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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:47:49 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15933-8.txt b/15933-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9281cb7 --- /dev/null +++ b/15933-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6757 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories of Childhood, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: Stories of Childhood + +Author: Various + +Editor: Rossiter Johnson + +Release Date: May 29, 2005 [EBook #15933] +Last Updated: May 15, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF CHILDHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Ron Swanson + + + + + +LITTLE CLASSICS + +EDITED BY ROSSITER JOHNSON + + + + +STORIES OF CHILDHOOD + + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +_The Riverside Press Cambridge_ + +1914 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & Co. +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +A DOG OF FLANDERS . . . . . . . . . . _Louisa de la Ramé_ (_Ouida_) + +THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER . . . . . _John Ruskin_ + +THE LADY OF SHALOTT . . . . . . . . . _Elizabeth Stuart Phelps_ + +MARJORIE FLEMING . . . . . . . . . . . _John Brown, M.D._ + +LITTLE JAKEY . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Mrs. S. H. DeKroyft_ + +THE LOST CHILD . . . . . . . . . . . . _Henry Kingsley_ + +GOODY GRACIOUS! AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT _John Neal_ + +A FADED LEAF OF HISTORY . . . . . . . _Rebecca Harding Davis_ + +A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR . . . . . . _Charles Dickens_ + + + + +A DOG OF FLANDERS. + +BY OUIDA + + +Nello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world. + +They were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was a +little Ardennois,--Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the +same age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was +already old. They had dwelt together almost all their days; both were +orphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It had +been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of +sympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with their +growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very +greatly. + +Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village,--a Flemish +village a league from Antwerp, set amidst flat breadths of pasture and +corn-lands, with long lines of poplars and of alders bending in the +breeze on the edge of the great canal which ran through it. It had +about a score of houses and homesteads, with shutters of bright green +or sky-blue, and roofs rose-red or black and white, and walls +whitewashed until they shone in the sun like snow. In the centre of the +village stood a windmill, placed on a little moss-grown slope; it was a +landmark to all the level country round. It had once been painted +scarlet, sails and all, but that had been in its infancy, half a +century or more earlier, when it had ground wheat for the soldiers of +Napoleon; and it was now a ruddy brown, tanned by wind and weather. It +went queerly by fits and starts, as though rheumatic and stiff in the +joints from age, but it served the whole neighborhood, which would have +thought it almost as impious to carry grain elsewhere, as to attend any +other religious service than the mass that was performed at the altar +of the little old gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood +opposite to it, and whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night +with that strange, subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs +in the Low Countries seems to gain as an integral part of its melody. + +Within sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth +upward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut +on the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising +in the northeast, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and +spreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, +changeless sea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor +man,--of old Jehan Daas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who +remembered the wars that had trampled the country as oxen tread down +the furrows, and who had brought from his service nothing except a +wound, which had made him a cripple. + +When old Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty, his daughter had died +in the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her +two-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself, +but he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon +became welcome and precious to him. Little Nello--which was but a pet +diminutive for Nicolas--throve with him, and the old man and the little +child lived in the poor little hut contentedly. + +It was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white +as a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded +beans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor,--many +a day they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had +enough; to have had enough to eat would have been to have reached +paradise at once. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, +and the boy was a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-natured +creature; and they were happy on a crust and a few leaves of cabbage, +and asked no more of earth or Heaven; save indeed that Patrasche should +be always with them, since without Patrasche where would they have +been? + +For Patrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary; +their store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and +minister; their only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from +them, they must have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche +was body, brains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was +their very life, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, +and Nello was but a child; and Patrasche was their dog. + +A dog of Flanders,--yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with +wolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the +muscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard +service. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly +from sire to son in Flanders many a century,--slaves of slaves, dogs of +the people, beasts of the shafts and the harness, creatures that lived +straining their sinews in the gall of the cart, and died breaking their +hearts on the flints of the streets. + +Patrasche had been born of parents who had labored hard all their days +over the sharp-set stones of the various cities and the long, +shadowless, weary roads of the two Flanders and of Brabant. He had been +born to no other heritage than those of pain and of toil. He had been +fed on curses and baptized with blows. Why not? It was a Christian +country, and Patrasche was but a dog. Before he was fully grown he had +known the bitter gall of the cart and the collar. Before he had entered +his thirteenth month he had become the property of a hardware-dealer, +who was accustomed to wander over the land north and south, from the +blue sea to the green mountains. They sold him for a small price, +because he was so young. + +This man was a drunkard and a brute. The life of Patrasche was a life +of hell. To deal the tortures of hell on the animal creation is a way +which the Christians have of showing their belief in it. His purchaser +was a sullen, ill-living, brutal Brabantois, who heaped his cart full +with pots and pans and flagons and buckets, and other wares of crockery +and brass and tin, and left Patrasche to draw the load as best he +might, whilst he himself lounged idly by the side in fat and sluggish +ease, smoking his black pipe and stopping at every wineshop or café on +the road. + +Happily for Patrasche--or unhappily--he was very strong: he came of an +iron race, long born and bred to such cruel travail; so that he did not +die, but managed to drag on a wretched existence under the brutal +burdens, the scarifying lashes, the hunger, the thirst, the blows, the +curses, and the exhaustion which are the only wages with which the +Flemings repay the most patient and laborious of all their four-footed +victims. One day, after two years of this long and deadly agony, +Patrasche was going on as usual along one of the straight, dusty, +unlovely roads that lead to the city of Rubens. It was full midsummer, +and very warm. His cart was very heavy, piled high with goods in metal +and in earthenware. His owner sauntered on without noticing him +otherwise than by the crack of the whip as it curled round his +quivering loins. The Brabantois had paused to drink beer himself at +every wayside house, but he had forbidden Patrasche to stop a moment +for a draught from the canal. Going along thus, in the full sun, on a +scorching highway, having eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and, +which was far worse to him, not having tasted water for nearly twelve, +being blind with dust, sore with blows, and stupefied with the +merciless weight which dragged upon his loins, Patrasche, for once, +staggered and foamed a little at the mouth, and fell. + +He fell in the middle of the white, dusty road, in the full glare of +the sun: he was sick unto death, and motionless. His master gave him +the only medicine in his pharmacy,--kicks and oaths and blows with a +cudgel of oak, which had been often the only food and drink, the only +wage and reward, ever offered to him. But Patrasche was beyond the +reach of any torture or of any curses. Patrasche lay, dead to all +appearances, down in the white powder of the summer dust. After a +while, finding it useless to assail his ribs with punishment and his +ears with maledictions, the Brabantois--deeming life gone in him, or +going so nearly that his carcass was forever useless, unless indeed +some one should strip it of the skin for gloves--cursed him fiercely in +farewell, struck off the leathern bands of the harness, kicked his body +heavily aside into the grass, and, groaning and muttering in savage +wrath, pushed the cart lazily along the road up hill, and left the +dying dog there for the ants to sting and for the crows to pick. + +It was the last day before Kermesse away at Louvain, and the Brabantois +was in haste to reach the fair and get a good place for his truck of +brass wares. He was in fierce wrath, because Patrasche had been a +strong and much-enduring animal, and because he himself had now the +hard task of pushing his charette all the way to Louvain. But to stay +to look after Patrasche never entered his thoughts: the beast was dying +and useless, and he would steal, to replace him, the first large dog +that he found wandering alone out of sight of its master. Patrasche had +cost him nothing, or next to nothing, and for two long, cruel years he +had made him toil ceaselessly in his service from sunrise to sunset, +through summer and winter, in fair weather and foul. + +He had got a fair use and a good profit out of Patrasche: being human, +he was wise, and left the dog to draw his last breath alone in the +ditch, and have his bloodshot eyes plucked out as they might be by the +birds, whilst he himself went on his way to beg and to steal, to eat +and to drink, to dance and to sing, in the mirth at Louvain. A dying +dog, a dog of the cart,--why should he waste hours over its agonies at +peril of losing a handful of copper coins, at peril of a shout of +laughter? + +Patrasche lay there, flung in the grass-green ditch. It was a busy road +that day, and hundreds of people, on foot and on mules, in wagons or in +carts, went by, tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain. Some saw +him, most did not even look: all passed on. A dead dog more or +less,--it was nothing in Brabant: it would be nothing anywhere in the +world. + +After a time, amongst the holiday-makers, there came a little old man +who was bent and lame, and very feeble. He was in no guise for +feasting: he was very poorly and miserably clad, and he dragged his +silent way slowly through the dust amongst the pleasure-seekers. He +looked at Patrasche, paused, wondered, turned aside, then kneeled down +in the rank grass and weeds of the ditch, and surveyed the dog with +kindly eyes of pity. There was with him a little rosy, fair-haired, +dark-eyed child of a few years old, who pattered in amidst the bushes, +that were for him breast-high, and stood gazing with a pretty +seriousness upon the poor great, quiet beast. + +Thus it was that these two first met,--the little Nello and the big +Patrasche. + +The upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious +effort, drew the sufferer homeward to his own little hut, which was a +stone's-throw off amidst the fields, and there tended him with so much +care that the sickness, which had been a brain-seizure, brought on by +heat and thirst and exhaustion, with time and shade and rest passed +away, and health and strength returned, and Patrasche staggered up +again upon his four stout, tawny legs. + +Now for many weeks he had been useless, powerless, sore, near to death; +but all this time he had heard no rough word, had felt no harsh touch, +but only the pitying murmurs of the little child's voice and the +soothing caress of the old man's hand. + +In his sickness they two had grown to care for him, this lonely old man +and the little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of +dry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his +breathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he +first was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed +aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure +restoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged +neck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy +lips. + +So then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt, +powerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that +there were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and his +heart awakened to a mighty love, which never wavered once in its +fidelity whilst life abode with him. + +But Patrasche, being a dog, was grateful. Patrasche lay pondering long +with grave, tender, musing brown eyes, watching the movements of his +friends. + +Now, the old soldier, Jehan Daas, could do nothing for his living but +limp about a little with a small cart, with which he carried daily the +milk-cans of those happier neighbors who owned cattle away into the +town of Antwerp. The villagers gave him the employment a little out of +charity,--more because it suited them well to send their milk into the +town by so honest a carrier, and bide at home themselves to look after +their gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But +it was becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and +Antwerp was a good league off, or more. + +Patrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had +got well and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round +his tawny neck. + +The next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart, +arose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles, and +testified as plainly as dumb show could do his desire and his ability +to work in return for the bread of charity that he had eaten. Jehan +Daas resisted long, for the old man was one of those who thought it a +foul shame to bind dogs to labor for which Nature never formed them. +But Patrasche would not be gainsayed: finding they did not harness him, +he tried to draw the cart onward with his teeth. + +At length Jehan Daas gave way, vanquished by the persistence and the +gratitude of this creature whom he had succored. He fashioned his cart +so that Patrasche could run in it, and this he did every morning of his +life thenceforward. + +When the winter came, Jehan Daas thanked the blessed fortune that had +brought him to the dying dog in the ditch that fair-day of Louvain; for +he was very old, and he grew feebler with each year, and he would ill +have known how to pull his load of milk-cans over the snows and through +the deep ruts in the mud if it had not been for the strength and the +industry of the animal he had befriended. As for Patrasche, it seemed +heaven to him. After the frightful burdens that his old master had +compelled him to strain under, at the call of the whip at every step, +it seemed nothing to him but amusement to step out with this little +light green cart, with its bright brass cans, by the side of the gentle +old man who always paid him with a tender caress and with a kindly +word. Besides, his work was over by three or four in the day, and after +that time he was free to do as he would,--to stretch himself, to sleep +in the sun, to wander in the fields, to romp with the young child, or +to play with his fellow-dogs. Patrasche was very happy. + +Fortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken +brawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor +disturbed him in his new and well-loved home. + +A few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, +became so paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to +go out with the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to +his sixth year of age, and knowing the town well from having +accompanied his grandfather so many times, took his place beside the +cart, and sold the milk and received the coins in exchange, and brought +them back to their respective owners with a pretty grace and +seriousness which charmed all who beheld him. + +The little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender +eyes, and a lovely bloom upon his face, and fair locks that clustered +to his throat; and many an artist sketched the group as it went by +him,--the green cart with the brass flagons of Teniers and Mieris and +Van Tal, and the great tawny-colored, massive dog, with his belled +harness that chimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran +beside him which had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a +soft, grave, innocent, happy face like the little fair children of +Rubens. + +Nello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that +Jehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had +no need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see +them go forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and +pray a little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch +for their return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself +free of his harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with +pride the doings of the day; and they would all go in together to their +meal of rye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen +over the great plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral +spire; and then lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man +said a prayer. + +So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and Patrasche +were happy, innocent, and healthful. + +In the spring and summer especially were they glad. Flanders is not a +lovely land, and around the burgh of Rubens it is perhaps least lovely +of all. Corn and colza, pasture and plough, succeed each other on the +characterless plain in wearying repetition, and save by some gaunt gray +tower, with its peal of pathetic bells, or some figure coming athwart +the fields, made picturesque by a gleaner's bundle or a woodman's +fagot, there is no change, no variety, no beauty anywhere; and he who +has dwelt upon the mountains or amidst the forests feels oppressed as +by imprisonment with the tedium and the endlessness of that vast and +dreary level. But it is green and very fertile, and it has wide +horizons that have a certain charm of their own even in their dulness +and monotony; and amongst the rushes by the waterside the flowers grow, +and the trees rise tall and fresh where the barges glide with their +great hulks black against the sun, and their little green barrels and +varicolored flags gay against the leaves. Anyway, there is greenery and +breadth of space enough to be as good as beauty to a child and a dog; +and these two asked no better, when their work was done, than to lie +buried in the lush grasses on the side of the canal, and watch the +cumbrous vessels drifting by and bringing the crisp salt smell of the +sea amongst the blossoming scents of the country summer. + +True, in the winter it was harder, and they had to rise in the darkness +and the bitter cold, and they had seldom as much as they could have +eaten any day, and the hut was scarce better than a shed when the +nights were cold, although it looked so pretty in warm weather, buried +in a great kindly-clambering vine, that never bore fruit, indeed, but +which covered it with luxuriant green tracery all through the months of +blossom and harvest. In winter the winds found many holes in the walls +of the poor little hut, and the vine was black and leafless, and the +bare lands looked very bleak and drear without, and sometimes within +the floor was flooded and then frozen. In winter it was hard, and the +snow numbed the little white limbs of Nello, and the icicles cut the +brave, untiring feet of Patrasche. + +But even then they were never heard to lament, either of them. The +child's wooden shoes and the dog's four legs would trot manfully +together over the frozen fields to the chime of the bells on the +harness; and then sometimes, in the streets of Antwerp, some housewife +would bring them a bowl of soup and a handful of bread, or some kindly +trader would throw some billets of fuel into the little cart as it went +homeward, or some woman in their own village would bid them keep some +share of the milk they carried for their own food; and then they would +run over the white lands, through the early darkness, bright and happy, +and burst with a shout of joy into their home. + +So, on the whole, it was well with them, very well; and Patrasche, +meeting on the highway or in the public streets the many dogs who +toiled from daybreak into nightfall, paid only with blows and curses, +and loosened from the shafts with a kick to starve and freeze as best +they might,--Patrasche in his heart was very grateful to his fate, and +thought it the fairest and the kindliest the world could hold. Though +he was often very hungry indeed when he lay down at night; though he +had to work in the heats of summer noons and the rasping chills of +winter dawns; though his feet were often tender with wounds from the +sharp edges of the jagged pavement; though he had to perform tasks +beyond his strength and against his nature,--yet he was grateful and +content: he did his duty with each day, and the eyes that he loved +smiled down on him. It was sufficient for Patrasche. + +There was only one thing which caused Patrasche any uneasiness in his +life, and it was this. Antwerp, as all the world knows, is full at +every turn of old piles of stones, dark and ancient and majestic, +standing in crooked courts, jammed against gateways and taverns, rising +by the water's edge, with bells ringing above them in the air, and ever +and again out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. There +they remain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amidst the +squalor, the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness and the commerce of +the modern world, and all day long the clouds drift and the birds +circle and the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their +feet there sleeps--RUBENS. + +And the greatness of the mighty Master still rests upon Antwerp, and +wherever we turn in its narrow streets his glory lies therein, so that +all mean things are thereby transfigured; and as we pace slowly through +the winding ways, and by the edge of the stagnant water, and through +the noisome courts, his spirit abides with us, and the heroic beauty of +his visions is about us, and the stones that once felt his footsteps +and bore his shadow seem to arise and speak of him with living voices. +For the city which is the tomb of Rubens still lives to us through him, +and him alone. + +It is so quiet there by that great white sepulchre,--so quiet, save +only when the organ peals and the choir cries aloud the Salve Regina or +the Kyrie Eleison. Sure no artist ever had a greater gravestone than +that pure marble sanctuary gives to him in the heart of his birthplace +in the chancel of St. Jacques. + +Without Rubens, what were Antwerp? A dirty, dusky, bustling mart, which +no man would ever care to look upon save the traders who do business on +its wharves. With Rubens, to the whole world of men it is a sacred +name, a sacred soil, a Bethlehem where a god of Art saw light, a +Golgotha where a god of Art lies dead. + +O nations! closely should you treasure your great men, for by them +alone will the future know of you. Flanders in her generations has been +wise. In his life she glorified this greatest of her sons, and in his +death she magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare. + +Now, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of +stones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs, +the child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through +their dark, arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the +pavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm +which thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion. Once +or twice he did essay to see for himself, clattering up the steps with +his milk-cart behind him; but thereon he had been always sent back +again summarily by a tall custodian in black clothes and silver chains +of office; and fearful of bringing his little master into trouble, he +desisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such +time as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them +which disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all the +village went to the small, tumble-down, gray pile opposite the red +windmill. What troubled him was that little Nello always looked +strangely when he came out, always very flushed or very pale; and +whenever he returned home after such visitations would sit silent and +dreaming, not caring to play, but gazing out at the evening skies +beyond the line of the canal, very subdued and almost sad. + +What was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or +natural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he +tried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the +busy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of +all would he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on +the stones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would +stretch himself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in +vain, until the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, +and winding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on his broad, +tawny-colored forehead, and murmur always the same words: "If I could +only see them, Patrasche!--if I could only see them!" + +What were they? pondered Patrasche, looking up with large, wistful, +sympathetic eyes. + +One day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar, +he got in for a moment after his little friend and saw. "They" were two +great covered pictures on either side of the choir. + +Nello was kneeling, rapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar-picture of +the Assumption, and when he noticed Patrasche, and rose and drew the +dog gently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked +up at the veiled places as he passed them, and murmured to his +companion, "It is so terrible not to see them, Patrasche, just because +one is poor and cannot pay! He never meant that the poor should not see +them when he painted them, I am sure. He would have had us see them any +day, every day: that I am sure. And they keep them shrouded +there,--shrouded in the dark, the beautiful things!--and they never +feel the light, and no eyes look on them, unless rich people come and +pay. If I could only see them, I would be content to die." + +But he could not see them, and Patrasche could not help him, for to +gain the silver piece that the church exacts as the price for looking +on the glories of the Elevation of the Cross and the Descent of the +Cross was a thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it +would have been to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. They had +never so much as a sou to spare: if they cleared enough to get a little +wood for the stove, a little broth for the pot, it was the utmost they +could do. And yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless +longing upon beholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens. + +The whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an +absorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in +the early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who +looked only a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell +from door to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the +god. Nello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, +and the winter winds blowing amongst his curls and lifting his poor +thin garments, was in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw +was the beautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the +waves of her golden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an +eternal sun shining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and +buffeted by fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had +the compensation or the curse which is called Genius. + +No one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed +Patrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon the +stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his +little bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the +spirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face +radiate at the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; +and felt many and many a time the tears of a strange nameless pain and +joy, mingled together, fall hotly from the bright young eyes upon his +own wrinkled, yellow forehead. + +"I should go to my grave quite content if I thought, Nello, that when +thou growest a man thou couldst own this hut and the little plot of +ground, and labor for thyself, and be called Baas by thy neighbors," +said the old man Jehan many an hour from his bed. For to own a bit of +soil, and to be called Baas--master--by the hamlet round, is to have +achieved the highest ideal of a Flemish peasant; and the old soldier, +who had wandered over all the earth in his youth, and had brought +nothing back, deemed in his old age that to live and die on one spot in +contented humility was the fairest fate he could desire for his +darling. But Nello said nothing. + +The same leaven was working in him that in other times begat Rubens and +Jordaens and the Van Eycks, and all their wondrous tribe, and in times +more recent begat in the green country of the Ardennes, where the Meuse +washes the old walls of Dijon, the great artist of the Patroclus, whose +genius is too near us for us aright to measure its divinity. + +Nello dreamed of other things in the future than of tilling the little +rood of earth, and living under the wattle roof, and being called Baas +by neighbors a little poorer or a little less poor than himself. The +cathedral spire, where it rose beyond the fields in the ruddy evening +skies or in the dim, gray, misty mornings, said other things to him +than this. But these he told only to Patrasche, whispering, childlike, +his fancies in the dog's ear when they went together at their work +through the fogs of the daybreak, or lay together at their rest amongst +the rustling rushes by the water's side. + +For such dreams are not easily shaped into speech to awake the slow +sympathies of human auditors; and they would only have sorely perplexed +and troubled the poor old man bedridden in his corner, who, for his +part, whenever he had trodden the streets of Antwerp, had thought the +daub of blue and red that they called a Madonna, on the walls of the +wine-shop where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good +as any of the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled +far and wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone. + +There was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at +all of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at +the old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was +the best-to-do husbandman in all the village. Little Alois was only a +pretty baby with soft round, rosy features, made lovely by those sweet, +dark eyes that the Spanish rule has left in so many a Flemish face, in +testimony of the Alvan dominion, as Spanish art has left broadsown +throughout the country majestic palaces and stately courts, gilded +house-fronts and sculptured lintels,--histories in blazonry and poems +in stone. + +Little Alois was often with Nello and Patrasche. They played in the +fields, they ran in the snow, they gathered the daisies and bilberries, +they went up to the old gray church together, and they often sat +together by the broad wood-fire in the mill-house. Little Alois, +indeed, was the richest child in the hamlet. She had neither brother +nor sister; her blue serge dress had never a hole in it; at Kermesse +she had as many gilded nuts and Agni Dei in sugar as her hands could +hold; and when she went up for her first communion her flaxen curls +were covered with a cap of richest Mechlin lace, which had been her +mother's and her grandmother's before it came to her. Men spoke +already, though she had but twelve years, of the good wife she would be +for their sons to woo and win; but she herself was a little gay, simple +child, in no wise conscious of her heritage, and she loved no +playfellows so well as Jehan Daas's grandson and his dog. + +One day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on +a pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath +had that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the +hay, with the great tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many +wreaths of poppies and blue cornflowers round them both: on a clean +smooth slab of pine wood the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick +of charcoal. + +The miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it +was so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well. +Then he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her mother +needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid; then, +turning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. "Dost do much of such +folly?" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice. + +Nello colored and hung his head. "I draw everything I see," he +murmured. + +The miller was silent; then he stretched his hand out with a franc in +it. "It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time; nevertheless, it is +like Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for +it and leave it for me." + +The color died out of the face of the young Ardennois: he lifted his +head and put his hands behind his back. "Keep your money and the +portrait both, Baas Cogez," he said simply. "You have been often good +to me." Then he called Patrasche to him, and walked away across the +fields. + +"I could have seen them with that franc," he murmured to Patrasche, +"but I could not sell her picture,--not even for them." + +Baas Cogez went into his mill-house sore troubled in his mind. "That +lad must not be so much with Alois," he said to his wife that night. +"Trouble may come of it hereafter: he is fifteen now, and she is +twelve; and the boy is comely of face and form." + +"And he is a good lad and a loyal," said the housewife, feasting her +eyes on the piece of pine wood where it was throned above the chimney +with a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary in wax. + +"Yea, I do not gainsay that," said the miller, draining his pewter +flagon. + +"Then if what you think of were ever to come to pass," said the wife, +hesitatingly, "would it matter so much? She will have enough for both, +and one cannot be better than happy." + +"You are a woman, and therefore a fool," said the miller, harshly, +striking his pipe on the table. "The lad is naught but a beggar, and, +with these painter's fancies, worse than a beggar. Have a care that +they are not together in the future, or I will send the child to the +surer keeping of the nuns of the Sacred Heart." + +The poor mother was terrified, and promised humbly to do his will. Not +that she could bring herself altogether to separate the child from her +favorite playmate, nor did the miller even desire that extreme of +cruelty to a young lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But +there were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her +chosen companion: and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive, +was quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of +Patrasche, as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to +the old red mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know: +he supposed he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the +portrait of Alois in the meadow; and when the child who loved him would +run to him and nestle her hand in his, he would smile at her very sadly +and say with a tender concern for her before himself, "Nay, Alois, do +not anger your father. He thinks that I make you idle, dear, and he is +not pleased that you should be with me. He is a good man and loves you +well: we will not anger him, Alois." + +But it was with a sad heart that he said it, and the earth did not look +so bright to him as it had used to do when he went out at sunrise under +the poplars down the straight roads with Patrasche. The old red mill +had been a landmark to him, and he had been used to pause by it, going +and coming, for a cheery greeting with its people as her little flaxen +head rose above the low mill-wicket, and her little rosy hands had held +out a bone or a crust to Patrasche. Now the dog looked wistfully at a +closed door, and the boy went on without pausing, with a pang at his +heart, and the child sat within with tears dropping slowly on the +knitting to which she was set on her little stool by the stove; and +Baas Cogez, working among his sacks and his mill-gear, would harden his +will and say to himself, "It is best so. The lad is all but a beggar, +and full of idle, dreaming fooleries. Who knows what mischief might not +come of it in the future?" So he was wise in his generation, and would +not have the door unbarred, except upon rare and formal occasions, +which seemed to have neither warmth nor mirth in them to the two +children, who had been accustomed so long to a daily gleeful, careless, +happy interchange of greeting, speech, and pastime, with no other +watcher of their sports or auditor of their fancies than Patrasche, +sagely shaking the brazen bells of his collar and responding with all a +dog's swift sympathies to their every change of mood. + +All this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney +in the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary; and +sometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was +accepted he himself should be denied. + +But he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas +had said ever to him, "We are poor: we must take what God sends,--the +ill with the good: the poor cannot choose." + +To which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his +old grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as +beguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, "Yet the +poor do choose sometimes,--choose to be great, so that men cannot say +them nay." And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when +the little Alois, finding him by chance alone amongst the cornfields by +the canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because +the morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her +life her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in +the great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello +had kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, "It shall be +different one day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that +your father has of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he +will not shut the door against me then. Only love me always, dear +little Alois, only love me always, and I will be great." + +"And if I do not love you?" the pretty child asked, pouting a little +through her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex. + +Nello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the +red and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a +smile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by +it. "I will be great still," he said under his breath,--"great still, +or die, Alois." + +"You do not love me," said the little spoilt child, pushing him away; +but the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the +tall yellow corn, seeing as in a vision some day in a fair future when +he should come into that old familiar land and ask Alois of her people, +and be not refused or denied, but received in honor, whilst the village +folk should throng to look upon him and say in one another's ears, +"Dost see him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the +world speaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who +was a beggar, as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his +dog." And he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and +purples, and portray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in +the chapel of St. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of +Patrasche with a collar of gold, and place him on his right hand, and +say to the people, "This was once my only friend"; and of how he would +build himself a great white marble palace, and make to himself +luxuriant gardens of pleasure, on the slope looking outward to where +the cathedral spire rose, and not dwell in it himself, but summon to +it, as to a home, all men young and poor and friendless, but of the +will to do mighty things; and of how he would say to them always, if +they sought to bless his name, "Nay, do not thank me,--thank Rubens. +Without him, what should I have been?" And these dreams, beautiful, +impossible, innocent, free of all selfishness, full of heroical +worship, were so closely about him as he went that he was happy,--happy +even on this sad anniversary of Alois's saint's day, when he and +Patrasche went home by themselves to the little dark hut and the meal +of black bread, whilst in the mill-house all the children of the +village sang and laughed, and ate the big round cakes of Dijon and the +almond gingerbread of Brabant, and danced in the great barn to the +light of the stars and the music of flute and fiddle. + +"Never mind, Patrasche," he said, with his arms round the dog's neck as +they both sat in the door of the hut, where the sounds of the mirth at +the mill came down to them on the night-air,--"never mind. It shall all +be changed by and by." + +He believed in the future: Patrasche, of more experience and of more +philosophy, thought that the loss of the mill-supper in the present was +ill compensated by dreams of milk and honey in some vague hereafter. +And Patrasche growled whenever he passed by Baas Cogez. + +"This is Alois's name-day, is it not?" said the old man Daas that night +from the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking. + +The boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory +had erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account. + +"And why not there?" his grandfather pursued. "Thou hast never missed a +year before, Nello." + +"Thou art too sick to leave," murmured the lad, bending his handsome +young head over the bed. + +"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does +scores of times. What is the cause, Nello?" the old man persisted. +"Thou surely hast not had ill words with the little one?" + +"Nay, grandfather,--never," said the boy, quickly, with a hot color in +his bent face. "Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this +year. He has taken some whim against me." + +"But thou hast done nothing wrong?" + +"That I know--nothing. I took the portrait of Alois on a piece of pine: +that is all." + +"Ah!" The old man was silent: the truth suggested itself to him with +the boy's innocent answer. He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the +corner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways +of the world were like. + +He drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture. +"Thou art very poor, my child," he said with a quiver the more in his +aged, trembling voice,--"so poor! It is very hard for thee." + +"Nay, I am rich," murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought +so,--rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might +of kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet +autumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars bend +and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were +lighted, and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The +tears fell down his cheeks, for he was but a child, yet he smiled, for +he said to himself, "In the future!" He stayed there until all was +quite still and dark, then he and Patrasche went within and slept +together, long and deeply, side by side. + +Now he had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little +outhouse to the hut, which no one entered but himself,--a dreary place, +but with abundant clear light from the north. Here he had fashioned +himself rudely an easel in rough lumber, and here on a great gray sea +of stretched paper he had given shape to one of the innumerable fancies +which possessed his brain. No one had ever taught him anything; colors +he had no means to buy; he had gone without bread many a time to +procure even the few rude vehicles that he had here; and it was only in +black or white that he could fashion the things he saw. This great +figure which he had drawn here in chalk was only an old man sitting on +a fallen tree,--only that. He had seen old Michel the woodman sitting +so at evening many a time. He had never had a soul to tell him of +outline or perspective, of anatomy or of shadow, and yet he had given +all the weary, worn-out age, all the sad, quiet patience, all the +rugged, careworn pathos of his original, and given them so that the old +lonely figure was a poem, sitting there, meditative and alone, on the +dead tree, with the darkness of the descending night behind him. + +It was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and +yet it was real, true in Nature, true in Art, and very mournful, and in +a manner beautiful. + +Patrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation +after the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a +hope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this +great drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year which +it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent, +scholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with +some unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in +the town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according +to his merits. + +All the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this +treasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward +independence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly, +and yet passionately adored. + +He said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood, +and little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and +whispered, "Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew." + +Patrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he +had never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved +dogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful. + +The drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the +decision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might +rejoice with all his people at the Christmas season. + +In the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now +quick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture on +his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche, +into the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public +building. + +"Perhaps it is worth nothing at all. How can I tell?" he thought, with +the heart-sickness of a great timidity. Now that he had left it there, +it seemed to him so hazardous, so vain, so foolish, to dream that he, a +little lad with bare feet, who barely knew his letters, could do +anything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to +look. Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of +Rubens seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in its +magnificence before him, whilst the lips with their kindly smile seemed +to him to murmur, "Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart and by +faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp." + +Nello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his best: +the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent, +unquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel +amongst the willows and the poplar-trees. + +The winter was very sharp already. That night, after they had reached +the hut, snow fell; and fell for very many days after that, so that the +paths and the divisions in the fields were all obliterated, and all the +smaller streams were frozen over, and the cold was intense upon the +plains. Then, indeed, it became hard work to go round for the milk +while the world was all dark, and carry it through the darkness to the +silent town. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of +the years, that were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were +bringing him old age, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached +often. But he would never give up his share of the labor. Nello would +fain have spared him and drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would +not allow it. All he would ever permit or accept was the help of a +thrust from behind to the truck as it lumbered along through the +ice-ruts. Patrasche had lived in harness, and he was proud of it. He +suffered a great deal sometimes from frost, and the terrible roads, and +the rheumatic pains of his limbs, but he only drew his breath hard and +bent his stout neck, and trod onward with steady patience. + +"Rest thee at home, Patrasche,--it is time thou didst rest,--and I can +quite well push in the cart by myself," urged Nello many a morning; but +Patrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented to +stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was +sounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts, +and plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round +feet had left their print upon so many, many years. + +"One must never rest till one dies," thought Patrasche; and sometimes +it seemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. +His sight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise +after the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his +straw when once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that +the daybreak of labor had begun. + +"My poor Patrasche, we shall soon lie quiet together, you and I," said +old Jehan Daas, stretching out to stroke the head of Patrasche with the +old withered hand which had always shared with him its one poor crust +of bread; and the hearts of the old man and the old dog ached together +with one thought: When they were gone who would care for their darling? + +One afternoon, as they came back from Antwerp over the snow, which had +become hard and smooth as marble over all the Flemish plains, they +found dropped in the road a pretty little puppet, a tambourine-player, +all scarlet and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater +personages when Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by +its fall. It was a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, +failing, thought that it was just the thing to please Alois. + +It was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little +window of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his +little piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. +There was a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed +it and tapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. +The child opened it and looked out, half frightened. + +Nello put the tambourine-player into her hands. "Here is a doll I found +in the snow, Alois. Take it," he whispered,--"take it, and God bless +thee, dear!" + +He slid down from the shed-roof before she had time to thank him, and +ran off through the darkness. + +That night there was a fire at the mill. Out-buildings and much corn +were destroyed, although the mill itself and the dwelling-house were +unharmed. All the village was out in terror, and engines came tearing +through the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose +nothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that +the fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent. + +Nello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez +thrust him angrily aside. "Thou wert loitering here after dark," he +said roughly. "I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the +fire than any one." + +Nello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could +say such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could +pass a jest at such a time. + +Nevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his +neighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was +ever preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had +been seen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that +he bore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little +Alois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest +landowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches +of Alois in some future time for their sons, took the hint to give +grave looks and cold words to old Jehan Daas's grandson. No one said +anything to him openly, but all the village agreed together to humor +the miller's prejudice, and at the cottages and farms where Nello and +Patrasche called every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast +glances and brief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and +cheerful greetings to which they had been always used. No one really +credited the miller's absurd suspicions, nor the outrageous accusations +born of them, but the people were all very poor and very ignorant, and +the one rich man of the place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his +innocence and his friendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular +tide. + +"Thou art very cruel to the lad," the miller's wife dared to say, +weeping, to her lord. "Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and +would never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might +be." + +But Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing, held +to it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice +that he was committing. + +Meanwhile, Nello endured the injury done against him with a certain +proud patience that disdained to complain; he only gave way a little +when he was quite alone with old Patrasche. Besides, he thought, "If it +should win! They will be sorry then, perhaps." + +Still, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little +world all his short life, and in his childhood had been caressed and +applauded on all sides, it was a hard trial to have the whole of that +little world turn against him for naught. Especially hard in that +bleak, snow-bound, famine-stricken winter-time, when the only light and +warmth there could be found abode beside the village hearths and in the +kindly greetings of neighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to +each other, all to all, except to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none +now would have anything to do, and who were left to fare as they might +with the old paralyzed, bedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire +was often low, and whose board was often without bread, for there was a +buyer from Antwerp who had taken to drive his mule in of a day for the +milk of the various dairies, and there were only three or four of the +people who had refused his terms of purchase and remained faithful to +the little green cart. So that the burden which Patrasche drew had +become very light, and the centime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, +alas! very small likewise. + +The dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates which were now +closed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it +cost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let +Patrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for +they desired to please Baas Cogez. + +Noël was close at hand. + +The weather was very wild and cold. The snow was six feet deep, and the +ice was firm enough to bear oxen and men upon it everywhere. At this +season the little village was always gay and cheerful. At the poorest +dwelling there were possets and cakes, joking and dancing, sugared +saints and gilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on +the horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and +smoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing +maidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and +from the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold. + +Nello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week +before the Christmas Day, death entered there, and took away from life +forever old Jehan Daas, who had never known of life aught save its +poverty and its pains. He had long been half dead, incapable of any +movement except a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a +gentle word; and yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in +it; they mourned him passionately. He had passed away from them in his +sleep, and when in the gray dawn they learned their bereavement, +unutterable solitude and desolation seemed to close around them. He had +long been only a poor, feeble, paralyzed old man, who could not raise a +hand in their defence, but he had loved them well; his smile had always +welcomed their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be +comforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that +held his body to the nameless grave by the little gray church. They +were his only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon +earth,--the young boy and the old dog. + +"Surely, he will relent now and let the poor lad come hither?" thought +the miller's wife, glancing at her husband where he smoked by the +hearth. + +Baas Cogez knew her thought, but he hardened his heart, and would not +unbar his door as the little, humble funeral went by. "The boy is a +beggar," he said to himself: "he shall not be about Alois." + +The woman dared not say anything aloud, but when the grave was closed +and the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's +hands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound +where the snow was displaced. + +Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that +poor, melancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. +There was a month's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello +had paid the last sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He +went and begged grace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every +Sunday night to drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The +cobbler would grant no mercy. He was a harsh, miserly man, and loved +money. He claimed in default of his rent every stick and stone, every +pot and pan, in the hut, and bade Nello and Patrasche be out of it on +the morrow. + +Now, the cabin was lowly enough, and in some sense miserable enough, +and yet their hearts clove to it with a great affection. They had been +so happy there, and in the summer, with its clambering vine and its +flowering beans, it was so pretty and bright in the midst of the +sun-lighted fields! Their life in it had been full of labor and +privation, and yet they had been so well content, so gay of heart, +running together to meet the old man's never-failing smile of welcome! + +All night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the +darkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were +insensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them. + +When the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning +of Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only +friend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead. +"Let us go, Patrasche,--dear, dear Patrasche," he murmured. "We will +not wait to be kicked out: let us go." + +Patrasche had no will but his, and they went sadly, side by side, out +from the little place which was so dear to them both, and in which +every humble, homely thing was to them precious and beloved. Patrasche +drooped his head wearily as he passed by his own green cart; it was no +longer his,--it had to go with the rest to pay the rent, and his brass +harness lay idle and glittering on the snow. The dog could have lain +down beside it and died for very heart-sickness as he went, but whilst +the lad lived and needed him Patrasche would not yield and give way. + +They took the old accustomed road into Antwerp. The day had yet scarce +more than dawned, most of the shutters were still closed, but some of +the villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the +boy passed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully +within: his grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's +service to the people who dwelt there. + +"Would you give Patrasche a crust?" he said timidly. "He is old, and he +has had nothing since last forenoon." + +The woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about +wheat and rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on +again wearily: they asked no more. + +By slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten. + +"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!" thought +Nello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that +covered him, and his pair of wooden shoes. + +Patrasche understood, and nestled his nose into the lad's hand, as +though to pray him not to be disquieted for any woe or want of his. + +The winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to +the public building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. +On the steps and in the entrance-hall was a crowd of youths,--some of +his age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His +heart was sick with fear as he went amongst them, holding Patrasche +close to him. The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon +with brazen clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager, +panting throng rushed in; it was known that the selected picture would +be raised above the rest upon a wooden dais. + +A mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed +him. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was +not his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory +had been adjudged to Stephan Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp, +son of a wharfinger in that town. + +When Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones +without, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him +back to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were +shouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with +acclamations to his home upon the quay. + +The boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. "It is +all over, dear Patrasche," he murmured,--"all over!" + +He rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and +retraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his +head drooping and his old limbs feeble from hunger and sorrow. + +The snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it was +bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the +familiar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they +approached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent +in the snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small +case of brown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where +they were there stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under +the cross: the boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was +the name of Baas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand +francs. + +The sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his +shirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up +wistfully in his face. + +Nello made straight for the mill-house, and went to the house-door and +struck on its panels. The miller's wife opened it weeping, with little +Alois clinging close to her skirts. "Is it thee, thou poor lad?" she +said kindly through her tears. "Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee. We +are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money +that he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will +find it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own +judgment for the things we have done to thee." + +Nello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the +house. "Patrasche found the money to-night," he said quickly. "Tell +Baas Cogez so; I think he will not deny the dog shelter and food in his +old age. Keep him from pursuing me, and I pray of you to be good to +him." + +Ere either woman or dog knew what he meant he had stooped and kissed +Patrasche, then closed the door hurriedly, and disappeared in the gloom +of the fast-falling night. + +The woman and the child stood speechless with joy and fear: Patrasche +vainly spent the fury of his anguish against the iron-bound oak of the +barred house-door. They did not dare unbar the door and let him forth: +they tried all they could to solace him. They brought him sweet cakes +and juicy meats; they tempted him with the best they had; they tried to +lure him to abide by the warmth of the hearth; but it was of no avail. +Patrasche refused to be comforted or to stir from the barred portal. + +It was six o'clock when from an opposite entrance the miller at last +came, jaded and broken, into his wife's presence. "It is lost forever," +he said with an ashen cheek and a quiver in his stern voice. "We have +looked with lanterns everywhere: it is gone,--the little maiden's +portion and all!" + +His wife put the money into his hand, and told him how it had come to +her. The strong man sank trembling into a seat and covered his face, +ashamed and almost afraid. "I have been cruel to the lad," he muttered +at length: "I deserved not to have good at his hands." + +Little Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled +against him her fair curly head. "Nello may come here again, father?" +she whispered. "He may come to-morrow as he used to do?" + +The miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very +pale, and his mouth trembled. "Surely, surely," he answered his child. +"He shall bide here on Christmas Day, and any other day he will. God +helping me, I will make amends to the boy,--I will make amends." + +Little Alois kissed him in gratitude and joy, then slid from his knees +and ran to where the dog kept watch by the door. "And to-night I may +feast Patrasche?" she cried in a child's thoughtless glee. + +Her father bent his head gravely: "Ay, ay! let the dog have the best"; +for the stern old man was moved and shaken to his heart's depths. + +It was Christmas Eve, and the mill-house was filled with oak logs and +squares of turf, with cream and honey, with meat and bread, and the +rafters were hung with wreaths of evergreen, and the Calvary and the +cuckoo clock looked out from a mass of holly. There were little paper +lanterns too for Alois, and toys of various fashions and sweetmeats in +bright-pictured papers. There were light and warmth and abundance +everywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored +and feasted. + +But Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer. +Famished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake +neither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and +close against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of +escape. + +"He wants the lad," said Baas Cogez. "Good dog! good dog! I will go +over to the lad the first thing at day-dawn." For no one but Patrasche +knew that Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that +Nello had gone to face starvation and misery alone. + +The mill-kitchen was very warm; great logs crackled and flamed on the +hearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat +goose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back +on the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas +Cogez, in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened +eyes, and spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite +companion; the house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the +spinning-wheel; the cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst +it all Patrasche was bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry +there a cherished guest. But neither peace nor plenty could allure him +where Nello was not. + +When the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest and +gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois, +Patrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was +unlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired +limbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He +had only one thought,--to follow Nello. A human friend might have +paused for the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but +that was not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, +when an old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the +wayside ditch. + +Snow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; +the trail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took +Patrasche long to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it was +lost again quickly, and lost and recovered, and again lost and again +recovered, a hundred times or more. + +The night was very wild. The lamps under the wayside crosses were blown +out; the roads were sheets of ice; the impenetrable darkness hid every +trace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle +were housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced +and feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold,--old and +famished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a +great love to sustain him in his search. + +The trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new +snow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was +past midnight when Patrasche traced it over the boundaries of the town +and into the narrow, tortuous, gloomy streets. It was all quite dark in +the town, save where some light gleamed ruddily through the crevices of +house-shutters, or some group went homeward with lanterns chanting +drinking-songs. The streets were all white with ice: the high walls and +roofs loomed black against them. There was scarce a sound save the riot +of the winds down the passages as they tossed the creaking signs and +shook the tall lamp-irons. + +So many passers-by had trodden through and through the snow, so many +diverse paths had crossed and recrossed each other, that the dog had a +hard task to retain any hold on the track he followed. But he kept on +his way, though the cold pierced him to the bone, and the jagged ice +cut his feet, and the hunger in his body gnawed like a rat's teeth. He +kept on his way, a poor gaunt, shivering thing, and by long patience +traced the steps he loved into the very heart of the burgh and up to +the steps of the great cathedral. + +"He is gone to the things that he loved," thought Patrasche: he could +not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the +art-passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred. + +The portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. +Some heedlessness in the custodians, too eager to go home and feast or +sleep, or too drowsy to know whether they turned the keys aright, had +left one of the doors unlocked. By that accident the footfalls +Patrasche sought had passed through into the building, leaving the +white marks of snow upon the dark stone floor. By that slender white +thread, frozen as it fell, he was guided through the intense silence, +through the immensity of the vaulted space,--guided straight to the +gates of the chancel, and, stretched there upon the stones, he found +Nello. He crept up and touched the face of the boy. "Didst thou dream +that I should be faithless and forsake thee? I--a dog?" said that mute +caress. + +The lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. "Let us +lie down and die together," he murmured. "Men have no need of us, and +we are all alone." + +In answer, Patrasche crept closer yet, and laid his head upon the young +boy's breast. The great tears stood in his brown, sad eyes: not for +himself,--for himself he was happy. + +They lay close together in the piercing cold. The blasts that blew over +the Flemish dikes from the northern seas were like waves of ice, which +froze every living thing they touched. The interior of the immense +vault of stone in which they were was even more bitterly chill than the +snow-covered plains without. Now and then a bat moved in the +shadows,--now and then a gleam of light came on the ranks of carven +figures. Under the Rubens they lay together quite still, and soothed +almost into a dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold. +Together they dreamed of the old glad days when they had chased each +other through the flowering grasses of the summer meadows, or sat +hidden in the tall bulrushes by the water's side, watching the boats go +seaward in the sun. + +Suddenly through the darkness a great white radiance streamed through +the vastness of the aisles; the moon, that was at her height, had +broken through the clouds, the snow had ceased to fall, the light +reflected from the snow without was clear as the light of dawn. It fell +through the arches full upon the two pictures above, from which the boy +on his entrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent +of the Cross were for one instant visible. + +Nello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them: the tears of a +passionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. "I have seen +them at last!" he cried aloud. "O God, it is enough!" + +His limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing +upward at the majesty that he adored. For a few brief moments the light +illumined the divine visions that had been denied to him so +long,--light clear and sweet and strong as though it streamed from the +throne of Heaven. Then suddenly it passed away: once more a great +darkness covered the face of Christ. + +The arms of the boy drew close again the body of the dog. "We shall see +His face--_there_," he murmured; "and He will not part us, I think." + +On the morrow, by the chancel of the cathedral, the people of Antwerp +found them both. They were both dead: the cold of the night had frozen +into stillness alike the young life and the old. When the Christmas +morning broke and the priests came to the temple, they saw them lying +thus on the stones together. Above, the veils were drawn back from the +great visions of Rubens, and the fresh rays of the sunrise touched the +thorn-crowned head of the Christ. + +As the day grew on there came an old, hard-featured man who wept as +women weep. "I was cruel to the lad," he muttered, "and now I would +have made amends--yea, to the half of my substance--and he should have +been to me as a son." + +There came also, as the day grew apace, a painter who had fame in the +world, and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. "I seek one who +should have had the prize yesterday had worth won," he said to the +people,--"a boy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a +fallen tree at eventide,--that was all his theme. But there was +greatness for the future in it. I would fain find him, and take him +with me and teach him Art." + +And a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she +clung to her father's arm, cried aloud, "O Nello, come! We have all +ready for thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old +piper will play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the +hearth and burn nuts with us all the Noël week long,--yes, even to the +Feast of the Kings! And Patrasche will be so happy! O Nello, wake and +come!" + +But the young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens +with a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, "It is too late." + +For the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the +sunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay +and glad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked +charity at their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden. + +Death had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. +It had taken the one in the loyalty of love, and the other in the +innocence of faith, from a world which for love has no recompense and +for faith no fulfilment. + +All their lives they had been together, and in their deaths they were +not divided; for when they were found the arms of the boy were folded +too closely around the dog to be severed without violence, and the +people of their little village, contrite and ashamed, implored a +special grace for them, and, making them one grave, laid them to rest +there side by side--forever! + + + + +THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER. + +BY JOHN RUSKIN. + + +I. + +In a secluded and mountainous part of Styria, there was, in old time, a +valley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was +surrounded, on all sides, by steep and rocky mountains, rising into +peaks, which were always covered with snow, and from which a number of +torrents descended in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, +over the face of a crag so high that, when the sun had set to +everything else, and all below was darkness, his beams still shone full +upon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was, +therefore, called by the people of the neighborhood the Golden River. +It was strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself. +They all descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound away +through broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn +so constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular +hollow, that, in time of drought and heat, when all the country round +was burnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops +were so heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its +grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it +was a marvel to every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the +Treasure Valley. + +The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called +Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers, +were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small, dull eyes, +which were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into _them_, and +always fancied they saw very far into _you_. They lived by farming the +Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed +everything that did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds, +because they pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they +should suck the cows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs +in the kitchen; and smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all +summer in the lime-trees. They worked their servants without any wages, +till they would not work any more, and then quarrelled with them, and +turned them out of doors without paying them. It would have been very +odd, if, with such a farm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't +got very rich; and very rich they _did_ get. They generally contrived +to keep their corn by them till it was very dear, and then sell it for +twice its value; they had heaps of gold lying about on their floors, +yet it was never known that they had given so much as a penny or a +crust in charity; they never went to mass; grumbled perpetually at +paying tithes; and were, in a word, of so cruel and grinding a temper, +as to receive from all those with whom they had any dealings, the +nickname of the "Black Brothers." + +The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both +appearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imagined +or desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, and +kind in temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agree +particularly well with his brothers, or, rather, they did not agree +with _him_. He was usually appointed to the honorable office of +turnspit, when there was anything to roast, which was not often; for, +to do the brothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon +themselves than upon other people. At other times he used to clean the +shoes, the floors, and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what +was left on them, by way of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of +dry blows, by way of education. + +Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wet +summer, and everything went wrong in the country round. The hay had +hardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to the +sea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the +corn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, as +usual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain nowhere else, +so it had sun when there was sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy +corn at the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black +Brothers. They asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor +people, who could only beg, and several of whom were starved at their +very door, without the slightest regard or notice. + +It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day the +two elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little +Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in, +and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it +was raining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or +comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and +brown. "What a pity," thought Gluck, "my brothers never ask anybody to +dinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this, +and nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would do +their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." + +Just as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house-door, yet +heavy and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up,--more like a +puff than a knock. + +"It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock +double knocks at our door." + +No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very hard, and, what was +particularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not +to be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the +window, opened it, and put his head out to see who it was. + +It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman he had ever seen +in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his +cheeks were very round and very red, and might have warranted a +supposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the last +eight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silky +eyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each +side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt +color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in +height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude, +decorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet was +prolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration of +what is now termed a "swallow-tail," but was much obscured by the +swelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must +have been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling +round the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders +to about four times his own length. + +Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of his +visitor, that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the old +gentleman, having performed another and a more energetic concerto on +the knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing +he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, +with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed. + +"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the +door; I'm wet, let me in." + +To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down +between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella; +and from the ends of his mustaches the water was running into his +waistcoat-pockets, and out again like a mill-stream. + +"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't." + +"Can't what?" said the old gentleman. + +"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me +to death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?" + +"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter; +and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on +the walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to +warm myself." + +Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that +he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, +and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long +bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the +savory smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it +should be burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said +little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he +went to the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, +through the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys +totter. + +"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your +brothers. I'll talk to them." + +"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay +till they come; they'd be the death of me." + +"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How +long may I stay?" + +"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very +brown." + +Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on +the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it +was a great deal too high for the roof. + +"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn +the mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on +drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed and +sputtered, and began to look very black and uncomfortable; never was +such a cloak; every fold in it ran like a gutter. + +"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water +spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter +of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?" + +"No, thank you," said the old gentleman. + +"Your cap, sir?" + +"I'm all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly. + +"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but--really, +sir--you're putting the fire out." + +"It'll take longer to do the mutton then," replied his visitor dryly. + +Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a +strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string +meditatively for another five minutes. + +"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length. +"Can't you give me a little bit?" + +"Impossible, sir," said Gluck. + +"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to +eat yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the +knuckle!" + +He spoke in so very melancholy a tone, that it quite melted Gluck's +heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give +you that, but not a bit more." + +"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again. + +Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do +get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of +the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman +jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm. +Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at +exactitude, and ran to open the door. + +"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he +walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what for, +indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an educational +box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen. + +"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door. + +"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was +standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible +velocity. + +"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to +Gluck with a fierce frown. + +"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror. + +"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz. + +"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!" + +The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant, +the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with +a shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very +odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of +Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into +the corner at the further end of the room. + +"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him. + +"What's your business?" snarled Hans. + +"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly, +"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a +quarter of an hour." + +"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've +quite enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house." + +"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray +hairs." They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before. + +"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!" + +"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread +before I go?" + +"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do +with our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?" + +"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with +you." + +"A little bit," said the old gentleman. + +"Be off!" said Schwartz. + +"Pray, gentlemen." + +"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had +no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after +the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner +on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old +gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when +away he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against +the wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all +three. + +Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite +direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly +about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it +could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an +additional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfect +coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock +to-night, I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I +have just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the +last I ever pay you." + +"If ever I catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming, half +frightened, out of the corner,--but, before he could finish his +sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house-door behind him with a +great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of +ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all +manner of shapes; turning over and over in the air; and melting away at +last in a gush of rain. + +"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the +mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again-- Bless me, why +the mutton's been cut!" + +"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck. + +"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the +gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the +room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call +you." + +Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton +as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get +very drunk after dinner. + +Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and rushing rain, without +intermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the +shutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They +usually slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were +both awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a +violence that shook the house from top to bottom. + +"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed. + +"Only I," said the little gentleman. + +The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness. +The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its +way through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, +an enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a +cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old +gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the +roof was off. + +"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid +your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's +room; I've left the ceiling on there." + +They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet +through, and in an agony of terror. + +"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called +after them. "Remember the _last_ visit." + +"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe +disappeared. + +Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little +window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and +desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and +left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two +brothers crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The +water had gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every +movable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small +white card on the kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged +letters, were engraved the words:-- + +SOUTHWEST WIND, ESQUIRE. + + +II. + +Southwest Wind, Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentous +visit above related, he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what +was worse, he had so much influence with his relations, the West Winds +in general, and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similar +line of conduct. So no rain fell in the valley from one year's end to +another. Though everything remained green and flourishing in the plains +below, the inheritance of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had +once been the richest soil in the kingdom became a shifting heap of red +sand; and the brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse +skies, abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some +means of gaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the +plains. All their money was gone, and they had nothing left but some +curious, old-fashioned pieces of gold plate, the last remnants of their +ill-gotten wealth. + +"Suppose we turn goldsmiths?" said Schwartz to Hans, as they entered +the large city. "It is a good knave's trade; we can put a great deal of +copper into the gold, without any one's finding it out." + +The thought was agreed to be a very good one; they hired a furnace, and +turned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected their trade: +the first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold; the +second, that the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, +used to leave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out +the money in the ale-house next door. So they melted all their gold, +without making money enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to +one large drinking-mug, which an uncle of his had given to little +Gluck, and which he was very fond of, and would not have parted with +for the world; though he never drank anything out of it but milk and +water. The mug was a very odd mug to look at. The handle was formed of +two wreaths of flowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more +like silk than like metal, and these wreaths descended into, and mixed +with, a beard and whiskers, of the same exquisite workmanship, which +surrounded and decorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold +imaginable, right in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it +which seemed to command its whole circumference. It was impossible to +drink out of the mug without being subjected to an intense gaze out of +the side of these eyes; and Schwartz positively averred that once, +after emptying it full of Rhenish seventeen times, he had seen them +wink! When it came to the mug's turn to be made into spoons, it half +broke poor little Gluck's heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, +tossed the mug into the melting-pot, and staggered out to the +ale-house; leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars, when it +was all ready. + +When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in +the melting-pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing remained but +the red nose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than +ever. "And no wonder," thought Gluck, "after being treated in that +way." He sauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down +to catch the fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the +furnace. Now this window commanded a direct view of the range of +mountains, which, as I told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, +and more especially of the peak from which fell the Golden River. It +was just at the close of the day, and, when Gluck sat down at the +window, he saw the rocks of the mountain-tops, all crimson and purple +with the sunset; and there were bright tongues of fiery cloud burning +and quivering about them; and the river, brighter than all, fell, in a +waving column of pure gold, from precipice to precipice, with the +double arch of a broad purple rainbow stretched across it, flushing and +fading alternately in the wreaths of spray. + +"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a little while, +"if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be!" + +"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice, close at his +ear. + +"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody +there. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many +times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down +again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help +thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were +really all gold. + +"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before. + +"Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what _is_ that?" He looked again into +all the corners and cupboards, and then began turning round and round, +as fast as he could, in the middle of the room, thinking there was +somebody behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It +was singing now very merrily "Lala-lira-la"; no words, only a soft +running effervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the +boil. Gluck looked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the +house. Up stairs, and down stairs. No, it was certainly in that very +room, coming in quicker time and clearer notes every moment. +"Lala-lira-la." All at once it struck Gluck that it sounded louder near +the furnace. He ran to the opening and looked in; yes, he saw right, it +seemed to be coming, not only out of the furnace, but out of the pot. +He uncovered it, and ran back in a great fright, for the pot was +certainly singing! He stood in the farthest corner of the room, with +his hands up, and his mouth open, for a minute or two, when the singing +stopped, and the voice became clear and pronunciative. + +"Hollo!" said the voice. + +Gluck made no answer. + +"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again. + +Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, +drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and +its surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of its +reflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in, he saw meeting his +glance, from beneath the gold, the red nose and the sharp eyes of his +old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he +had seen them in his life. + +"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm all +right; pour me out." + +But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind. + +"Pour me out, I say," said the voice, rather gruffly. + +Still Gluck couldn't move. + +"_Will_ you pour me out?" said the voice, passionately. "I'm too hot." + +By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took hold of +the crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of +a liquid stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty little yellow +legs, then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms stuck akimbo, and, +finally, the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles, +uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the +shape of a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high. + +"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then +his arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it +would go, for five minutes, without stopping; apparently with the view +of ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluck +stood contemplating him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a +slashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismatic +colors gleamed over it, as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over +this brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full half-way to the +ground, in waving curls, so exquisitely delicate, that Gluck could +hardly tell where they ended; they seemed to melt into air. The +features of the face, however, were by no means finished with the same +delicacy; they were rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in +complexion, and indicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious and +intractable disposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf had +finished his self-examination, he turned his small, sharp eyes full on +Gluck, and stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it +wouldn't, Gluck, my boy," said the little man. + +This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencing +conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of +Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations out +of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to +dispute the dictum. + +"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed. + +"No," said the dwarf, conclusively. "No, it wouldn't." And with that, +the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns of +three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs very high, and +setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect +his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his +diminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his +amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy. + +"Pray, sir," said Gluck rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?" + +On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to +Gluck, and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the little +man, "am the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he turned about +again, and took two more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow +time for the consternation which this announcement produced in his +auditor to evaporate. After which he again walked up to Gluck and stood +still, as if expecting some comment on his communication. + +Gluck determined to say something, at all events. "I hope your Majesty +is very well," said Gluck. + +"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite +inquiry. "I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The +shape you saw me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from +whose enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of +you, and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to +serve you; therefore attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to +the top of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and +shall cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, for +him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing +in his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if any one shall +cast unholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will +become a black stone." So saying, the King of the Golden River turned +away, and deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest flame of +the furnace. His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling,--a +blaze of intense light,--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of +the Golden River had evaporated. + +"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "O +dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!" + + +III. + +The King of the Golden River had hardly made his extraordinary exit +before Hans and Schwartz came roaring into the house, very savagely +drunk. The discovery of the total loss of their last piece of plate had +the effect of sobering them just enough to enable them to stand over +Gluck, beating him very steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the +expiration of which period they dropped into a couple of chairs, and +requested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them +his story, of which of course they did not believe a word. They beat +him again, till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. In the +morning, however, the steadiness with which he adhered to his story +obtained him some degree of credence; the immediate consequence of +which was, that the two brothers, after wrangling a long time on the +knotty question which of them should try his fortune first, drew their +swords, and began fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the +neighbors, who, finding they could not pacify the combatants, sent for +the constable. + +Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but +Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the peace, +and, having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was thrown +into prison till he should pay. + +When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to set out +immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy water, was the +question. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any holy +water to so abandoned a character. So Hans went to vespers in the +evening for the first time in his life, and, under pretence of crossing +himself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph. + +Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into a +strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slung +them over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off for +the mountains. + +On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he looked +in at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself peeping out +of the bars, and looking very disconsolate? + +"Good morning, brother," said Hans; "have you any message for the King +of the Golden River?" + +Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with all his +strength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make +himself comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket, +shook the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it frothed +again, and marched off in the highest spirits in the world. + +It was, indeed, a morning that might have made any one happy, even with +no Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay stretched +along the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains,--their lower +cliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the floating +vapor, but gradually ascending till they caught the sunlight, which ran +in sharp touches of ruddy color along the angular crags, and pierced, +in long level rays, through their fringes of spear-like pine. Far +above, shot up red splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and +shivered into myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak +of sunlit snow, traced down their chasms like a line of forked +lightning; and, far beyond, and far above all these, fainter than the +morning cloud, but purer and changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the +utmost peaks of the eternal snow. + +The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless +elevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets of +spray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of the +cataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind. + +On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were fixed; +forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudent +rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled the +first range of the green and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised, on +surmounting them, to find that a large glacier, of whose existence, +notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had been +absolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden +River. He entered on it with the boldness of a practised mountaineer; +yet he thought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a +glacier in his life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all +its chasms came wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous or low, +but changeful and loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of +wild melody, then breaking off into short, melancholy tones, or sudden +shrieks, resembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice +was broken into thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, +like the ordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious +_expression_ about all their outlines,--a perpetual resemblance to +living features, distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows +and lurid lights played and floated about and through the pale blue +pinnacles, dazzling and confusing the sight of the traveller; while his +ears grew dull and his head giddy with the constant gush and roar of +the concealed waters. These painful circumstances increased upon him as +he advanced; the ice crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, +tottering spires nodded around him, and fell thundering across his +path; and though he had repeatedly faced these dangers on the most +terrific glaciers, and in the wildest weather, it was with a new and +oppressive feeling of panic terror that he leaped the last chasm, and +flung himself, exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf of the +mountain. + +He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became a +perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of refreshing +himself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This, +however, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited his hardy +frame, and, with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed his +laborious journey. + +His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare, red rocks, without a blade +of grass to ease the foot or a projecting angle to afford an inch of +shade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat intensely +upon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere was motionless, and +penetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to the bodily +fatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after glance he cast +on the flask of water which hung at his belt. "Three drops are enough," +at last thought he; "I may, at least, cool my lips with it." + +He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fell +on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was +a small dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its +tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a +swarm of black ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye +moved to the bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, +spurned the animal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know +how it was, but he thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come +across the blue sky. + +The path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the high hill +air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever. +The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his ears; they +were all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. Another hour +passed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side; it was half +empty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped to +open it, and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above +him. It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its +breast heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and +burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark +gray cloud came over the sun, and long snake-like shadows crept up +along the mountain-sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but +its descent seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead +air pressed upon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the +cataract of the Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely five +hundred feet above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang +on to complete his task. + +At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a +gray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his +features deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair. +"Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly,--"Water! I am +dying." + +"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life." He +strode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of blue +lightning rose out of the east, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice +over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable +shade. The sun was setting; it plunged toward the horizon like a +red-hot ball. + +The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brink +of the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red +glory of the sunset: they shook their crests like tongues of fire, and +flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound came +mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy with the +prolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask from his girdle, and +hurled it into the centre of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill +shot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked, and fell. The waters +closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly into the +night, as it gushed over + +THE BLACK STONE. + + +IV. + +Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for Hans's +return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened, and +went and told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened. Then +Schwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly have +been turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold to +himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When he got up +in the morning, there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so +Gluck went and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so +hard, and so neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got money +enough together to pay his brother's fine, and he went and gave it all +to Schwartz, and Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite +pleased, and said he should have some of the gold of the river. But +Gluck only begged he would go and see what had become of Hans. + +Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, he +thought to himself that such a proceeding might not be considered +altogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and determined to +manage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and went +to a bad priest, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. Then +Schwartz was sure it was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early in +the morning before the sun rose, and took some bread and wine in a +basket, and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the +mountains. Like his brother, he was much surprised at the sight of the +glacier, and had great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving +his basket behind him. The day was cloudless, but not bright: a heavy +purple haze was hanging over the sky, and the hills looked lowering and +gloomy. And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst came +upon him, as it had upon his brother, until he lifted his flask to his +lips to drink. Then he saw the fair child lying near him on the rocks, +and it cried to him, and moaned for water. + +"Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and +passed on. And as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and he +saw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the west; and, when he had +climbed for another hour, the thirst overcame him again, and he would +have drunk. Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, and +heard him cry out for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't +half enough for myself," and on he went. + +Then again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and he looked +up, and, behold, a mist, of the color of blood, had come over the sun; +and the bank of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were +tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And they cast +long shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path. + +Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned; +and as he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brother +Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he gazed, the +figure stretched its arms to him, and cried for water. "Ha, ha," +laughed Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. +Water, indeed! do you suppose I carried it all the way up here for +_you_?" And he strode over the figure; yet, as he passed, he thought he +saw a strange expression of mockery about its lips. And, when he had +gone a few yards farther, he looked back; but the figure was not there. + +And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the thirst +for gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the bank of +black cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of spiry +lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float between +their flashes, over the whole heavens. And the sky where the sun was +setting was all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong wind came +out of that sky, tearing its crimson clouds into fragments, and +scattering them far into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the +brink of the Golden River, its waves were black like thunderclouds, but +their foam was like fire; and the roar of the waters below and the +thunder above met, as he cast the flask into the stream. And, as he did +so, the lightning glared in his eyes, and the earth gave way beneath +him, and the waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river +rose wildly into the night, as it gushed over the + +TWO BLACK STONES. + + +V. + +When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very sorry, +and did not know what to do. He had no money, and was obliged to go and +hire himself again to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and gave +him very little money. So, after a month or two, Gluck grew tired, and +made up his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden River. "The +little king looked very kind," thought he. "I don't think he will turn +me into a black stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest gave +him some holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some +bread in his basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early +for the mountains. + +If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers, +it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so +practised on the mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his +basket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises +under the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had +got over, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the +day. When he had climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and +was going to drink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming +down the path above him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff. +"My son," said the old man, "I am faint with thirst; give me some of +that water." Then Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was pale +and weary, he gave him the water; "Only pray don't drink it all," said +Gluck. But the old man drank a great deal, and gave him back the bottle +two thirds empty. Then he bade him good speed, and Gluck went on again +merrily. And the path became easier to his feet, and two or three +blades of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing +on the bank beside it; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry +singing. + +Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him so +that he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised the +flask, he saw a little child lying panting by the roadside, and it +cried out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself and +determined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle to +the child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled +on him, and got up, and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it, +till it became as small as a little star, and then turned, and began +climbing again. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing +on the rocks, bright green moss, with pale pink starry flowers, and +soft-belled gentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure +white transparent lilies. And crimson and purple butterflies darted +hither and thither, and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck +had never felt so happy in his life. + +Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became +intolerable again; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there +were only five or six drops left in it, and he could not venture to +drink. And as he was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a +little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for breath,--just as Hans had +seen it on the day of his ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked at it, +and then at the Golden River, not five hundred yards above him; and he +thought of the dwarf's words, "that no one could succeed, except in his +first attempt"; and he tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, +and Gluck stopped again. "Poor beastie," said Gluck, "it'll be dead +when I come down again, if I don't help it." Then he looked closer and +closer at it, and its eye turned on him so mournfully that he could not +stand it. "Confound the King and his gold too," said Gluck; and he +opened the flask, and poured all the water into the dog's mouth. + +The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared, its +ears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red, its +eyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, and +before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River. + +"Thank you," said the monarch; "but don't be frightened, it's all +right"; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at this +unlooked-for reply to his last observation. "Why didn't you come +before," continued the dwarf, "instead of sending me those rascally +brothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones? +Very hard stones they make, too." + +"O dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?" + +"Cruel," said the dwarf, "they poured unholy water into my stream; do +you suppose I'm going to allow that?" + +"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir,--your Majesty, I mean,--they got +the water out of the church font." + +"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," and his countenance grew +stern as he spoke, "the water which has been refused to the cry of the +weary and dying is unholy, though it had been blessed by every saint in +heaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, +though it had been defiled with corpses." + +So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet. +On its white leaves hung three drops of clear dew. And the dwarf shook +them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these into the +river," he said, "and descend on the other side of the mountains into +the Treasure Valley. And so good speed." + +As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The playing +colors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy +light; he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of a +broad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the mist rose into the air; the +monarch had evaporated. + +And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were +as clear as crystal and as brilliant as the sun. And when he cast the +three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell, a +small circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a +musical noise. + +Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed, because +not only the river was not turned into gold, but its waters seemed much +diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and +descended the other side of the mountains, toward the Treasure Valley; +and, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water working its way +under the ground. And when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley, +behold, a river, like the Golden River, was springing from a new cleft +of the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable streams among the +dry heaps of red sand. + +And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, and +creeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil. Young +flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out when +twilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine, +cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus the +Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, which had +been lost by cruelty, was regained by love. + +And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven +from his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of +treasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the dwarf's +promise, become a River of Gold. + +And to this day the inhabitants of the valley point out the place where +the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and trace the +course of the Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in the +Treasure Valley. And, at the top of the cataract of the Golden River, +are still to be seen two BLACK STONES, round which the waters howl +mournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called, by +the people of the valley, + +THE BLACK BROTHERS. + + + + +THE LADY OF SHALOTT. + +BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS. + + +It is not generally known that the Lady of Shalott lived last summer in +an attic, at the east end of South Street. + +The wee-est, thinnest, whitest little lady! And yet the brightest, +stillest, and withal such a smiling little lady! + +If you had held her up by the window,--for she could not hold up +herself,--she would have hung like a porcelain transparency in your +hands. And if you had said, laying her gently down, and giving the +tears a smart dash, that they should not fall on her lifted face, "Poor +child!" the Lady of Shalott would have said, "O, don't!" and smiled. +And you would have smiled yourself, for very surprise that she should +outdo you; and between the two there would have been so much smiling +done that one would have fairly thought it was a delightful thing to +live last summer in an attic at the east end of South Street. + +This perhaps was the more natural in the Lady of Shalott because she +had never lived anywhere else. + +When the Lady of Shalott was five years old, her mother threw her down +stairs one day, by mistake, instead of the whiskey-jug. + +This is a fact which I think Mr. Tennyson has omitted to mention in his +poem. + +They picked up the Lady of Shalott and put her on the bed; and there +she lay from that day until last summer, unless, as I said, somebody +had occasion to use her for a transparency. + +The mother and the jug both went down the stairs together a few years +after, and never came up at all,--and that was a great convenience, for +the Lady of Shalott's palace in the attic was not large, and they took +up much unnecessary room. + +Since that the Lady of Shalott had lived with her sister, Sary Jane. + +Sary Jane made nankeen vests, at sixteen and three quarters cents a +dozen. + +Sary Jane had red hair, and crooked shoulders, and a voice so much like +a rat-trap which she sometimes set on the stairs that the Lady of +Shalott could seldom tell which was which until she had thought about +it a little while. When there was a rat caught, she was apt to ask +"What?" and when Sary Jane spoke, she more often than not said, +"There's another!" + +Her crooked shoulders Sary Jane had acquired from sitting under the +eaves of the palace to sew. That physiological problem was simple. +There was not room enough under the eaves to sit straight. + +Sary Jane's red hair was the result of sitting in the sun on July noons +under those eaves, to see to thread her needle. There was no question +about that. The Lady of Shalott had settled it in her own mind, past +dispute. Sary Jane's hair had been--what was it? brown? once. Sary Jane +was slowly taking fire. Who would not, to sit in the sun in that +palace? The only matter of surprise to the Lady of Shalott was that the +palace itself did not smoke. Sometimes, when Sary Jane hit the rafters, +she was sure that she saw sparks. + +As for Sary Jane's voice, when one knew that she made nankeen vests at +sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen, that was a matter of no +surprise. It never surprised the Lady of Shalott. + +But Sary Jane was very cross; there was no denying that; very cross. + +And the palace. Let me tell you about the palace. It measured just +twelve by nine feet. It would have been seven feet post,--if there had +been a post in the middle of it. From the centre it sloped away to the +windows, where Sary Jane had just room enough to sit crooked under the +eaves at work. There were two windows and a loose scuttle to let in the +snow in winter and the sun in summer, and the rain and wind at all +times. It was quite a diversion to the Lady of Shalott to see how many +different ways of doing a disagreeable thing seemed to be practicable +to that scuttle. Besides the bed on which the Lady of Shalott lay, +there was a stove in the palace, two chairs, a very ragged rag-mat, a +shelf with two notched cups and plates upon it, one pewter teaspoon, +and a looking-glass. On washing-days Sary Jane climbed upon the chair +and hung her clothes out through the scuttle on the roof; or else she +ran a little rope from one of the windows to the other for a +drying-rope. It would have been more exact to have said on +washing-nights; for Sary Jane always did her washing after dark. The +reason was evident. If the rest of us were in the habit of wearing all +the clothes we had, like Sary Jane, I have little doubt that we should +do the same. + +I should mention that there was no sink in the Lady of Shalott's +palace; no water. There was a dirty hydrant in the yard, four flights +below, which supplied the Lady of Shalott and all her neighbors. The +Lady of Shalott kept her coal under the bed; her flour, a pound at a +time, in a paper parcel, on the shelf, with the teacups and the pewter +spoon. If she had anything else to keep, it went out through the palace +scuttle and lay on the roof. The Lady of Shalott's palace opened +directly upon a precipice. The lessor of the house called it a flight +of stairs. When Sary Jane went up and down she went sidewise to +preserve her balance. There were no bannisters to the precipice, and +about once a week a baby patronized the rat-trap, instead. Once, when +there was a fire-alarm, the precipice was very serviceable. Four women +and an old man went over. With one exception (she was eighteen, and +could bear a broken collar-bone), they will not, I am informed, go over +again. + +The Lady of Shalott paid one dollar a week for the rent of her palace. + +But then there was a looking-glass in the palace. I think I noticed it. +It hung on the slope of the rafters, just opposite the Lady of +Shalott's window,--for she considered that her window at which Sary +Jane did not make nankeen vests at sixteen and three quarters cents a +dozen. + +Now, because the looking-glass was opposite the window at which Sary +Jane did _not_ make vests, and because the rafters sloped, and because +the bed lay almost between the looking-glass and the window, the Lady +of Shalott was happy. And because, to the patient heart that is a +seeker after happiness, "the little more, and how much it is!" (and the +little less, what worlds away!) the Lady of Shalott was proud as well +as happy. The looking-glass measured in inches 10 X 6. I think that the +Lady of Shalott would have experienced rather a touch of mortification +than of envy if she had known that there was a mirror in a house just +round the corner measuring almost as many feet. But that was one of the +advantages of being the Lady of Shalott. She never parsed life in the +comparative degree. + +I suppose that one must be the Lady of Shalott to understand what +comfort there may be in a 10 X 6 inch looking-glass. All the world came +for the Lady of Shalott into her looking-glass,--the joy of it, the +anguish of it, the hope and fear of it, the health and hurt,--10 X 6 +inches of it exactly. + +"It is next best to not having been thrown down stairs yourself!" said +the Lady of Shalott. + +To tell the truth, it sometimes occurred to her that there was a +monotony about the world. A garret window like her own, for instance, +would fill her sight if she did not tip the glass a little. Children +sat in it, and did not play. They made lean faces at her. They were +locked in for the day and were hungry. She could not help knowing how +hungry they were, and so tipped the glass. Then there was the trap-door +in the sidewalk. She became occasionally tired of that trap-door. Seven +people lived under the sidewalk; and when they lifted and slammed the +trap, coming in and out, they reminded her of something which Sary Jane +bought her once, when she was a very little child, at Christmas +time,--long ago, when rents were cheaper and flour low. It was a +monkey, with whiskers and a calico jacket, who jumped out of a box when +the cover was lifted; and then you crushed him down and hasped him in. +Sometimes she wished that she had never had that monkey, he was so much +like the people coming in and out of the sidewalk. + +In fact, there was a monotony about all the people in the Lady of +Shalott's looking-glass. If their faces were not dirty, their hands +were. If they had hats, they went without shoes. If they did not sit in +the sun with their heads on their knees, they lay in the mud with their +heads on a jug. + +"Their faces look blue!" she said to Sary Jane. + +"No wonder!" snapped Sary Jane. + +"Why?" asked the Lady of Shalott. + +"Wonder is we ain't all dead!" barked Sary Jane. + +The people in the Lady of Shalott's glass died, however, +sometimes,--often in the summer; more often last summer, when the attic +smoked continually, and she mistook Sary Jane's voice for the rat-trap +every day. + +The people were jostled into pine boxes (in the glass), and carried +away (in the glass) by twilight, in a cart. Three of the monkeys from +the spring-box in the sidewalk went, in one week, out into the foul, +purple twilight, away from the looking-glass, in carts. + +"I'm glad of that, poor things!" said the Lady of Shalott, for she had +always felt a kind of sorrow for the monkeys. Principally, I think, +because they had no glass. + +When the monkeys had gone, the sickly twilight folded itself up, over +the spring-box, into great feathers, like the feathers of a wing. That +was pleasant. The Lady of Shalott could almost put out her fingers and +stroke it, it hung so near, and was so clear, and gathered such a +peacefulness into the looking-glass. + +"Sary Jane, dear, it's very pleasant," said the Lady of Shalott. Sary +Jane said it was very dangerous, the Lord knew, and bit her threads +off. + +"And, Sary Jane, dear!" added the Lady of Shalott, "I see so many other +pleasant things." + +"The more fool you!" said Sary Jane. + +But she wondered about it that day over her tenth nankeen vest. What, +for example, _could_ the Lady of Shalott see? + +"Waves!" said the Lady of Shalott, suddenly, as if she had been asked +the question. Sary Jane jumped. She said, "Nonsense!" For the Lady of +Shalott had only seen the little wash-tub full of dingy water on Sunday +nights, and the dirty little hydrant (in the glass) spouting dingy +jets. She would not have known a wave if she had seen it. + +"But I see waves," said the Lady of Shalott. She felt sure of it. They +ran up and down across the glass. They had green faces and gray hair. +They threw back their hands, like cool people resting, and it seemed +unaccountable, at the east end of South Street last summer, that +anything, anywhere, if only a wave in a looking-glass, could be cool or +at rest. Besides this, they kept their faces clean. Therefore the Lady +of Shalott took pleasure in watching them run up and down across the +glass. That a thing could be clean, and green, and white, was only less +a wonder than cool and rest last summer in South Street. + +"Sary Jane, dear," said the Lady of Shalott, one day, "how hot _is_ it +up here?" + +"Hot as Hell!" said Sary Jane. + +"I thought it was a little warm," said the Lady of Shalott. "Sary Jane, +dear, isn't the yard down there a little--dirty?" + +Sary Jane put down her needle, and looked out of the blazing, blindless +window. It had always been a subject of satisfaction to Sary Jane, +somewhere down below her lean shoulders and in the very teeth of the +rat-trap, that the Lady of Shalott could not see out of that window. So +she winked at the window, as if she would caution it to hold its +burning tongue, and said never a word. + +"Sary Jane, dear," said the Lady of Shalott, once more, "had you ever +thought that perhaps I was a little--weaker--than I was--once?" + +"I guess you can stand it if I can!" said the rat-trap. + +"O, yes, dear," said the Lady of Shalott. "I can stand it if you can." + +"Well, then!" said Sary Jane. But she sat and winked at the bald +window, and the window held its burning tongue. + +It grew hot in South Street. It grew very hot in South Street. The lean +children in the attic opposite fell sick, and sat no longer in the +window making faces, in the Lady of Shalott's glass. + +Two more monkeys from the spring-box were carried away one ugly +twilight in a cart. The purple wing that hung over the spring-box +lifted to let them pass; and then fell, as if it had brushed them away. + +"It has such a soft color!" said the Lady of Shalott, smiling. + +"So has nightshade!" said Sary Jane. + +One day a beautiful thing happened. One can scarcely understand how a +beautiful thing _could_ happen at the east end of South Street. The +Lady of Shalott herself did not entirely understand. + +"It is all the glass," she said. + +She was lying very still when she said it. She had folded her hands, +which were hot, to keep them quiet too. She had closed her eyes, which +ached, to close away the glare of the noon. At once she opened them, +and said:-- + +"It is the glass." + +Sary Jane stood in the glass. Now Sary Jane, she well knew, was not in +the room that noon. She had gone out to see what she could find for +dinner. She had five cents to spend on dinner. Yet Sary Jane stood in +the glass. And in the glass, ah! what a beautiful thing! + +"Flowers!" cried the Lady of Shalott aloud. But she had never seen +flowers. But neither had she seen waves. So she said, "They come as the +waves come." And knew them, and lay smiling. Ah! what a beautiful, +beautiful thing! + +Sary Jane's hair was fiery and tumbled (in the glass), as if she had +walked fast and far. Sary Jane (in the glass) was winking, as she had +winked at the blazing window; as if she said to what she held in her +arms, Don't tell! And in her arms (in the glass), where the waves +were--oh! beautiful, beautiful! The Lady of Shalott lay whispering: +"Beautiful, beautiful!" She did not know what else to do. She dared not +stir. Sary Jane's lean arms (in the glass) were full of silver bells; +they hung out of a soft green shadow, like a church tower; they nodded +to and fro; when they shook, they shook out sweetness. + +"Will they ring?" asked the Lady of Shalott of the little glass. + +I doubt, in my own mind, if you or I, being in South Street, and seeing +a lily of the valley (in a 10 X 6 inch looking-glass) for the very +first time, would have asked so sensible a question. + +"Try 'em and see," said the looking-glass. Was it the looking-glass? Or +the rat-trap? Or was it-- + +O, the beautiful thing! That the glass should have nothing to do with +it, after all! That Sary Jane, in flesh and blood, and tumbled hair, +and trembling, lean arms, should stand and shake an armful of church +towers and silver bells down into the Lady of Shalott's little puzzled +face and burning hands! + +And that the Lady of Shalott should think that she must have got into +the glass herself, by a blunder,--as the only explanation possible of +such a beautiful thing! + +"No, it isn't glass-dreams," said Sary Jane, winking at the church +towers, where they made a solemn, green shadow against the Lady of +Shalott's bent cheek. "Smell 'em and see. You can 'most stand the yard +with them round. Smell 'em and see! It ain't the glass; it's the Flower +Charity." + +"The what?" asked the Lady of Shalott slowly. + +"The Flower Charity." + +"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott. But she said nothing more. + +She laid her cheek over into the shadow of the green church towers. +"And there'll be more," said Sary Jane, hunting for her wax. "There'll +be more, whenever I can call for 'em,--bless it!" + +"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott again. + +"But I only got a lemon for dinner," said Sary Jane. + +"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott, with her face hidden under +the church towers. But I don't think that she meant the lemon, though +Sary Jane did. + +"They _do_ ring," said the Lady of Shalott by and by. She drew the tip +of her thin fingers across the tip of the tiny bells. "I thought they +would." + +"Humph!" said Sary Jane, squeezing her lemon under her work-box. "I +never see your beat for glass-dreams. What do they say? Come, now!" + +Now the Lady of Shalott knew very well what they said. Very well! But +she only drew the tips of her poor fingers over the tips of the silver +bells. Clever mind! It was not necessary to tell Sary Jane. + +But it grew hot in South Street. It grew very hot in South Street. Even +the Flower Charity (bless it!) could not sweeten the dreadfulness of +that yard. Even the purple wing above the spring-box fell heavily upon +the Lady of Shalott's strained eyes, across the glass. Even the +gray-haired waves ceased running up and down and throwing back their +hands before her; they sat still, in heaps upon a blistering beach, and +gasped for breath. The Lady of Shalott herself gasped sometimes, in +watching them. + +One day she said: "There's a man in them." + +"A _what_ in _which_?" buzzed Sary Jane. "Oh! There's a man across the +yard, I suppose you mean. Among them young ones, yonder. I wish he'd +stop 'em throwing stones, plague on 'em! See him, don't you?" + +"I don't see the children," said the Lady of Shalott, a little +troubled. Her glass had shown her so many things strangely since the +days grew hot. "But I see a man, and he walks upon the waves. See, +see!" + +The Lady of Shalott tried to pull herself up upon the elbow of her +calico night-dress, to see. + +"That's one of them Hospital doctors," said Sary Jane, looking out of +the blazing window. "I've seen him round before. Don't know what +business he's got down here; but I've seen him. He's talkin' to them +boys now, about the stones. There! He'd better! If they don't look out, +they'll hit--" + +"_O, the glass! the glass!_" + +The Hospital doctor stood still; so did Sary Jane, half risen from her +chair; so did the very South Street boys, gaping in the gutter, with +their hands full of stones, such a cry rang out from the palace window. + +"_O, the glass! the glass! the glass!_" + +In a twinkling the South Street boys were at the mercy of the South +Street police; and the Hospital doctor, bounding over a beachful of +shattered, scattered waves, stood, out of breath, beside the Lady of +Shalott's bed. + +"O the little less, and what worlds away!" + +The Lady of Shalott lay quite still in her little brown calico +night-gown [I cannot learn, by the way, that Bulfinch's studious and in +general trustworthy researches have put him in possession of this +point. Indeed, I feel justified in asserting that Mr. Bulfinch never so +much as _intimated_ that the Lady of Shalott wore a brown calico +night-dress]--the Lady of Shalott lay quite still, and her lips turned +blue. + +"Are you very much hurt? Where were you struck? I heard the cry, and +came. Can you tell me where the blow was?" + +But then the doctor saw the glass, broken and blown in a thousand +glittering sparks across the palace floor; and then the Lady of Shalott +gave him a little blue smile. + +"It's not me. Never mind. I wish it was. I'd rather it was me than the +glass. O, my glass! my glass! But never mind. I suppose there'll be +some other--pleasant thing." + +"Were you so fond of the glass?" asked the doctor, taking one of the +two chairs that Sary Jane brought him, and looking sorrowfully about +the room. What other "pleasant thing" could even the Lady of Shalott +discover in that room last summer, at the east end of South Street? + +"How long have you lain here?" asked the sorrowful doctor, suddenly. + +"Since I can remember, sir," said the Lady of Shalott, with that blue +smile. "But then I have always had my glass." + +"Ah!" said the doctor, "the Lady of Shalott!" + +"Sir?" said the Lady of Shalott. + +"Where is the pain?" asked the doctor, gently, with his finger on the +Lady of Shalott's pulse. + +The Lady of Shalott touched the shoulder of her brown calico +night-dress, smiling. + +"And what did you see in your glass?" asked the doctor, once more +stooping to examine "the pain." + +The Lady of Shalott tried to tell him, but felt confused; so many +strange things had been in the glass since it grew hot. So she only +said that there were waves and a purple wing, and that they were broken +now, and lay upon the floor. + +"Purple wings?" asked the doctor. + +"Over the sidewalk," nodded the Lady of Shalott. "It comes up at +night." + +"Oh!" said the doctor, "the malaria. No wonder!" + +"And what about the waves?" asked the doctor, talking while he touched +and tried the little brown calico shoulders. "I have a little girl of +my own down by the waves this summer. She--I suppose she is no older +than you!" + +"I am seventeen, sir," said the Lady of Shalott. "Do they have green +faces and white hair? Does she see them run up and down? I never saw +any waves, sir, but those in my glass. I am very glad to know that your +little girl is by the waves." + +"Where you ought to be," said the doctor, half under his breath. "It is +cruel, cruel!" + +"What is cruel?" asked the Lady of Shalott, looking up into the +doctor's face. + +The little brown calico night-dress swam suddenly before the doctor's +eyes. He got up and walked across the floor. As he walked he stepped +upon the pieces of the broken glass. + +"O, don't!" cried the Lady of Shalott. But then she thought that +perhaps she had hurt the doctor's feelings; so she smiled, and said, +"Never mind." + +"Her case could be cured," said the doctor, still under his breath, to +Sary Jane. "The case could be cured yet. It is cruel!" + +"Sir," said Sary Jane,--she lifted her sharp face sharply out of +billows of nankeen vests,--"it may be because I make vests at sixteen +and three quarters cents a dozen, sir; but I say before God there's +something cruel somewheres. Look at her. Look at me. Look at them +stairs. Just see that scuttle, will you? Just feel the sun in't these +windows. Look at the rent we pay for this 'ere oven. What do you s'pose +the meriky is up here? Look at them pisen fogs arisen' out over the +sidewalk. Look at the dead as have died in the Devil in this street +this week. Then look out here!" + +Sary Jane drew the doctor to the blazing, blindless window, out of +which the Lady of Shalott had never looked. + +"Now talk of curin' her!" said Sary Jane. + +The doctor turned away from the window, with a sudden white face. + +"The Board of Health--" + +"Don't talk to me about the Board of Health!" said Sary Jane. + +"I'll talk to them," said the doctor. "I did not know matters were so +bad. They shall be attended to directly. To-morrow I leave town--" He +stopped, looking down at the Lady of Shalott, thinking of the little +lady by the waves, whom he would see to-morrow, hardly knowing what to +say. "But something shall be done at once. Meantime, there's the +Hospital." + +"She tried Horspital long ago," said Sary Jane. "They said they +couldn't do nothing. What's the use? Don't bother her. Let her be." + +"Yes, let me be," said the Lady of Shalott, faintly. "The glass is +broken." + +"But something must be done!" urged the doctor, hurrying away. "I will +attend to the matter directly." + +He spoke in a busy doctor's busy way. Undoubtedly he thought that he +should attend to the matter directly. + +"You have flowers here, I see." He lifted, in hurrying away, a spray of +lilies that lay upon the bed, freshly sent to the Lady of Shalott that +morning. + +"They ring," said the Lady of Shalott, softly. "Can you hear? +'Bless--it! Bless--it!' Ah, yes, they ring!" + +"Bless what?" asked the doctor, half out of the door. + +"The Flower Charity," said the Lady of Shalott. + +"Amen!" said the doctor. "But I'll attend to it directly." And he was +quite out of the door, and the door was shut. + +"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott, a few minutes after the +door was shut. + +"Well!" said Sary Jane. + +"The glass is broken," said the Lady of Shalott. + +"Should think I might know that!" said Sary Jane, who was down upon her +knees, sweeping shining pieces away into a pasteboard dust-pan. + +"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott again. + +"Dear, dear!" echoed Sary Jane, tossing purple feathers out of the +window and seeming, to the eyes of the Lady of Shalott, to have the +spray of green waves upon her hands. "There they go!" + +"Yes, there they go," said the Lady of Shalott. But she said no more +till night. + +It was a hot night for South Street. It was a very hot night for even +South Street. The lean children in the attic opposite cried savagely, +like lean cubs. The monkeys from the spring-box came out and sat upon +the lid for air. Dirty people lay around the dirty hydrant; and the +purple wing stretched itself a little in a quiet way, to cover them. + +"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott, at night. "The glass is +broken. And, Sary Jane, dear, I am afraid I _can't_ stand it as well as +you can." + +Sary Jane gave the Lady of Shalott a sharp look, and put away her +nankeen vests. She came to the bed. + +"It isn't time to stop sewing, is it?" asked the Lady of Shalott, in +faint surprise. Sary Jane only gave her sharp looks, and said,-- + +"Nonsense! That man will be back again yet. He'll look after ye, maybe. +Nonsense!" + +"Yes," said the Lady of Shalott, "he will come back again. But my glass +is broken." + +"Nonsense!" said Sary Jane. But she did not go back to her sewing. She +sat down on the edge of the bed, by the Lady of Shalott; and it grew +dark. + +"Perhaps they'll do something about the yards; who knows?" said Sary +Jane through the growing dark. + +"But my glass is broken," said the Lady of Shalott. + +"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott, when it had grown quite, +quite dark. "He is walking on the waves." + +"Nonsense!" said Sary Jane. For it was quite, quite dark. + +"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott. "Not that man. But there +_is_ a man, and he is walking on the waves." + +The Lady of Shalott raised herself upon her little calico night-dress +sleeve. She looked at the wall where the 10 X 6 inch looking-glass had +hung. + +"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott. "I am glad that girl is +down by the waves. I am very glad. But the glass is broken." + +Two days after, the Board of Health at the foot of the precipice, which +the lessor called a flight of stairs, which led into the Lady of +Shalott's palace, were met and stopped by another board. + +"_This_ one's got the right of way, gentlemen!" said something at the +brink of the precipice, which sounded so much like a rat-trap that the +Board of Health looked down by instinct at its individual and +collective feet to see if they were in danger, and dared not by +instinct stir a step. + +The board which had the right of way was a pine board, and the Lady of +Shalott lay on it, in her little brown calico night-dress, with Sary +Jane's old shawl across her feet. The Flower Charity (Heaven bless it!) +had half covered the old shawl with silver bells, and solemn green +shadows, like the shadows of church towers. And it was a comfort to +know that these were the only bells which tolled for the Lady of +Shalott, and that no other church shadow fell upon her burial. + +"Gentlemen," said the Hospital doctor, "we're too late, I see. But +you'd better go on." + +The gentlemen of the Board of Health went on; and the Lady of Shalott +went on. + +The Lady of Shalott went out into the cart that had carried away the +monkeys from the spring-box, and the purple wing lifted to let her +pass; and fell again, as if it had brushed her away. + +The Board of Health went up the precipice, and stood by the window out +of which the Lady of Shalott had never looked. + +They sent orders to the scavenger, and orders to the Water Board, and +how many other orders nobody knows; and they sprinkled themselves with +camphor, and they went their ways. + +And the board that had the right of way went its way, too. And Sary +Jane folded up the shawl, which she could not afford to lose, and came +home, and made nankeen vests at sixteen and three quarters cents a +dozen in the window out of which the Lady of Shalott had never looked. + + + + +MARJORIE FLEMING. + +BY JOHN BROWN, M.D. + + +One November afternoon in 1810,--the year in which "Waverley" was +resumed and laid aside again, to be finished off, its last two volumes +in three weeks, and made immortal in 1814, and when its author, by the +death of Lord Melville, narrowly escaped getting a civil appointment in +India,--three men, evidently lawyers, might have been seen escaping +like school-boys from the Parliament House, and speeding arm in arm +down Bank Street and the Mound, in the teeth of a surly blast of sleet. + +The three friends sought the _bield_ of the low wall old Edinburgh boys +remember well, and sometimes miss now, as they struggle with the stout +west-wind. + +The three were curiously unlike each other. One, "a little man of +feeble make, who would be unhappy if his pony got beyond a foot pace," +slight, with "small, elegant features, hectic cheek, and soft hazel +eyes, the index of the quick, sensitive spirit within, as if he had the +warm heart of a woman, her genuine enthusiasm, and some of her +weaknesses." Another, as unlike a woman as a man can be; homely, almost +common, in look and figure; his hat and his coat, and indeed his entire +covering, worn to the quick, but all of the best material; what +redeemed him from vulgarity and meanness were his eyes, deep set, +heavily thatched, keen, hungry, shrewd, with a slumbering glow far in, +as if they could be dangerous; a man to care nothing for at first +glance, but, somehow, to give a second and not-forgetting look at. The +third was the biggest of the three, and though lame, nimble, and all +rough and alive with power; had you met him anywhere else, you would +say he was a Liddesdale store-farmer, come of gentle blood; "a stout, +blunt carle," as he says of himself, with the swing and stride and the +eye of a man of the hills,--a large, sunny, out-of-door air all about +him. On his broad and somewhat stooping shoulders was set that head +which, with Shakespeare's and Bonaparte's, is the best known in all the +world. + +He was in high spirits, keeping his companions and himself in roars of +laughter, and every now and then seizing them, and stopping, that they +might take their fill of the fun; there they stood shaking with +laughter, "not an inch of their body free" from its grip. At George +Street they parted, one to Rose Court, behind St. Andrew's Church, one +to Albany Street, the other, our big and limping friend, to Castle +Street. + +We need hardly give their names. The first was William Erskine, +afterwards Lord Kinnedder, chased out of the world by a calumny, killed +by its foul breath,-- + + "And at the touch of wrong, without a strife, + Slipped in a moment out of life." + +There is nothing in literature more beautiful or more pathetic than +Scott's love and sorrow for this friend of his youth. + +The second was William Clerk,--the _Darsie Latimer_ of "Redgauntlet"; +"a man," as Scott says, "of the most acute intellects and powerful +apprehension," but of more powerful indolence, so as to leave the world +with little more than the report of what he might have been,--a +humorist as genuine, though not quite so savagely Swiftian as his +brother Lord Eldon, neither of whom had much of that commonest and best +of all the humors, called good. + +The third we all know. What has he not done for every one of us? Who +else ever, except Shakespeare, so diverted mankind, entertained and +entertains a world so liberally, so wholesomely? We are fain to say, +not even Shakespeare, for his is something deeper than diversion, +something higher than pleasure, and yet who would care to split this +hair? + +Had any one watched him closely before and after the parting, what a +change he would see! The bright, broad laugh, the shrewd, jovial word, +the man of the Parliament House and of the world, and, next step, +moody, the light of his eye withdrawn, as if seeing things that were +invisible; his shut mouth, like a child's, so impressionable, so +innocent, so sad: he was now all within, as before he was all without; +hence his brooding look. As the snow blattered in his face, he +muttered, "How it raves and drifts! On-ding o' snaw,--ay, that's the +word,--on-ding--" He was now at his own door, "Castle Street, No. 39." +He opened the door, and went straight to his den; that wondrous +workshop, where, in one year, 1823, when he was fifty-two, he wrote +"Peveril of the Peak," "Quentin Durward," and "St. Ronan's Well," +besides much else. We once took the foremost of our novelists, the +greatest, we would say, since Scott, into this room, and could not but +mark the solemnizing effect of sitting where the great magician sat so +often and so long, and looking out upon that little shabby bit of sky, +and that back green where faithful Camp lies.[1] + +[Footnote 1: This favorite dog "died about January, 1809, and was +buried, in a fine moonlight night, in the little garden behind the +house in Castle Street. My wife tells me she remembers the whole family +in tears about the grave, as her father himself smoothed the turf above +Camp with the saddest face she had ever seen. He had been engaged to +dine abroad that day, but apologized on account of the death of 'a dear +old friend.'"--_Lockhart's Life of Scott_.] + +He sat down in his large, green morocco elbow-chair, drew himself close +to his table, and glowered and gloomed at his writing apparatus, "a +very handsome old box, richly carved, lined with crimson velvet, and +containing ink-bottles, taper-stand, etc., in silver, the whole in such +order that it might have come from the silversmith's window half an +hour before." He took out his paper, then, starting up angrily, said, +"'Go spin, you jade, go spin.' No, d---- it, it won't do:-- + + 'My spinnin'-wheel is auld and stiff; + The rock o't wunna stand, sir; + To keep the temper-pin in tiff + Employs ower aft my hand, sir.' + +I am off the fang.[2] I can make nothing of 'Waverley' to-day; I'll +awa' to Marjorie. Come wi' me, Maida, you thief." The great creature +rose slowly, and the pair were off, Scott taking a _maud_ (a plaid) +with him. "White as a frosted plum-cake, by jingo!" said he, when he +got to the street. Maida gambolled and whisked among the snow; and her +master strode across to Young Street, and through it to 1 North +Charlotte Street, to the house of his dear friend, Mrs. William Keith +of Corstorphine Hill, niece of Mrs. Keith of Ravelston, of whom he said +at her death, eight years after, "Much tradition, and that of the best, +has died with this excellent old lady, one of the few persons whose +spirits and _cleanliness_ and freshness of mind and body made old age +lovely and desirable." + +[Footnote 2: Applied to a pump when it is dry and its valve has lost +its "fang."] + +Sir Walter was in that house almost every day, and had a key, so in he +and the hound went, shaking themselves in the lobby. "Marjorie! +Marjorie!" shouted her friend, "where are ye, my bonnie wee croodlin +doo?" In a moment a bright, eager child of seven was in his arms, and +he was kissing her all over. Out came Mrs. Keith. "Come yer ways in, +Wattie." "No, not now. I am going to take Marjorie wi' me, and you may +come to your tea in Duncan Roy's sedan, and bring the bairn home in +your lap." "Tak' Marjorie, and it _on-ding o' snaw!_" said Mrs. Keith. +He said to himself, "On-ding--that's odd--that is the very word." +"Hoot, awa'! look here," and he displayed the corner of his plaid, made +to hold lambs,--the true shepherd's plaid, consisting of two breadths +sewed together, and uncut at one end, making a poke or _cul de sac_. +"Tak' yer lamb," said she, laughing at the contrivance; and so the Pet +was first well happit up, and then put, laughing silently, into the +plaid neuk, and the shepherd strode off with his lamb,--Maida +gambolling through the snow, and running races in her mirth. + +Didn't he face "the angry airt," and make her bield his bosom, and into +his own room with her, and lock the door, and out with the warm, rosy +little wifie, who took it all with great composure! There the two +remained for three or more hours, making the house ring with their +laughter; you can fancy the big man's and Maidie's laugh. Having made +the fire cheery, he set her down in his ample chair, and, standing +sheepishly before her, began to say his lesson, which happened to be, +"Ziccotty, diccotty, dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck +wan, down the mouse ran, ziccotty, diccotty, dock." This done +repeatedly till she was pleased, she gave him his new lesson, gravely +and slowly, timing it upon her small fingers,--he saying it after +her,-- + + "Wonery, twoery, tickery, seven; + Alibi, crackaby, ten, and eleven; + Pin, pan, musky, dan; + Tweedle-um, twoddle-um, + Twenty-wan; eerie, orie, ourie, + You, are, out." + +He pretended to great difficulty, and she rebuked him with most comical +gravity, treating him as a child. He used to say that when he came to +Alibi Crackaby he broke down, and pin-Pan, Musky-dan, Tweedle-um, +Twoddle-um made him roar with laughter. He said _Musky-Dan_ especially +was beyond endurance, bringing up an Irishman and his hat fresh from +the Spice Islands and odoriferous Ind; she getting quite bitter in her +displeasure at his ill behavior and stupidness. + +Then he would read ballads to her in his own glorious way, the two +getting wild with excitement over "Gil Morrice" or the "Baron of +Smailholm"; and he would take her on his knee, and make her repeat +Constance's speeches in "King John," till he swayed to and fro, sobbing +his fill. Fancy the gifted little creature, like one possessed, +repeating,-- + + "For I am sick, and capable of fears,-- + Oppressed with wrong, and, therefore, full of fears; + A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; + A woman, naturally born to fears." + + "If thou, that bidst me be content, wert grim, + Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb,-- + Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious--" + +Or, drawing herself up "to the height of her great argument,"-- + + "I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, + For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. + Here I and sorrow sit." + +Scott used to say that he was amazed at her power over him, saying to +Mrs. Keith, "She's the most extraordinary creature I ever met with, and +her repeating of Shakespeare overpowers me as nothing else does." + +Thanks to the little book whose title heads this paper, and thanks +still more to the unforgetting sister of this dear child, who has much +of the sensibility and fun of her who has been in her small grave these +fifty and more years, we have now before us the letters and journals of +Pet Marjorie: before us lies and gleams her rich brown hair, bright and +sunny as if yesterday's, with the words on the paper, "Cut out in her +last illness," and two pictures of her by her beloved Isabella, whom +she worshipped; there are the faded old scraps of paper, hoarded still, +over which her warm breath and her warm little heart had poured +themselves; there is the old watermark, "Lingard, 1808." The two +portraits are very like each other, but plainly done at different +times; it is a chubby, healthy face, deep-set, brooding eyes, as eager +to tell what is going on within as to gather in all the glories from +without; quick with the wonder and the pride of life: they are eyes +that would not be soon satisfied with seeing; eyes that would devour +their object, and yet childlike and fearless; and that is a mouth that +will not be soon satisfied with love; it has a curious likeness to +Scott's own, which has always appeared to us his sweetest, most mobile, +and speaking feature. + +There she is, looking straight at us as she did at him,--fearless, and +full of love, passionate, wild, wilful, fancy's child. One cannot look +at it without thinking of Wordsworth's lines on poor Hartley +Coleridge:-- + + "O blessed vision, happy child! + Thou art so exquisitely wild, + I thought of thee with many fears,-- + Of what might be thy lot in future years. + I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, + Lord of thy house and hospitality; + And Grief, uneasy lover! ne'er at rest + But when she sat within the touch of thee. + O too industrious folly! + O vain and causeless melancholy! + Nature will either end thee quite, + Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, + Preserve for thee, by individual right, + A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flock." + +And we can imagine Scott, when holding his warm, plump little +playfellow in his arms, repeating that stately friend's lines:-- + + "Loving she is, and tractable, though wild; + And Innocence hath privilege in her, + To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes + And feats of cunning, and the pretty round + Of trespasses, affected to provoke + Mock chastisement and partnership in play. + And, as a fagot sparkles on the hearth + Not less if unattended and alone + Than when both young and old sit gathered round + And take delight in its activity, + Even so this happy creature of herself + Is all-sufficient; solitude to her + Is blithe society: she fills the air + With gladness and involuntary songs." + +But we will let her disclose herself. We need hardly say that all this +is true, and that these letters are as really Marjorie's as was this +light brown hair; indeed, you could as easily fabricate the one as the +other. + +There was an old servant--Jeanie Robertson--who was forty years in her +grandfather's family. Marjorie Fleming, or, as she is called in the +letters and by Sir Walter, Maidie, was the last child she kept. +Jeanie's wages never exceeded Ł3 a year, and when she left service she +had saved Ł40. She was devotedly attached to Maidie, rather despising +and ill-using her sister Isabella,--a beautiful and gentle child. This +partiality made Maidie apt at times to domineer over Isabella. "I +mention this," writes her surviving sister, "for the purpose of telling +you an instance of Maidie's generous justice. When only five years old, +when walking in Raith grounds, the two children had run on before, and +old Jeanie remembered they might come too near a dangerous mill-lade. +She called to them to turn back. Maidie heeded her not, rushed all the +faster on, and fell, and would have been lost, had her sister not +pulled her back, saving her life, but tearing her clothes. Jeanie flew +on Isabella to 'give it her' for spoiling her favorite's dress; Maidie +rushed in between, crying out, 'Pay (whip) Maidjie as much as you like, +and I'll not say one word; but touch Isy, and I'll roar like a bull!' +Years after Maidie was resting in her grave, my mother used to take me +to the place, and told the story always in the exact same words." This +Jeanie must have been a character. She took great pride in exhibiting +Maidie's brother William's Calvinistic acquirements when nineteen +months old, to the officers of a militia regiment then quartered in +Kirkcaldy. This performance was so amusing that it was often repeated, +and the little theologian was presented by them with a cap and +feathers. Jeanie's glory was "putting him through the carritch" +(catechism) in broad Scotch, beginning at the beginning with "Wha made +ye, ma bonnie man?" For the correctness of this and the three next +replies, Jeanie had no anxiety, but the tone changed to menace, and the +closed _nieve_ (fist) was shaken in the child's face as she demanded, +"Of what are you made?" "DIRT," was the answer uniformly given. "Wull +ye never learn to say _dust_, ye thrawn deevil?" with a cuff from the +opened hand, was the as inevitable rejoinder. + +Here is Maidie's first letter, before she was six. The spelling is +unaltered, and there are no "commoes." + +"MY DEAR ISA,--I now sit down to answer all your kind and beloved +letters which you was so good as to write to me. This is the first time +I ever wrote a letter in my Life. There are a great many Girls in the +Square, and they cry just like a pig when we are under the painfull +necessity of putting it to Death. Miss Potune, a Lady of my +acquaintance, praises me dreadfully. I repeated something out of Dean +Swift, and she said I was fit for the stage, and you may think I was +primmed up with majestick Pride, but upon my word I felt myselfe turn a +little birsay,--birsay is a word which is a word that William composed +which is as you may suppose a little enraged. This horrid fat simpliton +says that my Aunt is beautifull, which is intirely impossible, for that +is not her nature." + +What a peppery little pen we wield! What could that have been out of +the Sardonic Dean? What other child of that age would have used +"beloved" as she does? This power of affection, this faculty of +_be_loving, and wild hunger to be beloved, comes out more and more. She +perilled her all upon it, and it may have been as well--we know, +indeed, that it was far better--for her that this wealth of love was so +soon withdrawn to its one only infinite Giver and Receiver. This must +have been the law of her earthly life. Love was indeed "her Lord and +King"; and it was perhaps well for her that she found so soon that her +and our only Lord and King Himself is Love. + +Here are bits from her Diary at Braehead: "The day of my existence here +has been delightful and enchanting. On Saturday I expected no less than +three well-made Bucks, the names of whom is here advertised. Mr. Geo. +Crakey (Craigie), and Wm. Keith, and Jn. Keith,--the first is the +funniest of every one of them. Mr. Crakey and I walked to Craky-hall +(Craigiehall), hand in hand in Innocence and matitation (meditation) +sweet thinking on the kind love which flows in our tender-hearted mind +which is overflowing with majestic pleasure no one was ever so polite +to me in the hole state of my existence. Mr. Craky you must know is a +great Buck, and pretty good-looking. + +"I am at Ravelston enjoying nature's fresh air. The birds are singing +sweetly, the calf doth frisk, and nature shows her glorious face." + +Here is a confession: "I confess I have been very more like a little +young divil than a creature for when Isabella went up stairs to teach +me religion and my multiplication and to be good and all my other +lessons I stamped with my foot and threw my new hat which she had made +on the ground and was sulky and was dreadfully passionate, but she +never whiped me but said Marjory go into another room and think what a +great crime you are committing letting your temper git the better of +you. But I went so sulkily that the Devil got the better of me but she +never never never whips me so that I think I would be the better of it +and the next time that I behave ill I think she should do it for she +never never does it.... Isabella has given me praise for checking my +temper for I was sulky even when she was kneeling an hole hour teaching +me to write." + +Our poor little wifie,--_she_ has no doubts of the personality of the +Devil! "Yesterday I behave extremely ill in God's most holy church for +I would never attend myself nor let Isabella attend which was a great +crime for she often, often tells me that when to or three are geathered +together God is in the midst of them, and it was the very same Divil +that tempted Job that tempted me I am sure; but he resisted Satan +though he had boils and many many other misfortunes which I have +escaped.... I am now going to tell you the horible and wretched plaege +(plague) that my multiplication gives me you can't conceive it the most +Devilish thing is 8 times 8 and 7 times 7 it is what nature itself cant +endure." + +This is delicious; and what harm is there in her "Devilish"? It is +strong language merely; even old Rowland Hill used to say "he grudged +the Devil those rough and ready words." "I walked to that delightful +place Craky-hall with a delightful young man beloved by all his friends +espacially by me his loveress, but I must not talk any more about him +for Isa said it is not proper for to speak of gentalmen but I will +never forget him!... I am very very glad that satan has not given me +boils and many other misfortunes--In the holy bible these words are +written that the Devil goes like a roaring lyon in search of his pray +but the lord lets us escape from him but we" (_pauvre petite!