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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:10:30 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:10:30 -0700 |
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diff --git a/23869-h/23869-h.htm b/23869-h/23869-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9f98d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/23869-h/23869-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8210 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Mr. Thimblefinger and his Queer Country, by Joel Chandler Harris. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + a {text-decoration: none;} + + img {border: none;} + + em {font-style: italic;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-style: normal; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .lowercase {text-transform: lowercase;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .tdl {text-align: left; vertical-align: bottom;} /* left align cell */ + .tdrt {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} /* right top align cell */ + .tdrb {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} /* right bottom align cell */ + .tdlsc {text-align: left; vertical-align: bottom; font-variant: small-caps;} /* left align cell small caps font */ + + .sig {text-align: right; margin-right: 4em;} /* author signature aligned right */ + .address {margin-left: 10%; font-variant: small-caps;} /* author signature at end of letter, move 2nd line right */ + + .border {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer +Country, by Joel Chandler Harris + +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: Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer Country + +Author: Joel Chandler Harris + +Illustrator: Oliver Herford + +Release Date: December 15, 2007 [EBook #23869] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. THIMBLEFINGER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from scans of public domain material produced by +Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/lmt01.jpg" width="361" height="500" +alt="Front cover of the book" /> +</div> + + + +<h1 style="padding-bottom: 3em;">LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER<br /> +AND HIS QUEER COUNTRY</h1> + +<h2 style="padding-bottom: 3em;">What the Children Saw and Heard there</h2> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 2em;"><b>BY</b></p> + +<h2>JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS</h2> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 3em;">AUTHOR OF “UNCLE REMUS,” ETC.</p> + +<h2 style="padding-bottom: 3em;"><i>ILLUSTRATED BY OLIVER HERFORD</i></h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 197px;"> +<img src="images/lmt02.png" width="197" height="250" +alt="Publisher's device" /> +</div> + + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 5em;">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> +1895</p> + + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 2em;">Copyright, 1894,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS AND<br /> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.</p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 5em;"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 5em;"><i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br /> +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company</p> + + +<div class="border"> +<h3>Books by Joel Chandler Harris.</h3> + +<p>NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS. Illustrated. +12mo, $1.50; paper, 50 cents.</p> + +<p>MINGO, AND OTHER SKETCHES IN BLACK +AND WHITE. 16mo, $1.25; paper, 50 cents.</p> + +<p>BALAAM AND HIS MASTER, AND OTHER +SKETCHES. 16mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p>UNCLE REMUS AND HIS FRIENDS. Illustrated. +12mo, $1.50.</p> + +<p>LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER AND HIS +QUEER COUNTRY. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, +$2.00</p> + +<p class="center">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br /> +BOSTON AND NEW YORK.</p> +</div> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;"> +<a name="MR_RABBIT_FELL_KERTHUMP" id="MR_RABBIT_FELL_KERTHUMP"></a> +<img src="images/lmt03.jpg" width="425" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. RABBIT FELL KERTHUMP. <span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_41">Page 41.</a></span></span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<h2>A LITTLE NOTE TO A LITTLE BOOK.</h2> + + +<p>The stories that follow belong to three categories. +Some of them were gathered from the +negroes, but were not embodied in the tales of +Uncle Remus, because I was not sure they were +negro stories; some are Middle Georgia folklore +stories, and no doubt belong to England; and +some are merely inventions.</p> + +<p>They were all written in the midst of daily +work on a morning newspaper,—a fact that will +account in some measure for their crude setting.</p> + +<p class="sig">J. C. H.</p> +<p class="address">West End, Atlanta, Ga.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"><!-- blank page --></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt"> </td> + <td class="tdl"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><span class="smcap lowercase">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">I.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Grandmother of the Dolls</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">II.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Thimblefinger’s Queer Country</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">III.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Thimblefinger’s Friends</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">IV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Two Queer Stories</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">V.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Talking-Saddle</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">VI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Talking-Saddle and the Thief</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">VII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Ladder of Lions</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Brother Terrapin’s Fiddle-String</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">IX.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Looking-Glass Children</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">X.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Rabbit as a Rain-Maker</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">How Brother Bear’s Hair was combed</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">A Singing-Match</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Strawberry-Girl</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Witch of the Well</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XV.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Bewitched Huntsman</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">The Three Ivory Bobbins</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">“Keen-Point,” “Cob-Handle,” and “Butch”</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">Mrs. Meadows resumes her Story</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td> + <td class="tdlsc">A Story of the River</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"><!-- blank page --></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="List of illustrations"> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"> </td> + <td class="tdrb"><span class="smcap lowercase">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mr. Rabbit fell kerthump</span> (<a href="#Page_41">Page 41</a>)</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_RABBIT_FELL_KERTHUMP"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Rag-Tag rolling out of the Corner</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#RAGTAG_ROLLING_OUT_OF_CORNER">10</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Grandmother of the Dolls and the big Black Cat</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#GRANDMOTHER_AND_BIG_BLACK_CAT">14</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Sweetest Susan waking up</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#SWEETEST_SUSAN_WAKING_UP">18</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Following Little Mr. Thimblefinger</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#FOLLOWING_LITTLE_MR_T">24</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Rabbit and Mrs. Meadows</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_RABBIT_MRS_MEADOWS">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Billy-Goat and Mr. Wolf</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_BILLYGOAT_MR_WOLF">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">My Mother washing the Old Man’s Coat and Waistcoat</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MY_MOTHER_WASHING_ETC">56</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Drusilla waiting on Mr. Rabbit</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#DRUSILLA_WAITING_ON_MR_R">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Tip-Top and the Mayor</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#TIPTOP_AND_MAYOR">68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Mayor pardoning the Thief</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MAYOR_PARDONING_THIEF">82</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHICKAMY_AND_TICKLE">84</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Rabbit bandaging Brother Lion’s Paw</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_RABBIT_BANDAGING_LION">92</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Ladder of Lions</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#LADDER_OF_LIONS">98</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Rabbit fiddling for Brother Terrapin</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_RABBIT_FIDDLING_FOR_TERRAPIN">104</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Brother Terrapin tumbling into the Creek</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#TERRAPIN_TUMBLING_INTO_CREEK">108</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Sweetest Susan, meeting her Reflection</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#SUSAN_MEETING_REFLECTION">110</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">They all plunged into the Looking-Glass</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#PLUNGED_INTO_LOOKING_GLASS">118</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mr. Rabbit saying nothing</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MR_RABBIT_SAYING_NOTHING">124</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Brother Bear arguing the Rain Question</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#BROTHER_BEAR_ARGUING">128</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Mrs. Bear hanging out Clothes</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#MRS_BEAR_HANGING_CLOTHES">134</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Little Mr. Thimblefinger</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#LITTLE_MR_T">140</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Singing-Match</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#SINGING_MATCH">144</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Granny Grim-Eye finds a Beautiful Little Girl asleep</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL_ASLEEP">148</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Little Old Man discovers the Strawberry-Girl</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#OLD_MAN_DISCOVERS_STRAWBERRY_GIRL">150</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Golden-Haired, Beautiful Little Girl</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Little Old Man, Three Wits, and the Stag</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#OLD_MAN_THREE_WITS_AND_STAG">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Stag and the Witch</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#STAG_AND_WITCH">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">The Little Girl and the Old Man</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#LITTLE_GIRL_AND_OLD_MAN">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Valentine slaying the Spider</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#VALENTINE_SLAYING_SPIDER">210</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Valentine talking to the River</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#VALENTINE_TALKING_TO_RIVER">220</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc">Buster John shaking Hands with Mr. Rabbit</td> + <td class="tdrb"><a href="#BUSTER_JOHN_SHAKING_HANDS">228</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h1 style="padding-bottom: 3em;">LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER AND<br /> +HIS QUEER COUNTRY.</h1> + + + +<h2>I.</h2> + +<h2>THE GRANDMOTHER OF THE DOLLS.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time there lived on a plantation, +in the very middle of Middle Georgia, a little girl +and a little boy and their negro nurse. The little +girl’s name was Sweetest Susan. That was the +name her mother gave her when she was a baby, +and she was so good-tempered that everybody +continued to call her Sweetest Susan when she +grew older. She was seven years old. The little +boy’s name was Buster John. That was the +name his father had given him. Buster John +was eight. The nurse’s name was Drusilla, and +she was twelve. Drusilla was called a nurse, but +that was just a habit people had. She was more +of a child than either Sweetest Susan or Buster +John, but she was very much larger. She was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +their playmate—their companion, and a capital +one she made.</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan had black hair and dark eyes +like her father, while Buster John had golden +hair and brown eyes like his mother. As for +Drusilla, she was as black as the old black cat, +and always in a good humor, except when she +pretended to be angry. Sweetest Susan had +wonderful dark eyes that made her face very +serious except when she laughed, but she was as +full of fun as Buster John, who was always in +some sort of mischief that did nobody any harm.</p> + +<p>These children were not afraid of anything. +They scorned to run from horses, or cows, or dogs. +They were born on the big plantation, and they +spent the greater part of the day out of doors, +save when the weather was very cold or very wet. +They had no desire to stay in the house, except +when they were compelled to go to bed, and a +great many times they fretted a little because +they thought bedtime came too soon.</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan had a great many dolls, and +she was very fond of them. She had a China +Doll, a Jip-jap Doll, a Rag Doll, a Rubber Doll, +a White Doll, a Brown Doll, and a Black Doll. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Sometimes she and Drusilla would play with the +Dolls out in the yard, and sometimes Buster John +would join them when he had nothing better to +do. But every evening Sweetest Susan and Drusilla +would carry the Dolls into the bedroom and +place them side by side against the wall. Sweetest +Susan wanted them placed there, she said, so +she could see her children the last thing at night +and the first thing in the morning.</p> + +<p>But one night Sweetest Susan went to bed crying, +and this was so unusual that Drusilla forgot +to put the Dolls in their places. Sweetest Susan’s +feelings were hurt. She had not been very good, +and her mother had called her Naughty Susan instead +of Sweetest Susan. Buster John, in the +next room, wanted to know what the matter was, +but Sweetest Susan wouldn’t tell him, and neither +would she tell Drusilla. After a while Sweetest +Susan’s mother came in and kissed her. That +helped her some, but she lay awake ever so long +sobbing a little and thinking how she must do so +as not to be called Naughty Susan.</p> + +<p>Drusilla lay on a pallet near Sweetest Susan’s +bed, but, for a wonder, Drusilla lay awake too. +She said nothing, but she was not snoring, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +Sweetest Susan could see the whites of her eyes +shining. The fire that had been kindled on the +hearth so as to give a light (for the weather was +not cold) flickered and flared, and little blue +flames crept about over the sputtering pine-knot, +jumping off into the air and then jumping back. +The blue flames flickered and danced and crept +about so, and caused such a commotion among the +shadows that were running about the room and +trying to hide themselves behind the chairs and in +the corners, that the big brass andirons seemed +to be alive.</p> + +<p>While Sweetest Susan was lying there watching +the shadows and wondering when Drusilla would +go to sleep, she heard a voice call out,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! I believe I’ve got smut all over my +frock again!”</p> + +<p>It was the queerest little voice that ever was +heard. It had a tinkling sound, such as Susan +had often made when she tied her mother’s gold +thimble to a string and struck it with a knitting-needle. +Just as she was wondering where it came +from, a little old woman stepped from behind one +of the andirons and shook the ashes from her +dress.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +“I think I’d better stay at home,” said the little +old woman, “if I can’t come down the chimney +without getting smut all over my frock. I +wonder where Mr. Thimblefinger is?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m here,” exclaimed another tinkling +voice from the fireplace, “but I’m not coming in. +They are not asleep, and, even if they were, I see +the big Black Cat in that chair there.”</p> + +<p>“Much I care!” cried the little old woman +snappishly. “I’ll call you when I want you.”</p> + +<p>Then she went around the room where Sweetest +Susan’s Dolls were scattered, and looked at +each one as it lay asleep. Then she shook her +head and sighed.</p> + +<p>“They look as if they were tired, poor things!” +she said. “And no wonder! I expect they have +been pulled and hauled about and dragged around +from pillar to post since I was here last.”</p> + +<p>Then the little old woman touched the Dolls +with her cane, one by one. Each Doll called +out as it was touched,—</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Granny?”</p> + +<p>And to each one she replied:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Reser, roser, rise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rib and rub your eyes!”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +Sweetest Susan was not at all alarmed. She +felt as if she had been expecting something of the +kind. The Dolls arose and ranged themselves +in front of the fireplace—all except the Rag Doll.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Rag-Tag?” inquired the little old +woman anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Here I am, Granny!” replied the Rag Doll. +“I’m lame in one leg and I can’t walk with the +other, and my arm’s out of joint.”</p> + +<p>“Tut! tut!” said the little old woman. “How +can you be lame in your legs when there’s no +bone in them? How can your arm be out of +joint when there’s no joint? Get up!”</p> + +<p>Rag-Tag rolled out of the corner and tumbled +across the floor, heels over head.</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” said the little old woman, opening +her satchel, “what can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>“She’s pulled all my hair out!” whispered +the China Doll.</p> + +<p>“She’s mashed my nose flat!” cried the Jip-jap +Doll.</p> + +<p>“She’s put one of my eyes out!” whined the +Brown Doll.</p> + +<p>“She’s put chalk all over me!” blubbered the +Black Doll.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="RAGTAG_ROLLING_OUT_OF_CORNER" id="RAGTAG_ROLLING_OUT_OF_CORNER"></a> +<img src="images/lmt04.jpg" width="500" height="489" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">RAG-TAG ROLLING OUT OF THE CORNER</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +“She hasn’t hurt me!” exclaimed the Rubber +Doll.</p> + +<p>“She’s made a hole in my back, and the +sawdust is all running out!” whined Rag-Tag.</p> + +<p>“I’ll attend to you first, before you bleed +to death,” said the little old woman, frowning. +Then she rapped on the floor with her cane and +cried out:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Long-Legged Spinner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come earn your dinner!”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>While Sweetest Susan was wondering what +this meant, she saw a big Black Spider swing +down from the ceiling and hang, dangling close +to the little old woman’s face. Its little eyes +sparkled like coals of fire, and its hairy mouth +worked as if it were chewing something. Sweetest +Susan shivered as she looked at it, but she +didn’t scream.</p> + +<p>“A thimbleful of fresh cobwebs, Long-Legged +Spinner!” said the little old woman, in a businesslike +way.</p> + +<p>Then the big Black Spider moved his legs +faster than a cat can wink her eyes, and in a few +seconds the fresh cobwebs were spun.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +“That is very nice,” said the little old woman. +“Here’s a fat Bluebottle for you.”</p> + +<p>The big Black Spider seized the Fly and ran +nimbly to the ceiling again. The Fly buzzed and +buzzed in a pitiful way, and Sweetest Susan +thought to herself, “Oh, what should I do if +that was poor me!”</p> + +<p>Then the little old woman hunted in her +satchel until she found a piece of mutton suet, +and with this and the fresh cobwebs she quickly +stopped the hole in Rag-Tag’s back. This done, +she went around and doctored each one. She +glued more hair on the China Doll. She fixed +the nose of the Jip-jap Doll. She gave a new +blue eye to the Brown Doll.</p> + +<p>“There!” she exclaimed when she had finished, +“I think you look a little more like +yourself now. But you would look a great deal +better if you had any clothes fit to wear. Now +pay attention! What is the name of this horrible +giantess that drags you about and beats you +so?”</p> + +<p>“It’s no giantess, Granny,” replied Rag-Tag. +“It’s a little girl, and sometimes she’s very, very +good.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +“Hush!” cried the little old woman. “Speak +when you are spoken to.”</p> + +<p>“She <em>is</em> a giantess, Granny,” said the Brown +Doll. “She’s taller than that chair yonder.”</p> + +<p>“Where is she now?” the little old woman +asked fiercely.</p> + +<p>“She’s asleep in the bed, Granny,” said the +Brown Doll.</p> + +<p>“Pinch her good, Granny!” cried the Wax +Doll. “Put out her eyes!”</p> + +<p>“Scratch her, Granny! Pull out her hair!” +pleaded the Brown Doll.</p> + +<p>“Bump her head against the wall, Granny! +Mash her nose!” exclaimed the Jip-jap Doll.</p> + +<p>The Rag-Tag Doll said not a word.</p> + +<p>All this time the little old woman was searching +in her satchel for something, and Sweetest +Susan began to get frightened.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come off without my specs,” said the +little old woman, “and I can’t see a stiver with +such a light as this.”</p> + +<p>Just then the big Black Cat that had been +sleeping quietly in a chair rose and stretched himself +and gaped, showing his long white teeth. +He jumped to the floor and walked back and forth +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +purring and rubbing against the little old woman +in a friendly way.</p> + +<p>“Get out! You’ll push me over,” she cried. +“Oh, will you go away? I’ll stick you with my +needle! I certainly will! Keep your long tail +out of my face! Oh, how can I see to do anything? +Will you go away? I’ll hit you as sure +as I am standing here!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t,” said the big Black Cat, stopping and +looking straight at the little old woman. “Don’t +you know it brings bad luck to hit a black cat?”</p> + +<p>“If I hit you, you’ll feel it,” cried the little old +woman.</p> + +<p>“Stop,” exclaimed the big Black Cat. “I +know what you are here for. Do you see my +eyes? They are as green as grass. Do you see +my teeth? They are as strong as iron. Do you +see my claws? They are as sharp as needles. If +I look at you hard you’ll shiver; if I bite you +you’ll squall; if I scratch you you’ll bleed.”</p> + +<p>The Grandmother of the Dolls looked at the +big Black Cat long and hard.</p> + +<p>“Do I know you?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I know you,” replied the Black Cat.</p> + +<p>“What is your name?” she asked.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 469px;"> +<a name="GRANDMOTHER_AND_BIG_BLACK_CAT" id="GRANDMOTHER_AND_BIG_BLACK_CAT"></a> +<img src="images/lmt05.jpg" width="469" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GRANDMOTHER OF THE DOLLS AND THE BIG BLACK CAT</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +“Billy-Billy Blackfoot.”</p> + +<p>“It is time for you to go hunting,” she said. +She wanted to get him out of the room.</p> + +<p>“I have found what I was hunting for,” said +Billy-Billy Blackfoot.</p> + +<p>“There’s a rat gnawing in the pantry.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll be fatter when I catch him.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a piece of cheese in the dining-room.”</p> + +<p>“It won’t spoil until I eat it.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a pan of milk in the kitchen.”</p> + +<p>“It won’t turn sour till I drink it.”</p> + +<p>“There’s catnip in the garden.”</p> + +<p>“It will grow till I want it.”</p> + +<p>The Grandmother of the Dolls then made a +cross-mark on the carpet and waved her cane in +the air. This was done to put a spell on Billy-Billy +Blackfoot, but before the spell could work +Billy-Billy made a circle by chasing his tail +around. Then he glared at the little old woman +and slowly closed one eye. This was too much. +The Grandmother of the Dolls seized her cane +and made a furious attack on Billy-Billy Blackfoot, +but he leaped nimbly out of the way and +the cane fell with a whack on the bald head of +the Brown Doll.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +At this there was a tremendous uproar. The +Brown Doll screamed: “Murder!” Billy-Billy +Blackfoot’s tail swelled to twice its natural size; +the hair-brush fell on the floor; the dustpan +rattled; the shovel and tongs staggered out from +the chimney-corner and rolled over on the hearth; +the Dolls scrambled and scurried under the bed, +and the little old woman whisked up the chimney +like a spark from a burning log.</p> + +<p>When Sweetest Susan raised up in bed to look +around she saw Drusilla sitting on her pallet rubbing +her eyes, but Billy-Billy Blackfoot was sitting +by the fireplace washing his face as quietly +as if nothing had happened. At first it seemed +to Sweetest Susan that it had all been a dream, +but presently she heard a small voice that came +down the chimney:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Thimblefinger! Mr. Thimblefinger! It +is nine minutes after twelve.” There was a pause, +and then the small voice sounded farther away, +like an echo, “Nine minutes and two seconds +after twelve!”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<h2>MR. THIMBLEFINGER’S QUEER COUNTRY.</h2> + + +<p>The next morning Sweetest Susan was awake +early. She wanted very much to turn over and +go to sleep again, for her eyes were heavy and +her body was tired. But the moment she remembered +the wonderful events of the night before, +she sat up in bed and looked around. Drusilla +was still asleep and snoring very loudly, but +Sweetest Susan jumped out of bed and shook her +by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Drusilla! Drusilla! wake up!” cried Sweetest +Susan. Drusilla stopped short in her snoring +and turned over with a groan. She kept her +eyes closed, and in a moment she would have +been snoring again, but Sweetest Susan continued +to shake her and called her until she squalled +out:—</p> + +<p>“Who dat? What you want? Oh, Lordy!”</p> + +<p>“Wake up, Drusilla,” said Sweetest Susan, “I +want to ask you something.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +“Ain’t I ’wake? How kin I be any ’waker +when I’m ’wake? Oh, is dat you, honey? I +wuz skeer’d ’t was dat lil’ bit er ol’ ’oman. +Whar she gone? Las’ time I seed her she wuz +des walkin’ ’roun’ here like she wuz gwine ter +tromple on me. I laid low, I did.”</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan clasped her hands together and +cried: “Oh, wasn’t it a dream, Drusilla? Did +it all happen sure enough?”</p> + +<p>Drusilla shook her head wildly. “How kin +we bofe have de same kind er dream? I seed +de ’oman gwine on, en you seed ’er gwine +on. Uh-uh! Don’t talk ter me ’bout no +dreams.”</p> + +<p>The whole matter was settled when Buster John +cried out from the next room: “What fuss was +that you were making in there last night, squealing +and squeaking?”</p> + +<p>The matter was soon explained to Buster John, +and after breakfast the children went out and sat +on the big wood-pile and talked it all over. The +boy asked a hundred questions, but still his curiosity +was not satisfied.</p> + +<p>All this time the birds were singing in the +trees and the wood-sawyers sawing in the pine +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +logs. Jo-reeter, jo-reeter, jo-ree! sang the birds. +Craik, craik, craik, went the wood-sawyers.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<a name="SWEETEST_SUSAN_WAKING_UP" id="SWEETEST_SUSAN_WAKING_UP"></a> +<img src="images/lmt06.jpg" width="386" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">SWEETEST SUSAN WAKING UP</span> +</div> + +<p>“There are fifty dozen of them,” said Buster +John.</p> + +<p>“Fifty-five thousand you’d better say,” replied +Sweetest Susan. “Just listen!”</p> + +<p>“No needs ter listen,” cried Drusilla. “You’d +hear ’em ef you plugged up yo’ years.”</p> + +<p>Buster John put his knife-blade under a thick +piece of pine bark and pried it up to find one +of the busy sawyers. The bark was strong, but +presently it seemed to come up of its own accord, +and out jumped the queerest little man they had +ever seen or even heard of except in make-believe +story-books. Buster John dropped his knife, +and down it went into the wood-pile. He could +hear it go rattling from log to log nearly to the +bottom. Sweetest Susan gave a little screech. +Drusilla sat bolt upright and exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>“You all better come en go see yo’ ma. I +want ter see ’er myse’f.”</p> + +<p>But there was nothing to be frightened at. The +tiny man had brushed the dust and trash from +his clothes, and then turned to the children with +a good-humored smile. He was not above four +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +inches high. He had on a dress-coat. Drusilla +afterward described it as a claw-hammer coat, +velveteen knickerbockers, and silver buckles on +his shoes. His hat was shaped like a thimble, +and he had a tiny feather stuck in the side of it.</p> + +<p>“I’m much obliged to you for getting me out +of that scrape,” he said with a bow to all the +children. “It was a pretty tight place. I +stayed out last night just one second and a half +too late, and when I went to go home I found +the door shut. So I just crawled under the +bark there for a nap. The log must have turned +in some way, for when I woke up and tried to +crawl out I found I couldn’t manage it. I +wouldn’t have minded that so much, but just +then I saw one of those terrible flat-headed creatures +making his way toward me. Why, his +head was a sawmill! He was gnawing the wood +out of his way and clearing a road to me. I +tried to draw my sword, but I couldn’t get it +from under me. Then I felt the bark rising. I +pushed as hard as I could, and here I am.”</p> + +<p>“Ax ’im his name,” said Drusilla in an awe-stricken +tone.</p> + +<p>“Ah, I forgot,” responded the little man. “I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +know you, but you don’t know me. My name is +Mr. Thimblefinger, and I shall be happy to serve +you. Whenever you want me just tap three +times on the head of your bed.”</p> + +<p>“Thank goodness! I don’t sleep in no bed,” +exclaimed Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“That makes no difference,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. +“If you sleep on a pallet just tap on the +floor.”</p> + +<p>“Please, Mister, don’t talk dat a-way,” pleaded +Drusilla, “kase I’ll be constant a-projeckin’ wid +dat tappin’, an’ de fus’ time you come I’ll holler +fire.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t notice her,” said Buster John, “she +talks to hear herself talk.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, tapping +his forehead significantly and nodding his head.</p> + +<p>“You kin nod,” said Drusilla defiantly, “but +my head got mo’ in it dan you kin comb out.”</p> + +<p>“I believe you!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger, +“I believe you!” He spoke so earnestly +that Sweetest Susan and Buster John laughed, +and Drusilla laughed with them.</p> + +<p>“You dropped your knife,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. +“I’m sorry of it. I can’t bring it up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +to you, but I’ll see if I can’t crawl under and get +it out.”</p> + +<p>With that he leaped nimbly from log to log and +disappeared under the wood-pile. The children +went down to see what he would do. They were +so astonished at his droll appearance that they +forgot their curiosity.</p> + +<p>“Is that a fairy, brother?” asked Sweetest +Susan in a low voice.</p> + +<p>“No!” exclaimed Buster John with a lofty +air, but not loudly. “Don’t you see he’s not a +bit like the fairies we read about in books? Why, +he was afraid of a wood-sawyer.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” Sweetest Susan rejoined.</p> + +<p>“He’s a witch, dat what he is,” said Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Shucks!” whispered Buster John. He heard +the voice of Mr. Thimblefinger under the wood-pile.</p> + +<p>“I’ve found it, I’ve found it!” he cried. And +presently he made his appearance, dragging the +knife after him. He tugged at it until he got it +out, and then he sat down on a chip, wiped the +perspiration from his eyes, and fanned himself +with a thin flake of pine bark no bigger than a +bee’s wing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +“Pick me up and let’s go on top of the wood-pile,” +said Mr. Thimblefinger after a while. “It’s +suffocating down here. Ouch! don’t tickle me, +if you do I shall have a fit.” Buster John had +lifted him by placing a thumb and forefinger +under his arms. “And don’t squeeze me, +neither,” the little man went on. “I was cramped +under that bark until I’m as sore as a boil all +over. Goodness! I wish I was at home!”</p> + +<p>“Where do you live?” asked Sweetest Susan +when they were once more seated on the wood-pile.</p> + +<p>“Not far from here, not very far,” replied +Mr. Thimblefinger, shaking his head sagely, “but +it is a different country—oh, entirely different.”</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan edged away from the little man +at this, and Drusilla stretched her eyes.</p> + +<p>“What is it like?” asked Buster John boldly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger reflected a while, and then +shook his head. “I can show it to you,” he +said, “but I can’t describe it.”</p> + +<p>“Pick ’im up an’ show ’im to your ma!” exclaimed +Drusilla suddenly.</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger, leaping +to his feet. “That would spoil everything. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +No grown person living in this country has ever +seen me. No, no! don’t try that. It would +spoil your luck. I wouldn’t be here now if the +Dolls’ Grandmother hadn’t begged me to come +with her last night. But I’ll come to see you,”—he +pointed at Drusilla. “I’ll come often.”</p> + +<p>“I des said dat fer ter see what you’d say,” +protested Drusilla. “You wan’ gwine ter take +’im, wuz you, honey?” This question was addressed +to Buster John, who scorned to answer it.