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diff --git a/21764.txt b/21764.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c61f6a --- /dev/null +++ b/21764.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2034 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Child Stories from the Masters, by Maud Menefee + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Child Stories from the Masters + Being a Few Modest Interpretations of Some Phases of the + Master Works Done in a Child Way + +Author: Maud Menefee + +Release Date: June 8, 2007 [EBook #21764] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD STORIES FROM THE MASTERS *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Thomas Strong, Linda McKeown +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + CHILD STORIES + FROM THE MASTERS + + + BY + + MAUD MENEFEE + + +BEING A FEW MODEST INTERPRETATIONS + OF SOME PHASES OF THE MASTER + WORKS DONE IN A CHILD WAY + + + _ILLUSTRATED_ + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY +_CHICAGO_ _NEW YORK_ _LONDON_ + + + + +[Illustration: _By Jean Francois Millet_ + +THE SPINNER] + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1899, 1901 + By MAUD MENEFEE + + + + + TO + ANDREA HOFER + + + + +FOREWORD. + +In writing these stories, no attempt has been made to follow the plot or +problem of the poems, which in almost every case lies beyond the child's +reach. The simple purpose as found in the whole, or the suggestion of +only a stanza or scene, has been used as opportunity for picturing and +reflecting something of the poetry and intention of the originals. + +As story-teller to the same circle of children for several years, it +became necessary to draw upon the great literary fount for suggestion, +and it was found that "Pippa," the art child of industry, could add a +poetic impulse toward the handwork of spinning, thread-winding, weaving, +the making of spinning wheels, winders, and looms, without too great +violence to the original poem itself. + +"Mignon," as the creature of an art that exists for art's sake, was set +to contrast with Pippa, who through service finds a song to heal and to +inspire. + +"Siegfried" and "Parsifal," as knight stories, were given with their +musical _motifs_. + +The writer hopes for "Child Stories" that it may serve to suggest to +teachers how they may utilize the great store of poetry and art at hand. +To do this they are themselves under the joyful necessity of keeping +close to the great sources. On this last point Mr. Wm. T. Harris says: +"A view of the world is a perpetual stimulant to thought, always +prompting one to reflect on the immediate fact or event before him, and +to discover its relation to the ultimate principle of the universe. It +is the only antidote for the constant tendency of the teacher to sink +into a dead formalism, the effect of too much iteration and of the +practice of adjusting knowledge to the needs of the feeble-minded by +perpetual explanation of what is already simple _ad nauseam_ for the +mature intelligence of the teacher. It produces a sort of pedagogical +cramp in the soul, for which there is no remedy like a philosophical +view of the world, unless, perhaps, it be the study of the greatest +poets, Shakespere, Dante, and Homer." + +MAUD MENEFEE. + +Chicago, August, 1901. + + + + +THE TABLE OF CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + + PIPPA _Robert Browning_ 9 + From "Pippa Passes." + + MIGNON _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ 17 + From "Wilhelm Meister." + + SIEGFRIED _Richard Wagner_ 27 + From "Niebelungen Ring." + + A FISH AND A BUTTERFLY + _Robert Browning_ 39 + From "Amphibian." + + HOW MARGARET LED FAUST THROUGH THE PERFECT WORLD + _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ 45 + From "Faust." + + BEATRICE _Dante Alighieri_ 55 + From "The Inferno." + + PARSIFAL _Richard Wagner_ 61 + From "Parsifal." + + THE ANGELUS 67 + About the painting by Jean Francois Millet. + + FRIEDRICH AND HIS CHILD-GARDEN 73 + + THE HOLY NIGHT 79 + About the painting by Antonio Allegri da Correggio. + + SAUL AND DAVID _Robert Browning_ 95 + From "Saul." + + A GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION 103 + + A WORD LIST 103 + + + + +A LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + PAGE + + THE SPINNER _Jean Francois Millet_ _Frontispiece_ + + INNOCENCE _Jean Baptiste Greuze_ 10 + + MIGNON _Paul Kiessling_ 18 + + SIEGFRIED _F. Leeke_ 28 + + "AT THE FARTHEST END + OF THE MEADOW" _Yeend King_ 40 + + LISEUSE _Jules Le Febvre_ 46 + + THE BEATA BEATRICE _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_ 56 + + ASPIRATION _George Frederick Watts_ 62 + + THE ANGELUS _Jean Francois Millet_ 68 + + THE HOLY NIGHT _Antonio Allegri da Correggio_ 80 + + THE DIVINE SHEPHERD _Bartolome Esteban Murillo_ 96 + + + + +[Illustration: _By Jean Baptiste Greuze_ + +INNOCENCE] + + +A SONG. + + The year's at the spring + The day's at the morn; + Morning's at seven; + The hill-side's dew-pearled; + The lark's on the wing; + The snail's on the thorn: + God's in his heaven-- + All's right with the world! + + --_From Browning's "Pippa Passes."_ + + +PIPPA. + + +All the year in the little village of Asola the great wheels of the +mills went round and round. It seemed to the very little children that +they never, never stopped, but went on turning and singing, turning and +singing. No matter where you went in the village, the hum of the wheels +could always be heard; and though no one could really say what the +wheels sang, everyone turned gladly to his work or went swiftly on his +errand when he heard the busy song. + +Everyone was proud of the mills in Asola, and the children most of all. +The very little ones would go to the lowest windows and look into the +great dim room where the wheels were, and they wondered, as they looked, +if ever they would grow wise enough to help make silk. + +Those children who were older wound thread on the bobbins, or helped at +the looms. And whenever they saw the bright stuff in shop windows, or a +beautiful woman passed in silken robes, they looked with shining eyes. +"See how beautiful!" they would say. "We helped. She needs us; the world +needs us!" and their hearts were so full of gladness at the thought. + +The poet tells us there was a child there whose name was Pippa, and she +worked all day in this mill, winding silk on the little whirling, +whirling spools. + +Now in the year there was one day they gave her for her own--one perfect +day when she could walk in the sweet, sweet meadows, or wander toward +the far, strange hills. And this one precious day was so shining and +full of joy to Pippa that its light shone all about her until the next, +making itself into dreams and little songs that she sang to her whirring +spools. + +One night, when the blessed time would be next morning, she said to the +day: + +"Sweet Day, I am Pippa, and have only you for the joy of my whole long +year; come to me gentle and shining, and I will do whatever loving deed +you bring me." + +And the blessed day broke golden and perfect! + +She sprang up singing; she sang to the sunbeams, and to her lily, and to +the joy in the world; she ran out, and leaped as she went; the grass +blew in the wind, and the long yellow road rolled away like unwound +silk. + +She sang on and on, hardly knowing. And it was a sweet song no one had +ever heard. It was what birds sing, only this had words; and this song +was so full of joy that when a sad poet heard it he stopped the lonely +tune he piped, and listened till his heart thrilled. And when he could +no longer hear, he took up the sweet strain and played it so strong and +clear that it set the whole air a-singing. The children in the street +began dancing and laughing as he played; the old looked up; a lame man +felt that he might leap, and the blind who begged at corners forgot they +did not see, the song was so full of the morning wonder. + +But little Pippa did not know this; she had passed on singing. + +Out beyond the village there were men who worked, building a lordly +castle. And there was a youth among them who was a stair-builder, and he +had a deep sorrow. The dream of the perfect and beautiful work was in +his life, but it was given to him to build only the stairs men trod on. +And as he knelt working wearily at his task, from somewhere beyond the +thicket there