_) "do not +strive with this awfull Spirit.... To-day I pronunced a word which +should never come out of a lady's lips it was that I called John a +Impudent Bitch. I will tell you what I think made me in so bad a humor +is I got one or two of that bad bad sina (senna) tea to-day,"--a better +excuse for bad humor and bad language than most. + +She has been reading the Book of Esther: "It was a dreadful thing that +Haman was hanged on the very gallows which he had prepared for Mordeca +to hang him and his ten sons thereon and it was very wrong and cruel to +hang his sons for they did not commit the crime; _but then Jesus was +not then come to teach us to be merciful._" This is wise and +beautiful,--has upon it the very dew of youth and of holiness. Out of +the mouths of babes and sucklings He perfects His praise. + +"This is Saturday and I am very glad of it because I have play half the +Day and I get money too but alas I owe Isabella 4 pence for I am finned +2 pence whenever I bite my nails. Isabella is teaching me to make simme +colings nots of interrigations peorids commoes, etc.... As this is +Sunday I will meditate upon Senciable and Religious subjects. First I +should be very thankful I am not a begger." + +This amount of meditation and thankfulness seems to have been all she +was able for. + +"I am going to-morrow to a delightfull place, Braehead by name, +belonging to Mrs. Crraford, where there is ducks cocks hens bubblyjocks +2 dogs 2 cats and swine which is delightful. I think it is shocking to +think that the dog and cat should bear them" (this is a meditation +physiological), "and they are drowned after all. I would rather have a +man-dog than a woman-dog, because they do not bear like women-dogs; it +is a hard case--it is shocking. I cam here to enjoy natures delightful +breath it is sweeter than a fial (phial) of rose oil." + +Braehead is the farm the historical Jock Howison asked and got from our +gay James the Fifth, "the gudeman o' Ballengiech," as a reward for the +services of his flail, when the King had the worst of it at Cramond +Brig with the gypsies. The farm is unchanged in size from that time, +and still in the unbroken line of the ready and victorious thrasher. +Braehead is held on the condition of the possessor being ready to +present the King with a ewer and basin to wash his hands, Jock having +done this for his unknown king after the _splore_, and when George the +Fourth came to Edinburgh this ceremony was performed in silver at +Holyrood. It is a lovely neuk this Braehead, preserved almost as it was +200 years ago. "Lot and his wife," mentioned by Maidie,--two quaintly +cropped yew-trees,--still thrive, the burn runs as it did in her time, +and sings the same quiet tune,--as much the same and as different as +_Now_ and _Then_. The house full of old family relics and pictures, the +sun shining on them through the small deep windows with their plate +glass; and there, blinking at the sun, and chattering contentedly, is a +parrot, that might, for its looks of eld, have been in the ark, and +domineered over and _deaved_ the dove. Everything about the place is +old and fresh. + +This is beautiful: "I am very sorry to say that I forgot God--that is +to say I forgot to pray to-day and Isabella told me that I should be +thankful that God did not forget me--if he did, O what would become of +me if I was in danger and God not friends with me--I must go to +unquenchable fire and if I was tempted to sin--how could I resist it O +no I will never do it again--no no--if I can help it!" (Canny wee +wifie!) "My religion is greatly falling off because I dont pray with so +much attention when I am saying my prayers, and my charecter is lost +among the Braehead people. I hope I will be religious again--but as for +regaining my charecter I despare for it." (Poor little "habit and +repute"!) + +Her temper, her passion, and her "badness" are almost daily confessed +and deplored: "I will never again trust to my own power, for I see that +I cannot be good without God's assistance,--I will not trust in my own +selfe, and Isa's health will be quite ruined by me,--it will indeed." +"Isa has giving me advice, which is, that when I feal Satan beginning +to tempt me, that I flea him and he would flea me." "Remorse is the +worst thing to bear, and I am afraid that I will fall a marter to it." + +Poor dear little sinner! Here comes the world again: "In my travels I +met with a handsome lad named Charles Balfour Esq., and from him I got +ofers of marage--offers of marage, did I say? Nay plenty heard me." A +fine scent for "breach of promise"! + +This is abrupt and strong: "The Divil is curced and all his works. 'Tis +a fine work _Newton on the profecies_. I wonder if there is another +book of poems comes near the Bible. The Divil always girns at the sight +of the Bible." "Miss Potune" (her "simpliton" friend) "is very fat; she +pretends to be very learned. She says she saw a stone that dropt from +the skies; but she is a good Christian." Here comes her views on church +government: "An Annibabtist is a thing I am not a member of--I am a +Pisplekan (Episcopalian) just now, and" (O you little Laodicean and +Latitudinarian!) "a Prisbeteran at Kirkcaldy!"--(_Blandula! Vagula! +coelum et animum mutas quć trans mare_ (i.e. _trans +Bodotriam_)--_curris!_)--"my native town." "Sentiment is not what I am +acquainted with as yet, though I wish it, and should like to practise +it." (!) "I wish I had a great, great deal of gratitude in my heart, in +all my body." "There is a new novel published, named _Self-Control_" +(Mrs. Brunton's)--"a very good maxim forsooth!" This is shocking: +"Yesterday a marrade man, named Mr. John Balfour, Esq., offered to kiss +me, and offered to marry me, though the man" (a fine directness this!) +"was espused, and his wife was present and said he must ask her +permission; but he did not. I think he was ashamed and confounded +before 3 gentelman--Mr. Jobson and 2 Mr. Kings." "Mr. Banester's" +(Bannister's) "Budjet is to-night; I hope it will be a good one. A +great many authors have expressed themselves too sentimentally." You +are right, Marjorie. "A Mr. Burns writes a beautiful song on Mr. +Cunhaming, whose wife desarted him--truly it is a most beautiful one." +"I like to read the Fabulous historys, about the histerys of Robin, +Dickey, flapsay, and Peccay, and it is very amusing, for some were good +birds and others bad, but Peccay was the most dutiful and obedient to +her parients." "Thomson is a beautiful author, and Pope, but nothing to +Shakespear, of which I have a little knolege. 'Macbeth' is a pretty +composition, but awful one." "The _Newgate Calender_ is very +instructive." (!) "A sailor called here to say farewell; it must be +dreadful to leave his native country when he might get a wife; or +perhaps me, for I love him very much. But O I forgot, Isabella forbid +me to speak about love." This antiphlogistic regimen and lesson is ill +to learn by our Maidie, for here she sins again: "Love is a very +papithatick thing" (it is almost a pity to correct this into pathetic), +"as well as troublesome and tiresome--but O Isabella forbid me to speak +of it." Here are her reflections on a pineapple: "I think the price of +a pine-apple is very dear: it is a whole bright goulden guinea, that +might have sustained a poor family." Here is a new vernal simile: "The +hedges are sprouting like chicks from the eggs when they are newly +hatched or, as the vulgar say, _clacked_." "Doctor Swift's works are +very funny; I got some of them by heart." "Moreheads sermons are I hear +much praised, but I never read sermons of any kind; but I read +novelettes and my Bible, and I never forget it, or my prayers." Bravo, +Marjorie! + +She seems now, when still about six, to have broken out into song:-- + +"EPHIBOL (EPIGRAM OR EPITAPH,--WHO KNOWS WHICH?) ON MY DEAR LOVE, +ISABELLA. + + "Here lies sweet Isabel in bed, + With a night-cap on her head; + Her skin is soft, her face is fair, + And she has very pretty hair: + She and I in bed lies nice, + And undisturbed by rats or mice. + She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan, + Though he plays upon the organ. + Her nails are neat, her teeth are white; + Her eyes are very, very bright. + In a conspicuous town she lives, + And to the poor her money gives. + Here ends sweet Isabella's story, + And may it be much to her glory!" + +Here are some bits at random:-- + + "Of summer I am very fond, + And love to bathe into a pond: + The look of sunshine dies away, + And will not let me out to play. + I love the morning's sun to spy + Glittering through the casement's eye; + The rays of light are very sweet, + And puts away the taste of meat. + The balmy breeze comes down from heaven, + And makes us like for to be living." + +"The casawary is an curious bird, and so is the gigantic crane, and the +pelican of the wilderness, whose mouth holds a bucket of fish and +water. Fighting is what ladies is not qualyfied for, they would not +make a good figure in battle or in a duel. Alas! we females are of +little use to our country. The history of all the malcontents as ever +was hanged is amusing." Still harping on the Newgate Calendar! + +"Braehead is extremely pleasant to me by the companie of swine, geese, +cocks, etc., and they are the delight of my soul." + +"I am going to tell you of a melancholy story. A young turkie of 2 or 3 +months old, would you believe it, the father broke its leg, and he +killed another! I think he ought to be transported or hanged." + +"Queen Street is a very gay one, and so is Princes Street, for all the +lads and lasses, besides bucks and beggars parade there." + +"I should like to see a play very much, for I never saw one in all my +life, and don't believe I ever shall; but I hope I can be content +without going to one. I can be quite happy without my desire being +granted." + +"Some days ago Isabella had a terrible fit of the toothake, and she +walked with a long night-shift at dead of night like a ghost, and I +thought she was one. She prayed for nature's sweet restorer--balmy +sleep--but did not get it--a ghostly figure indeed she was, enough to +make a saint tremble. It made me quiver and shake from top to toe. +Superstition is a very mean thing and should be despised and shunned." + +Here is her weakness and her strength again: "In the love-novels all +the heroines are very desperate. Isabella will not allow me to speak +about lovers and heroins, and 'tis too refined for my taste." "Miss +Egward's (Edgeworth's) tails are very good, particularly some that are +very much adapted for youth (!) as Laz Laurance and Tarelton, False +Keys, etc. etc." + +"Tom Jones and Grey's Elegey in a country churchyard are both +excellent, and much spoke of by both sex, particularly by the men." Are +our Marjories nowadays better or worse because they cannot read Tom +Jones unharmed? More better than worse; but who among them can repeat +Gray's Lines on a distant prospect of Eton College as could our Maidie? + +Here is some more of her prattle: "I went into Isabella's bed to make +her smile like the Genius Demedicus" (the Venus de Medicis) "or the +statute in an ancient Greece, but she fell asleep in my very face, at +which my anger broke forth, so that I awoke her from a comfortable nap. +All was now hushed up again, but again my anger burst forth at her +biding me get up." + +She begins thus loftily,-- + + "Death the righteous love to see, + But from it doth the wicked flee." + +Then suddenly breaks off as if with laughter,-- + + "I am sure they fly as fast as their legs can carry them!" + + "There is a thing I love to see,-- + That is, our monkey catch a flee!" + + "I love in Isa's bed to lie,-- + Oh, such a joy and luxury! + The bottom of the bed I sleep, + And with great care within I creep; + Oft I embrace her feet of lillys, + But she has goton all the pillys. + Her neck I never can embrace, + But I do hug her feet in place." + +How childish and yet how strong and free is her use of words!--"I lay +at the foot of the bed because Isabella said I disturbed her by +continial fighting and kicking, but I was very dull, and continially at +work reading the Arabian Nights, which I could not have done if I had +slept at the top. I am reading the Mysteries of Udolpho. I am much +interested in the fate of poor, poor Emily." + +Here is one of her swains:-- + + "Very soft and white his cheeks; + His hair is red, and grey his breeks; + His tooth is like the daisy fair: + His only fault is in his hair." + +This is a higher flight:-- + + "DEDICATED TO MRS. H. CRAWFORD BY THE AUTHOR, M. F. + + "Three turkeys fair their last have breathed, + And now this world forever leaved; + Their father, and their mother too, + They sigh and weep as well as you: + Indeed, the rats their bones have crunched; + Into eternity theire laanched. + A direful death indeed they had, + As wad put any parent mad; + But she was more than usual calm: + She did not give a single dam." + +This last word is saved from all sin by its tender age, not to speak of +the want of the _n_. We fear "she" is the abandoned mother, in spite of +her previous sighs and tears. + +"Isabella says when we pray we should pray fervently, and not rattel +over a prayer,--for that we are kneeling at the footstool of our Lord +and Creator, who saves us from eternal damnation, and from +unquestionable fire and brimston." + +She has a long poem on Mary Queen of Scots:-- + + "Queen Mary was much loved by all, + Both by the great and by the small; + But hark! her soul to heaven doth rise, + And I suppose she has gained a prize; + For I do think she would not go + Into the _awful_ place below. + There is a thing that I must tell,-- + Elizabeth went to fire and hell! + He who would teach her to be civil, + It must be her great friend, the divil!" + +She hits off Darnley well:-- + + "A noble's son,--a handsome lad,-- + By some queer way or other, had + Got quite the better of her heart; + With him she always talked apart: + Silly he was, but very fair; + A greater buck was not found there." + +"By some queer way or other"; is not this the general case and the +mystery, young ladies and gentlemen? Goethe's doctrine of "elective +affinities" discovered by our Pet Maidie. + + SONNET TO A MONKEY. + + "O lively, O most charming pug! + Thy graceful air and heavenly mug! + The beauties of his mind do shine, + And every bit is shaped and fine. + Your teeth are whiter than the snow; + Your a great buck, your a great beau; + Your eyes are of so nice a shape, + More like a Christian's than an ape; + Your cheek is like the rose's blume; + Your hair is like the raven's plume; + His nose's cast is of the Roman: + He is a very pretty woman. + I could not get a rhyme for Roman, + So was obliged to call him woman." + +This last joke is good. She repeats it when writing of James the Second +being killed at Roxburgh:-- + + "He was killed by a cannon splinter, + Quite in the middle of the winter; + Perhaps it was not at that time, + But I can get no other rhyme!" + +Here is one of her last letters, dated Kirkcaldy, 12th October, 1811. +You can see how her nature is deepening and enriching:-- + +"MY DEAR MOTHER,--You will think that I entirely forget you but I +assure you that you are greatly mistaken. I think of you always and +often sigh to think of the distance between us two loving creatures of +nature. We have regular hours for all our occupations first at 7 +o'clock we go to the dancing and come home at 8 we then read our Bible +and get our repeating, and then play till ten, then we get our music +till 11 when we get our writing and accounts we sew from 12 till 1 +after which I get my gramer, and then work till five. At 7 we come and +knit till 8 when we dont go to the dancing. This is an exact +description. I must take a hasty farewell to her whom I love, reverence +and doat on and who I hope thinks the same of + +"MARJORY FLEMING. + +"_P.S._--An old pack of cards (!) would be very exeptible." + +This other is a month earlier:-- + +"MY DEAR LITTLE MAMA,--I was truly happy to hear that you were all +well. We are surrounded with measles at present on every side, for the +Herons got it, and Isabella Heron was near Death's Door, and one night +her father lifted her out of bed, and she fell down as they thought +lifeless. Mr. Heron said, 'That lassie's deed noo,'--'I'm no deed yet.' +She then threw up a big worm nine inches and a half long. I have begun +dancing, but am not very fond of it, for the boys strikes and mocks +me.--I have been another night at the dancing; I like it better. I will +write to you as often as I can; but I am afraid not every week. _I long +for you with the longings of a child to embrace you,--to fold you in my +arms. I respect you with all the respect due to a mother. You dont know +how I love you. So I shall remain, your loving child,_--M. FLEMING." + +What rich involution of love in the words marked! Here are some lines +to her beloved Isabella, in July, 1811:-- + + "There is a thing that I do want,-- + With you these beauteous walks to haunt; + We would be happy if you would + Try to come over if you could. + Then I would all quite happy be + _Now and for all eternity_. + My mother is so very sweet, + _And checks my appetite to eat;_ + My father shows us what to do; + But O I'm sure that I want you. + I have no more of poetry; + O Isa do remember me, + And try to love your Marjory." + +In a letter from "Isa" to + + "Miss Muff Maidie Marjory Fleming, + favored by Rare Rear-Admiral Fleming," + +she says: "I long much to see you, and talk over all our old stories +together, and to hear you read and repeat. I am pining for my old +friend Cesario, and poor Lear, and wicked Richard. How is the dear +Multiplication table going on? Are you still as much attached to 9 +times 9 as you used to be?" + +But this dainty, bright thing is about to flee,--to come "quick to +confusion." The measles she writes of seized her, and she died on the +19th of December, 1811. The day before her death, Sunday, she sat up in +bed, worn and thin, her eye gleaming as with the light of a coming +world, and with a tremulous, old voice repeated the following lines by +Burns,--heavy with the shadow of death, and lit with the fantasy of the +judgment-seat,--the publican's prayer in paraphrase:-- + + "Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene? + Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?-- + Some drops of joy, with draughts of ill between, + Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms? + Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? + Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode? + For guilt, for GUILT, my terrors are in arms; + I tremble to approach an angry God, + And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. + + "Fain would I say, Forgive my foul offence, + Fain promise never more to disobey; + But should my Author health again dispense, + Again I might forsake fair virtue's way, + Again in folly's path might go astray, + Again exalt the brute and sink the man. + Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray, + Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan, + Who sin so oft have mourned, yet to temptation ran? + + "O thou great Governor of all below, + If I might dare a lifted eye to thee, + Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, + And still the tumult of the raging sea; + With that controlling power assist even me + Those headstrong furious passions to confine, + For all unfit I feel my powers to be + To rule their torrent in the allowed line; + O, aid me with thy help, OMNIPOTENCE DIVINE." + +It is more affecting than we care to say to read her mother's and +Isabella Keith's letters written immediately after her death. Old and +withered, tattered and pale, they are now: but when you read them, how +quick, how throbbing with life and love! how rich in that language of +affection which only women and Shakespeare and Luther can use,--that +power of detaining the soul over the beloved object and its loss! + + "K. PHILIP (_to_ CONSTANCE). + + You are as fond of grief as of your child. + + CONSTANCE. + + Grief fills the room up of my absent child, + Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; + Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, + Remembers me of all his gracious parts, + Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. + Then I have reason to be fond of grief." + +What variations cannot love play on this one string! + +In her first letter to Miss Keith, Mrs. Fleming says of her dead +Maidie: "Never did I behold so beautiful an object. It resembled the +finest waxwork. There was in the countenance an expression of sweetness +and serenity which seemed to indicate that the pure spirit had +anticipated the joys of heaven ere it quitted the mortal frame. To tell +you what your Maidie said of you would fill volumes; for you was the +constant theme of her discourse, the subject of her thoughts, and ruler +of her actions. The last time she mentioned you was a few hours before +all sense save that of suffering was suspended, when she said to Dr. +Johnstone, 'If you let me out at the New Year, I will be quite +contented.' I asked her what made her so anxious to get out then. 'I +want to purchase a New Year's gift for Isa Keith with the sixpence you +gave me for being patient in the measles; and I would like to choose it +myself.' I do not remember her speaking afterwards, except to complain +of her head, till just before she expired, when she articulated, 'O +mother! mother!'" + + * * * * * + +Do we make too much of this little child, who has been in her grave in +Abbotshall Kirkyard these fifty and more years? We may of her +cleverness,--not of her affectionateness, her nature. What a picture +the _animosa infans_ gives us of herself,--her vivacity, her +passionateness, her precocious love-making, her passion for nature, for +swine, for all living things, her reading, her turn for expression, her +satire, her frankness, her little sins and rages, her great +repentances! We don't wonder Walter Scott carried her off in the neuk +of his plaid, and played himself with her for hours. + +The year before she died, when in Edinburgh, she was at a Twelfth Night +Supper at Scott's, in Castle Street. The company had all come,--all but +Marjorie. Scott's familiars, whom we all know, were there,--all were +come but Marjorie; and all were dull because Scott was dull. "Where's +that bairn? what can have come over her? I'll go myself and see." And +he was getting up, and would have gone; when the bell rang, and in came +Duncan Roy and his henchman Tougald, with the sedan chair, which was +brought right into the lobby, and its top raised. And there, in its +darkness and dingy old cloth, sat Maidie in white, her eyes gleaming, +and Scott bending over her in ecstasy,--"hung over her enamored." "Sit +ye there, my dautie, till they all see you"; and forthwith he brought +them all. You can fancy the scene. And he lifted her up and marched to +his seat with her on his stout shoulder, and set her down beside him; +and then began the night, and such a night! Those who knew Scott best +said, that night was never equalled; Maidie and he were the stars; and +she gave them _Constance's_ speeches and "Helvellyn," the ballad then +much in vogue, and all her _répertoire_,--Scott showing her off, and +being ofttimes rebuked by her for his intentional blunders. + +We are indebted for the following to her sister: "Her birth was 15th +January, 1803; her death, 19th December, 1811. I take this from her +Bibles.[3] I believe she was a child of robust health, of much vigor of +body, and beautifully formed arms, and, until her last illness, never +was an hour in bed. + +[Footnote 3: "Her Bible is before me; _a pair_, as then called; the +faded marks are just as she placed them. There is one at David's lament +over Jonathan."] + +"I have to ask you to forgive my anxiety in gathering up the fragments +of Marjorie's last days, but I have an almost sacred feeling to all +that pertains to her. You are quite correct in stating that measles +were the cause of her death. My mother was struck by the patient +quietness manifested by Marjorie during this illness, unlike her +ardent, impulsive nature; but love and poetic feeling were unquenched. +When Dr. Johnstone rewarded her submissiveness with a sixpence, the +request speedily followed that she might get out ere New Year's day +came. When asked why she was so desirous of getting out, she +immediately rejoined, 'O, I am so anxious to buy something with my +sixpence for my dear Isa Keith.' Again, when lying very still, her +mother asked her if there was anything she wished: 'O yes! if you would +just leave the room-door open a wee bit, and play "The Land o' the +Leal," and I will lie and _think_, and enjoy myself' (this is just as +stated to me by her mother and mine). Well, the happy day came, alike +to parents and child, when Marjorie was allowed to come forth from the +nursery to the parlor. It was Sabbath evening, and after tea. My +father, who idolized this child, and never afterwards in my hearing +mentioned her name, took her in his arms; and, while walking her up and +down the room, she said, 'Father, I will repeat something to you; what +would you like?' He said, 'Just choose yourself, Maidie.' She hesitated +for a moment between the paraphrase, 'Few are thy days, and full of +woe,' and the lines of Burns already quoted, but decided on the latter, +a remarkable choice for a child. The repeating these lines seemed to +stir up the depths of feeling in her soul. She asked to be allowed to +write a poem; there was a doubt whether it would be right to allow her, +in case of hurting her eyes. She pleaded earnestly, 'Just this once'; +the point was yielded, her slate was given her, and with great rapidity +she wrote an address of fourteen lines, 'to her loved cousin on the +author's recovery,' her last work on earth;-- + + 'Oh! Isa, pain did visit me, + I was at the last extremity; + How often did I think of you, + I wished your graceful form to view, + To clasp you in my weak embrace, + Indeed I thought I'd run my race: + Good care, I'm sure, was of me taken, + But still indeed I was much shaken, + At last I daily strength did gain, + And oh! at last, away went pain; + At length the doctor thought I might + Stay in the parlor all the night; + I now continue so to do, + Farewell to Nancy and to you.' + +"She went to bed apparently well, awoke in the middle of the night with +the old cry of woe to a mother's heart, 'My head, my head!' Three days +of the dire malady, 'water in the head,' followed, and the end came." + + "Soft, silken primrose, fading timelessly." + +It is needless, it is impossible, to add anything to this: the fervor, +the sweetness, the flush of poetic ecstasy, the lovely and glowing eye, +the perfect nature of that bright and warm intelligence, that darling +child,--Lady Nairne's words, and the old tune, stealing up from the +depths of the human heart, deep calling unto deep, gentle and strong +like the waves of the great sea hushing themselves to sleep in the +dark; the words of Burns touching the kindred chord, her last numbers +"wildly sweet" traced with thin and eager fingers, already touched by +the last enemy and friend,--_moriens canit_,--and that love which is so +soon to be her everlasting light, is her song's burden to the end. + + "She set as sets the morning star, which goes + Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides + Obscured among the tempests of the sky, + But melts away into the light of heaven." + + + + +LITTLE JAKEY. + +BY MRS. S. H. DEKROYFT. + + +I. + +At the time of the opening of this story, there were in the rear of the +New York Institution for the Blind, two small but pleasant parks, full +of trees and winding walks, where the birds sang, and blind boys and +girls ran and played. The little gate between the two parks was usually +left open during school hours, and one bright June morning, while the +sun was drinking up the dews from the leaves and the flowers, I chanced +to be walking there, and I heard the little gate opening and shutting, +opening and shutting; rattle went the chain, then bang went the gate, +until suddenly, as I was passing it, a little voice saluted me, so +sweet and musical and up so high, that for the moment I almost fancied +one of the birds had stopped his song to speak with me. + +"I know you. I knows ven you come. Sometimes you tell stories to ze +girls, and I hear you ven I bees dis side." + +Going up and putting my hand on the little speaker's head, I said,-- + +"Pray, what little girl is this here, with these long pretty curls, +swinging on the gate?" + +"I bees not a girl,--I bees a boy, I be." + +Then passing my hand down over a little coat covered with buttons, I +said,-- + +"Surely, so you are a little boy; but what is your name?" + +"My name bees Little Jakey; dot is my name." + +"Little Jakey! Indeed! and pray, when did you come here?" + +Quick as thought his little foot struck out against the post again, and +the gate went flying to and fro, as before; then coming to a sudden +halt, he said,-- + +"Vell, I tink I tell you. I bees here von Sunday and von Sunday and +_von_ Sunday; so long I bees here." + +"How old are you, Jakey?" + +"I bees seving; dot is my old,--dot is how old I bees." + +"And can you not see?" + +"No, I not see. Ven Gott make my eyes, my moder say he not put ze light +in zem." + +"And are you going to school here, Jakey?" + +"Yes, some ze time I go in ze school, and I read ze letters mit my +fing-er. Von letter vot live on ze top ze line, I know him, ven I put +my fing-er on him; hees name bees A; and von oder letter, I know him, +ven I put my fing-er on him,--round like ze hoop; hees name bees O." + +"Who teaches you the letters, Little Jakey?" + +"Cassie, ce teach me, but all ze time ce laugh, ven I say ze vords; so +Miss Setland sen her avay, and now Libbie, ce teach me. But not much I +go in ze school. I come down here mit ze birds in ze trees. Up to ze +house ze birds not go. Eddy and Villy, and all ze boys, ven zey play, +make big noise, and zey scare ze birds. But down here zey not scare, +and all ze time zey sing." + +"You love the birds, Jakey?" + +"Yes, I love ze birds. I love von bird up in dot tree. You not see him +vay high dare? Ven I have eat my dinner in ze morning, I come down +here, and ven I have eat my dinner in ze noon, I come down here; and +all ze time, ven I come, he sing. Sometimes some oder birds come in ze +tree, and zey sing mit him; but all ze time he sing. I vish I sing like +ze birds. I vish I have vings, and I go vay high in ze sky, vare ze +stars be. Gott make ze stars, and Georgy say dot zey shine vay down in +ze vater, he see zem dare; and von time I tell him dot he vill get me +von mit hees hook vot he catch ze fishes mit; but he laugh and say dot +he cannot. But I tink I see ze stars ven I come im Himmel mit"-- + +"Im Himmel! Where is that, Jakey? Where is Himmel?" + +"Vy! you not know dot? Himmel bees vare Gott live." + +I caught him down from the gate in my arms, and nearly smothered him +with kisses. + +Then he put his hands up and felt my face over, so softly and tenderly, +that I fancied his little creeping fingers reading there every thought +in my heart; and finally, clasping his loving arms around my neck, he +said, in a voice hardly above a whisper,-- + +"I love you,--you love me?" + +"I do indeed love you, you dear lamb," I said; but I could hardly +speak, my voice was so choked with tears. Perceiving this, he rested +his little hand softly on my cheek again, and whispered timidly,-- + +"Vy for you cry?" + +But hearing some one approaching, and fearing to be disturbed, I took +his little hand in mine and led him away, across the park, to a seat +under the big mulberry, where I held him long and lovingly on my lap, +as I did often afterwards, while coaxing from his sweet lips the +following chapters of his strange little life. + + +II. + +Little Jakey was indeed _little_ Jakey. I have often seen boys three +years old both taller and heavier; but never one more perfect in form +and feature. His little feet and hands might have belonged to a fairy. +His black eyes were bright and full, with long lashes and arched brows. +His long curls were blacker than the raven, and while holding him there +in my arms, I could think of nothing but a beautiful cherub with folded +wings, astray from heaven. After smoothing down his curls awhile, and +kissing him many times, I said to him,-- + +"Dear Jakey, pray where did you come from, and who brought you here?" + +Then dropping both his little hands in mine, he said,-- + +"I come fon Germany. My moder, ce bring me. I come mit her, and mit ze +baby. Ven I come in ze America, ze flowers bees in ze garden, and ze +birds bees in ze trees, and ze opples bees on ze trees, and ze +pot-a-toes bees in ze ground. Zen ze vinds blow and ze birds go avay, +and ze opples bees in ze cellar, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze cellar. +Zen ze vinds blow too hard and ze snow bees on ze ground, and it bees +cold vinter. Zen long time ze snow go avay, and ze leaves come on ze +trees, and ze birds come back again, and it bees varm; so long I bees +in ze America." + +"And so you have been here one year? But pray, dear, where is your +father? Is he dead?" + +"No, he bees not dead. He bees in Germany, mit Jeem and mit Fred and +mit my granfader." + +"But, Jakey, why did your mother come away here to America, and leave +your father away there in Germany?" + +I felt his little hands stir in mine; but after a moment he drew a +little sigh and said,-- + +"Vell, I tink I tell you. My granfader have some lands, some big lands +he have, and he sell zem; and may be he not buy it, but he get von big +house in ze city, mit vindows vay down to ze ground, and in ze vindows +he put--I not know vot you call zem, but zey have vine in zem, and beer +in zem." + +"Bottles, Jakey?" + +"Yes, dot bees it, bottles mit vine and mit beer in zem; and my fader +go dare, and he give my granfader ze pennies, and he drink ze vine and +he drink ze beer. Much times and all ze time he go dare, and he do dot. +And von day he come home, and he have drunk too much ze beer, and hees +head go von vay and von vay; and he say vicked vords, and my moder ce +cry. Jeem and Fred bees afraid, and zey hide; but I bees not afraid, I +bees mit my moder. And ven my fader tink he sit down on ze chair, he go +vay fall on ze floor; and ven Jeem and Fred hear him, zey run out, and +ven zey see him dare on ze floor, zey laugh; and my fader say dot he +vill kill zem, and he vill trow ze chair at zem, but too quick zey run +avay; and all ze time my moder ce cry and ce cry, and ce not eat ze +dinner, and ce make my fader go lay on ze bed. + +"Von time my fader come home and he have drunk too much ze beer, and he +have sold ze piano. And von time he come home and he have drunk too +much ze beer, and he have sold ze harp; and ze man come mit him vot +have buy it; and ven ze harp go avay, my moder ce cry, and my fader +strike her mit hees hand, and he strike Jeem and Fred; and me he vill +strike, but my moder ce not let him. + +"Von oder time ze men come dare, and zey take avay all ze tings vot my +moder have,--ze chair, and ze sofa, and all ze tings. Zen my moder ce +go live in von leetle house, and some ze time ce not have ze fire dare, +and some ze time ce not have ze bread. And von time in ze night my +fader come home, and he bring too much men mit him vot have drunk ze +beer; and he tell my moder dot ce give ze men ze supper. And my moder +say dot ce have not ze supper, ce have not ze fire, and ce have not ze +bread; and ven ce tell ze men go avay, zey say bad vords to my moder, +and my fader he strike her dot ce go on ze floor. Zen mit her hair he +drag her to ze door, and mit hees feets he strike her vay out on ze +stone, and her head bleed. And Jeem he see her dare, and he cry, and +Fred cry, and I cry; and my moder ce groan like ce die. And von ze men +vot come mit him strike my fader, and von oder man strike _him_, and +zey say vicked vords, and zey all strike, and zey break ze tings. And +vile zey do dot, my moder ce get up, and ce come avay in ze dark, and +Jeem and Fred come mit her, and I come mit her, and long vay ce sit +down on ze stone by ze big house; and Jeem bees cold dare, and he cry; +and Fred bees cold, and he cry. I bees not cold, I not cry, my moder ce +hold me tight; but all ze time ce cry. + +"Zen long time ze man vot live in ze big house open ze door, and he say +some vords to my moder, and my moder ce tell him dot my fader have got +ze bad men mit him in ze house, and he tell my moder dot ce come in; +and Jeem and Fred zey go up ze step, and ze man he lif me, and my moder +ce come up ze step; and ven ce come in, ze man see ze blood, vare my +fader have strike her, and he go tell ze lady dot ce come, and ze lady +vash my moder's head, and ce give her ze medicine vot ce drink. Zen ce +lay her on ze bed, and I lay on ze bed mit her; and Jeem and Fred zey +go in von leetle bed to ze fire. + +"In ze morning my moder come home, and my fader sleep dare on ze floor, +and vile he sleep, he make big noise mit hees nose; and Jeem and Fred +laugh, cause my fader make big noise mit hees nose, but my moder ce +cry. + +"Long time Jeem bees hungry and he cry, Fred bees hungry and he cry, +but my moder say ce have not ze meat and ce have not ze bread. Zen long +time my fader vake, and ven he see my moder dare, he say dot he vill be +good, dot he vill not drink ze vine and ze beer any more; and he kiss +my moder, and he say dot he love her, and dot he vill get ze fire, and +he vill get ze bread, but he have not ze money. Zen my moder say dot ce +vill give him ze vatch vot ce have, ven ce vas mit her moder in Italy, +to get ze money mit, but ce tink ven he get ze money he vill drink ze +beer. My fader say No! vile he live and vile he die, he not drink any +more ze beer; and he kiss Jeem and he kiss Fred and he kiss me, and he +tell my moder dot ven he sell ze vatch, he vill bring ze money, and he +vill get ze fire, and he vill get ze meat and ze bread. Zen my moder ce +get him ze vatch, and he go avay. + +"Long time he not come. Zen long time in ze night he come, and he bring +ze bread mit him, but he have drunk ze beer. My moder tell him dot he +have, and he say dot he have not; but all ze time hees head go von vay +and von vay, and some ze vords he speak, and some ze vords he not +speak. My moder ce tell him, Vare ze money vot he get mit ze vatch? and +he say dot he have not ze money, dot he not sell ze vatch. Zen my moder +say, Vare ze vatch den? and he say dot he have loss it, dot vile he +sell it, von man get it! But my moder say No, he have got ze money and +he have drunk ze beer mit ze bad men, ce know he have. Zen my fader +strike her von time and von time; and ven ce go on ze floor, he strike +her dare mit hees feets, and ce not move, like ce be dead, and he say +he vill kill her, he vill, he vill! And Jeem scream and Fred scream, +and my fader get ze big knife vot he cut ze bread mit, and he lif it +vay high, and say loud much times dot he vill kill zem all! But ze men +vot vatch in ze night come in, and ven zey see my fader dare mit ze +knife, zey put ze chain on hees feets and on hees hands, and zey go +avay mit him. And quick von man come back mit ze doctor, and ven, mit +hees leetle knife, he have make my moder's arm bleed, ce speak, and ce +say, Vare my fader be? and ze man tell her dot zey have lock him up, +and he vill be hang mit ze rope; and my moder ce cry, and long time ce +bees sick in ze bed." + + +III. + +"Did your mother come from Italy, Jakey?" + +"Yes; ven my fader have not drunk ze beer, he make ze peoples mit ze +brush; and he go in Italy, and ven he have make my moder dare mit ze +brush, ce love him, and ce run away mit him ven her moder not know it. +And ven ce come in Germany, von oder time he make her mit ze brush, and +ce hang on ze vall; and Jeem he make, and Fred he make mit ze brush, +and zey hang on ze vall. Much ze peoples he make mit ze brush, and zey +give him ze money. Me he not make, but my moder ce make me mit ze +leetle brush; but ven I bees made, I not hang on ze vall, I bees sut +like ze book. And ce make Jeem dot vay, and Fred dot vay, and ce keep +zem. Von time my fader go to ze drawer, and he get zem all, and he go +avay and he sell zem, and he get ze money; and ven my moder know it, ce +come vare ze man be vot have buy zem, and I come mit her, and ce give +him ze ring fon her fing-er, and ce get me back and ce hide me. + +"Von time my fader have sell my moder vot hang on ze vall, and ze man +come dare, and my fader have take her down, and Jeem cry and Fred cry; +and Fred say let hees go, and Jeem say let hees go, but my moder say +no, and ze man go avay mit her." + +"But, dear Jakey, how long did they keep your father locked up there +with the chains on him?" + +"Oh! big long time; and von time my granfader come dare, and my moder +bees sick in ze bed; ce not get vell vare my fader have strike her; and +my granfader tell her dot ze man vot sit vay high in ze seat have said +_ze vord_, dot my fader go vay off, and be lock up mit ze dark and mit +ze chains on him, vile he live and vile he die. Zen my moder say ce +vill go vare he be. My granfader lif her, and ce get up, and I come mit +zem. And ven my moder come dare, ce go to ze man vot have said _ze +vord_, and ce tell him dot he vill let my fader go, he vill, _he vill!_ +And ce say dot ce vill die, if he not let my fader go, and ce cry; and +ce tell ze man vot sit vay high in ze chair, dot he vill let him go? +but ze man say No, he have said _ze vord_. Zen my moder go down vare my +fader be mit ze chains on him, and ven ce come dare, ce scream, and ce +fall on ze ground, like ce be dead. Zen my granfader say dot I go tell +ze man dot he vill let my fader go, and ven my granfader bring me, and +I come dare, I tink I say dot; but I tell him dot he vill not kill my +moder, and I cry, _too loud_ I cry. Zen ze man go _vay high_ on hees +feets mit his hand on my head, and he say some vords to ze men vot bees +dare, and he say some vords to my granfader. Zen he go roun on his +feets and he say some vords to my fader. He tell him, dot he vill be +good? dot he vill not drink ze beer? dot he vill vork? dot he vill make +ze peoples mit ze brush? dot he vill love my moder, and get ze bread +and ze fire and ze meat? and my fader say he vill, he vill! Zen ze man +vot have said _ze vord_ tell my fader dot he may go; and quick von oder +man take ze chains fon hees feets and fon hees hands, and he bees too +glad; and he lif up my moder, and he sake her dot ce speak, and he love +her, and he come avay mit her. And my granfader bring me; I come mit +him in hees arms, and vile my granfader valk, he cry. + +"Ven it bees night, ze big man vot sit vay high in ze chair and vot +have said _ze vord_, come to ze house, and he see my moder dare in ze +bed; and he talk mit her, and he talk mit my fader, and he say some +vords mit Jeem and mit Fred, and he hold me on hees lap. + +"Long time he stay dare, and ven he go vay, he tell my fader, if he +vill make him mit ze brush? and my fader say dot he vill. Zen much +times he come dare, and ven my fader have make him big all aroun, fon +hees feets to hees head, mit ze chair vot he sit in vay high, ven he +say _ze vord_, he give my fader much ze money, much money he give; and +my fader get ze fire mit it, and ze bread and ze meat; and he love my +moder, and he love Jeem, and he love Fred, and me he love. + +"Zen my moder sing, but ce have not ze harp, and ce have not ze piano; +and my fader sing mit her; and much ze peoples he make mit ze brush; +and my moder ce help him, all ze time ce help him, and Jeem and Fred +zey help; zey grind ze tings vot he make ze peoples mit. Von time I +help; ven Fred bees gone, I vash ze brushes, and my moder say dot I +have make zem clean so better as Fred. And all ze time I rock ze baby +in ze leetle bed, and I sing ze song vot my moder make ze baby sleep +mit." + +"Did your father stay always good, Jakey, and did he never drink the +beer any more?" + +"Oh! no," he answered, with an earnestness that chilled my very heart, +and made me feel that he had not yet told me half the sorrow shut up in +his little bosom; and while, with tears in my eyes, I tried to +encourage him to go on, I felt almost guilty, and was about deciding to +probe his little heart no more, when of his own accord he resumed. + +"Von time my fader say dot he vill go to ze man mit ze pic-sure vot he +have make, and he vill get ze money; and my moder say dot ce vill go +mit him; but my fader say No, he vill go mit hees-self, and ven he have +got ze money, he vill come home to ze supper. But long time he not +come. Jeem he go in ze bed, and Fred he go in ze bed, and I go in ze +leetle bed, and my moder ce have ze baby mit her to ze fire. + +"Zen long time my fader come to ze door, and vile he come, he say loud +ze vicked vords, and my moder know dot he have drunk ze beer. Quick ce +go to ze vindow, and ven ce see him, ce cry and ce bees afraid, and ce +not open ze door. Zen my fader tink he have not fine ze door, and he go +vay roun ze house, and tink he have fine ze door dare; and he strike, +and he pound, and all ze time he say loud ze vicked vords. Zen he come +back to ze door, and he strike it mit hees feets much times, and ven ze +door come open and he see my moder dare, he strike her dot ce fall on +ze floor mit ze baby. Ze baby cry, but my moder ce not speak, and ce +not cry. Zen my fader strike her much times mit hees feets, dot ce not +open ze door, and he go vay to get ze big knife, and he say dot he vill +kill her. Long time he not fine it; zen vile he come back he not see, +and he fall on ze floor, and some ze vay he get up and some ze vay he +not get up, and all ze time he say dot he vill kill, he vill, he vill! +But all ze time he not kill, he have not ze knife; and he have drunk +too much ze beer, dot he not get up. Zen long time hees head go down on +ze floor, and he sleep, and he make big noise mit hees nose. + +"Zen I come out ze leetle bed, and I go on ze floor, and ven I come +vare my moder be, I sake her and I sake her, but ce not speak. Zen I +come to ze bed vare Jeem be, and I sake him, and I tell him dot my +fader have kill my moder. Quick Jeem come dare, and he lif her up; and +Fred come out ze bed, and he get ze baby; and Jeem put ze vater on my +moder, and he sake her much times, and ce vake, and ce sit up in ze +chair mit ze baby. And ce tell Jeem dot he get ze blanket fon ze bed +and he put it on my fader, and he lif hees head, and he put under ze +pillow. + +"Jeem and Fred zey go in ze bed, and I go in ze leetle bed, but all ze +time my moder ce sit up dare in ze chair, mit ze baby, to ze fire, and +ce cry and ce cry." + + +IV. + +"In ze morning my moder tell my fader dot ce vill go back to Italy, mit +her moder; and my fader say dot ce may, but ce not go. + +"Ze peoples come, but my fader bees not dare, and he not make zem any +more mit ze brush, but some my moder make. + +"All ze time my fader go vay, and he drink ze beer mit ze bad men; and +ze fire he not get, and he not get ze bread, and too much he strike. + +"Von time my moder tell my fader dot ce vill come in ze America, and ce +vill make ze peoples dare mit ze brush, and ce vill get ze money, and +ce vill live; and my fader say dot ce may. Zen my moder say dot ce vill +take ze boys mit her; and my fader say No, he keep ze boys mit him. My +moder say No, ce take ze boys mit her; and my fader say No, he keep ze +boys mit him. Zen my moder say ce vill take ze baby and her little +blind boy mit her, and ce vill come in ze America; and my fader say dot +ce may. + +"Zen my moder sell ze ring fon her fing-er, and some ze money ce get, +and some ze money my granfader give her. Zen ce make me mit ze brush. I +sit up in ze chair, and ce look at me, and ce make me all roun mit ze +flowers. Ce make my curls go roun her fing-er, and zen ce make zem mit +ze brush in ze pic-sure, and ce make me mit vings; and ce make in my +hand vot ze boys shoot mit,--not ze gun vot make ze big noise and vot +kill, but ze bow mit ze tring, I not know vot you call it." + +"The bow and arrow, Jakey." + +"Yes, dot bees it, ze bow and ze arrow; and von time Jeem have shoot +Fred mit it in hees back, and he cry, and he come and he tell my moder +dot Jeem have kill him. + +"Ven I bees done, ven my moder have make me, von lady ce come dare and +ce tell my moder, Vot ce make? and my moder tell her dot ce make me mit +ze brush, and ce vill sell me, and ce vill get ze money, and ce vill +come in ze America. Zen von oder day ze lady come dare, and ce give my +moder much ze money, and ce take ze pic-sure avay mit her; and ven ce +have go mit it, my moder ce cry and ce cry. + +"Von day my granfader come dare mit ze carriage, and Jeem he go in ze +carriage, and Fred he go in, and my moder ce come in mit ze baby. My +granfader bring me, and he come in, and ze carriage come vay down to +ze--I not know vot you call it, but it bees von big house on ze vater." + +"A ship, Jakey." + +"Yes, ze ship, mit ze trees vay high, and on ze trees, Fred say, long +tings go vay out like ze sheet; and ze vinds blow in zem, and ze ship +ce go and ce go. My moder ce come in ze ship mit ze baby in von arm, +and my granfader bring me, and Jeem and Fred bees dare; and my +granfader say zey vill go, dot ze ship not come avay mit zem. Zen my +moder ce kiss Jeem and ce kiss Fred, von time and von time, and ce cry +and ce cry; and ce tell zem dot zey vill be good, and ven ce get ze +money, ce vill send it, and zey vill come in ze America mit her. Jeem +say dot ven he bees a man, he vill come in ze America; and Fred say dot +he vill come in ze America ven he bees not a man,--ven he get ze money +he come, and he vill get it. + +"My moder ce kiss zem much times, and ce cry too hard dot ce leave zem. +And ce tell my granfader dot he vill not give my fader ze beer? and my +granfader say, No, he not give him, but he vill get it; and my +granfader cry ven he say dot. And my moder tell him dot ven my fader +have not ze money, he vill keep him in ze house mit him? and my +granfader say dot he vill, and he vill keep Jeem and he vill keep Fred +mit him, and he vill make zem go in ze school. Zen my moder tank my +granfader much times, and ce kiss him, and ce kiss Jeem, and ce kiss +Fred; and zey kiss me, and zey kiss ze baby, and zey kiss my moder; and +zey cry and zey go avay, and my moder ce scream and ce cry. Zen my +granfader leave Jeem and Fred, and he come back, and he tell my moder +dot ce not cry; much vords he tell her. Zen he go avay, and ze vinds +blow, and ze ship ce go and ce go. + +"Long time ze ship go, much days and much nights. And von time ze vinds +blow too hard, and ze ship go von vay and von vay, and ze vaters come +vay high, and ze vinds make big noise, and it tunder, like ze sky +break; and von ze trees have come crash down on ze ship, and all ze +peoples cry, Gott im Himmel! Gott im Himmel! and all ze time zey cry, +and zey tink dot zey go vay down in ze deep. My moder ce be kneeled +down, mit ze baby in von arm and mit me in von arm, and ce not cry, but +all ze time ce pray and ce pray; and vile ce pray, ze ship come crash +on ze rock, and much ze peoples go vay down in ze vater, and too much +zey cry, too loud. Zen my moder have tie ze baby mit her shawl, and me +ce hold mit von arm, and mit von arm ce hold on ze ship. Von time ze +vater, ven it come vay high, take me avay, and my moder have loss me, +and too loud ce scream, and von man dare he get me fon ze vater mit my +hair, and long time he hold me mit his arm. + +"Ven it bees morning, and ze vater not come vay high, and ze vinds not +blow, von oder ship come dare vot have not ze sail, but ce have von big +fire, and all ze time ce go, _burrh! burrh!_ and all ze peoples vot +have not go vay down mit ze fishes come in dot ship, and zey get ze +bread dare, and zey get ze meat dare, and much tings zey get dare. + +"Long time zey go in dot ship, and ven zey see ze America, zey come in +von oder leetle ship vot have no tree, vot have no sail, and vot have +no fire, but ze men have ze long sticks, and zey go _so_, and zey go +_so_" (imitating men rowing, with his little hands). + +"How did you know that, Jakey; you could not see them?" + +"No, I not see zem, but my moder ce tell me; and ven ze leetle boat +have come close up in ze America, mit ze baby in von arm and mit me in +von arm, my moder come out ze leetle boat, and ven ce have valk some ze +vay, ce go down on ze ground and ce pray and ce cry. Not ce feel bad +dot ce come in ze America, but ce bees too glad dot ce have not go vay +down in ze deep mit ze fishes, and ze baby and me mit her dare, vare +von big fish be, vot eat ze peoples." + +"Were you not afraid, Jakey?" + +"No, I not cry. My moder ce be dare, and ce hold me tight, and I tink +Gott hear my moder vot ce pray." + + +V. + +"Where did your mother go, Jakey, when she first came into this +country? where did she stop?" + +"I not know ze place vare," he said, "but ce go mit ze peoples in von +big house, up ze steps vay high and ce stay dare. And ven ze bells +ring, and von Sunday have come, ze baby, ce be dead. I not know zen vot +dead mean. I not know ce bees cold; and too quick I take my hand avay, +and I tell my moder dot ce bring ze baby to ze fire. My moder say, No, +ze fire not varm her, ce bees dead, and ze man vill come and put her +avay in ze ground; and my moder ce cry and ce cry. And vile ce cry, ze +man come mit ze box, and he pull ze baby fon my moder, and quick he put +her in ze box; and ven he make ze nail drive, my moder cry like ce die. + +"My moder ce stay dare in ze big house, and von day ce go to fine ze +peoples vot ce vill make mit ze brush, and von oder day ce go to fine +ze peoples, and von oder day ce go. Zen von day ce go to fine ze place +vare ce vill live; and ven ce come back, ce say dot ce have fine it, +and in ze morning ce vill go dare mit me. But in ze night, all ze time +ce talk, and ce not know vare ce be. Some ze time ce tink ce bees in +Germany mit my fader, and ce tink he have drunk ze beer, and he vill +kill her. Some ze time ce tink ce bees in Italy mit her moder, and ce +have not run avay mit my fader. And some ze time ce tink ce bees in ze +ship, and ze vinds blow too hard, and ze tree come crash down. Zen all +ze time ce say Vater, vater, vater! but ce have not ze vater, and ce +bees hot, too hot. Ven ce touch me, I tink ce burn me, and ce go up in +ze bed, and ce pull ze blanket and ze tings, and all ze time ce say +Vater, vater, vater! And I cry dot I not fine ze vater. I scream, I +fine ze door, but it not open. I call ze voman, but ce not come; all ze +day ce not come, all ze night ce not come; and all ze time my moder ce +burn, burn, and all ze time ce say Vater, vater, vater! I call her, but +ce not know vot I say; ce not see me; ce not know vare ce be; and ven I +cry ce not hear me. All ze time ce talk and ce talk. + +"Zen dot morning ze man come dare, and ven he see my moder, he go quick +avay; and von man come mit someting vot he give my moder, and vot ce +drink, and ven ce have drink it, ce sleep. Long time ce sleep, and ven +ce vake, ce know vare ce be, and ce know vot ce say. Zen ce put her +hand on my head, and ce kiss me,--much times ce kiss me; and ce say dot +ce die, and ce go im Himmel mit ze baby. Zen I cry; and ce tell me dot +I not cry, dot Gott vill come von time, and he vill bring me im Himmel +mit her and mit ze baby. He vill, ce know he vill. + +"Zen ce not talk, and I tink ce be sleep; and I sake her and I sake +her, but ce not move. I put my fing-er on her eyes, but zey not open; +and I call her and I call her, but ce not hear; and I kiss her and I +kiss her, but ce not know it. I sake her, but ce not vake; and ven I +feel dot ce bees cold, I know dot ce bees dead, like ze baby, and I +scream and I scream. I call ze voman, I call ze man, but zey not come, +zey not hear. Zen long time ze voman ce come, and ven ce open ze door +ce pull me avay quick fon my moder, and ce pull me up ze stair, von +stair and von stair. Zen ce push me in ze room, and ce lock ze door, +and ce take ze key avay mit her. Zen I push ze door and I scream, all +ze time I scream. I say dot I vill go mit my moder, I vill, I vill!" + + +VI. + +"Long time, vile I cry dare, Meme come, and ce say von vord in ze +keyhole. I not know vot ce say, but I say dot I will go mit my moder, +but ce not hear me. And ce say von oder time in ze keyhole, Little boy, +cause vy you cry? Zen I come dare, and I say in ze keyhole dot I shall +go mit my moder, dot ze voman have lock me up, and ce have take ze key +avay mit her. Zen Meme tell me dot I not cry, ce know vare ze key be, +and ce vill get it. Zen quick ce run avay, and ce come back mit ze key, +and ce put ze key in ze keyhole, and ce go vay high on her feets, and +ce push and ce push, but ze door not open. Zen ce take ze key out, and +Meme say von vord in ze keyhole, and I say von vord in ze keyhole. Zen +ce put ze key in ze keyhole von oder time, and ce go vay high on her +feets, and ce push and ce push, and ze door come open; and ven Meme see +me dare, ce say, Vy! little boy, you not see! No, I say, I not see. Zen +ce say dot ce vill come mit me vare my moder be, and ce take hold my +hand, and ven ce have come down von stair, and von step and von step, +ze voman ce be dare; and ce tell Meme dot ce go back, dot ce vill vip +her. Zen Meme ce come up ze stair, and ce pull von vay and I pull von +vay, and I say dot I go mit my moder, I vill, I vill! and I cry. Zen +Meme ce tell me dot I not cry, and ce say low, dot ven ze voman have go +avay, ce vill come back mit me. Zen I not cry, and I go up ze steps mit +Meme; and ven I not hear ze voman, and Meme not see her, ce come back +mit me; von step and von step ce pull me, all ze steps quick down ce +pull me, and ven ce come on ze floor, quick ce come to ze door vare my +moder be, and ce make it go open; and ven ce see my moder dare, ce cry. +But I not cry; I go to ze bed, vare ce be, and ven I feel her mit my +hands, I tell Meme dot ce be not my moder, ce have not ze curls; and +Meme say dot ze voman have cut zem; dot ce have cut ze curls fon her +moder, ven ce vas dead, and ce have sell zem, and ce get ze money. + +"Zen ze man come mit ze box, and he push Meme, dot ce go avay; and Meme +ce pull me, but I say dot I not come, dot I stay mit my moder. Zen ze +man push me, and he sut ze door, and I scream, I scream! Zen Meme tell +me dot I not cry, dot ze voman vill hear, and ce vill come and ce vill +vip her. Zen I not cry too loud, and I come mit Meme up ze stair; and +ven ce come to ze room, ce go avay, and ce bring me von cake in von +hand, and von opple in von hand; and ce kiss me, and ce tell me dot ce +love me; and ce say dot her moder have die, and ze voman have got ze +gold fon her moder, and ze vatch, and ze locket, mit ze chain, vot have +her fader and her moder in it, and all ze tings. And Meme say dot her +moder come to ze America dot ce fine her fader, but ce have die ven ce +not fine him; and ven ce say dot, ce cry, and vile ce cry, ze voman +come dare; and ce pull Meme, and ce tell her go avay. And ce lock ze +door von oder time, and ce take ze key avay mit her; and ven I bees +alone, I cry, I cry. + +"Zen long time ze voman come back, and ce lif me on her lap; and ven ce +make my curls come roun her fing-er, like my moder, I tink ce bees +good; but zen I hear ze shear cut, and quick I put my hand, and vile ce +cut ze curls, ce cut my fing-er dot it bleed, and von curl and von curl +ce have cut. Zen much I scream, loud I scream. I call my moder, I call +Meme. I say dot I not have my curls cut, my moder say I not. Zen ze +voman ce sake me too hard, and ce push me dot I fall, and ce go avay; +and ce lock ze door, and ce take ze key avay mit her. All ze time I +cry, and I hold my curls mit von hand and mit von hand; and ven I have +cry too much, I sleep on ze floor, and I not know it; and long time, +ven I vake, ze voman have come dare, and vile I sleep, ce have cut all +ze curls. Some I cry, zen some I not cry; I tink vot my moder have say, +dot Gott vill come, and he vill bring me im Himmel mit her and mit ze +baby, and all ze time I tink, Vill he come? Vile I tink, Meme ce come, +and ce take hold my hand, and ce tell me dot ce have see ze voman cut +ze curls, and ce say dot I come avay mit her; and ven I come in ze room +mit Meme, ze voman ce be dare, and ce say some vords. Meme know vot ce +say, I not know; but I stay dare mit Meme, and I sleep in ze leetle bed +mit Meme, and I say ze prayer vot Meme say. + +"All ze time in ze day Meme go up to ze vindow, and votch dot her fader +come; and ven ze bell ring to ze door, ce tink dot he have come, and +quick ce run, but he have not come. + +"Von time von man come dare, and vile he mend ze vindow, he talk mit +Meme, and ven ce tell him vot her name be, he say dot he know her +fader, dot he have see him, and dot he vill tell him vare ce be. Zen +Meme ce hop and ce jump and ce laugh, and ce be too glad. All ze days +ce go up to ze vindow, and ce look and ce look; and ze voman put on +Meme von oder frock. Ce give Meme ze locket, and ce give her much +tings, ven ce tink dot Meme's fader come. But much days he not come; +and von time ze voman vill take avay ze locket fon Meme, and ven Meme +say dot ce not give it, dot ce have got ze gold fon her moder, and ze +vatch, and all ze tings, ce strike Meme. + +"Zen ven it bees dark, ze voman come avay mit Meme and mit me in von +oder big house, vare much ze girls and much ze boys be vot have no +fader and vot have no moder; and ven ze voman have talk mit ze lady +dare, ce go avay, but ce leave Meme dare, and ce leave me dare. Long +time Meme stay dare, and I stay dare. Meme go in ze school, and I go in +ze school, mit ze boys and mit ze girls. And Meme read mit zem ze +English, and ven ce learn ze vords, ce tell me ze vords, and ven I know +ze vords, I talk mit zem, and Meme talk mit zem. + +"Ze lady dare be good, but all ze time, ven Meme go in ze bed, ce cry +dot her fader not come, and dot ce not fine him. + +"Von time ven it bees cold, too cold, and ze vinds blow, Meme say dot +ce go, dot ce fine her fader, dot ce know vare he be; and ven ze lady +not know it, ce get her bonnet and ce get her shawl, and ce kiss me +much times; and ce say dot ven ce come back, ce vill bring her fader +mit her, and ce vill take me avay; and zen ven nobody see, ce go out. +Long time ce go, and ven it bees night, ce have not come back. + +"Ze lady come and ce tell me, Vare is Meme? and I tell ze lady ce go +dot ce fine her fader. Zen ze lady tell ze man dot he go and he fine +Meme; and ven long time ze man not come back, ze lady ce go; but zey +not fine her. + +"In ze morning von man come dare, and he bring Meme mit him in hees +arms; and von her hand be freezed, and von her feet be freezed, and +Meme cry; and ce tell ze lady dot vile ce fine her fader, ce have loss +ze vay, and ce bees cold, and ce go up ze step to von door, but zey not +let her come in; and ce go up ze step to von oder door, but zey not let +her come in. All ze time ce do dot: ce go up and ce go up, but zey not +let her come in, and some ze time zey sut ze door, ven zey not know vot +ce say. Zen ce bees too cold, and vile ce vait by von door, ce sleep on +ze stone; and ze man vot vatch in ze street, he fine her dare all vite +mit ze snow. He bring her avay to hees place, and he varm her, and ce +cry and ce cry; and in ze morning von man bring her home to ze lady; +and long time Meme bees in ze bed, and ce bees sick, and ce +cough,--much ce cough. + +"Much times ze doctor come dare, and he give Meme ze medicine, but ce +not get vell; and von time, ven I go to ze bed vare ce be, ce tell me +dot ce die. Zen I cry, and Meme cry; and ce tell me dot ven her fader +come, I vill tell him dot ze voman have got ze gold fon her moder, and +ce have got ze locket, and ze vatch, and all ze tings. Zen Meme kiss +me, and ce tell me dot I vill tell her fader dot ce love me, and dot he +vill take me avay mit him; and vile Meme say dot, ce cry and ce cough. +Zen quick ce not cough, and too quick ze lady come dare; and ven ce +call Meme, Meme ce not hear,--ce have go im Himmel, ce have die, ce be +dead. Ze lady cry; and all ze girls and ze boys come in, and ven zey +see Meme dare, zey cry. Zen ze lady ce make nice tings, and ce put zem +on Meme, all vite like ze snow; and von man bring dare ze box vot zey +put Meme in, and it bees smooth like ze glass, and it open vare her +face be; and all ze girls and ze boys see Meme, ven ce bees in ze box +all vite. And von oder lady dare vot love Meme and vot teach her ze +English, put ze flowers in ze box mit Meme; and ce kiss her, and I kiss +her, and ze lady kiss her; and ze man make ze box tight, and he go avay +off mit Meme, and he put her in ze ground. + +"Long time I stay dare, and Meme's fader not come; but von day von good +man come dare, and he lif me vay high in hees arms, and ven I feel him +mit my hands, he have von big hat, mit no hair on hees head, and mit no +but-tens on hees coat. Some English he speak, and some English he not +speak. All ze time he say zee and zou, zee and zou; and ven he say dot +he love me, and dot he vill take me avay mit him, I tink he bees +Gott,--dot he have come, and he vill take me im Himmel mit my moder, +and mit ze baby, and mit Meme, and I hold him tight aroun mit my arms; +and zen ze lady say dot I go, and ce tell me Good-by, too quick I take +my hand avay,--I tink dot ce keep me. + +"Zen ze good man come mit me in hees carriage, and he make hees coat +come roun me; and ven he come to hees house, he go up ze steps mit me +in hees arms; and ven he have ring ze bell, ze lady come to ze door, +and ze good man tell her dot he have got me. Zen he stand my feets down +on ze floor, and he come mit ze tring, and he make it go roun me, and +he make it how long I bees; and he make hees fing-er go on my feets, +and he make ze tring go roun my head. + +"Zen ze lady take me down ze stair, and ze voman dare put me in ze +vater, and ce vash me and ce vash and ce vash; zen ce vipe and ce vipe; +zen ce comb and ce comb, and ce make my curls come roun her fing-er. +Zen ze good man have come back, and he bring mit him von leetle coat, +and ze sirt and ze trouser vot I have, and ze stockings and ze shoes +and ze hat; and ze lady ce put zem on me, and ce put von leetle +hankchief in my pocket; and ce bring someting vot smell like ze rose, +and ce spill it on my head, and ce spill it on my hands and on my +hankchief, and ce vet my face mit it. Zen ze lady ce kiss me much +times, much times ce kiss; and ze good man kiss me, and he lif me in +hees arms, and he come avay mit me up ze stair to ze parlor, and ze +lady bring me ze cake. + +"Georgy come fon ze school, and Mary come fon ze school, and Franky, +and ven zey talk, zey say zee and zou. + +"I love ze good man, and I love ze lady; but I know dot ze good man +bees not Gott, dot he not take me im Himmel mit my moder, and mit ze +baby, and mit Meme. But he love me dare; and Georgy love me, he give me +ze pennies in my pocket; and Mary love me, ce kiss me much times; and +Franky say dot he vill give me hees horse vot go vay up and vay down, +but he not valk, he have not ze life. He bees von vood horse, mit ze +bridle and mit ze saddle on him, and Franky's fader have buy him to ze +store; and much times Franky ride on him, and I ride on him." + + +VII. + +Usually, when Little Jakey stopped his sweet talk, it was like the +running down of a music-box, but not always as easy to set him going +again. Besides, at the close of the last chapter he seemed to think his +story ended, and put up his face for a kiss, as much as to say, Now +please love me a little, and not tease me any more. So I yielded to his +mood, and petted him awhile; wound his curls around my finger, and +talked with him about everything likely to amuse him, until coming to a +little pause in the conversation, I said,-- + +"How long did you stay with those _thee_ and _thou_ friends, Jakey? How +long did the good man keep you with him in his house?" + +"O, big long time I stay dare," he said, "and von time I come mit Mary +in ze school vare ce go, and all ze Sundays ze lady and ze good man say +dot I come mit zem all to ze Meeting. I love Mary; ce give me ze +flowers, and I sleept mit her in ze bed; and all ze time I go mit her +in ze garden, and ce tell me ze vords and ze flowers vot I not know. + +"Much times ven ze peoples come dare vot say zee and zou, ze good man +lif me in hees arms, and he tell me dot I talk mit zem, and much zey +kiss me. Von time von man give me in my pocket ze big moneys, and zen +Mary ce come mit me to ze store, and ce sell zem, and ce buy me ze coat +mit ze but-tens, vot I vear in ze Meeting. And ven I go to ze Meeting, +Mary ce tie ze ribbon roun my hat, and ce bruss me, and ce vash me, and +ce make my curls come roun her fing-er, like my moder; and ce valk mit +me to ze Meeting, and all ze time I sit mit her dare. + +"Von day, ven ze good man say dot he bring me here in ze Institution, +vare I read ze letters mit my fing-er, Mary say dot ce vill come mit +me, and Georgy say dot he come; and Franky say dot he come; and +Franky's fader say dot he may, and zey all come in ze carriage, and ze +lady come. Ven zey go avay I not go mit zem, I stay here. Von time Mary +have come here, and ce kiss me much times, and ce bring me ze flowers, +and ce bring me ze cakes; and ven ce go avay ce cry, and ce say dot ce +vill come von oder time, and ce vill bring Franky mit her. But ce have +not come; von day ce vill come. + +"Vill Gott know vare I bees, and vill he fine me here, ven he come? My +moder say dot he vill come, and I know he vill." + + +VIII. + +Two days after these sweet words, to my surprise, I found Little Jakey +pillowed in an arm-chair. + +"Bless me!" I exclaimed, "what has happened to this dear treasure? Are +you sick, Little Jakey?" + +"No," he replied, hardly able to speak, "I not sick, but I have got ze +pain in my life," placing his little hand on his chest, "dot bees all. +Vile I hear ze birds sing in ze park, I not know it, and I sleep on ze +ground; and vile I sleep I tink my moder and ze baby, and Meme mit her, +come vare I be. I tink zey all come fon Himmel, and I see zem, and I +talk mit zem, and zey talk mit me, and zey say dot I vill go mit zem; +but ven I vake I bees sleep on ze ground, and ze big rains have come +down, and zey have vet me too vet, and I bees too cold; and ven I tink +I come to ze house, I not fine ze vay; and I have got ze pain in my +head, and ze pain in my neck. Long time I not fine ze vay; zen long +time Bridget ce come, and ce bring me to ze house, and ce put me in ze +bed; and in ze night I have got ze pain in my life." + +I knelt down before the dear, stricken lamb, and blaming my neglect of +him, I kissed him many times, and tried to smooth the pain from his +little brow; but what I felt, words can never speak. + +The next morning Little Jakey was regularly installed in the sick-room. + +Days passed, but the doctors would not say that they thought him any +better. Some days, however, he was able to be pillowed up in an +arm-chair, and amuse himself a little with the toys the children were +constantly bringing him; for by this time the desire to do something +for Little Jakey had come to pervade the whole house. + +Once, sitting by his little bed, I discovered that he was trying very +hard to keep awake, and I said to him softly,-- + +"Dear Jakey, why do you not shut those sweet eyes of yours, and go to +sleep? Surely you must be sleepy." + +"Yes, but I tink I not sleep. Vile I sleep, ze pain make me groan, and +Mattie ce hear me, and ce not sleep." + +Mattie was then very sick also, and lying on a little bed not far from +his. + +One day Mr. Artman, a German, called on Jakey, who asked for his little +box of moneys, which had been presented to him mostly by visitors, and +placing it in Mr. Artman's hand, he said to him, in his own sweet +way,-- + +"You vill keep ze leetle box mit you. Von time Jeem and Fred vill come +in ze America, and ven zey come, you vill give ze big money to Jeem, +and ze leetle moneys to Fred; and you vill tell zem dot I have go im +Himmel mit my moder, and mit ze baby, and mit Meme." + + +IX. + +One warm day when I visited Little Jakey his bed had been drawn around +facing the window, and I found him sitting bolstered up there, with his +long black curls lying out on the pillows. + +"My dear," said I, "I have brought you a bouquet, and let us pull it +into pieces and see what we can make of it." + +Soon Little Jakey's bed was strewn over with the flowers. I do not +remember ever having seen him so cheerful as he was that evening. +Making a little hoop from a piece of wire, I twined him a wreath, while +he amused himself handing me the flowers for it, and feeling over their +soft leaves, and asking their names. Whether large or small, he never +asked the name of the same kind of flower but once. When we placed it +on his little head,-- + +"Vy!" he exclaimed, "von time my moder have vear ze flowers like dis. +Ce go vare von lady sing vot have come fon Italy; my fader go mit her +dare. And von time ze lady come to my moder's house, and ce sing to ze +harp, and ce sing to ze piano, and my moder and my fader sing mit her; +and ce stay dare to ze supper, and much peoples come to ze supper." + +I remained with Little Jakey that night, and when all were still, and +the night taper was glimmering faintly through the room, I felt his +little hand pull mine, as if he would draw me closer to him. + +"What, dear?" I said, stooping over him. + +"I tink I die," he whispered; "I tink I go im Himmel mit my moder, and +mit ze baby, and mit Meme." + +"Why, Jakey," I asked, coaxingly, "what makes you think so?" + +"Vy, ven ze baby die, ce be sick; and ven my moder die, ce be sick; and +ven Meme die, ce be sick; and I be sick, and I tink I die." + +"So you are, very sick indeed, dear Jakey," I said; "but you will not +be sorry to die, will you, dear?" + +"No, I not sorry; but all ze time I tink, How vill it be? Ven Gott take +me im Himmel, vill he come mit me in ze leetle boat? zen vill he come +mit me in ze big boat, mit ze big fire? and zen vill he come in ze big +ship, mit ze tree vay high, and mit ze sail? and ven ze vinds blow too +hard, and ze ship come crash on ze rock, and all ze peoples cry, vill +Gott hold me tight in hees arms, like my moder?" + +"Yes, you dear, dear child," I said, "God will surely keep you close in +his arms always, and when you come where he is, dear Jakey, your sweet +eyes will have the light in them. You will see the stars then, and the +angels, and all the good people who have gone to heaven from this +world, and God, and his dear Son, Jesus. You know about him, do you +not? He loves little children." + +"Yes, I know him," he said; "my moder have tell me dot von time he have +come fon Himmel in ze vorld, and ze wicked men have kill him; zey have +nail him to ze tree; and my moder say dot Jazu be ze Lord, and dot he +love ze little children, and von time he have lif zem in hees arms; and +he say dot he love zem all, and dot he vill bring zem im Himmel mit +him, ven zey bees good. Meme ce know him too, and much times ce talk +mit him in ze prayer vot ce say; and ce say dot he hear her, ce know he +do. Ze good man know him, and much he talk mit him in ze Meeting; but +to ze table he not talk, he tink mit him, mit hees hands so (crossing +his own little ones, as if in the act of devotion). Georgy do dot vay, +and Franky, and zey all; and Mary tell me, and I do dot vay." + +After a little, he asked again with great earnestness,-- + +"How vill it be? If Gott not know ven I die, and if he bees not here, +vill zey keep me von day and von day, vile he come?" + +"O yes, dear Jakey," I said; "but God will be here. He is here now. Let +me explain it to you. God is a great Spirit, and he is everywhere. You +have a little spirit in you, too, Jakey, that makes you talk and think +and feel; now, while your spirit is shut up in your little body here, +it cannot see God, but when this little body dies, your spirit will +come out, and then it will see God, and see everything, and have wings +and rise up, like the angels, and fly away to heaven, or Himmel, as you +call it." + +I was wondering what Little Jakey was thinking of this, when, after a +moment, he exclaimed,-- + +"Vy! ven my moder have make me in ze pic-sure, ce make me mit vings, +but ce not say dot I have ze vings, ven I come im Himmel. Heaven bees +in America, but Himmel bees in Germany. My moder go dare, and ce say +dot Gott vill come, and he vill bring me mit him dare, vare ce be. I +vish I come dare now!" + +"Darling, you must shut your sweet eyes now and go to sleep." + +"No," he said, "ven I sut my eyes, zey not sut, and ven I tink I sleep, +I not sleep. I bees cold; too cold I bees. I tink I die; I tink I go im +Himmel now mit my moder, and mit ze baby, and mit Meme. Vill Gott come, +and vill he fine me here? How vill it be? How--vill--it--be?" + +We sprang to him, and, leaning over his little form, felt that his +pulse was really still, and his sweet breath hushed forever. + + + + +THE LOST CHILD. + +BY HENRY KINGSLEY. + + +Remember? Yes, I remember well that time when the disagreement arose +between Sam Buckley and Cecil, and how it was mended. You are wrong +about one thing, General; no words ever passed between those two young +men; death was between them before they had time to speak. + +I will tell you the real story, old as I am, as well as either of them +could tell it for themselves; and as I tell it I hear the familiar roar +of the old snowy river in my ears, and if I shut my eyes I can see the +great mountain, Lanyngerin, bending down his head like a thoroughbred +horse with a curb in his mouth; I can see the long gray plains, broken +with the outlines of the solitary volcanoes Widderin and Monmot. Ah, +General Halbert! I will go back there next year, for I am tired of +England, and I will leave my bones there; I am getting old, and I want +peace, as I had it in Australia. As for the story you speak of, it is +simply this:-- + +Four or five miles up the river from Garoopna stood a solitary hut, +sheltered by a lofty, bare knoll, round which the great river chafed +among the bowlders. Across the stream was the forest sloping down in +pleasant glades from the mountain; and behind the hut rose the plain +four or five hundred feet overhead, seeming to be held aloft by the +blue-stone columns which rose from the river-side. + +In this cottage resided a shepherd, his wife, and one little boy, their +son, about eight years old,--a strange, wild, little bush child, able +to speak articulately, but utterly without knowledge or experience of +human creatures, save of his father and mother; unable to read a line; +without religion of any sort or kind; as entire a little savage, in +fact, as you could find in the worst den in your city, morally +speaking, and yet beautiful to look on; as active as a roe, and, with +regard to natural objects, as fearless as a lion. + +As yet unfit to begin labor, all the long summer he would wander about +the river-bank, up and down the beautiful rock-walled paradise where he +was confined, sometimes looking eagerly across the water at the waving +forest boughs, and fancying he could see other children far up the +vistas beckoning to him to cross and play in that merry land of +shifting lights and shadows. + +It grew quite into a passion with the little man to get across and play +there; and one day when his mother was shifting the hurdles, and he was +handing her the strips of green hide which bound them together, he said +to her, "Mother, what country is that across the river?" + +"The forest, child." + +"There's plenty of quantongs over there, eh, mother, and raspberries? +Why mayn't I get across and play there?" + +"The river is too deep, child, and the Bunyip lives in the water under +the stones." + +"Who are the children that play across there?" + +"Black children, likely." + +"No white children?" + +"Pixies; don't go near 'em, child; they'll lure you on, Lord knows +where. Don't get trying to cross the river, now, or you'll be drowned." + +But next day the passion was stronger on him than ever. Quite early on +the glorious, cloudless, midsummer day he was down by the river-side, +sitting on a rock, with his shoes and stockings off, paddling his feet +in the clear tepid water, and watching the million fish in the +shallows--black fish and grayling--leaping and flashing in the sun. + +There is no pleasure that I have ever experienced like a child's +midsummer holiday,--the time, I mean, when two or three of us used to +go away up the brook, and take our dinners with us, and come home at +night tired, dirty, happy, scratched beyond recognition, with a great +nosegay, three little trout, and one shoe, the other having been used +for a boat till it had gone down with all hands out of soundings. How +poor our Derby days, our Greenwich dinners, our evening parties, where +there are plenty of nice girls, are, after that! Depend on it, a man +never experiences such pleasure or grief after fourteen as he does +before,--unless in some cases in his first love-making, when the +sensation is new to him. + +But meanwhile there sat our child, bare-legged, watching the forbidden +ground beyond the river. A fresh breeze was moving the trees and making +the whole a dazzling mass of shifting light and shadow. He sat so still +that a glorious violet and red kingfisher perched quite close, and, +dashing into the water, came forth with a fish, and fled like a ray of +light along the winding of the river. A colony of little shell parrots, +too, crowded on a bough, and twittered and ran to and fro quite busily, +as though they said to him, "We don't mind you, my dear; you are quite +one of us." + +Never was the river so low. He stepped in; it scarcely reached his +ankle. Now surely he might get across. He stripped himself, and, +carrying his clothes, waded through, the water never reaching his +middle, all across the long, yellow, gravelly shallow. And there he +stood, naked and free, on the forbidden ground. + +He quickly dressed himself, and began examining his new kingdom, rich +beyond his utmost hopes. Such quantongs, such raspberries, surpassing +imagination; and when tired of them, such fern boughs, six or eight +feet long! He would penetrate this region, and see how far it extended. + +What tales he would have for his father to-night! He would bring him +here, and show him all the wonders, and perhaps he would build a new +hut over here, and come and live in it? Perhaps the pretty young lady, +with the feathers in her hat, lived somewhere here, too? + +There! There is one of those children he has seen before across the +river. Ah! ah! it is not a child at all, but a pretty gray beast with +big ears. A kangaroo, my lad; he won't play with you, but skips away +slowly, and leaves you alone. + +There is something like the gleam of water on that rock. A snake! Now a +sounding rush through the wood, and a passing shadow. An eagle! He +brushes so close to the child, that he strikes at the bird with a +stick, and then watches him as he shoots up like a rocket and, +measuring the fields of air in ever-widening circles, hangs like a +motionless speck upon the sky; though, measure his wings across, and +you will find he is nearer fifteen feet than fourteen. + +Here is a prize, though! A wee little native bear, barely a foot +long,--a little gray beast, comical beyond expression, with broad +flapped ears,--sits on a tree within reach. He makes no resistance, but +cuddles into the child's bosom, and eats a leaf as they go along; while +his mother sits aloft and grunts indignant at the abstraction of her +offspring, but on the whole takes it pretty comfortably, and goes on +with her dinner of peppermint leaves. + +What a short day it has been! Here is the sun getting low, and the +magpies and jackasses beginning to tune up before roosting. + +He would turn and go back to the river. Alas! which way? + +He was lost in the bush. He turned back and went, as he thought, the +way he had come, but soon arrived at a tall, precipitous cliff, which +by some infernal magic seemed to have got between him and the river. +Then he broke down, and that strange madness came on him, which comes +even on strong men, when lost in the forest--a despair, a confusion of +intellect, which has cost many a man his life. Think what it must be +with a child! + +He was fully persuaded that the cliff was between him and home, and +that he must climb it. Alas! every step he took aloft carried him +further from the river, and the hope of safety; and when he came to the +top, just at dark, he saw nothing but cliff after cliff, range after +range, all around him. He had been wandering through steep gullies all +day unconsciously, and had penetrated far into the mountains. Night was +coming down, still and crystal clear, and the poor little lad was far +away from help or hope, going his last long journey alone. + +Partly perhaps walking, and partly sitting down and weeping, he got +through the night; and when the solemn morning came up, again he was +still tottering along the leading range, bewildered, crying from time +to time, "Mother, mother!" still nursing his little bear, his only +companion, to his bosom, and holding still in his hand a few poor +flowers he had gathered up the day before. Up and on all day, and at +evening, passing out of the great zone of timber, he came on the bald, +thunder-smitten summit ridge, where one ruined tree held up its +skeleton arms against the sunset, and the wind came keen and frosty. +So, with failing, feeble legs, upward still, toward the region of the +granite and the snow; toward the eyry of the kite and the eagle. + + * * * * * + +Brisk as they all were at Garoopna, none were so brisk as Cecil and +Sam. Charles Hawker wanted to come with them, but Sam asked him to go +with Jim, and, long before the others were ready, our two had strapped +their blankets to their saddles, and followed by Sam's dog Rover, now +getting a little gray about the nose, cantered off up the river. + +Neither spoke at first. They knew what a solemn task they had before +them; and, while acting as though everything depended on speed, guessed +well that their search was only for a little corpse, which, if they had +luck, they would find stiff and cold under some tree or crag. + +Cecil began: "Sam, depend on it, that child has crossed the river to +this side. If he had been on the plains, he would have been seen from a +distance in a few hours." + +"I quite agree," said Sam. "Let us go down on this side till we are +opposite the hut, and search for marks by the river-side." + +So they agreed, and in half an hour were opposite the hut, and, riding +across to it to ask a few questions, found the poor mother sitting on +the doorstep, with her apron over her head, rocking herself to and fro. + +"We have come to help you, mistress," said Sam. "How do you think he is +gone?" + +She said, with frequent bursts of grief, that "some days before he had +mentioned having seen white children across the water, who beckoned him +to cross and play; that she, knowing well that they were fairies, or +perhaps worse, had warned him solemnly not to mind them; but that she +had very little doubt that they had helped him over and carried him +away to the forest; and that her husband would not believe in his +having crossed the river." + +"Why, it is not knee-deep across the shallow," said Cecil. + +"Let us cross again," said Sam; "he _may_ be drowned, but I don't think +it." + +In a quarter of an hour from starting, they found, slightly up the +stream, one of the child's socks, which in his hurry to dress he had +forgotten. Here brave Rover took up the trail like a bloodhound, and +before evening stopped at the foot of a lofty cliff. + +"Can he have gone up here?" said Sam, as they were brought up by the +rock. + +"Most likely," said Cecil. "Lost children always climb from height to +height. I have heard it often remarked by old bush hands. Why they do +so, God, who leads them, only knows; but the fact is beyond denial. Ask +Rover what he thinks." + +The brave old dog was half-way up, looking back for them. It took them +nearly till dark to get their horses up; and, as there was no moon, and +the way was getting perilous, they determined to camp, and start again +in the morning. + +They spread their blankets, and lay down side by side. Sam had thought, +from Cecil's proposing to come with him in preference to the others, +that he would speak of a subject nearly concerning them both; but Cecil +went off to sleep and made no sign; and Sam, ere he dozed, said to +himself, "If he doesn't speak this journey, I will. It is unbearable +that we should not come to some understanding. Poor Cecil!" + +At early dawn they caught up their horses, which had been hobbled with +the stirrup leathers, and started afresh. Both were more silent than +ever, and the dog, with his nose to the ground, led them slowly along +the rocky rib of the mountain, ever going higher and higher. + +"It is inconceivable," said Sam, "that the poor child can have come up +here. There is Tuckerimbid close to our right, five thousand feet above +the river. Don't you think we must be mistaken?" + +"The dog disagrees with you," said Cecil. "He has something before him, +not very far off. Watch him." + +The trees had become dwarfed and scattered; they were getting out of +the region of trees; the real forest zone was now below them, and they +saw they were emerging toward a bald elevated down, and that a few +hundred yards before them was a dead tree, on the highest branch of +which sat an eagle. + +"The dog has stopped," said Cecil; "the end is near." + +"See," said Sam, "there is a handkerchief under the tree." + +"That is the boy himself," said Cecil. + +They were up to him and off in a moment. There he lay dead and stiff, +one hand still grasping the flowers he had gathered on his last happy +play-day, and the other laid as a pillow between the soft cold cheek +and the rough cold stone. His midsummer holiday was over, his long +journey was ended. He had found out at last what lay beyond the shining +river he had watched so long. + +That is the whole story, General Halbert; and who should know it better +than I, Geoffry Hamlyn? + + + + +GOODY GRACIOUS! AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT. + +BY JOHN NEAL. + + +Once there was a little bit of a thing,--not more than so high,--and +her name was Ruth Page; but they called her Teenty-Tawnty, for she was +the daintiest little creature you ever saw, with the smoothest hair and +the brightest face; and then she was always playing about, and always +happy; and so the people that lived in that part of the country, when +they heard her laughing and singing all by herself at peep of day, like +little birds after a shower, and saw her running about in the edge of +the wood after tulips and butterflies, or tumbling head-over-heels in +the long rich grass by the river-side, with her little pet lamb or her +two white pigeons always under her feet, or listening to the wild bees +in the apple-blossoms, with her sweet mouth "all in a tremble," and her +happy eyes brimful of sunshine,--they used to say that she was no child +at all, or no child of earth, but a fairy-gift, and that she must have +been dropped into her mother's lap, like a handful of flowers, when she +was half asleep; and so they wouldn't call her Ruth Page,--no indeed, +that they wouldn't!