</p> + +<p>“Grown people wouldn’t understand me,” +Mr. Thimblefinger explained. “They know a +great deal too much to suit me.”</p> + +<p>“How do you get to your country?” inquired +Buster John, who was keen for an adventure.</p> + +<p>“The nearest way is by the spring,” replied +Mr. Thimblefinger. “That is the only way you +could go.”</p> + +<p>“Can I go too?” asked Sweetest Susan. “And +Drusilla?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, +shrugging his shoulders. “One can go or all can +go.”</p> + +<p>“Do you go down the spring branch?” asked +Buster John.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="FOLLOWING_LITTLE_MR_T" id="FOLLOWING_LITTLE_MR_T"></a> +<img src="images/lmt07.jpg" width="500" height="496" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">FOLLOWING LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +“No, no,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “Below +the spring and below the branch.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean under the spring?” Sweetest +Susan inquired, with some hesitation.</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” cried Mr. Thimblefinger. “Right +down through the spring and under it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, we’d drown,” said Sweetest Susan. +“The spring is deep.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ll ha’ ter ’skuze me,” exclaimed +Drusilla. “Dat water’s too wet fer me.”</p> + +<p>Buster John waited for an explanation, but +none was forthcoming.</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t go through the spring, you +know,” he said presently.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” asked Mr. Thimblefinger +slyly. “Did you ever try it?”</p> + +<p>He asked each of the children this, and the +reply was that none of them had ever tried it.</p> + +<p>“I put my foot in it once,” said Buster John, +“and the water was just like other spring water. +I know we can’t go through it.”</p> + +<p>“Come now!” Mr. Thimblefinger suggested, +“don’t say you know. Sometimes people live to +be very old and don’t know the very things they +ought to know.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +“But I know that,” replied Buster John confidently.</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, +pulling out a tiny watch, “did you ever feel of +the water in the spring at precisely nine minutes +and nine seconds after twelve o’clock?”</p> + +<p>“N-o-o-o,” replied Buster John, taken by surprise, +“I don’t think I ever did.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger +gayly. “You had no reason. Well, at nine +minutes and nine seconds after twelve o’clock the +water in the spring is not wet. It is as dry as +the air we breathe. It is now two minutes after +twelve o’clock. We’ll go to the spring, wait +until the time comes, and then you will see for +yourselves.”</p> + +<p>As they went toward the spring—Mr. Thimblefinger +running on before with wonderful agility—Drusilla +touched Sweetest Susan on the +arm. “Honey,” said she, “don’t let dat creetur +pull you in de spring. Goodness knows, ef he +puts his han’ on me I’m gwine ter squall.”</p> + +<p>“Will you hush?” exclaimed Buster John +impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Watch out, now,” said Drusilla defiantly. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +“Ef you gits drownded in dar I’ll sho’ tell yo’ +ma.”</p> + +<p>Fortunately, there was no one near the spring, +so Mr. Thimblefinger advanced boldly, followed +closely by the children, though Drusilla seemed +to hang back somewhat doubtfully. When they +arrived there Mr. Thimblefinger took out his tiny +timepiece and held it in his hand. The children +watched him with breathless interest, especially +Buster John, who was thrilled with the idea of +having an adventure entirely different from any +that he had read of in the story-books.</p> + +<p>As the little man stood there holding his watch +and looking at it intently, the dinner-bell rang, +first in the hallway and then in the back porch. +The children remembered it afterward.</p> + +<p>“You all better go git yo’ dinner ’fo’ it git +col’, stidder projeckin’ ’roun’ here wid you dunner +what,” remarked Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Now!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger, “put +your hand in the spring.”</p> + +<p>Buster John did as he was bid, and, to his +amazement, he could feel no water. He could +see it, but he couldn’t feel it. He turned pale +with excitement and withdrew his hand. Then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +he put his other hand in, but the result was the +same. He plunged his arm in up to the elbow, +but his sleeve remained perfectly dry.</p> + +<p>“Try it, sis,” he cried.</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan did so, and boldly declared +there was no water in the spring. She wanted +Drusilla to try to wet her hand, but Drusilla sullenly +declined.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger settled the matter by walking +into the spring.</p> + +<p>“Now, then, if you are going, come along,” +he cried. “You have just seventeen and a half +seconds.” He waved his hand from the bottom +of the spring and stood waiting. A spring lizard +ran near him, and he drew his sword and chased +it into a hole. A crawfish showed its head, and +he drove it away. Then he waved his hand +again. “Come on, the coast is clear.”</p> + +<p>Buster John put his hand in the water again, +and this seemed to satisfy him. He stepped +boldly into the spring, and in a moment he stood +by Mr. Thimblefinger, laughing, but still excited +by the novelty of his experience. He called to +his sister:—</p> + +<p>“Come on, sis. It’s splendid down here.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +“Is it wet?” she asked plaintively. “Is it +cold?”</p> + +<p>“No!” replied Buster John impatiently. +“Don’t be a baby.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, Drusilla! You’ve got to come. +Mamma said you must go wherever we went,” +cried Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“No, ma’am!” exclaimed Drusilla, with emphasis. +“She ain’t tol’ me ter foller you in de +fier an’ needer in de water!”</p> + +<p>But Sweetest Susan didn’t wait to hear. She +jumped into the spring with a splash and then +stood by her brother very red in the face.</p> + +<p>“Five more seconds!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger +in a businesslike way.</p> + +<p>Drusilla looked in the spring and hesitated. +She could see the water plain enough, but then +she could also see Sweetest Susan and Buster +John, and they seemed to be very comfortable.</p> + +<p>“I’m comin’,” she yelled, “but ef you all +make me git drownded in dry water I’ll ha’nt you +ef it’s de las’ thing I do!”</p> + +<p>Then she shut her eyes tight, put her fingers +in her ears, and leaped into the spring. She +floundered around with her eyes still shut, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +gasped and caught her breath just like a drowning +person, until she heard the others laughing +at her, and then she opened her eyes with astonishment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a loud, splashing sound +heard above and around them and under their +feet.</p> + +<p>“Watch out!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger. +“Run this way! The water is getting wet +again!”</p> + +<p>The way seemed to widen before them as they +ran, and in a moment they found themselves +below the “gum,” or “curb,” of the spring and +beyond it. But as they went forward the bottom +of the spring seemed to grow and expand, +and the sun shining through gave a soft light +that was very pleasant to the eye. The grass +was green and the leaves of the trees and the +flowers were pale pink and yellow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger seemed to be very happy. +He ran along before the children as nimbly as a +killdee, talking and laughing all the time. Presently +Drusilla, who brought up the rear, suddenly +stopped in her tracks and looked around. +Then she uttered an exclamation of fright. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +Sweetest Susan and Buster John paused to see +what was the matter.</p> + +<p>“Wharbouts did we come in at?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Then, for the first time, the children saw that +the bottom of the spring had seemed to expand, +until it spread over their heads and around on all +sides as the sky does in our country.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bother about that,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. +“No matter how big it looks, it’s nothing +but the bottom of the spring after all.”</p> + +<p>“But how are we to get out, please?” asked +Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“The same way you came in,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.</p> + +<p>“I tol’ you! I tol’ you!” exclaimed Drusilla, +swinging her right arm up and down vigorously. +“Ef you kin fly you kin git out, an’ you look +much like flyin’. Dat what you git by not +mindin’ me an’ yo’ ma!”</p> + +<p>“Tut! tut!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. +“I’ll ‘sicc’ the Katydids on you if you don’t +stop scaring the little girl. Come! we are not +far from my house. We’ll go there and see +what the neighbors have sent in for dinner.”</p> + +<p>Buster John followed him as readily as before, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +but Sweetest Susan and Drusilla were not so +eager. They had no device, however, and Drusilla +made the best of it.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t skeered ez I wuz. He talk mo’ and +mo’ like folks.”</p> + +<p>So they went on toward Mr. Thimblefinger’s +house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<h2>MR. THIMBLEFINGER’S FRIENDS.</h2> + + +<p>“I hope you are not tired,” said Mr. Thimblefinger +to Sweetest Susan when they had been +on their way for some little time. “Because if +you are you can rest yourself by taking longer +steps.”</p> + +<p>Buster John was ready to laugh at this, but he +soon discovered that Mr. Thimblefinger was right. +He found that he could hop and jump ever so far +in this queer country, and the first use he made +of the discovery was to jump over Drusilla’s head. +This he did with hardly any effort. After that +the journey of the children, which had grown +somewhat tiresome (though they wouldn’t say so), +became a frolic. They skimmed along over the +gray fields with no trouble at all, but Drusilla +found it hard to retain her balance when she +jumped high. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a +reason for everything, was puzzled at this. He +paused a while and stood thinking and rubbing his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +chin. Then he said that either Drusilla’s head +was too light or her heels too heavy—he couldn’t +for the life of him tell which.</p> + +<p>There was one thing that bothered the children. +If Mr. Thimblefinger’s house was just big +enough to fit him (as Buster John expressed it), +how could they go inside? Sweetest Susan was +so troubled that she asked Drusilla about it. But +Drusilla shook her head vigorously.</p> + +<p>“Don’t come axin’ me,” she cried. “I done +tol’ you all right pine-blank not ter come. Ef de +house lil’ like dat creetur is, what you gwine do +when night come? En den spozen ’pon top er +dat dat a big rain come up? Oh, I tol’ you ’fo’ +you started! Who in de name er sense ever heah +talk er folks gwine down in a spring? You +mought er know’d sump’in gwine ter happen. Oh, +I tol’ you!”</p> + +<p>There was no denying this, and Sweetest Susan +and her brother were beginning to feel anxious, +when an exclamation from Mr. Thimblefinger attracted +their attention.</p> + +<p>“We are nearly there,” he shouted. “Yonder +is the house. My! won’t the family be surprised +when they see you!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +Sure enough there was the house, and it was +not a small one, either. Drusilla said it looked +more like a barn than a house, but Buster John +said it didn’t make any difference what it looked +like so long as they could rest there and get something +to eat, for they had had no dinner.</p> + +<p>“I hope dey got sho’ ’nuff vittles—pot-licker +an’ dumplin’s, an’ sump’in you kin fill up wid,” +said Drusilla heartily.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger, who had been running +a little way ahead, suddenly paused and waited +for the children to come up.</p> + +<p>“Come to think of it,” he remarked, “you +may have heard of some of my family. I call +them my family, but they are no kin to me. We +just live together in the same house for company’s +sake.”</p> + +<p>“They are not fairies?” suggested Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. “Oh, no! +Just common every-day people like myself. We +put on no airs. Did you ever hear of Mrs. +Meadows? And Mr. Rabbit? And Mrs. Rabbit?”</p> + +<p>“Dem what wuz in de tale?” asked Drusilla.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +“Yes,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “the very +same persons.”</p> + +<p>“Sho’ ’nuff!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Why, we +been hear talk er dem sence ’fo’ we wuz knee-high.”</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan and Buster John said they had +often heard of Mr. Rabbit and Mrs. Meadows. +This seemed to please Mr. Thimblefinger very +much. He smiled and nodded approval.</p> + +<p>“Did they ever have you in a story?” asked +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“No, no!” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “I was +so little they forgot me.” He laughed at his own +joke, but it was very plain that he didn’t relish +the idea of not having his name in a book.</p> + +<p>Presently the children came to the house, but +they hesitated at the gate and stood there in fear +and trembling. What they saw was enough to +frighten them. An old woman was sitting in a +chair knitting. She was not different from many +old women the children had seen, but near her +sat a Rabbit as big as a man. He was a tremendous +creature, grizzly and gray, and watery-eyed +from age. He sat in a rocking-chair smoking a +pipe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="MR_RABBIT_MRS_MEADOWS" id="MR_RABBIT_MRS_MEADOWS"></a> +<img src="images/lmt08.jpg" width="500" height="482" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. RABBIT AND MRS. MEADOWS</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +“Le’ ’s go back,” whispered Drusilla. “Dat +ar creetur bigger dan a hoss. Ef he git a glimp’ +us we er gone—gone!”</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan shivered and looked at Buster +John, and Buster John looked at Mr. Thimblefinger. +But Mr. Thimblefinger ran forward, crying +out:—</p> + +<p>“Howdy, folks, howdy! I’ve brought some +friends home to dinner.” He beckoned to the +children. “Come on and see Mrs. Meadows and +Mr. Rabbit.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows immediately dropped her knitting +in her lap, and threw her hands up to her +head, as if to arrange her hair.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” said Mr. Thimblefinger to the +children.</p> + +<p>“Yes, come on,” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit in a +voice that sounded as if he had a bad cold.</p> + +<p>“I’m in no fix to be seen,” said Mrs. Meadows, +“but I’m glad to see you, anyhow. Come right +in. Take off your things and make yourself at +home. How did you get here? I reckon that +little trick there has been telling tales out of +school.” She pointed at Mr. Thimblefinger and +laughed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +“He brought us,” said Sweetest Susan. “I’m +sorry we came.”</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t say that,” remarked Mrs. +Meadows kindly. “What are you afraid of?”</p> + +<p>“Of him,” replied Sweetest Susan, nodding +her head toward Mr. Rabbit.</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. +“Why, he’s as harmless as a kitten.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes!” said Mr. Rabbit complacently. +“No harm in me—no harm in old people. Just +give us a little room in the corner—a little place +where we can sit and nod—and there’s no +harm in us. I’m just as glad you’ve come as +I can be. I see you’ve brought the Tar Baby. +She’s grown some since I saw her last.” Mr. +Rabbit looked at Drusilla with considerable curiosity. +“I hope she’s not as sticky as she used +to be.”</p> + +<p>“Hey!” cried Buster John, laughing. “Mr. +Rabbit thinks Drusilla is the Tar Baby!”</p> + +<p>Drusilla tossed her head scornfully. “Huh! +I ain’t no Tar Baby. I may be a nigger, an’ +I speck I is, but I ain’t no Tar Baby. My +mammy done tol’ me ’bout de Tar Baby in de +tale, an’ she got it fum her gran’daddy. Ef I’m +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +de Tar Baby, I’m older dan my mammy’s gran’daddy.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit took off his spectacles and wiped +them on his coat-tail. “My eyes are getting very +bad,” he said, by way of apology. “But you +certainly look very much like the Tar Baby. If +you were both together in the dark, nobody +could tell you apart. Well, well! I’m getting +old.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t no older dan you look,” said Drusilla +spitefully under her breath.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” whispered Sweetest Susan. “He’ll +eat us up.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows laughed. “Don’t worry, child. +Mr. Rabbit loves his pipe and a joke, but he’ll +never hurt you. Never in the world.”</p> + +<p>“But this isn’t in the world,” suggested +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s next door, as you may say,” Mrs. +Meadows replied.</p> + +<p>Just then Mr. Rabbit slowly raised himself +from his chair and examined the seat closely. “I +missed Mr. Thimblefinger,” he said, “and I was +afraid I had sat on him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger, coming +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +out from under the steps; “I was just resting +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Thimblefinger will take care of himself, +I’ll be bound,” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. “He’s +little; but is a mountain strong because it is +big?”</p> + +<p>“Why, that puts me in mind of the story—But +never mind! I’m always thinking about old +times.” Mr. Rabbit sighed as he said this.</p> + +<p>“Oh, please tell us the story,” pleaded Sweetest +Susan, anxious to make friends with Mr. Rabbit.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. “Mrs. Meadows can tell +it better than I can.”</p> + +<p>“Dinner!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger. “What +about dinner?”</p> + +<p>“Dinner’ll be ready directly,” replied Mrs. +Meadows.</p> + +<p>“But the story?” Sweetest Susan said.</p> + + +<h3>THE STRONGEST—WHO? OR WHICH?</h3> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mrs. Meadows, “it was like +this: One time in the country where we came +from—the country where you live now—there +chanced to be a big frost, and the mill-pond froze +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +over. Mr. Rabbit ran along that way and found +that the pond had this bridge across it.”</p> + +<p>“Was it this Mr. Rabbit here?” asked Buster +John.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows folded her hands in her lap and +looked at them. “Well,” she said, “I never talk +about folks behind their backs. You must do +your own guessing. Anyway, Mr. Rabbit found +the ice bridge over the pond, and as he was in +something of a hurry he skipped across it. I +mean he skipped a part of the way. The Ice +was so slippery that when he got about halfway, +his feet slipped from under him and he fell +kerthump! He got up and rubbed himself as +well as he could, and then he thought that the +Ice must be very strong to hit him so hard a lick. +He said to the Ice, ‘You are very strong.’</p> + +<p>“‘I am so,’ replied the Ice.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, if you are so strong, how can the Sun +melt you?’</p> + +<p>“The Ice said nothing, and so Mr. Rabbit +asked the Sun, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘So they tell me,’ replied the Sun.</p> + +<p>“‘Then how can the Clouds hide you?’</p> + +<p>“The Sun was somewhat ashamed and had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +nothing to say. So Mr. Rabbit looked at the +Clouds.</p> + +<p>“‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘We have heard so,’ replied the Clouds.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Wind blow you?’</p> + +<p>“The Clouds sailed away, and Mr. Rabbit +asked the Wind, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘I believe you,’ said the Wind.</p> + +<p>“‘Then how can the Mountain stand against +you?’</p> + +<p>“The Wind blew itself away, and then Mr. +Rabbit asked the Mountain, ‘Are you very +strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘So it seems,’ replied the Mountain.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Mouse make a nest in you?’</p> + +<p>“The Mountain was mum. So Mr. Rabbit +asked the Mouse, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘I believe so,’ replied the Mouse.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Cat catch you?’</p> + +<p>“The Mouse hid in the grass. Mr. Rabbit +asked the Cat, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, indeed,’ replied the Cat.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Dog chase you?’</p> + +<p>“The Cat began to wash her face. Then Mr. +Rabbit said to the Dog, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +“‘I certainly am,’ replied the Dog.</p> + +<p>“‘Then why does the Stick scare you?’</p> + +<p>“The Dog began to scratch the fleas off his +neck, and Mr. Rabbit said to the Stick, ‘Are you +very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘Everybody says so.’</p> + +<p>“‘Then how can the Fire burn you?’</p> + +<p>“The Stick was dumb, and Mr. Rabbit asked +the Fire, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘Anybody will tell you so,’ the Fire answered.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Water quench you?’</p> + +<p>“The Fire hid behind the smoke. Then Mr. +Rabbit asked the Water, ‘Are you very strong?’</p> + +<p>“‘Strong is no name for it,’ said the Water.</p> + +<p>“‘How can the Ice cover you?’</p> + +<p>“The Water went running down the river, and +after it had gone the Ice said to Mr. Rabbit, +‘You see you had to come back to me at last.’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Rabbit, ‘and now I am +going away. You are too much for me.’ Then +Mr. Rabbit loped off, rubbing his bruises.”</p> + +<p>“Was it really you, Mr. Rabbit?” asked Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit rubbed his mustache with the end +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +of his pipe-stem. “Well, I’ll tell you the truth. +I was mighty foolish in my young days. But +now all I want to do is to eat breakfast, and then +wait until dinner is ready, and then sit and wait +until supper is put on the table.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows winked at the children and then +turned to Mr. Rabbit.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said she, “I’ve told the story you +ought to have told, for you know more about it +than anybody else. It’s as little as you can do +to sing the old song that you sung when you used +to go frolicking.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s about myself!” exclaimed Mr. +Rabbit. “At my time of life it would never +do.”</p> + +<p>“Please make him sing it,” said Sweetest Susan, +who was much given to getting her own way by +the pretty little art of coaxing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’ll sing it,” replied Mrs. Meadows +confidently. “He can’t refuse.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit shook his head, and then seemed to +fall into a brown study, but suddenly, seeing that +they were all waiting for the song, he cleared up +his throat, and after several false starts sang this +song:—</p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<h3>OH, THIS IS MR. RABBIT!</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rise up, ladies, and let him pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He courted Miss Meadows, when her ma was away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He crossed his legs, and said his say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He crossed his legs, and he winked his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then he told Miss Meadows good-by.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">So it’s good-by, ducky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And it’s good-by, dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I’ll never come to see you<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Until next year!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rise up, ladies, and let him pass.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he cried from the gate, so bold and free:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I know you are glad to get rid of me.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then Miss Meadows shook her head—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“If you stay too long you’ll find me dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And it’s good-by, ducky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And it’s good-by, dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">You’ll find me dead<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When you come next year!”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rise up, ladies, and let him pass.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mr. Owl called out from the top of the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Oh, who? Oh, who?” and “He-he-he!”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mr. Fox slipped off in the woods and cried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mr. Coon’s broken heart caused a pain in his side.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For it’s good-by, ducky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And it’s good-by, dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">If you ever come to see me,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Come before next year!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rise up, ladies, and let him pass.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mr. Rabbit looked around, and saw all the trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he laughed and he laughed till he bent over double.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shook his head, and said his say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I’ll come a-calling when to-morrow is to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For when you have a ducky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Don’t stay—don’t stay—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Go off and come again<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When to-morrow is to-day.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rise up, ladies, and let him pass.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2>IV.</h2> + +<h2>TWO QUEER STORIES.</h2> + + +<p>There is no doubt the children were very +much surprised to see Mr. Rabbit. They were +astonished to find that he was so large and +solemn-looking. When the negroes on the plantation +told them about Mr. Rabbit—or Brother +Rabbit, as he was sometimes called—they +had imagined that he was no larger than the rabbits +they saw in the sedge-field or in the barley-patch, +but this Mr. Rabbit was larger than a +dozen of them put together.</p> + +<p>In one way or another Sweetest Susan and +Buster John and Drusilla showed their amazement +very plainly—especially Drusilla, who took +no pains to conceal hers. Every time Mr. Rabbit +moved she would nudge Sweetest Susan or +Buster John and exclaim: “Look at dat!” or, +“We better be gwine!” or, “Spozen Brer Fox +er Brer Wolf come up an’ dey er dat big!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows noticed this; indeed, she could +not help noticing it. And so she said:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +“I reckon maybe you expected to find Mr. +Rabbit no bigger than the rest of his family that +live in your country.”</p> + +<p>Before the children could make any answer, +Mr. Rabbit began to chuckle, and he chuckled +so heartily that Sweetest Susan was afraid he +would choke.</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder you laugh,” said Mrs. Meadows, +elevating her voice a little, as if Mr. Rabbit +were a little deaf.</p> + +<p>“It may not be polite to laugh in company,” +replied Mr. Rabbit, “but I am obliged to do it.” +His voice was wheezy, and he nodded his head +vigorously. “Yes, I am obliged to do it. Why, +I could put one of those poor creatures in my +coat-pocket. They are not Rabbits. They are +Runts. Yes, Runts. That’s what they are. +And to think, too, that their great-grandparents +might have come here when I did. But, no! +They wouldn’t hear to it. No new country for +them, they said. And so they stayed where they +were, and the breed has dwindled down to—to +nothing. I’ll be bound they have forgotten how +to talk.” He turned to the children with a look +of inquiry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +“Why, of course, rabbits can’t talk,” said +Buster John.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit shook his head sadly and put his +hand to his eyes. “Well, well, well!” he exclaimed +after a while. “Can’t talk! But I +might have known it. The family’s gone to +seed. I’m glad I’m not there to see it all. +A neighbor here and there does no harm, +but when people began to crowd in I concluded +to move, and I’m glad I did. I’m old and getting +feeble, but, thank gracious, I’m not a +Runt.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see but you’re as nimble as ever you +were,” remarked Mrs. Meadows soothingly.</p> + +<p>“I know—I know!” Mr. Rabbit insisted; +“I may be as nimble, but I’m not as keen for a +frolic as I used to be. The chimney-corner suits +me better than a barbecue.” Mr. Rabbit closed +his big eyes and sighed. “Well, well—everybody +to his time, everybody to his taste!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows nodded her head approvingly. +“Yes; between first one thing and then another, +there’s lots of time and a heap of tastes.”</p> + +<p>“They tell me,” remarked Mr. Rabbit suddenly, +“that things have got to that pass in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +country we came from that even Mr. Billy-Goat, +who used to eat meat, has dwindled away in +mind and body till he hangs around the stable +doors and eats straw for a living. That’s what +Mr. Thimblefinger says, and he ought to know. +I suppose Billy is still bob-tailed? I remember +the very day he had his tail broken off.”</p> + +<p>“Tell us about it,” remarked Buster John.</p> + + +<h3>WHY MR. BILLY-GOAT’S TAIL IS SHORT.</h3> + +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t amount to much,” said he. +“It’s hardly worth talking about. I think it +was one Saturday. In those days, you know, we +used to have a half-holiday every Saturday. We +worked hard all the week, and we tried to crowd +as much fun into a half-holiday as possible. +Well, one Saturday afternoon Mr. Billy-Goat and +Mr. Dog were walking arm in arm along the +road, talking and laughing in a sociable way, +when all of a sudden a big rain came up. Mr. +Billy-Goat said he was mighty sorry he left his +parasol at home, because the rain was apt to +make his horns rust. Mr. Dog shook himself +and said he didn’t mind water, because when he +got wet the fleas quit biting.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +“But Mr. Billy-Goat hurried on and Mr. Dog +kept up with him until they came to Mr. Wolf’s +house, and they ran into the front porch for +shelter. The door was shut tight, but Mr. Billy-Goat +had on his high-heel shoes that day, and he +made so much noise as he tramped about that +Mr. Wolf opened his window and looked out. +When he saw who it was, he cried out:—</p> + +<p>“‘Hallo! this is not a nice day to pay visits, +but since you are here, you may as well come in +out of the wet.’</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Dog shook his head and flirted up +dirt by scratching on the ground with his feet. +He had smelled blood. Mr. Billy-Goat saw how +Mr. Dog acted, and he was afraid to go in. So +he shook his horns.</p> + +<p>“‘You’d just as well come in and sit by the +fire,’ said Mr. Wolf, unlatching the door.</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Dog and Mr. Billy-Goat thanked +him kindly, and said they didn’t want to carry +mud into the house. They said they would just +stand in the porch till the shower passed over. +Then Mr. Wolf took down his fiddle, tuned it up, +and began to play. In his day and time few +could beat him playing the fiddle. And this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +time he played his level best, for he knew that if +he could start Mr. Billy-Goat to dancing he’d +have him for dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how,” said Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well,” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, “if Mr. Billy-Goat +began to dance he would be likely to dance +until he got tired, and then it would be an easy +matter for Mr. Wolf to outrun him.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Mr. Rabbit continued, “Mr. Wolf +kept on playing the fiddle, but Mr. Billy-Goat +didn’t dance. Not only that, he kept so near the +edge of the porch that the rain drifted in on his +horns and ran down his long beard. But he +kept his eye on Mr. Wolf. After playing the +fiddle till he was tired, Mr. Wolf asked:—</p> + +<p>“‘How do you get your meat, my young +friends?’</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dog said he depended on his teeth, and +Mr. Billy-Goat, thinking to be on the safe side, +said he also depended upon his teeth.</p> + +<p>“‘As for me,’ cried Mr. Wolf, ‘I depend on +my feet!’ and with that he dropped his fiddle +and jumped at Mr. Billy-Goat. But he knocked +the broom down and the handle tripped him. It +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +was all very sudden, but by the time Mr. Wolf +had recovered himself Mr. Billy-Goat and Mr. +Dog had gone a considerable distance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 391px;"> +<a name="MR_BILLYGOAT_MR_WOLF" id="MR_BILLYGOAT_MR_WOLF"></a> +<img src="images/lmt09.jpg" width="391" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. BILLY-GOAT AND MR. WOLF</span> +</div> + +<p>“They ran and ran until they came to a big +creek. Mr. Billy-Goat asked Mr. Dog how he +was going to get across.</p> + +<p>“‘Swim,’ said Mr. Dog.</p> + +<p>“‘Then I’ll have to bid you good-by,’ replied +Mr. Billy-Goat, ‘for I can’t swim a stroke.’</p> + +<p>“By this time they had arrived at the bank of +the creek, and they could hear Mr. Wolf coming +through the woods. They had no time to lose. +Mr. Dog looked around on the ground, gathered +some jan-weed, yan-weed, and tan-weed, rubbed +them together, and squeezed a drop of the juice +on Mr. Billy-Goat’s horns. He had no sooner +done this than Mr. Billy-Goat was changed into +a white rock.</p> + +<p>“Then Mr. Dog leaped into the creek and +swam across. Mr. Wolf ran to the bank, but +there he stopped. The water was so wide it +made tears come in his eyes; so deep that it made +his legs ache; and so cold that it made his body +shiver.</p> + +<p>“When Mr. Dog arrived safely on the other +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +side he cried out, ‘Aha! you are afraid! You’ve +drowned poor Mr. Billy-Goat, but you are afraid +of me. I dare you to fling a rock at me!’</p> + +<p>“This made Mr. Wolf so mad that he seized +the white rock and threw it at Mr. Dog with all +his might. It fell near Mr. Dog, and instantly +became Mr. Billy-Goat again. But in falling a +piece was broken off, and it happened to be Mr. +Billy-Goat’s tail. Ever since then he has had a +very short tail.”