diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-8.txt | 5200 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 97288 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 272499 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/35440-h.htm | 5544 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61193 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/002.png | bin | 0 -> 6030 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/003.png | bin | 0 -> 3998 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/005.png | bin | 0 -> 4249 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/010.png | bin | 0 -> 2232 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/022.png | bin | 0 -> 2165 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/038.png | bin | 0 -> 14167 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/058.png | bin | 0 -> 863 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/082.png | bin | 0 -> 1010 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/094.png | bin | 0 -> 894 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/102.png | bin | 0 -> 2181 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/112.png | bin | 0 -> 943 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/122.png | bin | 0 -> 727 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/142.png | bin | 0 -> 995 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/154.png | bin | 0 -> 1058 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/162.png | bin | 0 -> 1081 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/174.png | bin | 0 -> 1021 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/192.png | bin | 0 -> 999 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/202.png | bin | 0 -> 1061 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/220.png | bin | 0 -> 856 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/230.png | bin | 0 -> 1079 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/240.png | bin | 0 -> 2699 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/252.png | bin | 0 -> 13634 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/264.png | bin | 0 -> 1103 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/276.png | bin | 0 -> 1012 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/277.png | bin | 0 -> 6449 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/278.png | bin | 0 -> 3401 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/279a.png | bin | 0 -> 5598 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/279b.png | bin | 0 -> 5642 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/280.png | bin | 0 -> 6775 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/281.png | bin | 0 -> 13363 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/284.png | bin | 0 -> 7707 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440-h/images/285.png | bin | 0 -> 8228 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440.txt | 5200 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35440.zip | bin | 0 -> 97271 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
42 files changed, 15960 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35440-8.txt b/35440-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7fd4e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5200 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +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: A Little Book of Profitable Tales + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35440] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: cover] + + + + A Little Book + + OF + + PROFITABLE TALES + + + + BY EUGENE FIELD. + + A Little Book of + PROFITABLE TALES. + + A Little Book of + WESTERN VERSE. + + Second + BOOK OF VERSE. + Each, 1 vol., 16mo, $1.25. + + + With Trumpet and Drum. + One vol., 16mo, $1.00. + + + + + A Little Book + + OF + + PROFITABLE TALES + + BY + + EUGENE FIELD + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1894 + + + _Copyright, 1889_ + BY EUGENE FIELD + + University Press: + JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. + + + + + TO + + MY SEVEREST CRITIC, MY MOST LOYAL ADMIRER, + AND MY ONLY DAUGHTER, + + MARY FRENCH FIELD, + + _THIS LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES_ + + IS + + Affectionately Dedicated. + + E. F. + + + + + The Tales in this Little Book. + + + PAGE + + THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE 3 + + THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT 15 + + THE COMING OF THE PRINCE 31 + + THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM 51 + + THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASSE 75 + + THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA 87 + + THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET 95 + + THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY 105 + + MARGARET: A PEARL 115 + + THE SPRINGTIME 135 + + RODOLPH AND HIS KING 147 + + THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS 155 + + EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST 167 + + LUDWIG AND ELOISE 185 + + FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND 195 + + THE OLD MAN 213 + + BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR 223 + + THE LITTLE YALLER BABY 233 + + THE CYCLOPEEDY 245 + + DOCK STEBBINS 257 + + THE FAIRIES OF PESTH 269 + + + + +The First Christmas Tree. + + + + +THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. + + +Once upon a time the forest was in a great commotion. Early in the +evening the wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously and +predicted strange things. They had lived in the forest many, many years; +but never had they seen such marvellous sights as were to be seen now in +the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village. + +"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little vine; "we who are not as +tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things. Describe them to +us, that we may enjoy them with you." + +"I am filled with such amazement," said one of the cedars, "that I can +hardly speak. The whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear to +be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from heaven to the earth, +and enter the village or talk with the shepherds upon the hills." + +The vine listened in mute astonishment. Such things never before had +happened. The vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a +tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever was noticed; yet it was a very +beautiful little tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and other +humble residents of the forest loved it dearly. + +"How I should like to see the angels!" sighed the little tree, "and how +I should like to see the stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very +beautiful." + +As the vine and the little tree talked of these things, the cedars +watched with increasing interest the wonderful scenes over and beyond +the confines of the forest. Presently they thought they heard music, and +they were not mistaken, for soon the whole air was full of the sweetest +harmonies ever heard upon earth. + +"What beautiful music!" cried the little tree. "I wonder whence it +comes." + +"The angels are singing," said a cedar; "for none but angels could make +such sweet music." + +"But the stars are singing, too," said another cedar; "yes, and the +shepherds on the hills join in the song, and what a strangely glorious +song it is!" + +The trees listened to the singing, but they did not understand its +meaning: it seemed to be an anthem, and it was of a Child that had been +born; but further than this they did not understand. The strange and +glorious song continued all the night; and all that night the angels +walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk talked with the angels, and the +stars danced and carolled in high heaven. And it was nearly morning when +the cedars cried out, "They are coming to the forest! the angels are +coming to the forest!" And, surely enough, this was true. The vine and +the little tree were very terrified, and they begged their older and +stronger neighbors to protect them from harm. But the cedars were too +busy with their own fears to pay any heed to the faint pleadings of the +humble vine and the little tree. The angels came into the forest, +singing the same glorious anthem about the Child, and the stars sang in +chorus with them, until every part of the woods rang with echoes of +that wondrous song. There was nothing in the appearance of this angel +host to inspire fear; they were clad all in white, and there were crowns +upon their fair heads, and golden harps in their hands; love, hope, +charity, compassion, and joy beamed from their beautiful faces, and +their presence seemed to fill the forest with a divine peace. The angels +came through the forest to where the little tree stood, and gathering +around it, they touched it with their hands, and kissed its little +branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And their song was +about the Child, the Child, the Child that had been born. Then the +stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon the branches of +the tree, and they, too, sang that song,--the song of the Child. And all +the other trees and the vines and the ferns and the mosses beheld in +wonder; nor could they understand why all these things were being done, +and why this exceeding honor should be shown the little tree. + +When the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel, +who remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar +asked: "Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?" And the angel answered: +"I stay to guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall +come to it." + +The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up +its head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and +grew, and waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had +seen the like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the +little tree, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds +never came to the forest that they did not forget their rude manners and +linger to kiss the little tree and sing it their prettiest songs. No +danger ever menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel never +slept,--through the day and through the night the angel watched the +little tree and protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees talked +with the angel; but of course they understood little of what he said, +for he spoke always of the Child who was to become the Master; and +always when thus he talked, he caressed the little tree, and stroked its +branches and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. It all was so +very strange that none in the forest could understand. + +So the years passed, the angel watching his blooming charge. Sometimes +the beasts strayed toward the little tree and threatened to devour its +tender foliage; sometimes the woodman came with his axe, intent upon +hewing down the straight and comely thing; sometimes the hot, consuming +breath of drought swept from the south, and sought to blight the forest +and all its verdure: the angel kept them from the little tree. Serene +and beautiful it grew, until now it was no longer a little tree, but the +pride and glory of the forest. + +One day the tree heard some one coming through the forest. Hitherto the +angel had hastened to its side when men approached; but now the angel +strode away and stood under the cedars yonder. + +"Dear angel," cried the tree, "can you not hear the footsteps of some +one approaching? Why do you leave me?" + +"Have no fear," said the angel; "for He who comes is the Master." + +The Master came to the tree and beheld it. He placed His hands upon its +smooth trunk and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a strange and +glorious delight. Then He stooped and kissed the tree, and then He +turned and went away. + +Many times after that the Master came to the forest, and when He came it +always was to where the tree stood. Many times He rested beneath the +tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage, and listened to the music of +the wind as it swept through the rustling leaves. Many times He slept +there, and the tree watched over Him, and the forest was still, and all +its voices were hushed. And the angel hovered near like a faithful +sentinel. + +Ever and anon men came with the Master to the forest, and sat with Him +in the shade of the tree, and talked with Him of matters which the tree +never could understand; only it heard that the talk was of love and +charity and gentleness, and it saw that the Master was beloved and +venerated by the others. It heard them tell of the Master's goodness and +humility,--how He had healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed +inestimable blessings wherever He walked. And the tree loved the Master +for His beauty and His goodness; and when He came to the forest it was +full of joy, but when He came not it was sad. And the other trees of the +forest joined in its happiness and its sorrow, for they, too, loved the +Master. And the angel always hovered near. + +The Master came one night alone into the forest, and His face was pale +with anguish and wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and prayed. +The tree heard Him, and all the forest was still, as if it were standing +in the presence of death. And when the morning came, lo! the angel had +gone. + +Then there was a great confusion in the forest. There was a sound of +rude voices, and a clashing of swords and staves. Strange men appeared, +uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, and the tree was filled with +terror. It called aloud for the angel, but the angel came not. + +"Alas," cried the vine, "they have come to destroy the tree, the pride +and glory of the forest!" + +The forest was sorely agitated, but it was in vain. The strange men +plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the ground. +Its beautiful branches were cut away and cast aside, and its soft, thick +foliage was strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds. + +"They are killing me!" cried the tree; "why is not the angel here to +protect me?" + +But no one heard the piteous cry,--none but the other trees of the +forest; and they wept, and the little vine wept too. + +Then the cruel men dragged the despoiled and hewn tree from the forest, +and the forest saw that beauteous thing no more. + +But the night wind that swept down from the City of the Great King that +night to ruffle the bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the forest +awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross upraised on +Calvary,--the tree on which was stretched the body of the dying Master. + +1884. + + * * * * * + +The Symbol and the Saint. + + + + +THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT. + + +Once upon a time a young man made ready for a voyage. His name was +Norss; broad were his shoulders, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was +fair and long, his body betokened strength, and good-nature shone from +his blue eyes and lurked about the corners of his mouth. + +"Where are you going?" asked his neighbor Jans, the forge-master. + +"I am going sailing for a wife," said Norss. + +"For a wife, indeed!" cried Jans. "And why go you to seek her in foreign +lands? Are not our maidens good enough and fair enough, that you must +need search for a wife elsewhere? For shame, Norss! for shame!" + +But Norss said, "A spirit came to me in my dreams last night and said, +'Launch the boat and set sail to-morrow. Have no fear; for I will guide +you to the bride that awaits you.' Then, standing there, all white and +beautiful, the spirit held forth a symbol--such as I had never before +seen--in the figure of a cross, and the spirit said: 'By this symbol +shall she be known to you.'" + +"If this be so, you must need go," said Jans. "But are you well +victualled? Come to my cabin, and let me give you venison and bear's +meat." + +Norss shook his head. "The spirit will provide," said he. "I have no +fear, and I shall take no care, trusting in the spirit." + +So Norss pushed his boat down the beach into the sea, and leaped into +the boat, and unfurled the sail to the wind. Jans stood wondering on the +beach, and watched the boat speed out of sight. + +On, on, many days on sailed Norss,--so many leagues that he thought he +must have compassed the earth. In all this time he knew no hunger nor +thirst; it was as the spirit had told him in his dream,--no cares nor +dangers beset him. By day the dolphins and the other creatures of the +sea gambolled about his boat; by night a beauteous Star seemed to direct +his course; and when he slept and dreamed, he saw ever the spirit clad +in white, and holding forth to him the symbol in the similitude of a +cross. + +At last he came to a strange country,--a country so very different from +his own that he could scarcely trust his senses. Instead of the rugged +mountains of the North, he saw a gentle landscape of velvety green; the +trees were not pines and firs, but cypresses, cedars, and palms; instead +of the cold, crisp air of his native land, he scented the perfumed +zephyrs of the Orient; and the wind that filled the sail of his boat and +smote his tanned cheeks was heavy and hot with the odor of cinnamon and +spices. The waters were calm and blue,--very different from the white +and angry waves of Norss's native fiord. + +As if guided by an unseen hand, the boat pointed straight for the beach +of this strangely beautiful land; and ere its prow cleaved the shallower +waters, Norss saw a maiden standing on the shore, shading her eyes with +her right hand, and gazing intently at him. She was the most beautiful +maiden he had ever looked upon. As Norss was fair, so was this maiden +dark; her black hair fell loosely about her shoulders in charming +contrast with the white raiment in which her slender, graceful form was +clad. Around her neck she wore a golden chain, and therefrom was +suspended a small symbol, which Norss did not immediately recognize. + +"Hast thou come sailing out of the North into the East?" asked the +maiden. + +"Yes," said Norss. + +"And thou art Norss?" she asked. + +"I am Norss; and I come seeking my bride," he answered. + +"I am she," said the maiden. "My name is Faia. An angel came to me in my +dreams last night, and the angel said: 'Stand upon the beach to-day, and +Norss shall come out of the North to bear thee home a bride.' So, coming +here, I found thee sailing to our shore." + +Remembering then the spirit's words, Norss said: "What symbol have you, +Faia, that I may know how truly you have spoken?" + +"No symbol have I but this," said Faia, holding out the symbol that was +attached to the golden chain about her neck. Norss looked upon it, and +lo! it was the symbol of his dreams,--a tiny wooden cross. + +Then Norss clasped Faia in his arms and kissed her, and entering into +the boat they sailed away into the North. In all their voyage neither +care nor danger beset them; for as it had been told to them in their +dreams, so it came to pass. By day the dolphins and the other creatures +of the sea gambolled about them; by night the winds and the waves sang +them to sleep; and, strangely enough, the Star which before had led +Norss into the East, now shone bright and beautiful in the Northern sky! + +When Norss and his bride reached their home, Jans, the forge-master, and +the other neighbors made great joy, and all said that Faia was more +beautiful than any other maiden in the land. So merry was Jans that he +built a huge fire in his forge, and the flames thereof filled the whole +Northern sky with rays of light that danced up, up, up to the Star, +singing glad songs the while. So Norss and Faia were wed, and they went +to live in the cabin in the fir-grove. + +To these two was born in good time a son, whom they named Claus. On the +night that he was born wondrous things came to pass. To the cabin in the +fir-grove came all the quaint, weird spirits,--the fairies, the elves, +the trolls, the pixies, the fadas, the crions, the goblins, the kobolds, +the moss-people, the gnomes, the dwarfs, the water-sprites, the courils, +the bogles, the brownies, the nixies, the trows, the stille-volk,--all +came to the cabin in the fir-grove, and capered about and sang the +strange, beautiful songs of the Mist-Land. And the flames of old Jans's +forge leaped up higher than ever into the Northern sky, carrying the +joyous tidings to the Star, and full of music was that happy night. + +Even in infancy Claus did marvellous things. With his baby hands he +wrought into pretty figures the willows that were given him to play +with. As he grew older, he fashioned, with the knife old Jans had made +for him, many curious toys,--carts, horses, dogs, lambs, houses, trees, +cats, and birds, all of wood and very like to nature. His mother taught +him how to make dolls too,--dolls of every kind, condition, temper, and +color; proud dolls, homely dolls, boy dolls, lady dolls, wax dolls, +rubber dolls, paper dolls, worsted dolls, rag dolls,--dolls of every +description and without end. So Claus became at once quite as popular +with the little girls as with the little boys of his native village; for +he was so generous that he gave away all these pretty things as fast as +he made them. + +Claus seemed to know by instinct every language. As he grew older he +would ramble off into the woods and talk with the trees, the rocks, and +the beasts of the greenwood; or he would sit on the cliffs overlooking +the fiord, and listen to the stories that the waves of the sea loved to +tell him; then, too, he knew the haunts of the elves and the +stille-volk, and many a pretty tale he learned from these little people. +When night came, old Jans told him the quaint legends of the North, and +his mother sang to him the lullabies she had heard when a little child +herself in the far-distant East. And every night his mother held out to +him the symbol in the similitude of the cross, and bade him kiss it ere +he went to sleep. + +So Claus grew to manhood, increasing each day in knowledge and in +wisdom. His works increased too; and his liberality dispensed everywhere +the beauteous things which his fancy conceived and his skill executed. +Jans, being now a very old man, and having no son of his own, gave to +Claus his forge and workshop, and taught him those secret arts which he +in youth had learned from cunning masters. Right joyous now was Claus; +and many, many times the Northern sky glowed with the flames that danced +singing from the forge while Claus moulded his pretty toys. Every color +of the rainbow were these flames; for they reflected the bright colors +of the beauteous things strewn round that wonderful workshop. Just as of +old he had dispensed to all children alike the homelier toys of his +youth, so now he gave to all children alike these more beautiful and +more curious gifts. So little children everywhere loved Claus, because +he gave them pretty toys, and their parents loved him because he made +their little ones so happy. + +But now Norss and Faia were come to old age. After long years of love +and happiness, they knew that death could not be far distant. And one +day Faia said to Norss: "Neither you nor I, dear love, fear death; but +if we could choose, would we not choose to live always in this our son +Claus, who has been so sweet a joy to us?" + +"Ay, ay," said Norss; "but how is that possible?" + +"We shall see," said Faia. + +That night Norss dreamed that a spirit came to him, and that the spirit +said to him: "Norss, thou shalt surely live forever in thy son Claus, if +thou wilt but acknowledge the symbol." + +Then when the morning was come Norss told his dream to Faia, his wife; +and Faia said,-- + +"The same dream had I,--an angel appearing to me and speaking these very +words." + +"But what of the symbol?" cried Norss. + +"I have it here, about my neck," said Faia. + +So saying, Faia drew from her bosom the symbol of wood,--a tiny cross +suspended about her neck by the golden chain. And as she stood there +holding the symbol out to Norss, he--he thought of the time when first +he saw her on the far-distant Orient shore, standing beneath the Star in +all her maidenly glory, shading her beauteous eyes with one hand, and +with the other clasping the cross,--the holy talisman of her faith. + +"Faia, Faia!" cried Norss, "it is the same,--the same you wore when I +fetched you a bride from the East!" + +"It is the same," said Faia, "yet see how my kisses and my prayers have +worn it away; for many, many times in these years, dear Norss, have I +pressed it to my lips and breathed your name upon it. See now--see what +a beauteous light its shadow makes upon your aged face!" + +The sunbeams, indeed, streaming through the window at that moment, cast +the shadow of the symbol on old Norss's brow. Norss felt a glorious +warmth suffuse him, his heart leaped with joy, and he stretched out his +arms and fell about Faia's neck, and kissed the symbol and acknowledged +it. Then likewise did Faia; and suddenly the place was filled with a +wondrous brightness and with strange music, and never thereafter were +Norss and Faia beholden of men. + +Until late that night Claus toiled at his forge; for it was a busy +season with him, and he had many, many curious and beauteous things to +make for the little children in the country round about. The colored +flames leaped singing from his forge, so that the Northern sky seemed to +be lighted by a thousand rainbows; but above all this voiceful glory +beamed the Star, bright, beautiful, serene. + +Coming late to the cabin in the fir-grove, Claus wondered that no sign +of his father or of his mother was to be seen. "Father--mother!" he +cried, but he received no answer. Just then the Star cast its golden +gleam through the latticed window, and this strange, holy light fell and +rested upon the symbol of the cross that lay upon the floor. Seeing it, +Claus stooped and picked it up, and kissing it reverently, he cried: +"Dear talisman, be thou my inspiration evermore; and wheresoever thy +blessed influence is felt, there also let my works be known henceforth +forever!" + +No sooner had he said these words than Claus felt the gift of +immortality bestowed upon him; and in that moment, too, there came to +him a knowledge that his parents' prayer had been answered, and that +Norss and Faia would live in him through all time. + +And lo! to that place and in that hour came all the people of Mist-Land +and of Dream-Land to declare allegiance to him: yes, the elves, the +fairies, the pixies,--all came to Claus, prepared to do his bidding. +Joyously they capered about him, and merrily they sang. + +"Now haste ye all," cried Claus,--"haste ye all to your homes and bring +to my workshop the best ye have. Search, little hill-people, deep in the +bowels of the earth for finest gold and choicest jewels; fetch me, O +mermaids, from the bottom of the sea the treasures hidden there,--the +shells of rainbow tints, the smooth, bright pebbles, and the strange +ocean flowers; go, pixies, and other water-sprites, to your secret +lakes, and bring me pearls! Speed! speed you all! for many pretty +things have we to make for the little ones of earth we love!" + +But to the kobolds and the brownies Claus said: "Fly to every house on +earth where the cross is known; loiter unseen in the corners, and watch +and hear the children through the day. Keep a strict account of good and +bad, and every night bring back to me the names of good and bad, that I +may know them." + +The kobolds and the brownies laughed gleefully, and sped away on +noiseless wings; and so, too, did the other fairies and elves. + +There came also to Claus the beasts of the forest and the birds of the +air, and bade him be their master. And up danced the Four Winds, and +they said: "May we not serve you, too?" + +The Snow King came stealing along in his feathery chariot. "Oho!" he +cried, "I shall speed over all the world and tell them you are +coming. In town and country, on the mountain-tops and in the +valleys,--wheresoever the cross is raised,--there will I herald your +approach, and thither will I strew you a pathway of feathery white. +Oho! oho!" So, singing softly, the Snow King stole upon his way. + +But of all the beasts that begged to do him service, Claus liked the +reindeer best. "You shall go with me in my travels; for henceforth I +shall bear my treasures not only to the children of the North, but to +the children in every land whither the Star points me and where the +cross is lifted up!" So said Claus to the reindeer, and the reindeer +neighed joyously and stamped their hoofs impatiently, as though they +longed to start immediately. + +Oh, many, many times has Claus whirled away from his far Northern home +in his sledge drawn by the reindeer, and thousands upon thousands of +beautiful gifts--all of his own making--has he borne to the children of +every land; for he loves them all alike, and they all alike love him, I +trow. So truly do they love him that they call him Santa Claus, and I am +sure that he must be a saint; for he has lived these many hundred years, +and we, who know that he was born of Faith and Love, believe that he +will live forever. + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Coming of the Prince. + + + + +THE COMING OF THE PRINCE. + + +I. + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" said the wind, and it tore through +the streets of the city that Christmas eve, turning umbrellas inside +out, driving the snow in fitful gusts before it, creaking the rusty +signs and shutters, and playing every kind of rude prank it could think +of. + +"How cold your breath is to-night!" said Barbara, with a shiver, as she +drew her tattered little shawl the closer around her benumbed body. + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" answered the wind; "but why are you +out in this storm? You should be at home by the warm fire." + +"I have no home," said Barbara; and then she sighed bitterly, and +something like a tiny pearl came in the corner of one of her sad blue +eyes. + +But the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street +to throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was struggling +along with a huge basket of good things on each arm. + +"Why are you not at the cathedral?" asked a snowflake, as it alighted on +Barbara's shoulder. "I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights there +as I floated down from the sky a moment ago." + +"What are they doing at the cathedral?" inquired Barbara. + +"Why, haven't you heard?" exclaimed the snowflake. "I supposed everybody +knew that the prince was coming to-morrow." + +"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve," said Barbara, "and the prince +will come to-morrow." + +Barbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how +beautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the +little children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to tell +Barbara of the prince and his coming,--none but the little snowflake. + +"I should like to see the prince," said Barbara, "for I have heard he +was very beautiful and good." + +"That he is," said the snowflake. "I have never seen him, but I heard +the pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest +to-night." + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" cried the wind, returning boisterously to where +Barbara stood. "I've been looking for you everywhere, little snowflake! +So come with me." + +And without any further ado, the wind seized upon the snowflake and +hurried it along the street and led it a merry dance through the icy air +of the winter night. + +Barbara trudged on through the snow and looked in at the bright things +in the shop windows. The glitter of the lights and the sparkle of the +vast array of beautiful Christmas toys quite dazzled her. A strange +mingling of admiration, regret, and envy filled the poor little +creature's heart. + +"Much as I may yearn to have them, it cannot be," she said to herself, +"yet I may feast my eyes upon them." + +"Go away from here!" said a harsh voice. + +"How can the rich people see all my fine things if you stand before the +window? Be off with you, you miserable little beggar!" + +It was the shop-keeper, and he gave Barbara a savage box on the ear that +sent her reeling into the deeper snowdrifts of the gutter. + +Presently she came to a large house where there seemed to be much mirth +and festivity. The shutters were thrown open, and through the windows +Barbara could see a beautiful Christmas tree in the centre of a spacious +room,--a beautiful Christmas tree ablaze with red and green lights, and +heavy with toys and stars and glass balls, and other beautiful things +that children love. There was a merry throng around the tree, and the +children were smiling and gleeful, and all in that house seemed content +and happy. Barbara heard them singing, and their song was about the +prince who was to come on the morrow. + +"This must be the house where the prince will stop," thought Barbara. +"How I would like to see his face and hear his voice!--yet what would he +care for _me_, a 'miserable little beggar'?" + +So Barbara crept on through the storm, shivering and disconsolate, yet +thinking of the prince. + +"Where are you going?" she asked of the wind as it overtook her. + +"To the cathedral," laughed the wind. "The great people are flocking +there, and I will have a merry time amongst them, ha, ha, ha!" + +And with laughter the wind whirled away and chased the snow toward the +cathedral. + +"It is there, then, that the prince will come," thought Barbara. "It is +a beautiful place, and the people will pay him homage there. Perhaps I +shall see him if I go there." + +So she went to the cathedral. Many folk were there in their richest +apparel, and the organ rolled out its grand music, and the people sang +wondrous songs, and the priests made eloquent prayers; and the music, +and the songs, and the prayers were all about the prince and his +expected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice +talked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara +really loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the +people say of him. + +"Please, can I go and sit inside?" inquired Barbara of the sexton. + +"No!" said the sexton, gruffly, for this was an important occasion with +the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child. + +"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please may I not +see the prince?" + +"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you for +the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and don't be +blocking up the doorway!" So the sexton gave Barbara an angry push, and +the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the cathedral. She began +to cry. Some great people were entering the cathedral at the time, and +they laughed to see her falling. + +"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on Barbara's +cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to her shawl an +hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his boisterous search. + +"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara, in tears; "but what cares the prince for +_me_?" + +"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little snowflake. "Go to the +forest and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the +forest to the city." + +Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In the +forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would not +see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines. + +"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once more; +and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to streaming +in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek and sent it +spinning through the air. + +Barbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the +watchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked +her who she was and where she was going. + +"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest," said she, boldly. + +"Into the forest?" cried the watchman, "and in this storm? No, child; +you will perish!" + +"But I am going to see the prince," said Barbara. "They will not let me +watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so I am +going into the forest." + +The watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his own +little girl at home. + +"No, you must not go to the forest," said he, "for you would perish with +the cold." + +But Barbara would not stay. She avoided the watchman's grasp and ran as +fast as ever she could through the city gate. + +"Come back, come back!" cried the watchman; "you will perish in the +forest!" + +But Barbara would not heed his cry. The falling snow did not stay her, +nor did the cutting blast. She thought only of the prince, and she ran +straightway to the forest. + + +II. + +"What do you see up there, O pine-tree?" asked a little vine in the +forest. "You lift your head among the clouds to-night, and you tremble +strangely as if you saw wondrous sights." + +"I see only the distant hill-tops and the dark clouds," answered the +pine-tree. "And the wind sings of the snow-king to-night; to all my +questionings he says, 'Snow, snow, snow,' till I am wearied with his +refrain." + +"But the prince will surely come to-morrow?" inquired the tiny snowdrop +that nestled close to the vine. + +"Oh, yes," said the vine. "I heard the country folks talking about it as +they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince would +surely come on the morrow." + +"What are you little folks down there talking about?" asked the +pine-tree. + +"We are talking about the prince," said the vine. + +"Yes, he is to come on the morrow," said the pine-tree, "but not until +the day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east." + +"Yes," said the fir-tree, "the east is black, and only the wind and the +snow issue from it." + +"Keep your head out of my way!" cried the pine-tree to the fir; "with +your constant bobbing around I can hardly see at all." + +"Take _that_ for your bad manners," retorted the fir, slapping the +pine-tree savagely with one of her longest branches. + +The pine-tree would put up with no such treatment, so he hurled his +largest cone at the fir; and for a moment or two it looked as if there +were going to be a serious commotion in the forest. + +"Hush!" cried the vine in a startled tone; "there is some one coming +through the forest." + +The pine-tree and the fir stopped quarrelling, and the snowdrop nestled +closer to the vine, while the vine hugged the pine-tree very tightly. +All were greatly alarmed. + +"Nonsense!" said the pine-tree, in a tone of assumed bravery. "No one +would venture into the forest at such an hour." + +"Indeed! and why not?" cried a child's voice. "Will you not let me watch +with you for the coming of the prince?" + +"Will you not chop me down?" inquired the pine-tree, gruffly. + +"Will you not tear me from my tree?" asked the vine. + +"Will you not pluck my blossoms?" plaintively piped the snowdrop. + +"No, of course not," said Barbara; "I have come only to watch with you +for the prince." + +Then Barbara told them who she was, and how cruelly she had been treated +in the city, and how she longed to see the prince, who was to come on +the morrow. And as she talked, the forest and all therein felt a great +compassion for her. + +"Lie at my feet," said the pine-tree, "and I will protect you." + +"Nestle close to me, and I will chafe your temples and body and limbs +till they are warm," said the vine. + +"Let me rest upon your cheek, and I will sing you my little songs," said +the snowdrop. + +And Barbara felt very grateful for all these homely kindnesses. She +rested in the velvety snow at the foot of the pine-tree, and the vine +chafed her body and limbs, and the little flower sang sweet songs to +her. + +"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" There was that noisy wind again, but this time +it was gentler than it had been in the city. + +"Here you are, my little Barbara," said the wind, in kindly tones. "I +have brought you the little snowflake. I am glad you came away from the +city, for the people are proud and haughty there; oh, but I will have my +fun with them!" + +Then, having dropped the little snowflake on Barbara's cheek, the wind +whisked off to the city again. And we can imagine that it played rare +pranks with the proud, haughty folk on its return; for the wind, as you +know, is no respecter of persons. + +"Dear Barbara," said the snowflake, "I will watch with thee for the +coming of the prince." + +And Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so +pure and innocent and gentle. + +"Tell us, O pine-tree," cried the vine, "what do you see in the east? +Has the prince yet entered the forest?" + +"The east is full of black clouds," said the pine-tree, "and the winds +that hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow." + +"But the city is full of brightness," said the fir. "I can see the +lights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the prince +and his coming." + +"Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral," said Barbara, +sadly. + +"But we shall see him first," whispered the vine, reassuringly. + +"Yes, the prince will come through the forest," said the little +snowdrop, gleefully. + +"Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory," +cried the snowflake. + +Then all at once there was a strange hubbub in the forest; for it was +midnight, and the spirits came from their hiding-places to prowl about +and to disport themselves. Barbara beheld them all in great wonder and +trepidation, for she had never before seen the spirits of the forest, +although she had often heard of them. It was a marvellous sight. + +"Fear nothing," whispered the vine to Barbara,--"fear nothing, for they +dare not touch you." + +The antics of the wood-spirits continued but an hour; for then a cock +crowed, and immediately thereat, with a wondrous scurrying, the elves +and the gnomes and the other grotesque spirits sought their abiding +places in the caves and in the hollow trunks and under the loose bark of +the trees. And then it was very quiet once more in the forest. + +"It is very cold," said Barbara. "My hands and feet are like ice." + +Then the pine-tree and the fir shook down the snow from their broad +boughs, and the snow fell upon Barbara and covered her like a white +mantle. + +"You will be warm now," said the vine, kissing Barbara's forehead. And +Barbara smiled. + +Then the snowdrop sang a lullaby about the moss that loved the violet. +And Barbara said, "I am going to sleep; will you wake me when the prince +comes through the forest?" + +And they said they would. So Barbara fell asleep. + + +III. + +"The bells in the city are ringing merrily," said the fir, "and the +music in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before. Can it +be that the prince has already come into the city?" + +"No," cried the pine-tree, "look to the east and see the Christmas day +a-dawning! The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the forest!" + +The storm had ceased. Snow lay upon all the earth. The hills, the +forest, the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the +storm-king had thrown over them. Content with his wondrous work, the +storm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of +the Christmas day. Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful. +And most beautiful was the great hymn of praise the forest sang that +Christmas morning,--the pine-trees and the firs and the vines and the +snow-flowers that sang of the prince and of his promised coming. + +"Wake up, little one," cried the vine, "for the prince is coming!" + +But Barbara slept; she did not hear the vine's soft calling, nor the +lofty music of the forest. + +A little snow-bird flew down from the fir-tree's bough and perched upon +the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning and of +the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear the carol +of the bird. + +"Alas!" sighed the vine, "Barbara will not awaken, and the prince is +coming." + +Then the vine and the snowdrop wept, and the pine-tree and the fir were +very sad. + +The prince came through the forest clad in royal raiment and wearing a +golden crown. Angels came with him, and the forest sang a great hymn +unto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been heard on earth. +The prince came to the sleeping child and smiled upon her and called her +by name. + +"Barbara, my little one," said the prince, "awaken, and come with me." + +Then Barbara opened her eyes and beheld the prince. And it seemed as if +a new life had come to her, for there was warmth in her body, and a +flush upon her cheeks and a light in her eyes that were divine. And she +was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and upon +the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels wear. And +as Barbara arose and went to the prince, the little snowflake fell from +her cheek upon her bosom, and forthwith became a pearl more precious +than all other jewels upon earth. + +And the prince took Barbara in his arms and blessed her, and turning +round about, returned with the little child unto his home, while the +forest and the sky and the angels sang a wondrous song. + +The city waited for the prince, but he did not come. None knew of the +glory of the forest that Christmas morning, nor of the new life that +came to little Barbara. + + +_Come thou, dear Prince, oh, come to us this holy Christmas time! Come +to the busy marts of earth, the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the +humble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch every human heart, +that we may know that love, and in its blessed peace bear charity to all +mankind!_ + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Mouse and the Moonbeam. + + + + +THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM. + + +Whilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-Soul, strange things happened; +but that I saw and heard them, I should never have believed them. The +clock stood, of course, in the corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the +floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner +and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. +The little mauve mouse was particularly merry; sometimes she danced upon +two legs and sometimes upon four legs, but always very daintily and +always very merrily. + +"Ah, me!" sighed the old clock, "how different mice are nowadays from +the mice we used to have in the good old times! Now there was your +grandma, Mistress Velvetpaw, and there was your grandpa, Master +Sniffwhisker,--how grave and dignified they were! Many a night have I +seen them dancing upon the carpet below me, but always the stately +minuet and never that crazy frisking which you are executing now, to my +surprise--yes, and to my horror, too." + +"But why shouldn't I be merry?" asked the little mauve mouse. "To-morrow +is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve." + +"So it is," said the old clock. "I had really forgotten all about it. +But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss Mauve Mouse?" + +"A great deal to me!" cried the little mauve mouse. "I have been very +good a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor have I gnawed +any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I worried my +mother by running behind the flour-barrel where that horrid trap is set. +In fact, I have been so good that I'm very sure Santa Claus will bring +me something very pretty." + +This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact, the old clock fell +to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck twelve +instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and therefore to be +reprehended. + +"Why, you silly little mauve mouse," said the old clock, "you don't +believe in Santa Claus, do you?" + +"Of course I do," answered the little mauve mouse. "Believe in Santa +Claus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a beautiful +butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a +delicious rind of cheese, and--and--lots of things? I should be very +ungrateful if I did _not_ believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly +shall not disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him +to arrive with a bundle of goodies for me. + +"I once had a little sister," continued the little mauve mouse, "who did +not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the fate that befell +her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers stand on end. She died +before I was born, but my mother has told me all about her. Perhaps you +never saw her; her name was Squeaknibble, and she was in stature one of +those long, low, rangey mice that are seldom found in well-stocked +pantries. Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who +came from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people and +the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed. Squeaknibble +seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most conspicuous of which +was a disposition to sneer at some of the most respected dogmas in +mousedom. From her very infancy she doubted, for example, the widely +accepted theory that the moon was composed of green cheese; and this +heresy was the first intimation her parents had of the sceptical turn of +her mind. Of course, her parents were vastly annoyed, for their maturer +natures saw that this youthful scepticism portended serious, if not +fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the sagacious couple reason and +plead with their headstrong and heretical child. + +"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was any such +archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the contrary one +memorable night, on which occasion she lost two inches of her beautiful +tail, and received so terrible a fright that for fully an hour afterward +her little heart beat so violently as to lift her off her feet and bump +her head against the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my +sister of so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same +brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this room, +crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be asleep, hoping, +forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated presence, will venture +within reach of her diabolical claws. So enraged was this ferocious +monster at the escape of my sister that she ground her fangs viciously +together, and vowed to take no pleasure in life until she held in her +devouring jaws the innocent little mouse which belonged to the mangled +bit of tail she even then clutched in her remorseless claws." + +"Yes," said the old clock, "now that you recall the incident, I +recollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and I remember +that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her awkwardness. My +reproaches irritated her; she told me that a clock's duty was to run +itself down, _not_ to be depreciating the merits of others! Yes, I +recall the time; that cat's tongue is fully as sharp as her claws." + +"Be that as it may," said the little mauve mouse, "it is a matter of +history, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that very moment the +cat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as if that one little +two-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had filled the cat with a +consuming passion, or appetite, for the rest of Squeaknibble. So the cat +waited and watched and hunted and schemed and devised and did everything +possible for a cat--a cruel cat--to do in order to gain her murderous +ends. One night--one fatal Christmas eve--our mother had undressed the +children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep earlier than +usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus would bring each of +them something very palatable and nice before morning. Thereupon the +little dears whisked their cunning tails, pricked up their beautiful +ears, and began telling one another what they hoped Santa Claus would +bring. One asked for a slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, +another for Sap Sago, and a fourth for Edam; one expressed a preference +for de Brie, while another hoped to get Parmesan; one clamored for +imperial blue Stilton, and another craved the fragrant boon of Caprera. +There were fourteen little ones then, and consequently there were +diverse opinions as to the kind of gift which Santa Claus should best +bring; still, there was, as you can readily understand, an enthusiastic +unanimity upon this point, namely, that the gift should be cheese of +some brand or other. + +"'My dears,' said our mother, 'what matters it whether the boon which +Santa Claus brings be royal English cheddar or fromage de Bricquebec, +Vermont sage, or Herkimer County skim-milk? We should be content with +whatsoever Santa Claus bestows, so long as it be cheese, disjoined from +all traps whatsoever, unmixed with Paris green, and free from glass, +strychnine, and other harmful ingredients. As for myself, I shall be +satisfied with a cut of nice, fresh Western reserve; for truly I +recognize in no other viand or edible half the fragrance or half the +gustfulness to be met with in one of these pale but aromatic domestic +products. So run away to your dreams now, that Santa Claus may find you +sleeping.' + +"The children obeyed,--all but Squeaknibble. 'Let the others think what +they please,' said she, 'but _I_ don't believe in Santa Claus. I'm not +going to bed, either. I'm going to creep out of this dark hole and have +a quiet romp, all by myself, in the moonlight.' Oh, what a vain, +foolish, wicked little mouse was Squeaknibble! But I will not reproach +the dead; her punishment came all too swiftly. Now listen: who do you +suppose overheard her talking so disrespectfully of Santa Claus?" + +"Why, Santa Claus himself," said the old clock. + +"Oh, no," answered the little mauve mouse. "It was that wicked, +murderous cat! Just as Satan lurks and lies in wait for bad children, so +does the cruel cat lurk and lie in wait for naughty little mice. And you +can depend upon it that, when that awful cat heard Squeaknibble speak so +disrespectfully of Santa Claus, her wicked eyes glowed with joy, her +sharp teeth watered, and her bristling fur emitted electric sparks as +big as marrowfat peas. Then what did that blood-thirsty monster do but +scuttle as fast as she could into Dear-my-Soul's room, leap up into +Dear-my-Soul's crib, and walk off with the pretty little white muff +which Dear-my-Soul used to wear when she went for a visit to the little +girl in the next block! What upon earth did the horrid old cat want with +Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white muff? Ah, the duplicity, the +diabolical ingenuity of that cat! Listen. + +"In the first place," resumed the little mauve mouse, after a pause that +testified eloquently to the depth of her emotion,--"in the first place, +that wretched cat dressed herself up in that pretty little white muff, +by which you are to understand that she crawled through the muff just so +far as to leave her four cruel legs at liberty." + +"Yes, I understand," said the old clock. + +"Then she put on the boy doll's fur cap," said the little mauve mouse, +"and when she was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and Dear-my-Soul's +pretty little white muff, of course she didn't look like a cruel cat at +all. But whom did she look like?" + +"Like the boy doll," suggested the old clock. + +"No, no!" cried the little mauve mouse. + +"Like Dear-my-Soul?" asked the old clock. + +"How stupid you are!" exclaimed the little mauve mouse. "Why, she +looked like Santa Claus, of course!" + +"Oh, yes; I see," said the old clock. "Now I begin to be interested; go +on." + +"Alas!" sighed the little mauve mouse, "not much remains to be told; but +there is more of my story left than there was of Squeaknibble when that +horrid cat crawled out of that miserable disguise. You are to understand +that, contrary to her sagacious mother's injunction, and in notorious +derision of the mooted coming of Santa Claus, Squeaknibble issued from +the friendly hole in the chimney corner, and gambolled about over this +very carpet, and, I dare say, in this very moonlight." + +"I do not know," said the moonbeam, faintly. "I am so very old, and I +have seen so many things--I do not know." + +"Right merrily was Squeaknibble gambolling," continued the little mauve +mouse, "and she had just turned a double back somersault without the use +of what remained of her tail, when, all of a sudden, she beheld, looming +up like a monster ghost, a figure all in white fur! Oh, how frightened +she was, and how her little heart did beat! 'Purr, purr-r-r,' said the +ghost in white fur. 'Oh, please don't hurt me!' pleaded Squeaknibble. +'No; I'll not hurt you,' said the ghost in white fur; 'I'm Santa Claus, +and I've brought you a beautiful piece of savory old cheese, you dear +little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was deceived; a sceptic all her +life, she was at last befooled by the most palpable and most fatal of +frauds. 'How good of you!' said Squeaknibble. 'I didn't believe there +was a Santa Claus, and--' but before she could say more she was seized +by two sharp, cruel claws that conveyed her crushed body to the +murderous mouth of mousedom's most malignant foe. I can dwell no longer +upon this harrowing scene. Suffice it to say that ere the morrow's sun +rose like a big yellow Herkimer County cheese upon the spot where that +tragedy had been enacted, poor Squeaknibble passed to that bourn whence +two inches of her beautiful tail had preceded her by the space of three +weeks to a day. As for Santa Claus, when he came that Christmas eve, +bringing morceaux de Brie and of Stilton for the other little mice, he +heard with sorrow of Squeaknibble's fate; and ere he departed he said +that in all his experience he had never known of a mouse or of a child +that had prospered after once saying that he didn't believe in Santa +Claus." + +"Well, that is a remarkable story," said the old clock. "But if you +believe in Santa Claus, why aren't you in bed?" + +"That's where I shall be presently," answered the little mauve mouse, +"but I must have my scamper, you know. It is very pleasant, I assure +you, to frolic in the light of the moon; only I cannot understand why +you are always so cold and so solemn and so still, you pale, pretty +little moonbeam." + +"Indeed, I do not know that I am so," said the moonbeam. "But I am very +old, and I have travelled many, many leagues, and I have seen wondrous +things. Sometimes I toss upon the ocean, sometimes I fall upon a +slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon a dead child's face. I see the +fairies at their play, and I hear mothers singing lullabies. Last night +I swept across the frozen bosom of a river. A woman's face looked up at +me; it was the picture of eternal rest. 'She is sleeping,' said the +frozen river. 'I rock her to and fro, and sing to her. Pass gently by, O +moonbeam; pass gently by, lest you awaken her.'" + +"How strangely you talk," said the old clock. "Now, I'll warrant me +that, if you wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and wonderful +story. You must know many a Christmas tale; pray, tell us one to wear +away this night of Christmas watching." + +"I know but one," said the moonbeam. "I have told it over and over +again, in every land and in every home; yet I do not weary of it. It is +very simple. Should you like to hear it?" + +"Indeed we should," said the old clock; "but before you begin, let me +strike twelve; for I shouldn't want to interrupt you." + +When the old clock had performed this duty with somewhat more than usual +alacrity, the moonbeam began its story:-- + +"Upon a time--so long ago that I can't tell how long ago it was--I fell +upon a hillside. It was in a far distant country; this I know, because, +although it was the Christmas time, it was not in that country as it is +wont to be in countries to the north. Hither the snow-king never came; +flowers bloomed all the year, and at all times the lambs found pleasant +pasturage on the hillsides. The night wind was balmy, and there was a +fragrance of cedar in its breath. There were violets on the hillside, +and I fell amongst them and lay there. I kissed them, and they awakened. +'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' they said, and they nestled in the +grass which the lambs had left uncropped. + +"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hillside; above him spread an +olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed its rusty +branches majestically in the shifting air of night. The shepherd's name +was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he had fallen asleep; his crook +had slipped from his hand. Upon the hillside, too, slept the shepherd's +flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen across their +gentle faces and brought them pleasant dreams of green pastures and of +cool water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he lay slumbering +there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King come upon +earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's name. + +"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have come in +good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things come to pass.' + +"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked. + +"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said the +violets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old olive-tree, +'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall walk upon the +hillside in the glory of the midnight hour.' So we waited and watched; +one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars peeped out; the +shepherd nodded and crooned and crooned and nodded, and at last he, too, +went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his keeping. Then we called +to the old olive-tree yonder, asking how soon the midnight hour would +come; but all the old olive-tree answered was 'Presently, presently,' +and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by our long watching, and +lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old olive-tree in the breezes +of the night. + +"'But who is this Master?' I asked. + +"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the little +Master by the others. He comes here often, and plays among the flowers +of the hillside. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have +crushed and bruised us so that we lie bleeding and are like to die; but +the little Master heals our wounds and refreshes us once again.' + +"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at hand,' +said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of whom you +speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of the hillside, and sang songs +one to another. + +"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not far +hence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float away out into the +mists and clouds, if you will come with me.' + +"But I hid under the violets and amid the tall grass, that the night +wind might not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old olive-tree!' +cried the violets; 'do you see the little Master coming? Is not the +midnight hour at hand?' + +"'I can see the town yonder,' said the old olive-tree. 'A star beams +bright over Bethlehem, the iron gates swing open, and the little Master +comes.' + +"Two children came to the hillside. The one, older than his comrade, was +Dimas, the son of Benoni. He was rugged and sinewy, and over his brown +shoulders was flung a goatskin; a leathern cap did not confine his long, +dark curly hair. The other child was he whom they called the little +Master; about his slender form clung raiment white as snow, and around +his face of heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So beautiful +a child I had not seen before, nor have I ever since seen such as he. +And as they came together to the hillside, there seemed to glow about +the little Master's head a soft white light, as if the moon had sent its +tenderest, fairest beams to kiss those golden curls. + +"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding fearful. + +"'Have no fear, Dimas,' said the little Master. 'Give me thy hand, and I +will lead thee.' + +"Presently they came to the rock whereon Benoni, the shepherd, lay; and +they stood under the old olive-tree, and the old olive-tree swayed no +longer in the night wind, but bent its branches reverently in the +presence of the little Master. It seemed as if the wind, too, stayed in +its shifting course just then; for suddenly there was a solemn hush, and +you could hear no noise, except that in his dreams Benoni spoke the +Messiah's name. + +"'Thy father sleeps,' said the little Master, 'and it is well that it is +so; for that I love thee, Dimas, and that thou shalt walk with me in my +Father's kingdom, I would show thee the glories of my birthright.' + +"Then all at once sweet music filled the air, and light, greater than +the light of day, illumined the sky and fell upon all that hillside. The +heavens opened, and angels, singing joyous songs, walked to the earth. +More wondrous still, the stars, falling from their places in the sky, +clustered upon the old olive-tree, and swung hither and thither like +colored lanterns. The flowers of the hillside all awakened, and they, +too, danced and sang. The angels, coming hither, hung gold and silver +and jewels and precious stones upon the old olive, where swung the +stars; so that the glory of that sight, though I might live forever, I +shall never see again. When Dimas heard and saw these things he fell +upon his knees, and catching the hem of the little Master's garment, he +kissed it. + +"'Greater joy than this shall be thine, Dimas,' said the little Master; +'but first must all things be fulfilled.' + +"All through that Christmas night did the angels come and go with their +sweet anthems; all through that Christmas night did the stars dance and +sing; and when it came my time to steal away, the hillside was still +beautiful with the glory and the music of heaven." + +"Well, is that all?" asked the old clock. + +"No," said the moonbeam; "but I am nearly done. The years went on. +Sometimes I tossed upon the ocean's bosom, sometimes I scampered o'er a +battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead child's face. I heard the +voices of Darkness and mothers' lullabies and sick men's prayers,--and +so the years went on. + +"I fell one night upon a hard and furrowed face. It was of ghostly +pallor. A thief was dying on the cross, and this was his wretched face. +About the cross stood men with staves and swords and spears, but none +paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond this cross another was lifted +up, and upon it was stretched a human body my light fell not upon. But I +heard a voice that somewhere I had heard before,--though where I did not +know,--and this voice blessed those that railed and jeered and +shamefully entreated. And suddenly the voice called 'Dimas, Dimas!' and +the thief upon whose hardened face I rested made answer. + +"Then I saw that it was Dimas; yet to this wicked criminal there +remained but little of the shepherd child whom I had seen in all his +innocence upon the hillside. Long years of sinful life had seared their +marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that familiar voice, +somewhat of the old-time boyish look came back, and in the yearning of +the anguished eyes I seemed to see the shepherd's son again. + +"'The Master!' cried Dimas, and he stretched forth his neck that he +might see him that spake. + +"'O Dimas, how art thou changed!' cried the Master, yet there was in +his voice no tone of rebuke save that which cometh of love. + +"Then Dimas wept, and in that hour he forgot his pain. And the Master's +consoling voice and the Master's presence there wrought in the dying +criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his head fell upon his +bosom, and the men about the cross said that he was dead, it seemed as +if I shined not upon a felon's face, but upon the face of the gentle +shepherd lad, the son of Benoni. + +"And shining on that dead and peaceful face, I bethought me of the +little Master's words that he had spoken under the old olive-tree upon +the hillside: 'Your eyes behold the promised glory now, O Dimas,' I +whispered, 'for with the Master you walk in Paradise.'" + + * * * * * + +Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know--you know whereof the moonbeam spake. +The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, the old +olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hillside are withered, and none +knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again, there +shined a star over Bethlehem, and the angels descended from the sky to +earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the bells,--hear them, +little Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are ringing,--the bells bear us +the good tidings of great joy this Christmas morning, that our Christ is +born, and that with him he bringeth peace on earth and good-will toward +men. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Divell's Chrystmass. + + + + +THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASS. + + +It befell that on a time ye Divell did walk to and fro upon ye earth, +having in his mind full evill cogitations how that he might do despight; +for of soche nature is ye Divell, and ever hath been, that continually +doth he go about among men, being so dispositioned that it sufficeth him +not that men sholde of their own forwardness, and by cause of the guile +born in them, turn unto his wickedness, but rather that he sholde by his +crewel artifices and diabolical machinations tempt them at all times and +upon every hand to do his fiendly plaisaunce. + +But it so fortuned that this time wherein ye Divell so walked upon ye +earth was ye Chrystmass time; and wit ye well that how evill soever ye +harte of man ben at other seasons, it is tofilled at ye Chrystmass time +with charity and love, like as if it ben sanctified by ye exceeding +holiness of that feast. Leastwise, this moche we know, that, whereas at +other times envy and worldliness do prevail, for a verity our natures +are toched at ye Chrystmass time as by ye hand of divinity, and +conditioned for merciful deeds unto our fellow kind. Right wroth was ye +Divell, therefore, when that he knew this ben ye Chrystmass time. And as +rage doth often confirm in ye human harte an evill purpose, so was ye +Divell now more diabolically minded to work his unclean will, and full +hejeously fell he to roar and lash his ribald legs with his poyson +taile. But ye Divell did presently conceive that naught might he +accomplish by this means, since that men, affrighted by his roaring and +astonied by ye fumes of brimstone and ye sulphur flames issuing from his +mouth, wolde flee therefrom; whereas by subtile craft and by words of +specious guile it more frequently befalls that ye Divell seduceth men +and lureth them into his toils. So then ye Divell did in a little season +feign to be in a full plaisaunt mind and of sweet purpose; and when that +he had girt him about with an hermit's cloak, so that none might see his +cloven feet and his poyson taile, right briskly did he fare him on his +journey, and he did sing ye while a plaisaunt tune, like he had ben full +of joyous contentation. + +Now it befell that presently in his journey he did meet with a frere, +Dan Dennyss, an holy man that fared him to a neighboring town for deeds +of charity and godliness. Unto him spake ye Divell full courteysely, and +required of him that he might bear him company; to which ye frere gave +answer in seemly wise, that, if so be that he ben of friendly +disposition, he wolde make him joy of his companionship and +conversation. Then, whiles that they journeyed together, began ye Divell +to discourse of theologies and hidden mysteries, and of conjurations, +and of negromancy and of magick, and of Chaldee, and of astrology, and +of chymistry, and of other occult and forbidden sciences, wherein ye +Divell and all that ply his damnable arts are mightily learned and +practised. Now wit ye well that this frere, being an holy man and a +simple, and having an eye single to ye blessed works of his calling, was +presently mightily troubled in his mind by ye artifices of ye Divell, +and his harte began to waver and to be filled with miserable doubtings; +for knowing nothing of ye things whereof ye Divell spake, he colde not +make answer thereto, nor, being of godly cogitation and practice, had he +ye confutations wherewith to meet ye abhominable argumentations of ye +fiend. + +Yet (and now shall I tell you of a special Providence) it did fortune, +whiles yet ye Divell discoursed in this profane wise, there was +vouchsafed unto ye frere a certain power to resist ye evill that +environed him; for of a sodaine he did cast his doubtings and his +misgivings to ye winds, and did fall upon ye Divell and did buffet him +full sore, crying, "Thou art ye Divell! Get thee gone!" And ye frere +plucked ye cloake from ye Divell and saw ye cloven feet and ye poyson +taile, and straightway ye Divell ran roaring away. But ye frere fared +upon his journey, for that he had had a successful issue from this +grevious temptation, with thanksgiving and prayse. + +Next came ye Divell into a town wherein were many people going to and +fro upon works of charity, and doing righteous practices; and sorely +did it repent ye Divell when that he saw ye people bent upon ye giving +of alms and ye doing of charitable deeds. Therefore with mighty +diligence did ye Divell apply himself to poyson ye minds of ye people, +shewing unto them in artful wise how that by idleness or by righteous +dispensation had ye poore become poore, and that, soche being ye will of +God, it was an evill and rebellious thing against God to seeke to +minister consolation unto these poore peoples. Soche like specious +argumentations did ye Divell use to gain his diabolical ends; but by +means of a grace whereof none then knew ye source, these men and these +women unto whom ye Divell spake his hejeous heresies presently +discovered force to withstand these fiendly temptations, and to continue +in their Chrystianly practices, to ye glory of their faith and to ye +benefite of ye needy, but to ye exceeding discomfiture of ye Divell; for +ye which discomfiture I do give hearty thanks, and so also shall all of +you, if so be that your hartes within you be of rightful disposition. + +All that day long fared ye Divell to and fro among ye people of ye town, +but none colde he bring into his hellish way of cogitation. Nor do I +count this to be a marvellous thing; for, as I myself have herein shewn +and as eche of us doth truly know, how can there be a place for ye +Divell upon earth during this Chrystmass time when in ye very air that +we breathe abideth a certain love and concord sent of heaven for the +controul and edification of mankind, filling human hartes with peace and +inclining human hands to ye delectable and blessed employments of +charity? Nay, but you shall know that all this very season whereof I +speak ye holy Chrystchilde himself did follow ye Divell upon earth, +forefending the crewel evills which ye Divell fain wolde do and girding +with confidence and love ye else frail natures of men. Soothly it is +known of common report among you that when ye Chrystmass season comes +upon ye earth there cometh with it also the spirit of our Chryst +himself, that in ye similitude of a little childe descendeth from heaven +and walketh among men. And if so be that by any chance ye Divell is +minded to issue from his foul pit at soche a time, wit ye well that +wheresoever ye fiend fareth to do his diabolical plaisaunce there also +close at hand followeth ye gentle Chrystchilde; so that ye Divell, try +how hard soever he may, hath no power at soche a time over the hartes of +men. + +Nay, but you shall know furthermore that of soche sweete quality and of +so great efficacy is this heavenly spirit of charity at ye Chrystmass +season, that oftentimes is ye Divell himself made to do a kindly deed. +So at this time of ye which I you tell, ye Divell, walking upon ye earth +with evill purpose, become finally overcome by ye gracious desire to +give an alms; but nony alms had ye Divell to give, sith it is wisely +ordained that ye Divell's offices shall be confined to his domain. Right +grievously tormented therefore was ye Divell, in that he had nought of +alms to bestow; but when presently he did meet with a beggar childe that +besought him charity, ye Divell whipped out a knife and cut off his own +taile, which taile ye Divell gave to ye beggar childe, for he had not +else to give for a lyttle trinket toy to make merry with. Now wit ye +well that this poyson instrument brought no evill to ye beggar childe, +for by a sodaine miracle it ben changed into a flowre of gold, ye which +gave great joy unto ye beggar childe and unto all them that saw this +miracle how that it had ben wrought, but not by ye Divell. Then returned +ye Divell unto his pit of fire; and since that day, whereupon befell +this thing of which I speak, ye Divell hath had nony taile at all, as +you that hath scene ye same shall truly testify. + +But all that day long walked ye Chrystchilde upon ye earth, unseen to ye +people but toching their hartes with his swete love and turning their +hands to charity; and all felt that ye Chrystchilde was with them. So it +was plaisaunt to do ye Chrystchilde's will, to succor ye needy, to +comfort ye afflicted, and to lift up ye oppressed. Most plaisauntest of +all was it to make merry with ye lyttle children, sithence of soche is +ye kingdom whence ye Chrystchilde cometh. + +Behold, ye season is again at hand; once more ye snows of winter lie +upon all ye earth, and all Chrystantie is arrayed to the holy feast. + +Presently shall ye star burn with exceeding brightness in ye east, ye +sky shall be full of swete music, ye angels shall descend to earth with +singing, and ye bells--ye joyous Chrystmass bells--shall tell us of ye +babe that was born in Bethlehem. + +Come to us now, O gentle Chrystchilde, and walke among us peoples of ye +earth; enwheel us round about with thy protecting care; forefend all +envious thoughts and evil deeds; toche thou our hearts with the glory of +thy love, and quicken us to practices of peace, good-will, and charity +meet for thy approval and acceptation. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Mountain and the Sea. + + + + +THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA. + + +Once upon a time the air, the mountain, and the sea lived undisturbed +upon all the earth. The mountain alone was immovable; he stood always +here upon his rocky foundation, and the sea rippled and foamed at his +feet, while the air danced freely over his head and about his grim face. +It came to pass that both the sea and the air loved the mountain, but +the mountain loved the sea. + +"Dance on forever, O air," said the mountain; "dance on and sing your +merry songs. But I love the gentle sea, who in sweet humility crouches +at my feet or playfully dashes her white spray against my brown bosom." + +Now the sea was full of joy when she heard these words, and her thousand +voices sang softly with delight. But the air was filled with rage and +jealousy, and she swore a terrible revenge. + +"The mountain shall not wed the sea," muttered the envious air. "Enjoy +your triumph while you may, O slumberous sister; I will steal you from +your haughty lover!" + +And it came to pass that ever after that the air each day caught up huge +parts of the sea and sent them floating forever through the air in the +shape of clouds. So each day the sea receded from the feet of the +mountain, and her tuneful waves played no more around his majestic base. + +"Whither art thou going, my love?" cried the mountain, in dismay. + +"She is false to thee," laughed the air, mockingly. "She is going to +another love far away." + +But the mountain would not believe it. He towered his head aloft and +cried more beseechingly than before: "Oh, whither art thou going, my +beloved? I do not hear thy sweet voice, nor do thy soft white arms +compass me about." + +Then the sea cried out in an agony of helpless love. But the mountain +heard her not, for the air refused to bring the words she said. + +"She is false!" whispered the air. "I alone am true to thee." + +But the mountain believed her not. Day after day he reared his massive +head aloft and turned his honest face to the receding sea and begged her +to return; day after day the sea threw up her snowy arms and uttered the +wildest lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; and day by day the +sea receded farther and farther from the mountain's base. Where she once +had spread her fair surface appeared fertile plains and verdant groves +all peopled with living things, whose voices the air brought to the +mountain's ears in the hope that they might distract the mountain from +his mourning. + +But the mountain would not be comforted; he lifted his sturdy head +aloft, and his sorrowing face was turned ever toward the fleeting object +of his love. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and other mountains +separated them now, but over and beyond them all he could see her fair +face lifted pleadingly toward him, while her white arms tossed wildly to +and fro. But he did not know what words she said, for the envious air +would not bear her messages to him. + +Then many ages came and went, until now the sea was far distant, so very +distant that the mountain could not behold her,--nay, had he been ten +thousand times as lofty he could not have seen her, she was so far away. +But still, as of old, the mountain stood with his majestic head high in +the sky, and his face turned whither he had seen her fading like a dream +away. + +"Come back, come back, O my beloved!" he cried and cried. + +And the sea, a thousand miles or more away, still thought forever of the +mountain. Vainly she peered over the western horizon for a glimpse of +his proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far +beyond; forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, and other mountains +intervened. Her watching was as hopeless as her love. + +"She is false!" whispered the air to the mountain. "She is false, and +she has gone to another lover. I alone am true!" + +But the mountain believed her not. And one day clouds came floating +through the sky and hovered around the mountain's crest. + +"Who art thou," cried the mountain,--"who art thou that thou fill'st me +with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my beloved's, and +thy kisses are like her kisses." + +"We come from the sea," answered the clouds. "She loves thee, and she +has sent us to bid thee be courageous, for she will come back to thee." + +Then the clouds covered the mountain and bathed him with the glory of +the sea's true love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever +after that the clouds came each day with love-messages from the sea, and +oftentimes the clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender words the +mountain spoke. + +And so the ages come and go, the mountain rearing his giant head aloft, +and his brown, honest face turned whither the sea departed; the sea +stretching forth her arms to the distant mountain and repeating his dear +name with her thousand voices. + +Stand on the beach and look upon the sea's majestic calm and hear her +murmurings; or see her when, in the frenzy of her hopeless love, she +surges wildly and tosses her white arms and shrieks,--then you shall +know how the sea loves the distant mountain. + +The mountain is old and sear; the storms have beaten upon his breast, +and great scars and seams and wrinkles are on his sturdy head and honest +face. But he towers majestically aloft, and he looks always toward the +distant sea and waits for her promised coming. + +And so the ages come and go, but love is eternal. + + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Robin and the Violet. + + + + +THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET. + + +Once upon a time a robin lived in the greenwood. Of all the birds his +breast was the brightest, his music was the sweetest, and his life was +the merriest. Every morning and evening he perched himself among the +berries of the linden-tree, and carolled a song that made the whole +forest joyous; and all day long he fluttered among the flowers and +shrubbery of the wild-wood, and twittered gayly to the brooks, the +ferns, and the lichens. + +A violet grew among the mosses at the foot of the linden-tree where +lived the robin. She was so very tiny and so very modest that few knew +there was such a pretty little creature in the world. Withal she was so +beautiful and so gentle that those who knew the violet loved her very +dearly. + +The south wind came wooing the violet. He danced through the shrubbery +and ferns, and lingered on the velvet moss where the little flower grew. +But when he kissed her pretty face and whispered to her, she hung her +head and said, "No, no; it cannot be." + +"Nay, little violet, do not be so cruel," pleaded the south wind; "let +me bear you as my bride away to my splendid home in the south, where all +is warmth and sunshine always." + +But the violet kept repeating, "No, it cannot be; no, it cannot be," +till at last the south wind stole away with a very heavy heart. + +And the rose exclaimed, in an outburst of disgustful indignation: "What +a foolish violet! How silly of her to refuse such a wooer as the south +wind, who has a beautiful home and a patrimony of eternal warmth and +sunshine!" + +But the violet, as soon as the south wind had gone, looked up at the +robin perched in the linden-tree and singing his clear song; and it +seemed as if she blushed and as if she were thrilled with a great +emotion as she beheld him. But the robin did not see the violet. His +eyes were turned the other way, and he sang to the clouds in the sky. + +The brook o'erleapt its banks one day, and straying toward the +linden-tree, it was amazed at the loveliness of the violet. Never had it +seen any flower half so beautiful. + +"Oh, come and be my bride," cried the brook. "I am young and small now, +but presently you shall see me grow to a mighty river whose course no +human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast thyself +upon my bosom, sweet violet, and let us float together to that great +destiny which awaits me." + +But the violet shuddered and recoiled and said: "Nay, nay, impetuous +brook, I will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs and complaints, +the brook crept back to its jealous banks and resumed its devious and +prattling way to the sea. + +"Bless me!" cried the daisy, "only to think of that silly violet's +refusing the brook! Was there ever another such piece of folly! Where +else is there a flower that would not have been glad to go upon such a +wonderful career? Oh, how short-sighted some folks are!" + +But the violet paid no heed to these words; she looked steadfastly up +into the foliage of the linden-tree where the robin was carolling. The +robin did not see the violet; he was singing to the tops of the +fir-trees over yonder. + +The days came and went. The robin sang and fluttered in the greenwood, +and the violet bided among the mosses at the foot of the linden; and +although the violet's face was turned always upward to where the robin +perched and sang, the robin never saw the tender little flower. + +One day a huntsman came through the greenwood, and an arrow from his +cruel bow struck the robin and pierced his heart. The robin was +carolling in the linden, but his song was ended suddenly, and the +innocent bird fell dying from the tree. "Oh, it is only a robin," said +the huntsman, and with a careless laugh he went on his way. + +The robin lay upon the mosses at the foot of the linden, close beside +the violet. But he neither saw nor heard anything, for his life was +nearly gone. The violet tried to bind his wound and stay the flow of his +heart's blood, but her tender services were vain. The robin died +without having seen her sweet face or heard her gentle voice. + +Then the other birds of the greenwood came to mourn over their dead +friend. The moles and the mice dug a little grave and laid the robin in +it, after which the birds brought lichens and leaves, and covered the +dead body, and heaped earth over all, and made a great lamentation. But +when they went away, the violet remained; and after the sun had set, and +the greenwood all was dark, the violet bent over the robin's grave and +kissed it, and sang to the dead robin. And the violet watched by the +robin's grave for weeks and months, her face pressed forward toward that +tiny mound, and her gentle voice always singing softly and sweetly about +the love she never had dared to tell. + +Often after that the south wind and the brook came wooing her, but she +never heard them, or, if she heard them, she did not answer. The vine +that lived near the chestnut yonder said the violet was greatly changed; +that from being a merry, happy thing, she had grown sad and reticent; +she used to hold up her head as proudly as the others, but now she +seemed broken and weary. The shrubs and flowers talked it all over many +and many a time, but none of them could explain the violet's strange +conduct. + +It was autumn now, and the greenwood was not what it had been. The birds +had flown elsewhere to be the guests of the storks during the winter +months, the rose had run away to be the bride of the south wind, and the +daisy had wedded the brook and was taking a bridal tour to the seaside +watering-places. But the violet still lingered in the greenwood, and +kept her vigil at the grave of the robin. She was pale and drooping, but +still she watched and sang over the spot where her love lay buried. Each +day she grew weaker and paler. The oak begged her to come and live among +the warm lichens that protected him from the icy breath of the +storm-king, but the violet chose to watch and sing over the robin's +grave. + +One morning, after a night of exceeding darkness and frost, the +boisterous north wind came trampling through the greenwood. + +"I have come for the violet," he cried; "she would not have my fair +brother, but she must go with _me_, whether it pleases her or not!" + +But when he came to the foot of the linden-tree his anger was changed to +compassion. The violet was dead, and she lay upon the robin's grave. Her +gentle face rested close to the little mound, as if, in her last moment, +the faithful flower had stretched forth her lips to kiss the dust that +covered her beloved. + + +1884. + + * * * * * + +The Oak-tree and the Ivy. + + + + +THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY. + + +In the greenwood stood a mighty oak. So majestic was he that all who +came that way paused to admire his strength and beauty, and all the +other trees of the greenwood acknowledged him to be their monarch. + +Now it came to pass that the ivy loved the oak-tree, and inclining her +graceful tendrils where he stood, she crept about his feet and twined +herself around his sturdy and knotted trunk. And the oak-tree pitied the +ivy. + +"Oho!" he cried, laughing boisterously, but good-naturedly,--"oho! so +you love me, do you, little vine? Very well, then; play about my feet, +and I will keep the storms from you and will tell you pretty stories +about the clouds, the birds, and the stars." + +The ivy marvelled greatly at the strange stories the oak-tree told; they +were stories the oak-tree heard from the wind that loitered about his +lofty head and whispered to the leaves of his topmost branches. +Sometimes the story was about the great ocean in the East, sometimes of +the broad prairies in the West, sometimes of the ice-king who lived in +the North, and sometimes of the flower-queen who dwelt in the South. +Then, too, the moon told a story to the oak-tree every night,--or at +least every night that she came to the greenwood, which was very often, +for the greenwood is a very charming spot, as we all know. And the +oak-tree repeated to the ivy every story the moon told and every song +the stars sang. + +"Pray, what are the winds saying now?" or "What song is that I hear?" +the ivy would ask; and then the oak-tree would repeat the story or the +song, and the ivy would listen in great wonderment. + +Whenever the storms came, the oak-tree cried to the little ivy: "Cling +close to me, and no harm shall befall you! See how strong I am; the +tempest does not so much as stir me--I mock its fury!" + +Then, seeing how strong and brave he was, the ivy hugged him closely; +his brown, rugged breast protected her from every harm, and she was +secure. + +The years went by; how quickly they flew,--spring, summer, winter, and +then again spring, summer, winter,--ah, life is short in the greenwood +as elsewhere! And now the ivy was no longer a weakly little vine to +excite the pity of the passer-by. Her thousand beautiful arms had twined +hither and thither about the oak-tree, covering his brown and knotted +trunk, shooting forth a bright, delicious foliage and stretching far up +among his lower branches. Then the oak-tree's pity grew into a love for +the ivy, and the ivy was filled with a great joy. And the oak-tree and +the ivy were wed one June night, and there was a wonderful celebration +in the greenwood; and there was the most beautiful music, in which the +pine-trees, the crickets, the katydids, the frogs, and the nightingales +joined with pleasing harmony. + +The oak-tree was always good and gentle to the ivy. "There is a storm +coming over the hills," he would say. "The east wind tells me so; the +swallows fly low in the air, and the sky is dark. Cling close to me, my +beloved, and no harm shall befall you." + +Then, confidently and with an always-growing love, the ivy would cling +more closely to the oak-tree, and no harm came to her. + +"How good the oak-tree is to the ivy!" said the other trees of the +greenwood. The ivy heard them, and she loved the oak-tree more and more. +And, although the ivy was now the most umbrageous and luxuriant vine in +all the greenwood, the oak-tree regarded her still as the tender little +thing he had laughingly called to his feet that spring day, many years +before,--the same little ivy he had told about the stars, the clouds, +and the birds. And, just as patiently as in those days he had told her +of these things, he now repeated other tales the winds whispered to his +topmost boughs,--tales of the ocean in the East, the prairies in the +West, the ice-king in the North, and the flower-queen in the South. +Nestling upon his brave breast and in his stout arms, the ivy heard him +tell these wondrous things, and she never wearied with the listening. + +"How the oak-tree loves her!" said the ash. "The lazy vine has naught +to do but to twine herself about the arrogant oak-tree and hear him tell +his wondrous stories!" + +The ivy heard these envious words, and they made her very sad; but she +said nothing of them to the oak-tree, and that night the oak-tree rocked +her to sleep as he repeated the lullaby a zephyr was singing to him. + +"There is a storm coming over the hills," said the oak-tree one day. +"The east wind tells me so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky +is dark. Clasp me round about with thy dear arms, my beloved, and nestle +close unto my bosom, and no harm shall befall thee." + +"I have no fear," murmured the ivy; and she clasped her arms most +closely about him and nestled unto his bosom. + +The storm came over the hills and swept down upon the greenwood with +deafening thunder and vivid lightning. The storm-king himself rode upon +the blast; his horses breathed flames, and his chariot trailed through +the air like a serpent of fire. The ash fell before the violence of the +storm-king's fury, and the cedars groaning fell, and the hemlocks and +the pines; but the oak-tree alone quailed not. + +"Oho!" cried the storm-king, angrily, "the oak-tree does not bow to me, +he does not tremble in my presence. Well, we shall see." + +With that, the storm-king hurled a mighty thunderbolt at the oak-tree, +and the brave, strong monarch of the greenwood was riven. Then, with a +shout of triumph, the storm-king rode away. + +"Dear oak-tree, you are riven by the storm-king's thunderbolt!" cried +the ivy, in anguish. + +"Ay," said the oak-tree, feebly, "my end has come; see, I am shattered +and helpless." + +"But _I_ am unhurt," remonstrated the ivy, "and I will bind up your +wounds and nurse you back to health and vigor." + +And so it was that, although the oak-tree was ever afterward a riven and +broken thing, the ivy concealed the scars upon his shattered form and +covered his wounds all over with her soft foliage. + +"I had hoped, dear one," she said, "to grow up to thy height, to live +with thee among the clouds, and to hear the solemn voices thou didst +hear. Thou wouldst have loved me better then?" + +But the old oak-tree said: "Nay, nay, my beloved; I love thee better as +thou art, for with thy beauty and thy love thou comfortest mine age." + +Then would the ivy tell quaint stories to the old and broken +oak-tree,--stories she had learned from the crickets, the bees, the +butterflies, and the mice when she was an humble little vine and played +at the foot of the majestic oak-tree, towering in the greenwood with no +thought of the tiny shoot that crept toward him with her love. And these +simple tales pleased the old and riven oak-tree; they were not as heroic +as the tales the winds, the clouds, and the stars told, but they were +far sweeter, for they were tales of contentment, of humility, of love. + +So the old age of the oak-tree was grander than his youth. + +And all who went through the greenwood paused to behold and admire the +beauty of the oak-tree then; for about his seared and broken trunk the +gentle vine had so entwined her graceful tendrils and spread her fair +foliage, that one saw not the havoc of the years nor the ruin of the +tempest, but only the glory of the oak-tree's age, which was the ivy's +love and ministering. + +1886. + + * * * * * + +Margaret: A Pearl. + + + + +MARGARET: A PEARL. + + +In a certain part of the sea, very many leagues from here, there once +lived a large family of oysters noted for their beauty and size. But +among them was one so small, so feeble, and so ill-looking as to excite +the pity, if not the contempt, of all the others. The father, a +venerable, bearded oyster, of august appearance and solemn deportment, +was much mortified that one of his family should happen to be so sickly; +and he sent for all the doctors in the sea to come and treat her; from +which circumstance you are to note that doctors are an evil to be met +with not alone upon _terra firma_. The first to come was Dr. Porpoise, a +gentleman of the old school, who floundered around in a very important +manner and was full of imposing ceremonies. + +"Let me look at your tongue," said Dr. Porpoise, stroking his beard with +one fin, impressively. "Ahem! somewhat coated, I see. And your pulse is +far from normal; no appetite, I presume? Yes, my dear, your system is +sadly out of order. You need medicine." + +The little oyster hated medicine; so she cried,--yes, she actually shed +cold, briny tears at the very thought of taking old Dr. Porpoise's +prescriptions. But the father-oyster and the mother-oyster chided her +sternly; they said that the medicine would be nice and sweet, and that +the little oyster would like it. But the little oyster knew better than +all that; yes, she knew a thing or two, even though she _was_ only a +little oyster. + +Now Dr. Porpoise put a plaster on the little oyster's chest and a +blister at her feet. He bade her eat nothing but a tiny bit of sea-foam +on toast twice a day. Every two hours she was to take a spoonful of +cod-liver oil, and before each meal a wineglassful of the essence of +distilled cuttlefish. The plaster she didn't mind, but the blister and +the cod-liver oil were terrible; and when it came to the essence of +distilled cuttlefish--well, she just couldn't stand it! In vain her +mother reasoned with her, and promised her a new doll and a +skipping-rope and a lot of other nice things: the little oyster would +have none of the horrid drug; until at last her father, abandoning his +dignity in order to maintain his authority, had to hold her down by main +strength and pour the medicine into her mouth. This was, as you will +allow, quite dreadful. + +But this treatment did the little oyster no good; and her parents made +up their minds that they would send for another doctor, and one of a +different school. Fortunately they were in a position to indulge in +almost any expense, since the father-oyster himself was president of one +of the largest banks of Newfoundland. So Dr. Sculpin came with his neat +little medicine-box under his arm. And when he had looked at the sick +little oyster's tongue, and had taken her temperature, and had felt her +pulse, he said he knew what ailed her; but he did not tell anybody what +it was. He threw away the plasters, the blisters, the cod-liver oil, and +the essence of distilled cuttlefish, and said it was a wonder that the +poor child had lived through it all! + +"Will you please bring me two tumblerfuls of water?" he remarked to the +mother-oyster. + +The mother-oyster scuttled away, and soon returned with two conch-shells +filled to the brim with pure, clear sea-water. Dr. Sculpin counted three +grains of white sand into one shell, and three grains of yellow sand +into the other shell, with great care. + +"Now," said he to the mother-oyster, "I have numbered these 1 and 2. +First, you are to give the patient ten drops out of No. 2, and in an +hour after that, eight drops out of No. 1; the next hour, eight drops +out of No. 2; and the next, or fourth, hour, ten drops out of No. 1. And +so you are to continue hour by hour, until either the medicine or the +child gives out." + +"Tell me, doctor," asked the mother, "shall she continue the food +suggested by Dr. Porpoise?" + +"What food did he recommend?" inquired Dr. Sculpin. + +"Sea-foam on toast," answered the mother. + +Dr. Sculpin smiled a smile which seemed to suggest that Dr. Porpoise's +ignorance was really quite annoying. + +"My dear madam," said Dr. Sculpin, "the diet suggested by that quack, +Porpoise, passed out of the books years ago. Give the child toast on +sea-foam, if you wish to build up her debilitated forces." + +Now, the sick little oyster did not object to this treatment; on the +contrary, she liked it. But it did her no good. And one day, when she +was feeling very dry, she drank both tumblerfuls of medicine, and it did +not do her any harm; neither did it cure her: she remained the same sick +little oyster,--oh, so sick! This pained her parents very much. They did +not know what to do. They took her travelling; they gave her into the +care of the eel for electric treatment; they sent her to the Gulf Stream +for warm baths,--they tried everything, but to no avail. The sick little +oyster remained a sick little oyster, and there was an end of it. + +At last one day,--one cruel, fatal day,--a horrid, fierce-looking +machine was poked down from the surface of the water far above, and +with slow but intrepid movement began exploring every nook and crevice +of the oyster village. There was not a family into which it did not +intrude, nor a home circle whose sanctity it did not ruthlessly invade. +It scraped along the great mossy rock; and lo! with a monstrous +scratchy-te-scratch, the mother-oyster and the father-oyster and +hundreds of other oysters were torn from their resting-places and borne +aloft in a very jumbled and very frightened condition by the impertinent +machine. Then down it came again, and the sick little oyster was among +the number of those who were seized by the horrid monster this time. She +found herself raised to the top of the sea; and all at once she was +bumped in a boat, where she lay, puny and helpless, on a huge pile of +other oysters. Two men were handling the fierce-looking machine. A +little boy sat in the stern of the boat watching the huge pile of +oysters. He was a pretty little boy, with bright eyes and long tangled +hair. He wore no hat, and his feet were bare and brown. + +"What a funny little oyster!" said the boy, picking up the sick little +oyster; "it is no bigger than my thumb, and it is very pale." + +"Throw it away," said one of the men. "Like as not it is bad and not fit +to eat." + +"No, keep it and send it out West for a Blue Point," said the other +man,--what a heartless wretch he was! + +But the little boy had already thrown the sick little oyster overboard. +She fell in shallow water, and the rising tide carried her still farther +toward shore, until she lodged against an old gum boot that lay half +buried in the sand. There were no other oysters in sight. Her head ached +and she was very weak; how lonesome, too, she was!--yet anything was +better than being eaten,--at least so thought the little oyster, and so, +I presume, think you. + +For many weeks and many months the sick little oyster lay hard by the +old gum boot; and in that time she made many acquaintances and friends +among the crabs, the lobsters, the fiddlers, the star-fish, the waves, +the shells, and the gay little fishes of the ocean. They did not harm +her, for they saw that she was sick; they pitied her--some loved her. +The one that loved her most was the perch with green fins that attended +school every day in the academic shade of the big rocks in the quiet +cove about a mile away. He was very gentle and attentive, and every +afternoon he brought fresh cool sea-foam for the sick oyster to eat; he +told her pretty stories, too,--stories which his grandmother, the +venerable codfish, had told him of the sea king, the mermaids, the +pixies, the water sprites, and the other fantastically beautiful +dwellers in ocean-depths. Now while all this was very pleasant, the sick +little oyster knew that the perch's wooing was hopeless, for she was +very ill and helpless, and could never think of becoming a burden upon +one so young and so promising as the gallant perch with green fins. But +when she spoke to him in this strain, he would not listen; he kept right +on bringing her more and more cool sea-foam every day. + +The old gum boot was quite a motherly creature, and anon the sick little +oyster became very much attached to her. Many times as the little +invalid rested her aching head affectionately on the instep of the old +gum boot, the old gum boot told her stories of the world beyond the +sea: how she had been born in a mighty forest, and how proud her folks +were of their family tree; how she had been taken from that forest and +moulded into the shape she now bore; how she had graced and served a +foot in amphibious capacities, until at last, having seen many things +and having travelled much, she had been cast off and hurled into the sea +to be the scorn of every crab and the derision of every fish. These +stories were all new to the little oyster, and amazing, too; she knew +only of the sea, having lived therein all her life. She in turn told the +old gum boot quaint legends of the ocean,--the simple tales she had +heard in her early home; and there was a sweetness and a simplicity in +these stories of the deep that charmed the old gum boot, shrivelled and +hardened and pessimistic though she was. + +Yet, in spite of it all,--the kindness, the care, the amusements, and +the devotion of her friends,--the little oyster remained always a sick +and fragile thing. But no one heard her complain, for she bore her +suffering patiently. + +Not far from this beach where the ocean ended its long travels there was +a city, and in this city there dwelt with her parents a maiden of the +name of Margaret. From infancy she had been sickly, and although she had +now reached the years of early womanhood, she could not run or walk +about as others did, but she had to be wheeled hither and thither in a +chair. This was very sad; yet Margaret was so gentle and uncomplaining +that from aught she said you never would have thought her life was full +of suffering. Seeing her helplessness, the sympathetic things of Nature +had compassion and were very good to Margaret. The sunbeams stole across +her pathway everywhere, the grass clustered thickest and greenest where +she went, the winds caressed her gently as they passed, and the birds +loved to perch near her window and sing their prettiest songs. Margaret +loved them all,--the sunlight, the singing winds, the grass, the +carolling birds. She communed with them; their wisdom inspired her life, +and this wisdom gave her nature a rare beauty. + +Every pleasant day Margaret was wheeled from her home in the city down +to the beach, and there for hours she would sit, looking out, far out +upon the ocean, as if she were communing with the ocean spirits that +lifted up their white arms from the restless waters and beckoned her to +come. Oftentimes the children playing on the beach came where Margaret +sat, and heard her tell little stories of the pebbles and the shells, of +the ships away out at sea, of the ever-speeding gulls, of the grass, of +the flowers, and of the other beautiful things of life; and so in time +the children came to love Margaret. Among those who so often gathered to +hear the gentle sick girl tell her pretty stories was a youth of +Margaret's age,--older than the others, a youth with sturdy frame and a +face full of candor and earnestness. His name was Edward, and he was a +student in the city; he hoped to become a great scholar sometime, and he +toiled very zealously to that end. The patience, the gentleness, the +sweet simplicity, the fortitude of the sick girl charmed him. He found +in her little stories a quaint and beautiful philosophy he never yet had +found in books; there was a valor in her life he never yet had read of +in the histories. So, every day she came and sat upon the beach, Edward +came too; and with the children he heard Margaret's stories of the sea, +the air, the grass, the birds, and the flowers. + +From her moist eyrie in the surf the old gum boot descried the group +upon the beach each pleasant day. Now the old gum boot had seen enough +of the world to know a thing or two, as we presently shall see. + +"That tall young man is not a child," quoth the old gum boot, "yet he +comes every day with the children to hear the sick girl tell her +stories! Ah, ha!" + +"Perhaps he is the doctor," suggested the little oyster; and then she +added with a sigh, "but, oh! I hope not." + +This suggestion seemed to amuse the old gum boot highly; at least she +fell into such hysterical laughter that she sprung a leak near her +little toe, which, considering her environments, was a serious mishap. + +"Unless I am greatly mistaken, my child," said the old gum boot to the +little oyster, "that young man is in love with the sick girl!" + +"Oh, how terrible!" said the little oyster; and she meant it too, for +she was thinking of the gallant young perch with green fins. + +"Well, I've said it, and I mean it!" continued the old gum boot; "now +just wait and see." + +The old gum boot had guessed aright--so much for the value of worldly +experience! Edward loved Margaret; to him she was the most beautiful, +the most perfect being in the world; her very words seemed to exalt his +nature. Yet he never spoke to her of love. He was content to come with +the children to hear her stories, to look upon her sweet face, and to +worship her in silence. Was not that a very wondrous love? + +In course of time the sick girl Margaret became more interested in the +little ones that thronged daily to hear her pretty stories, and she put +her beautiful fancies into the little songs and quaint poems and tender +legends,--songs and poems and legends about the sea, the flowers, the +birds, and the other beautiful creations of Nature; and in all there was +a sweet simplicity, a delicacy, a reverence, that bespoke Margaret's +spiritual purity and wisdom. In this teaching, and marvelling ever at +its beauty, Edward grew to manhood. She was his inspiration, yet he +never spoke of love to Margaret. And so the years went by. + +Beginning with the children, the world came to know the sick girl's +power. Her songs were sung in every home, and in every home her verses +and her little stories were repeated. And so it was that Margaret came +to be beloved of all, but he who loved her best spoke never of his love +to her. + +And as these years went by, the sick little oyster lay in the sea +cuddled close to the old gum boot. She was wearier now than ever before, +for there was no cure for her malady. The gallant perch with green fins +was very sad, for his wooing had been hopeless. Still he was devoted, +and still he came each day to the little oyster, bringing her cool +sea-foam and other delicacies of the ocean. Oh, how sick the little +oyster was! But the end came at last. + +The children were on the beach one day, waiting for Margaret, and they +wondered that she did not come. Presently, grown restless, many of the +boys scampered into the water and stood there, with their trousers +rolled up, boldly daring the little waves that rippled up from the +overflow of the surf. And one little boy happened upon the old gum boot. +It was a great discovery. + +"See the old gum boot," cried the boy, fishing it out of the water and +holding it on high. "And here is a little oyster fastened to it! How +funny!" + +The children gathered round the curious object on the beach. None of +them had ever seen such a funny old gum boot, and surely none of them +had ever seen such a funny little oyster. They tore the pale, knotted +little thing from her foster-mother, and handled her with such rough +curiosity that even had she been a robust oyster she must certainly have +died. At any rate, the little oyster was dead now; and the bereaved +perch with green fins must have known it, for he swam up and down his +native cove disconsolately. + +It befell in that same hour that Margaret lay upon her deathbed, and +knowing that she had not long to live, she sent for Edward. And Edward, +when he came to her, was filled with anguish, and clasping her hands in +his, he told her of his love. + +Then Margaret answered him: "I knew it, dear one; and all the songs I +have sung and all the words I have spoken and all the prayers I have +made have been with you, dear one,--all with _you_ in my heart of +hearts." + +"You have purified and exalted my life," cried Edward; "you have been my +best and sweetest inspiration; you have taught me the eternal +truth,--you are my beloved!" + +And Margaret said: "Then in my weakness hath there been a wondrous +strength, and from my sufferings cometh the glory I have sought--" + +So Margaret died, and like a broken lily she lay upon her couch; and all +the sweetness of her pure and gentle life seemed to come down and rest +upon her face; and the songs she had sung and the beautiful stories she +had told were back, too, on angel wings, and made sweet music in that +chamber. + +The children were lingering on the beach when Edward came that day. He +could hear them singing the songs Margaret had taught them. They +wondered that he came alone. + +"See," cried one of the boys, running to meet him and holding a tiny +shell in his hand,--"see what we have found in this strange little +shell. Is it not beautiful!" + +Edward took the dwarfed, misshapen thing and lo! it held a beauteous +pearl. + +_O little sister mine, let me look into your eyes and read an +inspiration there; let me hold your thin white hand and know the +strength of a philosophy more beautiful than human knowledge teaches; +let me see in your dear, patient little face and hear in your gentle +voice the untold valor of your suffering life. Come, little sister, let +me fold you in my arms and have you ever with me, that in the glory of +your faith and love I may walk the paths of wisdom and of peace._ + +1887. + + * * * * * + +The Springtime. + + + + +THE SPRINGTIME. + + +A child once said to his grandsire: "Gran'pa, what do the flowers mean +when they talk to the old oak-tree about death? I hear them talking +every day, but I cannot understand; it is all very strange." + +The grandsire bade the child think no more of these things; the flowers +were foolish prattlers,--what right had they to put such notions into a +child's head? But the child did not do his grandsire's bidding; he loved +the flowers and the trees, and he went each day to hear them talk. + +It seems that the little vine down by the stone-wall had overheard the +south wind say to the rosebush: "You are a proud, imperious beauty now, +and will not listen to my suit; but wait till my boisterous brother +comes from the North,--then you will droop and wither and die, all +because you would not listen to me and fly with me to my home by the +Southern sea." + +These words set the little vine to thinking; and when she had thought +for a long time she spoke to the daisy about it, and the daisy called in +the violet, and the three little ones had a very serious conference; +but, having talked it all over, they came to the conclusion that it was +as much of a mystery as ever. The old oak-tree saw them. + +"You little folks seem very much puzzled about something," said the old +oak-tree. + +"I heard the south wind tell the rosebush that she would die," exclaimed +the vine, "and we do not understand what it is. Can you tell us what it +is to die?" + +The old oak-tree smiled sadly. + +"I do not call it death," said the old oak-tree; "I call it sleep,--a +long, restful, refreshing sleep." + +"How does it feel?" inquired the daisy, looking very full of +astonishment and anxiety. + +"You must know," said the old oak-tree, "that after many, many days we +all have had such merry times and have bloomed so long and drunk so +heartily of the dew and sunshine and eaten so much of the goodness of +the earth that we feel very weary and we long for repose. Then a great +wind comes out of the north, and we shiver in its icy blast. The +sunshine goes away, and there is no dew for us nor any nourishment in +the earth, and we are glad to go to sleep." + +"Mercy on me!" cried the vine, "I shall not like that at all! What, +leave this smiling meadow and all the pleasant grass and singing bees +and frolicsome butterflies? No, old oak-tree, I would never go to sleep; +I much prefer sporting with the winds and playing with my little +friends, the daisy and the violet." + +"And I," said the violet, "I think it would be dreadful to go to sleep. +What if we never should wake up again!" + +The suggestion struck the others dumb with terror,--all but the old +oak-tree. + +"Have no fear of that," said the old oak-tree, "for you are sure to +awaken again, and when you have awakened the new life will be sweeter +and happier than the old." + +"What nonsense!" cried the thistle. "You children shouldn't believe a +word of it. When you go to sleep you die, and when you die there's the +last of you!" + +The old oak-tree reproved the thistle; but the thistle maintained his +abominable heresy so stoutly that the little vine and the daisy and the +violet were quite at a loss to know which of the two to believe,--the +old oak-tree or the thistle. + +The child heard it all and was sorely puzzled. What was this death, this +mysterious sleep? Would it come upon him, the child? And after he had +slept awhile would he awaken? His grandsire would not tell him of these +things; perhaps his grandsire did not know. + +It was a long, long summer, full of sunshine and bird-music, and the +meadow was like a garden, and the old oak-tree looked down upon the +grass and flowers and saw that no evil befell them. A long, long +play-day it was to the little vine, the daisy, and the violet. The +crickets and the grasshoppers and the bumblebees joined in the sport, +and romped and made music till it seemed like an endless carnival. Only +every now and then the vine and her little flower friends talked with +the old oak-tree about that strange sleep and the promised awakening, +and the thistle scoffed at the old oak-tree's cheering words. The child +was there and heard it all. + +One day the great wind came out of the north. Hurry-scurry! back to +their warm homes in the earth and under the old stone-wall scampered the +crickets and bumblebees to go to sleep. Whirr, whirr! Oh, but how +piercing the great wind was; how different from his amiable brother who +had travelled all the way from the Southern sea to kiss the flowers and +woo the rose! + +"Well, this is the last of us!" exclaimed the thistle; "we're going to +die, and that's the end of it all!" + +"No, no," cried the old oak-tree; "we shall not die; we are going to +sleep. Here, take my leaves, little flowers, and you shall sleep warm +under them. Then, when you awaken, you shall see how much sweeter and +happier the new life is." + +The little ones were very weary indeed. The promised sleep came very +gratefully. + +"We would not be so willing to go to sleep if we thought we should not +awaken," said the violet. + +So the little ones went to sleep. The little vine was the last of all to +sink to her slumbers; she nodded in the wind and tried to keep awake +till she saw the old oak-tree close his eyes, but her efforts were vain; +she nodded and nodded, and bowed her slender form against the old +stone-wall, till finally she, too, had sunk into repose. And then the +old oak-tree stretched his weary limbs and gave a last look at the +sullen sky and at the slumbering little ones at his feet; and with that, +the old oak-tree fell asleep too. + +The child saw all these things, and he wanted to ask his grandsire about +them, but his grandsire would not tell him of them; perhaps his +grandsire did not know. + +The child saw the storm-king come down from the hills and ride furiously +over the meadows and over the forest and over the town. The snow fell +everywhere, and the north wind played solemn music in the chimneys. The +storm-king put the brook to bed, and threw a great mantle of snow over +him; and the brook that had romped and prattled all the summer and told +pretty tales to the grass and flowers,--the brook went to sleep too. With +all his fierceness and bluster, the storm-king was very kind; he did not +awaken the old oak-tree and the slumbering flowers. The little vine lay +under the fleecy snow against the old stone-wall and slept peacefully, +and so did the violet and the daisy. Only the wicked old thistle +thrashed about in his sleep as if he dreamt bad dreams, which, all will +allow, was no more than he deserved. + +All through that winter--and it seemed very long--the child thought of +the flowers and the vine and the old oak-tree, and wondered whether in +the springtime they would awaken from their sleep; and he wished for the +springtime to come. And at last the springtime came. One day the +sunbeams fluttered down from the sky and danced all over the meadow. + +"Wake up, little friends!" cried the sunbeams,--"wake up, for it is the +springtime!" + +The brook was the first to respond. So eager, so fresh, so exuberant was +he after his long winter sleep, that he leaped from his bed and +frolicked all over the meadow and played all sorts of curious antics. +Then a little bluebird was seen in the hedge one morning. He was +calling to the violet. + +"Wake up, little violet," called the bluebird. "Have I come all this +distance to find you sleeping? Wake up; it is the springtime!" + +That pretty little voice awakened the violet, of course. + +"Oh, how sweetly I have slept!" cried the violet; "how happy this new +life is! Welcome, dear friends!" + +And presently the daisy awakened, fresh and beautiful, and then the +little vine, and, last of all, the old oak-tree. The meadow was green, +and all around there were the music, the fragrance, the new, sweet life +of the springtime. + +"I slept horribly," growled the thistle. "I had bad dreams. It was +sleep, after all, but it ought to have been death." + +The thistle never complained again; for just then a four-footed monster +stalked through the meadow and plucked and ate the thistle and then +stalked gloomily away; which was the last of the sceptical +thistle,--truly a most miserable end! + +"You said the truth, dear old oak-tree!" cried the little vine. "It was +not death,--it was only a sleep, a sweet, refreshing sleep, and this +awakening is very beautiful." + +They all said so,--the daisy, the violet, the oak-tree, the crickets, +the bees, and all the things and creatures of the field and forest that +had awakened from their long sleep to swell the beauty and the glory of +the springtime. And they talked with the child, and the child heard +them. And although the grandsire never spoke to the child about these +things, the child learned from the flowers and trees a lesson of the +springtime which perhaps the grandsire never knew. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Rodolph and his King. + + + + +RODOLPH AND HIS KING. + + +"Tell me, Father," said the child at Rodolph's knee,--"tell me of the +king." + +"There is no king, my child," said Rodolph. "What you have heard are old +women's tales. Do not believe them, for there is no king." + +"But why, then," queried the child, "do all the people praise and call +on him; why do the birds sing of the king; and why do the brooks always +prattle his name, as they dance from the hills to the sea?" + +"Nay," answered Rodolph, "you imagine these things; there is no king. +Believe me, child, there is no king." + +So spake Rodolph; but scarcely had he uttered the words when the cricket +in the chimney corner chirped loudly, and his shrill notes seemed to +say: "The king--the king." Rodolph could hardly believe his ears. How +had the cricket learned to chirp these words? It was beyond all +understanding. But still the cricket chirped, and still his musical +monotone seemed to say, "The king--the king," until, with an angry +frown, Rodolph strode from his house, leaving the child to hear the +cricket's song alone. + +But there were other voices to remind Rodolph of the king. The sparrows +were fluttering under the eaves, and they twittered noisily as Rodolph +strode along, "The king, king, king!" "The king, king, king," twittered +the sparrows, and their little tones were full of gladness and praise. + +A thrush sat in the hedge, and she was singing her morning song. It was +a hymn of praise,--how beautiful it was! "The king--the king--the king," +sang the thrush, and she sang, too, of his goodness,--it was a wondrous +song, and it was all about the king. + +The doves cooed in the elm-trees. "Sing to us!" cried their little ones, +stretching out their pretty heads from the nests. Then the doves nestled +hard by and murmured lullabies, and the lullabies were of the king who +watched over and protected even the little birds in their nests. + +Rodolph heard these things, and they filled him with anger. + +"It is a lie!" muttered Rodolph; and in great petulance he came to the +brook. + +How noisy and romping the brook was; how capricious, how playful, how +furtive! And how he called to the willows and prattled to the listening +grass as he scampered on his way. But Rodolph turned aside and his face +grew darker. He did not like the voice of the brook; for, lo! just as +the cricket had chirped and the birds had sung, so did this brook murmur +and prattle and sing ever of the king, the king, the king. + +So, always after that, wherever Rodolph went, he heard voices that told +him of the king; yes, even in their quiet, humble way, the flowers +seemed to whisper the king's name, and every breeze that fanned his brow +had a tale to tell of the king and his goodness. + +"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "They all conspire to plague me! +There is no king--there is no king!" + +Once he stood by the sea and saw a mighty ship go sailing by. The waves +plashed on the shore and told stories to the pebbles and the sands. +Rodolph heard their thousand voices, and he heard them telling of the +king. + +Then a great storm came upon the sea, a tempest such as never before had +been seen. The waves dashed mountain-high and overwhelmed the ship, and +the giant voices of the winds and waves cried of the king, the king! The +sailors strove in agony till all seemed lost. Then, when they could do +no more, they stretched out their hands and called upon the king to save +them,--the king, the king, the king! + +Rodolph saw the tempest subside. The angry winds were lulled, and the +mountain waves sank into sleep, and the ship came safely into port. Then +the sailors sang a hymn of praise, and the hymn was of the king and to +the king. + +"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "It is a lie; there is no king!" + +Yet everywhere he went he heard always of the king; the king's name and +the king's praises were on every tongue; aye, and the things that had no +voices seemed to wear the king's name written upon them, until Rodolph +neither saw nor heard anything that did not mind him of the king. + +Then, in great anger, Rodolph said: "I will go to the mountain-tops; +there I shall find no birds, nor trees, nor brooks, nor flowers to prate +of a monarch no one has ever seen. There shall there be no sea to vex me +with its murmurings, nor any human voice to displease me with its +superstitions." + +So Rodolph went to the mountains, and he scaled the loftiest pinnacle, +hoping that there at last he might hear no more of that king whom none +had ever seen. And as he stood upon the pinnacle, what a mighty panorama +was spread before him, and what a mighty anthem swelled upon his ears! +The peopled plains, with their songs and murmurings, lay far below; on +every side the mountain peaks loomed up in snowy grandeur; and overhead +he saw the sky, blue, cold, and cloudless, from horizon to horizon. + +What voice was that which spoke in Rodolph's bosom then as Rodolph's +eyes beheld this revelation? + +"There is a king!" said the voice. "The king lives, and this is his +abiding-place!" + +And how did Rodolph's heart stand still when he felt Silence proclaim +the king,--not in tones of thunder, as the tempest had proclaimed him, +nor in the singing voices of the birds and brooks, but so swiftly, so +surely, so grandly, that Rodolph's soul was filled with awe ineffable. + +Then Rodolph cried: "There is a king, and I acknowledge him! Henceforth +my voice shall swell the songs of all in earth and air and sea that know +and praise his name!" + +So Rodolph went to his home. He heard the cricket singing of the king; +yes, and the sparrows under the eaves, the thrush in the hedge, the +doves in the elms, and the brook, too, all singing of the king; and +Rodolph's heart was gladdened by their music. And all the earth and the +things of the earth seemed more beautiful to Rodolph now that he +believed in the king; and to the song all Nature sang Rodolph's voice +and Rodolph's heart made harmonious response. + +"There _is_ a king, my child," said Rodolph to his little one. "Together +let us sing to him, for he is _our_ king, and his goodness abideth +forever and forever." + +1885 + + * * * * * + +The Hampshire Hills. + + + + +THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS. + + +One afternoon many years ago two little brothers named Seth and Abner +were playing in the orchard. They were not troubled with the heat of the +August day, for a soft, cool wind came up from the river in the valley +over yonder and fanned their red cheeks and played all kinds of pranks +with their tangled curls. All about them was the hum of bees, the song +of birds, the smell of clover, and the merry music of the crickets. +Their little dog Fido chased them through the high, waving grass, and +rolled with them under the trees, and barked himself hoarse in his +attempt to keep pace with their laughter. Wearied at length, they lay +beneath the bellflower-tree and looked off at the Hampshire hills, and +wondered if the time ever would come when they should go out into the +world beyond those hills and be great, noisy men. Fido did not +understand it at all. He lolled in the grass, cooling his tongue on the +clover bloom, and puzzling his brain to know why his little masters were +so quiet all at once. + +"I wish I were a man," said Abner, ruefully. "I want to be somebody and +do something. It is very hard to be a little boy so long and to have no +companions but little boys and girls, to see nothing but these same old +trees and this same high grass, and to hear nothing but the same +bird-songs from one day to another." + +"That is true," said Seth. "I, too, am very tired of being a little boy, +and I long to go out into the world and be a man like my gran'pa or my +father or my uncles. With nothing to look at but those distant hills and +the river in the valley, my eyes are wearied; and I shall be very happy +when I am big enough to leave this stupid place." + +Had Fido understood their words he would have chided them, for the +little dog loved his home and had no thought of any other pleasure than +romping through the orchard and playing with his little masters all the +day. But Fido did not understand them. + +The clover bloom heard them with sadness. Had they but listened in turn +they would have heard the clover saying softly: "Stay with me while you +may, little boys; trample me with your merry feet; let me feel the +imprint of your curly heads and kiss the sunburn on your little cheeks. +Love me while you may, for when you go away you never will come back." + +The bellflower-tree heard them, too, and she waved her great, strong +branches as if she would caress the impatient little lads, and she +whispered: "Do not think of leaving me: you are children, and you know +nothing of the world beyond those distant hills. It is full of trouble +and care and sorrow; abide here in this quiet spot till you are prepared +to meet the vexations of that outer world. We are for you,--we trees and +grass and birds and bees and flowers. Abide with us, and learn the +wisdom we teach." + +The cricket in the raspberry-hedge heard them, and she chirped, oh! so +sadly: "You will go out into the world and leave us and never think of +us again till it is too late to return. Open your ears, little boys, and +hear my song of contentment." + +So spake the clover bloom and the bellflower-tree and the cricket; and +in like manner the robin that nested in the linden over yonder, and the +big bumblebee that lived in the hole under the pasture gate, and the +butterfly and the wild rose pleaded with them, each in his own way; but +the little boys did not heed them, so eager were their desires to go +into and mingle with the great world beyond those distant hills. + +Many years went by; and at last Seth and Abner grew to manhood, and the +time was come when they were to go into the world and be brave, strong +men. Fido had been dead a long time. They had made him a grave under the +bellflower-tree,--yes, just where he had romped with the two little boys +that August afternoon Fido lay sleeping amid the humming of the bees and +the perfume of the clover. But Seth and Abner did not think of Fido now, +nor did they give even a passing thought to any of their old +friends,--the bellflower-tree, the clover, the cricket, and the robin. +Their hearts beat with exultation. They were men, and they were going +beyond the hills to know and try the world. + +They were equipped for that struggle, not in a vain, frivolous way, but +as good and brave young men should be. A gentle mother had counselled +them, a prudent father had advised them, and they had gathered from the +sweet things of Nature much of that wisdom before which all knowledge is +as nothing. So they were fortified. They went beyond the hills and came +into the West. How great and busy was the world,--how great and busy it +was here in the West! What a rush and noise and turmoil and seething and +surging, and how keenly did the brothers have to watch and struggle for +vantage ground. Withal, they prospered; the counsel of the mother, the +advice of the father, the wisdom of the grass and flowers and trees, +were much to them, and they prospered. Honor and riches came to them, +and they were happy. But amid it all, how seldom they thought of the +little home among the circling hills where they had learned the first +sweet lessons of life! + +And now they were old and gray. They lived in splendid mansions, and all +people paid them honor. + +One August day a grim messenger stood in Seth's presence and beckoned to +him. + +"Who are you?" cried Seth. "What strange power have you over me that the +very sight of you chills my blood and stays the beating of my heart?" + +Then the messenger threw aside his mask, and Seth saw that he was Death. +Seth made no outcry; he knew what the summons meant, and he was content. +But he sent for Abner. + +And when Abner came, Seth was stretched upon his bed, and there was a +strange look in his eyes and a flush upon his cheeks, as though a fatal +fever had laid hold on him. + +"You shall not die!" cried Abner, and he threw himself about his +brother's neck and wept. + +But Seth bade Abner cease his outcry. "Sit here by my bedside and talk +with me," said he, "and let us speak of the Hampshire hills." + +A great wonder overcame Abner. With reverence he listened, and as he +listened, a sweet peace seemed to steal into his soul. + +"I am prepared for Death," said Seth, "and I will go with Death this +day. Let us talk of our childhood now, for, after all the battle with +this great world, it is pleasant to think and speak of our boyhood +among the Hampshire hills." + +"Say on, dear brother," said Abner. + +"I am thinking of an August day long ago," said Seth, solemnly and +softly. "It was _so very_ long ago, and yet it seems only yesterday. We +were in the orchard together, under the bellflower-tree, and our little +dog--" + +"Fido," said Abner, remembering it all, as the years came back. + +"Fido and you and I, under the bellflower-tree," said Seth. "How we had +played, and how weary we were, and how cool the grass was, and how sweet +was the fragrance of the flowers! Can you remember it, brother?" + +"Oh, yes," replied Abner, "and I remember how we lay among the clover +and looked off at the distant hills and wondered of the world beyond." + +"And amid our wonderings and longings," said Seth, "how the old +bellflower-tree seemed to stretch her kind arms down to us as if she +would hold us away from that world beyond the hills." + +"And now I can remember that the clover whispered to us, and the +cricket in the raspberry-hedge sang to us of contentment," said Abner. + +"The robin, too, carolled in the linden." + +"It is very sweet to remember it now," said Seth. "How blue and hazy the +hills looked; how cool the breeze blew up from the river; how like a +silver lake the old pickerel pond sweltered under the summer sun over +beyond the pasture and broom-corn, and how merry was the music of the +birds and bees!" + +So these old men, who had been little boys together, talked of the +August afternoon when with Fido they had romped in the orchard and +rested beneath the bellflower-tree. And Seth's voice grew fainter, and +his eyes were, oh! so dim; but to the very last he spoke of the dear old +days and the orchard and the clover and the Hampshire hills. And when +Seth fell asleep forever, Abner kissed his brother's lips and knelt at +the bedside and said the prayer his mother had taught him. + +In the street without there was the noise of passing carts, the cries of +trades-people, and all the bustle of a great and busy city; but, +looking upon Seth's dear, dead face, Abner could hear only the music +voices of birds and crickets and summer winds as he had heard them with +Seth when they were little boys together, back among the Hampshire +hills. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Ezra's Thanksgivin' out West. + + + + +EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST. + + +Ezra had written a letter to the home folks, and in it he had complained +that never before had he spent such a weary, lonesome day as this +Thanksgiving day had been. Having finished this letter, he sat for a +long time gazing idly into the open fire that snapped cinders all over +the hearthstone and sent its red forks dancing up the chimney to join +the winds that frolicked and gambolled across the Kansas prairies that +raw November night. It had rained hard all day, and was cold; and +although the open fire made every honest effort to be cheerful, Ezra, as +he sat in front of it in the wooden rocker and looked down into the +glowing embers, experienced a dreadful feeling of loneliness and +homesickness. + +"I'm sick o' Kansas," said Ezra to himself. "Here I've been in this +plaguey country for goin' on a year, and--yes, I'm sick of it, powerful +sick of it. What a miser'ble Thanksgivin' this has been! They don't know +what Thanksgivin' is out this way. I wish I was back in ol' +Mass'chusetts--that's the country for _me_, and they hev the kind o' +Thanksgivin' I like!" + +Musing in this strain, while the rain went patter-patter on the +window-panes, Ezra saw a strange sight in the fireplace,--yes, right +among the embers and the crackling flames Ezra saw a strange, beautiful +picture unfold and spread itself out like a panorama. + +"How very wonderful!" murmured the young man. Yet he did not take his +eyes away, for the picture soothed him and he loved to look upon it. + +"It is a pictur' of long ago," said Ezra, softly. "I had like to forgot +it, but now it comes back to me as nat'ral-like as an ol' friend. An' I +seem to be a part of it, an' the feelin' of that time comes back with +the pictur', too." + +Ezra did not stir. His head rested upon his hand, and his eyes were +fixed upon the shadows in the firelight. + +"It is a pictur' of the ol' home," said Ezra to himself. "I am back +there in Belchertown, with the Holyoke hills up north an' the Berkshire +mountains a loomin' up gray an' misty-like in the western horizon. Seems +as if it wuz early mornin'; everything is still, and it is so cold when +we boys crawl out o' bed that, if it wuzn't Thanksgivin' mornin', we'd +crawl back again an' wait for Mother to call us. But it _is_ +Thanksgivin' mornin', an' we're goin' skatin' down on the pond. The +squealin' o' the pigs has told us it is five o'clock, and we must hurry; +we're goin' to call by for the Dickerson boys an' Hiram Peabody, an' +we've got to hyper! Brother Amos gets on about half o' my clo'es, and I +get on 'bout half o' his, but it's all the same; they are stout, warm +clo'es, and they're big enough to fit any of us boys,--Mother looked out +for that when she made 'em. When we go downstairs we find the girls +there, all bundled up nice an' warm,--Mary an' Helen an' Cousin Irene. +They're goin' with us, an' we all start out tiptoe and quiet-like so's +not to wake up the ol' folks. The ground is frozen hard; we stub our +toes on the frozen ruts in the road. When we come to the minister's +house, Laura is standin' on the front stoop, a-waitin' for us. Laura is +the minister's daughter. She's a friend o' Sister Helen's--pretty as a +dagerr'otype, an' gentle-like and tender. Laura lets me carry her +skates, an' I'm glad of it, although I have my hands full already with +the lantern, the hockies, and the rest. Hiram Peabody keeps us waitin', +for he has overslept himself, an' when he comes trottin' out at last the +girls make fun of him,--all except Sister Mary, an' she sort o' sticks +up for Hiram, an' we're all so 'cute we kind o' calc'late we know the +reason why. + +"And now," said Ezra, softly, "the pictur' changes; seems as if I could +see the pond. The ice is like a black lookin'-glass, and Hiram Peabody +slips up the first thing, an' down he comes lickety-split, an' we all +laugh,--except Sister Mary, an' _she_ says it is very imp'lite to laugh +at other folks' misfortunes. Ough! how cold it is, and how my fingers +ache with the frost when I take off my mittens to strap on Laura's +skates! But, oh, how my cheeks burn! And how careful I am not to hurt +Laura, an' how I ask her if that's 'tight enough,' an' how she tells me +'jist a little tighter,' and how we two keep foolin' along till the +others hev gone an' we are left alone! An' how quick I get my _own_ +skates strapped on,--none o' your new-fangled skates with springs an' +plates an' clamps an' such, but honest, ol'-fashioned wooden ones with +steel runners that curl up over my toes an' have a bright brass button +on the end! How I strap 'em and lash 'em and buckle 'em on! An' Laura +waits for me an' tells me to be sure to get 'em on tight enough,--why, +bless me! after I once got 'em strapped on, if them skates hed come off, +the feet wud ha' come with 'em! An' now away we go,--Laura an' me. +Around the bend--near the medder where Si Barker's dog killed a +woodchuck last summer--we meet the rest. We forget all about the cold. +We run races an' play snap the whip, an' cut all sorts o' didoes, an' we +never mind the pick'rel weed that is froze in on the ice an' trips us up +every time we cut the outside edge; an' then we boys jump over the +air-holes, an' the girls stan' by an' scream an' tell us they know we're +agoin' to drownd ourselves. So the hours go, an' it is sun-up at last, +an' Sister Helen says we must be gettin' home. When we take our skates +off, our feet feel as if they were wood. Laura has lost her tippet; I +lend her mine, and she kind o' blushes. The old pond seems glad to have +us go, and the fire-hangbird's nest in the willer-tree waves us good-by. +Laura promises to come over to our house in the evenin', and so we break +up. + +"Seems now," continued Ezra, musingly,--"seems now as if I could see us +all at breakfast. The race on the pond has made us hungry, and Mother +says she never knew anybody else's boys that had such capac'ties as +hers. It is the Yankee Thanksgivin' breakfast,--sausages an' fried +potatoes, an' buckwheat cakes an' syrup,--maple syrup, mind ye, for +Father has his own sugar bush, and there was a big run o' sap last +season. Mother says, 'Ezry an' Amos, won't you never get through eatin'? +We want to clear off the table, for there's pies to make, an' nuts to +crack, and laws sakes alive! the turkey's got to be stuffed yit!' Then +how we all fly round! Mother sends Helen up into the attic to get a +squash while Mary's makin' the pie-crust. Amos an' I crack the +walnuts,--they call 'em hickory nuts out in this pesky country of +sagebrush and pasture land. The walnuts are hard, and it's all we can +do to crack 'em. Ev'ry once'n a while one on 'em slips outer our +fingers an' goes dancin' over the floor or flies into the pan Helen is +squeezin' pumpkin into through the col'nder. Helen says we're shif'less +an' good for nothin' but frivolin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the +walnuts so's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so's not to be +all jammed to pieces like the walnuts was down at the party at the +Peasleys' last winter. An' now here comes Tryphena Foster, with her +gingham gown an' muslin apron on; her folks have gone up to Amherst for +Thanksgivin', an' Tryphena has come over to help our folks get dinner. +She thinks a great deal o' Mother, 'cause Mother teaches her +Sunday-school class an' says Tryphena oughter marry a missionary. There +is bustle everywhere, the rattle uv pans an' the clatter of dishes; an' +the new kitch'n stove begins to warm up an' git red, till Helen loses +her wits an' is flustered, an' sez she never could git the hang o' that +stove's dampers. + +"An' now," murmured Ezra, gently, as a tone of deeper reverence crept +into his voice, "I can see Father sittin' all by himself in the parlor. +Father's hair is very gray, and there are wrinkles on his honest old +face. He is lookin' through the winder at the Holyoke hills over yonder, +and I can guess he's thinkin' of the time when he wuz a boy like me an' +Amos, an' useter climb over them hills an' kill rattlesnakes an' hunt +partridges. Or doesn't his eyes quite reach the Holyoke hills? Do they +fall kind o' lovingly but sadly on the little buryin' ground jest beyond +the village? Ah, Father knows that spot, an' he loves it, too, for there +are treasures there whose memory he wouldn't swap for all the world +could give. So, while there is a kind o' mist in Father's eyes, I can +see he is dreamin'-like of sweet an' tender things, and a-communin' with +memory,--hearin' voices I never heard an' feelin' the tech of hands I +never pressed; an' seein' Father's peaceful face I find it hard to think +of a Thanksgivin' sweeter than Father's is. + +"The pictur' in the firelight changes now," said Ezra, "an' seems as if +I wuz in the old frame meetin'-house. The meetin'-house is on the hill, +and meetin' begins at half pas' ten. Our pew is well up in front,--seems +as if I could see it now. It has a long red cushion on the seat, and in +the hymn-book rack there is a Bible an' a couple of Psalmodies. We walk +up the aisle slow, and Mother goes in first; then comes Mary, then me, +then Helen, then Amos, and then Father. Father thinks it is jest as well +to have one o' the girls set in between me an' Amos. The meetin'-house +is full, for everybody goes to meetin' Thanksgivin' day. The minister +reads the proclamation an' makes a prayer, an' then he gives out a +psalm, an' we all stan' up an' turn 'round an' join the choir. Sam +Merritt has come up from Palmer to spend Thanksgivin' with the ol' +folks, an' he is singin' tenor to-day in his ol' place in the choir. +Some folks say he sings wonderful well, but _I_ don't like Sam's voice. +Laura sings soprano in the choir, and Sam stands next to her an' holds +the book. + +"Seems as if I could hear the minister's voice, full of earnestness an' +melody, comin' from way up in his little round pulpit. He is tellin' us +why we should be thankful, an', as he quotes Scriptur' an' Dr. Watts, we +boys wonder how anybody can remember so much of the Bible. Then I get +nervous and worried. Seems to me the minister was never comin' to +lastly, and I find myself wonderin' whether Laura is listenin' to what +the preachin' is about, or is writin' notes to Sam Merritt in the back +of the tune book. I get thirsty, too, and I fidget about till Father +looks at me, and Mother nudges Helen, and Helen passes it along to me +with interest. + +"An' then," continues Ezra in his revery, "when the last hymn is given +out an' we stan' up agin an' join the choir, I am glad to see that Laura +is singin' outer the book with Miss Hubbard, the alto. An' goin' out o' +meetin' I kind of edge up to Laura and ask her if I kin have the +pleasure of seein' her home. + +"An' now we boys all go out on the Common to play ball. The Enfield boys +have come over, and, as all the Hampshire county folks know, they are +tough fellers to beat. Gorham Polly keeps tally, because he has got the +newest jack-knife,--oh, how slick it whittles the old broom-handle +Gorham picked up in Packard's store an' brought along jest to keep tally +on! It is a great game of ball; the bats are broad and light, and the +ball is small and soft. But the Enfield boys beat us at last; leastwise +they make 70 tallies to our 58, when Heman Fitts knocks the ball over +into Aunt Dorcas Eastman's yard, and Aunt Dorcas comes out an' picks up +the ball an' takes it into the house, an' we have to stop playin'. Then +Phineas Owens allows he can flop any boy in Belchertown, an' Moses Baker +takes him up, an' they wrassle like two tartars, till at last Moses +tuckers Phineas out an' downs him as slick as a whistle. + +"Then we all go home, for Thanksgivin' dinner is ready. Two long tables +have been made into one, and one of the big tablecloths Gran'ma had when +she set up housekeepin' is spread over 'em both. We all set +round,--Father, Mother, Aunt Lydia Holbrook, Uncle Jason, Mary, Helen, +Tryphena Foster, Amos, and me. How big an' brown the turkey is, and how +good it smells! There are bounteous dishes of mashed potato, turnip, an' +squash, and the celery is very white and cold, the biscuits are light +an' hot, and the stewed cranberries are red as Laura's cheeks. Amos and +I get the drumsticks; Mary wants the wish-bone to put over the door for +Hiram, but Helen gets it. Poor Mary, she always _did_ have to give up +to 'rushin' Helen,' as we call her. The pies,--oh, what pies mother +makes; no dyspepsia in 'em, but good-nature an' good health an' +hospitality! Pumpkin pies, mince an' apple too, and then a big dish of +pippins an' russets an' bellflowers, an', last of all, walnuts with +cider from the Zebrina Dickerson farm! I tell ye, there's a Thanksgivin' +dinner for ye! that's what we get in old Belchertown; an' that's the +kind of livin' that makes the Yankees so all-fired good an' smart. + +"But the best of all," said Ezra, very softly to himself,--"oh, yes, +the best scene in all the pictur' is when evenin' comes, when the +lamps are lit in the parlor, when the neighbors come in, and when +there is music an' singin' an' games. An' it's this part o' the +pictur' that makes me homesick now and fills my heart with a longin' I +never had before; an' yet it sort o' mellows an' comforts me, too. +Miss Serena Cadwell, whose beau was killed in the war, plays on the +melodeon, and we all sing,--all on us, men, womenfolks, an' children. +Sam Merritt is there, an' he sings a tenor song about love. The women +sort of whisper round that he's goin' to be married to a Palmer lady +nex' spring, an' I think to myself I never heard better singin' than +Sam's. Then we play games,--proverbs, buzz, clap-in-clap-out, +copenhagen, fox-an'-geese, button-button-who's-got-the-button, +spin-the-platter, go-to-Jerusalem, my-ship's-come-in, and all the +rest. The ol' folks play with the young folks just as nat'ral as can +be; and we all laugh when Deacon Hosea Cowles hez to measure six yards +of love ribbon with Miss Hepsy Newton, and cut each yard with a kiss; +for the deacon hez been sort o' purrin' round Miss Hepsy for goin' on +two years. Then, aft'r a while, when Mary an' Helen bring in the +cookies, nutcakes, cider, an' apples, Mother says: 'I don't b'lieve +we're goin' to hev enough apples to go round; Ezry, I guess I'll have +to get you to go down-cellar for some more.' Then I says: 'All right, +Mother, I'll go, providin' some one'll go along an' hold the candle.' +An' when I say this I look right at Laura, an' she blushes. Then +Helen, jest for meanness, says: 'Ezry, I s'pose you aint willin' to +have your fav'rite sister go down-cellar with you an' catch her death +o' cold?' But Mary, who hez been showin' Hiram Peabody the phot'graph +album for more 'n an hour, comes to the rescue an' makes Laura take +the candle, and she shows Laura how to hold it so it won't go out. + +"The cellar is warm an' dark. There are cobwebs all between the rafters +an' everywhere else except on the shelves where Mother keeps the butter +an' eggs an' other things that would freeze in the butt'ry upstairs. The +apples are in bar'ls up against the wall, near the potater-bin. How +fresh an' sweet they smell! Laura thinks she sees a mouse, an' she +trembles an' wants to jump up on the pork bar'l, but I tell her that +there sha'n't no mouse hurt her while I'm round; and I mean it, too, for +the sight of Laura a-tremblin' makes me as strong as one of Father's +steers. 