came a strange, sweet song, and these were the words: + + "All service ranks the same with God: + ... there is no last nor first." + +The youth sprang up; the wind lifted his hair, the light leaped into +his eyes, and he began to do the smallest thing perfectly. + +Farther down the road there was a ruined house; a man leaned his head on +his hand and looked from the window. A great deed that the world needed +must be done; and the man loved the great deed, but his heart had grown +faint, and he waited. + +And it chanced that Pippa passed, singing, and her song reached the man; +and it was to him as if God called. He rose up strong and brave, and +leaping to his horse he rode away to give the great deed to the world. + +At night when the tired Pippa lay upon her little bed, she said to the +day, "Sweet Day, you brought me no loving deed to give in payment for +the joy you gave." + +But the day knew. + +And on the morrow, the child Pippa went back to the mill and wound the +silk bobbins, and she was so full of gladness, she hummed with them all +day. + + + + + Know'st thou the land where citrons are in bloom, + The orange glows amidst a leafy gloom, + A gentle breeze from cloudless heaven blows + The myrtle still, and high the laurel grows? + Know'st thou it well? + Ah! there--Ah, there would I fare! + + --_From Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister."_ + + +[Illustration: _By Paul Kiessling_ + +MIGNON] + + +MIGNON. + + +Once there was a band of people who did nothing but wander about from +village to village, giving shows in the marketplaces. They had no homes +or gardens or fields, but the fathers earned the living by doing +remarkable things. + +The little children played in the wagons, and the mothers cooked the +meals over the camp-fire when they stopped outside the village, and they +were quite happy after their own fashion. But often, when they passed +down the streets between the rows of thatched houses with children +playing in the yards, it all seemed to them something very beautiful +indeed, and they looked at it as long as it was possible. + +The little girl of the strong man, and the little boy whose father +walked on his hands, often stood a long, long time looking through the +fence at children who had real hollyhocks in their yards, besides a +little green tree growing right out of the thatch on the top of the +roof; and in some of the houses, where the doors stood open, they could +see the most shining pans and kettles ranged about the chimney. + +But whenever they made a beautiful playhouse, with all the leaves +brushed away and the rooms marked out with little sticks, they had to +leave it next day. This was very discouraging, of course. Even the +fathers and mothers grew discouraged sometimes, when they rode through +the beautiful country. It was so sweet and so fair, and somehow it +really seemed calling to them in a loving voice. But they always went on +and on, from place to place, and no one ever knew what the real message +was. But sometimes, deep in the strong man's heart there grew the +strangest longing to go into the fields and reap and bind with the +reapers, so that he too might see the yellow sheaves standing together +when work was over. + +In this circus, where he lifted the heaviest weights, and held the +little boy and his own little girl straight out with his hands quite a +long time, it was very wonderful indeed. But there was never anything +after, to show it had been done, except a great deal of clapping and +calling from the people. And this was partly for the children, who had +such round, pleasant faces, and ran away just as soon as the father put +them down. The strong man was always thinking of this when he walked +beside the wagon and looked off over the fields where the men were +working. And it was so with all of them; but as no one spoke of it they +were thought to be a very gay company, for they laughed quite often. And +after all, it did seem to them a very grand thing when they entered the +village. The people ran to the doors and windows, and streamed out of +the inn; and the children ran after the wagon, looking at them with the +greatest wonder. + +Whatever sadness they may have felt about their life, they forgot it +entirely when they stood before the people in their spangled suits. Then +it seemed to them quite the greatest thing to make a whole village +stare. They walked about very proudly, and talked in very deep tones. +Sometimes they allowed one or two of the largest boys to help make ready +for the show. In one of the villages, the shoemaker's lame Charlie had +helped lay the carpet on which the strong man stood when he did his +part. + +Among these people who went about there was a child. Her name was +Mignon; and when the tumblers had leaped over the high rods and stood +upon each other's shoulders for the last time, and the strong man had +bowed and gone away amid the greatest applause, this Mignon danced for +the people. When it was very still, and the strange, beautiful music +had sounded, she would come slowly forward, and placing her hands on her +breast she would bow very low, and begin to stir and sway in time. How +beautiful it was! It was like a flower in the wind, and all the people +stood still and looked with wonder. + +Sometimes she sang; it was the strangest song that ever was sung by a +child. It was always about far-off lands, where it seemed to her the +real joy was. Tears shone in the eyes of all the people as they +listened, and when it was over and they were again at their work, a deep +sadness seemed in everything. They too had begun to think that the real +joy might be a long, long way off from them. + +And Mignon went on from village to village, singing and dancing and +seeking. Always she was thinking, "Who knows but tomorrow, in the next +village or the next, I will find the real joy? it will come to me as I +sing or stir with the beautiful music!" + +But, children, Mignon never found it. + +The feet that were meant to fly on loving errands only danced, and +though it was so beautiful it was really nothing, and the real joy was +not in it. + +Do you not know that every little child that comes into the world has a +blessed deed in its life? But with Mignon it only lay heavy on her +heart, and she was more weary than any child who serves all day. And +after awhile this weariness grew as deep as her life, and the poet tells +us that she died. We read in his strange book that they bore her to the +dim hall of the Past, and that she lay there white and beautiful. Four +boys clothed in blue with silver stood beside her, slowly waving white +plumes. And when the people had come in and stood together very +silently, the most beautiful singing voices began-- + +"'Whom bring ye us to the still dwelling?'" + +The four boys answered: + +"''Tis a tired playmate whom we bring you. Let her rest in your still +dwelling. Let us weep. Let us remain with her!'" + +But the sweet voices rang out, + +"'Children, turn back into life! Your tears let the fresh air dry. Haste +back into life! Let the day give you _labor_ and _joy_, till evening +bring you rest.'" + +And the listening children understood. + + + + +SIEGFRIED'S SILVER HORN. + +[Music:] + + _Richard Wagner._ + + +[Illustration: + +_By F. Leeke_ + +SIEGFRIED] + + +THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED. + + +Long, long ago, before the sun learned to shine so brightly, people +believed very strange things. Why, even the wisest thought storm clouds +were war-maidens riding, and that a wonderful shining youth brought the +springtime; and whenever sunlight streamed into the water they said to +one another, "See, it is some of the shining gold, some of the magic +Rhine-gold. Ah, if we should find the Rhine-gold we would be masters of +the world--the whole world;" and they would stretch out their arms and +look away on every side. Even little children began looking for the +hidden gold as they played, and they say that Odin, a god who lived in +the very deepest blue of the sky, came down and lay in the grass to +watch the place where he thought it was. + +Now this gold was hidden in the very deepest rocky gorge, and a dragon +that everyone feared lay upon it night and day. Almost all the people in +the world were wanting and seeking this gold; it really seemed sometimes +that they were forgetting everything