</p> + +<p>“Were you there, Mr. Rabbit?” asked Sweetest +Susan bluntly.</p> + +<p>“I was fishing at the time,” replied Mr. Rabbit. +“I heard the noise they made, and I turned +around and saw it just as I’ve told you.”</p> + +<p>Drusilla touched Buster John on the arm. +“We ain’t dreamin’, is we, honey?”</p> + +<p>Buster John looked at her scornfully. “What +put that in your head?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Suppose the rock had hit Mr. Dog?” suggested +Sweetest Susan.</p> + + +<h3>THE PUMPKIN-EATER.</h3> + +<p>“Now, that’s so!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. +“And it reminds me of a little accident +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +that happened in my mother’s family. But it’s +hardly worth telling.”</p> + +<p>“Well, tell it, anyhow,” said Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “the proof of +the pudding is in chewing the bag.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “as far back +as I can remember, and before that, too, my +mother was a widow, and she had a great many +children to take care of. The reason she had so +many children was because she was poor. I have +noticed all my life that when people are very +poor they happen to have more children than +they know what to do with. This was the way +with my mother. She had a houseful of children, +and she found it a hard matter to get +along.</p> + +<p>“One day she went down to the creek to wash +the clothes, such as she and the children had, and +when she got there she found an old man sitting +on the bank. He said, ‘Howdy,’ and she said, +‘Good-morning,’ and then he asked her if she +would be so good as to wash his coat and his +waistcoat. She said she would be glad to do +so, and the old man said he would be very much +obliged. So my mother washed the coat and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +waistcoat. Then he asked her if she would comb +his hair for him, and she did so.</p> + +<p>“The old man thanked her kindly, and took +from his pocket a string of red beads and made +her a present of them. Then he told her to go +out behind the house when she got home, and +there she’d find a pumpkin-tree growing. He +said that she must bury the string of beads at +the foot of the tree.</p> + +<p>“‘That’s a pity,’ exclaimed my mother; ‘they +are so beautiful.’</p> + +<p>“But the old man declared that she must do +as he said, and after that she was to go to the +pumpkin-tree every day and ask for as many +pumpkins as she wanted.</p> + +<p>“My mother went home and found the pumpkin-tree +where never a tree had been growing +before, and at its roots she buried the string of +beads. Next morning, bright and early, she +went to the pumpkin-tree and called for one +pumpkin. Down it dropped from the tree. For +a long time my mother and her children were +happy and growing fat. Every day a big pumpkin +would be cooked, and as my mother had to +leave us so as to attend to her work, enough +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +pumpkin would be left in the pot to last us all +day.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="MY_MOTHER_WASHING_ETC" id="MY_MOTHER_WASHING_ETC"></a> +<img src="images/lmt10.jpg" width="500" height="474" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MY MOTHER WASHING THE OLD MAN’S COAT AND WAISTCOAT</span> +</div> + +<p>“I remember that time very well,” Mr. +Thimblefinger continued, with a sigh, “for I was +getting fat and growing to be almost as large as +the rest of the children. But one day, as my +mother was going out to work she found a hamper +basket on the gate-post, and in that basket +was a baby. So she carried the baby in the +house, gave it something to eat, and then put it +on the floor to play with the rest. But as soon +as she got out of the yard the baby crawled to +the pot where the cooked pumpkin was, and ate +and ate until there was no pumpkin left. Of +course, the rest of the children had to go hungry. +And when my mother came home she had to go +hungry, too.</p> + +<p>“She was very much surprised. She found all +the pumpkin gone and the children crying for +something to eat, and the stray baby was crying +louder than any. She said we were the greediest +children she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>“The next day she cooked two pumpkins, but +the same thing happened. The baby went to +the pot and ate both. The children told her how +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +it happened, but she wouldn’t believe them. +She said she couldn’t be made to believe that one +puny little baby could eat two whole pumpkins—and +it <em>is</em> very queer, when you come to think +about it.</p> + +<p>“The next day she cooked three pumpkins, but +the same thing happened. Then four, then five, +then six. But it was always the same. No matter +how many pumpkins were cooked, the stray +baby would eat them all, and the rest of the children +would have to go hungry. You see how +small I am,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, suddenly +pausing in the thread of his story. “Well, the +reason of it is that I was starved out by that +pumpkin-eating baby. My brothers and sisters +and myself were just as large and as healthy as +any other children until that baby was found on +the gate-post, and from that day we began to +dwindle and shrink away.</p> + +<p>“Well, we starved and starved until at last my +mother could very plainly see that something was +the matter. So she set a trap for the baby and +baited it with pumpkins. She hadn’t got out of +hearing before the baby put his head in the pot +and got caught in the trap. It stayed there all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +day, and when mother came home at night she +found it there. She was very much surprised, +but she saw she must get rid of the baby. She +said that any creature that could manage to eat +like that was able to take care of itself, and so +she carried it off down the road and left it +there.</p> + +<p>“Now this Pumpkin-Eater was a witch baby, +and as soon as it thought my mother was out of +sight and hearing it changed itself into a tall, +heavy man.”</p> + +<p>“’T wuz feedin’ de big man all de time,” exclaimed +Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “My +mother was watching it, and she followed to see +where it would go. It went down to the bank of +the river. There it found the old man who had +given my mother the string of beads, and asked +him for something to eat.</p> + +<p>“‘Comb my hair for me,’ said the old man.</p> + +<p>“But it refused, and then the old man told it +to go to the pumpkin-tree and ask for twenty +pumpkins. The greedy thing was glad to do this. +It went to the tree and called for twenty pumpkins, +and down they fell on its head.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +“What then?” asked Buster John, as Mr. +Thimblefinger paused. “Was it hurt?”</p> + +<p>“Smashed!” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. +“Knocked flatter than a pancake! Broke into +jiblets!”</p> + +<p>“It was a great waste of pumpkins,” remarked +Mrs. Meadows.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<h2>V.</h2> + +<h2>THE TALKING-SADDLE.</h2> + + +<p>Just then Mrs. Meadows smoothed out her +apron and rose from her chair.</p> + +<p>“I smell dinner,” she said, “and it smells like +it is on the table. Let’s go in and get rid of it.”</p> + +<p>She led the way, and the children followed. +The dinner was nothing extra,—just a plain, +every-day, country dinner, with plenty of pot-liquor +and dumplings; but the children were hungry, +and they made short work of all that was +placed before them. Drusilla waited on the table, +as she did at home, but she didn’t go close to Mr. +Rabbit. She held out the dishes at arm’s length +when she offered him anything, and once she came +very near dropping a plate when he suddenly +flapped his big ear on his nose to drive off a fly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows was very kind to the children, +but when once the edge was taken off their appetite +they began to get uneasy again. There +were a thousand questions they might have asked, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +but they had been told never to ask questions in +company. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a keen +eye for such things, noticed that they were beginning +to get glum and dissatisfied, and so he said +with a laugh:—</p> + +<p>“I’ve often heard in my travels of children +who talked too much, but these don’t talk at all.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they’ll soon get over that,” Mrs. +Meadows remarked. “Everything is so strange +here, they don’t know what to make of it. When +I was a little bit of a thing my ma used to take +me to quiltings, and I know it took me the longest +kind of a time to get used to the strangers and +all.”</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a quilting,” said Sweetest Susan, +with a sigh; “I wish it was.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t!” exclaimed Buster John plumply.</p> + +<p>“Once when I was listening through a keyhole,” +said Mr. Thimblefinger, placing his tiny +knife and fork crosswise on his plate, “I heard +a story about a Talking-Saddle.”</p> + +<p>“Tell it! tell it!” cried Buster John and +Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have no pie to-day?” said Mr. +Rabbit.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 381px;"> +<a name="DRUSILLA_WAITING_ON_MR_R" id="DRUSILLA_WAITING_ON_MR_R"></a> +<img src="images/lmt11.jpg" width="381" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">DRUSILLA WAITING ON MR. RABBIT</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Meadows, “we’ll have +the pie and the story, too.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger smacked his lips and winked +his eye in such comical fashion that the children +laughed heartily, but they didn’t forget the story.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I can remember the best of +it,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “The wind was +blowing and the keyhole was trying to learn how +to whistle, and I may have missed some of the +story. But it was such a queer one, and I was +listening so closely, that I came very near falling +off the door-knob when some one started to come +out. I think we’d better eat our pie first. I +might get one of those huckleberries in my throat +while talking, and there’s no doctor close at hand +to keep me from choking to death.”</p> + +<p>So they ate their huckleberry-pie, and then Mr. +Thimblefinger told the story.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time a farmer had five sons. He +was not rich and he was not poor. He had some +land, and he had a little money. He divided +his land equally among his four oldest sons, giving +each just as much as he could till. To each, +he also gave a piece of money. Then he called +his youngest son, and said:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +“‘You have sharp eyes and a keen wit. You +want no land. All you need is a saddle. That I +will give you.’</p> + +<p>“‘A saddle! What will I do with a saddle?’ +asked the youngest son, whose name was Tip-Top.</p> + +<p>“‘Make your fortune with it.’</p> + +<p>“‘If I had a horse—’</p> + +<p>“‘A head is better than a horse,’ the father +replied.</p> + +<p>“Not long after, the old man died. The land +was divided up among the four older sons, and +Tip-Top was left with the saddle. He slung it on +his back and set out to make his fortune. It was +not long before he came to a large town. He +rested for a while and then he went into the town. +He remembered that his father had said a head +was better than a horse, so, instead of carrying +the saddle on his back, he put it on his head. At +first the people thought he was carrying the saddle +because he had sold his horse for a good price, +or because the animal had died. But he went +through street after street still carrying the saddle +on his head, never pausing to look around or to +speak to anybody, and at last the people began +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +to wonder. Some said he was a simpleton, some +said he was a saddle-maker advertising his wares, +and some said he was a tramp who ought to be +arrested and put in the workhouse.</p> + +<p>“This talk finally reached the ears of the +Mayor of the town, and he sent for Tip-Top to +appear before him.”</p> + +<p>“What is a Mayor?” asked Sweetest Susan +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“He de head patter-roller,” said Drusilla, before +anybody else could reply.</p> + +<p>“That’s about right,” Mr. Thimblefinger declared. +“Well, the Mayor sent for Tip-Top. +But instead of going to the place where the +Mayor held his court, Tip-Top inquired where his +house was and went there. Now, when Tip-Top +knocked at the Mayor’s door the servant, seeing +the man with a saddle on his head, began to scold +him.</p> + +<p>“‘Do you think the Mayor keeps his harness +in the parlor? Go in the side gate and carry the +saddle in the cellar where it belongs. Hang it on +the first peg you see.’</p> + +<p>“Tip-Top tried to say something, but the servant +shut the door with a bang. Then Tip-Top +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +did as he was bid. He went through the side +gate, and found the cellar without any trouble, +but instead of hanging the saddle on a peg, he +placed it on the floor and sat on it.</p> + +<p>“After waiting patiently a while, wondering +when the Mayor would call him, Tip-Top heard +voices on the other side of the wall. He listened +closely, and soon found that the housemaid who +had driven him away from the Mayor’s door was +talking to her brother, who had just returned +from a long journey.</p> + +<p>“‘The Mayor has gold,’ said the brother. +‘You must tell me where he keeps it. I have a +companion in my travels, and to-night we shall +come and take the treasure.’</p> + +<p>“For a long time the housemaid refused to +tell where the Mayor kept his gold, but the brother +threatened and coaxed, and finally she told +him where the treasure lay.</p> + +<p>“‘It is in a closet by the chimney in the first +room to the right at the head of the stairs. The +gold is in an iron box and it is very heavy.’</p> + +<p>“‘My companion has long hair and a strong +arm,’ said the brother. ‘He is cross-eyed and +knock-kneed. It wouldn’t do for you to meet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +him in the hallway. Go to bed early and lock +your door, and if you hear any outcry during the +night cover your head with a pillow and go to +sleep again.’</p> + +<p>“Then the housemaid and her brother went +away.</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ said Tip-Top, ‘this is no place for +me.’</p> + +<p>“He waited a while, and then went out of the +cellar into the yard with his saddle on his head. +The cook, seeing him there, told him to carry the +saddle to the stable where the horses were kept. +Tip-Top went to the stable, placed his saddle in +an empty stall, and sat on it.</p> + +<p>“After a while he heard two persons come in +from the street. They went into a stall near by +and began to talk. One was the coachman and +the other was his nephew, who had just returned +from a long journey.</p> + +<p>“‘The Mayor has fine horses,’ said the +nephew. ‘I must have two of them to-night, +otherwise I am ruined forever.’</p> + +<p>“The coachman refused to listen at first, but +after a while he consented. He told his nephew +that the stable-boy slept in the manger.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +“‘I have a companion in my travels,’ said his +nephew, ‘and to-night we shall come and take the +horses away. My companion has short hair and +a heavy hand. Close your eyes and cover your +head with straw if you hear any outcry.’</p> + +<p>“After a while the coachman and his nephew +went out into the street again, and then Tip-Top +came forth from the stable with the saddle on his +head. The Mayor had just come in, and was +standing at his window. He saw the man in the +yard with the saddle on his head, and sent a servant +to call him.</p> + +<p>“‘What is your name?’ asked the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘Tip-Top, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘I didn’t ask after your health; I asked for +your name,’ said the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘It is Tip-Top, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘Your name or your health?’</p> + +<p>“‘Both, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘What are you doing here?’</p> + +<p>“‘His honor, the Mayor, sent for me, your +honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘What were you doing just now?’</p> + +<p>“‘Waiting to be sent for, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘Where is your horse?’ asked the Mayor.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 351px;"> +<a name="TIPTOP_AND_MAYOR" id="TIPTOP_AND_MAYOR"></a> +<img src="images/lmt12.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">TIP-TOP AND THE MAYOR</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +“‘I have no horse, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘Why do you carry your saddle?’</p> + +<p>“‘Because no one will carry it for me, your +honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘Why do you not sell it and be rid of it, +ninny?’</p> + +<p>“‘Few are rich enough to buy it, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘How much money is it worth?’</p> + +<p>“‘Two thousand pieces of gold, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘Are you crazy?’ cried the Mayor. ‘Why is +it so valuable?’</p> + +<p>“‘It is a Talking-Saddle, your honor.’</p> + +<p>“‘What does it say?’</p> + +<p>“‘Everything, your honor. It warns, it predicts, +and it gives advice.’</p> + +<p>“‘Let it talk for me,’ said the Mayor, full of +curiosity.</p> + +<p>“‘Your honor would fail to understand its +language,’ replied Tip-Top.</p> + +<p>“‘Let it talk and do you tell me what it says.’</p> + +<p>“Tip-Top placed his saddle on the carpet and +pressed his foot against it until the leather made +a creaking noise.</p> + +<p>“‘I am waiting,’ said the Mayor. ‘What does +the saddle say?’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +“‘It says, your honor, that you must call the +housemaid.’</p> + +<p>“The Mayor, to humor the joke, did so. The +housemaid came, grumbling. She looked at the +saddle, at Tip-Top, and then at the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘Now what does the saddle say?’ asked the +Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘It says, your honor, that this woman has a +brother, who has just returned from a journey in +strange lands. The saddle says, your honor, that +this woman’s brother has a companion who has +long hair and a strong arm.’</p> + +<p>“‘Is that all?’ asked the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘No, your honor, it is not half.’</p> + +<p>“‘It is very strange,’ said the housemaid.</p> + +<p>“‘The saddle says, your honor, that if you +will sit in the closet by the chimney, in the first +room to the right, where there is an iron box that +is very heavy, you will receive a visit to-night +from this woman’s brother and his companion.’</p> + +<p>“The Mayor was very much astonished, but +before he could open his lips the woman fell on +her knees and confessed all. The Mayor called +an officer and sent her away. Then he turned to +Tip-Top, and asked:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +“‘Is that all?’</p> + +<p>“‘By no means, your honor. The saddle says +send for the coachman.’</p> + +<p>“The Mayor did so, and the coachman came, +bowing and smiling.</p> + +<p>“‘How much is the saddle worth?’ the Mayor +asked him.</p> + +<p>“‘Master, it is worthless,’ replied the coachman, +with a sneer.</p> + +<p>“‘Let us see,’ said the Mayor. Then, turning +to Tip-Top: ‘What does the saddle say?’</p> + +<p>“‘It says, your honor, that this coachman +here has a nephew, who has just returned from +a long journey. It says that the nephew has +a companion who has short hair and a heavy +hand.’</p> + +<p>“‘What more?’</p> + +<p>“‘The saddle says, your honor, that if you will +sleep in the manger where your two finest horses +feed, you will receive a visit from the coachman’s +nephew and his traveling companion.’</p> + +<p>“The coachman implored his master’s mercy, +and told all. Of course, the Mayor was very +much astonished. He turned his unfaithful servants +over to an officer, and that night had a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +watch set around his house and stable, and caught +the thieves and their companions.”</p> + +<p>“But the saddle didn’t talk,” said Sweetest +Susan. “So the man didn’t tell what was true.” +She made this remark with so much dignity that +Mrs. Meadows laughed.</p> + +<p>But Buster John was quite impatient.</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a girl’s story,” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “It is for +girls as well as boys. Sometimes people tell stories +just to pass the time away, and if the stories have +little fibs in ’em, that don’t do anybody any harm, +they just keep them in there. If they didn’t, the +story wouldn’t be true.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the end of the story of the Talking-Saddle?” +asked Buster John.</p> + +<p>“No! Oh, no!” Mr. Thimblefinger answered. +“I was just going to tell you the rest.”</p> + +<p>But before he could go on with it, the noise of +laughter was heard at the door, and then there +came running in a queer-looking girl and a very +queer-looking boy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<h2>VI.</h2> + +<h2>THE TALKING-SADDLE AND THE THIEF.</h2> + + +<p>The queer-looking girl was running from the +very queer-looking boy, and both were laughing +loudly. When they saw the children sitting at +the table they both stopped suddenly. The +queer-looking girl turned and made a wry face +at the very queer-looking boy. At this both +burst out laughing, and suddenly stopped again.</p> + +<p>“Be ashamed of yourselves!” exclaimed old +Mr. Rabbit, rapping on the floor with his cane. +“Be ashamed! Where are your manners? Go +and speak to our friends and make your best bow, +too,—don’t forget that!” Mr. Rabbit appeared +to be very indignant.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows was in a better humor. “This,” +she said, as the queer-looking girl came forward, +“is Chickamy Crany Crow, and this,” as the very +queer-looking boy came timidly up, “is Tickle-My-Toes.”</p> + +<p>They bowed, and then went off a little way, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +looking very solemn and comical. They didn’t +dare glance at each other for fear they would +begin laughing again. The reason they looked +so queer was because, although they acted like +children, they were old in appearance,—as old as +a person past middle age.</p> + +<p>“They are country-raised, poor things! You’ll +have to excuse them. They don’t know any better.” +Mr. Thimblefinger sighed as he said this, +and looked thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“What about the Talking-Saddle?” Buster +John inquired. “You said the story wasn’t finished.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure! To be sure!” Mr. Thimblefinger +cried. “My mind is like a wagon without +a tongue. It goes every way but the right way. +Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the Mayor was very thankful to Tip-Top +for saving his treasure and his horses, but +he wasn’t satisfied about the saddle. He was +worried. Now, you know when a child is worried +it cries, but when a grown man is worried he +sits down and looks away off, and puts his elbow +in his hand and his finger to his nose—so.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ve seen papa do that,” laughed Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +“Yes, that’s the way the Mayor did,” Mr. +Thimblefinger continued. “There was a great +thief in that country who had never been caught. +He didn’t care for judges and juries and courthouses. +He always sent the Mayor word when +he was coming to the city and when he was going +away.</p> + +<p>“Now, the Mayor had received a letter from +this man just the day before Tip-Top came. +The thief said he was coming after a fine race-horse +that was owned by the Mayor’s brother. +So the Mayor sat and thought, and finally he +asked Tip-Top if his Talking-Saddle could catch +a famous thief.</p> + +<p>“‘It has just caught four common rogues, +your honor,’ replied Tip-Top, ‘and I think it can +catch one uncommon thief.’</p> + +<p>“Then the Mayor told Tip-Top that the most +famous thief in all that country intended to steal +his brother’s race-horse. Tip-Top said he must +see the horse, and together they went to the stable +where it was kept. The horse was already +guarded. Two servants sat in the stall, two sat +outside, and two remained near the door. The +Mayor’s brother was also there.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +“‘What is this?’ the brother asked.</p> + +<p>“‘This fellow wants to sell his saddle,’ replied +the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘Then arrest him,’ cried the brother, ‘for he +is the thief.’</p> + +<p>“‘Nonsense,’ replied the Mayor. ‘He is a +very honest man and I will vouch for him.’</p> + +<p>“Then the Mayor called his brother aside and +told him why the man with the saddle had come +to see the horse.</p> + +<p>“Tip-Top talked with the men who had been +set to guard the horse, and he soon found that +one of them was an accomplice of the thief. This +man made a swift sign to Tip-Top, and placed his +finger on his mouth. Tip-Top replied by closing +his eyes with his fingers, as if to show that he +saw nothing. When he had an opportunity he +said to this man:—</p> + +<p>“‘Tell your master I will be willing to sell the +saddle to-night. I will sleep with it under my +head on the next corner. It is worth one thousand +pieces of gold.’</p> + +<p>“Then he returned to the Mayor, and they +went away. Tip-Top laughed as they walked +along. ‘This thief,’ he remarked, ‘is a fool. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +It is so easy to steal a horse that he will not buy +a saddle. He will try to steal mine. Then we +shall catch him. He will get the horse—’</p> + +<p>“‘What!’ cried the Mayor; ‘get the horse?’</p> + +<p>“‘Certainly; nothing is easier,’ replied Tip-Top. +‘He will get the horse, and then he will +want a saddle. He will be passing the wall here. +He will see me sleeping with my head on my +friend and then he will attempt to steal it, but +the surcingle will be buckled around my body, +and I will awake and cry blue murder. Then +you and your brother can come forward from the +vacant house yonder and seize him.’</p> + +<p>“‘Where did you learn all this?’ asked the +Mayor. He began to suspect that his brother +was right when he said that Tip-Top was the +thief.</p> + +<p>“‘My saddle told me,’ Tip-Top answered.</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ said the Mayor, ‘your plan is as good +as any, but how will the thief get the horse that +is so well guarded?’</p> + +<p>“‘Ah!’ Tip-Top exclaimed, ‘if I were to tell +you, we should never catch the thief.’</p> + +<p>“So it was all arranged. Tip-Top was to sleep +on his Talking-Saddle, near the wall and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +Mayor and his brother were to watch from the +windows of the vacant house opposite.</p> + +<p>“When night came, the watchers who had been +set to guard the horse were very anxious. They +were ready to arrest any one who might chance +to enter. Whenever they heard footsteps approaching +they seized their clubs and stood on the +defensive. Sometimes a passer-by would pause, +look in, and ask what the trouble was. Then the +watchers would reply that they were waiting for +the great thief who was coming to steal the fine +horse. Thus the hours passed, but no thief came. +Then the watchers began to get tired.</p> + +<p>“‘We are crazy,’ said one. ‘How can a thief +steal this horse, even if he were to come in here? +We are four to one. Two of us should sleep +a while, and thus we can take turns in watching.’ +This was agreed to, and two of the guards +stretched themselves on the straw and prepared +to sleep. But just then they heard some one singing +far down the street. It was a jolly song, and +the sound of it came louder and louder. As the +singer was going by, the light in the stable caught +his eye, and he paused and looked in, but still +kept up his singing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +“‘Friends,’ he said when his song was done, +‘what is the trouble?’</p> + +<p>“‘We are watching a horse.’</p> + +<p>“‘Is he sick? Perhaps I can aid you. I have +doctored many a horse in my day.’</p> + +<p>“‘He is not sick,’ replied the watchers. ‘He +is well and taking his ease. We are watching to +prevent a thief from stealing him.’</p> + +<p>“Then they told him the threat the thief had +made.</p> + +<p>“‘Come, that is too good,’ cried the newcomer. +‘This thief will be worth looking at when four +such stout lads as you get through with him. +When does he show himself?’</p> + +<p>“‘That is what we are to find out,’ replied the +watchers.</p> + +<p>“‘Very well,’ the newcomer said; ‘I’ll stay, +by your permission, and see you double him up.’</p> + +<p>“The watchers gave their consent gladly, for +the newcomer had a lively manner and a rattling +tongue. He sang songs and told stories for an +hour or more, and then pulled a bottle from under +his coat.</p> + +<p>“‘A little wine,’ he said, ‘will clear the fog +from our throats.’ He passed the bottle around, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +and all drank except the guard who was watching +in the stall.</p> + +<p>“Now the man who had come singing up the +street was the thief himself, and the guard in the +stall was his companion. The wine was drugged, +and in a very few minutes three of the watchers +were fast asleep. Then the thief and his companion +took the horse from the stall.</p> + +<p>“‘I shall have to remain here and pretend to +be asleep,’ said the companion. ‘You will find a +saddle around the corner.’ He then told the thief +about the man with the saddle.</p> + +<p>“‘You are a fool, my friend,’ said the thief. +‘It is a trick—a trap.’</p> + +<p>“But when he had carried off the horse and +hid it at the house of an acquaintance, the +thought of the man with the saddle worried him +so that he went back to satisfy himself. Tip-Top +and his saddle were there, and Tip-Top had slept +so soundly that his head had rolled from his pillow. +The thief thought it would be a good +stroke of business to take the saddle along, but +when he tried to lift it, Tip-Top awoke and seized +him, and cried ‘Murder!’ at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>“The Mayor and his brother rushed from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +their place of concealment, and soon the thief +was bound.</p> + +<p>“‘Where is the horse?’ cried the Mayor.</p> + +<p>“‘What horse?’ exclaimed the thief. ‘Do +you think I carry horses in my pocket?’</p> + +<p>“‘What were you doing here, then?’</p> + +<p>“‘This fellow’s head had slipped from its pillow, +and when I tried to put it back he seized +me and yelled that I was murdering him! I +saw no horse under the saddle.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wait here a little,’ said Tip-Top. ‘Hold this +thief till I return.’</p> + +<p>“He went to the stable, woke the thief’s accomplice, +who by this time was really asleep, +and told him his companion had been captured. +‘If I can find the horse and hide it our friend +will be safe, for nothing can be proved on him.’</p> + +<p>“The man was so frightened that he told +Tip-Top where he had arranged to meet the +thief the next day. Then Tip-Top returned +to the Mayor and his brother, who still held the +thief, and took them to the house where the +horse had been stabled.</p> + +<p>“When the horse had been found and restored +to its owner the Mayor said to Tip-Top +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +that he would not only reward him handsomely +but grant any request he might make.</p> + +<p>“‘Then, your honor,’ replied Tip-Top, ‘give +this man his liberty.’</p> + +<p>“‘Why?’ asked the Mayor, much astonished.</p> + +<p>“‘Because, your honor, he is my brother.’</p> + +<p>“The thief was as much astonished as the +Mayor at this turn in his affairs, but he had no +difficulty in recognizing Tip-Top as his younger +brother.</p> + +<p>“‘He certainly is a man of talent,’ said the +Mayor, ‘and it is a pity that he should be executed.’</p> + +<p>“Then the thief fell on his knees and begged +the Mayor to pardon him, promising him to live +and die an honest man. And he kept his promise. +He engaged in business, and, aided by +Tip-Top’s advice and influence, made a large fortune.”</p> + +<p>“What became of the Talking-Saddle?” asked +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, “Tip-Top +hung the saddle in his front porch, as you have +seen farmers do. He thought a great deal of +it.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<a name="MAYOR_PARDONING_THIEF" id="MAYOR_PARDONING_THIEF"></a> +<img src="images/lmt13.jpg" width="387" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE MAYOR PARDONING THE THIEF</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +“I’ve read something about the great thief,” +remarked Buster John. “But the story didn’t +end that way. The thief escaped every time.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you know how some people are,” +exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. “They want everything +to happen just so; even a thief must be a +big man if he’s in a story; but I don’t believe +anybody ever stole anything yet without getting +into trouble about it.”</p> + +<p>“Who is that crying?” Mr. Rabbit suddenly +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I hear no crying,” said Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>“I certainly thought I heard crying,” persisted +Mr. Rabbit.</p> + +<p>“It is Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes +singing. Listen!”</p> + +<p>Sure enough the queer-looking boy and the +queer-looking girl were singing a song. One +sang one line and the other the next line, and +this made the song somewhat comical. The +words were something like these:—</p> + + +<h3>CHICKAMY CRANY CROW.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Oh sing it slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">This song of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the girl who went to wash her toe!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class="i3">Her name was Chick—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">(Oh run here quick—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The word’s so thick)—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chickamy—Chickamy Crany Crow!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Chickamy what? and Chickamy which?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">She went to the well and fell in the ditch;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">What o’clock, old Witch?<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The clock struck one<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And bowed to the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the sun was fast asleep you know;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the moon was quick,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With her oldtime trick—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To hide from Chick—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chickamy—Chickamy Crany Crow!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Chickamy what? and Chickamy which?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">She went to the well and fell in the ditch;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">What o’clock, old Witch?<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Oh, sad to tell!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">She went to the well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time was as close to eve as to dawn—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To Chickamy Chick,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">So supple and slick,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The clock said “Tick!”