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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls
+
+Author: Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+Illustrator: Maud Petersham and Miska Petersham
+
+Release Date: December 11, 2010 [eBook #34618]
+[Most recently updated: February 13, 2022]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: The Online Distributed Proofreaders
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FOUR UNUSUAL STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+    TWENTY-FOUR
+    UNUSUAL STORIES
+
+    FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
+
+
+    ARRANGED AND RETOLD
+
+    BY
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER
+
+    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+    MAUD AND MISKA PETERSHAM
+
+    NEW YORK
+
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
+
+    1921
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+    PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.
+
+    THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
+
+    RAHWAY. N. J.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO
+    HAVE ENJOYED THESE TALES
+
+    AND HAVE BEEN THE INSPIRATION
+    OF THE STORY-TELLER,
+    THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+It has been suggested that the boys and girls who have so often listened
+to these stories in the clubs and story-hours of the New York Public
+Library, might like to have a few of their favorites in one book; that
+other boys and girls might be interested in reading them; and that the
+story-teller, in search of stories for special occasions, might find
+this little volume useful.
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER.
+    1920
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+    THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE                                         1
+
+    _Jean de Bosschere_
+
+    "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO
+        BE RIGHT!"                                                     7
+
+    _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+    WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME                                            17
+
+    _Howard Pyle_
+
+    THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES                     31
+
+    _Rev. Jay T. Stocking_
+
+    KATCHA AND THE DEVIL                                              45
+
+    _Parker Fillmore_
+
+    THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN                                           59
+
+    _Cornelia Meigs_
+
+    WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME                                81
+
+    _Aldis Dunbar_
+
+    THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE                                  95
+
+    _Aunt Naomi_
+
+    THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END                                      107
+
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    WINGS                                                            115
+
+    _Fedor Sologub_
+
+            CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+    THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO                                             123
+
+    _Frances Browne_
+
+    THE EMPEROR'S VISION                                             155
+
+    _Selma Lagerlof_
+
+    THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP                                    167
+
+    _Ruth Sawyer Durand_
+
+    GREEK LEGENDS
+
+    THE CURSE OF ECHO                                                183
+    _Elsie Finnimore Buckley_
+
+    HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN                                   195
+    _Andrew Lang_
+
+    HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE
+    WATER OF LIFE                                                    213
+    _Julia Dragoumis_
+
+
+    AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+    THE FIRST CORN                                                   223
+    _George Bird Grinnell_
+
+    WAUKEWA'S EAGLE                                                  233
+    _James Buckham_
+
+
+    HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+    THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF                                        245
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN                                  277
+    _Enys Tregarthen_
+
+    MY GRANDFATHER HENDRY WATTY                                      285
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    CHILDE ROWLAND                                                   297
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    TAM O' SHANTER                                                   309
+    _Robert Burns_
+    (Prose Version by Anna Cogswell Tyler)
+
+    THE BOGGART                                                      325
+    _Ernest Rhys_
+
+[Illustration: THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE]
+
+
+
+
+THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE[1]
+
+
+ONCE when the Emperor Charles V was traveling in the country, he saw a
+convent, and in passing by a little door he read this strange
+inscription:
+
+"Here you live without a care."
+
+The Emperor was very surprised and could scarcely believe his eyes.
+
+"It seems to me an impossibility," he thought; "does some one really
+exist on earth who is free from care? As Emperor I am overwhelmed with
+troubles, while here in this convent, which is a little kingdom in
+itself, one would have nothing to worry about. I cannot believe it."
+
+Immediately on setting foot in the village inn, the Emperor sent the
+hostess to fetch the Abbot of this singular convent.
+
+You can imagine what a state of mind the latter was in when he heard he
+was summoned to the Emperor's presence.
+
+"What have I done to displease him?" he asked himself. On the way he
+examined his conscience over and over again, and he could think of no
+fault of which he was guilty. "I am in troubled waters; I must steer my
+way through," he said.
+
+When he was in the Emperor's presence, the latter expressed his
+astonishment of what he had read.
+
+The Abbot now knew why he had been summoned, and smiled. "Sir," said he,
+"does that astonish you? However, it is very simple; we eat, we drink,
+we sleep, and worry over nothing."
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot, that state of things must come to an end," said
+the Emperor, "and in order that you may have your share of trouble, I
+command you to bring me to-morrow the answers to the three following
+questions:
+
+"First, What is the depth of the sea?
+
+"Secondly, How many cows' tails would it take to measure the distance
+between the earth and the sun?
+
+"Thirdly, What am I thinking about?
+
+"Try to please me or I shall exact a penalty from you."
+
+On hearing these words, the Abbot returned to his convent with a heavy
+heart. From that moment he knew no peace. He cudgeled his brains as to
+what answer he could make to the Emperor.
+
+When the little bell of the abbey rang, summoning the monks to prayer in
+the chapel, the Abbot continued to pace his garden. He was so deep in
+thought that he was quite oblivious of what was taking place around him.
+Even if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he would not have noticed
+it.
+
+"What a horrible thing," he thought. "Is it possible that such a
+misfortune has overtaken me? I cannot possibly answer. Who can save the
+situation? Perhaps our shepherd could; he has a very lively imagination;
+but talk of the devil--"
+
+At that identical moment the shepherd appeared, leading his flock. He
+was very surprised to see the Abbot, who was always without a care,
+meditating in solitude.
+
+What could have happened?
+
+Without more ado he went to him, and asked him what was troubling him so
+deeply.
+
+"Yes, I deserve to be pitied," said the Abbot, and he told him what had
+happened.
+
+"Why are you tormenting yourself over a little thing like that?" the
+shepherd laughingly replied. "Leave it to me, and all will be well.
+To-morrow I will come here and dress myself in your robe, and I will
+turn the tables on him."
+
+At first the Abbot demurred, but in the end he yielded, and the matter
+was settled.
+
+The next day the shepherd went boldly to find the Emperor.
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot," the Emperor said with serenity, "have you found
+out the answers?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, sire."
+
+"Speak, I am listening."
+
+"Sire, the sea is as deep as a stone's throw.
+
+"To measure the distance between the earth and the sun, you only need
+one cow's tail, if it is long enough.
+
+"Do you wish to know, sire, what you are thinking? Well, at this moment,
+you think, sire, that the Abbot of the convent is in your presence, and
+it is only his shepherd."
+
+The Emperor laughed so heartily that if he has not stopped laughing he
+is laughing still.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: In _Christmas Tales of Flanders._ Illustrated and collected
+by Jean De Bosschere. Dodd, Mead & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+"WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"[2]
+
+
+I AM going to tell you a story that was told to me when I was a little
+one, and which I like better and better the oftener I think of it. For
+it is with stories as with some men and women, the older they grow, the
+pleasanter they grow, and that is delightful!
+
+Of course you have been into the country? Well, then, you must have seen
+a regularly poor old cottage. Moss and weeds spring up amid the thatch
+of the roof, a stork's nest decorates the chimney (the stork can never
+be dispensed with), the walls are aslant, the windows low (in fact, only
+one of them can be shut), the baking-oven projects forward, and an
+elder-bush leans over the gate, where you will see a tiny pond with a
+duck and ducklings in it, close under a knotted old willow-tree. Yes,
+and then there is a watch-dog that barks at every passer-by.
+
+Just such a poor little cottage as this was the one in my story, and in
+it dwelt a husband and wife. Few as their possessions were, one of them
+they could do without, and that was a horse, that used to graze in the
+ditch beside the highroad. The good-man rode on it to town, he lent it
+to his neighbors, and received slight services from them in return, but
+still it would be more profitable to sell the horse, or else exchange it
+for something they could make of more frequent use. But which should
+they do? sell, or exchange?
+
+"Why, you will find out what is best, good-man," said the wife. "Isn't
+this market-day? Come, ride off to the town--get money, or what you can
+for the horse--whatever you do is sure to be right. Make haste for the
+market!"
+
+So she tied on his neckerchief--for that was a matter she understood
+better than he--she tied it with a double knot, and made him look quite
+spruce; she dusted his hat with the palm of her hand; and she kissed him
+and sent him off, riding the horse that was to be either sold or
+bartered. Of course, he would know what to do.
+
+The sun was hot, and not a cloud in the sky. The road was dusty, and
+such a crowd of folk passed on their way to market. Some in wagons, some
+on horseback, some on their own legs. A fierce sun and no shade all the
+way.
+
+A man came driving a cow--as pretty a cow as could be. "That creature
+must give beautiful milk," thought the peasant; "it would not be a bad
+bargain if I got that. I say, you fellow with the cow!" he began aloud:
+"let's have some talk together. Look you, a horse, I believe, costs more
+than a cow, but it is all the same to me, as I have more use for a
+cow--shall we make an exchange?"
+
+"To be sure!" was the answer, and the bargain was made.
+
+The good-man might just as well now turn back homeward--he had finished
+his business. But he had made up his mind to go to market, so to market
+he must go, if only to look on, so, with his cow, he continued on his
+way. He trudged fast, so did the cow, and soon they overtook a man who
+was leading a sheep--a sheep in good condition, well clothed with wool.
+
+"I should very much like to have that!" said the peasant. "It would find
+pasture enough by our road-side, and in winter we might take it into our
+own room. And really it would be more reasonable for us to be keeping a
+sheep than a cow. Shall we exchange?"
+
+Yes, the man who owned the sheep was quite willing; so the exchange was
+made, and the good-man now went on with his sheep. Presently there
+passed him a man with a big goose under his arm.
+
+"Well, you have got a heavy fellow there!" quoth the peasant. "Feathers
+and fat in plenty! How nicely we could tie her up near our little pond,
+and it would be something for the good-wife to gather up the scraps for.
+She has often said: 'If we had but a goose!' Now she can have one--and
+she shall, too! Will you exchange? I will give you my sheep for your
+goose, and say 'thank you' besides."
+
+The other had no objection, so the peasant had his will and his goose.
+He was now close to the town; he was wearied with the heat and the
+crowd, folk and cattle pushing past him, thronging on the road, in the
+ditch, and close up to the turnpike-man's cabbage-garden, where his one
+hen was tied up, lest in her fright she should lose her way and be
+carried off. It was a short-backed hen: she winked with one eye, crying,
+"Cluck, cluck!" What she was thinking of I can't say, but what the
+peasant thought on seeing her, was this: "That is the prettiest hen I
+have ever seen--much prettier than any of our parson's chickens. I
+should very much like to have her. A hen can always pick up a grain here
+and there--can provide for herself. I almost think it would be a good
+plan to take her instead of the goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked.
+"Exchange?" repeated the owner; "not a bad idea!" So it was done; the
+turnpike-man got the goose, the peasant the hen.
+
+He had transacted a deal of business since first starting on his way to
+the town; hot was he, and wearied too; he must have a dram and a bit of
+bread. He was on the point of entering an inn, when the innkeeper met
+him in the doorway swinging a sack chock-full of something.
+
+"What have you there?" asked the peasant.
+
+"Mellow apples," was the answer, "a whole sackful for swine."
+
+"What a quantity! wouldn't my wife like to see so many! Why, the last
+year we had only one single apple on the whole tree at home. Ah! I wish
+my wife could see them!"
+
+"Well, what will you give me for them?"
+
+"Give for them? why, I will give you my hen." So he gave the hen, took
+the apples, and entered the inn, and going straight up to the bar, set
+his sack upright against the stove without considering that there was a
+fire lighted inside. A good many strangers were present, among them two
+Englishmen, both with their pockets full of gold, and fond of laying
+wagers, as Englishmen in stories are wont to be.
+
+Presently there came a sound from the stove, "Suss--suss--suss!" the
+apples were roasting. "What is that?" folk asked, and soon heard the
+whole history of the horse that had been exchanged, first for a cow, and
+lastly for a sack of rotten apples.
+
+"Well! won't you get a good sound cuff from your wife, when you go
+home?" said one of the Englishmen. "Something heavy enough to fell an
+ox, I warn you!"
+
+"I shall get kisses, not cuffs," replied the peasant. "My wife will say,
+'Whatever the good-man does is right.'"
+
+"A wager!" cried the Englishmen, "for a hundred pounds?"
+
+"Say rather a bushelful," quoth the peasant, "and I can only lay my
+bushel of apples with myself and the good-wife, but that will be more
+than full measure, I trow."
+
+"Done!" cried they. And the innkeeper's cart was brought out forthwith,
+the Englishmen got into it, the peasant got into it, the rotten apples
+got into it, and away they sped to the peasant's cottage.
+
+"Good evening, wife."
+
+"Same to you, good-man."
+
+"Well, I have exchanged the horse, not sold it."
+
+"Of course," said the wife, taking his hand, and in her eagerness to
+listen noticing neither the sack nor the strangers.
+
+"I exchanged the horse for a cow."
+
+"O! how delightful! now we can have milk, butter, and cheese, on our
+table. What a capital idea!"
+
+"Yes, but I exchanged the cow for a sheep."
+
+"Better and better!" cried the wife. "You are always so thoughtful; we
+have only just grass enough for a sheep. But now we shall have ewe's
+milk, and ewe's cheese, and woolen stockings, nay, woolen jackets too;
+and a cow would not give us that; she loses all her hairs. But you are
+always such a clever fellow."
+
+"But the ewe I exchanged again for a goose."
+
+"What! shall we really keep Michaelmas this year, good-man? You are
+always thinking of what will please me, and that was a beautiful
+thought. The goose can be tethered to the willow-tree and grow fat for
+Michaelmas Day."
+
+"But I gave the goose away for a hen," said the peasant.
+
+"A hen? well, that was a good exchange," said his wife. "A hen will lay
+eggs, sit upon them, and we shall have chickens. Fancy! a hen-yard! that
+is just the thing I have always wished for most."
+
+"Ah, but I exchanged the hen for a sack of mellow apples."
+
+"Then I must give thee a kiss," cried the wife. "Thanks, my own husband.
+And now I have something to tell. When you were gone I thought how I
+could get a right good dinner ready for you: omelets with parsley. Now I
+had the eggs, but not the parsley. So I went over to the schoolmaster's;
+they have parsley, I know, but the woman is so crabbed, she wanted
+something for it. Now what could I give her? nothing grows in our
+garden, not even a rotten apple, not even that had I for her; but now I
+can give her ten, nay, a whole sackful. That is famous, good-man!" and
+she kissed him again.
+
+"Well done!" cried the Englishmen. "Always down hill, and always happy!
+Such a sight is worth the money!" And so quite contentedly they paid the
+bushelful of gold pieces to the peasant, who had got kisses, not cuffs,
+by his bargains.
+
+Certainly virtue is her own reward, when the wife is sure that her
+husband is the wisest man in the world, and that whatever he does is
+right. So now you have heard this old story that was once told to me,
+and I hope have learnt the moral.
+
+[Illustration: WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 2: Reprinted by special permission from _Stories and Tales_,
+by Hans Christian Andersen. Copyright by Houghton, Mifflin Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME[3]
+
+     Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
+     following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of whom
+     I shall tell you.
+
+
+THERE was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day long and
+had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat by the fire,
+rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for supper that his
+wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as sharp as vinegar, and
+his temper hot enough to fry fat.
+
+While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make himself
+comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the door. The good
+woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad all in red from head
+to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as white as winter snow.
+
+The fisherman's wife stood gasping and staring at the strange figure,
+but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. "Bring your nets,
+fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There is something that I want
+you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you for your fishing
+as never fisherman was paid before."
+
+"Not I," said the fisherman; "I go out no more this night. I have been
+fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have caught
+nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave a good
+supper and a warm fire at your bidding." But the fisherman's wife had
+listened to what the old man had said about paying for the job, and she
+was of a different mind from her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man
+promises to pay you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell
+you, and my advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would
+not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, "My
+advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The
+wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her
+temper; she only said to everything that he said, "My advice to you is
+that you go."
+
+At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
+spitting his words at her; "if you drive me out into the night, I
+suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words that so many men
+say: "Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife's advice."
+
+Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and
+the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along
+like black spiders behind them.
+
+Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through
+the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where
+nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.
+
+"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven
+years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as
+this."
+
+But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle
+with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then
+out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a
+little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents
+and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his
+pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he
+took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.
+
+Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a dense
+smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far and near,
+till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then the old man
+began to utter strange spells and words.
+
+Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and
+nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth
+rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear
+till his teeth chattered in his head.
+
+Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as still as
+death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever. "Now," said
+the old magician--for such he was--"now we are about to take a journey
+such as no one ever traveled before. Heed well what I tell you. Speak
+not a single word, for if you do, misfortune will be sure to happen."
+
+"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even 'boo' to a goose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say," said
+the fisherman.
+
+"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as well."
+Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready to tie
+it about the fisherman's eyes.
+
+"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even so much as a single feather?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."
+
+But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes, and then
+he was as blind as a bat.
+
+"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and hold
+fast."
+
+The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
+something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk! whizz!
+off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was left for him
+to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to hold fast. On they
+went, and on they went, until, after a great while, whatever it was that
+was carrying him lit upon the ground, and there the fisherman found
+himself standing, for that which had brought him had gone.
+
+The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
+fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
+nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked sand
+upon the other.
+
+"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old magician;
+"for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."
+
+The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them, and then
+cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so much as a
+herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he had caught
+something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and pulled, until
+by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should it be but a great
+chest of wood, blackened by sea-water, and covered with shells and green
+moss.
+
+That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for. From his
+pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he fitted into a
+key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back the lid; the fisherman
+looked within, and there was the prettiest little palace that man's eye
+ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as
+snow. The old magician lifted the little palace out of the box and set
+it upon the ground.
+
+Then, lo and behold! a marvelous thing happened; for the palace
+instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble, until it
+stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the windows
+bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the sound of music
+and voices and laughter coming from within.
+
+Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange thing when
+another happened. The old magician took off his clothes and his
+face--yes, his face--for all the world as though it had been a mask, and
+there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever the light looked
+on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with wonder, he led the way
+up the great flight of marble steps to the palace door. As he came the
+door swung open with a blaze of light, and there stood hundreds of
+noblemen, all clad in silks and satins and velvets, who, when they saw
+the magician, bowed low before him, as though he had been a king.
+Leading the way, they brought the two through halls and chambers and
+room after room, each more magnificent than the other, until they came
+to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the others.
+
+At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady more
+lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as diamonds, her
+cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold. She came half-way
+down the steps of the throne to welcome the magician, and when the two
+met they kissed one another before all those who were looking on. Then
+she brought him to the throne and seated him beside her, and there they
+talked for a long time very earnestly.
+
+Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him like an
+owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they will give a body a
+bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the truth, the good supper he had
+come away from at home had left a sharp hunger gnawing at his insides,
+and he longed for something good and warm to fill the empty place. But
+time passed, and not so much as a crust of bread was brought to stay his
+stomach.
+
+By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon the
+throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the hand, and,
+turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud voice, "Behold him
+who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of jewels! Unto him do I give
+it, and with it all power of powers!" Thereon she opened a golden casket
+that stood beside her, and brought thence a little crystal ball, about
+as big as a pigeon's egg, in which was something that glistened like a
+spark of fire. The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his
+bosom; but what it was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
+know I shall not tell you.
+
+Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
+fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men came
+carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was full of bags
+of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Have what?" said the fisherman.
+
+"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."
+
+"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the chief
+treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a cataract
+of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen so much wealth in
+all his life before, and he stood like a man turned to stone.
+
+"Is all this mine?" said the fisherman.
+
+"It is," said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.
+
+Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to the
+fisherman, left the throne room the same way that they had come. The
+noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and back they
+went through the other apartments, until at last they came to the door.
+Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened!
+
+If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble it
+vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to be seen
+but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky overhead. The fisherman
+shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled, and was as heavy as
+lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich for life. "But anyhow,"
+said he, "they might have given a body a bite to eat."
+
+The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making himself
+as hoary and as old as before. He took out flint and steel, and his
+sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made a great fire and
+smoke just as he had done before. Then again he tied his handkerchief
+over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said he, "what I told you when we
+started upon our journey. Keep your mouth tight shut, for if you utter
+so much as a single word you are a lost man. Now throw your leg over
+what you feel and hold fast."
+
+The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap of gold in the other
+hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he had felt
+before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone through the air
+like a sky-rocket.
+
+Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time, so he
+began to think he would like to see what sort of a creature it was upon
+which he was riding thus through the sky. So he contrived, in spite of
+his net and cap, to push up the handkerchief from over one eye. Out he
+peeped, and then he saw what the strange steed was. He was riding upon a
+he-goat as black as night, and in front of him was the magician riding
+upon just such another, his great red robe fluttering out in the
+moonlight like huge red wings.
+
+"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is a
+billy-goat!"
+
+Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down fell the
+fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over and around and
+around like a frog. He held tightly to his net, but away flew his fur
+cap, the golden money falling in a shower like sparks of yellow light.
+Down he fell and down he fell, until his head spun like a top.
+
+By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft rushes.
+Into the very middle of it he tumbled, and right through the
+thatch--bump!--into the room below.
+
+The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a noise
+as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to wake the dead.
+Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and winking with sleep, and
+with her brains as addled as a duck's egg in a thunderstorm.
+
+"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and rubbed his
+shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's advice!"
+
+[Illustration: THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: Reprinted by special permission from _Twilight Land,_ by
+Howard Pyle. Copyright by Harper & Brothers]
+
+
+
+
+THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES[4]
+
+
+LONG, long ago, a hundred times as long as any one can remember, the
+Great Earth King became so very, very busy about a great many things
+that there were several things that he could not do. So he sat himself
+down and rested his great head upon his hand, and thought, and thought,
+and thought until he decided that he must have some assistance. He would
+advertise for some messengers! So he seized a great brush, as big as a
+church steeple, dipped it into the red and golden sunset light, and
+wrote in big letters high on the sky, that every one far and near could
+read:
+
+     WANTED! MESSENGERS! FLEETER THAN HORSES, SWIFTER THAN MEN, TO CARRY
+     MY MESSAGES, A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+and he signed it simply, "The Earth King." Then he went into his rainbow
+house and laid himself down to sleep on his rainbow bed.
+
+He had scarcely fallen asleep when there came a _rustle, rustle,
+rustle_ at the rainbow window,
+and a _rattle, rattle, rattle_ at the rainbow door. He sprang quickly
+from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came the reply, "come to serve the King."
+
+Then the King opened the door. There before him stood four of the
+strangest creatures that he had ever seen. They were so light that they
+could stand on nothing; they had great wide wings; they had pale faces
+and gleaming eyes; and they had light garments that floated and flapped
+and fluttered in the breeze.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the Winds," answered the mightiest of the four, "East Wind, West
+Wind, South Wind, North Wind," pointing to each in turn, himself last.
+"We have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten._"
+
+Then the King spoke to them in deep and solemn tone: "The task is a
+great one. The King's business is grave and important. My messengers
+must be swift and faithful. Are ye able?"
+
+Then the four winds piously crossed their breasts with their wings and
+whispered, "Try us and see, try us and see, try us and see."
+
+So the King tried them.
+
+"Down by the sea," said the King, "far over the mountains, many hours
+away, there lives a fisher folk that I love. Every day the men of the
+village go forth in their little boats to fish, and every evening they
+come home with their catch. But of late thick and heavy clouds have hung
+about them. They have not dared go forth lest they should not reach home
+again, and their families begin to be in want. Go to them to-day. Drive
+away the fog and clouds that the people may be happy again. Quick!
+away!"
+
+Then the four winds lifted their swift, beautiful wings and were gone.
+Faster and faster they flew till none could tell how fast they flew.
+Over the meadows they went and over the mountains. Each tried to
+outwing the others until it became a fierce and careless game. So
+blind and careless were they in their sport that they did not notice how
+they whirled the sand, and broke the trees, and tossed the water.
+Swiftly through the fishing village they tore, hurling its poor houses
+to the ground and _crashing, dashing, slashing, smashing_ the waves
+upon the fallen wrecks and the frightened and suffering folk.
+
+Not until they were weary with their furious sport did they remember the
+errand on which the King had sent them. They retraced their steps as
+quickly as they could, but alas! to their shame and grief, the village
+lay in ruins and the people wept for their loss.
+
+Then the Earth King was very sad and angry. He brought the shameful
+winds before his court. "False and faithless winds," he said, in stern
+and awful voice, "ye did not do my errand; ye were traitors to your
+trust; great shall be your punishment. Nevermore shall ye be my
+messengers, evermore shall ye be my slaves. Away from my sight!"
+
+Then the faithless winds departed from before the face of the King, and
+in shame and sorrow went moaning among the caves and the rocks by the
+seaside, and sighing among the lonely pine trees in the wilderness, and
+even to this day you may hear the echoes of their moans and sighs.
+
+The Earth King was sorrowful, but not discouraged. Again he seized the
+great paint brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped it into the red
+and golden sunset light, and wrote in big letters high on the sky that
+every one far and near could read:
+
+    WANTED! MESSENGERS!
+    FLEETER THAN HORSES,
+    SWIFTER THAN MEN,
+    TO CARRY MY MESSAGES,
+    A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+Then he went into his rainbow house and laid himself down on his rainbow
+bed. He scarcely had taken forty winks when he heard a _rat-tat-tatting_
+on the rainbow window and a _rap-rap-rapping_ on the rainbow door.
+Quickly he leaped from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came a gentle voice through the keyhole, "come to
+serve the King."
+
+Then he opened the door, and there before him flitted and twittered a
+company of the most curious little people that he ever had set eyes
+upon. They had each a pair of beady eyes, a little pointed nose, a set
+of little scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, fitting as snug
+as ever the tailor could make it.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the birds, and our names are many. We saw the King's sign in the
+sky and have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+Then the King, remembering the Winds, addressed them in very deep and
+solemn tones: "The task is a great one. The King's business is exceeding
+grave and important. My messengers must be swift and faithful, must
+remember my commands and keep my secrets. Are ye able?"
+
+Each bird laid his little scratchy toes on his little pointed nose and
+vowed that he would remember the King's commands and keep the King's
+secrets.
+
+"Then," said the King, "make ready. Far to the north dwells a people
+that I love. For many a month they have lived amid ice and snow and the
+bitter frosts. Now they sigh for warmer days, and I have heard them. I
+am planning a delightful surprise for them. I am going to carry spring
+to them. Go, find the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and bid them
+come at once to the King's court, that I may take them and the spring
+days to my suffering and discouraged people. Then return with all speed
+to the King, and remember --do not betray my secret."
+
+The bird-messengers hastened away as fast as ever their wings could
+carry them. They summoned the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and
+bade them make haste to the Earth King. They, of course, turned back as
+they were commanded, but before they reached home again, each one of
+them was seized with a strange, restless, uneasy feeling right in the
+middle of his feathers. It must have been the secret trying to get out.
+One by one they stole past the King's house under cover of the night and
+made their way to the north country. And when the morning came, there
+they were, sitting on the fence posts and in the apple trees, just
+bursting with the happy secret of the King.
+
+    _Then the robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+The people were very happy when they heard what the birds said, and with
+much excitement began to get ready for the springtime.
+
+Now, of course, the King knew nothing about all this, and was very happy
+in thinking of the surprise that he was to give the people. He took the
+warm sunshine and the soft south wind for companions, and made his way
+in all haste to the land of ice and snow. As he arrived, with his
+delightful secret, as he thought, hidden in his heart, he was amazed to
+find an old woman sitting in her doorway knitting.
+
+"Why are you sitting here?" he asked. "Why are you not within, warming
+your feet by the fire?"
+
+"Why, don't you know?" she said, "spring is coming!"
+
+"Spring?" he asked, almost roughly; "how do you know?"
+
+"Oh," said she with a smile, trying not to look at a robin that turned
+his back behind the picket fence, hoping that if the King saw him he
+might think he was an English sparrow, "a little bird told me."
+
+The King walked up the street, looking gloomy enough, and soon came
+across a gardener with his rake, uncovering the crocuses and the
+daffodils.
+
+"Why do you do this, my good man? Surely your flowers will freeze. You
+had much better be covering them up."
+
+"Oh, no," he said, straightening his bent back, "spring is coming."
+
+"Spring," said the King; "how do _you_ know?"
+
+"Oh," said the gardener, with a grin, and a twinkle in his left eye, as
+he caught sight of a bluebird peeking half-scared around the limb of a
+near-by apple tree, "a little bird told me."
+
+Then the disgraceful story all came out: that
+
+    _The robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+My! but wasn't the Earth King disgusted! And weren't the bird-messengers
+ashamed to come when he sternly called them! Each laid his little
+pointed nose on his little scratchy toes, and dropped his eyes and
+uttered never a word.
+
+"Silly birds," he said in scornful voice. "You vowed to keep my secrets.
+You have broken your vow. You obeyed my commands and called the south
+wind and the sunshine; so I cannot be too harsh with you. But you cannot
+keep my secrets, so I cannot keep you as my messengers. Now and then I
+may use you as my servants. Adieu!"
+
+Then the birds flew sadly away as quietly and quickly as ever they
+could, and set to work building their nests in holes in the trees and
+holes in the ground and in out-of-the-way places, making such a
+chattering meantime that neither they, nor any one else, could hear
+themselves think.
+
+By this time the Earth King was nearly discouraged. He did not know what
+in the world to do. He rested his elbow on his knee and his great head
+in his hand and thought and wondered. Then once again he rose and took
+the great brush and wrote the same big words on the sky. And for very
+weariness he lay down on a great bank of clouds and soon was sound
+asleep. As he slept, the cloud grew bigger and bigger and blacker and
+blacker, and the thunder came nearer and nearer until, all at once,
+CRASH-CRASH--the cloud seemed torn to pieces and the King leaped to his
+feet half-scared to death, even if he was a King. There before him,
+darting this way and that way, and up and down, and across-ways, was a
+swarm of little red-hot creatures that hissed and buzzed and cracked
+like the Fourth of July.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in half-fright as he rubbed his eyes, "and what
+do you want?"
+
+"Messengers, messengers, messengers," whispered they all at once, "and
+we have come to serve the King."
+
+"What are your names?"
+
+"We are the Lightning Spirits; sometimes men call us Electricity--
+
+    _The swiftest creatures that are known to men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+The King charged them gravely and solemnly, as he had done the winds and
+the birds before them, that his messengers must be true and faithful and
+must keep his secrets. But no matter how great the task nor how heavy
+the oaths with which he bound them to be faithful, they were eager, all
+of them, to serve the King. Only he must build road-ways for them. They
+had not wings to fly, and their feet were not accustomed to the highways
+of the land. They might lose their way. So the King decided to try them.
+He called his laborers and ordered them to erect tall poles, and from
+pole to pole to lay slender roadways of wire. Miles and miles of these
+roadways he built, over the hills and through the valleys. And when all
+was complete, he called the spirits to him and whispered to them his
+secret messages. Quick as thought they ran over the little roadways,
+hither and thither, and back again, doing faithfully and well the King's
+errands and keeping the King's secrets. They whispered never so much as
+a word of them. So the Earth King called a great assembly, and before
+them all appointed the Lightning Spirits to be his trusted messengers
+for ever and a day.
+
+Of course the winds were very jealous when they heard of it, and they
+determined to get revenge by stealing the messages from the spirits.
+They dashed against the wires day after day, trying to break them and
+get the secrets, but all to no purpose. All they could hear was
+MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M; and the harder they blew, the louder they heard it.
+
+The birds had all along been sorry that they had given away the great
+secret, and had been hoping that the King would give them another
+chance. They were much too gentle to do as the winds did. But they were
+very curious to find out what the King's messages were. So day after day
+they went to the wires and sat upon them and snuggled down as close to
+them as they could get and listened hard, putting now the right ear down
+and now the left--but all they could ever hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M-M.
+
+_And they seem never to have got over that habit!_ If you want to find
+out for yourself the truth of this tale, _you go_ some day when the wind
+is blowing against the wires and the birds are sitting upon them,
+snuggled close, and put your ear to a telegraph pole and all _you_ will
+hear is MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M.
+
+[Illustration: CATHKA AND THE DEVIL]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: By permission of the publishers from _The City That Never
+Was Reached,_ by Dr. Jay T. Stocking. Copyright by _The Pilgrim Press_.]
+
+
+
+
+KATCHA AND THE DEVIL[5]
+
+THE STORY OF A CLINGING VINE
+
+
+THERE was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she
+owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good
+it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not
+even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for
+her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn't open her mouth without
+scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you
+could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until
+by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.
+
+Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was
+a dance either at the burgomaster's, or at the tavern. As soon as the
+bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls
+gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first
+at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the
+girls to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when
+she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday
+after Sunday just the same.
+
+One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to
+herself: "Here I am getting old and yet I've never once danced with a
+boy! Plague take it, to-day I'd dance with the devil if he asked me!"
+
+She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat
+down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had
+invited to dance.
+
+Suddenly a stranger in hunter's green came in. He sat down at a table
+near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer,
+he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she
+was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly
+and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.
+
+When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket,
+tossed it to the piper, and called out:
+
+"Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!"
+
+The boys snickered and the girls giggled, hiding behind each other and
+stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn't hear
+them laughing. But Katcha wasn't noticing them at all. Katcha was
+dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at
+her, Katcha wouldn't have cared.
+
+The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once
+did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks
+and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.
+
+"Ah," sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to
+part, "I wish I could dance with you forever!"
+
+"Very well," said the stranger. "Come with me."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"Put your arm around my neck and I'll tell you."
+
+Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a
+devil and flew straight down to hell.
+
+At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.
+
+His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was
+exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on
+tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.
+
+The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself
+with Katcha still glued to his neck.
+
+"What's that thing you've got around your neck?" the Prince asked.
+
+So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard
+Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. "So I
+asked her to dance with me," the devil said. "Afterwards just to
+frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won't let
+go of me!"
+
+"Serve you right, you dunce!" the Prince said. "How often have I told
+you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might
+have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!"
+
+"I beg your Majesty to make her let go!" the poor devil implored.
+
+"I will not!" said the Prince. "You'll have to carry her back to earth
+yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a
+lesson to you."
+
+So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with
+Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He
+promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He
+cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.
+
+Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a meadow where a
+shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his
+flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so
+that the shepherd didn't recognize him.
+
+"Hi, there," the shepherd said, "what's that you're carrying?"
+
+"Don't ask me," the devil said with a sigh. "I'm so worn out I'm nearly
+dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along
+comes a woman and jumps on my back and won't let go. I'm trying to carry
+her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don't believe
+I'm able. My legs are giving out."
+
+The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: "I tell you what: I'll
+help you. I can't leave my sheep long, but I'll carry her halfway."
+
+"Oh," said the devil, "I'd be very grateful if you did!"
+
+So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: "Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!"
+
+When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of
+the devil and leapt upon the shepherd's back, catching hold of the
+collar of his sheepskin coat.
+
+Now the young shepherd soon found that the long shaggy coat and Katcha
+made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of
+his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of
+Katcha.
+
+Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he'd like to
+throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it
+by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he
+thought he could slip out of it without Katcha's discovering what he was
+doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn't move. He
+slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn't move. He unlooped the
+first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button.
+Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk!
+he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!
+
+When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.
+
+"Where's Katcha?" he gasped.
+
+"Oh," the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "I
+decided to leave her up yonder in a pond."
+
+"My dear friend," the devil cried, "I thank you! You have done me a
+great favor. If it hadn't been for you I might be carrying Katcha till
+dooms-day. I'll never forget you and some time I'll reward you. As you
+don't know who it is you've helped, I must tell you I'm a devil."
+
+With these words the devil vanished.
+
+For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to
+himself: "Well, if they're all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able
+for them!"
+
+The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young
+duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing.
+He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as
+he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people
+until the whole land was crying out against them.
+
+Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and
+ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two
+governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the
+three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the
+duke from questioning him further.
+
+"Such danger," he said, "threatens your life and the lives of your two
+governors that I fear to speak."
+
+"Whatever it is," said the duke, "speak. But I warn you to speak the
+truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your
+life."
+
+The astrologer bowed and said: "Hear then, O Duke, what the planets
+foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day,
+at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two
+governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and
+such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you
+off to hell."
+
+The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply
+shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of
+judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.
+
+As for the governors, they couldn't eat a bite of food and were carried
+from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten
+wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all
+the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.
+
+The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of
+state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.
+
+The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his
+flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings
+in the great world.
+
+Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: "I have come,
+my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first
+quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because
+they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they're
+behaving themselves now so they're to be given another chance. But they
+don't know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first
+castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and
+the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to
+me and say: 'What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!' I'll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask
+the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just
+threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second
+governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you,
+though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the
+moon is full, I'm to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked
+that he's to have no second chance. So don't try to save him, for if you
+do you'll pay for it with your own skin. Don't forget!"
+
+The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When
+the moon was in its first quarter he went to the first castle. A great
+crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away
+the governor.
+
+Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle
+opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the
+governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.
+
+The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the
+hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.
+
+"What do you mean by this?" he shouted. "Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!"
+
+Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the
+shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in
+reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor
+ordered that they be given him without delay.
+
+Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went
+through exactly the same performance.
+
+It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he
+had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he
+sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and
+when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously to rescue him
+likewise from the devil's clutches.
+
+"Master," the shepherd answered, "I cannot promise you anything. I have
+to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you
+really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and
+kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you
+even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place."
+
+The duke declared that with God's help he would mend his ways and the
+shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.
+
+With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full
+moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer's
+prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for
+him had changed.
+
+Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too
+soon the fatal day arrived.
+
+Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the
+arrival of the devil.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before
+him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:
+
+"Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!"
+
+Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard,
+which was filled with a great multitude of people.
+
+At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way
+through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:
+
+"What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be trouble!"
+
+"What do _you_ mean?" whispered the devil. "Don't you remember what I
+told you?"
+
+"Hush!" the shepherd whispered back. "I don't care anything about the
+duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She's alive and she's
+looking for you!"
+
+The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.
+
+All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed
+in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.
+
+As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his
+chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the
+shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.
+
+[Ilustration: THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 5: From _Czechoslovak Fairy Tales_, by Parker Fillmore.
+Copyright by Harcourt, Brace & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN[6]
+
+
+FOR a long hour, on that November afternoon, my brother Ted had been
+standing at the gate below the ranch house, waiting and waiting, while
+the twilight filled the round hollow of the valley as water slowly fills
+a cup. At last the figure of a rider, silhouetted against the
+rose-colored sky, came into view along the crest of the rocky ridge. The
+little cow pony was loping as swiftly as the rough trail would permit,
+but to Ted's impatient eyes it seemed to crawl as slowly as a fly on a
+window pane. Although the horseman looked like a cow puncher, at that
+distance, with his slouch hat and big saddle, the eager boy knew that it
+was the district doctor making his far rounds over the range. A swift
+epidemic had been sweeping over Montana, passing from one ranch to
+another and leaving much illness and suffering behind. Ted's uncle and
+the cousin who was his own age had both been stricken two days before
+and it seemed that the doctor would never come.
+
+"I'm glad you are here," he said as the doctor's pony, covered with foam
+and quivering with fatigue, passed through the open gate. "We have two
+patients for you."
+
+The man nodded.
+
+"Fever, I suppose," he commented, "and aching bones, and don't know what
+to make of themselves because they have never been sick before? I have
+seen a hundred such cases in the last few days. It is bad at all the
+ranches, but the sheep herders, off in their cabins by themselves, are
+hit particularly hard."
+
+He slipped from the saddle and strode into the house, leaving Ted to
+take the tired pony around to the stables. It was very dark now and
+growing cold, but he felt warm and comforted, somehow, since the doctor
+had come. He heard running feet behind him and felt a dog's nose, cold
+and wet, thrust into his hand. It was Pedro, the giant, six months' old
+wolf hound puppy, long legged and shaggy haired, the pride of Ted's life
+and the best beloved of all his possessions. The big dog followed his
+master into the stable and sat down, blinking solemnly in the circle of
+lantern light, while the boy was caring for the doctor's horse and
+bedding it down. Ted's thoughts were very busy, now with his anxieties
+about his uncle, now racing out over the range to wonder how those in
+the stricken ranch houses and lonely cabins might be faring. There was
+the ranch on Arran Creek--people there were numerous enough to care for
+each other. It might be worse at Thompson's Crossing, and, oh, how would
+it be with those shepherds who lived in tiny cottages here and there
+along the Big Basin, so far from neighbors that often for months they
+saw no other faces than the wooly vacant ones of their thousands of
+sheep.
+
+There was one, a big grizzled Irishman, whom Ted had seen only a few
+times. Nevertheless, he was one of his closest friends. They had met on
+a night when the boy was hunting, and he could remember still how they
+had lain together by the tiny camp fire, with the coyotes yelping in the
+distance, with the great plain stretching out into the dark, with the
+slender curl of smoke rising straight upward and the big stars seeming
+almost within reach of his hand in the thin air. The lonely Irishman had
+opened his heart to his new friend and had told him much of his own
+country, so unlike this big bare one, a dear green land where the
+tumbledown cottages and little fields were crowded together in such
+comforting comradeship.
+
+"You could open your window of a summer night and give a call to the
+neighbors," he sighed, "and you needn't to have the voice of the giant
+Finn McCoul to make them hear. In this place a man could fall sick and
+die alone and no one be the wiser."
+
+His reminiscences had wandered farther and farther until he began to
+tell the tales and legends familiar in his own countryside, stories of
+the "Little People" and of Ireland in ancient times. Of them all Ted
+remembered most clearly the story of the white grayhounds of the King of
+Connemara, upon which his friend had dwelt long, showing that in spite
+of its being a thousand years old, it was his favorite tale.
+
+"Like those dogs on Arran Creek, they were perhaps," the Irishman said,
+"only sleeker of coat and swifter of foot, I'm thinking."
+
+"But they couldn't be faster," Ted had objected. "The Arran dogs can
+catch coyotes and jack-rabbits and people have called those the quickest
+animals that run."
+
+"Ah," returned the other with true Irish logic, "those Arran dogs are
+Russian, they tell me, and these I speak of were of Connemara, and what
+comes out of Ireland, you may be sure, is faster and fairer than
+anything else on earth."
+
+Against such reasoning Ted had judged it impossible to argue and had
+dropped into silence and finally into sleep with the voices of the
+coyotes and the legend of the lean, white Irish grayhounds still running
+like swift water through his dreams.
+
+After that he had visited the lonely shepherd whenever he could find
+time to travel so far. Together they had hunted deer and trapped beaver
+in the foothills above the Big Basin or, when the sheep had to be moved
+to new pasture, had spent hours in earnest talk, plodding patiently in
+the dust after the slow-moving flock. The long habit of silence had
+taken deep hold upon the Irishman, but with Ted alone he seemed willing
+to speak freely. It was on one of these occasions that he had given the
+boy the image of Saint Christopher, "For," he said, "you are like to be
+a great roamer and a great traveler from the way you talk, and those who
+carry the good Saint Christopher with them, always travel safely."
+
+Now, as Ted thought of illness and pestilence spreading across the
+thinly settled state, his first and keenest apprehension was for the
+safety of his friend. His work done, he went quickly back to the house
+where the doctor was already standing on the doorstep again.
+
+"They are not bad cases, either of them," he was saying to Ted's aunt.
+"If they have good care there is no danger, but if they don't--then
+Heaven help them, I can't."
+
+Ted came close and pulled his sleeve.
+
+"Tell me," he questioned quickly, "Michael Martin isn't sick, is he?"
+
+"Michael Martin?" repeated the doctor. "A big Irishman in the cabin at
+the upper edge of Big Basin? Yes, he's down sick as can be, poor fellow,
+with no one but a gray old collie dog, about the age of himself, I
+should think, to keep him company."
+
+He turned back to give a few last directions.
+
+"I suppose you are master of the house with your uncle laid up," he said
+to Ted again, "and I will have to apply to you to lend me a fresh horse
+so that I can go on."
+
+"You're never going on to-night?" exclaimed Ted; "why, you have been
+riding for all you were worth, all day!"
+
+"Yes, and all the night before," returned the doctor cheerfully, "but
+this is no time to spare horses or doctors. Good gracious, boy, what's
+that?" For Pedro, tall and white in the dark, standing on his hind legs
+to insert an inquisitive puppy nose between the doctor's collar and his
+neck, was an unexpected and startling apparition.
+
+"That's my dog," Ted explained proudly; "Jim McKenzie, over on Arran
+Creek, gave him to me; he has a lot of them, you know. Pedro is only
+half grown now, he is going to be a lot bigger when he is a year old.
+Yes, I'll bring you a horse right away, yours couldn't go another mile."
+
+When, a few minutes later, the sound of hoofs came clattering up from
+the stables it seemed certain that there were more than four of them.
+
+"What's this?" the doctor inquired, seeing a second horse with
+saddlebags and blanket roll strapped in place and observing Ted's boots
+and riding coat.
+
+"My aunt and the girls will take care of Uncle," the boy replied, "so I
+am going out to see Michael Martin. You can tell me what to do for him
+as we ride up the trail."
+
+They could feel the sharp wind almost before they began climbing the
+ridge. So far, summer had lingered into November, but the weather was
+plainly changing now and there had been reports of heavy snowfalls in
+the mountains. The stars shone dimly, as though through a veil of mist.
+
+"You had better push on as fast as you can," advised the doctor as they
+came to the parting of their ways. "When a man is as sick as Michael,
+what ever is to happen, comes quickly." His horse jumped and snorted.
+"There's that white puppy of yours again. What a ghost he is! He is
+rather big to take with you to a sick man's cabin."
+
+Pedro had come dashing up the trail behind them, in spite of his having
+been ordered sternly to stay at home. At six months old the sense of
+obedience is not quite so great as it should be, and the love of going
+on an expedition is irresistible.
+
+"It would take me forever to drive him home now," Ted admitted; "I will
+take him along to Jim McKenzie's and leave him there with his brothers.
+I can make Arran Creek by breakfast time and ought to get to Michael's
+not long after noon. Well, so long!"
+
+The stars grew more dim and the wind keener as he rode on through the
+night. His pony cantered steadily with the easy rocking-horse motion
+that came near to lulling him to sleep. Pedro paddled alongside, his
+long legs covering the miles with untiring energy. They stopped at
+midnight to drink from the stream they were crossing, to rest a little
+and to eat some lunch from the saddlebags. Then they pressed on once
+more, on and on, until gray and crimson began to show behind the
+mountains to the eastward, and the big white house of Arran at last
+came into sight.
+
+Jim McKenzie's place was bigger than the ordinary ranch house, for there
+were gabled roofs showing through the group of trees, there were tall
+barns and a wide fenced paddock where lived the white Russian wolfhounds
+for which the Arran ranch was famous. A deep-voiced chorus of welcome
+was going up as Ted and Pedro came down the trail. The puppy responded
+joyfully and went bounding headlong to the foot of the slope to greet
+his brothers. It was a beautiful sight to see the band of great dogs,
+their coats like silver in the early morning light, romping together
+like a dozen kittens, pursuing each other in circles, checking,
+wheeling, rolling one another over, leaping back and forth over the low
+fences that divided the paddock, with the grace and free agility of
+deer. Early as it was, Jim McKenzie was walking down to the stables and
+stopped to greet Ted as, weary and dusty, he rode through the gate.
+
+"Sure we'll keep Pedro," he said when he had heard the boy's errand.
+"Yes, we've a good many sick here; I'd have sent out on the range myself
+but there was nobody to spare. They tell me the herds of sheep are in
+terrible confusion, and most of the herders are down. Poor old Michael
+Martin, I hope you get there in time to help him. Turn your horse into
+the corral, we'll give you another to go on with. Now come in to
+breakfast." Ted snatched a hurried meal, threw his saddle upon a fresh
+pony, and set off again. For a long distance he could hear the
+lamentations of Pedro protesting loudly at the paddock gate. The way,
+after he passed Arran Creek, led out into the flat country of the Big
+Basin with the sagebrush-dotted plain stretching far ahead. It seemed
+that he rode endlessly and arrived nowhere, so long was the way and so
+unchanging the landscape. Once, as he crossed a stream, a deer rose,
+stamping and snorting among the low bushes, and fled away toward the
+hills, seeming scarcely to touch the ground as it went. Later, something
+quick and silent, and looking like a reddish-brown collie, leaped from
+the sagebrush and scudded across the trail almost under his horse's
+feet.
+
+"A coyote, out in the open in daylight," he reflected, somewhat
+startled. "It must have been cold up in the mountains to make them so
+bold. That looks bad for the sheep."
+
+It was disturbing also to see how many scattered sheep he was beginning
+to pass, little bands, solitary ewes with half-grown lambs trotting at
+their heels, adventurous yearlings straying farther and farther from
+their comrades. Once or twice he tried to drive them together, but owing
+to his haste and his inexperience with their preposterous ways, he had
+very little success.
+
+"There is going to be bad weather, too," he observed as he saw the blue
+sky disappear beneath an overcast of gray. "I had better get on to
+Michael's as fast as I can."
+
+He saw the little mud and log cabin at last, tucked away among some
+stunted trees near the shoulder of a low ridge. It looked deceivingly
+near, yet he rode and rode and could not reach it. White flakes were
+flying now, fitfully at first, then thicker and thicker until he could
+scarcely see. His growing misgivings gave place to greater and greater
+anxiety concerning his friend, while there ran through his mind again
+and again the doctor's words, "Whatever is to happen, comes quickly."
+
+It was past noon and had begun to seem as though he had been riding
+forever when he breasted the final slope at last, jumped from his horse,
+and thundered at the cabin door. The whine of a dog answered him from
+within, and a faint voice, broken but still audible, told him that
+Michael was alive. The cabin, so it seemed to him as he entered, was a
+good ten degrees colder than it was outside. Poor Michael, helpless and
+shivering on the bunk in the corner, looked like the shrunken ghost of
+the giant Irishman he had known before. Ted rekindled the fire, emptied
+his saddlebags, piled his extra blankets upon the bed and, with a skill
+bred of long practice in camp cookery, set about preparing a meal.
+Michael was so hoarse as to be almost unable to speak and so weak that
+his mind wandered in the midst of a sentence, yet all of his thoughts
+were on the care of his sheep.
+
+"When I felt the sickness coming on me I tried to drive them in," he
+whispered, "but they broke and scattered and I fell beside the
+trail--they must get in--snow coming--"
+
+In an hour his fever rose again, he tossed and muttered with only
+fleeting intervals of consciousness. Ted had found food and shelter for
+his horse in the sheep shed, and had settled down to his task of anxious
+watching. The snow fell faster and faster so that darkness came on by
+mid-afternoon. He had tried to drive the old collie dog out to herd in
+the sheep, but the poor old creature would not leave its master and,
+even when pushed outside, remained whining beside the door.
+
+"He couldn't do much anyway," sighed Ted as he let him in again. "How
+those coyotes yelp! I wish, after all, that I had brought Pedro."
+
+Michael had heard the coyotes too and was striving feebly to rise from
+his bed.
+
+"I must go out to them, my poor creatures," he gasped. "Those devil
+beasts will have driven them over the whole country before morning."
+
+But he fell back, too weak to move farther, and was silent a long time.
+When he did speak it was almost aloud.
+
+"With the cold and the snow, I'm thinking there will be worse things
+abroad this night than just the coyotes."
+
+He lay very still while Ted sat beside him, beginning to feel sleepy and
+blinking at the firelight. Eleven o'clock, twelve, one, the slow hands
+of his watch pointed to the crawling hours. Michael was not asleep but
+he said nothing, he was listening too intently. It was after one and the
+boy might have been dozing, when the old man spoke again.
+
+"Hark," he said.
+
+For a moment Ted could hear nothing save the pat-pat of the snow
+against the window, but the collie dog bristled and growled as he lay
+upon the hearth and pricked his ears sharply. Then the boy heard it
+too, a faint cry and far off, not the sharp yelping of the coyotes,
+though that was ominous enough, but the long hungry howl of a timber
+wolf. Tears of weakness and terror were running down the Irishman's
+face.
+
+"My poor sheep, I must save them," he cried. "What's the value of a
+man's life alongside of the creatures that's trusted him. Those
+murderers will have every one of them killed for me."
+
+Ted jumped up quickly and bundled on his coat.
+
+"Where's your rifle, Michael?" he asked. "I don't know much about sheep,
+but I will do what I can."
+
+"The rifle?" returned Michael doubtfully. "Now, I had it on my shoulder
+the day I went out with the sickness on me, and it is in my mind that I
+did not bring it home again. But there is the little gun hanging on the
+nail; there's no more shells for it but there's two shots still left in
+the chamber."
+
+The boy took down the rusty revolver and spun the cylinder with a
+practised finger.
+
+"Two shots is right," he said, "and you have no more shells? Well, two
+shots may scare a wolf."
+
+If Michael had been in his proper senses, Ted very well knew, he would
+never have permitted, without protest, such an expedition as the boy
+was planning. As it was, however, he lay back in his bunk again, his
+mind wandering off once more into feverish dreams.
+
+"If it was in the Old Country," he muttered, "the very Little People
+themselves would rise up to help a man in such a plight. You could be
+feeling the rush of their wings in the air and could hear the cry of the
+fairy hounds across the hills. America is a good country, but, ah--it's
+not the same!"
+
+Hoping to quiet him, Ted took the little Saint Christopher from his
+pocket and laid it in the sick man's hand. Then he finished strapping
+his big boots, opened the door and slipped out quietly. Michael scarcely
+noticed his going.
+
+The snow had fallen without drifting much, nor was it yet very deep. He
+hurried down the slope, not quite knowing what he was to do, thinking
+that at least he would gather as many sheep as he could and drive them
+homeward. But there were no sheep to be found. Where so many had been
+scattered that afternoon there was now not one. The whole of the Big
+Basin seemed suddenly to have emptied of them. Presently, however, he
+found a broad trail of trampled snow which he followed, where it led
+along a tiny stream at the foot of the bridge. As he turned, he heard
+again that long, terrifying howl coming down the wind. The sheep,
+perverse enough to scatter to the four winds when their master sought to
+drive them in, had now, it seemed, gathered of their own will when so
+great a danger threatened. Ted came upon them at last, huddled together
+in a little ravine where the sparse undergrowth gave some shelter from
+the snow. He could just see them in the dim light, their gray compact
+bodies crowded close, their foolish black faces seeming to look
+piteously to him for help. They were very quiet, although now and then
+they would shift a little, stamp, and move closer. The cry of the wolf
+was stilled at last, but not because the fierce marauder was not drawing
+nearer.
+
+Yes, as he stood watching, there slipped a swift dark shape over the
+opposite edge of the hollow and flung itself upon a straggling ewe on
+the outskirts of the flock. It was followed by a second silent shadow,
+and a third. The poor sheep gave only one frantic bleat, then all was
+still again save for the sound of a hideous snapping and tearing, of a
+furious struggle muffled in the soft depths of the snow. Ted raised the
+revolver and took careful aim, he pulled the trigger, but no explosion
+followed. Michael's improvidence in letting his stock dwindle to only
+two cartridges might be counted upon also to have let those two be damp.
+Helplessly the boy spun the cylinder and snapped the hammer again and
+again, but to no purpose.
+
+The sheep was down now, with one of the savage hunters standing over it,
+another tearing at its throat while the third was slipping along the
+edge of the flock selecting a fresh victim. Ted's weapon was useless,
+yet he must do something, he could not stand and see the whole herd
+destroyed before his eyes. Perhaps he could frighten them away as one
+could coyotes: he was so angry at this senseless, brutal slaughter that
+he lost all sense of prudence. He waved his arms up and down and shouted
+at the top of his lungs. He saw the creatures drop their prey and turn
+to look up at him. He ran along the slope, still shouting, then, of a
+sudden, stepped into an unexpected hollow, lost his balance and fell
+headlong. One of the wolves left the flock and came creeping swiftly
+toward him, its belly dragging in the snow.
+
+His cry must have carried far in the quiet of the night for it was
+answered from a great way off. A deep voice broke the stillness and
+another, the call of coursing hounds who have winded their quarry but
+have not yet found its trail. And mingled with the barking chorus there
+rose high the joyful yelp of a puppy who seeks his beloved master.
+
+Ted, slipping in the snow, struggled to his knees and called again and
+again. The stealthy, approaching shadow crept a yard nearer, then paused
+to lift a gray muzzle and sniff the air. The second wolf, with
+slobbering bloody jaws, turned to listen, the flock of sheep snorted and
+stamped in the snow.
+
+A minute passed, then another. The boy managed to get to his feet. Then
+across the edge of the hollow, white against the dark underbrush, he saw
+the dogs coming, a line of swift, leaping forms, huge, shaggy and
+beautiful, their great voices all giving tongue together. Down the slope
+they came like an avalanche, only one separating himself from the others
+for a moment to fling himself upon Ted, to lick his face in ecstatic
+greeting and to rub a cold nose against his cheek. That nimble puppy
+nose it was that had lifted the latch of a gate not too securely
+fastened, and so set the whole pack free. Then Pedro ran to join his
+brothers who were sweeping on to battle. Wolfhounds are taught to catch,
+not to kill their quarry, but the thirst for blood was in the hearts of
+the dogs of Arran that night. There was only a moment of struggle, a
+few choking cries, and the fight was over.
+
+Day broke next morning, clear and bright, with the chinook blowing, the
+big warm wind that melts the snows and lays the white hills bare almost
+in an hour. Michael Martin, fallen into a proper sleep at last, woke
+suddenly and sat up in his bunk. He startled Ted, who, rather stiff and
+sore from his night's adventures, was kneeling by the fire preparing
+breakfast. The boy came quickly to his patient's side to inquire how he
+did.
+
+"It's better I am in body," the Irishman answered; "indeed I begin to
+feel almost like a whole man again. But--" he shook his head sadly, "my
+poor wits, they're gone away entirely."
+
+Michael sighed deeply.
+
+"After you were gone last night," he answered, "even my wandering senses
+had an inkling of what a dangerous errand it was, and I got up from my
+bed and stumbled to the window to call you back. Yes, the sickness has
+made me daft entirely, for as sure as I live, I saw the white grayhounds
+of Connemara go over the hill. But daft or no--" he sniffed at the odor
+of frying bacon that rose from the hearth, "I am going to relish my
+breakfast this day. Eh, glory me, if there isn't another of the
+creatures now!"
+
+For Pedro, once more applying a knowing muzzle to the clumsy latch, had
+pushed open the door and stood upon the step, wagging and apologetic,
+the morning sun shining behind him. Long-legged and awkward, he stepped
+over the threshold and came to the bedside to sniff inquisitively at the
+little silver image that lay on the blanket. Michael could never be
+persuaded to believe otherwise than that Saint Christopher had brought
+him.
+
+[Illustration: WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 6: Reprinted by permission of the publishers from _The Pool of
+Stars_, by Cornelia Meigs. Copyright, 1915, by the Macmillan Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME[7]
+
+     ("'Tis mindin' somethin' that happened far an' back o' the times o'
+     the Little People I am. Sure, 'tis meself had nigh on forgot it
+     entirely, but when all's quiet I'll be afther tellin' it.")
+
+
+THERE was always battlin' somewhere, back in those days; an' heroes that
+fought with sword an' spear--forged far up an' under the rainbow by Len
+the Smith, that was mighty in all sorts o' wisdom.
+
+Now one time he was beatin' out a great shield o' gold; an' 'twas
+wrought so cunnin' that who turned it over an' laid it on the wather
+could step on it an' sail where he would. An' for a device on it he made
+roses o' the fine gold, raised far out from it, as they'd been growin'
+right there. Almost they seemed wavin' in the wind.
+
+An' as he came to sthrikin' the last blows, his hand slipped, an' his
+great hammer went flyin' downward through the air; an' his cry o'
+command sent ringin' afther it was too late to hindher.
+
+Now 'twas about toward sunset, an' the waves were beatin' high an' wild
+afther storm on the west coast, that Artan, son o' Duallach, that was a
+king's son, was huntin' along the coast. All day he'd been tryin' to
+keep from the company o' Myrdu, his half-brother, but only by now had he
+shaken him off; an' he was runnin' swiftly, for gladness o' bein' alone
+with the breeze an' the flyin' spray.
+
+Just as the sinkin' sun touched the sea, he heard the great cryin'-out
+o' Len, out o' the North, an' looked up into the deep sky. An' there he
+saw, whirlin' down toward him, somethin' first dark an' then bright. Not
+a fearin' thought was in him; an' as it came nigh he sprang with hand
+stretched out an' caught it --just savin' it from bein' buried in the
+beach sand.
+
+The force of its fallin' sent him to his knees, but in a breath he was
+on his feet again, lookin' at what he held. Sure, 'twas nothin' less
+than a great hammer, glowin' an' darkenin' by turns, as there had been
+livin' fire within it.
+
+"What'n ever are ye, then?" cried Artan, out o' the surprise, never
+thinkin' on gettin' an answer. Yet thrue an' at once came a whisperin'
+like wind in pine forests far off--
+
+"The hammer o' Len."
+
+"An' how'll I get ye back to him, not knowin' where to find him?" asked
+Artan. "Sure, the winds must rise up an' blow me to the end o' the
+rainbow, where he sits, or I'll never get there at all."
+
+The words were scarce past his lips when down across the hills came a
+warm gust o' south wind--the last o' the storm--an' caught him up, still
+clingin' to the hammer, an' swept him upwards till he could see naught
+for mist an' hurryin' clouds. Then came a feelin' o' sinkin', an' a
+sudden jar; an' there he was standin' on green turf, lookin' at white
+mountains, risin' higher nor aught he'd seen, an' between him an' them
+shimmered the rainbow itself, glowin' all colors in the light o' sunset.
+
+"Ay, 'tis aisy seein' where I am," laughed Artan, startin' toward it
+bravely.
+
+For a while he went on, an' at last he came nigh enough to see the
+mighty shape o' Len, standin' waitin' at his forge. An' while night was
+fast comin' on, an' the stars showin' out in the sky over all, yet the
+sunfire was still flamin' up in his smithy, workin' his will at a
+word.
+
+If fear had had place in the heart of Artan, then was time for it, when
+he saw the deep eyes o' Len, like dark sea-water in caves, lookin' far
+an' through him. But never had that come to him, an' without speakin'
+he raised the hammer toward the sthrong knotted hand that claimed it.
+
+"Whist, then!" says Len, graspin' it quick for fear the metal was
+coolin'. "Say naught till I'm done!" With that he beat an' turned the
+shield, an' gave the endin' touches to it. Then, with another big shout,
+he hung it on the rainbow, flashin' an' shinin' till men on earth below
+saw it for Northern Lights in the night sky.
+
+"How came ye here in me forge, Artan, son o' Duallach?" he cried.
+
+"That I know not," spoke out Artan. "When I held yon hammer in hand, an'
+cried on the wind for blowin' me to him that owned it--for no other road
+there was for returnin' it--the warm blast came out o' the south an'
+caught me up here."
+
+"Ay," laughed Len, deep an' hearty. "The winds are at the will o' him
+that handles it; but too great a power is that to be given careless to
+mortal man. What reward will ye have, now? Whether gold, or power above
+other men, or the fairest o' maids for yer wife?"
+
+Then the blood reddened the face of Artan.
+
+"Naught care I for gold," says he. "An' power over men should be for him
+that wins it fair."
+
+"Then 'tis the fairest o' maids ye'll be afther wantin'?" asked Len.
+"Have ye seen such a one?"
+
+"Nay," says Artan. "Dark are the faces in the house o' Duallach, an'
+little to me likin'."
+
+"Then shall ye have one fair as day," says Len. He turned to where the
+shield was hangin', an' from the heart o' that same he plucked a rose o'
+the beaten gold, an' gave it to Artan.
+
+"Cast it in the sea surf at sunrise," says he, "callin'
+'Darthuil!'--then shall ye have yer reward. But one thing mind. Safely
+yer own is she not till first lost an' won back. When ye know not where
+to seek aid in searchin', cry on me name at the sea-coast, an' aid will
+there be for ye if ye come not too late--wind, wave, an' wandherin'
+flame. Never does Len forget. Hold fast yer rose."
+
+As he spoke, again came a gale, chill from the north this time, an'
+whirled Artan past cloud an' above surgin' seas, an' left him on the
+hilltop above the beach at the last hour before the dawnin'.
+
+Quick Artan hastened down the cliff, still graspin' the golden rose, an'
+stood where the little small waves curled over the stones, waitin' for
+the first gleam o' the sun to touch the sea. Hours it seemed to him, but
+minutes it was in truth, before he caught a long breath, raised the
+rose high in air, an' tossed it swift an' sure into the snowy crest of a
+green incomin' wave.
+
+"Darthuil!" he cried, an' the cliff echo made a song of it.
+
+As the drops flew upward in the red dawn an' the breaker swept in, there
+by his side stood a maid with the gold o' the rose in her hair, an' the
+white o' sea-foam in her fair skin, an' the color o' the sunrise in lips
+an' cheek. Blither nor spring, he caught her hand an' led her over the
+hills to the house o' Duallach, they two singin' for joy o' livin' as
+they went.
+
+Now not long had the two been wed (an' welcome were they under the roof
+of Duallach), when Myrdu, that was half-brother to Artan, but older nor
+him, came back from far huntin', ill-pleased at missin' Artan for his
+companion, an' for helpin' him carry the red deer he'd shot.
+
+"'Tis an ill youth," says he, "an' will get no good from lyin' on the
+cliff edge an' lettin' the hunt go by."
+
+"Nay," says Duallach, slow to anger. "Fair fortune has he won, an' the
+favor o' the gods; an' has brought home a bride, fair as the sun at
+noon."
+
+Then was Myrdu half ragin' from bein' jealous; but not wishin' to show
+that same, he called for meat an' dhrink to be brought him in the great
+hall. An' Artan, wishin' to be friendly like, cried out for Darthuil to
+serve his brother. Sure, when Myrdu saw her comin' toward him--shinin'
+among the dark lasses o' Duallach's household like a star in the night
+sky--fury was in his heart for thinkin' that Artan, bein' younger nor
+him, had won what he had not, an' soon he laid plans for stealin' her
+from his brother.
+
+'Twas not many days before word o' this came to the ear o' Duallach; an'
+he, hatin' strife, bade Artan an' Darthuil take horse an' ride swiftly
+southward to the Lough o' the Lone Valley, to dwell on the little island
+in it till evil wishes had passed from the heart o' Myrdu. So Artan,
+mindin' what Len had foretold, yet thinkin' it wiser not to be afther
+losin' Darthuil at all, rode away with her on his left hand when Myrdu
+was sleepin' an' not knowin' what was bein' done.
+
+When he roused an' found them gone, an' that none o' the house would say
+whither, he was in a fine passion; but he made as if he was afther goin'
+huntin', an' took his two fierce hounds an' went off to trace the road
+they'd taken. An' sure enough, 'twas not many hours before he was on
+their path.
+
+Now safer would it have been had Artan told Darthuil the full raison why
+he was takin' her far into the shelter o' forest an' lough o' the
+wildherness; but she, trustin' him, asked naught, thinkin' no evil o'
+livin' man. So scarce had Artan left her in the low cabin on the island
+an' gone off to hunt, than Myrdu pushed through the bushes, leavin' the
+hounds on the shore behind, an' floated himself out to the island on a
+couple o' logs lashed with a thong o' deer-skin. Ay, but Darthuil was
+startled, not dhreamin' why he'd come.
+
+"'Tis Artan is hurt, an' afther sendin' me for ye," says Myrdu, lookin'
+down unaisy like, from not wishin' to meet the rare clear eyes o' her.
+"Come, an' I'll take ye where he lies."
+
+Not waitin' a moment was Darthuil, then, but hurried doin' as she was
+bid, never thinkin' what evil might be in store.
+
+Afther a few hours Artan came back through the trees, an' game a plenty
+he'd found. He pulled out his boat o' skins, an' quick paddled back to
+the island. But there he found no Darthuil; no, nor any sign o' her save
+the little print o' her sandal by the wather's edge.
+
+Then came to his mind the promise o' Len. Never darin' to waste an hour
+searchin' by himself, he ferried his horse across to the mainland,
+mounted, an' pushed for the sea. Never once did he stop for restin'
+till he was standin' where the waves beat over him, where he had cried
+on Darthuil, an' she had come to him.
+
+"Len!" he called. "Yer aidin', Len! Darthuil is stolen from me."
+
+There came a rumblin' o' thunder, an' on the shore stood a great figure,
+like a pillar o' cloud reachin' half to the sky.
+
+"Never safe yer own till lost an' found, I said," came the deep voice.
+"Now I give ye wild servants, a wind an' a wave an' a wandherin' flame
+for helpin' ye to bring her safe again. Mind well that each will obey ye
+but once, so call on them only when yer sharpest need comes. When ye've
+again set the feet o' Darthuil safe in the hall o' Duallach, none can
+take her from ye more. Now follow yer love. 'Tis to the Northland has
+Myrdu carried her. Let him not pass the White Rocks, or wind an' wave
+an' flame will lose power to aid ye. Use yer wit, now, an' use it well."
+
+Artan would have spoken to thank him, but with the last word Len was no
+more there; so he mounted again an' turned to the north; an' behind him
+came the wind, whisperin' over the grass; an' the wave, runnin' up the
+sthream near at hand; an' the flame, creepin' among dhry leaves, but
+settin' fire to naught else, its time not bein' come.
+
+Together they all thraveled the betther part of a long day, an' late on
+Artan saw dust risin' ahead. 'Twas a cloud that Myrdu had raised to hide
+the way he was goin', an' beyond it he was ridin', carryin' Darthuil
+before him on his saddle o' skins, with the two hounds lopin' along
+beside to fright her from tryin' to escape, an' to give warnin' of any
+followin'; while not many miles ahead were the White Rocks, that he was
+pushin' to reach.
+
+On hurried Artan, but his horse was wearied, an' little head could he
+make. Moreover, the cloud o' dust left him uncertain o' what was hid. So
+he thought well, an' chose wind to serve him first.
+
+"Go on, an' blow the dust far away, whisperin' courage to Darthuil the
+while," says he. An' at once the wind sped far ahead, obeyin' his
+command. When the two dogs felt it touch them, they cowered low; but
+Darthuil took heart, knowin' that help was at hand. An' the dust was no
+more hidin' her from Artan, so she waved her hand an' called aloud to
+him to ride in haste.
+
+Then Myrdu, fearin' that he might yet lose her, threw a handful o' twigs
+behind him in the road; an' fallin' they turned into dead trees,
+stoppin' the way on all sides. But Artan well knew the way to clear his
+path.
+
+"Go forward!" he cried to the wandherin' flame, "an' leave not a trace
+o' them!" As he spoke, the flame swept up high in air, roarin' an'
+smokin'; an' in half an instant naught remained o' the logs but a pile
+o' smoldherin' ashes. But still was Myrdu fast nearin' his goal, an' had
+one thing more for helpin'.
+
+He dropped a little sharp knife in the roadway; an' as it fell, it cut
+into the dust, an' there opened a wide, terrible chasm, not to be
+crossed by horse nor man. Then Artan grew clear desperate.
+
+"Wave!" he shouted, "bring Darthuil to me!"
+
+Up then it rose, rollin' forward like flood-tide in spring; an' it
+filled the gulf, an' swept away dogs an' horse an' Myrdu himself, that
+none were heard of from that on; but Darthuil it floated gentle like, as
+she had been a tuft o' thistle-down, back to Artan, waitin' for her.
+
+He caught her an' clasped her close, an' turned his horse, an' never
+halted till he led her safe into the hall o' Duallach, where none might
+steal her from him again. An' there they lived happy all their lives.
+
+But as for the wind an' the wave an' the wandherin' flame, so sweet an'
+fair was Darthuil that ne'er would they go from her to return to Len. To
+the last o' her life the wind blew soft for her when 'twas overly hot
+elsewhere, an' clear cool wather flowed up from the ground to save her
+dhrawin' any from the river, an' fire burned bright on her hearth
+without need o' plenishin'; an' all that for the love o' Darthuil, that
+was made by Len out o' the foam tossed by the wind from the sea-wave,
+an' the wandherin' flame o' the sunrise.
+
+[Illustration: THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 7: Reprinted by special permission from _The Sons O' Cormac_,
+by Aldis Dunbar. Copyright, 1920, by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE[8]
+
+
+ON a bright summer's day, when the sun beat down fiercely upon the heads
+of the people, King Solomon sought the shade of one of his favorite
+gardens. But even where the foliage on the trees was so thick that it
+seemed the sun's rays could not penetrate, it was also hot. Not a breath
+of air was there to fan the monarch's cheek, and he lay down on the
+thick grass and gazed through the branches of the trees at the blue sky.
+
+"This great heat makes me weary," said the King, and in a few minutes he
+had quietly fallen into a deep sleep.
+
+All was still in the beautiful garden, except for the sound of a few
+humming birds, the twittering of the moths whose many-colored wings
+looked more beautiful than ever in the bright sunshine, and the buzzing
+of the bees. But even these sounds grew still as the fierce rays from
+the sky grew hotter until all nature seemed hushed to rest. Only one
+tiny bee was left moving in the garden. It flew steadily from flower to
+flower, sipping the honey, until at length it began to feel overcome by
+the heat.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wonder what is the matter with me," buzzed the little bee.
+"This is the first time I have come out of the hive, and I do feel
+queer. I hope I am not going to faint."
+
+The little bee felt giddy, and after flying round and round dizzily for
+a few minutes it fell and dropped right on to King Solomon's nose.
+Immediately the King awoke with such a start that the little bee was
+frightened almost out of its wits and flew straight back to the hive.
+
+King Solomon sat up and looked round to see what it was that had
+awakened him so rudely. He felt a strange pain at the tip of his nose.
+He rubbed it with his royal forefinger, but the pain increased.
+
+Attendants came rushing towards him and asked him what was the matter.
+
+"I must have been stung on the nose by a bee," said the King angrily.
+"Send for the Lord High Physician and the Keeper of the Court Plaister
+immediately. I cannot have a blister on the tip of my nose. To-morrow I
+am to be visited by the Queen of Sheba, and it will not do to have a
+swollen nose tied up in a sling."
+
+The Lord High Physician came with his many assistants, each carrying a
+box of ointment, or lint, or some other preparation which might be
+required. King Solomon's nose, and especially the tip of it, was
+examined most carefully through a microscope.
+
+"It is almost nothing," said the Lord High Physician reassuringly. "It
+is just a tiny sting from a very little bee which did not leave its
+sting in the wound. It will be healed in an hour or two and the Queen of
+Sheba will not be able to notice that anything at all is the matter
+to-morrow."
+
+"But meanwhile it smarts," said King Solomon. "I am seriously annoyed
+with the little bee. How dared it sting me, King Solomon, monarch of all
+living things on earth, in the air and in the waters. Knows it not that
+I am its Royal Master to whom all homage and respect is due?"
+
+The pain soon ceased, but His Majesty did not like the smell of the
+greasy ointment which was put on his nose, and he determined that the
+bee should be brought before him for trial.
+
+"Place the impudent little bee under arrest at once," he commanded, "and
+bring it before me so that I may hear what it has to say."
+
+"But I know it not," returned the Lord High Chamberlain, to whom the
+command was given.
+
+"Then summon the Queen bee before me in an hour and bid her bring the
+culprit," answered the monarch. "Tell her that I shall hold all the bees
+guilty until the saucy little offender is produced before me."
+
+The order was carried to the hive by one of the butterflies in
+attendance on the King and spread consternation among the bees. Such a
+buzzing there was that the butterfly said:
+
+"Stop making that noise. If the King hears you, it will only make
+matters worse."
+
+The Queen bee promised to obey King Solomon's command, and in an hour
+she made her appearance in state before the great throne. Slowly and
+with much pomp, the Queen bee made her way to King Solomon. She was the
+largest of the bees and was escorted by a bodyguard of twelve female
+bees who cleared the way before her, walking backwards and bowing
+constantly with their faces to her.
+
+King Solomon was surrounded by all his Court which included living
+beings, fairies, demons, spirits, goblins, animals, birds and insects.
+All raised their voices in a loud hurrah when His Majesty took his seat
+on the Throne, and a very strange noise the Court made. The lions
+roared, the serpents hissed, the birds chirped, the fairies sang and the
+demons howled. The goblins that had no voices could only grin.
+
+"Silence!" cried a herald. "The Queen bee is requested to stand forth."
+
+Still attended by her twelve guards, the Queen bee approached the foot
+of the Throne and made obeisance to King Solomon.
+
+"I, thy slave, the Queen bee," she buzzed, "am here at thy bidding,
+mighty ruler, great and wise. Command and thou shalt be obeyed."
+
+"It is well," replied Solomon. "Hast thou brought with thee the culprit,
+the bee that did dare to attack my nose with its sting?"
+
+"I have, your Majesty," answered the Queen bee. "It is a young bee that
+this day did leave the hive for the first time. It has confessed to me.
+It did not attack your Majesty wilfully, but by accident, owing to
+giddiness caused by the heat, and it could not have injured your Majesty
+seriously, because it left not its sting in the wound. Be merciful,
+gracious King."
+
+"Fear not my judgment," said the King. "Bid the bee stand forth."
+
+Tremblingly, the little bee stood at the foot of the Throne and bowed
+three times to King Solomon.
+
+"Knowest thou not," said the King, "that I am thy royal master whose
+person must be held sacred by all living things?"
+
+"Yes, gracious Majesty," buzzed the bee. "Thy slave is aware of this. It
+was but an accident, and it is the nature of thy slave, the bee, who is
+in duty bound to obey thy laws, to thrust forth its sting when in
+danger. I thought I was in danger when I fell."
+
+"So was I, for I was beneath you," returned King Solomon.
+
+"Punish me not," pleaded the bee. "I am but one of your Majesty's
+smallest and humblest slaves, but even I may be of service to your
+Majesty some day."
+
+These words from the little bee made the whole Court laugh. Even the
+goblins which could not speak grinned from ear to ear and rolled their
+big eyes.
+
+"Silence!" commanded the King sternly. "There is naught to laugh at in
+the bee's answer. It pleases me well. Go, thou art free. Some day I may
+need thee."
+
+The little bee bowed its head three times before the King and flew away,
+buzzing happily.
+
+Next day it kept quite close to the Palace.
+
+"I want to see the procession when the Queen of Sheba arrives," it
+said, "and I also must be near the King in case His Majesty may want
+me."
+
+In great state, the beautiful Queen of Sheba, followed by hundreds of
+handsomely robed attendants, approached King Solomon who was seated on
+his Throne, surrounded by all his Court.
+
+"Great and mighty King of Israel," she said, curtseying low, "I have
+heard of thy great wisdom and would fain put it to the test. Hitherto
+all questions put to thee hast thou answered without difficulty. But I
+have sworn to puzzle thy wondrous wisdom with my woman's wit. Be
+heedful."
+
+"Beauteous Queen of Sheba," returned King Solomon, rising and bowing in
+return to her curtsey, "thou art as witty as thou art fair, and if thou
+art successful in puzzling me, thy triumph shall be duly rewarded. I
+will load thee with rich presents and proclaim thy wit and wisdom to the
+whole world."
+
+"I accept thy challenge," replied the Queen, "and at once."
+
+Behind Her Majesty stood two beautiful girl attendants, each holding a
+bouquet of flowers. The Queen of Sheba took the flowers, and holding a
+bouquet in each hand, said to King Solomon:
+
+"Tell me, thou who art the wisest man on earth, which of these bunches
+of flowers is real and which artificial."
+
+"They are both beautiful and their fragrance delicious in the extreme,"
+replied King Solomon.
+
+"Ah," said the Queen, "but only one bunch has fragrance. Which is it?"
+
+King Solomon looked at the flowers. Both bunches looked exactly alike.
+From where he sat, it was impossible to detect any difference. He did
+not answer at once, and he knit his brows as if perplexed. The courtiers
+also looked troubled. Never before had they seen the King hesitate.
+
+"Is it impossible for your Majesty to answer the question?" the Queen
+asked.
+
+Solomon shook his head and smiled.
+
+"Never yet has a problem baffled me," he said. "Your Majesty shall be
+answered, and correctly."
+
+"And at once," said the Queen of Sheba imperiously.
+
+"So be it," answered King Solomon, gazing thoughtfully round and raising
+his magic scepter.
+
+Immediately he heard what no one else did, the faint buzzing of the tiny
+wings of the little bee which had settled on one of the window panes of
+the Palace.
+
+"Bid that window be opened," he commanded, pointing to it with his
+scepter, "and let the bee enter to obey my wish."
+
+The window was promptly opened, and in flew the little bee. Straight
+towards the Queen of Sheba it flew, and now its buzzing could be heard
+by all the courtiers, who eagerly watched its flight through the air.
+Without any hesitation, it settled on the bouquet in the Queen's left
+hand.
+
+"Thou hast my answer, fair Queen of Sheba," said King Solomon, rising,
+"given to thee by one of the tiniest of my subjects. It has settled on
+the flowers that are natural. The bouquet in your right hand is made by
+human hands."
+
+The whole Court applauded the monarch's wisdom in bidding the little bee
+help him out of his difficulty.
+
+"Your Majesty is indeed the wisest man on earth," said the Queen.
+
+"Thanks, my little friend," said the King to the bee, and it flew away,
+buzzing merrily.
+
+[Illustration: THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 8: From _Jewish Fairy Tales and Fables,_ by Aunt Naomi. Robert
+Scott, London.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END[9]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn't in my
+time, nor in your time, nor in any one else's time, there was a girl
+whose mother had died, and her father married again. And her stepmother
+hated her because she was more beautiful than herself, and she was very
+cruel to her. She used to make her do all the servant's work, and never
+let her have any peace.
+
+At last, one day, the stepmother thought to get rid of her altogether;
+so she handed her a sieve and said to her: "Go, fill it at the Well of
+the World's End and bring it home to me full, or woe betide you." For
+she thought she would never be able to find the Well of the World's End,
+and, if she did, how could she bring home a sieve full of water?
+
+Well, the girl started off, and asked every one she met to tell her
+where was the Well of the World's End. But nobody knew, and she didn't
+know what to do, when a queer little old woman, all bent double, told
+her where it was, and how she could get to it. So she did what the old
+woman told her, and at last arrived at the Well of the World's End. But
+when she dipped the sieve in the cold, cold water, it all ran out again.
+She tried and she tried again, but every time it was the same; and at
+last she sat down and cried as if her heart would break.
+
+Suddenly she heard a croaking voice, and she looked up and saw a great
+frog with goggle eyes looking at her and speaking to her.
+
+"What's the matter, dearie?" it said.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said, "my stepmother has sent me all this long
+way to fill this sieve with water from the Well of the World's End, and
+I can't fill it no how at all."
+
+"Well," said the frog, "if you promise me to do whatever I bid you for a
+whole night long, I'll tell you how to fill it."
+
+So the girl agreed, and the frog said:
+
+    "Stop it with moss and daub it with clay,
+    And then it will carry the water away";
+
+and then it gave a hop, skip, and a jump, and went flop into the Well of
+the World's End.
+
+So the girl looked about for some moss, and lined the bottom of the
+sieve with it, and over that she put some clay, and then she dipped it
+once again into the Well of the World's End; and this time the water
+didn't run out, and she turned to go away.
+
+Just then the frog popped up its head out of the Well of the World's
+End, and said: "Remember your promise."
+
+"All right," said the girl; for, thought she, "what harm can a frog do
+me?"
+
+So she went back to her stepmother, and brought the sieve full of water
+from the Well of the World's End. The stepmother was angry as angry, but
+she said nothing at all.
+
+That very evening they heard something tap-tapping at the door low down,
+and a voice cried out:
+
+    "Open the door, my hinny, my heart,
+      Open the door, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words that you and I spoke,
+      Down in the meadow, at the World's End Well."
+
+"Whatever can that be?" cried out the stepmother, and the girl had to
+tell her all about it, and what she had promised the frog.
+
+"Girls must keep their promises," said the stepmother. "Go and open the
+door this instant." For she was glad the girl would have to obey a nasty
+frog.
+
+So the girl went and opened the door, and there was the frog from the
+Well of the World's End. And it hopped, and it hopped, and it jumped,
+till it reached the girl, and then it said:
+
+    "Lift me to your knee, my hinny, my heart;
+      Lift me to your knee, my own darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      Down in the meadow by the World's End Well."
+
+But the girl didn't like to, till her stepmother said: "Lift it up this
+instant, you hussy! Girls must keep their promises!"
+
+So at last she lifted the frog up on to her lap, and it lay there for a
+time, till at last it said:
+
+    "Give me some supper, my hinny, my heart,
+      Give me some supper, my darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      In the meadow, by the Well of the World's End."
+
+Well, she didn't mind doing that, so she got it a bowl of milk and
+bread, and fed it well. And when the frog had finished, it said:
+
+    "Go with me to bed, my hinny, my heart,
+      Go with me to bed, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words you spake to me,
+      Down by the cold well, so weary."
+
+But that the girl wouldn't do, till her stepmother said: "Do what you
+promised, girl; girls must keep their promises. Do what you're bid, or
+out you go, you and your froggie."
+
+So the girl took the frog with her to bed, and kept it as far away from
+her as she could. Well, just as the day was beginning to break what
+should the frog say but:
+
+    "Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,
+      Chop off my head, my own darling;
+    Remember the promise you made to me,
+      Down by the cold well so weary."
+
+At first the girl wouldn't, for she thought of what the frog had done
+for her at the Well of the World's End. But when the frog said the words
+over again, she went and took an ax and chopped off its head, and lo!
+and behold, there stood before her a handsome young prince, who told her
+that he had been enchanted by a wicked magician, and he could never be
+unspelled till some girl would do his bidding for a whole night, and
+chop off his head at the end of it.
+
+The stepmother was surprised indeed when she found the young prince
+instead of the nasty frog, and she wasn't best pleased, you may be sure,
+when the prince told her that he was going to marry her stepdaughter
+because she had unspelled him. But married they were, and went away to
+live in the castle of the king, his father, and all the stepmother had
+to console her was, that it was all through her that her stepdaughter
+was married to a prince.
+
+[Illustration: WINGS]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 9: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers, New York and London.]
+
+
+
+
+WINGS[10]
+
+
+A PEASANT girl was feeding geese, and she wept. The farmer's daughter
+came by and asked, "What are you blubbering about?"
+
+"I haven't got any wings," cried the peasant girl. "Oh, I wish I could
+grow some wings."
+
+"You stupid!" said the farmer's daughter. "Of course you haven't got
+wings. What do you want wings for?"
+
+"I want to fly up into the sky and sing my little songs there," answered
+the little peasant girl.
+
+Then the farmer's daughter was angry, and said again, "You stupid! How
+can you ever expect to grow wings? Your father's only a farm-laborer.
+They might grow on me, but not on you."
+
+When the farmer's daughter had said that, she went away to the well,
+sprinkled some water on her shoulders, and stood out among the
+vegetables in the garden, waiting for her wings to sprout. She really
+believed the sun would bring them out quite soon.
+
+But in a little while a merchant's daughter came along the road and
+called out to the girl who was trying to grow wings in the garden, "What
+are you doing standing out there, red face?"
+
+"I am growing wings," said the farmer's daughter. "I want to fly."
+
+Then the merchant's daughter laughed loudly, and cried out, "You stupid
+farm-girl; if you had wings they would only be a weight on your back."
+
+The merchant's daughter thought she knew who was most likely to grow
+wings. And when she went back to the town where she lived she bought
+some olive-oil and rubbed it on her shoulders, and went out into the
+garden and waited for her wings to grow.
+
+By and by a young lady of the Court came along, and said to her, "What
+are you doing out there, my child?"
+
+When the tradesman's daughter said that she was growing wings, the young
+lady's face flushed and she looked quite vexed.
+
+"That's not for you to do," she said. "It is only real ladies who can
+grow wings."
+
+And she went on home, and when she got indoors she filled a tub with
+milk and bathed herself in it, and then went into her garden and stood
+in the sun and waited for her wings to come out. Presently a princess
+passed by the garden, and when she saw the young lady standing there she
+sent a servant to inquire what she was doing. The servant came back and
+told her that as the young lady had wanted to be able to fly she had
+bathed herself in milk and was waiting for her wings to grow.
+
+The princess laughed scornfully and exclaimed, "What a foolish girl!
+She's giving herself trouble for nothing. No one who is not a princess
+can ever grow wings."
+
+The princess turned the matter over in her mind, and when she arrived at
+her father's palace she went into her chamber, anointed herself with
+sweet-smelling perfumes, and then went down into the palace garden to
+wait for her wings to come.
+
+Very soon all the young girls in the country round about went out into
+their gardens and stood among the vegetables so that they might get
+wings.
+
+The Fairy of the Wings heard about this strange happening and she flew
+down to earth, and, looking at the waiting girls, she said, "If I give
+you all wings and let you all go flying into the sky, who will want to
+stay at home to cook the porridge and look after the children? I had
+better give wings only to one of you, namely, to her who wanted them
+first of all."
+
+So wings grew from the little peasant girl's shoulders, and she was able
+to fly up into the sky and sing.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 10: From _The Sweet-Scented Name,_ by Fedor Sologub. Edited by
+Stephen Graham. Constable & Company, London.]
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO[11]
+
+
+IN an old time, long ago, when the fairies were in the world, there
+lived a little girl so uncommonly fair and pleasant of look, that they
+called her Snowflower. This girl was good as well as pretty. No one had
+ever seen her frown or heard her say a cross word, and young and old
+were glad when they saw her coming.
+
+Snowflower had no relation in the world but a very old grandmother. . . .
+Every evening, when the fire was heaped with the sticks she had
+gathered till it blazed and crackled up the cottage chimney, Dame
+Frostyface set aside her wheel, and told her a new story. Often did the
+little girl wonder where her grandmother had gathered so many stories,
+but she soon learned that. One sunny morning, at the time of the
+swallows' coming, the dame rose up, put on the gray hood and mantle in
+which she carried her yarn to the fairs, and said, "My child, I am going
+a long journey to visit an aunt of mine, who lives far in the north
+country. I cannot take you with me, because my aunt is the crossest
+woman alive, and never liked young people: but the hens will lay eggs
+for you; there is barley-meal in the barrel; and, as you have been a
+good girl, I'll tell you what to do when you feel lonely. Lay your head
+gently down on the cushion of the arm-chair, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, tell me a story.' It was made by a cunning fairy, who lived
+in the forest when I was young, and she gave it to me because she knew
+nobody could keep what they got hold of better. Remember, you must never
+ask a story more than once in the day; and if there be any occasion to
+travel, you have only to seat yourself in it, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, take me such a way.' It will carry you wherever you wish;
+but mind to oil the wheels before you set out, for I have sat on it
+these forty years in that same corner."
+
+Having said this, Dame Frostyface set forth to see her aunt in the north
+country. Snowflower gathered firing and looked after the hens and cat as
+usual. She baked herself a cake or two of the barley-meal; but when the
+evening fell the cottage looked lonely. Then Snowflower remembered her
+grandmother's words, and, laying her head gently down, she said, "Chair
+of my grandmother, tell me a story."
+
+Scarce were the words spoken, when a clear voice from under the velvet
+cushion . . . said: _"Listen to the story of the Christmas Cuckoo!"_
+
+
+"Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the north
+country, a certain village; all its inhabitants were poor, for their
+fields were barren, and they had little trade, but the poorest of them
+all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's
+craft, and had but one stall between them. It was a hut built of clay
+and wattles. The door was low and always open, for there was no window.
+The roof did not entirely keep out the rain, and the only thing
+comfortable about it was a wide hearth, for which the brothers could
+never find wood enough to make a sufficient fire. There they worked in
+most brotherly friendship, though with little encouragement.
+
+"The people of that village were not extravagant in shoes, and better
+cobblers than Scrub and Spare might be found. Spiteful people said there
+were no shoes so bad that they would not be worse for their mending.
+Nevertheless Scrub and Spare managed to live between their own trade, a
+small barley field, and a cottage garden, till one unlucky day when a
+new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in the capital city of
+the kingdom, and, by his own account, cobbled for the queen and the
+princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he set up his stall
+in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon found out that
+one patch of his would wear two of the brothers'. In short, all the
+mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new cobbler. The season
+had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and the cabbages
+never half closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor that winter,
+and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but a barley loaf,
+a piece of rusty bacon, and some small beer of their own brewing. Worse
+than that, the snow was very deep, and they could get no firewood. Their
+hut stood at the end of the village, beyond it spread the bleak moor,
+now all white and silent; but that moor had once been a forest, great
+roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from the soil
+and laid bare by the winds and rains--one of these, a rough gnarled log,
+lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and Spare said to
+his brother:
+
+"'Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?
+Let us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm.'
+
+"'No,' said Scrub; 'it's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,
+that root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet.'
+
+"'Hard or not we must have a fire,' replied Spare. 'Come, brother, help
+me in with it. Poor as we are, there is nobody in the village will have
+such a yule log as ours.'
+
+"Scrub liked a little grandeur, and in hopes of having a fine yule log,
+both brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between
+pulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and
+beginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers. In high glee, the
+cobblers sat down to their beer and bacon. The door was shut, for there
+was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside; but the hut, strewn
+with fir boughs, and ornamented with holly, looked cheerful as the ruddy
+blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.
+
+"'Long life and good fortune to ourselves, brother!' said Spare. 'I hope
+you will drink that toast, and may we never have a worse fire on
+Christmas--but what is that?'
+
+"Spare set down the drinking-horn, and the brothers listened astonished,
+for out of the blazing root they heard, 'Cuckoo! cuckoo!' as plain as
+ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on a May morning.
+
+"'It is something bad,' said Scrub, terribly frightened.
+
+"'May be not,' said Spare; and out of the deep hole at the side which
+the fire had not reached flew a large gray cuckoo, and lit on the table
+before them. Much as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still
+more so when it said:
+
+"'Good gentlemen, what season is this?'
+
+"'It's Christmas,' said Spare.
+
+"'Then a merry Christmas to you!' said the cuckoo. 'I went to sleep in
+the hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till
+the heat of your fire made me think it was summer again; but now since
+you have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring
+comes around--I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my
+travels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your
+trouble.'
+
+"'Stay, and welcome,' said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were
+something bad or not; 'I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch. But
+you must be hungry after that long sleep?--here is a slice of barley
+bread. Come help us to keep Christmas!'
+
+"The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from the brown jug, for he
+would take no beer, and flew into a snug hole which Spare scooped for
+him in the thatch of the hut.
+
+"Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and
+the days passed he forgot his fears. So the snow melted, the heavy rains
+came, the cold grew less, the days lengthened, and one sunny morning the
+brothers were awakened by the cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them
+know the spring had come.
+
+"'Now I'm going on my travels,' said the bird, 'over the world to tell
+men of the spring. There is no country where trees bud or flowers bloom,
+that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me another slice
+of barley bread to keep me on my journey, and tell me what present I
+shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end.'
+
+"Scrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a
+slice, their store of barley-meal being low; but his mind was occupied
+with what present would be most prudent to ask: at length a lucky
+thought struck him.
+
+"'Good master cuckoo,' said he, 'if a great traveler who sees all the
+world like you, could know of any place where diamonds or pearls were to
+be found, one of a tolerable size brought in your beak would help such
+poor men as my brother and I to provide something better than barley
+bread for your next entertainment.'
+
+"'I know nothing of diamonds or pearls,' said the cuckoo; 'they are in
+the hearts of rocks and the sands of rivers. My knowledge is only of
+that which grows on the earth. But there are two trees hard by the well
+that lies at the world's end--one of them is called the golden tree, for
+its leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they fall into the well
+with a sound like scattered coin and I know not what becomes of them. As
+for the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise,
+and some the merry tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one of
+them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make
+themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace.'
+
+"'Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree,' cried Spare.
+
+"'Now, brother, don't be a fool!' said Scrub. 'Think of the leaves of
+beaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!'
+
+"Before another word could be spoken, the cuckoo had flown out of the
+open door, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow. The
+brothers were poorer than ever that year; nobody would send them a
+single shoe to mend. The new cobbler said, in scorn, they should come to
+be his apprentices; and Scrub and Spare would have left the village but
+for their barley field, their cabbage garden, and a certain maid called
+Fairfeather, whom both the cobblers had courted for seven years without
+even knowing which she meant to favor.
+
+"Sometimes Fairfeather seemed inclined to Scrub, sometimes she smiled on
+Spare; but the brothers never disputed for that. They sowed their
+barley, planted their cabbage, and now that their trade was gone, worked
+in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living. So the
+seasons came and passed: spring, summer, harvest, and winter followed
+each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of the
+latter, Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that Fairfeather
+thought them beneath her notice. Old neighbors forgot to invite them to
+wedding feasts or merrymaking; and they thought the cuckoo had forgotten
+them too, when at daybreak, on the first of April, they heard a hard
+beak knocking at their door, and a voice crying:
+
+"'Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents.'
+
+"Spare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo, carrying on one
+side of his bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the north
+country; and in the other, one like that of the common laurel, only it
+had a fresher green.
+
+"'Here,' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, 'it
+is a long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley
+bread, for I must tell the north country that the spring has come.'
+
+"Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut
+from their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands
+before, and he could not help exulting over his brother.
+
+"'See the wisdom of my choice!' he said, holding up the large leaf of
+gold. 'As for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge. I wonder a
+sensible bird would carry the like so far.'
+
+"'Good master cobbler,' cried the cuckoo, finishing the slice, 'your
+conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother be
+disappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for
+your hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of
+you whichever leaf you desire.'
+
+"'Darling cuckoo!' cried Scrub, 'bring me a golden one;' and Spare,
+looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it were a
+crown-jewel, said:
+
+"'Be sure to bring me one from the merry tree,' and away flew the
+cuckoo.
+
+"'This is the Feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday,'
+said Scrub. 'Did ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting
+rich! Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and
+poverty!' So he went on, but Spare laughed at him, and answered with
+quaint old proverbs concerning the cares that come with gold, till
+Scrub, at length getting angry, vowed his brother was not fit to live
+with a respectable man; and, taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden
+leaf, he left the wattle hut, and went to tell the villagers.
+
+"They were astonished at the folly of Spare and charmed with Scrub's
+good sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told
+that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring. The new cobbler
+immediately took him into partnership; the greatest people sent him
+their shoes to mend; Fairfeather smiled graciously upon him, and in the
+course of that summer they were married, with a grand wedding feast, at
+which the whole village danced, except Spare, who was not invited,
+because the bride could not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother
+thought him a disgrace to the family.
+
+"Indeed, all who heard the story concluded that Spare must be mad, and
+nobody would associate with him but a lame tinker, a beggar-boy, and a
+poor woman reputed to be a witch because she was old and ugly. As for
+Scrub, he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close by
+that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to
+everybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat for holidays, and a fat
+goose for dinner every wedding-day. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown
+and fine blue ribands; but neither she nor Scrub were content, for to
+buy this grandeur the golden leaf had to be broken and parted with piece
+by piece, so the last morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with
+another.
+
+"Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage garden. (Scrub
+had got the barley field because he was the eldest.) Every day his coat
+grew more ragged, and the hut more weatherbeaten; but people remarked
+that he never looked sad nor sour; and the wonder was, that from the
+time they began to keep his company, the tinker grew kinder to the poor
+ass with which he traveled the country, the beggar-boy kept out of
+mischief, and the old woman was never cross to her cat or angry with the
+children.
+
+"Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping at their doors with the
+golden leaf to Scrub and the green to Spare. Fairfeather would have
+entertained him nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some
+notion of persuading him to bring two gold leaves instead of one; but
+the cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying he was not
+fit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where he slept so
+snugly from Christmas till spring.
+
+"Scrub spent the golden leaves, and Spare kept the merry ones; and I
+know not how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great
+lord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood
+on the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep
+moat. All the country, as far as one could see from the highest turret,
+belonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and
+would not have come then, only he was melancholy. The cause of his grief
+was that he had been prime-minister at court, and in high favor, till
+somebody told the crown-prince that he had spoken disrespectfully
+concerning the turning out of his royal highness's toes, and the king
+that he did not lay on taxes enough, whereon the north country lord was
+turned out of office, and banished to his own estate. There he lived for
+some weeks in very bad temper. The servants said nothing would please
+him, and the villagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise
+their rents; but one day in the harvest time his lordship chanced to
+meet Spare gathering water cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into
+talk with the cobbler.
+
+"How it was nobody could tell, but from the hour of that discourse the
+great lord cast away his melancholy: he forgot his lost office and his
+court enemies, the king's taxes and the crown-prince's toes, and went
+about with a noble train hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall,
+where all travelers were entertained and all the poor were welcome. This
+strange story spread through the north country, and great company came
+to the cobbler's hut--rich men who had lost their money, poor men who
+had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had gone
+out of fashion, all came to talk with Spare, and whatever their troubles
+had been, all went home merry. The rich gave him presents, the poor gave
+him thanks. Spare's coat ceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his
+cabbage, and the villagers began to think there was some sense in him.
+
+"By this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.
+There were a great many discontented people there besides the king, who
+had lately fallen into ill-humor because a neighboring princess, with
+seven islands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son. So a royal
+messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond ring, and a
+command that he should repair to court immediately.
+
+"'To-morrow is the first of April,' said Spare, 'and I will go with you
+two hours after sunrise.'
+
+"The messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at
+sunrise with the merry leaf.
+
+"'Court is a fine place,' he said when the cobbler told him he was
+going; 'but I cannot come there, they would lay snares and catch me; so
+be careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell
+slice of barley bread."
+
+"Spare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of his
+company; but he gave him a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart
+in former times, it was so thick and large; and having sewed up the
+leaves in the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the
+messenger on his way to court.
+
+"His coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the
+king could see in such a common-looking man; but scarce had his majesty
+conversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands
+were forgotten, and orders given that a feast for all comers should be
+spread in the banquet hall. The princes of the blood, the great lords
+and ladies, ministers of state, and judges of the land, after that
+discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the lighter grew their
+hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at court. The lords
+forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes and
+ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no favor.
+
+"As for Spare, he had a Chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat
+at the king's table; one sent him rich robes and another costly jewels;
+but in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,
+which the palace servants thought remarkably mean. One day the king's
+attention being drawn to it by the chief page, his majesty inquired why
+Spare didn't give it to a beggar. But the cobbler answered:
+
+"'High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and
+velvet came--I find it easier to wear than the court cut; moreover, it
+serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday
+garment.'
+
+"The king thought this a wise speech, and commanded that no one should
+find fault with the leathern doublet. So things went, till tidings of
+his brother's good fortune reached Scrub in the moorland cottage on
+another first of April, when the cuckoo came with two golden leaves,
+because he had none to carry for Spare.
+
+"'Think of that!' said Fairfeather. 'Here we are spending our lives in
+this humdrum place, and Spare making his fortune at court with two or
+three paltry green leaves! What would they say to our golden ones? Let
+us pack up and make our way to the king's palace; I'm sure he will make
+you a lord and me a lady of honor, not to speak of all the fine clothes
+and presents we shall have.'
+
+"Scrub thought this excellent reasoning, and their packing up began: but
+it was soon found that the cottage contained few things fit for carrying
+to court. Fairfeather could not think of her wooden bowls, spoons, and
+trenchers being seen there. Scrub considered his lasts and awls better
+left behind, as without them, he concluded, no one would suspect him of
+being a cobbler. So putting on their holiday clothes, Fairfeather took
+her looking-glass and Scrub his drinking horn, which happened to have a
+very thin rim of silver, and each carrying a golden leaf carefully
+wrapped up that none might see it till they reached the palace, the pair
+set out in great expectation.
+
+"How far Scrub and Fairfeather journeyed I cannot say, but when the sun
+was high and warm at noon, they came into a wood both tired and hungry.
+
+"'If I had known it was so far to court,' said Scrub, 'I would have
+brought the end of that barley loaf which we left in the cupboard.'
+
+"'Husband,' said Fairfeather, 'you shouldn't have such mean thoughts:
+how could one eat barley bread on the way to a palace? Let us rest
+ourselves under this tree, and look at our golden leaves to see if they
+are safe.' In looking at the leaves, and talking of their fine
+prospects, Scrub and Fairfeather did not perceive that a very thin old
+woman had slipped from behind the tree, with a long staff in her hand
+and a great wallet by her side.
+
+"'Noble lord and lady,' she said, 'for I know ye are such by your
+voices, though my eyes are dim and my hearing none of the sharpest, will
+ye condescend to tell me where I may find some water to mix a bottle of
+mead which I carry in my wallet, because it is too strong for me?'
+
+"As the old woman spoke, she pulled out a large wooden bottle such as
+shepherds used in the ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together,
+and having a small wooden cup hanging from its handle.
+
+"'Perhaps ye will do me the favor to taste,' she said. 'It is only made
+of the best honey. I have also cream cheese, and a wheaten loaf here, if
+such honorable persons as you would eat the like.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather became very condescending after this speech. They
+were now sure that there must be some appearance of nobility about them;
+besides, they were very hungry, and having hastily wrapped up the golden
+leaves, they assured the old woman they were not at all proud,
+notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left behind them in the
+north country, and would willingly help to lighten the wallet. The old
+woman could scarcely be persuaded to sit down for pure humility, but at
+length she did, and before the wallet was half empty, Scrub and
+Fairfeather firmly believed that there must be something remarkably
+noble-looking about them. This was not entirely owing to her ingenious
+discourse. The old woman was a wood-witch; her name was Buttertongue;
+and all her time was spent in making mead, which, being boiled with
+curious herbs and spells, had the power of making all who drank it fall
+asleep and dream with their eyes open. She had two dwarfs of sons; one
+was named Spy, and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother went they
+were not far behind; and whoever tasted her mead was sure to be robbed
+by the dwarfs.
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against the old tree. The cobbler had
+a lump of cheese in his hand; his wife held fast a hunk of bread. Their
+eyes and mouths were both open, but they were dreaming of great grandeur
+at court, when the old woman raised her shrill voice--
+
+"'What ho, my sons! come here and carry home the harvest.'
+
+"No sooner had she spoken, than the two little dwarfs darted out of the
+neighboring thicket.
+
+"'Idle boys!' cried the mother, 'what have ye done to-day to help our
+living?'
+
+"'I have been to the city,' said Spy, 'and could see nothing. These are
+hard times for us--everybody minds their business so contentedly since
+that cobbler came; but here is a leathern doublet which his page threw
+out of the window; it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was
+not idle.' And he tossed down Spare's doublet, with the merry leaves in
+it, which he had carried like a bundle on his little back.
+
+"To explain how Spy came by it, I must tell you that the forest was not
+far from the great city where Spare lived in such esteem. All things had
+gone well with the cobbler till the king thought that it was quite
+unbecoming to see such a worthy man without a servant. His majesty,
+therefore, to let all men understand his royal favor toward Spare,
+appointed one of his own pages to wait upon him. The name of this youth
+was Tinseltoes, and, though he was the seventh of the king's pages,
+nobody in all the court had grander notions. Nothing could please him
+that had not gold or silver about it, and his grandmother feared he
+would hang himself for being appointed page to a cobbler. As for Spare,
+if anything could have troubled him, this token of his majesty's
+kindness would have done it.
+
+"The honest man had been so used to serve himself that the page was
+always in the way, but his merry leaves came to his assistance; and, to
+the great surprise of his grandmother, Tinseltoes took wonderfully to
+the new service. Some said it was because Spare gave him nothing to do
+but play at bowls all day on the palace-green. Yet one thing grieved the
+heart of Tinseltoes, and that was his master's leathern doublet, but for
+it he was persuaded people would never remember that Spare had been a
+cobbler, and the page took a great deal of pains to let him see how
+unfashionable it was at court; but Spare answered Tinseltoes as he had
+done the king, and at last, finding nothing better would do, the page
+got up one fine morning earlier than his master, and tossed the leathern
+doublet out of the back window into a certain lane where Spy found it,
+and brought it to his mother.
+
+"'That nasty thing!' said the old woman; 'where is the good in it?'
+
+"By this time, Pounce had taken everything of value from Scrub and
+Fairfeather--the looking-glass, the silver-rimmed horn, the husband's
+scarlet coat, the wife's gay mantle, and, above all, the golden leaves,
+which so rejoiced old Buttertongue and her sons, that they threw the
+leathern doublet over the sleeping cobbler for a jest, and went off to
+their hut in the heart of the forest.
+
+"The sun was going down when Scrub and Fairfeather awoke from dreaming
+that they had been made a lord and a lady, and sat clothed in silk and
+velvet, feasting with the king in his palace-hall. It was a great
+disappointment to find their golden leaves and all their best things
+gone. Scrub tore his hair, and vowed to take the old woman's life, while
+Fairfeather lamented sore; but Scrub, feeling cold for want of his coat,
+put on the leathern doublet without asking or caring whence it came.
+
+"Scarcely was it buttoned on when a change came over him; he addressed
+such merry discourse to Fairfeather, that, instead of lamentations, she
+made the wood ring with laughter. Both busied themselves in getting up a
+hut of boughs, in which Scrub kindled a fire with a flint and steel,
+which, together with his pipe, he had brought unknown to Fairfeather,
+who had told him the like was never heard of at court. Then they found a
+pheasant's nest at the root of an old oak, made a meal of roasted eggs,
+and went to sleep on a heap of long green grass which they had gathered,
+with nightingales singing all night long in the old trees about them. So
+it happened that Scrub and Fairfeather stayed day after day in the
+forest, making their hut larger and more comfortable against the winter,
+living on wild birds' eggs and berries, and never thinking of their lost
+golden leaves, or their journey to court.
+
+"In the meantime Spare had got up and missed his doublet. Tinseltoes, of
+course, said he knew nothing about it. The whole palace was searched,
+and every servant questioned, till all the court wondered why such a
+fuss was made about an old leathern doublet. That very day things came
+back to their old fashion. Quarrels began among the lords, and
+jealousies among the ladies. The king said his subjects did not pay him
+half enough taxes, the queen wanted more jewels, the servants took to
+their old bickerings and got up some new ones. Spare found himself
+getting wonderfully dull, and very much out of place: nobles began to
+ask what business a cobbler had at the king's table, and his majesty
+ordered the palace chronicles to be searched for a precedent. The
+cobbler was too wise to tell all he had lost with that doublet, but
+being by this time somewhat familiar with court customs, he proclaimed a
+reward of fifty gold pieces to any who would bring him news concerning
+it.
+
+"Scarcely was this made known in the city, when the gates and outer
+courts of the palace were filled by men, women, and children, some
+bringing leathern doublets of every cut and color; some with tales of
+what they had heard and seen in their walks about the neighborhood; and
+so much news concerning all sorts of great people came out of these
+stories, that lords and ladies ran to the king with complaints of Spare
+as a speaker of slander; and his majesty, being now satisfied that there
+was no example in all the palace records of such a retainer, issued a
+decree banishing the cobbler for ever from court, and confiscating all
+his goods in favor of Tinseltoes.
+
+"That royal edict was scarcely published before the page was in full
+possession of his rich chamber, his costly garments, and all the
+presents the courtiers had given him; while Spare, having no longer the
+fifty pieces of gold to give, was glad to make his escape out of the
+back window, for fear of the nobles, who vowed to be revenged on him,
+and the crowd, who were prepared to stone him for cheating them about
+his doublet.
+
+"The window from which Spare let himself down with a strong rope, was
+that from which Tinseltoes had tossed the doublet, and as the cobbler
+came down late in the twilight, a poor woodman, with a heavy load of
+fagots, stopped and stared at him in great astonishment.
+
+"'What's the matter, friend?' said Spare. 'Did you never see a man
+coming down from a back window before?'
+
+"'Why,' said the woodman, 'the last morning I passed here a leathern
+doublet came out of that very window, and I'll be bound you are the
+owner of it.'
+
+"'That I am, friend,' said the cobbler. 'Can you tell me which way that
+doublet went?'
+
+"'As I walked on,' said the woodman, 'a dwarf, called Spy, bundled it up
+and ran off to his mother in the forest.'
+
+"'Honest friend,' said Spare, taking off the last of his fine clothes (a
+grass-green mantle edged with gold), I'll give you this if you will
+follow the dwarf, and bring me back my doublet.'
+
+"'It would not be good to carry fagots in,' said the woodman. 'But if
+you want back your doublet, the road to the forest lies at the end of
+this lane,' and he trudged away.
+
+"Determined to find his doublet, and sure that neither crowd nor
+courtiers could catch him in the forest, Spare went on his way, and was
+soon among the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he see.
+Moreover, the night came on; the wood was dark and tangled, but here and
+there the moon shone through its alleys, the great owls flitted about,
+and the nightingales sang. So he went on, hoping to find some place of
+shelter. At last the red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket,
+led him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, as if there was
+nothing to fear, and within he saw his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a
+bed of grass, at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; while
+Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited rushes, sat roasting pheasants'
+eggs by the fire.
+
+"'Good evening, mistress,' said Spare, stepping in.
+
+"The blaze shone on him, but so changed was her brother-in-law with his
+court-life, that Fairfeather did not know him, and she answered far
+more courteously than was her wont.
+
+"'Good evening, master. Whence come ye so late? but speak low, for my
+good man has sorely tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep,
+as you see, before supper!'
+
+"'A good rest to him,' said Spare, perceiving he was not known. 'I come
+from the court for a day's hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.'
+
+"'Sit down and have a share of our supper,' said Fairfeather, 'I will
+put some more eggs in the ashes; and tell me the news of court--I used
+to think of it long ago when I was young and foolish.'
+
+"'Did you never go there?' said the cobbler. 'So fair a dame as you
+would make the ladies marvel.'
+
+"'You are pleased to flatter,' said Fairfeather; 'but my husband has a
+brother there, and we left our moorland village to try our fortune also.
+An old woman enticed us with fair words and strong drink at the entrance
+of this forest, where we fell asleep and dreamt of great things; but
+when we woke, everything had been robbed from us--my looking-glass, my
+scarlet cloak, my husband's Sunday coat; and, in place of all, the
+robbers left him that old leathern doublet, which he has worn ever
+since, and never was so merry in all his life, though we live in this
+poor hut.'
+
+"'It is a shabby doublet, that,' said Spare, taking up the garment, and
+seeing that it was his own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its
+lining. 'It would be good for hunting in, however--your husband would be
+glad to part with it, I dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak;'
+and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned on the doublet, much to
+Fairfeather's delight, who ran and shook Scrub, crying--"'Husband!
+husband! rise and see what a good bargain I have made.'
+
+"Scrub gave one closing snore, and muttered something about the root
+being hard; but he rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother, and said--
+
+"'Spare, is that really you? How did you like the court, and have you
+made your fortune?'
+
+"'That I have, brother,' said Spare, 'in getting back my own good
+leathern doublet. Come, let us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this
+night. In the morning we will return to our own old hut, at the end of
+the moorland village where the Christmas Cuckoo will come and bring us
+leaves.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the morning they all returned, and
+found the old hut little the worse for wear and weather. The neighbors
+came about them to ask the news of court, and see if they had made their
+fortune. Everybody was astonished to find the three poorer than ever,
+but somehow they liked to go back to the hut. Spare brought out the
+lasts and awls he had hidden in a corner; Scrub and he began their old
+trade, and the whole north country found out that there never were such
+cobblers.
+
+"They mended the shoes of lords and ladies as well as the common people;
+everybody was satisfied. Their custom increased from day to day, and all
+that were disappointed, discontented, or unlucky, came to the hut as in
+old times, before Spare went to court.
+
+"The rich brought them presents, the poor did them service. The hut
+itself changed, no one knew how. Flowering honeysuckle grew over its
+roof; red and white roses grew thick about its door. Moreover, the
+Christmas Cuckoo always came on the first of April, bringing three
+leaves of the merry tree--for Scrub and Fairfeather would have no more
+golden ones. So it was with them when I last heard the news of the north
+country."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMPEROR'S VISION]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 11: By permission from _Granny's Wonderful Chair_, by Frances
+Browne. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE EMPEROR'S VISION[12]
+
+
+IT happened at the time when Augustus was Emperor in Rome and Herod was
+King in Jerusalem.
+
+It was then that a very great and holy night sank down over the earth.
+It was the darkest night that any one had ever seen. One could have
+believed that the whole earth had fallen into a cellar-vault. It was
+impossible to distinguish water from land, and one could not find one's
+way on the most familiar road. And it couldn't be otherwise, for not a
+ray of light came from heaven. All the stars stayed at home in their own
+houses, and the fair moon held her face averted.
+
+The silence and the stillness were as profound as the darkness. The
+rivers stood still in their courses, the wind did not stir, and even the
+aspen leaves had ceased to quiver. Had any one walked along the
+sea-shore, he would have found that the waves no longer dashed upon the
+sands; and had one wandered in the desert, the sand would not have
+crunched under one's feet. Everything was as motionless as if turned to
+stone, so as not to disturb the holy night. The grass was afraid to
+grow, the dew could not fall, and the flowers dared not exhale their
+perfume.
+
+On this night the wild beasts did not seek their prey, the serpents did
+not sting, and the dogs did not bark. And what was even more glorious,
+inanimate things would have been unwilling to disturb the night's
+sanctity, by lending themselves to an evil deed. No false key could have
+picked a lock, and no knife could possibly have drawn a drop of blood.
+
+In Rome, during this very night, a small company of people came from the
+Emperor's palace at the Palatine and took the path across the Forum
+which led to the Capitol. During the day just ended the Senators had
+asked the Emperor if he had any objections to their erecting a temple to
+him on Rome's sacred hill. But Augustus had not immediately given his
+consent. He did not know if it would be agreeable to the gods that he
+should own a temple next to theirs, and he had replied that first he
+wished to ascertain their will in the matter by offering a nocturnal
+sacrifice to his genius. It was he who, accompanied by a few trusted
+friends, was on his way to perform this sacrifice.
+
+Augustus let them carry him in his litter, for he was old, and it was an
+effort for him to climb the long stairs leading to the Capitol. He
+himself held the cage with the doves for the sacrifice. No priests or
+soldiers or senators accompanied him, only his nearest friends.
+Torch-bearers walked in front of him in order to light the way in the
+night darkness and behind him followed the slaves, who carried the
+tripod, the knives, the charcoal, the sacred fire, and all the other
+things needed for the sacrifice.