else, even the sweet message and +the deed they had brought the world. Some of them went about dreaming +and thinking of all the ways there were of finding it. But they seldom +did anything of all they thought, so they were called the Mist-men. And +there were others, who worked always, digging in the darkest caverns of +the mountains, and lived underground and almost forgot the real light, +watching for the glow of the gold. These were called the Earth-dwarfs, +for they grew very small and black living away from the light. But there +were a great many blessed ones who lived quite free and glad in the +world, loving and serving one another and not thinking very much of the +gold. + +There was a boy whose name was Siegfried, and though he lived with an +Earth-dwarf in the deep forest, he knew nothing of the magic gold or the +world. He had never seen a man, and he had not known his mother, even, +though he often thought of her when he stood still at evening and the +birds came home. There was one thing she had left him, and that was a +broken sword. Mimi, the Earth-dwarf, strove night and day to mend it, +thinking he might slay the dragon. But though he worked always, it was +never done, for no one who feared anything in the world could weld it, +because it was an immortal blade. It had a name and a soul. + +Each evening when Siegfried thought of his sword he would come bounding +down the mountains, blowing great horn-blasts. One night he came +laughing and shouting, and leaped into the cave, driving a bear he had +bridled, straight on the poor frightened Mimi. He ran round and round, +and darted here and there, until Siegfried could go no more for +laughing, and the bear broke from the rope and ran into the woods. When +Siegfried turned he saw that the poor little dwarf was crouched +trembling behind the anvil, and he stopped laughing, and looked at him. + +"Why do you shake and cry and run?" he asked. The dwarf said nothing, +but the fire began to glow strangely, and the sword shone. + +"Do you not know what fear is?" cried the dwarf at last. + +"No," said the boy, and he went over and took up the sword; and lo! the +blade fell apart in his hand. They stood still and looked at each other. +"Can a man fear and make swords?" asked the boy. The dwarf said nothing, +but the forge fire flashed and sparkled, and the broken sword gleamed, +in the strangest way. + +The boy smiled, and gathering up the pieces he ground them to fine +powder; and when he had done, he placed the precious dust in the forge +and pulled at the great bellows, so that the fire glowed into such a +shining that the whole cave was light. + +But the dwarf grew blacker and smaller as he watched the boy. When he +saw him pour the melted steel in the mold and lay it on the fire, and +heard him singing at his work, he began to rage and cry; but Siegfried +only laughed and went on singing. When he took out the bar and struck it +into the water there was a great hissing, and the Mist-men stood there +with Mimi, and they raged and cried together. But still Siegfried only +laughed and sang as he pulled at his bellows or swung his hammers. At +every blow he grew stronger and greater, and the sword bent and quivered +like a living flame, until at last, with a joyful cry, he lifted it +above his head with both his hands; it fell with a great blow, and +behold! the anvil was severed, and lay apart before him. + +The joy in Siegfried's heart grew into the most wonderful peace, and +the forge light seemed to grow into full day. The immortal sword was +again in the world. But Mimi and the Mist-men were gone. + +And the musician shows in wonderful music-pictures how Siegfried went +out into the early morning, and how the light glittered on the trembling +leaves and sifted through in little splashes. He stood still, listening +to the stir of the leaves and the hum of the bees and the chirp of the +birds. Two birds were singing as they built a nest, and he wondered what +they said to one another. He cut a reed and tried to mock their words, +but it was like nothing. He began to wish that he might speak to some +one like himself, and he wondered about his mother; why had she left +him? It seemed to him he was the one lone thing in the world. He lifted +his silver horn and blew a sweet blast, but no friend came. He blew +again and again, louder and clearer, until suddenly the leaves stirred +to a great rustling; and the very earth seemed to tremble. He looked, +and behold! he had waked the dragon that all men feared; and it was +coming toward him, breathing fire and smoke. But Siegfried did not know +what fear was; he only laughed and leaped over it, as he plunged; and +when it reared to spring upon him, he drove the immortal blade straight +into its heart. + +Now when Siegfried plucked out his sword he smeared his finger with the +blood, and it burned like fire, so that he put it in his mouth to ease +the pain. Then suddenly the most strange thing happened: he understood +all the hum and murmur of the woods; and lo! the bird on the very branch +above was singing of his mother and of him, and of the gold that was his +if he would give up his sword and would love and serve none in the +world. And more, she sang on of one who slept upon a lonely mountain: a +wall of fire burned around, that none could pass but he who knew no +fear. + +Siegfried listened to hear more, but the bird fluttered away before +him. He saw it going, and he forgot the gold and the whole world, and +followed it. It led him on and on, to a lonely mountain, where he saw +light burning; and he climbed up and up, and always the light grew +brighter. But when he was nearly at the top, and would have bounded on, +he could not, for Odin stood there with his spear across the way. The +fire glowed and flashed around them, but the sword gleamed brighter than +anything that ever shone, as Siegfried cleft the mighty spear and leaped +into the flame. And there at last, in the great shining, this Siegfried +beheld a mortal like himself. He stood still in wonder. He saw the light +glinting on armor, and he thought, "I have found a knight, a friend!" +And he went over and took the helmet from the head. Long ruddy hair, +like flame, fell down. Then he raised the shield, and behold! in white +glistening robes he saw the maid Brunhilde. And she was so beautiful! +The light glowed into a great shining as he looked, and, hardly +knowing, he leaned and kissed her, and she awoke. + +And it seemed to Siegfried that he had found his mother and the whole +world. + + + + + Yes! there came floating by + Me, who lay floating too. + Such a strange butterfly! + Creature as dear as new: + + * * * * * + + I never shall join its flight, + For, naught buoys flesh in air. + If it touch the sea--good night! + Death sure and swift waits there. + + --_From Browning's "Amphibian."_ + + +[Illustration: + +By Yeend King + +"AT THE FARTHEST END OF THE MEADOW"] + + +A FISH AND A BUTTERFLY. + + +At the very farthest end of the meadow there is water, blue with sky. It +flows on and on, growing broad and strong farther down, to turn the mill +wheel. But here in the meadow, you can see far off on the other side, +and hear the cows ripping off the tender grass, and smell the perfume of +wild plums. + +Boy Blue lay in the long cool grass watching the water. How sleepily it +moved, and what a pretty song it sang! How clear! he could count the +pebbles at the bottom; and there, swimming straight toward him, came a +tiny fish, making little darts from one side to another, and snapping at +the tadpoles on the way. Then he stopped just in front of him. + +"Oh, dear!" said a voice; and the little boy could not tell whether it +was the fish, or the tomtit scolding on the elder bush. "Dear me!" came +the voice again; and the little fish sighed, making a bubble on the top +of the water, and rings that grew and grew till they reached the other +bank. + +"What's the matter?" asked Boy Blue. + +"I'd like a new play and new playmates," sighed the fish. "I'm so tired +of the old ones!" + +"Oh," said the boy, and was just about to ask, "Would I do?" when there +came floating along in the air a beautiful butterfly, floating, floating +like a ship in full sail. + +"Oh!" cried the fish, "how beautiful! how beautiful! Come let us play +together--let us play." + +The butterfly rested on a thistle bloom and