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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Young Folks Treasury, Volume 3 (of 12), by
+Various, Edited by Hamilton Wright Mabie
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Young Folks Treasury, Volume 3 (of 12)
+       Classic Tales And Old-Fashioned Stories
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Hamilton Wright Mabie
+
+Release Date: April 6, 2005  [eBook #15560]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG FOLKS TREASURY, VOLUME 3 (OF
+12)***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Sandra Brown, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 15560-h.htm or 15560-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/6/15560/15560-h/15560-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/6/15560/15560-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG FOLKS' TREASURY
+
+In 12 Volumes
+
+HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE, Editor
+
+EDWARD EVERETT HALE, Associate Editor
+
+VOLUME III: CLASSIC TALES AND OLD-FASHIONED STORIES
+
+HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE, Editor
+
+DANIEL EDWIN WHEELER, Assistant Editor
+
+New York
+The University Society Inc.
+Publishers
+
+1909
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PARTIAL LIST OF EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS
+
+
+HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE
+Editor
+
+EDWARD EVERETT HALE
+Associate Editor
+
+DANIEL EDWIN WHEELER
+Managing Editor
+
+
+Partial List of Contributors, Assistant Editors and Advisers:
+
+
+NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER, President Columbia University.
+
+WILLIAM R. HARPER, Late President Chicago University.
+
+Hon. THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Ex-President of the United States.
+
+Hon. GROVER CLEVELAND, Late President of the United States.
+
+JAMES CARDINAL GIBBONS, American Roman Catholic prelate.
+
+LAWRENCE J. BURPEE, Librarian Ottawa Public Library; author of
+"Canadian Life in Town and Country," etc.
+
+BLISS CARMAN, poet, essayist, and editor.
+
+THOMAS B. FLINT, Clerk House of Commons, Canada; editor "Parliamentary
+Practice and Procedure."
+
+AGNES C. LAUT, author "Lords of the North," "Hudson's Bay Company,"
+etc.
+
+BECKLES WILLSON, author of "The Romance of Canada," "Life and Letters
+of James Wolfe," etc.
+
+EDWARD W. BOK, editor "Ladies' Home Journal."
+
+HENRY VAN DYKE, author, poet, and Professor of English Literature,
+Princeton University.
+
+LYMAN ABBOTT, author, editor of "The Outlook."
+
+JACOB A. RIIS, author and journalist.
+
+EDWARD EVERETT HALE, JR., Professor at Union College.
+
+CHARLES G.D. ROBERTS, writer of animal stories.
+
+JANET H. KELMAN, author "Stories from the Crusades," "A Book of
+Butterflies," etc.
+
+VAUTIER GOLDING, author "Life of Henry M. Stanley," etc.
+
+LENA DALKEITH, author "A Book of Beasts," "Stories from French
+History," etc.
+
+H.E. MARSHALL, author "A Child's History of England." "History of
+English Literature," etc.
+
+JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, creator of "Uncle Remus."
+
+GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, novelist and journalist.
+
+WILLIAM BLAIKIE, author of "How to Get Strong and How to Stay So."
+
+JOSEPH JACOBS, folklore writer and editor of the "Jewish
+Encyclopedia."
+
+Mrs. VIRGINIA TERHUNE ("Marlon Harland"), author of "Common Sense in
+the Household," etc.
+
+A.D. INNES, author "England Under the Tudors," "England's Industrial
+Development," etc.
+
+EDMUND F. SELLAR, author "Life of Nelson," etc.
+
+MARY MACGREGOR, author "King Arthur's Knights," etc.
+
+JEANIE LANG, author "Life of General Gordon," etc.
+
+Rev. THEODORE WOOD, F.E.S., writer on natural history.
+
+MARGARET E. SANGSTER, author of "The Art of Home-Making," etc.
+
+HERBERT T. WADE, editor and writer on physics.
+
+JOHN H. CLIFFORD, editor and writer.
+
+ERNEST INGERSOLL, naturalist and author.
+
+IDA PRENTICE WHITCOMB, author of "Young People's Story of Music,"
+"Heroes of History," etc.
+
+MARK HAMBOURG, pianist and composer.
+
+Mme. BLANCHE MARCHESI, opera singer and teacher.
+
+ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS, author "Historic Boys," etc.
+
+PAULINE C. BOUVE, author "Stories of American Heroes for Boys and
+Girls," etc.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Introduction
+
+
+CLASSIC TALES
+
+
+Don Quixote
+
+By Miguel Cervantes. Adapted by John Lang
+
+     I. HOW DON QUIXOTE WAS KNIGHTED
+
+    II. HOW DON QUIXOTE RESCUED ANDRES; AND HOW HE RETURNED HOME
+
+   III. HOW DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA STARTED ON THEIR SEARCH FOR
+        ADVENTURES; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS
+
+    IV. HOW DON QUIXOTE WON A HELMET; HOW HE FOUGHT WITH TWO ARMIES; AND
+        HOW SANCHO'S ASS WAS STOLEN
+
+     V. HOW DON QUIXOTE SAW DULCINEA
+
+    VI. HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH A LION; AND HOW HE DEFEATED THE MOORS
+
+   VII. THE BATTLE WITH THE BULLS; THE FIGHT WITH THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE
+        MOON; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE DIED
+
+
+Gulliver's Travels: Voyage to Lilliput
+
+By Jonathan Swift. Adapted by John Lang
+
+     I. GULLIVER'S BIRTH AND EARLY VOYAGES
+
+    II. GULLIVER IS WRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT
+
+   III. GULLIVER IS TAKEN AS A PRISONER TO THE CAPITAL OF LILLIPUT
+
+    IV. GULLIVER IS FREED, AND CAPTURES THE BLEFUSCAN FLEET
+
+     V. GULLIVER'S ESCAPE FROM LILLIPUT AND RETURN TO ENGLAND
+
+
+The Arabian Nights
+
+Adapted by Amy Steedman
+
+     I. ALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP
+
+    II. THE ENCHANTED HORSE
+
+   III. SINDBAD THE SAILOR
+
+
+The Iliad of Homer
+
+Adapted by Jeanie Lang
+
+     I. THE STORY Of WHAT LED TO THE SIEGE OF TROY
+
+    II. THE COUNCIL
+
+   III. THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS
+
+    IV. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE
+
+     V. HOW PATROCLUS FOUGHT AND DIED
+
+    VI. THE ROUSING OF ACHILLES
+
+
+The Odyssey of Homer
+
+Adapted by Jeanie Lang
+
+     I. WHAT HAPPENED IN ITHACA WHILE ODYSSEUS WAS AWAY
+
+    II. HOW ODYSSEUS CAME HOME
+
+
+Robinson Crusoe
+
+By Daniel Defoe. Adapted by John Lang
+
+     I. HOW ROBINSON FIRST WENT TO SEA; AND HOW HE WAS SHIPWRECKED
+
+    II. ROBINSON WORKS HARD AT MAKING HIMSELF A HOME
+
+   III. THE EARTHQUAKE AND HURRICANE; AND HOW ROBINSON BUILT A BOAT
+
+    IV. ROBINSON BUILDS A SECOND BOAT, IN WHICH HE IS SWEPT OUT TO SEA
+
+     V. ROBINSON SEES A FOOTPRINT ON THE SAND, FINDS A CAVE, AND RESCUES
+        FRIDAY
+
+    VI. ROBINSON TRAINS FRIDAY AND THEY BUILD A LARGE BOAT; THEY RESCUE
+        TWO PRISONERS FROM THE CANNIBALS
+
+   VII. ARRIVAL OF AN ENGLISH SHIP: ROBINSON SAILS FOR HOME
+
+
+Canterbury Tales
+
+By Geoffrey Chaucer. Adapted by Janet Harvey Kelman
+
+     I. DORIGEN
+
+    II. EMELIA
+
+   III. GRISELDA
+
+
+The Pilgrim's Progress
+
+By John Bunyan. Adapted by Mary Macgregor
+
+
+Tales from Shakespeare
+
+By Charles and Mary Lamb
+
+     I. THE TEMPEST
+
+    II. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED STORIES
+
+
+Simple Susan
+
+By Maria Edgeworth. Adapted by Louey Chisholm
+
+     I. QUEEN OF THE MAY
+
+    II. BAD NEWS
+
+   III. SUSAN'S GUINEA-FOWL
+
+    IV. SUSAN VISITS THE ABBEY
+
+     V. SUSAN'S PET LAMB
+
+    VI. THE BLIND HARPER
+
+   VII. GOOD NEWS
+
+  VIII. BARBARA VISITS THE ABBEY
+
+    IX. A SURPRISE FOR SUSAN
+
+     X. BARBARA'S ACCIDENT
+
+    XI. THE PRIZE-GIVING
+
+   XII. ATTORNEY CASE IN TROUBLE
+
+  XIII. SUSAN'S BIRTHDAY
+
+
+Limby Lumpy
+
+
+The Sore Tongue
+
+By Jane Taylor
+
+
+Eyes and No Eyes, or The Art of Seeing
+
+By John Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld
+
+
+Prince Life
+
+By G.P.R. James
+
+
+The Fruits of Disobedience, or The Kidnapped Child
+
+
+Dicky Random, or Good Nature Is Nothing Without Good Conduct
+
+
+Embellishment
+
+By Jacob Abbott
+
+
+The Oyster Patties
+
+
+Two Little Boys
+
+By Thomas Day
+
+     I. THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY
+
+    II. THE ILL-NATURED LITTLE BOY
+
+
+The Purple Jar
+
+By Maria Edgeworth
+
+
+The Three Cakes
+
+By Armand Berquin
+
+
+Amendment
+
+
+Trial
+
+By John Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld
+
+
+A Plot of Gunpowder: An Old Lady Seized for a Guy
+
+Ascribed to William Martin ("Peter Parley")
+
+
+Uncle David's Nonsensical Story About Giants and Fairies
+
+By Katherine Sinclair
+
+
+The Inquisitive Girl
+
+
+Busy Idleness
+
+By Jane Taylor
+
+
+The Renowned History of Little Goody Two-Shoes
+
+Ascribed to Oliver Goldsmith
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+     I. HOW AND ABOUT LITTLE MARGERY AND HER BROTHER
+
+    II. HOW AND ABOUT MR. SMITH
+
+   III. HOW LITTLE MARGERY OBTAINED THE NAME OF GOODY TWO-SHOES, AND
+        WHAT HAPPENED IN THE PARISH
+
+    IV. HOW LITTLE MARGERY LEARNED TO READ, AND BY DEGREES TAUGHT OTHERS
+
+     V. HOW LITTLE TWO-SHOES BECAME A TROTTING TUTORESS, AND HOW SHE
+        TAUGHT HER YOUNG PUPILS
+
+    VI. HOW THE WHOLE PARISH WAS FRIGHTENED
+
+   VII. CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF ALL THE SPIRITS OR THINGS SHE SAW IN THE
+        CHURCH
+
+  VIII. OF SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED TO LITTLE MARGERY TWO-SHOES IN A
+        BARN, MORE DREADFUL THAN THE GHOST IN THE CHURCH; AND HOW SHE
+        RETURNED GOOD FOR EVIL TO HER ENEMY, SIR TIMOTHY
+
+    IX. HOW LITTLE MARGERY WAS MADE PRINCIPAL OF A COUNTRY COLLEGE
+
+
+(Part Two.) The Renowned History of Mrs. Margery Two-Shoes
+
+     I. OF HER SCHOOL, HER USHERS, OR ASSISTANTS, AND HER MANNER OF
+        TEACHING
+
+    II. A SCENE OF DISTRESS IN A SCHOOL
+
+   III. OF THE AMAZING SAGACITY AND INSTINCT OF A LITTLE DOG
+
+    IV. WHAT HAPPENED AT FARMER GROVE'S, AND HOW SHE GRATIFIED HIM FOR
+        THE USE OF HIS ROOM
+
+     V. THE CASE OF MRS. MARGERY
+
+    VI. THE TRUE USE OF RICHES
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+VOLUME III
+
+
+THE HORSE FLEW THROUGH THE AIR
+
+"PAY AT ONCE, YOU SCOUNDREL"
+
+HORSE AND MAN WERE SENT ROLLING ON THE GROUND
+
+THE BULLS HAD RUN RIGHT OVER HIM AND ROZINANTE
+
+HE FOUND THAT HIS ARMS AND LEGS WERE TIGHTLY FASTENED TO THE GROUND
+
+GULLIVER IN LILLIPUT
+
+ON THIS OCCASION, GULLIVER ATE MORE THAN USUAL
+
+ALADDIN AND THE MAGICIAN
+
+HINDBAD WAS CARRYING A VERY HEAVY LOAD
+
+FROM FAR AND WIDE DID THE GREEK HOSTS GATHER
+
+ANDROMACHE IN CAPTIVITY
+
+TELEMACHUS KNELT WHERE THE GRAY WATER BROKE ON THE SAND
+
+THE ESCAPE FROM THE SHIPWRECK
+
+HE SAW THE MARK OF A NAKED FOOT ON THE SAND
+
+ROBINSON RAN TO THE WHITE PRISONER AND CUT HIS BONDS
+
+ALAS! OF ALL THE SHIPS I SEE, IS THERE NEVER ONE THAT WILL BRING MY
+LORD HOME?
+
+THE CURTAIN AT THE DOORWAY WAS DRAWN ASIDE
+
+THEN DID CHRISTIAN DRAW HIS SWORD
+
+MIRANDA WATCHING THE STORM
+
+THE FAIRIES SING TITANIA TO SLEEP
+
+BENDING DOWN A BRANCH OF THE LABURNUM-TREE
+
+"IT WON'T DO," SAID BARBARA, TURNING HER BACK
+
+"AND HERE'S HER CROWN!" CRIED ROSE
+
+SHE SPOKE OF WHAT SHE DID NOT UNDERSTAND
+
+HE WAS WANTED TO HOLD THE JUG OF MILK
+
+HE TOOK THE CURRANT TART, AND ... THREW IT AT HIS NURSE
+
+ROSAMOND RAN UP TO IT WITH AN EXCLAMATION OF JOY
+
+WIDOW DOROTHY CAREFUL MADE A CURTSEY
+
+THE GOAT DASHED IN AMONG THEM AND THE CHAIR WAS UPSET
+
+EACH OF MY VISITORS IS QUITE AN EXCLUSIVE
+
+IF LOUISA RECEIVED A NOTE, SHE CAREFULLY LOCKED IT UP
+
+
+(Many of the illustrations in this volume are reproduced by special
+permission of E.P. Dutton & Company, owners of American rights.)
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+CLASSIC TALES
+
+
+After our boys and girls have read the first half of this volume,
+containing selected and simplified stories from some of the greatest
+books of all time, their authors will cease to be merely names. Homer,
+Shakespeare, Chaucer, Cervantes and Bunyan will be found here as
+familiar and easy in style as "Cinderella" or "The Three Bears." True
+enough, the first word in "Classic Tales" may look somewhat alarming
+to the eyes of youthful seekers after romance and adventure, but we
+challenge them to turn to any one of these selections from immortal
+masterpieces and not become spellbound and, moreover, impatient for
+more. And, believing now that they have grown very much interested in
+these famous books, of course we also believe they want to learn
+something about them.
+
+Following the order of our stories we must begin with "Don Quixote."
+Its author wrote it under great difficulties and distress; but one
+would never think so, as it is full of laughable doings. When you read
+our selections you must not think that Don Quixote was merely a silly
+old man, for indeed he was a very noble gentleman and tried with all
+his might to do what he believed to be his duty, and in no act of his
+life was there ever a stain of dishonor or of meanness. As for his
+queer fancies, you will find in your own experience that many things
+are not as they seem.
+
+Next comes one of Gulliver's voyages. Under all this account of a tiny
+race of people there is fun poked at government and its ministers.
+But we do not concern ourselves with such matters--all we think about
+is the wonderful deeds of Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians. Do
+not think such people are impossible, for did not Stanley, the
+explorer, find in Africa a race of dwarfs so little that he called
+them pygmies? And perhaps when some of our young readers grow up,
+they, too, may discover small folks in the world.
+
+In regard to the "Arabian Nights," from which we give you three choice
+stories, you ought to know the way they came to be told. Once upon a
+time, a Sultan of Arabia thought that all women were of not much use,
+so every day he married a new wife, and before twenty-four hours were
+over he ordered that she have her head cut off. One brave woman
+thought of a clever plan by which she could end this cruelty. She went
+to the palace and offered to marry the Sultan, and that night she
+began to tell him such fascinating stories that when morning came he
+still wished to hear more. He commanded that she should not be
+beheaded until all her stories were told. Then for a thousand and one
+nights, night after night, she gave him fresh stories, and by the end
+of that time the Sultan had fallen very much in love with her.
+Naturally, they lived happily forever after. Perhaps these three
+stories which we have selected will compel you to seek out all the
+rest, and if you do, we are quite sure you will not wonder that the
+brave lady won the heart of the wicked Sultan and made him good.
+
+From the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey" of Homer, we have given you some
+soul-stirring happenings. Several thousand years ago these stories
+were sung by a blind minstrel named Homer. Some day you may read
+Homer's sublime poetry in the original Greek, and the selections which
+we give you will help you to remember the stories when you are
+struggling with that difficult language.
+
+Parts of the old favorite "Robinson Crusoe" follow the Grecian tales,
+and we trust its simple language will make the little ones love it
+more than ever. You will remember that Defoe wrote this nearly two
+hundred years ago. Everybody liked long stories in those days, but we
+have all heard children of to-day ask when a somewhat lengthy book
+would end, no matter how interesting, and many grown-ups are guilty
+of reading the close of a story before they have gone very far in it.
+So with that in mind we have put down in brief form most of Robinson
+Crusoe's important adventures during his twenty-eight years on the
+desert island.
+
+Here we also give three splendid stories from Chaucer's "Canterbury
+Tales," which were supposedly told to one another by a party of
+pilgrims on their way to Canterbury. According to our gentle author,
+who was one of them, they stopped over night at a house in England
+called the Tabard Inn, and here they passed the hours repeating fine
+stories. Afterward Chaucer wrote these down in a book in quaint old
+English. One might look at these words all day long and not know in
+the least what what some of them meant, though they do hold such
+beautiful tales.
+
+Now about "Pilgrim's Progress." More than two hundred years ago a
+tinker named John Bunyan was in jail, but one night this poor man left
+his prison and wandered into the land of dreams. There he saw
+wonderful sights and heard marvelous things, and as there was no one
+to listen to his dream, John Bunyan wrote it down, and had it made
+into a book. And this he called "The Pilgrim's Progress." It was about
+the journey and adventures of a pilgrim and his companions. In our
+version we have given most of the dream, but when the boys and girls
+grow older they will want to read it all in Bunyan's own language, and
+we hope this account will lead them to do so.
+
+Shakespeare is a magic name to grown-ups, but to children it does not
+mean much. All they know is, that sometimes this name is spelled on
+the back of one fat volume, sometimes on three, sometimes on a dozen
+or more, but of the inside they know almost nothing, and when they
+hear persons say that Shakespeare is the greatest writer that ever
+lived, they wonder about it. If they take down a volume containing one
+of his plays, they think it very dull, but here in simple language we
+present the stories of two of the most fairy-like and beautiful plays,
+as retold for children by Charles and Mary Lamb.
+
+DANIEL EDWIN WHEELER.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+OLD-FASHIONED STORIES
+
+
+There is much truth in the saying that "old things are best, old books
+are best, old friends are best." We like to connect in thought our
+best-loved books and our best-loved friends. A good friend must have
+some of the wisdom of a good book, though good books often talk to us
+with wisdom and also with humor and courtesy greater than any living
+friend may show. "Sometimes we think books are the best friends; they
+never interrupt or contradict or criticise us."
+
+Every year in our own country about ten thousand books are published.
+Most of them die in early life. Three hundred years from now every one
+of this year's ten thousand books will be dead and forgotten, except
+possibly thirty or forty. The very best books do not die young. The
+books written about three hundred years ago that are read to-day--like
+Shakespeare's plays--are as a rule the books that deserve to live
+forever. And, "Gentle Reader," if you are wise you will see _why_ the
+old books are best: they are the wheat, and the winds of time have
+blown only the chaff away.
+
+Is it not strange that in the olden times so few poems or books or
+stories were written for children? The "Iliad," the stories of King
+Arthur, the "Canterbury Tales," and "Gulliver's Travels" and "Robinson
+Crusoe," were written for men and women.
+
+But happily this is the children's age, and now nearly half of all the
+books written are written for children. You must remember, however,
+that all boys and girls are children--in the eyes of the law--till
+they are twenty-one years old.
+
+We know a little boy who read last week a very modern story. The book
+was bound in red cloth. It had a gilt top and very modern pictures
+drawn by a great artist and printed in three or four colors. How
+different from the books of one hundred years ago, with their black
+covers and queer pictures!
+
+This story read by the little New York boy last week has been read by
+many little boys in Iowa, and by many little girls in Georgia. It
+tells about an orphan boy who was "bound out" to a farmer who treated
+him cruelly. He ran away to the Rocky Mountain region, where he had
+many adventures with robbers and Indians and blizzards. He was strong
+and heroic; he could shoot straight and ride the swiftest horses, and
+nothing ever hurt him very much.
+
+This, as I have said, is a modern story. It does not tell the reader
+to be truthful and good. It just tells him a story of thrilling
+adventures and daring escapes from danger. But the old-fashioned story
+is different; and now we are getting close to our subject.
+
+I will tell you all about the old-fashioned stories in a moment; but I
+must remind you that these old stories were written about a hundred
+years ago. They were usually written to teach a moral lesson. Dear old
+John Aikin, or his sister Anna Letitia Barbauld, or Maria Edgeworth,
+or Jane Taylor would say some morning--at any rate, so it seems to
+me--"I will write a story to-day to teach boys and girls to be
+industrious." And so "Busy Idleness" was written. Or one of these old
+authors would decide to write a story the main object of which was to
+teach little girls not to be too curious, and so "The Inquisitive
+Girl" was written. Both of these stories, and many others equally
+good, are found in this volume.
+
+I could really tell you many interesting things about these
+old-fashioned stories but I will do something better--urge you to read
+them yourself. They are quaint, delightful, and entertaining stories,
+besides teaching a moral. You boys and girls should read every one of
+them, and then read them again, out loud, to your mothers or to
+anybody else who will listen.
+
+Among all the old-fashioned stories in this volume I find only one
+that seems to me "really funny," and that is "Uncle David's
+Nonsensical Story about the Giants and Fairies." Think of a giant so
+tall that "he was obliged to climb up a ladder to comb his own hair."
+But this bit of humor is not so good as a very modern nonsense-story
+entitled "The Giant's Shoes," which I read the other day, and from
+which the Managing Editor permits me to quote this little passage:
+
+"The Giant slept for three weeks at a time, and two days after he
+woke his breakfast was brought to him, consisting of bright brown
+horses sprinkled on his bread and butter. Besides his boots, the Giant
+had a pair of shoes, and in one of them his wife lived when she was at
+home; on other occasions she lived in the other shoe. She was a
+sensible, practical kind of woman, with two wooden legs and a
+clothes-horse, but in other respects not rich. The wooden legs were
+kept pointed at both ends, in order that if the Giant were
+dissatisfied with his breakfast, he might pick up any stray people
+that were within reach, using his wife as a fork; this annoyed the
+inhabitants of the district, so that they built their church in a
+southwesterly direction from the castle, behind the Giant's back, that
+he might not be able to pick them up as they went in. But those who
+stayed outside to play pitch-and-toss were exposed to great danger and
+sufferings."
+
+G.J.B.
+
+
+
+
+CLASSIC TALES
+
+
+
+
+DON QUIXOTE
+
+By MIGUEL CERVANTES
+
+ADAPTED BY JOHN LANG
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE WAS KNIGHTED
+
+
+Some three or four hundred years ago, there lived in sunny Spain an
+old gentleman named Quixada, who owned a house and a small property
+near a village in La Mancha.
+
+With him lived his niece, a housekeeper, and a man who looked after
+Quixada's farm and his one old white horse, which, though its master
+imagined it to be an animal of great strength and beauty, was really
+as lean as Quixada himself and as broken down as any old cab horse.
+
+Quixada had nothing in the world to do in the shape of work, and so,
+his whole time was taken up in reading old books about knights and
+giants, and ladies shut up in enchanted castles by wicked ogres. In
+time, so fond did he become of such tales that he passed his days, and
+even the best part of his nights, in reading them. His mind was so
+wholly taken up in this way that at last he came to believe that he
+himself lived in a land of giants and of ogres, and that it was his
+duty to ride forth on his noble steed, to the rescue of unhappy
+Princesses.
+
+In the lumber-room of Quixada's house there had lain, ever since he
+was born, a rusty old suit of armor, which had belonged to his
+great-grandfather. This was now got out, and Quixada spent many days
+in polishing and putting it in order.
+
+Unfortunately, there was no more than half of the helmet to be found,
+and a knight cannot ride forth without a helmet.
+
+So Quixada made the other half of strong pasteboard; and to prove that
+it was strong enough, when finished, he drew his sword and gave the
+helmet a great slash. Alas! a whole week's work was ruined by that one
+stroke; the pasteboard flew into pieces. This troubled Quixada sadly,
+but he set to work at once and made another helmet of pasteboard,
+lining it with thin sheets of iron, and it looked so well that, this
+time, he put it to no test with his sword.
+
+Now that his armor was complete, it occurred to him that he must give
+his horse a name--every knight's horse should have a good name--and
+after four days thought he decided that "Rozinante" would best suit
+the animal.
+
+Then, for himself, after eight days of puzzling, he resolved that he
+should be called Don Quixote de la Mancha.
+
+There was but one thing more. Every knight of olden time had a lady,
+whom he called the Mistress of his Heart, whose glove he wore in his
+helmet; and if anybody dared to deny that this lady was the most
+beautiful woman in the whole world, then the knight made him prove his
+words by fighting.
+
+So it was necessary that Don Quixote should select some lady as the
+Mistress of his Heart.
+
+Near La Mancha there lived a stout country lass, for whom some years
+before Don Quixote had had a kind of liking. Who, therefore, could
+better take the place of Mistress of his Heart? To whom could he
+better send the defeated knights and ogres whom he was going out to
+fight? It was true that her name. Aldonza Lorenzo, did not sound like
+that of a Princess or lady of high birth; so he determined in future
+to call her Dulcinea del Toboso. No Princess could have a sweeter
+name!
+
+All being now ready, one morning Don Quixote got up before daylight,
+and without saying a word to anybody, put on his armor, took his
+sword, and spear, and shield, saddled "Rozinante," and started on his
+search for adventures.
+
+But before he had gone very far, a dreadful thought struck him. He had
+not been knighted! Moreover, he had read in his books that until a
+knight had done some great deed, he must wear white armor, and be
+without any device or coat of arms on his shield. What was to be done?
+He was so staggered by this thought that he almost felt that he must
+turn back. But then he remembered that he had read how adventurers
+were sometimes knighted by persons whom they happened to meet on the
+road. And as to his armor, why, he thought he might scour and polish
+that till nothing could be whiter. So he rode on, letting "Rozinante"
+take which road he pleased, that being, he supposed, as good a way as
+any of looking for adventures.
+
+All day he rode, to his sorrow without finding anything worth calling
+an adventure.
+
+At last as evening began to fall, and when he and his horse were both
+very weary, they came in sight of an inn. Don Quixote no sooner saw
+the inn than he fancied it to be a great castle, and he halted at some
+distance from it, expecting that, as in days of old, a dwarf would
+certainly appear on the battlements, and, by sounding a trumpet, give
+notice of the arrival of a knight. But no dwarf appeared, and as
+"Rozinante" showed great haste to reach the stable, Don Quixote began
+to move towards the inn.
+
+At this moment it happened that a swineherd in a field near at hand
+sounded his horn to bring his herd of pigs home to be fed. Don
+Quixote, imagining that this must be the dwarf at last giving notice
+of his coming, rode quickly up to the inn door, beside which it
+chanced that there stood two very impudent young women, whom the
+Knight imagined to be two beautiful ladies taking the air at the
+castle gate.
+
+Astonished at the sight of so strange a figure, and a little
+frightened, the girls turned to run away. But Don Quixote stopped
+them.
+
+"I beseech ye, ladies, do not fly," he said. "I will harm no one,
+least of all maidens of rank so high as yours."
+
+And much more he said, whereat the young women laughed so loud and so
+long that Don Quixote became very angry, and there is no saying what
+he might not have done had not the innkeeper at that moment come out.
+This innkeeper was very fat and good-natured, and anxious not to
+offend anybody, but even he could hardly help laughing when he saw Don
+Quixote. However, he very civilly asked the Knight to dismount and
+offered him everything that the inn could provide.
+
+Don Quixote being by this time both tired and hungry, with some
+difficulty got off his horse and handed it to the innkeeper (to whom
+he spoke as governor of the castle), asking him to take the greatest
+care of "Rozinante," for in the whole world there was no better steed.
+
+When the landlord returned from the stable, he found Don Quixote in a
+room, where, with the help of the two young women, he was trying to
+get rid of his armor. His back and breastplates had been taken off,
+but by no means could his helmet be removed without cutting the green
+ribbons with which he had tied it on, and this the Knight would not
+allow.
+
+There was nothing for it, therefore, but to keep his helmet on all
+night, and to eat and drink in it, which was more than he could do
+without help. However, one of the young women fed him, and the
+innkeeper having made a kind of funnel, through it poured the wine
+into his mouth, and Don Quixote ate his supper in great peace of mind.
+
+There was but one thing that still vexed him. He had not yet been
+knighted.
+
+On this subject he thought long and deeply, and at last he asked the
+innkeeper to come with him to the stable. Having shut the door, Don
+Quixote threw himself at the landlord's feet, saying, "I will never
+rise from this place, most valorous Knight, until you grant me a
+boon."
+
+The innkeeper was amazed, but as he could not by any means make Don
+Quixote rise, he promised to do whatever was asked.
+
+"Then, noble sir," said Don Quixote, "the boon which I crave is that
+to-morrow you will be pleased to grant me the honor of knighthood."
+
+The landlord, when he heard such talk, thought that the wisest thing
+he could do was to humor his guest, and he readily promised. Thereupon
+Don Quixote very happily rose to his feet, and after some further talk
+he said to the innkeeper that this night he would "watch his armor" in
+the chapel of the castle, it being the duty of any one on whom the
+honor of knighthood was to be conferred, to stand on his feet in the
+chapel, praying, until the morning. The innkeeper, thinking that
+great sport might come of this, encouraged Don Quixote, but as his own
+chapel had lately--so he said--been pulled down in order that a better
+might be built, he advised Don Quixote to watch that night in the
+courtyard. This was "lawful in a case where a chapel was not at hand.
+And in the morning," he said, "I will knight you."
+
+"Have you any money?" then asked the innkeeper.
+
+"Not a penny," said Don Quixote, "for I never yet read of any knight
+who carried money with him."
+
+"You are greatly mistaken," answered the innkeeper. "Most knights had
+squires, who carried their money and clean shirts and other things.
+But when a knight had no squire, he always carried his money and his
+shirts, and salve for his wounds, in a little bag behind his saddle. I
+must therefore advise you never in future to go anywhere without
+money."
+
+Don Quixote promised to remember this. Then taking his armor, he went
+into the inn yard and laid it in a horse-trough.
+
+Backwards and forwards, spear in hand, he marched in the moonlight,
+very solemnly keeping his eyes on his armor, while the innkeeper's
+other guests, laughing, looked on from a distance.
+
+Now it happened that a carrier who lodged at the inn came into the
+yard to water his mules, and this he could not do while the armor lay
+in the horse-trough. As Don Quixote saw the man come up, "Take heed,
+rash Knight," he cried. "Defile not by a touch the armor of the most
+brave knight-errant that ever wore a sword."
+
+But the mule-driver took no notice of Don Quixote. He picked up the
+armor and threw it away.
+
+Don Quixote no sooner saw this than, raising his eyes to heaven, and
+calling on his Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he lifted up his spear with
+both hands and gave the mule-driver such a whack over the head that
+the man fell down senseless. Then, picking up his armor and putting it
+back in the horse-trough, he went on with his march, taking no further
+notice of the poor mule-driver.
+
+Soon up came another carrier who also wanted to water his mules.
+
+Not a word did Don Quixote say this time, but he lifted up his spear
+and smote so heavily that he broke the man's head in three or four
+places. The poor wretch made such an outcry that all the people in the
+inn came running, and the friends of the two carriers began to pelt
+Don Quixote with stones. But drawing his sword, and holding his shield
+in front of him, he defied them all, crying, "Come on, base knaves!
+Draw nearer if you dare!"
+
+The landlord now came hurrying up and stopped the stone-throwing;
+then, having calmed Don Quixote, he said that there was no need for
+him to watch his armor any longer; to finish the ceremony it would now
+be enough if he were touched on the neck and shoulders with a sword.
+Don Quixote was quite satisfied, and prayed the innkeeper to get the
+business over as quickly as possible, "for," said he, "if I were but
+knighted, and should see myself attacked, I believe that I should not
+leave a man alive in this castle."
+
+The innkeeper, a good deal alarmed at this, and anxious to get rid of
+him, hurried off and got the book in which he kept his accounts, which
+he pretended was a kind of book of prayer. Having also brought the two
+young women, and a boy to hold a candle, he ordered Don Quixote to
+kneel. Then muttering from his book, as if he were reading, he
+finished by giving Don Quixote a good blow on the neck, and a slap on
+the back, with the flat of a sword. After this, one of the young women
+belted the sword round the newly made knight's waist, while the other
+buckled on his spurs, and having at once saddled "Rozinante." Don
+Quixote was ready to set out.
+
+The innkeeper was only too glad to see him go, even without paying for
+his supper.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE RESCUED ANDRES; AND HOW HE RETURNED HOME
+
+
+As he rode along in the early morning light, Don Quixote began to
+think that it would be well that he should return home for a little,
+there to lay in a stock of money and of clean shirts, and he turned
+his willing horse's head in the direction of his village.
+
+But ere he had gone far on his way, coming from a thicket he fancied
+that he heard cries of distress.
+
+"Certainly these are the moans of some poor creature in want of help,"
+thought Don Quixote. "I thank Heaven for so soon giving me the chance
+to perform my duty as a knight."
+
+And he rode quickly towards the sounds. No sooner had he reached the
+wood than he saw a horse tied to a tree, and bound to another was a
+lad of fifteen, all naked above the waist. By his side stood a
+countryman beating him with a strap, and with every blow calling out,
+"I'll teach you to keep your eyes open, you young scamp. I'll teach
+you to keep your mouth shut."
+
+The boy howled with pain. Quickly Don Quixote rode up to the man.
+
+"Sir Knight," said he angrily, "I would have thee to know that it is
+an unworthy act to strike one who cannot defend himself. Mount thy
+steed, therefore, take thy spear, and I will teach thee that thou art
+a coward."
+
+The countryman gave himself up for lost, and he gasped out very humbly
+that the boy was his servant, through whose carelessness many of the
+sheep that he should have watched had been lost, and that therefore he
+was giving him a sound beating. "And," said he, "because I beat him
+for his carelessness, he says I do it to cheat him out of his wages."
+
+"What!" shouted Don Quixote, "do you dare to lie to me? By the sun
+above us, I have a mind to run you through with my spear. Pay the boy
+this instant, and let him go free. What does he owe you, boy?"
+
+The boy said that the man owed him nine months' wages.
+
+"Pay at once, you scoundrel, unless you want to be killed," roared Don
+Quixote.
+
+The poor man, trembling with fear, said that there was a mistake; he
+did not owe nearly so much, and besides, he had no money with him. But
+if Andres would go home with him he would pay every penny.
+
+"Go home with him!" cried the boy. "I know a trick worth two of that.
+No sooner will he have me home than he'll take the skin off me. No,
+no, not I!"
+
+"He will not dare to touch you," said the Knight. "I command him, and
+that is enough. If he swears by his order of knighthood to do this
+thing, I will let him go, and he will pay you your wages."
+
+"Of course I will," said the man. "Come along with me. Andres, and I
+swear I'll give you all I owe."
+
+"Remember, then, what you have promised, for I am Don Quixote de la
+Mancha, the righter of wrongs, and it is at your peril to disobey me."
+
+So saying, Don Quixote clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped off
+through the trees.
+
+The countryman watched till the Knight was out of sight. Then,
+turning, he said "Come, my lad, and I'll pay thee what I owe, and
+more."
+
+"Ay," answered the boy, "see that you do, for if you do not, that
+brave man will come back and make you."
+
+"I dare swear that," said the man. "And just to show how much I love
+you, I am going to increase the debt, so that I may pay you more. Come
+here!"
+
+And with that he caught the boy by the arm, tied him again to the
+tree, and belted him till his arm was tired.
+
+"Now go," he said, "and tell your righter of wrongs. I wish I had
+flayed you alive, you young whelp."
+
+And so ended Don Quixote's first attempt to right wrongs.
+
+As the Knight cantered along, very well pleased with himself, about
+two miles from where he had freed the boy he saw riding towards him
+six men, each shading himself under a large umbrella. With them were
+four mounted servants, and three on foot.
+
+No sooner did Don Quixote see this party than it struck him that here
+was the chance for which, above all others, he had been longing.
+
+Posting himself in the middle of the road, he waited till the men were
+at no great distance. Then, "Halt!" shouted he. "Let all know that no
+man shall pass further till he owns that in the whole world there is
+no damsel more beautiful than the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso."
+
+"But," said the men (who were merchants of Toledo, on their way to buy
+silks), "we do not know the lady. We have never seen her. How then can
+we say that she is beautiful?"
+
+"What!" roared Don Quixote in a terrible rage, "not know the beauteous
+Lady Dulcinea del Toboso! That only makes matters worse. Do you dare
+to argue?"
+
+And with that he couched his spear, drove his spurs into "Rozinante,"
+and rode furiously at the nearest merchant.
+
+What he would have done it is not possible to say. But as he galloped,
+it chanced that "Rozinante" stumbled and fell heavily, rolling Don
+Quixote over and over. There the Knight lay helpless, the weight of
+his armor preventing him from rising to his feet. But as he lay, he
+continued to cry out at the top of his voice, "Stop, you rascals! Do
+not fly. It is my horse's fault that I lie here, you cowards!"
+
+One of the grooms, hearing his master called a rascal and a coward,
+thereupon ran up and snatched away Don Quixote's spear, which he broke
+in pieces. Then with each piece he belabored the poor Knight till the
+broken lance flew into splinters. The merchants then rode away,
+leaving Don Quixote lying where he fell, still shouting threats, but
+quite unable to rise.
+
+There he was found by a man who knew him well, and who with great
+difficulty mounted him on his donkey and took him home. When at last
+they reached Don Quixote's house, the poor Knight was put to bed,
+where he lay for many days, raving, and very ill.
+
+During this time the Curate of the village and the Barber came and
+burned nearly all the books which Don Quixote had so loved.
+
+"For," said they, "it is by reading these books that the poor
+gentleman has lost his mind, and if he reads them again he will never
+get better."
+
+So a bonfire was made of the books, and the door of Don Quixote's
+study was bricked up.
+
+When the Knight was again able to go about, he made at once for his
+study and his beloved books. Up and down the house he searched without
+saying a word, and often he would stand where the door of the study
+used to be, feeling with his hands and gazing about. At last he asked
+his housekeeper to show him the study.
+
+"Study!" cried the woman, "what study? There is no study in this house
+now, nor any books."
+
+"No," said his niece. "When you were away, a famous enchanter came
+along, mounted on a dragon, and he went into your study. What he did
+there we know not. But after a time he flew out of the roof, leaving
+the house full of smoke, and ever since then we have not been able to
+find either books or study."
+
+"Ha!" said Don Quixote. "That must have been Freston. He is a famous
+enchanter, and my bitter enemy. But when I am again well I shall get
+the better of him."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA STARTED ON THEIR SEARCH FOR
+ADVENTURES; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS
+
+
+For some weeks the poor Knight stayed very quietly at home. But he had
+not forgotten the things for which he had come back to his village.
+
+There was a farm laborer who lived near by, a fat, good-natured,
+simple man. To him Don Quixote talked long and often, and made many
+promises; among others that if he would but come with him as squire,
+he should be made governor of any island which the Knight might happen
+to conquer during his search after adventures.
+
+This seemed so grand a thing to the man (whose name was Sancho Panza),
+that he willingly promised to come.
+
+Having got together some money, and having made other preparations,
+Don Quixote and Sancho Panza one dark night stole out of the village
+without a word to any one, and began their adventures.
+
+Don Quixote rode "Rozinante;" Sancho Panza was mounted on an ass. That
+his squire should ride an ass at first troubled the Knight not a
+little, for in none of his books could he remember to have read of
+any squire being so mounted. However, he gave Sancho leave to bring
+the ass, thinking that in no great time a better mount would surely be
+found for him.
+
+As they rode along in the cool of the morning, Sancho Panza spoke to
+his master about their journey, and asked him to be sure not to forget
+his promise about the governorship of the island.
+
+"It may even happen," answered Don Quixote, "that I may by some
+strange chance conquer a kingdom. And then presently, I may be able to
+crown thee King."
+
+"Why," said Sancho, "if by some such miracle as your worship speaks
+of, I am made a King, then would my wife be Queen?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Don Quixote, "who can doubt it?"
+
+"I doubt it," replied Sancho, "for I think if it should rain kingdoms
+upon the face of the earth, not one of them would sit well on my
+wife's head. For I must tell you, sir, she's not worth two brass jacks
+to make a Queen of. No, no! countess will be quite good enough; that's
+as much as she could well manage."
+
+"Nay," said Don Quixote, "leave the matter in the hands of Providence,
+and be not tempted by anything less than the title of Viceroy."
+
+Thus talking, they came over the brow of a hill, and looking down on
+the plain below, Don Quixote saw there thirty or forty windmills.
+
+"Ha!" cried he. "Fortune directs our affairs better than we ourselves
+could do. Look yonder, friend Sancho, there are at at least thirty
+outrageous giants whom I must now fight."
+
+"Giants!" gasped Sancho Panza, "what giants?"
+
+"Those whom you see over there with their long arms," answered Don
+Quixote. "Some of that horrible race, I have heard, have arms near two
+leagues in length."
+
+"But, sir," said Sancho, "these are no giants. They are only
+windmills, and the things you think are arms are but their sails,
+whereby the wind drives them."
+
+"That is but a sign," answered Don Quixote, "whereby one may see how
+little you know of adventures. I tell you they are giants: and I shall
+fight against them all. If you are afraid, go aside and say your
+prayers."
+
+So saying, and without paying any heed to the bawlings of Sancho
+Panza, he put spurs to his horse and galloped furiously at the
+windmills, shouting aloud, "Stand, cowards! stand your ground, and fly
+not from a single Knight."
+
+Just at this moment the wind happened to rise, causing the arms of the
+windmills to move.
+
+"Base scoundrels!" roared the Knight, "though you wave as many arms as
+the giant Briareus, you shall pay for your pride."
+
+And with couched lance, and covering himself with his shield, he
+rushed "Rozinante" at top speed on the nearest windmill. Round whirled
+the sails, and as Don Quixote's lance pierced one of them, horse and
+man were sent rolling on the ground. There Sancho Panza came to help
+his sorely bruised master.
+
+"Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did not I tell you they were windmills?"
+
+"Peace, friend Sancho," answered Don Quixote. "It is the fortune of
+war. I know very well it is that accursed wizard Freston, the enemy
+who took from me my study and my books, who has changed these giants
+into windmills to take from me the honor of the victory. But in the
+end I shall yet surely get the better of him."
+
+"Amen! say I" quoth Sancho: and heaving the poor Knight on to his
+legs, once more he got him seated on "Rozinante."
+
+As they now rode along, it was a great sorrow to Don Quixote that his
+spear had been broken to pieces in this battle with the windmill.
+
+"I have read," said he to Sancho, "that a certain Spanish knight,
+having broken his sword in a fight, pulled up by the roots a huge
+oak-tree, or at least tore down a great branch, and with it did such
+wonderful deeds that he was ever after called 'The Bruiser.' I tell
+you this because I intend to tear up the next oak-tree we meet, and
+you may think yourself fortunate that you will see the deeds I shall
+perform with it."
+
+"Heaven grant you may!" said Sancho. "But, an' it please you, sit a
+little more upright in your saddle; you are all to one side. But that,
+mayhap, comes from your hurts?"
+
+"It does so," answered Don Quixote, "and if I do not complain of the
+pain, it is because a knight-errant must never complain of his wounds,
+though they be killing him."
+
+"I have no more to say," replied Sancho. "Yet Heaven knows I should be
+glad to hear your honor complain a bit, now and then, when something
+ails you. For my part, I always cry out when I'm hurt, and I am glad
+the rule about not complaining doesn't extend to squires."
+
+That night they spent under the trees, from one of which Don Quixote
+tore down a branch, to which he fixed the point of his spear, and in
+some sort that served him for a lance. Don Quixote neither ate nor
+slept all the night, but passed his time, as he had learned from his
+books that a knight should do, in thoughts of the Lady Dulcinea. As
+for Sancho Panza, he had brought with him a big bottle of wine, and
+some food in his wallet, and he stuffed himself as full as he could
+hold, and slept like a top.
+
+As they rode along next day, they came to the Pass of Lapice.
+
+"Here, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "is the spot where adventures should
+begin. Now may we hope to thrust our hands, as it were, up to the very
+elbows in adventures. But remember this! However sore pressed and in
+danger I may be when fighting with another knight, you must not offer
+to draw your sword to help me. It is against the laws of chivalry for
+a squire to attack a knight."
+
+"Never fear me, master," said Sancho. "I'll be sure to obey you; I
+have ever loved peace. But if a knight offers to set upon me first,
+there is no rule forbidding me to hit him back, is there?"
+
+"None," answered Don Quixote, "only do not help me."
+
+"I will not," said Sancho. "Never trust me if I don't keep that
+commandment as well as I do the Sabbath."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE WON A HELMET; HOW HE FOUGHT WITH TWO ARMIES; AND HOW
+SANCHO'S ASS WAS STOLEN
+
+
+Many were the adventures that now befell Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.
+In the very first, wherein he fought with a man from Biscay, whom he
+left lying in a pool of blood, Don Quixote lost part of his helmet,
+and had the half of one of his ears sliced off by the Biscayan's
+sword. The accident to the helmet was a great grief to him, and he
+swore an oath that until he had taken from some other knight as good a
+helmet as that which was now made useless to him, he would never again
+eat his food on a table-cloth.
+
+One day as they rode along a highway between two villages Don Quixote
+halted and looked eagerly at something.
+
+"Sancho," said he, "dost thou not see yonder knight that comes riding
+this way on a dapple-gray steed, with a helmet of gold on his head?"
+
+"Not a thing can I see," answered Sancho, "but a fellow on just such
+another ass as mine, with something that glitters on top of his head."
+
+"Can you not see," asked Don Quixote, "that it is a helmet? Do you
+stand back, and let me deal with him. Soon now shall I possess myself
+of the helmet that I need."
+
+Now, in those far-away days, when doctors were few, if anybody needed
+to be bled for a fever or any other illness (for it was then thought
+that "letting blood" was the cure for most illnesses), it was the
+custom for the barber to bleed the sick person. For the purpose of
+catching the blood that ran from a vein when it had been cut, a brass
+dish was carried, a dish with part of it cut away from one side, so
+that it might the more easily be held close to the patient's arm or
+body. A small dish like this you may sometimes still see hanging as a
+sign at the end of a pole outside barbers' shops. Barbers in those
+days of old were called barber-surgeons, for the reason that they bled
+people, as well as shaved them or cut their hair.
+
+And the truth of the matter was this, that the man whom Don Quixote
+now believed to be a knight, wearing a golden helmet, was a barber
+riding on his ass to bleed a sick man. And because it was raining, he
+had put his brass dish on his head, in order to keep his new hat from
+being spoiled.
+
+Don Quixote did not wait to speak to the man, but, couching his lance,
+galloped at him as hard as "Rozinante" could go, shouting as he rode,
+"Defend thyself, base wretch!"
+
+The barber no sooner saw this terrible figure charging down on him,
+than, to save himself from being run through, he flung himself on to
+the ground, and then jumping to his feet, ran for his life, leaving
+his ass and the brass basin behind him. Then Don Quixote ordered
+Sancho to pick up the helmet.
+
+"O' my word," said Sancho, as he gave it to his master, "it is a fine
+basin."
+
+Don Quixote at once put it on his head, saying, "It is a famous
+helmet, but the head for which it was made must have been of great
+size. The worst of it is that at least one-half of it is gone. What is
+the fool grinning at now?" he cried, as Sancho laughed.
+
+"Why, master," answered Sancho, "it is a barber's basin."
+
+"It has indeed some likeness to a basin," said Don Quixote, "but I
+tell you it is an enchanted helmet of pure gold, and for the sake of a
+little wretched money some one has melted down the half of it. When we
+come to a town where there is an armorer, I will have it altered to
+fit my head. Meantime I shall wear it as it is."
+
+As they rode along one day talking of many things, Don Quixote beheld
+a cloud of dust rising right before them.
+
+"Seest thou that cloud of dust, Sancho?" he asked. "It is raised by a
+great army marching this way."
+
+"Why, master," said Sancho, "there must be two armies there, for
+yonder is just such another cloud of dust."
+
+The knight looked, and was overjoyed, believing that two armies were
+about to meet and fight in the plain.
+
+"What are we to do, master?" asked Sancho.
+
+"Do!" said Don Quixote, "why, what can we do but help the weaker side?
+Look yonder, Sancho, that knight whom thou seest in the gilded armory
+with a lion crouching at the feet of a lady painted on his shield,
+that is the valiant Laurcalco. That other, the giant on his right,
+Brandabarbaran." And he ran over a long list of names of knights whom
+he believed that he saw.
+
+Sancho listened, as dumb as a fish; but at last he gasped. "Why,
+master, you might as well tell me that it snows. Never a knight, nor a
+giant, nor a man can I see."
+
+"How!" answered Don Quixote, "canst thou not hear their horses neigh,
+and their drums beating?"
+
+"Drums!" said Sancho. "Not I! I hear only the bleating of sheep."
+
+"Since you are afraid," said the Knight, "stand aside, and I will go
+by myself to fight."
+
+With that, he galloped down on to the plain, shouting, leaving Sancho
+bawling to him, "Hold, sir! Stop! For Heaven's sake come back. As sure
+as I'm a sinner, they are only harmless sheep. Come back, I say."
+
+But Don Quixote, paying not the least heed, galloped on furiously and
+charged into the middle of the sheep, spearing them right and left,
+trampling the living and the dead under "Rozinante's" feet. The
+shepherds, finding that he took no notice of their shouts, now hurled
+stones at him from their slings, and one big stone presently hit the
+Knight fair in his ribs and doubled him up in the saddle.
+
+Gasping for breath, with all speed Don Quixote got from his wallet a
+bottle filled with a mixture he had made, a mixture which he firmly
+believed to be a certain cure for all wounds. Of this he took a long
+gulp, but just at that moment another big stone hit him such a rap on
+the mouth that the bottle was smashed into a thousand pieces, and half
+of his teeth were knocked out.
+
+Down dropped the Knight on the ground, and the shepherds thinking that
+he was killed, ran away, taking with them seven dead sheep which he
+had slain.
+
+Sancho Panza found his master in a very bad way, with nearly all the
+teeth gone from one side of his mouth, and with a terrible pain under
+his ribs.
+
+"Ah! master," he said, "I told you they were sheep. Why would not you
+listen to me?"
+
+"Sheep! Sancho. No, no! There is nothing so easy for a wizard like
+Freston as to change things from one shape to the other. I will wager
+if you now mount your ass and ride over the hill after them, you will
+find no sheep there, but the knights and squires come back to their
+own shape, and the armies marching as when we first saw them."
+
+Now, after this and many other adventures (about which, perhaps, you
+may some day read for yourself), Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode
+away into the mountains, for the Knight was sorely in need of a quiet
+place in which to rest.
+
+So weary were he and his squire, that one night, when they had ridden
+into a wood, and it chanced that the horse and the ass stood still,
+both Don Quixote and Sancho Panza fell sound asleep without even
+getting out of their saddles. There sat the Knight, leaning on his
+lance; and Sancho, doubled over the pommel, snored as loud as if he
+had been in a four-post feather bed.
+
+It happened that a wandering thief saw them as he passed.
+
+"Now," thought he, "I want something to ride upon, for I'm tired of
+walking in these abominable mountains. Here's a chance of a good ass.
+But how am I to get it, without waking its master?"
+
+Very quietly he cut four long sticks. One after the other he placed
+these under each side of Sancho's saddle; then loosening the girths,
+he gradually raised the sticks till the saddle was clear of the
+animal's back.
+
+Gently, in the moonlight, he led the tired ass away, and Sancho,
+undisturbed, snored on.
+
+When it was broad daylight, the squire awoke, and without opening his
+eyes, stretched himself. Down fell the sticks; down with a terrible
+bump fell Sancho.
+
+"Body o' me!" he yelled, "where is my ass?" And with many tears he
+searched high and low, but no ass was then to be found, nor for many
+months afterwards. And how at last Sancho got back the ass you must
+read for yourself in the History of Don Quixote. For yourself, too,
+you must read of Don Quixote's adventures in the mountains; how he
+there did penance; and of many other things, till at last the Curate
+and the Barber of La Mancha took him home in a cart which the Knight
+believed to be an enchanted chariot.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE SAW DULCINEA
+
+
+Now a third time did Don Quixote set off on his search for adventures,
+and as he and Sancho Panza rode again away from their village, it
+seemed to Don Quixote that certainly it was his duty as a
+knight-errant to visit the Mistress of his Heart, the beautiful
+Dulcinea.
+
+It was midnight when they reached Toboso, and the whole town was
+still, everybody in bed and asleep.
+
+"Lead me to her palace, Sancho," said Don Quixote.
+
+"Palace?" cried Sancho, "What palace do you mean? Body o' me! When
+last I saw her, she lived in a little cottage in a blind alley. And
+even if it were a palace, we can't go and thunder at the door at this
+time o' night."
+
+"When we find it, I will tell thee what to do. But, here! What is
+this?" said the Knight, riding up to a huge building, and knocking at
+the door. "This indeed, without doubt, must be her palace."
+
+But it was only the great Church of Toboso. Hunt as he would, he found
+no Dulcinea's palace, and as morning began to break, Sancho persuaded
+him to come and rest in a grove of trees two miles outside the town.
+From there Sancho was again sent to look for Dulcinea, bearing many
+messages from his sorrowful master.
+
+"Cheer up, sir," said Sancho. "I'll be back in a trice. Don't be cast
+down. Faint heart never won fair lady."
+
+And Sancho rode away, leaving the Knight sitting on his horse, very
+full of melancholy. But he had not ridden far, when, turning round and
+finding that his master was no longer in sight, the squire dismounted,
+and lying down under a shady tree, began to think the matter over.
+
+"Friend Sancho," said he to himself, "what's this you are doing?"
+
+"Why, hunting for a Princess, who, my master says, is the Sun of
+Beauty, and all sorts of other fine things, and who lives in a King's
+palace, or great castle, somewhere or other."
+
+"And how are you going to find her?"
+
+"Why, it's like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay, to look for
+Dulcinea all over Toboso. My master's mad, there's no doubt of that;
+and perhaps I'm not very much better, for they say birds of a feather
+flock together. But if he's so mad as to mistake windmills for giants,
+and flocks of sheep for armies, why, it shouldn't be so very hard to
+make him believe that the first country lass I meet is the Lady
+Dulcinea. If he won't believe, I'll swear it, and stand to it, so that
+he'll think some of those wicked wizards of his have played another
+trick on him, and have changed her into some other shape just to spite
+him."
+
+Having thus settled his plans, Sancho lay there till the evening, so
+that his master might think that all the day had been spent in going
+to and from Toboso, and in looking for Dulcinea.
+
+As luck would have it, just as he mounted his ass to ride back to Don
+Quixote, he spied coming that way three country lasses mounted on
+asses. As soon as Sancho saw the girls, he made haste to get to his
+master.
+
+"What news, Sancho?" asked the Knight. "Has your fortune been good?"
+
+"Ay, marry has it, sir," answered Sancho, "you have no more to do but
+to clap spurs to 'Rozinante' and get into the open fields, and you'll
+meet my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso with two of her damsels coming to see
+you."
+
+"Blessed Heaven!" cried the Knight. "What do you say, my dear Sancho?
+Is it possible?"
+
+"Possible!" said Sancho. "Why should I play a trick on you? Come, sir,
+and you will see her presently, all dressed up and decked with jewels.
+Her damsels and she are all covered with diamonds, and rubies, and
+cloth of gold. And what is more, they are riding three flea-bitten
+gambling hags, the like of which won't be seen again."
+
+"Ambling nags, thou meanest, Sancho," said Don Quixote.
+
+"Well, well, master, gambling hags or ambling nags, it's all one and
+the same thing. Any way, I'm sure I never set eyes on more beautiful
+ladies than those that sit upon them."
+
+"Let us be moving then, Sancho. And as a reward for your good news, I
+promise you the very best things I get in our next adventure. And if
+that is not enough, then I will give you the three colts that I have
+at home in La Mancha."
+
+"Thank you for the colts," said Sancho. "As for the other things, I'm
+not sure that they will be worth so very much."
+
+They were now out of the wood, and could see the three country lasses
+at a little distance.
+
+Don Quixote looked long towards Toboso, but seeing no one anywhere but
+these girls, he was much troubled in his mind, and asked Sancho if he
+were sure that the Princess had left the city.
+
+"Left the city!" cried Sancho. "Why where are your eyes, sir? In the
+name of wonder, do you not see her and her maidens coming towards us
+now, as bright as the sun at midday?"
+
+"I see nothing, Sancho, but three country wenches riding on asses."
+
+"Now Heaven help me," cried Sancho, "is it possible that you can
+mistake three what do you call 'ems--ambling nags as white as snow,
+for three asses! Pull my beard out by the roots if it is not so."
+
+"Believe me, Sancho, they are asses."
+
+"Come, sir," answered Sancho, "do but clear your eyes, and go and
+speak to the Mistress of your Heart, for she is near you now."
+
+So saying, Sancho hurried up to one of the girls, and, jumping off his
+ass, fell on his knees before her, gabbling a lot of nonsense.
+
+Don Quixote followed, and also knelt down, gazing with doubting and
+sorrowful eyes on the creature that Sancho had told him was the
+beautiful Dulcinea. He was lost in wonder, for she was a flat-nosed,
+blubber-cheeked, bouncing country girl, and Don Quixote could not
+utter a word.
+
+"Come! get out of the way," screamed the girl, "and let us go about
+our business. We're in a hurry."
+
+"Rise, Sancho," said Don Quixote when he heard the girl's voice. "I am
+now convinced that misfortune has not yet finished with me. O most
+beautiful lady! a spiteful enchanter puts mists before my eyes, and
+hides from me your loveliness."
+
+"My grandmother take him!" cried the girl. "Listen to his gibberish!
+Get out of the way, and let us alone." And kicking her donkey in the
+ribs, she galloped away with her friends. Don Quixote followed them
+long with his eyes.
+
+"O the spite of those wicked enchanters!" he sighed, "to turn my
+beautiful Dulcinea into so vile a shape as that: to take from her the
+sweet and delicate scent of fragrant flowers, and give to her what she
+has. For, to tell the truth, Sancho, she gave me such a whiff of raw
+onions that it was like to upset me altogether."
+
+"O the vile and evil-minded enchanters!" cried Sancho. "Oh that I
+might see the lot of you threaded on one string, and hung up in the
+smoke like so many herrings." And Sancho turned away to hide his
+laughter.
+
+Don Quixote rode on, very sad, and letting "Rozinante" go where he
+pleased.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+HOW DON QUIXOTE FOUGHT WITH A LION; AND HOW HE DEFEATED THE MOORS
+
+
+As Don Quixote and Sancho Panza went along, they were overtaken by a
+gentleman in a fine green coat, who rode a very good mare. This
+gentleman stared very hard at Don Quixote, and the two began to speak
+together about knight-errantry, and were so interested in what they
+were saying, that Sancho took the opportunity of riding over to ask
+for a little milk from some shepherds, who were milking their ewes
+near at hand.
+
+While he was thus away from his master, a wagon, on top of which
+fluttered little yellow and red flags, came along the road towards
+them. Don Quixote at once imagined this to be some new adventure, and
+he called to Sancho for his helmet. At the moment, Sancho was
+bargaining with the shepherds for some curds. Hearing his master call,
+he had not time to wait till the shepherds could give him a bowl in
+which to carry them, and not wishing to lose his bargain (for he had
+paid the shepherds), he poured the curds into the Knight's helmet, and
+galloped off to see what his master wanted.
+
+"Give me my helmet," said Don Quixote, "for if I know anything of my
+business, here is an adventure for which I must be ready."
+
+The gentleman in green, hearing what Don Quixote said, looked
+everywhere, but he could see nothing except the wagon coming towards
+them, and as that had on it the King of Spain's colors, he thought
+that no doubt it was one of his Majesty's treasure-vans. He said as
+much to Don Quixote, but the Knight answered: "Sir, I cannot tell
+when, or where, or in what shape, my enemies will attack me. It is
+always wise to be ready. Fore-warned is fore-armed. Give me my helmet,
+Sancho!"
+
+Snatching it out of Sancho's unwilling hands, he clapped it on his
+head without looking into it.
+
+"What is this, Sancho?" he cried, as the whey ran down his face. "What
+is the matter with me? Is my brain melting, or am I breaking out in a
+cold sweat? If I am, it is not from fear. This must be a dreadful
+adventure that is coming. Quick. Sancho! give me something to wipe
+away the torrent of sweat, for I am almost blinded."
+
+Without a word, Sancho handed to his master a cloth. Don Quixote dried
+himself, and then took off his helmet to see what it was that felt so
+cold on his head.
+
+"What is this white stuff?" said he, putting some of the curds to his
+nose. "Sancho, you vile traitor, you have been putting curds in my
+helmet!"
+
+"Curds!--I?" cried Sancho. "Nay, the devil must have put them there.
+Would I dare to make such a mess in your helmet, sir? It must have
+been one of those vile enchanters. Where could I get curds? I would
+sooner put them in my stomach than in your helmet."
+
+"Well, that's true, I dare say," said Don Quixote. "There's something
+in that."
+
+Then again he put on the helmet, and made ready for the adventure.
+
+"Now come what may, I dare meet it," he cried.
+
+The wagon had now come near to them. On top was seated a man, and the
+driver rode one of the mules that drew it. Don Quixote rode up.
+
+"Whither go ye, my friends?" said he. "What wagon is this, and what
+have you in it? What is the meaning of the flags?"
+
+"The wagon is mine," said the driver, "and I have in it a lion that is
+being sent to the King, and the flags are flying to let the people
+know that it is the King's property."
+
+"A lion!" cried Don Quixote, "Is it a large one?"
+
+"The biggest I ever saw," said the man on top of the wagon. "I am the
+keeper, and I have had charge of many lions, but I never saw one so
+large as this. Pray get out of the way, sir, for we must hurry on to
+our stopping-place. It is already past his feeding-time; he is
+beginning to get hungry, and they are always savage when they are
+hungry."
+
+"What!" cried Don Quixote, "lion whelps against me! I'll let those
+gentlemen know who send lions this way, that I am not to be scared by
+any of their lions. So, Mr. Keeper, just jump down and open his cage,
+and let him out. In spite of all the enchanters in the world that have
+sent him to try me, I'll let the animal see who Don Quixote de la
+Mancha is."
+
+Up ran Sancho to the gentleman in green.
+
+"O good, dear sir," he cried, "don't let my master get at the lion, or
+we shall all be torn to pieces."
+
+"Why," said the gentleman, "is your master so mad that you fear he'll
+set upon such a dangerous brute."
+
+"Oh no, sir, he's not mad; he's only rash, very, very rash," cried
+Sancho.
+
+"Well," said the gentleman, "I'll see to it," and up he went to Don
+Quixote, who was trying to get the keeper to open the cage.
+
+"Sir," said he, "knight-errants ought not to engage in adventures from
+which there is no hope of coming off in safety. That is more like
+madness than courage. Besides, this is the King's wagon; it will
+never do to stop that. And after all, the lion has not been sent
+against you; it is a present to the King."
+
+"Pray, sir," cried Don Quixote, "will you attend to your own business?
+This is mine, and I know best whether this lion has been sent against
+me or not. Now you, sir," he cried to the keeper, "either open that
+cage at once, or I'll pin you to your wagon with my spear."
+
+"For mercy's sake, sir," cried the driver, "do but let me take my
+mules out of harm's way before the lion gets out. My cart and my mules
+are all I have in the world, and I shall be ruined if harm comes to
+them."
+
+"Take them out quickly, then," said Don Quixote, "and take them where
+you please."
+
+On this the driver made all the haste he could to unharness his mules,
+while the keeper called aloud, "Take notice, everybody, that it is
+against my will that I am forced to let loose the lion, and that this
+gentleman here is to blame for all the damage that will be done. Get
+out of the way, everybody: look out for yourselves."
+
+Once more the gentleman in green tried to persuade Don Quixote not to
+be so foolish, but the Knight only said, "I know very well what I am
+doing. If you are afraid, and do not care to see the fight, just put
+spurs to your mare and take yourself where you think you will be
+safe."
+
+Sancho now hurried up, and with tears in his eyes begged his master
+not to put himself in so great danger, but Don Quixote only said,
+"Take yourself away, Sancho, and leave me alone. If I am killed, go,
+as I have so often told you, to the beautiful Dulcinea, and tell
+her--you know what to tell her."
+
+The gentleman in green, finding that words were thrown away on Don
+Quixote, now quickly followed the driver, who had hastily taken his
+mules as far away as he could beyond the brow of the hill. Sancho
+hurried after them at the top speed of his ass, kicking him in the
+ribs all the while to make him go even faster, and loudly bewailing
+his master's coming death. The keeper made one more attempt to turn
+Don Quixote from his folly, but again finding it useless, very
+unwillingly opened the cage door.
+
+Meantime the Knight had been thinking whether it would be best to
+fight the lion on foot or on horseback, and he had made up his mind to
+fight on foot, for the reason that "Rozinante" would probably be too
+much afraid to face the lion. So he got off his horse, drew his sword,
+and holding his shield in front of him, marched slowly up to the cage.
+The keeper, having thrown the door wide open, now quickly got himself
+out of harm's way.
+
+The lion, seeing the cage open, and Don Quixote standing in front,
+turned round and stretched out his great paws. Then he opened his
+enormous mouth, and, letting out a tongue as long as a man's arm,
+licked the dust off his face. Now rising to his feet, he thrust his
+head out of the door and glared around with eyes like burning coals.
+
+It was a sight to make any man afraid; but Don Quixote calmly waited
+for the animal to jump out and come within reach of his sword.
+
+The lion looked at him for a moment with its great yellow eyes--then,
+slowly turning, it strolled to the back of the cage, gave a long,
+weary yawn, and lay quietly down.
+
+"Force him to come out," cried Don Quixote to the keeper, "beat him."
+
+"Not I," said the man. "I dare not for my life. He would tear me to
+pieces. And let me advise you, sir, to be content with your day's
+work. I beseech you, go no further. You have shown how brave you are.
+No man can be expected to do more than challenge his enemy and wait
+ready for him. If he does not come, the fault and the disgrace are
+his."
+
+"'Tis true," said the Knight. "Shut the door, my friend, and give me
+the best certificate you can of what you have seen me do; how you
+opened the door, and how I waited for the lion to come out, and how he
+turned tail and lay down. I am obliged to do no more."
+
+So saying, Don Quixote put on the end of his spear the cloth with
+which he had wiped the curds from his face, and began to wave to the
+others to come back.
+
+"I'll be hanged," cried Sancho when he saw this signal, "if my master
+has not killed the lion." And they all hurried up to the wagon where
+the keeper gave them a long account of what had happened, adding,
+that when he got to court he would tell the King of Don Quixote's
+bravery.
+
+"If his Majesty should happen to ask who did this thing, tell him,"
+said Don Quixote, "that it was the Knight of the Lions, for that is
+the name by which I shall now call myself."
+
+Sancho and his master now rode with the gentleman in green to his
+house, where they stopped some days, to the great contentment of
+Sancho. And of the wedding at which they were present, of the feast
+where Sancho so greatly enjoyed himself, as well as of other matters,
+you must read for yourself.
+
+When the Knight and his squire again began their travels, it chanced
+that they stopped one night at an inn. To this inn, while Don Quixote
+was outside, waiting for supper, there came a man, all dressed in
+chamois leather, and wearing over his left eye, and part of his face,
+a green patch.
+
+"Have you any lodgings, landlord?" he cried in a loud voice; "for here
+comes the fortune-telling ape, and the great puppet-show of
+Melisendra's Deliverance."
+
+"Why, bless me!" cried the innkeeper, "if here isn't Master Peter. Now
+we shall have a merry night of it. You are welcome, with all my heart.
+Where is the ape, Peter?"
+
+"Coming presently," said Master Peter. "I only came on before to see
+if lodgings were to be had."
+
+"Lodgings!" cried the landlord. "Why, I'd turn out the Duke of Alva
+himself rather than you should want room. Bring on the monkey and the
+show, for I have guests in the inn to-night who will pay well to see
+the performance."
+
+"That's good news," said Peter, going off to hurry up his cart.
+
+"Who is this Peter?" asked Don Quixote.
+
+"Why, sir," answered the landlord, "he has been going about the
+country this long time with his play of Melisendra and Don Gayferos,
+one of the very best shows that ever was seen. Then he has the
+cleverest ape in the world. You have only to ask it a question and it
+will jump on its master's shoulder and whisper the answer in his ear,
+and then Master Peter will tell you what it says. It's true, he isn't
+always right, but he so often hits the nail on the head that we
+sometimes think Satan is in him."
+
+Don Quixote no sooner saw the ape, than he marched up to it, and asked
+a question.
+
+"Ah!" said Master Peter, "the animal can't tell what is going to
+happen; only what has already happened."
+
+"I wouldn't give a brass centesimo," cried Sancho, "to know what is
+past. Who can tell that better than myself? Tell me what my wife
+Teresa is doing at home just now."
+
+Master Peter tapped his shoulder: the ape at once sprang on to it, and
+putting its head at his ear, began to chatter--as apes do--for a
+minute. Then it skipped down again, and immediately Master Peter ran
+to Don Quixote and fell on his knees before him.
+
+"O glorious restorer of knight-errantry!" he cried, "who can say
+enough in praise of the great Don Quixote de la Mancha, the righter of
+wrongs, the comfort of the afflicted and unhappy?"
+
+Don Quixote was amazed at these words, for he was certain that he was
+unknown to any one at the inn. He did not guess that Master Peter was
+a clever rogue, who, before giving a performance, always made it his
+business to find out about those who were likely to be looking on.
+
+As for Sancho, he quaked with fear.
+
+"And thou, honest Sancho," went on Master Peter, "the best squire to
+the best knight in the world, be not unhappy about your wife. She is
+well, and at this moment is dressing flax. By the same token, she has
+at her left hand, to cheer her, a broken-mouthed jug of wine."
+
+"That's like enough," said Sancho.
+
+"Well," cried Don Quixote, "if I had not seen it with my own eyes,
+nothing should have made me believe that apes have the gift of second
+sight. I am in very truth the Don Quixote de la Mancha that this
+wonderful animal has told you about."
+
+But he was not quite pleased at the idea of the ape having such
+powers, and taking Sancho aside he spoke to him seriously on the
+subject.
+
+While they spoke, the showman came to tell them that the puppet-show
+was now ready to begin, and Don Quixote and Sancho went into the room
+where it stood, with candles burning all round it. Master Peter got
+inside in order to move the puppets, and a boy standing in front
+explained what was going on.
+
+The story that was acted by the puppets was that of a certain Don
+Gayferos, who rescued his wife Melisendra from captivity by the Moors
+in the city of Saragossa. Melisendra was imprisoned in the castle, and
+the story goes that Don Gayferos, when riding past, in his search,
+spied her on the balcony. Melisendra, with the help of a rope, lets
+herself down to her husband, mounts behind him, and the two gallop
+away from the city. But Melisendra's flight has been noticed, and the
+city bells ring an alarm. The Moors rush out like angry wasps, start
+in pursuit, and the capture and death of Don Gayferos and Melisendra
+seem certain.
+
+Don Quixote listened and looked with growing excitement and anger, but
+when he saw the Moors gallop in pursuit and about to close on Don
+Gayferos and Melisendra, he could keep quiet no longer. Starting up,
+"It shall never be said," cried he, "that in my presence I suffered
+such a wrong to be done to so famous a knight as Don Gayferos. Stop
+your unjust pursuit, ye base rascals! Stop! or prepare to meet me in
+battle."
+
+Then, drawing his sword, with one spring he fell with fury on the
+Moors, hacking some in pieces, beheading others, and sending the rest
+flying into every corner. And had not Master Peter ducked and squatted
+down on the ground behind part of the show, Don Quixote would
+certainly have chopped off his head also.
+
+"Hold! hold, sir!" cried Master Peter, "for mercy's sake, hold! These
+are not real Moors. You will ruin me if you destroy my show."
+
+But Don Quixote paid not the slightest heed. He went on slashing and
+hacking till the whole show was a wreck. Everybody ran to get out of
+harm's way, and the ape scampered, chattering, on to the roof of the
+house. Sancho himself quaked with fear, for he had never before seen
+his master in such a fury.
+
+All the puppet Moors being now cut to pieces, Don Quixote became
+calmer, saying aloud, "How miserable had been the fate of poor Don
+Gayferos and Melisendra his wife if I had not been in time to save
+them from those infidel Moors! Long live knight-errantry!"
+
+"Ay, ay," moaned Master Peter in a doleful voice, "it may live long
+enough. As for me, I may as well die, for I am a ruined man and a
+beggar now."
+
+Sancho Panza took pity on the showman.
+
+"Come, come! Master Peter," said he, "don't cry. Don't be cast down.
+My master will pay you when he comes to know that he has done you an
+injury."
+
+"Truly," said Peter, "if his honor will pay for my puppets.'ll ask no
+more."
+
+"How!" cried Don Quixote. "I do not see that I have injured you, good
+Master Peter."
+
+"Not injured me!" cried Master Peter. "Do but look at those figures
+lying there, all hacked to bits."
+
+"Well," said Don Quixote, "now I know for certain a truth I have
+suspected before, that those accursed enchanters do nothing but put
+before my eyes things as they are, and then presently after change
+them as they please. Really and truly gentlemen, I vow and protest
+that all that was acted here seemed to me to be real. I could not
+contain my fury, and I acted as I thought was my duty. But if Master
+Peter will tell me the value of the figures, I will pay for them all."
+
+"Heaven bless your worship!" whined Master Peter. But had Don Quixote
+known that this same Master Peter was the very man who stole Sancho
+Panza's ass, perhaps he might have paid him in another way.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE BATTLE WITH THE BULLS; THE FIGHT WITH THE KNIGHT OF THE WHITE
+MOON; AND HOW DON QUIXOTE DIED
+
+
+Soon after this, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode forth in search of
+other adventures.
+
+They had ridden no great way when they happened upon some young people
+who had gaily dressed themselves as shepherds and shepherdesses, and
+were having a picnic in the woods. These people invited Don Quixote
+and Sancho to join their feast.
+
+When they had eaten and drunk, the Knight rose, and said that there
+was no sin worse than that of ingratitude, and that to show how
+grateful he was for the kindness that had been shown to him and to
+Sancho, he had only one means in his power.
+
+"Therefore," said he, "I will maintain for two whole days, in the
+middle of this high road leading to Saragossa, that these ladies here,
+disguised as shepherdesses, are the most beautiful damsels in the
+world, except only the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, the mistress of
+my heart."
+
+So, mounting "Rozinante" he rode into the middle of the highway and
+there took his stand, ready to challenge all comers. He had sat there
+no long time when there appeared on the road coming towards him a
+number of riders, some with spears in their hands, all riding very
+fast and close together. In front of them thundered a drove of wild
+bulls, bellowing and tossing their horns. At once all the shepherds
+and the shepherdesses ran behind trees, but Don Quixote sat bravely
+where he was.
+
+When the horsemen came near, "Get out of the way!" bawled one of them.
+"Stand clear, or these bulls will have you in pieces in no time."
+
+"Halt, scoundrels!" roared the Knight. "What are bulls to Don Quixote
+de la Mancha, if they were the fiercest that ever lived? Stop,
+hangdogs!"
+
+But the herdsmen had no time to answer, nor Don Quixote to get out of
+the way had he wanted to do so, for before any one knew what was
+happening, the bulls had run right over him and "Rozinante," leaving
+them and Sancho and "Dapple," his ass, stunned and bruised, rolling in
+the dust.
+
+As soon as Don Quixote came to his senses he got up in great haste,
+stumbling here and falling there, and began to run after the herd.
+
+"Stop, you scoundrels!" he bawled. "Stop! It is a single knight that
+defies you."
+
+But no one took the least notice of him, and he sat sadly down on the
+road, waiting till Sancho brought "Rozinante" to him. Then master and
+man went on their way, Don Quixote sore ashamed of his defeat, hurt as
+much in mind as in body.
+
+That evening they dismounted at the door of an inn, and put up
+"Rozinante" and "Dapple" in the stable. Sancho asked the landlord what
+he could give them for supper.
+
+"Why," said the man, "you may have anything you choose to call for.
+The inn can provide fowls of the air, birds of the earth, and fishes
+of the sea."
+
+"There's no need for all that," said Sancho. "If you roast a couple of
+chickens it will be enough, for my master eats but little, and for
+myself, I have no great appetite."
+
+"Chickens?" said the host. "I am sorry I have no chickens just now.
+The hawks have killed them all."
+
+"Well, then, roast us a pullet, if it be tender."
+
+"A pullet? Well, now, that is unlucky. I sent away fifty to the market
+only yesterday. But, putting pullets aside, ask for anything you
+like."
+
+"Why, then," said Sancho, pondering, "let us have some veal, or a bit
+of kid."
+
+"Sorry sir, we are just out of veal and kid also. Next week we shall
+have enough and to spare."
+
+"That helps us nicely," said Sancho. "But at any rate, let us have
+some eggs and bacon."
+
+"Eggs!" cried the landlord. "Now didn't I tell him I had no hens or
+pullets, and how then can I have eggs? No, no! Ask for anything you
+please in the way of dainties, but don't ask for hens."
+
+"Body o' me!" said Sancho, "let us have something. Tell me what you
+have, and have done."
+
+"Well, what I really and truly have is a pair of cow-heels that look
+like calves'-feet, or a pair of calves'-feet that look like cow-heels.
+You can have that and some bacon."
+
+"They are mine," cried Sancho. "I don't care whether they are feet or
+heels."
+
+And as Don Quixote had supper with some other guests who carried with
+them their own cook and their own larder, Sancho and the landlord
+supped well on the cow-heels.
+
+Some days after this, the Knight and his squire reached Barcelona.
+Neither of them had ever before been near the sea, and the galleys
+that they saw in the distance being rowed about in the bay sorely
+puzzled Sancho, who thought that the oars were their legs, and that
+they must be some strange kind of beast.
+
+Now, one morning, when Don Quixote rode out, fully armed as usual, to
+take the air on the seashore, he saw a knight riding towards him,
+armed like himself, and having a bright moon painted on his shield. As
+soon as this knight came within hearing he halted, and in a loud voice
+called out:
+
+"Illustrious Don Quixote de la Mancha, I am the Knight of the White
+Moon, of whose doings you may have heard. I am come to fight with you
+and to make you own that the Lady of my Heart, whoever she may be, is
+more beautiful by far than the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso. Which truth,
+if you will confess, I will not slay you. And if we fight, and I
+should conquer you, then I ask no more than that you shall go to your
+own home, and for the space of one year give up carrying arms or
+searching for adventures. But if you should conquer me, then my head
+shall be at your disposal, my horse and arms shall be your spoils, and
+the fame of my deeds shall be yours. Consider what I say, and let your
+answer be quick."
+
+Don Quixote was amazed at hearing these words.
+
+"Knight of the White Moon," said he very solemnly, "the fame of whose
+doings has not yet come to my ears, I dare swear that thou hast never
+seen the beautiful Dulcinea, for hadst thou ever viewed her, thou
+wouldst have been careful not to make this challenge. The sight of her
+would have made thee know that there never has been, nor can be,
+beauty to match hers. And therefore, without giving thee the lie, I
+only tell thee thou art mistaken. I accept your challenge, on your
+conditions, and at once, except that I am content with the fame of my
+own deeds, and want not yours. Choose then whichever side of the field
+you please, and let us set to."
+
+The two knights then turned their horses to take ground for their
+charge, but at this moment up rode, with some friends, the Governor of
+the city of Barcelona, who knew Don Quixote, and who fancied that
+perhaps this was some new trick being played on him. The Governor,
+seeing both knights ready to turn for their charge, asked the Knight
+of the White Moon what was the cause of the combat, and having heard
+his answer, could not believe that the affair was not a joke, and so
+stood aside.
+
+Instantly the two knights charged at top speed. But the horse of the
+Knight of the White Moon was by far the bigger and heavier and faster,
+and he came with such a shock into poor old "Rozinante" that Don
+Quixote and his horse were hurled to the ground with terrible force,
+and lay stunned and helpless. In a moment the Knight of the White Moon
+was off his horse and holding his spear at Don Quixote's throat.
+
+"Yield, Sir Knight!" he cried, "or you are a dead man."
+
+Don Quixote, sorely hurt, but with steadfast look, gasped in a faint
+voice:
+
+"I do not yield. Dulcinea del Toboso is the most beautiful woman in
+the whole world. Press on with your spear, Sir Knight, and kill me."
+
+"Nay," said the Knight of the White Moon. "That will I not do. I am
+content if the great Don Quixote return to his home for a year, as we
+agreed before we fought."
+
+And Don Quixote answered very faintly that as nothing was asked of him
+to the hurt of Dulcinea, he would carry out all the rest faithfully
+and truly. The Knight of the White Moon then galloped away toward the
+city, where one of the Governor's friends followed him, in order to
+find out who he was. The victorious knight was Samson Carrasco, who,
+some months before, had fought with and had been beaten by Don
+Quixote. And he explained to the Governor's friend that all he wanted
+in fighting was, not to harm Don Quixote, but to make him promise to
+go home, and stop there for a year, by which time he hoped that his
+madness about knight-errantry might be cured.
+
+They raised Don Quixote and took off his helmet. His face was very
+pale, and he was covered with a cold sweat. "Rozinante" was in as bad
+plight as his master, and lay where he had fallen. Sancho, in great
+grief, could speak no word, and knew not what to do; to him it was all
+as a bad dream.
+
+Don Quixote was carried on a stretcher to the town, where for a week
+he lay in bed without ever raising his head, stricken to the soul by
+the disgrace of his defeat.
+
+Sancho tried to comfort him.
+
+"Pluck up your heart and be of good cheer, sir," he cried, "and thank
+Heaven you have broken no bones. They that give must take. Let us go
+home and give up looking for adventures."
+
+"After all, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "it is only for a year. After
+that I can begin again, and perhaps then I may be able to make thee an
+Earl."
+
+"Heaven grant it" said Sancho.
+
+So when the Knight was once more able to move they set out for home,
+Don Quixote riding "Rozinante" Sancho walking, for "Dapple" carried
+the armor.
+
+But all the way Don Quixote did not recover from his melancholy, and
+when at last they reached his village:
+
+"Help me to bed," he said, "for I think that I am not very well."
+
+He was put to bed, and carefully nursed. But a fever had taken hold of
+him, and for many days Sancho Panza never left his master's bedside.
+On the sixth day, the doctor told him he was in great danger. Don
+Quixote listened very calmly, and then asked that he might be left by
+himself for a little--he had a mind to sleep. His niece and Sancho
+left the room weeping bitterly, and Don Quixote fell into a deep
+sleep.
+
+When he awoke, with a firm voice he cried:
+
+"Blessed be God! My mind is is now clear, and the clouds have rolled
+away which those detestable books of knight-errantry cast over me. Now
+can I see their nonsense and deceit. I am at the point of death, and I
+would meet it so that I may not leave behind me the character of a
+madman. Send for the lawyer, that I may make my will."
+
+Excepting only a small sum of money which he gave to Sancho Panza, he
+left all to his niece.
+
+Thereafter he fell back in bed, and lay unconscious and without
+movement till the third day, when death very gently took him.
+
+So died Don Quixote de la Mancha, a good man and a brave gentleman to
+the end.
+
+
+
+
+GULLIVER'S TRAVELS
+
+_VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT_
+
+By JONATHAN SWIFT
+
+ADAPTED BY JOHN LANG
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+GULLIVER'S BIRTH AND EARLY VOYAGES
+
+
+Two hundred years ago, a great deal of the world as we now know it was
+still undiscovered; there were yet very many islands, small and great,
+on which the eyes of white men had never looked, seas in which nothing
+bigger than an Indian canoe had ever sailed.
+
+A voyage in those days was not often a pleasant thing, for ships then
+were very bluff-bowed and slow-sailing, and, for a long voyage, very
+ill-provided with food. There were no tinned meats two hundred years
+ago, no luxuries for use even in the cabin. Sailors lived chiefly on
+salt junk, as hard as leather, on biscuit that was generally as much
+weevil as biscuit, and the water that they drank was evil-smelling and
+bad when it had been long in the ship's casks.
+
+So, when a man said good-by to his friends and sailed away into the
+unknown, generally very many years passed before he came back--if ever
+he came back at all. For the dangers of the seas were then far greater
+than they now are, and if a ship was not wrecked some dark night on an
+unknown island or uncharted reef, there was always the probability of
+meeting a pirate vessel and of having to fight for life and liberty.
+Steam has nowadays nearly done away with pirates, except on the China
+coast and in a few other out-of-the-way places. But things were
+different long ago, before steamers were invented; and sailors then,
+when they came home, had many very surprising things to tell their
+friends, many astonishing adventures to speak of, among the strange
+peoples that they said they had met in far-off lands. One man, who saw
+more wonderful things than any one else, was named Lemuel Gulliver,
+and I will try to tell you a little about one of his voyages.
+
+Gulliver was born in Nottinghamshire, and when he was only fourteen
+years old he was sent to Emanuel College, Cambridge. There he remained
+till he was seventeen, but his father had not money enough to keep him
+any longer at the University. So, as was then the custom for those who
+meant to become doctors, he was bound apprentice to a surgeon in
+London, under whom he studied for four years. But all the time, as
+often as his father sent him money, he spent some of it in learning
+navigation (which means the art of finding your way across the sea,
+far from land). He had always had a great longing to travel, and he
+thought that a knowledge of navigation would be of use to him if he
+should happen to go a voyage.
+
+After leaving London, he went to Germany, and there studied medicine
+for some years, with the view of being appointed surgeon of a ship.
+And by the help of his late master in London, such a post he did get
+on board the "Swallow" on which vessel he made several voyages. But
+tiring of this, he settled in London, and, having married, began
+practise as a doctor.
+
+He did not, however, make much money at that, and so for six years he
+again went to sea as a surgeon, sailing both to the East and to the
+West Indies.
+
+Again tiring of the sea, he once more settled on shore, this time at
+Wapping, because in that place there are always many sailors, and he
+hoped to make money by doctoring them.
+
+But this turned out badly, and on May 4, 1699, he sailed from Bristol
+for the South Seas as surgeon of a ship named the "Antelope."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+GULLIVER IS WRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT
+
+
+At first, everything went well, but after leaving the South Seas, when
+steering for the East Indies, the ship was driven by a great storm far
+to the south. The gale lasted so long that twelve of the crew died
+from the effects of the hard work and the bad food, and all the others
+were worn out and weak. On a sailing ship, when the weather is very
+heavy, all hands have to be constantly on deck, and there is little
+rest for the men. Perhaps a sail, one of the few that can still be
+carried in such a gale, may be blown to ribbons by the furious wind,
+and a new one has to be bent on.
+
+The night, perhaps, is dark, the tattered canvas is thrashing with a
+noise like thunder, the ship burying her decks under angry black seas
+every few minutes. The men's hands are numb with the cold and the wet,
+and the hard, dangerous work aloft. There is no chance of going below
+when their job is done, to "turn in" between warm, dry blankets in a
+snug berth. Possibly even those who belong to the "watch below" may
+have to remain on deck. Or, if they have the good fortune to be
+allowed to go below, they may no sooner have dropped off asleep
+(rolled round in blankets which perhaps have been wet ever since the
+gale began) than there is a thump, thump overhead, and one of the
+watch on deck bellows down the forecastle-hatch, "All hands shorten
+sail." And out they must tumble again, once more to battle with the
+hungry, roaring seas and the raging wind. So, when there has been a
+long spell of bad weather, it is no wonder that the men are worn out.
+And when, as was the case with Gulliver's ship, the food also is bad,
+it is easy to understand why so many of the crew had died.
+
+It was on the 5th of November, the beginning of summer in latitudes
+south of the equator. The storm had not yet cleared off, and the
+weather was very thick, the wind coming in furious squalls that drove
+the ship along at great speed, when suddenly from the lookout man came
+a wild cry--"Breakers ahead!"
+
+But so close had the vessel come to the rocks before they were seen
+through the thick driving spray, that immediately, with, a heavy
+plunge, she crashed into the reef, and split her bows.
+
+Gulliver and six of the crew lowered a boat and got clear of the wreck
+and of the breakers. But the men were so weak from overwork that they
+could not handle the boat in such a sea, and very soon, during a
+fierce squall, she sank. What became of the men Gulliver never knew,
+for he saw none of them again. Probably they were drowned at once,
+for they were too weak to keep long afloat in a sea breaking so
+heavily.
+
+And indeed, Gulliver himself was like to have been lost. He swam till
+no strength or feeling was left in his arms and legs, swam bravely,
+his breath coming in great sobs, his eyes blinded with the salt seas
+that broke over his head. Still he struggled on, utterly spent, until
+at last, in a part where the wind seemed to have less force, and the
+seas swept over him less furiously, on letting down his legs he found
+that he was within his depth. But the shore shelved so gradually that
+for nearly a mile he had to wade wearily through shallow water, till,
+fainting almost with fatigue, he reached dry land.
+
+By this time darkness was coming on, and there were no signs of houses
+or of people. He staggered forward but a little distance, and then, on
+the short, soft turf, sank down exhausted and slept.
+
+When he woke, the sun was shining, and he tried to rise; but not by
+any means could he stir hand or foot. Gulliver had fallen asleep lying
+on his back, and now he found that his arms and legs were tightly
+fastened to the ground. Across his body were numbers of thin but
+strong cords, and even his hair, which was very long, was pegged down
+so securely that he could not turn his head.
+
+All round about him there was a confused sound of voices, but he could
+see nothing except the sky, and the sun shone so hot and fierce into
+his eyes that he could scarcely keep them open.
+
+Soon he felt something come gently up his left leg, and forward on to
+his breast almost to his chin. Looking down as much as possible, he
+saw standing there a very little man, not more than six inches high,
+armed with a bow and arrows.
+
+Then many more small men began to swarm over him. Gulliver let out
+such a roar of wonder and fright that they all turned and ran, many of
+them getting bad falls in their hurry to get out of danger. But very
+quickly the little people came back again.
+
+This time, with a great struggle Gulliver managed to break the cords
+that fastened his left arm, and at the same time, by a violent wrench
+that hurt him dreadfully, he slightly loosened the strings that
+fastened his hair, so that he was able to turn his head a little to
+one side. But the little men were too quick for him, and got out of
+reach before he could catch any of them.
+
+Then he heard a great shouting, followed by a shrill little voice that
+called sharply, "_Tolgo phonac_," and immediately, arrows like needles
+were shot into his hand, and another volley struck him in the face.
+Poor Gulliver covered his face with his hand, and lay groaning with
+pain.
+
+Again he struggled to get loose. But the harder he fought for freedom,
+the more the little men shot arrows into him, and some of them even
+tried to run their spears into his sides.
+
+When he found that the more he struggled the more he was hurt,
+Gulliver lay still, thinking to himself that at night at least, now
+that his left hand was free, he could easily get rid of the rest of
+his bonds. As soon as the little people saw that he struggled no more,
+they ceased shooting at him; but he knew from the increasing sound of
+voices that more and more of the little soldiers were coming round
+him.
+
+Soon, a few yards from him, on the right, he heard a continued sound
+of hammering, and on turning his head to that side as far as the
+strings would let him, he saw that a small wooden stage was being
+built. On to this, when it was finished, there climbed by ladders four
+men, and one of them (who seemed to be a very important person, for a
+little page boy attended to hold up his train) immediately gave an
+order. At once about fifty of the soldiers ran forward and cut the
+strings that tied Gulliver's hair on the left side, so that he could
+turn his head easily to the right.
+
+Then the person began to make a long speech, not one word of which
+could Gulliver understand, but it seemed to him that sometimes the
+little man threatened, and sometimes made offers of kindness.
+
+As well as he could, Gulliver made signs that he submitted. Then,
+feeling by this time faint with hunger, he pointed with his fingers
+many times to his mouth, to show that he wanted something to eat.
+
+They understood him very well. Several ladders were put against
+Gulliver's sides, and about a hundred little people climbed up and
+carried to his mouth all kinds of bread and meat. There were things
+shaped like legs, and shoulders, and saddles of mutton. Very good they
+were, Gulliver thought, but very small, no bigger than a lark's wing;
+and the loaves of bread were about the size of bullets, so that he
+could take several at a mouthful. The people wondered greatly at the
+amount that he ate.
+
+When he signed that he was thirsty, they slung up on to his body two
+of their biggest casks of wine, and having rolled them forward to his
+hand they knocked out the heads of the casks. Gulliver drank them both
+off at a draught, and asked for more, for they held only about a small
+tumblerful each. But there was no more to be had.
+
+As the small people walked to and fro over his body, Gulliver was
+sorely tempted to seize forty or fifty of them and dash them on the
+ground, and then to make a further struggle for liberty. But the pain
+he had already suffered from their arrows made him think better of it,
+and he wisely lay quiet.
+
+Soon another small man, who from his brilliant uniform seemed to be an
+officer of very high rank, marched with some others on to Gulliver's
+chest and held up to his eyes a paper which Gulliver understood to be
+an order from the King of the country. The officer made a long speech,
+often pointing towards something a long way off, and (as Gulliver
+afterwards learned) told him that he was to be taken as a prisoner to
+the city, the capital of the country.
+
+Gulliver asked, by signs, that his bonds might be loosed. The officer
+shook his head and refused, but he allowed some of his soldiers to
+slack the cords on one side, whereby Gulliver was able to feel more
+comfortable. After this, the little people drew out the arrows that
+still stuck in his hands and face, and rubbed the wounds with some
+pleasant-smelling ointment, which so soothed his pain that very soon
+he fell sound asleep. And this was no great wonder, for, as he
+afterwards understood, the King's physicians had mixed a very strong
+sleeping draught with the wine that had been given him.
+
+Gulliver awoke with a violent fit of sneezing, and with the feeling of
+small feet running away from off his chest.
+
+Where was he? Bound still, without doubt, but no longer did he find
+himself lying on the ground. It puzzled him greatly that now he lay on
+a sort of platform. How had he got there?
+
+Soon he began to realize what had happened; and later, when he
+understood the language, he learned all that had been done to him
+while he slept. Before he dropped asleep, he had heard a rumbling as
+of wheels, and the shouts of many drivers. This, it seemed, was caused
+by the arrival of a huge kind of trolley, a few inches high, but
+nearly seven feet long, drawn by fifteen hundred of the King's largest
+horses.
+
+On this it was meant that he should be taken to the city. By the use
+of strong poles fixed in the ground, to which were attached many
+pulleys, and the strongest ropes to be found in the country, nine
+hundred men managed to hoist him as he slept. They then put him on the
+trolley, where they again tied him fast.
+
+It was when they were far on their way to the city that Gulliver
+awoke. The trolley had stopped for a little to breathe the horses, and
+one of the officers of the King's Guard who had not before seen
+Gulliver, climbed with some friends up his body. While looking at his
+face, the officer could not resist the temptation of putting the point
+of his sword up Gulliver's nose, which tickled him so that he woke,
+sneezing violently.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+GULLIVER IS TAKEN AS A PRISONER TO THE CAPITAL OF LILLIPUT
+
+
+The city was not reached till the following day, and Gulliver had to
+spend the night lying where he was, guarded on each side by five
+hundred men with torches and bows and arrows, ready to shoot him if he
+should attempt to move.
+
+In the morning, the King and all his court, and thousands of the
+people, came out to gaze on the wonderful sight. The trolley, with
+Gulliver on it, stopped outside the walls, alongside a very large
+building which had once been used as a temple, but the use of which
+had been given up owing to a murder having been committed in it.
+
+The door of this temple was quite four feet high and about two feet
+wide, and on each side, about six inches from the ground, was a small
+window. Inside the building the King's blacksmiths fastened many
+chains, which they then brought through one of these little windows
+and padlocked round Gulliver's left ankle. Then his bonds were cut,
+and he was allowed to get up. He found that he could easily creep
+through the door, and that there was room inside to lie down.
+
+His chains were nearly six feet long, so that he could get a little
+exercise by walking backwards and forwards outside. Always when he
+walked, thousands of people thronged around to look at him; even the
+King himself used to come and gaze by the hour from a high tower which
+stood opposite.
+
+One day, just as Gulliver had crept out from his house and had got on
+his feet, it chanced that the King, who was a very fine-looking man,
+taller than any of his people, came riding along on his great white
+charger. When the horse saw Gulliver move it was terrified, and
+plunged and reared so madly that the people feared that a terrible
+accident was going to happen, and several of the King's guards ran in
+to seize the horse by the head. But the King was a good horseman, and
+managed the animal so well that very soon it got over its fright, and
+he was able to dismount.
+
+Then he gave orders that food should be brought for Gulliver, twenty
+little carts full, and ten of wine; and he and his courtiers, all
+covered with gold and silver, stood around and watched him eating.
+After the King had gone away the people of the city crowded round, and
+some of them began to behave very badly, one man even going so far as
+to shoot an arrow at Gulliver which was not far from putting out one
+of his eyes. But the officer in command of the soldiers who were on
+guard ordered his men to bind and push six of the worst behaved of the
+crowd within reach of Gulliver, who at once seized five of them and
+put them in his coat pocket. The sixth he held up to his mouth and
+made as if he meant to eat him, whereupon the wretched little creature
+shrieked aloud with terror, and when Gulliver took out his knife, all
+the people, even the soldiers, were dreadfully alarmed. But Gulliver
+only cut the man's bonds, and let him run away, which he did in a
+great hurry. And when he took the others out of his pocket, one by
+one, and treated them in the same way, the crowd began to laugh. After
+that the people always behaved very well to Gulliver, and he became a
+great favorite. From all over the kingdom crowds flocked to see the
+Great Man Mountain.
+
+In the meantime, as Gulliver learned later, there were frequent
+meetings of the King's council to discuss the question of what was to
+be done with him. Some of the councilors feared lest he might break
+loose and cause great damage in the city. Some were of opinion that to
+keep and feed so huge a creature would cause a famine in the land, or,
+at the least, that the expense would be greater than the public funds
+could bear; they advised, therefore, that he should be killed--shot in
+the hands and face with poisoned arrows. Others, however, argued that
+if this were done it would be a very difficult thing to get rid of so
+large a dead body, which might cause a pestilence to break out if it
+lay long unburied so near the city.
+
+Finally, the King and his council gave orders that each morning the
+surrounding villages should send into the city for Gulliver's daily
+use six oxen, forty sheep, and a sufficient quantity of bread and
+wine.
+
+It was also commanded that six hundred persons should act as his
+servants; that three hundred tailors were to make for him a suit of
+clothes; and that six professors from the University were to teach him
+the language of the country.
+
+When Gulliver could speak the language, he learned a great deal about
+the land in which he now found himself. It was called Lilliput, and
+the people, Lilliputians. These Lilliputians believed that their
+kingdom and the neighboring country of Blefuscu were the whole world.
+Blefuscu lay far over the sea, to these little people dim and blue on
+the horizon, though to Gulliver the distance did not seem to be more
+than a mile. The Lilliputians knew of no land beyond Blefuscu. And as
+for Gulliver himself, they believed that he had fallen from the moon,
+or from one of the stars; it was impossible, they said, that so big a
+race of men could live on the earth. It was quite certain that there
+could not be food enough for them. They did not believe Gulliver's
+story. He must have fallen from the moon!
+
+Almost the first thing that Gulliver did when he knew the language
+fairly well, was to send a petition to the King, praying that his
+chains might be taken off and that he might be free to walk about. But
+this he was told could not then be granted. He must first, the King's
+council said, "swear a peace" with the kingdom of Lilliput, and
+afterwards, if by continued good behavior he gained their confidence,
+he might be freed.
+
+Meantime, by the King's orders, two high officers of state were sent
+to search him, Gulliver lifted up these officers in his hand and put
+them into each of his pockets, one after the other, and they made for
+the King a careful list of everything found there.
+
+Gulliver afterward saw this inventory. His snuff-box they had
+described as a "huge silver chest, full of a sort of dust." Into that
+dust one of them stepped, and the snuff, flying up in his face, caused
+him nearly to sneeze his head off. His pistols they called "hollow
+pillars of iron, fastened to strong pieces of timber," and the use of
+his bullets, and of his powder (which he had been lucky enough to
+bring ashore dry, owing to his pouch being water-tight), they could
+not understand, while of his watch they could make nothing. They
+called it "a wonderful kind of engine, which makes an incessant noise
+like a water-wheel." But some fancied that it was perhaps a kind of
+animal. Certainly it was alive.
+
+All these things, together with his sword, which he carried slung to a
+belt round his waist, Gulliver had to give up, first, as well as he
+could, explaining the use of them. The Lilliputians could not
+understand the pistols, and to show his meaning, Gulliver was obliged
+to fire one of them. At once hundreds of little people fell down as if
+they had been struck dead by the noise. Even the King, though he stood
+his ground, was sorely frightened. Most of Gulliver's property was
+returned to him; but the pistols and powder and bullets, and his
+sword, were taken away and put, for safety, under strict guard.
+
+As the King and his courtiers gained more faith in Gulliver, and
+became less afraid of his breaking loose and doing some mischief,
+they began to treat him in a more friendly way than they had hitherto
+done, and showed him more of the manners and customs of the country.
+Some of these were very curious.
+
+One of the sports of which they were most fond was rope-dancing, and
+there was no more certain means of being promoted to high office and
+power in the state than to possess great cleverness in that art.
+Indeed, it was said that the Lord High Treasurer had gained and kept
+his post chiefly through his great skill in turning somersaults on the
+tight rope. The Chief Secretary for private affairs ran him very
+close, and there was hardly a Minister of State who did not owe his
+position to such successes. Few of them, indeed, had escaped without
+severe accidents at one time or another, while trying some specially
+difficult feat, and many had been lamed for life. But however many and
+bad the falls, there were always plenty of other persons to attempt
+the same or some more difficult jump.
+
+Taught by his narrow escape from a serious accident when his horse
+first saw Gulliver, the King now gave orders that the horses of his
+army, as well as those from the Royal stables, should be exercised
+daily close to the Man Mountain. Soon they became so used to the sight
+of him that they would come right up to his foot without starting or
+shying. Often the riders would jump their chargers over Gulliver's
+hand as he held it on the ground; and once the King's huntsman, better
+mounted than most of the others, actually jumped over his foot, shoe
+and all--a wonderful leap.
+
+Gulliver saw that it was wise to amuse the King in this and other
+ways, because the more his Majesty was pleased with him the sooner was
+it likely that his liberty would be granted. So he asked one day that
+some strong sticks, about two feet in height, should be brought to
+him. Several of these he fixed firmly in the ground, and across them,
+near the top, he lashed four other sticks, enclosing a square space of
+about two and a half feet. Then to the uprights, about five inches
+lower than the crossed sticks, he tied his pocket-handkerchief, and
+stretched it tight as a drum.
+
+When the work was finished, he asked the King to let a troop exercise
+on this stage. His Majesty was delighted with the idea, and for
+several days nothing pleased him more than to see Gulliver lift up the
+men and horses, and to watch them go through their drill on this
+platform. Sometimes he would even be lifted up himself and give the
+words of command; and once he persuaded the Queen, who was rather
+timid, to let herself be held up in her chair within full view of the
+scene. But a fiery horse one day, pawing with his hoof, wore a hole in
+the handkerchief, and came down heavily on its side, and after this
+Gulliver could no longer trust the strength of his stage.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+GULLIVER IS FREED, AND CAPTURES THE BLEFUSCAN FLEET
+
+
+By this time Gulliver's clothes were almost in rags. The three hundred
+tailors had not yet been able to finish his new suit, and he had no
+hat at all, for that had been lost as he came ashore from the wreck.
+So he was greatly pleased one day when an express message came to the
+King from the coast, saying that some men had found on the shore a
+great, black, strangely-shaped mass, as high as a man; it was not
+alive, they were certain. It had never moved, though for a time they
+had watched, before going closer. After making certain that it was not
+likely to injure them, by mounting on each other's shoulders they had
+got on the top, which they found was flat and smooth, and, by the
+sound when stamped upon, they judged that it was hollow. It was
+thought that the object might possibly be something belonging to the
+Man Mountain, and they proposed by the help of five horses to bring it
+to the city.