+
+On the way the Emperor chatted gayly with his faithful followers, and
+therefore none of them noticed the infinite silence and stillness of the
+night. Only when they had reached the highest point of the Capitol Hill
+and the vacant spot upon which they contemplated erecting the temple,
+did it dawn upon them that something unusual was taking place.
+
+It could not be a night like all others, for up on the very edge of the
+cliff they saw the most remarkable being! At first they thought it was
+an old, distorted olive-trunk; later they imagined that an ancient stone
+figure from the temple of Jupiter had wandered out on the cliff. Finally
+it was apparent to them that it could be only the old sibyl.
+
+Anything so aged, so weather-beaten, and so giantlike in stature they
+had never seen. This old woman was awe-inspiring! If the Emperor had not
+been present, they would all have fled to their homes.
+
+"It is she," they whispered to each other, "who has lived as many years
+as there are sand-grains on her native shores. Why has she come out from
+her cave just to-night? What does she foretell for the Emperor and the
+Empire--she, who writes her prophecies on the leaves of the trees and
+knows that the wind will carry the words of the oracle to the person for
+whom they are intended?"
+
+They were so terrified that they would have dropped on their knees with
+their foreheads pressed against the earth, had the sibyl stirred. But
+she sat as still as though she were lifeless. Crouching upon the
+outermost edge of the cliff, and shading her eyes with her hand, she
+peered out into the night. She sat there as if she had gone up on the
+hill that she might see more clearly something that was happening far
+away. _She_ could see things on a night like this!
+
+At that moment the Emperor and all his retinue, marked how profound the
+darkness was. None of them could see a hand's breadth in front of him.
+And what stillness! What silence! Not even the Tiber's hollow murmur
+could they hear. The air seemed to suffocate them, cold sweat broke out
+on their foreheads, and their hands were numb and powerless. They feared
+that some dreadful disaster was impending.
+
+But no one cared to show that he was afraid, and every one told the
+Emperor that this was a good omen. All Nature held its breath to greet a
+new god.
+
+They counseled Augustus to hurry with the sacrifice, and said that the
+old sibyl had evidently come out of her cave to greet his genius.
+
+But the truth was that the old sibyl was so absorbed in a vision that
+she did not even know that Augustus had come up to the Capitol. She was
+transported in spirit to a far-distant land, where she imagined that she
+was wandering over a great plain. In the darkness she stubbed her foot
+continually against something, which she believed to be grass-tufts. She
+stooped down and felt with her hand. No, it was not grass, but sheep.
+She was walking between great sleeping flocks of sheep.
+
+Then she noticed the shepherds' fire. It burned in the middle of the
+field, and she groped her way to it. The shepherds lay asleep by the
+fire, and beside them were the long, spiked staves with which they
+defended their flocks from wild beasts. But the little animals with the
+glittering eyes and the bushy tails that stole up to the fire, were they
+not jackals? And yet the shepherds did not fling their staves at them,
+the dogs continued to sleep, the sheep did not flee, and the wild
+animals lay down to rest beside the human beings.
+
+This the sibyl saw, but she knew nothing of what was being enacted on
+the hill back of her. She did not know that there they were raising an
+altar, lighting charcoal and strewing incense, and that the Emperor took
+one of the doves from the cage to sacrifice it. But his hands were so
+benumbed that he could not hold the bird. With one stroke of the wing,
+it freed itself and disappeared in the night darkness.
+
+When this happened, the courtiers glanced suspiciously at the old sibyl.
+They believed that it was she who caused the misfortune.
+
+Could they know that all the while the sibyl thought herself standing
+beside the shepherds' fire, and that she listened to a faint sound which
+came trembling through the dead-still night? She heard it long before
+she marked that it did not come from earth, but from the sky. At last
+she raised her head; then she saw light, shimmering forms glide forward
+in the darkness. They were little flocks of angels, who, singing
+joyously, and apparently searching, flew back and forth above the wide
+plain.
+
+While the sibyl was listening to the angel-song, the Emperor was making
+preparations for a new sacrifice. He washed his hands, cleansed the
+altar, and took up the other dove. And, although he exerted his full
+strength to hold it fast, the dove's slippery body slid from his hand,
+and the bird swung itself up into the impenetrable night.
+
+The Emperor was appalled! He fell upon his knees and prayed to his
+genius. He implored him for strength to avert the disasters which this
+night seemed to foreshadow.
+
+Nor did the sibyl hear any of this either. She was listening with her
+whole soul to the angel-song, which grew louder and louder. At last it
+became so powerful that it wakened the shepherds. They raised themselves
+on their elbows and saw shining hosts of silver-white angels move in
+the darkness in long swaying lines, like migratory birds. Some held
+lutes and cymbals in their hands; others held zithers and harps, and
+their song rang out as merry as child-laughter, and as carefree as the
+lark's thrill. When the shepherds heard this, they rose up to go to the
+mountain city, where they lived, to tell of the miracle.
+
+They groped their way forward on a narrow, winding path, and the sibyl
+followed them. Suddenly it grew light up there on the mountain: a big,
+clear star kindled right over it, and the city on the mountain summit
+glittered like silver in the starlight. All the fluttering angel throngs
+hastened thither, shouting for joy, and the shepherds hurried so that
+they almost ran. When they reached the city, they found that the angels
+had assembled over a low stable near the city gate. It was a wretched
+structure, with a roof of straw and the naked cliff for a back wall.
+Over it hung the Star, and hither flocked more and more angels. Some
+seated themselves on the straw roof or alighted upon the steep
+mountain-wall back of the house; others, again, held themselves in the
+air on outspread wings, and hovered over it. High, high up, the air was
+illuminated by the shining wings.
+
+The instant the Star kindled over the mountain city, all Nature awoke,
+and the men who stood upon Capitol Hill could not help seeing it. They
+felt fresh, but caressing winds which traveled through space; delicious
+perfumes streamed up about them; trees swayed; the Tiber began to
+murmur; the stars twinkled, and suddenly the moon stood out in the sky
+and lit up the world. And out of the clouds the two doves came circling
+down and lighted upon the Emperor's shoulders.
+
+When this miracle happened, Augustus rose, proud and happy, but his
+friends and his slaves fell on their knees.
+
+"Hail, Cæsar!" they cried. "Thy genius hath answered thee. Thou art the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+And this cry of homage, which the men in their transport gave as a
+tribute to the emperor, was so loud that the old sibyl heard it. It
+waked her from her visions. She rose from her place on the edge of the
+cliff, and came down among the people. It was as if a dark cloud had
+arisen from the abyss and rushed down the mountain height. She was
+terrifying in her extreme age! Coarse hair hung in matted tangles around
+her head, her joints were enlarged, and the dark skin, hard as the bark
+of a tree, covered her body with furrow upon furrow.
+
+Potent and awe-inspiring, she advanced toward the Emperor. With one hand
+she clutched his wrist, with the other she pointed toward the distant
+East.
+
+"Look!" she commanded, and the Emperor raised his eyes and saw. The
+vaulted heavens opened before his eyes, and his glance traveled to the
+distant Orient. He saw a lowly stable behind a steep rock wall, and in
+the open doorway a few shepherds kneeling. Within the stable he saw a
+young mother on her knees before a little child, who lay upon a bundle
+of straw on the floor.
+
+And the sibyl's big, knotty fingers pointed toward the poor babe. "Hail,
+Cæsar!" cried the sibyl, in a burst of scornful laughter. "There is the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+Then Augustus shrank back from her, as from a maniac. But upon the sibyl
+fell the mighty spirit of prophecy. Her dim eyes began to burn, her
+hands were stretched toward heaven, her voice was so changed that it
+seemed not to be her own, but rang out with such resonance and power
+that it could have been heard over the whole world. And she uttered
+words which she appeared to be reading among the stars.
+
+"Upon Capitol Hill shall the Redeemer of the world be
+worshiped--_Christ_--but not frail mortals."
+
+When she had said this, she strode past the terror-stricken men, walked
+slowly down the mountain, and disappeared.
+
+But, on the following day, Augustus strictly forbade the people to raise
+any temple to him on Capitol Hill. In place of it he built a sanctuary
+to the new-born GodChild, and called it HEAVEN'S ALTAR--_Ara Coeli_.
+
+[Illustration: THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 12: By permission from _Christ Legends,_ by Selma Lagerlof.
+Copyright by Henry Holt & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP[13]
+
+IT was the Eve of St. Stephen, and Teig sat alone by his fire with
+naught in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and
+a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water bucket
+outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth--a handful of
+golden cinders left, just; and Teig took to counting them greedily on
+his fingers.
+
+"There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he laughed. "Faith, there
+be more bits o' real gold hid undther the loose clay in the corner."
+
+It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching for the last
+piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare of a Christmas dinner.
+
+"Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if ye have naught to
+give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" and he laughed again.
+
+He was thinking of the neighbors, and the doles of food and piggins of
+milk that would pass over their thresholds that night to the vagabonds
+and paupers who were sure to come begging. And on the heels of that
+thought followed another: who would be giving old Barney his dinner?
+Barney lived a stone's throw from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in
+cabin; and for a score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep
+every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, had called
+across the road:
+
+"Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" And Barney had
+reached for his crutches--there being but one leg to him--and had come.
+
+"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the once;
+'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to thinking of
+the gold again.
+
+A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself down in his chair where
+the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue.
+
+"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there,
+open your door. I have not got the pay for the spriggin' this month, an'
+the childher are needin' food."
+
+But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never stirred till he heard
+the tramp of her feet going on to the next cabin. Then he saw to it that
+the door was tight-barred. Another knock came, and it was a stranger's
+voice this time:
+
+"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will
+ye take us in--the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel
+o' food have we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"
+
+But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers'
+feet passed down the road. Others took their place--small feet, running.
+It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran by:
+
+"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forget-tin' him, will ye,
+Teig?"
+
+And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, as she passed
+down the road:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even.
+    Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                      Mhuire as traugh!
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary.
+    'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!
+
+Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million murdthering curses on
+them that won't let me be! Can't a man try to keep what is his without
+bein' pesthered by them that has only idled an' wasted their days?"
+
+And then a strange thing happened: hundreds and hundreds of wee lights
+began dancing outside the window, making the room bright; the hands of
+the clock began chasing each other round the dial, and the bolt of the
+door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak or a cringe, the door
+opened, and in there trooped a crowd of the Good People. Their wee green
+cloaks were folded close about them, and each carried a rush candle.
+
+Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, when he saw the
+fairies, but when they saw him they laughed.
+
+"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, Teig," said they. "Ye
+are the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."
+
+Without saying more, they bustled about the room making ready. They
+lengthened out the table and spread and set it; more of the Good People
+trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
+and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece a-blowing their
+chanters and trying the drones. The feasting began and the pipers played
+and never had Teig seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man
+sang out:
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" And out of the
+air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig ever laid his two eyes on. The
+wee man clapped it on his head, crying:
+
+"I wish I was in Spain!" and--whist--up the chimney he went, and away
+out of sight.
+
+It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee man called for his cap,
+and away he went after the first. And then another and another until the
+room was empty and Teig sat alone again.
+
+"By my soul," said Teig, "I'd like to thravel that way myself! It's a
+grand savin' of tickets an' baggage; an' ye get to a place before ye've
+had time to change your mind. Faith there is no harm done if I thry it."
+
+So he sang the fairies' rime and out of the air dropped a wee cap for
+him. For a moment the wonder had him, but the next he was clapping the
+cap on his head and crying:
+
+"Spain!"
+
+Then--whist--up the chimney he went after the fairies, and before he had
+time to let out his breath he was standing in the middle of Spain, and
+strangeness all about him.
+
+He was in a great city. The doorways of the houses were hung with
+flowers and the air was warm and sweet with the smell of them. Torches
+burned along the streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their
+wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars.
+
+"What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one of the fairies.
+
+"They are waiting for those that are hearing mass. When they come out,
+they give half of what they have to those that have nothing, so on this
+night of all the year there shall be no hunger and no cold."
+
+And then far down the street came the sound of a child's voice, singing:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even."
+
+"Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?" And then he heard the
+fairies cry "Holland!" and he cried "Holland!" too.
+
+In one leap he was over France, and another over Belgium; and with the
+third he was standing by long ditches of water frozen fast, and over
+them glided hundreds upon hundreds of lads and maids. Outside each door
+stood a wee wooden shoe empty. Teig saw scores of them as he looked down
+the ditch of a street.
+
+"What is the meanin' o' those shoes?" he asked the fairies.
+
+"Ye poor lad!" answered the wee man next to him; "are ye not knowing
+anything? This is the Gift Night of the year, when every man gives to
+his neighbor."
+
+A child came to the window of one of the houses, and in her hand was a
+lighted candle. She was singing as she put the light down close to the
+glass, and Teig caught the words:
+
+    "Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                    Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red cap more firmly
+on his head.
+
+"I'm for another country."
+
+I cannot be telling you half the adventures Teig had that night, nor
+half the sights that he saw. But he passed by fields that held sheaves
+of grain for the birds and doorsteps that held bowls of porridge for the
+wee creatures. He saw lighted trees, sparkling and heavy with gifts; and
+he stood outside the churches and watched the crowds pass in, bearing
+gifts to the Holy Mother and Child.
+
+At last the fairies straightened their caps and cried, "Now for the
+great hall in the King of England's palace!"
+
+Whist--and away they went, and Teig after them; and the first thing he
+knew he was in London, not an arm's length from the King's throne. It
+was a grander sight than he had seen in any other country. The hall was
+filled entirely with lords and ladies; and the great doors were open for
+the poor and the homeless to come in and warm themselves by the King's
+fire and feast from the King's table. And many a hungry soul did the
+King serve with his own hands.
+
+Those that had anything to give gave it in return. It might be a bit of
+music played on a harp or a pipe, or it might be a dance or a song; but
+more often it was a wish, just, for good luck and safekeeping.
+
+Teig was so taken up with the watching that he never heard the fairies
+when they wished themselves off; moreover, he never saw the wee girl
+that was fed, and went laughing away. But he heard a bit of her song as
+she passed through the door:
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary."
+
+Then the anger had Teig. "I'll stop your pestherin' tongue, once an' for
+all time!" and, catching the cap from his head, he threw it after her.
+
+No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the hall saw him. The next
+moment they were about him, catching at his coat and crying:
+
+"Where is he from, what does he here? Bring him before the King!" And
+Teig was dragged along by a hundred hands to the throne where the King
+sat.
+
+"He was stealing food," cried one.
+
+"He was robbing the King's jewels," cried another.
+
+"He looks evil," cried a third. "Kill him!"
+
+And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall rang with: "Aye,
+kill him, kill him!"
+
+Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash on his tongue; but
+after a long silence he managed to whisper:
+
+"I have done evil to no one--no one!"
+
+"Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? Come, tell us, have ye
+given aught to any one this night? If ye have, we will pardon ye."
+
+Not a word could Teig say--fear tightened the leash --for he was knowing
+full well there was no good to him that night.
+
+"Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try hanging or beheading?"
+
+"Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig.
+
+The guards came rushing up and carried him off. But as he was crossing
+the threshold of the hall a thought sprang at him and held him.
+
+"Your Majesty," he called after him, "will ye grant me a last request?"
+
+"I will," said the King.
+
+"Thank ye. There's a wee red cap that I'm mortal fond of, and I lost it
+a while ago; if I could be hung with it on, I would hang a deal more
+comfortable."
+
+The cap was found and brought to Teig.
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, for my wee red cap, I wish I was home," he
+sang.
+
+Up and over the heads of the dumfounded guard he flew, and--whist--and
+away out of sight. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting close
+by his own hearth, with the fire burnt low. The hands of the clock were
+still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door. The fairies' lights were
+gone, and the only bright thing was the candle burning in old Barney's
+cabin across the road.
+
+A running of feet sounded outside, and then the snatch of a song:
+
+    "'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to the corner, digging fast
+at the loose clay, as a terrier digs at a bone. He filled his hands full
+of the shining gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.
+
+The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him out of the darkness.
+
+"Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? And take the rest to
+the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable an'
+dhrinkable; and to the neighbors ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this
+night.' Hurry now!"
+
+Teig stopped a moment on the threshold until the tramp of her feet had
+died away; then he made a hollow of his two hands and called across the
+road:
+
+"Hey there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 13: By permission from _This Way to Christmas,_ by Ruth Sawyer
+Durand. Harper & Brothers.
+
+Also in _The Children's Book of Christmas Stories;_ ed. by A. D.
+Dickinson and A. M. Skinner. Doubleday, Page.]
+
+
+
+
+GREEK LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE CURSE OF ECHO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CURSE OF ECHO[14]
+
+
+IN the flowery groves of Helicon, Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand
+in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the side
+of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the lightest and
+her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not one of them
+could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting mischief in
+their hearts, they would say to her:
+
+"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower,
+and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See
+thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to twine
+in thy hair."
+
+And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove.
+
+"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked.
+
+"When that time comes we shall see," said they.
+
+So with another laugh she would trip away and cast herself on the grass
+at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would relax,
+and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair.
+
+"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask.
+
+"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would answer,
+"and I have a tale--a wondrous new tale--to tell thee."
+
+"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one of
+them as long as an old man's beard."
+
+"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have
+told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of
+the one I shall tell thee now."
+
+"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the
+end."
+
+So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes fixed
+upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of words, and,
+moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which she alone
+could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding to them as
+best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best of
+tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their lies
+some grains of truth which they have picked from their own experience.
+And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, and listen
+entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene live before
+her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their hearts' content and
+never fear her anger.
+
+But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the
+prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her wrath
+flashed forth like lightning.
+
+"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she
+cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till some one else has spoken,
+and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must
+needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken."
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus.
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she
+longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass that
+she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in her
+mouth, whether she wished it or no.
+
+Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his
+companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only wandered
+further, and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. He was
+now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a flower in
+spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed for him.
+But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his heart was hard
+as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, they could kindle
+no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn them, and treat
+them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. When he was born,
+the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning him:
+
+"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy."
+
+And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor woman,
+but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that all who
+saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get from them what
+he would. But he himself knew naught of love, and therefore but little
+of grief; for love at the best brings joy and sorrow hand in hand, and
+if unreturned, it brings naught but pain.
+
+Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods,
+they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he
+went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and would not
+show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should
+not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last,
+when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one
+of his companions.
+
+"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried.
+
+"Where art thou?" answered Echo.
+
+When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear
+nothing more. Then he called again.
+
+"I am here in the wood--Narcissus."
+
+"In the wood--Narcissus," said she.
+
+"Come hither," he cried.
+
+"Come hither," she answered.
+
+Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all about,
+but could see no one.
+
+"Art thou close at hand?" he asked.
+
+"Close at hand," answered Echo.
+
+Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction of
+the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled further,
+so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But wherever
+she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he would not let
+her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had to answer, and
+so show him her hiding-place. By now they had come to an open space in
+the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a clear pool in the
+hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, with her back to the
+tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came out from the trees she
+wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped from her eyes; for she loved
+him, and longed to speak to him, and yet she could not say a word. When
+he saw her he stopped.
+
+"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked.
+
+"Who calls me?" she answered.
+
+"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said.
+
+"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him.
+
+"Who art thou?" he asked.
+
+"Who art thou?" said she.
+
+"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?"
+
+"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands beseechingly.
+
+"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?"
+
+"Why dost thou call me?" said she.
+
+At this he grew angry.
+
+"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty dance through the
+woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me."
+
+"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she.
+
+At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word
+of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired out
+with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass by the
+pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a time she
+stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and explain, but
+never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery she left him, and
+went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a while, when his
+anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered he was very
+thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool beside him, he
+bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out his hand to take
+the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which was the fairest
+face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never yet had known
+what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in the pool. With a
+sigh he held out both his arms toward it, and the figure also held out
+two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered back his sigh. When he
+saw the figure stretching out towards him and heard the sigh, he thought
+that his love was returned, and he bent down closer to the water and
+whispered, "I love thee."
+
+"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock.
+
+At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in
+his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool
+was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to
+his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been
+over-hasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again
+as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once
+again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it fled
+from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same thing
+happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking down into
+the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the figure in
+the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of longing and
+despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the flame of love
+burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no more, but
+determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for the last time
+he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he was clasping the
+empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the pool, thinking that
+in the depths, at any rate, he would find his love. But he found naught
+but death among the weeds and stones of the pool, and knew not that it
+was his own face he loved reflected in the water below him. Thus were
+the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So long as he sees not himself he
+shall live and be happy."
+
+Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when
+Narcissus cast himself into the pool she rushed forward, all too late,
+to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast herself on
+the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and her bones
+wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained and the
+curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless voice
+haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has seen
+since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of him
+beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But her
+voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that no one
+was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if once the
+curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be:
+
+"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back--come back to me!"
+
+By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had watered
+with her tears, there sprang up a sweet-scented flower, with a pure
+white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land men call
+that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his own fair
+face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon.
+
+[Illustration: HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 14: From _Children of the Dawn,_ by Elsie Finnimore Buckley.
+Stokes, London.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN[15]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time there lived a young man who would do nothing from
+morning till night but amuse himself. His parents were dead and had left
+him plenty of money, but this was fast vanishing, and his friends shook
+their heads sadly, for when the money was gone they did not see where
+more was to come from. It was not that Apuleius (for that was the name
+of the youth) was stupid. He might have been a good soldier, or a
+scholar, or a worker in gold, if so it had pleased him, but from a child
+he had refused to do anything useful, and roamed about the city all day
+long in search of adventures. The only kind of learning to which he paid
+any heed was magic, and when he was in the house he would spend hours
+poring over great books of spells.
+
+Fond though he was of sorcery, he was too lazy to leave the town and its
+pleasures--the chariot-racing, the theater, and the wrestling, and to
+travel in search of the wizards who were renowned for their skill in the
+art. However, the time came when, very unwillingly, he was forced to
+take a journey into Thessaly, to see to the proper working of some
+silver mines in which he had a share, and Thessaly, as everybody knows,
+is the home of all magic. So when Apuleius arrived at the town of
+Hypata, where dwelt the man Milo, overseer of his mines, he was prepared
+to believe that all he saw was enchanted.
+
+Now, if Thessaly is the country of magic, it is also the country of
+robbers, and Apuleius soon noticed that everybody he met was in fear of
+them. Indeed, they made this fear the excuse for all sorts of mean and
+foolish ways. For instance, Milo, who loved money and could not bear to
+spend a farthing, refused to have any seats in his house that could be
+removed, and in consequence there was nothing to sit upon except two
+marble chairs fixed to the wall. As there was only room in these for one
+person, the wife of Milo had to retire to her own chamber when the young
+man entered.
+
+"It was no use," explained Milo, "in laying out money on moveable seats,
+with robbers about. They would be sure to hear of it and to break into
+the house."
+
+Unlike his guest, Milo was always occupied in adding to his wealth in
+one form or another. Sometimes he sent down a train of mules to the
+sea, and bought merchandise which the ships had carried from Babylon or
+Egypt, to sell it again at a high price. Then he dealt in sheep and
+cattle, and when he thought he might do so with safety made false
+returns of the silver that was dug up from the mines, and kept the
+difference for himself. But most often he lent large sums at high
+interest to the young men of the neighborhood, and so cunning was he
+that, whoever else might be ruined, Milo managed to make large profits.
+
+Apuleius knew very well that his steward was in his way as great a
+robber as any in Thessaly, but, as usual, he found it too much trouble
+to look into the matter. So he laughed and jested with the miser, and
+next morning went out to the public baths and then took a stroll through
+the city. It was full of statues of the famous men to whom Hypata had
+given birth; but as Apuleius had made up his mind that nothing in
+Thessaly _could_ be what it seemed, he supposed that they were living
+people who had fallen under enchantment, and that the oxen whom he met
+driven through the streets had once been men and women.
+
+One evening he was returning as usual from a walk when he saw from afar
+three figures before Milo's house, whom he at once guessed were trying
+to force an entrance.
+
+"Here is an adventure at last," thought he, and, keeping in the shadow,
+he stole softly up behind them, and drawing his short sword he stabbed
+each one to the heart. Then, without waiting to see what more would
+befall, he left them where they were and entered the house by a door at
+the back.
+
+He said nothing of what had happened to Milo his host, but the next day,
+before he had left his bed, a summons was brought him by one of the
+slaves to appear before the court at noon on a charge of murder. As has
+been seen, Apuleius was a brave man and did not fear to face three times
+his number, but his heart quailed at the thought of a public trial.
+Still, he was wise enough to know that there was no help for it, and at
+the hour appointed he was in his place.
+
+The first witnesses against him were two women with black veils covering
+them from head to foot. At the sound of the herald's trumpet, one of the
+two stepped forward and accused him of compassing the death of her
+husband. When she had ended her plaint the herald blew another blast,
+and another veiled woman came forward and charged him with her son's
+murder. Then the herald inquired if there was not yet a third victim,
+but was answered that his wound was slight, and that he was able to roam
+through the city.
+
+After the witnesses had been called, the judge pronounced sentence.
+Apuleius the murderer was condemned to death, but he must first of all
+be tortured, so that he might reveal the names of the men who had
+abetted him. By order of the court, horrible instruments were brought
+forward which chilled the blood of Apuleius in his veins. But to his
+surprise, when he looked round to see if none would be his friend, he
+noticed that every one, from the judge to the herald, was shaking with
+laughter. His amazement was increased when with a trembling voice one of
+the women demanded that the bodies should be produced, so that the judge
+might be induced to feel more pity and to order more tortures. The judge
+assented to this, and two bodies were carried into court shrouded in
+wrappings, and the order was given that Apuleius himself should remove
+the wrappings.
+
+The face of the young man grew white as he heard the words of the judge,
+for even a hardened criminal cares but little to touch the corpse of a
+man whom he has murdered. But he dared not disobey, and walked slowly to
+the place where the dead bodies lay. He shrank for a moment as he took
+the cloth in his hands, but his guards were behind him, and calling up
+all his courage, he withdrew it. A shout of laughter pealed out behind
+him, and to his amazement he saw that his victims of the previous night
+had been three huge leather bottles and not men at all!
+
+As soon as Apuleius found out the trick that had been played on him he
+was no less amused than the rest, but in the midst of his mirth a sudden
+thought struck him.
+
+"How was it you managed to make them alive?" asked he, "for alive they
+were, and battering themselves against the door of the house."
+
+"Oh, that is simple enough when one has a sorceress for a mistress,"
+answered a damsel, who was standing by. "She burned the hairs of some
+goats and wove spells over them, so that the animals to whom the hairs
+and skins had once belonged became endowed with life and tried to enter
+their former dwelling."
+
+"They may well say that Thessaly is the home of wonders," cried the
+young man. "But do you think that your mistress would let me see her at
+work? I would pay her well--and you also," he added.
+
+"It might be managed perhaps, without her knowledge," answered Fotis,
+for such was the girl's name; "but you must hold yourself in readiness
+after nightfall, for I cannot tell what evening she may choose to cast
+off her own shape."
+
+Apuleius promised readily that he would not stir out after sunset, and
+the damsel went her way.
+
+That very evening, Hesperus had scarcely risen from his bed when Fotis
+knocked at the door of the house.
+
+"Come hither, and quickly," she said; and without stopping to question
+her Apuleius hastened by her side to the dwelling of the witch Pamphile.
+Entering softly, they crept along a dark passage, where they could peep
+through a crack in the wall and see Pamphile at work. She was in the act
+of rubbing her body with essences from a long row of bottles which stood
+in a cupboard in the wall, chanting to herself spells as she did so.
+Slowly, feathers began to sprout from her head to her feet. Her arms
+vanished, her nails became claws, her eyes grew round and her nose
+hooked, and a little brown owl flew out of the window.
+
+"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Fotis, but Apuleius shook his head.
+
+"Not yet," he answered. "I want to know how she transforms herself into
+a woman again."
+
+"That is quite easy, you may be sure," replied Fotis. "My mistress
+never runs any risks. A cup of water from a spring, with some laurel
+leaves and anise floating in it, is all that she needs. I have seen her
+do it a thousand times."
+
+"Turn me into a nightingale, then, and I will give you five hundred
+sesterces," cried Apuleius eagerly; and Fotis, tempted by the thought of
+so much money, agreed to do what he wished.
+
+But either Fotis was not so skilful as she thought herself, or in her
+hurry she neglected to observe that the bird bottles were all on one
+shelf, and the beast bottles on another, for when she had rubbed the
+ointment over the young man's chest something fearful happened. Instead
+of his arms disappearing, they stretched downwards; his back became
+bent, his face long and narrow, while a browny-gray fur covered his
+body. Apuleius had been changed, not into a nightingale, but into an
+ass!
+
+A loud scream broke from Fotis when she saw what she had done, and
+Apuleius, glancing at a polished mirror from Corinth which hung on the
+walls, beheld with horror the fate that had overtaken him.
+
+"Quick, quick! fetch the water, and I will seek for the laurels and
+anise," he cried. "I do not want to be an ass at all; my arms and back
+are aching already, and if I am not swiftly restored to my own shape I
+shall not be able to overthrow the champion in the wrestling match
+to-morrow."
+
+So Fotis ran out to draw the water from the spring, while Apuleius
+opened some boxes with his teeth, and soon found the anise and laurels.
+But alas! Fotis had deceived herself. The charm which was meant for a
+bird would not work with a beast, and, what was worse, when Apuleius
+tried to speak to her and beg her to try something else, he found he
+could only bray!
+
+In despair the girl took down the book of spells, and began to turn over
+the pages; while the ass, who was still a man in all but his outward
+form, glanced eagerly down them also. At length he gave a loud bray of
+satisfaction, and rubbed his nose on a part of the long scroll.
+
+"Of course, I remember now," cried Fotis with delight. "What a comfort
+that nothing more is needed to restore you to your proper shape than a
+handful of rose leaves!"
+
+The mind of Apuleius was now quite easy, but his spirits fell again when
+Fotis reminded him that he could no longer expect to be received by his
+friends, but must lie in the stable of Milo, with his own horse, and be
+tended, if he was tended at all, by his own servant.
+
+"However, it will not be for long," she added consolingly. "In the
+corner of the stable is a little shrine to the goddess of horses, and
+every day fresh roses are placed before it. Before the sun sets
+to-morrow you will be yourself again."
+
+Slowly and shyly Apuleius slunk along lonely paths till he came to the
+stable of Milo. The door was open, but, as he entered, his horse, who
+was fastened with a sliding cord, kicked wildly at him, and caught him
+right on the shoulder. But before the horse could deal another blow
+Apuleius had sprung hastily on one side, and had hidden himself in a
+dark corner, where he slept soundly.
+
+The moon was shining brightly when he awoke, and looking round, he saw,
+as Fotis had told him, the shrine of Hippone, with a branch of
+sweet-smelling pink roses lying before it. It was rather high up, he
+thought, but, when he reared himself on his hind legs, he would surely
+be tall enough to reach it. So up he got, and trod softly over the
+straw, till he drew near the shrine, when with a violent effort he threw
+up his forelegs into the air. Yes! it was all right, his nose was quite
+near the roses; but just as he opened his mouth his balance gave way,
+and his front feet came heavily on the floor.
+
+The noise brought the man, who was sleeping in another part of the
+stable.
+
+"Oh, I see what you are at, you ugly beast," cried he; "would you eat
+roses that I put there for the goddess? I don't know who may be your
+master, or how you got here, but I will take care that you do no more
+mischief." So saying, he struck the ass several times with his fists,
+and then, putting a rope round his neck, tied him up in another part of
+the stable.
+
+Now it happened that an hour or two later some of the most desperate
+robbers in all Thessaly broke into the house of Milo, and, unheard by
+any one, took all the bags of money that the miser had concealed under
+some loose stones in his cellar. It was clear that they could not carry
+away such heavy plunder without risk of the crime being discovered, but
+they managed to get it quietly as far as the stable, where they gave the
+horse some apples to put it in a good temper, while they thrust a turnip
+into the mouth of Apuleius, who did not like it at all. Then they led
+out both the animals, and placed the sacks of money on their backs,
+after which they all set out for the robbers' cave in the side of the
+mountain. As this, however, was some distance off, it took them many
+hours to reach it, and on the way they passed through a large deserted
+garden, where rose bushes of all sorts grew like weeds. The pulse of
+Apuleius bounded at the sight, and he had already stretched out his nose
+towards them, when he suddenly remembered that if he should turn into a
+man in his present company he would probably be murdered by the robbers.
+With a great effort, he left the roses alone, and tramped steadily on
+his way.
+
+It were long indeed to tell the adventures of Apuleius and the number of
+masters whom he served. After some time he was captured by a soldier,
+and by him sold to two brothers, one a cook and the other a maker of
+pastry, who were attached to the service of a rich man who lived in the
+country. This man did not allow any of his slaves to dwell in his house,
+except those who attended on him personally, and these two brothers
+lived in a tent on the other side of the garden, and the ass was given
+to them to send to and fro with savory dishes in his panniers.
+
+The cook and his brother were both careful men, and always had a great
+store of pastry and sweet things on their shelves, so that none might be
+lacking if their lord should command them. When they had done their work
+they placed water and food for their donkey in a little shed which
+opened on to the tent, then, fastening the door so that no one could
+enter, they went out to enjoy the evening air.
+
+On their return, it struck them that the tent looked unusually bare, and
+at length they perceived that this was because every morsel of pastry
+and sweets on the shelves had disappeared, and nothing was left of them,
+not so much as a crumb. There was no room for a thief to hide, so the
+two brothers supposed that, impossible it seemed, he must not only have
+got _in_ but _out_ by the door, and, as their master might send for a
+tray of cakes at any moment, there was no help for it but to make a
+fresh supply. And so they did, and it took them more than half the night
+to do it.
+
+The next evening the same thing happened again; and the next, and the
+next, and the next.
+
+Then, by accident, the cook went into the shed where the ass lay, and
+discovered a heap of corn and hay that reached nearly to the roof.
+
+"Ah, you rascal!" he exclaimed, bursting out laughing as he spoke. "So
+it is you who have cost us our sleep! Well, well, I dare say I should
+have done the same myself, for cakes and sweets are certainly nicer than
+corn and hay." And the donkey brayed in answer, and winked an eye at
+him, and, more amused than before, the man went away to tell his
+brother.
+
+Of course it was not long before the story reached the ears of their
+master, who instantly sent to buy the donkey, and bade one of his
+servants, who had a taste for such things, teach him fresh tricks. This
+the man was ready enough to do, for the fame of this wonderful creature
+soon spread far and wide, and the citizens of the town thronged the
+doors of his stable. And while the servant reaped much gold by making
+the ass display his accomplishments, the master gained many friends
+among the people, and was soon made chief ruler.
+
+For five years Apuleius stayed in the house of Thyasus, and ate as many
+sweet cakes as he chose; and if he wanted more than were given him he
+wandered down to the tent of his old masters, and swept the shelves bare
+as of yore. At the end of the five years Thyasus proclaimed that a great
+feast would be held in his garden, after which plays would be acted, and
+in one of them his donkey should appear.
+
+Now, though Apuleius loved eating and drinking, he was not at all fond
+of doing tricks in public, and as the day drew near he grew more and
+more resolved that he would take no part in the entertainment. So one
+warm moonlight night he stole out of his stable, and galloped as fast as
+he could for ten miles, when he reached the sea. He was hot and tired
+with his long run, and the sea looked cool and pleasant.
+
+"It is years since I have had a bath," thought he, "or wetted anything
+but my feet. I will take one now; it will make me feel like a man
+again"; and into the water he went, and splashed about with
+joy, which would much have surprised any one who had seen him, for asses
+do not in general care about washing.
+
+When he came back to dry land once more, he shook himself all over, and
+held his head first on one side and then on the other, so that the water
+might run out of his long ears. After that he felt quite comfortable,
+and lay down to sleep under a tree.
+
+He was awakened some hours later by the sound of voices singing a hymn,
+and, raising his head, he saw a vast crowd of people trooping down to
+the shore to hold the festival of their goddess, and in their midst
+walked the high priest crowned with a wreath of roses.
+
+At this sight hope was born afresh in the heart of Apuleius. It was long
+indeed since he had beheld any roses, for Thyasus fancied they made him
+ill, and would not suffer any one to grow them in the city. So he drew
+near to the priest as he passed by, and gazed at him so wistfully that,
+moved by some sudden impulse, the pontiff lifted the wreath from his
+head, and held it out to him, while the people drew to one side,
+feeling that something was happening which they did not understand.
+
+Scarcely had Apuleius swallowed one of the roses, when the ass's skin
+fell from him, his back straightened itself, and his face once more
+became fair and rosy. Then he turned and joined in the hymn, and there
+was not a man among them all with a sweeter voice or more thankful
+spirit than that of Apuleius.
+
+[Illustration: HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 15: Reprinted by permission from _The Red Book of Romance_.
+Edited by Andrew Lang. Longmans, Green & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE[16]
+
+
+This story is part of a longer one called "Alexander the Son of Philip."
+Alexander, a little bootblack living in modern Athens, is befriended by
+a blind old schoolmaster, Kyr Themistocli, to whom he promises to come
+each day and read the daily newspaper. For this service the little
+"Aleko" is to be helped with his lessons. By way of getting acquainted
+the old man asks, "Tell me, now, what do they call you?"
+
+"They call me Aleko."
+
+"From where?"
+
+"My mother lives in Megaloupolis, and I was born there and the little
+ones, but my father was not from there."
+
+Kyr Themistocli noticed the past tense.
+
+"He is dead, your father?"
+
+"Yes, it is two years ago that he died."
+
+"And from where was he?"
+
+"From Siatista."
+
+"Ah, a Macedonian! And what was his name?"
+
+"Philippos Vasiliou."
+
+"So your name is Alexandros Vasiliou?"
+
+Aleko nodded.
+
+"Alexander of the King! Alexander the son of Philip! Your master has
+taught you about him at school?"
+
+"Of course," said Aleko, frowning.
+
+     The old man smiled. There is a story about him which you have not
+     heard perhaps. Do you know how _Alexander the King got the Water of
+     Life?_"
+
+     Aleko shook his head: "We have not reached such a part."
+
+     "Well, I will tell you about it.  Listen:--
+
+"WHEN Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
+and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before him
+the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:
+
+"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of Fate,
+tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this world
+which I have made mine?'
+
+"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is written
+in the Book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on Earth can
+efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy thy kingdom
+and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee endure as long
+as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'
+
+"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be hard,
+I asked only what it was.'
+
+"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know then that he alone who
+drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
+water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
+and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed to
+death. The bones lie in high piles, of the king's sons who have lost
+their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass safely
+through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond them a
+sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must thou slay
+before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'
+
+"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring forth
+his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The king
+mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
+triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
+only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
+rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
+dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.
+
+"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
+deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened that
+his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And some
+of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to this day,
+wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke, he stretched out
+his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and found naught; and in
+his rage he would have killed the slaves who guarded his sleep, but his
+sister being of royal blood, could not hide the truth, and she told him
+that, not knowing she had thrown the Water of Life away.
+
+"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon his
+sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be turned into
+a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land and habitation
+of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens that to this day
+those who sail over the open sea in ships often see Alexander's sister,
+half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves. Strange to say, she
+does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes close to her she cries
+out: 'Does Alexander live?'
+
+"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer, 'He
+is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms and her
+long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and sinks the
+ship. But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind,
+'Does Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and
+reigns,' then the maid's heart is joyful and she sings sweet songs till
+the ship is out of sight.
+
+"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when they
+return to land."
+
+When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then said
+slowly:
+
+"That is not true--but I like it."
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 16: By permission from _Under Greek Skies,_ by Julia
+Dragoumis. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE FIRST CORN]
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CORN[17]
+
+
+A LONG time ago there lived in a Pawnee village a young man who was a
+great gambler. Every day he played at sticks, and he was almost always
+unlucky. Sometimes he would lose everything that he had, and would even
+lose things belonging to his father. His father had often scolded him
+about gambling, and had told him that he ought to stop it. There were
+two things that he never staked; these two things were his shield and
+his lance.
+
+One day he played sticks for a long time, and when he got through he had
+lost everything that he had except these two things. When he went home
+at night to his father's lodge he told his relations what he had done,
+and his father said to him:
+
+"My son, for a long time you have been doing this, and I have many times
+spoken to you about it. Now I have done. I cannot have you here any
+longer. You cannot live here in my lodge or in this village. You must go
+away."
+
+The young man thought about it for a little while and then he said:
+
+"Well, I will go. It does not make much difference where I am." So he
+took his shield and his spear and went out of the lodge and started to
+go away from the village. When he got outside of the village and had
+gone some distance, he heard behind him a loud rushing sound like a
+strong wind--the sound kept getting nearer and louder--and all at once
+it was above him, and then the sound stopped, and something spoke to him
+and said:
+
+"Well, I am here. I have come to find you. I have been sent, and am here
+on purpose to get you and take you with me." The voice that spoke to him
+was the Wind.
+
+The Wind took the young man up and carried him away towards the west.
+They traveled many days, and passed over broad prairies and then across
+high mountains and then over high, wide plains and over other mountains
+until they came to the end of the world, where the sky bends down and
+touches the ground. The last thing the young man saw was the gate
+through the edge of the sky. A great buffalo bull stands in this gateway
+and blocks it up. He had to move to one side to let the Wind and the
+young man pass through. Every year one hair drops from the hide of this
+bull. When all have fallen the end of the world will come.
+
+After they had passed through this gate they went on, and it seemed as
+if they were passing over a big water. There was nothing to be seen
+except the sky and the water. At last they came to a land. Here were
+many people--great crowds of them. The Wind told the young man:
+
+"These are all waiters on the Father."
+
+They went on, and at last came to the Father's lodge and went in. When
+they had sat down the Father spoke to the young man and said to him:
+
+"My son, I have known you for a long time, and have watched you. I
+wanted to see you, and that is why I gave you bad luck at the sticks,
+and why I sent my Wind to bring you here. Your people are very hungry
+now because they can find no buffalo, but I am going to give you
+something on which you can live, even when the buffalo fail."
+
+Then he gave him three little sacks. The first contained squash seed;
+the second beans, red and white; and the third corn, white, red, blue
+and yellow. The Father said:
+
+"Tie these sacks to your shield and do not lose them. When you get back
+to your people give each one some of the seeds and tell him to put them
+in the ground; then they will make more. These things are good to eat,
+but the first year do not let the people eat them; let them put the
+yield away and the next year again put it in the ground. After that they
+can eat a part of what grows, but they must always save some for seed.
+So the people will always have something to eat with their buffalo meat,
+and something to depend on if the buffalo fail." The Father gave him
+also a buffalo robe, and said to him:
+
+"When you go back, the next day after you have got there, call all the
+people together in your lodge, and give them what is in this robe, and
+tell them all these things. Now you can go back to your people."
+
+The Wind took the young man back. They traveled a long time, and at last
+they came to the Pawnee village. The Wind put the young man down, and he
+went into his father's lodge and said:
+
+"Father, I am here." But his father did not believe him, and said:
+
+"It is not you." He had been gone so long that they had thought him
+dead. Then he said to his mother:
+
+"Mother, I am here." And his mother knew him and was glad that he had
+returned.
+
+At this time the people had no buffalo. They had scouted far and near
+and could find none anywhere, and they were all very hungry. The little
+children cried with hunger. The next day after he got back, the young
+man sent out an old man to go through the camp and call all the people
+to come to his father's lodge. When they were there, he opened his robe
+and spread it out, and it was covered with pieces of fat buffalo meat
+piled high. The young man gave to each person all he could carry, but
+while he was handing out the pieces, his father was trying to pull off
+the robe the hind-quarters of the buffalo and hide them. He was afraid
+that the young man might give away all the meat, and he wanted to save
+this for their own lodge. But the young man said:
+
+"Father, do not take this away. Do not touch anything. There is enough."
+
+After he had given them the meat he showed them the sacks of seed and
+told them what they were for, and explained to them that they must not
+eat any the first year, but that they must always save some to plant,
+and the people listened. Then he said to them:
+
+"I hear that you have no buffalo. Come out to-morrow and I will show you
+where to go for buffalo." The People wondered where this could be, for
+they had traveled far in all directions looking for buffalo. The next
+day they went out as he had told them, and the young man sent two boys
+to the top of a high hill close to camp, and told them to let him know
+what they saw from it. When the boys got to the top of the hill, they
+saw down below them in the hollow a big band of buffalo.
+
+When the people learned that the buffalo were there, they all took their
+arrows and ran out and chased the buffalo and made a big killing, so
+that there was plenty in the camp and they made much dried meat. Four
+days after this he again sent out the boys, and they found buffalo. Now
+that they had plenty of meat they stayed in one place, and when spring
+came the young man put the seed in the ground. When the people first saw
+these strange plants growing they wondered at them, for they were new
+and different from anything that they had ever seen growing on the
+prairie. They liked the color of the young stalks, and the way they
+tasseled out, and the way the ears formed. They found that besides being
+pretty to look at they were good to eat, for when the young man had
+gathered the crop he gave the people a little to taste, so that they
+might know the words that he had spoken were true. The rest he kept for
+seed. Next season he gave all the people seed to plant, and after that
+they always had these things.
+
+Later, this young man became one of the head men, and taught the people
+many things. He told them that always when they killed buffalo they must
+bring the fattest and offer them to the Father. He taught them about the
+sacred bundles, and told them that they must put an ear of corn on the
+bundles and must keep a piece of fat in the bundles along with the corn,
+and that both must be kept out of sight. In the fall they should take
+the ear of corn out of the bundles and rub the piece of fat over it.
+Thus they would have good crops and plenty of food.
+
+All these things the people did, and it was a help to them in their
+living.
+
+[Illustration: WAUKEWA'S EAGLE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 17: By special permission from _The Punishment of the Stingy,_
+by George Bird Grinnell. Copyright by Harper & Brothers.]
+
+
+
+
+WAUKEWA'S EAGLE[18]
+
+
+ONE day, when the Indian boy Waukewa was hunting along the
+mountain-side, he found a young eagle with a broken wing, lying at the
+base of a cliff. The bird had fallen from an aery on a ledge high above,
+and being too young to fly, had fluttered down the cliff and injured
+itself so severely that it was likely to die. When Waukewa saw it he was
+about to drive one of his sharp arrows through its body, for the passion
+of the hunter was strong in him, and the eagle plunders many a fine fish
+from the Indian's drying-frame. But a gentler impulse came to him as he
+saw the young bird quivering with pain and fright at his feet, and he
+slowly unbent his bow, put the arrow in his quiver, and stooped over the
+panting eaglet. For fully a minute the wild eyes of the wounded bird and
+the eyes of the Indian boy, growing gentler and softer as he gazed,
+looked into one another. Then the struggling and panting of the young
+eagle ceased; the wild, frightened look passed out of its eyes, and it
+suffered Waukewa to pass his hand gently over its ruffled and draggled
+feathers. The fierce instinct to fight, to defend its threatened life,
+yielded to the charm of the tenderness and pity expressed in the boy's
+eyes; and from that moment Waukewa and the eagle were friends.
+
+Waukewa went slowly home to his father's lodge, bearing the wounded
+eaglet in his arms. He carried it so gently that the broken wing gave no
+twinge of pain, and the bird lay perfectly still, never offering to
+strike with its sharp beak the hands that clasped it.
+
+Warming some water over the fire at the lodge, Waukewa bathed the broken
+wing of the eagle, and bound it up with soft strips of skin. Then he
+made a nest of ferns and grass inside the lodge, and laid the bird in
+it. The boy's mother looked on with shining eyes. Her heart was very
+tender. From girlhood she had loved all the creatures of the woods, and
+it pleased her to see some of her own gentle spirit waking in the boy.
+
+When Waukewa's father returned from hunting, he would have caught up the
+young eagle and wrung its neck. But the boy pleaded with him so eagerly,
+stooping over the captive and defending it with his small hands, that
+the stern warrior laughed and called him his "little squaw-heart." "Keep
+it, then," he said, "and nurse it until it is well. But then you must
+let it go, for we will not raise up a thief in the lodges." So Waukewa
+promised that when the eagle's wing was healed and grown so that it
+could fly, he would carry it forth and give it its freedom.
+
+It was a month--or, as the Indians say, a moon--before the young eagle's
+wing had fully mended and the bird was old enough and strong enough to
+fly. And in the meantime Waukewa cared for it and fed it daily, and the
+friendship between the boy and the bird grew very strong.
+
+But at last the time came when the willing captive must be freed. So
+Waukewa carried it far away from the Indian lodges, where none of the
+young braves might see it hovering over and be tempted to shoot their
+arrows at it, and there he let it go. The young eagle rose toward the
+sky in great circles, rejoicing in its freedom and its strange, new
+power of flight. But when Waukewa began to move away from the spot, it
+came swooping down again; and all day long it followed him through the
+woods as he hunted. At dusk, when Waukewa shaped his course for the
+Indian lodges, the eagle would have accompanied him. But the boy
+suddenly slipped into a hollow tree and hid, and after a long time the
+eagle stopped sweeping about in search of him and flew slowly and sadly
+away.
+
+Summer passed, and then winter; and spring came again, with its flowers
+and birds and swarming fish in the lakes and streams. Then it was that
+all the Indians, old and young, braves and squaws, pushed their light
+canoes out from shore and with spear and hook waged pleasant war against
+the salmon and the red-spotted trout. After winter's long imprisonment,
+it was such joy to toss in the sunshine and the warm wind and catch
+savory fish to take the place of dried meats and corn!
+
+Above the great falls of the Apahoqui the salmon sported in the cool,
+swinging current, darting under the lee of the rocks and leaping full
+length in the clear spring air. Nowhere else were such salmon to be
+speared as those which lay among the riffles at the head of the Apahoqui
+rapids. But only the most daring braves ventured to seek them there, for
+the current was strong, and should a light canoe once pass the
+danger-point and get caught in the rush of the rapids, nothing could
+save it from going over the roaring falls.
+
+Very early in the morning of a clear April day, just as the sun was
+rising splendidly over the mountains, Waukewa launched his canoe a
+half-mile above the rapids of the Apahoqui, and floated downward, spear
+in hand, among the salmon-riffles. He was the only one of the Indian
+lads who dared fish above the falls. But he had been there often, and
+never yet had his watchful eye and his strong paddle suffered the
+current to carry his canoe beyond the danger-point. This morning he was
+alone on the river, having risen long before daylight to be first at the
+sport.
+
+The riffles were full of salmon, big, lusty fellows, who glided about
+the canoe on every side in an endless silver stream. Waukewa plunged his
+spear right and left, and tossed one glittering victim after another
+into the bark canoe. So absorbed in the sport was he that for once he
+did not notice when the canoe began to glide more swiftly among the
+rocks. But suddenly he looked up, caught his paddle, and dipped it
+wildly in the swirling water. The canoe swung sidewise, shivered, held
+its own against the torrent, and then slowly, inch by inch, began to
+creep upstream toward the shore. But suddenly there was a loud, cruel
+snap, and the paddle parted in the boy's hands, broken just above the
+blade! Waukewa gave a cry of despairing agony. Then he bent to the
+gunwale of his canoe and with the shattered blade fought desperately
+against the current. But it was useless. The racing torrent swept him
+downward; the hungry falls roared tauntingly in his ears.
+
+Then the Indian boy knelt calmly upright in the canoe, facing the mist
+of the falls, and folded his arms. His young face was stern and lofty.
+He had lived like a brave hitherto--now he would die like one.
+
+Faster and faster sped the doomed canoe toward the great cataract. The
+black rocks glided away on either side like phantoms. The roar of the
+terrible waters became like thunder in the boy's ears. But still he
+gazed calmly and sternly ahead, facing his fate as a brave Indian
+should. At last he began to chant the death-song, which he had learned
+from the older braves. In a few moments all would be over. But he would
+come before the Great Spirit with a fearless hymn upon his lips.
+
+Suddenly a shadow fell across the canoe. Waukewa lifted his eyes and saw
+a great eagle hovering over, with dangling legs, and a spread of wings
+that blotted out the sun. Once more the eyes of the Indian boy and the
+eagle met; and now it was the eagle who was master!
+
+With a glad cry the Indian boy stood up in his canoe, and the eagle
+hovered lower. Now the canoe tossed up on that great swelling wave that
+climbs to the cataract's edge, and the boy lifted his hands and caught
+the legs of the eagle. The next moment he looked down into the awful
+gulf of waters from its very verge. The canoe was snatched from beneath
+him and plunged down the black wall of the cataract; but he and the
+struggling eagle were floating outward and downwards through the cloud
+of mist. The cataract roared terribly, like a wild beast robbed of its
+prey. The spray beat and blinded, the air rushed upward as they fell.
+But the eagle struggled on with his burden. He fought his way out of the
+mist and the flying spray. His great wings threshed the air with a
+whistling sound. Down, down they sank, the boy and the eagle, but ever
+farther from the precipice of water and the boiling whirlpool below. At
+length, with a fluttering plunge, the eagle dropped on a sand-bar below
+the whirlpool, and he and the Indian boy lay there a minute, breathless
+and exhausted. Then the eagle slowly lifted himself, took the air under
+his free wings, and soared away, while the Indian boy knelt on the sand,
+with shining eyes following the great bird till he faded into the gray
+of the cliffs.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 18: By permission from Waukewa's Eagle, by James Buckham, in
+_St. Nicholas_, Vol. XXVIII, Part I, The Century Company.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+[Illustration: THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF]
+
+
+
+
+THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF[19]
+
+
+"YES, sir," said my host the quarryman, reaching down the relics from
+their hook in the wall over the chimney-piece; "they've hung there all
+my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em; they're
+afraid of the story. So here they'll dangle, and gather dust and smoke,
+till another tenant comes and tosses 'em out o' doors for rubbish. Whew!
+'tis coarse weather."
+
+He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat
+upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove
+past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine
+of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the
+relics on my knee. The metal of each was tarnished out of knowledge. But
+the trumpet was evidently an old cavalry trumpet, and the threads of its
+parti-colored sling, though frayed and dusty, still hung together.
+Around the side-drum, beneath its cracked brown varnish, I could hardly
+trace a royal coat-of-arms and a legend running, _Per Mare per
+Terram_--the motto of the Marines. Its parchment, though colored and
+scented with wood-smoke, was limp and mildewed, and I began to tighten
+up the straps--under which the drum-sticks had been loosely thrust
+--with the idle purpose of trying if some music might be got out of the
+old drum yet.
+
+But as I turned it on my knee, I found the drum attached to the
+trumpet-sling by a curious barrel-shaped padlock, and paused to examine
+this. The body of the lock was composed of half a dozen brass rings, set
+accurately edge to edge; and, rubbing the brass with my thumb, I saw
+that each of the six had a series of letters engraved around it.
+
+I knew the trick of it, I thought. Here was one of those word padlocks,
+once so common; only to be opened by getting the rings to spell a
+certain word, which the dealer confides to you.
+
+My host shut and barred the door, and came back to the hearth.
+
+"'Twas just such a wind--east by south--that brought in what you've got
+between your hands. Back in the year 'nine it was; my father has told me
+the tale a score o' times. You're twisting round the rings, I see. But
+you'll never guess the word. Parson Kendall, he made the word, and
+knocked down a couple o' ghosts in their graves with it, and when his
+time came, he went to his own grave and took the word with him."
+
+"Whose ghosts, Matthew?"
+
+"You want the story, I see, sir. My father could tell it better than I
+can. He was a young man in the year 'nine, unmarried at the time, and
+living in this very cottage just as I be. That's how he came to get
+mixed up with the tale."
+
+He took a chair, lit a short pipe, and unfolded the story in a low
+musing voice, with his eyes fixed on the dancing violet flames.
+
+"Yes, he'd ha' been about thirty year old in January of the year 'nine.
+The storm got up in the night o' the twenty-first o' that month. My
+father was dressed and out long before daylight; he never was one to
+'bide in bed, let be that the gale by this time was pretty near lifting
+the thatch over his head. Besides which, he'd fenced a small 'taty-patch
+that winter, down by Lowland Point, and he wanted to see if it stood the
+night's work. He took the path across Gunner's Meadow--where they buried
+most of the bodies afterward. The wind was right in his teeth at the
+time, and once on the way (he's told me this often) a great strip of
+ore-weed came flying through the darkness and fetched him a slap on the
+cheek like a cold hand. But he made shift pretty well till he got to
+Lowland, and then had to drop upon his hands and knees and crawl,
+digging his fingers every now and then into the shingle to hold on, for
+he declared to me that the stones, some of them as big as a man's head,
+kept rolling and driving past till it seemed the whole foreshore was
+moving westward under him. The fence was gone, of course; not a stick
+left to show where it stood; so that, when first he came to the place,
+he thought he must have missed his bearings. My father, sir, was a very
+religious man; and if he reckoned the end of the world was at
+hand--there in the great wind and night, among the moving stones--you
+may believe he was certain of it when he heard a gun fired, and, with
+the same, saw a flame shoot up out of the darkness to windward, making a
+sudden fierce light in all the place about. All he could find to think
+or say was, 'The Second Coming--The Second Coming! The Bridegroom
+cometh, and the wicked He will toss like a ball into a large country!'
+and being already upon his knees, he just bowed his head and 'bided,
+saying this over and over.
+
+"But by'm-by, between two squalls, he made bold to lift his head and
+look, and then by the light--a bluish color 'twas--he saw all the coast
+clear away to Manacle Point, and off the Manacles, in the thick of the
+weather, a sloop-of-war with top-gallants housed, driving stern foremost
+toward the reef. It was she, of course, that was burning the flare. My
+father could see the white streak and the ports of her quite plain as
+she rose to it, a little outside the breakers, and he guessed easy
+enough that her captain had just managed to wear ship, and was trying to
+force her nose to the sea with the help of her small bower anchor and
+the scrap or two of canvas that hadn't yet been blown out of her. But
+while he looked, she fell off, giving her broadside to it foot by foot,
+and drifting back on the breakers around Carn du and the Varses. The
+rocks lie so thick thereabouts, that 'twas a toss up which she struck
+first; at any rate, my father couldn't tell at the time, for just then
+the flare died down and went out.
+
+"Well, sir, he turned then in the dark and started back for Coverack to
+cry the dismal tidings--though well knowing ship and crew to be past any
+hope; and as he turned, the wind lifted him and tossed him forward 'like
+a ball,' as he'd been saying, and homeward along the foreshore. As you
+know, 'tis ugly work, even by daylight, picking your way among the
+stones there, and my father was prettily knocked about at first in the
+dark. But by this 'twas nearer seven than six o'clock, and the day
+spreading. By the time he reached North Corner, a man could see to read
+print; hows'ever he looked neither out to sea nor toward Coverack, but
+headed straight for the first cottage--the same that stands above North
+Corner to-day. A man named Billy Ede lived there then, and when my
+father burst into the kitchen bawling, 'Wreck! wreck!' he saw Billy
+Ede's wife, Ann, standing there in her clogs, with a shawl over her
+head, and her clothes wringing wet.
+
+"'Save the chap!' says Billy Ede's wife, Ann. 'What d' 'ee means by
+crying stale fish at that rate?'
+
+"'But 'tis a wreck. I tell 'ee. I've azeed'n!'
+
+"'Why, so 'tis,' says she, 'and I've azeed'n, too; and so has every one
+with an eye in his head.'
+
+"And with that she pointed straight over my father's shoulder, and he
+turned: and there, close under Dolor Point, at the end of Coverack town,
+he saw another wreck washing, and the Point black with people, like
+emmets, running to and fro in the morning light. While we stood staring
+at her, he heard a trumpet sounded on board, the notes coming in little
+jerks, like a bird rising against the wind; but faintly, of course,
+because of the distance and the gale blowing--though this had dropped a
+little.
+
+"'She's a transport,' said Billy Ede's wife, Ann, 'and full of horse
+soldiers, fine long men. When she struck they must ha' pitched the
+hosses over first to lighten the ship, for a score of dead hosses had
+washed in afore I left, half an hour back. An' three or four soldiers,
+too--fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of blue and gold. I
+held the lantern to one. Such a straight young man.'
+
+"My father asked her about the trumpeting.
+
+"'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me an' my
+man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone; whether they
+were carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't rightly know.
+Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rocks with her decks bare. Her keelson
+was broke under her and her bottom sagged and stove, and she had just
+settled down like a sitting hen--just the leastest list to starboard;
+but a man could stand there easy. They had rigged up ropes across her,
+from bulwark to bulwark, an' beside these the men were mustered, holding
+on like grim death whenever the sea made a clean breach over them, an'
+standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the
+officers were clinging to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their
+golden uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they
+expected. There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of
+line, though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a
+trumpeter, a whacking big man, an' between the heavy seas he would lift
+his trumpet with one hand, and blow a call; and every time he blew the
+men gave a cheer. There (she says)--hark 'ee now--there he goes agen!
+But you won't hear no cheering any more, for few are left to cheer, and
+their voices weak. Bitter cold the wind is, and I reckon it numbs their
+grip o' the ropes, for they were dropping off fast with every sea when
+my man sent me home to get his breakfast. Another wreck, you say? Well,
+there's no hope for the tender dears, if 'tis the Manacles. You'd better
+run down and help yonder; though 'tis little help that any man can give.
+Not one came in alive while I was there. The tide's flowing, an' she
+won't hold together another hour, they say.'
+
+"Well, sure enough, the end was coming fast when my father got down to
+the point. Six men had been cast up alive, or just breathing--a seaman
+and five troopers. The seaman was the only one that had breath to speak;
+and while they were carrying him into the town, the word went round
+that the ship's name was the Despatch, transport, homeward bound from
+Corunna, with a detachment of the 7th Hussars, that had been fighting
+out there with Sir John Moore. The seas had rolled her farther over by
+this time, and given her decks a pretty sharp slope; but a dozen men
+still held on, seven by the ropes near the ship's waist, a couple near
+the break of the poop, and three on the quarter-deck. Of these three my
+father made out one to be the skipper; close by him clung an officer in
+full regimentals--his name, they heard after, was Captain Duncanfield;
+and last came the tall trumpeter; and if you'll believe me, the fellow
+was making shift there, at the very last, to blow _'God Save the King.'_
+What's more, he got to _'Send Us Victorious'_ before an extra big sea
+came bursting across and washed them off the deck--every man but one of
+the pair beneath the poop--and _he_ dropped his hold before the next
+wave; being stunned, I reckon. The others went out of sight at once, but
+the trumpeter--being, as I said, a powerful man as well as a tough
+swimmer--rose like a duck, rode out a couple of breakers, and came in on
+the crest of the third. The folks looked to see him broke like an egg at
+their feet; but when the smother cleared, there he was, lying face
+downward on a ledge below them; and one of the men that happened to have
+a rope round him--I forget the fellow's name, if I ever heard it--jumped
+down and grabbed him by the ankle as he began to slip back. Before the
+next big sea, the pair were hauled high enough to be out of harm, and
+another heave brought them up to grass. Quick work; but master trumpeter
+wasn't quite dead! nothing worse than a cracked head and three staved
+ribs. In twenty minutes or so they had him in bed, with the doctor to
+tend him.
+
+"Now was the time--nothing being left alive upon the transport--for my
+father to tell of the sloop he'd seen driving upon the Manacles. And
+when he got a hearing, though the most were set upon salvage, and
+believed a wreck in the hand, so to say, to be worth half a dozen they
+couldn't see, a good few volunteered to start off with him and have a
+look. They crossed Lowland Point; no ship to be seen on the Manacles,
+nor anywhere upon the sea. One or two was for calling my father a liar.
+'Wait till we come to Dean Point,' said he. Sure enough, on the far side
+of Dean Point, they found the sloop's mainmast washing about with half a
+dozen men lashed to it--men in red jackets--every mother's son drowned
+and staring; and a little farther on, just under the Dean, three or
+four bodies cast up on the shore, one of them a small drummer-boy,
+side-drum and all; and, near by, part of a ship's gig, with 'H. M. S.
+Primrose' cut on the stern-board. From this point on, the shore was
+littered thick with wreckage and dead bodies--the most of them marines
+in uniform; and in Godrevy Cove in particular, a heap of furniture from
+the captain's cabin, and among it a water-tight box, not much damaged,
+and full of papers, by which, when it came to be examined next day, the
+wreck was easily made out to be the Primrose of eighteen guns, outward
+bound from Portsmouth, with a fleet of transports for the Spanish War,
+thirty sail, I've heard, but I've never heard what became of them. Being
+handled by merchant skippers, no doubt they rode out the gale and
+reached the Tagus safe and sound. Not but what the captain of the
+Primrose (Mein was his name) did quite right to try and club-haul his
+vessel when he found himself under the land; only he never ought to have
+got there if he took proper soundings. But it's easy talking.
+
+"The Primrose, sir, was a handsome vessel--for her size, one of the
+handsomest in the King's service--and newly fitted out at Plymouth Dock.
+So the boys had brave pickings from her in the way of brass-work,
+ship's instruments, and the like, let alone some barrels of stores not
+much spoiled. They loaded themselves with as much as they could carry,
+and started for home, meaning to make a second journey before the
+preventive men got wind of their doings and came to spoil the fun. But
+as my father was passing back under the Dean, he happened to take a look
+over his shoulder at the bodies there. 'Hullo,' says he, and dropped his
+gear, 'I do believe there's a leg moving!' And, running fore, he stooped
+over the small drummer-boy that I told you about. The poor little chap
+was lying there, with his face a mass of bruises and his eyes closed:
+but he had shifted one leg an inch or two, and was still breathing. So
+my father pulled out a knife and cut him free from his drum--that was
+lashed on to him with a double turn of Manilla rope--and took him up and
+carried him along here, to this very room that we're sitting in. He lost
+a good deal by this, for when he went back to fetch his bundle the
+preventive men had got hold of it, and were thick as thieves along the
+foreshore; so that 'twas only by paying one or two to look the other way
+that he picked up anything worth carrying off: which you'll allow to be
+hard, seeing that he was the first man to give news of the wreck.
+
+"Well, the inquiry was held, of course, and my father gave evidence, and
+for the rest they had to trust to the sloop's papers, for not a soul was
+saved besides the drummer-boy, and he was raving in a fever, brought on
+by the cold and the fright. And the seamen and the five troopers gave
+evidence about the loss of the Despatch. The tall trumpeter, too, whose
+ribs were healing, came forward and kissed the book; but somehow his
+head had been hurt in coming ashore, and he talked foolish-like, and
+'twas easy seen he would never be a proper man again. The others were
+taken up to Plymouth, and so went their ways; but the trumpeter stayed
+on in Coverick; and King George, finding he was fit for nothing, sent
+him down a trifle of a pension after a while--enough to keep him in
+board and lodging, with a bit of tobacco over.
+
+"Now the first time that this man--William Tallifer, he called
+himself--met with the drummer-boy, was about a fortnight after the
+little chap had bettered enough to be allowed a short walk out of doors,
+which he took, if you please, in full regimentals. There never was a
+soldier so proud of his dress. His own suit had shrunk a brave bit with
+the salt water; but into ordinary frock an' corduroys he declared he
+would not get--not if he had to go naked the rest of his life; so my
+father, being a good-natured man and handy with the needle, turned to
+and repaired damages with a piece or two of scarlet cloth cut from the
+jacket of one of the drowned Marines. Well, the poor little chap chanced
+to be standing, in this rig-out, down by the gate of Gunner's Meadow,
+where they had buried two-score and over of his comrades. The morning
+was a fine one, early in March month; and along came the cracked
+trumpeter, likewise taking a stroll.
+
+"'Hullo!' says he; 'good-mornin'! And what might you be doin' here?'
+
+"'I was a-wishin',' says the boy, 'I had a pair o' drumsticks. Our lads
+were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a musket fired;
+and that's not Christian burial for British soldiers.'
+
+"'Phut!' says the trumpeter, and spat on the ground; 'a parcel of
+Marines!'
+
+"The boy eyed him a second or so, but answered up: 'If I'd a tab of turf
+handy, I'd bung it at your mouth, you greasy cavalryman, and learn you
+to speak respectful of your betters. The Marines are the handiest body
+of men in the service.'
+
+"The trumpeter looked down on him from the height of six foot two, and
+asked: 'Did they die well?'
+
+"'They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first,
+and some of the men began to cry, and a few to strip off their clothes.
+But when the ship fell off for the last time, Captain Mein turned and
+said something to Major Griffiths, the commanding officer on board, and
+the Major called out to me to beat to quarters. It might have been for a
+wedding, he sang it out so cheerful. We'd had word already that 'twas to
+be parade order, and the men fell in as trim and decent as if they were
+going to church. One or two even tried to shave at the last moment. The
+Major wore his medals. One of the seamen, seeing that I had hard work to
+keep the drum steady--the sling being a bit loose for me and the wind
+what you remember--lashed it tight with a piece of rope; and that saved
+my life afterward, a drum being as good as a cork until it's stove. I
+kept beating away until every man was on deck; and then the Major formed
+them up and told them to die like British soldiers, and the chaplain
+read a prayer or two--the boys standin' all the while like rocks, each
+man's courage keeping up the other's. The chaplain was in the middle of
+a prayer when she struck. In ten minutes she was gone. That was how they
+died, cavalryman.'
+
+"'And that was very well done, drummer of the Marines. What's your
+name?'
+
+"'John Christian.'
+
+"'Mine's William George Tallifer, trumpeter, of the 7th Light
+Dragoons--the Queen's Own. I played _'God Save the King'_ while our men
+were drowning. Captain Duncanfield told me to sound a call or two, to
+put them in heart; but that matter of _'God Save the King'_ was a notion
+of my own. I won't say anything to hurt the feelings of a Marine, even
+if he's not much over five foot tall; but the Queen's Own Hussars is a
+tearin' fine regiment. As between horse and foot 'tis a question o'
+which gets the chance. All the way from Sahagun to Corunna 'twas we that
+took and gave the knocks--at Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.' (The
+reason, sir, I can speak the names so pat is that my father learnt 'em
+by heart afterward from the trumpeter, who was always talking about
+Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.) 'We made the rearguard, under General
+Paget, and drove the French every time; and all the infantry did was to
+sit about in wine-shops till we whipped 'em out, an' steal an' straggle
+an' play the tom-fool in general. And when it came to a stand-up fight
+at Corunna, 'twas we that had to stay sea-sick aboard the transports,
+an' watch the infantry in the thick o' the caper. Very well they
+behaved, too; 'specially the 4th Regiment, an' the 42d Highlanders, an'
+the Dirty Half-Hundred. Oh, ay; they're decent regiments, all three. But
+the Queen's Own Hussars is a tearin' fine regiment. So you played on
+your drum when the ship was goin' down? Drummer John Christian, I'll
+have to get you a new pair o' drum-sticks for that.'
+
+"Well, sir, it appears that the very next day the trumpeter marched into
+Helston, and got a carpenter there to turn him a pair of box-wood
+drum-sticks for the boy. And this was the beginning of one of the most
+curious friendships you ever heard tell of. Nothing delighted the pair
+more than to borrow a boat of my father and pull out to the rocks where
+the Primrose and the Despatch had struck and sunk; and on still days
+'twas pretty to hear them out there off the Manacles, the drummer
+playing his tattoo--for they always took their music with them--and the
+trumpeter practising calls, and making his trumpet speak like an angel.
+But if the weather turned roughish, they'd be walking together and
+talking; leastwise, the youngster listened while the other discoursed
+about Sir John's campaign in Spain and Portugal, telling how each little
+skirmish befell; and of Sir John himself, and General Baird and General
+Paget, and Colonel Vivian his own commanding officer, and what kind men
+they were; and of the last bloody stand-up at Corunna, and so forth, as
+if neither could have enough.
+
+"But all this had to come to an end in the late summer, for the boy,
+John Christian, being now well and strong again, must go up to Plymouth
+to report himself. 'Twas his own wish (for I believe King George had
+forgotten all about him), but his friend wouldn't hold him back. As for
+the trumpeter, my father had made an arrangement to take him on as a
+lodger as soon as the boy left; and on the morning fixed for the start
+he was up at the door here by five o'clock, with his trumpet slung by
+his side, and all the rest of his belongings in a small valise. A Monday
+morning it was, and after breakfast he had fixed to walk with the boy
+some way on the road toward Helston, where the coach started. My father
+left them at breakfast together, and went out to meat the pig, and do a
+few odd morning jobs of that sort. When he came back, the boy was still
+at table, and the trumpeter standing here by the chimney-place with the
+drum and trumpet in his hands, hitched together just as they be at this
+moment.
+
+"'Look at this,' he says to my father, showing him the lock; 'I picked
+it up off a starving brass-worker in Lisbon, and it is not one of your
+common locks that one word of six letters will open at any time. There's
+_janius_ in this lock; for you've only to make the ring spell any
+six-letter word you please, and snap down the lock upon that, and never
+a soul can open it--not the maker, even--until somebody comes along that
+knows the word you snapped it on. Now, Johnny, here's goin', and he
+leaves his drum behind him; for, though he can make pretty music on it,
+the parchment sags in wet weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at
+it; an' if he carries it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give
+him another. And as for me, I shan't have the heart to put lip to the
+trumpet any more when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together,
+and locked 'em together upon that; and, by your leave, I'll hang 'em
+here together on the hook over your fireplace. Maybe Johnny'll come
+back; maybe not. Maybe, if he comes, I'll be dead an' gone, an' he'll
+take 'em apart an' try their music for old sake's sake. But if he never
+comes, nobody can separate 'em; for nobody besides knows the word. And
+if you marry and have sons, you can tell 'em that here are tied together
+the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer, of the Marines, and William
+George Tallifer, once trumpeter of the Queen's Own Hussars. Amen.'
+
+"With that he hung the two instruments 'pon the hook there; and the boy
+stood up and thanked my father and shook hands; and the pair went forth
+of the door, toward Helston.
+
+"Somewhere on the road they took leave of one another; but nobody saw
+the parting, nor heard what was said between them. About three in the
+afternoon the trumpeter came walking back over the hill; and by the time
+my father came home from the fishing, the cottage was tidied up and the
+tea ready, and the whole place shining like a new pin. From that time
+for five years he lodged here with my father, looking after the house
+and tilling the garden; and all the while he was steadily failing, the
+hurt in his head spreading, in a manner, to his limbs. My father watched
+the feebleness growing on him, but said nothing. And from first to last
+neither spake a word about the drummer, John Christian; nor did any
+letter reach them, nor word of his doings.
+
+     "The rest of the tale you'm free to believe, sir, or not, as you
+     please. It stands upon my father's words, and he always declared he
+     was ready to kiss the Book upon it before judge and jury. He said,
+     too, that he never had the wit to make up such a yarn; and he
+     defied any one to explain about the lock, in particular, by any
+     other tale. But you shall judge for yourself.
+
+
+"My father said that about three o'clock in the morning, April
+fourteenth of the year 'fourteen, he and William Tallifer were sitting
+here, just as you and I, sir, are sitting now. My father had put on his
+clothes a few minutes before, and was mending his spiller by the light
+of the horn lantern, meaning to set off before daylight to haul the
+trammel. The trumpeter hadn't been to bed at all. Toward the last he
+mostly spent his nights (and his days, too) dozing in the elbow-chair
+where you sit at this minute. He was dozing then (my father said), with
+his chin dropped forward on his chest, when a knock sounded upon the
+door, and the door opened, and in walked an upright young man in scarlet
+regimentals.
+
+"He had grown a brave bit, and his face was the color of wood-ashes; but
+it was the drummer, John Christian. Only his uniform was different from
+the one he used to wear, and the figures '38' shone in brass upon his
+collar.
+
+"The drummer walked past my father as if he never saw him, and stood by
+the elbow-chair and said:
+
+"'Trumpeter, trumpeter, are you one with me?'
+
+"And the trumpeter just lifted the lids of his eyes, and answered, 'How
+should I not be one with you, drummer Johnny--Johnny boy? The men are
+patient. 'Til you come, I count; you march, I mark time until the
+discharge comes.'
+
+"'The discharge has come to-night,' said the drummer, 'and the word is
+Corunna no longer;' and stepping to the chimney-place, he unhooked the
+drum and trumpet, and began to twist the brass rings of the lock,
+spelling the word aloud, so--C-O-R-U-N-A. When he had fixed the last
+letter, the padlock opened in his hand.
+
+"'Did you know, trumpeter, that when I came to Plymouth they put me into
+a line regiment.'
+
+"'The 38th is a good regiment,' answered the old Hussar, still in his
+dull voice. 'I went back with them from Sahagun to Corunna. At Corunna
+they stood in General Fraser's division, on the right. They behaved
+well.'
+
+"'But I'd fain see the Marines again,' says the drummer, handing him the
+trumpet, 'and you--you shall call once more for the Queen's Own.
+Matthew,' he says, suddenly, turning on my father--and when he turned,
+my father saw for the first time that his scarlet jacket had a round
+hole by the breast-bone, and that the blood was welling there--'Matthew,
+we shall want your boat.'
+
+"Then my father rose on his legs like a man in a dream, while they two
+slung on, the one his drum, and t'other his trumpet. He took the
+lantern, and went quaking before them down to the shore, and they
+breathed heavily behind him; and they stepped into his boat, and my
+father pushed off.
+
+"'Row you first for Dolor Point,' says the drummer. So my father rowed
+them out past the white houses of Coverack to Dolor Point, and there, at
+a word, lay on his oars. And the trumpeter, William Tallifer, put his
+trumpet to his mouth and sounded the _Revelly_. The music of it was like
+rivers running.
+
+"'They will follow,' said the drummer. 'Matthew, pull you now for the
+Manacles.'
+
+"So my father pulled for the Manacles, and came to an easy close outside
+Carn du. And the drummer took his sticks and beat a tattoo, there by the
+edge of the reef; and the music of it was like a rolling chariot.
+
+"'That will do,' says he, breaking off; 'they will follow. Pull now for
+the shore under Gunner's Meadow.'
+
+"Then my father pulled for the shore, and ran his boat in under Gunner's
+Meadow. And they stepped out, all three, and walked up to the meadow. By
+the gate the drummer halted and began his tattoo again, looking out
+toward the darkness over the sea.
+
+"And while the drum beat, and my father held his breath, there came up
+out of the sea and the darkness a troop of many men, horse and foot, and
+formed up among the graves; and others rose out of the graves and formed
+up--drowned Marines with bleached faces, and pale Hussars riding their
+horses, all lean and shadowy. There was no clatter of hoofs or
+accoutrements, my father said, but a soft sound all the while, like the
+beating of a bird's wing and a black shadow lying like a pool about the
+feet of all. The drummer stood upon a little knoll just inside the gate,
+and beside him the tall trumpeter, with hand on hip, watching them
+gather; and behind them both my father, clinging to the gate. When no
+more came the drummer stopped playing, and said, 'Call the roll.'
+
+"Then the trumpeter stepped toward the end man of the rank and called,
+'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons,' and the man in a thin voice
+answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons, how is it with you?'
+
+"The man answered, 'How should it be with me? When I was young, I
+betrayed a girl; and when I was grown, I betrayed a friend, and for
+these things I must pay. But I died as a man ought. God save the King!'
+
+"The trumpeter called to the next man, 'Trooper Henry Buckingham', and
+the next man answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Trooper Henry Buckingham, how is it with you?'
+
+"'How should it be with me? I was a drunkard, and I stole, and in Lugo,
+in a wine-shop, I knifed a man. But I died as a man should. God save the
+King!'
+
+"So the trumpeter went down the line; and when he had finished, the
+drummer took it up, hailing the dead Marines in their order. Each man
+answered to his name, and each man ended with 'God save the King!' When
+all were hailed, the drummer stepped back to his mound, and called:
+
+"'It is well. You are content, and we are content to join you. Wait yet
+a little while.'
+
+"With this he turned and ordered my father to pick up the lantern, and
+lead the way back. As my father picked it up, he heard the ranks of
+dead men cheer and call, 'God save the King!' all together, and saw them
+waver and fade back into the dark, like a breath fading off a pane.
+
+"But when they came back here to the kitchen, and my father set the
+lantern down, it seemed they'd both forgot about him. For the drummer
+turned in the lantern-light--and my father could see the blood still
+welling out of the hole in his breast--and took the trumpet-sling from
+around the other's neck, and locked drum and trumpet together again,
+choosing the letters on the lock very carefully. While he did this he
+said:
+
+"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an "n" in
+Corunna, so must I leave out an "n" in Bayonne.' And before snapping the
+padlock, he spelt out the word slowly--'B-A-Y-O-N-E.' After that, he
+used no more speech; but turned and hung the two instruments back on the
+hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm; and the pair walked out
+into the darkness, glancing neither to right nor left.
+
+"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of sigh
+behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the very
+trumpeter he had just seen walk out by the door! If my father's heart
+jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now. But after a bit,
+he went up to the man asleep in the chair, and put a hand upon him. It
+was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he touched; but though the
+flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father was
+minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it). But the day
+after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from Helston market: and
+the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news the coach brought down
+this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father. 'Why, that peace is agreed
+upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father. 'Not soon enough for our poor
+lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered. 'Bayonne!' cries my father, with
+a jump. 'Why, yes;' and the parson told him all about a great sally the
+French had made on the night of April 13th. 'Do you happen to know if
+the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said
+Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the campaign. But,
+as it happens, I _do_ know that the 38th was engaged, for 'twas they
+that held a cottage and stopped the French advance.'
+
+"Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked into
+Helston and bought a _Mercury_ off the Sherborne rider, and got the
+landlord of the Angel to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure
+enough, there among the killed was Drummer John Christian, of the 38th
+Foot.
+
+"After this there was nothing for a religious man but to make a clean
+breast. So my father went up to Parson Kendall and told the whole story.
+The parson listened, and put a question or two, and then asked:
+
+"'Have you tried to open the lock since that night?'
+
+"'I han't dared to touch it,' says my father.
+
+"'Then come along and try.' When the parson came to the cottage here, he
+took the things off the hook and tried the lock. 'Did he say
+_"Bayonne"?_ The word has seven letters.'
+
+"'Not if you spell it with one "n" as _he_ did,' says my father.
+
+"The parson spelt it out--B-A-Y-O-N-E. 'Whew!' says he, for the lock had
+fallen open in his hand.
+
+"He stood considering it a moment, and then he said, 'I tell you what. I
+shouldn't blab this all round the parish, if I was you. You won't get no
+credit for truth-telling, and a miracle's wasted on a set of fools. But
+if you like, I'll shut down the lock again upon a holy word that no one
+but me shall know, and neither drummer nor trumpeter, dead nor alive,
+shall frighten the secret out of me.'
+
+"'I wish to gracious you would, parson,' said my father.
+
+"The parson chose the holy word there and then, and shut the lock back
+upon it, and hung the drum and trumpet back in their place. He is gone
+long since, taking the word with him. And till the lock is broken by
+force, nobody will ever separate those twain."
+
+[Illustration: HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 19: From _The Wandering Heath,_ by Arthur Quiller-Couch.
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN[20]
+
+
+THE moon was near her setting as a tall, broad-shouldered man called
+Jan Brewer was walking home to Constantine Bay to his cottage on the
+edge of the cliff.
+
+He was singing an old song to himself as he went along, and he sang till
+he drew near the ruins of Constantine Church, standing on a sandy common
+near the bay. As he drew near the remains of this ancient church, which
+were clearly seen in the moonshine, he thought he heard some one
+laughing, but he was not quite sure, for the sea was roaring on the
+beach below the common, and the waves were making a loud noise as they
+dashed up the great headland of Trevose.
+
+"I was mistaken; 'twas nobody laughing," said Jan to himself, and he
+walked on again, singing as before; and he sang till he came near a
+gate, which opened into a field leading to his cottage, but when he got
+there he could not see the gate or the gateway.
+
+"I was so taken up with singing the old song, that I must have missed my
+way," he said again to himself. "I'll go back to the head of the common
+and start afresh," which he did; and when he got to the place where his
+gate ought to have been, he could not find it to save his life.
+
+"I must be clean _mazed_,"[21] he cried. "I have never got out of my
+reckoning before, nor missed finding my way to our gate, even when the
+night has been as dark as pitch. It isn't at all dark to-night; I can
+see Trevose Head--and yet I can't see my own little gate! But I en't
+a-going to be done; I'll go round and round this common till I _do_ find
+my gate."
+
+And round and round the common he went, but find his gate he could not.
+
+Every time he passed the ruins of the church a laugh came up from the
+pool below the ruins, and once he thought he saw a dancing light on the
+edge of the pool, where a lot of reeds and rushes were growing.
+
+"The Little Man in the Lantern is about to-night,"[22] he said to
+himself, as he glanced at the pool. "But I never knew he was given to
+laughing before."
+
+Once more he went round the common, and when he had passed the ruins he
+heard giggling and laughing, this time quite close to him; and looking
+down on the grass, he saw to his astonishment hundreds of Little Men and
+Little Women with tiny lights in their hands, which they were
+_flinking_[23] about as they laughed and giggled.
+
+The Little Men wore stocking-caps, the color of ripe briar berries, and
+grass-green coats, and the Little Women had on old grandmother cloaks of
+the same vivid hue as the Wee Men's coats, and they also wore little
+scarlet hoods.
+
+"I believe the great big chap sees us," said one of the Little Men,
+catching sight of Jan's astonished face. "He must be Piskey-eyed, and we
+did not know it."
+
+"Is he really?" cried one of the _Dinky_[24] Women. "'Tis a pity, but
+we'll have our game over him just the same."
+
+"That we will," cried all the Little Men and Little Women in one voice;
+and, forming a ring round the great tall fellow, they began to dance
+round him, laughing, giggling and flashing up their lights as they
+danced.
+
+They went round him so fast that poor Jan was quite bewildered, and
+whichever way he looked there were these Little Men and Little Women
+giggling up into his bearded face. And when he tried to break through
+their ring they went before him and behind him, making a game over him.
+
+He was at their mercy and they knew it; and when they saw the great
+fellow's misery, they only laughed and giggled the more.
+
+"We've got him!" they cried to each other, and they said it with such
+gusto and with such a comical expression on their tiny brown faces, that
+Jan, bewildered as he was, and tired with going round the common so many
+times, could not help laughing, they looked so very funny, particularly
+when the Little Women winked up at him from under their little scarlet
+hoods.
+
+The Piskeys--for they were Piskeys[25]--hurried him down the common,
+dancing round him all the time; and when he got there he felt so
+mizzy-mazey with those tiny whirling figures going round and round him
+like a whirligig, that he did not know whether he was standing on his
+head or his heels. He was also in a bath of perspiration--"sweating
+leaking," he said--and, putting his hand in his pocket to take out a
+handkerchief to mop his face, he remembered having been told that, if
+he ever got Piskey-laden, he must turn his coat pockets inside out,
+then he would be free at once from his Piskey tormentors. And
+in a minute or less his coat-pockets were hanging out, and all the
+Little Men and the Little Women had vanished, and there, right in front
+of him, he saw his own gate! He lost no time in opening it, and in a
+very short time was in his thatched cottage on the cliff.
+
+[Illustration: MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 20: From _Legends and Tales of North Cornwall_, by Enys
+Tregarthen. Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.]
+
+[Footnote 21: Mad.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Jack-o'-Lantern. Will-o'-the-Wisp. The Piskey Puck. Some
+say he walks about carrying a lantern, others, that he goes over the
+moors _in_ his lantern.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Waving.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Little.]
+
+[Footnote 25: In Cornwall, these "little Ancient People" are called
+_Piskeys_. In England and Ireland, _Pixies_.]
+
+
+
+
+MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY[26]
+
+A DROLL
+
+
+'TIS the nicest miss in the world that I was born grandson of my own
+father's father, and not of another man altogether.
+
+Hendry Watty was the name of my grandfather that might have been; and he
+always maintained that to all intents and purposes he _was_ my
+grandfather, and made me call him so--'twas such a narrow shave. I don't
+mind telling you about it. 'Tis a curious tale, too.
+
+
+My grandfather, Hendry Watty, bet four gallons of eggy-hot that he would
+row out to the Shivering Grounds, all in the dead waste of the night,
+and haul a trammel there. To find the Shivering Grounds by night, you
+get the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna and pull out till you open
+the light on St. Anthony's Point; but everybody gives the place a wide
+berth because Archelaus Rowett's lugger foundered there one time, with
+six hands on board; and they say that at night you can hear the drowned
+men hailing their names. But my grandfather was the boldest man in Port
+Loe, and said he didn't care. So one Christmas Eve by daylight he and
+his mates went out and tilled the trammel; and then they came back and
+spent the forepart of the evening over the eggy-hot, down to Oliver's
+tiddly-wink,[27] to keep my grandfather's spirits up and also to show
+that the bet was made in earnest.
+
+'Twas past eleven o'clock when they left Oliver's and walked down to the
+cove to see my grandfather off. He has told me since that he didn't feel
+afraid at all, but very friendly in mind, especially toward William John
+Dunn, who was walking on his right hand. This puzzled him at the first,
+for as a rule he didn't think much of William John Dunn. But now he
+shook hands with him several times, and just as he was stepping into the
+boat he says, "You'll take care of Mary Polly while I'm away." Mary
+Polly Polsue was my grandfather's sweetheart at that time. But why my
+grandfather should have spoken as if he was bound on a long voyage he
+never could tell; he used to set it down to fate.
+
+"I will," said William John Dunn; and then they gave a cheer and pushed
+my grandfather off, and he lit his pipe and away he rowed all into the
+dead waste of the night. He rowed and rowed, all in the dead waste the
+night; and he got the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna windows; and
+still he was rowing, when to his great surprise he heard a voice
+calling:
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"_
+
+I told you my grandfather was the boldest man in Port Loe. But he
+dropped his two oars now, and made the five signs of Penitence. For who
+could it be calling him out here in the dead waste and middle of the
+night?
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line_."
+
+My grandfather kept his fishing-lines in a little skivet under the
+stern-sheets. But not a trace of bait had he on board. If he had, he was
+too much a-tremble to bait a hook.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line, or I'll know why_."
+
+My poor grandfather had by this picked up his oars again, and was rowing
+like mad to get quit of the neighborhood, when something or somebody
+gave three knocks--_thump, thump, thump!_--on the bottom of the boat,
+just as you would knock on a door.
+
+The third thump fetched Hendry Watty upright on his legs. He had no
+more heart for disobeying, but having bitten his pipe-stem in half by
+this time--his teeth chattered so--he baited his hook with the broken
+bit and flung it overboard, letting the line run out in the stern-notch.
+Not half-way had it run before he felt a long pull on it, like the
+sucking of a dog-fish.
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! pull me in."_
+
+Hendry Watty pulled in hand over fist, and in came the lead sinker over
+the notch, and still the line was heavy; he pulled and he pulled, and
+next, all out of the dead waste of the night, came two white hands, like
+a washerwoman's, and gripped hold of the stern-board; and on the left of
+these two hands, was a silver ring, sunk very deep in the flesh. If this
+was bad, worse was the face that followed--and if this was bad for
+anybody, it was worse for my grandfather who had known Archelaus Rowett
+before he was drowned out on the Shivering Grounds, six years before.
+
+Archelaus Rowett climbed in over the stern, pulled the hook with the bit
+of pipe-stem out of his cheek, sat down in the stern-sheets, shook a
+small crayfish out of his whiskers, and said very coolly: "If you should
+come across my wife--"
+
+That was all that my grandfather stayed to hear. At the sound of
+Archelaus's voice he fetched a yell, jumped clean over the side of the
+boat and swam for dear life. He swam and swam, till by the bit of the
+moon he saw the Gull Rock close ahead. There were lashin's of rats on
+the Gull Rock, as he knew; but he was a good deal surprised at the way
+they were behaving, for they sat in a row at the water's edge and
+fished, with their tails let down into the sea for fishing-lines; and
+their eyes were like garnets burning as they looked at my grandfather
+over their shoulders.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! you can't land here--you're disturbing the
+pollack."
+
+"Bejimbers! I wouldn' do that for the world," says my grandfather; so
+off he pushes and swims for the mainland. This was a long job, and it
+was as much as he could do to reach Kibberick beach, where he fell on
+his face and hands among the stones, and there lay, taking breath.
+
+The breath was hardly back in his body before he heard footsteps, and
+along the beach came a woman, and passed close by to him. He lay very
+quiet, and as she came near he saw 'twas Sarah Rowett, that used to be
+Archelaus's wife, but had married another man since. She was knitting as
+she went by, and did not seem to notice my grandfather; but he heard her
+say to herself, "The hour is come, and the man is come."
+
+He had scarcely begun to wonder over this when he spied a ball of
+worsted yarn beside him that Sarah had dropped. 'Twas the ball she was
+knitting from, and a line of worsted stretched after her along the
+beach. Hendry Watty picked up the ball and followed the thread on
+tiptoe. In less than a minute he came near enough to watch what she was
+doing; and what she did was worth watching. First she gathered wreckwood
+and straw, and struck flint over touchwood and teened a fire. Then she
+unraveled her knitting; twisted her end of the yarn between finger and
+thumb--like a cobbler twisting a wax-end--and cast the end up towards
+the sky. It made Hendry Watty stare when the thread, instead of falling
+back to the ground, remained hanging, just as if 'twas fastened to
+something up above; but it made him stare still more when Sarah Rowett
+began to climb up it, and away up till nothing could be seen of her but
+her ankles dangling out of the dead waste and middle of the night.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY!"
+
+It wasn't Sarah calling, but a voice far away out to sea.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _send
+    me a line!"_
+
+My grandfather was wondering what to do, when Sarah speaks down very
+sharp to him, out of the dark:
+
+"Hendry Watty! where's the rocket apparatus? Can't you hear the poor
+fellow asking for a line?"
+
+"I do," says my grandfather, who was beginning to lose his temper; "and
+do you think, ma'am, that I carry a Boxer's rocket in my trousers
+pocket?"
+
+"I think you have a ball of worsted in your hand," says she. "Throw it
+as far as you can."
+
+So my grandfather threw the ball out into the dead waste and middle of
+the night. He didn't see where it pitched, or how far it went.
+
+"Right it is," says the woman aloft. "'Tis easy seen you're a hurler.
+But what shall us do for a cradle?[28] Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"
+
+"Ma'am to _you,"_ said my grandfather.
+
+"If you have the common feelings of a gentleman, I'll ask you to turn
+your back; I'm going to take off my stocking."
+
+So my grandfather stared the other way very politely; and when he was
+told he might look again, he saw she had tied the stocking to the line
+and was running it out like a cradle into the dead waste of the night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+Before he could answer, plump! a man's leg came tumbling past his ear
+and scattered the ashes right and left.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas a great white arm and hand, with a silver ring sunk
+tight in the flesh of the little finger.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! warm them limbs!"
+
+My grandfather picked them up and was warming them before the fire, when
+down came tumbling a great round head and bounced twice and lay in the
+firelight, staring up at him. And whose head was it but Archelaus
+Rowett's, that he'd run away from once already that night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas another leg, and my grandfather was just about to lay
+hands on it, when the woman called down:
+
+"Hendry Watty! catch it quick! It's my own leg I've thrown down by
+mistake."
+
+The leg struck the ground and bounced high, and Hendry Watty made a leap
+after it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And I reckon it's asleep he must have been; for what he caught was not
+Mrs. Rowett's leg, but the jib-boom of a deep-laden brigantine that was
+running him down in the dark. And as he sprang for it, his boat was
+crushed by the brigantine's fore-foot and went down under his very
+boot-soles. At the same time he let out a yell, and two or three of the
+crew ran forward and hoisted him up to the bowsprit and in on deck, safe
+and sound.
+
+But the brigantine happened to be outward bound for the River Plate; so
+that, with one thing and another, 'twas eleven good months before my
+grandfather landed again at Port Loe. And who should be the first man he
+sees standing above the cove but William John Dunn.
+
+"I'm very glad to see you," says William John Dunn.
+
+"Thank you kindly," answers my grandfather; "and how's Mary Polly?"
+
+"Why, as for that," he says, "she took so much looking after, that I
+couldn't feel I was properly keeping her under my eye till I married
+her, last June month."
+
+"You was always one to over-do things," said my grandfather.
+
+"But if you was alive an' well, why didn' you drop us a line?"
+
+Now when it came to talk about "dropping a line," my grandfather fairly
+lost his temper. So he struck William John Dunn on the nose--a thing he
+had never been known to do before--and William John Dunn hit him back,
+and the neighbors had to separate them. And next day, William John Dunn
+took out a summons against him. Well, the case was tried before the
+magistrates: and my grandfather told his story from the beginning, quite
+straightforward, just as I've told it to you. And the magistrates
+decided that, taking one thing and another, he'd had a great deal of
+provocation, and fined him five shillings. And there the matter ended.
+But now you know the reason why I'm William John Dunn's grandson instead
+of Hendry Watty's.
+
+[Illustration: CHILDE ROWLAND]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 26: From _The Wandering Heath_, by Arthur Quiller-Couch;
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Beer-house.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Breeches buoy.]
+
+
+
+
+CHILDE ROWLAND[29]
+
+    Childe Rowland and his brothers twain
+      Were playing at the ball,
+    And there was their sister Burd Ellen
+      In the midst, among them all.
+
+    Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot
+      And caught it with his knee;
+    At last as he plunged among them all
+      O'er the church he made it flee.
+
+    Burd Ellen round about the aisle
+      To seek the ball is gone,
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      And she came not back again.
+
+    They sought her east, they sought her west,
+      They sought her up and down,
+    And woe were the hearts of those brethren,
+      For she was not to be found.
+
+SO at last her eldest brother went to the Warlock Merlin and told him
+all the case, and asked him if he knew where Burd Ellen was. "The fair
+Burd Ellen," said the Warlock Merlin, "must have been carried off by the
+fairies, because she went round the church 'widershins'--the opposite
+way to the sun. She is now in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland; it
+would take the boldest knight in Christendom to bring her back."
+
+"If it is possible to bring her back," said her brother, "I'll do it, or
+perish in the attempt."
+
+"Possible it is," said the Warlock Merlin, "but woe to the man or
+mother's son that attempts it, if he is not well taught beforehand what
+he is to do."
+
+The eldest brother of Burd Ellen was not to be put off, by any fear of
+danger, from attempting to get her back, so he begged the Warlock Merlin
+to tell him what he should do, and what he should not do, in going to
+seek his sister. And after he had been taught, and had repeated his
+lesson, he set out for Elfland.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With doubt and muckle pain,
+    But woe were the hearts of his brethren,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+Then the second brother got tired and tired of waiting, and he went to
+the Warlock Merlin and asked him the same as his brother. So he set out
+to find Burd Ellen.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With muckle doubt and pain,
+    And woe were his mother's and brother's heart,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+And when they had waited and waited a good long time, Childe Rowland,
+the youngest of Burd Ellen's brothers, wished to go, and went to his
+mother, the good queen, to ask her to let him go. But she would not at
+first, for he was the last and dearest of her children, and if he was
+lost, all would be lost. But he begged, and he begged, till at last the
+good queen let him go, and gave him his father's good brand that never
+struck in vain, and as she girt it round his waist, she said the spell
+that would give it victory.
+
+So Childe Rowland said good-by to the good queen, his mother, and went
+to the cave of the Warlock Merlin. "Once more, and but once more," he
+said to the Warlock, "tell how man or mother's son may rescue Burd Ellen
+and her brothers twain."
+
+"Well, my son," said the Warlock Merlin, "there are but two things,
+simple they may seem, but hard they are to do. One thing to do, and one
+thing not to do. And the thing to do is this: after you have entered the
+land of Fairy, whoever speaks to you, till you meet the Burd Ellen, you
+must out with your father's brand and off with their head. And what
+you've not to do is this: bite no bit, and drink no drop, however hungry
+or thirsty you be; drink a drop or bite a bit, while in Elfland you be
+and never will you see Middle Earth again."
+
+So Childe Rowland said the two things over and over again, till he knew
+them by heart, and he thanked the Warlock Merlin and went on his way.
+And he went along, and along, and along, and still further along, till
+he came to the horse-herd of the King of Elfland feeding his horses.
+These he knew by their fiery eyes, and knew that he was at last in the
+land of Fairy. "Canst thou tell me," said Childe Rowland to the
+horse-herd, "where the King of Elfland's Dark Tower is?" "I cannot tell
+thee," said the horse-herd, "but go on a little further and thou wilt
+come to the cow-herd, and he, maybe, can tell thee."
+
+Then, without a word more, Childe Rowland drew the good brand that never
+struck in vain, and off went the horse-herd's head, and Childe Rowland
+went on further, till he came to the cow-herd, and asked him the same
+question. "I can't tell thee," said he, "but go on a little further, and
+thou wilt come to the hen-wife, and she is sure to know." Then Childe
+Rowland out with his good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went
+the cow-herd's head. And he went on a little further, till he came to an
+old woman in a gray cloak, and he asked her if she knew where the Dark
+Tower of the King of Elfland was. "Go on a little further," said the
+hen-wife, "till you come to a round green hill, surrounded with
+terrace-rings, from the bottom to the top; go round it three times,
+'widershins,' and each time say:
+
+    "'Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in,'
+
+and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." And Childe
+Rowland was just going on, when he remembered what he had to do; so he
+out with the good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went the
+hen-wife's head.
+
+Then he went on, and on, and on, till he came to the round green hill
+with the terrace-rings from top to bottom, and he went round it three
+times, "widershins," saying each time:
+
+    "Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in."
+
+And the third time the door did open, and he went in, and it closed with
+a click, and Childe Rowland was left in the dark.
+
+It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were
+neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the
+twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof. There were rough
+arches made of a transparent rock, incrusted with sheepsilver and rock
+spar, and other bright stones. But though it was rock, the air was quite
+warm, as it always is in Elfland. So he went through this passage till
+at last he came to two wide and high folding-doors which stood ajar. And
+when he opened them, there he saw a most wonderful and glorious sight. A
+large and spacious hall, so large that it seemed to be as long, and as
+broad, as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by fine pillars,
+so large and lofty, that the pillars of a cathedral were as nothing to
+them. They were all of gold and silver, with fretted work, and between
+them and around them wreaths of flowers, composed of what do you think?
+Why, of diamonds and emeralds, and all manner of precious stones. And
+the very key-stones of the arches had for ornaments clusters of diamonds
+and rubies, and pearls, and other precious stones. And all these arches
+met in the middle of the roof, and just there, hung by a gold chain, an
+immense lamp made out of one big pearl hollowed out and quite
+transparent. And in the middle of this was a big, huge carbuncle, which
+kept spinning round and round, and this was what gave light by its rays
+to the whole hall, which seemed as if the setting sun was shining on it.
+
+The hall was furnished in a manner equally grand, and at one end of it
+was a glorious couch of velvet, silk and gold, and there sat Burd Ellen,
+combing her golden hair with a silver comb. And when she saw Childe
+Rowland she stood up and said:
+
+    "God pity ye, poor luckless fool,
+      What have ye here to do?
+
+    "Hear ye this, my youngest brother,
+      Why didn't ye bide at home?
+    Had you a hundred thousand lives
+      Ye couldn't spare any a one.
+
+    "But sit ye down; but woe, O, woe,
+      That ever ye were born,
+    For come the King of Elfland in,
+      Your fortune is forlorn."
+
+Then they sat down together, and Childe Rowland told her all that he had
+done, and she told him how their two brothers had reached the Dark
+Tower, but had been enchanted by the King of Elfland, and lay there
+entombed as if dead. And then after they had talked a little longer
+Childe Rowland began to feel hungry from his long travels, and told his
+sister Burd Ellen how hungry he was and asked for some food, forgetting
+all about the Warlock Merlin's warning.
+
+Burd Ellen looked at Childe Rowland sadly, and shook her head, but she
+was under a spell, and could not warn him. So she rose up, and went out,
+and soon brought back a golden basin full of bread and milk. Childe
+Rowland was just going to raise it to his lips, when he looked at his
+sister and remembered why he had come all that way. So he dashed the
+bowl to the ground, and said: "Not a sup will I swallow, nor a bit will
+I bite, till Burd Ellen is set free."
+
+Just at that moment they heard the noise of some one approaching, and a
+loud voice was heard saying:
+
+    "Fee, fi, fo, fum,
+    I smell the blood of a Christian man,
+    Be he dead, be he living, with my brand,
+    I'll dash his brains from his brain-pan."
+
+And then the folding-doors of the hall were burst open, and the King of
+Elfland rushed in.
+
+"Strike, then, Bogle, if thou darest," shouted out Childe Rowland, and
+rushed to meet him with his good brand that never yet did fail. They
+fought, and they fought, and they fought, till Childe Rowland beat the
+King of Elfland down on to his knees, and caused him to yield and beg
+for mercy. "I grant thee mercy," said Childe Rowland; "release my sister
+from thy spells and raise my brothers to life, and let us all go free,
+and thou shalt be spared." "I agree," said the Elfin King, and rising up
+he went to a chest from which he took a phial filled with a blood-red
+liquor. With this he anointed the ears, eyelids, nostrils, lips, and
+finger-tips of the two brothers, and they sprang at once into life, and
+declared that their souls had been away, but had now returned. The Elfin
+King then said some words to Burd Ellen, and she was disenchanted, and
+they all four passed out of the hall, through the long passage, and
+turned their back on the Dark Tower, never to return again. So they
+reached home, and the good queen their mother and Burd Ellen never went
+round a church "widershins"[30] again.
+
+[Illustration: TAM O' SHANTER]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 29: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons.]
+
+[Footnote 30: To go from _left_ to right, instead of following the Sun's
+course from _right_ to left.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[31]
+
+
+IT was market-day in the town of Ayr in Scotland. The farmers had come
+into town from all the country round about, to sell or exchange their
+farm produce, and buy what they needed to take home.
+
+Amongst these farmers was a man by the name of Tam o' Shanter; a good
+natured, happy-go-lucky sort of person, but, I am sorry to say, somewhat
+of a drunkard.
+
+Now Tam's wife, whose name was Kate, was a grievous scold; always
+nagging and faultfinding, and I fear making it far easier for Tam to do
+wrong than if she had treated him more kindly. However that may be, Tam
+was happier away from home; and this day had escaped his wife's scolding
+tongue, mounted his good gray mare Meg, and galloped off as fast as he
+could go to Market.
+
+Tam, who was bent upon having a spree, found his good friend, the
+shoemaker Johnny, and off they went to their favorite ale house; where
+they stayed telling stories and singing and drinking, till late at
+night.
+
+At last the time came to go home and Tam who had forgotten the long
+miles between him and the farm set forth, but a terrible storm had
+risen; the wind blew, the rain fell in torrents and the thunder roared
+long and loud.
+
+It was a fearful night, black as pitch except for the blinding flashes
+of lightning; but Tam was well mounted on his good gray mare Maggie, and
+splashed along through the wind and mire, holding on to his good blue
+bonnet, and singing aloud an old Scotch sonnet; while looking about him
+with prudent care lest the bogies catch him unawares.
+
+At last he drew near to the old ruined church of Alloway. For many, many
+years this old church had been roofless, but the walls were standing and
+it still retained the bell.
+
+For many years it was said that the ghosts and witches nightly held
+their revels there, and sometimes rang the old bell. As Tam was crossing
+the ford of the stream called the Doon, which flowed nearby, he looked
+up at the old church on the hillside above him, and behold! it was all
+ablaze with lights, and sounds of mirth and dancing reached his ears.
+
+Now Tam had been made fearless by old John Barleycorn, and he made good
+Maggie take him close to the church so that he could look inside, and
+there he saw the weirdest sight--
+
+Witches and ghosts in a mad dance, and the music was furnished by the
+Devil himself in the shape of a beast, who played upon the bagpipes, and
+made them scream so loud that the very rafters rang with the sound.
+
+It was an awful sight; and as Tam looked in, amazed and curious, the fun
+and mirth grew fast and furious.
+
+The Piper loud and louder blew, and the dancers quick and quicker flew.
+
+One of the witches resembled a handsome girl that Tam had known called
+Nannie; Tam sat as one bewitched watching her as she danced, and at last
+losing his wits altogether, called out: "Weel done, Cutty-Sark!"--and in
+an instant all was dark!
+
+He had scarcely time to turn Maggie round, when all the legion of
+witches and spirits were about him like a swarm of angry bees. As a
+crowd runs, when the cry "Catch the thief" is heard, so runs Maggie; and
+the witches follow with many an awful screech and halloo! Hurry, Meg!
+Do thy utmost! Win the keystone of the bridge, for a running stream they
+_dare_ not cross! _Then_ you can toss your tail at them! But before good
+Meg could reach the keystone of the bridge she had no tail to toss. For
+Nannie far before the rest, hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+and flew at Tam with fury. But she little knew good Maggie's
+mettle. With one spring, she brought off her master safe, but left
+behind her own gray tail!
+
+The witch had caught it and left poor Maggie with only a stump.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 31: Prose Version, by Anna Cogswell Tyler.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[32]
+
+    "Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."--Gawin Douglas.
+
+    When chapman billies leave the street,
+    And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
+    As market-days are wearing late,
+    An' folk begin to tak' the gate;
+    While we sit bousing at the nappy,
+    An' gettin' fou and unco happy,
+    We think na on the lang Scots miles,
+    The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
+    That lie between us and our hame,
+    Where sits our sulky sullen dame,
+    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
+    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
+
+    This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
+    As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
+    (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
+    For honest men and bonny lasses.)
+    O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
+    As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advise!
+    She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
+    A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
+    That frae November till October,
+    Ae market-day thou wasna sober;
+    That ilka melder, wi' the miller,
+    Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
+    That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,
+    The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;
+    That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
+    Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday.
+    She prophesy'd, that late or soon,
+    Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;
+    Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
+    By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
+
+    Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
+    To think how mony counsels sweet,
+    How mony lengthen'd sage advices,
+    The husband frae the wife despises!
+    But to our tale:--Ae market night,
+    Tam had got planted unco right;
+    Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,
+    Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;
+    And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
+    His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
+    Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
+    They had been fou' for weeks thegither!
+    The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;
+    And ay the ale was growing better:
+    The storm without might rair and rustle-- Tam
+    did na mind the storm a whistle.
+
+    Care, made to see a man sae happy,
+    E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy!
+    As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
+    The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
+    Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
+    O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
+
+    But pleasures are like poppies spread,
+    You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+    Or like the snow falls in the river,
+    A moment white--then melts for ever;
+    Or like the borealis race,
+    That flit ere you can point their place;
+    Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+    Evanishing amid the storm.
+    Nae man can tether time or tide;
+    The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
+    That hour, o' night's black arch the kay-stane,
+    That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
+    And sic a night he taks the road in
+    As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
+    The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
+    The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;
+    The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
+    Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
+    That night, a child might understand,
+    The De'il had business on his hand.
+
+    Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
+    A better never lifted leg,
+    Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
+    Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
+    Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;
+    Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;
+    Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,
+    Les bogles catch him unawares;
+    Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
+    Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.
+
+    By this time he was cross the foord,
+    Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
+    And past the birks and meikle stane,
+    Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
+    And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
+    Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
+    And near the thorn, aboon the well,
+    Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.
+    Before him Doon pours all his floods;
+    The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;
+    The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
+    Near and more near the thunders roll;
+    When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
+    Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;
+    Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;
+    And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
+
+    Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!
+    What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
+    Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
+    Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil!
+    The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noodle,
+    Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle.
+    But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
+    'Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
+    She ventur'd forward on the light;
+    And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
+    Warlocks and witches in a dance;
+    Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
+    But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
+    Put life and mettle in their heels:
+    A winnock-bunker in the east,
+    There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
+    A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
+    To gie them music was his charge;
+    He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
+    Till roof and rafters a' did dirl-- As
+    Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
+    The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:
+    The piper loud and louder blew;
+    The dancers quick and quicker flew;
+    They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
+    'Til ilka carlin swat and reekit,
+    And coost her duddies to the wark,
+    And linket at it in her sark!
+
+    But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
+    There was a winsome wench and walie,
+    That night enlisted in the core,
+    (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;
+    For mony a beast to dead she shot,
+    And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,
+    And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
+    And kept the country-side in fear.)
+    Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
+    That, while a lassie, she had worn,
+    In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
+    It was her best, and she was vauntie.
+    Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie,
+    That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
+    Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
+    Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!
+
+    But here my muse her wing maun cour;
+    Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;
+    To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
+    (A soup'e jade she was and strang),
+    And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,
+    And thought his very een enrich'd;
+    Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
+    And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:
+    'Til first ae caper, syne anither,
+    Tam tint his reason a' thegither,
+    And roars out, "Well done, Cutty-sark!"
+    And in an instant all was dark:
+    And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
+    When out the hellish legion sallied.
+
+    As bees bizz out wi' angry gyke,
+    When plundering herds assail their byke;
+    As open pussie's mortal foes,
+    When, pop! she starts before their nose;
+    As eager runs the market-crowd,
+    When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
+    So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
+    Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.
+
+    Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!
+    In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!
+    In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
+    Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
+    Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
+    And win the key-stane of the brig;
+    There at them thou thy tail may toss,
+    A running stream they darena cross!
+    But ere the key-stane she could make,
+    The fient a tail she had to shake!
+    For Nannie, far before the rest,
+    Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+    And flew at Tammie wi' furious ettle;
+    But little wist she Maggie's mettle-- Ae
+    spring brought off her master hale,
+    But left behind her ain gray tail:
+    The carlin claught her by the rump,
+    And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
+
+    Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
+    Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
+    Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
+    Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
+    Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear-- Remember
+    Tam o' Shanter's mare.
+
+    ROBERT BURNS.
+
+[Illustration: THE BOGGART]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 32: It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits,
+have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the
+next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the
+benighted traveler, that when he falls in with _bogles,_ whatever danger
+there may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning
+back.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BOGGART[33]
+
+
+IN an old farm-house in Yorkshire, where lived an honest farmer named
+George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He caused a good
+deal of trouble, and he kept tormenting the children, day and night, in
+various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away,
+or their porringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible hand;
+for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains
+of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight
+would press on and nearly suffocate them. Their mother had often, on
+hearing their cries, to fly to their aid.
+
+There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the
+kitchen-stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the
+deal-boards of which it was made, there remained a round hole. Into
+this, one day, the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe-horn with which
+he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and
+struck the boy on the head. Of course it was the Boggart did this, and
+it soon became their sport, which they called _larking with the
+Boggart,_ to put the shoe-horn into the hole and have it shot back at
+them. But the gamesome Boggart at length proved such a torment that the
+farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all
+to himself. This settled, the flitting day came, and the farmer and his
+family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named
+John Marshall came up.
+
+"Well, Georgey," said he, "and so you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?"
+
+"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced to it; for that bad Boggart torments
+us so, we can neither rest night nor day for't. It seems to have such a
+malice against t'poor bairns, it almost kills my poor dame here at
+thoughts on't, and so, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike."
+
+He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn
+cried out. _"Aye, aye, Georgey, we're flittin ye see!"_
+
+"Ods, alive!" cried the farmer, "if I'd known thou would flit too, I'd
+not have stirred a peg!"
+
+And with that, he turned about to his wife, and told her they might as
+well stay in the old house, as be bothered by the Boggart in a new one.
+So stay they did.
+
+THE END
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 33: From _Fairy-Gold_, a book of old English Fairy Tales.
+Chosen by Ernest Rhys.]
+
+
+
+
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Anna Cogswell Tyler</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Maud Petersham and Miska Petersham</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 11, 2010 [eBook #34618]<br />
+[Most recently updated: February 13, 2022]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: The Online Distributed Proofreaders</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FOUR UNUSUAL STORIES ***</div>
+
+    <h1>TWENTY-FOUR<br />
+    UNUSUAL STORIES</h1>
+
+    <h3>FOR BOYS AND GIRLS</h3>
+
+
+    <h3>ARRANGED AND RETOLD</h3>
+
+    <h4>BY</h4>
+
+    <h2>ANNA COGSWELL TYLER</h2>
+
+    <p class="center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br />
+
+    MAUD AND MISKA PETERSHAM<br /><br />
+
+    NEW YORK<br />
+
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY<br />
+
+    1921<br />
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br />
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.<br /><br />
+
+
+    PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.<br />
+
+    THE QUINN &amp; BODEN COMPANY<br />
+
+    RAHWAY. N. J.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h4>
+    TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO<br />
+    HAVE ENJOYED THESE TALES<br />
+
+    AND HAVE BEEN THE INSPIRATION<br />
+    OF THE STORY-TELLER,<br />
+    THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
+</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a>FOREWORD</h2>
+
+
+<div class="centerbox">
+<p>It has been suggested that the boys and girls who have so often listened
+to these stories in the clubs and story-hours of the New York Public
+Library, might like to have a few of their favorites in one book; that
+other boys and girls might be interested in reading them; and that the
+story-teller, in search of stories for special occasions, might find
+this little volume useful.</p>
+
+<p class="author">
+<span class="smcap">Anna Cogswell Tyler.</span><br />
+1920
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Jean de Bosschere</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Hans Christian Andersen</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_17'>17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Howard Pyle</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Rev. Jay T. Stocking</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">KATCHA AND THE DEVIL</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Parker Fillmore</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Cornelia Meigs</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Aldis Dunbar</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Aunt Naomi</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Joseph Jacobs</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">WINGS</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Fedor Sologub</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th align="center">CHRISTMAS STORIES</th></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_123'>123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Frances Browne</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE EMPEROR'S VISION</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Selma Lagerlof</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Ruth Sawyer Durand</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th align="center">GREEK LEGENDS</th></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE CURSE OF ECHO</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_183'>183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Elsie Finnimore Buckley</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Andrew Lang</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Julia Dragoumis</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE FIRST CORN</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_223'>223</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>George Bird Grinnell</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">WAUKEWA'S EAGLE</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_233'>233</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>James Buckham</i></td></tr>
+<tr><th align="center">HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES</th></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>Arthur Quiller-Couch</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_277'>277</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Enys Tregarthen</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">MY GRANDFATHER HENDRY WATTY</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><i>Arthur Quiller-Couch</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">CHILDE ROWLAND</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>Joseph Jacobs</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">TAM O' SHANTER</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_309'>309</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>Robert Burns</i> (Prose Version by Anna Cogswell Tyler)</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">THE BOGGART</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_325'>325</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"> <i>Ernest Rhys</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;">
+<img src="images/24s-001.jpg" width="375" height="450" alt="THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_CONVENT_FREE_FROM_CARE1" id="THE_CONVENT_FREE_FROM_CARE1"></a>THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>ONCE when the Emperor Charles V was traveling in the country, he saw a
+convent, and in passing by a little door he read this strange
+inscription:</p>
+
+<p>"Here you live without a care."</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor was very surprised and could scarcely believe his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me an impossibility," he thought; "does some one really
+exist on earth who is free from care? As Emperor I am overwhelmed with
+troubles, while here in this convent, which is a little kingdom in
+itself, one would have nothing to worry about. I cannot believe it."</p>
+
+<p>Immediately on setting foot in the village inn, the Emperor sent the
+hostess to fetch the Abbot of this singular convent.</p>
+
+<p>You can imagine what a state of mind the latter was in when he heard he
+was summoned to the Emperor's presence.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done to displease him?" he asked himself. On the way he
+examined his conscience over and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> over again, and he could think of no
+fault of which he was guilty. "I am in troubled waters; I must steer my
+way through," he said.</p>
+
+<p>When he was in the Emperor's presence, the latter expressed his
+astonishment of what he had read.</p>
+
+<p>The Abbot now knew why he had been summoned, and smiled. "Sir," said he,
+"does that astonish you? However, it is very simple; we eat, we drink,
+we sleep, and worry over nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Reverend Abbot, that state of things must come to an end," said
+the Emperor, "and in order that you may have your share of trouble, I
+command you to bring me to-morrow the answers to the three following
+questions:</p>
+
+<p>"First, What is the depth of the sea?</p>
+
+<p>"Secondly, How many cows' tails would it take to measure the distance
+between the earth and the sun?</p>
+
+<p>"Thirdly, What am I thinking about?</p>
+
+<p>"Try to please me or I shall exact a penalty from you."</p>
+
+<p>On hearing these words, the Abbot returned to his convent with a heavy
+heart. From that moment he knew no peace. He cudgeled his brains as to
+what answer he could make to the Emperor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When the little bell of the abbey rang, summoning the monks to prayer in
+the chapel, the Abbot continued to pace his garden. He was so deep in
+thought that he was quite oblivious of what was taking place around him.