stirred her pale wings +thoughtfully. "Play?" she said. + +"Yes, let us play. How beautiful thou art!" + +"And thou!" said the butterfly; "all the shine of the sun and sea gleams +in thy armor. Let us play together." + +"Let us play." + +"Come then," said the butterfly; "come up into the fresh morning air and +the sunlight, where everything smiles this sweet May day." + +"There?" cried the fish; "I would die there; I would die! There is no +life for me in your sunshine world. But come with me into this +glittering stream; here swimming against the swift current is strong +life. Come, let us play here." + +But the butterfly trembled. "There?" she cried; "if I touched one single +little wave I should be swept out and away forever. There is no life for +me in the glittering stream." + +They looked across at each other. + +"But see," said the butterfly, "I will come as near as I dare to your +water world;" and she spread her beautiful wings and floated down to the +edge of the water. The fish with a great stroke swam toward her. But +they could only touch the same bit of earth, and the waves always bore +him back. + +"Ah," he cried at last, "it is useless! we cannot play together." + +"Ah," wept the butterfly, "we cannot play together." + +"Boy Blue," said the farmer, brushing aside the long grass, "you were +asleep." + +"Asleep!" said the little boy, jumping up; "I couldn't have been. I +heard every word the fish and the butterfly said." + + + + + The indescribable-- + Here it is done; + The woman soul + Leadeth us upward and on. + + --_From Goethe's "Faust."_ + + +[Illustration: + +_By Jules Le Febvre_ + +LISEUSE] + + +HOW MARGARET LED FAUST THROUGH THE PERFECT WORLD. + + +There was once a very great man who understood all of the most +mysterious things in the world. He knew quite perfectly how spiders spun +and how the firefly kept his lantern burning. All of these marvelous +things were plain to him, for he had read everything that had been +written in books, and he had spent his whole life searching and peering +through a strange glass at the most wonderful small things. Always and +always he was thinking in his heart, "When I know _everything_ then I +shall be content, surely!" + +So he went on searching and looking and reading, night and day, in his +dim room. Always he was growing older and wearier, but he did not think +of that; he only knew that the strange longing was growing in his +heart, and that he was never any happier than before. But he would say +to himself, "It is because there is something I have not learned. When I +know everything, then surely the joy will come to me." + +One night he shut his book and laid aside the strange glass, and sat +quite still in the dim room. He had found that there was nothing more to +be learned; there was nothing of all the mysteries that he did not know +perfectly. + +And behold, the longing was still in his heart, and no gladness came. He +only felt how weary and old he was. He thought: "There _is_ no joy in +the world; there is nothing good and perfect in the whole world!" He +closed his tired eyes and leaned his head back. The lamp burned low, and +the place was very still for a long time. And then there suddenly broke +the most beautiful music right under his window; children were singing, +and men and women, and above it all bells were ringing--wonderful, +joyous bells. + +"Can it be," said the old man--"can it be that anyone is really joyful +in the world?" He rose up and went to the window, and thrust back the +great curtain. + +And lo! it was morning! + +The most beautiful, shining morning; people were pouring out of all the +houses, smiling and singing, and bowing to one another; little children +were going together with flowers in their hands, singing, and answering +the tones of the great bells; and one little child, as it passed, looked +right up at the great Doctor Faust, and held out its white lily. The +bells chimed, and the singing grew sweeter and clearer. + +"If there is something joyful in the world, surely some one will tell +me," said the man; and he went out into the morning. + +It had rained in the night; there were pools in the street, and the +leaves glistened. "How bright the light is!" he thought, and "how +strange the flowers look blooming in the sun!" But the birds flew away +when he came, and this made the strange longing in the lonely man's +heart grow into pain. So he stepped back in the shadow and looked into +all the happy faces as they passed, and listened to the singing. + +But no one stopped to tell him anything. They were so full of joy that +they did not feel his touch, and his words when he spoke were swept +right up into the song and the pealing of the joy-bells. + +Girls in white veils, with stalks of the most beautiful lilies in their +hands, passed him in a long line, and the boys came after, in new +clothes, and shoes that squeaked. But he only saw their shining, +upturned faces. They were so beautiful as they sang, that tears stood in +the smiling eyes of all the fathers and mothers and neighbors who +followed after. Little children holding each other's hands went +together, and one little one had a queer woolly lamb on wheels trundling +behind him. + +"Can it be," said the old man, "that there is a deep joy in the world? +will no one tell me?" And he turned and went with the people; and after +awhile he met a young girl. + +She was not singing, but the most beautiful light shone from her face; +so he knew she was thinking of the deep joy, and he asked her what it +was, and why the people were glad. + +She looked at him with loving wonder, and then she told him it was +Easter morning, when everything in the wide world remembers fully that +the joy can never die. "It is here always," she told him. + +"Always?" said the old man; and he shook his head sadly. + +"Always," she said; and she took his hand and led him out of the throng +into the most beautiful ways. He did not know that in the whole world +there were such wonderful grassy lanes. Why, there were hedges with +star-flowers here and there; apple trees were blooming, and between the +cottages there were gardens where seed had sprung up in rows. + +In some of the houses people were going about their homely tasks, and +they were singing softly, or saying the most gentle words to one another +as they worked. And before a very humble door, where only one tall lily +bloomed, there sat a beautiful mother with a baby on her knee and a +little one beside her; and they were looking straight into her eyes, +listening to the wonderful story of the Easter morning. The father +stopped to listen too, and in every single face shone the same holy +light. + +It shone even in the face of the Faust as he passed. + +And behold, when Margaret looked at him he had grown young. His hair +glinted in the sun and the wonder had come back to his eyes. Butterflies +circled above them, and they went on and on, free and glad together, and +the holy light was over everything. + +But the poet tells us that afterwards Faust traveled into a very +strange, far world, where there was never any silence or living flowers. +Nothing was perfect or holy there, and Margaret could not go. But they +tell us that whenever he looked away from this strange world, he heard +again the singing, and smelled the faint fragrance of lilies, and it +seemed to him that he was there again in the light, with the blessed +Margaret leading him on forever. + + + + + Oh, eternal light! + For I therein, methought, in its own hue, + Beheld our image painted. + + --_From Dante's "Paradise."