'What kind of apples do you like best, Ezry?' asks +Laura,--'russets or greenin's or crow-eggs or bellflowers or Baldwins or +pippins?' 'I like the Baldwins best,' says I, ''coz they've got red +cheeks just like yours.' 'Why, Ezry Thompson! how you talk!' says Laura. +'You oughter be ashamed of yourself!' But when I get the dish filled up +with apples there aint a Baldwin in all the lot that can compare with +the bright red of Laura's cheeks. An' Laura knows it, too, an' she sees +the mouse agin, an' screams, and then the candle goes out, and we are in +a dreadful stew. But I, bein' almost a man, contrive to bear up under +it, and knowin' she is an orph'n, I comfort an' encourage Laura the best +I know how, and we are almost upstairs when Mother comes to the door and +wants to know what has kep' us so long. Jest as if Mother doesn't know! +Of course she does; an' when Mother kisses Laura good-by that night +there is in the act a tenderness that speaks more sweetly than even +Mother's words. + +"It is so like Mother," mused Ezra; "so like her with her gentleness an' +clingin' love. Hers is the sweetest picture of all, and hers the best +love." + +Dream on, Ezra; dream of the old home with its dear ones, its holy +influences, and its precious inspiration,--mother. Dream on in the +far-away firelight; and as the angel hand of memory unfolds these sacred +visions, with thee and them shall abide, like a Divine comforter, the +spirit of thanksgiving. + +1885 + + * * * * * + +Ludwig and Eloise. + + + + +LUDWIG AND ELOISE. + + +Once upon a time there were two youths named Herman and Ludwig; and they +both loved Eloise, the daughter of the old burgomaster. Now, the old +burgomaster was very rich, and having no child but Eloise, he was +anxious that she should be well married and settled in life. "For," said +he, "death is likely to come to me at any time: I am old and feeble, and +I want to see my child sheltered by another's love before I am done with +earth forever." + +Eloise was much beloved by all the youth in the village, and there was +not one who would not gladly have taken her to wife; but none loved her +so much as did Herman and Ludwig. Nor did Eloise care for any but Herman +and Ludwig, and she loved Herman. The burgomaster said: "Choose whom you +will--I care not! So long as he be honest I will have him for a son and +thank Heaven for him." + +So Eloise chose Herman, and all said she chose wisely; for Herman was +young and handsome, and by his valor had won distinction in the army, +and had thrice been complimented by the general. So when the brave young +captain led Eloise to the altar there was great rejoicing in the +village. The beaux, forgetting their disappointments, and the maidens, +seeing the cause of all their jealousy removed, made merry together; and +it was said that never had there been in the history of the province an +event so joyous as was the wedding of Herman and Eloise. + +But in all the Village there was one aching heart. Ludwig, the young +musician, saw with quiet despair the maiden he loved go to the altar +with another. He had known Eloise from childhood, and he could not say +when his love of her began, it was so very long ago; but now he knew his +heart was consumed by a hopeless passion. Once, at a village festival, +he had begun to speak to her of his love; but Eloise had placed her hand +kindly upon his lips and told him to say no further, for they had +always been and always would be brother and sister. So Ludwig never +spoke his love after that, and Eloise and he were as brother and sister; +but the love of her grew always within him, and he had no thought but of +her. + +And now, when Eloise and Herman were wed, Ludwig feigned that he had +received a message from a rich relative in a distant part of the kingdom +bidding him come thither, and Ludwig went from the village and was seen +there no more. + +When the burgomaster died all his possessions went to Herman and Eloise; +and they were accounted the richest folk in the province, and so good +and charitable were they that they were beloved by all. Meanwhile Herman +had risen to greatness in the army, for by his valorous exploits he had +become a general, and he was much endeared to the king. And Eloise and +Herman lived in a great castle in the midst of a beautiful park, and the +people came and paid them reverence there. + +And no one in all these years spoke of Ludwig. No one thought of him. +Ludwig was forgotten. And so the years went by. + +It came to pass, however, that from a far-distant province there spread +the fame of a musician so great that the king sent for him to visit the +court. No one knew the musician's name nor whence he came, for he lived +alone and would never speak of himself; but his music was so tender and +beautiful that it was called heart-music, and he himself was called the +Master. He was old and bowed with infirmities, but his music was always +of youth and love; it touched every heart with its simplicity and +pathos, and all wondered how this old and broken man could create so +much of tenderness and sweetness on these themes. + +But when the king sent for the Master to come to court the Master +returned him answer: "No, I am old and feeble. To leave my home would +weary me unto death. Let me die here as I have lived these long years, +weaving my music for hearts that need my solace." + +Then the people wondered. But the king was not angry; in pity he sent +the Master a purse of gold, and bade him come or not come, as he willed. +Such honor had never before been shown any subject in the kingdom, and +all the people were dumb with amazement. But the Master gave the purse +of gold to the poor of the village wherein he lived. + +In those days Herman died, full of honors and years, and there was a +great lamentation in the land, for Herman was beloved by all. And Eloise +wept unceasingly and would not be comforted. + +On the seventh day after Herman had been buried there came to the castle +in the park an aged and bowed man who carried in his white and trembling +hands a violin. His kindly face was deeply wrinkled, and a venerable +beard swept down upon his breast. He was weary and footsore, but he +heeded not the words of pity bestowed on him by all who beheld him +tottering on his way. He knocked boldly at the castle gate, and demanded +to be brought into the presence of Eloise. + +And Eloise said: "Bid him enter; perchance his music will comfort my +breaking heart." + +Then, when the old man had come into her presence, behold! he was the +Master,--ay, the Master whose fame was in every land, whose heart-music +was on every tongue. + +"If thou art indeed the Master," said Eloise, "let thy music be balm to +my chastened spirit." + +The Master said: "Ay, Eloise, I will comfort thee in thy sorrow, and thy +heart shall be stayed, and a great joy will come to thee." + +Then the Master drew his bow across the strings, and lo! forthwith there +arose such harmonies as Eloise had never heard before. Gently, +persuasively, they stole upon her senses and filled her soul with an +ecstasy of peace. + +"Is it Herman that speaks to me?" cried Eloise. "It is his voice I hear, +and it speaks to me of love. With thy heart-music, O Master, all the +sweetness of his life comes back to comfort me!" + +The Master did not pause; as he played, it seemed as if each tender word +and caress of Herman's life was stealing back on music's pinions to +soothe the wounds that death had made. + +"It is the song of our love-life," murmured Eloise. "How full of +memories it is--what tenderness and harmony--and, oh! what peace it +brings! But tell me, Master, what means this minor chord,--this +undertone of sadness and of pathos that flows like a deep, unfathomable +current throughout it all, and wailing, weaves itself about thy theme of +love and happiness with its weird and subtile influences?" + +Then the Master said: "It is that shade of sorrow and sacrifice, O +Eloise, that ever makes the picture of love more glorious. An undertone +of pathos has been _my_ part in all these years to symmetrize the love +of Herman and Eloise. The song of thy love is beautiful, and who shall +say it is not beautified by the sad undertone of Ludwig's broken heart?" + +"Thou art Ludwig!" cried Eloise. "Thou art Ludwig, who didst love me, +and hast come to comfort me who loved thee not!" + +The Master indeed was Ludwig; but when they hastened to do him homage he +heard them not, for with that last and sweetest heart-song his head sank +upon his breast, and he was dead. + + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Fido's Little Friend. + + + + +FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND. + + +One morning in May Fido sat on the front porch, and he was deep in +thought. He was wondering whether the people who were moving into the +next house were as cross and unfeeling as the people who had just moved +out. He hoped they were not, for the people who had just moved out had +never treated Fido with that respect and kindness which Fido believed he +was on all occasions entitled to. + +"The new-comers must be nice folks," said Fido to himself, "for their +feather-beds look big and comfortable, and their baskets are all ample +and generous,--and see, there goes a bright gilt cage, and there is a +plump yellow canary bird in it! Oh, how glad Mrs. Tabby will be to see +it,--she so dotes on dear little canary birds!" + +Mrs. Tabby was the old brindled cat, who was the mother of the four +cunning little kittens in the hay-mow. Fido had heard her remark very +purringly only a few days ago that she longed for a canary bird, just to +amuse her little ones and give them correct musical ears. Honest old +Fido! There was no guile in his heart, and he never dreamed there was in +all the wide world such a sin as hypocrisy. So when Fido saw the little +canary bird in the cage he was glad for Mrs. Tabby's sake. + +While Fido sat on the front porch and watched the people moving into the +next house another pair of eyes peeped out of the old hollow maple over +the way. This was the red-headed woodpecker, who had a warm, cosey nest +far down in the old hollow maple, and in the nest there were four +beautiful eggs, of which the red-headed woodpecker was very proud. + +"Good-morning, Mr. Fido," called the red-headed woodpecker from her high +perch. "You are out bright and early to-day. And what do you think of +our new neighbors?" + +"Upon my word, I cannot tell," replied Fido, wagging his tail cheerily, +"for I am not acquainted with them. But I have been watching them +closely, and by to-day noon I think I shall be on speaking terms with +them,--provided, of course, they are not the cross, unkind people our +old neighbors were." + +"Oh, I do so hope there are no little boys in the family," sighed the +red-headed woodpecker; and then she added, with much determination and a +defiant toss of her beautiful head: "I hate little boys!" + +"Why so?" inquired Fido. "As for myself, I love little boys. I have +always found them the pleasantest of companions. Why do _you_ dislike +them?" + +"Because they are wicked," said the red-headed woodpecker. "They climb +trees and break up the nests we have worked so hard to build, and they +steal away our lovely eggs--oh, I hate little boys!" + +"Good little boys don't steal birds' eggs," said Fido, "and I'm sure I +never would play with a bad boy." + +But the red-headed woodpecker insisted that all little boys were wicked; +and, firm in this faith, she flew away to the linden over yonder, +where, she had heard the thrush say, there lived a family of fat white +grubs. The red-headed woodpecker wanted her breakfast, and it would have +been hard to find a more palatable morsel for her than a white fat grub. + +As for Fido, he sat on the front porch and watched the people moving in. +And as he watched them he thought of what the red-headed woodpecker had +said, and he wondered whether it could be possible for little boys to be +so cruel as to rob birds' nests. As he brooded over this sad +possibility, his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a +voice that fell pleasantly on his ears. + +"Goggie, goggie, goggie!" said the voice. "Tum here, 'ittle goggie--tum +here, goggie, goggie, goggie!" + +Fido looked whence the voice seemed to come, and he saw a tiny figure on +the other side of the fence,--a cunning baby-figure in the yard that +belonged to the house where the new neighbors were moving in. A second +glance assured Fido that the calling stranger was a little boy not more +than three years old, wearing a pretty dress, and a broad hat that +crowned his yellow hair and shaded his big blue eyes and dimpled face. +The sight was a pleasing one, and Fido vibrated his tail,--very +cautiously, however, for Fido was not quite certain that the little boy +meant his greeting for him, and Fido's sad experiences with the old +neighbors had made him wary about scraping acquaintances too hastily. + +"Tum, 'ittle goggie!" persisted the prattling stranger, and, as if to +encourage Fido, the little boy stretched his chubby arms through the +fence and waved them entreatingly. + +Fido was convinced now; so he got up, and with many cordial gestures of +his hospitable tail, trotted down the steps and over the lawn to the +corner of the fence where the little stranger was. + +"Me love oo," said the little stranger, patting Fido's honest brown +back; "me love oo, 'ittle goggie." + +Fido knew that, for there were caresses in every stroke of the dimpled +hands. Fido loved the little boy, too,--yes, all at once he loved the +little boy; and he licked the dimpled hands, and gave three short, quick +barks, and wagged his tail hysterically. So then and there began the +friendship of Fido and the little boy. + +Presently Fido crawled under the fence into the next yard, and then the +little boy sat down on the grass, and Fido put his forepaws in the +little boy's lap and cocked up his ears and looked up into the little +boy's face, as much as to say, "We shall be great friends, shall we not, +little boy?" + +"Me love oo," said the little boy; "me wan' to tiss oo, 'ittle goggie!" + +And the little boy did kiss Fido,--yes, right on Fido's cold nose; and +Fido liked to have the little boy kiss him, for it reminded him of +another little boy who used to kiss him, but who was now so big that he +was almost ashamed to play with Fido any more. + +"Is oo sit, 'ittle goggie?" asked the little boy, opening his blue eyes +to their utmost capacity and looking very piteous. "Oo nose be so told, +oo mus' be sit, 'ittle goggie!" + +But no, Fido was not sick, even though his nose _was_ cold. Oh, no; he +romped and played all that morning in the cool, green grass with the +little boy; and the red-headed woodpecker, clinging to the bark on the +hickory-tree, laughed at their merry antics till her sides ached and her +beautiful head turned fairly livid. Then, at last, the little boy's +mamma came out of the house and told him he had played long enough; and +neither the red-headed woodpecker nor Fido saw him again that day. + +But the next morning the little boy toddled down to the fence-corner, +bright and early, and called, "Goggie! goggie! goggie!" so loudly, that +Fido heard him in the wood-shed, where he was holding a morning chat +with Mrs. Tabby. Fido hastened to answer the call; the way he spun out +of the wood-shed and down the gravel walk and around the corner of the +house was a marvel. + +"Mamma says oo dot f'eas, 'ittle goggie," said the little boy. "_Has_ oo +dot f'eas?" + +Fido looked crestfallen, for could Fido have spoken he would have +confessed that he indeed _was_ afflicted with fleas,--not with very many +fleas, but just enough to interrupt his slumbers and his meditations at +the most inopportune moments. And the little boy's guileless impeachment +set Fido to feeling creepy-crawly all of a sudden, and without any +further ado Fido turned deftly in his tracks, twisted his head back +toward his tail, and by means of several well-directed bites and plunges +gave the malicious Bedouins thereabouts located timely warning to behave +themselves. The little boy thought this performance very funny, and he +laughed heartily. But Fido looked crestfallen. + +Oh, what play and happiness they had that day; how the green grass +kissed their feet, and how the smell of clover came with the springtime +breezes from the meadow yonder! The red-headed woodpecker heard them at +play, and she clambered out of the hollow maple and dodged hither and +thither as if she, too, shared their merriment. Yes, and the yellow +thistle-bird, whose nest was in the blooming lilac-bush, came and +perched in the pear-tree and sang a little song about the dear little +eggs in her cunning home. And there was a flower in the fence-corner,--a +sweet, modest flower that no human eyes but the little boy's had ever +seen,--and she sang a little song, too, a song about the kind old mother +earth and the pretty sunbeams, the gentle rain and the droning bees. +Why, the little boy had never known anything half so beautiful, and +Fido,--he, too, was delighted beyond all telling. If the whole truth +must be told, Fido had such an exciting and bewildering romp that day +that when night came, and he lay asleep on the kitchen floor, he dreamed +he was tumbling in the green grass with the little boy, and he tossed +and barked and whined so in his sleep that the hired man had to get up +in the night and put him out of doors. + +Down in the pasture at the end of the lane lived an old woodchuck. Last +year the freshet had driven him from his childhood's home in the +cornfield by the brook, and now he resided in a snug hole in the +pasture. During their rambles one day, Fido and his little boy friend +had come to the pasture, and found the old woodchuck sitting upright at +the entrance to his hole. + +"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you, old Mr. Woodchuck," said Fido. "I have +too much respect for your gray hairs." + +"Thank you," replied the woodchuck, sarcastically, "but I'm not afraid +of any bench-legged fyste that ever walked. It was only last week that I +whipped Deacon Skinner's yellow mastiff, and I calc'late I can trounce +you, you ridiculous little brown cur!" + +The little boy did not hear this badinage. When he saw the woodchuck +solemnly perched at the entrance to his hole he was simply delighted. + +"Oh, see!" cried the little boy, stretching out his fat arms and running +toward the woodchuck,--"oh, see,--nuzzer 'ittle goggie! Tum here, 'ittle +goggie,--me love oo!" + +But the old woodchuck was a shy creature, and not knowing what guile the +little boy's cordial greeting might mask, the old woodchuck discreetly +disappeared in his hole, much to the little boy's amazement. + +Nevertheless, the old woodchuck, the little boy, and Fido became fast +friends in time, and almost every day they visited together in the +pasture. The old woodchuck--hoary and scarred veteran that he was--had +wonderful stories to tell,--stories of marvellous adventures, of narrow +escapes, of battles with cruel dogs, and of thrilling experiences that +were altogether new to his wondering listeners. Meanwhile the red-headed +woodpecker's eggs in the hollow maple had hatched, and the proud mother +had great tales to tell of her baby birds,--of how beautiful and knowing +they were, and of what good, noble birds they were going to be when they +grew up. The yellow-bird, too, had four fuzzy little babies in her nest +in the lilac-bush, and every now and then she came to sing to the little +boy and Fido of her darlings. Then, when the little boy and Fido were +tired with play, they would sit in the rowen near the fence-corner and +hear the flower tell a story the dew had brought fresh from the stars +the night before. They all loved each other,--the little boy, Fido, the +old woodchuck, the red-headed woodpecker, the yellow-bird, and the +flower,--yes, all through the days of spring and all through the summer +time they loved each other in their own honest, sweet, simple way. + +But one morning Fido sat on the front porch and wondered why the little +boy had not come to the fence-corner and called to him. The sun was +high, the men had been long gone to the harvest fields, and the heat of +the early autumn day had driven the birds to the thickest foliage of +the trees. Fido could not understand why the little boy did not come; he +felt, oh! so lonesome, and he yearned for the sound of a little voice +calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie." + +The red-headed woodpecker could not explain it, nor could the +yellow-bird. Fido trotted leisurely down to the fence-corner and asked +the flower if she had seen the little boy that morning. But no, the +flower had not laid eyes on the little boy, and she could only shake her +head doubtfully when Fido asked her what it all meant. At last in +desperation Fido braced himself for an heroic solution of the mystery, +and as loudly as ever he could, he barked three times,--in the hope, you +know, that the little boy would hear his call and come. But the little +boy did not come. + +Then Fido trotted sadly down the lane to the pasture to talk with the +old woodchuck about this strange thing. The old woodchuck saw him coming +and ambled out to meet him. + +"But where is our little boy?" asked the old woodchuck. + +"I do not know," said Fido. "I waited for him and called to him again +and again, but he never came." + +Ah, those were sorry days for the little boy's friends, and sorriest for +Fido. Poor, honest Fido, how lonesome he was and how he moped about! How +each sudden sound, how each footfall, startled him! How he sat all those +days upon the front door-stoop, with his eyes fixed on the fence-corner +and his rough brown ears cocked up as if he expected each moment to see +two chubby arms stretched out toward him and to hear a baby voice +calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie." + +Once only they saw him,--Fido, the flower, and the others. It was one +day when Fido had called louder than usual. They saw a little figure in +a night-dress come to an upper window and lean his arms out. They saw it +was the little boy, and, oh! how pale and ill he looked. But his yellow +hair was as glorious as ever, and the dimples came back with the smile +that lighted his thin little face when he saw Fido; and he leaned on the +window casement and waved his baby hands feebly, and cried: "Goggie! +goggie!" till Fido saw the little boy's mother come and take him from +the window. + +One morning Fido came to the fence-corner--how very lonely that spot +seemed now--and he talked with the flower and the woodpecker; and the +yellow-bird came, too, and they all talked of the little boy. And at +that very moment the old woodchuck reared his hoary head by the hole in +the pasture, and he looked this way and that and wondered why the little +boy never came any more. + +"Suppose," said Fido to the yellow-bird,--"suppose you fly to the window +way up there and see what the little boy is doing. Sing him one of your +pretty songs, and tell him we are lonesome without him; that we are +waiting for him in the old fence-corner." + +Then the yellow-bird did as Fido asked,--she flew to the window where +they had once seen the little boy, and alighting upon the sill, she +peered into the room. In another moment she was back on the bush at +Fido's side. + +"He is asleep," said the yellow-bird. + +"Asleep!" cried Fido. + +"Yes," said the yellow-bird, "he is fast asleep. I think he must be +dreaming a beautiful dream, for I could see a smile on his face, and his +little hands were folded on his bosom. There were flowers all about +him, and but for their sweet voices the chamber would have been very +still." + +"Come, let us wake him," said Fido; "let us all call to him at once. +Then perhaps he will hear us and awaken and answer; perhaps he will +come." + +So they all called in chorus,--Fido and the other honest friends. They +called so loudly that the still air of that autumn morning was strangely +startled, and the old woodchuck in the pasture way off yonder heard the +echoes and wondered. + +"Little boy! little boy!" they called, "why are you sleeping? Why are +you sleeping, little boy?" + +Call on, dear voices! but the little boy will never hear. The dimpled +hands that caressed you are indeed folded upon his breast; the lips that +kissed your honest faces are sealed; the baby voice that sang your +playtime songs with you is hushed, and all about him is the fragrance +and the beauty of flowers. Call on, O honest friends! but he shall never +hear your calling; for, as if he were aweary of the love and play and +sunshine that were all he knew of earth, our darling is asleep forever. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +The Old Man. + + + + +THE OLD MAN. + + +I called him the Old Man, but he wuzn't an old man; he wuz a little +boy--our fust one; 'nd his gran'ma, who'd had a heap of experience in +sich matters, allowed that he wuz for looks as likely a child as she'd +ever clapped eyes on. Bein' our fust, we sot our hearts on him, and +Lizzie named him Willie, for that wuz the name she liked best, havin' +had a brother Willyum killed in the war. But I never called him anything +but the Old Man, and that name seemed to fit him, for he wuz one of your +sollum babies,--alwuz thinkin' 'nd thinkin' 'nd thinkin', like he wuz a +jedge, and when he laffed it wuzn't like other children's laffs, it wuz +so sad-like. + +Lizzie 'nd I made it up between us that when the Old Man growed up we'd +send him to collige 'nd give him a lib'ril edication, no matter though +we had to sell the farm to do it. But we never cud exactly agree as to +what we was goin' to make of him; Lizzie havin' her heart sot on his +bein' a preacher like his gran'pa Baker, and I wantin' him to be a +lawyer 'nd git rich out'n the corporations, like his uncle Wilson +Barlow. So we never come to no definite conclusion as to what the Old +Man wuz goin' to be bime by; but while we wuz thinkin' 'nd debatin' the +Old Man kep' growin' 'nd growin', and all the time he wuz as serious 'nd +sollum as a jedge. + +Lizzie got jest wrapt up in that boy; toted him round ever'where 'nd +never let on like it made her tired,--powerful big 'nd hearty child too, +but heft warn't nothin' 'longside of Lizzie's love for the Old Man. When +he caught the measles from Sairy Baxter's baby Lizzie sot up day 'nd +night till he wuz well, holdin' his hands 'nd singin' songs to him, 'nd +cryin' herse'f almost to death because she dassent give him cold water +to drink when he called f'r it. As for me, _my_ heart wuz wrapt up in +the Old Man, _too_, but, bein' a man, it wuzn't for me to show it like +Lizzie, bein' a woman; and now that the Old Man is--wall, now that he +has gone, it wouldn't do to let on how much I sot by him, for that would +make Lizzie feel all the wuss. + +Sometimes, when I think of it, it makes me sorry that I didn't show the +Old Man some way how much I wuz wrapt up in him. Used to hold him in my +lap 'nd make faces for him 'nd alder whistles 'nd things; sometimes I'd +kiss him on his rosy cheek, when nobody wuz lookin'; oncet I tried to +sing him a song, but it made him cry, 'nd I never tried my hand at +singin' again. But, somehow, the Old Man didn't take to me like he took +to his mother: would climb down outern my lap to git where Lizzie wuz; +would hang on to her gownd, no matter what she wuz doin',--whether she +was makin' bread, or sewin', or puttin' up pickles, it wuz alwuz the +same to the Old Man; he wuzn't happy unless he wuz right there, clost +beside his mother. + +Most all boys, as I've heern tell, is proud to be round with their +father, doin' what _he_ does 'nd wearin' the kind of clothes _he_ wears. +But the Old Man wuz diff'rent; he allowed that his mother wuz his best +friend, 'nd the way he stuck to her--wall, it has alwuz been a great +comfort to Lizzie to recollect it. + +The Old Man had a kind of confidin' way with his mother. Every oncet in +a while, when he'd be playin' by hisself in the front room, he'd call +out, "Mudder, mudder;" and no matter where Lizzie wuz,--in the kitchen, +or in the wood-shed, or in the yard, she'd answer: "What is it, +darlin'?" Then the Old Man 'ud say: "Tum here, mudder, I wanter tell you +sumfin'." Never could find out what the Old Man wanted to tell Lizzie; +like 's not he didn't wanter tell her nothin'; may be he wuz lonesome +'nd jest wanted to feel that Lizzie wuz round. But that didn't make no +diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or +what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to +tell her somethin' she dropped ever'thing else 'nd went straight to him. +Then the Old Man would laff one of his sollum, sad-like laffs, 'nd put +his arms round Lizzie's neck 'nd whisper--or pertend to +whisper--somethin' in her ear, 'nd Lizzie would laff 'nd say, "Oh, what +a nice secret we have atween us!" and then she would kiss the Old Man +'nd go back to her work. + +Time changes all things,--all things but memory, nothin' can change +_that_. Seems like it wuz only yesterday or the day before that I heern +the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter tell you sumfin'," and +that I seen him put his arms around her neck 'nd whisper softly to her. + +It had been an open winter, 'nd there wuz fever all around us. The +Baxters lost their little girl, and Homer Thompson's children had all +been taken down. Ev'ry night 'nd mornin' we prayed God to save our +darlin'; but one evenin' when I come up from the wood lot, the Old Man +wuz restless 'nd his face wuz hot 'nd he talked in his sleep. May be +you've been through it yourself,--may be you've tended a child that's +down with the fever; if so, may be you know what we went through, Lizzie +'nd me. The doctor shook his head one night when he come to see the Old +Man; we knew what that meant. I went out-doors,--I couldn't stand it in +the room there, with the Old Man seein' 'nd talkin' about things that +the fever made him see. I wuz too big a coward to stay 'nd help his +mother to bear up; so I went out-doors 'nd brung in wood,--brung in wood +enough to last all spring,--and then I sat down alone by the kitchen +fire 'nd heard the clock tick 'nd watched the shadders flicker through +the room. + +I remember Lizzie's comin' to me and sayin': "He's breathin' +strange-like, 'nd has little feet is cold as ice." Then I went into the +front chamber where he lay. The day wuz breakin'; the cattle wuz lowin' +outside; a beam of light come through the winder and fell on the Old +Man's face,--perhaps it wuz the summons for which he waited and which +shall some time come to me 'nd you. Leastwise the Old Man roused from +his sleep 'nd opened up his big blue eyes. It wuzn't me he wanted to +see. + +"Mudder! mudder!" cried the Old Man, but his voice warn't strong 'nd +clear like it used to be. "Mudder, where _be_ you, mudder?" + +Then, breshin' by me, Lizzie caught the Old Man up 'nd held him in her +arms, like she had done a thousand times before. + +"What is it, darlin'? _Here_ I be," says Lizzie. + +"Tum here," says the Old Man,--"tum here; I wanter tell you sumfin'." + +The Old Man went to reach his arms around her neck 'nd whisper in her +ear. But his arms fell limp and helpless-like, 'nd the Old Man's curly +head drooped on his mother's breast. + +1889. + + * * * * * + +Bill, the Lokil Editor. + + + + +BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR. + + +Bill wuz alluz fond uv children 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Aint it kind o' +curious how sometimes we find a great, big, awkward man who loves sech +things? Bill had the biggest feet in the township, but I'll bet my +wallet that he never trod on a violet in all his life. Bill never took +no slack from enny man that wuz sober, but the children made him play +with 'em, and he'd set for hours a-watchin' the yaller-hammer buildin' +her nest in the old cottonwood. + +Now I aint defendin' Bill; I'm jest tellin' the truth about him. Nothink +I kin say one way or t'other is goin' to make enny difference now; +Bill's dead 'nd buried, 'nd the folks is discussin' him 'nd wond'rin' +whether his immortal soul is all right. Sometimes I _hev_ worried 'bout +Bill, but I don't worry 'bout him no more. Uv course Bill had his +faults,--I never liked that drinkin' business uv his'n, yet I allow that +Bill got more good out'n likker, and likker got more good out'n Bill, +than I ever see before or sence. It warn't when the likker wuz in Bill +that Bill wuz at his best, but when he hed been on to one uv his bats +'nd had drunk himself sick 'nd wuz comin' out uv the other end of the +bat, then Bill wuz one uv the meekest 'nd properest critters you ever +seen. An' potry? Some uv the most beautiful potry I ever read wuz writ +by Bill when he wuz recoverin' himself out'n one uv them bats. Seemed +like it kind uv exalted an' purified Bill's nachur to git drunk an' git +over it. Bill cud drink more likker 'nd be sorrier for it than any other +man in seven States. There never wuz a more penitent feller than he wuz +when he wuz soberin'. The trubble with Bill seemed to be that his +conscience didn't come on watch quite of'n enuff. + +It'll be ten years come nex' spring sence Bill showed up here. I don't +know whar he come from; seemed like he didn't want to talk about his +past. I allers suspicioned that he had seen trubble--maybe, sorrer. I +reecollect that one time he got a telegraph,--Mr. Ivins told me 'bout +it afterwards,--and when he read it he put his hands up to his face 'nd +groaned, like. That day he got full uv likker 'nd he kep' full of likker +for a week; but when he come round all right he wrote a pome for the +paper, 'nd the name of the pome wuz "Mary," but whether Mary wuz his +sister or his wife or an old sweetheart uv his'n I never knew. But it +looked from the pome like she wuz dead 'nd that he loved her. + +Bill wuz the best lokil the paper ever had. He didn't hustle around +much, but he had a kind er pleasin' way uv dishin' things up. He cud be +mighty comical when he sot out to be, but his best holt was serious +pieces. Nobody could beat Bill writin' obituaries. When old Mose +Holbrook wuz dyin' the minister sez to him: "Mr. Holbrook, you seem to +be sorry that you're passin' away to a better land?" + +"Wall, no; not exactly _that_," sez Mose, "but to be frank with you, I +_hev_ jest one regret in connection with this affair." + +"What's that?" asked the minister. + +"I can't help feelin' sorry," sez Mose, "that I aint goin' to hev the +pleasure uv readin' what Bill Newton sez about me in the paper. I know +it'll be sumthin' uncommon fine; I loant him two dollars a year ago last +fall." + +The Higginses lost a darned good friend when Bill died. Bill wrote a +pome 'bout their old dog Towze when he wuz run over by Watkins's hay +wagon seven years ago. I'll bet that pome is in every scrap-book in the +county. You couldn't read that pome without cryin',--why, that pome wud +hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary. Old Tim Hubbard, the +meanest man in the State, borrered a paper to read the pome, and he wuz +so 'fected by it that he never borrered anuther paper as long as he +lived. I don't more'n half reckon, though, that the Higginses +appreciated what Bill had done for 'em. I never heerd uv their givin' +him anythink more'n a basket uv greenin' apples, and Bill wrote a piece +'bout the apples nex' day. + +But Bill wuz at his best when he wrote things about the children,--about +the little ones that died, I mean. Seemed like Bill had a way of his own +of sayin' things that wuz beautiful 'nd tender; he said he loved the +children because they wuz innocent, and I reckon--yes, I know he did, +for the pomes he writ about 'em showed he did. + +When our little Alice died I started out for Mr. Miller's; he wuz the +undertaker. The night wuz powerful dark, 'nd it wuz all the darker to +me, because seemed like all the light hed gone out in my life. Down near +the bridge I met Bill; he weaved round in the road, for he wuz in +likker. + +"Hello, Mr. Baker," sez he, "whar be you goin' this time o' night?" + +"Bill," sez I, "I'm goin' on the saddest errand uv my life." + +"What d'ye mean?" sez he, comin' up to me as straight as he cud. + +"Why, Bill," sez I, "our little girl--my little girl--Allie, you +know--she's dead." + +I hoarsed up so I couldn't say much more. And Bill didn't say nothink at +all; he jest reached me his hand, and he took my hand and seemed like in +that grasp his heart spoke many words of comfort to mine. And nex' day +he had a piece in the paper about our little girl; we cut it out and put +it in the big Bible in the front room. Sometimes when we get to +fussin', Martha goes 'nd gets that bit of paper 'nd reads it to me; then +us two kind uv cry to ourselves, 'nd we make it up between us for the +dead child's sake. + +Well, you kin see how it wuz that so many uv us liked Bill; he had +soothed our hearts,--there's nothin' like sympathy after all. Bill's +potry hed heart in it; it didn't surprise you or scare you; it jest got +down in under your vest, 'nd before you knew it you wuz all choked up. I +know all about your fashionable potry and your famous potes,--Martha +took Godey's for a year. Folks that live in the city can't write +potry,--not the real, genuine article. To write potry, as I figure it, +the heart must have somethin' to feed on; you can't get that somethin' +whar there aint trees 'nd grass 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Bill loved these +things, and he fed his heart on 'em, and that's why his potry wuz so +much better than anybody else's. + +I aint worryin' much about Bill now; I take it that everythink is for +the best. When they told me that Bill died in a drunken fit I felt that +his end oughter have come some other way,--he wuz too good a man for +that. But maybe, after all, it was ordered for the best. Jist imagine +Bill a-standin' up for jedgment; jist imagine that poor, sorrowful, +shiverin' critter waitin' for his turn to come. Pictur', if you can, how +full uv penitence he is, 'nd how full uv potry 'nd gentleness 'nd +misery. The Lord aint agoin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of +course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of +compassion,--a compassion infinitely tenderer and sweeter than ours. And +the more I think on 't, the more I reckon that Bill will plead to win +that mercy, for, like as not, the little ones--my Allie with the +rest--will run to him when they see him in his trubble and will hold his +tremblin' hands 'nd twine their arms about him, and plead, with him, for +compassion. + +You've seen an old sycamore that the lightnin' has struck; the ivy has +reached up its vines 'nd spread 'em all around it 'nd over it, coverin' +its scars 'nd splintered branches with a velvet green 'nd fillin' the +air with fragrance. You've seen this thing and you know that it is +beautiful. + +That's Bill, perhaps, as he stands up f'r jedgment,--a miserable, +tremblin', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with +singin' and pleadin' little children--and that is pleasin' in God's +sight, I know. + +What would you--what would _I_--say, if we wuz setin' in jedgment then? + +Why, we'd jest kind uv bresh the moisture from our eyes 'nd say: "Mister +recordin' angel, you may nolly pros this case 'nd perseed with the +docket." + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Little Yaller Baby. + + + + +THE LITTLE YALLER BABY. + + +I hev allus hed a good opinion uv the wimmin folks. I don't look at 'em +as some people do; uv course they're a necessity--just as men are. Uv +course if there warn't no wimmin folks there wouldn't be no men +folks--leastwise that's what the medikil books say. But I never wuz much +on discussin' humin economy; what I hev allus thought 'nd said wuz that +wimmin folks wuz a kind uv luxury, 'nd the best kind, too. Maybe it's +because I haint hed much to do with 'em that I'm sot on 'em. Never did +get real well acquainted with more 'n three or four uv 'em in all my +life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn't hev 'em round me as most +men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an' Ant Mary raised me +till I wuz big enuff to make my own livin'. Down here in the Southwest, +you see, most uv the girls is boys; there aint none uv them civilizin' +influences folks talk uv,--nothin' but flowers 'nd birds 'nd such things +as poetry tells about. So I kind uv growed up with the curis notion that +wimmin folks wuz too good for our part uv the country, 'nd I hevn't +quite got that notion out'n my head yet. + +One time--wall, I reckon 't wuz about four years ago--I got a letter +frum ol' Col. Sibley to come up to Saint Louey 'nd consult with him +'bout some stock int'rests we hed together. Railroad travellin' wuz no +new thing to me. I hed been prutty posperous,--hed got past hevin' to +ride in a caboose 'nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed +money in the Hoost'n bank 'nd use to go to Tchicargo oncet a year; hed +met Fill Armer 'nd shook hands with him, 'nd oncet the city papers hed a +colume article about my bein' a millionnaire; uv course 't warn't so, +but a feller kind uv likes that sort uv thing, you know. + +The mornin' after I got that letter from Col. Sibley I started for Saint +Louey. I took a bunk in the Pullman car, like I hed been doin' for six +years past; 'nd I reckon the other folks must hev thought I wuz a heap +uv a man, for every haff-hour I give the nigger haf a dollar to bresh me +off. The car wuz full uv people,--rich people, too, I reckon, for they +wore good clo'es 'nd criticised the scenery. Jest across frum me there +wuz a lady with a big, fat baby,--the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a +month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn't +payin' money to the nigger, darned if I didn't set there watchin' the +big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I aint much +of a hand at babies, 'cause I haint seen many uv 'em, 'nd when it comes +to handlin' 'em--why, that would break me all up, 'nd like 's not 't +would break the baby all up too. But it has allus been my notion that +nex' to the wimmin folks babies wuz jest about the nicest things on +earth. So the more I looked at that big, fat little baby settin' in its +mother's lap 'cross the way, the more I wanted to look; seemed like I +wuz hoodooed by the little tyke; 'nd the first thing I knew there wuz +water in my eyes; don't know why it is, but it allus makes me kind ur +slop over to set 'nd watch a baby cooin' 'nd playin' in its mother's +lap. + +"Look a' hyar, Sam," says I to the nigger, "come hyar 'nd bresh me off +agin! Why aint you tendin' to bizniss?" + +But it didn't do no good 't all; pertendin' to be cross with the nigger +might fool the other folks in the car, but it didn't fool me. I wuz dead +stuck on that baby--gol durn his pictur'! And there the little tyke set +in its mother's lap, doublin' up its fists 'nd tryin' to swaller 'em, +'nd talkin' like to its mother in a lingo I couldn't understan', but +which the mother could, for she talked back to the baby in a soothin' +lingo which I couldn't understand but which I liked to hear, 'nd she +kissed the baby 'nd stroked its hair 'nd petted it like wimmin do. + +It made me mad to hear them other folks in the car criticisn' the +scenery 'nd things. A man's in mighty poor bizness, anyhow, to be +lookin' at scenery when there's a woman in sight,--a woman _and_ a baby! + +Prutty soon--oh, maybe in a hour or two--the baby began to fret 'nd +worrit. Seemed to me like the little critter wuz hungry. Knowin' that +there wuzn't no eatin'-house this side uv Bowieville, I jest called the +train boy, 'nd says I to him: "Hev you got any victuals that will do +for a baby?" + +"How is oranges 'nd bananas?" says he. + +"That ought to do," sez I. "Jist do up a dozen uv your best oranges 'nd +a dozen uv your best bananas 'nd take 'em over to that baby with my +complerments." + +But before he could do it, the lady hed laid the baby on one uv her arms +'nd hed spread a shawl over its head 'nd over her shoulder, 'nd all uv a +suddin' the baby quit worritin' and seemed like he hed gone to sleep. + +When we got to York Crossin' I looked out'n the winder 'nd seen some men +carryin' a long pine box up towards the baggage car. Seein' their hats +off, I knew there wuz a dead body in the box, 'nd I couldn't help +feelin' sorry for the poor creetur that hed died in that lonely place uv +York Crossin'; but I mought hev felt a heap sorrier for the creeters +that hed to live there, for I'll allow that York Crossin' is a _leetle_ +the durnedest lonesomest place I ever seen. + +Well, just afore the train started agin, who should come into the car +but Bill Woodson, and he wuz lookin' powerful tough. Bill herded cattle +for me three winters, but hed moved away when he married one uv the +waiter girls at Spooner's hotel at Hoost'n. + +"Hello, Bill," says I; "what air you totin' so kind uv keerful-like in +your arms there?" + +"Why, I've got the baby," says he; 'nd as he said it the tears come up +into his eyes. + +"Your own baby, Bill?" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "Nellie took sick uv the janders a fortnight ago, +'nd--'nd she died, 'nd I'm takin' her body up to Texarkany to bury. She +lived there, you know, 'nd I'm goin' to leave the baby there with its +gran'ma." + +Poor Bill! it wuz his wife that the men were carryin' in that pine box +to the baggage car. + +"Likely lookin' baby, Bill," says I, cheerful like. "Perfect pictur' uv +its mother; kind uv favors you round the lower part uv the face, tho'." + +I said this to make Bill feel happier. If I'd told the truth, I'd 've +said the baby wuz a sickly, yaller-lookin' little thing, for so it wuz; +looked haff-starved, too. Couldn't help comparin' it with that big, fat +baby in its mother's arms over the way. + +"Bill," says I, "here's a ten-dollar note for the baby, 'nd God bless +you!" + +"Thank ye, Mr. Goodhue," says he, 'nd he choked all up as he moved off +with that yaller little baby in his arms. It warn't very fur up the road +he wuz goin', 'nd he found a seat in one uv the front cars. + +But along about an hour after that back come Bill, moseyin' through the +car like he wuz huntin' for somebody. Seemed like he wuz in trubble and +wuz huntin' for a friend. + +"Anything I kin do for you, Bill?" says I, but he didn't make no answer. +All of a suddint he sot his eyes on the prutty lady that had the fat +baby sleepin' in her arms, 'nd he made a break for her like he wuz +crazy. He took off his hat 'nd bent down over her 'nd said somethin' +none uv the rest uv us could hear. The lady kind uv started like she wuz +frightened, 'nd then she looked up at Bill 'nd looked him right square +in the countenance. She saw a tall, ganglin', awkward man, with long +yaller hair 'nd frowzy beard, 'nd she saw that he wuz tremblin' 'nd hed +tears in his eyes. She looked down at the fat baby in her arms, 'nd then +she looked out'n the winder at the great stretch uv prairie land, 'nd +seemed like she wuz lookin' off further'n the rest uv us could see. +Then, at last, she turnt around 'nd said, "Yes," to Bill, 'nd Bill went +off into the front car ag'in. + +None uv the rest uv us knew what all this meant, but in a minnit Bill +come back with his little yaller baby in his arms, 'nd you never heerd a +baby squall 'nd carry on like that baby wuz squallin' 'nd carryin' on. +Fact is, the little yaller baby was hungry, hungrier'n a wolf, 'nd there +wuz its mother dead in the car up ahead 'nd its gran'ma a good piece up +the road. What did the lady over the way do but lay her own sleepin' +baby down on the seat beside her 'nd take Bill's little yaller baby 'nd +hold it on one arm 'nd cover up its head 'nd her shoulder with a shawl, +jist like she had done with the fat baby not long afore. Bill never +looked at her; he took off his hat and held it in his hand, 'nd turnt +around 'nd stood guard over that mother, 'nd I reckon that ef any man +hed darst to look that way jist then Bill would've cut his heart out. + +The little yaller baby didn't cry very long. Seemed like it knowed +there wuz a mother holdin' it,--not its own mother, but a woman whose +life hed been hallowed by God's blessin' with the love 'nd the purity +'nd the sanctity uv motherhood. + +Why, I wouldn't hev swapped that sight uv Bill an' them two babies 'nd +that sweet woman for all the cattle in Texas! It jest made me know that +what I'd allus thought uv wimmin was gospel truth. God bless that lady! +I say, wherever she is to-day, 'nd God bless all wimmin folks, for +they're all alike in their unselfishness 'nd gentleness 'nd love! + +Bill said, "God bless ye!" too, when she handed him back his poor little +yaller baby. The little creeter wuz fast asleep, 'nd Bill darsent speak +very loud for fear he'd wake it up. But his heart wuz way up in his +mouth when he says "God bless ye!" to that dear lady; 'nd then he added, +like he wanted to let her know that he meant to pay her back when he +could: "I'll do the same for you some time, marm, if I kin." + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Cyclopeedy. + + + + +THE CYCLOPEEDY. + + +Havin' lived next door to the Hobart place f'r goin' on thirty years, I +calc'late that I know jest about ez much about the case ez anybody else +now on airth, exceptin' perhaps it's ol' Jedge Baker, and he's so +plaguey old 'nd so powerful feeble that _he_ don't know nothin'. + +It seems that in the spring uv '47--the year that Cy Watson's oldest boy +wuz drownded in West River--there come along a book agent sellin' +volyumes 'nd tracks f'r the diffusion uv knowledge, 'nd havin' got the +recommend of the minister 'nd uv the select men, he done an all-fired +big business in our part uv the county. His name wuz Lemuel Higgins, 'nd +he wuz ez likely a talker ez I ever heerd, barrin' Lawyer Conkey, 'nd +everybody allowed that when Conkey wuz round he talked so fast that the +town pump ud have to be greased every twenty minutes. + +One of the first uv our folks that this Lemuel Higgins struck wuz +Leander Hobart. Leander had jest marr'd one uv the Peasley girls, 'nd +had moved into the old homestead on the Plainville road,--old Deacon +Hobart havin' give up the place to him, the other boys havin' moved out +West (like a lot o' darned fools that they wuz!). Leander wuz feelin' +his oats jest about this time, 'nd nuthin' wuz too good f'r him. + +"Hattie," sez he, "I guess I'll have to lay in a few books f'r readin' +in the winter time, 'nd I've half a notion to subscribe f'r a +cyclopeedy. Mr. Higgins here says they're invalerable in a family, and +that we orter have 'em, bein' as how we're likely to have the fam'ly +bime by." + +"Lor's sakes, Leander, how you talk!" sez Hattie, blushin' all over, ez +brides allers does to heern tell uv sich things. + +Waal, to make a long story short, Leander bargained with Mr. Higgins for +a set uv them cyclopeedies, 'nd he signed his name to a long printed +paper that showed how he agreed to take a cyclopeedy oncet in so often, +which wuz to be ez often ez a new one uv the volyumes wuz printed. A +cyclopeedy isn't printed all at oncet, because that would make it cost +too much; consekently the man that gets it up has it strung along fur +apart, so as to hit folks oncet every year or two, and gin'rally about +harvest time. So Leander kind uv liked the idee, and he signed the +printed paper 'nd made his affidavit to it afore Jedge Warner. + +The fust volyume of the cyclopeedy stood on a shelf in the old +seckertary in the settin'-room about four months before they had any use +f'r it. One night 'Squire Turner's son come over to visit Leander 'nd +Hattie, and they got to talkin' about apples, 'nd the sort uv apples +that wuz the best. Leander allowed that the Rhode Island greenin' wuz +the best, but Hattie and the Turner boy stuck up f'r the Roxbury russet, +until at last a happy idee struck Leander, and sez he: "We'll leave it +to the cyclopeedy, b'gosh! Whichever one the cyclopeedy sez is the best +will settle it." + +"But you can't find out nothin' 'bout Roxbury russets nor Rhode Island +greenin's in _our_ cyclopeedy," sez Hattie. + +"Why not, I'd like to know?" sez Leander, kind uv indignant like. + +"'Cause ours haint got down to the R yet," sez Hattie. "All ours tells +about is things beginnin' with A." + +"Well, aint we talkin' about Apples?" sez Leander. "You aggervate me +terrible, Hattie, by insistin' on knowin' what you don't know nothin' +'bout." + +Leander went to the seckertary 'nd took down the cyclopeedy 'nd hunted +all through it f'r Apples, but all he could find wuz "Apple--See +Pomology." + +"How in thunder kin I see Pomology," sez Leander, "when there aint no +Pomology to see? Gol durn a cyclopeedy, anyhow!" + +And he put the volyume back onto the shelf 'nd never sot eyes into it +agin. + +That's the way the thing run f'r years 'nd years. Leander would've gin +up the plaguey bargain, but he couldn't; he had signed a printed paper +'nd had swore to it afore a justice of the peace. Higgins would have had +the law on him if he had throwed up the trade. + +The most aggervatin' feature uv it all wuz that a new one uv them cussid +cyclopeedies wuz allus sure to show up at the wrong time,--when Leander +wuz hard up or had jest been afflicted some way or other. His barn burnt +down two nights afore the volyume containin' the letter B arrived, and +Leander needed all his chink to pay f'r lumber, but Higgins sot back on +that affidavit and defied the life out uv him. + +"Never mind, Leander," sez his wife, soothin' like, "it's a good book to +have in the house, anyhow, now that we've got a baby." + +"That's so," sez Leander, "babies does begin with B, don't it?" + +You see their fust baby had been born; they named him Peasley,--Peasley +Hobart,--after Hattie's folks. So, seein' as how it wuz payin' f'r a +book that told about babies, Leander didn't begredge that five dollars +so very much after all. + +"Leander," sez Hattie one forenoon, "that B cyclopeedy aint no account. +There aint nothin' in it about babies except 'See Maternity'!" + +"Waal, I'll be gosh durned!" sez Leander. That wuz all he said, and he +couldn't do nothin' at all, f'r that book agent, Lemuel Higgins, had the +dead wood on him,--the mean, sneakin' critter! + +So the years passed on, one of them cyclopeedies showin' up now 'nd +then,--sometimes every two years 'nd sometimes every four, but allus at +a time when Leander found it pesky hard to give up a fiver. It warn't no +use cussin' Higgins; Higgins just laffed when Leander allowed that the +cyclopeedy wuz no good 'nd that he wuz bein' robbed. Meantime Leander's +family wuz increasin' and growin'. Little Sarey had the hoopin' cough +dreadful one winter, but the cyclopeedy didn't help out at all, 'cause +all it said wuz: "Hoopin' Cough--See Whoopin' Cough"--and uv course, +there warn't no Whoopin' Cough to see, bein' as how the W hadn't come +yet! + +Oncet when Hiram wanted to dreen the home pasture, he went to the +cyclopeedy to find out about it, but all he diskivered wuz: "Drain--See +Tile." This wuz in 1859, and the cyclopeedy had only got down to G. + +The cow wuz sick with lung fever one spell, and Leander laid her dyin' +to that cussid cyclopeedy, 'cause when he went to readin' 'bout cows it +told him to "See Zoölogy." + +But what's the use uv harrowin' up one's feelin's talkin' 'nd thinkin' +about these things? Leander got so after a while that the cyclopeedy +didn't worry him at all: he grew to look at it ez one uv the crosses +that human critters has to bear without complainin' through this vale uv +tears. The only thing that bothered him wuz the fear that mebbe he +wouldn't live to see the last volume,--to tell the truth, this kind uv +got to be his hobby, and I've heern him talk 'bout it many a time +settin' round the stove at the tarvern 'nd squirtin' tobacco juice at +the sawdust box. His wife, Hattie, passed away with the yaller janders +the winter W come, and all that seemed to reconcile Leander to survivin' +her wuz the prospect uv seein' the last volyume uv that cyclopeedy. +Lemuel Higgins, the book agent, had gone to his everlastin' punishment; +but his son, Hiram, had succeeded to his father's business 'nd continued +to visit the folks his old man had roped in. By this time Leander's +children had growed up; all on 'em wuz marr'd, and there wuz numeris +grandchildren to amuse the ol' gentleman. But Leander wuzn't to be +satisfied with the common things uv airth; he didn't seem to take no +pleasure in his grandchildren like most men do; his mind wuz allers sot +on somethin' else,--for hours 'nd hours, yes, all day long, he'd set out +on the front stoop lookin' wistfully up the road for that book agent to +come along with a cyclopeedy. He didn't want to die till he'd got all +the cyclopeedies his contract called for; he wanted to have everything +straightened out before he passed away. + +When--oh, how well I recollect it--when Y come along he wuz so overcome +that he fell over in a fit uv paralysis, 'nd the old gentleman never got +over it. For the next three years he drooped 'nd pined, and seemed like +he couldn't hold out much longer. Finally he had to take to his bed,--he +was so old 'nd feeble,--but he made 'em move the bed up aginst the +winder so he could watch for that last volyume of the cyclopeedy. + +The end come one balmy day in the spring uv '87. His life wuz a-ebbin' +powerful fast; the minister wuz there, 'nd me, 'nd Dock Wilson, 'nd +Jedge Baker, 'nd most uv the fam'ly. Lovin' hands smoothed the wrinkled +forehead 'nd breshed back the long, scant, white hair, but the eyes of +the dyin' man wuz sot upon that piece uv road down which the cyclopeedy +man allus come. + +All to oncet a bright 'nd joyful look come into them eyes, 'nd ol' +Leander riz up in bed 'nd sez, "It's come!" + +"What is it, Father?" asked his daughter Sarey, sobbin' like. + +"Hush," sez the minister, solemnly; "he sees the shinin' gates uv the +Noo Jerusalum." + +"No, no," cried the aged man; "it is the cyclopeedy--the letter Z--it's +comin'!" + +And, sure enough! the door opened, and in walked Higgins. He tottered +rather than walked, f'r he had growed old 'nd feeble in his wicked +perfession. + +"Here's the Z cyclopeedy, Mr. Hobart," says Higgins. + +Leander clutched it; he hugged it to his pantin' bosom; then stealin' +one pale hand under the piller he drew out a faded bank-note 'nd gave it +to Higgins. + +"I thank Thee for this boon," sez Leander, rollin' his eyes up devoutly; +then he gave a deep sigh. + +"Hold on," cried Higgins, excitedly, "you've made a mistake--it isn't +the last--" + +But Leander didn't hear him--his soul hed fled from its mortal tenement +'nd hed soared rejoicin' to realms uv everlastin' bliss. + +"He is no more," sez Dock Wilson, metaphorically. + +"Then who are his heirs?" asked that mean critter Higgins. + +"We be," sez the family. + +"Do you conjointly and severally acknowledge and assume the obligation +of deceased to me?" he asked 'em. + +"What obligation?" asked Peasley Hobart, stern like. + +"Deceased died owin' me f'r a cyclopeedy!" sez Higgins. + +"That's a lie!" sez Peasley. "We all seen him pay you for the Z!" + +"But there's another one to come," sez Higgins. + +"Another?" they all asked. + +"Yes, the index!" sez he. + +So there wuz, and I'll be eternally goll durned if he aint a-suin' the +estate in the probate court now f'r the price uv it! + + +1889. + + * * * * * + +Dock Stebbins. + + + + +DOCK STEBBINS. + + +Most everybody liked Dock Stebbins, fur all he wuz the durnedest critter +that ever lived to play jokes on folks! Seems like he wuz born jokin' +'nd kep' it up all his life. Ol' Mrs. Stebbins used to tell how when the +Dock wuz a baby he use to wake her up haff a dozen times un a night +cryin' like he wuz hungry, 'nd when she turnt over in bed to him he wud +laff 'nd coo like he wuz sayin', "No, thank ye--I wuz only foolin'!" + +His mother allus thought a heap uv the Dock, 'nd she allus put up with +his jokes 'nd things without grumblin'; said it warn't his fault that he +wuz so full uv tricks 'nd funny business; kind uv took the +responsibility uv it onto herself, because, as she allowed, she'd been +to a circus jest afore he wuz born. + +Nothin' tickled the Dock more 'n to worry folks,--not in a mean way, but +jest to sort uv bother 'em. Use to hang round the post-office 'nd +pertend to have fits,--sakes alive! but how that scared the women folks. +One day who should come along but ol' Sue Perkins; Sue wuz suspicioned +of takin' a nip uv likker on the quiet now 'nd then, but nobody had ever +ketched her at it. Wall, the Dock he had one uv his fits jest as Sue +hove in sight, 'nd Lem Thompson (who stood in with Dock in all his +deviltry) leant over Dock while he wuz wallerin' 'nd pertending to foam +at the mouth, and Lem cried out: "Nothink will fetch him out'n this turn +but a drink uv brandy." Sue, who wuz as kind-hearted a old maid as ever +superntended a strawberry festival, whipped a bottle out'n her bag 'nd +says: "Here you be, Lem, but don't let him swaller the bottle." Folks +bothered Sue a heap 'bout this joke till she moved down into Texas to +teach school. + +Dock had a piece uv wood 'bout two inches long,--maybe three: it wuz +black 'nd stubby 'nd looked jest like the butt uv a cigar. Nobody but +Dock wud ever hev thought uv sech a fool thing, but Dock use to go +round with that thing in his mouth like it wuz a cigar, and when he'd +meet a man who wuz smokin' he'd say: "Excuse me, but will you please to +gimme a light?" Then the man wud hand over his cigar, and Dock wud +plough that wood stub uv his'n around in the lighted cigar and would +pertend to puff away till he had put the real cigar out, 'nd then Dock +wud hand the cigar back, sayin', kind uv regretful like: "You don't seem +to have much uv a light there; I reckon I'll wait till I kin git a +match." You kin imagine how that other feller's cigar tasted when he +lighted it agin. Dock tried it on me oncet, 'nd when I lighted up agin +seemed like I wuz smokin' a piece uv rope or a liver pad. + +One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson went over to Peory on the railroad, 'nd +while they wuz settin' in the car in come two wimmin 'nd set in the seat +ahead uv 'em. All uv a suddint Dock nudged Lem and sez, jest loud enuff +fur the wimmin to hear: "I didn't git round till after it wuz over, but +I never see sech a sight as that baby's ear wuz." + +Lem wuz onto Dock's methods, 'nd he knew there wuz sumthin' ahead. So +he says: "Tough-lookin' ear, wuz it?" + +"Wall, I should remark," says Dock. "You see it wuz like this: the +mother had gone out into the back yard to hang some clo'es onto the +line, 'nd she laid the baby down in the crib. Baby wan't more 'n six +weeks old,--helpless little critter as ever you seen. Wall, all to oncet +the mother heerd the baby cryin', but bein' busy with them clo'es she +didn't mind much. The baby kep' cryin' 'nd cryin', 'nd at last the +mother come back into the house, 'nd there she found a big rat gnawin' +at one uv the baby's ears,--had et it nearly off! There lay that +helpless little innocent, cryin' 'nd writhin', 'nd there sat that rat +with his long tail, nippin' 'nd chewin' at one uv them tiny coral +ears--oh, it wuz offul!" + +"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the mother!" says Lem, sad like. + +"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the _baby_," sez Dock. "How'd you like to +be lyin' helpless in a crib with a big rat gnawin' your ear?" + +Wall, all this conversation wuz fur from pleasant to those two wimmin in +the front seat, fur wimmin love babies 'nd hate rats, you know. It wuz +nuts fur Dock 'nd Lem to see the two wimmin squirm, 'nd all the way to +Peory they didn't talk about nuthink but snakes 'nd spiders 'nd mice 'nd +caterpillers. When the train got to Peory a gentleman met the two wimmin +'nd sez to one uv 'em: "I'm feered the trip haint done you much good, +Lizzie," says he. "Sakes alive, John," says she, "it's a wonder we haint +dead, for we've been travellin' forty miles with a real live Beadle dime +novvell!" + +'Nuther trick Dock had wuz to walk 'long the street behind wimmin 'nd +tell about how his sister had jest lost one uv her diamond earrings +while out walkin'. Jest as soon as the wimmin heerd this they'd clap +their han's up to their ears to see if their earrings wuz all right. +Dock never laffed nor let on like he wuz jokin', but jest the same this +sort uv thing tickled him nearly to deth. + +Dock went up to Chicago with Jedge Craig oncet, 'nd when they come back +the jedge said he'd never had such an offul time in all his born days. +Said that Dock bought a fool Mother Goose book to read in the hoss-cars +jest to queer folks; would set in a hoss-car lookin' at the picturs 'nd +readin' the verses 'nd laffin' like it wuz all new to him 'nd like he +wuz a child. Everybody sized him up for a ejeot, 'nd the wimmin folks +shook their heads 'nd said it wuz orful fur so fine a lookin' feller to +be such a tom fool. 'Nuther thing Dock did wuz to git hold uv a bad +quarter 'nd give it to a beggar, 'nd then foller the beggar into a +saloon 'nd git him arrested for tryin' to pass counterfit money. I +reckon that if Dock had stayed in Chicago a week he'd have had everybody +crazy. + +No, I don't know how he come to be a medikil man. He told me oncet that +when he found out that he wuzn't good for anythink he concluded he'd be +a doctor; but I reckon that wuz one uv his jokes. He didn't have much uv +a practice: he wuz too yumorous to suit most invalids 'nd sick folks. We +had him tend our boy Sam jest oncet when Sam wuz comin' down with the +measles. He looked at Sam's tongue 'nd felt his pulse 'nd said he'd +leave a pill for Sam to take afore goin' to bed. + +"How shell we administer the pill?" asked my wife. + +"Wall," says Dock, "the best way to do is to git the boy down on the +floor 'nd hold his mouth open 'nd gag him till he swallers the pill. +After the pill gits into his system it will explode in about ten minits, +'nd then the boy will feel better." + +This wuz cheerful news for the boy. No human power cud ha' got that pill +into Sam. We never solicited Dock's perfeshional services agin. + +One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson drove over to Knoxville to help Dock +Parsons cut a man's leg off. About four miles out uv town 'nd right in +the middle uv the hot peraroor they met Moses Baker's oldest boy +trudgin' along with a basket uf eggs. The Dock whoaed his hoss 'nd +called to the boy,-- + +"Where be you goin' with them eggs?" says he. + +"Goin' to town to sell 'em," says the boy. + +"How much a dozen?" asked the Dock. + +"'Bout ten cents, I reckon," says the boy. + +"Putty likely-lookin' eggs," says the Dock; 'nd he handed the lines over +to Lem, 'nd got out'n the buggy. + +"How many hev you got?" he asked. + +"Ten dozen," says the boy. + +"Git out!" says Dock. "There haint no ten dozen eggs in that basket!" + +"Yes, there is," says the boy, "fur I counted 'em myself." + +The Dock allowed that he wuzn't goin' to take nobody's count on eggs; so +he got that fool boy to stan' there in the middle uv that hot peraroor, +claspin' his two hands together, while he, the Dock, counted them eggs +out'n the basket one by one into the boy's arms. Ten dozen eggs is a +heap; you kin imagine, maybe, how that boy looked with his arms full uv +eggs! When the Dock had got about nine dozen counted out he stopped all +uv a suddint 'nd said, "Wall, come to think on 't, I reckon I don't want +no eggs to-day, but I'm jest as much obleeged to you fur yer trouble." +And so he jumped back into the buggy 'nd drove off. + +Now, maybe that fool boy wuzn't in a peck uv trubble! There he stood in +the middle uv that hot--that all-fired hot--peraroor with his arms full +uv eggs. What wuz there fur him to do? He wuz afraid to move, lest he +should break them eggs; yet the longer he stood there the less chance +there wuz of the warm weather improvin' the eggs. + +Along in the summer of '78 the fever broke out down South, 'nd one day +Dock made up his mind that as bizness wuzn't none too good at home he'd +go down South 'nd see what he could do there. That wuz jest like one of +Dock's fool notions, we all said. But he went. In about six weeks along +come a telegraph sayin' that Dock wuz dead,--he'd died uv the fever. The +minister went up to the homestead 'nd broke the news gentle like to +Dock's mother; but, bless you! she didn't believe it--she wouldn't +believe it. She said it wuz one uv Dock's jokes; she didn't blame him, +nuther--it wuz _her_ fault, she allowed, that Dock wuz allus that way +about makin' fun uv life 'nd death. No, sir; she never believed that +Dock wuz dead, but she allus talked like he might come in any minnit; +and there wuz allus his old place set fur him at the table 'nd nuthin' +was disturbed in his little room upstairs. And so five years slipped by +'nd no Dock come back, 'nd there wuz no tidin's uv him. Uv course, the +rest uv us knew; but his mother--oh, no, _she_ never would believe it. + +At last the old lady fell sick, and the doctor said she couldn't hold +out long, she wuz so old 'nd feeble. The minister who wuz there said +that she seemed to sleep from the evenin' of this life into the mornin' +uv the next. Jest afore the last she kind uv raised up in bed and cried +out like she saw sumthin' that she loved, and she held out her arms like +there wuz some one standin' in the doorway. Then they asked her what the +matter wuz, and she says, joyful like: "He's come back, and there he +stan's jest as he use ter: I knew he wuz only jokin'!" + +They looked, but they saw nuthin'; 'nd when they went to her she wuz +dead. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + + +The Fairies of Pesth. + + + + +THE FAIRIES OF PESTH.[1] + + +An old poet walked alone in a quiet valley. His heart was heavy, and the +voices of Nature consoled him. His life had been a lonely and sad one. +Many years ago a great grief fell upon him, and it took away all his joy +and all his ambition. It was because he brooded over his sorrow, and +because he was always faithful to a memory, that the townspeople deemed +him a strange old poet; but they loved him and they loved his songs,--in +his life and in his songs there was a gentleness, a sweetness, a pathos +that touched every heart. "The strange, the dear old poet," they called +him. + +Evening was coming on. The birds made no noise; only the whip-poor-will +repeated over and over again its melancholy refrain in the marsh beyond +the meadow. The brook ran slowly, and its voice was so hushed and tiny +that you might have thought that it was saying its prayers before going +to bed. + +The old poet came to the three lindens. This was a spot he loved, it was +so far from the noise of the town. The grass under the lindens was fresh +and velvety. The air was full of fragrance, for here amid the grass grew +violets and daisies and buttercups and other modest wildflowers. Under +the lindens stood old Leeza, the witchwife. + +"Take this," said the poet to old Leeza, the witchwife; and he gave her +a silver-piece. + +"You are good to me, master poet," said the witchwife. "You have always +been good to me. I do not forget, master poet, I do not forget." + +"Why do you speak so strangely?" asked the old poet. "You mean more than +you say. Do not jest with me; my heart is heavy with sorrow." + +"I do not jest," answered the witchwife. "I will show you a strange +thing. Do as I bid you; tarry here under the lindens, and when the moon +rises, the Seven Crickets will chirp thrice; then the Raven will fly +into the west, and you will see wonderful things, and beautiful things +you will hear." + +Saying this much, old Leeza, the witchwife, stole away, and the poet +marvelled at her words. He had heard the townspeople say that old Leeza +was full of dark thoughts and of evil deeds, but he did not heed these +stories. + +"They say the same of me, perhaps," he thought. "I will tarry here +beneath the three lindens and see what may come of this whereof the +witchwife spake." + +The old poet sat amid the grass at the foot of the three lindens, and +darkness fell around him. He could see the lights in the town away off; +they twinkled like the stars that studded the sky. The whip-poor-will +told his story over and over again in the marsh beyond the meadow, and +the brook tossed and talked in its sleep, for it had played too hard +that day. + +"The moon is rising," said the old poet. "Now we shall see." + +The moon peeped over the tops of the far-off hills. She wondered whether +the world was fast asleep. She peeped again. There could be no doubt; +the world was fast asleep,--at least so thought the dear old moon. So +she stepped boldly up from behind the distant hills. The stars were glad +that she came, for she was indeed a merry old moon. + +The Seven Crickets lived in the hedge. They were brothers, and they made +famous music. When they saw the moon in the sky they sang "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, just as old Leeza, the +witchwife, said they would. + +"Whir-r-r!" It was the Raven flying out of the oak-tree into the west. +This, too, was what the old witchwife had foretold. "Whir-r-r" went the +two black wings, and then it seemed as if the Raven melted into the +night. Now, this was strange enough, but what followed was stranger +still. + +Hardly had the Raven flown away, when out from their habitations in the +moss, the flowers, and the grass trooped a legion of fairies,--yes, +right there before the old poet's eyes appeared, as if by magic, a +mighty troop of the dearest little fays in all the world. + +Each of these fairies was about the height of a cambric needle. The lady +fairies were, of course, not so tall as the gentleman fairies, but all +were of quite as comely figure as you could expect to find even among +real folk. They were quaintly dressed; the ladies wearing quilted silk +gowns and broad-brim hats with tiny feathers in them, and the gentlemen +wearing curious little knickerbockers, with silk coats, white hose, +ruffled shirts, and dainty cocked hats. + +"If the witchwife had not foretold it I should say that I dreamed," +thought the old poet. But he was not frightened. He had never harmed the +fairies, therefore he feared no evil from them. + +One of the fairies was taller than the rest, and she was much more +richly attired. It was not her crown alone that showed her to be the +queen. The others made obeisance to her as she passed through the midst +of them from her home in the bunch of red clover. Four dainty pages +preceded her, carrying a silver web which had been spun by a +black-and-yellow garden spider of great renown. This silver web the four +pages spread carefully over a violet leaf, and thereupon the queen sat +down. And when she was seated the queen sang this little song: + + "From the land of murk and mist + Fairy folk are coming + To the mead the dew has kissed, + And they dance where'er they list + To the cricket's thrumming. + + "Circling here and circling there, + Light as thought and free as air, + Hear them cry, 'Oho, oho,' + As they round the rosey go. + + "Appleblossom, Summerdew, + Thistleblow, and Ganderfeather! + Join the airy fairy crew + Dancing on the sward together! + Till the cock on yonder steeple + Gives all faery lusty warning, + Sing and dance, my little people,-- + Dance and sing 'Oho' till morning!" + +The four little fairies the queen called to must have been loitering. +But now they came scampering up,--Ganderfeather behind the others, for +he was a very fat and presumably a very lazy little fairy. + +"The elves will be here presently," said the queen, "and then, little +folk, you shall dance to your heart's content. Dance your prettiest +to-night for the good old poet is watching you." + +"Ah, little queen," cried the old poet, "you see me, then? I thought +to watch your revels unbeknown to you. But I meant you no +disrespect,--indeed, I meant you none, for surely no one ever loved +the little folk more than I." + +"We know you love us, good old poet," said the little fairy queen, "and +this night shall give you great joy and bring you into wondrous fame." + +These were words of which the old poet knew not the meaning; but we, who +live these many years after he has fallen asleep,--we know the meaning +of them. + +Then, surely enough, the elves came trooping along. They lived in the +further meadow, else they had come sooner. They were somewhat larger +than the fairies, yet they were very tiny and very delicate creatures. +The elf prince had long flaxen curls, and he was arrayed in a wonderful +suit of damask web, at the manufacture of which seventy-seven silkworms +had labored for seventy-seven days, receiving in payment therefor as +many mulberry leaves as seven blue beetles could carry and stow in seven +times seven sunny days. At his side the elf prince wore a sword made of +the sting of a yellow-jacket, and the hilt of this sword was studded +with the eyes of unhatched dragon-flies, these brighter and more +precious than the most costly diamonds. + +The elf prince sat beside the fairy queen. The other elves capered +around among the fairies. The dancing sward was very light, for a +thousand and ten glowworms came from the marsh and hung their beautiful +lamps over the spot where the little folk were assembled. If the moon +and the stars were jealous of that soft, mellow light, they had good +reason to be. + +The fairies and elves circled around in lively fashion. Their favorite +dance was the ring-round-a-rosy which many children nowadays dance. But +they had other measures, too, and they danced them very prettily. + +"I wish," said the old poet, "I wish that I had my violin here, for then +I would make merry music for you." + +The fairy queen laughed. "We have music of our own," she said, "and it +is much more beautiful than even you, dear old poet, could make." + +Then, at the queen's command, each gentleman elf offered his arm to a +lady fairy, and each gentleman fairy offered his arm to a lady elf, and +so, all being provided with partners, these little people took their +places for a waltz. The fairy queen and the elf prince were the only +ones that did not dance; they sat side by side on the violet leaf and +watched the others. The hoptoad was floor manager; the green burdock +badge on his breast showed that. + +"Mind where you go--don't jostle each other," cried the hoptoad, for he +was an exceedingly methodical fellow, despite his habit of jumping at +conclusions. + +Then, when all was ready, the Seven Crickets went "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, and away flew that host of +little fairies and little elves in the daintiest waltz imaginable:-- + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +The old poet was delighted. Never before had he seen such a sight; never +before had he heard so sweet music. Round and round whirled the sprite +dancers; the thousand and ten glowworms caught the rhythm of the music +that floated up to them, and they swung their lamps to and fro in time +with the fairy waltz. The plumes in the hats of the cunning little +ladies nodded hither and thither, and the tiny swords of the cunning +little gentlemen bobbed this way and that as the throng of dancers swept +now here, now there. With one tiny foot, upon which she wore a lovely +shoe made of a tanned flea's hide, the fairy queen beat time, yet she +heard every word which the gallant elf prince said. So, with the fairy +queen blushing, the mellow lamps swaying, the elf prince wooing, and the +throng of little folk dancing hither and thither, the fairy music went +on and on:-- + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Tell me, my fairy queen," cried the old poet, "whence comes this fairy +music which I hear? The Seven Crickets in the hedge are still, the birds +sleep in their nests, the brook dreams of the mountain home it stole +away from yester morning. Tell me, therefore, whence comes this wondrous +fairy music, and show me the strange musicians that make it." + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Look to the grass and the flowers," said the fairy queen. "In every +blade and in every bud lie hidden notes of fairy music. Each violet and +daisy and buttercup,--every modest wild-flower (no matter how hidden) +gives glad response to the tinkle of fairy feet. Dancing daintily over +this quiet sward where flowers dot the green, my little people strike +here and there and everywhere the keys which give forth the harmonies +you hear." + +Long marvelled the old poet. He forgot his sorrow, for the fairy music +stole into his heart and soothed the wound there. The fairy host swept +round and round, and the fairy music went on and on. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Why may I not dance?" asked a piping voice. "Please, dear queen, may I +not dance, too?" + +It was the little hunchback that spake,--the little hunchback fairy who, +with wistful eyes, had been watching the merry throng whirl round and +round. + +"Dear child, thou canst not dance," said the fairy queen, tenderly; +"thy little limbs are weak. Come, sit thou at my feet, and let me smooth +thy fair curls and stroke thy pale cheeks." + +"Believe me, dear queen," persisted the little hunchback, "I can dance, +and quite prettily, too. Many a time while the others made merry here I +have stolen away by myself to the brookside and danced alone in the +moonlight,--alone with my shadow. The violets are thickest there. 'Let +thy halting feet fall upon us, Little Sorrowful,' they whispered, 'and +we shall make music for thee.' So there I danced, and the violets sang +their songs for me. I could hear the others making merry far away, but I +was merry, too; for I, too, danced, and there was none to laugh." + +"If you would like it, Little Sorrowful," said the elf prince, "I will +dance with you." + +"No, brave prince," answered the little hunchback, "for that would weary +you. My crutch is stout, and it has danced with me before. You will say +that we dance very prettily,--my crutch and I,--and you will not laugh, +I know." + +Then the queen smiled sadly; she loved the little hunchback and she +pitied her. + +"It shall be as you wish," said the queen. The little hunchback was +overjoyed. + +"I have to catch the time, you see," said she, and she tapped her crutch +and swung one little shrunken foot till her body fell into the rhythm of +the waltz. + +Far daintier than the others did the little hunchback dance; now one +tiny foot and now the other tinkled on the flowers, and the point of the +little crutch fell here and there like a tear. And as she danced, there +crept into the fairy music a tenderer cadence, for (I know not why) the +little hunchback danced ever on the violets, and their responses were +full of the music of tears. There was a strange pathos in the little +creature's grace; she did not weary of the dance: her cheeks flushed, +and her eyes grew fuller, and there was a wondrous light in them. And as +the little hunchback danced, the others forgot her limp and felt only +the heart-cry in the little hunchback's merriment and in the music of +the voiceful violets. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +Now all this saw the old poet, and all this wondrously beautiful music +he heard. And as he heard and saw these things, he thought of the pale +face, the weary eyes, and the tired little body that slept forever now. +He thought of the voice that had tried to be cheerful for his sake, of +the thin, patient little hands that had loved to do his bidding, of the +halting little feet that had hastened to his calling. + +"Is it thy spirit, O my love?" he wailed. "Is it thy spirit, O dear, +dead love?" + +A mist came before his eyes, and his heart gave a great cry. + +But the fairy dance went on and on. The others swept to and fro and +round and round, but the little hunchback danced always on the violets, +and through the other music there could be plainly heard, as it crept in +and out, the mournful cadence of those tenderer flowers. + +And, with the music and the dancing, the night faded into morning. And +all at once the music ceased and the little folk could be seen no more. +The birds came from their nests, the brook began to bestir himself, and +the breath of the new-born day called upon all in that quiet valley to +awaken. + +So many years have passed since the old poet, sitting under the three +lindens half a league the other side of Pesth, saw the fairies dance and +heard the fairy music,--so many years have passed since then, that had +the old poet not left us an echo of that fairy waltz there would be none +now to believe the story I tell. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +Who knows but that this very night the elves and the fairies will dance +in the quiet valley; that Little Sorrowful will tinkle her maimed feet +upon the singing violets, and that the little folk will illustrate in +their revels, through which a tone of sadness steals, the comedy and +pathos of our lives? Perhaps no one shall see, perhaps no one else ever +did see, these fairy people dance their pretty dances; but we who have +heard old Robert Volkmann's waltz know full well that he at least saw +that strange sight and heard that wondrous music. + +And you will know so, too, when you have read this true story and heard +old Volkmann's claim to immortality. + +1887. + + +THE END. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1: The music arranged by Mr. Theodore Thomas.] + + + + + ++--------------------------------------------------------------+ +| | +| Transcriber's note: | +| | +| Page 75 'frowardness' changed to 'forwardness' | +| | +| Page 219. 'her' changed to 'here' | +| | +| | ++--------------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35440-8.txt or 35440-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/4/35440/ + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/35440-8.zip b/35440-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6b0449 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-8.zip diff --git a/35440-h.zip b/35440-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e84c1b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h.zip diff --git a/35440-h/35440-h.htm b/35440-h/35440-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50c9325 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/35440-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5544 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +/* Transcriber's Note and Corrections */ + + .tnote { border: dashed 1px; + padding: 1em; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-right: 0%; + margin-bottom: 3em; + margin-left: 0%; + page-break-after: always; } + + .tnote p { text-indent: 0em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: .5em; font-size: 90%; } + + .tnote h3 { text-indent: 0em; margin-left: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 100%; + font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +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: A Little Book of Profitable Tales + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35440] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/001.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="cover" title="" /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="200" height="34" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h5>OF<br /></h5> + +<h3>PROFITABLE TALES<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="390" height="485" alt="" title="" /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="200" height="34" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h5>OF<br /></h5> + +<h2>PROFITABLE TALES<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h2> + +<h5>BY<br /></h5> + +<h3>EUGENE FIELD<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h3> + +<h3>NEW YORK<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h3> +<h4>1894<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h4> + + + +<h5> +<i>Copyright, 1889</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Eugene Field</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h5> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/005.png" width="150" height="27" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h5><span class="smcap">John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></h5> + + + + +<h4> +TO<br /></h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">My Severest Critic, my most Loyal Admirer,<br /> +and my Only Daughter,</span><br /></h4> + +<h3>MARY FRENCH FIELD,</h3> + +<h4><i>THIS LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES</i><br /></h4> + +<h5>IS<br /></h5> + +<h4><i>Affectionately Dedicated</i>.<br /></h4> + +<p style="margin-left: 55%;">E. F.<br /></p> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>The Tales in this Little Book.</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The First Christmas Tree</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Symbol and the Saint</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Coming of the Prince</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Mouse and the Moonbeam</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Divell's Chrystmasse</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Mountain and the Sea</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Robin and the Violet</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Oak-Tree and the Ivy</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Margaret: a Pearl</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Springtime</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rodolph and his King</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Hampshire Hills</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ezra's Thanksgivin' out West</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Ludwig and Eloise</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fido's Little Friend</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Old Man</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bill, the Lokil Editor</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Little Yaller Baby</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Cyclopeedy</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Dock Stebbins</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fairies of Pesth</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/010.png" width="350" height="180" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time the forest was in a great +commotion. Early in the evening the +wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously +and predicted strange things. They +had lived in the forest many, many years; but +never had they seen such marvellous sights as +were to be seen now in the sky, and upon the +hills, and in the distant village.</p> + +<p>"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little +vine; "we who are not as tall as you can behold +none of these wonderful things. Describe +them to us, that we may enjoy them with you."</p> + +<p>"I am filled with such amazement," said one +of the cedars, "that I can hardly speak. The +whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear +to be dancing among the clouds; angels +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>walk down from heaven to the earth, and enter +the village or talk with the shepherds upon the +hills."</p> + +<p>The vine listened in mute astonishment. Such +things never before had happened. The vine +trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor +was a tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever +was noticed; yet it was a very beautiful little +tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and +other humble residents of the forest loved it +dearly.</p> + +<p>"How I should like to see the angels!" sighed +the little tree, "and how I should like to see the +stars dancing among the clouds! It must be +very beautiful."</p> + +<p>As the vine and the little tree talked of these +things, the cedars watched with increasing interest +the wonderful scenes over and beyond the +confines of the forest. Presently they thought +they heard music, and they were not mistaken, +for soon the whole air was full of the sweetest +harmonies ever heard upon earth.</p> + +<p>"What beautiful music!" cried the little tree. +"I wonder whence it comes."</p> + +<p>"The angels are singing," said a cedar; "for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>none but angels could make such sweet music."</p> + +<p>"But the stars are singing, too," said another +cedar; "yes, and the shepherds on the hills +join in the song, and what a strangely glorious +song it is!"</p> + +<p>The trees listened to the singing, but they did +not understand its meaning: it seemed to be an +anthem, and it was of a Child that had been +born; but further than this they did not understand. +The strange and glorious song continued +all the night; and all that night the +angels walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk +talked with the angels, and the stars +danced and carolled in high heaven. And it +was nearly morning when the cedars cried +out, "They are coming to the forest! the angels +are coming to the forest!" And, surely +enough, this was true. The vine and the little +tree were very terrified, and they begged +their older and stronger neighbors to protect +them from harm. But the cedars were too +busy with their own fears to pay any heed to +the faint pleadings of the humble vine and the +little tree. The angels came into the forest, +singing the same glorious anthem about the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>Child, and the stars sang in chorus with them, +until every part of the woods rang with echoes +of that wondrous song. There was nothing in +the appearance of this angel host to inspire +fear; they were clad all in white, and there +were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden +harps in their hands; love, hope, charity, compassion, +and joy beamed from their beautiful +faces, and their presence seemed to fill the +forest with a divine peace. The angels came +through the forest to where the little tree +stood, and gathering around it, they touched +it with their hands, and kissed its little +branches, and sang even more sweetly than +before. And their song was about the Child, +the Child, the Child that had been born. +Then the stars came down from the skies +and danced and hung upon the branches of +the tree, and they, too, sang that song,—the +song of the Child. And all the other trees +and the vines and the ferns and the mosses beheld +in wonder; nor could they understand why +all these things were being done, and why this +exceeding honor should be shown the little tree.</p> + +<p>When the morning came the angels left the +forest,—all but one angel, who remained be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>hind +and lingered near the little tree. Then a +cedar asked: "Why do you tarry with us, holy +angel?" And the angel answered: "I stay to +guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no +harm shall come to it."</p> + +<p>The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, +and it held up its head more confidently +than ever before. And how it thrived +and grew, and waxed in strength and beauty! +The cedars said they never had seen the like. +The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays +upon the little tree, heaven dropped its sweetest +dew upon it, and the winds never came to +the forest that they did not forget their rude +manners and linger to kiss the little tree and +sing it their prettiest songs. No danger ever +menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel +never slept,—through the day and through +the night the angel watched the little tree and +protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees +talked with the angel; but of course they understood +little of what he said, for he spoke +always of the Child who was to become the +Master; and always when thus he talked, he +caressed the little tree, and stroked its branches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. +It all was so very strange that none in the forest +could understand.</p> + +<p>So the years passed, the angel watching his +blooming charge. Sometimes the beasts strayed +toward the little tree and threatened to devour +its tender foliage; sometimes the woodman +came with his axe, intent upon hewing down +the straight and comely thing; sometimes the +hot, consuming breath of drought swept from +the south, and sought to blight the forest and +all its verdure: the angel kept them from the +little tree. Serene and beautiful it grew, until +now it was no longer a little tree, but the pride +and glory of the forest.</p> + +<p>One day the tree heard some one coming +through the forest. Hitherto the angel had +hastened to its side when men approached; +but now the angel strode away and stood +under the cedars yonder.</p> + +<p>"Dear angel," cried the tree, "can you not +hear the footsteps of some one approaching? +Why do you leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Have no fear," said the angel; "for He +who comes is the Master."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Master came to the tree and beheld it. +He placed His hands upon its smooth trunk +and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a +strange and glorious delight. Then He stooped +and kissed the tree, and then He turned and +went away.</p> + +<p>Many times after that the Master came to the +forest, and when He came it always was to where +the tree stood. Many times He rested beneath +the tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage, +and listened to the music of the wind as it +swept through the rustling leaves. Many times +He slept there, and the tree watched over Him, +and the forest was still, and all its voices were +hushed. And the angel hovered near like a +faithful sentinel.</p> + +<p>Ever and anon men came with the Master to +the forest, and sat with Him in the shade of +the tree, and talked with Him of matters which +the tree never could understand; only it heard +that the talk was of love and charity and gentleness, +and it saw that the Master was beloved +and venerated by the others. It heard them tell +of the Master's goodness and humility,—how +He had healed the sick and raised the dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +and bestowed inestimable blessings wherever +He walked. And the tree loved the Master +for His beauty and His goodness; and when +He came to the forest it was full of joy, but +when He came not it was sad. And the other +trees of the forest joined in its happiness and +its sorrow, for they, too, loved the Master. And +the angel always hovered near.</p> + +<p>The Master came one night alone into the +forest, and His face was pale with anguish and +wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and +prayed. The tree heard Him, and all the forest +was still, as if it were standing in the presence +of death. And when the morning came, +lo! the angel had gone.</p> + +<p>Then there was a great confusion in the forest. +There was a sound of rude voices, and a +clashing of swords and staves. Strange men +appeared, uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, +and the tree was filled with terror. It called +aloud for the angel, but the angel came not.</p> + +<p>"Alas," cried the vine, "they have come to destroy +the tree, the pride and glory of the forest!"</p> + +<p>The forest was sorely agitated, but it was in +vain. The strange men plied their axes with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the +ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away +and cast aside, and its soft, thick foliage was +strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds.</p> + +<p>"They are killing me!" cried the tree; +"why is not the angel here to protect me?"</p> + +<p>But no one heard the piteous cry,—none +but the other trees of the forest; and they wept, +and the little vine wept too.</p> + +<p>Then the cruel men dragged the despoiled +and hewn tree from the forest, and the forest +saw that beauteous thing no more.</p> + +<p>But the night wind that swept down from the +City of the Great King that night to ruffle the +bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the forest +awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross +upraised on Calvary,—the tree on which was +stretched the body of the dying Master.</p> + +<p>1884.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/022.png" width="350" height="168" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time a young man made ready for a voyage. His name was +Norss; broad were his shoulders, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was +fair and long, his body betokened strength, and good-nature shone from +his blue eyes and lurked about the corners of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked his neighbor Jans, the forge-master.</p> + +<p>"I am going sailing for a wife," said Norss.</p> + +<p>"For a wife, indeed!" cried Jans. "And why go you to seek her in foreign +lands? Are not our maidens good enough and fair enough, that you must +need search for a wife elsewhere? For shame, Norss! for shame!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>But Norss said, "A spirit came to me in my dreams last night and said, +'Launch the boat and set sail to-morrow. Have no fear; for I will guide +you to the bride that awaits you.' Then, standing there, all white and +beautiful, the spirit held forth a symbol—such as I had never before +seen—in the figure of a cross, and the spirit said: 'By this symbol +shall she be known to you.'"</p> + +<p>"If this be so, you must need go," said Jans. "But are you well +victualled? Come to my cabin, and let me give you venison and bear's +meat."</p> + +<p>Norss shook his head. "The spirit will provide," said he. "I have no +fear, and I shall take no care, trusting in the spirit."</p> + +<p>So Norss pushed his boat down the beach into the sea, and leaped into +the boat, and unfurled the sail to the wind. Jans stood wondering on the +beach, and watched the boat speed out of sight.</p> + +<p>On, on, many days on sailed Norss,—so many leagues that he thought he +must have compassed the earth. In all this time he knew no hunger nor +thirst; it was as the spirit had told him in his dream,—no cares nor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>dangers beset him. By day the dolphins and the other creatures of the +sea gambolled about his boat; by night a beauteous Star seemed to direct +his course; and when he slept and dreamed, he saw ever the spirit clad +in white, and holding forth to him the symbol in the similitude of a +cross.</p> + +<p>At last he came to a strange country,—a country so very different from +his own that he could scarcely trust his senses. Instead of the rugged +mountains of the North, he saw a gentle landscape of velvety green; the +trees were not pines and firs, but cypresses, cedars, and palms; instead +of the cold, crisp air of his native land, he scented the perfumed +zephyrs of the Orient; and the wind that filled the sail of his boat and +smote his tanned cheeks was heavy and hot with the odor of cinnamon and +spices. The waters were calm and blue,—very different from the white +and angry waves of Norss's native fiord.</p> + +<p>As if guided by an unseen hand, the boat pointed straight for the beach +of this strangely beautiful land; and ere its prow cleaved the shallower +waters, Norss saw a maiden standing on the shore, shading her eyes with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>her right hand, and gazing intently at him. She was the most beautiful +maiden he had ever looked upon. As Norss was fair, so was this maiden +dark; her black hair fell loosely about her shoulders in charming +contrast with the white raiment in which her slender, graceful form was +clad. Around her neck she wore a golden chain, and therefrom was +suspended a small symbol, which Norss did not immediately recognize.</p> + +<p>"Hast thou come sailing out of the North into the East?" asked the +maiden.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Norss.</p> + +<p>"And thou art Norss?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am Norss; and I come seeking my bride," he answered.</p> + +<p>"I am she," said the maiden. "My name is Faia. An angel came to me in my +dreams last night, and the angel said: 'Stand upon the beach to-day, and +Norss shall come out of the North to bear thee home a bride.' So, coming +here, I found thee sailing to our shore."</p> + +<p>Remembering then the spirit's words, Norss said: "What symbol have you, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>Faia, that I may know how truly you have spoken?"</p> + +<p>"No symbol have I but this," said Faia, holding out the symbol that was +attached to the golden chain about her neck. Norss looked upon it, and +lo! it was the symbol of his dreams,—a tiny wooden cross.</p> + +<p>Then Norss clasped Faia in his arms and kissed her, and entering into +the boat they sailed away into the North. In all their voyage neither +care nor danger beset them; for as it had been told to them in their +dreams, so it came to pass. By day the dolphins and the other creatures +of the sea gambolled about them; by night the winds and the waves sang +them to sleep; and, strangely enough, the Star which before had led +Norss into the East, now shone bright and beautiful in the Northern sky!</p> + +<p>When Norss and his bride reached their home, Jans, the forge-master, and +the other neighbors made great joy, and all said that Faia was more +beautiful than any other maiden in the land. So merry was Jans that he +built a huge fire in his forge, and the flames thereof filled the whole +Northern sky with rays of light that danced up, up, up to the Star, +singing glad songs the while. So Norss and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> Faia were wed, and they went +to live in the cabin in the fir-grove.</p> + +<p>To these two was born in good time a son, whom they named Claus. On the +night that he was born wondrous things came to pass. To the cabin in the +fir-grove came all the quaint, weird spirits,—the fairies, the elves, +the trolls, the pixies, the fadas, the crions, the goblins, the kobolds, +the moss-people, the gnomes, the dwarfs, the water-sprites, the courils, +the bogles, the brownies, the nixies, the trows, the stille-volk,—all +came to the cabin in the fir-grove, and capered about and sang the +strange, beautiful songs of the Mist-Land. And the flames of old Jans's +forge leaped up higher than ever into the Northern sky, carrying the +joyous tidings to the Star, and full of music was that happy night.</p> + +<p>Even in infancy Claus did marvellous things. With his baby hands he +wrought into pretty figures the willows that were given him to play +with. As he grew older, he fashioned, with the knife old Jans had made +for him, many curious toys,—carts, horses, dogs, lambs, houses, trees, +cats, and birds, all of wood and very like to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> nature. His mother taught +him how to make dolls too,—dolls of every kind, condition, temper, and +color; proud dolls, homely dolls, boy dolls, lady dolls, wax dolls, +rubber dolls, paper dolls, worsted dolls, rag dolls,—dolls of every +description and without end. So Claus became at once quite as popular +with the little girls as with the little boys of his native village; for +he was so generous that he gave away all these pretty things as fast as +he made them.</p> + +<p>Claus seemed to know by instinct every language. As he grew older he +would ramble off into the woods and talk with the trees, the rocks, and +the beasts of the greenwood; or he would sit on the cliffs overlooking +the fiord, and listen to the stories that the waves of the sea loved to +tell him; then, too, he knew the haunts of the elves and the +stille-volk, and many a pretty tale he learned from these little people. +When night came, old Jans told him the quaint legends of the North, and +his mother sang to him the lullabies she had heard when a little child +herself in the far-distant East. And every night his mother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> held out to +him the symbol in the similitude of the cross, and bade him kiss it ere +he went to sleep.</p> + +<p>So Claus grew to manhood, increasing each day in knowledge and in +wisdom. His works increased too; and his liberality dispensed everywhere +the beauteous things which his fancy conceived and his skill executed. +Jans, being now a very old man, and having no son of his own, gave to +Claus his forge and workshop, and taught him those secret arts which he +in youth had learned from cunning masters. Right joyous now was Claus; +and many, many times the Northern sky glowed with the flames that danced +singing from the forge while Claus moulded his pretty toys. Every color +of the rainbow were these flames; for they reflected the bright colors +of the beauteous things strewn round that wonderful workshop. Just as of +old he had dispensed to all children alike the homelier toys of his +youth, so now he gave to all children alike these more beautiful and +more curious gifts. So little children everywhere loved Claus, because +he gave them pretty toys, and their parents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> loved him because he made +their little ones so happy.</p> + +<p>But now Norss and Faia were come to old age. After long years of love +and happiness, they knew that death could not be far distant. And one +day Faia said to Norss: "Neither you nor I, dear love, fear death; but +if we could choose, would we not choose to live always in this our son +Claus, who has been so sweet a joy to us?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," said Norss; "but how is that possible?"</p> + +<p>"We shall see," said Faia.</p> + +<p>That night Norss dreamed that a spirit came to him, and that the spirit +said to him: "Norss, thou shalt surely live forever in thy son Claus, if +thou wilt but acknowledge the symbol."</p> + +<p>Then when the morning was come Norss told his dream to Faia, his wife; +and Faia said,—</p> + +<p>"The same dream had I,—an angel appearing to me and speaking these very +words."</p> + +<p>"But what of the symbol?" cried Norss.</p> + +<p>"I have it here, about my neck," said Faia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>So saying, Faia drew from her bosom the symbol of wood,—a tiny cross +suspended about her neck by the golden chain. And as she stood there +holding the symbol out to Norss, he—he thought of the time when first +he saw her on the far-distant Orient shore, standing beneath the Star in +all her maidenly glory, shading her beauteous eyes with one hand, and +with the other clasping the cross,—the holy talisman of her faith.</p> + +<p>"Faia, Faia!" cried Norss, "it is the same,—the same you wore when I +fetched you a bride from the East!"</p> + +<p>"It is the same," said Faia, "yet see how my kisses and my prayers have +worn it away; for many, many times in these years, dear Norss, have I +pressed it to my lips and breathed your name upon it. See now—see what +a beauteous light its shadow makes upon your aged face!"</p> + +<p>The sunbeams, indeed, streaming through the window at that moment, cast +the shadow of the symbol on old Norss's brow. Norss felt a glorious +warmth suffuse him, his heart leaped with joy, and he stretched out his +arms and fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> about Faia's neck, and kissed the symbol and acknowledged +it. Then likewise did Faia; and suddenly the place was filled with a +wondrous brightness and with strange music, and never thereafter were +Norss and Faia beholden of men.</p> + +<p>Until late that night Claus toiled at his forge; for it was a busy +season with him, and he had many, many curious and beauteous things to +make for the little children in the country round about. The colored +flames leaped singing from his forge, so that the Northern sky seemed to +be lighted by a thousand rainbows; but above all this voiceful glory +beamed the Star, bright, beautiful, serene.</p> + +<p>Coming late to the cabin in the fir-grove, Claus wondered that no sign +of his father or of his mother was to be seen. "Father—mother!" he +cried, but he received no answer. Just then the Star cast its golden +gleam through the latticed window, and this strange, holy light fell and +rested upon the symbol of the cross that lay upon the floor. Seeing it, +Claus stooped and picked it up, and kissing it reverently, he cried: +"Dear talisman, be thou my inspiration evermore; and wheresoever thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +blessed influence is felt, there also let my works be known henceforth +forever!"</p> + +<p>No sooner had he said these words than Claus felt the gift of +immortality bestowed upon him; and in that moment, too, there came to +him a knowledge that his parents' prayer had been answered, and that +Norss and Faia would live in him through all time.</p> + +<p>And lo! to that place and in that hour came all the people of Mist-Land +and of Dream-Land to declare allegiance to him: yes, the elves, the +fairies, the pixies,—all came to Claus, prepared to do his bidding. +Joyously they capered about him, and merrily they sang.</p> + +<p>"Now haste ye all," cried Claus,—"haste ye all to your homes and bring +to my workshop the best ye have. Search, little hill-people, deep in the +bowels of the earth for finest gold and choicest jewels; fetch me, O +mermaids, from the bottom of the sea the treasures hidden there,—the +shells of rainbow tints, the smooth, bright pebbles, and the strange +ocean flowers; go, pixies, and other water-sprites, to your secret +lakes, and bring me pearls! Speed! speed you all! for many pretty +things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> have we to make for the little ones of earth we love!"</p> + +<p>But to the kobolds and the brownies Claus said: "Fly to every house on +earth where the cross is known; loiter unseen in the corners, and watch +and hear the children through the day. Keep a strict account of good and +bad, and every night bring back to me the names of good and bad, that I +may know them."</p> + +<p>The kobolds and the brownies laughed gleefully, and sped away on +noiseless wings; and so, too, did the other fairies and elves.</p> + +<p>There came also to Claus the beasts of the forest and the birds of the +air, and bade him be their master. And up danced the Four Winds, and +they said: "May we not serve you, too?"</p> + +<p>The Snow King came stealing along in his feathery chariot. "Oho!" he +cried, "I shall speed over all the world and tell them you are +coming. In town and country, on the mountain-tops and in the +valleys,—wheresoever the cross is raised,—there will I herald your +approach, and thither will I strew you a pathway of feathery white. +Oho! oho!" So, singing softly, the Snow King stole upon his way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>But of all the beasts that begged to do him service, Claus liked the +reindeer best. "You shall go with me in my travels; for henceforth I +shall bear my treasures not only to the children of the North, but to +the children in every land whither the Star points me and where the +cross is lifted up!" So said Claus to the reindeer, and the reindeer +neighed joyously and stamped their hoofs impatiently, as though they +longed to start immediately.</p> + +<p>Oh, many, many times has Claus whirled away from his far Northern home +in his sledge drawn by the reindeer, and thousands upon thousands of +beautiful gifts—all of his own making—has he borne to the children of +every land; for he loves them all alike, and they all alike love him, I +trow. So truly do they love him that they call him Santa Claus, and I am +sure that he must be a saint; for he has lived these many hundred years, +and we, who know that he was born of Faith and Love, believe that he +will live forever.</p> + +<p>1886.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/038.png" width="350" height="180" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE COMING OF THE PRINCE.</h2> + + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" said the wind, and it tore through +the streets of the city that Christmas eve, turning umbrellas inside +out, driving the snow in fitful gusts before it, creaking the rusty +signs and shutters, and playing every kind of rude prank it could think +of.</p> + +<p>"How cold your breath is to-night!" said Barbara, with a shiver, as she +drew her tattered little shawl the closer around her benumbed body.</p> + +<p>"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" answered the wind; "but why are you +out in this storm? You should be at home by the warm fire."</p> + +<p>"I have no home," said Barbara; and then she sighed bitterly, and +something like a tiny pearl came in the corner of one of her sad blue +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>eyes.</p> + +<p>But the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street +to throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was struggling +along with a huge basket of good things on each arm.</p> + +<p>"Why are you not at the cathedral?" asked a snowflake, as it alighted on +Barbara's shoulder. "I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights there +as I floated down from the sky a moment ago."</p> + +<p>"What are they doing at the cathedral?" inquired Barbara.</p> + +<p>"Why, haven't you heard?" exclaimed the snowflake. "I supposed everybody +knew that the prince was coming to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve," said Barbara, "and the prince +will come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Barbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how +beautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the +little children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to tell +Barbara of the prince and his coming,—none but the little snowflake.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"I should like to see the prince," said Barbara, "for I have heard he +was very beautiful and good."</p> + +<p>"That he is," said the snowflake. "I have never seen him, but I heard +the pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" cried the wind, returning boisterously to where +Barbara stood. "I've been looking for you everywhere, little snowflake! +So come with me."</p> + +<p>And without any further ado, the wind seized upon the snowflake and +hurried it along the street and led it a merry dance through the icy air +of the winter night.</p> + +<p>Barbara trudged on through the snow and looked in at the bright things +in the shop windows. The glitter of the lights and the sparkle of the +vast array of beautiful Christmas toys quite dazzled her. A strange +mingling of admiration, regret, and envy filled the poor little +creature's heart.</p> + +<p>"Much as I may yearn to have them, it cannot be," she said to herself, +"yet I may feast my eyes upon them."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>"Go away from here!" said a harsh voice.</p> + +<p>"How can the rich people see all my fine things if you stand before the +window? Be off with you, you miserable little beggar!"</p> + +<p>It was the shop-keeper, and he gave Barbara a savage box on the ear that +sent her reeling into the deeper snowdrifts of the gutter.</p> + +<p>Presently she came to a large house where there seemed to be much mirth +and festivity. The shutters were thrown open, and through the windows +Barbara could see a beautiful Christmas tree in the centre of a spacious +room,—a beautiful Christmas tree ablaze with red and green lights, and +heavy with toys and stars and glass balls, and other beautiful things +that children love. There was a merry throng around the tree, and the +children were smiling and gleeful, and all in that house seemed content +and happy. Barbara heard them singing, and their song was about the +prince who was to come on the morrow.</p> + +<p>"This must be the house where the prince will stop," thought Barbara. +"How I would like to see his face and hear his voice!—yet what would he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>care for <i>me</i>, a 'miserable little beggar'?"</p> + +<p>So Barbara crept on through the storm, shivering and disconsolate, yet +thinking of the prince.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she asked of the wind as it overtook her.</p> + +<p>"To the cathedral," laughed the wind. "The great people are flocking +there, and I will have a merry time amongst them, ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>And with laughter the wind whirled away and chased the snow toward the +cathedral.</p> + +<p>"It is there, then, that the prince will come," thought Barbara. "It is +a beautiful place, and the people will pay him homage there. Perhaps I +shall see him if I go there."</p> + +<p>So she went to the cathedral. Many folk were there in their richest +apparel, and the organ rolled out its grand music, and the people sang +wondrous songs, and the priests made eloquent prayers; and the music, +and the songs, and the prayers were all about the prince and his +expected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice +talked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara +really loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the +people say of him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Please, can I go and sit inside?" inquired Barbara of the sexton.</p> + +<p>"No!" said the sexton, gruffly, for this was an important occasion with +the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child.</p> + +<p>"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please may I not +see the prince?"</p> + +<p>"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you for +the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and don't be +blocking up the doorway!" So the sexton gave Barbara an angry push, and +the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the cathedral. She began +to cry. Some great people were entering the cathedral at the time, and +they laughed to see her falling.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on Barbara's +cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to her shawl an +hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his boisterous search.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara, in tears; "but what cares the prince for +<i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> snowflake. "Go to the +forest and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the +forest to the city."</p> + +<p>Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In the +forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would not +see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines.</p> + +<p>"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once more; +and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to streaming +in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek and sent it +spinning through the air.</p> + +<p>Barbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the +watchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked +her who she was and where she was going.</p> + +<p>"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest," said she, boldly.</p> + +<p>"Into the forest?" cried the watchman, "and in this storm? No, child; +you will perish!"</p> + +<p>"But I am going to see the prince," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> Barbara. "They will not let me +watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so I am +going into the forest."</p> + +<p>The watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his own +little girl at home.</p> + +<p>"No, you must not go to the forest," said he, "for you would perish with +the cold."</p> + +<p>But Barbara would not stay. She avoided the watchman's grasp and ran as +fast as ever she could through the city gate.</p> + +<p>"Come back, come back!" cried the watchman; "you will perish in the +forest!"</p> + +<p>But Barbara would not heed his cry. The falling snow did not stay her, +nor did the cutting blast. She thought only of the prince, and she ran +straightway to the forest.</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>"What do you see up there, O pine-tree?" asked a little vine in the +forest. "You lift your head among the clouds to-night, and you tremble +strangely as if you saw wondrous sights."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I see only the distant hill-tops and the dark clouds," answered the +pine-tree. "And the wind sings of the snow-king to-night; to all my +questionings he says, 'Snow, snow, snow,' till I am wearied with his +refrain."</p> + +<p>"But the prince will surely come to-morrow?" inquired the tiny snowdrop +that nestled close to the vine.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said the vine. "I heard the country folks talking about it as +they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince would +surely come on the morrow."</p> + +<p>"What are you little folks down there talking about?" asked the +pine-tree.</p> + +<p>"We are talking about the prince," said the vine.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is to come on the morrow," said the pine-tree, "but not until +the day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the fir-tree, "the east is black, and only the wind and the +snow issue from it."</p> + +<p>"Keep your head out of my way!" cried the pine-tree to the fir; "with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>your constant bobbing around I can hardly see at all."</p> + +<p>"Take <i>that</i> for your bad manners," retorted the fir, slapping the +pine-tree savagely with one of her longest branches.</p> + +<p>The pine-tree would put up with no such treatment, so he hurled his +largest cone at the fir; and for a moment or two it looked as if there +were going to be a serious commotion in the forest.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" cried the vine in a startled tone; "there is some one coming +through the forest."</p> + +<p>The pine-tree and the fir stopped quarrelling, and the snowdrop nestled +closer to the vine, while the vine hugged the pine-tree very tightly. +All were greatly alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said the pine-tree, in a tone of assumed bravery. "No one +would venture into the forest at such an hour."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! and why not?" cried a child's voice. "Will you not let me watch +with you for the coming of the prince?"</p> + +<p>"Will you not chop me down?" inquired the pine-tree, gruffly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>"Will you not tear me from my tree?" asked the vine.</p> + +<p>"Will you not pluck my blossoms?" plaintively piped the snowdrop.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," said Barbara; "I have come only to watch with you +for the prince."</p> + +<p>Then Barbara told them who she was, and how cruelly she had been treated +in the city, and how she longed to see the prince, who was to come on +the morrow. And as she talked, the forest and all therein felt a great +compassion for her.</p> + +<p>"Lie at my feet," said the pine-tree, "and I will protect you."</p> + +<p>"Nestle close to me, and I will chafe your temples and body and limbs +till they are warm," said the vine.</p> + +<p>"Let me rest upon your cheek, and I will sing you my little songs," said +the snowdrop.</p> + +<p>And Barbara felt very grateful for all these homely kindnesses. She +rested in the velvety snow at the foot of the pine-tree, and the vine +chafed her body and limbs, and the little flower sang sweet songs to +her.</p> + +<p>"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" There was that noisy wind again, but this time +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>it was gentler than it had been in the city.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, my little Barbara," said the wind, in kindly tones. "I +have brought you the little snowflake. I am glad you came away from the +city, for the people are proud and haughty there; oh, but I will have my +fun with them!"</p> + +<p>Then, having dropped the little snowflake on Barbara's cheek, the wind +whisked off to the city again. And we can imagine that it played rare +pranks with the proud, haughty folk on its return; for the wind, as you +know, is no respecter of persons.</p> + +<p>"Dear Barbara," said the snowflake, "I will watch with thee for the +coming of the prince."</p> + +<p>And Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so +pure and innocent and gentle.</p> + +<p>"Tell us, O pine-tree," cried the vine, "what do you see in the east? +Has the prince yet entered the forest?"</p> + +<p>"The east is full of black clouds," said the pine-tree, "and the winds +that hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow."</p> + +<p>"But the city is full of brightness," said the fir. "I can see the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>lights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the prince +and his coming."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral," said Barbara, +sadly.</p> + +<p>"But we shall see him first," whispered the vine, reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the prince will come through the forest," said the little +snowdrop, gleefully.</p> + +<p>"Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory," +cried the snowflake.</p> + +<p>Then all at once there was a strange hubbub in the forest; for it was +midnight, and the spirits came from their hiding-places to prowl about +and to disport themselves. Barbara beheld them all in great wonder and +trepidation, for she had never before seen the spirits of the forest, +although she had often heard of them. It was a marvellous sight.</p> + +<p>"Fear nothing," whispered the vine to Barbara,—"fear nothing, for they +dare not touch you."</p> + +<p>The antics of the wood-spirits continued but an hour; for then a cock +crowed, and immediately thereat, with a wondrous scurrying, the elves +and the gnomes and the other grotesque<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> spirits sought their abiding +places in the caves and in the hollow trunks and under the loose bark of +the trees. And then it was very quiet once more in the forest.</p> + +<p>"It is very cold," said Barbara. "My hands and feet are like ice."</p> + +<p>Then the pine-tree and the fir shook down the snow from their broad +boughs, and the snow fell upon Barbara and covered her like a white +mantle.</p> + +<p>"You will be warm now," said the vine, kissing Barbara's forehead. And +Barbara smiled.</p> + +<p>Then the snowdrop sang a lullaby about the moss that loved the violet. +And Barbara said, "I am going to sleep; will you wake me when the prince +comes through the forest?"</p> + +<p>And they said they would. So Barbara fell asleep.</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>"The bells in the city are ringing merrily," said the fir, "and the +music in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before. Can it +be that the prince has already come into the city?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," cried the pine-tree, "look to the east and see the Christmas day +a-dawning! The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the forest!"</p> + +<p>The storm had ceased. Snow lay upon all the earth. The hills, the +forest, the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the +storm-king had thrown over them. Content with his wondrous work, the +storm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of +the Christmas day. Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful. +And most beautiful was the great hymn of praise the forest sang that +Christmas morning,—the pine-trees and the firs and the vines and the +snow-flowers that sang of the prince and of his promised coming.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, little one," cried the vine, "for the prince is coming!"</p> + +<p>But Barbara slept; she did not hear the vine's soft calling, nor the +lofty music of the forest.</p> + +<p>A little snow-bird flew down from the fir-tree's bough and perched upon +the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>ing and of +the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear the carol +of the bird.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" sighed the vine, "Barbara will not awaken, and the prince is +coming."</p> + +<p>Then the vine and the snowdrop wept, and the pine-tree and the fir were +very sad.</p> + +<p>The prince came through the forest clad in royal raiment and wearing a +golden crown. Angels came with him, and the forest sang a great hymn +unto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been heard on earth. +The prince came to the sleeping child and smiled upon her and called her +by name.</p> + +<p>"Barbara, my little one," said the prince, "awaken, and come with me."</p> + +<p>Then Barbara opened her eyes and beheld the prince. And it seemed as if +a new life had come to her, for there was warmth in her body, and a +flush upon her cheeks and a light in her eyes that were divine. And she +was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and upon +the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels wear. And +as Barbara arose and went to the prince, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> little snowflake fell from +her cheek upon her bosom, and forthwith became a pearl more precious +than all other jewels upon earth.</p> + +<p>And the prince took Barbara in his arms and blessed her, and turning +round about, returned with the little child unto his home, while the +forest and the sky and the angels sang a wondrous song.</p> + +<p>The city waited for the prince, but he did not come. None knew of the +glory of the forest that Christmas morning, nor of the new life that +came to little Barbara.</p> + + +<p><i>Come thou, dear Prince, oh, come to us this holy Christmas time! Come +to the busy marts of earth, the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the +humble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch every human heart, +that we may know that love, and in its blessed peace bear charity to all +mankind!</i></p> + + +<p>1886.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/058.png" width="350" height="155" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM.</h2> + + +<p>Whilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-Soul, strange things happened; +but that I saw and heard them, I should never have believed them. The +clock stood, of course, in the corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the +floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner +and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. +The little mauve mouse was particularly merry; sometimes she danced upon +two legs and sometimes upon four legs, but always very daintily and +always very merrily.</p> + +<p>"Ah, me!" sighed the old clock, "how different mice are nowadays from +the mice we used to have in the good old times! Now there was your +grandma, Mistress Velvetpaw, and there was your grandpa, Master +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>Sniffwhisker,—how grave and dignified they were! Many a night have I +seen them dancing upon the carpet below me, but always the stately +minuet and never that crazy frisking which you are executing now, to my +surprise—yes, and to my horror, too."</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't I be merry?" asked the little mauve mouse. "To-morrow +is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve."</p> + +<p>"So it is," said the old clock. "I had really forgotten all about it. +But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss Mauve Mouse?"</p> + +<p>"A great deal to me!" cried the little mauve mouse. "I have been very +good a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor have I gnawed +any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I worried my +mother by running behind the flour-barrel where that horrid trap is set. +In fact, I have been so good that I'm very sure Santa Claus will bring +me something very pretty."</p> + +<p>This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact, the old clock fell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck twelve +instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and therefore to be +reprehended.</p> + +<p>"Why, you silly little mauve mouse," said the old clock, "you don't +believe in Santa Claus, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," answered the little mauve mouse. "Believe in Santa +Claus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a beautiful +butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a +delicious rind of cheese, and—and—lots of things? I should be very +ungrateful if I did <i>not</i> believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly +shall not disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him +to arrive with a bundle of goodies for me.</p> + +<p>"I once had a little sister," continued the little mauve mouse, "who did +not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the fate that befell +her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers stand on end. She died +before I was born, but my mother has told me all about her. Perhaps you +never saw her; her name was Squeaknibble, and she was in stature one of +those long, low, rangey mice that are seldom found in well-stocked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>pantries. Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who +came from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people and +the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed. Squeaknibble +seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most conspicuous of which +was a disposition to sneer at some of the most respected dogmas in +mousedom. From her very infancy she doubted, for example, the widely +accepted theory that the moon was composed of green cheese; and this +heresy was the first intimation her parents had of the sceptical turn of +her mind. Of course, her parents were vastly annoyed, for their maturer +natures saw that this youthful scepticism portended serious, if not +fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the sagacious couple reason and +plead with their headstrong and heretical child.</p> + +<p>"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was any such +archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the contrary one +memorable night, on which occasion she lost two inches of her beautiful +tail, and received so terrible a fright that for fully an hour afterward +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>her little heart beat so violently as to lift her off her feet and bump +her head against the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my +sister of so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same +brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this room, +crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be asleep, hoping, +forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated presence, will venture +within reach of her diabolical claws. So enraged was this ferocious +monster at the escape of my sister that she ground her fangs viciously +together, and vowed to take no pleasure in life until she held in her +devouring jaws the innocent little mouse which belonged to the mangled +bit of tail she even then clutched in her remorseless claws."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old clock, "now that you recall the incident, I +recollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and I remember +that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her awkwardness. My +reproaches irritated her; she told me that a clock's duty was to run +itself down, <i>not</i> to be depreciating the merits of others! Yes, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>recall the time; that cat's tongue is fully as sharp as her claws."</p> + +<p>"Be that as it may," said the little mauve mouse, "it is a matter of +history, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that very moment the +cat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as if that one little +two-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had filled the cat with a +consuming passion, or appetite, for the rest of Squeaknibble. So the cat +waited and watched and hunted and schemed and devised and did everything +possible for a cat—a cruel cat—to do in order to gain her murderous +ends. One night—one fatal Christmas eve—our mother had undressed the +children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep earlier than +usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus would bring each of +them something very palatable and nice before morning. Thereupon the +little dears whisked their cunning tails, pricked up their beautiful +ears, and began telling one another what they hoped Santa Claus would +bring. One asked for a slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, +another for Sap Sago, and a fourth for Edam; one expressed a preference +for de Brie, while another hoped to get Parmesan; one clamored for +imperial blue Stilton, and another craved the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> fragrant boon of Caprera. +There were fourteen little ones then, and consequently there were +diverse opinions as to the kind of gift which Santa Claus should best +bring; still, there was, as you can readily understand, an enthusiastic +unanimity upon this point, namely, that the gift should be cheese of +some brand or other.</p> + +<p>"'My dears,' said our mother, 'what matters it whether the boon which +Santa Claus brings be royal English cheddar or fromage de Bricquebec, +Vermont sage, or Herkimer County skim-milk? We should be content with +whatsoever Santa Claus bestows, so long as it be cheese, disjoined from +all traps whatsoever, unmixed with Paris green, and free from glass, +strychnine, and other harmful ingredients. As for myself, I shall be +satisfied with a cut of nice, fresh Western reserve; for truly I +recognize in no other viand or edible half the fragrance or half the +gustfulness to be met with in one of these pale but aromatic domestic +products. So run away to your dreams now, that Santa Claus may find you +sleeping.'</p> + +<p>"The children obeyed,—all but Squeaknibble. 'Let the others think what +they please,'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> said she, 'but <i>I</i> don't believe in Santa Claus. I'm not +going to bed, either. I'm going to creep out of this dark hole and have +a quiet romp, all by myself, in the moonlight.' Oh, what a vain, +foolish, wicked little mouse was Squeaknibble! But I will not reproach +the dead; her punishment came all too swiftly. Now listen: who do you +suppose overheard her talking so disrespectfully of Santa Claus?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Santa Claus himself," said the old clock.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," answered the little mauve mouse. "It was that wicked, +murderous cat! Just as Satan lurks and lies in wait for bad children, so +does the cruel cat lurk and lie in wait for naughty little mice. And you +can depend upon it that, when that awful cat heard Squeaknibble speak so +disrespectfully of Santa Claus, her wicked eyes glowed with joy, her +sharp teeth watered, and her bristling fur emitted electric sparks as +big as marrowfat peas. Then what did that blood-thirsty monster do but +scuttle as fast as she could into Dear-my-Soul's room, leap up into +Dear-my-Soul's crib, and walk off with the pretty little white muff +which Dear-my-Soul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> used to wear when she went for a visit to the little +girl in the next block! What upon earth did the horrid old cat want with +Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white muff? Ah, the duplicity, the +diabolical ingenuity of that cat! Listen.</p> + +<p>"In the first place," resumed the little mauve mouse, after a pause that +testified eloquently to the depth of her emotion,—"in the first place, +that wretched cat dressed herself up in that pretty little white muff, +by which you are to understand that she crawled through the muff just so +far as to leave her four cruel legs at liberty."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand," said the old clock.</p> + +<p>"Then she put on the boy doll's fur cap," said the little mauve mouse, +"and when she was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and Dear-my-Soul's +pretty little white muff, of course she didn't look like a cruel cat at +all. But whom did she look like?"</p> + +<p>"Like the boy doll," suggested the old clock.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried the little mauve mouse.</p> + +<p>"Like Dear-my-Soul?" asked the old clock.</p> + +<p>"How stupid you are!" exclaimed the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> mauve mouse. "Why, she +looked like Santa Claus, of course!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I see," said the old clock. "Now I begin to be interested; go +on."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" sighed the little mauve mouse, "not much remains to be told; but +there is more of my story left than there was of Squeaknibble when that +horrid cat crawled out of that miserable disguise. You are to understand +that, contrary to her sagacious mother's injunction, and in notorious +derision of the mooted coming of Santa Claus, Squeaknibble issued from +the friendly hole in the chimney corner, and gambolled about over this +very carpet, and, I dare say, in this very moonlight."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the moonbeam, faintly. "I am so very old, and I +have seen so many things—I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Right merrily was Squeaknibble gambolling," continued the little mauve +mouse, "and she had just turned a double back somersault without the use +of what remained of her tail, when, all of a sudden, she beheld, looming +up like a monster ghost, a figure all in white fur! Oh, how frightened +she was, and how her little heart did beat! 'Purr, purr-r-r,' said the +ghost in white fur. 'Oh, please<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> don't hurt me!' pleaded +Squeaknibble. 'No; I'll not hurt you,' said the ghost in white fur; 'I'm +Santa Claus, and I've brought you a beautiful piece of savory old +cheese, you dear little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was deceived; a +sceptic all her life, she was at last befooled by the most palpable and +most fatal of frauds. 'How good of you!' said Squeaknibble. 'I didn't +believe there was a Santa Claus, and—' but before she could say +more she was seized by two sharp, cruel claws that conveyed her crushed +body to the murderous mouth of mousedom's most malignant foe. I can +dwell no longer upon this harrowing scene. Suffice it to say that ere +the morrow's sun rose like a big yellow Herkimer County cheese upon the +spot where that tragedy had been enacted, poor Squeaknibble passed to +that bourn whence two inches of her beautiful tail had preceded her by +the space of three weeks to a day. As for Santa Claus, when he came that +Christmas eve, bringing morceaux de <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>Brie and of Stilton for the +other little mice, he heard with sorrow of Squeaknibble's fate; and ere +he departed he said that in all his experience he had never known of a +mouse or of a child that had prospered after once saying that he didn't +believe in Santa Claus."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is a remarkable story," said the old clock. "But if you +believe in Santa Claus, why aren't you in bed?"</p> + +<p>"That's where I shall be presently," answered the little mauve mouse, +"but I must have my scamper, you know. It is very pleasant, I assure +you, to frolic in the light of the moon; only I cannot understand why +you are always so cold and so solemn and so still, you pale, pretty +little moonbeam."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do not know that I am so," said the moonbeam. "But I am very +old, and I have travelled many, many leagues, and I have seen wondrous +things. Sometimes I toss upon the ocean, sometimes I fall upon a +slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon a dead child's face. I see the +fairies at their play, and I hear mothers singing lullabies. Last night +I swept across the frozen bosom of a river. A woman's face looked up at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>me; it was the picture of eternal rest. 'She is sleeping,' said the +frozen river. 'I rock her to and fro, and sing to her. Pass gently by, O +moonbeam; pass gently by, lest you awaken her.'"</p> + +<p>"How strangely you talk," said the old clock. "Now, I'll warrant me +that, if you wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and wonderful +story. You must know many a Christmas tale; pray, tell us one to wear +away this night of Christmas watching."</p> + +<p>"I know but one," said the moonbeam. "I have told it over and over +again, in every land and in every home; yet I do not weary of it. It is +very simple. Should you like to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed we should," said the old clock; "but before you begin, let me +strike twelve; for I shouldn't want to interrupt you."</p> + +<p>When the old clock had performed this duty with somewhat more than usual +alacrity, the moonbeam began its story:—</p> + +<p>"Upon a time—so long ago that I can't tell how long ago it was—I fell +upon a hillside. It was in a far distant country; this I know, because, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>although it was the Christmas time, it was not in that country as it is +wont to be in countries to the north. Hither the snow-king never came; +flowers bloomed all the year, and at all times the lambs found pleasant +pasturage on the hillsides. The night wind was balmy, and there was a +fragrance of cedar in its breath. There were violets on the hillside, +and I fell amongst them and lay there. I kissed them, and they awakened. +'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' they said, and they nestled in the +grass which the lambs had left uncropped.</p> + +<p>"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hillside; above him spread an +olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed its rusty +branches majestically in the shifting air of night. The shepherd's name +was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he had fallen asleep; his crook +had slipped from his hand. Upon the hillside, too, slept the shepherd's +flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen across their +gentle faces and brought them pleasant dreams of green pastures and of +cool water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he lay slumbering +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King come upon +earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's name.</p> + +<p>"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have come in +good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things come to pass.'</p> + +<p>"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said the +violets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old olive-tree, +'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall walk upon the +hillside in the glory of the midnight hour.' So we waited and watched; +one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars peeped out; the +shepherd nodded and crooned and crooned and nodded, and at last he, too, +went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his keeping. Then we called +to the old olive-tree yonder, asking how soon the midnight hour would +come; but all the old olive-tree answered was 'Presently, presently,' +and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by our long watching, and +lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old olive-tree in the breezes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>of the night.</p> + +<p>"'But who is this Master?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the little +Master by the others. He comes here often, and plays among the flowers +of the hillside. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have +crushed and bruised us so that we lie bleeding and are like to die; but +the little Master heals our wounds and refreshes us once again.'</p> + +<p>"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at hand,' +said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of whom you +speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of the hillside, and sang songs +one to another.</p> + +<p>"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not far +hence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float away out into the +mists and clouds, if you will come with me.'</p> + +<p>"But I hid under the violets and amid the tall grass, that the night +wind might not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old olive-tree!' +cried the violets; 'do you see the little Master coming? Is not the +midnight hour at hand?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'I can see the town yonder,' said the old olive-tree. 'A star beams +bright over Bethlehem, the iron gates swing open, and the little Master +comes.'</p> + +<p>"Two children came to the hillside. The one, older than his comrade, was +Dimas, the son of Benoni. He was rugged and sinewy, and over his brown +shoulders was flung a goatskin; a leathern cap did not confine his long, +dark curly hair. The other child was he whom they called the little +Master; about his slender form clung raiment white as snow, and around +his face of heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So beautiful +a child I had not seen before, nor have I ever since seen such as he. +And as they came together to the hillside, there seemed to glow about +the little Master's head a soft white light, as if the moon had sent its +tenderest, fairest beams to kiss those golden curls.</p> + +<p>"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding fearful.</p> + +<p>"'Have no fear, Dimas,' said the little Master. 'Give me thy hand, and I +will lead thee.'</p> + +<p>"Presently they came to the rock whereon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> Benoni, the shepherd, lay; and +they stood under the old olive-tree, and the old olive-tree swayed no +longer in the night wind, but bent its branches reverently in the +presence of the little Master. It seemed as if the wind, too, stayed in +its shifting course just then; for suddenly there was a solemn hush, and +you could hear no noise, except that in his dreams Benoni spoke the +Messiah's name.</p> + +<p>"'Thy father sleeps,' said the little Master, 'and it is well that it is +so; for that I love thee, Dimas, and that thou shalt walk with me in my +Father's kingdom, I would show thee the glories of my birthright.'</p> + +<p>"Then all at once sweet music filled the air, and light, greater than +the light of day, illumined the sky and fell upon all that hillside. The +heavens opened, and angels, singing joyous songs, walked to the earth. +More wondrous still, the stars, falling from their places in the sky, +clustered upon the old olive-tree, and swung hither and thither like +colored lanterns. The flowers of the hillside all awakened, and they, +too, danced and sang. The angels, coming hither, hung gold and silver +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> jewels and precious stones upon the old olive, where swung the +stars; so that the glory of that sight, though I might live forever, I +shall never see again. When Dimas heard and saw these things he fell +upon his knees, and catching the hem of the little Master's garment, he +kissed it.</p> + +<p>"'Greater joy than this shall be thine, Dimas,' said the little Master; +'but first must all things be fulfilled.'</p> + +<p>"All through that Christmas night did the angels come and go with their +sweet anthems; all through that Christmas night did the stars dance and +sing; and when it came my time to steal away, the hillside was still +beautiful with the glory and the music of heaven."</p> + +<p>"Well, is that all?" asked the old clock.</p> + +<p>"No," said the moonbeam; "but I am nearly done. The years went on. +Sometimes I tossed upon the ocean's bosom, sometimes I scampered o'er a +battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead child's face. I heard the +voices of Darkness and mothers' lullabies and sick men's prayers,—and +so the years went on.</p> + +<p>"I fell one night upon a hard and furrowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> face. It was of ghostly +pallor. A thief was dying on the cross, and this was his wretched face. +About the cross stood men with staves and swords and spears, but none +paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond this cross another was lifted +up, and upon it was stretched a human body my light fell not upon. But I +heard a voice that somewhere I had heard before,—though where I did not +know,—and this voice blessed those that railed and jeered and +shamefully entreated. And suddenly the voice called 'Dimas, Dimas!' and +the thief upon whose hardened face I rested made answer.</p> + +<p>"Then I saw that it was Dimas; yet to this wicked criminal there +remained but little of the shepherd child whom I had seen in all his +innocence upon the hillside. Long years of sinful life had seared their +marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that familiar voice, +somewhat of the old-time boyish look came back, and in the yearning of +the anguished eyes I seemed to see the shepherd's son again.</p> + +<p>"'The Master!' cried Dimas, and he stretched forth his neck that he +might see him that spake.</p> + +<p>"'O Dimas, how art thou changed!' cried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> the Master, yet there was in +his voice no tone of rebuke save that which cometh of love.</p> + +<p>"Then Dimas wept, and in that hour he forgot his pain. And the Master's +consoling voice and the Master's presence there wrought in the dying +criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his head fell upon his +bosom, and the men about the cross said that he was dead, it seemed as +if I shined not upon a felon's face, but upon the face of the gentle +shepherd lad, the son of Benoni.</p> + +<p>"And shining on that dead and peaceful face, I bethought me of the +little Master's words that he had spoken under the old olive-tree upon +the hillside: 'Your eyes behold the promised glory now, O Dimas,' I +whispered, 'for with the Master you walk in Paradise.'"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know—you know whereof the moonbeam spake. +The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, the old +olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hillside are withered, and none +knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again, there +shined a star over Bethlehem, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> angels descended from the sky to +earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the bells,—hear them, +little Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are ringing,—the bells bear us +the good tidings of great joy this Christmas morning, that our Christ is +born, and that with him he bringeth peace on earth and good-will toward +men.</p> + + +<p>1888.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/082.png" width="350" height="200" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASS.</h2> + + +<p>It befell that on a time ye Divell did walk to and fro upon ye earth, +having in his mind full evill cogitations how that he might do despight; +for of soche nature is ye Divell, and ever hath been, that continually +doth he go about among men, being so dispositioned that it sufficeth him +not that men sholde of their own forwardness, and by cause of the guile +born in them, turn unto his wickedness, but rather that he sholde by his +crewel artifices and diabolical machinations tempt them at all times and +upon every hand to do his fiendly plaisaunce.</p> + +<p>But it so fortuned that this time wherein ye Divell so walked upon ye +earth was ye Chrystmass time; and wit ye well that how evill soever ye +harte of man ben at other seasons, it is tofilled at ye Chrystmass time +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>with charity and love, like as if it ben sanctified by ye exceeding +holiness of that feast. Leastwise, this moche we know, that, whereas at +other times envy and worldliness do prevail, for a verity our natures +are toched at ye Chrystmass time as by ye hand of divinity, and +conditioned for merciful deeds unto our fellow kind. Right wroth was ye +Divell, therefore, when that he knew this ben ye Chrystmass time. And as +rage doth often confirm in ye human harte an evill purpose, so was ye +Divell now more diabolically minded to work his unclean will, and full +hejeously fell he to roar and lash his ribald legs with his poyson +taile. But ye Divell did presently conceive that naught might he +accomplish by this means, since that men, affrighted by his roaring and +astonied by ye fumes of brimstone and ye sulphur flames issuing from his +mouth, wolde flee therefrom; whereas by subtile craft and by words of +specious guile it more frequently befalls that ye Divell seduceth men +and lureth them into his toils. So then ye Divell did in a little season +feign to be in a full plaisaunt mind and of sweet purpose; and when that +he had girt him about with an hermit's cloak, so that none might see his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>cloven feet and his poyson taile, right briskly did he fare him on his +journey, and he did sing ye while a plaisaunt tune, like he had ben full +of joyous contentation.</p> + +<p>Now it befell that presently in his journey he did meet with a frere, +Dan Dennyss, an holy man that fared him to a neighboring town for deeds +of charity and godliness. Unto him spake ye Divell full courteysely, and +required of him that he might bear him company; to which ye frere gave +answer in seemly wise, that, if so be that he ben of friendly +disposition, he wolde make him joy of his companionship and +conversation. Then, whiles that they journeyed together, began ye Divell +to discourse of theologies and hidden mysteries, and of conjurations, +and of negromancy and of magick, and of Chaldee, and of astrology, and +of chymistry, and of other occult and forbidden sciences, wherein ye +Divell and all that ply his damnable arts are mightily learned and +practised. Now wit ye well that this frere, being an holy man and a +simple, and having an eye single to ye blessed works of his calling, was +presently mightily troubled in his mind by ye artifices of ye Divell, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>and his harte began to waver and to be filled with miserable doubtings; +for knowing nothing of ye things whereof ye Divell spake, he colde not +make answer thereto, nor, being of godly cogitation and practice, had he +ye confutations wherewith to meet ye abhominable argumentations of ye +fiend.</p> + +<p>Yet (and now shall I tell you of a special Providence) it did fortune, +whiles yet ye Divell discoursed in this profane wise, there was +vouchsafed unto ye frere a certain power to resist ye evill that +environed him; for of a sodaine he did cast his doubtings and his +misgivings to ye winds, and did fall upon ye Divell and did buffet him +full sore, crying, "Thou art ye Divell! Get thee gone!" And ye frere +plucked ye cloake from ye Divell and saw ye cloven feet and ye poyson +taile, and straightway ye Divell ran roaring away. But ye frere fared +upon his journey, for that he had had a successful issue from this +grevious temptation, with thanksgiving and prayse.</p> + +<p>Next came ye Divell into a town wherein were many people going to and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>fro upon works of charity, and doing righteous practices; and sorely +did it repent ye Divell when that he saw ye people bent upon ye giving +of alms and ye doing of charitable deeds. Therefore with mighty +diligence did ye Divell apply himself to poyson ye minds of ye people, +shewing unto them in artful wise how that by idleness or by righteous +dispensation had ye poore become poore, and that, soche being ye will of +God, it was an evill and rebellious thing against God to seeke to +minister consolation unto these poore peoples. Soche like specious +argumentations did ye Divell use to gain his diabolical ends; but by +means of a grace whereof none then knew ye source, these men and these +women unto whom ye Divell spake his hejeous heresies presently +discovered force to withstand these fiendly temptations, and to continue +in their Chrystianly practices, to ye glory of their faith and to ye +benefite of ye needy, but to ye exceeding discomfiture of ye Divell; for +ye which discomfiture I do give hearty thanks, and so also shall all of +you, if so be that your hartes within you be of rightful disposition.</p> + +<p>All that day long fared ye Divell to and fro among ye people of ye town, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>but none colde he bring into his hellish way of cogitation. Nor do I +count this to be a marvellous thing; for, as I myself have herein shewn +and as eche of us doth truly know, how can there be a place for ye +Divell upon earth during this Chrystmass time when in ye very air that +we breathe abideth a certain love and concord sent of heaven for the +controul and edification of mankind, filling human hartes with peace and +inclining human hands to ye delectable and blessed employments of +charity? Nay, but you shall know that all this very season whereof I +speak ye holy Chrystchilde himself did follow ye Divell upon earth, +forefending the crewel evills which ye Divell fain wolde do and girding +with confidence and love ye else frail natures of men. Soothly it is +known of common report among you that when ye Chrystmass season comes +upon ye earth there cometh with it also the spirit of our Chryst +himself, that in ye similitude of a little childe descendeth from heaven +and walketh among men. And if so be that by any chance ye Divell is +minded to issue from his foul pit at soche a time, wit ye well that +wheresoever ye fiend fareth to do his diaboli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>cal plaisaunce there also +close at hand followeth ye gentle Chrystchilde; so that ye Divell, try +how hard soever he may, hath no power at soche a time over the hartes of +men.</p> + +<p>Nay, but you shall know furthermore that of soche sweete quality and of +so great efficacy is this heavenly spirit of charity at ye Chrystmass +season, that oftentimes is ye Divell himself made to do a kindly deed. +So at this time of ye which I you tell, ye Divell, walking upon ye earth +with evill purpose, become finally overcome by ye gracious desire to +give an alms; but nony alms had ye Divell to give, sith it is wisely +ordained that ye Divell's offices shall be confined to his domain. Right +grievously tormented therefore was ye Divell, in that he had nought of +alms to bestow; but when presently he did meet with a beggar childe that +besought him charity, ye Divell whipped out a knife and cut off his own +taile, which taile ye Divell gave to ye beggar childe, for he had not +else to give for a lyttle trinket toy to make merry with. Now wit ye +well that this poyson instrument brought no evill to ye beggar childe, +for by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> sodaine miracle it ben changed into a flowre of gold, ye which +gave great joy unto ye beggar childe and unto all them that saw this +miracle how that it had ben wrought, but not by ye Divell. Then returned +ye Divell unto his pit of fire; and since that day, whereupon befell +this thing of which I speak, ye Divell hath had nony taile at all, as +you that hath scene ye same shall truly testify.</p> + +<p>But all that day long walked ye Chrystchilde upon ye earth, unseen to ye +people but toching their hartes with his swete love and turning their +hands to charity; and all felt that ye Chrystchilde was with them. So it +was plaisaunt to do ye Chrystchilde's will, to succor ye needy, to +comfort ye afflicted, and to lift up ye oppressed. Most plaisauntest of +all was it to make merry with ye lyttle children, sithence of soche is +ye kingdom whence ye Chrystchilde cometh.</p> + +<p>Behold, ye season is again at hand; once more ye snows of winter lie +upon all ye earth, and all Chrystantie is arrayed to the holy feast.</p> + +<p>Presently shall ye star burn with exceeding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> brightness in ye east, ye +sky shall be full of swete music, ye angels shall descend to earth with +singing, and ye bells—ye joyous Chrystmass bells—shall tell us of ye +babe that was born in Bethlehem.</p> + +<p>Come to us now, O gentle Chrystchilde, and walke among us peoples of ye +earth; enwheel us round about with thy protecting care; forefend all +envious thoughts and evil deeds; toche thou our hearts with the glory of +thy love, and quicken us to practices of peace, good-will, and charity +meet for thy approval and acceptation.</p> + + +<p>1888.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/094.png" width="350" height="165" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time the air, the mountain, +and the sea lived undisturbed upon all +the earth. The mountain alone was immovable; +he stood always here upon his rocky +foundation, and the sea rippled and foamed +at his feet, while the air danced freely over +his head and about his grim face. It came to +pass that both the sea and the air loved the +mountain, but the mountain loved the sea.</p> + +<p>"Dance on forever, O air," said the mountain; +"dance on and sing your merry songs. +But I love the gentle sea, who in sweet humility +crouches at my feet or playfully dashes her +white spray against my brown bosom."</p> + +<p>Now the sea was full of joy when she heard +these words, and her thousand voices sang softly +with delight. But the air was filled with rage +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>and jealousy, and she swore a terrible revenge.</p> + +<p>"The mountain shall not wed the sea," muttered +the envious air. "Enjoy your triumph +while you may, O slumberous sister; I will steal +you from your haughty lover!"</p> + +<p>And it came to pass that ever after that the +air each day caught up huge parts of the sea +and sent them floating forever through the air +in the shape of clouds. So each day the sea +receded from the feet of the mountain, and her +tuneful waves played no more around his majestic +base.</p> + +<p>"Whither art thou going, my love?" cried +the mountain, in dismay.</p> + +<p>"She is false to thee," laughed the air, +mockingly. "She is going to another love far +away."</p> + +<p>But the mountain would not believe it. He +towered his head aloft and cried more beseechingly +than before: "Oh, whither art thou going, +my beloved? I do not hear thy sweet +voice, nor do thy soft white arms compass me +about."</p> + +<p>Then the sea cried out in an agony of helpless +love. But the mountain heard her not, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>the air refused to bring the words she said.</p> + +<p>"She is false!" whispered the air. "I alone +am true to thee."</p> + +<p>But the mountain believed her not. Day +after day he reared his massive head aloft and +turned his honest face to the receding sea and +begged her to return; day after day the sea +threw up her snowy arms and uttered the wildest +lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; +and day by day the sea receded farther and +farther from the mountain's base. Where she +once had spread her fair surface appeared fertile +plains and verdant groves all peopled with +living things, whose voices the air brought to +the mountain's ears in the hope that they might +distract the mountain from his mourning.</p> + +<p>But the mountain would not be comforted; +he lifted his sturdy head aloft, and his sorrowing +face was turned ever toward the fleeting object +of his love. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and +other mountains separated them now, but over +and beyond them all he could see her fair face +lifted pleadingly toward him, while her white +arms tossed wildly to and fro. But he did not +know what words she said, for the envious air +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>would not bear her messages to him.</p> + +<p>Then many ages came and went, until now +the sea was far distant, so very distant that +the mountain could not behold her,—nay, had +he been ten thousand times as lofty he could not +have seen her, she was so far away. But still, +as of old, the mountain stood with his majestic +head high in the sky, and his face turned +whither he had seen her fading like a dream +away.</p> + +<p>"Come back, come back, O my beloved!" +he cried and cried.</p> + +<p>And the sea, a thousand miles or more +away, still thought forever of the mountain. +Vainly she peered over the western horizon +for a glimpse of his proud head and honest +face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was +far beyond; forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, +and other mountains intervened. Her watching +was as hopeless as her love.</p> + +<p>"She is false!" whispered the air to the +mountain. "She is false, and she has gone +to another lover. I alone am true!"</p> + +<p>But the mountain believed her not. And +one day clouds came floating through the sky +and hovered around the mountain's crest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who art thou," cried the mountain,—"who +art thou that thou fill'st me with such +a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my +beloved's, and thy kisses are like her kisses."</p> + +<p>"We come from the sea," answered the +clouds. "She loves thee, and she has sent +us to bid thee be courageous, for she will +come back to thee."</p> + +<p>Then the clouds covered the mountain and +bathed him with the glory of the sea's true +love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. +Ever after that the clouds came each day with +love-messages from the sea, and oftentimes the +clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender +words the mountain spoke.</p> + +<p>And so the ages come and go, the mountain +rearing his giant head aloft, and his brown, honest +face turned whither the sea departed; the sea +stretching forth her arms to the distant mountain +and repeating his dear name with her thousand +voices.</p> + +<p>Stand on the beach and look upon the sea's +majestic calm and hear her murmurings; or see +her when, in the frenzy of her hopeless love, +she surges wildly and tosses her white arms and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +shrieks,—then you shall know how the sea +loves the distant mountain.</p> + +<p>The mountain is old and sear; the storms +have beaten upon his breast, and great scars and +seams and wrinkles are on his sturdy head and +honest face. But he towers majestically aloft, +and he looks always toward the distant sea and +waits for her promised coming.</p> + +<p>And so the ages come and go, but love is +eternal.</p> + + +<p>1886.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/102.png" width="350" height="179" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time a robin lived in the greenwood. Of all the birds his +breast was the brightest, his music was the sweetest, and his life was +the merriest. Every morning and evening he perched himself among the +berries of the linden-tree, and carolled a song that made the whole +forest joyous; and all day long he fluttered among the flowers and +shrubbery of the wild-wood, and twittered gayly to the brooks, the +ferns, and the lichens.</p> + +<p>A violet grew among the mosses at the foot of the linden-tree where +lived the robin. She was so very tiny and so very modest that few knew +there was such a pretty little creature in the world. Withal she was so +beautiful and so gentle that those who knew the violet loved her very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>dearly.</p> + +<p>The south wind came wooing the violet. He danced through the shrubbery +and ferns, and lingered on the velvet moss where the little flower grew. +But when he kissed her pretty face and whispered to her, she hung her +head and said, "No, no; it cannot be."</p> + +<p>"Nay, little violet, do not be so cruel," pleaded the south wind; "let +me bear you as my bride away to my splendid home in the south, where all +is warmth and sunshine always."</p> + +<p>But the violet kept repeating, "No, it cannot be; no, it cannot be," +till at last the south wind stole away with a very heavy heart.</p> + +<p>And the rose exclaimed, in an outburst of disgustful indignation: "What +a foolish violet! How silly of her to refuse such a wooer as the south +wind, who has a beautiful home and a patrimony of eternal warmth and +sunshine!"</p> + +<p>But the violet, as soon as the south wind had gone, looked up at the +robin perched in the linden-tree and singing his clear song; and it +seemed as if she blushed and as if she were thrilled with a great +emotion as she beheld him. But the robin did not see the violet. His +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>eyes were turned the other way, and he sang to the clouds in the sky.</p> + +<p>The brook o'erleapt its banks one day, and straying toward the +linden-tree, it was amazed at the loveliness of the violet. Never had it +seen any flower half so beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come and be my bride," cried the brook. "I am young and small now, +but presently you shall see me grow to a mighty river whose course no +human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast thyself +upon my bosom, sweet violet, and let us float together to that great +destiny which awaits me."</p> + +<p>But the violet shuddered and recoiled and said: "Nay, nay, impetuous +brook, I will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs and complaints, +the brook crept back to its jealous banks and resumed its devious and +prattling way to the sea.</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" cried the daisy, "only to think of that silly violet's +refusing the brook! Was there ever another such piece of folly! Where +else is there a flower that would not have been glad to go upon such a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>wonderful career? Oh, how short-sighted some folks are!"</p> + +<p>But the violet paid no heed to these words; she looked steadfastly up +into the foliage of the linden-tree where the robin was carolling. The +robin did not see the violet; he was singing to the tops of the +fir-trees over yonder.</p> + +<p>The days came and went. The robin sang and fluttered in the greenwood, +and the violet bided among the mosses at the foot of the linden; and +although the violet's face was turned always upward to where the robin +perched and sang, the robin never saw the tender little flower.</p> + +<p>One day a huntsman came through the greenwood, and an arrow from his +cruel bow struck the robin and pierced his heart. The robin was +carolling in the linden, but his song was ended suddenly, and the +innocent bird fell dying from the tree. "Oh, it is only a robin," said +the huntsman, and with a careless laugh he went on his way.</p> + +<p>The robin lay upon the mosses at the foot of the linden, close beside +the violet. But he neither saw nor heard anything, for his life was +nearly gone. The violet tried to bind his wound and stay the flow of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>heart's blood, but her tender services were vain. The robin died +without having seen her sweet face or heard her gentle voice.</p> + +<p>Then the other birds of the greenwood came to mourn over their dead +friend. The moles and the mice dug a little grave and laid the robin in +it, after which the birds brought lichens and leaves, and covered the +dead body, and heaped earth over all, and made a great lamentation. But +when they went away, the violet remained; and after the sun had set, and +the greenwood all was dark, the violet bent over the robin's grave and +kissed it, and sang to the dead robin. And the violet watched by the +robin's grave for weeks and months, her face pressed forward toward that +tiny mound, and her gentle voice always singing softly and sweetly about +the love she never had dared to tell.</p> + +<p>Often after that the south wind and the brook came wooing her, but she +never heard them, or, if she heard them, she did not answer. The vine +that lived near the chestnut yonder said the violet was greatly changed; +that from being a merry, happy thing, she had grown sad and reticent; +she used to hold up her head as proudly as the others, but now she +seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> broken and weary. The shrubs and flowers talked it all over many +and many a time, but none of them could explain the violet's strange +conduct.</p> + +<p>It was autumn now, and the greenwood was not what it had been. The birds +had flown elsewhere to be the guests of the storks during the winter +months, the rose had run away to be the bride of the south wind, and the +daisy had wedded the brook and was taking a bridal tour to the seaside +watering-places. But the violet still lingered in the greenwood, and +kept her vigil at the grave of the robin. She was pale and drooping, but +still she watched and sang over the spot where her love lay buried. Each +day she grew weaker and paler. The oak begged her to come and live among +the warm lichens that protected him from the icy breath of the +storm-king, but the violet chose to watch and sing over the robin's +grave.</p> + +<p>One morning, after a night of exceeding darkness and frost, the +boisterous north wind came trampling through the greenwood.</p> + +<p>"I have come for the violet," he cried; "she would not have my fair +brother, but she must go with <i>me</i>, whether it pleases her or not!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>But when he came to the foot of the linden-tree his anger was changed to +compassion. The violet was dead, and she lay upon the robin's grave. Her +gentle face rested close to the little mound, as if, in her last moment, +the faithful flower had stretched forth her lips to kiss the dust that +covered her beloved.</p> + + +<p>1884.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/112.png" width="350" height="175" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY.</h2> + + +<p>In the greenwood stood a mighty oak. So +majestic was he that all who came that way +paused to admire his strength and beauty, and +all the other trees of the greenwood acknowledged +him to be their monarch.</p> + +<p>Now it came to pass that the ivy loved the +oak-tree, and inclining her graceful tendrils +where he stood, she crept about his feet and +twined herself around his sturdy and knotted +trunk. And the oak-tree pitied the ivy.</p> + +<p>"Oho!" he cried, laughing boisterously, but +good-naturedly,—"oho! so you love me, do +you, little vine? Very well, then; play about +my feet, and I will keep the storms from you and +will tell you pretty stories about the clouds, the +birds, and the stars."</p> + +<p>The ivy marvelled greatly at the strange stories +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>the oak-tree told; they were stories the +oak-tree heard from the wind that loitered +about his lofty head and whispered to the leaves +of his topmost branches. Sometimes the story +was about the great ocean in the East, sometimes +of the broad prairies in the West, sometimes +of the ice-king who lived in the North, and +sometimes of the flower-queen who dwelt in the +South. Then, too, the moon told a story to the +oak-tree every night,—or at least every night +that she came to the greenwood, which was very +often, for the greenwood is a very charming +spot, as we all know. And the oak-tree repeated +to the ivy every story the moon told and every +song the stars sang.</p> + +<p>"Pray, what are the winds saying now?" or +"What song is that I hear?" the ivy would ask; +and then the oak-tree would repeat the story +or the song, and the ivy would listen in great +wonderment.</p> + +<p>Whenever the storms came, the oak-tree cried +to the little ivy: "Cling close to me, and no +harm shall befall you! See how strong I am; +the tempest does not so much as stir me—I +mock its fury!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p><p>Then, seeing how strong and brave he was, +the ivy hugged him closely; his brown, rugged +breast protected her from every harm, and she +was secure.</p> + +<p>The years went by; how quickly they flew,—spring, +summer, winter, and then again spring, +summer, winter,—ah, life is short in the greenwood +as elsewhere! And now the ivy was no +longer a weakly little vine to excite the pity of +the passer-by. Her thousand beautiful arms had +twined hither and thither about the oak-tree, +covering his brown and knotted trunk, shooting +forth a bright, delicious foliage and stretching far +up among his lower branches. Then the oak-tree's +pity grew into a love for the ivy, and the +ivy was filled with a great joy. And the oak-tree +and the ivy were wed one June night, and +there was a wonderful celebration in the greenwood; +and there was the most beautiful music, +in which the pine-trees, the crickets, the katydids, +the frogs, and the nightingales joined with +pleasing harmony.</p> + +<p>The oak-tree was always good and gentle to +the ivy. "There is a storm coming over the +hills," he would say. "The east wind tells me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky +is dark. Cling close to me, my beloved, and +no harm shall befall you."</p> + +<p>Then, confidently and with an always-growing +love, the ivy would cling more closely to the +oak-tree, and no harm came to her.</p> + +<p>"How good the oak-tree is to the ivy!" said +the other trees of the greenwood. The ivy +heard them, and she loved the oak-tree more +and more. And, although the ivy was now the +most umbrageous and luxuriant vine in all the +greenwood, the oak-tree regarded her still as +the tender little thing he had laughingly called +to his feet that spring day, many years before,—the +same little ivy he had told about the stars, +the clouds, and the birds. And, just as patiently +as in those days he had told her of these things, +he now repeated other tales the winds whispered +to his topmost boughs,—tales of the +ocean in the East, the prairies in the West, the +ice-king in the North, and the flower-queen in +the South. Nestling upon his brave breast and +in his stout arms, the ivy heard him tell these +wondrous things, and she never wearied with the +listening.</p> + +<p>"How the oak-tree loves her!" said the ash.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +"The lazy vine has naught to do but to twine +herself about the arrogant oak-tree and hear +him tell his wondrous stories!"</p> + +<p>The ivy heard these envious words, and they +made her very sad; but she said nothing of +them to the oak-tree, and that night the oak-tree +rocked her to sleep as he repeated the lullaby +a zephyr was singing to him.</p> + +<p>"There is a storm coming over the hills," +said the oak-tree one day. "The east wind +tells me so; the swallows fly low in the air, +and the sky is dark. Clasp me round about +with thy dear arms, my beloved, and nestle +close unto my bosom, and no harm shall befall +thee."</p> + +<p>"I have no fear," murmured the ivy; and +she clasped her arms most closely about him +and nestled unto his bosom.</p> + +<p>The storm came over the hills and swept +down upon the greenwood with deafening thunder +and vivid lightning. The storm-king himself +rode upon the blast; his horses breathed +flames, and his chariot trailed through the air +like a serpent of fire. The ash fell before the +violence of the storm-king's fury, and the ce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>dars +groaning fell, and the hemlocks and the +pines; but the oak-tree alone quailed not.</p> + +<p>"Oho!" cried the storm-king, angrily, "the +oak-tree does not bow to me, he does not +tremble in my presence. Well, we shall +see."</p> + +<p>With that, the storm-king hurled a mighty +thunderbolt at the oak-tree, and the brave, +strong monarch of the greenwood was riven. +Then, with a shout of triumph, the storm-king +rode away.</p> + +<p>"Dear oak-tree, you are riven by the storm-king's +thunderbolt!" cried the ivy, in anguish.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said the oak-tree, feebly, "my end has +come; see, I am shattered and helpless."</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> am unhurt," remonstrated the ivy, +"and I will bind up your wounds and nurse you +back to health and vigor."</p> + +<p>And so it was that, although the oak-tree was +ever afterward a riven and broken thing, the ivy +concealed the scars upon his shattered form +and covered his wounds all over with her soft +foliage.</p> + +<p>"I had hoped, dear one," she said, "to grow +up to thy height, to live with thee among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +clouds, and to hear the solemn voices thou didst +hear. Thou wouldst have loved me better +then?"</p> + +<p>But the old oak-tree said: "Nay, nay, my +beloved; I love thee better as thou art, for with +thy beauty and thy love thou comfortest mine +age."</p> + +<p>Then would the ivy tell quaint stories to the +old and broken oak-tree,—stories she had +learned from the crickets, the bees, the butterflies, +and the mice when she was an humble little +vine and played at the foot of the majestic oak-tree, +towering in the greenwood with no thought +of the tiny shoot that crept toward him with +her love. And these simple tales pleased the +old and riven oak-tree; they were not as heroic +as the tales the winds, the clouds, and the stars +told, but they were far sweeter, for they were +tales of contentment, of humility, of love.</p> + +<p>So the old age of the oak-tree was grander +than his youth.</p> + +<p>And all who went through the greenwood +paused to behold and admire the beauty of the +oak-tree then; for about his seared and broken +trunk the gentle vine had so entwined her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +graceful tendrils and spread her fair foliage, +that one saw not the havoc of the years nor the +ruin of the tempest, but only the glory of the +oak-tree's age, which was the ivy's love and +ministering.</p> + +<p>1886.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;"> +<img src="images/122.png" width="249" height="175" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<h2>MARGARET: A PEARL.</h2> + + +<p>In a certain part of the sea, very many leagues from here, there once +lived a large family of oysters noted for their beauty and size. But +among them was one so small, so feeble, and so ill-looking as to excite +the pity, if not the contempt, of all the others. The father, a +venerable, bearded oyster, of august appearance and solemn deportment, +was much mortified that one of his family should happen to be so sickly; +and he sent for all the doctors in the sea to come and treat her; from +which circumstance you are to note that doctors are an evil to be met +with not alone upon <i>terra firma</i>. The first to come was Dr. Porpoise, a +gentleman of the old school, who floundered around in a very important +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>manner and was full of imposing ceremonies.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at your tongue," said Dr. Porpoise, stroking his beard with +one fin, impressively. "Ahem! somewhat coated, I see. And your pulse is +far from normal; no appetite, I presume? Yes, my dear, your system is +sadly out of order. You need medicine."</p> + +<p>The little oyster hated medicine; so she cried,—yes, she actually shed +cold, briny tears at the very thought of taking old Dr. Porpoise's +prescriptions. But the father-oyster and the mother-oyster chided her +sternly; they said that the medicine would be nice and sweet, and that +the little oyster would like it. But the little oyster knew better than +all that; yes, she knew a thing or two, even though she <i>was</i> only a +little oyster.</p> + +<p>Now Dr. Porpoise put a plaster on the little oyster's chest and a +blister at her feet. He bade her eat nothing but a tiny bit of sea-foam +on toast twice a day. Every two hours she was to take a spoonful of +cod-liver oil, and before each meal a wineglassful of the essence of +distilled cuttlefish. The plaster she didn't mind, but the blister and +the cod-liver oil were terrible; and when it came to the essence of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>distilled cuttlefish—well, she just couldn't stand it! In vain her +mother reasoned with her, and promised her a new doll and a +skipping-rope and a lot of other nice things: the little oyster would +have none of the horrid drug; until at last her father, abandoning his +dignity in order to maintain his authority, had to hold her down by main +strength and pour the medicine into her mouth. This was, as you will +allow, quite dreadful.</p> + +<p>But this treatment did the little oyster no good; and her parents made +up their minds that they would send for another doctor, and one of a +different school. Fortunately they were in a position to indulge in +almost any expense, since the father-oyster himself was president of one +of the largest banks of Newfoundland. So Dr. Sculpin came with his neat +little medicine-box under his arm. And when he had looked at the sick +little oyster's tongue, and had taken her temperature, and had felt her +pulse, he said he knew what ailed her; but he did not tell anybody what +it was. He threw away the plasters, the blisters, the cod-liver oil, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>the essence of distilled cuttlefish, and said it was a wonder that the +poor child had lived through it all!</p> + +<p>"Will you please bring me two tumblerfuls of water?" he remarked to the +mother-oyster.</p> + +<p>The mother-oyster scuttled away, and soon returned with two conch-shells +filled to the brim with pure, clear sea-water. Dr. Sculpin counted three +grains of white sand into one shell, and three grains of yellow sand +into the other shell, with great care.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he to the mother-oyster, "I have numbered these 1 and 2. +First, you are to give the patient ten drops out of No. 2, and in an +hour after that, eight drops out of No. 1; the next hour, eight drops +out of No. 2; and the next, or fourth, hour, ten drops out of No. 1. And +so you are to continue hour by hour, until either the medicine or the +child gives out."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, doctor," asked the mother, "shall she continue the food +suggested by Dr. Porpoise?"</p> + +<p>"What food did he recommend?" inquired Dr. Sculpin.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>"Sea-foam on toast," answered the mother.</p> + +<p>Dr. Sculpin smiled a smile which seemed to suggest that Dr. Porpoise's +ignorance was really quite annoying.</p> + +<p>"My dear madam," said Dr. Sculpin, "the diet suggested by that quack, +Porpoise, passed out of the books years ago. Give the child toast on +sea-foam, if you wish to build up her debilitated forces."</p> + +<p>Now, the sick little oyster did not object to this treatment; on the +contrary, she liked it. But it did her no good. And one day, when she +was feeling very dry, she drank both tumblerfuls of medicine, and it did +not do her any harm; neither did it cure her: she remained the same sick +little oyster,—oh, so sick! This pained her parents very much. They did +not know what to do. They took her travelling; they gave her into the +care of the eel for electric treatment; they sent her to the Gulf Stream +for warm baths,—they tried everything, but to no avail. The sick little +oyster remained a sick little oyster, and there was an end of it.</p> + +<p>At last one day,—one cruel, fatal day,—a horrid, fierce-looking +machine was poked down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> from the surface of the water far above, and +with slow but intrepid movement began exploring every nook and crevice +of the oyster village. There was not a family into which it did not +intrude, nor a home circle whose sanctity it did not ruthlessly invade. +It scraped along the great mossy rock; and lo! with a monstrous +scratchy-te-scratch, the mother-oyster and the father-oyster and +hundreds of other oysters were torn from their resting-places and borne +aloft in a very jumbled and very frightened condition by the impertinent +machine. Then down it came again, and the sick little oyster was among +the number of those who were seized by the horrid monster this time. She +found herself raised to the top of the sea; and all at once she was +bumped in a boat, where she lay, puny and helpless, on a huge pile of +other oysters. Two men were handling the fierce-looking machine. A +little boy sat in the stern of the boat watching the huge pile of +oysters. He was a pretty little boy, with bright eyes and long tangled +hair. He wore no hat, and his feet were bare and brown.</p> + +<p>"What a funny little oyster!" said the boy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> picking up the sick little +oyster; "it is no bigger than my thumb, and it is very pale."</p> + +<p>"Throw it away," said one of the men. "Like as not it is bad and not fit +to eat."</p> + +<p>"No, keep it and send it out West for a Blue Point," said the other +man,—what a heartless wretch he was!</p> + +<p>But the little boy had already thrown the sick little oyster overboard. +She fell in shallow water, and the rising tide carried her still farther +toward shore, until she lodged against an old gum boot that lay half +buried in the sand. There were no other oysters in sight. Her head ached +and she was very weak; how lonesome, too, she was!—yet anything was +better than being eaten,—at least so thought the little oyster, and so, +I presume, think you.</p> + +<p>For many weeks and many months the sick little oyster lay hard by the +old gum boot; and in that time she made many acquaintances and friends +among the crabs, the lobsters, the fiddlers, the star-fish, the waves, +the shells, and the gay little fishes of the ocean. They did not harm +her, for they saw that she was sick; they pitied her—some loved her. +The one that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> loved her most was the perch with green fins that attended +school every day in the academic shade of the big rocks in the quiet +cove about a mile away. He was very gentle and attentive, and every +afternoon he brought fresh cool sea-foam for the sick oyster to eat; he +told her pretty stories, too,—stories which his grandmother, the +venerable codfish, had told him of the sea king, the mermaids, the +pixies, the water sprites, and the other fantastically beautiful +dwellers in ocean-depths. Now while all this was very pleasant, the sick +little oyster knew that the perch's wooing was hopeless, for she was +very ill and helpless, and could never think of becoming a burden upon +one so young and so promising as the gallant perch with green fins. But +when she spoke to him in this strain, he would not listen; he kept right +on bringing her more and more cool sea-foam every day.</p> + +<p>The old gum boot was quite a motherly creature, and anon the sick little +oyster became very much attached to her. Many times as the little +invalid rested her aching head affectionately on the instep of the old +gum boot, the old gum boot told her stories of the world beyond the sea: +how she had been born in a mighty forest, and how proud her<span class="pagenum"><a +name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> folks were of their family tree; +how she had been taken from that forest and moulded into the shape she +now bore; how she had graced and served a foot in amphibious capacities, +until at last, having seen many things and having travelled much, she +had been cast off and hurled into the sea to be the scorn of every crab +and the derision of every fish. These stories were all new to the little +oyster, and amazing, too; she knew only of the sea, having lived therein +all her life. She in turn told the old gum boot quaint legends of the +ocean,—the simple tales she had heard in her early home; and there +was a sweetness and a simplicity in these stories of the deep that +charmed the old gum boot, shrivelled and hardened and pessimistic though +she was.</p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of it all,—the kindness, the care, the amusements, and +the devotion of her friends,—the little oyster remained always a sick +and fragile thing. But no one heard her complain, for she bore her +suffering patiently.</p> + +<p>Not far from this beach where the ocean ended its long travels there was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>a city, and in this city there dwelt with her parents a maiden of the +name of Margaret. From infancy she had been sickly, and although she had +now reached the years of early womanhood, she could not run or walk +about as others did, but she had to be wheeled hither and thither in a +chair. This was very sad; yet Margaret was so gentle and uncomplaining +that from aught she said you never would have thought her life was full +of suffering. Seeing her helplessness, the sympathetic things of Nature +had compassion and were very good to Margaret. The sunbeams stole across +her pathway everywhere, the grass clustered thickest and greenest where +she went, the winds caressed her gently as they passed, and the birds +loved to perch near her window and sing their prettiest songs. Margaret +loved them all,—the sunlight, the singing winds, the grass, the +carolling birds. She communed with them; their wisdom inspired her life, +and this wisdom gave her nature a rare beauty.</p> + +<p>Every pleasant day Margaret was wheeled from her home in the city down +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>to the beach, and there for hours she would sit, looking out, far out +upon the ocean, as if she were communing with the ocean spirits that +lifted up their white arms from the restless waters and beckoned her to +come. Oftentimes the children playing on the beach came where Margaret +sat, and heard her tell little stories of the pebbles and the shells, of +the ships away out at sea, of the ever-speeding gulls, of the grass, of +the flowers, and of the other beautiful things of life; and so in time +the children came to love Margaret. Among those who so often gathered to +hear the gentle sick girl tell her pretty stories was a youth of +Margaret's age,—older than the others, a youth with sturdy frame and a +face full of candor and earnestness. His name was Edward, and he was a +student in the city; he hoped to become a great scholar sometime, and he +toiled very zealously to that end. The patience, the gentleness, the +sweet simplicity, the fortitude of the sick girl charmed him. He found +in her little stories a quaint and beautiful philosophy he never yet had +found in books; there was a valor in her life he never yet had read of +in the histories. So, every day she came and sat upon the beach, Edward +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>came too; and with the children he heard Margaret's stories of the sea, +the air, the grass, the birds, and the flowers.</p> + +<p>From her moist eyrie in the surf the old gum boot descried the group +upon the beach each pleasant day. Now the old gum boot had seen enough +of the world to know a thing or two, as we presently shall see.</p> + +<p>"That tall young man is not a child," quoth the old gum boot, "yet he +comes every day with the children to hear the sick girl tell her +stories! Ah, ha!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is the doctor," suggested the little oyster; and then she +added with a sigh, "but, oh! I hope not."</p> + +<p>This suggestion seemed to amuse the old gum boot highly; at least she +fell into such hysterical laughter that she sprung a leak near her +little toe, which, considering her environments, was a serious mishap.</p> + +<p>"Unless I am greatly mistaken, my child," said the old gum boot to the +little oyster, "that young man is in love with the sick girl!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how terrible!" said the little oyster; and she meant it too, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>she was thinking of the gallant young perch with green fins.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've said it, and I mean it!" continued the old gum boot; "now +just wait and see."</p> + +<p>The old gum boot had guessed aright—so much for the value of worldly +experience! Edward loved Margaret; to him she was the most beautiful, +the most perfect being in the world; her very words seemed to exalt his +nature. Yet he never spoke to her of love. He was content to come with +the children to hear her stories, to look upon her sweet face, and to +worship her in silence. Was not that a very wondrous love?</p> + +<p>In course of time the sick girl Margaret became more interested in the +little ones that thronged daily to hear her pretty stories, and she put +her beautiful fancies into the little songs and quaint poems and tender +legends,—songs and poems and legends about the sea, the flowers, the +birds, and the other beautiful creations of Nature; and in all there was +a sweet simplicity, a delicacy, a reverence, that bespoke Margaret's +spiritual purity and wisdom. In this teaching, and marvelling ever at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>its beauty, Edward grew to manhood. She was his inspiration, yet he +never spoke of love to Margaret. And so the years went by.</p> + +<p>Beginning with the children, the world came to know the sick girl's +power. Her songs were sung in every home, and in every home her verses +and her little stories were repeated. And so it was that Margaret came +to be beloved of all, but he who loved her best spoke never of his love +to her.</p> + +<p>And as these years went by, the sick little oyster lay in the sea +cuddled close to the old gum boot. She was wearier now than ever before, +for there was no cure for her malady. The gallant perch with green fins +was very sad, for his wooing had been hopeless. Still he was devoted, +and still he came each day to the little oyster, bringing her cool +sea-foam and other delicacies of the ocean. Oh, how sick the little +oyster was! But the end came at last.</p> + +<p>The children were on the beach one day, waiting for Margaret, and they +wondered that she did not come. Presently, grown restless, many of the +boys scampered into the water and stood there, with their trousers +rolled up, boldly daring the little waves that rippled up from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +overflow of the surf. And one little boy happened upon the old gum boot. +It was a great discovery.</p> + +<p>"See the old gum boot," cried the boy, fishing it out of the water and +holding it on high. "And here is a little oyster fastened to it! How +funny!"</p> + +<p>The children gathered round the curious object on the beach. None of +them had ever seen such a funny old gum boot, and surely none of them +had ever seen such a funny little oyster. They tore the pale, knotted +little thing from her foster-mother, and handled her with such rough +curiosity that even had she been a robust oyster she must certainly have +died. At any rate, the little oyster was dead now; and the bereaved +perch with green fins must have known it, for he swam up and down his +native cove disconsolately.</p> + +<p>It befell in that same hour that Margaret lay upon her deathbed, and +knowing that she had not long to live, she sent for Edward. And Edward, +when he came to her, was filled with anguish, and clasping her hands in +his, he told her of his love.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Margaret answered him: "I knew it, dear one; and all the songs I +have sung and all the words I have spoken and all the prayers I have +made have been with you, dear one,—all with <i>you</i> in my heart of +hearts."</p> + +<p>"You have purified and exalted my life," cried Edward; "you have been my +best and sweetest inspiration; you have taught me the eternal +truth,—you are my beloved!"</p> + +<p>And Margaret said: "Then in my weakness hath there been a wondrous +strength, and from my sufferings cometh the glory I have sought—"</p> + +<p>So Margaret died, and like a broken lily she lay upon her couch; and all +the sweetness of her pure and gentle life seemed to come down and rest +upon her face; and the songs she had sung and the beautiful stories she +had told were back, too, on angel wings, and made sweet music in that +chamber.</p> + +<p>The children were lingering on the beach when Edward came that day. He +could hear them singing the songs Margaret had taught them. They +wondered that he came alone.</p> + +<p>"See," cried one of the boys, running to meet him and holding a tiny +shell in his hand,—"see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> what we have found in this strange little +shell. Is it not beautiful!"</p> + +<p>Edward took the dwarfed, misshapen thing and lo! it held a beauteous +pearl.</p> + +<p><i>O little sister mine, let me look into your eyes and read an +inspiration there; let me hold your thin white hand and know the +strength of a philosophy more beautiful than human knowledge teaches; +let me see in your dear, patient little face and hear in your gentle +voice the untold valor of your suffering life. Come, little sister, let +me fold you in my arms and have you ever with me, that in the glory of +your faith and love I may walk the paths of wisdom and of peace.</i></p> + +<p>1887.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 302px;"> +<img src="images/142.png" width="302" height="245" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SPRINGTIME.</h2> + + +<p>A child once said to his grandsire: "Gran'pa, what do the flowers mean +when they talk to the old oak-tree about death? I hear them talking +every day, but I cannot understand; it is all very strange."</p> + +<p>The grandsire bade the child think no more of these things; the flowers +were foolish prattlers,—what right had they to put such notions into a +child's head? But the child did not do his grandsire's bidding; he loved +the flowers and the trees, and he went each day to hear them talk.</p> + +<p>It seems that the little vine down by the stone-wall had overheard the +south wind say to the rosebush: "You are a proud, imperious beauty now, +and will not listen to my suit; but wait till my boisterous brother +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>comes from the North,—then you will droop and wither and die, all +because you would not listen to me and fly with me to my home by the +Southern sea."</p> + +<p>These words set the little vine to thinking; and when she had thought +for a long time she spoke to the daisy about it, and the daisy called in +the violet, and the three little ones had a very serious conference; +but, having talked it all over, they came to the conclusion that it was +as much of a mystery as ever. The old oak-tree saw them.</p> + +<p>"You little folks seem very much puzzled about something," said the old +oak-tree.</p> + +<p>"I heard the south wind tell the rosebush that she would die," exclaimed +the vine, "and we do not understand what it is. Can you tell us what it +is to die?"</p> + +<p>The old oak-tree smiled sadly.</p> + +<p>"I do not call it death," said the old oak-tree; "I call it sleep,—a +long, restful, refreshing sleep."</p> + +<p>"How does it feel?" inquired the daisy, looking very full of +astonishment and anxiety.</p> + +<p>"You must know," said the old oak-tree, "that after many, many days we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>all have had such merry times and have bloomed so long and drunk so +heartily of the dew and sunshine and eaten so much of the goodness of +the earth that we feel very weary and we long for repose. Then a great +wind comes out of the north, and we shiver in its icy blast. The +sunshine goes away, and there is no dew for us nor any nourishment in +the earth, and we are glad to go to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me!" cried the vine, "I shall not like that at all! What, +leave this smiling meadow and all the pleasant grass and singing bees +and frolicsome butterflies? No, old oak-tree, I would never go to sleep; +I much prefer sporting with the winds and playing with my little +friends, the daisy and the violet."</p> + +<p>"And I," said the violet, "I think it would be dreadful to go to sleep. +What if we never should wake up again!"</p> + +<p>The suggestion struck the others dumb with terror,—all but the old +oak-tree.</p> + +<p>"Have no fear of that," said the old oak-tree, "for you are sure to +awaken again, and when you have awakened the new life will be sweeter +and happier than the old."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>"What nonsense!" cried the thistle. "You children shouldn't believe a +word of it. When you go to sleep you die, and when you die there's the +last of you!"</p> + +<p>The old oak-tree reproved the thistle; but the thistle maintained his +abominable heresy so stoutly that the little vine and the daisy and the +violet were quite at a loss to know which of the two to believe,—the +old oak-tree or the thistle.</p> + +<p>The child heard it all and was sorely puzzled. What was this death, this +mysterious sleep? Would it come upon him, the child? And after he had +slept awhile would he awaken? His grandsire would not tell him of these +things; perhaps his grandsire did not know.</p> + +<p>It was a long, long summer, full of sunshine and bird-music, and the +meadow was like a garden, and the old oak-tree looked down upon the +grass and flowers and saw that no evil befell them. A long, long +play-day it was to the little vine, the daisy, and the violet. The +crickets and the grasshoppers and the bumblebees joined in the sport, +and romped and made music till it seemed like an endless carnival. Only +every now and then the vine and her little flower friends talked with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>the old oak-tree about that strange sleep and the promised awakening, +and the thistle scoffed at the old oak-tree's cheering words. The child +was there and heard it all.</p> + +<p>One day the great wind came out of the north. Hurry-scurry! back to +their warm homes in the earth and under the old stone-wall scampered the +crickets and bumblebees to go to sleep. Whirr, whirr! Oh, but how +piercing the great wind was; how different from his amiable brother who +had travelled all the way from the Southern sea to kiss the flowers and +woo the rose!</p> + +<p>"Well, this is the last of us!" exclaimed the thistle; "we're going to +die, and that's the end of it all!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried the old oak-tree; "we shall not die; we are going to +sleep. Here, take my leaves, little flowers, and you shall sleep warm +under them. Then, when you awaken, you shall see how much sweeter and +happier the new life is."</p> + +<p>The little ones were very weary indeed. The promised sleep came very +gratefully.</p> + +<p>"We would not be so willing to go to sleep if we thought we should not +awaken," said the violet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>So the little ones went to sleep. The little vine was the last of all to +sink to her slumbers; she nodded in the wind and tried to keep awake +till she saw the old oak-tree close his eyes, but her efforts were vain; +she nodded and nodded, and bowed her slender form against the old +stone-wall, till finally she, too, had sunk into repose. And then the +old oak-tree stretched his weary limbs and gave a last look at the +sullen sky and at the slumbering little ones at his feet; and with that, +the old oak-tree fell asleep too.</p> + +<p>The child saw all these things, and he wanted to ask his grandsire about +them, but his grandsire would not tell him of them; perhaps his +grandsire did not know.</p> + +<p>The child saw the storm-king come down from the hills and ride furiously +over the meadows and over the forest and over the town. The snow fell +everywhere, and the north wind played solemn music in the chimneys. The +storm-king put the brook to bed, and threw a great mantle of snow over +him; and the brook that had romped and prattled all the summer and told +pretty tales to the grass and flowers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> the brook went to sleep too. With +all his fierceness and bluster, the storm-king was very kind; he did not +awaken the old oak-tree and the slumbering flowers. The little vine lay +under the fleecy snow against the old stone-wall and slept peacefully, +and so did the violet and the daisy. Only the wicked old thistle +thrashed about in his sleep as if he dreamt bad dreams, which, all will +allow, was no more than he deserved.</p> + +<p>All through that winter—and it seemed very long—the child thought of +the flowers and the vine and the old oak-tree, and wondered whether in +the springtime they would awaken from their sleep; and he wished for the +springtime to come. And at last the springtime came. One day the +sunbeams fluttered down from the sky and danced all over the meadow.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, little friends!" cried the sunbeams,—"wake up, for it is the +springtime!"</p> + +<p>The brook was the first to respond. So eager, so fresh, so exuberant was +he after his long winter sleep, that he leaped from his bed and +frolicked all over the meadow and played all sorts of curious antics. +Then a little bluebird was seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> in the hedge one morning. He was +calling to the violet.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, little violet," called the bluebird. "Have I come all this +distance to find you sleeping? Wake up; it is the springtime!"</p> + +<p>That pretty little voice awakened the violet, of course.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how sweetly I have slept!" cried the violet; "how happy this new +life is! Welcome, dear friends!"</p> + +<p>And presently the daisy awakened, fresh and beautiful, and then the +little vine, and, last of all, the old oak-tree. The meadow was green, +and all around there were the music, the fragrance, the new, sweet life +of the springtime.</p> + +<p>"I slept horribly," growled the thistle. "I had bad dreams. It was +sleep, after all, but it ought to have been death."</p> + +<p>The thistle never complained again; for just then a four-footed monster +stalked through the meadow and plucked and ate the thistle and then +stalked gloomily away; which was the last of the sceptical +thistle,—truly a most miserable end!</p> + +<p>"You said the truth, dear old oak-tree!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> cried the little vine. "It was +not death,—it was only a sleep, a sweet, refreshing sleep, and this +awakening is very beautiful."</p> + +<p>They all said so,—the daisy, the violet, the oak-tree, the crickets, +the bees, and all the things and creatures of the field and forest that +had awakened from their long sleep to swell the beauty and the glory of +the springtime. And they talked with the child, and the child heard +them. And although the grandsire never spoke to the child about these +things, the child learned from the flowers and trees a lesson of the +springtime which perhaps the grandsire never knew.</p> + +<p>1885.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;"> +<img src="images/154.png" width="395" height="237" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<h2>RODOLPH AND HIS KING.</h2> + + +<p>"Tell me, Father," said the child at Rodolph's knee,—"tell me of the +king."</p> + +<p>"There is no king, my child," said Rodolph. "What you have heard are old +women's tales. Do not believe them, for there is no king."</p> + +<p>"But why, then," queried the child, "do all the people praise and call +on him; why do the birds sing of the king; and why do the brooks always +prattle his name, as they dance from the hills to the sea?"</p> + +<p>"Nay," answered Rodolph, "you imagine these things; there is no king. +Believe me, child, there is no king."</p> + +<p>So spake Rodolph; but scarcely had he uttered the words when the cricket +in the chimney corner chirped loudly, and his shrill notes seemed to +say: "The king—the king." Rodolph could hardly believe his ears. How +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>had the cricket learned to chirp these words? It was beyond all +understanding. But still the cricket chirped, and still his musical +monotone seemed to say, "The king—the king," until, with an angry +frown, Rodolph strode from his house, leaving the child to hear the +cricket's song alone.</p> + +<p>But there were other voices to remind Rodolph of the king. The sparrows +were fluttering under the eaves, and they twittered noisily as Rodolph +strode along, "The king, king, king!" "The king, king, king," twittered +the sparrows, and their little tones were full of gladness and praise.</p> + +<p>A thrush sat in the hedge, and she was singing her morning song. It was +a hymn of praise,—how beautiful it was! "The king—the king—the king," +sang the thrush, and she sang, too, of his goodness,—it was a wondrous +song, and it was all about the king.</p> + +<p>The doves cooed in the elm-trees. "Sing to us!" cried their little ones, +stretching out their pretty heads from the nests. Then the doves nestled +hard by and murmured lullabies, and the lullabies were of the king who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>watched over and protected even the little birds in their nests.</p> + +<p>Rodolph heard these things, and they filled him with anger.</p> + +<p>"It is a lie!" muttered Rodolph; and in great petulance he came to the +brook.</p> + +<p>How noisy and romping the brook was; how capricious, how playful, how +furtive! And how he called to the willows and prattled to the listening +grass as he scampered on his way. But Rodolph turned aside and his face +grew darker. He did not like the voice of the brook; for, lo! just as +the cricket had chirped and the birds had sung, so did this brook murmur +and prattle and sing ever of the king, the king, the king.</p> + +<p>So, always after that, wherever Rodolph went, he heard voices that told +him of the king; yes, even in their quiet, humble way, the flowers +seemed to whisper the king's name, and every breeze that fanned his brow +had a tale to tell of the king and his goodness.</p> + +<p>"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "They all conspire to plague me! +There is no king—there is no king!"</p> + +<p>Once he stood by the sea and saw a mighty ship go sailing by. The waves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>plashed on the shore and told stories to the pebbles and the sands. +Rodolph heard their thousand voices, and he heard them telling of the +king.</p> + +<p>Then a great storm came upon the sea, a tempest such as never before had +been seen. The waves dashed mountain-high and overwhelmed the ship, and +the giant voices of the winds and waves cried of the king, the king! The +sailors strove in agony till all seemed lost. Then, when they could do +no more, they stretched out their hands and called upon the king to save +them,—the king, the king, the king!</p> + +<p>Rodolph saw the tempest subside. The angry winds were lulled, and the +mountain waves sank into sleep, and the ship came safely into port. Then +the sailors sang a hymn of praise, and the hymn was of the king and to +the king.</p> + +<p>"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "It is a lie; there is no king!"</p> + +<p>Yet everywhere he went he heard always of the king; the king's name and +the king's praises were on every tongue; aye, and the things that had no +voices seemed to wear the king's name written upon them, until Rodolph +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>neither saw nor heard anything that did not mind him of the king.</p> + +<p>Then, in great anger, Rodolph said: "I will go to the mountain-tops; +there I shall find no birds, nor trees, nor brooks, nor flowers to prate +of a monarch no one has ever seen. There shall there be no sea to vex me +with its murmurings, nor any human voice to displease me with its +superstitions."</p> + +<p>So Rodolph went to the mountains, and he scaled the loftiest pinnacle, +hoping that there at last he might hear no more of that king whom none +had ever seen. And as he stood upon the pinnacle, what a mighty panorama +was spread before him, and what a mighty anthem swelled upon his ears! +The peopled plains, with their songs and murmurings, lay far below; on +every side the mountain peaks loomed up in snowy grandeur; and overhead +he saw the sky, blue, cold, and cloudless, from horizon to horizon.</p> + +<p>What voice was that which spoke in Rodolph's bosom then as Rodolph's +eyes beheld this revelation?</p> + +<p>"There is a king!" said the voice. "The king lives, and this is his +abiding-place!"</p> + +<p>And how did Rodolph's heart stand still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> when he felt Silence proclaim +the king,—not in tones of thunder, as the tempest had proclaimed him, +nor in the singing voices of the birds and brooks, but so swiftly, so +surely, so grandly, that Rodolph's soul was filled with awe ineffable.</p> + +<p>Then Rodolph cried: "There is a king, and I acknowledge him! Henceforth +my voice shall swell the songs of all in earth and air and sea that know +and praise his name!"</p> + +<p>So Rodolph went to his home. He heard the cricket singing of the king; +yes, and the sparrows under the eaves, the thrush in the hedge, the +doves in the elms, and the brook, too, all singing of the king; and +Rodolph's heart was gladdened by their music. And all the earth and the +things of the earth seemed more beautiful to Rodolph now that he +believed in the king; and to the song all Nature sang Rodolph's voice +and Rodolph's heart made harmonious response.</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a king, my child," said Rodolph to his little one. "Together +let us sing to him, for he is <i>our</i> king, and his goodness abideth +forever and forever."</p> + +<p>1885</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/162.png" width="371" height="221" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS.</h2> + + +<p>One afternoon many years ago two little brothers named Seth and Abner +were playing in the orchard. They were not troubled with the heat of the +August day, for a soft, cool wind came up from the river in the valley +over yonder and fanned their red cheeks and played all kinds of pranks +with their tangled curls. All about them was the hum of bees, the song +of birds, the smell of clover, and the merry music of the crickets. +Their little dog Fido chased them through the high, waving grass, and +rolled with them under the trees, and barked himself hoarse in his +attempt to keep pace with their laughter. Wearied at length, they lay +beneath the bellflower-tree and looked off at the Hampshire hills, and +wondered if the time ever would come when they should go out into the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>world beyond those hills and be great, noisy men. Fido did not +understand it at all. He lolled in the grass, cooling his tongue on the +clover bloom, and puzzling his brain to know why his little masters were +so quiet all at once.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were a man," said Abner, ruefully. "I want to be somebody and +do something. It is very hard to be a little boy so long and to have no +companions but little boys and girls, to see nothing but these same old +trees and this same high grass, and to hear nothing but the same +bird-songs from one day to another."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Seth. "I, too, am very tired of being a little boy, +and I long to go out into the world and be a man like my gran'pa or my +father or my uncles. With nothing to look at but those distant hills and +the river in the valley, my eyes are wearied; and I shall be very happy +when I am big enough to leave this stupid place."</p> + +<p>Had Fido understood their words he would have chided them, for the +little dog loved his home and had no thought of any other pleasure than +romping through the orchard and playing with his little masters all the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>day. But Fido did not understand them.</p> + +<p>The clover bloom heard them with sadness. Had they but listened in turn +they would have heard the clover saying softly: "Stay with me while you +may, little boys; trample me with your merry feet; let me feel the +imprint of your curly heads and kiss the sunburn on your little cheeks. +Love me while you may, for when you go away you never will come back."