+Even if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he would not have noticed
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"What a horrible thing," he thought. "Is it possible that such a
+misfortune has overtaken me? I cannot possibly answer. Who can save the
+situation? Perhaps our shepherd could; he has a very lively imagination;
+but talk of the devil&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>At that identical moment the shepherd appeared, leading his flock. He
+was very surprised to see the Abbot, who was always without a care,
+meditating in solitude.</p>
+
+<p>What could have happened?</p>
+
+<p>Without more ado he went to him, and asked him what was troubling him so
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I deserve to be pitied," said the Abbot, and he told him what had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you tormenting yourself over a little thing like that?" the
+shepherd laughingly replied. "Leave it to me, and all will be well.
+To-morrow I will come here and dress myself in your robe, and I will
+turn the tables on him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At first the Abbot demurred, but in the end he yielded, and the matter
+was settled.</p>
+
+<p>The next day the shepherd went boldly to find the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Reverend Abbot," the Emperor said with serenity, "have you found
+out the answers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly, sire."</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, I am listening."</p>
+
+<p>"Sire, the sea is as deep as a stone's throw.</p>
+
+<p>"To measure the distance between the earth and the sun, you only need
+one cow's tail, if it is long enough.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wish to know, sire, what you are thinking? Well, at this moment,
+you think, sire, that the Abbot of the convent is in your presence, and
+it is only his shepherd."</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor laughed so heartily that if he has not stopped laughing he
+is laughing still.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/24s-007.jpg" width="368" height="450" alt="&quot;WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!&quot;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="WHAT_THE_GOOD-MAN_DOES_IS_SURE_TO_BE_RIGHT2" id="WHAT_THE_GOOD-MAN_DOES_IS_SURE_TO_BE_RIGHT2"></a>"WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>I AM going to tell you a story that was told to me when I was a little
+one, and which I like better and better the oftener I think of it. For
+it is with stories as with some men and women, the older they grow, the
+pleasanter they grow, and that is delightful!</p>
+
+<p>Of course you have been into the country? Well, then, you must have seen
+a regularly poor old cottage. Moss and weeds spring up amid the thatch
+of the roof, a stork's nest decorates the chimney (the stork can never
+be dispensed with), the walls are aslant, the windows low (in fact, only
+one of them can be shut), the baking-oven projects forward, and an
+elder-bush leans over the gate, where you will see a tiny pond with a
+duck and ducklings in it, close under a knotted old willow-tree. Yes,
+and then there is a watch-dog that barks at every passer-by.</p>
+
+<p>Just such a poor little cottage as this was the one in my story, and in
+it dwelt a husband and wife. Few as their possessions were, one of them
+they could do without, and that was a horse, that used to graze in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+ditch beside the highroad. The good-man rode on it to town, he lent it
+to his neighbors, and received slight services from them in return, but
+still it would be more profitable to sell the horse, or else exchange it
+for something they could make of more frequent use. But which should
+they do? sell, or exchange?</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you will find out what is best, good-man," said the wife. "Isn't
+this market-day? Come, ride off to the town&mdash;get money, or what you can
+for the horse&mdash;whatever you do is sure to be right. Make haste for the
+market!"</p>
+
+<p>So she tied on his neckerchief&mdash;for that was a matter she understood
+better than he&mdash;she tied it with a double knot, and made him look quite
+spruce; she dusted his hat with the palm of her hand; and she kissed him
+and sent him off, riding the horse that was to be either sold or
+bartered. Of course, he would know what to do.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was hot, and not a cloud in the sky. The road was dusty, and
+such a crowd of folk passed on their way to market. Some in wagons, some
+on horseback, some on their own legs. A fierce sun and no shade all the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>A man came driving a cow&mdash;as pretty a cow as could be. "That creature
+must give beautiful milk,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> thought the peasant; "it would not be a bad
+bargain if I got that. I say, you fellow with the cow!" he began aloud:
+"let's have some talk together. Look you, a horse, I believe, costs more
+than a cow, but it is all the same to me, as I have more use for a
+cow&mdash;shall we make an exchange?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure!" was the answer, and the bargain was made.</p>
+
+<p>The good-man might just as well now turn back homeward&mdash;he had finished
+his business. But he had made up his mind to go to market, so to market
+he must go, if only to look on, so, with his cow, he continued on his
+way. He trudged fast, so did the cow, and soon they overtook a man who
+was leading a sheep&mdash;a sheep in good condition, well clothed with wool.</p>
+
+<p>"I should very much like to have that!" said the peasant. "It would find
+pasture enough by our road-side, and in winter we might take it into our
+own room. And really it would be more reasonable for us to be keeping a
+sheep than a cow. Shall we exchange?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the man who owned the sheep was quite willing; so the exchange was
+made, and the good-man now went on with his sheep. Presently there
+passed him a man with a big goose under his arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, you have got a heavy fellow there!" quoth the peasant. "Feathers
+and fat in plenty! How nicely we could tie her up near our little pond,
+and it would be something for the good-wife to gather up the scraps for.
+She has often said: 'If we had but a goose!' Now she can have one&mdash;and
+she shall, too! Will you exchange? I will give you my sheep for your
+goose, and say 'thank you' besides."</p>
+
+<p>The other had no objection, so the peasant had his will and his goose.
+He was now close to the town; he was wearied with the heat and the
+crowd, folk and cattle pushing past him, thronging on the road, in the
+ditch, and close up to the turnpike-man's cabbage-garden, where his one
+hen was tied up, lest in her fright she should lose her way and be
+carried off. It was a short-backed hen: she winked with one eye, crying,
+"Cluck, cluck!" What she was thinking of I can't say, but what the
+peasant thought on seeing her, was this: "That is the prettiest hen I
+have ever seen&mdash;much prettier than any of our parson's chickens. I
+should very much like to have her. A hen can always pick up a grain here
+and there&mdash;can provide for herself. I almost think it would be a good
+plan to take her instead of the goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked.
+"Exchange?" repeated the owner; "not a bad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> idea!" So it was done; the
+turnpike-man got the goose, the peasant the hen.</p>
+
+<p>He had transacted a deal of business since first starting on his way to
+the town; hot was he, and wearied too; he must have a dram and a bit of
+bread. He was on the point of entering an inn, when the innkeeper met
+him in the doorway swinging a sack chock-full of something.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you there?" asked the peasant.</p>
+
+<p>"Mellow apples," was the answer, "a whole sackful for swine."</p>
+
+<p>"What a quantity! wouldn't my wife like to see so many! Why, the last
+year we had only one single apple on the whole tree at home. Ah! I wish
+my wife could see them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what will you give me for them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Give for them? why, I will give you my hen." So he gave the hen, took
+the apples, and entered the inn, and going straight up to the bar, set
+his sack upright against the stove without considering that there was a
+fire lighted inside. A good many strangers were present, among them two
+Englishmen, both with their pockets full of gold, and fond of laying
+wagers, as Englishmen in stories are wont to be.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there came a sound from the stove, "Suss&mdash;suss&mdash;suss!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> the
+apples were roasting. "What is that?" folk asked, and soon heard the
+whole history of the horse that had been exchanged, first for a cow, and
+lastly for a sack of rotten apples.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! won't you get a good sound cuff from your wife, when you go
+home?" said one of the Englishmen. "Something heavy enough to fell an
+ox, I warn you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall get kisses, not cuffs," replied the peasant. "My wife will say,
+'Whatever the good-man does is right.'"</p>
+
+<p>"A wager!" cried the Englishmen, "for a hundred pounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Say rather a bushelful," quoth the peasant, "and I can only lay my
+bushel of apples with myself and the good-wife, but that will be more
+than full measure, I trow."</p>
+
+<p>"Done!" cried they. And the innkeeper's cart was brought out forthwith,
+the Englishmen got into it, the peasant got into it, the rotten apples
+got into it, and away they sped to the peasant's cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Same to you, good-man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have exchanged the horse, not sold it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said the wife, taking his hand, and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> her eagerness to
+listen noticing neither the sack nor the strangers.</p>
+
+<p>"I exchanged the horse for a cow."</p>
+
+<p>"O! how delightful! now we can have milk, butter, and cheese, on our
+table. What a capital idea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I exchanged the cow for a sheep."</p>
+
+<p>"Better and better!" cried the wife. "You are always so thoughtful; we
+have only just grass enough for a sheep. But now we shall have ewe's
+milk, and ewe's cheese, and woolen stockings, nay, woolen jackets too;
+and a cow would not give us that; she loses all her hairs. But you are
+always such a clever fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"But the ewe I exchanged again for a goose."</p>
+
+<p>"What! shall we really keep Michaelmas this year, good-man? You are
+always thinking of what will please me, and that was a beautiful
+thought. The goose can be tethered to the willow-tree and grow fat for
+Michaelmas Day."</p>
+
+<p>"But I gave the goose away for a hen," said the peasant.</p>
+
+<p>"A hen? well, that was a good exchange," said his wife. "A hen will lay
+eggs, sit upon them, and we shall have chickens. Fancy! a hen-yard! that
+is just the thing I have always wished for most."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I exchanged the hen for a sack of mellow apples."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must give thee a kiss," cried the wife. "Thanks, my own husband.
+And now I have something to tell. When you were gone I thought how I
+could get a right good dinner ready for you: omelets with parsley. Now I
+had the eggs, but not the parsley. So I went over to the schoolmaster's;
+they have parsley, I know, but the woman is so crabbed, she wanted
+something for it. Now what could I give her? nothing grows in our
+garden, not even a rotten apple, not even that had I for her; but now I
+can give her ten, nay, a whole sackful. That is famous, good-man!" and
+she kissed him again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well done!" cried the Englishmen. "Always down hill, and always happy!
+Such a sight is worth the money!" And so quite contentedly they paid the
+bushelful of gold pieces to the peasant, who had got kisses, not cuffs,
+by his bargains.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly virtue is her own reward, when the wife is sure that her
+husband is the wisest man in the world, and that whatever he does is
+right. So now you have heard this old story that was once told to me,
+and I hope have learnt the moral.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;">
+<img src="images/24s-017.jpg" width="366" height="450" alt="WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="WHERE_TO_LAY_THE_BLAME3" id="WHERE_TO_LAY_THE_BLAME3"></a>WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>Many and many a man has come to trouble&mdash;so he will say&mdash;by
+following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of whom
+I shall tell you.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>THERE was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day long and
+had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat by the fire,
+rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for supper that his
+wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as sharp as vinegar, and
+his temper hot enough to fry fat.</p>
+
+<p>While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make himself
+comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the door. The good
+woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad all in red from head
+to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as white as winter snow.</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman's wife stood gasping and staring at the strange figure,
+but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. "Bring your nets,
+fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There is something that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> I want
+you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you for your fishing
+as never fisherman was paid before."</p>
+
+<p>"Not I," said the fisherman; "I go out no more this night. I have been
+fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have caught
+nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave a good
+supper and a warm fire at your bidding." But the fisherman's wife had
+listened to what the old man had said about paying for the job, and she
+was of a different mind from her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man
+promises to pay you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell
+you, and my advice to you is that you go."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would
+not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, "My
+advice to you is that you go."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The
+wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her
+temper; she only said to everything that he said, "My advice to you is
+that you go."</p>
+
+<p>At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
+spitting his words at her; "if you drive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> me out into the night, I
+suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words that so many men
+say: "Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife's advice."</p>
+
+<p>Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and
+the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along
+like black spiders behind them.</p>
+
+<p>Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through
+the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where
+nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven
+years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as
+this."</p>
+
+<p>But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle
+with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then
+out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a
+little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents
+and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his
+pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he
+took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a dense
+smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far and near,
+till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then the old man
+began to utter strange spells and words.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and
+nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth
+rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear
+till his teeth chattered in his head.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as still as
+death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever. "Now," said
+the old magician&mdash;for such he was&mdash;"now we are about to take a journey
+such as no one ever traveled before. Heed well what I tell you. Speak
+not a single word, for if you do, misfortune will be sure to happen."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Not even 'boo' to a goose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say," said
+the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as well."
+Thereupon he took from his pocket<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> a handkerchief, and made ready to tie
+it about the fisherman's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Not even so much as a single feather?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."</p>
+
+<p>But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes, and then
+he was as blind as a bat.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and hold
+fast."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
+something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk! whizz!
+off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was left for him
+to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to hold fast. On they
+went, and on they went, until, after a great while, whatever it was that
+was carrying him lit upon the ground, and there the fisherman found
+himself standing, for that which had brought him had gone.</p>
+
+<p>The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
+fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
+nothing to be seen but water<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> upon one side and rocks and naked sand
+upon the other.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old magician;
+"for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them, and then
+cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so much as a
+herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he had caught
+something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and pulled, until
+by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should it be but a great
+chest of wood, blackened by sea-water, and covered with shells and green
+moss.</p>
+
+<p>That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for. From his
+pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he fitted into a
+key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back the lid; the fisherman
+looked within, and there was the prettiest little palace that man's eye
+ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as
+snow. The old magician lifted the little palace out of the box and set
+it upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Then, lo and behold! a marvelous thing happened; for the palace
+instantly began to grow for all the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> like a soap-bubble, until it
+stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the windows
+bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the sound of music
+and voices and laughter coming from within.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange thing when
+another happened. The old magician took off his clothes and his
+face&mdash;yes, his face&mdash;for all the world as though it had been a mask, and
+there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever the light looked
+on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with wonder, he led the way
+up the great flight of marble steps to the palace door. As he came the
+door swung open with a blaze of light, and there stood hundreds of
+noblemen, all clad in silks and satins and velvets, who, when they saw
+the magician, bowed low before him, as though he had been a king.
+Leading the way, they brought the two through halls and chambers and
+room after room, each more magnificent than the other, until they came
+to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the others.</p>
+
+<p>At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady more
+lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as diamonds, her
+cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold. She came half-way
+down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> the steps of the throne to welcome the magician, and when the two
+met they kissed one another before all those who were looking on. Then
+she brought him to the throne and seated him beside her, and there they
+talked for a long time very earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him like an
+owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they will give a body a
+bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the truth, the good supper he had
+come away from at home had left a sharp hunger gnawing at his insides,
+and he longed for something good and warm to fill the empty place. But
+time passed, and not so much as a crust of bread was brought to stay his
+stomach.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon the
+throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the hand, and,
+turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud voice, "Behold him
+who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of jewels! Unto him do I give
+it, and with it all power of powers!" Thereon she opened a golden casket
+that stood beside her, and brought thence a little crystal ball, about
+as big as a pigeon's egg, in which was something that glistened like a
+spark of fire. The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his
+bosom; but what it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
+know I shall not tell you.</p>
+
+<p>Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
+fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men came
+carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was full of bags
+of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the beautiful lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Have what?" said the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."</p>
+
+<p>"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the chief
+treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a cataract
+of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen so much wealth in
+all his life before, and he stood like a man turned to stone.</p>
+
+<p>"Is all this mine?" said the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>"It is," said the beautiful lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to the
+fisherman, left the throne room the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> same way that they had come. The
+noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and back they
+went through the other apartments, until at last they came to the door.
+Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened!</p>
+
+<p>If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble it
+vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to be seen
+but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky overhead. The fisherman
+shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled, and was as heavy as
+lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich for life. "But anyhow,"
+said he, "they might have given a body a bite to eat."</p>
+
+<p>The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making himself
+as hoary and as old as before. He took out flint and steel, and his
+sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made a great fire and
+smoke just as he had done before. Then again he tied his handkerchief
+over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said he, "what I told you when we
+started upon our journey. Keep your mouth tight shut, for if you utter
+so much as a single word you are a lost man. Now throw your leg over
+what you feel and hold fast."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> of gold in the other
+hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he had felt
+before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone through the air
+like a sky-rocket.</p>
+
+<p>Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time, so he
+began to think he would like to see what sort of a creature it was upon
+which he was riding thus through the sky. So he contrived, in spite of
+his net and cap, to push up the handkerchief from over one eye. Out he
+peeped, and then he saw what the strange steed was. He was riding upon a
+he-goat as black as night, and in front of him was the magician riding
+upon just such another, his great red robe fluttering out in the
+moonlight like huge red wings.</p>
+
+<p>"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is a
+billy-goat!"</p>
+
+<p>Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down fell the
+fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over and around and
+around like a frog. He held tightly to his net, but away flew his fur
+cap, the golden money falling in a shower like sparks of yellow light.
+Down he fell and down he fell, until his head spun like a top.</p>
+
+<p>By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft rushes.
+Into the very middle of it he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> tumbled, and right through the
+thatch&mdash;bump!&mdash;into the room below.</p>
+
+<p>The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a noise
+as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to wake the dead.
+Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and winking with sleep, and
+with her brains as addled as a duck's egg in a thunderstorm.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and rubbed his
+shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's advice!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;">
+<img src="images/24s-031.jpg" width="371" height="450" alt="THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_WINDS_THE_BIRDS_AND_THE_TELEGRAPH_WIRES4" id="THE_WINDS_THE_BIRDS_AND_THE_TELEGRAPH_WIRES4"></a>THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>LONG, long ago, a hundred times as long as any one can remember, the
+Great Earth King became so very, very busy about a great many things
+that there were several things that he could not do. So he sat himself
+down and rested his great head upon his hand, and thought, and thought,
+and thought until he decided that he must have some assistance. He would
+advertise for some messengers! So he seized a great brush, as big as a
+church steeple, dipped it into the red and golden sunset light, and
+wrote in big letters high on the sky, that every one far and near could
+read:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox">
+<p>WANTED! MESSENGERS! FLEETER THAN HORSES, SWIFTER THAN MEN, TO CARRY
+MY MESSAGES, A MILLION TIMES TEN.</p></div>
+
+<p>and he signed it simply, "The Earth King." Then he went into his rainbow
+house and laid himself down to sleep on his rainbow bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely fallen asleep when there came a <i>rustle, rustle,
+rustle</i> at the rainbow window,
+and a <i>rattle, rattle, rattle</i> at the rainbow door. He sprang quickly
+from his great bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Who be ye?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We be messengers," came the reply, "come to serve the King."</p>
+
+<p>Then the King opened the door. There before him stood four of the
+strangest creatures that he had ever seen. They were so light that they
+could stand on nothing; they had great wide wings; they had pale faces
+and gleaming eyes; and they had light garments that floated and flapped
+and fluttered in the breeze.</p>
+
+<p>"What are your names?" asked the King.</p>
+
+<p>"We are the Winds," answered the mightiest of the four, "East Wind, West
+Wind, South Wind, North Wind," pointing to each in turn, himself last.
+"We have come&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>To carry your messages, a million times ten.</i>"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Then the King spoke to them in deep and solemn tone: "The task is a
+great one. The King's business is grave and important. My messengers
+must be swift and faithful. Are ye able?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then the four winds piously crossed their breasts with their wings and
+whispered, "Try us and see, try us and see, try us and see."</p>
+
+<p>So the King tried them.</p>
+
+<p>"Down by the sea," said the King, "far over the mountains, many hours
+away, there lives a fisher folk that I love. Every day the men of the
+village go forth in their little boats to fish, and every evening they
+come home with their catch. But of late thick and heavy clouds have hung
+about them. They have not dared go forth lest they should not reach home
+again, and their families begin to be in want. Go to them to-day. Drive
+away the fog and clouds that the people may be happy again. Quick!
+away!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the four winds lifted their swift, beautiful wings and were gone.
+Faster and faster they flew till none could tell how fast they flew.
+Over the meadows they went and over the mountains. Each tried to
+outwing the others until it became a fierce and careless game. So
+blind and careless were they in their sport that they did not notice how
+they whirled the sand, and broke the trees, and tossed the water.
+Swiftly through the fishing village they tore, hurling its poor houses
+to the ground and <i>crashing, dashing, slashing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> smashing</i> the waves
+upon the fallen wrecks and the frightened and suffering folk.</p>
+
+<p>Not until they were weary with their furious sport did they remember the
+errand on which the King had sent them. They retraced their steps as
+quickly as they could, but alas! to their shame and grief, the village
+lay in ruins and the people wept for their loss.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Earth King was very sad and angry. He brought the shameful
+winds before his court. "False and faithless winds," he said, in stern
+and awful voice, "ye did not do my errand; ye were traitors to your
+trust; great shall be your punishment. Nevermore shall ye be my
+messengers, evermore shall ye be my slaves. Away from my sight!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the faithless winds departed from before the face of the King, and
+in shame and sorrow went moaning among the caves and the rocks by the
+seaside, and sighing among the lonely pine trees in the wilderness, and
+even to this day you may hear the echoes of their moans and sighs.</p>
+
+<p>The Earth King was sorrowful, but not discouraged. Again he seized the
+great paint brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped it into the red
+and golden sunset light, and wrote in big letters high on the sky that
+every one far and near could read:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+WANTED! MESSENGERS!<br />
+FLEETER THAN HORSES,<br />
+SWIFTER THAN MEN,<br />
+TO CARRY MY MESSAGES,<br />
+A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+</p>
+
+<p>Then he went into his rainbow house and laid himself down on his rainbow
+bed. He scarcely had taken forty winks when he heard a <i>rat-tat-tatting</i>
+on the rainbow window and a <i>rap-rap-rapping</i> on the rainbow door.
+Quickly he leaped from his great bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Who be ye?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We be messengers," came a gentle voice through the keyhole, "come to
+serve the King."</p>
+
+<p>Then he opened the door, and there before him flitted and twittered a
+company of the most curious little people that he ever had set eyes
+upon. They had each a pair of beady eyes, a little pointed nose, a set
+of little scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, fitting as snug
+as ever the tailor could make it.</p>
+
+<p>"What are your names?" asked the King.</p>
+
+<p>"We are the birds, and our names are many. We saw the King's sign in the
+sky and have come&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>To carry your messages, a million times ten."</i></span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then the King, remembering the Winds, addressed them in very deep and
+solemn tones: "The task is a great one. The King's business is exceeding
+grave and important. My messengers must be swift and faithful, must
+remember my commands and keep my secrets. Are ye able?"</p>
+
+<p>Each bird laid his little scratchy toes on his little pointed nose and
+vowed that he would remember the King's commands and keep the King's
+secrets.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said the King, "make ready. Far to the north dwells a people
+that I love. For many a month they have lived amid ice and snow and the
+bitter frosts. Now they sigh for warmer days, and I have heard them. I
+am planning a delightful surprise for them. I am going to carry spring
+to them. Go, find the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and bid them
+come at once to the King's court, that I may take them and the spring
+days to my suffering and discouraged people. Then return with all speed
+to the King, and remember &mdash;do not betray my secret."</p>
+
+<p>The bird-messengers hastened away as fast as ever their wings could
+carry them. They summoned the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and
+bade them make haste to the Earth King. They, of course, turned back as
+they were commanded, but before they reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> home again, each one of
+them was seized with a strange, restless, uneasy feeling right in the
+middle of his feathers. It must have been the secret trying to get out.
+One by one they stole past the King's house under cover of the night and
+made their way to the north country. And when the morning came, there
+they were, sitting on the fence posts and in the apple trees, just
+bursting with the happy secret of the King.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then the robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"We know something,&mdash;we won't tell,&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Somebody's coming,&mdash;you know well.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>This is his name ('twixt you and me),</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>S-P-R-I-N-G."</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The people were very happy when they heard what the birds said, and with
+much excitement began to get ready for the springtime.</p>
+
+<p>Now, of course, the King knew nothing about all this, and was very happy
+in thinking of the surprise that he was to give the people. He took the
+warm sunshine and the soft south wind for companions, and made his way
+in all haste to the land of ice and snow. As he arrived, with his
+delightful secret, as he thought, hidden in his heart, he was amazed to
+find an old woman sitting in her doorway knitting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why are you sitting here?" he asked. "Why are you not within, warming
+your feet by the fire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, don't you know?" she said, "spring is coming!"</p>
+
+<p>"Spring?" he asked, almost roughly; "how do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said she with a smile, trying not to look at a robin that turned
+his back behind the picket fence, hoping that if the King saw him he
+might think he was an English sparrow, "a little bird told me."</p>
+
+<p>The King walked up the street, looking gloomy enough, and soon came
+across a gardener with his rake, uncovering the crocuses and the
+daffodils.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you do this, my good man? Surely your flowers will freeze. You
+had much better be covering them up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," he said, straightening his bent back, "spring is coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Spring," said the King; "how do <i>you</i> know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said the gardener, with a grin, and a twinkle in his left eye, as
+he caught sight of a bluebird peeking half-scared around the limb of a
+near-by apple tree, "a little bird told me."</p>
+
+<p>Then the disgraceful story all came out: that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"We know something,&mdash;we won't tell,&mdash;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Somebody's coming,&mdash;you know well.</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>This is his name ('twixt you and me),</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><i>S-P-R-I-N-G."</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>My! but wasn't the Earth King disgusted! And weren't the bird-messengers
+ashamed to come when he sternly called them! Each laid his little
+pointed nose on his little scratchy toes, and dropped his eyes and
+uttered never a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Silly birds," he said in scornful voice. "You vowed to keep my secrets.
+You have broken your vow. You obeyed my commands and called the south
+wind and the sunshine; so I cannot be too harsh with you. But you cannot
+keep my secrets, so I cannot keep you as my messengers. Now and then I
+may use you as my servants. Adieu!"</p>
+
+<p>Then the birds flew sadly away as quietly and quickly as ever they
+could, and set to work building their nests in holes in the trees and
+holes in the ground and in out-of-the-way places, making such a
+chattering meantime that neither they, nor any one else, could hear
+themselves think.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the Earth King was nearly discouraged. He did not know what
+in the world to do. He rested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> his elbow on his knee and his great head
+in his hand and thought and wondered. Then once again he rose and took
+the great brush and wrote the same big words on the sky. And for very
+weariness he lay down on a great bank of clouds and soon was sound
+asleep. As he slept, the cloud grew bigger and bigger and blacker and
+blacker, and the thunder came nearer and nearer until, all at once,
+CRASH-CRASH&mdash;the cloud seemed torn to pieces and the King leaped to his
+feet half-scared to death, even if he was a King. There before him,
+darting this way and that way, and up and down, and across-ways, was a
+swarm of little red-hot creatures that hissed and buzzed and cracked
+like the Fourth of July.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he asked in half-fright as he rubbed his eyes, "and what
+do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"Messengers, messengers, messengers," whispered they all at once, "and
+we have come to serve the King."</p>
+
+<p>"What are your names?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are the Lightning Spirits; sometimes men call us Electricity&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The swiftest creatures that are known to men,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>To carry your messages, a million times ten."</i></span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The King charged them gravely and solemnly, as he had done the winds and
+the birds before them, that his messengers must be true and faithful and
+must keep his secrets. But no matter how great the task nor how heavy
+the oaths with which he bound them to be faithful, they were eager, all
+of them, to serve the King. Only he must build road-ways for them. They
+had not wings to fly, and their feet were not accustomed to the highways
+of the land. They might lose their way. So the King decided to try them.
+He called his laborers and ordered them to erect tall poles, and from
+pole to pole to lay slender roadways of wire. Miles and miles of these
+roadways he built, over the hills and through the valleys. And when all
+was complete, he called the spirits to him and whispered to them his
+secret messages. Quick as thought they ran over the little roadways,
+hither and thither, and back again, doing faithfully and well the King's
+errands and keeping the King's secrets. They whispered never so much as
+a word of them. So the Earth King called a great assembly, and before
+them all appointed the Lightning Spirits to be his trusted messengers
+for ever and a day.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the winds were very jealous when they heard of it, and they
+determined to get revenge by stealing the messages from the spirits.
+They dashed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> against the wires day after day, trying to break them and
+get the secrets, but all to no purpose. All they could hear was
+MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M; and the harder they blew, the louder they heard it.</p>
+
+<p>The birds had all along been sorry that they had given away the great
+secret, and had been hoping that the King would give them another
+chance. They were much too gentle to do as the winds did. But they were
+very curious to find out what the King's messages were. So day after day
+they went to the wires and sat upon them and snuggled down as close to
+them as they could get and listened hard, putting now the right ear down
+and now the left&mdash;but all they could ever hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M-M.</p>
+
+<p><i>And they seem never to have got over that habit!</i> If you want to find
+out for yourself the truth of this tale, <i>you go</i> some day when the wind
+is blowing against the wires and the birds are sitting upon them,
+snuggled close, and put your ear to a telegraph pole and all <i>you</i> will
+hear is MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;">
+<img src="images/24s-045.jpg" width="365" height="450" alt="KATCHA AND THE DEVIL" title="" />
+<span class="caption">KATCHA AND THE DEVIL</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="KATCHA_AND_THE_DEVIL5" id="KATCHA_AND_THE_DEVIL5"></a>KATCHA AND THE DEVIL<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE STORY OF A CLINGING VINE</h4>
+
+
+<p>THERE was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she
+owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good
+it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not
+even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for
+her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn't open her mouth without
+scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you
+could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until
+by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.</p>
+
+<p>Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was
+a dance either at the burgomaster's, or at the tavern. As soon as the
+bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls
+gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first
+at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the
+girls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when
+she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday
+after Sunday just the same.</p>
+
+<p>One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to
+herself: "Here I am getting old and yet I've never once danced with a
+boy! Plague take it, to-day I'd dance with the devil if he asked me!"</p>
+
+<p>She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat
+down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had
+invited to dance.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a stranger in hunter's green came in. He sat down at a table
+near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer,
+he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she
+was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly
+and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket,
+tossed it to the piper, and called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>The boys snickered and the girls giggled, hiding behind each other and
+stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn't hear
+them laughing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> But Katcha wasn't noticing them at all. Katcha was
+dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at
+her, Katcha wouldn't have cared.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once
+did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks
+and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to
+part, "I wish I could dance with you forever!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the stranger. "Come with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Put your arm around my neck and I'll tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a
+devil and flew straight down to hell.</p>
+
+<p>At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.</p>
+
+<p>His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was
+exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on
+tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.</p>
+
+<p>The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself
+with Katcha still glued to his neck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What's that thing you've got around your neck?" the Prince asked.</p>
+
+<p>So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard
+Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. "So I
+asked her to dance with me," the devil said. "Afterwards just to
+frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won't let
+go of me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Serve you right, you dunce!" the Prince said. "How often have I told
+you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might
+have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your Majesty to make her let go!" the poor devil implored.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not!" said the Prince. "You'll have to carry her back to earth
+yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a
+lesson to you."</p>
+
+<p>So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with
+Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He
+promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He
+cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.</p>
+
+<p>Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> meadow where a
+shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his
+flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so
+that the shepherd didn't recognize him.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, there," the shepherd said, "what's that you're carrying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't ask me," the devil said with a sigh. "I'm so worn out I'm nearly
+dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along
+comes a woman and jumps on my back and won't let go. I'm trying to carry
+her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don't believe
+I'm able. My legs are giving out."</p>
+
+<p>The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: "I tell you what: I'll
+help you. I can't leave my sheep long, but I'll carry her halfway."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said the devil, "I'd be very grateful if you did!"</p>
+
+<p>So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: "Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!"</p>
+
+<p>When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of
+the devil and leapt upon the shepherd's back, catching hold of the
+collar of his sheepskin coat.</p>
+
+<p>Now the young shepherd soon found that the long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> shaggy coat and Katcha
+made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of
+his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of
+Katcha.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he'd like to
+throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it
+by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he
+thought he could slip out of it without Katcha's discovering what he was
+doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn't move. He
+slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn't move. He unlooped the
+first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button.
+Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk!
+he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!</p>
+
+<p>When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Katcha?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "I
+decided to leave her up yonder in a pond."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear friend," the devil cried, "I thank you! You have done me a
+great favor. If it hadn't been for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> you I might be carrying Katcha till
+dooms-day. I'll never forget you and some time I'll reward you. As you
+don't know who it is you've helped, I must tell you I'm a devil."</p>
+
+<p>With these words the devil vanished.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to
+himself: "Well, if they're all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able
+for them!"</p>
+
+<p>The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young
+duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing.
+He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as
+he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people
+until the whole land was crying out against them.</p>
+
+<p>Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and
+ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two
+governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the
+three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the
+duke from questioning him further.</p>
+
+<p>"Such danger," he said, "threatens your life and the lives of your two
+governors that I fear to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever it is," said the duke, "speak. But I warn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> you to speak the
+truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your
+life."</p>
+
+<p>The astrologer bowed and said: "Hear then, O Duke, what the planets
+foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day,
+at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two
+governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and
+such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you
+off to hell."</p>
+
+<p>The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply
+shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of
+judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.</p>
+
+<p>As for the governors, they couldn't eat a bite of food and were carried
+from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten
+wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all
+the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.</p>
+
+<p>The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of
+state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.</p>
+
+<p>The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his
+flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings
+in the great world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: "I have come,
+my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first
+quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because
+they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they're
+behaving themselves now so they're to be given another chance. But they
+don't know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first
+castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and
+the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to
+me and say: 'What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!' I'll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask
+the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just
+threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second
+governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you,
+though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the
+moon is full, I'm to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked
+that he's to have no second chance. So don't try to save him, for if you
+do you'll pay for it with your own skin. Don't forget!"</p>
+
+<p>The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When
+the moon was in its first quarter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> he went to the first castle. A great
+crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away
+the governor.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle
+opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the
+governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.</p>
+
+<p>The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the
+hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by this?" he shouted. "Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!"</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the
+shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in
+reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor
+ordered that they be given him without delay.</p>
+
+<p>Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went
+through exactly the same performance.</p>
+
+<p>It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he
+had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he
+sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and
+when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> to rescue him
+likewise from the devil's clutches.</p>
+
+<p>"Master," the shepherd answered, "I cannot promise you anything. I have
+to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you
+really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and
+kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you
+even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place."</p>
+
+<p>The duke declared that with God's help he would mend his ways and the
+shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.</p>
+
+<p>With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full
+moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer's
+prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for
+him had changed.</p>
+
+<p>Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too
+soon the fatal day arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the
+arrival of the devil.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before
+him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:</p>
+
+<p>"Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard,
+which was filled with a great multitude of people.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way
+through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be trouble!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do <i>you</i> mean?" whispered the devil. "Don't you remember what I
+told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" the shepherd whispered back. "I don't care anything about the
+duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She's alive and she's
+looking for you!"</p>
+
+<p>The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.</p>
+
+<p>All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed
+in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.</p>
+
+<p>As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his
+chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the
+shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;">
+<img src="images/24s-059.jpg" width="372" height="450" alt="THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2><a name="THE_WHITE_DOGS_OF_ARRAN6" id="THE_WHITE_DOGS_OF_ARRAN6"></a>THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>FOR a long hour, on that November afternoon, my brother Ted had been
+standing at the gate below the ranch house, waiting and waiting, while
+the twilight filled the round hollow of the valley as water slowly fills
+a cup. At last the figure of a rider, silhouetted against the
+rose-colored sky, came into view along the crest of the rocky ridge. The
+little cow pony was loping as swiftly as the rough trail would permit,
+but to Ted's impatient eyes it seemed to crawl as slowly as a fly on a
+window pane. Although the horseman looked like a cow puncher, at that
+distance, with his slouch hat and big saddle, the eager boy knew that it
+was the district doctor making his far rounds over the range. A swift
+epidemic had been sweeping over Montana, passing from one ranch to
+another and leaving much illness and suffering behind. Ted's uncle and
+the cousin who was his own age had both been stricken two days before
+and it seemed that the doctor would never come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you are here," he said as the doctor's pony, covered with foam
+and quivering with fatigue, passed through the open gate. "We have two
+patients for you."</p>
+
+<p>The man nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Fever, I suppose," he commented, "and aching bones, and don't know what
+to make of themselves because they have never been sick before? I have
+seen a hundred such cases in the last few days. It is bad at all the
+ranches, but the sheep herders, off in their cabins by themselves, are
+hit particularly hard."</p>
+
+<p>He slipped from the saddle and strode into the house, leaving Ted to
+take the tired pony around to the stables. It was very dark now and
+growing cold, but he felt warm and comforted, somehow, since the doctor
+had come. He heard running feet behind him and felt a dog's nose, cold
+and wet, thrust into his hand. It was Pedro, the giant, six months' old
+wolf hound puppy, long legged and shaggy haired, the pride of Ted's life
+and the best beloved of all his possessions. The big dog followed his
+master into the stable and sat down, blinking solemnly in the circle of
+lantern light, while the boy was caring for the doctor's horse and
+bedding it down. Ted's thoughts were very busy, now with his anxieties
+about his uncle, now racing out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> over the range to wonder how those in
+the stricken ranch houses and lonely cabins might be faring. There was
+the ranch on Arran Creek&mdash;people there were numerous enough to care for
+each other. It might be worse at Thompson's Crossing, and, oh, how would
+it be with those shepherds who lived in tiny cottages here and there
+along the Big Basin, so far from neighbors that often for months they
+saw no other faces than the wooly vacant ones of their thousands of
+sheep.</p>
+
+<p>There was one, a big grizzled Irishman, whom Ted had seen only a few
+times. Nevertheless, he was one of his closest friends. They had met on
+a night when the boy was hunting, and he could remember still how they
+had lain together by the tiny camp fire, with the coyotes yelping in the
+distance, with the great plain stretching out into the dark, with the
+slender curl of smoke rising straight upward and the big stars seeming
+almost within reach of his hand in the thin air. The lonely Irishman had
+opened his heart to his new friend and had told him much of his own
+country, so unlike this big bare one, a dear green land where the
+tumbledown cottages and little fields were crowded together in such
+comforting comradeship.</p>
+
+<p>"You could open your window of a summer night and give a call to the
+neighbors," he sighed, "and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> needn't to have the voice of the giant
+Finn McCoul to make them hear. In this place a man could fall sick and
+die alone and no one be the wiser."</p>
+
+<p>His reminiscences had wandered farther and farther until he began to
+tell the tales and legends familiar in his own countryside, stories of
+the "Little People" and of Ireland in ancient times. Of them all Ted
+remembered most clearly the story of the white grayhounds of the King of
+Connemara, upon which his friend had dwelt long, showing that in spite
+of its being a thousand years old, it was his favorite tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Like those dogs on Arran Creek, they were perhaps," the Irishman said,
+"only sleeker of coat and swifter of foot, I'm thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"But they couldn't be faster," Ted had objected. "The Arran dogs can
+catch coyotes and jack-rabbits and people have called those the quickest
+animals that run."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," returned the other with true Irish logic, "those Arran dogs are
+Russian, they tell me, and these I speak of were of Connemara, and what
+comes out of Ireland, you may be sure, is faster and fairer than
+anything else on earth."</p>
+
+<p>Against such reasoning Ted had judged it impossible to argue and had
+dropped into silence and finally into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> sleep with the voices of the
+coyotes and the legend of the lean, white Irish grayhounds still running
+like swift water through his dreams.</p>
+
+<p>After that he had visited the lonely shepherd whenever he could find
+time to travel so far. Together they had hunted deer and trapped beaver
+in the foothills above the Big Basin or, when the sheep had to be moved
+to new pasture, had spent hours in earnest talk, plodding patiently in
+the dust after the slow-moving flock. The long habit of silence had
+taken deep hold upon the Irishman, but with Ted alone he seemed willing
+to speak freely. It was on one of these occasions that he had given the
+boy the image of Saint Christopher, "For," he said, "you are like to be
+a great roamer and a great traveler from the way you talk, and those who
+carry the good Saint Christopher with them, always travel safely."</p>
+
+<p>Now, as Ted thought of illness and pestilence spreading across the
+thinly settled state, his first and keenest apprehension was for the
+safety of his friend. His work done, he went quickly back to the house
+where the doctor was already standing on the doorstep again.</p>
+
+<p>"They are not bad cases, either of them," he was saying to Ted's aunt.
+"If they have good care there is no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> danger, but if they don't&mdash;then
+Heaven help them, I can't."</p>
+
+<p>Ted came close and pulled his sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he questioned quickly, "Michael Martin isn't sick, is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Michael Martin?" repeated the doctor. "A big Irishman in the cabin at
+the upper edge of Big Basin? Yes, he's down sick as can be, poor fellow,
+with no one but a gray old collie dog, about the age of himself, I
+should think, to keep him company."</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to give a few last directions.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you are master of the house with your uncle laid up," he said
+to Ted again, "and I will have to apply to you to lend me a fresh horse
+so that I can go on."</p>
+
+<p>"You're never going on to-night?" exclaimed Ted; "why, you have been
+riding for all you were worth, all day!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and all the night before," returned the doctor cheerfully, "but
+this is no time to spare horses or doctors. Good gracious, boy, what's
+that?" For Pedro, tall and white in the dark, standing on his hind legs
+to insert an inquisitive puppy nose between the doctor's collar and his
+neck, was an unexpected and startling apparition.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's my dog," Ted explained proudly; "Jim McKenzie, over on Arran
+Creek, gave him to me; he has a lot of them, you know. Pedro is only
+half grown now, he is going to be a lot bigger when he is a year old.
+Yes, I'll bring you a horse right away, yours couldn't go another mile."</p>
+
+<p>When, a few minutes later, the sound of hoofs came clattering up from
+the stables it seemed certain that there were more than four of them.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" the doctor inquired, seeing a second horse with
+saddlebags and blanket roll strapped in place and observing Ted's boots
+and riding coat.</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt and the girls will take care of Uncle," the boy replied, "so I
+am going out to see Michael Martin. You can tell me what to do for him
+as we ride up the trail."</p>
+
+<p>They could feel the sharp wind almost before they began climbing the
+ridge. So far, summer had lingered into November, but the weather was
+plainly changing now and there had been reports of heavy snowfalls in
+the mountains. The stars shone dimly, as though through a veil of mist.</p>
+
+<p>"You had better push on as fast as you can," advised the doctor as they
+came to the parting of their ways. "When a man is as sick as Michael,
+what ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> is to happen, comes quickly." His horse jumped and snorted.
+"There's that white puppy of yours again. What a ghost he is! He is
+rather big to take with you to a sick man's cabin."</p>
+
+<p>Pedro had come dashing up the trail behind them, in spite of his having
+been ordered sternly to stay at home. At six months old the sense of
+obedience is not quite so great as it should be, and the love of going
+on an expedition is irresistible.</p>
+
+<p>"It would take me forever to drive him home now," Ted admitted; "I will
+take him along to Jim McKenzie's and leave him there with his brothers.
+I can make Arran Creek by breakfast time and ought to get to Michael's
+not long after noon. Well, so long!"</p>
+
+<p>The stars grew more dim and the wind keener as he rode on through the
+night. His pony cantered steadily with the easy rocking-horse motion
+that came near to lulling him to sleep. Pedro paddled alongside, his
+long legs covering the miles with untiring energy. They stopped at
+midnight to drink from the stream they were crossing, to rest a little
+and to eat some lunch from the saddlebags. Then they pressed on once
+more, on and on, until gray and crimson began to show behind the
+mountains to the eastward,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> and the big white house of Arran at last
+came into sight.</p>
+
+<p>Jim McKenzie's place was bigger than the ordinary ranch house, for there
+were gabled roofs showing through the group of trees, there were tall
+barns and a wide fenced paddock where lived the white Russian wolfhounds
+for which the Arran ranch was famous. A deep-voiced chorus of welcome
+was going up as Ted and Pedro came down the trail. The puppy responded
+joyfully and went bounding headlong to the foot of the slope to greet
+his brothers. It was a beautiful sight to see the band of great dogs,
+their coats like silver in the early morning light, romping together
+like a dozen kittens, pursuing each other in circles, checking,
+wheeling, rolling one another over, leaping back and forth over the low
+fences that divided the paddock, with the grace and free agility of
+deer. Early as it was, Jim McKenzie was walking down to the stables and
+stopped to greet Ted as, weary and dusty, he rode through the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure we'll keep Pedro," he said when he had heard the boy's errand.
+"Yes, we've a good many sick here; I'd have sent out on the range myself
+but there was nobody to spare. They tell me the herds of sheep are in
+terrible confusion, and most of the herders are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> down. Poor old Michael
+Martin, I hope you get there in time to help him. Turn your horse into
+the corral, we'll give you another to go on with. Now come in to
+breakfast." Ted snatched a hurried meal, threw his saddle upon a fresh
+pony, and set off again. For a long distance he could hear the
+lamentations of Pedro protesting loudly at the paddock gate. The way,
+after he passed Arran Creek, led out into the flat country of the Big
+Basin with the sagebrush-dotted plain stretching far ahead. It seemed
+that he rode endlessly and arrived nowhere, so long was the way and so
+unchanging the landscape. Once, as he crossed a stream, a deer rose,
+stamping and snorting among the low bushes, and fled away toward the
+hills, seeming scarcely to touch the ground as it went. Later, something
+quick and silent, and looking like a reddish-brown collie, leaped from
+the sagebrush and scudded across the trail almost under his horse's
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>"A coyote, out in the open in daylight," he reflected, somewhat
+startled. "It must have been cold up in the mountains to make them so
+bold. That looks bad for the sheep."</p>
+
+<p>It was disturbing also to see how many scattered sheep he was beginning
+to pass, little bands, solitary ewes with half-grown lambs trotting at
+their heels,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> adventurous yearlings straying farther and farther from
+their comrades. Once or twice he tried to drive them together, but owing
+to his haste and his inexperience with their preposterous ways, he had
+very little success.</p>
+
+<p>"There is going to be bad weather, too," he observed as he saw the blue
+sky disappear beneath an overcast of gray. "I had better get on to
+Michael's as fast as I can."</p>
+
+<p>He saw the little mud and log cabin at last, tucked away among some
+stunted trees near the shoulder of a low ridge. It looked deceivingly
+near, yet he rode and rode and could not reach it. White flakes were
+flying now, fitfully at first, then thicker and thicker until he could
+scarcely see. His growing misgivings gave place to greater and greater
+anxiety concerning his friend, while there ran through his mind again
+and again the doctor's words, "Whatever is to happen, comes quickly."</p>
+
+<p>It was past noon and had begun to seem as though he had been riding
+forever when he breasted the final slope at last, jumped from his horse,
+and thundered at the cabin door. The whine of a dog answered him from
+within, and a faint voice, broken but still audible, told him that
+Michael was alive. The cabin, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> it seemed to him as he entered, was a
+good ten degrees colder than it was outside. Poor Michael, helpless and
+shivering on the bunk in the corner, looked like the shrunken ghost of
+the giant Irishman he had known before. Ted rekindled the fire, emptied
+his saddlebags, piled his extra blankets upon the bed and, with a skill
+bred of long practice in camp cookery, set about preparing a meal.
+Michael was so hoarse as to be almost unable to speak and so weak that
+his mind wandered in the midst of a sentence, yet all of his thoughts
+were on the care of his sheep.</p>
+
+<p>"When I felt the sickness coming on me I tried to drive them in," he
+whispered, "but they broke and scattered and I fell beside the
+trail&mdash;they must get in&mdash;snow coming&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>In an hour his fever rose again, he tossed and muttered with only
+fleeting intervals of consciousness. Ted had found food and shelter for
+his horse in the sheep shed, and had settled down to his task of anxious
+watching. The snow fell faster and faster so that darkness came on by
+mid-afternoon. He had tried to drive the old collie dog out to herd in
+the sheep, but the poor old creature would not leave its master and,
+even when pushed outside, remained whining beside the door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He couldn't do much anyway," sighed Ted as he let him in again. "How
+those coyotes yelp! I wish, after all, that I had brought Pedro."</p>
+
+<p>Michael had heard the coyotes too and was striving feebly to rise from
+his bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go out to them, my poor creatures," he gasped. "Those devil
+beasts will have driven them over the whole country before morning."</p>
+
+<p>But he fell back, too weak to move farther, and was silent a long time.
+When he did speak it was almost aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"With the cold and the snow, I'm thinking there will be worse things
+abroad this night than just the coyotes."</p>
+
+<p>He lay very still while Ted sat beside him, beginning to feel sleepy and
+blinking at the firelight. Eleven o'clock, twelve, one, the slow hands
+of his watch pointed to the crawling hours. Michael was not asleep but
+he said nothing, he was listening too intently. It was after one and the
+boy might have been dozing, when the old man spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark," he said.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Ted could hear nothing save the pat-pat of the snow
+against the window, but the collie dog bristled and growled as he lay
+upon the hearth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> and pricked his ears sharply. Then the boy heard it
+too, a faint cry and far off, not the sharp yelping of the coyotes,
+though that was ominous enough, but the long hungry howl of a timber
+wolf. Tears of weakness and terror were running down the Irishman's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor sheep, I must save them," he cried. "What's the value of a
+man's life alongside of the creatures that's trusted him. Those
+murderers will have every one of them killed for me."</p>
+
+<p>Ted jumped up quickly and bundled on his coat.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your rifle, Michael?" he asked. "I don't know much about sheep,
+but I will do what I can."</p>
+
+<p>"The rifle?" returned Michael doubtfully. "Now, I had it on my shoulder
+the day I went out with the sickness on me, and it is in my mind that I
+did not bring it home again. But there is the little gun hanging on the
+nail; there's no more shells for it but there's two shots still left in
+the chamber."</p>
+
+<p>The boy took down the rusty revolver and spun the cylinder with a
+practised finger.</p>
+
+<p>"Two shots is right," he said, "and you have no more shells? Well, two
+shots may scare a wolf."</p>
+
+<p>If Michael had been in his proper senses, Ted very well knew, he would
+never have permitted, without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> protest, such an expedition as the boy
+was planning. As it was, however, he lay back in his bunk again, his
+mind wandering off once more into feverish dreams.</p>
+
+<p>"If it was in the Old Country," he muttered, "the very Little People
+themselves would rise up to help a man in such a plight. You could be
+feeling the rush of their wings in the air and could hear the cry of the
+fairy hounds across the hills. America is a good country, but, ah&mdash;it's
+not the same!"</p>
+
+<p>Hoping to quiet him, Ted took the little Saint Christopher from his
+pocket and laid it in the sick man's hand. Then he finished strapping
+his big boots, opened the door and slipped out quietly. Michael scarcely
+noticed his going.</p>
+
+<p>The snow had fallen without drifting much, nor was it yet very deep. He
+hurried down the slope, not quite knowing what he was to do, thinking
+that at least he would gather as many sheep as he could and drive them
+homeward. But there were no sheep to be found. Where so many had been
+scattered that afternoon there was now not one. The whole of the Big
+Basin seemed suddenly to have emptied of them. Presently, however, he
+found a broad trail of trampled snow which he followed, where it led
+along a tiny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> stream at the foot of the bridge. As he turned, he heard
+again that long, terrifying howl coming down the wind. The sheep,
+perverse enough to scatter to the four winds when their master sought to
+drive them in, had now, it seemed, gathered of their own will when so
+great a danger threatened. Ted came upon them at last, huddled together
+in a little ravine where the sparse undergrowth gave some shelter from
+the snow. He could just see them in the dim light, their gray compact
+bodies crowded close, their foolish black faces seeming to look
+piteously to him for help. They were very quiet, although now and then
+they would shift a little, stamp, and move closer. The cry of the wolf
+was stilled at last, but not because the fierce marauder was not drawing
+nearer.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, as he stood watching, there slipped a swift dark shape over the
+opposite edge of the hollow and flung itself upon a straggling ewe on
+the outskirts of the flock. It was followed by a second silent shadow,
+and a third. The poor sheep gave only one frantic bleat, then all was
+still again save for the sound of a hideous snapping and tearing, of a
+furious struggle muffled in the soft depths of the snow. Ted raised the
+revolver and took careful aim, he pulled the trigger, but no explosion
+followed. Michael's improvidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> in letting his stock dwindle to only
+two cartridges might be counted upon also to have let those two be damp.
+Helplessly the boy spun the cylinder and snapped the hammer again and
+again, but to no purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The sheep was down now, with one of the savage hunters standing over it,
+another tearing at its throat while the third was slipping along the
+edge of the flock selecting a fresh victim. Ted's weapon was useless,
+yet he must do something, he could not stand and see the whole herd
+destroyed before his eyes. Perhaps he could frighten them away as one
+could coyotes: he was so angry at this senseless, brutal slaughter that
+he lost all sense of prudence. He waved his arms up and down and shouted
+at the top of his lungs. He saw the creatures drop their prey and turn
+to look up at him. He ran along the slope, still shouting, then, of a
+sudden, stepped into an unexpected hollow, lost his balance and fell
+headlong. One of the wolves left the flock and came creeping swiftly
+toward him, its belly dragging in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>His cry must have carried far in the quiet of the night for it was
+answered from a great way off. A deep voice broke the stillness and
+another, the call of coursing hounds who have winded their quarry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> but
+have not yet found its trail. And mingled with the barking chorus there
+rose high the joyful yelp of a puppy who seeks his beloved master.</p>
+
+<p>Ted, slipping in the snow, struggled to his knees and called again and
+again. The stealthy, approaching shadow crept a yard nearer, then paused
+to lift a gray muzzle and sniff the air. The second wolf, with
+slobbering bloody jaws, turned to listen, the flock of sheep snorted and
+stamped in the snow.</p>
+
+<p>A minute passed, then another. The boy managed to get to his feet. Then
+across the edge of the hollow, white against the dark underbrush, he saw
+the dogs coming, a line of swift, leaping forms, huge, shaggy and
+beautiful, their great voices all giving tongue together. Down the slope
+they came like an avalanche, only one separating himself from the others
+for a moment to fling himself upon Ted, to lick his face in ecstatic
+greeting and to rub a cold nose against his cheek. That nimble puppy
+nose it was that had lifted the latch of a gate not too securely
+fastened, and so set the whole pack free. Then Pedro ran to join his
+brothers who were sweeping on to battle. Wolfhounds are taught to catch,
+not to kill their quarry, but the thirst for blood was in the hearts of
+the dogs of Arran that night. There was only a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> of struggle, a
+few choking cries, and the fight was over.</p>
+
+<p>Day broke next morning, clear and bright, with the chinook blowing, the
+big warm wind that melts the snows and lays the white hills bare almost
+in an hour. Michael Martin, fallen into a proper sleep at last, woke
+suddenly and sat up in his bunk. He startled Ted, who, rather stiff and
+sore from his night's adventures, was kneeling by the fire preparing
+breakfast. The boy came quickly to his patient's side to inquire how he
+did.</p>
+
+<p>"It's better I am in body," the Irishman answered; "indeed I begin to
+feel almost like a whole man again. But&mdash;" he shook his head sadly, "my
+poor wits, they're gone away entirely."</p>
+
+<p>Michael sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"After you were gone last night," he answered, "even my wandering senses
+had an inkling of what a dangerous errand it was, and I got up from my
+bed and stumbled to the window to call you back. Yes, the sickness has
+made me daft entirely, for as sure as I live, I saw the white grayhounds
+of Connemara go over the hill. But daft or no&mdash;" he sniffed at the odor
+of frying bacon that rose from the hearth, "I am going to relish my
+breakfast this day. Eh,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> glory me, if there isn't another of the
+creatures now!"</p>
+
+<p>For Pedro, once more applying a knowing muzzle to the clumsy latch, had
+pushed open the door and stood upon the step, wagging and apologetic,
+the morning sun shining behind him. Long-legged and awkward, he stepped
+over the threshold and came to the bedside to sniff inquisitively at the
+little silver image that lay on the blanket. Michael could never be
+persuaded to believe otherwise than that Saint Christopher had brought
+him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;">
+<img src="images/24s-081.jpg" width="372" height="450" alt="WIND AN&#39; WAVE AN&#39; WANDHERIN&#39; FLAME" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WIND AN&#39; WAVE AN&#39; WANDHERIN&#39; FLAME</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>("'Tis mindin' somethin' that happened far an' back o' the times o'
+the Little People I am. Sure, 'tis meself had nigh on forgot it
+entirely, but when all's quiet I'll be afther tellin' it.")</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>THERE was always battlin' somewhere, back in those days; an' heroes that
+fought with sword an' spear&mdash;forged far up an' under the rainbow by Len
+the Smith, that was mighty in all sorts o' wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>Now one time he was beatin' out a great shield o' gold; an' 'twas
+wrought so cunnin' that who turned it over an' laid it on the wather
+could step on it an' sail where he would. An' for a device on it he made
+roses o' the fine gold, raised far out from it, as they'd been growin'
+right there. Almost they seemed wavin' in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>An' as he came to sthrikin' the last blows, his hand slipped, an' his
+great hammer went flyin' downward through the air; an' his cry o'
+command sent ringin' afther it was too late to hindher.</p>
+
+<p>Now 'twas about toward sunset, an' the waves were beatin' high an' wild
+afther storm on the west coast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> that Artan, son o' Duallach, that was a
+king's son, was huntin' along the coast. All day he'd been tryin' to
+keep from the company o' Myrdu, his half-brother, but only by now had he
+shaken him off; an' he was runnin' swiftly, for gladness o' bein' alone
+with the breeze an' the flyin' spray.</p>
+
+<p>Just as the sinkin' sun touched the sea, he heard the great cryin'-out
+o' Len, out o' the North, an' looked up into the deep sky. An' there he
+saw, whirlin' down toward him, somethin' first dark an' then bright. Not
+a fearin' thought was in him; an' as it came nigh he sprang with hand
+stretched out an' caught it &mdash;just savin' it from bein' buried in the
+beach sand.</p>
+
+<p>The force of its fallin' sent him to his knees, but in a breath he was
+on his feet again, lookin' at what he held. Sure, 'twas nothin' less
+than a great hammer, glowin' an' darkenin' by turns, as there had been
+livin' fire within it.</p>
+
+<p>"What'n ever are ye, then?" cried Artan, out o' the surprise, never
+thinkin' on gettin' an answer. Yet thrue an' at once came a whisperin'
+like wind in pine forests far off&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The hammer o' Len."</p>
+
+<p>"An' how'll I get ye back to him, not knowin' where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> to find him?" asked
+Artan. "Sure, the winds must rise up an' blow me to the end o' the
+rainbow, where he sits, or I'll never get there at all."</p>
+
+<p>The words were scarce past his lips when down across the hills came a
+warm gust o' south wind&mdash;the last o' the storm&mdash;an' caught him up, still
+clingin' to the hammer, an' swept him upwards till he could see naught
+for mist an' hurryin' clouds. Then came a feelin' o' sinkin', an' a
+sudden jar; an' there he was standin' on green turf, lookin' at white
+mountains, risin' higher nor aught he'd seen, an' between him an' them
+shimmered the rainbow itself, glowin' all colors in the light o' sunset.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, 'tis aisy seein' where I am," laughed Artan, startin' toward it
+bravely.</p>
+
+<p>For a while he went on, an' at last he came nigh enough to see the
+mighty shape o' Len, standin' waitin' at his forge. An' while night was
+fast comin' on, an' the stars showin' out in the sky over all, yet the
+sunfire was still flamin' up in his smithy, workin' his will at a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>If fear had had place in the heart of Artan, then was time for it, when
+he saw the deep eyes o' Len, like dark sea-water in caves, lookin' far
+an' through him. But never had that come to him, an' without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> speakin'
+he raised the hammer toward the sthrong knotted hand that claimed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Whist, then!" says Len, graspin' it quick for fear the metal was
+coolin'. "Say naught till I'm done!" With that he beat an' turned the
+shield, an' gave the endin' touches to it. Then, with another big shout,
+he hung it on the rainbow, flashin' an' shinin' till men on earth below
+saw it for Northern Lights in the night sky.</p>
+
+<p>"How came ye here in me forge, Artan, son o' Duallach?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"That I know not," spoke out Artan. "When I held yon hammer in hand, an'
+cried on the wind for blowin' me to him that owned it&mdash;for no other road
+there was for returnin' it&mdash;the warm blast came out o' the south an'
+caught me up here."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," laughed Len, deep an' hearty. "The winds are at the will o' him
+that handles it; but too great a power is that to be given careless to
+mortal man. What reward will ye have, now? Whether gold, or power above
+other men, or the fairest o' maids for yer wife?"</p>
+
+<p>Then the blood reddened the face of Artan.</p>
+
+<p>"Naught care I for gold," says he. "An' power over men should be for him
+that wins it fair."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then 'tis the fairest o' maids ye'll be afther wantin'?" asked Len.
+"Have ye seen such a one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," says Artan. "Dark are the faces in the house o' Duallach, an'
+little to me likin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Then shall ye have one fair as day," says Len. He turned to where the
+shield was hangin', an' from the heart o' that same he plucked a rose o'
+the beaten gold, an' gave it to Artan.</p>
+
+<p>"Cast it in the sea surf at sunrise," says he, "callin'
+'Darthuil!'&mdash;then shall ye have yer reward. But one thing mind. Safely
+yer own is she not till first lost an' won back. When ye know not where
+to seek aid in searchin', cry on me name at the sea-coast, an' aid will
+there be for ye if ye come not too late&mdash;wind, wave, an' wandherin'
+flame. Never does Len forget. Hold fast yer rose."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, again came a gale, chill from the north this time, an'
+whirled Artan past cloud an' above surgin' seas, an' left him on the
+hilltop above the beach at the last hour before the dawnin'.</p>
+
+<p>Quick Artan hastened down the cliff, still graspin' the golden rose, an'
+stood where the little small waves curled over the stones, waitin' for
+the first gleam o' the sun to touch the sea. Hours it seemed to him, but
+minutes it was in truth, before he caught a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> breath, raised the
+rose high in air, an' tossed it swift an' sure into the snowy crest of a
+green incomin' wave.</p>
+
+<p>"Darthuil!" he cried, an' the cliff echo made a song of it.</p>
+
+<p>As the drops flew upward in the red dawn an' the breaker swept in, there
+by his side stood a maid with the gold o' the rose in her hair, an' the
+white o' sea-foam in her fair skin, an' the color o' the sunrise in lips
+an' cheek. Blither nor spring, he caught her hand an' led her over the
+hills to the house o' Duallach, they two singin' for joy o' livin' as
+they went.</p>
+
+<p>Now not long had the two been wed (an' welcome were they under the roof
+of Duallach), when Myrdu, that was half-brother to Artan, but older nor
+him, came back from far huntin', ill-pleased at missin' Artan for his
+companion, an' for helpin' him carry the red deer he'd shot.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis an ill youth," says he, "an' will get no good from lyin' on the
+cliff edge an' lettin' the hunt go by."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," says Duallach, slow to anger. "Fair fortune has he won, an' the
+favor o' the gods; an' has brought home a bride, fair as the sun at
+noon."</p>
+
+<p>Then was Myrdu half ragin' from bein' jealous; but not wishin' to show
+that same, he called for meat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> an' dhrink to be brought him in the great
+hall. An' Artan, wishin' to be friendly like, cried out for Darthuil to
+serve his brother. Sure, when Myrdu saw her comin' toward him&mdash;shinin'
+among the dark lasses o' Duallach's household like a star in the night
+sky&mdash;fury was in his heart for thinkin' that Artan, bein' younger nor
+him, had won what he had not, an' soon he laid plans for stealin' her
+from his brother.</p>
+
+<p>'Twas not many days before word o' this came to the ear o' Duallach; an'
+he, hatin' strife, bade Artan an' Darthuil take horse an' ride swiftly
+southward to the Lough o' the Lone Valley, to dwell on the little island
+in it till evil wishes had passed from the heart o' Myrdu. So Artan,
+mindin' what Len had foretold, yet thinkin' it wiser not to be afther
+losin' Darthuil at all, rode away with her on his left hand when Myrdu
+was sleepin' an' not knowin' what was bein' done.</p>
+
+<p>When he roused an' found them gone, an' that none o' the house would say
+whither, he was in a fine passion; but he made as if he was afther goin'
+huntin', an' took his two fierce hounds an' went off to trace the road
+they'd taken. An' sure enough, 'twas not many hours before he was on
+their path.</p>
+
+<p>Now safer would it have been had Artan told Darthuil the full raison why
+he was takin' her far into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> the shelter o' forest an' lough o' the
+wildherness; but she, trustin' him, asked naught, thinkin' no evil o'
+livin' man. So scarce had Artan left her in the low cabin on the island
+an' gone off to hunt, than Myrdu pushed through the bushes, leavin' the
+hounds on the shore behind, an' floated himself out to the island on a
+couple o' logs lashed with a thong o' deer-skin. Ay, but Darthuil was
+startled, not dhreamin' why he'd come.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis Artan is hurt, an' afther sendin' me for ye," says Myrdu, lookin'
+down unaisy like, from not wishin' to meet the rare clear eyes o' her.
+"Come, an' I'll take ye where he lies."</p>
+
+<p>Not waitin' a moment was Darthuil, then, but hurried doin' as she was
+bid, never thinkin' what evil might be in store.</p>
+
+<p>Afther a few hours Artan came back through the trees, an' game a plenty
+he'd found. He pulled out his boat o' skins, an' quick paddled back to
+the island. But there he found no Darthuil; no, nor any sign o' her save
+the little print o' her sandal by the wather's edge.</p>
+
+<p>Then came to his mind the promise o' Len. Never darin' to waste an hour
+searchin' by himself, he ferried his horse across to the mainland,
+mounted, an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> pushed for the sea. Never once did he stop for restin'
+till he was standin' where the waves beat over him, where he had cried
+on Darthuil, an' she had come to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Len!" he called. "Yer aidin', Len! Darthuil is stolen from me."</p>
+
+<p>There came a rumblin' o' thunder, an' on the shore stood a great figure,
+like a pillar o' cloud reachin' half to the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"Never safe yer own till lost an' found, I said," came the deep voice.
+"Now I give ye wild servants, a wind an' a wave an' a wandherin' flame
+for helpin' ye to bring her safe again. Mind well that each will obey ye
+but once, so call on them only when yer sharpest need comes. When ye've
+again set the feet o' Darthuil safe in the hall o' Duallach, none can
+take her from ye more. Now follow yer love. 'Tis to the Northland has
+Myrdu carried her. Let him not pass the White Rocks, or wind an' wave
+an' flame will lose power to aid ye. Use yer wit, now, an' use it well."</p>
+
+<p>Artan would have spoken to thank him, but with the last word Len was no
+more there; so he mounted again an' turned to the north; an' behind him
+came the wind, whisperin' over the grass; an' the wave, runnin' up the
+sthream near at hand; an' the flame, creepin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> among dhry leaves, but
+settin' fire to naught else, its time not bein' come.</p>
+
+<p>Together they all thraveled the betther part of a long day, an' late on
+Artan saw dust risin' ahead. 'Twas a cloud that Myrdu had raised to hide
+the way he was goin', an' beyond it he was ridin', carryin' Darthuil
+before him on his saddle o' skins, with the two hounds lopin' along
+beside to fright her from tryin' to escape, an' to give warnin' of any
+followin'; while not many miles ahead were the White Rocks, that he was
+pushin' to reach.</p>
+
+<p>On hurried Artan, but his horse was wearied, an' little head could he
+make. Moreover, the cloud o' dust left him uncertain o' what was hid. So
+he thought well, an' chose wind to serve him first.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, an' blow the dust far away, whisperin' courage to Darthuil the
+while," says he. An' at once the wind sped far ahead, obeyin' his
+command. When the two dogs felt it touch them, they cowered low; but
+Darthuil took heart, knowin' that help was at hand. An' the dust was no
+more hidin' her from Artan, so she waved her hand an' called aloud to
+him to ride in haste.</p>
+
+<p>Then Myrdu, fearin' that he might yet lose her, threw a handful o' twigs
+behind him in the road; an'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> fallin' they turned into dead trees,
+stoppin' the way on all sides. But Artan well knew the way to clear his
+path.</p>
+
+<p>"Go forward!" he cried to the wandherin' flame, "an' leave not a trace
+o' them!" As he spoke, the flame swept up high in air, roarin' an'
+smokin'; an' in half an instant naught remained o' the logs but a pile
+o' smoldherin' ashes. But still was Myrdu fast nearin' his goal, an' had
+one thing more for helpin'.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped a little sharp knife in the roadway; an' as it fell, it cut
+into the dust, an' there opened a wide, terrible chasm, not to be
+crossed by horse nor man. Then Artan grew clear desperate.</p>
+
+<p>"Wave!" he shouted, "bring Darthuil to me!"</p>
+
+<p>Up then it rose, rollin' forward like flood-tide in spring; an' it
+filled the gulf, an' swept away dogs an' horse an' Myrdu himself, that
+none were heard of from that on; but Darthuil it floated gentle like, as
+she had been a tuft o' thistle-down, back to Artan, waitin' for her.</p>
+
+<p>He caught her an' clasped her close, an' turned his horse, an' never
+halted till he led her safe into the hall o' Duallach, where none might
+steal her from him again. An' there they lived happy all their lives.</p>
+
+<p>But as for the wind an' the wave an' the wandherin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> flame, so sweet an'
+fair was Darthuil that ne'er would they go from her to return to Len. To
+the last o' her life the wind blew soft for her when 'twas overly hot
+elsewhere, an' clear cool wather flowed up from the ground to save her
+dhrawin' any from the river, an' fire burned bright on her hearth
+without need o' plenishin'; an' all that for the love o' Darthuil, that
+was made by Len out o' the foam tossed by the wind from the sea-wave,
+an' the wandherin' flame o' the sunrise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;">
+<img src="images/24s-095.jpg" width="383" height="450" alt="THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="THE_KING_THE_QUEEN_AND_THE_BEE8" id="THE_KING_THE_QUEEN_AND_THE_BEE8"></a>THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>ON a bright summer's day, when the sun beat down fiercely upon the heads
+of the people, King Solomon sought the shade of one of his favorite
+gardens. But even where the foliage on the trees was so thick that it
+seemed the sun's rays could not penetrate, it was also hot. Not a breath
+of air was there to fan the monarch's cheek, and he lay down on the
+thick grass and gazed through the branches of the trees at the blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>"This great heat makes me weary," said the King, and in a few minutes he
+had quietly fallen into a deep sleep.</p>
+
+<p>All was still in the beautiful garden, except for the sound of a few
+humming birds, the twittering of the moths whose many-colored wings
+looked more beautiful than ever in the bright sunshine, and the buzzing
+of the bees. But even these sounds grew still as the fierce rays from
+the sky grew hotter until all nature seemed hushed to rest. Only one
+tiny bee was left moving in the garden. It flew steadily from flower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> to
+flower, sipping the honey, until at length it began to feel overcome by
+the heat.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear! I wonder what is the matter with me," buzzed the little bee.
+"This is the first time I have come out of the hive, and I do feel
+queer. I hope I am not going to faint."</p>
+
+<p>The little bee felt giddy, and after flying round and round dizzily for
+a few minutes it fell and dropped right on to King Solomon's nose.
+Immediately the King awoke with such a start that the little bee was
+frightened almost out of its wits and flew straight back to the hive.</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon sat up and looked round to see what it was that had
+awakened him so rudely. He felt a strange pain at the tip of his nose.
+He rubbed it with his royal forefinger, but the pain increased.</p>
+
+<p>Attendants came rushing towards him and asked him what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have been stung on the nose by a bee," said the King angrily.
+"Send for the Lord High Physician and the Keeper of the Court Plaister
+immediately. I cannot have a blister on the tip of my nose. To-morrow I
+am to be visited by the Queen of Sheba, and it will not do to have a
+swollen nose tied up in a sling."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Lord High Physician came with his many assistants, each carrying a
+box of ointment, or lint, or some other preparation which might be
+required. King Solomon's nose, and especially the tip of it, was
+examined most carefully through a microscope.</p>
+
+<p>"It is almost nothing," said the Lord High Physician reassuringly. "It
+is just a tiny sting from a very little bee which did not leave its
+sting in the wound. It will be healed in an hour or two and the Queen of
+Sheba will not be able to notice that anything at all is the matter
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"But meanwhile it smarts," said King Solomon. "I am seriously annoyed
+with the little bee. How dared it sting me, King Solomon, monarch of all
+living things on earth, in the air and in the waters. Knows it not that
+I am its Royal Master to whom all homage and respect is due?"</p>
+
+<p>The pain soon ceased, but His Majesty did not like the smell of the
+greasy ointment which was put on his nose, and he determined that the
+bee should be brought before him for trial.</p>
+
+<p>"Place the impudent little bee under arrest at once," he commanded, "and
+bring it before me so that I may hear what it has to say."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I know it not," returned the Lord High Chamberlain, to whom the
+command was given.</p>
+
+<p>"Then summon the Queen bee before me in an hour and bid her bring the
+culprit," answered the monarch. "Tell her that I shall hold all the bees
+guilty until the saucy little offender is produced before me."</p>
+
+<p>The order was carried to the hive by one of the butterflies in
+attendance on the King and spread consternation among the bees. Such a
+buzzing there was that the butterfly said:</p>
+
+<p>"Stop making that noise. If the King hears you, it will only make
+matters worse."</p>
+
+<p>The Queen bee promised to obey King Solomon's command, and in an hour
+she made her appearance in state before the great throne. Slowly and
+with much pomp, the Queen bee made her way to King Solomon. She was the
+largest of the bees and was escorted by a bodyguard of twelve female
+bees who cleared the way before her, walking backwards and bowing
+constantly with their faces to her.</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon was surrounded by all his Court which included living
+beings, fairies, demons, spirits, goblins, animals, birds and insects.
+All raised their voices in a loud hurrah when His Majesty took his seat
+on the Throne, and a very strange noise the Court made.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> The lions
+roared, the serpents hissed, the birds chirped, the fairies sang and the
+demons howled. The goblins that had no voices could only grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" cried a herald. "The Queen bee is requested to stand forth."</p>
+
+<p>Still attended by her twelve guards, the Queen bee approached the foot
+of the Throne and made obeisance to King Solomon.</p>
+
+<p>"I, thy slave, the Queen bee," she buzzed, "am here at thy bidding,
+mighty ruler, great and wise. Command and thou shalt be obeyed."</p>
+
+<p>"It is well," replied Solomon. "Hast thou brought with thee the culprit,
+the bee that did dare to attack my nose with its sting?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have, your Majesty," answered the Queen bee. "It is a young bee that
+this day did leave the hive for the first time. It has confessed to me.
+It did not attack your Majesty wilfully, but by accident, owing to
+giddiness caused by the heat, and it could not have injured your Majesty
+seriously, because it left not its sting in the wound. Be merciful,
+gracious King."</p>
+
+<p>"Fear not my judgment," said the King. "Bid the bee stand forth."</p>
+
+<p>Tremblingly, the little bee stood at the foot of the Throne and bowed
+three times to King Solomon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Knowest thou not," said the King, "that I am thy royal master whose
+person must be held sacred by all living things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, gracious Majesty," buzzed the bee. "Thy slave is aware of this. It
+was but an accident, and it is the nature of thy slave, the bee, who is
+in duty bound to obey thy laws, to thrust forth its sting when in
+danger. I thought I was in danger when I fell."</p>
+
+<p>"So was I, for I was beneath you," returned King Solomon.</p>
+
+<p>"Punish me not," pleaded the bee. "I am but one of your Majesty's
+smallest and humblest slaves, but even I may be of service to your
+Majesty some day."</p>
+
+<p>These words from the little bee made the whole Court laugh. Even the
+goblins which could not speak grinned from ear to ear and rolled their
+big eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" commanded the King sternly. "There is naught to laugh at in
+the bee's answer. It pleases me well. Go, thou art free. Some day I may
+need thee."</p>
+
+<p>The little bee bowed its head three times before the King and flew away,
+buzzing happily.</p>
+
+<p>Next day it kept quite close to the Palace.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see the procession when the Queen of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> Sheba arrives," it
+said, "and I also must be near the King in case His Majesty may want
+me."</p>
+
+<p>In great state, the beautiful Queen of Sheba, followed by hundreds of
+handsomely robed attendants, approached King Solomon who was seated on
+his Throne, surrounded by all his Court.</p>
+
+<p>"Great and mighty King of Israel," she said, curtseying low, "I have
+heard of thy great wisdom and would fain put it to the test. Hitherto
+all questions put to thee hast thou answered without difficulty. But I
+have sworn to puzzle thy wondrous wisdom with my woman's wit. Be
+heedful."</p>
+
+<p>"Beauteous Queen of Sheba," returned King Solomon, rising and bowing in
+return to her curtsey, "thou art as witty as thou art fair, and if thou
+art successful in puzzling me, thy triumph shall be duly rewarded. I
+will load thee with rich presents and proclaim thy wit and wisdom to the
+whole world."</p>
+
+<p>"I accept thy challenge," replied the Queen, "and at once."</p>
+
+<p>Behind Her Majesty stood two beautiful girl attendants, each holding a
+bouquet of flowers. The Queen of Sheba took the flowers, and holding a
+bouquet in each hand, said to King Solomon:</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, thou who art the wisest man on earth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> which of these bunches
+of flowers is real and which artificial."</p>
+
+<p>"They are both beautiful and their fragrance delicious in the extreme,"
+replied King Solomon.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said the Queen, "but only one bunch has fragrance. Which is it?"</p>
+
+<p>King Solomon looked at the flowers. Both bunches looked exactly alike.
+From where he sat, it was impossible to detect any difference. He did
+not answer at once, and he knit his brows as if perplexed. The courtiers
+also looked troubled. Never before had they seen the King hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it impossible for your Majesty to answer the question?" the Queen
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Solomon shook his head and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Never yet has a problem baffled me," he said. "Your Majesty shall be
+answered, and correctly."</p>
+
+<p>"And at once," said the Queen of Sheba imperiously.</p>
+
+<p>"So be it," answered King Solomon, gazing thoughtfully round and raising
+his magic scepter.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately he heard what no one else did, the faint buzzing of the tiny
+wings of the little bee which had settled on one of the window panes of
+the Palace.</p>
+
+<p>"Bid that window be opened," he commanded, pointing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> to it with his
+scepter, "and let the bee enter to obey my wish."</p>
+
+<p>The window was promptly opened, and in flew the little bee. Straight
+towards the Queen of Sheba it flew, and now its buzzing could be heard
+by all the courtiers, who eagerly watched its flight through the air.
+Without any hesitation, it settled on the bouquet in the Queen's left
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast my answer, fair Queen of Sheba," said King Solomon, rising,
+"given to thee by one of the tiniest of my subjects. It has settled on
+the flowers that are natural. The bouquet in your right hand is made by
+human hands."</p>
+
+<p>The whole Court applauded the monarch's wisdom in bidding the little bee
+help him out of his difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Majesty is indeed the wisest man on earth," said the Queen.</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, my little friend," said the King to the bee, and it flew away,
+buzzing merrily.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span><br/><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;">
+<img src="images/24s-107.jpg" width="376" height="450" alt="THE WELL OF THE WORLD&#39;S END" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE WELL OF THE WORLD&#39;S END</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="THE_WELL_OF_THE_WORLDS_END9" id="THE_WELL_OF_THE_WORLDS_END9"></a>THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>ONCE upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn't in my
+time, nor in your time, nor in any one else's time, there was a girl
+whose mother had died, and her father married again. And her stepmother
+hated her because she was more beautiful than herself, and she was very
+cruel to her. She used to make her do all the servant's work, and never
+let her have any peace.</p>
+
+<p>At last, one day, the stepmother thought to get rid of her altogether;
+so she handed her a sieve and said to her: "Go, fill it at the Well of
+the World's End and bring it home to me full, or woe betide you." For
+she thought she would never be able to find the Well of the World's End,
+and, if she did, how could she bring home a sieve full of water?</p>
+
+<p>Well, the girl started off, and asked every one she met to tell her
+where was the Well of the World's End. But nobody knew, and she didn't
+know what to do, when a queer little old woman, all bent double, told
+her where it was, and how she could get to it. So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> she did what the old
+woman told her, and at last arrived at the Well of the World's End. But
+when she dipped the sieve in the cold, cold water, it all ran out again.
+She tried and she tried again, but every time it was the same; and at
+last she sat down and cried as if her heart would break.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she heard a croaking voice, and she looked up and saw a great
+frog with goggle eyes looking at her and speaking to her.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, dearie?" it said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said, "my stepmother has sent me all this long
+way to fill this sieve with water from the Well of the World's End, and
+I can't fill it no how at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the frog, "if you promise me to do whatever I bid you for a
+whole night long, I'll tell you how to fill it."</p>
+
+<p>So the girl agreed, and the frog said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Stop it with moss and daub it with clay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And then it will carry the water away";</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>and then it gave a hop, skip, and a jump, and went flop into the Well of
+the World's End.</p>
+
+<p>So the girl looked about for some moss, and lined the bottom of the
+sieve with it, and over that she put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> some clay, and then she dipped it
+once again into the Well of the World's End; and this time the water
+didn't run out, and she turned to go away.</p>
+
+<p>Just then the frog popped up its head out of the Well of the World's
+End, and said: "Remember your promise."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the girl; for, thought she, "what harm can a frog do
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>So she went back to her stepmother, and brought the sieve full of water
+from the Well of the World's End. The stepmother was angry as angry, but
+she said nothing at all.</p>
+
+<p>That very evening they heard something tap-tapping at the door low down,
+and a voice cried out:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Open the door, my hinny, my heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Open the door, my own darling;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mind you the words that you and I spoke,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Down in the meadow, at the World's End Well."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever can that be?" cried out the stepmother, and the girl had to
+tell her all about it, and what she had promised the frog.</p>
+
+<p>"Girls must keep their promises," said the stepmother. "Go and open the
+door this instant." For she was glad the girl would have to obey a nasty
+frog.</p>
+
+<p>So the girl went and opened the door, and there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> was the frog from the
+Well of the World's End. And it hopped, and it hopped, and it jumped,
+till it reached the girl, and then it said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Lift me to your knee, my hinny, my heart;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lift me to your knee, my own darling;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remember the words you and I spake,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Down in the meadow by the World's End Well."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But the girl didn't like to, till her stepmother said: "Lift it up this
+instant, you hussy! Girls must keep their promises!"</p>
+
+<p>So at last she lifted the frog up on to her lap, and it lay there for a
+time, till at last it said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Give me some supper, my hinny, my heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Give me some supper, my darling;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remember the words you and I spake,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the meadow, by the Well of the World's End."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Well, she didn't mind doing that, so she got it a bowl of milk and
+bread, and fed it well. And when the frog had finished, it said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Go with me to bed, my hinny, my heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Go with me to bed, my own darling;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mind you the words you spake to me,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Down by the cold well, so weary."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But that the girl wouldn't do, till her stepmother said: "Do what you
+promised, girl; girls must keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> their promises. Do what you're bid, or
+out you go, you and your froggie."</p>
+
+<p>So the girl took the frog with her to bed, and kept it as far away from
+her as she could. Well, just as the day was beginning to break what
+should the frog say but:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Chop off my head, my own darling;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remember the promise you made to me,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Down by the cold well so weary."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>At first the girl wouldn't, for she thought of what the frog had done
+for her at the Well of the World's End. But when the frog said the words
+over again, she went and took an ax and chopped off its head, and lo!
+and behold, there stood before her a handsome young prince, who told her
+that he had been enchanted by a wicked magician, and he could never be
+unspelled till some girl would do his bidding for a whole night, and
+chop off his head at the end of it.</p>
+
+<p>The stepmother was surprised indeed when she found the young prince
+instead of the nasty frog, and she wasn't best pleased, you may be sure,
+when the prince told her that he was going to marry her stepdaughter
+because she had unspelled him. But married they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> were, and went away to
+live in the castle of the king, his father, and all the stepmother had
+to console her was, that it was all through her that her stepdaughter
+was married to a prince.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;">
+<img src="images/24s-115.jpg" width="376" height="450" alt="WINGS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WINGS</span>
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="WINGS10" id="WINGS10"></a>WINGS<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>A PEASANT girl was feeding geese, and she wept. The farmer's daughter
+came by and asked, "What are you blubbering about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't got any wings," cried the peasant girl. "Oh, I wish I could
+grow some wings."</p>
+
+<p>"You stupid!" said the farmer's daughter. "Of course you haven't got
+wings. What do you want wings for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to fly up into the sky and sing my little songs there," answered
+the little peasant girl.</p>
+
+<p>Then the farmer's daughter was angry, and said again, "You stupid! How
+can you ever expect to grow wings? Your father's only a farm-laborer.
+They might grow on me, but not on you."</p>
+
+<p>When the farmer's daughter had said that, she went away to the well,
+sprinkled some water on her shoulders, and stood out among the
+vegetables in the garden, waiting for her wings to sprout. She really
+believed the sun would bring them out quite soon.</p>
+
+<p>But in a little while a merchant's daughter came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> along the road and
+called out to the girl who was trying to grow wings in the garden, "What
+are you doing standing out there, red face?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am growing wings," said the farmer's daughter. "I want to fly."</p>
+
+<p>Then the merchant's daughter laughed loudly, and cried out, "You stupid
+farm-girl; if you had wings they would only be a weight on your back."</p>
+
+<p>The merchant's daughter thought she knew who was most likely to grow
+wings. And when she went back to the town where she lived she bought
+some olive-oil and rubbed it on her shoulders, and went out into the
+garden and waited for her wings to grow.</p>
+
+<p>By and by a young lady of the Court came along, and said to her, "What
+are you doing out there, my child?"</p>
+
+<p>When the tradesman's daughter said that she was growing wings, the young
+lady's face flushed and she looked quite vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not for you to do," she said. "It is only real ladies who can
+grow wings."</p>
+
+<p>And she went on home, and when she got indoors she filled a tub with
+milk and bathed herself in it, and then went into her garden and stood
+in the sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> and waited for her wings to come out. Presently a princess
+passed by the garden, and when she saw the young lady standing there she
+sent a servant to inquire what she was doing. The servant came back and
+told her that as the young lady had wanted to be able to fly she had
+bathed herself in milk and was waiting for her wings to grow.</p>
+
+<p>The princess laughed scornfully and exclaimed, "What a foolish girl!
+She's giving herself trouble for nothing. No one who is not a princess
+can ever grow wings."</p>
+
+<p>The princess turned the matter over in her mind, and when she arrived at
+her father's palace she went into her chamber, anointed herself with
+sweet-smelling perfumes, and then went down into the palace garden to
+wait for her wings to come.</p>
+
+<p>Very soon all the young girls in the country round about went out into
+their gardens and stood among the vegetables so that they might get
+wings.</p>
+
+<p>The Fairy of the Wings heard about this strange happening and she flew
+down to earth, and, looking at the waiting girls, she said, "If I give
+you all wings and let you all go flying into the sky, who will want to
+stay at home to cook the porridge and look after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> the children? I had
+better give wings only to one of you, namely, to her who wanted them
+first of all."</p>
+
+<p>So wings grew from the little peasant girl's shoulders, and she was able
+to fly up into the sky and sing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+<h2><br /><br /><a name="CHRISTMAS_STORIES" id="CHRISTMAS_STORIES"></a>CHRISTMAS STORIES<br /><br /><br /></h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 369px;">
+<img src="images/24s-123.jpg" width="369" height="450" alt="THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_CHRISTMAS_CUCKOO11" id="THE_CHRISTMAS_CUCKOO11"></a>THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IN an old time, long ago, when the fairies were in the world, there
+lived a little girl so uncommonly fair and pleasant of look, that they
+called her Snowflower. This girl was good as well as pretty. No one had
+ever seen her frown or heard her say a cross word, and young and old
+were glad when they saw her coming.</p>
+
+<p>Snowflower had no relation in the world but a very old grandmother. . . .
+Every evening, when the fire was heaped with the sticks she had
+gathered till it blazed and crackled up the cottage chimney, Dame
+Frostyface set aside her wheel, and told her a new story. Often did the
+little girl wonder where her grandmother had gathered so many stories,
+but she soon learned that. One sunny morning, at the time of the
+swallows' coming, the dame rose up, put on the gray hood and mantle in
+which she carried her yarn to the fairs, and said, "My child, I am going
+a long journey to visit an aunt of mine, who lives far in the north
+country. I cannot take you with me, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> my aunt is the crossest
+woman alive, and never liked young people: but the hens will lay eggs
+for you; there is barley-meal in the barrel; and, as you have been a
+good girl, I'll tell you what to do when you feel lonely. Lay your head
+gently down on the cushion of the arm-chair, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, tell me a story.' It was made by a cunning fairy, who lived
+in the forest when I was young, and she gave it to me because she knew
+nobody could keep what they got hold of better. Remember, you must never
+ask a story more than once in the day; and if there be any occasion to
+travel, you have only to seat yourself in it, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, take me such a way.' It will carry you wherever you wish;
+but mind to oil the wheels before you set out, for I have sat on it
+these forty years in that same corner."</p>
+
+<p>Having said this, Dame Frostyface set forth to see her aunt in the north
+country. Snowflower gathered firing and looked after the hens and cat as
+usual. She baked herself a cake or two of the barley-meal; but when the
+evening fell the cottage looked lonely. Then Snowflower remembered her
+grandmother's words, and, laying her head gently down, she said, "Chair
+of my grandmother, tell me a story."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Scarce were the words spoken, when a clear voice from under the velvet
+cushion . . . said: <i>"Listen to the story of the Christmas Cuckoo!"</i></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the north
+country, a certain village; all its inhabitants were poor, for their
+fields were barren, and they had little trade, but the poorest of them
+all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's
+craft, and had but one stall between them. It was a hut built of clay
+and wattles. The door was low and always open, for there was no window.
+The roof did not entirely keep out the rain, and the only thing
+comfortable about it was a wide hearth, for which the brothers could
+never find wood enough to make a sufficient fire. There they worked in
+most brotherly friendship, though with little encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>"The people of that village were not extravagant in shoes, and better
+cobblers than Scrub and Spare might be found. Spiteful people said there
+were no shoes so bad that they would not be worse for their mending.
+Nevertheless Scrub and Spare managed to live between their own trade, a
+small barley field, and a cottage garden, till one unlucky day when a
+new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in the capital city of
+the kingdom, and, by his own account, cobbled for the queen and the
+princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he set up his stall
+in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon found out that
+one patch of his would wear two of the brothers'. In short, all the
+mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new cobbler. The season
+had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and the cabbages
+never half closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor that winter,
+and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but a barley loaf,
+a piece of rusty bacon, and some small beer of their own brewing. Worse
+than that, the snow was very deep, and they could get no firewood. Their
+hut stood at the end of the village, beyond it spread the bleak moor,
+now all white and silent; but that moor had once been a forest, great
+roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from the soil
+and laid bare by the winds and rains&mdash;one of these, a rough gnarled log,
+lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and Spare said to
+his brother:</p>
+
+<p>"'Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?
+Let us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'No,' said Scrub; 'it's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,
+that root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Hard or not we must have a fire,' replied Spare. 'Come, brother, help
+me in with it. Poor as we are, there is nobody in the village will have
+such a yule log as ours.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub liked a little grandeur, and in hopes of having a fine yule log,
+both brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between
+pulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and
+beginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers. In high glee, the
+cobblers sat down to their beer and bacon. The door was shut, for there
+was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside; but the hut, strewn
+with fir boughs, and ornamented with holly, looked cheerful as the ruddy
+blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"'Long life and good fortune to ourselves, brother!' said Spare. 'I hope
+you will drink that toast, and may we never have a worse fire on
+Christmas&mdash;but what is that?'</p>
+
+<p>"Spare set down the drinking-horn, and the brothers listened astonished,
+for out of the blazing root they heard, 'Cuckoo! cuckoo!' as plain as
+ever the spring-bird's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> voice came over the moor on a May morning.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is something bad,' said Scrub, terribly frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"'May be not,' said Spare; and out of the deep hole at the side which
+the fire had not reached flew a large gray cuckoo, and lit on the table
+before them. Much as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still
+more so when it said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Good gentlemen, what season is this?'</p>
+
+<p>"'It's Christmas,' said Spare.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then a merry Christmas to you!' said the cuckoo. 'I went to sleep in
+the hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till
+the heat of your fire made me think it was summer again; but now since
+you have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring
+comes around&mdash;I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my
+travels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your
+trouble.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Stay, and welcome,' said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were
+something bad or not; 'I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch. But
+you must be hungry after that long sleep?&mdash;here is a slice of barley
+bread. Come help us to keep Christmas!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from the brown jug, for he
+would take no beer, and flew into a snug hole which Spare scooped for
+him in the thatch of the hut.</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and
+the days passed he forgot his fears. So the snow melted, the heavy rains
+came, the cold grew less, the days lengthened, and one sunny morning the
+brothers were awakened by the cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them
+know the spring had come.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now I'm going on my travels,' said the bird, 'over the world to tell
+men of the spring. There is no country where trees bud or flowers bloom,
+that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me another slice
+of barley bread to keep me on my journey, and tell me what present I
+shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a
+slice, their store of barley-meal being low; but his mind was occupied
+with what present would be most prudent to ask: at length a lucky
+thought struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good master cuckoo,' said he, 'if a great traveler who sees all the
+world like you, could know of any place where diamonds or pearls were to
+be found, one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> of a tolerable size brought in your beak would help such
+poor men as my brother and I to provide something better than barley
+bread for your next entertainment.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I know nothing of diamonds or pearls,' said the cuckoo; 'they are in
+the hearts of rocks and the sands of rivers. My knowledge is only of
+that which grows on the earth. But there are two trees hard by the well
+that lies at the world's end&mdash;one of them is called the golden tree, for
+its leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they fall into the well
+with a sound like scattered coin and I know not what becomes of them. As
+for the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise,
+and some the merry tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one of
+them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make
+themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree,' cried Spare.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, brother, don't be a fool!' said Scrub. 'Think of the leaves of
+beaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!'</p>
+
+<p>"Before another word could be spoken, the cuckoo had flown out of the
+open door, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow. The
+brothers were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> poorer than ever that year; nobody would send them a
+single shoe to mend. The new cobbler said, in scorn, they should come to
+be his apprentices; and Scrub and Spare would have left the village but
+for their barley field, their cabbage garden, and a certain maid called
+Fairfeather, whom both the cobblers had courted for seven years without
+even knowing which she meant to favor.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes Fairfeather seemed inclined to Scrub, sometimes she smiled on
+Spare; but the brothers never disputed for that. They sowed their
+barley, planted their cabbage, and now that their trade was gone, worked
+in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living. So the
+seasons came and passed: spring, summer, harvest, and winter followed
+each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of the
+latter, Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that Fairfeather
+thought them beneath her notice. Old neighbors forgot to invite them to
+wedding feasts or merrymaking; and they thought the cuckoo had forgotten
+them too, when at daybreak, on the first of April, they heard a hard
+beak knocking at their door, and a voice crying:</p>
+
+<p>"'Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents.'</p>
+
+<p>"Spare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> carrying on one
+side of his bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the north
+country; and in the other, one like that of the common laurel, only it
+had a fresher green.</p>
+
+<p>"'Here,' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, 'it
+is a long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley
+bread, for I must tell the north country that the spring has come.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut
+from their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands
+before, and he could not help exulting over his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"'See the wisdom of my choice!' he said, holding up the large leaf of
+gold. 'As for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge. I wonder a
+sensible bird would carry the like so far.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Good master cobbler,' cried the cuckoo, finishing the slice, 'your
+conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother be
+disappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for
+your hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of
+you whichever leaf you desire.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Darling cuckoo!' cried Scrub, 'bring me a golden one;' and Spare,
+looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it were a
+crown-jewel, said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Be sure to bring me one from the merry tree,' and away flew the
+cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"'This is the Feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday,'
+said Scrub. 'Did ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting
+rich! Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and
+poverty!' So he went on, but Spare laughed at him, and answered with
+quaint old proverbs concerning the cares that come with gold, till
+Scrub, at length getting angry, vowed his brother was not fit to live
+with a respectable man; and, taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden
+leaf, he left the wattle hut, and went to tell the villagers.</p>
+
+<p>"They were astonished at the folly of Spare and charmed with Scrub's
+good sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told
+that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring. The new cobbler
+immediately took him into partnership; the greatest people sent him
+their shoes to mend; Fairfeather smiled graciously upon him, and in the
+course of that summer they were married, with a grand wedding feast, at
+which the whole village danced, except Spare, who was not invited,
+because the bride could not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother
+thought him a disgrace to the family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, all who heard the story concluded that Spare must be mad, and
+nobody would associate with him but a lame tinker, a beggar-boy, and a
+poor woman reputed to be a witch because she was old and ugly. As for
+Scrub, he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close by
+that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to
+everybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat for holidays, and a fat
+goose for dinner every wedding-day. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown
+and fine blue ribands; but neither she nor Scrub were content, for to
+buy this grandeur the golden leaf had to be broken and parted with piece
+by piece, so the last morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with
+another.</p>
+
+<p>"Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage garden. (Scrub
+had got the barley field because he was the eldest.) Every day his coat
+grew more ragged, and the hut more weatherbeaten; but people remarked
+that he never looked sad nor sour; and the wonder was, that from the
+time they began to keep his company, the tinker grew kinder to the poor
+ass with which he traveled the country, the beggar-boy kept out of
+mischief, and the old woman was never cross to her cat or angry with the
+children.</p>
+
+<p>"Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> their doors with the
+golden leaf to Scrub and the green to Spare. Fairfeather would have
+entertained him nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some
+notion of persuading him to bring two gold leaves instead of one; but
+the cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying he was not
+fit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where he slept so
+snugly from Christmas till spring.</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub spent the golden leaves, and Spare kept the merry ones; and I
+know not how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great
+lord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood
+on the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep
+moat. All the country, as far as one could see from the highest turret,
+belonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and
+would not have come then, only he was melancholy. The cause of his grief
+was that he had been prime-minister at court, and in high favor, till
+somebody told the crown-prince that he had spoken disrespectfully
+concerning the turning out of his royal highness's toes, and the king
+that he did not lay on taxes enough, whereon the north country lord was
+turned out of office, and banished to his own estate. There he lived for
+some weeks in very bad temper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> The servants said nothing would please
+him, and the villagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise
+their rents; but one day in the harvest time his lordship chanced to
+meet Spare gathering water cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into
+talk with the cobbler.</p>
+
+<p>"How it was nobody could tell, but from the hour of that discourse the
+great lord cast away his melancholy: he forgot his lost office and his
+court enemies, the king's taxes and the crown-prince's toes, and went
+about with a noble train hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall,
+where all travelers were entertained and all the poor were welcome. This
+strange story spread through the north country, and great company came
+to the cobbler's hut&mdash;rich men who had lost their money, poor men who
+had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had gone
+out of fashion, all came to talk with Spare, and whatever their troubles
+had been, all went home merry. The rich gave him presents, the poor gave
+him thanks. Spare's coat ceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his
+cabbage, and the villagers began to think there was some sense in him.</p>
+
+<p>"By this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.
+There were a great many discontented people there besides the king, who
+had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> lately fallen into ill-humor because a neighboring princess, with
+seven islands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son. So a royal
+messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond ring, and a
+command that he should repair to court immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"'To-morrow is the first of April,' said Spare, 'and I will go with you
+two hours after sunrise.'</p>
+
+<p>"The messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at
+sunrise with the merry leaf.</p>
+
+<p>"'Court is a fine place,' he said when the cobbler told him he was
+going; 'but I cannot come there, they would lay snares and catch me; so
+be careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell
+slice of barley bread."</p>
+
+<p>"Spare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of his
+company; but he gave him a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart
+in former times, it was so thick and large; and having sewed up the
+leaves in the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the
+messenger on his way to court.</p>
+
+<p>"His coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the
+king could see in such a common-looking man; but scarce had his majesty
+conversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands
+were forgotten, and orders given that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> a feast for all comers should be
+spread in the banquet hall. The princes of the blood, the great lords
+and ladies, ministers of state, and judges of the land, after that
+discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the lighter grew their
+hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at court. The lords
+forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes and
+ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no favor.</p>
+
+<p>"As for Spare, he had a Chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat
+at the king's table; one sent him rich robes and another costly jewels;
+but in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,
+which the palace servants thought remarkably mean. One day the king's
+attention being drawn to it by the chief page, his majesty inquired why
+Spare didn't give it to a beggar. But the cobbler answered:</p>
+
+<p>"'High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and
+velvet came&mdash;I find it easier to wear than the court cut; moreover, it
+serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday
+garment.'</p>
+
+<p>"The king thought this a wise speech, and commanded that no one should
+find fault with the leathern doublet. So things went, till tidings of
+his brother's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> good fortune reached Scrub in the moorland cottage on
+another first of April, when the cuckoo came with two golden leaves,
+because he had none to carry for Spare.</p>
+
+<p>"'Think of that!' said Fairfeather. 'Here we are spending our lives in
+this humdrum place, and Spare making his fortune at court with two or
+three paltry green leaves! What would they say to our golden ones? Let
+us pack up and make our way to the king's palace; I'm sure he will make
+you a lord and me a lady of honor, not to speak of all the fine clothes
+and presents we shall have.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub thought this excellent reasoning, and their packing up began: but
+it was soon found that the cottage contained few things fit for carrying
+to court. Fairfeather could not think of her wooden bowls, spoons, and
+trenchers being seen there. Scrub considered his lasts and awls better
+left behind, as without them, he concluded, no one would suspect him of
+being a cobbler. So putting on their holiday clothes, Fairfeather took
+her looking-glass and Scrub his drinking horn, which happened to have a
+very thin rim of silver, and each carrying a golden leaf carefully
+wrapped up that none might see it till they reached the palace, the pair
+set out in great expectation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How far Scrub and Fairfeather journeyed I cannot say, but when the sun
+was high and warm at noon, they came into a wood both tired and hungry.</p>
+
+<p>"'If I had known it was so far to court,' said Scrub, 'I would have
+brought the end of that barley loaf which we left in the cupboard.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Husband,' said Fairfeather, 'you shouldn't have such mean thoughts:
+how could one eat barley bread on the way to a palace? Let us rest
+ourselves under this tree, and look at our golden leaves to see if they
+are safe.' In looking at the leaves, and talking of their fine
+prospects, Scrub and Fairfeather did not perceive that a very thin old
+woman had slipped from behind the tree, with a long staff in her hand
+and a great wallet by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"'Noble lord and lady,' she said, 'for I know ye are such by your
+voices, though my eyes are dim and my hearing none of the sharpest, will
+ye condescend to tell me where I may find some water to mix a bottle of
+mead which I carry in my wallet, because it is too strong for me?'</p>
+
+<p>"As the old woman spoke, she pulled out a large wooden bottle such as
+shepherds used in the ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together,
+and having a small wooden cup hanging from its handle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Perhaps ye will do me the favor to taste,' she said. 'It is only made
+of the best honey. I have also cream cheese, and a wheaten loaf here, if
+such honorable persons as you would eat the like.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub and Fairfeather became very condescending after this speech. They
+were now sure that there must be some appearance of nobility about them;
+besides, they were very hungry, and having hastily wrapped up the golden
+leaves, they assured the old woman they were not at all proud,
+notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left behind them in the
+north country, and would willingly help to lighten the wallet. The old
+woman could scarcely be persuaded to sit down for pure humility, but at
+length she did, and before the wallet was half empty, Scrub and
+Fairfeather firmly believed that there must be something remarkably
+noble-looking about them. This was not entirely owing to her ingenious
+discourse. The old woman was a wood-witch; her name was Buttertongue;
+and all her time was spent in making mead, which, being boiled with
+curious herbs and spells, had the power of making all who drank it fall
+asleep and dream with their eyes open. She had two dwarfs of sons; one
+was named Spy, and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother went they
+were not far behind; and whoever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> tasted her mead was sure to be robbed
+by the dwarfs.</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against the old tree. The cobbler had
+a lump of cheese in his hand; his wife held fast a hunk of bread. Their
+eyes and mouths were both open, but they were dreaming of great grandeur
+at court, when the old woman raised her shrill voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'What ho, my sons! come here and carry home the harvest.'</p>
+
+<p>"No sooner had she spoken, than the two little dwarfs darted out of the
+neighboring thicket.</p>
+
+<p>"'Idle boys!' cried the mother, 'what have ye done to-day to help our
+living?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I have been to the city,' said Spy, 'and could see nothing. These are
+hard times for us&mdash;everybody minds their business so contentedly since
+that cobbler came; but here is a leathern doublet which his page threw
+out of the window; it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was
+not idle.' And he tossed down Spare's doublet, with the merry leaves in
+it, which he had carried like a bundle on his little back.</p>
+
+<p>"To explain how Spy came by it, I must tell you that the forest was not
+far from the great city where Spare lived in such esteem. All things had
+gone well with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> cobbler till the king thought that it was quite
+unbecoming to see such a worthy man without a servant. His majesty,
+therefore, to let all men understand his royal favor toward Spare,
+appointed one of his own pages to wait upon him. The name of this youth
+was Tinseltoes, and, though he was the seventh of the king's pages,
+nobody in all the court had grander notions. Nothing could please him
+that had not gold or silver about it, and his grandmother feared he
+would hang himself for being appointed page to a cobbler. As for Spare,
+if anything could have troubled him, this token of his majesty's
+kindness would have done it.</p>
+
+<p>"The honest man had been so used to serve himself that the page was
+always in the way, but his merry leaves came to his assistance; and, to
+the great surprise of his grandmother, Tinseltoes took wonderfully to
+the new service. Some said it was because Spare gave him nothing to do
+but play at bowls all day on the palace-green. Yet one thing grieved the
+heart of Tinseltoes, and that was his master's leathern doublet, but for
+it he was persuaded people would never remember that Spare had been a
+cobbler, and the page took a great deal of pains to let him see how
+unfashionable it was at court; but Spare answered Tinseltoes as he had
+done the king, and at last, finding nothing better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> would do, the page
+got up one fine morning earlier than his master, and tossed the leathern
+doublet out of the back window into a certain lane where Spy found it,
+and brought it to his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"'That nasty thing!' said the old woman; 'where is the good in it?'</p>
+
+<p>"By this time, Pounce had taken everything of value from Scrub and
+Fairfeather&mdash;the looking-glass, the silver-rimmed horn, the husband's
+scarlet coat, the wife's gay mantle, and, above all, the golden leaves,
+which so rejoiced old Buttertongue and her sons, that they threw the
+leathern doublet over the sleeping cobbler for a jest, and went off to
+their hut in the heart of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>"The sun was going down when Scrub and Fairfeather awoke from dreaming
+that they had been made a lord and a lady, and sat clothed in silk and
+velvet, feasting with the king in his palace-hall. It was a great
+disappointment to find their golden leaves and all their best things
+gone. Scrub tore his hair, and vowed to take the old woman's life, while
+Fairfeather lamented sore; but Scrub, feeling cold for want of his coat,
+put on the leathern doublet without asking or caring whence it came.</p>
+
+<p>"Scarcely was it buttoned on when a change came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> over him; he addressed
+such merry discourse to Fairfeather, that, instead of lamentations, she
+made the wood ring with laughter. Both busied themselves in getting up a
+hut of boughs, in which Scrub kindled a fire with a flint and steel,
+which, together with his pipe, he had brought unknown to Fairfeather,
+who had told him the like was never heard of at court. Then they found a
+pheasant's nest at the root of an old oak, made a meal of roasted eggs,
+and went to sleep on a heap of long green grass which they had gathered,
+with nightingales singing all night long in the old trees about them. So
+it happened that Scrub and Fairfeather stayed day after day in the
+forest, making their hut larger and more comfortable against the winter,
+living on wild birds' eggs and berries, and never thinking of their lost
+golden leaves, or their journey to court.</p>
+
+<p>"In the meantime Spare had got up and missed his doublet. Tinseltoes, of
+course, said he knew nothing about it. The whole palace was searched,
+and every servant questioned, till all the court wondered why such a
+fuss was made about an old leathern doublet. That very day things came
+back to their old fashion. Quarrels began among the lords, and
+jealousies among the ladies. The king said his subjects did not pay him
+half enough taxes, the queen wanted more jewels,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> the servants took to
+their old bickerings and got up some new ones. Spare found himself
+getting wonderfully dull, and very much out of place: nobles began to
+ask what business a cobbler had at the king's table, and his majesty
+ordered the palace chronicles to be searched for a precedent. The
+cobbler was too wise to tell all he had lost with that doublet, but
+being by this time somewhat familiar with court customs, he proclaimed a
+reward of fifty gold pieces to any who would bring him news concerning
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Scarcely was this made known in the city, when the gates and outer
+courts of the palace were filled by men, women, and children, some
+bringing leathern doublets of every cut and color; some with tales of
+what they had heard and seen in their walks about the neighborhood; and
+so much news concerning all sorts of great people came out of these
+stories, that lords and ladies ran to the king with complaints of Spare
+as a speaker of slander; and his majesty, being now satisfied that there
+was no example in all the palace records of such a retainer, issued a
+decree banishing the cobbler for ever from court, and confiscating all
+his goods in favor of Tinseltoes.</p>
+
+<p>"That royal edict was scarcely published before the page was in full
+possession of his rich chamber, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> costly garments, and all the
+presents the courtiers had given him; while Spare, having no longer the
+fifty pieces of gold to give, was glad to make his escape out of the
+back window, for fear of the nobles, who vowed to be revenged on him,
+and the crowd, who were prepared to stone him for cheating them about
+his doublet.</p>
+
+<p>"The window from which Spare let himself down with a strong rope, was
+that from which Tinseltoes had tossed the doublet, and as the cobbler
+came down late in the twilight, a poor woodman, with a heavy load of
+fagots, stopped and stared at him in great astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"'What's the matter, friend?' said Spare. 'Did you never see a man
+coming down from a back window before?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why,' said the woodman, 'the last morning I passed here a leathern
+doublet came out of that very window, and I'll be bound you are the
+owner of it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'That I am, friend,' said the cobbler. 'Can you tell me which way that
+doublet went?'</p>
+
+<p>"'As I walked on,' said the woodman, 'a dwarf, called Spy, bundled it up
+and ran off to his mother in the forest.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Honest friend,' said Spare, taking off the last of his fine clothes (a
+grass-green mantle edged with gold),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> I'll give you this if you will
+follow the dwarf, and bring me back my doublet.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It would not be good to carry fagots in,' said the woodman. 'But if
+you want back your doublet, the road to the forest lies at the end of
+this lane,' and he trudged away.</p>
+
+<p>"Determined to find his doublet, and sure that neither crowd nor
+courtiers could catch him in the forest, Spare went on his way, and was
+soon among the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he see.
+Moreover, the night came on; the wood was dark and tangled, but here and
+there the moon shone through its alleys, the great owls flitted about,
+and the nightingales sang. So he went on, hoping to find some place of
+shelter. At last the red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket,
+led him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, as if there was
+nothing to fear, and within he saw his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a
+bed of grass, at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; while
+Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited rushes, sat roasting pheasants'
+eggs by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good evening, mistress,' said Spare, stepping in.</p>
+
+<p>"The blaze shone on him, but so changed was her brother-in-law with his
+court-life, that Fairfeather did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> not know him, and she answered far
+more courteously than was her wont.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good evening, master. Whence come ye so late? but speak low, for my
+good man has sorely tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep,
+as you see, before supper!'</p>
+
+<p>"'A good rest to him,' said Spare, perceiving he was not known. 'I come
+from the court for a day's hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Sit down and have a share of our supper,' said Fairfeather, 'I will
+put some more eggs in the ashes; and tell me the news of court&mdash;I used
+to think of it long ago when I was young and foolish.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Did you never go there?' said the cobbler. 'So fair a dame as you
+would make the ladies marvel.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You are pleased to flatter,' said Fairfeather; 'but my husband has a
+brother there, and we left our moorland village to try our fortune also.
+An old woman enticed us with fair words and strong drink at the entrance
+of this forest, where we fell asleep and dreamt of great things; but
+when we woke, everything had been robbed from us&mdash;my looking-glass, my
+scarlet cloak, my husband's Sunday coat; and, in place of all, the
+robbers left him that old leathern doublet, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> he has worn ever
+since, and never was so merry in all his life, though we live in this
+poor hut.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is a shabby doublet, that,' said Spare, taking up the garment, and
+seeing that it was his own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its
+lining. 'It would be good for hunting in, however&mdash;your husband would be
+glad to part with it, I dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak;'
+and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned on the doublet, much to
+Fairfeather's delight, who ran and shook Scrub, crying&mdash;"'Husband!
+husband! rise and see what a good bargain I have made.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub gave one closing snore, and muttered something about the root
+being hard; but he rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'Spare, is that really you? How did you like the court, and have you
+made your fortune?'</p>
+
+<p>"'That I have, brother,' said Spare, 'in getting back my own good
+leathern doublet. Come, let us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this
+night. In the morning we will return to our own old hut, at the end of
+the moorland village where the Christmas Cuckoo will come and bring us
+leaves.'</p>
+
+<p>"Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the morning they all returned, and
+found the old hut little the worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> for wear and weather. The neighbors
+came about them to ask the news of court, and see if they had made their
+fortune. Everybody was astonished to find the three poorer than ever,
+but somehow they liked to go back to the hut. Spare brought out the
+lasts and awls he had hidden in a corner; Scrub and he began their old
+trade, and the whole north country found out that there never were such
+cobblers.</p>
+
+<p>"They mended the shoes of lords and ladies as well as the common people;
+everybody was satisfied. Their custom increased from day to day, and all
+that were disappointed, discontented, or unlucky, came to the hut as in
+old times, before Spare went to court.</p>
+
+<p>"The rich brought them presents, the poor did them service. The hut
+itself changed, no one knew how. Flowering honeysuckle grew over its
+roof; red and white roses grew thick about its door. Moreover, the
+Christmas Cuckoo always came on the first of April, bringing three
+leaves of the merry tree&mdash;for Scrub and Fairfeather would have no more
+golden ones. So it was with them when I last heard the news of the north
+country."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;">
+<img src="images/24s-155.jpg" width="361" height="450" alt="THE EMPEROR&#39;S VISION" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE EMPEROR&#39;S VISION</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="THE_EMPERORS_VISION12" id="THE_EMPERORS_VISION12"></a>THE EMPEROR'S VISION<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IT happened at the time when Augustus was Emperor in Rome and Herod was
+King in Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that a very great and holy night sank down over the earth.
+It was the darkest night that any one had ever seen. One could have
+believed that the whole earth had fallen into a cellar-vault. It was
+impossible to distinguish water from land, and one could not find one's
+way on the most familiar road. And it couldn't be otherwise, for not a
+ray of light came from heaven. All the stars stayed at home in their own
+houses, and the fair moon held her face averted.</p>
+
+<p>The silence and the stillness were as profound as the darkness. The
+rivers stood still in their courses, the wind did not stir, and even the
+aspen leaves had ceased to quiver. Had any one walked along the
+sea-shore, he would have found that the waves no longer dashed upon the
+sands; and had one wandered in the desert, the sand would not have
+crunched under one's feet. Everything was as motionless as if turned to
+stone, so as not to disturb the holy night. The grass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> was afraid to
+grow, the dew could not fall, and the flowers dared not exhale their
+perfume.</p>
+
+<p>On this night the wild beasts did not seek their prey, the serpents did
+not sting, and the dogs did not bark. And what was even more glorious,
+inanimate things would have been unwilling to disturb the night's
+sanctity, by lending themselves to an evil deed. No false key could have
+picked a lock, and no knife could possibly have drawn a drop of blood.</p>
+
+<p>In Rome, during this very night, a small company of people came from the
+Emperor's palace at the Palatine and took the path across the Forum
+which led to the Capitol. During the day just ended the Senators had
+asked the Emperor if he had any objections to their erecting a temple to
+him on Rome's sacred hill. But Augustus had not immediately given his
+consent. He did not know if it would be agreeable to the gods that he
+should own a temple next to theirs, and he had replied that first he
+wished to ascertain their will in the matter by offering a nocturnal
+sacrifice to his genius. It was he who, accompanied by a few trusted
+friends, was on his way to perform this sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>Augustus let them carry him in his litter, for he was old, and it was an
+effort for him to climb the long stairs leading to the Capitol. He
+himself held the cage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> with the doves for the sacrifice. No priests or
+soldiers or senators accompanied him, only his nearest friends.