_ + + +[Illustration: + +_By Dante Gabriel Rossetti_ + +THE BEATA BEATRICE] + + +BEATRICE. + + +Dear children, there is a great story of Heaven told by a poet called +Dante, who dreamed that he was led through Heaven by the beautiful +Beatrice. + +And this is how it was. Dante had come to think so many unloving +thoughts of all the people, that whenever he went about the streets of +Florence where he lived, he thought he saw evil marks on all the faces. +And it seemed to him that everyone in the world was lost from God. And +the angry sorrow in his heart grew so great that there was not a single +loving, hopeful thought in it. Then there came to him a wonderful +vision. It seemed to him that Beatrice, whom he loved, came down from +God and spoke to him and led him up, and showed him Heaven. + +But his eyes were so dim at first, it seemed only the shining of a few +small stars. But as they journeyed, Beatrice spoke to him of many things +he had not understood, and while she talked, Heaven grew plainer and he +saw that the stars were all shining together in a soft radiance, like +the halos of many saints. And the wisdom of the world began to slip from +Dante, and he stood there in Heaven as a little child. + +Beatrice led him on and on, and whenever she wished him to see Heaven +more plainly she talked of the world he lived in and the men he hated. +Now when one who lives with God speaks of hate, it is nothing. And as he +listened, Dante began to see that Man was in Heaven. When he had learned +this, they went with a great flight up to God. And behold! it seemed to +Dante that the higher he went in Heaven the nearer home he came, for all +around him there were faces that he knew. + +And they went on and on to the very highest Heaven, where God and man +live together, and the angels cannot tell God from man or man from God. +And Beatrice showed Dante this great mystery. And he stood still, +looking, with the great light shining into his eyes. + +Although he does not tell us what he saw, we know it was Florence, where +he lived, and that he was looking at all the people with loving eyes, +and seeing them just as those who live with God see men. + +Heaven is here, little children. Let us love one another. + + + + +FROM "PARSIFAL." + +[Music: By pity 'lightened, the guileless Fool;] + + --_Richard Wagner._ + + +[Illustration: _By George Frederick Watts_ + +ASPIRATION] + + +PARSIFAL. + + +Long, long ago, when the old nations were child-nations, they had the +most wonderful dreams and stories in their hearts; and they told them +over so many, many times, with love and wonder, that they grew into +Art,--poems and songs and pictures. And there is one beautiful story +which you will find in many songs and poems, for almost every nation has +told it in its own way. And this is it: + +Long, long ago--so long that no one can tell whether it really happened +or whether the old German folk only dreamed it--there was a band of +knights who went away and lived together on a beautiful high mountain, +far above the world, where no evil might ever come to them; and there +they thought of nothing but pure and holy things. The purest knight was +chosen king among them, and led them in all high things; and they lived +so for many years, keeping themselves from wrong and beholding blessed +wonders that the world had never seen,--miracles of light that sometimes +passed above them. + +But once there came an evil thought to the very king; nothing could put +it away, and it was like a spear-wound in his side that nothing could +heal. It was the greatest suffering; it even touched the joy of the +knights, for they began to think only of what would heal the king. Many +went far and wide, seeking a cure, while others dropped back to the +world again; for the pattern of purity was not perfect any longer, and +they seemed to forget what it had been. All the miracles stopped, and +the sick king and the knights waited and waited for one who was pure +enough to show them the perfect pattern again. + +And one day a youth passed by who was so innocent that he did not know +what wrong was. When the knights beheld him they looked in wonder, and +said: "Is it not he, the innocent one, who will save us?" and they led +him up to the temple. And behold, it was the time of the holy feast, +when long ago the light had passed above them. And the youth stood there +with great wonder and trouble in his heart, for he saw the suffering of +the king, and how the knights longed and waited; he heard their voices +in solemn tones, and the mourning voice of the king. And lo, while he +looked, a wonderful glowing light passed above them. The knights all +rose up with great joy in their hearts and looked at the boy, for the +blessed miracle had come again, and it was a sign. + +But Parsifal stood still with wonder and trouble in his heart; and when +they asked if he knew what his eyes had seen, he only shook his head. + +So the hope and joy went from the knights, and they led him out and sent +him on his way. + +And the boy Parsifal traveled down into the world. And as he went he met +many wrongs, and he began to know what evils there were. + +Now whenever one crossed his way, he went to it and handled it. But +behold his mind was so pure and godlike that whenever he touched evil to +learn what it was, it grew into some gentle thing in his hand. He went +throughout the whole world seeking to know what evil was, but he was so +mild and beautiful that wrongs fell away before him, or were healed as +he passed. And he went on and on to the very kingdom of Evil, at last, +and when its king saw him, he cried out with a great cry, and hurled his +spear; but it only floated above the head of Parsifal, and when he +seized it in his hand the whole kingdom melted away. And Parsifal found +he was standing in a sunny meadow not far from the holy mountain; and he +went up to the knights and stood with them in the temple, and his face +was like the face of an angel. They say the king was healed as he +looked, and that the wonderful light shone above them and was with them +always,--forever. + + + + + Where the quiet colored end of evening smiles, + Miles and miles. + + --_Robert Browning._ + + +[Illustration: _By Jean Francois Millet_ + +THE ANGELUS] + + +THE ANGELUS. + + +Every evening after sunset, when the most wonderful soft light is in the +sky and it is very still everywhere, the old bell in the steeple chimes +out over the village and the fields around. No one quite knows what the +evening bell sings, but the tone is so beautiful that everyone stands +still and listens. + +Ever since the oldest grandfather can remember, the dear bell has sung +at evening and everyone has listened, and listened, for the message. + +A great many people said there was really no message at all, and one +very learned man wrote a whole book to show that the song of the evening +bell was nothing but the clanging of brass and iron; and almost everyone +who read it believed it. But there were many who were not wise enough to +read, so they listened to the sweet tone just as lovingly as they had +listened when they were little children. + +Sometimes when the sweet song pealed out, the old shoemaker would forget +and leave his thread half drawn, and while he listened a wonderful +smiling light shone in his face. But whenever the little grandson asked +him what the bell said to him, the old man only shook his head and +pulled the stitch through and sewed on and on, until there was not any +more light; and for this reason the little boy began to think that the +bell was singing something about work. He thought of it very often when +he sat on his grandfather's step listening to the song and watching the +people. Sometimes those who had read the learned book spoke together and +laughed quite loudly, to show that they were not paying any attention to +the bell; and there were others who seemed not to hear it at all. But +there were some who listened just as the old grandfather had listened, +and many who stopped and bowed their heads and stood quite still for a +long, long while. But the strangest was, that no one ever could tell the +other what the bell had sung to him. It was really a very deep mystery. + +Now there was a painter who had such loving eyes that even when he +looked on homely, lowly things, he saw wonder that no one else could +see. He loved all the sweet mysteries that are in the world, and he +loved the bell's song; he wondered about it just as the little boy had +done. + +One evening, I think, he went alone beyond the village and through the +wide brown fields; he saw the light in the sky, and the birds going +home, and the steeple far off. It was all very still and wonderful, and +as he looked away on every side, thinking many holy thoughts, he saw a +man and a woman working together in the dim light. They were digging +potatoes; there was a wheelbarrow beside them, and a basket. Sometimes +they moved about slowly, or stooped with their hands in the brown earth. +And while they worked, the sound of the evening bell came faintly to +them. When they heard it they rose up. The mother folded her hands on +her breast and