</p> + +<p>The bellflower-tree heard them, too, and she waved her great, strong +branches as if she would caress the impatient little lads, and she +whispered: "Do not think of leaving me: you are children, and you know +nothing of the world beyond those distant hills. It is full of trouble +and care and sorrow; abide here in this quiet spot till you are prepared +to meet the vexations of that outer world. We are for you,—we trees and +grass and birds and bees and flowers. Abide with us, and learn the +wisdom we teach."</p> + +<p>The cricket in the raspberry-hedge heard them, and she chirped, oh! so +sadly: "You will go out into the world and leave us and never think of +us again till it is too late to return. Open your ears, little boys, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>hear my song of contentment."</p> + +<p>So spake the clover bloom and the bellflower-tree and the cricket; and +in like manner the robin that nested in the linden over yonder, and the +big bumblebee that lived in the hole under the pasture gate, and the +butterfly and the wild rose pleaded with them, each in his own way; but +the little boys did not heed them, so eager were their desires to go +into and mingle with the great world beyond those distant hills.</p> + +<p>Many years went by; and at last Seth and Abner grew to manhood, and the +time was come when they were to go into the world and be brave, strong +men. Fido had been dead a long time. They had made him a grave under the +bellflower-tree,—yes, just where he had romped with the two little boys +that August afternoon Fido lay sleeping amid the humming of the bees and +the perfume of the clover. But Seth and Abner did not think of Fido now, +nor did they give even a passing thought to any of their old +friends,—the bellflower-tree, the clover, the cricket, and the robin. +Their hearts beat with exultation. They were men, and they were going +beyond the hills to know and try the world.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>They were equipped for that struggle, not in a vain, frivolous way, but +as good and brave young men should be. A gentle mother had counselled +them, a prudent father had advised them, and they had gathered from the +sweet things of Nature much of that wisdom before which all knowledge is +as nothing. So they were fortified. They went beyond the hills and came +into the West. How great and busy was the world,—how great and busy it +was here in the West! What a rush and noise and turmoil and seething and +surging, and how keenly did the brothers have to watch and struggle for +vantage ground. Withal, they prospered; the counsel of the mother, the +advice of the father, the wisdom of the grass and flowers and trees, +were much to them, and they prospered. Honor and riches came to them, +and they were happy. But amid it all, how seldom they thought of the +little home among the circling hills where they had learned the first +sweet lessons of life!</p> + +<p>And now they were old and gray. They lived in splendid mansions, and all +people paid them honor.</p> + +<p>One August day a grim messenger stood in Seth's presence and beckoned to +him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who are you?" cried Seth. "What strange power have you over me that the +very sight of you chills my blood and stays the beating of my heart?"</p> + +<p>Then the messenger threw aside his mask, and Seth saw that he was Death. +Seth made no outcry; he knew what the summons meant, and he was content. +But he sent for Abner.</p> + +<p>And when Abner came, Seth was stretched upon his bed, and there was a +strange look in his eyes and a flush upon his cheeks, as though a fatal +fever had laid hold on him.</p> + +<p>"You shall not die!" cried Abner, and he threw himself about his +brother's neck and wept.</p> + +<p>But Seth bade Abner cease his outcry. "Sit here by my bedside and talk +with me," said he, "and let us speak of the Hampshire hills."</p> + +<p>A great wonder overcame Abner. With reverence he listened, and as he +listened, a sweet peace seemed to steal into his soul.</p> + +<p>"I am prepared for Death," said Seth, "and I will go with Death this +day. Let us talk of our childhood now, for, after all the battle with +this great world, it is pleasant to think and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> speak of our boyhood +among the Hampshire hills."</p> + +<p>"Say on, dear brother," said Abner.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of an August day long ago," said Seth, solemnly and +softly. "It was <i>so very</i> long ago, and yet it seems only yesterday. We +were in the orchard together, under the bellflower-tree, and our little +dog—"</p> + +<p>"Fido," said Abner, remembering it all, as the years came back.</p> + +<p>"Fido and you and I, under the bellflower-tree," said Seth. "How we had +played, and how weary we were, and how cool the grass was, and how sweet +was the fragrance of the flowers! Can you remember it, brother?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied Abner, "and I remember how we lay among the clover +and looked off at the distant hills and wondered of the world beyond."</p> + +<p>"And amid our wonderings and longings," said Seth, "how the old +bellflower-tree seemed to stretch her kind arms down to us as if she +would hold us away from that world beyond the hills."</p> + +<p>"And now I can remember that the clover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> whispered to us, and the +cricket in the raspberry-hedge sang to us of contentment," said Abner.</p> + +<p>"The robin, too, carolled in the linden."</p> + +<p>"It is very sweet to remember it now," said Seth. "How blue and hazy the +hills looked; how cool the breeze blew up from the river; how like a +silver lake the old pickerel pond sweltered under the summer sun over +beyond the pasture and broom-corn, and how merry was the music of the +birds and bees!"</p> + +<p>So these old men, who had been little boys together, talked of the +August afternoon when with Fido they had romped in the orchard and +rested beneath the bellflower-tree. And Seth's voice grew fainter, and +his eyes were, oh! so dim; but to the very last he spoke of the dear old +days and the orchard and the clover and the Hampshire hills. And when +Seth fell asleep forever, Abner kissed his brother's lips and knelt at +the bedside and said the prayer his mother had taught him.</p> + +<p>In the street without there was the noise of passing carts, the cries of +trades-people, and all the bustle of a great and busy city; but, +look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>ing upon Seth's dear, dead face, Abner could hear only the music +voices of birds and crickets and summer winds as he had heard them with +Seth when they were little boys together, back among the Hampshire +hills.</p> + + +<p>1885.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<img src="images/174.png" width="370" height="179" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<h2>EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST.</h2> + + +<p>Ezra had written a letter to the home folks, and in it he had complained +that never before had he spent such a weary, lonesome day as this +Thanksgiving day had been. Having finished this letter, he sat for a +long time gazing idly into the open fire that snapped cinders all over +the hearthstone and sent its red forks dancing up the chimney to join +the winds that frolicked and gambolled across the Kansas prairies that +raw November night. It had rained hard all day, and was cold; and +although the open fire made every honest effort to be cheerful, Ezra, as +he sat in front of it in the wooden rocker and looked down into the +glowing embers, experienced a dreadful feeling of loneliness and +homesickness.</p> + +<p>"I'm sick o' Kansas," said Ezra to himself. "Here I've been in this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>plaguey country for goin' on a year, and—yes, I'm sick of it, powerful +sick of it. What a miser'ble Thanksgivin' this has been! They don't know +what Thanksgivin' is out this way. I wish I was back in ol' +Mass'chusetts—that's the country for <i>me</i>, and they hev the kind o' +Thanksgivin' I like!"</p> + +<p>Musing in this strain, while the rain went patter-patter on the +window-panes, Ezra saw a strange sight in the fireplace,—yes, right +among the embers and the crackling flames Ezra saw a strange, beautiful +picture unfold and spread itself out like a panorama.</p> + +<p>"How very wonderful!" murmured the young man. Yet he did not take his +eyes away, for the picture soothed him and he loved to look upon it.</p> + +<p>"It is a pictur' of long ago," said Ezra, softly. "I had like to forgot +it, but now it comes back to me as nat'ral-like as an ol' friend. An' I +seem to be a part of it, an' the feelin' of that time comes back with +the pictur', too."</p> + +<p>Ezra did not stir. His head rested upon his hand, and his eyes were +fixed upon the shadows in the firelight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>"It is a pictur' of the ol' home," said Ezra to himself. "I am back +there in Belchertown, with the Holyoke hills up north an' the Berkshire +mountains a loomin' up gray an' misty-like in the western horizon. Seems +as if it wuz early mornin'; everything is still, and it is so cold when +we boys crawl out o' bed that, if it wuzn't Thanksgivin' mornin', we'd +crawl back again an' wait for Mother to call us. But it <i>is</i> +Thanksgivin' mornin', an' we're goin' skatin' down on the pond. The +squealin' o' the pigs has told us it is five o'clock, and we must hurry; +we're goin' to call by for the Dickerson boys an' Hiram Peabody, an' +we've got to hyper! Brother Amos gets on about half o' my clo'es, and I +get on 'bout half o' his, but it's all the same; they are stout, warm +clo'es, and they're big enough to fit any of us boys,—Mother looked out +for that when she made 'em. When we go downstairs we find the girls +there, all bundled up nice an' warm,—Mary an' Helen an' Cousin Irene. +They're goin' with us, an' we all start out tiptoe and quiet-like so's +not to wake up the ol' folks. The ground is frozen hard; we stub our +toes on the frozen ruts in the road. When we come to the minister's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>house, Laura is standin' on the front stoop, a-waitin' for us. Laura is +the minister's daughter. She's a friend o' Sister Helen's—pretty as a +dagerr'otype, an' gentle-like and tender. Laura lets me carry her +skates, an' I'm glad of it, although I have my hands full already with +the lantern, the hockies, and the rest. Hiram Peabody keeps us waitin', +for he has overslept himself, an' when he comes trottin' out at last the +girls make fun of him,—all except Sister Mary, an' she sort o' sticks +up for Hiram, an' we're all so 'cute we kind o' calc'late we know the +reason why.</p> + +<p>"And now," said Ezra, softly, "the pictur' changes; seems as if I could +see the pond. The ice is like a black lookin'-glass, and Hiram Peabody +slips up the first thing, an' down he comes lickety-split, an' we all +laugh,—except Sister Mary, an' <i>she</i> says it is very imp'lite to laugh +at other folks' misfortunes. Ough! how cold it is, and how my fingers +ache with the frost when I take off my mittens to strap on Laura's +skates! But, oh, how my cheeks burn! And how careful I am not to hurt +Laura, an' how I ask her if that's 'tight enough,' an' how she tells me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>'jist a little tighter,' and how we two keep foolin' along till the +others hev gone an' we are left alone! An' how quick I get my <i>own</i> +skates strapped on,—none o' your new-fangled skates with springs an' +plates an' clamps an' such, but honest, ol'-fashioned wooden ones with +steel runners that curl up over my toes an' have a bright brass button +on the end! How I strap 'em and lash 'em and buckle 'em on! An' Laura +waits for me an' tells me to be sure to get 'em on tight enough,—why, +bless me! after I once got 'em strapped on, if them skates hed come off, +the feet wud ha' come with 'em! An' now away we go,—Laura an' me. +Around the bend—near the medder where Si Barker's dog killed a +woodchuck last summer—we meet the rest. We forget all about the cold. +We run races an' play snap the whip, an' cut all sorts o' didoes, an' we +never mind the pick'rel weed that is froze in on the ice an' trips us up +every time we cut the outside edge; an' then we boys jump over the +air-holes, an' the girls stan' by an' scream an' tell us they know we're +agoin' to drownd ourselves. So the hours go, an' it is sun-up at last, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>an' Sister Helen says we must be gettin' home. When we take our skates +off, our feet feel as if they were wood. Laura has lost her tippet; I +lend her mine, and she kind o' blushes. The old pond seems glad to have +us go, and the fire-hangbird's nest in the willer-tree waves us good-by. +Laura promises to come over to our house in the evenin', and so we break +up.</p> + +<p>"Seems now," continued Ezra, musingly,—"seems now as if I could see us +all at breakfast. The race on the pond has made us hungry, and Mother +says she never knew anybody else's boys that had such capac'ties as +hers. It is the Yankee Thanksgivin' breakfast,—sausages an' fried +potatoes, an' buckwheat cakes an' syrup,—maple syrup, mind ye, for +Father has his own sugar bush, and there was a big run o' sap last +season. Mother says, 'Ezry an' Amos, won't you never get through eatin'? +We want to clear off the table, for there's pies to make, an' nuts to +crack, and laws sakes alive! the turkey's got to be stuffed yit!' Then +how we all fly round! Mother sends Helen up into the attic to get a +squash while Mary's makin' the pie-crust. Amos an' I crack the +walnuts,—they call 'em hickory nuts out in this pesky country of +sage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>brush and pasture land. The walnuts are hard, and it's all we can +do to crack 'em. Ev'ry once 'n a while one on 'em slips outer our +fingers an' goes dancin' over the floor or flies into the pan Helen is +squeezin' pumpkin into through the col'nder. Helen says we're shif'less +an' good for nothin' but frivolin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the +walnuts so 's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so 's not to be +all jammed to pieces like the walnuts was down at the party at the +Peasleys' last winter. An' now here comes Tryphena Foster, with her +gingham gown an' muslin apron on; her folks have gone up to Amherst for +Thanksgivin', an' Tryphena has come over to help our folks get dinner. +She thinks a great deal o' Mother, 'cause Mother teaches her +Sunday-school class an' says Tryphena oughter marry a missionary. There +is bustle everywhere, the rattle uv pans an' the clatter of dishes; an' +the new kitch'n stove begins to warm up an' git red, till Helen loses +her wits an' is flustered, an' sez she never could git the hang o' that +stove's dampers.</p> + +<p>"An' now," murmured Ezra, gently, as a tone of deeper reverence crept +into his voice, "I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> see Father sittin' all by himself in +the parlor. Father's hair is very gray, and there are wrinkles on his +honest old face. He is lookin' through the winder at the Holyoke hills +over yonder, and I can guess he's thinkin' of the time when he wuz a +boy like me an' Amos, an' useter climb over them hills an' kill +rattlesnakes an' hunt partridges. Or doesn't his eyes quite reach the +Holyoke hills? Do they fall kind o' lovingly but sadly on the little +buryin' ground jest beyond the village? Ah, Father knows that spot, +an' he loves it, too, for there are treasures there whose memory he +wouldn't swap for all the world could give. So, while there is a kind +o' mist in Father's eyes, I can see he is dreamin'-like of sweet an' +tender things, and a-communin' with memory,—hearin' voices I +never heard an' feelin' the tech of hands I never pressed; an' seein' +Father's peaceful face I find it hard to think of a Thanksgivin' +sweeter than Father's is.</p> + +<p>"The pictur' in the firelight changes now," said Ezra, "an' seems as if +I wuz in the old frame meetin'-house. The meetin'-house is on the hill, +and meetin' begins at half pas' ten. Our pew is well up in front,—seems +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>as if I could see it now. It has a long red cushion on the seat, and in +the hymn-book rack there is a Bible an' a couple of Psalmodies. We walk +up the aisle slow, and Mother goes in first; then comes Mary, then me, +then Helen, then Amos, and then Father. Father thinks it is jest as well +to have one o' the girls set in between me an' Amos. The meetin'-house +is full, for everybody goes to meetin' Thanksgivin' day. The minister +reads the proclamation an' makes a prayer, an' then he gives out a +psalm, an' we all stan' up an' turn 'round an' join the choir. Sam +Merritt has come up from Palmer to spend Thanksgivin' with the ol' +folks, an' he is singin' tenor to-day in his ol' place in the choir. +Some folks say he sings wonderful well, but <i>I</i> don't like Sam's voice. +Laura sings soprano in the choir, and Sam stands next to her an' holds +the book.</p> + +<p>"Seems as if I could hear the minister's voice, full of earnestness an' +melody, comin' from way up in his little round pulpit. He is tellin' us +why we should be thankful, an', as he quotes Scriptur' an' Dr. Watts, we +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>boys wonder how anybody can remember so much of the Bible. Then I get +nervous and worried. Seems to me the minister was never comin' to +lastly, and I find myself wonderin' whether Laura is listenin' to what +the preachin' is about, or is writin' notes to Sam Merritt in the back +of the tune book. I get thirsty, too, and I fidget about till Father +looks at me, and Mother nudges Helen, and Helen passes it along to me +with interest.</p> + +<p>"An' then," continues Ezra in his revery, "when the last hymn is given +out an' we stan' up agin an' join the choir, I am glad to see that Laura +is singin' outer the book with Miss Hubbard, the alto. An' goin' out o' +meetin' I kind of edge up to Laura and ask her if I kin have the +pleasure of seein' her home.</p> + +<p>"An' now we boys all go out on the Common to play ball. The Enfield boys +have come over, and, as all the Hampshire county folks know, they are +tough fellers to beat. Gorham Polly keeps tally, because he has got the +newest jack-knife,—oh, how slick it whittles the old broom-handle +Gorham picked up in Packard's store an' brought along jest to keep tally +on! It is a great game of ball; the bats are broad and light, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>ball is small and soft. But the Enfield boys beat us at last; leastwise +they make 70 tallies to our 58, when Heman Fitts knocks the ball over +into Aunt Dorcas Eastman's yard, and Aunt Dorcas comes out an' picks up +the ball an' takes it into the house, an' we have to stop playin'. Then +Phineas Owens allows he can flop any boy in Belchertown, an' Moses Baker +takes him up, an' they wrassle like two tartars, till at last Moses +tuckers Phineas out an' downs him as slick as a whistle.</p> + +<p>"Then we all go home, for Thanksgivin' dinner is ready. Two long tables +have been made into one, and one of the big tablecloths Gran'ma had when +she set up housekeepin' is spread over 'em both. We all set +round,—Father, Mother, Aunt Lydia Holbrook, Uncle Jason, Mary, Helen, +Tryphena Foster, Amos, and me. How big an' brown the turkey is, and how +good it smells! There are bounteous dishes of mashed potato, turnip, an' +squash, and the celery is very white and cold, the biscuits are light +an' hot, and the stewed cranberries are red as Laura's cheeks. Amos and +I get the drumsticks; Mary wants the wish-bone to put over the door for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>Hiram, but Helen gets it. Poor Mary, she always <i>did</i> have to give up +to 'rushin' Helen,' as we call her. The pies,—oh, what pies mother +makes; no dyspepsia in 'em, but good-nature an' good health an' +hospitality! Pumpkin pies, mince an' apple too, and then a big dish of +pippins an' russets an' bellflowers, an', last of all, walnuts with +cider from the Zebrina Dickerson farm! I tell ye, there's a Thanksgivin' +dinner for ye! that's what we get in old Belchertown; an' that's the +kind of livin' that makes the Yankees so all-fired good an' smart.</p> + +<p>"But the best of all," said Ezra, very softly to himself,—"oh, yes, +the best scene in all the pictur' is when evenin' comes, when the +lamps are lit in the parlor, when the neighbors come in, and when +there is music an' singin' an' games. An' it's this part o' the +pictur' that makes me homesick now and fills my heart with a longin' I +never had before; an' yet it sort o' mellows an' comforts me, too. +Miss Serena Cadwell, whose beau was killed in the war, plays on the +melodeon, and we all sing,—all on us, men, womenfolks, an' children. +Sam Merritt is there, an' he sings a tenor song about love. The women +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>sort of whisper round that he's goin' to be married to a Palmer lady +nex' spring, an' I think to myself I never heard better singin' than +Sam's. Then we play games,—proverbs, buzz, clap-in-clap-out, +copenhagen, fox-an'-geese, button-button-who's-got-the-button, +spin-the-platter, go-to-Jerusalem, my-ship's-come-in, and all the +rest. The ol' folks play with the young folks just as nat'ral as can +be; and we all laugh when Deacon Hosea Cowles hez to measure six yards +of love ribbon with Miss Hepsy Newton, and cut each yard with a kiss; +for the deacon hez been sort o' purrin' round Miss Hepsy for goin' on +two years. Then, aft'r a while, when Mary an' Helen bring in the +cookies, nutcakes, cider, an' apples, Mother says: 'I don't b'lieve +we're goin' to hev enough apples to go round; Ezry, I guess I'll have +to get you to go down-cellar for some more.' Then I says: 'All right, +Mother, I'll go, providin' some one'll go along an' hold the candle.' +An' when I say this I look right at Laura, an' she blushes. Then +Helen, jest for meanness, says: 'Ezry, I s'pose you aint willin' to +have your fav'rite sister go down-cellar with you an' catch her death +o' cold?' But Mary, who hez been showin' Hiram Peabody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> the phot'graph +album for more 'n an hour, comes to the rescue an' makes Laura take +the candle, and she shows Laura how to hold it so it won't go out.</p> + +<p>"The cellar is warm an' dark. There are cobwebs all between the rafters +an' everywhere else except on the shelves where Mother keeps the butter +an' eggs an' other things that would freeze in the butt'ry upstairs. The +apples are in bar'ls up against the wall, near the potater-bin. How +fresh an' sweet they smell! Laura thinks she sees a mouse, an' she +trembles an' wants to jump up on the pork bar'l, but I tell her that +there sha'n't no mouse hurt her while I'm round; and I mean it, too, for +the sight of Laura a-tremblin' makes me as strong as one of Father's +steers. 'What kind of apples do you like best, Ezry?' asks +Laura,—'russets or greenin's or crow-eggs or bellflowers or Baldwins or +pippins?' 'I like the Baldwins best,' says I, ''coz they've got red +cheeks just like yours.' 'Why, Ezry Thompson! how you talk!' says Laura. +'You oughter be ashamed of yourself!' But when I get the dish filled up +with apples there aint a Baldwin in all the lot that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> can compare with +the bright red of Laura's cheeks. An' Laura knows it, too, an' she sees +the mouse agin, an' screams, and then the candle goes out, and we are in +a dreadful stew. But I, bein' almost a man, contrive to bear up under +it, and knowin' she is an orph'n, I comfort an' encourage Laura the best +I know how, and we are almost upstairs when Mother comes to the door and +wants to know what has kep' us so long. Jest as if Mother doesn't know! +Of course she does; an' when Mother kisses Laura good-by that night +there is in the act a tenderness that speaks more sweetly than even +Mother's words.</p> + +<p>"It is so like Mother," mused Ezra; "so like her with her gentleness an' +clingin' love. Hers is the sweetest picture of all, and hers the best +love."</p> + +<p>Dream on, Ezra; dream of the old home with its dear ones, its holy +influences, and its precious inspiration,—mother. Dream on in the +far-away firelight; and as the angel hand of memory unfolds these sacred +visions, with thee and them shall abide, like a Divine comforter, the +spirit of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>1885</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/192.png" width="350" height="233" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<h2>LUDWIG AND ELOISE.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time there were two youths named Herman and Ludwig; and they +both loved Eloise, the daughter of the old burgomaster. Now, the old +burgomaster was very rich, and having no child but Eloise, he was +anxious that she should be well married and settled in life. "For," said +he, "death is likely to come to me at any time: I am old and feeble, and +I want to see my child sheltered by another's love before I am done with +earth forever."</p> + +<p>Eloise was much beloved by all the youth in the village, and there was +not one who would not gladly have taken her to wife; but none loved her +so much as did Herman and Ludwig. Nor did Eloise care for any but Herman +and Ludwig, and she loved Herman. The burgomaster said: "Choose whom you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>will—I care not! So long as he be honest I will have him for a son and +thank Heaven for him."</p> + +<p>So Eloise chose Herman, and all said she chose wisely; for Herman was +young and handsome, and by his valor had won distinction in the army, +and had thrice been complimented by the general. So when the brave young +captain led Eloise to the altar there was great rejoicing in the +village. The beaux, forgetting their disappointments, and the maidens, +seeing the cause of all their jealousy removed, made merry together; and +it was said that never had there been in the history of the province an +event so joyous as was the wedding of Herman and Eloise.</p> + +<p>But in all the Village there was one aching heart. Ludwig, the young +musician, saw with quiet despair the maiden he loved go to the altar +with another. He had known Eloise from childhood, and he could not say +when his love of her began, it was so very long ago; but now he knew his +heart was consumed by a hopeless passion. Once, at a village festival, +he had begun to speak to her of his love; but Eloise had placed her hand +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>kindly upon his lips and told him to say no further, for they had +always been and always would be brother and sister. So Ludwig never +spoke his love after that, and Eloise and he were as brother and sister; +but the love of her grew always within him, and he had no thought but of +her.</p> + +<p>And now, when Eloise and Herman were wed, Ludwig feigned that he had +received a message from a rich relative in a distant part of the kingdom +bidding him come thither, and Ludwig went from the village and was seen +there no more.</p> + +<p>When the burgomaster died all his possessions went to Herman and Eloise; +and they were accounted the richest folk in the province, and so good +and charitable were they that they were beloved by all. Meanwhile Herman +had risen to greatness in the army, for by his valorous exploits he had +become a general, and he was much endeared to the king. And Eloise and +Herman lived in a great castle in the midst of a beautiful park, and the +people came and paid them reverence there.</p> + +<p>And no one in all these years spoke of Ludwig. No one thought of him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>Ludwig was forgotten. And so the years went by.</p> + +<p>It came to pass, however, that from a far-distant province there spread +the fame of a musician so great that the king sent for him to visit the +court. No one knew the musician's name nor whence he came, for he lived +alone and would never speak of himself; but his music was so tender and +beautiful that it was called heart-music, and he himself was called the +Master. He was old and bowed with infirmities, but his music was always +of youth and love; it touched every heart with its simplicity and +pathos, and all wondered how this old and broken man could create so +much of tenderness and sweetness on these themes.</p> + +<p>But when the king sent for the Master to come to court the Master +returned him answer: "No, I am old and feeble. To leave my home would +weary me unto death. Let me die here as I have lived these long years, +weaving my music for hearts that need my solace."</p> + +<p>Then the people wondered. But the king was not angry; in pity he sent +the Master a purse of gold, and bade him come or not come, as he willed. +Such honor had never before been shown any subject in the kingdom, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>all the people were dumb with amazement. But the Master gave the purse +of gold to the poor of the village wherein he lived.</p> + +<p>In those days Herman died, full of honors and years, and there was a +great lamentation in the land, for Herman was beloved by all. And Eloise +wept unceasingly and would not be comforted.</p> + +<p>On the seventh day after Herman had been buried there came to the castle +in the park an aged and bowed man who carried in his white and trembling +hands a violin. His kindly face was deeply wrinkled, and a venerable +beard swept down upon his breast. He was weary and footsore, but he +heeded not the words of pity bestowed on him by all who beheld him +tottering on his way. He knocked boldly at the castle gate, and demanded +to be brought into the presence of Eloise.</p> + +<p>And Eloise said: "Bid him enter; perchance his music will comfort my +breaking heart."</p> + +<p>Then, when the old man had come into her presence, behold! he was the +Master,—ay, the Master whose fame was in every land, whose heart-music +was on every tongue.</p> + +<p>"If thou art indeed the Master," said Eloise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> "let thy music be balm to +my chastened spirit."</p> + +<p>The Master said: "Ay, Eloise, I will comfort thee in thy sorrow, and thy +heart shall be stayed, and a great joy will come to thee."</p> + +<p>Then the Master drew his bow across the strings, and lo! forthwith there +arose such harmonies as Eloise had never heard before. Gently, +persuasively, they stole upon her senses and filled her soul with an +ecstasy of peace.</p> + +<p>"Is it Herman that speaks to me?" cried Eloise. "It is his voice I hear, +and it speaks to me of love. With thy heart-music, O Master, all the +sweetness of his life comes back to comfort me!"</p> + +<p>The Master did not pause; as he played, it seemed as if each tender word +and caress of Herman's life was stealing back on music's pinions to +soothe the wounds that death had made.</p> + +<p>"It is the song of our love-life," murmured Eloise. "How full of +memories it is—what tenderness and harmony—and, oh! what peace it +brings! But tell me, Master, what means this minor chord,—this +undertone of sadness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> and of pathos that flows like a deep, unfathomable +current throughout it all, and wailing, weaves itself about thy theme of +love and happiness with its weird and subtile influences?"</p> + +<p>Then the Master said: "It is that shade of sorrow and sacrifice, O +Eloise, that ever makes the picture of love more glorious. An undertone +of pathos has been <i>my</i> part in all these years to symmetrize the love +of Herman and Eloise. The song of thy love is beautiful, and who shall +say it is not beautified by the sad undertone of Ludwig's broken heart?"</p> + +<p>"Thou art Ludwig!" cried Eloise. "Thou art Ludwig, who didst love me, +and hast come to comfort me who loved thee not!"</p> + +<p>The Master indeed was Ludwig; but when they hastened to do him homage he +heard them not, for with that last and sweetest heart-song his head sank +upon his breast, and he was dead.</p> + + +<p>1885.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"> +<img src="images/202.png" width="393" height="231" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2>FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND.</h2> + + +<p>One morning in May Fido sat on the front porch, and he was deep in +thought. He was wondering whether the people who were moving into the +next house were as cross and unfeeling as the people who had just moved +out. He hoped they were not, for the people who had just moved out had +never treated Fido with that respect and kindness which Fido believed he +was on all occasions entitled to.</p> + +<p>"The new-comers must be nice folks," said Fido to himself, "for their +feather-beds look big and comfortable, and their baskets are all ample +and generous,—and see, there goes a bright gilt cage, and there is +a plump yellow canary bird in it! Oh, how glad Mrs. Tabby will be to see +it,—she so dotes on dear little <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>canary birds!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tabby was the old brindled cat, who was the mother of the four +cunning little kittens in the hay-mow. Fido had heard her remark very +purringly only a few days ago that she longed for a canary bird, just to +amuse her little ones and give them correct musical ears. Honest old +Fido! There was no guile in his heart, and he never dreamed there was in +all the wide world such a sin as hypocrisy. So when Fido saw the little +canary bird in the cage he was glad for Mrs. Tabby's sake.</p> + +<p>While Fido sat on the front porch and watched the people moving into the +next house another pair of eyes peeped out of the old hollow maple over +the way. This was the red-headed woodpecker, who had a warm, cosey nest +far down in the old hollow maple, and in the nest there were four +beautiful eggs, of which the red-headed woodpecker was very proud.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Mr. Fido," called the red-headed woodpecker from her high +perch. "You are out bright and early to-day. And what do you think of +our new neighbors?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I cannot tell," replied Fido, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>wagging his tail +cheerily, "for I am not acquainted with them. But I have been watching +them closely, and by to-day noon I think I shall be on speaking terms +with them,—provided, of course, they are not the cross, unkind +people our old neighbors were."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do so hope there are no little boys in the family," sighed the +red-headed woodpecker; and then she added, with much determination and a +defiant toss of her beautiful head: "I hate little boys!"</p> + +<p>"Why so?" inquired Fido. "As for myself, I love little boys. I have +always found them the pleasantest of companions. Why do <i>you</i> dislike +them?"</p> + +<p>"Because they are wicked," said the red-headed woodpecker. "They climb +trees and break up the nests we have worked so hard to build, and they +steal away our lovely eggs—oh, I hate little boys!"</p> + +<p>"Good little boys don't steal birds' eggs," said Fido, "and I'm sure I +never would play with a bad boy."</p> + +<p>But the red-headed woodpecker insisted that all little boys were wicked; +and, firm in this faith, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>she flew away to the linden over +yonder, where, she had heard the thrush say, there lived a family of fat +white grubs. The red-headed woodpecker wanted her breakfast, and it +would have been hard to find a more palatable morsel for her than a +white fat grub.</p> + +<p>As for Fido, he sat on the front porch and watched the people moving in. +And as he watched them he thought of what the red-headed woodpecker had +said, and he wondered whether it could be possible for little boys to be +so cruel as to rob birds' nests. As he brooded over this sad +possibility, his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a +voice that fell pleasantly on his ears.</p> + +<p>"Goggie, goggie, goggie!" said the voice. "Tum here, 'ittle +goggie—tum here, goggie, goggie, goggie!"</p> + +<p>Fido looked whence the voice seemed to come, and he saw a tiny figure on +the other side of the fence,—a cunning baby-figure in the yard +that belonged to the house where the new neighbors were moving in. A +second glance assured Fido that the calling stranger was a little boy +not more than three years old, wearing a pretty dress, and a broad hat +that crowned his yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> hair and shaded his big blue eyes and +dimpled face. The sight was a pleasing one, and Fido vibrated his +tail,—very cautiously, however, for Fido was not quite certain +that the little boy meant his greeting for him, and Fido's sad +experiences with the old neighbors had made him wary about scraping +acquaintances too hastily.</p> + +<p>"Tum, 'ittle goggie!" persisted the prattling stranger, and, as if to +encourage Fido, the little boy stretched his chubby arms through the +fence and waved them entreatingly.</p> + +<p>Fido was convinced now; so he got up, and with many cordial gestures of +his hospitable tail, trotted down the steps and over the lawn to the +corner of the fence where the little stranger was.</p> + +<p>"Me love oo," said the little stranger, patting Fido's honest brown +back; "me love oo, 'ittle goggie."</p> + +<p>Fido knew that, for there were caresses in every stroke of the dimpled +hands. Fido loved the little boy, too,—yes, all at once he loved +the little boy; and he licked the dimpled hands, and gave three short, +quick barks, and wagged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> his tail hysterically. So then and +there began the friendship of Fido and the little boy.</p> + +<p>Presently Fido crawled under the fence into the next yard, and then the +little boy sat down on the grass, and Fido put his forepaws in the +little boy's lap and cocked up his ears and looked up into the little +boy's face, as much as to say, "We shall be great friends, shall we not, +little boy?"</p> + +<p>"Me love oo," said the little boy; "me wan' to tiss oo, 'ittle goggie!"</p> + +<p>And the little boy did kiss Fido,—yes, right on Fido's cold nose; +and Fido liked to have the little boy kiss him, for it reminded him of +another little boy who used to kiss him, but who was now so big that he +was almost ashamed to play with Fido any more.</p> + +<p>"Is oo sit, 'ittle goggie?" asked the little boy, opening his blue eyes +to their utmost capacity and looking very piteous. "Oo nose be so told, +oo mus' be sit, 'ittle goggie!"</p> + +<p>But no, Fido was not sick, even though his nose <i>was</i> cold. Oh, no; he +romped and played all that morning in the cool, green grass with the +little boy; and the red-headed woodpecker,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> clinging to the bark +on the hickory-tree, laughed at their merry antics till her sides ached +and her beautiful head turned fairly livid. Then, at last, the little +boy's mamma came out of the house and told him he had played long +enough; and neither the red-headed woodpecker nor Fido saw him again +that day.</p> + +<p>But the next morning the little boy toddled down to the fence-corner, +bright and early, and called, "Goggie! goggie! goggie!" so loudly, that +Fido heard him in the wood-shed, where he was holding a morning chat +with Mrs. Tabby. Fido hastened to answer the call; the way he spun out +of the wood-shed and down the gravel walk and around the corner of the +house was a marvel.</p> + +<p>"Mamma says oo dot f'eas, 'ittle goggie," said the little boy. "<i>Has</i> oo +dot f'eas?"</p> + +<p>Fido looked crestfallen, for could Fido have spoken he would have +confessed that he indeed <i>was</i> afflicted with fleas,—not with very +many fleas, but just enough to interrupt his slumbers and his +meditations at the most inopportune moments. And the little boy's +guileless impeachment set Fido to feeling creepy-crawly all of a sudden, +and without any further ado Fido turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> deftly in his tracks, +twisted his head back toward his tail, and by means of several +well-directed bites and plunges gave the malicious Bedouins thereabouts +located timely warning to behave themselves. The little boy thought this +performance very funny, and he laughed heartily. But Fido looked +crestfallen.</p> + +<p>Oh, what play and happiness they had that day; how the green grass +kissed their feet, and how the smell of clover came with the springtime +breezes from the meadow yonder! The red-headed woodpecker heard them at +play, and she clambered out of the hollow maple and dodged hither and +thither as if she, too, shared their merriment. Yes, and the yellow +thistle-bird, whose nest was in the blooming lilac-bush, came and +perched in the pear-tree and sang a little song about the dear little +eggs in her cunning home. And there was a flower in the +fence-corner,—a sweet, modest flower that no human eyes but the +little boy's had ever seen,—and she sang a little song, too, a +song about the kind old mother earth and the pretty sunbeams, <span class="pagenum"><a +name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>the gentle rain and the droning +bees. Why, the little boy had never known anything half so beautiful, +and Fido,—he, too, was delighted beyond all telling. If the whole +truth must be told, Fido had such an exciting and bewildering romp that +day that when night came, and he lay asleep on the kitchen floor, he +dreamed he was tumbling in the green grass with the little boy, and he +tossed and barked and whined so in his sleep that the hired man had to +get up in the night and put him out of doors.</p> + +<p>Down in the pasture at the end of the lane lived an old woodchuck. Last +year the freshet had driven him from his childhood's home in the +cornfield by the brook, and now he resided in a snug hole in the +pasture. During their rambles one day, Fido and his little boy friend +had come to the pasture, and found the old woodchuck sitting upright at +the entrance to his hole.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you, old Mr. Woodchuck," said Fido. "I have +too much respect for your gray hairs."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied the woodchuck, sarcastically, "but I'm not afraid +of any bench-legged fyste that ever walked. It was only last week <span class="pagenum"><a +name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>that I whipped Deacon Skinner's +yellow mastiff, and I calc'late I can trounce you, you ridiculous little +brown cur!"</p> + +<p>The little boy did not hear this badinage. When he saw the woodchuck +solemnly perched at the entrance to his hole he was simply delighted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, see!" cried the little boy, stretching out his fat arms and running +toward the woodchuck,—"oh, see,—nuzzer 'ittle goggie! Tum +here, 'ittle goggie,—me love oo!"</p> + +<p>But the old woodchuck was a shy creature, and not knowing what guile the +little boy's cordial greeting might mask, the old woodchuck discreetly +disappeared in his hole, much to the little boy's amazement.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the old woodchuck, the little boy, and Fido became fast +friends in time, and almost every day they visited together in the +pasture. The old woodchuck—hoary and scarred veteran that he +was—had wonderful stories to tell,—stories of marvellous +adventures, of narrow escapes, of battles with cruel dogs, and of +thrilling experiences that were altogether new to his wondering +listeners. Meanwhile <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>the red-headed woodpecker's eggs in the +hollow maple had hatched, and the proud mother had great tales to tell +of her baby birds,—of how beautiful and knowing they were, and of +what good, noble birds they were going to be when they grew up. The +yellow-bird, too, had four fuzzy little babies in her nest in the +lilac-bush, and every now and then she came to sing to the little boy +and Fido of her darlings. Then, when the little boy and Fido were tired +with play, they would sit in the rowen near the fence-corner and hear +the flower tell a story the dew had brought fresh from the stars the +night before. They all loved each other,—the little boy, Fido, the +old woodchuck, the red-headed woodpecker, the yellow-bird, and the +flower,—yes, all through the days of spring and all through the +summer time they loved each other in their own honest, sweet, simple +way.</p> + +<p>But one morning Fido sat on the front porch and wondered why the little +boy had not come to the fence-corner and called to him. The sun was +high, the men had been long gone to the harvest fields, and the heat of +the early autumn day had driven the birds to the thickest foliage of the +trees. Fido could not understand why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> the little boy did not +come; he felt, oh! so lonesome, and he yearned for the sound of a little +voice calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie."</p> + +<p>The red-headed woodpecker could not explain it, nor could the +yellow-bird. Fido trotted leisurely down to the fence-corner and asked +the flower if she had seen the little boy that morning. But no, the +flower had not laid eyes on the little boy, and she could only shake her +head doubtfully when Fido asked her what it all meant. At last in +desperation Fido braced himself for an heroic solution of the mystery, +and as loudly as ever he could, he barked three times,—in the +hope, you know, that the little boy would hear his call and come. But +the little boy did not come.</p> + +<p>Then Fido trotted sadly down the lane to the pasture to talk with the +old woodchuck about this strange thing. The old woodchuck saw him coming +and ambled out to meet him.</p> + +<p>"But where is our little boy?" asked the old woodchuck.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said Fido. "I waited for him and called to him again +and again, but he never came."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ah, those were sorry days for the little boy's friends, and sorriest for +Fido. Poor, honest Fido, how lonesome he was and how he moped about! How +each sudden sound, how each footfall, startled him! How he sat all those +days upon the front door-stoop, with his eyes fixed on the fence-corner +and his rough brown ears cocked up as if he expected each moment to see +two chubby arms stretched out toward him and to hear a baby voice +calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie."</p> + +<p>Once only they saw him,—Fido, the flower, and the others. It was +one day when Fido had called louder than usual. They saw a little figure +in a night-dress come to an upper window and lean his arms out. They saw +it was the little boy, and, oh! how pale and ill he looked. But his +yellow hair was as glorious as ever, and the dimples came back with the +smile that lighted his thin little face when he saw Fido; and he leaned +on the window casement and waved his baby hands feebly, and cried: +"Goggie! goggie!" till Fido saw the little boy's mother come and take +him from the window.</p> + +<p>One morning Fido came to the fence-corner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>—how very lonely +that spot seemed now—and he talked with the flower and the +woodpecker; and the yellow-bird came, too, and they all talked of the +little boy. And at that very moment the old woodchuck reared his hoary +head by the hole in the pasture, and he looked this way and that and +wondered why the little boy never came any more.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," said Fido to the yellow-bird,—"suppose you fly to the +window way up there and see what the little boy is doing. Sing him one +of your pretty songs, and tell him we are lonesome without him; that we +are waiting for him in the old fence-corner."</p> + +<p>Then the yellow-bird did as Fido asked,—she flew to the window +where they had once seen the little boy, and alighting upon the sill, +she peered into the room. In another moment she was back on the bush at +Fido's side.</p> + +<p>"He is asleep," said the yellow-bird.</p> + +<p>"Asleep!" cried Fido.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the yellow-bird, "he is fast asleep. I think he must be +dreaming a beautiful dream, for I could see a smile on his face, and his +little hands were folded on his bosom. There were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> flowers all +about him, and but for their sweet voices the chamber would have been +very still."</p> + +<p>"Come, let us wake him," said Fido; "let us all call to him at once. +Then perhaps he will hear us and awaken and answer; perhaps he will +come."</p> + +<p>So they all called in chorus,—Fido and the other honest friends. +They called so loudly that the still air of that autumn morning was +strangely startled, and the old woodchuck in the pasture way off yonder +heard the echoes and wondered.</p> + +<p>"Little boy! little boy!" they called, "why are you sleeping? Why are +you sleeping, little boy?"</p> + +<p>Call on, dear voices! but the little boy will never hear. The dimpled +hands that caressed you are indeed folded upon his breast; the lips that +kissed your honest faces are sealed; the baby voice that sang your +playtime songs with you is hushed, and all about him is the fragrance +and the beauty of flowers. Call on, O honest friends! but he shall never +hear your calling; for, as if he were aweary of the love and play and +sunshine that were all he knew of earth, our darling is asleep forever.</p> + +<p>1885.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;"> +<img src="images/220.png" width="263" height="247" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE OLD MAN.</h2> + + +<p>I called him the Old Man, but he wuzn't an old man; he wuz a little +boy—our fust one; 'nd his gran'ma, who'd had a heap of experience in +sich matters, allowed that he wuz for looks as likely a child as she'd +ever clapped eyes on. Bein' our fust, we sot our hearts on him, and +Lizzie named him Willie, for that wuz the name she liked best, havin' +had a brother Willyum killed in the war. But I never called him anything +but the Old Man, and that name seemed to fit him, for he wuz one of your +sollum babies,—alwuz thinkin' 'nd thinkin' 'nd thinkin', like he wuz a +jedge, and when he laffed it wuzn't like other children's laffs, it wuz +so sad-like.</p> + +<p>Lizzie 'nd I made it up between us that when the Old Man growed up we'd +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>send him to collige 'nd give him a lib'ril edication, no matter though +we had to sell the farm to do it. But we never cud exactly agree as to +what we was goin' to make of him; Lizzie havin' her heart sot on his +bein' a preacher like his gran'pa Baker, and I wantin' him to be a +lawyer 'nd git rich out'n the corporations, like his uncle Wilson +Barlow. So we never come to no definite conclusion as to what the Old +Man wuz goin' to be bime by; but while we wuz thinkin' 'nd debatin' the +Old Man kep' growin' 'nd growin', and all the time he wuz as serious 'nd +sollum as a jedge.</p> + +<p>Lizzie got jest wrapt up in that boy; toted him round ever'where 'nd +never let on like it made her tired,—powerful big 'nd hearty child too, +but heft warn't nothin' 'longside of Lizzie's love for the Old Man. When +he caught the measles from Sairy Baxter's baby Lizzie sot up day 'nd +night till he wuz well, holdin' his hands 'nd singin' songs to him, 'nd +cryin' herse'f almost to death because she dassent give him cold water +to drink when he called f'r it. As for me, <i>my</i> heart wuz wrapt up in +the Old Man, <i>too</i>, but, bein' a man, it wuzn't for me to show it like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>Lizzie, bein' a woman; and now that the Old Man is—wall, now that he +has gone, it wouldn't do to let on how much I sot by him, for that would +make Lizzie feel all the wuss.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, when I think of it, it makes me sorry that I didn't show the +Old Man some way how much I wuz wrapt up in him. Used to hold him in my +lap 'nd make faces for him 'nd alder whistles 'nd things; sometimes I'd +kiss him on his rosy cheek, when nobody wuz lookin'; oncet I tried to +sing him a song, but it made him cry, 'nd I never tried my hand at +singin' again. But, somehow, the Old Man didn't take to me like he took +to his mother: would climb down outern my lap to git where Lizzie wuz; +would hang on to her gownd, no matter what she wuz doin',—whether she +was makin' bread, or sewin', or puttin' up pickles, it wuz alwuz the +same to the Old Man; he wuzn't happy unless he wuz right there, clost +beside his mother.</p> + +<p>Most all boys, as I've heern tell, is proud to be round with their +father, doin' what <i>he</i> does 'nd wearin' the kind of clothes <i>he</i> wears. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>But the Old Man wuz diff'rent; he allowed that his mother wuz his best +friend, 'nd the way he stuck to her—wall, it has alwuz been a great +comfort to Lizzie to recollect it.</p> + +<p>The Old Man had a kind of confidin' way with his mother. Every oncet in +a while, when he'd be playin' by hisself in the front room, he'd call +out, "Mudder, mudder;" and no matter where Lizzie wuz,—in the kitchen, +or in the wood-shed, or in the yard, she'd answer: "What is it, +darlin'?" Then the Old Man 'ud say: "Tum here, mudder, I wanter tell you +sumfin'." Never could find out what the Old Man wanted to tell Lizzie; +like 's not he didn't wanter tell her nothin'; may be he wuz lonesome +'nd jest wanted to feel that Lizzie wuz round. But that didn't make no +diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or +what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to +tell her somethin' she dropped ever'thing else 'nd went straight to him. +Then the Old Man would laff one of his sollum, sad-like laffs, 'nd put +his arms round Lizzie's neck 'nd whisper—or pertend to +whisper—somethin' in her ear, 'nd Lizzie would laff 'nd say, "Oh, what +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>a nice secret we have atween us!" and then she would kiss the Old Man +'nd go back to her work.</p> + +<p>Time changes all things,—all things but memory, nothin' can change +<i>that</i>. Seems like it wuz only yesterday or the day before that I heern +the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter tell you sumfin'," and +that I seen him put his arms around her neck 'nd whisper softly to her.</p> + +<p>It had been an open winter, 'nd there wuz fever all around us. The +Baxters lost their little girl, and Homer Thompson's children had all +been taken down. Ev'ry night 'nd mornin' we prayed God to save our +darlin'; but one evenin' when I come up from the wood lot, the Old Man +wuz restless 'nd his face wuz hot 'nd he talked in his sleep. May be +you've been through it yourself,—may be you've tended a child that's +down with the fever; if so, may be you know what we went through, Lizzie +'nd me. The doctor shook his head one night when he come to see the Old +Man; we knew what that meant. I went out-doors,—I couldn't stand it in +the room there, with the Old Man seein' 'nd talkin' about things that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>the fever made him see. I wuz too big a coward to stay 'nd help his +mother to bear up; so I went out-doors 'nd brung in wood,—brung in wood +enough to last all spring,—and then I sat down alone by the kitchen +fire 'nd heard the clock tick 'nd watched the shadders flicker through +the room.</p> + +<p>I remember Lizzie's comin' to me and sayin': "He's breathin' +strange-like, 'nd has little feet is cold as ice." Then I went into the +front chamber where he lay. The day wuz breakin'; the cattle wuz lowin' +outside; a beam of light come through the winder and fell on the Old +Man's face,—perhaps it wuz the summons for which he waited and which +shall some time come to me 'nd you. Leastwise the Old Man roused from +his sleep 'nd opened up his big blue eyes. It wuzn't me he wanted to +see.</p> + +<p>"Mudder! mudder!" cried the Old Man, but his voice warn't strong 'nd +clear like it used to be. "Mudder, where <i>be</i> you, mudder?"</p> + +<p>Then, breshin' by me, Lizzie caught the Old Man up 'nd held him in her +arms, like she had done a thousand times before.</p> + +<p>"What is it, darlin'? <i>Here</i> I be," says Lizzie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tum here," says the Old Man,—"tum here; I wanter tell you sumfin'."</p> + +<p>The Old Man went to reach his arms around her neck 'nd whisper in her +ear. But his arms fell limp and helpless-like, 'nd the Old Man's curly +head drooped on his mother's breast.</p> + +<p>1889.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> +<img src="images/230.png" width="428" height="245" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> +<h2>BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR.</h2> + + +<p>Bill wuz alluz fond uv children 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Aint it kind o' +curious how sometimes we find a great, big, awkward man who loves sech +things? Bill had the biggest feet in the township, but I'll bet my +wallet that he never trod on a violet in all his life. Bill never took +no slack from enny man that wuz sober, but the children made him play +with 'em, and he'd set for hours a-watchin' the yaller-hammer buildin' +her nest in the old cottonwood.</p> + +<p>Now I aint defendin' Bill; I'm jest tellin' the truth about him. Nothink +I kin say one way or t'other is goin' to make enny difference now; +Bill's dead 'nd buried, 'nd the folks is discussin' him 'nd wond'rin' +whether his immortal soul is all right. Sometimes I <i>hev</i> worried 'bout +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Bill, but I don't worry 'bout him no more. Uv course Bill had his +faults,—I never liked that drinkin' business uv his'n, yet I allow that +Bill got more good out'n likker, and likker got more good out'n Bill, +than I ever see before or sence. It warn't when the likker wuz in Bill +that Bill wuz at his best, but when he hed been on to one uv his bats +'nd had drunk himself sick 'nd wuz comin' out uv the other end of the +bat, then Bill wuz one uv the meekest 'nd properest critters you ever +seen. An' potry? Some uv the most beautiful potry I ever read wuz writ +by Bill when he wuz recoverin' himself out'n one uv them bats. Seemed +like it kind uv exalted an' purified Bill's nachur to git drunk an' git +over it. Bill cud drink more likker 'nd be sorrier for it than any other +man in seven States. There never wuz a more penitent feller than he wuz +when he wuz soberin'. The trubble with Bill seemed to be that his +conscience didn't come on watch quite of'n enuff.</p> + +<p>It'll be ten years come nex' spring sence Bill showed up here. I don't +know whar he come from; seemed like he didn't want to talk about his +past. I allers suspicioned that he had seen trubble—maybe, sorrer. I +reecollect that one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> time he got a telegraph,—Mr. Ivins told me 'bout +it afterwards,—and when he read it he put his hands up to his face 'nd +groaned, like. That day he got full uv likker 'nd he kep' full of likker +for a week; but when he come round all right he wrote a pome for the +paper, 'nd the name of the pome wuz "Mary," but whether Mary wuz his +sister or his wife or an old sweetheart uv his'n I never knew. But it +looked from the pome like she wuz dead 'nd that he loved her.</p> + +<p>Bill wuz the best lokil the paper ever had. He didn't hustle around +much, but he had a kind er pleasin' way uv dishin' things up. He cud be +mighty comical when he sot out to be, but his best holt was serious +pieces. Nobody could beat Bill writin' obituaries. When old Mose +Holbrook wuz dyin' the minister sez to him: "Mr. Holbrook, you seem to +be sorry that you're passin' away to a better land?"</p> + +<p>"Wall, no; not exactly <i>that</i>," sez Mose, "but to be frank with you, I +<i>hev</i> jest one regret in connection with this affair."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked the minister.</p> + +<p>"I can't help feelin' sorry," sez Mose, "that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> I aint goin' to hev the +pleasure uv readin' what Bill Newton sez about me in the paper. I know +it'll be sumthin' uncommon fine; I loant him two dollars a year ago last +fall."</p> + +<p>The Higginses lost a darned good friend when Bill died. Bill wrote a +pome 'bout their old dog Towze when he wuz run over by Watkins's hay +wagon seven years ago. I'll bet that pome is in every scrap-book in the +county. You couldn't read that pome without cryin',—why, that pome wud +hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary. Old Tim Hubbard, the +meanest man in the State, borrered a paper to read the pome, and he wuz +so 'fected by it that he never borrered anuther paper as long as he +lived. I don't more'n half reckon, though, that the Higginses +appreciated what Bill had done for 'em. I never heerd uv their givin' +him anythink more'n a basket uv greenin' apples, and Bill wrote a piece +'bout the apples nex' day.</p> + +<p>But Bill wuz at his best when he wrote things about the children,—about +the little ones that died, I mean. Seemed like Bill had a way of his own +of sayin' things that wuz beautiful 'nd tender; he said he loved the +children because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> they wuz innocent, and I reckon—yes, I know he did, +for the pomes he writ about 'em showed he did.</p> + +<p>When our little Alice died I started out for Mr. Miller's; he wuz the +undertaker. The night wuz powerful dark, 'nd it wuz all the darker to +me, because seemed like all the light hed gone out in my life. Down near +the bridge I met Bill; he weaved round in the road, for he wuz in +likker.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Mr. Baker," sez he, "whar be you goin' this time o' night?"</p> + +<p>"Bill," sez I, "I'm goin' on the saddest errand uv my life."</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" sez he, comin' up to me as straight as he cud.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bill," sez I, "our little girl—my little girl—Allie, you +know—she's dead."</p> + +<p>I hoarsed up so I couldn't say much more. And Bill didn't say nothink at +all; he jest reached me his hand, and he took my hand and seemed like in +that grasp his heart spoke many words of comfort to mine. And nex' day +he had a piece in the paper about our little girl; we cut it out and put +it in the big Bible in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> front room. Sometimes when we get to +fussin', Martha goes 'nd gets that bit of paper 'nd reads it to me; then +us two kind uv cry to ourselves, 'nd we make it up between us for the +dead child's sake.</p> + +<p>Well, you kin see how it wuz that so many uv us liked Bill; he had +soothed our hearts,—there's nothin' like sympathy after all. Bill's +potry hed heart in it; it didn't surprise you or scare you; it jest got +down in under your vest, 'nd before you knew it you wuz all choked up. I +know all about your fashionable potry and your famous potes,—Martha +took Godey's for a year. Folks that live in the city can't write +potry,—not the real, genuine article. To write potry, as I figure it, +the heart must have somethin' to feed on; you can't get that somethin' +whar there aint trees 'nd grass 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Bill loved these +things, and he fed his heart on 'em, and that's why his potry wuz so +much better than anybody else's.</p> + +<p>I aint worryin' much about Bill now; I take it that everythink is for +the best. When they told me that Bill died in a drunken fit I felt that +his end oughter have come some other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> way,—he wuz too good a man for +that. But maybe, after all, it was ordered for the best. Jist imagine +Bill a-standin' up for jedgment; jist imagine that poor, sorrowful, +shiverin' critter waitin' for his turn to come. Pictur', if you can, how +full uv penitence he is, 'nd how full uv potry 'nd gentleness 'nd +misery. The Lord aint a-goin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of +course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of +compassion,—a compassion infinitely tenderer and sweeter than ours. And +the more I think on 't, the more I reckon that Bill will plead to win +that mercy, for, like as not, the little ones—my Allie with the +rest—will run to him when they see him in his trubble and will hold his +tremblin' hands 'nd twine their arms about him, and plead, with him, for +compassion.</p> + +<p>You've seen an old sycamore that the lightnin' has struck; the ivy has +reached up its vines 'nd spread 'em all around it 'nd over it, coverin' +its scars 'nd splintered branches with a velvet green 'nd fillin' the +air with fragrance. You've seen this thing and you know that it is +beautiful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>That's Bill, perhaps, as he stands up f'r jedgment,—a miserable, +tremblin', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with +singin' and pleadin' little children—and that is pleasin' in God's +sight, I know.</p> + +<p>What would you—what would <i>I</i>—say, if we wuz setin' in jedgment then?</p> + +<p>Why, we'd jest kind uv bresh the moisture from our eyes 'nd say: "Mister +recordin' angel, you may nolly pros this case 'nd perseed with the +docket."</p> + + +<p>1888.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 418px;"> +<img src="images/240.png" width="418" height="247" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE LITTLE YALLER BABY.</h2> + + +<p>I hev allus hed a good opinion uv the wimmin folks. I don't look at 'em +as some people do; uv course they're a necessity—just as men are. Uv +course if there warn't no wimmin folks there wouldn't be no men +folks—leastwise that's what the medikil books say. But I never wuz much +on discussin' humin economy; what I hev allus thought 'nd said wuz that +wimmin folks wuz a kind uv luxury, 'nd the best kind, too. Maybe it's +because I haint hed much to do with 'em that I'm sot on 'em. Never did +get real well acquainted with more 'n three or four uv 'em in all my +life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn't hev 'em round me as most +men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an' Ant Mary raised me +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>till I wuz big enuff to make my own livin'. Down here in the Southwest, +you see, most uv the girls is boys; there aint none uv them civilizin' +influences folks talk uv,—nothin' but flowers 'nd birds 'nd such things +as poetry tells about. So I kind uv growed up with the curis notion that +wimmin folks wuz too good for our part uv the country, 'nd I hevn't +quite got that notion out'n my head yet.</p> + +<p>One time—wall, I reckon 't wuz about four years ago—I got a letter +frum ol' Col. Sibley to come up to Saint Louey 'nd consult with him +'bout some stock int'rests we hed together. Railroad travellin' wuz no +new thing to me. I hed been prutty posperous,—hed got past hevin' to +ride in a caboose 'nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed +money in the Hoost'n bank 'nd use to go to Tchicargo oncet a year; hed +met Fill Armer 'nd shook hands with him, 'nd oncet the city papers hed a +colume article about my bein' a millionnaire; uv course 't warn't so, +but a feller kind uv likes that sort uv thing, you know.</p> + +<p>The mornin' after I got that letter from Col. Sibley I started for Saint +Louey. I took a bunk in the Pullman car, like I hed been doin' for six +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>years past; 'nd I reckon the other folks must hev thought I wuz a heap +uv a man, for every haff-hour I give the nigger haf a dollar to bresh me +off. The car wuz full uv people,—rich people, too, I reckon, for they +wore good clo'es 'nd criticised the scenery. Jest across frum me there +wuz a lady with a big, fat baby,—the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a +month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn't +payin' money to the nigger, darned if I didn't set there watchin' the +big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I aint much +of a hand at babies, 'cause I haint seen many uv 'em, 'nd when it comes +to handlin' 'em—why, that would break me all up, 'nd like 's not 't +would break the baby all up too. But it has allus been my notion that +nex' to the wimmin folks babies wuz jest about the nicest things on +earth. So the more I looked at that big, fat little baby settin' in its +mother's lap 'cross the way, the more I wanted to look; seemed like I +wuz hoodooed by the little tyke; 'nd the first thing I knew there wuz +water in my eyes; don't know why it is, but it allus makes me kind ur +slop over to set 'nd watch a baby cooin' 'nd playin' in its mother's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>lap.</p> + +<p>"Look a' hyar, Sam," says I to the nigger, "come hyar 'nd bresh me off +agin! Why aint you tendin' to bizniss?"</p> + +<p>But it didn't do no good 't all; pertendin' to be cross with the nigger +might fool the other folks in the car, but it didn't fool me. I wuz dead +stuck on that baby—gol durn his pictur'! And there the little tyke set +in its mother's lap, doublin' up its fists 'nd tryin' to swaller 'em, +'nd talkin' like to its mother in a lingo I couldn't understan', but +which the mother could, for she talked back to the baby in a soothin' +lingo which I couldn't understand but which I liked to hear, 'nd she +kissed the baby 'nd stroked its hair 'nd petted it like wimmin do.</p> + +<p>It made me mad to hear them other folks in the car criticisn' the +scenery 'nd things. A man's in mighty poor bizness, anyhow, to be +lookin' at scenery when there's a woman in sight,—a woman <i>and</i> a baby!</p> + +<p>Prutty soon—oh, maybe in a hour or two—the baby began to fret 'nd +worrit. Seemed to me like the little critter wuz hungry. Knowin' that +there wuzn't no eatin'-house this side uv Bowieville, I jest called the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>train boy, 'nd says I to him: "Hev you got any victuals that will do +for a baby?"</p> + +<p>"How is oranges 'nd bananas?" says he.</p> + +<p>"That ought to do," sez I. "Jist do up a dozen uv your best oranges 'nd +a dozen uv your best bananas 'nd take 'em over to that baby with my +complerments."</p> + +<p>But before he could do it, the lady hed laid the baby on one uv her arms +'nd hed spread a shawl over its head 'nd over her shoulder, 'nd all uv a +suddin' the baby quit worritin' and seemed like he hed gone to sleep.</p> + +<p>When we got to York Crossin' I looked out'n the winder 'nd seen some men +carryin' a long pine box up towards the baggage car. Seein' their hats +off, I knew there wuz a dead body in the box, 'nd I couldn't help +feelin' sorry for the poor creetur that hed died in that lonely place uv +York Crossin'; but I mought hev felt a heap sorrier for the creeters +that hed to live there, for I'll allow that York Crossin' is a <i>leetle</i> +the durnedest lonesomest place I ever seen.</p> + +<p>Well, just afore the train started agin, who should come into the car +but Bill Woodson, and he wuz lookin' powerful tough. Bill herded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> cattle +for me three winters, but hed moved away when he married one uv the +waiter girls at Spooner's hotel at Hoost'n.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Bill," says I; "what air you totin' so kind uv keerful-like in +your arms there?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I've got the baby," says he; 'nd as he said it the tears come up +into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Your own baby, Bill?" says I.</p> + +<p>"Yes," says he. "Nellie took sick uv the janders a fortnight ago, +'nd—'nd she died, 'nd I'm takin' her body up to Texarkany to bury. She +lived there, you know, 'nd I'm goin' to leave the baby there with its +gran'ma."</p> + +<p>Poor Bill! it wuz his wife that the men were carryin' in that pine box +to the baggage car.</p> + +<p>"Likely lookin' baby, Bill," says I, cheerful like. "Perfect pictur' uv +its mother; kind uv favors you round the lower part uv the face, tho'."</p> + +<p>I said this to make Bill feel happier. If I'd told the truth, I'd 've +said the baby wuz a sickly, yaller-lookin' little thing, for so it wuz; +looked haff-starved, too. Couldn't help comparin' it with that big, fat +baby in its mother's arms over the way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bill," says I, "here's a ten-dollar note for the baby, 'nd God bless +you!"</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, Mr. Goodhue," says he, 'nd he choked all up as he moved off +with that yaller little baby in his arms. It warn't very fur up the road +he wuz goin', 'nd he found a seat in one uv the front cars.</p> + +<p>But along about an hour after that back come Bill, moseyin' through the +car like he wuz huntin' for somebody. Seemed like he wuz in trubble and +wuz huntin' for a friend.</p> + +<p>"Anything I kin do for you, Bill?" says I, but he didn't make no answer. +All of a suddint he sot his eyes on the prutty lady that had the fat +baby sleepin' in her arms, 'nd he made a break for her like he wuz +crazy. He took off his hat 'nd bent down over her 'nd said somethin' +none uv the rest uv us could hear. The lady kind uv started like she wuz +frightened, 'nd then she looked up at Bill 'nd looked him right square +in the countenance. She saw a tall, ganglin', awkward man, with long +yaller hair 'nd frowzy beard, 'nd she saw that he wuz tremblin' 'nd hed +tears in his eyes. She looked down at the fat baby in her arms, 'nd then +she looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> out'n the winder at the great stretch uv prairie land, 'nd +seemed like she wuz lookin' off further'n the rest uv us could see. +Then, at last, she turnt around 'nd said, "Yes," to Bill, 'nd Bill went +off into the front car ag'in.</p> + +<p>None uv the rest uv us knew what all this meant, but in a minnit Bill +come back with his little yaller baby in his arms, 'nd you never heerd a +baby squall 'nd carry on like that baby wuz squallin' 'nd carryin' on. +Fact is, the little yaller baby was hungry, hungrier'n a wolf, 'nd there +wuz its mother dead in the car up ahead 'nd its gran'ma a good piece up +the road. What did the lady over the way do but lay her own sleepin' +baby down on the seat beside her 'nd take Bill's little yaller baby 'nd +hold it on one arm 'nd cover up its head 'nd her shoulder with a shawl, +jist like she had done with the fat baby not long afore. Bill never +looked at her; he took off his hat and held it in his hand, 'nd turnt +around 'nd stood guard over that mother, 'nd I reckon that ef any man +hed darst to look that way jist then Bill would've cut his heart out.</p> + +<p>The little yaller baby didn't cry very long.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> Seemed like it knowed +there wuz a mother holdin' it,—not its own mother, but a woman whose +life hed been hallowed by God's blessin' with the love 'nd the purity +'nd the sanctity uv motherhood.</p> + +<p>Why, I wouldn't hev swapped that sight uv Bill an' them two babies 'nd +that sweet woman for all the cattle in Texas! It jest made me know that +what I'd allus thought uv wimmin was gospel truth. God bless that lady! +I say, wherever she is to-day, 'nd God bless all wimmin folks, for +they're all alike in their unselfishness 'nd gentleness 'nd love!</p> + +<p>Bill said, "God bless ye!" too, when she handed him back his poor little +yaller baby. The little creeter wuz fast asleep, 'nd Bill darsent speak +very loud for fear he'd wake it up. But his heart wuz way up in his +mouth when he says "God bless ye!" to that dear lady; 'nd then he added, +like he wanted to let her know that he meant to pay her back when he +could: "I'll do the same for you some time, marm, if I kin."</p> + +<p>1888.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/252.png" width="300" height="254" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CYCLOPEEDY.</h2> + + +<p>Havin' lived next door to the Hobart place f'r goin' on thirty years, I +calc'late that I know jest about ez much about the case ez anybody else +now on airth, exceptin' perhaps it's ol' Jedge Baker, and he's so +plaguey old 'nd so powerful feeble that <i>he</i> don't know nothin'.