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diff --git a/old/34618.txt b/old/34618.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92f5177 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/34618.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6718 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-FOUR UNUSUAL STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 34618.txt or 34618.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/6/1/34618/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreaders at fadedpage.net + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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