--but they called her little Teenty-Tawnty, or the +Little Fairy; and they used to bring her fairy tales to read, till she +couldn't bear to read anything else, and wanted to be a fairy herself. + +Well, and so one day, when she was out in the sweet-smelling woods, all +alone by herself, singing, "Where are you going, my pretty maid, my +pretty maid?" and watching the gold-jackets, and the blue dragon-flies, +and the sweet pond-lilies, and the bright-eyed glossy eels, and the +little crimson-spotted fish, as they "coiled and swam," and darted +hither and thither, like "flashes of golden fire," and then huddled +together, all of a sudden, just underneath the green turf where she +sat, as if they saw something, and were half frightened to death, and +were trying to hide in the shadow; well and so--as she sat there, with +her little naked feet hanging over and almost touching the water, +singing to herself, "My face is my fortune, sir, she said! sir, she +said!" and looking down into a deep sunshiny spot, and holding the soft +smooth hair away from her face with both hands, and trying to count the +dear little fish before they got over their fright, all at once she +began to think of the water-fairies, and how cool and pleasant it must +be to live in these deep sunshiny hollows, with green turf all about +you, the blossoming trees and the blue skies overhead, the bright +gravel underneath your feet, like powdered stars, and thousands of +beautiful fish for playfellows! all spotted with gold and crimson, or +winged with rose-leaves, and striped with faint purple and burnished +silver, like the shells and flowers of the deep sea, where the +moonlight buds and blossoms forever and ever; and then she thought if +she could only just reach over, and dip one of her little fat rosy feet +into the smooth shining water,--just once--only once,---it would be +_so_ pleasant! and she should be _so_ happy! and then, if she could but +manage to scare the fishes a little,--a very little,--that would be +such glorious fun, too,--wouldn't it, you? + +Well and so--she kept stooping and stooping, and stretching and +stretching, and singing to herself all the while, "Sir, she said! sir, +she said! I'm going a milking, sir, she said!" till just as she was +ready to tumble in, head first, something jumped out of the bushes +behind her, almost touching her as it passed, and went plump into the +deepest part of the pool! saying, "_Once! once!_" with a heavy booming +sound, like the tolling of a great bell under water, and afar off. + +"Goody gracious! what's that?" screamed little Ruth Page, and then, the +very next moment, she began to laugh and jump and clap her hands, to +see what a scampering there was among the poor silly fish, and all for +nothing! said she; for out came a great good-natured bull-frog, with an +eye like a bird, and a big bell-mouth, and a back all frosted over with +precious stones, and dripping with sunshine; and there he sat looking +at her awhile, as if he wanted to frighten her away; and then he opened +his great lubberly mouth at her, and bellowed out, "_Once! once!_" and +vanished. + +"Luddy tuddy! who cares for you?" said little Ruth; and so, having got +over her fright, she began to creep to the edge of the bank once more, +and look down into the deep water, to see what had become of the little +fish that were so plentiful there, and so happy but a few minutes +before. But they were all gone, and the water was as still as death; +and while she sat looking into it, and waiting for them to come back, +and wondering why they should be so frightened at nothing but a +bull-frog, which they must have seen a thousand times, the poor little +simpletons! and thinking she should like to catch one of the smallest +and carry it home to her little baby-brother, all at once a soft shadow +fell upon the water, and the scented wind blew her smooth hair all into +her eyes, and as she put up both hands in a hurry to pull it away, she +heard something like a whisper close to her ear, saying, "_Twice! +twice!_" and just then the trailing branch of a tree swept over the +turf, and filled the whole air with a storm of blossoms, and she heard +the same low whisper repeated close at her ear, saying, "_Twice! +twice!_" and then she happened to look down into the water,--and what +do you think she saw there? + +"Goody gracious, mamma! is that you?" said poor little Ruth; and up she +jumped, screaming louder than ever, and looking all about her, and +calling, "Mamma, mamma! I see you, mamma! you needn't hide, mamma!" But +no mamma was to be found. + +"Well, if that isn't the strangest thing!" said little Ruth, at last, +after listening a few minutes, on looking all round everywhere, and up +into the trees, and away off down the river-path, and then toward the +house. "If I didn't think I saw my dear good mamma's face in the water, +as plain as day, and if I didn't hear something whisper in my ear and +say, "_Twice! twice!_"--and then she stopped, and held her breath, and +listened again,--"if I didn't hear it as plain as I ever heard anything +in my life, then my name isn't Ruth Page, that's all, nor Teenty-Tawnty +neither!" And then she stopped, and began to feel very unhappy and +sorrowful; for she remembered how her mother had cautioned her never to +go near the river, nor into the woods alone, and how she had promised +her mother many and many a time never to do so, never, never! And then +the tears came into her eyes, and she began to wish herself away from +the haunted spot, where she could kneel down and say her prayers; and +then she looked up to the sky, and then down into the still water, and +then she thought she would just go and take one more peep,--only +one,--just to see if the dear little fishes had got over their fright, +and then she would run home to her mother, and tell her how forgetful +she had been, and how naughty, and ask her to give her something that +would make her remember her promises. Poor thing! little did she know +how deep the water was, nor how wonderfully she had escaped! once, +once! twice, twice! and still she ventured a third time. + +Well and so--don't you think, she crept along, crept along to the very +edge of the green, slippery turf, on her hands and knees, half +trembling with fear, and half laughing to think of that droll-looking +fat fellow, with the big bell-mouth, and the yellow breeches, and the +grass-green military jacket, turned up with buff and embroidered with +gems, and the bright golden eye that had so frightened her before, and +wondering in her little heart if he would show himself again; and +singing all the while, as she crept nearer and nearer, "Nobody asked +you, sir, she said! sir, she said! nobody asked you, sir, she said!" +till at last she had got near enough to look over, and see the little +fishes there tumbling about by dozens, and playing bo-peep among the +flowers that grew underneath the bank, and were multiplied by thousands +in the clear water, when, all at once, she felt the turf giving way, +and she put out her arms and screamed for her mother. Goody gracious! +how she did scream! and then something answered from the flowing waters +underneath, and from the flowering trees overhead, with a mournful +sweet sound, like wailing afar off, "_Thrice! thrice!_" and the +flashing waters swelled up, saying, "_Thrice! thrice!_" and the +flowering branch of the tree swept over the turf, and the sound was the +same, "_Thrice! thrice!_" and in she went, headlong, into the deepest +part of the pool, screaming with terror, and calling on her mother to +the last: poor mother! + +Well and so--when she came to herself, where do you think she was? Why, +she was lying out in the warm summer air, on a green bank, all tufted +with cowslips and violets and clover-blossoms, with a plenty of +strawberries underneath her feet, and the bluest water you ever saw all +round her, murmuring like the rose-lipped sea-shells; and the air was +full of singing-birds, and there was a little old woman looking at her, +with the funniest cap, and a withered face not bigger than you may see +when you look at the baby through the big end of a spyglass: the cap +was a morning-glory, and it was tied underneath the chin with bleached +cobweb, and the streamers and bows were just like the colors you see in +a soap-bubble. + +"Goody gracious! where am I now?" said little Ruth. + +"Yes, my dear, that's my name," said the little old woman, dropping a +low courtesy, and then spinning round two or three times, and squatting +down suddenly, so as to make what you call a cheese. + +"Why, you don't mean to say that's your real name," whispered little +Ruth. + +"To be sure it is! just as much as-- And pray, my little creature, +what's your name?" + +"Mine! O, my name is Ruth Page, _only_ Ruth Page." And up she jumped, +and spun round among the strawberries and flowers, and tried to make a +courtesy like the little old woman, and then they both burst out +a-laughing together. + +"Well," said Goody Gracious, "you're a nice, good-natured, funny little +thing, I'll say that for you, as ever I happened to meet with; but +haven't you another and a prettier name, hey?" + +"Why, sometimes they call me little Teenty-Tawnty," said Ruth. + +"Fiddle-de-dee, I don't like that name any better than the other: we +must give you a new name," said the little old woman; "but first tell +me,"--and she grew very serious, and her little sharp eyes changed +color,--"first tell me how you happened to be here, in the very heart +of Fairy-land, with nobody to take care of you, and not so much as a +wasp or a bumble-bee to watch over you when you are asleep." + +"Indeed, and indeed, ma'am, I don't know," said little Ruth; "all I do +know is, that I have been very naughty, and that I am drowned, and that +I shall never see my poor dear mamma any more!" And then she up and +told the whole story to the little old woman, crying bitterly all the +while. + +"Don't take on so, my little dear, don't, don't!" said Goody Gracious; +and out she whipped what appeared to Ruth nothing but a rumpled leaf of +the tiger-lily, and wiped her eyes with it. "Be a good child, and, +after a trial of three days in Fairy-land, if you want to go back to +your mother you shall go, and you may carry with you a token to her +that you have told the truth." + +"O, bless your little dear old-fashioned face," cried Ruth; "O, bless +you, bless you! only give me a token that will make me always remember +what I have promised my poor dear mother, and I shall be so happy! and +I won't ask for anything else." + +"What, neither for humming-birds, nor gold-fish, nor butterflies, nor +diamonds, nor pearls, nor anything you have been wishing for so long, +ever since you were able to read about Fairy-land?" + +"No, ma'am; just give me a ring of wheat-straw, or a brooch from the +ruby-beetle, if you like, and I shall be satisfied." + +"Be it so; but, before I change you to a fairy, you must make choice of +what you want to see in Fairy-land for three days running; for, at the +end of that time, I shall change you back again, so that if you are of +the same mind then, you may go back to your mother, and, if not, you +will stay with us for ever and ever." + +"For ever and ever?" said Ruth, and she trembled; "please, ma'am, I +should like to go now, if it's all the same to you?" + +"No! but take this flower," and, as she spoke, she stooped down, and +pulled up a forget-me-not by the roots, and breathed upon it, and it +blossomed all over; "take this root," said she, "and plant it +somewhere, and tend it well, and at any time after three days, if you +get tired of being here, all you have to do will be just to pull it up +out of the earth, and wish yourself at home, and you will find yourself +there in a moment, in your own little bed." + +"Goody gracious! you don't say so!" + +"But I do say so." + +"I declare, I've a good mind to try!" + +"What, pull it up before you have planted it? No, no, my dear. It must +be left out threescore and twelve hours, and be watered with the dews +and the starlight of the South Sea, where you are now, thousands and +thousands of miles from your own dear country; but there is one thing I +would have you know before you plant the flower." + +"If you please, ma'am," said little Ruth. + +"It is given to you, my dear, to help you correct your faults; you mean +to do right, and you try pretty hard, but you are _so_ forgetful, you +say." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Well, now, but just so long as you tend this plant with care, and +water it every day at the same hour,--every day, mind you, and at the +same hour,--you will be growing better." + +Ruth was overjoyed. + +"But," continued the fairy, "if you neglect it for a single day, it +will begin to droop and wither, the leaves will change, and some of the +blossoms will drop off, and your mother will begin to feel unhappy and +low-spirited." + +"O yes; but I never shall, ma'am,--never, _never!_" + +"Don't be too sure; and if you neglect it for two whole days running, +all the flowers will drop off but one, and your mother will take to her +bed, and nobody but you will know what ails her." + +Poor Ruth began to tremble, and the tears came in her eyes. + +"But," continued the fairy,--"_but_ if you should neglect it for three +days running, my poor child,--but for three days running,--the last +flower will drop off, and your mother will die of a broken heart." + +"O mercy, mercy!" cried poor little Ruth. "O, take it! take it! I +wouldn't have it for the world!" And she flung it down upon the loose +earth, and shook her little fingers, just as if something had stung +her. + +"It is too late now. See, my dear, it has already taken root, and now +there is no help for it. Remember! your mother's health, happiness, and +life depend upon that flower. Watch it well! And now, daughter of +earth," and, as she spoke, she stooped, and pulled up a whole handful +of violets, dripping with summer rain,--and repeating the words, +"Daughter of earth, away! Rosebud, appear!" shook the moisture all over +her; and instantly the dear child found herself afloat in the air, with +pinions of purple gauze, bedropped with gold, with millions of little +fairies all about her, swarming like butterflies and blossoms after a +pleasant rain, and welcoming their sister Rosebud to Fairy-land. + +"Well," thought Rosebud,--we must call her Rosebud now,--"well, if this +being a little fairy isn't one of the pleasantest things." And then she +recollected that she had only three days to stay there and see the +sights, and she looked round her to ask if there was anybody near to +help her, and take charge of her, and tell her what to do and where to +go. + +"Daughter," said a sweet voice that she knew, though it appeared to +come out and steal up from the leaves of another +morning-glory,--"Daughter!" + +"Mother," said Rosebud. + +"You may have your choice to-day of these three things,--a +butterfly-hunt, a wedding, or a play." + +"O, a wedding, a wedding," said Rosebud. "O, I have always wanted to +see a wedding." + +"Be it so," said the voice; and instantly a sweet wind arose, and +lifted her up, and swept her, and thousands more like her, over the +blue deep so swiftly that nothing could be seen but a mist of sparkles +here and there, till they all found themselves on the sea-shore, at the +mouth of a deep sparry cave, all hung about with the richest moss, and +lighted with pearls in clusters, and with little patches of glow-worms, +and carpeted with the wings of butterflies. In the midst were a +multitude of little fairies, hovering and floating over a throne of +spider-net ivory, on which lay the bride, with a veil of starlight, +interwoven with the breath of roses, covering her from head to foot, +and falling over the couch like sunshine playing on clear water. + +By and by a faint, strange murmuring was heard afar off, like the +ringing of lily-bells to the touch of the honey-bees, growing louder +and louder, and coming nearer and nearer every moment. Rosebud turned +toward the sea with all the other fairies, and held her breath; and +after a few moments a fleet of little ships, with the most delicate +purple and azure sails, so thin that you could see the sky through +them, came tilting along over the sea as if they were alive,--and so +they were,--and drew up, as if in order of battle, just before the +mouth of the cave; and then a silver trumpet sounded on the shore, and +a swarm of hornets appeared, whizzing and whirring all about the cave; +and then there was another trumpet, and another, about as loud as you +may hear from a caged blue-bottle, and compliments were interchanged, +and a salute fired, which frightened the little lady-fairies into all +sorts of shapes, and made the little fairy-bride jump up and ask if her +time had come, though, to tell you the truth, the noise did not appear +much more terrible to Rosebud than her little brother's pop-gun; and +then a sort of barge, not unlike the blossom of a sweet pea in shape, +was manned from the largest of the fleet, and, when it touched the +bright sparkling sand, out leaped a little prince of a fellow, with a +bunch of white feathers in his hat, plucked from the moth-miller, a +sword like the finest cambric-needle belted about his waist, and the +most unimpeachable small-clothes. + +This turned out to be the bridegroom; and after a few more flourishes, +and not a little pulling and hauling among the bridesmaids, the bride +and the bridegroom stood up together, and looked silly and sheepish, as +if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths; and after listening awhile to +an old droning-beetle, without hearing a word he said, they bowed and +courtesied, and made some sort of a reply, nobody could guess what; and +then forth stepped the master of ceremonies, a priggish-looking +grasshopper, with straw-colored tights, and a fashionable coat, +single-breasted, and so quakerish it set poor little Rosebud +a-laughing, in spite of all she could do, every time she looked at his +legs; and _then!_ out ran the ten thousand trumpeting bumble-bees, and +the katydid grew noisier than ever, and the cricket chirruped for joy, +and the bridegroom touched the bride's cheek, and pointed slyly toward +a little heap of newly gathered roses and violets, piled up afar off, +in a shadowy part of the cave, just underneath a trailing canopy of +changeable moss; the bride blushed, and the fairies tittered, and +little Rosebud turned away, and wished herself at home, and instantly +the bride and the bridegroom vanished! and the ships and the fairies! +and the lights and the music! and Rosebud found herself standing face +to face with the little withered old woman, who was looking mournfully +at the drooping forget-me-not. The tears came into her eyes, and for +the first time since the flower took root,--for the very first +time,--she began to think of her mother, and of her promise to the +fairy; and she stooped down, in an agony of terror and shame and +self-reproach, to see how it fared with her forget-me-not. Alas! it had +already begun to droop and wither; and the leaves were changing color, +and the blossoms were dropping off, and she knew that her mother was +beginning to suffer. + +"O that I had never seen the hateful flower!" cried Rosebud; and then +instantly recollecting herself, she dropped upon her knees, and kissed +it, and wept upon it, and the flower seemed refreshed by her tears; and +when she stood up and looked into the face of the good little fairy, +and saw her lips tremble, and the color change in her sweet mournful +eyes, she felt as if she never should be happy again. + +"Daughter of earth! child of the air!" said the fairy, "two more days +remain to thee. What wouldst thou have?" + +"O nothing! nothing! Let me but go back to my dear, dear mother, and I +shall be so happy!" + +"That cannot be. These trials are to prepare thee for thy return to +her. Be patient, and take thy choice of these three things,--a +tournament, a coronation, or a ball!" + +"Goody gracious! how I _should_ like to see a coronation!" cried +Rosebud; and then she recollected herself, and blushed and courtesied, +and said, "if you please, ma'am." + +"Call me mother, my dear; in Fairy-land I am your mother." + +"Well, mother," said Rosebud, the tears starting into her eyes, and her +heart swelling, as she determined never to call her mamma, no, +never!--"well, mother, if you please, I would rather stay here and +watch the flower: I don't want to see anything more in Fairy-land; I've +had enough of such things to last me as long as I live. But O, if I +should happen to fall asleep!" + +"If you should, my dear, you will wake in season; but take your +choice." + +"Thank you, mother, but I choose to stay here." + +At these words the fairy vanished, and Rosebud was left alone, looking +at the dear little flower, which seemed to grow fresher and fresher, +and more and more beautiful every minute, and wondering whether it +would be so with her dear mamma; and then she fell to thinking about +her home, and how much trouble she had given her mother, and how much +better she would always be after she had got back to her once more; and +then she fell asleep, and slept so soundly that she did not wake till +the sun was up, and it was time to water the flower. + +At first she was terribly frightened; but when she remembered what the +fairy told her, she began to feel comfortable, and, lest something +might happen, she took a little sea-shell that lay there, and running +down to the water, dipped it up full, and was on her way back, thinking +how happy her poor dear mamma would feel if she could only know _what_ +it was and _who_ it was that made her so much better, when she heard +the strangest and sweetest noises all about her in the air, as if the +whole sky was full of the happiest and merriest creatures! and when she +looked up, lo! there was a broad glitter to be seen, as if the whole +population of Fairy-land were passing right over her head, making a +sort of path like that you see at sunrise along the blue deep, when the +waters are motionless and smooth and clear. + +"Well," said she, looking up, "I _do_ wonder where they are going so +fast,"--and then she stopped,--"and I do think they might be civil +enough just to let a body know; I dare say 'tis the coronation, or the +butterfly-hunt, or the tournament, or the-- O, how I should like to be +there!" + +No sooner was the wish uttered, than she found herself seated in a high +gallery, as delicately carved as the ivory fans of the east; with +diamonds and ostrich-feathers all about and below her, and a prodigious +crowd assembled in the open air,--with the lists open,--a trumpet +sounding,--and scores of knights armed cap-ŕ-pie, and mounted on +dragon-flies, waiting for the charge. All eyes were upon her, and +everybody about was whispering her name, and she never felt half so +happy in her life; and she was just beginning to compare the delicate +embroidery of her wings with that of her next neighbor, a sweet little +fairy who sat looking through her fingers at a youthful champion below, +and pouting and pouting as if she wanted everybody to know that he had +jilted her, when she happened to see a little forget-me-not embroidered +on his beaver; and she instantly recollected her promise, and cried +out, "O mamma! mamma!" and wished herself back again, where she might +sit by the flower and watch over it, and never leave it, never! till +her three days of trial were ended. + +In a moment, before she could speak a word, or even make a bow to the +nice little boy-fairy, who had just handed her up her glove on the +point of a lance like a sunbeam, she found herself seated by the +flower. Poor little thing! It was too late! Every blossom had fallen +off but one, and that looked unhealthy, and trembled when she breathed +upon it. She thought of her mamma, and fancied she could see them +carrying her up to bed, and all the doctors there, and nobody able to +tell what ailed her; and she threw herself all along upon the grass, +and wished all the fairies at the bottom of the Red Sea, and herself +with them! And when she looked up, what do you think she saw? and where +do you think she was? why, she was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and +all the wonders of the Red Sea were about her,--chariots and +chariot-wheels and the skeletons of war-horses, and mounted warriors, +with heaps of glittering armor, and jewels of silver and jewels of +gold, and banner and shield and spear, with millions and millions of +little sea-fairies, and Robin Goodfellows, and giants and dwarfs, and +the funniest-looking monsters you ever heard of; and the waters were +all bright with fairy-lamps that were alive, and with ribbons that were +alive, and with changeable flowers that swam about and whispered to +each other in a language of their own; and there were great heaps of +pearl washed up into drifts and ridges, and a pile of the +strangest-looking old-fashioned furniture, of gold and ivory, and +little mermaids with their dolls not longer than your finger, with live +fishes for tails, jumping about and playing hide-and-seek with the +sun-spots and star-fishes, and the striped water-snakes of the Indian +seas,--the most brilliant and beautiful of all the creatures that live +there. + +And while she was looking about her, and wondering at all she saw, she +happened to think once more of the _forget-me-not_, and to wish herself +back again! At that instant she heard a great heavy bell booming and +tolling,--she knew it was tolling--and she knew she was too late--and +she knew that her mother was dead of a broken heart,--and she fell upon +her face, and stretched forth her hands with a shriek, and prayed God +to forgive her! and allow her to see her mother once more,--only once +more! + +"Why, what ails the child?" whispered somebody that seemed to be +stooping over her. + +It was her mother's voice! and poor Ruth was afraid to look up lest it +should all vanish forever. + +"Upon my word, Sarah," said another voice,--it was her father's,--"upon +my word, Sarah, I do not know; but the poor little creature's thoughts +appear to have undergone another change. I have heard nothing to-day of +the forget-me-not which troubled her so the first week, have you?" + +"She has mentioned it but once to-day, and then she shuddered; but +perhaps we had better keep it in the glass till we see whether it will +bear to be transplanted, for she seems to have set her little heart +upon having that flower live; I wish I knew why!" + +"Do you, indeed, mamma?" whispered poor Ruth, still without looking up; +"well, then, I will tell you. That flower was given me by a fairy to +make me remember my promises to you, my poor, dear, dead mamma; and so +long as I water that every day at the same hour, so long I shall be +growing better and better, and my poor dear mamma,--boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" +and the little thing began to cry as if she would break her heart. + +"Why, this is stranger than all," said the father. "I can't help +thinking the poor child would be rational enough now, if she hadn't +read so many fairy-books; but what a mercy it was, my dear Sarah, and +how shall we ever be thankful enough, that you happened to be down +there when she fell into the water." + +"Ah!" Ruth Page began to hold her breath, and listen with the strangest +feeling. + +"Yes, Robert; but I declare to you, I am frightened whenever I think of +the risk I ran by letting her fall in, head first, as I did." + +Poor Ruth began to lift her head, and to feel about, and pinch herself +to see if she was really awake. + +"And then, too, just think of this terrible fever, and the strange, +wild poetry she has been talking, day after day, about Fairy-land." + +"Poetry! Fudge, Robert, fudge!" + +Ruth looked up, full of amazement and joy, and whispered, "Fudge, +father, fudge!" and the very next words that fell from her trembling +lips as she sat looking at her mother, and pointing at a little bunch +of forget-me-nots in full flower, that her mother had kept for her in a +glass by the window, were these, "O mother! dearest mother! what a +terrible dream I have had!" + +"Hush, my love, hush! and go to sleep, and we will talk this matter +over when you are able to bear it." + +"Goody gracious, mamma!" + +"There she goes again!" cried the father; "now we shall have another +fit!" + +"Hush, hush, my love! you must go to sleep now, and not talk any more." + +"Well, kiss me, mamma, and let me have your hand to go to sleep with, +and I'll try." + +Her mother kissed the dear little thing, and took her hand in hers, and +laid her cheek upon the pillow, and in less than five minutes she was +sound asleep, and breathing as she hadn't breathed before since she had +been fished out of the water, nearly three weeks back, on her way to +Fairy-land. + + + + +A FADED LEAF OF HISTORY. + +BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS. + + +One quiet, snowy afternoon this winter, I found in a dark corner of one +of the oldest libraries in the country a curious pamphlet. It fell into +my hands like a bit of old age and darkness itself. The pages were +coffee-colored, and worn thin and ragged at the edges, like rotting +leaves in fall; they had grown clammy to the touch, too, from the grasp +of so many dead years. There was a peculiar smell about the book which +it had carried down from the days when young William Penn went up and +down the clay-paths of his village of Philadelphia, stopping to watch +the settlers fishing in the clear ponds or to speak to the gangs of +yellow-painted Indians coming in with peltry from the adjacent forest. + +The leaves were scribbled over with the name of John,--"John," in a +cramped, childish hand. His father's book, no doubt, and the writing a +bit of boyish mischief. Outside now, in the street, the boys were +pelting each other with snowballs, just as this John had done in the +clay-paths. But for nearly two hundred years his bones had been +crumbled into lime and his flesh gone back into grass and roots. Yet +here he was, a boy still; here was the old pamphlet and the scrawl in +yellowing ink, with the smell about it still. + +_Printed by Rainier Janssen_, 1698. I turned over the leaves, expecting +to find a sermon preached before Andros, "for the conversion of +Sadducees," or some "Report of the Condition of the Principalities of +New Netherland, or New Sweden, for the Use of the Lord's High +Proprietors thereof" (for of such precious dead dust this library is +full); but I found, instead, wrapped in weighty sentences and backed by +the gravest and most ponderous testimony, the story of a baby, "a +Sucking Child six Months old." It was like a live seed in the hand of a +mummy. The story of a baby and a boy and an aged man, in "the devouring +Waves of the Sea; and also among the cruel devouring Jaws of inhuman +Canibals." There were, it is true, other divers persons in the company, +by one of whom the book is written. But the divers persons seemed to me +to be only part of that endless caravan of ghosts that has been +crossing the world since the beginning; they never can be anything but +ghosts to us. If only to find a human interest in them, one would +rather they had been devoured by inhuman cannibals than not. But a baby +and a boy and an aged man! + +All that afternoon, through the dingy windows of the old building, I +could see the snow falling soft and steadily, covering the countless +roofs of the city, and fancying the multitude of comfortable happy +homes which these white roofs hid, and the sweet-tempered, gracious +women there, with their children close about their knees. I thought I +would like to bring this little live baby back to the others, with its +strange, pathetic story, out of the buried years where it has been +hidden with dead people so long, and give it a place and home among us +all again. + +I only premise that I have left the facts of the history unaltered, +even in the names; and that I believe them to be, in every particular, +true. + +On the 22d of August, 1696, this baby, a puny, fretful boy, was carried +down the street of Port Royal, Jamaica, and on board the "barkentine" +Reformation, bound for Pennsylvania; a Province which, as you remember, +Du Chastellux, a hundred years later, described as a most savage +country which he was compelled to cross on his way to the burgh of +Philadelphia, on its border. To this savage country our baby was bound. +He had by way of body-guard his mother, a gentle Quaker lady; his +father, Jonathan Dickenson, a wealthy planter, on his way to increase +his wealth in Penn's new settlement; three negro men, four negro women, +and an Indian named Venus, all slaves of the said Dickenson; the +captain, his boy, seven seamen, and two passengers. Besides this +defence, the baby's ship was escorted by thirteen sail of merchantmen +under convoy of an armed frigate. For these were the days when, to the +righteous man, terror walked abroad, in the light and the darkness. The +green, quiet coasts were but the lurking-places of savages, and the +green, restless seas more treacherous with pirates. Kidd had not yet +buried his treasure, but was prowling up and down the eastern seas, +gathering it from every luckless vessel that fell in his way. The +captain, Kirle, debarred from fighting by cowardice, and the Quaker +Dickenson, forbidden by principle, appear to have set out upon their +perilous journey, resolved to defend themselves by suspicion, pure and +simple. They looked for treachery behind every bush and billow; the +only chance of safety lay, they maintained, in holding every white man +to be an assassin and every red man a cannibal until they were proved +otherwise. + +The boy was hired by Captain Kirle to wait upon him. His name was John +Hilliard, and he was precisely what any of these good-humored, +mischievous fellows outside would have been, hired on a brigantine two +centuries ago; disposed to shirk his work in order to stand gaping at +Black Ben fishing, or to rub up secretly his old cutlass for the behoof +of Kidd, or the French when they should come, while the Indian Venus +stood by looking on, with the baby in her arms. + +The aged man is invariably set down as chief of the company, though the +captain held all the power and the Quaker all the money. But white hair +and a devout life gave an actual social rank in those days, obsolete +now, and Robert Barrow was known as a man of God all along the +coast-settlements from Massachusetts to Ashley River, among whites and +Indians. Years before, in Yorkshire, his inward testimony (he being a +Friend) had bidden him go preach in this wilderness. He asked of God, +it is said, rather to die; but was not disobedient to the heavenly +call, and came and labored faithfully. He was now returning from the +West Indies, where he had carried his message a year ago. + +The wind set fair for the first day or two; the sun was warm. Even the +grim Quaker Dickenson might have thought the white-sailed fleet a +pretty sight scudding over the rolling green plain, if he could have +spared time to his jealous eyes from scanning the horizon for pirates. +Our baby, too, saw little of sun or sea; for, being but a sickly baby, +with hardly vitality enough to live from day to day, it was kept below, +smothered in the finest of linens and the softest of paduasoy. + +One morning when the fog lifted, Dickenson's watch for danger was +rewarded. They had lost their way in the night; the fleet was gone, +the dead blue slopes of water rolled up to the horizon on every side +and were met by the dead blue sky, without the break of a single sail +or the flicker of a flying bird. For fifteen days they beat about +without any apparent aim other than to escape the enemies whom they +hourly expected to leap out from behind the sky-line. On the sixteenth +day friendly signs were made to them from shore. "A fire made a great +Smoak, and People beckoned to us to putt on Shoar," but Kirle and +Dickenson, seized with fresh fright, put about and made off as for +their lives, until nine o'clock that night, when, seeing two +signal-lights, doubtless from some of their own convoy, they cried out, +"The French! the French!" and tacked back again as fast as might be. +The next day, Kirle being disabled by a jibbing boom, Dickenson brought +his own terrors into command, and for two or three days whisked the +unfortunate barkentine up and down the coast, afraid of both sea and +shore, until finally, one night, he run her aground on a sand-bar on +the Florida reefs. Wondering much at this "judgment of God," Dickenson +went to work. Indeed, to do him justice, he seems to have been always +ready enough to use his burly strength and small wit, trusting to them +to carry him through the world wherein his soul was beleaguered by many +inscrutable judgments of God and the universal treachery of his +brother-man. + +The crew abandoned the ship in a heavy storm. A fire was kindled in the +bight of a sand-hill and protected as well as might be with sails and +palmetto branches; and to this, Dickenson, with "Great trembling and +Pain of Hartt," carried his baby in his own arms and laid it in its +mother's breast. Its little body was pitiful to see from leanness, and +a great fever was upon it. Robert Barrow, the crippled captain, and a +sick passenger shared the child's shelter. "Whereupon two Canibals +appeared, naked, but for a breech-cloth of plaited straw, with +Countenances bloody and furious, and foaming at the Mouth"; but on +being given tobacco, retreated inland to alarm the tribe. The ship's +company gathered together and sat down to wait their return, expecting +cruelty, says Dickenson, and dreadful death. Christianity was now to be +brought face to face with heathenness, which fact our author seems to +have recognized under all his terror. "We began by putting our trust in +the Lord, hoping for no Mercy from these bloody-minded Creatures; +having too few guns to use except to enrage them, a Motion arose among +us to deceive them by calling ourselves Spaniards, that Nation having +some influence over them"; to which lie all consented, except Robert +Barrow. It is curious to observe how these early Christians met the +Indians with the same weapons of distrust and fraud which have proved +so effective with us in civilizing them since. + +In two or three hours the savages appeared in great numbers, bloody and +furious, and in their chronic state of foaming at the mouth. "They +rushed in upon us, shouting 'Nickalees? Nickalees?' (Un Ingles.) To +which we replied 'Espania.' But they cried the more fiercely 'No +Espania, Nickalees!' and being greatly enraged thereat, seized upon all +Trunks and Chests and our cloathes upon our Backs, leaving us each only +a pair of old Breeches, except Robert Barrow, my wife, and child, from +whom they took nothing." The king, or Cassekey, as Dickenson calls him, +distinguished by a horse-tail fastened to his belt behind, took +possession of their money and buried it, at which the good Quaker +spares not his prayers for punishment on all pagan robbers, quite blind +to the poetic justice of the burial, as the money had been made on land +stolen from the savages. The said Cassekey also set up his abode in +their tent; kept all his tribe away from the woman and child and aged +man; kindled fires; caused, as a delicate attention, the only hog +remaining on the wreck to be killed and brought to them for a midnight +meal; and, in short, comported himself so hospitably, and with such +kindly consideration toward the broad-brimmed Quaker, that we are +inclined to account him the better-bred fellow of the two, in spite of +his scant costume of horse-tail and belt of straw. As for the robbery +of the ship's cargo, no doubt the Cassekey had progressed far enough in +civilization to know that to the victors belong the spoils. Florida, +for two years, had been stricken down from coast to coast by a deadly +famine, and in all probability these cannibals returned thanks to +whatever God they had for this windfall of food and clothes devoutly as +our forefathers were doing at the other end of the country for the +homes which they had taken by force. There is a good deal of kinship +among us in circumstances, after all, as well as in blood. The chief +undoubtedly recognized a brother in Dickenson, every whit as tricky as +himself, and would fain, savage as he was, have proved him to be +something better; for, after having protected them for several days, he +came into their tent and gravely and with authority set himself to +asking the old question, "Nickalees?" + +"To which, when we denied, he directed his Speech to the Aged Man, who +would not conceal the Truth, but answered in Simplicity, 'Yes.' Then he +cried in Wrath 'Totus Nickalees!' and went out from us. But returned in +great fury with his men, and stripped all Cloathes from us." + +However, the clothes were returned, and the chief persuaded them to +hasten on to his own village. Dickenson, suspecting foul play as usual, +insisted on going to Santa Lucia. There, the Indian told him, they +would meet fierce savages and undoubtedly have their throats cut, which +kindly warning was quite enough to drive the Quaker to Santa Lucia +headlong. He was sure of the worst designs on the part of the cannibal, +from a strange glance which he fixed upon the baby as he drove them +before him to his village, saying with a treacherous laugh, that after +they had gone there for a purpose he had, they might go to Santa Lucia +as they would. + +It was a bleak, chilly afternoon as they toiled mile after mile along +the beach, the Quaker woman far behind the others with her baby in her +arms, carrying it, as she thought, to its death. Overhead, flocks of +dark-winged grakles swooped across the lowering sky, uttering from time +to time their harsh, foreboding cry; shoreward, as far as the eye could +see, the sand stretched in interminable yellow ridges, blackened here +and there by tufts of dead palmetto-trees; while on the other side the +sea had wrapped itself in a threatening silence and darkness. A line of +white foam crept out of it from horizon to horizon, dumb and +treacherous, and licked the mother's feet as she dragged herself +heavily after the others. + +From time to time the Indian stealthily peered over her shoulder, +looking at the child's thin face as it slept upon her breast. As +evening closed in, they came to a broad arm of the sea thrust inland +through the beach, and halted at the edge. Beyond it, in the darkness, +they could distinguish the yet darker shapes of the wigwams, and +savages gathered about two or three enormous fires that threw long red +lines of glare into the sea-fog. "As we stood there for many Hour's +Time," says Jonathan Dickenson, "we were assured these Dreadful Fires +were prepared for us." + +Of all the sad little company that stand out against the far-off +dimness of the past, in that long watch upon the beach, the low-voiced, +sweet-tempered Quaker lady comes nearest and is the most real to us. +The sailors had chosen a life of peril years ago; her husband, with all +his suspicious bigotry, had, when pushed to extremes, an admirable +tough courage with which to face the dangers of sea and night and +death; and the white-headed old man, who stood apart and calm, had +received, as much as Elijah of old, a Divine word to speak in the +wilderness, and the life in it would sustain him through death. But +Mary Dickenson was only a gentle, commonplace woman, whose life had +been spent on a quiet farm, whose highest ambition was to take care of +her snug little house, and all of whose brighter thoughts or romance or +passion began and ended in this staid Quaker and the baby that was a +part of them both. It was only six months ago that this first-born +child had been laid in her arms; and as she lay on the white bed +looking out on the spring dawning day after day, her husband sat beside +her telling her again and again of the house he had made ready for her +in Penn's new settlement. She never tired of hearing of it. Some +picture of this far-off home must have come to the poor girl as she +stood now in the night, the sea-water creeping up to her naked feet, +looking at the fires built, as she believed, for her child. + +Toward midnight a canoe came from the opposite side, into which the +chief put Barrow, Dickenson, the child, and its mother. Their worst +fears being thus confirmed, they crossed in silence, holding each other +by the hand, the poor baby moaning now and then. It had indeed been +born tired into the world, and had gone moaning its weak life out ever +since. + +Landing on the farther beach, the crowd of waiting Indians fled from +them as if frightened, and halted in the darkness beyond the fires. But +the Cassekey dragged them on toward a wigwam, taking Mary and the child +before the others. "Herein," says her husband, "was the Wife of the +Canibal and some old Women sitting in a Cabbin made of Sticks about a +Foot high, and covered with a Matt. He made signs for us to sitt down +on the Ground, which we did. The Cassekey's Wife looking at my Child +and having her own Child in her lapp, putt it away to another Woman, +and rose upp and would not bee denied, but would have my Child. She +took it and suckled it at her Breast, feeling it from Top to Toe, and +viewing it with a sad Countenance." + +The starving baby, being thus warmed and fed, stretched its little arms +and legs out on the savage breast comfortably and fell into a happy +sleep, while its mother sat apart and looked on. + +"An Indian did kindly bring to her a Fish upon a Palmetto Leaf and set +it down before her; but the Pain and Thoughts within her were so great +that she could not eat." + +The rest of the crew having been brought over, the chief set himself to +work and speedily had a wigwam built in which mats were spread, and the +shipwrecked people, instead of being killed and eaten, went to sleep +just as the moon rose, and the Indians began "a Consert of hideous +Noises," whether of welcome or worship they could not tell. + +Dickenson and his band remained in this Indian village for several +days, endeavoring all the time to escape, in spite of the kind +treatment of the chief, who appears to have shared all that he had with +them. The Quaker kept a constant, fearful watch, lest there might be +death in the pot. When the Cassekey found they were resolved to go, he +set out for the wreck, bringing back a boat which was given to them, +with butter, sugar, a rundlet of wine, and chocolate; to Mary and the +child he also gave everything which he thought would be useful to them. +This friend in the wilderness appeared sorry to part with them, but +Dickenson was blind both to friendship and sorrow, and obstinately took +the direction against which the chief warned him, suspecting treachery, +"though we found afterward that his counsell was good." + +Robert Barrow, Mary, and the child, with two sick men, went in a canoe +along the coast, keeping the crew in sight, who, with the boy, +travelled on foot, sometimes singing as they marched. So they began the +long and terrible journey, the later horrors of which I dare not give +in the words here set down. The first weeks were painful and +disheartening, although they still had food. Their chief discomfort +arose from the extreme cold at night and the tortures from the +sand-flies and mosquitoes on their exposed bodies, which they tried to +remedy by covering themselves with sand, but found sleep impossible. + +At last, however, they met the fiercer savages of whom the chief had +warned them, and practised upon them the same device of calling +themselves Spaniards. By this time, one would suppose, even Dickenson's +dull eyes would have seen the fatal idiocy of the lie. "Crying out +'Nickalees, No Espanier,' they rushed upon us, rending the few Cloathes +from us that we had; they took all from my Wife, even tearing her Hair +out, to get at the Lace, wherewith it was knotted." They were then +dragged furiously into canoes and rowed to the village, being stoned +and shot at as they went. The child was stripped, while one savage +filled its mouth with sand. + +But at that the chief's wife came quickly to Mary and protected her +from the sight of all, and took the sand out of the child's mouth, +entreating it very tenderly, whereon the mass of savages fell back, +muttering and angry. + +The same woman brought the poor naked lady to her wigwam, quieted her, +found some raw deerskins, and showed her how to cover herself and the +baby with them. + +The tribe among which they now were had borne the famine for two years; +their emaciated and hunger-bitten faces gave fiercer light to their +gloomy, treacherous eyes. Their sole food was fish and +palmetto-berries, both of which were scant. Nothing could have been +more unwelcome than the advent of this crowd of whites, bringing more +hungry mouths to fill; and, indeed, there is little reason to doubt +that the first intention was to put them all to death. But, after the +second day, Dickenson relates that the chief "looked pleasantly upon my +Wife and Child"; instead of the fish entrails and filthy water in which +the fish had been cooked which had been given to the prisoners, he +brought clams to Mary, and kneeling in the sand showed her how to roast +them. The Indian women, too, carried off the baby, knowing that its +mother had no milk for it, and handed it about from one to the other, +putting away their own children that they might give it their food. At +which the child, that, when it had been wrapped in fine flannel and +embroidery had been always nigh to death, began to grow fat and rosy, +to crow and laugh as it had never done before, and kick its little legs +sturdily about under their bit of raw skin covering. Mother Nature had +taken the child home, that was all, and was breathing new lusty life +into it, out of the bare ground and open sky, the sun and wind, and the +breasts of these her children; but its father saw in the change only +another inexplicable miracle of God. Nor does he seem to have seen that +it was the child and its mother who had been a protection and shield to +the whole crew and saved them through this their most perilous strait. + +I feel as if I must stop here with the story half told. Dickenson's +narrative, when I finished it, left behind it a fresh, sweet +cheerfulness, as if one had been actually touching the living baby with +its fair little body and milky breath; but if I were to try to +reproduce the history of the famished men and women of the crew during +the months that followed, I should but convey to you a dull and dreary +horror. + +You yourselves can imagine what the journey on foot along the bleak +coast in winter, through tribe after tribe of hostile savages, must +have been to delicately nurtured men and women, naked but for a piece +of raw deerskin and utterly without food save for the few nauseous +berries or offal rejected by the Indians. In their ignorance of the +coast they wandered farther and farther out of their way into those +morasses which an old writer calls "the refuge of all unclean birds and +the breeding-fields of all reptiles." Once a tidal wave swept down into +a vast marsh where they had built their fire, and air and ground slowly +darkened with the swarming living creatures, whirring, creeping about +them through the night, and uttering gloomy, dissonant cries. Many of +these strange companions and some savages found their way to the hill +of oyster-shells where the crew fled, and remained there for the two +days and nights in which the flood lasted. + +Our baby accepted all fellow-travellers cheerfully; made them welcome, +indeed. Savage, slave, and beast were his friends alike, his laugh and +outstretched hands were ready for them all. The aged man, too, +Dickenson tells us, remained hopeful and calm, even when the +slow-coming touch of death had begun to chill and stiffen him, and in +the presence of the cannibals assuring his companions cheerfully of his +faith that they would yet reach home in safety. Even in that strange, +forced halt, when Mary Dickenson could do nothing but stand still and +watch the sea closing about them, creeping up and up like a visible +death, the old man's prayers and the baby's laugh must have kept the +thought of her far home very near and warm to her. + +They escaped the sea to fall into worse dangers. Disease was added to +starvation. One by one strong men dropped exhausted by the way, and +were left unburied, while the others crept feebly on; stout Jonathan +Dickenson taking as his charge the old man, now almost a helpless +burden. Mary, who, underneath her gentle, timid ways, seems to have had +a gallant heart in her little body, carried her baby to the last, until +the milk in her breast was quite dried and her eyes grew blind, and she +too fell one day beside a poor negress who, with her unborn child, lay +frozen and dead, saying that she was tired, and that the time had come +for her too to go. Dickenson lifted her and struggled on. + +The child was taken by the negroes and sailors. It makes a mother's +heart ache even now to read how these coarse, famished men, often +fighting like wild animals with each other, staggering under weakness +and bodily pain, carried the heavy baby, never complaining of its +weight, thinking, it may be, of some child of their own whom they would +never see or touch again. + +I can understand better the mystery of that Divine Childhood that was +once in the world, when I hear how these poor slaves, unasked, gave of +their dying strength to this child; how, in tribes through which no +white man had ever travelled alive, it was passed from one savage +mother to the other, tenderly handled, nursed at their breasts; how a +gentler, kindlier spirit seemed to come from the presence of the baby +and its mother to the crew; so that, while at first they had cursed and +fought their way along, they grew at the last helpful and tender with +each other, often going back, when to go back was death, for the +comrade who dropped by the way, and bringing him on until they too lay +down, and were at rest together. + +It was through the baby that deliverance came to them at last. The +story that a white woman and a beautiful child had been wandering all +winter through the deadly swamps was carried from one tribe to another +until it reached the Spanish fort at St. Augustine. One day therefore, +when near their last extremity, they "saw a Perre-augoe approaching by +sea filled with soldiers, bearing a letter signifying the governor of +St. Augustine's great Care for our Preservation, of what Nation soever +we were." The journey, however, had to be made on foot; and it was more +than two weeks before Dickenson, the old man, Mary and the child, and +the last of the crew, reached St. Augustine. + +"We came thereto," he says, "about two hours before Night, and were +directed to the governor's house, where we were led up a pair of +stairs, at the Head whereof stood the governor, who ordered my Wife to +be conducted to his Wife's Apartment." + +There is something in the picture of poor Mary, after her months of +starvation and nakedness, coming into a lady's chamber again, "where +was a Fire and Bath and Cloathes," which has a curious pathos in it to +a woman. + +Robert Barrow and Dickenson were given clothes, and a plentiful supper +set before them. + +St. Augustine was then a collection of a few old houses grouped about +the fort; only a garrison, in fact, half supported by the king of Spain +and half by the Church of Rome. Its three hundred male inhabitants were +either soldiers or priests, dependent for supplies of money, clothing, +or bread upon Havana; and as the famine had lasted for two years, and +it was then three since a vessel had reached them from any place +whatever, their poverty was extreme. They were all, too, the "false +Catholicks and hireling Priests" whom, beyond all others, Dickenson +distrusted and hated. Yet the grim Quaker's hand seems to tremble as he +writes down the record of their exceeding kindness; of how they +welcomed them, looking, as they did, like naked furious beasts, and +cared for them as if they were their brothers. The governor of the fort +clothed the crew warmly, and out of his own great penury fed them +abundantly. He was a reserved and silent man, with a grave courtesy and +an odd gentle care for the woman and child that make him quite real to +us. Dickenson does not even give his name. Yet it is worth much to us +to know that a brother of us all lived on that solitary Florida coast +two centuries ago, whether he was pagan, Protestant, or priest. + +When they had rested for some time, the governor furnished canoes and +an escort to take them to Carolina,--a costly outfit in those +days,--whereupon Dickenson, stating that he was a man of substance, +insisted upon returning some of the charges to which the governor and +people had been put as soon as he reached Carolina. But the Spaniard +smiled and refused the offer, saying whatever he did was done for God's +sake. When the day came that they must go, "he walked down to see us +embark, and taking our Farewel, he embraced some of us, and wished us +well saying that _We should forget him when we got amongst our own +nation_; and I also added that _If we forgot him, God would not forget +him_, and thus we parted." + +The mischievous boy, John Hilliard, was found to have hidden in the +woods until the crew were gone, and remained ever after in the garrison +with the grave Spaniards, with whom he was a favorite. + +The voyage to Carolina occupied the month of December, being made in +open canoes, which kept close to the shore, the crew disembarking and +encamping each night. Dickenson tells with open-eyed wonder how the +Spaniards kept their holiday of Christmas in the open boat and through +a driving northeast storm; praying, and then tinkling a piece of iron +for music and singing, and also begging gifts from the Indians, who +begged from them in their turn; and what one gave to the other that +they gave back again. Our baby at least, let us hope, had Christmas +feeling enough to understand the laughing and hymn-singing in the face +of the storm. + +At the lonely little hamlet of Charleston (a few farms cut out of the +edge of the wilderness) the adventurers were received with eagerness; +even the Spanish escort were exalted into heroes, and entertained and +rewarded by the gentlemen of the town. Here too Dickenson and Kirle +sent back generous gifts to the soldiers of St. Augustine, and a token +of remembrance to their friend, the governor. After two months' halt, +"on the eighteenth of the first month, called March," they embarked for +Pennsylvania, and on a bright cold morning in April came in sight of +their new home of Philadelphia. The river was gay with a dozen sail, +and as many brightly painted Indian pirogues darting here and there; a +ledge of green banks rose from the water's edge dark with gigantic +hemlocks, and pierced with the caves in which many of the settlers yet +lived; while between the bank and the forest were one or two streets of +mud-huts and of curious low stone houses sparkling with mica, among +which broad-brimmed Friends went up and down. + +The stern Quaker had come to his own life and to his own people again; +the very sun had a familiar home look for the first time in his +journey. We can believe that he rejoiced in his own solid, enduring +way; gave thanks that he had escaped the judgments of God, and closed +his righteous gates thereafter on aught that was alien or savage. + +The aged man rejoiced in a different way; for, being carried carefully +to the shore by many friends, they knowing that he was soon to leave +them, he put out his hand, ready to embrace them in much love, and in a +tender frame of spirit, saying gladly that the Lord had answered his +desire, and brought him home to lay his bones among them. From the +windows of the dusky library I can see the spot now, where, after his +long journey, he rested for a happy day or two, looking upon the dear +familiar faces and waving trees and the sunny April sky, and then +gladly and cheerfully bade them farewell and went onward. + +Mary had come at last to the pleasant home that had been waiting so +long for her, and there, no doubt, she nursed her baby, and clothed him +in soft fooleries again; and, let us hope, out of the fulness of her +soul, not only prayed, but, Quaker as she was, sang idle joyous songs, +when her husband was out of hearing. + +But the baby, who knew nothing of the judgments or mercy of God, and +who could neither pray nor sing, only had learned in these desperate +straits to grow strong and happy in the touch of sun and wind, and to +hold out its arms to friend or foe, slave or savage, sure of a welcome, +and so came closer to God than any of them all. + +Jonathan Dickenson became a power in the new principality; there are +vague traditions of his strict rule as mayor, his stately equipages and +vast estates. No doubt, if I chose to search among the old musty +records, I could find the history of his son. But I do not choose; I +will not believe that he ever grew to be a man, or died. + +He will always be to us simply a baby; a live, laughing baby, sent by +his Master to the desolate places of the earth with the old message of +Divine love and universal brotherhood to his children; and I like to +believe, too, that as he lay in the arms of his savage foster-mothers, +taking life from their life, Christ so took him into his own arms and +blessed him. + + + + +A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR. + +BY CHARLES DICKENS. + + +There was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought +of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and his +constant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They +wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and +blueness of the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; +they wondered at the goodness and the power of God who made the lovely +world. + +They used to say to one another, sometimes, Supposing all the children +upon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky +be sorry? They believed they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds +are the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams that +gambol down the hillsides are the children of the water; and the +smallest bright specks playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, +must surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved +to see their playmates, the children of men, no more. + +There was one clear shining star that used to come out in the sky +before the rest, near the church-spire, above the graves. It was larger +and more beautiful, they thought, than all the others, and every night +they watched for it, standing hand in hand at the window. Whoever saw +it first, cried out, "I see the star!" And often they cried out both +together, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew +to be such friends with it, that before lying down in their beds, they +always looked out once again, to bid it good night; and when they were +turning round to sleep, they used to say, "God bless the star!" + +But while she was still very young, O, very, very young, the sister +drooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the +window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and +when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient pale face on +the bed, "I see the star!" and then a smile would come upon the face, +and a little weak voice used to say, "God bless my brother and the +star!" + +And so the time came, all too soon! when the child looked out alone, +and when there was no face on the bed; and when there was a little +grave among the graves, not there before; and when the star made long +rays down towards him, as he saw it through his tears. + +Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining +way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, +he dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw +a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star, +opening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels +waited to receive them. + +All these angels who were waiting turned their beaming eyes upon the +people who were carried up into the star; and some came out from the +long rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and +kissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, +and were so happy in their company, that lying in his bed he wept for +joy. + +But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them one +he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed was glorified +and radiant, but his heart found out his sister among all the host. + +His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to +the leader among those who had brought the people thither,-- + +"Is my brother come?" + +And he said, "No." + +She was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched out his arms, +and cried, "O sister, I am here! Take me!" And then she turned her +beaming eyes upon him and it was night; and the star was shining into +the room, making long rays down towards him as he saw it through his +tears. + +From that hour forth the child looked out upon the star as on the home +he was to go to, when his time should come; and he thought that he did +not belong to the earth alone, but to the star too, because of his +sister's angel gone before. + +There was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so +little that he never yet had spoken word, he stretched his tiny form +out on his bed and died. + +Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of +angels, and the train of people, and the rows of angels with their +beaming eyes all turned upon those people's faces. + +Said his sister's angel to the leader,-- + +"Is my brother come?" + +And he said, "Not that one, but another." + +As the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms, he cried, "O +sister, I am here! Take me!" And she turned and smiled upon him, and +the star was shining. + +He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books when an old +servant came to him and said,-- + +"Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on her darling son!" + +Again at night he saw the star, and all that former company. Said his +sister's angel to the leader,-- + +"Is my brother come?" + +And he said, "Thy mother!" + +A mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star, because the mother +was reunited to her two children. And he stretched out his arms and +cried, "O mother, sister, and brother, I am here! Take me!" And they +answered him, "Not yet." And the star was shining. + +He grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in +his chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed +with tears, when the star opened once again. + +Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come?" + +And he said, "Nay, but his maiden daughter." + +And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, newly lost to him, +a celestial creature among those three, and he said, "My daughter's +head is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, +and at her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the +parting from her, God be praised!" + +And the star was shining. + +Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was +wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. +And one night as he lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he +cried, as he had cried so long ago,-- + +"I see the star!" + +They whispered one another, "He is dying." + +And he said, "I am. My age is falling from me like a garment, and I +move towards the star as a child. And O, my Father, now I thank thee +that it has so often opened, to receive those dear ones who await me!" + +And the star was shining; and it shines upon his grave. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories of Childhood, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF CHILDHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 15933-8.txt or 15933-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/3/15933/ + +Produced by Ron Swanson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/15933-8.zip b/15933-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b6d954 --- /dev/null +++ b/15933-8.zip diff --git a/15933-h.zip b/15933-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..099205b --- /dev/null +++ b/15933-h.zip diff --git a/15933-h/15933-h.htm b/15933-h/15933-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7fe1fc --- /dev/null +++ b/15933-h/15933-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6849 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> + +<html> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> + <title>The Project Gutenberg e-Book of Stories of Childhood, edited by Rossiter Johnson</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} + h1 {text-align:center} + h2 {text-align:center} + h3 {text-align:center} + h4 {text-align:center} --> + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories of Childhood, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + +Title: Stories of Childhood + +Author: Various + +Editor: Rossiter Johnson + +Release Date: May 29, 2005 [EBook #15933] +Last Updated: May 15, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF CHILDHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Ron Swanson + + + + + +</pre> + +<h3>LITTLE CLASSICS</h3> +<center><small>EDITED BY</small></center> +<h4>ROSSITER JOHNSON</h4> +<br> +<hr align="center" width="200"> +<br> +<br> +<h1>STORIES OF CHILDHOOD</h1> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/01.gif" alt="logo"></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr align="center" width="200"> +<br> +<center><small>BOSTON AND NEW YORK</small><br> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br> +<i>The Riverside Press Cambridge</i><br> +1914</center> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><small>COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.<br> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</small></center> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/02.gif" alt="banner1"></center> +<br> +<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> +<center><a href="#story1">A D<small>OG OF</small> F<small>LANDERS</small></a><br> +<i>Louisa de la Ramé</i> (<i>Ouida</i>)</center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story2">T<small>HE</small> K<small>ING OF THE</small> G<small>OLDEN</small> R<small>IVER</small></a><br> +<i>John Ruskin</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story3">T<small>HE</small> L<small>ADY OF</small> S<small>HALOTT</small></a><br> +<i>Elizabeth Stuart Phelps</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story4">M<small>ARJORIE</small> F<small>LEMING</small></a><br> +<i>John Brown, M.D.</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story5">L<small>ITTLE</small> J<small>AKEY</small></a><br> +<i>Mrs. S. H. DeKroyft</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story6">T<small>HE</small> L<small>OST</small> C<small>HILD</small></a><br> +<i>Henry Kingsley</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story7">G<small>OODY</small> G<small>RACIOUS</small>! <small>AND THE</small> F<small>ORGET-ME-NOT</small></a><br> +<i>John Neal</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story8">A F<small>ADED</small> L<small>EAF OF</small> H<small>ISTORY</small></a><br> +<i>Rebecca Harding Davis</i></center> +<br> +<center><a href="#story9">A C<small>HILD'S</small> D<small>REAM OF A</small> S<small>TAR</small></a><br> +<i>Charles Dickens</i></center> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/03.gif" alt="stop1"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story1"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/04.gif" alt="banner2"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>A DOG OF FLANDERS.</h3> +<center>BY OUIDA</center> +<br><p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter n"> + <tr> + <td width="71"> + <img src="images/05.gif" alt="Letter N"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>ello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world.</p> + +<p>They were friends in a friendship closer than brotherhood. Nello was a +little Ardennois,—Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were both of the +same age by length of years, yet one was still young, and the other was +already old. They had dwelt together almost all their days; both were +orphaned and destitute, and owed their lives to the same hand. It had +been the beginning of the tie between them, their first bond of +sympathy; and it had strengthened day by day, and had grown with their +growth, firm and indissoluble, until they loved one another very greatly.</p> + +<p>Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little village,—a Flemish +village a league from Antwerp, set amidst flat breadths of pasture and +corn-lands, with long lines of poplars and of alders bending in the +breeze on the edge of the great canal which ran through it. It had about +a score of houses and homesteads, with shutters of bright green or +sky-blue, and roofs rose-red or black and white, and walls whitewashed +until they shone in the sun like snow. In the centre of the village +stood a windmill, placed on a little moss-grown slope; it was a landmark +to all the level country round. It had once been painted scarlet, sails +and all, but that had been in its infancy, half a century or more +earlier, when it had ground wheat for the soldiers of Napoleon; and it +was now a ruddy brown, tanned by wind and weather. It went queerly by +fits and starts, as though rheumatic and stiff in the joints from age, +but it served the whole neighborhood, which would have thought it almost +as impious to carry grain elsewhere, as to attend any other religious +service than the mass that was performed at the altar of the little old +gray church, with its conical steeple, which stood opposite to it, and +whose single bell rang morning, noon, and night with that strange, +subdued, hollow sadness which every bell that hangs in the Low Countries +seems to gain as an integral part of its melody.</p> + +<p>Within sound of the little melancholy clock almost from their birth +upward, they had dwelt together, Nello and Patrasche, in the little hut +on the edge of the village, with the cathedral spire of Antwerp rising +in the northeast, beyond the great green plain of seeding grass and +spreading corn that stretched away from them like a tideless, changeless +sea. It was the hut of a very old man, of a very poor man,—of old Jehan +Daas, who in his time had been a soldier, and who remembered the wars +that had trampled the country as oxen tread down the furrows, and who +had brought from his service nothing except a wound, which had made him +a cripple.</p> + +<p>When old Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty, his daughter had died +in the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her +two-year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself, but +he took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon became +welcome and precious to him. Little Nello—which was but a pet +diminutive for Nicolas—throve with him, and the old man and the little +child lived in the poor little hut contentedly.</p> + +<p>It was a very humble little mud-hut indeed, but it was clean and white +as a sea-shell, and stood in a small plot of garden-ground that yielded +beans and herbs and pumpkins. They were very poor, terribly poor,—many +a day they had nothing at all to eat. They never by any chance had +enough; to have had enough to eat would have been to have reached +paradise at once. But the old man was very gentle and good to the boy, +and the boy was a beautiful, innocent, truthful, tender-natured +creature; and they were happy on a crust and a few leaves of cabbage, +and asked no more of earth or Heaven; save indeed that Patrasche should +be always with them, since without Patrasche where would they have been?</p> + +<p>For Patrasche was their alpha and omega; their treasury and granary; +their store of gold and wand of wealth; their bread-winner and minister; +their only friend and comforter. Patrasche dead or gone from them, they +must have laid themselves down and died likewise. Patrasche was body, +brains, hands, head, and feet to both of them: Patrasche was their very +life, their very soul. For Jehan Daas was old and a cripple, and Nello +was but a child; and Patrasche was their dog.</p> + +<p>A dog of Flanders,—yellow of hide, large of head and limb, with +wolf-like ears that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the +muscular development wrought in his breed by many generations of hard +service. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly from +sire to son in Flanders many a century,—slaves of slaves, dogs of the +people, beasts of the shafts and the harness, creatures that lived +straining their sinews in the gall of the cart, and died breaking their +hearts on the flints of the streets.</p> + +<p>Patrasche had been born of parents who had labored hard all their days +over the sharp-set stones of the various cities and the long, shadowless, +weary roads of the two Flanders and of Brabant. He had been born to no +other heritage than those of pain and of toil. He had been fed on curses +and baptized with blows. Why not? It was a Christian country, and +Patrasche was but a dog. Before he was fully grown he had known the +bitter gall of the cart and the collar. Before he had entered his +thirteenth month he had become the property of a hardware-dealer, who +was accustomed to wander over the land north and south, from the blue +sea to the green mountains. They sold him for a small price, because he +was so young.</p> + +<p>This man was a drunkard and a brute. The life of Patrasche was a life of +hell. To deal the tortures of hell on the animal creation is a way which +the Christians have of showing their belief in it. His purchaser was a +sullen, ill-living, brutal Brabantois, who heaped his cart full with +pots and pans and flagons and buckets, and other wares of crockery and +brass and tin, and left Patrasche to draw the load as best he might, +whilst he himself lounged idly by the side in fat and sluggish ease, +smoking his black pipe and stopping at every wineshop or café on the +road.