said the words of a prayer, and thought of her little +ones. The father just held his hat in his hand and looked down at their +work. And the painter forgot all the wonder of the sky and the wide +field as he looked at them, for there was a deeper mystery. And it was +plain to him. + +But the man and the woman stood there listening; they did not know that +the bell was singing to them of their very own work, of every loving +service and lowly task of the day. + +The bell sang on and on, and the peace of the song seemed to fill the +whole day. + + + + + Come, let us with the children live. + + --_Friedrich Froebel_ + + +FRIEDRICH AND HIS CHILD-GARDEN. + + +Friedrich Froebel--"Little Friedrich," they called him long ago. Is it +not strange to think that the great men who bring the beautiful deeds to +the world were once little children? Do you know how these children grow +so great and strong that they can do a loving deed for the whole world +at last? They do little loving deeds every day. + +This gentle Friedrich loved more and more things every day that he +lived. But when he was a little boy he was very lonely sometimes, +because he had no playmates except the flowers in the old garden. It +seemed to him these flowers were always playing plays together. The +little pink and white ones on the border of the beds seemed always +circling round the sweet tall rose, and laughing and swaying in the +wind. It was so gay sometimes that he laughed aloud to see them all +nodding and bowing, and the rose bowing too. + +Friedrich was so gentle that his doves would flutter around his head and +settle on his outstretched arms, and even the little mother bird, with +her nest in the hedge, would let him stand near when she told little +stories to her babies. Friedrich had no dear mother, but he had a tall, +strong brother who would sometimes take him to the sweet wide meadows +and tell him beautiful stories about the strange little bugs and busy +bees, and stones and flowers. + +But after awhile Friedrich's father thought he was growing too old to +play all day long. So he said to him one day, "Friedrich, you must begin +to learn." When Friedrich heard this he was glad, because he wanted to +know about all the wonderful things in the world. But when he had to +sit still for long hours and learn out of large books that hadn't a +single picture, it was very hard. "But there is no other way, little +Friedrich," his teachers told him. + +As the time went on he grew as tall and strong as his brother. And then +what do you think happened? Just the same thing that happened to our +America when George Washington led out all the brave men. Friedrich's +dear Germany was in great trouble, and she called to all her brave men +to come and save her. And Friedrich marched away with all the +others--marching, marching, with the drums beating and the flags flying. + +Then after a long while, when peace had come back and all was quiet and +joyful again, there came to Friedrich a sweet thought that grew and +grew. Can you think what it was? It was half about his old garden and +the playing flowers, and half about little children. Whenever he saw a +child tear a flower or stone a bird he felt sad, and this thought would +grow stronger in his heart. + +Sometimes he would gather up all the children and take them to the +meadow, and teach them about the leaves and stones, the flowers and +birds and ants, as his brother used to teach him, and then they would +play the very plays the wind and flowers and birds had played. So he +called it his kindergarten,--his child-garden,--and he began to show to +the whole world that little children must learn and grow in the same +sweet way that flowers do. + +And he worked years and years, teaching and working out this wonderful +message that had come to him. He loved God and children and this shining +thought better than himself, and he wore poor clothes and gave up +things, that the beautiful deed might live in the world. + + + + +The true light, which lighteth every man that cometh + into the world. + --_St. John._ + + +[Illustration: _By Antonio Allegri da Correggio_ + +THE HOLY NIGHT] + + +THE HOLY NIGHT. + + +In the far-off places of the world where men do not pass often, it is +nothing to be poor. Little Hansei and his mother were poor, but that was +nothing to him. They lived on the side of a great hill, where, save +their small black hut with its little gauzy curl of smoke, there was no +sign of life as far as eye could reach. And it seemed to Hansei that the +whole world was theirs, and they were the whole world. Yet on fair days, +far below, the misty towers and steeples of a city showed. But this was +as unreal and unreachable as dreams and clouds to Hansei; the only +difference was, a yellow road wound down to it, and if one went far +enough he might some day reach that strange, misty place. But +dreams--they always went at morning; and clouds--if he climbed to the +highest point of the hill he could never reach them! + +Sometimes people had passed that way. Once a man had gone bearing a +burden. Another time, as Hansei and his mother gathered up their fagots +at evening, a man and woman passed together; the sunset light was on the +woman, and she sang as she went. Again, men in dark robes and hoods +passed by; some had ridden on mules, some were grave and walked, reading +from small books, others laughed. And these were all (except a peddler +who had lost his way) that Hansei had ever seen go by. + +People seldom went that way; the road was steep, and there was an easier +way down at the other side, his mother said. + +Once Hansei asked her if those who had passed were all the people there +were besides themselves. His mother said, "There are others off there," +pointing to the city. + +Every morning before it was light Hansei's mother went away to the other +side of the hills somewhere. + +The first time he awoke and found the black loaf and water waiting and +his mother gone, he had cried and searched and called her over and over. +"Mother! Mother!" he had cried as loud as he could call down the yellow +road. + +"Mother! Mother!" had come a strange voice from beyond the hills; and +Hansei's heart had leaped with a new joy. He cried back wildly, "Where +are you?" + +"Where are you?" cried the voice again. + +"I am here!" + +"I am here!" + +"Come to me!" + +"Come to me!" + +All day Hansei and the strange voice from beyond the hills called and +cried to each other. Hansei thought: "It is true there are others off +there, and some one is calling to me." + +At night the mother came back. Hansei asked: "Where have you been?" and +put up his arms. His mother said: "At the other side of the hill," and +touched his head gently. + +"What did you do so long?" + +"I made lace." + +"What is lace?" + +"It is like that a little," and she pointed to a cobweb stretching from +a dead twig to a weed. Hansei looked and slowly put his foot through it. + +"Must you go tomorrow and next day?" he asked. + +"Next day and always," said the mother, looking off down the yellow +road. + +Hansei cried: "Let me go too; let me go!" + +"Hush, no; it is dark where I go." + +"Is there no sun at the other side of the hill?" + +"Yes, yes; but we who make lace sit in darkness." + +Hansei asked: "Why must there be lace?" + +The mother stared into the dusk. "Because," she said slowly, "there are +princesses and great ladies down there who must be beautiful." + +"What is beautiful?" + +"I don't know." + +Always through the dusky summer evenings they sat together on the +doorstep, the mother with her bent head resting on her hand, and Hansei +staring up at the great sky and clouds and stars above him. Sometimes +the mother told strange stories, but oftener they sat silent. + +When winter came it seemed to Hansei that half of all the joy and light +and life went out of the world. There were no birds nor bugs nor bees +left; the flowers were gone, and the days were short and gray. It was +cold, and he could only stay in the dim little house, playing with small +sticks and stones, or tracing the frostwork on the one little window. +Frost was like lace, his mother had told him. + +Sometimes, too, he would try to sing as the woman had sung who passed +that summer time. + +One evening in the middle of winter Hansei and his mother started out to +a bit of woods skirting the other side of