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diff --git a/15560.txt b/15560.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d4684a --- /dev/null +++ b/15560.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21077 @@ +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)*** + + +******* This file should be named 15560.txt or 15560.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/6/15560 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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