</p> + +<p>Happily for Patrasche—or unhappily—he was very strong: he came of an +iron race, long born and bred to such cruel travail; so that he did not +die, but managed to drag on a wretched existence under the brutal +burdens, the scarifying lashes, the hunger, the thirst, the blows, the +curses, and the exhaustion which are the only wages with which the +Flemings repay the most patient and laborious of all their four-footed +victims. One day, after two years of this long and deadly agony, +Patrasche was going on as usual along one of the straight, dusty, +unlovely roads that lead to the city of Rubens. It was full midsummer, +and very warm. His cart was very heavy, piled high with goods in metal +and in earthenware. His owner sauntered on without noticing him +otherwise than by the crack of the whip as it curled round his quivering +loins. The Brabantois had paused to drink beer himself at every wayside +house, but he had forbidden Patrasche to stop a moment for a draught +from the canal. Going along thus, in the full sun, on a scorching highway, +having eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and, which was far worse to +him, not having tasted water for nearly twelve, being blind with dust, +sore with blows, and stupefied with the merciless weight which dragged +upon his loins, Patrasche, for once, staggered and foamed a little at +the mouth, and fell.</p> + +<p>He fell in the middle of the white, dusty road, in the full glare of the +sun: he was sick unto death, and motionless. His master gave him the +only medicine in his pharmacy,—kicks and oaths and blows with a cudgel +of oak, which had been often the only food and drink, the only wage and +reward, ever offered to him. But Patrasche was beyond the reach of any +torture or of any curses. Patrasche lay, dead to all appearances, down +in the white powder of the summer dust. After a while, finding it +useless to assail his ribs with punishment and his ears with +maledictions, the Brabantois—deeming life gone in him, or going so +nearly that his carcass was forever useless, unless indeed some one +should strip it of the skin for gloves—cursed him fiercely in farewell, +struck off the leathern bands of the harness, kicked his body heavily +aside into the grass, and, groaning and muttering in savage wrath, +pushed the cart lazily along the road up hill, and left the dying dog +there for the ants to sting and for the crows to pick.</p> + +<p>It was the last day before Kermesse away at Louvain, and the Brabantois +was in haste to reach the fair and get a good place for his truck of +brass wares. He was in fierce wrath, because Patrasche had been a strong +and much-enduring animal, and because he himself had now the hard task +of pushing his charette all the way to Louvain. But to stay to look +after Patrasche never entered his thoughts: the beast was dying and +useless, and he would steal, to replace him, the first large dog that he +found wandering alone out of sight of its master. Patrasche had cost him +nothing, or next to nothing, and for two long, cruel years he had made +him toil ceaselessly in his service from sunrise to sunset, through +summer and winter, in fair weather and foul.</p> + +<p>He had got a fair use and a good profit out of Patrasche: being human, +he was wise, and left the dog to draw his last breath alone in the ditch, +and have his bloodshot eyes plucked out as they might be by the birds, +whilst he himself went on his way to beg and to steal, to eat and to +drink, to dance and to sing, in the mirth at Louvain. A dying dog, a dog +of the cart,—why should he waste hours over its agonies at peril of +losing a handful of copper coins, at peril of a shout of laughter?</p> + +<p>Patrasche lay there, flung in the grass-green ditch. It was a busy road +that day, and hundreds of people, on foot and on mules, in wagons or in +carts, went by, tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain. Some saw +him, most did not even look: all passed on. A dead dog more or less,—it +was nothing in Brabant: it would be nothing anywhere in the world.</p> + +<p>After a time, amongst the holiday-makers, there came a little old man +who was bent and lame, and very feeble. He was in no guise for feasting: +he was very poorly and miserably clad, and he dragged his silent way +slowly through the dust amongst the pleasure-seekers. He looked at +Patrasche, paused, wondered, turned aside, then kneeled down in the rank +grass and weeds of the ditch, and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of +pity. There was with him a little rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of +a few years old, who pattered in amidst the bushes, that were for him +breast-high, and stood gazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor +great, quiet beast.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that these two first met,—the little Nello and the big +Patrasche.</p> + +<p>The upshot of that day was, that old Jehan Daas, with much laborious +effort, drew the sufferer homeward to his own little hut, which was a +stone's-throw off amidst the fields, and there tended him with so much +care that the sickness, which had been a brain-seizure, brought on by +heat and thirst and exhaustion, with time and shade and rest passed away, +and health and strength returned, and Patrasche staggered up again upon +his four stout, tawny legs.</p> + +<p>Now for many weeks he had been useless, powerless, sore, near to death; +but all this time he had heard no rough word, had felt no harsh touch, +but only the pitying murmurs of the little child's voice and the +soothing caress of the old man's hand.</p> + +<p>In his sickness they two had grown to care for him, this lonely old man +and the little happy child. He had a corner of the hut, with a heap of +dry grass for his bed; and they had learned to listen eagerly for his +breathing in the dark night, to tell them that he lived; and when he +first was well enough to essay a loud, hollow, broken bay, they laughed +aloud, and almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure +restoration; and little Nello, in delighted glee, hung round his rugged +neck with chains of marguerites, and kissed him with fresh and ruddy +lips.</p> + +<p>So then, when Patrasche arose, himself again, strong, big, gaunt, +powerful, his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that +there were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him; and his +heart awakened to a mighty love, which never wavered once in its +fidelity whilst life abode with him.</p> + +<p>But Patrasche, being a dog, was grateful. Patrasche lay pondering long +with grave, tender, musing brown eyes, watching the movements of his +friends.</p> + +<p>Now, the old soldier, Jehan Daas, could do nothing for his living but +limp about a little with a small cart, with which he carried daily the +milk-cans of those happier neighbors who owned cattle away into the town +of Antwerp. The villagers gave him the employment a little out of +charity,—more because it suited them well to send their milk into the +town by so honest a carrier, and bide at home themselves to look after +their gardens, their cows, their poultry, or their little fields. But it +was becoming hard work for the old man. He was eighty-three, and Antwerp +was a good league off, or more.</p> + +<p>Patrasche watched the milk-cans come and go that one day when he had got +well and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round his +tawny neck.</p> + +<p>The next morning, Patrasche, before the old man had touched the cart, +arose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles, and +testified as plainly as dumb show could do his desire and his ability to +work in return for the bread of charity that he had eaten. Jehan Daas +resisted long, for the old man was one of those who thought it a foul +shame to bind dogs to labor for which Nature never formed them. But +Patrasche would not be gainsayed: finding they did not harness him, he +tried to draw the cart onward with his teeth.</p> + +<p>At length Jehan Daas gave way, vanquished by the persistence and the +gratitude of this creature whom he had succored. He fashioned his cart +so that Patrasche could run in it, and this he did every morning of his +life thenceforward.</p> + +<p>When the winter came, Jehan Daas thanked the blessed fortune that had +brought him to the dying dog in the ditch that fair-day of Louvain; for +he was very old, and he grew feebler with each year, and he would ill +have known how to pull his load of milk-cans over the snows and through +the deep ruts in the mud if it had not been for the strength and the +industry of the animal he had befriended. As for Patrasche, it seemed +heaven to him. After the frightful burdens that his old master had +compelled him to strain under, at the call of the whip at every step, it +seemed nothing to him but amusement to step out with this little light +green cart, with its bright brass cans, by the side of the gentle old +man who always paid him with a tender caress and with a kindly word. +Besides, his work was over by three or four in the day, and after that +time he was free to do as he would,—to stretch himself, to sleep in the +sun, to wander in the fields, to romp with the young child, or to play +with his fellow-dogs. Patrasche was very happy.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for his peace, his former owner was killed in a drunken +brawl at the Kermesse of Mechlin, and so sought not after him nor +disturbed him in his new and well-loved home.</p> + +<p>A few years later, old Jehan Daas, who had always been a cripple, became +so paralyzed with rheumatism that it was impossible for him to go out +with the cart any more. Then little Nello, being now grown to his sixth +year of age, and knowing the town well from having accompanied his +grandfather so many times, took his place beside the cart, and sold the +milk and received the coins in exchange, and brought them back to their +respective owners with a pretty grace and seriousness which charmed all +who beheld him.</p> + +<p>The little Ardennois was a beautiful child, with dark, grave, tender +eyes, and a lovely bloom upon his face, and fair locks that clustered to +his throat; and many an artist sketched the group as it went by +him,—the green cart with the brass flagons of Teniers and Mieris and +Van Tal, and the great tawny-colored, massive dog, with his belled +harness that chimed cheerily as he went, and the small figure that ran +beside him which had little white feet in great wooden shoes, and a soft, +grave, innocent, happy face like the little fair children of Rubens.</p> + +<p>Nello and Patrasche did the work so well and so joyfully together that +Jehan Daas himself, when the summer came and he was better again, had no +need to stir out, but could sit in the doorway in the sun and see them +go forth through the garden wicket, and then doze and dream and pray a +little, and then awake again as the clock tolled three and watch for +their return. And on their return Patrasche would shake himself free of +his harness with a bay of glee, and Nello would recount with pride the +doings of the day; and they would all go in together to their meal of +rye bread and milk or soup, and would see the shadows lengthen over the +great plain, and see the twilight veil the fair cathedral spire; and +then lie down together to sleep peacefully while the old man said a +prayer.</p> + +<p>So the days and the years went on, and the lives of Nello and Patrasche +were happy, innocent, and healthful.</p> + +<p>In the spring and summer especially were they glad. Flanders is not a +lovely land, and around the burgh of Rubens it is perhaps least lovely +of all. Corn and colza, pasture and plough, succeed each other on the +characterless plain in wearying repetition, and save by some gaunt gray +tower, with its peal of pathetic bells, or some figure coming athwart +the fields, made picturesque by a gleaner's bundle or a woodman's fagot, +there is no change, no variety, no beauty anywhere; and he who has dwelt +upon the mountains or amidst the forests feels oppressed as by +imprisonment with the tedium and the endlessness of that vast and dreary +level. But it is green and very fertile, and it has wide horizons that +have a certain charm of their own even in their dulness and monotony; +and amongst the rushes by the waterside the flowers grow, and the trees +rise tall and fresh where the barges glide with their great hulks black +against the sun, and their little green barrels and varicolored flags +gay against the leaves. Anyway, there is greenery and breadth of space +enough to be as good as beauty to a child and a dog; and these two asked +no better, when their work was done, than to lie buried in the lush +grasses on the side of the canal, and watch the cumbrous vessels +drifting by and bringing the crisp salt smell of the sea amongst the +blossoming scents of the country summer.</p> + +<p>True, in the winter it was harder, and they had to rise in the darkness +and the bitter cold, and they had seldom as much as they could have +eaten any day, and the hut was scarce better than a shed when the nights +were cold, although it looked so pretty in warm weather, buried in a +great kindly-clambering vine, that never bore fruit, indeed, but which +covered it with luxuriant green tracery all through the months of +blossom and harvest. In winter the winds found many holes in the walls +of the poor little hut, and the vine was black and leafless, and the +bare lands looked very bleak and drear without, and sometimes within the +floor was flooded and then frozen. In winter it was hard, and the snow +numbed the little white limbs of Nello, and the icicles cut the brave, +untiring feet of Patrasche.</p> + +<p>But even then they were never heard to lament, either of them. The +child's wooden shoes and the dog's four legs would trot manfully +together over the frozen fields to the chime of the bells on the +harness; and then sometimes, in the streets of Antwerp, some housewife +would bring them a bowl of soup and a handful of bread, or some kindly +trader would throw some billets of fuel into the little cart as it went +homeward, or some woman in their own village would bid them keep some +share of the milk they carried for their own food; and then they would +run over the white lands, through the early darkness, bright and happy, +and burst with a shout of joy into their home.</p> + +<p>So, on the whole, it was well with them, very well; and Patrasche, +meeting on the highway or in the public streets the many dogs who toiled +from daybreak into nightfall, paid only with blows and curses, and +loosened from the shafts with a kick to starve and freeze as best they +might,—Patrasche in his heart was very grateful to his fate, and +thought it the fairest and the kindliest the world could hold. Though he +was often very hungry indeed when he lay down at night; though he had to +work in the heats of summer noons and the rasping chills of winter +dawns; though his feet were often tender with wounds from the sharp +edges of the jagged pavement; though he had to perform tasks beyond his +strength and against his nature,—yet he was grateful and content: he +did his duty with each day, and the eyes that he loved smiled down on +him. It was sufficient for Patrasche.</p> + +<p>There was only one thing which caused Patrasche any uneasiness in his +life, and it was this. Antwerp, as all the world knows, is full at every +turn of old piles of stones, dark and ancient and majestic, standing in +crooked courts, jammed against gateways and taverns, rising by the +water's edge, with bells ringing above them in the air, and ever and +again out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. There they +remain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amidst the +squalor, the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness and the commerce of the +modern world, and all day long the clouds drift and the birds circle and +the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their feet there +sleeps—R<small>UBENS</small>.</p> + +<p>And the greatness of the mighty Master still rests upon Antwerp, and +wherever we turn in its narrow streets his glory lies therein, so that +all mean things are thereby transfigured; and as we pace slowly through +the winding ways, and by the edge of the stagnant water, and through the +noisome courts, his spirit abides with us, and the heroic beauty of his +visions is about us, and the stones that once felt his footsteps and +bore his shadow seem to arise and speak of him with living voices. For +the city which is the tomb of Rubens still lives to us through him, and +him alone.</p> + +<p>It is so quiet there by that great white sepulchre,—so quiet, save only +when the organ peals and the choir cries aloud the Salve Regina or the +Kyrie Eleison. Sure no artist ever had a greater gravestone than that +pure marble sanctuary gives to him in the heart of his birthplace in the +chancel of St. Jacques.</p> + +<p>Without Rubens, what were Antwerp? A dirty, dusky, bustling mart, which +no man would ever care to look upon save the traders who do business on +its wharves. With Rubens, to the whole world of men it is a sacred name, +a sacred soil, a Bethlehem where a god of Art saw light, a Golgotha +where a god of Art lies dead.</p> + +<p>O nations! closely should you treasure your great men, for by them alone +will the future know of you. Flanders in her generations has been wise. +In his life she glorified this greatest of her sons, and in his death +she magnifies his name. But her wisdom is very rare.</p> + +<p>Now, the trouble of Patrasche was this. Into these great, sad piles of +stones, that reared their melancholy majesty above the crowded roofs, +the child Nello would many and many a time enter, and disappear through +their dark, arched portals, whilst Patrasche, left without upon the +pavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on what could be the charm +which thus allured from him his inseparable and beloved companion. Once +or twice he did essay to see for himself, clattering up the steps with +his milk-cart behind him; but thereon he had been always sent back again +summarily by a tall custodian in black clothes and silver chains of +office; and fearful of bringing his little master into trouble, he +desisted, and remained couched patiently before the churches until such +time as the boy reappeared. It was not the fact of his going into them +which disturbed Patrasche: he knew that people went to church: all the +village went to the small, tumble-down, gray pile opposite the red +windmill. What troubled him was that little Nello always looked +strangely when he came out, always very flushed or very pale; and +whenever he returned home after such visitations would sit silent and +dreaming, not caring to play, but gazing out at the evening skies beyond +the line of the canal, very subdued and almost sad.</p> + +<p>What was it? wondered Patrasche. He thought it could not be good or +natural for the little lad to be so grave, and in his dumb fashion he +tried all he could to keep Nello by him in the sunny fields or in the +busy market-place. But to the churches Nello would go: most often of all +would he go to the great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the +stones by the iron fragments of Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch +himself and yawn and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain, +until the doors closed and the child perforce came forth again, and +winding his arms about the dog's neck would kiss him on his broad, +tawny-colored forehead, and murmur always the same words: "If I could +only see them, Patrasche!—if I could only see them!"</p> + +<p>What were they? pondered Patrasche, looking up with large, wistful, +sympathetic eyes.</p> + +<p>One day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar, +he got in for a moment after his little friend and saw. "They" were two +great covered pictures on either side of the choir.</p> + +<p>Nello was kneeling, rapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar-picture of +the Assumption, and when he noticed Patrasche, and rose and drew the dog +gently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked up +at the veiled places as he passed them, and murmured to his companion, +"It is so terrible not to see them, Patrasche, just because one is poor +and cannot pay! He never meant that the poor should not see them when he +painted them, I am sure. He would have had us see them any day, every +day: that I am sure. And they keep them shrouded there,—shrouded in the +dark, the beautiful things!—and they never feel the light, and no eyes +look on them, unless rich people come and pay. If I could only see them, +I would be content to die."</p> + +<p>But he could not see them, and Patrasche could not help him, for to gain +the silver piece that the church exacts as the price for looking on the +glories of the Elevation of the Cross and the Descent of the Cross was a +thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would have +been to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. They had never so much +as a sou to spare: if they cleared enough to get a little wood for the +stove, a little broth for the pot, it was the utmost they could do. And +yet the heart of the child was set in sore and endless longing upon +beholding the greatness of the two veiled Rubens.</p> + +<p>The whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an +absorbing passion for Art. Going on his ways through the old city in the +early days before the sun or the people had risen, Nello, who looked +only a little peasant-boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from +door to door, was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god. +Nello, cold and hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the +winter winds blowing amongst his curls and lifting his poor thin +garments, was in a rapture of meditation, wherein all that he saw was +the beautiful fair face of the Mary of the Assumption, with the waves of +her golden hair lying upon her shoulders, and the light of an eternal +sun shining down upon her brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted +by fortune, and untaught in letters, and unheeded by men, had the +compensation or the curse which is called Genius.</p> + +<p>No one knew it. He as little as any. No one knew it. Only indeed +Patrasche, who, being with him always, saw him draw with chalk upon the +stones any and every thing that grew or breathed, heard him on his +little bed of hay murmur all manner of timid, pathetic prayers to the +spirit of the great Master; watched his gaze darken and his face radiate +at the evening glow of sunset or the rosy rising of the dawn; and felt +many and many a time the tears of a strange nameless pain and joy, +mingled together, fall hotly from the bright young eyes upon his own +wrinkled, yellow forehead.</p> + +<p>"I should go to my grave quite content if I thought, Nello, that when +thou growest a man thou couldst own this hut and the little plot of +ground, and labor for thyself, and be called Baas by thy neighbors," +said the old man Jehan many an hour from his bed. For to own a bit of +soil, and to be called Baas—master—by the hamlet round, is to have +achieved the highest ideal of a Flemish peasant; and the old soldier, +who had wandered over all the earth in his youth, and had brought +nothing back, deemed in his old age that to live and die on one spot in +contented humility was the fairest fate he could desire for his darling. +But Nello said nothing.</p> + +<p>The same leaven was working in him that in other times begat Rubens and +Jordaens and the Van Eycks, and all their wondrous tribe, and in times +more recent begat in the green country of the Ardennes, where the Meuse +washes the old walls of Dijon, the great artist of the Patroclus, whose +genius is too near us for us aright to measure its divinity.</p> + +<p>Nello dreamed of other things in the future than of tilling the little +rood of earth, and living under the wattle roof, and being called Baas +by neighbors a little poorer or a little less poor than himself. The +cathedral spire, where it rose beyond the fields in the ruddy evening +skies or in the dim, gray, misty mornings, said other things to him than +this. But these he told only to Patrasche, whispering, childlike, his +fancies in the dog's ear when they went together at their work through +the fogs of the daybreak, or lay together at their rest amongst the +rustling rushes by the water's side.</p> + +<p>For such dreams are not easily shaped into speech to awake the slow +sympathies of human auditors; and they would only have sorely perplexed +and troubled the poor old man bedridden in his corner, who, for his part, +whenever he had trodden the streets of Antwerp, had thought the daub of +blue and red that they called a Madonna, on the walls of the wine-shop +where he drank his sou's worth of black beer, quite as good as any of +the famous altar-pieces for which the stranger folk travelled far and +wide into Flanders from every land on which the good sun shone.</p> + +<p>There was only one other beside Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at +all of his daring fantasies. This other was little Alois, who lived at +the old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was +the best-to-do husbandman in all the village. Little Alois was only a +pretty baby with soft round, rosy features, made lovely by those sweet, +dark eyes that the Spanish rule has left in so many a Flemish face, in +testimony of the Alvan dominion, as Spanish art has left broadsown +throughout the country majestic palaces and stately courts, gilded +house-fronts and sculptured lintels,—histories in blazonry and poems in +stone.</p> + +<p>Little Alois was often with Nello and Patrasche. They played in the +fields, they ran in the snow, they gathered the daisies and bilberries, +they went up to the old gray church together, and they often sat +together by the broad wood-fire in the mill-house. Little Alois, indeed, +was the richest child in the hamlet. She had neither brother nor sister; +her blue serge dress had never a hole in it; at Kermesse she had as many +gilded nuts and Agni Dei in sugar as her hands could hold; and when she +went up for her first communion her flaxen curls were covered with a cap +of richest Mechlin lace, which had been her mother's and her +grandmother's before it came to her. Men spoke already, though she had +but twelve years, of the good wife she would be for their sons to woo +and win; but she herself was a little gay, simple child, in no wise +conscious of her heritage, and she loved no playfellows so well as Jehan +Daas's grandson and his dog.</p> + +<p>One day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but somewhat stern, came on +a pretty group in the long meadow behind the mill, where the aftermath +had that day been cut. It was his little daughter sitting amidst the hay, +with the great tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many wreaths of +poppies and blue cornflowers round them both: on a clean smooth slab of +pine wood the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick of charcoal.</p> + +<p>The miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it +was so strangely like, and he loved his only child closely and well. +Then he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her mother +needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid; then, +turning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. "Dost do much of such +folly?" he asked, but there was a tremble in his voice.</p> + +<p>Nello colored and hung his head. "I draw everything I see," he murmured.</p> + +<p>The miller was silent; then he stretched his hand out with a franc in it. +"It is folly, as I say, and evil waste of time; nevertheless, it is like +Alois, and will please the house-mother. Take this silver bit for it and +leave it for me."</p> + +<p>The color died out of the face of the young Ardennois: he lifted his +head and put his hands behind his back. "Keep your money and the +portrait both, Baas Cogez," he said simply. "You have been often good to +me." Then he called Patrasche to him, and walked away across the fields.</p> + +<p>"I could have seen them with that franc," he murmured to Patrasche, "but +I could not sell her picture,—not even for them."</p> + +<p>Baas Cogez went into his mill-house sore troubled in his mind. "That lad +must not be so much with Alois," he said to his wife that night. +"Trouble may come of it hereafter: he is fifteen now, and she is twelve; +and the boy is comely of face and form."</p> + +<p>"And he is a good lad and a loyal," said the housewife, feasting her +eyes on the piece of pine wood where it was throned above the chimney +with a cuckoo clock in oak and a Calvary in wax.</p> + +<p>"Yea, I do not gainsay that," said the miller, draining his pewter +flagon.</p> + +<p>"Then if what you think of were ever to come to pass," said the wife, +hesitatingly, "would it matter so much? She will have enough for both, +and one cannot be better than happy."</p> + +<p>"You are a woman, and therefore a fool," said the miller, harshly, +striking his pipe on the table. "The lad is naught but a beggar, and, +with these painter's fancies, worse than a beggar. Have a care that they +are not together in the future, or I will send the child to the surer +keeping of the nuns of the Sacred Heart."</p> + +<p>The poor mother was terrified, and promised humbly to do his will. Not +that she could bring herself altogether to separate the child from her +favorite playmate, nor did the miller even desire that extreme of +cruelty to a young lad who was guilty of nothing except poverty. But +there were many ways in which little Alois was kept away from her chosen +companion: and Nello, being a boy proud and quiet and sensitive, was +quickly wounded, and ceased to turn his own steps and those of Patrasche, +as he had been used to do with every moment of leisure, to the old red +mill upon the slope. What his offence was he did not know: he supposed +he had in some manner angered Baas Cogez by taking the portrait of Alois +in the meadow; and when the child who loved him would run to him and +nestle her hand in his, he would smile at her very sadly and say with a +tender concern for her before himself, "Nay, Alois, do not anger your +father. He thinks that I make you idle, dear, and he is not pleased that +you should be with me. He is a good man and loves you well: we will not +anger him, Alois."</p> + +<p>But it was with a sad heart that he said it, and the earth did not look +so bright to him as it had used to do when he went out at sunrise under +the poplars down the straight roads with Patrasche. The old red mill had +been a landmark to him, and he had been used to pause by it, going and +coming, for a cheery greeting with its people as her little flaxen head +rose above the low mill-wicket, and her little rosy hands had held out a +bone or a crust to Patrasche. Now the dog looked wistfully at a closed +door, and the boy went on without pausing, with a pang at his heart, and +the child sat within with tears dropping slowly on the knitting to which +she was set on her little stool by the stove; and Baas Cogez, working +among his sacks and his mill-gear, would harden his will and say to +himself, "It is best so. The lad is all but a beggar, and full of idle, +dreaming fooleries. Who knows what mischief might not come of it in the +future?" So he was wise in his generation, and would not have the door +unbarred, except upon rare and formal occasions, which seemed to have +neither warmth nor mirth in them to the two children, who had been +accustomed so long to a daily gleeful, careless, happy interchange of +greeting, speech, and pastime, with no other watcher of their sports or +auditor of their fancies than Patrasche, sagely shaking the brazen bells +of his collar and responding with all a dog's swift sympathies to their +every change of mood.</p> + +<p>All this while the little panel of pine wood remained over the chimney +in the mill-kitchen with the cuckoo clock and the waxen Calvary; and +sometimes it seemed to Nello a little hard that whilst his gift was +accepted he himself should be denied.</p> + +<p>But he did not complain: it was his habit to be quiet: old Jehan Daas +had said ever to him, "We are poor: we must take what God sends,—the +ill with the good: the poor cannot choose."</p> + +<p>To which the boy had always listened in silence, being reverent of his +old grandfather; but nevertheless a certain vague, sweet hope, such as +beguiles the children of genius, had whispered in his heart, "Yet the +poor do choose sometimes,—choose to be great, so that men cannot say +them nay." And he thought so still in his innocence; and one day, when +the little Alois, finding him by chance alone amongst the cornfields by +the canal, ran to him and held him close, and sobbed piteously because +the morrow would be her saint's day, and for the first time in all her +life her parents had failed to bid him to the little supper and romp in +the great barns with which her feast-day was always celebrated, Nello +had kissed her and murmured to her in firm faith, "It shall be different +one day, Alois. One day that little bit of pine wood that your father +has of mine shall be worth its weight in silver; and he will not shut +the door against me then. Only love me always, dear little Alois, only +love me always, and I will be great."</p> + +<p>"And if I do not love you?" the pretty child asked, pouting a little +through her tears, and moved by the instinctive coquetries of her sex.</p> + +<p>Nello's eyes left her face and wandered to the distance, where in the +red and gold of the Flemish night the cathedral spire rose. There was a +smile on his face so sweet and yet so sad that little Alois was awed by +it. "I will be great still," he said under his breath,—"great still, or +die, Alois."</p> + +<p>"You do not love me," said the little spoilt child, pushing him away; +but the boy shook his head and smiled, and went on his way through the +tall yellow corn, seeing as in a vision some day in a fair future when +he should come into that old familiar land and ask Alois of her people, +and be not refused or denied, but received in honor, whilst the village +folk should throng to look upon him and say in one another's ears, "Dost +see him? He is a king among men, for he is a great artist and the world +speaks his name; and yet he was only our poor little Nello, who was a +beggar, as one may say, and only got his bread by the help of his dog." +And he thought how he would fold his grandsire in furs and purples, and +portray him as the old man is portrayed in the Family in the chapel of +St. Jacques; and of how he would hang the throat of Patrasche with a +collar of gold, and place him on his right hand, and say to the people, +"This was once my only friend"; and of how he would build himself a +great white marble palace, and make to himself luxuriant gardens of +pleasure, on the slope looking outward to where the cathedral spire rose, +and not dwell in it himself, but summon to it, as to a home, all men +young and poor and friendless, but of the will to do mighty things; and +of how he would say to them always, if they sought to bless his name, +"Nay, do not thank me,—thank Rubens. Without him, what should I have +been?" And these dreams, beautiful, impossible, innocent, free of all +selfishness, full of heroical worship, were so closely about him as he +went that he was happy,—happy even on this sad anniversary of Alois's +saint's day, when he and Patrasche went home by themselves to the little +dark hut and the meal of black bread, whilst in the mill-house all the +children of the village sang and laughed, and ate the big round cakes of +Dijon and the almond gingerbread of Brabant, and danced in the great +barn to the light of the stars and the music of flute and fiddle.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Patrasche," he said, with his arms round the dog's neck as +they both sat in the door of the hut, where the sounds of the mirth at +the mill came down to them on the night-air,—"never mind. It shall all +be changed by and by."</p> + +<p>He believed in the future: Patrasche, of more experience and of more +philosophy, thought that the loss of the mill-supper in the present was +ill compensated by dreams of milk and honey in some vague hereafter. And +Patrasche growled whenever he passed by Baas Cogez.</p> + +<p>"This is Alois's name-day, is it not?" said the old man Daas that night +from the corner where he was stretched upon his bed of sacking.</p> + +<p>The boy gave a gesture of assent: he wished that the old man's memory +had erred a little, instead of keeping such sure account.</p> + +<p>"And why not there?" his grandfather pursued. "Thou hast never missed a +year before, Nello."</p> + +<p>"Thou art too sick to leave," murmured the lad, bending his handsome +young head over the bed.</p> + +<p>"Tut! tut! Mother Nulette would have come and sat with me, as she does +scores of times. What is the cause, Nello?" the old man persisted. "Thou +surely hast not had ill words with the little one?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, grandfather,—never," said the boy, quickly, with a hot color in +his bent face. "Simply and truly, Baas Cogez did not have me asked this +year. He has taken some whim against me."</p> + +<p>"But thou hast done nothing wrong?"</p> + +<p>"That I know—nothing. I took the portrait of Alois on a piece of pine: +that is all."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" The old man was silent: the truth suggested itself to him with the +boy's innocent answer. He was tied to a bed of dried leaves in the +corner of a wattle hut, but he had not wholly forgotten what the ways of +the world were like.</p> + +<p>He drew Nello's fair head fondly to his breast with a tenderer gesture. +"Thou art very poor, my child," he said with a quiver the more in his +aged, trembling voice,—"so poor! It is very hard for thee."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I am rich," murmured Nello; and in his innocence he thought +so,—rich with the imperishable powers that are mightier than the might +of kings. And he went and stood by the door of the hut in the quiet +autumn night, and watched the stars troop by and the tall poplars bend +and shiver in the wind. All the casements of the mill-house were lighted, +and every now and then the notes of the flute came to him. The tears +fell down his cheeks, for he was but a child, yet he smiled, for he said +to himself, "In the future!" He stayed there until all was quite still +and dark, then he and Patrasche went within and slept together, long and +deeply, side by side.</p> + +<p>Now he had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little +outhouse to the hut, which no one entered but himself,—a dreary place, +but with abundant clear light from the north. Here he had fashioned +himself rudely an easel in rough lumber, and here on a great gray sea of +stretched paper he had given shape to one of the innumerable fancies +which possessed his brain. No one had ever taught him anything; colors +he had no means to buy; he had gone without bread many a time to procure +even the few rude vehicles that he had here; and it was only in black or +white that he could fashion the things he saw. This great figure which +he had drawn here in chalk was only an old man sitting on a fallen +tree,—only that. He had seen old Michel the woodman sitting so at +evening many a time. He had never had a soul to tell him of outline or +perspective, of anatomy or of shadow, and yet he had given all the weary, +worn-out age, all the sad, quiet patience, all the rugged, careworn +pathos of his original, and given them so that the old lonely figure was +a poem, sitting there, meditative and alone, on the dead tree, with the +darkness of the descending night behind him.</p> + +<p>It was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults, no doubt; and yet +it was real, true in Nature, true in Art, and very mournful, and in a +manner beautiful.</p> + +<p>Patrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation +after the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a +hope—vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished—of sending this +great drawing to compete for a prize of two hundred francs a year which +it was announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent, +scholar or peasant, under eighteen, who would attempt to win it with +some unaided work of chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in +the town of Rubens were to be the judges and elect the victor according +to his merits.</p> + +<p>All the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this +treasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first step toward +independence and the mysteries of the art which he blindly, ignorantly, +and yet passionately adored.</p> + +<p>He said nothing to any one: his grandfather would not have understood, +and little Alois was lost to him. Only to Patrasche he told all, and +whispered, "Rubens would give it me, I think, if he knew."</p> + +<p>Patrasche thought so too, for he knew that Rubens had loved dogs or he +had never painted them with such exquisite fidelity; and men who loved +dogs were, as Patrasche knew, always pitiful.</p> + +<p>The drawings were to go in on the first day of December, and the +decision be given on the twenty-fourth, so that he who should win might +rejoice with all his people at the Christmas season.</p> + +<p>In the twilight of a bitter wintry day, and with a beating heart, now +quick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture on +his little green milk-cart, and took it, with the help of Patrasche, +into the town, and there left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a public +building.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is worth nothing at all. How can I tell?" he thought, with +the heart-sickness of a great timidity. Now that he had left it there, +it seemed to him so hazardous, so vain, so foolish, to dream that he, a +little lad with bare feet, who barely knew his letters, could do +anything at which great painters, real artists, could ever deign to look. +Yet he took heart as he went by the cathedral: the lordly form of Rubens +seemed to rise from the fog and the darkness, and to loom in its +magnificence before him, whilst the lips with their kindly smile seemed +to him to murmur, "Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart and by +faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp."</p> + +<p>Nello ran home through the cold night, comforted. He had done his best: +the rest must be as God willed, he thought, in that innocent, +unquestioning faith which had been taught him in the little gray chapel +amongst the willows and the poplar-trees.</p> + +<p>The winter was very sharp already. That night, after they had reached +the hut, snow fell; and fell for very many days after that, so that the +paths and the divisions in the fields were all obliterated, and all the +smaller streams were frozen over, and the cold was intense upon the +plains. Then, indeed, it became hard work to go round for the milk while +the world was all dark, and carry it through the darkness to the silent +town. Hard work, especially for Patrasche, for the passage of the years, +that were only bringing Nello a stronger youth, were bringing him old +age, and his joints were stiff and his bones ached often. But he would +never give up his share of the labor. Nello would fain have spared him +and drawn the cart himself, but Patrasche would not allow it. All he +would ever permit or accept was the help of a thrust from behind to the +truck as it lumbered along through the ice-ruts. Patrasche had lived in +harness, and he was proud of it. He suffered a great deal sometimes from +frost, and the terrible roads, and the rheumatic pains of his limbs, but +he only drew his breath hard and bent his stout neck, and trod onward +with steady patience.</p> + +<p>"Rest thee at home, Patrasche,—it is time thou didst rest,—and I can +quite well push in the cart by myself," urged Nello many a morning; but +Patrasche, who understood him aright, would no more have consented to +stay at home than a veteran soldier to shirk when the charge was +sounding; and every day he would rise and place himself in his shafts, +and plod along over the snow through the fields that his four round feet +had left their print upon so many, many years.</p> + +<p>"One must never rest till one dies," thought Patrasche; and sometimes it +seemed to him that that time of rest for him was not very far off. His +sight was less clear than it had been, and it gave him pain to rise +after the night's sleep, though he would never lie a moment in his straw +when once the bell of the chapel tolling five let him know that the +daybreak of labor had begun.</p> + +<p>"My poor Patrasche, we shall soon lie quiet together, you and I," said +old Jehan Daas, stretching out to stroke the head of Patrasche with the +old withered hand which had always shared with him its one poor crust of +bread; and the hearts of the old man and the old dog ached together with +one thought: When they were gone who would care for their darling?</p> + +<p>One afternoon, as they came back from Antwerp over the snow, which had +become hard and smooth as marble over all the Flemish plains, they found +dropped in the road a pretty little puppet, a tambourine-player, all +scarlet and gold, about six inches high, and, unlike greater personages +when Fortune lets them drop, quite unspoiled and unhurt by its fall. It +was a pretty toy. Nello tried to find its owner, and, failing, thought +that it was just the thing to please Alois.</p> + +<p>It was quite night when he passed the mill-house: he knew the little +window of her room. It could be no harm, he thought, if he gave her his +little piece of treasure-trove, they had been playfellows so long. There +was a shed with a sloping roof beneath her casement: he climbed it and +tapped softly at the lattice: there was a little light within. The child +opened it and looked out, half frightened.</p> + +<p>Nello put the tambourine-player into her hands. "Here is a doll I found +in the snow, Alois. Take it," he whispered,—"take it, and God bless +thee, dear!"</p> + +<p>He slid down from the shed-roof before she had time to thank him, and +ran off through the darkness.</p> + +<p>That night there was a fire at the mill. Out-buildings and much corn +were destroyed, although the mill itself and the dwelling-house were +unharmed. All the village was out in terror, and engines came tearing +through the snow from Antwerp. The miller was insured, and would lose +nothing: nevertheless, he was in furious wrath, and declared aloud that +the fire was due to no accident, but to some foul intent.</p> + +<p>Nello, awakened from his sleep, ran to help with the rest: Baas Cogez +thrust him angrily aside. "Thou wert loitering here after dark," he said +roughly. "I believe, on my soul, that thou dost know more of the fire +than any one."</p> + +<p>Nello heard him in silence, stupefied, not supposing that any one could +say such things except in jest, and not comprehending how any one could +pass a jest at such a time.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the miller said the brutal thing openly to many of his +neighbors in the day that followed; and though no serious charge was +ever preferred against the lad, it got bruited about that Nello had been +seen in the mill-yard after dark on some unspoken errand, and that he +bore Baas Cogez a grudge for forbidding his intercourse with little +Alois; and so the hamlet, which followed the sayings of its richest +landowner servilely, and whose families all hoped to secure the riches +of Alois in some future time for their sons, took the hint to give grave +looks and cold words to old Jehan Daas's grandson. No one said anything +to him openly, but all the village agreed together to humor the miller's +prejudice, and at the cottages and farms where Nello and Patrasche +called every morning for the milk for Antwerp, downcast glances and +brief phrases replaced to them the broad smiles and cheerful greetings +to which they had been always used. No one really credited the miller's +absurd suspicions, nor the outrageous accusations born of them, but the +people were all very poor and very ignorant, and the one rich man of the +place had pronounced against him. Nello, in his innocence and his +friendlessness, had no strength to stem the popular tide.</p> + +<p>"Thou art very cruel to the lad," the miller's wife dared to say, +weeping, to her lord. "Sure he is an innocent lad and a faithful, and +would never dream of any such wickedness, however sore his heart might +be."</p> + +<p>But Baas Cogez being an obstinate man, having once said a thing, held to +it doggedly, though in his innermost soul he knew well the injustice +that he was committing.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Nello endured the injury done against him with a certain +proud patience that disdained to complain; he only gave way a little +when he was quite alone with old Patrasche. Besides, he thought, "If it +should win! They will be sorry then, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Still, to a boy not quite sixteen, and who had dwelt in one little world +all his short life, and in his childhood had been caressed and applauded +on all sides, it was a hard trial to have the whole of that little world +turn against him for naught. Especially hard in that bleak, snow-bound, +famine-stricken winter-time, when the only light and warmth there could +be found abode beside the village hearths and in the kindly greetings of +neighbors. In the winter-time all drew nearer to each other, all to all, +except to Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything to +do, and who were left to fare as they might with the old paralyzed, +bedridden man in the little cabin, whose fire was often low, and whose +board was often without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who +had taken to drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various +dairies, and there were only three or four of the people who had refused +his terms of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart. So +that the burden which Patrasche drew had become very light, and the +centime-pieces in Nello's pouch had become, alas! very small likewise.</p> + +<p>The dog would stop, as usual, at all the familiar gates which were now +closed to him, and look up at them with wistful, mute appeal; and it +cost the neighbors a pang to shut their doors and their hearts, and let +Patrasche draw his cart on again, empty. Nevertheless, they did it, for +they desired to please Baas Cogez.</p> + +<p>Noël was close at hand.</p> + +<p>The weather was very wild and cold. The snow was six feet deep, and the +ice was firm enough to bear oxen and men upon it everywhere. At this +season the little village was always gay and cheerful. At the poorest +dwelling there were possets and cakes, joking and dancing, sugared +saints and gilded Jésus. The merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on +the horses; everywhere within doors some well-filled soup-pot sang and +smoked over the stove; and everywhere over the snow without laughing +maidens pattered in bright kerchiefs and stout kirtles, going to and +from the mass. Only in the little hut it was very dark and very cold.</p> + +<p>Nello and Patrasche were left utterly alone, for one night in the week +before the Christmas Day, death entered there, and took away from life +forever old Jehan Daas, who had never known of life aught save its +poverty and its pains. He had long been half dead, incapable of any +movement except a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a +gentle word; and yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in +it; they mourned him passionately. He had passed away from them in his +sleep, and when in the gray dawn they learned their bereavement, +unutterable solitude and desolation seemed to close around them. He had +long been only a poor, feeble, paralyzed old man, who could not raise a +hand in their defence, but he had loved them well; his smile had always +welcomed their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be +comforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that +held his body to the nameless grave by the little gray church. They were +his only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon +earth,—the young boy and the old dog.</p> + +<p>"Surely, he will relent now and let the poor lad come hither?" thought +the miller's wife, glancing at her husband where he smoked by the hearth.</p> + +<p>Baas Cogez knew her thought, but he hardened his heart, and would not +unbar his door as the little, humble funeral went by. "The boy is a +beggar," he said to himself: "he shall not be about Alois."</p> + +<p>The woman dared not say anything aloud, but when the grave was closed +and the mourners had gone, she put a wreath of immortelles into Alois's +hands and bade her go and lay it reverently on the dark, unmarked mound +where the snow was displaced.</p> + +<p>Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that poor, +melancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. There was a +month's rent over-due for their little home, and when Nello had paid the +last sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He went and begged +grace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every Sunday night to +drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The cobbler would +grant no mercy. He was a harsh, miserly man, and loved money. He claimed +in default of his rent every stick and stone, every pot and pan, in the +hut, and bade Nello and Patrasche be out of it on the morrow.</p> + +<p>Now, the cabin was lowly enough, and in some sense miserable enough, and +yet their hearts clove to it with a great affection. They had been so +happy there, and in the summer, with its clambering vine and its +flowering beans, it was so pretty and bright in the midst of the +sun-lighted fields! Their life in it had been full of labor and +privation, and yet they had been so well content, so gay of heart, +running together to meet the old man's never-failing smile of welcome!</p> + +<p>All night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the +darkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were +insensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them.</p> + +<p>When the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning of +Christmas Eve. With a shudder, Nello clasped close to him his only +friend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's frank forehead. +"Let us go, Patrasche,—dear, dear Patrasche," he murmured. "We will not +wait to be kicked out: let us go."</p> + +<p>Patrasche had no will but his, and they went sadly, side by side, out +from the little place which was so dear to them both, and in which every +humble, homely thing was to them precious and beloved. Patrasche drooped +his head wearily as he passed by his own green cart; it was no longer +his,—it had to go with the rest to pay the rent, and his brass harness +lay idle and glittering on the snow. The dog could have lain down beside +it and died for very heart-sickness as he went, but whilst the lad lived +and needed him Patrasche would not yield and give way.</p> + +<p>They took the old accustomed road into Antwerp. The day had yet scarce +more than dawned, most of the shutters were still closed, but some of +the villagers were about. They took no notice whilst the dog and the boy +passed by them. At one door Nello paused and looked wistfully within: +his grandfather had done many a kindly turn in neighbor's service to the +people who dwelt there.</p> + +<p>"Would you give Patrasche a crust?" he said timidly. "He is old, and he +has had nothing since last forenoon."</p> + +<p>The woman shut the door hastily, murmuring some vague saying about wheat +and rye being very dear that season. The boy and the dog went on again +wearily: they asked no more.</p> + +<p>By slow and painful ways they reached Antwerp as the chimes tolled ten.</p> + +<p>"If I had anything about me I could sell to get him bread!" thought +Nello, but he had nothing except the wisp of linen and serge that +covered him, and his pair of wooden shoes.</p> + +<p>Patrasche understood, and nestled his nose into the lad's hand, as +though to pray him not to be disquieted for any woe or want of his.</p> + +<p>The winner of the drawing-prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the +public building where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On +the steps and in the entrance-hall was a crowd of youths,—some of his +age, some older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart was +sick with fear as he went amongst them, holding Patrasche close to him. +The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with brazen +clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager, panting +throng rushed in; it was known that the selected picture would be raised +above the rest upon a wooden dais.</p> + +<p>A mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed +him. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high: it was +not his own! A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory +had been adjudged to Stephan Kiesslinger, born in the burgh of Antwerp, +son of a wharfinger in that town.</p> + +<p>When Nello recovered his consciousness he was lying on the stones +without, and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him +back to life. In the distance a throng of the youths of Antwerp were +shouting around their successful comrade, and escorting him with +acclamations to his home upon the quay.</p> + +<p>The boy staggered to his feet and drew the dog into his embrace. "It is +all over, dear Patrasche," he murmured,—"all over!"</p> + +<p>He rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and +retraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his +head drooping and his old limbs feeble from hunger and sorrow.</p> + +<p>The snow was falling fast: a keen hurricane blew from the north: it was +bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the +familiar path, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they +approached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent in +the snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small case of +brown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where they were +there stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under the cross: +the boy mechanically turned the case to the light: on it was the name of +Baas Cogez, and within it were notes for two thousand francs.</p> + +<p>The sight roused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his +shirt, and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. The dog looked up +wistfully in his face.</p> + +<p>Nello made straight for the mill-house, and went to the house-door and +struck on its panels. The miller's wife opened it weeping, with little +Alois clinging close to her skirts. "Is it thee, thou poor lad?" she +said kindly through her tears. "Get thee gone ere the Baas see thee. We +are in sore trouble to-night. He is out seeking for a power of money +that he has let fall riding homeward, and in this snow he never will +find it; and God knows it will go nigh to ruin us. It is Heaven's own +judgment for the things we have done to thee."</p> + +<p>Nello put the note-case in her hand and called Patrasche within the +house. "Patrasche found the money to-night," he said quickly. "Tell Baas +Cogez so; I think he will not deny the dog shelter and food in his old +age. Keep him from pursuing me, and I pray of you to be good to him."</p> + +<p>Ere either woman or dog knew what he meant he had stooped and kissed +Patrasche, then closed the door hurriedly, and disappeared in the gloom +of the fast-falling night.</p> + +<p>The woman and the child stood speechless with joy and fear: Patrasche +vainly spent the fury of his anguish against the iron-bound oak of the +barred house-door. They did not dare unbar the door and let him forth: +they tried all they could to solace him. They brought him sweet cakes +and juicy meats; they tempted him with the best they had; they tried to +lure him to abide by the warmth of the hearth; but it was of no avail. +Patrasche refused to be comforted or to stir from the barred portal.</p> + +<p>It was six o'clock when from an opposite entrance the miller at last +came, jaded and broken, into his wife's presence. "It is lost forever," +he said with an ashen cheek and a quiver in his stern voice. "We have +looked with lanterns everywhere: it is gone,—the little maiden's +portion and all!"</p> + +<p>His wife put the money into his hand, and told him how it had come to +her. The strong man sank trembling into a seat and covered his face, +ashamed and almost afraid. "I have been cruel to the lad," he muttered +at length: "I deserved not to have good at his hands."</p> + +<p>Little Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father and nestled +against him her fair curly head. "Nello may come here again, father?" +she whispered. "He may come to-morrow as he used to do?"</p> + +<p>The miller pressed her in his arms: his hard, sunburned face was very +pale, and his mouth trembled. "Surely, surely," he answered his child. +"He shall bide here on Christmas Day, and any other day he will. God +helping me, I will make amends to the boy,—I will make amends."</p> + +<p>Little Alois kissed him in gratitude and joy, then slid from his knees +and ran to where the dog kept watch by the door. "And to-night I may +feast Patrasche?" she cried in a child's thoughtless glee.</p> + +<p>Her father bent his head gravely: "Ay, ay! let the dog have the best"; +for the stern old man was moved and shaken to his heart's depths.</p> + +<p>It was Christmas Eve, and the mill-house was filled with oak logs and +squares of turf, with cream and honey, with meat and bread, and the +rafters were hung with wreaths of evergreen, and the Calvary and the +cuckoo clock looked out from a mass of holly. There were little paper +lanterns too for Alois, and toys of various fashions and sweetmeats in +bright-pictured papers. There were light and warmth and abundance +everywhere, and the child would fain have made the dog a guest honored +and feasted.</p> + +<p>But Patrasche would neither lie in the warmth nor share in the cheer. +Famished he was and very cold, but without Nello he would partake +neither of comfort nor food. Against all temptation he was proof, and +close against the door he leaned always, watching only for a means of +escape.</p> + +<p>"He wants the lad," said Baas Cogez. "Good dog! good dog! I will go over +to the lad the first thing at day-dawn." For no one but Patrasche knew +that Nello had left the hut, and no one but Patrasche divined that Nello +had gone to face starvation and misery alone.</p> + +<p>The mill-kitchen was very warm; great logs crackled and flamed on the +hearth; neighbors came in for a glass of wine and a slice of the fat +goose baking for supper. Alois, gleeful and sure of her playmate back on +the morrow, bounded and sang and tossed back her yellow hair. Baas Cogez, +in the fulness of his heart, smiled on her through moistened eyes, and +spoke of the way in which he would befriend her favorite companion; the +house-mother sat with calm, contented face at the spinning-wheel; the +cuckoo in the clock chirped mirthful hours. Amidst it all Patrasche was +bidden with a thousand words of welcome to tarry there a cherished guest. +But neither peace nor plenty could allure him where Nello was not.</p> + +<p>When the supper smoked on the board, and the voices were loudest and +gladdest, and the Christ-child brought choicest gifts to Alois, +Patrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was +unlatched by a careless new-comer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired +limbs would bear him sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He +had only one thought,—to follow Nello. A human friend might have paused +for the pleasant meal, the cheery warmth, the cosey slumber; but that +was not the friendship of Patrasche. He remembered a bygone time, when +an old man and a little child had found him sick unto death in the +wayside ditch.</p> + +<p>Snow had fallen freshly all the evening long; it was now nearly ten; the +trail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It took Patrasche +long to discover any scent. When at last he found it, it was lost again +quickly, and lost and recovered, and again lost and again recovered, a +hundred times or more.</p> + +<p>The night was very wild. The lamps under the wayside crosses were blown +out; the roads were sheets of ice; the impenetrable darkness hid every +trace of habitations; there was no living thing abroad. All the cattle +were housed, and in all the huts and homesteads men and women rejoiced +and feasted. There was only Patrasche out in the cruel cold,—old and +famished and full of pain, but with the strength and the patience of a +great love to sustain him in his search.</p> + +<p>The trail of Nello's steps, faint and obscure as it was under the new +snow, went straightly along the accustomed tracks into Antwerp. It was +past midnight when Patrasche traced it over the boundaries of the town +and into the narrow, tortuous, gloomy streets. It was all quite dark in +the town, save where some light gleamed ruddily through the crevices of +house-shutters, or some group went homeward with lanterns chanting +drinking-songs. The streets were all white with ice: the high walls and +roofs loomed black against them. There was scarce a sound save the riot +of the winds down the passages as they tossed the creaking signs and +shook the tall lamp-irons.</p> + +<p>So many passers-by had trodden through and through the snow, so many +diverse paths had crossed and recrossed each other, that the dog had a +hard task to retain any hold on the track he followed. But he kept on +his way, though the cold pierced him to the bone, and the jagged ice cut +his feet, and the hunger in his body gnawed like a rat's teeth. He kept +on his way, a poor gaunt, shivering thing, and by long patience traced +the steps he loved into the very heart of the burgh and up to the steps +of the great cathedral.</p> + +<p>"He is gone to the things that he loved," thought Patrasche: he could +not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the +art-passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred.</p> + +<p>The portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. Some +heedlessness in the custodians, too eager to go home and feast or sleep, +or too drowsy to know whether they turned the keys aright, had left one +of the doors unlocked. By that accident the footfalls Patrasche sought +had passed through into the building, leaving the white marks of snow +upon the dark stone floor. By that slender white thread, frozen as it +fell, he was guided through the intense silence, through the immensity +of the vaulted space,—guided straight to the gates of the chancel, and, +stretched there upon the stones, he found Nello. He crept up and touched +the face of the boy. "Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and +forsake thee? I—a dog?" said that mute caress.</p> + +<p>The lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. "Let us lie +down and die together," he murmured. "Men have no need of us, and we are +all alone."</p> + +<p>In answer, Patrasche crept closer yet, and laid his head upon the young +boy's breast. The great tears stood in his brown, sad eyes: not for +himself,—for himself he was happy.</p> + +<p>They lay close together in the piercing cold. The blasts that blew over +the Flemish dikes from the northern seas were like waves of ice, which +froze every living thing they touched. The interior of the immense vault +of stone in which they were was even more bitterly chill than the +snow-covered plains without. Now and then a bat moved in the +shadows,—now and then a gleam of light came on the ranks of carven +figures. Under the Rubens they lay together quite still, and soothed +almost into a dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold. +Together they dreamed of the old glad days when they had chased each +other through the flowering grasses of the summer meadows, or sat hidden +in the tall bulrushes by the water's side, watching the boats go seaward +in the sun.</p> + +<p>Suddenly through the darkness a great white radiance streamed through +the vastness of the aisles; the moon, that was at her height, had broken +through the clouds, the snow had ceased to fall, the light reflected +from the snow without was clear as the light of dawn. It fell through +the arches full upon the two pictures above, from which the boy on his +entrance had flung back the veil: the Elevation and the Descent of the +Cross were for one instant visible.</p> + +<p>Nello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them: the tears of a +passionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. "I have seen +them at last!" he cried aloud. "O God, it is enough!"</p> + +<p>His limbs failed under him, and he sank upon his knees, still gazing +upward at the majesty that he adored. For a few brief moments the light +illumined the divine visions that had been denied to him so long,—light +clear and sweet and strong as though it streamed from the throne of +Heaven. Then suddenly it passed away: once more a great darkness covered +the face of Christ.</p> + +<p>The arms of the boy drew close again the body of the dog. "We shall see +His face—<i>there</i>," he murmured; "and He will not part us, I think."</p> + +<p>On the morrow, by the chancel of the cathedral, the people of Antwerp +found them both. They were both dead: the cold of the night had frozen +into stillness alike the young life and the old. When the Christmas +morning broke and the priests came to the temple, they saw them lying +thus on the stones together. Above, the veils were drawn back from the +great visions of Rubens, and the fresh rays of the sunrise touched the +thorn-crowned head of the Christ.</p> + +<p>As the day grew on there came an old, hard-featured man who wept as +women weep. "I was cruel to the lad," he muttered, "and now I would have +made amends—yea, to the half of my substance—and he should have been +to me as a son."</p> + +<p>There came also, as the day grew apace, a painter who had fame in the +world, and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. "I seek one who should +have had the prize yesterday had worth won," he said to the people,—"a +boy of rare promise and genius. An old wood-cutter on a fallen tree at +eventide,—that was all his theme. But there was greatness for the +future in it. I would fain find him, and take him with me and teach him +Art."</p> + +<p>And a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she clung +to her father's arm, cried aloud, "O Nello, come! We have all ready for +thee. The Christ-child's hands are full of gifts, and the old piper will +play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the hearth and burn +nuts with us all the Noël week long,—yes, even to the Feast of the +Kings! And Patrasche will be so happy! O Nello, wake and come!"</p> + +<p>But the young pale face, turned upward to the light of the great Rubens +with a smile upon its mouth, answered them all, "It is too late."</p> + +<p>For the sweet, sonorous bells went ringing through the frost, and the +sunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay and +glad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked charity +at their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden.</p> + +<p>Death had been more pitiful to them than longer life would have been. It +had taken the one in the loyalty of love, and the other in the innocence +of faith, from a world which for love has no recompense and for faith no +fulfilment.</p> + +<p>All their lives they had been together, and in their deaths they were +not divided; for when they were found the arms of the boy were folded +too closely around the dog to be severed without violence, and the +people of their little village, contrite and ashamed, implored a special +grace for them, and, making them one grave, laid them to rest there side +by side—forever!</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/06.gif" alt="stop2"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story2"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/07.gif" alt="banner3"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER.</h3> +<center>BY JOHN RUSKIN.</center> +<br> +<h4>I.</h4> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter i"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/08.gif" alt="Letter I"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>n a secluded and mountainous part of Styria, there was, in old time, a +valley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was surrounded, +on all sides, by steep and rocky mountains, rising into peaks, which +were always covered with snow, and from which a number of torrents +descended in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, over the +face of a crag so high that, when the sun had set to everything else, +and all below was darkness, his beams still shone full upon this +waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was, therefore, +called by the people of the neighborhood the Golden River. It was +strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself. They all +descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound away through +broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn so +constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular +hollow, that, in time of drought and heat, when all the country round +was burnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops +were so heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its +grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it +was a marvel to every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the +Treasure Valley.</p> + +<p>The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called +Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers, +were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small, dull eyes, +which were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into <i>them</i>, and +always fancied they saw very far into <i>you</i>. They lived by farming the +Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed everything +that did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds, because they +pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they should suck the +cows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in the kitchen; +and smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the +lime-trees. They worked their servants without any wages, till they +would not work any more, and then quarrelled with them, and turned them +out of doors without paying them. It would have been very odd, if, with +such a farm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't got very rich; +and very rich they <i>did</i> get. They generally contrived to keep their +corn by them till it was very dear, and then sell it for twice its +value; they had heaps of gold lying about on their floors, yet it was +never known that they had given so much as a penny or a crust in +charity; they never went to mass; grumbled perpetually at paying tithes; +and were, in a word, of so cruel and grinding a temper, as to receive +from all those with whom they had any dealings, the nickname of the +"Black Brothers."</p> + +<p>The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both +appearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imagined +or desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, and kind +in temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agree +particularly well with his brothers, or, rather, they did not agree with +<i>him</i>. He was usually appointed to the honorable office of turnspit, +when there was anything to roast, which was not often; for, to do the +brothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon themselves than +upon other people. At other times he used to clean the shoes, the floors, +and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what was left on them, by +way of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of dry blows, by way of +education.</p> + +<p>Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wet +summer, and everything went wrong in the country round. The hay had +hardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to the +sea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the +corn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, as +usual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain nowhere else, so +it had sun when there was sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy corn +at the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black Brothers. +They asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor people, who +could only beg, and several of whom were starved at their very door, +without the slightest regard or notice.</p> + +<p>It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day the +two elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little +Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in, and +give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it was +raining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or +comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and +brown. "What a pity," thought Gluck, "my brothers never ask anybody to +dinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this, +and nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would do +their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them."</p> + +<p>Just as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house-door, yet heavy +and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up,—more like a puff than +a knock.</p> + +<p>"It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock +double knocks at our door."</p> + +<p>No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very hard, and, what was +particularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to +be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the window, +opened it, and put his head out to see who it was.</p> + +<p>It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman he had ever seen +in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his +cheeks were very round and very red, and might have warranted a +supposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the last +eight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silky +eyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each +side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt +color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in +height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude, +decorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet was +prolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration of +what is now termed a "swallow-tail," but was much obscured by the +swelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must +have been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling +round the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders to +about four times his own length.</p> + +<p>Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of his +visitor, that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the old +gentleman, having performed another and a more energetic concerto on the +knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he +caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with +its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.</p> + +<p>"Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the +door; I'm wet, let me in."</p> + +<p>To do the little gentleman justice, he <i>was</i> wet. His feather hung down +between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella; +and from the ends of his mustaches the water was running into his +waistcoat-pockets, and out again like a mill-stream.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."</p> + +<p>"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I can't let you in, sir,—I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to +death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter; +and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the +walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm myself."</p> + +<p>Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that he +began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and +saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long bright +tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory +smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should +be burning away for nothing. "He does look <i>very</i> wet," said little +Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to +the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through +the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.</p> + +<p>"That's a good boy," said the little gentleman. "Never mind your +brothers. I'll talk to them."</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay +till they come; they'd be the death of me."</p> + +<p>"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. How +long may I stay?"</p> + +<p>"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very brown."</p> + +<p>Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on +the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it was +a great deal too high for the roof.</p> + +<p>"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the +mutton. But the old gentleman did <i>not</i> dry there, but went on drip, +drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed and sputtered, and +began to look very black and uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; +every fold in it ran like a gutter.</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the water +spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter +of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Your cap, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.</p> + +<p>"But—sir—I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly; "but—really, +sir—you're putting the fire out."</p> + +<p>"It'll take longer to do the mutton then," replied his visitor dryly.</p> + +<p>Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a +strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string +meditatively for another five minutes.</p> + +<p>"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman, at length. "Can't +you give me a little bit?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.</p> + +<p>"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat +yesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the +knuckle!"</p> + +<p>He spoke in so very melancholy a tone, that it quite melted Gluck's +heart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give +you that, but not a bit more."</p> + +<p>"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.</p> + +<p>Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I do +get beaten for it," thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of +the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman +jumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm. +Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at +exactitude, and ran to open the door.</p> + +<p>"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he +walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what for, indeed, +you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an educational box on the +ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was +standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible velocity.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to +Gluck with a fierce frown.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.</p> + +<p>"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.</p> + +<p>"My dear brother," said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so <i>very</i> wet!"</p> + +<p>The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant, the +old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a +shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very +odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of +Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the +corner at the further end of the room.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.</p> + +<p>"What's your business?" snarled Hans.</p> + +<p>"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly, +"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a +quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite +enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house."</p> + +<p>"It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray +hairs." They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before.</p> + +<p>"Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"</p> + +<p>"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before +I go?"</p> + +<p>"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with +our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with you."</p> + +<p>"A little bit," said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Be off!" said Schwartz.</p> + +<p>"Pray, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had +no sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after +the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner +on the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old +gentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away +he went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the +wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.</p> + +<p>Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite +direction; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly +about him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it +could not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an +additional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfect +coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock +to-night, I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have +just experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I +ever pay you."