</p> + +<p>It seems that in the spring uv '47—the year that Cy Watson's oldest boy +wuz drownded in West River—there come along a book agent sellin' +volyumes 'nd tracks f'r the diffusion uv knowledge, 'nd havin' got the +recommend of the minister 'nd uv the select men, he done an all-fired +big business in our part uv the county. His name wuz Lemuel Higgins, 'nd +he wuz ez likely a talker ez I ever heerd, barrin' Lawyer Conkey, 'nd +everybody allowed that when Conkey wuz round he talked so fast that the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>town pump ud have to be greased every twenty minutes.</p> + +<p>One of the first uv our folks that this Lemuel Higgins struck wuz +Leander Hobart. Leander had jest marr'd one uv the Peasley girls, 'nd +had moved into the old homestead on the Plainville road,—old Deacon +Hobart havin' give up the place to him, the other boys havin' moved out +West (like a lot o' darned fools that they wuz!). Leander wuz feelin' +his oats jest about this time, 'nd nuthin' wuz too good f'r him.</p> + +<p>"Hattie," sez he, "I guess I'll have to lay in a few books f'r readin' +in the winter time, 'nd I've half a notion to subscribe f'r a +cyclopeedy. Mr. Higgins here says they're invalerable in a family, and +that we orter have 'em, bein' as how we're likely to have the fam'ly +bime by."</p> + +<p>"Lor's sakes, Leander, how you talk!" sez Hattie, blushin' all over, ez +brides allers does to heern tell uv sich things.</p> + +<p>Waal, to make a long story short, Leander bargained with Mr. Higgins for +a set uv them cyclopeedies, 'nd he signed his name to a long printed +paper that showed how he agreed to take a cyclopeedy oncet in so often, +which wuz to be ez often ez a new one uv the volyumes wuz printed. A +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>cyclopeedy isn't printed all at oncet,because that would make it cost +too much; consekently the man that gets it up has it strung along fur +apart, so as to hit folks oncet every year or two, and gin'rally about +harvest time. So Leander kind uv liked the idee, and he signed the +printed paper 'nd made his affidavit to it afore Jedge Warner.</p> + +<p>The fust volyume of the cyclopeedy stood on a shelf in the old +seckertary in the settin'-room about four months before they had any use +f'r it. One night 'Squire Turner's son come over to visit Leander 'nd +Hattie, and they got to talkin' about apples, 'nd the sort uv apples +that wuz the best. Leander allowed that the Rhode Island greenin' wuz +the best, but Hattie and the Turner boy stuck up f'r the Roxbury russet, +until at last a happy idee struck Leander, and sez he: "We'll leave it +to the cyclopeedy, b'gosh! Whichever one the cyclopeedy sez is the best +will settle it."</p> + +<p>"But you can't find out nothin' 'bout Roxbury russets nor Rhode Island +greenin's in <i>our</i> cyclopeedy," sez Hattie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"Why not, I'd like to know?" sez Leander, kind uv indignant like.</p> + +<p>"'Cause ours haint got down to the R yet," sez Hattie. "All ours tells +about is things beginnin' with A."</p> + +<p>"Well, aint we talkin' about Apples?" sez Leander. "You aggervate me +terrible, Hattie, by insistin' on knowin' what you don't know nothin' +'bout."</p> + +<p>Leander went to the seckertary 'nd took down the cyclopeedy 'nd hunted +all through it f'r Apples, but all he could find wuz "Apple—See +Pomology."</p> + +<p>"How in thunder kin I see Pomology," sez Leander, "when there aint no +Pomology to see? Gol durn a cyclopeedy, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>And he put the volyume back onto the shelf 'nd never sot eyes into it +agin.</p> + +<p>That's the way the thing run f'r years 'nd years. Leander would've gin +up the plaguey bargain, but he couldn't; he had signed a printed paper +'nd had swore to it afore a justice of the peace. Higgins would have had +the law on him if he had throwed up the trade.</p> + +<p>The most aggervatin' feature uv it all wuz that a new one uv them cussid +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>cyclopeedies wuz allus sure to show up at the wrong time,—when Leander +wuz hard up or had jest been afflicted some way or other. His barn burnt +down two nights afore the volyume containin' the letter B arrived, and +Leander needed all his chink to pay f'r lumber, but Higgins sot back on +that affidavit and defied the life out uv him.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Leander," sez his wife, soothin' like, "it's a good book to +have in the house, anyhow, now that we've got a baby."</p> + +<p>"That's so," sez Leander, "babies does begin with B, don't it?"</p> + +<p>You see their fust baby had been born; they named him Peasley,—Peasley +Hobart,—after Hattie's folks. So, seein' as how it wuz payin' f'r a +book that told about babies, Leander didn't begredge that five dollars +so very much after all.</p> + +<p>"Leander," sez Hattie one forenoon, "that B cyclopeedy aint no account. +There aint nothin' in it about babies except 'See Maternity'!"</p> + +<p>"Waal, I'll be gosh durned!" sez Leander. That wuz all he said, and he +couldn't do nothin' at all, f'r that book agent, Lemuel Higgins, had the +dead wood on him,—the mean, sneakin' critter!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>So the years passed on, one of them cyclopeedies showin' up now 'nd +then,—sometimes every two years 'nd sometimes every four, but allus at +a time when Leander found it pesky hard to give up a fiver. It warn't no +use cussin' Higgins; Higgins just laffed when Leander allowed that the +cyclopeedy wuz no good 'nd that he wuz bein' robbed. Meantime Leander's +family wuz increasin' and growin'. Little Sarey had the hoopin' cough +dreadful one winter, but the cyclopeedy didn't help out at all, 'cause +all it said wuz: "Hoopin' Cough—See Whoopin' Cough"—and uv course, +there warn't no Whoopin' Cough to see, bein' as how the W hadn't come +yet!</p> + +<p>Oncet when Hiram wanted to dreen the home pasture, he went to the +cyclopeedy to find out about it, but all he diskivered wuz: "Drain—See +Tile." This wuz in 1859, and the cyclopeedy had only got down to G.</p> + +<p>The cow wuz sick with lung fever one spell, and Leander laid her dyin' +to that cussid cyclopeedy, 'cause when he went to readin' 'bout cows it +told him to "See Zoölogy."</p> + +<p>But what's the use uv harrowin' up one's feelin's talkin' 'nd thinkin' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>about these things? Leander got so after a while that the cyclopeedy +didn't worry him at all: he grew to look at it ez one uv the crosses +that human critters has to bear without complainin' through this vale uv +tears. The only thing that bothered him wuz the fear that mebbe he +wouldn't live to see the last volume,—to tell the truth, this kind uv +got to be his hobby, and I've heern him talk 'bout it many a time +settin' round the stove at the tarvern 'nd squirtin' tobacco juice at +the sawdust box. His wife, Hattie, passed away with the yaller janders +the winter W come, and all that seemed to reconcile Leander to survivin' +her wuz the prospect uv seein' the last volyume uv that cyclopeedy. +Lemuel Higgins, the book agent, had gone to his everlastin' punishment; +but his son, Hiram, had succeeded to his father's business 'nd continued +to visit the folks his old man had roped in. By this time Leander's +children had growed up; all on 'em wuz marr'd, and there wuz numeris +grandchildren to amuse the ol' gentleman. But Leander wuzn't to be +satisfied with the common things uv airth; he didn't seem to take no +pleasure in his grandchildren like most men do; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>his mind wuz allers sot +on somethin' else,—for hours 'nd hours, yes, all day long, he'd set out +on the front stoop lookin' wistfully up the road for that book agent to +come along with a cyclopeedy. He didn't want to die till he'd got all +the cyclopeedies his contract called for; he wanted to have everything +straightened out before he passed away.</p> + +<p>When—oh, how well I recollect it—when Y come along he wuz so overcome +that he fell over in a fit uv paralysis, 'nd the old gentleman never got +over it. For the next three years he drooped 'nd pined, and seemed like +he couldn't hold out much longer. Finally he had to take to his bed,—he +was so old 'nd feeble,—but he made 'em move the bed up aginst the +winder so he could watch for that last volyume of the cyclopeedy.</p> + +<p>The end come one balmy day in the spring uv '87. His life wuz a-ebbin' +powerful fast; the minister wuz there, 'nd me, 'nd Dock Wilson, 'nd +Jedge Baker, 'nd most uv the fam'ly. Lovin' hands smoothed the wrinkled +forehead 'nd breshed back the long, scant, white hair, but the eyes of +the dyin' man wuz sot upon that piece uv road down which the cyclopeedy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>man allus come.</p> + +<p>All to oncet a bright 'nd joyful look come into them eyes, 'nd ol' +Leander riz up in bed 'nd sez, "It's come!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Father?" asked his daughter Sarey, sobbin' like.</p> + +<p>"Hush," sez the minister, solemnly; "he sees the shinin' gates uv the +Noo Jerusalum."</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried the aged man; "it is the cyclopeedy—the letter Z—it's +comin'!"</p> + +<p>And, sure enough! the door opened, and in walked Higgins. He tottered +rather than walked, f'r he had growed old 'nd feeble in his wicked +perfession.</p> + +<p>"Here's the Z cyclopeedy, Mr. Hobart," says Higgins.</p> + +<p>Leander clutched it; he hugged it to his pantin' bosom; then stealin' +one pale hand under the piller he drew out a faded bank-note 'nd gave it +to Higgins.</p> + +<p>"I thank Thee for this boon," sez Leander, rollin' his eyes up devoutly; +then he gave a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," cried Higgins, excitedly, "you've made a mistake—it isn't +the last—"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p><p>But Leander didn't hear him—his soul hed fled from its mortal tenement +'nd hed soared rejoicin' to realms uv everlastin' bliss.</p> + +<p>"He is no more," sez Dock Wilson, metaphorically.</p> + +<p>"Then who are his heirs?" asked that mean critter Higgins.</p> + +<p>"We be," sez the family.</p> + +<p>"Do you conjointly and severally acknowledge and assume the obligation +of deceased to me?" he asked 'em.</p> + +<p>"What obligation?" asked Peasley Hobart, stern like.</p> + +<p>"Deceased died owin' me f'r a cyclopeedy!" sez Higgins.</p> + +<p>"That's a lie!" sez Peasley. "We all seen him pay you for the Z!"</p> + +<p>"But there's another one to come," sez Higgins.</p> + +<p>"Another?" they all asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the index!" sez he.</p> + +<p>So there wuz, and I'll be eternally goll durned if he aint a-suin' the +estate in the probate court now f'r the price uv it!</p> + + +<p>1889.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 336px;"> +<img src="images/264.png" width="336" height="280" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> +<h2>DOCK STEBBINS.</h2> + + +<p>Most everybody liked Dock Stebbins, fur all he wuz the durnedest critter +that ever lived to play jokes on folks! Seems like he wuz born jokin' +'nd kep' it up all his life. Ol' Mrs. Stebbins used to tell how when the +Dock wuz a baby he use to wake her up haff a dozen times un a night +cryin' like he wuz hungry, 'nd when she turnt over in bed to him he wud +laff 'nd coo like he wuz sayin', "No, thank ye—I wuz only foolin'!"</p> + +<p>His mother allus thought a heap uv the Dock, 'nd she allus put up with +his jokes 'nd things without grumblin'; said it warn't his fault that he +wuz so full uv tricks 'nd funny business; kind uv took the +responsibility uv it onto herself, because, as she allowed, she'd been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>to a circus jest afore he wuz born.</p> + +<p>Nothin' tickled the Dock more 'n to worry folks,—not in a mean way, but +jest to sort uv bother 'em. Use to hang round the post-office 'nd +pertend to have fits,—sakes alive! but how that scared the women folks. +One day who should come along but ol' Sue Perkins; Sue wuz suspicioned +of takin' a nip uv likker on the quiet now 'nd then, but nobody had ever +ketched her at it. Wall, the Dock he had one uv his fits jest as Sue +hove in sight, 'nd Lem Thompson (who stood in with Dock in all his +deviltry) leant over Dock while he wuz wallerin' 'nd pertending to foam +at the mouth, and Lem cried out: "Nothink will fetch him out'n this turn +but a drink uv brandy." Sue, who wuz as kind-hearted a old maid as ever +superntended a strawberry festival, whipped a bottle out'n her bag 'nd +says: "Here you be, Lem, but don't let him swaller the bottle." Folks +bothered Sue a heap 'bout this joke till she moved down into Texas to +teach school.</p> + +<p>Dock had a piece uv wood 'bout two inches long,—maybe three: it wuz +black 'nd stubby 'nd looked jest like the butt uv a cigar. Nobody but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>Dock wud ever hev thought uv sech a fool thing, but Dock use to go +round with that thing in his mouth like it wuz a cigar, and when he'd +meet a man who wuz smokin' he'd say: "Excuse me, but will you please to +gimme a light?" Then the man wud hand over his cigar, and Dock wud +plough that wood stub uv his'n around in the lighted cigar and would +pertend to puff away till he had put the real cigar out, 'nd then Dock +wud hand the cigar back, sayin', kind uv regretful like: "You don't seem +to have much uv a light there; I reckon I'll wait till I kin git a +match." You kin imagine how that other feller's cigar tasted when he +lighted it agin. Dock tried it on me oncet, 'nd when I lighted up agin +seemed like I wuz smokin' a piece uv rope or a liver pad.</p> + +<p>One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson went over to Peory on the railroad, 'nd +while they wuz settin' in the car in come two wimmin 'nd set in the seat +ahead uv 'em. All uv a suddint Dock nudged Lem and sez, jest loud enuff +fur the wimmin to hear: "I didn't git round till after it wuz over, but +I never see sech a sight as that baby's ear wuz."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p><p>Lem wuz onto Dock's methods, 'nd he knew there wuz sumthin' ahead. So +he says: "Tough-lookin' ear, wuz it?"</p> + +<p>"Wall, I should remark," says Dock. "You see it wuz like this: the +mother had gone out into the back yard to hang some clo'es onto the +line, 'nd she laid the baby down in the crib. Baby wan't more 'n six +weeks old,—helpless little critter as ever you seen. Wall, all to oncet +the mother heerd the baby cryin', but bein' busy with them clo'es she +didn't mind much. The baby kep' cryin' 'nd cryin', 'nd at last the +mother come back into the house, 'nd there she found a big rat gnawin' +at one uv the baby's ears,—had et it nearly off! There lay that +helpless little innocent, cryin' 'nd writhin', 'nd there sat that rat +with his long tail, nippin' 'nd chewin' at one uv them tiny coral +ears—oh, it wuz offul!"</p> + +<p>"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the mother!" says Lem, sad like.</p> + +<p>"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the <i>baby</i>," sez Dock. "How'd you like to +be lyin' helpless in a crib with a big rat gnawin' your ear?"</p> + +<p>Wall, all this conversation wuz fur from pleasant to those two wimmin in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>the front seat, fur wimmin love babies 'nd hate rats, you know. It wuz +nuts fur Dock 'nd Lem to see the two wimmin squirm, 'nd all the way to +Peory they didn't talk about nuthink but snakes 'nd spiders 'nd mice 'nd +caterpillers. When the train got to Peory a gentleman met the two wimmin +'nd sez to one uv 'em: "I'm feered the trip haint done you much good, +Lizzie," says he. "Sakes alive, John," says she, "it's a wonder we haint +dead, for we've been travellin' forty miles with a real live Beadle dime +novvell!"</p> + +<p>'Nuther trick Dock had wuz to walk 'long the street behind wimmin 'nd +tell about how his sister had jest lost one uv her diamond earrings +while out walkin'. Jest as soon as the wimmin heerd this they'd clap +their han's up to their ears to see if their earrings wuz all right. +Dock never laffed nor let on like he wuz jokin', but jest the same this +sort uv thing tickled him nearly to deth.</p> + +<p>Dock went up to Chicago with Jedge Craig oncet, 'nd when they come back +the jedge said he'd never had such an offul time in all his born days. +Said that Dock bought a fool Mother Goose book to read in the hoss-cars +jest to queer folks; would set in a hoss-car lookin' at the pic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>turs 'nd +readin' the verses 'nd laffin' like it wuz all new to him 'nd like he +wuz a child. Everybody sized him up for a ejeot, 'nd the wimmin folks +shook their heads 'nd said it wuz orful fur so fine a lookin' feller to +be such a tom fool. 'Nuther thing Dock did wuz to git hold uv a bad +quarter 'nd give it to a beggar, 'nd then foller the beggar into a +saloon 'nd git him arrested for tryin' to pass counterfit money. I +reckon that if Dock had stayed in Chicago a week he'd have had everybody +crazy.</p> + +<p>No, I don't know how he come to be a medikil man. He told me oncet that +when he found out that he wuzn't good for anythink he concluded he'd be +a doctor; but I reckon that wuz one uv his jokes. He didn't have much uv +a practice: he wuz too yumorous to suit most invalids 'nd sick folks. We +had him tend our boy Sam jest oncet when Sam wuz comin' down with the +measles. He looked at Sam's tongue 'nd felt his pulse 'nd said he'd +leave a pill for Sam to take afore goin' to bed.</p> + +<p>"How shell we administer the pill?" asked my wife.</p> + +<p>"Wall," says Dock, "the best way to do is to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> git the boy down on the +floor 'nd hold his mouth open 'nd gag him till he swallers the pill. +After the pill gits into his system it will explode in about ten minits, +'nd then the boy will feel better."</p> + +<p>This wuz cheerful news for the boy. No human power cud ha' got that pill +into Sam. We never solicited Dock's perfeshional services agin.</p> + +<p>One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson drove over to Knoxville to help Dock +Parsons cut a man's leg off. About four miles out uv town 'nd right in +the middle uv the hot peraroor they met Moses Baker's oldest boy +trudgin' along with a basket uf eggs. The Dock whoaed his hoss 'nd +called to the boy,—</p> + +<p>"Where be you goin' with them eggs?" says he.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to town to sell 'em," says the boy.</p> + +<p>"How much a dozen?" asked the Dock.</p> + +<p>"'Bout ten cents, I reckon," says the boy.</p> + +<p>"Putty likely-lookin' eggs," says the Dock; 'nd he handed the lines over +to Lem, 'nd got out'n the buggy.</p> + +<p>"How many hev you got?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ten dozen," says the boy.</p> + +<p>"Git out!" says Dock. "There haint no ten dozen eggs in that basket!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is," says the boy, "fur I counted 'em myself."</p> + +<p>The Dock allowed that he wuzn't goin' to take nobody's count on eggs; so +he got that fool boy to stan' there in the middle uv that hot peraroor, +claspin' his two hands together, while he, the Dock, counted them eggs +out'n the basket one by one into the boy's arms. Ten dozen eggs is a +heap; you kin imagine, maybe, how that boy looked with his arms full uv +eggs! When the Dock had got about nine dozen counted out he stopped all +uv a suddint 'nd said, "Wall, come to think on 't, I reckon I don't want +no eggs to-day, but I'm jest as much obleeged to you fur yer trouble." +And so he jumped back into the buggy 'nd drove off.</p> + +<p>Now, maybe that fool boy wuzn't in a peck uv trubble! There he stood in +the middle uv that hot—that all-fired hot—peraroor with his arms full +uv eggs. What wuz there fur him to do? He wuz afraid to move, lest he +should break them eggs; yet the longer he stood there the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> less chance +there wuz of the warm weather improvin' the eggs.</p> + +<p>Along in the summer of '78 the fever broke out down South, 'nd one day +Dock made up his mind that as bizness wuzn't none too good at home he'd +go down South 'nd see what he could do there. That wuz jest like one of +Dock's fool notions, we all said. But he went. In about six weeks along +come a telegraph sayin' that Dock wuz dead,—he'd died uv the fever. The +minister went up to the homestead 'nd broke the news gentle like to +Dock's mother; but, bless you! she didn't believe it—she wouldn't +believe it. She said it wuz one uv Dock's jokes; she didn't blame him, +nuther—it wuz <i>her</i> fault, she allowed, that Dock wuz allus that way +about makin' fun uv life 'nd death. No, sir; she never believed that +Dock wuz dead, but she allus talked like he might come in any minnit; +and there wuz allus his old place set fur him at the table 'nd nuthin' +was disturbed in his little room upstairs. And so five years slipped by +'nd no Dock come back, 'nd there wuz no tidin's uv him. Uv course, the +rest uv us knew; but his mother—oh, no, <i>she</i> never would believe it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last the old lady fell sick, and the doctor said she couldn't hold +out long, she wuz so old 'nd feeble. The minister who wuz there said +that she seemed to sleep from the evenin' of this life into the mornin' +uv the next. Jest afore the last she kind uv raised up in bed and cried +out like she saw sumthin' that she loved, and she held out her arms like +there wuz some one standin' in the doorway. Then they asked her what the +matter wuz, and she says, joyful like: "He's come back, and there he +stan's jest as he use ter: I knew he wuz only jokin'!"</p> + +<p>They looked, but they saw nuthin'; 'nd when they went to her she wuz +dead.</p> + +<p>1888.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/276.png" width="350" height="211" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FAIRIES OF PESTH.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + + +<p>An old poet walked alone in a quiet valley. His heart was heavy, and the +voices of Nature consoled him. His life had been a lonely and sad one. +Many years ago a great grief fell upon him, and it took away all his joy +and all his ambition. It was because he brooded over his sorrow, and +because he was always faithful to a memory, that the townspeople deemed +him a strange old poet; but they loved him and they loved his songs,—in +his life and in his songs there was a gentleness, a sweetness, a pathos +that touched every heart. "The strange, the dear old poet," they called +him.</p> + +<p>Evening was coming on. The birds made no noise; only the whip-poor-will +repeated over and over again its melancholy refrain in the marsh beyond +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>the meadow. The brook ran slowly, and its voice was so hushed and tiny +that you might have thought that it was saying its prayers before going +to bed.</p> + +<p>The old poet came to the three lindens. This was a spot he loved, it was +so far from the noise of the town. The grass under the lindens was fresh +and velvety. The air was full of fragrance, for here amid the grass grew +violets and daisies and buttercups and other modest wildflowers. Under +the lindens stood old Leeza, the witchwife.</p> + +<p>"Take this," said the poet to old Leeza, the witchwife; and he gave her +a silver-piece.</p> + +<p>"You are good to me, master poet," said the witchwife. "You have always +been good to me. I do not forget, master poet, I do not forget."</p> + +<p>"Why do you speak so strangely?" asked the old poet. "You mean more than +you say. Do not jest with me; my heart is heavy with sorrow."</p> + +<p>"I do not jest," answered the witchwife. "I will show you a strange +thing. Do as I bid you; tarry here under the lindens, and when the moon +rises, the Seven Crickets will chirp thrice; then the Raven will fly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>into the west, and you will see wonderful things, and beautiful things +you will hear."</p> + +<p>Saying this much, old Leeza, the witchwife, stole away, and the poet +marvelled at her words. He had heard the townspeople say that old Leeza +was full of dark thoughts and of evil deeds, but he did not heed these +stories.</p> + +<p>"They say the same of me, perhaps," he thought. "I will tarry here +beneath the three lindens and see what may come of this whereof the +witchwife spake."</p> + +<p>The old poet sat amid the grass at the foot of the three lindens, and +darkness fell around him. He could see the lights in the town away off; +they twinkled like the stars that studded the sky. The whip-poor-will +told his story over and over again in the marsh beyond the meadow, and +the brook tossed and talked in its sleep, for it had played too hard +that day.</p> + +<p>"The moon is rising," said the old poet. "Now we shall see."</p> + +<p>The moon peeped over the tops of the far-off hills. She wondered whether +the world was fast asleep. She peeped again. There could be no doubt; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>the world was fast asleep,—at least so thought the dear old moon. So +she stepped boldly up from behind the distant hills. The stars were glad +that she came, for she was indeed a merry old moon.</p> + +<p>The Seven Crickets lived in the hedge. They were brothers, and they made +famous music. When they saw the moon in the sky they sang "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, just as old Leeza, the +witchwife, said they would.</p> + +<p>"Whir-r-r!" It was the Raven flying out of the oak-tree into the west. +This, too, was what the old witchwife had foretold. "Whir-r-r" went the +two black wings, and then it seemed as if the Raven melted into the +night. Now, this was strange enough, but what followed was stranger +still.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the Raven flown away, when out from their habitations in the +moss, the flowers, and the grass trooped a legion of fairies,—yes, +right there before the old poet's eyes appeared, as if by magic, a +mighty troop of the dearest little fays in all the world.</p> + +<p>Each of these fairies was about the height of a cambric needle. The lady +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>fairies were, of course, not so tall as the gentleman fairies, but all +were of quite as comely figure as you could expect to find even among +real folk. They were quaintly dressed; the ladies wearing quilted silk +gowns and broad-brim hats with tiny feathers in them, and the gentlemen +wearing curious little knickerbockers, with silk coats, white hose, +ruffled shirts, and dainty cocked hats.</p> + +<p>"If the witchwife had not foretold it I should say that I dreamed," +thought the old poet. But he was not frightened. He had never harmed the +fairies, therefore he feared no evil from them.</p> + +<p>One of the fairies was taller than the rest, and she was much more +richly attired. It was not her crown alone that showed her to be the +queen. The others made obeisance to her as she passed through the midst +of them from her home in the bunch of red clover. Four dainty pages +preceded her, carrying a silver web which had been spun by a +black-and-yellow garden spider of great renown. This silver web the four +pages spread carefully over a violet leaf, and thereupon the queen sat +down. And when she was seated the queen sang this little song:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"From the land of murk and mist<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fairy folk are coming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the mead the dew has kissed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they dance where'er they list<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the cricket's thrumming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Circling here and circling there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light as thought and free as air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear them cry, 'Oho, oho,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they round the rosey go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Appleblossom, Summerdew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thistleblow, and Ganderfeather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Join the airy fairy crew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dancing on the sward together!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the cock on yonder steeple<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gives all faery lusty warning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing and dance, my little people,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dance and sing 'Oho' till morning!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The four little fairies the queen called to must have been loitering. +But now they came scampering up,—Ganderfeather behind the others, for +he was a very fat and presumably a very lazy little fairy.</p> + +<p>"The elves will be here presently," said the queen, "and then, little +folk, you shall dance to your heart's content. Dance your prettiest +to-night for the good old poet is watching you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, little queen," cried the old poet, "you see me, then? I thought to +watch your revels<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> unbeknown to you. But I meant you no +disrespect,—indeed, I meant you none, for surely no one ever loved the +little folk more than I."</p> + +<p>"We know you love us, good old poet," said the little fairy queen, "and +this night shall give you great joy and bring you into wondrous fame."</p> + +<p>These were words of which the old poet knew not the meaning; but we, who +live these many years after he has fallen asleep,—we know the meaning +of them.</p> + +<p>Then, surely enough, the elves came trooping along. They lived in the +further meadow, else they had come sooner. They were somewhat larger +than the fairies, yet they were very tiny and very delicate creatures. +The elf prince had long flaxen curls, and he was arrayed in a wonderful +suit of damask web, at the manufacture of which seventy-seven silkworms +had labored for seventy-seven days, receiving in payment therefor as +many mulberry leaves as seven blue beetles could carry and stow in seven +times seven sunny days. At his side the elf prince wore a sword made of +the sting of a yellow-jacket, and the hilt of this sword was studded +with the eyes of unhatched dragon-flies, these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> brighter and more +precious than the most costly diamonds.</p> + +<p>The elf prince sat beside the fairy queen. The other elves capered +around among the fairies. The dancing sward was very light, for a +thousand and ten glowworms came from the marsh and hung their beautiful +lamps over the spot where the little folk were assembled. If the moon +and the stars were jealous of that soft, mellow light, they had good +reason to be.</p> + +<p>The fairies and elves circled around in lively fashion. Their favorite +dance was the ring-round-a-rosy which many children nowadays dance. But +they had other measures, too, and they danced them very prettily.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said the old poet, "I wish that I had my violin here, for then +I would make merry music for you."</p> + +<p>The fairy queen laughed. "We have music of our own," she said, "and it +is much more beautiful than even you, dear old poet, could make."</p> + +<p>Then, at the queen's command, each gentleman elf offered his arm to a +lady fairy, and each gentleman fairy offered his arm to a lady elf, and +so, all being provided with partners, these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> little people took +their places for a waltz. The fairy queen and the elf prince were the +only ones that did not dance; they sat side by side on the violet leaf +and watched the others. The hoptoad was floor manager; the green burdock +badge on his breast showed that.</p> + +<p>"Mind where you go—don't jostle each other," cried the hoptoad, for he +was an exceedingly methodical fellow, despite his habit of jumping at +conclusions.</p> + +<p>Then, when all was ready, the Seven Crickets went "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, and away flew that host of +little fairies and little elves in the daintiest waltz imaginable:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/277.png" width="660" height="379" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The old poet was delighted. Never before had he seen such a sight; never +before had he heard so sweet music. Round and round whirled the sprite +dancers; the thousand and ten glowworms caught the rhythm of the music +that floated up to them, and they swung their lamps to and fro in time +with the fairy waltz. The plumes in the hats of the cunning little +ladies nodded hither and thither, and the tiny swords of the cunning +little gentlemen bobbed this way and that as the throng of dancers swept +now here, now there. With one tiny foot, upon which she wore a lovely +shoe made of a tanned flea's hide, the fairy queen beat time, yet she +heard every word which the gallant elf prince said. So, with the fairy +queen blushing, the mellow lamps swaying, the elf prince wooing, and the +throng of little folk dancing hither and thither, the fairy music went +on and on:—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/278.png" width="660" height="218" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/279a.png" width="660" height="332" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Tell me, my fairy queen," cried the old poet, "whence comes this fairy +music which I hear? The Seven Crickets in the hedge are still, the birds +sleep in their nests, the brook dreams of the mountain home it stole +away from yester morning. Tell me, therefore, whence comes this wondrous +fairy music, and show me the strange musicians that make it."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/279b.png" width="660" height="346" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/280.png" width="660" height="412" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Look to the grass and the flowers," said the fairy queen. "In every +blade and in every bud lie hidden notes of fairy music. Each violet and +daisy and buttercup,—every modest wild-flower (no matter how hidden) +gives glad response to the tinkle of fairy feet. Dancing daintily over +this quiet sward where flowers dot the green, my little people strike +here and there and everywhere the keys which give forth the harmonies +you hear."</p> + +<p>Long marvelled the old poet. He forgot his sorrow, for the fairy music +stole into his heart and soothed the wound there. The fairy host swept +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>round and round, and the fairy music went on and on.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/281.png" width="660" height="701" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Why may I not dance?" asked a piping voice. "Please, dear queen, may I +not dance, too?"</p> + +<p>It was the little hunchback that spake,—the little hunchback fairy who, +with wistful eyes, had been watching the merry throng whirl round and +round.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>"Dear child, thou canst not dance," said the fairy queen, tenderly; +"thy little limbs are weak. Come, sit thou at my feet, and let me smooth +thy fair curls and stroke thy pale cheeks."</p> + +<p>"Believe me, dear queen," persisted the little hunchback, "I can dance, +and quite prettily, too. Many a time while the others made merry here I +have stolen away by myself to the brookside and danced alone in the +moonlight,—alone with my shadow. The violets are thickest there. 'Let +thy halting feet fall upon us, Little Sorrowful,' they whispered, 'and +we shall make music for thee.' So there I danced, and the violets sang +their songs for me. I could hear the others making merry far away, but I +was merry, too; for I, too, danced, and there was none to laugh."</p> + +<p>"If you would like it, Little Sorrowful," said the elf prince, "I will +dance with you."</p> + +<p>"No, brave prince," answered the little hunchback, "for that would weary +you. My crutch is stout, and it has danced with me before. You will say +that we dance very prettily,—my crutch and I,—and you will not laugh, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>I know."</p> + +<p>Then the queen smiled sadly; she loved the little hunchback and she +pitied her.</p> + +<p>"It shall be as you wish," said the queen. The little hunchback was +overjoyed.</p> + +<p>"I have to catch the time, you see," said she, and she tapped her crutch +and swung one little shrunken foot till her body fell into the rhythm of +the waltz.</p> + +<p>Far daintier than the others did the little hunchback dance; now one +tiny foot and now the other tinkled on the flowers, and the point of the +little crutch fell here and there like a tear. And as she danced, there +crept into the fairy music a tenderer cadence, for (I know not why) the +little hunchback danced ever on the violets, and their responses were +full of the music of tears. There was a strange pathos in the little +creature's grace; she did not weary of the dance: her cheeks flushed, +and her eyes grew fuller, and there was a wondrous light in them. And as +the little hunchback danced, the others forgot her limp and felt only +the heart-cry in the little hunchback's merriment and in the music of +the voiceful violets.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/284.png" width="660" height="446" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Now all this saw the old poet, and all this wondrously beautiful music +he heard. And as he heard and saw these things, he thought of the pale +face, the weary eyes, and the tired little body that slept forever now. +He thought of the voice that had tried to be cheerful for his sake, of +the thin, patient little hands that had loved to do his bidding, of the +halting little feet that had hastened to his calling.</p> + +<p>"Is it thy spirit, O my love?" he wailed. "Is it thy spirit, O dear, +dead love?"</p> + +<p>A mist came before his eyes, and his heart gave a great cry.</p> + +<p>But the fairy dance went on and on. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> others swept to and fro and +round and round, but the little hunchback danced always on the violets, +and through the other music there could be plainly heard, as it crept in +and out, the mournful cadence of those tenderer flowers.</p> + +<p>And, with the music and the dancing, the night faded into morning. And +all at once the music ceased and the little folk could be seen no more. +The birds came from their nests, the brook began to bestir himself, and +the breath of the new-born day called upon all in that quiet valley to +awaken.</p> + +<p>So many years have passed since the old poet, sitting under the three +lindens half a league the other side of Pesth, saw the fairies dance and +heard the fairy music,—so many years have passed since then, that had +the old poet not left us an echo of that fairy waltz there would be none +now to believe the story I tell.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 660px;"> +<img src="images/285.png" width="660" height="116" alt="Bar Music" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Who knows but that this very night the elves and the fairies will dance +in the quiet valley;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> that Little Sorrowful will tinkle her maimed feet +upon the singing violets, and that the little folk will illustrate in +their revels, through which a tone of sadness steals, the comedy and +pathos of our lives? Perhaps no one shall see, perhaps no one else ever +did see, these fairy people dance their pretty dances; but we who have +heard old Robert Volkmann's waltz know full well that he at least saw +that strange sight and heard that wondrous music.</p> + +<p>And you will know so, too, when you have read this true story and heard +old Volkmann's claim to immortality.</p> + +<p>1887.</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> +<p><br /><br /></p> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The music arranged by Mr. Theodore Thomas.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<div class="tnote"> + +<h3>Transcriber's Note</h3> + +<p>Page 75 'frowardness' changed to 'forwardness'</p> + +<p>Page 219. 'her' changed to 'here'</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35440-h.htm or 35440-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/4/35440/ + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + + </body> +</html> + diff --git a/35440-h/images/001.jpg b/35440-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..379b22b --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/35440-h/images/002.png b/35440-h/images/002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6432204 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/002.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/003.png b/35440-h/images/003.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..277c92e --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/003.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/005.png b/35440-h/images/005.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dad0f20 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/005.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/010.png b/35440-h/images/010.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d31a265 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/010.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/022.png b/35440-h/images/022.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..383ba3f --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/022.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/038.png b/35440-h/images/038.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2721639 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/038.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/058.png b/35440-h/images/058.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..39c5b39 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/058.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/082.png b/35440-h/images/082.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c273b83 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/082.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/094.png b/35440-h/images/094.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb35bc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/094.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/102.png b/35440-h/images/102.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..73a715d --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/102.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/112.png b/35440-h/images/112.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7709ea4 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/112.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/122.png b/35440-h/images/122.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcb1d3c --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/122.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/142.png b/35440-h/images/142.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b2b700 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/142.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/154.png b/35440-h/images/154.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba7f528 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/154.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/162.png b/35440-h/images/162.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fab3d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/162.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/174.png b/35440-h/images/174.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8436c12 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/174.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/192.png b/35440-h/images/192.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a99c172 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/192.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/202.png b/35440-h/images/202.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be60301 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/202.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/220.png b/35440-h/images/220.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d383c11 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/220.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/230.png b/35440-h/images/230.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6d9187 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/230.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/240.png b/35440-h/images/240.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b276b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/240.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/252.png b/35440-h/images/252.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7b6db7 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/252.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/264.png b/35440-h/images/264.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe94835 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/264.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/276.png b/35440-h/images/276.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..179c48b --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/276.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/277.png b/35440-h/images/277.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..426a321 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/277.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/278.png b/35440-h/images/278.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c111494 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/278.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/279a.png b/35440-h/images/279a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff824da --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/279a.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/279b.png b/35440-h/images/279b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4a52c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/279b.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/280.png b/35440-h/images/280.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..30180f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/280.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/281.png b/35440-h/images/281.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b87cd6b --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/281.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/284.png b/35440-h/images/284.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..762cf03 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/284.png diff --git a/35440-h/images/285.png b/35440-h/images/285.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..84ab5da --- /dev/null +++ b/35440-h/images/285.png diff --git a/35440.txt b/35440.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9cd370 --- /dev/null +++ b/35440.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5200 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +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: A Little Book of Profitable Tales + +Author: Eugene Field + +Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35440] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: cover] + + + + A Little Book + + OF + + PROFITABLE TALES + + + + BY EUGENE FIELD. + + A Little Book of + PROFITABLE TALES. + + A Little Book of + WESTERN VERSE. + + Second + BOOK OF VERSE. + Each, 1 vol., 16mo, $1.25. + + + With Trumpet and Drum. + One vol., 16mo, $1.00. + + + + + A Little Book + + OF + + PROFITABLE TALES + + BY + + EUGENE FIELD + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1894 + + + _Copyright, 1889_ + BY EUGENE FIELD + + University Press: + JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. + + + + + TO + + MY SEVEREST CRITIC, MY MOST LOYAL ADMIRER, + AND MY ONLY DAUGHTER, + + MARY FRENCH FIELD, + + _THIS LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES_ + + IS + + Affectionately Dedicated. + + E. F. + + + + + The Tales in this Little Book. + + + PAGE + + THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE 3 + + THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT 15 + + THE COMING OF THE PRINCE 31 + + THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM 51 + + THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASSE 75 + + THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA 87 + + THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET 95 + + THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY 105 + + MARGARET: A PEARL 115 + + THE SPRINGTIME 135 + + RODOLPH AND HIS KING 147 + + THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS 155 + + EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST 167 + + LUDWIG AND ELOISE 185 + + FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND 195 + + THE OLD MAN 213 + + BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR 223 + + THE LITTLE YALLER BABY 233 + + THE CYCLOPEEDY 245 + + DOCK STEBBINS 257 + + THE FAIRIES OF PESTH 269 + + + + +The First Christmas Tree. + + + + +THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. + + +Once upon a time the forest was in a great commotion. Early in the +evening the wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously and +predicted strange things. They had lived in the forest many, many years; +but never had they seen such marvellous sights as were to be seen now in +the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village. + +"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little vine; "we who are not as +tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things. Describe them to +us, that we may enjoy them with you." + +"I am filled with such amazement," said one of the cedars, "that I can +hardly speak. The whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear to +be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from heaven to the earth, +and enter the village or talk with the shepherds upon the hills." + +The vine listened in mute astonishment. Such things never before had +happened. The vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a +tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever was noticed; yet it was a very +beautiful little tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and other +humble residents of the forest loved it dearly. + +"How I should like to see the angels!" sighed the little tree, "and how +I should like to see the stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very +beautiful." + +As the vine and the little tree talked of these things, the cedars +watched with increasing interest the wonderful scenes over and beyond +the confines of the forest. Presently they thought they heard music, and +they were not mistaken, for soon the whole air was full of the sweetest +harmonies ever heard upon earth. + +"What beautiful music!" cried the little tree. "I wonder whence it +comes." + +"The angels are singing," said a cedar; "for none but angels could make +such sweet music." + +"But the stars are singing, too," said another cedar; "yes, and the +shepherds on the hills join in the song, and what a strangely glorious +song it is!" + +The trees listened to the singing, but they did not understand its +meaning: it seemed to be an anthem, and it was of a Child that had been +born; but further than this they did not understand. The strange and +glorious song continued all the night; and all that night the angels +walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk talked with the angels, and the +stars danced and carolled in high heaven. And it was nearly morning when +the cedars cried out, "They are coming to the forest! the angels are +coming to the forest!" And, surely enough, this was true. The vine and +the little tree were very terrified, and they begged their older and +stronger neighbors to protect them from harm. But the cedars were too +busy with their own fears to pay any heed to the faint pleadings of the +humble vine and the little tree. The angels came into the forest, +singing the same glorious anthem about the Child, and the stars sang in +chorus with them, until every part of the woods rang with echoes of +that wondrous song. There was nothing in the appearance of this angel +host to inspire fear; they were clad all in white, and there were crowns +upon their fair heads, and golden harps in their hands; love, hope, +charity, compassion, and joy beamed from their beautiful faces, and +their presence seemed to fill the forest with a divine peace. The angels +came through the forest to where the little tree stood, and gathering +around it, they touched it with their hands, and kissed its little +branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And their song was +about the Child, the Child, the Child that had been born. Then the +stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon the branches of +the tree, and they, too, sang that song,--the song of the Child. And all +the other trees and the vines and the ferns and the mosses beheld in +wonder; nor could they understand why all these things were being done, +and why this exceeding honor should be shown the little tree. + +When the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel, +who remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar +asked: "Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?" And the angel answered: +"I stay to guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall +come to it." + +The little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up +its head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and +grew, and waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had +seen the like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the +little tree, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds +never came to the forest that they did not forget their rude manners and +linger to kiss the little tree and sing it their prettiest songs. No +danger ever menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel never +slept,--through the day and through the night the angel watched the +little tree and protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees talked +with the angel; but of course they understood little of what he said, +for he spoke always of the Child who was to become the Master; and +always when thus he talked, he caressed the little tree, and stroked its +branches and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. It all was so +very strange that none in the forest could understand. + +So the years passed, the angel watching his blooming charge. Sometimes +the beasts strayed toward the little tree and threatened to devour its +tender foliage; sometimes the woodman came with his axe, intent upon +hewing down the straight and comely thing; sometimes the hot, consuming +breath of drought swept from the south, and sought to blight the forest +and all its verdure: the angel kept them from the little tree. Serene +and beautiful it grew, until now it was no longer a little tree, but the +pride and glory of the forest. + +One day the tree heard some one coming through the forest. Hitherto the +angel had hastened to its side when men approached; but now the angel +strode away and stood under the cedars yonder. + +"Dear angel," cried the tree, "can you not hear the footsteps of some +one approaching? Why do you leave me?" + +"Have no fear," said the angel; "for He who comes is the Master." + +The Master came to the tree and beheld it. He placed His hands upon its +smooth trunk and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a strange and +glorious delight. Then He stooped and kissed the tree, and then He +turned and went away. + +Many times after that the Master came to the forest, and when He came it +always was to where the tree stood. Many times He rested beneath the +tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage, and listened to the music of +the wind as it swept through the rustling leaves. Many times He slept +there, and the tree watched over Him, and the forest was still, and all +its voices were hushed. And the angel hovered near like a faithful +sentinel. + +Ever and anon men came with the Master to the forest, and sat with Him +in the shade of the tree, and talked with Him of matters which the tree +never could understand; only it heard that the talk was of love and +charity and gentleness, and it saw that the Master was beloved and +venerated by the others. It heard them tell of the Master's goodness and +humility,--how He had healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed +inestimable blessings wherever He walked. And the tree loved the Master +for His beauty and His goodness; and when He came to the forest it was +full of joy, but when He came not it was sad. And the other trees of the +forest joined in its happiness and its sorrow, for they, too, loved the +Master. And the angel always hovered near. + +The Master came one night alone into the forest, and His face was pale +with anguish and wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and prayed. +The tree heard Him, and all the forest was still, as if it were standing +in the presence of death. And when the morning came, lo! the angel had +gone. + +Then there was a great confusion in the forest. There was a sound of +rude voices, and a clashing of swords and staves. Strange men appeared, +uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, and the tree was filled with +terror. It called aloud for the angel, but the angel came not. + +"Alas," cried the vine, "they have come to destroy the tree, the pride +and glory of the forest!" + +The forest was sorely agitated, but it was in vain. The strange men +plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the ground. +Its beautiful branches were cut away and cast aside, and its soft, thick +foliage was strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds. + +"They are killing me!" cried the tree; "why is not the angel here to +protect me?" + +But no one heard the piteous cry,--none but the other trees of the +forest; and they wept, and the little vine wept too. + +Then the cruel men dragged the despoiled and hewn tree from the forest, +and the forest saw that beauteous thing no more. + +But the night wind that swept down from the City of the Great King that +night to ruffle the bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the forest +awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross upraised on +Calvary,--the tree on which was stretched the body of the dying Master. + +1884. + + * * * * * + +The Symbol and the Saint. + + + + +THE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT. + + +Once upon a time a young man made ready for a voyage. His name was +Norss; broad were his shoulders, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was +fair and long, his body betokened strength, and good-nature shone from +his blue eyes and lurked about the corners of his mouth. + +"Where are you going?" asked his neighbor Jans, the forge-master. + +"I am going sailing for a wife," said Norss. + +"For a wife, indeed!" cried Jans. "And why go you to seek her in foreign +lands? Are not our maidens good enough and fair enough, that you must +need search for a wife elsewhere? For shame, Norss! for shame!" + +But Norss said, "A spirit came to me in my dreams last night and said, +'Launch the boat and set sail to-morrow. Have no fear; for I will guide +you to the bride that awaits you.' Then, standing there, all white and +beautiful, the spirit held forth a symbol--such as I had never before +seen--in the figure of a cross, and the spirit said: 'By this symbol +shall she be known to you.'" + +"If this be so, you must need go," said Jans. "But are you well +victualled? Come to my cabin, and let me give you venison and bear's +meat." + +Norss shook his head. "The spirit will provide," said he. "I have no +fear, and I shall take no care, trusting in the spirit." + +So Norss pushed his boat down the beach into the sea, and leaped into +the boat, and unfurled the sail to the wind. Jans stood wondering on the +beach, and watched the boat speed out of sight. + +On, on, many days on sailed Norss,--so many leagues that he thought he +must have compassed the earth. In all this time he knew no hunger nor +thirst; it was as the spirit had told him in his dream,--no cares nor +dangers beset him. By day the dolphins and the other creatures of the +sea gambolled about his boat; by night a beauteous Star seemed to direct +his course; and when he slept and dreamed, he saw ever the spirit clad +in white, and holding forth to him the symbol in the similitude of a +cross. + +At last he came to a strange country,--a country so very different from +his own that he could scarcely trust his senses. Instead of the rugged +mountains of the North, he saw a gentle landscape of velvety green; the +trees were not pines and firs, but cypresses, cedars, and palms; instead +of the cold, crisp air of his native land, he scented the perfumed +zephyrs of the Orient; and the wind that filled the sail of his boat and +smote his tanned cheeks was heavy and hot with the odor of cinnamon and +spices. The waters were calm and blue,--very different from the white +and angry waves of Norss's native fiord. + +As if guided by an unseen hand, the boat pointed straight for the beach +of this strangely beautiful land; and ere its prow cleaved the shallower +waters, Norss saw a maiden standing on the shore, shading her eyes with +her right hand, and gazing intently at him. She was the most beautiful +maiden he had ever looked upon. As Norss was fair, so was this maiden +dark; her black hair fell loosely about her shoulders in charming +contrast with the white raiment in which her slender, graceful form was +clad. Around her neck she wore a golden chain, and therefrom was +suspended a small symbol, which Norss did not immediately recognize. + +"Hast thou come sailing out of the North into the East?" asked the +maiden. + +"Yes," said Norss. + +"And thou art Norss?" she asked. + +"I am Norss; and I come seeking my bride," he answered. + +"I am she," said the maiden. "My name is Faia. An angel came to me in my +dreams last night, and the angel said: 'Stand upon the beach to-day, and +Norss shall come out of the North to bear thee home a bride.' So, coming +here, I found thee sailing to our shore." + +Remembering then the spirit's words, Norss said: "What symbol have you, +Faia, that I may know how truly you have spoken?" + +"No symbol have I but this," said Faia, holding out the symbol that was +attached to the golden chain about her neck. Norss looked upon it, and +lo! it was the symbol of his dreams,--a tiny wooden cross. + +Then Norss clasped Faia in his arms and kissed her, and entering into +the boat they sailed away into the North. In all their voyage neither +care nor danger beset them; for as it had been told to them in their +dreams, so it came to pass. By day the dolphins and the other creatures +of the sea gambolled about them; by night the winds and the waves sang +them to sleep; and, strangely enough, the Star which before had led +Norss into the East, now shone bright and beautiful in the Northern sky! + +When Norss and his bride reached their home, Jans, the forge-master, and +the other neighbors made great joy, and all said that Faia was more +beautiful than any other maiden in the land. So merry was Jans that he +built a huge fire in his forge, and the flames thereof filled the whole +Northern sky with rays of light that danced up, up, up to the Star, +singing glad songs the while. So Norss and Faia were wed, and they went +to live in the cabin in the fir-grove. + +To these two was born in good time a son, whom they named Claus. On the +night that he was born wondrous things came to pass. To the cabin in the +fir-grove came all the quaint, weird spirits,--the fairies, the elves, +the trolls, the pixies, the fadas, the crions, the goblins, the kobolds, +the moss-people, the gnomes, the dwarfs, the water-sprites, the courils, +the bogles, the brownies, the nixies, the trows, the stille-volk,--all +came to the cabin in the fir-grove, and capered about and sang the +strange, beautiful songs of the Mist-Land. And the flames of old Jans's +forge leaped up higher than ever into the Northern sky, carrying the +joyous tidings to the Star, and full of music was that happy night. + +Even in infancy Claus did marvellous things. With his baby hands he +wrought into pretty figures the willows that were given him to play +with. As he grew older, he fashioned, with the knife old Jans had made +for him, many curious toys,--carts, horses, dogs, lambs, houses, trees, +cats, and birds, all of wood and very like to nature. His mother taught +him how to make dolls too,--dolls of every kind, condition, temper, and +color; proud dolls, homely dolls, boy dolls, lady dolls, wax dolls, +rubber dolls, paper dolls, worsted dolls, rag dolls,--dolls of every +description and without end. So Claus became at once quite as popular +with the little girls as with the little boys of his native village; for +he was so generous that he gave away all these pretty things as fast as +he made them. + +Claus seemed to know by instinct every language. As he grew older he +would ramble off into the woods and talk with the trees, the rocks, and +the beasts of the greenwood; or he would sit on the cliffs overlooking +the fiord, and listen to the stories that the waves of the sea loved to +tell him; then, too, he knew the haunts of the elves and the +stille-volk, and many a pretty tale he learned from these little people. +When night came, old Jans told him the quaint legends of the North, and +his mother sang to him the lullabies she had heard when a little child +herself in the far-distant East. And every night his mother held out to +him the symbol in the similitude of the cross, and bade him kiss it ere +he went to sleep. + +So Claus grew to manhood, increasing each day in knowledge and in +wisdom. His works increased too; and his liberality dispensed everywhere +the beauteous things which his fancy conceived and his skill executed. +Jans, being now a very old man, and having no son of his own, gave to +Claus his forge and workshop, and taught him those secret arts which he +in youth had learned from cunning masters. Right joyous now was Claus; +and many, many times the Northern sky glowed with the flames that danced +singing from the forge while Claus moulded his pretty toys. Every color +of the rainbow were these flames; for they reflected the bright colors +of the beauteous things strewn round that wonderful workshop. Just as of +old he had dispensed to all children alike the homelier toys of his +youth, so now he gave to all children alike these more beautiful and +more curious gifts. So little children everywhere loved Claus, because +he gave them pretty toys, and their parents loved him because he made +their little ones so happy. + +But now Norss and Faia were come to old age. After long years of love +and happiness, they knew that death could not be far distant. And one +day Faia said to Norss: "Neither you nor I, dear love, fear death; but +if we could choose, would we not choose to live always in this our son +Claus, who has been so sweet a joy to us?" + +"Ay, ay," said Norss; "but how is that possible?" + +"We shall see," said Faia. + +That night Norss dreamed that a spirit came to him, and that the spirit +said to him: "Norss, thou shalt surely live forever in thy son Claus, if +thou wilt but acknowledge the symbol." + +Then when the morning was come Norss told his dream to Faia, his wife; +and Faia said,-- + +"The same dream had I,--an angel appearing to me and speaking these very +words." + +"But what of the symbol?" cried Norss. + +"I have it here, about my neck," said Faia. + +So saying, Faia drew from her bosom the symbol of wood,--a tiny cross +suspended about her neck by the golden chain. And as she stood there +holding the symbol out to Norss, he--he thought of the time when first +he saw her on the far-distant Orient shore, standing beneath the Star in +all her maidenly glory, shading her beauteous eyes with one hand, and +with the other clasping the cross,--the holy talisman of her faith. + +"Faia, Faia!" cried Norss, "it is the same,--the same you wore when I +fetched you a bride from the East!" + +"It is the same," said Faia, "yet see how my kisses and my prayers have +worn it away; for many, many times in these years, dear Norss, have I +pressed it to my lips and breathed your name upon it. See now--see what +a beauteous light its shadow makes upon your aged face!" + +The sunbeams, indeed, streaming through the window at that moment, cast +the shadow of the symbol on old Norss's brow. Norss felt a glorious +warmth suffuse him, his heart leaped with joy, and he stretched out his +arms and fell about Faia's neck, and kissed the symbol and acknowledged +it. Then likewise did Faia; and suddenly the place was filled with a +wondrous brightness and with strange music, and never thereafter were +Norss and Faia beholden of men. + +Until late that night Claus toiled at his forge; for it was a busy +season with him, and he had many, many curious and beauteous things to +make for the little children in the country round about. The colored +flames leaped singing from his forge, so that the Northern sky seemed to +be lighted by a thousand rainbows; but above all this voiceful glory +beamed the Star, bright, beautiful, serene. + +Coming late to the cabin in the fir-grove, Claus wondered that no sign +of his father or of his mother was to be seen. "Father--mother!" he +cried, but he received no answer. Just then the Star cast its golden +gleam through the latticed window, and this strange, holy light fell and +rested upon the symbol of the cross that lay upon the floor. Seeing it, +Claus stooped and picked it up, and kissing it reverently, he cried: +"Dear talisman, be thou my inspiration evermore; and wheresoever thy +blessed influence is felt, there also let my works be known henceforth +forever!" + +No sooner had he said these words than Claus felt the gift of +immortality bestowed upon him; and in that moment, too, there came to +him a knowledge that his parents' prayer had been answered, and that +Norss and Faia would live in him through all time. + +And lo! to that place and in that hour came all the people of Mist-Land +and of Dream-Land to declare allegiance to him: yes, the elves, the +fairies, the pixies,--all came to Claus, prepared to do his bidding. +Joyously they capered about him, and merrily they sang. + +"Now haste ye all," cried Claus,--"haste ye all to your homes and bring +to my workshop the best ye have. Search, little hill-people, deep in the +bowels of the earth for finest gold and choicest jewels; fetch me, O +mermaids, from the bottom of the sea the treasures hidden there,--the +shells of rainbow tints, the smooth, bright pebbles, and the strange +ocean flowers; go, pixies, and other water-sprites, to your secret +lakes, and bring me pearls! Speed! speed you all! for many pretty +things have we to make for the little ones of earth we love!" + +But to the kobolds and the brownies Claus said: "Fly to every house on +earth where the cross is known; loiter unseen in the corners, and watch +and hear the children through the day. Keep a strict account of good and +bad, and every night bring back to me the names of good and bad, that I +may know them." + +The kobolds and the brownies laughed gleefully, and sped away on +noiseless wings; and so, too, did the other fairies and elves. + +There came also to Claus the beasts of the forest and the birds of the +air, and bade him be their master. And up danced the Four Winds, and +they said: "May we not serve you, too?" + +The Snow King came stealing along in his feathery chariot. "Oho!" he +cried, "I shall speed over all the world and tell them you are +coming. In town and country, on the mountain-tops and in the +valleys,--wheresoever the cross is raised,--there will I herald your +approach, and thither will I strew you a pathway of feathery white. +Oho! oho!" So, singing softly, the Snow King stole upon his way. + +But of all the beasts that begged to do him service, Claus liked the +reindeer best. "You shall go with me in my travels; for henceforth I +shall bear my treasures not only to the children of the North, but to +the children in every land whither the Star points me and where the +cross is lifted up!" So said Claus to the reindeer, and the reindeer +neighed joyously and stamped their hoofs impatiently, as though they +longed to start immediately. + +Oh, many, many times has Claus whirled away from his far Northern home +in his sledge drawn by the reindeer, and thousands upon thousands of +beautiful gifts--all of his own making--has he borne to the children of +every land; for he loves them all alike, and they all alike love him, I +trow. So truly do they love him that they call him Santa Claus, and I am +sure that he must be a saint; for he has lived these many hundred years, +and we, who know that he was born of Faith and Love, believe that he +will live forever. + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Coming of the Prince. + + + + +THE COMING OF THE PRINCE. + + +I. + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" said the wind, and it tore through +the streets of the city that Christmas eve, turning umbrellas inside +out, driving the snow in fitful gusts before it, creaking the rusty +signs and shutters, and playing every kind of rude prank it could think +of. + +"How cold your breath is to-night!" said Barbara, with a shiver, as she +drew her tattered little shawl the closer around her benumbed body. + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" answered the wind; "but why are you +out in this storm? You should be at home by the warm fire." + +"I have no home," said Barbara; and then she sighed bitterly, and +something like a tiny pearl came in the corner of one of her sad blue +eyes. + +But the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street +to throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was struggling +along with a huge basket of good things on each arm. + +"Why are you not at the cathedral?" asked a snowflake, as it alighted on +Barbara's shoulder. "I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights there +as I floated down from the sky a moment ago." + +"What are they doing at the cathedral?" inquired Barbara. + +"Why, haven't you heard?" exclaimed the snowflake. "I supposed everybody +knew that the prince was coming to-morrow." + +"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve," said Barbara, "and the prince +will come to-morrow." + +Barbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how +beautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the +little children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to tell +Barbara of the prince and his coming,--none but the little snowflake. + +"I should like to see the prince," said Barbara, "for I have heard he +was very beautiful and good." + +"That he is," said the snowflake. "I have never seen him, but I heard +the pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest +to-night." + +"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!" cried the wind, returning boisterously to where +Barbara stood. "I've been looking for you everywhere, little snowflake! +So come with me." + +And without any further ado, the wind seized upon the snowflake and +hurried it along the street and led it a merry dance through the icy air +of the winter night. + +Barbara trudged on through the snow and looked in at the bright things +in the shop windows. The glitter of the lights and the sparkle of the +vast array of beautiful Christmas toys quite dazzled her. A strange +mingling of admiration, regret, and envy filled the poor little +creature's heart. + +"Much as I may yearn to have them, it cannot be," she said to herself, +"yet I may feast my eyes upon them." + +"Go away from here!" said a harsh voice. + +"How can the rich people see all my fine things if you stand before the +window? Be off with you, you miserable little beggar!" + +It was the shop-keeper, and he gave Barbara a savage box on the ear that +sent her reeling into the deeper snowdrifts of the gutter. + +Presently she came to a large house where there seemed to be much mirth +and festivity. The shutters were thrown open, and through the windows +Barbara could see a beautiful Christmas tree in the centre of a spacious +room,--a beautiful Christmas tree ablaze with red and green lights, and +heavy with toys and stars and glass balls, and other beautiful things +that children love. There was a merry throng around the tree, and the +children were smiling and gleeful, and all in that house seemed content +and happy. Barbara heard them singing, and their song was about the +prince who was to come on the morrow. + +"This must be the house where the prince will stop," thought Barbara. +"How I would like to see his face and hear his voice!