+
+Gulliver was sure that it must be his hat, and so it turned out. Nor
+was it very greatly damaged, either by the sea or by being drawn by
+the horses over the ground all the way from the coast, except that two
+holes had been bored in the brim, to which a long cord had been fixed
+by hooks. Gulliver was much pleased to have it once more.
+
+Two days after this the King took into his head a curious fancy. He
+ordered a review of troops to be held, and he directed that Gulliver
+should stand with his legs very wide apart, while under him both horse
+and foot were commanded to march. Over three thousand infantry and one
+thousand cavalry passed through the great arch made by his legs,
+colors flying and bands playing. The King and Queen themselves sat in
+their State Coach at the saluting point, near to his left leg, and all
+the while Gulliver dared not move a hair's-breadth, lest he should
+injure some of the soldiers.
+
+Shortly after this, Gulliver was set free. There had been a meeting of
+the King's Council on the subject, and the Lord High Admiral was the
+only member in favor of still keeping him chained. This great officer
+to the end was Gulliver's bitter enemy, and though on this occasion he
+was out-voted, yet he was allowed to draw up the conditions which
+Gulliver was to sign before his chains were struck off.
+
+The conditions were:
+
+First, that he was not to quit the country without leave granted under
+the King's Great Seal.
+
+Second, that he was not to come into the city without orders; at which
+times the people were to have two hours' notice to keep indoors.
+
+Third, that he should keep to the high roads, and not walk or lie down
+in a meadow.
+
+Fourth, that he was to take the utmost care not to trample on anybody,
+or on any horses or carriages, and that he was not to lift any persons
+in his hand against their will.
+
+Fifth, that if at any time an express had to be sent in great haste,
+he was to carry the messenger and his horse in his pocket a six-days'
+journey, and to bring them safely back.
+
+Sixth, that he should be the King's ally against the Blefuscans, and
+that he should try to destroy their fleet, which was said to be
+preparing to invade Lilliput.
+
+Seventh, that he should help the workmen to move certain great stones
+which were needed to repair some of the public buildings.
+
+Eighth, that he should in "two moons' time" make an exact survey of
+the kingdom, by counting how many of his own paces it took him to go
+all round the coast.
+
+Lastly, on his swearing to the above conditions, it was promised that
+he should have a daily allowance of meat and drink equal to the amount
+consumed by seventeen hundred and twenty-four of the Lilliputians, for
+they estimated that Gulliver's size was about equal to that number of
+their own people.
+
+Though one or two of the conditions did not please him, especially
+that about helping the workmen (which he thought was making him too
+much a servant), yet Gulliver signed the document at once, and swore
+to observe its conditions.
+
+After having done so, and having had his chains removed, the first
+thing he asked was to be allowed to see the city (which was called
+Mildendo). He found that it was surrounded by a great wall about two
+and a half feet high, broad enough for one of their coaches and four
+to be driven along, and at every ten feet there were strong flanking
+towers.
+
+Gulliver took off his coat, lest the tails might do damage to the
+roofs or chimneys of the houses, and he then stepped over the wall and
+very carefully walked down the finest of the streets, one quite five
+feet wide. Wherever he went, the tops of the houses and the attic
+windows were packed with wondering spectators, and he reckoned that
+the town must hold quite half a million of people.
+
+In the center of the city, where the two chief streets met, stood the
+King's Palace, a very fine building surrounded by a wall. But he was
+not able to see the whole palace that day, because the part in which
+were the royal apartments was shut off by another wall nearly five
+feet in height, which he could not get over without a risk of doing
+damage.
+
+Some days later he climbed over by the help of two stools which he
+made from some of the largest trees in the Royal Park, trees nearly
+seven feet high, which he was allowed to cut down for the purpose. By
+putting one of the stools at each side of the wall Gulliver was able
+to step across. Then, lying down on his side, and putting his face
+close to the open windows, he looked in and saw the Queen and all the
+young Princes. The Queen smiled, and held her hand out of one of the
+windows, that he might kiss it. She was very pleasant and friendly.
+
+One day, about a fortnight after this, there came to call on him,
+Reldresal, the King's Chief Secretary, a very great man, one who had
+always been Gulliver's very good friend. This person had a long and
+serious talk with Gulliver about the state of the country.
+
+He said that though to the outward eye things in Lilliput seemed very
+settled and prosperous, yet in reality there were troubles, both
+internal and external, that threatened the safety of the kingdom.
+
+There had been in Lilliput for a very long time two parties at bitter
+enmity with each other, so bitter that they would neither eat, drink,
+nor talk together, and what one party did, the other would always try
+to undo. Each professed to believe that nothing good could come from
+the other. Any measure proposed by the party in power was by the other
+always looked upon as foolish or evil. And any new law passed by the
+Government party was said by the Opposition to be either a wicked
+attack on the liberties of the people, or something undertaken solely
+for the purpose of keeping that party in, and the Opposition out, of
+power. To such a pitch had things now come, said the Chief Secretary,
+entirely owing to the folly of the Opposition, that the business of
+the kingdom was almost at a standstill.
+
+Meantime the country was in danger of an invasion by the Blefuscans,
+who were now fitting out a great fleet, which was almost ready to sail
+to attack Lilliput. The war with Blefuscu had been raging for some
+years, and the losses by both nations of ships and of men had been
+very heavy.
+
+This war had broken out in the following way. It had always been the
+custom in Lilliput, as far back as history went, for people when
+breaking an egg at breakfast to do so at the big end. But it had
+happened, said the Chief Secretary, that the present King's
+grandfather, when a boy, had once when breaking his egg in the usual
+way, severely cut his finger. Whereupon his father at once gave strict
+commands that in future all his subjects should break their eggs at
+the small end.
+
+This greatly angered the people, who thought that the King had no
+right to give such an order, and they refused to obey. As a
+consequence no less than six rebellions had taken place: thousands of
+the Lilliputians had had their heads cut off, or had been cast into
+prison, and thousands had fled for refuge to Blefuscu, rather than
+obey the hated order.
+
+These "Big endians," as they were called, had been very well received
+at the Court of Blefuscu, and finally the Emperor of that country had
+taken upon himself to interfere in the affairs of Lilliput, thus
+bringing on war.
+
+The Chief Secretary ended the talk by saying that the King, having
+great faith in Gulliver's strength, and depending on the oath which he
+had sworn before being released, expected him now to help in defeating
+the Blefuscan fleet.
+
+Gulliver was very ready to do what he could, and he at once thought of
+a plan whereby he might destroy the whole fleet at one blow. He told
+all his ideas on the subject to the King, who gave orders that
+everything he might need should be supplied without delay. Then
+Gulliver went to the oldest seamen in the navy, and learned from them
+the depth of water between Lilliput and Blefuscu. It was, they said,
+nowhere deeper than seventy _glumgluffs_ (which is equal to about six
+feet) at high water, and there was no great extent so deep.
+
+After this he walked to the coast opposite Blefuscu, and lying down
+there behind a hillock, so that he might not be seen should any of the
+enemy's ships happen to be cruising near, he looked long through a
+small pocket-telescope across the channel. With the naked eye he could
+easily see the cliffs of Blefuscu, and soon with his telescope he made
+out where the fleet lay--fifty great men-of-war, and many transports,
+waiting for a fair wind.
+
+Coming back to the city, he gave orders for a great length of the
+strongest cable, and a quantity of bars of iron. The cable was little
+thicker than ordinary pack-thread, and the bars of iron much about the
+length and size of knitting-needles. Gulliver twisted three of the
+iron bars together and bent them to a hook at one end. He trebled the
+cable for greater strength, and thus made fifty shorter cables, to
+which he fastened the hooks.
+
+Then, carrying these in his hand, he walked back to the coast and
+waded into the sea, a little before high water. When he came to
+mid-channel, he had to swim, but for no great distance.
+
+As soon as they noticed Gulliver coming wading through the water
+towards their ships, the Blefuscan sailors all jumped overboard and
+swam ashore in a terrible fright. Never before had any of them seen or
+dreamt of so monstrous a giant, nor had they heard of his being in
+Lilliput.
+
+Gulliver then quietly took his cables and fixed one securely in the
+bows of each of the ships of war, and finally he tied the cables
+together at his end. But while he was doing this the Blefuscan
+soldiers on the shore plucked up courage and began to shoot arrows at
+him, many of which stuck in his hands and face. He was very much
+afraid lest some of these might put out his eyes; but he remembered,
+luckily, that in his inner pocket were his spectacles, which he put
+on, and then finished his work without risk to his eyes.
+
+On pulling at the cables, however, not a ship could he move. He had
+forgotten that their anchors were all down. So he was forced to go in
+closer and with his knife to cut the vessels free. While doing this he
+was of course exposed to a furious fire from the enemy, and hundreds
+of arrows struck him, some almost knocking off his spectacles. But
+again he hauled, and this time drew the whole fifty vessels after him.
+
+The Blefuscans had thought that it was his intention merely to cast
+the vessels adrift, so that they might run aground, but when they saw
+their great fleet being steadily drawn out to sea, their grief was
+terrible. For a great distance Gulliver could hear their cries of
+despair.
+
+When he had got well away from the land, he stopped in order to pick
+the arrows from his face and hands, and to put on some of the ointment
+that had been rubbed on his wounds when first the Lilliputians fired
+into him. By this time the tide had fallen a little, and he was able
+to wade all the way across the channel.
+
+The King and his courtiers stood waiting on the shore. They could see
+the vessels steadily drawing nearer, but they could not for some time
+see Gulliver, because only his head was above water. At first some
+imagined that he had been drowned, and that the fleet was now on its
+way to attack Lilliput.
+
+There was great joy when Gulliver was seen hauling the vessels; and
+when he landed, the King was so pleased that on the spot he created
+him a _Nardac_, the highest honor that it was in his power to bestow.
+
+His great success over the Blefuscans, however, turned out to be but
+the beginning of trouble for Gulliver. The King was so puffed up by
+the victory that he formed plans for capturing in the same way the
+whole of the enemy's ships of every kind. And it was now his wish to
+crush Blefuscu utterly, and to make it nothing but a province
+depending on Lilliput. Thus, he thought, he himself would then be
+monarch of the whole world.
+
+In this scheme Gulliver refused to take any part, and he very plainly
+said that he would give no help in making slaves of the Blefuscans.
+This refusal angered the King very much, and more than once he
+artfully brought the matter up at a State Council. Now, several of the
+councilors, though they pretended to be Gulliver's friends so long as
+he was in favor with the King, were really his secret enemies, and
+nothing pleased these persons better than to see that the King was no
+longer pleased with him. So they did all in their power to nurse and
+increase the King's anger, and to make him believe that Gulliver was a
+traitor.
+
+About this time there came to Lilliput ambassadors from Blefuscu,
+suing for peace. When a treaty had been made and signed (very greatly
+to the advantage of Lilliput), the Blefuscan ambassadors asked to see
+the Great Man Mountain, of whom they had heard so much, and they paid
+Gulliver a formal call. After asking him to give them some proofs of
+his strength, they invited him to visit their Emperor, which Gulliver
+promised to do.
+
+Accordingly, the next time that he met the King, he asked, as he was
+bound to do by the paper he had signed, for permission to leave the
+country for a time, in order to visit Blefuscu. The King did not
+refuse, but his manner was so cold that Gulliver could not help
+noticing it. Afterwards he learned from a friend that his enemies in
+the council had told the King lying tales of his meetings with the
+Blefuscan ambassadors, which had had the effect of still further
+rousing his anger.
+
+It happened too, most unfortunately, at this time, that Gulliver had
+offended the Queen by a well-meant, but badly-managed, effort to do
+her a service, and thus he lost also her friendship. But though he was
+now out of favor at court, he was still an object of great interest to
+every one.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+GULLIVER'S ESCAPE FROM LILLIPUT AND RETURN TO ENGLAND
+
+
+Gulliver had three hundred cooks to dress his food and these men, with
+their families, lived in small huts which had been built for them near
+his house.
+
+He had made for himself a chair and a table. On to this table it was
+his custom to lift twenty waiters, and these men then drew up by ropes
+and pulleys all his food, and his wine in casks, which one hundred
+other servants had in readiness on the ground. Gulliver would often
+eat his meal with many hundreds of people looking on.
+
+One day the King, who had not seen him eat since this table had been
+built, sent a message that he and the Queen desired to be present that
+day while Gulliver dined. They arrived just before his dinner hour,
+and he at once lifted the King and Queen and the Princes, with their
+attendants and guards, on to the table.
+
+Their Majesties sat in their chairs of state all the time, watching
+with deep interest the roasts of beef and mutton, and whole flocks of
+geese and turkeys and fowls disappear into Gulliver's mouth. A roast
+of beef of which he had to make more than two mouthfuls was seldom
+seen, and he ate them bones and all. A goose or a turkey was but one
+bite.
+
+Certainly, on this occasion, Gulliver ate more than usual, thinking by
+so doing to amuse and please the court.
+
+But in this he erred, for it was turned against him. Flimnap, the Lord
+High Treasurer, who had always been one of his enemies, pointed out to
+the King the great daily expense of such meals, and told how this huge
+man had already cost the country over a million and a half of _sprugs_
+(the largest Lilliputian gold coin). Things, indeed, were beginning to
+go very ill with Gulliver.
+
+Now it happened about this time that one of the King's courtiers, to
+whom Gulliver had been very kind, came to him by night very privately
+in a closed chair, and asked to have a talk, without any one else
+being present.
+
+Gulliver gave to a servant whom he could trust orders that no one else
+was to be admitted, and having put the courtier and his chair upon the
+table, so that he might better hear all that was said, he sat down to
+listen.
+
+Gulliver was told that there had lately been several secret meetings
+of the King's Privy Council, on his account. The Lord High Admiral
+(who now hated him because of his success against the Blefuscan
+fleet), Flimnap, the High Treasurer, and others of his enemies, had
+drawn up against him charges of treason and other crimes. The courtier
+had brought with him a copy of these charges, and Gulliver now read
+them.
+
+It was made a point against him that, when ordered to do so by the
+King, he had refused to seize all the other Blefuscan ships. It was
+also said that he would not join in utterly crushing the empire of
+Blefuscu, nor give aid when it was proposed to put to death not only
+all the Big endians who had fled for refuge to that country, but all
+the Blefuscans themselves who were friends of the Big-endians. For
+this he was said to be a traitor.
+
+He was also accused of being over-friendly with the Blefuscan
+ambassadors; and it was made a grave charge against him that though
+his Majesty had not given him written leave to visit Blefuscu, he yet
+was getting ready to go to that country, in order to give help to the
+Emperor against Lilliput.
+
+There had been many debates on these charges, said the courtier, and
+the Lord High Admiral had made violent speeches, strongly advising
+that the Great Man Mountain should be put to death. In this he was
+joined by Flimnap, and by others, so that actually the greater part of
+the council was in favor of instant death by the most painful means
+that could be used.
+
+The less unfriendly members of the council, however, while saying that
+they had no doubt of Gulliver's guilt, were yet of the opinion that,
+as his services to the kingdom of Lilliput had been great, the
+punishment of death was too severe. They thought it would be enough if
+his eyes were put out. This, they said, would not prevent him from
+being still made useful.
+
+Then began a most excited argument, the Admiral and those who sided
+with him insisting that Gulliver should be killed at once.
+
+At last the Secretary rose and said that he had a middle course to
+suggest. This was, that Gulliver's eyes should be put out, and that
+thereafter his food should be gradually so reduced in quantity that in
+the course of two or three months he would die of starvation. By which
+time, said the Secretary, his body would be wasted to an extent that
+would make it easy for five or six hundred men, in a few days, to cut
+off the flesh and take it away in cart-loads to be buried at a
+distance. Thus there would be no danger of a pestilence breaking out
+from the dead body lying near the city. The skeleton, he said, could
+then be put in the National Museum.
+
+It was finally decided that this sentence should be carried out, and
+twenty of the King's surgeons were ordered to be present in three
+days' time to see the operation of putting out Gulliver's eyes
+properly done. Sharp-pointed arrows were to be shot into the balls of
+his eyes.
+
+The courtier now left the house, as privately as he had come, and
+Gulliver was left to decide what he should do.
+
+At first he thought of attacking the city, and destroying it. But by
+doing this he must have destroyed, with the city, a great many
+thousands of innocent people, which he could not make up his mind to
+do.
+
+At last he wrote a letter to the Chief Secretary, saying that as the
+King had himself told him that he might visit Blefuscu, he had decided
+to do so that morning.
+
+Without waiting for an answer, he set out for the coast, where he
+seized a large man-of-war which was at anchor there, tied a cable to
+her bow, and then putting his clothes and his blanket on board, he
+drew the ship after him to Blefuscu. There he was well received by the
+Emperor. But as there happened to be no house big enough for him, he
+was forced, during his stay, to sleep each night on the ground,
+wrapped in his blanket.
+
+Three days after his arrival, when walking along the seashore, he
+noticed something in the water which looked not unlike a boat
+floating bottom up. Gulliver waded and swam out, and found that he was
+right. It was a boat. By the help of some of the Blefsucan ships, with
+much difficulty he got it ashore. When the tide had fallen, two
+thousand of the Emperor's dockyard men helped him to turn it over, and
+Gulliver found that but little damage had been done.
+
+He now set to work to make oars and mast and sail for the boat, and to
+fit it out and provision it for a voyage.
+
+While this work was going on, there came from Lilliput a message
+demanding that Gulliver should be bound hand and foot and returned to
+that country as a prisoner, there to be punished as a traitor. To this
+message the Emperor replied that it was not possible to bind him; that
+moreover the Great Man Mountain had found a vessel of size great
+enough to carry him over the sea, and that it was his purpose to leave
+the Empire of Blefuscu in the course of a few weeks.
+
+Gulliver did not delay his work, and in less than a month he was ready
+to sail.
+
+He put on board the boat the carcasses of one hundred oxen and three
+hundred sheep, with a quantity of bread and wine, and as much meat
+ready cooked as four hundred cooks could prepare.
+
+He also took with him a herd of six live black cows and two bulls, and
+a flock of sheep, meaning to take them with him to England, if ever he
+should get there. As food for these animals he took a quantity of hay
+and corn.
+
+Gulliver would have liked to take with him some of the people, but
+this the Emperor would not permit.
+
+Everything being ready, he sailed from Blefuscu on 24th September
+1701, and the same night anchored on the lee side of an island which
+seemed to be uninhabited. Leaving this island on the following
+morning, he sailed to the eastward for two days. On the evening of the
+second day he sighted a ship, on reaching which, to his great joy, he
+found that she was an English vessel on her way home from Japan.
+
+Putting his cattle and sheep in his coat-pockets, he went on board
+with all his cargo of provisions. The captain received him very
+kindly, and asked him from whence he had come, and how he happened to
+be at sea in an open boat.
+
+Gulliver told his tale in as few words as possible. The captain stared
+with wonder, and would not believe his story. But Gulliver then took
+from his pockets the black cattle and the sheep, which of course
+clearly showed that he had been speaking truth. He also showed gold
+coins which the Emperor of Blefuscu had given him, some of which he
+presented to the captain.
+
+The vessel did not arrive at the port of London till April, 1702, but
+there was no loss of the live stock, excepting that the rats on board
+carried off and ate one of the sheep. All the others were got safely
+ashore, and were put to graze on a bowling-green at Greenwich, where
+they throve very well.
+
+
+
+
+THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+
+ADAPTED BY AMY STEEDMAN
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+ALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP
+
+
+Far away on the other side of the world, in one of the great wealthy
+cities of China, there once lived a poor tailor called Mustapha. He
+had a wife whom he loved dearly and an only son whose name was
+Aladdin.
+
+But, sad to say, although the tailor was good and industrious, his son
+was so idle and bad that his father and mother did not know what to do
+with him. All day long he played in the streets with other idle boys,
+and when he grew big enough to learn a trade he said he did not mean
+to work at all. His poor father was very much troubled, and ordered
+Aladdin to come to the workshop to learn to be a tailor, but Aladdin
+only laughed, and ran away so swiftly that neither his father nor
+mother could catch him.
+
+"Alas!" said Mustapha sadly, "I can do nothing with this idle boy."
+
+And he grew so sad about it, that at last he fell ill and died.
+
+Then the poor widow was obliged to sell the little workshop, and try
+to make enough money for herself and Aladdin by spinning.
+
+Now it happened that one day when Aladdin was playing as usual with
+the idle street boys, a tall, dark, old man stood watching him, and
+when the game was finished he made a sign to Aladdin to come to him.
+
+"What is thy name, my boy?" asked this old man, who, though he
+appeared so kind, was really an African Magician.
+
+"My name is Aladdin," answered the boy, wondering who this stranger
+could be.
+
+"And what is thy father's name?" asked the Magician.
+
+"My father was Mustapha the tailor, but he has been dead a long time
+now," answered Aladdin.
+
+"Alas!" cried the wicked old Magician, pretending to weep, "he was my
+brother, and thou must be my nephew. I am thy long-lost uncle!" and he
+threw his arms round Aladdin's neck and embraced him.
+
+"Tell thy dear mother that I will come and see her this very day," he
+cried, "and give her this small present." And he placed in Aladdin's
+hands five gold pieces.
+
+Aladdin ran home in great haste to tell his mother the story of the
+long-lost uncle.
+
+"It must be a mistake," she said, "thou hast no uncle."
+
+But when she saw the gold she began to think that this stranger must
+be a relation, and so she prepared a grand supper to welcome him when
+he came.
+
+They had not long to wait before the African Magician appeared,
+bringing with him all sorts of fruits and delicious sweets for desert.
+
+"Tell me about my poor brother," he said, as he embraced Aladdin and
+his mother. "Show me exactly where he used to sit."
+
+Then the widow pointed to a seat on the sofa, and the Magician knelt
+down and began to kiss the place and weep over it.
+
+The poor widow was quite touched, and began to believe that this
+really must be her husband's brother, especially when he began to show
+the kindest interest in Aladdin.
+
+"What is thy trade?" he asked the boy.
+
+"Alas!" said the widow, "he will do nothing but play in the streets."
+
+Aladdin hung his head with shame as his uncle gravely shook his head.
+
+"He must begin work at once," he said. "How would it please thee to
+have a shop of thy own? I could buy one for thee, and stock it with
+silks and rich stuffs."
+
+Aladdin danced with joy at the very idea, and next day set out with
+his supposed uncle, who bought him a splendid suit of clothes, and
+took him all over the city to show him the sights.
+
+The day after, the Magician again took Aladdin out with him, but this
+time they went outside the city, through beautiful gardens, into the
+open country. They walked so far that Aladdin began to grow weary, but
+the Magician gave him a cake and some delicious fruit and told him
+such wonderful tales that he scarcely noticed how far they had gone.
+At last they came to a deep valley between two mountains, and there
+the Magician paused.
+
+"Stop!" he cried, "this is the very place I am in search of. Gather
+some sticks that we may make a fire."
+
+Aladdin quickly did as he was bid, and had soon gathered together a
+great heap of dry sticks. The Magician then set fire to them, and the
+heap blazed up merrily. With great care the old man now sprinkled some
+curious-looking powder on the flames, and muttered strange words. In
+an instant the earth beneath their feet trembled, and they heard a
+rumbling like distant thunder. Then the ground opened in front of
+them, and showed a great square slab of stone with a ring in it.
+
+By this time Aladdin was so frightened that he turned to run home as
+fast as he could, but the Magician caught him, and gave him such a
+blow that he fell to the earth.
+
+"Why dost thou strike me, uncle?" sobbed Aladdin.
+
+"Do as I bid thee," said the Magician, "and then thou shalt be well
+treated. Dost thou see that stone? Beneath it is a treasure which I
+will share with thee. Only obey me, and it will soon be ours."
+
+As soon as Aladdin heard of a treasure, he jumped up and forgot all
+his fears. He seized the ring as the Magician directed, and easily
+pulled up the stone.
+
+"Now," said the old man, "look in and thou wilt see stone steps
+leading downwards. Thou shalt descend those steps until thou comest to
+three great halls. Pass through them, but take care to wrap thy coat
+well round thee that thou mayest touch nothing, for if thou dost, thou
+wilt die instantly. When thou hast passed through the halls thou wilt
+come into a garden of fruit-trees. Go through it until thou seest a
+niche with a lighted lamp in it. Put the light out, pour forth the
+oil, and bring the lamp to me."
+
+So saying the Magician placed a magic ring upon Aladdin's finger to
+guard him, and bade the boy begin his search.
+
+Aladdin did exactly as he was told and found everything just as the
+Magician had said. He went through the halls and the garden until he
+came to the lamp, and when he had poured out the oil and placed the
+lamp carefully inside his coat he began to look about him.
+
+He had never seen such a lovely garden before, even in his dreams. The
+fruits that hung upon the trees were of every color of the rainbow.
+Some were clear and shining like crystal, some sparkled with a crimson
+light and others were green, blue, violet, and orange, while the
+leaves that shaded them were silver and gold. Aladdin did not guess
+that these fruits were precious stones, diamonds, rubies, emeralds,
+and sapphires, but they looked so pretty that he filled all his
+pockets with them as he passed back through the garden.
+
+The Magician was eagerly peering down the stone steps when Aladdin
+began to climb up.
+
+"Give me the lamp," he cried, stretching his hand for it.
+
+"Wait until I get out," answered Aladdin, "and then I will give it
+thee."
+
+"Hand it up to me at once," screamed the old man angrily.
+
+"Not till I am safely out," repeated Aladdin.
+
+Then the Magician stamped with rage, and rushing to the fire threw on
+it some more of the curious powder, uttered the same strange words as
+before, and instantly the stone slipped back into its place, the earth
+closed over it, and Aladdin was left in darkness.
+
+This showed indeed that the wicked old man was not Aladdin's uncle. By
+his magic arts in Africa he had found out all about the lamp, which
+was a wonderful treasure, as you will see. But he knew that he could
+not get it himself, that another hand must fetch it to him. This was
+the reason why he had fixed upon Aladdin to help him, and had meant,
+as soon as the lamp was safely in his hand, to kill the boy.
+
+As his plan had failed he went back to Africa, and was not seen again
+for a long, long time.
+
+But there was poor Aladdin shut up underground, with no way of
+getting out! He tried to find his way back to the great halls and the
+beautiful garden of shining fruits, but the walls had closed up, and
+there was no escape that way either. For two days the poor boy sat
+crying and moaning in his despair, and just as he had made up his mind
+that he must die, he clasped his hands together, and in doing so
+rubbed the ring which the Magician had put upon his finger.
+
+In an instant a huge figure rose out of the earth and stood before
+him.
+
+"What is thy will, my master?" it said. "I am the Slave of the Ring,
+and must obey him who wears the ring."
+
+"Whoever or whatever you are," cried Aladdin, "take me out of this
+dreadful place."
+
+Scarcely had he said these words when the earth opened, and the next
+moment Aladdin found himself lying at his mother's door. He was so
+weak for want of food, and his joy at seeing his mother was so great,
+that he fainted away, but when he came to himself he promised to tell
+her all that had happened.
+
+"But first give me something to eat," he cried, "for I am dying of
+hunger."
+
+"Alas!" said his mother, "I have nothing in the house except a little
+cotton, which I will go out and sell."
+
+"Stop a moment," cried Aladdin, "rather let us sell this old lamp
+which I have brought back with me."
+
+Now the lamp looked so old and dirty that Aladdin's mother began to
+rub it, wishing to brighten it a little that it might fetch a higher
+price.
+
+But no sooner had she given it the first rub than a huge dark figure
+slowly rose from the floor like a wreath of smoke until it reached the
+ceiling, towering above them.
+
+"What is thy will?" it asked. "I am the Slave of the Lamp, and must do
+the bidding of him who holds the Lamp."
+
+The moment the figure began to rise from the ground Aladdin's mother
+was so terrified that she fainted away, but Aladdin managed to snatch
+the lamp from her, although he could scarcely hold it in his own
+shaking hand.
+
+"Fetch me something to eat," he said in a trembling voice, for the
+terrible Genie was glaring down upon him.
+
+The Slave of the Lamp disappeared in a cloud of smoke, but in an
+instant he was back again, bringing with him a most delicious
+breakfast, served upon plates and dishes of pure gold.
+
+By this time Aladdin's mother had recovered, but she was almost too
+frightened to eat, and begged Aladdin to sell the lamp at once, for
+she was sure it had something to do with evil spirits. But Aladdin
+only laughed at her fears, and said he meant to make use of the magic
+lamp and wonderful ring, now that he knew their worth.
+
+As soon as they again wanted money they sold the golden plates and
+dishes, and when these were all gone Aladdin ordered the Genie to
+bring more, and so they lived in comfort for several years.
+
+Now Aladdin had heard a great deal about the beauty of the Sultan's
+daughter, and he began to long so greatly to see her that he could not
+rest. He thought of a great many plans, but they all seemed
+impossible, for the Princess never went out without a veil, which
+covered her entirely. At last, however, he managed to enter the palace
+and hide himself behind a door, peeping through a chink when the
+Princess passed to go to her bath.
+
+The moment Aladdin's eyes rested upon the beautiful Princess he loved
+her with all his heart, for she was as fair as the dawn of a summer
+morning.
+
+"Mother," he cried when he reached home, "I have seen the Princess,
+and I have made up my mind to marry her. Thou shalt go at once to the
+Sultan, and beg him to give me his daughter."
+
+Aladdin's mother stared at her son, and then began to laugh at such a
+wild idea. She was almost afraid that Aladdin must be mad, but he gave
+her no peace until she did as he wished.
+
+So the next day she very unwillingly set out for the palace, carrying
+the magic fruit wrapped up in a napkin, to present to the Sultan.
+There were many other people offering their petitions that day, and
+the poor woman was so frightened that she dared not go forward, and so
+no one paid any attention to her as she stood there patiently holding
+her bundle. For a whole week she had gone every day to the palace,
+before the Sultan noticed her.
+
+"Who is that poor woman who comes every day carrying a white bundle?"
+he asked.
+
+Then the Grand Vizier ordered that she should be brought forward, and
+she came bowing herself to the ground.
+
+She was almost too terrified to speak, but when the Sultan spoke so
+kindly to her she took courage, and told him of Aladdin's love for the
+Princess, and of his bold request, "He sends you this gift," she
+continued, and opening the bundle she presented the magic fruit.
+
+A cry of wonder went up from all those who stood around, for never had
+they beheld such exquisite jewels before. They shone and sparkled with
+a thousand lights and colors, and dazzled the eyes that gazed upon
+them.
+
+The Sultan was astounded, and spoke to the Grand Vizier apart.
+
+"Surely it is fit that I should give my daughter to one who can
+present such a wondrous gift?" he said....
+
+Now when three months were ended, Aladdin's mother again presented
+herself before the Sultan, and reminded him of his promise, that the
+Princess should wed her son.
+
+"I ever abide by my royal word," said the Sultan; "but he who marries
+my daughter must first send me forty golden basins filled to the brim
+with precious stones. These basins must be carried by forty black
+slaves, each led by a white slave dressed as befits the servants of
+the Sultan."
+
+Aladdin's mother returned home in great distress when she heard this,
+and told Aladdin what the Sultan had said.
+
+"Alas, my son!" she cried, "thy hopes are ended."
+
+"Not so, mother," answered Aladdin. "The Sultan shall not have long to
+wait for his answer."
+
+Then he rubbed the magic lamp, and when the Genie appeared, he bade
+him provide the forty golden basins filled with jewels, and all the
+slaves which the Sultan had demanded.
+
+Now when this splendid procession passed through the streets on its
+way to the palace, all the people came out to see the sight, and stood
+amazed when they saw the golden basins filled with sparkling gems
+carried on the heads of the great black slaves. And when the palace
+was reached, and the slaves presented the jewels to the Sultan, he
+was so surprised and delighted that he was more than willing that
+Aladdin should marry the Princess at once.
+
+"Go, fetch thy son," he said to Aladdin's mother, who was waiting
+near. "Tell him that this day he shall wed my daughter."
+
+But when Aladdin heard the news he refused to hasten at once to the
+palace, as his mother advised. First he called the Genie, and told him
+to bring a scented bath, and a robe worked in gold, such as a King
+might wear. After this he called for forty slaves to attend him, and
+six to walk before his mother, and a horse more beautiful than the
+Sultan's, and lastly, for ten thousand pieces of gold put up in ten
+purses.
+
+When all these things were ready, and Aladdin was dressed in his royal
+robe, he set out for the palace. As he rode along on his beautiful
+horse, attended by his forty slaves, he scattered the golden pieces
+out of the ten purses among the crowd, and all the people shouted with
+joy and delight. No one knew that this was the idle boy who used to
+play about the streets but they thought he was some great foreign
+Prince.
+
+Thus Aladdin arrived at the palace in great state, and when the Sultan
+had embraced him, he ordered that the wedding feast should be prepared
+at once, and that the marriage should take place that day.
+
+"Not so, your Majesty," said Aladdin; "I will not marry the Princess
+until I have built a palace fit for the daughter of the Sultan."
+
+Then he returned home, and once more called up the Slave of the Lamp.
+
+"Build me the fairest palace ever beheld by mortal eye," ordered
+Aladdin. "Let it be built of marble and jasper and precious stones. In
+the midst I would have a great hall, whose walls shall be of gold and
+silver, lighted by four-and-twenty windows. These windows shall all be
+set with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, and one only
+shall be left unfinished. There must also be stables with horses, and
+slaves to serve in the palace. Begone, and do thy work quickly."
+
+And lo! in the morning when Aladdin looked out, there stood the most
+wonderful palace that ever was built. Its marble walls were flushed a
+delicate pink in the morning light, and the jewels flashed from every
+window.
+
+Then Aladdin and his mother set off for the Sultan's palace, and the
+wedding took place that day. The Princess loved Aladdin as soon as she
+saw him, and great were the rejoicings throughout the city.
+
+The next day Aladdin invited the Sultan to visit the new palace, and
+when he entered the great hall, whose walls were of gold and silver
+and whose windows were set with jewels, he was filled with admiration
+and astonishment.
+
+"It is the wonder of the world," he cried. "Never before have mortal
+eyes beheld such a beautiful palace. One thing alone surprises me. Why
+is there one window left unfinished?"
+
+"Your Majesty," answered Aladdin, "this has been done with a purpose,
+for I wished that thine own royal hand should have the honor of
+putting the finishing touch to my palace."
+
+The Sultan was so pleased when he heard this, that he sent at once for
+all the court jewelers and ordered them to finish the window like the
+rest.
+
+The court jewelers worked for many days, and then sent to tell the
+Sultan that they had used up all the jewels they possessed, and still
+the window was not half finished. The Sultan commanded that his own
+jewels should be given to complete the work; even when these were used
+the window was not finished.
+
+Then Aladdin ordered the jewelers to stop their work, and to take back
+all the Sultan's jewels as well as their own. And that night he called
+up the Slave of the Lamp once more, and bade him finish the window.
+This was done before the morning, and great was the surprise of the
+Sultan and all his workmen.
+
+Now Aladdin did not grow proud of his great riches but was gentle and
+courteous to all, and kind to the poor, so that the people all loved
+him dearly. He fought and won many battles for the Sultan, and was the
+greatest favorite in the land.
+
+But far away in Africa there was trouble brewing for Aladdin. The
+wicked old Magician who had pretended to be Aladdin's uncle found out
+by his magic powers that the boy had not perished when he left him
+underground, but had somehow managed to escape and become rich and
+powerful.
+
+"He must have discovered the secret of the lamp," shrieked the
+Magician, tearing his hair with rage. "I will not rest day or night
+until I shall have found some way of taking it from him."
+
+So he journeyed from Africa to China, and when he came to the city
+where Aladdin lived and saw the wonderful palace, he nearly choked
+with fury to see all its splendor and richness. Then he disguised
+himself as a merchant, and bought a number of copper lamps, and with
+these went from street to street, crying, "New lamps for old."
+
+As soon as the people heard his cry, they crowded round him, laughing
+and jeering, for they thought he must be mad to make such an offer.
+
+Now it happened that Aladdin was out hunting, and the Princess sat
+alone in the hall of the jeweled windows. When, therefore, she heard
+the noise that was going on in the street outside, she called to her
+slaves to ask what it meant.
+
+Presently one of the slaves came back, laughing so much that she could
+hardly speak.
+
+"It is a curious old man who offers to give new lamps for old," she
+cried. "Did any one ever hear before of such a strange way of
+trading?"
+
+The Princess laughed too, and pointed to an old lamp which hung in a
+niche close by.
+
+"There is an old enough lamp," she said. "Take it and see if the old
+man will really give a new one for it."
+
+The slave took it down and ran out to the street once more, and when
+the Magician saw that it was indeed what he wanted, he seized the
+Magic Lamp with both his hands.
+
+"Choose any lamp you like," he said, showing her those of bright new
+copper. He did not care now what happened. She might have all the new
+lamps if she wanted them.
+
+Then he went a little way outside the city, and when he was quite
+alone he took out the Magic Lamp and rubbed it gently. Immediately the
+Genie stood before him and asked what was his will.
+
+"I order thee to carry off the palace of Aladdin, with the Princess
+inside, and set it down in a lonely spot in Africa."
+
+And in an instant the palace, with every one in it, had disappeared,
+and when the Sultan happened to look out of his window, lo! there was
+no longer a palace to be seen.
+
+"This must be enchantment," he cried.
+
+Then he ordered his men to set out and bring Aladdin to him in chains.
+
+The officers met Aladdin as he was returning from the hunt, and they
+immediately seized him, loaded him with chains, and carried him off to
+the Sultan. But as he was borne along, the people gathered around him,
+for they loved him dearly, and vowed that no harm should befall him.
+
+The Sultan was beside himself with rage when he saw Aladdin, and gave
+orders that his head should be cut off at once. But the people had
+begun to crowd into the palace, and they were so fierce and
+threatening that he dared not do as he wished. He was obliged to order
+the chains to be taken off, and Aladdin to be set free.
+
+As soon as Aladdin was allowed to speak he asked why all this was done
+to him.
+
+"Wretch!" exclaimed the Sultan, "come hither, and I will show thee."
+
+Then he led Aladdin to the window and showed him the empty space where
+his palace had once stood.
+
+"Think not that I care for thy vanished palace," he said. "But where
+is the Princess, my daughter?"
+
+So astonished was Aladdin that for some time he could only stand
+speechless, staring at the place where his palace ought to have been.
+
+At last he turned to the Sultan.
+
+"Your Majesty," he said, "grant me grace for one month, and if by that
+time I have not brought back thy daughter to thee, then put me to
+death as I deserve."
+
+So Aladdin was set free, and for three days he went about like a
+madman, asking every one he met where his palace was. But no one could
+tell him, and all laughed at his misery. Then he went to the river to
+drown himself; but as he knelt on the bank and clasped his hands to
+say his prayers before throwing himself in, he once more rubbed the
+Magic Ring. Instantly the Genie of the Ring stood before him.
+
+"What is thy will, O master?" it asked.
+
+"Bring back my Princess and my palace," cried Aladdin, "and save my
+life."
+
+"That I cannot do," said the Slave of the Ring. "Only the Slave of the
+Lamp has power to bring back thy palace."
+
+"Then take me to the place where my palace now stands," said Aladdin,
+"and put me down beneath the window of the Princess."
+
+And almost before Aladdin had done speaking he found himself in
+Africa, beneath the windows of his own palace.
+
+He was so weary that he lay down and fell fast asleep; but before
+long, when day dawned, he was awakened by the song of the birds, and
+as he looked around his courage returned. He was now sure that all his
+misfortunes must have been caused by the loss of the Magic Lamp, and
+he determined to find out as soon as possible who had stolen it.
+
+That same morning the Princess awoke feeling happier than she had felt
+since she had been carried off. The sun was shining so brightly, and
+the birds were singing so gaily, that she went to the window to greet
+the opening day. And who should she see standing beneath her window
+but Aladdin!
+
+With a cry of joy she threw open the casement and the sound made
+Aladdin look up. It was not long before he made his way through a
+secret door and held her in his arms.
+
+"Tell me, Princess," said Aladdin, when they had joyfully embraced
+each other many times, "what has become of the old lamp which hung in
+a niche of the great hall?"
+
+"Alas! my husband," answered the Princess, "I fear my carelessness has
+been the cause of all our misfortunes."
+
+Then she told him how the wicked old Magician had pretended to be a
+merchant, and had offered new lamps for old, and how he had thus
+managed to secure the Magic Lamp.
+
+"He has it still," she added, "for I know that he carries it always,
+hidden in his robe."
+
+"Princess," said Aladdin, "I must recover this lamp, and thou shalt
+help me. To-night when the Magician dines with thee, dress thyself in
+thy costliest robes, and be kind and gracious to him. Then bid him
+fetch some of the wines of Africa, and when he is gone, I will tell
+thee what thou shalt do."
+
+So that night the Princess put on her most beautiful robes, and looked
+so lovely and was so kind when the Magician came in, that he could
+scarcely believe his eyes. For she had been sad and angry ever since
+he had carried her off.
+
+"I believe now that Aladdin must be dead," she said, "and I have made
+up my mind to mourn no longer. Let us begin our feast. But see! I grow
+weary of these wines of China, fetch me instead the wine of thy own
+country."
+
+Now Aladdin had meanwhile prepared a powder which he directed the
+Princess to place in her own wine-cup. So when the Magician returned
+with the African wine, she filled her cup and offered it to him in
+token of friendship. The Magician drank it up eagerly, and scarcely
+had he finished when he dropped down dead.
+
+Then Aladdin came out of the next chamber where he had hidden himself,
+and searched in the Magician's robe until he found the Magic Lamp. He
+rubbed it joyfully, and when the Genie appeared, ordered that the
+palace should be carried back to China, and set down in its own place.
+
+The following morning, when the Sultan rose early, for he was too sad
+to take much rest, he went to the window to gaze on the place where
+Aladdin's palace had once stood. He rubbed his eyes, and stared wildly
+about.
+
+"This must be a dream," he cried, for there stood the palace in all
+its beauty, looking fairer than ever in the morning light.
+
+Not a moment did the Sultan lose, but he rode over to the palace at
+once, and when he had embraced Aladdin and his daughter, they told him
+the whole story of the African Magician. Then Aladdin showed him the
+dead body of the wicked old man, and there was peace between them once
+more.
+
+But there was still trouble in store for Aladdin. The African Magician
+had a younger brother who also dealt in magic, and who was if possible
+even more wicked than his elder brother.
+
+Full of revenge, this younger brother started for China, determined
+to punish Aladdin and steal the Magic Lamp for himself. As soon as he
+arrived he went in secret to the cell of a holy woman called Fatima,
+and obliged her to give him her robe and veil as a disguise. Then to
+keep the secret safe he killed the poor woman.
+
+Dressed in the robe and veil, the wicked Magician walked through the
+streets near Aladdin's palace, and all the people as he passed by
+knelt and kissed his robe, for they thought he was indeed the holy
+woman.
+
+As soon as the Princess heard that Fatima was passing by in the
+street, she sent and commanded her to be brought into the hall, and
+she treated the supposed holy woman with great respect and kindness,
+for she had often longed to see her.
+
+"Is not this a fine hall?" she asked, as they sat together in the hall
+of the jeweled windows.
+
+"It is indeed most beautiful," answered the Magician, who kept his
+veil carefully down, "but to my mind there is one thing wanting. If
+only thou couldst have a roc's egg hung in the dome it would be
+perfect."
+
+As soon as the Princess heard these words she became discontented and
+miserable, and when Aladdin came in, she looked so sad that he at once
+asked what was the matter.
+
+"I can never be happy until I have a roc's egg hanging from the dome
+of the great hall," she answered.
+
+"In that case thou shalt soon be happy," said Aladdin gaily, and
+taking down the lamp, he summoned the Genie.
+
+But when the Slave of the Lamp heard the order his face grew terrible
+with rage, and his eyes gleamed like burning coals.
+
+"Vile wretch!" he shrieked, "have I not given thee all thy wishes, and
+now dost thou ask me to kill my master, and hang him as an ornament in
+thy palace? Thou deservest truly to die; but I know that the request
+cometh not from thine own heart, but was the suggestion of that wicked
+Magician who pretends to be a holy woman."
+
+With these words the Genie vanished, and. Aladdin went at once to the
+room where the Princess was awaiting him.
+
+"I have a headache," he said. "Call the holy woman, that she may place
+her hand upon my forehead and ease the pain."
+
+But the moment that the false Fatima appeared Aladdin sprang up and
+plunged his dagger into that evil heart.
+
+"What hast thou done?" cried the Princess. "Alas! thou hast slain the
+holy woman."
+
+"This is no holy woman," answered Aladdin, "but an evil Magician whose
+purpose was to destroy us both."
+
+So Aladdin was saved from the wicked design of the two Magicians, and
+there was no one left to disturb his peace. He and the Princess lived
+together in great happiness for many years, and when the Sultan died
+they succeeded to the throne, and ruled both wisely and well. And so
+there was great peace throughout the land.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ENCHANTED HORSE
+
+
+It was New Year's day in Persia, the most splendid feast-day of all
+the year, and the King had been entertained, hour after hour, by the
+wonderful shows prepared for him by his people. Evening was drawing on
+and the court was just about to retire, when an Indian appeared,
+leading a horse which he wished to show to the King. It was not a real
+horse, but it was so wonderfully made that it looked exactly as if it
+were alive.
+
+"Your Majesty," cried the Indian, as he bowed himself to the ground,
+"I beg thou wilt look upon this wonder. Nothing thou hast seen to-day
+can equal this horse of mine. I have only to mount upon its back and
+wish myself in any part of the world, and it carries me there in a few
+minutes." Now the King of Persia was very fond of curious and clever
+things, so he looked at the horse with great interest.
+
+"It seems only a common horse," he said, "but thou shalt show us what
+it can do."
+
+Then he pointed to a distant mountain, and bade the Indian to fetch a
+branch from the palm-trees which grew near its foot.
+
+The Indian vaulted into the saddle, turned a little peg in the horse's
+neck, and in a moment was flying so swiftly through the air that he
+soon disappeared from sight. In less than a quarter of an hour he
+reappeared, and laid the palm-branch at the King's feet.
+
+"Thou art right," cried the King; "thy enchanted horse is the most
+wonderful thing I have yet seen. What is its price? I must have it for
+my own."
+
+The Indian shook his head.
+
+"Your Majesty," he said, "this horse can never be sold for money, but
+can only be exchanged for something of equal value. It shall be thine
+only if thou wilt give me instead the Princess, your daughter, for my
+wife."
+
+At these words the King's son sprang to his feet.
+
+"Sire," he cried, "thou wilt never dream of granting such a request."
+
+"My son," answered the King, "at whatever cost I must have this
+wonderful horse. But before I agree to the exchange, I would wish thee
+to try the horse, and tell me what thou thinkest of it."
+
+The Indian, who stood listening to what they said, was quite willing
+that the Prince should try the Enchanted Horse, and began to give him
+directions how to guide it. But as soon as the Prince was in the
+saddle and saw the peg which made the horse start, he never waited to
+hear more. He turned the screw at once, and went flying off through
+the air.
+
+"Alas!" cried the Indian, "he has gone off without learning how to
+come back. Never will he be able to stop the horse unless he finds the
+second peg."
+
+The King was terribly frightened when he heard the Indian's words,
+for, by this time, the Prince had disappeared from sight.
+
+"Wretch," he cried, "thou shalt be cast into prison, and unless my son
+returns in safety, thou shalt be put to death."
+
+Meanwhile the Prince had gone gaily sailing up into the air until he
+reached the clouds, and could no longer see the earth below. This was
+very pleasant, and he felt that he had never had such a delicious ride
+in his life before. But presently he began to think it was time to
+descend. He screwed the peg round and round, backwards and forwards,
+but it seemed to make no difference. Instead of coming down he sailed
+higher and higher, until he thought he was going to knock his head
+against the blue sky.
+
+What was to be done? The Prince began to grow a little nervous, and he
+felt over the horse's neck to see if there was another peg to be found
+anywhere. To his joy, just behind the ear. He touched a small screw,
+and when he turned it, he felt he was going slower and slower, and
+gently turning round. Then he shouted with joy as the Enchanted Horse
+flew downwards through the starry night, and he saw, stretched out
+before him, a beautiful city gleaming white through the purple mantle
+of the night.
+
+Everything was strange to him, and he did not know in what direction
+to guide the horse, so he let it go where it would, and presently it
+stopped on the roof of a great marble palace. There was a gallery
+running round the roof, and at the end of the gallery there was a door
+leading down some white marble steps.
+
+The Prince began at once to descend the steps, and found himself in a
+great hall where a row of black slaves were sleeping soundly, guarding
+the entrance to a room beyond.
+
+Very softly the Prince crept past the guards, and lifting the curtain
+from the door, looked in.
+
+And there he saw a splendid room lighted by a thousand lights and
+filled with sleeping slaves, and in the middle, upon a sofa, was the
+most beautiful Princess his eyes had ever gazed upon.
+
+She was so lovely that the Prince held his breath with admiration as
+he looked at her. Then he went softly to her side, and, kneeling by
+the sofa, gently touched her hand. The Princess sighed and opened her
+eyes, but before she could cry out, he begged her in a whisper to be
+silent and fear nothing.
+
+"I am a Prince," he said, "the son of the King of Persia. I am in
+danger of my life here, and crave thy protection."
+
+Now this Princess was no other than the daughter of the King of
+Bengal, who happened to be staying alone in her summer palace outside
+the city.
+
+"I will protect thee," said the Princess kindly, giving him her hand.
+Then she awoke her slaves and bade them give the stranger food and
+prepare a sleeping-room for him.
+
+"I long to hear thy adventures and how thou camest here," she said to
+the Prince, "but first thou must rest and refresh thyself."
+
+Never before had the Princess seen any one so gallant and handsome as
+this strange young Prince. She dressed herself in her loveliest robes,
+and twined her hair with her most precious jewels, that she might
+appear as beautiful as possible in his eyes. And when the Prince saw
+her again, he thought her the most charming Princess in all the world,
+and he loved her with all his heart. But when he had told her all his
+adventures she sighed to think that he must now leave her and return
+to his father's court.
+
+"Do not grieve," he said, "I will return in state as befits a Prince,
+and demand thy hand in marriage from the King thy father."
+
+"Stay but a few days ere thou goest," replied the Princess. "I cannot
+part with thee so soon."
+
+The Prince was only too willing to wait a while, and the Princess
+entertained him so well with feasts and hunting-parties that day after
+day slipped by, and still he lingered.
+
+At last, however, the thought of his home and his father's grief made
+him decide to return at once.
+
+"My Princess," he said, "since it is so hard to part, wilt thou not
+ride with me upon the Enchanted Horse? When we are once more in Persia
+our marriage shall take place, and then we will return to the King thy
+father."
+
+So together they mounted the Enchanted Horse and the Prince placed his
+arm around the Princess and turned the magic peg. Up and up they flew
+over land and sea, and then the Prince turned the other screw, and
+they landed just outside his father's city. He guided the horse to a
+palace outside the gates, and there he left the Princess, for he
+wished to go alone to prepare his father.
+
+Now when the Prince reached the court he found every one dressed in
+brown, and all the bells of the city were tolling mournfully.
+
+"Why is every one so sad?" he asked of one of the guards.
+
+"The Prince, the Prince!" cried the man. "The Prince has come back."
+
+And soon the joyful news spread over the town, and the bells stopped
+tolling and rang a joyful peal.
+
+"My beloved son!" cried the King, as he embraced him. "We thought thou
+wert lost for ever, and we have mourned for thee day and night."
+
+Without waiting to hear more, the Prince began to tell the King all
+his adventures, and how the Princess of Bengal awaited him in the
+palace outside the gates.
+
+"Let her be brought here instantly," cried the King, "and the marriage
+shall take place to-day."
+
+Then he ordered that the Indian should be set free at once and allowed
+to depart with the Enchanted Horse.
+
+Great was the surprise of the Indian when, instead of having his head
+cut off as he had expected, he was allowed to go free with his
+wonderful horse. He asked what adventures had befallen the Prince, and
+when he heard of the Princess who was waiting in the palace outside
+the gates, a wicked plan came into his head.
+
+He took the Enchanted Horse, and went straight to the palace before
+the King's messengers could reach it.
+
+"Tell the Princess," he said to the slaves, "that the Prince of Persia
+has sent me to bring her to his father's palace upon the Enchanted
+Horse."
+
+The Princess was very glad when she heard this message, and she
+quickly made herself ready to go with the messenger.
+
+But alas! as soon as the Indian turned the peg and the horse flew
+through the air, she found she was being carried off, far away from
+Persia and her beloved Prince.
+
+All her prayers and entreaties were in vain. The Indian only mocked at
+her, and told her he meant to marry her himself.
+
+Meanwhile the Prince and his attendants had arrived at the palace
+outside the gates, only to find that the Indian had been there before
+them and had carried off the Princess.
+
+The Prince was nearly beside himself with grief, but he still hoped
+to find his bride. He disguised himself as a dervish and set off to
+seek for her, vowing that he would find her, or perish in the attempt.
+
+By this time the Enchanted Horse had traveled many hundreds of miles.
+Then, as the Indian was hungry, it was made to descend into a wood
+close to a town of Cashmere.
+
+Here the Indian went in search of food, and when he returned with some
+fruit he shared it with the Princess, who was faint and weary.
+
+As soon as the Princess had eaten a little she felt stronger and
+braver, and as she heard horses galloping past, she called out loudly
+for help.
+
+The men on horseback came riding at once to her aid, and she quickly
+told them who she was, and how the Indian had carried her off against
+her will. Then the leader of the horsemen, who was the Sultan of
+Cashmere, ordered his men to cut off the Indian's head. But he placed
+the Princess upon his horse and led her to his palace.
+
+Now the Princess thought that her troubles were all at an end, but she
+was much mistaken. The Sultan had no sooner seen her than he made up
+his mind to marry her, and he ordered the wedding preparations to be
+begun without loss of time.
+
+In vain the Princess begged to be sent back to Persia. The Sultan only
+smiled and fixed the wedding-day. Then when she saw that nothing would
+turn him from his purpose, she thought of a plan to save herself. She
+began talking all the nonsense she could think of and behaving as if
+she were mad, and so well did she pretend, that the wedding was put
+off, and all the doctors were called in to see if they could cure her.
+
+But whenever a doctor came near the Princess she became so wild and
+violent that he dared not even feel her pulse, so none of them
+discovered that she was only pretending.
+
+The Sultan was in great distress, and sent far and near for the
+cleverest doctors. But none of them seemed to be able to cure the
+Princess of her madness.
+
+All this time the Prince of Persia was wandering about in search of
+his Princess, and when he came to one of the great cities of India, he
+heard every one talking about the sad illness of the Princess of
+Bengal who was to have married the Sultan. He at once disguised
+himself as a doctor and went to the palace, saying he had come to cure
+the Princess.
+
+The Sultan received the new doctor with joy, and led him at once to
+the room where the Princess sat alone, weeping and wringing her hands.
+
+"Your Majesty," said the disguised Prince, "no one else must enter the
+room with me, or the cure will fail."
+
+So the Sultan left him, and the Prince went close to the Princess, and
+gently touched her hand.
+
+"My beloved Princess," he said, "dost thou not know me?"
+
+As soon as the Princess heard that dear voice she threw herself into
+the Prince's arms, and her joy was so great that she could not speak.
+
+"We must at once plan our escape," said the Prince. "Canst thou tell
+me what has become of the Enchanted Horse?"
+
+"Naught can I tell thee of it, dear Prince," answered the Princess,
+"but since the Sultan knows its value, no doubt he has kept it in some
+safe place."
+
+"Then first we must persuade the Sultan that thou art almost cured,"
+said the Prince. "Put on thy costliest robes and dine with him
+to-night, and I will do the rest."
+
+The Sultan was charmed to find the Princess so much better, and his
+joy knew no bounds when the new doctor told him that he hoped by the
+next day to complete the cure.
+
+"I find that the Princess has somehow been infected by the magic of
+the Enchanted Horse," he said. "If thou wilt have the horse brought
+out into the great square, and place the Princess upon its back, I
+will prepare some magic perfumes which will dispel the enchantment.
+Let all the people be gathered together to see the sight, and let the
+Princess be arrayed in her richest dress and decked with all her
+jewels."
+
+So next morning the Enchanted Horse was brought out into the crowded
+square, and the Princess was mounted upon its back. Then the disguised
+Prince placed four braziers of burning coals round the horse and threw
+into them a perfume of a most delicious scent. The smoke of the
+perfume rose in thick clouds, almost hiding the Princess, and at that
+moment the Prince leaped into the saddle behind her, turned the peg,
+and sailed away into the blue sky.
+
+But as he swept past the Sultan, he cried aloud, "Sultan of Cashmere,
+next time thou dost wish to wed a Princess, ask her first if she be
+willing to wed thee."
+
+So this was the manner in which the Prince of Persia carried off the
+Princess of Bengal for the second time. The Enchanted Horse never
+stopped until it had carried them safely back to Persia, and there
+they were married amid great rejoicings.
+
+But what became of the Enchanted Horse? Ah! that is a question which
+no one can answer.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+SINDBAD THE SAILOR
+
+
+In the city of Bagdad, far away in Persia, there lived a poor man
+called Hindbad. He was a porter, and one hot afternoon, as he was
+carrying a very heavy load, he stopped to rest in a quiet street near
+a beautiful house which he had never seen before. The pavement outside
+was sprinkled with rose-water, which felt very cool and pleasant to
+his hot, weary feet, and from the open windows came the most delicious
+scents which perfumed all the air.
+
+Hindbad wondered who lived in this beautiful house, and presently he
+went up to one of the splendidly dressed servants, who was standing at
+the door, and asked to whom it belonged. The servant stared in
+amazement.
+
+"Dost thou indeed live in Bagdad and knowest not my master's name?" he
+said. "He is the great Sindbad the Sailor, the man who has sailed all
+round the world, and who has had the most wonderful adventures under
+the sun."
+
+Now Hindbad had often heard of this wonderful man and of his great
+riches, and as he looked at the beautiful palace and saw the
+splendidly dressed servants it made him feel sad and envious. As he
+turned away sighing, to take up his load again, he looked up into the
+blue sky, and said aloud:
+
+"What a difference there is between this man's lot and mine. He has
+all that he wants, and nothing to do but to spend money and enjoy a
+pleasant life, while I have to work hard to get dry bread enough to
+keep myself and my children alive. What has he done that he should be
+so lucky, and what have I done that I should be so miserable?"
+
+Just then one of the servants touched him on the shoulder, and said to
+him: "My noble master wishes to see thee, and has bidden me fetch thee
+to him."
+
+The poor porter was frightened at first, for he thought some one might
+have overheard what he had been saying, but the servant took his arm
+and led him into the great dining-hall. There were many guests seated
+round the table, on which was spread a most delicious feast, and at
+the head of the table sat a grave, stately old man with a long white
+beard. This was Sindbad the Sailor. He smiled kindly on poor
+frightened Hindbad, and made a sign that he should come and sit at his
+right hand. Then all the most delicious things on the table were
+offered by the servants to Hindbad, and his glass was filled with the
+choicest wine, so that he began to feel it must all be a dream.
+
+But when the feast was over Sindbad turned to him and asked him what
+it was he had been saying outside the window just before he came in.
+
+Then Hindbad was very much ashamed, and hung his head as he answered:
+"My lord, I was tired and ill-tempered, and I said foolish words,
+which I trust thou wilt now pardon."
+
+"Oh," replied Sindbad, "I am not so unjust as to blame thee. I am
+indeed only sorry for thee. But thou wert wrong in thinking that I
+have always led an easy life, and that these riches came to me without
+trouble or suffering. I have won them by years of toil and danger."
+
+Then turning to his other guests he said, "Yes, my friends, the tale
+of my adventures is enough to warn every one of you never to go in
+search of wealth. I have never told you the story of my voyages, but
+if you will listen I will begin this very night."
+
+So the servants were ordered to carry home the porter's load, that he
+might stay in Sindbad's palace that evening and listen to the story.
+
+"My father left me a great deal of money when I was a young man, but I
+spent it so quickly and foolishly that I began to see it would soon
+all be gone. This made me stop and think, for I did not like the idea
+of being poor. So I counted up all the money that remained, and made
+up my mind that I would trade with it. I joined a company of
+merchants, and we set sail in a good ship, meaning to go from place to
+place, and sell or exchange our goods at whatever towns we stopped.
+And so began my first voyage.
+
+"For the first few days I could think of nothing but the heaving of
+the waves; but by and by I began to feel better, and never again was I
+at all unhappy upon the sea. One afternoon, when the wind had suddenly
+dropped and we were lying becalmed, we found ourselves near a little
+low green island, which looked like a meadow, and only just showed
+above the sea. The captain of the ship gave us permission to land, and
+presently we were all enjoying ourselves on the green meadow. We
+walked about for some time and then sat down to rest, and some of us
+set to work to light a fire, that we might make our evening meal.
+
+"But scarcely had the fire begun to burn, when we heard loud shouts
+from the ship warning us to come back at once, for what we had taken
+to be an island was indeed the back of a sleeping whale. My companions
+all rushed to the boats, but before I could follow them the great
+monster dived down and disappeared, leaving me struggling in the
+water.
+
+"I clung to a piece of wood which we had brought from the ship to make
+the fire, and I could only hope that I would soon be picked up by my
+companions. But alas! there was so much confusion on board that no one
+missed me, and as a wind sprang up the captain set sail, and I was
+left alone at the mercy of the waves.
+
+"All night long I floated, and when morning came I was so tired and
+weak that I thought I must die. But just then a great wave lifted me
+up and threw me against the steep side of an island, and to my joy I
+managed to climb the cliff and rest on the green grass above.
+
+"Soon I began to feel better, and as I was very hungry I went to look
+for something to eat. I found some plants which tasted good, and a
+spring of clear water, and having made a good meal, I walked about the
+island to see what I would find next.
+
+"Before long I came to a great meadow where a horse was tied, and as I
+stood looking at it, I heard men's voices which sounded as if they
+came from under the earth. Then from an underground cave a man
+appeared, who asked me who I was and where I came from. He took me
+into the cave where his companions were, and they told me they were
+the grooms belonging to the King of the island, whose horses they
+brought to feed in the meadow. They gave me a good meal, and told me
+it was very lucky that I had come just then, for next day, they meant
+to return to their master, and would show me the way, which I could
+never have found for myself.
+
+"So we set off together early next morning, and when we reached the
+city I was very kindly received by the King. He listened to the story
+of my adventures, and then bade his servants see that I wanted for
+nothing.
+
+"As I was a merchant I took great interest in the shipping, and often
+went down to the quay to see the boats unload. One day when I was
+looking over a cargo which had just been landed, what was my
+astonishment to see a number of bales with my own name marked on them.
+I went at once to the captain and asked him who was the owner of these
+bales of goods.
+
+"'Ah!' replied the captain, 'they belonged to a merchant of Bagdad
+called Sindbad. But he, alas! perished in a dreadful way soon after we
+sailed, for with a number of people belonging to my ship he landed on
+what looked like a green island, but which was really the back of a
+great sleeping whale. As soon as the monster felt the warmth of the
+fire which they had lighted on his back, he woke up and dived below
+the sea. Many of my men were drowned, and among them poor Sindbad. Now
+I mean to sell his goods that I may give the money to his relations
+when I find them.'
+
+"'Captain,' said I, 'these bales are mine, for I am that Sindbad who
+thou sayest was drowned.'
+
+"'What wickedness there is in the world,' cried the captain. 'How
+canst thou pretend to be Sindbad when I saw him drowned before my
+eyes?'
+
+"But presently, when I had told him all that had happened to me, and
+when the other merchants from the ship knew me to be the true Sindbad,
+he was overjoyed, and ordered that the bales should be at once given
+to me.
+
+"Now I was able to give the King a handsome present, and after I had
+traded with my goods for sandal-wood, nutmegs, ginger, pepper and
+cloves, I set sail once more with the kind old captain. On the way
+home I was able to sell all my spices at a good price, so that when I
+landed I found I had a hundred thousand sequins.
+
+"My family were delighted to see me again, and I soon bought some land
+and built a splendid house, in which I meant to live happily and
+forget all the troubles through which I had passed."
+
+Here Sindbad ended the story of his first voyage. He ordered the music
+to strike up and the feast to go on, and when it was over he gave the
+poor porter Hindbad a hundred gold pieces and told him to come back at
+the same time next evening if he wished to hear the tale of the second
+voyage.
+
+Hindbad went joyfully home, and you can imagine how happy the poor
+family were that night.
+
+Next evening he set out once more for Sindbad's house, dressed in his
+best clothes. There he enjoyed a splendid supper as before, and when
+it was over Sindbad said:
+
+"I was very happy for some time at home, but before long I began to
+grow weary of leading an idle life. I longed to be upon the sea again,
+to feel the good ship bounding over the waves, and to hear the wind
+whistling through the rigging.
+
+"So I set to work at once and bought all kinds of goods that I might
+sell again in foreign lands, and then, having found a suitable ship, I
+set sail with other merchants, and so began my second voyage.
+
+"We stopped at many places, and sold our goods at a great profit, and
+all went well until one day when we landed on a new island. It was a
+most beautiful place, fair as the garden of Eden, where exquisite
+flowers made a perfect rainbow of color and delicious fruits hung in
+ripe clusters above.
+
+"Here, under the shadow of the tree, I sat down to rest and to feast
+my eyes upon all the loveliness around. I ate the food I had brought
+with me, drank my wine, and then closed my eyes. The soft music of the
+stream which flowed close by was like a song in my ears, and, before I
+knew what I was doing, I fell asleep.
+
+"I cannot tell how long I slept, but when at last I opened my eyes, I
+could not see my companions anywhere, and when I looked towards the
+sea, to my horror I found the ship was gone. It was sailing away, a
+white speck in the distance, and here was I, left alone upon this
+desert island. I cried aloud and wrung my hands with grief, and wished
+with all my heart that I had stayed safely at home. But what was the
+use of wishing that now?
+
+"So I climbed into a high tree, and looked around to see if I could by
+any means find a way of escape from the island. First I looked towards
+the sea, but there was no hope for me there, and then I turned and
+looked inland. The first thing that caught my eye was a huge white
+dome, that seemed to rise from the center of the island, unlike
+anything I had ever seen before.
+
+"I climbed down the tree, and made my way towards the white dome as
+quickly as I could, but when I reached it, it puzzled me more than
+ever. It was like a great smooth ball, much too slippery to climb, and
+into it there was no door or entrance of any sort. I walked round and
+round it, wondering what it could be, when suddenly a dark shadow fell
+upon everything and it grew black as night.
+
+"I gazed upwards in great fear, and knew that the shadow was cast by a
+great bird with outspread wings hovering over the place where I stood
+and shutting out heaven's light. As I looked, it suddenly came
+swooping down, and sat upon the white dome.
+
+"Then it flashed into my mind that this must be the bird which I had
+heard sailors talk of, called a roc, and the smooth white ball must be
+its egg.
+
+"Quick as thought, I unbound my turban, and twisted it into a rope.
+Then I wound it round and round my waist, and tied the two ends
+tightly round the roc's leg, which was close to where I stood.
+
+"'It will fly away soon, and carry me away with it off this desert
+island,' I said to myself joyfully.
+
+"And sure enough, before very long I felt myself lifted off the
+ground, and carried up and up until it seemed as if we had reached the
+clouds. Then the huge bird began to sink down again, and when it
+reached the ground I quickly untied my turban, and set myself free.
+
+"I was so small, compared to the roc, that it had never even noticed
+me, but darted off towards a great black object lying near, which it
+seized with its beak and carried off. Imagine my horror when I looked
+again and saw other dark objects, and discovered that they were great
+black snakes.
+
+"Here was I, in a deep valley, with mountains rising sheer up on every
+side, and nothing to be seen among the rocks but those terrible black
+snakes.
+
+"'Oh!' I cried, 'why did I ever try to leave the desert island? I have
+indeed only come into worse misfortune.'
+
+"As I looked around, I noticed that the ground was strewn with
+sparkling stones, which seemed to quiver with light, and when I looked
+nearer, I found they were diamonds of extraordinary size, although
+lying about like common pebbles. At first I was delighted, but they
+soon ceased to please me, for I feared each moment I might be seized
+by one of the terrible snakes.
+
+"These snakes were so large that they could easily have swallowed an
+elephant, and although they lay quiet during the day, and hid
+themselves for fear of the roc, at night they came out in search of
+food. I managed to find a cave among the rocks before nightfall, and
+there I sat in fear and trembling until morning, when I once more went
+out into the valley.
+
+"As I sat thinking what I should do next, I saw a great piece of raw
+meat come bounding down into the valley, from rock to rock. Then
+another piece followed, and another, until several large pieces lay at
+my feet.
+
+"Then I remembered a tale which travelers had told me about the famous
+Diamond Valley. They said that every year, when the young eagles were
+hatched, merchants went to the heights above, and rolled down great
+pieces of raw meat into the valley. The diamonds on which the meat
+fell would often stick into the soft flesh, and then when the eagles
+came, and carried off the meat to feed their young ones, the merchants
+would beat them off their nests, and take the diamonds out of the
+meat.
+
+"I had never believed this wonderful tale, but now indeed I knew it to
+be true, and felt sure that I was in the famous Diamond Valley.
+
+"I had quite given up all hope of escape, for there was no possible
+way of climbing out of the valley, but as I watched the eagles carry
+off the lumps of raw meat, I thought of a plan, and hope revived.
+
+"First of all I searched around, and filled all my pockets with the
+biggest diamonds I could find. Then I chose out the largest piece of
+meat and fastened myself securely to it, with the rope made out of my
+turban. I knew that the eagles would soon come for more food, so I lay
+flat on the ground, with the meat uppermost, and holding on tightly, I
+waited for what would happen next. I had not long to wait before a
+gigantic eagle came swooping down. It seized the meat and carried it
+and me swiftly up, until it reached its nest high among the mountain
+rocks. And no sooner had it dropped me into the nest, than a man
+climbed out from behind the rock, and with loud cries frightened the
+eagle away. Then this man, who was the merchant to whom the nest
+belonged, came eagerly to look for his piece of meat. When he saw me,
+he started back in surprise and anger.
+
+"'What doest thou here?' he asked roughly. 'How dost thou dare to try
+and steal my diamonds?'
+
+"'Have patience,' I answered calmly, 'I am no thief, and when thou
+hast heard my story thou wilt pity and not blame me. As for diamonds,
+I have some here which will more than make up to thee for thy
+disappointment.'
+
+"Then I told him and the other merchants all my adventures, and they
+cast up their eyes to heaven in surprise at my courage, and the
+wonderful manner in which I had managed to escape so many dangers.
+Pulling out a handful of diamonds, I then passed the precious stones
+round among them, and they all declared them to be the finest they had
+ever seen.
+
+"'Thou shalt choose one, to make up for thy disappointment,' I said to
+the merchant who had found me.
+
+"'I will choose this small one,' he replied, picking out one of the
+least of the glistening heap.
+
+"I urged him to take a larger one, but he only shook his head.
+
+"'This one will bring me all the wealth I can desire,' he said, 'and I
+need no longer risk my life seeking for more.'
+
+"Then we all set off for the nearest port, where we found a ship ready
+to carry us home. We had many adventures on the way, but at last we
+reached our journey's end, and when I had sold my diamonds, I had so
+much money that I gave a great deal to the poor, and lived in even
+greater splendor than before."
+
+Here Sindbad paused, and ordered that another hundred gold pieces
+should be given to Hindbad, and that he should depart. But next
+evening when the guests had all assembled and Hindbad had also
+returned, Sindbad began once more to tell them a story of his
+adventures.
+
+"This time," began Sindbad, "I stayed at home for the space of a whole
+year, and then I prepared to set out on another voyage. My friends and
+relations did all in their power to prevent my going, but I could not
+be persuaded, and before long I set sail in a ship which was about to
+make a very long voyage.
+
+"Nothing went well with us from the beginning. We were driven out of
+our course by storms and tempests, and the captain and pilot knew not
+where we were. When at last they found out in which direction we had
+drifted, things seemed in a worse state than ever. We were alarmed to
+see the captain suddenly pull off his turban, tear the hair from his
+beard, and beat his head as if he were mad.
+
+"'What is the matter?' we asked, gathering round him.
+
+"'Alas!' he cried, 'we are lost. The ship is now caught in a dangerous
+current from which nothing can save her and us. In a very few moments
+we shall all be dashed to pieces.'
+
+"No sooner had he spoken than the ship was carried along at a
+tremendous speed straight on to a rocky shore which lay at the foot of
+a steep mountain.
+
+"But although the ship was dashed to pieces, we all managed to escape,
+and were thrown with our goods and some provisions high on to the
+rocky strip of shore. Here we found the scattered remains of many
+wrecks, and quantities of bones bleached white in the sun.
+
+"'We may prepare ourselves for death,' said the captain mournfully.
+'No man has ever escaped from this shore, for it is impossible to
+climb the mountain behind us, and no ship dare approach to save us.'
+
+"But nevertheless he divided the provisions among us, that we might
+live as long as possible.
+
+"One thing that surprised me greatly was a river of fresh water which
+flowed out of the mountain, and, instead of running into the sea,
+disappeared into a rocky cavern on the other side of the shore. As I
+gazed into the mouth of this cavern I saw that it was lined with
+sparkling gems, and that the bed of the river was studded with rubies
+and diamonds and all manner of precious stones. Great quantities of
+these were also scattered around, and treasures from the wrecked ships
+lay in every corner of the shore.
+
+"One by one my companions died as they came to the end of their food,
+and one by one I buried them, until at last I was left quite alone. I
+was able to live on very little, and so my food had lasted longer.
+
+"'Woe is me!' I cried, 'who shall bury me when I die? Why, oh! why was
+I not content to remain safe and happy at home?'
+
+"As I bemoaned my evil fate I wandered to the banks of the river, and
+as I watched it disappear into the rocky cave a happy thought came to
+me. Surely if this stream entered the mountain it must have an opening
+somewhere, and if I could only follow its course I might yet escape.
+
+"Eagerly I began to make a strong raft of the wood and planks which
+were scattered all over the shore. Then I collected as many diamonds
+and rubies and as much wrecked treasure as my raft would hold, and
+took my last little store of food. I launched the raft with great
+care, and soon found myself floating swiftly along until I disappeared
+into the dark passage of the cavern.
+
+"On and on I went through the thick darkness, the passage seeming to
+grow smaller and narrower until I was obliged to lie flat on the raft
+for fear of striking my head. My food was now all gone, and I gave
+myself up for lost, and then mercifully I fell into a deep sleep which
+must have lasted many hours. I was awakened by the sound of strange
+voices, and jumping up, what was my joy to find I was once more in
+heaven's sunshine.
+
+"The river was flowing gently through a green, pleasant land, and the
+sounds I had heard were the voices of a company of negroes who were
+gently guiding my raft to the bank.
+
+"I could not understand the language these negroes spoke, until at
+last one of their number began to speak to me in Arabic.
+
+"Peace be to thee!' he said. 'Who art thou, and whence hast thou come?
+We are the people of this country, and were working in our fields when
+we found thee asleep upon the raft. Tell us, then, how thou hast come
+to this place.'
+
+"I pray thee, by Allah." I cried, 'give me food, and then I will tell
+thee all.'
+
+"Then the men gave me food, and I ate until my strength returned and
+my soul was refreshed, and I could tell them of all my adventures.
+
+"'We must take him to the King,' they cried with one voice.
+
+"Then they told me that the King of Serendib was the richest and
+greatest king on earth, and I went with them willingly, taking with me
+my bales and treasures.
+
+"Never had I seen such splendor and richness as at the court of the
+King of Serendib, and great was his kindness towards me. He listened
+to the tale of my adventures with interest, and when I begged to be
+allowed to return home, he ordered that a ship should be made ready at
+once. Then he wrote a letter with his own hand to the Caliph, our
+sovereign lord, and loaded me with costly gifts.
+
+"Thus, when I arrived at Bagdad, I went at once to the court of the
+Caliph, and presented the letter and the gift which the King had sent.
+
+"This gift was a cup made out of a single ruby lined inside with
+precious stones, also a skin of the serpent that swallows elephants,
+which had spots upon its back like pieces of gold, and which could
+cure all illnesses.
+
+"The Caliph was delighted with the letter and the gift.
+
+"'Tell me, O Sindbad,' he said, 'is this King as great and rich as it
+is reported of him?'
+
+"'O my Lord,' I said, 'no words can give you an idea of his riches.
+His throne is set upon a huge elephant and a thousand horsemen ride
+around him, clad in cloth of gold. His mace is of gold studded with
+emeralds, and indeed his splendor is as great as that of King
+Solomon.'
+
+"The Caliph listened attentively to my words, and then, giving me a
+present, he allowed me to depart. I returned home swiftly to my family
+and friends, and when I had sold my treasures and given much to the
+poor, I lived in such peace and happiness that my evil adventures soon
+seemed like a far-off dream."
+
+So Sindbad finished the story, and bade his guests return the next
+evening as usual. And next day, when all the guests were once more
+seated at the table and had finished their feasting, Sindbad began the
+story of his last voyage.
+
+"I had now made up my mind that nothing would tempt me to leave my
+home again, and that I would seek for no more adventures.
+
+"One day, however, as I was feasting with my friends, one of my
+servants came to tell me that a messenger from the Caliph awaited my
+pleasure.
+
+"'What is thy errand?' I asked when the messenger was presented to me.
+
+"'The Caliph desires thy presence at once,' answered the messenger.
+
+"Thus was I obliged to set out immediately for the palace.
+
+"'Sindbad,' said the Caliph, when I had bowed myself to the ground
+before him, 'I have need of thy services. I desire to send a letter
+and a gift to the King of Serendib, and thou shalt be the bearer of
+them.'
+
+"Then indeed did my face fall, and I became pale as death.
+
+"'Commander of the Faithful,' I cried, 'do with me as thou wilt, but I
+have made a vow never to leave my home again.'
+
+"Then I told him all my adventures, which caused him much
+astonishment. Nevertheless, he urged me to do as he wished, and seeing
+that there was no escape, I consented.
+
+"I set sail at the Caliph's command, and after a good voyage I at last
+reached the island of Serendib, where I received a hearty welcome. I
+told the officers of the court what my errand was, and they led me to
+the palace, where I bowed myself to the ground before the great King.
+
+"'Sindbad,' he said kindly, 'thou art welcome. I have often thought of
+thee, and wished to see thy face again.'
+
+"So I presented the Caliph's letter, and the rich present he had sent,
+which pleased the King well. When a few days had passed, I begged to
+be allowed to depart, and after receiving many gifts I once more set
+sail for home.
+
+"But alas! the return journey began badly. We had not sailed many
+days, when we were pursued by pirates, who captured the ship, and took
+prisoners all those who were not killed. I, among others, was carried
+ashore and sold by a pirate to a rich merchant.
+
+"'What is thy trade?' asked the merchant when he had bought me.
+
+"'I am a merchant,' I answered, 'and know no trade.'
+
+"'Canst thou shoot with a bow and arrow?' asked my master.
+
+"This I said I could do, and putting one in my hand he led me out to a
+great forest and bade me climb into a high tree.
+
+"'Watch there,' he said, 'until thou shalt see a herd of elephants
+pass by. Then try to shoot one, and if thou art fortunate, come at
+once and tell me.'
+
+"All night I watched, and saw nothing, but in the morning a great
+number of elephants came thundering by, and I shot several arrows
+among them. One big elephant fell to the ground, and lay there while
+the rest passed on; so, as soon as it was safe, I climbed down and
+carried the news to my master. Together we buried the huge animal and
+marked the place, so that we might return to fetch the tusks.
+
+"I continued this work for some time, and killed many elephants, until
+one night I saw to my horror that the elephants, instead of passing
+on, had surrounded the tree in which I sat, and were stamping and
+trumpeting, until the very earth shook. Then one of them seized the
+tree with his trunk, and tore it up by the roots, laying it flat on
+the ground.
+
+"I was almost senseless with terror, but the next moment I felt myself
+gently lifted up by an elephant's trunk, and placed on his back. I
+clung on with all my might, as the elephant carried me through the
+forest, until at last we came to the slope of a hill, which was
+covered with bleached bones and tusks.
+
+"Here the elephant gently laid me down, and left me alone. I gazed
+around on this great treasure of ivory, and I could not help wondering
+at the wisdom of these animals. They had evidently brought me here to
+show me that I could get ivory without killing any more of their
+number. For this, I felt sure, was the elephants' burying-place.
+
+"I did not stay long on the hill, but gathering a few tusks together I
+sped back to the town, that I might tell my tale to the merchant. 'My
+poor Sindbad,' he cried, when he saw me, I thought thou wert dead, for
+I found the uprooted tree, and never expected to look upon thy face
+again.'
+
+"Great was his delight when I told him of the Hill of Ivory, and when
+we had gone there together, and he saw for himself the wonders I had
+described, he was filled with astonishment.
+
+"'Sindbad,' he cried, 'thou too shalt have a share of this great
+wealth. And first of all I shall give thee thy, freedom. Until now,
+year by year have all my slaves been killed by the elephants, but now
+we need no longer run any risks, for here is ivory enough to enrich
+the whole island.'
+
+"So I was set free, and loaded with honors, and when the trade winds
+brought the ships that traded in ivory, I bade good-by to the island,
+and set sail for home, carrying with me a great cargo of ivory and
+other treasures.
+
+"As soon as I landed I went to the Caliph, who was overjoyed to see
+me.
+
+"'Great has been my anxiety, O Sindbad,' he said, 'for I feared some
+evil had befallen thee.'
+
+"When, therefore, I had told him of my adventures, he was the more
+astonished, and ordered that all my story should be written in letters
+of gold, and placed among his treasures.
+
+"Then I returned to my own house, and ever since have remained at home
+in peace and safety."
+
+Thus Sindbad finished the story of his voyages, and turning to
+Hindbad, he said: "And now, friend Hindbad, what dost thou think of
+the way I have earned my riches? Is it not just that I should live in
+enjoyment and ease?"
+
+"O my lord," cried Hindbad, bowing before Sindbad, and kissing his
+hand, "great have been thy labors and perils, and truly dost thou
+deserve thy riches. My troubles are as nothing compared to thine. Long
+mayest thou live and prosper!"
+
+Sindbad was well pleased with this answer, and he ordered that Hindbad
+should dine every day at his table, and receive his golden pieces, so
+that all his life he might have reason to remember the adventures of
+Sindbad the Sailor.
+
+
+
+
+THE ILIAD OF HOMER
+
+ADAPTED BY JEANIE LANG
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE STORY OF WHAT LED TO THE SIEGE OF TROY
+
+
+In the deep forest that clothes Mount Ida, not far from the strong
+city of Troy, Paris, son of King Priam, watched his father's flocks by
+night.
+
+Suddenly through the dim woods he saw a light, as if the golden sun
+and silver moon shone both together.
+
+And, lo! in the radiance of this light there stood before him the
+three fairest of the godesses--queenly Hera, wise Athene, and lovely
+Aphrodite.
+
+Like music stealing through the trees came the soft voice of Hera:
+
+"Of all mortal men thou art the most beautiful, Paris, and to thee do
+we come for judgment. Tell us which of us is the fairest of all, and
+to that one whom thou so deemest, give this golden apple."
+
+So spake Hera, and placed in the hand of Paris an apple of purest
+gold.
+
+Again she spake: "If to me, Hera, queen of goddesses, and wife of
+mighty Zeus, king of all the gods, thou dost grant the prize of
+loveliness, Power immeasurable shall be thine. King shalt thou be of
+the lands where the gray dawn rises, and king even to where the red
+sun goes down. A hundred peoples shall call thee lord."
+
+She was silent, and the voice of Athene, fair and pure as a silver
+moonbeam, broke the stillness of the starless night.
+
+"To me award the prize," she said, "and wise as the gods shalt thou
+be. With me as thy friend and guide, all things will be possible to
+thee."
+
+Last of all, standing in a rosy light, as of the dawning sunlight in
+the spring, spoke Aphrodite.
+
+"What are Power and Wisdom, fair Paris?" she pled. "Wisdom and Power
+bring no joy at last. I will give thee Love, and for thy wife thou
+shalt have the fairest woman in all the world."
+
+And Paris, the melody of her voice still in his ears, as he gazed
+spellbound on her face of wondrous beauty, handed to Aphrodite the
+golden prize.
+
+So was it that the wrath of the gods came upon Paris, son of Priam.
+For Hera and Athene, filled with rage, vowed to be revenged upon Paris
+and all his race, and made all the gods pledge themselves to aid them
+in their vengeance.
+
+Across far seas sailed Paris, with Aphrodite as his guide, to Sparta,
+where Menelaus was king.
+
+A brave king was Menelaus, and happily he lived in his kingdom with
+Helen, his queen, fairest of all women. One child they had, a little
+maid, Hermione.
+
+When to Sparta there came Paris, with eyes blue as the sea, and hair
+that gleamed like gold on his purple robe, gallant and brave, and more
+beautiful than any mortal man, glad was the welcome that he had from
+Menelaus.
+
+And when Paris gazed on Helen's face, he knew that in all the world
+there was no woman half so fair as the wife of Menelaus.
+
+Then did Aphrodite cast her magic upon Helen.
+
+No longer did she love her husband, nor did she remember little
+Hermione, her own dear child.
+
+When Paris spoke to her words of love, and begged her to flee with
+him, and to be his wife, she knew only that she loved Paris more than
+all else. Gladly she went with him, and in his red-prowed ship
+together they sailed across the green waves to Troyland, where Mount
+Ida showed her snowy crown high above the forests.
+
+An angry man was Menelaus when he found that Paris had stolen from him
+the fair wife who was to him as his own heart.
+
+To his elder brother Agamemnon, overlord of all the Greeks, he went
+and told his grievous tale.
+
+And from far and wide did the Greek hosts gather, until a hundred
+thousand men and eleven hundred fourscore and six ships were ready to
+cross the seas to Troyland.
+
+Many were the heroes who sailed away from Greece to punish Paris and
+his kin, and to bring back fair Helen to her own land.
+
+Few there were who came home, for ten long years of woe and of
+spilling of blood came to the men of Greece and of Troy from the fatal
+beauty of Helen the queen.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE COUNCIL
+
+
+That night both gods and men slept long; only Zeus, king of the gods,
+lay wakeful, pondering in his heart how best he might do honor to
+Achilles. "I shall send a Dream to beguile Agamemnon," at length he
+resolved.
+
+Then did he call to a Dream, for by Dreams the gods sent their
+messages to mortal men.
+
+"Go now, thou evil Dream," said Zeus, "go to where Agamemnon sleeps in
+his tent near to his fleet ships, and tell him every word as I shall
+tell it thee. Bid him call to arms with speed his warriors, for now he
+shall take the strong city of Troy."
+
+To the tent of Agamemnon sped the Dream. Taking the form of the old
+warrior who had striven to make peace between Agamemnon and Achilles,
+the Dream stooped over the sleeping warrior, and thus to him it spoke:
+
+"Sleepest thou, Agamemnon? Ill fits it for the overlord of so mighty a
+host to sleep all through the night. From Zeus I come, and to thee he
+sends this message: 'Call to arms with speed thy warriors, Agamemnon,
+for now shalt thou take the strong city of Troy.'"
+
+Off then sped the Dream, winging its way like a strip of gray mist
+aloft to Mount Olympus.
+
+Then Agamemnon awoke from sleep, and the voice of the Dream still rang
+in his ears.
+
+Speedily he arose from his bed, donned his fair tunic, cast around him
+his great cloak, and bound his sandals on his feet. Then over his
+shoulder he cast his silver-studded sword, and with the scepter of his
+house, token of his overlordship, in his hand, he went down to where
+the Greek ships lay, and called a council together.
+
+To his lords he told what had befallen him as they slept.
+
+"Call to arms!" had been the message from Zeus. "Call to arms! for
+victory shall be thine."
+
+Then said the old warrior in whose likeness the Dream had come:
+
+"My friends, had any other told us this dream we might deem it false;
+but to our overlord the Dream hath come. Let us then call our men to
+arms."
+
+So did all the lords follow his counsel, and quickly did the Greeks
+obey their summons. Like bees that pour from out their nests in some
+hollow rock, and fly to where the spring flowers grow most sweet, even
+so did the warriors pour forth from their ships and their huts by the
+sea. Loudly they shouted as they came, till all the earth echoed. Nine
+heralds sought to quiet them, but it was long before they would cease
+their noise, and sit silent to listen to the voice of Agamemnon their
+lord.
+
+Then did Agamemnon prove his people. "Ill hath Zeus dealt with us, my
+friends," he said. "To us he promised ere we sailed hither that
+victory should be ours. But nine years have passed away, and our
+ships' timbers have rotted, and the rigging is worn. In our halls our
+wives and children still sit awaiting us, yet are we no nearer victory
+than we were on the day that we came hither. Come then, let us flee
+with our ships to our dear native land, for never shall Troy be ours."
+
+So spake Agamemnon, and stirred the hearts of all that had not heard
+his secret council.
+
+As the high sea-waves are swayed by the winds that rush upon them from
+the east and from the south, even so the Greek host was swayed. And
+even as the west wind sweeps over a cornfield and all the ears bow
+down before the blast, so were the warriors stirred.
+
+Shouting, they hastened down to their ships. And the dust rose up in
+clouds from under their hurrying feet.
+
+Quickly did they prepare their ships, and gladly did they make them
+ready to sail homeward across the bright salt sea.
+
+Then would the Greeks have returned, even though fate willed it not.
+But Hera spoke to Athene.
+
+"Shall we indeed allow the Greeks thus to flee homeward?" she cried.
+"Shame it will be to us if Helen is left, in Troy, and Paris goes
+unpunished. Haste, then, and with thy gentle words hold back the men
+from setting forth in their ships for their own homeland."
+
+Down from the peaks of Olympus darted the bright-eyed Athene, clown to
+where the dark ships were being dragged to the launching ways.
+
+By his ship stood Odysseus of the many devices, and heavy of heart was
+he.
+
+As one who speaks aloud the thoughts of another, so then to Odysseus
+spake the fair goddess who was ever his guide.
+
+"Will ye indeed fling yourselves upon your ships and flee homeward to
+your own land?" she said. "Will brave Odysseus leave Helen, for whose
+sake so many Greeks have died, to be the boast of the men of Troy?
+Hasten, then, and suffer not the Greeks to drag their ships down to
+the sea."
+
+At the sound of the voice of Athene, Odysseus cast away his mantle and
+ran to meet Agamemnon. From him he received the scepter of
+overlordship, and bearing it he went among the ships.
+
+Whenever he saw a chief, he would say to him with gentle words:
+
+"Good sir, it fits thee ill to be a coward. Stay, now, for thou
+knowest not what is the will of Agamemnon. He is only making trial of
+thee. Hold back then thy people, and anger him not."
+
+But when Odysseus met a common man hasting to the ships, with his
+scepter he smote him, saying:
+
+"Sit still, sir, and listen to the words of thy betters. No warrior
+art thou, but a weakling. One king only hath Zeus given to us. Hearken
+then to the will of Agamemnon!"
+
+Thus did Odysseus rule the people, driving them back from the ships to
+where sat Agamemnon.
+
+And the noise they made in returning was as the noise of mighty waves
+of the sea, when they crash upon the beach and drive their roaring
+echoes far abroad.
+
+Silence came upon them as they sat themselves down before Agamemnon
+and their lords. Upon all but one did silence fall. Thersites,
+bandy-legged, round-shouldered, lame of one foot, with ugly head
+covered with scanty stubble, most ill-favored of all men in the host,
+would not hold his peace.
+
+Shrilly he poured his upbraidings upon Agamemnon.
+
+"What lackest thou now?" he cried. "Surely thy huts are full of the
+spoils we have brought to thee each time we have taken a town. What
+more dost thou want? Soft fools, women, not men, are ye Greeks, else
+would ye return home now with the ships, and leave this fellow here in
+Troyland gorging himself on the spoils for which he himself hath never
+fought. To brave Achilles hath he done dishonor, a far better man than
+he!"
+
+Straight to the side of Thersites came the goodly Odysseus.
+
+"Hold thy peace," he sternly said. "Plainly I tell thee that if ever
+again I find thee raving as thou hast raved now, I myself will strip
+off thy mantle and tunic, with shameful blows beat thee out of the
+assembly, and send thee back weeping to the ships."
+
+So spake Odysseus, and with his scepter smote Thersites on his back
+and shoulders. And Thersites bowed down, and big tears fell from his
+eyes, and a bloody weal from the golden scepter stood up from his
+back. Amazed he sat down, and in pain and amazement he wiped away a
+tear. The others, though they were sorry, laughed at his bewilderment.
+
+"Many are the good deeds of Odysseus," said they, "but never did he do
+a better deed than when he stopped the tongue of this prating railer."
+
+Then spake Odysseus, scepter in hand.
+
+"Surely it is the wish of the Greeks to make thee the most despised of
+all kings, great Agamemnon," he said, "for like young children or
+mourning women do they wail that they must go home. Nine years have
+we stayed in this land, and small wonder is it that we long for our
+homes again. Yet shameful would it be to wait so long and to return
+with empty hands. Be of good heart, my friends, and wait a little, for
+surely Troy shall be ours. Do ye forget, on the day that we set sail
+for Troyland, the mighty portent that we saw? As we offered sacrifices
+to the gods beneath a fair plane-tree whence flowed clear water, a
+snake, blood-red on the back and dreadful to look upon, glided from
+beneath the altar and darted to the tree. On the tree's topmost bough
+was a sparrow's nest, and in it eight tender nestlings, over which the
+mother bird spread her wings. Pitifully did the little ones cheep as
+the snake swallowed them all, and pitifully cried the mother as she
+fluttered over her nestlings. But of her, too, did the snake lay hold,
+coiling himself round her and crushing her life out. Then did the god
+who sent this sign show us that a sign from the gods in truth it was,
+for he turned the snake into stone. And Chalcas, our soothsayer, told
+us then the meaning of the sign. 'Nine years,' said he--for nine birds
+did the snake slay--'shall ye fight in Troyland, but in the tenth year
+the city shall fall before you.' So then, let us abide here, until we
+have taken the great city!"
+
+When Odysseus had ceased to speak, the Greeks shouted aloud, until the
+ships echoed the praises of the goodly Odysseus.
+
+Then said Agamemnon:
+
+"Go now, all of you, and eat, that ye may be ready for battle. Let
+each man sharpen well his spear and see to his shield, and see to it
+that the horses are well fed and the chariots prepared. And whomsoever
+I see minded to stay far away from the fight, beside the ships here by
+the sea, for him shall there be no hope hereafter, but he shall be
+food for dogs and for birds of prey."
+
+And when Agamemnon had spoken, the shouts of the Greeks were as the
+thunder of mighty breakers on a reef when the winds blow high.
+
+Quickly then they scattered, and kindled fires, and made their evening
+meal, and offered sacrifices to the gods, praying for escape from
+death in the coming battle.
+
+To Zeus did Agamemnon offer his sacrifice and to the mighty god he
+prayed:
+
+"Great Zeus, god of the storm-cloud, let not the sun set nor the
+darkness fall until I have laid low the palaces of Troy and burned
+down its walls with fire."
+
+So he prayed, but as yet Zeus heeded not his prayer. Then did the
+Greeks gather themselves together to battle, and among them went the
+bright-eyed Athene, urging on each one, and rousing in each man's
+heart the joy of strength and of battle.
+
+As the red and golden blaze of a fire that devours a mighty forest is
+seen from afar, so was seen from afar the dazzling gleam of their
+bronze armor as they marched.
+
+Like wild geese and cranes and swans that in long-drawn strings fly
+tirelessly onward, so poured they forth, while the earth echoed
+terribly under the tread of men and horses.
+
+As flies that swarm in the spring when the herdsmen's milk-pails are
+full, so did the Greeks throng to battle, unnumbered as the leaves and
+the flowers upon which they trod in the flowery plain by the banks of
+the river Scamander.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS
+
+
+To meet the great Greek host came the men of Troy. With loud shouting
+and clamor they came, noisy as the flocks of cranes that fly to
+far-off seas before the coming of winter and sudden rain.
+
+But in silence marched the Greeks, shoulder to shoulder, their hearts
+full of courage.
+
+Like the mist that rolls from the crest of the mountains until no man
+can see in front of him further than the cast of a stone, so did the
+dust rise in clouds under the tread of the warriors' feet as they
+marched across the plain.
+
+Front to front did the two armies stand at last, and from the Trojan
+ranks strode forth Paris the godlike, he who robbed Menelaus of her
+who was to him most dear.
+
+From the shoulders of Paris swung a panther's skin. He bore a curved
+bow and sword, and, brandishing two bronze-headed spears, he
+challenged all the chieftains of the Greek host to fight him, man to
+man, in mortal fight.
+
+As a hungry lion rejoices to see a great-horned stag coming to be his
+prey, even so did Menelaus rejoice when he saw Paris, the
+golden-haired and blue-eyed, stride proudly forth.
+
+Straightway, in his armor, did Menelaus leap from his chariot to the
+ground.
+
+But when Paris saw him to whom he had done so sore a wrong, his heart
+was smitten.
+
+As a man who, in a mountain glen, suddenly sees a deadly snake and
+shrinks away from it with shaking limbs, even so did Paris shrink back
+among his comrades.
+
+Scornfully did Hector his brother behold him.
+
+"Fair in face thou art!" said Hector, "but shamed I am by thee! I ween
+these long-haired Greeks make sport of us because we have for champion
+one whose face and form are beautiful, but in whose heart is neither
+strength nor courage. Art thou a coward? and yet thou daredst to sail
+across the sea and steal from her husband the fair woman who hath
+brought us so much harm. Thou shalt see what sort of warrior is he
+whose lovely wife thou hast taken. Thy harp and thy golden locks and
+fair face, and all the graces given to thee by Aphrodite, shall count
+for little when thou liest in the dust! Cowards must we Trojans be,
+else thou hadst been stoned to death ere this, for all the evil thou
+hast wrought."
+
+Then answered Paris:
+
+"No word hast thou said that I do not deserve, brave Hector. Yet scorn
+not the gifts of golden Aphrodite, for by his own desire can no man
+win the love and beauty that the goddess gives. But let me now do
+battle with Menelaus. Make the Trojans and the men of Greece sit down,
+while Menelaus and I fight for Helen. Let him who is conqueror have
+her and all that is hers for his own, and let the others take an oath
+of friendship so that the Greeks may depart in peace to their own
+land, and in peace the Trojans dwell in Troy."
+
+Greatly did Hector rejoice at his brother's word. His spear grasped
+by the middle, he went through the Trojan ranks and bid the warriors
+hold back.
+
+But as he went, the Greeks shot arrows at brave Hector and cast
+stones.
+
+"Hold! hold! ye Greeks," called Agamemnon. "Hector of the glancing
+helm hath somewhat to say to us."
+
+In silence, then, the two armies stood, while Hector told them the
+words of Paris his brother.
+
+When they had heard him, Menelaus spoke:
+
+"Many ills have ye endured," he said, "for my sake and because of the
+sins of Paris. Yet now, I think, the end of this long war hath come.
+Let us fight, then, and death and fate shall decide which of us shall
+die. Let us offer sacrifice now to Zeus, and call hither Priam, King
+of Troy. I fear for the faith of his sons, Paris and Hector, but Priam
+is an old man and will not break faith."
+
+Then were the Greeks and the Trojans glad. They came down from their
+chariots, and took off their arms, and laid them on the ground, while
+heralds went to tell Priam and to fetch lambs and a ram for the
+sacrifice.
+
+While they went, Hera sent to Troy Iris, her messenger, in the guise
+of the fairest daughter of Priam.
+
+To the hall where Helen sat came lovely Iris. And there she found
+Helen, fairest of women, her white arms swiftly moving back and
+forward as she wove a great purple web of double wool, and wrought
+thereon pictures of many battles of the Greeks and the men of Troy.
+
+"Come hither, dear lady," said Iris, "and see a wondrous thing. For
+they that so fiercely fought with each other, now sit in silence. The
+battle is stayed; they lean upon their shields, and their tall spears
+are thrust in the earth by their sides. But for thee are Menelaus and
+Paris now going to fight, and thou shalt be the wife of the
+conqueror."
+
+So spake lovely Iris, and into the sleeping heart of Helen there came
+remembrance, and a hungry longing for her old home, and for Menelaus,
+and her father and mother, and for little Hermione, her child.
+
+The tears rolled down her cheeks, but quickly she hid her face with a
+veil of fair linen, and hastened out, with her two handmaidens, to the
+place where the two armies lay.
+
+At the Scaean gates sat Priam and other old warriors.
+
+As Helen, in her fair white robes, drew near, the old men marveled at
+her loveliness.
+
+"Small wonder is it," said they, "that Trojans and Greeks should
+suffer hardships and lay down their lives for one so beautiful. Yet
+well would it be for her to sail away upon the Greek ships rather than
+stay here to bring trouble upon us now, and upon our children
+hereafter."
+
+Then Priam called to Helen:
+
+"Come hither, dear child, and sit beside me, that thou may'st see the
+man who once was thy husband, and thy kinsmen, and thy friends. No
+blame do I give to thee for all our woes, but only to the gods who
+have chosen thee to be the cause of all this bloodshed."
+
+Then did Priam ask her the names of the mighty heroes who stood by
+their spears in the Grecian ranks, and Helen, making answer to him,
+said:
+
+"Dear father of Paris, my lord, would that I had died ere I left my
+own land and my little child, and all those that I loved, and followed
+thy son hither. Agamemnon, a goodly king and a mighty spearsman, is
+the Greek warrior whose name thou dost ask. Brother of him who was my
+husband is he. Ah! shameless me, who did leave mine own."
+
+Of Odysseus also, and of many another warrior of great stature and
+brave looks, did Priam make inquiry. And Helen told him all she knew,
+while tears of longing stood in her eyes.
+
+"My two brethren, Castor, tamer of horses, and Polydeuces, the skilful
+boxer, I do not see," she said; "mayhap they have not crossed the
+sea." For she knew not that her two brothers lay dead in her own
+beautiful land.
+
+Then was the sacrifice to Zeus offered, and the vows made between
+Agamemnon and Priam, King of Troy.
+
+When the sacrifice and vows were accomplished, Priam in haste mounted
+his chariot and drove away.
+
+"Verily will I return to windy Ilios," said the old man, "for I cannot
+bear to watch the fight between Menelaus and my own dear son. But
+only Zeus and the gods know which one of them is to fall."
+
+Then Hector and Odysseus marked out a space for the fight, and into a
+bronze helmet Hector placed two pebbles and shook them in the helmet,
+looking behind him. And the pebble of Paris leapt out the first, so
+that to him fell the lot to cast first his spear of bronze.
+
+Then did Paris arm himself. Greaves of beauteous fashioning he placed
+upon his legs, and fastened them with silver ankle-clasps. Over his
+shoulders he put his silver-studded sword of bronze and his great
+shield. On his head he placed a helmet with nodding crest of
+horsehair, and in his hand he grasped his strong spear. In like manner
+did Menelaus arm himself.
+
+One moment did they stand face to face, wrath and hatred in their
+hearts, their spears gripped firm in their hands.
+
+Then did Paris hurl his spear and smite the shield of Menelaus. But
+the shield was strong and the spear could not pierce it.
+
+His hand lifted up for the cast, Menelaus looked upwards and called to
+Zeus.
+
+"Grant me revenge, great Zeus!" he cried. "On him that hath done me
+grievous wrong, grant me vengeance, so that all men hereafter may
+shudder to wrong one who hath treated him as his honored guest."
+
+Then hurled he his mighty spear. Through the bright shield it went,
+and through the shining breastplate, tearing the tunic of Paris on his
+thigh. But Paris swerved aside, and so escaped death.
+
+Then Menelaus drew his silver-studded sword and drove it crashing down
+upon the helmet of Paris. But in four pieces was the sword shattered,
+and fell from the hand of Menelaus.
+
+"Surely art thou the most cruel of all the gods, Zeus!" angrily he
+cried. "My spear is cast in vain, and my sword shattered, and my
+vengeance is still to come!"
+
+So saying, he leapt upon Paris. By the crest on his helmet he seized
+him, and, swinging him round, he dragged him towards the Greek host.
+The embroidered strap beneath the helmet of Paris strangled him, and
+so he would have shamefully died, had not Aphrodite marked his plight.
+Swiftly did she burst the leather strap, and the helmet was left
+empty in the grasp of Menelaus.
+
+Casting the empty helmet, with a swing, to his comrades, Menelaus
+sprang back, ready, with another spear, to slay his enemy.
+
+But Aphrodite snatched Paris up, and in thick mist she hid him, and
+bore him away to his own home. Like a wild beast Menelaus strode
+through the host, searching for him. But no Trojan would have hidden
+him, for with a bitter hatred did the men of Troy hate Paris, most
+beautiful of mortal men.
+
+Then said Agamemnon:
+
+"Hearken to me, ye Trojans. Now hath Menelaus gained the victory. Give
+us back Helen, and all that is hers, and pay me the recompense that ye
+owe me for all the evil days that are gone."
+
+So spake he, and glad were the shouts of the Greeks as they heard the
+words of their king.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE
+
+
+From where the battle still raged went Hector, son of Priam. At the
+oak-tree by the gates of Troy there came running to meet him wives and
+daughters of those who fought. For eagerly did they long for tidings
+of many a warrior who now lay dead on the field.