</p> + +<p>"If ever I catch you here again," muttered Schwartz, coming, half +frightened, out of the corner,—but, before he could finish his sentence, +the old gentleman had shut the house-door behind him with a great bang; +and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of ragged cloud, +that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner of shapes; +turning over and over in the air; and melting away at last in a gush of rain.</p> + +<p>"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish the +mutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again— Bless me, why +the mutton's been cut!"</p> + +<p>"You promised me one slice, brother, you know," said Gluck.</p> + +<p>"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the +gravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the +room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call you."</p> + +<p>Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton +as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get +very drunk after dinner.</p> + +<p>Such a night as it was! Howling wind, and rushing rain, without +intermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the +shutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually +slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both +awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence +that shook the house from top to bottom.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.</p> + +<p>"Only I," said the little gentleman.</p> + +<p>The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness. +The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way +through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an +enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a cork, +on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old +gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the +roof was off.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraid +your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room; +I've left the ceiling on there."</p> + +<p>They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet +through, and in an agony of terror.</p> + +<p>"You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the old gentleman called +after them. "Remember the <i>last</i> visit."</p> + +<p>"Pray Heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little +window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and +desolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and +left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brothers +crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The water had +gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every movable thing +had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the +kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were +engraved the words:—</p> +<center><img src="images/09.gif" alt="whitecard"></center> +<br> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>Southwest Wind, Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentous +visit above related, he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what +was worse, he had so much influence with his relations, the West Winds +in general, and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similar +line of conduct. So no rain fell in the valley from one year's end to +another. Though everything remained green and flourishing in the plains +below, the inheritance of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had once +been the richest soil in the kingdom became a shifting heap of red sand; +and the brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse skies, +abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some means of +gaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. All +their money was gone, and they had nothing left but some curious, +old-fashioned pieces of gold plate, the last remnants of their +ill-gotten wealth.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we turn goldsmiths?" said Schwartz to Hans, as they entered the +large city. "It is a good knave's trade; we can put a great deal of +copper into the gold, without any one's finding it out."</p> + +<p>The thought was agreed to be a very good one; they hired a furnace, and +turned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected their trade: +the first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold; the second, +that the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, used to +leave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out the money +in the ale-house next door. So they melted all their gold, without +making money enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one large +drinking-mug, which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and which +he was very fond of, and would not have parted with for the world; +though he never drank anything out of it but milk and water. The mug was +a very odd mug to look at. The handle was formed of two wreaths of +flowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more like silk than +like metal, and these wreaths descended into, and mixed with, a beard +and whiskers, of the same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded and +decorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold imaginable, +right in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it which seemed to +command its whole circumference. It was impossible to drink out of the +mug without being subjected to an intense gaze out of the side of these +eyes; and Schwartz positively averred that once, after emptying it full +of Rhenish seventeen times, he had seen them wink! When it came to the +mug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's +heart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the +melting-pot, and staggered out to the ale-house; leaving him, as usual, +to pour the gold into bars, when it was all ready.</p> + +<p>When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in the +melting-pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing remained but the red +nose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than ever. +"And no wonder," thought Gluck, "after being treated in that way." He +sauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down to catch +the fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now +this window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains, which, as +I told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of +the peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close of +the day, and, when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the rocks of the +mountain-tops, all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there were +bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and the +river, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from +precipice to precipice, with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow +stretched across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of spray.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a little while, +"if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be!"</p> + +<p>"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice, close at his ear.</p> + +<p>"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody +there. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many +times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down +again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help +thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really +all gold.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before.</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" said Gluck again, "what <i>is</i> that?" He looked again into all +the corners and cupboards, and then began turning round and round, as +fast as he could, in the middle of the room, thinking there was somebody +behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It was singing +now very merrily "Lala-lira-la"; no words, only a soft running +effervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck +looked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house. Up stairs, +and down stairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in +quicker time and clearer notes every moment. "Lala-lira-la." All at once +it struck Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace. He ran to the +opening and looked in; yes, he saw right, it seemed to be coming, not +only out of the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it, and ran +back in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He stood in +the farthest corner of the room, with his hands up, and his mouth open, +for a minute or two, when the singing stopped, and the voice became +clear and pronunciative.</p> + +<p>"Hollo!" said the voice.</p> + +<p>Gluck made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again.</p> + +<p>Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, +drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and +its surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of its +reflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in, he saw meeting his +glance, from beneath the gold, the red nose and the sharp eyes of his +old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he +had seen them in his life.</p> + +<p>"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm all +right; pour me out."</p> + +<p>But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind.</p> + +<p>"Pour me out, I say," said the voice, rather gruffly.</p> + +<p>Still Gluck couldn't move.</p> + +<p>"<i>Will</i> you pour me out?" said the voice, passionately. "I'm too hot."</p> + +<p>By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took hold of +the crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of a +liquid stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty little yellow +legs, then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms stuck akimbo, and, +finally, the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles, +uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the +shape of a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high.</p> + +<p>"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then +his arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it +would go, for five minutes, without stopping; apparently with the view +of ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluck +stood contemplating him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a +slashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismatic +colors gleamed over it, as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over +this brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full half-way to the +ground, in waving curls, so exquisitely delicate, that Gluck could +hardly tell where they ended; they seemed to melt into air. The features +of the face, however, were by no means finished with the same delicacy; +they were rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion, +and indicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious and intractable +disposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf had finished his +self-examination, he turned his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck, and +stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't, Gluck, +my boy," said the little man.</p> + +<p>This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencing +conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of +Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations out +of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to +dispute the dictum.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed.</p> + +<p>"No," said the dwarf, conclusively. "No, it wouldn't." And with that, +the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns of +three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs very high, and +setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect +his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his +diminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his +amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.</p> + +<p>"Pray, sir," said Gluck rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?"</p> + +<p>On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck, +and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the little man, "am +the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he turned about again, and took +two more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for the +consternation which this announcement produced in his auditor to +evaporate. After which he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as +if expecting some comment on his communication.</p> + +<p>Gluck determined to say something, at all events. "I hope your Majesty +is very well," said Gluck.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite inquiry. +"I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape you +saw me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose +enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you, +and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve +you; therefore attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the top +of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and shall +cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, for him, +and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing in +his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if any one shall cast +unholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will become a +black stone." So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away, and +deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest flame of the furnace. +His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling,—a blaze of intense +light,—rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden River +had evaporated.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "O +dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!"</p> +<br> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>The King of the Golden River had hardly made his extraordinary exit +before Hans and Schwartz came roaring into the house, very savagely +drunk. The discovery of the total loss of their last piece of plate had +the effect of sobering them just enough to enable them to stand over +Gluck, beating him very steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the +expiration of which period they dropped into a couple of chairs, and +requested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them +his story, of which of course they did not believe a word. They beat him +again, till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. In the morning, +however, the steadiness with which he adhered to his story obtained him +some degree of credence; the immediate consequence of which was, that +the two brothers, after wrangling a long time on the knotty question +which of them should try his fortune first, drew their swords, and began +fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neighbors, who, finding they +could not pacify the combatants, sent for the constable.</p> + +<p>Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but +Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the peace, +and, having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was thrown into +prison till he should pay.</p> + +<p>When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to set out +immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy water, was the +question. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any holy +water to so abandoned a character. So Hans went to vespers in the +evening for the first time in his life, and, under pretence of crossing +himself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph.</p> + +<p>Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into a +strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slung +them over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off for +the mountains.</p> + +<p>On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he looked +in at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself peeping out +of the bars, and looking very disconsolate?</p> + +<p>"Good morning, brother," said Hans; "have you any message for the King +of the Golden River?"</p> + +<p>Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with all his +strength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make himself +comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket, shook the +bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it frothed again, and +marched off in the highest spirits in the world.</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, a morning that might have made any one happy, even with +no Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay stretched +along the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains,—their lower +cliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the floating +vapor, but gradually ascending till they caught the sunlight, which ran +in sharp touches of ruddy color along the angular crags, and pierced, in +long level rays, through their fringes of spear-like pine. Far above, +shot up red splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and shivered +into myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak of sunlit +snow, traced down their chasms like a line of forked lightning; and, far +beyond, and far above all these, fainter than the morning cloud, but +purer and changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the utmost peaks of the +eternal snow.</p> + +<p>The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless +elevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets of +spray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of the +cataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind.</p> + +<p>On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were fixed; +forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudent +rate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled the +first range of the green and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised, on +surmounting them, to find that a large glacier, of whose existence, +notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had been +absolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden River. +He entered on it with the boldness of a practised mountaineer; yet he +thought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier in +his life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all its chasms +came wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous or low, but changeful +and loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of wild melody, +then breaking off into short, melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks, +resembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was broken +into thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the +ordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious <i>expression</i> +about all their outlines,—a perpetual resemblance to living features, +distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows and lurid lights +played and floated about and through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling +and confusing the sight of the traveller; while his ears grew dull and +his head giddy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed waters. +These painful circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the ice +crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spires +nodded around him, and fell thundering across his path; and though he +had repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, and in +the wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling of panic +terror that he leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, exhausted and +shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain.</p> + +<p>He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became a +perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of refreshing +himself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This, +however, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited his hardy frame, +and, with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed his laborious +journey.</p> + +<p>His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare, red rocks, without a blade +of grass to ease the foot or a projecting angle to afford an inch of +shade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat intensely +upon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere was motionless, and +penetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to the bodily +fatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after glance he cast +on the flask of water which hung at his belt. "Three drops are enough," +at last thought he; "I may, at least, cool my lips with it."</p> + +<p>He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fell +on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was a +small dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its tongue +was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a swarm of +black ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye moved to the +bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, spurned the +animal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know how it was, but +he thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come across the blue sky.</p> + +<p>The path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the high hill +air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever. +The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his ears; they +were all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. Another hour +passed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side; it was half +empty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped to +open it, and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above him. +It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its breast +heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and burning. +Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud +came over the sun, and long snake-like shadows crept up along the +mountain-sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descent +seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead air pressed +upon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the cataract of +the Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely five hundred feet +above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to complete +his task.</p> + +<p>At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a +gray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his +features deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair. +"Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly,—"Water! I am +dying."</p> + +<p>"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life." He +strode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of blue +lightning rose out of the east, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice +over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable +shade. The sun was setting; it plunged toward the horizon like a red-hot ball.</p> + +<p>The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brink +of the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red +glory of the sunset: they shook their crests like tongues of fire, and +flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound came +mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy with the +prolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask from his girdle, and +hurled it into the centre of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill +shot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked, and fell. The waters +closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly into the +night, as it gushed over</p> + +<center>THE BLACK STONE.</center> +<br> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for Hans's +return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened, and +went and told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened. Then +Schwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly have +been turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold to +himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When he got up +in the morning, there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluck +went and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so hard, and +so neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got money enough together +to pay his brother's fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, and +Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased, and said he +should have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged he +would go and see what had become of Hans.</p> + +<p>Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, he +thought to himself that such a proceeding might not be considered +altogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and determined to +manage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and went +to a bad priest, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. Then +Schwartz was sure it was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early in +the morning before the sun rose, and took some bread and wine in a +basket, and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the mountains. +Like his brother, he was much surprised at the sight of the glacier, and +had great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving his basket +behind him. The day was cloudless, but not bright: a heavy purple haze +was hanging over the sky, and the hills looked lowering and gloomy. And +as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst came upon him, as it +had upon his brother, until he lifted his flask to his lips to drink. +Then he saw the fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to +him, and moaned for water.</p> + +<p>"Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and +passed on. And as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and he +saw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the west; and, when he had +climbed for another hour, the thirst overcame him again, and he would +have drunk. Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, and +heard him cry out for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't +half enough for myself," and on he went.</p> + +<p>Then again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and he looked +up, and, behold, a mist, of the color of blood, had come over the sun; +and the bank of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were +tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And they cast long +shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path.</p> + +<p>Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned; +and as he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brother +Hans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he gazed, the +figure stretched its arms to him, and cried for water. "Ha, ha," laughed +Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water, +indeed! do you suppose I carried it all the way up here for <i>you?</i>" And +he strode over the figure; yet, as he passed, he thought he saw a +strange expression of mockery about its lips. And, when he had gone a +few yards farther, he looked back; but the figure was not there.</p> + +<p>And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the thirst +for gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the bank of +black cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of spiry +lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float between their +flashes, over the whole heavens. And the sky where the sun was setting +was all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong wind came out of +that sky, tearing its crimson clouds into fragments, and scattering them +far into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the brink of the +Golden River, its waves were black like thunderclouds, but their foam +was like fire; and the roar of the waters below and the thunder above +met, as he cast the flask into the stream. And, as he did so, the +lightning glared in his eyes, and the earth gave way beneath him, and +the waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly +into the night, as it gushed over the</p> + +<center>TWO BLACK STONES.</center> +<br> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<p>When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very sorry, and +did not know what to do. He had no money, and was obliged to go and hire +himself again to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and gave him +very little money. So, after a month or two, Gluck grew tired, and made +up his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden River. "The little +king looked very kind," thought he. "I don't think he will turn me into +a black stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him some +holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some bread in his +basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early for the +mountains.</p> + +<p>If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers, +it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so +practised on the mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his +basket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises +under the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had got +over, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the day. +When he had climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and was +going to drink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming down the +path above him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff. "My son," +said the old man, "I am faint with thirst; give me some of that water." +Then Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he +gave him the water; "Only pray don't drink it all," said Gluck. But the +old man drank a great deal, and gave him back the bottle two thirds +empty. Then he bade him good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And +the path became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass +appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank beside +it; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing.</p> + +<p>Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him so +that he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised the +flask, he saw a little child lying panting by the roadside, and it cried +out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself and +determined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle to +the child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled on +him, and got up, and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it, till +it became as small as a little star, and then turned, and began climbing +again. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on the +rocks, bright green moss, with pale pink starry flowers, and soft-belled +gentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure white +transparent lilies. And crimson and purple butterflies darted hither and +thither, and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never felt +so happy in his life.</p> + +<p>Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became intolerable +again; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were only +five or six drops left in it, and he could not venture to drink. And as +he was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a little dog lying on +the rocks, gasping for breath,—just as Hans had seen it on the day of +his ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the Golden +River, not five hundred yards above him; and he thought of the dwarf's +words, "that no one could succeed, except in his first attempt"; and he +tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and Gluck stopped again. +"Poor beastie," said Gluck, "it'll be dead when I come down again, if I +don't help it." Then he looked closer and closer at it, and its eye +turned on him so mournfully that he could not stand it. "Confound the +King and his gold too," said Gluck; and he opened the flask, and poured +all the water into the dog's mouth.</p> + +<p>The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared, its +ears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red, its +eyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, and +before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the monarch; "but don't be frightened, it's all +right"; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at this +unlooked-for reply to his last observation. "Why didn't you come +before," continued the dwarf, "instead of sending me those rascally +brothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones? +Very hard stones they make, too."</p> + +<p>"O dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?"</p> + +<p>"Cruel," said the dwarf, "they poured unholy water into my stream; do +you suppose I'm going to allow that?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir,—your Majesty, I mean,—they got the +water out of the church font."</p> + +<p>"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," and his countenance grew +stern as he spoke, "the water which has been refused to the cry of the +weary and dying is unholy, though it had been blessed by every saint in +heaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, +though it had been defiled with corpses."</p> + +<p>So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet. +On its white leaves hung three drops of clear dew. And the dwarf shook +them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these into the +river," he said, "and descend on the other side of the mountains into +the Treasure Valley. And so good speed."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The playing +colors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy +light; he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of a +broad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the mist rose into the air; the +monarch had evaporated.</p> + +<p>And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were +as clear as crystal and as brilliant as the sun. And when he cast the +three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell, a +small circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a musical +noise.</p> + +<p>Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed, because +not only the river was not turned into gold, but its waters seemed much +diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and +descended the other side of the mountains, toward the Treasure Valley; +and, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water working its way +under the ground. And when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley, +behold, a river, like the Golden River, was springing from a new cleft +of the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable streams among the +dry heaps of red sand.</p> + +<p>And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, and +creeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil. Young +flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out when +twilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine, +cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus the +Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, which had +been lost by cruelty, was regained by love.</p> + +<p>And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven +from his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of +treasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the dwarf's promise, +become a River of Gold.</p> + +<p>And to this day the inhabitants of the valley point out the place where +the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and trace the +course of the Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in the +Treasure Valley. And, at the top of the cataract of the Golden River, +are still to be seen two <small>BLACK STONES</small>, round which the waters howl +mournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called, by +the people of the valley,</p> + +<center>THE BLACK BROTHERS.</center> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/10.gif" alt="stop3"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story3"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/11.gif" alt="banner4"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE LADY OF SHALOTT.</h3> +<center>BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter i"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/12.gif" alt="Letter I"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>t is not generally known that the Lady of Shalott lived last summer in +an attic, at the east end of South Street.</p> + +<p>The wee-est, thinnest, whitest little lady! And yet the brightest, +stillest, and withal such a smiling little lady!</p> + +<p>If you had held her up by the window,—for she could not hold up +herself,—she would have hung like a porcelain transparency in your +hands. And if you had said, laying her gently down, and giving the tears +a smart dash, that they should not fall on her lifted face, "Poor +child!" the Lady of Shalott would have said, "O, don't!" and smiled. And +you would have smiled yourself, for very surprise that she should outdo +you; and between the two there would have been so much smiling done that +one would have fairly thought it was a delightful thing to live last +summer in an attic at the east end of South Street.</p> + +<p>This perhaps was the more natural in the Lady of Shalott because she had +never lived anywhere else.</p> + +<p>When the Lady of Shalott was five years old, her mother threw her down +stairs one day, by mistake, instead of the whiskey-jug.</p> + +<p>This is a fact which I think Mr. Tennyson has omitted to mention in his +poem.</p> + +<p>They picked up the Lady of Shalott and put her on the bed; and there she +lay from that day until last summer, unless, as I said, somebody had +occasion to use her for a transparency.</p> + +<p>The mother and the jug both went down the stairs together a few years +after, and never came up at all,—and that was a great convenience, for +the Lady of Shalott's palace in the attic was not large, and they took +up much unnecessary room.</p> + +<p>Since that the Lady of Shalott had lived with her sister, Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>Sary Jane made nankeen vests, at sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen.</p> + +<p>Sary Jane had red hair, and crooked shoulders, and a voice so much like +a rat-trap which she sometimes set on the stairs that the Lady of +Shalott could seldom tell which was which until she had thought about it +a little while. When there was a rat caught, she was apt to ask "What?" +and when Sary Jane spoke, she more often than not said, "There's another!"</p> + +<p>Her crooked shoulders Sary Jane had acquired from sitting under the +eaves of the palace to sew. That physiological problem was simple. There +was not room enough under the eaves to sit straight.</p> + +<p>Sary Jane's red hair was the result of sitting in the sun on July noons +under those eaves, to see to thread her needle. There was no question +about that. The Lady of Shalott had settled it in her own mind, past +dispute. Sary Jane's hair had been—what was it? brown? once. Sary Jane +was slowly taking fire. Who would not, to sit in the sun in that palace? +The only matter of surprise to the Lady of Shalott was that the palace +itself did not smoke. Sometimes, when Sary Jane hit the rafters, she was +sure that she saw sparks.</p> + +<p>As for Sary Jane's voice, when one knew that she made nankeen vests at +sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen, that was a matter of no +surprise. It never surprised the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>But Sary Jane was very cross; there was no denying that; very cross.</p> + +<p>And the palace. Let me tell you about the palace. It measured just +twelve by nine feet. It would have been seven feet post,—if there had +been a post in the middle of it. From the centre it sloped away to the +windows, where Sary Jane had just room enough to sit crooked under the +eaves at work. There were two windows and a loose scuttle to let in the +snow in winter and the sun in summer, and the rain and wind at all times. +It was quite a diversion to the Lady of Shalott to see how many +different ways of doing a disagreeable thing seemed to be practicable to +that scuttle. Besides the bed on which the Lady of Shalott lay, there +was a stove in the palace, two chairs, a very ragged rag-mat, a shelf +with two notched cups and plates upon it, one pewter teaspoon, and a +looking-glass. On washing-days Sary Jane climbed upon the chair and hung +her clothes out through the scuttle on the roof; or else she ran a +little rope from one of the windows to the other for a drying-rope. It +would have been more exact to have said on washing-nights; for Sary Jane +always did her washing after dark. The reason was evident. If the rest +of us were in the habit of wearing all the clothes we had, like Sary +Jane, I have little doubt that we should do the same.</p> + +<p>I should mention that there was no sink in the Lady of Shalott's palace; +no water. There was a dirty hydrant in the yard, four flights below, +which supplied the Lady of Shalott and all her neighbors. The Lady of +Shalott kept her coal under the bed; her flour, a pound at a time, in a +paper parcel, on the shelf, with the teacups and the pewter spoon. If +she had anything else to keep, it went out through the palace scuttle +and lay on the roof. The Lady of Shalott's palace opened directly upon a +precipice. The lessor of the house called it a flight of stairs. When +Sary Jane went up and down she went sidewise to preserve her balance. +There were no bannisters to the precipice, and about once a week a baby +patronized the rat-trap, instead. Once, when there was a fire-alarm, the +precipice was very serviceable. Four women and an old man went over. +With one exception (she was eighteen, and could bear a broken +collar-bone), they will not, I am informed, go over again.</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott paid one dollar a week for the rent of her palace.</p> + +<p>But then there was a looking-glass in the palace. I think I noticed it. +It hung on the slope of the rafters, just opposite the Lady of Shalott's +window,—for she considered that her window at which Sary Jane did not +make nankeen vests at sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen.</p> + +<p>Now, because the looking-glass was opposite the window at which Sary +Jane did <i>not</i> make vests, and because the rafters sloped, and because +the bed lay almost between the looking-glass and the window, the Lady of +Shalott was happy. And because, to the patient heart that is a seeker +after happiness, "the little more, and how much it is!" (and the little +less, what worlds away!) the Lady of Shalott was proud as well as happy. +The looking-glass measured in inches 10 X 6. I think that the Lady of +Shalott would have experienced rather a touch of mortification than of +envy if she had known that there was a mirror in a house just round the +corner measuring almost as many feet. But that was one of the advantages +of being the Lady of Shalott. She never parsed life in the comparative degree.</p> + +<p>I suppose that one must be the Lady of Shalott to understand what +comfort there may be in a 10 X 6 inch looking-glass. All the world came +for the Lady of Shalott into her looking-glass,—the joy of it, the +anguish of it, the hope and fear of it, the health and hurt,—10 X 6 +inches of it exactly.</p> + +<p>"It is next best to not having been thrown down stairs yourself!" said +the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, it sometimes occurred to her that there was a +monotony about the world. A garret window like her own, for instance, +would fill her sight if she did not tip the glass a little. Children sat +in it, and did not play. They made lean faces at her. They were locked +in for the day and were hungry. She could not help knowing how hungry +they were, and so tipped the glass. Then there was the trap-door in the +sidewalk. She became occasionally tired of that trap-door. Seven people +lived under the sidewalk; and when they lifted and slammed the trap, +coming in and out, they reminded her of something which Sary Jane bought +her once, when she was a very little child, at Christmas time,—long ago, +when rents were cheaper and flour low. It was a monkey, with whiskers +and a calico jacket, who jumped out of a box when the cover was lifted; +and then you crushed him down and hasped him in. Sometimes she wished +that she had never had that monkey, he was so much like the people +coming in and out of the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>In fact, there was a monotony about all the people in the Lady of +Shalott's looking-glass. If their faces were not dirty, their hands were. +If they had hats, they went without shoes. If they did not sit in the +sun with their heads on their knees, they lay in the mud with their +heads on a jug.</p> + +<p>"Their faces look blue!" she said to Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"No wonder!" snapped Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>"Wonder is we ain't all dead!" barked Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>The people in the Lady of Shalott's glass died, however, +sometimes,—often in the summer; more often last summer, when the attic +smoked continually, and she mistook Sary Jane's voice for the rat-trap +every day.</p> + +<p>The people were jostled into pine boxes (in the glass), and carried away +(in the glass) by twilight, in a cart. Three of the monkeys from the +spring-box in the sidewalk went, in one week, out into the foul, purple +twilight, away from the looking-glass, in carts.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that, poor things!" said the Lady of Shalott, for she had +always felt a kind of sorrow for the monkeys. Principally, I think, +because they had no glass.</p> + +<p>When the monkeys had gone, the sickly twilight folded itself up, over +the spring-box, into great feathers, like the feathers of a wing. That +was pleasant. The Lady of Shalott could almost put out her fingers and +stroke it, it hung so near, and was so clear, and gathered such a +peacefulness into the looking-glass.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear, it's very pleasant," said the Lady of Shalott. Sary +Jane said it was very dangerous, the Lord knew, and bit her threads off.</p> + +<p>"And, Sary Jane, dear!" added the Lady of Shalott, "I see so many other +pleasant things."</p> + +<p>"The more fool you!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>But she wondered about it that day over her tenth nankeen vest. What, +for example, <i>could</i> the Lady of Shalott see?</p> + +<p>"Waves!" said the Lady of Shalott, suddenly, as if she had been asked +the question. Sary Jane jumped. She said, "Nonsense!" For the Lady of +Shalott had only seen the little wash-tub full of dingy water on Sunday +nights, and the dirty little hydrant (in the glass) spouting dingy jets. +She would not have known a wave if she had seen it.</p> + +<p>"But I see waves," said the Lady of Shalott. She felt sure of it. They +ran up and down across the glass. They had green faces and gray hair. +They threw back their hands, like cool people resting, and it seemed +unaccountable, at the east end of South Street last summer, that +anything, anywhere, if only a wave in a looking-glass, could be cool or +at rest. Besides this, they kept their faces clean. Therefore the Lady +of Shalott took pleasure in watching them run up and down across the +glass. That a thing could be clean, and green, and white, was only less +a wonder than cool and rest last summer in South Street.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear," said the Lady of Shalott, one day, "how hot <i>is</i> it +up here?"</p> + +<p>"Hot as Hell!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was a little warm," said the Lady of Shalott. "Sary Jane, +dear, isn't the yard down there a little—dirty?"</p> + +<p>Sary Jane put down her needle, and looked out of the blazing, blindless +window. It had always been a subject of satisfaction to Sary Jane, +somewhere down below her lean shoulders and in the very teeth of the +rat-trap, that the Lady of Shalott could not see out of that window. So +she winked at the window, as if she would caution it to hold its burning +tongue, and said never a word.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear," said the Lady of Shalott, once more, "had you ever +thought that perhaps I was a little—weaker—than I was—once?"</p> + +<p>"I guess you can stand it if I can!" said the rat-trap.</p> + +<p>"O, yes, dear," said the Lady of Shalott. "I can stand it if you can."</p> + +<p>"Well, then!" said Sary Jane. But she sat and winked at the bald window, +and the window held its burning tongue.</p> + +<p>It grew hot in South Street. It grew very hot in South Street. The lean +children in the attic opposite fell sick, and sat no longer in the +window making faces, in the Lady of Shalott's glass.</p> + +<p>Two more monkeys from the spring-box were carried away one ugly twilight +in a cart. The purple wing that hung over the spring-box lifted to let +them pass; and then fell, as if it had brushed them away.</p> + +<p>"It has such a soft color!" said the Lady of Shalott, smiling.</p> + +<p>"So has nightshade!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>One day a beautiful thing happened. One can scarcely understand how a +beautiful thing <i>could</i> happen at the east end of South Street. The Lady +of Shalott herself did not entirely understand.</p> + +<p>"It is all the glass," she said.</p> + +<p>She was lying very still when she said it. She had folded her hands, +which were hot, to keep them quiet too. She had closed her eyes, which +ached, to close away the glare of the noon. At once she opened them, and +said:—</p> + +<p>"It is the glass."</p> + +<p>Sary Jane stood in the glass. Now Sary Jane, she well knew, was not in +the room that noon. She had gone out to see what she could find for +dinner. She had five cents to spend on dinner. Yet Sary Jane stood in +the glass. And in the glass, ah! what a beautiful thing!</p> + +<p>"Flowers!" cried the Lady of Shalott aloud. But she had never seen +flowers. But neither had she seen waves. So she said, "They come as the +waves come." And knew them, and lay smiling. Ah! what a beautiful, +beautiful thing!</p> + +<p>Sary Jane's hair was fiery and tumbled (in the glass), as if she had +walked fast and far. Sary Jane (in the glass) was winking, as she had +winked at the blazing window; as if she said to what she held in her +arms, Don't tell! And in her arms (in the glass), where the waves +were—oh! beautiful, beautiful! The Lady of Shalott lay whispering: +"Beautiful, beautiful!" She did not know what else to do. She dared not +stir. Sary Jane's lean arms (in the glass) were full of silver bells; +they hung out of a soft green shadow, like a church tower; they nodded +to and fro; when they shook, they shook out sweetness.</p> + +<p>"Will they ring?" asked the Lady of Shalott of the little glass.</p> + +<p>I doubt, in my own mind, if you or I, being in South Street, and seeing +a lily of the valley (in a 10 X 6 inch looking-glass) for the very first +time, would have asked so sensible a question.</p> + +<p>"Try 'em and see," said the looking-glass. Was it the looking-glass? Or +the rat-trap? Or was it—</p> + +<p>O, the beautiful thing! That the glass should have nothing to do with it, +after all! That Sary Jane, in flesh and blood, and tumbled hair, and +trembling, lean arms, should stand and shake an armful of church towers +and silver bells down into the Lady of Shalott's little puzzled face and +burning hands!</p> + +<p>And that the Lady of Shalott should think that she must have got into +the glass herself, by a blunder,—as the only explanation possible of +such a beautiful thing!</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't glass-dreams," said Sary Jane, winking at the church +towers, where they made a solemn, green shadow against the Lady of +Shalott's bent cheek. "Smell 'em and see. You can 'most stand the yard +with them round. Smell 'em and see! It ain't the glass; it's the Flower +Charity."</p> + +<p>"The what?" asked the Lady of Shalott slowly.</p> + +<p>"The Flower Charity."</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott. But she said nothing more.</p> + +<p>She laid her cheek over into the shadow of the green church towers. "And +there'll be more," said Sary Jane, hunting for her wax. "There'll be +more, whenever I can call for 'em,—bless it!"</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott again.</p> + +<p>"But I only got a lemon for dinner," said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless it!" said the Lady of Shalott, with her face hidden under +the church towers. But I don't think that she meant the lemon, though +Sary Jane did.</p> + +<p>"They <i>do</i> ring," said the Lady of Shalott by and by. She drew the tip +of her thin fingers across the tip of the tiny bells. "I thought they +would."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Sary Jane, squeezing her lemon under her work-box. "I +never see your beat for glass-dreams. What do they say? Come, now!"</p> + +<p>Now the Lady of Shalott knew very well what they said. Very well! But +she only drew the tips of her poor fingers over the tips of the silver +bells. Clever mind! It was not necessary to tell Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>But it grew hot in South Street. It grew very hot in South Street. Even +the Flower Charity (bless it!) could not sweeten the dreadfulness of +that yard. Even the purple wing above the spring-box fell heavily upon +the Lady of Shalott's strained eyes, across the glass. Even the +gray-haired waves ceased running up and down and throwing back their +hands before her; they sat still, in heaps upon a blistering beach, and +gasped for breath. The Lady of Shalott herself gasped sometimes, in +watching them.</p> + +<p>One day she said: "There's a man in them."</p> + +<p>"A <i>what</i> in <i>which?</i>" buzzed Sary Jane. "Oh! There's a man across the +yard, I suppose you mean. Among them young ones, yonder. I wish he'd +stop 'em throwing stones, plague on 'em! See him, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see the children," said the Lady of Shalott, a little troubled. +Her glass had shown her so many things strangely since the days grew hot. +"But I see a man, and he walks upon the waves. See, see!"</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott tried to pull herself up upon the elbow of her +calico night-dress, to see.</p> + +<p>"That's one of them Hospital doctors," said Sary Jane, looking out of +the blazing window. "I've seen him round before. Don't know what +business he's got down here; but I've seen him. He's talkin' to them +boys now, about the stones. There! He'd better! If they don't look out, +they'll hit—"</p> + +<p>"<i>O, the glass! the glass!</i>"</p> + +<p>The Hospital doctor stood still; so did Sary Jane, half risen from her +chair; so did the very South Street boys, gaping in the gutter, with +their hands full of stones, such a cry rang out from the palace window.</p> + +<p>"<i>O, the glass! the glass! the glass!</i>"</p> + +<p>In a twinkling the South Street boys were at the mercy of the South +Street police; and the Hospital doctor, bounding over a beachful of +shattered, scattered waves, stood, out of breath, beside the Lady of +Shalott's bed.</p> + +<p>"O the little less, and what worlds away!"</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott lay quite still in her little brown calico +night-gown [I cannot learn, by the way, that Bulfinch's studious and in +general trustworthy researches have put him in possession of this point. +Indeed, I feel justified in asserting that Mr. Bulfinch never so much as +<i>intimated</i> that the Lady of Shalott wore a brown calico +night-dress]—the Lady of Shalott lay quite still, and her lips turned +blue.</p> + +<p>"Are you very much hurt? Where were you struck? I heard the cry, and +came. Can you tell me where the blow was?"</p> + +<p>But then the doctor saw the glass, broken and blown in a thousand +glittering sparks across the palace floor; and then the Lady of Shalott +gave him a little blue smile.</p> + +<p>"It's not me. Never mind. I wish it was. I'd rather it was me than the +glass. O, my glass! my glass! But never mind. I suppose there'll be some +other—pleasant thing."</p> + +<p>"Were you so fond of the glass?" asked the doctor, taking one of the two +chairs that Sary Jane brought him, and looking sorrowfully about the +room. What other "pleasant thing" could even the Lady of Shalott +discover in that room last summer, at the east end of South Street?</p> + +<p>"How long have you lain here?" asked the sorrowful doctor, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Since I can remember, sir," said the Lady of Shalott, with that blue +smile. "But then I have always had my glass."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the doctor, "the Lady of Shalott!"</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>"Where is the pain?" asked the doctor, gently, with his finger on the +Lady of Shalott's pulse.</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott touched the shoulder of her brown calico night-dress, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"And what did you see in your glass?" asked the doctor, once more +stooping to examine "the pain."</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott tried to tell him, but felt confused; so many +strange things had been in the glass since it grew hot. So she only said +that there were waves and a purple wing, and that they were broken now, +and lay upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"Purple wings?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Over the sidewalk," nodded the Lady of Shalott. "It comes up at night."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the doctor, "the malaria. No wonder!"</p> + +<p>"And what about the waves?" asked the doctor, talking while he touched +and tried the little brown calico shoulders. "I have a little girl of my +own down by the waves this summer. She—I suppose she is no older than +you!"</p> + +<p>"I am seventeen, sir," said the Lady of Shalott. "Do they have green +faces and white hair? Does she see them run up and down? I never saw any +waves, sir, but those in my glass. I am very glad to know that your +little girl is by the waves."</p> + +<p>"Where you ought to be," said the doctor, half under his breath. "It is +cruel, cruel!"</p> + +<p>"What is cruel?" asked the Lady of Shalott, looking up into the doctor's +face.</p> + +<p>The little brown calico night-dress swam suddenly before the doctor's +eyes. He got up and walked across the floor. As he walked he stepped +upon the pieces of the broken glass.</p> + +<p>"O, don't!" cried the Lady of Shalott. But then she thought that perhaps +she had hurt the doctor's feelings; so she smiled, and said, "Never mind."</p> + +<p>"Her case could be cured," said the doctor, still under his breath, to +Sary Jane. "The case could be cured yet. It is cruel!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sary Jane,—she lifted her sharp face sharply out of billows +of nankeen vests,—"it may be because I make vests at sixteen and three +quarters cents a dozen, sir; but I say before God there's something +cruel somewheres. Look at her. Look at me. Look at them stairs. Just see +that scuttle, will you? Just feel the sun in't these windows. Look at +the rent we pay for this 'ere oven. What do you s'pose the meriky is up +here? Look at them pisen fogs arisen' out over the sidewalk. Look at the +dead as have died in the Devil in this street this week. Then look out here!"</p> + +<p>Sary Jane drew the doctor to the blazing, blindless window, out of which +the Lady of Shalott had never looked.</p> + +<p>"Now talk of curin' her!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>The doctor turned away from the window, with a sudden white face.</p> + +<p>"The Board of Health—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me about the Board of Health!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"I'll talk to them," said the doctor. "I did not know matters were so +bad. They shall be attended to directly. To-morrow I leave town—" He +stopped, looking down at the Lady of Shalott, thinking of the little +lady by the waves, whom he would see to-morrow, hardly knowing what to +say. "But something shall be done at once. Meantime, there's the Hospital."</p> + +<p>"She tried Horspital long ago," said Sary Jane. "They said they couldn't +do nothing. What's the use? Don't bother her. Let her be."</p> + +<p>"Yes, let me be," said the Lady of Shalott, faintly. "The glass is broken."</p> + +<p>"But something must be done!" urged the doctor, hurrying away. "I will +attend to the matter directly."</p> + +<p>He spoke in a busy doctor's busy way. Undoubtedly he thought that he +should attend to the matter directly.</p> + +<p>"You have flowers here, I see." He lifted, in hurrying away, a spray of +lilies that lay upon the bed, freshly sent to the Lady of Shalott that morning.</p> + +<p>"They ring," said the Lady of Shalott, softly. "Can you hear? +'Bless—it! Bless—it!' Ah, yes, they ring!"</p> + +<p>"Bless what?" asked the doctor, half out of the door.</p> + +<p>"The Flower Charity," said the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said the doctor. "But I'll attend to it directly." And he was +quite out of the door, and the door was shut.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott, a few minutes after the +door was shut.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Sary Jane.</p> + +<p>"The glass is broken," said the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>"Should think I might know that!" said Sary Jane, who was down upon her +knees, sweeping shining pieces away into a pasteboard dust-pan.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott again.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" echoed Sary Jane, tossing purple feathers out of the +window and seeming, to the eyes of the Lady of Shalott, to have the +spray of green waves upon her hands. "There they go!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there they go," said the Lady of Shalott. But she said no more +till night.</p> + +<p>It was a hot night for South Street. It was a very hot night for even +South Street. The lean children in the attic opposite cried savagely, +like lean cubs. The monkeys from the spring-box came out and sat upon +the lid for air. Dirty people lay around the dirty hydrant; and the +purple wing stretched itself a little in a quiet way, to cover them.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear?" said the Lady of Shalott, at night. "The glass is +broken. And, Sary Jane, dear, I am afraid I <i>can't</i> stand it as well as +you can."</p> + +<p>Sary Jane gave the Lady of Shalott a sharp look, and put away her +nankeen vests. She came to the bed.</p> + +<p>"It isn't time to stop sewing, is it?" asked the Lady of Shalott, in +faint surprise. Sary Jane only gave her sharp looks, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! That man will be back again yet. He'll look after ye, maybe. +Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Lady of Shalott, "he will come back again. But my glass +is broken."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Sary Jane. But she did not go back to her sewing. She +sat down on the edge of the bed, by the Lady of Shalott; and it grew +dark.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they'll do something about the yards; who knows?" said Sary +Jane through the growing dark.</p> + +<p>"But my glass is broken," said the Lady of Shalott.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott, when it had grown quite, +quite dark. "He is walking on the waves."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Sary Jane. For it was quite, quite dark.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott. "Not that man. But there +<i>is</i> a man, and he is walking on the waves."</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott raised herself upon her little calico night-dress +sleeve. She looked at the wall where the 10 X 6 inch looking-glass had +hung.</p> + +<p>"Sary Jane, dear!" said the Lady of Shalott. "I am glad that girl is +down by the waves. I am very glad. But the glass is broken."</p> + +<p>Two days after, the Board of Health at the foot of the precipice, which +the lessor called a flight of stairs, which led into the Lady of +Shalott's palace, were met and stopped by another board.</p> + +<p>"<i>This</i> one's got the right of way, gentlemen!" said something at the +brink of the precipice, which sounded so much like a rat-trap that the +Board of Health looked down by instinct at its individual and collective +feet to see if they were in danger, and dared not by instinct stir a +step.</p> + +<p>The board which had the right of way was a pine board, and the Lady of +Shalott lay on it, in her little brown calico night-dress, with Sary +Jane's old shawl across her feet. The Flower Charity (Heaven bless it!) +had half covered the old shawl with silver bells, and solemn green +shadows, like the shadows of church towers. And it was a comfort to know +that these were the only bells which tolled for the Lady of Shalott, and +that no other church shadow fell upon her burial.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said the Hospital doctor, "we're too late, I see. But you'd +better go on."</p> + +<p>The gentlemen of the Board of Health went on; and the Lady of Shalott +went on.</p> + +<p>The Lady of Shalott went out into the cart that had carried away the +monkeys from the spring-box, and the purple wing lifted to let her pass; +and fell again, as if it had brushed her away.</p> + +<p>The Board of Health went up the precipice, and stood by the window out +of which the Lady of Shalott had never looked.</p> + +<p>They sent orders to the scavenger, and orders to the Water Board, and +how many other orders nobody knows; and they sprinkled themselves with +camphor, and they went their ways.</p> + +<p>And the board that had the right of way went its way, too. And Sary Jane +folded up the shawl, which she could not afford to lose, and came home, +and made nankeen vests at sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen in +the window out of which the Lady of Shalott had never looked.</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/10.gif" alt="stop4"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story4"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/14.gif" alt="banner5"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>MARJORIE FLEMING.</h3> +<center>BY JOHN BROWN, M.D.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter o"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/15.gif" alt="Letter O"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>ne November afternoon in 1810,—the year in which "Waverley" was +resumed and laid aside again, to be finished off, its last two volumes +in three weeks, and made immortal in 1814, and when its author, by the +death of Lord Melville, narrowly escaped getting a civil appointment in +India,—three men, evidently lawyers, might have been seen escaping like +school-boys from the Parliament House, and speeding arm in arm down Bank +Street and the Mound, in the teeth of a surly blast of sleet.</p> + +<p>The three friends sought the <i>bield</i> of the low wall old Edinburgh boys +remember well, and sometimes miss now, as they struggle with the stout +west-wind.</p> + +<p>The three were curiously unlike each other. One, "a little man of feeble +make, who would be unhappy if his pony got beyond a foot pace," slight, +with "small, elegant features, hectic cheek, and soft hazel eyes, the +index of the quick, sensitive spirit within, as if he had the warm heart +of a woman, her genuine enthusiasm, and some of her weaknesses." Another, +as unlike a woman as a man can be; homely, almost common, in look and +figure; his hat and his coat, and indeed his entire covering, worn to +the quick, but all of the best material; what redeemed him from +vulgarity and meanness were his eyes, deep set, heavily thatched, keen, +hungry, shrewd, with a slumbering glow far in, as if they could be +dangerous; a man to care nothing for at first glance, but, somehow, to +give a second and not-forgetting look at. The third was the biggest of +the three, and though lame, nimble, and all rough and alive with power; +had you met him anywhere else, you would say he was a Liddesdale +store-farmer, come of gentle blood; "a stout, blunt carle," as he says +of himself, with the swing and stride and the eye of a man of the +hills,—a large, sunny, out-of-door air all about him. On his broad and +somewhat stooping shoulders was set that head which, with Shakespeare's +and Bonaparte's, is the best known in all the world.</p> + +<p>He was in high spirits, keeping his companions and himself in roars of +laughter, and every now and then seizing them, and stopping, that they +might take their fill of the fun; there they stood shaking with laughter, +"not an inch of their body free" from its grip. At George Street they +parted, one to Rose Court, behind St. Andrew's Church, one to Albany +Street, the other, our big and limping friend, to Castle Street.</p> + +<p>We need hardly give their names. The first was William Erskine, +afterwards Lord Kinnedder, chased out of the world by a calumny, killed +by its foul breath,—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem1"> + <tr><td><small>"And at the touch of wrong, without a strife,<br> + Slipped in a moment out of life."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>There is nothing in literature more beautiful or more pathetic than +Scott's love and sorrow for this friend of his youth.</p> + +<p>The second was William Clerk,—the <i>Darsie Latimer</i> of "Redgauntlet"; "a +man," as Scott says, "of the most acute intellects and powerful +apprehension," but of more powerful indolence, so as to leave the world +with little more than the report of what he might have been,—a humorist +as genuine, though not quite so savagely Swiftian as his brother Lord +Eldon, neither of whom had much of that commonest and best of all the +humors, called good.</p> + +<p>The third we all know. What has he not done for every one of us? Who else +ever, except Shakespeare, so diverted mankind, entertained and +entertains a world so liberally, so wholesomely? We are fain to say, not +even Shakespeare, for his is something deeper than diversion, something +higher than pleasure, and yet who would care to split this hair?</p> + +<p>Had any one watched him closely before and after the parting, what a +change he would see! The bright, broad laugh, the shrewd, jovial word, +the man of the Parliament House and of the world, and, next step, moody, +the light of his eye withdrawn, as if seeing things that were invisible; +his shut mouth, like a child's, so impressionable, so innocent, so sad: +he was now all within, as before he was all without; hence his brooding +look. As the snow blattered in his face, he muttered, "How it raves and +drifts! On-ding o' snaw,—ay, that's the word,—on-ding—" He was now at +his own door, "Castle Street, No. 39." He opened the door, and went +straight to his den; that wondrous workshop, where, in one year, 1823, +when he was fifty-two, he wrote "Peveril of the Peak," "Quentin +Durward," and "St. Ronan's Well," besides much else. We once took the +foremost of our novelists, the greatest, we would say, since Scott, into +this room, and could not but mark the solemnizing effect of sitting +where the great magician sat so often and so long, and looking out upon +that little shabby bit of sky, and that back green where faithful Camp +lies.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></p> + +<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> This favorite dog "died about January, 1809, and was buried, +in a fine moonlight night, in the little garden behind the house in +Castle Street. My wife tells me she remembers the whole family in tears +about the grave, as her father himself smoothed the turf above Camp with +the saddest face she had ever seen. He had been engaged to dine abroad +that day, but apologized on account of the death of 'a dear old +friend.'"—<i>Lockhart's Life of Scott</i>.</small></blockquote> + +<p>He sat down in his large, green morocco elbow-chair, drew himself close +to his table, and glowered and gloomed at his writing apparatus, "a very +handsome old box, richly carved, lined with crimson velvet, and +containing ink-bottles, taper-stand, etc., in silver, the whole in such +order that it might have come from the silversmith's window half an hour +before." He took out his paper, then, starting up angrily, said, "'Go +spin, you jade, go spin.' No, d—— it, it won't do:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem2"> + <tr><td><small>'My spinnin'-wheel is auld and stiff;<br> + The rock o't wunna stand, sir;<br> + To keep the temper-pin in tiff<br> + Employs ower aft my hand, sir.'</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>I am off the fang.<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> I can make nothing of 'Waverley' to-day; I'll awa' +to Marjorie. Come wi' me, Maida, you thief." The great creature rose +slowly, and the pair were off, Scott taking a <i>maud</i> (a plaid) with him. +"White as a frosted plum-cake, by jingo!" said he, when he got to the +street. Maida gambolled and whisked among the snow; and her master +strode across to Young Street, and through it to 1 North Charlotte +Street, to the house of his dear friend, Mrs. William Keith of +Corstorphine Hill, niece of Mrs. Keith of Ravelston, of whom he said at +her death, eight years after, "Much tradition, and that of the best, has +died with this excellent old lady, one of the few persons whose spirits +and <i>cleanliness</i> and freshness of mind and body made old age lovely and +desirable."</p> + +<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Applied to a pump when it is dry and its valve has lost its +"fang."</small></blockquote> + +<p>Sir Walter was in that house almost every day, and had a key, so in he +and the hound went, shaking themselves in the lobby. "Marjorie! +Marjorie!" shouted her friend, "where are ye, my bonnie wee croodlin +doo?" In a moment a bright, eager child of seven was in his arms, and he +was kissing her all over. Out came Mrs. Keith. "Come yer ways in, +Wattie." "No, not now. I am going to take Marjorie wi' me, and you may +come to your tea in Duncan Roy's sedan, and bring the bairn home in your +lap." "Tak' Marjorie, and it <i>on-ding o' snaw!</i>" said Mrs. Keith. He +said to himself, "On-ding—that's odd—that is the very word." "Hoot, +awa'! look here," and he displayed the corner of his plaid, made to hold +lambs,—the true shepherd's plaid, consisting of two breadths sewed +together, and uncut at one end, making a poke or <i>cul de sac</i>. "Tak' yer +lamb," said she, laughing at the contrivance; and so the Pet was first +well happit up, and then put, laughing silently, into the plaid neuk, +and the shepherd strode off with his lamb,—Maida gambolling through the +snow, and running races in her mirth.</p> + +<p>Didn't he face "the angry airt," and make her bield his bosom, and into +his own room with her, and lock the door, and out with the warm, rosy +little wifie, who took it all with great composure! There the two +remained for three or more hours, making the house ring with their +laughter; you can fancy the big man's and Maidie's laugh. Having made +the fire cheery, he set her down in his ample chair, and, standing +sheepishly before her, began to say his lesson, which happened to be, +"Ziccotty, diccotty, dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck +wan, down the mouse ran, ziccotty, diccotty, dock." This done repeatedly +till she was pleased, she gave him his new lesson, gravely and slowly, +timing it upon her small fingers,—he saying it after her,—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem3"> + <tr><td><small>"Wonery, twoery, tickery, seven;<br> + Alibi, crackaby, ten, and eleven;<br> + Pin, pan, musky, dan;<br> + Tweedle-um, twoddle-um,<br> + Twenty-wan; eerie, orie, ourie,<br> + You, are, out."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>He pretended to great difficulty, and she rebuked him with most comical +gravity, treating him as a child. He used to say that when he came to +Alibi Crackaby he broke down, and pin-Pan, Musky-dan, Tweedle-um, +Twoddle-um made him roar with laughter. He said <i>Musky-Dan</i> especially +was beyond endurance, bringing up an Irishman and his hat fresh from the +Spice Islands and odoriferous Ind; she getting quite bitter in her +displeasure at his ill behavior and stupidness.</p> + +<p>Then he would read ballads to her in his own glorious way, the two +getting wild with excitement over "Gil Morrice" or the "Baron of +Smailholm"; and he would take her on his knee, and make her repeat +Constance's speeches in "King John," till he swayed to and fro, sobbing +his fill. Fancy the gifted little creature, like one possessed, +repeating,—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem4"> + <tr><td><small>"For I am sick, and capable of fears,—<br> + Oppressed with wrong, and, therefore, full of fears;<br> + A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;<br> + A woman, naturally born to fears."<br><br> + "If thou, that bidst me be content, wert grim,<br> + Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb,—<br> + Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious—"</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Or, drawing herself up "to the height of her great argument,"—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem5"> + <tr><td><small>"I will instruct my sorrows to be proud,<br> + For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.<br> + Here I and sorrow sit."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Scott used to say that he was amazed at her power over him, saying to +Mrs. Keith, "She's the most extraordinary creature I ever met with, and +her repeating of Shakespeare overpowers me as nothing else does."</p> + +<p>Thanks to the little book whose title heads this paper, and thanks still +more to the unforgetting sister of this dear child, who has much of the +sensibility and fun of her who has been in her small grave these fifty +and more years, we have now before us the letters and journals of Pet +Marjorie: before us lies and gleams her rich brown hair, bright and +sunny as if yesterday's, with the words on the paper, "Cut out in her +last illness," and two pictures of her by her beloved Isabella, whom she +worshipped; there are the faded old scraps of paper, hoarded still, over +which her warm breath and her warm little heart had poured themselves; +there is the old watermark, "Lingard, 1808." The two portraits are very +like each other, but plainly done at different times; it is a chubby, +healthy face, deep-set, brooding eyes, as eager to tell what is going on +within as to gather in all the glories from without; quick with the +wonder and the pride of life: they are eyes that would not be soon +satisfied with seeing; eyes that would devour their object, and yet +childlike and fearless; and that is a mouth that will not be soon +satisfied with love; it has a curious likeness to Scott's own, which has +always appeared to us his sweetest, most mobile, and speaking feature.</p> + +<p>There she is, looking straight at us as she did at him,—fearless, and +full of love, passionate, wild, wilful, fancy's child. One cannot look +at it without thinking of Wordsworth's lines on poor Hartley +Coleridge:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem6"> + <tr><td><small>"O blessed vision, happy child!<br> + Thou art so exquisitely wild,<br> + I thought of thee with many fears,—<br> + Of what might be thy lot in future years.<br> + I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest,<br> + Lord of thy house and hospitality;<br> + And Grief, uneasy lover! ne'er at rest<br> + But when she sat within the touch of thee.<br> + O too industrious folly!<br> + O vain and causeless melancholy!<br> + Nature will either end thee quite,<br> + Or, lengthening out thy season of delight,<br> + Preserve for thee, by individual right,<br> + A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flock."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>And we can imagine Scott, when holding his warm, plump little playfellow +in his arms, repeating that stately friend's lines:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem7"> + <tr><td><small>"Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;<br> + And Innocence hath privilege in her,<br> + To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes<br> + And feats of cunning, and the pretty round<br> + Of trespasses, affected to provoke<br> + Mock chastisement and partnership in play.<br> + And, as a fagot sparkles on the hearth<br> + Not less if unattended and alone<br> + Than when both young and old sit gathered round<br> + And take delight in its activity,<br> + Even so this happy creature of herself<br> + Is all-sufficient; solitude to her<br> + Is blithe society: she fills the air<br> + With gladness and involuntary songs."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>But we will let her disclose herself. We need hardly say that all this +is true, and that these letters are as really Marjorie's as was this +light brown hair; indeed, you could as easily fabricate the one as the other.</p> + +<p>There was an old servant—Jeanie Robertson—who was forty years in her +grandfather's family. Marjorie Fleming, or, as she is called in the +letters and by Sir Walter, Maidie, was the last child she kept. Jeanie's +wages never exceeded Ł3 a year, and when she left service she had +saved Ł40. She was devotedly attached to Maidie, rather despising +and ill-using her sister Isabella,—a beautiful and gentle child. This +partiality made Maidie apt at times to domineer over Isabella. "I +mention this," writes her surviving sister, "for the purpose of telling +you an instance of Maidie's generous justice. When only five years old, +when walking in Raith grounds, the two children had run on before, and +old Jeanie remembered they might come too near a dangerous mill-lade. +She called to them to turn back. Maidie heeded her not, rushed all the +faster on, and fell, and would have been lost, had her sister not pulled +her back, saving her life, but tearing her clothes. Jeanie flew on +Isabella to 'give it her' for spoiling her favorite's dress; Maidie +rushed in between, crying out, 'Pay (whip) Maidjie as much as you like, +and I'll not say one word; but touch Isy, and I'll roar like a bull!' +Years after Maidie was resting in her grave, my mother used to take me +to the place, and told the story always in the exact same words." This +Jeanie must have been a character. She took great pride in exhibiting +Maidie's brother William's Calvinistic acquirements when nineteen months +old, to the officers of a militia regiment then quartered in Kirkcaldy. +This performance was so amusing that it was often repeated, and the +little theologian was presented by them with a cap and feathers. +Jeanie's glory was "putting him through the carritch" (catechism) in +broad Scotch, beginning at the beginning with "Wha made ye, ma bonnie +man?" For the correctness of this and the three next replies, Jeanie had +no anxiety, but the tone changed to menace, and the closed <i>nieve</i> +(fist) was shaken in the child's face as she demanded, "Of what are you +made?" "D<small>IRT</small>," was the answer uniformly given. "Wull ye never learn to +say <i>dust</i>, ye thrawn deevil?" with a cuff from the opened hand, was the +as inevitable rejoinder.</p> + +<p>Here is Maidie's first letter, before she was six. The spelling is +unaltered, and there are no "commoes."</p> + +<blockquote>"M<small>Y DEAR</small> I<small>SA</small>,—I now sit down to answer all your kind and beloved +letters which you was so good as to write to me. This is the first time +I ever wrote a letter in my Life. There are a great many Girls in the +Square, and they cry just like a pig when we are under the painfull +necessity of putting it to Death. Miss Potune, a Lady of my acquaintance, +praises me dreadfully. I repeated something out of Dean Swift, and she +said I was fit for the stage, and you may think I was primmed up with +majestick Pride, but upon my word I felt myselfe turn a little +birsay,—birsay is a word which is a word that William composed which is +as you may suppose a little enraged. This horrid fat simpliton says that +my Aunt is beautifull, which is intirely impossible, for that is not her +nature."</blockquote> + +<p>What a peppery little pen we wield! What could that have been out of the +Sardonic Dean? What other child of that age would have used "beloved" as +she does? This power of affection, this faculty of <i>be</i>loving, and wild +hunger to be beloved, comes out more and more. She perilled her all upon +it, and it may have been as well—we know, indeed, that it was far +better—for her that this wealth of love was so soon withdrawn to its +one only infinite Giver and Receiver. This must have been the law of her +earthly life. Love was indeed "her Lord and King"; and it was perhaps +well for her that she found so soon that her and our only Lord and King +Himself is Love.</p> + +<p>Here are bits from her Diary at Braehead: "The day of my existence here +has been delightful and enchanting. On Saturday I expected no less than +three well-made Bucks, the names of whom is here advertised. Mr. Geo. +Crakey (Craigie), and Wm. Keith, and Jn. Keith,—the first is the +funniest of every one of them. Mr. Crakey and I walked to Craky-hall +(Craigiehall), hand in hand in Innocence and matitation (meditation) +sweet thinking on the kind love which flows in our tender-hearted mind +which is overflowing with majestic pleasure no one was ever so polite to +me in the hole state of my existence. Mr. Craky you must know is a great +Buck, and pretty good-looking.