+Torch-bearers walked in front of him in order to light the way in the
+night darkness and behind him followed the slaves, who carried the
+tripod, the knives, the charcoal, the sacred fire, and all the other
+things needed for the sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>On the way the Emperor chatted gayly with his faithful followers, and
+therefore none of them noticed the infinite silence and stillness of the
+night. Only when they had reached the highest point of the Capitol Hill
+and the vacant spot upon which they contemplated erecting the temple,
+did it dawn upon them that something unusual was taking place.</p>
+
+<p>It could not be a night like all others, for up on the very edge of the
+cliff they saw the most remarkable being! At first they thought it was
+an old, distorted olive-trunk; later they imagined that an ancient stone
+figure from the temple of Jupiter had wandered out on the cliff. Finally
+it was apparent to them that it could be only the old sibyl.</p>
+
+<p>Anything so aged, so weather-beaten, and so giantlike in stature they
+had never seen. This old woman was awe-inspiring! If the Emperor had not
+been present, they would all have fled to their homes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is she," they whispered to each other, "who has lived as many years
+as there are sand-grains on her native shores. Why has she come out from
+her cave just to-night? What does she foretell for the Emperor and the
+Empire&mdash;she, who writes her prophecies on the leaves of the trees and
+knows that the wind will carry the words of the oracle to the person for
+whom they are intended?"</p>
+
+<p>They were so terrified that they would have dropped on their knees with
+their foreheads pressed against the earth, had the sibyl stirred. But
+she sat as still as though she were lifeless. Crouching upon the
+outermost edge of the cliff, and shading her eyes with her hand, she
+peered out into the night. She sat there as if she had gone up on the
+hill that she might see more clearly something that was happening far
+away. <i>She</i> could see things on a night like this!</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the Emperor and all his retinue, marked how profound the
+darkness was. None of them could see a hand's breadth in front of him.
+And what stillness! What silence! Not even the Tiber's hollow murmur
+could they hear. The air seemed to suffocate them, cold sweat broke out
+on their foreheads, and their hands were numb and powerless. They feared
+that some dreadful disaster was impending.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But no one cared to show that he was afraid, and every one told the
+Emperor that this was a good omen. All Nature held its breath to greet a
+new god.</p>
+
+<p>They counseled Augustus to hurry with the sacrifice, and said that the
+old sibyl had evidently come out of her cave to greet his genius.</p>
+
+<p>But the truth was that the old sibyl was so absorbed in a vision that
+she did not even know that Augustus had come up to the Capitol. She was
+transported in spirit to a far-distant land, where she imagined that she
+was wandering over a great plain. In the darkness she stubbed her foot
+continually against something, which she believed to be grass-tufts. She
+stooped down and felt with her hand. No, it was not grass, but sheep.
+She was walking between great sleeping flocks of sheep.</p>
+
+<p>Then she noticed the shepherds' fire. It burned in the middle of the
+field, and she groped her way to it. The shepherds lay asleep by the
+fire, and beside them were the long, spiked staves with which they
+defended their flocks from wild beasts. But the little animals with the
+glittering eyes and the bushy tails that stole up to the fire, were they
+not jackals? And yet the shepherds did not fling their staves at them,
+the dogs continued to sleep, the sheep did not flee, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> wild
+animals lay down to rest beside the human beings.</p>
+
+<p>This the sibyl saw, but she knew nothing of what was being enacted on
+the hill back of her. She did not know that there they were raising an
+altar, lighting charcoal and strewing incense, and that the Emperor took
+one of the doves from the cage to sacrifice it. But his hands were so
+benumbed that he could not hold the bird. With one stroke of the wing,
+it freed itself and disappeared in the night darkness.</p>
+
+<p>When this happened, the courtiers glanced suspiciously at the old sibyl.
+They believed that it was she who caused the misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>Could they know that all the while the sibyl thought herself standing
+beside the shepherds' fire, and that she listened to a faint sound which
+came trembling through the dead-still night? She heard it long before
+she marked that it did not come from earth, but from the sky. At last
+she raised her head; then she saw light, shimmering forms glide forward
+in the darkness. They were little flocks of angels, who, singing
+joyously, and apparently searching, flew back and forth above the wide
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>While the sibyl was listening to the angel-song, the Emperor was making
+preparations for a new sacrifice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> He washed his hands, cleansed the
+altar, and took up the other dove. And, although he exerted his full
+strength to hold it fast, the dove's slippery body slid from his hand,
+and the bird swung itself up into the impenetrable night.</p>
+
+<p>The Emperor was appalled! He fell upon his knees and prayed to his
+genius. He implored him for strength to avert the disasters which this
+night seemed to foreshadow.</p>
+
+<p>Nor did the sibyl hear any of this either. She was listening with her
+whole soul to the angel-song, which grew louder and louder. At last it
+became so powerful that it wakened the shepherds. They raised themselves
+on their elbows and saw shining hosts of silver-white angels move in
+the darkness in long swaying lines, like migratory birds. Some held
+lutes and cymbals in their hands; others held zithers and harps, and
+their song rang out as merry as child-laughter, and as carefree as the
+lark's thrill. When the shepherds heard this, they rose up to go to the
+mountain city, where they lived, to tell of the miracle.</p>
+
+<p>They groped their way forward on a narrow, winding path, and the sibyl
+followed them. Suddenly it grew light up there on the mountain: a big,
+clear star kindled right over it, and the city on the mountain summit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+glittered like silver in the starlight. All the fluttering angel throngs
+hastened thither, shouting for joy, and the shepherds hurried so that
+they almost ran. When they reached the city, they found that the angels
+had assembled over a low stable near the city gate. It was a wretched
+structure, with a roof of straw and the naked cliff for a back wall.
+Over it hung the Star, and hither flocked more and more angels. Some
+seated themselves on the straw roof or alighted upon the steep
+mountain-wall back of the house; others, again, held themselves in the
+air on outspread wings, and hovered over it. High, high up, the air was
+illuminated by the shining wings.</p>
+
+<p>The instant the Star kindled over the mountain city, all Nature awoke,
+and the men who stood upon Capitol Hill could not help seeing it. They
+felt fresh, but caressing winds which traveled through space; delicious
+perfumes streamed up about them; trees swayed; the Tiber began to
+murmur; the stars twinkled, and suddenly the moon stood out in the sky
+and lit up the world. And out of the clouds the two doves came circling
+down and lighted upon the Emperor's shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>When this miracle happened, Augustus rose, proud and happy, but his
+friends and his slaves fell on their knees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hail, Cæsar!" they cried. "Thy genius hath answered thee. Thou art the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"</p>
+
+<p>And this cry of homage, which the men in their transport gave as a
+tribute to the emperor, was so loud that the old sibyl heard it. It
+waked her from her visions. She rose from her place on the edge of the
+cliff, and came down among the people. It was as if a dark cloud had
+arisen from the abyss and rushed down the mountain height. She was
+terrifying in her extreme age! Coarse hair hung in matted tangles around
+her head, her joints were enlarged, and the dark skin, hard as the bark
+of a tree, covered her body with furrow upon furrow.</p>
+
+<p>Potent and awe-inspiring, she advanced toward the Emperor. With one hand
+she clutched his wrist, with the other she pointed toward the distant
+East.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" she commanded, and the Emperor raised his eyes and saw. The
+vaulted heavens opened before his eyes, and his glance traveled to the
+distant Orient. He saw a lowly stable behind a steep rock wall, and in
+the open doorway a few shepherds kneeling. Within the stable he saw a
+young mother on her knees before a little child, who lay upon a bundle
+of straw on the floor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And the sibyl's big, knotty fingers pointed toward the poor babe. "Hail,
+Cæsar!" cried the sibyl, in a burst of scornful laughter. "There is the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"</p>
+
+<p>Then Augustus shrank back from her, as from a maniac. But upon the sibyl
+fell the mighty spirit of prophecy. Her dim eyes began to burn, her
+hands were stretched toward heaven, her voice was so changed that it
+seemed not to be her own, but rang out with such resonance and power
+that it could have been heard over the whole world. And she uttered
+words which she appeared to be reading among the stars.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon Capitol Hill shall the Redeemer of the world be
+worshiped&mdash;<i>Christ</i>&mdash;but not frail mortals."</p>
+
+<p>When she had said this, she strode past the terror-stricken men, walked
+slowly down the mountain, and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>But, on the following day, Augustus strictly forbade the people to raise
+any temple to him on Capitol Hill. In place of it he built a sanctuary
+to the new-born GodChild, and called it HEAVEN'S ALTAR&mdash;<i>Ara Coeli</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;">
+<img src="images/24s-167.jpg" width="363" height="450" alt="THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<h2><a name="THE_VOYAGE_OF_THE_WEE_RED_CAP13" id="THE_VOYAGE_OF_THE_WEE_RED_CAP13"></a>THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IT was the Eve of St. Stephen, and Teig sat alone by his fire with
+naught in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and
+a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water bucket
+outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth&mdash;a handful of
+golden cinders left, just; and Teig took to counting them greedily on
+his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he laughed. "Faith, there
+be more bits o' real gold hid undther the loose clay in the corner."</p>
+
+<p>It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching for the last
+piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare of a Christmas dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if ye have naught to
+give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" and he laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking of the neighbors, and the doles of food and piggins of
+milk that would pass over their thresholds that night to the vagabonds
+and paupers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> who were sure to come begging. And on the heels of that
+thought followed another: who would be giving old Barney his dinner?
+Barney lived a stone's throw from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in
+cabin; and for a score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep
+every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, had called
+across the road:</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" And Barney had
+reached for his crutches&mdash;there being but one leg to him&mdash;and had come.</p>
+
+<p>"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the once;
+'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to thinking of
+the gold again.</p>
+
+<p>A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself down in his chair where
+the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there,
+open your door. I have not got the pay for the spriggin' this month, an'
+the childher are needin' food."</p>
+
+<p>But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never stirred till he heard
+the tramp of her feet going on to the next cabin. Then he saw to it that
+the door was tight-barred. Another knock came, and it was a stranger's
+voice this time:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will
+ye take us in&mdash;the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel
+o' food have we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"</p>
+
+<p>But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers'
+feet passed down the road. Others took their place&mdash;small feet, running.
+It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran by:</p>
+
+<p>"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forget-tin' him, will ye,
+Teig?"</p>
+
+<p>And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, as she passed
+down the road:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mind that ye keep it, this holy even.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Open your door an' greet ye the stranger&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 19em;">Mhuire as traugh!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis well that ye mind&mdash;ye who sit by the fire&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Mhuire as traugh!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million murdthering curses on
+them that won't let me be! Can't a man try to keep what is his without
+bein' pesthered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> by them that has only idled an' wasted their days?"</p>
+
+<p>And then a strange thing happened: hundreds and hundreds of wee lights
+began dancing outside the window, making the room bright; the hands of
+the clock began chasing each other round the dial, and the bolt of the
+door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak or a cringe, the door
+opened, and in there trooped a crowd of the Good People. Their wee green
+cloaks were folded close about them, and each carried a rush candle.</p>
+
+<p>Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, when he saw the
+fairies, but when they saw him they laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, Teig," said they. "Ye
+are the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."</p>
+
+<p>Without saying more, they bustled about the room making ready. They
+lengthened out the table and spread and set it; more of the Good People
+trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
+and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece a-blowing their
+chanters and trying the drones. The feasting began and the pipers played
+and never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> had Teig seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man
+sang out:</p>
+
+<p>"Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" And out of the
+air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig ever laid his two eyes on. The
+wee man clapped it on his head, crying:</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was in Spain!" and&mdash;whist&mdash;up the chimney he went, and away
+out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee man called for his cap,
+and away he went after the first. And then another and another until the
+room was empty and Teig sat alone again.</p>
+
+<p>"By my soul," said Teig, "I'd like to thravel that way myself! It's a
+grand savin' of tickets an' baggage; an' ye get to a place before ye've
+had time to change your mind. Faith there is no harm done if I thry it."</p>
+
+<p>So he sang the fairies' rime and out of the air dropped a wee cap for
+him. For a moment the wonder had him, but the next he was clapping the
+cap on his head and crying:</p>
+
+<p>"Spain!"</p>
+
+<p>Then&mdash;whist&mdash;up the chimney he went after the fairies, and before he had
+time to let out his breath he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> was standing in the middle of Spain, and
+strangeness all about him.</p>
+
+<p>He was in a great city. The doorways of the houses were hung with
+flowers and the air was warm and sweet with the smell of them. Torches
+burned along the streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their
+wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one of the fairies.</p>
+
+<p>"They are waiting for those that are hearing mass. When they come out,
+they give half of what they have to those that have nothing, so on this
+night of all the year there shall be no hunger and no cold."</p>
+
+<p>And then far down the street came the sound of a child's voice, singing:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mind that ye keep it, this holy even."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?" And then he heard the
+fairies cry "Holland!" and he cried "Holland!" too.</p>
+
+<p>In one leap he was over France, and another over Belgium; and with the
+third he was standing by long ditches of water frozen fast, and over
+them glided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> hundreds upon hundreds of lads and maids. Outside each door
+stood a wee wooden shoe empty. Teig saw scores of them as he looked down
+the ditch of a street.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the meanin' o' those shoes?" he asked the fairies.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye poor lad!" answered the wee man next to him; "are ye not knowing
+anything? This is the Gift Night of the year, when every man gives to
+his neighbor."</p>
+
+<p>A child came to the window of one of the houses, and in her hand was a
+lighted candle. She was singing as she put the light down close to the
+glass, and Teig caught the words:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Open your door an' greet ye the stranger&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Mhuire as traugh!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red cap more firmly
+on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm for another country."</p>
+
+<p>I cannot be telling you half the adventures Teig had that night, nor
+half the sights that he saw. But he passed by fields that held sheaves
+of grain for the birds and doorsteps that held bowls of porridge for the
+wee creatures. He saw lighted trees, sparkling and heavy with gifts; and
+he stood outside the churches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> and watched the crowds pass in, bearing
+gifts to the Holy Mother and Child.</p>
+
+<p>At last the fairies straightened their caps and cried, "Now for the
+great hall in the King of England's palace!"</p>
+
+<p>Whist&mdash;and away they went, and Teig after them; and the first thing he
+knew he was in London, not an arm's length from the King's throne. It
+was a grander sight than he had seen in any other country. The hall was
+filled entirely with lords and ladies; and the great doors were open for
+the poor and the homeless to come in and warm themselves by the King's
+fire and feast from the King's table. And many a hungry soul did the
+King serve with his own hands.</p>
+
+<p>Those that had anything to give gave it in return. It might be a bit of
+music played on a harp or a pipe, or it might be a dance or a song; but
+more often it was a wish, just, for good luck and safekeeping.</p>
+
+<p>Teig was so taken up with the watching that he never heard the fairies
+when they wished themselves off; moreover, he never saw the wee girl
+that was fed, and went laughing away. But he heard a bit of her song as
+she passed through the door:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary."</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then the anger had Teig. "I'll stop your pestherin' tongue, once an' for
+all time!" and, catching the cap from his head, he threw it after her.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the hall saw him. The next
+moment they were about him, catching at his coat and crying:</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he from, what does he here? Bring him before the King!" And
+Teig was dragged along by a hundred hands to the throne where the King
+sat.</p>
+
+<p>"He was stealing food," cried one.</p>
+
+<p>"He was robbing the King's jewels," cried another.</p>
+
+<p>"He looks evil," cried a third. "Kill him!"</p>
+
+<p>And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall rang with: "Aye,
+kill him, kill him!"</p>
+
+<p>Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash on his tongue; but
+after a long silence he managed to whisper:</p>
+
+<p>"I have done evil to no one&mdash;no one!"</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? Come, tell us, have ye
+given aught to any one this night? If ye have, we will pardon ye."</p>
+
+<p>Not a word could Teig say&mdash;fear tightened the leash &mdash;for he was knowing
+full well there was no good to him that night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try hanging or beheading?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig.</p>
+
+<p>The guards came rushing up and carried him off. But as he was crossing
+the threshold of the hall a thought sprang at him and held him.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Majesty," he called after him, "will ye grant me a last request?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said the King.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank ye. There's a wee red cap that I'm mortal fond of, and I lost it
+a while ago; if I could be hung with it on, I would hang a deal more
+comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>The cap was found and brought to Teig.</p>
+
+<p>"Clip, clap, clip, clap, for my wee red cap, I wish I was home," he
+sang.</p>
+
+<p>Up and over the heads of the dumfounded guard he flew, and&mdash;whist&mdash;and
+away out of sight. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting close
+by his own hearth, with the fire burnt low. The hands of the clock were
+still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door. The fairies' lights were
+gone, and the only bright thing was the candle burning in old Barney's
+cabin across the road.</p>
+
+<p>A running of feet sounded outside, and then the snatch of a song:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"'Tis well that ye mind&mdash;ye who sit by the fire&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;">Mhuire as traugh!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to the corner, digging fast
+at the loose clay, as a terrier digs at a bone. He filled his hands full
+of the shining gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.</p>
+
+<p>The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him out of the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? And take the rest to
+the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable an'
+dhrinkable; and to the neighbors ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this
+night.' Hurry now!"</p>
+
+<p>Teig stopped a moment on the threshold until the tramp of her feet had
+died away; then he made a hollow of his two hands and called across the
+road:</p>
+
+<p>"Hey there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+<h2><br /><br /><a name="GREEK_LEGENDS" id="GREEK_LEGENDS"></a>GREEK LEGENDS<br /><br /></h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;">
+<img src="images/24s-183.jpg" width="371" height="450" alt="THE CURSE OF ECHO" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE CURSE OF ECHO</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_CURSE_OF_ECHO14" id="THE_CURSE_OF_ECHO14"></a>THE CURSE OF ECHO<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IN the flowery groves of Helicon, Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand
+in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the side
+of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the lightest and
+her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not one of them
+could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting mischief in
+their hearts, they would say to her:</p>
+
+<p>"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower,
+and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See
+thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to twine
+in thy hair."</p>
+
+<p>And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove.</p>
+
+<p>"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"When that time comes we shall see," said they.</p>
+
+<p>So with another laugh she would trip away and cast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> herself on the grass
+at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would relax,
+and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair.</p>
+
+<p>"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would answer,
+"and I have a tale&mdash;a wondrous new tale&mdash;to tell thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one of
+them as long as an old man's beard."</p>
+
+<p>"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have
+told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of
+the one I shall tell thee now."</p>
+
+<p>"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the
+end."</p>
+
+<p>So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes fixed
+upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of words, and,
+moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which she alone
+could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding to them as
+best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best of
+tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their lies
+some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> grains of truth which they have picked from their own experience.
+And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, and listen
+entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene live before
+her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their hearts' content and
+never fear her anger.</p>
+
+<p>But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the
+prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her wrath
+flashed forth like lightning.</p>
+
+<p>"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she
+cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till some one else has spoken,
+and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must
+needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she
+longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass that
+she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in her
+mouth, whether she wished it or no.</p>
+
+<p>Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his
+companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only wandered
+further,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. He was
+now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a flower in
+spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed for him.
+But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his heart was hard
+as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, they could kindle
+no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn them, and treat
+them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. When he was born,
+the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning him:</p>
+
+<p>"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy."</p>
+
+<p>And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor woman,
+but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that all who
+saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get from them what
+he would. But he himself knew naught of love, and therefore but little
+of grief; for love at the best brings joy and sorrow hand in hand, and
+if unreturned, it brings naught but pain.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods,
+they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he
+went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> would not
+show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should
+not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last,
+when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one
+of his companions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Where art thou?" answered Echo.</p>
+
+<p>When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear
+nothing more. Then he called again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here in the wood&mdash;Narcissus."</p>
+
+<p>"In the wood&mdash;Narcissus," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Come hither," he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Come hither," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all about,
+but could see no one.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou close at hand?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Close at hand," answered Echo.</p>
+
+<p>Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction of
+the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled further,
+so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But wherever
+she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he would not let
+her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had to answer, and
+so show him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> her hiding-place. By now they had come to an open space in
+the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a clear pool in the
+hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, with her back to the
+tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came out from the trees she
+wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped from her eyes; for she loved
+him, and longed to speak to him, and yet she could not say a word. When
+he saw her he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Who calls me?" she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Who art thou?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Who art thou?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?"</p>
+
+<p>"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why dost thou call me?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>At this he grew angry.</p>
+
+<p>"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> dance through the
+woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she.</p>
+
+<p>At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word
+of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired out
+with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass by the
+pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a time she
+stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and explain, but
+never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery she left him, and
+went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a while, when his
+anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered he was very
+thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool beside him, he
+bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out his hand to take
+the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which was the fairest
+face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never yet had known
+what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in the pool. With a
+sigh he held out both his arms toward it, and the figure also held out
+two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered back his sigh. When he
+saw the figure stretching out towards him and heard the sigh, he thought
+that his love was returned, and he bent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> down closer to the water and
+whispered, "I love thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock.</p>
+
+<p>At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in
+his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool
+was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to
+his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been
+over-hasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again
+as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once
+again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it fled
+from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same thing
+happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking down into
+the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the figure in
+the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of longing and
+despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the flame of love
+burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no more, but
+determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for the last time
+he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he was clasping the
+empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the pool, thinking that
+in the depths, at any rate, he would find his love. But he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> found naught
+but death among the weeds and stones of the pool, and knew not that it
+was his own face he loved reflected in the water below him. Thus were
+the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So long as he sees not himself he
+shall live and be happy."</p>
+
+<p>Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when
+Narcissus cast himself into the pool she rushed forward, all too late,
+to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast herself on
+the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and her bones
+wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained and the
+curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless voice
+haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has seen
+since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of him
+beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But her
+voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that no one
+was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if once the
+curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be:</p>
+
+<p>"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back&mdash;come back to me!"</p>
+
+<p>By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had watered
+with her tears, there sprang up a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> sweet-scented flower, with a pure
+white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land men call
+that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his own fair
+face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;">
+<img src="images/24s-195.jpg" width="372" height="450" alt="HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="HOW_THE_ASS_BECAME_A_MAN_AGAIN15" id="HOW_THE_ASS_BECAME_A_MAN_AGAIN15"></a>HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>ONCE upon a time there lived a young man who would do nothing from
+morning till night but amuse himself. His parents were dead and had left
+him plenty of money, but this was fast vanishing, and his friends shook
+their heads sadly, for when the money was gone they did not see where
+more was to come from. It was not that Apuleius (for that was the name
+of the youth) was stupid. He might have been a good soldier, or a
+scholar, or a worker in gold, if so it had pleased him, but from a child
+he had refused to do anything useful, and roamed about the city all day
+long in search of adventures. The only kind of learning to which he paid
+any heed was magic, and when he was in the house he would spend hours
+poring over great books of spells.</p>
+
+<p>Fond though he was of sorcery, he was too lazy to leave the town and its
+pleasures&mdash;the chariot-racing, the theater, and the wrestling, and to
+travel in search of the wizards who were renowned for their skill in the
+art. However, the time came when, very unwill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>ingly, he was forced to
+take a journey into Thessaly, to see to the proper working of some
+silver mines in which he had a share, and Thessaly, as everybody knows,
+is the home of all magic. So when Apuleius arrived at the town of
+Hypata, where dwelt the man Milo, overseer of his mines, he was prepared
+to believe that all he saw was enchanted.</p>
+
+<p>Now, if Thessaly is the country of magic, it is also the country of
+robbers, and Apuleius soon noticed that everybody he met was in fear of
+them. Indeed, they made this fear the excuse for all sorts of mean and
+foolish ways. For instance, Milo, who loved money and could not bear to
+spend a farthing, refused to have any seats in his house that could be
+removed, and in consequence there was nothing to sit upon except two
+marble chairs fixed to the wall. As there was only room in these for one
+person, the wife of Milo had to retire to her own chamber when the young
+man entered.</p>
+
+<p>"It was no use," explained Milo, "in laying out money on moveable seats,
+with robbers about. They would be sure to hear of it and to break into
+the house."</p>
+
+<p>Unlike his guest, Milo was always occupied in adding to his wealth in
+one form or another. Sometimes he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> sent down a train of mules to the
+sea, and bought merchandise which the ships had carried from Babylon or
+Egypt, to sell it again at a high price. Then he dealt in sheep and
+cattle, and when he thought he might do so with safety made false
+returns of the silver that was dug up from the mines, and kept the
+difference for himself. But most often he lent large sums at high
+interest to the young men of the neighborhood, and so cunning was he
+that, whoever else might be ruined, Milo managed to make large profits.</p>
+
+<p>Apuleius knew very well that his steward was in his way as great a
+robber as any in Thessaly, but, as usual, he found it too much trouble
+to look into the matter. So he laughed and jested with the miser, and
+next morning went out to the public baths and then took a stroll through
+the city. It was full of statues of the famous men to whom Hypata had
+given birth; but as Apuleius had made up his mind that nothing in
+Thessaly <i>could</i> be what it seemed, he supposed that they were living
+people who had fallen under enchantment, and that the oxen whom he met
+driven through the streets had once been men and women.</p>
+
+<p>One evening he was returning as usual from a walk when he saw from afar
+three figures before Milo's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> house, whom he at once guessed were trying
+to force an entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is an adventure at last," thought he, and, keeping in the shadow,
+he stole softly up behind them, and drawing his short sword he stabbed
+each one to the heart. Then, without waiting to see what more would
+befall, he left them where they were and entered the house by a door at
+the back.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing of what had happened to Milo his host, but the next day,
+before he had left his bed, a summons was brought him by one of the
+slaves to appear before the court at noon on a charge of murder. As has
+been seen, Apuleius was a brave man and did not fear to face three times
+his number, but his heart quailed at the thought of a public trial.
+Still, he was wise enough to know that there was no help for it, and at
+the hour appointed he was in his place.</p>
+
+<p>The first witnesses against him were two women with black veils covering
+them from head to foot. At the sound of the herald's trumpet, one of the
+two stepped forward and accused him of compassing the death of her
+husband. When she had ended her plaint the herald blew another blast,
+and another veiled woman came forward and charged him with her son's
+murder. Then the herald inquired if there was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> yet a third victim,
+but was answered that his wound was slight, and that he was able to roam
+through the city.</p>
+
+<p>After the witnesses had been called, the judge pronounced sentence.
+Apuleius the murderer was condemned to death, but he must first of all
+be tortured, so that he might reveal the names of the men who had
+abetted him. By order of the court, horrible instruments were brought
+forward which chilled the blood of Apuleius in his veins. But to his
+surprise, when he looked round to see if none would be his friend, he
+noticed that every one, from the judge to the herald, was shaking with
+laughter. His amazement was increased when with a trembling voice one of
+the women demanded that the bodies should be produced, so that the judge
+might be induced to feel more pity and to order more tortures. The judge
+assented to this, and two bodies were carried into court shrouded in
+wrappings, and the order was given that Apuleius himself should remove
+the wrappings.</p>
+
+<p>The face of the young man grew white as he heard the words of the judge,
+for even a hardened criminal cares but little to touch the corpse of a
+man whom he has murdered. But he dared not disobey, and walked slowly to
+the place where the dead bodies lay. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> shrank for a moment as he took
+the cloth in his hands, but his guards were behind him, and calling up
+all his courage, he withdrew it. A shout of laughter pealed out behind
+him, and to his amazement he saw that his victims of the previous night
+had been three huge leather bottles and not men at all!</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Apuleius found out the trick that had been played on him he
+was no less amused than the rest, but in the midst of his mirth a sudden
+thought struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"How was it you managed to make them alive?" asked he, "for alive they
+were, and battering themselves against the door of the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that is simple enough when one has a sorceress for a mistress,"
+answered a damsel, who was standing by. "She burned the hairs of some
+goats and wove spells over them, so that the animals to whom the hairs
+and skins had once belonged became endowed with life and tried to enter
+their former dwelling."</p>
+
+<p>"They may well say that Thessaly is the home of wonders," cried the
+young man. "But do you think that your mistress would let me see her at
+work? I would pay her well&mdash;and you also," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"It might be managed perhaps, without her knowledge," answered Fotis,
+for such was the girl's name;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> "but you must hold yourself in readiness
+after nightfall, for I cannot tell what evening she may choose to cast
+off her own shape."</p>
+
+<p>Apuleius promised readily that he would not stir out after sunset, and
+the damsel went her way.</p>
+
+<p>That very evening, Hesperus had scarcely risen from his bed when Fotis
+knocked at the door of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Come hither, and quickly," she said; and without stopping to question
+her Apuleius hastened by her side to the dwelling of the witch Pamphile.
+Entering softly, they crept along a dark passage, where they could peep
+through a crack in the wall and see Pamphile at work. She was in the act
+of rubbing her body with essences from a long row of bottles which stood
+in a cupboard in the wall, chanting to herself spells as she did so.
+Slowly, feathers began to sprout from her head to her feet. Her arms
+vanished, her nails became claws, her eyes grew round and her nose
+hooked, and a little brown owl flew out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Fotis, but Apuleius shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," he answered. "I want to know how she transforms herself into
+a woman again."</p>
+
+<p>"That is quite easy, you may be sure," replied Fotis.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> "My mistress
+never runs any risks. A cup of water from a spring, with some laurel
+leaves and anise floating in it, is all that she needs. I have seen her
+do it a thousand times."</p>
+
+<p>"Turn me into a nightingale, then, and I will give you five hundred
+sesterces," cried Apuleius eagerly; and Fotis, tempted by the thought of
+so much money, agreed to do what he wished.</p>
+
+<p>But either Fotis was not so skilful as she thought herself, or in her
+hurry she neglected to observe that the bird bottles were all on one
+shelf, and the beast bottles on another, for when she had rubbed the
+ointment over the young man's chest something fearful happened. Instead
+of his arms disappearing, they stretched downwards; his back became
+bent, his face long and narrow, while a browny-gray fur covered his
+body. Apuleius had been changed, not into a nightingale, but into an
+ass!</p>
+
+<p>A loud scream broke from Fotis when she saw what she had done, and
+Apuleius, glancing at a polished mirror from Corinth which hung on the
+walls, beheld with horror the fate that had overtaken him.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, quick! fetch the water, and I will seek for the laurels and
+anise," he cried. "I do not want to be an ass at all; my arms and back
+are aching already, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> if I am not swiftly restored to my own shape I
+shall not be able to overthrow the champion in the wrestling match
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>So Fotis ran out to draw the water from the spring, while Apuleius
+opened some boxes with his teeth, and soon found the anise and laurels.
+But alas! Fotis had deceived herself. The charm which was meant for a
+bird would not work with a beast, and, what was worse, when Apuleius
+tried to speak to her and beg her to try something else, he found he
+could only bray!</p>
+
+<p>In despair the girl took down the book of spells, and began to turn over
+the pages; while the ass, who was still a man in all but his outward
+form, glanced eagerly down them also. At length he gave a loud bray of
+satisfaction, and rubbed his nose on a part of the long scroll.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I remember now," cried Fotis with delight. "What a comfort
+that nothing more is needed to restore you to your proper shape than a
+handful of rose leaves!"</p>
+
+<p>The mind of Apuleius was now quite easy, but his spirits fell again when
+Fotis reminded him that he could no longer expect to be received by his
+friends, but must lie in the stable of Milo, with his own horse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> and be
+tended, if he was tended at all, by his own servant.</p>
+
+<p>"However, it will not be for long," she added consolingly. "In the
+corner of the stable is a little shrine to the goddess of horses, and
+every day fresh roses are placed before it. Before the sun sets
+to-morrow you will be yourself again."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and shyly Apuleius slunk along lonely paths till he came to the
+stable of Milo. The door was open, but, as he entered, his horse, who
+was fastened with a sliding cord, kicked wildly at him, and caught him
+right on the shoulder. But before the horse could deal another blow
+Apuleius had sprung hastily on one side, and had hidden himself in a
+dark corner, where he slept soundly.</p>
+
+<p>The moon was shining brightly when he awoke, and looking round, he saw,
+as Fotis had told him, the shrine of Hippone, with a branch of
+sweet-smelling pink roses lying before it. It was rather high up, he
+thought, but, when he reared himself on his hind legs, he would surely
+be tall enough to reach it. So up he got, and trod softly over the
+straw, till he drew near the shrine, when with a violent effort he threw
+up his forelegs into the air. Yes! it was all right, his nose was quite
+near the roses; but just as he opened his mouth his balance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> gave way,
+and his front feet came heavily on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The noise brought the man, who was sleeping in another part of the
+stable.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see what you are at, you ugly beast," cried he; "would you eat
+roses that I put there for the goddess? I don't know who may be your
+master, or how you got here, but I will take care that you do no more
+mischief." So saying, he struck the ass several times with his fists,
+and then, putting a rope round his neck, tied him up in another part of
+the stable.</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that an hour or two later some of the most desperate
+robbers in all Thessaly broke into the house of Milo, and, unheard by
+any one, took all the bags of money that the miser had concealed under
+some loose stones in his cellar. It was clear that they could not carry
+away such heavy plunder without risk of the crime being discovered, but
+they managed to get it quietly as far as the stable, where they gave the
+horse some apples to put it in a good temper, while they thrust a turnip
+into the mouth of Apuleius, who did not like it at all. Then they led
+out both the animals, and placed the sacks of money on their backs,
+after which they all set out for the robbers' cave in the side of the
+mountain. As this, however, was some distance off, it took them many
+hours to reach it, and on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> the way they passed through a large deserted
+garden, where rose bushes of all sorts grew like weeds. The pulse of
+Apuleius bounded at the sight, and he had already stretched out his nose
+towards them, when he suddenly remembered that if he should turn into a
+man in his present company he would probably be murdered by the robbers.
+With a great effort, he left the roses alone, and tramped steadily on
+his way.</p>
+
+<p>It were long indeed to tell the adventures of Apuleius and the number of
+masters whom he served. After some time he was captured by a soldier,
+and by him sold to two brothers, one a cook and the other a maker of
+pastry, who were attached to the service of a rich man who lived in the
+country. This man did not allow any of his slaves to dwell in his house,
+except those who attended on him personally, and these two brothers
+lived in a tent on the other side of the garden, and the ass was given
+to them to send to and fro with savory dishes in his panniers.</p>
+
+<p>The cook and his brother were both careful men, and always had a great
+store of pastry and sweet things on their shelves, so that none might be
+lacking if their lord should command them. When they had done their work
+they placed water and food for their donkey in a little shed which
+opened on to the tent, then, fastening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> the door so that no one could
+enter, they went out to enjoy the evening air.</p>
+
+<p>On their return, it struck them that the tent looked unusually bare, and
+at length they perceived that this was because every morsel of pastry
+and sweets on the shelves had disappeared, and nothing was left of them,
+not so much as a crumb. There was no room for a thief to hide, so the
+two brothers supposed that, impossible it seemed, he must not only have
+got <i>in</i> but <i>out</i> by the door, and, as their master might send for a
+tray of cakes at any moment, there was no help for it but to make a
+fresh supply. And so they did, and it took them more than half the night
+to do it.</p>
+
+<p>The next evening the same thing happened again; and the next, and the
+next, and the next.</p>
+
+<p>Then, by accident, the cook went into the shed where the ass lay, and
+discovered a heap of corn and hay that reached nearly to the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you rascal!" he exclaimed, bursting out laughing as he spoke. "So
+it is you who have cost us our sleep! Well, well, I dare say I should
+have done the same myself, for cakes and sweets are certainly nicer than
+corn and hay." And the donkey brayed in answer, and winked an eye at
+him, and, more amused than before, the man went away to tell his
+brother.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Of course it was not long before the story reached the ears of their
+master, who instantly sent to buy the donkey, and bade one of his
+servants, who had a taste for such things, teach him fresh tricks. This
+the man was ready enough to do, for the fame of this wonderful creature
+soon spread far and wide, and the citizens of the town thronged the
+doors of his stable. And while the servant reaped much gold by making
+the ass display his accomplishments, the master gained many friends
+among the people, and was soon made chief ruler.</p>
+
+<p>For five years Apuleius stayed in the house of Thyasus, and ate as many
+sweet cakes as he chose; and if he wanted more than were given him he
+wandered down to the tent of his old masters, and swept the shelves bare
+as of yore. At the end of the five years Thyasus proclaimed that a great
+feast would be held in his garden, after which plays would be acted, and
+in one of them his donkey should appear.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though Apuleius loved eating and drinking, he was not at all fond
+of doing tricks in public, and as the day drew near he grew more and
+more resolved that he would take no part in the entertainment. So one
+warm moonlight night he stole out of his stable, and galloped as fast as
+he could for ten miles, when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> reached the sea. He was hot and tired
+with his long run, and the sea looked cool and pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>"It is years since I have had a bath," thought he, "or wetted anything
+but my feet. I will take one now; it will make me feel like a man
+again"; and into the water he went, and splashed about with
+joy, which would much have surprised any one who had seen him, for asses
+do not in general care about washing.</p>
+
+<p>When he came back to dry land once more, he shook himself all over, and
+held his head first on one side and then on the other, so that the water
+might run out of his long ears. After that he felt quite comfortable,
+and lay down to sleep under a tree.</p>
+
+<p>He was awakened some hours later by the sound of voices singing a hymn,
+and, raising his head, he saw a vast crowd of people trooping down to
+the shore to hold the festival of their goddess, and in their midst
+walked the high priest crowned with a wreath of roses.</p>
+
+<p>At this sight hope was born afresh in the heart of Apuleius. It was long
+indeed since he had beheld any roses, for Thyasus fancied they made him
+ill, and would not suffer any one to grow them in the city. So he drew
+near to the priest as he passed by, and gazed at him so wistfully that,
+moved by some sudden impulse, the pontiff lifted the wreath from his
+head, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> held it out to him, while the people drew to one side,
+feeling that something was happening which they did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had Apuleius swallowed one of the roses, when the ass's skin
+fell from him, his back straightened itself, and his face once more
+became fair and rosy. Then he turned and joined in the hymn, and there
+was not a man among them all with a sweeter voice or more thankful
+spirit than that of Apuleius.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 366px;">
+<img src="images/24s-213.jpg" width="366" height="450" alt="HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="HOW_ALEXANDER_THE_KING_GOT_THE_WATER_OF_LIFE16" id="HOW_ALEXANDER_THE_KING_GOT_THE_WATER_OF_LIFE16"></a>HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">THIS</span> story is part of a longer one called "Alexander the Son of Philip."
+Alexander, a little bootblack living in modern Athens, is befriended by
+a blind old schoolmaster, Kyr Themistocli, to whom he promises to come
+each day and read the daily newspaper. For this service the little
+"Aleko" is to be helped with his lessons. By way of getting acquainted
+the old man asks, "Tell me, now, what do they call you?"</p>
+
+<p>"They call me Aleko."</p>
+
+<p>"From where?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother lives in Megaloupolis, and I was born there and the little
+ones, but my father was not from there."</p>
+
+<p>Kyr Themistocli noticed the past tense.</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead, your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is two years ago that he died."</p>
+
+<p>"And from where was he?"</p>
+
+<p>"From Siatista."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, a Macedonian! And what was his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Philippos Vasiliou."</p>
+
+<p>"So your name is Alexandros Vasiliou?"</p>
+
+<p>Aleko nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Alexander of the King! Alexander the son of Philip! Your master has
+taught you about him at school?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Aleko, frowning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>The old man smiled. There is a story about him which you have not
+heard perhaps. Do you know how <i>Alexander the King got the Water of
+Life?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Aleko shook his head: "We have not reached such a part."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will tell you about it.  Listen:&mdash;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"WHEN Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
+and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before him
+the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of Fate,
+tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this world
+which I have made mine?'</p>
+
+<p>"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is written
+in the Book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on Earth can
+efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy thy kingdom
+and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee endure as long
+as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be hard,
+I asked only what it was.'</p>
+
+<p>"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> then that he alone who
+drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
+water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
+and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed to
+death. The bones lie in high piles, of the king's sons who have lost
+their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass safely
+through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond them a
+sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must thou slay
+before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring forth
+his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The king
+mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
+triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
+only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
+rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
+dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.</p>
+
+<p>"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
+deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened that
+his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> some
+of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to this day,
+wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke, he stretched out
+his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and found naught; and in
+his rage he would have killed the slaves who guarded his sleep, but his
+sister being of royal blood, could not hide the truth, and she told him
+that, not knowing she had thrown the Water of Life away.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon his
+sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be turned into
+a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land and habitation
+of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens that to this day
+those who sail over the open sea in ships often see Alexander's sister,
+half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves. Strange to say, she
+does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes close to her she cries
+out: 'Does Alexander live?'</p>
+
+<p>"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer, 'He
+is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms and her
+long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and sinks the
+ship. But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind,
+'Does Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and
+reigns,' then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> maid's heart is joyful and she sings sweet songs till
+the ship is out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when they
+return to land."</p>
+
+<p>When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then said
+slowly:</p>
+
+<p>"That is not true&mdash;but I like it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h2>AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS</h2><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 367px;">
+<img src="images/24s-223.jpg" width="367" height="450" alt="THE FIRST CORN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE FIRST CORN</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_FIRST_CORN17" id="THE_FIRST_CORN17"></a>THE FIRST CORN<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>A LONG time ago there lived in a Pawnee village a young man who was a
+great gambler. Every day he played at sticks, and he was almost always
+unlucky. Sometimes he would lose everything that he had, and would even
+lose things belonging to his father. His father had often scolded him
+about gambling, and had told him that he ought to stop it. There were
+two things that he never staked; these two things were his shield and
+his lance.</p>
+
+<p>One day he played sticks for a long time, and when he got through he had
+lost everything that he had except these two things. When he went home
+at night to his father's lodge he told his relations what he had done,
+and his father said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"My son, for a long time you have been doing this, and I have many times
+spoken to you about it. Now I have done. I cannot have you here any
+longer. You cannot live here in my lodge or in this village. You must go
+away."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The young man thought about it for a little while and then he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will go. It does not make much difference where I am." So he
+took his shield and his spear and went out of the lodge and started to
+go away from the village. When he got outside of the village and had
+gone some distance, he heard behind him a loud rushing sound like a
+strong wind&mdash;the sound kept getting nearer and louder&mdash;and all at once
+it was above him, and then the sound stopped, and something spoke to him
+and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am here. I have come to find you. I have been sent, and am here
+on purpose to get you and take you with me." The voice that spoke to him
+was the Wind.</p>
+
+<p>The Wind took the young man up and carried him away towards the west.
+They traveled many days, and passed over broad prairies and then across
+high mountains and then over high, wide plains and over other mountains
+until they came to the end of the world, where the sky bends down and
+touches the ground. The last thing the young man saw was the gate
+through the edge of the sky. A great buffalo bull stands in this gateway
+and blocks it up. He had to move to one side to let the Wind and the
+young man pass through.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> Every year one hair drops from the hide of this
+bull. When all have fallen the end of the world will come.</p>
+
+<p>After they had passed through this gate they went on, and it seemed as
+if they were passing over a big water. There was nothing to be seen
+except the sky and the water. At last they came to a land. Here were
+many people&mdash;great crowds of them. The Wind told the young man:</p>
+
+<p>"These are all waiters on the Father."</p>
+
+<p>They went on, and at last came to the Father's lodge and went in. When
+they had sat down the Father spoke to the young man and said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"My son, I have known you for a long time, and have watched you. I
+wanted to see you, and that is why I gave you bad luck at the sticks,
+and why I sent my Wind to bring you here. Your people are very hungry
+now because they can find no buffalo, but I am going to give you
+something on which you can live, even when the buffalo fail."</p>
+
+<p>Then he gave him three little sacks. The first contained squash seed;
+the second beans, red and white; and the third corn, white, red, blue
+and yellow. The Father said:</p>
+
+<p>"Tie these sacks to your shield and do not lose them. When you get back
+to your people give each one some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> of the seeds and tell him to put them
+in the ground; then they will make more. These things are good to eat,
+but the first year do not let the people eat them; let them put the
+yield away and the next year again put it in the ground. After that they
+can eat a part of what grows, but they must always save some for seed.
+So the people will always have something to eat with their buffalo meat,
+and something to depend on if the buffalo fail." The Father gave him
+also a buffalo robe, and said to him:</p>
+
+<p>"When you go back, the next day after you have got there, call all the
+people together in your lodge, and give them what is in this robe, and
+tell them all these things. Now you can go back to your people."</p>
+
+<p>The Wind took the young man back. They traveled a long time, and at last
+they came to the Pawnee village. The Wind put the young man down, and he
+went into his father's lodge and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I am here." But his father did not believe him, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"It is not you." He had been gone so long that they had thought him
+dead. Then he said to his mother:</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, I am here." And his mother knew him and was glad that he had
+returned.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the people had no buffalo. They had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> scouted far and near
+and could find none anywhere, and they were all very hungry. The little
+children cried with hunger. The next day after he got back, the young
+man sent out an old man to go through the camp and call all the people
+to come to his father's lodge. When they were there, he opened his robe
+and spread it out, and it was covered with pieces of fat buffalo meat
+piled high. The young man gave to each person all he could carry, but
+while he was handing out the pieces, his father was trying to pull off
+the robe the hind-quarters of the buffalo and hide them. He was afraid
+that the young man might give away all the meat, and he wanted to save
+this for their own lodge. But the young man said:</p>
+
+<p>"Father, do not take this away. Do not touch anything. There is enough."</p>
+
+<p>After he had given them the meat he showed them the sacks of seed and
+told them what they were for, and explained to them that they must not
+eat any the first year, but that they must always save some to plant,
+and the people listened. Then he said to them:</p>
+
+<p>"I hear that you have no buffalo. Come out to-morrow and I will show you
+where to go for buffalo." The People wondered where this could be, for
+they had traveled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> far in all directions looking for buffalo. The next
+day they went out as he had told them, and the young man sent two boys
+to the top of a high hill close to camp, and told them to let him know
+what they saw from it. When the boys got to the top of the hill, they
+saw down below them in the hollow a big band of buffalo.</p>
+
+<p>When the people learned that the buffalo were there, they all took their
+arrows and ran out and chased the buffalo and made a big killing, so
+that there was plenty in the camp and they made much dried meat. Four
+days after this he again sent out the boys, and they found buffalo. Now
+that they had plenty of meat they stayed in one place, and when spring
+came the young man put the seed in the ground. When the people first saw
+these strange plants growing they wondered at them, for they were new
+and different from anything that they had ever seen growing on the
+prairie. They liked the color of the young stalks, and the way they
+tasseled out, and the way the ears formed. They found that besides being
+pretty to look at they were good to eat, for when the young man had
+gathered the crop he gave the people a little to taste, so that they
+might know the words that he had spoken were true. The rest he kept for
+seed. Next season he gave all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> people seed to plant, and after that
+they always had these things.</p>
+
+<p>Later, this young man became one of the head men, and taught the people
+many things. He told them that always when they killed buffalo they must
+bring the fattest and offer them to the Father. He taught them about the
+sacred bundles, and told them that they must put an ear of corn on the
+bundles and must keep a piece of fat in the bundles along with the corn,
+and that both must be kept out of sight. In the fall they should take
+the ear of corn out of the bundles and rub the piece of fat over it.
+Thus they would have good crops and plenty of food.</p>
+
+<p>All these things the people did, and it was a help to them in their
+living.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/24s-233.jpg" width="368" height="450" alt="WAUKEWA&#39;S EAGLE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WAUKEWA&#39;S EAGLE</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="WAUKEWAS_EAGLE18" id="WAUKEWAS_EAGLE18"></a>WAUKEWA'S EAGLE<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>ONE day, when the Indian boy Waukewa was hunting along the
+mountain-side, he found a young eagle with a broken wing, lying at the
+base of a cliff. The bird had fallen from an aery on a ledge high above,
+and being too young to fly, had fluttered down the cliff and injured
+itself so severely that it was likely to die. When Waukewa saw it he was
+about to drive one of his sharp arrows through its body, for the passion
+of the hunter was strong in him, and the eagle plunders many a fine fish
+from the Indian's drying-frame. But a gentler impulse came to him as he
+saw the young bird quivering with pain and fright at his feet, and he
+slowly unbent his bow, put the arrow in his quiver, and stooped over the
+panting eaglet. For fully a minute the wild eyes of the wounded bird and
+the eyes of the Indian boy, growing gentler and softer as he gazed,
+looked into one another. Then the struggling and panting of the young
+eagle ceased; the wild, frightened look passed out of its eyes, and it
+suffered Waukewa to pass his hand gently over its ruffled and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> draggled
+feathers. The fierce instinct to fight, to defend its threatened life,
+yielded to the charm of the tenderness and pity expressed in the boy's
+eyes; and from that moment Waukewa and the eagle were friends.</p>
+
+<p>Waukewa went slowly home to his father's lodge, bearing the wounded
+eaglet in his arms. He carried it so gently that the broken wing gave no
+twinge of pain, and the bird lay perfectly still, never offering to
+strike with its sharp beak the hands that clasped it.</p>
+
+<p>Warming some water over the fire at the lodge, Waukewa bathed the broken
+wing of the eagle, and bound it up with soft strips of skin. Then he
+made a nest of ferns and grass inside the lodge, and laid the bird in
+it. The boy's mother looked on with shining eyes. Her heart was very
+tender. From girlhood she had loved all the creatures of the woods, and
+it pleased her to see some of her own gentle spirit waking in the boy.</p>
+
+<p>When Waukewa's father returned from hunting, he would have caught up the
+young eagle and wrung its neck. But the boy pleaded with him so eagerly,
+stooping over the captive and defending it with his small hands, that
+the stern warrior laughed and called him his "little squaw-heart." "Keep
+it, then," he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> "and nurse it until it is well. But then you must
+let it go, for we will not raise up a thief in the lodges." So Waukewa
+promised that when the eagle's wing was healed and grown so that it
+could fly, he would carry it forth and give it its freedom.</p>
+
+<p>It was a month&mdash;or, as the Indians say, a moon&mdash;before the young eagle's
+wing had fully mended and the bird was old enough and strong enough to
+fly. And in the meantime Waukewa cared for it and fed it daily, and the
+friendship between the boy and the bird grew very strong.</p>
+
+<p>But at last the time came when the willing captive must be freed. So
+Waukewa carried it far away from the Indian lodges, where none of the
+young braves might see it hovering over and be tempted to shoot their
+arrows at it, and there he let it go. The young eagle rose toward the
+sky in great circles, rejoicing in its freedom and its strange, new
+power of flight. But when Waukewa began to move away from the spot, it
+came swooping down again; and all day long it followed him through the
+woods as he hunted. At dusk, when Waukewa shaped his course for the
+Indian lodges, the eagle would have accompanied him. But the boy
+suddenly slipped into a hollow tree and hid, and after a long time the
+eagle stopped sweeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> about in search of him and flew slowly and sadly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Summer passed, and then winter; and spring came again, with its flowers
+and birds and swarming fish in the lakes and streams. Then it was that
+all the Indians, old and young, braves and squaws, pushed their light
+canoes out from shore and with spear and hook waged pleasant war against
+the salmon and the red-spotted trout. After winter's long imprisonment,
+it was such joy to toss in the sunshine and the warm wind and catch
+savory fish to take the place of dried meats and corn!</p>
+
+<p>Above the great falls of the Apahoqui the salmon sported in the cool,
+swinging current, darting under the lee of the rocks and leaping full
+length in the clear spring air. Nowhere else were such salmon to be
+speared as those which lay among the riffles at the head of the Apahoqui
+rapids. But only the most daring braves ventured to seek them there, for
+the current was strong, and should a light canoe once pass the
+danger-point and get caught in the rush of the rapids, nothing could
+save it from going over the roaring falls.</p>
+
+<p>Very early in the morning of a clear April day, just as the sun was
+rising splendidly over the mountains, Waukewa launched his canoe a
+half-mile above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> rapids of the Apahoqui, and floated downward, spear
+in hand, among the salmon-riffles. He was the only one of the Indian
+lads who dared fish above the falls. But he had been there often, and
+never yet had his watchful eye and his strong paddle suffered the
+current to carry his canoe beyond the danger-point. This morning he was
+alone on the river, having risen long before daylight to be first at the
+sport.</p>
+
+<p>The riffles were full of salmon, big, lusty fellows, who glided about
+the canoe on every side in an endless silver stream. Waukewa plunged his
+spear right and left, and tossed one glittering victim after another
+into the bark canoe. So absorbed in the sport was he that for once he
+did not notice when the canoe began to glide more swiftly among the
+rocks. But suddenly he looked up, caught his paddle, and dipped it
+wildly in the swirling water. The canoe swung sidewise, shivered, held
+its own against the torrent, and then slowly, inch by inch, began to
+creep upstream toward the shore. But suddenly there was a loud, cruel
+snap, and the paddle parted in the boy's hands, broken just above the
+blade! Waukewa gave a cry of despairing agony. Then he bent to the
+gunwale of his canoe and with the shattered blade fought desperately
+against the current. But it was useless. The racing torrent swept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> him
+downward; the hungry falls roared tauntingly in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Indian boy knelt calmly upright in the canoe, facing the mist
+of the falls, and folded his arms. His young face was stern and lofty.
+He had lived like a brave hitherto&mdash;now he would die like one.</p>
+
+<p>Faster and faster sped the doomed canoe toward the great cataract. The
+black rocks glided away on either side like phantoms. The roar of the
+terrible waters became like thunder in the boy's ears. But still he
+gazed calmly and sternly ahead, facing his fate as a brave Indian
+should. At last he began to chant the death-song, which he had learned
+from the older braves. In a few moments all would be over. But he would
+come before the Great Spirit with a fearless hymn upon his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a shadow fell across the canoe. Waukewa lifted his eyes and saw
+a great eagle hovering over, with dangling legs, and a spread of wings
+that blotted out the sun. Once more the eyes of the Indian boy and the
+eagle met; and now it was the eagle who was master!</p>
+
+<p>With a glad cry the Indian boy stood up in his canoe, and the eagle
+hovered lower. Now the canoe tossed up on that great swelling wave that
+climbs to the cataract's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> edge, and the boy lifted his hands and caught
+the legs of the eagle. The next moment he looked down into the awful
+gulf of waters from its very verge. The canoe was snatched from beneath
+him and plunged down the black wall of the cataract; but he and the
+struggling eagle were floating outward and downwards through the cloud
+of mist. The cataract roared terribly, like a wild beast robbed of its
+prey. The spray beat and blinded, the air rushed upward as they fell.
+But the eagle struggled on with his burden. He fought his way out of the
+mist and the flying spray. His great wings threshed the air with a
+whistling sound. Down, down they sank, the boy and the eagle, but ever
+farther from the precipice of water and the boiling whirlpool below. At
+length, with a fluttering plunge, the eagle dropped on a sand-bar below
+the whirlpool, and he and the Indian boy lay there a minute, breathless
+and exhausted. Then the eagle slowly lifted himself, took the air under
+his free wings, and soared away, while the Indian boy knelt on the sand,
+with shining eyes following the great bird till he faded into the gray
+of the cliffs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+<h2><br /><br /><a name="HALLOWEEN_AND_MYSTERY_STORIES" id="HALLOWEEN_AND_MYSTERY_STORIES"></a>HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES<br /><br /></h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/24s-245.jpg" width="368" height="450" alt="THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_ROLL-CALL_OF_THE_REEF19" id="THE_ROLL-CALL_OF_THE_REEF19"></a>THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>"YES, sir," said my host the quarryman, reaching down the relics from
+their hook in the wall over the chimney-piece; "they've hung there all
+my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em; they're
+afraid of the story. So here they'll dangle, and gather dust and smoke,
+till another tenant comes and tosses 'em out o' doors for rubbish. Whew!
+'tis coarse weather."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat
+upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove
+past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine
+of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the
+relics on my knee. The metal of each was tarnished out of knowledge. But
+the trumpet was evidently an old cavalry trumpet, and the threads of its
+parti-colored sling, though frayed and dusty, still hung together.
+Around the side-drum, beneath its cracked brown varnish, I could hardly
+trace a royal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> coat-of-arms and a legend running, <i>Per Mare per
+Terram</i>&mdash;the motto of the Marines. Its parchment, though colored and
+scented with wood-smoke, was limp and mildewed, and I began to tighten
+up the straps&mdash;under which the drum-sticks had been loosely thrust
+&mdash;with the idle purpose of trying if some music might be got out of the
+old drum yet.</p>
+
+<p>But as I turned it on my knee, I found the drum attached to the
+trumpet-sling by a curious barrel-shaped padlock, and paused to examine
+this. The body of the lock was composed of half a dozen brass rings, set
+accurately edge to edge; and, rubbing the brass with my thumb, I saw
+that each of the six had a series of letters engraved around it.</p>
+
+<p>I knew the trick of it, I thought. Here was one of those word padlocks,
+once so common; only to be opened by getting the rings to spell a
+certain word, which the dealer confides to you.</p>
+
+<p>My host shut and barred the door, and came back to the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twas just such a wind&mdash;east by south&mdash;that brought in what you've got
+between your hands. Back in the year 'nine it was; my father has told me
+the tale a score o' times. You're twisting round the rings, I see. But
+you'll never guess the word. Parson Kendall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> he made the word, and
+knocked down a couple o' ghosts in their graves with it, and when his
+time came, he went to his own grave and took the word with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Whose ghosts, Matthew?"</p>
+
+<p>"You want the story, I see, sir. My father could tell it better than I
+can. He was a young man in the year 'nine, unmarried at the time, and
+living in this very cottage just as I be. That's how he came to get
+mixed up with the tale."</p>
+
+<p>He took a chair, lit a short pipe, and unfolded the story in a low
+musing voice, with his eyes fixed on the dancing violet flames.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he'd ha' been about thirty year old in January of the year 'nine.
+The storm got up in the night o' the twenty-first o' that month. My
+father was dressed and out long before daylight; he never was one to
+'bide in bed, let be that the gale by this time was pretty near lifting
+the thatch over his head. Besides which, he'd fenced a small 'taty-patch
+that winter, down by Lowland Point, and he wanted to see if it stood the
+night's work. He took the path across Gunner's Meadow&mdash;where they buried
+most of the bodies afterward. The wind was right in his teeth at the
+time, and once on the way (he's told me this often) a great strip of
+ore-weed came flying through the darkness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> and fetched him a slap on the
+cheek like a cold hand. But he made shift pretty well till he got to
+Lowland, and then had to drop upon his hands and knees and crawl,
+digging his fingers every now and then into the shingle to hold on, for
+he declared to me that the stones, some of them as big as a man's head,
+kept rolling and driving past till it seemed the whole foreshore was
+moving westward under him. The fence was gone, of course; not a stick
+left to show where it stood; so that, when first he came to the place,
+he thought he must have missed his bearings. My father, sir, was a very
+religious man; and if he reckoned the end of the world was at
+hand&mdash;there in the great wind and night, among the moving stones&mdash;you
+may believe he was certain of it when he heard a gun fired, and, with
+the same, saw a flame shoot up out of the darkness to windward, making a
+sudden fierce light in all the place about. All he could find to think
+or say was, 'The Second Coming&mdash;The Second Coming! The Bridegroom
+cometh, and the wicked He will toss like a ball into a large country!'
+and being already upon his knees, he just bowed his head and 'bided,
+saying this over and over.</p>
+
+<p>"But by'm-by, between two squalls, he made bold to lift his head and
+look, and then by the light&mdash;a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> bluish color 'twas&mdash;he saw all the coast
+clear away to Manacle Point, and off the Manacles, in the thick of the
+weather, a sloop-of-war with top-gallants housed, driving stern foremost
+toward the reef. It was she, of course, that was burning the flare. My
+father could see the white streak and the ports of her quite plain as
+she rose to it, a little outside the breakers, and he guessed easy
+enough that her captain had just managed to wear ship, and was trying to
+force her nose to the sea with the help of her small bower anchor and
+the scrap or two of canvas that hadn't yet been blown out of her. But
+while he looked, she fell off, giving her broadside to it foot by foot,
+and drifting back on the breakers around Carn du and the Varses. The
+rocks lie so thick thereabouts, that 'twas a toss up which she struck
+first; at any rate, my father couldn't tell at the time, for just then
+the flare died down and went out.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, he turned then in the dark and started back for Coverack to
+cry the dismal tidings&mdash;though well knowing ship and crew to be past any
+hope; and as he turned, the wind lifted him and tossed him forward 'like
+a ball,' as he'd been saying, and homeward along the foreshore. As you
+know, 'tis ugly work, even by daylight, picking your way among the
+stones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> there, and my father was prettily knocked about at first in the
+dark. But by this 'twas nearer seven than six o'clock, and the day
+spreading. By the time he reached North Corner, a man could see to read
+print; hows'ever he looked neither out to sea nor toward Coverack, but
+headed straight for the first cottage&mdash;the same that stands above North
+Corner to-day. A man named Billy Ede lived there then, and when my
+father burst into the kitchen bawling, 'Wreck! wreck!' he saw Billy
+Ede's wife, Ann, standing there in her clogs, with a shawl over her
+head, and her clothes wringing wet.</p>
+
+<p>"'Save the chap!' says Billy Ede's wife, Ann. 'What d' 'ee means by
+crying stale fish at that rate?'</p>
+
+<p>"'But 'tis a wreck. I tell 'ee. I've azeed'n!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, so 'tis,' says she, 'and I've azeed'n, too; and so has every one
+with an eye in his head.'</p>
+
+<p>"And with that she pointed straight over my father's shoulder, and he
+turned: and there, close under Dolor Point, at the end of Coverack town,
+he saw another wreck washing, and the Point black with people, like
+emmets, running to and fro in the morning light. While we stood staring
+at her, he heard a trumpet sounded on board, the notes coming in little
+jerks, like a bird rising against the wind; but faintly, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> course,
+because of the distance and the gale blowing&mdash;though this had dropped a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>"'She's a transport,' said Billy Ede's wife, Ann, 'and full of horse
+soldiers, fine long men. When she struck they must ha' pitched the
+hosses over first to lighten the ship, for a score of dead hosses had
+washed in afore I left, half an hour back. An' three or four soldiers,
+too&mdash;fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of blue and gold. I
+held the lantern to one. Such a straight young man.'</p>
+
+<p>"My father asked her about the trumpeting.</p>
+
+<p>"'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me an' my
+man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone; whether they
+were carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't rightly know.
+Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rocks with her decks bare. Her keelson
+was broke under her and her bottom sagged and stove, and she had just
+settled down like a sitting hen&mdash;just the leastest list to starboard;
+but a man could stand there easy. They had rigged up ropes across her,
+from bulwark to bulwark, an' beside these the men were mustered, holding
+on like grim death whenever the sea made a clean breach over them, an'
+standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the
+officers were clinging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their
+golden uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they
+expected. There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of
+line, though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a
+trumpeter, a whacking big man, an' between the heavy seas he would lift
+his trumpet with one hand, and blow a call; and every time he blew the
+men gave a cheer. There (she says)&mdash;hark 'ee now&mdash;there he goes agen!
+But you won't hear no cheering any more, for few are left to cheer, and
+their voices weak. Bitter cold the wind is, and I reckon it numbs their
+grip o' the ropes, for they were dropping off fast with every sea when
+my man sent me home to get his breakfast. Another wreck, you say? Well,
+there's no hope for the tender dears, if 'tis the Manacles. You'd better
+run down and help yonder; though 'tis little help that any man can give.
+Not one came in alive while I was there. The tide's flowing, an' she
+won't hold together another hour, they say.'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sure enough, the end was coming fast when my father got down to
+the point. Six men had been cast up alive, or just breathing&mdash;a seaman
+and five troopers. The seaman was the only one that had breath to speak;
+and while they were carrying him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> into the town, the word went round
+that the ship's name was the Despatch, transport, homeward bound from
+Corunna, with a detachment of the 7th Hussars, that had been fighting
+out there with Sir John Moore. The seas had rolled her farther over by
+this time, and given her decks a pretty sharp slope; but a dozen men
+still held on, seven by the ropes near the ship's waist, a couple near
+the break of the poop, and three on the quarter-deck. Of these three my
+father made out one to be the skipper; close by him clung an officer in
+full regimentals&mdash;his name, they heard after, was Captain Duncanfield;
+and last came the tall trumpeter; and if you'll believe me, the fellow
+was making shift there, at the very last, to blow <i>'God Save the King.'</i>
+What's more, he got to <i>'Send Us Victorious'</i> before an extra big sea
+came bursting across and washed them off the deck&mdash;every man but one of
+the pair beneath the poop&mdash;and <i>he</i> dropped his hold before the next
+wave; being stunned, I reckon. The others went out of sight at once, but
+the trumpeter&mdash;being, as I said, a powerful man as well as a tough
+swimmer&mdash;rose like a duck, rode out a couple of breakers, and came in on
+the crest of the third. The folks looked to see him broke like an egg at
+their feet; but when the smother cleared, there he was, lying face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
+downward on a ledge below them; and one of the men that happened to have
+a rope round him&mdash;I forget the fellow's name, if I ever heard it&mdash;jumped
+down and grabbed him by the ankle as he began to slip back. Before the
+next big sea, the pair were hauled high enough to be out of harm, and
+another heave brought them up to grass. Quick work; but master trumpeter
+wasn't quite dead! nothing worse than a cracked head and three staved
+ribs. In twenty minutes or so they had him in bed, with the doctor to
+tend him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now was the time&mdash;nothing being left alive upon the transport&mdash;for my
+father to tell of the sloop he'd seen driving upon the Manacles. And
+when he got a hearing, though the most were set upon salvage, and
+believed a wreck in the hand, so to say, to be worth half a dozen they
+couldn't see, a good few volunteered to start off with him and have a
+look. They crossed Lowland Point; no ship to be seen on the Manacles,
+nor anywhere upon the sea. One or two was for calling my father a liar.
+'Wait till we come to Dean Point,' said he. Sure enough, on the far side
+of Dean Point, they found the sloop's mainmast washing about with half a
+dozen men lashed to it&mdash;men in red jackets&mdash;every mother's son drowned
+and staring; and a little farther on, just under the Dean,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> three or
+four bodies cast up on the shore, one of them a small drummer-boy,
+side-drum and all; and, near by, part of a ship's gig, with 'H. M. S.
+Primrose' cut on the stern-board. From this point on, the shore was
+littered thick with wreckage and dead bodies&mdash;the most of them marines
+in uniform; and in Godrevy Cove in particular, a heap of furniture from
+the captain's cabin, and among it a water-tight box, not much damaged,
+and full of papers, by which, when it came to be examined next day, the
+wreck was easily made out to be the Primrose of eighteen guns, outward
+bound from Portsmouth, with a fleet of transports for the Spanish War,
+thirty sail, I've heard, but I've never heard what became of them. Being
+handled by merchant skippers, no doubt they rode out the gale and
+reached the Tagus safe and sound. Not but what the captain of the
+Primrose (Mein was his name) did quite right to try and club-haul his
+vessel when he found himself under the land; only he never ought to have
+got there if he took proper soundings. But it's easy talking.</p>
+
+<p>"The Primrose, sir, was a handsome vessel&mdash;for her size, one of the
+handsomest in the King's service&mdash;and newly fitted out at Plymouth Dock.
+So the boys had brave pickings from her in the way of brass-work,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+ship's instruments, and the like, let alone some barrels of stores not
+much spoiled. They loaded themselves with as much as they could carry,
+and started for home, meaning to make a second journey before the
+preventive men got wind of their doings and came to spoil the fun. But
+as my father was passing back under the Dean, he happened to take a look
+over his shoulder at the bodies there. 'Hullo,' says he, and dropped his
+gear, 'I do believe there's a leg moving!' And, running fore, he stooped
+over the small drummer-boy that I told you about. The poor little chap
+was lying there, with his face a mass of bruises and his eyes closed:
+but he had shifted one leg an inch or two, and was still breathing. So
+my father pulled out a knife and cut him free from his drum&mdash;that was
+lashed on to him with a double turn of Manilla rope&mdash;and took him up and
+carried him along here, to this very room that we're sitting in. He lost
+a good deal by this, for when he went back to fetch his bundle the
+preventive men had got hold of it, and were thick as thieves along the
+foreshore; so that 'twas only by paying one or two to look the other way
+that he picked up anything worth carrying off: which you'll allow to be
+hard, seeing that he was the first man to give news of the wreck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, the inquiry was held, of course, and my father gave evidence, and
+for the rest they had to trust to the sloop's papers, for not a soul was
+saved besides the drummer-boy, and he was raving in a fever, brought on
+by the cold and the fright. And the seamen and the five troopers gave
+evidence about the loss of the Despatch. The tall trumpeter, too, whose
+ribs were healing, came forward and kissed the book; but somehow his
+head had been hurt in coming ashore, and he talked foolish-like, and
+'twas easy seen he would never be a proper man again. The others were
+taken up to Plymouth, and so went their ways; but the trumpeter stayed
+on in Coverick; and King George, finding he was fit for nothing, sent
+him down a trifle of a pension after a while&mdash;enough to keep him in
+board and lodging, with a bit of tobacco over.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the first time that this man&mdash;William Tallifer, he called
+himself&mdash;met with the drummer-boy, was about a fortnight after the
+little chap had bettered enough to be allowed a short walk out of doors,
+which he took, if you please, in full regimentals. There never was a
+soldier so proud of his dress. His own suit had shrunk a brave bit with
+the salt water; but into ordinary frock an' corduroys he declared he
+would not get&mdash;not if he had to go naked the rest of his life;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> so my
+father, being a good-natured man and handy with the needle, turned to
+and repaired damages with a piece or two of scarlet cloth cut from the
+jacket of one of the drowned Marines. Well, the poor little chap chanced
+to be standing, in this rig-out, down by the gate of Gunner's Meadow,
+where they had buried two-score and over of his comrades. The morning
+was a fine one, early in March month; and along came the cracked
+trumpeter, likewise taking a stroll.</p>
+
+<p>"'Hullo!' says he; 'good-mornin'! And what might you be doin' here?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I was a-wishin',' says the boy, 'I had a pair o' drumsticks. Our lads
+were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a musket fired;
+and that's not Christian burial for British soldiers.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Phut!' says the trumpeter, and spat on the ground; 'a parcel of
+Marines!'</p>
+
+<p>"The boy eyed him a second or so, but answered up: 'If I'd a tab of turf
+handy, I'd bung it at your mouth, you greasy cavalryman, and learn you
+to speak respectful of your betters. The Marines are the handiest body
+of men in the service.'</p>
+
+<p>"The trumpeter looked down on him from the height of six foot two, and
+asked: 'Did they die well?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first,
+and some of the men began to cry, and a few to strip off their clothes.
+But when the ship fell off for the last time, Captain Mein turned and
+said something to Major Griffiths, the commanding officer on board, and
+the Major called out to me to beat to quarters. It might have been for a
+wedding, he sang it out so cheerful. We'd had word already that 'twas to
+be parade order, and the men fell in as trim and decent as if they were
+going to church. One or two even tried to shave at the last moment. The
+Major wore his medals. One of the seamen, seeing that I had hard work to
+keep the drum steady&mdash;the sling being a bit loose for me and the wind
+what you remember&mdash;lashed it tight with a piece of rope; and that saved
+my life afterward, a drum being as good as a cork until it's stove. I
+kept beating away until every man was on deck; and then the Major formed
+them up and told them to die like British soldiers, and the chaplain
+read a prayer or two&mdash;the boys standin' all the while like rocks, each
+man's courage keeping up the other's. The chaplain was in the middle of
+a prayer when she struck. In ten minutes she was gone. That was how they
+died, cavalryman.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'And that was very well done, drummer of the Marines. What's your
+name?'</p>
+
+<p>"'John Christian.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Mine's William George Tallifer, trumpeter, of the 7th Light
+Dragoons&mdash;the Queen's Own. I played <i>'God Save the King'</i> while our men
+were drowning. Captain Duncanfield told me to sound a call or two, to
+put them in heart; but that matter of <i>'God Save the King'</i> was a notion
+of my own. I won't say anything to hurt the feelings of a Marine, even
+if he's not much over five foot tall; but the Queen's Own Hussars is a
+tearin' fine regiment. As between horse and foot 'tis a question o'
+which gets the chance. All the way from Sahagun to Corunna 'twas we that
+took and gave the knocks&mdash;at Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.' (The
+reason, sir, I can speak the names so pat is that my father learnt 'em
+by heart afterward from the trumpeter, who was always talking about
+Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.) 'We made the rearguard, under General
+Paget, and drove the French every time; and all the infantry did was to
+sit about in wine-shops till we whipped 'em out, an' steal an' straggle
+an' play the tom-fool in general. And when it came to a stand-up fight
+at Corunna, 'twas we that had to stay sea-sick aboard the transports,
+an' watch the infantry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> in the thick o' the caper. Very well they
+behaved, too; 'specially the 4th Regiment, an' the 42d Highlanders, an'
+the Dirty Half-Hundred. Oh, ay; they're decent regiments, all three. But
+the Queen's Own Hussars is a tearin' fine regiment. So you played on
+your drum when the ship was goin' down? Drummer John Christian, I'll
+have to get you a new pair o' drum-sticks for that.'</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, it appears that the very next day the trumpeter marched into
+Helston, and got a carpenter there to turn him a pair of box-wood
+drum-sticks for the boy. And this was the beginning of one of the most
+curious friendships you ever heard tell of. Nothing delighted the pair
+more than to borrow a boat of my father and pull out to the rocks where
+the Primrose and the Despatch had struck and sunk; and on still days
+'twas pretty to hear them out there off the Manacles, the drummer
+playing his tattoo&mdash;for they always took their music with them&mdash;and the
+trumpeter practising calls, and making his trumpet speak like an angel.
+But if the weather turned roughish, they'd be walking together and
+talking; leastwise, the youngster listened while the other discoursed
+about Sir John's campaign in Spain and Portugal, telling how each little
+skirmish befell; and of Sir John himself, and General<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> Baird and General
+Paget, and Colonel Vivian his own commanding officer, and what kind men
+they were; and of the last bloody stand-up at Corunna, and so forth, as
+if neither could have enough.</p>
+
+<p>"But all this had to come to an end in the late summer, for the boy,
+John Christian, being now well and strong again, must go up to Plymouth
+to report himself. 'Twas his own wish (for I believe King George had
+forgotten all about him), but his friend wouldn't hold him back. As for
+the trumpeter, my father had made an arrangement to take him on as a
+lodger as soon as the boy left; and on the morning fixed for the start
+he was up at the door here by five o'clock, with his trumpet slung by
+his side, and all the rest of his belongings in a small valise. A Monday
+morning it was, and after breakfast he had fixed to walk with the boy
+some way on the road toward Helston, where the coach started. My father
+left them at breakfast together, and went out to meat the pig, and do a
+few odd morning jobs of that sort. When he came back, the boy was still
+at table, and the trumpeter standing here by the chimney-place with the
+drum and trumpet in his hands, hitched together just as they be at this
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"'Look at this,' he says to my father, showing him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> the lock; 'I picked
+it up off a starving brass-worker in Lisbon, and it is not one of your
+common locks that one word of six letters will open at any time. There's
+<i>janius</i> in this lock; for you've only to make the ring spell any
+six-letter word you please, and snap down the lock upon that, and never
+a soul can open it&mdash;not the maker, even&mdash;until somebody comes along that
+knows the word you snapped it on. Now, Johnny, here's goin', and he
+leaves his drum behind him; for, though he can make pretty music on it,
+the parchment sags in wet weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at
+it; an' if he carries it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give
+him another. And as for me, I shan't have the heart to put lip to the
+trumpet any more when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together,
+and locked 'em together upon that; and, by your leave, I'll hang 'em
+here together on the hook over your fireplace. Maybe Johnny'll come
+back; maybe not. Maybe, if he comes, I'll be dead an' gone, an' he'll
+take 'em apart an' try their music for old sake's sake. But if he never
+comes, nobody can separate 'em; for nobody besides knows the word. And
+if you marry and have sons, you can tell 'em that here are tied together
+the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer, of the Marines, and William
+George Tallifer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> once trumpeter of the Queen's Own Hussars. Amen.'</p>
+
+<p>"With that he hung the two instruments 'pon the hook there; and the boy
+stood up and thanked my father and shook hands; and the pair went forth
+of the door, toward Helston.</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhere on the road they took leave of one another; but nobody saw
+the parting, nor heard what was said between them. About three in the
+afternoon the trumpeter came walking back over the hill; and by the time
+my father came home from the fishing, the cottage was tidied up and the
+tea ready, and the whole place shining like a new pin. From that time
+for five years he lodged here with my father, looking after the house
+and tilling the garden; and all the while he was steadily failing, the
+hurt in his head spreading, in a manner, to his limbs. My father watched
+the feebleness growing on him, but said nothing. And from first to last
+neither spake a word about the drummer, John Christian; nor did any
+letter reach them, nor word of his doings.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"The rest of the tale you'm free to believe, sir, or not, as you
+please. It stands upon my father's words, and he always declared he
+was ready to kiss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> the Book upon it before judge and jury. He said,
+too, that he never had the wit to make up such a yarn; and he
+defied any one to explain about the lock, in particular, by any
+other tale. But you shall judge for yourself.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"My father said that about three o'clock in the morning, April
+fourteenth of the year 'fourteen, he and William Tallifer were sitting
+here, just as you and I, sir, are sitting now. My father had put on his
+clothes a few minutes before, and was mending his spiller by the light
+of the horn lantern, meaning to set off before daylight to haul the
+trammel. The trumpeter hadn't been to bed at all. Toward the last he
+mostly spent his nights (and his days, too) dozing in the elbow-chair
+where you sit at this minute. He was dozing then (my father said), with
+his chin dropped forward on his chest, when a knock sounded upon the
+door, and the door opened, and in walked an upright young man in scarlet
+regimentals.</p>
+
+<p>"He had grown a brave bit, and his face was the color of wood-ashes; but
+it was the drummer, John Christian. Only his uniform was different from
+the one he used to wear, and the figures '38' shone in brass upon his
+collar.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The drummer walked past my father as if he never saw him, and stood by
+the elbow-chair and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'Trumpeter, trumpeter, are you one with me?'</p>
+
+<p>"And the trumpeter just lifted the lids of his eyes, and answered, 'How
+should I not be one with you, drummer Johnny&mdash;Johnny boy? The men are
+patient. 'Til you come, I count; you march, I mark time until the
+discharge comes.'</p>
+
+<p>"'The discharge has come to-night,' said the drummer, 'and the word is
+Corunna no longer;' and stepping to the chimney-place, he unhooked the
+drum and trumpet, and began to twist the brass rings of the lock,
+spelling the word aloud, so&mdash;C-O-R-U-N-A. When he had fixed the last
+letter, the padlock opened in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"'Did you know, trumpeter, that when I came to Plymouth they put me into
+a line regiment.'</p>
+
+<p>"'The 38th is a good regiment,' answered the old Hussar, still in his
+dull voice. 'I went back with them from Sahagun to Corunna. At Corunna
+they stood in General Fraser's division, on the right. They behaved
+well.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But I'd fain see the Marines again,' says the drummer, handing him the
+trumpet, 'and you&mdash;you shall call once more for the Queen's Own.
+Matthew,' he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> says, suddenly, turning on my father&mdash;and when he turned,
+my father saw for the first time that his scarlet jacket had a round
+hole by the breast-bone, and that the blood was welling there&mdash;'Matthew,
+we shall want your boat.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then my father rose on his legs like a man in a dream, while they two
+slung on, the one his drum, and t'other his trumpet. He took the
+lantern, and went quaking before them down to the shore, and they
+breathed heavily behind him; and they stepped into his boat, and my
+father pushed off.</p>
+
+<p>"'Row you first for Dolor Point,' says the drummer. So my father rowed
+them out past the white houses of Coverack to Dolor Point, and there, at
+a word, lay on his oars. And the trumpeter, William Tallifer, put his
+trumpet to his mouth and sounded the <i>Revelly</i>. The music of it was like
+rivers running.</p>
+
+<p>"'They will follow,' said the drummer. 'Matthew, pull you now for the
+Manacles.'</p>
+
+<p>"So my father pulled for the Manacles, and came to an easy close outside
+Carn du. And the drummer took his sticks and beat a tattoo, there by the
+edge of the reef; and the music of it was like a rolling chariot.</p>
+
+<p>"'That will do,' says he, breaking off; 'they will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> follow. Pull now for
+the shore under Gunner's Meadow.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then my father pulled for the shore, and ran his boat in under Gunner's
+Meadow. And they stepped out, all three, and walked up to the meadow. By
+the gate the drummer halted and began his tattoo again, looking out
+toward the darkness over the sea.</p>
+
+<p>"And while the drum beat, and my father held his breath, there came up
+out of the sea and the darkness a troop of many men, horse and foot, and
+formed up among the graves; and others rose out of the graves and formed
+up&mdash;drowned Marines with bleached faces, and pale Hussars riding their
+horses, all lean and shadowy. There was no clatter of hoofs or
+accoutrements, my father said, but a soft sound all the while, like the
+beating of a bird's wing and a black shadow lying like a pool about the
+feet of all. The drummer stood upon a little knoll just inside the gate,
+and beside him the tall trumpeter, with hand on hip, watching them
+gather; and behind them both my father, clinging to the gate. When no
+more came the drummer stopped playing, and said, 'Call the roll.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then the trumpeter stepped toward the end man of the rank and called,
+'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons,' and the man in a thin voice
+answered, 'Here!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons, how is it with you?'</p>
+
+<p>"The man answered, 'How should it be with me? When I was young, I
+betrayed a girl; and when I was grown, I betrayed a friend, and for
+these things I must pay. But I died as a man ought. God save the King!'</p>
+
+<p>"The trumpeter called to the next man, 'Trooper Henry Buckingham', and
+the next man answered, 'Here!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Trooper Henry Buckingham, how is it with you?'</p>
+
+<p>"'How should it be with me? I was a drunkard, and I stole, and in Lugo,
+in a wine-shop, I knifed a man. But I died as a man should. God save the
+King!'</p>
+
+<p>"So the trumpeter went down the line; and when he had finished, the
+drummer took it up, hailing the dead Marines in their order. Each man
+answered to his name, and each man ended with 'God save the King!' When
+all were hailed, the drummer stepped back to his mound, and called:</p>
+
+<p>"'It is well. You are content, and we are content to join you. Wait yet
+a little while.'</p>
+
+<p>"With this he turned and ordered my father to pick up the lantern, and
+lead the way back. As my father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> picked it up, he heard the ranks of
+dead men cheer and call, 'God save the King!' all together, and saw them
+waver and fade back into the dark, like a breath fading off a pane.</p>
+
+<p>"But when they came back here to the kitchen, and my father set the
+lantern down, it seemed they'd both forgot about him. For the drummer
+turned in the lantern-light&mdash;and my father could see the blood still
+welling out of the hole in his breast&mdash;and took the trumpet-sling from
+around the other's neck, and locked drum and trumpet together again,
+choosing the letters on the lock very carefully. While he did this he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an "n" in
+Corunna, so must I leave out an "n" in Bayonne.' And before snapping the
+padlock, he spelt out the word slowly&mdash;'B-A-Y-O-N-E.' After that, he
+used no more speech; but turned and hung the two instruments back on the
+hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm; and the pair walked out
+into the darkness, glancing neither to right nor left.</p>
+
+<p>"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of sigh
+behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the very
+trumpeter he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> just seen walk out by the door! If my father's heart
+jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now. But after a bit,
+he went up to the man asleep in the chair, and put a hand upon him. It
+was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he touched; but though the
+flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father was
+minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it). But the day
+after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from Helston market: and
+the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news the coach brought down
+this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father. 'Why, that peace is agreed
+upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father. 'Not soon enough for our poor
+lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered. 'Bayonne!' cries my father, with
+a jump. 'Why, yes;' and the parson told him all about a great sally the
+French had made on the night of April 13th. 'Do you happen to know if
+the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said
+Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the campaign. But,
+as it happens, I <i>do</i> know that the 38th was engaged, for 'twas they
+that held a cottage and stopped the French advance.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked into
+Helston and bought a <i>Mercury</i> off the Sherborne rider, and got the
+landlord of the Angel to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure
+enough, there among the killed was Drummer John Christian, of the 38th
+Foot.</p>
+
+<p>"After this there was nothing for a religious man but to make a clean
+breast. So my father went up to Parson Kendall and told the whole story.
+The parson listened, and put a question or two, and then asked:</p>
+
+<p>"'Have you tried to open the lock since that night?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I han't dared to touch it,' says my father.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then come along and try.' When the parson came to the cottage here, he
+took the things off the hook and tried the lock. 'Did he say
+<i>"Bayonne"?</i> The word has seven letters.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Not if you spell it with one "n" as <i>he</i> did,' says my father.</p>
+
+<p>"The parson spelt it out&mdash;B-A-Y-O-N-E. 'Whew!' says he, for the lock had
+fallen open in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"He stood considering it a moment, and then he said, 'I tell you what. I
+shouldn't blab this all round the parish, if I was you. You won't get no
+credit for truth-telling, and a miracle's wasted on a set of fools. But
+if you like, I'll shut down the lock again upon a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> holy word that no one
+but me shall know, and neither drummer nor trumpeter, dead nor alive,
+shall frighten the secret out of me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I wish to gracious you would, parson,' said my father.</p>
+
+<p>"The parson chose the holy word there and then, and shut the lock back
+upon it, and hung the drum and trumpet back in their place. He is gone
+long since, taking the word with him. And till the lock is broken by
+force, nobody will ever separate those twain."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;">
+<img src="images/24s-277.jpg" width="376" height="450" alt="HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="HOW_JAN_BREWER_WAS_PISKEY-LADEN20" id="HOW_JAN_BREWER_WAS_PISKEY-LADEN20"></a>HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>THE moon was near her setting as a tall, broad-shouldered man called
+Jan Brewer was walking home to Constantine Bay to his cottage on the
+edge of the cliff.</p>
+
+<p>He was singing an old song to himself as he went along, and he sang till
+he drew near the ruins of Constantine Church, standing on a sandy common
+near the bay. As he drew near the remains of this ancient church, which
+were clearly seen in the moonshine, he thought he heard some one
+laughing, but he was not quite sure, for the sea was roaring on the
+beach below the common, and the waves were making a loud noise as they
+dashed up the great headland of Trevose.</p>
+
+<p>"I was mistaken; 'twas nobody laughing," said Jan to himself, and he
+walked on again, singing as before; and he sang till he came near a
+gate, which opened into a field leading to his cottage, but when he got
+there he could not see the gate or the gateway.</p>
+
+<p>"I was so taken up with singing the old song, that I must have missed my
+way," he said again to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>self. "I'll go back to the head of the common
+and start afresh," which he did; and when he got to the place where his
+gate ought to have been, he could not find it to save his life.</p>
+
+<p>"I must be clean <i>mazed</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> he cried. "I have never got out of my
+reckoning before, nor missed finding my way to our gate, even when the
+night has been as dark as pitch. It isn't at all dark to-night; I can
+see Trevose Head&mdash;and yet I can't see my own little gate! But I en't
+a-going to be done; I'll go round and round this common till I <i>do</i> find
+my gate."</p>
+
+<p>And round and round the common he went, but find his gate he could not.</p>
+
+<p>Every time he passed the ruins of the church a laugh came up from the
+pool below the ruins, and once he thought he saw a dancing light on the
+edge of the pool, where a lot of reeds and rushes were growing.</p>
+
+<p>"The Little Man in the Lantern is about to-night,"<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> he said to
+himself, as he glanced at the pool. "But I never knew he was given to
+laughing before."</p>
+
+<p>Once more he went round the common, and when he had passed the ruins he
+heard giggling and laugh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>ing, this time quite close to him; and looking
+down on the grass, he saw to his astonishment hundreds of Little Men and
+Little Women with tiny lights in their hands, which they were
+<i>flinking</i><a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> about as they laughed and giggled.</p>
+
+<p>The Little Men wore stocking-caps, the color of ripe briar berries, and
+grass-green coats, and the Little Women had on old grandmother cloaks of
+the same vivid hue as the Wee Men's coats, and they also wore little
+scarlet hoods.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe the great big chap sees us," said one of the Little Men,
+catching sight of Jan's astonished face. "He must be Piskey-eyed, and we
+did not know it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he really?" cried one of the <i>Dinky</i><a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> Women. "'Tis a pity, but
+we'll have our game over him just the same."</p>
+
+<p>"That we will," cried all the Little Men and Little Women in one voice;
+and, forming a ring round the great tall fellow, they began to dance
+round him, laughing, giggling and flashing up their lights as they
+danced.</p>
+
+<p>They went round him so fast that poor Jan was quite bewildered, and
+whichever way he looked there were these Little Men and Little Women
+giggling up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> into his bearded face. And when he tried to break through
+their ring they went before him and behind him, making a game over him.</p>
+
+<p>He was at their mercy and they knew it; and when they saw the great
+fellow's misery, they only laughed and giggled the more.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got him!" they cried to each other, and they said it with such
+gusto and with such a comical expression on their tiny brown faces, that
+Jan, bewildered as he was, and tired with going round the common so many
+times, could not help laughing, they looked so very funny, particularly
+when the Little Women winked up at him from under their little scarlet
+hoods.</p>
+
+<p>The Piskeys&mdash;for they were Piskeys<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a>&mdash;hurried him down the common,
+dancing round him all the time; and when he got there he felt so
+mizzy-mazey with those tiny whirling figures going round and round him
+like a whirligig, that he did not know whether he was standing on his
+head or his heels. He was also in a bath of perspiration&mdash;"sweating
+leaking," he said&mdash;and, putting his hand in his pocket to take out a
+handkerchief to mop his face, he remembered having been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> told that, if
+he ever got Piskey-laden, he must turn his coat pockets inside out,
+then he would be free at once from his Piskey tormentors. And
+in a minute or less his coat-pockets were hanging out, and all the
+Little Men and the Little Women had vanished, and there, right in front
+of him, he saw his own gate! He lost no time in opening it, and in a
+very short time was in his thatched cottage on the cliff.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;">
+<img src="images/24s-285.jpg" width="375" height="450" alt="MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY" title="" />
+<span class="caption">MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="MY_GRANDFATHER_HENDRY_WATTY26" id="MY_GRANDFATHER_HENDRY_WATTY26"></a>MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></h2>
+
+<h4>A DROLL</h4>
+
+
+<p>'TIS the nicest miss in the world that I was born grandson of my own
+father's father, and not of another man altogether.</p>
+
+<p>Hendry Watty was the name of my grandfather that might have been; and he
+always maintained that to all intents and purposes he <i>was</i> my
+grandfather, and made me call him so&mdash;'twas such a narrow shave. I don't
+mind telling you about it. 'Tis a curious tale, too.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>My grandfather, Hendry Watty, bet four gallons of eggy-hot that he would
+row out to the Shivering Grounds, all in the dead waste of the night,
+and haul a trammel there. To find the Shivering Grounds by night, you
+get the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna and pull out till you open
+the light on St. Anthony's Point; but everybody gives the place a wide
+berth because Archelaus Rowett's lugger foundered there one time, with
+six hands on board; and they say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> that at night you can hear the drowned
+men hailing their names. But my grandfather was the boldest man in Port
+Loe, and said he didn't care. So one Christmas Eve by daylight he and
+his mates went out and tilled the trammel; and then they came back and
+spent the forepart of the evening over the eggy-hot, down to Oliver's
+tiddly-wink,<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> to keep my grandfather's spirits up and also to show
+that the bet was made in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>'Twas past eleven o'clock when they left Oliver's and walked down to the
+cove to see my grandfather off. He has told me since that he didn't feel
+afraid at all, but very friendly in mind, especially toward William John
+Dunn, who was walking on his right hand. This puzzled him at the first,
+for as a rule he didn't think much of William John Dunn. But now he
+shook hands with him several times, and just as he was stepping into the
+boat he says, "You'll take care of Mary Polly while I'm away." Mary
+Polly Polsue was my grandfather's sweetheart at that time. But why my
+grandfather should have spoken as if he was bound on a long voyage he
+never could tell; he used to set it down to fate.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said William John Dunn; and then they gave a cheer and pushed
+my grandfather off, and he lit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> his pipe and away he rowed all into the
+dead waste of the night. He rowed and rowed, all in the dead waste the
+night; and he got the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna windows; and
+still he was rowing, when to his great surprise he heard a voice
+calling:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>I told you my grandfather was the boldest man in Port Loe. But he
+dropped his two oars now, and made the five signs of Penitence. For who
+could it be calling him out here in the dead waste and middle of the
+night?</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! <i>drop</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>me a line</i>."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>My grandfather kept his fishing-lines in a little skivet under the
+stern-sheets. But not a trace of bait had he on board. If he had, he was
+too much a-tremble to bait a hook.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! <i>drop</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>me a line, or I'll know why</i>."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>My poor grandfather had by this picked up his oars again, and was rowing
+like mad to get quit of the neighborhood, when something or somebody
+gave three knocks&mdash;<i>thump, thump, thump!</i>&mdash;on the bottom of the boat,
+just as you would knock on a door.</p>
+
+<p>The third thump fetched Hendry Watty upright on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> his legs. He had no
+more heart for disobeying, but having bitten his pipe-stem in half by
+this time&mdash;his teeth chattered so&mdash;he baited his hook with the broken
+bit and flung it overboard, letting the line run out in the stern-notch.
+Not half-way had it run before he felt a long pull on it, like the
+sucking of a dog-fish.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! pull me in."</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Hendry Watty pulled in hand over fist, and in came the lead sinker over
+the notch, and still the line was heavy; he pulled and he pulled, and
+next, all out of the dead waste of the night, came two white hands, like
+a washerwoman's, and gripped hold of the stern-board; and on the left of
+these two hands, was a silver ring, sunk very deep in the flesh. If this
+was bad, worse was the face that followed&mdash;and if this was bad for
+anybody, it was worse for my grandfather who had known Archelaus Rowett
+before he was drowned out on the Shivering Grounds, six years before.</p>
+
+<p>Archelaus Rowett climbed in over the stern, pulled the hook with the bit
+of pipe-stem out of his cheek, sat down in the stern-sheets, shook a
+small crayfish out of his whiskers, and said very coolly: "If you should
+come across my wife&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>That was all that my grandfather stayed to hear. At the sound of
+Archelaus's voice he fetched a yell, jumped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> clean over the side of the
+boat and swam for dear life. He swam and swam, till by the bit of the
+moon he saw the Gull Rock close ahead. There were lashin's of rats on
+the Gull Rock, as he knew; but he was a good deal surprised at the way
+they were behaving, for they sat in a row at the water's edge and
+fished, with their tails let down into the sea for fishing-lines; and
+their eyes were like garnets burning as they looked at my grandfather
+over their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! you can't land here&mdash;you're disturbing the
+pollack."</p>
+
+<p>"Bejimbers! I wouldn' do that for the world," says my grandfather; so
+off he pushes and swims for the mainland. This was a long job, and it
+was as much as he could do to reach Kibberick beach, where he fell on
+his face and hands among the stones, and there lay, taking breath.</p>
+
+<p>The breath was hardly back in his body before he heard footsteps, and
+along the beach came a woman, and passed close by to him. He lay very
+quiet, and as she came near he saw 'twas Sarah Rowett, that used to be
+Archelaus's wife, but had married another man since. She was knitting as
+she went by, and did not seem to notice my grandfather; but he heard her
+say to herself, "The hour is come, and the man is come."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely begun to wonder over this when he spied a ball of
+worsted yarn beside him that Sarah had dropped. 'Twas the ball she was
+knitting from, and a line of worsted stretched after her along the
+beach. Hendry Watty picked up the ball and followed the thread on
+tiptoe. In less than a minute he came near enough to watch what she was
+doing; and what she did was worth watching. First she gathered wreckwood
+and straw, and struck flint over touchwood and teened a fire. Then she
+unraveled her knitting; twisted her end of the yarn between finger and
+thumb&mdash;like a cobbler twisting a wax-end&mdash;and cast the end up towards
+the sky. It made Hendry Watty stare when the thread, instead of falling
+back to the ground, remained hanging, just as if 'twas fastened to
+something up above; but it made him stare still more when Sarah Rowett
+began to climb up it, and away up till nothing could be seen of her but
+her ankles dangling out of the dead waste and middle of the night.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY!"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It wasn't Sarah calling, but a voice far away out to sea.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! <i>send</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>me a line!"</i></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>My grandfather was wondering what to do, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> Sarah speaks down very
+sharp to him, out of the dark:</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! where's the rocket apparatus? Can't you hear the poor
+fellow asking for a line?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," says my grandfather, who was beginning to lose his temper; "and
+do you think, ma'am, that I carry a Boxer's rocket in my trousers
+pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you have a ball of worsted in your hand," says she. "Throw it
+as far as you can."</p>
+
+<p>So my grandfather threw the ball out into the dead waste and middle of
+the night. He didn't see where it pitched, or how far it went.</p>
+
+<p>"Right it is," says the woman aloft. "'Tis easy seen you're a hurler.
+But what shall us do for a cradle?<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am to <i>you,"</i> said my grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have the common feelings of a gentleman, I'll ask you to turn
+your back; I'm going to take off my stocking."</p>
+
+<p>So my grandfather stared the other way very politely; and when he was
+told he might look again, he saw she had tied the stocking to the line
+and was running it out like a cradle into the dead waste of the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could answer, plump! a man's leg came tumbling past his ear
+and scattered the ashes right and left.</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"</p>
+
+<p>This time 'twas a great white arm and hand, with a silver ring sunk
+tight in the flesh of the little finger.</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! warm them limbs!"</p>
+
+<p>My grandfather picked them up and was warming them before the fire, when
+down came tumbling a great round head and bounced twice and lay in the
+firelight, staring up at him. And whose head was it but Archelaus
+Rowett's, that he'd run away from once already that night.</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"</p>
+
+<p>This time 'twas another leg, and my grandfather was just about to lay
+hands on it, when the woman called down:</p>
+
+<p>"Hendry Watty! catch it quick! It's my own leg I've thrown down by
+mistake."</p>
+
+<p>The leg struck the ground and bounced high, and Hendry Watty made a leap
+after it.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>And I reckon it's asleep he must have been; for what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> he caught was not
+Mrs. Rowett's leg, but the jib-boom of a deep-laden brigantine that was
+running him down in the dark. And as he sprang for it, his boat was
+crushed by the brigantine's fore-foot and went down under his very
+boot-soles. At the same time he let out a yell, and two or three of the
+crew ran forward and hoisted him up to the bowsprit and in on deck, safe
+and sound.</p>
+
+<p>But the brigantine happened to be outward bound for the River Plate; so
+that, with one thing and another, 'twas eleven good months before my
+grandfather landed again at Port Loe. And who should be the first man he
+sees standing above the cove but William John Dunn.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very glad to see you," says William John Dunn.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you kindly," answers my grandfather; "and how's Mary Polly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, as for that," he says, "she took so much looking after, that I
+couldn't feel I was properly keeping her under my eye till I married
+her, last June month."</p>
+
+<p>"You was always one to over-do things," said my grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you was alive an' well, why didn' you drop us a line?"</p>
+
+<p>Now when it came to talk about "dropping a line,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> my grandfather fairly
+lost his temper. So he struck William John Dunn on the nose&mdash;a thing he
+had never been known to do before&mdash;and William John Dunn hit him back,
+and the neighbors had to separate them. And next day, William John Dunn
+took out a summons against him. Well, the case was tried before the
+magistrates: and my grandfather told his story from the beginning, quite
+straightforward, just as I've told it to you. And the magistrates
+decided that, taking one thing and another, he'd had a great deal of
+provocation, and fined him five shillings. And there the matter ended.
+But now you know the reason why I'm William John Dunn's grandson instead
+of Hendry Watty's.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 381px;">
+<img src="images/24s-297.jpg" width="381" height="450" alt="CHILDE ROWLAND" title="" />
+<span class="caption">CHILDE ROWLAND</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="CHILDE_ROWLAND29" id="CHILDE_ROWLAND29"></a>CHILDE ROWLAND<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Childe Rowland and his brothers twain</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Were playing at the ball,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And there was their sister Burd Ellen</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the midst, among them all.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And caught it with his knee;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At last as he plunged among them all</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">O'er the church he made it flee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Burd Ellen round about the aisle</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To seek the ball is gone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But long they waited, and longer still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And she came not back again.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They sought her east, they sought her west,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">They sought her up and down,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And woe were the hearts of those brethren,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For she was not to be found.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>SO at last her eldest brother went to the Warlock Merlin and told him
+all the case, and asked him if he knew where Burd Ellen was. "The fair
+Burd Ellen," said the Warlock Merlin, "must have been carried off by the
+fairies, because she went round the church 'widershins'&mdash;the opposite
+way to the sun. She is now in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland; it
+would take the boldest knight in Christendom to bring her back."</p>
+
+<p>"If it is possible to bring her back," said her brother, "I'll do it, or
+perish in the attempt."</p>
+
+<p>"Possible it is," said the Warlock Merlin, "but woe to the man or
+mother's son that attempts it, if he is not well taught beforehand what
+he is to do."</p>
+
+<p>The eldest brother of Burd Ellen was not to be put off, by any fear of
+danger, from attempting to get her back, so he begged the Warlock Merlin
+to tell him what he should do, and what he should not do, in going to
+seek his sister. And after he had been taught, and had repeated his
+lesson, he set out for Elfland.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But long they waited, and longer still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With doubt and muckle pain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But woe were the hearts of his brethren,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For he came not back again.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then the second brother got tired and tired of waiting, and he went to
+the Warlock Merlin and asked him the same as his brother. So he set out
+to find Burd Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But long they waited, and longer still,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With muckle doubt and pain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And woe were his mother's and brother's heart,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For he came not back again.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And when they had waited and waited a good long time, Childe Rowland,
+the youngest of Burd Ellen's brothers, wished to go, and went to his
+mother, the good queen, to ask her to let him go. But she would not at
+first, for he was the last and dearest of her children, and if he was
+lost, all would be lost. But he begged, and he begged, till at last the
+good queen let him go, and gave him his father's good brand that never
+struck in vain, and as she girt it round his waist, she said the spell
+that would give it victory.</p>
+
+<p>So Childe Rowland said good-by to the good queen, his mother, and went
+to the cave of the Warlock Merlin. "Once more, and but once more," he
+said to the Warlock, "tell how man or mother's son may rescue Burd Ellen
+and her brothers twain."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my son," said the Warlock Merlin, "there are but two things,
+simple they may seem, but hard they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> are to do. One thing to do, and one
+thing not to do. And the thing to do is this: after you have entered the
+land of Fairy, whoever speaks to you, till you meet the Burd Ellen, you
+must out with your father's brand and off with their head. And what
+you've not to do is this: bite no bit, and drink no drop, however hungry
+or thirsty you be; drink a drop or bite a bit, while in Elfland you be
+and never will you see Middle Earth again."</p>
+
+<p>So Childe Rowland said the two things over and over again, till he knew
+them by heart, and he thanked the Warlock Merlin and went on his way.
+And he went along, and along, and along, and still further along, till
+he came to the horse-herd of the King of Elfland feeding his horses.
+These he knew by their fiery eyes, and knew that he was at last in the
+land of Fairy. "Canst thou tell me," said Childe Rowland to the
+horse-herd, "where the King of Elfland's Dark Tower is?" "I cannot tell
+thee," said the horse-herd, "but go on a little further and thou wilt
+come to the cow-herd, and he, maybe, can tell thee."</p>
+
+<p>Then, without a word more, Childe Rowland drew the good brand that never
+struck in vain, and off went the horse-herd's head, and Childe Rowland
+went on further, till he came to the cow-herd, and asked him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> the same
+question. "I can't tell thee," said he, "but go on a little further, and
+thou wilt come to the hen-wife, and she is sure to know." Then Childe
+Rowland out with his good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went
+the cow-herd's head. And he went on a little further, till he came to an
+old woman in a gray cloak, and he asked her if she knew where the Dark
+Tower of the King of Elfland was. "Go on a little further," said the
+hen-wife, "till you come to a round green hill, surrounded with
+terrace-rings, from the bottom to the top; go round it three times,
+'widershins,' and each time say:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"'Open, door! open, door!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And let me come in,'</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." And Childe
+Rowland was just going on, when he remembered what he had to do; so he
+out with the good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went the
+hen-wife's head.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went on, and on, and on, till he came to the round green hill
+with the terrace-rings from top to bottom, and he went round it three
+times, "widershins," saying each time:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Open, door! open, door!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And let me come in."</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And the third time the door did open, and he went in, and it closed with
+a click, and Childe Rowland was left in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were
+neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the
+twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof. There were rough
+arches made of a transparent rock, incrusted with sheepsilver and rock
+spar, and other bright stones. But though it was rock, the air was quite
+warm, as it always is in Elfland. So he went through this passage till
+at last he came to two wide and high folding-doors which stood ajar. And
+when he opened them, there he saw a most wonderful and glorious sight. A
+large and spacious hall, so large that it seemed to be as long, and as
+broad, as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by fine pillars,
+so large and lofty, that the pillars of a cathedral were as nothing to
+them. They were all of gold and silver, with fretted work, and between
+them and around them wreaths of flowers, composed of what do you think?
+Why, of diamonds and emeralds, and all manner of precious stones. And
+the very key-stones of the arches had for ornaments clusters of diamonds
+and rubies, and pearls, and other precious stones. And all these arches
+met in the middle of the roof, and just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> there, hung by a gold chain, an
+immense lamp made out of one big pearl hollowed out and quite
+transparent. And in the middle of this was a big, huge carbuncle, which
+kept spinning round and round, and this was what gave light by its rays
+to the whole hall, which seemed as if the setting sun was shining on it.</p>
+
+<p>The hall was furnished in a manner equally grand, and at one end of it
+was a glorious couch of velvet, silk and gold, and there sat Burd Ellen,
+combing her golden hair with a silver comb. And when she saw Childe
+Rowland she stood up and said:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"God pity ye, poor luckless fool,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What have ye here to do?</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Hear ye this, my youngest brother,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why didn't ye bide at home?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Had you a hundred thousand lives</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye couldn't spare any a one.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"But sit ye down; but woe, O, woe,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That ever ye were born,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For come the King of Elfland in,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Your fortune is forlorn."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Then they sat down together, and Childe Rowland told her all that he had
+done, and she told him how their two brothers had reached the Dark
+Tower, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> had been enchanted by the King of Elfland, and lay there
+entombed as if dead. And then after they had talked a little longer
+Childe Rowland began to feel hungry from his long travels, and told his
+sister Burd Ellen how hungry he was and asked for some food, forgetting
+all about the Warlock Merlin's warning.</p>
+
+<p>Burd Ellen looked at Childe Rowland sadly, and shook her head, but she
+was under a spell, and could not warn him. So she rose up, and went out,
+and soon brought back a golden basin full of bread and milk. Childe
+Rowland was just going to raise it to his lips, when he looked at his
+sister and remembered why he had come all that way. So he dashed the
+bowl to the ground, and said: "Not a sup will I swallow, nor a bit will
+I bite, till Burd Ellen is set free."</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment they heard the noise of some one approaching, and a
+loud voice was heard saying:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Fee, fi, fo, fum,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I smell the blood of a Christian man,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Be he dead, be he living, with my brand,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I'll dash his brains from his brain-pan."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And then the folding-doors of the hall were burst open, and the King of
+Elfland rushed in.</p>
+
+<p>"Strike, then, Bogle, if thou darest," shouted out Childe Rowland, and
+rushed to meet him with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> good brand that never yet did fail. They
+fought, and they fought, and they fought, till Childe Rowland beat the
+King of Elfland down on to his knees, and caused him to yield and beg
+for mercy. "I grant thee mercy," said Childe Rowland; "release my sister
+from thy spells and raise my brothers to life, and let us all go free,
+and thou shalt be spared." "I agree," said the Elfin King, and rising up
+he went to a chest from which he took a phial filled with a blood-red
+liquor. With this he anointed the ears, eyelids, nostrils, lips, and
+finger-tips of the two brothers, and they sprang at once into life, and
+declared that their souls had been away, but had now returned. The Elfin
+King then said some words to Burd Ellen, and she was disenchanted, and
+they all four passed out of the hall, through the long passage, and
+turned their back on the Dark Tower, never to return again. So they
+reached home, and the good queen their mother and Burd Ellen never went
+round a church "widershins"<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;">
+<img src="images/24s-309.jpg" width="374" height="450" alt="TAM O&#39; SHANTER" title="" />
+<span class="caption">TAM O&#39; SHANTER</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="TAM_O_SHANTER31" id="TAM_O_SHANTER31"></a>TAM O' SHANTER<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IT was market-day in the town of Ayr in Scotland. The farmers had come
+into town from all the country round about, to sell or exchange their
+farm produce, and buy what they needed to take home.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst these farmers was a man by the name of Tam o' Shanter; a good
+natured, happy-go-lucky sort of person, but, I am sorry to say, somewhat
+of a drunkard.</p>
+
+<p>Now Tam's wife, whose name was Kate, was a grievous scold; always
+nagging and faultfinding, and I fear making it far easier for Tam to do
+wrong than if she had treated him more kindly. However that may be, Tam
+was happier away from home; and this day had escaped his wife's scolding
+tongue, mounted his good gray mare Meg, and galloped off as fast as he
+could go to Market.</p>
+
+<p>Tam, who was bent upon having a spree, found his good friend, the
+shoemaker Johnny, and off they went to their favorite ale house; where
+they stayed telling stories and singing and drinking, till late at
+night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At last the time came to go home and Tam who had forgotten the long
+miles between him and the farm set forth, but a terrible storm had
+risen; the wind blew, the rain fell in torrents and the thunder roared
+long and loud.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fearful night, black as pitch except for the blinding flashes
+of lightning; but Tam was well mounted on his good gray mare Maggie, and
+splashed along through the wind and mire, holding on to his good blue
+bonnet, and singing aloud an old Scotch sonnet; while looking about him
+with prudent care lest the bogies catch him unawares.</p>
+
+<p>At last he drew near to the old ruined church of Alloway. For many, many
+years this old church had been roofless, but the walls were standing and
+it still retained the bell.</p>
+
+<p>For many years it was said that the ghosts and witches nightly held
+their revels there, and sometimes rang the old bell. As Tam was crossing
+the ford of the stream called the Doon, which flowed nearby, he looked
+up at the old church on the hillside above him, and behold! it was all
+ablaze with lights, and sounds of mirth and dancing reached his ears.</p>
+
+<p>Now Tam had been made fearless by old John Barleycorn, and he made good
+Maggie take him close to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> the church so that he could look inside, and
+there he saw the weirdest sight&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Witches and ghosts in a mad dance, and the music was furnished by the
+Devil himself in the shape of a beast, who played upon the bagpipes, and
+made them scream so loud that the very rafters rang with the sound.</p>
+
+<p>It was an awful sight; and as Tam looked in, amazed and curious, the fun
+and mirth grew fast and furious.</p>
+
+<p>The Piper loud and louder blew, and the dancers quick and quicker flew.</p>
+
+<p>One of the witches resembled a handsome girl that Tam had known called
+Nannie; Tam sat as one bewitched watching her as she danced, and at last
+losing his wits altogether, called out: "Weel done, Cutty-Sark!"&mdash;and in
+an instant all was dark!</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely time to turn Maggie round, when all the legion of
+witches and spirits were about him like a swarm of angry bees. As a
+crowd runs, when the cry "Catch the thief" is heard, so runs Maggie; and
+the witches follow with many an awful screech and halloo! Hurry, Meg!
+Do thy utmost! Win the keystone of the bridge, for a running stream they
+<i>dare</i> not cross! <i>Then</i> you can toss your tail at them! But before good
+Meg could reach the keystone of the bridge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> she had no tail to toss. For
+Nannie far before the rest, hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+and flew at Tam with fury. But she little knew good Maggie's
+mettle. With one spring, she brought off her master safe, but left
+behind her own gray tail!</p>
+
+<p>The witch had caught it and left poor Maggie with only a stump.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="TAM_O_SHANTER1" id="TAM_O_SHANTER1"></a>TAM O' SHANTER</h2>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."&mdash;Gawin Douglas.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When chapman billies leave the street,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And drouthy neebors neebors meet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As market-days are wearing late,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An' folk begin to tak' the gate;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While we sit bousing at the nappy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An' gettin' fou and unco happy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We think na on the lang Scots miles,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That lie between us and our hame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where sits our sulky sullen dame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gathering her brows like gathering storm,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For honest men and bonny lasses.)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advise!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That frae November till October,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ae market-day thou wasna sober;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That ilka melder, wi' the miller,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She prophesy'd, that late or soon,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To think how mony counsels sweet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How mony lengthen'd sage advices,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The husband frae the wife despises!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But to our tale:&mdash;Ae market night,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tam had got planted unco right;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">They had been fou' for weeks thegither!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And ay the ale was growing better:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The storm without might rair and rustle&mdash;</span><br />
+
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Care, made to see a man sae happy,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But pleasures are like poppies spread,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or like the snow falls in the river,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A moment white&mdash;then melts for ever;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or like the borealis race,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That flit ere you can point their place;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or like the rainbow's lovely form</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Evanishing amid the storm.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nae man can tether time or tide;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hour approaches Tam maun ride;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That hour, o' night's black arch the kay-stane,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sic a night he taks the road in</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That night, a child might understand,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The De'il had business on his hand.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A better never lifted leg,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Despising wind, and rain, and fire;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Les bogles catch him unawares;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By this time he was cross the foord,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And past the birks and meikle stane,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And near the thorn, aboon the well,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Before him Doon pours all his floods;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The lightnings flash from pole to pole;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Near and more near the thunders roll;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And loud resounded mirth and dancing.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What dangers thou canst make us scorn!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noodle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She ventur'd forward on the light;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Warlocks and witches in a dance;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nae cotillion brent new frae France,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Put life and mettle in their heels:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A winnock-bunker in the east,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To gie them music was his charge;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till roof and rafters a' did dirl&mdash; As</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The piper loud and louder blew;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The dancers quick and quicker flew;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Til ilka carlin swat and reekit,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And coost her duddies to the wark,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And linket at it in her sark!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There was a winsome wench and walie,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That night enlisted in the core,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For mony a beast to dead she shot,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And shook baith meikle corn and bear,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And kept the country-side in fear.)</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That, while a lassie, she had worn,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In longitude tho' sorely scanty,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">It was her best, and she was vauntie.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But here my muse her wing maun cour;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To sing how Nannie lap and flang,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(A soup'e jade she was and strang),</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And thought his very een enrich'd;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Til first ae caper, syne anither,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tam tint his reason a' thegither,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And roars out, "Well done, Cutty-sark!"</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And in an instant all was dark:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When out the hellish legion sallied.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As bees bizz out wi' angry gyke,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When plundering herds assail their byke;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As open pussie's mortal foes,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When, pop! she starts before their nose;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As eager runs the market-crowd,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So Maggie runs, the witches follow,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And win the key-stane<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> of the brig;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There at them thou thy tail may toss,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A running stream they darena cross!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But ere the key-stane she could make,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The fient a tail she had to shake!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For Nannie, far before the rest,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hard upon noble Maggie prest,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And flew at Tammie wi' furious ettle;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But little wist she Maggie's mettle&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ae spring brought off her master hale,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But left behind her ain gray tail:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The carlin claught her by the rump,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span>.</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span><br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;">
+<img src="images/24s-325.jpg" width="376" height="450" alt="THE BOGGART" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE BOGGART</span>
+</div>
+<h2><a name="THE_BOGGART33" id="THE_BOGGART33"></a>THE BOGGART<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>IN an old farm-house in Yorkshire, where lived an honest farmer named
+George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He caused a good
+deal of trouble, and he kept tormenting the children, day and night, in
+various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away,
+or their porringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible hand;
+for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains
+of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight
+would press on and nearly suffocate them. Their mother had often, on
+hearing their cries, to fly to their aid.</p>
+
+<p>There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the
+kitchen-stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the
+deal-boards of which it was made, there remained a round hole. Into
+this, one day, the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe-horn with which
+he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and
+struck the boy on the head. Of course it was the Boggart did this, and
+it soon be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>came their sport, which they called <i>larking with the
+Boggart,</i> to put the shoe-horn into the hole and have it shot back at
+them. But the gamesome Boggart at length proved such a torment that the
+farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all
+to himself. This settled, the flitting day came, and the farmer and his
+family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named
+John Marshall came up.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Georgey," said he, "and so you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced to it; for that bad Boggart torments
+us so, we can neither rest night nor day for't. It seems to have such a
+malice against t'poor bairns, it almost kills my poor dame here at
+thoughts on't, and so, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike."</p>
+
+<p>He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn
+cried out. <i>"Aye, aye, Georgey, we're flittin ye see!"</i></p>
+
+<p>"Ods, alive!" cried the farmer, "if I'd known thou would flit too, I'd
+not have stirred a peg!"</p>
+
+<p>And with that, he turned about to his wife, and told her they might as
+well stay in the old house, as be bothered by the Boggart in a new one.
+So stay they did.</p>
+
+<p class="center">THE END</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In <i>Christmas Tales of Flanders.</i> Illustrated and collected
+by Jean De Bosschere. Dodd, Mead &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Reprinted by special permission from <i>Stories and Tales</i>,
+by Hans Christian Andersen. Copyright by Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Reprinted by special permission from <i>Twilight Land,</i> by
+Howard Pyle. Copyright by Harper &amp; Brothers</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> By permission of the publishers from <i>The City That Never
+Was Reached,</i> by Dr. Jay T. Stocking. Copyright by <i>The Pilgrim Press</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> From <i>Czechoslovak Fairy Tales</i>, by Parker Fillmore.
+Copyright by Harcourt, Brace &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Reprinted by permission of the publishers from <i>The Pool of
+Stars</i>, by Cornelia Meigs. Copyright, 1915, by the Macmillan Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Reprinted by special permission from <i>The Sons O' Cormac</i>,
+by Aldis Dunbar. Copyright, 1920, by E. P. Dutton &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> From <i>Jewish Fairy Tales and Fables,</i> by Aunt Naomi. Robert
+Scott, London.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> From <i>English Fairy Tales,</i> by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers, New York and London.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> From <i>The Sweet-Scented Name,</i> by Fedor Sologub. Edited by
+Stephen Graham. Constable &amp; Company, London.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> By permission from <i>Granny's Wonderful Chair</i>, by Frances
+Browne. Copyright by E. P. Dutton &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> By permission from <i>Christ Legends,</i> by Selma Lagerlof.