+
+When he reached the beautiful, many-pillared palace of his father, his
+mother came to meet him.
+
+His hand she took in hers, and gently spoke she to him.
+
+"Art thou wearied that thou hast left the battle, Hector, my son?" she
+said. "Let me bring thee wine that thou may'st be refreshed and yet
+gain strength."
+
+"Bring me no wine, dear mother," said Hector, "lest it take from me
+the strength and courage that I have. Rather go thou to the temple of
+Athene and offer her sacrifices, beseeching that she will have mercy
+on Troy and on the wives of the Trojans and their little children. So
+may she hold back Diomedes the destroyer. I go to Paris--would that he
+were dead!"
+
+And the mother of Hector straightway, with other old women, the
+mothers of heroes, offered sacrifices and prayers to Athene. But
+Athene paid no heed.
+
+To the palace of Paris, his mighty bronze spear in his hand, then
+strode Hector.
+
+Paris, the golden-haired, sat in a room with Helen, idly handling his
+shining shield and breastplate and curved bow.
+
+In bitter scorn spoke Hector to his brother.
+
+"Our people die in battle for thy sake!" he cried, "while here thou
+sittest idle. Up then, ere the enemies that thou hast made for us burn
+our city to the ground!"
+
+And Paris answered:
+
+"Justly dost thou chide me, Hector. Even now hath Helen urged me to
+play the man and go back to battle. Only let me put on my armor, and
+soon will I overtake thee."
+
+Never a word did Hector answer him.
+
+But to Hector did Helen then speak:
+
+"Brother Hector," she said, "unworthy am I to be sister of thine.
+Would that I had died on the day I was born, or would that the gods
+who have brought me this evil had given me for a husband one who was
+shamed by reproach and who feared dishonor. Rest thee here, my
+brother, who hast suffered so much for the sake of wretched me and for
+the sin of Paris. Well I know that for us cometh punishment of which
+men will sing in the far-off years that are yet to come."
+
+"Of thy love, ask me not to stay, Helen," answered Hector. "For to
+help the men of Troy is my whole heart set, and they are now in want
+of me. But rouse this fellow, and make him hasten after me. I go now
+to see my dear wife and my babe, for I know not whether I shall return
+to them again."
+
+In his own house Hector found not his fair wife Andromache, nor their
+little babe.
+
+"Whither went thy mistress?" he asked in eagerness of the
+serving-women.
+
+"Truly, my lord," answered one, "tidings came to us that the Trojans
+were sorely pressed and that with the Greeks was the victory. So then
+did Andromache, like one frenzied, hasten with her child and his nurse
+to the walls that she might see somewhat of what befell. There, on the
+tower, she stands now, weeping and wailing."
+
+Back through the streets by which he had come then hastened Hector.
+And as he drew near the gates, Andromache, who had spied him from
+afar, ran to meet him.
+
+As, hand clasped in hand, Andromache and Hector stood, Hector looked
+silently at the beautiful babe in his nurse's arms, and smiled.
+
+Astyanax, "The City King," those of Troy called the child, because it
+was Hector his father who saved the city.
+
+Then said Andromache:
+
+"Dear lord, thy courage will bring thee death. Hast thou no pity for
+this babe nor for thy wife, who so soon shall be thy widow? Better
+would it be for me to die if to thee death should come. For if I lose
+thee, then sorrow must for evermore be mine. No father nor mother have
+I, and on one day were my seven brothers slain. Father and mother and
+brother art thou to me, Hector, and my dear loved husband as well.
+Have pity now, and stay with thy wife and thy little child."
+
+"All these things know I well, my wife," answered Hector, "but black
+shame would be mine were I to shrink like a coward from battle. Ever
+it hath been mine to be where the fight was fiercest, and to win glory
+for my father's name, and for my own. But soon will that glory be
+gone, for my heart doth tell me that Troy must fall. Yet for the
+sorrows of the Trojans, and of my own father and mother and brethren,
+and of the many heroes that must perish, grieve I less bitterly than
+for the anguish that must come upon thee on that day when thou no
+longer hast a husband to fight for thee and a Greek leads thee away a
+prisoner. May the earth be heaped up high above me ere I hear thy
+crying, Andromache!"
+
+So spake Hector, and stretched out his arms to take his boy.
+
+But from his father's bronze helmet with its fiercely nodding plume of
+horsehair the babe shrank back in terror and hid his face in his
+nurse's breast. Then did the little City King's father and his sweet
+mother laugh aloud, and on the ground Hector laid his helmet, and
+taking his little son in his arms he kissed him and gently dandled
+him. And as he did so, thus Hector prayed to Zeus and all the gods:
+
+"O Zeus and all ye gods, grant that my son may be a brave warrior and
+a great king in Troyland. Let men say of him when he returns from
+battle, 'Far greater is he than his father,' and may he gladden his
+mother's heart."
+
+Then did Hector lay his babe in Andromache's arms, and she held him to
+her bosom, smiling through her tears.
+
+Full of love and pity and tenderness was the heart of Hector, and
+gently he caressed her and said:
+
+"Dear one, I pray thee be not of over-sorrowful heart. No man shall
+slay me ere the time appointed for my death hath come. Go home and
+busy thyself with loom and distaff and see to the work of thy maidens.
+But war is for us men, and of all those who dwell in Troyland, most of
+all for me."
+
+So spake Hector, and on his head again he placed his crested helmet.
+And his wife went home, many times looking back to watch him she loved
+going forth to battle, with her eyes half blinded by her tears.
+
+Not far behind Hector followed Paris, his armor glittering like the
+sun, and with a laugh on the face that was more full of beauty than
+that of any other man on earth. Like a noble charger that has broken
+its bonds and gallops exultingly across the plain, so did Paris stride
+onward.
+
+"I fear I have delayed thee," he said to his brother when he overtook
+him.
+
+"No man can speak lightly of thy courage," answered Hector, "only thou
+hast brought shame on thyself by holding back from battle. But now let
+us go forward, and may the gods give the Greeks into our hands."
+
+So went Hector and Paris together into battle, and many a Greek fell
+before them on that day.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+HOW PATROCLUS FOUGHT AND DIED
+
+
+While round the dark ships of Greece the fierce fight raged, Achilles,
+from afar, listened unmoved to the din of battle, and watched with
+stony eyes the men of Greece as they fell and died on the reddened
+ground.
+
+To him came Patroclus.
+
+"Why dost thou weep, Patroclus?" asked Achilles. "Like a fond little
+maid art thou that runs by her mother's side, plucking at her gown,
+hindering her as she walks, and with tearful eyes looking up at her
+until the mother lifts her in her arms. Like her, Patroclus, dost thou
+softly weep."
+
+Then Patroclus, heavily groaning, made answer:
+
+"Among the ships lie the bravest and best of the men of Greece, sore
+wounded or dead. Pitiless art thou, Achilles, pitiless and
+unforgiving. Yet if thou dost still hold back from the battle, give
+me, I pray thee, thine armor, and send me forth in thy stead.
+Perchance the Trojans may take me for the mighty Achilles, and even
+now the victory be ours."
+
+Then said Achilles, and heavy was his heart within him:
+
+"These Greeks took from me my well-won prize, Patroclus. Yet let the
+past be past; no man may keep his anger for ever. I have said that
+until the men of Troy come to burn my own ships I will hold me back
+from the battle. But take you my armor; lead my men in the fight, and
+drive from the ships the men of Troy. But to others leave it to chase
+them across the plain."
+
+Even as Achilles spoke, the strength of mighty Ajax had come to an
+end, and with furious rush did the Trojans board the ships. In their
+hands they bore blazing torches, and up to the sky rushed the fiercely
+roaring flames.
+
+Then cried Achilles, smiting his thighs:
+
+"Haste thee, Patroclus! They burn the ships! Arm thyself speedily, and
+I will call my men!"
+
+Corslet and shield and helmet did Patroclus swiftly don, and girded on
+the silver-studded sword and took two strong lances in his hand.
+
+In the chariot of Achilles he mounted, and Automedon, best and bravest
+of charioteers, took the reins.
+
+Swift as the wild west wind were Bayard and Piebald, the two horses of
+Achilles, and in the side harness was Pedasus, a horse only less swift
+than they.
+
+Gladly did the men of Achilles meet his call to arms, for fierce as
+wolves were they.
+
+"Many times hast thou blamed me," cried Achilles, "because in my
+wrath I kept ye back from battle. Here for ye now is a mighty fight,
+such as ye love."
+
+To battle they went, and while Patroclus led them forth, Achilles in
+his tent offered up an offering to Zeus.
+
+Like wasps that pour forth from their nests by the wayside to sting
+the boys who have stoned them, so now did the Greeks swarm from their
+ships.
+
+Before the sword of Patroclus fell a mighty warrior, and when the men
+of Troy saw the shining armor of Achilles in his own chariot their
+hearts sank within them.
+
+Out of the ships were they driven, the fire was quenched, and back to
+the trench rolled the tide of battle. In the trench writhed many a
+horse and many a man in dying agonies. But clear across it leaped the
+horses of Achilles, and close to the walls of Troy did Patroclus drive
+brave Hector before him.
+
+His chariot then he turned, and headed off the fleeing Trojans,
+driving them down to the ships. Before the furious rush of his swift
+steeds, other horses were borne off their feet, other chariots cast in
+ruins on the ground, and men crushed to death under his wheels. Chief
+after chief did Patroclus slay. A mighty destroyer was he that day.
+
+One only of the chiefs of Troy kept his courage before the destroyer
+who wore the shining arms of Achilles.
+
+"Shame on ye!" cried Sarpedon to his men, "whither do ye flee? I
+myself will fight this man who deals death and destruction to the
+Trojan host."
+
+From their chariots leaped Sarpedon and Patroclus.
+
+With the first cast of his spear Patroelus missed Sarpedon, but slew
+his charioteer. Then did Sarpedon cast, and his spear whizzed past
+Patroclus, and smote the good horse Pedasus. With a dreadful scream
+Pedasus fell, kicking and struggling, in the dust. This way and that
+did the other two horses plunge and rear, until the yoke creaked and
+the reins became entangled. But the charioteer leaped down, with his
+sword slashed clear the traces from Pedasus, and the horses righted
+themselves.
+
+Once again did Sarpedon cast his spear, and the point flew over the
+left shoulder of Patroclus. But Patroclus missed not. Through the
+heart of Sarpedon sped the fiercely hurled spear, and like a slim tree
+before the axe of the wood-cutter he fell, his dying hands clutching
+at the bloody dust.
+
+Furious was the combat then over the body of Sarpedon. One brave
+warrior after another did Patroclus lay dead.
+
+And more terrible still was the fight because in the ranks of the men
+of Troy there fought now, in all-devouring wrath, the god Apollo.
+
+Nine men, good warriors all, did Patroclus slay; then, waxing bolder,
+he tried to climb the very walls of Troy.
+
+Three times did Apollo thrust him back, and when, a fourth time, he
+attacked, the god cried aloud to him in anger, warning him not to dare
+so much.
+
+Against Patroclus did Hector then drive his war-horses, but Patroclus,
+leaping from his chariot, hurled at Hector a jagged stone. In the eyes
+it smote the charioteer of Hector, and the slain man dropped to the
+ground.
+
+"How nimble a man is this!" jeered Patroclus. "How lightly he diveth!
+Were this the sea, how good an oyster-seeker would this fellow be!"
+
+Then from his chariot leaped Hector and met Patroclus, and the noise
+of the battle was as the noise of a mighty gale in the forest when
+great trees fall crashing to the ground.
+
+When the sun went down, victory was with the Greeks. Three mighty
+charges did Patroclus make, and each time he slew nine men. But when,
+a fourth time, he charged, Apollo met him. In thick mist he met him,
+and Patroclus knew not that he fought with a god. With a fierce
+down-stroke from behind, Apollo smote his broad shoulders, and from
+off his head the helmet of Achilles fell with a clang, rattling under
+the hoofs of the horses. Before the smiting of the god, Patroclus
+stood stricken, stupid and amazed. Shattered in his hands was the
+spear of Achilles, and his mighty shield clanged on the ground.
+
+Ere he could know who was the smiter, a Trojan ally drove a spear
+between his shoulders, and Patroclus, sore wounded, fell back.
+
+Marking his dismay, Hector pressed forward, and clean through his
+body drove his bronze spear. With a crash Patroclus fell.
+
+"Thou that didst boast that thou wouldst sack my town, here shall
+vultures devour thee!" cried Hector.
+
+And in a faint voice Patroclus made answer:
+
+"Not to thee do I owe my doom, great Hector. Twenty such as thou would
+I have fought and conquered, but the gods have slain me. Yet verily I
+tell thee that thou thyself hast not long to live. Even now doth Death
+stand beside thee!"
+
+As he spoke, the shadow of Death fell upon Patroclus. No more in his
+ears roared the din of battle; still and silent for ever he lay.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE ROUSING OF ACHILLES
+
+
+Fierce had been the fight before Patroclus died. More fiercely yet it
+raged when he lay dead.
+
+From his body did Hector take the arms of Achilles, and the dead
+Patroclus would the Trojans fain have dragged to their city, there to
+bring shame to him and to all the Greek host.
+
+But for him fought the Greeks, until the earth was wet with blood and
+the very skies echoed the clang of battle.
+
+To Achilles came Antilochos, a messenger fleet of foot.
+
+"Fallen is Patroclus!" he cried, "and around his naked body do they
+fight, for his armor is held by Hector."
+
+Then did Achilles moan aloud. On the ground he lay, and in his hair he
+poured black ashes. And the sound of his terrible lament was heard by
+his mother, Thetis, the goddess, as she sat in her palace down under
+the depths of the green sea.
+
+Up from under the waves swiftly came she to Achilles, and tenderly did
+she listen while he poured forth to her the tale of the death of his
+dear comrade.
+
+Then said Thetis:
+
+"Not long, methinks, shall Hector glory in the armor that was thine,
+for Death presseth hard upon him. Go not forth to battle, my son,
+until I return, bearing with me new and fair armor for thee."
+
+But when Thetis had departed, to Achilles in his sorrow came Iris,
+fair messenger of the gods.
+
+"Unto windy Ilios will the Trojans drag the body of Patroclus unless
+thou comest now. Thou needst not fight, Achilles, only show thyself to
+the men of Troy, for sore is the need of Patroclus thy friend."
+
+Then, all unarmed, did Achilles go forth, and stood beside the trench.
+With a mighty voice he shouted, and at the sound of his voice terror
+fell upon the Trojans. Backward in flight they went, and from among
+the dead did the Greeks draw the body of Patroclus, and hot were the
+tears that Achilles shed for the friend whom he had sent forth to
+battle.
+
+All that night, in the house of the Immortals, resounded the clang of
+hammer on anvil as Hephaistus, the lame god, fashioned new arms for
+Achilles.
+
+Bronze and silver and gold he threw in his fire, and golden
+handmaidens helped their master to wield the great bellows, and to
+send on the crucibles blasts that made the ruddy flames dance.
+
+No fairer shield was ever borne by man than that which Hephaistus made
+for Achilles. For him also he wrought a corslet brighter than a flame
+of fire, and a helmet with a golden crest.
+
+And in the morning light did Thetis dart down from snowy Olympus,
+bearing in her arms the splendid gift of a god.
+
+Glad was Achilles as he put on the armor, and terrible was his war-cry
+as he roused the Greek warriors. No man, however sore his wounds, held
+back when the voice of Achilles called him to the fight once again.
+Wounded was Agamemnon, overlord of the Greeks, but forth also came he.
+And there, while the sun rose on many a warrior who would fight no
+more, did Achilles and Agamemnon speak as friends once again, their
+long strife ended.
+
+Hungry for war, with Achilles as their leader, did the Greeks then
+meet the Trojans on the plain. And as a fierce fire rages through the
+forest, its flames driven by the wind, so did Achilles in his wrath
+drive through the host of Troy.
+
+Down to the Scamander he drove the fleeing Trojans, and the water
+reddened with blood, as he smote and spared not.
+
+Merciless was Achilles; pitilessly did he exult as one brave man after
+another was sent by him to dye red the swift flood of the Scamander.
+
+At length, at his lack of mercy, did even the river grow wrathful.
+
+"Choked is my stream with dead men!" it cried, "and still thou
+slayest!"
+
+But when Achilles heeded not, in fierce flood the river up-rose
+against him, sweeping the slain before it, and in furious spate
+seeking to destroy Achilles. But as its waves smote against his
+shield, Achilles grasped a tall elm, and uprooting it, cast it into
+the river to dam the torrent. For the moment only was the angry river
+stayed. In fear did Achilles flee across the plain, but with a mighty
+roar it pursued him, and caught him.
+
+To the gods then cried Achilles, and to his aid came Athene, and close
+to the walls of Troy again did Achilles chase the Trojan men.
+
+From the city walls old Priam saw the dreadful things Achilles
+wrought.
+
+And when, his armor blazing like the brightest stars of the sky, he
+drew near, and Hector would have gone to meet him, in grief did Priam
+cry to his dearly loved son:
+
+"Hector, beloved son, I pray thee go not alone to meet this man;
+mightier far than thou is he."
+
+But all eager for the fight was Hector. Of all the men of Troy he
+alone still stood unafraid. Then did the mother of Hector beseech him
+to hold back from what must surely mean death. Yet Hector held not
+back, but on his shining shield leaned against a tower, awaiting the
+coming of the great destroyer.
+
+And at last they met, face to face, spear to spear. As a shooting-star
+in the darkness so flashed the spear of Achilles as he hurled it home
+to pierce the neck of Hector. Gods and men had deserted Hector, and
+alone before the walls of Troy he fell and died.
+
+Thus ended the fight.
+
+For twelve days did the Greek host rejoice, and all through the days
+Hector's body lay unburied. For at the heels of swift horses had the
+Greeks dragged him to the ships, while from the battlements his mother
+and his wife Andromache watched, wailing in agony, with hearts that
+broke.
+
+Then at length went old Priam to the camp of the Greeks. And before
+Achilles he fell, beseeching him to have mercy and to give him back
+the body of his son.
+
+So was the heart of Achilles moved, and the body of Hector ransomed;
+and with wailing of women did the people of Troy welcome home their
+hero.
+
+Over him lamented his old mother, for of all her sons was he to her
+most dear, and over him wept, with burning tears, his wife Andromache.
+
+And to his bier came Helen, and with breaking heart did she sob forth
+her sorrow:
+
+"Dearest of my brothers," she said, "from thee have I heard neither
+reproach nor evil word. With kind words and gentle heart hast thou
+ever stood by me. Lost, lost is my one true friend. No more in
+Troyland is any left to pity me."
+
+On lofty funeral pyre then laid they the dead Hector, and when the
+flames had consumed his body his comrades placed his white bones in a
+golden urn, and over it with great stones did they raise a mighty
+mound that all might see where he rested.
+
+Yet still was the warfare between Greeks and Trojans not ended.
+
+To Achilles death came in a shaft from the bow of Paris. By a poisoned
+arrow driven at venture and at dark midnight from the bow of an
+outcast leper was fair Paris slain. While winter snow lay white on
+Ida, in Helen's arms did his life ebb away.
+
+Then came there a day when the Greeks burned their camp and sailed
+homeward across the gray water.
+
+Behind them they left a mighty horse of wood, and the men of Troy came
+and drew it into the city as trophy and sign of victory over those who
+had made it. But inside the horse were hidden many of the bravest
+warriors of Greece, and at night, when the Trojans feasted, the Greeks
+came out of their hiding-place and threw open the gates.
+
+And up from the sea came the Greek host, and in fire and in blood fell
+the city of Troy.
+
+Yet did not Helen perish. Back to his own kingdom by the sea Menelaus
+took her, to reign, in peace, a queen, she who had brought grief and
+death to so many, and to the city of Troy unutterable woe.
+
+
+
+
+THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER
+
+ADAPTED BY JEANIE LANG
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+WHAT HAPPENED IN ITHACA WHILE ODYSSEUS WAS AWAY
+
+
+While Odysseus was fighting far away in Troyland, his baby son grew to
+be a big boy. And when years passed and Odysseus did not return, the
+boy, Telemachus, grew to be a man.
+
+Telemachus loved his beautiful mother, Penelope, but his heart always
+longed for the hero father whom he could only dimly remember. As time
+went on, he longed more and more, for evil things came to pass in the
+kingdom of Odysseus.
+
+The chiefs and lords of Ithaca admired Penelope for her beauty. They
+also coveted her money and her lands, and when Odysseus did not
+return, each one of these greedy and wicked men wished to marry her
+and make his own all that had belonged to brave Odysseus.
+
+"Odysseus is surely dead," they said, "and Telemachus is only a lad
+and cannot harm us."
+
+So they came to the palace where Penelope and Telemachus lived, and
+there they stayed, year in, year out, feasting and drinking and
+wasting the goods of Odysseus. Their roughness and greed troubled
+Penelope, but still more did they each one daily torment her by rudely
+asking: "Wilt thou marry me?"
+
+At last she fell on a plan to stop them from talking to her of
+marriage.
+
+In the palace hall she set up a great web, beautiful and fine of woof.
+
+Then she said, "When I have finished weaving this robe I shall give
+you my answer."
+
+Each day she worked at it, but each night, when the wooers slept, she
+undid all that she had done during the day. So it seemed to the wooers
+as if the robe would never be finished.
+
+Penelope's heart was heavy, and heavy, too, was the heart of
+Telemachus. For three weary years, while Odysseus was imprisoned on
+the island of Calypso, the mother and son pined together.
+
+One day Telemachus sat at the door of the palace sadly watching the
+wooers as they drank and reveled. He was thinking of the brave father
+that he feared was dead, when there walked up to the door of the
+courtyard a stranger dressed like a warrior from another land.
+
+The stranger was the goddess Athene. At the same time that she gained
+leave from the gods to set Odysseus free, they had agreed that she
+should go to Ithaca and help Telemachus. But she came dressed as a
+warrior, and not as a beautiful, gray-eyed, golden-haired goddess with
+golden sandals on her feet.
+
+Telemachus rose up and shook her kindly by the hand, and led her into
+the hall. He took from her the heavy bronze spear that she carried,
+and made her sit down on one of the finest of the chairs, in a place
+where the noise of the rough wooers should not disturb her.
+
+"Welcome, stranger," he said. "When thou hast had food, then shalt
+thou tell us in what way we can help thee."
+
+He then made servants bring a silver basin and golden ewer that she
+might wash her hands, and he fetched her food and wine of the best.
+
+Soon the wooers entered, and noisily ate they and drank, and roughly
+jested.
+
+Telemachus watched them and listened with an angry heart. Then, in a
+low voice, he said to Athene:
+
+"These men greedily eat and drink, and waste my father's goods. They
+think the bones of Odysseus bleach out in the rain in a far land, or
+are tossed about by the sea. But did my father still live, and were he
+to come home, the cowards would flee before him. Tell me, stranger,
+hast thou come from a far-off country? Hast thou ever seen my father?"
+
+Athene answered: "Odysseus still lives. He is a prisoner on a
+sea-girt island, but it will not be long ere he escapes and comes
+home. Thou art like Odysseus, my son. Thou hast a head like his, and
+the same beautiful eyes."
+
+When Athene spoke to him so kindly and so hopefully, Telemachus told
+her all that was in his heart. And when the wickedness and greed of
+the wooers was made known to her, Athene grew very angry.
+
+"Thou art in sore need of Odysseus," she said. "If Odysseus were to
+come to the door now with lance in hand, soon would he scatter those
+shameless ones before him."
+
+Then she told Telemachus what he must do.
+
+"To-morrow," said she, "call thy lords to a council meeting, and tell
+the wooers to return to their homes."
+
+For himself, she told him to fit out a ship with twenty oars-men, that
+he might sail to a land where he should get tidings of his father.
+
+"Thou art tall and handsome, my friend," she said. "Be brave, that
+even in days to come men may praise thy name."
+
+"Thou speakest as a father to a son. I will never forget what thou
+hast said," said Telemachus.
+
+He begged Athene to stay longer, and wished to give her a costly gift.
+But she would not stay, nor accept any present. To Telemachus she had
+given a gift, though he did not know it. For into his heart she had
+put strength and courage, so that when she flew away like a beautiful
+bird across the sea she left behind her, not a frightened, unhappy
+boy, but a strong, brave man.
+
+The wooers took no notice of the comings and goings of the strange
+warrior, so busy were they with their noisy feast. As they feasted a
+minstrel played to them on his lyre, and sang a song of the return of
+the warriors from Troyland when the fighting was over.
+
+From her room above, Penelope heard the song, and came down. For a
+little, standing by the door, she listened. Then she could bear it no
+longer, and, weeping, she said to the minstrel:
+
+"Sing some other song, and do not sing a song of return from Troyland
+to me, whose husband never returned."
+
+Then Telemachus, in a new and manly way that made her wonder, spoke to
+his mother:
+
+"Blame not the minstrel, dear mother," he said. "It is not his fault
+that he sings sad songs, but the fault of the gods who allow sad
+things to be. Thou art not the only one who hast lost a loved one in
+Troyland. Go back to thy room, and let me order what shall be, for I
+am now the head of the house."
+
+In the same fearless, manly way he spoke to the wooers:
+
+"Ye may feast to-night," he said; "only let there be no brawling.
+To-morrow meet with me. For once and for all it must be decided if ye
+are to go on wasting my goods, or if I am to be master of my own house
+and king in mine own land."
+
+The wooers bit their lips with rage, and some of them answered him
+rudely; but Telemachus paid no heed, and when at last they returned to
+their houses, he went upstairs to his own room. The old woman who had
+nursed him when he was a child carried torches before him to show him
+the way. When he sat down on his bed and took off his doublet, she
+folded and smoothed it and hung it up. Then she shut the door with its
+silver handle, and left Telemachus, wrapped in a soft fleece of wool,
+thinking far into the night of all that Athene had said to him.
+
+When day dawned he dressed and buckled on his sword, and told heralds
+to call the lords to a council meeting. When all were assembled he
+went into the hall. In his hand he carried a bronze spear, and two of
+his hounds followed him, and when he went up to his father's seat and
+sat down there, the oldest men gave place to him. For Athene had shed
+on him such a wondrous grace that he looked like a young god.
+
+"Never since brave Odysseus sailed away to Troyland have we had a
+council meeting," said one old lord. "I think the man who hath called
+this meeting is a true man--good luck go with him! May the gods give
+him his heart's desire."
+
+So good a beginning did this seem that Telemachus was glad, and,
+burning to say all that had been in his heart for so long, he rose to
+his feet and spoke.
+
+Of the loss of his father he spoke sadly, and then, with burning
+words, of the cowardly wooers, of their feastings and revelings and
+wasting of his goods, and of their insolence to Penelope and himself.
+
+When he had thus spoken in rage and grief, he burst into tears.
+
+For a little there was silence, then one of the wooers said angrily:
+
+"Penelope is to blame, and no other. For three years she has deceived
+us. 'I will give you my answer when I have finished weaving this
+robe,' she said, and so we waited and waited. But now that three years
+have gone and a fourth has begun, it is told us by one of her maids
+that each night she has undone all she has woven during the day. She
+can deceive us no longer. She must now finish the robe, and tell us
+whom she will marry. For we will not leave this place until she has
+chosen a husband."
+
+Then, once again, with pleading words, Telemachus tried to move the
+hearts of the wooers.
+
+"If ye will not go," at last he said, "I will ask the gods to reward
+you for your wickedness."
+
+As he spoke, two eagles flew, fleet as the wind, from the mountain
+crest. Side by side they flew until they were above the place of the
+council meeting. Then they wheeled about, darted with fury at each
+other, and tore with their savage talons at each other's heads and
+necks. Flapping their great wings, they then went swiftly away and
+were lost in the far distance.
+
+Said a wise old man: "It is an omen. Odysseus will return, and woe
+will come upon the wooers. Let us make an end of these evil doings and
+keep harm away from us."
+
+"Go home, old man," angrily mocked the wooers. "Prophesy to thine own
+children. Odysseus is dead. Would that thou hadst died with him. Then
+thou couldst not have babbled nonsense, and tried to hound on
+Telemachus in the hope that he may give thee a gift."
+
+To Telemachus they said again:
+
+"We will go on wasting thy goods until Penelope weds one of us."
+
+Only one other beside the old man was brave enough to speak for
+Telemachus. Fearlessly and nobly did his friend Mentor blame the
+wooers for their shamelessness. But they jeered at him, and laughed
+aloud when Telemachus told them he was going to take a ship and go to
+look for his father.
+
+"He will never come back," said one, "and even were Odysseus himself
+to return, we should slay him when he came."
+
+Then the council meeting broke up, and the wooers went again to revel
+in the palace of Odysseus.
+
+Down to the seashore went Telemachus and knelt where the gray water
+broke in little white wavelets on the sand.
+
+"Hear me," he cried, "thou who didst speak with me yesterday. I know
+now that thou art a god. Tell me, I pray thee? how shall I find a ship
+to sail across the misty sea and find my father? For there is none to
+help me."
+
+Swiftly, in answer to his cry, came Athene.
+
+"Be brave. Be thy father's son," she said. "Go back to thy house and
+get ready corn and wine for the voyage. I will choose the best of all
+the ships in Ithaca for thee, and have her launched, and manned by a
+crew, all of them willing men."
+
+Then Telemachus returned to the palace. In the courtyard the wooers
+were slaying goats and singeing swine and making ready a great feast.
+
+"Here comes Telemachus, who is planning to destroy us," they mocked.
+"Telemachus, who speaks so proudly--- angry Telemachus."
+
+Said one youth:
+
+"Who knows but what if he goes on a voyage he will be like Odysseus,
+and never return. Then will we have all his riches to divide among
+ourselves, and his house will belong to the man who weds Penelope."
+
+Telemachus shook off the jeering crowd, and went down to the vaulted
+chamber where his father's treasures were kept. Gold and bronze lay
+there in piles, and there were great boxes of splendid clothes, and
+casks of wine. The heavy folding doors of the treasure chamber were
+shut day and night, and the old nurse was the keeper of the treasures.
+
+Telemachus bade her get ready corn and wine for the voyage.
+
+"When my mother has gone to rest I will take them away," he said, "for
+this night I go to seek my father across the sea."
+
+At this the old nurse began to cry.
+
+"Do not go, dear child," she wailed. "Thou art our only one, and we
+love thee so well. Odysseus is dead, and what canst thou do, sailing
+far away across the deep sea? As soon as thou art gone, those wicked
+men will begin to plot evil against thee. Do not go. Do not go. There
+is no need for thee to risk thy life on the sea and go wandering far
+from home."
+
+"Take heart, nurse," said Telemachus. "The goddess Athene has told me
+to go, so all will be well. But promise me not to tell my dear mother
+that I am gone until she misses me. For I do not wish to mar her fair
+face with tears."
+
+The nurse promised, and began to make ready all that Telemachus
+wished.
+
+Meantime Athene, in the likeness of Telemachus, found a swift-sailing
+ship, and men to sail it. When darkness fell, she sent sleep on the
+wooers and led Telemachus down to the shore where his men sat by their
+oars.
+
+To the palace, where every one slept and all was still and quiet,
+Telemachus brought his men. None but the old nurse knew he was going
+away, but they found the food and wine that she had got ready and
+carried it down to the ship. Then Athene went on board, and Telemachus
+sat beside her. A fresh west wind filled the sails and went singing
+over the waves. The dark water surged up at the bow as the ship cut
+through it. And all night long and till the dawn, the ship sailed
+happily on her way.
+
+At sunrise they came to land, and Athene and Telemachus went on shore.
+The rulers of the country welcomed them and treated them well, but
+could tell nothing of Odysseus after the siege of Troy was over.
+Athene gave Telemachus into their care, then, turning herself into a
+sea-eagle, she flew swiftly away, leaving them amazed because they
+knew she must be one of the gods.
+
+While Telemachus sought for news of his father in this kingdom, and
+the kingdoms near it, the wooers began to miss him at their feasts.
+They fancied he was away hunting, until, one day, as they played games
+in front of the palace, the man whose ship Athene had borrowed came to
+them.
+
+"When will Telemachus return with my ship?" he asked.
+
+"I need it that I may cross over to where I keep my horses. I wish to
+catch one and break him in."
+
+When the wooers heard from him that Telemachus had sailed away with
+twenty brave youths, in the swiftest ship in Ithaca, they were filled
+with rage.
+
+At once they got a ship and sailed to where they might meet Telemachus
+in a strait between Ithaca and another rocky island.
+
+"We will slay him there," said they. "We will give him a woful end to
+his voyage in search of his father."
+
+When Penelope heard this, and knew that her son was perhaps sailing to
+his doom, her heart well-nigh broke. She wept bitterly, and reproached
+her maidens with not having told her that Telemachus had gone.
+
+"Slay me if thou wilt," said the old nurse, "but I alone knew it.
+Telemachus made me promise not to tell thee, that thy fair face might
+not be marred by weeping. Do not fear, the goddess Athene will take
+care of him."
+
+Thus she comforted her mistress, and although she lay long awake that
+night, Penelope fell asleep at last. In her dreams Athene came to her
+and told her that Telemachus would come safely home, and so Penelope's
+sad heart was cheered.
+
+While she slept the wooers sailed away in a swift, black ship, with
+spears in their hands and murder in their hearts. On a little rocky
+isle they landed until the ship of Telemachus should pass, and there
+they waited, that they might slay him when he came.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+HOW ODYSSEUS CAME HOME
+
+
+While yet Telemachus sought news of his father, Odysseus was well-nigh
+home. On that misty morning when he found himself in Ithaca, and did
+not know it, because the gray fog made everything seem strange and
+unfriendly, Odysseus was very sad as he sat beside the moaning sea.
+
+Then came Athene, and drove the mist before her, and Odysseus saw
+again the land that he loved, and knew that his wanderings were past.
+She told him the tale of the wooers, and of the unhappiness of
+Penelope and Telemachus, and the heart of Odysseus grew hot within
+him.
+
+"Stand by me!" he said to the goddess. "If thou of thy grace wilt help
+me, I myself will fight three hundred men."
+
+"Truly I will stand by thee," said Athene, "and many of the greedy
+wooers shall stain the earth with their blood."
+
+She then told Odysseus how the wooers were to be destroyed, and
+Odysseus gladly agreed to her plans. First she made him hide far in
+the darkness of the cave, under the olive-tree, all the gold and
+bronze ornaments and beautiful clothes that had been given to him in
+the land of Nausicaa.
+
+Then she touched him with her golden wand. In a moment his yellow hair
+fell off his head; his bright eyes were dim; his skin was withered and
+wrinkled, and he had a stooping back and tottering legs like a feeble
+old man. His clothes of purple and silver she changed into torn and
+filthy old rags, and over his shoulders she threw the old skin of a
+stag with the hair worn off.
+
+"Go now," said Athene, "to where thy faithful swineherd sits on the
+hill, watching his swine as they grub among the acorns and drink of
+the clear spring. He has always been true to thee and to thy wife and
+son. Stay with him and hear all that he has to tell, and I will go and
+fetch home Telemachus."
+
+"When thou didst know all, why didst thou not tell Telemachus?" asked
+Odysseus. "Is he, too, to go wandering over stormy seas, far from his
+own land?"
+
+"Telemachus will be a braver man for what he has gone through," said
+Athene. "No harm shall come to him, although the wooers in their black
+ship wait to slay him."
+
+Then Athene flew across the sea, and Odysseus climbed up a rough track
+through the woods to where the swineherd had built himself a hut. The
+hut was made of stones and thorn-branches, and beside it were sties
+for the swine made in the same way. The wooers had eaten many swine at
+their daily feasts, but thousands remained. These the swineherd
+tended, with three men and four fierce dogs to help him.
+
+At an open space on the hill, from whence he could look down at the
+woods and the sea, Odysseus found the swineherd sitting at the door of
+his hut making himself a pair of sandals out of brown ox-hide.
+
+When the swineherd's dogs saw a dirty, bent old man toiling up the
+hill, they rushed at him, barking furiously. Up they leapt on him and
+would have torn him to pieces if their master had not cast away his
+ox-hide, dashed after them, scolded them and beaten them, and then
+driven them off with showers of stones.
+
+"If my dogs had killed thee I should have been for ever ashamed," he
+said to Odysseus, "and without that I have enough sorrow. For while my
+noble master may be wandering in a strange land and lacking food, I
+have to feed his fat swine for others to eat."
+
+So speaking, he led Odysseus to his hut. He laid some brushwood on the
+floor, spread over it the soft, shaggy skin of a wild goat, and bade
+Odysseus be seated. Then he went out to the sties, killed two sucking
+pigs, and roasted them daintily. When they were ready he cut off the
+choicest bits and gave them to Odysseus, with a bowl of honey-sweet
+wine.
+
+While Odysseus ate and drank, the swineherd talked to him of the greed
+and wastefulness of the wooers, and in silence Odysseus listened,
+planning in his heart how he might punish them.
+
+"Tell me thy master's name," he said at length. "I have traveled in
+many lands. Perchance I may have seen him, and may give thee news of
+him."
+
+But the swineherd answered:
+
+"Each vagrant who comes straying to the land of Ithaca goes to my
+mistress with lying tales of how he has seen or heard of my master.
+She receives them all kindly, and asks many questions, while tears run
+down her cheeks. You, too, old man, would quickly make up a story if
+any one would give thee some new clothes. My master is surely dead,
+and wherever I may go I shall never again find a lord so gentle."
+
+Then said Odysseus:
+
+"My friend, I swear to thee that Odysseus shall return. In this year,
+as the old moon wanes and the new is born, he shall return to his
+home."
+
+When the other herds returned that evening they found Odysseus and
+their master still deep in talk. At night the swineherd made a feast
+of the best that he had, and still they talked, almost until dawn. The
+night was black and stormy, and a drenching rain blotted out the moon,
+but the swineherd, leaving Odysseus lying in the bed he had made for
+him, with his own thick mantle spread over him, went outside and lay
+under a rock that sheltered him from the storm, keeping guard on the
+white-tusked boars that slept around him. And Odysseus knew that he
+had still at least one servant who was faithful and true.
+
+While Odysseus dwelt with the swineherd, Athene sought Telemachus and
+bade him hasten home. Speedily Telemachus went back to his ship and
+his men. The hawsers were loosed, the white sail hauled up, and Athene
+sent a fresh breeze that made the ship cut through the water like a
+white-winged bird. It was night when they passed the island where the
+wooers awaited their coming, and in the darkness none saw them go by.
+
+By daybreak they reached Ithaca, and Telemachus, as Athene had bidden
+him, sent on the men to the harbor with the ship, but made them put
+him ashore on the woody coast near the swineherd's dwelling.
+
+With his bronze-shod spear in his hand, Telemachus strode up the rocky
+path. Odysseus and the swineherd had kindled a fire, and were
+preparing the morning meal, when Odysseus heard the noise of
+footsteps. He looked out and saw a tall lad with yellow hair and
+bright eyes, and a fearless, noble face. "Surely here is a friend," he
+said to the swineherd. "Thy dogs are not barking, but jump up and fawn
+on him."
+
+The swineherd looked, and when he saw his young master he wept for
+joy.
+
+"I thought I should never see thee more, sweet light of my eyes," he
+said. "Come into my hut, that I may gladden my heart with the sight of
+thee."
+
+He then spread before him the best he had, and the three men ate
+together. Although Odysseus seemed only a poor, ragged, old beggar,
+Telemachus treated him with such gentleness and such courtesy that
+Odysseus was proud and glad of his noble son. Soon Telemachus sent the
+swineherd to tell Penelope of his safe return, and while he was gone
+Athene entered the hut. She made herself invisible to Telemachus, but
+beckoned to Odysseus to go outside.
+
+"The time is come for thee to tell thy son who thou art," she said,
+and touched him with her golden wand.
+
+At once Odysseus was again a strong man, dressed in fine robes, and
+radiant and beautiful as the sun.
+
+When he went back into the hut Telemachus thought he was a god.
+
+"No god am I," said Odysseus; "I am thy father, Telemachus."
+
+And Odysseus took his son in his arms and kissed him, and the tears
+that he had kept back until now ran down his cheeks. Telemachus flung
+his arms round his father's neck, and he, too, wept like a little
+child, so glad was he that Odysseus had come home.
+
+All day they spoke of the wooers and plotted how to slay them.
+
+When the swineherd returned, and Athene had once more changed Odysseus
+into an old beggar-man, he told Telemachus that the wooers had
+returned, and were so furious with Telemachus for escaping from them,
+that they were going to kill him next day.
+
+At this Telemachus smiled to his father, but neither said a word.
+
+Next morning Telemachus took his spear and said to the swineherd:
+
+"I go to the palace to see my mother. As for this old beggar-man, lead
+him to the city, that he may beg there."
+
+And Odysseus, still pretending to be a beggar, said:
+
+"It is better to beg in the town than in the fields. My garments are
+very poor and thin, and this frosty air chills me; but as soon as I am
+warmed at the fire and the sun grows hot, I will gladly set out."
+
+Down the hill to the city strode Telemachus. When he came to the
+palace, his old nurse, whom he found busy in the hall, wept for joy.
+And when Penelope heard his voice, she came from her room and cast her
+arms round him and kissed his face and his eyes, and said, while tears
+ran down her cheeks:
+
+"Thou art come, sweet light of my eyes. I thought I should never see
+thee more."
+
+Then Telemachus, looking like a young god, with his spear in his hand
+and his two hounds following at his heels, went to the hall where the
+wooers sat. To his friend Mentor he told his adventures, but he looked
+on the wooers with silence and scorn.
+
+Soon Odysseus and the swineherd followed him to the city. A beggar's
+bag, all tattered, was slung round the shoulders of Odysseus. In his
+hand he carried a staff. Men who saw him, tattered and feeble, mocked
+at him and his guide. But Odysseus kept down the anger in his heart,
+and they went on to the palace. Near the doorway, lying in the dirt,
+thin and old and rough of coat, lay Argos, the dog that long ago had
+been the best and fleetest that had hunted the hares and deer with
+Odysseus.
+
+When he heard his master's voice he wagged his tail and tried to crawl
+near him. But he was too feeble to move. He could only look up with
+loving, wistful eyes that were almost blind, and thump his tail
+gladly. So glad was he that his faithful heart broke for joy, and
+before Odysseus could pat his head or speak a kind word to him, old
+Argos rolled over dead.
+
+There were tears in the eyes of Odysseus as he walked past the body of
+his friend. He sat down on the threshold leaning on his staff, and
+when Telemachus sent him bread and meat from his table he ate
+hungrily. When the meal was over he went round the hall begging from
+the wooers. Some gave him scraps of broken meats, others called him
+hard names and bade him begone, and one of them seized a footstool and
+struck him with it.
+
+But Odysseus still kept down the anger in his heart, and went back to
+his seat on the threshold with his beggar's bag full of the scraps
+that had been given to him.
+
+As he sat there, a common beggar, well known for his greed and
+impudence, came to the palace.
+
+"Get thee hence, old man," said he to Odysseus, "else I shall knock
+all thy teeth from thy head."
+
+More, too, he said, rudely and roughly, and at last he struck
+Odysseus.
+
+Then Odysseus could bear no more, and smote him such a blow on his
+neck that the bones were broken, and he fell on the ground with blood
+gushing from his mouth. Odysseus dragged him outside by the heels, and
+propped him, with his staff in his hands, against the courtyard wall.
+
+"Sit there," he said, "and scare off dogs and swine."
+
+The wooers laughed and enjoyed the sport, and gave gifts of food to
+the sturdy old beggar, as they took Odysseus to be. All evening they
+feasted and drank, but when night fell they went to their own homes.
+
+When they were gone Odysseus and Telemachus carried all the helmets
+and swords and sharp-pointed spears that stood in the hall, away to
+the armory and hid them there.
+
+Then Telemachus went to his room to rest, but Odysseus sat in the hall
+where the servants were clearing away the remains of the feast. While
+he sat there, Penelope came with her maids and rested on a chair In
+front of the glowing wood fire on which the servants had piled fresh
+logs.
+
+She talked kindly and gently to the old beggar-man, and bade the old
+nurse bring water to wash his weary feet.
+
+Now, once long ago, a wild boar that he hunted had torn the leg of
+Odysseus with his tusk, and as the old nurse washed his feet she saw
+the scar. In a moment she knew her master, and cried out. The brazen
+bath fell with a clang on the floor, and the water was spilt.
+
+"Thou art Odysseus," she said; "I did not know thee, my dear child,
+until I found the scar."
+
+Penelope must have heard her glad cry, had not Athene at that moment
+made her deep in thoughts of other things. Quickly Odysseus bade the
+old nurse be silent, and the old woman obeyed him.
+
+Before Penelope went to rest she said sadly to Odysseus: "I feel that
+the end is drawing near. Soon I shall be parted from the house of
+Odysseus. My husband, who was always the best and bravest, used to set
+up the twelve axes ye see standing here, and between each axe he shot
+an arrow. I have told the wooers that I shall marry whichever one of
+them can do the like. Then I shall leave this house, which must be for
+ever most dear to me."
+
+Then answered the old beggar-man: "Odysseus will be here when they
+shoot. It will be Odysseus who shoots between the axes."
+
+Penelope, longing for his words to be true, went up to her room and
+lay crying on her bed until her pillows were wet. Then Athene sent
+sleep upon her eyelids and made her forget all her sorrows.
+
+Odysseus, too, would have tossed all night wide awake, with a heart
+full of anger and revenge, had not Athene gently laid her hands on his
+eyes and made him fall asleep.
+
+Next day the wooers came to the palace, and with rough jest and rude
+word they greeted Odysseus.
+
+"Who harms this man must fight with me," said Telemachus, and at that
+the wooers shouted with laughter.
+
+But a stranger who sat among them cried out in a voice of fear:
+
+"I see your hands and knees shrouded in blackness! I see your cheeks
+wet with tears! The walls and the pillars drip blood; the porch is
+full of shadows, and pale ghosts are hastening out of the gray mist
+that fills the palace."
+
+At this the wooers laughed the more, for they thought the man was mad.
+But, as in a dream, he had seen truly what was to come to pass.
+
+Weeping, Penelope then brought forth from the armory the great bow
+with which Odysseus had shot in years that were past. Her heart was
+full of love for Odysseus, and she could not bear to wed another.
+
+Telemachus then threw aside his red cloak and ranged out the bronze
+axes.
+
+One by one the wooers tried to move the great bow and make it drive a
+swift arrow before it. One by one they failed.
+
+And when it seemed as if no man there was strong enough to move it,
+Odysseus took it in his hands, and between each axe he shot an arrow.
+When the last arrow was shot he tore off his rags, and in a voice that
+rang through the palace he cried to Telemachus: "Now is it time to
+prepare supper for the wooers! Now, at last, is this terrible trial
+ended. I go to shoot at another mark!"
+
+With that he shot an arrow at the wooer who had ever been the most
+insolent and the most cruel. It smote him in the throat, his blood
+dripped red on the ground, and he fell dead.
+
+The others gave a great cry of rage, but Odysseus looked at them with
+burning eyes, and with a voice that made them tremble he cried:
+
+"Ye dogs! ye said I should never return, and, like the traitors ye
+are, ye have wasted my goods and insulted my queen. But now death has
+come for you, and none shall escape."
+
+In vain did the cowards, their faces pale with fear, beg for mercy.
+Mercy there was none that day. It was useless for those who drew their
+swords and rushed on Odysseus to try to slay him, for ere their swords
+could touch him, his bow had driven sharp arrows into their hearts.
+
+One of the servants of the palace treacherously climbed into the
+armory and brought spears and shields and helmets for the wooers. But
+even that did not daunt Odysseus and his son. Telemachus, with his
+spear, slew man after man. When his arrows were done Odysseus also
+snatched a spear, and they fought side by side. Beside them fought the
+swineherd and one other man, and they all fought the more fearlessly
+because, all the time, Athene put fresh courage in their hearts.
+
+There were four men to very many others when that fight began. When it
+was ended the floor ran with blood, and Odysseus, like a lion at bay,
+stood with the dead bodies of the wooers piled in heaps around him and
+his face and hands stained with blood.
+
+When all lay dead, the old nurse gave a great cry of joy.
+
+"Rejoice in thy heart, old nurse," said Odysseus. "It is an unholy
+thing to rejoice openly over slain men."
+
+The nurse hastened to Penelope's room.
+
+"Penelope, dear child!" she cried, "Odysseus is come home, and all the
+wooers lie dead."
+
+At first Penelope would not believe her. Too good did it seem to be
+true. Even when she came down and saw Odysseus leaning against a tall
+pillar in the light of the fire, she would not believe what her own
+eyes saw.
+
+"Surely, mother, thy heart is as hard as stone," said Telemachus.
+"Dost thou not know my father?"
+
+But Penelope saw only a ragged beggar-man, soiled with the blood of
+the men he had slain, old and ugly and poor.
+
+Then Athene shed her grace upon Odysseus, and once more he was tall
+and strong and gallant to look upon, with golden hair curling like
+hyacinth flowers around his head. And Penelope ran to him and threw
+out her arms, and they held each other close and wept together like
+those who have suffered shipwreck, and have been tossed for long by
+angry seas, and yet have won safely home at last.
+
+And when the sun went down that night on the little rocky island of
+Ithaca in the far seas, the heart of Odysseus was glad, for he knew
+that his wanderings were ended.
+
+
+
+
+ROBINSON CRUSOE
+
+By DANIEL DEFOE
+
+ADAPTED BY JOHN LANG
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+HOW ROBINSON FIRST WENT TO SEA; AND HOW HE WAS SHIPWRECKED
+
+
+Long, long ago, before even your grandfather's father was born, there
+lived in the town of York a boy whose name was Robinson Crusoe. Though
+he never even saw the sea till he was quite a big boy, he had always
+wanted to be a sailor, and to go away in a ship to visit strange,
+foreign, far-off lands; and he thought that if he could only do that,
+he would be quite happy.
+
+But his father wanted him to be a lawyer, and he often talked to
+Robinson, and told him of the terrible things that might happen to him
+if he went away, and how people who stopped at home were always the
+happiest. He told him, too, how Robinson's brother had gone away, and
+had been killed in the wars.
+
+So Robinson promised at last that he would give up wanting to be a
+sailor. But in a few days the longing came back as bad as ever, and he
+asked his mother to try to coax his father to let him go just one
+voyage. But his mother was very angry, and his father said, "If he
+goes abroad he will be the most miserable wretch that ever was born. I
+can give no consent to it."
+
+Robinson stopped at home for another year, till he was nineteen years
+old, all the time thinking and thinking of the sea. But one day when
+he had gone on a visit to Hull, a big town by the sea, to say good-by
+to one of his friends who was going to London, he could not resist the
+chance. Without even sending a message to his father and mother, he
+went on board his friend's ship, and sailed away.
+
+But as soon as the wind began to blow and the waves to rise, poor
+Robinson was very frightened and seasick, and he said to himself that
+if ever he got on shore he would go straight home and never again
+leave it.
+
+He was very solemn till the wind stopped blowing. His friend and the
+sailors laughed at him, and called him a fool, and he very soon
+forgot, when the weather was fine and the sun shining, all he had
+thought about going back to his father and mother.
+
+But in a few days, when the ship had sailed as far as Yarmouth Roads
+on her way to London, they had to anchor, and wait for a fair wind. In
+those days there were no steamers, and vessels had only their sails to
+help them along; so if it was calm, or the wind blew the wrong way,
+they had just to wait where they were till a fair wind blew.
+
+While they lay at Yarmouth the weather became very bad, and there was
+a great storm. The sea was so heavy and Robinson's ship was in such
+danger, that at last they had to cut away the masts in order to ease
+her and to stop her from rolling so terribly. The Captain fired guns
+to show that his ship wanted help. So a boat from another ship was
+lowered, and came with much difficulty and took off Robinson and all
+the crew, just before their vessel sank; and they got ashore at last,
+very wet and miserable, having lost all their clothes except what they
+had on.
+
+But Robinson had some money in his pocket, and he went on to London by
+land, thinking that if he returned home now, people would laugh at
+him.
+
+In London he made friends with a ship's captain, who had not long
+before come home from a voyage to the Guinea Coast, as that part of
+Africa was then called; and the Captain was so pleased with the money
+he had made there, that he easily persuaded Robinson to go with him on
+his next voyage.
+
+So Robinson took with him toys, and beads, and other things, to sell
+to the natives in Africa, and he got there, in exchange for these
+things, so much gold-dust that he thought he was soon going in that
+way to make his fortune.
+
+And therefore he went on a second voyage.
+
+But this time he was not so lucky, for before they reached the African
+coast, one morning, very early, they sighted another ship, which they
+were sure was a pirate. So fast did this other vessel sail, that
+before night she had come up to Robinson's ship, which did not carry
+nearly so many men nor so many guns as the pirate, and which therefore
+did not want to fight; and the pirates soon took prisoner Robinson and
+all the crew of his ship who were not killed, and made slaves of them.
+
+The pirate captain took Robinson as his own slave, and made him dig in
+his garden and work in his house. Sometimes, too, he made him look
+after his ship when she was in port, but he never took him away on a
+voyage.
+
+For two years Robinson lived like this, very unhappy, and always
+thinking how he might escape.
+
+At last, when the Captain happened one time to be at home longer than
+usual, he began to go out fishing in a boat two or three times a week,
+taking Robinson, who was a very good fisher, and a black boy named
+Xury, with him.
+
+One day he gave Robinson orders to put food and water, and some guns,
+and powder and shot, on a big boat that the pirates had taken out of
+an English ship, and to be ready to go with him and some of his
+friends on a fishing trip.
+
+But at the last moment the Captain's friends could not come, and so
+Robinson was told to go out in the boat with one of the Captain's
+servants who was not a slave, and with Xury, to catch fish for supper.
+
+Then Robinson thought that his chance to escape had come.
+
+He spoke to the servant, who was not very clever, and persuaded him to
+put more food and water on the boat, for, said Robinson, "we must not
+take what was meant for our master." And then he got the servant to
+bring some more powder and shot, because, Robinson said, they might as
+well kill some birds to eat.
+
+When they had gone out about a mile, they hauled down the sail and
+began to fish. But Robinson pretended that he could not catch anything
+there, and he said that they ought to go further out. When they had
+gone so far that nobody on shore could see what they were doing,
+Robinson again pretended to fish. But this time he watched his chance,
+and when the servant was not looking, came behind him and threw him
+overboard, knowing that the man could swim so well that he could
+easily reach the land.
+
+Then Robinson sailed away with Xury down the coast to the south. He
+did not know to what country he was steering, but cared only to get
+away from the pirates, and to be free once more.
+
+Long days and nights they sailed, sometimes running in close to the
+land, but they were afraid to go ashore very often, because of the
+wild beasts and the natives. Many times they saw great lions come
+roaring down on to the beach, and once Robinson shot one that he saw
+lying asleep, and took its skin to make a bed for himself on the boat.
+
+At last, after some weeks, when they had got south as far as the great
+cape that is called Cape Verde, they saw a Portuguese vessel, which
+took them on board. It was not easy for Robinson to tell who he was,
+because he could not talk Portuguese, but everybody was very kind to
+him, and they bought his boat and his guns and everything that he had.
+They even bought poor Xury, who, of course, was a black slave, and
+could be sold just like a horse or a dog.
+
+So, when they got to Brazil, where the vessel was bound, Robinson had
+enough money to buy a plantation; and he grew sugar and tobacco there
+for four years, and was very happy and contented for a time, and made
+money.
+
+But he could never be contented for very long. So when some of his
+neighbors asked him if he would go in a ship to the Guinea Coast to
+get slaves for them, he went, only making a bargain that he was to be
+paid for his trouble, and to get some of the slaves to work on his
+plantation when he came back.
+
+Twelve days after the ship sailed, a terrible storm blew, and they
+were driven far from where they wanted to go. Great, angry, foaming
+seas broke over the deck, sweeping everything off that could be moved,
+and a man and a boy were carried overboard and drowned. No one on the
+ship expected to be saved.
+
+This storm was followed by another, even worse. The wind howled and
+roared through the rigging, and the weather was thick with rain and
+flying spray.
+
+Then early one morning land was dimly seen through the driving rain,
+but almost at once the vessel struck on a sand-bank. In an instant the
+sails were blown to bits, and flapped with such uproar that no one
+could hear the Captain's orders. Waves poured over the decks, and the
+vessel bumped on the sand so terribly that the masts broke off near
+the deck, and fell over the side into the sea.
+
+With great difficulty the only boat left on the ship was put in the
+water, and everybody got into her. They rowed for the shore, hoping to
+get perhaps into some bay, or to the mouth of a river, where the sea
+would be quiet.
+
+But before they could reach the land, a huge gray wave, big like the
+side of a house, came foaming and thundering up behind them, and
+before any one could even cry out, it upset the boat, and they were
+all left struggling in the water.
+
+Robinson was a very good swimmer, but no man could swim in such a sea,
+and it was only good fortune that brought him at last safely to land.
+Big wave after big wave washed him further and further up the beach,
+rolling him over and over, once leaving him helpless, and more than
+half drowned, beside a rock.
+
+But before the next wave could come up, perhaps to drag him back with
+it into the sea, he was able to jump up and run for his life.
+
+And so he got safely out of the reach of the water, and lay down upon
+the grass. But of all on board the ship, Robinson was the only one who
+was not drowned.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+ROBINSON WORKS HARD AT MAKING HIMSELF A HOME
+
+
+When he had rested a little, Robinson got up and began to walk about
+very sadly, for darkness was coming on; he was wet, and cold, and
+hungry, and he did not know where to sleep, because he was afraid of
+wild beasts coming out of the woods and killing him during the night.
+
+But he found that he still had his knife in his pocket, so he cut a
+big stick to protect himself with. Then he climbed into a tree which
+had very thick leaves, and there he fixed himself among the branches
+as well as he could, and fell sound asleep.
+
+In the morning when he awoke, the storm was past, and the sea quieter.
+To his surprise, he saw that the ship had been carried in the night,
+by the great seas, much nearer to the shore than she had been when the
+boat left her, and was now lying not far from the rock where Robinson
+had first been washed up.
+
+By midday the sea was quite calm, and the tide had gone so far out
+that he could walk very near to the ship. So he took off his clothes
+and swam the rest of the way to her. But it was not easy to get on
+board, because the ship was resting on the sand, and lay so high out
+of the water that Robinson could not reach anything by which he could
+pull himself up.
+
+At last, after swimming twice round the vessel, he saw a rope hanging
+over, near the bow, and by its help he climbed on board.
+
+Everything in the stern of the ship was dry, and in pretty good order,
+and the water had not hurt the provisions much. So he took some
+biscuits, and ate them as he looked about, and drank some rum, and
+then he felt better, and stronger, and more fit to begin work.
+
+First of all, he took a few large spars of wood, and a spare topmast
+or two, that were on the deck. These he pushed overboard, tying each
+with a rope to keep it from drifting away. Then he went over the side
+of the ship, and tied all the spars together so as to make a raft, and
+on top he put pieces of plank across. But it was long before he could
+make the raft fit to carry the things he wanted to take on shore.
+
+At last, after much hard work, he got on to it three of the seamen's
+chests, which he had broken open, and emptied, and he filled these
+with bread, and rice, and cheese, and whatever he could find to eat,
+and with all sorts of things that he thought he might need. He found,
+too, the carpenter's tool-chest, and put it on the raft; and nothing
+on the whole ship was of more use to him than that.
+
+Then he set about looking for clothes, for while he had been on the
+ship, the tide had risen and had washed away his coat and waistcoat
+and shirt, which he had left lying on the sand.
+
+Guns and pistols also, and powder and shot, he took, and two rusty old
+cutlasses.
+
+Now the trouble was to reach land, for the raft had no mast nor sail
+nor rudder, and was too heavy and clumsy to be pulled by Robinson with
+the broken oars that he had found. But the tide was rising, and slowly
+she drifted nearer and nearer, and at last was carried up the mouth of
+a little river which Robinson had not seen when he was on shore.
+
+There was a strong tide running up, which once carried the raft
+against a point of land, where she stuck for a time, and very nearly
+upset all the things into deep water. But as the tide rose higher,
+Robinson was able to push her into a little bay where the water was
+shallow and the ground beneath flat, and when the tide went out there
+she was left high and dry, and he got everything safely ashore.
+
+The next thing that Robinson did was to climb a hill, that he might
+see what sort of country he was in, and find out if there were any
+other people in it. But when he got to the top, he saw to his sorrow
+that he was on an island, with no other land in sight except some
+rocks, and two smaller islands far over the sea. There were no signs
+of any people, and he saw nothing living except great numbers of
+birds, one of which he shot. But it was not fit to eat, being some
+kind of hawk.
+
+After this, with the chests and boards that he had brought on shore,
+he made a kind of hut to sleep in that night, and he lay there on the
+sand very comfortably.
+
+Day by day now for some time Robinson swam out to the ship, and made
+fresh rafts, loading them with many stores, powder and shot, and lead
+for bullets, seven muskets, a great barrel of bread, three casks of
+rum, a quantity of flour, some grain, a box of sugar, sails and ropes
+and twine, bags of nails, and many hatchets. With one of the sails he
+made himself a good tent, in which he put everything that could be
+spoiled by rain or sun. Around it he piled all the casks and other
+heavy things, so that no wild beast could very easily get at him.
+
+In about a fortnight the weather changed; it blew very hard one
+night, and in the morning the ship had broken up, and was no more to
+be seen. But that did not so much matter, for Robinson had got out of
+her nearly everything that he could use.
+
+Now Robinson thought it time to find some better place for his tent.
+The land where it then stood was low and near the sea, and the only
+water he could get to drink tasted rather salt. Looking about, he
+found a little plain, about a hundred yards across, on the side of a
+hill, and at the end of the plain was a great rock partly hollowed
+out, but not so as quite to make a cave. Here he pitched his tent,
+close to the hollow place in the rock. Round in front of the tent he
+drove two rows of strong stakes, about eighteen inches apart,
+sharpened at top; and he made this fence so strong that when it was
+finished he was sure that nothing could get at him, for he left no
+door, but climbed in and out by a ladder, which he always hauled up
+after him.
+
+Before closing up the end, Robinson hauled inside this fence all his
+stores, his food and his guns, his powder and shot, and he rigged
+inside a double tent, so better to keep off the hot sun and the rain.
+
+Then he began to dig into the rock, which was not very hard, and soon
+behind his tent he had a cave in which he thought it wise to stow his
+gunpowder, about one hundred and forty pounds in all, packed in small
+parcels; for, he thought, if a big thunderstorm were to come, a flash
+of lightning might explode it all, and blow him to bits, if he kept
+the whole of it in his tent.
+
+Robinson was now very comfortable, and as he had saved from the wreck
+two cats and a dog, he did not feel quite so lonely. He had got, also,
+ink and pens and paper, so that he could keep a diary; and he set up a
+large wooden cross, on which he cut with his knife the date of his
+landing on the island--September 30, 1659; and every day he cut a
+notch on the post, with a longer one each Sunday, so that he might
+always know how the months and years passed.
+
+As for food, he found that there were many goats on the island, and
+numbers of pigeons, and he had no difficulty in shooting as many as he
+needed.
+
+But now he saw that his tent and cave were too small for all the
+things he had stowed in them, so he began to make the cave bigger,
+bringing out all the rock and soil that he cut down, and making with
+it a kind of terrace round the inside of his stockade. And as he was
+sure that there were no wild beasts on the island to harm him, he went
+on tunneling to the right hand till he broke through the rock outside
+his fence.
+
+Then he began to hang things up against the side of the cave, and he
+even made shelves, and a door for the outside entrance. This was a
+very difficult job, and took him a long time; for, to make a board, he
+was forced to cut down a whole tree, and chop away with his axe till
+one side was flat, and then cut at the other side till the board was
+thin enough, when he smoothed it with his adze. But in this way, out
+of each tree he would only get one plank. He made for himself also a
+table and a chair, and finally got his castle, as he called it, in
+very good order.
+
+With all his care, however, there was one thing that he forgot, and
+that was, when he had made the cave so much bigger, to prop it, so as
+to keep the roof from falling in. And so one day he got a terrible
+fright, and was nearly killed, by a huge bit of the soft rock which
+fell and buried many of his things. It took weeks of hard work
+afterwards to clear away the fallen rubbish, and to cut beams strong
+enough to prop the roof.
+
+Every day, all this time, he used to climb up the hill and look around
+over the lonely waters, hoping, always hoping, that some morning he
+might see the sails of a ship that would take him home. But none ever
+came, and sometimes the tears ran down his cheeks because of the
+sorrow he felt at being so utterly alone. At times even, he thought in
+his misery that if he only had any kind of a boat, it would be better
+to sail away, and chance reaching other land, rather than to stop
+where he was. By and by, however, he grew less unhappy, for he had
+plenty of work to do.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE EARTHQUAKE AND HURRICANE; AND HOW ROBINSON BUILT A BOAT
+
+
+Now about this time, when Robinson had been some months on the island,
+heavy and constant rain began to fall, and sometimes weeks would pass
+without a single dry day. He found that instead of there being spring,
+summer, autumn, and winter, as in England, the seasons in his island
+were divided into the wet and the dry. There was no cold weather, no
+winter. It chanced that just before this first rain began, Robinson
+had emptied out some refuse from bags which had once held rice, and
+other grain, and he had forgotten all about having emptied them. So he
+was very much astonished to find, some time afterwards, both barley
+and rice growing near his tent, in the shade of the rock. The ears,
+when ripe, he kept to sow again, and from this very small beginning,
+in the course of a few seasons, he had a great quantity of grain, both
+for food and for sowing. But this meant every year much hard work, for
+he had no plow nor harrow, and all the ground had to be dug with a
+clumsy spade, made from a very hard, heavy wood that grew on the
+island.
+
+At first Robinson could not grind the grain that he grew, nor make
+bread from it. If he could have found a large stone, slightly hollow
+on top, he might, by pounding the grain on it with another round
+stone, have made very good meal. But all the stones he could find were
+too soft, and in the end he had to make a sort of mill of hard wood,
+in which he burnt a hollow place, and on that he pounded the grain
+into meal with a heavy stick.
+
+Baking he did by building a big fire, then raking away the ashes, and
+putting the dough on the hot place, covered with a kind of basin made
+of clay, over which he heaped the red ashes. In this way very good
+bread can be made.
+
+Before the rainy season was over, and just after he had finished the
+fence round his tent, one day when Robinson was at work in the cave,
+all of a sudden the earth began to fall from the roof, and the strong
+props he had put in cracked in a way which frightened him terribly. At
+the same time there was a curious moaning, rumbling noise, that he
+could not understand. He rushed out, and so afraid was he that the
+roof was falling in, and that he should be buried, that he got over
+the fence and began to run.
+
+But he was even more frightened when he found that all the ground was
+shaking. Then he knew that this was an earthquake.
+
+Three times there came violent shocks; a huge rock about half a mile
+away fell with a great noise like thunder, and the sea was churned up
+as if by a whirlwind. Robinson was sick with the movement of the
+ground, and trembling with the dread of being swallowed by the earth
+as it cracked and gaped; and after the noise and shaking were over, he
+was too frightened to go back to his tent, but sat where he was, all
+the time expecting another shock.
+
+Suddenly a furious wind began to blow, tearing up trees by the roots,
+and lashing the water till nothing could be seen but foam and flying
+spray. The air was full of branches and leaves torn off by the
+hurricane, and birds in hundreds were swept helpless out to sea. In
+about three hours, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind fell, and
+there was a dead calm, followed by rain such as Robinson had never
+before seen, which soaked him to the skin, and forced him to return to
+the cave, where he sat in great fear.
+
+For long after this he was very uneasy, and made up his mind to shift
+his quarters as soon as he could find a better place for his tent. But
+the earthquake had one good result, for what remained of the wreck was
+again thrown up by the sea, and Robinson got more things out of it
+which were useful to him, and for days he worked hard at that. One
+day, too, when he was on his way to the remains of the ship, he came
+on a large turtle, which he killed, and this gave him plenty of good
+food, for besides the flesh, there were, inside the animal, many eggs,
+which she had come to the shore to lay in the sand, as is the habit of
+turtles, and which Robinson thought were even better than hen's eggs.
+
+Now a few days after he had got so wet in the heavy rain, though the
+weather was hot, Robinson felt very cold and shivery, and had pains
+all over his body, and at night he dreamed terrible dreams. The
+following day, and many days, he lay very ill with fever and ague, and
+hardly knew what he was doing. So weak was he, that he believed he was
+dying, and there was no one to give him water to quench his thirst,
+nor to help him in any way. His only medicine was rum, in which he had
+soaked tobacco. It was very nasty, and made him sick, but it also
+made him sleep for more than a whole day and a night, and he woke much
+better, and able to walk about a little, though for a fortnight he was
+too weak to work. From this illness he learned not to go out more than
+he could help during the rainy season.
+
+When he was again quite strong, Robinson started to explore the island
+better than he had yet done, and he found many things growing, of
+which he made great use afterwards, tobacco, sugar-cane, and all
+manner of fruits, among them grapes, which he used to dry to raisins
+in the sun in great quantities.
+
+Near the spot where the most fruit grew, he built a hut, and round it,
+for safety, he put a double fence made of stakes cut from some of the
+trees near at hand. During the next rainy season these stakes took
+root, and grew so fast that soon nothing of the hut could be seen from
+outside the hedge, and it made so good a hiding-place, that Robinson
+cut more stakes of the same kind, and planted them outside the fence
+around his first dwelling; and in a year or two that also was quite
+hidden from view. The twigs of this tree, too, were good for making
+baskets, of which he had been in great need.
+
+When he had finished all this work, he started again to go over the
+rest of the island, and on his way across, from a hill, the day being
+very clear, he saw high land a great way off over the water, but
+whether it was another island, or the coast of America, he could not
+be sure.
+
+When he reached the other side of his island Robinson found the beach
+covered with turtles in astonishing numbers, and he thought how much
+better off he would have been if he had been cast ashore here, for not
+only would the turtles have supplied him with plenty of food, but
+there were far more birds than on the part of the island where he had
+been living, and far more goats.
+
+During the journey back to his castle he caught a young parrot, which,
+after a long time, he taught to speak and to call him by his name. It
+was so long since he had heard any voice, that it was a comfort to
+listen even to a parrot talking.
+
+Now, the sight which Robinson had had of the far distant land raised
+in him again the great longing to get away from this island where he
+had been so long alone, and he wished greatly for a boat. He went over
+to the remains of the boat in which he and the others had tried to
+come ashore when their ship struck on the sand-bank, and which had
+been flung far up on the beach by the sea, and he worked for weeks
+trying to repair her and to get her into the water. But it was all of
+no use; he could not move her.
+
+Then, he thought, "I'll cut down a tree, and make a new boat." This he
+fancied would be easy, for he had heard how the Indians make canoes by
+felling a tree and burning out the inside. "If they can do it, then
+surely I can do it even better," he thought. So he looked about, and
+chose a huge tree which stood about a hundred yards from the water,
+and with great labor in about three weeks he had cut it down.
+
+Four months Robinson worked at this boat, thinking all the time of
+what he would do when he reached the far distant land, and much
+pleased with himself for the beautiful boat he was making. Day after
+day he trimmed and shaped it, and very proud he was when it was
+finished and lay there on the ground, big enough to carry twenty men.
+
+Then he started to get her into the water. But that was quite another
+thing. By no means in his power could he move her an inch, try as he
+might. She was far too big. Then he began to dig a canal from the sea
+to the boat; but before he had got much of that work done, he saw
+clearly that there was so much earth to dig away, that, without some
+one to help him, it must take years and years before he could get the
+water to the boat. So he gave it up, and left her to lie and rot in
+the sun and the rain--a great grief to him.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+ROBINSON BUILDS A SECOND BOAT, IN WHICH HE IS SWEPT OUT TO SEA
+
+
+By the time that Robinson had been four years on the island, all his
+clothes had become very ragged, and he had hardly anything that could
+be called a hat. Clothes he must have, for he could not go naked
+without getting his skin blistered by the hot sun, and he was afraid
+of getting a sunstroke if he went about without a hat.
+
+Now he had kept all the skins of the goats, and other animals, such as
+hares and foxes, that he had shot; and from these, after many
+failures, at last he made a hat and coat of goatskin, and a pair of
+short trousers, all with the hair outside, so as to shoot off the wet
+when it rained. The hat was very tall, and came to a sharp peak on
+top, and it had a flap which hung down the back of his neck. Robinson
+also, with much trouble, made of the skins an umbrella which he could
+open and shut; and if his clothes and his umbrella, and especially his
+hat, were not very good to look at, they were useful, and he could now
+go about in any weather.
+
+During the next five years nothing out of the common happened, and
+Robinson's time was mostly taken up with the getting of food, the
+yearly sowing and reaping of his crops, and the curing of his raisins.
+But towards the end of that time he made another attempt to build a
+boat, and this time he made one much smaller than the first, and
+though it took him nearly two years to finish, in the end he got her
+into the sea. She was not big enough for him to try to sail in to the
+far-off land that he had seen, and he used her only for cruising about
+the shores of his own island, and for fishing. In her he fixed a
+little mast, on which he rigged a small sail, made from a bit of one
+of the old ship's sails, and, using a paddle to steer with, he found
+that she sailed very well. Over the stern he fixed his big umbrella,
+to shade him from the sun, like an awning.
+
+Eager to go all round the island, one day Robinson put a lot of food
+on board, and, taking his gun, started on a voyage. All went well till
+he came to the east end of the island, where he found that a ledge of
+rocks, and beyond that a sand-bank, stretched out to sea for eight or
+nine miles. Robinson did not like the idea of venturing so far in a
+boat so small, and he therefore ran the boat ashore, and climbed a
+hill, to get a good view of the rocks and shoals before going near
+them. From the hill, he saw that a strong current was sweeping past
+the sand-bank, which showed just clear of the water, and on which the
+sea was breaking; but he thought there was an eddy which would swing
+him safely round the point, without bringing him near the breakers.
+However, that day and the next, there was a good deal of wind blowing
+in the direction contrary to the current, which, of course, raised a
+sea too big for a small boat, so Robinson stopped on shore where he
+was.
+
+On the third day it was calm, and he set off. But no sooner had he
+come abreast of the sand-bank than he found himself in very deep
+water, with a current running like a mill-race, which carried the boat
+further and further away from the land, in spite of all that he could
+do with his paddle. There was no wind, and the sail was useless.
+
+Now he gave himself up for lost, for the harder he worked, only the
+further away seemed the boat to be swept. The island was soon so far
+off that Robinson could hardly see it, and he was quite exhausted with
+the hard struggle to paddle the boat against the current. He was in
+despair, and giving up paddling, left the boat to drift where she
+would. Just then a faint puff of wind touched his cheek, and Robinson
+hurriedly hoisted his sail. Soon a good breeze blew, which carried him
+past a dangerous reef of rocks. Here the current seemed to divide, the
+part in which he now was began to swing round towards the island, and
+he plucked up heart again, and with his paddle did all he could to
+help the sail. Robinson felt like a man who is set free after he has
+been told that he must die; he could almost have wept for joy. Miles
+and miles he sailed, steadily getting nearer to the land, and late in
+the evening at last he got ashore, but on the other side of the point
+that he had tried to round in the morning. He drew up his boat on the
+shore of a little cove that he found, and when he had made her fast,
+so that the tide could not carry her away, there among the trees he
+lay down, and slept sound, quite worn out.
+
+In the morning he again got on board, and coasted along close inshore,
+till he came to a bay with a little river running into it, which made
+a very good harbor for the boat. Here he left her, and went on foot.
+
+Soon he found that he was not far from a spot that he had once before
+visited, and by afternoon he arrived at the hut which he called his
+country-house. Robinson got over the fence by the ladder, as usual,
+pulling it up after him, and then he lay down to rest in the shade,
+for he was still very weary from the hard work of the day before. Soon
+he fell asleep. But what was his surprise in a little time to be
+awakened by a voice calling, "Robin! Robin Crusoe! where are you?"
+
+At first he thought he was dreaming. But still the voice went on
+calling:
+
+"Where are you, Robin?"
+
+Up he jumped, trembling with fright and wonder, for it was so long
+since he had heard any voice but his own that he fancied it must be
+something more than human that he now listened to. But no sooner had
+he risen than he saw, sitting on the tree near to him, his parrot,
+which must have flown all the way from Robinson's other house, where
+it had been left. It was talking away at a great rate, very excited at
+again seeing its master, and Robinson hardly knew whether to be more
+relieved or disappointed that it was only the bird that had called
+him.
+
+For about a year after this Robinson kept to his own side of the
+island, and employed his time chiefly in working on his land, and in
+making dishes and pots of clay. These he had now learned to burn
+properly. Pipes, too, he made, and they were a great comfort to him,
+for he managed to cure very good tobacco from the wild plants that
+grew around. And as he feared lest his powder might begin to run
+short, he thought much over ways whereby he could trap goats for food,
+instead of shooting them. After many trials, the best plan, he
+decided, was to dig holes, which he covered with thin branches and
+leaves, on which he sprinkled earth, so that when anything heavy
+passed over, it must fall into the pit. By this means he caught many,
+and the kids he kept and tamed, so that in no great time he had quite
+a large herd of goats. These he kept in various small fields, round
+which from time to time he had put fences.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+ROBINSON SEES A FOOTPRINT ON THE SAND, FINDS A CAVE, AND RESCUES
+FRIDAY
+
+
+All this time Robinson had never gone near his canoe, but now the
+longing came on him to go over to where he had left her, though he
+felt that he should be afraid again to put to sea in her. This time,
+however, when he got to the hill from which he had watched the set of
+the current the day that he had been carried out to sea, he noticed
+that there was no current to be seen, from which he concluded that it
+must depend on the ebb and flow of the tide. Still, he was afraid to
+venture far in the canoe, though he stopped some time at his
+country-house, and went out sailing very often.
+
+One day when Robinson was walking along the sand towards his boat,
+suddenly, close to the water, he stopped as if he had been shot, and,
+with thumping heart, stood staring in wonder and fear at something
+that he saw. The mark of a naked foot on the sand! It could not be his
+own, he knew, for the shape was quite different. Whose could it be?
+
+He listened, he looked about, but nothing could he hear or see. To the
+top of a rising ground he ran, and looked all around. There was
+nothing to be seen. And though he searched everywhere on the beach for
+more footmarks, he found none.
+
+Whose footprint could it be? That of some man, perhaps, he thought,
+who might come stealing on him out from the trees, or murder him while
+he slept.
+
+Back to his house he hurried, all the way in a state of terror,
+starting every now and again and facing round, thinking he was being
+followed, and fancying often that a stump or a bush was a man, waiting
+to spring on him. That night he slept not at all, and so shaken was
+his nerve that every cry of a night-bird, even every sound made by an
+insect or a frog, caused him to start with fear, so that the
+perspiration ran down his brow.
+
+As day followed day, however, and nothing happened, Robinson began to
+be less uneasy in his mind, and went about his usual work again. But
+he strengthened the fence round his castle, and cut in it seven small
+loopholes, in which, fixed on frames, he placed loaded muskets, all
+ready to fire if he should be attacked. And some distance from the
+outside of the fence he planted a thick belt of small stakes, so that
+in a few years' time a perfect thicket of trees and bushes hid all
+trace of his dwelling.
+
+Years passed quietly, and nothing further happened to disturb
+Robinson, or to make him think more of the footprint that had
+frightened him so much. But he kept more than formerly to the interior
+of the island, and lost no chance of looking for good places to hide
+in, if he should ever need them. And he always carried a cutlass now,
+as well as his gun and a couple of pistols.
+
+One day it chanced, however, that he had gone further to the west of
+the island than he had ever done before, and, looking over the sea, he
+fancied that he saw, at a great distance, something like a boat or a
+long canoe, but it was so far off that he he could not be sure what it
+was. This made him determine that always in future he would bring with
+him to his lookout-place the telescope which he had saved from the
+wreck.
+
+The sight of this supposed boat brought back his uneasiness to some
+extent, but he went on down to the beach, and there he saw a sight
+which filled him with horror. All about the shore were scattered men's
+skulls and bones, and bits of burnt flesh, and in one place were the
+remains of a big fire. Robinson stood aghast, feeling deadly sick. It
+was easy for him to know the meaning of the terrible sight. It meant
+that cannibals had been there, killing and eating their prisoners; for
+when the natives of some parts of the world go to war, and catch any
+of their enemies, it is their habit to build a fire, then to kill the
+prisoners and feast on their roasted bodies, eating till they can eat
+no more. Sometimes, if the man they are going to eat is too thin, they
+keep him, and feed him up, till they think he is fat enough.
+
+Now Robinson knew all this, though he had never yet met any cannibals.
+And when he looked around he saw many bones lying about. They were so
+old that it seemed certain to him that all those years he had been
+living on an island which was a regular place for the natives to come
+to for such feasts. Then he saw what a mercy it was that he had been
+wrecked on the other side of the island, to which, he supposed, the
+cannibals never came, because the beach was not so good for them to
+land on.
+
+Full of horror, Robinson hurried back to his house, and for almost two
+years he never again came near that part of the island where the bones
+lay, nor ever visited his boat. But all the time he kept thinking how
+he might some day kill those cannibals while they were at their feast,
+and perhaps save some of the poor men whom they had not yet killed.
+
+Now one day when Robinson was down in the bottom of the valley,
+cutting thick branches to burn for charcoal, he cleared away some
+undergrowth at the foot of a great rock, in which, near the ground,
+there was a sort of hole, or opening. Into this hole Robinson
+squeezed, not very easily, and found himself in a cave of good size,
+high enough, at least, to stand up in. It was quite dark, of course,
+to him coming in from the sunlight, and he turned his back to the
+entrance to feel his way further in, when suddenly, from the back of
+the cave he saw two great fiery eyes glaring at him. His very hair
+bristled with fright, for he could only think that it must be the
+Devil at least that he saw; and through the mouth of the cave he fled
+with a yell.
+
+But when he got into the bright sunshine he began to feel ashamed of
+his panic, and to reason with himself that what he had seen must be
+only his own fancy. So, taking up a big burning branch from his fire,
+in he went again.
+
+Before Robinson had taken three steps he stopped, in almost as great a
+fright as at first. Close to him he heard a great sigh, as if of some
+one in pain, then a sound like a muttering, as of words that he could
+not understand; again another deep sigh. Cold sweat broke out all over
+him, and he stepped back trembling, yet determined this time not to
+run away.
+
+Holding his torch well over his head, he looked around, and there on
+the floor of the cave lay a huge old he goat, gasping for breath,
+dying, seemingly of mere old age.
+
+He stirred him with his toe to see if he could get him out of the
+cave, but the poor beast could not rise, and Robinson left him to die
+where he was.
+
+Now that he had got over his fright, Robinson looked carefully about
+him. The cave was small, not more than twelve feet across at its
+widest, but he noticed at the far end another opening. This was so low
+down, however, that he had to creep on his hands and knees to get in,
+and without a better light than the burning torch, he could not see
+how far it went. So he made up his mind to come again.
+
+Robinson had long before this made a good supply of very fair candles
+from the tallow of the goats he had killed, and next day he returned
+to the cave with six of these, and his tinder-box to light them with.
+In those days there were no matches, and men used to strike a light
+with a flint and steel, and tinder, which was a stuff that caught fire
+very easily from a spark.
+
+Entering the cave, Robinson found, on lighting a candle, that the goat
+was now dead. Moving it aside, to be buried later, he went down on his
+hands and knees, and crawled about ten yards through the small
+passage, till at last he found himself in a great chamber, the roof of
+which was quite twenty feet high. On every side the walls reflected
+the light of his candle, and glittered like gold, or almost like
+diamonds, he thought. The floor was perfectly dry and level, even on
+the walls there was no damp, and Robinson was delighted with his
+discovery. Its only drawback was the low entrance; but, as he decided
+to use the cave chiefly as a place to retreat to if he should ever be
+attacked, that was in reality an advantage, because one man, if he had
+firearms could easily defend it against hundreds.
+
+At once Robinson set about storing in it all his powder, except three
+or four pounds, all his lead for making bullets, and his spare guns
+and muskets. When moving the powder, he thought he might as well open
+a barrel which had drifted ashore out of the wreck 'after the
+earthquake, and though water had got into it, there was not a great
+deal of damage done, for the powder had crusted on the outside only,
+and in the inside there was about sixty pounds weight, quite dry and
+good. This, with what remained of the first lot, gave him a very large
+supply, enough to last all his life.
+
+For more than two-and-twenty years Robinson had now been in the
+island, and he had grown quite used to it, and to his manner of
+living. If he could only have been sure that no savages would come
+near him, he felt almost that he would be content to spend all the
+rest of his days there, to die at last, as the goat he found in the
+cave had died, of old age.
+
+At times, when his spirits were more than usually low, when the burden
+of the lonely years pressed most heavily upon him, Robinson used to
+think that surely if the savages could come to his land, he could go
+to theirs. How far did they come? Where was their country? What kind
+of boats had they? And so eager to go was he sometimes, that he forgot
+to think of what he would do when he got there, or what would become
+of him if he fell into the hands of the savages. His mind was utterly
+taken up with the one thought of getting to the mainland, and even his
+dreams were of little else.
+
+One night, when he had put himself almost into a fever with the
+trouble of his mind, he had lain long awake, tossing and moaning, but
+at last he had fallen asleep. And he dreamed, not as he had usually
+done of late, that he was sailing to the mainland, but that as he was
+leaving his castle in the morning he saw on the shore two canoes and
+eleven savages landing, and that they had with them another man, whom
+they were just about to kill and eat, when suddenly the prisoner
+jumped up and ran for his life. And in his dream Robinson fancied that
+the man came running to hide in the thicket round the castle, and that
+thereupon he went out to help him. Then in the dream, the savage
+kneeled down, as if begging for mercy, and Robinson took him over the
+ladder into the castle, saying to himself, "Now that I've got this
+fellow, I can certainly go to the mainland, for he will show me what
+course to steer, and where to go when we land." And he woke, with the
+joyful feeling that now at last all was well. But when he was wide
+awake, and knew that it was only a dream after all, poor Robinson was
+more cast down than ever, and more unhappy than he had been during all
+the years he had lived on the island.
+
+The dream had, however, this result; that he saw his only plan to get
+away was, if possible, to rescue some day one of the prisoners whom
+the cannibals were about to kill, and in time get the man to help him
+to navigate his canoe across the sea.
+
+With this idea, he set himself to watch, more closely than ever he had
+done before, for the savages to land, and during more than a year and
+a half he went nearly every day to his lookout-place, and swept the
+sea with his telescope, in the hope of seeing canoes coming. But none
+came, and Robinson was getting terribly tired of the constant watch.
+Still he did not give up, for he knew that sooner or later the savages
+would land again.
+
+Yet many months passed, and still they did not come, till one morning,
+very early, almost to his surprise, he saw no fewer than five canoes
+hauled up on the shore on his own side of the island. The savages who
+had come in them were nowhere to be seen. Now, he knew that always
+from four to six men came in each canoe, which meant that at least
+twenty, and perhaps as many as thirty men had landed.
+
+This was a greater number than he cared to face, so he kept inside his
+castle, in great doubt what to do, but ready to fight, in case they
+should attack him.
+
+When he had waited a long time and still could hear nothing of the
+savages, he climbed up his ladder and got to the top of the rock,
+taking great care not to show himself against the skyline. Looking
+through his glass, he saw that there were at least thirty savages,
+dancing wildly round a fire.
+
+As he looked, some of the men left the others, and going over to the
+canoes dragged from' them two prisoners. One of these almost at once
+fell forward on his face, knocked down from behind, as it seemed to
+Robinson, with a wooden club, and two or three of the cannibals at
+once cut him open to be ready for cooking, while for a moment or two
+they left the other prisoner standing by himself.
+
+Seeing a chance of escape, the man made a dash for his life, running
+with tremendous speed along the sands straight for that part of the
+beach near Robinson's castle.
+
+Now this alarmed Robinson very much, for it seemed to him that the
+whole of the savages started after the prisoner. He could not help
+thinking it likely that, as in his dream, this man would take shelter
+in the thicket round the castle, in which case Robinson was likely
+soon to have more fighting than he would relish, for the whole body of
+the cannibals would be on him at once.
+
+As he watched the poor man racing for life, however, he was relieved
+to see that he ran much faster than his pursuers, of whom only three
+continued to run after him. If he could hold out for another mile or
+two there was little doubt that he would escape. Between the castle
+and the runners was the creek up which Robinson used to run his rafts
+from the wreck, and when the escaped prisoner came to that, he plunged
+in, and though the tide was full, with less than thirty powerful
+strokes he reached the other side, and with long easy strides
+continued his run. Of the men in pursuit, two also plunged in and swam
+through, but less quickly than the man escaping, being more blown with
+running, because of what they had eaten before starting. The third man
+stopped altogether, and went back the way he came.
+
+Seeing the turn things were taking, it seemed to Robinson that now had
+come his chance to get a servant, and he resolved to try to save the
+life of the man who was fleeing from the cannibals. At once he hurried
+down the ladder, snatched up his two guns, and running as fast as he
+could, got between the man and his pursuers, calling out to him at the
+same time to stop. The man looked back, and the sight of Robinson
+seemed to frighten him at first as much as did the men who were trying
+to catch him. But Robinson again spoke, and signed to him with his
+hand to come back, and in the meantime went slowly towards the other
+men, who were now coming near. Then, rushing at the foremost, he
+knocked him senseless with the butt of his gun, for it seemed to him
+safer not to fire, lest the noise should bring the other cannibals
+around.
+
+The second man, seeing his comrade fall, hesitated, and stopped, but
+Robinson saw when nearer to him that the savage had in his hands a bow
+and arrow with which he was just about to shoot. There was then no
+choice but to fire first, which Robinson did, killing the man on the
+spot.
+
+Thereupon the man who had been chased by the others was so terrified
+by the flash and noise of the gun, and at seeing his enemy fall dead,
+that he stood stock still, trembling, and it was with great difficulty
+that Robinson coaxed him to come near. This at last he did, stopping
+every few paces and kneeling down. At length, coming close to
+Robinson, he again knelt, kissed the ground, and taking hold of
+Robinson's foot, set it on his head as it rested on the sand.
+
+While this was going on, Robinson noticed that the savage whom he had
+knocked down had begun to move, and to come to his senses. To this he
+drew the attention of the man whom he had rescued, who said some words
+that Robinson could not understand, but which sounded pleasant to an
+ear that had heard no voice but his own for more than twenty-five
+years. Next he made a motion with his hand, as if asking for the
+cutlass that hung at Robinson's belt, and when the weapon was given to
+him he ran at his enemy, and with one clean blow cut off his head.
+Then, laughing, he brought the head, and laid it with the cutlass at
+Robinson's feet.
+
+But what caused most wonder to the man was how the savage whom
+Robinson shot had been killed at so great a distance, and he went to
+look as the body, turning it over and over, and looking long at the
+wound in the breast that the bullet had made, evidently much puzzled.
+
+Robinson then turned to go away, beckoning to the savage to follow,
+but the man made signs that he would bury the two bodies in the sand,
+so that the others might not find them if they followed. With his
+hands he soon scraped holes deep enough to cover the bodies, and in
+less than a quarter of an hour there was hardly a trace left of what
+had happened.
+
+Calling him away, Robinson now took him, not to his castle, but to the
+cave, where he gave him food and water; and then he made signs for him
+to lie down and rest, pointing to a bundle of rice straw.
+
+Soon the man was sound asleep. He was, Robinson thought, a handsome
+and well-made man; the muscles of his arms and back and legs showed
+great strength, and all his limbs were beautifully formed. As near as
+Robinson could guess, he was about twenty-six years of age, with a
+good and manly face, and long black hair. His nose and lips were like
+those of a European, and his teeth were white and even. In color he
+was not black, but of a sort of rich chocolate brown, the skin shining
+with health, and pleasant to look upon.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+ROBINSON TRAINS FRIDAY, AND THEY BUILD A LARGE BOAT; THEY RESCUE TWO
+PRISONERS FROM THE CANNIBALS
+
+
+In a little while Robinson began to speak to him, and to try to teach
+him things. First he made him understand that his name was to be
+"Friday" (that being the day of the week when Robinson had saved him
+from a horrible death). Then he taught him the meaning of "Yes," and
+"No," and to call Robinson "Master."
+
+Friday showed great quickness in learning. He seemed to be happy and
+contented, and free from trouble, except that the clothes which
+Robinson made him wear gave him at first great discomfort, for in
+those warm parts of the world the natives are not used to clothes, but
+always go about naked.
+
+The day following that on which Robinson had saved Friday, they went
+out together to see if there were any signs of the cannibals still
+being on the island, but it was evident that they had gone away
+without troubling about the two men whom Robinson had killed.
+
+For some time Robinson did not trust Friday, and did not allow him to
+sleep in the same part of his castle with himself, but kept him at
+night in a little tent outside the fence.
+
+Friday was quite faithful, never sulky nor lazy, but always merry, and
+ready to do anything that Robinson told him.
+
+At first when they went out in the woods together, Friday was
+terrified each time that Robinson's gun was fired. He had never seen
+anything like it, and it was more than he could understand how things
+could be killed merely by the noise and the flash of fire.
+
+Friday told Robinson much about his country, and about his people, who
+he said were Caribs. And a great way "beyond the moon," by which he
+meant to the west, he said that white men lived who had beards such as
+Robinson wore. These white men, he said, had killed very many natives,
+from which Robinson fancied that they must be Spaniards, who about
+that time were very cruel to the people whose countries they had
+taken.
+
+Robinson asked if Friday could tell him how he might get over to where
+the white men lived, and Friday said it would be very easy, if they
+had a big canoe, and again Robinson began to make plans and to hope to
+escape from the island.
+
+Some time after this Robinson and Friday chanced to be on the high
+hill at the east end of the island. The day was very clear. Friday
+gazed long over the sea, and then began to jump and dance, pointing to
+the dim blue coast. "There my country! See! There my people live!" he
+said, his eyes sparkling with joy, and an eager light on his face.
+
+After this, for a time Robinson was not easy in his mind about Friday.
+He had little doubt that if he could get back to his tribe, he would
+soon forget all he had been taught, might even return with a hundred
+or two of his friends, and kill and eat his master. But in this
+Robinson was very unjust to Friday, who had no such thoughts in his
+mind as those of which he was suspected. And this Robinson soon found
+out. One day he asked Friday if he would not be glad to be once more
+in his own land.
+
+"Yes" said Friday; "very glad."
+
+"Would you eat man's flesh again?"
+
+"No, never," said Friday.
+
+Then Robinson asked why he did not go back. Friday said he would go if
+Robinson came too.
+
+Then Robinson, who thought if he could reach other white men, he would
+finally reach England, began to build a boat in which to leave the
+island. Together he and Friday went to work to fell a tree, and Friday
+soon showed that he knew far better than Robinson the kind of tree
+best suited for boat-making. Robinson showed him how to use tools, and
+in a little more than a month the boat was finished. After the boat
+was put into the water, Robinson was astonished at Friday's skill in
+paddling so large a canoe.
+
+"Will she do to go over in?" he asked, and Friday, grinning, said,
+"Yes, even if big wind blow." But Robinson did not mean to depend on
+paddling, and fitted the boat with a mast, sails and rudder.
+
+Twenty-six years had passed since Robinson came to the island, and he
+still went on digging and sowing. One morning he sent Friday down to
+the beach for a turtle. Back he came in a great hurry, crying out,
+"Master! Master! over yonder, one, two, three canoe." Loading his
+guns, Robinson gave them to Friday to carry, while he armed himself
+with muskets, a cutlass, and a hatchet.
+
+When all was ready he went up the hill with his telescope, and saw
+that there were in all twenty-one savages, with three prisoners, one
+of whom was a white man.
+
+Robinson knew the savages had landed on the island to kill and eat
+their prisoners, so he resolved to prevent them if possible. To get at
+the savages without being seen, they had to go nearly a mile out of
+their way, and being heavily laden they could not go very fast.
+Reaching the place, they saw, from behind a clump of bushes, the white
+man bound hand and foot on the sand. There was no time to lose, and
+their first shot killed three and wounded five of the savages.
+Snatching up fresh guns, both fired again, before the savages who were
+not hurt could get on their feet, for they were so taken by surprise,
+that the poor wretches hardly knew what was happening. This time only
+two dropped, but many more were wounded.
+
+While Friday kept on firing, Robinson ran to the white prisoner and
+cut his bonds. The man said he was a Spaniard and began to thank
+Robinson for what he had done. Robinson handed him the cutlass and a
+pistol, telling him, if he had any strength left, to go and do what he
+could against the savages. As soon as the man got the weapons in his
+hands, he ran with fury at the cannibals and cut two down, and with
+equal fury attacked the rest. With the Spaniard to help them, Robinson
+and Friday were soon able to clear the place of these dreadful
+cannibals, many of whom jumped into the sea.
+
+Friday advised Robinson to take a canoe and go after them lest they
+return with hundreds of others to avenge the death of their friends.
+So the two ran to the beach and began to shove off a canoe. But to
+their surprise, on the bottom of the canoe lay another prisoner, an
+old man, tied so hard, neck and heels, that even when his bonds were
+cut he could not move.
+
+No sooner did Friday look at him and hear him speak, than he began to
+dance and shout and laugh, and then kneeling down, rubbed noses with
+the savage (which is what these folks do instead of kissing each
+other), and he was so excited that for some time he could not explain
+what was the matter. As soon as he could speak, he told Robinson that
+the man whom they had found was his father.
+
+Both Friday's father and the Spaniard, who was worn out with fighting,
+had to be carried up to the castle.
+
+No cannibals were ever again known to visit this island.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+ARRIVAL OF AN ENGLISH SHIP; ROBINSON SAILS FOR HOME
+
+
+Soon after this Robinson had a long talk with the Spaniard, who told
+him how he and his comrades had been wrecked four years since, on that
+part of the coast where Friday's tribe lived. He said that they were
+well treated by the natives, but that they were put to very great
+straits now for want of clothes, that their powder was finished, and
+that they had lost all hope of ever getting back to their own country.
+He himself, he said, had been captured in one of the many small wars
+that are always taking place among the various tribes.
+
+It struck Robinson that it might be possible for him to get these men
+over to his island, provided that he could be sure of their good
+faith, and that when they came, they did not take the island from him
+by treachery. It was a risk, he thought, but then, if he got so many
+men, it would not be difficult to build a small ship that could carry
+them all to England.
+
+So he asked the Spaniard if he would promise, and if he thought he
+could get his comrades to take an oath that, if Robinson helped them,
+they would look on him as their captain, and would swear to obey him
+in all things. The Spaniard readily promised for himself, and said
+that he was sure his comrades would keep faith.
+
+It was arranged, therefore, that in about six months, when the next
+harvest was reaped, and there would be plenty of food for so many
+extra men, the Spaniard and Friday's father should go over to the
+mainland in one of the canoes which had been taken from the savages.
+
+Meantime, all hands set about the curing of very large quantities of
+raisins, and much other work was done to be in readiness for the
+coming of these men.
+
+When the harvest was reaped, Robinson gave the Spaniard and Friday's
+father each a musket and a supply of powder and bullets, and loaded
+the canoe with food, enough to last them and the others about a
+fortnight, and the two men set off for the mainland in fine weather,
+and with a fair wind.
+
+It was about eight days after this, and when Robinson had begun to
+look out for their return, that one morning very early, when Robinson
+was asleep, Friday came running in, shouting, "Master! Master! They
+come." Up jumped Robinson, and hurrying on his clothes, ran out.
+
+Looking towards the sea, he soon made out a sailing-boat making for
+the shore, coming from the south end of the island, but still some
+miles away. This was not the direction from which the Spaniard and his
+comrades would come, nor were they likely to be in a sailing-boat. So
+Robinson took his telescope, and went to the top of the hill to see if
+he could make out who were on board, before they landed.
+
+Hardly had he got on to the hill when he noticed a ship at anchor some
+distance from the shore. She looked like an English vessel, he
+thought, and the boat like an English long-boat.
+
+This was a wonderful sight to Robinson, but yet he was not easy in his
+mind. It was not a part of the world where an English ship was likely
+to come, because in those days they were nearly all Spanish vessels
+that traded in these seas, and the English and Spaniards were bitter
+enemies. What could an English ship be doing here? There had been no
+storm to drive her out of her course.
+
+Robinson feared that if she was English there must be something wrong
+about her. Perhaps, he thought, she was a pirate. So he was careful
+not to show himself or Friday.
+
+Presently, as he watched, he saw the men in the boat run her ashore
+and draw her up on the beach, about half a mile from his castle. When
+they had landed, he could easily see through his glass that they were
+Englishmen.
+
+There were eleven men, but three of them had their hands tied behind
+their backs, and were evidently prisoners. When the first four or five
+men had jumped ashore, they brought out these three, all the while
+ill-treating them, and behaving as if they meant to kill their
+prisoners. Friday was sure that they meant to eat them.
+
+Soon, without further harming the three men, the others scattered
+about among the trees near the shore, leaving the three sitting on the
+ground very sad-looking, but with their hands now untied.
+
+At the time the boat was run aground, it was just high-water, and the
+two sailors who had been left in charge of her, and who had evidently
+been drinking too much rum, went to sleep, and never noticed that the
+tide was going out. When they woke, the boat was high and dry, and
+with all the strength of the whole crew they could not move her,
+because the sand at that part of the beach was very soft. This did not
+seem to trouble any of them very much, for Robinson heard one of the
+sailors shout, "Let her alone, Jack, can't ye? She'll float next
+tide."
+
+All forenoon Robinson watched, and when the hottest time of the day
+had come, he noticed the sailors throw themselves down under the
+trees, and go to sleep, some distance away from the three prisoners.
+
+Then Robinson and Friday, taking their muskets and pistols, stole down
+cautiously behind the three men, to try to speak to them without the
+others knowing.
+
+Robinson had put on his goatskin coat and the great hairy hat that he
+had made for himself; and with his cutlass and pistols in his belt,
+and a gun over each shoulder, he looked very fierce.
+
+The men did not see him till he spoke, and they were so startled by
+his wild look, and by the sight of two men armed to the teeth, that
+they nearly ran away. But Robinson told them not to be alarmed; he was
+an Englishman, and a friend, and would help them if they would show
+him how it could be done.
+
+Then they explained to him what had happened. One of the three was
+Captain of the ship that lay at anchor off the island. Of the others,
+one was mate of the ship, and the third man was a passenger. The crew
+had mutinied, the Captain told Robinson, and had put him and the other
+two in irons, and the ringleaders in the mutiny had proposed to kill
+them. Now they meant to leave them on the island to perish.
+
+The Captain was so astonished at finding anybody there who proposed to
+help him, that he said in his wonder: "Am I talking to a man, or to an
+angel from heaven?"
+
+"If the Lord had sent an angel, sir," said Robinson, "he would
+probably have come better clothed."
+
+Then he asked if the boat's crew had any firearms, and was told that
+they had only two muskets, one of which was left in the boat. "The
+rest should be easy, then," Robinson said; "we can either kill them
+all, or take them prisoners, as we please."
+
+The Captain was unwilling to see the men killed, for he said if two of
+the worst of them were got rid of, he believed the rest would return
+to their duty.
+
+Robinson made a bargain that if he saved the Captain from the
+mutineers, and recovered the ship, he and Friday were to be taken home
+to England in her, free of cost; and to this the Captain and the
+others agreed.
+
+Then Robinson gave each of them a musket, with powder and ball, after
+which the Captain and the mate and the passenger marched towards the
+spot where the mutinous sailors lay asleep. One of the men heard them
+advance, and turning round, saw them, and cried out to his companions.
+But it was too late, the mate and the passenger fired, and one of the
+ringleaders fell dead. A second man also fell, but jumped up
+immediately and called to the others to help him. But the Captain
+knocked him down with the butt of his musket, and the rest of the
+men, seeing Robinson and Friday coming, and knowing they had no chance
+against five armed men, begged for mercy. Three others who had been
+straying about among the trees came back on hearing the shots, and
+were also taken, and thus the whole crew of the boat was captured.
+
+The Captain and Robinson now began to think how they might recover the
+ship. There were on board, the Captain said, several men on whom he
+thought he could depend, and who had been forced by the others into
+the mutiny against their wills. But it would be no easy thing to
+retake the ship, for there were still twenty-six men on board, and as
+they were guilty of mutiny, all of them, if taken back to England,
+would most likely be hanged. Thus they were certain to make a fight
+for it.
+
+The first thing that Robinson and the others now did was to take
+everything out of the boat--oars, and mast, and sail, and rudder; then
+they knocked a hole in her bottom, so that she could not float. While
+they were doing this, and drawing her still further up on the beach,
+they heard first one gun and then another fired by the ship as signals
+to the boat to return.
+
+As she of course did not move, Robinson saw through his glass another
+boat with ten men on board, armed with muskets, leave the ship, coming
+to bring the others back.
+
+This was serious enough, for now Robinson and his party had to make
+plans whereby they might capture also this fresh boat's crew.
+Accordingly, they tied the hands of all the men they had first taken,
+and sent the worst of them to the cave under the charge of Friday and
+of one of the men that the Captain said was to be trusted, with orders
+to shoot any who tried to give an alarm or to escape. Then Robinson
+took his party and the rest of the prisoners into the castle, where,
+from the rock, they watched for the landing of the second boat.
+
+The Captain and mate were very nervous, and despaired of taking this
+fresh body of men, but Robinson was quite confident of success, and
+put heart into them by his cheerfulness.