</p> + +<p>"I am at Ravelston enjoying nature's fresh air. The birds are singing +sweetly, the calf doth frisk, and nature shows her glorious face."</p> + +<p>Here is a confession: "I confess I have been very more like a little +young divil than a creature for when Isabella went up stairs to teach me +religion and my multiplication and to be good and all my other lessons I +stamped with my foot and threw my new hat which she had made on the +ground and was sulky and was dreadfully passionate, but she never whiped +me but said Marjory go into another room and think what a great crime +you are committing letting your temper git the better of you. But I went +so sulkily that the Devil got the better of me but she never never never +whips me so that I think I would be the better of it and the next time +that I behave ill I think she should do it for she never never does +it.... Isabella has given me praise for checking my temper for I was +sulky even when she was kneeling an hole hour teaching me to write."</p> + +<p>Our poor little wifie,—<i>she</i> has no doubts of the personality of the +Devil! "Yesterday I behave extremely ill in God's most holy church for I +would never attend myself nor let Isabella attend which was a great +crime for she often, often tells me that when to or three are geathered +together God is in the midst of them, and it was the very same Divil +that tempted Job that tempted me I am sure; but he resisted Satan though +he had boils and many many other misfortunes which I have escaped.... I +am now going to tell you the horible and wretched plaege (plague) that +my multiplication gives me you can't conceive it the most Devilish thing +is 8 times 8 and 7 times 7 it is what nature itself cant endure."</p> + +<p>This is delicious; and what harm is there in her "Devilish"? It is +strong language merely; even old Rowland Hill used to say "he grudged +the Devil those rough and ready words." "I walked to that delightful +place Craky-hall with a delightful young man beloved by all his friends +espacially by me his loveress, but I must not talk any more about him +for Isa said it is not proper for to speak of gentalmen but I will never +forget him!... I am very very glad that satan has not given me boils and +many other misfortunes—In the holy bible these words are written that +the Devil goes like a roaring lyon in search of his pray but the lord +lets us escape from him but we" (<i>pauvre petite!</i>) "do not strive with +this awfull Spirit.... To-day I pronunced a word which should never come +out of a lady's lips it was that I called John a Impudent Bitch. I will +tell you what I think made me in so bad a humor is I got one or two of +that bad bad sina (senna) tea to-day,"—a better excuse for bad humor +and bad language than most.</p> + +<p>She has been reading the Book of Esther: "It was a dreadful thing that +Haman was hanged on the very gallows which he had prepared for Mordeca +to hang him and his ten sons thereon and it was very wrong and cruel to +hang his sons for they did not commit the crime; <i>but then Jesus was not +then come to teach us to be merciful.</i>" This is wise and beautiful,—has +upon it the very dew of youth and of holiness. Out of the mouths of +babes and sucklings He perfects His praise.</p> + +<p>"This is Saturday and I am very glad of it because I have play half the +Day and I get money too but alas I owe Isabella 4 pence for I am finned +2 pence whenever I bite my nails. Isabella is teaching me to make simme +colings nots of interrigations peorids commoes, etc.... As this is +Sunday I will meditate upon Senciable and Religious subjects. First I +should be very thankful I am not a begger."</p> + +<p>This amount of meditation and thankfulness seems to have been all she +was able for.</p> + +<p>"I am going to-morrow to a delightfull place, Braehead by name, +belonging to Mrs. Crraford, where there is ducks cocks hens bubblyjocks +2 dogs 2 cats and swine which is delightful. I think it is shocking to +think that the dog and cat should bear them" (this is a meditation +physiological), "and they are drowned after all. I would rather have a +man-dog than a woman-dog, because they do not bear like women-dogs; it +is a hard case—it is shocking. I cam here to enjoy natures delightful +breath it is sweeter than a fial (phial) of rose oil."</p> + +<p>Braehead is the farm the historical Jock Howison asked and got from our +gay James the Fifth, "the gudeman o' Ballengiech," as a reward for the +services of his flail, when the King had the worst of it at Cramond Brig +with the gypsies. The farm is unchanged in size from that time, and +still in the unbroken line of the ready and victorious thrasher. +Braehead is held on the condition of the possessor being ready to +present the King with a ewer and basin to wash his hands, Jock having +done this for his unknown king after the <i>splore</i>, and when George the +Fourth came to Edinburgh this ceremony was performed in silver at +Holyrood. It is a lovely neuk this Braehead, preserved almost as it was +200 years ago. "Lot and his wife," mentioned by Maidie,—two quaintly +cropped yew-trees,—still thrive, the burn runs as it did in her time, +and sings the same quiet tune,—as much the same and as different as +<i>Now</i> and <i>Then</i>. The house full of old family relics and pictures, the +sun shining on them through the small deep windows with their plate +glass; and there, blinking at the sun, and chattering contentedly, is a +parrot, that might, for its looks of eld, have been in the ark, and +domineered over and <i>deaved</i> the dove. Everything about the place is old +and fresh.</p> + +<p>This is beautiful: "I am very sorry to say that I forgot God—that is to +say I forgot to pray to-day and Isabella told me that I should be +thankful that God did not forget me—if he did, O what would become of +me if I was in danger and God not friends with me—I must go to +unquenchable fire and if I was tempted to sin—how could I resist it O +no I will never do it again—no no—if I can help it!" (Canny wee +wifie!) "My religion is greatly falling off because I dont pray with so +much attention when I am saying my prayers, and my charecter is lost +among the Braehead people. I hope I will be religious again—but as for +regaining my charecter I despare for it." (Poor little "habit and +repute"!)</p> + +<p>Her temper, her passion, and her "badness" are almost daily confessed +and deplored: "I will never again trust to my own power, for I see that +I cannot be good without God's assistance,—I will not trust in my own +selfe, and Isa's health will be quite ruined by me,—it will indeed." +"Isa has giving me advice, which is, that when I feal Satan beginning to +tempt me, that I flea him and he would flea me." "Remorse is the worst +thing to bear, and I am afraid that I will fall a marter to it."</p> + +<p>Poor dear little sinner! Here comes the world again: "In my travels I +met with a handsome lad named Charles Balfour Esq., and from him I got +ofers of marage—offers of marage, did I say? Nay plenty heard me." A +fine scent for "breach of promise"!</p> + +<p>This is abrupt and strong: "The Divil is curced and all his works. 'Tis +a fine work <i>Newton on the profecies</i>. I wonder if there is another book +of poems comes near the Bible. The Divil always girns at the sight of +the Bible." "Miss Potune" (her "simpliton" friend) "is very fat; she +pretends to be very learned. She says she saw a stone that dropt from +the skies; but she is a good Christian." Here comes her views on church +government: "An Annibabtist is a thing I am not a member of—I am a +Pisplekan (Episcopalian) just now, and" (O you little Laodicean and +Latitudinarian!) "a Prisbeteran at Kirkcaldy!"—(<i>Blandula! Vagula! +coelum et animum mutas quć trans mare</i> (i.e. <i>trans +Bodotriam</i>)—<i>curris!</i>)—"my native town." "Sentiment is not what I am +acquainted with as yet, though I wish it, and should like to practise +it." (!) "I wish I had a great, great deal of gratitude in my heart, in +all my body." "There is a new novel published, named <i>Self-Control</i>" +(Mrs. Brunton's)—"a very good maxim forsooth!" This is shocking: +"Yesterday a marrade man, named Mr. John Balfour, Esq., offered to kiss +me, and offered to marry me, though the man" (a fine directness this!) +"was espused, and his wife was present and said he must ask her +permission; but he did not. I think he was ashamed and confounded before +3 gentelman—Mr. Jobson and 2 Mr. Kings." "Mr. Banester's" (Bannister's) +"Budjet is to-night; I hope it will be a good one. A great many authors +have expressed themselves too sentimentally." You are right, Marjorie. +"A Mr. Burns writes a beautiful song on Mr. Cunhaming, whose wife +desarted him—truly it is a most beautiful one." "I like to read the +Fabulous historys, about the histerys of Robin, Dickey, flapsay, and +Peccay, and it is very amusing, for some were good birds and others bad, +but Peccay was the most dutiful and obedient to her parients." "Thomson +is a beautiful author, and Pope, but nothing to Shakespear, of which I +have a little knolege. 'Macbeth' is a pretty composition, but awful +one." "The <i>Newgate Calender</i> is very instructive." (!) "A sailor called +here to say farewell; it must be dreadful to leave his native country +when he might get a wife; or perhaps me, for I love him very much. But O +I forgot, Isabella forbid me to speak about love." This antiphlogistic +regimen and lesson is ill to learn by our Maidie, for here she sins +again: "Love is a very papithatick thing" (it is almost a pity to +correct this into pathetic), "as well as troublesome and tiresome—but O +Isabella forbid me to speak of it." Here are her reflections on a +pineapple: "I think the price of a pine-apple is very dear: it is a +whole bright goulden guinea, that might have sustained a poor family." +Here is a new vernal simile: "The hedges are sprouting like chicks from +the eggs when they are newly hatched or, as the vulgar say, <i>clacked</i>." +"Doctor Swift's works are very funny; I got some of them by heart." +"Moreheads sermons are I hear much praised, but I never read sermons of +any kind; but I read novelettes and my Bible, and I never forget it, or +my prayers." Bravo, Marjorie!</p> + +<p>She seems now, when still about six, to have broken out into song:—</p> + +<center>"E<small>PHIBOL</small> (E<small>PIGRAM OR</small> E<small>PITAPH</small>,—W<small>HO +KNOWS WHICH</small>?)<br><small>ON MY DEAR</small> L<small>OVE</small>, +I<small>SABELLA</small>.</center> +<br> +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem8"> + <tr><td><small>"Here lies sweet Isabel in bed,<br> + With a night-cap on her head;<br> + Her skin is soft, her face is fair,<br> + And she has very pretty hair:<br> + She and I in bed lies nice,<br> + And undisturbed by rats or mice.<br> + She is disgusted with Mr. Worgan,<br> + Though he plays upon the organ.<br> + Her nails are neat, her teeth are white;<br> + Her eyes are very, very bright.<br> + In a conspicuous town she lives,<br> + And to the poor her money gives.<br> + Here ends sweet Isabella's story,<br> + And may it be much to her glory!"</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Here are some bits at random:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem9"> + <tr><td><small>"Of summer I am very fond,<br> + And love to bathe into a pond:<br> + The look of sunshine dies away,<br> + And will not let me out to play.<br> + I love the morning's sun to spy<br> + Glittering through the casement's eye;<br> + The rays of light are very sweet,<br> + And puts away the taste of meat.<br> + The balmy breeze comes down from heaven,<br> + And makes us like for to be living."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"The casawary is an curious bird, and so is the gigantic crane, and the +pelican of the wilderness, whose mouth holds a bucket of fish and water. +Fighting is what ladies is not qualyfied for, they would not make a good +figure in battle or in a duel. Alas! we females are of little use to our +country. The history of all the malcontents as ever was hanged is +amusing." Still harping on the Newgate Calendar!</p> + +<p>"Braehead is extremely pleasant to me by the companie of swine, geese, +cocks, etc., and they are the delight of my soul."</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell you of a melancholy story. A young turkie of 2 or 3 +months old, would you believe it, the father broke its leg, and he +killed another! I think he ought to be transported or hanged."</p> + +<p>"Queen Street is a very gay one, and so is Princes Street, for all the +lads and lasses, besides bucks and beggars parade there."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see a play very much, for I never saw one in all my +life, and don't believe I ever shall; but I hope I can be content +without going to one. I can be quite happy without my desire being +granted."</p> + +<p>"Some days ago Isabella had a terrible fit of the toothake, and she +walked with a long night-shift at dead of night like a ghost, and I +thought she was one. She prayed for nature's sweet restorer—balmy +sleep—but did not get it—a ghostly figure indeed she was, enough to +make a saint tremble. It made me quiver and shake from top to toe. +Superstition is a very mean thing and should be despised and shunned."</p> + +<p>Here is her weakness and her strength again: "In the love-novels all the +heroines are very desperate. Isabella will not allow me to speak about +lovers and heroins, and 'tis too refined for my taste." "Miss Egward's +(Edgeworth's) tails are very good, particularly some that are very much +adapted for youth (!) as Laz Laurance and Tarelton, False Keys, etc. etc."</p> + +<p>"Tom Jones and Grey's Elegey in a country churchyard are both excellent, +and much spoke of by both sex, particularly by the men." Are our +Marjories nowadays better or worse because they cannot read Tom Jones +unharmed? More better than worse; but who among them can repeat Gray's +Lines on a distant prospect of Eton College as could our Maidie?</p> + +<p>Here is some more of her prattle: "I went into Isabella's bed to make +her smile like the Genius Demedicus" (the Venus de Medicis) "or the +statute in an ancient Greece, but she fell asleep in my very face, at +which my anger broke forth, so that I awoke her from a comfortable nap. +All was now hushed up again, but again my anger burst forth at her +biding me get up."</p> + +<p>She begins thus loftily,—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem10"> + <tr><td><small>"Death the righteous love to see,<br> + But from it doth the wicked flee."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Then suddenly breaks off as if with laughter,—</p> + +<center><small>"I am sure they fly as fast as their legs can carry them!"</small></center> +<br> +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem11"> + <tr><td><small>"There is a thing I love to see,—<br> + That is, our monkey catch a flee!"</small></td></tr> +</table> +<br> +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem12"> + <tr><td><small>"I love in Isa's bed to lie,—<br> + Oh, such a joy and luxury!<br> + The bottom of the bed I sleep,<br> + And with great care within I creep;<br> + Oft I embrace her feet of lillys,<br> + But she has goton all the pillys.<br> + Her neck I never can embrace,<br> + But I do hug her feet in place."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>How childish and yet how strong and free is her use of words!—"I lay at +the foot of the bed because Isabella said I disturbed her by continial +fighting and kicking, but I was very dull, and continially at work +reading the Arabian Nights, which I could not have done if I had slept +at the top. I am reading the Mysteries of Udolpho. I am much interested +in the fate of poor, poor Emily."</p> + +<p>Here is one of her swains:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem13"> + <tr><td><small>"Very soft and white his cheeks;<br> + His hair is red, and grey his breeks;<br> + His tooth is like the daisy fair:<br> + His only fault is in his hair."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This is a higher flight:—</p> + +<center>"D<small>EDICATED TO</small> M<small>RS</small>. +H. C<small>RAWFORD BY THE</small> A<small>UTHOR</small>, M. F.</center> +<br> +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem14"> + <tr><td><small>"Three turkeys fair their last have breathed,<br> + And now this world forever leaved;<br> + Their father, and their mother too,<br> + They sigh and weep as well as you:<br> + Indeed, the rats their bones have crunched;<br> + Into eternity theire laanched.<br> + A direful death indeed they had,<br> + As wad put any parent mad;<br> + But she was more than usual calm:<br> + She did not give a single dam."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This last word is saved from all sin by its tender age, not to speak of +the want of the <i>n</i>. We fear "she" is the abandoned mother, in spite of +her previous sighs and tears.</p> + +<p>"Isabella says when we pray we should pray fervently, and not rattel +over a prayer,—for that we are kneeling at the footstool of our Lord +and Creator, who saves us from eternal damnation, and from +unquestionable fire and brimston."</p> + +<p>She has a long poem on Mary Queen of Scots:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem15"> + <tr><td><small>"Queen Mary was much loved by all,<br> + Both by the great and by the small;<br> + But hark! her soul to heaven doth rise,<br> + And I suppose she has gained a prize;<br> + For I do think she would not go<br> + Into the <i>awful</i> place below.<br> + There is a thing that I must tell,—<br> + Elizabeth went to fire and hell!<br> + He who would teach her to be civil,<br> + It must be her great friend, the divil!"</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>She hits off Darnley well:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem16"> + <tr><td><small>"A noble's son,—a handsome lad,—<br> + By some queer way or other, had<br> + Got quite the better of her heart;<br> + With him she always talked apart:<br> + Silly he was, but very fair;<br> + A greater buck was not found there."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"By some queer way or other"; is not this the general case and the +mystery, young ladies and gentlemen? Goethe's doctrine of "elective +affinities" discovered by our Pet Maidie.</p> + +<center>S<small>ONNET TO A</small> M<small>ONKEY</small>. </center> +<br> +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem17"> + <tr><td><small>"O lively, O most charming pug!<br> + Thy graceful air and heavenly mug!<br> + The beauties of his mind do shine,<br> + And every bit is shaped and fine.<br> + Your teeth are whiter than the snow;<br> + Your a great buck, your a great beau;<br> + Your eyes are of so nice a shape,<br> + More like a Christian's than an ape;<br> + Your cheek is like the rose's blume;<br> + Your hair is like the raven's plume;<br> + His nose's cast is of the Roman:<br> + He is a very pretty woman.<br> + I could not get a rhyme for Roman,<br> + So was obliged to call him woman." </small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This last joke is good. She repeats it when writing of James the Second +being killed at Roxburgh:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem18"> + <tr><td><small>"He was killed by a cannon splinter,<br> + Quite in the middle of the winter;<br> + Perhaps it was not at that time,<br> + But I can get no other rhyme!"</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Here is one of her last letters, dated Kirkcaldy, 12th October, 1811. +You can see how her nature is deepening and enriching:—</p> + +<blockquote>"M<small>Y DEAR</small> M<small>OTHER</small>,—You will think that I entirely forget you but I assure +you that you are greatly mistaken. I think of you always and often sigh +to think of the distance between us two loving creatures of nature. We +have regular hours for all our occupations first at 7 o'clock we go to +the dancing and come home at 8 we then read our Bible and get our +repeating, and then play till ten, then we get our music till 11 when we +get our writing and accounts we sew from 12 till 1 after which I get my +gramer, and then work till five. At 7 we come and knit till 8 when we +dont go to the dancing. This is an exact description. I must take a +hasty farewell to her whom I love, reverence and doat on and who I hope +thinks the same of</blockquote> + +<blockquote><div align="right">"M<small>ARJORY</small> F<small>LEMING</small>. </div></blockquote> + +<blockquote>"<i>P.S.</i>—An old pack of cards (!) would be very exeptible."</blockquote> + +<p>This other is a month earlier:—</p> + +<blockquote>"M<small>Y DEAR LITTLE</small> M<small>AMA</small>,—I was truly happy to hear that you were all well. +We are surrounded with measles at present on every side, for the Herons +got it, and Isabella Heron was near Death's Door, and one night her +father lifted her out of bed, and she fell down as they thought lifeless. +Mr. Heron said, 'That lassie's deed noo,'—'I'm no deed yet.' She then +threw up a big worm nine inches and a half long. I have begun dancing, +but am not very fond of it, for the boys strikes and mocks me.—I have +been another night at the dancing; I like it better. I will write to you +as often as I can; but I am afraid not every week. <i>I long for you with +the longings of a child to embrace you,—to fold you in my arms. I +respect you with all the respect due to a mother. You dont know how I +love you. So I shall remain, your loving child,</i>—M. F<small>LEMING</small>."</blockquote> + +<p>What rich involution of love in the words marked! +Here are some lines to her beloved Isabella, in July, 1811:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem19"> + <tr><td><small>"There is a thing that I do want,—<br> + With you these beauteous walks to haunt;<br> + We would be happy if you would<br> + Try to come over if you could.<br> + Then I would all quite happy be<br> + <i>Now and for all eternity</i>.<br> + My mother is so very sweet,<br> + <i>And checks my appetite to eat;</i><br> + My father shows us what to do;<br> + But O I'm sure that I want you.<br> + I have no more of poetry;<br> + O Isa do remember me,<br> + And try to love your Marjory."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>In a letter from "Isa" to</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="address"> + <tr><td><small> "Miss Muff Maidie Marjory Fleming,<br> + favored by Rare Rear-Admiral Fleming,"</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>she says: "I long much to see you, and talk over all our old stories +together, and to hear you read and repeat. I am pining for my old friend +Cesario, and poor Lear, and wicked Richard. How is the dear +Multiplication table going on? Are you still as much attached to 9 times +9 as you used to be?"</p> + +<p>But this dainty, bright thing is about to flee,—to come "quick to +confusion." The measles she writes of seized her, and she died on the +19th of December, 1811. The day before her death, Sunday, she sat up in +bed, worn and thin, her eye gleaming as with the light of a coming world, +and with a tremulous, old voice repeated the following lines by +Burns,—heavy with the shadow of death, and lit with the fantasy of the +judgment-seat,—the publican's prayer in paraphrase:—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem20"> + <tr><td><small> "Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?<br> + Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?—<br> + Some drops of joy, with draughts of ill between,<br> + Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms?<br> + Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?<br> + Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?<br> + For guilt, for <small>GUILT</small>, my terrors are in arms;<br> + I tremble to approach an angry God,<br> + And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.<br><br> + "Fain would I say, Forgive my foul offence,<br> + Fain promise never more to disobey;<br> + But should my Author health again dispense,<br> + Again I might forsake fair virtue's way,<br> + Again in folly's path might go astray,<br> + Again exalt the brute and sink the man.<br> + Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,<br> + Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan,<br> + Who sin so oft have mourned, yet to temptation ran?<br><br> + "O thou great Governor of all below,<br> + If I might dare a lifted eye to thee,<br> + Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,<br> + And still the tumult of the raging sea;<br> + With that controlling power assist even me<br> + Those headstrong furious passions to confine,<br> + For all unfit I feel my powers to be<br> + To rule their torrent in the allowed line;<br> + O, aid me with thy help, O<small>MNIPOTENCE</small> D<small>IVINE</small>."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>It is more affecting than we care to say to read her mother's and +Isabella Keith's letters written immediately after her death. Old and +withered, tattered and pale, they are now: but when you read them, how +quick, how throbbing with life and love! how rich in that language of +affection which only women and Shakespeare and Luther can use,—that +power of detaining the soul over the beloved object and its loss!</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem21"> + <tr><td align="center"><small>"K. P<small>HILIP</small> (<i>to</i> C<small>ONSTANCE</small>).</small></td></tr> + <tr><td><small>You are as fond of grief as of your child.</small></td></tr> + <tr><td align="center"><small>C<small>ONSTANCE</small>.</small></td></tr> + <tr><td><small>Grief fills the room up of my absent child,<br> + Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;<br> + Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,<br> + Remembers me of all his gracious parts,<br> + Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.<br> + Then I have reason to be fond of grief."</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>What variations cannot love play on this one string!</p> + +<p>In her first letter to Miss Keith, Mrs. Fleming says of her dead Maidie: +"Never did I behold so beautiful an object. It resembled the finest +waxwork. There was in the countenance an expression of sweetness and +serenity which seemed to indicate that the pure spirit had anticipated +the joys of heaven ere it quitted the mortal frame. To tell you what +your Maidie said of you would fill volumes; for you was the constant +theme of her discourse, the subject of her thoughts, and ruler of her +actions. The last time she mentioned you was a few hours before all +sense save that of suffering was suspended, when she said to Dr. +Johnstone, 'If you let me out at the New Year, I will be quite +contented.' I asked her what made her so anxious to get out then. 'I +want to purchase a New Year's gift for Isa Keith with the sixpence you +gave me for being patient in the measles; and I would like to choose it +myself.' I do not remember her speaking afterwards, except to complain +of her head, till just before she expired, when she articulated, 'O +mother! mother!'"</p> +<br> +<p>Do we make too much of this little child, who has been in her grave in +Abbotshall Kirkyard these fifty and more years? We may of her +cleverness,—not of her affectionateness, her nature. What a picture the +<i>animosa infans</i> gives us of herself,—her vivacity, her passionateness, +her precocious love-making, her passion for nature, for swine, for all +living things, her reading, her turn for expression, her satire, her +frankness, her little sins and rages, her great repentances! We don't +wonder Walter Scott carried her off in the neuk of his plaid, and played +himself with her for hours.</p> + +<p>The year before she died, when in Edinburgh, she was at a Twelfth Night +Supper at Scott's, in Castle Street. The company had all come,—all but +Marjorie. Scott's familiars, whom we all know, were there,—all were +come but Marjorie; and all were dull because Scott was dull. "Where's +that bairn? what can have come over her? I'll go myself and see." And he +was getting up, and would have gone; when the bell rang, and in came +Duncan Roy and his henchman Tougald, with the sedan chair, which was +brought right into the lobby, and its top raised. And there, in its +darkness and dingy old cloth, sat Maidie in white, her eyes gleaming, +and Scott bending over her in ecstasy,—"hung over her enamored." "Sit +ye there, my dautie, till they all see you"; and forthwith he brought +them all. You can fancy the scene. And he lifted her up and marched to +his seat with her on his stout shoulder, and set her down beside him; +and then began the night, and such a night! Those who knew Scott best +said, that night was never equalled; Maidie and he were the stars; and +she gave them <i>Constance's</i> speeches and "Helvellyn," the ballad then +much in vogue, and all her <i>répertoire</i>,—Scott showing her off, and +being ofttimes rebuked by her for his intentional blunders.</p> + +<p>We are indebted for the following to her sister: "Her birth was 15th +January, 1803; her death, 19th December, 1811. I take this from her +Bibles.<small><small><sup>3</sup></small></small> I believe she was a child of robust health, of much vigor of +body, and beautifully formed arms, and, until her last illness, never +was an hour in bed.</p> + +<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> "Her Bible is before me; <i>a pair</i>, as then called; the +faded marks are just as she placed them. There is one at David's lament +over Jonathan."</small></blockquote> + +<p>"I have to ask you to forgive my anxiety in gathering up the fragments +of Marjorie's last days, but I have an almost sacred feeling to all that +pertains to her. You are quite correct in stating that measles were the +cause of her death. My mother was struck by the patient quietness +manifested by Marjorie during this illness, unlike her ardent, impulsive +nature; but love and poetic feeling were unquenched. When Dr. Johnstone +rewarded her submissiveness with a sixpence, the request speedily +followed that she might get out ere New Year's day came. When asked why +she was so desirous of getting out, she immediately rejoined, 'O, I am +so anxious to buy something with my sixpence for my dear Isa Keith.' +Again, when lying very still, her mother asked her if there was anything +she wished: 'O yes! if you would just leave the room-door open a wee bit, +and play "The Land o' the Leal," and I will lie and <i>think</i>, and enjoy +myself' (this is just as stated to me by her mother and mine). Well, the +happy day came, alike to parents and child, when Marjorie was allowed to +come forth from the nursery to the parlor. It was Sabbath evening, and +after tea. My father, who idolized this child, and never afterwards in +my hearing mentioned her name, took her in his arms; and, while walking +her up and down the room, she said, 'Father, I will repeat something to +you; what would you like?' He said, 'Just choose yourself, Maidie.' She +hesitated for a moment between the paraphrase, 'Few are thy days, and +full of woe,' and the lines of Burns already quoted, but decided on the +latter, a remarkable choice for a child. The repeating these lines +seemed to stir up the depths of feeling in her soul. She asked to be +allowed to write a poem; there was a doubt whether it would be right to +allow her, in case of hurting her eyes. She pleaded earnestly, 'Just +this once'; the point was yielded, her slate was given her, and with +great rapidity she wrote an address of fourteen lines, 'to her loved +cousin on the author's recovery,' her last work on earth;—</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem22"> + <tr><td><small>'Oh! Isa, pain did visit me,<br> + I was at the last extremity;<br> + How often did I think of you,<br> + I wished your graceful form to view,<br> + To clasp you in my weak embrace,<br> + Indeed I thought I'd run my race:<br> + Good care, I'm sure, was of me taken,<br> + But still indeed I was much shaken,<br> + At last I daily strength did gain,<br> + And oh! at last, away went pain;<br> + At length the doctor thought I might<br> + Stay in the parlor all the night;<br> + I now continue so to do,<br> + Farewell to Nancy and to you.'</small></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"She went to bed apparently well, awoke in the middle of the night with +the old cry of woe to a mother's heart, 'My head, my head!' Three days +of the dire malady, 'water in the head,' followed, and the end came."</p> + +<center><small>"Soft, silken primrose, fading timelessly."</small></center> + +<p>It is needless, it is impossible, to add anything to this: the fervor, +the sweetness, the flush of poetic ecstasy, the lovely and glowing eye, +the perfect nature of that bright and warm intelligence, that darling +child,—Lady Nairne's words, and the old tune, stealing up from the +depths of the human heart, deep calling unto deep, gentle and strong +like the waves of the great sea hushing themselves to sleep in the dark; +the words of Burns touching the kindred chord, her last numbers "wildly +sweet" traced with thin and eager fingers, already touched by the last +enemy and friend,—<i>moriens canit</i>,—and that love which is so soon to +be her everlasting light, is her song's burden to the end.</p> + +<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" summary="poem23"> + <tr><td><small>"She set as sets the morning star, which goes<br> + Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides<br> + Obscured among the tempests of the sky,<br> + But melts away into the light of heaven."</small></td></tr> +</table><br> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/16.gif" alt="stop5"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story5"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/17.gif" alt="banner6"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>LITTLE JAKEY.</h3> +<center>BY MRS. S. H. D<small>E</small>KROYFT.</center> +<h4>I.</h4> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter a"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/18.gif" alt="Letter A"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>t the time of the opening of this story, there were in the rear of the +New York Institution for the Blind, two small but pleasant parks, full +of trees and winding walks, where the birds sang, and blind boys and +girls ran and played. The little gate between the two parks was usually +left open during school hours, and one bright June morning, while the +sun was drinking up the dews from the leaves and the flowers, I chanced +to be walking there, and I heard the little gate opening and shutting, +opening and shutting; rattle went the chain, then bang went the gate, +until suddenly, as I was passing it, a little voice saluted me, so sweet +and musical and up so high, that for the moment I almost fancied one of +the birds had stopped his song to speak with me.</p> + +<p>"I know you. I knows ven you come. Sometimes you tell stories to ze +girls, and I hear you ven I bees dis side."</p> + +<p>Going up and putting my hand on the little speaker's head, I said,—</p> + +<p>"Pray, what little girl is this here, with these long pretty curls, +swinging on the gate?"</p> + +<p>"I bees not a girl,—I bees a boy, I be."</p> + +<p>Then passing my hand down over a little coat covered with buttons, I +said,—</p> + +<p>"Surely, so you are a little boy; but what is your name?"</p> + +<p>"My name bees Little Jakey; dot is my name."</p> + +<p>"Little Jakey! Indeed! and pray, when did you come here?"</p> + +<p>Quick as thought his little foot struck out against the post again, and +the gate went flying to and fro, as before; then coming to a sudden halt, +he said,—</p> + +<p>"Vell, I tink I tell you. I bees here von Sunday and von Sunday and +<i>von</i> Sunday; so long I bees here."</p> + +<p>"How old are you, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"I bees seving; dot is my old,—dot is how old I bees."</p> + +<p>"And can you not see?"</p> + +<p>"No, I not see. Ven Gott make my eyes, my moder say he not put ze light +in zem."</p> + +<p>"And are you going to school here, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some ze time I go in ze school, and I read ze letters mit my +fing-er. Von letter vot live on ze top ze line, I know him, ven I put my +fing-er on him; hees name bees A; and von oder letter, I know him, ven I +put my fing-er on him,—round like ze hoop; hees name bees O."</p> + +<p>"Who teaches you the letters, Little Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"Cassie, ce teach me, but all ze time ce laugh, ven I say ze vords; so +Miss Setland sen her avay, and now Libbie, ce teach me. But not much I +go in ze school. I come down here mit ze birds in ze trees. Up to ze +house ze birds not go. Eddy and Villy, and all ze boys, ven zey play, +make big noise, and zey scare ze birds. But down here zey not scare, and +all ze time zey sing."</p> + +<p>"You love the birds, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I love ze birds. I love von bird up in dot tree. You not see him +vay high dare? Ven I have eat my dinner in ze morning, I come down here, +and ven I have eat my dinner in ze noon, I come down here; and all ze +time, ven I come, he sing. Sometimes some oder birds come in ze tree, +and zey sing mit him; but all ze time he sing. I vish I sing like ze +birds. I vish I have vings, and I go vay high in ze sky, vare ze stars +be. Gott make ze stars, and Georgy say dot zey shine vay down in ze +vater, he see zem dare; and von time I tell him dot he vill get me von +mit hees hook vot he catch ze fishes mit; but he laugh and say dot he +cannot. But I tink I see ze stars ven I come im Himmel mit"—</p> + +<p>"Im Himmel! Where is that, Jakey? Where is Himmel?"</p> + +<p>"Vy! you not know dot? Himmel bees vare Gott live."</p> + +<p>I caught him down from the gate in my arms, and nearly smothered him +with kisses.</p> + +<p>Then he put his hands up and felt my face over, so softly and tenderly, +that I fancied his little creeping fingers reading there every thought +in my heart; and finally, clasping his loving arms around my neck, he +said, in a voice hardly above a whisper,—</p> + +<p>"I love you,—you love me?"</p> + +<p>"I do indeed love you, you dear lamb," I said; but I could hardly speak, +my voice was so choked with tears. Perceiving this, he rested his little +hand softly on my cheek again, and whispered timidly,—</p> + +<p>"Vy for you cry?"</p> + +<p>But hearing some one approaching, and fearing to be disturbed, I took +his little hand in mine and led him away, across the park, to a seat +under the big mulberry, where I held him long and lovingly on my lap, as +I did often afterwards, while coaxing from his sweet lips the following +chapters of his strange little life.</p> +<br> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>Little Jakey was indeed <i>little</i> Jakey. I have often seen boys three +years old both taller and heavier; but never one more perfect in form +and feature. His little feet and hands might have belonged to a fairy. +His black eyes were bright and full, with long lashes and arched brows. +His long curls were blacker than the raven, and while holding him there +in my arms, I could think of nothing but a beautiful cherub with folded +wings, astray from heaven. After smoothing down his curls awhile, and +kissing him many times, I said to him,—</p> + +<p>"Dear Jakey, pray where did you come from, and who brought you here?"</p> + +<p>Then dropping both his little hands in mine, he said,—</p> + +<p>"I come fon Germany. My moder, ce bring me. I come mit her, and mit ze +baby. Ven I come in ze America, ze flowers bees in ze garden, and ze +birds bees in ze trees, and ze opples bees on ze trees, and ze +pot-a-toes bees in ze ground. Zen ze vinds blow and ze birds go avay, +and ze opples bees in ze cellar, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze cellar. +Zen ze vinds blow too hard and ze snow bees on ze ground, and it bees +cold vinter. Zen long time ze snow go avay, and ze leaves come on ze +trees, and ze birds come back again, and it bees varm; so long I bees in +ze America."</p> + +<p>"And so you have been here one year? But pray, dear, where is your +father? Is he dead?"</p> + +<p>"No, he bees not dead. He bees in Germany, mit Jeem and mit Fred and mit +my granfader."</p> + +<p>"But, Jakey, why did your mother come away here to America, and leave +your father away there in Germany?"</p> + +<p>I felt his little hands stir in mine; but after a moment he drew a +little sigh and said,—</p> + +<p>"Vell, I tink I tell you. My granfader have some lands, some big lands +he have, and he sell zem; and may be he not buy it, but he get von big +house in ze city, mit vindows vay down to ze ground, and in ze vindows +he put—I not know vot you call zem, but zey have vine in zem, and beer +in zem."</p> + +<p>"Bottles, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dot bees it, bottles mit vine and mit beer in zem; and my fader go +dare, and he give my granfader ze pennies, and he drink ze vine and he +drink ze beer. Much times and all ze time he go dare, and he do dot. And +von day he come home, and he have drunk too much ze beer, and hees head +go von vay and von vay; and he say vicked vords, and my moder ce cry. +Jeem and Fred bees afraid, and zey hide; but I bees not afraid, I bees +mit my moder. And ven my fader tink he sit down on ze chair, he go vay +fall on ze floor; and ven Jeem and Fred hear him, zey run out, and ven +zey see him dare on ze floor, zey laugh; and my fader say dot he vill +kill zem, and he vill trow ze chair at zem, but too quick zey run avay; +and all ze time my moder ce cry and ce cry, and ce not eat ze dinner, +and ce make my fader go lay on ze bed.</p> + +<p>"Von time my fader come home and he have drunk too much ze beer, and he +have sold ze piano. And von time he come home and he have drunk too much +ze beer, and he have sold ze harp; and ze man come mit him vot have buy +it; and ven ze harp go avay, my moder ce cry, and my fader strike her +mit hees hand, and he strike Jeem and Fred; and me he vill strike, but +my moder ce not let him.</p> + +<p>"Von oder time ze men come dare, and zey take avay all ze tings vot my +moder have,—ze chair, and ze sofa, and all ze tings. Zen my moder ce go +live in von leetle house, and some ze time ce not have ze fire dare, and +some ze time ce not have ze bread. And von time in ze night my fader +come home, and he bring too much men mit him vot have drunk ze beer; and +he tell my moder dot ce give ze men ze supper. And my moder say dot +ce have not ze supper, ce have not ze fire, and ce have not ze bread; +and ven ce tell ze men go avay, zey say bad vords to my moder, and my +fader he strike her dot ce go on ze floor. Zen mit her hair he drag her +to ze door, and mit hees feets he strike her vay out on ze stone, and +her head bleed. And Jeem he see her dare, and he cry, and Fred cry, and +I cry; and my moder ce groan like ce die. And von ze men vot come mit +him strike my fader, and von oder man strike <i>him</i>, and zey say vicked +vords, and zey all strike, and zey break ze tings. And vile zey do dot, +my moder ce get up, and ce come avay in ze dark, and Jeem and Fred come +mit her, and I come mit her, and long vay ce sit down on ze stone by ze +big house; and Jeem bees cold dare, and he cry; and Fred bees cold, and +he cry. I bees not cold, I not cry, my moder ce hold me tight; but all +ze time ce cry.</p> + +<p>"Zen long time ze man vot live in ze big house open ze door, and he say +some vords to my moder, and my moder ce tell him dot my fader have got +ze bad men mit him in ze house, and he tell my moder dot ce come in; and +Jeem and Fred zey go up ze step, and ze man he lif me, and my moder ce +come up ze step; and ven ce come in, ze man see ze blood, vare my fader +have strike her, and he go tell ze lady dot ce come, and ze lady vash my +moder's head, and ce give her ze medicine vot ce drink. Zen ce lay her +on ze bed, and I lay on ze bed mit her; and Jeem and Fred zey go in von +leetle bed to ze fire.</p> + +<p>"In ze morning my moder come home, and my fader sleep dare on ze floor, +and vile he sleep, he make big noise mit hees nose; and Jeem and Fred +laugh, cause my fader make big noise mit hees nose, but my moder ce cry.</p> + +<p>"Long time Jeem bees hungry and he cry, Fred bees hungry and he cry, but +my moder say ce have not ze meat and ce have not ze bread. Zen long time +my fader vake, and ven he see my moder dare, he say dot he vill be good, +dot he vill not drink ze vine and ze beer any more; and he kiss my moder, +and he say dot he love her, and dot he vill get ze fire, and he vill +get ze bread, but he have not ze money. Zen my moder say dot ce vill +give him ze vatch vot ce have, ven ce vas mit her moder in Italy, to get +ze money mit, but ce tink ven he get ze money he vill drink ze beer. My +fader say No! vile he live and vile he die, he not drink any more ze +beer; and he kiss Jeem and he kiss Fred and he kiss me, and he tell my +moder dot ven he sell ze vatch, he vill bring ze money, and he vill get +ze fire, and he vill get ze meat and ze bread. Zen my moder ce get him +ze vatch, and he go avay.</p> + +<p>"Long time he not come. Zen long time in ze night he come, and he bring +ze bread mit him, but he have drunk ze beer. My moder tell him dot he +have, and he say dot he have not; but all ze time hees head go von vay +and von vay, and some ze vords he speak, and some ze vords he not speak. +My moder ce tell him, Vare ze money vot he get mit ze vatch? and he say +dot he have not ze money, dot he not sell ze vatch. Zen my moder say, +Vare ze vatch den? and he say dot he have loss it, dot vile he sell it, +von man get it! But my moder say No, he have got ze money and he have +drunk ze beer mit ze bad men, ce know he have. Zen my fader strike her +von time and von time; and ven ce go on ze floor, he strike her dare mit +hees feets, and ce not move, like ce be dead, and he say he vill kill +her, he vill, he vill! And Jeem scream and Fred scream, and my fader get +ze big knife vot he cut ze bread mit, and he lif it vay high, and say +loud much times dot he vill kill zem all! But ze men vot vatch in ze +night come in, and ven zey see my fader dare mit ze knife, zey put ze +chain on hees feets and on hees hands, and zey go avay mit him. And +quick von man come back mit ze doctor, and ven, mit hees leetle knife, +he have make my moder's arm bleed, ce speak, and ce say, Vare my fader +be? and ze man tell her dot zey have lock him up, and he vill be hang +mit ze rope; and my moder ce cry, and long time ce bees sick in ze bed."</p> +<br> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>"Did your mother come from Italy, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; ven my fader have not drunk ze beer, he make ze peoples mit ze +brush; and he go in Italy, and ven he have make my moder dare mit ze +brush, ce love him, and ce run away mit him ven her moder not know it. +And ven ce come in Germany, von oder time he make her mit ze brush, and +ce hang on ze vall; and Jeem he make, and Fred he make mit ze brush, and +zey hang on ze vall. Much ze peoples he make mit ze brush, and zey give +him ze money. Me he not make, but my moder ce make me mit ze leetle +brush; but ven I bees made, I not hang on ze vall, I bees sut like ze +book. And ce make Jeem dot vay, and Fred dot vay, and ce keep zem. Von +time my fader go to ze drawer, and he get zem all, and he go avay and he +sell zem, and he get ze money; and ven my moder know it, ce come vare ze +man be vot have buy zem, and I come mit her, and ce give him ze ring fon +her fing-er, and ce get me back and ce hide me.</p> + +<p>"Von time my fader have sell my moder vot hang on ze vall, and ze man +come dare, and my fader have take her down, and Jeem cry and Fred cry; +and Fred say let hees go, and Jeem say let hees go, but my moder say no, +and ze man go avay mit her."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Jakey, how long did they keep your father locked up there +with the chains on him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! big long time; and von time my granfader come dare, and my moder +bees sick in ze bed; ce not get vell vare my fader have strike her; and +my granfader tell her dot ze man vot sit vay high in ze seat have said +<i>ze vord</i>, dot my fader go vay off, and be lock up mit ze dark and mit +ze chains on him, vile he live and vile he die. Zen my moder say ce vill +go vare he be. My granfader lif her, and ce get up, and I come mit zem. +And ven my moder come dare, ce go to ze man vot have said <i>ze vord</i>, and +ce tell him dot he vill let my fader go, he vill, <i>he vill!</i> And ce say +dot ce vill die, if he not let my fader go, and ce cry; and ce tell ze +man vot sit vay high in ze chair, dot he vill let him go? but ze man say +No, he have said <i>ze vord</i>. Zen my moder go down vare my fader be mit ze +chains on him, and ven ce come dare, ce scream, and ce fall on ze ground, +like ce be dead. Zen my granfader say dot I go tell ze man dot he vill +let my fader go, and ven my granfader bring me, and I come dare, I tink +I say dot; but I tell him dot he vill not kill my moder, and I cry, <i>too +loud</i> I cry. Zen ze man go <i>vay high</i> on hees feets mit his hand on my +head, and he say some vords to ze men vot bees dare, and he say some +vords to my granfader. Zen he go roun on his feets and he say some vords +to my fader. He tell him, dot he vill be good? dot he vill not drink ze +beer? dot he vill vork? dot he vill make ze peoples mit ze brush? dot he +vill love my moder, and get ze bread and ze fire and ze meat? and my +fader say he vill, he vill! Zen ze man vot have said <i>ze vord</i> tell my +fader dot he may go; and quick von oder man take ze chains fon hees +feets and fon hees hands, and he bees too glad; and he lif up my moder, +and he sake her dot ce speak, and he love her, and he come avay mit her. +And my granfader bring me; I come mit him in hees arms, and vile my +granfader valk, he cry.</p> + +<p>"Ven it bees night, ze big man vot sit vay high in ze chair and vot have +said <i>ze vord</i>, come to ze house, and he see my moder dare in ze bed; +and he talk mit her, and he talk mit my fader, and he say some vords mit +Jeem and mit Fred, and he hold me on hees lap.</p> + +<p>"Long time he stay dare, and ven he go vay, he tell my fader, if he vill +make him mit ze brush? and my fader say dot he vill. Zen much times he +come dare, and ven my fader have make him big all aroun, fon hees feets +to hees head, mit ze chair vot he sit in vay high, ven he say <i>ze vord</i>, +he give my fader much ze money, much money he give; and my fader get ze +fire mit it, and ze bread and ze meat; and he love my moder, and he love +Jeem, and he love Fred, and me he love.</p> + +<p>"Zen my moder sing, but ce have not ze harp, and ce have not ze piano; +and my fader sing mit her; and much ze peoples he make mit ze brush; and +my moder ce help him, all ze time ce help him, and Jeem and Fred zey +help; zey grind ze tings vot he make ze peoples mit. Von time I help; +ven Fred bees gone, I vash ze brushes, and my moder say dot I have make +zem clean so better as Fred. And all ze time I rock ze baby in ze leetle +bed, and I sing ze song vot my moder make ze baby sleep mit."</p> + +<p>"Did your father stay always good, Jakey, and did he never drink the +beer any more?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! no," he answered, with an earnestness that chilled my very heart, +and made me feel that he had not yet told me half the sorrow shut up in +his little bosom; and while, with tears in my eyes, I tried to encourage +him to go on, I felt almost guilty, and was about deciding to probe his +little heart no more, when of his own accord he resumed.</p> + +<p>"Von time my fader say dot he vill go to ze man mit ze pic-sure vot he +have make, and he vill get ze money; and my moder say dot ce vill go mit +him; but my fader say No, he vill go mit hees-self, and ven he have got +ze money, he vill come home to ze supper. But long time he not come. +Jeem he go in ze bed, and Fred he go in ze bed, and I go in ze leetle +bed, and my moder ce have ze baby mit her to ze fire.</p> + +<p>"Zen long time my fader come to ze door, and vile he come, he say loud +ze vicked vords, and my moder know dot he have drunk ze beer. Quick ce +go to ze vindow, and ven ce see him, ce cry and ce bees afraid, and ce +not open ze door. Zen my fader tink he have not fine ze door, and he go +vay roun ze house, and tink he have fine ze door dare; and he strike, +and he pound, and all ze time he say loud ze vicked vords. Zen he come +back to ze door, and he strike it mit hees feets much times, and ven ze +door come open and he see my moder dare, he strike her dot ce fall on ze +floor mit ze baby. Ze baby cry, but my moder ce not speak, and ce not +cry. Zen my fader strike her much times mit hees feets, dot ce not open +ze door, and he go vay to get ze big knife, and he say dot he vill kill +her. Long time he not fine it; zen vile he come back he not see, and he +fall on ze floor, and some ze vay he get up and some ze vay he not get +up, and all ze time he say dot he vill kill, he vill, he vill! But all +ze time he not kill, he have not ze knife; and he have drunk too much ze +beer, dot he not get up. Zen long time hees head go down on ze floor, +and he sleep, and he make big noise mit hees nose.</p> + +<p>"Zen I come out ze leetle bed, and I go on ze floor, and ven I come vare +my moder be, I sake her and I sake her, but ce not speak. Zen I come to +ze bed vare Jeem be, and I sake him, and I tell him dot my fader have +kill my moder. Quick Jeem come dare, and he lif her up; and Fred come +out ze bed, and he get ze baby; and Jeem put ze vater on my moder, and +he sake her much times, and ce vake, and ce sit up in ze chair mit ze +baby. And ce tell Jeem dot he get ze blanket fon ze bed and he put it on +my fader, and he lif hees head, and he put under ze pillow.</p> + +<p>"Jeem and Fred zey go in ze bed, and I go in ze leetle bed, but all ze +time my moder ce sit up dare in ze chair, mit ze baby, to ze fire, and +ce cry and ce cry."</p> +<br> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>"In ze morning my moder tell my fader dot ce vill go back to Italy, mit +her moder; and my fader say dot ce may, but ce not go.</p> + +<p>"Ze peoples come, but my fader bees not dare, and he not make zem any +more mit ze brush, but some my moder make.</p> + +<p>"All ze time my fader go vay, and he drink ze beer mit ze bad men; and +ze fire he not get, and he not get ze bread, and too much he strike.</p> + +<p>"Von time my moder tell my fader dot ce vill come in ze America, and ce +vill make ze peoples dare mit ze brush, and ce vill get ze money, and ce +vill live; and my fader say dot ce may. Zen my moder say dot ce vill +take ze boys mit her; and my fader say No, he keep ze boys mit him. My +moder say No, ce take ze boys mit her; and my fader say No, he keep ze +boys mit him. Zen my moder say ce vill take ze baby and her little blind +boy mit her, and ce vill come in ze America; and my fader say dot ce may.</p> + +<p>"Zen my moder sell ze ring fon her fing-er, and some ze money ce get, +and some ze money my granfader give her. Zen ce make me mit ze brush. I +sit up in ze chair, and ce look at me, and ce make me all roun mit ze +flowers. Ce make my curls go roun her fing-er, and zen ce make zem mit +ze brush in ze pic-sure, and ce make me mit vings; and ce make in my +hand vot ze boys shoot mit,—not ze gun vot make ze big noise and vot +kill, but ze bow mit ze tring, I not know vot you call it."</p> + +<p>"The bow and arrow, Jakey."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dot bees it, ze bow and ze arrow; and von time Jeem have shoot +Fred mit it in hees back, and he cry, and he come and he tell my moder +dot Jeem have kill him.</p> + +<p>"Ven I bees done, ven my moder have make me, von lady ce come dare and +ce tell my moder, Vot ce make? and my moder tell her dot ce make me mit +ze brush, and ce vill sell me, and ce vill get ze money, and ce vill +come in ze America. Zen von oder day ze lady come dare, and ce give my +moder much ze money, and ce take ze pic-sure avay mit her; and ven ce +have go mit it, my moder ce cry and ce cry.</p> + +<p>"Von day my granfader come dare mit ze carriage, and Jeem he go in ze +carriage, and Fred he go in, and my moder ce come in mit ze baby. My +granfader bring me, and he come in, and ze carriage come vay down to +ze—I not know vot you call it, but it bees von big house on ze vater."</p> + +<p>"A ship, Jakey."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ze ship, mit ze trees vay high, and on ze trees, Fred say, long +tings go vay out like ze sheet; and ze vinds blow in zem, and ze ship ce +go and ce go. My moder ce come in ze ship mit ze baby in von arm, and my +granfader bring me, and Jeem and Fred bees dare; and my granfader say +zey vill go, dot ze ship not come avay mit zem. Zen my moder ce kiss +Jeem and ce kiss Fred, von time and von time, and ce cry and ce cry; and +ce tell zem dot zey vill be good, and ven ce get ze money, ce vill send +it, and zey vill come in ze America mit her. Jeem say dot ven he bees a +man, he vill come in ze America; and Fred say dot he vill come in ze +America ven he bees not a man,—ven he get ze money he come, and he vill +get it.</p> + +<p>"My moder ce kiss zem much times, and ce cry too hard dot ce leave zem. +And ce tell my granfader dot he vill not give my fader ze beer? and my +granfader say, No, he not give him, but he vill get it; and my granfader +cry ven he say dot. And my moder tell him dot ven my fader have not ze +money, he vill keep him in ze house mit him? and my granfader say dot he +vill, and he vill keep Jeem and he vill keep Fred mit him, and he vill +make zem go in ze school. Zen my moder tank my granfader much times, and +ce kiss him, and ce kiss Jeem, and ce kiss Fred; and zey kiss me, and +zey kiss ze baby, and zey kiss my moder; and zey cry and zey go avay, +and my moder ce scream and ce cry. Zen my granfader leave Jeem and Fred, +and he come back, and he tell my moder dot ce not cry; much vords he +tell her. Zen he go avay, and ze vinds blow, and ze ship ce go and ce go.</p> + +<p>"Long time ze ship go, much days and much nights. And von time ze vinds +blow too hard, and ze ship go von vay and von vay, and ze vaters come +vay high, and ze vinds make big noise, and it tunder, like ze sky break; +and von ze trees have come crash down on ze ship, and all ze peoples cry, +Gott im Himmel! Gott im Himmel! and all ze time zey cry, and zey tink +dot zey go vay down in ze deep. My moder ce be kneeled down, mit ze baby +in von arm and mit me in von arm, and ce not cry, but all ze time ce +pray and ce pray; and vile ce pray, ze ship come crash on ze rock, and +much ze peoples go vay down in ze vater, and too much zey cry, too loud. +Zen my moder have tie ze baby mit her shawl, and me ce hold mit von arm, +and mit von arm ce hold on ze ship. Von time ze vater, ven it come vay +high, take me avay, and my moder have loss me, and too loud ce scream, +and von man dare he get me fon ze vater mit my hair, and long time he +hold me mit his arm.</p> + +<p>"Ven it bees morning, and ze vater not come vay high, and ze vinds not +blow, von oder ship come dare vot have not ze sail, but ce have von big +fire, and all ze time ce go, <i>burrh! burrh!</i> and all ze peoples vot have +not go vay down mit ze fishes come in dot ship, and zey get ze bread +dare, and zey get ze meat dare, and much tings zey get dare.</p> + +<p>"Long time zey go in dot ship, and ven zey see ze America, zey come in +von oder leetle ship vot have no tree, vot have no sail, and vot have no +fire, but ze men have ze long sticks, and zey go <i>so</i>, and zey go <i>so</i>" +(imitating men rowing, with his little hands).</p> + +<p>"How did you know that, Jakey; you could not see them?"</p> + +<p>"No, I not see zem, but my moder ce tell me; and ven ze leetle boat have +come close up in ze America, mit ze baby in von arm and mit me in von +arm, my moder come out ze leetle boat, and ven ce have valk some ze vay, +ce go down on ze ground and ce pray and ce cry. Not ce feel bad dot ce +come in ze America, but ce bees too glad dot ce have not go vay down in +ze deep mit ze fishes, and ze baby and me mit her dare, vare von big +fish be, vot eat ze peoples."</p> + +<p>"Were you not afraid, Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"No, I not cry. My moder ce be dare, and ce hold me tight, and I tink +Gott hear my moder vot ce pray."</p> +<br> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<p>"Where did your mother go, Jakey, when she first came into this country? +where did she stop?"</p> + +<p>"I not know ze place vare," he said, "but ce go mit ze peoples in von +big house, up ze steps vay high and ce stay dare. And ven ze bells ring, +and von Sunday have come, ze baby, ce be dead. I not know zen vot dead +mean. I not know ce bees cold; and too quick I take my hand avay, and I +tell my moder dot ce bring ze baby to ze fire. My moder say, No, ze fire +not varm her, ce bees dead, and ze man vill come and put her avay in ze +ground; and my moder ce cry and ce cry. And vile ce cry, ze man come mit +ze box, and he pull ze baby fon my moder, and quick he put her in ze +box; and ven he make ze nail drive, my moder cry like ce die.</p> + +<p>"My moder ce stay dare in ze big house, and von day ce go to fine ze +peoples vot ce vill make mit ze brush, and von oder day ce go to fine ze +peoples, and von oder day ce go. Zen von day ce go to fine ze place vare +ce vill live; and ven ce come back, ce say dot ce have fine it, and in +ze morning ce vill go dare mit me. But in ze night, all ze time ce talk, +and ce not know vare ce be. Some ze time ce tink ce bees in Germany mit +my fader, and ce tink he have drunk ze beer, and he vill kill her. Some +ze time ce tink ce bees in Italy mit her moder, and ce have not run avay +mit my fader. And some ze time ce tink ce bees in ze ship, and ze vinds +blow too hard, and ze tree come crash down. Zen all ze time ce say Vater, +vater, vater! but ce have not ze vater, and ce bees hot, too hot. Ven ce +touch me, I tink ce burn me, and ce go up in ze bed, and ce pull ze +blanket and ze tings, and all ze time ce say Vater, vater, vater! And I +cry dot I not fine ze vater. I scream, I fine ze door, but it not open. +I call ze voman, but ce not come; all ze day ce not come, all ze night +ce not come; and all ze time my moder ce burn, burn, and all ze time ce +say Vater, vater, vater! I call her, but ce not know vot I say; ce not +see me; ce not know vare ce be; and ven I cry ce not hear me. All ze +time ce talk and ce talk.</p> + +<p>"Zen dot morning ze man come dare, and ven he see my moder, he go quick +avay; and von man come mit someting vot he give my moder, and vot ce +drink, and ven ce have drink it, ce sleep. Long time ce sleep, and ven +ce vake, ce know vare ce be, and ce know vot ce say. Zen ce put her hand +on my head, and ce kiss me,—much times ce kiss me; and ce say dot ce +die, and ce go im Himmel mit ze baby. Zen I cry; and ce tell me dot I +not cry, dot Gott vill come von time, and he vill bring me im Himmel mit +her and mit ze baby. He vill, ce know he vill.</p> + +<p>"Zen ce not talk, and I tink ce be sleep; and I sake her and I sake her, +but ce not move. I put my fing-er on her eyes, but zey not open; and I +call her and I call her, but ce not hear; and I kiss her and I kiss her, +but ce not know it. I sake her, but ce not vake; and ven I feel dot ce +bees cold, I know dot ce bees dead, like ze baby, and I scream and I +scream. I call ze voman, I call ze man, but zey not come, zey not hear. +Zen long time ze voman ce come, and ven ce open ze door ce pull me avay +quick fon my moder, and ce pull me up ze stair, von stair and von stair. +Zen ce push me in ze room, and ce lock ze door, and ce take ze key avay +mit her. Zen I push ze door and I scream, all ze time I scream. I say +dot I vill go mit my moder, I vill, I vill!"</p> +<br> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<p>"Long time, vile I cry dare, Meme come, and ce say von vord in ze +keyhole. I not know vot ce say, but I say dot I will go mit my moder, +but ce not hear me. And ce say von oder time in ze keyhole, Little boy, +cause vy you cry? Zen I come dare, and I say in ze keyhole dot I shall +go mit my moder, dot ze voman have lock me up, and ce have take ze key +avay mit her. Zen Meme tell me dot I not cry, ce know vare ze key be, +and ce vill get it. Zen quick ce run avay, and ce come back mit ze key, +and ce put ze key in ze keyhole, and ce go vay high on her feets, and ce +push and ce push, but ze door not open. Zen ce take ze key out, and Meme +say von vord in ze keyhole, and I say von vord in ze keyhole. Zen ce put +ze key in ze keyhole von oder time, and ce go vay high on her feets, and +ce push and ce push, and ze door come open; and ven Meme see me dare, ce +say, Vy! little boy, you not see! No, I say, I not see. Zen ce say dot +ce vill come mit me vare my moder be, and ce take hold my hand, and ven +ce have come down von stair, and von step and von step, ze voman ce be +dare; and ce tell Meme dot ce go back, dot ce vill vip her. Zen Meme ce +come up ze stair, and ce pull von vay and I pull von vay, and I say dot +I go mit my moder, I vill, I vill! and I cry. Zen Meme ce tell me dot I +not cry, and ce say low, dot ven ze voman have go avay, ce vill come +back mit me. Zen I not cry, and I go up ze steps mit Meme; and ven I not +hear ze voman, and Meme not see her, ce come back mit me; von step and +von step ce pull me, all ze steps quick down ce pull me, and ven ce come +on ze floor, quick ce come to ze door vare my moder be, and ce make it +go open; and ven ce see my moder dare, ce cry. But I not cry; I go to ze +bed, vare ce be, and ven I feel her mit my hands, I tell Meme dot ce be +not my moder, ce have not ze curls; and Meme say dot ze voman have cut +zem; dot ce have cut ze curls fon her moder, ven ce vas dead, and ce +have sell zem, and ce get ze money.</p> + +<p>"Zen ze man come mit ze box, and he push Meme, dot ce go avay; and Meme +ce pull me, but I say dot I not come, dot I stay mit my moder. Zen ze +man push me, and he sut ze door, and I scream, I scream! Zen Meme tell +me dot I not cry, dot ze voman vill hear, and ce vill come and ce vill +vip her. Zen I not cry too loud, and I come mit Meme up ze stair; and +ven ce come to ze room, ce go avay, and ce bring me von cake in von hand, +and von opple in von hand; and ce kiss me, and ce tell me dot ce love +me; and ce say dot her moder have die, and ze voman have got ze gold fon +her moder, and ze vatch, and ze locket, mit ze chain, vot have her fader +and her moder in it, and all ze tings. And Meme say dot her moder come +to ze America dot ce fine her fader, but ce have die ven ce not fine +him; and ven ce say dot, ce cry, and vile ce cry, ze voman come dare; +and ce pull Meme, and ce tell her go avay. And ce lock ze door von oder +time, and ce take ze key avay mit her; and ven I bees alone, I cry, I +cry.</p> + +<p>"Zen long time ze voman come back, and ce lif me on her lap; and ven ce +make my curls come roun her fing-er, like my moder, I tink ce bees good; +but zen I hear ze shear cut, and quick I put my hand, and vile ce cut ze +curls, ce cut my fing-er dot it bleed, and von curl and von curl ce have +cut. Zen much I scream, loud I scream. I call my moder, I call Meme. I +say dot I not have my curls cut, my moder say I not. Zen ze voman ce +sake me too hard, and ce push me dot I fall, and ce go avay; and ce lock +ze door, and ce take ze key avay mit her. All ze time I cry, and I hold +my curls mit von hand and mit von hand; and ven I have cry too much, I +sleep on ze floor, and I not know it; and long time, ven I vake, ze +voman have come dare, and vile I sleep, ce have cut all ze curls. Some I +cry, zen some I not cry; I tink vot my moder have say, dot Gott vill +come, and he vill bring me im Himmel mit her and mit ze baby, and all ze +time I tink, Vill he come? Vile I tink, Meme ce come, and ce take hold +my hand, and ce tell me dot ce have see ze voman cut ze curls, and ce +say dot I come avay mit her; and ven I come in ze room mit Meme, ze +voman ce be dare, and ce say some vords. Meme know vot ce say, I not +know; but I stay dare mit Meme, and I sleep in ze leetle bed mit Meme, +and I say ze prayer vot Meme say.</p> + +<p>"All ze time in ze day Meme go up to ze vindow, and votch dot her fader +come; and ven ze bell ring to ze door, ce tink dot he have come, and +quick ce run, but he have not come.</p> + +<p>"Von time von man come dare, and vile he mend ze vindow, he talk mit +Meme, and ven ce tell him vot her name be, he say dot he know her fader, +dot he have see him, and dot he vill tell him vare ce be. Zen Meme ce +hop and ce jump and ce laugh, and ce be too glad. All ze days ce go up +to ze vindow, and ce look and ce look; and ze voman put on Meme von oder +frock. Ce give Meme ze locket, and ce give her much tings, ven ce tink +dot Meme's fader come. But much days he not come; and von time ze voman +vill take avay ze locket fon Meme, and ven Meme say dot ce not give it, +dot ce have got ze gold fon her moder, and ze vatch, and all ze tings, +ce strike Meme.</p> + +<p>"Zen ven it bees dark, ze voman come avay mit Meme and mit me in von +oder big house, vare much ze girls and much ze boys be vot have no fader +and vot have no moder; and ven ze voman have talk mit ze lady dare, ce +go avay, but ce leave Meme dare, and ce leave me dare. Long time Meme +stay dare, and I stay dare. Meme go in ze school, and I go in ze school, +mit ze boys and mit ze girls. And Meme read mit zem ze English, and ven +ce learn ze vords, ce tell me ze vords, and ven I know ze vords, I talk +mit zem, and Meme talk mit zem.</p> + +<p>"Ze lady dare be good, but all ze time, ven Meme go in ze bed, ce cry +dot her fader not come, and dot ce not fine him.</p> + +<p>"Von time ven it bees cold, too cold, and ze vinds blow, Meme say dot ce +go, dot ce fine her fader, dot ce know vare he be; and ven ze lady not +know it, ce get her bonnet and ce get her shawl, and ce kiss me much +times; and ce say dot ven ce come back, ce vill bring her fader mit her, +and ce vill take me avay; and zen ven nobody see, ce go out. Long time +ce go, and ven it bees night, ce have not come back.</p> + +<p>"Ze lady come and ce tell me, Vare is Meme? and I tell ze lady ce go dot +ce fine her fader. Zen ze lady tell ze man dot he go and he fine Meme; +and ven long time ze man not come back, ze lady ce go; but zey not fine +her.</p> + +<p>"In ze morning von man come dare, and he bring Meme mit him in hees +arms; and von her hand be freezed, and von her feet be freezed, and Meme +cry; and ce tell ze lady dot vile ce fine her fader, ce have loss ze vay, +and ce bees cold, and ce go up ze step to von door, but zey not let her +come in; and ce go up ze step to von oder door, but zey not let her come +in. All ze time ce do dot: ce go up and ce go up, but zey not let her +come in, and some ze time zey sut ze door, ven zey not know vot ce say. +Zen ce bees too cold, and vile ce vait by von door, ce sleep on ze +stone; and ze man vot vatch in ze street, he fine her dare all vite mit +ze snow. He bring her avay to hees place, and he varm her, and ce cry +and ce cry; and in ze morning von man bring her home to ze lady; and +long time Meme bees in ze bed, and ce bees sick, and ce cough,—much +ce cough.</p> + +<p>"Much times ze doctor come dare, and he give Meme ze medicine, but ce +not get vell; and von time, ven I go to ze bed vare ce be, ce tell me +dot ce die. Zen I cry, and Meme cry; and ce tell me dot ven her fader +come, I vill tell him dot ze voman have got ze gold fon her moder, and +ce have got ze locket, and ze vatch, and all ze tings. Zen Meme kiss me, +and ce tell me dot I vill tell her fader dot ce love me, and dot he vill +take me avay mit him; and vile Meme say dot, ce cry and ce cough. Zen +quick ce not cough, and too quick ze lady come dare; and ven ce call +Meme, Meme ce not hear,—ce have go im Himmel, ce have die, ce be dead. +Ze lady cry; and all ze girls and ze boys come in, and ven zey see Meme +dare, zey cry. Zen ze lady ce make nice tings, and ce put zem on Meme, +all vite like ze snow; and von man bring dare ze box vot zey put Meme in, +and it bees smooth like ze glass, and it open vare her face be; and all +ze girls and ze boys see Meme, ven ce bees in ze box all vite. And von +oder lady dare vot love Meme and vot teach her ze English, put ze +flowers in ze box mit Meme; and ce kiss her, and I kiss her, and ze lady +kiss her; and ze man make ze box tight, and he go avay off mit Meme, and +he put her in ze ground.</p> + +<p>"Long time I stay dare, and Meme's fader not come; but von day von good +man come dare, and he lif me vay high in hees arms, and ven I feel him +mit my hands, he have von big hat, mit no hair on hees head, and mit no +but-tens on hees coat. Some English he speak, and some English he not +speak. All ze time he say zee and zou, zee and zou; and ven he say dot +he love me, and dot he vill take me avay mit him, I tink he bees +Gott,—dot he have come, and he vill take me im Himmel mit my moder, and +mit ze baby, and mit Meme, and I hold him tight aroun mit my arms; and +zen ze lady say dot I go, and ce tell me Good-by, too quick I take my +hand avay,—I tink dot ce keep me.</p> + +<p>"Zen ze good man come mit me in hees carriage, and he make hees coat +come roun me; and ven he come to hees house, he go up ze steps mit me in +hees arms; and ven he have ring ze bell, ze lady come to ze door, and ze +good man tell her dot he have got me. Zen he stand my feets down on ze +floor, and he come mit ze tring, and he make it go roun me, and he make +it how long I bees; and he make hees fing-er go on my feets, and he make +ze tring go roun my head.</p> + +<p>"Zen ze lady take me down ze stair, and ze voman dare put me in ze vater, +and ce vash me and ce vash and ce vash; zen ce vipe and ce vipe; zen ce +comb and ce comb, and ce make my curls come roun her fing-er. Zen ze +good man have come back, and he bring mit him von leetle coat, and ze +sirt and ze trouser vot I have, and ze stockings and ze shoes and ze +hat; and ze lady ce put zem on me, and ce put von leetle hankchief in my +pocket; and ce bring someting vot smell like ze rose, and ce spill it on +my head, and ce spill it on my hands and on my hankchief, and ce vet my +face mit it. Zen ze lady ce kiss me much times, much times ce kiss; and +ze good man kiss me, and he lif me in hees arms, and he come avay mit me +up ze stair to ze parlor, and ze lady bring me ze cake.</p> + +<p>"Georgy come fon ze school, and Mary come fon ze school, and Franky, and +ven zey talk, zey say zee and zou.</p> + +<p>"I love ze good man, and I love ze lady; but I know dot ze good man bees +not Gott, dot he not take me im Himmel mit my moder, and mit ze baby, +and mit Meme. But he love me dare; and Georgy love me, he give me ze +pennies in my pocket; and Mary love me, ce kiss me much times; and +Franky say dot he vill give me hees horse vot go vay up and vay down, +but he not valk, he have not ze life. He bees von vood horse, mit ze +bridle and mit ze saddle on him, and Franky's fader have buy him to ze +store; and much times Franky ride on him, and I ride on him."</p> +<br> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<p>Usually, when Little Jakey stopped his sweet talk, it was like the +running down of a music-box, but not always as easy to set him going +again. Besides, at the close of the last chapter he seemed to think his +story ended, and put up his face for a kiss, as much as to say, Now +please love me a little, and not tease me any more. So I yielded to his +mood, and petted him awhile; wound his curls around my finger, and +talked with him about everything likely to amuse him, until coming to a +little pause in the conversation, I said,—</p> + +<p>"How long did you stay with those <i>thee</i> and <i>thou</i> friends, Jakey? How +long did the good man keep you with him in his house?"</p> + +<p>"O, big long time I stay dare," he said, "and von time I come mit Mary +in ze school vare ce go, and all ze Sundays ze lady and ze good man say +dot I come mit zem all to ze Meeting. I love Mary; ce give me ze flowers, +and I sleept mit her in ze bed; and all ze time I go mit her in ze +garden, and ce tell me ze vords and ze flowers vot I not know.</p> + +<p>"Much times ven ze peoples come dare vot say zee and zou, ze good man +lif me in hees arms, and he tell me dot I talk mit zem, and much zey +kiss me. Von time von man give me in my pocket ze big moneys, and zen +Mary ce come mit me to ze store, and ce sell zem, and ce buy me ze coat +mit ze but-tens, vot I vear in ze Meeting. And ven I go to ze Meeting, +Mary ce tie ze ribbon roun my hat, and ce bruss me, and ce vash me, and +ce make my curls come roun her fing-er, like my moder; and ce valk mit +me to ze Meeting, and all ze time I sit mit her dare.</p> + +<p>"Von day, ven ze good man say dot he bring me here in ze Institution, +vare I read ze letters mit my fing-er, Mary say dot ce vill come mit me, +and Georgy say dot he come; and Franky say dot he come; and Franky's +fader say dot he may, and zey all come in ze carriage, and ze lady come. +Ven zey go avay I not go mit zem, I stay here. Von time Mary have come +here, and ce kiss me much times, and ce bring me ze flowers, and ce +bring me ze cakes; and ven ce go avay ce cry, and ce say dot ce vill +come von oder time, and ce vill bring Franky mit her. But ce have not +come; von day ce vill come.</p> + +<p>"Vill Gott know vare I bees, and vill he fine me here, ven he come? My +moder say dot he vill come, and I know he vill."</p> +<br> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<p>Two days after these sweet words, to my surprise, I found Little Jakey +pillowed in an arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" I exclaimed, "what has happened to this dear treasure? Are +you sick, Little Jakey?"</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, hardly able to speak, "I not sick, but I have got ze +pain in my life," placing his little hand on his chest, "dot bees all. +Vile I hear ze birds sing in ze park, I not know it, and I sleep on ze +ground; and vile I sleep I tink my moder and ze baby, and Meme mit her, +come vare I be. I tink zey all come fon Himmel, and I see zem, and I +talk mit zem, and zey talk mit me, and zey say dot I vill go mit zem; +but ven I vake I bees sleep on ze ground, and ze big rains have come +down, and zey have vet me too vet, and I bees too cold; and ven I tink I +come to ze house, I not fine ze vay; and I have got ze pain in my head, +and ze pain in my neck. Long time I not fine ze vay; zen long time +Bridget ce come, and ce bring me to ze house, and ce put me in ze bed; +and in ze night I have got ze pain in my life."</p> + +<p>I knelt down before the dear, stricken lamb, and blaming my neglect of +him, I kissed him many times, and tried to smooth the pain from his +little brow; but what I felt, words can never speak.</p> + +<p>The next morning Little Jakey was regularly installed in the sick-room.</p> + +<p>Days passed, but the doctors would not say that they thought him any +better. Some days, however, he was able to be pillowed up in an +arm-chair, and amuse himself a little with the toys the children were +constantly bringing him; for by this time the desire to do something for +Little Jakey had come to pervade the whole house.</p> + +<p>Once, sitting by his little bed, I discovered that he was trying very +hard to keep awake, and I said to him softly,—</p> + +<p>"Dear Jakey, why do you not shut those sweet eyes of yours, and go to +sleep? Surely you must be sleepy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I tink I not sleep. Vile I sleep, ze pain make me groan, and +Mattie ce hear me, and ce not sleep."</p> + +<p>Mattie was then very sick also, and lying on a little bed not far from +his.</p> + +<p>One day Mr. Artman, a German, called on Jakey, who asked for his little +box of moneys, which had been presented to him mostly by visitors, and +placing it in Mr. Artman's hand, he said to him, in his own sweet way,—</p> + +<p>"You vill keep ze leetle box mit you. Von time Jeem and Fred vill come +in ze America, and ven zey come, you vill give ze big money to Jeem, and +ze leetle moneys to Fred; and you vill tell zem dot I have go im Himmel +mit my moder, and mit ze baby, and mit Meme."</p> +<br> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<p>One warm day when I visited Little Jakey his bed had been drawn around +facing the window, and I found him sitting bolstered up there, with his +long black curls lying out on the pillows.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said I, "I have brought you a bouquet, and let us pull it +into pieces and see what we can make of it."</p> + +<p>Soon Little Jakey's bed was strewn over with the flowers. I do not +remember ever having seen him so cheerful as he was that evening. Making +a little hoop from a piece of wire, I twined him a wreath, while he +amused himself handing me the flowers for it, and feeling over their +soft leaves, and asking their names. Whether large or small, he never +asked the name of the same kind of flower but once. When we placed it on +his little head,—</p> + +<p>"Vy!" he exclaimed, "von time my moder have vear ze flowers like dis. Ce +go vare von lady sing vot have come fon Italy; my fader go mit her dare. +And von time ze lady come to my moder's house, and ce sing to ze harp, +and ce sing to ze piano, and my moder and my fader sing mit her; and ce +stay dare to ze supper, and much peoples come to ze supper."</p> + +<p>I remained with Little Jakey that night, and when all were still, and +the night taper was glimmering faintly through the room, I felt his +little hand pull mine, as if he would draw me closer to him.</p> + +<p>"What, dear?" I said, stooping over him.</p> + +<p>"I tink I die," he whispered; "I tink I go im Himmel mit my moder, and +mit ze baby, and mit Meme."</p> + +<p>"Why, Jakey," I asked, coaxingly, "what makes you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Vy, ven ze baby die, ce be sick; and ven my moder die, ce be sick; and +ven Meme die, ce be sick; and I be sick, and I tink I die."</p> + +<p>"So you are, very sick indeed, dear Jakey," I said; "but you will not be +sorry to die, will you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"No, I not sorry; but all ze time I tink, How vill it be? Ven Gott take +me im Himmel, vill he come mit me in ze leetle boat? zen vill he come +mit me in ze big boat, mit ze big fire? and zen vill he come in ze big +ship, mit ze tree vay high, and mit ze sail? and ven ze vinds blow too +hard, and ze ship come crash on ze rock, and all ze peoples cry, vill +Gott hold me tight in hees arms, like my moder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you dear, dear child," I said, "God will surely keep you close in +his arms always, and when you come where he is, dear Jakey, your sweet +eyes will have the light in them. You will see the stars then, and the +angels, and all the good people who have gone to heaven from this world, +and God, and his dear Son, Jesus. You know about him, do you not? He +loves little children."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know him," he said; "my moder have tell me dot von time he have +come fon Himmel in ze vorld, and ze wicked men have kill him; zey have +nail him to ze tree; and my moder say dot Jazu be ze Lord, and dot he +love ze little children, and von time he have lif zem in hees arms; and +he say dot he love zem all, and dot he vill bring zem im Himmel mit him, +ven zey bees good. Meme ce know him too, and much times ce talk mit him +in ze prayer vot ce say; and ce say dot he hear her, ce know he do. Ze +good man know him, and much he talk mit him in ze Meeting; but to ze +table he not talk, he tink mit him, mit hees hands so (crossing his own +little ones, as if in the act of devotion). Georgy do dot vay, and +Franky, and zey all; and Mary tell me, and I do dot vay."</p> + +<p>After a little, he asked again with great earnestness,—</p> + +<p>"How vill it be? If Gott not know ven I die, and if he bees not here, +vill zey keep me von day and von day, vile he come?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, dear Jakey," I said; "but God will be here. He is here now. Let +me explain it to you. God is a great Spirit, and he is everywhere. You +have a little spirit in you, too, Jakey, that makes you talk and think +and feel; now, while your spirit is shut up in your little body here, it +cannot see God, but when this little body dies, your spirit will come +out, and then it will see God, and see everything, and have wings and +rise up, like the angels, and fly away to heaven, or Himmel, as you call +it."</p> + +<p>I was wondering what Little Jakey was thinking of this, when, after a +moment, he exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Vy! ven my moder have make me in ze pic-sure, ce make me mit vings, but +ce not say dot I have ze vings, ven I come im Himmel. Heaven bees in +America, but Himmel bees in Germany. My moder go dare, and ce say dot +Gott vill come, and he vill bring me mit him dare, vare ce be. I vish I +come dare now!"</p> + +<p>"Darling, you must shut your sweet eyes now and go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "ven I sut my eyes, zey not sut, and ven I tink I sleep, +I not sleep. I bees cold; too cold I bees. I tink I die; I tink I go im +Himmel now mit my moder, and mit ze baby, and mit Meme. Vill Gott come, +and vill he fine me here? How vill it be? How—vill—it—be?"</p> + +<p>We sprang to him, and, leaning over his little form, felt that his pulse +was really still, and his sweet breath hushed forever.</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/19.gif" alt="stop6"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story6"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/20.gif" alt="banner7"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE LOST CHILD.</h3> +<center>BY HENRY KINGSLEY.