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when she came back her chicken was gone!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Oh, whatamy, whichamy, chickamy, oh!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Moonery, oonery, tickamy Toe!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Wellery, tellery, gittery go!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Witchery, itchery, knitchery know.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 496px;"> +<a name="CHICKAMY_AND_TICKLE" id="CHICKAMY_AND_TICKLE"></a> +<img src="images/lmt14.jpg" width="496" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">CHICKAMY CRANY CROW AND TICKLE-MY-TOES</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +“What kinder gwines on is dat?” exclaimed +Drusilla, whose mind had never been quite easy +since she walked through the dry water in the +spring without getting drowned. “We all better +be makin’ our way to’rds home. Time we git +dar—ef we ever is ter git dar—it’ll be dark +good. Den what yo’ ma gwine to say? She +gwine ter talk wid de flat er her han’—dat what +she gwine ter talk wid. Come on!”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you be quiet?” cried Buster John. +“It’s nothing but a song.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you kin stay, an’ I’ll stay wid you,” said +Drusilla; “but when Mistiss git you in de wash-room, +don’t you come sayin’ dat I wouldn’t fetch +you home.”</p> + +<p>“I want to see everything,” said Buster John.</p> + +<p>“I done seed much ez I want ter see,” replied +Drusilla, “an’ now I want ter live ter tell it.”</p> + +<p>Before Buster John could say anything more, +everything suddenly grew a little darker, and in +the middle of the sky—or what ought to have +been the sky, but which was the enlarged bottom +of the spring—there was a huge shadow. The +children looked at it in silence.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h2>VII.</h2> + +<h2>THE LADDER OF LIONS.</h2> + + +<p>The shadow that seemed to fall over everything +caused Buster John and Sweetest Susan and Drusilla +to run to the door. It was not a very dark +shadow, but it was dark enough to attract their +attention and excite their alarm. They were not +yet used to their surroundings, for, although a +great many things they saw and heard were familiar +to them, they could not forget that they +had come through the water in the spring. They +could not forget that Mr. Thimblefinger was the +smallest grown person they had ever seen,—even +if he were a grown person,—nor could they forget +that they had never seen a rabbit so wonderfully +large as Mr. Rabbit. Drusilla expressed the +feelings of all when she remarked that she felt +“skittish.” They were ready to take alarm at anything +that might happen. Therefore they ran to +the door to see what the shadow meant. Finally +they looked up at the sky, or what seemed to be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +the sky, and there they saw, covering a large part +of it, the vague outline of a huge jug. The +shadow wobbled about and wavered, and ripples +of light and shadow played about it and ran +down to the horizon on all sides.</p> + +<p>An astronomer, seeing these fantastic wobblings +and waverings of light and shadow in our firmament, +would straightway send a letter or a cable +dispatch to the newspapers, declaring that an unheard-of +convulsion was shaking the depths of +celestial space. And, indeed, it was all very puzzling, +even to the children, but Drusilla, who had +less imagination than any of the rest, accounted +for it all by one bold stroke of common sense.</p> + +<p>“Shuh! ’T ain’t nothin’ ’t all!” she exclaimed. +“Dey done got froo wid dinner at home, an’ ol’ +Aunt ’Cindy done put de buttermilk-jug back in +de spring.”</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan caught her breath with a gasp, +and laughed hysterically. She had been very +much alarmed.</p> + +<p>“I expect that’s what it is,” said Buster John, +but there was some doubt in his tone. He turned +to Mr. Thimblefinger, who had followed them. +“What time is it, please?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +Mr. Thimblefinger drew his watch from his +pocket with as much dignity as he could assume, +and held his head gravely on one side. “It is +now—let me see—<em>ahem!</em>—it is now precisely +thirteen minutes and eleven seconds after one +o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the jug in the spring?” asked Sweetest +Susan, pointing to the huge black shadow that +was now wobbling and wavering more slowly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger shaded his eyes with his +hand and examined the shadow critically. “Yes, +that is the jug—the light hurts my eyes—yes, +certainly, that is the jug.”</p> + +<p>Presently a volume of white vapor shot out from +the shadow. It was larger than the largest comet, +and almost as brilliant.</p> + +<p>“What is that?” asked Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger felt almost as thoughtful as +a sure-enough man of science.</p> + +<p>“That,” said he, “is an emanation—an exhalation, +you might say—that we frequently witness +in our atmosphere.”</p> + +<p>“A which?” asked Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, clearing +his throat, “it’s—er—an emanation.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +“Huh!” cried Drusilla, “’t ain’t no kind er +nation. It’s des de milk leakin’ out’n dat jug. +I done tol’ Aunt ’Cindy ’bout dat leakin’ jug.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit and Mrs. Meadows had come out +of the house in time to hear this, and they laughed +heartily. In fact, they all laughed except Mr. +Thimblefinger and Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“It happens every day,” said Mrs. Meadows. +“We never notice it. I suppose if it happened +up there where you children live, everybody would +make a great to-do? I’m glad I don’t live there +where there’s so much fussing and guessing going +on. I know how it is. Something happens that +doesn’t happen every day, and then somebody’ll +guess one way and somebody another way, and +the first thing you know there’s a great rumpus +over nothing. I’m truly glad I came away from +there in time to get out of the worst of it. You +children had better take a notion and stay here +with us.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” cried Sweetest Susan. “Mamma +and papa would want to see us.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” said Mrs. Meadows. “Well, I +just came out here to tell you not to get too near +the Green Moss Swamp beyond the hill yonder. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +There’s an old Spring Lizard over there that +might want to shake hands with you with his tail. +Besides it’s not healthy around there; it is too +damp.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we are not going anywhere until we start +home,” Sweetest Susan remarked.</p> + +<p>“How large is the Spring Lizard?” inquired +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“He’s a heap too big for you to manage,” replied +Mrs. Meadows. “I don’t know that he’d +hurt you, but he’s slept in the mud over there +until he’s so fat he can’t wallow scarcely. He +might roll over on you and hurt you some.”</p> + +<p>“Are there any lions over there?” inquired +Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“No, honey, not a living one,” said Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>By this time Mr. Rabbit had come out on the +piazza, bringing his walking-cane and his pipe. +He presently seated himself on the steps, and +leaned his head comfortably against one of the +posts.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well,” he exclaimed. “It has +been years and years since I’ve heard the name of +Brother Lion. Is he still living and doing well?” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +Mr. Rabbit turned an inquiring eye on Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t know anything about lions,” +said Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Why, I do!” cried Sweetest Susan. “I saw +one once in a cage.”</p> + +<p>“In a cage? Brother Lion in a cage?” Mr. +Rabbit raised his hands and rolled his eyes in +astonishment. “What is the world coming to? +Well, I’ve said many and many a time that +Brother Lion was not right up here.” Mr. Rabbit +tapped his forehead significantly. “In a +cage! Now, that pesters me. Why, he used to +go roaring and romping about the country, scaring +them that didn’t know him mighty nigh to +death. And so Brother Lion is in a cage? But +I might have known it. I wonder how the rest +of the family are getting on? Not that they are +any kin to me, for they are not. I called him +Brother Lion just to be neighborly. Oh, no! +He and his family are no kin to me. They are +too heavy in both head and feet for that.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes as if reflecting, and +patted the ground softly with his foot.</p> + +<p>“Well, well! I remember just as well as if it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +were yesterday the day I told Brother Lion that +if he wasn’t careful, Mr. Man would catch him +and put him in a cage for his children to look at. +But he just hooted at it—and now, sure enough, +there he is! I mind the first time he began his +pursuit of Mr. Man. That was the time he got +his hand caught in the split of the log.”</p> + +<p>“I done hear my daddy tell dat tale,” remarked +Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Rabbit, “it soon became +common talk in the neighborhood. Brother Lion +had come a long way to hunt Mr. Man, and as +soon as he got his hand out of the split in the +log he started to go home again. I went part of +the way with him, and then it was that I told +him he’d find himself in a cage if he wasn’t +careful. I made a burdock poultice for his hand +the best I could—”</p> + +<p>“And it’s mighty good for bruises, I tell you +now!” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>“And then Brother Lion went on home, feeling +better, but still very mad. Crippled as he +was, he was a quick traveler, and it was not long +before he came to his journey’s end.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="MR_RABBIT_BANDAGING_LION" id="MR_RABBIT_BANDAGING_LION"></a> +<img src="images/lmt15.jpg" width="500" height="465" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. RABBIT BANDAGING BROTHER LION’S PAW</span> +</div> + +<p>“Well, when his mother saw him she was very +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +sorry. But when he told her what the matter +was she was vexed. ‘Aha!’ said she, ‘how +often have I told you about meddling with somebody +else’s business! How often have I told +you about sticking your nose into things that +don’t concern you! I’m not sorry for you one +bit, because if you had obeyed me you wouldn’t +be coming home now with your hand mashed all +to flinders. But, no! daddy-like, you’ve got to +go and get yourself into trouble with Mr. Man, +and now you see what has come of it. I’m not +feeling at all well myself, but now I’ve got to go +to work and make a whole parcel of poultices and +tie your hand up and nurse you—and I declare +somebody ought to be nursing me this very minute.’</p> + +<p>“That was what Brother Lion’s mother said,” +continued Mr. Rabbit, “but Brother Lion didn’t +say anything. He just lay on the sheepskin +pallet she made him and studied how he would +be revenged on Mr. Man. After a while his +hand got well, but still he said very little about +the matter. The more he thought about the way +he had been treated, the madder he got. He +gnashed his teeth together and waved his long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +tail about until it looked like a snake. Finally +he sent word to all his kin—his uncles and his +cousins—to meet him somewhere in the woods +and hold a convention to consider how they +should catch the great monster, Mr. Man, who +had caused a log of wood to mash Brother Lion’s +hand.</p> + +<p>“Well, it wasn’t long before the uncles and +cousins began to arrive. They came from far +and near, and they seemed to be very ferocious. +They shook their manes and showed their tushes. +They went off in the woods and held their convention, +and Brother Lion laid his complaint before +them. He told them what kind of treatment +he had received from Mr. Man, and asked them if +they would help to get his revenge. He made +quite a speech, and when he sat down, his uncles +and cousins were very much excited. They +roared and howled. They said they were ready +to tear Mr. Man limb from limb. They declared +they were ready to go where he was, and gnaw +him and claw him on account of the scandalous +way he had treated their blood-kin.</p> + +<p>“But when Brother Lion’s mother heard what +they proposed to do she shut her eyes and shook +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +her head from side to side, and told the uncles +and the cousins that they had better go back +home, all of them. She said that before they +got through with Mr. Man they’d wish they had +never been born. But go they would and go +they did.</p> + +<p>“So they started out soon one morning, and +traveled night and day for nearly a week. They +were getting very tired and hungry, and some +of the younger blood-cousins wanted to stop and +rest, and some wanted to turn around and go +back home. But one morning while they were +going through the woods, feeling a little shaky +in head and limb, they suddenly came in sight of +Mr. Man. He was cutting down trees and splitting +them into timber. He had his coat off, and +seemed to be very busy.</p> + +<p>“But he was not so busy that he didn’t hear +Mr. Lion and his uncles and blood-cousins sneaking +through the woods over the dry leaves, and +he wasn’t so busy that he couldn’t see them +moving about among the trees. He was very +much astonished. He wondered where so many +of the Lion family came from, and what they +were doing there, but he didn’t stop to ask any +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +questions. He dropped his axe and climbed a +tree.</p> + +<p>“Brother Lion and his uncles and his blood-cousins +were very much pleased when they saw +Mr. Man climb the tree. ‘We have him now,’ +said Brother Lion, and the rest licked their jaws +and smiled. Then they gathered around the +tree and sat on their haunches and watched Mr. +Man. This didn’t do any good, for Mr. Man +sat on a limb and swung his legs, just as contentedly +as if he was sitting in his rocking-chair at +home.</p> + +<p>“Then Brother Lion and his uncles and his +blood-cousins showed their teeth and growled. +But this didn’t do any good. Mr. Man swung +his feet and whistled a dance-tune. Then +Brother Lion and his blood-cousins opened their +mouths wide and roared as loud as they could. +But this didn’t do any good. Mr. Man leaned +his head against the trunk of the tree and pretended +to be nodding.</p> + +<p>“This made Brother Lion and his blood-kin +very mad. They ran around the tree and tore +the bark with their claws, and waved their tails +back and forth. But this didn’t do any good. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +Mr. Man just sat up there and swung his feet +and laughed at them.</p> + +<p>“Brother Lion and his blood-kin soon found +that if they intended to capture Mr. Man they’d +have to do something else besides caper around +the foot of the tree. So they talked it over, and +Brother Lion fixed up a plan. He said that he +would stand at the foot of the tree and rear up +against the trunk, and one of his blood-cousins +could climb on his back and rear up, and then +another cousin or uncle could climb up, and so +on until there was a ladder of bloodthirsty Lions +high enough to reach Mr. Man.</p> + +<p>“Brother Lion, mind you, was to be at the bottom +of the Lion ladder,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, +with a chuckle, “and he had a very good reason +for it. He had had dealings with Mr. Man, and +he wanted to keep as far away from him as possible. +But before they made the Lion ladder, +Brother Lion looked up at Mr. Man and called +out:—</p> + +<p>“‘What are you doing up there?’</p> + +<p>“‘You’ll find out a great deal too soon for +your comfort,’ replied Mr. Man.</p> + +<p>“Brother Lion said, ‘Come down from there.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +“Mr. Man answered, ‘I’ll come down much +sooner than you want me to.’</p> + +<p>“Then Brother Lion, his uncles, and his blood-cousins +began to build their ladder. Brother +Lion was the bottom round of this ladder, as you +may say,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “He reared +up and placed his hands against the tree, and +one of his uncles jumped on his shoulders, and +put his hands against the tree. Then a cousin, +and then another uncle, and so on until the ladder +reached a considerable distance up the tree. +It was such a high ladder that it began to wobble, +and the last uncle had hard work to make +his way to the top. He climbed up very carefully +and slowly, for he was not used to this sort of +business. He was the oldest and the fiercest of +the old company, but his knees shook under him +as he climbed up and felt the ladder shaking and +wobbling.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Man saw that by the time this big Lion +got to the top of the ladder his teeth and his +claws would be too close for comfort, and so he +called out in an angry tone:—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;"> +<a name="LADDER_OF_LIONS" id="LADDER_OF_LIONS"></a> +<img src="images/lmt16.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LADDER OF LIONS</span> +</div> + +<p>“‘Just hold on! Just stand right still! Wait! +I’m not after any of you except that fellow at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +the bottom there. I’m not trying to catch any +of you but him. He has bothered me before. +I let him go once, but I’ll not let him get away +this time. Just stand right still and hold him +there till I climb down the other side of the +tree.’</p> + +<p>“With that Mr. Man shook the limbs and +leaves and dropped some pieces of bark. This +was more than Brother Lion could stand. He +was so frightened that he jumped from under the +ladder, and his uncles and his blood-cousins came +tumbling to the ground, howling, growling, and +fighting.</p> + +<p>“They were as sorry-looking a sight as ever +you saw when they came to their senses. Those +that didn’t have their bones broken by the fall +were torn and mangled. They had acted so +foolishly that out of the whole number, Mr. +Man didn’t get but three lion-skins that could be +called perfect.</p> + +<p>“Brother Lion went home to his mother as +fast as he could go and remained quiet a long +time. And now you tell me he’s in a cage.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit paused and shook his head until +his ears flopped.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +The children seemed to enjoy the story very +much; so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Meadows +wanted Mr. Rabbit to tell some of his own queer +experiences, but Mr. Rabbit laughed and said +that it didn’t seem exactly right to be telling his +own stories. He said if he told the stories just +as they happened, he’d have to talk about himself +a good deal, and people would think he was +boastful. He declared he didn’t feel like making +his young friends think he was bragging.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we shan’t mind that,” said Sweetest Susan, +“shall we, brother?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course not,” replied Buster John.</p> + +<p>“La! we all done hear folks brag, till we got +hardened ter braggin’!” exclaimed Drusilla.</p> + +<p>So the children, aided by Mrs. Meadows, +coaxed Mr. Rabbit until he finally consented to +tell some of his queer adventures.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + +<h2>BROTHER TERRAPIN’S FIDDLE-STRING.</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Rabbit moved his body uneasily about, +and scratched his head, and crossed and uncrossed +his legs several times before he began.</p> + +<p>“I declare it isn’t right!” he exclaimed after +a while. “I don’t mind telling about other folks, +but when it comes to talking about myself, it is +a different thing.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you remember the time you tried to get +Brother Terrapin to give you a fiddle-string?” +asked Mrs. Meadows, laughing a little.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was just a joke,” replied Mr. Rabbit.</p> + +<p>“Call it a joke, then,” said Mrs. Meadows. +“You know what the little boy said when the +man asked him his name. He said, says he, +‘You may call it anything, so you call me to dinner.’”</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t very polite,” remarked Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +“No, indeed,” Mrs. Meadows answered; “but +you know that little boys can’t always remember +to be polite.”</p> + +<p>“I think we were at your house,” suggested +Mr. Rabbit, rubbing his chin.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “In the little +house by the creek. The yard sloped from the +front door right to the bank.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure,” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, brightening +up. “I remember the house just as well +as if I had seen it yesterday. There was a little +shelf on the left-hand side of the door as you +came out, and there the water-bucket sat.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Meadows; “and there was +just room enough up there by the bucket for +Brother Terrapin.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” Mr. Rabbit replied, laughing, +“and when he used to go to your house to see +the girls they’d set the bucket on the table in the +house and lift Brother Terrapin to the shelf so he +could see and be seen. I remember it used to +make him very mad when I’d tell him he would +be a mighty man if he wasn’t so flat-footed.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you used to talk worse than that,” cried +Mrs. Meadows, laughing heartily at the remembrance +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +of it. “You used to tell him he was the +only man you ever saw that sat down when he +stood up. I declare! Brother Terrapin’s eyes +used to get right red.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, after a pause; “I remember +I went to your house one day and I carried +my fiddle. When I got there, who should +I see but old Brother Terrapin sitting up on the +shelf. I expected to find the girls by themselves, +but there was Brother Terrapin. So I began to +joke him.</p> + +<p>“‘Howdy, Brother Terrapin?’ says I. ‘If +you had a ladder handy you could come downstairs +and shake hands, couldn’t you?’</p> + +<p>“He began to get sullen and sulky at once. +He wouldn’t hardly make any reply. But I +didn’t care for that. Says I: ‘Cross your legs +and look comfortable, Brother Terrapin; don’t +be glum in company. I’ve got my fiddle with +me, and I’m going to make your bones ache if +you don’t dance.’</p> + +<p>“Then I whirled in,” said Mr. Rabbit, “and +played the liveliest tunes I could think of,—‘Billy +in the Low Grounds,’ ‘’Possum up the +Gum-Stump,’ ‘Chicken in the Bread-Tray,’ and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +all those hoppery-skippery, jiggery-dancery tunes +that make your feet go whether or no. But there +Brother Terrapin sat, looking as unconcerned as +if the fiddle had been ten miles away. He didn’t +even keep time to the music with his foot. More +than that, he didn’t even wag his head from side +to side.”</p> + +<p>“I always knew Brother Terrapin had no ear +for music,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “If that +was a fault, he certainly had more than his share +of it.”</p> + +<p>“I ought not to talk about people behind their +backs,” Mr. Rabbit continued, trying to shake a +fly out of his ear, “but I must say that Brother +Terrapin was very dull about some things. Well, +I played and played, and the girls danced and +seemed to enjoy it. I believe you danced a round +or two yourself?” Mr. Rabbit turned to Mrs. +Meadows inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“I expect I shook my foot a little,” said Mrs. +Meadows with a sigh. “I was none too good.”</p> + +<p>“They danced and danced until they were +tired of dancing,” Mr. Rabbit resumed; “but +there sat Brother Terrapin as quiet as if he were +asleep. Well, I was vexed—I don’t mind saying +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +so now—I was certainly vexed. But I +didn’t let on. And between tunes I did my best +to worry Brother Terrapin.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 479px;"> +<a name="MR_RABBIT_FIDDLING_FOR_TERRAPIN" id="MR_RABBIT_FIDDLING_FOR_TERRAPIN"></a> +<img src="images/lmt17.jpg" width="479" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. RABBIT FIDDLING FOR BROTHER TERRAPIN</span> +</div> + +<p>“‘Ladies,’ says I, ‘don’t make so much fuss. +Let Brother Terrapin get his nap out. You’ll +turn a chair over directly, and Brother Terrapin +will give a jump and fall off the shelf and break +some of the furniture in his house.’ This made +the girls laugh very much, for they remembered +the old saying that Brother Terrapin carries his +house on his back. ‘Don’t laugh so loud,’ says +I, ‘Brother Terrapin has earned his rest. He’s +been courting on the other side of the creek, and +he has no carriage to ride in when he goes back +and forth. Sh-h!’ says I, ‘don’t disturb him. +When a person sits down when he stands up, and +lies down when he walks, some allowance must be +made.’</p> + +<p>“Brother Terrapin’s eyes grew redder and redder, +and the skin on the back of his head began +to work backward and forward. What might +have happened I don’t know, but just as the girls +were in the middle of a dance one of my fiddle-strings +broke, and it was the treble, too. I +wouldn’t have minded it if it had been any of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +the other strings, but when the treble broke I had +to stop playing.</p> + +<p>“Well, the girls were very much disappointed +and so was I, for I had come for a frolic. I +searched in my pockets, but I had no other string. +I tried to play with three strings, but the tune +wouldn’t come. The girls were so sorry they +didn’t know what to do.</p> + +<p>“Just then an idea struck me. ‘Ladies,’ says +I, ‘it’s a thousand pities I didn’t bring an extra +treble, and I’m perfectly willing to go home and +fetch one, but if Brother Terrapin was a little +more accommodating the music could go right on. +You could be dancing again in a little or no time.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, is that so?’ says the girls. ‘Well, we +know Brother Terrapin will oblige us.’</p> + +<p>“‘I’m not so sure of that,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“‘What do you want me to do?’ says he. His +voice sounded as if he had the croup.</p> + +<p>“‘Ladies,’ says I, ‘you may believe it or not, +but if Brother Terrapin has a mind to he can lend +me a treble string that will just fit my fiddle.’</p> + +<p>“‘Brother Rabbit,’ says he, ‘you know I have +no fiddle-string. What would I be doing with +one?’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +“‘Don’t mind him, ladies. He knows just as +well as I do that he has a fiddle-string in his neck. +I can take my pocket-knife and get it out in half +a minute,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“This made Brother Terrapin roll his eyes.</p> + +<p>“‘Be ashamed of yourself, Brother Terrapin,’ +says the girls. ‘And we were having so much +fun, too.’</p> + +<p>“‘If my neck was as long and as tough as +Brother Terrapin’s, I’d take one of the leaders +out and make a fiddle-string of it, just to oblige +the ladies,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“The girls turned up their noses and tossed +their heads. ‘Don’t pester Brother Terrapin,’ +says they. ‘We’ll not ask him any more.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ladies,’ says I, ‘there is a way to get the +fiddle-string without asking for it. Will you +please hand me a case-knife out of the cupboard +there?’</p> + +<p>“I rose from my chair with a sort of a frown,” +continued Mr. Rabbit, laughing heartily, “but +before I could lift my hand Brother Terrapin +rolled from the shelf and went tumbling down the +slope to the creek, heels over head.”</p> + +<p>“Did it hurt him much?” asked Sweetest Susan, +with a touch of sympathy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +“It didn’t stop his tongue,” replied Mr. Rabbit. +“He crawled out on the other side of the +creek and said very bad words. He even went so +far as to call me out of my name. But it is all +over with now,” said Mr. Rabbit, with a sigh. +“I bear no grudges. Let bygones be bygones.”</p> + +<p>“I never heard before that Brother Terrapin +had a fiddle-string in his neck,” said Buster John, +after he had thought the matter over a little.</p> + +<p>“In dem times,” said Drusilla, as if to satisfy +her own mind, “you couldn’t tell what nobody +had skacely.”</p> + +<p>“Why, as to that,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “the +fiddle-string in his neck was news to Brother +Terrapin.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause here and the children seemed +to be somewhat listless.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I think,” remarked Mrs. +Meadows to Mr. Rabbit; “these children here +are lonesome, and they’ll be getting homesick +long before the time comes for them to go. Oh, +don’t tell me!” she cried, when the children +would have protested. “I know how I’d feel if +I was away from home in a strange country and +had nobody but queer people to talk to. We are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +too old. Even Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes +are too old, and Mr. Thimblefinger is +too little.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 442px;"> +<a name="TERRAPIN_TUMBLING_INTO_CREEK" id="TERRAPIN_TUMBLING_INTO_CREEK"></a> +<img src="images/lmt18.jpg" width="442" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">BROTHER TERRAPIN TUMBLING INTO THE CREEK</span> +</div> + +<p>“Well, what are we going to do about it?” +asked Mr. Rabbit, running his thumb in the bowl +of his pipe.</p> + +<p>“I was just thinking,” responded Mrs. Meadows. +“Hadn’t we better bring out the Looking-Glass +family?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, “I leave that to +you.” To hide the smile that gathered around +his mouth Mr. Rabbit leaned his head over and +scratched his left ear lazily with his left foot.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’ll do,” Mrs. Meadows declared +decisively. “These children want company they +can appreciate, poor things!”</p> + +<p>She went into the house, and presently came +out again, bringing a mirror about three feet wide +and five feet high.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<h2>IX.</h2> + +<h2>THE LOOKING-GLASS CHILDREN.</h2> + + +<p>The frame of the mirror was of dark wood, curiously +carved, and it was set on pivots between +two small but stout upright posts, made of the +same kind of wood. As Mrs. Meadows brought +the looking-glass out, it swung back and forth between +these posts, and its polished surface shone +with great brilliancy. The children wondered +how they were to amuse themselves with this +queer toy. Mrs. Meadows placed the looking-glass +a little way from them, but not facing them. +The frame was in profile, so that they could see +neither the face nor the back of the mirror.</p> + +<p>“You come first,” she said to Buster John.</p> + +<p>He went forward, and Mrs. Meadows placed +him in front of the looking-glass. As he turned +to face it, his reflection (as it seemed) stepped +from the mirror and stared at him. Buster John +looked at Mrs. Meadows for an explanation, but +at that moment she beckoned to Sweetest Susan. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +When Buster John moved, his image moved. +Mrs. Meadows pushed him gently aside to make +room for Sweetest Susan, and it seemed that +some invisible hand pushed his reflection gently +aside.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"> +<a name="SUSAN_MEETING_REFLECTION" id="SUSAN_MEETING_REFLECTION"></a> +<img src="images/lmt19.jpg" width="411" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">SWEETEST SUSAN MEETING HER REFLECTION</span> +</div> + +<p>Sweetest Susan stepped before the looking-glass, +and her reflection walked out to meet her. +Drusilla now came forward, and her image +stepped forth, looking somewhat scared and +showing the whites of its eyes. Mrs. Meadows +went to the looking-glass, gave it a sudden turn +on its pivots, and carried it into the house.</p> + +<p>All this happened so rapidly that the children +hardly had time to be surprised, but now that the +looking-glass had been carried away and they +were left with their reflections, their shadows, +their images (or whatever it was), they didn’t +know what to do, or say, or think. They could +only look at each other in dumb astonishment. +Drusilla was the first to break the silence. In +her surprise she had moved quickly back a few +steps, and her image, which had come out of the +looking-glass, had as quickly moved forward and +toward her a few steps.</p> + +<p>“Don’t come follerin’ atter me!” she cried +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +excitedly. “Kaze ef you do, you’ll sho’ git hurted. +I ain’t done nothin’ ’t all ter you. I ain’t gwine +ter pester you, an’ I ain’t gwine ter let you pester +me. I tell you dat now, so you’ll know what ter +’pen’ on.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t move! Please don’t move!” cried +Sweetest Susan to Buster John. “If you do I +can’t tell you apart. I won’t know which is +which. That wouldn’t be treating me right nor +Mamma, either.”</p> + +<p>Naturally, the children were in a great predicament +when Mrs. Meadows came back. She saw +the trouble at once, and began to laugh. It was +funny to see Buster John and Sweetest Susan and +Drusilla standing there staring first at the Looking-Glass +children and then at themselves, not +daring to move for fear they would get mixed +up with their doubles. The Looking-Glass children +stared likewise, first at themselves and then +at the others.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter?” Mrs. Meadows asked. +“Why don’t you go and play with one another +and make friends? It isn’t many folks that have +the chance you children have got.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel like playing,” said Sweetest +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +Susan. “I’m afraid we’ll get mixed up so that +nobody will know one from the other.”</p> + +<p>“Why, there’s all the difference in the world,” +exclaimed Mrs. Meadows, trying hard not to +laugh. “The Looking-Glass children are all left-handed. +You have a flower on the left side of +your hat, the other Susan has a flower on the +right side of hers. Your brother there has +buttons on the right side of his coat; the other +John has buttons on the left side. There is +a flaw in the looking-glass, and Drusilla, being a +little taller than you two, was just tall enough +for the end of her nose to be even with the +flaw. That’s the reason the other Drusilla’s +nose looks like it had been mashed with a hammer.”</p> + +<p>“Yes ’m, it do!” exclaimed Drusilla. She involuntarily +took a step forward to take a nearer +view of the flawed nose, and of course the other +Drusilla took a step forward as if to show the +flawed nose. “Don’t you dast ter come ’bout +me!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Goodness knows, I +don’t look dat away. Go on, now! Go ’ten’ ter +yo’ own business ef you got any.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to play with you,” said the other +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +Drusilla. “You’ve got smut on your face. I +don’t like to play with dirty-faced girls.”</p> + +<p>“My face cleaner’n yone dis blessed minnit,” +retorted Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“And your hair is not combed,” said the other +Drusilla. “It is wrapped with strings, and you +couldn’t comb it if you wanted to. I think it is +a shame.”