+
+Of the prisoners in his castle, there were two whom the Captain
+believed to be honest men, and on their promising solemnly to keep
+faith, and to fight for him, Robinson released them.
+
+The crew of the second boat, when they landed, were terribly
+surprised to find the first boat empty and stove in, and they were
+seen anxiously consulting what to do. Then they hallooed and fired
+volleys. Getting no reply, they were evidently alarmed, for they all
+jumped into their boat and began to pull off to the ship. In a few
+minutes, however, they seemed to change their minds, for again they
+landed, this time leaving three men in charge of the boat, and keeping
+her in the water. The other seven came ashore, and started in a body
+across the island to look for their lost comrades. But they did not
+care to go far, and soon stopped, again firing volleys and hallooing.
+Getting again no reply, they began to march back to the sea. Whereupon
+Robinson ordered Friday and the mate to go over the creek to the west
+and halloo loudly, and wait till the sailors answered. Then Friday and
+the mate were to go further away and again halloo, thus gradually
+getting the men to follow them away from shore.
+
+This plan succeeded very well, for when the sailors, thinking they
+heard their missing friends hail, ran to find them, their way was
+stopped by the creek, over which they had to get the boat to carry
+them. They took with them, then, one of the three men whom they had
+left in the boat, and ordered the others to moor the boat to a tree,
+and remain there.
+
+This was just what Robinson wanted. And, moreover, one of the men
+played still further into his hands, for he left the boat and lay down
+under a tree to sleep. On him the Captain rushed, and knocked him down
+as he tried to rise to his feet, whereupon the sailor left in the boat
+yielded, and more readily that he had joined the mutineers very
+unwillingly, and was now glad of the chance to rejoin his Captain.
+
+Meantime Friday and the mate, by hallooing and answering, drew the
+rest of the boat's crew from hill to hill through the woods, till at
+last they had got them so far astray that it was not possible for them
+to find their way back before dark. When they did get back to where
+the boat had been left, and found the men whom they had left in her
+gone, they were in a terrible fright.
+
+It was not difficult for Robinson and his men to surround them, and
+it chanced that the boatswain of the ship, who was the greatest
+villain of the lot, and the chief cause of all the trouble, walked in
+the darkness close to the Captain, who jumped up and shot him dead.
+The others then surrendered, believing what they were told, that they
+were surrounded by fifty armed men. All begged hard for their lives,
+and a few whom the Captain said he could trust were set at liberty on
+promising to help retake the ship. The others were bound and put in
+the cave.
+
+Robinson and Friday remained on shore to look after the prisoners,
+while the Captain and the mate and the passenger, with those of the
+crew who were trustworthy, having patched up the damaged boat, pulled
+off in her and in the other to the ship, which they reached about
+midnight. When they were a short distance off, the Captain made one of
+the crew hail the ship and say that they had brought off the boat and
+the men they had gone in search of. Then both boats ran alongside at
+once, one on each side of the vessel, and before the mutineers knew
+what was happening they were overpowered, one or two of them being
+killed. Only one of the Captain's party was hurt, the mate, whose arm
+was broken by a musket-ball.
+
+As soon as the ship was secured, the Captain ordered seven guns to be
+fired, that being the signal he had agreed to make to let Robinson
+know if he succeeded in taking the ship.
+
+Robinson's stay in the island had now come to an end, after more than
+twenty-eight years, for in a few days he and Friday sailed for England
+in the ship. Some of the mutineers were left on the island, and were
+afterwards joined by the Spaniard and his comrades, for whom Robinson
+left a letter.
+
+Robinson did not forget, when he left, to take with him the money and
+gold bars he had got from the wreck of the Spanish ship, and he took
+also, as a memento, the goatskin coat and the great hairy hat. But the
+Captain was able before the ship sailed to give him proper clothing,
+the wearing of which at first put him to dreadful discomfort.
+
+The voyage was a long one, but they sighted the English coast at last.
+
+It was thirty-five years since Robinson had set foot in England. And
+that morning, when at last, after the weary years of exile, he again
+saw his native land, he laid his head down on his arms and cried like
+a child.
+
+And, may be, you too some day may know the joy of coming home, out of
+the land of bondage.
+
+
+
+
+CANTERBURY TALES
+
+By GEOFFREY CHAUCER
+
+ADAPTED BY JANET HARVEY KELMAN
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+DORIGEN
+
+
+Once upon a time a young knight, whose name was Arviragus, dwelt in
+Brittany. In the same country lived a beautiful lady called Dorigen.
+And the knight loved the lady.
+
+For years Arviragus did not know whether she loved him or not. She was
+a great lady and very fair, and he was afraid to ask her. But she knew
+that he loved her, for when he rode past her window on his way to the
+wars, she could see her colors streaming from his helmet. At first she
+did not think much of this, for many knights fought for love of her;
+but as she heard of new and greater deeds that this noble knight did
+year by year, she began to care for him a great deal. When she thought
+of his goodness and of the honor in which he held her, she knew that
+there was no one else that she could love as she loved Arviragus. And
+when Arviragus knew that she loved him and was willing to be his wife,
+his heart was full of joy. So greatly did he wish to make Dorigen
+happy with him, that he said to her that he would obey her and do what
+she wished as gladly all his life as he had done while he was trying
+to win her love. To this she replied:
+
+"Sir, since in thy great gentleness thou givest me so high a place, I
+pray to God that there may never be strife between us two by any fault
+of mine. Sir, I will be thy true and humble wife until I die!"
+
+Then Arviragus took his bride home with him to his castle by the sea.
+He honored Dorigen as much as he had done before his marriage, and
+tried to fulfil her wishes in everything. Dorigen was just as eager to
+please Arviragus as he was to please her, and they were happy together
+in all their work and play.
+
+Arviragus stayed quietly at home for a year, but after that he grew
+restless. He felt that no true knight had a right to live on quietly
+at home, with nothing to do except to order his castle and to hunt. So
+he sailed away to England that he might win honor and renown in the
+wars there.
+
+Dorigen stood by the castle and watched his sails disappear in the
+north. Poor Dorigen! her husband was gone, and she did not know if he
+would ever come back to her. For weeks she wept and mourned. At night
+she could not rest, and by day she would not eat. All the things that
+she had cared most to do were now dull and worthless to her because
+Arviragus was away.
+
+Her friends saw her sorrow, and tried to comfort her in every way they
+could. When they found she would not be comforted, they spoke harshly
+to her, and told her that it was very wrong of her to kill herself
+with sorrow, when Arviragus hoped to come home again strong and
+famous. Then they began to comfort her again, and to try to make her
+forget her sadness.
+
+After a long time Dorigen's sorrow began to grow quieter. She could
+not have lived if she had always felt her grief as deeply as she did
+at first. Indeed, as it was, this sorrow would have broken her heart,
+if letters had not come from Arviragus. They brought her tidings of
+his doings, and of the glory he had won. But what comforted her most
+was that they told her that he would soon return.
+
+When Dorigen's friends saw that she was less hopeless, they begged her
+to come and roam with them to drive away the last of her dark fears.
+This she did. Often she walked with them by the edge of the cliffs on
+which her castle stood. But there she saw the white ships and the
+brown barges sailing, one north, another south, to the havens for
+which they were bound. Then she would turn away from her friends and
+say to herself:
+
+"Alas! of all the ships I see, is there never one that will bring my
+lord home? Then should I need no comfort. My heart would be cured of
+this bitter smart."
+
+At times as she sat and thought, she leaned down and looked over the
+brink of the cliffs. But, when she saw the grisly, black rocks, her
+very heart trembled within her. Then she would sink down on the grass
+and wail:
+
+"O God, men say Thou hast made nothing in vain, but, Lord, why hast
+Thou made these black, grisly rocks? No man nor beast is helped by
+them in all the world. Rocks have destroyed a hundred thousand men,
+and which of all Thy works is so fair as man? No doubt wise men will
+say, 'All is for the best.' But, oh Thou God, who makest the winds to
+blow, keep Thou my lord! And--would to God that these black rocks were
+sunk in the deep for his sake! They slay my heart with fear."
+
+Dorigen's friends saw that the sea brought back her sorrow. They led
+her then by rivers and springs, and took her to every lovely place
+they knew, from which there was no glimpse of the sea.
+
+In the valley, to landward of the castle, lay many beautiful gardens.
+One day in May, when the soft showers of spring had painted in
+brightest colors the leaves and flowers, they spent the whole day in
+the fairest of these gardens. They had games there, and they dined
+under a spreading tree. The breath of the fresh green leaves and the
+sweet scent of the flowers blew round them.
+
+After dinner they began to dance and sing--every one except Dorigen.
+She had no heart to sing, and she would not dance because, of all who
+joined in the dance, not one was Arviragus. But, though she would not
+dance, she watched her friends and sometimes forgot her sorrow for a
+little.
+
+Among the dancers there was a young squire named Aurelius. He was much
+beloved because he was young, and strong, and handsome. Men thought
+him wise and good, but he was not always wise and good.
+
+When the dancing was over, Aurelius came up to Dorigen and asked her
+to give him a beautiful jewel that she wore on her breast. He said to
+her, "Madam, of what use is thy jewel to thee when thou wearest it on
+thy bosom? Give it to me, and I will share with thee the price of it."
+
+Dorigen turned and gazed at him.
+
+"Is this what thou dost wish? I knew not what thou didst mean when
+thou didst look at me, but now I know. Listen, this is all I have to
+say to thee. I shall never part with my jewel, not though I were in
+rags and without food."
+
+Then she remembered how Arviragus had loved to see her wear her jewel,
+as she always did, on a chain of gold that he had given to her on her
+wedding day. She thought of the sea that separated him from her, and
+of the cruel black rocks, and said in play:
+
+"Aurelius, I will freely give thee my jewel when thou dost remove
+every rock on the shore from end to end of Brittany."
+
+Then her anger at the selfishness of Aurelius rose again, and she bade
+him begone.
+
+"Madam," he said, "it is impossible to move the rocks."
+
+With that word he turned away, and went home to his own house. There
+his brother Austin found him in a trance, for Aurelius wished
+Dorigen's jewel more than he wished anything else on earth, and the
+thought that he could not get it made him so sad that he became dazed.
+Austin carried him to bed, and tried to soothe him in his grief and
+vexation.
+
+The jewel that Aurelius wished to get from Dorigen was no common one.
+It had been given to her at her birth. It was clear as crystal, but
+far more rare, and it shone in the daylight like the sun. When Dorigen
+was a little child her mother told her of this wonderful stone. She
+told her that it would bring her joy and peace and the love of all who
+were good and true, if she kept it bright and pure; but that, if she
+ever gave it away, she would lose her youth and her beauty, and would
+be hidden away from all her friends and left alone in the world.
+
+Dorigen shuddered at the thought of parting with her jewel. She did
+not know how her mother's words could come to pass, if she did give it
+away, nor by what magic power she could be so lost that no one who
+loved her could find her again. But she was sure that what her mother
+had said must be true.
+
+And that was why Dorigen was so angry with Aurelius. She knew that he
+must have heard what sorrow she would suffer if she gave him her
+jewel, for all the court knew the story of the wonderful stone.
+
+Not long after this, Arviragus came home. He had won more honor than
+before, and was now the very flower of chivalry. I cannot tell you how
+great the joy was, with which he greeted Dorigen, nor how soon she
+forgot her fears of the sea and the grisly rocks.
+
+For two years, while they lived a joyful life together, Aurelius lay
+in bed unable to rise, with no one to take care of him except his
+brother Austin. This brother mourned over Aurelius in secret and wept
+at his unhappy fate, till one day he remembered a book of magic that
+he had seen when he was a student in Orleans. In that book he had read
+of the strange ways in which Magicians can make things seem what they
+are not. His heart leapt up. He said to himself, "My brother shall be
+cured. I am sure I have heard of stranger things than that the rocks
+should seem to vanish. Once I heard of a Magician who made every one
+believe that a great brown barge was rowing up and down a sheet of
+water inside the hall of a castle! If he could do that, then surely we
+shall be able to find a Magician who will make those black rocks seem
+to vanish. Then Dorigen will have to keep her promise and give
+Aurelius her wonderful jewel."
+
+Austin then ran to his brother's room and told him about the book of
+magic at Orleans. No sooner had Aurelius heard him than he leapt out
+of bed. In less time than one would think possible he was ready to
+start on the long ride to Orleans.
+
+When they came near the city they met a Magician. They knew him to be
+a Magician because of the strange look in his eyes, and because of his
+curious dress. When they rode up to him he bowed before them and
+wished them "Good day." Then he began to tell them why they had come
+to Orleans. Aurelius wondered how it was that this stranger knew so
+much about him and his errand. He thought he must be a very wise man
+indeed, and leaping from his horse in surprise and joy, he went home
+with the Magician to his house. His brother went too.
+
+The house was the finest that Aurelius had ever seen. When he entered
+the study he looked in wonder at the rows of books that lined the
+walls, and at the quaint pictures and the strange old armor.
+
+In one corner a curious light burned. It was not like the light of a
+lamp or of a candle, but cold and blue. Above it hung a map of the
+stars, and other strange drawings. Below the light stood a table, and
+on it lay a great book which was chained to the wall.
+
+Austin saw Aurelius look at this book. He whispered to him, "It is the
+same book from which I read long ago."
+
+This corner with its blue light made Aurelius frightened. A shudder
+passed over him when he saw the Magician cross over into the circle of
+the light and wave his wand.
+
+In a moment Aurelius forgot all about the Magician and his own fear,
+for he and his brother saw before them the edge of a forest with a
+park stretching from the trees far, far away.
+
+The sun shone, and the branches waved a little in the breeze. In the
+park the brothers saw herds of deer. Beautiful animals they were, with
+the highest antlers deer ever had. At first the deer fed in peace and
+safety. Then archers, clad in green, came to the edge of the forest.
+They glided out and in among the trees to see where they could best
+take aim with their arrows. When the archers had let their arrows fly,
+hounds broke out from behind them, and soon there was not one living
+deer of all the herd left in sight.
+
+In a moment a calm river flowed where the park had been. In the
+shallow water at the river's edge tall herons stood. They watched for
+the little fishes that swam in the river. Again, into this quiet place
+a hunter came. He had no arrows. He had no dogs. But on his wrist he
+had an iron bracelet to which one end of a chain was fastened. The
+other end of the chain was round a hawk's foot, and the hawk sat on
+his master's wrist. When the hunter came near the river he loosed the
+chain from the bird's foot. The hawk flew over the river and swooped
+down among the herons. In a moment they had all vanished.
+
+Aurelius had scarcely time to sigh, when the river itself was gone,
+and a plain lay where it had been. There he saw the knights of King
+Arthur's Table jousting. Beautiful ladies sat and watched the
+struggle, and one more fair than all held the prizes the knights might
+win.
+
+Then the figures of the knights began to grow dim and uncertain. The
+plain changed into a great hall where knights and ladies danced.
+Everything was bright and sparkling. Mirrors lined the walls, and
+their cut edges flashed back the light that fell on them. As Aurelius
+watched the dance, he started. There, before him, more beautiful than
+ever, was Dorigen. His heart gave a great leap, for, as he watched
+her, he saw that she no longer wore her jewel. In his delight he
+swayed to the music of the dance. Clap! clap! went the Magician's
+hands, and all was gone.
+
+The great room that had seemed so splendid to Aurelius when he entered
+it, looked cold and plain now when he returned to it from fairyland.
+
+The Magician called his servant and asked for supper. Then he led the
+brothers away and feasted them royally.
+
+After supper the three men began to talk about what the Magician
+should get from Aurelius if he made the rocks vanish. The Magician
+said, "I cannot take less than a thousand pounds, and I am not sure if
+I can do it for that!" Aurelius was too delighted to bargain about
+what the cost would be. He said gladly: "What is a thousand pounds? I
+would give thee the whole round world, if I were lord of it. The
+bargain is made. Thou shalt be paid in full. But do not delay. Let us
+start to-morrow morning without fail."
+
+"Thou mayest count on me to-morrow," said the Magician.
+
+They went to bed, and Aurelius slept soundly and well; because of the
+hope he had that the Magician would make the rocks vanish.
+
+Next morning they rose early. It was Christmas time, and the air was
+cold and frosty as they rode away. The very sunlight was pale, and the
+trees were bare. When they reached home the neighbors gathered round
+and wished them a Merry Christmas. "Noel, Noel," they said, but they
+would not have done so had they known what sorrow the riders brought
+to their beautiful lady Dorigen.
+
+For many days the Magician worked with his maps and figures. Aurelius
+waited impatiently. There was nothing for him to do except to make the
+Magician as comfortable as he could, and to show him as much kindness
+as possible.
+
+One morning Aurelius looked from his window towards the sea. He saw
+the Magician standing on the shore. As Aurelius gazed out to sea, the
+rocks vanished from north to south. His heart stood still. Then he
+rushed out and away to the edge of the cliffs for fear some rocks
+might still lie close to the land. But no, there was not one.
+
+He went to meet the Magician and fell at his feet with the words,
+"Thanks to thee, my lord, thanks to thee, my cares are gone!"
+
+After he had thanked the Wise Man, he hurried away to meet Dorigen.
+When he saw her he trembled. She was so pure and beautiful. His heart
+sank. Then he looked out to sea and saw the smooth surface of the
+water, and he grew selfish again.
+
+Dorigen came quietly on. She had not noticed that the rocks had
+vanished, for Arviragus was safe on land, and she did not fear the sea
+any more. She had almost forgotten Aurelius and his selfish, greedy
+words. It was more than two years since she had seen him, and she had
+not heard of him since then.
+
+She started back when he greeted her. Before she had time to speak he
+said, "My lady, give me thy jewel."
+
+He saw Dorigen's face grow cold and angry, and said, "Think well lest
+thou break thy word, for, madam, thou knowest well what thou didst
+say. In yonder garden in the month of May thou didst promise to give
+me thy jewel when I should move the rocks. I speak to save thine
+honor. I have done as thou didst command me. Go thou and see if thou
+wilt, but well I know the rocks are vanished."
+
+He left her then. She stood still, white and sick. She had never
+dreamt that such a trap as this could close on her.
+
+"Alas," she said, "that such a thing could happen! I never thought a
+thing so strange and unheard-of could come to pass!"
+
+Home she went in sadness and dismay. She was so weak with fear that
+she could scarcely walk. She had to suffer her sorrow alone for three
+days, for Arviragus was away, and she would tell no one but him. Her
+ladies saw her distress, but they could not comfort her. To herself
+she moaned, "Alas, O Fortune, I lay the blame on thee; thou hast so
+bound me in thy chain, that I see no help nor escape save only in
+death."
+
+Arviragus came home on the third day after the rocks had vanished. He
+came at night, so he noticed nothing strange about the shore. Though
+every one was talking of the curious thing that had happened, no one
+liked to tell him. They knew he would not like to hear of it. He would
+think his country was bewitched.
+
+Arviragus looked for Dorigen in the hall. When he could not see her
+there, he hurried to her room, to make sure that she was safe and
+well. As he sprang up the broad staircase, the sheath of his sword and
+the spurs at his heels clanked harshly on the stone steps.
+
+Dorigen heard him, but, instead of going to meet him, she buried her
+head deeper in her cushions and wept. Arviragus crossed the room to
+where she sat, and knelt before her. He drew her hands from her eyes
+and said, "Dorigen, what is it? Why dost thou weep like this, my
+beloved?"
+
+For a little time Dorigen's tears only fell the faster, then she said
+brokenly: "Alas, that ever I was born! I have said it! Arviragus! I
+have promised!"
+
+"What hast thou promised, my wife?"
+
+Then Dorigen told Arviragus all that had happened; told him that she
+had promised to give her jewel to Aurelius when he would take all the
+rocks away.
+
+Arviragus leapt up and went to the window. The moon had burst through
+a cloud, and everything was bright and clear. He looked away north, as
+Dorigen had so often looked to watch for his coming. In the moonlight
+Arviragus saw the sea lie smooth and cold. His eyes swept the skyline.
+It seemed as as if all the rocks had sunk into his heart, it was so
+heavy.
+
+He turned towards Dorigen, and saw how great was her sorrow.
+
+Then he said very gently: "Is there aught else than this, that thou
+shouldst weep, Dorigen?"
+
+"Nay, nay, this is indeed too much already," she sighed.
+
+"Dear wife," he said, "something as wonderful as the sinking of the
+rocks may happen to save us yet. God grant it! But whether or not,
+thou must keep thy troth. I had rather that my great love for thee
+caused me to die, than that thou shouldest break thy promise. Truth is
+the highest thing that man may keep."
+
+Then his courage broke down, and he began to sob and weep along with
+Dorigen.
+
+Next morning he was strong and brave again. He said to Dorigen, "I
+will bear up under this great sorrow."
+
+He bade her farewell, and she set out with only a maid and a squire to
+follow her.
+
+Arviragus could not bear to see Dorigen as she went down from the
+castle, so he hid himself in an inner room. But some one saw her go
+out. It was Aurelius. For three days he had watched the castle gate to
+see what she did, and where she went. He came forward and said,
+"Whither goest thou?"
+
+Dorigen was almost mad with misery, but she said bravely, "To thee, to
+keep my troth, and give my jewel to thee, as my husband bids me. Alas!
+alas!"
+
+Aurelius was full of wonder when he heard this. He began to be sorry
+for Dorigen, and for Arviragus the worthy knight, who would rather
+lose his wife than have her break her word. He could be cruel no
+longer.
+
+"Madam," he said, "say to thy lord Arviragus that since I see his
+great honor and thy sad distress, I had rather bear my own sorrow than
+drive thee away from him and all thy friends. I give thee back thy
+promise. I shall never trouble thee more. Farewell, farewell! thou
+truest woman and best that I have ever seen."
+
+Down on her knees, on the roadway, fell Dorigen to thank Aurelius. Her
+blessing followed him as he turned and left her.
+
+But how can I tell of Dorigen's return? She seemed to be treading on
+air. When she reached the room where her husband sat with his head
+sunk on his arms, she paused. She had not known the greatness of his
+love till then. He looked old and forlorn after the night of sorrow.
+
+She spoke, and he raised his eyes to gaze on her, as if she had been a
+lady in a dream. But when she told him all, when he knew that she was
+there herself, and for always, he could not speak for joy.
+
+Aurelius wished he had never been born when he thought of the thousand
+pounds of pure gold that he owed to the Magician.
+
+He said to himself, "What shall I do? I am undone! I must sell my
+house and be a beggar. I will not stay here and make my friends
+ashamed of me, unless I can get the Magician to give me time. I will
+ask him to let me pay him part of my debt year by year till all is
+paid. If he will, my gratitude will know no bounds, and I will pay him
+every penny I owe."
+
+With a sore heart he went to his coffer and took out five hundred
+pounds of gold. These he took to the Wise Man, and begged him to grant
+him time to pay the rest.
+
+"Master," said he, "I can say truly, I never yet failed to keep a
+promise. My debt shall be paid to thee, even if I go begging in rags.
+But if thou wilt be so gracious as to allow me two years, or three, in
+which to pay the, rest, I will rejoice. If not, I must sell my house;
+there is no other way."
+
+When the Magician heard this he said, "Have not I kept my promise to
+thee?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, well and truly!"
+
+"Hast thou not thy jewel?"
+
+"No, no," said Aurelius, and sighed deeply.
+
+"Tell me, if thou mayest, what is the cause of this?"
+
+"Arviragus in his honor had rather die in sorrow and distress than
+that his wife should break her word. Dorigen would rather die than
+lose her husband and wander alone on the earth. She did not mean to
+give me her promise. She thought the rocks would never move. I pitied
+them so much that I gave her back her promise as freely as she brought
+her jewel to me. That is the whole story!"
+
+The Magician answered, "Dear brother, you have each behaved nobly.
+Thou art a squire, he is a knight, but by God's grace I can do a noble
+deed as well as another. Sir, thou art free from thy debt to me, as
+free as if thou hadst this moment crept out of the ground, and hadst
+never known me till now. For, sir, I will not take a penny from thee
+for all my skill, nor for all my work. It is enough! Farewell! Good
+day to thee!"
+
+Whereupon the Magician bowed once and again, mounted his horse, and
+rode away.
+
+Dorigen and Arviragus were walking on the cliffs as the Magician
+parted from Aurelius. They noticed the two men, and when the horseman
+rode away they saw a strange white mist rise from the sea and follow
+the rider.
+
+Dorigen caught her husband's arm, for there, there, out at sea, and
+close by the cliffs, were the rocks, grisly and black and fearsome as
+before. The sunlight fell on her jewel, and it shone more brightly
+than of old, nor did its light ever grow dim in all the happy years
+that followed.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+EMELIA
+
+
+Emelia the Radiant lived in a great castle in Athens.
+
+Hippolyta, Emelia's sister, had once been queen of the Warrior Women,
+and had led her armies to battle. But Emelia had never fought in these
+battles. When she was still a child, Duke Theseus of Athens had fought
+with Hippolyta and conquered her. Instead of sending his royal captive
+to prison, Theseus married her, and took her home to Athens with him.
+When he took her there, he took Emelia with her. He was very kind to
+them both, and the castle in Athens was a happy home for Hippolyta and
+her little sister.
+
+As Emelia grew up she became most beautiful. She was more graceful
+than a lily on its stem, and the flush on her cheeks was more delicate
+than the hue of the rose-petals in the old Greek castle garden. Her
+golden hair fell in heavy masses round her face, and lay in a great
+plait down her back. It caught all the light that fell on it, and sent
+it out again to make glad the hearts of those who looked on her. So
+men called her Emelia the Radiant, and all who met her smiled for joy
+at the sight of so beautiful a maid.
+
+One May morning Emelia went into the castle garden to bathe her face
+in the early dew. Everything was dim and gray in the twilight. She
+looked up at the great dungeon tower which overshadowed the garden,
+and thought of the two young princes who were prisoners there. Duke
+Theseus had brought them from Thebes. He was very proud of them, and
+would not give them up, although the people of their land offered to
+give him gold and jewels for their ransom. The princes were cousins,
+and were the last of the royal line of Thebes. In the stillness Emelia
+murmured their names to herself, "Palamon and Arcite, Palamon and
+Arcite. How miserable they must be in their narrow cell!" she thought.
+Then she sighed that life should be so sad for them while it was so
+bright for her!
+
+As she roamed up and down and gathered roses white and red to make a
+garland for her hair, the sun broke through the mist and shone into
+the garden. Once more she raised her eyes to the tower. This time she
+did not look at it, but at the sunlit clouds beyond. The light from
+the east fell on her. Her hair shone like gold, and her face was
+radiant with happiness.
+
+Palamon at that moment came to the narrow iron-barred window through
+which alone he and his cousin could see the sky and the fields and the
+city. He saw the morning light fall on the fair buildings of Athens,
+and on the plains and hills beyond. Then a glad song which burst from
+Emelia's happy heart floated up to him. He looked down. Before him
+stood the maiden bathed in sunlight.
+
+She seemed to him the very Spirit of Beauty. He thought of all the joy
+and life and freedom that he could never have. He started back from
+the window and cried aloud.
+
+His cousin Arcite sprang from his couch and said, "My cousin, what
+aileth thee? I pray thee that thou bear our imprisonment in patience.
+Sad it is in truth, but we must abide it. We can do nought else."
+
+But Palamon said: "Thou art mistaken. Prison walls drew not that cry
+from me. An arrow hath entered my heart through mine eye, and I am
+wounded. What life can give is bound up for me in the fairness of a
+maiden who roams in yonder garden. Be she Spirit or woman I know not!
+But this I know, was never woman nor Spirit half so fair before."
+
+"Spirit of Beauty," he cried, "if thou choosest to take the form of a
+radiant woman here before me in this garden, pity my wretchedness!
+Save us from this prison, and if that may not be, have pity on our
+country and help our fallen friends."
+
+Arcite pressed forward and leant over Palamon's shoulder. The window
+was only a narrow slit, and the wall through which it was cut was
+thick, so it was not easy for Arcite to see into the garden. At last
+he caught a glimpse of Emelia.
+
+"Oh, how lovely she is!" he said. "I shall die of my wish to serve
+her. Most beautiful of maidens she is, truly."
+
+When Palamon heard this, he turned on Arcite, looked coldly at him and
+asked, "Sayest thou so in earnest or in jest?"
+
+"Nay, truly in earnest, my cousin; I have little will to jest!"
+
+Palamon looked fiercely at him and said, "Little honor to thee then!
+Hast thou forgotten thine oath of truest brotherhood to me, and mine
+to thee? Hast thou forgotten thy promise to help me in all I do? How,
+then, canst thou dream of claiming to love my lady? This thou shalt
+not do, false Arcite! I loved her first, and told thee, and thou must
+help me to win her if ever we escape. Thine honor demands this of
+thee. Otherwise thou art no true knight."
+
+But Arcite drew himself up scornfully and said, "Rather it is thou
+that art false! A moment ago thou didst not know whether she were
+maiden or Spirit! I loved her first for what she is, and told thee as
+my brother! But even if thou hadst loved her first, could I, because
+of that, refuse to love the fairest of maidens? Besides, why should we
+strive? Thou knowest too well that thou shalt never win her smile, nor
+yet shall I! These prison walls so thick and black leave no hope for
+us. We fight as did the fabled dogs for the bone. They fought all day,
+yet neither won. There came a kite while they raged, and carried off
+the bone. Love thou the maid if thou wilt. I shall love her till I
+die."
+
+The prison had been narrow and bare and cold before, but now it seemed
+ten times more dismal. The world from which it shut them in was so
+much more sweet because of the maiden who dwelt there, and the
+friendship for each other which had cheered them through many evil
+days was broken.
+
+But Emelia the Radiant sang her gay songs and stepped lightly among
+the flowers, with never another thought of the weary eyes that watched
+her.
+
+One day the greatest friend that Duke Theseus of Athens had, came to
+see him. This friend had known Arcite in Thebes, and had loved the
+handsome boy. He begged Theseus to forgive him, and to let him go
+free. Theseus was glad to find something he could do to please his
+dear friend, so one morning he took him with him to the prison where
+Palamon and Arcite were. The attendants could scarcely follow, for the
+royal robes filled all the dingy little space! A streak of light from
+the window fell on the Duke's mantle and his jewels. They looked
+strangely bright in that dark room beside the faded clothes of the two
+young prisoners.
+
+Arcite and the friend of Theseus greeted each other joyously, and the
+heart of Arcite beat wildly with hope, but when he heard the words of
+Theseus the Duke it sank like lead.
+
+"Arcite," said he, "by the desire of my friend, I grant to thee thy
+freedom. I grant it on one condition only. Thou must wander away far
+beyond my kingdom. If ever thou art seen for one moment on any
+furthest corner of my land, that moment shall be thy last. By the
+sword thou shalt die."
+
+Homeward to Thebes sped Arcite with a sad heart.
+
+"Woe is me for the day that I was born!" he moaned; "woe is me that
+ever I knew the friend of Theseus! Had he not known me, I might even
+now be gazing on the maiden I serve, from the window in the Duke's
+tower. Ah, Palamon, thou art the victor now! Day by day thou gazest on
+her, and kind fortune may grant to thee thy freedom and her favor
+while I am banished for ever! Ah, why do we complain against our
+fortune? We know that we seek happiness, but know not the road
+thither! Think how I dreamt and longed for freedom, and thought that
+if I were only out of prison my joy would be perfect. Behold, my
+freedom is my banishment, and my hope my undoing!"
+
+As for Palamon, when he saw that Arcite was gone, he made the great
+tower walls re-echo with his howls of misery. The very fetters on his
+ankles were wet with his salt tears.
+
+"Alas," he groaned, "Arcite, my cousin, thou hast borne off the prize
+in this strife of ours! Thou walkest now at liberty in Thebes. Little
+thou thinkest of me and of my sorrow! Strong thou art, and wise.
+Doubtless thou art even now gathering together the people of Thebes to
+invade this land and win the sister of the Duke for thy wife, while I
+die here in this prison like a caged lion. The prison walls heed my
+weeping and my wailing not at all."
+
+He could not even rejoice in the sight of Emelia when she walked in
+the garden, so fearful was he lest Arcite should win her.
+
+Meanwhile Arcite passed his days in Thebes in grief. He wandered about
+alone, and wailed and made moan to himself. He cared not to eat, and
+sleep forsook him. His spirits were so feeble that the sound of music
+brought fresh tears to his eyes. He grew gaunt and thin, and his voice
+was hollow with sadness.
+
+At last, when he was nearly dazed with sorrow, he dreamt one night
+that a beautiful winged boy with golden curls stood before him. "Go
+thou to Athens," said the boy; "the end of all thy sorrow awaits thee
+there!"
+
+Arcite started up wide awake and said, "I will to Athens, to my lady.
+It were good even to die in her presence."
+
+He caught up a mirror. He had not cared to look in one for many
+months, but now that he meant to return to his lady, he wished to see
+if he looked strong and young as ever. At first he was shocked to see
+how great a change had passed over his face. Then he thought, "If I do
+not say who I am, I may live unknown in Athens for years. Then I shall
+see my lady day by day."
+
+Quickly he called to him a squire, and told him all his will, and
+bound him to keep his name a secret and to answer no questions about
+himself or his master. Then Arcite sent his squire to find clothes
+such as the laborers in Athens wore. When he returned, Arcite and he
+put on the clothes and set out by the straight road to Athens.
+
+In Athens no one took any notice of the two poor men.
+
+Before they came to the castle the squire left his master and found a
+house to live in, where he could do Arcite's bidding at any time. But
+Arcite hurried on to the courtyard gate. There he waited till the
+master of the servants who waited on Emelia came out. Then he said to
+him, "Take me, I pray thee, into thy service. Drudge I will and draw
+water, yea, and in all thou dost command I will obey."
+
+The master of the servants asked Arcite what was his name.
+"Philostrate, my lord," said Arcite, and as "Philostrate" he entered
+that part of the castle where Emelia's home was.
+
+He could hew wood and carry water well, but he was not long left to do
+such rough work. The master of the house saw that whatever he trusted
+to Philostrate's care was rightly done, so he gave him less humble
+work to do, and made him a page in the house of Emelia. The lords and
+ladies of the castle began to notice what a gentle and kind page this
+Philostrate was. They spoke to Theseus about him, and said that he
+deserved to have a higher place that he might show his goodness and
+courage in knightly deeds. To please them, Theseus made him one of his
+own squires.
+
+Seven years passed away, and Palamon was still in prison. This year,
+however, in the May-time, a friend of his, who heard where he was,
+helped him to escape. During the short night he fled as fast as he
+could, but when the early dawn began to break he strode tremblingly to
+a grove of trees, that he might hide there all day. When the darkness
+fell once more he meant to go on again to Thebes, there to gather his
+old armies to make war on Theseus. He wished either to win Emelia or
+to die. He cared little for his life if he might not spend it with
+her.
+
+As Palamon lay beside a bush in the grove, he watched the sunbeams
+drying up the dew drops on the leaves and flowers near him, and
+listened to the joyous song of a lark that poured forth its welcome to
+the morning.
+
+The same lark that Palamon heard awakened Arcite. He was now the chief
+knight in the Duke's house, and served him with honor in peace and
+war. He sprang up and looked out on the fresh green fields. Everything
+called to him to come out. He loosed his horse from the stall and
+galloped over hill and dale. He came to the edge of a grove, and tied
+up his steed to a tree. Then he wandered down a woodland path to
+gather honeysuckle and hawthorn to weave a garland for himself. Little
+he thought of the snare into which he was walking. As he roamed he
+sang--
+
+  "O May, of every month the queen,
+  With thy sweet flowers and forests green,
+  Right welcome be thou, fair fresh May."
+
+The grove was the one in which Palamon lay beside a pool of water.
+When he heard the song of Arcite, cold fear took hold on him. He did
+not know that it was Arcite who sang, but he knew that the horse must
+belong to a knight of the court, and he crouched down to the ground
+lest he should be seen and taken back to prison.
+
+Soon Arcite's joyous mood passed away, and he grew sorrowful. He
+sighed and threw himself down not far from the spot where Palamon lay.
+
+"Alas, alas!" said Arcite, "for the royal blood of Thebes! Alas that I
+should humbly serve my mortal enemy! Alas that I dare not claim my
+noble name, but must be known, forsooth, as Philostrate, a name worth
+not a straw! Of all our princely house not one is left save only me
+and Palamon, whom Theseus slays in prison. Even I, free though I am,
+am helpless to win Emelia. What am I to her but an humble squire?"
+
+Palamon was so angry when he heard this, that he forgot his own
+danger. He started out from his hiding-place and faced Arcite.
+
+"False Arcite," he cried, "now art thou caught indeed! Thou hast
+deceived Duke Theseus and hast falsely changed thy name, hast thou?
+Then surely I or thou must die. I will suffer no man to love my lady,
+save myself alone. For I am Palamon, thy mortal foe. I have no weapon
+in this place, for only last night did I escape from prison. Yet I
+fear thee not. Thou shalt die, or thou shalt cease to love my lady.
+Choose as thou wilt!"
+
+Then Arcite rose up in his wrath and drew his sword. He said, "Were it
+not that thou art ill and mad with grief, and that thou hast no
+weapon here, thou shouldest never step from where thou standest. I
+deny the bond thou claimest! Fool! how can I help thee to win the lady
+I fain would wed myself? But because thou art a worthy knight and a
+gentle, and art ready to fight for thy lady, accept my promise.
+To-morrow I will not fail to wait for thee here without the knowledge
+of any other. Also I will bring armor and weapons for thee and me, and
+thou shalt choose of them what thou wilt, ere I arm myself! Food and
+drink will I bring to thee this night into the grove. If so be that
+thou slay me here to-morrow, then indeed thou mayest win thy lady if
+thou canst!"
+
+Then Palamon answered, "Let it be so."
+
+Next morning Arcite rode to the wood alone. He met Palamon on the
+woodland path where the flowers he had gathered the day before lay
+withered on the ground. No word nor greeting passed between them, but
+each helped to arm the other in silence. As the buckles were tightened
+and the armor slipped into its place, the color came and went in the
+faces of the two princes. They deemed that this would be the last of
+all fights to one of them.
+
+When they were ready they fenced together for a little, and then the
+real fight began. So fierce was it that the men seemed like wild
+animals in their rage. Palamon sprang at Arcite like a strong lion,
+and Arcite glanced aside and darted at him again like a cruel tiger.
+In the midst of this they heard a sound of the galloping of horses
+that brought the royal hunters to the spot. In a moment the sword of
+Theseus flashed between the fighters, and his voice thundered out,
+"Ho! no more, on pain of death. Who are ye who dare to fight here
+alone, with none to see justice done?"
+
+The princes turned and saw Theseus, Duke of Athens. Behind him rode
+Hippolyta with her sister, Emelia the Radiant, and many knights and
+ladies.
+
+Palamon answered the Duke's question swiftly, before Arcite had time
+to speak. "Sire, what need of words? Both of us deserve death. Two
+wretches are we, burdened with our lives. As thou art a just judge,
+give to us neither mercy nor refuge, but slay us both. Thou knowrest
+not that this knight, Philostrate, is thy mortal foe, whom thou hast
+banished. He is Arcite, who hath deceived thee for that he loveth
+Emelia. And I too love her. I too am thy mortal foe, for I am Palamon,
+and I have broken from my prison. Slay us then, here before fair
+Emelia."
+
+"That is easily granted," said Theseus. "Ye judge yourselves. Ye shall
+die."
+
+Then the queen began to weep, and Emelia too. They were sad to think
+that these two princes should die so young, and all for the service
+they wished to do to the queen's sister.
+
+The other ladies of the court begged the Duke to forgive the fighters.
+"Have mercy, sire," they urged, "on us women, and save the princes!"
+
+At first Theseus was too angry to listen to them, but soon he thought
+that he would have done as the princes had done, if he had been in
+their place, so he said, "Arcite and Palamon, ye could both have lived
+in peace and safety in Thebes, yet love has brought you here to Athens
+into my power, who am your deadly foe. Here then for the sake of
+Hippolyta, my queen, and of Emelia the Radiant, our dear sister, I
+forgive you both. Promise never to make war on my land, but to yield
+me your friendship evermore." Joyfully the princes promised this, and
+thanked the Duke for his grace.
+
+Then Theseus said, "Both of you are noble. Either might wed Emelia the
+Radiant, but she cannot wed you both. Therefore I appoint a tournament
+in this place a year hence. Come here then, ye Princes of Thebes, each
+of you, with a hundred knights of the bravest, and that one of you,
+who shall slay or capture the other, he shall wed Emelia."
+
+Whose face could be brighter than was Palamon's when he heard those
+words, and who could step more lightly than did Arcite? Every one
+thanked the Duke for his kindness to the princes, while they rode off
+to Thebes with high hopes and light hearts.
+
+When the day of the tournament came, great buildings stood in a circle
+on the plain beside the grove. Within them stretched an immense arena
+in which the knights must fight. Great marble gates opened on to the
+space at either side.
+
+Palamon and Arcite found it easy to bring a hundred knights to Athens.
+So splendid were the preparations for the tournament that every one
+was eager to fight in it.
+
+Emelia alone was sad as the day of the fighting came nearer. Her
+maidens heard her say, "Oh that I might not wed at all! I love the
+free life of the woods. I love to hunt, and to ride, and to roam. Why
+cannot Palamon and Arcite love each other as they used to do long ago,
+and leave me free?"
+
+On the morning of the tournament Duke Theseus and his queen sat with
+Emelia on a high seat overlooking the lists. When the trumpet sounded,
+Arcite and his knights rode in through the western gate. His red
+banner shone bright against the white marble pillars. At the same
+moment Palamon entered from the east, and his white banner floated out
+against the blue sky.
+
+Soon the heralds ceased galloping up and down, and the whole space was
+left to the warriors.
+
+The trumpets sounded "Advance," and the fray began. Through the bright
+sunshine they fought, advancing here, and beaten back there, till at
+last Palamon was hurled from his horse and taken prisoner.
+
+The trumpets sounded, and all stood still while Theseus called out,
+"Ho! no more. All is over. Arcite of Thebes khall wed Emelia." Then
+the people shouted till it seemed that the great marble gates would
+fall.
+
+In the eagerness of the fight Emelia had begun to like the warriors
+who fought for her, and her liking grew ever stronger as they showed
+their worth. When Arcite rode towards her with glowing face she was
+proud of him, and leant forward to welcome him gladly.
+
+But as he galloped, his horse started aside and he was thrown to the
+ground. He was too much hurt to rise. So he was lifted by his knights
+and carried to the palace. There he was cared for in every way, but
+nothing could save him.
+
+Before he died, he called for Emelia and Palamon.
+
+"No words can tell the sorrow I bear because I must leave thee, my
+lady! Alas, death tears me from thee! Farewell, my wife! farewell, my
+Emelia! Ah, take me softly in thine arms, and listen while I speak!
+For years I have had strife with my dear cousin Palamon. Yet now I say
+to thee, in all this world I never have met with one so worthy to be
+loved as Palamon, that hath served thee, and will serve thee, his life
+long. Ah, if ever thou dost wed, let it be Palamon!"
+
+His voice began to fail. "Emelia!" he said, and died.
+
+Emelia mourned sadly for her valiant knight. As for Palamon, all his
+old love for Arcite came back, and he wept for him as bitterly as he
+had bewailed his own sorrow in the dungeon.
+
+When all the Greeks had ceased to mourn for Arcite, Palamon still
+grieved for the death of his friend, and for the strife that had been
+between them.
+
+After two years Theseus sent one day for Palamon and Emelia. Palamon
+came to the court in his black robes of mourning; but Emelia was
+dressed in white, as she had been on the May morning in the garden
+years before. She had ceased to mourn for Arcite, and was Emelia the
+Radiant once more.
+
+Palamon caught his breath. He had not seen her since they parted after
+Arcite's death.
+
+Duke Theseus said, "Sister, I desire thee now to take the noble knight
+Palamon to be thy husband. Have pity on his long service, and accept
+him."
+
+Then he said to Palamon, "It will not need much speech to gain thy
+consent! Come, take thy lady by the hand."
+
+Then, in the presence of all the court, they were wed. When all was
+over, Emelia fled from the noise and tumult of the hall, and beckoned
+to Palamon to follow. Out at the great hall doors she led him, and
+down the pathway to the garden beneath the tower. When he joined her,
+she pointed to the dungeon window, and told him of the day when she
+had looked at the prison in the morning mist, and murmured to herself
+the names of the captive princes, "Palamon and Arcite, Palamon and
+Arcite."
+
+But it was not till many years of joyous life had passed over their
+home that Palamon told Emelia that he had seen her first on that very
+morning when she had thought so sadly of his misery.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+GRISELDA
+
+
+Once upon a time there lived a fair young girl whose name was
+Griselda. Her home was in an Italian village. There she dwelt in a
+lowly cottage with her father, Janicola. He was too old and weak to
+work for her, or even for himself.
+
+All round the village lay the fruitful fields and vineyards of the
+plain, and on the slopes near grew olive-trees laden with fruit. Far
+in the distance rose the snow-capped mountains of the North.
+
+Even in so rich a land it was not easy for this young Griselda to make
+her father's life as pleasant as she would have wished it to be. She
+lived plainly and barely. She was busy all day long. Now she was
+herding a few sheep on the broken ground near the village, and
+spinning as she watched her flock. Again she fetched the water from
+the well or gathered roots and herbs from which to make drugs.
+
+Griselda was not unhappy though her life was hard, because she was so
+glad that she could serve her father and show her love to him,
+forgetting about herself and her own wishes.
+
+One day as she sat watching her sheep her eyes fell on the white
+towers of a castle that stood not far from the village where she
+lived. It was the castle of the Marquis Walter, who was lord of all
+that land. Griselda looked kindly at the white towers. She thought
+that their master was the best and greatest man in the world. She knew
+that he was kind also, and courteous. When she saw him ride towards
+her, her face lighted up, and she rose to courtesy to him. She hoped
+he would draw up his horse beside her, and greet her, and ask for her
+father Janicola.
+
+This morning, as she looked at the castle, she saw a company of men
+hurrying along the road that led to its gate. Farmers were there in
+dull and homely clothes, and knights in armor that flashed back the
+sunlight, and lords in gay colors that glanced and gleamed among the
+olive-trees under the blue Italian sky.
+
+Griselda knew why they were going to Lord Walter, and she wondered
+what they would do and say when they reached him. She could not go
+after them, for her sheep would have wandered away if she had left
+them.
+
+When the men that Griselda had watched reached the courtyard gate,
+they met Lord Walter. He was on horseback ready for the hunt. The
+foremost of the company prayed him to grant them a little time that
+they might tell him why they had come.
+
+Lord Walter threw the reins to a squire, and led his people into the
+great hall of the castle. There he seated himself in state to listen
+to their grievance whatever it might be.
+
+Then the same man who had spoken before said to him:
+
+"Noble Marquis, thy generous kindness in times past giveth us courage
+to come before thee. Truly, sire, thou and all thou dost art so dear
+to us that, save in one thing, we cannot wish for better fortune than
+to live under thy government. One thing alone disturbs the peace of
+thy faithful people. Though thou art young and strong, yet age creeps
+on! Time flies and waits for no man. Death threatens young and old
+alike. We pray thee, sire, that thou wilt wed, for if swift death
+should lay thee low ere a son be born to thee, then alack for us and
+for our children! In the power of a stranger then would lie our fair
+lands and even our lives. Grant us this boon, noble Marquis, and, if
+thou wilt, we will choose for thee a wife. Noble shall she be, and
+good, so that thou shalt have honor and gladness in thy wedding."
+
+Then the Marquis said:
+
+"My people, loyal and true, ye ask of me that which I thought not to
+grant, for the free life of the forest and the hunt pleaseth me well.
+Yet will I do this thing that ye desire. Only to me myself must fall
+the choice of her whom I will wed. On you I lay this command that, be
+she who she may, yet shall ye honor her as if she were an Emperor's
+daughter through all her life. Nor shall ye raise one word against the
+maiden of my choice. Unless ye agree to this, I will not wed!"
+
+Gladly the people promised. But ere they left the Marquis, they begged
+him to fix a day for the marriage lest he should put off too long. The
+Marquis granted their request, and farmers, knights, and lords trooped
+joyfully home.
+
+When the morning of the day that was fixed for the wedding came, the
+castle of the Marquis was gaily decorated. Flags floated out from the
+towers, and garlands trailed over the doorway and the gate. Within in
+the great hall a royal feast was spread, and there lay royal robes and
+gems.
+
+In the courtyard and on the terraces lords and ladies stood in groups.
+Wonder and doubt were on every face. The wedding-feast was prepared,
+the guests were come, but there was no bride.
+
+A trumpet sounded "to horse," and all was hurry and noise. Then Lord
+Walter rode out through the castle gate. He was followed by bearers,
+who carried the beautiful robes and gems that had lain in the hall.
+
+They rode out by the same road along which Griselda had watched the
+people go to ask the Marquis to wed, many months before. Now she saw
+the bridal train ride down from the castle. "Ah," she said, "they ride
+this way to fetch the bride. I shall work more busily than ever to-day
+that I may be free to stand and watch Lord Walter's fair bride as the
+riders return with her to the castle!"
+
+Then she went to the well to fetch water. When she came back she found
+Lord Walter at her father's door. In the narrow lane beside the
+cottage stood lords and ladies, while their horses impatiently pawed
+the ground.
+
+Quickly Griselda set her pitcher in a trough near the cottage door,
+and knelt before the Marquis to hear his will.
+
+"Where is thy father?" Lord Walter asked.
+
+"Close at hand, my Lord," said Griselda, and went to bring him without
+delay.
+
+"My faithful servant," said Lord Walter to the old man, "grant me thy
+daughter for my wife!"
+
+Janicola knew not what to say for surprise. At last he answered, "My
+will is thine! Do as thou wilt, my own dear Lord!"
+
+"Then must I ask Griselda if she will be my wife; but stay thou by us.
+Thou shalt hear her answer."
+
+Griselda was amazed. She did not know what the meaning of Lord
+Walter's visit was, and when she stood before him her face was full
+of fear. Her wonder was very great when she heard him say:
+
+"Griselda, I am come for thee. Thee only will I wed. Thy father also
+is willing. But ere thou tell me whether or no thou wilt be my bride,
+listen to the demand I make. Art thou ready to obey me in everything,
+and to let me do to thee evil or good as I will without so much as
+turning to me a frowning face?"
+
+This seemed a strange request to Grisdda, but she loved and trusted
+Lord Walter so truly that she said:
+
+"Lord, I am not worthy of this honor. Verily in all things thy will
+shall be mine. Life is sweet, but I will die rather than displease
+thee."
+
+"Enough, Griselda!" he said.
+
+Then Lord Walter turned to the courtiers and the people of the village
+who had gathered round:
+
+"Behold my wife! Let all show their love to me by the honor and love
+they bear to her."
+
+The ladies of the court were commanded to take off Griselda's old
+clothes and to array her in the costly robes they had brought with
+them. They did not like to touch the poor soiled clothes she wore, nor
+to move about in the little cottage with their sweeping gowns; but the
+gentleness of Griselda made it pleasant to help her. They caught up
+Griselda's royal robes with great clasps of gold set with gems, and
+put a crown on her beautiful hair.
+
+She came out and stood in the low doorway, where she had so often
+stood before. But now the people scarcely knew her: she looked so fair
+in her new robes and with the love-light shining in her eyes.
+
+Lord Walter did not wait till he reached the castle. He was married to
+Griselda at her father's cottage door. The villagers gathered round
+and gazed at the simple wedding. They saw Lord Walter put a great ring
+on Griselda's finger, and lift her on to a milk-white steed. Then they
+led her with joy towards the castle. Wedding-bells rang out gladly
+across the plain, and ever as the wedding-party drew near to the white
+towers with their floating flags, happy bands of people came to meet
+and welcome Griselda.
+
+Very soon the fame of Lord Walter's beautiful wife spread through the
+land. Nor was it only for her beauty that men praised her. Gracious
+she was and wise, able to rule her home, and to bend fiery spirits to
+her will.
+
+From all the countryside men came to her in trouble. Every one
+rejoiced in the good fortune that had come to their land, and some
+even called her an angel from heaven come to right all wrong.
+
+After some time a daughter was born to Griselda. Then she thought she
+was the happiest woman in the world. She thought of the care that she
+would give her child as she grew up, and of Lord Walter's delight in
+his little daughter when the time should come that she could talk and
+ride with him.
+
+But before the baby was a year old, all Griselda's dreams were broken.
+Lord Walter said to himself, "It is easy for Griselda to keep her
+promise when I ask of her nothing that is not just and right. How can
+I trust her until I know that she will obey me in everything? I wonder
+whether she would be patient still if I hurt our little daughter."
+
+These thoughts came back to his mind so often that at last he resolved
+to try Griselda's patience by taking away her baby from her.
+
+One evening Griselda was playing with her little child. The baby
+laughed in her arms and looked sweeter than ever. At that moment the
+curtain at the doorway was drawn aside and Lord Walter came into the
+room. His face was sad and drawn, and as Griselda looked up at him she
+feared that some great blow had fallen on him, or that some enemy had
+entered the country.
+
+Lord Walter said to her:
+
+"Griselda, thou hast not forgotten the day on which I brought thee
+from thy father's lowly cottage to this my castle. Although thou art
+most dear to me, thou art not dear to my nobles. They say that it is
+hard that they should serve one so lowly born as thou. Since thy
+daughter was born they have said this more and more, I doubt not. As
+thou knowest, my will is to live with my people in joy and peace.
+Therefore must I do to my child not as I wish myself, but as my
+nobles wish. Show then to me the obedience that thou didst promise to
+show when thou wert wed in the village street."
+
+As Griselda heard these words she made no moan. Neither did she let
+the pain that caught at her heart be seen in her face. When she could
+speak, she said:
+
+"Lord, we are thine! My child is thine. I also am thine. With thine
+own thou mayest ever do as pleaseth thee best."
+
+The Marquis was full of joy because of the patience and humbleness of
+Griselda; but he appeared to be sad, and left her with a troubled
+face.
+
+Soon after this, Griselda started as she heard a heavy footstep on the
+stairway. Then an evil-looking man walked into the quiet room.
+
+"Madam," he said, "I must obey my lord's will. He bids me take this
+child. Thou knowest we must obey, although we may complain and mourn."
+
+Then the soldier took the child so roughly that it seemed as if he
+would kill it before her. Griselda said:
+
+"Pray, sir, do thou suffer me to kiss my child ere it die." He gave it
+back to her. Gently she gathered it in her arms. She blessed it, and
+lulled it, and kissed it. Then she said in her sweet voice: "Farewell,
+my child, I shall see thee never again. The blessing of Him who died
+on a cross of wood for us, rest on thee. To Him I give thy soul, my
+little one! To-night thou must die because of me."
+
+To the rough soldier she said:
+
+"Take again the child and obey my Lord. But if it please my Lord, then
+of thy kindness bury thou the little body where no cruel bird nor
+beast can harm it!"
+
+But in silence the soldier carried away the child.
+
+Then Lord Walter looked to see if Griselda would fret or be less kind
+to him. He watched, but could see no change in her. She was as busy
+and loving and cheerful as ever. Neither in earnest nor in play did
+she name her child.
+
+After four years a son was born to Griselda. The people were very glad
+because there was now an heir to rule the land at the death of Lord
+Walter. Griselda too was happy, though her heart longed for the
+little maid who might have been playing with her brother.
+
+When the boy was two years old, Lord Walter began to wish once more to
+try the patience of Griselda.
+
+This time he said to her:
+
+"Wife, I have told thee before how ill the people bear our marriage.
+Now that a son is born they are more wrathful than before. My heart is
+weary with the thought of their complaints. They say, 'When Lord
+Walter is gone, the grandson of Janicola shall rule us!' Therefore I
+shall do with my son as I did with his sister. Be patient, I pray
+thee."
+
+"Thou art my Lord," said Griselda. "My will and my freedom lie in my
+father's cottage with the poor soiled clothes I left there on the day
+thou didst bring me hither. Could I know thy will before thou didst
+tell it to me, it would be done, though it were death to do it. Life
+cannot compare with thy love."
+
+Lord Walter looked down to the ground. He could not look at his wife
+lest he should not have heart to do as he wished.
+
+Again the rude soldier came to Griselda. He was even harsher than
+before, and carried off the child without a kind word to the patient
+mother.
+
+When the little boy was gone, the people said very bitter things about
+Lord Walter. The love they had given him before was turned into hatred
+because he had treated his beautiful wife so unkindly, and because he
+had murdered his children.
+
+Though Lord Walter saw this, he wished to try his wife once more. He
+knew that he could send away his wife and marry another if he got a
+letter from the Pope to say that he might. He sent a messenger to
+Rome, where the Pope lived. This messenger was told to bring back a
+letter, not from the Pope, but as like one of his as possible.
+
+The letter came. It said that because of the anger of Lord Walter's
+people at the lowly birth of his wife Griselda, the Marquis might send
+her away and marry another.
+
+The news of the letter spread throughout the land. Every one believed
+that it had really come from the Pope.
+
+Griselda's heart was very sore when she heard of this letter. But she
+went on quietly with each day's work. She did not even speak of the
+letter to her husband.
+
+At last Lord Walter spoke before all his court, and with no knightly
+gentleness.
+
+"Griselda," he said, "there is no freedom in the life of one who
+rules. I may not act after my own wish as any laborer on my land may
+do. As thou knowest, my people hate thy presence, and demand of me
+that I wed another. The Pope's letter thou hast heard. Return then,
+swiftly and without complaint, to thy father's cottage, for already my
+bride cometh hither."
+
+"My Lord, it is no new thought to me, that I am unworthy to be thy
+servant--far more unworthy to be thy wife. In this great house of
+which thou didst make me queen, I have not acted as mistress, but only
+as lowly handmaid to thee. For these years of thy kindness, I thank
+thee. Gladly do I go to my father's house. There he tended me when I
+was but a child. Now I will stay with him till death enters the
+cottage door. To thee and to thy bride be joy. To her I willingly
+yield the place where I have been so happy. Since thou, who once wert
+all my joy, wilt have me go, I go!"
+
+Lord Walter turned away in sadness. He could scarcely speak for pity,
+but he held to his purpose.
+
+Then Griselda drew her wedding-ring from her finger, and laid it down.
+Beside it she put the gems that Lord Walter had given her. Her
+beautiful robes she laid aside. In the simplest gown she could find,
+and with head and feet all bare, Griselda went down through the olive
+trees towards her father's house.
+
+Many of Lord Walter's people followed her, weeping and bewailing the
+fickleness of fortune. Griselda did not turn to them, nor speak, nor
+weep. She quietly went on her way.
+
+When the tidings reached her father, he wished that he had never been
+born, so sad was he in the sorrow of his beautiful daughter. He
+hastened out to meet her, and wrapped her tenderly in her old cloak,
+and led her home with tears.
+
+Griselda spoke no word of complaint, nor did she speak of her former
+happiness. Once more she tended the sheep on the common. Once more she
+carried water from the well. Once more she thought first of her
+father.
+
+After some weeks Lord Walter sent for Griselda. She went to the castle
+and greeted him humbly as of old. She showed no grudge because of his
+unkindness.
+
+"Griselda," he said, "thou knowest, as doth no other, how all this
+castle should be ordered for my pleasure. Stay thou then, and have all
+in readiness for the fair young bride whom I shall wed to-morrow. It
+is my will that she be welcomed royally."
+
+"My whole desire is to serve thee, my Lord. Neither weal nor woe shall
+ever make me cease to love thee with all my heart."
+
+At once Griselda took control of all who worked in the castle. Of them
+all she was the neatest and the quickest. Soon every room in the tower
+was sweet and clean. The great hall was decked for the wedding-feast,
+and the table glittered with silver.
+
+Early next morning many horsemen came to the castle. Among them was a
+beautiful girl dressed in a shimmering white robe. Near her rode a
+charming boy younger than the maiden. Round them were many nobles, and
+a guard of soldiers, who had brought them to Lord Walter's court.
+
+The people crowded round the gates. So charmed were they with the fair
+young maid, that some of them forgot their love for Griselda, and were
+ready to welcome the bride whose coming caused her so much sorrow.
+
+Still Griselda moved about the castle in her old worn clothes. She
+went to the gate to welcome the bride. Then she received the guests
+and greeted each of them according to his degree.
+
+The stranger nobles wondered who Griselda could be. She was so wise
+and gentle, and yet so meanly dressed.
+
+Before the feast began, Lord Walter called Griselda to him. Then he
+asked her, "What dost thou think of my wife? Is she beautiful?"
+
+"Never have I seen a fairer," said Griselda. "Joy be with you both
+evermore! But oh! I beg of thee, torment not this child as thou didst
+me. She has been tenderly cared for. She could not bear what I have
+borne."
+
+When Lord Walter saw her great patience, and thought of the pain he
+had caused her, his heart went out to her in great pity, and he
+cried, "It is enough, Griselda; fear no more, nor be thou longer sad.
+I have tried thy faith and thy sweetness, as faith and sweetness have
+never before been tried."
+
+His arms were around her, and he kissed her. Griselda looked at him in
+wonder. She could not understand.
+
+"Griselda," he said, "thou art my wife. I have no other. This is thy
+daughter; her brother is my heir. Thine are they both. Take them
+again, and dream not that thou art bereft of thy children."
+
+When Griselda heard all this she fainted away in her great joy. When
+she woke again she called her children to her. Timidly they came, but
+soon they were caught close to her breast. While she fondled them, and
+kissed them, her hot tears of joy fell on their fair faces, and on
+their hair. Then she looked at Lord Walter, and said, "Death cannot
+harm me now, since thou lovest me still." Then she turned back to the
+children.
+
+"Oh tender, oh dear, oh little ones, my children! Your sorrowful
+mother thought that cruel dogs or other fearsome beasts had torn you!
+but God has kept you safe."
+
+Once again the ladies of the court dressed Griselda in royal robes.
+Once again they set a golden crown upon her head. Once again the
+wedding-ring slipped into its own place on her finger.
+
+Ere she entered the hall of feasting again, swift messengers had
+brought her old father, Janicola, to the castle, never to leave it
+again.
+
+Then Griselda sat with her children beside her husband. To her feet
+came lords and nobles, peasants and farmers, eager to kiss her hand
+and to show the joy they felt in her return.
+
+Never had the walls of the castle reechoed the laughter of so glad a
+people. All day long till the stars shone in the cool clear sky the
+feasting went on.
+
+For Griselda this was the first of many happy days, happier than she
+had known before.
+
+In her home sounded the gay voices of happy children as they played
+with, and cared for, the old grandfather whom their mother loved so
+dearly. And ever as she moved about the castle she met the eyes of
+Lord Walter, that told her again and yet again that he trusted her
+utterly.
+
+
+
+
+THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
+
+By JOHN BUNYAN
+
+ADAPTED BY MARY MACGREGOR
+
+
+As I slept I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man
+clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face away
+from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his
+back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein, and as he
+read, he wept and trembled. His fear was so great that he brake out
+with a mournful cry, saying, "What shall I do?"
+
+In this plight therefore he went home, and did all he could to hide
+his distress from his wife and children. But he could not be silent
+long, because his trouble increased. Wherefore at length he began to
+talk to his wife and children thus: "O my dear wife," said he, "and
+you my children, I am in despair by reason of a burden that lieth
+heavy on me. Moreover I am for certain told that this our city will be
+burned with fire from heaven, when both myself, with thee, my wife,
+and you, my sweet babes, shall be ruined, except some way of escape
+can be found." At this his wife and children were sore amazed, not
+because they believed that what he had said to them was true, but
+because they thought he must be ill to talk in so strange a way.
+Therefore, as it was evening, and they hoped sleep might soothe him,
+with all haste they got him to bed. But the night was as troublesome
+to him as the day, wherefore instead of sleeping he spent it in sighs
+and tears.
+
+So when the morning was come, they asked him how he did. He told them,
+"Worse and worse," and began to talk to them again in the same strange
+manner, but they began to be careless of his words. They also thought
+to drive away his fancies by harsh and rough behavior to him.
+Sometimes they would mock, sometimes they would scold, and sometimes
+they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began to stay in his room
+to pray for and pity them, and also to comfort his own misery. He
+would also walk alone in the fields, sometimes reading and sometimes
+praying, and thus for some days he spent his time.
+
+Now I saw in my dream that when he was walking in the fields, he was
+reading his book and greatly distressed in mind. And as he read, he
+burst out crying, "What shall I do to be saved?" I saw also that he
+looked this way and that way, as if he would run. Yet he stood still,
+because, as I saw, he could not tell which way to go. I looked then,
+and saw a man, named Evangelist, coming to him, who asked, "Wherefore
+dost thou cry?"
+
+He answered, "Sir, I see by the book in my hand that I am condemned to
+die, and after that to be judged. And I find I am not willing to die,
+nor able to be judged."
+
+Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing to die, since in this life you
+are so unhappy?"
+
+The man answered, "Because I fear this burden will sink me lower than
+the grave, and the thought of that makes me cry."
+
+Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy fear, why standest thou still?"
+
+He answered, "Because I know not whither to go."
+
+So Evangelist gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within,
+"Fly from the wrath to come." The man therefore read it, and looking
+upon Evangelist very carefully, said, "Whither must I fly!"
+
+Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field,
+"Do you see yonder Wicket-gate?"
+
+The man said, "No."
+
+"Well," said the other, "do you see yonder shining light?"
+
+He said, "I think I do."
+
+Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in thine eye, and go up
+directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate. When thou knockest, it
+shall be told thee what thou shalt do."
+
+So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now he had not run far
+from his own door when his wife and children, seeing it, began to cry
+after him to return. But the man put his fingers in his ears, and ran
+on, crying, "Life, life, eternal life!" So he looked not behind him,
+but fled towards the middle of the plain. The neighbors also came out
+to see him run. And as he ran some mocked, others threatened, and some
+cried after him to return. Among those that did so were two that were
+resolved to fetch him back by force. The name of the one was
+Obstinate, and the name of the other was Pliable. Now by this time the
+man was got a good distance from them, but they had made up their
+minds to follow him, which they did, and in a little time overtook
+him.
+
+Then said the man, "Neighbors, wherefore are you come?"
+
+They said, "To persuade you to go back with us."
+
+But he said, "That can by no means be. You dwell in the City of
+Destruction, the place where I was born. Be content, good neighbors,
+and go along with me."
+
+"What!" said Obstinate, "and leave our friends and our comforts behind
+us!"
+
+"Yes," said Christian, for that was his name.
+
+"What do you seek, since you leave all the world to find it?" said
+Obstinate.
+
+"I seek a treasure that never fades away. It is laid up in heaven and
+is safe there," said Christian. "Read it so, if you will, in my book."
+
+"Tush!" said Obstinate, "away with your book. Will you go back with us
+or no?"
+
+"No, not I," said the other, "because I have just set out."
+
+"Come then, Neighbor Pliable, let us turn again and go home without
+him."
+
+Then said Pliable, "If what the good Christian says is true, the
+things he looks after are better than ours. My heart makes me wish to
+go with him. But, my good Christian, do you know the way you are
+going?"
+
+"I am directed by a man, whose name is Evangelist, to speed me to a
+little gate that is before us, where we shall be told about the way."
+
+"Come then, good neighbor," said Pliable, "let us be going." Then they
+went both together.
+
+"And I will go back to my place," said Obstinate. "I will be no
+companion of such mistaken and foolish fellows."
+
+Now I saw in my dream that when Obstinate was gone back, Christian and
+Pliable went talking over the plain. "I will tell you what my book
+says of the country to which we are going, and of the people we shall
+meet there," said Christian.
+
+"But do you think the words of your book are certainly true?" said
+Pliable.
+
+"Yes," said Christian, "for it was written by Him who cannot lie."
+
+"Well," said Pliable, "tell me about this country."
+
+"In this country," said Christian, "we shall live for ever. There are
+crowns of glory to be given us, and garments that will make us shine
+like the sun."
+
+"This is excellent," said Pliable; "and what else?"
+
+"There shall be no more crying nor sorrow, for He that is the Owner of
+the place will wipe all tears from our eyes," said Christian.
+
+"And what companions shall we have there?" asked Pliable.
+
+"There we shall be with those that will dazzle your eyes to look on.
+There also you shall meet with thousands and tens of thousands that
+have gone before us to that place. None of of them are hurtful, but
+loving and holy. In a word, there shall we see some with their golden
+crowns, there we shall see maidens with golden harps, there we shall
+see men that here were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten by
+beasts, and drowned in the seas, all for the love they bare to the
+Lord of this place. Now they are all well, and clothed with beautiful
+garments."
+
+And as Pliable heard of the excellence of the country and of the
+company to which they were going, he said, "Well, my good companion,
+glad I am to hear of these things. Come on, let us go with more
+speed."
+
+"I cannot go as fast as I would by reason of this burden that is on my
+back," said Christian.
+
+Now I saw in my dream that just as they ended their talk, they drew
+nigh to a bog that was in the midst of the plain, and they being
+heedless did both fall suddenly into it. The name of this bog was the
+Slough of Despond. Here therefore they struggled for a time, being
+grievously covered with dirt. And Christian, because of the burden
+that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. Then said Pliable,
+"Ah, Neighbor Christian, where are you now?"
+
+"Truly," said Christian, "I do not know."
+
+At this Pliable began to be offended, and said angrily, "Is this the
+happiness you have told me of all this while? If I get out again with
+my life, you shall possess the wonderful country alone."
+
+And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the
+mire on that side of the bog which was next to his own house. So away
+he went, and Christian saw him no more. Wherefore Christian was left
+to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone. But still he tried to
+struggle to that side of the Slough that was further from his own
+house, and next to the Wicket-gate. But he could not get out because
+of the burden that was upon his back.
+
+And I beheld in my dream that a man came to him, whose name was Help,
+and asked him what he did there. "Sir," said Christian, "I was bid to
+go this way by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder
+gate, and as I was going thither I fell in here."
+
+"Why did you not look for the steps?" said Help.
+
+"I was so full of fear," answered Christian, "that I fled the next way
+and fell in."
+
+Then said Help, "Give me thy hand." So Christian gave him his hand,
+and he drew him out and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on
+his way.
+
+Now in my dream I stepped up to the man that plucked Christian out,
+and said:
+
+"Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way from the City of
+Destruction to the Wicket-gate, is it that this Slough is not mended,
+that poor travelers might go over in more safety?"
+
+And he said to me, "This place cannot be mended, yet it is not the
+pleasure of the King that it should remain so bad. His laborers also
+have for more than sixteen hundred years been employed on this patch
+of ground, in the hope that it might perhaps be mended. There has
+been swallowed up here twenty thousand cartloads of the best material
+in the attempt to mend the place. But it is the Slough of Despond
+still; and still will be so, when they have done all they can. It is
+true that there are some good and strong steps even through the very
+midst of this mire. But men through the dizziness of their head miss
+the steps and so tumble into the mire, but the ground is good when
+they have once got in at the gate."
+
+Then I saw in my dream that by this time Pliable was got home to his
+house. So his neighbors came to visit him, and some of them called him
+wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for going with
+Christian. Others again did mock at his cowardliness, saying, "Surely
+since you began to go, you need not have been so base as to have given
+out for a few difficulties." So Pliable sat like a coward among them.
+
+Now as Christian was walking alone, he espied one afar off, come
+crossing over the field to meet him. The gentleman's name was Mr.
+Worldly Wiseman. He dwelt in a very great town, close by the one from
+which Christian came. This man, then, meeting with Christian, began
+thus to enter into some talk with him: "How now, good fellow, whither
+are you going in this burdened manner?"
+
+"A burdened manner indeed," said Christian. "I am going, sir, to
+yonder Wicket-gate before me, for there, I am told, I shall be put
+into a way to be rid of my heavy burden."
+
+"Hast thou a wife and children?" asked Mr. Worldly Wiseman.
+
+"Yes, but I am so laden with this burden that I cannot take that
+pleasure in them as formerly."
+
+"Will you hearken to me if I give thee counsel?"
+
+"If it be good, I will, for I stand in need of good counsel."
+
+"I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid
+of thy burden, for thou wilt never be contented till then."
+
+"That is what I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy burden, but get
+it off myself I cannot, nor is there any man living in our country who
+can take it off my shoulders. Therefore I am going this way, as I told
+you, that I may be rid of my burden."
+
+"Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden?"
+
+"A man that appeared to me a very great and honorable person. His
+name, as I remember, is Evangelist."
+
+"He has given thee foolish counsel. There is not a more dangerous and
+troublesome way in the world than is that unto which he hath directed
+thee. Thou hast met with some danger already, for I see the mud of the
+Slough of Despond is upon thee. Hear me, I am older than thou. Thou
+art likely to meet with, in the way which thou goest, painfulness,
+hunger, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and death."
+
+"Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me than all
+these things."
+
+"But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, seeing so many dangers
+attend it? Hadst thou but patience to listen, I could direct thee how
+to get what thou desirest, without the danger that thou in this way
+wilt run thyself into."
+
+"Sir, I pray that thou wilt tell me this secret."
+
+"Why, in yonder village there dwells a gentleman, who is very wise,
+and who has skill to help men off with burdens like thine from their
+shoulders. To him thou mayest go to be helped at once. His house is
+not quite a mile from this place, and if thou dost not desire to go
+back to the City of Destruction, as indeed I would not wish thee, thou
+mayest send for thy wife and children to come to thee to this village.
+There are houses now standing empty, one of which thou mayest have
+without great cost. Food is there also, cheap and good, and what will
+make thy life the more happy is, that thou shalt live beside honest
+neighbors, in respect and comfort."
+
+Now the Christian puzzled, but he thought, "If what Mr. Worldly
+Wiseman says is true, my wisest plan is to take his advice."
+
+"Sir," said Christian, "which is my way to this honest man's house?"
+
+"Do you see yonder high hill?"
+
+"Yes, very well."
+
+"By that hill you must go, and the first house you come to is his."
+
+So Christian turned out of his way to go to the house for help. But
+behold, when he was now close to the hill, it seemed so steep, and
+also that side of it that was next the wayside did hang so much over,
+that Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest the hill should
+fall on his head. Wherefore he stood still, and knew not what to do.
+Also his burden now seemed heavier to him than while he was in his
+way. There came also flashes of fire out of the hill, that made
+Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here therefore he did quake
+for fear. And now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly
+Wiseman's counsel. Then he saw Evangelist coming to meet him, at the
+sight also of whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew
+nearer and nearer, and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a
+severe and dreadful countenance.
+
+"What dost thou here, Christian?" said he. At which words Christian
+knew not what to answer, wherefore at first he stood speechless before
+him. Then said Evangelist, "Art not thou the man I found crying
+without the walls of the City of Destruction?"
+
+"Yes," said Christian, "I am the man."
+
+"Did I not direct thee the way to the little Wicket-gate?"
+
+"Yes," said Christian.
+
+"How is it, then, that thou art so quickly turned out of the way?"
+
+"I met with a gentleman as soon as I had got over the Slough of
+Despond, who told me that in yonder village I might find a man who
+could take off my burden."
+
+"What was he like?"
+
+"He looked like a gentleman, and talked much to me, and got me at last
+to believe his words. So I came hither, but when I beheld this hill
+and how it hangs over the way, I suddenly stood still lest it should
+fall on my head."
+
+"What said that gentleman to you?"
+
+"Why, he asked me whither I was going, and if I had a wife and
+children, and he bid me make speed to get rid of my burden. And I
+said, 'I am going to yonder gate to be told how I may get rid of it.'
+
+"So he said he would show me a better and a shorter way, and not so
+full of difficulties as the way that you directed me. But when I came
+to this place, I stopped for fear of danger, and now I know not what
+to do!" So Christian stood trembling before Evangelist.
+
+Then said Evangelist, "Give heed to the things I shall tell thee. Mr.
+Worldly Wiseman sought to turn thee out of the way and to bring thee
+into danger. In yonder village has no man ever yet got rid of his
+burden, nor is he ever likely to lose it there. Therefore, Mr. Worldly
+Wiseman and his friend are deceivers, and cannot help thee."
+
+After this there came words and fire out of the mountain under which
+Christian stood. Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began
+to cry out, saying he would he had never met Mr. Worldly Wiseman or
+that he had never listened to him. Then he turned to Evangelist and
+said, "Sir, what do you think? Is there any hope? May I now go back
+and go up to the Wicket-gate? Or shall I be sent back from the gate
+ashamed? I am sorry I have listened to this man's counsel, but may my
+sins be forgiven?"
+
+Evangelist said to him, "Thy sin is very great. Thou hast left the
+good way and walked in forbidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate
+receive thee, for he has good will for men. Only," said he, "take heed
+that thou turn not aside again."
+
+Then did Christian prepare to go back. And Evangelist, after he had
+kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him Godspeed. So Christian
+went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way. Even if
+any one spoke to him, he would not venture an answer. He walked like
+one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by
+no means think himself safe, till again he had got into the way which
+he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsel. So in process of
+time Christian got up to the gate. Now over the gate there was
+written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." He knocked
+therefore more than once or twice. At last there came a grave person
+to the gate, named Good-will. He asked who was there, and whence he
+came, and what he desired.
+
+"I am a sinner," said Christian; "I come from the City of Destruction,
+but am going to Mount Zion. I am told that by this gate is the way
+thither, and I would know if you are willing to let me in."
+
+"I am willing with all my heart," said Good-will, and he opened the
+gate. So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull.
+
+"Why do you do that?" said Christian.
+
+Then Good-will told him, "A little distance from this gate a strong
+castle has been built, of which Beelzebub is the captain. And he and
+those that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this
+gate, hoping they may die before they enter in."
+
+So when Christian had come in, Good-will asked him who had directed
+him to the gate.
+
+"Evangelist bid me come here and knock, as I did. And he said that
+you, sir, would tell me what I must do."
+
+Then Good-will said, "Come a little way with me, good Christian, and I
+will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost
+thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go, and it is as
+straight as a rule can make it. This is the way thou must go."
+
+"But," said Christian, "are there no turnings, nor windings, by which
+a stranger may lose his way?"
+
+"Yes, there are many ways join this, but they are crooked and wide.
+Thou mayest know the right from the wrong way, for the right way is
+always strait and narrow."
+
+Then I saw in my dream that Christian asked him if he could not help
+him off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had not
+got rid of it, nor could he get it off without help. But Good-will
+said, "Thou must be content to bear it, until thou comest to a place
+where stands a Cross, for there it will fall from thy back of itself."
+
+Then Christian began to get ready to continue his journey. So
+Good-will told him that when he had gone some distance from the gate,
+he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should
+knock, and he would show him wonderful things. Then Christian took
+leave of his friend, and he again bid him Godspeed. Now Christian went
+on till he came to the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked over
+and over. At last one came to the door and asked who was there.
+
+"Sir," said Christian, "I am a traveler who was told by Good-will to
+call here. I would therefore speak with the master of the house." So
+he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came
+to Christian and asked what he would have.
+
+"Sir," said Christian, "I am a man that has come from the City of
+Destruction, and I am going to Mount Zion. I was told by the man that
+stands at the Wicket-gate that if I called here you would show me
+things that would help me on my journey."
+
+Then said the Interpreter, "Come in, and I will show thee what will
+help thee." So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid
+Christian follow him. Then he took him into a private room, and bid
+his man open a door. And Christian saw the picture of a very grave
+person hung up against the wall. He had eyes lifted up to heaven, the
+best of books in his hand, and a crown of gold did hang over his head.
+
+Then said Christian, "What means this?"
+
+"The man whose picture this is," answered the Interpreter, "is one of
+a thousand. He is the only man who may be thy guide in all difficult
+places thou mayest meet with in the way. Wherefore be very careful to
+remember whom thou hast seen."
+
+Then the Interpreter led him into a very large parlor that was full of
+dust, because it was never swept, and after he had looked at it for a
+little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now when he
+began to sweep, the dust began to fly about, so that Christian was
+almost choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood near,
+"Bring hither the water and sprinkle the room." And when this was done
+the room was swept and cleansed.
+
+Then said Christian, "What does this mean?"
+
+The Interpreter answered, "This parlor is like the heart of an evil
+man. The dust is his sin, and the damsel that sprinkles the water is
+the Gospel."
+
+I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the
+hand and led him into a little room, where sat two little children,
+each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the
+name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be very discontented,
+but Patience was very quiet.
+
+Then Christian asked, "What is the reason of the discontent of
+Passion?"
+
+The Interpreter answered, "The governor of the children would have
+them wait for their new toys, till the beginning of next year, but
+Passion wishes to have them all now, while Patience, is willing to
+wait." Then the Interpreter took Christian to a place where there was
+a fire burning against a wall, and one standing near it, always
+casting much water upon it to quench it, yet did the fire burn higher
+and hotter. But afterwards the Interpreter took him to the back of the
+wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, and he
+poured the oil continually, but secretly, into the fire.
+
+"What does this mean?" asked Christian.
+
+The Interpreter answered, "The fire is a picture of the grace God puts
+into the heart. He that casts water on it to put it out is the Evil
+One. And the man who pours oil on the fire to keep it alight is
+Christ."
+
+I saw also that the Interpreter took Christian again by the hand and
+led him into a place, where was builded a stately palace, beautiful to
+behold, at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw
+also upon the top of the palace certain persons walking, and they were
+clothed all in gold.
+
+Then said Christian, "May we go in here?" So the Interpreter took him
+and led him toward the door of the palace. Now before they came up to
+the door, they passed a man, sitting at a table, with a book and his
+inkhorn before him, to take down the name of any who should enter.
+And, behold, at the door stood a great company of men, who wished to
+go in, but did not dare to enter, for within the doorway stood many
+men in armor to guard it. Now, these men in armor were determined to
+do any who would enter as much harm and mischief as they could.
+Christian was amazed. At last, when every man started back for fear of
+the armed men, Christian saw a man with a very strong face come up to
+the man that sat at the table, saying:
+
+"Set down my name, sir."
+
+And when this was done, Christian saw the strong man draw his sword
+and put an helmet on his head, and rush toward the door upon the
+armed men. The armed men fought with great strength, but the man with
+the strong face was not at all discouraged, but fought most fiercely.
+So after he had received and given many wounds to those that tried to
+keep him out, he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward
+into the palace. Then there was a pleasant voice heard from those that
+walked upon the top of the palace, saying:
+
+  "Come in, come in;
+  Eternal glory thou shalt win."
+
+So he went in and was clothed in such garments as they.
+
+"Now," said Christian, "let me go."
+
+And the Interpreter said, "Hast thou understood these things?"
+
+"Yes," said Christian, and he began to get ready to go on his journey.
+
+Then said the Interpreter, "God be always with thee, good Christian,
+to guide thee in the way that leads to Mount Zion."
+
+Now I saw in my dream that the highway up which Christian was to go
+was fenced on either side with a wall. Up this way therefore, did
+Christian run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load
+on his back. He ran thus till he came to a steeper place, and upon
+that place stood a Cross, and a little below, a Sepulcher. So I saw in
+my dream that just as Christian came up to the Cross his burden fell
+from off his back, and began to tumble till it came to the mouth of
+the Sepulcher, where it fell in and I saw it no more. Then was
+Christian glad and happy, and he stood for a while to look and wonder,
+for it was surprising to him to see that the Cross should make him
+lose his burden. Now as he stood looking, behold three Shining Ones
+came to him and greeted him.
+
+The first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven thee." The second took
+away all his rags and clothed him in new raiment. The third set a mark
+on his forehead and gave him a roll with a seal on it, which he should
+give in at the Celestial Gate. So they went their way.
+
+Then Christian gave three leaps for joy and went on singing. I saw
+then in my dream that as he walked he saw two men come tumbling over
+the wall into the narrow way.
+
+"Gentlemen, where do you come from and whither do you go?" said
+Christian.
+
+They told him, "We were born in a land called Vainglory, and we are
+going to Mount Zion."
+
+"Why came you not in at the gate?" said Christian.
+
+They said that to go to the gate was too far, so they had taken a
+short cut and climbed over the wall.
+
+"But," said Christian, "will the Lord of the City to which we are
+going be pleased that you should come into the way over the wall?"
+
+But the men said he need not trouble his head about that, for what
+they did had been done many times before. It had been a custom for
+more than a thousand years. And besides, said they, "If we get into
+the way, what does it matter how we get in? You came in by the
+Wicket-gate, and are in the way, and we came tumbling over the wall
+and are in the way, so now we are all in the same condition."
+
+"But," said Christian, "I walk by the Rule of my Master, and you walk
+just as you like best."
+
+Then said they, "We see not how thou art different to us, except by
+the coat thou wearest, and that, we suppose, was given thee by some of
+thy neighbors, to hide thy rags."
+
+"Well," said Christian, "the Lord of the City to which I go gave me
+this coat the day that he took away from me my rags. He will surely
+know me, since I have His coat on my back. I have also a mark in my
+forehead, which you may not have noticed, and this was given to me by
+one of my Lord's friends, on the day my burden fell off my shoulders.
+I will tell you too, that I had a roll given me, to comfort me by
+reading, as I go on the way. I am also to give in the roll at the
+Celestial Gate. All these things I think you are without, because you
+came not in at the gate."
+
+To these things they gave him no answer, only they looked at each
+other and laughed. I beheld then, that they all went on without
+talking much together, till they came to the foot of the hill
+Difficulty, at the bottom of which was a spring. The narrow way lay
+right up the hill, but there were also two other ways here. One turned
+to the left hand and the other to the right at the bottom of the hill.
+Christian now went to the spring and drank to refresh himself, and
+then began to go up the narrow path that led to the top of the hill.
+The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But when they saw
+that the hill was steep and high, they made up their minds to go in
+the other paths that lay round the side of the hill. So one took the
+way that was called Danger, which led him into a great wood, and the
+other took the way called Destruction, which led him into a wide
+field, full of dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell and rose no
+more. I looked then to Christian to see him go up the hill, and then I
+saw that he had begun to clamber upon his hands and his knees, because
+of the steepness of the place. Now about midway to the top of the hill
+was a pleasant arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshing
+of weary travelers. When Christian got there he sat down to rest, then
+he pulled out his roll and read in it to comfort himself, and he began
+again to look at the garment that was given to him at the Cross. Thus
+he at last fell into a slumber, and then into a sound sleep, which
+kept him in that place, until it was almost night, and in his sleep
+his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he was sleeping, there came one
+to him and awaked him. Then Christian suddenly started up and sped on
+his way till he came to the top of the hill.
+
+When he was got to the top of the hill, there came two men running to
+meet him. The name of the one was Timorous, and the other Mistrust.
+
+"Sirs," said Christian, "what is the matter? You run the wrong way."
+
+Timorous answered that they were going to the City of Zion and had got
+up that difficult place. "But," said he, "the farther we go, the more
+danger we meet with, wherefore we turned and are going back again."
+
+"Yes," said Mistrust; "for just before us lie a couple of lions in the
+way, whether sleeping or waking we know not, but we thought if we came
+within reach, they would pull us in pieces."
+
+Then said Christian, "You make me afraid, but yet I will go forward."
+So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, and Christian went on his
+way. And as he went he thought again of what he heard from the men.
+Then he felt for his roll, that he might read and be comforted, but he
+felt and found it not.
+
+Now was Christian in great distress and knew not what to do. At last
+he bethought himself that he had slept in the arbor that was on the
+side of the hill, and then he went back to look for his roll. But all
+the way he went back, who can tell the sorrow of Christian's heart?
+Sometimes he sighed, sometimes he wept, and often he chid himself for
+being so foolish as to fall asleep. Thus therefore he went back,
+carefully looking on this side and on that all the way as he went. For
+he hoped to find the roll that had been his comfort so many times in
+his journey. He went back till he came again within sight of the arbor
+where he had sat and slept, but that sight renewed his sorrow again,
+by reminding him how eagerly he had slept there. And as he went
+towards the arbor, he sighed over his sleepiness, saying, "Oh, foolish
+man that I was, why did I sleep in the daytime? oh, that I had not
+slept."
+
+Now, by the time he was come to the arbor again, for a while he sat
+down and wept, but, at last, looking sorrowfully down under the
+settle, he espied his roll, which with trembling haste he caught up.
+But who can tell how joyful Christian was when he had got his roll
+again, or with what joy and tears he began to go up the hill again.
+And, oh, how nimbly did he go up! Yet before he reached the top the
+sun went down. Now Christian remembered the story that Mistrust and
+Timorous had told him, how they were frightened with the sight of the
+lions. And he said to himself, "If these beasts meet me in the dark,
+how shall I escape being by them torn in pieces?"
+
+But while he was in this fright, he lifted up his eyes, and behold,
+there was a very stately palace before him, the name of which was
+Beautiful, and it stood by the highway side. So I saw in my dream that
+he made haste, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now before
+he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage; and looking
+before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. The lions were
+chained, but Christian did not see the chains. Then he was afraid and
+thought he would go back, but the porter at the lodge, whose name is
+Watchful, seeing Christian stop, as if he would go back, cried, "Fear
+not the lions, for they are chained."
+
+Then I saw that Christian went on till he came and stood before the
+gate where the porter was. And Christian said to the porter, "Sir,
+what house is this? May I lodge here to-night?"
+
+The porter answered, "This house was built by the Lord of the hill,
+for the safety of pilgrims."
+
+So Watchful the porter rang a bell, at the sound of which a grave and
+beautiful damsel came out of the door. When she saw Christian she
+brought him into the Palace Beautiful, and she and her sisters talked
+with him until supper was ready. Now all their talk at table was about
+the Lord of the hill, and, by what they said, I knew that He had been
+a great Warrior, and that He had fought and slain Death, but not
+without great danger to Himself, which made me love Him the more. They
+talked together till late at night, and after they had committed
+themselves to their Lord for protection, they went to bed. The room in
+which the pilgrim slept had a window opening towards the sunrising,
+and the name of the room was Peace. In the morning they all got up,
+and after some more talk, they told him that they would take him to
+the armory before he left them. So they did, and when he came out, he
+was harnessed from head to foot, lest he should be attacked in the
+way. Then Christian walked with his friends to the gate, and there he
+asked the porter if he had seen any pilgrims pass.
+
+The porter answered, "Yes, a pilgrim called Faithful has passed this
+way."
+
+"Oh," said Christian, "I know him. He comes from the place where I was
+born. How far do you think he has got?"
+
+"By this time he is below the hill," said the porter.
+
+Then Christian began to go down the hill into the Valley of
+Humiliation, where it is difficult not to slip. He went down very
+warily, yet he slipped once or twice. Now in the valley Christian had
+a hard fight with a fiend called Apollyon. Apollyon was a monster and
+hideous to behold. He was clothed with scales like a fish, he had
+wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and his mouth was as the mouth
+of a lion, and out of it came fire and smoke. When he came up to
+Christian he looked at him with rage in his face, and said, "Prepare
+thyself to die, for thou shalt go no farther." And he threw a flaming
+dart at him, but Christian had a shield in his hand, which caught the
+dart, so that it did him no harm. Then did Christian draw his sword,
+but Apollyon threw darts at him as thick as hail, and wounded him in
+his head, his hand, and foot. This great combat lasted half a day,
+till Christian was almost worn out.
+
+Then Apollyon came close to Christian, and wrestled with him and gave
+him a dreadful fall, and Christian's sword flew out of his hand.
+
+"I am sure of thee now," said Apollyon. But while he was taking a last
+blow to kill this good man altogether, Christian nimbly stretched out
+his hand for his sword, and caught it. Then he gave Apollyon a deadly
+thrust, and Apollyon spread his wings and sped him away, so that
+Christian saw him no more. In this combat no man could imagine, unless
+he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and roaring Apollyon made
+all the time of the fight. He spake like a dragon. On the other side,
+sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him give so
+much as a pleasant look, till he saw that he had wounded Apollyon with
+his two-edged sword. Then indeed he did smile and look upward, but it
+was the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw.
+
+So when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will give thanks to
+Him that did help me against Apollyon."
+
+He also sat down in that place to eat and drink, so being refreshed,
+he again began his journey, with his sword drawn in his hand, "For,"
+said he, "I do not know if some other enemy may not be at hand."
+
+Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley of the
+Shadow of Death. Through it Christian must go, because the way to the
+Celestial City lay through it. Now this valley is a very lonely place.
+It is like a wilderness or a desert full of pits. No man dwells in it,
+and no man but a Christian passeth through it. Here Christian had a
+worse time than even in his fight with Apollyon. I saw then in my
+dream that when Christian had reached the borders of this valley,
+there met him two men, making haste to go back.
+
+Christian said to them, "Whither are you going?"
+
+"Back, back," they cried, "as you will go, if you prize life or
+peace!"
+
+"Why, what is the matter?" said Christian.
+
+"Matter!" said they. "We were going the way you are going, and we went
+as far as we dared. But had we gone a little farther we had not been
+here to bring the news to thee."
+
+"But what have you met with?" said Christian.
+
+"Why, we were almost in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but by good
+chance we looked before us and saw the danger before we came to it."
+
+"But what have you seen?" said Christian.
+
+"Seen!" said the men, "why, the valley itself was as dark as pitch. We
+also saw hobgoblins and dragons, and we heard a continual howling and
+yelling as of people in great misery. Death also doth always spread
+his wings over it. In a word, it is altogether dreadful, being utterly
+without order."
+
+"But," said Christian, "this is the way to the Celestial City."
+
+"Be it your way, then; we will not choose it for ours." So they
+parted. Christian went on his way, but still with his sword drawn in
+his hand, lest he should be attacked.
+
+I saw then in my dream, that as far as this valley reached, there was
+on the right hand a very deep ditch. Again, behold, on the left hand,
+there was a very dangerous mire, into which if a man falls he finds no
+bottom for his foot to stand on. The pathway here was also exceeding
+narrow, and therefore Christian was the more distressed. For when he
+sought in the dark to shun the ditch on the one hand, he was ready to
+tumble over into the mire on the other, and when he sought to escape
+the mire, without great carefulness he would nearly fall into the
+ditch. Then he went on, and I heard him sigh bitterly. For besides
+these dangers, the pathway was here so dark, that when he lifted up
+his foot to go forward, he knew not where, nor upon what he should
+set it next. About the middle of this valley I saw the mouth of hell
+to be, and it stood close to the wayside.
+
+"Now," thought Christian, "what shall I do?"
+
+And ever and anon the flame and smoke came out in such abundance, with
+sparks and hideous noises, that he was forced to put away his sword
+and betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer.
+
+Then he cried out in my hearing, "O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my
+soul." Thus he went on a great while, yet still the flames would be
+rushing towards him. Also he heard doleful voices and rushings to and
+fro, so that sometimes he thought he should be torn in pieces, or
+trodden down like mire in the streets.
+
+This frightful sight was seen, and these dreadful noises were heard by
+him for several miles together. Then Christian came to a place where
+he thought he heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him,
+and he stopped and began to think what it would be best for him to do.
+Sometimes he thought he would go back, but again he thought he might
+be half-way through the valley. So he resolved to go on, yet the
+fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. But when they were come
+almost close to him, he cried out in a loud voice, "I will walk in the
+strength of the Lord God." Then the fiends went back and came no
+farther.
+
+Now Christian thought he heard the voice of a man going before him,
+saying, "Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I
+will fear no evil, for Thou art with me." Then he was glad, for he
+thought that some one who feared God was in this valley, as well as
+himself, and he hoped to overtake him and have company by and by.
+
+Now morning being come, he looked back to see by the light of day what
+dangers he had gone through in the night. So he saw more plainly the
+ditch that was on the one hand, and the mire that was on the other,
+also how narrow the way was that lay between them both. He saw, too,
+the hobgoblins and dragons, but all afar off, for after break of day
+they came not nigh.
+
+About this time the sun was rising, and this was a great help to
+Christian, for you must know that though the first part of the Valley
+of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, yet this second part, through
+which he had to go, was, if possible, far more dangerous. For, from
+the place where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way
+was all along so full of snares, traps, and nets here, so full of
+pits, pitfalls, and deep holes down there, that if it had been dark,
+he would almost surely have been lost, but as I said just now, the sun
+was rising. In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the
+valley.
+
+Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little hill, and going
+up he looked forward and saw Faithful before him. Then said Christian,
+"Stay, and I will be your companion."
+
+And when he overtook Faithful they went very lovingly on together, and
+talked of all that had happened to them in their pilgrimage. Then I
+saw in my dream that when they got out of the wilderness they saw a
+town before them, and the name of that town was Vanity, and at the
+town there was a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It was kept all the
+year long.
+
+At this fair there were sold houses, lands, trades, husbands, wives,
+children, silver, gold, pearls, and precious stones. And, moreover, at
+this fair, there were at all times cheats and jugglers and knaves and
+rogues.
+
+Now the way to the Celestial City lay just through this town, so the
+pilgrims had to go through the fair.
+
+The Prince of princes Himself, when here, went through this town to
+his own country, and that on a fair-day too. And, I think, it was
+Beelzebub the chief lord of this fair that invited the Prince to buy
+of his vanities. Beelzebub even said he would have made Him lord of
+the fair, if He would have done him reverence as He went through the
+town. Yea, because the Prince was so great a person, Beelzebub took
+Him from street to street and showed Him all his kingdoms, that he
+might, if possible, tempt the Prince to buy some of his vanities. But
+the Blessed One did not wish any of these vanities, and therefore left
+the town without spending so much as one farthing upon these vanities.
+
+Now these pilgrims, Christian and Faithful, as I said, had to go
+through this fair.
+
+Well, so they did, but behold, whenever they entered into the fair,
+it and the town itself were in a hubbub about them. For the pilgrims
+were clothed with raiment that was very different from the raiment of
+any that traded in that fair. The people gazed upon Christian and
+Faithful and called them outlandish men.
+
+Then also, they wondered at the pilgrim's speech, as few could
+understand what they said, for they spoke the language of the
+Celestial City. But those that kept the fair spoke the language of the
+city of Vanity Fair, and they could not understand one another.
+
+Now when these pilgrims would not buy their wares and would not even
+look at them, the sellers were angry and mocked these men, and some
+called on others to smite them. At last the master of the fair told
+his men to question the pilgrims. And when Christian and Faithful told
+the men that they were strangers in the world and were going to the
+Celestial City, the men thought they were mad. Therefore they took
+them and beat them and threw mud at them, and then they put them in a
+cage to be a show to the people at the fair. But when they were tired
+of mocking them, these two pilgrims were again examined and charged as
+guilty of the great disturbance in the fair. So they beat them
+pitilessly, and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and
+down the fair. Then Christian and Faithful behaved so wisely and
+patiently, that the others were still more angry, and said they would
+put these men to death.
+
+Therefore, after a trial, Faithful was brought out, to do with him
+according to their law. And first they scourged him, then they
+buffeted him, then they stoned him with stones, then they pricked him
+with their swords, and last of all they burned him to ashes at the
+stake. Now I saw behind the people a chariot and a couple of horses
+waiting for Faithful, who was taken by it through the clouds, the
+nearest way to the Celestial City. Then was Christian sent back to the
+prison, where he dwelt for a time, till he escaped and went again on
+his way. But he did not go alone, for there was one whose name was
+Hopeful, who left the town of Vanity, and was a companion to Christian
+in his pilgrimage. They went on their way till they came to a
+pleasant river. Now their way lay just along the bank of the river,
+and Christian and his companion walked there with great delight. They
+drank also of the river, and ate of the fruit that grew on the trees
+by its bank. On either side of the river was also a meadow, very
+beautiful with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this
+meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might lie safely. Now I
+beheld in my dream that they had not journeyed far, when the river and
+the way parted, and at this they were very sorry, yet they dare not go
+out of the way.
+
+A little before them was a meadow and a stile to go over into it. Then
+said Christian, "If this meadow lies along by our path, let us go
+over." He went to the stile to see, and behold, a path lay alongside
+of the way, on the other side of the fence.
+
+"That is as I wish," said Christian. "Come, good Hopeful, and let us
+go over.
+
+"But," said Hopeful, "what if this path should lead us out of the
+way?"
+
+"That is not likely," said the other. "Look, it goes along by the
+wayside." So Hopeful, being persuaded by Christian, went after him
+over the stile. When they had gone over and had got into the path,
+they found it very easy for their feet. And as they looked before them
+they saw a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-confidence.
+So they called after him, and asked where this way led.
+
+He said, "To the Celestial City."
+
+"Look," said Christian to Hopeful, "did I not tell you so? You see, we
+are right after all." So they followed Vain-confidence, and he went
+before them.
+
+But behold, the night came on, and it was very dark, so that they that
+went behind lost sight of him that went before. Vain-confidence then
+went on, not seeing the way before him, and fell into a deep pit which
+was there. This pit was made by the Prince of those grounds on
+purpose, to catch such foolish men as Vain-confidence. He, then, fell
+into the pit and was dashed to pieces with his fall. Now Christian and
+Hopeful heard him fall, so they called to know what was the matter,
+but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning.
+
+Then said Hopeful, "Where are we now?" But Christian was silent, for
+he began to be afraid that he had led Hopeful out of the way.
+
+Now it began to rain and thunder and lighten in a very dreadful
+manner, and the river flowed over the banks.
+
+And Hopeful groaned, "Oh that I had kept on my way."
+
+By this time the waters were greatly risen, so that to go back was
+very dangerous. Yet they tried to go back, but it was so dark, and the
+flood was so high, that as they went they were nearly drowned nine or
+ten times, and they could not reach the stile again that night.
+Wherefore at last, coming to a little shelter, they sat down, but
+being weary they fell asleep. Now there was, not far from the place
+where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, and the owner of the
+castle was Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds the pilgrims were
+now sleeping. Wherefore the giant, getting up early, and walking up
+and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep. Then with
+a grim and surly voice he woke them, and asked them what they were
+doing in his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims and had lost
+their way.
+
+The giant said, "You have trampled on my ground, and slept on it, and
+therefore you must go along with me." So they were forced to go,
+because he was stronger than they. Also they said very little, for
+they knew they had done wrong.
+
+The giant therefore drove them before him, and put them into his
+castle, into a very dark dungeon. Here, then, they lay, from Wednesday
+morning till Saturday night, without one bit of bread or drop of
+drink, or light, or any one to speak to them. Now Giant Despair had a
+wife, and he told her he had taken a couple of men prisoners, because
+they were sleeping on his grounds. Then she told him that, when he
+arose in the morning, he should beat them without mercy.
+
+So Giant Despair got a cudgel, and went down to the dungeon and beat
+Christian and Hopeful fearfully, so that they could not move. Then the
+giant left them, and they spent their time in sighs and bitter tears.
+
+The next night Giant Despair again talked to his wife, and she said,
+"Tell your prisoners to kill themselves, for they will never escape
+from the dungeon."
+
+So when morning came, the giant went to them in a surly manner, and
+seeing they still ached with the stripes he had given them, he told
+them to poison themselves, for they would never get away from him in
+any other way. But they asked the giant to let them go. That made him
+so angry that he rushed on them and would have killed them, but he
+fell into a fit and lost for a time the use of his hand, wherefore he
+withdrew and left them as before. Well, towards evening the giant went
+down again to the dungeon to see if his prisoners had followed his
+advice and poisoned themselves. He found them alive, but because of
+their wounds and for want of bread and water they could do little but
+breathe.
+
+Now at night the giant's wife said: "Take the prisoners into the
+castle yard to-morrow, and show them the bones and skulls of those
+prisoners you have already killed. Tell them that in a week you will
+tear them to pieces, as you have torn your other prisoners."
+
+When the morning was come, the giant went to them again and took them
+into the castle yard, and showed them all his wife had bidden him.
+
+"These," said he, "were pilgrims once as you are, but they walked in
+my grounds as you have done. And when I thought fit, I tore them in
+pieces, and so within ten days I will do to you, Get you down to your
+den again," and he beat them all the way there.
+
+That night, about midnight, Christian and Hopeful began to pray, and
+they prayed till dawn of day.
+
+Now just at dawn Christian spoke in sudden amazement. "How foolish we
+are to lie here, when we might be free after all. I have a key in my
+pocket called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in
+Doubting Castle."
+
+Then said Hopeful, "That is good news, pull it out of your pocket and
+try."
+
+Christian pulled it out and began to try the dungeon door, and the
+bolt, as he turned the key, yielded, and the door flew open, and
+Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the door that
+led to the castle yard, and with his key opened that door also. After
+that he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too. That lock
+was terribly hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the
+gate to make their escape in haste, but, as it opened, that gate made
+such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who got up hastily to
+follow his prisoners, but he could not run after them, for again he
+took one of his fits. Then Christian and Hopeful went on till they
+came to the King's highway and so were safe, because they were out of
+the giant's grounds. Now when they had got over the stile, they began
+to wonder what they should do to keep other pilgrims from falling into
+the hands of Giant Despair. So they agreed to put up there a pillar,
+and to write on it this sentence: "Over this stile is the way to
+Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the
+King of the Celestial Country and seeks to destroy His holy pilgrims."
+
+Many pilgrims, that came after, read what was written and escaped
+Giant Despair. They then went on till they came to the Delectable
+Mountains. These mountains belonged to the Lord of the steep hill
+which Christian had climbed. So they went up these mountains to behold
+the gardens and orchards, the vineyards and fountains. There, too,
+they drank and washed themselves and ate the fruit of the vineyards.
+Now there were Shepherds on the mountains, who welcomed them lovingly
+and showed them many wonders. First they took them to the top of a
+hill which was very steep on one side, and bid them look down to the
+bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the bottom
+several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had had from the
+top.