the yellow road. Hansei sang +as they went; it was half what the woman had sung and half like nothing +that was ever heard. Sometimes this tune made his mother smile a little, +but oftener she did not hear it. + +As they crossed the yellow road his mother stopped and looked, as she +always did. + +"Hark!" she said, hushing the singing with her hand. Hansei stood still +and listened. Yes, yes, they were coming--"the others." It sounded again +as it had the day the men had ridden by, only more--more; and they were +coming nearer. There were voices and the beat of footsteps, and +sometimes Hansei heard a strange sound that might be singing or wind +moaning. + +Hansei said: "I am so afraid." But his mother did not hear him. He hid +his face in her gown and waited. They were coming on and on; and they +were saying something together,--strange words that Hansei had never +heard. Nearer and nearer! He felt them passing close where he and his +mother stood; he raised his head and looked. + +He saw a long dark line of men, some riding and some walking. Their +heads were bent, and they said the strange words together. Sometimes +there was a burst like song, then the words again. There was one torch. + +Slowly they made their way down the yellow road. Hansei and his mother +watched them as they went. + +He whispered, "Where are they going?" + +"Down there," said the mother softly. "It is the Christ-child's night." + +"Why do they go?" + +"To pray." + +"What will they ask?" + +"Light! light!" + +"Can all go?" + +"Yes, all." + +"Let us go, Mother; let us go! There is a voice down there that calls me +often." + +The mother looked back at the little dark house, then down the road +where the one point of light moved on. + +"Come, let us go; let us follow it," she said, taking his hand and +hurrying down the steep way in the darkness. + +Through the long, wild night they toiled on and on. Always the little +light went before, and always Hansei and his mother followed where it +led. + +Once Hansei cried out: "See, Mother, the torch is the star, and we are +the shepherds seeking the little Christ-child!" And he laughed. + +In the gray dawn they came to the misty city. "How strange! how +strange!" thought Hansei, as they went down the narrow streets. "How +many houses, and lights, and people! But the real light, the little +star, we must not lose it." + +Just before them went the dark line of men and the torch. People who met +them stepped aside and always made strange signs on their breasts. +Suddenly the light went out, and the men disappeared into what seemed a +great shadow. + +Hansei asked: "What is it?" + +His mother said: "A church." + +"Let us go in, too; the star went;" and Hansei, with all his strength, +pushed back the great door. + +"People! people!" little Hansei had not dreamed there were so many of +"the others." There in the dim light they were kneeling, praying for +"light, light," his mother had told him. + +Far beyond there were small lights, like stars shining, and a man in a +white robe, who said the strange words he had heard on the yellow road. +Then the kneeling people all said something together. Hansei thought, +"They are trying to tell him they want the light, and he does not +understand." Hansei's mother knelt where she stood, and he crept down +beside her. He heard her saying the words he did not know. He only said +softly: "Light, light for them all!" + +An old woman knelt near him; not far off a lame boy and a mother with a +sleeping child in her arms knelt also, and there beyond, a woman. Ah, he +knew what "beautiful" was now! He looked to see if she wore lace like +cobwebs and frost. She did not pray; she only knelt there. Tears were in +her eyes. "Light for her and all," whispered Hansei over and over. + +Then it was as if a dream came true. Some one that had stood near +stepped back, and there, there beyond, appeared the little Christ-child, +just as his mother had told him. There was the beautiful mother, the +wise men and angels, the youth, the maiden, and the light shining from +the child and touching them all, all, even the poor little beasts off +there! + +Hansei cried: "Look, look, Mother! the Christ-child!" + +His mother said, "Hush-hsh! It is not the real Christ-child, but a +picture." + +Hansei looked back. "Not the real Christ-child? But, Mother, the star +stopped here! Then the real Christ-child is here somewhere, I know." + +He looked about, but he saw only the old woman, the lame boy, the mother +with her child, and the beautiful woman who could not pray. He turned +back to the painted child and the light, and looked, and looked; he +stared his eyes blind; at last he could not see; all seemed to fade, to +go. The tired eyelids fell; his head drooped down on his mother's arm, +and he slept. + +But his eyes still held the light, and he dreamed. + +It seemed to him that the beautiful pictured light grew and broadened +into a great shining. "Surely," thought the little boy, "the real +Christ-child is near! but where? not here; here is only the old woman +and the lame boy and the others praying. But the great light--shining +over all, above every head, in shining rings! how beautiful!" + +And he thought he cried out, "See, you have the light, all of you! Do +not pray, but be glad!" They did not hear, and prayed on. + +"But the Christ-child--where is the real Christ-child?" he wondered. He +thought he stood up and strained his eyes over the bent heads of the +praying people, and while he looked he saw myriad circles of light begin +to glow; and lo! there, near--so near--was the real Christ-child,--only +it was the old woman. Dreams are strange! + +Her bent, trembling body seemed going, fading, and there knelt a shining +being,--the real Christ-child; yet it was the old woman. And the lame +boy, the hurt creature, as he looked, melted into the shadow of his +radiant, perfect self, and shined too. The mother with her child grew +bright, bright; and each of the kneeling, praying ones was a perfect +shining child! The light grew into glory; the fullness of joy broke into +singing; angels, heavenly hosts, singing, "The Christ is here,--here in +the world!" + +But what--? Who--? Why, his mother, to be sure, leaning above him. + +"Wake, Hansei; hear the music! See the choir boys in white, like +angels." + +Hansei opened his eyes wide. The glorious Christmas morning was beaming +full upon him through the great window, and he saw the light of the new +day touching the bent old woman, the lame boy, the mother with her +child, the beautiful woman beyond, and the pictured Christ. + +He heard clear voices, "Peace on earth!" + +But the dream--the dream! + +"I have found the real Christ-child," he whispered. + + + + + Ay, to save and redeem and restore him, ... snatch Saul the mistake, + Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now,--and bid him awake + From the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set + Clear and safe in new light and new life,--a new harmony, yet + To be run, and continued, and ended--who knows?--or endure! + + --_From Browning's "Saul."_ + + +[Illustration: _By Bartolome Esteban Murillo_ + +THE DIVINE SHEPHERD] + + +SAUL AND DAVID. + + +The great King Saul of Israel was sad, and the sorrow grew and grew +until it spread abroad through the whole nation. Even it came to the +simple folk who minded sheep and lived in the far hills. + +"The mighty king is sad," said one who had come from a journey. And the +people gathered about him and marveled that a king should sorrow. + +"The king is sad," said the one. "He has traveled into the great desert, +where nothing blooms and there are no rivers." + +The people stood still and looked off over their stretching pastures, +and heard the gush of water brooks. + +"He sits alone in a dim tent, with his head in his hands," said the one. +"His sword rests at his feet. The army goes no more to battle. The +servants weep and pray, and strain their eyes over the burning sand, +waiting." + +"Waiting?" said the men. + +"For one to come," said the other. + +"Who shall come?" they asked together. + +"The joy-bringer," said the man. + +The shepherds looked at one another, and then away; and when they had +stood awhile in silence, they moved off after their sheep. + +The boy David went swiftly. His feet pressed springing grass, he smelt +the odor of new-turned earth, and the sound