+Copyright by Henry Holt &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> By permission from <i>This Way to Christmas,</i> by Ruth Sawyer
+Durand. Harper &amp; Brothers.
+</p><p>
+Also in <i>The Children's Book of Christmas Stories;</i> ed. by A. D.
+Dickinson and A. M. Skinner. Doubleday, Page.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> From <i>Children of the Dawn,</i> by Elsie Finnimore Buckley.
+Stokes, London.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Reprinted by permission from <i>The Red Book of Romance</i>.
+Edited by Andrew Lang. Longmans, Green &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> By permission from <i>Under Greek Skies,</i> by Julia
+Dragoumis. Copyright by E. P. Dutton &amp; Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> By special permission from <i>The Punishment of the Stingy,</i>
+by George Bird Grinnell. Copyright by Harper &amp; Brothers.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> By permission from Waukewa's Eagle, by James Buckham, in
+<i>St. Nicholas</i>, Vol. XXVIII, Part I, The Century Company.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> From <i>The Wandering Heath,</i> by Arthur Quiller-Couch.
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> From <i>Legends and Tales of North Cornwall</i>, by Enys
+Tregarthen. Wells Gardner, Darton &amp; Co.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Mad.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Jack-o'-Lantern. Will-o'-the-Wisp. The Piskey Puck. Some
+say he walks about carrying a lantern, others, that he goes over the
+moors <i>in</i> his lantern.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Waving.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Little.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> In Cornwall, these "little Ancient People" are called
+<i>Piskeys</i>. In England and Ireland, <i>Pixies</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> From <i>The Wandering Heath</i>, by Arthur Quiller-Couch;
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Beer-house.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Breeches buoy.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> From <i>English Fairy Tales,</i> by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> To go from <i>left</i> to right, instead of following the Sun's
+course from <i>right</i> to left.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Prose Version, by Anna Cogswell Tyler.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits,
+have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the
+next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the
+benighted traveler, that when he falls in with <i>bogles,</i> whatever danger
+there may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning
+back.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> From <i>Fairy-Gold</i>, a book of old English Fairy Tales.
+Chosen by Ernest Rhys.</p></div>
+
+</div>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #34618 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34618)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and
+Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+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: Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls
+
+Author: Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+Illustrator: Maud Petersham
+             Miska Petersham
+
+Release Date: December 11, 2010 [EBook #34618]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FOUR UNUSUAL STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreaders at fadedpage.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    TWENTY-FOUR
+    UNUSUAL STORIES
+
+    FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
+
+
+    ARRANGED AND RETOLD
+
+    BY
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER
+
+    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+    MAUD AND MISKA PETERSHAM
+
+    NEW YORK
+
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
+
+    1921
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+    PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.
+
+    THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
+
+    RAHWAY. N. J.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO
+    HAVE ENJOYED THESE TALES
+
+    AND HAVE BEEN THE INSPIRATION
+    OF THE STORY-TELLER,
+    THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+It has been suggested that the boys and girls who have so often listened
+to these stories in the clubs and story-hours of the New York Public
+Library, might like to have a few of their favorites in one book; that
+other boys and girls might be interested in reading them; and that the
+story-teller, in search of stories for special occasions, might find
+this little volume useful.
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER.
+    1920
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+    THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE                                         1
+
+    _Jean de Bosschere_
+
+    "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO
+        BE RIGHT!"                                                     7
+
+    _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+    WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME                                            17
+
+    _Howard Pyle_
+
+    THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES                     31
+
+    _Rev. Jay T. Stocking_
+
+    KATCHA AND THE DEVIL                                              45
+
+    _Parker Fillmore_
+
+    THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN                                           59
+
+    _Cornelia Meigs_
+
+    WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME                                81
+
+    _Aldis Dunbar_
+
+    THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE                                  95
+
+    _Aunt Naomi_
+
+    THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END                                      107
+
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    WINGS                                                            115
+
+    _Fedor Sologub_
+
+            CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+    THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO                                             123
+
+    _Frances Browne_
+
+    THE EMPEROR'S VISION                                             155
+
+    _Selma Lagerlof_
+
+    THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP                                    167
+
+    _Ruth Sawyer Durand_
+
+    GREEK LEGENDS
+
+    THE CURSE OF ECHO                                                183
+    _Elsie Finnimore Buckley_
+
+    HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN                                   195
+    _Andrew Lang_
+
+    HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE
+    WATER OF LIFE                                                    213
+    _Julia Dragoumis_
+
+
+    AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+    THE FIRST CORN                                                   223
+    _George Bird Grinnell_
+
+    WAUKEWA'S EAGLE                                                  233
+    _James Buckham_
+
+
+    HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+    THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF                                        245
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN                                  277
+    _Enys Tregarthen_
+
+    MY GRANDFATHER HENDRY WATTY                                      285
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    CHILDE ROWLAND                                                   297
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    TAM O' SHANTER                                                   309
+    _Robert Burns_
+    (Prose Version by Anna Cogswell Tyler)
+
+    THE BOGGART                                                      325
+    _Ernest Rhys_
+
+[Illustration: THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE]
+
+
+
+
+THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE[1]
+
+
+ONCE when the Emperor Charles V was traveling in the country, he saw a
+convent, and in passing by a little door he read this strange
+inscription:
+
+"Here you live without a care."
+
+The Emperor was very surprised and could scarcely believe his eyes.
+
+"It seems to me an impossibility," he thought; "does some one really
+exist on earth who is free from care? As Emperor I am overwhelmed with
+troubles, while here in this convent, which is a little kingdom in
+itself, one would have nothing to worry about. I cannot believe it."
+
+Immediately on setting foot in the village inn, the Emperor sent the
+hostess to fetch the Abbot of this singular convent.
+
+You can imagine what a state of mind the latter was in when he heard he
+was summoned to the Emperor's presence.
+
+"What have I done to displease him?" he asked himself. On the way he
+examined his conscience over and over again, and he could think of no
+fault of which he was guilty. "I am in troubled waters; I must steer my
+way through," he said.
+
+When he was in the Emperor's presence, the latter expressed his
+astonishment of what he had read.
+
+The Abbot now knew why he had been summoned, and smiled. "Sir," said he,
+"does that astonish you? However, it is very simple; we eat, we drink,
+we sleep, and worry over nothing."
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot, that state of things must come to an end," said
+the Emperor, "and in order that you may have your share of trouble, I
+command you to bring me to-morrow the answers to the three following
+questions:
+
+"First, What is the depth of the sea?
+
+"Secondly, How many cows' tails would it take to measure the distance
+between the earth and the sun?
+
+"Thirdly, What am I thinking about?
+
+"Try to please me or I shall exact a penalty from you."
+
+On hearing these words, the Abbot returned to his convent with a heavy
+heart. From that moment he knew no peace. He cudgeled his brains as to
+what answer he could make to the Emperor.
+
+When the little bell of the abbey rang, summoning the monks to prayer in
+the chapel, the Abbot continued to pace his garden. He was so deep in
+thought that he was quite oblivious of what was taking place around him.
+Even if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he would not have noticed
+it.
+
+"What a horrible thing," he thought. "Is it possible that such a
+misfortune has overtaken me? I cannot possibly answer. Who can save the
+situation? Perhaps our shepherd could; he has a very lively imagination;
+but talk of the devil--"
+
+At that identical moment the shepherd appeared, leading his flock. He
+was very surprised to see the Abbot, who was always without a care,
+mediating in solitude.
+
+What could have happened?
+
+Without more ado he went to him, and asked him what was troubling him so
+deeply.
+
+"Yes, I deserve to be pitied," said the Abbot, and he told him what had
+happened.
+
+"Why are you tormenting yourself over a little thing like that?" the
+shepherd laughingly replied. "Leave it to me, and all will be well.
+To-morrow I will come here and dress myself in your robe, and I will
+turn the tables on him."
+
+At first the Abbot demurred, but in the end he yielded, and the matter
+was settled.
+
+The next day the shepherd went boldly to find the Emperor.
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot," the Emperor said with serenity, "have you found
+out the answers?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, sire."
+
+"Speak, I am listening."
+
+"Sire, the sea is as deep as a stone's throw.
+
+"To measure the distance between the earth and the sun, you only need
+one cow's tail, if it is long enough.
+
+"Do you wish to know, sire, what you are thinking? Well, at this moment,
+you think, sire, that the Abbot of the convent is in your presence, and
+it is only his shepherd."
+
+The Emperor laughed so heartily that if he has not stopped laughing he
+is laughing still.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: In _Christmas Tales of Flanders._ Illustrated and collected
+by Jean De Bosschere. Dodd, Mead & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+"WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"[2]
+
+
+I AM going to tell you a story that was told to me when I was a little
+one, and which I like better and better the oftener I think of it. For
+it is with stories as with some men and women, the older they grow, the
+pleasanter they grow, and that is delightful!
+
+Of course you have been into the country? Well, then, you must have seen
+a regularly poor old cottage. Moss and weeds spring up amid the thatch
+of the roof, a stork's nest decorates the chimney (the stork can never
+be dispensed with), the walls are aslant, the windows low (in fact, only
+one of them can be shut), the baking-oven projects forward, and an
+elder-bush leans over the gate, where you will see a tiny pond with a
+duck and ducklings in it, close under a knotted old willow-tree. Yes,
+and then there is a watch-dog that barks at every passer-by.
+
+Just such a poor little cottage as this was the one in my story, and in
+it dwelt a husband and wife. Few as their possessions were, one of them
+they could do without, and that was a horse, that used to graze in the
+ditch beside the highroad. The good-man rode on it to town, he lent it
+to his neighbors, and received slight services from them in return, but
+still it would be more profitable to sell the horse, or else exchange it
+for something they could make of more frequent use. But which should
+they do? sell, or exchange?
+
+"Why, you will find out what is best, good-man," said the wife. "Isn't
+this market-day? Come, ride off to the town--get money, or what you can
+for the horse--whatever you do is sure to be right. Make haste for the
+market!"
+
+So she tied on his neckerchief--for that was a matter she understood
+better than he--she tied it with a double knot, and made him look quite
+spruce; she dusted his hat with the palm of her hand; and she kissed him
+and sent him off, riding the horse that was to be either sold or
+bartered. Of course, he would know what to do.
+
+The sun was hot, and not a cloud in the sky. The road was dusty, and
+such a crowd of folk passed on their way to market. Some in wagons, some
+on horseback, some on their own legs. A fierce sun and no shade all the
+way.
+
+A man came driving a cow--as pretty a cow as could be. "That creature
+must give beautiful milk," thought the peasant; "it would not be a bad
+bargain if I got that. I say, you fellow with the cow!" he began aloud:
+"let's have some talk together. Look you, a horse, I believe, costs more
+than a cow, but it is all the same to me, as I have more use for a
+cow--shall we make an exchange?"
+
+"To be sure!" was the answer, and the bargain was made.
+
+The good-man might just as well now turn back homeward--he had finished
+his business. But he had made up his mind to go to market, so to market
+he must go, if only to look on, so, with his cow, he continued on his
+way. He trudged fast, so did the cow, and soon they overtook a man who
+was leading a sheep--a sheep in good condition, well clothed with wool.
+
+"I should very much like to have that!" said the peasant. "It would find
+pasture enough by our road-side, and in winter we might take it into our
+own room. And really it would be more reasonable for us to be keeping a
+sheep than a cow. Shall we exchange?"
+
+Yes, the man who owned the sheep was quite willing; so the exchange was
+made, and the good-man now went on with his sheep. Presently there
+passed him a man with a big goose under his arm.
+
+"Well, you have got a heavy fellow there!" quoth the peasant. "Feathers
+and fat in plenty! How nicely we could tie her up near our little pond,
+and it would be something for the good-wife to gather up the scraps for.
+She has often said: 'If we had but a goose!' Now she can have one--and
+she shall, too! Will you exchange? I will give you my sheep for your
+goose, and say 'thank you' besides."
+
+The other had no objection, so the peasant had his will and his goose.
+He was now close to the town; he was wearied with the heat and the
+crowd, folk and cattle pushing past him, thronging on the road, in the
+ditch, and close up to the turnpike-man's cabbage-garden, where his one
+hen was tied up, lest in her fright she should lose her way and be
+carried off. It was a short-backed hen: she winked with one eye, crying,
+"Cluck, cluck!" What she was thinking of I can't say, but what the
+peasant thought on seeing her, was this: "That is the prettiest hen I
+have ever seen--much prettier than any of our parson's chickens. I
+should very much like to have her. A hen can always pick up a grain here
+and there--can provide for herself. I almost think it would be a good
+plan to take her instead of the goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked.
+"Exchange?" repeated the owner; "not a bad idea!" So it was done; the
+turnpike-man got the goose, the peasant the hen.
+
+He had transacted a deal of business since first starting on his way to
+the town; hot was he, and wearied too; he must have a dram and a bit of
+bread. He was on the point of entering an inn, when the innkeeper met
+him in the doorway swinging a sack chock-full of something.
+
+"What have you there?" asked the peasant.
+
+"Mellow apples," was the answer, "a whole sackful for swine."
+
+"What a quantity! wouldn't my wife like to see so many! Why, the last
+year we had only one single apple on the whole tree at home. Ah! I wish
+my wife could see them!"
+
+"Well, what will you give me for them?"
+
+"Give for them? why, I will give you my hen." So he gave the hen, took
+the apples, and entered the inn, and going straight up to the bar, set
+his sack upright against the stove without considering that there was a
+fire lighted inside. A good many strangers were present, among them two
+Englishmen, both with their pockets full of gold, and fond of laying
+wagers, as Englishmen in stories are wont to be.
+
+Presently there came a sound from the stove, "Suss--suss--suss!" the
+apples were roasting. "What is that?" folk asked, and soon heard the
+whole history of the horse that had been exchanged, first for a cow, and
+lastly for a sack of rotten apples.
+
+"Well! won't you get a good sound cuff from your wife, when you go
+home?" said one of the Englishmen. "Something heavy enough to fell an
+ox, I warn you!"
+
+"I shall get kisses, not cuffs," replied the peasant. "My wife will say,
+'Whatever the good-man does is right.'"
+
+"A wager!" cried the Englishmen, "for a hundred pounds?"
+
+"Say rather a bushelful," quoth the peasant, "and I can only lay my
+bushel of apples with myself and the good-wife, but that will be more
+than full measure, I trow."
+
+"Done!" cried they. And the innkeeper's cart was brought out forthwith,
+the Englishmen got into it, the peasant got into it, the rotten apples
+got into it, and away they sped to the peasant's cottage.
+
+"Good evening, wife."
+
+"Same to you, good-man."
+
+"Well, I have exchanged the horse, not sold it."
+
+"Of course," said the wife, taking his hand, and in her eagerness to
+listen noticing neither the sack nor the strangers.
+
+"I exchanged the horse for a cow."
+
+"O! how delightful! now we can have milk, butter, and cheese, on our
+table. What a capital idea!"
+
+"Yes, but I exchanged the cow for a sheep."
+
+"Better and better!" cried the wife. "You are always so thoughtful; we
+have only just grass enough for a sheep. But now we shall have ewe's
+milk, and ewe's cheese, and woolen stockings, nay, woolen jackets too;
+and a cow would not give us that; she loses all her hairs. But you are
+always such a clever fellow."
+
+"But the ewe I exchanged again for a goose."
+
+"What! shall we really keep Michaelmas this year, good-man? You are
+always thinking of what will please me, and that was a beautiful
+thought. The goose can be tethered to the willow-tree and grow fat for
+Michaelmas Day."
+
+"But I gave the goose away for a hen," said the peasant.
+
+"A hen? well, that was a good exchange," said his wife. "A hen will lay
+eggs, sit upon them, and we shall have chickens. Fancy! a hen-yard! that
+is just the thing I have always wished for most."
+
+"Ah, but I exchanged the hen for a sack of mellow apples."
+
+"Then I must give thee a kiss," cried the wife. "Thanks, my own husband.
+And now I have something to tell. When you were gone I thought how I
+could get a right good dinner ready for you: omelets with parsley. Now I
+had the eggs, but not the parsley. So I went over to the schoolmaster's;
+they have parsley, I know, but the woman is so crabbed, she wanted
+something for it. Now what could I give her? nothing grows in our
+garden, not even a rotten apple, not even that had I for her; but now I
+can give her ten, nay, a whole sackful. That is famous, good-man!" and
+she kissed him again.
+
+"Well done!" cried the Englishmen. "Always down hill, and always happy!
+Such a sight is worth the money!" And so quite contentedly they paid the
+bushelful of gold pieces to the peasant, who had got kisses, not cuffs,
+by his bargains.
+
+Certainly virtue is her own reward, when the wife is sure that her
+husband is the wisest man in the world, and that whatever he does is
+right. So now you have heard this old story that was once told to me,
+and I hope have learnt the moral.
+
+[Illustration: WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 2: Reprinted by special permission from _Stories and Tales_,
+by Hans Christian Andersen. Copyright by Houghton, Mifflin Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME[3]
+
+     Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
+     following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of whom
+     I shall tell you.
+
+
+THERE was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day long and
+had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat by the fire,
+rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for supper that his
+wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as sharp as vinegar, and
+his temper hot enough to fry fat.
+
+While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make himself
+comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the door. The good
+woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad all in red from head
+to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as white as winter snow.
+
+The fisherman's wife stood gasping and staring at the strange figure,
+but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. "Bring your nets,
+fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There is something that I want
+you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you for your fishing
+as never fisherman was paid before."
+
+"Not I," said the fisherman; "I go out no more this night. I have been
+fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have caught
+nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave a good
+supper and a warm fire at your bidding." But the fisherman's wife had
+listened to what the old man had said about paying for the job, and she
+was of a different mind from her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man
+promises to pay you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell
+you, and my advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would
+not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, "My
+advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The
+wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her
+temper; she only said to everything that he said, "My advice to you is
+that you go."
+
+At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
+spitting his words at her; "if you drive me out into the night, I
+suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words that so many men
+say: "Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife's advice."
+
+Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and
+the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along
+like black spiders behind them.
+
+Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through
+the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where
+nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.
+
+"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven
+years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as
+this."
+
+But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle
+with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then
+out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a
+little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents
+and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his
+pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he
+took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.
+
+Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a dense
+smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far and near,
+till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then the old man
+began to utter strange spells and words.
+
+Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and
+nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth
+rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear
+till his teeth chattered in his head.
+
+Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as still as
+death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever. "Now," said
+the old magician--for such he was--"now we are about to take a journey
+such as no one ever traveled before. Heed well what I tell you. Speak
+not a single word, for if you do, misfortune will be sure to happen."
+
+"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even 'boo' to a goose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say," said
+the fisherman.
+
+"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as well."
+Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready to tie
+it about the fisherman's eyes.
+
+"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even so much as a single feather?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."
+
+But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes, and then
+he was as blind as a bat.
+
+"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and hold
+fast."
+
+The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
+something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk! whizz!
+off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was left for him
+to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to hold fast. On they
+went, and on they went, until, after a great while, whatever it was that
+was carrying him lit upon the ground, and there the fisherman found
+himself standing, for that which had brought him had gone.
+
+The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
+fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
+nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked sand
+upon the other.
+
+"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old magician;
+"for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."
+
+The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them, and then
+cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so much as a
+herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he had caught
+something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and pulled, until
+by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should it be but a great
+chest of wood, blackened by sea-water, and covered with shells and green
+moss.
+
+That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for. From his
+pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he fitted into a
+key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back the lid; the fisherman
+looked within, and there was the prettiest little palace that man's eye
+ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as
+snow. The old magician lifted the little palace out of the box and set
+it upon the ground.
+
+Then, lo and behold! a marvelous thing happened; for the palace
+instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble, until it
+stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the windows
+bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the sound of music
+and voices and laughter coming from within.
+
+Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange thing when
+another happened. The old magician took off his clothes and his
+face--yes, his face--for all the world as though it had been a mask, and
+there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever the light looked
+on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with wonder, he led the way
+up the great flight of marble steps to the palace door. As he came the
+door swung open with a blaze of light, and there stood hundreds of
+noblemen, all clad in silks and satins and velvets, who, when they saw
+the magician, bowed low before him, as though he had been a king.
+Leading the way, they brought the two through halls and chambers and
+room after room, each more magnificent than the other, until they came
+to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the others.
+
+At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady more
+lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as diamonds, her
+cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold. She came half-way
+down the steps of the throne to welcome the magician, and when the two
+met they kissed one another before all those who were looking on. Then
+she brought him to the throne and seated him beside her, and there they
+talked for a long time very earnestly.
+
+Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him like an
+owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they will give a body a
+bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the truth, the good supper he had
+come away from at home had left a sharp hunger gnawing at his insides,
+and he longed for something good and warm to fill the empty place. But
+time passed, and not so much as a crust of bread was brought to stay his
+stomach.
+
+By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon the
+throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the hand, and,
+turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud voice, "Behold him
+who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of jewels! Unto him do I give
+it, and with it all power of powers!" Thereon she opened a golden casket
+that stood beside her, and brought thence a little crystal ball, about
+as big as a pigeon's egg, in which was something that glistened like a
+spark of fire. The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his
+bosom; but what it was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
+know I shall not tell you.
+
+Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
+fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men came
+carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was full of bags
+of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Have what?" said the fisherman.
+
+"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."
+
+"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the chief
+treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a cataract
+of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen so much wealth in
+all his life before, and he stood like a man turned to stone.
+
+"Is all this mine?" said the fisherman.
+
+"It is," said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.
+
+Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to the
+fisherman, left the throne room the same way that they had come. The
+noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and back they
+went through the other apartments, until at last they came to the door.
+Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened!
+
+If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble it
+vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to be seen
+but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky overhead. The fisherman
+shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled, and was as heavy as
+lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich for life. "But anyhow,"
+said he, "they might have given a body a bite to eat."
+
+The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making himself
+as hoary and as old as before. He took out flint and steel, and his
+sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made a great fire and
+smoke just as he had done before. Then again he tied his handkerchief
+over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said he, "what I told you when we
+started upon our journey. Keep your mouth tight shut, for if you utter
+so much as a single word you are a lost man. Now throw your leg over
+what you feel and hold fast."
+
+The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap of gold in the other
+hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he had felt
+before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone through the air
+like a sky-rocket.
+
+Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time, so he
+began to think he would like to see what sort of a creature it was upon
+which he was riding thus through the sky. So he contrived, in spite of
+his net and cap, to push up the handkerchief from over one eye. Out he
+peeped, and then he saw what the strange steed was. He was riding upon a
+he-goat as black as night, and in front of him was the magician riding
+upon just such another, his great red robe fluttering out in the
+moonlight like huge red wings.
+
+"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is a
+billy-goat!"
+
+Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down fell the
+fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over and around and
+around like a frog. He held tightly to his net, but away flew his fur
+cap, the golden money falling in a shower like sparks of yellow light.
+Down he fell and down he fell, until his head spun like a top.
+
+By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft rushes.
+Into the very middle of it he tumbled, and right through the
+thatch--bump!--into the room below.
+
+The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a noise
+as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to wake the dead.
+Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and winking with sleep, and
+with her brains as addled as a duck's egg in a thunderstorm.
+
+"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and rubbed his
+shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's advice!"
+
+[Illustration: THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: Reprinted by special permission from _Twilight Land,_ by
+Howard Pyle. Copyright by Harper & Brothers]
+
+
+
+
+THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES[4]
+
+
+LONG, long ago, a hundred times as long as any one can remember, the
+Great Earth King became so very, very busy about a great many things
+that there were several things that he could not do. So he sat himself
+down and rested his great head upon his hand, and thought, and thought,
+and thought until he decided that he must have some assistance. He would
+advertise for some messengers! So he seized a great brush, as big as a
+church steeple, dipped it into the red and golden sunset light, and
+wrote in big letters high on the sky, that every one far and near could
+read:
+
+     WANTED! MESSENGERS! FLEETER THAN HORSES, SWIFTER THAN MEN, TO CARRY
+     MY MESSAGES, A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+and he signed it simply, "The Earth King." Then he went into his rainbow
+house and laid himself down to sleep on his rainbow bed.
+
+He had scarcely fallen asleep when there came a _rustle, rustle,
+rustle_ at the rainbow window,
+and a _rattle, rattle, rattle_ at the rainbow door. He sprang quickly
+from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came the reply, "come to serve the King."
+
+Then the King opened the door. There before him stood four of the
+strangest creatures that he had ever seen. They were so light that they
+could stand on nothing; they had great wide wings; they had pale faces
+and gleaming eyes; and they had light garments that floated and flapped
+and fluttered in the breeze.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the Winds," answered the mightiest of the four, "East Wind, West
+Wind, South Wind, North Wind," pointing to each in turn, himself last.
+"We have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten._"
+
+Then the King spoke to them in deep and solemn tone: "The task is a
+great one. The King's business is grave and important. My messengers
+must be swift and faithful. Are ye able?"
+
+Then the four winds piously crossed their breasts with their wings and
+whispered, "Try us and see, try us and see, try us and see."
+
+So the King tried them.
+
+"Down by the sea," said the King, "far over the mountains, many hours
+away, there lives a fisher folk that I love. Every day the men of the
+village go forth in their little boats to fish, and every evening they
+come home with their catch. But of late thick and heavy clouds have hung
+about them. They have not dared go forth lest they should not reach home
+again, and their families begin to be in want. Go to them to-day. Drive
+away the fog and clouds that the people may be happy again. Quick!
+away!"
+
+Then the four winds lifted their swift, beautiful wings and were gone.
+Faster and faster they flew till none could tell how fast they flew.
+Over the meadows they went and over the mountains. Each tried to
+outwing the others until it became a fierce and careless game. So
+blind and careless were they in their sport that they did not notice how
+they whirled the sand, and broke the trees, and tossed the water.
+Swiftly through the fishing village they tore, hurling its poor houses
+to the ground and _crashing, dashing, slashing, smashing_ the waves
+upon the fallen wrecks and the frightened and suffering folk.
+
+Not until they were weary with their furious sport did they remember the
+errand on which the King had sent them. They retraced their steps as
+quickly as they could, but alas! to their shame and grief, the village
+lay in ruins and the people wept for their loss.
+
+Then the Earth King was very sad and angry. He brought the shameful
+winds before his court. "False and faithless winds," he said, in stern
+and awful voice, "ye did not do my errand; ye were traitors to your
+trust; great shall be your punishment. Nevermore shall ye be my
+messengers, evermore shall ye be my slaves. Away from my sight!"
+
+Then the faithless winds departed from before the face of the King, and
+in shame and sorrow went moaning among the caves and the rocks by the
+seaside, and sighing among the lonely pine trees in the wilderness, and
+even to this day you may hear the echoes of their moans and sighs.
+
+The Earth King was sorrowful, but not discouraged. Again he seized the
+great paint brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped it into the red
+and golden sunset light, and wrote in big letters high on the sky that
+every one far and near could read:
+
+    WANTED! MESSENGERS!
+    FLEETER THAN HORSES,
+    SWIFTER THAN MEN,
+    TO CARRY MY MESSAGES,
+    A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+Then he went into his rainbow house and laid himself down on his rainbow
+bed. He scarcely had taken forty winks when he heard a _rat-tat-tatting_
+on the rainbow window and a _rap-rap-rapping_ on the rainbow door.
+Quickly he leaped from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came a gentle voice through the keyhole, "come to
+serve the King."
+
+Then he opened the door, and there before him flitted and twittered a
+company of the most curious little people that he ever had set eyes
+upon. They had each a pair of beady eyes, a little pointed nose, a set
+of little scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, fitting as snug
+as ever the tailor could make it.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the birds, and our names are many. We saw the King's sign in the
+sky and have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+Then the King, remembering the Winds, addressed them in very deep and
+solemn tones: "The task is a great one. The King's business is exceeding
+grave and important. My messengers must be swift and faithful, must
+remember my commands and keep my secrets. Are ye able?"
+
+Each bird laid his little scratchy toes on his little pointed nose and
+vowed that he would remember the King's commands and keep the King's
+secrets.
+
+"Then," said the King, "make ready. Far to the north dwells a people
+that I love. For many a month they have lived amid ice and snow and the
+bitter frosts. Now they sigh for warmer days, and I have heard them. I
+am planning a delightful surprise for them. I am going to carry spring
+to them. Go, find the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and bid them
+come at once to the King's court, that I may take them and the spring
+days to my suffering and discouraged people. Then return with all speed
+to the King, and remember --do not betray my secret."
+
+The bird-messengers hastened away as fast as ever their wings could
+carry them. They summoned the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and
+bade them make haste to the Earth King. They, of course, turned back as
+they were commanded, but before they reached home again, each one of
+them was seized with a strange, restless, uneasy feeling right in the
+middle of his feathers. It must have been the secret trying to get out.
+One by one they stole past the King's house under cover of the night and
+made their way to the north country. And when the morning came, there
+they were, sitting on the fence posts and in the apple trees, just
+bursting with the happy secret of the King.
+
+    _Then the robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+The people were very happy when they heard what the birds said, and with
+much excitement began to get ready for the springtime.
+
+Now, of course, the King knew nothing about all this, and was very happy
+in thinking of the surprise that he was to give the people. He took the
+warm sunshine and the soft south wind for companions, and made his way
+in all haste to the land of ice and snow. As he arrived, with his
+delightful secret, as he thought, hidden in his heart, he was amazed to
+find an old woman sitting in her doorway knitting.
+
+"Why are you sitting here?" he asked. "Why are you not within, warming
+your feet by the fire?"
+
+"Why, don't you know?" she said, "spring is coming!"
+
+"Spring?" he asked, almost roughly; "how do you know?"
+
+"Oh," said she with a smile, trying not to look at a robin that turned
+his back behind the picket fence, hoping that if the King saw him he
+might think he was an English sparrow, "a little bird told me."
+
+The King walked up the street, looking gloomy enough, and soon came
+across a gardener with his rake, uncovering the crocuses and the
+daffodils.
+
+"Why do you do this, my good man? Surely your flowers will freeze. You
+had much better be covering them up."
+
+"Oh, no," he said, straightening his bent back, "spring is coming."
+
+"Spring," said the King; "how do _you_ know?"
+
+"Oh," said the gardener, with a grin, and a twinkle in his left eye, as
+he caught sight of a bluebird peeking half-scared around the limb of a
+near-by apple tree, "a little bird told me."
+
+Then the disgraceful story all came out: that
+
+    _The robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+My! but wasn't the Earth King disgusted! And weren't the bird-messengers
+ashamed to come when he sternly called them! Each laid his little
+pointed nose on his little scratchy toes, and dropped his eyes and
+uttered never a word.
+
+"Silly birds," he said in scornful voice. "You vowed to keep my secrets.
+You have broken your vow. You obeyed my commands and called the south
+wind and the sunshine; so I cannot be too harsh with you. But you cannot
+keep my secrets, so I cannot keep you as my messengers. Now and then I
+may use you as my servants. Adieu!"
+
+Then the birds flew sadly away as quietly and quickly as ever they
+could, and set to work building their nests in holes in the trees and
+holes in the ground and in out-of-the-way places, making such a
+chattering meantime that neither they, nor any one else, could hear
+themselves think.
+
+By this time the Earth King was nearly discouraged. He did not know what
+in the world to do. He rested his elbow on his knee and his great head
+in his hand and thought and wondered. Then once again he rose and took
+the great brush and wrote the same big words on the sky. And for very
+weariness he lay down on a great bank of clouds and soon was sound
+asleep. As he slept, the cloud grew bigger and bigger and blacker and
+blacker, and the thunder came nearer and nearer until, all at once,
+CRASH-CRASH--the cloud seemed torn to pieces and the King leaped to his
+feet half-scared to death, even if he was a King. There before him,
+darting this way and that way, and up and down, and across-ways, was a
+swarm of little red-hot creatures that hissed and buzzed and cracked
+like the Fourth of July.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in half-fright as he rubbed his eyes, "and what
+do you want?"
+
+"Messengers, messengers, messengers," whispered they all at once, "and
+we have come to serve the King."
+
+"What are your names?"
+
+"We are the Lightning Spirits; sometimes men call us Electricity--
+
+    _The swiftest creatures that are known to men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+The King charged them gravely and solemnly, as he had done the winds and
+the birds before them, that his messengers must be true and faithful and
+must keep his secrets. But no matter how great the task nor how heavy
+the oaths with which he bound them to be faithful, they were eager, all
+of them, to serve the King. Only he must build road-ways for them. They
+had not wings to fly, and their feet were not accustomed to the highways
+of the land. They might lose their way. So the King decided to try them.
+He called his laborers and ordered them to erect tall poles, and from
+pole to pole to lay slender roadways of wire. Miles and miles of these
+roadways he built, over the hills and through the valleys. And when all
+was complete, he called the spirits to him and whispered to them his
+secret messages. Quick as thought they ran over the little roadways,
+hither and thither, and back again, doing faithfully and well the King's
+errands and keeping the King's secrets. They whispered never so much as
+a word of them. So the Earth King called a great assembly, and before
+them all appointed the Lightning Spirits to be his trusted messengers
+for ever and a day.
+
+Of course the winds were very jealous when they heard of it, and they
+determined to get revenge by stealing the messages from the spirits.
+They dashed against the wires day after day, trying to break them and
+get the secrets, but all to no purpose. All they could hear was
+MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M; and the harder they blew, the louder they heard it.
+
+The birds had all along been sorry that they had given away the great
+secret, and had been hoping that the King would give them another
+chance. They were much too gentle to do as the winds did. But they were
+very curious to find out what the King's messages were. So day after day
+they went to the wires and sat upon them and snuggled down as close to
+them as they could get and listened hard, putting now the right ear down
+and now the left--but all they could ever hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M-M.
+
+_And they seem never to have got over that habit!_ If you want to find
+out for yourself the truth of this tale, _you go_ some day when the wind
+is blowing against the wires and the birds are sitting upon them,
+snuggled close, and put your ear to a telegraph pole and all _you_ will
+hear is MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M.
+
+[Illustration: CATHKA AND THE DEVIL]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: By permission of the publishers from _The City That Never
+Was Reached,_ by Dr. Jay T. Stocking. Copyright by _The Pilgrim Press_.]
+
+
+
+
+KATCHA AND THE DEVIL[5]
+
+THE STORY OF A CLINGING VINE
+
+
+THERE was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she
+owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good
+it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not
+even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for
+her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn't open her mouth without
+scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you
+could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until
+by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.
+
+Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was
+a dance either at the burgomaster's, or at the tavern. As soon as the
+bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls
+gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first
+at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the
+girls to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when
+she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday
+after Sunday just the same.
+
+One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to
+herself: "Here I am getting old and yet I've never once danced with a
+boy! Plague take it, to-day I'd dance with the devil if he asked me!"
+
+She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat
+down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had
+invited to dance.
+
+Suddenly a stranger in hunter's green came in. He sat down at a table
+near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer,
+he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she
+was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly
+and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.
+
+When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket,
+tossed it to the piper, and called out:
+
+"Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!"
+
+The boys snickered and the girls giggled, hiding behind each other and
+stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn't hear
+them laughing. But Katcha wasn't noticing them at all. Katcha was
+dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at
+her, Katcha wouldn't have cared.
+
+The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once
+did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks
+and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.
+
+"Ah," sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to
+part, "I wish I could dance with you forever!"
+
+"Very well," said the stranger. "Come with me."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"Put your arm around my neck and I'll tell you."
+
+Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a
+devil and flew straight down to hell.
+
+At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.
+
+His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was
+exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on
+tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.
+
+The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself
+with Katcha still glued to his neck.
+
+"What's that thing you've got around your neck?" the Prince asked.
+
+So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard
+Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. "So I
+asked her to dance with me," the devil said. "Afterwards just to
+frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won't let
+go of me!"
+
+"Serve you right, you dunce!" the Prince said. "How often have I told
+you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might
+have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!"
+
+"I beg your Majesty to make her let go!" the poor devil implored.
+
+"I will not!" said the Prince. "You'll have to carry her back to earth
+yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a
+lesson to you."
+
+So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with
+Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He
+promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He
+cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.
+
+Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a meadow where a
+shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his
+flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so
+that the shepherd didn't recognize him.
+
+"Hi, there," the shepherd said, "what's that you're carrying?"
+
+"Don't ask me," the devil said with a sigh. "I'm so worn out I'm nearly
+dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along
+comes a woman and jumps on my back and won't let go. I'm trying to carry
+her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don't believe
+I'm able. My legs are giving out."
+
+The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: "I tell you what: I'll
+help you. I can't leave my sheep long, but I'll carry her halfway."
+
+"Oh," said the devil, "I'd be very grateful if you did!"
+
+So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: "Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!"
+
+When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of
+the devil and leapt upon the shepherd's back, catching hold of the
+collar of his sheepskin coat.
+
+Now the young shepherd soon found that the long shaggy coat and Katcha
+made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of
+his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of
+Katcha.
+
+Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he'd like to
+throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it
+by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he
+thought he could slip out of it without Katcha's discovering what he was
+doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn't move. He
+slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn't move. He unlooped the
+first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button.
+Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk!
+he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!
+
+When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.
+
+"Where's Katcha?" he gasped.
+
+"Oh," the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "I
+decided to leave her up yonder in a pond."
+
+"My dear friend," the devil cried, "I thank you! You have done me a
+great favor. If it hadn't been for you I might be carrying Katcha till
+dooms-day. I'll never forget you and some time I'll reward you. As you
+don't know who it is you've helped, I must tell you I'm a devil."
+
+With these words the devil vanished.
+
+For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to
+himself: "Well, if they're all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able
+for them!"
+
+The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young
+duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing.
+He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as
+he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people
+until the whole land was crying out against them.
+
+Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and
+ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two
+governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the
+three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the
+duke from questioning him further.
+
+"Such danger," he said, "threatens your life and the lives of your two
+governors that I fear to speak."
+
+"Whatever it is," said the duke, "speak. But I warn you to speak the
+truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your
+life."
+
+The astrologer bowed and said: "Hear then, O Duke, what the planets
+foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day,
+at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two
+governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and
+such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you
+off to hell."
+
+The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply
+shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of
+judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.
+
+As for the governors, they couldn't eat a bite of food and were carried
+from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten
+wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all
+the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.
+
+The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of
+state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.
+
+The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his
+flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings
+in the great world.
+
+Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: "I have come,
+my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first
+quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because
+they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they're
+behaving themselves now so they're to be given another chance. But they
+don't know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first
+castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and
+the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to
+me and say: 'What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!' I'll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask
+the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just
+threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second
+governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you,
+though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the
+moon is full, I'm to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked
+that he's to have no second chance. So don't try to save him, for if you
+do you'll pay for it with your own skin. Don't forget!"
+
+The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When
+the moon was in its first quarter he went to the first castle. A great
+crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away
+the governor.
+
+Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle
+opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the
+governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.
+
+The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the
+hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.
+
+"What do you mean by this?" he shouted. "Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!"
+
+Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the
+shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in
+reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor
+ordered that they be given him without delay.
+
+Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went
+through exactly the same performance.
+
+It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he
+had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he
+sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and
+when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously to rescue him
+likewise from the devil's clutches.
+
+"Master," the shepherd answered, "I cannot promise you anything. I have
+to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you
+really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and
+kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you
+even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place."
+
+The duke declared that with God's help he would mend his ways and the
+shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.
+
+With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full
+moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer's
+prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for
+him had changed.
+
+Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too
+soon the fatal day arrived.
+
+Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the
+arrival of the devil.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before
+him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:
+
+"Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!"
+
+Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard,
+which was filled with a great multitude of people.
+
+At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way
+through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:
+
+"What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be trouble!"
+
+"What do _you_ mean?" whispered the devil. "Don't you remember what I
+told you?"
+
+"Hush!" the shepherd whispered back. "I don't care anything about the
+duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She's alive and she's
+looking for you!"
+
+The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.
+
+All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed
+in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.
+
+As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his
+chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the
+shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.
+
+[Ilustration: THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 5: From _Czechoslovak Fairy Tales_, by Parker Fillmore.
+Copyright by Harcourt, Brace & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN[6]
+
+
+FOR a long hour, on that November afternoon, my brother Ted had been
+standing at the gate below the ranch house, waiting and waiting, while
+the twilight filled the round hollow of the valley as water slowly fills
+a cup. At last the figure of a rider, silhouetted against the
+rose-colored sky, came into view along the crest of the rocky ridge. The
+little cow pony was loping as swiftly as the rough trail would permit,
+but to Ted's impatient eyes it seemed to crawl as slowly as a fly on a
+window pane. Although the horseman looked like a cow puncher, at that
+distance, with his slouch hat and big saddle, the eager boy knew that it
+was the district doctor making his far rounds over the range. A swift
+epidemic had been sweeping over Montana, passing from one ranch to
+another and leaving much illness and suffering behind. Ted's uncle and
+the cousin who was his own age had both been stricken two days before
+and it seemed that the doctor would never come.
+
+"I'm glad you are here," he said as the doctor's pony, covered with foam
+and quivering with fatigue, passed through the open gate. "We have two
+patients for you."
+
+The man nodded.
+
+"Fever, I suppose," he commented, "and aching bones, and don't know what
+to make of themselves because they have never been sick before? I have
+seen a hundred such cases in the last few days. It is bad at all the
+ranches, but the sheep herders, off in their cabins by themselves, are
+hit particularly hard."
+
+He slipped from the saddle and strode into the house, leaving Ted to
+take the tired pony around to the stables. It was very dark now and
+growing cold, but he felt warm and comforted, somehow, since the doctor
+had come. He heard running feet behind him and felt a dog's nose, cold
+and wet, thrust into his hand. It was Pedro, the giant, six months' old
+wolf hound puppy, long legged and shaggy haired, the pride of Ted's life
+and the best beloved of all his possessions. The big dog followed his
+master into the stable and sat down, blinking solemnly in the circle of
+lantern light, while the boy was caring for the doctor's horse and
+bedding it down. Ted's thoughts were very busy, now with his anxieties
+about his uncle, now racing out over the range to wonder how those in
+the stricken ranch houses and lonely cabins might be faring. There was
+the ranch on Arran Creek--people there were numerous enough to care for
+each other. It might be worse at Thompson's Crossing, and, oh, how would
+it be with those shepherds who lived in tiny cottages here and there
+along the Big Basin, so far from neighbors that often for months they
+saw no other faces than the wooly vacant ones of their thousands of
+sheep.
+
+There was one, a big grizzled Irishman, whom Ted had seen only a few
+times. Nevertheless, he was one of his closest friends. They had met on
+a night when the boy was hunting, and he could remember still how they
+had lain together by the tiny camp fire, with the coyotes yelping in the
+distance, with the great plain stretching out into the dark, with the
+slender curl of smoke rising straight upward and the big stars seeming
+almost within reach of his hand in the thin air. The lonely Irishman had
+opened his heart to his new friend and had told him much of his own
+country, so unlike this big bare one, a dear green land where the
+tumbledown cottages and little fields were crowded together in such
+comforting comradeship.
+
+"You could open your window of a summer night and give a call to the
+neighbors," he sighed, "and you needn't to have the voice of the giant
+Finn McCoul to make them hear. In this place a man could fall sick and
+die alone and no one be the wiser."
+
+His reminiscences had wandered farther and farther until he began to
+tell the tales and legends familiar in his own countryside, stories of
+the "Little People" and of Ireland in ancient times. Of them all Ted
+remembered most clearly the story of the white grayhounds of the King of
+Connemara, upon which his friend had dwelt long, showing that in spite
+of its being a thousand years old, it was his favorite tale.
+
+"Like those dogs on Arran Creek, they were perhaps," the Irishman said,
+"only sleeker of coat and swifter of foot, I'm thinking."
+
+"But they couldn't be faster," Ted had objected. "The Arran dogs can
+catch coyotes and jack-rabbits and people have called those the quickest
+animals that run."
+
+"Ah," returned the other with true Irish logic, "those Arran dogs are
+Russian, they tell me, and these I speak of were of Connemara, and what
+comes out of Ireland, you may be sure, is faster and fairer than
+anything else on earth."
+
+Against such reasoning Ted had judged it impossible to argue and had
+dropped into silence and finally into sleep with the voices of the
+coyotes and the legend of the lean, white Irish grayhounds still running
+like swift water through his dreams.
+
+After that he had visited the lonely shepherd whenever he could find
+time to travel so far. Together they had hunted deer and trapped beaver
+in the foothills above the Big Basin or, when the sheep had to be moved
+to new pasture, had spent hours in earnest talk, plodding patiently in
+the dust after the slow-moving flock. The long habit of silence had
+taken deep hold upon the Irishman, but with Ted alone he seemed willing
+to speak freely. It was on one of these occasions that he had given the
+boy the image of Saint Christopher, "For," he said, "you are like to be
+a great roamer and a great traveler from the way you talk, and those who
+carry the good Saint Christopher with them, always travel safely."
+
+Now, as Ted thought of illness and pestilence spreading across the
+thinly settled state, his first and keenest apprehension was for the
+safety of his friend. His work done, he went quickly back to the house
+where the doctor was already standing on the doorstep again.
+
+"They are not bad cases, either of them," he was saying to Ted's aunt.
+"If they have good care there is no danger, but if they don't--then
+Heaven help them, I can't."
+
+Ted came close and pulled his sleeve.
+
+"Tell me," he questioned quickly, "Michael Martin isn't sick, is he?"
+
+"Michael Martin?" repeated the doctor. "A big Irishman in the cabin at
+the upper edge of Big Basin? Yes, he's down sick as can be, poor fellow,
+with no one but a gray old collie dog, about the age of himself, I
+should think, to keep him company."
+
+He turned back to give a few last directions.
+
+"I suppose you are master of the house with your uncle laid up," he said
+to Ted again, "and I will have to apply to you to lend me a fresh horse
+so that I can go on."
+
+"You're never going on to-night?" exclaimed Ted; "why, you have been
+riding for all you were worth, all day!"
+
+"Yes, and all the night before," returned the doctor cheerfully, "but
+this is no time to spare horses or doctors. Good gracious, boy, what's
+that?" For Pedro, tall and white in the dark, standing on his hind legs
+to insert an inquisitive puppy nose between the doctor's collar and his
+neck, was an unexpected and startling apparition.
+
+"That's my dog," Ted explained proudly; "Jim McKenzie, over on Arran
+Creek, gave him to me; he has a lot of them, you know. Pedro is only
+half grown now, he is going to be a lot bigger when he is a year old.
+Yes, I'll bring you a horse right away, yours couldn't go another mile."
+
+When, a few minutes later, the sound of hoofs came clattering up from
+the stables it seemed certain that there were more than four of them.
+
+"What's this?" the doctor inquired, seeing a second horse with
+saddlebags and blanket roll strapped in place and observing Ted's boots
+and riding coat.
+
+"My aunt and the girls will take care of Uncle," the boy replied, "so I
+am going out to see Michael Martin. You can tell me what to do for him
+as we ride up the trail."
+
+They could feel the sharp wind almost before they began climbing the
+ridge. So far, summer had lingered into November, but the weather was
+plainly changing now and there had been reports of heavy snowfalls in
+the mountains. The stars shone dimly, as though through a veil of mist.
+
+"You had better push on as fast as you can," advised the doctor as they
+came to the parting of their ways. "When a man is as sick as Michael,
+what ever is to happen, comes quickly." His horse jumped and snorted.
+"There's that white puppy of yours again. What a ghost he is! He is
+rather big to take with you to a sick man's cabin."
+
+Pedro had come dashing up the trail behind them, in spite of his having
+been ordered sternly to stay at home. At six months old the sense of
+obedience is not quite so great as it should be, and the love of going
+on an expedition is irresistible.
+
+"It would take me forever to drive him home now," Ted admitted; "I will
+take him along to Jim McKenzie's and leave him there with his brothers.
+I can make Arran Creek by breakfast time and ought to get to Michael's
+not long after noon. Well, so long!"
+
+The stars grew more dim and the wind keener as he rode on through the
+night. His pony cantered steadily with the easy rocking-horse motion
+that came near to lulling him to sleep. Pedro paddled alongside, his
+long legs covering the miles with untiring energy. They stopped at
+midnight to drink from the stream they were crossing, to rest a little
+and to eat some lunch from the saddlebags. Then they pressed on once
+more, on and on, until gray and crimson began to show behind the
+mountains to the eastward, and the big white house of Arran at last
+came into sight.
+
+Jim McKenzie's place was bigger than the ordinary ranch house, for there
+were gabled roofs showing through the group of trees, there were tall
+barns and a wide fenced paddock where lived the white Russian wolfhounds
+for which the Arran ranch was famous. A deep-voiced chorus of welcome
+was going up as Ted and Pedro came down the trail. The puppy responded
+joyfully and went bounding headlong to the foot of the slope to greet
+his brothers. It was a beautiful sight to see the band of great dogs,
+their coats like silver in the early morning light, romping together
+like a dozen kittens, pursuing each other in circles, checking,
+wheeling, rolling one another over, leaping back and forth over the low
+fences that divided the paddock, with the grace and free agility of
+deer. Early as it was, Jim McKenzie was walking down to the stables and
+stopped to greet Ted as, weary and dusty, he rode through the gate.
+
+"Sure we'll keep Pedro," he said when he had heard the boy's errand.
+"Yes, we've a good many sick here; I'd have sent out on the range myself
+but there was nobody to spare. They tell me the herds of sheep are in
+terrible confusion, and most of the herders are down. Poor old Michael
+Martin, I hope you get there in time to help him. Turn your horse into
+the corral, we'll give you another to go on with. Now come in to
+breakfast." Ted snatched a hurried meal, threw his saddle upon a fresh
+pony, and set off again. For a long distance he could hear the
+lamentations of Pedro protesting loudly at the paddock gate. The way,
+after he passed Arran Creek, led out into the flat country of the Big
+Basin with the sagebrush-dotted plain stretching far ahead. It seemed
+that he rode endlessly and arrived nowhere, so long was the way and so
+unchanging the landscape. Once, as he crossed a stream, a deer rose,
+stamping and snorting among the low bushes, and fled away toward the
+hills, seeming scarcely to touch the ground as it went. Later, something
+quick and silent, and looking like a reddish-brown collie, leaped from
+the sagebrush and scudded across the trail almost under his horse's
+feet.
+
+"A coyote, out in the open in daylight," he reflected, somewhat
+startled. "It must have been cold up in the mountains to make them so
+bold. That looks bad for the sheep."
+
+It was disturbing also to see how many scattered sheep he was beginning
+to pass, little bands, solitary ewes with half-grown lambs trotting at
+their heels, adventurous yearlings straying farther and farther from
+their comrades. Once or twice he tried to drive them together, but owing
+to his haste and his inexperience with their preposterous ways, he had
+very little success.
+
+"There is going to be bad weather, too," he observed as he saw the blue
+sky disappear beneath an overcast of gray. "I had better get on to
+Michael's as fast as I can."
+
+He saw the little mud and log cabin at last, tucked away among some
+stunted trees near the shoulder of a low ridge. It looked deceivingly
+near, yet he rode and rode and could not reach it. White flakes were
+flying now, fitfully at first, then thicker and thicker until he could
+scarcely see. His growing misgivings gave place to greater and greater
+anxiety concerning his friend, while there ran through his mind again
+and again the doctor's words, "Whatever is to happen, comes quickly."
+
+It was past noon and had begun to seem as though he had been riding
+forever when he breasted the final slope at last, jumped from his horse,
+and thundered at the cabin door. The whine of a dog answered him from
+within, and a faint voice, broken but still audible, told him that
+Michael was alive. The cabin, so it seemed to him as he entered, was a
+good ten degrees colder than it was outside. Poor Michael, helpless and
+shivering on the bunk in the corner, looked like the shrunken ghost of
+the giant Irishman he had known before. Ted rekindled the fire, emptied
+his saddlebags, piled his extra blankets upon the bed and, with a skill
+bred of long practice in camp cookery, set about preparing a meal.
+Michael was so hoarse as to be almost unable to speak and so weak that
+his mind wandered in the midst of a sentence, yet all of his thoughts
+were on the care of his sheep.
+
+"When I felt the sickness coming on me I tried to drive them in," he
+whispered, "but they broke and scattered and I fell beside the
+trail--they must get in--snow coming--"
+
+In an hour his fever rose again, he tossed and muttered with only
+fleeting intervals of consciousness. Ted had found food and shelter for
+his horse in the sheep shed, and had settled down to his task of anxious
+watching. The snow fell faster and faster so that darkness came on by
+mid-afternoon. He had tried to drive the old collie dog out to herd in
+the sheep, but the poor old creature would not leave its master and,
+even when pushed outside, remained whining beside the door.
+
+"He couldn't do much anyway," sighed Ted as he let him in again. "How
+those coyotes yelp! I wish, after all, that I had brought Pedro."
+
+Michael had heard the coyotes too and was striving feebly to rise from
+his bed.
+
+"I must go out to them, my poor creatures," he gasped. "Those devil
+beasts will have driven them over the whole country before morning."
+
+But he fell back, too weak to move farther, and was silent a long time.
+When he did speak it was almost aloud.
+
+"With the cold and the snow, I'm thinking there will be worse things
+abroad this night than just the coyotes."
+
+He lay very still while Ted sat beside him, beginning to feel sleepy and
+blinking at the firelight. Eleven o'clock, twelve, one, the slow hands
+of his watch pointed to the crawling hours. Michael was not asleep but
+he said nothing, he was listening too intently. It was after one and the
+boy might have been dozing, when the old man spoke again.
+
+"Hark," he said.
+
+For a moment Ted could hear nothing save the pat-pat of the snow
+against the window, but the collie dog bristled and growled as he lay
+upon the hearth and pricked his ears sharply. Then the boy heard it
+too, a faint cry and far off, not the sharp yelping of the coyotes,
+though that was ominous enough, but the long hungry howl of a timber
+wolf. Tears of weakness and terror were running down the Irishman's
+face.
+
+"My poor sheep, I must save them," he cried. "What's the value of a
+man's life alongside of the creatures that's trusted him. Those
+murderers will have every one of them killed for me."
+
+Ted jumped up quickly and bundled on his coat.
+
+"Where's your rifle, Michael?" he asked. "I don't know much about sheep,
+but I will do what I can."
+
+"The rifle?" returned Michael doubtfully. "Now, I had it on my shoulder
+the day I went out with the sickness on me, and it is in my mind that I
+did not bring it home again. But there is the little gun hanging on the
+nail; there's no more shells for it but there's two shots still left in
+the chamber."
+
+The boy took down the rusty revolver and spun the cylinder with a
+practised finger.
+
+"Two shots is right," he said, "and you have no more shells? Well, two
+shots may scare a wolf."
+
+If Michael had been in his proper senses, Ted very well knew, he would
+never have permitted, without protest, such an expedition as the boy
+was planning. As it was, however, he lay back in his bunk again, his
+mind wandering off once more into feverish dreams.
+
+"If it was in the Old Country," he muttered, "the very Little People
+themselves would rise up to help a man in such a plight. You could be
+feeling the rush of their wings in the air and could hear the cry of the
+fairy hounds across the hills. America is a good country, but, ah--it's
+not the same!"
+
+Hoping to quiet him, Ted took the little Saint Christopher from his
+pocket and laid it in the sick man's hand. Then he finished strapping
+his big boots, opened the door and slipped out quietly. Michael scarcely
+noticed his going.
+
+The snow had fallen without drifting much, nor was it yet very deep. He
+hurried down the slope, not quite knowing what he was to do, thinking
+that at least he would gather as many sheep as he could and drive them
+homeward. But there were no sheep to be found. Where so many had been
+scattered that afternoon there was now not one. The whole of the Big
+Basin seemed suddenly to have emptied of them. Presently, however, he
+found a broad trail of trampled snow which he followed, where it led
+along a tiny stream at the foot of the bridge. As he turned, he heard
+again that long, terrifying howl coming down the wind. The sheep,
+perverse enough to scatter to the four winds when their master sought to
+drive them in, had now, it seemed, gathered of their own will when so
+great a danger threatened. Ted came upon them at last, huddled together
+in a little ravine where the sparse undergrowth gave some shelter from
+the snow. He could just see them in the dim light, their gray compact
+bodies crowded close, their foolish black faces seeming to look
+piteously to him for help. They were very quiet, although now and then
+they would shift a little, stamp, and move closer. The cry of the wolf
+was stilled at last, but not because the fierce marauder was not drawing
+nearer.
+
+Yes, as he stood watching, there slipped a swift dark shape over the
+opposite edge of the hollow and flung itself upon a straggling ewe on
+the outskirts of the flock. It was followed by a second silent shadow,
+and a third. The poor sheep gave only one frantic bleat, then all was
+still again save for the sound of a hideous snapping and tearing, of a
+furious struggle muffled in the soft depths of the snow. Ted raised the
+revolver and took careful aim, he pulled the trigger, but no explosion
+followed. Michael's improvidence in letting his stock dwindle to only
+two cartridges might be counted upon also to have let those two be damp.
+Helplessly the boy spun the cylinder and snapped the hammer again and
+again, but to no purpose.
+
+The sheep was down now, with one of the savage hunters standing over it,
+another tearing at its throat while the third was slipping along the
+edge of the flock selecting a fresh victim. Ted's weapon was useless,
+yet he must do something, he could not stand and see the whole herd
+destroyed before his eyes. Perhaps he could frighten them away as one
+could coyotes: he was so angry at this senseless, brutal slaughter that
+he lost all sense of prudence. He waved his arms up and down and shouted
+at the top of his lungs. He saw the creatures drop their prey and turn
+to look up at him. He ran along the slope, still shouting, then, of a
+sudden, stepped into an unexpected hollow, lost his balance and fell
+headlong. One of the wolves left the flock and came creeping swiftly
+toward him, its belly dragging in the snow.
+
+His cry must have carried far in the quiet of the night for it was
+answered from a great way off. A deep voice broke the stillness and
+another, the call of coursing hounds who have winded their quarry but
+have not yet found its trail. And mingled with the barking chorus there
+rose high the joyful yelp of a puppy who seeks his beloved master.
+
+Ted, slipping in the snow, struggled to his knees and called again and
+again. The stealthy, approaching shadow crept a yard nearer, then paused
+to lift a gray muzzle and sniff the air. The second wolf, with
+slobbering bloody jaws, turned to listen, the flock of sheep snorted and
+stamped in the snow.
+
+A minute passed, then another. The boy managed to get to his feet. Then
+across the edge of the hollow, white against the dark underbrush, he saw
+the dogs coming, a line of swift, leaping forms, huge, shaggy and
+beautiful, their great voices all giving tongue together. Down the slope
+they came like an avalanche, only one separating himself from the others
+for a moment to fling himself upon Ted, to lick his face in ecstatic
+greeting and to rub a cold nose against his cheek. That nimble puppy
+nose it was that had lifted the latch of a gate not too securely
+fastened, and so set the whole pack free. Then Pedro ran to join his
+brothers who were sweeping on to battle. Wolfhounds are taught to catch,
+not to kill their quarry, but the thirst for blood was in the hearts of
+the dogs of Arran that night. There was only a moment of struggle, a
+few choking cries, and the fight was over.
+
+Day broke next morning, clear and bright, with the chinook blowing, the
+big warm wind that melts the snows and lays the white hills bare almost
+in an hour. Michael Martin, fallen into a proper sleep at last, woke
+suddenly and sat up in his bunk. He startled Ted, who, rather stiff and
+sore from his night's adventures, was kneeling by the fire preparing
+breakfast. The boy came quickly to his patient's side to inquire how he
+did.
+
+"It's better I am in body," the Irishman answered; "indeed I begin to
+feel almost like a whole man again. But--" he shook his head sadly, "my
+poor wits, they're gone away entirely."
+
+Michael sighed deeply.
+
+"After you were gone last night," he answered, "even my wandering senses
+had an inkling of what a dangerous errand it was, and I got up from my
+bed and stumbled to the window to call you back. Yes, the sickness has
+made me daft entirely, for as sure as I live, I saw the white grayhounds
+of Connemara go over the hill. But daft or no--" he sniffed at the odor
+of frying bacon that rose from the hearth, "I am going to relish my
+breakfast this day. Eh, glory me, if there isn't another of the
+creatures now!"
+
+For Pedro, once more applying a knowing muzzle to the clumsy latch, had
+pushed open the door and stood upon the step, wagging and apologetic,
+the morning sun shining behind him. Long-legged and awkward, he stepped
+over the threshold and came to the bedside to sniff inquisitively at the
+little silver image that lay on the blanket. Michael could never be
+persuaded to believe otherwise than that Saint Christopher had brought
+him.
+
+[Illustration: WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 6: Reprinted by permission of the publishers from _The Pool of
+Stars_, by Cornelia Meigs. Copyright, 1915, by the Macmillan Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME[7]
+
+     ("'Tis mindin' somethin' that happened far an' back o' the times o'
+     the Little People I am. Sure, 'tis meself had nigh on forgot it
+     entirely, but when all's quiet I'll be afther tellin' it.")
+
+
+THERE was always battlin' somewhere, back in those days; an' heroes that
+fought with sword an' spear--forged far up an' under the rainbow by Len
+the Smith, that was mighty in all sorts o' wisdom.
+
+Now one time he was beatin' out a great shield o' gold; an' 'twas
+wrought so cunnin' that who turned it over an' laid it on the wather
+could step on it an' sail where he would. An' for a device on it he made
+roses o' the fine gold, raised far out from it, as they'd been growin'
+right there. Almost they seemed wavin' in the wind.
+
+An' as he came to sthrikin' the last blows, his hand slipped, an' his
+great hammer went flyin' downward through the air; an' his cry o'
+command sent ringin' afther it was too late to hindher.
+
+Now 'twas about toward sunset, an' the waves were beatin' high an' wild
+afther storm on the west coast, that Artan, son o' Duallach, that was a
+king's son, was huntin' along the coast. All day he'd been tryin' to
+keep from the company o' Myrdu, his half-brother, but only by now had he
+shaken him off; an' he was runnin' swiftly, for gladness o' bein' alone
+with the breeze an' the flyin' spray.
+
+Just as the sinkin' sun touched the sea, he heard the great cryin'-out
+o' Len, out o' the North, an' looked up into the deep sky. An' there he
+saw, whirlin' down toward him, somethin' first dark an' then bright. Not
+a fearin' thought was in him; an' as it came nigh he sprang with hand
+stretched out an' caught it --just savin' it from bein' buried in the
+beach sand.
+
+The force of its fallin' sent him to his knees, but in a breath he was
+on his feet again, lookin' at what he held. Sure, 'twas nothin' less
+than a great hammer, glowin' an' darkenin' by turns, as there had been
+livin' fire within it.
+
+"What'n ever are ye, then?" cried Artan, out o' the surprise, never
+thinkin' on gettin' an answer. Yet thrue an' at once came a whisperin'
+like wind in pine forests far off--
+
+"The hammer o' Len."
+
+"An' how'll I get ye back to him, not knowin' where to find him?" asked
+Artan. "Sure, the winds must rise up an' blow me to the end o' the
+rainbow, where he sits, or I'll never get there at all."
+
+The words were scarce past his lips when down across the hills came a
+warm gust o' south wind--the last o' the storm--an' caught him up, still
+clingin' to the hammer, an' swept him upwards till he could see naught
+for mist an' hurryin' clouds. Then came a feelin' o' sinkin', an' a
+sudden jar; an' there he was standin' on green turf, lookin' at white
+mountains, risin' higher nor aught he'd seen, an' between him an' them
+shimmered the rainbow itself, glowin' all colors in the light o' sunset.
+
+"Ay, 'tis aisy seein' where I am," laughed Artan, startin' toward it
+bravely.
+
+For a while he went on, an' at last he came nigh enough to see the
+mighty shape o' Len, standin' waitin' at his forge. An' while night was
+fast comin' on, an' the stars showin' out in the sky over all, yet the
+sunfire was still flamin' up in his smithy, workin' his will at a
+word.
+
+If fear had had place in the heart of Artan, then was time for it, when
+he saw the deep eyes o' Len, like dark sea-water in caves, lookin' far
+an' through him. But never had that come to him, an' without speakin'
+he raised the hammer toward the sthrong knotted hand that claimed it.
+
+"Whist, then!" says Len, graspin' it quick for fear the metal was
+coolin'. "Say naught till I'm done!" With that he beat an' turned the
+shield, an' gave the endin' touches to it. Then, with another big shout,
+he hung it on the rainbow, flashin' an' shinin' till men on earth below
+saw it for Northern Lights in the night sky.
+
+"How came ye here in me forge, Artan, son o' Duallach?" he cried.
+
+"That I know not," spoke out Artan. "When I held yon hammer in hand, an'
+cried on the wind for blowin' me to him that owned it--for no other road
+there was for returnin' it--the warm blast came out o' the south an'
+caught me up here."
+
+"Ay," laughed Len, deep an' hearty. "The winds are at the will o' him
+that handles it; but too great a power is that to be given careless to
+mortal man. What reward will ye have, now? Whether gold, or power above
+other men, or the fairest o' maids for yer wife?"
+
+Then the blood reddened the face of Artan.
+
+"Naught care I for gold," says he. "An' power over men should be for him
+that wins it fair."
+
+"Then 'tis the fairest o' maids ye'll be afther wantin'?" asked Len.
+"Have ye seen such a one?"
+
+"Nay," says Artan. "Dark are the faces in the house o' Duallach, an'
+little to me likin'."
+
+"Then shall ye have one fair as day," says Len. He turned to where the
+shield was hangin', an' from the heart o' that same he plucked a rose o'
+the beaten gold, an' gave it to Artan.
+
+"Cast it in the sea surf at sunrise," says he, "callin'
+'Darthuil!'--then shall ye have yer reward. But one thing mind. Safely
+yer own is she not till first lost an' won back. When ye know not where
+to seek aid in searchin', cry on me name at the sea-coast, an' aid will
+there be for ye if ye come not too late--wind, wave, an' wandherin'
+flame. Never does Len forget. Hold fast yer rose."
+
+As he spoke, again came a gale, chill from the north this time, an'
+whirled Artan past cloud an' above surgin' seas, an' left him on the
+hilltop above the beach at the last hour before the dawnin'.
+
+Quick Artan hastened down the cliff, still graspin' the golden rose, an'
+stood where the little small waves curled over the stones, waitin' for
+the first gleam o' the sun to touch the sea. Hours it seemed to him, but
+minutes it was in truth, before he caught a long breath, raised the
+rose high in air, an' tossed it swift an' sure into the snowy crest of a
+green incomin' wave.
+
+"Darthuil!" he cried, an' the cliff echo made a song of it.
+
+As the drops flew upward in the red dawn an' the breaker swept in, there
+by his side stood a maid with the gold o' the rose in her hair, an' the
+white o' sea-foam in her fair skin, an' the color o' the sunrise in lips
+an' cheek. Blither nor spring, he caught her hand an' led her over the
+hills to the house o' Duallach, they two singin' for joy o' livin' as
+they went.
+
+Now not long had the two been wed (an' welcome were they under the roof
+of Duallach), when Myrdu, that was half-brother to Artan, but older nor
+him, came back from far huntin', ill-pleased at missin' Artan for his
+companion, an' for helpin' him carry the red deer he'd shot.
+
+"'Tis an ill youth," says he, "an' will get no good from lyin' on the
+cliff edge an' lettin' the hunt go by."
+
+"Nay," says Duallach, slow to anger. "Fair fortune has he won, an' the
+favor o' the gods; an' has brought home a bride, fair as the sun at
+noon."
+
+Then was Myrdu half ragin' from bein' jealous; but not wishin' to show
+that same, he called for meat an' dhrink to be brought him in the great
+hall. An' Artan, wishin' to be friendly like, cried out for Darthuil to
+serve his brother. Sure, when Myrdu saw her comin' toward him--shinin'
+among the dark lasses o' Duallach's household like a star in the night
+sky--fury was in his heart for thinkin' that Artan, bein' younger nor
+him, had won what he had not, an' soon he laid plans for stealin' her
+from his brother.
+
+'Twas not many days before word o' this came to the ear o' Duallach; an'
+he, hatin' strife, bade Artan an' Darthuil take horse an' ride swiftly
+southward to the Lough o' the Lone Valley, to dwell on the little island
+in it till evil wishes had passed from the heart o' Myrdu. So Artan,
+mindin' what Len had foretold, yet thinkin' it wiser not to be afther
+losin' Darthuil at all, rode away with her on his left hand when Myrdu
+was sleepin' an' not knowin' what was bein' done.
+
+When he roused an' found them gone, an' that none o' the house would say
+whither, he was in a fine passion; but he made as if he was afther goin'
+huntin', an' took his two fierce hounds an' went off to trace the road
+they'd taken. An' sure enough, 'twas not many hours before he was on
+their path.
+
+Now safer would it have been had Artan told Darthuil the full raison why
+he was takin' her far into the shelter o' forest an' lough o' the
+wildherness; but she, trustin' him, asked naught, thinkin' no evil o'
+livin' man. So scarce had Artan left her in the low cabin on the island
+an' gone off to hunt, than Myrdu pushed through the bushes, leavin' the
+hounds on the shore behind, an' floated himself out to the island on a
+couple o' logs lashed with a thong o' deer-skin. Ay, but Darthuil was
+startled, not dhreamin' why he'd come.
+
+"'Tis Artan is hurt, an' afther sendin' me for ye," says Myrdu, lookin'
+down unaisy like, from not wishin' to meet the rare clear eyes o' her.
+"Come, an' I'll take ye where he lies."
+
+Not waitin' a moment was Darthuil, then, but hurried doin' as she was
+bid, never thinkin' what evil might be in store.
+
+Afther a few hours Artan came back through the trees, an' game a plenty
+he'd found. He pulled out his boat o' skins, an' quick paddled back to
+the island. But there he found no Darthuil; no, nor any sign o' her save
+the little print o' her sandal by the wather's edge.
+
+Then came to his mind the promise o' Len. Never darin' to waste an hour
+searchin' by himself, he ferried his horse across to the mainland,
+mounted, an' pushed for the sea. Never once did he stop for restin'
+till he was standin' where the waves beat over him, where he had cried
+on Darthuil, an' she had come to him.
+
+"Len!" he called. "Yer aidin', Len! Darthuil is stolen from me."
+
+There came a rumblin' o' thunder, an' on the shore stood a great figure,
+like a pillar o' cloud reachin' half to the sky.
+
+"Never safe yer own till lost an' found, I said," came the deep voice.
+"Now I give ye wild servants, a wind an' a wave an' a wandherin' flame
+for helpin' ye to bring her safe again. Mind well that each will obey ye
+but once, so call on them only when yer sharpest need comes. When ye've
+again set the feet o' Darthuil safe in the hall o' Duallach, none can
+take her from ye more. Now follow yer love. 'Tis to the Northland has
+Myrdu carried her. Let him not pass the White Rocks, or wind an' wave
+an' flame will lose power to aid ye. Use yer wit, now, an' use it well."
+
+Artan would have spoken to thank him, but with the last word Len was no
+more there; so he mounted again an' turned to the north; an' behind him
+came the wind, whisperin' over the grass; an' the wave, runnin' up the
+sthream near at hand; an' the flame, creepin' among dhry leaves, but
+settin' fire to naught else, its time not bein' come.
+
+Together they all thraveled the betther part of a long day, an' late on
+Artan saw dust risin' ahead. 'Twas a cloud that Myrdu had raised to hide
+the way he was goin', an' beyond it he was ridin', carryin' Darthuil
+before him on his saddle o' skins, with the two hounds lopin' along
+beside to fright her from tryin' to escape, an' to give warnin' of any
+followin'; while not many miles ahead were the White Rocks, that he was
+pushin' to reach.
+
+On hurried Artan, but his horse was wearied, an' little head could he
+make. Moreover, the cloud o' dust left him uncertain o' what was hid. So
+he thought well, an' chose wind to serve him first.
+
+"Go on, an' blow the dust far away, whisperin' courage to Darthuil the
+while," says he. An' at once the wind sped far ahead, obeyin' his
+command. When the two dogs felt it touch them, they cowered low; but
+Darthuil took heart, knowin' that help was at hand. An' the dust was no
+more hidin' her from Artan, so she waved her hand an' called aloud to
+him to ride in haste.
+
+Then Myrdu, fearin' that he might yet lose her, threw a handful o' twigs
+behind him in the road; an' fallin' they turned into dead trees,
+stoppin' the way on all sides. But Artan well knew the way to clear his
+path.
+
+"Go forward!" he cried to the wandherin' flame, "an' leave not a trace
+o' them!" As he spoke, the flame swept up high in air, roarin' an'
+smokin'; an' in half an instant naught remained o' the logs but a pile
+o' smoldherin' ashes. But still was Myrdu fast nearin' his goal, an' had
+one thing more for helpin'.
+
+He dropped a little sharp knife in the roadway; an' as it fell, it cut
+into the dust, an' there opened a wide, terrible chasm, not to be
+crossed by horse nor man. Then Artan grew clear desperate.
+
+"Wave!" he shouted, "bring Darthuil to me!"
+
+Up then it rose, rollin' forward like flood-tide in spring; an' it
+filled the gulf, an' swept away dogs an' horse an' Myrdu himself, that
+none were heard of from that on; but Darthuil it floated gentle like, as
+she had been a tuft o' thistle-down, back to Artan, waitin' for her.
+
+He caught her an' clasped her close, an' turned his horse, an' never
+halted till he led her safe into the hall o' Duallach, where none might
+steal her from him again. An' there they lived happy all their lives.
+
+But as for the wind an' the wave an' the wandherin' flame, so sweet an'
+fair was Darthuil that ne'er would they go from her to return to Len. To
+the last o' her life the wind blew soft for her when 'twas overly hot
+elsewhere, an' clear cool wather flowed up from the ground to save her
+dhrawin' any from the river, an' fire burned bright on her hearth
+without need o' plenishin'; an' all that for the love o' Darthuil, that
+was made by Len out o' the foam tossed by the wind from the sea-wave,
+an' the wandherin' flame o' the sunrise.
+
+[Illustration: THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 7: Reprinted by special permission from _The Sons O' Cormac_,
+by Aldis Dunbar. Copyright, 1920, by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE[8]
+
+
+ON a bright summer's day, when the sun beat down fiercely upon the heads
+of the people, King Solomon sought the shade of one of his favorite
+gardens. But even where the foliage on the trees was so thick that it
+seemed the sun's rays could not penetrate, it was also hot. Not a breath
+of air was there to fan the monarch's cheek, and he lay down on the
+thick grass and gazed through the branches of the trees at the blue sky.
+
+"This great heat makes me weary," said the King, and in a few minutes he
+had quietly fallen into a deep sleep.
+
+All was still in the beautiful garden, except for the sound of a few
+humming birds, the twittering of the moths whose many-colored wings
+looked more beautiful than ever in the bright sunshine, and the buzzing
+of the bees. But even these sounds grew still as the fierce rays from
+the sky grew hotter until all nature seemed hushed to rest. Only one
+tiny bee was left moving in the garden. It flew steadily from flower to
+flower, sipping the honey, until at length it began to feel overcome by
+the heat.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wonder what is the matter with me," buzzed the little bee.
+"This is the first time I have come out of the hive, and I do feel
+queer. I hope I am not going to faint."
+
+The little bee felt giddy, and after flying round and round dizzily for
+a few minutes it fell and dropped right on to King Solomon's nose.
+Immediately the King awoke with such a start that the little bee was
+frightened almost out of its wits and flew straight back to the hive.
+
+King Solomon sat up and looked round to see what it was that had
+awakened him so rudely. He felt a strange pain at the tip of his nose.
+He rubbed it with his royal forefinger, but the pain increased.
+
+Attendants came rushing towards him and asked him what was the matter.
+
+"I must have been stung on the nose by a bee," said the King angrily.
+"Send for the Lord High Physician and the Keeper of the Court Plaister
+immediately. I cannot have a blister on the tip of my nose. To-morrow I
+am to be visited by the Queen of Sheba, and it will not do to have a
+swollen nose tied up in a sling."
+
+The Lord High Physician came with his many assistants, each carrying a
+box of ointment, or lint, or some other preparation which might be
+required. King Solomon's nose, and especially the tip of it, was
+examined most carefully through a microscope.
+
+"It is almost nothing," said the Lord High Physician reassuringly. "It
+is just a tiny sting from a very little bee which did not leave its
+sting in the wound. It will be healed in an hour or two and the Queen of
+Sheba will not be able to notice that anything at all is the matter
+to-morrow."
+
+"But meanwhile it smarts," said King Solomon. "I am seriously annoyed
+with the little bee. How dared it sting me, King Solomon, monarch of all
+living things on earth, in the air and in the waters. Knows it not that
+I am its Royal Master to whom all homage and respect is due?"
+
+The pain soon ceased, but His Majesty did not like the smell of the
+greasy ointment which was put on his nose, and he determined that the
+bee should be brought before him for trial.
+
+"Place the impudent little bee under arrest at once," he commanded, "and
+bring it before me so that I may hear what it has to say."
+
+"But I know it not," returned the Lord High Chamberlain, to whom the
+command was given.
+
+"Then summon the Queen bee before me in an hour and bid her bring the
+culprit," answered the monarch. "Tell her that I shall hold all the bees
+guilty until the saucy little offender is produced before me."
+
+The order was carried to the hive by one of the butterflies in
+attendance on the King and spread consternation among the bees. Such a
+buzzing there was that the butterfly said:
+
+"Stop making that noise. If the King hears you, it will only make
+matters worse."
+
+The Queen bee promised to obey King Solomon's command, and in an hour
+she made her appearance in state before the great throne. Slowly and
+with much pomp, the Queen bee made her way to King Solomon. She was the
+largest of the bees and was escorted by a bodyguard of twelve female
+bees who cleared the way before her, walking backwards and bowing
+constantly with their faces to her.
+
+King Solomon was surrounded by all his Court which included living
+beings, fairies, demons, spirits, goblins, animals, birds and insects.
+All raised their voices in a loud hurrah when His Majesty took his seat
+on the Throne, and a very strange noise the Court made. The lions
+roared, the serpents hissed, the birds chirped, the fairies sang and the
+demons howled. The goblins that had no voices could only grin.
+
+"Silence!" cried a herald. "The Queen bee is requested to stand forth."
+
+Still attended by her twelve guards, the Queen bee approached the foot
+of the Throne and made obeisance to King Solomon.
+
+"I, thy slave, the Queen bee," she buzzed, "am here at thy bidding,
+mighty ruler, great and wise. Command and thou shalt be obeyed."
+
+"It is well," replied Solomon. "Hast thou brought with thee the culprit,
+the bee that did dare to attack my nose with its sting?"
+
+"I have, your Majesty," answered the Queen bee. "It is a young bee that
+this day did leave the hive for the first time. It has confessed to me.
+It did not attack your Majesty wilfully, but by accident, owing to
+giddiness caused by the heat, and it could not have injured your Majesty
+seriously, because it left not its sting in the wound. Be merciful,
+gracious King."
+
+"Fear not my judgment," said the King. "Bid the bee stand forth."
+
+Tremblingly, the little bee stood at the foot of the Throne and bowed
+three times to King Solomon.
+
+"Knowest thou not," said the King, "that I am thy royal master whose
+person must be held sacred by all living things?"
+
+"Yes, gracious Majesty," buzzed the bee. "Thy slave is aware of this. It
+was but an accident, and it is the nature of thy slave, the bee, who is
+in duty bound to obey thy laws, to thrust forth its sting when in
+danger. I thought I was in danger when I fell."
+
+"So was I, for I was beneath you," returned King Solomon.
+
+"Punish me not," pleaded the bee. "I am but one of your Majesty's
+smallest and humblest slaves, but even I may be of service to your
+Majesty some day."
+
+These words from the little bee made the whole Court laugh. Even the
+goblins which could not speak grinned from ear to ear and rolled their
+big eyes.
+
+"Silence!" commanded the King sternly. "There is naught to laugh at in
+the bee's answer. It pleases me well. Go, thou art free. Some day I may
+need thee."
+
+The little bee bowed its head three times before the King and flew away,
+buzzing happily.
+
+Next day it kept quite close to the Palace.
+
+"I want to see the procession when the Queen of Sheba arrives," it
+said, "and I also must be near the King in case His Majesty may want
+me."
+
+In great state, the beautiful Queen of Sheba, followed by hundreds of
+handsomely robed attendants, approached King Solomon who was seated on
+his Throne, surrounded by all his Court.
+
+"Great and mighty King of Israel," she said, curtseying low, "I have
+heard of thy great wisdom and would fain put it to the test. Hitherto
+all questions put to thee hast thou answered without difficulty. But I
+have sworn to puzzle thy wondrous wisdom with my woman's wit. Be
+heedful."
+
+"Beauteous Queen of Sheba," returned King Solomon, rising and bowing in
+return to her curtsey, "thou art as witty as thou art fair, and if thou
+art successful in puzzling me, thy triumph shall be duly rewarded. I
+will load thee with rich presents and proclaim thy wit and wisdom to the
+whole world."
+
+"I accept thy challenge," replied the Queen, "and at once."
+
+Behind Her Majesty stood two beautiful girl attendants, each holding a
+bouquet of flowers. The Queen of Sheba took the flowers, and holding a
+bouquet in each hand, said to King Solomon:
+
+"Tell me, thou who art the wisest man on earth, which of these bunches
+of flowers is real and which artificial."
+
+"They are both beautiful and their fragrance delicious in the extreme,"
+replied King Solomon.
+
+"Ah," said the Queen, "but only one bunch has fragrance. Which is it?"
+
+King Solomon looked at the flowers. Both bunches looked exactly alike.
+From where he sat, it was impossible to detect any difference. He did
+not answer at once, and he knit his brows as if perplexed. The courtiers
+also looked troubled. Never before had they seen the King hesitate.
+
+"Is it impossible for your Majesty to answer the question?" the Queen
+asked.
+
+Solomon shook his head and smiled.
+
+"Never yet has a problem baffled me," he said. "Your Majesty shall be
+answered, and correctly."
+
+"And at once," said the Queen of Sheba imperiously.
+
+"So be it," answered King Solomon, gazing thoughtfully round and raising
+his magic scepter.
+
+Immediately he heard what no one else did, the faint buzzing of the tiny
+wings of the little bee which had settled on one of the window panes of
+the Palace.
+
+"Bid that window be opened," he commanded, pointing to it with his
+scepter, "and let the bee enter to obey my wish."
+
+The window was promptly opened, and in flew the little bee. Straight
+towards the Queen of Sheba it flew, and now its buzzing could be heard
+by all the courtiers, who eagerly watched its flight through the air.
+Without any hesitation, it settled on the bouquet in the Queen's left
+hand.
+
+"Thou hast my answer, fair Queen of Sheba," said King Solomon, rising,
+"given to thee by one of the tiniest of my subjects. It has settled on
+the flowers that are natural. The bouquet in your right hand is made by
+human hands."
+
+The whole Court applauded the monarch's wisdom in bidding the little bee
+help him out of his difficulty.
+
+"Your Majesty is indeed the wisest man on earth," said the Queen.
+
+"Thanks, my little friend," said the King to the bee, and it flew away,
+buzzing merrily.
+
+[Illustration: THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 8: From _Jewish Fairy Tales and Fables,_ by Aunt Naomi. Robert
+Scott, London.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END[9]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn't in my
+time, nor in your time, nor in any one else's time, there was a girl
+whose mother had died, and her father married again. And her stepmother
+hated her because she was more beautiful than herself, and she was very
+cruel to her. She used to make her do all the servant's work, and never
+let her have any peace.
+
+At last, one day, the stepmother thought to get rid of her altogether;
+so she handed her a sieve and said to her: "Go, fill it at the Well of
+the World's End and bring it home to me full, or woe betide you." For
+she thought she would never be able to find the Well of the World's End,
+and, if she did, how could she bring home a sieve full of water?
+
+Well, the girl started off, and asked every one she met to tell her
+where was the Well of the World's End. But nobody knew, and she didn't
+know what to do, when a queer little old woman, all bent double, told
+her where it was, and how she could get to it. So she did what the old
+woman told her, and at last arrived at the Well of the World's End. But
+when she dipped the sieve in the cold, cold water, it all ran out again.
+She tried and she tried again, but every time it was the same; and at
+last she sat down and cried as if her heart would break.
+
+Suddenly she heard a croaking voice, and she looked up and saw a great
+frog with goggle eyes looking at her and speaking to her.
+
+"What's the matter, dearie?" it said.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said, "my stepmother has sent me all this long
+way to fill this sieve with water from the Well of the World's End, and
+I can't fill it no how at all."
+
+"Well," said the frog, "if you promise me to do whatever I bid you for a
+whole night long, I'll tell you how to fill it."
+
+So the girl agreed, and the frog said:
+
+    "Stop it with moss and daub it with clay,
+    And then it will carry the water away";
+
+and then it gave a hop, skip, and a jump, and went flop into the Well of
+the World's End.
+
+So the girl looked about for some moss, and lined the bottom of the
+sieve with it, and over that she put some clay, and then she dipped it
+once again into the Well of the World's End; and this time the water
+didn't run out, and she turned to go away.
+
+Just then the frog popped up its head out of the Well of the World's
+End, and said: "Remember your promise."
+
+"All right," said the girl; for, thought she, "what harm can a frog do
+me?"
+
+So she went back to her stepmother, and brought the sieve full of water
+from the Well of the World's End. The stepmother was angry as angry, but
+she said nothing at all.
+
+That very evening they heard something tap-tapping at the door low down,
+and a voice cried out:
+
+    "Open the door, my hinny, my heart,
+      Open the door, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words that you and I spoke,
+      Down in the meadow, at the World's End Well."
+
+"Whatever can that be?" cried out the stepmother, and the girl had to
+tell her all about it, and what she had promised the frog.
+
+"Girls must keep their promises," said the stepmother. "Go and open the
+door this instant." For she was glad the girl would have to obey a nasty
+frog.
+
+So the girl went and opened the door, and there was the frog from the
+Well of the World's End. And it hopped, and it hopped, and it jumped,
+till it reached the girl, and then it said:
+
+    "Lift me to your knee, my hinny, my heart;
+      Lift me to your knee, my own darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      Down in the meadow by the World's End Well."
+
+But the girl didn't like to, till her stepmother said: "Lift it up this
+instant, you hussy! Girls must keep their promises!"
+
+So at last she lifted the frog up on to her lap, and it lay there for a
+time, till at last it said:
+
+    "Give me some supper, my hinny, my heart,
+      Give me some supper, my darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      In the meadow, by the Well of the World's End."
+
+Well, she didn't mind doing that, so she got it a bowl of milk and
+bread, and fed it well. And when the frog had finished, it said:
+
+    "Go with me to bed, my hinny, my heart,
+      Go with me to bed, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words you spake to me,
+      Down by the cold well, so weary."
+
+But that the girl wouldn't do, till her stepmother said: "Do what you
+promised, girl; girls must keep their promises. Do what you're bid, or
+out you go, you and your froggie."
+
+So the girl took the frog with her to bed, and kept it as far away from
+her as she could. Well, just as the day was beginning to break what
+should the frog say but:
+
+    "Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,
+      Chop off my head, my own darling;
+    Remember the promise you made to me,
+      Down by the cold well so weary."
+
+At first the girl wouldn't, for she thought of what the frog had done
+for her at the Well of the World's End. But when the frog said the words
+over again, she went and took an ax and chopped off its head, and lo!
+and behold, there stood before her a handsome young prince, who told her
+that he had been enchanted by a wicked magician, and he could never be
+unspelled till some girl would do his bidding for a whole night, and
+chop off his head at the end of it.
+
+The stepmother was surprised indeed when she found the young prince
+instead of the nasty frog, and she wasn't best pleased, you may be sure,
+when the prince told her that he was going to marry her stepdaughter
+because she had unspelled him. But married they were, and went away to
+live in the castle of the king, his father, and all the stepmother had
+to console her was, that it was all through her that her stepdaughter
+was married to a prince.
+
+[Illustration: WINGS]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 9: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers, New York and London.]
+
+
+
+
+WINGS[10]
+
+
+A PEASANT girl was feeding geese, and she wept. The farmer's daughter
+came by and asked, "What are you blubbering about?"
+
+"I haven't got any wings," cried the peasant girl. "Oh, I wish I could
+grow some wings."
+
+"You stupid!" said the farmer's daughter. "Of course you haven't got
+wings. What do you want wings for?"
+
+"I want to fly up into the sky and sing my little songs there," answered
+the little peasant girl.
+
+Then the farmer's daughter was angry, and said again, "You stupid! How
+can you ever expect to grow wings? Your father's only a farm-laborer.
+They might grow on me, but not on you."
+
+When the farmer's daughter had said that, she went away to the well,
+sprinkled some water on her shoulders, and stood out among the
+vegetables in the garden, waiting for her wings to sprout. She really
+believed the sun would bring them out quite soon.
+
+But in a little while a merchant's daughter came along the road and
+called out to the girl who was trying to grow wings in the garden, "What
+are you doing standing out there, red face?"
+
+"I am growing wings," said the farmer's daughter. "I want to fly."
+
+Then the merchant's daughter laughed loudly, and cried out, "You stupid
+farm-girl; if you had wings they would only be a weight on your back."
+
+The merchant's daughter thought she knew who was most likely to grow
+wings. And when she went back to the town where she lived she bought
+some olive-oil and rubbed it on her shoulders, and went out into the
+garden and waited for her wings to grow.
+
+By and by a young lady of the Court came along, and said to her, "What
+are you doing out there, my child?"
+
+When the tradesman's daughter said that she was growing wings, the young
+lady's face flushed and she looked quite vexed.
+
+"That's not for you to do," she said. "It is only real ladies who can
+grow wings."
+
+And she went on home, and when she got indoors she filled a tub with
+milk and bathed herself in it, and then went into her garden and stood
+in the sun and waited for her wings to come out. Presently a princess
+passed by the garden, and when she saw the young lady standing there she
+sent a servant to inquire what she was doing. The servant came back and
+told her that as the young lady had wanted to be able to fly she had
+bathed herself in milk and was waiting for her wings to grow.
+
+The princess laughed scornfully and exclaimed, "What a foolish girl!
+She's giving herself trouble for nothing. No one who is not a princess
+can ever grow wings."
+
+The princess turned the matter over in her mind, and when she arrived at
+her father's palace she went into her chamber, anointed herself with
+sweet-smelling perfumes, and then went down into the palace garden to
+wait for her wings to come.
+
+Very soon all the young girls in the country round about went out into
+their gardens and stood among the vegetables so that they might get
+wings.
+
+The Fairy of the Wings heard about this strange happening and she flew
+down to earth, and, looking at the waiting girls, she said, "If I give
+you all wings and let you all go flying into the sky, who will want to
+stay at home to cook the porridge and look after the children? I had
+better give wings only to one of you, namely, to her who wanted them
+first of all."
+
+So wings grew from the little peasant girl's shoulders, and she was able
+to fly up into the sky and sing.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 10: From _The Sweet-Scented Name,_ by Fedor Sologub. Edited by
+Stephen Graham. Constable & Company, London.]
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO[11]
+
+
+IN an old time, long ago, when the fairies were in the world, there
+lived a little girl so uncommonly fair and pleasant of look, that they
+called her Snowflower. This girl was good as well as pretty. No one had
+ever seen her frown or heard her say a cross word, and young and old
+were glad when they saw her coming.
+
+Snowflower had no relation in the world but a very old grandmother. . . .
+Every evening, when the fire was heaped with the sticks she had
+gathered till it blazed and crackled up the cottage chimney, Dame
+Frostyface set aside her wheel, and told her a new story. Often did the
+little girl wonder where her grandmother had gathered so many stories,
+but she soon learned that. One sunny morning, at the time of the
+swallows' coming, the dame rose up, put on the gray hood and mantle in
+which she carried her yarn to the fairs, and said, "My child, I am going
+a long journey to visit an aunt of mine, who lives far in the north
+country. I cannot take you with me, because my aunt is the crossest
+woman alive, and never liked young people: but the hens will lay eggs
+for you; there is barley-meal in the barrel; and, as you have been a
+good girl, I'll tell you what to do when you feel lonely. Lay your head
+gently down on the cushion of the arm-chair, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, tell me a story.' It was made by a cunning fairy, who lived
+in the forest when I was young, and she gave it to me because she knew
+nobody could keep what they got hold of better. Remember, you must never
+ask a story more than once in the day; and if there be any occasion to
+travel, you have only to seat yourself in it, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, take me such a way.' It will carry you wherever you wish;
+but mind to oil the wheels before you set out, for I have sat on it
+these forty years in that same corner."
+
+Having said this, Dame Frostyface set forth to see her aunt in the north
+country. Snowflower gathered firing and looked after the hens and cat as
+usual. She baked herself a cake or two of the barley-meal; but when the
+evening fell the cottage looked lonely. Then Snowflower remembered her
+grandmother's words, and, laying her head gently down, she said, "Chair
+of my grandmother, tell me a story."
+
+Scarce were the words spoken, when a clear voice from under the velvet
+cushion . . . said: _"Listen to the story of the Christmas Cuckoo!"_
+
+
+"Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the north
+country, a certain village; all its inhabitants were poor, for their
+fields were barren, and they had little trade, but the poorest of them
+all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's
+craft, and had but one stall between them. It was a hut built of clay
+and wattles. The door was low and always open, for there was no window.
+The roof did not entirely keep out the rain, and the only thing
+comfortable about it was a wide hearth, for which the brothers could
+never find wood enough to make a sufficient fire. There they worked in
+most brotherly friendship, though with little encouragement.
+
+"The people of that village were not extravagant in shoes, and better
+cobblers than Scrub and Spare might be found. Spiteful people said there
+were no shoes so bad that they would not be worse for their mending.
+Nevertheless Scrub and Spare managed to live between their own trade, a
+small barley field, and a cottage garden, till one unlucky day when a
+new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in the capital city of
+the kingdom, and, by his own account, cobbled for the queen and the
+princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he set up his stall
+in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon found out that
+one patch of his would wear two of the brothers'. In short, all the
+mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new cobbler. The season
+had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and the cabbages
+never half closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor that winter,
+and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but a barley loaf,
+a piece of rusty bacon, and some small beer of their own brewing. Worse
+than that, the snow was very deep, and they could get no firewood. Their
+hut stood at the end of the village, beyond it spread the bleak moor,
+now all white and silent; but that moor had once been a forest, great
+roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from the soil
+and laid bare by the winds and rains--one of these, a rough gnarled log,
+lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and Spare said to
+his brother:
+
+"'Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?
+Let us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm.'
+
+"'No,' said Scrub; 'it's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,
+that root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet.'
+
+"'Hard or not we must have a fire,' replied Spare. 'Come, brother, help
+me in with it. Poor as we are, there is nobody in the village will have
+such a yule log as ours.'
+
+"Scrub liked a little grandeur, and in hopes of having a fine yule log,
+both brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between
+pulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and
+beginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers. In high glee, the
+cobblers sat down to their beer and bacon. The door was shut, for there
+was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside; but the hut, strewn
+with fir boughs, and ornamented with holly, looked cheerful as the ruddy
+blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.
+
+"'Long life and good fortune to ourselves, brother!' said Spare. 'I hope
+you will drink that toast, and may we never have a worse fire on
+Christmas--but what is that?'
+
+"Spare set down the drinking-horn, and the brothers listened astonished,
+for out of the blazing root they heard, 'Cuckoo! cuckoo!' as plain as
+ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on a May morning.
+
+"'It is something bad,' said Scrub, terribly frightened.
+
+"'May be not,' said Spare; and out of the deep hole at the side which
+the fire had not reached flew a large gray cuckoo, and lit on the table
+before them. Much as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still
+more so when it said:
+
+"'Good gentlemen, what season is this?'
+
+"'It's Christmas,' said Spare.
+
+"'Then a merry Christmas to you!' said the cuckoo. 'I went to sleep in
+the hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till
+the heat of your fire made me think it was summer again; but now since
+you have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring
+comes around--I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my
+travels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your
+trouble.'
+
+"'Stay, and welcome,' said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were
+something bad or not; 'I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch. But
+you must be hungry after that long sleep?--here is a slice of barley
+bread. Come help us to keep Christmas!'
+
+"The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from the brown jug, for he
+would take no beer, and flew into a snug hole which Spare scooped for
+him in the thatch of the hut.
+
+"Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and
+the days passed he forgot his fears. So the snow melted, the heavy rains
+came, the cold grew less, the days lengthened, and one sunny morning the
+brothers were awakened by the cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them
+know the spring had come.
+
+"'Now I'm going on my travels,' said the bird, 'over the world to tell
+men of the spring. There is no country where trees bud or flowers bloom,
+that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me another slice
+of barley bread to keep me on my journey, and tell me what present I
+shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end.'
+
+"Scrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a
+slice, their store of barley-meal being low; but his mind was occupied
+with what present would be most prudent to ask: at length a lucky
+thought struck him.
+
+"'Good master cuckoo,' said he, 'if a great traveler who sees all the
+world like you, could know of any place where diamonds or pearls were to
+be found, one of a tolerable size brought in your beak would help such
+poor men as my brother and I to provide something better than barley
+bread for your next entertainment.'
+
+"'I know nothing of diamonds or pearls,' said the cuckoo; 'they are in
+the hearts of rocks and the sands of rivers. My knowledge is only of
+that which grows on the earth. But there are two trees hard by the well
+that lies at the world's end--one of them is called the golden tree, for
+its leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they fall into the well
+with a sound like scattered coin and I know not what becomes of them. As
+for the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise,
+and some the merry tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one of
+them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make
+themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace.'
+
+"'Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree,' cried Spare.
+
+"'Now, brother, don't be a fool!' said Scrub. 'Think of the leaves of
+beaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!'
+
+"Before another word could be spoken, the cuckoo had flown out of the
+open door, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow. The
+brothers were poorer than ever that year; nobody would send them a
+single shoe to mend. The new cobbler said, in scorn, they should come to
+be his apprentices; and Scrub and Spare would have left the village but
+for their barley field, their cabbage garden, and a certain maid called
+Fairfeather, whom both the cobblers had courted for seven years without
+even knowing which she meant to favor.
+
+"Sometimes Fairfeather seemed inclined to Scrub, sometimes she smiled on
+Spare; but the brothers never disputed for that. They sowed their
+barley, planted their cabbage, and now that their trade was gone, worked
+in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living. So the
+seasons came and passed: spring, summer, harvest, and winter followed
+each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of the
+latter, Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that Fairfeather
+thought them beneath her notice. Old neighbors forgot to invite them to
+wedding feasts or merrymaking; and they thought the cuckoo had forgotten
+them too, when at daybreak, on the first of April, they heard a hard
+beak knocking at their door, and a voice crying:
+
+"'Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents.'
+
+"Spare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo, carrying on one
+side of his bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the north
+country; and in the other, one like that of the common laurel, only it
+had a fresher green.
+
+"'Here,' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, 'it
+is a long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley
+bread, for I must tell the north country that the spring has come.'
+
+"Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut
+from their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands
+before, and he could not help exulting over his brother.
+
+"'See the wisdom of my choice!' he said, holding up the large leaf of
+gold. 'As for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge. I wonder a
+sensible bird would carry the like so far.'
+
+"'Good master cobbler,' cried the cuckoo, finishing the slice, 'your
+conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother be
+disappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for
+your hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of
+you whichever leaf you desire.'
+
+"'Darling cuckoo!' cried Scrub, 'bring me a golden one;' and Spare,
+looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it were a
+crown-jewel, said:
+
+"'Be sure to bring me one from the merry tree,' and away flew the
+cuckoo.
+
+"'This is the Feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday,'
+said Scrub. 'Did ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting
+rich! Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and
+poverty!' So he went on, but Spare laughed at him, and answered with
+quaint old proverbs concerning the cares that come with gold, till
+Scrub, at length getting angry, vowed his brother was not fit to live
+with a respectable man; and, taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden
+leaf, he left the wattle hut, and went to tell the villagers.
+
+"They were astonished at the folly of Spare and charmed with Scrub's
+good sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told
+that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring. The new cobbler
+immediately took him into partnership; the greatest people sent him
+their shoes to mend; Fairfeather smiled graciously upon him, and in the
+course of that summer they were married, with a grand wedding feast, at
+which the whole village danced, except Spare, who was not invited,
+because the bride could not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother
+thought him a disgrace to the family.
+
+"Indeed, all who heard the story concluded that Spare must be mad, and
+nobody would associate with him but a lame tinker, a beggar-boy, and a
+poor woman reputed to be a witch because she was old and ugly. As for
+Scrub, he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close by
+that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to
+everybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat for holidays, and a fat
+goose for dinner every wedding-day. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown
+and fine blue ribands; but neither she nor Scrub were content, for to
+buy this grandeur the golden leaf had to be broken and parted with piece
+by piece, so the last morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with
+another.
+
+"Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage garden. (Scrub
+had got the barley field because he was the eldest.) Every day his coat
+grew more ragged, and the hut more weatherbeaten; but people remarked
+that he never looked sad nor sour; and the wonder was, that from the
+time they began to keep his company, the tinker grew kinder to the poor
+ass with which he traveled the country, the beggar-boy kept out of
+mischief, and the old woman was never cross to her cat or angry with the
+children.
+
+"Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping at their doors with the
+golden leaf to Scrub and the green to Spare. Fairfeather would have
+entertained him nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some
+notion of persuading him to bring two gold leaves instead of one; but
+the cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying he was not
+fit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where he slept so
+snugly from Christmas till spring.
+
+"Scrub spent the golden leaves, and Spare kept the merry ones; and I
+know not how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great
+lord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood
+on the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep
+moat. All the country, as far as one could see from the highest turret,
+belonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and
+would not have come then, only he was melancholy. The cause of his grief
+was that he had been prime-minister at court, and in high favor, till
+somebody told the crown-prince that he had spoken disrespectfully
+concerning the turning out of his royal highness's toes, and the king
+that he did not lay on taxes enough, whereon the north country lord was
+turned out of office, and banished to his own estate. There he lived for
+some weeks in very bad temper. The servants said nothing would please
+him, and the villagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise
+their rents; but one day in the harvest time his lordship chanced to
+meet Spare gathering water cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into
+talk with the cobbler.
+
+"How it was nobody could tell, but from the hour of that discourse the
+great lord cast away his melancholy: he forgot his lost office and his
+court enemies, the king's taxes and the crown-prince's toes, and went
+about with a noble train hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall,
+where all travelers were entertained and all the poor were welcome. This
+strange story spread through the north country, and great company came
+to the cobbler's hut--rich men who had lost their money, poor men who
+had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had gone
+out of fashion, all came to talk with Spare, and whatever their troubles
+had been, all went home merry. The rich gave him presents, the poor gave
+him thanks. Spare's coat ceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his
+cabbage, and the villagers began to think there was some sense in him.
+
+"By this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.
+There were a great many discontented people there besides the king, who
+had lately fallen into ill-humor because a neighboring princess, with
+seven islands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son. So a royal
+messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond ring, and a
+command that he should repair to court immediately.
+
+"'To-morrow is the first of April,' said Spare, 'and I will go with you
+two hours after sunrise.'
+
+"The messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at
+sunrise with the merry leaf.
+
+"'Court is a fine place,' he said when the cobbler told him he was
+going; 'but I cannot come there, they would lay snares and catch me; so
+be careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell
+slice of barley bread."
+
+"Spare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of his
+company; but he gave him a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart
+in former times, it was so thick and large; and having sewed up the
+leaves in the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the
+messenger on his way to court.
+
+"His coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the
+king could see in such a common-looking man; but scarce had his majesty
+conversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands
+were forgotten, and orders given that a feast for all comers should be
+spread in the banquet hall. The princes of the blood, the great lords
+and ladies, ministers of state, and judges of the land, after that
+discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the lighter grew their
+hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at court. The lords
+forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes and
+ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no favor.
+
+"As for Spare, he had a Chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat
+at the king's table; one sent him rich robes and another costly jewels;
+but in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,
+which the palace servants thought remarkably mean. One day the king's
+attention being drawn to it by the chief page, his majesty inquired why
+Spare didn't give it to a beggar. But the cobbler answered:
+
+"'High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and
+velvet came--I find it easier to wear than the court cut; moreover, it
+serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday
+garment.'
+
+"The king thought this a wise speech, and commanded that no one should
+find fault with the leathern doublet. So things went, till tidings of
+his brother's good fortune reached Scrub in the moorland cottage on
+another first of April, when the cuckoo came with two golden leaves,
+because he had none to carry for Spare.
+
+"'Think of that!' said Fairfeather. 'Here we are spending our lives in
+this humdrum place, and Spare making his fortune at court with two or
+three paltry green leaves! What would they say to our golden ones? Let
+us pack up and make our way to the king's palace; I'm sure he will make
+you a lord and me a lady of honor, not to speak of all the fine clothes
+and presents we shall have.'
+
+"Scrub thought this excellent reasoning, and their packing up began: but
+it was soon found that the cottage contained few things fit for carrying
+to court. Fairfeather could not think of her wooden bowls, spoons, and
+trenchers being seen there. Scrub considered his lasts and awls better
+left behind, as without them, he concluded, no one would suspect him of
+being a cobbler. So putting on their holiday clothes, Fairfeather took
+her looking-glass and Scrub his drinking horn, which happened to have a
+very thin rim of silver, and each carrying a golden leaf carefully
+wrapped up that none might see it till they reached the palace, the pair
+set out in great expectation.
+
+"How far Scrub and Fairfeather journeyed I cannot say, but when the sun
+was high and warm at noon, they came into a wood both tired and hungry.
+
+"'If I had known it was so far to court,' said Scrub, 'I would have
+brought the end of that barley loaf which we left in the cupboard.'
+
+"'Husband,' said Fairfeather, 'you shouldn't have such mean thoughts:
+how could one eat barley bread on the way to a palace? Let us rest
+ourselves under this tree, and look at our golden leaves to see if they
+are safe.' In looking at the leaves, and talking of their fine
+prospects, Scrub and Fairfeather did not perceive that a very thin old
+woman had slipped from behind the tree, with a long staff in her hand
+and a great wallet by her side.
+
+"'Noble lord and lady,' she said, 'for I know ye are such by your
+voices, though my eyes are dim and my hearing none of the sharpest, will
+ye condescend to tell me where I may find some water to mix a bottle of
+mead which I carry in my wallet, because it is too strong for me?'
+
+"As the old woman spoke, she pulled out a large wooden bottle such as
+shepherds used in the ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together,
+and having a small wooden cup hanging from its handle.
+
+"'Perhaps ye will do me the favor to taste,' she said. 'It is only made
+of the best honey. I have also cream cheese, and a wheaten loaf here, if
+such honorable persons as you would eat the like.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather became very condescending after this speech. They
+were now sure that there must be some appearance of nobility about them;
+besides, they were very hungry, and having hastily wrapped up the golden
+leaves, they assured the old woman they were not at all proud,
+notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left behind them in the
+north country, and would willingly help to lighten the wallet. The old
+woman could scarcely be persuaded to sit down for pure humility, but at
+length she did, and before the wallet was half empty, Scrub and
+Fairfeather firmly believed that there must be something remarkably
+noble-looking about them. This was not entirely owing to her ingenious
+discourse. The old woman was a wood-witch; her name was Buttertongue;
+and all her time was spent in making mead, which, being boiled with
+curious herbs and spells, had the power of making all who drank it fall
+asleep and dream with their eyes open. She had two dwarfs of sons; one
+was named Spy, and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother went they
+were not far behind; and whoever tasted her mead was sure to be robbed
+by the dwarfs.
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against the old tree. The cobbler had
+a lump of cheese in his hand; his wife held fast a hunk of bread. Their
+eyes and mouths were both open, but they were dreaming of great grandeur
+at court, when the old woman raised her shrill voice--
+
+"'What ho, my sons! come here and carry home the harvest.'
+
+"No sooner had she spoken, than the two little dwarfs darted out of the
+neighboring thicket.
+
+"'Idle boys!' cried the mother, 'what have ye done to-day to help our
+living?'
+
+"'I have been to the city,' said Spy, 'and could see nothing. These are
+hard times for us--everybody minds their business so contentedly since
+that cobbler came; but here is a leathern doublet which his page threw
+out of the window; it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was
+not idle.' And he tossed down Spare's doublet, with the merry leaves in
+it, which he had carried like a bundle on his little back.
+
+"To explain how Spy came by it, I must tell you that the forest was not
+far from the great city where Spare lived in such esteem. All things had
+gone well with the cobbler till the king thought that it was quite
+unbecoming to see such a worthy man without a servant. His majesty,
+therefore, to let all men understand his royal favor toward Spare,
+appointed one of his own pages to wait upon him. The name of this youth
+was Tinseltoes, and, though he was the seventh of the king's pages,
+nobody in all the court had grander notions. Nothing could please him
+that had not gold or silver about it, and his grandmother feared he
+would hang himself for being appointed page to a cobbler. As for Spare,
+if anything could have troubled him, this token of his majesty's
+kindness would have done it.
+
+"The honest man had been so used to serve himself that the page was
+always in the way, but his merry leaves came to his assistance; and, to
+the great surprise of his grandmother, Tinseltoes took wonderfully to
+the new service. Some said it was because Spare gave him nothing to do
+but play at bowls all day on the palace-green. Yet one thing grieved the
+heart of Tinseltoes, and that was his master's leathern doublet, but for
+it he was persuaded people would never remember that Spare had been a
+cobbler, and the page took a great deal of pains to let him see how
+unfashionable it was at court; but Spare answered Tinseltoes as he had
+done the king, and at last, finding nothing better would do, the page
+got up one fine morning earlier than his master, and tossed the leathern
+doublet out of the back window into a certain lane where Spy found it,
+and brought it to his mother.
+
+"'That nasty thing!' said the old woman; 'where is the good in it?'
+
+"By this time, Pounce had taken everything of value from Scrub and
+Fairfeather--the looking-glass, the silver-rimmed horn, the husband's
+scarlet coat, the wife's gay mantle, and, above all, the golden leaves,
+which so rejoiced old Buttertongue and her sons, that they threw the
+leathern doublet over the sleeping cobbler for a jest, and went off to
+their hut in the heart of the forest.
+
+"The sun was going down when Scrub and Fairfeather awoke from dreaming
+that they had been made a lord and a lady, and sat clothed in silk and
+velvet, feasting with the king in his palace-hall. It was a great
+disappointment to find their golden leaves and all their best things
+gone. Scrub tore his hair, and vowed to take the old woman's life, while
+Fairfeather lamented sore; but Scrub, feeling cold for want of his coat,
+put on the leathern doublet without asking or caring whence it came.
+
+"Scarcely was it buttoned on when a change came over him; he addressed
+such merry discourse to Fairfeather, that, instead of lamentations, she
+made the wood ring with laughter. Both busied themselves in getting up a
+hut of boughs, in which Scrub kindled a fire with a flint and steel,
+which, together with his pipe, he had brought unknown to Fairfeather,
+who had told him the like was never heard of at court. Then they found a
+pheasant's nest at the root of an old oak, made a meal of roasted eggs,
+and went to sleep on a heap of long green grass which they had gathered,
+with nightingales singing all night long in the old trees about them. So
+it happened that Scrub and Fairfeather stayed day after day in the
+forest, making their hut larger and more comfortable against the winter,
+living on wild birds' eggs and berries, and never thinking of their lost
+golden leaves, or their journey to court.
+
+"In the meantime Spare had got up and missed his doublet. Tinseltoes, of
+course, said he knew nothing about it. The whole palace was searched,
+and every servant questioned, till all the court wondered why such a
+fuss was made about an old leathern doublet. That very day things came
+back to their old fashion. Quarrels began among the lords, and
+jealousies among the ladies. The king said his subjects did not pay him
+half enough taxes, the queen wanted more jewels, the servants took to
+their old bickerings and got up some new ones. Spare found himself
+getting wonderfully dull, and very much out of place: nobles began to
+ask what business a cobbler had at the king's table, and his majesty
+ordered the palace chronicles to be searched for a precedent. The
+cobbler was too wise to tell all he had lost with that doublet, but
+being by this time somewhat familiar with court customs, he proclaimed a
+reward of fifty gold pieces to any who would bring him news concerning
+it.
+
+"Scarcely was this made known in the city, when the gates and outer
+courts of the palace were filled by men, women, and children, some
+bringing leathern doublets of every cut and color; some with tales of
+what they had heard and seen in their walks about the neighborhood; and
+so much news concerning all sorts of great people came out of these
+stories, that lords and ladies ran to the king with complaints of Spare
+as a speaker of slander; and his majesty, being now satisfied that there
+was no example in all the palace records of such a retainer, issued a
+decree banishing the cobbler for ever from court, and confiscating all
+his goods in favor of Tinseltoes.
+
+"That royal edict was scarcely published before the page was in full
+possession of his rich chamber, his costly garments, and all the
+presents the courtiers had given him; while Spare, having no longer the
+fifty pieces of gold to give, was glad to make his escape out of the
+back window, for fear of the nobles, who vowed to be revenged on him,
+and the crowd, who were prepared to stone him for cheating them about
+his doublet.
+
+"The window from which Spare let himself down with a strong rope, was
+that from which Tinseltoes had tossed the doublet, and as the cobbler
+came down late in the twilight, a poor woodman, with a heavy load of
+fagots, stopped and stared at him in great astonishment.
+
+"'What's the matter, friend?' said Spare. 'Did you never see a man
+coming down from a back window before?'
+
+"'Why,' said the woodman, 'the last morning I passed here a leathern
+doublet came out of that very window, and I'll be bound you are the
+owner of it.'
+
+"'That I am, friend,' said the cobbler. 'Can you tell me which way that
+doublet went?'
+
+"'As I walked on,' said the woodman, 'a dwarf, called Spy, bundled it up
+and ran off to his mother in the forest.'
+
+"'Honest friend,' said Spare, taking off the last of his fine clothes (a
+grass-green mantle edged with gold), I'll give you this if you will
+follow the dwarf, and bring me back my doublet.'
+
+"'It would not be good to carry fagots in,' said the woodman. 'But if
+you want back your doublet, the road to the forest lies at the end of
+this lane,' and he trudged away.
+
+"Determined to find his doublet, and sure that neither crowd nor
+courtiers could catch him in the forest, Spare went on his way, and was
+soon among the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he see.
+Moreover, the night came on; the wood was dark and tangled, but here and
+there the moon shone through its alleys, the great owls flitted about,
+and the nightingales sang. So he went on, hoping to find some place of
+shelter. At last the red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket,
+led him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, as if there was
+nothing to fear, and within he saw his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a
+bed of grass, at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; while
+Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited rushes, sat roasting pheasants'
+eggs by the fire.
+
+"'Good evening, mistress,' said Spare, stepping in.
+
+"The blaze shone on him, but so changed was her brother-in-law with his
+court-life, that Fairfeather did not know him, and she answered far
+more courteously than was her wont.
+
+"'Good evening, master. Whence come ye so late? but speak low, for my
+good man has sorely tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep,
+as you see, before supper!'
+
+"'A good rest to him,' said Spare, perceiving he was not known. 'I come
+from the court for a day's hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.'
+
+"'Sit down and have a share of our supper,' said Fairfeather, 'I will
+put some more eggs in the ashes; and tell me the news of court--I used
+to think of it long ago when I was young and foolish.'
+
+"'Did you never go there?' said the cobbler. 'So fair a dame as you
+would make the ladies marvel.'
+
+"'You are pleased to flatter,' said Fairfeather; 'but my husband has a
+brother there, and we left our moorland village to try our fortune also.
+An old woman enticed us with fair words and strong drink at the entrance
+of this forest, where we fell asleep and dreamt of great things; but
+when we woke, everything had been robbed from us--my looking-glass, my
+scarlet cloak, my husband's Sunday coat; and, in place of all, the
+robbers left him that old leathern doublet, which he has worn ever
+since, and never was so merry in all his life, though we live in this
+poor hut.'
+
+"'It is a shabby doublet, that,' said Spare, taking up the garment, and
+seeing that it was his own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its
+lining. 'It would be good for hunting in, however--your husband would be
+glad to part with it, I dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak;'
+and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned on the doublet, much to
+Fairfeather's delight, who ran and shook Scrub, crying--"'Husband!
+husband! rise and see what a good bargain I have made.'
+
+"Scrub gave one closing snore, and muttered something about the root
+being hard; but he rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother, and said--
+
+"'Spare, is that really you? How did you like the court, and have you
+made your fortune?'
+
+"'That I have, brother,' said Spare, 'in getting back my own good
+leathern doublet. Come, let us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this
+night. In the morning we will return to our own old hut, at the end of
+the moorland village where the Christmas Cuckoo will come and bring us
+leaves.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the morning they all returned, and
+found the old hut little the worse for wear and weather. The neighbors
+came about them to ask the news of court, and see if they had made their
+fortune. Everybody was astonished to find the three poorer than ever,
+but somehow they liked to go back to the hut. Spare brought out the
+lasts and awls he had hidden in a corner; Scrub and he began their old
+trade, and the whole north country found out that there never were such
+cobblers.
+
+"They mended the shoes of lords and ladies as well as the common people;
+everybody was satisfied. Their custom increased from day to day, and all
+that were disappointed, discontented, or unlucky, came to the hut as in
+old times, before Spare went to court.
+
+"The rich brought them presents, the poor did them service. The hut
+itself changed, no one knew how. Flowering honeysuckle grew over its
+roof; red and white roses grew thick about its door. Moreover, the
+Christmas Cuckoo always came on the first of April, bringing three
+leaves of the merry tree--for Scrub and Fairfeather would have no more
+golden ones. So it was with them when I last heard the news of the north
+country."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMPEROR'S VISION]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 11: By permission from _Granny's Wonderful Chair_, by Frances
+Browne. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE EMPEROR'S VISION[12]
+
+
+IT happened at the time when Augustus was Emperor in Rome and Herod was
+King in Jerusalem.
+
+It was then that a very great and holy night sank down over the earth.