+
+"These," said the Shepherds, "are for an example to others to be
+careful not to clamber too high, or to come too near the brink of this
+mountain." The name of this mountain was Error.
+
+Then the Shepherds took them to the top of another mountain, and the
+name of it was Caution, and the Shepherds bid them look afar off. When
+the pilgrims did this, they saw, as they thought, several men walking
+up and down among the tombs that were there. And they saw that the men
+were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the tombs, and
+because they could not get out from among them.
+
+Then said Christian, "What means this?"
+
+The Shepherds then answered, "Did you see a little below these
+mountains a stile that led into a meadow?"
+
+They answered, "Yes."
+
+"From that stile," said the Shepherds, "there goes a path that leads
+straight to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair. These
+men," and the Shepherds pointed to those among the tombs, "came once
+on a pilgrimage as you do now. But when they came to the stile,
+because the right way was rough, they went over it into the meadow.
+Here they were taken by Giant Despair and cast into Doubting Castle.
+After they had been kept some time in the dungeon, he at last did put
+out their eyes. Then he led them among those tombs, and left them to
+wander there till this very day."
+
+Then Christian and Hopeful thought of their escape from Doubting
+Castle, and they looked at one another with tears in their eyes. But
+yet they said nothing to the Shepherds. Now I saw in my dream that the
+Shepherds brought them to another place, where was a door in the side
+of a hill, and they opened the door and bid the pilgrims look in. They
+looked in therefore and saw that within it was very dark and smoky.
+They also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire,
+and a cry as of some in trouble.
+
+Then said Christian, "What means this?"
+
+The Shepherds said, "This is a byway to hell."
+
+And the Shepherds said one to another, "Let us show the pilgrims the
+gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill to look through our
+glass."
+
+So they took Christian and Hopeful to the top of another high hill,
+called Clear, and gave them the glass to look. They tried to look, but
+the remembrance of that last thing the Shepherds had showed them made
+their hands shake, so that they could not look steadily through the
+glass. Yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also
+some of the beauty of the place. When they were about to depart, one
+of the Shepherds gave them a note of the way. Another of them bid
+them beware when they met the Flatterer. The third bid them take heed
+that they did not sleep upon the Enchanted Ground. And the fourth bid
+them "Godspeed." So I awoke from my dream.
+
+And I slept and dreamed again, and I saw the same two pilgrims going
+down the mountains and along the highway. They went on then till they
+came to a place where they saw another path that seemed to be as
+straight as the way which they should go. And here they knew not which
+of the two to take, for both seemed straight before them, therefore
+here they stood still to think.
+
+And as they were thinking about the way, behold, a man, black of
+flesh, but covered with a very light robe, came to them, and asked
+them why they stood there.
+
+They answered they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not
+which of these ways to take.
+
+"Follow me," said the man. "It is there I am going."
+
+So they followed him in the path that had joined the way, and this
+path slowly turned, and at last turned them so far from the City that
+they wished to go to, that in a little time their faces were turned
+away from it. Yet they still followed him. But by and by before they
+knew what had happened, he led them both into a net, in which they
+were so entangled that they knew not what to do. Then the white robe
+fell off the black man's back, and they knew that he was the Flatterer
+and had brought them into his net. Wherefore there they lay, crying
+some time, for they could not get themselves out. And as they lay
+weeping in the net, they saw a Shining One coming toward them with a
+whip of small cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where
+they were, he asked them whence they came, and what they were doing
+there.
+
+They told him that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led
+out of their way by a black man clothed in white. "He bid us," said
+they, "follow him, for he was going thither too."
+
+Then said the Shining One, "It is a Flatterer that has clothed himself
+like an angel of light." So he rent the net and let the men out. And
+he said to the pilgrims, "Follow me," and he led them back to the way
+which they had left when they followed the Flatterer.
+
+The one with the whip then asked them where they slept last night.
+
+They said, "With the Shepherds on the Delectable Mountains."
+
+He asked them if the Shepherds had not given them a note, telling them
+about the way. They answered, "Yes," but they had forgotten to read
+it. He asked them also if the Shepherds did not tell them to beware of
+the Flatterer. They answered, "Yes," but they did not think that this
+man who spoke so well could be he. Then I saw in my dream that the
+Shining One commanded them to lie down. And he took his whip, and when
+he had whipped them he said, "As many as I love I rebuke and punish,
+be careful therefore and repent."
+
+This done, he bid them go on their way and take good heed to the other
+directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked the Shining One for all
+his kindness, and went gladly along the right way. Now I saw in my
+dream that when the pilgrims had got safely over the Enchanted Ground,
+they entered a beautiful country where the air was very sweet and
+pleasant. Every day they heard continually the singing of birds, and
+every day they saw the flowers appear in the earth. In this country
+the sun shineth night and day, and here they were within sight of the
+City to which they went. So I saw that as they went on, there met them
+two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their faces shone as the
+light. These men asked the pilgrims where they came from, and they
+told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what
+difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in
+the way, and they told them.
+
+Then said the men that met them, "You have but two difficulties more
+to meet and then you are in the City." So they all walked together
+till they came in sight of the gate.
+
+Now I saw that between them and the gate was a river, but there was no
+bridge to go over, and the river was deep. At the sight of the river
+Christian and Hopeful were stunned, but the men that went with them
+said, "You must go through, or you cannot come in at the gate."
+
+The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began to be afraid, and
+looked this way and that way, but could find no way by which to escape
+the river. Then they entered the river, and Christian began to sink
+and to cry out to his friend Hopeful, saying, "I sink in deep waters,
+the billows go over my head."
+
+But Hopeful cheered Christian, and said he felt the ground under his
+feet. Yet a great horror and darkness fell upon Christian, for he
+thought he should never reach the Celestial City, and Hopeful had much
+difficulty to keep his friend's head above water. Then I saw in my
+dream that at last Christian took courage, and soon he found ground to
+stand upon, and the rest of the river was shallow. Thus they got over.
+Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two
+shining men again, who waited there for them, and led them toward the
+gate.
+
+The City stood upon a mighty hill, but the pilgrims went up that with
+ease, talking gladly to their shining companions, and thus they came
+up to the gate.
+
+And over the gate there were written in letters of gold "Blessed are
+they that do the King's Commandments and may enter in through the
+gates into the City."
+
+I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate, and lo! as
+they entered they were transfigured. And they had raiment put on that
+shone like gold. They had harps given to them to praise on, and crowns
+were given to them in token of honor.
+
+Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the City rang again for
+joy, and that it was said, "Enter ye into the joy of your Lord."
+
+Now just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after
+them, and behold, the City shone like the sun, the streets also were
+paved with gold. And I heard many voices saying, "Holy, holy, holy is
+the Lord."
+
+And after that they shut up the gates, and when I had seen this, I
+wished I myself were within. So I awoke, and behold it was a dream.
+
+
+
+
+TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE
+
+By CHARLES AND MARY LAMB
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE TEMPEST
+
+
+There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which
+were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a
+very beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young, that she
+had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.
+
+They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock; it was divided into
+several apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there he
+kept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time
+much affected by all learned men: and the knowledge of this art he
+found very useful to him; for being thrown by a strange chance upon
+this island, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who
+died there a short time before his arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his
+art, released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the
+bodies of large trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked
+commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of
+Prospero. Of these Ariel was the chief.
+
+The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature,
+except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly
+monster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the
+son of his old enemy Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the
+woods, a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape:
+he took him home to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero
+would have been very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban
+inherited from his mother Sycorax, would not let him learn anything
+good or useful: therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch
+wood, and do the most laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of
+compelling him to these services.
+
+When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel (who was invisible
+to all eyes but Prospero's) would come slily and pinch him, and
+sometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel, in the likeness
+of an ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape,
+in the likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way,
+who feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With
+a variety of such-like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him,
+whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to
+do.
+
+Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could by
+their means command the winds, and the waves of the sea. By his orders
+they raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling
+with the wild sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up,
+he showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full
+of living beings like themselves. "O my dear father," said she, "if by
+your art you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad
+distress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! they
+will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the
+earth, rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the
+precious souls within her."
+
+"Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Prospero; "there is no harm
+done. I have so ordered it, that no person in the ship shall receive
+any hurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You
+are ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more
+of me, but that I am your father, and live in this poor cave. Can you
+remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, for
+you were not then three years of age."
+
+"Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda.
+
+"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me what
+you can remember, my child."
+
+Miranda said, "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But
+had I not once four or five women who attended upon me?"
+
+Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it that this still lives
+in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"
+
+"No, sir," said Miranda, "I remember nothing more."
+
+"Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, "I was duke of Milan,
+and you were a princess, and my only heir. I had a younger brother,
+whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and as I was
+fond of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of
+my state affairs to your uncle, my false brother (for so indeed he
+proved). I, neglecting all worldly ends buried among my books, did
+dedicate my whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio
+being thus in possession of my power, began to think himself the duke
+indeed. The opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my
+subjects awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of
+my dukedom: this he soon effected with the aid of the king of Naples,
+a powerful prince, who was my enemy."
+
+"Wherefore," said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"
+
+"My child," answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the love
+that my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when
+we were some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat,
+without either tackle, sail, or mast: there he left us, as he thought,
+to perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, had
+privately placed in the boat, water, provisions, apparel, and some
+books which I prize above my dukedom."
+
+"O my father," said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to you
+then!"
+
+"No, my love," said Prospero, "you were a little cherub that did
+preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me bear up against my
+misfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island,
+since then my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and
+well have you profited by my instructions."
+
+"Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. "Now pray tell me,
+sir, your reason for raising this sea-storm?"
+
+"Know then," said her father, "that by means of this storm, my
+enemies, the king of Naples, and my cruel brother, are cast ashore
+upon this island."
+
+Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic
+wand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then
+presented himself before his master, to give an account of the
+tempest, and how he had disposed of the ship's company, and though the
+spirits were always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she
+should hear him holding converse (as would seem to her) with the empty
+air.
+
+"Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you
+performed your task?"
+
+Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the terrors of
+the mariners; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who
+leaped into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son
+swallowed up by the waves and lost. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in
+a corner of the isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting
+the loss of the king, his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a
+hair of his head is injured, and his princely garments, though
+drenched in the sea-waves, look fresher than before."
+
+"That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring him hither: my
+daughter must see this young prince. Where is the king, and my
+brother?"
+
+"I left them," answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom, they
+have little hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the
+ship's crew not one is missing; though each one thinks himself the
+only one saved: and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the
+harbor."
+
+"Ariel," said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed: but there
+is more work yet."
+
+"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you have
+promised me my liberty. I pray, remember, I have done you worthy
+service, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge
+or grumbling."
+
+"How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freed
+you from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and
+envy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me."
+
+"Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel.
+
+"O, was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been,
+which I find you do not remember. This bad witch, Sycorax, for her
+witchcrafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished from
+Algiers, and here left by the sailors; and because you were a spirit
+too delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a
+tree, where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free
+you from."
+
+"Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "I
+will obey your commands."
+
+"Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." He then gave orders
+what further he would have him do; and away went Ariel, first to where
+he had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the
+same melancholy posture.
+
+"O my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon move
+you. You must be brought, I find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight
+of your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing,
+
+  "Full fathom five thy father lies;
+    Of his bones are coral made;
+  Those are pearls that were his eyes:
+    Nothing of him that doth fade
+  But doth suffer a sea-change
+  Into something rich and strange.
+  Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
+  Hark! now I hear them--Ding-dong, bell."
+
+This strange news of his lost father soon aroused the prince from the
+stupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the
+sound of Ariel's voice, till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who
+were sitting under the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never
+seen a man before, except her own father.
+
+"Miranda," said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder."
+
+"O father," said Miranda, in a strange surprise, "surely that is a
+spirit. How it looks about! Believe me, sir, it is a beautiful
+creature. Is it not a spirit?"
+
+"No, girl," answered her father; "it eats, and sleeps, and has senses
+such as we have. This young man you see was in the ship. He is
+somewhat altered by grief, or you might call him a handsome person. He
+has lost his companions, and is wandering about to find them."
+
+Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and gray beards like her
+father, was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful young
+prince; and Ferdinand, seeing such a lovely lady in this desert place,
+and from the strange sounds he had heard, expecting nothing but
+wonders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that Miranda was
+the goddess of the place, and as such he began to address her.
+
+She timidly answered, she was no goddess, but a simple maid, and was
+going to give him an account of herself, when Prospero interrupted
+her. He was well pleased to find they admired each other, for he
+plainly perceived they had (as we say) fallen in love at first sight:
+but to try Ferdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some
+difficulties in their way: therefore advancing forward, he addressed
+the prince with a stern air, telling him, he came to the island as a
+spy, to take it from him who was the lord of it. "Follow me," said he,
+"I will tie you neck and feet together. You shall drink sea-water;
+shell-fish, withered roots, and husks of acorns shall be your food."
+"No," said Ferdinand, "I will resist such entertainment, till I see a
+more powerful enemy," and drew his sword; but Prospero, waving his
+magic wand, fixed him to the spot where he stood, so that he had no
+power to move.
+
+Miranda hung upon her father, saying, "Why are you so ungentle? Have
+pity, sir; I will be his surety. This is the second man I ever saw,
+and to me he seems a true one."
+
+"Silence," said the father: "one word more will make me chide you,
+girl! What! an advocate for an impostor! You think there are no more
+such fine men, having seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish
+girl, most men as far excel this, as he does Caliban." This he said to
+prove his daughter's constancy; and she replied, "My affections are
+most humble. I have no wish to see a goodlier man."
+
+"Come on, young man," said Prospero to the prince; "you have no power
+to disobey me."
+
+"I have not indeed," answered Ferdinand; and not knowing that it was
+by magic he was deprived of all power of resistance, he was astonished
+to find himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero: looking
+back on Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went after
+Prospero into the cave, "My spirits are all bound up, as if I were in
+a dream: but this man's threats, and the weakness which I feel, would
+seem light to me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair
+maid."
+
+Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell: he soon
+brought out his prisoner, and set him a severe task to perform, taking
+care to let his daughter know the hard labor he had imposed on him,
+and then pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them
+both.
+
+Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood.
+King's sons not being much used to laborious work, Miranda soon after
+found her lover almost dying with fatigue. "Alas!" said she, "do not
+work so hard; my father is at his studies, he is safe for these three
+hours; pray rest yourself."
+
+"O my dear lady," said Ferdinand, "I dare not. I must finish my task
+before I take my rest."
+
+"If you will sit down," said Miranda, "I will carry your logs the
+while." But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a
+help Miranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation,
+so that the business of log-carrying went on very slowly.
+
+Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of
+his love, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was
+standing by them invisible, to overhear what they said.
+
+Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against her
+father's express command she did so.
+
+Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's
+disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall
+in love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by
+forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to a
+long speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above
+all the ladies he ever saw.
+
+In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the
+women in the world, she replied, "I do not remember the face of any
+woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my
+dear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but, believe me,
+sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my
+imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I
+fear I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget."
+
+At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "This
+goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be queen of Naples."
+
+And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for young princes
+speak in courtly phrases), told the innocent Miranda he was heir to
+the crown of Naples, and that she should be his queen.
+
+"Ah! sir," said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I will
+answer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will
+marry me."
+
+Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before
+them.
+
+"Fear nothing, my child," said he; "I have overheard, and approve of
+all you have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I
+will make you rich amends, by giving you my daughter. All your
+vexations were but trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the
+test. Then as my gift, which your true love has worthily purchased,
+take my daughter, and do not smile that I boast she is above all
+praise." He then, telling them that he had business which required his
+presence, desired they would sit down and talk together till he
+returned; and this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to
+disobey.
+
+When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quickly
+appeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's
+brother and the king of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out
+of their senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them to
+see and hear. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for
+want of food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet, and
+then, just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them
+in the shape of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the
+feast vanished away. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming
+harpy spoke to them, reminding them of their cruelty in driving
+Prospero from his dukedom, and leaving him and his infant daughter to
+perish in the sea; saying, that for this cause these terrors were
+suffered to afflict them.
+
+The king of Naples, and Antonio the false brother, repented the
+injustice they had done to Prospero: and Ariel told his master he was
+certain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit,
+could not but pity them.
+
+"Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero: "if you, who are but a
+spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being
+like themselves, have compassion on them? Bring them, quickly, my
+dainty Ariel."
+
+Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in their
+train, who had followed him, wondering at the wild music he played in
+the air to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the
+same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and
+provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish
+in an open boat in the sea.
+
+Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses, that they did not know
+Prospero. He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo, calling
+him the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knew
+that he was the injured Prospero.
+
+Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true repentance,
+implored his brother's forgiveness, and the king expressed his sincere
+remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother: and
+Prospero forgave them; and, upon their engaging to restore his
+dukedom, he said to the king of Naples, "I have a gift in store for
+you too;" and opening a door, showed him his son Ferdinand playing at
+chess with Miranda.
+
+Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this
+unexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in the
+storm.
+
+"O wonder!" said Miranda, "what noble creatures these are! It must
+surely be a brave world that has such people in it."
+
+The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and
+excellent graces of the young Miranda, as his son had been. "Who is
+this maid?" said he; "she seems the goddess that has parted us, and
+brought us thus together." "No, sir," answered Ferdinand, smiling to
+find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he had done when
+he first saw Miranda, "she is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she
+is mine; I chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your
+consent, not thinking you were alive. She is the daughter to this
+Prospero, who is the famous duke of Milan, of whose renown I have
+heard so much, but never saw him till now: of him I have received a
+new life: he has made himself to me a second father, giving me this
+dear lady."
+
+"Then I must be her father," said the king; "but oh! how oddly will it
+sound, that I must ask my child forgiveness."
+
+"No more of that," said Prospero: "let us not remember our troubles
+past, since they so happily have ended." And then Prospero embraced
+his brother, and again assured him of his forgiveness; and said that a
+wise overruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from
+his poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might inherit the crown
+of Naples, for that by their meeting in this desert island, it had
+happened that the king's son had loved Miranda.
+
+These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother,
+so filled Antonio with shame and remorse, that he wept and was unable
+to speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful
+reconciliation, and prayed for blessings on the young couple.
+
+Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor, and the
+sailors all on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany
+them home the next morning. "In the meantime," says he, "partake of
+such refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening's
+entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first
+landing in this desert island." He then called for Caliban to prepare
+some food, and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished
+at the uncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who
+(Prospero said) was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.
+
+Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel from his service,
+to the great joy of that lively little spirit; who, though he had been
+a faithful servant to his master, was always longing to enjoy his free
+liberty, to wander uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, under
+green trees, among pleasant fruits, and sweet-smelling flowers. "My
+quaint Ariel," said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him
+free, "I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom." "Thank you,
+my dear master," said Ariel; "but give me leave to attend your ship
+home with prosperous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance
+of your faithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, how merrily
+I shall live!" Here Ariel sung this pretty song:
+
+  "Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
+  In a cowslip's bell I lie:
+  There I crouch when owls do cry.
+  On the bat's back I do fly
+  After summer Merrily.
+  Merrily, merrily shall I live now
+  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
+
+Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand, for
+he was resolved never more to make use of the magic art. And having
+thus overcome his enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the
+king of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happiness, but to
+revisit his native land, to take possession of his dukedom, and to
+witness the happy nuptials of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand, which
+the king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on
+their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe convoy of the
+spirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage, soon arrived.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
+
+
+There was a law in the city of Athens which gave to its citizens the
+power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased;
+for upon a daughter's refusing to marry the man her father had chosen
+to be her husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause her
+to be put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of
+their own daughters, even though they do happen to prove a little
+refractory, this law was seldom or never put in execution, though
+perhaps the young ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened
+by their parents with the terrors of it.
+
+There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose name was Egeus,
+who actually did come before Theseus (at that time the reigning duke
+of Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia, whom he had
+commanded to marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian family,
+refused to obey him, because she loved another young Athenian, named
+Lysander. Egeus demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that this
+cruel law might be put in force against his daughter.
+
+Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that Demetrius had
+formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena, and that Helena
+loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honorable reason, which
+Hermia gave for not obeying her father's command, moved not the stern
+Egeus.
+
+Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no power to alter the
+laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to
+consider of it: and at the end of that time, if she still refused to
+marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
+
+When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke, she went to
+her lover Lysander, and told him the peril she was in, and that she
+must either give him up and marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four
+days.
+
+Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings; but
+recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from
+Athens, and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not
+be put in force against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the
+boundaries of the city), he proposed to Hermia that she should steal
+out of her father's house that night, and go with him to his aunt's
+house, where he would marry her. "I will meet you," said Lysander, "in
+the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful wood where
+we have so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May."
+
+To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed; and she told no one of her
+intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do
+foolish things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and tell
+this to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit from betraying her
+friend's secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless
+lover to the wood: for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither
+in pursuit of Hermia.
+
+The wood in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet, was the
+favorite haunt of those little beings known by the name of _Fairies_.
+
+Oberon the king, and Titania the queen of the Fairies, with all their
+tiny train of followers, in this wood held their midnight revels.
+
+Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened, at this
+time, a sad disagreement: they never met by moonlight in the shady
+walks of this pleasant wood, but they were quarreling, till all their
+fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.
+
+The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's refusing to give
+Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania's
+friend; and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its
+nurse, and brought him up in the woods.
+
+The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood, as Titania
+was walking with some of her maids of honor, she met Oberon attended
+by his train of fairy courtiers.
+
+"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the fairy king. The queen
+replied, "What, jealous Oberon, is it you? Fairies, skip hence; I have
+forsworn his company." "Tarry, rash fairy," said Oberon; "am not I thy
+lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little
+changeling boy to be my page."
+
+"Set your heart at rest," answered the queen; "your whole fairy
+kingdom buys not the boy of me." She then left her lord in great
+anger. "Well, go your way," said Oberon: "before the morning dawns I
+will torment you for this injury."
+
+Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and privy counselor.
+
+Puck (or as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd
+and knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in the
+neighboring villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming
+the milk, sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the
+butter-churn, and while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the
+churn, in vain the dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into
+butter: nor had the village swains any better success; whenever Puck
+chose to play his freaks in the brewing copper, the ale was sure to be
+spoiled. When a few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable
+ale together, Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of
+a roasted crab, and when some old goody was going to drink he would
+bob against her lips, and spill the ale over her withered chin; and
+presently after, when the same old dame was gravely seating herself to
+tell her neighbors a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her
+three-legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor old
+woman, and then the old gossips would hold their sides and laugh at
+her, and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.
+
+"Come hither, Puck," said Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the
+night; "fetch me the flower which maids call _Love in Idleness_; the
+juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyelids of those who
+sleep, will make them, when they awake, dote on the first thing they
+see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my
+Titania when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when
+she opens her eyes she will fall in love with, even though it be a
+lion or a bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape; and before I will
+take this charm from off her sight, which I can do with another charm
+I know of, I will make her give me that boy to be my page."
+
+Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly diverted with this
+intended frolic of his master, and ran to seek the flower; and while
+Oberon was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and
+Helena enter the wood: he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for
+following him, and after many unkind words on his part, and gentle
+expostulations from Helena, reminding him of his former love and
+professions of true faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the
+mercy of the wild beasts, and she ran after him as swiftly as she
+could.
+
+The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, felt great
+compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk
+by moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in
+those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However that
+might be, when Puck returned with the little purple flower, Oberon
+said to his favorite, "Take a part of this flower; there has been a
+sweet Athenian lady here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if
+you find him sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but
+contrive to do it when she is near him, that the first thing he sees
+when he awakes may be this despised lady. You will know the man by the
+Athenian garments which he wears." Puck promised to manage this matter
+very dexterously: and then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her
+bower, where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a
+bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, under a
+canopy of woodbine, musk-roses, and eglantine. There Titania always
+slept some part of the night; her coverlet the enameled skin of a
+snake, which, though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy
+in.
+
+He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they were to employ
+themselves while she slept. "Some of you," said her majesty, "must
+kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the bats
+for their leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of
+you keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, come not
+near me: but first sing me to sleep. Then they began to sing this
+song:
+
+  "You spotted snakes with double tongue,
+  Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
+  Newts and blindworms do no wrong,
+  Come not near our Fairy Queen.
+  Philomel, with melody,
+  Sing in our sweet lullaby,
+  Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
+  Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
+  Come our lovely lady nigh;
+  So good night with lullaby."
+
+When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby,
+they left her to perform the important services she had enjoined them.
+Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropped some of the
+love-juice on her eyelids, saying,
+
+  "What thou seest when them dost wake,
+  Do it for thy true-love take."
+
+But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of her father's house
+that night, to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry
+Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander
+waiting for her, to conduct her to his aunt's house; but before they
+had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued, that
+Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady, who had proved her
+affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded
+her to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down
+himself on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell fast
+asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young man
+asleep, and perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian
+fashion, and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that
+this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover whom Oberon
+had sent him to seek; and he naturally enough conjectured that, as
+they were alone together, she must be the first thing he would see
+when he awoke; so, without more ado, he proceeded to pour some of the
+juice of the little purple flower into his eyes. But it so fell out,
+that Helena came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the first
+object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes; and strange to relate,
+so powerful was the love-charm, all his love for Hermia vanished away,
+and Lysander fell in love with Helena.
+
+Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder Puck committed
+would have been of no consequence, for he could not love that faithful
+lady too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy
+love-charm, to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another
+lady, and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a
+sad chance indeed.
+
+Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been before related,
+endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely from
+her; but she could not continue this unequal race long, men being
+always better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon lost
+sight of Demetrius; and as she was wandering about, dejected and
+forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping. "Ah!"
+said she, "this is Lysander lying on the ground: is he dead or
+asleep?" Then, gently touching him, she said, "Good sir, if you are
+alive, awake." Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm
+beginning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant
+love and admiration; telling her she as much excelled Hermia in beauty
+as a dove does a raven, and that he would run through fire for her
+sweet sake; and many more such lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing
+Lysander was her friend Hermia's lover, and that he was solemnly
+engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage when she heard herself
+addressed in this manner; for she thought (as well she might) that
+Lysander was making a jest of her. "Oh!" said she, "why was I born to
+be mocked and scorned by every one? Is it not enough, is it not
+enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet look or a kind word
+from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend in this disdainful manner
+to court me? I thought, Lysander, you were a lord of more true
+gentleness." Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and
+Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, who was
+still asleep.
+
+When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone.
+She wandered about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander,
+or which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius not
+being able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with
+his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had
+learnt by some questions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied the
+love-charm to the wrong person's eyes; and now having found the person
+first intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with
+the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw
+being Helena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address
+love-speeches to her; and just as that moment Lysander, followed by
+Hermia (for through Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia's
+turn to run after her lover), made his appearance; and then Lysander
+and Demetrius, both speaking together, made love to Helena, they being
+each one under the influence of the same potent charm.
+
+The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysander, and her once
+dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.
+
+Hermia was as much surprised as Helena: she knew not why Lysander and
+Demetrius, who both before loved her, were now become the lovers of
+Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.
+
+The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of friends, now
+fell to high words together.
+
+"Unkind Hermia," said Helena, "it is you who have set Lysander to vex
+me with mock praises; and your other lover Demetrius, who used almost
+to spurn me with his foot, have you not bid him call me Goddess,
+Nymph, rare, precious, and celestial? He would not speak thus to me,
+whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a jest of me. Unkind
+Hermia, to join with men in scorning your poor friend. Have you forgot
+our school-day friendship? How often, Hermia, have we two, sitting on
+one cushion, both singing one song, with our needles working the same
+flower, both on the same sampler wrought; growing up together in
+fashion of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted! Hermia, it is not
+friendly in you, it is not maidenly to join with men in scorning your
+poor friend."
+
+"I am amazed at your passionate words," said Hermia: "I scorn you not;
+it seems you scorn me." "Ay, do," returned Helena, "persevere,
+counterfeit serious looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my back;
+then wink at each other, and hold the sweet jest up. If you had any
+pity, grace, or manners, you would not use me thus."
+
+While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other,
+Demetrius and Lysander left them, to fight together in the wood for
+the love of Helena.
+
+When they found the gentlemen had left them, they departed, and once
+more wandered weary in the wood in search of their lovers.
+
+As soon as they were gone, the fairy king, who with little Puck had
+been listening to their quarrels, said to him, "This is your
+negligence, Puck; or did you do this wilfully?" "Believe me, king of
+shadows," answered Puck, "it was a mistake; did not you tell me I
+should know the man by his Athenian garments? However, I am not sorry
+this has happened, for I think their jangling makes excellent sport."
+"You heard," said Oberon, "that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to
+seek a convenient place to fight in. I command you to overhang the
+night with a thick fog, and lead these quarrelsome lovers so astray in
+the dark, that they shall not be able to find each other. Counterfeit
+each of their voices to the other, and with bitter taunts provoke them
+to follow you, while they think it is their rival's tongue they hear.
+See you do this, till they are so weary they can go no farther; and
+when you find they are asleep, drop the juice of this other flower
+into Lysander's eyes, and when he awakes he will forget his new love
+for Helena, and return to his old passion for Hermia; and then the two
+fair ladies may each one be happy with the man she loves, and they
+will think all that has passed a vexatious dream. About this quickly,
+Puck, and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania has found."
+
+Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon seeing a clown near her, who
+had lost his way in the wood, and was likewise asleep: "This fellow,"
+said he, "shall be my Titania's true love;" and clapping an ass's head
+over the clown's, it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown upon
+his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass's head on very gently,
+it awakened him, and rising up, unconscious of what Oberon had done to
+him, he went towards the bower where the fairy queen slept.
+
+"Ah! what angel is that I see?" said Titania, opening her eyes, and
+the juice of the little purple flower beginning to take effect: "are
+you as wise as you are beautiful?"
+
+"Why, mistress," said the foolish clown, "if I have wit enough to find
+the way out of this wood, I have enough to serve my turn."
+
+"Out of the wood do not desire to go," said the enamored queen. "I am
+a spirit of no common rate. I love you. Go with me, and I will give
+you fairies to attend upon you."
+
+She then called four of her fairies: their names were, Pease-blossom,
+Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed.
+
+"Attend," said the queen, "upon this sweet gentleman; hop in his
+walks, and gambol in his sight; feed him with grapes and apricots, and
+steal for him the honey-bags from the bees. Come, sit with me," said
+she to the clown, "and let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my
+beautiful ass! and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy!"
+
+"Where is Pease-blossom?" said the ass-headed clown, not much
+regarding the fairy queen's courtship, but very proud of his new
+attendants.
+
+"Here, sir," said little Pease-blossom.
+
+"Scratch my head," said the clown. "Where is Cobweb?"
+
+"Here, sir," said Cobweb.
+
+"Good Mr. Cobweb," said the foolish clown, "kill me the red humblebee
+on the top of that thistle yonder; and, good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the
+honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, Mr. Cobweb,
+and take care the honey-bag break not; I should be sorry to have you
+overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?"
+
+"Here, sir," said Mustard-seed: "what is your will?"
+
+"Nothing," said the clown, "good Mr. Mustard-seed, but to help Mr.
+Pease-blossom to scratch; I must go to a barber's, Mr. Mustard-seed,
+for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the face."
+
+"My sweet love," said the queen, "what will you have to eat? I have a
+venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch you some
+new nuts."
+
+"I had rather have a handful of dried pease," said the clown, who with
+his ass's head had got an ass's appetite. "But, I pray, let none of
+your people disturb me, for I have a mind to sleep."
+
+"Sleep, then," said the queen, "and I will wind you in my arms. O how
+I love you! how I dote upon you!"
+
+When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms of his queen,
+he advanced within her sight, and reproached her with having lavished
+her favors upon an ass.
+
+This she could not deny, as the clown was then sleeping within her
+arms, with his ass's head crowned by her with flowers.
+
+When Oberon had teased her for some time, he again demanded the
+changeling boy; which she, ashamed of being discovered by her lord
+with her new favorite, did not dare to refuse him.
+
+Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so long wished for
+to be his page, took pity on the disgraceful situation into which, by
+his merry contrivance, he had brought his Titania, and threw some of
+the juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy queen
+immediately recovered her senses, and wondered at her late dotage,
+saying how she now loathed the sight of the strange monster.
+
+Oberon likewise took the ass's head from off the clown, and left him
+to finish his nap with his own fool's head upon his shoulders.
+
+Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly reconciled, he related to
+her the history of the lovers, and their midnight quarrels; and she
+agreed to go with him and see the end of their adventures.
+
+The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their fair ladies, at no
+great distance from each other, sleeping on a grass-plot; for Puck, to
+make amends for his former mistake, had contrived with the utmost
+diligence to bring them all to the same spot, unknown to each other;
+and he had carefully removed the charm from off the eyes of Lysander
+with the antidote the fairy king gave to him.
+
+Hermia first awoke, and finding her lost Lysander asleep so near her,
+was looking at him and wondering at his strange inconstancy. Lysander
+presently opening his eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his
+reason which the fairy charm had before clouded, and with his reason,
+his love for Hermia; and they began to talk over the adventures of the
+night, doubting if these things had really happened, or if they had
+both been dreaming the same bewildering dream.
+
+Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake; and a sweet sleep having
+quieted Helena's disturbed and angry spirits, she listened with
+delight to the professions of love which Demetrius still made to her,
+and which, to her surprise as well as pleasure, she began to perceive
+were sincere.
+
+These fair night-wandering ladies, now no longer rivals, became once
+more true friends; all the unkind words which had passed were
+forgiven, and they calmly consulted together what was best to be done
+in their present situation. It was soon agreed that, as Demetrius had
+given up his pretensions to Hermia, he should endeavor to prevail upon
+her father to revoke the cruel sentence of death which had been passed
+against her. Demetrius was preparing to return to Athens for this
+friendly purpose, when they were surprised with the sight of Egeus,
+Hermia's father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway
+daughter.
+
+When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not now marry his daughter,
+he no longer opposed her marriage with Lysander, but gave his consent
+that they should be wedded on the fourth day from that time, being the
+same day on which Hermia had been condemned to lose her life; and on
+that same day Helena joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now
+faithful Demetrius.
+
+The fairy king and queen, who were invisible spectators of this
+reconciliation, and now saw the happy ending of the lovers' history,
+brought about through the good offices of Oberon, received so much
+pleasure, that these kind spirits resolved to celebrate the
+approaching nuptials with sports and revels throughout their fairy
+kingdom.
+
+And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies and their
+pranks, as judging it incredible and strange, they have only to think
+that they have been asleep and dreaming, and that all these adventures
+were visions which they saw in their sleep; and I hope none of my
+readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a pretty
+harmless Midsummer Night's Dream.
+
+
+
+
+OLD-FASHIONED STORIES
+
+
+
+
+SIMPLE SUSAN
+
+By MARIA EDGEWORTH
+
+ADAPTED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+QUEEN OF THE MAY
+
+
+Simple Susan lived one hundred years ago. Mr. Price was Susan's
+father. He rented a small farm and was always hard at work. No more
+honest man could be found far or near, and he loved his little
+daughter from the bottom of his big heart.
+
+Mrs. Price was Susan's mother. She was a good woman who was always
+busy cooking, or cleaning, or sewing. The bread and cakes made by her
+were better than those made by any one else in the village. When she
+was not doing household work, she earned money by taking in plain
+needlework. All who knew Mrs. Price liked her and were sorry she was
+so far from strong. That no girl had a better mother than Susan, every
+one agreed.
+
+John and William were Susan's little brothers. They were quite sure
+that no other boys in all the world had such a good sister as theirs.
+
+Our story begins on the evening before the first of May. Now one
+hundred years ago, Mayday was looked forward to with glee by all
+English children living in the country. Early that morning the lads
+and lasses of the village, gaily decked with flowers, would go merrily
+singing from house to house. In their midst would walk the Queen of
+the May, or sometimes, seated in a chair twined round with blossom,
+she would be carried from door to door by her little companions. With
+a wreath of their gayest flowers they would crown her their Queen, and
+for her would be woven the fairest garlands. After the May carols were
+sung, cake, coppers, or small coins would be given to the boys and
+girls.
+
+To choose their Queen and to arrange their flowers the children would
+meet on the last day of April. This they did in the village where
+Susan lived, and their meeting-place was in a corner of a field close
+by a large pink hawthorn. A shady lane ran past one side of the bush.
+On another side a sweetbrier hedge separated it from the garden
+belonging to an attorney.
+
+This attorney was a very cross man, so cross that the village people
+were always in fear of him. Although he had hedged and fenced his
+garden, it sometimes happened that there would stray into it a pig, or
+a dog, or a goat, or a goose belonging to a poor neighbor. Then the
+attorney would go to the owner of the stray animal and in a harsh
+voice demand money to pay for the damage it had done.
+
+Nor did this cruel man let people walk along the paths through his
+meadows, although they did no harm. He blocked up the stiles with
+stones and prickly shrubs, so that not even a gosling could squeeze
+under them nor a giant climb over. Even the village children were
+afraid to fly their kites near his fields, lest they should get
+entangled in his trees or fall on his ground.
+
+Mr. Case was the name of this attorney, and he had one son and a
+daughter called Barbara.
+
+For long the father paid no attention to the education of his
+children, for all his time and thought were given to money-making.
+Meanwhile Barbara and her brother ran wild with the village children.
+But suddenly Mr. Case decided to send his son to a tutor to learn
+Latin, and to employ a maid to wait upon Barbara. At the same time he
+gave strict orders that his children should no longer play with their
+old companions.
+
+The village children were not at all sorry when they heard this.
+Barbara had not been a favorite among them, for she had always wanted
+to rule them and to secure for herself the chief part in their games.
+When Barbara saw that she was not missed by her old friends she was
+vexed, and she became angry when she found that they paid no attention
+to the grand air with which she now spoke nor to the fine frocks which
+she wore.
+
+To one girl Barbara had a special dislike. This was none other than
+Susan Price, the sweetest-tempered and busiest lass in the village,
+and the pride and delight of all who knew her. The farm rented by
+Susan's father was near the house in which Mr. Case lived, and Barbara
+from her window used to watch Susan at work.
+
+Sometimes the little girl was raking the garden-plots in her neat
+garden; sometimes she was weeding the paths; sometimes she was
+kneeling at her beehive with fresh flowers for her bees, and sometimes
+she was in the hen-yard scattering corn among the eager little
+chickens. In the evening Barbara often saw her sitting in the
+summer-house over which sweet honeysuckle crept, and there, with a
+clean three-legged pine table before her upon which to lay her work,
+Susan would sew busily. Her seams were even and neat, for Mrs. Price
+had taught her daughter that what is worth doing is worth doing well.
+
+Both Susan and her mother were great favorites in the village. It was
+at Mrs. Price's door that the children began their Mayday rounds, and
+it was Susan who was usually Queen of the May.
+
+It was now time for the village children to choose their queen. The
+setting sun was shining full upon the pink blossoms of the hawthorn
+when the merry group met to make their plans for the morrow.
+
+Barbara Case, sulkily walking alone in her father's garden, heard the
+happy voices and, crouching behind the hedge that divided her from the
+other children, she listened to their plans.
+
+"Where is Susan?" were the first words she overheard.
+
+"Yes, where is Susan?" repeated a boy called Philip, stopping short in
+a tune he was playing on his pipe: "I want her to sing me this air, I
+can't remember how it goes."
+
+"And I wish Susan would come, I'm sure," cried Mary, a little girl
+whose lap was full of primroses. "She will give me some thread to tie
+up my nosegays, and she will show me where the fresh violets grow, and
+she has promised to give me a great bunch of her cowslips to wear
+to-morrow. I wish she would come."
+
+"Nothing can be done without Susan!" cried another child. "She always
+shows us where the nicest flowers are to be found in the lanes and
+meadows."
+
+"Susan must help to weave the garlands," said another.
+
+"Susan must be Queen of the May!" shouted several together.
+
+"Why does she not come?" grumbled Philip.
+
+Rose, who was Susan's special friend, now came forward to remind them
+that when Susan was late it was always because she was needed at home.
+
+"Go, Rose, and tell her to make haste," cried the impatient Philip.
+"Attorney Case is dining at the Abbey to-day, and if he comes home and
+finds us here, perhaps he will drive us away. He says this bit of
+ground belongs to his garden, but that is not true, for Farmer Price
+says we have all as much right to it as he has. He wants to rob us of
+our playground. I wish he and Bab, or Miss Barbara, as I suppose we
+must now call her, were a hundred miles away, I do. Just yesterday she
+knocked down my ninepins on purpose as she passed with her gown
+trailing in the dust."
+
+"Yes," cried Mary, "her gown is always trailing. She does not hold it
+up nicely like Susan, and in spite of all her fine clothes she never
+looks half so neat. Mamma says she hopes I shall grow like Susan, and
+so do I. I should not like to be vain like Barbara were I ever so
+rich."
+
+"Rich or poor," said Philip, "it does not become a girl to be vain,
+much less bold, as Barbara was the other day. She stood at her
+father's door, and stared at a strange gentleman who stopped near by,
+to let his horse drink. I know what he thought of Bab, by his looks,
+and of Susan too; for Susan was in her garden, bending down a branch
+of the laburnum-tree, looking at its yellow flowers which had just
+come out, and when the gentleman asked her how many miles it was to
+the next village, she answered him modestly, not bashfully as if she
+had never seen any one before, but just right. Then she pulled on her
+straw hat that had fallen back while she was looking up at the
+laburnum, and went her way home, and the gentleman said to me after
+she was gone, 'Pray, who is that neat, modest girl?' But I wish,"
+cried Philip, interrupting himself, "I wish Susan would come!"
+
+Barbara, still crouching on the other side of the hedge, heard
+everything that was said.
+
+Susan was all this time, as her friend Rose had guessed, busy at home.
+She had been kept by her father's returning later than usual. His
+supper was ready for him nearly an hour before he came home, and Susan
+swept the hearth twice, and twice put on wood to make a cheerful blaze
+for him. At last, when he did come in, he took no notice of the blaze
+or of Susan; and when his wife asked him how he was, he made no
+answer, but stood with his back to the fire, looking very gloomy.
+Susan put his supper upon the table, and set his own chair for him,
+but he pushed away the chair and turned from the table, saying, "I
+shall eat nothing, child. Why have you such a fire to roast me at this
+time of year?"
+
+"You said yesterday, father, I thought, that you liked a little
+cheerful wood-fire in the evening, and there was a great shower of
+hail. Your coat is quite wet. We must dry it."
+
+"Take it, then, child," he said, pulling it off, "I shall soon have no
+coat to dry. Take my hat, too," he went on, throwing it upon the
+ground.
+
+Susan hung up his hat, put his coat over the back of a chair to dry,
+and then stood looking at her mother, who was not well. She had tired
+herself with baking, and now, alarmed by her husband's strange
+conduct, she sat down pale and trembling. The father threw himself
+into a chair, folded his arms, and gazed into the fire.
+
+Susan was the first who ventured to break the silence. Fondling her
+father, she tried to coax him to eat the supper prepared for him.
+This, however, she could not persuade him to do, but he said, with a
+faint smile, that he thought he could eat one of her guinea-hen's
+eggs. Susan thanked him, and showed her eagerness to please her dear
+father by running as fast as she could to her neat chicken-yard. Alas!
+the guinea-fowl was not there. It had strayed into the garden of Mr.
+Case. She could see it through the paling. Going to the garden-gate,
+Susan timidly opened it, and seeing Miss Barbara walk slowly by, she
+asked if she might come in and take her guinea-fowl.
+
+Barbara, who at that moment was thinking of all she had heard the
+village children say, started when she heard Susan's voice.
+
+"Shut the gate," she said crossly, "you have no business in our
+garden. As for the hen, I shall keep it; it is always flying in here
+and plaguing us, and my father told me I might catch it and keep it
+the next time it got in, and it is in now." Then Barbara called to her
+maid Betty and bid her catch the mischievous bird.
+
+"Oh, my guinea-hen! my pretty guinea-hen!" cried Susan, as mistress
+and maid hunted the frightened, screaming creature from corner to
+corner.
+
+"Now we have it!" said Betty, holding it fast by the legs.
+
+"Then pay damages, Queen Susan, or you may say good-by to your pretty
+guinea-hen," said Barbara in a rude tone.
+
+"It has done no damage," said Susan; "but tell me what I must pay."
+
+"A shilling," said Barbara.
+
+"Oh, if only sixpence would do!" said Susan; "I have but sixpence of
+my own in the world, and here it is."
+
+"It won't do," said Barbara, turning her back.
+
+"Nay, but hear me," cried Susan, "let me at least come in to look for
+its eggs. I only want one for my father's supper. You shall have all
+the rest."
+
+"What is your father or his supper to us; is he so particular that he
+can eat none but guinea-hen's eggs?" said Barbara. "If you want your
+hen and your eggs, pay for them, and you shall have them."
+
+"I have only sixpence and you say that won't do," said Susan with a
+sigh, as she looked at her favorite which was in the maid's cruel
+hands, struggling and screaming in vain.
+
+Susan went away feeling very sad. At the door of her father's cottage
+she saw her friend Rose, who had just come to summon her to the
+hawthorn-bush.
+
+"They are all at the hawthorn, and I have come for you. We can do
+nothing without you, dear Susan," cried Rose, running to meet her the
+moment she saw her, "You are chosen Queen of the May--come, make
+haste. But what is the matter? Why do you look so sad?"
+
+"Ah!" said Susan, "don't wait for me; I can't come to you, but," she
+added, pointing to the tuft of cowslips in the garden, "gather those
+for little Mary; I promised them to her, and tell her the violets are
+under a hedge just beside the stile, on the right as we go to church.
+Good-by! never mind me; I can't come--I can't stay, for my father
+wants me."
+
+"But don't turn away your face; I won't keep you a moment; only tell
+me what is the matter," said her friend, following her into the
+cottage.
+
+"Oh, nothing, not much," said Susan; "if I had not wanted the egg in a
+great hurry for father, it would not have vexed me--to be sure I
+should have clipped my guinea-hen's wings, and then she could not have
+flown over the hedge; but let us think no more about it now," she
+added, trying to hide a tear.
+
+When Rose, however, learned that her friend's guinea-hen was kept a
+prisoner by Barbara, she was hot with indignation, and at once ran
+back to tell the story to her companions.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+BAD NEWS
+
+
+As Susan entered the cottage parlor, Farmer Price drew his chair close
+to his wife. "You see there is something amiss with me," he said; "I
+must tell you what it is." Her father lowered his voice, and Susan,
+who was not sure that he wished her to hear what he was going to say,
+moved from behind his chair.
+
+"Susan, don't go; sit down here, sweet Susan," he said, making room
+for her beside him. "I am afraid I was cross when I came in to-night,
+but I had something to vex me, as you shall hear."
+
+Then the farmer told how, a fortnight before, lots had been drawn in
+the nearest town, to see which men there and in the surrounding
+villages should leave home to be trained as soldiers. For a hundred
+years ago it was in this way that men were found to defend their
+country. Only if they were under eighteen or above forty years of age
+could they escape drawing lots.
+
+"Now, as I would be forty in ten days," said the farmer, "I was told
+just to call myself forty then and there; but the truth is the truth,
+and should be spoken at all times, come what may. And when the lots
+were drawn, it fell to me among others to leave home to be trained to
+fight. I was thinking how unhappy we should be to part, when I heard
+that if I paid nine guineas to another man, he would take my place,
+and I could remain at home with you. I had not the money, for you know
+the bad luck we had with the sheep this year, and how they died one
+after the other. But I went to Mr. Case and asked him to lend me the
+money. He said he would if I handed over to him my lease, for he said,
+'If you do not repay me the guineas I shall keep the lease until you
+do.'"
+
+"That was a fortnight ago, and to-night Attorney Case tells me he has
+discovered that, owing to some mistake in the lease, we may be turned
+out of the farm at any time. But I've not come to the worst part yet."
+
+Here Farmer Price stopped short, and his wife and Susan gazed
+anxiously into his face.
+
+"The truth must be told," he said with a deep sigh, "I must now leave
+you in three days."
+
+"Must you?" said his wife faintly. "Susan dear, open the window."
+Susan ran to do as she was bid, and then returned to her mother's
+side. The fresh air soon revived the poor woman, and she begged her
+husband to go on with his story, and to hide nothing from her.
+
+Farmer Price had no wish to hide anything from those he loved so well.
+He believed that the truth should be spoken at all times, but never
+had he found it so difficult as at this moment. What had happened was
+this. Attorney Case had met Farmer Price that evening. The farmer was
+coming home, whistling, from a new-plowed field. The Attorney was on
+horseback, and had just dined at the Abbey with Sir Arthur Somers.
+The Abbey had until lately belonged to Sir Arthur's elder brother,
+but now that he was dead, Sir Arthur owned the estate.
+
+Attorney Case had looked after the property for the elder brother, and
+was anxious to be employed by Sir Arthur. There were many farms on the
+estate, and it had been part of the Attorney's work to look after the
+repairs and to collect the rents. Unfortunately, he had an unpleasant
+way of dealing with the farmers, ordering them as he had no right to
+do, and being harsh with those who, through misfortune, had not enough
+money to to pay their rent in full. As the Attorney met Farmer Price
+he stopped him, saying, "A word with you, Farmer Price, if you please.
+Walk alongside my horse, and listen. You know the field with the pink
+hawthorn where the village children play? I am going to add it to my
+garden. I hear you say it does not belong to me. What do you mean by
+that?"
+
+"I mean what I say," said Price; "the field is not yours." So angry
+was the Attorney on hearing this, that he at once made up his mind to
+hurt the farmer as much as he could.
+
+"My good man," he said, "you will remember that a fortnight ago I lent
+you nine guineas. To-morrow morning you must return them to me."
+
+"Those guineas," replied the farmer, "I paid, as you know, to the man
+who said he would go instead of me to be trained as a soldier. But he
+has not yet gone, and I can still get the guineas back from him and go
+myself to be trained."
+
+The Attorney was not prepared for this answer. "I do not want to drive
+you to that," he said, pretending to be kind. "Now about the
+field--you do not want to add it to the farm, do you?"
+
+"Certainly not, for it is not mine."
+
+"Then why object to my having it?"
+
+"Because it is not yours. The children who play there have the right.
+It belongs to the village. Truth is truth."
+
+"And a debt is a debt," shouted the angry Attorney, "and must be paid.
+Bring me my nine guineas!"
+
+With a heavy heart Farmer Price walked on. He passed the door of his
+cottage and went in search of the man to whom he had paid the money.
+The man was quite willing to return it, as there were many others, he
+said, who would be willing to give him the same sum or more for his
+services. The moment Price got the money he took it straight to Mr.
+Case, laid it on his desk and was going away, when the Attorney called
+out, "Not so fast, you have forgotten your lease."
+
+"Ah yes! my lease, I had forgotten it. Let me have it."
+
+"Pardon me," said the Attorney with a cruel smile, "but I cannot let
+you have it. On reading it over I find that owing to a mistake you may
+be turned out of the farm at any time. I must keep it to show to Sir
+Arthur. I have no doubt he will want me to look after things for him
+as I did for his brother. Now perhaps you wish you had quietly let me
+add the field to my garden."
+
+Farmer Price said nothing, but dragged himself home a sad man.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+SUSAN'S GUINEA-FOWL
+
+
+When Susan had heard her father's story, she quite forgot the loss of
+her guinea-hen, and thought only of her poor mother who, try as she
+might, could not bear the bad news. In the middle of the night Susan
+was roused, as Mrs. Price had become ill, and it was not until early
+morning that the poor woman fell asleep, her daughter's hand locked
+fast in hers. Susan remained sitting by the bedside, breathing
+quietly. Then seeing the candle burn low, she gently withdrew her
+hand, and on tiptoe went to put out the light, lest the unpleasant
+smell should wake her mother. All was silent. The gray light of dawn
+stole into the little room; the sun rose slowly, and Susan peered
+through the small panes of the lattice window at the glorious sight. A
+few birds began to chirp, and as the little girl listened to them, her
+mother started and spoke in her sleep. Susan quickly hung up a white
+apron before the window to keep out the light, and at the same moment
+she heard in the distance the voices of the village children singing
+their Mayday songs. Soon she could see them, Philip leading the way
+playing upon his pipe and tabor, the others following with nosegays
+and garlands in their hands. They were coming towards the cottage.
+Quickly but quietly Susan unlatched the door and ran to meet them.
+
+"Here she is!--here's Susan!" they exclaimed joyfully.
+
+"Here's the Queen of the May!"
+
+"And here's her crown!" cried Rose, pressing forward.
+
+But Susan put her finger to her lips, and pointed to her mother's
+window. Philip's pipe stopped at once.
+
+"Thank you," said Susan, "but my mother is ill. I can't leave her, you
+know." Then as she gently put aside the crown, her companions asked
+her to say who should wear it for her.
+
+"Will you, dear Rose?" she said, placing the garland upon her friend's
+head. "It's a charming May morning," she added, with a smile;
+"good-by. We shall not hear your voices or the pipe when you have
+turned the corner into the village, so you need only stop till then,
+Philip."
+
+"I shall stop for all day," said Philip: "I've no wish to play any
+more."
+
+"Good-by, poor Susan! It is a pity you can't come with us," said all
+the children.
+
+Little Mary ran after Susan to the cottage door. "I forgot to thank
+you," she said, "for the cowslips. Look how pretty they are, and smell
+how sweet the violets are that I wear, and kiss me quick or I shall be
+left behind."
+
+Susan kissed the little breathless girl, and returned softly to the
+side of her mother's bed. "How grateful that child is to me for a
+cowslip only! How can I be grateful enough to such a mother as this?"
+she said to herself, as she bent over the pale face of her sleeping
+mother.
+
+Her mother's unfinished knitting lay upon a table near the bed, and
+Susan sat down in her wicker armchair, and went on with the row, in
+the middle of which Mrs. Price had stopped the evening before. "She
+taught me to knit, she taught me everything that I know," thought
+Susan, "and best of all, she taught me to love her, to wish to be like
+her." Mrs. Price, when she awoke, felt much better, but slowly there
+came back to her memory the sad news she had heard the evening before.
+She asked herself if it could have been a dream, but no, it was all
+too true. She could recall her husband's look as he had said, "I must
+leave you in three days." Then suddenly she roused herself. "Why!
+he'll want, he'll want a hundred things," she said. "I must get his
+linen ready for him. I'm afraid it's very late. Susan, why did you let
+me sleep so long?"
+
+"Everything shall be ready, dear mother; only don't hurry," said
+Susan. And indeed her mother was not able to bear any hurry, or to do
+any work that day. Susan's loving help was never more wanted. She
+understood so well, she obeyed so exactly, and when she was left to
+herself, judged so wisely, that her mother had little trouble in
+directing her. She said that Susan never did too little or too much.
+
+Susan was mending her father's linen, when Rose tapped softly at the
+window, and beckoned to her to come out. She went.
+
+"How is your mother, in the first place?" said Rose.
+
+"Better, thank you."
+
+"That is nice, and I have a little bit of good news for you
+besides--here," she said, pulling out a purse, in which there was
+money. "We'll get the guinea-hen back again--we have all agreed about
+it. This is the money that has been given to us in the village this
+May morning. At every door they gave silver. See how generous they
+have been--twelve shillings. Now we are a match for Miss Barbara. You
+won't like to leave home, so I'll go to her, and you shall see your
+guinea-hen in ten minutes."
+
+Rose hurried away, filled with joy at the thought that soon she would
+return to Susan with her lost bird.
+
+Miss Barbara's maid, Betty, was the first person she saw on reaching
+the Attorney's house. Rose said she must see Barbara and was shown
+into a parlor where the young lady sat reading a book.
+
+"How you startled me! Is it only you?" she said, looking up and seeing
+no one but the maid. Then, as she caught sight of Rose, she went on,
+"You should have said I was not at home. Pray, my good girl, what do
+you want?" she said, turning to Rose. "Is it to borrow or to beg that
+you are here?"
+
+"The person from whom I come does not wish either to borrow or to beg,
+but to pay for what she asks," answered Rose. Then opening her
+well-filled purse, she held out to Barbara a bright shilling, saying,
+"Now please be so good as to give me Susan's guinea-hen."
+
+"You may keep your shilling," replied Barbara. "It would have been
+enough if it had been paid yesterday when I asked for it, but I told
+Susan that as it was not paid then I should keep the hen, and I shall.
+You may go back and tell her so."
+
+While Barbara spoke she had been looking into the open purse in Rose's
+hand. She thought she could count at least ten shillings. Could she
+not manage to get at least five of them for the guinea-hen, she
+wondered?
+
+Rose little guessed what was going on in Barbara's mind, and exclaimed
+angrily, "We must have Susan's favorite hen, whatever it costs. If one
+shilling won't do, take two. If two won't do, take three," and she
+flung the coins one after the other on the table.
+
+"Three won't do," said Barbara.
+
+"Then take four."
+
+Barbara shook her head.
+
+A fifth shilling was offered, but Barbara, seeing that she had the
+game in her own hands, was silent.
+
+Then Rose threw down shilling after shilling, till twelve bright
+pieces lay on the table, and her purse was empty.
+
+"Now you may take the guinea-hen," said Barbara.
+
+Rose pushed the money towards the greedy girl, but at the same moment
+remembered that it had not belonged to herself alone. At once she
+seized the silver coins, and saying that she must first see if the
+friends with whom she shared them were willing to part with them, she
+ran off.
+
+When the children heard Rose's story, they were amazed, that even
+Barbara could be so mean, but they all agreed that at any cost the
+guinea-fowl must be set free. In a body they went to Susan and told
+her so, at the same time handing her the purse. Then they ran off
+without waiting to be thanked. Rose only stayed behind. Susan knew
+that she must accept the present gladly, just as she would give one
+gladly. She was much touched by the kindness of her friends, but she
+took the purse as simply as she would have given it.
+
+"Well," said Rose, "shall I go back for the guinea-hen?"
+
+"The guinea-hen!" said Susan, starting from a dream into which she had
+fallen as she looked at the purse. "Certainly I do long to see my
+pretty guinea-hen once more; but I was not thinking of her just
+then--I was thinking of my father."
+
+Now Susan had often that day heard her mother wish that she had but
+money enough in the world to pay to the man who was willing to be
+trained to fight instead of her husband.
+
+"This, to be sure, will go but a little way," thought Susan; "but
+still it may be of some use." She told her thought to Rose, and ended
+by saying that if the money was given to her to spend as she pleased,
+she would give it to her father.
+
+"It is all yours, my dear, good Susan!" cried Rose. "This is so like
+you!--but I'm sorry that Miss Bab must keep your guinea-hen. I would
+not be her for all the guinea-hens, or guineas either, in the whole
+world. Why, the guinea-hen won't make her happy, and you'll be happy
+even without it, because you are good. Let me come and help you
+to-morrow," she went on, looking at Susan's work, "if you have any
+more mending to do--I never liked work till I worked with you. I won't
+forget my thimble or my scissors," she added, laughing--"though I used
+to forget them when I was a wilder girl. I assure you I am clever with
+my needle now--try me."
+
+Susan told her friend that she would most gladly accept her help, but
+that she had finished all the needlework that was wanted at present.
+"But do you know," she went on, "I shall be very busy to-morrow. I
+won't tell you what it is that I have to do, for I am afraid I shall
+not succeed, but if I do succeed, I'll come and tell you directly,
+because you will be so glad."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+SUSAN VISITS THE ABBEY
+
+
+Susan, who had always been attentive to what her mother taught her,
+and who had often helped her when she was baking bread and cakes for
+the family at the Abbey, now thought that she could herself bake a
+batch of bread. One of the new servants from the Abbey had been sent
+all round the village in the morning in search of loaves, and had not
+been able to procure any that were eatable. Mrs. Price's last baking
+had failed for want of good yeast. She was not now strong enough to
+attempt another herself, and when the brewer's boy came to tell her
+that he had some fine fresh yeast, she thanked him, but sighed and
+said she feared it would be of little use to her. But Susan went to
+work with great care, and the next morning when her bread came out of
+the oven, it was excellent: at least her mother said so, and she was a
+good judge. It was sent to the Abbey, and as the family had not tasted
+any good bread since they had come there, they also were warm in its
+praise. With some surprise, they heard from the housekeeper that this
+excellent bread was made by a young girl only twelve years old. The
+housekeeper, who had known Susan since she was a child, was pleased to
+have a chance to speak about her.
+
+"She is the busiest little creature, ma'am, in the world," she said to
+her mistress. "I can't so well call her little now though, since she's
+grown tall and slender to look at; and glad I am she is grown up good
+to look at; for handsome is that handsome does, ma'am. She thinks no
+more of her being handsome than I do myself; yet she has as proper a
+respect for herself, ma'am, as you have; and I always see her neat,
+and she is always with her mother, or fit people, as a girl should be.
+As for her mother, she dotes upon her, as well she may; for I should
+myself if I had half such a daughter, ma'am; and then she has two
+little brothers, and she's as good to them and, my boy Philip says,
+taught them to read more than the school-mistress did; but I beg your
+pardon, ma'am, I cannot stop myself when I once begin to talk of
+Susan."
+
+"You have really said enough to make me wish to see her," said her
+mistress. "Pray send for her now; we can see her before we go out to
+walk."
+
+The kind housekeeper gladly sent off her boy Philip for Susan, who was
+never so untidy that she could not come at once when sent for. She had
+been very busy, but orderly people can be busy and neat at the same
+time. Putting on her usual straw hat, she set out for the Abbey. On
+the way she overtook Rose's mother, who was going there too with a
+basket of fresh muslin. When Susan reached the Abbey, her simple dress
+and manners and the good sense with which she answered the questions
+put to her, pleased the ladies greatly. They saw that the housekeeper
+had not spoken too highly of the farmer's daughter.
+
+These two ladies were the sisters of Sir Arthur Somers. They were kind
+and wise; kind in wishing to spread happiness among their poor
+neighbors, and wise in wishing these people to be happy in their own
+way. They did not wish to manage them, but only to help them. As Sir
+Arthur was always willing to aid his sisters, it seemed as if they
+would prove a blessing in in the village near which they had come to
+live. When Susan took leave of the ladies, she was told they would
+call at her home that evening at six o'clock. Such a grand event as
+Susan's visit to the Abbey soon became known to Barbara Case and her
+maid, and together they watched for her return.
+
+"There she is! She has just gone into her garden," cried Bab; "we'll
+run in at once and hear all about it."
+
+Susan was gathering some marigolds and parsley for her mother's soup.
+"Well, Susan, and how are things going with you to-day?" asked
+Barbara.
+
+"My mother is rather better, she says; thank you, ma'am."
+
+"'Ma'am, how polite we have grown all of a sudden!" said Bab, winking
+at her maid. "One can see you have been in good company. Come, tell us
+all about it."
+
+"Did you see the ladies themselves," asked Betty, "or only the
+housekeeper?"
+
+"What room were you in?" went on Bab. "Did you see Miss Somers or Sir
+Arthur?"
+
+"Miss Somers," replied Susan.
+
+"Betty, she saw Miss Somers! I must hear about it. Susan, stop
+gathering those things, and have a chat with us."
+
+"I can't indeed, Miss Barbara, for my mother wants her soup, and I am
+in a hurry." And Susan ran home.
+
+"Would you believe it, her head is full of soup now?" said Bab to her
+maid. "She seems to think nothing of her visit to the Abbey. My papa
+may well call her _Simple Susan_. But simple or not I mean to get what
+I want out of her. Maybe when she has settled the grand matter of the
+soup, she'll be able to speak. I'll step in and ask to see her mother.
+That will put her in a good humor in a trice."
+
+Barbara went to the cottage and found Susan standing over a pot on the
+fire. "Is the soup ready?" she asked. "I'll wait till you take it in
+to your mother and go in with you. I want to ask her how she is,
+myself."
+
+"Sit down then, miss," said Susan, "I have put in the parsley, so the
+soup is nearly ready."
+
+Barbara sat down and plied Susan with questions. How was Miss Somers
+dressed? Were the sisters dressed alike? What were they having for
+dinner at the Abbey? Above all, what could Miss Somers mean by saying
+she would call at Farmer Price's cottage at six o'clock that evening?
+"What do you think she could mean?" asked Barbara.
+
+"What she said," replied Susan, "that she would be here at six
+o'clock."
+
+"That's plain enough," said Barbara, "but what else do you think she
+meant? People, you know, often mean more or less than they say."
+
+"They do," answered Susan, with a smile that made Barbara guess of
+whom she was thinking.
+
+But Bab did not mean Susan to know that she guessed, so she said, "I
+suppose you think that Miss Somers meant more than she said?"
+
+"I was not thinking of Miss Somers when I said what I did," replied
+Susan.
+
+There was a pause, and then Bab remarked, "How nice the soup looks!"
+
+Susan had poured it into a basin, and as she dropped over it the
+bright yellow marigold, it looked very tempting. She tasted it and
+added a little salt; tasted it again, and added a little more. Then
+she thought it was just as her mother liked it.
+
+"Oh, I must taste it!" said Bab, seizing the basin greedily.
+
+"Won't you take a spoon?" said Susan, trembling as she saw the big
+mouthfuls Barbara took with a loud noise.
+
+"Take a spoon, indeed!" exclaimed Bab. "How dare you, how dare you
+speak so to me? 'Take a spoon, pig!' was what you meant to say! I'll
+never enter your cottage again!" And she flounced out of the house.
+
+Susan stood still, amazed at the beginning of Barbara's speech, but
+her last words explained the sudden outburst.
+
+Some years before this time, when Susan was a very little girl and
+could scarcely speak, as she was eating a basin of bread and milk for
+supper at the cottage door, a great pig came up and put his nose into
+the basin. Susan was willing that the pig should have some share of
+the bread and milk, but as she ate with a spoon and he with his large
+mouth, she soon found that he was likely to have more than his share;
+and she said to him, "Take a poon, pig." The saying became a proverb
+in the village, and Susan's little companions quoted it when any one
+claimed more than his share of anything good. Barbara, who was then
+not Miss Barbara, but plain Bab, and who played with all the poor
+children in the village, was often reproved by Susan's proverb. Susan,
+as she grew up, forgot the childish saying, but Barbara remembered it,
+and it was this that she thought was in Susan's mind when she asked
+her to take a spoon.
+
+"Indeed, miss," said Betty, when she found Barbara in a passion upon
+her return from the cottage, "indeed I wonder you set your foot within
+the door. Your own papa has been at the Abbey all morning, and you can
+hear all you wish to know from him."
+
+Barbara at once ran to her father's parlor, but saw at a glance that
+he was in no mood to answer questions. Instead of leaving him alone,
+she did all in her power to find out why he had been at the Abbey, and
+what he had seen and heard there. And when she found that her father
+would tell her nothing, she ran back to her maid, saying, "Papa is so
+cross! I cannot put up with him."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+SUSAN'S PET LAMB
+
+
+It is true that Attorney Case was not in a happy mood. His visit to
+the Abbey had made him feel sure that Sir Arthur and he would not
+agree about the treatment of the farmers who lived on the estate. One
+matter they had talked about was Sir Arthur's wish to enlarge his
+grounds and make a drive round them. A map of the estate lay upon the
+table and they looked at it together.
+
+"Ah! but I see this new road for the drive would run through Farmer
+Price's garden," said Sir Arthur. "That would never do."
+
+"It need not trouble you," said Attorney Case, "you may do as you like
+with Price's land."
+
+"How so?" asked Sir Arthur. "His lease will not be out for ten years,
+I believe."
+
+"True, that would have been the case had there not been a mistake in
+it. I have the lease and can show you." The heartless man then went on
+to explain to Sir Arthur what the mistake was.
+
+Sir Arthur remained silent.
+
+"Oh! I see," said the Attorney. "You do not wish to annoy Farmer
+Price. But just put the matter into my hands and I will manage it for
+you."
+
+"You seem to forget that to take the farm out of this poor man's hands
+would be to ruin him," replied Sir Arthur, quietly.
+
+"Indeed," said the wicked Attorney, "indeed I should be sorry for
+that, if it were not that Farmer Price is such an unruly, stubborn
+man."
+
+"An unruly man, is he? If that be so, the sooner he leaves the place
+the better. When you go home, you will be good enough to send me the
+lease that I may, for myself, see the mistake."
+
+Attorney Case got up to go. But before he went, he thought he must try
+to find out if Sir Arthur was going to employ him to look after the
+estate, that is, if he was to be the agent. "I will not trouble you
+about this lease, Sir Arthur," he said, "but will hand it to your
+agent, if you will inform me who is to have that post."
+
+"I mean to be my own agent," answered Sir Arthur, "and will myself
+look after the happiness of the people among whom I have come to
+live."
+
+It was the surprise of this reply that had sent Attorney Case home so
+cross that Barbara had said to Betty she could not put up with him.
+
+When his daughter had left him atone, the Attorney walked up and down
+the room deep in thought. "At any rate," he said to himself at last,
+"if Sir Arthur means to manage the estate himself in summer, he at
+least will need an agent in winter. I must try to get the post." And
+he still walked up and down, trying to think of some plan by which he
+would find favor at the Abbey. Now that morning he had heard the
+housekeeper at the Abbey ask the servants if any lamb were to be had
+in the village, as Sir Arthur would like to have it one day soon for
+dinner.
+
+Knowing that he himself treated those farmers best who from time to
+time gave him presents, Attorney Case thought that if he sent a gift
+to Sir Arthur, it might help him to get what he wished.
+
+No sooner had the idea struck him than the Attorney went to the
+kitchen. Standing at the door was a shepherd-boy. Barbara, too, was
+there.
+
+"Do you know of a nice fat lamb?" the Attorney asked the lad.
+
+Before the shepherd-boy could answer, Barbara exclaimed, "I know of
+one. Susan Price has a pet lamb that is as fat as fat can be."
+
+At once Attorney Case walked over to Farmer Price's cottage. He found
+Susan packing her father's little wardrobe, and as she looked up, he
+saw she had been in tears.
+
+"How is your mother to-day, Susan?" inquired the Attorney.
+
+"Worse, sir. My father goes to-morrow."
+
+"That's a pity."
+
+"It can't be helped," said Susan, with a sigh.
+
+"It can't be helped--how do you know that?" said Mr. Case.
+
+"Sir, dear sir!" cried she, looking up at him, and a sudden ray of
+hope beamed in her sweet face.
+
+"What if you could help it, Susan?" he said.
+
+Susan clasped her hands in silence.
+
+"You can help it, Susan." She started up. "What would you give now to
+have your father at home for a whole week longer?"
+
+"Anything!--but I have nothing."
+
+"Yes, you have a lamb," said the hard-hearted Attorney.
+
+"My poor little Daisy!" said Susan; "but what good can she do?"
+
+"What good can any lamb do? Is not lamb good to eat? Why do you look
+so pale, girl? Are not sheep killed every day, and don't you eat
+mutton? Is your lamb better than anybody else's, think you?"
+
+"I don't know," said Susan, "but I love her dearly."
+
+"More silly you," said he.
+
+"She feeds out of my hand, she follows me about; I have always taken
+care of her; my mother gave her to me."
+
+"Well, say no more about it, then; if you love your lamb better than
+both your father and your mother, keep it, and good morning to you."
+
+"Stay, oh stay!" cried Susan, catching his coat with an eager,
+trembling hand--"a whole week, did you say? My mother may get better
+in that time. No, I do not love Daisy half so well." The struggle in
+her mind ceased, and with a calm voice she said, "Take the lamb."
+
+"Where is it?" said the Attorney.
+
+"Grazing in the meadow, by the river-side."
+
+"It must be brought up before nightfall for the butcher, remember."
+
+"I shall not forget it," said Susan, steadily.
+
+As soon, however, as the cruel man turned his back and left the house,
+Susan sat down, and hid her face in her hands. She was soon roused by
+the sound of her mother's feeble voice calling her from the inner room
+where she lay. Susan went in.
+
+"Are you there, love? I thought I heard some strange voice just now
+talking to my child. Something's amiss, Susan," her mother went on,
+raising herself as well as she could in bed, to look at her daughter's
+face.
+
+"Would you think it amiss, then, my dear mother," said Susan, stooping
+to kiss her--"would you think it amiss if my father was to stay with
+us a week longer?"
+
+"Susan! you don't say so?"
+
+"He is, indeed, a whole week--but how burning hot your hand is
+still."
+
+"Are you sure he will stay?" asked her mother. "How do you know? Who
+told you so? Tell me all quick!"
+
+"Attorney Case told me so; he can get him leave for a week longer, and
+he has promised he will."
+
+"God bless him for it for ever and ever!" said the poor woman, joining
+her hands. "May the blessing of Heaven be with him!"
+
+Susan was silent. The next moment she was called out of the room, for
+a messenger had come from the Abbey for the bread-bill. Susan always
+made out the bills, for although she had not had many writing-lessons,
+she had taken great pains to learn, and wrote in a neat, clear hand.
+It is true she was in no mood to write or add now, but the work must
+be done. Having carefully ruled lines for the pounds, shillings and
+pence, she made out the bill and gave it to the boy who waited for it.
+Then she said to herself she would make out the other bills, for many
+of the people in the village had bought a few loaves and rolls of her
+making. "And when these are done, I may go down to the meadow to take
+leave of my poor lamb."
+
+But Susan could not find her slate, and when she did find it many of
+the figures were blurred, for Barbara had sat upon it. And then the
+numbers seemed to dance before her, and each time that she added, the
+answer was different. She went over and over the sums until her head
+ached. The table was covered with little square bits of paper on which
+she had written the bills when her father came in, holding in his hand
+an account.
+
+"Look at this, Susan!" he said, handing it to her. "How could you be
+so careless, child? What have you been thinking about to let a bill
+like that go to the Abbey? Luckily, I met the messenger and asked to
+see how much it was. Look at it."
+
+Susan looked and blushed. Instead of "loaves" she had written "lambs."
+She altered the mistake and handed the bill to her father. He,
+meantime, was looking at the papers lying on the table.
+
+"What are all these, child?" he asked.
+
+"Some of them were wrong, and I wrote them out again."
+
+"Some of them! All of them as far as I can see," said her father
+rather angrily, pointing to the papers.
+
+Susan read the bills. Most of them were for lambs instead of for
+loaves or rolls. Her thoughts had indeed been running upon the pet she
+was to part with so soon.
+
+Once more she wrote the bills, and her father, who was struck by the
+patient way she set to work, said he would himself collect the money.
+He would be proud to be able to say to the neighbors that it was all
+earned by his own little daughter. Susan heard him sigh as he passed
+the knapsack she had packed for him, but she thought she would keep
+the pleasure of telling him of his week's leave until he came home. He
+had said he would have supper in her mother's room. She would tell the
+good news then. "How delighted he will be when he hears," she said to
+herself, "but I know he will be sorry too for poor Daisy."
+
+Susan thought she would now have time to run down to the meadow by the
+river-side to see her favorite, but just as she had tied on her straw
+hat the clock struck four. This was the hour at which she always went
+to fetch her brothers from the school near the village. So, as she
+knew that the little boys would be sorry if she were late, she put off
+her visit to the lamb and went at once to meet them.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE BLIND HARPER
+
+
+The dame-school, which was about a mile from the village, was a long,
+low house with a thatched roof. It was sheltered by a few old oaks,
+under which the grandparents and great-grandparents of the children
+now at school had played long ago. The play-green sloped down from the
+front of the school, and was enclosed by a rough paling. The children
+obeyed and loved the dame who taught them, for she was ever quick to
+praise them when they did well, and to give them all the pleasure she
+could. Susan had been taught by her, and the dame often told her
+little pupils that they must try to be like her, wise and modest,
+gentle and kind. As she now opened the gate, she heard the merry
+voices of the little ones, and saw them streaming out of the narrow
+door and scattering over the green.
+
+"Oh, there's Susan!" cried her two little brothers, running, leaping
+and bounding up to her; and many of the other rosy boys and girls
+crowded round her to tell of their games.
+
+Susan always liked to hear of all that made others happy, but she had
+to tell the children that if they all spoke at once she would not be
+able to hear what any of them said. The voices were still raised one
+above the other, all eager to tell about ninepins, or marbles, or
+tops, or bows and arrows, when suddenly music was heard. The children
+at once became silent, and looked round to see whence the sound came.
+Susan pointed to the great oak-tree, and they saw, sitting under its
+shade, an old man playing upon his harp. The children all drew near
+quietly, for the music was solemn; but as the harper heard little
+footsteps coming towards him, he played one of his more lively tunes.
+The merry troop pressed nearer and nearer to the old man. Then some of
+those who were in front whispered to each other, "He is blind." "What
+a pity!" "He looks very poor." "What a ragged coat he wears!" "He must
+be very old, for his hair is white; and he must have come a long way,
+for his shoes are quite worn out."
+
+All this was said while the harper tuned his harp. When he once more
+began to play, not a word was spoken, but every now and again there
+was a cry of delight. The old man then let the children name the airs
+they would like best to hear. Each, time Susan spoke, he turned his
+face quickly to where she stood, and played the tune she asked for
+over and over again.
+
+"I am blind," he said, "and cannot see your faces, but I can tell
+something about each of you by your voices."
+
+"Can you indeed?" cried Susan's little brother William, who was now
+standing between the old man's knees. "It was my sister Susan who
+spoke last. Can you tell us something about her?"
+
+"That I can, I think," said the harper, lifting the little boy on his
+knee. "Your sister Susan is good-natured."
+
+William clapped his hands.
+
+"And good-tempered."
+
+"Right," said little William, clapping louder than before.
+
+"And very fond of the little boy who sits on my knee."
+
+"Oh! right, right, quite right!" exclaimed the child, and "quite
+right" echoed on all sides.
+
+"But how do you know so much, when you are blind?" said William,
+looking hard at the old man.
+
+"Hush!" whispered John, who was a year older than his brother and very
+wise, "you should not remind him that he is blind."
+
+"Though I am blind," said the harper, "I can hear, you know, and I
+heard from your sister herself all that I told you of her, that she
+was good-tempered and good-natured and fond of you."
+
+"Oh, that's wrong--you did not hear all that from her, I'm sure," said
+John, "for nobody ever hears her praising herself."
+
+"Did not I hear her tell you," said the harper, "when you first came
+round me, that she was in a great hurry to go home, but that she would
+stay a little while, since you wished it so much? Was not that
+good-natured? And when you said you did not like the tune she liked
+best, she was not angry with you, but said, 'Then play William's
+first, if you please.' Was not that good-tempered?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said William, "it's all true; but how did you find out she
+was fond of me?"
+
+"That is such a hard question," said the harper, "that I must take
+time to think."
+
+He tuned his harp, as he thought, or seemed to think, and at this
+instant two boys, who had been searching for birds' nests in the
+hedges and who had heard the sound of the harp, came blustering up,
+and pushing their way through the circle, one of them exclaimed,
+"What's going on here? Who are you, my old fellow? A blind harper!
+Well, play us a tune, if you can play a good one--play--let's see,
+what shall he play, Bob?" added he, turning to his companion. "Play
+'Bumper Squire Jones.'"
+
+The old man, though he did not seem quite pleased with the way in
+which he was asked, played "Bumper Squire Jones." Several tunes were
+afterwards named by the same rough voice.
+
+The little children shrunk back shyly, as they looked at the bold boy.
+He was the son of Attorney Case, and as his father had not cured his
+temper when he was a child, it became worse and worse as he grew up.
+All who were younger and weaker than himself were afraid of him and
+disliked him. When the old harper was so tired that he could play no
+more, a lad who usually carried his harp for him came up, and held his
+master's hat to those around, saying, "Will you please remember us?"
+The children readily gave their halfpence to this poor, good-natured
+man, who had taken so much pains to amuse them. It pleased them better
+even than to give them to the gingerbread-woman, whose stall they
+loved to visit. The hat was held to the Attorney's son before he chose
+to see it. At last he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a
+shilling. There was sixpenny-worth of halfpence in the hat. "I'll take
+these halfpence," said he, "and here's a shilling for you."
+
+"God bless you, sir," said the lad; but as he took the shilling which
+the young gentleman had slyly put into the blind man's hand, he saw
+that it was not worth one farthing. "I am afraid It is not good, sir,"
+said the lad, whose business it was to look at the money for his
+master.
+
+"I am afraid, then, you'll get no other," said young Case, with a rude
+laugh.
+
+"It never will do, sir, look at it yourself; the edges are all yellow.
+You can see the copper through it quite plain. Sir, nobody will take
+it from us."
+
+"I have nothing to do with that," said the rude boy, pushing away his
+hand. "You may pass it, you know, as well as I do, if you look sharp.
+You have taken it from me, and I shan't take it back again, I can tell
+you."
+
+A whisper of "that's very unjust," was heard.
+
+"Who says it's unjust?" cried the Attorney's son sternly, looking down
+upon his judges.
+
+"Is any one here among yourselves a judge of silver?" said the old
+man.
+
+"Yes, here's the butcher's boy," said the Attorney's son; "show it to
+him."
+
+He was a quiet, timid boy, and young Case fancied that he would be
+afraid to say what he thought. However, after turning the shilling
+round several times, the butcher's lad said that so far as he could
+tell, although he would not like to be quite sure of it, the coin was
+not a good one. Then, seeing the Attorney's son scowl angrily at him,
+he turned to Susan saying that she knew more than he did about money,
+as so much passed through her hands in payment of the bread she made.
+
+"I'll leave it to her," said the old harper. "If she says the shilling
+is good, we will keep it."
+
+The coin was then handed to Susan, who had not yet spoken, but now
+that she was called upon she did not shrink from telling the truth. In
+a gentle but firm tone she said, "I think the shilling is a bad one."
+
+"There's another then," cried the Attorney's son; "I have plenty of
+shillings and sixpences. They are nothing to me." And he walked away.
+
+The children now all started for their homes, and the old harper
+begged that Susan would show him the way to the village, if she were
+going there. The lad took up the harp and little William led the old
+man by the hand, while John ran on before to gather buttercups in the
+meadows. When they reached a little brook which they must cross by a
+narrow plank, Susan was afraid to leave the harper to the care of his
+little guide, so she herself took his hand and led him safely to the
+other side.
+
+Soon they reached the road, and Susan told the boy who carried his
+master's harp that he could not now lose his way. She then said
+good-by to the harper, adding that she and her brothers must take the
+short path across the fields, which would not be so pleasant for him
+because of the stiles.
+
+"I am afraid Miss Somers will be waiting," said Susan to to her
+brothers as they ran along together. "You know she said she would call
+at six o'clock, and I am sure by the length of our shadows that it is
+getting late."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+GOOD NEWS
+
+
+When they came to their own cottage-door, they heard voices, and they
+saw, when they entered, two ladies standing in the kitchen.
+
+"Come in, Susan," said Miss Somers, "I fancy you forgot that we
+promised to pay you a visit this evening; but you need not blush so
+much, there is no great harm done; we have only been here about five
+minutes and we have been admiring your neat garden and your tidy
+shelves. Is it you, Susan, who keeps these things in such nice order?"
+went on Miss Somers, looking round the kitchen.
+
+Before Susan could reply, little William pushed forward and answered,
+"Yes, ma'am, it is my sister Susan that keeps everything neat; and she
+always comes to school for us too, which was what caused her to be so
+late."
+
+"Because," went on John, "she would not refuse to let us hear a blind
+man play on the harp. It was we who kept her, and we hope, ma'am, as
+you seem so good, you won't take it amiss."
+
+Miss Somers and her sister smiled as they listened to Susan's little
+brothers, but what they heard made them feel sure that Susan was
+indeed as kind a sister as the housekeeper had said.
+
+When the ladies left the cottage, they took Susan with them through
+the village.
+
+"I fancy we shall find what we want here," said Miss Somers, stopping
+before a shop-window where ribbons of all colors were displayed, and
+where lace collars, glass buttons and sheets of pins were laid out in
+order. They went in, and on the shelves behind the counter saw gay,
+neat linens and calicoes.
+
+"Now, Susan, choose yourself a gown," said Miss Somers. "Because you
+are a busy girl and behave well, we wish others to see that such is
+the conduct we approve."
+
+The shopkeeper was the father of Susan's friend, Rose. He stretched
+his arm to the highest shelf, then dived into drawers beneath the
+counter, sparing no pains to show the best goods to his customers.
+
+Susan did not show the interest that might have been expected. She was
+thinking much of her lamb and more of her father. Miss Somers had put
+a bright guinea into her hand and told her to pay for her own gown.
+But Susan felt that this was a great deal of money to spend upon a
+frock for herself, and yet she did not know how to ask if she might
+keep it for a better purpose. Although Susan said nothing, Miss Somers
+read in her face that she was perplexed. "She does not like any of
+these things," whispered the lady to her sister.
+
+"She seems to be thinking of something else," was the low reply.
+
+"If you do not fancy any of these calicoes," said the shopkeeper to
+Susan, "we shall have a larger choice soon."
+
+"Oh," answered Susan, with a smile, and a blush, "these are all too
+good for me, but--"
+
+"But what, Susan?" asked Miss Somers. "Tell us what is passing in your
+little mind."
+
+Susan said nothing.
+
+"Well then, it does not matter. You do not know us very well yet. When
+you do, you will not, I am sure, be afraid to be frank. Put the guinea
+in your pocket and make what use of it you please. From what we know
+and from what we have heard of you, we are sure you will make a good
+use of it."
+
+"I think, madam," said the shopkeeper, "I have a pretty good guess
+what will become of that guinea, but I say nothing."
+
+"No, that is right," said Miss Somers; "we leave Susan to do just as
+she likes with it, and now we must not keep her any longer. Good
+night, Susan, we shall soon come again to your neat cottage."
+
+Susan courtesied and looked gratefully at the ladies, but did not
+speak. She wished to say, "I cannot explain to you here, with people
+around, what I want to do with my guinea, but when you come to our
+cottage you shall know all."
+
+After Susan had left, Miss Somers turned to the obliging shopkeeper
+who was folding up all the goods he had opened. "You have had a great
+deal of trouble," she said, "and as Susan will not choose a gown for
+herself, I must find one for her," and she chose the prettiest.
+
+While the man rolled up the parcel, Miss Somers asked him many
+questions about Susan, and he was only too glad to be able to tell
+what he knew about the good girl.
+
+"No later than last May morning," he said, "Susan acted as it will
+please you to hear. She was to have been Queen of the May, which among
+the children in our village is a thing a good deal thought of. But
+Susan's mother was ill, and Susan, after being up with her all night,
+would not go out in the morning, even when they brought the crown to
+her. She put it upon my daughter Rose's head with her own hands, and
+to be sure Rose loves her as well as if she were her own sister. If I
+praise Susan it is not that I am any relation of the Prices, but just
+that I wish her well, as does every one that knows her. I'll send the
+parcel up to the Abbey, shall I, ma'am?"
+
+"If you please," said Miss Somers, "and as soon as your new goods come
+in, let us know. You will, I hope, find us good customers and
+well-wishers," she added, with a smile, "for those who wish others
+well surely deserve to have well-wishers themselves."
+
+But to return to Susan. When she left the shop she carefully put the
+bright guinea into the purse with the twelve shillings her little
+friends had given her on Mayday. She next added, as far as she could
+remember them, the bills for bread that were owing to her, and found
+they came to about thirty-eight shillings. Then she hoped that by some
+means or other she might, during the week her father was to remain at
+home, make up the nine guineas that would enable him to stay with them
+altogether. "If that could but be," she said to herself, "how happy it
+would make my mother! She is already a great deal better since I told
+her my father would stay for a week longer. Ah! but she would not have
+blessed Attorney Case, if she had known about my poor Daisy." Susan
+had now reached the path that led to the meadow by the river-side. She
+wanted to go there alone and take leave of her lamb. But her little
+brothers, who were watching for her return, ran after her as soon as
+they saw her and overtook her as she reached the meadow.
+
+"What did that good lady want with you?" cried William; but looking up
+in his sister's face, he saw tears in her eyes, and he was silent and
+walked on quietly. Susan saw her lamb by the water-side.
+
+"Who are those two men?" said William. "What are they going to do with
+Daisy?"
+
+The two men were Attorney Case and the butcher. The butcher was
+feeling whether the lamb was fat.
+
+Susan sat down upon the bank in silent sorrow. Her little brothers ran
+up to the butcher and asked whether he was going to do any harm to the
+lamb. The butcher did not answer, but the Attorney replied, "It is not
+your sister's lamb any longer; it's mine."
+
+"Yours!" cried the children with terror; "and will you kill it?"
+
+"No, that is what the butcher will do."
+
+The little boys now burst into loud cries. They pushed away the
+butcher's hand; they threw their arms round the neck of the lamb; they
+kissed its forehead. It bleated. "It will not bleat to-morrow!" said
+William, and he wept bitterly.
+
+The butcher looked aside, and hastily rubbed his eyes with the corner
+of his blue apron. The Attorney stood unmoved; he pulled up the head
+of the lamb, which had just stooped to crop a mouthful of clover. "I
+have no time to waste," he said. "Butcher, I leave it to you. If it's
+fat--the sooner the better. I've nothing more to say." And he walked
+off, deaf to the prayers of the poor children. As soon as the Attorney
+was out of sight, Susan rose from the bank where she was seated, came
+up to her lamb, and stooped to gather some of the fresh dewy clover,
+that she might feed her pet for the last time. Poor Daisy licked the
+well-known hand.
+
+"Now, let us go," said Susan.
+
+"I'll wait as long as you please," said the butcher.
+
+Susan thanked him, but walked away quickly, without looking back. Her
+little brothers begged the man to stay a few minutes, for they had
+gathered a handful of blue speedwell and yellow crowsfoot, and they
+were decking the poor animal. As it followed the boys through the
+village, the children looked after them as they passed, and the
+butcher's own son was among the number. The boy remembered Susan's
+firmness about the shilling, for it had saved him a beating. He went
+at once to his father to beg him to spare the lamb.
+
+"I was thinking about it myself," said the butcher. "It's a sin to
+kill a pet lamb, I'm thinking. Anyway, it's what I'm not used to, and
+don't fancy doing. But I've a plan in my head and I'm going
+straightway to Attorney Case. But he's a hard man, so we'll say
+nothing to the boys, lest nothing comes of it. Come, lads," he went
+on, turning to the crowd of children, "it is time you were going your
+ways home. Turn the lamb in here, John, into the paddock for the
+night." The butcher then went to the Attorney.
+
+"If it's a good, fat, tender lamb you want for Sir Arthur," he said,
+"I could let you have one as good or better than Susan's and fit to
+eat to-morrow."
+
+As Mr. Case wished to give the present to Sir Arthur as soon as he
+could, he said he would not wait for Susan's lamb, but would take the
+one offered by the butcher. In the meantime Susan's brothers ran home
+to tell her that the lamb was put into the paddock for the night. This
+was all they knew, but even this was some comfort to the poor girl.
+Rose was at Farmer Price's cottage that evening, and was to have the
+pleasure of hearing Susan tell her father the good news that he might
+stay at home for one week longer. Mrs. Price was feeling better and
+said that she would sit up to supper in her wicker armchair. As Susan
+began to get ready the meal, little William, who was standing at the
+house-door watching for his father's return, called out suddenly,
+"Susan, why here is our old man!"
+
+"Yes," said the blind harper, "I have found my way to you. The
+neighbors were kind enough to show me where-abouts you lived; for,
+though I didn't know your name, they guessed who I meant by what I
+said of you all."
+
+Susan came to the door, and the old man was delighted to hear her
+speak again. "If it would not be too bold," said he, "I'm a stranger
+in this part of the country, and come from afar off. My boy has got a
+bed for himself here in the village; but I have no place. Could you be
+so kind as to give an old blind man a night's lodging?"
+
+Susan said she would step in and ask her mother, and she soon returned
+with an answer that he was heartily welcome, if he could sleep upon
+the children's bed, which was but small.
+
+The old man entered thankfully, and, as he did so, struck his head
+against the low roof. "Many roofs that are twice as high do not
+shelter folk so kind," he said. For he had just come from the house of
+Mr. Case, and Barbara, who had been standing at the hall-door, said he
+could have no help there. The old man's harp was set down in Farmer
+Price's kitchen, and he promised to play a tune for the boys before
+they went to bed, as their mother had given them leave to sit up to
+supper with their father.
+
+The farmer came home with a sad face, but how soon did it brighten,
+when Susan, with a smile, said to him, "Father, we've good news for
+you! good news for us all!--You have a whole week longer to stay with
+us; and perhaps," she went on, putting her little purse into his
+hands--"perhaps with what's here, and the bread-bills, and what may
+somehow be got together before a week's at an end, we may make up the
+nine guineas. Who knows, dearest mother, but we may keep him with us
+for ever!" As she spoke, she threw her arms round her father, who
+pressed her to him without speaking, for his heart was full. It was
+some little time before he could believe that what he heard was true;
+but the smiles of his wife, the noisy joy of his little boys, and the
+delight that shone in Susan's face at last convinced him that he was
+not in a dream.
+
+As they sat down to supper, the old harper was made welcome to his
+share of the simple meal.
+
+Susan's father, as soon as supper was finished, even before he would
+let the harper play a tune for his boys, opened the little purse which
+Susan had given him. He was surprised at the sight of the twelve
+shillings, and still more, when he came to the bottom of the purse to
+see the bright golden guinea.
+
+"How did you come by all this money, Susan?" said he.
+
+"How, I can't make out, except by the baking," said her proud mother.
+"Hey, Susan, is this your first baking?"
+
+"Oh, no, no," said her father, "I have the money for her first baking
+snug here, besides, in my pocket. I kept it for a surprise, to do your
+mother's heart good, Susan. Here's twenty-nine shillings, and the
+Abbey bill, which is not paid yet, comes to ten more. What think you
+of this, wife? Have we not a right to be proud of our Susan? Why," he
+went on, turning to the harper, "I ask your pardon for speaking before
+strangers in praise of my own child; but the truth is the fittest
+thing to be spoken, I think, at all times. Here's your good health,
+Susan. Why, by and by she'll be worth her weight in gold--in silver at
+least. But tell us, child, how came you by all this wealth, and how
+comes it that I don't go to-morrow? The happy news makes me so gay,
+I'm afraid I shall hardly understand it rightly. Speak on, child--but
+first bring us a bottle of the good mead you made last year from your
+own honey."
+
+Susan did not like to tell the story of her guinea-hen, of the gown,
+and of her poor lamb. Part of this would seem as if she were speaking
+of her own good deeds, and part of it she did not like to remember.
+But her mother begged to know the whole, and she told it as simply as
+she could. When she came to the story of her lamb, her voice faltered,
+and everybody present was touched. The old harper sighed once, and
+cleared his throat several times. He then asked for his harp, and
+after tuning it for long, he played the air he had promised to the
+boys.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+BARBARA VISITS THE ABBEY
+
+
+The old blind man had come from the mountains of Wales to try to gain
+a prize of ten guineas. This prize was to be awarded to the harper who
+should play the best at a large town about five miles from the village
+where Susan lived. In the evening, after the prize-giving was over,
+there was to be a ball in the town, so the events of the day were
+looked forward to by many around. Barbara was one of those who grew
+more and more excited as the time for the prize-giving and ball drew
+near. She longed to be asked to go there by some of the rich neighbors
+who could drive her in their carriage. So how pleased she was when,
+on the evening that her father and the butcher were talking about
+Susan's lamb, a servant in livery from the Abbey left a note for Mr.
+and Miss Barbara Case! It was to invite them to dinner and tea at the
+Abbey next day.
+
+"Now they will find out," cried Bab, "that I am indeed a genteel
+person, and they will wish to take me to the ball. At any rate, I
+shall do my best to be asked."
+
+"To be sure," said Betty, "a lady who would visit Susan Price might
+well be glad to take you in her carriage."
+
+"Then pray, Betty, do not forget to send to town first thing to-morrow
+for my new bonnet. Without that the ladies of the Abbey will think
+nothing of me. And I must coax Papa to buy me a new gown for the ball.
+I shall look well at all the ladies' dresses at the Abbey to-morrow
+and find out the fashion. And Betty, I have thought of a charming
+present to take Miss Somers. I shall give her Susan's guinea-hen. It's
+of no use to me, so carry it up early in the morning to the Abbey,
+with my compliments."
+
+Feeling quite sure that her bonnet and the guinea-fowl would make Miss
+Somers think well of her, Barbara paid her first visit to the Abbey.
+She expected to see wonders, but when she was shown into the room
+where Miss Somers and other ladies were sitting, simply dressed, and
+with work, books and drawings on the table before them, she was
+surprised and vexed. There was nothing grand to be seen anywhere.
+
+When Miss Somers tried to find out what would interest her, and talked
+of walks, and flowers and gardens, Miss Barbara was offended. "I will
+show them," she said to herself, "that I can talk of other things." So
+in a grand tone she spoke of what she did not understand, until her
+mistaken airs of gentility made the ladies of the Abbey feel first
+amused and then ashamed. One by one the ladies left the room, and when
+Miss Somers went to change her dress for dinner, Barbara was left
+alone with some pretty drawings to amuse her. But the silly girl paid
+no heed to these. She could think only of the ball. Suddenly she
+remembered that nothing had been said about the guinea-hen. The truth
+was that Betty, in the hurry of dressing Barbara for her visit to the
+Abbey, had forgotten the bird, but it arrived just as Miss Somers was
+dressing. The housekeeper went to her mistress's room to say it had
+come.
+
+"Ma'am," she said, "here's a beautiful guinea-hen just come with Miss
+Barbara Case's compliments."
+
+Miss Somers thought by the housekeeper's tone that she was not quite
+pleased, and she soon found she was right in thinking so. The woman
+came close up to the dressing-table, and said, "I never like to speak
+till I'm sure, ma'am, and I'm not quite sure in this case, ma'am, but
+still I think it right to tell you what crossed my mind about this
+same guinea-hen, ma'am, and you can ask about it or do as you feel
+best, ma'am. Some time ago we had guinea-fowls of our own, and not
+knowing they were going to die as they have done, ma'am, I made bold
+to give a couple last Christmas to Susan Price, and very proud of them
+she was, ma'am, and I'm sure would never have parted with the hen of
+her own will. But if my eyes don't deceive me, ma'am, this guinea-hen
+that Miss Barbara sends to you with her compliments is the same that I
+gave to Susan. How Miss Barbara came by it, I can't tell, ma'am, but
+if my boy Philip was at home, he might know, for he's often at Farmer
+Price's cottage. If you wish it, ma'am, I'll ask him when he comes
+home to-night."
+
+"I think the best way will be for me to ask Miss Case herself about it
+this evening," said Miss Somers.
+
+Dinner was now served. Attorney Case expected to smell mint sauce, and
+as the covers were taken off the dishes he looked around for lamb, but
+no lamb did he see.
+
+Among other things talked of at table was a carving-knife that Sir
+Arthur had made for his sister. From this the conversation passed to
+carving. "Now is my chance to find out about my present," thought the
+Attorney. "Pray, may I ask," he said to Sir Arthur, "how you carve a
+fore quarter of lamb?"
+
+Sir Arthur at once saw what the Attorney wanted to hear. Having
+answered his question, he went on to thank him for the present he had
+offered, but added, "I am sorry I cannot accept it, as it is my rule
+never to accept gifts from my neighbors. The reason is that our poor
+tenants cannot show their good will in this way, as they have little
+or nothing to offer."
+
+Attorney Case listened with surprise. He was annoyed and angry, for he
+did not understand Sir Arthur's just mind and kind heart. After the
+ladies left the dining-room and were walking up and down the large
+hall, one of them remarked that it would be a charming place for
+music. Barbara, who like her father always seized any chance of
+turning the conversation as best pleased herself, said what a fine
+instrument was the harp. Then she spoke of the prize-giving to the
+harpers and of the ball that was to follow. "I know a good deal about
+the ball," she said, "because a lady in the town where it is to be
+held offered to take me with her, but although she has a carriage,
+Papa did not like to let her send it so far." At this point Barbara
+fixed her eyes on Miss Somers, that she might, if possible, read her
+thoughts, but as the lady was at that moment letting down the veil of
+her hat, her face was not seen.
+
+"Shall we go for a little walk before tea?" said Miss Somers to the
+other ladies. "I have a pretty guinea-hen to show you." Barbara now
+felt hopeful, and when even among the pheasants and peacocks the
+guinea-hen was much admired, she was sure that Miss Somers must indeed
+be proud to accept her gift.
+
+At this moment Philip came running by on an errand for his mother. As
+his eye fell upon the guinea-hen, he exclaimed before he knew, "Why,
+that is Susan's guinea-hen!"
+
+"No, it is not Susan's guinea-hen," said Miss Barbara, coloring
+furiously, "it is mine, and I have made a present of it to Miss
+Somers."
+
+At the sound of Bab's voice, Philip turned round, his face ablaze with
+anger.
+
+"What is the matter, Philip?" asked Miss Somers in a soothing voice,
+but Philip was not in the mood to be soothed.
+
+"Why, ma'am, may I speak out?" he asked, and without waiting for leave
+he gave a full account of the loss of Susan's guinea-fowl, of Rose's
+visit to Barbara, and of Barbara's greedy and cruel conduct.
+
+Barbara denied all that Philip said, and told quite another tale. When
+she could find no more to say she blushed deeply, for she saw that her
+story was not believed. One might have thought she was covered with
+shame, had it not been that the moment Philip was out of sight, she
+exclaimed, "I am sure I wish I had never seen this wretched
+guinea-hen! It is all Susan's fault for letting it stray into our
+garden."
+
+Barbara was too angry to notice that she was admitting the truth of
+Philip's story.
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Somers, "Susan will be more careful now that she
+has had so hard a lesson. Shall we see? Philip will, I am sure, carry
+the guinea-hen back to her, if we wish it."
+
+"If you please, ma'am," said Barbara sulkily.
+
+So the guinea-hen was given to Philip, who set off with joy and was
+soon in sight of Farmer Price's cottage.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+A SURPRISE FOR SUSAN
+
+
+When Philip came to the door he stopped suddenly, for the idea struck
+him that it would give Rose great pleasure to carry the guinea-fowl to
+Susan. So he ran into the village.
+
+All the children who had given up their Mayday money to Susan were
+playing on the green. They were delighted to see the guinea-hen once
+more. Philip took his pipe and tabor and they all marched together
+towards the whitewashed cottage.
+
+As they passed the butcher's house, his boy came out. They told him
+where they were going.
+
+"Let me come with you, let me come with you," he said. "But wait one
+moment, for my father has something to say to you," and he darted into
+the house. The children waited. In a few moments they heard the
+bleating of a lamb, and soon they saw it being gently led by the
+butcher from the paddock.
+
+"It is Daisy!" exclaimed Rose.
+
+"It is Daisy!" they all shouted with joy, "Susan's lamb! Susan's
+lamb!"
+
+"Well, for my part," said the good butcher, as soon as he could be
+heard, "for my part I would not be so cruel as Attorney Case for the
+whole world. It's true the lamb did not know what was before it, but
+poor Susan did, and to wring her gentle heart was what I call cruel.
+But at any rate, here it is, safe and sound now. I'd have taken it to
+her sooner, but was off early this morning to the fair, and am but
+just come back. Daisy, though, was as well off in my paddock as in the
+field by the water-side."
+
+The troop of happy children went on their way with the guinea-fowl and
+the lamb. As they passed the shop where Susan had been shown the
+pretty calicoes, the shopkeeper, who, you remember, was Rose's father,
+came out. When he saw the lamb, and learned whose it was and heard its
+story, he gave the children some pieces of colored ribbon, with which
+Rose decorated Susan's favorite.
+
+The children now once more moved on, led by Philip, who played
+joyfully upon his pipe and tabor. Susan was working in her
+summer-house, with her little pine table before her. When she heard
+the sound of the music, she put down her work and listened. She saw
+the crowd of children coming nearer and nearer. They had closed round
+Daisy, so she did not see her pet, but as they came up to the
+garden-gate she saw that Rose beckoned to her. Philip played as loud
+as he could, that she might not hear, until the proper moment, the
+bleating of the lamb. As Susan opened the gate, the children divided,
+and first she saw, in the midst of her taller friends, little smiling
+Mary, with the guinea-hen in her arms.
+
+"Come on! come on!" cried Mary, as Susan started with joyful surprise;
+"you have more to see."
+
+At this instant the music paused. Susan heard the bleating of a lamb,
+and pressing eagerly forward, she beheld poor Daisy. She burst into
+tears. "I did not shed one tear when I parted with you, my dear little
+Daisy," she said, "it was for my father and mother. I would not have
+parted with you for any one else in the whole world. Thank you, thank
+you all," she added to her companions, who were even gladder for her
+in her joy than they had been sorry for her in her sorrow. "Now, if my
+father was not to go away from us next week, and if my mother were
+quite strong, I should be the happiest person in the world." As Susan
+finished speaking, a voice behind the listening crowd cried, in a
+rough tone, "Let us pass, if you please; you have no right to block
+the road." This was the voice of Attorney Case, who was returning
+with Barbara from his visit to the Abbey. He saw the lamb and tried to
+whistle as he went on. Barbara also saw the guinea-hen and turned her
+head another way. Even her new bonnet, in which she had expected to be
+so much admired, now only served to hide her blushing face.
+
+"I am glad she saw the guinea-hen," cried Rose, who now held it in her
+hands.
+
+"Yes," said Philip, "she'll not forget Mayday in a hurry."
+
+"Nor I either, I hope," said Susan, looking round upon her companions
+with a most loving smile: "I hope, while I live, I shall never forget
+your goodness to me last Mayday. Now that I've my pretty guinea-hen
+safe once more, I should think of returning your money."