</p> + +<p>“Look at yo’ own head!” retorted Drusilla +angrily. “It’s mo’ woolly dan what mine is. +’T ain’t never been kyarded much less combed. +An’ who got any mo’ strings roun’ der hair dan +you got on yone?”</p> + +<p>“How could I help it?” the other Drusilla +asked. “You came and looked at me in the glass +and I had to be just like you, smutty face and all. +I don’t think it is right. I know I never looked +like this before, and I hope I never shall again.”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut!” said Mrs. Meadows; “don’t get +to mooning around here. You might look better, +but you don’t look so bad. It will all come right +on wash-day, as the woman said when she put her +dress on wrong side outwards. Here comes Chickamy +Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes. They’ll +be glad to see you, no matter how you look.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +And they were. They ran to the Looking-Glass +children and greeted them warmly. Tickle-My-Toes +stared at the other Drusilla in surprise, +but he didn’t laugh at her. “You look as if +you had fallen down the chimney,” he said, “but +that doesn’t make any difference. So long as +you are here, we are satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it,” said the other Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, “you +couldn’t please us better than to sing us a +song. You haven’t practiced together for a +long time.”</p> + +<p>The other children looked at one another in a +shamefaced way, and then, without a word of objection +or explanation, they began to sing as with +one voice, the most plaintive song that ever was +heard. It may be called:—</p> + + +<h3>THE LOOKING-GLASS SONG.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It’s oh! and it’s ah! It’s alack! and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what could you say and what could you do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you lived all alone in the toe of a shoe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could hop, you could skip, you could jump, you could dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you’d hear very little of “shouldn’ts” and “shan’ts.”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could stump your big toe, and it would never get hurt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could kick up the sand, you could play in the dirt.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But it’s oh! and it’s ah! It’s alack! and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what could you do, and what would you say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you lived in the pantry all night and all day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could say it was jolly, and splendid, and nice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could eat all the jelly, and frighten the mice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could taste the preserves, you could nibble the cheese—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could smell the red pepper, and sit down and sneeze.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it’s oh! and it’s ah! It’s alack! and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what could you do if you lived under ground?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could ride Mr. Mole and go galloping round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could hear the black cricket a-playing his fife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For to quiet the baby and please his dear wife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could hear the green grasshopper frying his meat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the nest of the June-Bug under the wheat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could get all the goobers and artichokes, too—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You could peep from the window the grub-worm went through.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But it’s oh! and it’s ah! It’s alack! and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just imagine you lived in a big looking-glass!<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“Oh, I think that is splendid,” cried Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rabbit doesn’t like it much,” replied +Mrs. Meadows, “but I tell him it is pretty good +for children that were raised in a Looking-Glass.”</p> + +<p>“It will do very well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +“but you’ll hear nicer songs by the time you are +as old as I am.”</p> + +<p>“Dem ar white chillun done mighty well,” +said Drusilla, “but I don’t like de way dat ar nigger +gal hilt her head.”</p> + +<p>“Do they have to stay in the looking-glass?” +asked Buster John. “If they do I’m sorry for +them.”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t sorry fer dat black gal,” said Drusilla +spitefully. “She too ugly ter suit me.”</p> + +<p>“Whose fault is it but yours?” cried Chickamy +Crany Crow.</p> + +<p>“Yes, whose fault is it?” cried Tickle-My-Toes.</p> + +<p>“Come, come!” cries Mrs. Meadows. “We +want no trouble here.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll not trouble her,” answered Tickle-My-Toes. +“Old Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones will do +the troubling.”</p> + +<p>“Now you all heah dat!” exclaimed Drusilla, +in some alarm. “I ain’t pesterin’ nobody, an’ I +ain’t doin’ nothin’ ’t all. Ef I can’t talk I des ez +well quit livin’. I’m gwine home, I am, an’ ef I +can’t fin’ de way, den I’ll know who’ll have ter +answer fer it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you go,” said Mrs. Meadows, “you’ll +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +have company. The other black girl will have +to go too.”</p> + +<p>“How come dat?” exclaimed Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“It would take me too long to tell you,” replied +Mrs. Meadows. “Why does your shadow +in a looking-glass make every motion that you +make? Because it’s obliged to—that’s all. +That’s just the reason the other black girl would +follow you.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind Drusilla,” said Buster John. +“She just talks to hear herself talk. Her mouth +flies open before she knows it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the poor things won’t trouble you +long,” said Mrs. Meadows. “They’ll want to go +back home presently.”</p> + +<p>“Do they have to stay in the looking-glass?” +inquired Buster John, repeating a question he +had already asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, they were born and raised there,” replied +Mrs. Meadows. “It is their home, and, although +they are glad to get out for a little while, +they wouldn’t be very happy if they had to stay +out.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 385px;"> +<a name="PLUNGED_INTO_LOOKING_GLASS" id="PLUNGED_INTO_LOOKING_GLASS"></a> +<img src="images/lmt20.jpg" width="385" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THEY ALL PLUNGED INTO THE LOOKING-GLASS</span> +</div> + +<p>The children and the Looking-Glass children +played together a little while, or made believe to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +play, but they didn’t seem to enjoy themselves. +Mrs. Meadows noticed this and asked Mr. Rabbit +the reason.</p> + +<p>“Simple enough, simple enough,” Mr. Rabbit +answered. “They are so much alike in their +looks and ways and so different in their raising +that they can’t get on together. How would I +feel if my double were to walk out of the side of +the house and sit here facing me and mimicking +my every motion? I wouldn’t feel very comfortable, +I can tell you.”</p> + +<p>“I reckon not,” said Mrs. Meadows. Presently +she called the children, brought out the +looking-glass and told them it was time to bid the +others good-by. At this the other children seemed +to be very well pleased. The other Buster John +and the other Sweetest Susan shook hands all +round, and the other Drusilla made a curtsey +to the company. Then, with a run and a jump, +they plunged into the big looking-glass as you +have seen youngsters plunge into a pond of water.</p> + +<p>“Ho!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger, “they jumped +in with a splash, but they never made a ripple.”</p> + +<p>“They haven’t room enough in there to turn +around,” said Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +“Why not?” inquired Mr. Thimblefinger. +“To them the world is a looking-glass, and a +mighty little one at that. If you were to peep in +their glass now they’d peep back at you; but, as +they look at it, you are in a looking-glass and +they are out of it. And I wouldn’t be surprised +if they are a great deal sorrier for you than you +are for them.”</p> + +<p>“When are we to go home?” asked Sweetest +Susan plaintively.</p> + +<p>“Oho! you want to get back into your looking-glass!” +cried Mr. Thimblefinger merrily. +“Well, you won’t have long to wait. By rights, +you ought to stay here twelve hours, but the old +Spring Lizard and I have put our heads together, +and we’ve fixed it so that you can get back before +sundown.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it night at home now?” inquired Buster +John.</p> + +<p>“Why, they are hardly through washing the +dinner dishes,” replied Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>“It is just half past two,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, +looking at his watch.</p> + +<p>“Well, it look so dark all dis time dat I done +got hungry fer supper,” remarked Drusilla.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<h2>X.</h2> + +<h2>MR. RABBIT AS A RAIN-MAKER.</h2> + + +<p>“I hope it won’t rain,” said Sweetest Susan, +“for then the spring would fill up so we couldn’t +get out, and we should get wet down here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, “the +water is never wet down here. It is a little +damp, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s enough, I’m sure,” remarked +Mr. Rabbit. “It’s enough to give me the +wheezes when I first get up in the morning, and +it’s not at all comfortable, I can tell you.”</p> + +<p>“There is one funny thing about springs,” +said Mrs. Meadows, “no matter how much it +rains, they never get any fuller. They may run +a little freer, but they never get any fuller. +Speaking of rains,” she continued, turning to +Mr. Rabbit and laughing, “don’t you remember +the time you set yourself up as a rain-maker?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit chuckled so that he bent nearly +double.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +“I don’t remember that,” sighed Mr. Thimblefinger. +“You two have more jokes between you +than you can shake a stick at. That comes of +me being small and puny. Tell us about it, +please.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit fingered his pipe—a way he had +when he put on his thinking-cap, as Mrs. Meadows +expressed it—and presently said:—</p> + +<p>“It’s not such a joke after all, but I’ll let you +judge for yourself. Once upon a time, when all +of us lived next door, on the other side of the +spring, there was a tremendous drouth. I had +been living a long time, but never before had +seen such a long dry spell. Everybody was farming +except myself, and even I had planted a small +garden.</p> + +<p>“Well, there was a big rain about planting-time, +but after that came the drouth, and the +hot weather with it. One month, six weeks, two +months, ten weeks—and still no sign of rain. +The cotton was all shriveled up, and the corn +looked as if it would catch a-fire, it was so dry; +even the cow-peas turned yellow. Everything +was parched. The creeks ran dry, and the rivers +got so low the mills had to stop. I remember +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +that when Brother Bear tried to carry me across +the ferry his flatboat ran aground in the middle +of the river, and the water was so low we found +we could wade out.</p> + +<p>“The drouth got so bad that everybody was +complaining—everybody except me. Brother +Wolf and Brother Bear would come and sit on +my front porch and do nothing but complain; +but I said nothing. I simply smoked my pipe +and shook my head, and said nothing. They noticed +this, after so long a time, and one day, while +they were sitting there complaining and declaring +that they were ruined, I went in to get a drink +of water. I came back gently and heard them +asking each other how it was that I didn’t join +in their complaints. When I came out, Brother +Wolf says, says he: ‘Brother Rabbit, how are +your craps?’ I remember he said ‘craps.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ says I, ‘my craps are middling good. +They might be better, and they might be worse, +but I have no cause to grumble.’</p> + +<p>“They looked at each other, and then Brother +Bear asked if I had had any rain at my house. +‘None,’ says I, ‘to brag about—a drizzle here +and a drizzle there, but nothing to boast of.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +“They looked at each other in great surprise, +and then Brother Wolf spoke up. ‘Brother +Rabbit,’ says he, ‘how can you get a drizzle and +the rest of us not a drop?’</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ says I, ‘some folks that know me +call me the rain-maker. They may be right. +They may be wrong. I’m not going to squabble +about it. You can call me what you please. I +shall not dispute with you.’</p> + +<p>“Presently they went away, but it wasn’t long +before they came back, bringing with them all +the neighbors for miles around. They gathered +in the porch and in the yard and outside the gate, +and begged me, if I was a rain-maker, to make it +rain there and then to save their crops. They +begged me and begged me, but I sat cross-legged +and smoked my pipe—this same pipe you see +here. Brother Fox, who had done me many a +mean trick (though he was always well paid for +it), got on his knees and begged me to make it +rain for them.</p> + +<p>“Finally I told them that I’d make it rain for +the whole settlement on two conditions. The +first condition was that every one was to pay +toll.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="MR_RABBIT_SAYING_NOTHING" id="MR_RABBIT_SAYING_NOTHING"></a> +<img src="images/lmt21.jpg" width="500" height="414" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MR. RABBIT SAYING NOTHING</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +“Toll is the pay the miller takes out at the +mill,” remarked Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “you take your +turn of meal to the mill and the miller takes his +payment out of the meal. Well, I told them +they’d have to pay toll. They agreed to that, +and then asked what else they’d have to do, but +I said we’d attend to one thing at a time. First +let the toll be paid.</p> + +<p>“They went off, and in due time they came +back. Some brought corn and some brought +meal; some brought wheat and some brought +flour; some brought milk and some brought +butter; some brought honey in the clean, and +some brought honey in the comb; some brought +one thing and some brought another, but they all +brought something.</p> + +<p>“Then they gathered around and asked what +else they had to do. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘you certainly +act as if you wanted rain—all of you—there’s +no disputing that. You have paid the +toll according to agreement. You have surely +earned the rain, and now there’s nothing for +me to do but to find out how much rain you +want.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +“With that they all began to talk at once, especially +Brother Bear, who lived in the upland +district, where the drouth had been the worst, +but I put an end to that at once.</p> + +<p>“‘Hold on there!’ says I, ‘just wait! Don’t +get into any dispute around here. You are on +my grounds and at my house. Let’s have no +squabbling. I’m not feeling so mighty well, +anyhow, and the least fuss will be enough to +upset me. But the world is wide. Just go on +yonder hill and fix up the whole matter to suit +yourselves. Just come to some agreement as to +how much rain you want, and as soon as you +agree send me word, and then go home and hoist +your parasols, for there’ll surely be a sprinkle.’</p> + +<p>“Well,” Mr. Rabbit continued, “this was such +a sensible plan that they couldn’t help but agree +to it, and presently they all went to the hill and +began to talk the matter over, while I went into +the house.</p> + +<p>“This was in the morning. Well, dinner-time +came, but still no word had come from the convention +on the hill. I went out into the porch, +flung my red handkerchief over my face to keep +the flies off, and took my afternoon nap, but still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +no word came from the hill. Then I fell to +laughing, and laughed until I nearly choked myself.”</p> + +<p>“But what were you laughing at?” Buster +John inquired, with a serious air.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit paused, looked at the youngster +solemnly, and said, “Well, I’ll tell you. I didn’t +laugh because anybody had hurt my feelings. I +just laughed at circumstances. I sat and waited +until the afternoon was half gone, and then +slipped up the hill to see what was to be seen and +hear what was to be heard. Everything was very +quiet up there. Those who had gone up there to +decide what sort of rain they wanted were sitting; +around under the pine-trees, looking very sour +and saying nothing. The ground was torn up a +little in spots, and I thought I could see scattered +around little patches of hair and little pieces of +hide. I judged from that that the arguments +they had used were very serious. I watched them +from behind the bushes a little while, and then +Brother Bear walked out into the open and declared +that any one who didn’t want the rain to +be a trash-mover was anything but a nice fellow. +At this Brother Coon, who lived in the low +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +grounds, remarked that anybody who wanted +anything more than a drizzle was not well raised +at all.</p> + +<p>“Then I soon found out what the trouble was. +Brother Bear, living on the uplands, wanted a big +rain; Brother Coon, who lived in the low grounds, +wanted a little rain; Brother Fox wanted a tolerably +heavy shower; and Brother Mink just +wanted a cloudy night to coax the frogs out. +Some wanted a freshet, some wanted a drizzle, +and some wanted a fog.</p> + +<p>“They wouldn’t agree because they couldn’t +agree,” continued Brother Rabbit, “and finally +they slunk off to their homes one at a time. So +I didn’t have to make any rain at all.”</p> + +<p>“But you couldn’t have made it rain,” said +Sweetest Susan placidly.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say I could,” replied Mr. Rabbit. +“I told them I would make the rain if they +would agree among themselves.”</p> + +<p>“But you took what they brought you?” suggested +Sweetest Susan in a tone that was intended +for a rebuke.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<a name="BROTHER_BEAR_ARGUING" id="BROTHER_BEAR_ARGUING"></a> +<img src="images/lmt22.jpg" width="392" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">BROTHER BEAR ARGUING THE RAIN QUESTION</span> +</div> + +<p>“Well,” Mr. Rabbit answered, “you know +what the old saying is—‘Fools have to pay for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +their folly.’ They might as well have paid me as +to pay somebody else. That’s the way I looked +at it in those days. I don’t know how I’d look +at it now, because I’m not so nimble footed as I +used to be, nor so full of mischief.”</p> + +<p>“If there had been many more such fools in +your neighborhood,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, +“you could have set up a grocery-store.”</p> + +<p>There was a little pause, and then Mrs. Meadows, +looking around, exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>“Just look yonder, will you?”</p> + +<p>Chickamy Crany Crow had two sticks, and with +these she was playing on an imaginary fiddle. +Tickle-My-Toes had the broom, and this, he pretended, +was a banjo.</p> + +<p>The two queer-looking creatures wagged their +heads from side to side and patted the ground +with their feet, just as though they were making +sure-enough music, and presently Tickle-My-Toes +sang this song to a very lively tune:—</p> + + +<h3>OH, LULLYMALOO!</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I’ll up and I’ll grin if you tickle my chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I’ll sneeze if you tickle my nose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’ll up and I’ll cry if you tickle my eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But I’ll squeal if you tickle my toes!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, grin with your chinnery in,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sneeze with your nosery oze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cry with your wipery eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But please don’t tickle my toes!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I’ll grin and I’ll sneeze, I’ll cry and I’ll squeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And scare you with <em>ouches!</em> and <em>ohs!</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may tickle my head, you may tickle my heel,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But please don’t tickle my toes!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, grin with your innery chin,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And sneeze with your ozery nose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cry with your wipery eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But please don’t tickle my toes!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I’ll grin, <em>tee-hee!</em> and I’ll cry, <em>boo-hoo!</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I’ll sneeze, <em>icky chow! icky-chose!</em><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I’ll squeal just as loud, <em>Oh, Lullymaloo!</em><br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whenever you tickle my toes!<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla +laughed so heartily at this that Chickamy Crany +Crow and Tickle-My-Toes didn’t wait to repeat +the chorus of the song, but ran away, pretending +to be very much frightened. This made the +children laugh still more, and for the first time +they felt thoroughly at home in Mr. Thimblefinger’s +queer country.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<h2>XI.</h2> + +<h2>HOW BROTHER BEAR’S HAIR WAS COMBED.</h2> + + +<p>While Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla +were watching Chickamy Crany Crow and +Tickle-My-Toes run away, and laughing at them, +suddenly the sky in Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer +country grew brighter. The dark shadow of the +buttermilk-jug had disappeared, and there were +wavering lines of white light flashing across, as +though the sun were trying to shine through. +Along with these flashing lines there were wavering +lines of shadow that rippled and danced about +curiously. There seemed to be some tremendous +commotion going on. If some person with the +learning and wisdom of an astronomer had seen +this wonderful display, he would have been overcome +with awe and fear. He would have concluded +that the sky was about to go to pieces, +and ten to one he would have left his unreflecting +telescope swinging in the air, and crawled +under the bed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +But there was no astronomer in Mr. Thimblefinger’s +queer country, and the children had seen +too many strange sights to be very much alarmed. +Besides, Drusilla solved the mystery before they +had time to gather their fears together.</p> + +<p>“Shuh!” she exclaimed; “’t ain’t nothin’ ’t all. +When dey tuck de jug outin’ de spring de water +’bleedge to be shuck up.”</p> + +<p>And it was true. The rippling and wavering +in the sky of Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country +were caused by lifting the buttermilk-jug from +the spring. As soon as the commotion ceased, it +was seen that across the sky, from horizon to +horizon, dark lines and shadows extended. They +were irregular, and branched out here and there +in every direction. Drusilla gazed at them for +some moments without venturing to explain them. +Suddenly a shadow that seemed to have life and +motion made its appearance, and darted about +among the dark lines. Drusilla laughed.</p> + +<p>“La! Hit’s dat dead lim’ ober de spring, an’ +dere’s a jay-bird hoppin’ about in it right now. +Ain’t I done heah yo’ pa say dat lim’ ’ll hafter be +cut off ’fo’ it fall an’ break somebody’s head?”</p> + +<p>“Well, well! She ain’t so bad off up here as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +I thought she was,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, tapping +his forehead significantly.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t I done tell you dat dey’s mo’ in my +head dan what you kin comb out?” exclaimed +Drusilla indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Speaking of combing and things of that +sort,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, turning to Mrs. +Meadows, “did I ever tell you how Brother Bear +learned to comb his hair?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows reflected a moment, or pretended +to reflect. “Now, I’m not right certain +about that. Maybe you have and maybe you +haven’t; I don’t remember. How did you teach +Brother Bear to keep his hair roached and +parted? Mostly when I used to know him, he +went about looking mighty ragged and shabby.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit chuckled for several moments and +then said: “Well, in my courting-days, you +know, I used to go around fixed up in style. +Many and many a time I’ve heard the girls +whisper to one another and say, ‘Oh, my! Ain’t +Mr. Rabbit looking spruce to-day?’ There was +one season in particular that I was careful to +primp up and look sassy. I put bergamot oil on +my hair, and kept it brushed so slick that a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +fly would slip up and cripple himself if he lit +on it.</p> + +<p>“It so happened that my road took me by Brother +Bear’s house every day—right by the front +gate. Sometimes Mrs. Bear would be hanging +out clothes on the fence, sometimes she would be +sweeping off the front porch, and sometimes she +would be working in the garden; but no matter +what she was doing I’d cough and catch her eye, +and then I’d bow just as polite as you please.”</p> + +<p>“What were you doing all that for?” asked +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you,” Mr. Rabbit replied. “I +had a grudge against Brother Bear, and I wanted +to work a little scheme. Along at first I just +went on by the back of Brother Bear’s house, +and around through the woods home, but in a +few days I’d pass by the house and then get over +the fence and creep back to hear what Mrs. Bear +had to say. One morning I heard her talking. +She was out in the yard fixing to do her week’s +washing while Brother Bear was in the house +dozing. I could hear what Mrs. Bear said, but I +was too far off to hear what answer Brother Bear +made.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;"> +<a name="MRS_BEAR_HANGING_CLOTHES" id="MRS_BEAR_HANGING_CLOTHES"></a> +<img src="images/lmt23.jpg" width="432" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">MRS. BEAR HANGING OUT CLOTHES</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +“Mrs. Bear says, says she: ‘Honey, you ain’t +asleep, are you? Brother Rabbit has just gone +along by the gate dressed to kill.’ A grumbling +sound came from the house. Mrs. Bear +says, says she, ‘I wonder where he goes every +day, with his hair combed so slick?’ Grumble +in the house. ‘You’d better wish you looked +half as nice,’ says Mrs. Bear. Grumble in the +house. ‘Well, I don’t care if he is a grand +rascal, he looks nice and clean, and that’s +more than anybody can say about you,’ says +Mrs. Bear. Growl in the house. Mrs. Bear says, +says she, ‘Oh, you can rip and rear, but Brother +Rabbit goes about with his head combed, and he +looks lots better that way than them that go +about with rat nests in their hair—lots better.’”</p> + +<p>Here Brother Rabbit chuckled again. “I +thought to myself, thinks I, that I’d better be +getting on toward home, and so I crept back up +the fence and went on my way.</p> + +<p>“The next day as I was going along the road, +who should I meet but old Brother Bear himself. +Well, here’s a row, thinks I, but it didn’t turn +out so. Brother Bear was just as polite to me as +I had been to his old woman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +“We passed the time of day and talked about +the crops a little while, but I could see that +Brother Bear had something serious on his +mind. Finally, he shuffled around and sat down +on a stump beside the roadside.</p> + +<p>“‘Brother Rabbit,’ he says, says he, ‘how in +the world do you manage to keep your hair so +slick and smooth all the time? My old woman +sees you passing by every day, and she’s been +worrying the life out of me because I don’t keep +my hair combed that way. So I said to myself +I’d ask you the very next time I met you.’</p> + +<p>“Brother Bear was looking pretty rough and +tough, and so I says, says I, ‘You look as if she +had been tousling you about it.’</p> + +<p>“He hung his head at this, and shuffled around +and changed his seat. Says he: ‘No, it’s not so +bad as all that, but I want to ask you plump and +plain, if it’s a fair question, how you comb your +hair so it will stay nice?’</p> + +<p>“I looked at him and shook my head. Says +I, ‘Brother Bear, I don’t comb my hair.’</p> + +<p>“He was so much surprised that he opened his +mouth, and his tongue hung out on one side—a +big, red tongue that had known the taste of innocent +blood.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +“That’s the truth!” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan shuddered.</p> + +<p>“Says he, ‘Brother Rabbit, if you don’t comb +your hair, how in the wide world do you keep +it so smooth?’”</p> + +<p>“Says I, ‘Easy enough. Every morning my old +woman takes the axe and chops my head off—’”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” cried Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“‘Takes the axe and chops off my head,’” Mr. +Rabbit continued, as solemn as a judge, “‘and carries +it out in the yard, where she can have light +to see and room to work, and then she combs it +and combs it until every kink comes straight and +every hair is in its place. Then she brings my +head back, puts it where it belongs, and there it +is—all combed.’</p> + +<p>“Brother Bear seemed to be very much astonished. +Says he, ‘Doesn’t it hurt, Brother Rabbit?’</p> + +<p>“Says I, ‘Hurt who? I’m no chicken.’</p> + +<p>“Says he, ‘Doesn’t it bleed?’</p> + +<p>“Says I, ‘No more than enough to make my +appetite good.’”</p> + +<p>Mr. Rabbit paused and looked up at the ripples +of light and shade that were chasing each +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +other across the sky in Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer +country. Then he looked at the children.</p> + +<p>“The upshot of it was,” he continued, “that +Brother Bear went home and told Mrs. Bear how +I had my head combed every day. Woman-like, +she wanted to try it at once; so Brother Bear +laid his head on a log of wood, and Mrs. Bear got +the axe and raised it high in the air. Brother +Bear had just time to squall out, ‘Cut it off easy, +old woman!’ when the axe fell on his neck, and +there he was!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, did it kill him?” cried Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“That’s what the neighbors said,” replied Mr. +Rabbit placidly.</p> + +<p>Sweetest Susan didn’t seem to be at all pleased. +Seeing this, Mrs. Meadows exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>“To think of the poor little pigs Brother Bear +killed and ate!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Rabbit, “and the lambs!”</p> + +<p>“Worse than that!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger. +“Think of the little children he devoured! +Think of it!”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad he had his head cut off,” said Buster +John heartily.</p> + +<p>“Me too, honey,” assented Drusilla.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2>XII.</h2> + +<h2>A SINGING-MATCH.</h2> + + +<p>After telling how Brother Bear learned to +comb his hair, Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes and +seemed to be about to fall into a doze, as old people +have been known to do. During the pause +that followed, Sweetest Susan saw what appeared +to be a bird of peculiar shape sailing around in +the sky of Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country.</p> + +<p>It was long of body and seemed to have no +wings, and yet it sailed about overhead as majestically +and easily as an eagle could have done.</p> + +<p>“What sort of a bird is it?” inquired Sweetest +Susan, pointing out the object to Mrs. Meadows.</p> + +<p>“Now, really, I don’t know,” was the reply. +“They are so high in the sky and I’ve seen them +so often that I’ve never bothered my head about +them.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Thimblefinger climbed on the back of a +chair, so as to get a better view of the curious +bird, but he shook his head and climbed nimbly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +down again. The queer bird was too much for +Mr. Thimblefinger. Mr. Rabbit opened his eyes +lazily and looked at it.</p> + +<p>“If I’m not much mistaken—” he started to +say, but Drusilla broke in without any ceremony:—</p> + +<p>“’T ain’t nothin’ ’t all, but one er dem ar meller +bugs what swims roun’ in de spring.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I expect it <em>is</em> a mellow bug,” said Mrs. +Meadows, laughing. “I used to catch them +when I was a girl and put them in my handkerchief. +They smell just like a ripe apple.”</p> + +<p>“I thought it was a buzzard,” said Buster +John.</p> + +<p>“No,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “I used to be +well acquainted with Brother Buzzard, and when +he’s in the air he’s longer from side to side than +he is from end to end. I don’t know when I’ve +thought of Brother Buzzard before. I never liked +him much, but I used to see him sailing around +on sunshiny days, or sitting in the top of a dead +pine drying his wings after a heavy rain. He +cut a very funny figure sitting up there, with +his wings spread out and drooping like a sick +chicken.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 228px;"> +<a name="LITTLE_MR_T" id="LITTLE_MR_T"></a> +<img src="images/lmt24.jpg" width="228" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">LITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +“I remember the time, too, when he had a +singing-match with Brother Crow, and I nearly +laughed myself to death over it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, tell us about it,” cried Buster John.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing in it when it is told,” replied +Mr. Rabbit. “There are some things that +are funny when you see them, but not funny at +all when you come to tell about them.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t mind that,” said Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know exactly how it came about,” +resumed Mr. Rabbit, after a pause, “but as near +as I can remember, Brother Buzzard and Brother +Crow met with each other early one morning in +a big pine-tree. They howdied, but there was a +sort of coolness between them on account of the +fact that Brother Buzzard had been going about +the neighborhood making his brags and his boasts +that he could outfly Brother Crow. They hadn’t +been up in the tree very long before they began +to dispute. Brother Buzzard was not a very loud +talker in those days, whatever he may be now, +but Brother Crow could squall louder than a +woman who has been married twenty-two years. +And so there they had it, quarreling and disputing +and disturbing the peace.