+It was the darkest night that any one had ever seen. One could have
+believed that the whole earth had fallen into a cellar-vault. It was
+impossible to distinguish water from land, and one could not find one's
+way on the most familiar road. And it couldn't be otherwise, for not a
+ray of light came from heaven. All the stars stayed at home in their own
+houses, and the fair moon held her face averted.
+
+The silence and the stillness were as profound as the darkness. The
+rivers stood still in their courses, the wind did not stir, and even the
+aspen leaves had ceased to quiver. Had any one walked along the
+sea-shore, he would have found that the waves no longer dashed upon the
+sands; and had one wandered in the desert, the sand would not have
+crunched under one's feet. Everything was as motionless as if turned to
+stone, so as not to disturb the holy night. The grass was afraid to
+grow, the dew could not fall, and the flowers dared not exhale their
+perfume.
+
+On this night the wild beasts did not seek their prey, the serpents did
+not sting, and the dogs did not bark. And what was even more glorious,
+inanimate things would have been unwilling to disturb the night's
+sanctity, by lending themselves to an evil deed. No false key could have
+picked a lock, and no knife could possibly have drawn a drop of blood.
+
+In Rome, during this very night, a small company of people came from the
+Emperor's palace at the Palatine and took the path across the Forum
+which led to the Capitol. During the day just ended the Senators had
+asked the Emperor if he had any objections to their erecting a temple to
+him on Rome's sacred hill. But Augustus had not immediately given his
+consent. He did not know if it would be agreeable to the gods that he
+should own a temple next to theirs, and he had replied that first he
+wished to ascertain their will in the matter by offering a nocturnal
+sacrifice to his genius. It was he who, accompanied by a few trusted
+friends, was on his way to perform this sacrifice.
+
+Augustus let them carry him in his litter, for he was old, and it was an
+effort for him to climb the long stairs leading to the Capitol. He
+himself held the cage with the doves for the sacrifice. No priests or
+soldiers or senators accompanied him, only his nearest friends.
+Torch-bearers walked in front of him in order to light the way in the
+night darkness and behind him followed the slaves, who carried the
+tripod, the knives, the charcoal, the sacred fire, and all the other
+things needed for the sacrifice.
+
+On the way the Emperor chatted gayly with his faithful followers, and
+therefore none of them noticed the infinite silence and stillness of the
+night. Only when they had reached the highest point of the Capitol Hill
+and the vacant spot upon which they contemplated erecting the temple,
+did it dawn upon them that something unusual was taking place.
+
+It could not be a night like all others, for up on the very edge of the
+cliff they saw the most remarkable being! At first they thought it was
+an old, distorted olive-trunk; later they imagined that an ancient stone
+figure from the temple of Jupiter had wandered out on the cliff. Finally
+it was apparent to them that it could be only the old sibyl.
+
+Anything so aged, so weather-beaten, and so giantlike in stature they
+had never seen. This old woman was awe-inspiring! If the Emperor had not
+been present, they would all have fled to their homes.
+
+"It is she," they whispered to each other, "who has lived as many years
+as there are sand-grains on her native shores. Why has she come out from
+her cave just to-night? What does she foretell for the Emperor and the
+Empire--she, who writes her prophecies on the leaves of the trees and
+knows that the wind will carry the words of the oracle to the person for
+whom they are intended?"
+
+They were so terrified that they would have dropped on their knees with
+their foreheads pressed against the earth, had the sibyl stirred. But
+she sat as still as though she were lifeless. Crouching upon the
+outermost edge of the cliff, and shading her eyes with her hand, she
+peered out into the night. She sat there as if she had gone up on the
+hill that she might see more clearly something that was happening far
+away. _She_ could see things on a night like this!
+
+At that moment the Emperor and all his retinue, marked how profound the
+darkness was. None of them could see a hand's breadth in front of him.
+And what stillness! What silence! Not even the Tiber's hollow murmur
+could they hear. The air seemed to suffocate them, cold sweat broke out
+on their foreheads, and their hands were numb and powerless. They feared
+that some dreadful disaster was impending.
+
+But no one cared to show that he was afraid, and every one told the
+Emperor that this was a good omen. All Nature held its breath to greet a
+new god.
+
+They counseled Augustus to hurry with the sacrifice, and said that the
+old sibyl had evidently come out of her cave to greet his genius.
+
+But the truth was that the old sibyl was so absorbed in a vision that
+she did not even know that Augustus had come up to the Capitol. She was
+transported in spirit to a far-distant land, where she imagined that she
+was wandering over a great plain. In the darkness she stubbed her foot
+continually against something, which she believed to be grass-tufts. She
+stooped down and felt with her hand. No, it was not grass, but sheep.
+She was walking between great sleeping flocks of sheep.
+
+Then she noticed the shepherds' fire. It burned in the middle of the
+field, and she groped her way to it. The shepherds lay asleep by the
+fire, and beside them were the long, spiked staves with which they
+defended their flocks from wild beasts. But the little animals with the
+glittering eyes and the bushy tails that stole up to the fire, were they
+not jackals? And yet the shepherds did not fling their staves at them,
+the dogs continued to sleep, the sheep did not flee, and the wild
+animals lay down to rest beside the human beings.
+
+This the sibyl saw, but she knew nothing of what was being enacted on
+the hill back of her. She did not know that there they were raising an
+altar, lighting charcoal and strewing incense, and that the Emperor took
+one of the doves from the cage to sacrifice it. But his hands were so
+benumbed that he could not hold the bird. With one stroke of the wing,
+it freed itself and disappeared in the night darkness.
+
+When this happened, the courtiers glanced suspiciously at the old sibyl.
+They believed that it was she who caused the misfortune.
+
+Could they know that all the while the sibyl thought herself standing
+beside the shepherds' fire, and that she listened to a faint sound which
+came trembling through the dead-still night? She heard it long before
+she marked that it did not come from earth, but from the sky. At last
+she raised her head; then she saw light, shimmering forms glide forward
+in the darkness. They were little flocks of angels, who, singing
+joyously, and apparently searching, flew back and forth above the wide
+plain.
+
+While the sibyl was listening to the angel-song, the Emperor was making
+preparations for a new sacrifice. He washed his hands, cleansed the
+altar, and took up the other dove. And, although he exerted his full
+strength to hold it fast, the dove's slippery body slid from his hand,
+and the bird swung itself up into the impenetrable night.
+
+The Emperor was appalled! He fell upon his knees and prayed to his
+genius. He implored him for strength to avert the disasters which this
+night seemed to foreshadow.
+
+Nor did the sibyl hear any of this either. She was listening with her
+whole soul to the angel-song, which grew louder and louder. At last it
+became so powerful that it wakened the shepherds. They raised themselves
+on their elbows and saw shining hosts of silver-white angels move in
+the darkness in long swaying lines, like migratory birds. Some held
+lutes and cymbals in their hands; others held zithers and harps, and
+their song rang out as merry as child-laughter, and as carefree as the
+lark's thrill. When the shepherds heard this, they rose up to go to the
+mountain city, where they lived, to tell of the miracle.
+
+They groped their way forward on a narrow, winding path, and the sibyl
+followed them. Suddenly it grew light up there on the mountain: a big,
+clear star kindled right over it, and the city on the mountain summit
+glittered like silver in the starlight. All the fluttering angel throngs
+hastened thither, shouting for joy, and the shepherds hurried so that
+they almost ran. When they reached the city, they found that the angels
+had assembled over a low stable near the city gate. It was a wretched
+structure, with a roof of straw and the naked cliff for a back wall.
+Over it hung the Star, and hither flocked more and more angels. Some
+seated themselves on the straw roof or alighted upon the steep
+mountain-wall back of the house; others, again, held themselves in the
+air on outspread wings, and hovered over it. High, high up, the air was
+illuminated by the shining wings.
+
+The instant the Star kindled over the mountain city, all Nature awoke,
+and the men who stood upon Capitol Hill could not help seeing it. They
+felt fresh, but caressing winds which traveled through space; delicious
+perfumes streamed up about them; trees swayed; the Tiber began to
+murmur; the stars twinkled, and suddenly the moon stood out in the sky
+and lit up the world. And out of the clouds the two doves came circling
+down and lighted upon the Emperor's shoulders.
+
+When this miracle happened, Augustus rose, proud and happy, but his
+friends and his slaves fell on their knees.
+
+"Hail, C�sar!" they cried. "Thy genius hath answered thee. Thou art the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+And this cry of homage, which the men in their transport gave as a
+tribute to the emperor, was so loud that the old sibyl heard it. It
+waked her from her visions. She rose from her place on the edge of the
+cliff, and came down among the people. It was as if a dark cloud had
+arisen from the abyss and rushed down the mountain height. She was
+terrifying in her extreme age! Coarse hair hung in matted tangles around
+her head, her joints were enlarged, and the dark skin, hard as the bark
+of a tree, covered her body with furrow upon furrow.
+
+Potent and awe-inspiring, she advanced toward the Emperor. With one hand
+she clutched his wrist, with the other she pointed toward the distant
+East.
+
+"Look!" she commanded, and the Emperor raised his eyes and saw. The
+vaulted heavens opened before his eyes, and his glance traveled to the
+distant Orient. He saw a lowly stable behind a steep rock wall, and in
+the open doorway a few shepherds kneeling. Within the stable he saw a
+young mother on her knees before a little child, who lay upon a bundle
+of straw on the floor.
+
+And the sibyl's big, knotty fingers pointed toward the poor babe. "Hail,
+C�sar!" cried the sibyl, in a burst of scornful laughter. "There is the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+Then Augustus shrank back from her, as from a maniac. But upon the sibyl
+fell the mighty spirit of prophecy. Her dim eyes began to burn, her
+hands were stretched toward heaven, her voice was so changed that it
+seemed not to be her own, but rang out with such resonance and power
+that it could have been heard over the whole world. And she uttered
+words which she appeared to be reading among the stars.
+
+"Upon Capitol Hill shall the Redeemer of the world be
+worshiped--_Christ_--but not frail mortals."
+
+When she had said this, she strode past the terror-stricken men, walked
+slowly down the mountain, and disappeared.
+
+But, on the following day, Augustus strictly forbade the people to raise
+any temple to him on Capitol Hill. In place of it he built a sanctuary
+to the new-born GodChild, and called it HEAVEN'S ALTAR--_Ara Coeli_.
+
+[Illustration: THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 12: By permission from _Christ Legends,_ by Selma Lagerlof.
+Copyright by Henry Holt & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP[13]
+
+IT was the Eve of St. Stephen, and Teig sat alone by his fire with
+naught in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and
+a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water bucket
+outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth--a handful of
+golden cinders left, just; and Teig took to counting them greedily on
+his fingers.
+
+"There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he laughed. "Faith, there
+be more bits o' real gold hid undther the loose clay in the corner."
+
+It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching for the last
+piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare of a Christmas dinner.
+
+"Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if ye have naught to
+give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" and he laughed again.
+
+He was thinking of the neighbors, and the doles of food and piggins of
+milk that would pass over their thresholds that night to the vagabonds
+and paupers who were sure to come begging. And on the heels of that
+thought followed another: who would be giving old Barney his dinner?
+Barney lived a stone's throw from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in
+cabin; and for a score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep
+every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, had called
+across the road:
+
+"Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" And Barney had
+reached for his crutches--there being but one leg to him--and had come.
+
+"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the once;
+'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to thinking of
+the gold again.
+
+A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself down in his chair where
+the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue.
+
+"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there,
+open your door. I have not got the pay for the spriggin' this month, an'
+the childher are needin' food."
+
+But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never stirred till he heard
+the tramp of her feet going on to the next cabin. Then he saw to it that
+the door was tight-barred. Another knock came, and it was a stranger's
+voice this time:
+
+"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will
+ye take us in--the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel
+o' food have we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"
+
+But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers'
+feet passed down the road. Others took their place--small feet, running.
+It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran by:
+
+"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forget-tin' him, will ye,
+Teig?"
+
+And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, as she passed
+down the road:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even.
+    Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                      Mhuire as traugh!
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary.
+    'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!
+
+Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million murdthering curses on
+them that won't let me be! Can't a man try to keep what is his without
+bein' pesthered by them that has only idled an' wasted their days?"
+
+And then a strange thing happened: hundreds and hundreds of wee lights
+began dancing outside the window, making the room bright; the hands of
+the clock began chasing each other round the dial, and the bolt of the
+door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak or a cringe, the door
+opened, and in there trooped a crowd of the Good People. Their wee green
+cloaks were folded close about them, and each carried a rush candle.
+
+Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, when he saw the
+fairies, but when they saw him they laughed.
+
+"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, Teig," said they. "Ye
+are the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."
+
+Without saying more, they bustled about the room making ready. They
+lengthened out the table and spread and set it; more of the Good People
+trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
+and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece a-blowing their
+chanters and trying the drones. The feasting began and the pipers played
+and never had Teig seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man
+sang out:
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" And out of the
+air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig ever laid his two eyes on. The
+wee man clapped it on his head, crying:
+
+"I wish I was in Spain!" and--whist--up the chimney he went, and away
+out of sight.
+
+It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee man called for his cap,
+and away he went after the first. And then another and another until the
+room was empty and Teig sat alone again.
+
+"By my soul," said Teig, "I'd like to thravel that way myself! It's a
+grand savin' of tickets an' baggage; an' ye get to a place before ye've
+had time to change your mind. Faith there is no harm done if I thry it."
+
+So he sang the fairies' rime and out of the air dropped a wee cap for
+him. For a moment the wonder had him, but the next he was clapping the
+cap on his head and crying:
+
+"Spain!"
+
+Then--whist--up the chimney he went after the fairies, and before he had
+time to let out his breath he was standing in the middle of Spain, and
+strangeness all about him.
+
+He was in a great city. The doorways of the houses were hung with
+flowers and the air was warm and sweet with the smell of them. Torches
+burned along the streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their
+wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars.
+
+"What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one of the fairies.
+
+"They are waiting for those that are hearing mass. When they come out,
+they give half of what they have to those that have nothing, so on this
+night of all the year there shall be no hunger and no cold."
+
+And then far down the street came the sound of a child's voice, singing:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even."
+
+"Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?" And then he heard the
+fairies cry "Holland!" and he cried "Holland!" too.
+
+In one leap he was over France, and another over Belgium; and with the
+third he was standing by long ditches of water frozen fast, and over
+them glided hundreds upon hundreds of lads and maids. Outside each door
+stood a wee wooden shoe empty. Teig saw scores of them as he looked down
+the ditch of a street.
+
+"What is the meanin' o' those shoes?" he asked the fairies.
+
+"Ye poor lad!" answered the wee man next to him; "are ye not knowing
+anything? This is the Gift Night of the year, when every man gives to
+his neighbor."
+
+A child came to the window of one of the houses, and in her hand was a
+lighted candle. She was singing as she put the light down close to the
+glass, and Teig caught the words:
+
+    "Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                    Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red cap more firmly
+on his head.
+
+"I'm for another country."
+
+I cannot be telling you half the adventures Teig had that night, nor
+half the sights that he saw. But he passed by fields that held sheaves
+of grain for the birds and doorsteps that held bowls of porridge for the
+wee creatures. He saw lighted trees, sparkling and heavy with gifts; and
+he stood outside the churches and watched the crowds pass in, bearing
+gifts to the Holy Mother and Child.
+
+At last the fairies straightened their caps and cried, "Now for the
+great hall in the King of England's palace!"
+
+Whist--and away they went, and Teig after them; and the first thing he
+knew he was in London, not an arm's length from the King's throne. It
+was a grander sight than he had seen in any other country. The hall was
+filled entirely with lords and ladies; and the great doors were open for
+the poor and the homeless to come in and warm themselves by the King's
+fire and feast from the King's table. And many a hungry soul did the
+King serve with his own hands.
+
+Those that had anything to give gave it in return. It might be a bit of
+music played on a harp or a pipe, or it might be a dance or a song; but
+more often it was a wish, just, for good luck and safekeeping.
+
+Teig was so taken up with the watching that he never heard the fairies
+when they wished themselves off; moreover, he never saw the wee girl
+that was fed, and went laughing away. But he heard a bit of her song as
+she passed through the door:
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary."
+
+Then the anger had Teig. "I'll stop your pestherin' tongue, once an' for
+all time!" and, catching the cap from his head, he threw it after her.
+
+No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the hall saw him. The next
+moment they were about him, catching at his coat and crying:
+
+"Where is he from, what does he here? Bring him before the King!" And
+Teig was dragged along by a hundred hands to the throne where the King
+sat.
+
+"He was stealing food," cried one.
+
+"He was robbing the King's jewels," cried another.
+
+"He looks evil," cried a third. "Kill him!"
+
+And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall rang with: "Aye,
+kill him, kill him!"
+
+Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash on his tongue; but
+after a long silence he managed to whisper:
+
+"I have done evil to no one--no one!"
+
+"Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? Come, tell us, have ye
+given aught to any one this night? If ye have, we will pardon ye."
+
+Not a word could Teig say--fear tightened the leash --for he was knowing
+full well there was no good to him that night.
+
+"Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try hanging or beheading?"
+
+"Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig.
+
+The guards came rushing up and carried him off. But as he was crossing
+the threshold of the hall a thought sprang at him and held him.
+
+"Your Majesty," he called after him, "will ye grant me a last request?"
+
+"I will," said the King.
+
+"Thank ye. There's a wee red cap that I'm mortal fond of, and I lost it
+a while ago; if I could be hung with it on, I would hang a deal more
+comfortable."
+
+The cap was found and brought to Teig.
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, for my wee red cap, I wish I was home," he
+sang.
+
+Up and over the heads of the dumfounded guard he flew, and--whist--and
+away out of sight. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting close
+by his own hearth, with the fire burnt low. The hands of the clock were
+still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door. The fairies' lights were
+gone, and the only bright thing was the candle burning in old Barney's
+cabin across the road.
+
+A running of feet sounded outside, and then the snatch of a song:
+
+    "'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to the corner, digging fast
+at the loose clay, as a terrier digs at a bone. He filled his hands full
+of the shining gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.
+
+The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him out of the darkness.
+
+"Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? And take the rest to
+the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable an'
+dhrinkable; and to the neighbors ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this
+night.' Hurry now!"
+
+Teig stopped a moment on the threshold until the tramp of her feet had
+died away; then he made a hollow of his two hands and called across the
+road:
+
+"Hey there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 13: By permission from _This Way to Christmas,_ by Ruth Sawyer
+Durand. Harper & Brothers.
+
+Also in _The Children's Book of Christmas Stories;_ ed. by A. D.
+Dickinson and A. M. Skinner. Doubleday, Page.]
+
+
+
+
+GREEK LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE CURSE OF ECHO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CURSE OF ECHO[14]
+
+
+IN the flowery groves of Helicon, Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand
+in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the side
+of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the lightest and
+her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not one of them
+could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting mischief in
+their hearts, they would say to her:
+
+"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower,
+and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See
+thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to twine
+in thy hair."
+
+And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove.
+
+"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked.
+
+"When that time comes we shall see," said they.
+
+So with another laugh she would trip away and cast herself on the grass
+at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would relax,
+and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair.
+
+"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask.
+
+"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would answer,
+"and I have a tale--a wondrous new tale--to tell thee."
+
+"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one of
+them as long as an old man's beard."
+
+"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have
+told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of
+the one I shall tell thee now."
+
+"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the
+end."
+
+So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes fixed
+upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of words, and,
+moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which she alone
+could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding to them as
+best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best of
+tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their lies
+some grains of truth which they have picked from their own experience.
+And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, and listen
+entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene live before
+her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their hearts' content and
+never fear her anger.
+
+But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the
+prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her wrath
+flashed forth like lightning.
+
+"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she
+cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till some one else has spoken,
+and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must
+needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken."
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus.
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she
+longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass that
+she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in her
+mouth, whether she wished it or no.
+
+Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his
+companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only wandered
+further, and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. He was
+now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a flower in
+spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed for him.
+But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his heart was hard
+as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, they could kindle
+no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn them, and treat
+them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. When he was born,
+the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning him:
+
+"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy."
+
+And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor woman,
+but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that all who
+saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get from them what
+he would. But he himself knew naught of love, and therefore but little
+of grief; for love at the best brings joy and sorrow hand in hand, and
+if unreturned, it brings naught but pain.
+
+Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods,
+they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he
+went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and would not
+show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should
+not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last,
+when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one
+of his companions.
+
+"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried.
+
+"Where art thou?" answered Echo.
+
+When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear
+nothing more. Then he called again.
+
+"I am here in the wood--Narcissus."
+
+"In the wood--Narcissus," said she.
+
+"Come hither," he cried.
+
+"Come hither," she answered.
+
+Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all about,
+but could see no one.
+
+"Art thou close at hand?" he asked.
+
+"Close at hand," answered Echo.
+
+Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction of
+the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled further,
+so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But wherever
+she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he would not let
+her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had to answer, and
+so show him her hiding-place. By now they had come to an open space in
+the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a clear pool in the
+hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, with her back to the
+tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came out from the trees she
+wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped from her eyes; for she loved
+him, and longed to speak to him, and yet she could not say a word. When
+he saw her he stopped.
+
+"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked.
+
+"Who calls me?" she answered.
+
+"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said.
+
+"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him.
+
+"Who art thou?" he asked.
+
+"Who art thou?" said she.
+
+"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?"
+
+"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands beseechingly.
+
+"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?"
+
+"Why dost thou call me?" said she.
+
+At this he grew angry.
+
+"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty dance through the
+woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me."
+
+"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she.
+
+At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word
+of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired out
+with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass by the
+pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a time she
+stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and explain, but
+never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery she left him, and
+went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a while, when his
+anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered he was very
+thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool beside him, he
+bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out his hand to take
+the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which was the fairest
+face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never yet had known
+what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in the pool. With a
+sigh he held out both his arms toward it, and the figure also held out
+two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered back his sigh. When he
+saw the figure stretching out towards him and heard the sigh, he thought
+that his love was returned, and he bent down closer to the water and
+whispered, "I love thee."
+
+"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock.
+
+At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in
+his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool
+was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to
+his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been
+over-hasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again
+as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once
+again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it fled
+from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same thing
+happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking down into
+the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the figure in
+the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of longing and
+despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the flame of love
+burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no more, but
+determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for the last time
+he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he was clasping the
+empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the pool, thinking that
+in the depths, at any rate, he would find his love. But he found naught
+but death among the weeds and stones of the pool, and knew not that it
+was his own face he loved reflected in the water below him. Thus were
+the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So long as he sees not himself he
+shall live and be happy."
+
+Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when
+Narcissus cast himself into the pool she rushed forward, all too late,
+to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast herself on
+the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and her bones
+wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained and the
+curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless voice
+haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has seen
+since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of him
+beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But her
+voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that no one
+was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if once the
+curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be:
+
+"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back--come back to me!"
+
+By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had watered
+with her tears, there sprang up a sweet-scented flower, with a pure
+white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land men call
+that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his own fair
+face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon.
+
+[Illustration: HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 14: From _Children of the Dawn,_ by Elsie Finnimore Buckley.
+Stokes, London.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN[15]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time there lived a young man who would do nothing from
+morning till night but amuse himself. His parents were dead and had left
+him plenty of money, but this was fast vanishing, and his friends shook
+their heads sadly, for when the money was gone they did not see where
+more was to come from. It was not that Apuleius (for that was the name
+of the youth) was stupid. He might have been a good soldier, or a
+scholar, or a worker in gold, if so it had pleased him, but from a child
+he had refused to do anything useful, and roamed about the city all day
+long in search of adventures. The only kind of learning to which he paid
+any heed was magic, and when he was in the house he would spend hours
+poring over great books of spells.
+
+Fond though he was of sorcery, he was too lazy to leave the town and its
+pleasures--the chariot-racing, the theater, and the wrestling, and to
+travel in search of the wizards who were renowned for their skill in the
+art. However, the time came when, very unwillingly, he was forced to
+take a journey into Thessaly, to see to the proper working of some
+silver mines in which he had a share, and Thessaly, as everybody knows,
+is the home of all magic. So when Apuleius arrived at the town of
+Hypata, where dwelt the man Milo, overseer of his mines, he was prepared
+to believe that all he saw was enchanted.
+
+Now, if Thessaly is the country of magic, it is also the country of
+robbers, and Apuleius soon noticed that everybody he met was in fear of
+them. Indeed, they made this fear the excuse for all sorts of mean and
+foolish ways. For instance, Milo, who loved money and could not bear to
+spend a farthing, refused to have any seats in his house that could be
+removed, and in consequence there was nothing to sit upon except two
+marble chairs fixed to the wall. As there was only room in these for one
+person, the wife of Milo had to retire to her own chamber when the young
+man entered.
+
+"It was no use," explained Milo, "in laying out money on moveable seats,
+with robbers about. They would be sure to hear of it and to break into
+the house."
+
+Unlike his guest, Milo was always occupied in adding to his wealth in
+one form or another. Sometimes he sent down a train of mules to the
+sea, and bought merchandise which the ships had carried from Babylon or
+Egypt, to sell it again at a high price. Then he dealt in sheep and
+cattle, and when he thought he might do so with safety made false
+returns of the silver that was dug up from the mines, and kept the
+difference for himself. But most often he lent large sums at high
+interest to the young men of the neighborhood, and so cunning was he
+that, whoever else might be ruined, Milo managed to make large profits.
+
+Apuleius knew very well that his steward was in his way as great a
+robber as any in Thessaly, but, as usual, he found it too much trouble
+to look into the matter. So he laughed and jested with the miser, and
+next morning went out to the public baths and then took a stroll through
+the city. It was full of statues of the famous men to whom Hypata had
+given birth; but as Apuleius had made up his mind that nothing in
+Thessaly _could_ be what it seemed, he supposed that they were living
+people who had fallen under enchantment, and that the oxen whom he met
+driven through the streets had once been men and women.
+
+One evening he was returning as usual from a walk when he saw from afar
+three figures before Milo's house, whom he at once guessed were trying
+to force an entrance.
+
+"Here is an adventure at last," thought he, and, keeping in the shadow,
+he stole softly up behind them, and drawing his short sword he stabbed
+each one to the heart. Then, without waiting to see what more would
+befall, he left them where they were and entered the house by a door at
+the back.
+
+He said nothing of what had happened to Milo his host, but the next day,
+before he had left his bed, a summons was brought him by one of the
+slaves to appear before the court at noon on a charge of murder. As has
+been seen, Apuleius was a brave man and did not fear to face three times
+his number, but his heart quailed at the thought of a public trial.
+Still, he was wise enough to know that there was no help for it, and at
+the hour appointed he was in his place.
+
+The first witnesses against him were two women with black veils covering
+them from head to foot. At the sound of the herald's trumpet, one of the
+two stepped forward and accused him of compassing the death of her
+husband. When she had ended her plaint the herald blew another blast,
+and another veiled woman came forward and charged him with her son's
+murder. Then the herald inquired if there was not yet a third victim,
+but was answered that his wound was slight, and that he was able to roam
+through the city.
+
+After the witnesses had been called, the judge pronounced sentence.
+Apuleius the murderer was condemned to death, but he must first of all
+be tortured, so that he might reveal the names of the men who had
+abetted him. By order of the court, horrible instruments were brought
+forward which chilled the blood of Apuleius in his veins. But to his
+surprise, when he looked round to see if none would be his friend, he
+noticed that every one, from the judge to the herald, was shaking with
+laughter. His amazement was increased when with a trembling voice one of
+the women demanded that the bodies should be produced, so that the judge
+might be induced to feel more pity and to order more tortures. The judge
+assented to this, and two bodies were carried into court shrouded in
+wrappings, and the order was given that Apuleius himself should remove
+the wrappings.
+
+The face of the young man grew white as he heard the words of the judge,
+for even a hardened criminal cares but little to touch the corpse of a
+man whom he has murdered. But he dared not disobey, and walked slowly to
+the place where the dead bodies lay. He shrank for a moment as he took
+the cloth in his hands, but his guards were behind him, and calling up
+all his courage, he withdrew it. A shout of laughter pealed out behind
+him, and to his amazement he saw that his victims of the previous night
+had been three huge leather bottles and not men at all!
+
+As soon as Apuleius found out the trick that had been played on him he
+was no less amused than the rest, but in the midst of his mirth a sudden
+thought struck him.
+
+"How was it you managed to make them alive?" asked he, "for alive they
+were, and battering themselves against the door of the house."
+
+"Oh, that is simple enough when one has a sorceress for a mistress,"
+answered a damsel, who was standing by. "She burned the hairs of some
+goats and wove spells over them, so that the animals to whom the hairs
+and skins had once belonged became endowed with life and tried to enter
+their former dwelling."
+
+"They may well say that Thessaly is the home of wonders," cried the
+young man. "But do you think that your mistress would let me see her at
+work? I would pay her well--and you also," he added.
+
+"It might be managed perhaps, without her knowledge," answered Fotis,
+for such was the girl's name; "but you must hold yourself in readiness
+after nightfall, for I cannot tell what evening she may choose to cast
+off her own shape."
+
+Apuleius promised readily that he would not stir out after sunset, and
+the damsel went her way.
+
+That very evening, Hesperus had scarcely risen from his bed when Fotis
+knocked at the door of the house.
+
+"Come hither, and quickly," she said; and without stopping to question
+her Apuleius hastened by her side to the dwelling of the witch Pamphile.
+Entering softly, they crept along a dark passage, where they could peep
+through a crack in the wall and see Pamphile at work. She was in the act
+of rubbing her body with essences from a long row of bottles which stood
+in a cupboard in the wall, chanting to herself spells as she did so.
+Slowly, feathers began to sprout from her head to her feet. Her arms
+vanished, her nails became claws, her eyes grew round and her nose
+hooked, and a little brown owl flew out of the window.
+
+"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Fotis, but Apuleius shook his head.
+
+"Not yet," he answered. "I want to know how she transforms herself into
+a woman again."
+
+"That is quite easy, you may be sure," replied Fotis. "My mistress
+never runs any risks. A cup of water from a spring, with some laurel
+leaves and anise floating in it, is all that she needs. I have seen her
+do it a thousand times."
+
+"Turn me into a nightingale, then, and I will give you five hundred
+sesterces," cried Apuleius eagerly; and Fotis, tempted by the thought of
+so much money, agreed to do what he wished.
+
+But either Fotis was not so skilful as she thought herself, or in her
+hurry she neglected to observe that the bird bottles were all on one
+shelf, and the beast bottles on another, for when she had rubbed the
+ointment over the young man's chest something fearful happened. Instead
+of his arms disappearing, they stretched downwards; his back became
+bent, his face long and narrow, while a browny-gray fur covered his
+body. Apuleius had been changed, not into a nightingale, but into an
+ass!
+
+A loud scream broke from Fotis when she saw what she had done, and
+Apuleius, glancing at a polished mirror from Corinth which hung on the
+walls, beheld with horror the fate that had overtaken him.
+
+"Quick, quick! fetch the water, and I will seek for the laurels and
+anise," he cried. "I do not want to be an ass at all; my arms and back
+are aching already, and if I am not swiftly restored to my own shape I
+shall not be able to overthrow the champion in the wrestling match
+to-morrow."
+
+So Fotis ran out to draw the water from the spring, while Apuleius
+opened some boxes with his teeth, and soon found the anise and laurels.
+But alas! Fotis had deceived herself. The charm which was meant for a
+bird would not work with a beast, and, what was worse, when Apuleius
+tried to speak to her and beg her to try something else, he found he
+could only bray!
+
+In despair the girl took down the book of spells, and began to turn over
+the pages; while the ass, who was still a man in all but his outward
+form, glanced eagerly down them also. At length he gave a loud bray of
+satisfaction, and rubbed his nose on a part of the long scroll.
+
+"Of course, I remember now," cried Fotis with delight. "What a comfort
+that nothing more is needed to restore you to your proper shape than a
+handful of rose leaves!"
+
+The mind of Apuleius was now quite easy, but his spirits fell again when
+Fotis reminded him that he could no longer expect to be received by his
+friends, but must lie in the stable of Milo, with his own horse, and be
+tended, if he was tended at all, by his own servant.
+
+"However, it will not be for long," she added consolingly. "In the
+corner of the stable is a little shrine to the goddess of horses, and
+every day fresh roses are placed before it. Before the sun sets
+to-morrow you will be yourself again."
+
+Slowly and shyly Apuleius slunk along lonely paths till he came to the
+stable of Milo. The door was open, but, as he entered, his horse, who
+was fastened with a sliding cord, kicked wildly at him, and caught him
+right on the shoulder. But before the horse could deal another blow
+Apuleius had sprung hastily on one side, and had hidden himself in a
+dark corner, where he slept soundly.
+
+The moon was shining brightly when he awoke, and looking round, he saw,
+as Fotis had told him, the shrine of Hippone, with a branch of
+sweet-smelling pink roses lying before it. It was rather high up, he
+thought, but, when he reared himself on his hind legs, he would surely
+be tall enough to reach it. So up he got, and trod softly over the
+straw, till he drew near the shrine, when with a violent effort he threw
+up his forelegs into the air. Yes! it was all right, his nose was quite
+near the roses; but just as he opened his mouth his balance gave way,
+and his front feet came heavily on the floor.
+
+The noise brought the man, who was sleeping in another part of the
+stable.
+
+"Oh, I see what you are at, you ugly beast," cried he; "would you eat
+roses that I put there for the goddess? I don't know who may be your
+master, or how you got here, but I will take care that you do no more
+mischief." So saying, he struck the ass several times with his fists,
+and then, putting a rope round his neck, tied him up in another part of
+the stable.
+
+Now it happened that an hour or two later some of the most desperate
+robbers in all Thessaly broke into the house of Milo, and, unheard by
+any one, took all the bags of money that the miser had concealed under
+some loose stones in his cellar. It was clear that they could not carry
+away such heavy plunder without risk of the crime being discovered, but
+they managed to get it quietly as far as the stable, where they gave the
+horse some apples to put it in a good temper, while they thrust a turnip
+into the mouth of Apuleius, who did not like it at all. Then they led
+out both the animals, and placed the sacks of money on their backs,
+after which they all set out for the robbers' cave in the side of the
+mountain. As this, however, was some distance off, it took them many
+hours to reach it, and on the way they passed through a large deserted
+garden, where rose bushes of all sorts grew like weeds. The pulse of
+Apuleius bounded at the sight, and he had already stretched out his nose
+towards them, when he suddenly remembered that if he should turn into a
+man in his present company he would probably be murdered by the robbers.
+With a great effort, he left the roses alone, and tramped steadily on
+his way.
+
+It were long indeed to tell the adventures of Apuleius and the number of
+masters whom he served. After some time he was captured by a soldier,
+and by him sold to two brothers, one a cook and the other a maker of
+pastry, who were attached to the service of a rich man who lived in the
+country. This man did not allow any of his slaves to dwell in his house,
+except those who attended on him personally, and these two brothers
+lived in a tent on the other side of the garden, and the ass was given
+to them to send to and fro with savory dishes in his panniers.
+
+The cook and his brother were both careful men, and always had a great
+store of pastry and sweet things on their shelves, so that none might be
+lacking if their lord should command them. When they had done their work
+they placed water and food for their donkey in a little shed which
+opened on to the tent, then, fastening the door so that no one could
+enter, they went out to enjoy the evening air.
+
+On their return, it struck them that the tent looked unusually bare, and
+at length they perceived that this was because every morsel of pastry
+and sweets on the shelves had disappeared, and nothing was left of them,
+not so much as a crumb. There was no room for a thief to hide, so the
+two brothers supposed that, impossible it seemed, he must not only have
+got _in_ but _out_ by the door, and, as their master might send for a
+tray of cakes at any moment, there was no help for it but to make a
+fresh supply. And so they did, and it took them more than half the night
+to do it.
+
+The next evening the same thing happened again; and the next, and the
+next, and the next.
+
+Then, by accident, the cook went into the shed where the ass lay, and
+discovered a heap of corn and hay that reached nearly to the roof.
+
+"Ah, you rascal!" he exclaimed, bursting out laughing as he spoke. "So
+it is you who have cost us our sleep! Well, well, I dare say I should
+have done the same myself, for cakes and sweets are certainly nicer than
+corn and hay." And the donkey brayed in answer, and winked an eye at
+him, and, more amused than before, the man went away to tell his
+brother.
+
+Of course it was not long before the story reached the ears of their
+master, who instantly sent to buy the donkey, and bade one of his
+servants, who had a taste for such things, teach him fresh tricks. This
+the man was ready enough to do, for the fame of this wonderful creature
+soon spread far and wide, and the citizens of the town thronged the
+doors of his stable. And while the servant reaped much gold by making
+the ass display his accomplishments, the master gained many friends
+among the people, and was soon made chief ruler.
+
+For five years Apuleius stayed in the house of Thyasus, and ate as many
+sweet cakes as he chose; and if he wanted more than were given him he
+wandered down to the tent of his old masters, and swept the shelves bare
+as of yore. At the end of the five years Thyasus proclaimed that a great
+feast would be held in his garden, after which plays would be acted, and
+in one of them his donkey should appear.
+
+Now, though Apuleius loved eating and drinking, he was not at all fond
+of doing tricks in public, and as the day drew near he grew more and
+more resolved that he would take no part in the entertainment. So one
+warm moonlight night he stole out of his stable, and galloped as fast as
+he could for ten miles, when he reached the sea. He was hot and tired
+with his long run, and the sea looked cool and pleasant.
+
+"It is years since I have had a bath," thought he, "or wetted anything
+but my feet. I will take one now; it will make me feel like a man
+again"; and into the water he went, and splashed about with
+joy, which would much have surprised any one who had seen him, for asses
+do not in general care about washing.
+
+When he came back to dry land once more, he shook himself all over, and
+held his head first on one side and then on the other, so that the water
+might run out of his long ears. After that he felt quite comfortable,
+and lay down to sleep under a tree.
+
+He was awakened some hours later by the sound of voices singing a hymn,
+and, raising his head, he saw a vast crowd of people trooping down to
+the shore to hold the festival of their goddess, and in their midst
+walked the high priest crowned with a wreath of roses.
+
+At this sight hope was born afresh in the heart of Apuleius. It was long
+indeed since he had beheld any roses, for Thyasus fancied they made him
+ill, and would not suffer any one to grow them in the city. So he drew
+near to the priest as he passed by, and gazed at him so wistfully that,
+moved by some sudden impulse, the pontiff lifted the wreath from his
+head, and held it out to him, while the people drew to one side,
+feeling that something was happening which they did not understand.
+
+Scarcely had Apuleius swallowed one of the roses, when the ass's skin
+fell from him, his back straightened itself, and his face once more
+became fair and rosy. Then he turned and joined in the hymn, and there
+was not a man among them all with a sweeter voice or more thankful
+spirit than that of Apuleius.
+
+[Illustration: HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 15: Reprinted by permission from _The Red Book of Romance_.
+Edited by Andrew Lang. Longmans, Green & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE[16]
+
+
+This story is part of a longer one called "Alexander the Son of Philip."
+Alexander, a little bootblack living in modern Athens, is befriended by
+a blind old schoolmaster, Kyr Themistocli, to whom he promises to come
+each day and read the daily newspaper. For this service the little
+"Aleko" is to be helped with his lessons. By way of getting acquainted
+the old man asks, "Tell me, now, what do they call you?"
+
+"They call me Aleko."
+
+"From where?"
+
+"My mother lives in Megaloupolis, and I was born there and the little
+ones, but my father was not from there."
+
+Kyr Themistocli noticed the past tense.
+
+"He is dead, your father?"
+
+"Yes, it is two years ago that he died."
+
+"And from where was he?"
+
+"From Siatista."
+
+"Ah, a Macedonian! And what was his name?"
+
+"Philippos Vasiliou."
+
+"So your name is Alexandros Vasiliou?"
+
+Aleko nodded.
+
+"Alexander of the King! Alexander the son of Philip! Your master has
+taught you about him at school?"
+
+"Of course," said Aleko, frowning.
+
+     The old man smiled. There is a story about him which you have not
+     heard perhaps. Do you know how _Alexander the King got the Water of
+     Life?_"
+
+     Aleko shook his head: "We have not reached such a part."
+
+     "Well, I will tell you about it.  Listen:--
+
+"WHEN Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
+and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before him
+the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:
+
+"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of Fate,
+tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this world
+which I have made mine?'
+
+"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is written
+in the Book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on Earth can
+efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy thy kingdom
+and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee endure as long
+as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'
+
+"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be hard,
+I asked only what it was.'
+
+"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know then that he alone who
+drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
+water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
+and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed to
+death. The bones lie in high piles, of the king's sons who have lost
+their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass safely
+through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond them a
+sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must thou slay
+before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'
+
+"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring forth
+his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The king
+mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
+triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
+only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
+rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
+dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.
+
+"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
+deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened that
+his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And some
+of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to this day,
+wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke, he stretched out
+his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and found naught; and in
+his rage he would have killed the slaves who guarded his sleep, but his
+sister being of royal blood, could not hide the truth, and she told him
+that, not knowing she had thrown the Water of Life away.
+
+"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon his
+sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be turned into
+a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land and habitation
+of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens that to this day
+those who sail over the open sea in ships often see Alexander's sister,
+half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves. Strange to say, she
+does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes close to her she cries
+out: 'Does Alexander live?'
+
+"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer, 'He
+is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms and her
+long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and sinks the
+ship. But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind,
+'Does Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and
+reigns,' then the maid's heart is joyful and she sings sweet songs till
+the ship is out of sight.
+
+"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when they
+return to land."
+
+When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then said
+slowly:
+
+"That is not true--but I like it."
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 16: By permission from _Under Greek Skies,_ by Julia
+Dragoumis. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE FIRST CORN]
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CORN[17]
+
+
+A LONG time ago there lived in a Pawnee village a young man who was a
+great gambler. Every day he played at sticks, and he was almost always
+unlucky. Sometimes he would lose everything that he had, and would even
+lose things belonging to his father. His father had often scolded him
+about gambling, and had told him that he ought to stop it. There were
+two things that he never staked; these two things were his shield and
+his lance.
+
+One day he played sticks for a long time, and when he got through he had
+lost everything that he had except these two things. When he went home
+at night to his father's lodge he told his relations what he had done,
+and his father said to him:
+
+"My son, for a long time you have been doing this, and I have many times
+spoken to you about it. Now I have done. I cannot have you here any
+longer. You cannot live here in my lodge or in this village. You must go
+away."
+
+The young man thought about it for a little while and then he said:
+
+"Well, I will go. It does not make much difference where I am." So he
+took his shield and his spear and went out of the lodge and started to
+go away from the village. When he got outside of the village and had
+gone some distance, he heard behind him a loud rushing sound like a
+strong wind--the sound kept getting nearer and louder--and all at once
+it was above him, and then the sound stopped, and something spoke to him
+and said:
+
+"Well, I am here. I have come to find you. I have been sent, and am here
+on purpose to get you and take you with me." The voice that spoke to him
+was the Wind.
+
+The Wind took the young man up and carried him away towards the west.
+They traveled many days, and passed over broad prairies and then across
+high mountains and then over high, wide plains and over other mountains
+until they came to the end of the world, where the sky bends down and
+touches the ground. The last thing the young man saw was the gate
+through the edge of the sky. A great buffalo bull stands in this gateway
+and blocks it up. He had to move to one side to let the Wind and the
+young man pass through. Every year one hair drops from the hide of this
+bull. When all have fallen the end of the world will come.
+
+After they had passed through this gate they went on, and it seemed as
+if they were passing over a big water. There was nothing to be seen
+except the sky and the water. At last they came to a land. Here were
+many people--great crowds of them. The Wind told the young man:
+
+"These are all waiters on the Father."
+
+They went on, and at last came to the Father's lodge and went in. When
+they had sat down the Father spoke to the young man and said to him:
+
+"My son, I have known you for a long time, and have watched you. I
+wanted to see you, and that is why I gave you bad luck at the sticks,
+and why I sent my Wind to bring you here. Your people are very hungry
+now because they can find no buffalo, but I am going to give you
+something on which you can live, even when the buffalo fail."
+
+Then he gave him three little sacks. The first contained squash seed;
+the second beans, red and white; and the third corn, white, red, blue
+and yellow. The Father said:
+
+"Tie these sacks to your shield and do not lose them. When you get back
+to your people give each one some of the seeds and tell him to put them
+in the ground; then they will make more. These things are good to eat,
+but the first year do not let the people eat them; let them put the
+yield away and the next year again put it in the ground. After that they
+can eat a part of what grows, but they must always save some for seed.
+So the people will always have something to eat with their buffalo meat,
+and something to depend on if the buffalo fail." The Father gave him
+also a buffalo robe, and said to him:
+
+"When you go back, the next day after you have got there, call all the
+people together in your lodge, and give them what is in this robe, and
+tell them all these things. Now you can go back to your people."
+
+The Wind took the young man back. They traveled a long time, and at last
+they came to the Pawnee village. The Wind put the young man down, and he
+went into his father's lodge and said:
+
+"Father, I am here." But his father did not believe him, and said:
+
+"It is not you." He had been gone so long that they had thought him
+dead. Then he said to his mother:
+
+"Mother, I am here." And his mother knew him and was glad that he had
+returned.
+
+At this time the people had no buffalo. They had scouted far and near
+and could find none anywhere, and they were all very hungry. The little
+children cried with hunger. The next day after he got back, the young
+man sent out an old man to go through the camp and call all the people
+to come to his father's lodge. When they were there, he opened his robe
+and spread it out, and it was covered with pieces of fat buffalo meat
+piled high. The young man gave to each person all he could carry, but
+while he was handing out the pieces, his father was trying to pull off
+the robe the hind-quarters of the buffalo and hide them. He was afraid
+that the young man might give away all the meat, and he wanted to save
+this for their own lodge. But the young man said:
+
+"Father, do not take this away. Do not touch anything. There is enough."
+
+After he had given them the meat he showed them the sacks of seed and
+told them what they were for, and explained to them that they must not
+eat any the first year, but that they must always save some to plant,
+and the people listened. Then he said to them:
+
+"I hear that you have no buffalo. Come out to-morrow and I will show you
+where to go for buffalo." The People wondered where this could be, for
+they had traveled far in all directions looking for buffalo. The next
+day they went out as he had told them, and the young man sent two boys
+to the top of a high hill close to camp, and told them to let him know
+what they saw from it. When the boys got to the top of the hill, they
+saw down below them in the hollow a big band of buffalo.
+
+When the people learned that the buffalo were there, they all took their
+arrows and ran out and chased the buffalo and made a big killing, so
+that there was plenty in the camp and they made much dried meat. Four
+days after this he again sent out the boys, and they found buffalo. Now
+that they had plenty of meat they stayed in one place, and when spring
+came the young man put the seed in the ground. When the people first saw
+these strange plants growing they wondered at them, for they were new
+and different from anything that they had ever seen growing on the
+prairie. They liked the color of the young stalks, and the way they
+tasseled out, and the way the ears formed. They found that besides being
+pretty to look at they were good to eat, for when the young man had
+gathered the crop he gave the people a little to taste, so that they
+might know the words that he had spoken were true. The rest he kept for
+seed. Next season he gave all the people seed to plant, and after that
+they always had these things.
+
+Later, this young man became one of the head men, and taught the people
+many things. He told them that always when they killed buffalo they must
+bring the fattest and offer them to the Father. He taught them about the
+sacred bundles, and told them that they must put an ear of corn on the
+bundles and must keep a piece of fat in the bundles along with the corn,
+and that both must be kept out of sight. In the fall they should take
+the ear of corn out of the bundles and rub the piece of fat over it.
+Thus they would have good crops and plenty of food.
+
+All these things the people did, and it was a help to them in their
+living.
+
+[Illustration: WAUKEWA'S EAGLE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 17: By special permission from _The Punishment of the Stingy,_
+by George Bird Grinnell. Copyright by Harper & Brothers.]
+
+
+
+
+WAUKEWA'S EAGLE[18]
+
+
+ONE day, when the Indian boy Waukewa was hunting along the
+mountain-side, he found a young eagle with a broken wing, lying at the
+base of a cliff. The bird had fallen from an aery on a ledge high above,
+and being too young to fly, had fluttered down the cliff and injured
+itself so severely that it was likely to die. When Waukewa saw it he was
+about to drive one of his sharp arrows through its body, for the passion
+of the hunter was strong in him, and the eagle plunders many a fine fish
+from the Indian's drying-frame. But a gentler impulse came to him as he
+saw the young bird quivering with pain and fright at his feet, and he
+slowly unbent his bow, put the arrow in his quiver, and stooped over the
+panting eaglet. For fully a minute the wild eyes of the wounded bird and
+the eyes of the Indian boy, growing gentler and softer as he gazed,
+looked into one another. Then the struggling and panting of the young
+eagle ceased; the wild, frightened look passed out of its eyes, and it
+suffered Waukewa to pass his hand gently over its ruffled and draggled
+feathers. The fierce instinct to fight, to defend its threatened life,
+yielded to the charm of the tenderness and pity expressed in the boy's
+eyes; and from that moment Waukewa and the eagle were friends.
+
+Waukewa went slowly home to his father's lodge, bearing the wounded
+eaglet in his arms. He carried it so gently that the broken wing gave no
+twinge of pain, and the bird lay perfectly still, never offering to
+strike with its sharp beak the hands that clasped it.
+
+Warming some water over the fire at the lodge, Waukewa bathed the broken
+wing of the eagle, and bound it up with soft strips of skin. Then he
+made a nest of ferns and grass inside the lodge, and laid the bird in
+it. The boy's mother looked on with shining eyes. Her heart was very
+tender. From girlhood she had loved all the creatures of the woods, and
+it pleased her to see some of her own gentle spirit waking in the boy.
+
+When Waukewa's father returned from hunting, he would have caught up the
+young eagle and wrung its neck. But the boy pleaded with him so eagerly,
+stooping over the captive and defending it with his small hands, that
+the stern warrior laughed and called him his "little squaw-heart." "Keep
+it, then," he said, "and nurse it until it is well. But then you must
+let it go, for we will not raise up a thief in the lodges." So Waukewa
+promised that when the eagle's wing was healed and grown so that it
+could fly, he would carry it forth and give it its freedom.
+
+It was a month--or, as the Indians say, a moon--before the young eagle's
+wing had fully mended and the bird was old enough and strong enough to
+fly. And in the meantime Waukewa cared for it and fed it daily, and the
+friendship between the boy and the bird grew very strong.
+
+But at last the time came when the willing captive must be freed. So
+Waukewa carried it far away from the Indian lodges, where none of the
+young braves might see it hovering over and be tempted to shoot their
+arrows at it, and there he let it go. The young eagle rose toward the
+sky in great circles, rejoicing in its freedom and its strange, new
+power of flight. But when Waukewa began to move away from the spot, it
+came swooping down again; and all day long it followed him through the
+woods as he hunted. At dusk, when Waukewa shaped his course for the
+Indian lodges, the eagle would have accompanied him. But the boy
+suddenly slipped into a hollow tree and hid, and after a long time the
+eagle stopped sweeping about in search of him and flew slowly and sadly
+away.
+
+Summer passed, and then winter; and spring came again, with its flowers
+and birds and swarming fish in the lakes and streams. Then it was that
+all the Indians, old and young, braves and squaws, pushed their light
+canoes out from shore and with spear and hook waged pleasant war against
+the salmon and the red-spotted trout. After winter's long imprisonment,
+it was such joy to toss in the sunshine and the warm wind and catch
+savory fish to take the place of dried meats and corn!
+
+Above the great falls of the Apahoqui the salmon sported in the cool,
+swinging current, darting under the lee of the rocks and leaping full
+length in the clear spring air. Nowhere else were such salmon to be
+speared as those which lay among the riffles at the head of the Apahoqui
+rapids. But only the most daring braves ventured to seek them there, for
+the current was strong, and should a light canoe once pass the
+danger-point and get caught in the rush of the rapids, nothing could
+save it from going over the roaring falls.
+
+Very early in the morning of a clear April day, just as the sun was
+rising splendidly over the mountains, Waukewa launched his canoe a
+half-mile above the rapids of the Apahoqui, and floated downward, spear
+in hand, among the salmon-riffles. He was the only one of the Indian
+lads who dared fish above the falls. But he had been there often, and
+never yet had his watchful eye and his strong paddle suffered the
+current to carry his canoe beyond the danger-point. This morning he was
+alone on the river, having risen long before daylight to be first at the
+sport.
+
+The riffles were full of salmon, big, lusty fellows, who glided about
+the canoe on every side in an endless silver stream. Waukewa plunged his
+spear right and left, and tossed one glittering victim after another
+into the bark canoe. So absorbed in the sport was he that for once he
+did not notice when the canoe began to glide more swiftly among the
+rocks. But suddenly he looked up, caught his paddle, and dipped it
+wildly in the swirling water. The canoe swung sidewise, shivered, held
+its own against the torrent, and then slowly, inch by inch, began to
+creep upstream toward the shore. But suddenly there was a loud, cruel
+snap, and the paddle parted in the boy's hands, broken just above the
+blade! Waukewa gave a cry of despairing agony. Then he bent to the
+gunwale of his canoe and with the shattered blade fought desperately
+against the current. But it was useless. The racing torrent swept him
+downward; the hungry falls roared tauntingly in his ears.
+
+Then the Indian boy knelt calmly upright in the canoe, facing the mist
+of the falls, and folded his arms. His young face was stern and lofty.
+He had lived like a brave hitherto--now he would die like one.
+
+Faster and faster sped the doomed canoe toward the great cataract. The
+black rocks glided away on either side like phantoms. The roar of the
+terrible waters became like thunder in the boy's ears. But still he
+gazed calmly and sternly ahead, facing his fate as a brave Indian
+should. At last he began to chant the death-song, which he had learned
+from the older braves. In a few moments all would be over. But he would
+come before the Great Spirit with a fearless hymn upon his lips.
+
+Suddenly a shadow fell across the canoe. Waukewa lifted his eyes and saw
+a great eagle hovering over, with dangling legs, and a spread of wings
+that blotted out the sun. Once more the eyes of the Indian boy and the
+eagle met; and now it was the eagle who was master!
+
+With a glad cry the Indian boy stood up in his canoe, and the eagle
+hovered lower. Now the canoe tossed up on that great swelling wave that
+climbs to the cataract's edge, and the boy lifted his hands and caught
+the legs of the eagle. The next moment he looked down into the awful
+gulf of waters from its very verge. The canoe was snatched from beneath
+him and plunged down the black wall of the cataract; but he and the
+struggling eagle were floating outward and downwards through the cloud
+of mist. The cataract roared terribly, like a wild beast robbed of its
+prey. The spray beat and blinded, the air rushed upward as they fell.
+But the eagle struggled on with his burden. He fought his way out of the
+mist and the flying spray. His great wings threshed the air with a
+whistling sound. Down, down they sank, the boy and the eagle, but ever
+farther from the precipice of water and the boiling whirlpool below. At
+length, with a fluttering plunge, the eagle dropped on a sand-bar below
+the whirlpool, and he and the Indian boy lay there a minute, breathless
+and exhausted. Then the eagle slowly lifted himself, took the air under
+his free wings, and soared away, while the Indian boy knelt on the sand,
+with shining eyes following the great bird till he faded into the gray
+of the cliffs.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 18: By permission from Waukewa's Eagle, by James Buckham, in
+_St. Nicholas_, Vol. XXVIII, Part I, The Century Company.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+[Illustration: THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF]
+
+
+
+
+THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF[19]
+
+
+"YES, sir," said my host the quarryman, reaching down the relics from
+their hook in the wall over the chimney-piece; "they've hung there all
+my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em; they're
+afraid of the story. So here they'll dangle, and gather dust and smoke,
+till another tenant comes and tosses 'em out o' doors for rubbish. Whew!
+'tis coarse weather."
+
+He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat
+upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove
+past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine
+of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the
+relics on my knee. The metal of each was tarnished out of knowledge. But
+the trumpet was evidently an old cavalry trumpet, and the threads of its
+parti-colored sling, though frayed and dusty, still hung together.
+Around the side-drum, beneath its cracked brown varnish, I could hardly
+trace a royal coat-of-arms and a legend running, _Per Mare per
+Terram_--the motto of the Marines. Its parchment, though colored and
+scented with wood-smoke, was limp and mildewed, and I began to tighten
+up the straps--under which the drum-sticks had been loosely thrust
+--with the idle purpose of trying if some music might be got out of the
+old drum yet.
+
+But as I turned it on my knee, I found the drum attached to the
+trumpet-sling by a curious barrel-shaped padlock, and paused to examine
+this. The body of the lock was composed of half a dozen brass rings, set
+accurately edge to edge; and, rubbing the brass with my thumb, I saw
+that each of the six had a series of letters engraved around it.
+
+I knew the trick of it, I thought. Here was one of those word padlocks,
+once so common; only to be opened by getting the rings to spell a
+certain word, which the dealer confides to you.
+
+My host shut and barred the door, and came back to the hearth.
+
+"'Twas just such a wind--east by south--that brought in what you've got
+between your hands. Back in the year 'nine it was; my father has told me
+the tale a score o' times. You're twisting round the rings, I see. But
+you'll never guess the word. Parson Kendall, he made the word, and
+knocked down a couple o' ghosts in their graves with it, and when his
+time came, he went to his own grave and took the word with him."
+
+"Whose ghosts, Matthew?"
+
+"You want the story, I see, sir. My father could tell it better than I
+can. He was a young man in the year 'nine, unmarried at the time, and
+living in this very cottage just as I be. That's how he came to get
+mixed up with the tale."
+
+He took a chair, lit a short pipe, and unfolded the story in a low
+musing voice, with his eyes fixed on the dancing violet flames.
+
+"Yes, he'd ha' been about thirty year old in January of the year 'nine.
+The storm got up in the night o' the twenty-first o' that month. My
+father was dressed and out long before daylight; he never was one to
+'bide in bed, let be that the gale by this time was pretty near lifting
+the thatch over his head. Besides which, he'd fenced a small 'taty-patch
+that winter, down by Lowland Point, and he wanted to see if it stood the
+night's work. He took the path across Gunner's Meadow--where they buried
+most of the bodies afterward. The wind was right in his teeth at the
+time, and once on the way (he's told me this often) a great strip of
+ore-weed came flying through the darkness and fetched him a slap on the
+cheek like a cold hand. But he made shift pretty well till he got to
+Lowland, and then had to drop upon his hands and knees and crawl,
+digging his fingers every now and then into the shingle to hold on, for
+he declared to me that the stones, some of them as big as a man's head,
+kept rolling and driving past till it seemed the whole foreshore was
+moving westward under him. The fence was gone, of course; not a stick
+left to show where it stood; so that, when first he came to the place,
+he thought he must have missed his bearings. My father, sir, was a very
+religious man; and if he reckoned the end of the world was at
+hand--there in the great wind and night, among the moving stones--you
+may believe he was certain of it when he heard a gun fired, and, with
+the same, saw a flame shoot up out of the darkness to windward, making a
+sudden fierce light in all the place about. All he could find to think
+or say was, 'The Second Coming--The Second Coming! The Bridegroom
+cometh, and the wicked He will toss like a ball into a large country!'
+and being already upon his knees, he just bowed his head and 'bided,
+saying this over and over.
+
+"But by'm-by, between two squalls, he made bold to lift his head and
+look, and then by the light--a bluish color 'twas--he saw all the coast
+clear away to Manacle Point, and off the Manacles, in the thick of the
+weather, a sloop-of-war with top-gallants housed, driving stern foremost
+toward the reef. It was she, of course, that was burning the flare. My
+father could see the white streak and the ports of her quite plain as
+she rose to it, a little outside the breakers, and he guessed easy
+enough that her captain had just managed to wear ship, and was trying to
+force her nose to the sea with the help of her small bower anchor and
+the scrap or two of canvas that hadn't yet been blown out of her. But
+while he looked, she fell off, giving her broadside to it foot by foot,
+and drifting back on the breakers around Carn du and the Varses. The
+rocks lie so thick thereabouts, that 'twas a toss up which she struck
+first; at any rate, my father couldn't tell at the time, for just then
+the flare died down and went out.
+
+"Well, sir, he turned then in the dark and started back for Coverack to
+cry the dismal tidings--though well knowing ship and crew to be past any
+hope; and as he turned, the wind lifted him and tossed him forward 'like
+a ball,' as he'd been saying, and homeward along the foreshore. As you
+know, 'tis ugly work, even by daylight, picking your way among the
+stones there, and my father was prettily knocked about at first in the
+dark. But by this 'twas nearer seven than six o'clock, and the day
+spreading. By the time he reached North Corner, a man could see to read
+print; hows'ever he looked neither out to sea nor toward Coverack, but
+headed straight for the first cottage--the same that stands above North
+Corner to-day. A man named Billy Ede lived there then, and when my
+father burst into the kitchen bawling, 'Wreck! wreck!' he saw Billy
+Ede's wife, Ann, standing there in her clogs, with a shawl over her
+head, and her clothes wringing wet.
+
+"'Save the chap!' says Billy Ede's wife, Ann. 'What d' 'ee means by
+crying stale fish at that rate?'
+
+"'But 'tis a wreck. I tell 'ee. I've azeed'n!'
+
+"'Why, so 'tis,' says she, 'and I've azeed'n, too; and so has every one
+with an eye in his head.'
+
+"And with that she pointed straight over my father's shoulder, and he
+turned: and there, close under Dolor Point, at the end of Coverack town,
+he saw another wreck washing, and the Point black with people, like
+emmets, running to and fro in the morning light. While we stood staring
+at her, he heard a trumpet sounded on board, the notes coming in little
+jerks, like a bird rising against the wind; but faintly, of course,
+because of the distance and the gale blowing--though this had dropped a
+little.
+
+"'She's a transport,' said Billy Ede's wife, Ann, 'and full of horse
+soldiers, fine long men. When she struck they must ha' pitched the
+hosses over first to lighten the ship, for a score of dead hosses had
+washed in afore I left, half an hour back. An' three or four soldiers,
+too--fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of blue and gold. I
+held the lantern to one. Such a straight young man.'
+
+"My father asked her about the trumpeting.
+
+"'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me an' my
+man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone; whether they
+were carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't rightly know.
+Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rocks with her decks bare. Her keelson
+was broke under her and her bottom sagged and stove, and she had just
+settled down like a sitting hen--just the leastest list to starboard;
+but a man could stand there easy. They had rigged up ropes across her,
+from bulwark to bulwark, an' beside these the men were mustered, holding
+on like grim death whenever the sea made a clean breach over them, an'
+standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the
+officers were clinging to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their
+golden uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they
+expected. There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of
+line, though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a
+trumpeter, a whacking big man, an' between the heavy seas he would lift
+his trumpet with one hand, and blow a call; and every time he blew the
+men gave a cheer. There (she says)--hark 'ee now--there he goes agen!
+But you won't hear no cheering any more, for few are left to cheer, and
+their voices weak. Bitter cold the wind is, and I reckon it numbs their
+grip o' the ropes, for they were dropping off fast with every sea when
+my man sent me home to get his breakfast. Another wreck, you say? Well,
+there's no hope for the tender dears, if 'tis the Manacles. You'd better
+run down and help yonder; though 'tis little help that any man can give.
+Not one came in alive while I was there. The tide's flowing, an' she
+won't hold together another hour, they say.'
+
+"Well, sure enough, the end was coming fast when my father got down to
+the point. Six men had been cast up alive, or just breathing--a seaman
+and five troopers. The seaman was the only one that had breath to speak;
+and while they were carrying him into the town, the word went round
+that the ship's name was the Despatch, transport, homeward bound from
+Corunna, with a detachment of the 7th Hussars, that had been fighting
+out there with Sir John Moore. The seas had rolled her farther over by
+this time, and given her decks a pretty sharp slope; but a dozen men
+still held on, seven by the ropes near the ship's waist, a couple near
+the break of the poop, and three on the quarter-deck. Of these three my
+father made out one to be the skipper; close by him clung an officer in
+full regimentals--his name, they heard after, was Captain Duncanfield;
+and last came the tall trumpeter; and if you'll believe me, the fellow
+was making shift there, at the very last, to blow _'God Save the King.'_
+What's more, he got to _'Send Us Victorious'_ before an extra big sea
+came bursting across and washed them off the deck--every man but one of
+the pair beneath the poop--and _he_ dropped his hold before the next
+wave; being stunned, I reckon. The others went out of sight at once, but
+the trumpeter--being, as I said, a powerful man as well as a tough
+swimmer--rose like a duck, rode out a couple of breakers, and came in on
+the crest of the third. The folks looked to see him broke like an egg at
+their feet; but when the smother cleared, there he was, lying face
+downward on a ledge below them; and one of the men that happened to have
+a rope round him--I forget the fellow's name, if I ever heard it--jumped
+down and grabbed him by the ankle as he began to slip back. Before the
+next big sea, the pair were hauled high enough to be out of harm, and
+another heave brought them up to grass. Quick work; but master trumpeter
+wasn't quite dead! nothing worse than a cracked head and three staved
+ribs. In twenty minutes or so they had him in bed, with the doctor to
+tend him.
+
+"Now was the time--nothing being left alive upon the transport--for my
+father to tell of the sloop he'd seen driving upon the Manacles. And
+when he got a hearing, though the most were set upon salvage, and
+believed a wreck in the hand, so to say, to be worth half a dozen they
+couldn't see, a good few volunteered to start off with him and have a
+look. They crossed Lowland Point; no ship to be seen on the Manacles,
+nor anywhere upon the sea. One or two was for calling my father a liar.
+'Wait till we come to Dean Point,' said he. Sure enough, on the far side
+of Dean Point, they found the sloop's mainmast washing about with half a
+dozen men lashed to it--men in red jackets--every mother's son drowned
+and staring; and a little farther on, just under the Dean, three or
+four bodies cast up on the shore, one of them a small drummer-boy,
+side-drum and all; and, near by, part of a ship's gig, with 'H. M. S.
+Primrose' cut on the stern-board. From this point on, the shore was
+littered thick with wreckage and dead bodies--the most of them marines
+in uniform; and in Godrevy Cove in particular, a heap of furniture from
+the captain's cabin, and among it a water-tight box, not much damaged,
+and full of papers, by which, when it came to be examined next day, the
+wreck was easily made out to be the Primrose of eighteen guns, outward
+bound from Portsmouth, with a fleet of transports for the Spanish War,
+thirty sail, I've heard, but I've never heard what became of them. Being
+handled by merchant skippers, no doubt they rode out the gale and
+reached the Tagus safe and sound. Not but what the captain of the
+Primrose (Mein was his name) did quite right to try and club-haul his
+vessel when he found himself under the land; only he never ought to have
+got there if he took proper soundings. But it's easy talking.
+
+"The Primrose, sir, was a handsome vessel--for her size, one of the
+handsomest in the King's service--and newly fitted out at Plymouth Dock.
+So the boys had brave pickings from her in the way of brass-work,
+ship's instruments, and the like, let alone some barrels of stores not
+much spoiled. They loaded themselves with as much as they could carry,
+and started for home, meaning to make a second journey before the
+preventive men got wind of their doings and came to spoil the fun. But
+as my father was passing back under the Dean, he happened to take a look
+over his shoulder at the bodies there. 'Hullo,' says he, and dropped his
+gear, 'I do believe there's a leg moving!' And, running fore, he stooped
+over the small drummer-boy that I told you about. The poor little chap
+was lying there, with his face a mass of bruises and his eyes closed:
+but he had shifted one leg an inch or two, and was still breathing. So
+my father pulled out a knife and cut him free from his drum--that was
+lashed on to him with a double turn of Manilla rope--and took him up and
+carried him along here, to this very room that we're sitting in. He lost
+a good deal by this, for when he went back to fetch his bundle the
+preventive men had got hold of it, and were thick as thieves along the
+foreshore; so that 'twas only by paying one or two to look the other way
+that he picked up anything worth carrying off: which you'll allow to be
+hard, seeing that he was the first man to give news of the wreck.
+
+"Well, the inquiry was held, of course, and my father gave evidence, and
+for the rest they had to trust to the sloop's papers, for not a soul was
+saved besides the drummer-boy, and he was raving in a fever, brought on
+by the cold and the fright. And the seamen and the five troopers gave
+evidence about the loss of the Despatch. The tall trumpeter, too, whose
+ribs were healing, came forward and kissed the book; but somehow his
+head had been hurt in coming ashore, and he talked foolish-like, and
+'twas easy seen he would never be a proper man again. The others were
+taken up to Plymouth, and so went their ways; but the trumpeter stayed
+on in Coverick; and King George, finding he was fit for nothing, sent
+him down a trifle of a pension after a while--enough to keep him in
+board and lodging, with a bit of tobacco over.
+
+"Now the first time that this man--William Tallifer, he called
+himself--met with the drummer-boy, was about a fortnight after the
+little chap had bettered enough to be allowed a short walk out of doors,
+which he took, if you please, in full regimentals. There never was a
+soldier so proud of his dress. His own suit had shrunk a brave bit with
+the salt water; but into ordinary frock an' corduroys he declared he
+would not get--not if he had to go naked the rest of his life; so my
+father, being a good-natured man and handy with the needle, turned to
+and repaired damages with a piece or two of scarlet cloth cut from the
+jacket of one of the drowned Marines. Well, the poor little chap chanced
+to be standing, in this rig-out, down by the gate of Gunner's Meadow,
+where they had buried two-score and over of his comrades. The morning
+was a fine one, early in March month; and along came the cracked
+trumpeter, likewise taking a stroll.
+
+"'Hullo!' says he; 'good-mornin'! And what might you be doin' here?'
+
+"'I was a-wishin',' says the boy, 'I had a pair o' drumsticks. Our lads
+were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a musket fired;
+and that's not Christian burial for British soldiers.'
+
+"'Phut!' says the trumpeter, and spat on the ground; 'a parcel of
+Marines!'
+
+"The boy eyed him a second or so, but answered up: 'If I'd a tab of turf
+handy, I'd bung it at your mouth, you greasy cavalryman, and learn you
+to speak respectful of your betters. The Marines are the handiest body
+of men in the service.'
+
+"The trumpeter looked down on him from the height of six foot two, and
+asked: 'Did they die well?'
+
+"'They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first,
+and some of the men began to cry, and a few to strip off their clothes.
+But when the ship fell off for the last time, Captain Mein turned and
+said something to Major Griffiths, the commanding officer on board, and
+the Major called out to me to beat to quarters. It might have been for a
+wedding, he sang it out so cheerful. We'd had word already that 'twas to
+be parade order, and the men fell in as trim and decent as if they were
+going to church. One or two even tried to shave at the last moment. The
+Major wore his medals. One of the seamen, seeing that I had hard work to
+keep the drum steady--the sling being a bit loose for me and the wind
+what you remember--lashed it tight with a piece of rope; and that saved
+my life afterward, a drum being as good as a cork until it's stove. I
+kept beating away until every man was on deck; and then the Major formed
+them up and told them to die like British soldiers, and the chaplain
+read a prayer or two--the boys standin' all the while like rocks, each
+man's courage keeping up the other's. The chaplain was in the middle of
+a prayer when she struck. In ten minutes she was gone. That was how they
+died, cavalryman.'
+
+"'And that was very well done, drummer of the Marines. What's your
+name?'
+
+"'John Christian.'
+
+"'Mine's William George Tallifer, trumpeter, of the 7th Light
+Dragoons--the Queen's Own. I played _'God Save the King'_ while our men
+were drowning. Captain Duncanfield told me to sound a call or two, to
+put them in heart; but that matter of _'God Save the King'_ was a notion
+of my own. I won't say anything to hurt the feelings of a Marine, even
+if he's not much over five foot tall; but the Queen's Own Hussars is a
+tearin' fine regiment. As between horse and foot 'tis a question o'
+which gets the chance. All the way from Sahagun to Corunna 'twas we that
+took and gave the knocks--at Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.' (The
+reason, sir, I can speak the names so pat is that my father learnt 'em
+by heart afterward from the trumpeter, who was always talking about
+Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.) 'We made the rearguard, under General
+Paget, and drove the French every time; and all the infantry did was to
+sit about in wine-shops till we whipped 'em out, an' steal an' straggle
+an' play the tom-fool in general. And when it came to a stand-up fight
+at Corunna, 'twas we that had to stay sea-sick aboard the transports,
+an' watch the infantry in the thick o' the caper. Very well they
+behaved, too; 'specially the 4th Regiment, an' the 42d Highlanders, an'
+the Dirty Half-Hundred. Oh, ay; they're decent regiments, all three. But
+the Queen's Own Hussars is a tearin' fine regiment. So you played on
+your drum when the ship was goin' down? Drummer John Christian, I'll
+have to get you a new pair o' drum-sticks for that.'
+
+"Well, sir, it appears that the very next day the trumpeter marched into
+Helston, and got a carpenter there to turn him a pair of box-wood
+drum-sticks for the boy. And this was the beginning of one of the most
+curious friendships you ever heard tell of. Nothing delighted the pair
+more than to borrow a boat of my father and pull out to the rocks where
+the Primrose and the Despatch had struck and sunk; and on still days
+'twas pretty to hear them out there off the Manacles, the drummer
+playing his tattoo--for they always took their music with them--and the
+trumpeter practising calls, and making his trumpet speak like an angel.
+But if the weather turned roughish, they'd be walking together and
+talking; leastwise, the youngster listened while the other discoursed
+about Sir John's campaign in Spain and Portugal, telling how each little
+skirmish befell; and of Sir John himself, and General Baird and General
+Paget, and Colonel Vivian his own commanding officer, and what kind men
+they were; and of the last bloody stand-up at Corunna, and so forth, as
+if neither could have enough.
+
+"But all this had to come to an end in the late summer, for the boy,
+John Christian, being now well and strong again, must go up to Plymouth
+to report himself. 'Twas his own wish (for I believe King George had
+forgotten all about him), but his friend wouldn't hold him back. As for
+the trumpeter, my father had made an arrangement to take him on as a
+lodger as soon as the boy left; and on the morning fixed for the start
+he was up at the door here by five o'clock, with his trumpet slung by
+his side, and all the rest of his belongings in a small valise. A Monday
+morning it was, and after breakfast he had fixed to walk with the boy
+some way on the road toward Helston, where the coach started. My father
+left them at breakfast together, and went out to meat the pig, and do a
+few odd morning jobs of that sort. When he came back, the boy was still
+at table, and the trumpeter standing here by the chimney-place with the
+drum and trumpet in his hands, hitched together just as they be at this
+moment.
+
+"'Look at this,' he says to my father, showing him the lock; 'I picked
+it up off a starving brass-worker in Lisbon, and it is not one of your
+common locks that one word of six letters will open at any time. There's
+_janius_ in this lock; for you've only to make the ring spell any
+six-letter word you please, and snap down the lock upon that, and never
+a soul can open it--not the maker, even--until somebody comes along that
+knows the word you snapped it on. Now, Johnny, here's goin', and he
+leaves his drum behind him; for, though he can make pretty music on it,
+the parchment sags in wet weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at
+it; an' if he carries it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give
+him another. And as for me, I shan't have the heart to put lip to the
+trumpet any more when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together,
+and locked 'em together upon that; and, by your leave, I'll hang 'em
+here together on the hook over your fireplace. Maybe Johnny'll come
+back; maybe not. Maybe, if he comes, I'll be dead an' gone, an' he'll
+take 'em apart an' try their music for old sake's sake. But if he never
+comes, nobody can separate 'em; for nobody besides knows the word. And
+if you marry and have sons, you can tell 'em that here are tied together
+the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer, of the Marines, and William
+George Tallifer, once trumpeter of the Queen's Own Hussars. Amen.'
+
+"With that he hung the two instruments 'pon the hook there; and the boy
+stood up and thanked my father and shook hands; and the pair went forth
+of the door, toward Helston.
+
+"Somewhere on the road they took leave of one another; but nobody saw
+the parting, nor heard what was said between them. About three in the
+afternoon the trumpeter came walking back over the hill; and by the time
+my father came home from the fishing, the cottage was tidied up and the
+tea ready, and the whole place shining like a new pin. From that time
+for five years he lodged here with my father, looking after the house
+and tilling the garden; and all the while he was steadily failing, the
+hurt in his head spreading, in a manner, to his limbs. My father watched
+the feebleness growing on him, but said nothing. And from first to last
+neither spake a word about the drummer, John Christian; nor did any
+letter reach them, nor word of his doings.
+
+     "The rest of the tale you'm free to believe, sir, or not, as you
+     please. It stands upon my father's words, and he always declared he
+     was ready to kiss the Book upon it before judge and jury. He said,
+     too, that he never had the wit to make up such a yarn; and he
+     defied any one to explain about the lock, in particular, by any
+     other tale. But you shall judge for yourself.
+
+
+"My father said that about three o'clock in the morning, April
+fourteenth of the year 'fourteen, he and William Tallifer were sitting
+here, just as you and I, sir, are sitting now. My father had put on his
+clothes a few minutes before, and was mending his spiller by the light
+of the horn lantern, meaning to set off before daylight to haul the
+trammel. The trumpeter hadn't been to bed at all. Toward the last he
+mostly spent his nights (and his days, too) dozing in the elbow-chair
+where you sit at this minute. He was dozing then (my father said), with
+his chin dropped forward on his chest, when a knock sounded upon the
+door, and the door opened, and in walked an upright young man in scarlet
+regimentals.
+
+"He had grown a brave bit, and his face was the color of wood-ashes; but
+it was the drummer, John Christian. Only his uniform was different from
+the one he used to wear, and the figures '38' shone in brass upon his
+collar.
+
+"The drummer walked past my father as if he never saw him, and stood by
+the elbow-chair and said:
+
+"'Trumpeter, trumpeter, are you one with me?'
+
+"And the trumpeter just lifted the lids of his eyes, and answered, 'How
+should I not be one with you, drummer Johnny--Johnny boy? The men are
+patient. 'Til you come, I count; you march, I mark time until the
+discharge comes.'
+
+"'The discharge has come to-night,' said the drummer, 'and the word is
+Corunna no longer;' and stepping to the chimney-place, he unhooked the
+drum and trumpet, and began to twist the brass rings of the lock,
+spelling the word aloud, so--C-O-R-U-N-A. When he had fixed the last
+letter, the padlock opened in his hand.
+
+"'Did you know, trumpeter, that when I came to Plymouth they put me into
+a line regiment.'
+
+"'The 38th is a good regiment,' answered the old Hussar, still in his
+dull voice. 'I went back with them from Sahagun to Corunna. At Corunna
+they stood in General Fraser's division, on the right. They behaved
+well.'
+
+"'But I'd fain see the Marines again,' says the drummer, handing him the
+trumpet, 'and you--you shall call once more for the Queen's Own.
+Matthew,' he says, suddenly, turning on my father--and when he turned,
+my father saw for the first time that his scarlet jacket had a round
+hole by the breast-bone, and that the blood was welling there--'Matthew,
+we shall want your boat.'
+
+"Then my father rose on his legs like a man in a dream, while they two
+slung on, the one his drum, and t'other his trumpet. He took the
+lantern, and went quaking before them down to the shore, and they
+breathed heavily behind him; and they stepped into his boat, and my
+father pushed off.
+
+"'Row you first for Dolor Point,' says the drummer. So my father rowed
+them out past the white houses of Coverack to Dolor Point, and there, at
+a word, lay on his oars. And the trumpeter, William Tallifer, put his
+trumpet to his mouth and sounded the _Revelly_. The music of it was like
+rivers running.
+
+"'They will follow,' said the drummer. 'Matthew, pull you now for the
+Manacles.'
+
+"So my father pulled for the Manacles, and came to an easy close outside
+Carn du. And the drummer took his sticks and beat a tattoo, there by the
+edge of the reef; and the music of it was like a rolling chariot.
+
+"'That will do,' says he, breaking off; 'they will follow. Pull now for
+the shore under Gunner's Meadow.'
+
+"Then my father pulled for the shore, and ran his boat in under Gunner's
+Meadow. And they stepped out, all three, and walked up to the meadow. By
+the gate the drummer halted and began his tattoo again, looking out
+toward the darkness over the sea.
+
+"And while the drum beat, and my father held his breath, there came up
+out of the sea and the darkness a troop of many men, horse and foot, and
+formed up among the graves; and others rose out of the graves and formed
+up--drowned Marines with bleached faces, and pale Hussars riding their
+horses, all lean and shadowy. There was no clatter of hoofs or
+accoutrements, my father said, but a soft sound all the while, like the
+beating of a bird's wing and a black shadow lying like a pool about the
+feet of all. The drummer stood upon a little knoll just inside the gate,
+and beside him the tall trumpeter, with hand on hip, watching them
+gather; and behind them both my father, clinging to the gate. When no
+more came the drummer stopped playing, and said, 'Call the roll.'
+
+"Then the trumpeter stepped toward the end man of the rank and called,
+'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons,' and the man in a thin voice
+answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons, how is it with you?'
+
+"The man answered, 'How should it be with me? When I was young, I
+betrayed a girl; and when I was grown, I betrayed a friend, and for
+these things I must pay. But I died as a man ought. God save the King!'
+
+"The trumpeter called to the next man, 'Trooper Henry Buckingham', and
+the next man answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Trooper Henry Buckingham, how is it with you?'
+
+"'How should it be with me? I was a drunkard, and I stole, and in Lugo,
+in a wine-shop, I knifed a man. But I died as a man should. God save the
+King!'
+
+"So the trumpeter went down the line; and when he had finished, the
+drummer took it up, hailing the dead Marines in their order. Each man
+answered to his name, and each man ended with 'God save the King!' When
+all were hailed, the drummer stepped back to his mound, and called:
+
+"'It is well. You are content, and we are content to join you. Wait yet
+a little while.'
+
+"With this he turned and ordered my father to pick up the lantern, and
+lead the way back. As my father picked it up, he heard the ranks of
+dead men cheer and call, 'God save the King!' all together, and saw them
+waver and fade back into the dark, like a breath fading off a pane.
+
+"But when they came back here to the kitchen, and my father set the
+lantern down, it seemed they'd both forgot about him. For the drummer
+turned in the lantern-light--and my father could see the blood still
+welling out of the hole in his breast--and took the trumpet-sling from
+around the other's neck, and locked drum and trumpet together again,
+choosing the letters on the lock very carefully. While he did this he
+said:
+
+"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an "n" in
+Corunna, so must I leave out an "n" in Bayonne.' And before snapping the
+padlock, he spelt out the word slowly--'B-A-Y-O-N-E.' After that, he
+used no more speech; but turned and hung the two instruments back on the
+hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm; and the pair walked out
+into the darkness, glancing neither to right nor left.
+
+"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of sigh
+behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the very
+trumpeter he had just seen walk out by the door! If my father's heart
+jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now. But after a bit,
+he went up to the man asleep in the chair, and put a hand upon him. It
+was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he touched; but though the
+flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father was
+minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it). But the day
+after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from Helston market: and
+the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news the coach brought down
+this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father. 'Why, that peace is agreed
+upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father. 'Not soon enough for our poor
+lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered. 'Bayonne!' cries my father, with
+a jump. 'Why, yes;' and the parson told him all about a great sally the
+French had made on the night of April 13th. 'Do you happen to know if
+the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said
+Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the campaign. But,
+as it happens, I _do_ know that the 38th was engaged, for 'twas they
+that held a cottage and stopped the French advance.'
+
+"Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked into
+Helston and bought a _Mercury_ off the Sherborne rider, and got the
+landlord of the Angel to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure
+enough, there among the killed was Drummer John Christian, of the 38th
+Foot.
+
+"After this there was nothing for a religious man but to make a clean
+breast. So my father went up to Parson Kendall and told the whole story.
+The parson listened, and put a question or two, and then asked:
+
+"'Have you tried to open the lock since that night?'
+
+"'I han't dared to touch it,' says my father.
+
+"'Then come along and try.' When the parson came to the cottage here, he
+took the things off the hook and tried the lock. 'Did he say
+_"Bayonne"?_ The word has seven letters.'
+
+"'Not if you spell it with one "n" as _he_ did,' says my father.
+
+"The parson spelt it out--B-A-Y-O-N-E. 'Whew!' says he, for the lock had
+fallen open in his hand.
+
+"He stood considering it a moment, and then he said, 'I tell you what. I
+shouldn't blab this all round the parish, if I was you. You won't get no
+credit for truth-telling, and a miracle's wasted on a set of fools. But
+if you like, I'll shut down the lock again upon a holy word that no one
+but me shall know, and neither drummer nor trumpeter, dead nor alive,
+shall frighten the secret out of me.'
+
+"'I wish to gracious you would, parson,' said my father.
+
+"The parson chose the holy word there and then, and shut the lock back
+upon it, and hung the drum and trumpet back in their place. He is gone
+long since, taking the word with him. And till the lock is broken by
+force, nobody will ever separate those twain."
+
+[Illustration: HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 19: From _The Wandering Heath,_ by Arthur Quiller-Couch.
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN[20]
+
+
+THE moon was near her setting as a tall, broad-shouldered man called
+Jan Brewer was walking home to Constantine Bay to his cottage on the
+edge of the cliff.
+
+He was singing an old song to himself as he went along, and he sang till
+he drew near the ruins of Constantine Church, standing on a sandy common
+near the bay. As he drew near the remains of this ancient church, which
+were clearly seen in the moonshine, he thought he heard some one
+laughing, but he was not quite sure, for the sea was roaring on the
+beach below the common, and the waves were making a loud noise as they
+dashed up the great headland of Trevose.
+
+"I was mistaken; 'twas nobody laughing," said Jan to himself, and he
+walked on again, singing as before; and he sang till he came near a
+gate, which opened into a field leading to his cottage, but when he got
+there he could not see the gate or the gateway.
+
+"I was so taken up with singing the old song, that I must have missed my
+way," he said again to himself. "I'll go back to the head of the common
+and start afresh," which he did; and when he got to the place where his
+gate ought to have been, he could not find it to save his life.
+
+"I must be clean _mazed_,"[21] he cried. "I have never got out of my
+reckoning before, nor missed finding my way to our gate, even when the
+night has been as dark as pitch. It isn't at all dark to-night; I can
+see Trevose Head--and yet I can't see my own little gate! But I en't
+a-going to be done; I'll go round and round this common till I _do_ find
+my gate."
+
+And round and round the common he went, but find his gate he could not.
+
+Every time he passed the ruins of the church a laugh came up from the
+pool below the ruins, and once he thought he saw a dancing light on the
+edge of the pool, where a lot of reeds and rushes were growing.
+
+"The Little Man in the Lantern is about to-night,"[22] he said to
+himself, as he glanced at the pool. "But I never knew he was given to
+laughing before."
+
+Once more he went round the common, and when he had passed the ruins he
+heard giggling and laughing, this time quite close to him; and looking
+down on the grass, he saw to his astonishment hundreds of Little Men and
+Little Women with tiny lights in their hands, which they were
+_flinking_[23] about as they laughed and giggled.
+
+The Little Men wore stocking-caps, the color of ripe briar berries, and
+grass-green coats, and the Little Women had on old grandmother cloaks of
+the same vivid hue as the Wee Men's coats, and they also wore little
+scarlet hoods.
+
+"I believe the great big chap sees us," said one of the Little Men,
+catching sight of Jan's astonished face. "He must be Piskey-eyed, and we
+did not know it."
+
+"Is he really?" cried one of the _Dinky_[24] Women. "'Tis a pity, but
+we'll have our game over him just the same."
+
+"That we will," cried all the Little Men and Little Women in one voice;
+and, forming a ring round the great tall fellow, they began to dance
+round him, laughing, giggling and flashing up their lights as they
+danced.
+
+They went round him so fast that poor Jan was quite bewildered, and
+whichever way he looked there were these Little Men and Little Women
+giggling up into his bearded face. And when he tried to break through
+their ring they went before him and behind him, making a game over him.
+
+He was at their mercy and they knew it; and when they saw the great
+fellow's misery, they only laughed and giggled the more.
+
+"We've got him!" they cried to each other, and they said it with such
+gusto and with such a comical expression on their tiny brown faces, that
+Jan, bewildered as he was, and tired with going round the common so many
+times, could not help laughing, they looked so very funny, particularly
+when the Little Women winked up at him from under their little scarlet
+hoods.
+
+The Piskeys--for they were Piskeys[25]--hurried him down the common,
+dancing round him all the time; and when he got there he felt so
+mizzy-mazey with those tiny whirling figures going round and round him
+like a whirligig, that he did not know whether he was standing on his
+head or his heels. He was also in a bath of perspiration--"sweating
+leaking," he said--and, putting his hand in his pocket to take out a
+handkerchief to mop his face, he remembered having been told that, if
+he ever got Piskey-laden, he must turn his coat pockets inside out,
+then he would be free at once from his Piskey tormentors. And
+in a minute or less his coat-pockets were hanging out, and all the
+Little Men and the Little Women had vanished, and there, right in front
+of him, he saw his own gate! He lost no time in opening it, and in a
+very short time was in his thatched cottage on the cliff.
+
+[Illustration: MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 20: From _Legends and Tales of North Cornwall_, by Enys
+Tregarthen. Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.]
+
+[Footnote 21: Mad.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Jack-o'-Lantern. Will-o'-the-Wisp. The Piskey Puck. Some
+say he walks about carrying a lantern, others, that he goes over the
+moors _in_ his lantern.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Waving.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Little.]
+
+[Footnote 25: In Cornwall, these "little Ancient People" are called
+_Piskeys_. In England and Ireland, _Pixies_.]
+
+
+
+
+MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY[26]
+
+A DROLL
+
+
+'TIS the nicest miss in the world that I was born grandson of my own
+father's father, and not of another man altogether.
+
+Hendry Watty was the name of my grandfather that might have been; and he
+always maintained that to all intents and purposes he _was_ my
+grandfather, and made me call him so--'twas such a narrow shave. I don't
+mind telling you about it. 'Tis a curious tale, too.
+
+
+My grandfather, Hendry Watty, bet four gallons of eggy-hot that he would
+row out to the Shivering Grounds, all in the dead waste of the night,
+and haul a trammel there. To find the Shivering Grounds by night, you
+get the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna and pull out till you open
+the light on St. Anthony's Point; but everybody gives the place a wide
+berth because Archelaus Rowett's lugger foundered there one time, with
+six hands on board; and they say that at night you can hear the drowned
+men hailing their names. But my grandfather was the boldest man in Port
+Loe, and said he didn't care. So one Christmas Eve by daylight he and
+his mates went out and tilled the trammel; and then they came back and
+spent the forepart of the evening over the eggy-hot, down to Oliver's
+tiddly-wink,[27] to keep my grandfather's spirits up and also to show
+that the bet was made in earnest.
+
+'Twas past eleven o'clock when they left Oliver's and walked down to the
+cove to see my grandfather off. He has told me since that he didn't feel
+afraid at all, but very friendly in mind, especially toward William John
+Dunn, who was walking on his right hand. This puzzled him at the first,
+for as a rule he didn't think much of William John Dunn. But now he
+shook hands with him several times, and just as he was stepping into the
+boat he says, "You'll take care of Mary Polly while I'm away." Mary
+Polly Polsue was my grandfather's sweetheart at that time. But why my
+grandfather should have spoken as if he was bound on a long voyage he
+never could tell; he used to set it down to fate.
+
+"I will," said William John Dunn; and then they gave a cheer and pushed
+my grandfather off, and he lit his pipe and away he rowed all into the
+dead waste of the night. He rowed and rowed, all in the dead waste the
+night; and he got the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna windows; and
+still he was rowing, when to his great surprise he heard a voice
+calling:
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"_
+
+I told you my grandfather was the boldest man in Port Loe. But he
+dropped his two oars now, and made the five signs of Penitence. For who
+could it be calling him out here in the dead waste and middle of the
+night?
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line_."
+
+My grandfather kept his fishing-lines in a little skivet under the
+stern-sheets. But not a trace of bait had he on board. If he had, he was
+too much a-tremble to bait a hook.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line, or I'll know why_."
+
+My poor grandfather had by this picked up his oars again, and was rowing
+like mad to get quit of the neighborhood, when something or somebody
+gave three knocks--_thump, thump, thump!_--on the bottom of the boat,
+just as you would knock on a door.
+
+The third thump fetched Hendry Watty upright on his legs. He had no
+more heart for disobeying, but having bitten his pipe-stem in half by
+this time--his teeth chattered so--he baited his hook with the broken
+bit and flung it overboard, letting the line run out in the stern-notch.
+Not half-way had it run before he felt a long pull on it, like the
+sucking of a dog-fish.
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! pull me in."_
+
+Hendry Watty pulled in hand over fist, and in came the lead sinker over
+the notch, and still the line was heavy; he pulled and he pulled, and
+next, all out of the dead waste of the night, came two white hands, like
+a washerwoman's, and gripped hold of the stern-board; and on the left of
+these two hands, was a silver ring, sunk very deep in the flesh. If this
+was bad, worse was the face that followed--and if this was bad for
+anybody, it was worse for my grandfather who had known Archelaus Rowett
+before he was drowned out on the Shivering Grounds, six years before.
+
+Archelaus Rowett climbed in over the stern, pulled the hook with the bit
+of pipe-stem out of his cheek, sat down in the stern-sheets, shook a
+small crayfish out of his whiskers, and said very coolly: "If you should
+come across my wife--"
+
+That was all that my grandfather stayed to hear. At the sound of
+Archelaus's voice he fetched a yell, jumped clean over the side of the
+boat and swam for dear life. He swam and swam, till by the bit of the
+moon he saw the Gull Rock close ahead. There were lashin's of rats on
+the Gull Rock, as he knew; but he was a good deal surprised at the way
+they were behaving, for they sat in a row at the water's edge and
+fished, with their tails let down into the sea for fishing-lines; and
+their eyes were like garnets burning as they looked at my grandfather
+over their shoulders.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! you can't land here--you're disturbing the
+pollack."
+
+"Bejimbers! I wouldn' do that for the world," says my grandfather; so
+off he pushes and swims for the mainland. This was a long job, and it
+was as much as he could do to reach Kibberick beach, where he fell on
+his face and hands among the stones, and there lay, taking breath.
+
+The breath was hardly back in his body before he heard footsteps, and
+along the beach came a woman, and passed close by to him. He lay very
+quiet, and as she came near he saw 'twas Sarah Rowett, that used to be
+Archelaus's wife, but had married another man since. She was knitting as
+she went by, and did not seem to notice my grandfather; but he heard her
+say to herself, "The hour is come, and the man is come."
+
+He had scarcely begun to wonder over this when he spied a ball of
+worsted yarn beside him that Sarah had dropped. 'Twas the ball she was
+knitting from, and a line of worsted stretched after her along the
+beach. Hendry Watty picked up the ball and followed the thread on
+tiptoe. In less than a minute he came near enough to watch what she was
+doing; and what she did was worth watching. First she gathered wreckwood
+and straw, and struck flint over touchwood and teened a fire. Then she
+unraveled her knitting; twisted her end of the yarn between finger and
+thumb--like a cobbler twisting a wax-end--and cast the end up towards
+the sky. It made Hendry Watty stare when the thread, instead of falling
+back to the ground, remained hanging, just as if 'twas fastened to
+something up above; but it made him stare still more when Sarah Rowett
+began to climb up it, and away up till nothing could be seen of her but
+her ankles dangling out of the dead waste and middle of the night.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY!"
+
+It wasn't Sarah calling, but a voice far away out to sea.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _send
+    me a line!"_
+
+My grandfather was wondering what to do, when Sarah speaks down very
+sharp to him, out of the dark:
+
+"Hendry Watty! where's the rocket apparatus? Can't you hear the poor
+fellow asking for a line?"
+
+"I do," says my grandfather, who was beginning to lose his temper; "and
+do you think, ma'am, that I carry a Boxer's rocket in my trousers
+pocket?"
+
+"I think you have a ball of worsted in your hand," says she. "Throw it
+as far as you can."
+
+So my grandfather threw the ball out into the dead waste and middle of
+the night. He didn't see where it pitched, or how far it went.
+
+"Right it is," says the woman aloft. "'Tis easy seen you're a hurler.
+But what shall us do for a cradle?[28] Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"
+
+"Ma'am to _you,"_ said my grandfather.
+
+"If you have the common feelings of a gentleman, I'll ask you to turn
+your back; I'm going to take off my stocking."
+
+So my grandfather stared the other way very politely; and when he was
+told he might look again, he saw she had tied the stocking to the line
+and was running it out like a cradle into the dead waste of the night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+Before he could answer, plump! a man's leg came tumbling past his ear
+and scattered the ashes right and left.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas a great white arm and hand, with a silver ring sunk
+tight in the flesh of the little finger.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! warm them limbs!"
+
+My grandfather picked them up and was warming them before the fire, when
+down came tumbling a great round head and bounced twice and lay in the
+firelight, staring up at him. And whose head was it but Archelaus
+Rowett's, that he'd run away from once already that night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas another leg, and my grandfather was just about to lay
+hands on it, when the woman called down:
+
+"Hendry Watty! catch it quick! It's my own leg I've thrown down by
+mistake."
+
+The leg struck the ground and bounced high, and Hendry Watty made a leap
+after it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And I reckon it's asleep he must have been; for what he caught was not
+Mrs. Rowett's leg, but the jib-boom of a deep-laden brigantine that was
+running him down in the dark. And as he sprang for it, his boat was
+crushed by the brigantine's fore-foot and went down under his very
+boot-soles. At the same time he let out a yell, and two or three of the
+crew ran forward and hoisted him up to the bowsprit and in on deck, safe
+and sound.
+
+But the brigantine happened to be outward bound for the River Plate; so
+that, with one thing and another, 'twas eleven good months before my
+grandfather landed again at Port Loe. And who should be the first man he
+sees standing above the cove but William John Dunn.
+
+"I'm very glad to see you," says William John Dunn.
+
+"Thank you kindly," answers my grandfather; "and how's Mary Polly?"
+
+"Why, as for that," he says, "she took so much looking after, that I
+couldn't feel I was properly keeping her under my eye till I married
+her, last June month."
+
+"You was always one to over-do things," said my grandfather.
+
+"But if you was alive an' well, why didn' you drop us a line?"
+
+Now when it came to talk about "dropping a line," my grandfather fairly
+lost his temper. So he struck William John Dunn on the nose--a thing he
+had never been known to do before--and William John Dunn hit him back,
+and the neighbors had to separate them. And next day, William John Dunn
+took out a summons against him. Well, the case was tried before the
+magistrates: and my grandfather told his story from the beginning, quite
+straightforward, just as I've told it to you. And the magistrates
+decided that, taking one thing and another, he'd had a great deal of
+provocation, and fined him five shillings. And there the matter ended.
+But now you know the reason why I'm William John Dunn's grandson instead
+of Hendry Watty's.
+
+[Illustration: CHILDE ROWLAND]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 26: From _The Wandering Heath_, by Arthur Quiller-Couch;
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Beer-house.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Breeches buoy.]
+
+
+
+
+CHILDE ROWLAND[29]
+
+    Childe Rowland and his brothers twain
+      Were playing at the ball,
+    And there was their sister Burd Ellen
+      In the midst, among them all.
+
+    Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot
+      And caught it with his knee;
+    At last as he plunged among them all
+      O'er the church he made it flee.
+
+    Burd Ellen round about the aisle
+      To seek the ball is gone,
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      And she came not back again.
+
+    They sought her east, they sought her west,
+      They sought her up and down,
+    And woe were the hearts of those brethren,
+      For she was not to be found.
+
+SO at last her eldest brother went to the Warlock Merlin and told him
+all the case, and asked him if he knew where Burd Ellen was. "The fair
+Burd Ellen," said the Warlock Merlin, "must have been carried off by the
+fairies, because she went round the church 'widershins'--the opposite
+way to the sun. She is now in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland; it
+would take the boldest knight in Christendom to bring her back."
+
+"If it is possible to bring her back," said her brother, "I'll do it, or
+perish in the attempt."
+
+"Possible it is," said the Warlock Merlin, "but woe to the man or
+mother's son that attempts it, if he is not well taught beforehand what
+he is to do."
+
+The eldest brother of Burd Ellen was not to be put off, by any fear of
+danger, from attempting to get her back, so he begged the Warlock Merlin
+to tell him what he should do, and what he should not do, in going to
+seek his sister. And after he had been taught, and had repeated his
+lesson, he set out for Elfland.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With doubt and muckle pain,
+    But woe were the hearts of his brethren,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+Then the second brother got tired and tired of waiting, and he went to
+the Warlock Merlin and asked him the same as his brother. So he set out
+to find Burd Ellen.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With muckle doubt and pain,
+    And woe were his mother's and brother's heart,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+And when they had waited and waited a good long time, Childe Rowland,
+the youngest of Burd Ellen's brothers, wished to go, and went to his
+mother, the good queen, to ask her to let him go. But she would not at
+first, for he was the last and dearest of her children, and if he was
+lost, all would be lost. But he begged, and he begged, till at last the
+good queen let him go, and gave him his father's good brand that never
+struck in vain, and as she girt it round his waist, she said the spell
+that would give it victory.
+
+So Childe Rowland said good-by to the good queen, his mother, and went
+to the cave of the Warlock Merlin. "Once more, and but once more," he
+said to the Warlock, "tell how man or mother's son may rescue Burd Ellen
+and her brothers twain."
+
+"Well, my son," said the Warlock Merlin, "there are but two things,
+simple they may seem, but hard they are to do. One thing to do, and one
+thing not to do. And the thing to do is this: after you have entered the
+land of Fairy, whoever speaks to you, till you meet the Burd Ellen, you
+must out with your father's brand and off with their head. And what
+you've not to do is this: bite no bit, and drink no drop, however hungry
+or thirsty you be; drink a drop or bite a bit, while in Elfland you be
+and never will you see Middle Earth again."
+
+So Childe Rowland said the two things over and over again, till he knew
+them by heart, and he thanked the Warlock Merlin and went on his way.
+And he went along, and along, and along, and still further along, till
+he came to the horse-herd of the King of Elfland feeding his horses.
+These he knew by their fiery eyes, and knew that he was at last in the
+land of Fairy. "Canst thou tell me," said Childe Rowland to the
+horse-herd, "where the King of Elfland's Dark Tower is?" "I cannot tell
+thee," said the horse-herd, "but go on a little further and thou wilt
+come to the cow-herd, and he, maybe, can tell thee."
+
+Then, without a word more, Childe Rowland drew the good brand that never
+struck in vain, and off went the horse-herd's head, and Childe Rowland
+went on further, till he came to the cow-herd, and asked him the same
+question. "I can't tell thee," said he, "but go on a little further, and
+thou wilt come to the hen-wife, and she is sure to know." Then Childe
+Rowland out with his good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went
+the cow-herd's head. And he went on a little further, till he came to an
+old woman in a gray cloak, and he asked her if she knew where the Dark
+Tower of the King of Elfland was. "Go on a little further," said the
+hen-wife, "till you come to a round green hill, surrounded with
+terrace-rings, from the bottom to the top; go round it three times,
+'widershins,' and each time say:
+
+    "'Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in,'
+
+and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." And Childe
+Rowland was just going on, when he remembered what he had to do; so he
+out with the good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went the
+hen-wife's head.
+
+Then he went on, and on, and on, till he came to the round green hill
+with the terrace-rings from top to bottom, and he went round it three
+times, "widershins," saying each time:
+
+    "Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in."
+
+And the third time the door did open, and he went in, and it closed with
+a click, and Childe Rowland was left in the dark.
+
+It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were
+neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the
+twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof. There were rough
+arches made of a transparent rock, incrusted with sheepsilver and rock
+spar, and other bright stones. But though it was rock, the air was quite
+warm, as it always is in Elfland. So he went through this passage till
+at last he came to two wide and high folding-doors which stood ajar. And
+when he opened them, there he saw a most wonderful and glorious sight. A
+large and spacious hall, so large that it seemed to be as long, and as
+broad, as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by fine pillars,
+so large and lofty, that the pillars of a cathedral were as nothing to
+them. They were all of gold and silver, with fretted work, and between
+them and around them wreaths of flowers, composed of what do you think?
+Why, of diamonds and emeralds, and all manner of precious stones. And
+the very key-stones of the arches had for ornaments clusters of diamonds
+and rubies, and pearls, and other precious stones. And all these arches
+met in the middle of the roof, and just there, hung by a gold chain, an
+immense lamp made out of one big pearl hollowed out and quite
+transparent. And in the middle of this was a big, huge carbuncle, which
+kept spinning round and round, and this was what gave light by its rays
+to the whole hall, which seemed as if the setting sun was shining on it.
+
+The hall was furnished in a manner equally grand, and at one end of it
+was a glorious couch of velvet, silk and gold, and there sat Burd Ellen,
+combing her golden hair with a silver comb. And when she saw Childe
+Rowland she stood up and said:
+
+    "God pity ye, poor luckless fool,
+      What have ye here to do?
+
+    "Hear ye this, my youngest brother,
+      Why didn't ye bide at home?
+    Had you a hundred thousand lives
+      Ye couldn't spare any a one.
+
+    "But sit ye down; but woe, O, woe,
+      That ever ye were born,
+    For come the King of Elfland in,
+      Your fortune is forlorn."
+
+Then they sat down together, and Childe Rowland told her all that he had
+done, and she told him how their two brothers had reached the Dark
+Tower, but had been enchanted by the King of Elfland, and lay there
+entombed as if dead. And then after they had talked a little longer
+Childe Rowland began to feel hungry from his long travels, and told his
+sister Burd Ellen how hungry he was and asked for some food, forgetting
+all about the Warlock Merlin's warning.
+
+Burd Ellen looked at Childe Rowland sadly, and shook her head, but she
+was under a spell, and could not warn him. So she rose up, and went out,
+and soon brought back a golden basin full of bread and milk. Childe
+Rowland was just going to raise it to his lips, when he looked at his
+sister and remembered why he had come all that way. So he dashed the
+bowl to the ground, and said: "Not a sup will I swallow, nor a bit will
+I bite, till Burd Ellen is set free."
+
+Just at that moment they heard the noise of some one approaching, and a
+loud voice was heard saying:
+
+    "Fee, fi, fo, fum,
+    I smell the blood of a Christian man,
+    Be he dead, be he living, with my brand,
+    I'll dash his brains from his brain-pan."
+
+And then the folding-doors of the hall were burst open, and the King of
+Elfland rushed in.
+
+"Strike, then, Bogle, if thou darest," shouted out Childe Rowland, and
+rushed to meet him with his good brand that never yet did fail. They
+fought, and they fought, and they fought, till Childe Rowland beat the
+King of Elfland down on to his knees, and caused him to yield and beg
+for mercy. "I grant thee mercy," said Childe Rowland; "release my sister
+from thy spells and raise my brothers to life, and let us all go free,
+and thou shalt be spared." "I agree," said the Elfin King, and rising up
+he went to a chest from which he took a phial filled with a blood-red
+liquor. With this he anointed the ears, eyelids, nostrils, lips, and
+finger-tips of the two brothers, and they sprang at once into life, and
+declared that their souls had been away, but had now returned. The Elfin
+King then said some words to Burd Ellen, and she was disenchanted, and
+they all four passed out of the hall, through the long passage, and
+turned their back on the Dark Tower, never to return again. So they
+reached home, and the good queen their mother and Burd Ellen never went
+round a church "widershins"[30] again.
+
+[Illustration: TAM O' SHANTER]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 29: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons.]
+
+[Footnote 30: To go from _left_ to right, instead of following the Sun's
+course from _right_ to left.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[31]
+
+
+IT was market-day in the town of Ayr in Scotland. The farmers had come
+into town from all the country round about, to sell or exchange their
+farm produce, and buy what they needed to take home.
+
+Amongst these farmers was a man by the name of Tam o' Shanter; a good
+natured, happy-go-lucky sort of person, but, I am sorry to say, somewhat
+of a drunkard.
+
+Now Tam's wife, whose name was Kate, was a grievous scold; always
+nagging and faultfinding, and I fear making it far easier for Tam to do
+wrong than if she had treated him more kindly. However that may be, Tam
+was happier away from home; and this day had escaped his wife's scolding
+tongue, mounted his good gray mare Meg, and galloped off as fast as he
+could go to Market.
+
+Tam, who was bent upon having a spree, found his good friend, the
+shoemaker Johnny, and off they went to their favorite ale house; where
+they stayed telling stories and singing and drinking, till late at
+night.
+
+At last the time came to go home and Tam who had forgotten the long
+miles between him and the farm set forth, but a terrible storm had
+risen; the wind blew, the rain fell in torrents and the thunder roared
+long and loud.
+
+It was a fearful night, black as pitch except for the blinding flashes
+of lightning; but Tam was well mounted on his good gray mare Maggie, and
+splashed along through the wind and mire, holding on to his good blue
+bonnet, and singing aloud an old Scotch sonnet; while looking about him
+with prudent care lest the bogies catch him unawares.
+
+At last he drew near to the old ruined church of Alloway. For many, many
+years this old church had been roofless, but the walls were standing and
+it still retained the bell.
+
+For many years it was said that the ghosts and witches nightly held
+their revels there, and sometimes rang the old bell. As Tam was crossing
+the ford of the stream called the Doon, which flowed nearby, he looked
+up at the old church on the hillside above him, and behold! it was all
+ablaze with lights, and sounds of mirth and dancing reached his ears.
+
+Now Tam had been made fearless by old John Barleycorn, and he made good
+Maggie take him close to the church so that he could look inside, and
+there he saw the weirdest sight--
+
+Witches and ghosts in a mad dance, and the music was furnished by the
+Devil himself in the shape of a beast, who played upon the bagpipes, and
+made them scream so loud that the very rafters rang with the sound.
+
+It was an awful sight; and as Tam looked in, amazed and curious, the fun
+and mirth grew fast and furious.
+
+The Piper loud and louder blew, and the dancers quick and quicker flew.
+
+One of the witches resembled a handsome girl that Tam had known called
+Nannie; Tam sat as one bewitched watching her as she danced, and at last
+losing his wits altogether, called out: "Weel done, Cutty-Sark!"--and in
+an instant all was dark!
+
+He had scarcely time to turn Maggie round, when all the legion of
+witches and spirits were about him like a swarm of angry bees. As a
+crowd runs, when the cry "Catch the thief" is heard, so runs Maggie; and
+the witches follow with many an awful screech and halloo! Hurry, Meg!
+Do thy utmost! Win the keystone of the bridge, for a running stream they
+_dare_ not cross! _Then_ you can toss your tail at them! But before good
+Meg could reach the keystone of the bridge she had no tail to toss. For
+Nannie far before the rest, hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+and flew at Tam with fury. But she little knew good Maggie's
+mettle. With one spring, she brought off her master safe, but left
+behind her own gray tail!
+
+The witch had caught it and left poor Maggie with only a stump.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 31: Prose Version, by Anna Cogswell Tyler.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[32]
+
+    "Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."--Gawin Douglas.
+
+    When chapman billies leave the street,
+    And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
+    As market-days are wearing late,
+    An' folk begin to tak' the gate;
+    While we sit bousing at the nappy,
+    An' gettin' fou and unco happy,
+    We think na on the lang Scots miles,
+    The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
+    That lie between us and our hame,
+    Where sits our sulky sullen dame,
+    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
+    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
+
+    This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
+    As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
+    (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
+    For honest men and bonny lasses.)
+    O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
+    As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advise!
+    She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
+    A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
+    That frae November till October,
+    Ae market-day thou wasna sober;
+    That ilka melder, wi' the miller,
+    Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
+    That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,
+    The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;
+    That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
+    Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday.
+    She prophesy'd, that late or soon,
+    Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;
+    Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
+    By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
+
+    Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
+    To think how mony counsels sweet,
+    How mony lengthen'd sage advices,
+    The husband frae the wife despises!
+    But to our tale:--Ae market night,
+    Tam had got planted unco right;
+    Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,
+    Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;
+    And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
+    His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
+    Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
+    They had been fou' for weeks thegither!
+    The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;
+    And ay the ale was growing better:
+    The storm without might rair and rustle-- Tam
+    did na mind the storm a whistle.
+
+    Care, made to see a man sae happy,
+    E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy!
+    As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
+    The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
+    Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
+    O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
+
+    But pleasures are like poppies spread,
+    You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+    Or like the snow falls in the river,
+    A moment white--then melts for ever;
+    Or like the borealis race,
+    That flit ere you can point their place;
+    Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+    Evanishing amid the storm.
+    Nae man can tether time or tide;
+    The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
+    That hour, o' night's black arch the kay-stane,
+    That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
+    And sic a night he taks the road in
+    As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
+    The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
+    The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;
+    The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
+    Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
+    That night, a child might understand,
+    The De'il had business on his hand.
+
+    Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
+    A better never lifted leg,
+    Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
+    Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
+    Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;
+    Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;
+    Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,
+    Les bogles catch him unawares;
+    Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
+    Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.
+
+    By this time he was cross the foord,
+    Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
+    And past the birks and meikle stane,
+    Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
+    And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
+    Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
+    And near the thorn, aboon the well,
+    Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.
+    Before him Doon pours all his floods;
+    The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;
+    The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
+    Near and more near the thunders roll;
+    When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
+    Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;
+    Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;
+    And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
+
+    Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!
+    What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
+    Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
+    Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil!
+    The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noodle,
+    Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle.
+    But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
+    'Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
+    She ventur'd forward on the light;
+    And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
+    Warlocks and witches in a dance;
+    Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
+    But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
+    Put life and mettle in their heels:
+    A winnock-bunker in the east,
+    There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
+    A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
+    To gie them music was his charge;
+    He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
+    Till roof and rafters a' did dirl-- As
+    Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
+    The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:
+    The piper loud and louder blew;
+    The dancers quick and quicker flew;
+    They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
+    'Til ilka carlin swat and reekit,
+    And coost her duddies to the wark,
+    And linket at it in her sark!
+
+    But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
+    There was a winsome wench and walie,
+    That night enlisted in the core,
+    (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;
+    For mony a beast to dead she shot,
+    And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,
+    And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
+    And kept the country-side in fear.)
+    Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
+    That, while a lassie, she had worn,
+    In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
+    It was her best, and she was vauntie.
+    Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie,
+    That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
+    Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
+    Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!
+
+    But here my muse her wing maun cour;
+    Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;
+    To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
+    (A soup'e jade she was and strang),
+    And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,
+    And thought his very een enrich'd;
+    Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
+    And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:
+    'Til first ae caper, syne anither,
+    Tam tint his reason a' thegither,
+    And roars out, "Well done, Cutty-sark!"
+    And in an instant all was dark:
+    And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
+    When out the hellish legion sallied.
+
+    As bees bizz out wi' angry gyke,
+    When plundering herds assail their byke;
+    As open pussie's mortal foes,
+    When, pop! she starts before their nose;
+    As eager runs the market-crowd,
+    When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
+    So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
+    Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.
+
+    Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!
+    In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!
+    In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
+    Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
+    Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
+    And win the key-stane of the brig;
+    There at them thou thy tail may toss,
+    A running stream they darena cross!
+    But ere the key-stane she could make,
+    The fient a tail she had to shake!
+    For Nannie, far before the rest,
+    Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+    And flew at Tammie wi' furious ettle;
+    But little wist she Maggie's mettle-- Ae
+    spring brought off her master hale,
+    But left behind her ain gray tail:
+    The carlin claught her by the rump,
+    And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
+
+    Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
+    Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
+    Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
+    Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
+    Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear-- Remember
+    Tam o' Shanter's mare.
+
+    ROBERT BURNS.
+
+[Illustration: THE BOGGART]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 32: It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits,
+have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the
+next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the
+benighted traveler, that when he falls in with _bogles,_ whatever danger
+there may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning
+back.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BOGGART[33]
+
+
+IN an old farm-house in Yorkshire, where lived an honest farmer named
+George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He caused a good
+deal of trouble, and he kept tormenting the children, day and night, in
+various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away,
+or their porringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible hand;
+for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains
+of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight
+would press on and nearly suffocate them. Their mother had often, on
+hearing their cries, to fly to their aid.
+
+There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the
+kitchen-stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the
+deal-boards of which it was made, there remained a round hole. Into
+this, one day, the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe-horn with which
+he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and
+struck the boy on the head. Of course it was the Boggart did this, and
+it soon became their sport, which they called _larking with the
+Boggart,_ to put the shoe-horn into the hole and have it shot back at
+them. But the gamesome Boggart at length proved such a torment that the
+farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all
+to himself. This settled, the flitting day came, and the farmer and his
+family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named
+John Marshall came up.
+
+"Well, Georgey," said he, "and so you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?"
+
+"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced to it; for that bad Boggart torments
+us so, we can neither rest night nor day for't. It seems to have such a
+malice against t'poor bairns, it almost kills my poor dame here at
+thoughts on't, and so, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike."
+
+He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn
+cried out. _"Aye, aye, Georgey, we're flittin ye see!"_
+
+"Ods, alive!" cried the farmer, "if I'd known thou would flit too, I'd
+not have stirred a peg!"
+
+And with that, he turned about to his wife, and told her they might as
+well stay in the old house, as be bothered by the Boggart in a new one.
+So stay they did.
+
+THE END
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 33: From _Fairy-Gold_, a book of old English Fairy Tales.
+Chosen by Ernest Rhys.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys
+and Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and
+Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+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: Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls
+
+Author: Anna Cogswell Tyler
+
+Illustrator: Maud Petersham
+             Miska Petersham
+
+Release Date: December 11, 2010 [EBook #34618]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FOUR UNUSUAL STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreaders at fadedpage.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    TWENTY-FOUR
+    UNUSUAL STORIES
+
+    FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
+
+
+    ARRANGED AND RETOLD
+
+    BY
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER
+
+    WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+
+    MAUD AND MISKA PETERSHAM
+
+    NEW YORK
+
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
+
+    1921
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
+    HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+    PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.
+
+    THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
+
+    RAHWAY. N. J.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    TO THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO
+    HAVE ENJOYED THESE TALES
+
+    AND HAVE BEEN THE INSPIRATION
+    OF THE STORY-TELLER,
+    THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+It has been suggested that the boys and girls who have so often listened
+to these stories in the clubs and story-hours of the New York Public
+Library, might like to have a few of their favorites in one book; that
+other boys and girls might be interested in reading them; and that the
+story-teller, in search of stories for special occasions, might find
+this little volume useful.