+
+"No! no! no!" was the cry, "we don't want the money--keep it--keep
+it--you want it for your father."
+
+"Well," said Susan, "I am not too proud to accept it. I will keep your
+money for my father. Perhaps some time or other I may be able to
+earn----"
+
+"Oh," said Philip, "don't let us talk of earning; don't let her talk
+to us of money now; she hasn't had time hardly to look at poor Daisy
+and her guinea-hen. Come, we had better go and let her have them all
+to herself."
+
+The children moved away, but Philip himself was the very last to stir
+from the garden-gate. He stayed, first, to tell Susan that it was Rose
+who tied the ribbons on Daisy's head. Then he stayed a little longer
+to let her hear the story of the guinea-fowl, and to tell her who it
+was that brought the hen home from the Abbey.
+
+As Philip finished speaking, Susan was already feeding her long-lost
+favorite. "My pretty guinea-hen," said Susan, "my naughty guinea-hen
+that flew away from me, you shall never serve me so again. I must cut
+your nice wings, but I won't hurt you."
+
+"Take care!" cried Philip, "you'd better, indeed you'd better let me
+hold her, while you cut her wings."
+
+When this was done, which it certainly never could have been had
+Philip not held the hen for Susan, he remembered his mother had given
+him a message for Mrs. Price. This led to another quarter of an hour's
+delay, for Philip had the whole story of the guinea-hen to tell over
+again to Mrs. Price, and as the farmer came in while it was going on,
+it was only polite to begin at the beginning once more. Farmer Price
+was so pleased to see Susan happy again with her two favorites, that
+he said he must himself see Daisy fed, and Philip found that he was
+wanted to hold the jug of milk, from which Susan's father now filled
+the pan for Daisy. When Philip at last left the cottage, Bab and her
+maid Betty were staring out of the window as usual. Seeing them after
+he had left the garden, he at once turned back to see if he had shut
+the gate fast, lest the guinea-hen might stray out and again fall into
+Barbara's hands.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+BARBARA'S ACCIDENT
+
+
+As the day went on, Miss Barbara became more and more annoyed that her
+meanness had been found out, but she had no wish to cure herself of
+the fault. The ball was still her first thought.
+
+"Well," she said to Betty, "you have heard how things have turned out,
+but if Miss Somers does not ask me to go with, her, I think I know
+some one else who will."
+
+Now, some officers were quartered at the town where the ball was to be
+held. And because they had got into trouble with a tradesman there,
+out of which Mr. Case had undertaken to help them, they sometimes
+invited the Attorney to mess. The officers thought that if they showed
+some attention to Mr. Case, he would not charge them so much for his
+help. One of them even asked his wife to take, sometimes, a little
+notice of Miss Barbara. The name of this officer's wife was Mrs.
+Strathspey. It was of Mrs. Strathspey that Barbara was thinking when
+she said to Betty that if Miss Somers did not take her to the ball,
+she thought she knew of some one else who would.
+
+"Mrs. Strathspey and the officers are to breakfast here to-morrow,"
+said Bab. "One of them dined at the Abbey to-day and he said they
+would all come. They are going somewhere into the country and
+breakfast here on the way. Pray, Betty, don't forget that Mrs.
+Strathspey can't breakfast without honey. I heard her say so myself."
+
+"Then, indeed," said Betty, "I'm afraid Mrs. Strathspey will have to
+go without breakfast here, for not a spoonful of honey have we, let
+her long for it ever so much."
+
+"But, surely," said Bab, "we can contrive to get some honey in the
+neighborhood."
+
+"There's none to be bought, that I know of," said Betty.
+
+"But is there none to be begged or borrowed?" said Bab, laughing. "Do
+you forget Susan's beehive? Step over to her in the morning with my
+compliments, and see what you can do. Tell her it's for Mrs.
+Strathspey."
+
+In the morning Betty went with Miss Barbara's compliments to Susan, to
+beg some honey for Mrs. Strathspey, who could not breakfast without
+it. Susan did not like to part with her honey, because her mother
+loved it, and she therefore gave Betty only a little. When Barbara saw
+how little Susan sent, she called her a miser, and she said she must
+have some more for Mrs. Strathspey. "I'll go myself and speak to her.
+Come with me, Betty," said the young lady, who seemed to forget she
+had said, on the day that she was asked to "take a spoon," that she
+never would pay Susan another visit.
+
+"Susan," she said to the poor girl whom she had done everything in her
+power to hurt, "I must beg a little more honey from you for Mrs.
+Strathspey's breakfast. You know, at a great time such as this, we
+should help one another."
+
+"To be sure we should," added Betty.
+
+Susan, though she was generous, was not weak; she was willing to give
+to those she loved, but would not let anything be taken from her or
+coaxed out of her by those whom she could not respect. She answered
+that she was sorry she had no more honey to spare.
+
+Barbara grew angry. "I'll tell you what, Susan Price," she said, "the
+honey I will have, so you may as well give it to me by fair means. Yes
+or no? Speak! Will you give it to me or not? Will you give me that
+piece of the honeycomb that lies there?"
+
+"That bit of honeycomb is for my mother's breakfast," said Susan; "I
+cannot give it you."
+
+"Can't you?" said Bab, "then see if I don't take it."
+
+She stretched across Susan and grasped, but she did not reach far
+enough. She made a second dart at the honeycomb and, in her effort to
+get it, she overset the beehive. The bees swarmed about her. Her maid
+Betty screamed and ran away. Susan, who was sheltered by a
+laburnum-tree, called to Barbara, upon whom the black clusters of bees
+were now settling, and begged her to stand still and not to beat them
+away, "If you stand quietly you won't be stung, perhaps."
+
+But instead of standing quietly, Bab flung about her arms, and stamped
+and roared, and the bees stung her terribly. Her arms and her face
+swelled in a frightful manner. She was helped home by poor Susan and
+Betty. The maid, now that the mischief was done, thought only of how
+she could excuse herself to her master.
+
+"Indeed, Miss Barbara," said she, "it was quite wrong of you to go and
+get yourself into such a scrape. I shall be turned away for it, you'll
+see."
+
+"I don't care whether you are turned away or not," said Barbara; "I
+never felt such pain in my life. Can't you do something for me? I
+don't mind the pain either so much as being such a fright. Pray, how
+am I to be fit to appear at breakfast with Mrs. Strathspey; and I
+suppose I can't go to the ball either to-morrow, after all."
+
+"No, that you can't expect to do, indeed," said Betty. "You need not
+think of balls, for those lumps and swellings won't go off your face
+this week. That's not what I mind; I'm thinking of what your papa will
+say to me when he sees you, miss."
+
+Susan, seeing she could be of no further use, was about to leave the
+house, when at the door she met Mr. Case coming in. Now, since his
+second visit to the Abbey, the Attorney had been thinking things over.
+It was clear that both Sir Arthur and Miss Somers thought highly of
+the Price family, so perhaps it was a mistake on his part not to be on
+friendly terms with them too. He felt sure that if the story of
+Susan's lamb ever reached the Abbey, Sir Arthur would have no more to
+do with him. It would therefore be well to get into the good graces
+of the farmer and his family. So when Mr. Case met Susan at the door
+he smiled and said, "How is your mother? Have you called for something
+that may be of use to her? Barbara, Barbara--Bab, come downstairs,
+child, and see what you can do for Susan Price." But no Barbara
+answered, and her father stalked upstairs to her room. There he stood
+still, amazed at the sight of his daughter's swollen face.
+
+Before Mr. Case could speak, Betty began to tell the story of
+Barbara's mishap in her own way. Barbara spoke at the same time,
+giving quite another account of what had happened. The Attorney turned
+the maid away on the spot, and turning to Barbara asked how she dared
+to treat Susan Price so ill, "when," as he said, "she was kind enough
+to give you some of her honey. I will not let you treat her so."
+Susan, who could not but hear all that was said, now went to beg the
+angry father to forgive his daughter.
+
+"You are too good to her, as indeed you are to everybody," he said. "I
+forgive her for your sake."
+
+Susan courtesied in great surprise, but she could not forget the
+Attorney's treatment of Daisy, and she left his house as soon as she
+could to get ready her mother's breakfast. Mr. Case saw that Simple
+Susan was not to be taken in by a few simple words, and when he tried
+in the same way to approach her father, the blunt, honest farmer
+looked at him with disdain.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE PRIZE-GIVING
+
+
+So matters stood on the day of the long-expected prize-giving and
+ball. Miss Barbara Case, stung by Susan's bees, could not, after all
+her efforts, go with Mrs. Strathspey to the ball. The ballroom was
+filled early in the evening. There was a large gathering. The harpers
+who tried for the prize were placed under the music-gallery at the
+lower end of the room. Among them was our old blind friend, who, as he
+was not so well clad as the others, seemed to be looked down upon by
+many of the onlookers. Six ladies and six gentlemen were chosen to be
+judges of the performance. They were seated opposite to the harpers.
+The Misses Somers, who were fond of music, were among the ladies, and
+the prize was in the hands of Sir Arthur.
+
+There was now silence. The first harp sounded, and as each harper
+tried his skill, those who listened seemed to think that he deserved
+the prize. The old blind man was the last. He tuned his harp, and such
+a simple, sad strain was heard as touched every heart. All were
+delighted, and when the music ceased there was still silence for some
+moments.
+
+The silence was followed by loud cheers. The judges were all agreed
+that the old blind harper, who had played last, deserved the prize.
+The simple, sad air, which had moved all who listened, was composed by
+himself. He was asked to give the words belonging to the music, and at
+last he modestly said he would repeat them, as he could not see to
+write. Miss Somers took her pencil, and as the old harper repeated his
+ballad, she wrote the words. He called it "Susan's Lamentation for her
+Lamb." Miss Somers looked at her brother from time to time, as she
+wrote, and Sir Arthur, as soon as the old man had finished, took him
+aside and asked him some questions, which brought to light the whole
+story of Susan's lamb and of Attorney Case's cruelty.
+
+The Attorney himself was present when the harper began to repeat his
+ballad. His color, as Sir Arthur steadily looked at him, changed from
+red to white, and from white to red, until at length he suddenly
+shrunk back through the crowd and left the room. We shall not follow
+him. We had rather follow our old friend the harper. No sooner had he
+received the prize of ten guineas, than he went to a small room
+belonging to the people of the house, asked for pen, ink, and paper,
+and dictated, in a low voice to his boy, a letter, which he ordered
+him to put at once into the post-office. The boy ran off with the
+letter and was but just in time, for the postman's horn was sounding.
+The next morning Farmer Price was sitting beside his wife and Susan
+sorrowing that his week's leave was nearly at an end, and that they
+had not enough money to give to the man who was willing to go in his
+place, when a knock was heard at the door. Then the person who
+delivered the letters in the village put one into Susan's hand,
+saying, "A penny, if you please--here's a letter for your father."
+
+"For me!" said Farmer Price; "here's the penny then; but who can it be
+from, I wonder? Who can think of writing to me, in this world?" He
+tore open the letter, but the hard name at the bottom of the page
+puzzled him--"your obliged friend, Llewellyn."
+
+"And what's this?" he said, opening a paper that was enclosed in the
+letter. "It's a song, seemingly; it must be somebody that has a mind
+to make an April fool of me."
+
+"But it is not April, it is May, father," said Susan.
+
+"Well, let us read the letter, and we shall come to the truth all in
+good time."
+
+Farmer Price then sat down in his own chair, and read as follows:
+
+     "MY WORTHY FRIEND--I am sure you will be glad to hear that I
+     have had success this night. I have won the ten-guinea prize,
+     and for that I am much indebted to your sweet daughter Susan;
+     as you will see by a little ballad I enclose for her. Your
+     kindness to me has let me learn something of your family
+     history. You do not, I hope, forget that I was present when
+     you were counting the treasure in Susan's little purse, and
+     that I heard for what purpose it was all saved. You have not,
+     I know, yet made up the full sum you need; therefore, I will
+     be glad if you will use the five-guinea bank-note which you
+     will find within the ballad. Pay me the money again when it
+     suits you, and if it never suits you to pay it, I shall never
+     ask for it. I shall go my rounds again through this country,
+     I believe, about the same time next year, and will call to
+     see how you are, and to play the new tune for Susan and the
+     dear little boys.
+
+     "I should just add, to set your heart at rest about the
+     money, that it does not distress me at all to lend it to you.
+     I am not quite so poor as I appear to be. But it is my wish
+     to go about as I do. I see more of the world under my
+     tattered clothes than, perhaps, I should ever see in a
+     better dress. There are many of us like this, and we are
+     glad, when we can, to do any kindness to such a worthy family
+     as yours.--So fare ye well.
+
+                  "Your obliged Friend,
+                                      LLEWELLYN."
+
+Susan now, at her father's bidding, opened the ballad. He took the
+five-guinea bank-note, while she read, with surprise, "Susan's
+Lamentation for her Lamb." Her mother leaned over her shoulder to read
+the words, but they were stopped before they had finished the first
+verse by another knock at the door.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+ATTORNEY CASE IN TROUBLE
+
+
+It was not the postman with another letter. It was Sir Arthur and his
+sisters.
+
+They came meaning to lend the farmer and his good family the money to
+pay the man who was willing to go away in the farmer's place. But they
+found their help was not needed.
+
+"Still, since we are here," said Sir Arthur, "there is something I
+should like to speak about. Mr. Price, will you come out with me, and
+let me show you a piece of your land through which I want to make a
+road. Look there," said Sir Arthur, pointing to the spot, "I am laying
+out a drive round my estate, and that bit of land of yours stops me."
+
+"Why, sir, true enough it's mine, but you are welcome to it. I can
+trust you to find me another bit worth the same, or to make up the
+value of it in some other way. I need say no more."
+
+Sir Arthur was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "What is this I
+hear about some mistake in your lease?"
+
+"Well, sir," replied the farmer, "the truth is the fit thing to be
+spoken at all times. I can show you a letter from your brother who had
+the estate before you, and who let the farm to me. That letter shows
+what he meant, Sir Arthur, and if in the writing of the lease it was
+otherwise said, it is, as you say, a mistake, sir. Now a mistake is a
+mistake all the world over, and should be treated as such, but
+Attorney Case says in the matter of a lease you must abide by the
+mistake as though it were the truth."
+
+"You seem," said Sir Arthur, "to have some quarrel with this Attorney
+of whom you talk so often. Now would you mind telling me frankly what
+is the matter between you?"
+
+"The matter between us, sir, is this," said Price. "You know the
+corner of the field with the pink hawthorn near Mr. Case's house? The
+lane runs past one side of it and a sweetbrier hedge separates it on
+the other from his garden. Well, sir, the Attorney wishes to enclose
+that bit of ground with his own, and as it belongs to the village, and
+moreover is a play-green for the children, and it has been their
+custom to meet by the hawthorn every Mayday for as many years as I can
+remember, I was loth to see them turned out of it."
+
+"Let us go together and look at this piece of ground," said Sir
+Arthur. "It is not far off, is it?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir, close by."
+
+When they reached the ground, Mr. Case saw them from his garden and
+hurried to the spot. He was afraid of what the farmer might tell Sir
+Arthur. But this time the Attorney was too late, for the truth had
+already been told.
+
+"Is this the place you speak of?" asked Sir Arthur.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Price.
+
+"Why, Sir Arthur," said Attorney Case, seeing that he was too late,
+"let there be no dispute about the ground. Let it belong to the
+village if you will. I give up all claim to it."
+
+"But you know well, Mr. Case, that a man cannot give up claim to a
+place which is not his. You cannot give up this piece of land, for you
+have no claim to it, as I can prove to you by a look at my maps. This
+field used to belong to the farm on the other side of the road, but
+was cut off from it when the lane was made."
+
+"Indeed you must know best," said the trembling Attorney, who was
+afraid of Sir Arthur and enraged to be shown in the wrong before
+Farmer Price.
+
+"Then," said Sir Arthur to the farmer, "you understand that this
+little green is to be a playground for the village children, and I
+hope they may gather hawthorn from their favorite bush for many a
+Mayday to come."
+
+Farmer Price bowed low, which he seldom did, even when he received a
+kindness for himself, but he was now overjoyed to think of the
+children's delight when he should tell them the good news.
+
+"And now, Mr. Case," said Sir Arthur, turning to the Attorney, "you
+sent me a lease to look over."
+
+"Yes, I thought it my duty to do so. I hope it will not hurt the good
+farmer."
+
+"No, it will not hurt him," said Sir Arthur. "I am willing to write a
+new one for him when he pleases. He has a letter from my brother who
+let the farm to him, which shows exactly what was meant, even if there
+was a mistake made in making out the lease. I hope I shall never treat
+any one unfairly."
+
+"No, indeed," said the Attorney, "but I always thought if there was a
+mistake in a lease it was fair to take advantage of it."
+
+"Then you shall be judged by your own words," answered Sir Arthur.
+"You meant to send me Farmer Price's lease, but your son has somehow
+brought me yours instead. I have found a bad mistake in it."
+
+"A bad mistake in my lease!" gasped the alarmed Attorney.
+
+"Yes," replied Sir Arthur, pulling the lease out of his pocket. "Here
+it is. You will see it has not been signed."
+
+"But you won't take advantage of a mistake, surely!" said the
+Attorney, who seemed to forget that he had shortly before said that it
+was fair to do so.
+
+"I shall not take advantage of you as you would have done of this
+honest man," replied Sir Arthur. "You shall be paid the value of your
+house and land upon condition that you leave the parish within one
+month."
+
+The Attorney knew it was useless to reply. He therefore turned and
+sneaked away.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+SUSAN'S BIRTHDAY
+
+
+"You write a good hand, you can keep accounts, cannot you?" said Sir
+Arthur to Mr. Price, as they walked towards the cottage. "I think I
+saw a bill of your little daughter's drawing out the other day, which
+was very neatly written. Did you teach her to write?"
+
+"No, sir," said Price, "I can't say I did that, for she mostly taught
+it to herself; but I taught her a few sums, as far as I knew, on
+winter nights when I had nothing else to do."
+
+"Your daughter shows that she has been well taught," said Sir Arthur;
+"and her good conduct is a credit to you and her mother."
+
+"You are very good, very good indeed, sir, to speak in this way," said
+the delighted father.
+
+"But I mean to do more than pay you with words," said Sir Arthur. "You
+are attached to your own family, perhaps you may become attached to
+me, when you know me, and we shall have many chances of judging one
+another. I want no one to do my hard work. I only want a steady,
+honest man, like you, to collect my rents, and I hope, Mr. Price, you
+will do that for me."
+
+"I hope, sir," said Price, with joy and gratitude glowing in his
+honest face, "that I'll never give you cause to regret your goodness
+to me."
+
+"And what are my sisters about here?" said Sir Arthur, entering the
+cottage and going behind the two ladies, who were busy measuring a
+pretty colored calico.
+
+"It is for Susan, my dear brother. I knew she did not keep that guinea
+for herself," said Miss Somers. "I have just asked her mother to tell
+me what became of it. Susan gave it to her father; but she must not
+refuse a gown of our choosing this time; and I am sure she will not,
+because her mother, I see, likes it. And, Susan, I hear that instead
+of becoming Queen of the May this year, you were sitting in your
+mother's room as she was ill. Your mother has a little color in her
+cheeks now."
+
+"Oh, ma'am," said Mrs. Price, "I'm a different being. Joy, I think,
+has done it."
+
+"Then," said Miss Somers, "I hope you will be able to come out on your
+daughter's birthday, which, I hear, is on the twenty-fifth of this
+month. Make haste and get quite well before that day, for my brother
+means that all the boys and girls of the village shall have a dance on
+Susan's birthday."
+
+"Yes," said Sir Arthur, "and I hope on that day, Susan, you will be
+very happy with your little friends upon their play-green. I shall
+tell them that it is your good conduct which has won it for them; and
+if you have anything to ask, any little favor for any of your friends,
+which we can grant, ask now, Susan."
+
+"Sir," said Susan, after glancing at her mother, "there is, to be
+sure, a favor I should like to ask; it is for Rose."
+
+"Well, I don't know who Rose is," said Sir Arthur, smiling; "but go
+on."
+
+"Ma'am, you have seen her, I believe; she is a very good girl indeed,"
+said Mrs. Price to Miss Somers.
+
+"And works very neatly, ma'am," continued Susan eagerly, "and she and
+her mother heard you were looking out for some one to wait upon you."
+
+"Say no more," said Miss Somers; "your wish is granted. Tell Rose to
+come to the Abbey to-morrow morning, or rather come with her yourself,
+for our housekeeper, I know, wants to talk to you about a certain
+cake. She wishes, Susan, that you should be the maker of the cake for
+the dance, and she has good things looked out for it already, I know.
+It must be large enough for everybody to have a slice, and the
+housekeeper will ice it for you. I only hope your cake will be as good
+as your bread. Good-by."
+
+"How I do wish, now," said Farmer Price, "how I do wish, wife, that
+our good friend the harper was only here at this time. It would do his
+warm old heart good. Well, the best of it is, we shall be able next
+year, when he comes his rounds, to pay him his money with thanks,
+being all the time and for ever as much obliged to him as if we kept
+it. I long to see him in this house again, drinking, as he did, a
+glass of Susan's mead, just on this spot."
+
+"Yes," said Susan, "and the next time he comes, I can give him one of
+my guinea-hen's eggs, and I shall show him Daisy."
+
+"True, love," said her mother, "and he will play that tune and sing
+that pretty ballad. Where is it? I have not finished it."
+
+"Rose ran away with it, mother, but I'll run after her, and bring it
+back to you this minute," said Susan.
+
+Susan found her friend Rose at the hawthorn, in the midst of a crowd
+of children, to whom she was reading "Susan's Lamentation for her
+Lamb."
+
+"The words are something, but the tune--the tune--I must have the
+tune," cried Philip. "I'll ask my mother to ask Sir Arthur to try and
+find out which way that good old man went after the ball; and if he's
+to be found, we'll have him back by Susan's birthday, and he shall sit
+here--just exactly here--by our bush, and he shall play--I mean, if he
+will--that same tune for us, and I shall learn it--I mean, if I
+can--in a minute."
+
+The good news that Farmer Price was to collect the rents and that
+Attorney Case was to leave the parish in a month soon spread over the
+village. Many came out of their houses to have the pleasure of hearing
+the joyful tidings from Susan herself. The crowd on the play-green
+grew bigger every minute.
+
+"Yes," cried Philip, "I tell you it's quite true, every word of it.
+Susan's too modest to say it herself, but I tell you all, that Sir
+Arthur has given us this play-green just because she is so good."
+
+
+
+
+LIMBY LUMPY
+
+I
+
+
+LIMBY LUMPY was the only son of his mother. His father was called the
+"Pavior's Assistant," for he was so large and heavy that, when he used
+to walk through the streets, the men who were ramming the stones down
+with a large wooden rammer would say, "Please to walk over these
+stones, sir," and then the men would get a rest.
+
+Limby was born on April 1--I do not know how long ago; but before he
+came into the world such preparations were made! There was a beautiful
+cradle, and a bunch of coral with bells on it, and lots of little
+caps, and a fine satin hat, and tops and bottoms for pap, and two
+nurses to take care of him. He was, too, to have a little chaise, when
+he grew big enough; after that, he was to have a donkey, and then a
+pony. In short, he was to have the moon for a plaything, if it could
+be got; and, as to the stars, he would have had them, if they had not
+been too high to reach.
+
+Limby made a rare to-do when he was a little baby. But he never was a
+_little_ baby--he was always a big baby; nay, he was a big baby till
+the day of his death.
+
+"Baby Big," his mother used to call him; he was "a noble baby," said
+his aunt; he was "a sweet baby," said old Mrs. Tomkins, the nurse; he
+was "a dear baby," said his papa--and so he was, for he _cost_ a good
+deal. He was "a darling baby," said his aunt, by the mother's side;
+"there never was such a fine child," said everybody, before the
+parents; when they were at another place they called him, "a great,
+ugly fat child."
+
+Limby was almost as broad as he was long. He had what some people
+called an open countenance--that is, one as broad as a full moon. He
+had what his mother called beautiful auburn locks, but what other
+people said were carroty--not before the mother, of course.
+
+Limby had a flattish nose and a widish mouth, and his eyes were a
+little out of the right line. Poor little dear, he could not help that
+and therefore it was not right to laugh at him.
+
+Everybody, however, laughed to see him eat his pap, for he would not
+be fed with the patent silver pap-spoon which his father bought him,
+but used to lay himself flat on his back, and seize the pap-boat with
+both hands, and never let go of it till its contents were fairly in
+his dear little stomach.
+
+So Limby grew bigger and bigger every day, till at last he could
+scarcely draw his breath, and was very ill; so his mother sent for
+three apothecaries and two physicians, who looked at him, and told his
+mother there were no hopes: the poor child was dying of overfeeding.
+The physicians, however, prescribed for him--a dose of castor-oil.
+
+His mother attempted to give him the castor-oil, but Limby, although
+he liked tops and bottoms, and cordial, and pap, and sweetbread, and
+oysters, and other things nicely dished up, had no fancy for
+castor-oil, and struggled and kicked and fought every time his nurse
+or mother attempted to give it him.
+
+"Limby, my darling boy," said his mother, "my sweet cherub, my only
+dearest, do take its oily-poily, there's a ducky-deary, and it shall
+ride in a coachy-poachy."
+
+"Oh, the dear baby!" said the nurse; "take it for nursey. It will take
+it for nursey, that it will."
+
+The nurse had got the oil in a silver medicine-spoon, so contrived
+that, if you could get it into the child's mouth, the medicine must go
+down. Limby, however, took care that no spoon should go into his
+mouth, and when the nurse tried the experiment for the nineteenth
+time, gave a plunge and a kick, and sent the spoon up to the ceiling,
+knocked off the nurse's spectacles, upset the table on which all the
+bottles and glasses were, and came down whack on the floor.
+
+His mother picked him up, clasped him to her breast, and almost
+smothered him with kisses.
+
+"Oh, my dear boy!" said she; "it shan't take the nasty oil! it won't
+take it, the darling! Naughty nurse to hurt baby! It shall not take
+nasty physic!"
+
+And then she kissed him again.
+
+Poor Limby, although only two years old, knew what he was at--he was
+trying to be the master of his mother. He felt he had gained his
+point, and gave another kick and a squall, at the same time planting a
+blow on his mother's eye.
+
+"Dear little creature!" said she; "he is in a state of high
+convulsions and fever. He will never recover!"
+
+But Limby did recover, and in a few days was running about the house,
+and the master of it. There was nobody to be considered, nobody to be
+consulted, nobody to be attended to, but Limby Lumpy.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Limby grew up big and strong; he had everything his own way. One day,
+when he was at dinner with his father and mother, perched upon a
+double chair, with his silver knife and fork, and silver mug to drink
+from, he amused himself by playing drums on his plate with the mug.
+
+"Don't make that noise, Limby, my dear," said his father.
+
+"Dear little lamb!" said his mother; "let him amuse himself. Limby,
+have some pudding?"
+
+"No, Limby no pudding!"
+
+_Drum! drum! drum!_
+
+A piece of pudding was, however, put on Limby's plate, but he kept on
+drumming as before. At last he drummed the bottom of the mug into the
+soft pudding, to which it stuck, and by which means it was scattered
+all over the carpet.
+
+"Limby, my darling!" said his mother; and the servant was called to
+wipe Limby's mug and pick the pudding up from the floor.
+
+Limby would not have his mug wiped, and floundered about, and upset
+the cruet-stand and the mustard on the table-cloth.
+
+"Oh, Limby Lumpy--naughty boy!" said his father.
+
+"Don't speak so cross to the child: he is but a child," said his
+mother. "I don't like to hear you speak so cross to the child."
+
+"I tell you what it is," said his father, "I think the boy does as he
+likes. But I don't want to interfere."
+
+Limby now sat still, resolving what to do next. He was not hungry,
+having been stuffed with a large piece of pound-cake about an hour
+before dinner; but he wanted something to do, and could not sit still.
+
+Presently a saddle of mutton was brought on the table. When Limby saw
+this he set up a crow of delight.
+
+"Limby ride," said he--"Limby ride!" and rose up in his chair, as if
+to reach the dish.
+
+"Yes, my ducky, it shall have some mutton," said his mother, and
+immediately gave him a slice, cut up into small morsels.
+
+That was not it. Limby pushed that on the floor, and cried out: "Limby
+on meat! Limby on meat!"
+
+His mother could not think what he meant. At last, however, his father
+recollected that he had been in the habit of giving him a ride
+occasionally, first on his foot, sometimes on the scroll end of the
+sofa, at other times on the top of the easy chair. Once he put him on
+a dog, and more than once on the saddle; in short, he had been in the
+habit of perching him on various things, and now Limby, hearing this
+was a _saddle_ of mutton, wanted to take a ride on it.
+
+"Limby on! Limby ride on bone!" said the child in a whimper.
+
+"Did you _ever hear_?" said the father.
+
+"What an extraordinary child!" said the mother. "How clever to know it
+was like a saddle, the little dear! No, no, Limby; grease frock,
+Limby."
+
+But Limby cared nothing about a greasy frock, not he--he was used
+enough to that--and therefore roared out more lustily for a ride on
+the mutton.
+
+"Did you ever know such a child? What a dear, determined spirit!"
+
+"He is a child of an uncommon mind," said his mother. "Limby,
+dear--Limby, dear, silence! silence!"
+
+The truth was, Limby made such a roaring that neither father nor
+mother could get their dinners, and scarcely knew whether they were
+eating beef or mutton.
+
+"It is impossible to let him ride on the mutton," said his
+father--"quite impossible!"
+
+"Well, but you might just put him astride the dish, just to satisfy
+him. You can take care his legs or clothes do not go into the gravy."
+
+"Anything for a quiet life," said the father. "What does Limby want?
+Limby ride?"
+
+"Limby on bone! Limby on meat!"
+
+"Shall I put him across?" said Mr. Lumpy.
+
+"Just for one moment," said his mother; "it won't hurt the mutton."
+
+The father rose, and took Limby from his chair, and, with the greatest
+caution, held his son's legs astride, so that they might hang on each
+side of the dish without touching it--"just to satisfy him," as he
+said, "that they might dine in quiet--" and was about to withdraw him
+from it immediately.
+
+But Limby was not to be cheated in that way. He wished to feel the
+saddle _under_ him, and accordingly forced himself down upon it; but
+feeling it rather warmer than was agreeable, started, and lost his
+balance, and fell down among the dishes, soused in melted butter,
+cauliflower, and gravy, floundering, and kicking, and screaming, to
+the detriment of glasses, jugs, dishes, and everything else on the
+table.
+
+"My child! my child!" said his mother. "Oh, save my child!"
+
+She snatched him up, and pressed his begreased garments close to the
+bosom of her best silk gown.
+
+Neither father nor mother wanted any more dinner after this. As to
+Limby, he was as frisky afterwards as if nothing had happened, and
+about half an hour from the time of this disaster _cried for his
+dinner._
+
+
+
+
+THE SORE TONGUE
+
+By JANE TAYLOR
+
+
+There was a little girl called Fanny, who had the misfortune one day
+to bite her tongue as she was eating her breakfast. It hurt her so
+much that she could scarcely help crying; and even when the first
+smart was over, it continued so sore that whenever she spoke it pained
+her considerably. Finding this to be the case, she said very pitifully
+to her mother, "Mamma, you can't think how it hurts me when I speak!"
+"Does it?" replied her mother; "then I'll tell you what I would advise
+you to do. Resolve all this day to say nothing but what is either
+necessary or useful; this will give your tongue a fine holiday, and
+may answer more purposes than one."
+
+Fanny, knowing that she had the character of being somewhat
+loquacious, could not help laughing at this, and said, "Well, I will
+try for once; so, mum! I am going to begin now, mamma."
+
+_Mother_. Do so; and whenever you are beginning to speak, be sure you
+ask yourself whether what you were going to say was likely to be of
+any use, or whether it was necessary.
+
+_Fanny_. Yes, yes, I will! but don't talk to me, mamma, for fear. So
+saying, she screwed up her lips, and taking her work, sat for about
+five minutes as still as a mouse. She then looked up, smiled and
+nodded at her mother, as much as to say, "See how well I can hold my
+tongue," still screwing her lips very tight for fear she should speak.
+Soon, however, she began to feel a great inclination to say something;
+and was glad to recollect that if she could but think of anything
+either useful or necessary, she might speak. Whereupon she endeavored
+to find something to say that would come "within the act." To aid her
+invention, she looked all round the room.
+
+_Fanny_. Mamma, don't you think the fire wants stirring? (This
+question, she thought, savored of both qualifications.)
+
+_Mother_. Not at present, my dear.
+
+Then followed another long silence; for Fanny found it vastly more
+difficult than she had any previous idea of, to think of anything
+useful to talk about; and she knew her mamma would laugh at her if she
+said what was obviously idle or silly, just now. She was beginning to
+repent having made such an agreement, when her three elder sisters
+entered the room. She now thought it quite reasonable, if not
+absolutely necessary, to tell them of her misfortune; which she did at
+considerable length, and with many needless digressions (the usual
+custom with great talkers); upon which they all laughed, prophesying
+that her resolution would not last half an hour, and rallying her for
+telling such a long story with a sore tongue.
+
+Soon after, some ladies called to pay their mother a morning visit.
+This gave Fanny's tongue such a long rest that the moment they were
+gone it seemed irresistibly to resume its wonted functions.
+
+_Fanny_. What a while old Mrs. W. has had that brown satin pelisse!
+Really, poor old lady, I am quite tired of seeing her in it!
+
+_Mother_. How is your tongue, Fanny?
+
+_Fanny_. Oh, better, mamma, thank you--almost well.
+
+_Mother_. I am sorry for it: I was in hopes it would have been sore
+enough at least to prevent your making impertinent remarks upon
+anybody all this day.
+
+_Fanny_. No, but really, mamma, is it not an old rubbishing thing?
+
+_Mother_. I don't know, indeed. It is no business of mine; therefore I
+took no notice of it.
+
+A silence ensued after this; but conversation revived when Caroline,
+who had stood for some time with her eyes fixed on their opposite
+neighbor's window, suddenly exclaimed, "I do believe the Joneses are
+going to have company again to-day! The servant has just been lighting
+the fire in the drawing-room; and there is Miss Jones now gone up to
+dress. I saw her draw down the blinds in her room this instant." "So
+she is," said Lucy, looking up: "I never knew such people in my life!
+they are always having company."
+
+"I wonder whom they are expecting to-day," said Eliza;
+"dinner-company, I suppose."
+
+The proceedings of their neighbors, the Joneses, continued to furnish
+matter for various sagacious conjectures and remarks for a
+considerable time. At length Caroline exclaimed with the eagerness of
+discovery, "Look! look! there's the baker now at the door, with a
+whole tray full of tarts and things. Make haste, or he'll be gone in."
+
+_Lucy_. So he is, I declare; it is a dinner-party then. Well, we shall
+see presently, I hope, who are coming.
+
+_Caroline_. Oh, no, they never dine till five when they have company.
+
+_Eliza_. And it will be dark then; how tiresome!
+
+_Lucy_. If Miss Jones is not dressed already! She is this instant come
+into the drawing-room.
+
+_Caroline_. Stand back, stand back! Don't let her see us all staring.
+Ah, there she is,--got on her pink sarcenet body and sleeves to-day.
+How pretty that dress is, to be sure!
+
+_Eliza_. And how nicely she has done her hair! Look, Caroline--braided
+behind.
+
+_Lucy_. There, she is putting down the sash. That chimney smokes, I
+know, with this wind.
+
+_Fanny_. And there is that little figure, Martha Jones, come down now.
+Do look--as broad as she is long! What a little fright that child is,
+to be sure!
+
+_Mother_. Pray, Fanny, was that remark useful or necessary?
+
+_Fanny_. Oh, but mamma, I assure you, my tongue is quite well now.
+
+_Mother_. I am sorry for it, my dear. Do you know, I should think it
+well worth while to bite my tongue every day if there were no other
+means of keeping it in order.
+
+At this the girls laughed; but their mother, resuming her gravity,
+thus continued:
+
+"My dear girls, I should before now have put a stop to this idle
+gossiping, if I had not hoped to convince you of the folly of it. It
+is no wonder, I confess, that at your age you should learn to imitate
+a style of remark which is but too prevalent in society. Nothing,
+indeed, is more contagious. But let me also tell you, that girls of
+your age, and of your advantages, are capable of seeing the meanness
+of it, and ought to despise it. It is the chief end of education to
+raise the minds of women above such trifling as this. But if a young
+person who has been taught to think, whose taste has been cultivated,
+and who might therefore possess internal resources, has as much idle
+curiosity about the affairs of her neighbors, and is as fond of
+retailing petty scandal concerning them, as an uneducated woman, it
+proves that her mind is incurably mean and vulgar, and that
+cultivation is lost upon her.
+
+"This sort of gossiping, my dear girls, is the disgrace of our sex.
+The pursuits of women lie necessarily within a narrow sphere, and they
+naturally sink, unless raised by refinement, or by strong principle,
+into that littleness of character, for which even their own husbands
+and fathers (if they are men of sense) are tempted to despise them.
+The minds of men, from their engagements in business, necessarily take
+a larger range; and they are, in general, too much occupied with
+concerns comparatively important to enter into the minute details
+which amuse women. But women of education have no such plea to urge.
+When your father and I direct you to this or that pursuit, it is not
+so much for the sake of your possessing that particular branch of
+knowledge, but that by knowledge in general you may become intelligent
+and superior, and that you may be furnished with resources which will
+save you from the miserable necessity of seeking amusement from
+intercourse with your neighbors, and an acquaintance with their
+affairs.
+
+"Let us suppose, now, that this morning you had been all more
+industriously inclined; and had been engaged in any of your
+employments with that ardor which some happy young people manifest in
+the acquisition of knowledge; would you, in that case, have felt any
+desire to know the date of Mrs. W.'s pelisse, or any curiosity in the
+proceedings of our neighbors the Joneses? No, you would then have
+thought it a most impertinent interruption, if any one had attempted
+to entertain you with such particulars. But when the mind is indolent
+and empty, then it can receive amusement from the most contemptible
+sources. Learn, then, to check this mean propensity. Despise such
+thoughts whenever you are tempted to indulge them. Recollect that this
+low curiosity is the combined result of idleness, ignorance,
+emptiness, and ill-nature; and fly to useful occupation, as the most
+successful antidote against the evil. Nor let it be forgotten that
+such impertinent remarks as these come directly under the description
+of those 'idle words,' of which an account must be given in the day of
+judgment. Yes, this vulgar trifling is as inconsistent with the spirit
+of Christian benevolence, and with the grand rule of 'doing to others
+as we would that they should do to us,' as it is with refinement of
+taste and dignity of character."
+
+"Who would have thought," said little Fanny, "that my happening to
+bite my tongue this morning would have led to all this?"
+
+"It would be a fortunate bite for you, Fanny," said her mother, "and
+for your neighbors, if it should make you more careful in the use of
+it. If we were liable to such a misfortune whenever we use our tongues
+improperly, some persons would be in a constant agony. Now, if our
+consciences were but half as sensitive as our nerves, they would
+answer the purpose much better. Foolish talking pains a good
+conscience, just as continual speaking hurts a sore tongue; and if we
+did but regard one smart as much as the other, it would act as a
+constant check upon the unruly member."
+
+
+
+
+EYES AND NO EYES, OR THE ART OF SEEING
+
+By JOHN AIKIN and MRS. BARBAULD
+
+
+"Well, Robert, where have you been walking this after noon?" said Mr.
+Andrews, to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday.
+
+_R._ I have been, sir, to Broom heath, and so round by the windmill
+upon Camp-mount, and home through the meadows by the river-side.
+
+_Mr. A._ Well, that's a pleasant round.
+
+_R._ I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with a single person.
+I had rather by half have gone along the turnpike road.
+
+_Mr. A._ Why, if seeing men and horses is your object, you would,
+indeed, be better entertained on the highroad. But did you see
+William?
+
+_R._ We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I
+walked on and left him.
+
+_Mr. A._ That was a pity. He would have been company for you.
+
+_R._ Oh, he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this thing and
+that! I had rather walk alone. I dare say he is not got home yet.
+
+_Mr. A._ Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been?
+
+_W._ Oh, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broom-heath, and
+so up to the mill at the top of the hill, and then down among the
+green meadows by the side of the river.
+
+_Mr. A._ Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking, and he
+complains of its dullness, and prefers the highroad.
+
+_W._ I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step that did not
+delight me, and I have brought home my handkerchief full of
+curiosities.
+
+_Mr. A._ Suppose, then, you give us some account of what amused you so
+much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as to me.
+
+_W._ I will, sir. The lane leading to the heath, you know, is close
+and sandy, so I did not mind it much, but made the best of my way.
+However, I spied a curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old
+crab-tree, out of which grew a great bunch of something green, quite
+different from the tree itself. Here is a branch of it.
+
+_Mr. A._ Ah! this is mistletoe, a plant of great fame for the use made
+of it by the Druids of old in their religious rites and incantations.
+It bears a very slimy white berry, of which birdlime may be made,
+whence its Latin name of _Viscus_. It is one of those plants which do
+not grow In the ground by a root of their own, but fix themselves upon
+other plants; whence they have been humorously styled _parasitical_,
+as being hangers-on, or dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak
+that the Druids particularly honored.
+
+_W._ A little farther on I saw a green woodpecker fly to a tree, and
+run up the trunk like a cat.
+
+_Mr. A._ That was to seek for insects in the bark, on which they live.
+They bore holes with their strong bills for that purpose, and do much
+damage to the trees by it.
+
+_W._ What beautiful birds they are!
+
+_Mr. A._ Yes; they have been called, from their color and size, the
+English parrot.
+
+_W._ When I got upon the open heath, how charming it was! The air
+seemed so fresh, and the prospect on every side so free and unbounded!
+Then it was all covered with gay flowers, many of which I had never
+observed before. There were at least three kinds of heath (I have got
+them In my handkerchief here), and gorse, and broom, and bellflower,
+and many others of all colors, that I will beg you presently to tell
+me the names of.
+
+_Mr. A._ That I will readily.
+
+_W._ I saw, too, several birds that were new to me. There was a pretty
+grayish one, of the size of a lark, that was hopping about some great
+stones; and when he flew he showed a great deal of white above his
+tail.
+
+_Mr. A._ That was a wheatear. They are reckoned very delicious birds
+to eat, and frequent the open downs in Sussex, and some other
+countries, in great numbers.
+
+_W_. There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy part of the heath,
+that amused me much. As I came near them, some of them kept flying
+round and round just over my head, and crying _pewet_ so distinctly
+one might fancy they almost spoke, I thought I should have caught one
+of them, for he flew as if one of his wings was broken, and often
+tumbled close to the ground: but as I came near, he always made a
+shift to get away.
+
+_Mr. A._ Ha, ha! you were finely taken in then! This was all an
+artifice of the bird's to entice you away from its nest; for they
+build upon the bare ground, and their nests would easily be observed,
+did they not draw off the attention of intruders by their loud cries
+and counterfeit lameness.
+
+_W._ I wish I had known that, for he led me a long chase, often over
+shoes in water. However, it was the cause of my falling in with an old
+man and a boy who were cutting and piling up turf for fuel, and I had
+a good deal of talk with them about the manner of preparing the turf,
+and the price it sells at. They gave me, too, a creature I never saw
+before--a young viper, which they had just killed, together with its
+dam. I have seen several common snakes, but this is thicker in
+proportion, and of a darker color than they are.
+
+_Mr. A._ True. Vipers frequent those turfy, boggy grounds pretty much,
+and I have known several turf-cutters bitten by them.
+
+_W._ They are very venomous, are they not?
+
+_Mr. A._ Enough so to make their wounds painful and dangerous, though
+they seldom prove fatal.
+
+_W._ Well--I then took my course up to the windmill on the mount. I
+climbed up the steps of the mill in order to get a better view of the
+country round. What an extensive prospect! I counted fifteen church
+steeples; and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out from the
+midst of green woods and plantations; and I could trace the windings
+of the river all along the low grounds, till it was lost behind a
+ridge of hills. But I'll tell you what I mean to do, sir, if you will
+give me leave.
+
+_Mr. A._ What is that?
+
+_W._ I will go again, and take with me Carey's county map, by which I
+shall probably be able to make out most of the places.
+
+_Mr. A._ You shall have it, and I will go with you, and take my pocket
+spying-glass.
+
+_W._ I shall be very glad of that. Well--a thought struck me, that as
+the hill is called _Camp-mount,_ there might probably be some remains
+of ditches and mounds with which I have read that camps were
+surrounded. And I really believe I discovered something of that sort
+running round one side of the mount.
+
+_Mr, A._ Very likely you might. I know antiquaries have described such
+remains as existing there, which some suppose to be Roman, others
+Danish. We will examine them further, when we go.
+
+_W._ From the hill I went straight down to the meadows below, and
+walked on the side of a brook that runs into the river. It was all
+bordered with reeds and flags and tall flowering plants, quite
+different from those I had seen on the heath. As I was getting down
+the bank to reach one of them, I heard something plunge into the water
+near me. It was a large water-rat, and I saw it swim over to the other
+side, and go into its hole. There were a great many large dragon-flies
+all about the stream. I caught one of the finest, and have got him
+here in a leaf. But how I longed to catch a bird that I saw hovering
+over the water, and every now and then darting down into it! It was
+all over a mixture of the most beautiful green and blue, with some
+orange color. It was somewhat less than a thrush, and had a large head
+and bill, and a short tail.
+
+_Mr. A._ I can tell you what that bird was--a kingfisher, the
+celebrated halcyon of the ancients, about which so many tales are
+told. It lives on fish, which it catches in the manner you saw. It
+builds in holes in the banks, and is a shy, retired bird, never to be
+seen far from the stream where it inhabits.
+
+_W_. I must try to get another sight at him, for I never saw a bird
+that pleased me so much. Well--I followed this little brook till it
+entered the river, and then took the path that runs along the bank.
+On the opposite side I observed several little birds running along the
+shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and white, and about
+as big as a snipe.
+
+_Mr. A_. I suppose they were sandpipers, one of the numerous family of
+birds that get their living by wading among the shallows, and picking
+up worms and insects.
+
+_W_. There were a great many swallows, too, sporting upon the surface
+of the water, that entertained me with their motions. Sometimes they
+dashed into the stream; sometimes they pursued one another so quick,
+that the eye could scarcely follow them. In one place where a high
+steep sand-bank rose directly above the river, I observed many of them
+go in and out of holes with which the bank was bored full.
+
+_Mr. A_. Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our species of
+swallows. They are of a mouse color above, and white beneath. They
+make their nests and bring up their young in these holes, which run a
+great depth, and by their situation are secure from all plunderers.
+
+_W_. A little farther I saw a man in a boat, who was catching eels in
+an odd way. He had a long pole with broad iron prongs at the end, just
+like Neptune's trident, only there were five instead of three. This he
+pulled straight down among the mud in the deepest parts of the river,
+and fetched up the eels sticking between the prongs.
+
+_Mr. A_. I have seen this method. It is called spearing of eels.
+
+_W_. While I was looking at him, a heron came flying over my head,
+with his large flagging wings. He lit at the next turn of the river,
+and I crept softly behind the bank to watch his motions. He had waded
+into the water as far as his long legs would carry him, and was
+standing with his neck drawn in, looking intently on the stream.
+Presently he darted his long bill as quick as lightning into the
+water, and drew out a fish, which he swallowed. I saw him catch
+another in the same manner. He then took alarm at some noise I made,
+and flew away slowly to a wood at some distance, where he settled.
+
+_Mr. A_. Probably his nest was there, for herons build upon the
+loftiest trees they can find, and sometimes in society together like
+rooks. Formerly, when these birds were valued for the amusement of
+hawking, many gentlemen had their _heronries_, and a few are still
+remaining.
+
+_W_. I think they are the largest wild birds we have.
+
+_Mr. A_. They are of a great length and spread of wing, but their
+bodies are comparatively small.
+
+_W_. I then turned homeward across the meadows, where I stopped awhile
+to look at a large flock of starlings which kept flying about at no
+great distance. I could not tell at first what to make of them; for
+they rose all together from the ground as thick as a swarm of bees,
+and formed themselves into a kind of black cloud, hovering over the
+field. After taking a short round, they settled again, and presently
+rose again in the same manner, I dare say there were hundreds of them.
+
+_Mr. A_. Perhaps so; for in the fenny countries their flocks are so
+numerous as to break down whole acres of reeds by settling on them.
+This disposition of starlings to fly in close swarms was remarked even
+by Homer, who compares the foe flying from one of his heroes to a
+_cloud_ of starlings retiring dismayed at the approach of the hawk.
+
+_W_. After I had left the meadows, I crossed the cornfields and got to
+the high field next our house just as the sun was setting, and I stood
+looking at it till it was quite lost. What a glorious sight! The
+clouds were tinged with purple and crimson and yellow of all shades
+and hues, and the clear sky varied from blue to a fine green at the
+horizon. But how large the sun appears just as it sets! I think it
+seems twice as big as when it is overhead.
+
+_Mr. A_. It does so; and you may probably have observed the same
+apparent enlargement of the moon at its rising.
+
+_W_. I have; but pray what is the reason of this?
+
+_Mr. A_. It is an optical deception, depending upon principles which I
+cannot well explain to you till you know more of that branch of
+science. But what a number of new ideas this afternoon's walk has
+afforded you! I do not wonder that you found it amusing; It has been
+very instructive, too. Did _you_ see nothing of all these sights,
+Robert?
+
+_R_. I saw some of them, but I did not take particular notice of them.
+
+_Mr. A_. Why not?
+
+_R_. I don't know. I did not care about them, and I made the best of
+my way home.
+
+_Mr. A_. That would have been right if you had been sent of a message;
+but as you only walked for amusement it would have been wiser to have
+sought out as many sources of it as possible. But so it is--one man
+walks through the world with his eyes open, and another with them
+shut; and upon this difference depends all the superiority of
+knowledge the one acquires above the other. I have known sailors, who
+had been in all quarters of the world, and could tell you nothing but
+the signs of the tippling-houses they frequented in different ports,
+and the price and quality of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin
+could not cross the channel without making some observations useful to
+mankind. While many a vacant, thoughtless youth is whirled throughout
+Europe without gaining a single idea worth crossing a street for, the
+observing eye and inquiring mind find matter of improvement and
+delight in every ramble in town or country. Do _you_ then, William,
+continue to make use of your eyes; and _you_, Robert, learn that eyes
+were given you to use.
+
+
+
+
+PRINCE LIFE
+
+By G.P.R. JAMES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+Once upon a time there was a young Prince who met with a very curious
+kind of misfortune. Most people want something which they cannot get;
+and because they cannot get it, they generally desire it more than
+anything else, which is very foolish, for it would be much better to
+be contented with what they have.
+
+He was a wise fox, my dear Charlie, who thought the grapes were sour
+when he could not reach them. Now the Prince's misfortune consisted in
+this, that he had everything on earth he could want or desire, and a
+little more. He had a fine palace and a fine country, obedient
+subjects and servants, and true friends. When he got up in the
+morning, there was some one ready to put on his clothes for him; when
+he went to bed at night, some one to take them off again. A fairy
+called Prosperity gave him everything he desired as soon as he desired
+it. If he wanted peaches at Christmas, or cool air at mid-summer, the
+first came instantly from his hothouses, and the second was produced
+by an enormous fan, which hung from the top of the room, and was moved
+by two servants.
+
+But strange to say, the Prince got weary of all this; he was tired of
+wanting nothing. When he sat down to dinner he had but little
+appetite, because he had had such a good breakfast; he hardly knew
+which coat to put on, they were all so beautiful; and when he went to
+bed at night, though the bed was as soft as a white cloud, he could
+not sleep, for he was not tired.
+
+There was only one ugly thing in the whole palace, which was a little,
+drowsy, gray dwarf, left there by the fairy Prosperity. He kept
+yawning all day, and very often set the Prince yawning, too, only to
+look at him. This dwarf they called Satiety, and he followed the
+Prince about wherever he went.
+
+One day the Prince asked him what he was yawning for, and Satiety
+answered:
+
+"Because I have nothing to do, and nothing to wish for, my Prince."
+
+"I suppose that is the reason why I yawn too," replied the Prince.
+
+"Rather is it having me always with you,".answered Satiety.
+
+"Then get away and leave me," said the Prince.
+
+"I cannot do that," answered Satiety. "You can go from me, but I
+cannot go from you; I can never leave you as long as you remain in the
+palace of Prosperity."
+
+"Then I will have you turned out," said the Prince.
+
+"No one can do that," said Satiety, "but Misfortune, and he is a very
+capricious person. Though he is a very disagreeable monster, some
+people seem to court him, but cannot get him to come near them; while
+to a great many he comes unawares, and catches them, though they fly
+from him eagerly. I tell you, Prince, you can go from me, but I cannot
+go from you as long as you remain in the palace of Prosperity."
+
+That night, when he went to his soft bed, the Prince thought very much
+as to the conversation he had held with Satiety, and he resolved to go
+out of the palace for a time, just to get rid of the ugly little gray,
+yawning dwarf.
+
+The very resolution seemed to do him good, and he slept better that
+night after he had made it than he had done for many a night before.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The next morning when he rose he felt quite refreshed, and he said to
+a groom: "Bring me my stout horse, Expedition; I am going out to take
+a ride all alone."
+
+The groom answered not a word, for in that palace every one obeyed the
+Prince at once, and nobody troubled him but the ugly little dwarf,
+Satiety. As he went away, however, the groom said to himself with a
+sigh: "It is a sad thing to be in the wide world all alone. My Prince
+does not know what it is. But let him try; it may be better for him."
+
+He accordingly brought the horse to the palace-door. But when the
+Prince came down he felt quite well, and, looking about among all his
+attendants, he could only catch a distant glimpse of Satiety standing
+yawning behind. For a minute he was half inclined not to go, for he
+did not mind seeing Satiety at a distance if he did not come near. But
+the groom, whose name was Resolution, seeing him hesitate, said: "You
+had better go, my Prince, as you determined; it may do you good." And
+a chamberlain called Effort helped him on his horse.
+
+At first, as the Prince rode along, everything was quite delightful to
+him. He seemed to breathe more freely now that he was no more troubled
+with Satiety. The flowers looked bright, and the sky beautiful, for a
+cloud or two here and there only gave variety. The very air seemed
+fresher than it had been in the sheltered gardens of the palace, and
+the Prince said to himself: "What a delightful country this is, just
+on the verge of the land of Prosperity."
+
+Just then he saw a countryman gathering grapes in a vineyard, and
+every now and then putting some into his mouth, and the Prince asked
+him whose fine estate it was that he was passing through.
+
+"It belongs to a gentleman and lady equally, sir," replied the good
+man; "they are called Activity and Ease. They are the happiest couple
+ever seen. When Activity is tired, Ease takes his head upon her lap;
+and soon as she is weary of her burden, Activity jumps up and relieves
+her from it."
+
+"But to whom does that more barren country just beyond belong?" asked
+the Prince. "And what is that great thick wood I see farther on
+still?"
+
+"That is the land of Labor and the Forest of Adversity," said the man.
+"I would advise you to get through them as soon as possible, for the
+first you will find very wearisome, and the second exceedingly
+unpleasant, although people do say that there is a great deal of very
+good fruit in the forest; only one gets well-nigh torn to pieces with
+the thorns before one can reach it."
+
+The Prince determined to follow his advice, and rode on. There was not
+anything very tempting to him as he passed through the land of Labor,
+and it seemed a long and weary way from the beginning to the end of
+it. But the forest, even at its entrance, was very dark and gloomy
+indeed. Thick trees crossed each other overhead, and shut out the
+bright, cheerful daylight. He could hardly see his way along the
+narrow, tortuous paths, and the thorns which the peasant had spoken of
+ran into him continually, for they grew high as well as thick, and
+crossed the path in every direction. He began heartily to repent that
+he had quitted the palace of Prosperity, and wished himself back again
+with all his heart, thinking that he should care little about yawning
+Satiety if he could but get out of the thorns of Adversity. Indeed, he
+tried to turn his horse back; but he found it more difficult than he
+imagined, for, as I have told you, the road was very narrow and those
+thorns hedged it on every side. There was nothing for it, in short,
+but to try and force his way on through the wood, in the hope of
+finding something better beyond.
+
+The Prince did not know which way to take, indeed, and he tried a
+great number of paths, but in vain. Still there were the same thorns
+and the same gloomy darkness. He was hungry and thirsty, and he looked
+round for those fruits he had heard of; but he could see none of them
+at the time, and the more he sought his way out, the deeper he seemed
+to get into the forest. The air was very sultry and oppressive, too;
+he grew weary and faint, quite sick at heart, and even the limbs of
+his good horse seemed to be failing him, and hardly able to carry him
+on.
+
+Dark as it all was, it at length began to grow darker, and he
+perceived that night was coming, so that the poor Prince began to give
+up all hope, and to think that there would be nothing for him but to
+lie down and die in despair, when suddenly he caught a sort of
+twinkling light through the thick bushes, which seemed to lie in the
+way he was going, and on he went, slowly enough, poor man! But still
+the light was before him, till suddenly he came to a great rock,
+overgrown in many places with briers and brambles. In the midst of
+it, however, was the mouth of a large cave, with great masses of
+stone hanging over, as if ready to fall on a traveler's head. It was a
+very stern and gloomy looking place indeed, with clefts and crevices
+and ragged crags all around. But a few steps in the cave some one
+seemed to have built himself a house; for it was blocked up with
+large, unhewn boards of wood, and in this partition there was a door
+and a window, through which came the light he had seen. The Prince
+dismounted from his horse, and though he did not know who might be
+within, he thought it best to knock at the door, and ask for food and
+shelter.
+
+The moment he knocked a loud, hoarse voice cried: "Come in!" and tying
+his horse to a tree, he opened the door.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Now, whatever the poor Prince had expected to find, he was certainly
+disappointed; for that thicket of Adversity is full of disappointments,
+as every one knows who has traveled through it. He had thought he
+should see some poor woodman or honest peasant, who would welcome him
+to his homely hut in the rock with kindness and benevolence; but
+instead of that he beheld, seated at the table, carving away at a
+piece of stick by the light of a very small twinkling candle, one of
+the most tremendous monsters ever man's eyes lighted upon. In shape he
+was like a man, but he was a great deal stronger than any man. His
+face looked as if it were cast in iron, so hard and rigid were all the
+features; and there was an ever-lasting frown planted on his brow. His
+hands were long and sinewy, with terrible sharp claws upon them; and
+his feet were so large and heavy that they seemed as if they would
+crush anything they would set upon to pieces.
+
+The poor Prince, though he was a very brave young man, stopped and
+hesitated at the sight of this giant; but the monster, without ever
+turning his head, cried out again: "Come in! Why do you pause? All men
+must obey me, and I am the only one that all men do obey."
+
+"You must be a mighty monarch, then," said the young Prince, taking
+courage, "Pray, what is your name?"
+
+"My name is Necessity," answered the other in his thundering voice;
+"and some people give me bad names, and call me 'Hard Necessity' and
+'Dire Necessity;' but, nevertheless, I often lead men to great things
+and teach them useful arts if they do but struggle with me valiantly."
+
+"Then I wish you would lead me to where I can get some rest," said the
+Prince, "and teach me how I can procure food for myself and my poor
+famishing horse."
+
+The monster rose up almost as tall as a steeple and suddenly laid his
+great clutches upon the Prince's shoulders, saying: "I will do both,
+if you do but wrestle with me courageously. You must do it, for there
+is no other way of escaping from my hands."
+
+The Prince had never been handled so roughly before, and as he was
+brave, strong, and active, he made a great effort to free himself, and
+tried a thousand ways, but to no purpose. The giant did not hurt him,
+however, though he pressed him very hard, and at length he cried out:
+"Ho, ho! you are a brave young man! Leave off struggling, and you
+shall have some food and drink, such as you would never have tasted
+had you not come to me."
+
+Thereupon he led him to his own coarse wooden table, and set before
+him half of a hard brown loaf and a pitcher of water; but so hungry
+and thirsty was the Prince that the bread seemed to him the best he
+had ever eaten, and the water sweeter than any in the world.
+
+"Unfasten your horse's bridle," said Necessity, when the Prince had
+done, "and I will soon teach him where to find something to feed
+upon."
+
+The Prince did as the giant told him at once, and then his
+stern-looking companion pointed to a wooden bedstead in a dark corner
+of the cave, which looked as hard as his own face, saying: "There, lie
+down and sleep."
+
+"I can never sleep on that thing," said the Prince.
+
+"Ho, ho!" cried the other; "Necessity can make any bed soft," and
+taking a bundle of straw, he threw it down on the bedstead.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Sleep was sweeter to the Prince that night than it had ever been upon
+a bed of down, and when he rose the next morning the monster's
+features did not seem half so stern and forbidding as they had done at
+first. The inside of the cave, too, looked much more light and
+blithesome, though it was a dark and frowning place enough still, with
+hard rock all round, and nothing but one window to let in a little
+sunshine.
+
+Necessity, however, did not intend to keep the Prince there, and as
+soon as he was up the giant said to him: "Come, trudge; you must quit
+my cave, and go on."
+
+"You must open the door for me, then," said the Prince; "for the bolt
+is so high up I cannot reach it."
+
+"You cannot get out by the door through which you came in," said the
+giant, "for it is the door of Idleness. There is but one way for you
+to get out, and that I will show you."
+
+So, taking him by the hand, he led him on into a very dark part of the
+cave, which went a long way under ground, and then said to him: "You
+must now go on until you come to a great house, where you will find an
+old woman, who will give you your meals at least."
+
+"But I want to return to my own palace of Prosperity," replied the
+Prince.
+
+"She will show you the way," replied the monster, "and without her you
+will never find it. Go on at once, and don't stand talking."
+
+"But I cannot see the path," said the Prince.
+
+"You must find it," said Necessity, and gave him a great push, which
+sent him on at a very rapid rate.
+
+For some time he continued to grope his way almost in darkness, but
+soon a light began to shine before him, which grew bigger and bigger
+as he advanced, and he perceived that he was coming to another mouth
+of the cave, leading to an open but very rough country. The Prince was
+very glad indeed to issue forth and breathe the fresh air, and he
+looked at the clear sky with great satisfaction. Just before him,
+however, there was a large house, with a great number of doors and
+windows; and as he felt very hungry, he determined to knock, and see
+if he could get any breakfast.
+
+Almost as soon as he had touched the knocker the door was opened by a
+little old woman, plainly dressed, but neat and tidy: and when the
+Prince told her who he was, and what he wanted, she answered him with
+a good-humored smile, very different from the frown of stern
+Necessity: "Every one can have food in my house who chooses to work
+for it; nobody without. I can help you on your way, too; and as for
+your poor horse you talk about, he shall be provided for. My name is
+Industry, and Industry always takes care of her beasts. Come in, young
+man; come in."
+
+The Prince went in with a glad step, and found the house quite full of
+people, all as busy as bees in a field of clover, and all looking as
+bright and cheerful as if they had washed their faces in sunshine.
+
+It would take me an hour to tell you all the different things they
+were employed in, every one working by himself on his separate task,
+although two or three were often seen doing different pieces of the
+same work. But there were two very nice, pretty girls there whom I
+must speak of, who seemed to be handmaidens to the mistress of the
+house. One was a thoughtful-looking, careful girl, who was busy in
+every part of the room alternately, picking up all the little odds and
+ends which were left after any piece of work was completed--little
+bits of string, ends of tape or thread, stray nails, chips of wood, or
+pieces of paper. These, as soon as she had gathered them up, she put
+safely by, where she could find them again; and it is wonderful how
+often she was called upon by the workmen for some little scrap or
+another, just sufficient to complete what they were about. Her name
+was Economy.
+
+The other was a brighter, quicker-looking person, with very clear
+eyes, like two stars, who went continually through the room, putting
+everything to rights. If a chair was out of its place, or a table
+turned awry, or a tool put down where it should not be, she could not
+bear to see it for a minute, but put all things straight again, so
+that nobody was at a loss where to find anything, She was called
+Order.
+
+The hungry Prince was somewhat mortified to find a good, large piece
+of work assigned him to do before he could get his breakfast, and at
+first he was exceedingly awkward, and did not know how to set about
+it; but Industry showed him the way, Order helped him a good deal, and
+Economy supplied him with the materials.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+At the end of an hour he had completed his task, and the old lady
+patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Well done; you are a very good
+young man. Now Industry will give you your breakfast, and help you on
+the way to a very nice place, where you will get all you desire."
+
+Thus saying, she led him into a great hall, where there was a vast
+number of people, all eating rich fruits, with a somewhat hard-favored
+dame, whom they called Labor, scattering sugar on the different
+dishes.
+
+When the Prince heard her name, he asked one of the people near if
+that was really Labor, saying, "I passed through her land not long
+ago, and it seemed so poor and hard a country that I should have
+thought it produced nothing good."
+
+"That is a mistake," said the other. "That is the land where grows the
+sugar-cane, and Labor always sweetens the food of Industry."
+
+As soon as his breakfast was over, the Prince was taken to another
+door, and shown a road which was very narrow at first, but seemed to
+grow wider and wider as it went on.
+
+"You have nothing to do but to walk straight forward," said Industry,
+"neither to turn to the right nor to the left. Keep yourself upright,
+so that you may have that distant mountain peak before your eyes, and
+don't suffer yourself to grow faint or get tired. If you should have
+any doubt or difficulty, you will find some one on the road who will
+show you the way. But only remember always to keep straight forward,
+and don't be tempted to turn aside."
+
+"What is the name of this road?" asked the Prince.
+
+"It is called the 'Right Path'" was the reply; and on he set upon his
+way with a stout heart. Nevertheless, he began to get somewhat tired
+before an hour was over, although the road was pleasant enough to walk
+in. There were beautiful green meadows on every side, and richly
+colored flowers, and what seemed very delicious fruit; and here and
+there, at a little distance, were pleasant groves, with a number of
+gay birds, singing very sweetly.
+
+At the end of an hour and a half the Prince became hungry and thirsty
+again, as well as tired, and he said to himself, "There could be no
+great harm surely in going across that meadow and gathering some of
+that fruit, to eat under the shade of the trees, while the birds sing
+over my head. I do not know how far I have to go. I see no end to this
+long, straight road. I think I will try and rest for a little under
+those trees. I can easily find my way back again."
+
+But just at that moment, luckily for himself, the Prince spied a man
+trudging on before him, and he hurried after, saying to himself, "I
+will ask him how far I have to go, and whether I have time to stop."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The man did not walk very fast, but he kept steadily on, with a great
+pikestaff in his hand; and though the Prince called after him as soon
+as he was within hearing, he did not halt for a moment, or even turn
+his head, but trudged onward, saying, "Come along, come along; one
+never gets to the end of one's journey if one stops to chatter by the
+way."
+
+At length the Prince came up with him, and said in a civil tone, "Pray
+can you tell me whither this road leads, and if it will be very long
+before I get to some house where I can find rest and food?"
+
+"It leads to a very fine and beautiful castle," replied the other
+somewhat doggedly, and still walking on. "I think, if you come along
+with me, you will get there in time. I am generally well received
+there, and in some sort may call myself the master of the house, so
+that those who go with me are generally made welcome by my lady, who,
+though she is sometimes a little whimsical, is the most charming
+person in the world when she smiles upon me. But you must keep on
+steadily with me; for if you stop or turn aside, a thousand to one you
+will be lost."
+
+When the Prince found him so communicative, he asked him if they could
+not cross one of the meadows to refresh themselves a little, and told
+him how he had been tempted to do so just before he saw him.
+
+"Lucky you did not," answered the other; "for those meadows are full
+of swamps and quagmires, the groves filled with snakes, and many of
+the fruits poisonous. You might have got yourself into such troubles
+that not even I could have helped you out of them."
+
+"If it is not improper, may I ask your name?" said the Prince.
+
+"Come along," answered the other, "Names matter little; but if you
+want to know mine, it is Perseverance."
+
+Not long after the Prince began to think he saw several tall towers
+glittering before him in the distance, with some misty clouds round
+about them, which only seemed to make them look the more beautiful.
+
+"What a fine castle!" he exclaimed.
+
+"That is where I am leading you," answered the other; "and the first
+prospect is always very charming. But we have some way to go yet, I
+can tell you, and not a little to overcome. You would never get there
+without me; so come on, and do not be daunted at anything you see."
+
+The Prince soon found that his companion's warning was just. The way
+did seem very long; and sometimes, as they went over hill and dale,
+the sight of the beautiful castle, which cheered him so much, was
+quite shut out from his eyes, and at length, when they were coming
+very near it, with nothing but one valley between them and the
+building, he perceived that the road went over a narrow drawbridge,
+and saw two terrible monsters lying close beside the way. Their bodies
+were like those of lions, very large and very strong, but they had
+necks like that of a snake, and from each neck issued a hundred
+horrible heads, all differing in kind from one another.
+
+The poor Prince was alarmed, and said to his companion: "Do you see
+those horrible brutes? Is there no other way into the castle but
+between them?"
+
+"There are a thousand ways into the castle," replied his companion,
+"but every way is guarded by monsters just like those. But do not be
+alarmed. Go on with me, and I will help you. Besides, some one will
+come out of the castle, most likely, to give us assistance."
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Upon these words, the Prince went on more cheerfully, especially when
+he saw a man come running down from the gate of the castle as they
+approached the drawbridge.
+
+"Ay," said his companion, stepping on without stopping a moment,
+"there comes my friend Courage to help us. He is a good, serviceable
+fellow."
+
+Just as he spoke, the two monsters sprang forward, and the one which
+was nearest to Perseverance growled terribly at him; but he struck him
+a blow with his pikestaff, which knocked him down and cowed him
+entirely; and there he lay, with all his hundred heads prostrated in a
+manner which the Prince could hardly have thought possible. The other
+brute sprang right at the Prince himself, as if to destroy him, so
+that he was inclined to draw back; but the man Courage, who had run
+down from the castle, put his foot upon the creature's snaky neck, and
+crushed it into the earth.
+
+"Go on, go on, young man!" he cried. "These are terrible monsters
+truly, but you see our friend Perseverance has vanquished Difficulty,
+and I have trampled upon Danger."
+
+As he spoke, the Prince passed on rapidly over the drawbridge; and
+when he stood under the gate of the castle, Perseverance took him by
+the hand with a smiling air, and led him in, saying: "Now I will
+conduct you to my lady, Success."
+
+At the very sound the poor Prince seemed quite refreshed, forgot all
+the weary way he had traveled, the dark forest of Adversity, the grim
+frown of Necessity, the faintness and the weariness, and
+hundred-headed Difficulty and Danger. But he was more rejoiced still
+when, on entering the building, he found himself suddenly, all at
+once, in the great hall of his own palace of Prosperity, with a
+beautiful lady, all smiles, standing ready to receive him with a crown
+in her hand.
+
+"Come hither, Prince," she said, "and receive this crown, which I
+never bestow on any but my greatest favorites. It is called the crown
+of Contentment. I reserve it for those who, led on by Perseverance,
+come to me by the Right Path, in spite of Difficulty and Danger. Those
+who arrive at my presence by any of the many other roads that are open
+to mankind I give over to the charge of some of my inferior
+attendants, such as Pride, Vanity, or Ambition, who amuse themselves
+by making them play all manner of strange tricks."
+
+Thus saying, she put the crown upon his head, and the Prince found the
+most delightful tranquil feeling spread through his whole body.
+Nevertheless, he could not help looking about almost instantly for the
+figure of the ugly little gray dwarf; and, as he could not see him
+anywhere, he said to the beautiful lady: "Where is that hideous,
+yawning Satiety? I hope he has left the palace."
+
+"He may be hanging about in some dark corners of the palace," answered
+the lady, "or hiding among the roses in your garden of Pleasure; but
+he will never appear in your presence again, so long as you wear that
+crown upon your head; for there is a rich jewel called Moderation in
+the crown of Contentment which is too bright and pure to be looked
+upon by Satiety."
+
+
+
+
+THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE
+
+OR THE KIDNAPPED CHILD
+
+
+In a beautiful villa on the banks of the Medway resided a gentleman
+whose name was Darnley, who had, during the early part of life, filled
+a post of some importance about the Court, and even in its decline
+preserved that elegance of manners which so peculiarly marks a
+finished gentleman.
+
+The loss of a beloved wife had given a pensive cast to his features,
+and a seriousness to his deportment, which many people imagined
+proceeded from haughtiness of disposition, yet nothing could be
+further from Mr. Darnley's character, for he was affable, gentle,
+benevolent, and humane.
+
+His family consisted of an only sister, who, like himself, had lost
+the object of her tenderest affection, but who, in dividing her
+attention between her brother and his amiable children, endeavored to
+forget her own misfortunes.
+
+Mr. Darnley's fortune was sufficiently great to enable him to place
+his daughters in the first school in London, but he preferred having
+them under his immediate instruction, and as Mrs. Collier offered to
+assist him in their education he resolved for some years not to engage
+a governess, as Nurse Chapman was one of those worthy creatures to
+whose care he could securely trust them.
+
+An old friend of Mr. Darnley's had recently bought a house at
+Rochester, and that gentleman and his sister were invited to pass a
+few days there, and as Emily grew rather too big for the nurse's
+management Mrs. Collier resolved to make her of the party, leaving
+Sophia, Amanda, and Eliza under that good woman's protection.
+
+It was Mr. Darnley's wish that the young folks should rise early and
+take a long walk every morning before breakfast, but they were
+strictly ordered never to go beyond their own grounds unless their
+aunt or father accompanied them. This order they had frequently
+endeavored to persuade Nurse Chapman to disregard, but, faithful to
+the trust reposed in her, she always resisted their urgent entreaties.
+
+The morning after Mr. Darnley went to Rochester the poor woman found
+herself thoroughly indisposed, and wholly incapable of rising at the
+accustomed hour. The children, however, were dressed for walking, and
+the nurse-maid charged not to go beyond the shrubbery, and they all
+sallied out in high good humor.
+
+"Now, Susan," said Sophia, as soon as they entered the garden, "this
+is the only opportunity you may ever have of obliging us. Do let us
+walk to the village, and then you know you can see your father and
+mother."
+
+"La, missy!" replied the girl, "why, you know 'tis as much as my place
+is worth if Nurse Chapman should find out."
+
+"Find it out indeed," said Amanda; "how do you think she is to find it
+out? Come, do let us go, there's a dear, good creature."
+
+"Yes, dear, dear Susan, do let us go," said Eliza, skipping on before
+them, "and I'll show you the way, for I walked there last summer with
+father."
+
+Whether it was the wish of obliging the young ladies, or the desire of
+seeing her parents, I cannot pretend to say, but in a luckless hour
+Susan yielded, and the party soon reached the village.
+
+Susan's mother was delighted at seeing her, and highly honored by the
+young ladies' presence.
+
+"Oh, sweet, dear creatures!" said the old woman, "I must get something
+for them to eat after their long walk, and my oven's quite hot, and I
+can bake them a little cake in a quarter of an hour, and I'll milk
+Jenny in ten minutes."
+
+The temptation of her hot cake and new milk was not to be withstood,
+and Susan began taking down some smart china cups, which were arranged
+in form upon the mantelpiece, and carefully dusted them for the young
+ladies' use.
+
+Eliza followed the old woman into the cow-house, and began asking a
+thousand questions, when her attention was suddenly attracted by the
+appearance of a tame lamb, who went up bleating to its mistress with
+a view of asking its accustomed breakfast.
+
+"You must wait a little, Billy," said the woman, "and let your betters
+be served before you. Don't you see that we have got gentlefolks to
+breakfast with us this morning?"
+
+Eliza was so delighted with the beauty of the little animal that she
+wanted to kiss it, and attempted to restrain it for that purpose,
+while Billy, ungrateful for her intended kindness, gave a sudden
+spring and frisked away.
+
+Eliza followed in hopes of being able to catch him, but he ran baaing
+along into the high road.
+
+A woman whose appearance was descriptive of poverty but whose smiling
+countenance indicated good nature, at that moment happened to pass,
+and, accosting Eliza in a tone of familiarity, said: "That's not half
+such a pretty lamb, miss, as I have got at home, and not a quarter so
+tame, for if you did but say, 'Bob' he'd follow you from one end of
+the town to the other, and then he'll fetch and carry like a dog,
+stand up on his hind legs, when my husband says 'Up' for the thing,
+and play more tricks than a young kitten."
+
+"Oh, the pretty creature," replied Eliza, "how I should like to see
+it!"
+
+"Well, come along with me, miss," said the woman, "for I only lives
+just across the next field, but you must run as hard as you can,
+because my husband is going to work, and he generally takes Bob with
+him."
+
+"Well, make haste, then," said Eliza.
+
+"Give me your hand, miss," replied the woman; "for we can run faster
+together. But there goes my husband, I declare; and there's Bob, as
+usual, skipping on before."
+
+"Where? where?" exclaimed Eliza, stretching her little neck as far as
+she possibly could, to see if she could discern the lamb.
+
+"You are not tall enough," said the artful creature; "but let me lift
+you up, miss, and then I dare say you will see them;" and, instantly
+catching her up, she cried out: "Look directly towards the steeple,
+miss; but I'll run with you in my arms, and I warrant we'll soon
+overtake them."
+
+Eliza looked, but looked in vain, and, perceiving the woman had soon
+carried her out of sight of the cottage, begged she would set her
+down, as she dare not go any farther.
+
+The vile creature was absolutely incapable of replying, for her breath
+was nearly exhausted by the rapidity of the motion, and Eliza
+continued entreating her to stop, and struggled violently to elude her
+grasp.
+
+At length, after a quarter of an hour's exertion, the woman found
+herself incapable of proceeding, and stopped suddenly, sat down on a
+bank, keeping tight hold of Eliza's arms, who cried dreadfully, and
+besought her to let her go.
+
+"Let you go!" she replied; "what, after all the plague I've had to
+knap you? No, no, you don't catch me at that, I promise you; but be a
+good girl, and don't cry, and then you may see Bob by and by,
+perhaps."
+
+"Oh, my sisters! my sisters! Let me go to my sisters!" cried the
+child.
+
+"I'll find plenty of sisters for you in a few days," said the vile
+creature; "but they won't know you in them there fine clothes; so
+let's pull them off in a minute, and then we'll have another run after
+Bob."
+
+So saying, she stripped off the white frock, hat, and tippet. The rest
+of the things shared the same fate, and Eliza was compelled to put on
+some old rags which the inhuman creature took out of a bag she carried
+under her petticoat; then, taking a bottle of liquid from the same
+place, she instantly began washing Eliza's face with it, and,
+notwithstanding all her remonstrances, cut her beautiful hair close to
+her head.
+
+Thus metamorphosed, it would have been impossible even for Mr. Darnley
+to have known his child, and they proceeded onward until her little
+legs would carry her no farther. At this period they were overtaken by
+the Canterbury wagon, and for a mere trifle the driver consented to
+let them ride to London. Eliza's tears continued to flow, but she
+dared not utter a complaint, as her inhuman companion protested she
+would break every bone in her skin if she ventured to make the least
+noise.
+
+When they arrived in town, she was dragged (for to walk she was
+unable) to a miserable hole down several steps, where they gave her
+some bread and butter to eat, and then desired her to go to bed.
+
+The bed, if such it might be called, was little else than a bundle of
+rags thrown into a corner of the room, with a dirty blanket spread
+across it; and there she was left by her inhuman kidnapper to mourn
+her misfortunes and lament having disregarded her fathers'
+injunctions.
+
+The next morning she was forced to rise the moment it was light, and
+to walk as far as her little legs would carry her before they stopped
+anywhere to take refreshment. The second night was passed in a barn,
+and about five o'clock the third afternoon they knocked at the door of
+a neat-looking cottage, where nine or ten children were sitting in a
+little room making lace.
+
+"Why, Peggy," said the woman, as she opened the door, "I thought you
+never would have come again! However, I see you have got me a hand at
+last, and God knows I'm enough in want of her; for two of my brats
+have thought proper to fall sick, and I have more to do than ever I
+had in my life."
+
+On the following day Eliza's filthy rags were all taken off, and she
+was dressed in a tidy brown-stuff gown, a nice clean round-eared cap,
+and a little colored bib and apron; and she was ordered, if any person
+asked her name, to say it was Biddy Bullen, and that she was niece to
+the woman who employed her.
+
+The severity with which all this wretch's commands were enforced
+wholly prevented any of the helpless victims who were under her
+protection from daring to disobey them; and though most of them were
+placed under her care by the same vile agent who had decoyed Eliza,
+yet they were all tutored to relate similar untruths.
+
+But I now think it is high time to carry my little readers back to the
+cottage scene, where Susan was arranging things in order for
+breakfast, and Sophia and her sister were anxiously watching the
+moment when the cake was pronounced completely ready.
+
+The old woman soon returned with the milk-pail on her arm, and Susan
+eagerly demanded: "Where's Miss Eliza?"
+
+"Oh, the pretty creature!" replied her mother, "she'll be here in a
+minute, I warrant her; but she has gone skipping after our Billy, and
+the two sweet innocents they are together."
+
+She then went to the oven, produced the cake, and began buttering it
+with all expedition, while Sophia joyously ran to the door of the
+cow-house, and began loudly calling her sister Eliza.
+
+No answer being returned, Susan began to feel alarmed, but the young
+ladies told her not to be frightened, as they knew it was only one of
+Eliza's pranks. But, alas! too soon were they convinced it was no
+joke, but some dreadful misfortune must have happened.
+
+"Miss Eliza! Miss Eliza!" was vociferated through the village, not
+only by Susan and her mother, but by all the neighbors who had heard
+of the calamity, while her sisters ran about frantic with grief,
+crying, "Eliza, my love! my darling! Oh, if you are hid, for pity's
+sake speak!"
+
+Nurse Chapman got up about half-past nine, and, hearing the children
+were not returned from their walk, sent the housemaid directly after
+them.
+
+The garden, the shrubbery, and the lawn were all searched without
+success; and just as Betty was returning to inform the nurse they were
+not to be found, she perceived Susan and the two children enter a
+little green gate at the bottom of the shrubbery.
+
+"Where's Miss Eliza?" called Betty, in a voice as loud as she could
+articulate.
+
+"God knows! God knows!" replied the careless girl, sobbing so loud she
+could scarcely speak.
+
+"How! where! when!" said the others. "Why, poor nurse will go stark,
+staring mad!"
+
+By that time the poor woman had quitted her room, and walked into the
+garden to see what had become of her little charges; and, not directly
+missing Eliza from the group, which was then fast approaching towards
+the house, she called out:
+
+"Come, my dear children--come along! I thought you would never have
+returned again." And, observing Eliza was not with them, she
+continued: "But, Susan, what's become of my sweet bird? Where's my
+little darling, Miss Eliza?"
+
+"Oh, nurse! nurse!" said Sophia, "my sister's lost! indeed she's
+lost!"
+
+"Lost!" exclaimed the poor old woman--"lost! What do you tell me? What
+do I hear? Oh, my master! my dear master! never shall I bear to see
+his face again!"
+
+Susan then repeated every circumstance just as has been related, and
+with sighs and tears bewailed her own folly in suffering herself to be
+over-persuaded. And the children declared they dare not encounter
+their father's displeasure.
+
+The men servants were instantly summoned and sent on horseback
+different ways. That she had been stolen admitted of no doubt, as
+there was no water near the cottage; and had any accident happened,
+they must have found her, as they had searched every part of the
+village before they ventured to return home.
+
+One servant was sent to Rochester, another towards London, and a third
+and fourth across the country roads; but no intelligence could be
+obtained, nor the slightest information gathered, by which the
+unfortunate child could be found, or her wicked decoyer's footsteps
+traced.
+
+When Mr. Darnley was apprised of the calamitous event, the agitation
+of his mind may be easily conceived, but can never be described.
+
+Handbills were instantly circulated all over the country, the child's
+person described, and a reward of five hundred guineas offered for her
+restoration.
+
+Sophia and Amanda were inconsolable, and Susan was ordered to be
+discharged before Mr. Darnley returned home, which he did not for more
+than a month after the melancholy circumstance happened, as he was not
+satisfied with sending messengers in pursuit of his lost treasure, but
+went himself to all those wretched parts of London where poverty and
+vice are known to dwell, in the hope of meeting the object of his
+solicitude, and at length gave up the interesting pursuit, because he
+found his health rendered him incapable of continuing it.
+
+Nine tedious months passed away without any intelligence of the lost
+Eliza; and time, which is a general remedy for all misfortunes, had
+not softened the severity of their affliction. Mrs. Collier had
+engaged a lady to be governess to her nieces, as her attention had
+been wholly devoted to her unfortunate brother, whose agitated state
+of mind had produced a bodily complaint which demanded her unremitting
+care and tenderness.
+
+Although Emily loved Eliza with the fondest affection, yet her grief
+was much less poignant than either of her sisters', as she could not
+accuse herself with being accessory to her loss.
+
+"Never, never shall I forgive myself," Sophia would often say, "for
+having deviated from my dear father's command! Oh, so good and
+indulgent as he is to us, how wicked it was to transgress his will! I
+was the eldest, and ought to have known better, and my poor Eliza is
+the sufferer for my crime!"
+
+Thus would she bewail her folly and imprudence, until, agonized by the
+torture of her own reflections, she would sink down in a chair quite
+exhausted, and burst into a flood of tears.
+
+While the family at Darnley Hall were thus a prey to unavailing
+sorrow, the lovely little girl who had occasioned it was beginning to
+grow more reconciled to the cruelty of her destiny, and to support her
+different mode of life with resignation and composure. She had
+acquired such a degree of skill in the art of lacemaking (which was
+the business her employer followed) as generally to be able to perform
+the tasks which were allotted her; and if it so happened she was
+incapable of doing it, Sally Butchell, a child almost two years older
+than herself, of whom she was very fond, was always kind enough to
+complete it for her.
+
+The cottage in which the vile Mrs. Bullen resided was situated about a
+quarter of a mile from High Wycombe; and whenever she was obliged to
+go to that place, either to purchase or to dispose of her goods, she
+always went either before her family were up, or after they had
+retired to rest, locking the door constantly after her, and putting
+the key in her pocket, so that the poor little souls had no
+opportunity of telling their misfortunes to any human creature.
+
+One intense hot afternoon, in the month of August, as the children
+were sitting hard at work with the door open for the sake of air, an
+elderly lady and gentleman walked up to it, and begged to be
+accommodated with a seat, informing Mrs. Bullen their carriage had
+broken down a mile distant, and they had been obliged to walk in the
+heat of the sun.
+
+The appearance of so many children, all industriously employed, was a
+sight particularly pleasing to the liberal-minded Mrs. Montague, and
+she immediately began asking the woman several questions about them;
+but there was something of confusion in her manner of replying that
+called forth Mrs. Montague's surprise and astonishment.
+
+"They really are lovely children, my dear," said she, turning to Mr.
+Montague, who had stood at the door watching the approach of the
+carriage, which he perceived coming forward; "and as to that little
+creature with the mole under her left eye, I declare I think it is a
+perfect beauty."
+
+Mr. Montague turned his head, and regarded Eliza with a look that at
+once proved that his sentiments corresponded with those of his lady.
+
+"What is your name, my love?" said he, in a tone of kindness which
+poor Eliza had long been a stranger to.
+
+The child colored like scarlet, and looked immediately at her inhuman
+employer, who, catching the contagion, replied with evident marks of
+confusion:
+
+"Her name is Biddy Bullen, sir; she's my niece; but 'tis a poor timid
+little fool, and is always in a fright when gentlefolks happen to
+speak to her. Go, Biddy," she continued--"go up into my bedroom, and
+mind that thread which you'll find upon the reel."
+
+"You should try to conquer that timidity," said Mr. Montague, "by
+making her answer every stranger who speaks to her; but by taking that
+office upon yourself, you absolutely encourage the shyness you
+complain of. Come hither, my little girl," continued he, observing she
+was retiring upstairs, "and tell the lady what your name is."
+
+Encouraged by the kindness of Mr. Montague's address, the agitated
+child obeyed the summons, although Mrs. Bullen attempted to force her
+into resistance.
+
+"Well," continued the old gentleman, patting her on the cheek, "and
+where did you get that pretty mole?"
+
+"My mother gave it me, sir," replied the blushing child; "but I did
+not see her do it, because Nurse Chapman told me she went to heaven as
+soon as I was born."
+
+"Your mother! And what was your mother's name?" said Mr. Montague.
+
+"Darnley, sir," said the child, and suddenly recollecting the lesson
+that had been taught her--"but my name is Biddy Bullen, and that is my
+aunt."
+
+"Darnley!" exclaimed Mrs. Montague--"the very child that has been for
+these twelve months past advertised in all the papers"--then turning
+to convince herself of the fact--"and the very mole confirms it."
+
+Mr. Montague immediately attempted to secure the woman, but her
+activity eluded his grasp, and darting out at the back door she was
+out of sight in a few moments.
+
+"Is she really gone? Is she gone?" all the little voices at once
+demanded, and upon Mr. Montague's assuring them she was really gone
+for ever, their joy broke out in a thousand different ways--some
+cried, some laughed, and others jumped. In short, there never was a
+scene more completely calculated to interest the feelings of a
+benevolent heart.
+
+Mr. Montague's carriage at this period arrived, and the footman was
+desired to fetch a magistrate from Wycombe, while the worthy clergyman
+resolved to remain there until his arrival, and began questioning all
+the children. Two had been there from so early a period that they
+could give no account of their name or origin, but all the rest were
+so clear in their description that the benevolent Mr. Montague had no
+doubt of being able to restore them to their afflicted parents.
+
+The magistrate soon arrived, attended by the worthy rector of the
+place, who, hearing from Mr. Montague's servant that a child had been
+stolen, came with the intent of offering his services.
+
+All but Eliza were immediately put under his protection, but Mrs.
+Montague was so anxious she should be their earliest care that she
+begged her husband to order a post-chaise directly, and set off
+immediately for town. This request was willingly complied with, and by
+three o'clock the next afternoon the party arrived at Darnley Hall.
+
+Mrs. Collier was standing at the window when the carriage stopped, and
+looking earnestly at her niece suddenly exclaimed in a tone of
+rapture: "My child! My child! My lost Eliza!"
+
+Mr. Darnley, who was reading, sprang from his seat, and flew to the
+door in a ecstasy of joy. In less than a minute he returned folding
+his Eliza to his throbbing heart. The joyful intelligence ran through
+the house, and the other children impatiently flew to this scene of
+transport.
+
+To describe their feelings or express their felicity would require the
+aid of the most descriptive pen, and even then would be but faintly
+told, and therefore had much better be passed over.
+
+From that moment the children all unanimously agreed strictly to
+attend to their father's orders, and never in the slightest instance
+act in opposition to his will.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Montague were laden with caresses, and earnestly
+entreated to remain Mr. Darnley's guests. The hospitable invitation
+would have been gladly accepted had not the thoughts of the poor
+children who were still at Wycombe seemed to claim his immediate
+attention, and so great was the philanthropy of Mr. Montague's
+character that he could never rest satisfied if a single duty remained
+unfulfilled.
+
+
+
+
+DICKY RANDOM
+
+OR GOOD NATURE IS NOTHING WITHOUT GOOD CONDUCT
+
+
+  "In festive play this maxim prize--
+  Be always merry--always WISE!"
+
+"Do you know what hour it is when you see a clock?" said Mr. Random to
+his little son Richard.
+
+"Yes, father," said Richard; "for I can count it all round. When both
+hands are at the top of the clock, then I know it is time to leave
+school."
+
+"Then go and see what time it is," said his father.
+
+Away ran Richard, and brought back word in a moment that it was
+exactly six o'clock.
+
+In a few minutes after came in a friend with a young lady, the former
+of whom asked Mr. Random why he was not ready to go with them to the
+concert that evening, as he had promised. Mr. Random replied that it
+was but six o'clock, which, however, he was soon convinced was a
+mistake of Richard's, who, on being asked what he saw when he looked
+on the clock, replied, "I saw the two hands together close to the six,
+and that made me say it was six, for I always call it twelve when they
+are right opposite."
+
+"Remember, my dear," said his father, "that the long hand never tells
+the hour, except on the stroke of twelve. You ought to know that the
+minute hand overtakes its fellow somewhat later every hour, till at
+noon and midnight they again start exactly even; and when a bigger boy
+I shall expect you to tell me how much difference is increased every
+time they come into conjunction. You now see, Dicky, that through such
+a mistake I must make my friends wait; pray, therefore, mind better
+another time."
+
+In a few minutes after his father bid him go into the dining-room, and
+bring down a bottle of wine, which stood in the _hither_ corner of
+the cellaret, that he might help the gentleman, and lady to a glass.
+
+"Yes, father," said little Dick, and up he went. On the stairs he met
+puss, and stopped to play with her, during which he forgot what had
+been told him. Having gotten a bottle, downstairs he came, and,
+pouring out a couple of glasses, he returned with it. But, when on the
+landing-place, he naughtily drew out the cork to have a taste himself.
+It was not only very vulgar to drink out of the neck of a bottle, but
+wrong to make free slily with that which he was merely entrusted to
+serve out. However, it rushed so fast into his mouth, and was so hot,
+that he was afraid of being strangled. It happened that he had bitten
+his cheek that morning, and the liquor bathing the sore place made it
+smart so that he put down the bottle on the floor, when, in stamping
+about, it rolled downstairs and made a fine clatter. His father ran
+out on hearing the noise, but was stopped in the way by seeing the
+young lady almost gasping for breath, and it was some minutes before
+she could say that he had given her brandy instead of wine.
+
+Mr. Random next proceeded upstairs, where little Dick was picking up
+the pieces of broken glass, in doing which he cut a deep gash in his
+hand.
+
+"Where did you take the bottle from?"
+
+"Out of the _farther_ side of the cellaret," said Dicky.
+
+"I told you to take it from the _hither_ side," replied Mr. Random.
+"But, however, you shall smart for your neglect: what remains of the
+brandy will serve to bathe your hand, and I hope the pain will make
+you reflect that the loss is the same to me, whether you spilt it from
+design or inattention."
+
+He one day made his mother look very simple at table, for which he
+deserved to have suffered much more than her good nature required.
+Young Random was to have a grand rout in the evening with some of his
+little favorites. A few nice tarts, custards, etc., had been made in
+the morning for the occasion, and had been most temptingly baked in
+the forenoon.
+
+It happened that two gentlemen called on Mr. Random about two o'clock,
+and he insisted upon their staying to dinner; in consequence of which
+his lady had the pastry removed from the side board to the
+china-closet.
+
+All children must frequently have heard their mothers say, when they
+wish to have anything saved for another occasion, "My friends, you see
+your dinner before you; I hope you will consider yourselves at home
+and not spare." This is always thought to be a sufficient excuse for
+not bringing anything of another sort to table.
+
+When the meat was nearly done with, Mrs. Random made the above remark
+to her visitors, who declared that nothing more was requisite. She
+then bid the servant put the cheese on the table.
+
+"What, mother," said Richard, "is there nothing else?"
+
+"No, my love," said his mother; "I am sure you want nothing more."
+
+"Why, yes, mother. Where are the tarts and custards you put into the
+closet?"
+
+"Surely you dream?" said his mother.
+
+"No, I don't indeed," replied Dicky. "You put them away directly the
+gentlemen said they would stay to dine, and observed what a deal of
+trouble visitors do give."
+
+Any one will easily believe that this made Mrs. Random look very
+confused. She hardly knew what to reply, but she turned it off in the
+best manner she could, and said:
+
+"It is you, Richard, who trouble me more than the visits of my
+friends. I am happy to see them always, but on some days more than
+others. To-day, you know, we have been preparing for _your_ company,
+and therefore the reserve I have kept would not have been made but on
+your account. The pastry was intended for _your_ visitors, and not
+your father's. However, if you are such a child that you cannot wait
+till night, they shall be brought to table now; but, remember, I will
+not order any more to be made, and you shall provide for your
+playmates out of the money put by to purchase the magic-lantern and
+the books."
+
+Richard looked quite down when he heard this sentence, and more so
+when he saw the pastry placed on the table.
+
+Dear me, how soon had the tarts and custards disappeared, if one of
+each had been served round to the company! But the gentlemen were too
+polite even to taste them, and father and mother declined eating any.
+Richard's sister said she could very well wait till supper; hence they
+were all saved. But Dicky was afterwards very severely taken to task
+for speaking out of time, when he was not spoken to.
+
+When evening came, and the little visitors were assembled, Richard,
+who had seen some of the sports at a country fair, would show his
+dexterity to amuse his young party. He took up the poker, and,
+supposing it to be a pole, performed some imitations. But, unable long
+to preserve it upright from its weight, the sooty end fell on Master
+Snapper's book, who was reading a little work upon "Affability." The
+blow fairly knocked it out of his hand, and made a great smear on his
+frilled shirt, at which a loud laugh ensued. Now Master Snapper could
+not bear to be laughed at, and was so much out of humor all the
+evening that he would not play.
+
+Little Dick never once, all this time, thought that if it had fallen
+on his playfellow's toe, it might have lamed him, and he would at
+least have had to carry him a pick-a-back home; nor did he think who
+was to have paid the doctor; but, pleased with the mirth he had made,
+he went upstairs and fetched down one of the pistols, which his father
+kept in a private drawer. Then, pulling in his rocking-horse, he
+fancied he was one of the Light Horse, and mounted it to show the
+sword exercise, and how he could shoot a Frenchman or a Turk at full
+gallop. He had no business with a rocking-horse or a pistol among
+young ladies, but he never thought if it were proper or not, and much
+less if the pistol were loaded.
+
+While he was going on a full canter, he gave the words, "Present!
+fire!" and off it went, knocked him backwards, and shivered a
+beautiful mirror into a thousand pieces. Oh, what a sad scene of
+confusion ensued! Some of the young ladies screamed out with fright.
+Miss Timid, knocked down by Dicky in falling backwards, lay on the
+ground bleeding at the nose. Some were employed in picking up the
+pieces of glass, or pinning their handkerchiefs over the fracture, to
+prevent its being seen while they stayed; but such a hope was vain.
+
+The noise brought Mr. and Mrs. Random and all the servants upstairs,
+who too soon found out the havoc that had been made, and demanded how
+it happened. All the children would willingly have screened Dicky,
+because they knew he had not done it to frighten, but to amuse them.
+Master Snapper, however, now thinking it was his turn, in a very
+ill-natured speech made the worst of the story. But the spiteful way
+in which he spoke did little Dick no harm, as he seemed more rejoiced
+at his misfortune than sorry for Mr. Random's loss; hence it had the
+effect not to increase the latter's anger.
+
+"Playing with balancing poles and pistols," said Mr. Random in a stern
+accent to his son, "is very well in a proper place, but quite
+inadmissible in a room full of company. Now, sir, what business had
+you to take this pistol out of my room?"
+
+"Indeed, father," said Dicky, crying, "I did not know it was loaded."
+
+"It is but last week," continued his father, "that you were told never
+to take such a thing without asking, and not even then till some one
+had tried if it were loaded. So many accidents have happened with
+firearms which have been supposed not to be loaded, that he who
+unguardedly shoots another ought to take a similar chance for his own
+life; for you know the Scripture says: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth
+for a tooth.' Think, Richard, that if I had been standing before the
+mirror, what would have been the consequence. You would have shot your
+father! Your mother would have died of grief, and you and Letitia have
+been orphans!"
+
+"Ah, then I should have died too!" said Dicky, wiping the tears from
+his eyes with the back of his hand. "But how came you to load the
+pistol last night, father?"
+
+"Because," replied his father, "I thought I heard something fall in
+the parlor, and the passage-door being directly after shut to in a
+still manner. I loaded the pistols, thinking that thieves had broken
+into the house, and pushed up the sash to shoot the first that came
+out."
+
+"Then it was lucky," said Richard, "I did not come out again, or you
+might have killed me; for I got up in the night to let Juno out of the
+shed, where I had tied her up, and she was making a sad howling.
+Indeed, before I was aware, she ran into the parlor, and, as it was
+quite dark, I tumbled over her."
+
+"And broke the geranium tree," added his father.
+
+"Yes, I did indeed," said Dicky, "but I did not go to do it. After
+that I turned Juno into the yard, and this I dare say is all the noise
+you heard."
+
+"There is an old saying, my dear little friends," said Mr. Random,
+"which I wish you to attend to, because it has a great deal of truth
+in it: '_The pitcher that goes often safe to the well may come home
+broken at last_.' And so, though the thoughtless and giddy may go on
+for a long while without danger, it will overtake them sooner or
+later. Here is a strong instance of escape from the consequences which
+might have attended Richard's thoughtlessness; besides which, his
+mother could get no more sleep all night, and I, after running the
+risk of catching cold in searching over the house, have this morning
+been at the expense of new fastenings to the doors and windows. The
+next time, however, you rise, Richard, to alarm the family, you shall
+in future roost with the hens or bed in the stable."
+
+Dicky now thought that his parent's resentment had subsided, and, upon
+the latter's calling to him to come, he sprang across the room with
+the greatest alertness; but how suddenly was his smile cast down when
+Mr, Random, taking his hand, ordered him to wish his young friends
+much mirth and a good appetite, while he was going to be punished for
+his misconduct. At once were all their little hands put out to prevent
+Mr. Random's resolution of taking him away, but all their petitions
+were in vain. Richard was forced into an empty cellar, and left with
+no other companion than a glimmering rushlight. Here he was told he
+might do as much mischief as he pleased. The iron bars kept him from
+getting out on one side, and the door was padlocked on the other. In
+this dilemma he marched round and round, crying, with his little
+candle, and saw stuck on the walls the following lines:
+
+  "Empty caves and commons wild
+  Best befit a thoughtless child,
+  A solid wall, an earthen floor,
+  Prison lights, a padlock'd door,
+  Where's no plaything which he may
+  Turn to harm by random play,
+  For in such sport too oft is found
+  A penny-toy will cost a pound.
+  Be wise and merry;---play, but think;
+  For danger stands on folly's brink."
+
+After having been kept in confinement nearly half an hour, Mr. Random
+could no longer resist the pressing solicitations of his son's guests,
+who declined partaking of the supper till Richard was returned to
+them.
+
+Having learned the above lines by heart, he repeated them to his young
+company, and, on his promising to remember their contents, he was
+permitted to sit down to table.
+
+The rest of the evening was spent in innocent cheerfulness, and for
+some time after little Random played with more caution.
+
+We must omit many of the less important neglects of young Random, such
+as letting the toast fall in handling it, shooting his arrow through
+the window, riding a long stick where it might throw persons down,
+leaving things in the way at dark, etc., and proceed to relate a
+good-natured fancy of his which tended more than any of the preceding
+events, to show him the folly of taking any step without first looking
+to what it might lead.
+
+In Mr. Random's garden was a fine tall pear-tree, and that year a very
+fine pear grew on the topmost twig. His mother and sister had several
+times wished for the luscious fruit, but it seemed to bid defiance to
+every attack that was not aided by a tall ladder. "Oh!" thought Dicky,
+"if I can get it down and present it to my mother, how pleased she
+will be!" So, when he was alone, he picked out some large stones and
+threw at it, but without any success. The next day he renewed his
+attack in the evening, and to insure a better chance employed several
+large pieces of brick and tile.
+
+Now all these dangerous weapons went over into a poor man's garden,
+where his son and some other boys were weeding it. One of them fell
+upon the little fellow's leg, and cut it in so desperate a manner that
+he cried out, quite terrified at the blow and sight of the blood. The
+other boys directly took the alarm, and picking up some stones as
+large as that which had done the mischief, they mounted on a high
+bench, and discharged such a well-directed volley at the person of
+Master Random that he was most violently struck upon the nose, and
+knocked backwards into a glass cucumber-frame.
+
+Here he lay in a most pitiable condition, calling upon his mother,
+while the wounded boy on the other side joined in the concert of woe.
+
+"Oh, it served you rightly!" exclaimed the young assailants, who were
+looking over the wall, and ran away as soon as they saw Mr. Random
+come into the garden to inquire the cause of the uproar.
+
+His first concern was to carry Dicky indoors, and then, having wiped
+away the blood and tears, he asked him how it happened.
+
+"I was only trying to get a pear for my mother," said Richard, "when
+these boys threw stones at me, and hit me!"
+
+"That was very cruel," said his father, "to meddle with you when you
+were doing nothing to them, and if I can find them out they shall be
+punished for it."
+
+Mr. Random immediately set off to the next house, but was met at his
+own door by the father of the wounded boy, who was coming with him in
+his arms to demand satisfaction. This brought the whole truth out, and
+the artful little fellow was found to have concealed a part of the
+real case. Instead of saying "he was only getting a pear," he should
+have said that he was throwing large stones at the topmost pear on the
+tree, and that every stone went over the wall, he could not tell
+where.
+
+"Ah, Richard," said his father, "it is little better than
+story-telling to conceal a part of the truth. The affair now wears
+quite a new face. It was you that gave the first assault, and will
+have to answer for all the bad consequences. It is my duty to see that
+this unoffending boy is taken care of; but if his leg be so cut or
+bruised that he cannot get so good a living when he comes to be a man
+as he might otherwise have done, how would you like to make up the
+deficiency? You cannot doubt that he has a demand upon you equal to
+the damage you may have done to him. He is poor, and his father must
+send him to the hospital, but it would be unjust of me to suffer it.