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +“What were they quarreling about?” Buster +John inquired.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “you know the +road that leads to Brag is the shortest route +to Bluster. Brother Buzzard and Brother Crow +were quarreling because they had been bragging, +and a little more and they’d have had a regular +pitched battle then and there.</p> + +<p>“‘Maybe you can outfly me, Brother Buzzard,’ +says Mr. Crow, ‘but I’ll be bound you can’t outsing +me.’</p> + +<p>“‘I have never tried,’ says Brother Buzzard, +says he.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, suppose you try it now,’ says Brother +Crow. ‘I’ll go you a fine suit of clothes, and a +cocked hat to boot, that I can sit here and sing +longer than you can,’ says he.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, ho!’ says Brother Buzzard, ‘you may +sing louder, but you can’t sing longer than I can,’ +says he.</p> + +<p>“‘Is it a go?’ says Brother Crow.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a go,’ says Brother Buzzard, says he.</p> + +<p>“‘It’s no fair bet,’ says Brother Crow, ‘because +you are a bigger man than I am, and it +stands to reason that you have got more wind in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +your craw than I have, but I shall give you one +trial if I split my gizzard,’ says he.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, scratching his +head thoughtfully, “those were the very words he +used—‘if I split my gizzard,’ says he. Well, +they shook hands to ratify the bet, and then Brother +Crow, without making any flourishes, raised +the tune,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“Then Brother Buzzard flung his head back +and chimed in,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>and such another racket as they made I never +heard before, and have never heard since.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what kind of a song was it?” inquired +Sweetest Susan. “I’m sure I never heard such +a song.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “you are young +and I am old, but you know just as much about +that song as I do, and maybe more than I do, for +you haven’t been pestered with it as long as I +have. It is a worse riddle to me than it was the +day I heard it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +“What did they do then?” asked Buster +John.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Mr. Rabbit replied, “they sat there +and sang just as I told you. Brother Buzzard +would stop to catch his breath and then break +out,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>and then Brother Crow would squall out,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Oh, Susy, my Susy, gangloo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, Milly, my Molly, langloo!’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“They sang on until they began to get hungry, +and as Brother Buzzard seemed to be the biggest +and fattest of the two, everybody thought +he would hold out the longest. But Brother +Crow was plucky, and he sang right along in +spite of the emptiness in his craw. He didn’t +squall as loud as he did at first, but every time +Brother Buzzard sang, Brother Crow would sing, +too. By and by, they both began to get very +weak.</p> + +<p>“At last, as luck would have it, Brother Crow +saw his wife flying over, and he sang out as loud +as he could:—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 482px;"> +<a name="SINGING_MATCH" id="SINGING_MATCH"></a> +<img src="images/lmt25.jpg" width="482" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE SINGING-MATCH</span> +</div> + +<p>“‘Oh, Susy!—Go tell my children—my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +Susy,—to bring my dinner—gangloo!—and +tell them—oh, Milly, my Molly,—to bring it +quickly—langloo!’</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t very long after that before all Brother +Crow’s family connections came flying to +help him, and as soon as they found out how +matters stood they brought him more victuals +than he knew what to do with. Brother Buzzard +held out as long as he could, but he was obliged +to give up, and since that time there has been +mighty little singing in the Buzzard family.</p> + +<p>“But that isn’t all,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, as +solemnly as if he were pointing a moral. “Since +that time Brother Crow, who was dressed in +white, has been wearing the black suit that he +won from Brother Buzzard.”</p> + +<p>“Speaking of singing birds,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, +turning to Mrs. Meadows, “what is +that song I used to hear you humming about a +little bird?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s just a nonsense song,” replied Mrs. +Meadows. “It has no beginning and no ending.”</p> + +<p>But the children said they wanted to hear it, +anyhow, and so Mrs. Meadows sang about—</p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<h3>THE LITTLE BIRD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was once a little Bird so full of Song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Jay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Don’t you wish you could sit and sing that way?”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Mercy, no!” said the Jay; “for he sings too late;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sing well enough for to please my Mate.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was once a little Bird so full of Song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Crow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Don’t you wish you could sit and sing just so?”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Do hush,” said the Crow, “or I’ll start for to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be—caw—caw—cause he’s a-losing of his sleep.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was once a little Bird so full of Song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he sang in the Rose-Bush the whole Night long.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And “Oh,” said the Redbird to the Wren,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Don’t you wish you could sing so now and then?”<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“Not me,” said the Wren as she shook her Head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">“I think his Mamma ought to put him to Bed.”<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the Singing Bird was so full of Glee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he sang all night in the Rose-Bush Tree.<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIII.</h2> + +<h2>THE STRAWBERRY-GIRL.</h2> + + +<p>“Isn’t it almost time for us to start home?” +said Sweetest Susan, turning to Mr. Thimblefinger.</p> + +<p>“Why, you’ve got all the afternoon before +you,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “Besides it +will be downhill all the way. I was just going +to tell you a story, but if you really want to go +I’ll put off the telling of it until some of your +grandchildren tumble in the spring when the +wet water has run out and the dry water has +taken its place.”</p> + +<p>“Tell the story, please,” said Buster John.</p> + +<p>“It’s about a girl,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. +“She was called the Strawberry-Girl. +My mother knew the girl well, and I’ve heard +her tell the story many a time. But if you want +to go home—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, please tell the story,” cried Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger; “once there +was an old woman who lived in the woods. She +lived all alone, and people said she was a witch. +She was so old that the skin on her forehead had +deep wrinkles in it, and these wrinkles caused +everybody to think that the old woman was +frowning all the time. People called her Granny +Grim-Eye.</p> + +<p>“Whenever Granny Grim-Eye got hungry she +went to a strawberry-patch in the field near +where she lived, and gathered a basket of strawberries. +One day when she went after strawberries +she found a beautiful little girl asleep in +the patch.</p> + +<p>“‘Hity-tity!’ said Granny Grim-Eye, ‘what +are you doing here? Where did you come from, +and where are you going?’</p> + +<p>“The little girl awoke and stared at Granny +Grim-Eye. She was tied to a blackberry-bush +by a silver chain so fine that the links of it could +hardly be seen with the naked eye. ‘Who are +you?’ asked Granny Grim-Eye.</p> + +<p>“‘Nothing nor nobody,’ replied the little girl, +and that was all the answer Granny Grim-Eye +could get from the child.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL_ASLEEP" id="BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL_ASLEEP"></a> +<img src="images/lmt26.jpg" width="500" height="320" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">GRANNY GRIM-EYE FINDS A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL ASLEEP</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +“‘Well,’ said Granny Grim-Eye, ‘this is my +strawberry-patch, and everything I find in it belongs +to me. I’ll take you home and see what I +can make out of you.’</p> + +<p>“So she took the girl home and cared for her, +giving her the name of the Strawberry-Girl. In +the course of time the Strawberry-Girl grew to +be the most beautiful young woman in the country, +but her mind was not bright. In fact, I +have heard my mother say that the Strawberry-Girl +was as stupid and as silly as she could be, +but she was so beautiful that people were inclined +to forgive her for being stupid.</p> + +<p>“Granny Grim-Eye used to send her with +strawberries to sell to the rich man who owned +nearly all the land in that part of the country. +Now, this rich man fell in love with the Strawberry-Girl, +but when he found that she was both +stupid and silly he gave up all thought of marrying +her. He was very fond of her, nevertheless, +and bought all the berries she had for sale. But +when she began to talk he would turn away with +a sigh, for everything she said was stupid.</p> + +<p>“It so happened one day that Granny Grim-Eye +was too sick to pick the strawberries +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +herself, as she always had done, and she was afraid +to trust the Strawberry-Girl to pick them. But +the rich man sent word that he was to have a +company of friends to dinner and he must have +some strawberries. There was nothing for Granny +Grim-Eye to do but to send the Strawberry-Girl +to the patch. Granny Grim-Eye called her up +and cautioned her not to pick anything but good, +ripe strawberries, and then sent her off to the +patch.</p> + +<p>“But on the way the Strawberry-Girl saw +some red berries growing on bushes, and these +she picked and put in the basket until it was full. +‘These are just as red as ripe strawberries,’ she +said, ‘and they will do just as well. Besides, +they are a great deal easier to pick.’</p> + +<p>“The way to the rich man’s house led through +a very thick wood, and while the Strawberry-Girl +was going through this wood a little old man +stepped from a hollow tree and stood in the path +before her.</p> + +<p>“‘Aha!’ says he, ‘I find you alone at last. +Where are you going, and what have you +got?’</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<a name="OLD_MAN_DISCOVERS_STRAWBERRY_GIRL" id="OLD_MAN_DISCOVERS_STRAWBERRY_GIRL"></a> +<img src="images/lmt27.jpg" width="418" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LITTLE OLD MAN DISCOVERS THE STRAWBERRY-GIRL</span> +</div> + +<p>“‘I am carrying some strawberries to your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +master,’ says the Strawberry-Girl, who imagined +that the rich man was everybody’s master.</p> + +<p>“‘My master!’ cries the little old man; ‘my +master! But if he were my master, and I wanted +to get rid of him, I’d not get in your path, for +every berry in your basket is rank poison.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, anyhow, they are red,’ says the stupid +Strawberry-Girl.</p> + +<p>“‘So they are,’ says the little old man. ‘But +if you want to kill your master carry them to him.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, I don’t want to kill him,’ says the +Strawberry-Girl. ‘He pays too well.’</p> + +<p>“‘Once you belonged to me,’ says the little old +man. ‘I tied you to a blackberry-bush with a fine +silver chain, and left you there until I could attend +to some business in the city. When I came +back you were gone. I hunted for you high and +low only to hear that you had been found by +Granny Grim-Eye. What is the result? You +have grown up beautiful and stupid. After all +these years you don’t know a strawberry from a +dragon’s-apple. If you had remained with me +you would have grown to be the most beautiful +as well as the wittiest woman in the world. You +would have known everything that is hidden in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +nature—everything that has been stored between +the lids of all the books. It is a great pity!’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ says the stupid Strawberry-Girl, ‘I expect +it is; but what must I do with these berries? +I haven’t time to pick more.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ says the little old man, ‘I’ll make a +bargain with you. I’ll fill your basket with the +finest berries that were ever seen, and I’ll make +you the wittiest woman in the world if at the end +of one year you will marry me.’</p> + +<p>“The stupid Strawberry-Girl gave her promise, +and then the little old man touched her on the +forehead with his left thumb, pointed at a bright +star with his right forefinger, and then went +back to his hollow tree, warning the girl not to +forget her promise.</p> + +<p>“When she looked in the basket the red +dragon’s-apples had disappeared, and in their +place she saw the finest strawberries that had +ever been grown. These she carried to the rich +man, who was as much surprised at the size and +lusciousness of the berries as his guests were at +the extraordinary beauty of the young girl. They +praised her beauty to their host, who shook his +head and said that beauty ceased to be beautiful +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +when it was tied to stupidity. The guests, however, +would not believe that so beautiful a creature +could be stupid, and to satisfy them the rich +man sent for the girl and engaged her in conversation. +Her replies were so wise, so apt, and so +witty, as to astound all the company, while the +rich man was dumfounded with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“After that, when the Strawberry-Girl came +with berries for sale, the rich man always sent for +her, and her wit and intelligence were so pleasing +to him that he finally asked her to be his wife. +But she remembered the bargain she had made +with the little old man who had met her in the +wood, and she told the rich man that she would +have to take time to consider his proposal.</p> + +<p>“She was very much worried. She fretted +until she began to lose some of her beauty, and +when Granny Grim-Eye saw this she began to +ask questions, and it was not long before she +found out all about the bargain the Strawberry-Girl +had made with the little Old Man of the +Wood.</p> + +<p>“‘Oho!’ she cried. ‘He is up to his old +tricks, is he? Well, we shall see!’</p> + +<p>“So she went to her chest and got the silver +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +chain with which the Strawberry-Girl had been +fastened to the blackberry-bush, and wrapped +and twined it in the shape of a star. This star +she fixed on the Strawberry-Girl’s forehead by +means of a velvet band, and told her to wear it +constantly.</p> + +<p>“It happened that on the very day the year +expired the Strawberry-Girl was walking through +the wood. The little old man jumped from his +hollow tree and ran forward to claim his bride. +But when he saw the star shining on her forehead +he gave a loud cry, threw his hands before +his eyes, and turned and fled through the +wood faster than any deer could have done. Nobody +ever saw him again, and the Strawberry-Girl +married the rich man and lived happily for many +long years.”</p> + +<p>“I think that is a nice story,” said Sweetest +Susan.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you do,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. +“My mother knew all the facts in the +case, and I’ve heard her tell it many a time. I +may have left out some of the happenings, but +these and many others you can supply for yourself.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIV.</h2> + +<h2>THE WITCH OF THE WELL.</h2> + + +<p>While Mr. Thimblefinger was telling the story +of the Strawberry-Girl, Chickamy Crany Crow +and Tickle-My-Toes had drawn near to listen. +Chickamy Crany Crow stood near Mrs. Meadows, +and seemed to be very much interested. When +Mr. Thimblefinger had concluded, she would have +gone away, but Mrs. Meadows detained her.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mrs. Meadows, as Chickamy Crany +Crow tried to pull her hand away; “you must +stay right here and tell the children the story of +the Witch of the Well.”</p> + +<p>“They know it already,” said Chickamy Crany +Crow, trying to hide behind Mrs. Meadows’s +chair.</p> + +<p>“No, we don’t,” exclaimed Buster John. “We +know the old rhyme about</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went to the well to wash her toe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when she came back her chicken was gone.’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +That’s the rhyme we say in the game, but we +never heard the story.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell it to so many,” said Chickamy +Crany Crow.</p> + +<p>“Well, tell it to me, then,” replied Mrs. Meadows +coaxingly. “The rest won’t listen any more +than they can help.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Chickamy Crany Crow, “one +time there was an old woman that lived near a +well. For a long time nobody thought she was +a witch, but after a while people began to have +their suspicions. There was a quagmire in the +road right in front of the old woman’s house, and +every traveler passing that way was sure to get +mud on his feet. No matter whether he was +riding horseback or in a buggy, it was all the +same. He was sure to get his feet muddy. And +the mud was so black, and thick, and heavy, +that he was anxious to get it off as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>“It happened, too, that every time a traveler +crossed the quagmire, after getting the black, +heavy mud on his feet, the old woman would be +sitting in her door smoking a cob pipe.</p> + +<p>“‘Howdy, dearie!’ she would say. ‘Why, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +you’re full of nasty mud! Go to the well yonder, +dearie, and wash it off.’</p> + +<p>“The traveler would leave his buggy and horse, +or his horse and saddle, or his bundle at the old +witch’s door, and go to the well to wash his feet. +When he came back everything would be gone,—witch, +horse, buggy, saddle, or bundle. The +quagmire would be dried up, and the road itself +would seem to be a different road. Sometimes it +would be days and days before the traveler could +find his way to the place where he started.</p> + +<p>“One day a traveler came along the road in a +fine carriage. With him he had a beautiful little +girl with long golden hair. She had eyes as blue +and as clear as the water in the spring when the +sunshine slants through, and her skin was as white +as milk. When the carriage had crossed the +quagmire, the traveler found that his feet were +covered with the black, heavy mud. He couldn’t +imagine how it had happened. There was no +hole in the bottom of the carriage, the door was +shut tight, and there was no way for the mud to +get in. He said to the little girl:—</p> + +<p>“‘Daughter, are your feet muddy?’</p> + +<p>“‘Not a bit, father.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +“When the carriage crossed the quagmire, +there sat the old woman in the door.</p> + +<p>“‘Howdy, dearie!’ says she. ‘And how did +you get the nasty mud on your feet? Yonder is +a well; leave your carriage here and go wash it +off.’</p> + +<p>“So the traveler kissed his daughter, for he +was very fond of her, and went to the well to +wash his feet. When he came back, daughter, +carriage, and old woman had all disappeared. He +wandered around like a crazy man for many days, +and at last came to where my mother lived and +told his story. This wasn’t the first time she had +heard such a tale, and she concluded to see what +the matter was. So she called me and gave me +a black chicken and told me to go by the old +woman’s house and see what happened.</p> + +<p>“I took the chicken, which was tied by the +legs, and went along the road until I came to the +quagmire. I tried to pick my way around it, but +the black mud bubbled up and flew at my feet, +and finally it became so thick and heavy I could +scarcely walk. When I got across, there sat the +old woman smoking her cob pipe and grinning.</p> + +<p>“‘Howdy, dearie!’ says she.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +“‘Howdy, granny!’ says I.</p> + +<p>“‘Leave your fat chicken here,’ says she, ‘and +go to yonder well and wash your toe.’</p> + +<p>“‘Thanky, granny; that I will,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“So I went to the well, but when I came back +my chicken was gone. And so was the old woman, +and the quagmire. But I didn’t get +frightened. I went back to the well and began +to sing,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I went to the well to wash my toe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I came back my chicken was gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What o’clock, old witch?’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“I hadn’t been there long before the mud began +to bubble up again, and out of it came the +old witch. And then what seemed to be a thick +mist cleared away, and there was the old witch’s +house, and inside I could see the beautiful little +girl crying for her father. I intended to run +home and tell what I had seen, but before I could +move out of my tracks I heard the old woman +coming to the well. In coming up out of the +quagmire she had got mud on her feet. She had +pulled off her shoes for comfort, and had been going +about in her stocking-feet, and of course when +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +she disappeared in the quagmire, and came up +through it again, her stockings were full of mud; +and so she came to the well to wash them.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know whether to run or stay, but I +stayed, and as soon as the old woman got in sight, +I sat on the ground and began to rock my body +backwards and forwards, crying,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Oh, mercy me! Oh, what shall I do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can’t get the black mud off of my shoe!’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“The old woman seemed to be very angry when +she first saw me, but I pretended to pay no attention +to her. I just rocked backwards and forwards, +and cried that I couldn’t get the black +mud off of my shoe. The old woman sat down +and pulled off her stockings, and began to wash +them. When she had finished one, she threw it +behind her on the grass to dry. Being wet and +heavy it fell farther from her hand than she intended. +It fell close to me, and I picked it up +and stuffed it in my pocket.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” asked Buster John bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I hardly know,” replied Chickamy +Crany Crow, somewhat embarrassed at the suddenness +of the question. “I wanted to get even +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +with her for stealing my fat chicken. I hardly +knew what I was doing, and I certainly didn’t +know how it would turn out. Well, I stuffed the +old woman’s wet stocking in my pocket, and kept +on crying out that I didn’t know how to get the +black mud off of my shoe.</p> + +<p>“‘Do as I do,’ said the old woman. Then I +went and sat on the grass in front of her, and +washed the mud from my shoe.</p> + +<p>“For the first time I saw what a horrible-looking +creature the old woman was. Her eyes were +sunk in her head, her nose was hooked over her +mouth, and she had two long upper teeth that +hung lower than her under lip. I says to myself, +‘Well, old lady, if you are not a witch, there +never was one.’ She washed her stocking, mumbling +and chewing, and when she had finished +she threw it behind her, and sat hugging her +knees, and glaring at me in a way that made my +flesh crawl.</p> + +<p>“‘What is your name?’ says she.</p> + +<p>“‘Chickamy Crany Crow,’ says I.</p> + +<p>“‘What are you doing here?’ says she.</p> + +<p>“Says I, ‘I went to the well to wash my toe, +but when I came back my chicken was gone.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +“Then the old woman began to laugh like a +cackling hen, and she laughed so loud and laughed +so long that it scared me. I got up and pretended +to be going home, but when I had gone +a little way I hid behind a big tree, and watched +the old woman’s antics. She kept on laughing +for some time, and then she reached out for her +stockings. She found the only one she had left, +and put it on. Then she reached around for the +other, but failed to find it, because I had it +in my pocket. This seemed to puzzle her. She +stood up and looked all around for her missing +stocking, but it wasn’t there. Then she sat +down again, pulled off the stocking she had on, +and put it on the other foot.</p> + +<p>“But she still lacked a stocking. This seemed +to puzzle the old witch worse than ever. Once +more she pulled off the stocking and put it on the +other foot, and appeared to be very much astonished +because one foot was still bare.”</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t ’a’ had much sense!” exclaimed +Drusilla.</p> + +<p>“Not about stockings and things like that,” +said Chickamy Crany Crow. “Well, she sat +there, pulling the stocking from one foot and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +putting it on the other, until she seemed to forget +about everything else. I watched her until +I got tired, and then I thought I would take her +missing stocking and throw it in the quagmire.</p> + +<p>“The moment I did this, the quagmire began +to bubble, and hiss, and roll, and toss and tumble +about, and soon it disappeared altogether. A little +fog arose when the quagmire sank out of +sight, and when this cleared away, there stood the +carriage that had brought the beautiful little girl +with the golden hair, and the little girl herself +was sitting in it, ready to go to her father. But +this wasn’t all. All around, there were numbers +of horses and buggies, and all sorts of bundles +and money-purses, and everything that travelers +carry along with them.</p> + +<p>“Well, I got in the carriage with the beautiful +little girl, clucked to the horses, and drove to my +mother’s house. All the horses with saddles, and +all the horses hitched to buggies, followed along +after us, and there was great rejoicing among the +people as we went by.”</p> + +<p>“What became of the old witch?” asked Buster +John.</p> + +<p>“She stayed there, trying to make one stocking +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +do for two feet, until the well dried up, and +after that I don’t know what became of her.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have been a young man,” said +Sweetest Susan, who had been reading fairy stories, +“so that you could have married the beautiful +girl with golden hair, after rescuing her. +Besides, your name would have been in the +books.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” answered Chickamy Crany Crow, smiling +for the first time, “there are plenty of names +in the books that you never hear of; but now, +wherever little children get together to play +games, you will hear them saying the rhyme that +tells a part of my story,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Chickamy, Chickamy Crany Crow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went to the well to wash her toe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when she got back her chicken was gone.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 405px;"> +<a name="BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL" id="BEAUTIFUL_LITTLE_GIRL"></a> +<img src="images/lmt28.jpg" width="405" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE GOLDEN-HAIRED, BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> +<h2>XV.</h2> + +<h2>THE BEWITCHED HUNTSMAN.</h2> + + +<p>“There used to be a great many more witches +than there are now,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. +“I reckon it’s because folks have more +business of their own to attend to; or, it may +be a change in the climate. I hear old people +say that the winters are colder now than they +used to be, and the summers hotter. Maybe that +has something to do with it. Anyhow, something +has happened to thin the witches out.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Rabbit; “I’ve noticed that +they are scarcer than they used to be, but I never +inquired into the whys and wherefores. They +never bothered me, and I never bothered them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, when I first came here,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, +“I noticed Jimmy Jay-Bird bringing +sand and mortar every Friday, and it occurred to +me that he was preparing to lay the foundations +of a witch’s house in this country. So I says to +myself, says I, ‘I’ll keep an eye on Jimmy, and see +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +where he gets in and out; for, surely, he doesn’t +come by way of the spring.’ But Jimmy Jay-Bird +was pretty slick, and it was some time before I +found out where he came down and went out. By +some means or other, he had discovered the big +hollow poplar on the spring branch, and he was +coming and going that way.”</p> + +<p>“I know where it is,” said Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “It is the +oldest and the biggest tree in the whole country +next door. But as soon as I found that Jimmy +Jay-Bird was using it as a passageway, I drove a +peg in the hole and put an end to his schemes, +whatever they may have been. I don’t know +where he carries his sand and mortar now, and +I don’t care.</p> + +<p>“But I didn’t start out to tell anything about +Jimmy Jay-Bird,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, +after pausing a moment. “I was thinking about +the way a witch was caught by a boy no bigger +and not much older than our young friend here.”</p> + +<p>“Tell us about it, please!” cried Buster John +enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “it’s not +much of a story. You can’t take a handful of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +facts and make a story of them unless you know +how to fling them together. The best I can do +is to tell it just as it happened as near as I can +remember.</p> + +<p>“When I was a little bit of a fellow—now +don’t laugh!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger, seeing +Mr. Rabbit wink at Mrs. Meadows,—“I mean +when I was in my teens. Well, when I was +younger than I am now, an old witch lived not +far from our house. Her eyes were red around +the rims, and her eyeballs looked as if they had +been boiled. Everybody called her Peggy Pig-Eye, +and she answered to that name about as well +as she did to any other. Near her house there +lived a man who had a wife and a son. He was +a tolerably well-to-do man, and all the neighbors +thought very well of him. But he used to go to +town every sale-day, and at night he would come +home feeling very gay. I don’t know what there +was in town to make him feel so gay, but I know +that he used to come by our house singing at the +top of his voice and cutting up all sorts of shines.</p> + +<p>“Well, one night when he was going back +home whooping and yelling, he saw something +dark in the road before him, and he rode his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +horse at it full tilt. The horse seemed to have +little taste for such sport, for he snorted and +wanted to shy around the dark object. But the +man clapped spurs to the horse and drove him +right at it. The black thing ran, and the man +spurred his horse after it. It ran down the road, +then across an old field and back into the road +again, the man pursuing it as hard as he could +make his horse go. Finally it ran into Peggy +Pig-Eye’s yard and under her house, and the man +went clattering after it. Just as he pulled his +horse up (to keep the animal from running broadside +into the house) the door opened, and Peggy +Pig-Eye put her head out.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ she cried. ‘And you +are after me, are you? Very well!’ With that +she clapped the door to, and the man rode on +home, not feeling as lively as he had felt.</p> + +<p>“Now, it happened that this man was a great +hunter. He had a pack of fine dogs, and he was +very fond of them. He hunted deer with them +by day, and raccoons and ’possums by night. +The first time he went hunting after riding into +Peggy Pig-Eye’s yard was at night. He didn’t +go very far from his house before his dogs struck +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +a warm trail and went scurrying towards the big +swamp at a great rate. A negro, who went along +to carry the light and cut the tree down, shook +his head and declared the dogs were not barking +to suit him. He said there was more whine than +growl to the noise they were making.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, the dogs went scurrying to the big +swamp, and the man and the negro followed as +fast as they could. The dogs treed right at the +edge of the swamp, and when the man and the +negro got there, they were barking up a big poplar. +The negro held his torch behind him so as +to ‘shine’ in the raccoon’s eyes,—if it was a +raccoon,—but he could see nothing.</p> + +<p>“‘Cut the tree down,’ said the man.</p> + +<p>“The negro shook his head, but he whacked +away at the poplar with his axe, and cut it so +that it would fall away from the swamp. The +tree fell with a tremendous crash, and the dogs +rushed into the top limbs, followed by the man +and the negro. But before they could wink +their eyes, something tall and white walked out, +and cried:—</p> + +<p>“‘<em>You are always after me!</em>’</p> + +<p>“The negro threw down the torch and the axe, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +and ran home as fast as he could. The dogs tried +hard to catch the white thing, whatever it was, +but as soon as they got near enough to bite it, +they tucked their tails between their legs and ran +howling back to their master.</p> + +<p>“This happened every time the man went out +to hunt raccoons and ’possums. The dogs would +strike a warm trail not far from the house, run to +the edge of the swamp, and bay up a tree, and then +when the tree was cut down, something tall and +white would walk from the top limbs, and cry out:</p> + +<p>“‘<em>You are always after me!</em>’</p> + +<p>“The man thought it was very queer, but he +wasn’t frightened. He said to himself that if he +couldn’t catch raccoons and ’possums, maybe he +could catch a fox. So he called up his dogs one +morning just about day, mounted his horse, and +started out to catch a fox. Before they had gone +a hundred yards from the house, the dogs found +a warm trail and began to follow it in lively style. +The man spurred his horse after them and harked +them on. They ran around in a wide circle, +and presently something white flitted by the man, +with the dogs after it in full cry. As it went by +it screamed out:—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +“‘<em>You are always after me!