+
+    ANNA COGSWELL TYLER.
+    1920
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+    THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE                                         1
+
+    _Jean de Bosschere_
+
+    "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO
+        BE RIGHT!"                                                     7
+
+    _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+    WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME                                            17
+
+    _Howard Pyle_
+
+    THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES                     31
+
+    _Rev. Jay T. Stocking_
+
+    KATCHA AND THE DEVIL                                              45
+
+    _Parker Fillmore_
+
+    THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN                                           59
+
+    _Cornelia Meigs_
+
+    WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME                                81
+
+    _Aldis Dunbar_
+
+    THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE                                  95
+
+    _Aunt Naomi_
+
+    THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END                                      107
+
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    WINGS                                                            115
+
+    _Fedor Sologub_
+
+            CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+    THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO                                             123
+
+    _Frances Browne_
+
+    THE EMPEROR'S VISION                                             155
+
+    _Selma Lagerlof_
+
+    THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP                                    167
+
+    _Ruth Sawyer Durand_
+
+    GREEK LEGENDS
+
+    THE CURSE OF ECHO                                                183
+    _Elsie Finnimore Buckley_
+
+    HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN                                   195
+    _Andrew Lang_
+
+    HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE
+    WATER OF LIFE                                                    213
+    _Julia Dragoumis_
+
+
+    AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+    THE FIRST CORN                                                   223
+    _George Bird Grinnell_
+
+    WAUKEWA'S EAGLE                                                  233
+    _James Buckham_
+
+
+    HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+    THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF                                        245
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN                                  277
+    _Enys Tregarthen_
+
+    MY GRANDFATHER HENDRY WATTY                                      285
+    _Arthur Quiller-Couch_
+
+    CHILDE ROWLAND                                                   297
+    _Joseph Jacobs_
+
+    TAM O' SHANTER                                                   309
+    _Robert Burns_
+    (Prose Version by Anna Cogswell Tyler)
+
+    THE BOGGART                                                      325
+    _Ernest Rhys_
+
+[Illustration: THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE]
+
+
+
+
+THE CONVENT FREE FROM CARE[1]
+
+
+ONCE when the Emperor Charles V was traveling in the country, he saw a
+convent, and in passing by a little door he read this strange
+inscription:
+
+"Here you live without a care."
+
+The Emperor was very surprised and could scarcely believe his eyes.
+
+"It seems to me an impossibility," he thought; "does some one really
+exist on earth who is free from care? As Emperor I am overwhelmed with
+troubles, while here in this convent, which is a little kingdom in
+itself, one would have nothing to worry about. I cannot believe it."
+
+Immediately on setting foot in the village inn, the Emperor sent the
+hostess to fetch the Abbot of this singular convent.
+
+You can imagine what a state of mind the latter was in when he heard he
+was summoned to the Emperor's presence.
+
+"What have I done to displease him?" he asked himself. On the way he
+examined his conscience over and over again, and he could think of no
+fault of which he was guilty. "I am in troubled waters; I must steer my
+way through," he said.
+
+When he was in the Emperor's presence, the latter expressed his
+astonishment of what he had read.
+
+The Abbot now knew why he had been summoned, and smiled. "Sir," said he,
+"does that astonish you? However, it is very simple; we eat, we drink,
+we sleep, and worry over nothing."
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot, that state of things must come to an end," said
+the Emperor, "and in order that you may have your share of trouble, I
+command you to bring me to-morrow the answers to the three following
+questions:
+
+"First, What is the depth of the sea?
+
+"Secondly, How many cows' tails would it take to measure the distance
+between the earth and the sun?
+
+"Thirdly, What am I thinking about?
+
+"Try to please me or I shall exact a penalty from you."
+
+On hearing these words, the Abbot returned to his convent with a heavy
+heart. From that moment he knew no peace. He cudgeled his brains as to
+what answer he could make to the Emperor.
+
+When the little bell of the abbey rang, summoning the monks to prayer in
+the chapel, the Abbot continued to pace his garden. He was so deep in
+thought that he was quite oblivious of what was taking place around him.
+Even if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he would not have noticed
+it.
+
+"What a horrible thing," he thought. "Is it possible that such a
+misfortune has overtaken me? I cannot possibly answer. Who can save the
+situation? Perhaps our shepherd could; he has a very lively imagination;
+but talk of the devil--"
+
+At that identical moment the shepherd appeared, leading his flock. He
+was very surprised to see the Abbot, who was always without a care,
+mediating in solitude.
+
+What could have happened?
+
+Without more ado he went to him, and asked him what was troubling him so
+deeply.
+
+"Yes, I deserve to be pitied," said the Abbot, and he told him what had
+happened.
+
+"Why are you tormenting yourself over a little thing like that?" the
+shepherd laughingly replied. "Leave it to me, and all will be well.
+To-morrow I will come here and dress myself in your robe, and I will
+turn the tables on him."
+
+At first the Abbot demurred, but in the end he yielded, and the matter
+was settled.
+
+The next day the shepherd went boldly to find the Emperor.
+
+"Well, Reverend Abbot," the Emperor said with serenity, "have you found
+out the answers?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, sire."
+
+"Speak, I am listening."
+
+"Sire, the sea is as deep as a stone's throw.
+
+"To measure the distance between the earth and the sun, you only need
+one cow's tail, if it is long enough.
+
+"Do you wish to know, sire, what you are thinking? Well, at this moment,
+you think, sire, that the Abbot of the convent is in your presence, and
+it is only his shepherd."
+
+The Emperor laughed so heartily that if he has not stopped laughing he
+is laughing still.
+
+[Illustration: "WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: In _Christmas Tales of Flanders._ Illustrated and collected
+by Jean De Bosschere. Dodd, Mead & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+"WHAT THE GOOD-MAN DOES IS SURE TO BE RIGHT!"[2]
+
+
+I AM going to tell you a story that was told to me when I was a little
+one, and which I like better and better the oftener I think of it. For
+it is with stories as with some men and women, the older they grow, the
+pleasanter they grow, and that is delightful!
+
+Of course you have been into the country? Well, then, you must have seen
+a regularly poor old cottage. Moss and weeds spring up amid the thatch
+of the roof, a stork's nest decorates the chimney (the stork can never
+be dispensed with), the walls are aslant, the windows low (in fact, only
+one of them can be shut), the baking-oven projects forward, and an
+elder-bush leans over the gate, where you will see a tiny pond with a
+duck and ducklings in it, close under a knotted old willow-tree. Yes,
+and then there is a watch-dog that barks at every passer-by.
+
+Just such a poor little cottage as this was the one in my story, and in
+it dwelt a husband and wife. Few as their possessions were, one of them
+they could do without, and that was a horse, that used to graze in the
+ditch beside the highroad. The good-man rode on it to town, he lent it
+to his neighbors, and received slight services from them in return, but
+still it would be more profitable to sell the horse, or else exchange it
+for something they could make of more frequent use. But which should
+they do? sell, or exchange?
+
+"Why, you will find out what is best, good-man," said the wife. "Isn't
+this market-day? Come, ride off to the town--get money, or what you can
+for the horse--whatever you do is sure to be right. Make haste for the
+market!"
+
+So she tied on his neckerchief--for that was a matter she understood
+better than he--she tied it with a double knot, and made him look quite
+spruce; she dusted his hat with the palm of her hand; and she kissed him
+and sent him off, riding the horse that was to be either sold or
+bartered. Of course, he would know what to do.
+
+The sun was hot, and not a cloud in the sky. The road was dusty, and
+such a crowd of folk passed on their way to market. Some in wagons, some
+on horseback, some on their own legs. A fierce sun and no shade all the
+way.
+
+A man came driving a cow--as pretty a cow as could be. "That creature
+must give beautiful milk," thought the peasant; "it would not be a bad
+bargain if I got that. I say, you fellow with the cow!" he began aloud:
+"let's have some talk together. Look you, a horse, I believe, costs more
+than a cow, but it is all the same to me, as I have more use for a
+cow--shall we make an exchange?"
+
+"To be sure!" was the answer, and the bargain was made.
+
+The good-man might just as well now turn back homeward--he had finished
+his business. But he had made up his mind to go to market, so to market
+he must go, if only to look on, so, with his cow, he continued on his
+way. He trudged fast, so did the cow, and soon they overtook a man who
+was leading a sheep--a sheep in good condition, well clothed with wool.
+
+"I should very much like to have that!" said the peasant. "It would find
+pasture enough by our road-side, and in winter we might take it into our
+own room. And really it would be more reasonable for us to be keeping a
+sheep than a cow. Shall we exchange?"
+
+Yes, the man who owned the sheep was quite willing; so the exchange was
+made, and the good-man now went on with his sheep. Presently there
+passed him a man with a big goose under his arm.
+
+"Well, you have got a heavy fellow there!" quoth the peasant. "Feathers
+and fat in plenty! How nicely we could tie her up near our little pond,
+and it would be something for the good-wife to gather up the scraps for.
+She has often said: 'If we had but a goose!' Now she can have one--and
+she shall, too! Will you exchange? I will give you my sheep for your
+goose, and say 'thank you' besides."
+
+The other had no objection, so the peasant had his will and his goose.
+He was now close to the town; he was wearied with the heat and the
+crowd, folk and cattle pushing past him, thronging on the road, in the
+ditch, and close up to the turnpike-man's cabbage-garden, where his one
+hen was tied up, lest in her fright she should lose her way and be
+carried off. It was a short-backed hen: she winked with one eye, crying,
+"Cluck, cluck!" What she was thinking of I can't say, but what the
+peasant thought on seeing her, was this: "That is the prettiest hen I
+have ever seen--much prettier than any of our parson's chickens. I
+should very much like to have her. A hen can always pick up a grain here
+and there--can provide for herself. I almost think it would be a good
+plan to take her instead of the goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked.
+"Exchange?" repeated the owner; "not a bad idea!" So it was done; the
+turnpike-man got the goose, the peasant the hen.
+
+He had transacted a deal of business since first starting on his way to
+the town; hot was he, and wearied too; he must have a dram and a bit of
+bread. He was on the point of entering an inn, when the innkeeper met
+him in the doorway swinging a sack chock-full of something.
+
+"What have you there?" asked the peasant.
+
+"Mellow apples," was the answer, "a whole sackful for swine."
+
+"What a quantity! wouldn't my wife like to see so many! Why, the last
+year we had only one single apple on the whole tree at home. Ah! I wish
+my wife could see them!"
+
+"Well, what will you give me for them?"
+
+"Give for them? why, I will give you my hen." So he gave the hen, took
+the apples, and entered the inn, and going straight up to the bar, set
+his sack upright against the stove without considering that there was a
+fire lighted inside. A good many strangers were present, among them two
+Englishmen, both with their pockets full of gold, and fond of laying
+wagers, as Englishmen in stories are wont to be.
+
+Presently there came a sound from the stove, "Suss--suss--suss!" the
+apples were roasting. "What is that?" folk asked, and soon heard the
+whole history of the horse that had been exchanged, first for a cow, and
+lastly for a sack of rotten apples.
+
+"Well! won't you get a good sound cuff from your wife, when you go
+home?" said one of the Englishmen. "Something heavy enough to fell an
+ox, I warn you!"
+
+"I shall get kisses, not cuffs," replied the peasant. "My wife will say,
+'Whatever the good-man does is right.'"
+
+"A wager!" cried the Englishmen, "for a hundred pounds?"
+
+"Say rather a bushelful," quoth the peasant, "and I can only lay my
+bushel of apples with myself and the good-wife, but that will be more
+than full measure, I trow."
+
+"Done!" cried they. And the innkeeper's cart was brought out forthwith,
+the Englishmen got into it, the peasant got into it, the rotten apples
+got into it, and away they sped to the peasant's cottage.
+
+"Good evening, wife."
+
+"Same to you, good-man."
+
+"Well, I have exchanged the horse, not sold it."
+
+"Of course," said the wife, taking his hand, and in her eagerness to
+listen noticing neither the sack nor the strangers.
+
+"I exchanged the horse for a cow."
+
+"O! how delightful! now we can have milk, butter, and cheese, on our
+table. What a capital idea!"
+
+"Yes, but I exchanged the cow for a sheep."
+
+"Better and better!" cried the wife. "You are always so thoughtful; we
+have only just grass enough for a sheep. But now we shall have ewe's
+milk, and ewe's cheese, and woolen stockings, nay, woolen jackets too;
+and a cow would not give us that; she loses all her hairs. But you are
+always such a clever fellow."
+
+"But the ewe I exchanged again for a goose."
+
+"What! shall we really keep Michaelmas this year, good-man? You are
+always thinking of what will please me, and that was a beautiful
+thought. The goose can be tethered to the willow-tree and grow fat for
+Michaelmas Day."
+
+"But I gave the goose away for a hen," said the peasant.
+
+"A hen? well, that was a good exchange," said his wife. "A hen will lay
+eggs, sit upon them, and we shall have chickens. Fancy! a hen-yard! that
+is just the thing I have always wished for most."
+
+"Ah, but I exchanged the hen for a sack of mellow apples."
+
+"Then I must give thee a kiss," cried the wife. "Thanks, my own husband.
+And now I have something to tell. When you were gone I thought how I
+could get a right good dinner ready for you: omelets with parsley. Now I
+had the eggs, but not the parsley. So I went over to the schoolmaster's;
+they have parsley, I know, but the woman is so crabbed, she wanted
+something for it. Now what could I give her? nothing grows in our
+garden, not even a rotten apple, not even that had I for her; but now I
+can give her ten, nay, a whole sackful. That is famous, good-man!" and
+she kissed him again.
+
+"Well done!" cried the Englishmen. "Always down hill, and always happy!
+Such a sight is worth the money!" And so quite contentedly they paid the
+bushelful of gold pieces to the peasant, who had got kisses, not cuffs,
+by his bargains.
+
+Certainly virtue is her own reward, when the wife is sure that her
+husband is the wisest man in the world, and that whatever he does is
+right. So now you have heard this old story that was once told to me,
+and I hope have learnt the moral.
+
+[Illustration: WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 2: Reprinted by special permission from _Stories and Tales_,
+by Hans Christian Andersen. Copyright by Houghton, Mifflin Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WHERE TO LAY THE BLAME[3]
+
+     Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
+     following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of whom
+     I shall tell you.
+
+
+THERE was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day long and
+had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat by the fire,
+rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for supper that his
+wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as sharp as vinegar, and
+his temper hot enough to fry fat.
+
+While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make himself
+comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the door. The good
+woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad all in red from head
+to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as white as winter snow.
+
+The fisherman's wife stood gasping and staring at the strange figure,
+but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. "Bring your nets,
+fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There is something that I want
+you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you for your fishing
+as never fisherman was paid before."
+
+"Not I," said the fisherman; "I go out no more this night. I have been
+fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have caught
+nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave a good
+supper and a warm fire at your bidding." But the fisherman's wife had
+listened to what the old man had said about paying for the job, and she
+was of a different mind from her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man
+promises to pay you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell
+you, and my advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would
+not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, "My
+advice to you is that you go."
+
+The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The
+wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her
+temper; she only said to everything that he said, "My advice to you is
+that you go."
+
+At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
+spitting his words at her; "if you drive me out into the night, I
+suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words that so many men
+say: "Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife's advice."
+
+Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and
+the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along
+like black spiders behind them.
+
+Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through
+the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where
+nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.
+
+"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven
+years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as
+this."
+
+But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle
+with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then
+out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a
+little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents
+and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his
+pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he
+took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.
+
+Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a dense
+smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far and near,
+till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then the old man
+began to utter strange spells and words.
+
+Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and
+nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth
+rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear
+till his teeth chattered in his head.
+
+Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as still as
+death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever. "Now," said
+the old magician--for such he was--"now we are about to take a journey
+such as no one ever traveled before. Heed well what I tell you. Speak
+not a single word, for if you do, misfortune will be sure to happen."
+
+"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even 'boo' to a goose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say," said
+the fisherman.
+
+"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as well."
+Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready to tie
+it about the fisherman's eyes.
+
+"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even so much as a single feather?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."
+
+But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes, and then
+he was as blind as a bat.
+
+"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and hold
+fast."
+
+The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
+something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk! whizz!
+off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was left for him
+to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to hold fast. On they
+went, and on they went, until, after a great while, whatever it was that
+was carrying him lit upon the ground, and there the fisherman found
+himself standing, for that which had brought him had gone.
+
+The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
+fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
+nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked sand
+upon the other.
+
+"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old magician;
+"for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."
+
+The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them, and then
+cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so much as a
+herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he had caught
+something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and pulled, until
+by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should it be but a great
+chest of wood, blackened by sea-water, and covered with shells and green
+moss.
+
+That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for. From his
+pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he fitted into a
+key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back the lid; the fisherman
+looked within, and there was the prettiest little palace that man's eye
+ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as
+snow. The old magician lifted the little palace out of the box and set
+it upon the ground.
+
+Then, lo and behold! a marvelous thing happened; for the palace
+instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble, until it
+stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the windows
+bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the sound of music
+and voices and laughter coming from within.
+
+Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange thing when
+another happened. The old magician took off his clothes and his
+face--yes, his face--for all the world as though it had been a mask, and
+there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever the light looked
+on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with wonder, he led the way
+up the great flight of marble steps to the palace door. As he came the
+door swung open with a blaze of light, and there stood hundreds of
+noblemen, all clad in silks and satins and velvets, who, when they saw
+the magician, bowed low before him, as though he had been a king.
+Leading the way, they brought the two through halls and chambers and
+room after room, each more magnificent than the other, until they came
+to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the others.
+
+At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady more
+lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as diamonds, her
+cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold. She came half-way
+down the steps of the throne to welcome the magician, and when the two
+met they kissed one another before all those who were looking on. Then
+she brought him to the throne and seated him beside her, and there they
+talked for a long time very earnestly.
+
+Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him like an
+owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they will give a body a
+bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the truth, the good supper he had
+come away from at home had left a sharp hunger gnawing at his insides,
+and he longed for something good and warm to fill the empty place. But
+time passed, and not so much as a crust of bread was brought to stay his
+stomach.
+
+By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon the
+throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the hand, and,
+turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud voice, "Behold him
+who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of jewels! Unto him do I give
+it, and with it all power of powers!" Thereon she opened a golden casket
+that stood beside her, and brought thence a little crystal ball, about
+as big as a pigeon's egg, in which was something that glistened like a
+spark of fire. The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his
+bosom; but what it was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
+know I shall not tell you.
+
+Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
+fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men came
+carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was full of bags
+of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Have what?" said the fisherman.
+
+"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.
+
+"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."
+
+"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the chief
+treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a cataract
+of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen so much wealth in
+all his life before, and he stood like a man turned to stone.
+
+"Is all this mine?" said the fisherman.
+
+"It is," said the beautiful lady.
+
+"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.
+
+Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to the
+fisherman, left the throne room the same way that they had come. The
+noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and back they
+went through the other apartments, until at last they came to the door.
+Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened!
+
+If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble it
+vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to be seen
+but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky overhead. The fisherman
+shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled, and was as heavy as
+lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich for life. "But anyhow,"
+said he, "they might have given a body a bite to eat."
+
+The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making himself
+as hoary and as old as before. He took out flint and steel, and his
+sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made a great fire and
+smoke just as he had done before. Then again he tied his handkerchief
+over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said he, "what I told you when we
+started upon our journey. Keep your mouth tight shut, for if you utter
+so much as a single word you are a lost man. Now throw your leg over
+what you feel and hold fast."
+
+The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap of gold in the other
+hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he had felt
+before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone through the air
+like a sky-rocket.
+
+Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time, so he
+began to think he would like to see what sort of a creature it was upon
+which he was riding thus through the sky. So he contrived, in spite of
+his net and cap, to push up the handkerchief from over one eye. Out he
+peeped, and then he saw what the strange steed was. He was riding upon a
+he-goat as black as night, and in front of him was the magician riding
+upon just such another, his great red robe fluttering out in the
+moonlight like huge red wings.
+
+"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is a
+billy-goat!"
+
+Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down fell the
+fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over and around and
+around like a frog. He held tightly to his net, but away flew his fur
+cap, the golden money falling in a shower like sparks of yellow light.
+Down he fell and down he fell, until his head spun like a top.
+
+By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft rushes.
+Into the very middle of it he tumbled, and right through the
+thatch--bump!--into the room below.
+
+The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a noise
+as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to wake the dead.
+Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and winking with sleep, and
+with her brains as addled as a duck's egg in a thunderstorm.
+
+"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and rubbed his
+shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's advice!"
+
+[Illustration: THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 3: Reprinted by special permission from _Twilight Land,_ by
+Howard Pyle. Copyright by Harper & Brothers]
+
+
+
+
+THE WINDS, THE BIRDS, AND THE TELEGRAPH WIRES[4]
+
+
+LONG, long ago, a hundred times as long as any one can remember, the
+Great Earth King became so very, very busy about a great many things
+that there were several things that he could not do. So he sat himself
+down and rested his great head upon his hand, and thought, and thought,
+and thought until he decided that he must have some assistance. He would
+advertise for some messengers! So he seized a great brush, as big as a
+church steeple, dipped it into the red and golden sunset light, and
+wrote in big letters high on the sky, that every one far and near could
+read:
+
+     WANTED! MESSENGERS! FLEETER THAN HORSES, SWIFTER THAN MEN, TO CARRY
+     MY MESSAGES, A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+and he signed it simply, "The Earth King." Then he went into his rainbow
+house and laid himself down to sleep on his rainbow bed.
+
+He had scarcely fallen asleep when there came a _rustle, rustle,
+rustle_ at the rainbow window,
+and a _rattle, rattle, rattle_ at the rainbow door. He sprang quickly
+from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came the reply, "come to serve the King."
+
+Then the King opened the door. There before him stood four of the
+strangest creatures that he had ever seen. They were so light that they
+could stand on nothing; they had great wide wings; they had pale faces
+and gleaming eyes; and they had light garments that floated and flapped
+and fluttered in the breeze.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the Winds," answered the mightiest of the four, "East Wind, West
+Wind, South Wind, North Wind," pointing to each in turn, himself last.
+"We have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten._"
+
+Then the King spoke to them in deep and solemn tone: "The task is a
+great one. The King's business is grave and important. My messengers
+must be swift and faithful. Are ye able?"
+
+Then the four winds piously crossed their breasts with their wings and
+whispered, "Try us and see, try us and see, try us and see."
+
+So the King tried them.
+
+"Down by the sea," said the King, "far over the mountains, many hours
+away, there lives a fisher folk that I love. Every day the men of the
+village go forth in their little boats to fish, and every evening they
+come home with their catch. But of late thick and heavy clouds have hung
+about them. They have not dared go forth lest they should not reach home
+again, and their families begin to be in want. Go to them to-day. Drive
+away the fog and clouds that the people may be happy again. Quick!
+away!"
+
+Then the four winds lifted their swift, beautiful wings and were gone.
+Faster and faster they flew till none could tell how fast they flew.
+Over the meadows they went and over the mountains. Each tried to
+outwing the others until it became a fierce and careless game. So
+blind and careless were they in their sport that they did not notice how
+they whirled the sand, and broke the trees, and tossed the water.
+Swiftly through the fishing village they tore, hurling its poor houses
+to the ground and _crashing, dashing, slashing, smashing_ the waves
+upon the fallen wrecks and the frightened and suffering folk.
+
+Not until they were weary with their furious sport did they remember the
+errand on which the King had sent them. They retraced their steps as
+quickly as they could, but alas! to their shame and grief, the village
+lay in ruins and the people wept for their loss.
+
+Then the Earth King was very sad and angry. He brought the shameful
+winds before his court. "False and faithless winds," he said, in stern
+and awful voice, "ye did not do my errand; ye were traitors to your
+trust; great shall be your punishment. Nevermore shall ye be my
+messengers, evermore shall ye be my slaves. Away from my sight!"
+
+Then the faithless winds departed from before the face of the King, and
+in shame and sorrow went moaning among the caves and the rocks by the
+seaside, and sighing among the lonely pine trees in the wilderness, and
+even to this day you may hear the echoes of their moans and sighs.
+
+The Earth King was sorrowful, but not discouraged. Again he seized the
+great paint brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped it into the red
+and golden sunset light, and wrote in big letters high on the sky that
+every one far and near could read:
+
+    WANTED! MESSENGERS!
+    FLEETER THAN HORSES,
+    SWIFTER THAN MEN,
+    TO CARRY MY MESSAGES,
+    A MILLION TIMES TEN.
+
+Then he went into his rainbow house and laid himself down on his rainbow
+bed. He scarcely had taken forty winks when he heard a _rat-tat-tatting_
+on the rainbow window and a _rap-rap-rapping_ on the rainbow door.
+Quickly he leaped from his great bed.
+
+"Who be ye?" he asked.
+
+"We be messengers," came a gentle voice through the keyhole, "come to
+serve the King."
+
+Then he opened the door, and there before him flitted and twittered a
+company of the most curious little people that he ever had set eyes
+upon. They had each a pair of beady eyes, a little pointed nose, a set
+of little scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, fitting as snug
+as ever the tailor could make it.
+
+"What are your names?" asked the King.
+
+"We are the birds, and our names are many. We saw the King's sign in the
+sky and have come--
+
+    _Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+Then the King, remembering the Winds, addressed them in very deep and
+solemn tones: "The task is a great one. The King's business is exceeding
+grave and important. My messengers must be swift and faithful, must
+remember my commands and keep my secrets. Are ye able?"
+
+Each bird laid his little scratchy toes on his little pointed nose and
+vowed that he would remember the King's commands and keep the King's
+secrets.
+
+"Then," said the King, "make ready. Far to the north dwells a people
+that I love. For many a month they have lived amid ice and snow and the
+bitter frosts. Now they sigh for warmer days, and I have heard them. I
+am planning a delightful surprise for them. I am going to carry spring
+to them. Go, find the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and bid them
+come at once to the King's court, that I may take them and the spring
+days to my suffering and discouraged people. Then return with all speed
+to the King, and remember --do not betray my secret."
+
+The bird-messengers hastened away as fast as ever their wings could
+carry them. They summoned the warm sunshine and the soft south wind and
+bade them make haste to the Earth King. They, of course, turned back as
+they were commanded, but before they reached home again, each one of
+them was seized with a strange, restless, uneasy feeling right in the
+middle of his feathers. It must have been the secret trying to get out.
+One by one they stole past the King's house under cover of the night and
+made their way to the north country. And when the morning came, there
+they were, sitting on the fence posts and in the apple trees, just
+bursting with the happy secret of the King.
+
+    _Then the robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+The people were very happy when they heard what the birds said, and with
+much excitement began to get ready for the springtime.
+
+Now, of course, the King knew nothing about all this, and was very happy
+in thinking of the surprise that he was to give the people. He took the
+warm sunshine and the soft south wind for companions, and made his way
+in all haste to the land of ice and snow. As he arrived, with his
+delightful secret, as he thought, hidden in his heart, he was amazed to
+find an old woman sitting in her doorway knitting.
+
+"Why are you sitting here?" he asked. "Why are you not within, warming
+your feet by the fire?"
+
+"Why, don't you know?" she said, "spring is coming!"
+
+"Spring?" he asked, almost roughly; "how do you know?"
+
+"Oh," said she with a smile, trying not to look at a robin that turned
+his back behind the picket fence, hoping that if the King saw him he
+might think he was an English sparrow, "a little bird told me."
+
+The King walked up the street, looking gloomy enough, and soon came
+across a gardener with his rake, uncovering the crocuses and the
+daffodils.
+
+"Why do you do this, my good man? Surely your flowers will freeze. You
+had much better be covering them up."
+
+"Oh, no," he said, straightening his bent back, "spring is coming."
+
+"Spring," said the King; "how do _you_ know?"
+
+"Oh," said the gardener, with a grin, and a twinkle in his left eye, as
+he caught sight of a bluebird peeking half-scared around the limb of a
+near-by apple tree, "a little bird told me."
+
+Then the disgraceful story all came out: that
+
+    _The robin pipped, and the bluebird blew;
+    The sparrow chipped, and the swallow, too:
+    "We know something,--we won't tell,--
+    Somebody's coming,--you know well.
+    This is his name ('twixt you and me),
+          S-P-R-I-N-G."_
+
+My! but wasn't the Earth King disgusted! And weren't the bird-messengers
+ashamed to come when he sternly called them! Each laid his little
+pointed nose on his little scratchy toes, and dropped his eyes and
+uttered never a word.
+
+"Silly birds," he said in scornful voice. "You vowed to keep my secrets.
+You have broken your vow. You obeyed my commands and called the south
+wind and the sunshine; so I cannot be too harsh with you. But you cannot
+keep my secrets, so I cannot keep you as my messengers. Now and then I
+may use you as my servants. Adieu!"
+
+Then the birds flew sadly away as quietly and quickly as ever they
+could, and set to work building their nests in holes in the trees and
+holes in the ground and in out-of-the-way places, making such a
+chattering meantime that neither they, nor any one else, could hear
+themselves think.
+
+By this time the Earth King was nearly discouraged. He did not know what
+in the world to do. He rested his elbow on his knee and his great head
+in his hand and thought and wondered. Then once again he rose and took
+the great brush and wrote the same big words on the sky. And for very
+weariness he lay down on a great bank of clouds and soon was sound
+asleep. As he slept, the cloud grew bigger and bigger and blacker and
+blacker, and the thunder came nearer and nearer until, all at once,
+CRASH-CRASH--the cloud seemed torn to pieces and the King leaped to his
+feet half-scared to death, even if he was a King. There before him,
+darting this way and that way, and up and down, and across-ways, was a
+swarm of little red-hot creatures that hissed and buzzed and cracked
+like the Fourth of July.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in half-fright as he rubbed his eyes, "and what
+do you want?"
+
+"Messengers, messengers, messengers," whispered they all at once, "and
+we have come to serve the King."
+
+"What are your names?"
+
+"We are the Lightning Spirits; sometimes men call us Electricity--
+
+    _The swiftest creatures that are known to men,
+    To carry your messages, a million times ten."_
+
+The King charged them gravely and solemnly, as he had done the winds and
+the birds before them, that his messengers must be true and faithful and
+must keep his secrets. But no matter how great the task nor how heavy
+the oaths with which he bound them to be faithful, they were eager, all
+of them, to serve the King. Only he must build road-ways for them. They
+had not wings to fly, and their feet were not accustomed to the highways
+of the land. They might lose their way. So the King decided to try them.
+He called his laborers and ordered them to erect tall poles, and from
+pole to pole to lay slender roadways of wire. Miles and miles of these
+roadways he built, over the hills and through the valleys. And when all
+was complete, he called the spirits to him and whispered to them his
+secret messages. Quick as thought they ran over the little roadways,
+hither and thither, and back again, doing faithfully and well the King's
+errands and keeping the King's secrets. They whispered never so much as
+a word of them. So the Earth King called a great assembly, and before
+them all appointed the Lightning Spirits to be his trusted messengers
+for ever and a day.
+
+Of course the winds were very jealous when they heard of it, and they
+determined to get revenge by stealing the messages from the spirits.
+They dashed against the wires day after day, trying to break them and
+get the secrets, but all to no purpose. All they could hear was
+MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M; and the harder they blew, the louder they heard it.
+
+The birds had all along been sorry that they had given away the great
+secret, and had been hoping that the King would give them another
+chance. They were much too gentle to do as the winds did. But they were
+very curious to find out what the King's messages were. So day after day
+they went to the wires and sat upon them and snuggled down as close to
+them as they could get and listened hard, putting now the right ear down
+and now the left--but all they could ever hear was MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M-M.
+
+_And they seem never to have got over that habit!_ If you want to find
+out for yourself the truth of this tale, _you go_ some day when the wind
+is blowing against the wires and the birds are sitting upon them,
+snuggled close, and put your ear to a telegraph pole and all _you_ will
+hear is MUM-MUM-MUM-M-M-M.
+
+[Illustration: CATHKA AND THE DEVIL]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 4: By permission of the publishers from _The City That Never
+Was Reached,_ by Dr. Jay T. Stocking. Copyright by _The Pilgrim Press_.]
+
+
+
+
+KATCHA AND THE DEVIL[5]
+
+THE STORY OF A CLINGING VINE
+
+
+THERE was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she
+owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good
+it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not
+even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for
+her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn't open her mouth without
+scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you
+could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until
+by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.
+
+Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was
+a dance either at the burgomaster's, or at the tavern. As soon as the
+bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls
+gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first
+at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the
+girls to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when
+she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday
+after Sunday just the same.
+
+One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to
+herself: "Here I am getting old and yet I've never once danced with a
+boy! Plague take it, to-day I'd dance with the devil if he asked me!"
+
+She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat
+down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had
+invited to dance.
+
+Suddenly a stranger in hunter's green came in. He sat down at a table
+near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer,
+he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she
+was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly
+and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.
+
+When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket,
+tossed it to the piper, and called out:
+
+"Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!"
+
+The boys snickered and the girls giggled, hiding behind each other and
+stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn't hear
+them laughing. But Katcha wasn't noticing them at all. Katcha was
+dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at
+her, Katcha wouldn't have cared.
+
+The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once
+did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks
+and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.
+
+"Ah," sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to
+part, "I wish I could dance with you forever!"
+
+"Very well," said the stranger. "Come with me."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"Put your arm around my neck and I'll tell you."
+
+Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a
+devil and flew straight down to hell.
+
+At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.
+
+His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was
+exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on
+tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.
+
+The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself
+with Katcha still glued to his neck.
+
+"What's that thing you've got around your neck?" the Prince asked.
+
+So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard
+Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. "So I
+asked her to dance with me," the devil said. "Afterwards just to
+frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won't let
+go of me!"
+
+"Serve you right, you dunce!" the Prince said. "How often have I told
+you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might
+have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!"
+
+"I beg your Majesty to make her let go!" the poor devil implored.
+
+"I will not!" said the Prince. "You'll have to carry her back to earth
+yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a
+lesson to you."
+
+So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with
+Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He
+promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He
+cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.
+
+Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a meadow where a
+shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his
+flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so
+that the shepherd didn't recognize him.
+
+"Hi, there," the shepherd said, "what's that you're carrying?"
+
+"Don't ask me," the devil said with a sigh. "I'm so worn out I'm nearly
+dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along
+comes a woman and jumps on my back and won't let go. I'm trying to carry
+her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don't believe
+I'm able. My legs are giving out."
+
+The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: "I tell you what: I'll
+help you. I can't leave my sheep long, but I'll carry her halfway."
+
+"Oh," said the devil, "I'd be very grateful if you did!"
+
+So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: "Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!"
+
+When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of
+the devil and leapt upon the shepherd's back, catching hold of the
+collar of his sheepskin coat.
+
+Now the young shepherd soon found that the long shaggy coat and Katcha
+made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of
+his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of
+Katcha.
+
+Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he'd like to
+throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it
+by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he
+thought he could slip out of it without Katcha's discovering what he was
+doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn't move. He
+slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn't move. He unlooped the
+first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button.
+Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk!
+he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!
+
+When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.
+
+"Where's Katcha?" he gasped.
+
+"Oh," the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "I
+decided to leave her up yonder in a pond."
+
+"My dear friend," the devil cried, "I thank you! You have done me a
+great favor. If it hadn't been for you I might be carrying Katcha till
+dooms-day. I'll never forget you and some time I'll reward you. As you
+don't know who it is you've helped, I must tell you I'm a devil."
+
+With these words the devil vanished.
+
+For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to
+himself: "Well, if they're all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able
+for them!"
+
+The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young
+duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing.
+He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as
+he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people
+until the whole land was crying out against them.
+
+Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and
+ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two
+governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the
+three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the
+duke from questioning him further.
+
+"Such danger," he said, "threatens your life and the lives of your two
+governors that I fear to speak."
+
+"Whatever it is," said the duke, "speak. But I warn you to speak the
+truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your
+life."
+
+The astrologer bowed and said: "Hear then, O Duke, what the planets
+foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day,
+at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two
+governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and
+such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you
+off to hell."
+
+The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply
+shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of
+judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.
+
+As for the governors, they couldn't eat a bite of food and were carried
+from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten
+wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all
+the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.
+
+The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of
+state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.
+
+The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his
+flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings
+in the great world.
+
+Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: "I have come,
+my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first
+quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because
+they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they're
+behaving themselves now so they're to be given another chance. But they
+don't know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first
+castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and
+the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to
+me and say: 'What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!' I'll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask
+the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just
+threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second
+governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you,
+though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the
+moon is full, I'm to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked
+that he's to have no second chance. So don't try to save him, for if you
+do you'll pay for it with your own skin. Don't forget!"
+
+The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When
+the moon was in its first quarter he went to the first castle. A great
+crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away
+the governor.
+
+Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle
+opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the
+governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.
+
+The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the
+hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.
+
+"What do you mean by this?" he shouted. "Get out of here or there'll be
+trouble!"
+
+Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the
+shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in
+reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor
+ordered that they be given him without delay.
+
+Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went
+through exactly the same performance.
+
+It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he
+had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he
+sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and
+when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously to rescue him
+likewise from the devil's clutches.
+
+"Master," the shepherd answered, "I cannot promise you anything. I have
+to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you
+really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and
+kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you
+even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place."
+
+The duke declared that with God's help he would mend his ways and the
+shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.
+
+With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full
+moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer's
+prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for
+him had changed.
+
+Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too
+soon the fatal day arrived.
+
+Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the
+arrival of the devil.
+
+Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before
+him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:
+
+"Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!"
+
+Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard,
+which was filled with a great multitude of people.
+
+At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way
+through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:
+
+"What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there'll be trouble!"
+
+"What do _you_ mean?" whispered the devil. "Don't you remember what I
+told you?"
+
+"Hush!" the shepherd whispered back. "I don't care anything about the
+duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She's alive and she's
+looking for you!"
+
+The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.
+
+All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed
+in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.
+
+As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his
+chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the
+shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.
+
+[Ilustration: THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 5: From _Czechoslovak Fairy Tales_, by Parker Fillmore.
+Copyright by Harcourt, Brace & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WHITE DOGS OF ARRAN[6]
+
+
+FOR a long hour, on that November afternoon, my brother Ted had been
+standing at the gate below the ranch house, waiting and waiting, while
+the twilight filled the round hollow of the valley as water slowly fills
+a cup. At last the figure of a rider, silhouetted against the
+rose-colored sky, came into view along the crest of the rocky ridge. The
+little cow pony was loping as swiftly as the rough trail would permit,
+but to Ted's impatient eyes it seemed to crawl as slowly as a fly on a
+window pane. Although the horseman looked like a cow puncher, at that
+distance, with his slouch hat and big saddle, the eager boy knew that it
+was the district doctor making his far rounds over the range. A swift
+epidemic had been sweeping over Montana, passing from one ranch to
+another and leaving much illness and suffering behind. Ted's uncle and
+the cousin who was his own age had both been stricken two days before
+and it seemed that the doctor would never come.
+
+"I'm glad you are here," he said as the doctor's pony, covered with foam
+and quivering with fatigue, passed through the open gate. "We have two
+patients for you."
+
+The man nodded.
+
+"Fever, I suppose," he commented, "and aching bones, and don't know what
+to make of themselves because they have never been sick before? I have
+seen a hundred such cases in the last few days. It is bad at all the
+ranches, but the sheep herders, off in their cabins by themselves, are
+hit particularly hard."
+
+He slipped from the saddle and strode into the house, leaving Ted to
+take the tired pony around to the stables. It was very dark now and
+growing cold, but he felt warm and comforted, somehow, since the doctor
+had come. He heard running feet behind him and felt a dog's nose, cold
+and wet, thrust into his hand. It was Pedro, the giant, six months' old
+wolf hound puppy, long legged and shaggy haired, the pride of Ted's life
+and the best beloved of all his possessions. The big dog followed his
+master into the stable and sat down, blinking solemnly in the circle of
+lantern light, while the boy was caring for the doctor's horse and
+bedding it down. Ted's thoughts were very busy, now with his anxieties
+about his uncle, now racing out over the range to wonder how those in
+the stricken ranch houses and lonely cabins might be faring. There was
+the ranch on Arran Creek--people there were numerous enough to care for
+each other. It might be worse at Thompson's Crossing, and, oh, how would
+it be with those shepherds who lived in tiny cottages here and there
+along the Big Basin, so far from neighbors that often for months they
+saw no other faces than the wooly vacant ones of their thousands of
+sheep.
+
+There was one, a big grizzled Irishman, whom Ted had seen only a few
+times. Nevertheless, he was one of his closest friends. They had met on
+a night when the boy was hunting, and he could remember still how they
+had lain together by the tiny camp fire, with the coyotes yelping in the
+distance, with the great plain stretching out into the dark, with the
+slender curl of smoke rising straight upward and the big stars seeming
+almost within reach of his hand in the thin air. The lonely Irishman had
+opened his heart to his new friend and had told him much of his own
+country, so unlike this big bare one, a dear green land where the
+tumbledown cottages and little fields were crowded together in such
+comforting comradeship.
+
+"You could open your window of a summer night and give a call to the
+neighbors," he sighed, "and you needn't to have the voice of the giant
+Finn McCoul to make them hear. In this place a man could fall sick and
+die alone and no one be the wiser."
+
+His reminiscences had wandered farther and farther until he began to
+tell the tales and legends familiar in his own countryside, stories of
+the "Little People" and of Ireland in ancient times. Of them all Ted
+remembered most clearly the story of the white grayhounds of the King of
+Connemara, upon which his friend had dwelt long, showing that in spite
+of its being a thousand years old, it was his favorite tale.
+
+"Like those dogs on Arran Creek, they were perhaps," the Irishman said,
+"only sleeker of coat and swifter of foot, I'm thinking."
+
+"But they couldn't be faster," Ted had objected. "The Arran dogs can
+catch coyotes and jack-rabbits and people have called those the quickest
+animals that run."
+
+"Ah," returned the other with true Irish logic, "those Arran dogs are
+Russian, they tell me, and these I speak of were of Connemara, and what
+comes out of Ireland, you may be sure, is faster and fairer than
+anything else on earth."
+
+Against such reasoning Ted had judged it impossible to argue and had
+dropped into silence and finally into sleep with the voices of the
+coyotes and the legend of the lean, white Irish grayhounds still running
+like swift water through his dreams.
+
+After that he had visited the lonely shepherd whenever he could find
+time to travel so far. Together they had hunted deer and trapped beaver
+in the foothills above the Big Basin or, when the sheep had to be moved
+to new pasture, had spent hours in earnest talk, plodding patiently in
+the dust after the slow-moving flock. The long habit of silence had
+taken deep hold upon the Irishman, but with Ted alone he seemed willing
+to speak freely. It was on one of these occasions that he had given the
+boy the image of Saint Christopher, "For," he said, "you are like to be
+a great roamer and a great traveler from the way you talk, and those who
+carry the good Saint Christopher with them, always travel safely."
+
+Now, as Ted thought of illness and pestilence spreading across the
+thinly settled state, his first and keenest apprehension was for the
+safety of his friend. His work done, he went quickly back to the house
+where the doctor was already standing on the doorstep again.
+
+"They are not bad cases, either of them," he was saying to Ted's aunt.
+"If they have good care there is no danger, but if they don't--then
+Heaven help them, I can't."
+
+Ted came close and pulled his sleeve.
+
+"Tell me," he questioned quickly, "Michael Martin isn't sick, is he?"
+
+"Michael Martin?" repeated the doctor. "A big Irishman in the cabin at
+the upper edge of Big Basin? Yes, he's down sick as can be, poor fellow,
+with no one but a gray old collie dog, about the age of himself, I
+should think, to keep him company."
+
+He turned back to give a few last directions.
+
+"I suppose you are master of the house with your uncle laid up," he said
+to Ted again, "and I will have to apply to you to lend me a fresh horse
+so that I can go on."
+
+"You're never going on to-night?" exclaimed Ted; "why, you have been
+riding for all you were worth, all day!"
+
+"Yes, and all the night before," returned the doctor cheerfully, "but
+this is no time to spare horses or doctors. Good gracious, boy, what's
+that?" For Pedro, tall and white in the dark, standing on his hind legs
+to insert an inquisitive puppy nose between the doctor's collar and his
+neck, was an unexpected and startling apparition.
+
+"That's my dog," Ted explained proudly; "Jim McKenzie, over on Arran
+Creek, gave him to me; he has a lot of them, you know. Pedro is only
+half grown now, he is going to be a lot bigger when he is a year old.
+Yes, I'll bring you a horse right away, yours couldn't go another mile."
+
+When, a few minutes later, the sound of hoofs came clattering up from
+the stables it seemed certain that there were more than four of them.
+
+"What's this?" the doctor inquired, seeing a second horse with
+saddlebags and blanket roll strapped in place and observing Ted's boots
+and riding coat.
+
+"My aunt and the girls will take care of Uncle," the boy replied, "so I
+am going out to see Michael Martin. You can tell me what to do for him
+as we ride up the trail."
+
+They could feel the sharp wind almost before they began climbing the
+ridge. So far, summer had lingered into November, but the weather was
+plainly changing now and there had been reports of heavy snowfalls in
+the mountains. The stars shone dimly, as though through a veil of mist.
+
+"You had better push on as fast as you can," advised the doctor as they
+came to the parting of their ways. "When a man is as sick as Michael,
+what ever is to happen, comes quickly." His horse jumped and snorted.
+"There's that white puppy of yours again. What a ghost he is! He is
+rather big to take with you to a sick man's cabin."
+
+Pedro had come dashing up the trail behind them, in spite of his having
+been ordered sternly to stay at home. At six months old the sense of
+obedience is not quite so great as it should be, and the love of going
+on an expedition is irresistible.
+
+"It would take me forever to drive him home now," Ted admitted; "I will
+take him along to Jim McKenzie's and leave him there with his brothers.
+I can make Arran Creek by breakfast time and ought to get to Michael's
+not long after noon. Well, so long!"
+
+The stars grew more dim and the wind keener as he rode on through the
+night. His pony cantered steadily with the easy rocking-horse motion
+that came near to lulling him to sleep. Pedro paddled alongside, his
+long legs covering the miles with untiring energy. They stopped at
+midnight to drink from the stream they were crossing, to rest a little
+and to eat some lunch from the saddlebags. Then they pressed on once
+more, on and on, until gray and crimson began to show behind the
+mountains to the eastward, and the big white house of Arran at last
+came into sight.
+
+Jim McKenzie's place was bigger than the ordinary ranch house, for there
+were gabled roofs showing through the group of trees, there were tall
+barns and a wide fenced paddock where lived the white Russian wolfhounds
+for which the Arran ranch was famous. A deep-voiced chorus of welcome
+was going up as Ted and Pedro came down the trail. The puppy responded
+joyfully and went bounding headlong to the foot of the slope to greet
+his brothers. It was a beautiful sight to see the band of great dogs,
+their coats like silver in the early morning light, romping together
+like a dozen kittens, pursuing each other in circles, checking,
+wheeling, rolling one another over, leaping back and forth over the low
+fences that divided the paddock, with the grace and free agility of
+deer. Early as it was, Jim McKenzie was walking down to the stables and
+stopped to greet Ted as, weary and dusty, he rode through the gate.
+
+"Sure we'll keep Pedro," he said when he had heard the boy's errand.
+"Yes, we've a good many sick here; I'd have sent out on the range myself
+but there was nobody to spare. They tell me the herds of sheep are in
+terrible confusion, and most of the herders are down. Poor old Michael
+Martin, I hope you get there in time to help him. Turn your horse into
+the corral, we'll give you another to go on with. Now come in to
+breakfast." Ted snatched a hurried meal, threw his saddle upon a fresh
+pony, and set off again. For a long distance he could hear the
+lamentations of Pedro protesting loudly at the paddock gate. The way,
+after he passed Arran Creek, led out into the flat country of the Big
+Basin with the sagebrush-dotted plain stretching far ahead. It seemed
+that he rode endlessly and arrived nowhere, so long was the way and so
+unchanging the landscape. Once, as he crossed a stream, a deer rose,
+stamping and snorting among the low bushes, and fled away toward the
+hills, seeming scarcely to touch the ground as it went. Later, something
+quick and silent, and looking like a reddish-brown collie, leaped from
+the sagebrush and scudded across the trail almost under his horse's
+feet.
+
+"A coyote, out in the open in daylight," he reflected, somewhat
+startled. "It must have been cold up in the mountains to make them so
+bold. That looks bad for the sheep."
+
+It was disturbing also to see how many scattered sheep he was beginning
+to pass, little bands, solitary ewes with half-grown lambs trotting at
+their heels, adventurous yearlings straying farther and farther from
+their comrades. Once or twice he tried to drive them together, but owing
+to his haste and his inexperience with their preposterous ways, he had
+very little success.
+
+"There is going to be bad weather, too," he observed as he saw the blue
+sky disappear beneath an overcast of gray. "I had better get on to
+Michael's as fast as I can."
+
+He saw the little mud and log cabin at last, tucked away among some
+stunted trees near the shoulder of a low ridge. It looked deceivingly
+near, yet he rode and rode and could not reach it. White flakes were
+flying now, fitfully at first, then thicker and thicker until he could
+scarcely see. His growing misgivings gave place to greater and greater
+anxiety concerning his friend, while there ran through his mind again
+and again the doctor's words, "Whatever is to happen, comes quickly."
+
+It was past noon and had begun to seem as though he had been riding
+forever when he breasted the final slope at last, jumped from his horse,
+and thundered at the cabin door. The whine of a dog answered him from
+within, and a faint voice, broken but still audible, told him that
+Michael was alive. The cabin, so it seemed to him as he entered, was a
+good ten degrees colder than it was outside. Poor Michael, helpless and
+shivering on the bunk in the corner, looked like the shrunken ghost of
+the giant Irishman he had known before. Ted rekindled the fire, emptied
+his saddlebags, piled his extra blankets upon the bed and, with a skill
+bred of long practice in camp cookery, set about preparing a meal.
+Michael was so hoarse as to be almost unable to speak and so weak that
+his mind wandered in the midst of a sentence, yet all of his thoughts
+were on the care of his sheep.
+
+"When I felt the sickness coming on me I tried to drive them in," he
+whispered, "but they broke and scattered and I fell beside the
+trail--they must get in--snow coming--"
+
+In an hour his fever rose again, he tossed and muttered with only
+fleeting intervals of consciousness. Ted had found food and shelter for
+his horse in the sheep shed, and had settled down to his task of anxious
+watching. The snow fell faster and faster so that darkness came on by
+mid-afternoon. He had tried to drive the old collie dog out to herd in
+the sheep, but the poor old creature would not leave its master and,
+even when pushed outside, remained whining beside the door.
+
+"He couldn't do much anyway," sighed Ted as he let him in again. "How
+those coyotes yelp! I wish, after all, that I had brought Pedro."
+
+Michael had heard the coyotes too and was striving feebly to rise from
+his bed.
+
+"I must go out to them, my poor creatures," he gasped. "Those devil
+beasts will have driven them over the whole country before morning."
+
+But he fell back, too weak to move farther, and was silent a long time.
+When he did speak it was almost aloud.
+
+"With the cold and the snow, I'm thinking there will be worse things
+abroad this night than just the coyotes."
+
+He lay very still while Ted sat beside him, beginning to feel sleepy and
+blinking at the firelight. Eleven o'clock, twelve, one, the slow hands
+of his watch pointed to the crawling hours. Michael was not asleep but
+he said nothing, he was listening too intently. It was after one and the
+boy might have been dozing, when the old man spoke again.
+
+"Hark," he said.
+
+For a moment Ted could hear nothing save the pat-pat of the snow
+against the window, but the collie dog bristled and growled as he lay
+upon the hearth and pricked his ears sharply. Then the boy heard it
+too, a faint cry and far off, not the sharp yelping of the coyotes,
+though that was ominous enough, but the long hungry howl of a timber
+wolf. Tears of weakness and terror were running down the Irishman's
+face.
+
+"My poor sheep, I must save them," he cried. "What's the value of a
+man's life alongside of the creatures that's trusted him. Those
+murderers will have every one of them killed for me."
+
+Ted jumped up quickly and bundled on his coat.
+
+"Where's your rifle, Michael?" he asked. "I don't know much about sheep,
+but I will do what I can."
+
+"The rifle?" returned Michael doubtfully. "Now, I had it on my shoulder
+the day I went out with the sickness on me, and it is in my mind that I
+did not bring it home again. But there is the little gun hanging on the
+nail; there's no more shells for it but there's two shots still left in
+the chamber."
+
+The boy took down the rusty revolver and spun the cylinder with a
+practised finger.
+
+"Two shots is right," he said, "and you have no more shells? Well, two
+shots may scare a wolf."
+
+If Michael had been in his proper senses, Ted very well knew, he would
+never have permitted, without protest, such an expedition as the boy
+was planning. As it was, however, he lay back in his bunk again, his
+mind wandering off once more into feverish dreams.
+
+"If it was in the Old Country," he muttered, "the very Little People
+themselves would rise up to help a man in such a plight. You could be
+feeling the rush of their wings in the air and could hear the cry of the
+fairy hounds across the hills. America is a good country, but, ah--it's
+not the same!"
+
+Hoping to quiet him, Ted took the little Saint Christopher from his
+pocket and laid it in the sick man's hand. Then he finished strapping
+his big boots, opened the door and slipped out quietly. Michael scarcely
+noticed his going.
+
+The snow had fallen without drifting much, nor was it yet very deep. He
+hurried down the slope, not quite knowing what he was to do, thinking
+that at least he would gather as many sheep as he could and drive them
+homeward. But there were no sheep to be found. Where so many had been
+scattered that afternoon there was now not one. The whole of the Big
+Basin seemed suddenly to have emptied of them. Presently, however, he
+found a broad trail of trampled snow which he followed, where it led
+along a tiny stream at the foot of the bridge. As he turned, he heard
+again that long, terrifying howl coming down the wind. The sheep,
+perverse enough to scatter to the four winds when their master sought to
+drive them in, had now, it seemed, gathered of their own will when so
+great a danger threatened. Ted came upon them at last, huddled together
+in a little ravine where the sparse undergrowth gave some shelter from
+the snow. He could just see them in the dim light, their gray compact
+bodies crowded close, their foolish black faces seeming to look
+piteously to him for help. They were very quiet, although now and then
+they would shift a little, stamp, and move closer. The cry of the wolf
+was stilled at last, but not because the fierce marauder was not drawing
+nearer.
+
+Yes, as he stood watching, there slipped a swift dark shape over the
+opposite edge of the hollow and flung itself upon a straggling ewe on
+the outskirts of the flock. It was followed by a second silent shadow,
+and a third. The poor sheep gave only one frantic bleat, then all was
+still again save for the sound of a hideous snapping and tearing, of a
+furious struggle muffled in the soft depths of the snow. Ted raised the
+revolver and took careful aim, he pulled the trigger, but no explosion
+followed. Michael's improvidence in letting his stock dwindle to only
+two cartridges might be counted upon also to have let those two be damp.
+Helplessly the boy spun the cylinder and snapped the hammer again and
+again, but to no purpose.
+
+The sheep was down now, with one of the savage hunters standing over it,
+another tearing at its throat while the third was slipping along the
+edge of the flock selecting a fresh victim. Ted's weapon was useless,
+yet he must do something, he could not stand and see the whole herd
+destroyed before his eyes. Perhaps he could frighten them away as one
+could coyotes: he was so angry at this senseless, brutal slaughter that
+he lost all sense of prudence. He waved his arms up and down and shouted
+at the top of his lungs. He saw the creatures drop their prey and turn
+to look up at him. He ran along the slope, still shouting, then, of a
+sudden, stepped into an unexpected hollow, lost his balance and fell
+headlong. One of the wolves left the flock and came creeping swiftly
+toward him, its belly dragging in the snow.
+
+His cry must have carried far in the quiet of the night for it was
+answered from a great way off. A deep voice broke the stillness and
+another, the call of coursing hounds who have winded their quarry but
+have not yet found its trail. And mingled with the barking chorus there
+rose high the joyful yelp of a puppy who seeks his beloved master.
+
+Ted, slipping in the snow, struggled to his knees and called again and
+again. The stealthy, approaching shadow crept a yard nearer, then paused
+to lift a gray muzzle and sniff the air. The second wolf, with
+slobbering bloody jaws, turned to listen, the flock of sheep snorted and
+stamped in the snow.
+
+A minute passed, then another. The boy managed to get to his feet. Then
+across the edge of the hollow, white against the dark underbrush, he saw
+the dogs coming, a line of swift, leaping forms, huge, shaggy and
+beautiful, their great voices all giving tongue together. Down the slope
+they came like an avalanche, only one separating himself from the others
+for a moment to fling himself upon Ted, to lick his face in ecstatic
+greeting and to rub a cold nose against his cheek. That nimble puppy
+nose it was that had lifted the latch of a gate not too securely
+fastened, and so set the whole pack free. Then Pedro ran to join his
+brothers who were sweeping on to battle. Wolfhounds are taught to catch,
+not to kill their quarry, but the thirst for blood was in the hearts of
+the dogs of Arran that night. There was only a moment of struggle, a
+few choking cries, and the fight was over.
+
+Day broke next morning, clear and bright, with the chinook blowing, the
+big warm wind that melts the snows and lays the white hills bare almost
+in an hour. Michael Martin, fallen into a proper sleep at last, woke
+suddenly and sat up in his bunk. He startled Ted, who, rather stiff and
+sore from his night's adventures, was kneeling by the fire preparing
+breakfast. The boy came quickly to his patient's side to inquire how he
+did.
+
+"It's better I am in body," the Irishman answered; "indeed I begin to
+feel almost like a whole man again. But--" he shook his head sadly, "my
+poor wits, they're gone away entirely."
+
+Michael sighed deeply.
+
+"After you were gone last night," he answered, "even my wandering senses
+had an inkling of what a dangerous errand it was, and I got up from my
+bed and stumbled to the window to call you back. Yes, the sickness has
+made me daft entirely, for as sure as I live, I saw the white grayhounds
+of Connemara go over the hill. But daft or no--" he sniffed at the odor
+of frying bacon that rose from the hearth, "I am going to relish my
+breakfast this day. Eh, glory me, if there isn't another of the
+creatures now!"
+
+For Pedro, once more applying a knowing muzzle to the clumsy latch, had
+pushed open the door and stood upon the step, wagging and apologetic,
+the morning sun shining behind him. Long-legged and awkward, he stepped
+over the threshold and came to the bedside to sniff inquisitively at the
+little silver image that lay on the blanket. Michael could never be
+persuaded to believe otherwise than that Saint Christopher had brought
+him.
+
+[Illustration: WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 6: Reprinted by permission of the publishers from _The Pool of
+Stars_, by Cornelia Meigs. Copyright, 1915, by the Macmillan Company.]
+
+
+
+
+WIND AN' WAVE AN' WANDHERIN' FLAME[7]
+
+     ("'Tis mindin' somethin' that happened far an' back o' the times o'
+     the Little People I am. Sure, 'tis meself had nigh on forgot it
+     entirely, but when all's quiet I'll be afther tellin' it.")
+
+
+THERE was always battlin' somewhere, back in those days; an' heroes that
+fought with sword an' spear--forged far up an' under the rainbow by Len
+the Smith, that was mighty in all sorts o' wisdom.
+
+Now one time he was beatin' out a great shield o' gold; an' 'twas
+wrought so cunnin' that who turned it over an' laid it on the wather
+could step on it an' sail where he would. An' for a device on it he made
+roses o' the fine gold, raised far out from it, as they'd been growin'
+right there. Almost they seemed wavin' in the wind.
+
+An' as he came to sthrikin' the last blows, his hand slipped, an' his
+great hammer went flyin' downward through the air; an' his cry o'
+command sent ringin' afther it was too late to hindher.
+
+Now 'twas about toward sunset, an' the waves were beatin' high an' wild
+afther storm on the west coast, that Artan, son o' Duallach, that was a
+king's son, was huntin' along the coast. All day he'd been tryin' to
+keep from the company o' Myrdu, his half-brother, but only by now had he
+shaken him off; an' he was runnin' swiftly, for gladness o' bein' alone
+with the breeze an' the flyin' spray.
+
+Just as the sinkin' sun touched the sea, he heard the great cryin'-out
+o' Len, out o' the North, an' looked up into the deep sky. An' there he
+saw, whirlin' down toward him, somethin' first dark an' then bright. Not
+a fearin' thought was in him; an' as it came nigh he sprang with hand
+stretched out an' caught it --just savin' it from bein' buried in the
+beach sand.
+
+The force of its fallin' sent him to his knees, but in a breath he was
+on his feet again, lookin' at what he held. Sure, 'twas nothin' less
+than a great hammer, glowin' an' darkenin' by turns, as there had been
+livin' fire within it.
+
+"What'n ever are ye, then?" cried Artan, out o' the surprise, never
+thinkin' on gettin' an answer. Yet thrue an' at once came a whisperin'
+like wind in pine forests far off--
+
+"The hammer o' Len."
+
+"An' how'll I get ye back to him, not knowin' where to find him?" asked
+Artan. "Sure, the winds must rise up an' blow me to the end o' the
+rainbow, where he sits, or I'll never get there at all."
+
+The words were scarce past his lips when down across the hills came a
+warm gust o' south wind--the last o' the storm--an' caught him up, still
+clingin' to the hammer, an' swept him upwards till he could see naught
+for mist an' hurryin' clouds. Then came a feelin' o' sinkin', an' a
+sudden jar; an' there he was standin' on green turf, lookin' at white
+mountains, risin' higher nor aught he'd seen, an' between him an' them
+shimmered the rainbow itself, glowin' all colors in the light o' sunset.
+
+"Ay, 'tis aisy seein' where I am," laughed Artan, startin' toward it
+bravely.
+
+For a while he went on, an' at last he came nigh enough to see the
+mighty shape o' Len, standin' waitin' at his forge. An' while night was
+fast comin' on, an' the stars showin' out in the sky over all, yet the
+sunfire was still flamin' up in his smithy, workin' his will at a
+word.
+
+If fear had had place in the heart of Artan, then was time for it, when
+he saw the deep eyes o' Len, like dark sea-water in caves, lookin' far
+an' through him. But never had that come to him, an' without speakin'
+he raised the hammer toward the sthrong knotted hand that claimed it.
+
+"Whist, then!" says Len, graspin' it quick for fear the metal was
+coolin'. "Say naught till I'm done!" With that he beat an' turned the
+shield, an' gave the endin' touches to it. Then, with another big shout,
+he hung it on the rainbow, flashin' an' shinin' till men on earth below
+saw it for Northern Lights in the night sky.
+
+"How came ye here in me forge, Artan, son o' Duallach?" he cried.
+
+"That I know not," spoke out Artan. "When I held yon hammer in hand, an'
+cried on the wind for blowin' me to him that owned it--for no other road
+there was for returnin' it--the warm blast came out o' the south an'
+caught me up here."
+
+"Ay," laughed Len, deep an' hearty. "The winds are at the will o' him
+that handles it; but too great a power is that to be given careless to
+mortal man. What reward will ye have, now? Whether gold, or power above
+other men, or the fairest o' maids for yer wife?"
+
+Then the blood reddened the face of Artan.
+
+"Naught care I for gold," says he. "An' power over men should be for him
+that wins it fair."
+
+"Then 'tis the fairest o' maids ye'll be afther wantin'?" asked Len.
+"Have ye seen such a one?"
+
+"Nay," says Artan. "Dark are the faces in the house o' Duallach, an'
+little to me likin'."
+
+"Then shall ye have one fair as day," says Len. He turned to where the
+shield was hangin', an' from the heart o' that same he plucked a rose o'
+the beaten gold, an' gave it to Artan.
+
+"Cast it in the sea surf at sunrise," says he, "callin'
+'Darthuil!'--then shall ye have yer reward. But one thing mind. Safely
+yer own is she not till first lost an' won back. When ye know not where
+to seek aid in searchin', cry on me name at the sea-coast, an' aid will
+there be for ye if ye come not too late--wind, wave, an' wandherin'
+flame. Never does Len forget. Hold fast yer rose."
+
+As he spoke, again came a gale, chill from the north this time, an'
+whirled Artan past cloud an' above surgin' seas, an' left him on the
+hilltop above the beach at the last hour before the dawnin'.
+
+Quick Artan hastened down the cliff, still graspin' the golden rose, an'
+stood where the little small waves curled over the stones, waitin' for
+the first gleam o' the sun to touch the sea. Hours it seemed to him, but
+minutes it was in truth, before he caught a long breath, raised the
+rose high in air, an' tossed it swift an' sure into the snowy crest of a
+green incomin' wave.
+
+"Darthuil!" he cried, an' the cliff echo made a song of it.
+
+As the drops flew upward in the red dawn an' the breaker swept in, there
+by his side stood a maid with the gold o' the rose in her hair, an' the
+white o' sea-foam in her fair skin, an' the color o' the sunrise in lips
+an' cheek. Blither nor spring, he caught her hand an' led her over the
+hills to the house o' Duallach, they two singin' for joy o' livin' as
+they went.
+
+Now not long had the two been wed (an' welcome were they under the roof
+of Duallach), when Myrdu, that was half-brother to Artan, but older nor
+him, came back from far huntin', ill-pleased at missin' Artan for his
+companion, an' for helpin' him carry the red deer he'd shot.
+
+"'Tis an ill youth," says he, "an' will get no good from lyin' on the
+cliff edge an' lettin' the hunt go by."
+
+"Nay," says Duallach, slow to anger. "Fair fortune has he won, an' the
+favor o' the gods; an' has brought home a bride, fair as the sun at
+noon."
+
+Then was Myrdu half ragin' from bein' jealous; but not wishin' to show
+that same, he called for meat an' dhrink to be brought him in the great
+hall. An' Artan, wishin' to be friendly like, cried out for Darthuil to
+serve his brother. Sure, when Myrdu saw her comin' toward him--shinin'
+among the dark lasses o' Duallach's household like a star in the night
+sky--fury was in his heart for thinkin' that Artan, bein' younger nor
+him, had won what he had not, an' soon he laid plans for stealin' her
+from his brother.
+
+'Twas not many days before word o' this came to the ear o' Duallach; an'
+he, hatin' strife, bade Artan an' Darthuil take horse an' ride swiftly
+southward to the Lough o' the Lone Valley, to dwell on the little island
+in it till evil wishes had passed from the heart o' Myrdu. So Artan,
+mindin' what Len had foretold, yet thinkin' it wiser not to be afther
+losin' Darthuil at all, rode away with her on his left hand when Myrdu
+was sleepin' an' not knowin' what was bein' done.
+
+When he roused an' found them gone, an' that none o' the house would say
+whither, he was in a fine passion; but he made as if he was afther goin'
+huntin', an' took his two fierce hounds an' went off to trace the road
+they'd taken. An' sure enough, 'twas not many hours before he was on
+their path.
+
+Now safer would it have been had Artan told Darthuil the full raison why
+he was takin' her far into the shelter o' forest an' lough o' the
+wildherness; but she, trustin' him, asked naught, thinkin' no evil o'
+livin' man. So scarce had Artan left her in the low cabin on the island
+an' gone off to hunt, than Myrdu pushed through the bushes, leavin' the
+hounds on the shore behind, an' floated himself out to the island on a
+couple o' logs lashed with a thong o' deer-skin. Ay, but Darthuil was
+startled, not dhreamin' why he'd come.
+
+"'Tis Artan is hurt, an' afther sendin' me for ye," says Myrdu, lookin'
+down unaisy like, from not wishin' to meet the rare clear eyes o' her.
+"Come, an' I'll take ye where he lies."
+
+Not waitin' a moment was Darthuil, then, but hurried doin' as she was
+bid, never thinkin' what evil might be in store.
+
+Afther a few hours Artan came back through the trees, an' game a plenty
+he'd found. He pulled out his boat o' skins, an' quick paddled back to
+the island. But there he found no Darthuil; no, nor any sign o' her save
+the little print o' her sandal by the wather's edge.
+
+Then came to his mind the promise o' Len. Never darin' to waste an hour
+searchin' by himself, he ferried his horse across to the mainland,
+mounted, an' pushed for the sea. Never once did he stop for restin'
+till he was standin' where the waves beat over him, where he had cried
+on Darthuil, an' she had come to him.
+
+"Len!" he called. "Yer aidin', Len! Darthuil is stolen from me."
+
+There came a rumblin' o' thunder, an' on the shore stood a great figure,
+like a pillar o' cloud reachin' half to the sky.
+
+"Never safe yer own till lost an' found, I said," came the deep voice.
+"Now I give ye wild servants, a wind an' a wave an' a wandherin' flame
+for helpin' ye to bring her safe again. Mind well that each will obey ye
+but once, so call on them only when yer sharpest need comes. When ye've
+again set the feet o' Darthuil safe in the hall o' Duallach, none can
+take her from ye more. Now follow yer love. 'Tis to the Northland has
+Myrdu carried her. Let him not pass the White Rocks, or wind an' wave
+an' flame will lose power to aid ye. Use yer wit, now, an' use it well."
+
+Artan would have spoken to thank him, but with the last word Len was no
+more there; so he mounted again an' turned to the north; an' behind him
+came the wind, whisperin' over the grass; an' the wave, runnin' up the
+sthream near at hand; an' the flame, creepin' among dhry leaves, but
+settin' fire to naught else, its time not bein' come.
+
+Together they all thraveled the betther part of a long day, an' late on
+Artan saw dust risin' ahead. 'Twas a cloud that Myrdu had raised to hide
+the way he was goin', an' beyond it he was ridin', carryin' Darthuil
+before him on his saddle o' skins, with the two hounds lopin' along
+beside to fright her from tryin' to escape, an' to give warnin' of any
+followin'; while not many miles ahead were the White Rocks, that he was
+pushin' to reach.
+
+On hurried Artan, but his horse was wearied, an' little head could he
+make. Moreover, the cloud o' dust left him uncertain o' what was hid. So
+he thought well, an' chose wind to serve him first.
+
+"Go on, an' blow the dust far away, whisperin' courage to Darthuil the
+while," says he. An' at once the wind sped far ahead, obeyin' his
+command. When the two dogs felt it touch them, they cowered low; but
+Darthuil took heart, knowin' that help was at hand. An' the dust was no
+more hidin' her from Artan, so she waved her hand an' called aloud to
+him to ride in haste.
+
+Then Myrdu, fearin' that he might yet lose her, threw a handful o' twigs
+behind him in the road; an' fallin' they turned into dead trees,
+stoppin' the way on all sides. But Artan well knew the way to clear his
+path.
+
+"Go forward!" he cried to the wandherin' flame, "an' leave not a trace
+o' them!" As he spoke, the flame swept up high in air, roarin' an'
+smokin'; an' in half an instant naught remained o' the logs but a pile
+o' smoldherin' ashes. But still was Myrdu fast nearin' his goal, an' had
+one thing more for helpin'.
+
+He dropped a little sharp knife in the roadway; an' as it fell, it cut
+into the dust, an' there opened a wide, terrible chasm, not to be
+crossed by horse nor man. Then Artan grew clear desperate.
+
+"Wave!" he shouted, "bring Darthuil to me!"
+
+Up then it rose, rollin' forward like flood-tide in spring; an' it
+filled the gulf, an' swept away dogs an' horse an' Myrdu himself, that
+none were heard of from that on; but Darthuil it floated gentle like, as
+she had been a tuft o' thistle-down, back to Artan, waitin' for her.
+
+He caught her an' clasped her close, an' turned his horse, an' never
+halted till he led her safe into the hall o' Duallach, where none might
+steal her from him again. An' there they lived happy all their lives.
+
+But as for the wind an' the wave an' the wandherin' flame, so sweet an'
+fair was Darthuil that ne'er would they go from her to return to Len. To
+the last o' her life the wind blew soft for her when 'twas overly hot
+elsewhere, an' clear cool wather flowed up from the ground to save her
+dhrawin' any from the river, an' fire burned bright on her hearth
+without need o' plenishin'; an' all that for the love o' Darthuil, that
+was made by Len out o' the foam tossed by the wind from the sea-wave,
+an' the wandherin' flame o' the sunrise.
+
+[Illustration: THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 7: Reprinted by special permission from _The Sons O' Cormac_,
+by Aldis Dunbar. Copyright, 1920, by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE KING, THE QUEEN, AND THE BEE[8]
+
+
+ON a bright summer's day, when the sun beat down fiercely upon the heads
+of the people, King Solomon sought the shade of one of his favorite
+gardens. But even where the foliage on the trees was so thick that it
+seemed the sun's rays could not penetrate, it was also hot. Not a breath
+of air was there to fan the monarch's cheek, and he lay down on the
+thick grass and gazed through the branches of the trees at the blue sky.
+
+"This great heat makes me weary," said the King, and in a few minutes he
+had quietly fallen into a deep sleep.
+
+All was still in the beautiful garden, except for the sound of a few
+humming birds, the twittering of the moths whose many-colored wings
+looked more beautiful than ever in the bright sunshine, and the buzzing
+of the bees. But even these sounds grew still as the fierce rays from
+the sky grew hotter until all nature seemed hushed to rest. Only one
+tiny bee was left moving in the garden. It flew steadily from flower to
+flower, sipping the honey, until at length it began to feel overcome by
+the heat.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wonder what is the matter with me," buzzed the little bee.
+"This is the first time I have come out of the hive, and I do feel
+queer. I hope I am not going to faint."
+
+The little bee felt giddy, and after flying round and round dizzily for
+a few minutes it fell and dropped right on to King Solomon's nose.
+Immediately the King awoke with such a start that the little bee was
+frightened almost out of its wits and flew straight back to the hive.
+
+King Solomon sat up and looked round to see what it was that had
+awakened him so rudely. He felt a strange pain at the tip of his nose.
+He rubbed it with his royal forefinger, but the pain increased.
+
+Attendants came rushing towards him and asked him what was the matter.
+
+"I must have been stung on the nose by a bee," said the King angrily.
+"Send for the Lord High Physician and the Keeper of the Court Plaister
+immediately. I cannot have a blister on the tip of my nose. To-morrow I
+am to be visited by the Queen of Sheba, and it will not do to have a
+swollen nose tied up in a sling."
+
+The Lord High Physician came with his many assistants, each carrying a
+box of ointment, or lint, or some other preparation which might be
+required. King Solomon's nose, and especially the tip of it, was
+examined most carefully through a microscope.
+
+"It is almost nothing," said the Lord High Physician reassuringly. "It
+is just a tiny sting from a very little bee which did not leave its
+sting in the wound. It will be healed in an hour or two and the Queen of
+Sheba will not be able to notice that anything at all is the matter
+to-morrow."
+
+"But meanwhile it smarts," said King Solomon. "I am seriously annoyed
+with the little bee. How dared it sting me, King Solomon, monarch of all
+living things on earth, in the air and in the waters. Knows it not that
+I am its Royal Master to whom all homage and respect is due?"
+
+The pain soon ceased, but His Majesty did not like the smell of the
+greasy ointment which was put on his nose, and he determined that the
+bee should be brought before him for trial.
+
+"Place the impudent little bee under arrest at once," he commanded, "and
+bring it before me so that I may hear what it has to say."
+
+"But I know it not," returned the Lord High Chamberlain, to whom the
+command was given.
+
+"Then summon the Queen bee before me in an hour and bid her bring the
+culprit," answered the monarch. "Tell her that I shall hold all the bees
+guilty until the saucy little offender is produced before me."
+
+The order was carried to the hive by one of the butterflies in
+attendance on the King and spread consternation among the bees. Such a
+buzzing there was that the butterfly said:
+
+"Stop making that noise. If the King hears you, it will only make
+matters worse."
+
+The Queen bee promised to obey King Solomon's command, and in an hour
+she made her appearance in state before the great throne. Slowly and
+with much pomp, the Queen bee made her way to King Solomon. She was the
+largest of the bees and was escorted by a bodyguard of twelve female
+bees who cleared the way before her, walking backwards and bowing
+constantly with their faces to her.
+
+King Solomon was surrounded by all his Court which included living
+beings, fairies, demons, spirits, goblins, animals, birds and insects.
+All raised their voices in a loud hurrah when His Majesty took his seat
+on the Throne, and a very strange noise the Court made. The lions
+roared, the serpents hissed, the birds chirped, the fairies sang and the
+demons howled. The goblins that had no voices could only grin.
+
+"Silence!" cried a herald. "The Queen bee is requested to stand forth."
+
+Still attended by her twelve guards, the Queen bee approached the foot
+of the Throne and made obeisance to King Solomon.
+
+"I, thy slave, the Queen bee," she buzzed, "am here at thy bidding,
+mighty ruler, great and wise. Command and thou shalt be obeyed."
+
+"It is well," replied Solomon. "Hast thou brought with thee the culprit,
+the bee that did dare to attack my nose with its sting?"
+
+"I have, your Majesty," answered the Queen bee. "It is a young bee that
+this day did leave the hive for the first time. It has confessed to me.
+It did not attack your Majesty wilfully, but by accident, owing to
+giddiness caused by the heat, and it could not have injured your Majesty
+seriously, because it left not its sting in the wound. Be merciful,
+gracious King."
+
+"Fear not my judgment," said the King. "Bid the bee stand forth."
+
+Tremblingly, the little bee stood at the foot of the Throne and bowed
+three times to King Solomon.
+
+"Knowest thou not," said the King, "that I am thy royal master whose
+person must be held sacred by all living things?"
+
+"Yes, gracious Majesty," buzzed the bee. "Thy slave is aware of this. It
+was but an accident, and it is the nature of thy slave, the bee, who is
+in duty bound to obey thy laws, to thrust forth its sting when in
+danger. I thought I was in danger when I fell."
+
+"So was I, for I was beneath you," returned King Solomon.
+
+"Punish me not," pleaded the bee. "I am but one of your Majesty's
+smallest and humblest slaves, but even I may be of service to your
+Majesty some day."
+
+These words from the little bee made the whole Court laugh. Even the
+goblins which could not speak grinned from ear to ear and rolled their
+big eyes.
+
+"Silence!" commanded the King sternly. "There is naught to laugh at in
+the bee's answer. It pleases me well. Go, thou art free. Some day I may
+need thee."
+
+The little bee bowed its head three times before the King and flew away,
+buzzing happily.
+
+Next day it kept quite close to the Palace.
+
+"I want to see the procession when the Queen of Sheba arrives," it
+said, "and I also must be near the King in case His Majesty may want
+me."
+
+In great state, the beautiful Queen of Sheba, followed by hundreds of
+handsomely robed attendants, approached King Solomon who was seated on
+his Throne, surrounded by all his Court.
+
+"Great and mighty King of Israel," she said, curtseying low, "I have
+heard of thy great wisdom and would fain put it to the test. Hitherto
+all questions put to thee hast thou answered without difficulty. But I
+have sworn to puzzle thy wondrous wisdom with my woman's wit. Be
+heedful."
+
+"Beauteous Queen of Sheba," returned King Solomon, rising and bowing in
+return to her curtsey, "thou art as witty as thou art fair, and if thou
+art successful in puzzling me, thy triumph shall be duly rewarded. I
+will load thee with rich presents and proclaim thy wit and wisdom to the
+whole world."
+
+"I accept thy challenge," replied the Queen, "and at once."
+
+Behind Her Majesty stood two beautiful girl attendants, each holding a
+bouquet of flowers. The Queen of Sheba took the flowers, and holding a
+bouquet in each hand, said to King Solomon:
+
+"Tell me, thou who art the wisest man on earth, which of these bunches
+of flowers is real and which artificial."
+
+"They are both beautiful and their fragrance delicious in the extreme,"
+replied King Solomon.
+
+"Ah," said the Queen, "but only one bunch has fragrance. Which is it?"
+
+King Solomon looked at the flowers. Both bunches looked exactly alike.
+From where he sat, it was impossible to detect any difference. He did
+not answer at once, and he knit his brows as if perplexed. The courtiers
+also looked troubled. Never before had they seen the King hesitate.
+
+"Is it impossible for your Majesty to answer the question?" the Queen
+asked.
+
+Solomon shook his head and smiled.
+
+"Never yet has a problem baffled me," he said. "Your Majesty shall be
+answered, and correctly."
+
+"And at once," said the Queen of Sheba imperiously.
+
+"So be it," answered King Solomon, gazing thoughtfully round and raising
+his magic scepter.
+
+Immediately he heard what no one else did, the faint buzzing of the tiny
+wings of the little bee which had settled on one of the window panes of
+the Palace.
+
+"Bid that window be opened," he commanded, pointing to it with his
+scepter, "and let the bee enter to obey my wish."
+
+The window was promptly opened, and in flew the little bee. Straight
+towards the Queen of Sheba it flew, and now its buzzing could be heard
+by all the courtiers, who eagerly watched its flight through the air.
+Without any hesitation, it settled on the bouquet in the Queen's left
+hand.
+
+"Thou hast my answer, fair Queen of Sheba," said King Solomon, rising,
+"given to thee by one of the tiniest of my subjects. It has settled on
+the flowers that are natural. The bouquet in your right hand is made by
+human hands."
+
+The whole Court applauded the monarch's wisdom in bidding the little bee
+help him out of his difficulty.
+
+"Your Majesty is indeed the wisest man on earth," said the Queen.
+
+"Thanks, my little friend," said the King to the bee, and it flew away,
+buzzing merrily.
+
+[Illustration: THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 8: From _Jewish Fairy Tales and Fables,_ by Aunt Naomi. Robert
+Scott, London.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END[9]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it wasn't in my
+time, nor in your time, nor in any one else's time, there was a girl
+whose mother had died, and her father married again. And her stepmother
+hated her because she was more beautiful than herself, and she was very
+cruel to her. She used to make her do all the servant's work, and never
+let her have any peace.
+
+At last, one day, the stepmother thought to get rid of her altogether;
+so she handed her a sieve and said to her: "Go, fill it at the Well of
+the World's End and bring it home to me full, or woe betide you." For
+she thought she would never be able to find the Well of the World's End,
+and, if she did, how could she bring home a sieve full of water?
+
+Well, the girl started off, and asked every one she met to tell her
+where was the Well of the World's End. But nobody knew, and she didn't
+know what to do, when a queer little old woman, all bent double, told
+her where it was, and how she could get to it. So she did what the old
+woman told her, and at last arrived at the Well of the World's End. But
+when she dipped the sieve in the cold, cold water, it all ran out again.
+She tried and she tried again, but every time it was the same; and at
+last she sat down and cried as if her heart would break.
+
+Suddenly she heard a croaking voice, and she looked up and saw a great
+frog with goggle eyes looking at her and speaking to her.
+
+"What's the matter, dearie?" it said.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear," she said, "my stepmother has sent me all this long
+way to fill this sieve with water from the Well of the World's End, and
+I can't fill it no how at all."
+
+"Well," said the frog, "if you promise me to do whatever I bid you for a
+whole night long, I'll tell you how to fill it."
+
+So the girl agreed, and the frog said:
+
+    "Stop it with moss and daub it with clay,
+    And then it will carry the water away";
+
+and then it gave a hop, skip, and a jump, and went flop into the Well of
+the World's End.
+
+So the girl looked about for some moss, and lined the bottom of the
+sieve with it, and over that she put some clay, and then she dipped it
+once again into the Well of the World's End; and this time the water
+didn't run out, and she turned to go away.
+
+Just then the frog popped up its head out of the Well of the World's
+End, and said: "Remember your promise."
+
+"All right," said the girl; for, thought she, "what harm can a frog do
+me?"
+
+So she went back to her stepmother, and brought the sieve full of water
+from the Well of the World's End. The stepmother was angry as angry, but
+she said nothing at all.
+
+That very evening they heard something tap-tapping at the door low down,
+and a voice cried out:
+
+    "Open the door, my hinny, my heart,
+      Open the door, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words that you and I spoke,
+      Down in the meadow, at the World's End Well."
+
+"Whatever can that be?" cried out the stepmother, and the girl had to
+tell her all about it, and what she had promised the frog.
+
+"Girls must keep their promises," said the stepmother. "Go and open the
+door this instant." For she was glad the girl would have to obey a nasty
+frog.
+
+So the girl went and opened the door, and there was the frog from the
+Well of the World's End. And it hopped, and it hopped, and it jumped,
+till it reached the girl, and then it said:
+
+    "Lift me to your knee, my hinny, my heart;
+      Lift me to your knee, my own darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      Down in the meadow by the World's End Well."
+
+But the girl didn't like to, till her stepmother said: "Lift it up this
+instant, you hussy! Girls must keep their promises!"
+
+So at last she lifted the frog up on to her lap, and it lay there for a
+time, till at last it said:
+
+    "Give me some supper, my hinny, my heart,
+      Give me some supper, my darling;
+    Remember the words you and I spake,
+      In the meadow, by the Well of the World's End."
+
+Well, she didn't mind doing that, so she got it a bowl of milk and
+bread, and fed it well. And when the frog had finished, it said:
+
+    "Go with me to bed, my hinny, my heart,
+      Go with me to bed, my own darling;
+    Mind you the words you spake to me,
+      Down by the cold well, so weary."
+
+But that the girl wouldn't do, till her stepmother said: "Do what you
+promised, girl; girls must keep their promises. Do what you're bid, or
+out you go, you and your froggie."
+
+So the girl took the frog with her to bed, and kept it as far away from
+her as she could. Well, just as the day was beginning to break what
+should the frog say but:
+
+    "Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,
+      Chop off my head, my own darling;
+    Remember the promise you made to me,
+      Down by the cold well so weary."
+
+At first the girl wouldn't, for she thought of what the frog had done
+for her at the Well of the World's End. But when the frog said the words
+over again, she went and took an ax and chopped off its head, and lo!
+and behold, there stood before her a handsome young prince, who told her
+that he had been enchanted by a wicked magician, and he could never be
+unspelled till some girl would do his bidding for a whole night, and
+chop off his head at the end of it.
+
+The stepmother was surprised indeed when she found the young prince
+instead of the nasty frog, and she wasn't best pleased, you may be sure,
+when the prince told her that he was going to marry her stepdaughter
+because she had unspelled him. But married they were, and went away to
+live in the castle of the king, his father, and all the stepmother had
+to console her was, that it was all through her that her stepdaughter
+was married to a prince.
+
+[Illustration: WINGS]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 9: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers, New York and London.]
+
+
+
+
+WINGS[10]
+
+
+A PEASANT girl was feeding geese, and she wept. The farmer's daughter
+came by and asked, "What are you blubbering about?"
+
+"I haven't got any wings," cried the peasant girl. "Oh, I wish I could
+grow some wings."
+
+"You stupid!" said the farmer's daughter. "Of course you haven't got
+wings. What do you want wings for?"
+
+"I want to fly up into the sky and sing my little songs there," answered
+the little peasant girl.
+
+Then the farmer's daughter was angry, and said again, "You stupid! How
+can you ever expect to grow wings? Your father's only a farm-laborer.
+They might grow on me, but not on you."
+
+When the farmer's daughter had said that, she went away to the well,
+sprinkled some water on her shoulders, and stood out among the
+vegetables in the garden, waiting for her wings to sprout. She really
+believed the sun would bring them out quite soon.
+
+But in a little while a merchant's daughter came along the road and
+called out to the girl who was trying to grow wings in the garden, "What
+are you doing standing out there, red face?"
+
+"I am growing wings," said the farmer's daughter. "I want to fly."
+
+Then the merchant's daughter laughed loudly, and cried out, "You stupid
+farm-girl; if you had wings they would only be a weight on your back."
+
+The merchant's daughter thought she knew who was most likely to grow
+wings. And when she went back to the town where she lived she bought
+some olive-oil and rubbed it on her shoulders, and went out into the
+garden and waited for her wings to grow.
+
+By and by a young lady of the Court came along, and said to her, "What
+are you doing out there, my child?"
+
+When the tradesman's daughter said that she was growing wings, the young
+lady's face flushed and she looked quite vexed.
+
+"That's not for you to do," she said. "It is only real ladies who can
+grow wings."
+
+And she went on home, and when she got indoors she filled a tub with
+milk and bathed herself in it, and then went into her garden and stood
+in the sun and waited for her wings to come out. Presently a princess
+passed by the garden, and when she saw the young lady standing there she
+sent a servant to inquire what she was doing. The servant came back and
+told her that as the young lady had wanted to be able to fly she had
+bathed herself in milk and was waiting for her wings to grow.
+
+The princess laughed scornfully and exclaimed, "What a foolish girl!
+She's giving herself trouble for nothing. No one who is not a princess
+can ever grow wings."
+
+The princess turned the matter over in her mind, and when she arrived at
+her father's palace she went into her chamber, anointed herself with
+sweet-smelling perfumes, and then went down into the palace garden to
+wait for her wings to come.
+
+Very soon all the young girls in the country round about went out into
+their gardens and stood among the vegetables so that they might get
+wings.
+
+The Fairy of the Wings heard about this strange happening and she flew
+down to earth, and, looking at the waiting girls, she said, "If I give
+you all wings and let you all go flying into the sky, who will want to
+stay at home to cook the porridge and look after the children? I had
+better give wings only to one of you, namely, to her who wanted them
+first of all."
+
+So wings grew from the little peasant girl's shoulders, and she was able
+to fly up into the sky and sing.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 10: From _The Sweet-Scented Name,_ by Fedor Sologub. Edited by
+Stephen Graham. Constable & Company, London.]
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS STORIES
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO[11]
+
+
+IN an old time, long ago, when the fairies were in the world, there
+lived a little girl so uncommonly fair and pleasant of look, that they
+called her Snowflower. This girl was good as well as pretty. No one had
+ever seen her frown or heard her say a cross word, and young and old
+were glad when they saw her coming.
+
+Snowflower had no relation in the world but a very old grandmother. . . .
+Every evening, when the fire was heaped with the sticks she had
+gathered till it blazed and crackled up the cottage chimney, Dame
+Frostyface set aside her wheel, and told her a new story. Often did the
+little girl wonder where her grandmother had gathered so many stories,
+but she soon learned that. One sunny morning, at the time of the
+swallows' coming, the dame rose up, put on the gray hood and mantle in
+which she carried her yarn to the fairs, and said, "My child, I am going
+a long journey to visit an aunt of mine, who lives far in the north
+country. I cannot take you with me, because my aunt is the crossest
+woman alive, and never liked young people: but the hens will lay eggs
+for you; there is barley-meal in the barrel; and, as you have been a
+good girl, I'll tell you what to do when you feel lonely. Lay your head
+gently down on the cushion of the arm-chair, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, tell me a story.' It was made by a cunning fairy, who lived
+in the forest when I was young, and she gave it to me because she knew
+nobody could keep what they got hold of better. Remember, you must never
+ask a story more than once in the day; and if there be any occasion to
+travel, you have only to seat yourself in it, and say, 'Chair of my
+grandmother, take me such a way.' It will carry you wherever you wish;
+but mind to oil the wheels before you set out, for I have sat on it
+these forty years in that same corner."
+
+Having said this, Dame Frostyface set forth to see her aunt in the north
+country. Snowflower gathered firing and looked after the hens and cat as
+usual. She baked herself a cake or two of the barley-meal; but when the
+evening fell the cottage looked lonely. Then Snowflower remembered her
+grandmother's words, and, laying her head gently down, she said, "Chair
+of my grandmother, tell me a story."
+
+Scarce were the words spoken, when a clear voice from under the velvet
+cushion . . . said: _"Listen to the story of the Christmas Cuckoo!"_
+
+
+"Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the north
+country, a certain village; all its inhabitants were poor, for their
+fields were barren, and they had little trade, but the poorest of them
+all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's
+craft, and had but one stall between them. It was a hut built of clay
+and wattles. The door was low and always open, for there was no window.
+The roof did not entirely keep out the rain, and the only thing
+comfortable about it was a wide hearth, for which the brothers could
+never find wood enough to make a sufficient fire. There they worked in
+most brotherly friendship, though with little encouragement.
+
+"The people of that village were not extravagant in shoes, and better
+cobblers than Scrub and Spare might be found. Spiteful people said there
+were no shoes so bad that they would not be worse for their mending.
+Nevertheless Scrub and Spare managed to live between their own trade, a
+small barley field, and a cottage garden, till one unlucky day when a
+new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in the capital city of
+the kingdom, and, by his own account, cobbled for the queen and the
+princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he set up his stall
+in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon found out that
+one patch of his would wear two of the brothers'. In short, all the
+mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new cobbler. The season
+had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and the cabbages
+never half closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor that winter,
+and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but a barley loaf,
+a piece of rusty bacon, and some small beer of their own brewing. Worse
+than that, the snow was very deep, and they could get no firewood. Their
+hut stood at the end of the village, beyond it spread the bleak moor,
+now all white and silent; but that moor had once been a forest, great
+roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from the soil
+and laid bare by the winds and rains--one of these, a rough gnarled log,
+lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and Spare said to
+his brother:
+
+"'Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?
+Let us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm.'
+
+"'No,' said Scrub; 'it's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,
+that root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet.'
+
+"'Hard or not we must have a fire,' replied Spare. 'Come, brother, help
+me in with it. Poor as we are, there is nobody in the village will have
+such a yule log as ours.'
+
+"Scrub liked a little grandeur, and in hopes of having a fine yule log,
+both brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between
+pulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and
+beginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers. In high glee, the
+cobblers sat down to their beer and bacon. The door was shut, for there
+was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside; but the hut, strewn
+with fir boughs, and ornamented with holly, looked cheerful as the ruddy
+blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.
+
+"'Long life and good fortune to ourselves, brother!' said Spare. 'I hope
+you will drink that toast, and may we never have a worse fire on
+Christmas--but what is that?'
+
+"Spare set down the drinking-horn, and the brothers listened astonished,
+for out of the blazing root they heard, 'Cuckoo! cuckoo!' as plain as
+ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on a May morning.
+
+"'It is something bad,' said Scrub, terribly frightened.
+
+"'May be not,' said Spare; and out of the deep hole at the side which
+the fire had not reached flew a large gray cuckoo, and lit on the table
+before them. Much as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still
+more so when it said:
+
+"'Good gentlemen, what season is this?'
+
+"'It's Christmas,' said Spare.
+
+"'Then a merry Christmas to you!' said the cuckoo. 'I went to sleep in
+the hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till
+the heat of your fire made me think it was summer again; but now since
+you have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring
+comes around--I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my
+travels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your
+trouble.'
+
+"'Stay, and welcome,' said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were
+something bad or not; 'I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch. But
+you must be hungry after that long sleep?--here is a slice of barley
+bread. Come help us to keep Christmas!'
+
+"The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from the brown jug, for he
+would take no beer, and flew into a snug hole which Spare scooped for
+him in the thatch of the hut.
+
+"Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and
+the days passed he forgot his fears. So the snow melted, the heavy rains
+came, the cold grew less, the days lengthened, and one sunny morning the
+brothers were awakened by the cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them
+know the spring had come.
+
+"'Now I'm going on my travels,' said the bird, 'over the world to tell
+men of the spring. There is no country where trees bud or flowers bloom,
+that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me another slice
+of barley bread to keep me on my journey, and tell me what present I
+shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end.'
+
+"Scrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a
+slice, their store of barley-meal being low; but his mind was occupied
+with what present would be most prudent to ask: at length a lucky
+thought struck him.
+
+"'Good master cuckoo,' said he, 'if a great traveler who sees all the
+world like you, could know of any place where diamonds or pearls were to
+be found, one of a tolerable size brought in your beak would help such
+poor men as my brother and I to provide something better than barley
+bread for your next entertainment.'
+
+"'I know nothing of diamonds or pearls,' said the cuckoo; 'they are in
+the hearts of rocks and the sands of rivers. My knowledge is only of
+that which grows on the earth. But there are two trees hard by the well
+that lies at the world's end--one of them is called the golden tree, for
+its leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they fall into the well
+with a sound like scattered coin and I know not what becomes of them. As
+for the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise,
+and some the merry tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one of
+them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make
+themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace.'
+
+"'Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree,' cried Spare.
+
+"'Now, brother, don't be a fool!' said Scrub. 'Think of the leaves of
+beaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!'
+
+"Before another word could be spoken, the cuckoo had flown out of the
+open door, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow. The
+brothers were poorer than ever that year; nobody would send them a
+single shoe to mend. The new cobbler said, in scorn, they should come to
+be his apprentices; and Scrub and Spare would have left the village but
+for their barley field, their cabbage garden, and a certain maid called
+Fairfeather, whom both the cobblers had courted for seven years without
+even knowing which she meant to favor.
+
+"Sometimes Fairfeather seemed inclined to Scrub, sometimes she smiled on
+Spare; but the brothers never disputed for that. They sowed their
+barley, planted their cabbage, and now that their trade was gone, worked
+in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living. So the
+seasons came and passed: spring, summer, harvest, and winter followed
+each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of the
+latter, Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that Fairfeather
+thought them beneath her notice. Old neighbors forgot to invite them to
+wedding feasts or merrymaking; and they thought the cuckoo had forgotten
+them too, when at daybreak, on the first of April, they heard a hard
+beak knocking at their door, and a voice crying:
+
+"'Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents.'
+
+"Spare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo, carrying on one
+side of his bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the north
+country; and in the other, one like that of the common laurel, only it
+had a fresher green.
+
+"'Here,' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, 'it
+is a long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley
+bread, for I must tell the north country that the spring has come.'
+
+"Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut
+from their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands
+before, and he could not help exulting over his brother.
+
+"'See the wisdom of my choice!' he said, holding up the large leaf of
+gold. 'As for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge. I wonder a
+sensible bird would carry the like so far.'
+
+"'Good master cobbler,' cried the cuckoo, finishing the slice, 'your
+conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother be
+disappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for
+your hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of
+you whichever leaf you desire.'
+
+"'Darling cuckoo!' cried Scrub, 'bring me a golden one;' and Spare,
+looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it were a
+crown-jewel, said:
+
+"'Be sure to bring me one from the merry tree,' and away flew the
+cuckoo.
+
+"'This is the Feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday,'
+said Scrub. 'Did ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting
+rich! Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and
+poverty!' So he went on, but Spare laughed at him, and answered with
+quaint old proverbs concerning the cares that come with gold, till
+Scrub, at length getting angry, vowed his brother was not fit to live
+with a respectable man; and, taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden
+leaf, he left the wattle hut, and went to tell the villagers.
+
+"They were astonished at the folly of Spare and charmed with Scrub's
+good sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told
+that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring. The new cobbler
+immediately took him into partnership; the greatest people sent him
+their shoes to mend; Fairfeather smiled graciously upon him, and in the
+course of that summer they were married, with a grand wedding feast, at
+which the whole village danced, except Spare, who was not invited,
+because the bride could not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother
+thought him a disgrace to the family.
+
+"Indeed, all who heard the story concluded that Spare must be mad, and
+nobody would associate with him but a lame tinker, a beggar-boy, and a
+poor woman reputed to be a witch because she was old and ugly. As for
+Scrub, he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close by
+that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to
+everybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat for holidays, and a fat
+goose for dinner every wedding-day. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown
+and fine blue ribands; but neither she nor Scrub were content, for to
+buy this grandeur the golden leaf had to be broken and parted with piece
+by piece, so the last morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with
+another.
+
+"Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage garden. (Scrub
+had got the barley field because he was the eldest.) Every day his coat
+grew more ragged, and the hut more weatherbeaten; but people remarked
+that he never looked sad nor sour; and the wonder was, that from the
+time they began to keep his company, the tinker grew kinder to the poor
+ass with which he traveled the country, the beggar-boy kept out of
+mischief, and the old woman was never cross to her cat or angry with the
+children.
+
+"Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping at their doors with the
+golden leaf to Scrub and the green to Spare. Fairfeather would have
+entertained him nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some
+notion of persuading him to bring two gold leaves instead of one; but
+the cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying he was not
+fit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where he slept so
+snugly from Christmas till spring.
+
+"Scrub spent the golden leaves, and Spare kept the merry ones; and I
+know not how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great
+lord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood
+on the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep
+moat. All the country, as far as one could see from the highest turret,
+belonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and
+would not have come then, only he was melancholy. The cause of his grief
+was that he had been prime-minister at court, and in high favor, till
+somebody told the crown-prince that he had spoken disrespectfully
+concerning the turning out of his royal highness's toes, and the king
+that he did not lay on taxes enough, whereon the north country lord was
+turned out of office, and banished to his own estate. There he lived for
+some weeks in very bad temper. The servants said nothing would please
+him, and the villagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise
+their rents; but one day in the harvest time his lordship chanced to
+meet Spare gathering water cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into
+talk with the cobbler.
+
+"How it was nobody could tell, but from the hour of that discourse the
+great lord cast away his melancholy: he forgot his lost office and his
+court enemies, the king's taxes and the crown-prince's toes, and went
+about with a noble train hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall,
+where all travelers were entertained and all the poor were welcome. This
+strange story spread through the north country, and great company came
+to the cobbler's hut--rich men who had lost their money, poor men who
+had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had gone
+out of fashion, all came to talk with Spare, and whatever their troubles
+had been, all went home merry. The rich gave him presents, the poor gave
+him thanks. Spare's coat ceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his
+cabbage, and the villagers began to think there was some sense in him.
+
+"By this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.
+There were a great many discontented people there besides the king, who
+had lately fallen into ill-humor because a neighboring princess, with
+seven islands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son. So a royal
+messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond ring, and a
+command that he should repair to court immediately.
+
+"'To-morrow is the first of April,' said Spare, 'and I will go with you
+two hours after sunrise.'
+
+"The messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at
+sunrise with the merry leaf.
+
+"'Court is a fine place,' he said when the cobbler told him he was
+going; 'but I cannot come there, they would lay snares and catch me; so
+be careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell
+slice of barley bread."
+
+"Spare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of his
+company; but he gave him a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart
+in former times, it was so thick and large; and having sewed up the
+leaves in the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the
+messenger on his way to court.
+
+"His coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the
+king could see in such a common-looking man; but scarce had his majesty
+conversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands
+were forgotten, and orders given that a feast for all comers should be
+spread in the banquet hall. The princes of the blood, the great lords
+and ladies, ministers of state, and judges of the land, after that
+discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the lighter grew their
+hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at court. The lords
+forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes and
+ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no favor.
+
+"As for Spare, he had a Chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat
+at the king's table; one sent him rich robes and another costly jewels;
+but in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,
+which the palace servants thought remarkably mean. One day the king's
+attention being drawn to it by the chief page, his majesty inquired why
+Spare didn't give it to a beggar. But the cobbler answered:
+
+"'High and mighty monarch, this doublet was with me before silk and
+velvet came--I find it easier to wear than the court cut; moreover, it
+serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days when it was my holiday
+garment.'
+
+"The king thought this a wise speech, and commanded that no one should
+find fault with the leathern doublet. So things went, till tidings of
+his brother's good fortune reached Scrub in the moorland cottage on
+another first of April, when the cuckoo came with two golden leaves,
+because he had none to carry for Spare.
+
+"'Think of that!' said Fairfeather. 'Here we are spending our lives in
+this humdrum place, and Spare making his fortune at court with two or
+three paltry green leaves! What would they say to our golden ones? Let
+us pack up and make our way to the king's palace; I'm sure he will make
+you a lord and me a lady of honor, not to speak of all the fine clothes
+and presents we shall have.'
+
+"Scrub thought this excellent reasoning, and their packing up began: but
+it was soon found that the cottage contained few things fit for carrying
+to court. Fairfeather could not think of her wooden bowls, spoons, and
+trenchers being seen there. Scrub considered his lasts and awls better
+left behind, as without them, he concluded, no one would suspect him of
+being a cobbler. So putting on their holiday clothes, Fairfeather took
+her looking-glass and Scrub his drinking horn, which happened to have a
+very thin rim of silver, and each carrying a golden leaf carefully
+wrapped up that none might see it till they reached the palace, the pair
+set out in great expectation.
+
+"How far Scrub and Fairfeather journeyed I cannot say, but when the sun
+was high and warm at noon, they came into a wood both tired and hungry.
+
+"'If I had known it was so far to court,' said Scrub, 'I would have
+brought the end of that barley loaf which we left in the cupboard.'
+
+"'Husband,' said Fairfeather, 'you shouldn't have such mean thoughts:
+how could one eat barley bread on the way to a palace? Let us rest
+ourselves under this tree, and look at our golden leaves to see if they
+are safe.' In looking at the leaves, and talking of their fine
+prospects, Scrub and Fairfeather did not perceive that a very thin old
+woman had slipped from behind the tree, with a long staff in her hand
+and a great wallet by her side.
+
+"'Noble lord and lady,' she said, 'for I know ye are such by your
+voices, though my eyes are dim and my hearing none of the sharpest, will
+ye condescend to tell me where I may find some water to mix a bottle of
+mead which I carry in my wallet, because it is too strong for me?'
+
+"As the old woman spoke, she pulled out a large wooden bottle such as
+shepherds used in the ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together,
+and having a small wooden cup hanging from its handle.
+
+"'Perhaps ye will do me the favor to taste,' she said. 'It is only made
+of the best honey. I have also cream cheese, and a wheaten loaf here, if
+such honorable persons as you would eat the like.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather became very condescending after this speech. They
+were now sure that there must be some appearance of nobility about them;
+besides, they were very hungry, and having hastily wrapped up the golden
+leaves, they assured the old woman they were not at all proud,
+notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left behind them in the
+north country, and would willingly help to lighten the wallet. The old
+woman could scarcely be persuaded to sit down for pure humility, but at
+length she did, and before the wallet was half empty, Scrub and
+Fairfeather firmly believed that there must be something remarkably
+noble-looking about them. This was not entirely owing to her ingenious
+discourse. The old woman was a wood-witch; her name was Buttertongue;
+and all her time was spent in making mead, which, being boiled with
+curious herbs and spells, had the power of making all who drank it fall
+asleep and dream with their eyes open. She had two dwarfs of sons; one
+was named Spy, and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother went they
+were not far behind; and whoever tasted her mead was sure to be robbed
+by the dwarfs.
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against the old tree. The cobbler had
+a lump of cheese in his hand; his wife held fast a hunk of bread. Their
+eyes and mouths were both open, but they were dreaming of great grandeur
+at court, when the old woman raised her shrill voice--
+
+"'What ho, my sons! come here and carry home the harvest.'
+
+"No sooner had she spoken, than the two little dwarfs darted out of the
+neighboring thicket.
+
+"'Idle boys!' cried the mother, 'what have ye done to-day to help our
+living?'
+
+"'I have been to the city,' said Spy, 'and could see nothing. These are
+hard times for us--everybody minds their business so contentedly since
+that cobbler came; but here is a leathern doublet which his page threw
+out of the window; it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was
+not idle.' And he tossed down Spare's doublet, with the merry leaves in
+it, which he had carried like a bundle on his little back.
+
+"To explain how Spy came by it, I must tell you that the forest was not
+far from the great city where Spare lived in such esteem. All things had
+gone well with the cobbler till the king thought that it was quite
+unbecoming to see such a worthy man without a servant. His majesty,
+therefore, to let all men understand his royal favor toward Spare,
+appointed one of his own pages to wait upon him. The name of this youth
+was Tinseltoes, and, though he was the seventh of the king's pages,
+nobody in all the court had grander notions. Nothing could please him
+that had not gold or silver about it, and his grandmother feared he
+would hang himself for being appointed page to a cobbler. As for Spare,
+if anything could have troubled him, this token of his majesty's
+kindness would have done it.
+
+"The honest man had been so used to serve himself that the page was
+always in the way, but his merry leaves came to his assistance; and, to
+the great surprise of his grandmother, Tinseltoes took wonderfully to
+the new service. Some said it was because Spare gave him nothing to do
+but play at bowls all day on the palace-green. Yet one thing grieved the
+heart of Tinseltoes, and that was his master's leathern doublet, but for
+it he was persuaded people would never remember that Spare had been a
+cobbler, and the page took a great deal of pains to let him see how
+unfashionable it was at court; but Spare answered Tinseltoes as he had
+done the king, and at last, finding nothing better would do, the page
+got up one fine morning earlier than his master, and tossed the leathern
+doublet out of the back window into a certain lane where Spy found it,
+and brought it to his mother.
+
+"'That nasty thing!' said the old woman; 'where is the good in it?'
+
+"By this time, Pounce had taken everything of value from Scrub and
+Fairfeather--the looking-glass, the silver-rimmed horn, the husband's
+scarlet coat, the wife's gay mantle, and, above all, the golden leaves,
+which so rejoiced old Buttertongue and her sons, that they threw the
+leathern doublet over the sleeping cobbler for a jest, and went off to
+their hut in the heart of the forest.
+
+"The sun was going down when Scrub and Fairfeather awoke from dreaming
+that they had been made a lord and a lady, and sat clothed in silk and
+velvet, feasting with the king in his palace-hall. It was a great
+disappointment to find their golden leaves and all their best things
+gone. Scrub tore his hair, and vowed to take the old woman's life, while
+Fairfeather lamented sore; but Scrub, feeling cold for want of his coat,
+put on the leathern doublet without asking or caring whence it came.
+
+"Scarcely was it buttoned on when a change came over him; he addressed
+such merry discourse to Fairfeather, that, instead of lamentations, she
+made the wood ring with laughter. Both busied themselves in getting up a
+hut of boughs, in which Scrub kindled a fire with a flint and steel,
+which, together with his pipe, he had brought unknown to Fairfeather,
+who had told him the like was never heard of at court. Then they found a
+pheasant's nest at the root of an old oak, made a meal of roasted eggs,
+and went to sleep on a heap of long green grass which they had gathered,
+with nightingales singing all night long in the old trees about them. So
+it happened that Scrub and Fairfeather stayed day after day in the
+forest, making their hut larger and more comfortable against the winter,
+living on wild birds' eggs and berries, and never thinking of their lost
+golden leaves, or their journey to court.
+
+"In the meantime Spare had got up and missed his doublet. Tinseltoes, of
+course, said he knew nothing about it. The whole palace was searched,
+and every servant questioned, till all the court wondered why such a
+fuss was made about an old leathern doublet. That very day things came
+back to their old fashion. Quarrels began among the lords, and
+jealousies among the ladies. The king said his subjects did not pay him
+half enough taxes, the queen wanted more jewels, the servants took to
+their old bickerings and got up some new ones. Spare found himself
+getting wonderfully dull, and very much out of place: nobles began to
+ask what business a cobbler had at the king's table, and his majesty
+ordered the palace chronicles to be searched for a precedent. The
+cobbler was too wise to tell all he had lost with that doublet, but
+being by this time somewhat familiar with court customs, he proclaimed a
+reward of fifty gold pieces to any who would bring him news concerning
+it.
+
+"Scarcely was this made known in the city, when the gates and outer
+courts of the palace were filled by men, women, and children, some
+bringing leathern doublets of every cut and color; some with tales of
+what they had heard and seen in their walks about the neighborhood; and
+so much news concerning all sorts of great people came out of these
+stories, that lords and ladies ran to the king with complaints of Spare
+as a speaker of slander; and his majesty, being now satisfied that there
+was no example in all the palace records of such a retainer, issued a
+decree banishing the cobbler for ever from court, and confiscating all
+his goods in favor of Tinseltoes.
+
+"That royal edict was scarcely published before the page was in full
+possession of his rich chamber, his costly garments, and all the
+presents the courtiers had given him; while Spare, having no longer the
+fifty pieces of gold to give, was glad to make his escape out of the
+back window, for fear of the nobles, who vowed to be revenged on him,
+and the crowd, who were prepared to stone him for cheating them about
+his doublet.
+
+"The window from which Spare let himself down with a strong rope, was
+that from which Tinseltoes had tossed the doublet, and as the cobbler
+came down late in the twilight, a poor woodman, with a heavy load of
+fagots, stopped and stared at him in great astonishment.
+
+"'What's the matter, friend?' said Spare. 'Did you never see a man
+coming down from a back window before?'
+
+"'Why,' said the woodman, 'the last morning I passed here a leathern
+doublet came out of that very window, and I'll be bound you are the
+owner of it.'
+
+"'That I am, friend,' said the cobbler. 'Can you tell me which way that
+doublet went?'
+
+"'As I walked on,' said the woodman, 'a dwarf, called Spy, bundled it up
+and ran off to his mother in the forest.'
+
+"'Honest friend,' said Spare, taking off the last of his fine clothes (a
+grass-green mantle edged with gold), I'll give you this if you will
+follow the dwarf, and bring me back my doublet.'
+
+"'It would not be good to carry fagots in,' said the woodman. 'But if
+you want back your doublet, the road to the forest lies at the end of
+this lane,' and he trudged away.
+
+"Determined to find his doublet, and sure that neither crowd nor
+courtiers could catch him in the forest, Spare went on his way, and was
+soon among the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he see.
+Moreover, the night came on; the wood was dark and tangled, but here and
+there the moon shone through its alleys, the great owls flitted about,
+and the nightingales sang. So he went on, hoping to find some place of
+shelter. At last the red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket,
+led him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, as if there was
+nothing to fear, and within he saw his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a
+bed of grass, at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; while
+Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited rushes, sat roasting pheasants'
+eggs by the fire.
+
+"'Good evening, mistress,' said Spare, stepping in.
+
+"The blaze shone on him, but so changed was her brother-in-law with his
+court-life, that Fairfeather did not know him, and she answered far
+more courteously than was her wont.
+
+"'Good evening, master. Whence come ye so late? but speak low, for my
+good man has sorely tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep,
+as you see, before supper!'
+
+"'A good rest to him,' said Spare, perceiving he was not known. 'I come
+from the court for a day's hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.'
+
+"'Sit down and have a share of our supper,' said Fairfeather, 'I will
+put some more eggs in the ashes; and tell me the news of court--I used
+to think of it long ago when I was young and foolish.'
+
+"'Did you never go there?' said the cobbler. 'So fair a dame as you
+would make the ladies marvel.'
+
+"'You are pleased to flatter,' said Fairfeather; 'but my husband has a
+brother there, and we left our moorland village to try our fortune also.
+An old woman enticed us with fair words and strong drink at the entrance
+of this forest, where we fell asleep and dreamt of great things; but
+when we woke, everything had been robbed from us--my looking-glass, my
+scarlet cloak, my husband's Sunday coat; and, in place of all, the
+robbers left him that old leathern doublet, which he has worn ever
+since, and never was so merry in all his life, though we live in this
+poor hut.'
+
+"'It is a shabby doublet, that,' said Spare, taking up the garment, and
+seeing that it was his own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its
+lining. 'It would be good for hunting in, however--your husband would be
+glad to part with it, I dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak;'
+and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned on the doublet, much to
+Fairfeather's delight, who ran and shook Scrub, crying--"'Husband!
+husband! rise and see what a good bargain I have made.'
+
+"Scrub gave one closing snore, and muttered something about the root
+being hard; but he rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother, and said--
+
+"'Spare, is that really you? How did you like the court, and have you
+made your fortune?'
+
+"'That I have, brother,' said Spare, 'in getting back my own good
+leathern doublet. Come, let us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this
+night. In the morning we will return to our own old hut, at the end of
+the moorland village where the Christmas Cuckoo will come and bring us
+leaves.'
+
+"Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the morning they all returned, and
+found the old hut little the worse for wear and weather. The neighbors
+came about them to ask the news of court, and see if they had made their
+fortune. Everybody was astonished to find the three poorer than ever,
+but somehow they liked to go back to the hut. Spare brought out the
+lasts and awls he had hidden in a corner; Scrub and he began their old
+trade, and the whole north country found out that there never were such
+cobblers.
+
+"They mended the shoes of lords and ladies as well as the common people;
+everybody was satisfied. Their custom increased from day to day, and all
+that were disappointed, discontented, or unlucky, came to the hut as in
+old times, before Spare went to court.
+
+"The rich brought them presents, the poor did them service. The hut
+itself changed, no one knew how. Flowering honeysuckle grew over its
+roof; red and white roses grew thick about its door. Moreover, the
+Christmas Cuckoo always came on the first of April, bringing three
+leaves of the merry tree--for Scrub and Fairfeather would have no more
+golden ones. So it was with them when I last heard the news of the north
+country."
+
+[Illustration: THE EMPEROR'S VISION]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 11: By permission from _Granny's Wonderful Chair_, by Frances
+Browne. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE EMPEROR'S VISION[12]
+
+
+IT happened at the time when Augustus was Emperor in Rome and Herod was
+King in Jerusalem.
+
+It was then that a very great and holy night sank down over the earth.
+It was the darkest night that any one had ever seen. One could have
+believed that the whole earth had fallen into a cellar-vault. It was
+impossible to distinguish water from land, and one could not find one's
+way on the most familiar road. And it couldn't be otherwise, for not a
+ray of light came from heaven. All the stars stayed at home in their own
+houses, and the fair moon held her face averted.
+
+The silence and the stillness were as profound as the darkness. The
+rivers stood still in their courses, the wind did not stir, and even the
+aspen leaves had ceased to quiver. Had any one walked along the
+sea-shore, he would have found that the waves no longer dashed upon the
+sands; and had one wandered in the desert, the sand would not have
+crunched under one's feet. Everything was as motionless as if turned to
+stone, so as not to disturb the holy night. The grass was afraid to
+grow, the dew could not fall, and the flowers dared not exhale their
+perfume.
+
+On this night the wild beasts did not seek their prey, the serpents did
+not sting, and the dogs did not bark. And what was even more glorious,
+inanimate things would have been unwilling to disturb the night's
+sanctity, by lending themselves to an evil deed. No false key could have
+picked a lock, and no knife could possibly have drawn a drop of blood.
+
+In Rome, during this very night, a small company of people came from the
+Emperor's palace at the Palatine and took the path across the Forum
+which led to the Capitol. During the day just ended the Senators had
+asked the Emperor if he had any objections to their erecting a temple to
+him on Rome's sacred hill. But Augustus had not immediately given his
+consent. He did not know if it would be agreeable to the gods that he
+should own a temple next to theirs, and he had replied that first he
+wished to ascertain their will in the matter by offering a nocturnal
+sacrifice to his genius. It was he who, accompanied by a few trusted
+friends, was on his way to perform this sacrifice.