+No, on the contrary, I shall prevent this by taking him home and
+sending you there, where Dr. Hardheart makes his patients smart before
+he cures them. Come, get ready to go, for delays in wounds of the head
+are not to be trifled with."
+
+Mr. Random then ordered the servant to go for a coach, in which Dicky
+most certainly would have been sent off had not word been brought back
+that there was not a coach on the stand. During this time Dicky had
+fallen on his knees, entreating that he might remain at home, and
+offering promises to be less heedless in future; nay, he was willing
+to yield up all his toys to the maimed little gardener.
+
+The boy's father, though but a laboring man, had a generous mind; he
+wanted nothing of this kind, but only wished him to be more cautious
+in future, as the same stones, thrown at random, might have either
+blinded his son or fractured his skull, instead of merely hurting his
+leg. Mr. Random then insisted on Richard's giving him half-a-crown,
+and asking pardon for the misfortune occasioned by his carelessness.
+
+This heavy sum was directly taken out of the hoard which had been laid
+by for the purchase of a set of drawing instruments, but he had a yet
+heavier account to settle with his father for damaging the
+cucumber-frame. He had broken as much of it as would come to fifteen
+shillings to mend, and as payment was insisted on, or close
+confinement until the whole was settled, he was compelled to transfer
+to his father all his receipts for the ensuing five months before he
+could again resume his scheme of laying by an adequate sum to purchase
+the drawing utensils. Independently of which he always carried a
+strong memorial of his folly on his nose, which was so scarred that he
+endured many a joke, as it were, to keep alive in his memory the
+effect of his folly. Indeed, he never looked in the glass without
+seeing his reproach in his face, and thus at length learned never to
+play without first thinking if it were at a proper time and in a
+proper place.
+
+
+
+
+EMBELLISHMENT
+
+By JACOB ABBOTT
+
+
+One day Beechnut, who had been ill, was taken by Phonny and Madeline
+for a drive. When Phonny and Madeline found themselves riding quietly
+along in the wagon in Beechnut's company, the first thought which
+occurred to them, after the interest and excitement awakened by the
+setting out had passed in some measure away, was that they would ask
+him to tell them a story. This was a request which they almost always
+made in similar circumstances. In all their rides and rambles
+Beechnut's stories were an unfailing resource, furnishing them with an
+inexhaustible fund of amusement sometimes, and sometimes of
+instruction.
+
+"Well," said Beechnut, in answer to their request, "I will tell you
+now about my voyage across the Atlantic Ocean."
+
+"Yes," exclaimed Madeline, "I should like to hear about that very much
+indeed."
+
+"Shall I tell the story to you just as it was," asked Beechnut, "as a
+sober matter of fact, or shall I embellish it a little?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean by embellishing it," said Madeline.
+
+"Why, not telling exactly what is true," said Beechnut, "but inventing
+something to add to it, to make it interesting."
+
+"I want to have it true," said Madeline, "and interesting, too."
+
+"But sometimes," replied Beechnut, "interesting things don't happen,
+and in such cases, if we should only relate what actually does happen,
+the story would be likely to be dull."
+
+"I think you had better embellish the story a little," said
+Phonny--"just a _little_, you know."
+
+"I don't think I can do that very well," replied Beechnut. "If I
+attempt to relate the actual acts, I depend simply on my memory, and I
+can confine myself to what my memory teaches; but if I undertake to
+follow my invention, I must go wherever it leads me."
+
+"Well," said Phonny, "I think you had better embellish the story, at
+any rate, for I want it to be interesting."
+
+"So do I," said Madeline.
+
+"Then," said Beechnut, "I will give you an embellished account of my
+voyage across the Atlantic. But, in the first place, I must tell you
+how it happened that my father decided to leave Paris and come to
+America. It was mainly on my account. My father was well enough
+contented with his situation so far as he himself was concerned, and
+he was able to save a large part of his salary, so as to lay up a
+considerable sum of money every year; but he was anxious about me.
+
+"There seemed to be nothing," continued Beechnut, "for me to do, and
+nothing desirable for me to look forward to, when I should become a
+man. My father thought, therefore, that, though it would perhaps be
+better for _him_ to remain in France, It would probably be better for
+_me_ if he should come to America, where he said people might rise in
+the world, according to their talents, thrift, and industry. He was
+sure, he said, that I should rise, for, you must understand, he
+considered me an extraordinary boy."
+
+"Well," said Phonny, "_I_ think you were an extraordinary boy."
+
+"Yes, but my father thought," rejoined Beechnut, "that I was something
+very extraordinary indeed. He thought I was a genius."
+
+"So do I," said Phonny.
+
+"He said," continued Beechnut, "he thought it would in the end be a
+great deal better for him to come to America, where I might become a
+man of some consequence in the world, and he said that he should enjoy
+his own old age a great deal better, even in a strange land, if he
+could see me going on prosperously in life, than to remain all his
+days in that porter's lodge.
+
+"All the money that my father had saved," Beechnut continued, "he got
+changed into gold at an office in the Bouleyard; but then he was very
+much perplexed to decide how it was best to carry it."
+
+"Why did he not pack it up in his chest?" asked Phonny.
+
+"He was afraid," replied Beechnut, "that his chest might be broken
+open, or unlocked by false keys, on the voyage, and that the money
+might be thus stolen away; so he thought that he would try to hide it
+somewhere in some small thing that he could keep with him all the
+voyage."
+
+"Could not he keep his chest with him all the voyage?" asked Phonny.
+
+"No," said Beechnut; "the chests, and all large parcels of baggage
+belonging to the passengers, must be sent down into the hold of the
+ship out of the way. It is only a very little baggage that the people
+are allowed to keep with them between the decks. My father wished very
+much to keep his gold with him, and yet he was afraid to keep it in a
+bag, or in any other similar package, in his little trunk, for then
+whoever saw it would know that it was gold, and so perhaps form some
+plan to rob him of it.
+
+"While we were considering what plan it would be best to adopt for the
+gold, Arielle, who was the daughter of a friend of ours, proposed to
+hide it in my _top_. I had a very large top which my father had made
+for me. It was painted yellow outside, with four stripes of bright
+blue passing down over it from the stem to the point. When the top was
+in motion, both the yellow ground and the blue stripes entirely
+disappeared, and the top appeared to be of a uniform green color.
+Then, when it came to its rest again, the original colors would
+reappear."
+
+"How curious!" said Madeline. "Why would it do so?" "Why, when it was
+revolving," said Beechnut, "the yellow and the blue were blended
+together in the eye, and that made green. Yellow and blue always make
+green. Arielle colored my top, after my father had made it, and then
+my father varnished it over the colors, and that fixed them.
+
+"This top of mine was a monstrous large one, and being hollow, Arielle
+thought that the gold could all be put inside. She said she thought
+that that would be a very safe hiding-place, too, since nobody would
+think of looking into a top for gold. But my father said that he
+thought that the space would not be quite large enough, and then if
+anybody should happen to see the top, and should touch it, the weight
+of it would immediately reveal the secret.
+
+"At last my father thought of a plan which he believed would answer
+the purpose very perfectly. We had a very curious old clock. It was
+made by my grandfather, who was a clockmaker in Geneva. There was a
+little door in the face of the clock, and whenever the time came for
+striking the hours, this door would open, and a little platform would
+come out with a tree upon it. There was a beautiful little bird upon
+the tree, and when the clock had done striking, the bird would flap
+its wings and sing. Then the platform would slide back into its place,
+the door would shut, and the clock go on ticking quietly for another
+hour.
+
+"This clock was made to go," continued Beechnut, "as many other clocks
+are, by two heavy weights, which were hung to the wheel-work by strong
+cords. The cords were wound round some of the wheels, and as they
+slowly descended by their weight, they made the wheels go round. There
+was a contrivance inside the clock to make the wheels go slowly and
+regularly, and not spin round too fast, as they would have done if the
+weights had been left to themselves. This is the way that clocks are
+often made.
+
+"Now, my father," continued Beechnut, "had intended to take this old
+family clock with him to America, and he now conceived the idea of
+hiding his treasure in the weights. The weights were formed of two
+round tin canisters filled with something very heavy. My father said
+he did not know whether it was shot or sand. He unsoldered the bottom
+from these canisters, and found that the filling was shot. He poured
+out the shot, put his gold pieces in in place of it, and then filled
+up all the interstices between and around the gold pieces with sand,
+to prevent the money from jingling. Then he soldered the bottom of the
+canisters on again, and no one would have known that the weights were
+anything more than ordinary clock-weights. He then packed the clock in
+a box, and put the box in his trunk. It did not take up a great deal
+of room, for he did not take the case of the clock, but only the face
+and the works and the two weights, which last he packed carefully and
+securely in the box, one on each side of the clock itself.
+
+"When we got to Havre, all our baggage was examined at the Custom
+House, and the officers allowed it all to pass. When they came to the
+clock, my father showed them the little door and the bird inside, and
+they said it was very curious. They did not pay any attention to the
+weights at all.
+
+"When we went on board of the vessel our chests were put by the side
+of an immense heap of baggage upon the deck, where some seamen were at
+work lowering it down into the hold through a square opening in the
+deck of the ship. As for the trunk, my father took that with him to
+the place where he was going to be himself during the voyage. This
+place was called the steerage. It was crowded full of men, women, and
+children, all going to America. Some talked French, some German, some
+Dutch, and there were ever so many babies that were too little to talk
+at all. Pretty soon the vessel sailed.
+
+"We did not meet with anything remarkable on the voyage, except that
+once we saw an iceberg."
+
+"What is that?" asked Madeline.
+
+"It is a great mountain of ice," replied Beechnut, "floating about in
+the sea on the top of the water. I don't know how it comes to be
+there."
+
+"I should not think it would float upon the top of the water," said
+Phonny. "All the ice that I ever saw in the water sinks into it."
+
+"It does not sink to the bottom," said Madeline.
+
+"No," replied Phonny, "but it sinks down until the top of the ice is
+just level with the water. But Beechnut says that his iceberg rose up
+like a mountain."
+
+"Yes," said Beechnut, "it was several hundred feet high above the
+water, all glittering in the sun. And I think that if you look at any
+small piece of ice floating in the water, you will see that a small
+part of it rises above the surface."
+
+"Yes," said Phenny, "a very little."
+
+"It is a certain proportion of the whole mass," rejoined Beechnut.
+"They told us on board our vessel that about one-tenth part of the
+iceberg was above the water; the rest--that is, nine-tenths--was under
+it; so you see what an enormous big piece of ice it must have been to
+have only one-tenth part of it tower up so high.
+
+"There was one thing very curious and beautiful about our iceberg,"
+said Beechnut. "We came in sight of it one day about sunset, just
+after a shower. The cloud, which was very large and black, had passed
+off into the west, and there was a splendid rainbow upon it. It
+happened, too, that when we were nearest to the iceberg it lay toward
+the west, and, of course, toward the cloud, and it appeared directly
+under the rainbow, and the iceberg and the rainbow made a most
+magnificent spectacle. The iceberg, which was very bright and dazzling
+in the evening sun, looked like an enormous diamond, with the rainbow
+for the setting."
+
+"How curious!" said Phonny.
+
+"Yes," said Beechnut, "and to make it more remarkable still, a whale
+just then came along directly before the iceberg, and spouted there
+two or three times; and as the sun shone very brilliantly upon the jet
+of water which the whale threw into the air, it made a sort of silver
+rainbow below in the center of the picture."
+
+"How beautiful it must have been!" said Phonny.
+
+"Yes," rejoined Beechnut, "very beautiful indeed. We saw a great many
+beautiful spectacles on the sea; but then, on the other hand, we saw
+some that were dreadful.
+
+"Did you?" asked Phonny. "What?"
+
+"Why, we had a terrible storm and shipwreck at the end," said
+Beechnut. "For three days and three nights the wind blew almost a
+hurricane. They took in all the sails, and let the ship drive before
+the gale under bare poles. She went on over the seas for five hundred
+miles, howling all the way like a frightened dog."
+
+"Were you frightened?" asked Phonny.
+
+"Yes," said Beechnut. "When the storm first came on, several of the
+passengers came up the hatchways and got up on the deck to see it; and
+then we could not get down again, for the ship gave a sudden pitch
+just after we came up, and knocked away the step-ladder. We were
+terribly frightened. The seas were breaking over the forecastle and
+sweeping along the decks, and the shouts and outcries of the captain
+and the sailors made a dreadful din. At last they put the step-ladder
+in its place again, and we got down. Then they put the hatches on, and
+we could not come out any more."
+
+"The hatches?" said Phonny. "What are they?"
+
+"The hatches," replied Beechnut, "are a sort of scuttle-doors that
+cover over the square openings in the deck of a ship. They always have
+to put them on and fasten them down in a great storm."
+
+Just at this time the party happened to arrive at a place where two
+roads met, and as there was a broad and level space of ground at the
+junction, where it would be easy to turn the wagon, Beechnut said that
+he thought it would be better to make that the end of their ride, and
+so turn round and go home. Phonny and Madeline were quite desirous of
+going a little farther, but Beechnut thought that he should be tired
+by the time he reached the house again.
+
+"But you will not have time to finish the story," said Phonny.
+
+"Yes," replied Beechnut; "there is very little more to tell. It is
+only to give an account of our shipwreck."
+
+"Why, did you have a shipwreck?" exclaimed Phonny.
+
+"Yes," said Beechnut. "When you have turned the wagon, I will tell you
+about it."
+
+So Phonny, taking a great sweep, turned the wagon round, and the party
+set their faces toward home. The Marshal was immediately going to set
+out upon a trot, but Phonny held him back by pulling upon the reins
+and saying:
+
+"Steady, Marshal! steady! You have got to walk all the way home."
+
+"The storm drove us upon the Nova Scotia coast," said Beechnut,
+resuming his story. "We did not know anything about the great danger
+that we were in until just before the ship went ashore. When we got
+near the shore the sailors put down all the anchors; but they would
+not hold, and at length the ship struck. Then there followed a
+dreadful scene of consternation and confusion. Some jumped into the
+sea in their terror, and were drowned. Some cried and screamed, and
+acted as if they were insane. Some were calm, and behaved rationally.
+The sailors opened the hatches and let the passengers come up, and we
+got into the most sheltered places that we could find about the decks
+and rigging, and tied ourselves to whatever was nearest at hand. My
+father opened his trunk and took out his two clock-weights, and gave
+me one of them; the other he kept himself. He told me that we might as
+well try to save them, though he did not suppose that we should be
+able to do so.
+
+"Pretty soon after we struck the storm seemed to abate a little. The
+people of the country came down to the shore and stood upon the rocks
+to see if they could do anything to save us. We were very near the
+shore, but the breakers and the boiling surf were so violent between
+us and the land that whoever took to the water was sure to be dashed
+in pieces. So everybody clung to the ship, waiting for the captain to
+contrive some way to get us to the shore."
+
+"And what did he do?" asked Phonny.
+
+"He first got a long line and a cask, and he fastened the end of the
+long line to the cask, and then threw the cask overboard. The other
+end of the line was kept on board the ship. The cask was tossed about
+upon the waves, every successive surge driving it in nearer and nearer
+to the shore, until at last it was thrown up high upon the rocks. The
+men upon the shore ran to seize it, but before they could get hold of
+it the receding wave carried it back again among the breakers, where
+it was tossed about as if it had been a feather, and overwhelmed with
+the spray. Presently away it went again up upon the shore, and the men
+again attempted to seize it. This was repeated two or three times. At
+last they succeeded in grasping hold of it, and they ran up with it
+upon the rocks, out of the reach of the seas.
+
+"The captain then made signs to the men to pull the line in toward the
+shore. He was obliged to use signs, because the roaring and thundering
+of the seas made such a noise that nothing could be heard. The sailors
+had before this, under the captain's direction, fastened a much
+stronger line--a small cable, in fact--to the end of the line which
+had been attached to the barrel. Thus, by pulling upon the smaller
+line, the men drew one end of the cable to the shore. The other end
+remained on board the ship, while the middle of it lay tossing among
+the breakers between the ship and the shore.
+
+"The seamen then carried that part of the cable which was on shipboard
+up to the masthead, while the men on shore made their end fast to a
+very strong post which they set in the ground. The seamen drew the
+cable as tight as they could, and fastened their end very strongly to
+the masthead. Thus the line of the cable passed in a gentle slope from
+the top of the mast to the land, high above all the surges and spray.
+The captain then rigged what he called a sling, which was a sort of
+loop of ropes that a person could be put into and made to slide down
+in it on the cable to the shore. A great many of the passengers were
+afraid to go in this way, but they were still more afraid to remain on
+board the ship."
+
+"What were they afraid of?" asked Phonny.
+
+"They were afraid," replied Beechnut, "that the shocks of the seas
+would soon break the ship to pieces, and then they would all be thrown
+into the sea together. In this case they would certainly be destroyed,
+for if they were not drowned, they would be dashed to pieces on the
+rocks which lined the shore.
+
+"Sliding down the line seemed thus a very dangerous attempt, but they
+consented one after another to make the trial, and thus we all escaped
+safe to land."
+
+"And did you get the clock-weights safe to the shore?" asked Phonny.
+
+"Yes," replied Beechnut, "and as soon as we landed we hid them in the
+sand. My father took me to a little cove close by, where there was not
+much surf, as the place was protected by a rocky point of land which
+bounded it on one side. Behind this point of land the waves rolled up
+quietly upon a sandy beach. My father went down upon the slope of this
+beach, to a place a little below where the highest waves came, and
+began to dig a hole in the sand. He called me to come and help him.
+The waves impeded our work a little, but we persevered until we had
+dug a hole about a foot deep. We put our clock-weights into this hole
+and covered them over. We then ran back up upon the beach. The waves
+that came up every moment over the place soon smoothed the surface of
+the sand again, and made it look as if nothing had been done there. My
+father measured the distance from the place where he had deposited his
+treasure up to a certain great white rock upon the shore exactly
+opposite to it, so as to be able to find the place again, and then we
+went back to our company. They were collected on the rocks in little
+groups, wet and tired, and in great confusion, but rejoiced at having
+escaped with their lives. Some of the last of the sailors were then
+coming over in the sling. The captain himself came last of all.
+
+"There were some huts near the place on the shore, where the men made
+good fires, and we warmed and dried ourselves. The storm abated a
+great deal in a few hours, and the tide went down, so that we could go
+off to the ship before night to get some provisions. The next morning
+the men could work at the ship very easily, and they brought all the
+passengers' baggage on shore. My father got his trunk with the clock
+in it. A day or two afterward some sloops came to the place, and took
+us all away to carry us to Quebec. Just before we embarked on board
+the sloops, my father and I, watching a good opportunity, dug up our
+weights out of the sand, and put them back safely in their places in
+the clock-box."
+
+"Is that the end?" asked Phonny, when Beechnut paused.
+
+"Yes," replied Beechnut, "I believe I had better make that the end."
+
+"I think it is a very interesting and well-told story," said Madeline.
+"And do you feel very tired?"
+
+"No," said Beechnut. "On the contrary, I feel all the better for my
+ride. I believe I will sit up a little while."
+
+So saying, he raised himself in the wagon and sat up, and began to
+look about him.
+
+"What a wonderful voyage you had, Beechnut!" said Phonny. "But I never
+knew before that you were shipwrecked."
+
+"Well, in point of fact," replied Beechnut, "I never was
+shipwrecked."
+
+"Never was!" exclaimed Phonny. "Why, what is all this story that you
+have been telling us, then?"
+
+"Embellishment," said Beechnut quietly.
+
+"Embellishment!" repeated Phonny, more and more amazed.
+
+"Yes," said Beechnut.
+
+"Then you were not wrecked at all?" said Phonny.
+
+"No," replied Beechnut.
+
+"And how did you get to the land?" asked Phonny.
+
+"Why, we sailed quietly up the St. Lawrence," replied Beechnut, "and
+landed safely at Quebec, as other vessels do."
+
+"And the clock-weights?" asked Phonny.
+
+"All embellishment," said Beechnut. "My father had no such clock, in
+point of fact. He put his money in a bag, his bag in his chest, and
+his chest in the hold, and it came as safe as the captain's sextant."
+
+"And the iceberg and the rainbow?" said Madeline.
+
+"Embellishment, all embellishment," said Beechnut.
+
+"Dear me!" said Phonny, "I thought it was all true."
+
+"Did you?" said Beechnut. "I am sorry that you were so deceived, and I
+am sure it was not my fault, for I gave you your choice of a true
+story or an invention, and you chose the invention."
+
+"Yes," said Phonny, "so we did."
+
+
+
+
+THE OYSTER PATTIES
+
+
+There was once a little boy who perhaps might have been a good little
+fellow if his friends had taken pains to make him so; but--I do not
+know how it was--instead of teaching him to be good, they gave him
+everything he cried for; so, whenever he wished to have anything, he
+had only to cry, and if he did not get it directly, he cried louder
+and louder till at last he got it. By this means Alfred was not only
+very naughty, but very unhappy. He was crying from morning till night.
+He had no pleasure in anything; he was in everybody's way, and nobody
+liked to be with him.
+
+Well, one day his mother thought she would give him a day of pleasure,
+and make him very happy indeed, so she told him he should have a
+feast, and dine under the great cedar tree that stood upon the lawn,
+and that his cousins should be invited to dine with him, and that he
+should have whatever he chose for his dinner. So she rang the bell,
+and she told the servants to take out tables and chairs and to lay the
+cloth upon the table under the tree, and she ordered her two footmen
+to be ready to wait upon him.
+
+She desired the butler to tell the cook to prepare the dinner, and to
+get all sorts of nice dishes for the feast; but she said to Alfred:
+
+"What shall you like best of all, my dear boy?"
+
+So Alfred tried to think of something that he had never had before,
+and he recollected that one day he had heard a lady, who was dining
+with his father and mother, say that the oyster patties were the best
+she had ever eaten. Now Alfred had never tasted oyster patties, so he
+said he would have oyster patties for dinner.
+
+"Oyster patties, my dear boy? You cannot have oyster patties at this
+time of the year; there are no oysters to be had," his mother said to
+him. "Try, love, to think of something else."
+
+But naughty Alfred said:
+
+"No, I can think of nothing else."
+
+So the cook was sent for, and desired to think of something that he
+might like as well. The cook proposed first a currant pie, then a
+barberry pie, or a codlin pie with custard.
+
+"No, no, no!" said Alfred, shaking his head.
+
+"Or a strawberry tart, my sweet boy? or apricot jam?" said his mother,
+in a soothing tone of voice.
+
+But Alfred said:
+
+"No, mother, no. I don't like strawberries. I don't like apricot jam.
+I want oysters."
+
+"But you cannot have oysters, my little master," said the cook.
+
+"But I will have oysters," said the little boy, "and you shan't say
+that I can't have them--shall she, mother?"
+
+And he began to scream and to cry.
+
+"Do not cry, my sweet soul," said his mother, "and we will see what we
+can do. Dry up your tears, my little man, and come with me, and, the
+cook, I dare say, will be able to get some oysters before dinner. It
+is a long time to dinner, you know, and I have some pretty toys for
+you upstairs, if you will come with me till dinner is ready."
+
+So she took the little crying boy by the hand and led him up to her
+room, and she whispered to the cook, as she passed, not to say
+anything more about it now, and that she hoped he would forget the
+oyster patties by the time dinner was ready. In the meantime she took
+all the pains she could to amuse and please him, and as fast as he
+grew tired of one toy she brought out another.
+
+At last, after some hours, she gave him a beautiful toy for which she
+had paid fifteen shillings. It was a sand toy of a woman sitting at a
+spinning-wheel, and when it was turned up the little figure began
+spinning away, and the wheel turned round and round as fast as if the
+woman who turned it had been alive. Alfred wanted to see how it was
+done, but, instead of going to his mother to ask her if she would be
+so good as to explain it to him, he began pulling it to pieces to look
+behind it. For some time he was very busy, and he had just succeeded
+in opening the large box at the back of the figure when all the sand
+that was in it came pouring out upon the floor, and when he tried to
+make the little woman spin again, he found she would not do it any
+more. She could not, for it was the sand dropping down that had made
+her move before.
+
+Now, do you know that Alfred was so very silly that he began to be
+angry even with the toy, and he said, "Spin, I say! spin directly!"
+and then he shook it very hard, but in vain. The little hands did not
+move, and the wheel stood still. So then he was very angry indeed,
+and, setting up a loud cry, he threw the toy to the other end of the
+room. Just at this very moment the servant opened the door and said
+that dinner was ready, and that Alfred's cousins were arrived.
+
+"Come, my dear child; you are tired of your toys, I see," said his
+mother, "so come to dinner, darling. It is all ready under the tree."
+
+So away they went, leaving the room all strewed with toys, with broken
+pieces, and the sand all spilt in a heap upon the floor. When they
+went under the dark spreading branches of the fine old cedar-tree,
+there they saw the table covered with dishes and garnished with
+flowers. There were chickens, and ham, and tongue, and lobsters,
+besides tarts, and custards, and jellies, and cakes, and cream, and I
+do not know how many nice things besides. There was Alfred's high
+chair at the head of the table, and he was soon seated in it, as
+master of the feast, with his mother sitting by him, his cousins
+opposite to him, his nurse standing on the other side, and the two
+footmen waiting besides.
+
+As soon as his cousins were helped to what they liked best, his mother
+said:
+
+"What will you eat first, Alfred, my love? A wing of a chicken?"
+
+"No," said Alfred, pushing it away.
+
+"A slice of ham, darling?" said nurse.
+
+"No," said Alfred, in a louder tone.
+
+"A little bit of lobster, my dear?"
+
+"No, no," replied the naughty boy.
+
+"Well, what _will_ you have, then?" said his mother, who was almost
+tired of him.
+
+"I will have oyster patties," said he.
+
+"That is the only thing you cannot have, my love, you know, so do not
+think of it any more, but taste a bit of this pie. I am sure you will
+like it."
+
+"You _said_ I should have oyster patties by dinner-time," said Alfred,
+"and so I will have nothing else."
+
+"I am sorry you are such a sad, naughty child," said his mother. "I
+thought you would have been so pleased with all these nice things to
+eat."
+
+"They are _not_ nice," said the child, who was not at all grateful for
+all that his mother had done, but was now in such a passion that he
+took the piece of currant tart which his nurse again offered to him,
+and, squeezing, up as much as his two little hands could hold, he
+threw it at his nurse, and stained her nice white handkerchief and
+apron with the red juice.
+
+Just at this moment his father came into the garden, and walked up to
+the table.
+
+"What is all his?" said he. "Alfred, you seem to be a very naughty boy
+indeed; and I must tell you, sir, I shall allow this no longer. Get
+down from your chair, sir, and beg your nurse's pardon."
+
+Alfred had hardly ever heard his father speak so before, and he felt
+so frightened that he left off crying and did as he was bid. Then his
+father took him by the hand and led him away.
+
+His mother said she was sure he would now be good and eat the currant
+tart; but his father said:
+
+"No, no, it is now too late; he must come with me."
+
+So he led him away, without saying another word.
+
+He took him into the village, and he stopped at the door, of a poor
+cottage.
+
+"May we come in?" said his father.
+
+"Oh yes, and welcome," said a poor woman, who was standing at a table
+with a saucepan in her hand.
+
+"What are you doing, my good woman?"
+
+"Only putting out the children's supper, your honor."
+
+"And what have you got for their supper?"
+
+"Only some potatoes, please you, sir; but they be nicely boiled, and
+here come the hungry boys! They are coming in from their work, and
+they will soon make an end of them, I warrant."
+
+As she said these words in came John, and William, and Thomas, all
+with rosy cheeks and smiling faces. They sat down--one on a wooden
+stool, one on a broken chair, and one on the corner of the table--and
+they all began to eat the potatoes very heartily.
+
+But Alfred's father said:
+
+"Stop, my good boys; do not eat any more, but come with me."
+
+The boys stared, but their mother told them to do as they were bid, so
+they left off eating and followed the gentleman.
+
+Alfred and his father walked on till they arrived once more under the
+cedar-tree in the garden, and there was the fine feast all standing
+just as they had left it, for Alfred's cousins were gone away, and his
+mother would not have the dinner taken away, because she hoped that
+Alfred would come back to it.
+
+"Now, boys," said the gentleman, "you may all sit down to this table
+and eat whatever you like."
+
+John, William, and Thomas sat down as quickly as they could, and began
+to devour the chickens and tarts, and all the good things, at a great
+rate; and Alfred, who now began to be very hungry, would gladly have
+been one of the party; but when he was going to sit down, his father
+said:
+
+"No, sir; this feast is not for _you_. There is nothing here that you
+like to eat, you know; so you will wait upon these boys, if you
+please, who seem as if they would find plenty that they will like."
+
+Alfred at this began to cry again, and said he wanted to go to his
+mother; but his father did not mind his crying, and said he should not
+go to his mother again till he was quite a good boy.
+
+"So now, sir, hand this bread to John, and now take a clean plate to
+Thomas, and now stand ready to carry this custard to William. There
+now, wait till they have all done."
+
+It was of no use now to cry or scream; he was obliged to do it all.
+
+When the boys had quite finished their supper they went home, and
+Alfred was led by his father into the house. Before he went to bed, a
+cup of milk and water and a piece of brown bread were put before him,
+and his father said:
+
+"That is your supper, Alfred."
+
+Alfred began to cry again, and said he did not want such a supper as
+that.
+
+"Very well," said his father, "then go to bed without, and it shall be
+saved for your breakfast."
+
+Alfred cried and screamed louder than ever, so his father ordered the
+maid to put him to bed. When he was in bed, he thought his mother
+would come and see him and bring him something nice, and he lay awake
+a long while; but she did not come, and he cried and cried till at
+last he fell asleep.
+
+In the morning, when he awoke, he was so hungry he could hardly wait
+to be dressed, but asked for his breakfast every minute. When he saw
+the maid bring in the brown bread again without any butter, and some
+milk and water, he was very near crying again; but he thought if he
+did he should perhaps lose his breakfast as he had lost his supper, so
+he checked his tears, and ate a hearty meal.
+
+"Well," said his father, who came into the room just as he was eating
+the last bit of bread, "I am glad to see the little boy who could not
+yesterday find anything good enough for him at a feast eating such
+simple fare as this so heartily. Come, Alfred, now you may come to
+your dear mother."
+
+
+
+
+TWO LITTLE BOYS
+
+By THOMAS DAY
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY
+
+
+A little boy went out one morning to walk to a village about five
+miles from the place where he lived, and carried with him in a basket
+the provision that was to serve him the whole day. As he was walking
+along a poor little half-starved dog came up to him, wagging his tail
+and seeming to entreat him to take compassion on him.
+
+The little boy at first took no notice of him, but at length,
+remarking how lean and famished the creature seemed to be, he said:
+"This animal is certainly in very great necessity. If I give him part
+of my provision I shall be obliged to go home hungry myself; however,
+as he seems to want it more than I do, he shall partake with me."
+Saying this, he gave the dog part of what he had in his basket, who
+ate as if he had not tasted victuals for a fortnight.
+
+The little boy went on a little further, his dog still following him
+and fawning upon him with the greatest gratitude and affection, when
+he saw a poor old horse lying upon the ground, and groaning as if he
+was very ill. He went up to him, and saw that he was almost starved,
+and so weak that he was unable to rise. "I am very much afraid," said
+the little boy, "if I stay to assist this horse that it will be dark
+before I can return, and I have heard there are several thieves in the
+neighborhood. However, I will try. It is doing a good action to
+attempt to relieve him, and God Almighty will take care of me." He
+then went and gathered some grass, which he brought to the horse's
+mouth, who immediately began to eat with as much relish as if his
+chief disease was hunger. He then fetched some water in his hat,
+which the animal drank up, and seemed immediately to be so much
+refreshed that after a few trials he got up and began grazing.
+
+He then went on a little further, and saw a man wading about in a pool
+of water without being able to get out, in spite of all his endeavors.
+"What is the matter, good man?" said the little boy to him. "Can't you
+find your way out of this pond?" "No, God bless you, my worthy master,
+or miss," said the man, "for such I take you to be by your voice. I
+have fallen into this pond, and know not how to get out again, as I am
+quite blind, and I am almost afraid to move for fear of being
+drowned." "Well," said the little boy, "though I shall be wetted to
+the skin, if you will throw me your stick, I will try to help you out
+of it."
+
+The blind man then threw the stick on to that side on which he heard
+the voice; the little boy caught it, and went into the water, feeling
+very carefully before him, lest he should unguardedly go beyond his
+depth. At length he reached the blind man, took him very carefully by
+the hand, and led him out. The blind man then gave him a thousand
+blessings, and told him he could grope his way home, and the little
+boy ran on as hard as he could to prevent being benighted.
+
+But he had not proceeded far when he saw a poor sailor, that had lost
+both his legs in an engagement by sea, hopping along upon crutches.
+
+"God bless you, my little master!" said the sailor. "I have fought
+many a battle with the French to defend poor old England, but now I am
+crippled, as you see, and have neither victuals nor money, although I
+am almost famished." The little boy could not resist his inclination
+to relieve him, so he gave him all his remaining victuals, and said:
+"God help you, poor man! This is all I have, otherwise you should have
+more."
+
+He then ran along, and presently arrived at the town he was going to,
+did his business, and returned towards his own home with all the
+expedition he was able.
+
+But he had not gone much more than half-way before the night shut in
+extremely dark, without either moon or stars to light him. The poor
+little boy did all he could to find his way, but unfortunately missed
+it in turning down a lane which brought him into a wood, where he
+wandered about a great while without being able to find any path to
+lead him out.
+
+Tired out at last and hungry, he felt himself so feeble that he could
+go no further, but sat himself down upon the ground, crying most
+bitterly. In this situation he remained for some time, till at last
+the little dog, who had never forsaken him, came up to him, wagging
+his tail, and holding something in his mouth. The little, boy took it
+from him, and saw it was a handkerchief nicely pinned together, which
+someone had dropped and the dog had picked up; and upon opening it he
+found several slices of bread and meat, which the little boy ate with
+great satisfaction, and felt himself extremely refreshed with his
+meal. "So," said the little boy, "I see that if I have given you a
+breakfast you have given me a supper, and a good turn is never lost,
+not even to a dog."
+
+He then once more attempted to escape from the woods, but it was to no
+purpose; he only scratched his legs with the briars, and slipped down
+in the dirt, without being able to find his way out. He was just going
+to give up all further attempts in despair, when he happened to see a
+horse feeding before him, and going up to him saw, by the light of the
+moon which just then began to shine a little, that it was the very
+same horse he had fed in the morning. "Perhaps," said the little boy,
+"this creature that I have been so good to will let me get upon his
+back, and he may bring me out of the wood, as he is accustomed to feed
+in this neighborhood."
+
+The little boy then went up to the horse, speaking to him and stroking
+him, and the horse let him mount his back without opposition, and then
+proceeded slowly through the wood, grazing as he went, till he brought
+him to an opening which led to the high road. The little boy was much
+rejoiced at this and said: "If I hadn't saved the creature's life in
+the morning I should have been obliged to have stayed here all the
+night. I see by this that a good deed is never lost."
+
+But the poor little boy had yet a greater danger to undergo, for as he
+was going along a solitary lane two men rushed out upon him, laid hold
+of him, and were going to strip him of his clothes; but just as they
+were beginning to do it the little dog bit the leg of one of the men
+with so much violence that he left the little boy and pursued the dog,
+which ran howling and barking away. In this instant a voice was heard
+that cried out: "There are the rascals! Let us knock them down!" which
+frightened the remaining man so much that he ran away, and his
+companion followed him.
+
+The little boy then looked up, and saw that it was the sailor whom he
+had relieved in the morning, carried upon the shoulders of the blind
+man whom he had helped out of the pond. "There, my little dear!" said
+the sailor. "God be thanked! we have come in time to do you a service
+in return for what you did us in the morning. As I lay under a hedge I
+heard these villains talk of robbing a little boy that from the
+description I concluded must be you; but I was so lame that I should
+not have been able to come time enough to help you if I had not met
+this honest blind man, who took me upon his back, while I showed him
+the way." The little boy thanked them very gratefully for thus
+defending him, and they went all together to his father's house, which
+was not far off, where they were all kindly entertained with a supper
+and bed.
+
+The little boy took care of his faithful dog as long as he lived, and
+never forgot the importance and necessity of doing good to others if
+we wish them to do the same to us.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ILL-NATURED LITTLE BOY
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was so unfortunate as to have a very
+bad man for his father, who was always surly and ill-tempered, and
+never gave his children either good instruction or good example. In
+consequence of this, this little boy, who might otherwise have been
+happier and better, became ill-natured and quarrelsome, and
+disagreeable to every one. He very often was severely beaten for his
+impertinence by boys that were bigger than himself, and sometimes by
+boys that were less; for though he was very abusive and quarrelsome,
+he did not much like fighting, and generally trusted more to his heels
+than his courage when he had engaged himself in a quarrel. This little
+boy had a cur dog that was the exact image of himself; he was the most
+troublesome, surly creature imaginable, always barking at the heels of
+every horse he came near, and worrying every sheep he could meet with,
+for which reason both the dog and the boy were disliked by all the
+neighborhood.
+
+One morning his father got up early to go to the ale-house, where he
+intended to stay till night, as it was a holiday; but before he went
+out he gave his son some bread and cold meat and sixpence, and told
+him he might go and divert himself as he would the whole day. The
+little boy was very much pleased with this liberty, and as it was a
+very fine morning he called his dog Tiger to follow him, and began his
+walk.
+
+He had not proceeded far before he met a boy that was driving a flock
+of sheep towards a gate that he wanted them to enter. "Pray, master,"
+said the little boy, "stand still, and keep your dog close to you, for
+fear you frighten my sheep." "Oh yes, to be sure," answered the
+ill-natured little boy. "I am to wait here all the morning till you
+and your sheep have passed, I suppose! Here, Tiger, seize them, boy"!
+Tiger at this sprang forth into the middle of the flock, barking and
+biting on every side, and the sheep, in a general consternation,
+hurried each a separate way.
+
+Tiger seemed to enjoy this sport equally with his master, but in the
+midst of his triumph he happened unguardedly to attack an old ram that
+had more courage than the rest of the flock. He, instead of running
+away, faced about and aimed a blow with his forehead at his enemy with
+so much force and dexterity that he knocked Tiger over and over,
+butting him several times while he was down, and obliged him to limp
+howling away.
+
+The ill-natured little boy, who was not capable of loving anything,
+had been very much diverted with the trepidation of the flock of
+sheep, but now he laughed heartily at the misfortune of his dog, and
+he would have laughed much longer had not the other little boy, his
+patience provoked at this treatment, thrown a stone at him, which hit
+him full upon the temples and almost knocked him down. He immediately
+began to cry in concert with his dog, when, perceiving a man coming
+towards them, whom he fancied might be the owner of the sheep, he
+thought it most prudent to escape as speedily as possible.
+
+But he had scarcely recovered from the smart which the blow had
+occasioned when his former mischievous disposition returned, which he
+determined to gratify to the utmost. He had not gone far before he saw
+a little girl standing by a stile, with a large pot of milk at her
+feet. "Pray," said the little girl, "help me with this pot of milk. My
+mother sent me out to fetch it this morning, and I have brought it
+alone a mile on my head; but I am so tired that I have been obliged to
+stop at this stile to rest me, and if I don't return home presently we
+shall have no pudding to-day, and, besides, my mother will be very
+angry with me."
+
+"What," said the boy, "you are to have a pudding to-day, are you,
+miss?" "Yes," said the girl, "and a fine piece of roast beef, for
+there's Uncle Will, and Uncle John, and grandfather, and all my
+cousins, to dine with us, and we shall all be very merry in the
+evening, I can assure you; so pray help me up as speedily as
+possible." "That I will, miss," said the boy, taking up the jug, and
+pretending to fix it upon her head. Just as she had hold of it he gave
+it a little push, as if he had stumbled, and overturned it upon her.
+The little girl began to cry violently, but the mischievous boy ran
+away, laughing heartily, and saying: "Good-by, little miss! Give my
+humble service to your Uncle Will, and grandfather, and the dear
+little cousins."
+
+This prank encouraged him very much indeed, for he then felt that now
+he had certainly escaped without any bad consequences; so he went on
+applauding his own ingenuity, and came to a farm where several little
+boys were at play. He desired leave to play with them, which they
+allowed him to do. But he could not be contented long without exerting
+his evil disposition, so taking an opportunity when it was his turn to
+fling the ball, instead of flinging it the way he ought to have done,
+he threw it into a muddy ditch. The little boys ran in a great hurry
+to see what was become of it, and as they were standing all together
+upon the brink he gave the outermost boy a violent push against his
+neighbor; he, not being able to resist the violence, tumbled against
+the next, that against the next, and that next against another, by
+which means they all soused into the ditch together.
+
+They soon scrambled out, although in a dirty plight, and were going to
+have punished him for all his ill behavior; but he patted Tiger upon
+the back, who began snarling and growling in such a manner as made
+them desist. Thus this little mischievous boy escaped a second time
+with impunity.
+
+The next thing he met with was a poor jackass feeding very quietly in
+a ditch. The little boy, seeing that nobody was within sight, thought
+this was an opportunity of plaguing an animal that was not to be lost,
+so he went and cut a large branch of thorns, which he contrived to fix
+to the poor beast's tail, and then, setting Tiger at him, he was
+extremely diverted to see the fright and agony the creature was in.
+But it did not fare so well with Tiger, who while he was baying and
+biting the animal's heels receive so severe a kick upon his head as
+laid him dead upon the spot.
+
+The boy, who had no affection for his dog, left him with the greatest
+unconcern when he saw what had happened, and, finding himself hungry,
+sat down by the wayside to eat his dinner. He had not long been there
+before a poor blind man came groping his way out with a couple of
+sticks. "Good morning to you," said the boy. "Pray did you see a
+little girl come this road with a basket of eggs upon her head,
+dressed in a green gown, with a straw hat upon her head?" "God bless
+you, master!" said the beggar, "I am so blind I can see nothing,
+either in heaven above or in the earth below. I have been blind these
+twenty years, and they call me 'poor old blind Richard.'"
+
+Though the poor old man was such an object of charity and compassion,
+yet the little boy determined, as usual, to play him some trick, and
+as he was a great liar and deceiver, he spoke to him thus: "Poor old
+Richard, I am heartily sorry for you with all my heart. I am just
+eating my breakfast, and if you will sit down by me I will give you
+part, and feed you myself." "Thank you with all my heart!" said the
+poor man; "and if you will give me your hand I will sit by you with
+great pleasure, my dear good little master."
+
+The little boy then gave him his hand, and, pretending to direct him,
+guided him to sit down in a large heap of wet mud that lay by the
+roadside. "There," said he, "now you are nicely seated I am going to
+feed you." So, taking a little of the dirt in his fingers, he was
+going to put it into the blind man's mouth; but the man, who now
+perceived the trick that had been played him, made a sudden snap at
+his fingers, and getting them between his teeth bit them so severely
+that the wicked boy roared out for mercy, and promised never more to
+be guilty of such wickedness. At last the blind man, after he had put
+him to very severe pain, consented to let him go, saying as he went:
+"Are you not ashamed, you little scoundrel, to attempt to do hurt to
+those who have never injured you, and to want to add to the suffering
+of those who already are sufficiently miserable? Although you escape
+now, be assured, sir, that if you do not repent and mend your manners,
+you will meet with a severe punishment for your bad behavior."
+
+One would think that this punishment would have cured him entirely of
+this mischievous disposition, but, unfortunately nothing is so
+difficult to overcome as bad habits that have been long indulged. He
+had not gone far before he saw a lame beggar that had just made a
+shift to support himself by the means of a couple of sticks. The
+beggar asked him to give him something, and the mischievous little
+boy, pulling out his sixpence, threw it down before him, as if he
+intended to make him a present of it; but while the poor man was
+stooping with difficulty to pick it up, the wicked little boy knocked
+the stick away, by which means the beggar fell down upon his face; and
+then snatching up the sixpence, the little boy ran away laughing very
+heartily at the accident.
+
+This was the last trick this ungrateful boy had it in his power to
+play, for seeing two men come up to the beggar and enter into
+discourse with him, he was afraid of being pursued, and therefore ran
+as fast as he was able over several fields. At last he came into a
+lane which led to a farmer's orchard, and as he was preparing to
+clamber over the fence a large dog seized him by the leg and held him
+fast. He cried out in an agony of terror, which brought the farmer
+out, who called the dog off, but seized the boy very roughly, saying:
+"So, sir, you are caught at last, are you? You thought you might come
+day after day and steal my apples without detection; but it seems you
+are mistaken, and now you shall receive the punishment you have so
+long deserved." The farmer then began to chastise him very severely
+with a whip he had in his hand, and the boy in vain protested he was
+innocent, and begged for mercy. At last the farmer asked him who he
+was and where he lived; but when he heard his name, he cried out:
+"What! are you the little rascal that frightened my sheep this
+morning, by which means several of them are lost? and do you think to
+escape?" Saying this he lashed him more severely than before, in spite
+of all his cries and protestations. At length, thinking he had
+punished him enough, he turned him out of the orchard, bade him go
+home, and frighten sheep again if he liked the consequences.
+
+The little boy slunk away crying very bitterly, for he had been very
+severely beaten, and now began to find out that no one can long hurt
+others with impunity; so he determined to go away quietly home, and
+behave better for the future.
+
+But his sufferings were not yet at an end, for as he jumped down from
+a stile he felt himself very roughly seized, and, looking up, found
+that he was in the power of the lame beggar whom he had thrown upon
+his face. It was in vain that he now cried, entreated, and begged for
+pardon; the man, who had been much hurt by his fall, thrashed him very
+severely with his stick before he would part with him.
+
+He now again went on crying and roaring with pain, but at least
+expected to escape without any further damage. But here he was
+mistaken, for as he was walking slowly through a lane, just as he
+turned a corner he found himself in the middle of the very troop of
+boys that he had used so ill in the morning. They all set up a shout
+as soon as they saw him, their enemy, in their power, without his dog,
+and began persecuting him in a thousand various ways. Some pulled him
+by the hair, others pinched him, some whipped his legs with their
+handkerchiefs, while others covered him with handfuls of dirt. In vain
+did he attempt to escape; they were still at his heels, and,
+surrounding him on every side, continued their persecutions.
+
+At length, while he was in this disagreeable situation, he happened to
+come up to the same jackass he had seen in the morning, and, making a
+sudden spring, jumped upon his back, hoping by this means to escape.
+The boys immediately renewed their shouts, and the ass, who was
+frightened at the noise, began galloping with all his might, and
+presently bore him from the reach of his enemies.
+
+But he had little reason to rejoice at this escape, for he found it
+impossible to stop the animal, and was every instant afraid of being
+thrown off and dashed upon the ground. After he had been thus hurried
+along a considerable time the ass on a sudden stopped short at the
+door of a cottage, and began kicking and prancing with so much fury
+that the little boy was presently thrown to the ground, and broke his
+leg in the fall.
+
+His cries immediately brought the family out, among whom was the very
+little girl he had used so ill in the morning. But she, with the
+greatest good nature, seeing him in such a pitiable situation,
+assisted in bringing him in and laying him upon the bed. There this
+unfortunate boy had leisure to recollect himself and reflect upon his
+own bad behavior, which in one day's time had exposed him to such a
+variety of misfortunes; and he determined with great sincerity that if
+ever he recovered from his present accident he would be as careful to
+take every opportunity of doing good as he had before been to commit
+every species of mischief.
+
+
+
+
+THE PURPLE JAR
+
+By MARIA EDGEWORTH
+
+
+Rosamond, a little girl about seven years old, was walking with her
+mother in the streets of London. As she passed along she looked in at
+the windows of several shops, and saw a great variety of different
+sorts of things, of which she did not know the use, or even the names.
+She wished to stop to look at them, but there was a great number of
+people in the streets, and a great many carts, carriages, and
+wheelbarrows, and she was afraid to let go her mother's hand.
+
+"Oh, mother, how happy I should be," she said, as she passed a
+toy-shop, "if I had all these pretty things!"
+
+"What, all! Do you wish for them all, Rosamond?"
+
+"Yes, mamma, all."
+
+As she spoke they came to a milliner's shop, the windows of which were
+decorated with ribbons and lace, and festoons of artificial flowers.
+
+"Oh, mamma, what beautiful roses! Won't you buy some of them?"
+
+"No, my dear."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I don't want them, my dear."
+
+They went a little farther, and came to another shop, which caught
+Rosamond's eye. It was a jeweler's shop, and in it were a great many
+pretty baubles, ranged in drawers behind glass.
+
+"Mamma, will you buy some of these?"
+
+"Which of them, Rosamond?"
+
+"Which? I don't know which; any of them will do, for they are all
+pretty."
+
+"Yes, they are all pretty; but of what use would they be to me?"
+
+"Use! Oh, I am sure you could find some use or other for them if you
+would only buy them first."
+
+"But I would rather find out the use first."
+
+"Well, then, mamma, there are buckles; you know that buckles are
+useful things, very useful things."
+
+"I have a pair of buckles; I don't want another pair," said her
+mother, and walked on.
+
+Rosamond was very sorry that her mother wanted nothing. Presently,
+however, they came to a shop, which appeared to her far more beautiful
+than the rest. It was a chemist's shop, but she did not know that.
+
+"Oh, mother, oh!" cried she, pulling her mother's hand, "look, look!
+blue, green, red, yellow, and purple! Oh, mamma, what beautiful
+things! Won't you buy some of these?"
+
+Still her mother answered, as before, "Of what use would they be to
+me, Rosamond?"
+
+"You might put flowers in them, mamma, and they would look so pretty
+on the chimney-piece. I wish I had one of them."
+
+"You have a flower-pot," said her mother, "and that is not a
+flower-pot."
+
+"But I could use it for a flower-pot, mamma, you know."
+
+"Perhaps if you were to see it nearer, if you were to examine it you
+might be disappointed."
+
+"No, indeed, I'm sure I should not; I should like it exceedingly."
+
+Rosamond kept her head turned to look at the purple vase, till she
+could see it no longer.
+
+"Then, mother," said she, after a pause, "perhaps you have no money."
+
+"Yes, I have."
+
+"Dear me, if I had money I would buy roses, and boxes, and buckles,
+and purple flower-pots, and everything." Rosamond was obliged to pause
+in the midst of her speech.
+
+"Oh, mamma, would you stop a minute for me? I have got a stone in my
+shoe; it hurts me very much."
+
+"How came there to be a stone in your shoe?"
+
+"Because of this great hole, mamma,--it comes in there; my shoes are
+quite worn out. I wish you would be so very good as to give me another
+pair."
+
+"Nay, Rosamond, but I have not money enough to buy shoes, and
+flower-pots, and buckles, and boxes, and everything."
+
+Rosamond thought that was a great pity. But now her foot, which had
+been hurt by the stone, began to give her so much pain that she was
+obliged to hop every other step, and she could think of nothing else.
+They came to a shoemaker's shop soon afterwards.
+
+"There, there! mamma, there are shoes; there are little shoes that
+would just fit me, and you know shoes would be really of use to me."
+
+"Yes, so they would, Rosamond. Come in."
+
+She followed her mother into the shop.
+
+Mr. Sole the shoemaker, had a great many customers, and his shop was
+full, so they were obliged to wait.
+
+"Well, Rosamond," said her mother, "you don't think this shop so
+pretty as the rest?"
+
+"No, not nearly; it is black and dark, and there are nothing but shoes
+all round; and, besides, there's a very disagreeable smell."
+
+"That smell is the smell of new leather."
+
+"Is it? Oh!" said Rosamond, looking round, "there is a pair of little
+shoes; they'll just fit me, I'm sure."
+
+"Perhaps they might; but you cannot be sure till you have tried them
+on, any more than you can be quite sure that you should like the
+purple vase exceedingly, till you have examined it more attentively."
+
+"Why, I don't know about the shoes, certainly, till I have tried; but,
+mamma, I am quite sure that I should like the flower-pot."
+
+"Well, which would you rather have, a jar or a pair of shoes? I will
+buy either for you."
+
+"Dear mamma, thank you--but if you could buy both?"
+
+"No, not both."
+
+"Then the jar, if you please."
+
+"But I should tell you, that in that case I shall not give you another
+pair of shoes this month."
+
+"This month! that's a very long time, indeed! You can't think how
+these hurt me; I believe I'd better have the new shoes. Yet, that
+purple flower-pot. Oh, indeed, mamma, these shoes are not so very,
+very bad! I think I might wear them a little longer, and the month
+will soon be over. I can make them last till the end of the month,
+can't I? Don't you think so, mamma?"
+
+"Nay, my dear, I want you to think for yourself; you will have time
+enough to consider the matter, while I speak to Mr. Sole about my
+clogs."
+
+Mr. Sole was by this time at leisure, and while her mother was
+speaking to him, Rosamond stood in profound meditation, with one shoe
+on, and the other in her hand.
+
+"Well, my dear, have you decided?"
+
+"Mamma!--yes,--I believe I have. If you please, I should like to have
+the flower-pot; that is, if you won't think me very silly, mamma."
+
+"Why, as to that, I can't promise you, Rosamond; but when you have to
+judge for yourself you should choose what would make you happy, and
+then it would not signify who thought you silly."
+
+"Then, mamma, if that's all, I'm sure the flower-pot would make me
+happy," said she, putting on her old shoe again; "so I choose the
+flower-pot."
+
+"Very well, you shall have it; clasp your shoe and come home."
+
+Rosamond clasped her shoe and ran after her mother. It was not long
+before the shoe came down at the heel, and many times she was obliged
+to stop to take the stones out of it, and she often limped with pain;
+but still the thoughts of the purple flower-pot prevailed, and she
+persisted in her choice.
+
+When they came to the shop with the large window, Rosamond felt much
+pleasure upon hearing her mother desire the servant, who was with
+them, to buy the purple jar, and bring it home. He had other
+commissions, so he did not return with them. Rosamond, as soon as she
+got in, ran to gather all her own flowers, which she kept in a corner
+of her mother's garden.
+
+"I am afraid they'll be dead before the flower-pot comes, Rosamond,"
+said her mother to her, as she came in with the flowers in her lap.
+
+"No, indeed, mamma, it will come home very soon, I dare say. I shall
+be very happy putting them into the purple flower-pot."
+
+"I hope so, my dear."
+
+The servant was much longer returning home than Rosamond had expected;
+but at length he came, and brought with him the long-wished-for jar.
+The moment it was set down upon the table, Rosamond ran up to it with
+an exclamation of joy: "I may have it now, mamma?"
+
+"Yes, my dear, it is yours."
+
+Rosamond poured the flowers from her lap upon the carpet, and seized
+the purple flower-pot.
+
+"Oh, dear, mother!" cried she, as soon as she had taken off the top,
+"but there's something dark in it which smells very disagreeably. What
+is it? I didn't want this black stuff."
+
+"Nor I, my dear."
+
+"But what shall I do with it, mamma?"
+
+"That I cannot tell."
+
+"It will be of no use to me, mamma."
+
+"That I cannot help."
+
+"But I must pour it out, and fill the flower-pot with water."
+
+"As you please, my dear."
+
+"Will you lend me a bowl to pour it into, mamma?"
+
+"That was more than I promised you, my dear; but I will lend you a
+bowl."
+
+The bowl was produced, and Rosamond proceeded to empty the purple
+vase. But she experienced much surprise and disappointment, on
+finding, when it was entirely empty, that it was no longer a purple
+vase. It was a plain white glass jar, which had appeared to have that
+beautiful color merely from the liquor with which it had been filled.
+
+Little Rosamond burst into tears.
+
+"Why should you cry, my dear?" said her mother; "it will be of as much
+use to you now as ever, for a flower-pot."
+
+"But it won't look so pretty on the chimney-piece. I am sure, if I
+had known that it was not really purple, I should not have wished to
+have it so much."
+
+"But didn't I tell you that you had not examined it; and that perhaps
+you would be disappointed?"
+
+"And so I am disappointed, indeed. I wish I had believed you at once.
+Now I had much rather have the shoes, for I shall not be able to walk
+all this month; even walking home that little way hurt me exceedingly.
+Mamma, I will give you the flower-pot back again, and that purple
+stuff and all, if you'll only give me the shoes."
+
+"No, Rosamond; you must abide by your own choice; and now the best
+thing you can possibly do is to bear your disappointment with good
+humor."
+
+"I will bear it as well as I can," said Rosamond, wiping her eyes; and
+she began slowly and sorrowfully to fill the vase with flowers.
+
+But Rosamond's disappointment did not end here. Many were the
+difficulties and distresses into which her imprudent choice brought
+her, before the end of the month.
+
+Every day her shoes grew worse and worse, till as last she could
+neither run, dance, jump, nor walk in them.
+
+Whenever Rosamond was called to see anything, she was detained pulling
+her shoes up at the heels, and was sure to be too late.
+
+Whenever her mother was going out to walk, she could not take Rosamond
+with her, for Rosamond had no soles to her shoes; and at length, on
+the very last day of the month, it happened that her father proposed
+to take her with her brother to a glass-house, which she had long
+wished to see. She was very happy; but, when she was quite ready, had
+her hat and gloves on, and was making haste downstairs to her brother
+and father, who were waiting for her at the hall door, the shoe
+dropped off. She put it on again in a great hurry, but, as she was
+going across the hall, her father turned round.
+
+"Why are you walking slipshod? no one must walk slipshod with me. Why,
+Rosamond," said he, looking at her shoes with disgust, "I thought that
+you were always neat; no, I cannot take you with me."
+
+Rosamond colored and retired.
+
+"Oh, mamma," said she as she took off her hat, "how I wish that I had
+chosen the shoes! They would have been of so much more use to me than
+that jar: however, I am sure, no, not quite sure, but I hope I shall
+be wiser another time."
+
+
+
+
+THE THREE CAKES
+
+By ARMAND BERQUIN
+
+
+"There was a little boy named Henry," said Mr Glassington "about your
+age. His parents had but lately fixed him at a boarding-school.
+
+"He was a special boy, forever at his book, and happened once to get
+the highest place at exercises. His mother was told it. She could
+nohow keep from dreaming of the pleasure; and when morning came, she
+got up early, went to speak with the cook and said as follows:
+
+"'Cook, you are to make a cake for Henry, who yesterday was very good
+at school.'
+
+"'With all my heart,' replied the cook, and set immediately about it.
+It was as big as--let me see--as big as--as a hat when flapped. The
+cook had stuffed it with nice almonds, large pistachio nuts, and
+candied lemon-peel, and iced it over with a coat of sugar, so that it
+was very smooth and a perfect white. The cake no sooner was come home
+from baking than the cook put on her things, and carried it to school.
+
+"When Henry first saw it, he jumped up and down like any Merry Andrew.
+He was not so patient as to wait till they could let him have a knife,
+but fell upon it tooth and nail. He ate and ate till school began, and
+after school was over he ate again; at night, too, it was the same
+thing till bedtime--nay, a little fellow that Henry had for a playmate
+told me that he put the cake upon his bolster when he went to bed, and
+waked and waked a dozen times, that he might take a bit. I cannot so
+easily believe this last particular; but, then, it is very true, at
+least, that on the morrow, when the day was hardly broke, he set about
+his favorite business once again, continuing at it all the morning,
+and by noon had eaten it up. The dinner-bell now rung; but Henry, as
+one may fancy, had no stomach, and was vexed to see how heartily the
+other children ate. It was, however, worse than this at five o'clock,
+when school was over.
+
+"His companions asked him if he would not play at cricket, tan, or
+kits. Alas! he could not; so they played without him. In the meantime
+Henry could hardly stand upon his legs; he went and sat down in a
+corner very gloomily, while the children said one to another: 'What is
+the matter with poor Henry, who used to skip about and be so merry?
+See how pale and sorrowful he is!'
+
+"The master came himself, and, seeing him, was quite alarmed. It was
+all lost labor to interrogate him. Henry could not be brought to speak
+a single word.
+
+"By great good luck, a boy at length came forward in the secret; and
+his information was that Henry's mother had sent him a great cake the
+day before, which he had swallowed in an instant, as it were, and that
+his present sickness was occasioned only by his gluttony. On this, the
+master sent for an apothecary, who ordered him a quantity of physic,
+phial after phial. Henry, as one would fancy, found it very nauseous,
+but was forced to take the whole for fear of dying, which, had he
+omitted it, would certainly have been the case. When some few days of
+physic and strict regimen had passed, his health was re-established as
+before; but his mother protested that she would never let him have
+another cake."
+
+_Percival_. He did not merit so much as the smell of such a thing. But
+this is but one cake, father; and you informed me that there were
+three, if you remember, in your story.
+
+_Mr. G._ Patience! patience! Here is another cake in what I am now
+going to tell.
+
+"Henry's master had another scholar, whose name was Francis. He had
+written his mother a very pretty letter, and it had not so much as a
+blotted stroke; in recompense for which she sent him likewise a great
+cake, and Francis thus addressed himself: 'I will not, like that
+glutton Henry, eat up my cake at once, and so be sick as he was; no, I
+will make my pleasure last a great deal longer.' So he took the cake,
+which he could hardly lift by reason of its weight, and watched the
+opportunity of slipping up into his chamber with it, where his box
+was, and in which he put it under lock and key. At playtime every day
+he slipped away from his companions, went upstairs a-tiptoe, cut a
+tolerable slice off, swallowed it, put by the rest, and then came down
+and mixed again with his companions. He continued this clandestine
+business all the week, and even then the cake was hardly half
+consumed. But what ensued? At last the cake grew dry, and quickly
+after moldy; nay, the very maggots got into it, and by that means had
+their share; on which account it was not then worth eating, and our
+young curmudgeon was compelled to fling the rest away with great
+reluctance. However, no one grieved for him."
+
+_Percival_. No, indeed; nor I, father. What, keep a cake locked up
+seven days together, and not give one's friends a bit! That is
+monstrous! But let us have the other now.
+
+"There was another little gentleman who went to school with Henry and
+Francis likewise, and his name was Gratian. His mother sent him a cake
+one day, because she loved him, and, indeed, he loved her also very
+much. It was no sooner come than Gratian thus addressed his young
+companions: 'Come and look at what mother has sent me; you must every
+one eat with me.' They scarcely needed such a welcome piece of
+information twice, but all got round the cake, as you have doubtless
+seen the bees resorting to a flower just blown. As Gratian was
+provided with a knife, he cut a great piece off, and then divided it
+into as many shares as he had brought boys together by such a
+courteous invitation. Gratian then took up the rest, and told them
+that he would eat his piece next day; on which he put it up, and went
+to play with his companions, who were all solicitous to have him
+choose whatever game he thought might entertain him most.
+
+"A quarter of an hour had scarcely passed as they were playing, when a
+poor old man, who had a fiddle, came into the yard.
+
+"He had a very long white beard, and, being blind, was guided by a
+little dog, who went before him with a collar round his neck. To this
+a cord was fastened, which the poor blind man held in his hand.
+
+"It was noticed with how much dexterity the little dog conducted him,
+and how he shook a bell, which, I forgot to say, hung underneath his
+collar, when he came near any one, as if he had designed to say by
+such an action, 'Do not throw down or run against my master.' Being
+come into the yard, he sat him down upon a stone, and, hearing several
+children talking round him, 'My dear little gentlemen,' said he, 'I
+will play you all the pretty tunes that I know, if you will give me
+leave.' The children wished for nothing half so much. He put his
+violin in tune, and then thrummed over several jigs and other scraps
+of music, which, it was easy to conjecture, had been new in former
+times.
+
+"Little Gratian saw that while he played his merriest airs, a tear
+would now and then roll down his cheeks, on which he stopped to ask
+him why he wept?
+
+"'Because,' said the musician, 'I am very hungry. I have no one in the
+world that will give my dog or me a bit of of anything to eat. I wish
+I could but work, and get for both of us a morsel of something; but I
+have lost my strength and sight. Alas! I labored hard till I was old,
+and now I want bread.'
+
+"The generous Gratian, hearing this, wept too. He did not say a word,
+but ran to fetch the cake which he had designed to eat himself. He
+brought it out with joy, and, as he ran along, began: 'Here, good old
+man, here is some cake for you.'
+
+"'Where?' replied the poor musician, feeling with his hands; 'where is
+it? For I am blind, and cannot see you.'
+
+"Gratian put the cake into his hand, when, laying down his fiddle on
+the ground, he wiped his eyes, and then began to eat. At every piece
+he put into his mouth, he gave his faithful little dog a bit, who came
+and ate out of his hand; and Gratian, standing by him, smiled with
+pleasure at the thought of having fed the poor old man when he was
+hungry."
+
+_Percival_. Oh, the good, good Gratian! Let me have your knife,
+father.
+
+_Mr. G._ Here, Percival; but why my knife?
+
+_Percival_. I will tell you. I have only nibbled here a little of my
+cake, so pleased I was in listening to you! So I will cut it smooth.
+There, see how well I have ordered it! These scraps, together with the
+currants, will be more than I shall want for breakfast; and the first
+poor man that I meet going home shall have the rest, even though he
+should not play upon the violin.
+
+
+
+
+AMENDMENT
+
+
+Charles Grant lived in a good house, and wore fine clothes, and had a
+great many pretty toys to play with; yet Charles was seldom happy or
+pleased; for he was never good. He did not mind what his mother said
+to him, and would not learn to read, though he was now seven years
+old.
+
+He called the servants names, pinched and beat his little sister
+Clara, and took away her playthings, and was not kind and good to her,
+as a brother should be. "Oh, what a sad boy Charles is!" was his
+mother's daily bitter exclamation.
+
+His father was a proud, bad man, who let Charles have his own way,
+because he was his only son, and he thought him handsome. But how
+could anyone be handsome that was so naughty? I am sure that when he
+was froward, and put out his lip, and frowned, he looked quite ugly.
+Mother told him so, and said that no one was pretty that was not good;
+but Charles did not mind his mother, and was so vain he would stand
+before the looking-glass half the day, instead of learning his
+lessons; and was so silly he would say, "What a pretty little boy I
+am! I am glad I am not a shabby boy, like Giles Bloomfield, our
+cowboy." At such times his mother would say to him: "I wish, Charles,
+you were only half as good as Giles; he is not much older than you,
+yet he can read in the Bible quite well; he works hard for his poor
+mother, and never vexes her, as you do me; and when he comes home of
+an evening, he nurses the baby, and is kind to all his sisters. I dare
+say he never pinched nor beat any of them in his life."
+
+"Oh!" said that wicked Charles, "I hate him for all that, for he wears
+ragged clothes, and has no toys to play with."
+
+"Oh fie, Charles!" said his mother; "you are a wicked boy: have not I
+often told you that God made the poor as well as the rich, and He will
+hate those who despise them? Now, Charles, if God, to punish you for
+your pride, were to take away your father and me, and you had no money
+to buy food, and your clothes became old and ragged, you would then
+be a poor, shabby boy, and worse off than Giles; for you could not
+earn your own living, as he does; and you would consequently be
+starved to death if God did not take care of you. And if, while you
+were rich, you hated the poor, how could you expect God to care for
+you when you grew poor, like those you had scorned?"
+
+But Charles, however, was so naughty he would not stay to hear what
+his mother said, but ran away into the fields.
+
+Then Charles's mother was so vexed that she could not help crying at
+his being such a wicked, proud boy; and she could not sleep all that
+night for the grief his conduct had occasioned her. The next day she
+was forced to take a long journey to visit a friend who was very ill,
+and who lived in London. She was very sorry to leave her children, for
+she knew if Charles behaved naughty when she was with him, he would be
+a sad boy indeed when he was left to himself, and had none to correct
+him and tell him of his faults.
+
+When the carriage that was to take Mrs. Grant to London drove to the
+door, she kissed her children a great many times, and begged that they
+would be very good while she was away from them.
+
+"You, my dear Clara, I know, will mind what nurse says to you, and
+will try to be good while I am gone; for you know that God will see
+everything you do amiss, if I do not; and I hope you will never forget
+to say your prayers to Him night and morning."
+
+Clara kissed her dear mother, and promised that she would attend to
+all she said; and her mother was satisfied, for she knew that Clara
+never told stories, though she was but a little girl.
+
+Then Mrs. Grant turned to Charles, and said: "As for you, Charles, I
+cannot help feeling great pain at leaving you; for you are such a bad,
+wilful boy that I shall not have a happy moment while I am away from
+you, lest you should do anything amiss. But if you love me, you will
+try to be good; and whenever you are about to do anything wrong, say
+to yourself, 'How much this would grieve my poor mother if she knew
+it! and how much it will offend God, who does see, and knows, not
+only everything I do, but even my most secret thoughts! And He will
+one day bring me to an account for all I do or say against His holy
+will and my kind parents' commands.'"
+
+Charles, who knew he was a bad boy, hung down his head, for he did not
+like to be told of his faults.
+
+Then his mother said: "My dear Charles, do try and be good, and I will
+love you dearly."
+
+"But what will you bring me from London," said Charles, "if I am a
+good boy? for I never will behave well for nothing."
+
+"Do you call the love of God and of dear mother nothing?" said Clara;
+"I will behave well, even if mother forgets to bring me the great wax
+doll, and the chest of drawers to keep her clothes in, which she told
+me about yesterday."
+
+Mrs. Grant smiled fondly on her little girl, but made no reply to
+Charles; and soon the coach drove away from the door.
+
+Charles was very glad when his mother was gone, and he said: "Now
+mother is gone to London, I will do just as I please: I will learn no
+ugly lessons, but play all day long. How happy I shall be! I hope
+mother may not come for a whole month."
+
+But Charles soon found he was not so happy as he thought he should
+have been; he did not know the reason, but I will tell you why he was
+not happy. No one can be happy who is not good, and Charles was so
+naughty as to resolve not to obey his kind mother, who loved him so
+much.
+
+Charles brought out all his toys to play with, but he soon grew weary
+of them, and he kicked them under the table, saying, "Nasty dull toys,
+I hate you, for you do not amuse me or make me happy. I will go to
+father, and ask him to give me something to please me that I am not
+used to."
+
+But father was busy with some friends in the study, and could not
+attend to his wants. Charles was a rude, tiresome boy; so he stood by
+his father, and shook his chair, and pulled his sleeve, and teased him
+so much that his father at last grew angry, and turned him out of the
+room.
+
+Then Charles stood and kicked at the door, and screamed with all his
+might, when one of the gentlemen said to him: "If you were my little
+boy, I would give you something to cry for." So Charles's father told
+him if he did not go away, he would come out of the study and whip
+him.
+
+When Charles heard this, he ran away, for he was afraid of being
+beaten; but, instead of playing quietly with his toys, he went and
+laid under the great table in the hall and sulked and fretted till
+dinner-time.
+
+When nurse came to call him to dinner, he said: "I won't come; Go
+away, ugly nurse!"
+
+Then said nurse: "Master Charles, if you like to punish yourself by
+going without your dinner, no one will prevent you, I am sure."
+
+Then Charles began to cry aloud, and tried to tear nurse's apron; but
+nurse told him he was a bad boy, and left him.
+
+Now, when Clara sat down to dinner, she said to nurse: "Where is
+brother Charles? Why is he not here?"
+
+"Miss Clara, he is a naughty child," said nurse, "and chooses to go
+without his dinner, thinking to vex us; but he hurts no one but
+himself with his perverse temper."
+
+"Then," said Clara, "I do not like to dine while Charles goes without;
+so I will try and persuade him to come and eat some pie."
+
+"Well, Miss Clara," said nurse, "you may go, if you please; but I
+would leave the bad boy to himself."
+
+When Clara came to Charles, and asked him if he would come and eat his
+dinner, he poked out his head, and made such an ugly face that she was
+quite frightened at him, and ran away.
+
+Nurse did not take the trouble of calling him to tea; and, though he
+was very hungry, he was too sulky to come without being asked; so he
+lay under the table, and cried aloud till bedtime. But when it grew
+dark, he was afraid to stay by himself, for bad children are always
+fearful; so he came upstairs and said in a cross, rude tone of voice:
+"Nurse, give me something to eat."
+
+Nurse said: "Master Charles, if you had been good, you would have had
+some chicken and some apple-pie for your dinner, and bread and butter
+and cake for your tea; but as you were such a bad boy, and would not
+come to your meals, I shall only give you a piece of dry bread and a
+cup of milk, and you do not deserve even that."
+
+Then Charles made one of his very worst faces, and threw the bread on
+the ground, and spilt the milk.
+
+Nurse told him that there were many poor children in the world who
+would be glad of the smallest morsel of what he so much despised, and
+that the time would come when he might want the very worst bit of it;
+and she bade him kneel down and say his prayers, and ask God to
+forgive him for having been such a wicked boy all day.
+
+But Charles did not mind what she said, and went crying to bed. Thus
+ended the first day of Charles Grant's happiness.
+
+He awoke very early the next morning, and told nurse to get him his
+breakfast, for he was very hungry. But nurse said he must wait till
+eight o'clock, which was the breakfast hour.
+
+He now found it was of no use sulking, as no one seemed to care for
+his tempers; so he looked about for something to eat, but found
+nothing but the piece of bread he had thrown on the ground the night
+before; and he was glad to eat that, and only wished there had been
+more of it.
+
+As soon as breakfast was over, Clara brought her books, and began to
+learn her lessons, and nurse asked Charles if he would do the same.
+But Charles said, "No, indeed! I do not mean to learn any lessons
+while mother is away, for I mean to please myself and be happy."
+
+"You did as you pleased yesterday, Master Charles," said nurse; "yet I
+do not think you were so very happy, unless happiness consists in
+lying under a table and crying all day, and going without dinner and
+tea, merely to indulge a sullen, froward temper."
+
+Now, Charles hated to be told of his faults, so he left nurse, and
+went into the garden to try and amuse himself. When there, instead of
+keeping in the walks, as he ought to have done, he ran on the beds,
+trampled down the flowers, and pulled the blossoms from the
+fruit-trees.
+
+The gardener's boy earnestly requested Charles not to do so much
+mischief; but Charles told him he was a gentleman's son, and would do
+as he pleased. So he again ran over the new-raked borders, and pulled
+up the flowers; and the poor boy was sadly vexed to see his nice work
+all spoiled.
+
+Charles did not care for that, and would have behaved still worse, had
+not the gardener, who then came up, taken him in his arms, and carried
+him into the house, in spite of his kicking and screaming. He cried
+for a long time, and made a sad noise; but, finding that no one paid
+any regard to him, he became quiet, and went into the nursery, and
+asked Clara to come and play with him.
+
+"I cannot come just now, brother Charles," said she; "for I want to
+finish this frock that I am making for Giles Bloomfield's little
+sister."
+
+"I am sure," said Charles, "if I were you, I would much rather play
+than sit still and sew."
+
+"Not if you knew what pleasure there is in doing good," said Clara;
+"but if you will wait till I have finished it, you shall go with me
+and give it to the poor woman, and then you will see how pleased she
+will be, and how nicely the baby will look when she is dressed in this
+pretty frock, instead of her old faded, ragged one."
+
+Charles did not know how to amuse himself, so he sat down on his
+little stool, and watched his sister while she worked.
+
+When Clara had finished making the frock, she said: "Thank you, dear
+nurse, for cutting out and fixing the frock for me." So she threw her
+arms round nurse's neck, and kissed her cheek; and nurse put on
+Clara's tippet and her new bonnet, and walked with Charles and her to
+Dame Bloomfield's cottage.
+
+The good woman took the baby out of the cradle, and laid it on Clara's
+lap, and Clara had the pleasure of dressing it herself in the nice new
+frock; and the baby looked so neat and pretty, and the poor mother was
+so pleased, that Clara was much happier than if she had spent her time
+in playing or working for her doll.
+
+While Clara was nursing and caressing the baby, Charles went into the
+little garden, where he found Giles Bloomfield, who had just returned
+from working in the fields, with a beautiful milk-white rabbit in his
+arms, which he had taken out of the hutch, and was nursing with much
+affection.
+
+"Oh, what a pretty rabbit!" said Charles. "Giles, will you sell it to
+me?"
+
+"No, Master Charles," said Giles, "I cannot sell my pretty Snowball."
+
+"And why not?" asked Charles in a fretful tone.
+
+"Because, Master Charles, the old doe, its mother, died when Snowball
+was only a week old, and I reared it by feeding it with warm milk and
+bran; and it is now so fond of me that I would not part with it for a
+great deal."
+
+So saying, he stroked his pretty favorite, who licked his hand all
+over, and rubbed her soft white head against his fingers.
+
+Then Giles said: "My dear Snowball, I would not sell you for the
+world."
+
+"But you shall sell Snowball to me," said Charles, making one of his
+ugly faces. "I will give you a shilling for her; and if you do not let
+me carry her home this very day, I will tell father of you, and he
+will turn you out of the cottage."
+
+When Giles's mother heard Charles say so, she came out of the house,
+and said: "Pray, Giles, let Master Charles have the rabbit."
+
+"Dear mother," said Giles, "Master Charles has a pony and a dog, and a
+great many fine toys to play with, and I have only my pretty Snowball;
+and it will break my heart to part with her."
+
+"Then," said his mother, "would you rather see your mother and sisters
+turned out of doors than part with your rabbit? You know, Giles, that
+I had so many expenses with your poor father's illness and death that
+I have not paid the rent due last quarter-day; and you know it is in
+our landlord's power to turn us into the streets to-morrow."
+
+"Well, mother," cried Giles, bursting into tears, "Master Charles must
+have the rabbit. But oh!" continued he, "he does not love you as I do,
+my pretty Snowball; he will not feed and take care of you as I have
+done, and you will soon die, and I shall never see you again." And his
+tears fell fast on the white head of his little pet as he spoke.
+
+Clara was quite grieved, and begged her naughty brother not to
+deprive poor Giles of his rabbit; but Charles was a wicked and
+covetous boy; he therefore took Snowball from Giles, and carried her
+home in his arms, and put her in a box. He went into the fields and
+gathered some green herbs for her to eat, and said: "I am glad I have
+got Snowball; now I shall be quite happy."
+
+But how could Charles be happy when he had broken God's holy
+commandment, which says, "Thou shalt not covet?" Nurse and Clara told
+him so, and begged him to give Snowball back again to Giles. But
+Charles said he would not, for he meant to keep her all his life; but
+the next morning, when he went into the stable to look at her, he
+found her stretched at the bottom of the box. He called her, but
+Snowball did not stir; he then took her out of the box to see what
+ailed her; but she was quite cold and dead.
+
+Oh dear! how Charles did cry! But it was of no use. He had better not
+have taken her away from Giles, for he did not know what to feed her
+with, and had given her among the greens he had gathered a herb called
+hemlock, which is poisonous and will kill whatever eats of it; and it
+had killed poor Snowball.
+
+The coachman told Charles so when he saw how swollen she was, and
+Charles cried the more. Giles cried too when he heard what a sad death
+poor Snowball had died; but he had been a good dutiful boy in parting
+with her when his mother wished it, though it had cost him much pain
+and many tears.
+
+Well, Charles's mother was gone a long time, more than a month, and it
+would quite shock you to be told how naughty Charles was all that
+time; at last a letter came to say she was very ill, and then another
+to tell them she was dead.
+
+What would Charles then have given if he had not grieved her so often
+with his perverse temper and wicked conduct? He now said when he saw
+her again, he would beg her to forgive him; but when Charles did see
+his poor mother again she was in her coffin and could not hear him;
+and he cried exceedingly, and wished he had been good. Clara, though
+she cried as much as Charles for her dear mother, was glad she had
+obeyed her, and been so good while she was away.
+
+"And I will always be as good as if dear mother could see me, and love
+me for it too," said she to nurse the day after her mother was buried.
+
+"My dear young lady," said nurse, "your mother _will_ see it, and love
+you for doing your duty."
+
+"How can dear mother see me? Her eyes are closed, and she is in the
+dark grave," said Clara.
+
+"But she will see you from heaven, Miss Clara, where she is gone to
+receive the reward of her good conduct in this world; for though her
+body is in the earth, her spirit is in heaven."
+
+"And shall I never see my own dear mother again?" said Clara.
+
+"Yes, Miss Clara; if you are good, you will go to heaven when you die,
+and become an angel like her."
+
+"Then," said Clara, "I will pray to God to make me good, and when I am
+going to do anything wrong I will say to myself, 'If I do this, I
+shall never go to heaven, and see my dear mother when I die.'"
+
+"I wish," said nurse, "that Master Charles was like you, and would try
+to be good."
+
+But though Charles was sometimes sorry for his bad behavior, he did
+not try to mend, because he thought it was too much trouble to be
+good, and said he did not care, because he was the son of a gentleman.
+
+Charles did not know that at this very time his father had spent all
+his money, and owed a great many debts to different people; and at
+last he ran away that he might not be put in prison; and the people to
+whom he owed so much money came and seized his fine house and gardens,
+and the coach, and all the furniture, and sold them by auction, to
+raise money to pay the debts; so Charles found that, instead of being
+rich, he was now very, very poor.
+
+When the auction was over and all the things were sold, and it was
+getting quite dark (for it was in the month of November), Clara and
+Charles stood in one of the empty parlors, and wondered what they
+should do for supper, and where they should sleep that night; for all
+the beds were sold, and they saw the servants go away one after
+another.
+
+At last nurse came in with her bonnet and cloak, and said: "Miss
+Clara, I am going away to my own cottage, and as you have always been
+a kind, good child, you shall go with me, and I will take care of
+you."
+
+Then Clara said, "Thank you; but will you not take Charles also?"
+
+"No," said nurse; "he has always been such a proud bad boy that I will
+not take him. I have very little to spare, for I am a poor woman, and
+what I have is not more than will keep my own children and you, Miss
+Clara."
+
+Saying this, she got into the cart, and took Clara on her lap, and one
+of the footmen got in after her, and drove away from the door.
+
+Charles stood on the step of the door, and looked after them till they
+were out of sight; and then he began to cry as if his heart would
+break. The servant of the gentleman who had purchased the house came
+and locked the door, so Charles could not get in any more, and he sat
+down on the stone steps, and covered his face with his hands, and
+cried bitterly.
+
+"Unhappy child that I am," sobbed he; "what will become of me? Oh, if
+I had but been good like Clara, I should have found a friend, as she
+has; but no one cares what becomes of me, because I have been so
+wicked. I used to despise the poor, and God, to punish me, has made me
+poor indeed."
+
+It was very cold, and the snow began to fall fast, and it grew quite
+dark. Charles rested his head on his knees, and was afraid to look
+round; his clothes were almost wet through, and his limbs were
+benumbed with cold; he had no place where he could ask shelter, for no
+one loved him; and he thought he should be obliged to stay there all
+night, and perhaps be frozen to death.
+
+Just then some one softly touched his hand, and said: "Master Charles,
+I have been looking for you for more than an hour."
+
+Charles looked up; but when he saw it was Giles Bloomfield who had
+come to seek him in his distress, he remembered how ill he had behaved
+to him, so he hid his face, and began to weep afresh.
+
+Then Giles sat down by him on the steps, and said: "Dear Master
+Charles, you must not stay here. See how fast it snows. You will catch
+your death of cold."
+
+"Yes, I am very cold and hungry," sobbed Charles, "but I have no home
+now; I have nowhere else to go, and must stay here all night."
+
+"No, Master Charles," said Giles, "you shall come home with me, and
+shall share my supper and my bed, though it is not such as you have
+been used to; notwithstanding we are very poor, we will do our best to
+make you comfortable."
+
+"Oh, Giles!" said Charles, throwing his arms round Giles's neck, "I do
+not deserve this kindness; I have been such a proud, wicked boy, and
+have treated you so ill. I am sure you can never forgive me for having
+taken your pretty Snowball; and if _you_ forgive me, I can never
+forgive myself."
+
+"Dear Master Charles, do not think of that now," said Giles, taking
+both Charles's cold hands in his. "Indeed, Master Charles, I should
+never dare say my prayers if I was so wicked as to bear malice; and,
+now you are in distress, I would do anything in my power to serve you.
+So pray come home with me, and warm yourself, and get some supper."
+
+But Charles hid his face on Giles's bosom, and cried the more; at last
+he said:
+
+"Giles, I am so ashamed of having behaved so cruelly to you, that I
+can never go to your home, and eat the food that you are obliged to
+labor so hard for."
+
+"Master Charles," said Giles, "that is because you are so proud."
+
+"Oh no, no!" sobbed Charles, "I am not proud now, and I think I shall
+never be proud again." So he kissed Giles, and they both went home to
+Dame Bloomfield's cottage together.
+
+When Giles's mother saw Charles, she said: "Why did you bring this
+proud, cross, young gentleman here, Giles?"
+
+Charles, when he heard her say so, thought he should be turned out
+again into the cold, and began to cry afresh; but Giles said:
+
+"Dear mother, Master Charles has no home to go to now; he is cold and
+hungry; I am sure you will let him stay here, and share my bed and my
+supper."
+
+"He can stay here if he likes," said Dame Bloomfield; "but you know,
+Giles, we are forced to work hard for what food we have, and I am sure
+we cannot afford to maintain Master Charles."
+
+"Then," said Giles, "he shall have my supper to-night: he wants it
+more than I do, for he has had no food all day."
+
+"You may please yourself about that, Giles: but remember, if you give
+your food to Master Charles, you must go without yourself."
+
+"Well," said Giles, "I shall feel more pleasure in giving my supper to
+Master Charles than in eating it myself."
+
+So he brought a stool, and, placing it in the warmest corner by the
+fire, made Charles sit down, and chafed his cold frozen hands, and
+tried to comfort him; for Charles was greatly afflicted when he saw
+that everyone hated him; but he knew that it was his own fault, and a
+just punishment for his pride and bad conduct.
+
+When Giles brought his basin of hot milk and bread for his supper, he
+could not thank him for crying; and he was ashamed to eat it while
+Giles went without; but he was so hungry, and the milk looked so nice,
+that he did not know how to refuse it; and Giles begged him so
+earnestly to eat that at last he did so, and once more felt warm and
+comfortable.
+
+Then Giles said to him: "Now, Master Charles, will you go to bed? Mine
+is but a coarse, hard bed, but it is very clean." So he took the lamp
+to show Charles the way to the chamber in which he was to sleep.
+
+Charles was surprised at seeing no staircase, but only a ladder. Giles
+laughed when he saw how Charles stared, and he said:
+
+"You have been used to live in a grand house, Master Charles, and know
+nothing of the shifts the poor are forced to make."
+
+Then Charles climbed up the ladder, and Giles showed him a little
+room, not much larger than a closet, with no furniture in it, but a
+stump bed without any hangings, and covered with a coarse, woolen
+rug. Charles Grant had never even seen such a bed before, but he was
+thankful that he could get any place to sleep in, out of the cold and
+snow.
+
+Giles helped Charles to undress, for Charles was so helpless he did
+not know how to undress himself. When he was going to step into bed,
+Giles exclaimed:
+
+"Will you not say your prayers before you go to bed, Master Charles?"
+
+Charles blushed and hung down his head, for he had been so naughty
+that he had not said his prayers for a long time past, and had almost
+forgotten what his dear mother had taught him; and he told Giles so at
+last.
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Giles, "I never dare go to bed without saying
+mine."
+
+Then Charles said: "I am sorry I have been so naughty as to forget my
+prayers; will you teach me yours, and I will never forget them again?"
+
+Then they both knelt down by the side of the little bed, and Giles
+taught Charles such prayers as he knew, and Charles went to bed much
+happier than he had been for a long time.
+
+Though the bed was hard, and the sheets brown and coarse, Charles was
+so weary that he soon fell asleep, and slept so soundly that he did
+not awake till it was broad day, and Giles was up and gone to work in
+the fields.
+
+When Charles looked round he thought he had never seen such a shabby
+room in his life. There was not so much as a chair or table or carpet
+in it; he could see all the thatch and the rafters in the roof, for
+the chamber was not even ceiled, but showed the thatch and rafters,
+and, as I said before, there was not a single article of furniture in
+the room, except the bed. How different from the pretty little chamber
+in which Charles used to sleep, with the nice white dimity
+window-curtains and hangings and mahogany tent-bed, with such
+comfortable bedding and handsome white counterpane! However, he now
+thought himself very fortunate that he had any roof to shelter him, or
+any bed, however homely it might be, on which he could sleep.
+
+He thought he should like to get up and go downstairs, but he had
+always been used to have a servant to dress him, and he did not know
+how to dress himself, so while he was considering what he should do
+Giles came into the chamber. He had returned to get his breakfast, and
+not seeing Charles downstairs he concluded the cause of his absence,
+and came to assist him to dress. Charles observed how this matter was
+arranged, and resolved to do it for himself the next morning.
+
+When he was dressed they both knelt down by the bedside and said their
+prayers, for though Giles had said his at the dawn of day, yet he
+never omitted an opportunity of repeating his thanksgivings and
+praises to his heavenly Father for the mercies and blessings which he
+enjoyed through His grace, for Giles possessed a grateful and
+contented heart, which made him look upon that state of life unto
+which it had pleased God to call him, as that which was meet and fit
+for him, so he worked hard, and ate the bread of labor with
+cheerfulness and satisfaction.
+
+When Charles and Giles joined the family below Dame Bloomfield set a
+porringer of milk and a piece of brown bread for every one but
+Charles, who looked ready to cry, but Giles put his porringer before
+him, and gave him another spoon, and said: "Master Charles, we will
+eat together, for there will be enough for both of us." The tears came
+into Charles's eyes, and he whispered: "Dear Giles, you are very
+good." So these boys ate out of the same porringer, and broke of the
+same bread.
+
+After breakfast Giles went out to work, and Charles thought it very
+dull till he returned to dinner. When Dame Bloomfield gave her
+children their dinners there was a dumpling for everyone but Charles;
+then Giles cut his dumpling in half, and gave one part to Charles, and
+ate the other half himself. Now this was very good of Giles, for he
+was very hungry himself, but he could not bear to see Charles sad and
+hungry while he was eating, and Giles liked to do good because he knew
+it was pleasing to God.
+
+As soon as dinner was over, Giles went out to work again, and Charles
+was as dull as he had been in the morning, for all the family were at
+work in some way or other, and could not spare time to amuse or talk
+to him, and he did nothing but sigh and fret to himself till evening,
+when Giles came home from work.
+
+Giles's eldest sister made a bright fire, and they all sat round it
+and talked and told stories, and Giles nursed the baby, and played
+with the other little ones, and seemed quite happy, and so he was, for
+he had done his duty, and every one loved him for being so good.
+
+After supper Giles taught those of his sisters who were old enough to
+read and write, and when they had finished learning their tasks
+Charles took up the book, and said: "Giles, will you teach me to
+read?" and Giles said: "Certainly, Master Charles, but I am sure you
+must know how to read a great deal better than such a poor boy as I
+am."
+
+"I might have done so," said Charles, "but Giles, I was a sad,
+naughty, perverse boy, and hated to learn any thing that was good; but
+I hope I know better now, and if you will only take the trouble of
+teaching me I will try and make up for my lost time."
+
+So Giles gave Charles a lesson that very night, and every evening
+after supper he heard him read and spell what he had learned during
+the day, and Charles took such pains that he soon began to read so
+well that he used to amuse himself by reading pretty stories, and by
+teaching little Betty, one of Giles's youngest sisters, to read.
+
+Still Charles used to be exceedingly hungry, for he had not more than
+half the quantity of food he was used to eat, and Giles was hungry
+too, and grew pale and thin.
+
+Then Charles said to himself: "It is not right for me to eat the bread
+which poor Giles works so hard to earn; I will try and get my own
+living, for why should I not do so, as well as Giles?" So one morning,
+when Giles rose, as usual, at five o'clock, Charles got up too. Then
+Giles said:
+
+"Why do you rise so early this cold morning, Master Charles?"
+
+"Because I am going out to work with you, Giles, if you will permit
+me," answered Charles.
+
+"Oh, Master Charles, such work as I do is not fit for a young
+gentleman like you," said Giles.
+
+"You must not call me a young gentleman _now_, for I am only a poor
+boy, and poorer than other poor boys, for they can earn their own
+living, while I should have been starved to death had not you given me
+half of the bread you work so hard for. But I will not be a burthen to
+you any longer, but learn to work and get my own living as you do."
+
+Charles now meant to keep his word, and they both went out into the
+fields, and worked together at picking stones off the young crops of
+wheat and clover, and before breakfast. Giles had picked up two
+bushels of stones and Charles one, and the farmer gave them a penny
+per bushel for gathering them up.
+
+Then they made haste back to the cottage, and Giles gave his mother
+the money he had earned, and Charles did the same, and when the dame
+poured out the milk for the family Charles saw that she filled a
+porringer for him also, and they had all a good breakfast that
+morning, and Charles felt quite happy because he had not eaten the
+bread of idleness. So he went out to work with Giles again, and earned
+twopence before dinner.
+
+When Dame Bloomfield took up the dumplings Charles saw there was one
+for him, and he felt happy that poor Giles had not to deprive himself
+of half his food that he might eat.
+
+Charles went out to work every day with Giles, and in the evening he
+learned to read and write. He became quite good and gentle, and
+enjoyed more happiness than he had experienced in his life before, And
+why was Charles happy? I will tell you, my dear children. Because he
+was no longer a proud, froward boy as he had been, but was kind and
+sweet-tempered to every one, and did his duty both to God and himself.
+
+The winter passed swiftly away, and the spring came, and the birds
+began to sing, and the trees looked green and gay, and the pretty
+flowers bloomed in the gardens and covered the meadows all over, and
+scented the air with their fragrance, and Charles thought it very
+pleasant to work in the fields, and hear the birds sing as they tended
+their young, or built their nests among the green boughs or in the
+hedges.
+
+One day Giles said to Charles: "Master Charles, we cannot work
+together in the fields any more; I have got a new employment"
+
+"But why cannot I work with you?" asked Charles.
+
+"Because, sir, you will not like to work where I am going," answered
+Giles. Charles asked where that was. "In the garden of the great
+house, Master Charles, where you used to live," said Giles.
+
+Charles looked very sorrowful, and remained silent for some minutes;
+at last he said: "Well, Giles, I will go with you; my clothes are
+grown shabby now, and nobody will know me, and if they did I hope I am
+too wise to be ashamed of doing my duty, so let us go directly."
+
+Then Giles took Charles into the garden, and the gardener gave them
+each a hoe and a rake, and told them to hoe up the weeds on the flower
+borders, and then rake them neatly over, and promised if they worked
+well he would give them eight-pence per day.
+
+Now this was much pleasanter than picking stones in the field, but
+Charles was very sad, and could not refrain from shedding tears when
+he thought of the time when he used to play in that very garden, and
+he thought, too, of his dear mamma who was dead, and of his sister
+Clara, whom he had not seen for so many months, but he worked as hard
+as he could, and the gardener praised them both, and he gave them a
+basket to put the weeds in, and showed them how to rake the borders
+smooth.
+
+Just as they had finished the job, and Charles was saying to Giles,
+"How neat our work looks!" a little boy, dressed very fine, came into
+the garden, and, as he passed them, said: "I am glad I am a
+gentleman's son, and not obliged to work like these dirty boys."
+
+When Charles thought the little boy was out of hearing, he said to
+Giles: "That little boy is as wicked as I used to be, and I doubt not
+but that God will punish him in the same way if he does not mend his
+manners."
+
+The little boy, who had overheard what Charles said, was very angry,
+and made ugly faces, and ran into the newly-raked beds, and covered
+them with footmarks. Then Charles said: "I am sorry for you, young
+gentleman, for I see you are not good."
+
+"How dare you say I am not good?" said this naughty child. "I am a
+great deal better than you, for I am a gentleman, and you are only a
+poor boy."
+
+"Yes," said Charles, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, "I am,
+indeed, only a poor boy _now_, but I was once rich like you, and lived
+in this very house, and wore fine clothes, and had plenty of toys and
+money, and was just as proud and naughty as you are, but God, to
+punish me, took away my parents and all those things that I had been
+so proud of, and that I had made such a bad use of, and reduced me to
+a poor boy, as you see."
+
+When the little boy heard this he looked very serious, and said: "I
+have been very naughty, but I will do so no more," and he went into
+the house, and never teased Charles or Giles again.
+
+A few months after this, when Charles and Giles were working as usual
+in the garden, they saw a gentleman come down one of the walks,
+leading by the hand a little girl dressed in a black silk frock and
+bonnet trimmed with crape.
+
+"Ah, Giles," said Charles, "how like that young lady is to my sister
+Clara. I wonder whether I shall ever see my dear sister Clara again."
+
+"Brother Charles, dear brother Charles, you have not then quite
+forgotten your sister Clara," said the little girl, throwing her arms
+round his neck as she spoke.
+
+When Charles saw that it was, indeed, his own dear sister Clara, he
+kissed her and cried with joy.
+
+Then he told Clara all that had happened to him since the day they had
+parted, and how sorry he had been for all his past conduct, and he
+asked her who the gentleman was that had brought her into the garden.
+
+"It is our uncle, dear Charles. You know our dear mother had a brother
+who lived in India that she used frequently to talk about. Well, when
+he came home, and heard that mother was dead, and we were in distress,
+he came to nurse's cottage, and took me home to his house, and has
+now come to find you, for he is very good and kind, and loves us both
+for our dear mother's sake."
+
+"And will he take me home too?" said Charles.
+
+"Yes, my boy," said Charles's uncle, taking him by the hand, "because
+you are good and kind, and are no longer cross and proud, as I heard
+you used to be. You shall come home with me this very day, if you
+please, and I will teach you everything that a young gentleman should
+know, and you and Clara shall be my children so long as you continue
+to be deserving of my love, and are not unkind, nor despise those who
+are beneath you in situation."
+
+"Indeed, uncle," said Charles, "I can now feel for the poor, and I
+would rather remain as I am than be rich if I thought I should ever
+behave as I used to do."
+
+"My dear child," said his uncle, kissing him with great affection,
+"continue to think so, and you will never act amiss. The first and
+greatest step toward amendment is acknowledging our faults. What is
+passed shall be remembered no more, and I doubt not but that we shall
+all be happy for the time to come."
+
+"But uncle," said Charles, laying his hand on his uncle's arm, "I have
+something to ask of you."
+
+"Well, Charles, and what would you have of me?" said his uncle.
+
+Then Charles led Giles to his uncle, and related all he had done for
+him; how he had taken him to his own home, and given him half of his
+food and his bed, and taught him to read and to work; he, likewise,
+told his uncle how ill he had behaved to Giles in depriving him of his
+pretty Snowball, and he said: "Dear uncle, will you allow Giles to
+share my good fortune, for I cannot be happy while he is in want, and
+he is better than me, for he returned good for evil."
+
+Then his uncle said: "Charles, I should not have loved you had you
+forgotten your kind friend." And he asked Giles if he would like to go
+to his house and live with him, and spend his time in learning to read
+and write, and in improving his mind, instead of hard labor.
+
+"I should like it very much indeed, sir," said Giles, "but I cannot
+accept your kind offer."
+
+"And why not, my good little friend?"
+
+"Because, sir," said Giles, bursting into tears, "my poor mother and
+sisters must go to the workhouse or starve if I did not stay and work
+for them, and I could not be happy if I lived in a fine house, and
+knew they were in want of a bit of bread to eat."
+
+"Then," said the gentleman smiling, "for your sake they shall never
+want anything, for I will put them into a cottage of my own, and will
+take care of them, and you shall live with me, and I will love you as
+if you were my own child, and remember, Giles, I do this as a reward
+for your kindness to Charles when he was unhappy and in great
+distress."
+
+Charles's uncle was as good as his word, and Giles received the
+blessings of a good education, while his mother and sisters were
+maintained by the benevolence of his benefactor.
+
+Charles was so careful not to relapse into his former errors that he
+became as remarkable for his gentleness and the goodness of his heart
+as he had formerly been for his pride and unkindness, and in the
+diligent performance of his duty, both to God and man, he proved to
+his uncle the sincerity of his amendment.
+
+
+
+
+TRIAL
+
+_Of a Complaint made against Sundry Persons for Breaking in the
+Windows of Dorothy Careful, Widow and Dealer in Gingerbread_
+
+By JOHN AIKIN AND MRS. BARBAULD
+
+
+The court being sat, there appeared in person the widow Dorothy
+Careful to make a complaint against Henry Luckless, and other person
+or persons unknown, for breaking three panes of glass, value
+ninepence, in the house of the said widow. Being directed to tell her
+case to the court, she made a curtsey and began as follows:
+
+"Please, your lordship, I was sitting at work by my fireside between
+the hours of six and seven in the evening, just as it was growing
+dusk, and little Jack was spinning beside me, when all at once crack
+went the window, and down fell a little basket of cakes that was set
+up against it. I started up and cried to Jack: 'Bless me, what's the
+matter?' 'So,' says Jack, 'sombody has thrown a stone and broke the
+window, and I dare say it is some of the schoolboys.' With that I ran
+out of the house, and saw some boys making off as fast as they could
+go. So I ran after them as quick as my old legs would carry me, but I
+should never have come near them if one had not happened to fall down.
+Him I caught and brought back to my house, when Jack knew him at once
+to be Master Henry Luckless. So I told him I would complain of him the
+next day, and I hope your worship will make him pay the damage, and I
+think he deserves a good whipping into the bargain for injuring a poor
+widow woman."
+
+The Judge, having heard Mrs. Careful's story, desired her to sit down,
+and then calling up Master Luckless, asked him what he had to say for
+himself. Luckless appeared with his face a good deal scratched, and
+looking very ruefully. After making his bow and sobbing two or three
+times, he said:
+
+"My lord, I am as innocent of this matter as any boy in the school,
+and I am sure I have suffered enough about it already. My lord, Billy
+Thompson and I were playing in the lane near Mrs. Careful's house when
+we heard the window crash, and directly after she came running out
+towards us. Upon this Billy ran away, and I ran too, thinking I might
+bear the blame. But after running a little way I stumbled over
+something that lay in the road, and before I could get up again she
+overtook me, and caught me by the hair, and began lugging and cuffing
+me. I told her it was not I that broke her window, but it did not
+signify; so she dragged me to the light, lugging and scratching me all
+the while, and then said she would inform against me. And that is all
+I know of the matter."
+
+"I find, good woman," said the Judge, "you were willing to revenge
+yourself without waiting for the justice of this court."
+
+"My lord, I must confess I was put into a passion, and did not
+properly consider what I was doing."
+
+"Well, where is Billy Thompson?"
+
+"Here, my lord."
+
+"You have heard what Henry Luckless says. Declare upon your honor
+whether he has spoken the truth."
+
+"My lord," said Billy, "I am sure neither he nor I had any concern in
+breaking the window. We were standing together at the time, and I ran
+on hearing the door open, for fear of being charged with it, and he
+followed; but what became of him I did not stay to see."
+
+"So you let your friend," the Judge remarked, "shift for himself, and
+thought only of saving yourself. But did you see any other person
+about the house or in the lane?"
+
+"My lord, I thought I heard some one creeping along the other side of
+the hedge a little before the window was broken, but I saw nobody."
+
+"You hear, good woman, what is alleged in behalf of the person you
+have accused. Have you any other evidence against him?"
+
+"One might be sure," the widow replied, "they would deny it, and tell
+lies for one another; but I hope I am not to be put off in that
+manner."
+
+"I must tell you, mistress, that you give too much liberty to your
+tongue, and are as guilty of as much injustice as that of which you
+complain. I should be sorry indeed if the young gentlemen of this
+school deserved the general character of liars. You will find among
+us, I hope, as just a sense of what is right and honorable as among
+those who are older, and our worthy master would certainly not permit
+us to try offences in this manner if he thought us capable of bearing
+false witness in each other's favor."
+
+"I ask your lordship's pardon; I did not mean to offend; but it is a
+heavy loss for a poor woman, and though I did not catch the boy in the
+act, he was the nearest when it was done."
+
+"As that is no more than a suspicion, and he has the positive evidence
+of his schoolfellow in his favor, it will be impossible to convict him
+consistently with the rules of justice. Have you discovered any other
+circumstance that may point out the offender?"
+
+"My lord, next morning Jack found on the floor this top, which I
+suppose the window was broke with."
+
+"Hand it up. Here, gentlemen of the jury, please to examine it, and
+see if you can discover anything of its owner."
+
+"Here is 'P.R.' cut upon it."
+
+"Yes," said another boy, "I am sure I remember Peter Riot having just
+such a one."
+
+"So do I," still another remarked.
+
+"Master Riot, is this your top?"
+
+"I don't know, my lord," said Riot; "perhaps it may be mine. I have
+had a great many tops, and when I have done with them I throw them
+away, and any body may pick them up that pleases. You see, it has lost
+its peg."
+
+"Very well, sir. Mrs. Careful, you may retire."
+
+"And must I have no amends, my lord?"
+
+"Have patience; leave everything to the court. We shall do you all the
+justice in our power."
+
+As soon as the widow was gone the Judge rose from his seat, and with
+much solemnity thus addressed the assembly:
+
+"Gentlemen, this business, I confess, gives me much dissatisfaction. A
+poor woman has been insulted and injured in her property, apparently
+without provocation, and although she has not been able to convict the
+offender, it cannot be doubted that she, as well as the world in
+general, will impute the crime to some of our society. Though I am in
+my own mind convinced that in her passion she charged an innocent
+person, yet the circumstance of the top is a strong suspicion--indeed,
+almost a proof--that the perpetrator of this unmanly mischief was one
+of our body.
+
+"The owner of the top has justly observed that its having been his
+property is no certain proof against him.