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter r"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/21.gif" alt="Letter R"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>emember? Yes, I remember well that time when the disagreement arose +between Sam Buckley and Cecil, and how it was mended. You are wrong +about one thing, General; no words ever passed between those two young +men; death was between them before they had time to speak.</p> + +<p>I will tell you the real story, old as I am, as well as either of them +could tell it for themselves; and as I tell it I hear the familiar roar +of the old snowy river in my ears, and if I shut my eyes I can see the +great mountain, Lanyngerin, bending down his head like a thoroughbred +horse with a curb in his mouth; I can see the long gray plains, broken +with the outlines of the solitary volcanoes Widderin and Monmot. Ah, +General Halbert! I will go back there next year, for I am tired of +England, and I will leave my bones there; I am getting old, and I want +peace, as I had it in Australia. As for the story you speak of, it is +simply this:—</p> + +<p>Four or five miles up the river from Garoopna stood a solitary hut, +sheltered by a lofty, bare knoll, round which the great river chafed +among the bowlders. Across the stream was the forest sloping down in +pleasant glades from the mountain; and behind the hut rose the plain +four or five hundred feet overhead, seeming to be held aloft by the +blue-stone columns which rose from the river-side.</p> + +<p>In this cottage resided a shepherd, his wife, and one little boy, their +son, about eight years old,—a strange, wild, little bush child, able to +speak articulately, but utterly without knowledge or experience of human +creatures, save of his father and mother; unable to read a line; without +religion of any sort or kind; as entire a little savage, in fact, as you +could find in the worst den in your city, morally speaking, and yet +beautiful to look on; as active as a roe, and, with regard to natural +objects, as fearless as a lion.</p> + +<p>As yet unfit to begin labor, all the long summer he would wander about +the river-bank, up and down the beautiful rock-walled paradise where he +was confined, sometimes looking eagerly across the water at the waving +forest boughs, and fancying he could see other children far up the +vistas beckoning to him to cross and play in that merry land of shifting +lights and shadows.</p> + +<p>It grew quite into a passion with the little man to get across and play +there; and one day when his mother was shifting the hurdles, and he was +handing her the strips of green hide which bound them together, he said +to her, "Mother, what country is that across the river?"</p> + +<p>"The forest, child."</p> + +<p>"There's plenty of quantongs over there, eh, mother, and raspberries? +Why mayn't I get across and play there?"</p> + +<p>"The river is too deep, child, and the Bunyip lives in the water under +the stones."</p> + +<p>"Who are the children that play across there?"</p> + +<p>"Black children, likely."</p> + +<p>"No white children?"</p> + +<p>"Pixies; don't go near 'em, child; they'll lure you on, Lord knows where. +Don't get trying to cross the river, now, or you'll be drowned."</p> + +<p>But next day the passion was stronger on him than ever. Quite early on +the glorious, cloudless, midsummer day he was down by the river-side, +sitting on a rock, with his shoes and stockings off, paddling his feet +in the clear tepid water, and watching the million fish in the +shallows—black fish and grayling—leaping and flashing in the sun.</p> + +<p>There is no pleasure that I have ever experienced like a child's +midsummer holiday,—the time, I mean, when two or three of us used to go +away up the brook, and take our dinners with us, and come home at night +tired, dirty, happy, scratched beyond recognition, with a great nosegay, +three little trout, and one shoe, the other having been used for a boat +till it had gone down with all hands out of soundings. How poor our +Derby days, our Greenwich dinners, our evening parties, where there are +plenty of nice girls, are, after that! Depend on it, a man never +experiences such pleasure or grief after fourteen as he does +before,—unless in some cases in his first love-making, when the +sensation is new to him.</p> + +<p>But meanwhile there sat our child, bare-legged, watching the forbidden +ground beyond the river. A fresh breeze was moving the trees and making +the whole a dazzling mass of shifting light and shadow. He sat so still +that a glorious violet and red kingfisher perched quite close, and, +dashing into the water, came forth with a fish, and fled like a ray of +light along the winding of the river. A colony of little shell parrots, +too, crowded on a bough, and twittered and ran to and fro quite busily, +as though they said to him, "We don't mind you, my dear; you are quite +one of us."</p> + +<p>Never was the river so low. He stepped in; it scarcely reached his ankle. +Now surely he might get across. He stripped himself, and, carrying his +clothes, waded through, the water never reaching his middle, all across +the long, yellow, gravelly shallow. And there he stood, naked and free, +on the forbidden ground.</p> + +<p>He quickly dressed himself, and began examining his new kingdom, rich +beyond his utmost hopes. Such quantongs, such raspberries, surpassing +imagination; and when tired of them, such fern boughs, six or eight feet +long! He would penetrate this region, and see how far it extended.</p> + +<p>What tales he would have for his father to-night! He would bring him +here, and show him all the wonders, and perhaps he would build a new hut +over here, and come and live in it? Perhaps the pretty young lady, with +the feathers in her hat, lived somewhere here, too?</p> + +<p>There! There is one of those children he has seen before across the +river. Ah! ah! it is not a child at all, but a pretty gray beast with +big ears. A kangaroo, my lad; he won't play with you, but skips away +slowly, and leaves you alone.</p> + +<p>There is something like the gleam of water on that rock. A snake! Now a +sounding rush through the wood, and a passing shadow. An eagle! He +brushes so close to the child, that he strikes at the bird with a stick, +and then watches him as he shoots up like a rocket and, measuring the +fields of air in ever-widening circles, hangs like a motionless speck +upon the sky; though, measure his wings across, and you will find he is +nearer fifteen feet than fourteen.</p> + +<p>Here is a prize, though! A wee little native bear, barely a foot +long,—a little gray beast, comical beyond expression, with broad +flapped ears,—sits on a tree within reach. He makes no resistance, but +cuddles into the child's bosom, and eats a leaf as they go along; while +his mother sits aloft and grunts indignant at the abstraction of her +offspring, but on the whole takes it pretty comfortably, and goes on +with her dinner of peppermint leaves.</p> + +<p>What a short day it has been! Here is the sun getting low, and the +magpies and jackasses beginning to tune up before roosting.</p> + +<p>He would turn and go back to the river. Alas! which way?</p> + +<p>He was lost in the bush. He turned back and went, as he thought, the way +he had come, but soon arrived at a tall, precipitous cliff, which by +some infernal magic seemed to have got between him and the river. Then +he broke down, and that strange madness came on him, which comes even on +strong men, when lost in the forest—a despair, a confusion of intellect, +which has cost many a man his life. Think what it must be with a child!</p> + +<p>He was fully persuaded that the cliff was between him and home, and that +he must climb it. Alas! every step he took aloft carried him further +from the river, and the hope of safety; and when he came to the top, +just at dark, he saw nothing but cliff after cliff, range after range, +all around him. He had been wandering through steep gullies all day +unconsciously, and had penetrated far into the mountains. Night was +coming down, still and crystal clear, and the poor little lad was far +away from help or hope, going his last long journey alone.</p> + +<p>Partly perhaps walking, and partly sitting down and weeping, he got +through the night; and when the solemn morning came up, again he was +still tottering along the leading range, bewildered, crying from time to +time, "Mother, mother!" still nursing his little bear, his only +companion, to his bosom, and holding still in his hand a few poor +flowers he had gathered up the day before. Up and on all day, and at +evening, passing out of the great zone of timber, he came on the bald, +thunder-smitten summit ridge, where one ruined tree held up its skeleton +arms against the sunset, and the wind came keen and frosty. So, with +failing, feeble legs, upward still, toward the region of the granite and +the snow; toward the eyry of the kite and the eagle.</p> +<br> + +<p>Brisk as they all were at Garoopna, none were so brisk as Cecil and Sam. +Charles Hawker wanted to come with them, but Sam asked him to go with +Jim, and, long before the others were ready, our two had strapped their +blankets to their saddles, and followed by Sam's dog Rover, now getting +a little gray about the nose, cantered off up the river.</p> + +<p>Neither spoke at first. They knew what a solemn task they had before +them; and, while acting as though everything depended on speed, guessed +well that their search was only for a little corpse, which, if they had +luck, they would find stiff and cold under some tree or crag.</p> + +<p>Cecil began: "Sam, depend on it, that child has crossed the river to +this side. If he had been on the plains, he would have been seen from a +distance in a few hours."</p> + +<p>"I quite agree," said Sam. "Let us go down on this side till we are +opposite the hut, and search for marks by the river-side."</p> + +<p>So they agreed, and in half an hour were opposite the hut, and, riding +across to it to ask a few questions, found the poor mother sitting on +the doorstep, with her apron over her head, rocking herself to and fro.</p> + +<p>"We have come to help you, mistress," said Sam. "How do you think he is gone?"</p> + +<p>She said, with frequent bursts of grief, that "some days before he had +mentioned having seen white children across the water, who beckoned him +to cross and play; that she, knowing well that they were fairies, or +perhaps worse, had warned him solemnly not to mind them; but that she +had very little doubt that they had helped him over and carried him away +to the forest; and that her husband would not believe in his having +crossed the river."</p> + +<p>"Why, it is not knee-deep across the shallow," said Cecil.</p> + +<p>"Let us cross again," said Sam; "he <i>may</i> be drowned, but I don't think it."</p> + +<p>In a quarter of an hour from starting, they found, slightly up the +stream, one of the child's socks, which in his hurry to dress he had +forgotten. Here brave Rover took up the trail like a bloodhound, and +before evening stopped at the foot of a lofty cliff.</p> + +<p>"Can he have gone up here?" said Sam, as they were brought up by the +rock.</p> + +<p>"Most likely," said Cecil. "Lost children always climb from height to +height. I have heard it often remarked by old bush hands. Why they do so, +God, who leads them, only knows; but the fact is beyond denial. Ask +Rover what he thinks."</p> + +<p>The brave old dog was half-way up, looking back for them. It took them +nearly till dark to get their horses up; and, as there was no moon, and +the way was getting perilous, they determined to camp, and start again +in the morning.</p> + +<p>They spread their blankets, and lay down side by side. Sam had thought, +from Cecil's proposing to come with him in preference to the others, +that he would speak of a subject nearly concerning them both; but Cecil +went off to sleep and made no sign; and Sam, ere he dozed, said to +himself, "If he doesn't speak this journey, I will. It is unbearable +that we should not come to some understanding. Poor Cecil!"</p> + +<p>At early dawn they caught up their horses, which had been hobbled with +the stirrup leathers, and started afresh. Both were more silent than +ever, and the dog, with his nose to the ground, led them slowly along +the rocky rib of the mountain, ever going higher and higher.</p> + +<p>"It is inconceivable," said Sam, "that the poor child can have come up +here. There is Tuckerimbid close to our right, five thousand feet above +the river. Don't you think we must be mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"The dog disagrees with you," said Cecil. "He has something before him, +not very far off. Watch him."</p> + +<p>The trees had become dwarfed and scattered; they were getting out of the +region of trees; the real forest zone was now below them, and they saw +they were emerging toward a bald elevated down, and that a few hundred +yards before them was a dead tree, on the highest branch of which sat an eagle.</p> + +<p>"The dog has stopped," said Cecil; "the end is near."</p> + +<p>"See," said Sam, "there is a handkerchief under the tree."</p> + +<p>"That is the boy himself," said Cecil.</p> + +<p>They were up to him and off in a moment. There he lay dead and stiff, +one hand still grasping the flowers he had gathered on his last happy +play-day, and the other laid as a pillow between the soft cold cheek and +the rough cold stone. His midsummer holiday was over, his long journey +was ended. He had found out at last what lay beyond the shining river he +had watched so long.</p> + +<p>That is the whole story, General Halbert; and who should know it better +than I, Geoffry Hamlyn?</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/19.gif" alt="stop7"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story7"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/23.gif" alt="banner8"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>GOODY GRACIOUS!</h3> +<h4>AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT.</h4> +<center>BY JOHN NEAL.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter o"> + <tr> + <td width="70"> + <img src="images/24.gif" alt="Letter O"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>nce there was a little bit of a thing,—not more than so high,—and her +name was Ruth Page; but they called her Teenty-Tawnty, for she was the +daintiest little creature you ever saw, with the smoothest hair and the +brightest face; and then she was always playing about, and always happy; +and so the people that lived in that part of the country, when they +heard her laughing and singing all by herself at peep of day, like +little birds after a shower, and saw her running about in the edge of +the wood after tulips and butterflies, or tumbling head-over-heels in +the long rich grass by the river-side, with her little pet lamb or her +two white pigeons always under her feet, or listening to the wild bees +in the apple-blossoms, with her sweet mouth "all in a tremble," and her +happy eyes brimful of sunshine,—they used to say that she was no child +at all, or no child of earth, but a fairy-gift, and that she must have +been dropped into her mother's lap, like a handful of flowers, when she +was half asleep; and so they wouldn't call her Ruth Page,—no indeed, +that they wouldn't!—but they called her little Teenty-Tawnty, or the +Little Fairy; and they used to bring her fairy tales to read, till she +couldn't bear to read anything else, and wanted to be a fairy herself.</p> + +<p>Well, and so one day, when she was out in the sweet-smelling woods, all +alone by herself, singing, "Where are you going, my pretty maid, my +pretty maid?" and watching the gold-jackets, and the blue dragon-flies, +and the sweet pond-lilies, and the bright-eyed glossy eels, and the +little crimson-spotted fish, as they "coiled and swam," and darted +hither and thither, like "flashes of golden fire," and then huddled +together, all of a sudden, just underneath the green turf where she sat, +as if they saw something, and were half frightened to death, and were +trying to hide in the shadow; well and so—as she sat there, with her +little naked feet hanging over and almost touching the water, singing to +herself, "My face is my fortune, sir, she said! sir, she said!" and +looking down into a deep sunshiny spot, and holding the soft smooth hair +away from her face with both hands, and trying to count the dear little +fish before they got over their fright, all at once she began to think +of the water-fairies, and how cool and pleasant it must be to live in +these deep sunshiny hollows, with green turf all about you, the +blossoming trees and the blue skies overhead, the bright gravel +underneath your feet, like powdered stars, and thousands of beautiful +fish for playfellows! all spotted with gold and crimson, or winged with +rose-leaves, and striped with faint purple and burnished silver, like +the shells and flowers of the deep sea, where the moonlight buds and +blossoms forever and ever; and then she thought if she could only just +reach over, and dip one of her little fat rosy feet into the smooth +shining water,—just once—only once,—-it would be <i>so</i> pleasant! and +she should be <i>so</i> happy! and then, if she could but manage to scare the +fishes a little,—a very little,—that would be such glorious fun, +too,—wouldn't it, you?</p> + +<p>Well and so—she kept stooping and stooping, and stretching and +stretching, and singing to herself all the while, "Sir, she said! sir, +she said! I'm going a milking, sir, she said!" till just as she was +ready to tumble in, head first, something jumped out of the bushes +behind her, almost touching her as it passed, and went plump into the +deepest part of the pool! saying, "<i>Once! once!</i>" with a heavy booming +sound, like the tolling of a great bell under water, and afar off.</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious! what's that?" screamed little Ruth Page, and then, the +very next moment, she began to laugh and jump and clap her hands, to see +what a scampering there was among the poor silly fish, and all for +nothing! said she; for out came a great good-natured bull-frog, with an +eye like a bird, and a big bell-mouth, and a back all frosted over with +precious stones, and dripping with sunshine; and there he sat looking at +her awhile, as if he wanted to frighten her away; and then he opened his +great lubberly mouth at her, and bellowed out, "<i>Once! once!</i>" and +vanished.</p> + +<p>"Luddy tuddy! who cares for you?" said little Ruth; and so, having got +over her fright, she began to creep to the edge of the bank once more, +and look down into the deep water, to see what had become of the little +fish that were so plentiful there, and so happy but a few minutes before. +But they were all gone, and the water was as still as death; and while +she sat looking into it, and waiting for them to come back, and +wondering why they should be so frightened at nothing but a bull-frog, +which they must have seen a thousand times, the poor little simpletons! +and thinking she should like to catch one of the smallest and carry it +home to her little baby-brother, all at once a soft shadow fell upon the +water, and the scented wind blew her smooth hair all into her eyes, and +as she put up both hands in a hurry to pull it away, she heard something +like a whisper close to her ear, saying, "<i>Twice! twice!</i>" and just then +the trailing branch of a tree swept over the turf, and filled the whole +air with a storm of blossoms, and she heard the same low whisper +repeated close at her ear, saying, "<i>Twice! twice!</i>" and then she +happened to look down into the water,—and what do you think she saw there?</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious, mamma! is that you?" said poor little Ruth; and up she +jumped, screaming louder than ever, and looking all about her, and +calling, "Mamma, mamma! I see you, mamma! you needn't hide, mamma!" But +no mamma was to be found.</p> + +<p>"Well, if that isn't the strangest thing!" said little Ruth, at last, +after listening a few minutes, on looking all round everywhere, and up +into the trees, and away off down the river-path, and then toward the +house. "If I didn't think I saw my dear good mamma's face in the water, +as plain as day, and if I didn't hear something whisper in my ear and +say, "<i>Twice! twice!</i>"—and then she stopped, and held her breath, and +listened again,—"if I didn't hear it as plain as I ever heard anything +in my life, then my name isn't Ruth Page, that's all, nor Teenty-Tawnty +neither!" And then she stopped, and began to feel very unhappy and +sorrowful; for she remembered how her mother had cautioned her never to +go near the river, nor into the woods alone, and how she had promised +her mother many and many a time never to do so, never, never! And then +the tears came into her eyes, and she began to wish herself away from +the haunted spot, where she could kneel down and say her prayers; and +then she looked up to the sky, and then down into the still water, and +then she thought she would just go and take one more peep,—only +one,—just to see if the dear little fishes had got over their fright, +and then she would run home to her mother, and tell her how forgetful +she had been, and how naughty, and ask her to give her something that +would make her remember her promises. Poor thing! little did she know +how deep the water was, nor how wonderfully she had escaped! once, once! +twice, twice! and still she ventured a third time.</p> + +<p>Well and so—don't you think, she crept along, crept along to the very +edge of the green, slippery turf, on her hands and knees, half trembling +with fear, and half laughing to think of that droll-looking fat fellow, +with the big bell-mouth, and the yellow breeches, and the grass-green +military jacket, turned up with buff and embroidered with gems, and the +bright golden eye that had so frightened her before, and wondering in +her little heart if he would show himself again; and singing all the +while, as she crept nearer and nearer, "Nobody asked you, sir, she said! +sir, she said! nobody asked you, sir, she said!" till at last she had +got near enough to look over, and see the little fishes there tumbling +about by dozens, and playing bo-peep among the flowers that grew +underneath the bank, and were multiplied by thousands in the clear water, +when, all at once, she felt the turf giving way, and she put out her +arms and screamed for her mother. Goody gracious! how she did scream! +and then something answered from the flowing waters underneath, and from +the flowering trees overhead, with a mournful sweet sound, like wailing +afar off, "<i>Thrice! thrice!</i>" and the flashing waters swelled up, saying, +"<i>Thrice! thrice!</i>" and the flowering branch of the tree swept over the +turf, and the sound was the same, "<i>Thrice! thrice!</i>" and in she went, +headlong, into the deepest part of the pool, screaming with terror, and +calling on her mother to the last: poor mother!</p> + +<p>Well and so—when she came to herself, where do you think she was? Why, +she was lying out in the warm summer air, on a green bank, all tufted +with cowslips and violets and clover-blossoms, with a plenty of +strawberries underneath her feet, and the bluest water you ever saw all +round her, murmuring like the rose-lipped sea-shells; and the air was +full of singing-birds, and there was a little old woman looking at her, +with the funniest cap, and a withered face not bigger than you may see +when you look at the baby through the big end of a spyglass: the cap was +a morning-glory, and it was tied underneath the chin with bleached +cobweb, and the streamers and bows were just like the colors you see in +a soap-bubble.</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious! where am I now?" said little Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, that's my name," said the little old woman, dropping a +low courtesy, and then spinning round two or three times, and squatting +down suddenly, so as to make what you call a cheese.</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't mean to say that's your real name," whispered little +Ruth.</p> + +<p>"To be sure it is! just as much as— And pray, my little creature, +what's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Mine! O, my name is Ruth Page, <i>only</i> Ruth Page." And up she jumped, +and spun round among the strawberries and flowers, and tried to make a +courtesy like the little old woman, and then they both burst out +a-laughing together.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Goody Gracious, "you're a nice, good-natured, funny little +thing, I'll say that for you, as ever I happened to meet with; but +haven't you another and a prettier name, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sometimes they call me little Teenty-Tawnty," said Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Fiddle-de-dee, I don't like that name any better than the other: we +must give you a new name," said the little old woman; "but first tell +me,"—and she grew very serious, and her little sharp eyes changed +color,—"first tell me how you happened to be here, in the very heart of +Fairy-land, with nobody to take care of you, and not so much as a wasp +or a bumble-bee to watch over you when you are asleep."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and indeed, ma'am, I don't know," said little Ruth; "all I do +know is, that I have been very naughty, and that I am drowned, and that +I shall never see my poor dear mamma any more!" And then she up and told +the whole story to the little old woman, crying bitterly all the while.</p> + +<p>"Don't take on so, my little dear, don't, don't!" said Goody Gracious; +and out she whipped what appeared to Ruth nothing but a rumpled leaf of +the tiger-lily, and wiped her eyes with it. "Be a good child, and, after +a trial of three days in Fairy-land, if you want to go back to your +mother you shall go, and you may carry with you a token to her that you +have told the truth."</p> + +<p>"O, bless your little dear old-fashioned face," cried Ruth; "O, bless +you, bless you! only give me a token that will make me always remember +what I have promised my poor dear mother, and I shall be so happy! and I +won't ask for anything else."</p> + +<p>"What, neither for humming-birds, nor gold-fish, nor butterflies, nor +diamonds, nor pearls, nor anything you have been wishing for so long, +ever since you were able to read about Fairy-land?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am; just give me a ring of wheat-straw, or a brooch from the +ruby-beetle, if you like, and I shall be satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Be it so; but, before I change you to a fairy, you must make choice of +what you want to see in Fairy-land for three days running; for, at the +end of that time, I shall change you back again, so that if you are of +the same mind then, you may go back to your mother, and, if not, you +will stay with us for ever and ever."</p> + +<p>"For ever and ever?" said Ruth, and she trembled; "please, ma'am, I +should like to go now, if it's all the same to you?"</p> + +<p>"No! but take this flower," and, as she spoke, she stooped down, and +pulled up a forget-me-not by the roots, and breathed upon it, and it +blossomed all over; "take this root," said she, "and plant it somewhere, +and tend it well, and at any time after three days, if you get tired of +being here, all you have to do will be just to pull it up out of the +earth, and wish yourself at home, and you will find yourself there in a +moment, in your own little bed."</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious! you don't say so!"</p> + +<p>"But I do say so."</p> + +<p>"I declare, I've a good mind to try!"</p> + +<p>"What, pull it up before you have planted it? No, no, my dear. It must +be left out threescore and twelve hours, and be watered with the dews +and the starlight of the South Sea, where you are now, thousands and +thousands of miles from your own dear country; but there is one thing I +would have you know before you plant the flower."</p> + +<p>"If you please, ma'am," said little Ruth.</p> + +<p>"It is given to you, my dear, to help you correct your faults; you mean +to do right, and you try pretty hard, but you are <i>so</i> forgetful, you +say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, but just so long as you tend this plant with care, and water +it every day at the same hour,—every day, mind you, and at the same +hour,—you will be growing better."</p> + +<p>Ruth was overjoyed.</p> + +<p>"But," continued the fairy, "if you neglect it for a single day, it will +begin to droop and wither, the leaves will change, and some of the +blossoms will drop off, and your mother will begin to feel unhappy and +low-spirited."</p> + +<p>"O yes; but I never shall, ma'am,—never, <i>never!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Don't be too sure; and if you neglect it for two whole days running, +all the flowers will drop off but one, and your mother will take to her +bed, and nobody but you will know what ails her."</p> + +<p>Poor Ruth began to tremble, and the tears came in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"But," continued the fairy,—"<i>but</i> if you should neglect it for three +days running, my poor child,—but for three days running,—the last +flower will drop off, and your mother will die of a broken heart."</p> + +<p>"O mercy, mercy!" cried poor little Ruth. "O, take it! take it! I +wouldn't have it for the world!" And she flung it down upon the loose +earth, and shook her little fingers, just as if something had stung her.</p> + +<p>"It is too late now. See, my dear, it has already taken root, and now +there is no help for it. Remember! your mother's health, happiness, and +life depend upon that flower. Watch it well! And now, daughter of +earth," and, as she spoke, she stooped, and pulled up a whole handful of +violets, dripping with summer rain,—and repeating the words, "Daughter +of earth, away! Rosebud, appear!" shook the moisture all over her; and +instantly the dear child found herself afloat in the air, with pinions +of purple gauze, bedropped with gold, with millions of little fairies +all about her, swarming like butterflies and blossoms after a pleasant +rain, and welcoming their sister Rosebud to Fairy-land.</p> + +<p>"Well," thought Rosebud,—we must call her Rosebud now,—"well, if this +being a little fairy isn't one of the pleasantest things." And then she +recollected that she had only three days to stay there and see the +sights, and she looked round her to ask if there was anybody near to +help her, and take charge of her, and tell her what to do and where to go.</p> + +<p>"Daughter," said a sweet voice that she knew, though it appeared to come +out and steal up from the leaves of another morning-glory,—"Daughter!"</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Rosebud.</p> + +<p>"You may have your choice to-day of these three things,—a +butterfly-hunt, a wedding, or a play."</p> + +<p>"O, a wedding, a wedding," said Rosebud. "O, I have always wanted to see +a wedding."</p> + +<p>"Be it so," said the voice; and instantly a sweet wind arose, and lifted +her up, and swept her, and thousands more like her, over the blue deep +so swiftly that nothing could be seen but a mist of sparkles here and +there, till they all found themselves on the sea-shore, at the mouth of +a deep sparry cave, all hung about with the richest moss, and lighted +with pearls in clusters, and with little patches of glow-worms, and +carpeted with the wings of butterflies. In the midst were a multitude of +little fairies, hovering and floating over a throne of spider-net ivory, +on which lay the bride, with a veil of starlight, interwoven with the +breath of roses, covering her from head to foot, and falling over the +couch like sunshine playing on clear water.</p> + +<p>By and by a faint, strange murmuring was heard afar off, like the +ringing of lily-bells to the touch of the honey-bees, growing louder and +louder, and coming nearer and nearer every moment. Rosebud turned toward +the sea with all the other fairies, and held her breath; and after a few +moments a fleet of little ships, with the most delicate purple and azure +sails, so thin that you could see the sky through them, came tilting +along over the sea as if they were alive,—and so they were,—and drew +up, as if in order of battle, just before the mouth of the cave; and +then a silver trumpet sounded on the shore, and a swarm of hornets +appeared, whizzing and whirring all about the cave; and then there was +another trumpet, and another, about as loud as you may hear from a caged +blue-bottle, and compliments were interchanged, and a salute fired, +which frightened the little lady-fairies into all sorts of shapes, and +made the little fairy-bride jump up and ask if her time had come, though, +to tell you the truth, the noise did not appear much more terrible to +Rosebud than her little brother's pop-gun; and then a sort of barge, not +unlike the blossom of a sweet pea in shape, was manned from the largest +of the fleet, and, when it touched the bright sparkling sand, out leaped +a little prince of a fellow, with a bunch of white feathers in his hat, +plucked from the moth-miller, a sword like the finest cambric-needle +belted about his waist, and the most unimpeachable small-clothes.</p> + +<p>This turned out to be the bridegroom; and after a few more flourishes, +and not a little pulling and hauling among the bridesmaids, the bride +and the bridegroom stood up together, and looked silly and sheepish, as +if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths; and after listening awhile to +an old droning-beetle, without hearing a word he said, they bowed and +courtesied, and made some sort of a reply, nobody could guess what; and +then forth stepped the master of ceremonies, a priggish-looking +grasshopper, with straw-colored tights, and a fashionable coat, +single-breasted, and so quakerish it set poor little Rosebud a-laughing, +in spite of all she could do, every time she looked at his legs; and +<i>then!</i> out ran the ten thousand trumpeting bumble-bees, and the katydid +grew noisier than ever, and the cricket chirruped for joy, and the +bridegroom touched the bride's cheek, and pointed slyly toward a little +heap of newly gathered roses and violets, piled up afar off, in a +shadowy part of the cave, just underneath a trailing canopy of +changeable moss; the bride blushed, and the fairies tittered, and little +Rosebud turned away, and wished herself at home, and instantly the bride +and the bridegroom vanished! and the ships and the fairies! and the +lights and the music! and Rosebud found herself standing face to face +with the little withered old woman, who was looking mournfully at the +drooping forget-me-not. The tears came into her eyes, and for the first +time since the flower took root,—for the very first time,—she began to +think of her mother, and of her promise to the fairy; and she stooped +down, in an agony of terror and shame and self-reproach, to see how it +fared with her forget-me-not. Alas! it had already begun to droop and +wither; and the leaves were changing color, and the blossoms were +dropping off, and she knew that her mother was beginning to suffer.</p> + +<p>"O that I had never seen the hateful flower!" cried Rosebud; and then +instantly recollecting herself, she dropped upon her knees, and kissed +it, and wept upon it, and the flower seemed refreshed by her tears; and +when she stood up and looked into the face of the good little fairy, and +saw her lips tremble, and the color change in her sweet mournful eyes, +she felt as if she never should be happy again.</p> + +<p>"Daughter of earth! child of the air!" said the fairy, "two more days +remain to thee. What wouldst thou have?"</p> + +<p>"O nothing! nothing! Let me but go back to my dear, dear mother, and I +shall be so happy!"</p> + +<p>"That cannot be. These trials are to prepare thee for thy return to her. +Be patient, and take thy choice of these three things,—a tournament, a +coronation, or a ball!"</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious! how I <i>should</i> like to see a coronation!" cried +Rosebud; and then she recollected herself, and blushed and courtesied, +and said, "if you please, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Call me mother, my dear; in Fairy-land I am your mother."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother," said Rosebud, the tears starting into her eyes, and her +heart swelling, as she determined never to call her mamma, no, +never!—"well, mother, if you please, I would rather stay here and watch +the flower: I don't want to see anything more in Fairy-land; I've had +enough of such things to last me as long as I live. But O, if I should +happen to fall asleep!"</p> + +<p>"If you should, my dear, you will wake in season; but take your choice."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, mother, but I choose to stay here."</p> + +<p>At these words the fairy vanished, and Rosebud was left alone, looking +at the dear little flower, which seemed to grow fresher and fresher, and +more and more beautiful every minute, and wondering whether it would be +so with her dear mamma; and then she fell to thinking about her home, +and how much trouble she had given her mother, and how much better she +would always be after she had got back to her once more; and then she +fell asleep, and slept so soundly that she did not wake till the sun was +up, and it was time to water the flower.</p> + +<p>At first she was terribly frightened; but when she remembered what the +fairy told her, she began to feel comfortable, and, lest something might +happen, she took a little sea-shell that lay there, and running down to +the water, dipped it up full, and was on her way back, thinking how +happy her poor dear mamma would feel if she could only know <i>what</i> it +was and <i>who</i> it was that made her so much better, when she heard the +strangest and sweetest noises all about her in the air, as if the whole +sky was full of the happiest and merriest creatures! and when she looked +up, lo! there was a broad glitter to be seen, as if the whole population +of Fairy-land were passing right over her head, making a sort of path +like that you see at sunrise along the blue deep, when the waters are +motionless and smooth and clear.</p> + +<p>"Well," said she, looking up, "I <i>do</i> wonder where they are going so +fast,"—and then she stopped,—"and I do think they might be civil +enough just to let a body know; I dare say 'tis the coronation, or the +butterfly-hunt, or the tournament, or the— O, how I should like to be there!"</p> + +<p>No sooner was the wish uttered, than she found herself seated in a high +gallery, as delicately carved as the ivory fans of the east; with +diamonds and ostrich-feathers all about and below her, and a prodigious +crowd assembled in the open air,—with the lists open,—a trumpet +sounding,—and scores of knights armed cap-ŕ-pie, and mounted on +dragon-flies, waiting for the charge. All eyes were upon her, and +everybody about was whispering her name, and she never felt half so +happy in her life; and she was just beginning to compare the delicate +embroidery of her wings with that of her next neighbor, a sweet little +fairy who sat looking through her fingers at a youthful champion below, +and pouting and pouting as if she wanted everybody to know that he had +jilted her, when she happened to see a little forget-me-not embroidered +on his beaver; and she instantly recollected her promise, and cried out, +"O mamma! mamma!" and wished herself back again, where she might sit by +the flower and watch over it, and never leave it, never! till her three +days of trial were ended.</p> + +<p>In a moment, before she could speak a word, or even make a bow to the +nice little boy-fairy, who had just handed her up her glove on the point +of a lance like a sunbeam, she found herself seated by the flower. Poor +little thing! It was too late! Every blossom had fallen off but one, and +that looked unhealthy, and trembled when she breathed upon it. She +thought of her mamma, and fancied she could see them carrying her up to +bed, and all the doctors there, and nobody able to tell what ailed her; +and she threw herself all along upon the grass, and wished all the +fairies at the bottom of the Red Sea, and herself with them! And when +she looked up, what do you think she saw? and where do you think she +was? why, she was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and all the wonders of +the Red Sea were about her,—chariots and chariot-wheels and the +skeletons of war-horses, and mounted warriors, with heaps of glittering +armor, and jewels of silver and jewels of gold, and banner and shield +and spear, with millions and millions of little sea-fairies, and Robin +Goodfellows, and giants and dwarfs, and the funniest-looking monsters +you ever heard of; and the waters were all bright with fairy-lamps that +were alive, and with ribbons that were alive, and with changeable +flowers that swam about and whispered to each other in a language of +their own; and there were great heaps of pearl washed up into drifts and +ridges, and a pile of the strangest-looking old-fashioned furniture, of +gold and ivory, and little mermaids with their dolls not longer than +your finger, with live fishes for tails, jumping about and playing +hide-and-seek with the sun-spots and star-fishes, and the striped +water-snakes of the Indian seas,—the most brilliant and beautiful of +all the creatures that live there.</p> + +<p>And while she was looking about her, and wondering at all she saw, she +happened to think once more of the <i>forget-me-not</i>, and to wish herself +back again! At that instant she heard a great heavy bell booming and +tolling,—she knew it was tolling—and she knew she was too late—and +she knew that her mother was dead of a broken heart,—and she fell upon +her face, and stretched forth her hands with a shriek, and prayed God to +forgive her! and allow her to see her mother once more,—only once more!</p> + +<p>"Why, what ails the child?" whispered somebody that seemed to be +stooping over her.</p> + +<p>It was her mother's voice! and poor Ruth was afraid to look up lest it +should all vanish forever.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Sarah," said another voice,—it was her father's,—"upon +my word, Sarah, I do not know; but the poor little creature's thoughts +appear to have undergone another change. I have heard nothing to-day of +the forget-me-not which troubled her so the first week, have you?"</p> + +<p>"She has mentioned it but once to-day, and then she shuddered; but +perhaps we had better keep it in the glass till we see whether it will +bear to be transplanted, for she seems to have set her little heart upon +having that flower live; I wish I knew why!"</p> + +<p>"Do you, indeed, mamma?" whispered poor Ruth, still without looking up; +"well, then, I will tell you. That flower was given me by a fairy to +make me remember my promises to you, my poor, dear, dead mamma; and so +long as I water that every day at the same hour, so long I shall be +growing better and better, and my poor dear mamma,—boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" +and the little thing began to cry as if she would break her heart.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is stranger than all," said the father. "I can't help +thinking the poor child would be rational enough now, if she hadn't read +so many fairy-books; but what a mercy it was, my dear Sarah, and how +shall we ever be thankful enough, that you happened to be down there +when she fell into the water."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Ruth Page began to hold her breath, and listen with the strangest feeling.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Robert; but I declare to you, I am frightened whenever I think of +the risk I ran by letting her fall in, head first, as I did."</p> + +<p>Poor Ruth began to lift her head, and to feel about, and pinch herself +to see if she was really awake.</p> + +<p>"And then, too, just think of this terrible fever, and the strange, wild +poetry she has been talking, day after day, about Fairy-land."</p> + +<p>"Poetry! Fudge, Robert, fudge!"</p> + +<p>Ruth looked up, full of amazement and joy, and whispered, "Fudge, father, +fudge!" and the very next words that fell from her trembling lips as she +sat looking at her mother, and pointing at a little bunch of +forget-me-nots in full flower, that her mother had kept for her in a +glass by the window, were these, "O mother! dearest mother! what a +terrible dream I have had!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my love, hush! and go to sleep, and we will talk this matter over +when you are able to bear it."</p> + +<p>"Goody gracious, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"There she goes again!" cried the father; "now we shall have another fit!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, my love! you must go to sleep now, and not talk any more."</p> + +<p>"Well, kiss me, mamma, and let me have your hand to go to sleep with, +and I'll try."</p> + +<p>Her mother kissed the dear little thing, and took her hand in hers, and +laid her cheek upon the pillow, and in less than five minutes she was +sound asleep, and breathing as she hadn't breathed before since she had +been fished out of the water, nearly three weeks back, on her way to Fairy-land.</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/19.gif" alt="stop8"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story8"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/26.gif" alt="banner9"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>A FADED LEAF OF HISTORY.</h3> +<center>BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter o"> + <tr> + <td width="69"> + <img src="images/27.gif" alt="Letter O"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>ne quiet, snowy afternoon this winter, I found in a dark corner of one +of the oldest libraries in the country a curious pamphlet. It fell into +my hands like a bit of old age and darkness itself. The pages were +coffee-colored, and worn thin and ragged at the edges, like rotting +leaves in fall; they had grown clammy to the touch, too, from the grasp +of so many dead years. There was a peculiar smell about the book which +it had carried down from the days when young William Penn went up and +down the clay-paths of his village of Philadelphia, stopping to watch +the settlers fishing in the clear ponds or to speak to the gangs of +yellow-painted Indians coming in with peltry from the adjacent forest.</p> + +<p>The leaves were scribbled over with the name of John,—"John," in a +cramped, childish hand. His father's book, no doubt, and the writing a +bit of boyish mischief. Outside now, in the street, the boys were +pelting each other with snowballs, just as this John had done in the +clay-paths. But for nearly two hundred years his bones had been crumbled +into lime and his flesh gone back into grass and roots. Yet here he was, +a boy still; here was the old pamphlet and the scrawl in yellowing ink, +with the smell about it still.</p> + +<p><i>Printed by Rainier Janssen</i>, 1698. I turned over the leaves, expecting +to find a sermon preached before Andros, "for the conversion of +Sadducees," or some "Report of the Condition of the Principalities of +New Netherland, or New Sweden, for the Use of the Lord's High +Proprietors thereof" (for of such precious dead dust this library is +full); but I found, instead, wrapped in weighty sentences and backed by +the gravest and most ponderous testimony, the story of a baby, "a +Sucking Child six Months old." It was like a live seed in the hand of a +mummy. The story of a baby and a boy and an aged man, in "the devouring +Waves of the Sea; and also among the cruel devouring Jaws of inhuman +Canibals." There were, it is true, other divers persons in the company, +by one of whom the book is written. But the divers persons seemed to me +to be only part of that endless caravan of ghosts that has been crossing +the world since the beginning; they never can be anything but ghosts to +us. If only to find a human interest in them, one would rather they had +been devoured by inhuman cannibals than not. But a baby and a boy and an +aged man!</p> + +<p>All that afternoon, through the dingy windows of the old building, I +could see the snow falling soft and steadily, covering the countless +roofs of the city, and fancying the multitude of comfortable happy homes +which these white roofs hid, and the sweet-tempered, gracious women +there, with their children close about their knees. I thought I would +like to bring this little live baby back to the others, with its strange, +pathetic story, out of the buried years where it has been hidden with +dead people so long, and give it a place and home among us all again.</p> + +<p>I only premise that I have left the facts of the history unaltered, even +in the names; and that I believe them to be, in every particular, true.</p> + +<p>On the 22d of August, 1696, this baby, a puny, fretful boy, was carried +down the street of Port Royal, Jamaica, and on board the "barkentine" +Reformation, bound for Pennsylvania; a Province which, as you remember, +Du Chastellux, a hundred years later, described as a most savage country +which he was compelled to cross on his way to the burgh of Philadelphia, +on its border. To this savage country our baby was bound. He had by way +of body-guard his mother, a gentle Quaker lady; his father, Jonathan +Dickenson, a wealthy planter, on his way to increase his wealth in +Penn's new settlement; three negro men, four negro women, and an Indian +named Venus, all slaves of the said Dickenson; the captain, his boy, +seven seamen, and two passengers. Besides this defence, the baby's ship +was escorted by thirteen sail of merchantmen under convoy of an armed +frigate. For these were the days when, to the righteous man, terror +walked abroad, in the light and the darkness. The green, quiet coasts +were but the lurking-places of savages, and the green, restless seas +more treacherous with pirates. Kidd had not yet buried his treasure, but +was prowling up and down the eastern seas, gathering it from every +luckless vessel that fell in his way. The captain, Kirle, debarred from +fighting by cowardice, and the Quaker Dickenson, forbidden by principle, +appear to have set out upon their perilous journey, resolved to defend +themselves by suspicion, pure and simple. They looked for treachery +behind every bush and billow; the only chance of safety lay, they +maintained, in holding every white man to be an assassin and every red +man a cannibal until they were proved otherwise.</p> + +<p>The boy was hired by Captain Kirle to wait upon him. His name was John +Hilliard, and he was precisely what any of these good-humored, +mischievous fellows outside would have been, hired on a brigantine two +centuries ago; disposed to shirk his work in order to stand gaping at +Black Ben fishing, or to rub up secretly his old cutlass for the behoof +of Kidd, or the French when they should come, while the Indian Venus +stood by looking on, with the baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>The aged man is invariably set down as chief of the company, though the +captain held all the power and the Quaker all the money. But white hair +and a devout life gave an actual social rank in those days, obsolete now, +and Robert Barrow was known as a man of God all along the +coast-settlements from Massachusetts to Ashley River, among whites and +Indians. Years before, in Yorkshire, his inward testimony (he being a +Friend) had bidden him go preach in this wilderness. He asked of God, it +is said, rather to die; but was not disobedient to the heavenly call, +and came and labored faithfully. He was now returning from the West +Indies, where he had carried his message a year ago.</p> + +<p>The wind set fair for the first day or two; the sun was warm. Even the +grim Quaker Dickenson might have thought the white-sailed fleet a pretty +sight scudding over the rolling green plain, if he could have spared +time to his jealous eyes from scanning the horizon for pirates. Our baby, +too, saw little of sun or sea; for, being but a sickly baby, with hardly +vitality enough to live from day to day, it was kept below, smothered in +the finest of linens and the softest of paduasoy.</p> + +<p>One morning when the fog lifted, Dickenson's watch for danger was +rewarded. They had lost their way in the night; the fleet was gone, the +dead blue slopes of water rolled up to the horizon on every side and +were met by the dead blue sky, without the break of a single sail or the +flicker of a flying bird. For fifteen days they beat about without any +apparent aim other than to escape the enemies whom they hourly expected +to leap out from behind the sky-line. On the sixteenth day friendly +signs were made to them from shore. "A fire made a great Smoak, and +People beckoned to us to putt on Shoar," but Kirle and Dickenson, seized +with fresh fright, put about and made off as for their lives, until nine +o'clock that night, when, seeing two signal-lights, doubtless from some +of their own convoy, they cried out, "The French! the French!" and +tacked back again as fast as might be. The next day, Kirle being +disabled by a jibbing boom, Dickenson brought his own terrors into +command, and for two or three days whisked the unfortunate barkentine up +and down the coast, afraid of both sea and shore, until finally, one +night, he run her aground on a sand-bar on the Florida reefs. Wondering +much at this "judgment of God," Dickenson went to work. Indeed, to do +him justice, he seems to have been always ready enough to use his burly +strength and small wit, trusting to them to carry him through the world +wherein his soul was beleaguered by many inscrutable judgments of God +and the universal treachery of his brother-man.</p> + +<p>The crew abandoned the ship in a heavy storm. A fire was kindled in the +bight of a sand-hill and protected as well as might be with sails and +palmetto branches; and to this, Dickenson, with "Great trembling and +Pain of Hartt," carried his baby in his own arms and laid it in its +mother's breast. Its little body was pitiful to see from leanness, and a +great fever was upon it. Robert Barrow, the crippled captain, and a sick +passenger shared the child's shelter. "Whereupon two Canibals appeared, +naked, but for a breech-cloth of plaited straw, with Countenances bloody +and furious, and foaming at the Mouth"; but on being given tobacco, +retreated inland to alarm the tribe. The ship's company gathered +together and sat down to wait their return, expecting cruelty, says +Dickenson, and dreadful death. Christianity was now to be brought face +to face with heathenness, which fact our author seems to have recognized +under all his terror. "We began by putting our trust in the Lord, hoping +for no Mercy from these bloody-minded Creatures; having too few guns to +use except to enrage them, a Motion arose among us to deceive them by +calling ourselves Spaniards, that Nation having some influence over +them"; to which lie all consented, except Robert Barrow. It is curious +to observe how these early Christians met the Indians with the same +weapons of distrust and fraud which have proved so effective with us in +civilizing them since.</p> + +<p>In two or three hours the savages appeared in great numbers, bloody and +furious, and in their chronic state of foaming at the mouth. "They +rushed in upon us, shouting 'Nickalees? Nickalees?' (Un Ingles.) To +which we replied 'Espania.' But they cried the more fiercely 'No Espania, +Nickalees!' and being greatly enraged thereat, seized upon all Trunks +and Chests and our cloathes upon our Backs, leaving us each only a pair +of old Breeches, except Robert Barrow, my wife, and child, from whom +they took nothing." The king, or Cassekey, as Dickenson calls him, +distinguished by a horse-tail fastened to his belt behind, took +possession of their money and buried it, at which the good Quaker spares +not his prayers for punishment on all pagan robbers, quite blind to the +poetic justice of the burial, as the money had been made on land stolen +from the savages. The said Cassekey also set up his abode in their tent; +kept all his tribe away from the woman and child and aged man; kindled +fires; caused, as a delicate attention, the only hog remaining on the +wreck to be killed and brought to them for a midnight meal; and, in +short, comported himself so hospitably, and with such kindly +consideration toward the broad-brimmed Quaker, that we are inclined to +account him the better-bred fellow of the two, in spite of his scant +costume of horse-tail and belt of straw. As for the robbery of the +ship's cargo, no doubt the Cassekey had progressed far enough in +civilization to know that to the victors belong the spoils. Florida, for +two years, had been stricken down from coast to coast by a deadly famine, +and in all probability these cannibals returned thanks to whatever God +they had for this windfall of food and clothes devoutly as our +forefathers were doing at the other end of the country for the homes +which they had taken by force. There is a good deal of kinship among us +in circumstances, after all, as well as in blood. The chief undoubtedly +recognized a brother in Dickenson, every whit as tricky as himself, and +would fain, savage as he was, have proved him to be something better; +for, after having protected them for several days, he came into their +tent and gravely and with authority set himself to asking the old +question, "Nickalees?"</p> + +<p>"To which, when we denied, he directed his Speech to the Aged Man, who +would not conceal the Truth, but answered in Simplicity, 'Yes.' Then he +cried in Wrath 'Totus Nickalees!' and went out from us. But returned in +great fury with his men, and stripped all Cloathes from us."</p> + +<p>However, the clothes were returned, and the chief persuaded them to +hasten on to his own village. Dickenson, suspecting foul play as usual, +insisted on going to Santa Lucia. There, the Indian told him, they would +meet fierce savages and undoubtedly have their throats cut, which kindly +warning was quite enough to drive the Quaker to Santa Lucia headlong. He +was sure of the worst designs on the part of the cannibal, from a +strange glance which he fixed upon the baby as he drove them before him +to his village, saying with a treacherous laugh, that after they had +gone there for a purpose he had, they might go to Santa Lucia as they would.</p> + +<p>It was a bleak, chilly afternoon as they toiled mile after mile along +the beach, the Quaker woman far behind the others with her baby in her +arms, carrying it, as she thought, to its death. Overhead, flocks of +dark-winged grakles swooped across the lowering sky, uttering from time +to time their harsh, foreboding cry; shoreward, as far as the eye could +see, the sand stretched in interminable yellow ridges, blackened here +and there by tufts of dead palmetto-trees; while on the other side the +sea had wrapped itself in a threatening silence and darkness. A line of +white foam crept out of it from horizon to horizon, dumb and treacherous, +and licked the mother's feet as she dragged herself heavily after the others.</p> + +<p>From time to time the Indian stealthily peered over her shoulder, +looking at the child's thin face as it slept upon her breast. As evening +closed in, they came to a broad arm of the sea thrust inland through the +beach, and halted at the edge. Beyond it, in the darkness, they could +distinguish the yet darker shapes of the wigwams, and savages gathered +about two or three enormous fires that threw long red lines of glare +into the sea-fog. "As we stood there for many Hour's Time," says +Jonathan Dickenson, "we were assured these Dreadful Fires were prepared for us."</p> + +<p>Of all the sad little company that stand out against the far-off dimness +of the past, in that long watch upon the beach, the low-voiced, +sweet-tempered Quaker lady comes nearest and is the most real to us. The +sailors had chosen a life of peril years ago; her husband, with all his +suspicious bigotry, had, when pushed to extremes, an admirable tough +courage with which to face the dangers of sea and night and death; and +the white-headed old man, who stood apart and calm, had received, as +much as Elijah of old, a Divine word to speak in the wilderness, and the +life in it would sustain him through death. But Mary Dickenson was only +a gentle, commonplace woman, whose life had been spent on a quiet farm, +whose highest ambition was to take care of her snug little house, and +all of whose brighter thoughts or romance or passion began and ended in +this staid Quaker and the baby that was a part of them both. It was only +six months ago that this first-born child had been laid in her arms; and +as she lay on the white bed looking out on the spring dawning day after +day, her husband sat beside her telling her again and again of the house +he had made ready for her in Penn's new settlement. She never tired of +hearing of it. Some picture of this far-off home must have come to the +poor girl as she stood now in the night, the sea-water creeping up to +her naked feet, looking at the fires built, as she believed, for her child.</p> + +<p>Toward midnight a canoe came from the opposite side, into which the +chief put Barrow, Dickenson, the child, and its mother. Their worst +fears being thus confirmed, they crossed in silence, holding each other +by the hand, the poor baby moaning now and then. It had indeed been born +tired into the world, and had gone moaning its weak life out ever since.</p> + +<p>Landing on the farther beach, the crowd of waiting Indians fled from +them as if frightened, and halted in the darkness beyond the fires. But +the Cassekey dragged them on toward a wigwam, taking Mary and the child +before the others. "Herein," says her husband, "was the Wife of the +Canibal and some old Women sitting in a Cabbin made of Sticks about a +Foot high, and covered with a Matt. He made signs for us to sitt down on +the Ground, which we did. The Cassekey's Wife looking at my Child and +having her own Child in her lapp, putt it away to another Woman, and +rose upp and would not bee denied, but would have my Child. She took it +and suckled it at her Breast, feeling it from Top to Toe, and viewing it +with a sad Countenance."</p> + +<p>The starving baby, being thus warmed and fed, stretched its little arms +and legs out on the savage breast comfortably and fell into a happy +sleep, while its mother sat apart and looked on.</p> + +<p>"An Indian did kindly bring to her a Fish upon a Palmetto Leaf and set +it down before her; but the Pain and Thoughts within her were so great +that she could not eat."</p> + +<p>The rest of the crew having been brought over, the chief set himself to +work and speedily had a wigwam built in which mats were spread, and the +shipwrecked people, instead of being killed and eaten, went to sleep +just as the moon rose, and the Indians began "a Consert of hideous +Noises," whether of welcome or worship they could not tell.</p> + +<p>Dickenson and his band remained in this Indian village for several days, +endeavoring all the time to escape, in spite of the kind treatment of +the chief, who appears to have shared all that he had with them. The +Quaker kept a constant, fearful watch, lest there might be death in the +pot. When the Cassekey found they were resolved to go, he set out for +the wreck, bringing back a boat which was given to them, with butter, +sugar, a rundlet of wine, and chocolate; to Mary and the child he also +gave everything which he thought would be useful to them. This friend in +the wilderness appeared sorry to part with them, but Dickenson was blind +both to friendship and sorrow, and obstinately took the direction +against which the chief warned him, suspecting treachery, "though we +found afterward that his counsell was good."</p> + +<p>Robert Barrow, Mary, and the child, with two sick men, went in a canoe +along the coast, keeping the crew in sight, who, with the boy, travelled +on foot, sometimes singing as they marched. So they began the long and +terrible journey, the later horrors of which I dare not give in the +words here set down. The first weeks were painful and disheartening, +although they still had food. Their chief discomfort arose from the +extreme cold at night and the tortures from the sand-flies and +mosquitoes on their exposed bodies, which they tried to remedy by +covering themselves with sand, but found sleep impossible.</p> + +<p>At last, however, they met the fiercer savages of whom the chief had +warned them, and practised upon them the same device of calling +themselves Spaniards. By this time, one would suppose, even Dickenson's +dull eyes would have seen the fatal idiocy of the lie. "Crying out +'Nickalees, No Espanier,' they rushed upon us, rending the few Cloathes +from us that we had; they took all from my Wife, even tearing her Hair +out, to get at the Lace, wherewith it was knotted." They were then +dragged furiously into canoes and rowed to the village, being stoned and +shot at as they went. The child was stripped, while one savage filled +its mouth with sand.</p> + +<p>But at that the chief's wife came quickly to Mary and protected her from +the sight of all, and took the sand out of the child's mouth, entreating +it very tenderly, whereon the mass of savages fell back, muttering and angry.</p> + +<p>The same woman brought the poor naked lady to her wigwam, quieted her, +found some raw deerskins, and showed her how to cover herself and the +baby with them.</p> + +<p>The tribe among which they now were had borne the famine for two years; +their emaciated and hunger-bitten faces gave fiercer light to their +gloomy, treacherous eyes. Their sole food was fish and palmetto-berries, +both of which were scant. Nothing could have been more unwelcome than +the advent of this crowd of whites, bringing more hungry mouths to fill; +and, indeed, there is little reason to doubt that the first intention +was to put them all to death. But, after the second day, Dickenson +relates that the chief "looked pleasantly upon my Wife and Child"; +instead of the fish entrails and filthy water in which the fish had been +cooked which had been given to the prisoners, he brought clams to Mary, +and kneeling in the sand showed her how to roast them. The Indian women, +too, carried off the baby, knowing that its mother had no milk for it, +and handed it about from one to the other, putting away their own +children that they might give it their food. At which the child, that, +when it had been wrapped in fine flannel and embroidery had been always +nigh to death, began to grow fat and rosy, to crow and laugh as it had +never done before, and kick its little legs sturdily about under their +bit of raw skin covering. Mother Nature had taken the child home, that +was all, and was breathing new lusty life into it, out of the bare +ground and open sky, the sun and wind, and the breasts of these her +children; but its father saw in the change only another inexplicable +miracle of God. Nor does he seem to have seen that it was the child and +its mother who had been a protection and shield to the whole crew and +saved them through this their most perilous strait.</p> + +<p>I feel as if I must stop here with the story half told. Dickenson's +narrative, when I finished it, left behind it a fresh, sweet +cheerfulness, as if one had been actually touching the living baby with +its fair little body and milky breath; but if I were to try to reproduce +the history of the famished men and women of the crew during the months +that followed, I should but convey to you a dull and dreary horror.</p> + +<p>You yourselves can imagine what the journey on foot along the bleak +coast in winter, through tribe after tribe of hostile savages, must have +been to delicately nurtured men and women, naked but for a piece of raw +deerskin and utterly without food save for the few nauseous berries or +offal rejected by the Indians. In their ignorance of the coast they +wandered farther and farther out of their way into those morasses which +an old writer calls "the refuge of all unclean birds and the +breeding-fields of all reptiles." Once a tidal wave swept down into a +vast marsh where they had built their fire, and air and ground slowly +darkened with the swarming living creatures, whirring, creeping about +them through the night, and uttering gloomy, dissonant cries. Many of +these strange companions and some savages found their way to the hill of +oyster-shells where the crew fled, and remained there for the two days +and nights in which the flood lasted.</p> + +<p>Our baby accepted all fellow-travellers cheerfully; made them welcome, +indeed. Savage, slave, and beast were his friends alike, his laugh and +outstretched hands were ready for them all. The aged man, too, Dickenson +tells us, remained hopeful and calm, even when the slow-coming touch of +death had begun to chill and stiffen him, and in the presence of the +cannibals assuring his companions cheerfully of his faith that they +would yet reach home in safety. Even in that strange, forced halt, when +Mary Dickenson could do nothing but stand still and watch the sea +closing about them, creeping up and up like a visible death, the old +man's prayers and the baby's laugh must have kept the thought of her far +home very near and warm to her.</p> + +<p>They escaped the sea to fall into worse dangers. Disease was added to +starvation. One by one strong men dropped exhausted by the way, and were +left unburied, while the others crept feebly on; stout Jonathan +Dickenson taking as his charge the old man, now almost a helpless burden. +Mary, who, underneath her gentle, timid ways, seems to have had a +gallant heart in her little body, carried her baby to the last, until +the milk in her breast was quite dried and her eyes grew blind, and she +too fell one day beside a poor negress who, with her unborn child, lay +frozen and dead, saying that she was tired, and that the time had come +for her too to go. Dickenson lifted her and struggled on.</p> + +<p>The child was taken by the negroes and sailors. It makes a mother's +heart ache even now to read how these coarse, famished men, often +fighting like wild animals with each other, staggering under weakness +and bodily pain, carried the heavy baby, never complaining of its weight, +thinking, it may be, of some child of their own whom they would never +see or touch again.</p> + +<p>I can understand better the mystery of that Divine Childhood that was +once in the world, when I hear how these poor slaves, unasked, gave of +their dying strength to this child; how, in tribes through which no +white man had ever travelled alive, it was passed from one savage mother +to the other, tenderly handled, nursed at their breasts; how a gentler, +kindlier spirit seemed to come from the presence of the baby and its +mother to the crew; so that, while at first they had cursed and fought +their way along, they grew at the last helpful and tender with each +other, often going back, when to go back was death, for the comrade who +dropped by the way, and bringing him on until they too lay down, and +were at rest together.</p> + +<p>It was through the baby that deliverance came to them at last. The story +that a white woman and a beautiful child had been wandering all winter +through the deadly swamps was carried from one tribe to another until it +reached the Spanish fort at St. Augustine. One day therefore, when near +their last extremity, they "saw a Perre-augoe approaching by sea filled +with soldiers, bearing a letter signifying the governor of St. +Augustine's great Care for our Preservation, of what Nation soever we +were." The journey, however, had to be made on foot; and it was more +than two weeks before Dickenson, the old man, Mary and the child, and +the last of the crew, reached St. Augustine.</p> + +<p>"We came thereto," he says, "about two hours before Night, and were +directed to the governor's house, where we were led up a pair of stairs, +at the Head whereof stood the governor, who ordered my Wife to be +conducted to his Wife's Apartment."</p> + +<p>There is something in the picture of poor Mary, after her months of +starvation and nakedness, coming into a lady's chamber again, "where was +a Fire and Bath and Cloathes," which has a curious pathos in it to a +woman.</p> + +<p>Robert Barrow and Dickenson were given clothes, and a plentiful supper +set before them.</p> + +<p>St. Augustine was then a collection of a few old houses grouped about +the fort; only a garrison, in fact, half supported by the king of Spain +and half by the Church of Rome. Its three hundred male inhabitants were +either soldiers or priests, dependent for supplies of money, clothing, +or bread upon Havana; and as the famine had lasted for two years, and it +was then three since a vessel had reached them from any place whatever, +their poverty was extreme. They were all, too, the "false Catholicks and +hireling Priests" whom, beyond all others, Dickenson distrusted and +hated. Yet the grim Quaker's hand seems to tremble as he writes down the +record of their exceeding kindness; of how they welcomed them, looking, +as they did, like naked furious beasts, and cared for them as if they +were their brothers. The governor of the fort clothed the crew warmly, +and out of his own great penury fed them abundantly. He was a reserved +and silent man, with a grave courtesy and an odd gentle care for the +woman and child that make him quite real to us. Dickenson does not even +give his name. Yet it is worth much to us to know that a brother of us +all lived on that solitary Florida coast two centuries ago, whether he +was pagan, Protestant, or priest.</p> + +<p>When they had rested for some time, the governor furnished canoes and an +escort to take them to Carolina,—a costly outfit in those +days,—whereupon Dickenson, stating that he was a man of substance, +insisted upon returning some of the charges to which the governor and +people had been put as soon as he reached Carolina. But the Spaniard +smiled and refused the offer, saying whatever he did was done for God's +sake. When the day came that they must go, "he walked down to see us +embark, and taking our Farewel, he embraced some of us, and wished us +well saying that <i>We should forget him when we got amongst our own +nation;</i> and I also added that <i>If we forgot him, God would not forget +him</i>, and thus we parted."</p> + +<p>The mischievous boy, John Hilliard, was found to have hidden in the +woods until the crew were gone, and remained ever after in the garrison +with the grave Spaniards, with whom he was a favorite.</p> + +<p>The voyage to Carolina occupied the month of December, being made in +open canoes, which kept close to the shore, the crew disembarking and +encamping each night. Dickenson tells with open-eyed wonder how the +Spaniards kept their holiday of Christmas in the open boat and through a +driving northeast storm; praying, and then tinkling a piece of iron for +music and singing, and also begging gifts from the Indians, who begged +from them in their turn; and what one gave to the other that they gave +back again. Our baby at least, let us hope, had Christmas feeling enough +to understand the laughing and hymn-singing in the face of the storm.</p> + +<p>At the lonely little hamlet of Charleston (a few farms cut out of the +edge of the wilderness) the adventurers were received with eagerness; +even the Spanish escort were exalted into heroes, and entertained and +rewarded by the gentlemen of the town. Here too Dickenson and Kirle sent +back generous gifts to the soldiers of St. Augustine, and a token of +remembrance to their friend, the governor. After two months' halt, "on +the eighteenth of the first month, called March," they embarked for +Pennsylvania, and on a bright cold morning in April came in sight of +their new home of Philadelphia. The river was gay with a dozen sail, and +as many brightly painted Indian pirogues darting here and there; a ledge +of green banks rose from the water's edge dark with gigantic hemlocks, +and pierced with the caves in which many of the settlers yet lived; +while between the bank and the forest were one or two streets of +mud-huts and of curious low stone houses sparkling with mica, among +which broad-brimmed Friends went up and down.</p> + +<p>The stern Quaker had come to his own life and to his own people again; +the very sun had a familiar home look for the first time in his journey. +We can believe that he rejoiced in his own solid, enduring way; gave +thanks that he had escaped the judgments of God, and closed his +righteous gates thereafter on aught that was alien or savage.</p> + +<p>The aged man rejoiced in a different way; for, being carried carefully +to the shore by many friends, they knowing that he was soon to leave +them, he put out his hand, ready to embrace them in much love, and in a +tender frame of spirit, saying gladly that the Lord had answered his +desire, and brought him home to lay his bones among them. From the +windows of the dusky library I can see the spot now, where, after his +long journey, he rested for a happy day or two, looking upon the dear +familiar faces and waving trees and the sunny April sky, and then gladly +and cheerfully bade them farewell and went onward.</p> + +<p>Mary had come at last to the pleasant home that had been waiting so long +for her, and there, no doubt, she nursed her baby, and clothed him in +soft fooleries again; and, let us hope, out of the fulness of her soul, +not only prayed, but, Quaker as she was, sang idle joyous songs, when +her husband was out of hearing.</p> + +<p>But the baby, who knew nothing of the judgments or mercy of God, and who +could neither pray nor sing, only had learned in these desperate straits +to grow strong and happy in the touch of sun and wind, and to hold out +its arms to friend or foe, slave or savage, sure of a welcome, and so +came closer to God than any of them all.</p> + +<p>Jonathan Dickenson became a power in the new principality; there are +vague traditions of his strict rule as mayor, his stately equipages and +vast estates. No doubt, if I chose to search among the old musty records, +I could find the history of his son. But I do not choose; I will not +believe that he ever grew to be a man, or died.</p> + +<p>He will always be to us simply a baby; a live, laughing baby, sent by +his Master to the desolate places of the earth with the old message of +Divine love and universal brotherhood to his children; and I like to +believe, too, that as he lay in the arms of his savage foster-mothers, +taking life from their life, Christ so took him into his own arms and +blessed him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/28.gif" alt="stop9"></center> +<br> +<br> +<br><a name="story9"></a> +<br> +<center><img src="images/29.gif" alt="banner10"></center> +<br> +<br> +<h3>A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR.</h3> +<center>BY CHARLES DICKENS.</center> +<p> </p> +<table align="left" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6" summary="letter t"> + <tr> + <td width="70"> + <img src="images/30.gif" alt="Letter T"> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p>here was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought +of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and his +constant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered +at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness +of the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; they +wondered at the goodness and the power of God who made the lovely world.</p> + +<p>They used to say to one another, sometimes, Supposing all the children +upon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky be +sorry? They believed they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds are +the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams that gambol +down the hillsides are the children of the water; and the smallest +bright specks playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, must surely +be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved to see their +playmates, the children of men, no more.</p> + +<p>There was one clear shining star that used to come out in the sky before +the rest, near the church-spire, above the graves. It was larger and +more beautiful, they thought, than all the others, and every night they +watched for it, standing hand in hand at the window. Whoever saw it +first, cried out, "I see the star!" And often they cried out both +together, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew to +be such friends with it, that before lying down in their beds, they +always looked out once again, to bid it good night; and when they were +turning round to sleep, they used to say, "God bless the star!"</p> + +<p>But while she was still very young, O, very, very young, the sister +drooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the +window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and +when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient pale face on +the bed, "I see the star!" and then a smile would come upon the face, +and a little weak voice used to say, "God bless my brother and the +star!"</p> + +<p>And so the time came, all too soon! when the child looked out alone, and +when there was no face on the bed; and when there was a little grave +among the graves, not there before; and when the star made long rays +down towards him, as he saw it through his tears.</p> + +<p>Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining +way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, +he dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw +a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star, +opening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels +waited to receive them.</p> + +<p>All these angels who were waiting turned their beaming eyes upon the +people who were carried up into the star; and some came out from the +long rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks, and +kissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, and +were so happy in their company, that lying in his bed he wept for joy.</p> + +<p>But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them one +he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed was glorified +and radiant, but his heart found out his sister among all the host.</p> + +<p>His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to +the leader among those who had brought the people thither,—</p> + +<p>"Is my brother come?"</p> + +<p>And he said, "No."</p> + +<p>She was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched out his arms, +and cried, "O sister, I am here! Take me!" And then she turned her +beaming eyes upon him and it was night; and the star was shining into +the room, making long rays down towards him as he saw it through his +tears.</p> + +<p>From that hour forth the child looked out upon the star as on the home +he was to go to, when his time should come; and he thought that he did +not belong to the earth alone, but to the star too, because of his +sister's angel gone before.</p> + +<p>There was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so +little that he never yet had spoken word, he stretched his tiny form out +on his bed and died.</p> + +<p>Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of angels, +and the train of people, and the rows of angels with their beaming eyes +all turned upon those people's faces.</p> + +<p>Said his sister's angel to the leader,—</p> + +<p>"Is my brother come?"</p> + +<p>And he said, "Not that one, but another."</p> + +<p>As the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms, he cried, "O sister, +I am here! Take me!" And she turned and smiled upon him, and the star +was shining.</p> + +<p>He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books when an old servant +came to him and said,—</p> + +<p>"Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on her darling son!"</p> + +<p>Again at night he saw the star, and all that former company. Said his +sister's angel to the leader,—</p> + +<p>"Is my brother come?"</p> + +<p>And he said, "Thy mother!"</p> + +<p>A mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star, because the mother +was reunited to her two children. And he stretched out his arms and +cried, "O mother, sister, and brother, I am here! Take me!" And they +answered him, "Not yet." And the star was shining.</p> + +<p>He grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in +his chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed +with tears, when the star opened once again.</p> + +<p>Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come?"</p> + +<p>And he said, "Nay, but his maiden daughter."</p> + +<p>And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, newly lost to him, +a celestial creature among those three, and he said, "My daughter's head +is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, and at +her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting from +her, God be praised!"</p> + +<p>And the star was shining.</p> + +<p>Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was +wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And +one night as he lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he cried, +as he had cried so long ago,—</p> + +<p>"I see the star!"</p> + +<p>They whispered one another, "He is dying."</p> + +<p>And he said, "I am. My age is falling from me like a garment, and I move +towards the star as a child. And O, my Father, now I thank thee that it +has so often opened, to receive those dear ones who await me!"</p> + +<p>And the star was shining; and it shines upon his grave.</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><img src="images/31.gif" alt="stop10"></center> +<br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories of Childhood, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF CHILDHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 15933-h.htm or 15933-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/3/15933/ + +Produced by Ron Swanson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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