</em>’</p> + +<p>“Then it disappeared, and after a while the +dogs came back, panting as hard as if they had run +forty miles. The man went back home and sat +by the fire and studied about it, and the more he +studied the worse he was troubled. He sat so +long without saying anything that his little boy +asked him what the matter was, but the man shook +his head, and said there were some things that +children ought not to know. The boy was fourteen +years old, and very small for his age, but +he had plenty of sense, and was very brave. He +told his mother that his father was in some deep +trouble, and begged her to find out what it was, +and tell him about it.</p> + +<p>“So the little boy’s mother set herself to work +to find out what was troubling her husband. +She pressed him so hard with questions that he +finally told her about his strange adventures while +out hunting. The wife was so frightened that +she begged her husband not to go hunting any +more, but to give up his dogs and attend to business +that was not so dangerous.</p> + +<p>“The man promised that he would hunt no +more raccoons or ’possums or foxes, but he said +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +he needed his dogs to hunt deer. The woman +told her son all that her husband had said to +her, and after that the little boy made it a habit +to go off in the woods and sit at the foot of a big +chestnut-tree, and wonder what it was that ran +before his father’s dogs.</p> + +<p>“Matters went on this way until finally one +day the man said he would go out and catch a +deer. He called his dogs, especially Old Top, the +oldest one of all. Top was a big hound, and hunted +nothing else but deer, and he was never known +to fail to run down and catch the deer he got after. +Old Top went along when he was called, but it +was very plain to the little boy, who was watching, +that he didn’t go willingly. Anyhow, Old Top +went, though he looked back at the little boy and +wagged his tail knowingly more than once.</p> + +<p>“Before the hunter got out of hearing, the +dogs struck a trail and pursued it in the direction +of the big woods beyond the creek. For +a long time the little boy listened to the dogs running. +Sometimes they seemed to come nearer, +and then they would go farther, and finally the +sound of their trailing died away altogether.</p> + +<p>“After waiting and listening for some time, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +the little boy went into the woods and sat at the +foot of the chestnut-tree. While he was sitting +there thinking, and watching the big black ants +chase each other up and down the tree, he heard +the bushes shake, and suddenly a little old man +appeared before him.</p> + +<p>“‘Heyday!’ said the little old man. ‘You +are too young to be thinking. Leave thoughts +for old people; you should be at play.’</p> + +<p>“‘But sometimes,’ replied the little boy, ‘children +have to think, too. It doesn’t make my +head ache to think.’</p> + +<p>“‘I see, I see!’ exclaimed the little old man; +‘your name is Three Wits. Three Wits, how are +you? I hope you are well. You ought to have +come here a little sooner. There is a famous +hunt going on in these woods. It passed here +awhile ago—a fool on a frightened horse and +seven crazy dogs galloping after Satan’s sister. +Oh, it is jolly! Stay where you are, Three Wits. +This famous hunt will pass this way again directly, +and you will have a plain view of it.’</p> + +<p>“After a while the little boy heard the dogs +coming, and presently he saw the strangest sight +his eyes had ever beheld. Going through the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +woods as swift as the wind, he saw a great white +Stag. On the back of the Stag, and holding to +its antlers, was an old woman. She was grinning +horribly, and her gray hair was streaming out behind +her like a ragged banner. The Stag, bearing +the old woman, rushed through the woods +and disappeared. Then came the dogs in full +cry, and after the dogs came the little boy’s +father, spurring his horse and yelling in the excitement +of the chase.</p> + +<p>“‘What do you think of it, Three Wits?’ +asked the little old man, laughing.</p> + +<p>“‘I don’t like it,’ replied the boy. ‘That man +is my father.’</p> + +<p>“‘Your father!’ cried the little old man. +‘Oho! That alters the case. Well, well! Let’s +see—let’s see!’</p> + +<p>“The little old man took from the wallet he +had on his back a thick book with a red cover. +Then he sat at the foot of the chestnut-tree and +turned the well-thumbed leaves until he found the +place he was hunting for. He closed the book, +but kept his forefinger between the leaves, and +took the little boy’s hand in his.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;"> +<a name="OLD_MAN_THREE_WITS_AND_STAG" id="OLD_MAN_THREE_WITS_AND_STAG"></a> +<img src="images/lmt29.jpg" width="407" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LITTLE OLD MAN, THREE WITS, AND THE STAG</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVI.</h2> + +<h2>THE THREE IVORY BOBBINS.</h2> + + +<p>“The little old man took the boy’s hand in his, +but before he could say anything, a rustling was +heard in the bushes. Presently, Old Top, the deerhound, +made his appearance. He went up to the +boy, smelt of him, wagged his tail as a sign of +satisfaction, and then curled up in the leaves as +if to take a nap. But he didn’t go to sleep. +Every once in awhile, Old Top raised his head +and listened wistfully to the running dogs that +could be heard in the distance.</p> + +<p>“‘A very sensible dog!’ exclaimed the little +old man. ‘He knows something is wrong.’</p> + +<p>“‘What is it?’ asked the boy.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, Three Wits,’ said the little old man, +‘I’ll tell you. The man, the horse, and the dogs, +are under a spell. They are bewitched, and they +will continue to be bewitched until doomsday, +unless the spell is broken. They will go round +and round on the trail until they exhaust +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +themselves, and then they will gradually grow thinner +and thinner until they disappear; and then nothing +will be heard but the barking of the dogs, +and the sound of that will grow fainter and +fainter, until no human ear can hear it. Now, +the question is, Three Wits, do you wish the spell +broken?’</p> + +<p>“‘I do,’ replied the boy, ‘for my mother’s +sake.’</p> + +<p>“‘Now that is well spoken,’ said the old man, +rising and laying his hand gently on the boy’s +head. ‘For, behold, Three Wits, what is written +in the book.’</p> + +<p>“The old man opened the red volume and read +as follows, pointing to each word with his finger:—</p> + +<p>“‘Whoever shall, for the sake of his mother, +earnestly desire to break the spells worked by +Paggia Paggiola, the Hunting-Witch, is in a way +to have his desire fulfilled. For this is the indispensable +condition. Moreover, he who hopes to +succeed must have the innocence of youth and +the courage of manhood. On his left arm there +should grow a mole, and in this mole are three +white hairs.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +“‘I have the mole,’ said the boy, opening his +vest.</p> + +<p>“Sure enough, there was the mole, and on the +mole were growing three long white hairs as fine +as silk. With a pair of silver tweezers that he +found in his wallet, the little old man pulled the +long white hairs from the mole. One by one he +pulled them. One by one he ran them through +his fingers, and one by one they seemed to grow +longer and stronger, each time they were pulled +through the little old man’s swift-moving fingers.</p> + +<p>“Then, searching in his wallet, he found three +ivory bobbins; and on these he wound the long, +strong, and silken hairs. He wound and wound, +and as he wound he sang:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Now on this bobbin I wind a hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">White, and silken, and long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wind it slow, I wind it fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glossy, and white, and strong.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘I wind it here in shade and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For one, one, one are three—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three and no more where the stag shall run,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Close by the chestnut-tree.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘And one shall catch, and two shall hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And three shall clamp and kill;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Just say to your hand, Be steady and bold;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And say to your heart, I will.’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“The boy was surprised to see, as the old man +sang and wound, that the white hairs spun out +into silver wires hundreds of feet long, and +stronger than steel.</p> + +<p>“‘Take these, Three Wits,’ said the old man, +after he had finished winding the bobbins. ‘Take +these, and when the hunt runs this way again, +fling one at the Stag, and one at the dogs, and +one at the horse the huntsman rides. You must +fling them quickly, one after the other. It is +easy enough to miss the Stag, but you must not +fail to catch the dogs. You may fail on the Stag +and horse, but you must not fail on the dogs. +Be strong. Brace yourself for three quick and +hard throws.’</p> + +<p>“Then they stood there listening; and presently +Old Top, the deerhound, raised his head and +whistled through his nose, the whistle ending in +a whine.</p> + +<p>“‘They are coming now, Three Wits!’ exclaimed +the little old man. ‘Get ready! Throw +quick and hard! Don’t be afraid!’</p> + +<p>“In the distance, the baying of the dogs could +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +be heard, and Old Top rose and shook himself +and growled. In another moment the Stag, +ridden by the grinning old woman, flitted past; +but, quick as a flash, Three Wits threw the first +bobbin, and he threw it so hard that it made a +zooning sound in the air. The Stag made one +tremendous bound and disappeared. The dogs +came next, and Three Wits threw the second bobbin. +It zooned through the air, and the silver +wire unwound with a twanging sound, and fell +full upon the panting and baying pack. It fell +upon them, and wound itself about them, and +smothered their cries, and held them fast in its +glistening meshes.</p> + +<p>“Then came the rushing horse and its furious +rider. Three Wits threw the third bobbin, but the +horse shied at the motion of the boy’s hand, and +flew through the woods in the direction taken by +the Stag. When Three Wits saw both the Stag +and the horse escape, he fell upon the ground +and began to weep.</p> + +<p>“‘Hity-tity!’ exclaimed the little old man, +coming from behind the tree where he had +concealed himself. ‘What’s this? Why, I was +about to cry “Bravo!” and here I find you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +pretending to be a baby. Get up. If I am not +mistaken you have accomplished even more than +I expected you would. Let’s see.’</p> + +<p>“He lifted Three Wits to his feet, and then the +two went to where the hunt had passed. At one +point the dogs were entangled in the silver wire, +and were unable to free themselves. A little +farther in, they found a thick wisp of gray hair +which the wire had cut from the head of the +grinning old woman who rode the Stag. The +little old man clapped his hands with delight and +cut some joyful capers, for he was very nimble.</p> + +<p>“‘Good!’ he exclaimed. ‘Another half inch +and you would have cut off her head instead +of her hair! But where is the bobbin? I don’t +see the bobbin! We must have the bobbin!’</p> + +<p>“Three Wits hunted, but he could find no +bobbin. Then he caught hold of the wire, and +found that it led into the woods the way the Stag +had gone. He caught hold of it and followed it +along, calling to the little old man. They followed +the silver wire far into the woods, and +finally they came to the end of it, and there was +the Stag, strangled and dead. The weight of the +bobbin had carried the wire around his body +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +and around his neck, and the bobbin itself had +caught in the fork of one of his antlers.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 378px;"> +<a name="STAG_AND_WITCH" id="STAG_AND_WITCH"></a> +<img src="images/lmt30.jpg" width="378" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE STAG AND THE WITCH</span> +</div> + +<p>“The little old man seemed to be very happy. +He patted Three Wits on the shoulder, and declared +that he was a good boy, a fine boy. ‘But +there is more to be done,’ said the little old man,—‘a +great deal more. And you will have to go +alone. I can help you, but I can’t be with you.’</p> + +<p>“Then he found the ivory bobbins, rewound +the silver wire, which seemed to spin out still +longer, and gave them to Three Wits. ‘Take +these,’ he said, ‘and go to the witch’s house.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do you mean Peggy Pig-Eye’s house?’ asked +Three Wits.</p> + +<p>“‘Why, of course.’ replied the little old man. +‘Her right name, as you saw by the book, is +Paggia Paggiola, but people call her Peggy +Pig-Eye for short. Go to her house, throw one +of the bobbins over the roof, and then throw +one around each end. Throw quick and hard, +and, as you throw, cry out,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Bibbity bobbity bobbin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go hibbity hob hobnobbin.’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“‘But wait!’ cried the little old man. ‘You +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +may need these dogs.’ He took a wisp of the +witch’s hair, and whipped them back to life. +And maybe you’ll need a horse to ride. So he +went into the woods where the Stag lay dead, and +whipped him to his feet with the witch’s hair.</p> + +<p>“‘This is your horse,’ he said to Three Wits. +But the boy was afraid to mount the Stag. ‘Be +bold!’ cried the little old man; ‘all depends on +that! Give me your foot. There you are! Loop +the silver wire over his horns, and touch him +with the bobbin the way you want him to go. +He’ll carry you safely. Good-by! Be bold!’</p> + +<p>“Following the little old man’s directions, +Three Wits was soon cantering down the road on +the Stag’s back. The dogs seemed to take everything +for granted, and followed along after the +Stag as readily as if he had been their master’s +horse. But travelers who chanced to be going +along the road went into the wood when they +saw a boy riding a big Stag. They were not +used to such a queer sight.</p> + +<p>“The spirits of Three Wits rose as he went +along. Everything had turned out so happily, +and the Stag moved along so gracefully and +easily that Three Wits felt quite like a hero.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +“He went ambling along the road, the people +staring at him, until he came to the witch’s house. +Everything was quiet there. The windows and +doors were closed, and the only sign of life about +the place was a big black cat that sat on the +water-shelf. Three Wits rode the Stag around the +house three times. Then over the roof he threw +a bobbin. To the right he threw another, and to +the left another. The silver wire seemed to whirl +until it became a tangle of wire all over the house. +The big black cat made an attempt to escape, but +it was caught in the wire as a fly is caught in a +spider’s web, and it hung helpless by the water-shelf.</p> + +<p>“And then a very wonderful thing happened. +The silver wire seemed to become so heavy that +the roof of the house couldn’t bear its weight. +The cabin swayed, and finally the roof fell in +with a crash. Out of the dust and wreck walked +the father of Three Wits, leading his horse, and, +following him, came a dozen or more elegantly +dressed gentlemen whom Three Wits had never +seen before. They shook hands with the boy and +thanked him for coming to their rescue, and each +gave him a large sum of gold, so that when they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +started on their way home, Three Wits found that +he was very rich. As for the father, he seized +Three Wits in his arms and embraced him again +and again, and declared that even a king might +be proud to have such a brave son.</p> + +<p>“While they were talking, the little old man +came out of the wood. He went straight to +Three Wits, placed his hand on the boy’s head, +and seemed to be blessing him. Then he lifted +Three Wits from the Stag’s back, mounted in his +place, waved his hand twice, and, in a twinkling, +had disappeared in the wood. That was the end +of the witch, and this is the end of the story.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think it is a very good story,” said +Buster John.</p> + +<p>“I think so, too,” remarked Sweetest Susan; +“but I’m sorry there was no little girl in it.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVII.</h2> + +<h2>“KEEN-POINT,” “COB-HANDLE,” AND “BUTCH.”</h2> + + +<p>“The three bobbins,” said Mrs. Meadows, “remind +me of a circumstance—”</p> + +<p>“Is a circumstance a story?” interrupted +Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you mustn’t mind my country talk,” replied +Mrs. Meadows, laughing. “It was a trick +of my tongue. I didn’t want to say ‘story’ because +you might be disappointed. But I reckon +I may as well call it a story. Well, as I was saying, +the three bobbins remind me of a story that +was partly about a little girl.”</p> + +<p>“I know it must be a nice story,” cried Sweetest +Susan enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Meadows shook her head. “From +all I can hear,” she said, “matters and things in +general are a great deal nicer in books than they +are outside of books. Folks are folks, anyway +you can fix them, I don’t care what the books +say. But I’ll not deny that in my day and time +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +I have seen folks mighty near as nice and as +pretty as those you read about in the books, and +one of these was the little girl I am going to tell +you about.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time, in the country where I +then lived,—and I’ve lived in a good many countries, +for wherever you find mountains, hills, and +rivers, there you’ll find the Meadows family,—there +was a little girl who was both beautiful and +good. She was not as good nor as beautiful as +those you read about in the books, but she was +good enough for the people who knew her. For +a wonder she didn’t have long golden hair. Her +hair was black, and curled about her head in the +loveliest way; and her eyes were large and brown, +and her skin creamy white, with just the shadow +of rose color in her face. Her parents were rich +and proud, but they were prouder of their little +girl than they were of their money, as well they +might be, seeing that she was the smartest and +most beautiful child to be found in all the country +round.”</p> + +<p>“Were there no princes and castles in that +country?” inquired Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, no!” replied Mrs. Meadows. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +“The folks were just plain, common, every-day +people. Those that were fortunate enough to +be honest and contented were much better off +than any princes you ever heard of; and a hut +where happiness lives is a much finer place than +the finest castle.</p> + +<p>“Well, as I was telling you, the parents of +this little girl with black curly hair were very +proud of her. They watched over her very carefully, +and neglected nothing that would make her +happy and contented. Some little girls that I +have known would have been spoiled by so much +kindness and attention, but this little girl with the +black curly hair wasn’t spoiled at all. She was +as good as she was beautiful.</p> + +<p>“One day, when this little girl was walking +in the flower garden, she heard the gardener +talking to his wife through the iron fence. The +woman’s voice was so pleasant and her laugh so +cheerful that the little girl ran to the fence and +peeped through to see who it was. The gardener’s +wife saw her, and at once began to pet her and +make much of her. The little girl wanted the +woman to come into the garden, and seemed to +be so much in earnest about it that the woman +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +promised she would come and be the child’s nurse +some day.</p> + +<p>“No sooner had the gardener’s wife gone about +her business than the little girl ran and told her +mother that she must have a nurse. At first her +mother paid little attention to her, thinking that +it was the passing whim of a child, but the little +girl insisted, until finally her mother said:—</p> + +<p>“‘Who shall be your nurse? You know, my +dear, that you can’t have everybody and anybody?’</p> + +<p>“‘Ask the gardener,’ the little girl replied. +‘He knows.’</p> + +<p>“‘And how does he know?’ the mother asked.</p> + +<p>“‘I saw him talking with her,’ the little girl +replied.</p> + +<p>“So, after a time, the gardener was called, and +then it was found that his wife was the person the +little girl had selected to be her nurse. The father +and mother hesitated for some time before +they would consent to send for the woman, but +finally she came, and they were so much struck +by her pleasant manners and cheerful disposition +that they were quite willing to employ her.</p> + +<p>“For a long time after that the little girl and her +nurse were never separated except when the nurse +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +would go home to see her husband and her son, +who was a handsome boy about fourteen years old. +The little girl used to grieve so when her nurse +left her that on one occasion, when the woman was +going home for only an hour or so, she carried +the child with her. There the little girl saw the +handsome son of her nurse, and they were both +very much pleased with each other. In the little +time she stayed, the boy showed her a hundred +new games, and told her a great many stories she +had never heard before.”</p> + +<p>“How old was the little girl?” Mr. Thimblefinger +inquired.</p> + +<p>“Between seven and eight,” replied Mrs. +Meadows “Just old enough to be cute. Well, +in the little time they were together the boy and +girl grew to be very fond of each other. The +boy thought she was the daintiest and prettiest +creature he had ever seen, and the little girl +thought the boy was all that a boy should be.</p> + +<p>“Of course, when the little girl went back +home again she talked of nothing else but the +boy who had proved to be such a wonderful playmate. +This set the child’s mother to thinking, +and she made up her mind that it wouldn’t do +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +for these children to see so much of each other. +So she sent for the nurse and told her very kindly +that she didn’t think it would be prudent to carry +the little girl to her house any more.</p> + +<p>“The nurse agreed with the little girl’s mother, +but somehow she didn’t relish the idea that her +brave and handsome son wasn’t good enough to +play with anybody’s daughter. She thought the +matter over for several days, and finally decided +that it would be better to give up her place as +nurse. She was very fond of the little girl, but +she was still fonder of her boy. So she ceased +to be the child’s nurse, and went to her own home.</p> + +<p>“The little girl grieved day and night for +her kind nurse. Nothing would console her. Her +mother bought her a little pony, but she wouldn’t +ride it; wonderful dolls, but she wouldn’t look +at them; the finest cakes and candies, but she +wouldn’t eat them; the most beautiful dresses, +but she wouldn’t wear them. Matters went on in +this way for I don’t know how long, until, finally, +one day the little girl’s mother concluded to send +for the nurse.</p> + +<p>“Now it happened that on that particular day +the little girl had made up her mind to go after +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +her nurse. One day in each week, the gardener +would open the big gates of the park in order to +trundle away the trash and weeds that he had +raked up. The little girl watched him open the +gate, and then, when the gardener went for his +wheelbarrow, she slipped out at the gate and +went running across the fields.</p> + +<p>“For a time the little girl was perfectly happy. +She gave herself up to the pleasure of being +alone, of being able to do as she chose, with no +one to tell her not to do this or do that, or to +say ‘come here,’ or ‘go yonder.’ So she went +running across the fields, looking at the birds, and +trying to catch butterflies, and singing to herself +some of the beautiful songs that her nurse’s son +had taught her.</p> + +<p>“Now it happened that when she ran out of +the garden gate, in her haste to keep out of sight +of the gardener, she went away from her nurse’s +house instead of going towards it. She had been +kept so closely at home that she had no idea of +the great world beyond the garden gate. She +thought that all she had to do to get to her dear +nurse’s house was to go out at the gate and keep +on going until she came to the place where there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +were two big trees, with a swing between them, +and a little white house on the other side.</p> + +<p>“So she went on her way, singing and skipping. +When she grew tired she sat down to rest. +When she grew thirsty she drank of the clear, +cold water that ran through the fields. When +she became hungry, she ate the berries that grew +along the way. She was perfectly satisfied that +she would soon come to her nurse’s house. But +the sun doesn’t stop for grown people, much +less for children, and the little girl soon found +that night was coming on. The only thought she +had was that her nurse’s house had been moved +farther away, and that by going straight ahead +she would find it after a while.</p> + +<p>“So she trudged along. When the sun was +nearly down she saw an old man sitting in the +shade of a tree. The little girl went straight +towards him, made him a curtsey, as she had been +taught to do, and said:—</p> + +<p>“‘Please, sir, where is my nurse’s house?’</p> + +<p>“The old man raised his head and glanced all +around. ‘I see no nurse’s house,’ he replied.</p> + +<p>“Then, after a little while the old man said: +‘My dear, give me a drink of water.’</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;"> +<a name="LITTLE_GIRL_AND_OLD_MAN" id="LITTLE_GIRL_AND_OLD_MAN"></a> +<img src="images/lmt31.jpg" width="360" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE OLD MAN</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +“The little girl looked all around. ‘I see no +water,’ she replied.</p> + +<p>“‘Well said, well said!’ exclaimed the old man. +‘You are very bright and very beautiful, therefore +I’ll give you some advice. There is a spring +by yonder tree, but you must not drink the +water. There is a pomegranate-tree growing by +the spring, but you must eat none of the fruit.’</p> + +<p>“Having said this, the old man slung his wallet +over his back and went on his way. The little +girl went to the spring and looked at the water. +Then she looked at the beautiful red fruit growing +on the pomegranate-tree. She was very +thirsty, very hungry, and very tired. She thought +to herself that the old man was very mean and +stingy. ‘He’s afraid I’ll muddy the water,’ she +said, ‘and he wants all the pomegranates for +himself.’</p> + +<p>“Then she drank from the spring, and the +water was very sweet and cool. She ate the fruit +of the pomegranate-tree, and it was delicious. +Then being tired, she stretched herself out on the +grass and was soon sound asleep.</p> + +<p>“Now it so happened,” continued Mrs. +Meadows, pretending to examine the stitches in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +Sweetest Susan’s frock “that the spring and +the pomegranate-tree were under a spell. They +belonged to an old Conjurer who lived in a cave +close by. In this cave he had a large bowl +of water on a shelf, and near it, growing in a +box, was a little pomegranate-bush. Whenever +anybody drank from the spring, the water in +the bowl would shake and tremble and become +muddy; and whenever a pomegranate was pulled +from the big bush by the spring, the little bush +in the Conjurer’s cave would bend and wave its +limbs as if a gale were blowing.</p> + +<p>“All this occurred when the little girl drank +from the spring and pulled and ate one of the +pomegranates; and by the time she was sound +asleep, the Conjurer had come out of his cave and +discovered her. He waited a little while, and +then took the child and carried her to his cave, +and it was many a long day before anybody, +except the Conjurer himself, saw her again.”</p> + +<p>At this point Mrs. Meadows paused.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2>XVIII.</h2> + +<h2>MRS. MEADOWS RESUMES HER STORY.</h2> + + +<p>The pause was occasioned by Mr. Rabbit. +He had fallen into a doze while Mrs. Meadows +was telling her story, and just as she came to the +point where the Conjurer had lifted the little girl +in his arms and carried her into his cave, Mr. +Rabbit had dreamed that he was falling. His +chair was tilted back a little, and he made such +a mighty effort to keep himself from falling in +his dream that he lost his balance and went over +sure enough.</p> + +<p>“I declare!” he exclaimed. “I ought to be +ashamed of myself to be falling heels over head +this way without any reason in the world, and +right before company too. Wasn’t there something +in your story about falling?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word!” replied Mrs. Meadows firmly.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. +“I’ll try and keep my eyes open hereafter.”</p> + +<p>The children tried their best to keep from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +laughing at Mr. Rabbit’s predicament, but Drusilla +was finally compelled to give way to her +desire, and then they all joined in, even Mr. +Rabbit smiling somewhat grimly.</p> + +<p>“Let me see,” said Mrs. Meadows, after a +while; “the last we heard of the little girl I was +telling you about, the Conjurer had carried her +into his cave?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Sweetest Susan; “and now +I want to know what became of her.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “the shortest +way to tell you that is the best way. It happened +that on the very day the little girl ran +away to visit her nurse, the nurse had concluded +to visit the little girl. So she put on her best +things and went to the little girl’s home. When +the woman came to the garden she saw the gate +open, and presently her husband, the gardener, +came out trundling a load of weeds and trash +in his wheelbarrow. She asked about the little +girl.</p> + +<p>“‘She was playing under the trees yonder +awhile ago,’ said the man. ‘I haven’t seen her +since.’</p> + +<p>“The woman went into the garden and searched +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +among the trees and arbors, but no little girl +could she find.</p> + +<p>“‘Having come so far,’ she said to herself, +‘I’ll not go back without seeing the precious +little creature.’ So she went towards the house, +searching for the child. She inquired of every +servant she met where the little girl was, and +finally went into the house searching for her. +At last she came to the room where sat her former +mistress. But the child was not there.</p> + +<p>“In a very short while there was a tremendous +uproar in the place. The maid servants and +the men servants went running about through +the house, through the yard, and through the +garden, calling the little girl. They hunted in +every hole and corner, and in every nook and +cranny, but the child was not to be found.</p> + +<p>“The kind-hearted nurse wept almost as bitterly +as the mother. ‘Oh, if I had been here,’ +she cried, ‘this would never have happened.’</p> + +<p>“The little girl’s father came in just in time +to hear this, and he immediately suspected that +the nurse had stolen his daughter and would +pretend to find her again in the hope of securing +a reward. He said nothing of his suspicions, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +but he determined to have the nurse closely +watched.</p> + +<p>“He was so firmly convinced that his suspicion +was correct that he treated his daughter’s disappearance +somewhat lightly, and this helped to +console the mother. When it became certain +that the little girl was not to be found in the +house or on the place, her father called one of +his trusty clerks (for he was a rich and powerful +merchant), and told him to disguise himself as a +peddler, go to the nurse’s house, and there discover, +if possible, where the nurse had bestowed +the child.</p> + +<p>“The clerk did as he was directed, but when +he arrived at the nurse’s house, disguised as a +peddler, he was surprised to find as much grief +under that humble roof as there was at his +master’s house. He knocked at the door and +inquired the cause of the trouble, hoping to discover +that the display of grief was a mere sham. +But he soon saw it was genuine. Both the +woman and her handsome son were weeping bitterly +over the disappearance of the little girl.</p> + +<p>“‘May I get a bite to eat?’ asked the peddler.</p> + +<p>“‘That you may!’ exclaimed the woman, ‘for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +we shall need nothing ourselves, until we hear +some news of that precious child.’ Then she +told the peddler about the strange disappearance +of the little girl she used to nurse, and the peddler, +in order to carry out his purpose, asked a +great many questions. When he was told that +the parents of the little girl were very rich he +laughed, and said that if they had plenty of +money they could get along very well without a +little girl, but this made the woman and her son +so angry that they were on the point of showing +the peddler the door. They were ready to dismiss +him with many hard words, when they heard +some one calling.</p> + +<p>“The son went into the yard, and found that +an old man had fallen not far from their gate and +was unable to rise. The woman went to help her +son bring the old man in, and while they were +gone the peddler took his leave without so much +as saying good-by.</p> + +<p>“With a good deal of trouble the old man +was brought into the house, and made comfortable, +but no sooner had he been placed upon the +woman’s bed than he leaped to his feet and stood +on the floor, laughing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +“‘I have fallen at a dozen doors to-day,’ he +cried, ‘and this is the first that has been opened +to me.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ replied the woman, ‘if we had known +you were playing pranks on us I don’t think this +door would have opened to you. We are having +too much trouble ourselves to pester with other +people’s troubles.’</p> + +<p>“Then she went on to tell of the disappearance +of the little girl she used to nurse. The old man +tried to get in a word of consolation, now and +then, but the woman talked too fast for that. +But presently she had told about all she had to +tell.</p> + +<p>“‘See how it turns out!’ cried the old man. +‘How can it be accident that brings to your door +the only person in the world that can give you +any tidings of the little girl? I saw a child to-day +some miles from here who asked me to show +her her nurse’s house.’</p> + +<p>“‘Bless her dear little heart!’ exclaimed the +woman.</p> + +<p>“‘But she was in great danger,’ said the old +man. ‘She was just about to enter the domain +of Rimrak.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +“‘Ah, why didn’t you bring her away with +you?’ cried the woman.</p> + +<p>“‘It is not permitted,’ replied the old man. +‘I did what I could. I warned her not to drink +of the waters of the spring nor to eat of the +pomegranate-seed. I could do no more.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, what will become of the dear child?’ +exclaimed the woman, wringing her hands.</p> + +<p>“‘If she drinks of the waters of the spring,’ +responded the old man, ‘or eats of the pomegranate-seed, +she will fall into a deep sleep. Then +will come Rimrak, the Conjurer, and convey her +to his cave, and there she will be held captive +until she forgets she is a captive, or until she has +been rescued by some bold youth who loves her +well enough to remember the color of her eyes.’