of water was in his ears. He +could not think that there were really deserts. But he thought of the +sad, lonely king, and wished that he might go to him. He came to where +his sheep were feeding, and stood among them and heard their bleating; +but he did not think of them. He was looking into the wide sky, and +wondering if God would not send his angel to save the king; but there +was no sign save the peace and wonder that had always shone there. He +turned and led his flock to the fold, and when he had done so he sat +down on the hillside and played upon his harp; and the music was as +beautiful as silence, so that shy creatures did not fear, but crept +around to listen. The pale moon rose up, and the stars shone down like +loving, glistening eyes. + +Sometimes there had come to David strange longings for far-off things, +and he too had grown sad like the king. But then would he take his harp +to the hill and sing of the sweet promise of the perfect gift that was +to come from God to the world,--to shepherds and kings and all. And when +he had sung so, behold! the peace was again in his heart, and he wished +no longer to go seeking, for he knew the gift would surely come. + +He thought of the king as he sang. "He has forgot the promise; I must go +to him and sing," he said. + +So he rose up in the night, and woke his brother to give him charge over +his flock. And when he had plucked long-stemmed, dripping lilies to wind +through his harp strings, he went away by the same road all other +travelers had gone. + +Day after day he journeyed, passing through sweet fields and pastures. +He saw men sowing, and others tending their flocks; and there were +mothers with babes in their arms and children about them. "The gift will +come to you, and you, and all," he thought, as he passed. + +He went through the wilderness, and even through the dry desert; but his +heart was singing and the thought of the promise was there like living +water. + +Now the king's servants saw him afar off, and they ran out to meet him +and knelt at his feet; for when they saw the light on his shining hair, +and the harp with living lilies, they thought, "It is God's angel!" + +But he said to them, "I am only a loving boy; I am David, a shepherd, +and I have come to King Saul." He smiled into the wondering faces, and +passing among them he came to where the king was, and stood in his very +presence; and he was not afraid. They say a beautiful light shone from +his face. + +The tent was dim, and the weary king did not stir. + +The boy knelt down, and stripping off the lilies, he tuned his harp and +began to sing. The poet tells how he played for the mighty king; and +what do you think it was? Just the tune all his sheep knew; always it +brought them, one after one, to the pen door at evening. It was so +strange and sweet a tune that quail on the corn lands would each leave +its mate to fly after the player; and crickets--it made them so wild +with delight they would fight one another. Then he played what sets the +field mouse musing, and the cattle to deeper dreaming in the sunny +meadows. + +He sang of green pastures and water brooks, and the morning joy of +shepherds bounding over wide pastures. The light shines in streams, the +hungry, happy sheep break out, and the long golden day is to be lived! + +Then he sang of the peace that comes to shepherds at evening, when the +gentle sheep and sleepy, bleating lambs go home across the sweet wide +meadow, and the stars come out in the serene heavens. Then it is to the +shepherd as if nature and man and God are all one, and love is all there +is in the whole world. + +At last the boy David sang of the perfect gift that will surely come; +and he sang until the evil sorrow itself grew into peace. + +The king stirred and raised his head. It was to him as if it had rained, +and flowers had sprung up in the desert. + + + + +A GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION + + +The diacritical markings in this list agree with the latest edition of +Webster's International Dictionary, and are as follows: + + [=a]--_as in_ f[=a]te. + [)a]--_as in_ [)a]dd. + [+a]--_as in_ pref' [+a]ce. + [:a]--_as in_ f[:a]r. + [.a]--_as in_ gr[.a]ss. + [a:]--_as in_ [a:]ll. + [=e]--_as in_ [=e]ve. + [+e]--_as in_ [+e]-vent'. + [)e]--_as in_ [)e]nd. + [~e]--_as in_ h[~e]r. + [=i]--_as in_ [=i]ce. + [)i]--_as in_ p[)i]n. + [=o]--_as in_ r[=o]w. + [+o]--_as in_ [+o]-bey'. + o--_as in_ lord. + [)o]--_as in_ n[)o]t. + oe--_similar to_ u _in_ fur. + [=oo]--_as in_ s[=oo]n. + [)u]--_as in_ [)u]s. + [+u]--_as in_ [+u]-nite'. + [u.]--_as in_ f[u.]ll. + U--_similar to_ u _in_ fur. + [)y]--_as in_ pit' [)y]. + e[u]--_as in_ [u]s. + (_prolonged_). + oi--_as in_ oil. + ou--_as in_ out. + + K a guttural sound, similar to aspirated _h_. + + N represents the nasal sound in French, as in _ensemble_ + ([:a]N' s[:a]N' b'l). + + [)w] similar to _v_. + + Silent letters are italicized. Certain vowels, as _a_ and _e_, when + obscured, are also italicized. + + + +A WORD LIST + + Amphibian ([)a]m f[)i]b' [)i] _a_n) + Angelus ([)a]n' g[+e] l[)u]s) + Antonio Allegri da Corregio ([)a]n t[=o]' n[)i] [+o] + [)a]ll[=e]' gr[)i] d[:a] k[)o]r [)e]d' j[=o]) + applause ([)a]p pl[a:]z') + Asola ([:a] s[=o]' l[:a]) + [)a]s' p[)i] r[=a]' tion (sh[)u]n) + Bartolome Esteban Murillo (b[:a]r t[)o]l m[=a]' [)e]st[=a]' b[:a]n + m[=oo] r[=e]' ly[=o]) + Beatrice (b[=e]' [+a] tr[)i]s) + Brunhilde (br[=oo]n' h[)i]l' d_e_) + buoys (boiz) + castle (k[)a]s' 'l) + caverns (k[)a]v' [~e]rnz) + citrons (s[)i]t' r[)u]nz) + crouched (kroucht) + Dante Gabriel Rossetti (d[)a]n' t[)e] g[=a]' br[)i] [)e]l + r[)o]ss[)e]t' t[=e]) + Earth-dwarfs ([e]rth'-dw[a:]rfs') + fagots (f[)a]g' [)u]tz) + Faust (foust) + Friedrich Froe]_e_' b_e_l (fr[=e]' dr[+e]K) + g[a:]_u_z' [)y] + gl[=e]_a_m_e_d + gl[)i]n' t[~e]r [)i]ng + Goethe (goe' t_e_h) + Hansei (h[.a]ns' [=e]) + hedge (h[)e]j) + h[)o]l' l[)y] h[)o]_c_ks + indescribable ([)i]n' d[+e] skr[=i]b' [.a] b'l) + Innocence ([)i]n' n[+o] s_e_ns) + Israel ([)i]z' r[+a] [)e]l) + Jean Baptiste Greuze (zh[:a]N b[.a]' t[+e]st' gruz) + Jean Francois Millet (zh[:a]N fr[)o]N' sw[:a]' m[+e]' y[+a]') + Jules le Febvre (zh[=oo]l l_e_h f[+a]vr') + k[)i]n' d[~e]r g[:a]r' t[)e]n + knight (n[=i]t) + l[a:]_u_' r[)e]l + Liseuse (l[)i]' zeuz') + Mignon (m[+e]' nyoN') + Mimi (m[=e]' m[+e]) + miracles (m[)i]r' [.a] k'lz) + m[=o]_a_n' [)i]ng + musician (m[+u] z[)i]sh' _a_n) + myriad (m[)i]r' [)i] _a_d) + mysterious (m[)i]s t[=e]' r[)i] [)u]s) + naught (n[a:]t) + Niebelungen (n[=e]' b[)e] l[u.]ng' _e_n) + Odin ([=o]' d[)i]n) + P[)a]r' [.a] d[=i]s_e_ + P{:a]r' s[)i] f[.a]l + p[=e]_a_l' [)i]ng + P[)i]p' p[.a] + pr[=e]' l[=u]d_e_ + probation (pr[+o] b[=a]' sh[)u]n) + quail (kw[=a]l) + quivered (kw[)i]v' [~e]rd) + radiance (r[=a]' d[)i] _a_ns) + R[)i]ch' _a_rd W[)a]g' n[~e]r + Saul (s[a:]l) + s[~e]_a_rch' [)i]ng + s[+e] r[=e]n_e_' + s[)e]v' [~e]r_e_d + sheaves (sh[=e]vz) + Siegfried (s[=e]g' fr[)i]d) + sm[=e]_a_r_e_d + tadpoles (t[)a]d' p[=o]lz) + thatched (th[)a]tcht) + tr[)u]n' d'l[)i]ng + vision (v[)i]zh' [)u]n) + Watts (w[)o]tz) + wearily (w[=e]' r[)i] l[)y]) + weights (w[=a]ts) + w[)e]ld + Wilhelm Meister ([)w][)i]l' h[)e]lm m[=i]s' t[~e]r) + + + ++---------------------------------------------------------------------+ +| Transcriber's Note: | +| | +| The following symbols are used as indicated: | +| | +| [+a], [+e], [+o], [+u] = a, e, o, and u with 'inverted tack' above; | +| [.a] = a with 'dot' above; | +| [)a] = a with 'breve' above; | +| [=a] = a with 'macron' above; | +| [a:] = a with 'umlaut' below; | +| [~e] = e with 'tilde' above; | +| [=e] = e with 'macron' above; | +| [)e] = e with 'breve' above; | +| [)i] = i with 'breve' above; | +| [=i] = i with 'macron' above; | +| [=o] = o with 'macron' above; | +| [=oo] = oo with 'macron' above; | +| [)u] = u with 'breve' above; | +| [u.] = u with 'dot' below; | +| [)u] = u with 'breve' above; | +| [)w] = w with 'breve' above; | +| [)y] = y with 'breve' above. | ++---------------------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Child Stories from the Masters, by Maud Menefee + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD STORIES FROM THE MASTERS *** + +***** This file should be named 21764.txt or 21764.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/7/6/21764/ + +Produced by Mark C. 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