+
+"Since, therefore, in the present defect of evidence the whole school
+must remain burdened with both the discredit of this action and share
+in the guilt of it, I think fit, in the first place, to decree that
+restitution shall be made to the sufferer out of the public chest,
+and, next, that a Court of Inquiry be instituted for the express
+purpose of searching thoroughly into the affair, with the power to
+examine all persons upon honor who are thought likely to be able to
+throw light upon it. I hope, gentlemen, these measures meet with your
+concurrence."
+
+The whole court bowed to the Judge, and expressed their entire
+satisfaction with his determination.
+
+It was then ordered that the Public Treasurer should go to the Widow
+Careful's house, and pay her a sum of one shilling, making at the same
+time a handsome apology in the name of the school; and six persons
+were taken by lot of the jury to compose the Court of Inquiry, which
+was to sit in the evening.
+
+The Court then adjourned.
+
+On the meeting of the Court of Inquiry the first thing proposed by the
+President was that the persons who usually played with Master Riot
+should be sent for. Accordingly Tom Frisk and Bob Loiter were
+summoned, when the President asked them upon their honor if they knew
+the top to have been Riot's.
+
+They said they did. They were then asked if they remembered when Riot
+had it in his possession.
+
+"He had it," said Frisk, "the day before yesterday, and split a top of
+mine with it."
+
+"Yes," said Loiter, "and then as he was making a stroke at mine the
+peg flew out."
+
+"What did he do with it?"
+
+"He put it into his pocket, and said as it was a strong top he would
+have it mended."
+
+"Then he did not throw it away, or give it to any one?"
+
+"Yes; a day or two before he went to the Widow Careful's shop for some
+gingerbread; but as he already owed her sixpence, she would not let
+him have any till he had paid his debts."
+
+"How did he take the disappointment?"
+
+"He said he would be revenged on her."
+
+"Are you sure he used such words?"
+
+"Yes. Loiter heard him as well as myself."
+
+"I did, sir," said Loiter.
+
+"Do either of you know any more of this affair?"
+
+"No, sir," replied both boys together.
+
+"You may go," said the President, adding "that these witnesses had
+done a good deal in establishing proof against Riot; for it was pretty
+certain that no one but himself could have been in possession of the
+top at the time the crime was committed, and it also appeared that he
+had declared a malicious intention against the woman, which it was
+highly probable he would put into execution. As the court were
+debating about the next step to be taken they were acquainted that
+Jack, the widow's son, was waiting at the school-door for admission;
+and a person being sent out for him, Riot was found threatening the
+boy, and bidding him go home about his business. The boy, however, was
+conveyed safely into the room, when he thus addressed himself to the
+President:
+
+"Sir, and please your worship," said Jack, "as I was looking about
+this morning for sticks in the hedge over against our house, I found
+this buckle. So I thought to myself, 'Sure this must belong to the
+rascal that broke our window.' So I have brought it to see if any one
+in the school would own it."
+
+"On which side of the hedge did you find it?"
+
+"On the other side from our house, in the close."
+
+"Let us see it Gentlemen," said the President, "this is so smart a
+buckle that I am sure I remember it at once, and I dare say you all
+do."
+
+"It is Riot's!" exclaimed all together.
+
+"Has anybody observed Riot's shoes to-day?" the President asked.
+
+"Yes; he has got them tied with strings," a boy replied.
+
+"Very well, then, gentlemen, we have nothing more to do than to draw
+up the evidence we have heard, and lay it before his lordship. Jack,
+you may go home."
+
+"Pray, sir, let somebody go with me, for I am afraid of Riot, who has
+just been threatening me at the door."
+
+"Master Bold will please to go along with the boy."
+
+The minutes of the court were then drawn up, and the President took
+them to the Judge's chamber. After the Judge had perused them, he
+ordered an indictment to be drawn up against Peter Riot: "For that he
+meanly and clandestinely and with malice aforethought had broken three
+panes in the window of Widow Careful with a certain instrument called
+a top, whereby he had committed an atrocious injury upon an innocent
+person, and had brought a disgrace upon the society to which he
+belonged."
+
+At the same time he sent an officer to inform Master Riot that his
+trial would come on the next morning.
+
+Riot, who was with some of his gay companions, affected to treat the
+matter with great indifference, and even to make a jest of it.
+However, in the morning he thought it best to endeavor to make it up,
+and accordingly, when the court was assembled, he sent one of his
+friends with a shilling, saying that he would not trouble them with
+further inquiries, but would pay the sum that had been issued out of
+the public stock. On the receipt of this message the Judge rose with
+much severity in his countenance, and observing that by such
+contemptuous behavior towards the court the criminal had greatly added
+to his offence, he ordered two officers with their staves immediately
+to go and bring in Riot, and to use force if he should resist them.
+
+The culprit, thinking it best to submit, was presently led in between
+the two officers, when, being placed at the bar, the Judge then
+addressed him: "I am sorry, sir, that any member of this society can
+be so little sensible of the nature of a crime and so little
+acquainted with the principles of a court of justice as you have shown
+yourself to be by the proposal you took the improper liberty of
+sending us. If you mean it as a confession of your guilt, you
+certainly ought to have waited to receive from us the penalty we
+thought proper to inflict, and not to have imagined that an offer of
+the mere payment of damages would satisfy the claims of justice
+against you. If you had only broken the window by accident, and on
+your own accord offered restitution, nothing less than the full
+damages could have been accepted; but you now stand charged with
+having done this mischief meanly, secretly, and maliciously, and
+thereby have added a great deal of criminal intention to the act. Can
+you, then, think that a court like this, designed to watch over the
+morals, as well as protect the property of our community, can so
+slightly pass over such aggravated offences? You can claim no merit
+from confessing the crime now that you know so much evidence will
+appear against you. And if you choose still to plead not guilty, you
+are at liberty to do it, and we will proceed immediately to the trial
+without taking any advantage of the confession implied by your offer
+of payment."
+
+Riot stood silent for some time, and then begged to be allowed to
+consult with his friends what was the best for him to do. This was
+agreed to, and he was permitted to retire, though under guard of an
+officer. After a short absence he returned with more humility in his
+looks, and said that he pleaded guilty, and threw himself on the mercy
+of the court. The Judge then made a speech of some length, for the
+purpose of convincing the prisoner, as well as the bystanders, of the
+enormity of his crime. He then pronounced the following sentence:
+
+"You, Peter Riot, are hereby sentenced to pay to the public treasury
+the sum of half a crown as a satisfaction for this mischief you have
+done, and your attempt to conceal it.
+
+"You are to repair to the house of Widow Careful, accompanied by such
+witnesses as we shall appoint, and then, having first paid her the
+sum you owe her, you shall ask her pardon for the insult you offered
+her. You shall likewise to-morrow after school stand up in your place
+and before all the scholars ask pardon for the disgrace you have been
+the means of bringing upon the society, and in particular you shall
+apologize to Master Luckless for the disagreeable circumstances you
+were the means of bringing him into. Till after this is complied with
+you shall not presume to come into the playground or join in any of
+the diversions of the school, and all persons are hereby admonished
+not to keep you company till this is done."
+
+Riot was then dismissed to his room, and in the afternoon he was taken
+to the widow, who was pleased to receive his submission graciously,
+and at the same time to apologize for her own improper treatment of
+Master Luckless, to whom she sent a present of a nice ball by way of
+amends.
+
+Thus ended this important business.
+
+
+
+
+A PLOT OF GUNPOWDER:
+AN OLD LADY SEIZED FOR A GUY
+
+Ascribed to WILLIAM MARTIN ("PETER PARLEY")
+
+
+Gunpowder! Yes, it is a dreadful thing, and many a little boy has lost
+his eyesight by it. Next to playing with fire, I do not know anything
+so bad as playing with gunpowder.
+
+Every one knows of the fifth of November, the day set apart for
+commemorating the deliverance of King James and his Parliament from
+the horrible plot to blow them up with gunpowder, and how on that day
+Guido Fawkes, who was to have put the plan in execution, has his
+effigy paraded about.
+
+Well, it was on the fifth of November, in the year 1789, when Peter
+Parley was a boy, that the circumstances took place of which I am
+going to give a relation. The boys of those days, I think, were more
+fond of Guy Fawkes, and bonfires, and squibs, and crackers than they
+are now.
+
+I remember it was the first of November, early in the morning, that a
+lad, who was on a visit to my father, and who was my second cousin,
+got out of bed and said to me (for we both slept in one room):
+
+"Peter," said he, "do you have a guy in this town? I had a famous one
+last year, and such a bonfire as you never saw, for we burnt down a
+haystack. I should like to have a guy this year; do let us make one."
+
+I was only about twelve years old, and very fond of a bit of fun, and
+so I said:
+
+"That is a good idea. I was thinking of the same thing last night,
+because the clerk gave out in the church that there would be prayers
+on the fifth of November, on account of the Gunpowder Plot; and, as I
+came out of the church porch I saw a very old woman sitting there. She
+looked just like an old witch, and I said to myself, 'I should like to
+seize her for a guy.'"
+
+"Seize an old woman for a guy! Well, that would be the drollest thing
+that ever happened," said he; "and I should like to go you halves.
+Shall we go partners in it? We can easily get a chair and tie her down
+in it, and get a dark lantern and some matches and all that."
+
+"But she must be dressed like a man," said I; "there never was a
+female Guy Fawkes. The people would laugh at us."
+
+"So much the better," said he; "that is just what we want. I like
+something original, out of the common way. Now, a female Guy Fawkes is
+a thing that few persons ever saw, or even heard of."
+
+"But shall we not be taken up," said I, "perhaps put in prison, and
+get ourselves into a hobble?"
+
+"Well, what if we do? But we shall not do that. I am sure it is all
+right enough. But, however, to be quite certain, if you like we will
+ask Ephraim Quidd. You know, his father is a lawyer, and he will tell
+us in a minute. So when we go to school we will ask him, shall we?"
+
+"With all my heart," said I. And so with that we began to dress
+ourselves, and went downstairs to breakfast. I was so full of the
+matter that I sat and thought of it all the time I was eating my food;
+and at last my imagination painted the old woman sitting in a chair,
+calling out, "I am no guy! I am no guy!" the mob laughing, and the
+boys hurrahing so vividly that I burst into a fit of laughter myself.
+
+"Why, Peter," said my father, "'what is the matter now?"
+
+Instead of telling him I continued to laugh, till at last he grew very
+angry with me, and ordered me from the breakfast-table. I then took my
+hat and bag, and went off to school. Simon Sapskull--for that was my
+cousin's name--soon followed me.
+
+When he came up with me he said:
+
+"I thought what you were laughing at. It will be good fun. Let us make
+haste and see Quidd before he goes in. It will be good fun, won't
+it?"
+
+And here Master Simon jumped and capered about with delight.
+
+When we came to the schoolyard there were several boys assembled and
+Quidd among them. Simon immediately ran up to him.
+
+"Quidd," said he, "I want to ask you a question. You know the law, do
+you not? Your father is the town clerk, and you ought."
+
+"I do know the law," said Quidd. "Have I not been bred to it? And is
+not my father to be made Recorder next year?"
+
+"Well, then, answer me this," said Simon. "Is there any law against
+_seizing an old woman for a guy_?"
+
+The next morning Sapskull and myself, with Thomas Hardy and half a
+dozen other boys, met with a view to talk about the intended exploit.
+We withdrew to the backyard of the schoolroom, and there, in a corner
+where we thought we could not be overheard, we began to plot against
+the liberty of Dame Clackett.
+
+Hardy was one of the rarest boys for making fireworks I ever knew in
+my life. He had bought a book called "Every Boy his own Squib-Maker,"
+in which were directions for making squibs, crackers, rockets, Roman
+candles, serpents, slow fire, blue lights, and other descriptions of
+fireworks. This he nearly knew by heart. Sapskull said:
+
+"Look in your book and see if there is not in it how to make a guy."
+
+So Hardy looked all over the book, but to no purpose; there was no
+description of a guy manufactory. It was of no consequence; we had a
+guy in our head, and we only now wished to know how we should get hold
+of the old lady, and what we should do on this joyful occasion.
+
+Hardy said he had several pounds of gunpowder, and would sell us all
+squibs and crackers. But these we did not so much want. What we wanted
+was an old chair, an old jacket, hat, and other matters to dress up
+the old lady when we could catch her. But how to get her into the
+chair was the difficulty, and some proposed one thing and some
+another. Sapskull said, "We must make her merry with some beer."
+Hardy said, "We must tie her down." But I proposed to ask her to sit
+for her picture as a guy, and then to carry her off. Master Quidd was,
+however, more cunning than any of us, and said, "I know how to nab
+her; I have a plan, and a capital one it is, too."
+
+"What is it? what is it?" said all of us.
+
+The fact was old Dame Clackett was a very staunch churchwoman, and
+used always to go both on Wednesdays and Fridays, Rain or sunshine,
+hot or cold, nothing could keep her away from her church, and we silly
+boys laughed at her for it. Poor old creature! she felt more real
+pleasure in this than we could imagine.
+
+"I will tell you what we will do," said Quidd. "There is in our
+outhouse an old wheeled chair which my mother used to ride about in
+when she was so long ill, a year or two ago. Now, I know old Dame
+Clackett is very lame just now, from having let fall her fender on her
+foot. I will take this chair down, and offer to draw her to church in
+it, and then, when we have once got her in the chair, we can do as we
+like with her. Hurrah!"
+
+"Won't that be fun?" continued Quidd. "Let us do it--let us do it.
+There is no law against it; the thing was never thought of. It is just
+like the law that was never made among the Romans that I read about in
+my lessons yesterday: there was no law against a child killing his own
+father. I tell you," said he, "if there were twenty old women to be
+seized and burnt, nobody could be hurt for it. But you do not mean to
+burn her, I suppose, do you?"
+
+"Oh no," said we; "we only want to have some fun. We should like to
+make a guy of her, that is all, and rare fun it will be."
+
+"Let me join you," said one; "Let me join," said another, till at last
+the whole school entered into the plot.
+
+We all forgot what we should have remembered--namely, that, instead of
+despising or ridiculing people who are old and helpless and poor, we
+ought to treat them with kindness, respect, and consideration. We
+forgot that we, if suffered to live long enough, should also become
+old, and that it would be hard for us to bear the coldness and neglect
+of the world, but much harder to endure the ridicule and ill-behavior
+of wicked children. Ay, we were thoughtless lads, and so we suffered
+for it, as you will afterwards hear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The old lady whom I had seen sitting in the church porch, who was so
+ugly, as I thought, and so withered and old, was a very poor widow.
+Her husband had died in battle long ago, and she had from year to year
+supported herself by her spinning wheel and the little relief she had
+from the parish. She lived in a little hut on a piece of waste ground,
+and kept a little poultry, and now and then a pig or two.
+
+Among other animals, the old lady kept an enormous goat, or, rather,
+he kept himself. It was one her husband had brought her from abroad,
+of the Syrian breed. It was quite young when it came over, but at last
+grew and grew so, as to become a very formidable animal, so strong and
+fierce, that every dog was afraid of it, being, no doubt, terrified by
+the sight of its large horns and undaunted aspect. The name of this
+dread animal was Hannibal.
+
+Poor old Goody Clackett--for that was her name--had little thoughts of
+ever being "smugged," as it was termed, by our schoolfellows to make a
+guy on the fifth of November, and sat quietly enough spinning her
+wheel and drawing out her yarn. Sometimes the thrum of the old wheel
+would send her soundly to sleep, and then she never dreamed of such a
+thing as was to happen to her.
+
+Every boy was delighted with this proposition, and it was arranged
+that on the following evening I and my cousin Simon should assist in
+the endeavor to get the chair from the outhouse to a convenient place,
+while Hardy was to provide lantern, matches, cap, and feathers, with
+red and black paint to disfigure the features of the poor old
+creature.
+
+"We will make her amends," said Quidd, "all the money we get shall be
+hers."
+
+"Oh yes; that is quite fair," said I.
+
+When the evening came and it was quite dark, Simon and I went to the
+back part of Quidd's father's house. After waiting some little time we
+heard a knock. Presently Quidd opened the gates and came out.
+
+"There, get it," said he. "Look about to see if anybody is coming, and
+you can take it away."
+
+We did so. The coast was clear, and out rolled the chair.
+
+Simon and I took hold of it, one behind and one before at the
+handle-stick. Away we went, as had been preconcerted between us in the
+stable-yard of another schoolfellow of ours in the plot, who placed it
+near the gate and covered it over with loose straw, so that no one
+could see it.
+
+The next evening, which was the fourth of November, we met again by
+appointment at the dark hollow of the churchyard. This meeting was for
+the purpose of determining about the way in which Dame Clackett should
+be dressed in her triumphal entry to the Town Hall, the place where
+the bonfires were usually made. Hardy had brought what was of
+essential service--namely, an old coat which had formerly belonged to
+his father when in the yeomanry cavalry, an old helmet, a
+cartridge-box, and a pair of boots.
+
+"We shall never get the boots on," said I.
+
+Another boy brought an old lantern with the horn burnt out, a third a
+bunch of matches; then there was a mask and a lath-sword and a drum,
+with sticks and straw in abundance. They were all deposited in the
+same place with the chair. The conspirators (for conspirators we were)
+then made a promise to each other not to split, as they call it--that
+is, not to betray each other, and to go through with our work like
+_Britons;_ so we all shook hands and parted.
+
+The next morning was a holiday, and we were up betimes. After a
+consultation it was determined that I and Quidd should go to the old
+dame and see how she was, and if she was determined to go to church,
+and if there would be any difficulty to get her to accept of the
+convenience of our vehicle; so off we set. In less than half-an-hour
+we reached the old dame's cottage, and found her at that very moment
+dressing her foot.
+
+Quidd was the first who spoke.
+
+"Good morning, Goody," said he. "What, is not your foot well yet?
+Why, I hear you have not been to church lately. The curate was at
+father's last night, and said if you were so lame that you could not
+walk, you might have our easy four-wheeled chair. But I suppose you
+won't go to church to-day--it is only the fifth of November?"
+
+"Not go to church!" said the old woman--"not go to church! I have
+always gone on the fifth of November for forty years. My poor husband
+was in a French prison, and he knew well enough what the Jacobites
+are. Was he not blown up, poor fellow, in the 'Glorious?' and were not
+King James and all his people to have been blown up so high by the
+horrid Papist plot that I suppose they would not have been down by
+this time? No Popery, I say! I would sooner crawl to church on my
+hands and knees than not go to-day, young gentlemen. And then Mr.
+Hassock, the kind, good curate, to ask for me!"
+
+"Yes, and then there is the 'coal money' given on the fifth, that all
+the widows in the parish may have a good fire through the winter, you
+know, Goody."
+
+"Yes, I must go to church," said Mrs. Clackett.
+
+"That you must," said Quidd, "and I will tell you what these young
+gentlemen and I will do. We will bring down the chair, and take you
+there ourselves. I am sure it would please Mr. Hassock. Would it not,
+Parley?"
+
+"Yes, and the rector also," said I. "And I have no doubt but the
+churchwardens would like to see Goody at church, for the tickets for
+flannel petticoats are to be given away to-day."
+
+"What is that?" said Mrs. Clackett. "Oh, yes, I could not keep away
+from my church! Good young gentlemen, I shall never forget your
+kindness."
+
+We stopped to hear no more. We were overjoyed with the success of our
+plot. Away we ran to our companions, and, without stopping to explain,
+cried out:
+
+"The chair! the chair! We shall have a guy, the best in the whole
+country!"
+
+So away we ran with the chair, and all our other preparations for
+dressing and tying and securing.
+
+The whole party surrounded the chair, some pushing, some pulling.
+When, however, we got within a convenient distance of the old lady's
+hut, Hardy and the others stepped on one side, and placed the helmet,
+coat, lantern, matches, etc., under a hedge, to be ready when
+required, while Quidd, Sapskull, and myself went with the chair to the
+old lady's cottage.
+
+When we got there we found her spruce and prim with her best black
+silk bonnet, something in shape like a coal-scuttle, her stick in her
+hand, and her shoes on her feet. We drove up the chair in fine style.
+There were several cottages close by, and the neighbors came out to
+see the old lady ride. At last some one who knew Quidd said:
+
+"Why, that is the lawyer's son. Sure enough old Goody has got some
+money left her."
+
+So then there was a talking and surmising, and before Goody got to
+church it was reported all over the town that she was made the
+possessor of several thousand pounds prize-money; that she was to be a
+lady, and ride in her carriage. Being sent for, as it was supposed, by
+the lawyer must be for something--a large legacy, no doubt.
+
+The chair wheeled on with Goody in it. The boys looked as if they were
+up to something, and sure enough they were. When they came to that
+part of the lane at which the various habiliments had been left, the
+chair stopped, and out rushed the other conspirators.
+
+"Do not be alarmed, Goody," said Hardy. "We are only going to make a
+guy of you for an hour or two. No one shall harm you, and you shall
+have all the money we get."
+
+"I want to go to church--I want to go to church!" said the old lady,
+and tried to get out of the chair.
+
+Hardy, however, very dexterously threw some cord round the arms, and
+tied the poor old creature down.
+
+"We won't hurt you, Goody," said he. "We only want you for a guy. You
+shall have all the money."
+
+"I won't be a guy! I won't be a guy!" said Goody. "I do not want any
+money. Let me out! let me out!"
+
+She then made a blow with her broomstick, and struck Master Hardy on
+the nose, from which the blood flowed freely. This, however, only made
+him the more determined, and in a few minutes the poor old woman's
+arms were secured as well as her legs.
+
+"Oh, help, neighbors! They are going to burn me!" said the old lady,
+and then she fell coughing, for she had long suffered from asthma.
+
+While convulsed with this fit, the boys took the opportunity to
+besmear her face with red and black paint, and to place the helmet on
+her head, and the coat round her, so that the arms hung on each side
+with nothing on them. The chair was then crammed with straw, and the
+lantern and the matches suspended from it. In this state the chair was
+wheeled rapidly along in the direction of the town.
+
+Other boys soon joined, and surrounded the vehicle, shouting and
+laughing. The old lady, made several ineffectual attempts to get out
+of the chair. She called out, "A plot! a plot! a Popery plot! No
+Popery! Oh! I shall be killed!" and many such exclamations. The
+populace took this as a part of the character, and laughed most
+heartily. The greatest number of persons thought the guy to be a boy
+dressed up, and cried out that he acted his part well. No one
+suspected it was old Dame Clackett.
+
+Away they went in the midst of the hubbub, up one street and down
+another, over the market-place and by the church. Just as the clock
+struck twelve the boys of the Free School came from the latter place,
+and joined the procession. It was now a national affair, and, as it
+proceeded from the church doors, it was thought to be the church Guy
+Fawkes--and so it was.
+
+"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted a hundred voices; and while Hardy and his
+companions held on the chair, Quidd and I went about with our hats to
+collect as much money as we could.
+
+The old lady was vociferous, and struggled to get out. She flung her
+arms about, and cried out, "Deliver me from the flames! Save me from
+being burnt!" and everybody thought that the part of guy was acted to
+perfection.
+
+Quidd and I got a great deal of money--silver, and copper, and even
+gold. Seven-shilling pieces were in circulation at that time, and the
+squire and Mr. Hassock passing us, one threw sixpence and the other a
+seven-shilling piece to us, for which we gave a louder cheer than
+usual. In short, our hats were very nearly half full of money.
+
+The old woman began to be more pacified as she saw the money coming
+in, particularly as we put it all into her lap, and told her it should
+be hers. But the sight of the squire and the curate, and the
+seven-shilling piece, which latter we put into her mouth, seemed quite
+to reconcile her to her fate. She became then as gentle as a lamb. She
+said:
+
+"Do as you like--do as you like, only don't burn me for a guy; and
+give me a drop of something to drink."
+
+"Oh yes," said Quidd, "here is something for you. Hold up your head."
+
+And half a pint of good strong ale soon found its way down the throat
+of the dame. After this the chair again moved on, till at last it came
+to the market-place, opposite the Town Hall, where an enormous bonfire
+was in preparation, over which stood a gallows.
+
+The old lady, when she saw the gallows, screamed "Murder! fire!
+brimstone!" and all sorts of horrid cries; but nobody took any heed of
+it, except to laugh. They thought it was in keeping with her
+character.
+
+"We will not hurt you, we will not hurt you," said I.
+
+But it was of no use; the old lady refused to be pacified.
+
+Just at this moment Quidd felt a severe blow from behind, which sent
+him sprawling. I also received a push or a drive, and a loud laugh
+burst from those around.
+
+When I turned to see what was the cause of the laughter, what should I
+observe but Hannibal, the goat, who had, it appeared, followed his
+mistress, and, being excited by her cries, dashed at my schoolfellow
+in the way described. Several of the spectators now tried to seize the
+goat, but he being of extraordinary strength, butted and pushed so
+vigorously that several measured their length upon the earth, to the
+no small merriment of the clownish persons who had collected together
+to the burning of the guy.
+
+During all this time Dame Clackett cried out loudly, and in the
+confusion her chair was upset, and she became liberated from her
+duress. As soon as she was free, she laid about on all sides of her
+with her stick, pulled off the helmet and jacket in which she had been
+nearly smothered, and cried out at the top of her voice:
+
+"I am no guy! I am Dame Clackett! For goodness' sake do not burn me
+for a witch!"
+
+She, however, kept her apron close in which the money was, and took
+care not to let the seven-shilling piece fall out of her mouth.
+
+The mob cheered. It would have been well if this had been all, but no:
+as soon as ever the old lady told her story that she had been seized
+for a guy, an effort was immediately made to secure the offenders. The
+constable, who happened to be present, laid hold of me and cousin
+Simon; several others were seized by the bystanders; and the whole,
+with the exception of Quidd, were dragged off to what in the country
+is called the goose-house--that is, the cage. Quidd, lawyer-like,
+contrived to get out of the scrape, leaving others in it. So we were
+all put into the cage, and bolted and barred. It was very dark, and as
+we were terribly frightened, we all began to howl most hideously.
+
+As to Quidd, he went homewards, as if nothing had happened, and soon
+made his reappearance, prepared for the usual squibbing and cracking,
+with his pockets full of squibs and crackers. He was so pleased with
+the success of the scheme in which he had been so forward an actor
+that he determined to have more fun before he went to bed; so he
+looked about, and it was not long before he saw a fit object, as he
+thought.
+
+At the corner of the street leading to the market-place sat poor old
+Hannah Grimly, as she was called. She had sold roasted chestnuts on
+the fifth of November for a score of years, and many a pinch of
+gunpowder had been put under the lid of the saucepan upon which the
+chestnuts were laid. Quidd determined to have a good explosion, and
+took the opportunity, while the chestnuts were being put into his
+hand, to introduce a packet of gunpowder into the kettle. He thought
+to run away before it should ignite, but there being a small hole in
+the paper, the moment it touched the fire the whole went off with a
+loud explosion. Quidd's hand was shattered to pieces, and he fell
+stunned with the effects of the powder. He was taken home senseless,
+and put to bed.
+
+The rest of the conspirators, including myself, were kept in the cage
+all night in bitter tears. The next morning we were taken before the
+magistrates. The chairman, who happened to be the very squire who had
+given us the seven-shilling piece, looked very severely at us, and
+said:
+
+"This is the most horrible plot I ever heard of--seizing an old woman
+for a guy! Gentlemen," said he to those around him, "if this be
+permitted none of us are safe."
+
+Some people used to call the magistrates old women, and so this raised
+a laugh.
+
+He then called to the clerk to look over the Act of Parliament to see
+what could be the punishment for such an offence, but found none.
+Quidd was right--there was no law against seizing an old woman for a
+guy. The bench were puzzled what to do. At last Quidd's father said we
+should be indicted for stealing his chair, and be put on our trial for
+robbery and sacrilege--the first for the abduction of the chair, the
+second for keeping the old lady _from church._
+
+Our fathers and mothers, however, pleaded so eloquently that, after a
+severe admonition, we got off upon payment of the costs and a handsome
+compensation to Dame Clackett. When I reached home my father took me
+into the stable and gave me a sound whipping, and at the conclusion of
+the flagellation said:
+
+"Now, Peter Parley, I think you will not again seize an old woman for
+a guy!"
+
+And I never did.
+
+
+
+
+UNCLE DAVID'S NONSENSICAL STORY ABOUT GIANTS AND FAIRIES
+
+By KATHERINE SINCLAIR
+
+
+In the days of yore children were not all such clever, good, sensible
+people as they are now. Lessons were then considered rather a plague,
+sugar-plums were still in demand, holidays continued yet in fashion,
+and toys were not then made to teach mathematics, nor storybooks to
+give instruction in chemistry and navigation. These were very strange
+times, and there existed at that period a very idle, greedy, naughty
+boy, such as we never hear of in the present day. His father and
+mother were--no matter who, and he lived--no matter where. His name
+was Master No-book, and he seemed to think his eyes were made for
+nothing but to stare out of the windows, and his mouth for no other
+purpose but to eat. This young gentleman hated lessons like mustard,
+both of which brought tears into his eyes, and during school hours he
+sat gazing at his books, pretending to be busy, while his mind
+wandered away to wish impatiently for dinner, and to consider where he
+could get the nicest pies, pastry, ices, and jellies, while he smacked
+his lips at the very thoughts of them.
+
+Whenever Master No-book spoke it was always to ask for something, and
+you might continually hear him say in a whining tone of voice:
+"Father, may I take this piece of cake?" "Aunt Sarah, will you give me
+an apple?" "Mother, do send me the whole of that plum-pudding."
+Indeed, very frequently, when he did not get permission to gormandize,
+this naughty glutton helped himself without leave. Even his dreams
+were like his waking hours, for he had often a horrible nightmare
+about lessons, thinking he was smothered with Greek lexicons or pelted
+out of the school with a shower of English grammars, while one night
+he fancied himself sitting down to devour an enormous plum-cake, and
+all on a sudden it became transformed into a Latin dictionary.
+
+One afternoon Master No-book, having played truant all day from
+school, was lolling on his mother's best sofa in the drawing-room,
+with his leather boots tucked up on the satin cushions, and nothing to
+do but to suck a few oranges, and nothing to think of but how much
+sugar to put upon them, when suddenly an event took place which filled
+him with astonishment.
+
+A sound of soft music stole into the room, becoming louder and louder
+the longer he listened, till at length, in a few moments afterwards, a
+large hole burst open in the wall of his room, and there stepped into
+his presence two magnificent fairies, just arrived from their castles
+in the air, to pay him a visit. They had traveled all the way on
+purpose to have some conversation with Master No-book, and immediately
+introduced themselves in a very ceremonious manner.
+
+The fairy Do-nothing was gorgeously dressed with a wreath of flaming
+gas round her head, a robe of gold tissue, a necklace of rubies, and a
+bouquet in her hand of glittering diamonds. Her cheeks were rouged to
+the very eyes, her teeth were set in gold, and her hair was of a most
+brilliant purple; in short, so fine and fashionable-looking a fairy
+never was seen in a drawing-room before. The fairy Teach-all, who
+followed next, was simply dressed in white muslin, with bunches of
+natural flowers in her light-brown hair, and she carried in her hand a
+few neat small volumes, which Master No-book looked at with a shudder
+of aversion.
+
+The two fairies now informed him that they very often invited large
+parties of children to spend some time at their palaces, but as they
+lived in quite an opposite direction, it was necessary for their young
+guests to choose which it would be best to visit first; therefore they
+had now come to inquire of Master No-book whom he thought it would be
+most agreeable to accompany on the present occasion.
+
+"In my house," said the fairy Teach-all, speaking with a very sweet
+smile and a soft, pleasing voice, "you shall be taught to find
+pleasure in every sort of exertion, for I delight in activity and
+diligence. My young friends rise at seven every morning, and amuse
+themselves with working in a beautiful garden of flowers, rearing
+whatever fruit they wish to eat, visiting among the poor, associating
+pleasantly together, studying the arts and sciences, and learning to
+know the world in which they live, and to fulfil the purposes for
+which they have been brought into it. In short, all our amusements
+tend to some useful object, either for our own improvement or the good
+of others, and you will grow wiser, better, and happier every day you
+remain in the palace of Knowledge."
+
+"But in Castle Needless, where I live," interrupted the fairy
+Do-nothing, rudely pushing her companion aside with an angry,
+contemptuous look, "we never think of exerting ourselves for anything.
+You may put your head in your pocket and your hands in your sides as
+long as you choose to stay. No one is ever asked a question, that he
+may be spared the trouble of answering. We lead the most fashionable
+life imaginable, for nobody speaks to anybody. Each of my visitors is
+quite an exclusive, and sits with his back to as many of the company
+as possible, in the most comfortable arm-chair that can be contrived.
+There, if you are only so good as to take the trouble of wishing for
+anything, it is yours without even turning an eye round to look where
+it comes from. Dresses are provided of the most magnificent kind,
+which go on themselves, without your having the smallest annoyance
+with either buttons or strings; games which you can play without an
+effort of thought; and dishes dressed by a French cook, smoking hot
+under your nose, from morning till night; while any rain we have is
+either made of lemonade or lavender-water, and in winter it generally
+snows iced punch for an hour during the forenoon."
+
+Nobody need be told which fairy Master No-book preferred, and quite
+charmed at his own good fortune in receiving so agreeable an
+invitation, he eagerly gave his hand to the splendid new acquaintance
+who promised him so much pleasure and ease, and gladly proceeded in a
+carriage lined with velvet, stuffed with downy pillows, and drawn by
+milk-white swans, to that magnificent residence, Castle Needless,
+which was lighted by a thousand windows during the day, and by a
+million of lamps every night.
+
+Here Master No-book enjoyed a constant holiday and a constant feast,
+while a beautiful lady covered with jewels was ready to tell him
+stories from morning till night, and servants waited to pick up his
+playthings if they fell, or to draw out his purse or his
+pocket-handkerchief when he wished to use them.
+
+Thus Master No-book lay dozing for hours and days on rich embroidered
+cushions, never stirring from his place, but admiring the view of
+trees covered with the richest burnt almonds, grottoes of sugar-candy,
+a _jet d'eau_ of champagne, a wide sea which tasted of sugar instead
+of salt, and a bright, clear pond, filled with gold fish that let
+themselves be caught whenever he pleased. Nothing could be more
+complete, and yet, very strange to say, Master No-book did not seem
+particularly happy. This appears exceedingly unreasonable, when so
+much trouble was taken to please him; but the truth is that every day
+he became more fretful and peevish. No sweetmeats were worth the
+trouble of eating, nothing was pleasant to play at, and in the end he
+wished it were possible to sleep all day, as well as all night.
+
+Not a hundred miles from the fairy Do-nothing's palace there lived a
+most cruel monster called the giant Snap-'em-up, who looked, when he
+stood up, like the tall steeple of a great church, raising his head so
+high that he could peep over the loftiest mountains, and was obliged
+to climb up a ladder to comb his own hair.
+
+Every morning regularly this prodigiously great giant walked round the
+world before breakfast for an appetite, after which he made tea in a
+large lake, used the sea as a slop-basin, and boiled his kettle on
+Mount Vesuvius. He lived in great style, and his dinners were most
+magnificent, consisting very often of an elephant roasted whole,
+ostrich patties, a tiger smothered in onions, stewed lions, and whale
+soup; but for a side-dish his greatest favorite consisted of little
+boys, as fat as possible, fried in crumbs of bread, with plenty of
+pepper and salt.
+
+No children were so well fed or in such good condition for eating as
+those in the fairy Do-nothing's garden, who was a very particular
+friend of the giant Snap-'em-up's, and who sometimes laughingly said
+she would give him a license, and call her own garden his "preserve,"
+because she always allowed him to help himself, whenever he pleased,
+to as many of her visitors as he chose, without taking the trouble to
+even count them; and in return for such extreme civility, the giant
+very frequently invited her to dinner.
+
+Snap-'em-up's favorite sport was to see how many brace of little boys
+he could bag in a morning; so, in passing along the streets, he peeped
+into all the drawing-rooms, without having occasion to get upon
+tiptoe, and picked up every young gentleman who was idly looking out
+of the windows, and even a few occasionally who were playing truant
+from school; but busy children seemed always somehow quite out of his
+reach.
+
+One day, when Master No-book felt even more lazy, more idle, and more
+miserable than ever, he lay beside a perfect mountain of toys and
+cakes, wondering what to wish for next, and hating the very sight of
+everything and everybody. At last he gave so loud a yawn of weariness
+and disgust that his jaw very nearly fell out of joint, and then he
+sighed so deeply that the giant Snap-'em-up heard the sound as he
+passed along the road after breakfast, and instantly stepped into the
+garden, with his glass at his eye, to see what was the matter.
+Immediately, on observing a large, fat, overgrown boy, as round as a
+dumpling, lying on a bed of roses, he gave a cry of delight, followed
+by a gigantic peal of laughter, which was heard three miles off, and
+picking up Master No-book between his finger and thumb, with a pinch
+that very nearly broke his ribs, he carried him rapidly towards his
+own castle, while the fairy Do-nothing laughingly shook her head as he
+passed, saying:
+
+"That little man does me great credit. He has only been fed for a
+week, and is as fat already as a prize ox. What a dainty morsel he
+will be! When do you dine to-day, in case I should have time to look
+in upon you?"
+
+On reaching home the giant immediately hung up Master No-book by the
+hair of his head, on a prodigious hook in the larder, having first
+taken some large lumps of nasty suet, forcing them down his throat to
+make him become still fatter, and then stirring the fire, that he
+might be almost melted with heat, to make his liver grow larger. On a
+shelf quite near Master No-book perceived the bodies of six other
+boys, whom he remembered to have seen fattening in the fairy
+Do-nothing's garden, while he recollected how some of them had
+rejoiced at the thoughts of leading a long, useless, idle life, with
+no one to please but themselves.
+
+The enormous cook now seized hold of Master No-book, brandishing her
+knife with an aspect of horrible determination, intending to kill him,
+while he took the trouble of screaming and kicking in the most
+desperate manner, when the giant turned gravely round, and said that,
+as pigs were considered a much greater dainty when whipped to death
+than killed in any other way, he meant to see whether children might
+not be improved by it also; therefore she might leave that great hog
+of a boy till he had time to try the experiment, especially as his own
+appetite would be improved by the exercise. This was a dreadful
+prospect for the unhappy prisoner, but meantime it prolonged his life
+a few hours, as he was immediately hung up in the larder and left to
+himself. There, in torture of mind and body, like a fish upon a hook,
+the wretched boy began at last to reflect seriously upon his former
+ways, and to consider what a happy home he might have had, if he could
+only have been satisfied with business and pleasure succeeding each
+other, like day and night, while lessons might have come in as a
+pleasant sauce to his play-hours, and his play-hours as a sauce to his
+lessons.
+
+In the midst of many reflections, which were all very sensible, though
+rather too late, Master No-book's attention became attracted by the
+sound of many voices laughing, talking, and singing, which caused him
+to turn his eyes in a new direction, when, for the first time, he
+observed that the fairy Teach-all's garden lay upon a beautiful
+sloping bank not far off. There a crowd of merry, noisy, rosy-cheeked
+boys were busily employed, and seemed happier than the day was long,
+while poor Master No-book watched them during his own miserable hours,
+envying the enjoyment with which they raked the flower-borders,
+gathered the fruit, carried baskets of vegetables to the poor, worked
+with carpenter's tools, drew pictures, shot with bows-and-arrows,
+played at cricket, and then sat in the sunny arbors learning their
+tasks, or talking agreeably together, till at length, a dinner-bell
+having been rung, the whole party sat merrily down with hearty
+appetites and cheerful good humor, to an entertainment of plain roast
+meat and pudding, where the fairy Teach-all presided herself, and
+helped her guests moderately to as much as was good for each.
+
+Large tears rolled down the cheeks of Master No-book while watching
+this scene, and remembering that if he had known what was best for
+him, he might have been as happy as the happiest of these excellent
+boys, instead of suffering ennui and weariness, as he had done at the
+fairy Do-nothing's, ending in a miserable death. But his attention was
+soon after most alarmingly roused by hearing the giant Snap-'em-up
+again in conversation with his cook, who said that, if he wished for a
+good large dish of scolloped children at dinner, it would be necessary
+to catch a few more, as those he had already provided would scarcely
+be a mouthful.
+
+As the giant kept very fashionable hours, and always waited dinner for
+himself till nine o'clock, there was still plenty of time; so, with a
+loud grumble about the trouble, he seized a large basket in his hand,
+and set off at a rapid pace towards the fairy Teach-all's garden. It
+was very seldom that Snap-'em-up ventured to think of foraging in this
+direction, as he never once succeeded in carrying off a single captive
+from the enclosure, it was so well fortified and so bravely defended;
+but on this occasion, being desperately hungry, he felt as bold as a
+lion, and walked, with outstretched hands, straight towards the fairy
+Teach-all's dinner-table, taking such prodigious strides that he
+seemed almost as if he would trample on himself.
+
+A cry of consternation arose the instant this tremendous giant
+appeared, and, as usual on such occasions, when he had made the same
+attempt before, a dreadful battle took place. Fifty active little boys
+bravely flew upon the enemy, armed with their dinner-knives, and
+looked like a nest of hornets, stinging him in every direction, till
+he roared with pain, and would have run away; but the fairy Teach-all,
+seeing his intention, rushed forward with the carving-knife, and
+brandishing it high over her head, she most courageously stabbed him
+to the heart.
+
+If a great mountain had fallen to the earth it would have seemed like
+nothing in comparison with the giant Snap-em-up, who crushed two or
+three houses to powder beneath him, and upset several fine monuments
+that were to have made people remembered for ever. But all this would
+have seemed scarcely worth mentioning had it not been for a still
+greater event which occurred on the occasion, no less than the death
+of the fairy Do-nothing, who had been indolently looking on at this
+great battle without taking the trouble to interfere, or even to care
+who was victorious; but being also lazy about running away, when the
+giant fell, his sword came with so violent a stroke on her head that
+she instantly expired.
+
+Thus, luckily for the whole world, the fairy Teach-all got possession
+of immense property, which she proceeded without delay to make the
+best use of in her power.
+
+In the first place, however, she lost no time in liberating Master
+No-book from his hook in the larder, and gave him a lecture on
+activity, moderation, and good conduct, which he never afterwards
+forgot; and it was astonishing to see the change that took place
+immediately in his whole thoughts and actions. From this very hour
+Master No-book became the most diligent, active, happy boy in the
+fairy Teach-all's garden; and on returning home a month afterwards, he
+astonished all the masters at school by his extraordinary reformation.
+The most difficult lessons were a pleasure to him, he scarcely ever
+stirred without a book in his hand, never lay on a sofa again, would
+scarcely even sit on a chair with a back to it, but preferred a
+three-legged stool, detested holidays, never thought any exertion a
+trouble, preferred climbing over the top of a hill to creeping round
+the bottom, always ate the plainest food in very small quantities,
+joined a temperance society, and never tasted a morsel till he had
+worked very hard and got an appetite.
+
+Not long after this an old uncle, who had formerly been ashamed of
+Master No-book's indolence and gluttony, became so pleased at the
+wonderful change that on his death he left him a magnificent estate,
+desiring that he should take his name; therefore, instead of being
+any longer one of the No-book family, he is now called Sir Timothy
+Blue-stocking, a pattern to the whole country around for the good he
+does to everyone, and especially for his extraordinary activity,
+appearing as if he could do twenty things at once. Though generally
+very good-natured and agreeable, Sir Timothy is occasionally observed
+in a violent passion, laying about him with his walking-stick in the
+most terrific manner, and beating little boys within an inch of their
+lives; but on inquiry it invariably appears that he has found them out
+to be lazy, idle, or greedy; for all the industrious boys in the
+parish are sent to get employment from him, while he assures them that
+they are far happier breaking stones on the road than if they were
+sitting idly in a drawing-room with nothing to do.
+
+
+
+
+THE INQUISITIVE GIRL
+
+
+Dr. Hammond was a physician in great practice in the West of England.
+He resided in a small market-town and his family consisted of one son,
+named Charles, and two daughters, Louisa and Sophy.
+
+Sophy possessed many amiable qualities, and did not want for sense,
+but every better feeling was lost in her extreme inquisitiveness. Her
+faculties were all occupied in peeping and prying about, and, provided
+she could gratify her own curiosity, she never cared how much vexation
+she caused to others.
+
+This propensity began when she was so very young that it had become a
+habit before her parents perceived it. She was a very little creature
+when she was once nearly squeezed to death between two double doors as
+she was peeping through the keyhole of one of them to see who was in
+the drawing-room; and another time she was locked up for several hours
+in a closet in which she had hid herself for the purpose of
+overhearing what her mother was saying to one of the servants.
+
+When Sophy was eleven and her sister about sixteen years old their
+mother died. Louisa was placed at the head of her father's house, and
+the superintendence of Sophy's education necessarily devolved on her.
+The care of such a family was a great charge for a young person of
+Miss Hammond's age, and more especially as her father was obliged to
+be so much from home that she could not always have his counsel and
+advice even when she most needed it. By this means she fell into an
+injudicious mode of treating her sister.
+
+If Louisa received a note she carefully locked it up, and never spoke
+of its contents before Sophy. If a message was brought to her she
+always went out of the room to receive it, and never suffered the
+servant to speak in her sister's hearing. When any visitors came
+Louisa commonly sent Sophy out of the room, or if they were intimate
+friends she would converse with them in whispers; in short, it was her
+chief study that everything which passed in the family should be a
+secret from Sophy. Alas! this procedure, instead of repressing Sophy's
+curiosity, only made it the more keen; her eyes and ears were always
+on the alert, and what she could not see, hear, or thoroughly
+comprehend she made out by guesses.
+
+The worst consequence of Louisa's conduct was that as Sophy had no
+friend and companion in her sister, who treated her with such constant
+suspicion and reserve, she necessarily was induced to find a friend
+and companion among the servants, and she selected the housemaid
+Sally, a good-natured, well-intentioned girl, but silly and ignorant
+and inquisitive like herself, and it may be easily supposed how much
+mischief these two foolish creatures occasioned, not only in the
+family, but also among their neighbors.
+
+It happened soon after, that for an offence which was the cause of
+very great vexation to her brother, and was the occasion of his being
+for a time deprived of the friendship of Sir Henry and Lady Askham,
+two of Dr. Hammond's nearest and most intimate neighbors, her father
+ordered Sophy, as a still further punishment, to be locked up in her
+own room till the Sunday following. This was on Friday, and Sophy had
+two days of solitude and imprisonment before her. The first day she
+passed very dismally, but yet not unprofitably, for she felt truly
+ashamed and sorry for her fault, and made many good resolutions of
+endeavoring to cure herself of her mischievous propensity. The second
+day she began to be somewhat more composed, and by degrees she was
+able to amuse herself with watching the people in the street, which
+was overlooked by the windows of her apartment, and she began, almost
+unconsciously to herself, to indulge in her old habit of trying to
+find out what everybody was doing, and in guessing where they were
+going.
+
+She had not long been engaged in watching her neighbors before her
+curiosity was excited by the appearance of a servant on horseback, who
+rode up to the door, and, after giving a little three-cornered note to
+Dr. Hammond's footman, rode off. The servant she knew to be Mrs.
+Arden's, an intimate friend of her father, and the note she
+conjectured was an invitation to dinner, and the guessing what day the
+invitation was for, and who were to be the company, and whether she
+was included in the invitation, was occupying her busy fancy, when she
+saw her sister going out of the house with the three-cornered note in
+her hand, and cross the street to Mr. McNeal's stocking shop, which
+was opposite. Almost immediately afterwards Mr. McNeal's shopman came
+out of the shop, and, running down the street, was presently out of
+sight, but soon returned with Mr. McNeal himself. She saw Louisa
+reading the note to Mr. McNeal, and in a few minutes afterwards return
+home. Here was a matter of wonder and conjecture. Sophy forgot all her
+good resolutions, and absolutely wearied herself with her useless
+curiosity.
+
+At length the term of her imprisonment was over, and Sophy was
+restored to the society of her family. At first she kept a tolerable
+guard over herself. Once she saw her father and sister whispering, and
+did not, though she longed much to do it, hold her breath that she
+might hear what they were saying. Another time she passed Charles's
+door when it was ajar and the little study open, and she had so much
+self-command that she passed by without peeping in, and she began to
+think she was cured of her faults. But in reality this was far from
+being the case, and whenever she recollected Mrs. Arden's mysterious
+note she felt her inquisitive propensities as strong as ever. Her eyes
+and ears were always on the alert, in hopes of obtaining some clue to
+the knowledge she coveted, and if Mrs, Arden's or Mr. McNeal's names
+were mentioned she listened with trembling anxiety in the hope of
+hearing some allusion to the note.
+
+At last, when she had almost given up the matter in despair, an
+unlooked-for chance put her in possession of a fragment of this very
+note to which she attached so much importance.
+
+One day Louisa wanted to wind a skein of silk, and in looking for a
+piece of paper to wind it upon she opened her writing-box, and took
+out Mrs. Arden's note. Sophy knew it again in an instant from its
+three-cornered shape. She saw her sister tear the note in two, throw
+one-half under the grate, and fold the other part up to wind her silk
+upon. Sophy kept her eye upon the paper that lay under the grate in
+the greatest anxiety, lest a coal should drop upon it and destroy it,
+when it seemed almost within her grasp. Louisa was called out of the
+room, and Sophy, overpowered by the greatness of the temptation,
+forgot all the good resolutions she had so lately made, and at the
+risk of setting fire to her sleeve, snatched the paper from among the
+ashes, and concealed it in her pocket. She then flew to her own room
+to examine it at her ease. The note had been torn the lengthway of the
+paper, and that part of it of which Sophy had possessed herself
+contained the first half of each line of the note. Bolting her door
+for fear of interruption, she read, with trembling impatience, as
+follows:
+
+        Will you
+  be kind enough to go to
+  Mr. McNeal, and tell him
+  he has made a great mistake
+  the last stockings he sent;
+  charging them as silk) he has cheated
+  of several pounds.--I am sorry to say
+  that he has behaved very ill
+  And Mr. Arden tells me that
+  it must end in his being hanged
+  I am exceedingly grieved
+  but fear this will be the end
+
+When Sophy had read these broken sentences she fancied that she fully
+comprehended the purport of the whole note, and she now saw the reason
+of her sister's hastening to Mr. McNeal's immediately on the receipt
+of the note, and of the hurry in which he had been summoned back to
+his shop. It appeared very clear to her that he had defrauded Mrs.
+Arden of a considerable sum of money, and that he was no longer that
+honest tradesman he had been supposed. The weight of this important
+discovery quite overburdened her, and, forgetful of her past
+punishment, and regardless of future consequences, she imparted the
+surprising secret to Sally. Sally was not one who could keep such a
+piece of news to herself; it was therefore soon circulated through
+half the town that Mr. McNeal had defrauded Mrs. Arden, and that Mr.
+Arden declared he would have him hanged for it. Several persons in
+consequence avoided Mr. McNeal's shop, who saw his customers forsaking
+him without being able to know why they did so. Thus the conduct of
+this inconsiderate girl took away the good name of an honest
+tradesman, on no better foundation than her own idle conjectures,
+drawn from the torn fragments of a letter.
+
+Mr. McNeal at length became informed of the injurious report that was
+circulated about him. He immediately went to Mrs. Arden to tell her of
+the report, and to ask her if any inadvertency of his own in regard to
+her dealings at his shop occasioned her speaking so disadvantageously
+of him. Mrs. Arden was much astonished at what he told her, as she
+might well be, and assured him that she had never either spoken of him
+or thought of him but as thoroughly an honorable and honest tradesman.
+Mrs. Arden was exceedingly hurt that her name should be attached to
+such a cruel calumny, and, on consulting with Sir Henry Askham, it was
+agreed that he and Mrs. Arden should make it their business to trace
+it back to its authors. They found no real difficulty in tracing it
+back to Sally, Dr. Hammond's servant. She was accordingly sent for to
+Mr. McNeal's, where Sir Henry Askham and Mr. Arden, with some other
+gentlemen, were assembled on this charitable investigation. Sally, on
+being questioned who had told her of the report, replied, without
+hesitation, that she had been told by Miss Sophy, who had seen all the
+particulars in Mrs. Arden's handwriting.
+
+Mr. Arden was greatly astonished at hearing this assertion, and felt
+confident that the whole must have originated from some strange
+blunder. He and the other gentlemen immediately proceeded to Dr.
+Hammond's, and having explained their business to him, desired to see
+Sophy. She, on being asked, confirmed what Sally had said, adding that
+to satisfy them she could show them Mrs. Arden's own words, and she
+accordingly produced the fragment of the note. Miss Hammond, the
+instant she saw the paper recollected it again, and winding off the
+silk from the other half of Mrs. Arden's note, presented it to Mr.
+Arden, who, laying the two pieces of paper together read as follows:
+
+     "MY DEAR MISS HAMMOND,--Will you as soon as you receive this
+     be kind enough to go to your opposite neighbor, Mr. McNeal,
+     and tell him I find by looking at his bill he has made a
+     great mistake as to the price of the last stockings he sent;
+     and it seems to me (by not charging them as silk) he has
+     cheated himself, as he'll see, of several pounds.--I am sorry
+     to say of our new dog, that he has behaved very ill and
+     worried two sheep, and Mr. Arden tells me he very much fears
+     it must end in his being hanged or he'll kill all the flock.
+     I am exceedingly grieved, for he is a noble animal, but fear
+     this will be the end of my poor dog.
+
+     "I am, dear Louisa, yours truly
+
+     "MARY ARDEN."
+
+Thus by the fortunate preservation of the last half of the note the
+whole affair was cleared up, Mrs. Arden's character vindicated from
+the charge of being a defamer, and Mr. McNeal from all suspicion of
+dishonesty. And all their friends were pleased and satisfied. But how
+did Sophy feel? She did feel at last both remorse and humiliation. She
+had no one to blame but herself; she had no one to take her part, for
+even her father and her brother considered it due to public justice
+that she should make a public acknowledgment of her fault to Mr.
+McNeal, and to ask his pardon.
+
+
+
+
+BUSY IDLENESS
+
+By JANE TAYLOR
+
+
+Mrs. Dawson being obliged to leave home for six weeks, her daughters,
+Charlotte and Caroline, received permission to employ the time of her
+absence as they pleased; that is, she did not require of them the
+usual strict attention to particular hours and particular studies, but
+allowed them to choose their own employments--only recommending them
+to make a good use of the license, and apprising them, that, on her
+return, she should require an exact account of the manner in which the
+interval had been employed.
+
+The carriage that conveyed their mother away was scarcely out of
+hearing, when Charlotte, delighted with her freedom, hastened upstairs
+to the schoolroom, where she looked around on books, globes, maps,
+drawings, to select some new employment for the morning. Long before
+she had decided upon any, her sister had quietly seated herself at her
+accustomed station, thinking that she could do nothing better than
+finish the French exercise she had begun the day before. Charlotte,
+however, declined attending to French that day, and after much
+indecision, and saying "I have a great mind to" three several times
+without finishing the sentence, she at last took down a volume of
+Cowper, and read in different parts for about half an hour. Then
+throwing it aside, she said she had a great mind to put the
+bookshelves in order--a business which she commenced with great
+spirit. But in the course of her laudable undertaking, she met with a
+manuscript in shorthand; whereupon she exclaimed to her sister,
+"Caroline, don't you remember that old Mr. Henderson once promised he
+would teach us shorthand? How much I should like to learn! Only, mamma
+thought we had not time. But now, this would be such a good
+opportunity. I am sure I could learn it well in six weeks; and how
+convenient it would be! One could take down sermons, or anything; and
+I could make Rachel learn, and then how very pleasant it would be to
+write to each other in shorthand! Indeed, it would be convenient in a
+hundred ways." So saying, she ran upstairs, without any further delay,
+and putting on her hat and spencer, set off to old Mr. Henderson's.
+
+Mr. Henderson happened to be at dinner. Nevertheless, Charlotte
+obtained admittance on the plea of urgent business; but she entered
+his apartment so much out of breath, and in such apparent agitation,
+that the old gentleman, rising hastily from table, and looking
+anxiously at her over his spectacles, inquired in a tremulous tone
+what was the matter. When, therefore, Charlotte explained her
+business, he appeared a little disconcerted; but having gently
+reproved her for her undue eagerness, he composedly resumed his knife
+and fork, though his hand shook much more than usual during the
+remainder of his meal. However, being very good-natured, as soon as he
+had dined he cheerfully gave Charlotte her first lesson in shorthand,
+promising to repeat it regularly every morning.
+
+Charlotte returned home in high glee. She at this juncture considered
+shorthand as one of the most useful, and decidedly the most
+interesting of acquirements; and she continued to exercise herself in
+it all the rest of the day. She was exceedingly pleased at being able
+already to write two or three words which neither her sister nor even
+her father could decipher. For three successive mornings Charlotte
+punctually kept her appointment with Mr. Henderson; but on the fourth
+she sent a shabby excuse to her kind master; and, if the truth must be
+told, he from that time saw no more of his scholar. Now the cause of
+this desertion was twofold: first, and principally, her zeal for
+shorthand, which for the last eight-and-forty hours had been sensibly
+declining in its temperature, was, on the above morning, within half a
+degree of freezing point; and, second, a new and far more arduous and
+important undertaking had by this time suggested itself to her mind.
+Like many young persons of desultory inclinations, Charlotte often
+amused herself with writing verses; and it now occurred to her that an
+abridged history of England in verse was still a desideratum in
+literature. She commenced this task with her usual diligence; but was
+somewhat discouraged in the outset by the difficulty of finding a
+rhyme to Saxon, whom she indulged the unpatriotic wish that the Danes
+had laid a tax on. But, though she got over this obstacle by a new
+construction of the line, she found these difficulties occur so
+continually that she soon felt a more thorough disgust at this
+employment than at the preceding one. So the epic stopped short, some
+hundred years before the Norman conquest. Difficulty, which quickens
+the ardor of industry, always damps, and generally extinguishes, the
+false zeal of caprice and versatility.
+
+Charlotte's next undertaking was, to be sure, a rapid descent from the
+last in the scale of dignity. She now thought, that, by working very
+hard during the remainder of the time, she should be able to
+accomplish a patch-work counterpane, large enough for her own little
+tent bed; and the ease of this employment formed a most agreeable
+contrast in her mind with the extreme difficulty of the last.
+Accordingly, as if commissioned with a search warrant, she ransacked
+all her mother's drawers, bags, and bundles in quest of new pieces;
+and these spoils proving very insufficient, she set off to tax all her
+friends, and to tease all the linen drapers in the town for their odds
+and ends, urging that she wanted some particularly. As she was posting
+along the street on this business, she espied at a distance a person
+whom she had no wish to encounter, namely, old Mr. Henderson. To avoid
+the meeting she crossed over. But this maneuver did not succeed; for
+no sooner had they come opposite to each other, than, to her great
+confusion, he called out across the street, in his loud and tremulous
+voice, and shaking his stick at her, "How d'ye do, Miss Shorthand? I
+thought how it would be! Oh, fie! Oh, fie!"
+
+Charlotte hurried on; and her thoughts soon returned to the idea of
+the splendid radiating star which she designed for the centerpiece of
+her counterpane. While she was arranging the different patterns, and
+forming the alternations of light and shade, her interest continued
+nearly unabated; but when she came to the practical part of sewing
+piece to piece with unvarying sameness, it began, as usual, to flag.
+She sighed several times, and cast many disconsolate looks at the
+endless hexagons and octagons, before she indulged any distinct idea
+of relinquishing her task. At length, however, it did forcibly occur
+to her that, after all, she was not obliged to go on with it; and
+that, really, patchwork was a thing that was better done by degrees,
+when one happens to want a job, than to be finished all at once. So,
+with this thought (which would have been a very good one if it had
+occurred in proper time), she suddenly drew out her needle, thrust all
+her pieces, arranged and unarranged, into a drawer, and began to
+meditate a new project.
+
+Fortunately, just at this juncture some young ladies of their
+acquaintance called upon Charlotte and Caroline. They were attempting
+to establish a society among their young friends for working for the
+poor, and came to request their assistance. Caroline very cheerfully
+entered into the design; but as for Charlotte, nothing could exceed
+the forwardness of her zeal. She took it up so warmly that Caroline's
+appeared, in comparison, only lukewarm. It was proposed that each
+member of the society should have an equal proportion of the work to
+do at her own house; but when the articles came to be distributed,
+Charlotte, in the heat of her benevolence, desired that a double
+portion might be allotted to her. Some of the younger ones admired her
+industrious intentions, but the better judging advised her not to
+undertake too much at once. However, she would not be satisfied till
+her request was complied with. When the parcels of work arrived,
+Charlotte with exultation seized the larger one, and without a
+minute's delay commenced her charitable labors. The following morning
+she rose at four o'clock, to resume the employment; and not a little
+self-complacency did she feel, when, after nearly two hours' hard
+work, she still heard Caroline breathing in a sound sleep. But, alas!
+Charlotte soon found that work is work, of whatever nature, or for
+whatever purpose. She now inwardly regretted that she had asked for
+more than her share; and the cowardly thought that after all she was
+not obliged to do it next occurred to her. For the present, therefore,
+she squeezed all the things, done and undone, into what she called
+her "Dorcas bag;" and to banish unpleasant thoughts, she opened the
+first book that happened to lie within reach. It proved to be "An
+Introduction to Botany." Of this she had not read more than a page and
+a half before she determined to collect some specimens herself; and
+having found a blank copy-book she hastened into the garden, where,
+gathering a few common flowers, she proceeded to dissect them, not, it
+is to be feared, with much scientific nicety. Perhaps as many as three
+pages of this copy-book were bespread with her specimens before she
+discovered that botany was a dry study.
+
+It would be too tedious to enumerate all the subsequent ephemeral
+undertakings which filled up the remainder of the six weeks. At the
+expiration of that time Mrs. Dawson returned. On the next morning
+after her arrival she reminded her daughters of the account she
+expected of their employments during her absence, and desired them to
+set out on two tables in the schoolroom everything they had done that
+could be exhibited, together with the books they had been reading.
+Charlotte would gladly have been excused her part of the exhibition;
+but this was not permitted; and she reluctantly followed her sister to
+make the preparation.
+
+When the two tables were spread, their mother was summoned to attend.
+Caroline's, which was first examined, contained, first, her various
+exercises in the different branches of study, regularly executed the
+same as usual. And there were papers placed in the books she was
+reading in school hours, to show how far she had proceeded in them.
+Besides these, she had read in her leisure time, in French, Florian's
+"Numa Pompilius," and in English, Mrs. More's "Practical Piety," and
+some part of Johnson's "Lives of the Poets." All the needlework which
+had been left to do or not, at her option, was neatly finished; and
+her parcel of linen for the poor was also completely and well done.
+The only instance in which Caroline had availed herself of her
+mother's license, was that she had prolonged her drawing lessons a
+little every day, in order to present her mother with a pretty pair of
+screens, with flowers copied from nature. These were, last of all,
+placed on the table with an affectionate note, requesting her
+acceptance of them.
+
+Mrs. Dawson, having carefully examined this table, proceeded to the
+other, which was quite piled up with different articles. Here, amid
+the heap, were Charlotte's three pages of shorthand; several scraps of
+paper containing fragments of her poetical history; the piece (not
+large enough for a doll's cradle) of her patchwork counterpane; her
+botanical specimens; together with the large unfinished pile out of
+the Dorcas bag, many of the articles of which were begun, but not one
+quite finished. There was a baby's cap with no border, a frock body
+without sleeves, and the skirt only half hemmed at the bottom; and
+slides, tapes, and buttonholes were all, without exception, omitted.
+After these, followed a great variety of thirds, halves, and quarters
+of undertakings, each perhaps good in itself, but quite useless in its
+unfinished state.
+
+The examination being at length ended, Mrs. Dawson retired, without a
+single comment, to her dressing-room; where, in about an hour
+afterwards, she summoned the girls to attend her. Here also were two
+tables laid out, with several articles on each. Their mother then
+leading Caroline to the first, told her that, as the reward of her
+industry and perseverance, the contents of the table were her own.
+Here, with joyful surprise, she beheld, first, a little gold watch,
+which Mrs. Dawson said she thought a suitable present for one who had
+made a good use of her time; a small telescope next appeared; and
+lastly, Paley's "Natural Theology," neatly bound. Charlotte was then
+desired to take possession of the contents of the other table, which
+were considerably more numerous. The first prize she drew out was a
+very beautiful French fan; but upon opening it, it stretched out in an
+oblong shape, for want of the pin to confine the sticks at bottom.
+Then followed a new parasol; but when unfurled there was no catch to
+confine it, so that it would not remain spread. A penknife handle
+without a blade, and the blade without the handle, next presented
+themselves to her astonished gaze. In great confusion she then
+unrolled a paper which discovered a telescope apparently like her
+sister's; but on applying it to her eye, she found it did not contain
+a single lens--so that it was no better than a roll of pasteboard. She
+was, however, greatly encouraged to discover that the last remaining
+article was a watch; for, as she heard it tick, she felt no doubt that
+this at least was complete; but upon examination she discovered that
+there was no hour hand, the minute hand alone pursuing its lonely and
+useless track.
+
+Charlotte, whose conscience had very soon explained to her the moral
+of all this, now turned from the tantalizing table in confusion, and
+burst into an agony of tears. Caroline wept also; and Mrs. Dawson,
+after an interval of silence, thus addressed her daughters:
+
+"It is quite needless for me to explain my reasons for making you such
+presents, Charlotte. I assure you your papa and I have had a very
+painful employment the past hour in spoiling them all for you. If I
+had found on your table in the schoolroom any one thing that had been
+properly finished, you would have received one complete present to
+answer it; but this you know was not the case. I should be very glad
+if this disappointment should teach you what I have hitherto vainly
+endeavored to impress upon you--that as all those things, pretty or
+useful as they are in themselves, are rendered totally useless for
+want of completeness, so exertion without perseverance is no better
+than busy idleness. That employment does not deserve the name of
+industry which requires the stimulus of novelty to keep it going.
+Those who will only work so long as they are amused will do no more
+good in the world, either to themselves or others, than those who
+refuse to work at all. If I had required you to pass the six weeks of
+my absence in bed or in counting your fingers, you would, I suppose,
+have thought it a sad waste of time; and yet I appeal to you whether
+(with the exception of an hour or two of needlework) the whole mass of
+articles on your table could produce anything more useful. And thus,
+my dears, may life be squandered away, in a succession of busy
+nothings.
+
+"I have now a proposal to make to you. These presents, which you are
+to take possession of as they are, I advise you to lay by carefully.
+Whenever you can show me anything that you have begun, and voluntarily
+finished, you may at the same time bring with you one of these things,
+beginning with those of least value, to which I will immediately add
+the part that is deficient. Thus, by degrees, you may have them all
+completed; and if by this means you should acquire the wise and
+virtuous habit of perseverance, it will be far more valuable to you
+than the richest present you could possibly receive."
+
+
+
+
+THE RENOWNED HISTORY OF LITTLE GOODY TWO-SHOES
+
+Ascribed to OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+All the world must allow that Two-Shoes was not her real name. No; her
+father's name was Meanwell; and he was for many years a considerable
+farmer in the parish where Margery was born; but by the misfortunes
+which he met with in business, and the wicked persecutions of Sir
+Timothy Gripe, and an overgrown farmer called Graspall, he was
+effectually ruined.
+
+The case was thus: The parish of Mould well, where they lived, had for
+many ages been let by the lord of the manor in twelve different farms,
+in which the tenants lived comfortably, brought up large families, and
+carefully supported the poor people who labored for them, until the
+estate by marriage and by death came into the hands of Sir Timothy.
+
+This, gentleman, who loved himself better than all his neighbors,
+thought it was less trouble to write one receipt for his rent than
+twelve; and Farmer Graspall offering to take all the farms as the
+leases expired, Sir Timothy agreed with him, and in process of time he
+was possessed of every farm but that occupied by little Margery's
+father, which he also wanted; for as Mr. Meanwell was a charitable,
+good man, he stood up for the poor at the parish meetings, and was
+unwilling to have them oppressed by Sir Timothy and this avaricious
+farmer. Judge, O kind, humane, and courteous reader, what a terrible
+situation the poor must be in, when this covetous man was perpetual
+overseer, and everything for their maintenance was drawn from his hard
+heart and cruel hand. But he was not only perpetual overseer, but
+perpetual churchwarden; and judge, O ye Christians, what state the
+church must be in, when supported by a man without religion or
+virtue. He was also perpetual surveyor of the highways, and what sort
+of roads he kept up for the convenience of travelers, those best knew
+who have had the misfortune to pass through that parish. Complaints
+indeed were made, but to what purpose are complaints, when brought
+against a man who can hunt, drink, and smoke, without the lord of the
+manor, who is also the justice of peace?
+
+The opposition which Little Margery's father made to this man's
+tyranny gave offense to Sir Timothy, who endeavored to force him out
+of his farm; and, to oblige him to throw up the lease, ordered both a
+brick-kiln and a dog kennel to be erected in the farmer's orchard.
+This was contrary to law, and a suit was commenced, in which Margery's
+father got the better. The same offense was again committed three
+different times, and as many actions brought, in all of which the
+farmer had a verdict, and costs paid him; but notwithstanding these
+advantages, the law was so expensive, that he was ruined in the
+contest, and obliged to give up all he had to his creditors; which
+effectually answered the purpose of Sir Timothy, who erected those
+nuisances in the farmer's orchard with that intention. Ah, my dear
+reader, we brag of liberty, and boast of our laws; but the blessings
+of the one, and the protection of the other, seldom fall to the lot of
+the poor; and especially when a rich man is their adversary. How, in
+the name-of goodness, can a poor wretch obtain redress, when thirty
+pounds are insufficient to try his cause? Where is he to find money to
+fee counsel, or how can he plead his cause himself (even if he was
+permitted) when our laws are so obscure and so multiplied that an
+abridgment of them cannot be contained in fifty volumes folio?
+
+As soon as Mr. Meanwell had called together his creditors, Sir Timothy
+seized for a year's rent, and turned the farmer, his wife, Little
+Margery, and her brother out of doors, without any of the necessaries
+of life to support them.
+
+This elated the heart of Mr. Graspall, this crowned his hopes, and
+filled the measure of his iniquity; for, besides gratifying his
+revenge, this man's overthrow gave him the sole dominion over the
+poor, whom he depressed and abused in a manner too horrible to
+mention.
+
+Margery's father flew into another parish for succor, and all those
+who were able to move left their dwellings and sought employment
+elsewhere, as they found it would be impossible to live under the
+tyranny of two such people. The very old, the very lame, and the blind
+were obliged to stay behind, and whether they were starved, or what
+became of them, history does not say; but the characters of the great
+Sir Timothy, and the avaricious tenant, were so infamous, that nobody
+would work for them by the day, and servants were afraid to engage
+themselves by the year, lest any unforseen accident should leave them
+parishioners in a place where they knew they must perish miserably; so
+that great part of the land lay untilled for some years, which was
+deemed a just reward for such diabolical proceedings.
+
+But what, says the reader, can occasion all this? do you intend this
+for children? Permit me to inform you, that this is not the book, sir,
+mentioned in the title, but an introduction to that book; and it is
+intended, sir, not for that sort of children, but for children of six
+feet high, of which, as my friend has justly observed, there are many
+millions in the kingdom; and these reflections, sir, have been
+rendered necessary by the unaccountable and diabolical scheme which
+many gentlemen now give in to, of laying a number of farms into one,
+and very often a whole parish into one farm; which in the end must
+reduce the common people to a stage of vassalage, worse than that
+under the barons of old, or of the clans in Scotland, and will in time
+depopulate the kingdom. But as you are tired of the subject, I shall
+take myself away, and you may visit Little Margery.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+HOW AND ABOUT LITTLE MARGERY AND HER BROTHER
+
+
+Care and discontent shortened the days of Little Margery's father. He
+was forced from his family, and seized with a violent fever in a place
+where Dr. James's powder was not to be had, and where he died
+miserably. Margery's poor mother survived the loss of her husband but
+a few days, and died of a broken heart, leaving Margery and her little
+brother to the wide world; but, poor woman, it would have melted your
+heart to have seen how frequently she heaved her head, while she lay
+speechless, to survey with languishing looks her little orphans, as
+much as to say, "Do, Tommy, do, Margery, come with me." They cried,
+poor things, and she sighed away her soul; and I hope is happy.
+
+It would both have excited your pity, and have done your heart good,
+to have seen how these two little ones were so fond of each other, and
+how hand in hand they trotted about.
+
+They were both very ragged, and Tommy had no shoes, and Margery had
+but one. They had nothing, poor things, to support them (not being in
+their own parish) but what they picked from the hedges, or got from
+the poor people, and they lay every night in a barn. Their relations
+took no notice of them; no, they were rich, and ashamed to own such a
+poor little ragged girl as Margery, and such a dirty little
+curly-pated boy as Tommy. Our relations and friends seldom take notice
+of us when we are poor; but as we grow rich they grow fond. And this
+will always be the case, while people love money better than they do
+God Almighty. But such wicked folks who love nothing but money, and
+are proud and despise the poor, never come to any good in the end, as
+we shall see by and by.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+HOW AND ABOUT MR. SMITH
+
+
+Mr. Smith was a very worthy clergyman, who lived in the parish where
+Little Margery and Tommy were born; and having a relation come to see
+him, who was a charitable, good man, he sent for these children to
+come to him. The gentleman ordered Little Margery a new pair of shoes,
+gave Mr. Smith some money to buy her clothes, and said he would take
+Tommy and make him a little sailor.
+
+After some days the gentleman intended to go to London, and take
+little Tommy with him, of whom you will know more by and by, for we
+shall at a proper time present you with his history, his travels, and
+adventures.
+
+The parting between these little children was very affecting. Tommy
+cried, and they kissed each other an hundred times: at last Tommy thus
+wiped off her tears with the end of his jacket, and bid her cry no
+more, for that he would come to her again when he returned from sea.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+HOW LITTLE MARGERY OBTAINED THE NAME OF GOODY TWO-SHOES, AND WHAT
+HAPPENED IN THE PARISH
+
+
+As soon as Little Margery got up in the morning, which was very early,
+she ran all round the village, crying for her brother; and after some
+time returned greatly distressed.
+
+However, at this instant, the shoemaker very opportunely came in with
+the new shoes, for which she had been measured by the gentleman's
+order.
+
+Nothing could have supported Little Margery under the affliction she
+was in for the loss of her brother, but the pleasure she took in her
+two shoes. She ran out to Mrs. Smith as soon as they were put on, and
+stroking down her ragged apron thus cried out, "Two shoes, ma'am, see
+two shoes." And so she behaved to all the people she met, and by that
+means obtained the name of Goody Two-Shoes.
+
+Little Margery was very happy in being with Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who
+were very charitable and good to her, and had agreed to bring her up
+with their family: but as soon as that tyrant of the parish, that
+Graspall, heard of her being there, he applied first to Mr. Smith, and
+threatened to reduce his tithes if he kept her; and after that he
+spoke to Sir Timothy, who sent Mr. Smith a peremptory message by his
+servant, that he should send back Meanwell's girl to be kept by her
+relations, and not harbor her in the parish. This so distressed Mr.
+Smith, that he shed tears, and cried, "Lord, have mercy on the poor!"
+
+The prayers of the righteous fly upwards, and reach unto the throne of
+heaven, as will be seen by the sequel.
+
+Mrs. Smith was also greatly concerned at being thus obliged to
+discard poor Little Margery. She kissed her, and cried, as did also
+Mr. Smith; but they were obliged to send her away, for the people who
+had ruined her father could at any time have ruined them.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+HOW LITTLE MARGERY LEARNED TO READ, AND BY DEGREES TAUGHT OTHERS
+
+
+Little Margery saw how good and how wise Mr. Smith was, and concluded
+that this was owing to his great learning, therefore she wanted of all
+things to learn to read. For this purpose she used to meet the little
+boys as they came from school, borrow their books, and sit down and
+read till they returned. By this means she got more learning than any
+of her playmates, and laid the following scheme for instructing those
+who were more ignorant than herself. She found that only the following
+letters were required to spell all the words; but as some of these
+letters are large, and some small, she with her knife cut out of
+several pieces of wood ten sets of each of these:
+
+a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z.
+
+And having got an old spelling book, she made her companions set up
+all the words they wanted to spell, and after that she taught them to
+compose sentences. "You know what a sentence is, my dear. 'I will be
+good' is a sentence; and is made up, as you see, of several words."
+
+I once went her rounds with her, and was highly diverted, as you may
+see, if you please to look into the next chapter.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+HOW LITTLE TWO-SHOES BECAME A TROTTING TUTORESS, AND HOW SHE TAUGHT
+HER YOUNG PUPILS
+
+
+It was about seven o'clock in the morning when we set out on this
+important business, and the first house we came to was Farmer
+Wilson's. Here Margery stopped, and ran up to the door, tap, tap, tap.
+"Who's there?" "Only Little Goody Two-Shoes," answered Margery, "come
+to teach Billy." "Oh! Little Goody," says Mrs. Wilson, with pleasure
+in her face, "I am glad to see you Billy wants you sadly for he has
+learned his lesson." Then out came the little boy. "How do, Doody
+Two-Shoes," says he, not able to speak plain. Yet this little boy had
+learned all his letters; for she threw down this alphabet mixed
+together thus:
+
+b d f h k m o q s u w y x f a c e g i l n p r t v z j,
+
+and he picked them up, called them by their right names, and put them
+all in order thus:
+
+a b c d e f g h i j k i m n o p q r s t u v w x y z.
+
+The next place we came to was Farmer Simpson's.
+
+"Bow, wow, wow," says the dog at the door. "Sirrah," says his
+mistress, "what do you bark at Little Two-Shoes? come in, Madge; here,
+Sally wants you sadly, she has learned all her lesson." "Yes, that's
+what I have," replied the little one, in the country manner: and
+immediately taking the letters she set up these syllables:
+
+  ba be bi bo bu,              ca ce ci co cu,
+
+  da de di do du,              fa fe fi fo fu,
+
+and gave them their exact sounds as she composed them.
+
+After this, Little Two-Shoes taught her to spell words of one
+syllable, and she soon set up pear, plumb, top, ball, pin, puss, dog,
+hog, fawn, buck, doe, lamb, sheep, ram, cow, bull, cock, hen, and many
+more.
+
+The next place we came to was Gaffer Cook's cottage. Here a number of
+poor children were met to learn, who all came round Little Margery at
+once, who having pulled out her letters, asked the little boy next her
+what he had for dinner? Who answered, "Bread" (the poor children in
+many places live very hard). "Well then," says she, "set up the first
+letter." He put up the B, to which the next added r, and the next e,
+the next a, the next d, and it stood thus, Bread.
+
+And what had you, Polly Comb, for your dinner? "Apple Pie," answered
+the little girl; upon which the next in turn set up a great A, the two
+next a p each, and so on, till the two words Apple and Pie were united
+and stood thus, Apple Pie.
+
+The next had potatoes, the next beef and turnips; which were spelled,
+with many others, till the game of spelling was finished. She then set
+them another task, and we proceeded.
+
+The next place we came to was Farmer Thomson's, where there was a
+great many little ones waiting for her.
+
+"So, Little Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes," says one of them, "where have you
+been so long?" "I have been teaching," says she, "longer than I
+intended, and am, I am afraid, come too soon for you now." "No, but
+indeed you are not," replied the other; "for I have got my lesson, and
+so has Sally Dawson, and so has Harry Wilson, and so have we all;" and
+they capered about as if they were overjoyed to see her. "Why, then,"
+says she, "you are all very good, and God Almighty will love you; so
+let us begin our lessons." They all huddled round her, and though at
+the other place they were employed about words and syllables, here we
+had people of much greater understanding who dealt only in sentences.
+
+The letters being brought upon the table, one of the little ones set
+up the following sentence:
+
+"The Lord have mercy upon me, and grant that I may be always good, and
+say my prayers, and love the Lord my God with all my heart, with all
+my soul, and with all my strength; and honor the King and all good men
+in authority under him."
+
+Then the next took the letters, and composed this sentence:
+
+"Lord, have mercy upon me, and grant that I may love my neighbor as
+myself, and do unto all men as I would have them do unto me, and tell
+no lies; but be honest and just in all my dealings."
+
+LESSON FOR THE CONDUCT OF LIFE
+
+  He that would thrive,
+    Must rise by five.
+  He that hath thriven,
+    May lay till seven.
+  Truth may be blamed
+    But can't be shamed.
+  Tell me with whom you go,
+    And I'll tell what you do.
+  A friend in your need,
+    Is a friend indeed.
+  They never can be wise,
+    Who good counsel despise.
+
+As we were returning home, we saw a gentleman, who was very ill,
+sitting under a shady tree at the corner of the rookery. Though ill,
+he began to joke with Little Margery, and said, laughing, "So, Goody
+Two-Shoes, they tell me you are a cunning little baggage; pray can you
+tell me what I shall do to get well?" "Yes, sir," says she, "go to bed
+when your rooks do and get up with them in the morning; earn, as they
+do, every day what you eat, and eat and drink no more than you earn:
+and you'll get health and keep it. What should induce the rooks to
+frequent gentlemen's houses, only but to tell them how to lead a
+prudent life? they never build under cottages or farmhouses, because
+they see that these people know how to live without their admonition.
+
+  "Thus wealth and wit you may improve.
+    Taught by tenants of the grove."
+
+The gentleman, laughing, gave Margery sixpence, and told her she was a
+sensible hussy.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+HOW THE WHOLE PARISH WAS FRIGHTENED
+
+
+Who does not know Lady Ducklington, or who does not know that she was
+buried at this parish church? Well, I never saw a grander funeral in
+all my life; but the money they squandered away would have been better
+laid out in little books for children, or in meat, drink, and clothes
+for the poor.
+
+All the country round came to see the burying, and it was late before
+the corpse was interred. After which, in the night, or rather about
+two o'clock in the morning, the bells were heard to jingle in the
+steeple, which frightened the people prodigiously, who all thought it
+was Lady Ducklington's ghost dancing among the bell ropes. The people
+flocked to Will Dobbins, the clerk, and wanted him to go to see what
+it was; but William said he was sure it was a ghost, and that he would
+not offer to open the door. At length Mr. Long, the rector, hearing
+such an uproar in the village, went to the clerk, to know why he did
+not go into the church, and see who was there. "I go, sir?" says
+William; "why, the ghost would frighten me out of my wits!" Mrs.
+Dobbins, too, cried, and laying hold of her husband, said he should
+not be eat up by the ghost. "A ghost, you blockhead," says Mr. Long,
+in a pet; "did either of you ever see a ghost in a church, or know
+anybody that did?" "Yes," says the clerk, "my father did once in the
+shape of a windmill, and it walked all around the church in a trice,
+with jack boots on, and had a gun by its side, instead of a sword." "A
+fine picture of a ghost, truly," says Mr. Long; "give me the key of
+the church, you monkey, for I tell you there is no such thing now,
+whatever may have been formerly." Then taking the key, he went to the
+church, all the people following him. As soon as he had opened the
+door, what sort of a ghost do you think appeared? Why, Little
+Two-Shoes, who being weary had fallen asleep in one of the pews during
+the funeral service, and was shut in all night. She immediately asked
+Mr. Long's pardon for the trouble she had given him, told him she had
+been locked into the church, and said she should not have rung the
+bells, but that she was very cold, and hearing Farmer Boult's man go
+whistling by with his horses, she was in hopes he would have gone to
+the clerk for the key to let her out.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF ALL THE SPIRITS OR THINGS SHE SAW IN THE
+CHURCH
+
+
+The people were ashamed to ask Little Madge any questions before Mr.
+Long, but as soon as he was gone, they all got round her to satisfy
+their curiosity, and desired she would give them a particular account
+of all that she had heard or seen.
+
+
+HER TALE
+
+
+"I went to the church," said she, "as most of you did last night, to
+see the burying, and, being very weary, I sat me down in Mr. Johns's
+pew, and fell fast asleep. At eleven of the clock I awoke; which I
+believe was in some measure occasioned by the clock's striking, for I
+heard it. I started up, and could not at first tell where I was; but
+after some time I recollected the funeral, and soon found that I was
+shut in the church. It was dismal dark, and I could see nothing; but
+while I was standing in the pew, something jumped up upon me behind,
+and laid, as I thought, its hands over my shoulders. I own I was a
+little afraid at first; however, I considered that I had always been
+constant at prayers, and at church, and that I had done nobody any
+harm, but had endeavored to do what good I could; and then thought I,
+what have I to fear? Yet I kneeled down to say my prayers. As soon as
+I was on my knees, something very cold, as cold as marble, ay, as cold
+as ice, touched my neck, which made me start, however, I continued my
+prayers, and having begged protection from Almighty God, I found my
+spirits come, and I was sensible I had nothing to fear; for God
+Almighty protects not only all those that are good, but also all those
+who endeavor to be good--nothing can withstand the power, and exceed
+the goodness of God Almighty. Armed with the confidence of his
+protection; I walked down the church aisle, when I heard something
+pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat, come after me, and something touched my
+hand, which seemed as cold as a marble monument. I could not think
+what this was, yet I knew that it could not hurt me, and therefore I
+made myself easy; but being very cold, and the church being paved with
+stones, which were very damp, I felt my way, as well as I could, to
+the pulpit; in doing which something rushed by me and almost threw me
+down, However, I was not frightened, for I knew that God Almighty
+would suffer nothing to hurt me.
+
+"At last I found out the pulpit, and having shut the door, I laid me
+down on the mat and cushion to sleep; when something thrust and pulled
+the door, as I thought, for admittance, which prevented my going to
+sleep. At last it cries, 'Bow, wow, wow;' and I concluded it must be
+Mr. Saunderson's dog, which had followed me from their house to
+church; so I opened the door, and called Snip, Snip, and the dog
+jumped upon me immediately. After this, Snip and I lay down together,
+and had a comfortable nap; for when I awoke again it was almost light.
+I then walked up and down all the aisles of the church to keep myself
+warm; and though I went into the vaults, and trod on Lady
+Ducklington's coffin, I saw nothing, and I believe it was owing to the
+reason Mr. Long has given you, namely, that there is no such thing to
+be seen. As to my part, I would as soon lie all night in a church as
+in any other place; and I am sure that any little boy or girl, who is
+good and loves God Almighty, and keeps his commandments, may as safely
+lie in the church, or the churchyard, as anywhere else, if they take
+care not to get cold, for I am sure there are no things either to hurt
+or to frighten them; though any one possessed of fear might have taken
+Neighbor Saunderson's dog with his cold nose for a ghost; and if they
+had not been undeceived, as I was, would never have thought
+otherwise." All the company acknowledged the justness of the
+observation, and thanked Little Two-Shoes for her advice.
+
+
+
+
+REFLECTION
+
+
+After this, my dear children, I hope you will not believe any foolish
+stories that ignorant, weak, or designing people may tell you about
+ghosts; for the tales of ghosts, witches, and fairies are the frolics
+of a distempered brain. No wise man ever saw either of them. Little
+Margery was not afraid; no, she had good sense, and a good conscience,
+which is a cure for all these imaginary evils.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+OF SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED TO LITTLE MARGERY TWO-SHOES IN A BARN,
+MORE DREADFUL THAN THE GHOST IN THE CHURCH; AND HOW SHE RETURNED GOOD
+FOR EVIL TO HER ENEMY, SIR TIMOTHY.
+
+
+Some days after this, a more dreadful accident befell Little Madge.
+She happened to be coming late from teaching, when it rained,
+thundered, and lightened and therefore she took shelter in a farmer's
+barn at a distance from the village. Soon after, the tempest drove in
+four thieves, who not seeing such a little creep-mouse girl as
+Two-Shoes, lay down on the hay next to her, and began to talk over
+their exploits, and to settle plans for future robberies. Little
+Margery, on hearing them, covered herself with straw. To be sure she
+was frightened, but her good sense taught her that the only security
+she had was in keeping herself concealed; therefore she lay very still
+and breathed very softly. About four o'clock these wicked people came
+to a resolution to break both Sir William Dove's house and Sir Timothy
+Gripe's, and by force of arms to carry off all their money, plate, and
+jewels; but as it was thought then too late, they all agreed to defer
+it till the next night. After laying his scheme, they all set out upon
+their pranks, which greatly rejoiced Margery, as it would any other
+little girl in her situation. Early in the morning she went to Sir
+William, and told him the whole of their conversation. Upon which he
+asked her name, then gave her something, and bid her call at his house
+the day following. She also went to Sir Timothy, notwithstanding he
+had used her so ill, for she knew it was her duty to do good for evil.
+As soon as he was informed who she was, he took no notice of her; upon
+which she desired to speak to Lady Gripe, and having informed her
+ladyship of the affair she went away. This lady had more sense than
+her husband which indeed is not a singular case; for instead of
+despising Little Margery and her information, she privately set people
+to guard the house. The robbers divided themselves, and went about the
+time mentioned to both houses, and were surprised by the guards and
+taken. Upon examining these wretches (one of which turned evidence),
+both Sir William and Sir Timothy found that they owed their lives to
+the discovery made by Little Margery; and the first took great notice
+of her and would no longer let her lie in a barn; but Sir Timothy only
+said that he was ashamed to owe his life to the daughter of one who
+was his enemy; so true it is, "That a proud man seldom forgives those
+he has injured."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+HOW LITTLE MARGERY WAS MADE PRINCIPAL OF A COUNTRY COLLEGE
+
+
+Mrs. Williams, who kept a college for instructing little gentlemen and
+ladies in the science of A, B, C, was at this time very old and
+infirm, and wanted to decline this important trust. This being told to
+Sir William Dove, who lived in the parish, he sent for Mrs. Williams,
+and desired she would examine Little Two-Shoes, and see whether she
+was qualified for the office. This was done, and Mrs. Williams made
+the following report in her favor, namely, that Little Margery was the
+best scholar, and had the best head and the best heart of any one she
+had examined. All the country had a great opinion of Mrs. Williams,
+and this character gave them also a great opinion of Mrs. Margery, for
+so we must now call her.
+
+This Mrs. Margery thought the happiest period of her life; but more
+happiness was in store for her. God Almighty heaps up blessings for
+all those who love him, and though for a time he may suffer them to be
+poor, and distressed, and hide his good purposes from human sight, yet
+in the end they are generally crowned with happiness here, and no one
+can doubt their being so hereafter.
+
+
+
+
+THE RENOWNED HISTORY OF MRS. MARGERY TWO-SHOES
+
+PART TWO
+
+
+In the first part of this work the young student has read, and I hope
+with pleasure and improvement, the history of this lady, while she was
+known and distinguished by the name of LITTLE TWO-SHOES. We are now
+come to a period of her life when that name was discarded, and a more
+eminent one bestowed upon her; I mean that of MRS. MARGERY TWO-SHOES;
+for as she was now president of the A, B, C college, it became
+necessary to exalt her in title as in place.
+
+No sooner was she settled in this office, but she laid every possible
+scheme to promote the welfare and happiness of all her neighbors, and
+especially of her little ones, in whom she took great delight; and all
+those whose parents could not afford to pay for their education, she
+taught for nothing but the pleasure she had in their company; for you
+are to observe that they were very good, or were soon made so by her
+good management.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+OF HER SCHOOL, HER USHERS, OR ASSISTANTS, AND HER MANNER OF TEACHING
+
+
+We have already informed the reader, that the school where she taught
+was that which was before kept by Mrs. Williams. The room was very
+large and spacious, and as she knew that nature intended children
+should be always in action, she placed her different letters, or
+alphabets, all round the school, so that every one was obliged to get
+up and fetch a letter, or to spell a word when it came to their turn;
+which not only kept them in health, but fixed the letters and points
+firmly in their minds.
+
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+A SCENE OF DISTRESS IN A SCHOOL
+
+
+It happened one day, when Mrs. Two-Shoes was diverting the children
+after dinner, as she usually did, with some innocent games, or
+entertaining and instructive stories, that a man arrived with the
+melancholy news of Sally Jones's father being thrown from his horse,
+and thought past all recovery; nay, the messenger said, that he was
+seemingly dying when he came away. Poor Sally was greatly distressed,
+as indeed were all in the school, for she dearly loved her father, and
+Mrs. Two-Shoes and all her children dearly loved her.
+
+At this instant something was heard to flap at the window, at which
+the children were surprised; but Mrs. Margery, knowing what it was,
+opened the casement, and drew in a pigeon with a letter.
+
+As soon as he was placed upon the table, he walked up to little Sally,
+and dropping the letter, cried "Co, co, coo;" as much as to say,
+"There, read it."
+
+     "My dear Sally--God Almighty has been very merciful and
+     restored your papa to us again, who is now so well as to be
+     able to sit up. I hear you are a good girl, my dear, and I
+     hope you will never forget to praise the Lord for that his
+     great goodness and mercy to us. What a sad thing it would
+     have been if your father had died, and left both you and me,
+     and little Tommy in distress, and without a friend. Your
+     father sends his blessing with mine. Be good, my dear child,
+     and God Almighty will also bless you, whose blessing is above
+     all things.
+
+     "I am, my dear Sally,
+
+     "Your affectionate mother,
+
+     "MARTHA JONES."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+OF THE AMAZING SAGACITY AND INSTINCT OF A LITTLE DOG
+
+
+Soon after this, a very dreadful accident happened in the school. It
+was on a Thursday morning, I very well remember, when the children
+having learned their lessons soon, she had given them leave to play,
+and they were all running about the school, and diverting themselves
+with the birds and the lamb; at this time the dog, all of a sudden,
+laid hold of his mistress's apron, and endeavored to pull her out of
+the school. She was at first surprised; however, she followed him, to
+see what he intended. No sooner had he led her back into the garden,
+but he ran back, and pulled out one of the children in the same
+manner; upon which she ordered them all to leave the school
+immediately, and they had not been out five minutes before the top of
+the house fell in. What a miraculous deliverance was here! How
+gracious! How good was God Almighty to save all these children from
+destruction, and to make use of such an instrument as a little
+sagacious animal to accomplish his divine will! I should have observed
+that, as soon as they were all in the garden, the dog came leaping
+round them to express his joy, and when the house was fallen, laid
+himself down quietly by his mistress.
+
+Some of the neighbors who saw the school fall, and who were in great
+pain for Margery and her little ones, soon spread the news through the
+village, and all the parents, terrified for their children, came
+crowding in abundance; they had, however, the satisfaction to find
+them all safe, and upon their knees with their mistress, giving God
+thanks for their happy deliverance.
+
+You are not to wonder, my dear reader, that this little dog should
+have more sense than you, or your father, or your grandfather.
+
+Though God Almighty has made man the lord of the creation and endowed
+him with reason; yet in many respects he has been altogether as
+bountiful to other creatures of his forming. Some of the senses of
+other animals are more acute than ours, as we find by daily
+experience.
+
+The downfall of the school was a great misfortune to Mrs. Margery; for
+she not only lost all her books, but was destitute of a place to teach
+in; but Sir William Dove, being informed of this, ordered it to be
+built at his own expense, and till that could be done, Farmer Grove
+was so kind as to let her have his large hall to teach in.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+WHAT HAPPENED AT FARMER GROVE'S, AND HOW SHE GRATIFIED HIM FOR THE USE
+OF HIS ROOM
+
+
+While at Mr. Grove's, which was in the heart of the village, she not
+only taught the children in the daytime, but the farmer's servants and
+all the neighbors to read and write in the evening; and it was a
+constant practice, before they went away, to make them all go to
+prayers and sing psalms. By this means the people grew extremely
+regular, his servants were always at home instead of being at the
+alehouse, and he had more work done than ever. This gave not only Mr.
+Grove, but all the neighbors, a high opinion of her good sense and
+prudent behavior; and she was so much esteemed that the most of the
+differences in the parish were left to her decision; and if a man and
+wife quarreled (which sometimes happened in that part of the kingdom),
+both parties certainly came to her for advice. Everybody knows that
+Martha Wilson was a passionate, scolding jade, and that John her
+husband was a surly, ill-tempered fellow. These were one day brought
+by the neighbors for Margery to talk to them, when they talked before
+her, and were going to blows; but she, stepping between them, thus
+addressed the husband: "John," says she, "you are a man, and ought to
+have more sense than to fly in a passion at every word that is said
+amiss by your wife: and Martha," says she, "you ought to know your
+duty better than to say anything to aggravate your husband's
+resentment. These frequent quarrels arise from the indulgence of your
+violent passions; for I know you both love each other, notwithstanding
+what has passed between you. Now, pray tell me, John, and tell me,
+Martha, when you have had a quarrel over night, are you not both sorry
+for it the next day?" They both declared that they were. "Why, then,"
+says she, "I'll tell you how to prevent this for the future, if you
+promise to take my advice." They both promised her. "You know," says
+she, "that a small spark will set fire to tinder, and that tinder
+properly placed will set fire to a house: an angry word is with you as
+that spark, for you are both as touchy as tinder, and very often make
+your own house too hot to hold you. To prevent this, therefore, and to
+live happily for the future, you must solemnly agree, that if one
+speaks an angry word, the other will not answer, till he or she has
+distinctly called over the alphabet, and the other not reply till he
+has told twenty; by this means your passions will be stifled, and
+reason will have time to take the rule."
+
+This is the best recipe that was ever given for a married couple to
+live in peace. Though John and his wife frequently attempted to
+quarrel afterwards, they never could get their passions to a
+considerable height; for there was something so droll in thus carrying
+on the dispute, that, before they got to the end of the argument, they
+saw the absurdity of it, laughed, kissed, and were friends.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE CASE OF MRS. MARGERY
+
+
+Mrs. Margery was always doing good, and thought she could never
+sufficiently gratify those who had done anything to serve her. These
+generous sentiments naturally led her to consult the interest of Mr.
+Grove, and the rest of her neighbors; and as most of their lands were
+meadow, and they depended much on their hay, which had been for many
+years greatly damaged by the wet weather, she contrived an instrument
+to direct them when to mow their grass with safety, and prevent their
+hay being spoiled. They all came to her for advice, and by that means
+got in their hay without damage, while most of that in the neighboring
+village was spoiled.
+
+This occasioned a very great noise in the country, and so greatly
+provoked were the people who resided in the other parishes, that they
+absolutely sent old Gaffer Goosecap (a busy fellow in other people's
+concerns) to find out evidence against her. The wiseacre happened to
+come to her to school, when she was walking about with a raven on one
+shoulder, a pigeon on the other, a lark on her hand, and a lamb and a
+dog by her side; which indeed made a droll figure, and so surprised
+the man that he cried out, "A witch! a witch! a witch!"
+
+Upon this she, laughing, answered, "a conjurer! a conjurer! a
+conjurer!" and so they parted; but it did not end thus, for a warrant
+was issued out against Mrs. Margery, and she was carried to a meeting
+of the justices.
+
+At the meeting, one of the justices who knew little of life, and less
+of the law, behaved very idly; and, though nobody was able to prove
+anything against her, asked who she could bring to her character. "Who
+can you bring against my character, sir?" says she. "There are people
+enough who would appear in my defense, were it necessary: but I never
+supposed that any one here could be so weak as to believe there was
+any such thing as a witch. If I am a witch, this is my charm; and"
+(laying a barometer or weather-glass on the table) "it is with this,"
+says she, "that I have taught my neighbor to know the state of the
+weather." All the company laughed; and Sir William Dove, who was on
+the bench, asked her accusers how they could be such fools as to think
+there was any such thing as a witch?
+
+After this, Sir William inveighed against the absurd and foolish
+notions which the country people had imbibed concerning witches and
+witchcraft, and having proved that there was no such thing, but that
+all were the effects of folly and ignorance, he gave the court such an
+account of Mrs. Margery, and her virtue, good sense, and prudent
+behavior, that the gentlemen present were enamored with her, and
+returned her public thanks for the great service she had done the
+country. One gentleman in particular, I mean Sir Charles Jones, had
+conceived such a high opinion of her that he offered her a
+considerable sum to take care of his family, and the education of his
+daughter, which, however, she refused; but this gentleman sending for
+her afterwards, when he had a dangerous fit of illness, she went, and
+behaved so prudently in the family, and so tenderly to him and his
+daughter, that he would not permit her to leave his house, but soon
+after made her proposals of marriage. She was truly sensible of the
+honor he intended her, but, though poor, she would not consent to be
+made a lady till he had effectually provided for his daughter; for she
+told him that power was a dangerous thing to be trusted with, and that
+a good man or woman would never throw themselves into the road of
+temptation.
+
+All things being settled, and the day fixed, the neighbors came in
+crowds to see the wedding; for they were all glad that one who had
+been such a good little girl, and was become such a virtuous and good
+woman, was going to be made a lady; but just as the clergyman had
+opened his book, a gentleman richly dressed ran into the church and
+cried, "Stop! stop!" This greatly alarmed the congregation,
+particularly the intended bride and bridegroom, whom he first accosted
+and desired to speak with them apart. After they had been talking some
+little time, the people were greatly surprised to see Sir Charles
+stand motionless, and his bride cry and faint away in the stranger's
+arms. This seeming grief, however, was only a prelude to a flood of
+joy which immediately succeeded; for you must know, gentle reader,
+that this gentleman, so richly dressed, was that identical little boy,
+whom you before saw in the sailor's habit; in short, it was Mrs.
+Margery's brother, who was just come from sea, where he had, after a
+desperate engagement, taken a rich prize; and hearing, as soon as he
+landed, of his sister's intended wedding, had rode post to see that a
+proper settlement was made on her, which she was now entitled to, as
+he himself was both able and willing to give her an ample fortune.
+They soon returned to the communion table, and were married in tears,
+but they were tears of joy.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE TRUE USE OF RICHES
+
+
+About this time she heard that Mr. Smith was oppressed by Sir Timothy
+Gripe and his friend Graspall; upon which she, in conjunction with her
+brother, defended him in Westminster Hall, where Mr. Smith gained a
+verdict. As a justice of the peace he was struck off the list, and no
+longer permitted to act in that capacity. A relation of his who had a
+right to the Mouldwell estate, finding that it was possible to get the
+better at law of a rich man, laid claim to it, brought his action, and
+recovered the whole manor of Mouldwell; and being afterwards inclined
+to sell it, he in consideration of the aid Lady Margery had lent him
+during his distress, made her the first offer, and she purchased the
+whole. This mortified Sir Timothy and his friend Graspall, who
+experienced nothing but misfortunes, and was in a few years so
+dispossessed of his ill-gotten wealth, that his family were reduced to
+seek subsistance from the parish, at which those who had felt the
+weight of his iron hand rejoiced; but Lady Margery desired that his
+children might be treated with care and tenderness; "for they" (says
+she) "are noways accountable for the actions of their father." At her
+first coming into power, she took care to gratify her old friends,
+especially Mr. and Mrs. Smith, whose family she made happy.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF BEST BOOKS OF CLASSIC TALES AND OLD-FASHIONED STORIES
+
+ABBOTT, JACOB _Franconia Stories_
+ABBOTT, JACOB _Jonas Stories_
+ABBOTT, JACOB _Rollo Books_
+ADDISON, STEELE, BUDGELL _Papers of Roger de Coverley_
+AIKIN, JOHN, AND BARBAULD, ANNA LETITIA _Evenings at Home_
+AGUILAR, GRACE _Home Influence_
+AGUILAR, GRACE _The Mother's Recompense_
+ARABIAN NIGHTS
+BARBAULD, MRS. _Juvenile Forget-me-not_
+BARNARD, MRS. CAROLINE _The Parent's Offering_
+BROOKE, HENRY _The Fool of Quality_
+BUNYAN, JOHN _Pilgrim's Progress_
+CERVANTES, MIGUEL _Don Quixote_
+CHAUCER, GEOFFREY _Canterbury Tales_
+DAY, THOMAS _Sandford and Merton_
+DAY, THOMAS _The History of Little Jack_
+DEFOE, DANIEL _Robinson Crusoe_
+EDGEWORTH, MARIA _Parent's Assistant_
+EDGEWORTH, MARIA _Harry and Lucy_
+EDGEWORTH, MARIA _Moral Tales_
+ELIOT, GEORGE _Silas Marner_
+FIELDING, SARAH _The Adventures of David Simple_
+GODWIN, MRS. WILLIAM _The Stories of Old Daniel_
+GOLDSMITH, OLIVER _The Vicar of Wakefield_
+GOODRICH, S.G. _Fagots for the Fireside_
+HOMER _The Iliad_
+HOMER _The Odyssey_
+HOWITT, MARY _Treasury of Tales_
+HUGO, VICTOR _Les Miserables_
+JAMES, G.P.R. _Prince Life_
+LAMB, CHARLES _Mrs. Leicester's School_
+LAMB, CHARLES AND MARY _Tales from Shakespeare_
+LUCAS, E.V. (Ed.) _Old-Fashioned Tales_
+LUCAS, E.V. (Ed.) _Forgotten Tales of Long Ago_
+MARTIN, WILLIAM _Peter Parley's Annual_
+MANT, ALICIA CATHERINE _Tales for Ellen_
+MORE, HANNAH _Coelebs in Search of a Wife_
+PEARSON, MISS _A Few Weeks at Clairmont Castle_
+RASPE, RODOLPH ERIC _The Travels of Baron Munchausen_
+SHERWOOD, MRS. _The Fairchild Family_
+SINCLAIR, KATHERINE _Holiday House_
+SWIFT, JONATHAN _Gulliver's Travels_
+WAKEFIELD, PRISCILLA _Juvenile Anecdotes_
+WYSS, JOHANN RUDOLPH _Swiss Family Robinson_
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG FOLKS TREASURY, VOLUME 3 (OF
+12)***
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