</p> + +<p>“‘I remember! I remember!’ cried the woman’s +handsome son.</p> + +<p>“‘Be not too sure,’ replied the old man. ‘Sit +down and think it over.’</p> + +<p>“‘No need for that,’ said the boy. ‘Her eyes +once seen can never be forgotten.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oho!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Then perhaps +you can tell me the color of the little girl’s +eyes?’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +“‘Certainly,’ said the boy. ‘They are brown +when she lifts them to your face and dark when +she looks away from you.’</p> + +<p>“The old man nodded his head with a greater +display of good humor than he had yet shown.</p> + +<p>“‘Ah, you think so,’ said the old man, warningly; +‘you think you know, but be not too +sure.’</p> + +<p>“‘Why, I can see her now!’ exclaimed the +boy.</p> + +<p>“‘Where?’ cried his mother; ‘oh, where?’</p> + +<p>“The boy fell back in his seat and covered his +face with his hands.</p> + +<p>“‘He was speaking of his memory,’ said the +old man. ‘If he can trust it, well and good.’</p> + +<p>“‘You should have brought the child home +with you,’ said the matter-of-fact woman.</p> + +<p>“‘It was not in my power,’ replied the old +man. ‘She had gone too far. She had already +entered the domain of Rimrak, the Conjurer. +All that I could do I did. I warned her not to +drink of the waters of the spring. I warned her +not to eat of the seed of the pomegranate. But +now that I am here, let us see what can be +done.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +“He went to his wallet, which he had placed +on the table, opened it and took from it three +knives. One was a clasp-knife with a long, slim +blade, the next was a common case-knife, and the +third was a big butcher’s-knife. The case-knife +had once had a horn or wooden handle, but this +had dropped off, and the iron that held the knife +in place had been run into a corncob. The old +man took these knives from his wallet, one by +one, and placed them on the table.</p> + +<p>“‘Now listen to me,’ he said to the boy. ‘All +will go well with you if you are bold, and if you +really remember the color of the little girl’s eyes. +Here are your arms. This,’ taking up the clasp-knife, +‘is Keen-Point. This,’ taking up the case-knife, +‘is Cob-Handle. And this is Butch. Remember +their names,—Keen-Point, Cob-Handle, +and Butch. Keen-Point is to show you the way, +Cob-Handle is to warn you of danger, and Butch +is to protect you. But they will all fail you—they +will all go wrong—if you do not remember +the color of the little girl’s eyes.’</p> + +<p>“The boy took Keen-Point, Cob-Handle, and +Butch, and stowed them away in a wallet, in +which his mother placed a supply of food. Then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +he set out on his journey, with a light heart. +He was not afraid, for he knew that he loved the +little girl well enough to remember the color of +her eyes. He went on his way till he came to the +open fields where no one lived. He had been +there many a time before, but now it seemed to +him that he had never seen so many paths and +by-ways. They led in all directions and crossed +each other almost at every turn.</p> + +<p>“He stopped and looked all around, and then +he took Keen-Point from his wallet, and said:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Keen-Point can, Keen-Point may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Point keen and true, and show me the way.’<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“As soon as he said this, the knife tumbled +from his hand and fell to the ground, the end +of the keen blade pointing towards one of the +many footpaths. The boy picked it up, and it +tumbled from his hand again, pointing in the +same direction. He picked it up the second +time, and again the knife fell from his hand and +pointed to the footpath. For the third time he +lifted the knife from the ground, and as it fell +no more, he placed it in his wallet, and went on +his way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +“Thus he continued for many hours. When +he was in doubt about the way, Keen-Point would +show him. When he grew hungry, he ate the +food his mother had placed in his wallet. It was +late in the day when he started, and before he +came to the spring and the pomegranate-tree, the +sun went down and night came on. The boy +stopped under a wide-spreading tree, said his prayers, +placed his wallet under his head for a pillow, +and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>“Bright and early the next morning he was +up and going. Whenever he had any doubt +about the way, Keen-Point would show him, and +before the sun was up very high, he came in sight +of the pomegranate-tree, with its red and golden +fruit, and he knew the spring was close by.</p> + +<p>“As he went on he grew thirstier, and thirstier, +and when he came to where the cool, clear waters +of the spring were bubbling from the ground with +a sort of gurgling sound, his throat and mouth +seemed to be as dry as paper. More than that, +when he came to the spring, a traveler was sitting +on one of the stones that lay around, drinking the +water from a silver cup and peeling the rind from +a pomegranate with a silver knife. The traveler +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +had a very pleasant face and manner, and he spoke +to the boy in the kindest way.</p> + +<p>“‘If you want some water,’ he said, ‘you may +drink from my silver cup. If you are hungry, +you may peel a pomegranate with my silver knife.’</p> + +<p>“The boy thanked the traveler and said that he +would eat and drink later in the day. He thought +to himself that a man who could drink from a +silver cup and eat with a silver knife ought to be +able to travel in a carriage or on horseback, but +there was no horse nor carriage in sight.</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ said the traveler, ‘if you will neither +eat nor drink, you can at least rest yourself.’</p> + +<p>“So the boy seated himself on one of the big +rocks close by the spring, and the traveler began +to ask him all sorts of questions. What was his +name, and where did he come from, and where +was he going.”</p> + +<p>“What <em>was</em> his name?” asked Sweetest Susan +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows, +“haven’t I told you his name?”</p> + +<p>“If you did, we didn’t hear you,” said Buster +John.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows raised her hands above her head +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +and let them fall helplessly in her lap. “I told +you I didn’t know how to tell stories!” she cried. +“You had fair warning. Well, well, well! And +I never even told you his name!” She paused +and stared at the children as if she wanted them +to pity her weakness. “To think that I should +forget to call his name! Everybody knew it in +my day and time, and they knew about his wonderful +adventures.</p> + +<p>“His name was Valentine, because he was born +on St. Valentine’s Day, and the little girl’s name +was Geraldine.</p> + +<p>“Well, the traveler asked Valentine all sorts +of questions, and tried hard to persuade him to +drink some of the water and eat the pomegranate-seed.</p> + +<p>“‘I have heard,’ said the traveler, ‘that all +this country around here is ruled by a cruel Conjurer, +and that he has power over all except those +who may chance to find this spring and this pomegranate-tree +in passing, and drink of the water +and eat of the fruit.’</p> + +<p>“But Valentine shook his head. He said he +would rather have milk than water any day, and +as for pomegranates, he had no taste for them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +“‘Then I would advise you to go no farther,’ +said the traveler. ‘If you fall into the hands of +the Conjurer, you will never escape.’</p> + +<p>“‘I have heard of this great Conjurer,’ replied +Valentine, ‘and I should like nothing better than +to see him.’</p> + +<p>“He took Keen-Point from his wallet and pretended +to be playing with it, letting it fall and +picking it up. The knife pointed beyond the +spring and the pomegranate-tree, and in a little +while Valentine went on his journey. On the +hill beyond the spring, he turned and looked +back, but the traveler had disappeared. As there +was no place where he could hide, Valentine concluded +that the man he had seen was no traveler +at all, but Rimrak, the Conjurer.</p> + +<p>“But he was not afraid. He went on his way, +and, after a little, came to a grove of the tallest +and biggest trees he had ever seen. As he was +passing through this grove, he suddenly saw two +tremendous spiders running about among the +trees before and behind him. Their bodies were +as big as a feather bed when it is rolled up, and +they were pretty much the same color. Valentine +watched their antics a few minutes, and soon +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +saw they were spinning a web among the trees +and that he was in the middle of it.</p> + +<p>“The big spiders ran about on the ground spinning +their webs around him, and then they began +to jump from tree to tree. Valentine began +to have a creepy feeling up and down his back, +for he didn’t relish the idea of being caught in +a spider’s web like a bluebottle fly. He wondered +why Cob-Handle hadn’t warned him of +the danger, and then he remembered that the +case-knife was wrapped so tightly in his wallet +that it couldn’t give a warning if it was to try. +So he took all the knives from the wallet,—Keen-Point, +Cob-Handle, and Butch,—and placed +them in his girdle.</p> + +<p>“Valentine hardly had time to fasten the +straps about the wallet, before he felt Cob-Handle +jumping about and thumping against his +side. Then he saw one of the big spiders coming +towards him. Big as it was it moved nimbly, +and before Valentine had time to get out of the +way, it ran around him and wrapped a strand of +its web about his legs. The strand was as big +as a stout twine and as strong and as hard as +wire. Then the big spider turned and came +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +back, but by this time Valentine had drawn +Butch from his belt, and as the ugly creature +came near he struck at it with the knife, and +cut off one of its hairy legs. The creature was +so full of life and venom that its leg jumped +around and clawed the ground for some little +time.</p> + +<p>“Holding Butch point down and edge outwards, +Valentine cut the strand of web that +held his legs. It was so large, and drawn so +tightly about him, that it sounded like somebody +had broken a fiddle-string. In this way he cut +his way through the web. The crippled spider +ran to his mate, and the two stood watching Valentine, +their eyes shining green and venomous, +and their jaws working as if they were chewing +something.”</p> + +<p>“They were sharpening their teeth,” Buster +John suggested.</p> + +<p>“I reckon so,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “Anyhow +they were ugly enough to scare anybody. +Valentine cut his way through the web and +marched out on the other side. He rested a little +and then went on his way; but he had not gone +far before Cob-Handle began to jump and thump +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +against his side. He stopped and looked around, +but he could see nothing. He listened, but he +could hear nothing.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<a name="VALENTINE_SLAYING_SPIDER" id="VALENTINE_SLAYING_SPIDER"></a> +<img src="images/lmt32.jpg" width="392" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">VALENTINE SLAYING THE SPIDER</span> +</div> + +<p>“Presently he felt the ground moving beneath +his feet, and he ran forward as fast as he could. +And he didn’t run too fast, either, for no sooner +had he jumped away than a great hole appeared +right where he had been standing. He could see +that it was both wide and deep, but he didn’t go +back to look at it.</p> + +<p>“No; he kept on his way, and it wasn’t long +before Cob-Handle began to jump and thump. +Keen-Point also began to jump and thump, and +showed him which way to go, and he ran as fast +as he could. He heard a roaring sound as he +started, and he had hardly got fifty steps away, +though he was running with all his might, before +a tremendous whirlwind came along, tearing up +the bushes by roots and ploughing the ground. +It came so close to Valentine that if he had +had on a long-tail coat, I believe it would have +been tangled in the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>“I tell you,” Mrs. Meadows went on, seeing +the children smiling, “it was no laughing +matter to Valentine. He shivered and trembled +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +when he thought what a narrow escape he had +had.</p> + +<p>“He went on his way, and in a little while +Cob-Handle began to jump and thump again. +Valentine, thus warned, stood still and looked +around more carefully than he had yet done. +Some distance off, he saw a horrible creature coming +towards him. It was in the shape of a man, +but it had four arms and hands, and in each hand +it was flourishing a club. Its hair stood out from +its head like the shucks in a scouring-mop, and +as it came nearer, Valentine saw that it had three +eyes,—one on each side of its nose, and one in +its forehead.</p> + +<p>“Keen-Point said, ‘Go straight forward,’ and +then Butch began to jump and thump, so Valentine +placed Cob-Handle and Keen-Point in his +girdle, and took Butch in his hand. Holding the +point straight before him, he went towards the +misshapen creature. Its red and watery eyes were +blinking and winking, and its arms were threshing +the air with the clubs at such a tremendous +rate that Valentine thought his hour had surely +come. But he shut his eyes and went straight at +the creature. The sharp point of Butch had no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +sooner touched the monster on its hairy breast +than its hands dropped the clubs, and it ran howling +back the way it came.</p> + +<p>“Valentine followed fast enough to see the +creature enter a cave, and to this, Keen-Point +told him he must go. As he went forward, a +fierce-looking man came from the cave and stood +guarding the entrance. He was covered from +head to foot with silver armor, and he brandished +a long keen sword with a silver handle. But +Valentine went straight forward, holding Butch +in his hand. The long sword never touched him, +nor did the silver armor stand in his way. With +one blow against Butch the long sword was shattered, +and the silver armor fell away from Rimrak +like the hulls from a ripe hickory-nut. Rimrak +himself fell before Butch and disappeared with +a hissing sound; and then the cave was no longer +dark. Its roof seemed to roll away; and where +the cave had been, there stood a great company +of people who had been held captive by the Conjurer. +They stood wondering what had happened +and what would happen next. Among them was +Geraldine. She knew Valentine, and ran to him, +and then he was very happy. The people whom +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +he had rescued, gathered around him and thanked +him and thanked him; and some would have rewarded +him, but he said he deserved none. He +had come after the little girl, and he was not responsible +for any accidents that happened to other +people. This is what he said, and this is how he +felt; but the people wondered that a young boy +should be so bold and yet so modest.</p> + +<p>“So they talked together, and decided to go +with him to his home. Their horses and their +carriages they found in good order, and in a little +while they formed a procession. In this way +they carried Valentine to his home, crying out +to the people they passed,—</p> + +<p>“‘This is our deliverer! This is the brave boy +that conquered Rimrak, the great Conjurer!’</p> + +<p>“They carried Valentine to his home, and then +they went with him to Geraldine’s home. There +was great rejoicing in the town. The little girl’s +father was rich, and he called all the people together; +and they had a big dinner, and everybody +was happy. The little girl had her old nurse +back, and she grew up to be a beautiful young +woman, and Valentine grew up to be a handsome +young man.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h2>XIX.</h2> + +<h2>A STORY OF THE RIVER.</h2> + + +<p>“I think that was a beautiful story,” said +Sweetest Susan, when Mrs. Meadows paused; +“but was that the end?”</p> + +<p>“Why, wasn’t that enough?” inquired Mr. +Rabbit sleepily. “What more could you ask? +Didn’t the boy and girl get back home where +they could get something to eat?”</p> + +<p>“What became of them?” asked Buster John. +“The stories about boys and girls in books say +they married and lived happily ever after.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” cried Mr. Thimblefinger. “I’ve +heard about it. I remember the poetry,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘They married, then, and lived in clover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when they died, they died all over.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “I thought surely +you’d get tired of Valentine and Geraldine by +the time they got back home, and so I thought +we’d do well to leave them there. Still, if you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +are not tired—” Mrs. Meadows paused and +looked at the children.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we are not tired,” protested Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “if that’s the +case, I’ll tell you what happened after Valentine +and Geraldine went back home. Of course, +Geraldine’s father and mother were very proud +and happy when their little girl was brought back +to them. They were very grateful to Valentine, +and they offered him money. But somehow Valentine +didn’t want their money. He said that +the pleasure of getting Geraldine out of the hands +of the wicked Conjurer was reward enough for +him, and so he shook his head and refused the +money that was offered him.</p> + +<p>“Now, the little girl’s father was rich and +prosperous, while Valentine was very poor, and +it was natural that the rich man should wonder +why the boy, who was poor, should refuse money. +Somehow, he took a dislike to Valentine. He +said to himself that a boy who would refuse +money as a free gift would never be prosperous.</p> + +<p>“As time went on, Valentine grew to be a +handsome young man, but he was still poor. He +went to see Geraldine sometimes, but as she grew +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +older, she grew shyer. Valentine couldn’t understand +this, but he thought it was because she was +old enough to know that she was rich and he +was poor.</p> + +<p>“He said to her one day. ‘You are not as +friendly as you used to be.’</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, yes I am,’ she replied. ‘I shall always +be friendly with you.’</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ said he, ‘you have changed.’</p> + +<p>“‘No more than you,’ was her answer.</p> + +<p>“‘I changed?’ he cried. ‘I love you more +than I ever did.’</p> + +<p>“With that Geraldine hung her head to +hide her blushes, but Valentine thought she was +angry. He turned on his heel and would have +gone away, but she called him back, and told him +not to go away angry—and then they made it up +somehow. Valentine said he would speak to Geraldine’s +father. This he did, but the father +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“‘You want to take her to a hut?’ he cried. +‘Why she might as well have stayed in the Conjurer’s +cave. Go and get you a fortune, and then +come back, and maybe we’ll talk the matter over.’</p> + +<p>“Valentine went away very sad. He never +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +turned his head, although Geraldine was watching +him from a window, ready to wave her hand and +throw him a kiss. He wandered off into the +woods until he came to the bank of the River, and +there he sat watching the water go by. He +watched it until he almost forgot his own trouble. +It went along slowly and majestically, and sometimes +it seemed to come eddying back to kiss the +bank at his feet. For a little while it smoothed +the wrinkles in his mind. He wondered where +the River came from and where it was going to. +It was always coming and always going, and there +was never an end to it. All day long it went by, +sometimes laughing and playing in the shallows +and sometimes sighing a little under the willows.</p> + +<p>“Valentine watched it and listened to the +pleasant sounds it made until he began to feel as +if the River was something like a friend and companion. +It soothed his grief and drove away his +loneliness. Being alone, he began to speak his +thoughts aloud.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh! I wish I had a friend as strong and as +powerful as the River!’ he cried.</p> + +<p>“‘And why not?’ he heard a voice say. The +water at his feet splashed a little louder. He +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +looked around, but saw no one; he listened, but +heard nothing.</p> + +<p>“‘I wonder who could have spoken?’ he said +aloud.</p> + +<p>“‘Who but your friend, the River?’ a Voice replied.</p> + +<p>“‘Please don’t mock me, whoever you are. +There is no fun in misfortune,’ said Valentine.</p> + +<p>“‘None at all’ responded the Voice. ‘I am +your friend the River. I will give you all the aid +in my power.’</p> + +<p>“‘How am I to know the River is talking?’ +Valentine asked.</p> + +<p>“‘By this,’ replied the River. At the word, a +wave larger than all the rest sprang up the bank, +and threw its spray in Valentine’s hair and face. +‘That is my salute,’ said the River. ‘It is a +rough way, but I know no other. Now, how can +I aid you?’</p> + +<p>“‘That is what troubles me,’ responded Valentine. +‘You are always going; you never stay.’</p> + +<p>“‘True,’ said the River; ‘but I am always +coming. Therefore I must be always returning.’</p> + +<p>“‘But how?’ Valentine asked.</p> + +<p>“‘Not this way,’ said the River, ‘but over +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +your head. When in the early morning, or in +the warmer noon, or in the pleasant evenings, you +see the white clouds flying westward, you may be +sure that I am returning.’ Then the River broke +into a thousand ripples, as if smiling.</p> + +<p>“But Valentine sat with a very serious face. +‘I do not know how you can aid me,’ he sighed.</p> + +<p>“‘I know what you wish,’ the River replied. +‘You wish riches.’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ said Valentine, ‘but not for the sake +of the riches themselves.’</p> + +<p>“‘Of course not!’ the River exclaimed. ‘Riches +would be worthless if they could not command +something better; and they are worse than worthless +when the power they give is used for evil. I +can give you riches, but not without your help. +I can give you the power to obtain wealth, but I +cannot give you the power to use it as it should +be used.’</p> + +<p>“Valentine listened to the mysterious Voice of +the River like one in a dream. He could hardly +believe his ears.</p> + +<p>“‘You say nothing,’ said the River; ‘you seem +half asleep. But if I am to help you, you must +help yourself. Walk by my side a little way. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +Further down you will come to a boat that has +drifted against the bank.’</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 340px;"> +<a name="VALENTINE_TALKING_TO_RIVER" id="VALENTINE_TALKING_TO_RIVER"></a> +<img src="images/lmt33.jpg" width="340" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">VALENTINE TALKING TO THE RIVER</span> +</div> + +<p>“Valentine rose and stretched himself, and +walked by the side of the River. He had not +gone far before he came upon a boat that had +drifted into an eddy. It lay there rocking, and +a long oar rested against the seat.</p> + +<p>“‘Jump in,’ said the River; ‘shove the boat +away from the bank and trust to me. Take the +oar and pull, and I will push you along.’</p> + +<p>“Valentine did as he was told, and he soon +found that the boat was gliding swiftly along. +The trees and houses on each side seemed to be +running a race to the rear, and the boats that he +passed on the River seemed to be standing still. +He went on for some hours, always trusting to +the River. When he grew tired, he held his oar +in the air and rested, but whether he rested or +whether he rowed, he saw that his boat was +always gliding swiftly along.</p> + +<p>“Presently, in the far distance, he could see +the spires and steeples of a city, and he wondered +whether he would be compelled to go gliding by, +or whether the River would land him there. But +he was not left long in doubt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +“‘That is your future home,’ said the River. +‘There you will find friends, and there you will +become rich and famous.’</p> + +<p>“‘But how?’ asked Valentine.</p> + +<p>“‘I can only tell you the beginning,’ replied the +River. ‘When your boat glides to the landing-place, +you will see there an old gentleman richly +dressed. He will ask you if you have seen his +little son. He has been there every day for two +days, and he has asked of all comers the same +question.’</p> + +<p>“‘What shall I say to him?’ asked Valentine.</p> + +<p>“‘Tell him you have not seen his son,’ replied +the River, ‘but that you feel sure you can find +the boy. Tell the old gentleman that you have +come a long journey, and need rest, but that when +you have refreshed yourself, you will go and seek +his son.’</p> + +<p>“‘But where shall I seek for the boy?’ asked +Valentine.</p> + +<p>“‘Come to me,’ said the River. ‘I will be here. +I am always going, and yet I am always coming.’</p> + +<p>“By this time they had come to the city. +‘Row for the landing,’ said the River; ‘your fortune +is there.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +“Valentine dipped his oar in the water and +rowed to the landing. He leaped from his boat, +threw the chain around a stake, and looked around. +Sure enough, an old gentleman, richly dressed, +was walking up and down, his hands crossed behind +him. When he saw Valentine he paused +and looked at him. Valentine bowed politely as +he had been taught to do.</p> + +<p>“‘You are a comely lad,’ said the old gentleman. +‘Did you come down the River, or from +below?’</p> + +<p>“‘I came down the River,’ replied Valentine, +touching his hat again.</p> + +<p>“‘I have lost my youngest son,’ said the old +gentleman. ‘He is a little boy about six years +old. He wandered from home two days ago, came +to the River landing, and was last seen playing in +a boat. I have been trying to find him. My +boats have been searching in all directions, but +the child cannot be found.’</p> + +<p>“‘I think I can find him,’ said Valentine, ‘but +first I must rest and refresh myself. I have come +a long journey, and I am tired.’</p> + +<p>“The old gentleman seized him by the hand. +‘Come with me!’ he exclaimed. ‘You shall go +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +to my house. Your every want shall be supplied. +If you succeed in finding my lost boy you shall +have whatever you ask for.’</p> + +<p>“‘I shall ask for nothing,’ replied Valentine. +‘The pleasure I shall have in restoring your son +to your arms will be sufficient reward for me.’</p> + +<p>“‘Nevertheless,’ said the gentleman, ‘you shall +have a more substantial reward than that.’</p> + +<p>“So he took Valentine home, and treated him +with the greatest kindness. He was served with +rich food and the finest spiced wines, and fitted +out with an elegant suit of clothes. Early the +next morning, Valentine thanked the gentleman +for his kindness.</p> + +<p>“‘I go now,’ he said, ‘to find your son. +Watch for me near the River. I may return +soon, or I may be gone long, but when I return +I will bring your son.’</p> + +<p>“‘You are young,’ remarked the gentleman. +‘You are hopeful and brave. You imagine you +can succeed where others have failed. But I +fear not. My lost boy has been sought by men +older than you, and quite as brave, but they have +not found him.’</p> + +<p>“‘Certainly, I may fail,’ Valentine replied. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +‘If I depended on myself alone, I know I would +fail. But I trust in Providence.’</p> + +<p>“Valentine and the gentleman then went to +the River—one to go in search of the lost child, +and the other to watch and wait for the return. +Valentine went to the water’s edge.</p> + +<p>“‘Get a boat with a sail,’ whispered the River, +lapping the sand at his feet. This was provided +at once, for the gentleman was very wealthy, and +then Valentine set out on his voyage. ‘Go back +the way you came,’ said the River, ‘but keep out +of the middle current. Let the wind fill your +sails and carry you near the shore, on the right.’ +With the River to direct him, Valentine sailed +along with a light heart and a happy mind. For +more than two hours he journeyed up the River, +and it was not until the sun was low in the west +that the River told him to lower the sails of his +boat. This done, the River carried his boat gently +ashore, and as it glided on the sand, he saw, +near by, a boat, in which a little boy lay fast +asleep. Without disturbing him, Valentine lifted +the little fellow in his arms, and transferred him +to the new boat, in which wraps, and cloaks, and +food had been placed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +“It was easy to guess how the little boy had +been lost. He had gone to play in a boat, which +broke loose from its fastenings, and drifted slowly +up the River in the eddies that play hide and +seek near the bank. The first day the searchers +searched for him, they went too far. The next +day they searched too near, and so the child +drifted and drifted, and was lost sure enough. +He was very cold and wet when Valentine found +him, but in a little while he was warmly wrapped +in the cloaks that had been provided.</p> + +<p>“‘Take his boat in tow,’ said the River. ‘Let +your sails stay down, and take the oars and row +home as hard as you can.’</p> + +<p>“The River helped with its swift current, and +it was not long before Valentine caught a glimpse +of the bonfire that was burning at the landing to +light him back to the city.</p> + +<p>“There was great rejoicing when Valentine returned +with the lost child. The bells were rung +and salutes fired from the big cannon that commanded +the approaches to the city. It turned +out that the gentleman whose child Valentine +had found was the ruler of the city, and you may +depend upon it he was grateful to the unknown +young man.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +“But in all large cities there are some envious +people, and these soon had it whispered about +that Valentine was a mere adventurer who had +stolen the child and hid it so that he might rescue +it again when a big reward was offered. These +whispers grew thicker and thicker until at last +they reached the ears of every one. No one knew +Valentine, and appearances were against him, but +one day he was approached by an old man with a +long white beard, who asked him from whence he +came. The old man was so kind and agreeable +in his manner that Valentine told him the story +of the rescue of Geraldine.</p> + +<p>“Much to his surprise the old man rose and +embraced him. ‘Come with me!’ he cried. +So saying, he carried Valentine to the marketplace, +and there in the presence of a great crowd +of people, the old man said:—</p> + +<p>“‘Behold my rescuer! Behold the brave youth +who conquered Rimrak, the Conjurer.’</p> + +<p>“This closed the mouths of the envious, and +when that happens, there is not much more to tell +in any story.”</p> + +<p>Here Mrs. Meadows paused and looked at Mr. +Rabbit, who sat fast asleep in his chair.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +“Did he get rich and marry Geraldine?” inquired +Sweetest Susan.</p> + +<p>“Why of course,” replied Mrs. Meadows. +“Do you reckon he’d have gone through all +these ups and downs if he wasn’t to marry and +settle down and be happy in the end?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Buster John, “it was a pretty +good story.”</p> + +<p>“I speck so,” remarked Drusilla, “but dey’s +lots too much richness in it fer me.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows laughed so heartily at this that +Mr. Rabbit was aroused from his nap, and looked +around in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Did I hear somebody say supper was ready?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meadows laughed again, but this time she +glanced at the sky of Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer +country. It had grown perceptibly darker. Mr. +Thimblefinger drew out his little watch. Mr. +Rabbit closed one eye, and sat as if listening for +something.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows with a sigh, “I +reckon we’ll have to tell you good-by for this +time, but I do hope you’ll come again. I declare +it has been a treat to have some new somebody to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +talk to. By the time you get back home the sun +will be setting in your country, and your folks +will begin to be uneasy about you.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;"> +<a name="BUSTER_JOHN_SHAKING_HANDS" id="BUSTER_JOHN_SHAKING_HANDS"></a> +<img src="images/lmt34.jpg" width="463" height="500" alt="" /> +<span class="caption">BUSTER JOHN SHAKING HANDS WITH MR. RABBIT</span> +</div> + +<p>The children were not at all anxious to go. +They had had a very curious experience in Mr. +Thimblefinger’s queer country, and they had +almost forgotten that the sun in their part of the +world had a habit of going down. But they said +they were ready, and then they shook hands all +around. When Buster John came to shake hands +with Mr. Rabbit, the latter looked at the youngster +a moment.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever happen to know a colored man +named Aaron?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Aaron!” exclaimed Buster John. +“Why, he lives on our plantation. He’s the +foreman.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit solemnly, “when you +see Aaron, take his left hand in both of yours, +bend his thumb back a little, and with your right +thumb make this mark <img src="images/symbol.png" alt="X with horizontal line through it"></img>. The first time he will +pay no attention. Make it the second time. +Then he will be ready to listen. Make it the +third time. Then he will ask you what you want. +Say to him that you want to learn the language +of the animals.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +“Won’t he get angry?” asked Buster John.</p> + +<p>“Try him,” replied Mr. Rabbit with a cunning +look. “Now, good-by!”</p> + +<p>“When you get ready to come again,” said +Mrs. Meadows, “just drop a big apple in the +spring, and I’ll be bound we’ll all see it and +know what it means. And when you come be +sure and bring the apple. It’s been a month of +Sundays since I’ve had one.”</p> + +<p>The children promised they would, and then, +with Mr. Thimblefinger leading the way, they +started home, which they reached without further +adventure. As they stood on the brink of the +spring, waving their hands to Mr. Thimblefinger, +who was smiling at them from the bottom, Drusilla +remarked with unction:—</p> + +<p>“I dunner how ’t is wid you all, but I don’t no +mo’ b’lieve we been down dar under dat water +dar dan—dan—dan de man in de moon. Dat +I don’t!”</p> + +<p>Then the youngsters heard the supper-bell ring, +and they all ran towards the house.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 353px;"> +<img src="images/lmt35.jpg" width="353" height="500" +alt="Back cover of the book" /> +</div> + + + + + +<div class="bbox"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.</p> + +<p>Some illustrations have been moved slightly so that they are not mid-paragraph.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer +Country, by Joel Chandler Harris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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