+
+Augustus let them carry him in his litter, for he was old, and it was an
+effort for him to climb the long stairs leading to the Capitol. He
+himself held the cage with the doves for the sacrifice. No priests or
+soldiers or senators accompanied him, only his nearest friends.
+Torch-bearers walked in front of him in order to light the way in the
+night darkness and behind him followed the slaves, who carried the
+tripod, the knives, the charcoal, the sacred fire, and all the other
+things needed for the sacrifice.
+
+On the way the Emperor chatted gayly with his faithful followers, and
+therefore none of them noticed the infinite silence and stillness of the
+night. Only when they had reached the highest point of the Capitol Hill
+and the vacant spot upon which they contemplated erecting the temple,
+did it dawn upon them that something unusual was taking place.
+
+It could not be a night like all others, for up on the very edge of the
+cliff they saw the most remarkable being! At first they thought it was
+an old, distorted olive-trunk; later they imagined that an ancient stone
+figure from the temple of Jupiter had wandered out on the cliff. Finally
+it was apparent to them that it could be only the old sibyl.
+
+Anything so aged, so weather-beaten, and so giantlike in stature they
+had never seen. This old woman was awe-inspiring! If the Emperor had not
+been present, they would all have fled to their homes.
+
+"It is she," they whispered to each other, "who has lived as many years
+as there are sand-grains on her native shores. Why has she come out from
+her cave just to-night? What does she foretell for the Emperor and the
+Empire--she, who writes her prophecies on the leaves of the trees and
+knows that the wind will carry the words of the oracle to the person for
+whom they are intended?"
+
+They were so terrified that they would have dropped on their knees with
+their foreheads pressed against the earth, had the sibyl stirred. But
+she sat as still as though she were lifeless. Crouching upon the
+outermost edge of the cliff, and shading her eyes with her hand, she
+peered out into the night. She sat there as if she had gone up on the
+hill that she might see more clearly something that was happening far
+away. _She_ could see things on a night like this!
+
+At that moment the Emperor and all his retinue, marked how profound the
+darkness was. None of them could see a hand's breadth in front of him.
+And what stillness! What silence! Not even the Tiber's hollow murmur
+could they hear. The air seemed to suffocate them, cold sweat broke out
+on their foreheads, and their hands were numb and powerless. They feared
+that some dreadful disaster was impending.
+
+But no one cared to show that he was afraid, and every one told the
+Emperor that this was a good omen. All Nature held its breath to greet a
+new god.
+
+They counseled Augustus to hurry with the sacrifice, and said that the
+old sibyl had evidently come out of her cave to greet his genius.
+
+But the truth was that the old sibyl was so absorbed in a vision that
+she did not even know that Augustus had come up to the Capitol. She was
+transported in spirit to a far-distant land, where she imagined that she
+was wandering over a great plain. In the darkness she stubbed her foot
+continually against something, which she believed to be grass-tufts. She
+stooped down and felt with her hand. No, it was not grass, but sheep.
+She was walking between great sleeping flocks of sheep.
+
+Then she noticed the shepherds' fire. It burned in the middle of the
+field, and she groped her way to it. The shepherds lay asleep by the
+fire, and beside them were the long, spiked staves with which they
+defended their flocks from wild beasts. But the little animals with the
+glittering eyes and the bushy tails that stole up to the fire, were they
+not jackals? And yet the shepherds did not fling their staves at them,
+the dogs continued to sleep, the sheep did not flee, and the wild
+animals lay down to rest beside the human beings.
+
+This the sibyl saw, but she knew nothing of what was being enacted on
+the hill back of her. She did not know that there they were raising an
+altar, lighting charcoal and strewing incense, and that the Emperor took
+one of the doves from the cage to sacrifice it. But his hands were so
+benumbed that he could not hold the bird. With one stroke of the wing,
+it freed itself and disappeared in the night darkness.
+
+When this happened, the courtiers glanced suspiciously at the old sibyl.
+They believed that it was she who caused the misfortune.
+
+Could they know that all the while the sibyl thought herself standing
+beside the shepherds' fire, and that she listened to a faint sound which
+came trembling through the dead-still night? She heard it long before
+she marked that it did not come from earth, but from the sky. At last
+she raised her head; then she saw light, shimmering forms glide forward
+in the darkness. They were little flocks of angels, who, singing
+joyously, and apparently searching, flew back and forth above the wide
+plain.
+
+While the sibyl was listening to the angel-song, the Emperor was making
+preparations for a new sacrifice. He washed his hands, cleansed the
+altar, and took up the other dove. And, although he exerted his full
+strength to hold it fast, the dove's slippery body slid from his hand,
+and the bird swung itself up into the impenetrable night.
+
+The Emperor was appalled! He fell upon his knees and prayed to his
+genius. He implored him for strength to avert the disasters which this
+night seemed to foreshadow.
+
+Nor did the sibyl hear any of this either. She was listening with her
+whole soul to the angel-song, which grew louder and louder. At last it
+became so powerful that it wakened the shepherds. They raised themselves
+on their elbows and saw shining hosts of silver-white angels move in
+the darkness in long swaying lines, like migratory birds. Some held
+lutes and cymbals in their hands; others held zithers and harps, and
+their song rang out as merry as child-laughter, and as carefree as the
+lark's thrill. When the shepherds heard this, they rose up to go to the
+mountain city, where they lived, to tell of the miracle.
+
+They groped their way forward on a narrow, winding path, and the sibyl
+followed them. Suddenly it grew light up there on the mountain: a big,
+clear star kindled right over it, and the city on the mountain summit
+glittered like silver in the starlight. All the fluttering angel throngs
+hastened thither, shouting for joy, and the shepherds hurried so that
+they almost ran. When they reached the city, they found that the angels
+had assembled over a low stable near the city gate. It was a wretched
+structure, with a roof of straw and the naked cliff for a back wall.
+Over it hung the Star, and hither flocked more and more angels. Some
+seated themselves on the straw roof or alighted upon the steep
+mountain-wall back of the house; others, again, held themselves in the
+air on outspread wings, and hovered over it. High, high up, the air was
+illuminated by the shining wings.
+
+The instant the Star kindled over the mountain city, all Nature awoke,
+and the men who stood upon Capitol Hill could not help seeing it. They
+felt fresh, but caressing winds which traveled through space; delicious
+perfumes streamed up about them; trees swayed; the Tiber began to
+murmur; the stars twinkled, and suddenly the moon stood out in the sky
+and lit up the world. And out of the clouds the two doves came circling
+down and lighted upon the Emperor's shoulders.
+
+When this miracle happened, Augustus rose, proud and happy, but his
+friends and his slaves fell on their knees.
+
+"Hail, Caesar!" they cried. "Thy genius hath answered thee. Thou art the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+And this cry of homage, which the men in their transport gave as a
+tribute to the emperor, was so loud that the old sibyl heard it. It
+waked her from her visions. She rose from her place on the edge of the
+cliff, and came down among the people. It was as if a dark cloud had
+arisen from the abyss and rushed down the mountain height. She was
+terrifying in her extreme age! Coarse hair hung in matted tangles around
+her head, her joints were enlarged, and the dark skin, hard as the bark
+of a tree, covered her body with furrow upon furrow.
+
+Potent and awe-inspiring, she advanced toward the Emperor. With one hand
+she clutched his wrist, with the other she pointed toward the distant
+East.
+
+"Look!" she commanded, and the Emperor raised his eyes and saw. The
+vaulted heavens opened before his eyes, and his glance traveled to the
+distant Orient. He saw a lowly stable behind a steep rock wall, and in
+the open doorway a few shepherds kneeling. Within the stable he saw a
+young mother on her knees before a little child, who lay upon a bundle
+of straw on the floor.
+
+And the sibyl's big, knotty fingers pointed toward the poor babe. "Hail,
+Caesar!" cried the sibyl, in a burst of scornful laughter. "There is the
+god who shall be worshiped on Capitol Hill!"
+
+Then Augustus shrank back from her, as from a maniac. But upon the sibyl
+fell the mighty spirit of prophecy. Her dim eyes began to burn, her
+hands were stretched toward heaven, her voice was so changed that it
+seemed not to be her own, but rang out with such resonance and power
+that it could have been heard over the whole world. And she uttered
+words which she appeared to be reading among the stars.
+
+"Upon Capitol Hill shall the Redeemer of the world be
+worshiped--_Christ_--but not frail mortals."
+
+When she had said this, she strode past the terror-stricken men, walked
+slowly down the mountain, and disappeared.
+
+But, on the following day, Augustus strictly forbade the people to raise
+any temple to him on Capitol Hill. In place of it he built a sanctuary
+to the new-born GodChild, and called it HEAVEN'S ALTAR--_Ara Coeli_.
+
+[Illustration: THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 12: By permission from _Christ Legends,_ by Selma Lagerlof.
+Copyright by Henry Holt & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP[13]
+
+IT was the Eve of St. Stephen, and Teig sat alone by his fire with
+naught in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and
+a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water bucket
+outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth--a handful of
+golden cinders left, just; and Teig took to counting them greedily on
+his fingers.
+
+"There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he laughed. "Faith, there
+be more bits o' real gold hid undther the loose clay in the corner."
+
+It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching for the last
+piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare of a Christmas dinner.
+
+"Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if ye have naught to
+give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" and he laughed again.
+
+He was thinking of the neighbors, and the doles of food and piggins of
+milk that would pass over their thresholds that night to the vagabonds
+and paupers who were sure to come begging. And on the heels of that
+thought followed another: who would be giving old Barney his dinner?
+Barney lived a stone's throw from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in
+cabin; and for a score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep
+every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, had called
+across the road:
+
+"Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" And Barney had
+reached for his crutches--there being but one leg to him--and had come.
+
+"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the once;
+'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to thinking of
+the gold again.
+
+A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself down in his chair where
+the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue.
+
+"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there,
+open your door. I have not got the pay for the spriggin' this month, an'
+the childher are needin' food."
+
+But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never stirred till he heard
+the tramp of her feet going on to the next cabin. Then he saw to it that
+the door was tight-barred. Another knock came, and it was a stranger's
+voice this time:
+
+"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will
+ye take us in--the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel
+o' food have we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"
+
+But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers'
+feet passed down the road. Others took their place--small feet, running.
+It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran by:
+
+"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forget-tin' him, will ye,
+Teig?"
+
+And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, as she passed
+down the road:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even.
+    Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                      Mhuire as traugh!
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary.
+    'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!
+
+Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million murdthering curses on
+them that won't let me be! Can't a man try to keep what is his without
+bein' pesthered by them that has only idled an' wasted their days?"
+
+And then a strange thing happened: hundreds and hundreds of wee lights
+began dancing outside the window, making the room bright; the hands of
+the clock began chasing each other round the dial, and the bolt of the
+door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak or a cringe, the door
+opened, and in there trooped a crowd of the Good People. Their wee green
+cloaks were folded close about them, and each carried a rush candle.
+
+Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, when he saw the
+fairies, but when they saw him they laughed.
+
+"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, Teig," said they. "Ye
+are the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."
+
+Without saying more, they bustled about the room making ready. They
+lengthened out the table and spread and set it; more of the Good People
+trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
+and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece a-blowing their
+chanters and trying the drones. The feasting began and the pipers played
+and never had Teig seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man
+sang out:
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" And out of the
+air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig ever laid his two eyes on. The
+wee man clapped it on his head, crying:
+
+"I wish I was in Spain!" and--whist--up the chimney he went, and away
+out of sight.
+
+It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee man called for his cap,
+and away he went after the first. And then another and another until the
+room was empty and Teig sat alone again.
+
+"By my soul," said Teig, "I'd like to thravel that way myself! It's a
+grand savin' of tickets an' baggage; an' ye get to a place before ye've
+had time to change your mind. Faith there is no harm done if I thry it."
+
+So he sang the fairies' rime and out of the air dropped a wee cap for
+him. For a moment the wonder had him, but the next he was clapping the
+cap on his head and crying:
+
+"Spain!"
+
+Then--whist--up the chimney he went after the fairies, and before he had
+time to let out his breath he was standing in the middle of Spain, and
+strangeness all about him.
+
+He was in a great city. The doorways of the houses were hung with
+flowers and the air was warm and sweet with the smell of them. Torches
+burned along the streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their
+wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars.
+
+"What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one of the fairies.
+
+"They are waiting for those that are hearing mass. When they come out,
+they give half of what they have to those that have nothing, so on this
+night of all the year there shall be no hunger and no cold."
+
+And then far down the street came the sound of a child's voice, singing:
+
+    "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen,
+    Mind that ye keep it, this holy even."
+
+"Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?" And then he heard the
+fairies cry "Holland!" and he cried "Holland!" too.
+
+In one leap he was over France, and another over Belgium; and with the
+third he was standing by long ditches of water frozen fast, and over
+them glided hundreds upon hundreds of lads and maids. Outside each door
+stood a wee wooden shoe empty. Teig saw scores of them as he looked down
+the ditch of a street.
+
+"What is the meanin' o' those shoes?" he asked the fairies.
+
+"Ye poor lad!" answered the wee man next to him; "are ye not knowing
+anything? This is the Gift Night of the year, when every man gives to
+his neighbor."
+
+A child came to the window of one of the houses, and in her hand was a
+lighted candle. She was singing as she put the light down close to the
+glass, and Teig caught the words:
+
+    "Open your door an' greet ye the stranger--
+    For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger.
+                                    Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red cap more firmly
+on his head.
+
+"I'm for another country."
+
+I cannot be telling you half the adventures Teig had that night, nor
+half the sights that he saw. But he passed by fields that held sheaves
+of grain for the birds and doorsteps that held bowls of porridge for the
+wee creatures. He saw lighted trees, sparkling and heavy with gifts; and
+he stood outside the churches and watched the crowds pass in, bearing
+gifts to the Holy Mother and Child.
+
+At last the fairies straightened their caps and cried, "Now for the
+great hall in the King of England's palace!"
+
+Whist--and away they went, and Teig after them; and the first thing he
+knew he was in London, not an arm's length from the King's throne. It
+was a grander sight than he had seen in any other country. The hall was
+filled entirely with lords and ladies; and the great doors were open for
+the poor and the homeless to come in and warm themselves by the King's
+fire and feast from the King's table. And many a hungry soul did the
+King serve with his own hands.
+
+Those that had anything to give gave it in return. It might be a bit of
+music played on a harp or a pipe, or it might be a dance or a song; but
+more often it was a wish, just, for good luck and safekeeping.
+
+Teig was so taken up with the watching that he never heard the fairies
+when they wished themselves off; moreover, he never saw the wee girl
+that was fed, and went laughing away. But he heard a bit of her song as
+she passed through the door:
+
+    "Feed ye the hungry an' rest ye the weary,
+    This ye must do for the sake of Our Mary."
+
+Then the anger had Teig. "I'll stop your pestherin' tongue, once an' for
+all time!" and, catching the cap from his head, he threw it after her.
+
+No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the hall saw him. The next
+moment they were about him, catching at his coat and crying:
+
+"Where is he from, what does he here? Bring him before the King!" And
+Teig was dragged along by a hundred hands to the throne where the King
+sat.
+
+"He was stealing food," cried one.
+
+"He was robbing the King's jewels," cried another.
+
+"He looks evil," cried a third. "Kill him!"
+
+And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall rang with: "Aye,
+kill him, kill him!"
+
+Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash on his tongue; but
+after a long silence he managed to whisper:
+
+"I have done evil to no one--no one!"
+
+"Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? Come, tell us, have ye
+given aught to any one this night? If ye have, we will pardon ye."
+
+Not a word could Teig say--fear tightened the leash --for he was knowing
+full well there was no good to him that night.
+
+"Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try hanging or beheading?"
+
+"Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig.
+
+The guards came rushing up and carried him off. But as he was crossing
+the threshold of the hall a thought sprang at him and held him.
+
+"Your Majesty," he called after him, "will ye grant me a last request?"
+
+"I will," said the King.
+
+"Thank ye. There's a wee red cap that I'm mortal fond of, and I lost it
+a while ago; if I could be hung with it on, I would hang a deal more
+comfortable."
+
+The cap was found and brought to Teig.
+
+"Clip, clap, clip, clap, for my wee red cap, I wish I was home," he
+sang.
+
+Up and over the heads of the dumfounded guard he flew, and--whist--and
+away out of sight. When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting close
+by his own hearth, with the fire burnt low. The hands of the clock were
+still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door. The fairies' lights were
+gone, and the only bright thing was the candle burning in old Barney's
+cabin across the road.
+
+A running of feet sounded outside, and then the snatch of a song:
+
+    "'Tis well that ye mind--ye who sit by the fire--
+    That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre.
+                                  Mhuire as traugh!"
+
+"Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to the corner, digging fast
+at the loose clay, as a terrier digs at a bone. He filled his hands full
+of the shining gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.
+
+The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him out of the darkness.
+
+"Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? And take the rest to
+the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable an'
+dhrinkable; and to the neighbors ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this
+night.' Hurry now!"
+
+Teig stopped a moment on the threshold until the tramp of her feet had
+died away; then he made a hollow of his two hands and called across the
+road:
+
+"Hey there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?"
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 13: By permission from _This Way to Christmas,_ by Ruth Sawyer
+Durand. Harper & Brothers.
+
+Also in _The Children's Book of Christmas Stories;_ ed. by A. D.
+Dickinson and A. M. Skinner. Doubleday, Page.]
+
+
+
+
+GREEK LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE CURSE OF ECHO]
+
+
+
+
+THE CURSE OF ECHO[14]
+
+
+IN the flowery groves of Helicon, Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand
+in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the side
+of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the lightest and
+her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not one of them
+could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting mischief in
+their hearts, they would say to her:
+
+"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower,
+and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See
+thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to twine
+in thy hair."
+
+And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove.
+
+"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked.
+
+"When that time comes we shall see," said they.
+
+So with another laugh she would trip away and cast herself on the grass
+at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would relax,
+and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair.
+
+"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask.
+
+"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would answer,
+"and I have a tale--a wondrous new tale--to tell thee."
+
+"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one of
+them as long as an old man's beard."
+
+"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have
+told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of
+the one I shall tell thee now."
+
+"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the
+end."
+
+So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes fixed
+upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of words, and,
+moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which she alone
+could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding to them as
+best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best of
+tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their lies
+some grains of truth which they have picked from their own experience.
+And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, and listen
+entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene live before
+her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their hearts' content and
+never fear her anger.
+
+But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the
+prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her wrath
+flashed forth like lightning.
+
+"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she
+cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till some one else has spoken,
+and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must
+needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken."
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus.
+
+"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she
+longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass that
+she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in her
+mouth, whether she wished it or no.
+
+Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his
+companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only wandered
+further, and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. He was
+now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a flower in
+spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed for him.
+But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his heart was hard
+as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, they could kindle
+no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn them, and treat
+them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. When he was born,
+the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning him:
+
+"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy."
+
+And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor woman,
+but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that all who
+saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get from them what
+he would. But he himself knew naught of love, and therefore but little
+of grief; for love at the best brings joy and sorrow hand in hand, and
+if unreturned, it brings naught but pain.
+
+Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods,
+they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he
+went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and would not
+show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should
+not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last,
+when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one
+of his companions.
+
+"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried.
+
+"Where art thou?" answered Echo.
+
+When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear
+nothing more. Then he called again.
+
+"I am here in the wood--Narcissus."
+
+"In the wood--Narcissus," said she.
+
+"Come hither," he cried.
+
+"Come hither," she answered.
+
+Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all about,
+but could see no one.
+
+"Art thou close at hand?" he asked.
+
+"Close at hand," answered Echo.
+
+Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction of
+the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled further,
+so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But wherever
+she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he would not let
+her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had to answer, and
+so show him her hiding-place. By now they had come to an open space in
+the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a clear pool in the
+hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, with her back to the
+tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came out from the trees she
+wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped from her eyes; for she loved
+him, and longed to speak to him, and yet she could not say a word. When
+he saw her he stopped.
+
+"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked.
+
+"Who calls me?" she answered.
+
+"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said.
+
+"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him.
+
+"Who art thou?" he asked.
+
+"Who art thou?" said she.
+
+"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?"
+
+"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands beseechingly.
+
+"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?"
+
+"Why dost thou call me?" said she.
+
+At this he grew angry.
+
+"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty dance through the
+woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me."
+
+"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she.
+
+At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word
+of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired out
+with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass by the
+pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a time she
+stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and explain, but
+never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery she left him, and
+went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a while, when his
+anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered he was very
+thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool beside him, he
+bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out his hand to take
+the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which was the fairest
+face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never yet had known
+what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in the pool. With a
+sigh he held out both his arms toward it, and the figure also held out
+two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered back his sigh. When he
+saw the figure stretching out towards him and heard the sigh, he thought
+that his love was returned, and he bent down closer to the water and
+whispered, "I love thee."
+
+"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock.
+
+At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in
+his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool
+was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to
+his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been
+over-hasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again
+as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once
+again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it fled
+from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same thing
+happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking down into
+the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the figure in
+the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of longing and
+despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the flame of love
+burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no more, but
+determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for the last time
+he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he was clasping the
+empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the pool, thinking that
+in the depths, at any rate, he would find his love. But he found naught
+but death among the weeds and stones of the pool, and knew not that it
+was his own face he loved reflected in the water below him. Thus were
+the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So long as he sees not himself he
+shall live and be happy."
+
+Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when
+Narcissus cast himself into the pool she rushed forward, all too late,
+to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast herself on
+the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and her bones
+wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained and the
+curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless voice
+haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has seen
+since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of him
+beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But her
+voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that no one
+was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if once the
+curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be:
+
+"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back--come back to me!"
+
+By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had watered
+with her tears, there sprang up a sweet-scented flower, with a pure
+white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land men call
+that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his own fair
+face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon.
+
+[Illustration: HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 14: From _Children of the Dawn,_ by Elsie Finnimore Buckley.
+Stokes, London.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE ASS BECAME A MAN AGAIN[15]
+
+
+ONCE upon a time there lived a young man who would do nothing from
+morning till night but amuse himself. His parents were dead and had left
+him plenty of money, but this was fast vanishing, and his friends shook
+their heads sadly, for when the money was gone they did not see where
+more was to come from. It was not that Apuleius (for that was the name
+of the youth) was stupid. He might have been a good soldier, or a
+scholar, or a worker in gold, if so it had pleased him, but from a child
+he had refused to do anything useful, and roamed about the city all day
+long in search of adventures. The only kind of learning to which he paid
+any heed was magic, and when he was in the house he would spend hours
+poring over great books of spells.
+
+Fond though he was of sorcery, he was too lazy to leave the town and its
+pleasures--the chariot-racing, the theater, and the wrestling, and to
+travel in search of the wizards who were renowned for their skill in the
+art. However, the time came when, very unwillingly, he was forced to
+take a journey into Thessaly, to see to the proper working of some
+silver mines in which he had a share, and Thessaly, as everybody knows,
+is the home of all magic. So when Apuleius arrived at the town of
+Hypata, where dwelt the man Milo, overseer of his mines, he was prepared
+to believe that all he saw was enchanted.
+
+Now, if Thessaly is the country of magic, it is also the country of
+robbers, and Apuleius soon noticed that everybody he met was in fear of
+them. Indeed, they made this fear the excuse for all sorts of mean and
+foolish ways. For instance, Milo, who loved money and could not bear to
+spend a farthing, refused to have any seats in his house that could be
+removed, and in consequence there was nothing to sit upon except two
+marble chairs fixed to the wall. As there was only room in these for one
+person, the wife of Milo had to retire to her own chamber when the young
+man entered.
+
+"It was no use," explained Milo, "in laying out money on moveable seats,
+with robbers about. They would be sure to hear of it and to break into
+the house."
+
+Unlike his guest, Milo was always occupied in adding to his wealth in
+one form or another. Sometimes he sent down a train of mules to the
+sea, and bought merchandise which the ships had carried from Babylon or
+Egypt, to sell it again at a high price. Then he dealt in sheep and
+cattle, and when he thought he might do so with safety made false
+returns of the silver that was dug up from the mines, and kept the
+difference for himself. But most often he lent large sums at high
+interest to the young men of the neighborhood, and so cunning was he
+that, whoever else might be ruined, Milo managed to make large profits.
+
+Apuleius knew very well that his steward was in his way as great a
+robber as any in Thessaly, but, as usual, he found it too much trouble
+to look into the matter. So he laughed and jested with the miser, and
+next morning went out to the public baths and then took a stroll through
+the city. It was full of statues of the famous men to whom Hypata had
+given birth; but as Apuleius had made up his mind that nothing in
+Thessaly _could_ be what it seemed, he supposed that they were living
+people who had fallen under enchantment, and that the oxen whom he met
+driven through the streets had once been men and women.
+
+One evening he was returning as usual from a walk when he saw from afar
+three figures before Milo's house, whom he at once guessed were trying
+to force an entrance.
+
+"Here is an adventure at last," thought he, and, keeping in the shadow,
+he stole softly up behind them, and drawing his short sword he stabbed
+each one to the heart. Then, without waiting to see what more would
+befall, he left them where they were and entered the house by a door at
+the back.
+
+He said nothing of what had happened to Milo his host, but the next day,
+before he had left his bed, a summons was brought him by one of the
+slaves to appear before the court at noon on a charge of murder. As has
+been seen, Apuleius was a brave man and did not fear to face three times
+his number, but his heart quailed at the thought of a public trial.
+Still, he was wise enough to know that there was no help for it, and at
+the hour appointed he was in his place.
+
+The first witnesses against him were two women with black veils covering
+them from head to foot. At the sound of the herald's trumpet, one of the
+two stepped forward and accused him of compassing the death of her
+husband. When she had ended her plaint the herald blew another blast,
+and another veiled woman came forward and charged him with her son's
+murder. Then the herald inquired if there was not yet a third victim,
+but was answered that his wound was slight, and that he was able to roam
+through the city.
+
+After the witnesses had been called, the judge pronounced sentence.
+Apuleius the murderer was condemned to death, but he must first of all
+be tortured, so that he might reveal the names of the men who had
+abetted him. By order of the court, horrible instruments were brought
+forward which chilled the blood of Apuleius in his veins. But to his
+surprise, when he looked round to see if none would be his friend, he
+noticed that every one, from the judge to the herald, was shaking with
+laughter. His amazement was increased when with a trembling voice one of
+the women demanded that the bodies should be produced, so that the judge
+might be induced to feel more pity and to order more tortures. The judge
+assented to this, and two bodies were carried into court shrouded in
+wrappings, and the order was given that Apuleius himself should remove
+the wrappings.
+
+The face of the young man grew white as he heard the words of the judge,
+for even a hardened criminal cares but little to touch the corpse of a
+man whom he has murdered. But he dared not disobey, and walked slowly to
+the place where the dead bodies lay. He shrank for a moment as he took
+the cloth in his hands, but his guards were behind him, and calling up
+all his courage, he withdrew it. A shout of laughter pealed out behind
+him, and to his amazement he saw that his victims of the previous night
+had been three huge leather bottles and not men at all!
+
+As soon as Apuleius found out the trick that had been played on him he
+was no less amused than the rest, but in the midst of his mirth a sudden
+thought struck him.
+
+"How was it you managed to make them alive?" asked he, "for alive they
+were, and battering themselves against the door of the house."
+
+"Oh, that is simple enough when one has a sorceress for a mistress,"
+answered a damsel, who was standing by. "She burned the hairs of some
+goats and wove spells over them, so that the animals to whom the hairs
+and skins had once belonged became endowed with life and tried to enter
+their former dwelling."
+
+"They may well say that Thessaly is the home of wonders," cried the
+young man. "But do you think that your mistress would let me see her at
+work? I would pay her well--and you also," he added.
+
+"It might be managed perhaps, without her knowledge," answered Fotis,
+for such was the girl's name; "but you must hold yourself in readiness
+after nightfall, for I cannot tell what evening she may choose to cast
+off her own shape."
+
+Apuleius promised readily that he would not stir out after sunset, and
+the damsel went her way.
+
+That very evening, Hesperus had scarcely risen from his bed when Fotis
+knocked at the door of the house.
+
+"Come hither, and quickly," she said; and without stopping to question
+her Apuleius hastened by her side to the dwelling of the witch Pamphile.
+Entering softly, they crept along a dark passage, where they could peep
+through a crack in the wall and see Pamphile at work. She was in the act
+of rubbing her body with essences from a long row of bottles which stood
+in a cupboard in the wall, chanting to herself spells as she did so.
+Slowly, feathers began to sprout from her head to her feet. Her arms
+vanished, her nails became claws, her eyes grew round and her nose
+hooked, and a little brown owl flew out of the window.
+
+"Well, are you satisfied?" asked Fotis, but Apuleius shook his head.
+
+"Not yet," he answered. "I want to know how she transforms herself into
+a woman again."
+
+"That is quite easy, you may be sure," replied Fotis. "My mistress
+never runs any risks. A cup of water from a spring, with some laurel
+leaves and anise floating in it, is all that she needs. I have seen her
+do it a thousand times."
+
+"Turn me into a nightingale, then, and I will give you five hundred
+sesterces," cried Apuleius eagerly; and Fotis, tempted by the thought of
+so much money, agreed to do what he wished.
+
+But either Fotis was not so skilful as she thought herself, or in her
+hurry she neglected to observe that the bird bottles were all on one
+shelf, and the beast bottles on another, for when she had rubbed the
+ointment over the young man's chest something fearful happened. Instead
+of his arms disappearing, they stretched downwards; his back became
+bent, his face long and narrow, while a browny-gray fur covered his
+body. Apuleius had been changed, not into a nightingale, but into an
+ass!
+
+A loud scream broke from Fotis when she saw what she had done, and
+Apuleius, glancing at a polished mirror from Corinth which hung on the
+walls, beheld with horror the fate that had overtaken him.
+
+"Quick, quick! fetch the water, and I will seek for the laurels and
+anise," he cried. "I do not want to be an ass at all; my arms and back
+are aching already, and if I am not swiftly restored to my own shape I
+shall not be able to overthrow the champion in the wrestling match
+to-morrow."
+
+So Fotis ran out to draw the water from the spring, while Apuleius
+opened some boxes with his teeth, and soon found the anise and laurels.
+But alas! Fotis had deceived herself. The charm which was meant for a
+bird would not work with a beast, and, what was worse, when Apuleius
+tried to speak to her and beg her to try something else, he found he
+could only bray!
+
+In despair the girl took down the book of spells, and began to turn over
+the pages; while the ass, who was still a man in all but his outward
+form, glanced eagerly down them also. At length he gave a loud bray of
+satisfaction, and rubbed his nose on a part of the long scroll.
+
+"Of course, I remember now," cried Fotis with delight. "What a comfort
+that nothing more is needed to restore you to your proper shape than a
+handful of rose leaves!"
+
+The mind of Apuleius was now quite easy, but his spirits fell again when
+Fotis reminded him that he could no longer expect to be received by his
+friends, but must lie in the stable of Milo, with his own horse, and be
+tended, if he was tended at all, by his own servant.
+
+"However, it will not be for long," she added consolingly. "In the
+corner of the stable is a little shrine to the goddess of horses, and
+every day fresh roses are placed before it. Before the sun sets
+to-morrow you will be yourself again."
+
+Slowly and shyly Apuleius slunk along lonely paths till he came to the
+stable of Milo. The door was open, but, as he entered, his horse, who
+was fastened with a sliding cord, kicked wildly at him, and caught him
+right on the shoulder. But before the horse could deal another blow
+Apuleius had sprung hastily on one side, and had hidden himself in a
+dark corner, where he slept soundly.
+
+The moon was shining brightly when he awoke, and looking round, he saw,
+as Fotis had told him, the shrine of Hippone, with a branch of
+sweet-smelling pink roses lying before it. It was rather high up, he
+thought, but, when he reared himself on his hind legs, he would surely
+be tall enough to reach it. So up he got, and trod softly over the
+straw, till he drew near the shrine, when with a violent effort he threw
+up his forelegs into the air. Yes! it was all right, his nose was quite
+near the roses; but just as he opened his mouth his balance gave way,
+and his front feet came heavily on the floor.
+
+The noise brought the man, who was sleeping in another part of the
+stable.
+
+"Oh, I see what you are at, you ugly beast," cried he; "would you eat
+roses that I put there for the goddess? I don't know who may be your
+master, or how you got here, but I will take care that you do no more
+mischief." So saying, he struck the ass several times with his fists,
+and then, putting a rope round his neck, tied him up in another part of
+the stable.
+
+Now it happened that an hour or two later some of the most desperate
+robbers in all Thessaly broke into the house of Milo, and, unheard by
+any one, took all the bags of money that the miser had concealed under
+some loose stones in his cellar. It was clear that they could not carry
+away such heavy plunder without risk of the crime being discovered, but
+they managed to get it quietly as far as the stable, where they gave the
+horse some apples to put it in a good temper, while they thrust a turnip
+into the mouth of Apuleius, who did not like it at all. Then they led
+out both the animals, and placed the sacks of money on their backs,
+after which they all set out for the robbers' cave in the side of the
+mountain. As this, however, was some distance off, it took them many
+hours to reach it, and on the way they passed through a large deserted
+garden, where rose bushes of all sorts grew like weeds. The pulse of
+Apuleius bounded at the sight, and he had already stretched out his nose
+towards them, when he suddenly remembered that if he should turn into a
+man in his present company he would probably be murdered by the robbers.
+With a great effort, he left the roses alone, and tramped steadily on
+his way.
+
+It were long indeed to tell the adventures of Apuleius and the number of
+masters whom he served. After some time he was captured by a soldier,
+and by him sold to two brothers, one a cook and the other a maker of
+pastry, who were attached to the service of a rich man who lived in the
+country. This man did not allow any of his slaves to dwell in his house,
+except those who attended on him personally, and these two brothers
+lived in a tent on the other side of the garden, and the ass was given
+to them to send to and fro with savory dishes in his panniers.
+
+The cook and his brother were both careful men, and always had a great
+store of pastry and sweet things on their shelves, so that none might be
+lacking if their lord should command them. When they had done their work
+they placed water and food for their donkey in a little shed which
+opened on to the tent, then, fastening the door so that no one could
+enter, they went out to enjoy the evening air.
+
+On their return, it struck them that the tent looked unusually bare, and
+at length they perceived that this was because every morsel of pastry
+and sweets on the shelves had disappeared, and nothing was left of them,
+not so much as a crumb. There was no room for a thief to hide, so the
+two brothers supposed that, impossible it seemed, he must not only have
+got _in_ but _out_ by the door, and, as their master might send for a
+tray of cakes at any moment, there was no help for it but to make a
+fresh supply. And so they did, and it took them more than half the night
+to do it.
+
+The next evening the same thing happened again; and the next, and the
+next, and the next.
+
+Then, by accident, the cook went into the shed where the ass lay, and
+discovered a heap of corn and hay that reached nearly to the roof.
+
+"Ah, you rascal!" he exclaimed, bursting out laughing as he spoke. "So
+it is you who have cost us our sleep! Well, well, I dare say I should
+have done the same myself, for cakes and sweets are certainly nicer than
+corn and hay." And the donkey brayed in answer, and winked an eye at
+him, and, more amused than before, the man went away to tell his
+brother.
+
+Of course it was not long before the story reached the ears of their
+master, who instantly sent to buy the donkey, and bade one of his
+servants, who had a taste for such things, teach him fresh tricks. This
+the man was ready enough to do, for the fame of this wonderful creature
+soon spread far and wide, and the citizens of the town thronged the
+doors of his stable. And while the servant reaped much gold by making
+the ass display his accomplishments, the master gained many friends
+among the people, and was soon made chief ruler.
+
+For five years Apuleius stayed in the house of Thyasus, and ate as many
+sweet cakes as he chose; and if he wanted more than were given him he
+wandered down to the tent of his old masters, and swept the shelves bare
+as of yore. At the end of the five years Thyasus proclaimed that a great
+feast would be held in his garden, after which plays would be acted, and
+in one of them his donkey should appear.
+
+Now, though Apuleius loved eating and drinking, he was not at all fond
+of doing tricks in public, and as the day drew near he grew more and
+more resolved that he would take no part in the entertainment. So one
+warm moonlight night he stole out of his stable, and galloped as fast as
+he could for ten miles, when he reached the sea. He was hot and tired
+with his long run, and the sea looked cool and pleasant.
+
+"It is years since I have had a bath," thought he, "or wetted anything
+but my feet. I will take one now; it will make me feel like a man
+again"; and into the water he went, and splashed about with
+joy, which would much have surprised any one who had seen him, for asses
+do not in general care about washing.
+
+When he came back to dry land once more, he shook himself all over, and
+held his head first on one side and then on the other, so that the water
+might run out of his long ears. After that he felt quite comfortable,
+and lay down to sleep under a tree.
+
+He was awakened some hours later by the sound of voices singing a hymn,
+and, raising his head, he saw a vast crowd of people trooping down to
+the shore to hold the festival of their goddess, and in their midst
+walked the high priest crowned with a wreath of roses.
+
+At this sight hope was born afresh in the heart of Apuleius. It was long
+indeed since he had beheld any roses, for Thyasus fancied they made him
+ill, and would not suffer any one to grow them in the city. So he drew
+near to the priest as he passed by, and gazed at him so wistfully that,
+moved by some sudden impulse, the pontiff lifted the wreath from his
+head, and held it out to him, while the people drew to one side,
+feeling that something was happening which they did not understand.
+
+Scarcely had Apuleius swallowed one of the roses, when the ass's skin
+fell from him, his back straightened itself, and his face once more
+became fair and rosy. Then he turned and joined in the hymn, and there
+was not a man among them all with a sweeter voice or more thankful
+spirit than that of Apuleius.
+
+[Illustration: HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 15: Reprinted by permission from _The Red Book of Romance_.
+Edited by Andrew Lang. Longmans, Green & Company.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE[16]
+
+
+This story is part of a longer one called "Alexander the Son of Philip."
+Alexander, a little bootblack living in modern Athens, is befriended by
+a blind old schoolmaster, Kyr Themistocli, to whom he promises to come
+each day and read the daily newspaper. For this service the little
+"Aleko" is to be helped with his lessons. By way of getting acquainted
+the old man asks, "Tell me, now, what do they call you?"
+
+"They call me Aleko."
+
+"From where?"
+
+"My mother lives in Megaloupolis, and I was born there and the little
+ones, but my father was not from there."
+
+Kyr Themistocli noticed the past tense.
+
+"He is dead, your father?"
+
+"Yes, it is two years ago that he died."
+
+"And from where was he?"
+
+"From Siatista."
+
+"Ah, a Macedonian! And what was his name?"
+
+"Philippos Vasiliou."
+
+"So your name is Alexandros Vasiliou?"
+
+Aleko nodded.
+
+"Alexander of the King! Alexander the son of Philip! Your master has
+taught you about him at school?"
+
+"Of course," said Aleko, frowning.
+
+     The old man smiled. There is a story about him which you have not
+     heard perhaps. Do you know how _Alexander the King got the Water of
+     Life?_"
+
+     Aleko shook his head: "We have not reached such a part."
+
+     "Well, I will tell you about it.  Listen:--
+
+"WHEN Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
+and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before him
+the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:
+
+"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of Fate,
+tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this world
+which I have made mine?'
+
+"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is written
+in the Book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on Earth can
+efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy thy kingdom
+and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee endure as long
+as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'
+
+"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be hard,
+I asked only what it was.'
+
+"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know then that he alone who
+drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
+water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
+and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed to
+death. The bones lie in high piles, of the king's sons who have lost
+their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass safely
+through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond them a
+sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must thou slay
+before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'
+
+"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring forth
+his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The king
+mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
+triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
+only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
+rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
+dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.
+
+"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
+deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened that
+his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And some
+of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to this day,
+wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke, he stretched out
+his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and found naught; and in
+his rage he would have killed the slaves who guarded his sleep, but his
+sister being of royal blood, could not hide the truth, and she told him
+that, not knowing she had thrown the Water of Life away.
+
+"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon his
+sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be turned into
+a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land and habitation
+of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens that to this day
+those who sail over the open sea in ships often see Alexander's sister,
+half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves. Strange to say, she
+does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes close to her she cries
+out: 'Does Alexander live?'
+
+"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer, 'He
+is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms and her
+long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and sinks the
+ship. But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind,
+'Does Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and
+reigns,' then the maid's heart is joyful and she sings sweet songs till
+the ship is out of sight.
+
+"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when they
+return to land."
+
+When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then said
+slowly:
+
+"That is not true--but I like it."
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 16: By permission from _Under Greek Skies,_ by Julia
+Dragoumis. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
+
+
+
+AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
+
+[Illustration: THE FIRST CORN]
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CORN[17]
+
+
+A LONG time ago there lived in a Pawnee village a young man who was a
+great gambler. Every day he played at sticks, and he was almost always
+unlucky. Sometimes he would lose everything that he had, and would even
+lose things belonging to his father. His father had often scolded him
+about gambling, and had told him that he ought to stop it. There were
+two things that he never staked; these two things were his shield and
+his lance.
+
+One day he played sticks for a long time, and when he got through he had
+lost everything that he had except these two things. When he went home
+at night to his father's lodge he told his relations what he had done,
+and his father said to him:
+
+"My son, for a long time you have been doing this, and I have many times
+spoken to you about it. Now I have done. I cannot have you here any
+longer. You cannot live here in my lodge or in this village. You must go
+away."
+
+The young man thought about it for a little while and then he said:
+
+"Well, I will go. It does not make much difference where I am." So he
+took his shield and his spear and went out of the lodge and started to
+go away from the village. When he got outside of the village and had
+gone some distance, he heard behind him a loud rushing sound like a
+strong wind--the sound kept getting nearer and louder--and all at once
+it was above him, and then the sound stopped, and something spoke to him
+and said:
+
+"Well, I am here. I have come to find you. I have been sent, and am here
+on purpose to get you and take you with me." The voice that spoke to him
+was the Wind.
+
+The Wind took the young man up and carried him away towards the west.
+They traveled many days, and passed over broad prairies and then across
+high mountains and then over high, wide plains and over other mountains
+until they came to the end of the world, where the sky bends down and
+touches the ground. The last thing the young man saw was the gate
+through the edge of the sky. A great buffalo bull stands in this gateway
+and blocks it up. He had to move to one side to let the Wind and the
+young man pass through. Every year one hair drops from the hide of this
+bull. When all have fallen the end of the world will come.
+
+After they had passed through this gate they went on, and it seemed as
+if they were passing over a big water. There was nothing to be seen
+except the sky and the water. At last they came to a land. Here were
+many people--great crowds of them. The Wind told the young man:
+
+"These are all waiters on the Father."
+
+They went on, and at last came to the Father's lodge and went in. When
+they had sat down the Father spoke to the young man and said to him:
+
+"My son, I have known you for a long time, and have watched you. I
+wanted to see you, and that is why I gave you bad luck at the sticks,
+and why I sent my Wind to bring you here. Your people are very hungry
+now because they can find no buffalo, but I am going to give you
+something on which you can live, even when the buffalo fail."
+
+Then he gave him three little sacks. The first contained squash seed;
+the second beans, red and white; and the third corn, white, red, blue
+and yellow. The Father said:
+
+"Tie these sacks to your shield and do not lose them. When you get back
+to your people give each one some of the seeds and tell him to put them
+in the ground; then they will make more. These things are good to eat,
+but the first year do not let the people eat them; let them put the
+yield away and the next year again put it in the ground. After that they
+can eat a part of what grows, but they must always save some for seed.
+So the people will always have something to eat with their buffalo meat,
+and something to depend on if the buffalo fail." The Father gave him
+also a buffalo robe, and said to him:
+
+"When you go back, the next day after you have got there, call all the
+people together in your lodge, and give them what is in this robe, and
+tell them all these things. Now you can go back to your people."
+
+The Wind took the young man back. They traveled a long time, and at last
+they came to the Pawnee village. The Wind put the young man down, and he
+went into his father's lodge and said:
+
+"Father, I am here." But his father did not believe him, and said:
+
+"It is not you." He had been gone so long that they had thought him
+dead. Then he said to his mother:
+
+"Mother, I am here." And his mother knew him and was glad that he had
+returned.
+
+At this time the people had no buffalo. They had scouted far and near
+and could find none anywhere, and they were all very hungry. The little
+children cried with hunger. The next day after he got back, the young
+man sent out an old man to go through the camp and call all the people
+to come to his father's lodge. When they were there, he opened his robe
+and spread it out, and it was covered with pieces of fat buffalo meat
+piled high. The young man gave to each person all he could carry, but
+while he was handing out the pieces, his father was trying to pull off
+the robe the hind-quarters of the buffalo and hide them. He was afraid
+that the young man might give away all the meat, and he wanted to save
+this for their own lodge. But the young man said:
+
+"Father, do not take this away. Do not touch anything. There is enough."
+
+After he had given them the meat he showed them the sacks of seed and
+told them what they were for, and explained to them that they must not
+eat any the first year, but that they must always save some to plant,
+and the people listened. Then he said to them:
+
+"I hear that you have no buffalo. Come out to-morrow and I will show you
+where to go for buffalo." The People wondered where this could be, for
+they had traveled far in all directions looking for buffalo. The next
+day they went out as he had told them, and the young man sent two boys
+to the top of a high hill close to camp, and told them to let him know
+what they saw from it. When the boys got to the top of the hill, they
+saw down below them in the hollow a big band of buffalo.
+
+When the people learned that the buffalo were there, they all took their
+arrows and ran out and chased the buffalo and made a big killing, so
+that there was plenty in the camp and they made much dried meat. Four
+days after this he again sent out the boys, and they found buffalo. Now
+that they had plenty of meat they stayed in one place, and when spring
+came the young man put the seed in the ground. When the people first saw
+these strange plants growing they wondered at them, for they were new
+and different from anything that they had ever seen growing on the
+prairie. They liked the color of the young stalks, and the way they
+tasseled out, and the way the ears formed. They found that besides being
+pretty to look at they were good to eat, for when the young man had
+gathered the crop he gave the people a little to taste, so that they
+might know the words that he had spoken were true. The rest he kept for
+seed. Next season he gave all the people seed to plant, and after that
+they always had these things.
+
+Later, this young man became one of the head men, and taught the people
+many things. He told them that always when they killed buffalo they must
+bring the fattest and offer them to the Father. He taught them about the
+sacred bundles, and told them that they must put an ear of corn on the
+bundles and must keep a piece of fat in the bundles along with the corn,
+and that both must be kept out of sight. In the fall they should take
+the ear of corn out of the bundles and rub the piece of fat over it.
+Thus they would have good crops and plenty of food.
+
+All these things the people did, and it was a help to them in their
+living.
+
+[Illustration: WAUKEWA'S EAGLE]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 17: By special permission from _The Punishment of the Stingy,_
+by George Bird Grinnell. Copyright by Harper & Brothers.]
+
+
+
+
+WAUKEWA'S EAGLE[18]
+
+
+ONE day, when the Indian boy Waukewa was hunting along the
+mountain-side, he found a young eagle with a broken wing, lying at the
+base of a cliff. The bird had fallen from an aery on a ledge high above,
+and being too young to fly, had fluttered down the cliff and injured
+itself so severely that it was likely to die. When Waukewa saw it he was
+about to drive one of his sharp arrows through its body, for the passion
+of the hunter was strong in him, and the eagle plunders many a fine fish
+from the Indian's drying-frame. But a gentler impulse came to him as he
+saw the young bird quivering with pain and fright at his feet, and he
+slowly unbent his bow, put the arrow in his quiver, and stooped over the
+panting eaglet. For fully a minute the wild eyes of the wounded bird and
+the eyes of the Indian boy, growing gentler and softer as he gazed,
+looked into one another. Then the struggling and panting of the young
+eagle ceased; the wild, frightened look passed out of its eyes, and it
+suffered Waukewa to pass his hand gently over its ruffled and draggled
+feathers. The fierce instinct to fight, to defend its threatened life,
+yielded to the charm of the tenderness and pity expressed in the boy's
+eyes; and from that moment Waukewa and the eagle were friends.
+
+Waukewa went slowly home to his father's lodge, bearing the wounded
+eaglet in his arms. He carried it so gently that the broken wing gave no
+twinge of pain, and the bird lay perfectly still, never offering to
+strike with its sharp beak the hands that clasped it.
+
+Warming some water over the fire at the lodge, Waukewa bathed the broken
+wing of the eagle, and bound it up with soft strips of skin. Then he
+made a nest of ferns and grass inside the lodge, and laid the bird in
+it. The boy's mother looked on with shining eyes. Her heart was very
+tender. From girlhood she had loved all the creatures of the woods, and
+it pleased her to see some of her own gentle spirit waking in the boy.
+
+When Waukewa's father returned from hunting, he would have caught up the
+young eagle and wrung its neck. But the boy pleaded with him so eagerly,
+stooping over the captive and defending it with his small hands, that
+the stern warrior laughed and called him his "little squaw-heart." "Keep
+it, then," he said, "and nurse it until it is well. But then you must
+let it go, for we will not raise up a thief in the lodges." So Waukewa
+promised that when the eagle's wing was healed and grown so that it
+could fly, he would carry it forth and give it its freedom.
+
+It was a month--or, as the Indians say, a moon--before the young eagle's
+wing had fully mended and the bird was old enough and strong enough to
+fly. And in the meantime Waukewa cared for it and fed it daily, and the
+friendship between the boy and the bird grew very strong.
+
+But at last the time came when the willing captive must be freed. So
+Waukewa carried it far away from the Indian lodges, where none of the
+young braves might see it hovering over and be tempted to shoot their
+arrows at it, and there he let it go. The young eagle rose toward the
+sky in great circles, rejoicing in its freedom and its strange, new
+power of flight. But when Waukewa began to move away from the spot, it
+came swooping down again; and all day long it followed him through the
+woods as he hunted. At dusk, when Waukewa shaped his course for the
+Indian lodges, the eagle would have accompanied him. But the boy
+suddenly slipped into a hollow tree and hid, and after a long time the
+eagle stopped sweeping about in search of him and flew slowly and sadly
+away.
+
+Summer passed, and then winter; and spring came again, with its flowers
+and birds and swarming fish in the lakes and streams. Then it was that
+all the Indians, old and young, braves and squaws, pushed their light
+canoes out from shore and with spear and hook waged pleasant war against
+the salmon and the red-spotted trout. After winter's long imprisonment,
+it was such joy to toss in the sunshine and the warm wind and catch
+savory fish to take the place of dried meats and corn!
+
+Above the great falls of the Apahoqui the salmon sported in the cool,
+swinging current, darting under the lee of the rocks and leaping full
+length in the clear spring air. Nowhere else were such salmon to be
+speared as those which lay among the riffles at the head of the Apahoqui
+rapids. But only the most daring braves ventured to seek them there, for
+the current was strong, and should a light canoe once pass the
+danger-point and get caught in the rush of the rapids, nothing could
+save it from going over the roaring falls.
+
+Very early in the morning of a clear April day, just as the sun was
+rising splendidly over the mountains, Waukewa launched his canoe a
+half-mile above the rapids of the Apahoqui, and floated downward, spear
+in hand, among the salmon-riffles. He was the only one of the Indian
+lads who dared fish above the falls. But he had been there often, and
+never yet had his watchful eye and his strong paddle suffered the
+current to carry his canoe beyond the danger-point. This morning he was
+alone on the river, having risen long before daylight to be first at the
+sport.
+
+The riffles were full of salmon, big, lusty fellows, who glided about
+the canoe on every side in an endless silver stream. Waukewa plunged his
+spear right and left, and tossed one glittering victim after another
+into the bark canoe. So absorbed in the sport was he that for once he
+did not notice when the canoe began to glide more swiftly among the
+rocks. But suddenly he looked up, caught his paddle, and dipped it
+wildly in the swirling water. The canoe swung sidewise, shivered, held
+its own against the torrent, and then slowly, inch by inch, began to
+creep upstream toward the shore. But suddenly there was a loud, cruel
+snap, and the paddle parted in the boy's hands, broken just above the
+blade! Waukewa gave a cry of despairing agony. Then he bent to the
+gunwale of his canoe and with the shattered blade fought desperately
+against the current. But it was useless. The racing torrent swept him
+downward; the hungry falls roared tauntingly in his ears.
+
+Then the Indian boy knelt calmly upright in the canoe, facing the mist
+of the falls, and folded his arms. His young face was stern and lofty.
+He had lived like a brave hitherto--now he would die like one.
+
+Faster and faster sped the doomed canoe toward the great cataract. The
+black rocks glided away on either side like phantoms. The roar of the
+terrible waters became like thunder in the boy's ears. But still he
+gazed calmly and sternly ahead, facing his fate as a brave Indian
+should. At last he began to chant the death-song, which he had learned
+from the older braves. In a few moments all would be over. But he would
+come before the Great Spirit with a fearless hymn upon his lips.
+
+Suddenly a shadow fell across the canoe. Waukewa lifted his eyes and saw
+a great eagle hovering over, with dangling legs, and a spread of wings
+that blotted out the sun. Once more the eyes of the Indian boy and the
+eagle met; and now it was the eagle who was master!
+
+With a glad cry the Indian boy stood up in his canoe, and the eagle
+hovered lower. Now the canoe tossed up on that great swelling wave that
+climbs to the cataract's edge, and the boy lifted his hands and caught
+the legs of the eagle. The next moment he looked down into the awful
+gulf of waters from its very verge. The canoe was snatched from beneath
+him and plunged down the black wall of the cataract; but he and the
+struggling eagle were floating outward and downwards through the cloud
+of mist. The cataract roared terribly, like a wild beast robbed of its
+prey. The spray beat and blinded, the air rushed upward as they fell.
+But the eagle struggled on with his burden. He fought his way out of the
+mist and the flying spray. His great wings threshed the air with a
+whistling sound. Down, down they sank, the boy and the eagle, but ever
+farther from the precipice of water and the boiling whirlpool below. At
+length, with a fluttering plunge, the eagle dropped on a sand-bar below
+the whirlpool, and he and the Indian boy lay there a minute, breathless
+and exhausted. Then the eagle slowly lifted himself, took the air under
+his free wings, and soared away, while the Indian boy knelt on the sand,
+with shining eyes following the great bird till he faded into the gray
+of the cliffs.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 18: By permission from Waukewa's Eagle, by James Buckham, in
+_St. Nicholas_, Vol. XXVIII, Part I, The Century Company.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
+
+[Illustration: THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF]
+
+
+
+
+THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF[19]
+
+
+"YES, sir," said my host the quarryman, reaching down the relics from
+their hook in the wall over the chimney-piece; "they've hung there all
+my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em; they're
+afraid of the story. So here they'll dangle, and gather dust and smoke,
+till another tenant comes and tosses 'em out o' doors for rubbish. Whew!
+'tis coarse weather."
+
+He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat
+upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove
+past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine
+of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the
+relics on my knee. The metal of each was tarnished out of knowledge. But
+the trumpet was evidently an old cavalry trumpet, and the threads of its
+parti-colored sling, though frayed and dusty, still hung together.
+Around the side-drum, beneath its cracked brown varnish, I could hardly
+trace a royal coat-of-arms and a legend running, _Per Mare per
+Terram_--the motto of the Marines. Its parchment, though colored and
+scented with wood-smoke, was limp and mildewed, and I began to tighten
+up the straps--under which the drum-sticks had been loosely thrust
+--with the idle purpose of trying if some music might be got out of the
+old drum yet.
+
+But as I turned it on my knee, I found the drum attached to the
+trumpet-sling by a curious barrel-shaped padlock, and paused to examine
+this. The body of the lock was composed of half a dozen brass rings, set
+accurately edge to edge; and, rubbing the brass with my thumb, I saw
+that each of the six had a series of letters engraved around it.
+
+I knew the trick of it, I thought. Here was one of those word padlocks,
+once so common; only to be opened by getting the rings to spell a
+certain word, which the dealer confides to you.
+
+My host shut and barred the door, and came back to the hearth.
+
+"'Twas just such a wind--east by south--that brought in what you've got
+between your hands. Back in the year 'nine it was; my father has told me
+the tale a score o' times. You're twisting round the rings, I see. But
+you'll never guess the word. Parson Kendall, he made the word, and
+knocked down a couple o' ghosts in their graves with it, and when his
+time came, he went to his own grave and took the word with him."
+
+"Whose ghosts, Matthew?"
+
+"You want the story, I see, sir. My father could tell it better than I
+can. He was a young man in the year 'nine, unmarried at the time, and
+living in this very cottage just as I be. That's how he came to get
+mixed up with the tale."
+
+He took a chair, lit a short pipe, and unfolded the story in a low
+musing voice, with his eyes fixed on the dancing violet flames.
+
+"Yes, he'd ha' been about thirty year old in January of the year 'nine.
+The storm got up in the night o' the twenty-first o' that month. My
+father was dressed and out long before daylight; he never was one to
+'bide in bed, let be that the gale by this time was pretty near lifting
+the thatch over his head. Besides which, he'd fenced a small 'taty-patch
+that winter, down by Lowland Point, and he wanted to see if it stood the
+night's work. He took the path across Gunner's Meadow--where they buried
+most of the bodies afterward. The wind was right in his teeth at the
+time, and once on the way (he's told me this often) a great strip of
+ore-weed came flying through the darkness and fetched him a slap on the
+cheek like a cold hand. But he made shift pretty well till he got to
+Lowland, and then had to drop upon his hands and knees and crawl,
+digging his fingers every now and then into the shingle to hold on, for
+he declared to me that the stones, some of them as big as a man's head,
+kept rolling and driving past till it seemed the whole foreshore was
+moving westward under him. The fence was gone, of course; not a stick
+left to show where it stood; so that, when first he came to the place,
+he thought he must have missed his bearings. My father, sir, was a very
+religious man; and if he reckoned the end of the world was at
+hand--there in the great wind and night, among the moving stones--you
+may believe he was certain of it when he heard a gun fired, and, with
+the same, saw a flame shoot up out of the darkness to windward, making a
+sudden fierce light in all the place about. All he could find to think
+or say was, 'The Second Coming--The Second Coming! The Bridegroom
+cometh, and the wicked He will toss like a ball into a large country!'
+and being already upon his knees, he just bowed his head and 'bided,
+saying this over and over.
+
+"But by'm-by, between two squalls, he made bold to lift his head and
+look, and then by the light--a bluish color 'twas--he saw all the coast
+clear away to Manacle Point, and off the Manacles, in the thick of the
+weather, a sloop-of-war with top-gallants housed, driving stern foremost
+toward the reef. It was she, of course, that was burning the flare. My
+father could see the white streak and the ports of her quite plain as
+she rose to it, a little outside the breakers, and he guessed easy
+enough that her captain had just managed to wear ship, and was trying to
+force her nose to the sea with the help of her small bower anchor and
+the scrap or two of canvas that hadn't yet been blown out of her. But
+while he looked, she fell off, giving her broadside to it foot by foot,
+and drifting back on the breakers around Carn du and the Varses. The
+rocks lie so thick thereabouts, that 'twas a toss up which she struck
+first; at any rate, my father couldn't tell at the time, for just then
+the flare died down and went out.
+
+"Well, sir, he turned then in the dark and started back for Coverack to
+cry the dismal tidings--though well knowing ship and crew to be past any
+hope; and as he turned, the wind lifted him and tossed him forward 'like
+a ball,' as he'd been saying, and homeward along the foreshore. As you
+know, 'tis ugly work, even by daylight, picking your way among the
+stones there, and my father was prettily knocked about at first in the
+dark. But by this 'twas nearer seven than six o'clock, and the day
+spreading. By the time he reached North Corner, a man could see to read
+print; hows'ever he looked neither out to sea nor toward Coverack, but
+headed straight for the first cottage--the same that stands above North
+Corner to-day. A man named Billy Ede lived there then, and when my
+father burst into the kitchen bawling, 'Wreck! wreck!' he saw Billy
+Ede's wife, Ann, standing there in her clogs, with a shawl over her
+head, and her clothes wringing wet.
+
+"'Save the chap!' says Billy Ede's wife, Ann. 'What d' 'ee means by
+crying stale fish at that rate?'
+
+"'But 'tis a wreck. I tell 'ee. I've azeed'n!'
+
+"'Why, so 'tis,' says she, 'and I've azeed'n, too; and so has every one
+with an eye in his head.'
+
+"And with that she pointed straight over my father's shoulder, and he
+turned: and there, close under Dolor Point, at the end of Coverack town,
+he saw another wreck washing, and the Point black with people, like
+emmets, running to and fro in the morning light. While we stood staring
+at her, he heard a trumpet sounded on board, the notes coming in little
+jerks, like a bird rising against the wind; but faintly, of course,
+because of the distance and the gale blowing--though this had dropped a
+little.
+
+"'She's a transport,' said Billy Ede's wife, Ann, 'and full of horse
+soldiers, fine long men. When she struck they must ha' pitched the
+hosses over first to lighten the ship, for a score of dead hosses had
+washed in afore I left, half an hour back. An' three or four soldiers,
+too--fine long corpses in white breeches and jackets of blue and gold. I
+held the lantern to one. Such a straight young man.'
+
+"My father asked her about the trumpeting.
+
+"'That's the queerest bit of all. She was burnin' a light when me an' my
+man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone; whether they
+were carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't rightly know.
+Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rocks with her decks bare. Her keelson
+was broke under her and her bottom sagged and stove, and she had just
+settled down like a sitting hen--just the leastest list to starboard;
+but a man could stand there easy. They had rigged up ropes across her,
+from bulwark to bulwark, an' beside these the men were mustered, holding
+on like grim death whenever the sea made a clean breach over them, an'
+standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the
+officers were clinging to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their
+golden uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they
+expected. There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of
+line, though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a
+trumpeter, a whacking big man, an' between the heavy seas he would lift
+his trumpet with one hand, and blow a call; and every time he blew the
+men gave a cheer. There (she says)--hark 'ee now--there he goes agen!
+But you won't hear no cheering any more, for few are left to cheer, and
+their voices weak. Bitter cold the wind is, and I reckon it numbs their
+grip o' the ropes, for they were dropping off fast with every sea when
+my man sent me home to get his breakfast. Another wreck, you say? Well,
+there's no hope for the tender dears, if 'tis the Manacles. You'd better
+run down and help yonder; though 'tis little help that any man can give.
+Not one came in alive while I was there. The tide's flowing, an' she
+won't hold together another hour, they say.'
+
+"Well, sure enough, the end was coming fast when my father got down to
+the point. Six men had been cast up alive, or just breathing--a seaman
+and five troopers. The seaman was the only one that had breath to speak;
+and while they were carrying him into the town, the word went round
+that the ship's name was the Despatch, transport, homeward bound from
+Corunna, with a detachment of the 7th Hussars, that had been fighting
+out there with Sir John Moore. The seas had rolled her farther over by
+this time, and given her decks a pretty sharp slope; but a dozen men
+still held on, seven by the ropes near the ship's waist, a couple near
+the break of the poop, and three on the quarter-deck. Of these three my
+father made out one to be the skipper; close by him clung an officer in
+full regimentals--his name, they heard after, was Captain Duncanfield;
+and last came the tall trumpeter; and if you'll believe me, the fellow
+was making shift there, at the very last, to blow _'God Save the King.'_
+What's more, he got to _'Send Us Victorious'_ before an extra big sea
+came bursting across and washed them off the deck--every man but one of
+the pair beneath the poop--and _he_ dropped his hold before the next
+wave; being stunned, I reckon. The others went out of sight at once, but
+the trumpeter--being, as I said, a powerful man as well as a tough
+swimmer--rose like a duck, rode out a couple of breakers, and came in on
+the crest of the third. The folks looked to see him broke like an egg at
+their feet; but when the smother cleared, there he was, lying face
+downward on a ledge below them; and one of the men that happened to have
+a rope round him--I forget the fellow's name, if I ever heard it--jumped
+down and grabbed him by the ankle as he began to slip back. Before the
+next big sea, the pair were hauled high enough to be out of harm, and
+another heave brought them up to grass. Quick work; but master trumpeter
+wasn't quite dead! nothing worse than a cracked head and three staved
+ribs. In twenty minutes or so they had him in bed, with the doctor to
+tend him.
+
+"Now was the time--nothing being left alive upon the transport--for my
+father to tell of the sloop he'd seen driving upon the Manacles. And
+when he got a hearing, though the most were set upon salvage, and
+believed a wreck in the hand, so to say, to be worth half a dozen they
+couldn't see, a good few volunteered to start off with him and have a
+look. They crossed Lowland Point; no ship to be seen on the Manacles,
+nor anywhere upon the sea. One or two was for calling my father a liar.
+'Wait till we come to Dean Point,' said he. Sure enough, on the far side
+of Dean Point, they found the sloop's mainmast washing about with half a
+dozen men lashed to it--men in red jackets--every mother's son drowned
+and staring; and a little farther on, just under the Dean, three or
+four bodies cast up on the shore, one of them a small drummer-boy,
+side-drum and all; and, near by, part of a ship's gig, with 'H. M. S.
+Primrose' cut on the stern-board. From this point on, the shore was
+littered thick with wreckage and dead bodies--the most of them marines
+in uniform; and in Godrevy Cove in particular, a heap of furniture from
+the captain's cabin, and among it a water-tight box, not much damaged,
+and full of papers, by which, when it came to be examined next day, the
+wreck was easily made out to be the Primrose of eighteen guns, outward
+bound from Portsmouth, with a fleet of transports for the Spanish War,
+thirty sail, I've heard, but I've never heard what became of them. Being
+handled by merchant skippers, no doubt they rode out the gale and
+reached the Tagus safe and sound. Not but what the captain of the
+Primrose (Mein was his name) did quite right to try and club-haul his
+vessel when he found himself under the land; only he never ought to have
+got there if he took proper soundings. But it's easy talking.
+
+"The Primrose, sir, was a handsome vessel--for her size, one of the
+handsomest in the King's service--and newly fitted out at Plymouth Dock.
+So the boys had brave pickings from her in the way of brass-work,
+ship's instruments, and the like, let alone some barrels of stores not
+much spoiled. They loaded themselves with as much as they could carry,
+and started for home, meaning to make a second journey before the
+preventive men got wind of their doings and came to spoil the fun. But
+as my father was passing back under the Dean, he happened to take a look
+over his shoulder at the bodies there. 'Hullo,' says he, and dropped his
+gear, 'I do believe there's a leg moving!' And, running fore, he stooped
+over the small drummer-boy that I told you about. The poor little chap
+was lying there, with his face a mass of bruises and his eyes closed:
+but he had shifted one leg an inch or two, and was still breathing. So
+my father pulled out a knife and cut him free from his drum--that was
+lashed on to him with a double turn of Manilla rope--and took him up and
+carried him along here, to this very room that we're sitting in. He lost
+a good deal by this, for when he went back to fetch his bundle the
+preventive men had got hold of it, and were thick as thieves along the
+foreshore; so that 'twas only by paying one or two to look the other way
+that he picked up anything worth carrying off: which you'll allow to be
+hard, seeing that he was the first man to give news of the wreck.
+
+"Well, the inquiry was held, of course, and my father gave evidence, and
+for the rest they had to trust to the sloop's papers, for not a soul was
+saved besides the drummer-boy, and he was raving in a fever, brought on
+by the cold and the fright. And the seamen and the five troopers gave
+evidence about the loss of the Despatch. The tall trumpeter, too, whose
+ribs were healing, came forward and kissed the book; but somehow his
+head had been hurt in coming ashore, and he talked foolish-like, and
+'twas easy seen he would never be a proper man again. The others were
+taken up to Plymouth, and so went their ways; but the trumpeter stayed
+on in Coverick; and King George, finding he was fit for nothing, sent
+him down a trifle of a pension after a while--enough to keep him in
+board and lodging, with a bit of tobacco over.
+
+"Now the first time that this man--William Tallifer, he called
+himself--met with the drummer-boy, was about a fortnight after the
+little chap had bettered enough to be allowed a short walk out of doors,
+which he took, if you please, in full regimentals. There never was a
+soldier so proud of his dress. His own suit had shrunk a brave bit with
+the salt water; but into ordinary frock an' corduroys he declared he
+would not get--not if he had to go naked the rest of his life; so my
+father, being a good-natured man and handy with the needle, turned to
+and repaired damages with a piece or two of scarlet cloth cut from the
+jacket of one of the drowned Marines. Well, the poor little chap chanced
+to be standing, in this rig-out, down by the gate of Gunner's Meadow,
+where they had buried two-score and over of his comrades. The morning
+was a fine one, early in March month; and along came the cracked
+trumpeter, likewise taking a stroll.
+
+"'Hullo!' says he; 'good-mornin'! And what might you be doin' here?'
+
+"'I was a-wishin',' says the boy, 'I had a pair o' drumsticks. Our lads
+were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a musket fired;
+and that's not Christian burial for British soldiers.'
+
+"'Phut!' says the trumpeter, and spat on the ground; 'a parcel of
+Marines!'
+
+"The boy eyed him a second or so, but answered up: 'If I'd a tab of turf
+handy, I'd bung it at your mouth, you greasy cavalryman, and learn you
+to speak respectful of your betters. The Marines are the handiest body
+of men in the service.'
+
+"The trumpeter looked down on him from the height of six foot two, and
+asked: 'Did they die well?'
+
+"'They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first,
+and some of the men began to cry, and a few to strip off their clothes.
+But when the ship fell off for the last time, Captain Mein turned and
+said something to Major Griffiths, the commanding officer on board, and
+the Major called out to me to beat to quarters. It might have been for a
+wedding, he sang it out so cheerful. We'd had word already that 'twas to
+be parade order, and the men fell in as trim and decent as if they were
+going to church. One or two even tried to shave at the last moment. The
+Major wore his medals. One of the seamen, seeing that I had hard work to
+keep the drum steady--the sling being a bit loose for me and the wind
+what you remember--lashed it tight with a piece of rope; and that saved
+my life afterward, a drum being as good as a cork until it's stove. I
+kept beating away until every man was on deck; and then the Major formed
+them up and told them to die like British soldiers, and the chaplain
+read a prayer or two--the boys standin' all the while like rocks, each
+man's courage keeping up the other's. The chaplain was in the middle of
+a prayer when she struck. In ten minutes she was gone. That was how they
+died, cavalryman.'
+
+"'And that was very well done, drummer of the Marines. What's your
+name?'
+
+"'John Christian.'
+
+"'Mine's William George Tallifer, trumpeter, of the 7th Light
+Dragoons--the Queen's Own. I played _'God Save the King'_ while our men
+were drowning. Captain Duncanfield told me to sound a call or two, to
+put them in heart; but that matter of _'God Save the King'_ was a notion
+of my own. I won't say anything to hurt the feelings of a Marine, even
+if he's not much over five foot tall; but the Queen's Own Hussars is a
+tearin' fine regiment. As between horse and foot 'tis a question o'
+which gets the chance. All the way from Sahagun to Corunna 'twas we that
+took and gave the knocks--at Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.' (The
+reason, sir, I can speak the names so pat is that my father learnt 'em
+by heart afterward from the trumpeter, who was always talking about
+Mayorga and Rueda and Bennyventy.) 'We made the rearguard, under General
+Paget, and drove the French every time; and all the infantry did was to
+sit about in wine-shops till we whipped 'em out, an' steal an' straggle
+an' play the tom-fool in general. And when it came to a stand-up fight
+at Corunna, 'twas we that had to stay sea-sick aboard the transports,
+an' watch the infantry in the thick o' the caper. Very well they
+behaved, too; 'specially the 4th Regiment, an' the 42d Highlanders, an'
+the Dirty Half-Hundred. Oh, ay; they're decent regiments, all three. But
+the Queen's Own Hussars is a tearin' fine regiment. So you played on
+your drum when the ship was goin' down? Drummer John Christian, I'll
+have to get you a new pair o' drum-sticks for that.'
+
+"Well, sir, it appears that the very next day the trumpeter marched into
+Helston, and got a carpenter there to turn him a pair of box-wood
+drum-sticks for the boy. And this was the beginning of one of the most
+curious friendships you ever heard tell of. Nothing delighted the pair
+more than to borrow a boat of my father and pull out to the rocks where
+the Primrose and the Despatch had struck and sunk; and on still days
+'twas pretty to hear them out there off the Manacles, the drummer
+playing his tattoo--for they always took their music with them--and the
+trumpeter practising calls, and making his trumpet speak like an angel.
+But if the weather turned roughish, they'd be walking together and
+talking; leastwise, the youngster listened while the other discoursed
+about Sir John's campaign in Spain and Portugal, telling how each little
+skirmish befell; and of Sir John himself, and General Baird and General
+Paget, and Colonel Vivian his own commanding officer, and what kind men
+they were; and of the last bloody stand-up at Corunna, and so forth, as
+if neither could have enough.
+
+"But all this had to come to an end in the late summer, for the boy,
+John Christian, being now well and strong again, must go up to Plymouth
+to report himself. 'Twas his own wish (for I believe King George had
+forgotten all about him), but his friend wouldn't hold him back. As for
+the trumpeter, my father had made an arrangement to take him on as a
+lodger as soon as the boy left; and on the morning fixed for the start
+he was up at the door here by five o'clock, with his trumpet slung by
+his side, and all the rest of his belongings in a small valise. A Monday
+morning it was, and after breakfast he had fixed to walk with the boy
+some way on the road toward Helston, where the coach started. My father
+left them at breakfast together, and went out to meat the pig, and do a
+few odd morning jobs of that sort. When he came back, the boy was still
+at table, and the trumpeter standing here by the chimney-place with the
+drum and trumpet in his hands, hitched together just as they be at this
+moment.
+
+"'Look at this,' he says to my father, showing him the lock; 'I picked
+it up off a starving brass-worker in Lisbon, and it is not one of your
+common locks that one word of six letters will open at any time. There's
+_janius_ in this lock; for you've only to make the ring spell any
+six-letter word you please, and snap down the lock upon that, and never
+a soul can open it--not the maker, even--until somebody comes along that
+knows the word you snapped it on. Now, Johnny, here's goin', and he
+leaves his drum behind him; for, though he can make pretty music on it,
+the parchment sags in wet weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at
+it; an' if he carries it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give
+him another. And as for me, I shan't have the heart to put lip to the
+trumpet any more when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together,
+and locked 'em together upon that; and, by your leave, I'll hang 'em
+here together on the hook over your fireplace. Maybe Johnny'll come
+back; maybe not. Maybe, if he comes, I'll be dead an' gone, an' he'll
+take 'em apart an' try their music for old sake's sake. But if he never
+comes, nobody can separate 'em; for nobody besides knows the word. And
+if you marry and have sons, you can tell 'em that here are tied together
+the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer, of the Marines, and William
+George Tallifer, once trumpeter of the Queen's Own Hussars. Amen.'
+
+"With that he hung the two instruments 'pon the hook there; and the boy
+stood up and thanked my father and shook hands; and the pair went forth
+of the door, toward Helston.
+
+"Somewhere on the road they took leave of one another; but nobody saw
+the parting, nor heard what was said between them. About three in the
+afternoon the trumpeter came walking back over the hill; and by the time
+my father came home from the fishing, the cottage was tidied up and the
+tea ready, and the whole place shining like a new pin. From that time
+for five years he lodged here with my father, looking after the house
+and tilling the garden; and all the while he was steadily failing, the
+hurt in his head spreading, in a manner, to his limbs. My father watched
+the feebleness growing on him, but said nothing. And from first to last
+neither spake a word about the drummer, John Christian; nor did any
+letter reach them, nor word of his doings.
+
+     "The rest of the tale you'm free to believe, sir, or not, as you
+     please. It stands upon my father's words, and he always declared he
+     was ready to kiss the Book upon it before judge and jury. He said,
+     too, that he never had the wit to make up such a yarn; and he
+     defied any one to explain about the lock, in particular, by any
+     other tale. But you shall judge for yourself.
+
+
+"My father said that about three o'clock in the morning, April
+fourteenth of the year 'fourteen, he and William Tallifer were sitting
+here, just as you and I, sir, are sitting now. My father had put on his
+clothes a few minutes before, and was mending his spiller by the light
+of the horn lantern, meaning to set off before daylight to haul the
+trammel. The trumpeter hadn't been to bed at all. Toward the last he
+mostly spent his nights (and his days, too) dozing in the elbow-chair
+where you sit at this minute. He was dozing then (my father said), with
+his chin dropped forward on his chest, when a knock sounded upon the
+door, and the door opened, and in walked an upright young man in scarlet
+regimentals.
+
+"He had grown a brave bit, and his face was the color of wood-ashes; but
+it was the drummer, John Christian. Only his uniform was different from
+the one he used to wear, and the figures '38' shone in brass upon his
+collar.
+
+"The drummer walked past my father as if he never saw him, and stood by
+the elbow-chair and said:
+
+"'Trumpeter, trumpeter, are you one with me?'
+
+"And the trumpeter just lifted the lids of his eyes, and answered, 'How
+should I not be one with you, drummer Johnny--Johnny boy? The men are
+patient. 'Til you come, I count; you march, I mark time until the
+discharge comes.'
+
+"'The discharge has come to-night,' said the drummer, 'and the word is
+Corunna no longer;' and stepping to the chimney-place, he unhooked the
+drum and trumpet, and began to twist the brass rings of the lock,
+spelling the word aloud, so--C-O-R-U-N-A. When he had fixed the last
+letter, the padlock opened in his hand.
+
+"'Did you know, trumpeter, that when I came to Plymouth they put me into
+a line regiment.'
+
+"'The 38th is a good regiment,' answered the old Hussar, still in his
+dull voice. 'I went back with them from Sahagun to Corunna. At Corunna
+they stood in General Fraser's division, on the right. They behaved
+well.'
+
+"'But I'd fain see the Marines again,' says the drummer, handing him the
+trumpet, 'and you--you shall call once more for the Queen's Own.
+Matthew,' he says, suddenly, turning on my father--and when he turned,
+my father saw for the first time that his scarlet jacket had a round
+hole by the breast-bone, and that the blood was welling there--'Matthew,
+we shall want your boat.'
+
+"Then my father rose on his legs like a man in a dream, while they two
+slung on, the one his drum, and t'other his trumpet. He took the
+lantern, and went quaking before them down to the shore, and they
+breathed heavily behind him; and they stepped into his boat, and my
+father pushed off.
+
+"'Row you first for Dolor Point,' says the drummer. So my father rowed
+them out past the white houses of Coverack to Dolor Point, and there, at
+a word, lay on his oars. And the trumpeter, William Tallifer, put his
+trumpet to his mouth and sounded the _Revelly_. The music of it was like
+rivers running.
+
+"'They will follow,' said the drummer. 'Matthew, pull you now for the
+Manacles.'
+
+"So my father pulled for the Manacles, and came to an easy close outside
+Carn du. And the drummer took his sticks and beat a tattoo, there by the
+edge of the reef; and the music of it was like a rolling chariot.
+
+"'That will do,' says he, breaking off; 'they will follow. Pull now for
+the shore under Gunner's Meadow.'
+
+"Then my father pulled for the shore, and ran his boat in under Gunner's
+Meadow. And they stepped out, all three, and walked up to the meadow. By
+the gate the drummer halted and began his tattoo again, looking out
+toward the darkness over the sea.
+
+"And while the drum beat, and my father held his breath, there came up
+out of the sea and the darkness a troop of many men, horse and foot, and
+formed up among the graves; and others rose out of the graves and formed
+up--drowned Marines with bleached faces, and pale Hussars riding their
+horses, all lean and shadowy. There was no clatter of hoofs or
+accoutrements, my father said, but a soft sound all the while, like the
+beating of a bird's wing and a black shadow lying like a pool about the
+feet of all. The drummer stood upon a little knoll just inside the gate,
+and beside him the tall trumpeter, with hand on hip, watching them
+gather; and behind them both my father, clinging to the gate. When no
+more came the drummer stopped playing, and said, 'Call the roll.'
+
+"Then the trumpeter stepped toward the end man of the rank and called,
+'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons,' and the man in a thin voice
+answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Troop-Sergeant-Major Thomas Irons, how is it with you?'
+
+"The man answered, 'How should it be with me? When I was young, I
+betrayed a girl; and when I was grown, I betrayed a friend, and for
+these things I must pay. But I died as a man ought. God save the King!'
+
+"The trumpeter called to the next man, 'Trooper Henry Buckingham', and
+the next man answered, 'Here!'
+
+"'Trooper Henry Buckingham, how is it with you?'
+
+"'How should it be with me? I was a drunkard, and I stole, and in Lugo,
+in a wine-shop, I knifed a man. But I died as a man should. God save the
+King!'
+
+"So the trumpeter went down the line; and when he had finished, the
+drummer took it up, hailing the dead Marines in their order. Each man
+answered to his name, and each man ended with 'God save the King!' When
+all were hailed, the drummer stepped back to his mound, and called:
+
+"'It is well. You are content, and we are content to join you. Wait yet
+a little while.'
+
+"With this he turned and ordered my father to pick up the lantern, and
+lead the way back. As my father picked it up, he heard the ranks of
+dead men cheer and call, 'God save the King!' all together, and saw them
+waver and fade back into the dark, like a breath fading off a pane.
+
+"But when they came back here to the kitchen, and my father set the
+lantern down, it seemed they'd both forgot about him. For the drummer
+turned in the lantern-light--and my father could see the blood still
+welling out of the hole in his breast--and took the trumpet-sling from
+around the other's neck, and locked drum and trumpet together again,
+choosing the letters on the lock very carefully. While he did this he
+said:
+
+"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an "n" in
+Corunna, so must I leave out an "n" in Bayonne.' And before snapping the
+padlock, he spelt out the word slowly--'B-A-Y-O-N-E.' After that, he
+used no more speech; but turned and hung the two instruments back on the
+hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm; and the pair walked out
+into the darkness, glancing neither to right nor left.
+
+"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of sigh
+behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the very
+trumpeter he had just seen walk out by the door! If my father's heart
+jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now. But after a bit,
+he went up to the man asleep in the chair, and put a hand upon him. It
+was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he touched; but though the
+flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father was
+minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it). But the day
+after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from Helston market: and
+the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news the coach brought down
+this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father. 'Why, that peace is agreed
+upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father. 'Not soon enough for our poor
+lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered. 'Bayonne!' cries my father, with
+a jump. 'Why, yes;' and the parson told him all about a great sally the
+French had made on the night of April 13th. 'Do you happen to know if
+the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come, now,' said
+Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the campaign. But,
+as it happens, I _do_ know that the 38th was engaged, for 'twas they
+that held a cottage and stopped the French advance.'
+
+"Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked into
+Helston and bought a _Mercury_ off the Sherborne rider, and got the
+landlord of the Angel to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure
+enough, there among the killed was Drummer John Christian, of the 38th
+Foot.
+
+"After this there was nothing for a religious man but to make a clean
+breast. So my father went up to Parson Kendall and told the whole story.
+The parson listened, and put a question or two, and then asked:
+
+"'Have you tried to open the lock since that night?'
+
+"'I han't dared to touch it,' says my father.
+
+"'Then come along and try.' When the parson came to the cottage here, he
+took the things off the hook and tried the lock. 'Did he say
+_"Bayonne"?_ The word has seven letters.'
+
+"'Not if you spell it with one "n" as _he_ did,' says my father.
+
+"The parson spelt it out--B-A-Y-O-N-E. 'Whew!' says he, for the lock had
+fallen open in his hand.
+
+"He stood considering it a moment, and then he said, 'I tell you what. I
+shouldn't blab this all round the parish, if I was you. You won't get no
+credit for truth-telling, and a miracle's wasted on a set of fools. But
+if you like, I'll shut down the lock again upon a holy word that no one
+but me shall know, and neither drummer nor trumpeter, dead nor alive,
+shall frighten the secret out of me.'
+
+"'I wish to gracious you would, parson,' said my father.
+
+"The parson chose the holy word there and then, and shut the lock back
+upon it, and hung the drum and trumpet back in their place. He is gone
+long since, taking the word with him. And till the lock is broken by
+force, nobody will ever separate those twain."
+
+[Illustration: HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 19: From _The Wandering Heath,_ by Arthur Quiller-Couch.
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+
+
+
+HOW JAN BREWER WAS PISKEY-LADEN[20]
+
+
+THE moon was near her setting as a tall, broad-shouldered man called
+Jan Brewer was walking home to Constantine Bay to his cottage on the
+edge of the cliff.
+
+He was singing an old song to himself as he went along, and he sang till
+he drew near the ruins of Constantine Church, standing on a sandy common
+near the bay. As he drew near the remains of this ancient church, which
+were clearly seen in the moonshine, he thought he heard some one
+laughing, but he was not quite sure, for the sea was roaring on the
+beach below the common, and the waves were making a loud noise as they
+dashed up the great headland of Trevose.
+
+"I was mistaken; 'twas nobody laughing," said Jan to himself, and he
+walked on again, singing as before; and he sang till he came near a
+gate, which opened into a field leading to his cottage, but when he got
+there he could not see the gate or the gateway.
+
+"I was so taken up with singing the old song, that I must have missed my
+way," he said again to himself. "I'll go back to the head of the common
+and start afresh," which he did; and when he got to the place where his
+gate ought to have been, he could not find it to save his life.
+
+"I must be clean _mazed_,"[21] he cried. "I have never got out of my
+reckoning before, nor missed finding my way to our gate, even when the
+night has been as dark as pitch. It isn't at all dark to-night; I can
+see Trevose Head--and yet I can't see my own little gate! But I en't
+a-going to be done; I'll go round and round this common till I _do_ find
+my gate."
+
+And round and round the common he went, but find his gate he could not.
+
+Every time he passed the ruins of the church a laugh came up from the
+pool below the ruins, and once he thought he saw a dancing light on the
+edge of the pool, where a lot of reeds and rushes were growing.
+
+"The Little Man in the Lantern is about to-night,"[22] he said to
+himself, as he glanced at the pool. "But I never knew he was given to
+laughing before."
+
+Once more he went round the common, and when he had passed the ruins he
+heard giggling and laughing, this time quite close to him; and looking
+down on the grass, he saw to his astonishment hundreds of Little Men and
+Little Women with tiny lights in their hands, which they were
+_flinking_[23] about as they laughed and giggled.
+
+The Little Men wore stocking-caps, the color of ripe briar berries, and
+grass-green coats, and the Little Women had on old grandmother cloaks of
+the same vivid hue as the Wee Men's coats, and they also wore little
+scarlet hoods.
+
+"I believe the great big chap sees us," said one of the Little Men,
+catching sight of Jan's astonished face. "He must be Piskey-eyed, and we
+did not know it."
+
+"Is he really?" cried one of the _Dinky_[24] Women. "'Tis a pity, but
+we'll have our game over him just the same."
+
+"That we will," cried all the Little Men and Little Women in one voice;
+and, forming a ring round the great tall fellow, they began to dance
+round him, laughing, giggling and flashing up their lights as they
+danced.
+
+They went round him so fast that poor Jan was quite bewildered, and
+whichever way he looked there were these Little Men and Little Women
+giggling up into his bearded face. And when he tried to break through
+their ring they went before him and behind him, making a game over him.
+
+He was at their mercy and they knew it; and when they saw the great
+fellow's misery, they only laughed and giggled the more.
+
+"We've got him!" they cried to each other, and they said it with such
+gusto and with such a comical expression on their tiny brown faces, that
+Jan, bewildered as he was, and tired with going round the common so many
+times, could not help laughing, they looked so very funny, particularly
+when the Little Women winked up at him from under their little scarlet
+hoods.
+
+The Piskeys--for they were Piskeys[25]--hurried him down the common,
+dancing round him all the time; and when he got there he felt so
+mizzy-mazey with those tiny whirling figures going round and round him
+like a whirligig, that he did not know whether he was standing on his
+head or his heels. He was also in a bath of perspiration--"sweating
+leaking," he said--and, putting his hand in his pocket to take out a
+handkerchief to mop his face, he remembered having been told that, if
+he ever got Piskey-laden, he must turn his coat pockets inside out,
+then he would be free at once from his Piskey tormentors. And
+in a minute or less his coat-pockets were hanging out, and all the
+Little Men and the Little Women had vanished, and there, right in front
+of him, he saw his own gate! He lost no time in opening it, and in a
+very short time was in his thatched cottage on the cliff.
+
+[Illustration: MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 20: From _Legends and Tales of North Cornwall_, by Enys
+Tregarthen. Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.]
+
+[Footnote 21: Mad.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Jack-o'-Lantern. Will-o'-the-Wisp. The Piskey Puck. Some
+say he walks about carrying a lantern, others, that he goes over the
+moors _in_ his lantern.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Waving.]
+
+[Footnote 24: Little.]
+
+[Footnote 25: In Cornwall, these "little Ancient People" are called
+_Piskeys_. In England and Ireland, _Pixies_.]
+
+
+
+
+MY GRANDFATHER, HENDRY WATTY[26]
+
+A DROLL
+
+
+'TIS the nicest miss in the world that I was born grandson of my own
+father's father, and not of another man altogether.
+
+Hendry Watty was the name of my grandfather that might have been; and he
+always maintained that to all intents and purposes he _was_ my
+grandfather, and made me call him so--'twas such a narrow shave. I don't
+mind telling you about it. 'Tis a curious tale, too.
+
+
+My grandfather, Hendry Watty, bet four gallons of eggy-hot that he would
+row out to the Shivering Grounds, all in the dead waste of the night,
+and haul a trammel there. To find the Shivering Grounds by night, you
+get the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna and pull out till you open
+the light on St. Anthony's Point; but everybody gives the place a wide
+berth because Archelaus Rowett's lugger foundered there one time, with
+six hands on board; and they say that at night you can hear the drowned
+men hailing their names. But my grandfather was the boldest man in Port
+Loe, and said he didn't care. So one Christmas Eve by daylight he and
+his mates went out and tilled the trammel; and then they came back and
+spent the forepart of the evening over the eggy-hot, down to Oliver's
+tiddly-wink,[27] to keep my grandfather's spirits up and also to show
+that the bet was made in earnest.
+
+'Twas past eleven o'clock when they left Oliver's and walked down to the
+cove to see my grandfather off. He has told me since that he didn't feel
+afraid at all, but very friendly in mind, especially toward William John
+Dunn, who was walking on his right hand. This puzzled him at the first,
+for as a rule he didn't think much of William John Dunn. But now he
+shook hands with him several times, and just as he was stepping into the
+boat he says, "You'll take care of Mary Polly while I'm away." Mary
+Polly Polsue was my grandfather's sweetheart at that time. But why my
+grandfather should have spoken as if he was bound on a long voyage he
+never could tell; he used to set it down to fate.
+
+"I will," said William John Dunn; and then they gave a cheer and pushed
+my grandfather off, and he lit his pipe and away he rowed all into the
+dead waste of the night. He rowed and rowed, all in the dead waste the
+night; and he got the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna windows; and
+still he was rowing, when to his great surprise he heard a voice
+calling:
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"_
+
+I told you my grandfather was the boldest man in Port Loe. But he
+dropped his two oars now, and made the five signs of Penitence. For who
+could it be calling him out here in the dead waste and middle of the
+night?
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line_."
+
+My grandfather kept his fishing-lines in a little skivet under the
+stern-sheets. But not a trace of bait had he on board. If he had, he was
+too much a-tremble to bait a hook.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _drop
+    me a line, or I'll know why_."
+
+My poor grandfather had by this picked up his oars again, and was rowing
+like mad to get quit of the neighborhood, when something or somebody
+gave three knocks--_thump, thump, thump!_--on the bottom of the boat,
+just as you would knock on a door.
+
+The third thump fetched Hendry Watty upright on his legs. He had no
+more heart for disobeying, but having bitten his pipe-stem in half by
+this time--his teeth chattered so--he baited his hook with the broken
+bit and flung it overboard, letting the line run out in the stern-notch.
+Not half-way had it run before he felt a long pull on it, like the
+sucking of a dog-fish.
+
+    _"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! pull me in."_
+
+Hendry Watty pulled in hand over fist, and in came the lead sinker over
+the notch, and still the line was heavy; he pulled and he pulled, and
+next, all out of the dead waste of the night, came two white hands, like
+a washerwoman's, and gripped hold of the stern-board; and on the left of
+these two hands, was a silver ring, sunk very deep in the flesh. If this
+was bad, worse was the face that followed--and if this was bad for
+anybody, it was worse for my grandfather who had known Archelaus Rowett
+before he was drowned out on the Shivering Grounds, six years before.
+
+Archelaus Rowett climbed in over the stern, pulled the hook with the bit
+of pipe-stem out of his cheek, sat down in the stern-sheets, shook a
+small crayfish out of his whiskers, and said very coolly: "If you should
+come across my wife--"
+
+That was all that my grandfather stayed to hear. At the sound of
+Archelaus's voice he fetched a yell, jumped clean over the side of the
+boat and swam for dear life. He swam and swam, till by the bit of the
+moon he saw the Gull Rock close ahead. There were lashin's of rats on
+the Gull Rock, as he knew; but he was a good deal surprised at the way
+they were behaving, for they sat in a row at the water's edge and
+fished, with their tails let down into the sea for fishing-lines; and
+their eyes were like garnets burning as they looked at my grandfather
+over their shoulders.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! you can't land here--you're disturbing the
+pollack."
+
+"Bejimbers! I wouldn' do that for the world," says my grandfather; so
+off he pushes and swims for the mainland. This was a long job, and it
+was as much as he could do to reach Kibberick beach, where he fell on
+his face and hands among the stones, and there lay, taking breath.
+
+The breath was hardly back in his body before he heard footsteps, and
+along the beach came a woman, and passed close by to him. He lay very
+quiet, and as she came near he saw 'twas Sarah Rowett, that used to be
+Archelaus's wife, but had married another man since. She was knitting as
+she went by, and did not seem to notice my grandfather; but he heard her
+say to herself, "The hour is come, and the man is come."
+
+He had scarcely begun to wonder over this when he spied a ball of
+worsted yarn beside him that Sarah had dropped. 'Twas the ball she was
+knitting from, and a line of worsted stretched after her along the
+beach. Hendry Watty picked up the ball and followed the thread on
+tiptoe. In less than a minute he came near enough to watch what she was
+doing; and what she did was worth watching. First she gathered wreckwood
+and straw, and struck flint over touchwood and teened a fire. Then she
+unraveled her knitting; twisted her end of the yarn between finger and
+thumb--like a cobbler twisting a wax-end--and cast the end up towards
+the sky. It made Hendry Watty stare when the thread, instead of falling
+back to the ground, remained hanging, just as if 'twas fastened to
+something up above; but it made him stare still more when Sarah Rowett
+began to climb up it, and away up till nothing could be seen of her but
+her ankles dangling out of the dead waste and middle of the night.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY!"
+
+It wasn't Sarah calling, but a voice far away out to sea.
+
+    "HENDRY WATTY! HENDRY WATTY! _send
+    me a line!"_
+
+My grandfather was wondering what to do, when Sarah speaks down very
+sharp to him, out of the dark:
+
+"Hendry Watty! where's the rocket apparatus? Can't you hear the poor
+fellow asking for a line?"
+
+"I do," says my grandfather, who was beginning to lose his temper; "and
+do you think, ma'am, that I carry a Boxer's rocket in my trousers
+pocket?"
+
+"I think you have a ball of worsted in your hand," says she. "Throw it
+as far as you can."
+
+So my grandfather threw the ball out into the dead waste and middle of
+the night. He didn't see where it pitched, or how far it went.
+
+"Right it is," says the woman aloft. "'Tis easy seen you're a hurler.
+But what shall us do for a cradle?[28] Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty!"
+
+"Ma'am to _you,"_ said my grandfather.
+
+"If you have the common feelings of a gentleman, I'll ask you to turn
+your back; I'm going to take off my stocking."
+
+So my grandfather stared the other way very politely; and when he was
+told he might look again, he saw she had tied the stocking to the line
+and was running it out like a cradle into the dead waste of the night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+Before he could answer, plump! a man's leg came tumbling past his ear
+and scattered the ashes right and left.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas a great white arm and hand, with a silver ring sunk
+tight in the flesh of the little finger.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! warm them limbs!"
+
+My grandfather picked them up and was warming them before the fire, when
+down came tumbling a great round head and bounced twice and lay in the
+firelight, staring up at him. And whose head was it but Archelaus
+Rowett's, that he'd run away from once already that night.
+
+"Hendry Watty! Hendry Watty! look out below!"
+
+This time 'twas another leg, and my grandfather was just about to lay
+hands on it, when the woman called down:
+
+"Hendry Watty! catch it quick! It's my own leg I've thrown down by
+mistake."
+
+The leg struck the ground and bounced high, and Hendry Watty made a leap
+after it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And I reckon it's asleep he must have been; for what he caught was not
+Mrs. Rowett's leg, but the jib-boom of a deep-laden brigantine that was
+running him down in the dark. And as he sprang for it, his boat was
+crushed by the brigantine's fore-foot and went down under his very
+boot-soles. At the same time he let out a yell, and two or three of the
+crew ran forward and hoisted him up to the bowsprit and in on deck, safe
+and sound.
+
+But the brigantine happened to be outward bound for the River Plate; so
+that, with one thing and another, 'twas eleven good months before my
+grandfather landed again at Port Loe. And who should be the first man he
+sees standing above the cove but William John Dunn.
+
+"I'm very glad to see you," says William John Dunn.
+
+"Thank you kindly," answers my grandfather; "and how's Mary Polly?"
+
+"Why, as for that," he says, "she took so much looking after, that I
+couldn't feel I was properly keeping her under my eye till I married
+her, last June month."
+
+"You was always one to over-do things," said my grandfather.
+
+"But if you was alive an' well, why didn' you drop us a line?"
+
+Now when it came to talk about "dropping a line," my grandfather fairly
+lost his temper. So he struck William John Dunn on the nose--a thing he
+had never been known to do before--and William John Dunn hit him back,
+and the neighbors had to separate them. And next day, William John Dunn
+took out a summons against him. Well, the case was tried before the
+magistrates: and my grandfather told his story from the beginning, quite
+straightforward, just as I've told it to you. And the magistrates
+decided that, taking one thing and another, he'd had a great deal of
+provocation, and fined him five shillings. And there the matter ended.
+But now you know the reason why I'm William John Dunn's grandson instead
+of Hendry Watty's.
+
+[Illustration: CHILDE ROWLAND]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 26: From _The Wandering Heath_, by Arthur Quiller-Couch;
+Copyright, 1895, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the
+publishers.]
+
+[Footnote 27: Beer-house.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Breeches buoy.]
+
+
+
+
+CHILDE ROWLAND[29]
+
+    Childe Rowland and his brothers twain
+      Were playing at the ball,
+    And there was their sister Burd Ellen
+      In the midst, among them all.
+
+    Childe Rowland kicked it with his foot
+      And caught it with his knee;
+    At last as he plunged among them all
+      O'er the church he made it flee.
+
+    Burd Ellen round about the aisle
+      To seek the ball is gone,
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      And she came not back again.
+
+    They sought her east, they sought her west,
+      They sought her up and down,
+    And woe were the hearts of those brethren,
+      For she was not to be found.
+
+SO at last her eldest brother went to the Warlock Merlin and told him
+all the case, and asked him if he knew where Burd Ellen was. "The fair
+Burd Ellen," said the Warlock Merlin, "must have been carried off by the
+fairies, because she went round the church 'widershins'--the opposite
+way to the sun. She is now in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland; it
+would take the boldest knight in Christendom to bring her back."
+
+"If it is possible to bring her back," said her brother, "I'll do it, or
+perish in the attempt."
+
+"Possible it is," said the Warlock Merlin, "but woe to the man or
+mother's son that attempts it, if he is not well taught beforehand what
+he is to do."
+
+The eldest brother of Burd Ellen was not to be put off, by any fear of
+danger, from attempting to get her back, so he begged the Warlock Merlin
+to tell him what he should do, and what he should not do, in going to
+seek his sister. And after he had been taught, and had repeated his
+lesson, he set out for Elfland.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With doubt and muckle pain,
+    But woe were the hearts of his brethren,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+Then the second brother got tired and tired of waiting, and he went to
+the Warlock Merlin and asked him the same as his brother. So he set out
+to find Burd Ellen.
+
+    But long they waited, and longer still,
+      With muckle doubt and pain,
+    And woe were his mother's and brother's heart,
+      For he came not back again.
+
+And when they had waited and waited a good long time, Childe Rowland,
+the youngest of Burd Ellen's brothers, wished to go, and went to his
+mother, the good queen, to ask her to let him go. But she would not at
+first, for he was the last and dearest of her children, and if he was
+lost, all would be lost. But he begged, and he begged, till at last the
+good queen let him go, and gave him his father's good brand that never
+struck in vain, and as she girt it round his waist, she said the spell
+that would give it victory.
+
+So Childe Rowland said good-by to the good queen, his mother, and went
+to the cave of the Warlock Merlin. "Once more, and but once more," he
+said to the Warlock, "tell how man or mother's son may rescue Burd Ellen
+and her brothers twain."
+
+"Well, my son," said the Warlock Merlin, "there are but two things,
+simple they may seem, but hard they are to do. One thing to do, and one
+thing not to do. And the thing to do is this: after you have entered the
+land of Fairy, whoever speaks to you, till you meet the Burd Ellen, you
+must out with your father's brand and off with their head. And what
+you've not to do is this: bite no bit, and drink no drop, however hungry
+or thirsty you be; drink a drop or bite a bit, while in Elfland you be
+and never will you see Middle Earth again."
+
+So Childe Rowland said the two things over and over again, till he knew
+them by heart, and he thanked the Warlock Merlin and went on his way.
+And he went along, and along, and along, and still further along, till
+he came to the horse-herd of the King of Elfland feeding his horses.
+These he knew by their fiery eyes, and knew that he was at last in the
+land of Fairy. "Canst thou tell me," said Childe Rowland to the
+horse-herd, "where the King of Elfland's Dark Tower is?" "I cannot tell
+thee," said the horse-herd, "but go on a little further and thou wilt
+come to the cow-herd, and he, maybe, can tell thee."
+
+Then, without a word more, Childe Rowland drew the good brand that never
+struck in vain, and off went the horse-herd's head, and Childe Rowland
+went on further, till he came to the cow-herd, and asked him the same
+question. "I can't tell thee," said he, "but go on a little further, and
+thou wilt come to the hen-wife, and she is sure to know." Then Childe
+Rowland out with his good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went
+the cow-herd's head. And he went on a little further, till he came to an
+old woman in a gray cloak, and he asked her if she knew where the Dark
+Tower of the King of Elfland was. "Go on a little further," said the
+hen-wife, "till you come to a round green hill, surrounded with
+terrace-rings, from the bottom to the top; go round it three times,
+'widershins,' and each time say:
+
+    "'Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in,'
+
+and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." And Childe
+Rowland was just going on, when he remembered what he had to do; so he
+out with the good brand, that never struck in vain, and off went the
+hen-wife's head.
+
+Then he went on, and on, and on, till he came to the round green hill
+with the terrace-rings from top to bottom, and he went round it three
+times, "widershins," saying each time:
+
+    "Open, door! open, door!
+    And let me come in."
+
+And the third time the door did open, and he went in, and it closed with
+a click, and Childe Rowland was left in the dark.
+
+It was not exactly dark, but a kind of twilight or gloaming. There were
+neither windows nor candles, and he could not make out where the
+twilight came from, if not through the walls and roof. There were rough
+arches made of a transparent rock, incrusted with sheepsilver and rock
+spar, and other bright stones. But though it was rock, the air was quite
+warm, as it always is in Elfland. So he went through this passage till
+at last he came to two wide and high folding-doors which stood ajar. And
+when he opened them, there he saw a most wonderful and glorious sight. A
+large and spacious hall, so large that it seemed to be as long, and as
+broad, as the green hill itself. The roof was supported by fine pillars,
+so large and lofty, that the pillars of a cathedral were as nothing to
+them. They were all of gold and silver, with fretted work, and between
+them and around them wreaths of flowers, composed of what do you think?
+Why, of diamonds and emeralds, and all manner of precious stones. And
+the very key-stones of the arches had for ornaments clusters of diamonds
+and rubies, and pearls, and other precious stones. And all these arches
+met in the middle of the roof, and just there, hung by a gold chain, an
+immense lamp made out of one big pearl hollowed out and quite
+transparent. And in the middle of this was a big, huge carbuncle, which
+kept spinning round and round, and this was what gave light by its rays
+to the whole hall, which seemed as if the setting sun was shining on it.
+
+The hall was furnished in a manner equally grand, and at one end of it
+was a glorious couch of velvet, silk and gold, and there sat Burd Ellen,
+combing her golden hair with a silver comb. And when she saw Childe
+Rowland she stood up and said:
+
+    "God pity ye, poor luckless fool,
+      What have ye here to do?
+
+    "Hear ye this, my youngest brother,
+      Why didn't ye bide at home?
+    Had you a hundred thousand lives
+      Ye couldn't spare any a one.
+
+    "But sit ye down; but woe, O, woe,
+      That ever ye were born,
+    For come the King of Elfland in,
+      Your fortune is forlorn."
+
+Then they sat down together, and Childe Rowland told her all that he had
+done, and she told him how their two brothers had reached the Dark
+Tower, but had been enchanted by the King of Elfland, and lay there
+entombed as if dead. And then after they had talked a little longer
+Childe Rowland began to feel hungry from his long travels, and told his
+sister Burd Ellen how hungry he was and asked for some food, forgetting
+all about the Warlock Merlin's warning.
+
+Burd Ellen looked at Childe Rowland sadly, and shook her head, but she
+was under a spell, and could not warn him. So she rose up, and went out,
+and soon brought back a golden basin full of bread and milk. Childe
+Rowland was just going to raise it to his lips, when he looked at his
+sister and remembered why he had come all that way. So he dashed the
+bowl to the ground, and said: "Not a sup will I swallow, nor a bit will
+I bite, till Burd Ellen is set free."
+
+Just at that moment they heard the noise of some one approaching, and a
+loud voice was heard saying:
+
+    "Fee, fi, fo, fum,
+    I smell the blood of a Christian man,
+    Be he dead, be he living, with my brand,
+    I'll dash his brains from his brain-pan."
+
+And then the folding-doors of the hall were burst open, and the King of
+Elfland rushed in.
+
+"Strike, then, Bogle, if thou darest," shouted out Childe Rowland, and
+rushed to meet him with his good brand that never yet did fail. They
+fought, and they fought, and they fought, till Childe Rowland beat the
+King of Elfland down on to his knees, and caused him to yield and beg
+for mercy. "I grant thee mercy," said Childe Rowland; "release my sister
+from thy spells and raise my brothers to life, and let us all go free,
+and thou shalt be spared." "I agree," said the Elfin King, and rising up
+he went to a chest from which he took a phial filled with a blood-red
+liquor. With this he anointed the ears, eyelids, nostrils, lips, and
+finger-tips of the two brothers, and they sprang at once into life, and
+declared that their souls had been away, but had now returned. The Elfin
+King then said some words to Burd Ellen, and she was disenchanted, and
+they all four passed out of the hall, through the long passage, and
+turned their back on the Dark Tower, never to return again. So they
+reached home, and the good queen their mother and Burd Ellen never went
+round a church "widershins"[30] again.
+
+[Illustration: TAM O' SHANTER]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 29: From _English Fairy Tales,_ by Joseph Jacobs. Courtesy of
+G. P. Putnam's Sons.]
+
+[Footnote 30: To go from _left_ to right, instead of following the Sun's
+course from _right_ to left.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[31]
+
+
+IT was market-day in the town of Ayr in Scotland. The farmers had come
+into town from all the country round about, to sell or exchange their
+farm produce, and buy what they needed to take home.
+
+Amongst these farmers was a man by the name of Tam o' Shanter; a good
+natured, happy-go-lucky sort of person, but, I am sorry to say, somewhat
+of a drunkard.
+
+Now Tam's wife, whose name was Kate, was a grievous scold; always
+nagging and faultfinding, and I fear making it far easier for Tam to do
+wrong than if she had treated him more kindly. However that may be, Tam
+was happier away from home; and this day had escaped his wife's scolding
+tongue, mounted his good gray mare Meg, and galloped off as fast as he
+could go to Market.
+
+Tam, who was bent upon having a spree, found his good friend, the
+shoemaker Johnny, and off they went to their favorite ale house; where
+they stayed telling stories and singing and drinking, till late at
+night.
+
+At last the time came to go home and Tam who had forgotten the long
+miles between him and the farm set forth, but a terrible storm had
+risen; the wind blew, the rain fell in torrents and the thunder roared
+long and loud.
+
+It was a fearful night, black as pitch except for the blinding flashes
+of lightning; but Tam was well mounted on his good gray mare Maggie, and
+splashed along through the wind and mire, holding on to his good blue
+bonnet, and singing aloud an old Scotch sonnet; while looking about him
+with prudent care lest the bogies catch him unawares.
+
+At last he drew near to the old ruined church of Alloway. For many, many
+years this old church had been roofless, but the walls were standing and
+it still retained the bell.
+
+For many years it was said that the ghosts and witches nightly held
+their revels there, and sometimes rang the old bell. As Tam was crossing
+the ford of the stream called the Doon, which flowed nearby, he looked
+up at the old church on the hillside above him, and behold! it was all
+ablaze with lights, and sounds of mirth and dancing reached his ears.
+
+Now Tam had been made fearless by old John Barleycorn, and he made good
+Maggie take him close to the church so that he could look inside, and
+there he saw the weirdest sight--
+
+Witches and ghosts in a mad dance, and the music was furnished by the
+Devil himself in the shape of a beast, who played upon the bagpipes, and
+made them scream so loud that the very rafters rang with the sound.
+
+It was an awful sight; and as Tam looked in, amazed and curious, the fun
+and mirth grew fast and furious.
+
+The Piper loud and louder blew, and the dancers quick and quicker flew.
+
+One of the witches resembled a handsome girl that Tam had known called
+Nannie; Tam sat as one bewitched watching her as she danced, and at last
+losing his wits altogether, called out: "Weel done, Cutty-Sark!"--and in
+an instant all was dark!
+
+He had scarcely time to turn Maggie round, when all the legion of
+witches and spirits were about him like a swarm of angry bees. As a
+crowd runs, when the cry "Catch the thief" is heard, so runs Maggie; and
+the witches follow with many an awful screech and halloo! Hurry, Meg!
+Do thy utmost! Win the keystone of the bridge, for a running stream they
+_dare_ not cross! _Then_ you can toss your tail at them! But before good
+Meg could reach the keystone of the bridge she had no tail to toss. For
+Nannie far before the rest, hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+and flew at Tam with fury. But she little knew good Maggie's
+mettle. With one spring, she brought off her master safe, but left
+behind her own gray tail!
+
+The witch had caught it and left poor Maggie with only a stump.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 31: Prose Version, by Anna Cogswell Tyler.]
+
+
+
+
+TAM O' SHANTER[32]
+
+    "Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."--Gawin Douglas.
+
+    When chapman billies leave the street,
+    And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
+    As market-days are wearing late,
+    An' folk begin to tak' the gate;
+    While we sit bousing at the nappy,
+    An' gettin' fou and unco happy,
+    We think na on the lang Scots miles,
+    The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
+    That lie between us and our hame,
+    Where sits our sulky sullen dame,
+    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
+    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
+
+    This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
+    As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
+    (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
+    For honest men and bonny lasses.)
+    O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
+    As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advise!
+    She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
+    A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
+    That frae November till October,
+    Ae market-day thou wasna sober;
+    That ilka melder, wi' the miller,
+    Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
+    That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,
+    The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;
+    That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday,
+    Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday.
+    She prophesy'd, that late or soon,
+    Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;
+    Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,
+    By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.
+
+    Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
+    To think how mony counsels sweet,
+    How mony lengthen'd sage advices,
+    The husband frae the wife despises!
+    But to our tale:--Ae market night,
+    Tam had got planted unco right;
+    Fast by an ingle bleezing finely,
+    Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely;
+    And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
+    His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
+    Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither;
+    They had been fou' for weeks thegither!
+    The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter;
+    And ay the ale was growing better:
+    The storm without might rair and rustle-- Tam
+    did na mind the storm a whistle.
+
+    Care, made to see a man sae happy,
+    E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy!
+    As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
+    The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:
+    Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
+    O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
+
+    But pleasures are like poppies spread,
+    You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+    Or like the snow falls in the river,
+    A moment white--then melts for ever;
+    Or like the borealis race,
+    That flit ere you can point their place;
+    Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+    Evanishing amid the storm.
+    Nae man can tether time or tide;
+    The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
+    That hour, o' night's black arch the kay-stane,
+    That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
+    And sic a night he taks the road in
+    As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in.
+    The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
+    The rattling show'rs rose on the blast;
+    The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;
+    Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd:
+    That night, a child might understand,
+    The De'il had business on his hand.
+
+    Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg,
+    A better never lifted leg,
+    Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire,
+    Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
+    Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet;
+    Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;
+    Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares,
+    Les bogles catch him unawares;
+    Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
+    Where ghaists and houlets nightly cry.
+
+    By this time he was cross the foord,
+    Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;
+    And past the birks and meikle stane,
+    Where drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane;
+    And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,
+    Where hunters fand the murder'd bairn;
+    And near the thorn, aboon the well,
+    Where Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.
+    Before him Doon pours all his floods;
+    The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;
+    The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
+    Near and more near the thunders roll;
+    When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,
+    Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;
+    Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;
+    And loud resounded mirth and dancing.
+
+    Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn!
+    What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
+    Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
+    Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil!
+    The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noodle,
+    Fair play, he car'd nae deils a boddle.
+    But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd,
+    'Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,
+    She ventur'd forward on the light;
+    And wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
+    Warlocks and witches in a dance;
+    Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
+    But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
+    Put life and mettle in their heels:
+    A winnock-bunker in the east,
+    There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
+    A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
+    To gie them music was his charge;
+    He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl,
+    Till roof and rafters a' did dirl-- As
+    Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
+    The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:
+    The piper loud and louder blew;
+    The dancers quick and quicker flew;
+    They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,
+    'Til ilka carlin swat and reekit,
+    And coost her duddies to the wark,
+    And linket at it in her sark!
+
+    But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
+    There was a winsome wench and walie,
+    That night enlisted in the core,
+    (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore;
+    For mony a beast to dead she shot,
+    And perish'd mony a bonnie boat,
+    And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
+    And kept the country-side in fear.)
+    Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
+    That, while a lassie, she had worn,
+    In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
+    It was her best, and she was vauntie.
+    Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie,
+    That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
+    Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches),
+    Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!
+
+    But here my muse her wing maun cour;
+    Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;
+    To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
+    (A soup'e jade she was and strang),
+    And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,
+    And thought his very een enrich'd;
+    Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,
+    And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main:
+    'Til first ae caper, syne anither,
+    Tam tint his reason a' thegither,
+    And roars out, "Well done, Cutty-sark!"
+    And in an instant all was dark:
+    And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
+    When out the hellish legion sallied.
+
+    As bees bizz out wi' angry gyke,
+    When plundering herds assail their byke;
+    As open pussie's mortal foes,
+    When, pop! she starts before their nose;
+    As eager runs the market-crowd,
+    When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
+    So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
+    Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow.
+
+    Ah, Tam! Ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!
+    In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!
+    In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'!
+    Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
+    Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
+    And win the key-stane of the brig;
+    There at them thou thy tail may toss,
+    A running stream they darena cross!
+    But ere the key-stane she could make,
+    The fient a tail she had to shake!
+    For Nannie, far before the rest,
+    Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
+    And flew at Tammie wi' furious ettle;
+    But little wist she Maggie's mettle-- Ae
+    spring brought off her master hale,
+    But left behind her ain gray tail:
+    The carlin claught her by the rump,
+    And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.
+
+    Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
+    Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:
+    Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,
+    Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
+    Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear-- Remember
+    Tam o' Shanter's mare.
+
+    ROBERT BURNS.
+
+[Illustration: THE BOGGART]
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 32: It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits,
+have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the
+next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the
+benighted traveler, that when he falls in with _bogles,_ whatever danger
+there may be in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning
+back.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BOGGART[33]
+
+
+IN an old farm-house in Yorkshire, where lived an honest farmer named
+George Gilbertson, a Boggart had taken up his abode. He caused a good
+deal of trouble, and he kept tormenting the children, day and night, in
+various ways. Sometimes their bread and butter would be snatched away,
+or their porringers of bread and milk be capsized by an invisible hand;
+for the Boggart never let himself be seen; at other times the curtains
+of their beds would be shaken backwards and forwards, or a heavy weight
+would press on and nearly suffocate them. Their mother had often, on
+hearing their cries, to fly to their aid.
+
+There was a kind of closet, formed by a wooden partition on the
+kitchen-stairs, and a large knot having been driven out of one of the
+deal-boards of which it was made, there remained a round hole. Into
+this, one day, the farmer's youngest boy stuck the shoe-horn with which
+he was amusing himself, when immediately it was thrown out again, and
+struck the boy on the head. Of course it was the Boggart did this, and
+it soon became their sport, which they called _larking with the
+Boggart,_ to put the shoe-horn into the hole and have it shot back at
+them. But the gamesome Boggart at length proved such a torment that the
+farmer and his wife resolved to quit the house and let him have it all
+to himself. This settled, the flitting day came, and the farmer and his
+family were following the last loads of furniture, when a neighbor named
+John Marshall came up.
+
+"Well, Georgey," said he, "and so you're leaving t'ould hoose at last?"
+
+"Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm forced to it; for that bad Boggart torments
+us so, we can neither rest night nor day for't. It seems to have such a
+malice against t'poor bairns, it almost kills my poor dame here at
+thoughts on't, and so, ye see, we're forced to flitt loike."
+
+He scarce had uttered the words when a voice from a deep upright churn
+cried out. _"Aye, aye, Georgey, we're flittin ye see!"_
+
+"Ods, alive!" cried the farmer, "if I'd known thou would flit too, I'd
+not have stirred a peg!"
+
+And with that, he turned about to his wife, and told her they might as
+well stay in the old house, as be bothered by the Boggart in a new one.
+So stay they did.
+
+THE END
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 33: From _Fairy-Gold_, a book of old English Fairy Tales.
+Chosen by Ernest Rhys.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Twenty-Four Unusual Stories for Boys
+and Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-14 20:02:00 -0700
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