--yet what would he +care for _me_, a 'miserable little beggar'?" + +So Barbara crept on through the storm, shivering and disconsolate, yet +thinking of the prince. + +"Where are you going?" she asked of the wind as it overtook her. + +"To the cathedral," laughed the wind. "The great people are flocking +there, and I will have a merry time amongst them, ha, ha, ha!" + +And with laughter the wind whirled away and chased the snow toward the +cathedral. + +"It is there, then, that the prince will come," thought Barbara. "It is +a beautiful place, and the people will pay him homage there. Perhaps I +shall see him if I go there." + +So she went to the cathedral. Many folk were there in their richest +apparel, and the organ rolled out its grand music, and the people sang +wondrous songs, and the priests made eloquent prayers; and the music, +and the songs, and the prayers were all about the prince and his +expected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice +talked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara +really loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the +people say of him. + +"Please, can I go and sit inside?" inquired Barbara of the sexton. + +"No!" said the sexton, gruffly, for this was an important occasion with +the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child. + +"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please may I not +see the prince?" + +"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you for +the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and don't be +blocking up the doorway!" So the sexton gave Barbara an angry push, and +the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the cathedral. She began +to cry. Some great people were entering the cathedral at the time, and +they laughed to see her falling. + +"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on Barbara's +cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to her shawl an +hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his boisterous search. + +"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara, in tears; "but what cares the prince for +_me_?" + +"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little snowflake. "Go to the +forest and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the +forest to the city." + +Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In the +forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would not +see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines. + +"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once more; +and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to streaming +in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek and sent it +spinning through the air. + +Barbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the +watchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked +her who she was and where she was going. + +"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest," said she, boldly. + +"Into the forest?" cried the watchman, "and in this storm? No, child; +you will perish!" + +"But I am going to see the prince," said Barbara. "They will not let me +watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so I am +going into the forest." + +The watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his own +little girl at home. + +"No, you must not go to the forest," said he, "for you would perish with +the cold." + +But Barbara would not stay. She avoided the watchman's grasp and ran as +fast as ever she could through the city gate. + +"Come back, come back!" cried the watchman; "you will perish in the +forest!" + +But Barbara would not heed his cry. The falling snow did not stay her, +nor did the cutting blast. She thought only of the prince, and she ran +straightway to the forest. + + +II. + +"What do you see up there, O pine-tree?" asked a little vine in the +forest. "You lift your head among the clouds to-night, and you tremble +strangely as if you saw wondrous sights." + +"I see only the distant hill-tops and the dark clouds," answered the +pine-tree. "And the wind sings of the snow-king to-night; to all my +questionings he says, 'Snow, snow, snow,' till I am wearied with his +refrain." + +"But the prince will surely come to-morrow?" inquired the tiny snowdrop +that nestled close to the vine. + +"Oh, yes," said the vine. "I heard the country folks talking about it as +they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince would +surely come on the morrow." + +"What are you little folks down there talking about?" asked the +pine-tree. + +"We are talking about the prince," said the vine. + +"Yes, he is to come on the morrow," said the pine-tree, "but not until +the day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east." + +"Yes," said the fir-tree, "the east is black, and only the wind and the +snow issue from it." + +"Keep your head out of my way!" cried the pine-tree to the fir; "with +your constant bobbing around I can hardly see at all." + +"Take _that_ for your bad manners," retorted the fir, slapping the +pine-tree savagely with one of her longest branches. + +The pine-tree would put up with no such treatment, so he hurled his +largest cone at the fir; and for a moment or two it looked as if there +were going to be a serious commotion in the forest. + +"Hush!" cried the vine in a startled tone; "there is some one coming +through the forest." + +The pine-tree and the fir stopped quarrelling, and the snowdrop nestled +closer to the vine, while the vine hugged the pine-tree very tightly. +All were greatly alarmed. + +"Nonsense!" said the pine-tree, in a tone of assumed bravery. "No one +would venture into the forest at such an hour." + +"Indeed! and why not?" cried a child's voice. "Will you not let me watch +with you for the coming of the prince?" + +"Will you not chop me down?" inquired the pine-tree, gruffly. + +"Will you not tear me from my tree?" asked the vine. + +"Will you not pluck my blossoms?" plaintively piped the snowdrop. + +"No, of course not," said Barbara; "I have come only to watch with you +for the prince." + +Then Barbara told them who she was, and how cruelly she had been treated +in the city, and how she longed to see the prince, who was to come on +the morrow. And as she talked, the forest and all therein felt a great +compassion for her. + +"Lie at my feet," said the pine-tree, "and I will protect you." + +"Nestle close to me, and I will chafe your temples and body and limbs +till they are warm," said the vine. + +"Let me rest upon your cheek, and I will sing you my little songs," said +the snowdrop. + +And Barbara felt very grateful for all these homely kindnesses. She +rested in the velvety snow at the foot of the pine-tree, and the vine +chafed her body and limbs, and the little flower sang sweet songs to +her. + +"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" There was that noisy wind again, but this time +it was gentler than it had been in the city. + +"Here you are, my little Barbara," said the wind, in kindly tones. "I +have brought you the little snowflake. I am glad you came away from the +city, for the people are proud and haughty there; oh, but I will have my +fun with them!" + +Then, having dropped the little snowflake on Barbara's cheek, the wind +whisked off to the city again. And we can imagine that it played rare +pranks with the proud, haughty folk on its return; for the wind, as you +know, is no respecter of persons. + +"Dear Barbara," said the snowflake, "I will watch with thee for the +coming of the prince." + +And Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so +pure and innocent and gentle. + +"Tell us, O pine-tree," cried the vine, "what do you see in the east? +Has the prince yet entered the forest?" + +"The east is full of black clouds," said the pine-tree, "and the winds +that hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow." + +"But the city is full of brightness," said the fir. "I can see the +lights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the prince +and his coming." + +"Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral," said Barbara, +sadly. + +"But we shall see him first," whispered the vine, reassuringly. + +"Yes, the prince will come through the forest," said the little +snowdrop, gleefully. + +"Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory," +cried the snowflake. + +Then all at once there was a strange hubbub in the forest; for it was +midnight, and the spirits came from their hiding-places to prowl about +and to disport themselves. Barbara beheld them all in great wonder and +trepidation, for she had never before seen the spirits of the forest, +although she had often heard of them. It was a marvellous sight. + +"Fear nothing," whispered the vine to Barbara,--"fear nothing, for they +dare not touch you." + +The antics of the wood-spirits continued but an hour; for then a cock +crowed, and immediately thereat, with a wondrous scurrying, the elves +and the gnomes and the other grotesque spirits sought their abiding +places in the caves and in the hollow trunks and under the loose bark of +the trees. And then it was very quiet once more in the forest. + +"It is very cold," said Barbara. "My hands and feet are like ice." + +Then the pine-tree and the fir shook down the snow from their broad +boughs, and the snow fell upon Barbara and covered her like a white +mantle. + +"You will be warm now," said the vine, kissing Barbara's forehead. And +Barbara smiled. + +Then the snowdrop sang a lullaby about the moss that loved the violet. +And Barbara said, "I am going to sleep; will you wake me when the prince +comes through the forest?" + +And they said they would. So Barbara fell asleep. + + +III. + +"The bells in the city are ringing merrily," said the fir, "and the +music in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before. Can it +be that the prince has already come into the city?" + +"No," cried the pine-tree, "look to the east and see the Christmas day +a-dawning! The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the forest!" + +The storm had ceased. Snow lay upon all the earth. The hills, the +forest, the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the +storm-king had thrown over them. Content with his wondrous work, the +storm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of +the Christmas day. Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful. +And most beautiful was the great hymn of praise the forest sang that +Christmas morning,--the pine-trees and the firs and the vines and the +snow-flowers that sang of the prince and of his promised coming. + +"Wake up, little one," cried the vine, "for the prince is coming!" + +But Barbara slept; she did not hear the vine's soft calling, nor the +lofty music of the forest. + +A little snow-bird flew down from the fir-tree's bough and perched upon +the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning and of +the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear the carol +of the bird. + +"Alas!" sighed the vine, "Barbara will not awaken, and the prince is +coming." + +Then the vine and the snowdrop wept, and the pine-tree and the fir were +very sad. + +The prince came through the forest clad in royal raiment and wearing a +golden crown. Angels came with him, and the forest sang a great hymn +unto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been heard on earth. +The prince came to the sleeping child and smiled upon her and called her +by name. + +"Barbara, my little one," said the prince, "awaken, and come with me." + +Then Barbara opened her eyes and beheld the prince. And it seemed as if +a new life had come to her, for there was warmth in her body, and a +flush upon her cheeks and a light in her eyes that were divine. And she +was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and upon +the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels wear. And +as Barbara arose and went to the prince, the little snowflake fell from +her cheek upon her bosom, and forthwith became a pearl more precious +than all other jewels upon earth. + +And the prince took Barbara in his arms and blessed her, and turning +round about, returned with the little child unto his home, while the +forest and the sky and the angels sang a wondrous song. + +The city waited for the prince, but he did not come. None knew of the +glory of the forest that Christmas morning, nor of the new life that +came to little Barbara. + + +_Come thou, dear Prince, oh, come to us this holy Christmas time! Come +to the busy marts of earth, the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the +humble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch every human heart, +that we may know that love, and in its blessed peace bear charity to all +mankind!_ + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Mouse and the Moonbeam. + + + + +THE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM. + + +Whilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-Soul, strange things happened; +but that I saw and heard them, I should never have believed them. The +clock stood, of course, in the corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the +floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner +and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon the floor. +The little mauve mouse was particularly merry; sometimes she danced upon +two legs and sometimes upon four legs, but always very daintily and +always very merrily. + +"Ah, me!" sighed the old clock, "how different mice are nowadays from +the mice we used to have in the good old times! Now there was your +grandma, Mistress Velvetpaw, and there was your grandpa, Master +Sniffwhisker,--how grave and dignified they were! Many a night have I +seen them dancing upon the carpet below me, but always the stately +minuet and never that crazy frisking which you are executing now, to my +surprise--yes, and to my horror, too." + +"But why shouldn't I be merry?" asked the little mauve mouse. "To-morrow +is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve." + +"So it is," said the old clock. "I had really forgotten all about it. +But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss Mauve Mouse?" + +"A great deal to me!" cried the little mauve mouse. "I have been very +good a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor have I gnawed +any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I worried my +mother by running behind the flour-barrel where that horrid trap is set. +In fact, I have been so good that I'm very sure Santa Claus will bring +me something very pretty." + +This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact, the old clock fell +to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck twelve +instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and therefore to be +reprehended. + +"Why, you silly little mauve mouse," said the old clock, "you don't +believe in Santa Claus, do you?" + +"Of course I do," answered the little mauve mouse. "Believe in Santa +Claus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a beautiful +butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a +delicious rind of cheese, and--and--lots of things? I should be very +ungrateful if I did _not_ believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly +shall not disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him +to arrive with a bundle of goodies for me. + +"I once had a little sister," continued the little mauve mouse, "who did +not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the fate that befell +her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers stand on end. She died +before I was born, but my mother has told me all about her. Perhaps you +never saw her; her name was Squeaknibble, and she was in stature one of +those long, low, rangey mice that are seldom found in well-stocked +pantries. Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who +came from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people and +the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed. Squeaknibble +seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most conspicuous of which +was a disposition to sneer at some of the most respected dogmas in +mousedom. From her very infancy she doubted, for example, the widely +accepted theory that the moon was composed of green cheese; and this +heresy was the first intimation her parents had of the sceptical turn of +her mind. Of course, her parents were vastly annoyed, for their maturer +natures saw that this youthful scepticism portended serious, if not +fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the sagacious couple reason and +plead with their headstrong and heretical child. + +"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was any such +archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the contrary one +memorable night, on which occasion she lost two inches of her beautiful +tail, and received so terrible a fright that for fully an hour afterward +her little heart beat so violently as to lift her off her feet and bump +her head against the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my +sister of so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same +brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this room, +crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be asleep, hoping, +forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated presence, will venture +within reach of her diabolical claws. So enraged was this ferocious +monster at the escape of my sister that she ground her fangs viciously +together, and vowed to take no pleasure in life until she held in her +devouring jaws the innocent little mouse which belonged to the mangled +bit of tail she even then clutched in her remorseless claws." + +"Yes," said the old clock, "now that you recall the incident, I +recollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and I remember +that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her awkwardness. My +reproaches irritated her; she told me that a clock's duty was to run +itself down, _not_ to be depreciating the merits of others! Yes, I +recall the time; that cat's tongue is fully as sharp as her claws." + +"Be that as it may," said the little mauve mouse, "it is a matter of +history, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that very moment the +cat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as if that one little +two-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had filled the cat with a +consuming passion, or appetite, for the rest of Squeaknibble. So the cat +waited and watched and hunted and schemed and devised and did everything +possible for a cat--a cruel cat--to do in order to gain her murderous +ends. One night--one fatal Christmas eve--our mother had undressed the +children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep earlier than +usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus would bring each of +them something very palatable and nice before morning. Thereupon the +little dears whisked their cunning tails, pricked up their beautiful +ears, and began telling one another what they hoped Santa Claus would +bring. One asked for a slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, +another for Sap Sago, and a fourth for Edam; one expressed a preference +for de Brie, while another hoped to get Parmesan; one clamored for +imperial blue Stilton, and another craved the fragrant boon of Caprera. +There were fourteen little ones then, and consequently there were +diverse opinions as to the kind of gift which Santa Claus should best +bring; still, there was, as you can readily understand, an enthusiastic +unanimity upon this point, namely, that the gift should be cheese of +some brand or other. + +"'My dears,' said our mother, 'what matters it whether the boon which +Santa Claus brings be royal English cheddar or fromage de Bricquebec, +Vermont sage, or Herkimer County skim-milk? We should be content with +whatsoever Santa Claus bestows, so long as it be cheese, disjoined from +all traps whatsoever, unmixed with Paris green, and free from glass, +strychnine, and other harmful ingredients. As for myself, I shall be +satisfied with a cut of nice, fresh Western reserve; for truly I +recognize in no other viand or edible half the fragrance or half the +gustfulness to be met with in one of these pale but aromatic domestic +products. So run away to your dreams now, that Santa Claus may find you +sleeping.' + +"The children obeyed,--all but Squeaknibble. 'Let the others think what +they please,' said she, 'but _I_ don't believe in Santa Claus. I'm not +going to bed, either. I'm going to creep out of this dark hole and have +a quiet romp, all by myself, in the moonlight.' Oh, what a vain, +foolish, wicked little mouse was Squeaknibble! But I will not reproach +the dead; her punishment came all too swiftly. Now listen: who do you +suppose overheard her talking so disrespectfully of Santa Claus?" + +"Why, Santa Claus himself," said the old clock. + +"Oh, no," answered the little mauve mouse. "It was that wicked, +murderous cat! Just as Satan lurks and lies in wait for bad children, so +does the cruel cat lurk and lie in wait for naughty little mice. And you +can depend upon it that, when that awful cat heard Squeaknibble speak so +disrespectfully of Santa Claus, her wicked eyes glowed with joy, her +sharp teeth watered, and her bristling fur emitted electric sparks as +big as marrowfat peas. Then what did that blood-thirsty monster do but +scuttle as fast as she could into Dear-my-Soul's room, leap up into +Dear-my-Soul's crib, and walk off with the pretty little white muff +which Dear-my-Soul used to wear when she went for a visit to the little +girl in the next block! What upon earth did the horrid old cat want with +Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white muff? Ah, the duplicity, the +diabolical ingenuity of that cat! Listen. + +"In the first place," resumed the little mauve mouse, after a pause that +testified eloquently to the depth of her emotion,--"in the first place, +that wretched cat dressed herself up in that pretty little white muff, +by which you are to understand that she crawled through the muff just so +far as to leave her four cruel legs at liberty." + +"Yes, I understand," said the old clock. + +"Then she put on the boy doll's fur cap," said the little mauve mouse, +"and when she was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and Dear-my-Soul's +pretty little white muff, of course she didn't look like a cruel cat at +all. But whom did she look like?" + +"Like the boy doll," suggested the old clock. + +"No, no!" cried the little mauve mouse. + +"Like Dear-my-Soul?" asked the old clock. + +"How stupid you are!" exclaimed the little mauve mouse. "Why, she +looked like Santa Claus, of course!" + +"Oh, yes; I see," said the old clock. "Now I begin to be interested; go +on." + +"Alas!" sighed the little mauve mouse, "not much remains to be told; but +there is more of my story left than there was of Squeaknibble when that +horrid cat crawled out of that miserable disguise. You are to understand +that, contrary to her sagacious mother's injunction, and in notorious +derision of the mooted coming of Santa Claus, Squeaknibble issued from +the friendly hole in the chimney corner, and gambolled about over this +very carpet, and, I dare say, in this very moonlight." + +"I do not know," said the moonbeam, faintly. "I am so very old, and I +have seen so many things--I do not know." + +"Right merrily was Squeaknibble gambolling," continued the little mauve +mouse, "and she had just turned a double back somersault without the use +of what remained of her tail, when, all of a sudden, she beheld, looming +up like a monster ghost, a figure all in white fur! Oh, how frightened +she was, and how her little heart did beat! 'Purr, purr-r-r,' said the +ghost in white fur. 'Oh, please don't hurt me!' pleaded Squeaknibble. +'No; I'll not hurt you,' said the ghost in white fur; 'I'm Santa Claus, +and I've brought you a beautiful piece of savory old cheese, you dear +little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was deceived; a sceptic all her +life, she was at last befooled by the most palpable and most fatal of +frauds. 'How good of you!' said Squeaknibble. 'I didn't believe there +was a Santa Claus, and--' but before she could say more she was seized +by two sharp, cruel claws that conveyed her crushed body to the +murderous mouth of mousedom's most malignant foe. I can dwell no longer +upon this harrowing scene. Suffice it to say that ere the morrow's sun +rose like a big yellow Herkimer County cheese upon the spot where that +tragedy had been enacted, poor Squeaknibble passed to that bourn whence +two inches of her beautiful tail had preceded her by the space of three +weeks to a day. As for Santa Claus, when he came that Christmas eve, +bringing morceaux de Brie and of Stilton for the other little mice, he +heard with sorrow of Squeaknibble's fate; and ere he departed he said +that in all his experience he had never known of a mouse or of a child +that had prospered after once saying that he didn't believe in Santa +Claus." + +"Well, that is a remarkable story," said the old clock. "But if you +believe in Santa Claus, why aren't you in bed?" + +"That's where I shall be presently," answered the little mauve mouse, +"but I must have my scamper, you know. It is very pleasant, I assure +you, to frolic in the light of the moon; only I cannot understand why +you are always so cold and so solemn and so still, you pale, pretty +little moonbeam." + +"Indeed, I do not know that I am so," said the moonbeam. "But I am very +old, and I have travelled many, many leagues, and I have seen wondrous +things. Sometimes I toss upon the ocean, sometimes I fall upon a +slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon a dead child's face. I see the +fairies at their play, and I hear mothers singing lullabies. Last night +I swept across the frozen bosom of a river. A woman's face looked up at +me; it was the picture of eternal rest. 'She is sleeping,' said the +frozen river. 'I rock her to and fro, and sing to her. Pass gently by, O +moonbeam; pass gently by, lest you awaken her.'" + +"How strangely you talk," said the old clock. "Now, I'll warrant me +that, if you wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and wonderful +story. You must know many a Christmas tale; pray, tell us one to wear +away this night of Christmas watching." + +"I know but one," said the moonbeam. "I have told it over and over +again, in every land and in every home; yet I do not weary of it. It is +very simple. Should you like to hear it?" + +"Indeed we should," said the old clock; "but before you begin, let me +strike twelve; for I shouldn't want to interrupt you." + +When the old clock had performed this duty with somewhat more than usual +alacrity, the moonbeam began its story:-- + +"Upon a time--so long ago that I can't tell how long ago it was--I fell +upon a hillside. It was in a far distant country; this I know, because, +although it was the Christmas time, it was not in that country as it is +wont to be in countries to the north. Hither the snow-king never came; +flowers bloomed all the year, and at all times the lambs found pleasant +pasturage on the hillsides. The night wind was balmy, and there was a +fragrance of cedar in its breath. There were violets on the hillside, +and I fell amongst them and lay there. I kissed them, and they awakened. +'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' they said, and they nestled in the +grass which the lambs had left uncropped. + +"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hillside; above him spread an +olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed its rusty +branches majestically in the shifting air of night. The shepherd's name +was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he had fallen asleep; his crook +had slipped from his hand. Upon the hillside, too, slept the shepherd's +flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen across their +gentle faces and brought them pleasant dreams of green pastures and of +cool water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he lay slumbering +there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King come upon +earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's name. + +"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have come in +good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things come to pass.' + +"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked. + +"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said the +violets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old olive-tree, +'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall walk upon the +hillside in the glory of the midnight hour.' So we waited and watched; +one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars peeped out; the +shepherd nodded and crooned and crooned and nodded, and at last he, too, +went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his keeping. Then we called +to the old olive-tree yonder, asking how soon the midnight hour would +come; but all the old olive-tree answered was 'Presently, presently,' +and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by our long watching, and +lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old olive-tree in the breezes +of the night. + +"'But who is this Master?' I asked. + +"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the little +Master by the others. He comes here often, and plays among the flowers +of the hillside. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have +crushed and bruised us so that we lie bleeding and are like to die; but +the little Master heals our wounds and refreshes us once again.' + +"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at hand,' +said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of whom you +speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of the hillside, and sang songs +one to another. + +"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not far +hence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float away out into the +mists and clouds, if you will come with me.' + +"But I hid under the violets and amid the tall grass, that the night +wind might not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old olive-tree!' +cried the violets; 'do you see the little Master coming? Is not the +midnight hour at hand?' + +"'I can see the town yonder,' said the old olive-tree. 'A star beams +bright over Bethlehem, the iron gates swing open, and the little Master +comes.' + +"Two children came to the hillside. The one, older than his comrade, was +Dimas, the son of Benoni. He was rugged and sinewy, and over his brown +shoulders was flung a goatskin; a leathern cap did not confine his long, +dark curly hair. The other child was he whom they called the little +Master; about his slender form clung raiment white as snow, and around +his face of heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So beautiful +a child I had not seen before, nor have I ever since seen such as he. +And as they came together to the hillside, there seemed to glow about +the little Master's head a soft white light, as if the moon had sent its +tenderest, fairest beams to kiss those golden curls. + +"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding fearful. + +"'Have no fear, Dimas,' said the little Master. 'Give me thy hand, and I +will lead thee.' + +"Presently they came to the rock whereon Benoni, the shepherd, lay; and +they stood under the old olive-tree, and the old olive-tree swayed no +longer in the night wind, but bent its branches reverently in the +presence of the little Master. It seemed as if the wind, too, stayed in +its shifting course just then; for suddenly there was a solemn hush, and +you could hear no noise, except that in his dreams Benoni spoke the +Messiah's name. + +"'Thy father sleeps,' said the little Master, 'and it is well that it is +so; for that I love thee, Dimas, and that thou shalt walk with me in my +Father's kingdom, I would show thee the glories of my birthright.' + +"Then all at once sweet music filled the air, and light, greater than +the light of day, illumined the sky and fell upon all that hillside. The +heavens opened, and angels, singing joyous songs, walked to the earth. +More wondrous still, the stars, falling from their places in the sky, +clustered upon the old olive-tree, and swung hither and thither like +colored lanterns. The flowers of the hillside all awakened, and they, +too, danced and sang. The angels, coming hither, hung gold and silver +and jewels and precious stones upon the old olive, where swung the +stars; so that the glory of that sight, though I might live forever, I +shall never see again. When Dimas heard and saw these things he fell +upon his knees, and catching the hem of the little Master's garment, he +kissed it. + +"'Greater joy than this shall be thine, Dimas,' said the little Master; +'but first must all things be fulfilled.' + +"All through that Christmas night did the angels come and go with their +sweet anthems; all through that Christmas night did the stars dance and +sing; and when it came my time to steal away, the hillside was still +beautiful with the glory and the music of heaven." + +"Well, is that all?" asked the old clock. + +"No," said the moonbeam; "but I am nearly done. The years went on. +Sometimes I tossed upon the ocean's bosom, sometimes I scampered o'er a +battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead child's face. I heard the +voices of Darkness and mothers' lullabies and sick men's prayers,--and +so the years went on. + +"I fell one night upon a hard and furrowed face. It was of ghostly +pallor. A thief was dying on the cross, and this was his wretched face. +About the cross stood men with staves and swords and spears, but none +paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond this cross another was lifted +up, and upon it was stretched a human body my light fell not upon. But I +heard a voice that somewhere I had heard before,--though where I did not +know,--and this voice blessed those that railed and jeered and +shamefully entreated. And suddenly the voice called 'Dimas, Dimas!' and +the thief upon whose hardened face I rested made answer. + +"Then I saw that it was Dimas; yet to this wicked criminal there +remained but little of the shepherd child whom I had seen in all his +innocence upon the hillside. Long years of sinful life had seared their +marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that familiar voice, +somewhat of the old-time boyish look came back, and in the yearning of +the anguished eyes I seemed to see the shepherd's son again. + +"'The Master!' cried Dimas, and he stretched forth his neck that he +might see him that spake. + +"'O Dimas, how art thou changed!' cried the Master, yet there was in +his voice no tone of rebuke save that which cometh of love. + +"Then Dimas wept, and in that hour he forgot his pain. And the Master's +consoling voice and the Master's presence there wrought in the dying +criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his head fell upon his +bosom, and the men about the cross said that he was dead, it seemed as +if I shined not upon a felon's face, but upon the face of the gentle +shepherd lad, the son of Benoni. + +"And shining on that dead and peaceful face, I bethought me of the +little Master's words that he had spoken under the old olive-tree upon +the hillside: 'Your eyes behold the promised glory now, O Dimas,' I +whispered, 'for with the Master you walk in Paradise.'" + + * * * * * + +Ah, little Dear-my-Soul, you know--you know whereof the moonbeam spake. +The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, the old +olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hillside are withered, and none +knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again, there +shined a star over Bethlehem, and the angels descended from the sky to +earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the bells,--hear them, +little Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are ringing,--the bells bear us +the good tidings of great joy this Christmas morning, that our Christ is +born, and that with him he bringeth peace on earth and good-will toward +men. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Divell's Chrystmass. + + + + +THE DIVELL'S CHRYSTMASS. + + +It befell that on a time ye Divell did walk to and fro upon ye earth, +having in his mind full evill cogitations how that he might do despight; +for of soche nature is ye Divell, and ever hath been, that continually +doth he go about among men, being so dispositioned that it sufficeth him +not that men sholde of their own forwardness, and by cause of the guile +born in them, turn unto his wickedness, but rather that he sholde by his +crewel artifices and diabolical machinations tempt them at all times and +upon every hand to do his fiendly plaisaunce. + +But it so fortuned that this time wherein ye Divell so walked upon ye +earth was ye Chrystmass time; and wit ye well that how evill soever ye +harte of man ben at other seasons, it is tofilled at ye Chrystmass time +with charity and love, like as if it ben sanctified by ye exceeding +holiness of that feast. Leastwise, this moche we know, that, whereas at +other times envy and worldliness do prevail, for a verity our natures +are toched at ye Chrystmass time as by ye hand of divinity, and +conditioned for merciful deeds unto our fellow kind. Right wroth was ye +Divell, therefore, when that he knew this ben ye Chrystmass time. And as +rage doth often confirm in ye human harte an evill purpose, so was ye +Divell now more diabolically minded to work his unclean will, and full +hejeously fell he to roar and lash his ribald legs with his poyson +taile. But ye Divell did presently conceive that naught might he +accomplish by this means, since that men, affrighted by his roaring and +astonied by ye fumes of brimstone and ye sulphur flames issuing from his +mouth, wolde flee therefrom; whereas by subtile craft and by words of +specious guile it more frequently befalls that ye Divell seduceth men +and lureth them into his toils. So then ye Divell did in a little season +feign to be in a full plaisaunt mind and of sweet purpose; and when that +he had girt him about with an hermit's cloak, so that none might see his +cloven feet and his poyson taile, right briskly did he fare him on his +journey, and he did sing ye while a plaisaunt tune, like he had ben full +of joyous contentation. + +Now it befell that presently in his journey he did meet with a frere, +Dan Dennyss, an holy man that fared him to a neighboring town for deeds +of charity and godliness. Unto him spake ye Divell full courteysely, and +required of him that he might bear him company; to which ye frere gave +answer in seemly wise, that, if so be that he ben of friendly +disposition, he wolde make him joy of his companionship and +conversation. Then, whiles that they journeyed together, began ye Divell +to discourse of theologies and hidden mysteries, and of conjurations, +and of negromancy and of magick, and of Chaldee, and of astrology, and +of chymistry, and of other occult and forbidden sciences, wherein ye +Divell and all that ply his damnable arts are mightily learned and +practised. Now wit ye well that this frere, being an holy man and a +simple, and having an eye single to ye blessed works of his calling, was +presently mightily troubled in his mind by ye artifices of ye Divell, +and his harte began to waver and to be filled with miserable doubtings; +for knowing nothing of ye things whereof ye Divell spake, he colde not +make answer thereto, nor, being of godly cogitation and practice, had he +ye confutations wherewith to meet ye abhominable argumentations of ye +fiend. + +Yet (and now shall I tell you of a special Providence) it did fortune, +whiles yet ye Divell discoursed in this profane wise, there was +vouchsafed unto ye frere a certain power to resist ye evill that +environed him; for of a sodaine he did cast his doubtings and his +misgivings to ye winds, and did fall upon ye Divell and did buffet him +full sore, crying, "Thou art ye Divell! Get thee gone!" And ye frere +plucked ye cloake from ye Divell and saw ye cloven feet and ye poyson +taile, and straightway ye Divell ran roaring away. But ye frere fared +upon his journey, for that he had had a successful issue from this +grevious temptation, with thanksgiving and prayse. + +Next came ye Divell into a town wherein were many people going to and +fro upon works of charity, and doing righteous practices; and sorely +did it repent ye Divell when that he saw ye people bent upon ye giving +of alms and ye doing of charitable deeds. Therefore with mighty +diligence did ye Divell apply himself to poyson ye minds of ye people, +shewing unto them in artful wise how that by idleness or by righteous +dispensation had ye poore become poore, and that, soche being ye will of +God, it was an evill and rebellious thing against God to seeke to +minister consolation unto these poore peoples. Soche like specious +argumentations did ye Divell use to gain his diabolical ends; but by +means of a grace whereof none then knew ye source, these men and these +women unto whom ye Divell spake his hejeous heresies presently +discovered force to withstand these fiendly temptations, and to continue +in their Chrystianly practices, to ye glory of their faith and to ye +benefite of ye needy, but to ye exceeding discomfiture of ye Divell; for +ye which discomfiture I do give hearty thanks, and so also shall all of +you, if so be that your hartes within you be of rightful disposition. + +All that day long fared ye Divell to and fro among ye people of ye town, +but none colde he bring into his hellish way of cogitation. Nor do I +count this to be a marvellous thing; for, as I myself have herein shewn +and as eche of us doth truly know, how can there be a place for ye +Divell upon earth during this Chrystmass time when in ye very air that +we breathe abideth a certain love and concord sent of heaven for the +controul and edification of mankind, filling human hartes with peace and +inclining human hands to ye delectable and blessed employments of +charity? Nay, but you shall know that all this very season whereof I +speak ye holy Chrystchilde himself did follow ye Divell upon earth, +forefending the crewel evills which ye Divell fain wolde do and girding +with confidence and love ye else frail natures of men. Soothly it is +known of common report among you that when ye Chrystmass season comes +upon ye earth there cometh with it also the spirit of our Chryst +himself, that in ye similitude of a little childe descendeth from heaven +and walketh among men. And if so be that by any chance ye Divell is +minded to issue from his foul pit at soche a time, wit ye well that +wheresoever ye fiend fareth to do his diabolical plaisaunce there also +close at hand followeth ye gentle Chrystchilde; so that ye Divell, try +how hard soever he may, hath no power at soche a time over the hartes of +men. + +Nay, but you shall know furthermore that of soche sweete quality and of +so great efficacy is this heavenly spirit of charity at ye Chrystmass +season, that oftentimes is ye Divell himself made to do a kindly deed. +So at this time of ye which I you tell, ye Divell, walking upon ye earth +with evill purpose, become finally overcome by ye gracious desire to +give an alms; but nony alms had ye Divell to give, sith it is wisely +ordained that ye Divell's offices shall be confined to his domain. Right +grievously tormented therefore was ye Divell, in that he had nought of +alms to bestow; but when presently he did meet with a beggar childe that +besought him charity, ye Divell whipped out a knife and cut off his own +taile, which taile ye Divell gave to ye beggar childe, for he had not +else to give for a lyttle trinket toy to make merry with. Now wit ye +well that this poyson instrument brought no evill to ye beggar childe, +for by a sodaine miracle it ben changed into a flowre of gold, ye which +gave great joy unto ye beggar childe and unto all them that saw this +miracle how that it had ben wrought, but not by ye Divell. Then returned +ye Divell unto his pit of fire; and since that day, whereupon befell +this thing of which I speak, ye Divell hath had nony taile at all, as +you that hath scene ye same shall truly testify. + +But all that day long walked ye Chrystchilde upon ye earth, unseen to ye +people but toching their hartes with his swete love and turning their +hands to charity; and all felt that ye Chrystchilde was with them. So it +was plaisaunt to do ye Chrystchilde's will, to succor ye needy, to +comfort ye afflicted, and to lift up ye oppressed. Most plaisauntest of +all was it to make merry with ye lyttle children, sithence of soche is +ye kingdom whence ye Chrystchilde cometh. + +Behold, ye season is again at hand; once more ye snows of winter lie +upon all ye earth, and all Chrystantie is arrayed to the holy feast. + +Presently shall ye star burn with exceeding brightness in ye east, ye +sky shall be full of swete music, ye angels shall descend to earth with +singing, and ye bells--ye joyous Chrystmass bells--shall tell us of ye +babe that was born in Bethlehem. + +Come to us now, O gentle Chrystchilde, and walke among us peoples of ye +earth; enwheel us round about with thy protecting care; forefend all +envious thoughts and evil deeds; toche thou our hearts with the glory of +thy love, and quicken us to practices of peace, good-will, and charity +meet for thy approval and acceptation. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Mountain and the Sea. + + + + +THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA. + + +Once upon a time the air, the mountain, and the sea lived undisturbed +upon all the earth. The mountain alone was immovable; he stood always +here upon his rocky foundation, and the sea rippled and foamed at his +feet, while the air danced freely over his head and about his grim face. +It came to pass that both the sea and the air loved the mountain, but +the mountain loved the sea. + +"Dance on forever, O air," said the mountain; "dance on and sing your +merry songs. But I love the gentle sea, who in sweet humility crouches +at my feet or playfully dashes her white spray against my brown bosom." + +Now the sea was full of joy when she heard these words, and her thousand +voices sang softly with delight. But the air was filled with rage and +jealousy, and she swore a terrible revenge. + +"The mountain shall not wed the sea," muttered the envious air. "Enjoy +your triumph while you may, O slumberous sister; I will steal you from +your haughty lover!" + +And it came to pass that ever after that the air each day caught up huge +parts of the sea and sent them floating forever through the air in the +shape of clouds. So each day the sea receded from the feet of the +mountain, and her tuneful waves played no more around his majestic base. + +"Whither art thou going, my love?" cried the mountain, in dismay. + +"She is false to thee," laughed the air, mockingly. "She is going to +another love far away." + +But the mountain would not believe it. He towered his head aloft and +cried more beseechingly than before: "Oh, whither art thou going, my +beloved? I do not hear thy sweet voice, nor do thy soft white arms +compass me about." + +Then the sea cried out in an agony of helpless love. But the mountain +heard her not, for the air refused to bring the words she said. + +"She is false!" whispered the air. "I alone am true to thee." + +But the mountain believed her not. Day after day he reared his massive +head aloft and turned his honest face to the receding sea and begged her +to return; day after day the sea threw up her snowy arms and uttered the +wildest lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; and day by day the +sea receded farther and farther from the mountain's base. Where she once +had spread her fair surface appeared fertile plains and verdant groves +all peopled with living things, whose voices the air brought to the +mountain's ears in the hope that they might distract the mountain from +his mourning. + +But the mountain would not be comforted; he lifted his sturdy head +aloft, and his sorrowing face was turned ever toward the fleeting object +of his love. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and other mountains +separated them now, but over and beyond them all he could see her fair +face lifted pleadingly toward him, while her white arms tossed wildly to +and fro. But he did not know what words she said, for the envious air +would not bear her messages to him. + +Then many ages came and went, until now the sea was far distant, so very +distant that the mountain could not behold her,--nay, had he been ten +thousand times as lofty he could not have seen her, she was so far away. +But still, as of old, the mountain stood with his majestic head high in +the sky, and his face turned whither he had seen her fading like a dream +away. + +"Come back, come back, O my beloved!" he cried and cried. + +And the sea, a thousand miles or more away, still thought forever of the +mountain. Vainly she peered over the western horizon for a glimpse of +his proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far +beyond; forests, plains, hills, valleys, rivers, and other mountains +intervened. Her watching was as hopeless as her love. + +"She is false!" whispered the air to the mountain. "She is false, and +she has gone to another lover. I alone am true!" + +But the mountain believed her not. And one day clouds came floating +through the sky and hovered around the mountain's crest. + +"Who art thou," cried the mountain,--"who art thou that thou fill'st me +with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath is like my beloved's, and +thy kisses are like her kisses." + +"We come from the sea," answered the clouds. "She loves thee, and she +has sent us to bid thee be courageous, for she will come back to thee." + +Then the clouds covered the mountain and bathed him with the glory of +the sea's true love. The air raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever +after that the clouds came each day with love-messages from the sea, and +oftentimes the clouds bore back to the distant sea the tender words the +mountain spoke. + +And so the ages come and go, the mountain rearing his giant head aloft, +and his brown, honest face turned whither the sea departed; the sea +stretching forth her arms to the distant mountain and repeating his dear +name with her thousand voices. + +Stand on the beach and look upon the sea's majestic calm and hear her +murmurings; or see her when, in the frenzy of her hopeless love, she +surges wildly and tosses her white arms and shrieks,--then you shall +know how the sea loves the distant mountain. + +The mountain is old and sear; the storms have beaten upon his breast, +and great scars and seams and wrinkles are on his sturdy head and honest +face. But he towers majestically aloft, and he looks always toward the +distant sea and waits for her promised coming. + +And so the ages come and go, but love is eternal. + + +1886. + + * * * * * + +The Robin and the Violet. + + + + +THE ROBIN AND THE VIOLET. + + +Once upon a time a robin lived in the greenwood. Of all the birds his +breast was the brightest, his music was the sweetest, and his life was +the merriest. Every morning and evening he perched himself among the +berries of the linden-tree, and carolled a song that made the whole +forest joyous; and all day long he fluttered among the flowers and +shrubbery of the wild-wood, and twittered gayly to the brooks, the +ferns, and the lichens. + +A violet grew among the mosses at the foot of the linden-tree where +lived the robin. She was so very tiny and so very modest that few knew +there was such a pretty little creature in the world. Withal she was so +beautiful and so gentle that those who knew the violet loved her very +dearly. + +The south wind came wooing the violet. He danced through the shrubbery +and ferns, and lingered on the velvet moss where the little flower grew. +But when he kissed her pretty face and whispered to her, she hung her +head and said, "No, no; it cannot be." + +"Nay, little violet, do not be so cruel," pleaded the south wind; "let +me bear you as my bride away to my splendid home in the south, where all +is warmth and sunshine always." + +But the violet kept repeating, "No, it cannot be; no, it cannot be," +till at last the south wind stole away with a very heavy heart. + +And the rose exclaimed, in an outburst of disgustful indignation: "What +a foolish violet! How silly of her to refuse such a wooer as the south +wind, who has a beautiful home and a patrimony of eternal warmth and +sunshine!" + +But the violet, as soon as the south wind had gone, looked up at the +robin perched in the linden-tree and singing his clear song; and it +seemed as if she blushed and as if she were thrilled with a great +emotion as she beheld him. But the robin did not see the violet. His +eyes were turned the other way, and he sang to the clouds in the sky. + +The brook o'erleapt its banks one day, and straying toward the +linden-tree, it was amazed at the loveliness of the violet. Never had it +seen any flower half so beautiful. + +"Oh, come and be my bride," cried the brook. "I am young and small now, +but presently you shall see me grow to a mighty river whose course no +human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast thyself +upon my bosom, sweet violet, and let us float together to that great +destiny which awaits me." + +But the violet shuddered and recoiled and said: "Nay, nay, impetuous +brook, I will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs and complaints, +the brook crept back to its jealous banks and resumed its devious and +prattling way to the sea. + +"Bless me!" cried the daisy, "only to think of that silly violet's +refusing the brook! Was there ever another such piece of folly! Where +else is there a flower that would not have been glad to go upon such a +wonderful career? Oh, how short-sighted some folks are!" + +But the violet paid no heed to these words; she looked steadfastly up +into the foliage of the linden-tree where the robin was carolling. The +robin did not see the violet; he was singing to the tops of the +fir-trees over yonder. + +The days came and went. The robin sang and fluttered in the greenwood, +and the violet bided among the mosses at the foot of the linden; and +although the violet's face was turned always upward to where the robin +perched and sang, the robin never saw the tender little flower. + +One day a huntsman came through the greenwood, and an arrow from his +cruel bow struck the robin and pierced his heart. The robin was +carolling in the linden, but his song was ended suddenly, and the +innocent bird fell dying from the tree. "Oh, it is only a robin," said +the huntsman, and with a careless laugh he went on his way. + +The robin lay upon the mosses at the foot of the linden, close beside +the violet. But he neither saw nor heard anything, for his life was +nearly gone. The violet tried to bind his wound and stay the flow of his +heart's blood, but her tender services were vain. The robin died +without having seen her sweet face or heard her gentle voice. + +Then the other birds of the greenwood came to mourn over their dead +friend. The moles and the mice dug a little grave and laid the robin in +it, after which the birds brought lichens and leaves, and covered the +dead body, and heaped earth over all, and made a great lamentation. But +when they went away, the violet remained; and after the sun had set, and +the greenwood all was dark, the violet bent over the robin's grave and +kissed it, and sang to the dead robin. And the violet watched by the +robin's grave for weeks and months, her face pressed forward toward that +tiny mound, and her gentle voice always singing softly and sweetly about +the love she never had dared to tell. + +Often after that the south wind and the brook came wooing her, but she +never heard them, or, if she heard them, she did not answer. The vine +that lived near the chestnut yonder said the violet was greatly changed; +that from being a merry, happy thing, she had grown sad and reticent; +she used to hold up her head as proudly as the others, but now she +seemed broken and weary. The shrubs and flowers talked it all over many +and many a time, but none of them could explain the violet's strange +conduct. + +It was autumn now, and the greenwood was not what it had been. The birds +had flown elsewhere to be the guests of the storks during the winter +months, the rose had run away to be the bride of the south wind, and the +daisy had wedded the brook and was taking a bridal tour to the seaside +watering-places. But the violet still lingered in the greenwood, and +kept her vigil at the grave of the robin. She was pale and drooping, but +still she watched and sang over the spot where her love lay buried. Each +day she grew weaker and paler. The oak begged her to come and live among +the warm lichens that protected him from the icy breath of the +storm-king, but the violet chose to watch and sing over the robin's +grave. + +One morning, after a night of exceeding darkness and frost, the +boisterous north wind came trampling through the greenwood. + +"I have come for the violet," he cried; "she would not have my fair +brother, but she must go with _me_, whether it pleases her or not!" + +But when he came to the foot of the linden-tree his anger was changed to +compassion. The violet was dead, and she lay upon the robin's grave. Her +gentle face rested close to the little mound, as if, in her last moment, +the faithful flower had stretched forth her lips to kiss the dust that +covered her beloved. + + +1884. + + * * * * * + +The Oak-tree and the Ivy. + + + + +THE OAK-TREE AND THE IVY. + + +In the greenwood stood a mighty oak. So majestic was he that all who +came that way paused to admire his strength and beauty, and all the +other trees of the greenwood acknowledged him to be their monarch. + +Now it came to pass that the ivy loved the oak-tree, and inclining her +graceful tendrils where he stood, she crept about his feet and twined +herself around his sturdy and knotted trunk. And the oak-tree pitied the +ivy. + +"Oho!" he cried, laughing boisterously, but good-naturedly,--"oho! so +you love me, do you, little vine? Very well, then; play about my feet, +and I will keep the storms from you and will tell you pretty stories +about the clouds, the birds, and the stars." + +The ivy marvelled greatly at the strange stories the oak-tree told; they +were stories the oak-tree heard from the wind that loitered about his +lofty head and whispered to the leaves of his topmost branches. +Sometimes the story was about the great ocean in the East, sometimes of +the broad prairies in the West, sometimes of the ice-king who lived in +the North, and sometimes of the flower-queen who dwelt in the South. +Then, too, the moon told a story to the oak-tree every night,--or at +least every night that she came to the greenwood, which was very often, +for the greenwood is a very charming spot, as we all know. And the +oak-tree repeated to the ivy every story the moon told and every song +the stars sang. + +"Pray, what are the winds saying now?" or "What song is that I hear?" +the ivy would ask; and then the oak-tree would repeat the story or the +song, and the ivy would listen in great wonderment. + +Whenever the storms came, the oak-tree cried to the little ivy: "Cling +close to me, and no harm shall befall you! See how strong I am; the +tempest does not so much as stir me--I mock its fury!" + +Then, seeing how strong and brave he was, the ivy hugged him closely; +his brown, rugged breast protected her from every harm, and she was +secure. + +The years went by; how quickly they flew,--spring, summer, winter, and +then again spring, summer, winter,--ah, life is short in the greenwood +as elsewhere! And now the ivy was no longer a weakly little vine to +excite the pity of the passer-by. Her thousand beautiful arms had twined +hither and thither about the oak-tree, covering his brown and knotted +trunk, shooting forth a bright, delicious foliage and stretching far up +among his lower branches. Then the oak-tree's pity grew into a love for +the ivy, and the ivy was filled with a great joy. And the oak-tree and +the ivy were wed one June night, and there was a wonderful celebration +in the greenwood; and there was the most beautiful music, in which the +pine-trees, the crickets, the katydids, the frogs, and the nightingales +joined with pleasing harmony. + +The oak-tree was always good and gentle to the ivy. "There is a storm +coming over the hills," he would say. "The east wind tells me so; the +swallows fly low in the air, and the sky is dark. Cling close to me, my +beloved, and no harm shall befall you." + +Then, confidently and with an always-growing love, the ivy would cling +more closely to the oak-tree, and no harm came to her. + +"How good the oak-tree is to the ivy!" said the other trees of the +greenwood. The ivy heard them, and she loved the oak-tree more and more. +And, although the ivy was now the most umbrageous and luxuriant vine in +all the greenwood, the oak-tree regarded her still as the tender little +thing he had laughingly called to his feet that spring day, many years +before,--the same little ivy he had told about the stars, the clouds, +and the birds. And, just as patiently as in those days he had told her +of these things, he now repeated other tales the winds whispered to his +topmost boughs,--tales of the ocean in the East, the prairies in the +West, the ice-king in the North, and the flower-queen in the South. +Nestling upon his brave breast and in his stout arms, the ivy heard him +tell these wondrous things, and she never wearied with the listening. + +"How the oak-tree loves her!" said the ash. "The lazy vine has naught +to do but to twine herself about the arrogant oak-tree and hear him tell +his wondrous stories!" + +The ivy heard these envious words, and they made her very sad; but she +said nothing of them to the oak-tree, and that night the oak-tree rocked +her to sleep as he repeated the lullaby a zephyr was singing to him. + +"There is a storm coming over the hills," said the oak-tree one day. +"The east wind tells me so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky +is dark. Clasp me round about with thy dear arms, my beloved, and nestle +close unto my bosom, and no harm shall befall thee." + +"I have no fear," murmured the ivy; and she clasped her arms most +closely about him and nestled unto his bosom. + +The storm came over the hills and swept down upon the greenwood with +deafening thunder and vivid lightning. The storm-king himself rode upon +the blast; his horses breathed flames, and his chariot trailed through +the air like a serpent of fire. The ash fell before the violence of the +storm-king's fury, and the cedars groaning fell, and the hemlocks and +the pines; but the oak-tree alone quailed not. + +"Oho!" cried the storm-king, angrily, "the oak-tree does not bow to me, +he does not tremble in my presence. Well, we shall see." + +With that, the storm-king hurled a mighty thunderbolt at the oak-tree, +and the brave, strong monarch of the greenwood was riven. Then, with a +shout of triumph, the storm-king rode away. + +"Dear oak-tree, you are riven by the storm-king's thunderbolt!" cried +the ivy, in anguish. + +"Ay," said the oak-tree, feebly, "my end has come; see, I am shattered +and helpless." + +"But _I_ am unhurt," remonstrated the ivy, "and I will bind up your +wounds and nurse you back to health and vigor." + +And so it was that, although the oak-tree was ever afterward a riven and +broken thing, the ivy concealed the scars upon his shattered form and +covered his wounds all over with her soft foliage. + +"I had hoped, dear one," she said, "to grow up to thy height, to live +with thee among the clouds, and to hear the solemn voices thou didst +hear. Thou wouldst have loved me better then?" + +But the old oak-tree said: "Nay, nay, my beloved; I love thee better as +thou art, for with thy beauty and thy love thou comfortest mine age." + +Then would the ivy tell quaint stories to the old and broken +oak-tree,--stories she had learned from the crickets, the bees, the +butterflies, and the mice when she was an humble little vine and played +at the foot of the majestic oak-tree, towering in the greenwood with no +thought of the tiny shoot that crept toward him with her love. And these +simple tales pleased the old and riven oak-tree; they were not as heroic +as the tales the winds, the clouds, and the stars told, but they were +far sweeter, for they were tales of contentment, of humility, of love. + +So the old age of the oak-tree was grander than his youth. + +And all who went through the greenwood paused to behold and admire the +beauty of the oak-tree then; for about his seared and broken trunk the +gentle vine had so entwined her graceful tendrils and spread her fair +foliage, that one saw not the havoc of the years nor the ruin of the +tempest, but only the glory of the oak-tree's age, which was the ivy's +love and ministering. + +1886. + + * * * * * + +Margaret: A Pearl. + + + + +MARGARET: A PEARL. + + +In a certain part of the sea, very many leagues from here, there once +lived a large family of oysters noted for their beauty and size. But +among them was one so small, so feeble, and so ill-looking as to excite +the pity, if not the contempt, of all the others. The father, a +venerable, bearded oyster, of august appearance and solemn deportment, +was much mortified that one of his family should happen to be so sickly; +and he sent for all the doctors in the sea to come and treat her; from +which circumstance you are to note that doctors are an evil to be met +with not alone upon _terra firma_. The first to come was Dr. Porpoise, a +gentleman of the old school, who floundered around in a very important +manner and was full of imposing ceremonies. + +"Let me look at your tongue," said Dr. Porpoise, stroking his beard with +one fin, impressively. "Ahem! somewhat coated, I see. And your pulse is +far from normal; no appetite, I presume? Yes, my dear, your system is +sadly out of order. You need medicine." + +The little oyster hated medicine; so she cried,--yes, she actually shed +cold, briny tears at the very thought of taking old Dr. Porpoise's +prescriptions. But the father-oyster and the mother-oyster chided her +sternly; they said that the medicine would be nice and sweet, and that +the little oyster would like it. But the little oyster knew better than +all that; yes, she knew a thing or two, even though she _was_ only a +little oyster. + +Now Dr. Porpoise put a plaster on the little oyster's chest and a +blister at her feet. He bade her eat nothing but a tiny bit of sea-foam +on toast twice a day. Every two hours she was to take a spoonful of +cod-liver oil, and before each meal a wineglassful of the essence of +distilled cuttlefish. The plaster she didn't mind, but the blister and +the cod-liver oil were terrible; and when it came to the essence of +distilled cuttlefish--well, she just couldn't stand it! In vain her +mother reasoned with her, and promised her a new doll and a +skipping-rope and a lot of other nice things: the little oyster would +have none of the horrid drug; until at last her father, abandoning his +dignity in order to maintain his authority, had to hold her down by main +strength and pour the medicine into her mouth. This was, as you will +allow, quite dreadful. + +But this treatment did the little oyster no good; and her parents made +up their minds that they would send for another doctor, and one of a +different school. Fortunately they were in a position to indulge in +almost any expense, since the father-oyster himself was president of one +of the largest banks of Newfoundland. So Dr. Sculpin came with his neat +little medicine-box under his arm. And when he had looked at the sick +little oyster's tongue, and had taken her temperature, and had felt her +pulse, he said he knew what ailed her; but he did not tell anybody what +it was. He threw away the plasters, the blisters, the cod-liver oil, and +the essence of distilled cuttlefish, and said it was a wonder that the +poor child had lived through it all! + +"Will you please bring me two tumblerfuls of water?" he remarked to the +mother-oyster. + +The mother-oyster scuttled away, and soon returned with two conch-shells +filled to the brim with pure, clear sea-water. Dr. Sculpin counted three +grains of white sand into one shell, and three grains of yellow sand +into the other shell, with great care. + +"Now," said he to the mother-oyster, "I have numbered these 1 and 2. +First, you are to give the patient ten drops out of No. 2, and in an +hour after that, eight drops out of No. 1; the next hour, eight drops +out of No. 2; and the next, or fourth, hour, ten drops out of No. 1. And +so you are to continue hour by hour, until either the medicine or the +child gives out." + +"Tell me, doctor," asked the mother, "shall she continue the food +suggested by Dr. Porpoise?" + +"What food did he recommend?" inquired Dr. Sculpin. + +"Sea-foam on toast," answered the mother. + +Dr. Sculpin smiled a smile which seemed to suggest that Dr. Porpoise's +ignorance was really quite annoying. + +"My dear madam," said Dr. Sculpin, "the diet suggested by that quack, +Porpoise, passed out of the books years ago. Give the child toast on +sea-foam, if you wish to build up her debilitated forces." + +Now, the sick little oyster did not object to this treatment; on the +contrary, she liked it. But it did her no good. And one day, when she +was feeling very dry, she drank both tumblerfuls of medicine, and it did +not do her any harm; neither did it cure her: she remained the same sick +little oyster,--oh, so sick! This pained her parents very much. They did +not know what to do. They took her travelling; they gave her into the +care of the eel for electric treatment; they sent her to the Gulf Stream +for warm baths,--they tried everything, but to no avail. The sick little +oyster remained a sick little oyster, and there was an end of it. + +At last one day,--one cruel, fatal day,--a horrid, fierce-looking +machine was poked down from the surface of the water far above, and +with slow but intrepid movement began exploring every nook and crevice +of the oyster village. There was not a family into which it did not +intrude, nor a home circle whose sanctity it did not ruthlessly invade. +It scraped along the great mossy rock; and lo! with a monstrous +scratchy-te-scratch, the mother-oyster and the father-oyster and +hundreds of other oysters were torn from their resting-places and borne +aloft in a very jumbled and very frightened condition by the impertinent +machine. Then down it came again, and the sick little oyster was among +the number of those who were seized by the horrid monster this time. She +found herself raised to the top of the sea; and all at once she was +bumped in a boat, where she lay, puny and helpless, on a huge pile of +other oysters. Two men were handling the fierce-looking machine. A +little boy sat in the stern of the boat watching the huge pile of +oysters. He was a pretty little boy, with bright eyes and long tangled +hair. He wore no hat, and his feet were bare and brown. + +"What a funny little oyster!" said the boy, picking up the sick little +oyster; "it is no bigger than my thumb, and it is very pale." + +"Throw it away," said one of the men. "Like as not it is bad and not fit +to eat." + +"No, keep it and send it out West for a Blue Point," said the other +man,--what a heartless wretch he was! + +But the little boy had already thrown the sick little oyster overboard. +She fell in shallow water, and the rising tide carried her still farther +toward shore, until she lodged against an old gum boot that lay half +buried in the sand. There were no other oysters in sight. Her head ached +and she was very weak; how lonesome, too, she was!--yet anything was +better than being eaten,--at least so thought the little oyster, and so, +I presume, think you. + +For many weeks and many months the sick little oyster lay hard by the +old gum boot; and in that time she made many acquaintances and friends +among the crabs, the lobsters, the fiddlers, the star-fish, the waves, +the shells, and the gay little fishes of the ocean. They did not harm +her, for they saw that she was sick; they pitied her--some loved her. +The one that loved her most was the perch with green fins that attended +school every day in the academic shade of the big rocks in the quiet +cove about a mile away. He was very gentle and attentive, and every +afternoon he brought fresh cool sea-foam for the sick oyster to eat; he +told her pretty stories, too,--stories which his grandmother, the +venerable codfish, had told him of the sea king, the mermaids, the +pixies, the water sprites, and the other fantastically beautiful +dwellers in ocean-depths. Now while all this was very pleasant, the sick +little oyster knew that the perch's wooing was hopeless, for she was +very ill and helpless, and could never think of becoming a burden upon +one so young and so promising as the gallant perch with green fins. But +when she spoke to him in this strain, he would not listen; he kept right +on bringing her more and more cool sea-foam every day. + +The old gum boot was quite a motherly creature, and anon the sick little +oyster became very much attached to her. Many times as the little +invalid rested her aching head affectionately on the instep of the old +gum boot, the old gum boot told her stories of the world beyond the +sea: how she had been born in a mighty forest, and how proud her folks +were of their family tree; how she had been taken from that forest and +moulded into the shape she now bore; how she had graced and served a +foot in amphibious capacities, until at last, having seen many things +and having travelled much, she had been cast off and hurled into the sea +to be the scorn of every crab and the derision of every fish. These +stories were all new to the little oyster, and amazing, too; she knew +only of the sea, having lived therein all her life. She in turn told the +old gum boot quaint legends of the ocean,--the simple tales she had +heard in her early home; and there was a sweetness and a simplicity in +these stories of the deep that charmed the old gum boot, shrivelled and +hardened and pessimistic though she was. + +Yet, in spite of it all,--the kindness, the care, the amusements, and +the devotion of her friends,--the little oyster remained always a sick +and fragile thing. But no one heard her complain, for she bore her +suffering patiently. + +Not far from this beach where the ocean ended its long travels there was +a city, and in this city there dwelt with her parents a maiden of the +name of Margaret. From infancy she had been sickly, and although she had +now reached the years of early womanhood, she could not run or walk +about as others did, but she had to be wheeled hither and thither in a +chair. This was very sad; yet Margaret was so gentle and uncomplaining +that from aught she said you never would have thought her life was full +of suffering. Seeing her helplessness, the sympathetic things of Nature +had compassion and were very good to Margaret. The sunbeams stole across +her pathway everywhere, the grass clustered thickest and greenest where +she went, the winds caressed her gently as they passed, and the birds +loved to perch near her window and sing their prettiest songs. Margaret +loved them all,--the sunlight, the singing winds, the grass, the +carolling birds. She communed with them; their wisdom inspired her life, +and this wisdom gave her nature a rare beauty. + +Every pleasant day Margaret was wheeled from her home in the city down +to the beach, and there for hours she would sit, looking out, far out +upon the ocean, as if she were communing with the ocean spirits that +lifted up their white arms from the restless waters and beckoned her to +come. Oftentimes the children playing on the beach came where Margaret +sat, and heard her tell little stories of the pebbles and the shells, of +the ships away out at sea, of the ever-speeding gulls, of the grass, of +the flowers, and of the other beautiful things of life; and so in time +the children came to love Margaret. Among those who so often gathered to +hear the gentle sick girl tell her pretty stories was a youth of +Margaret's age,--older than the others, a youth with sturdy frame and a +face full of candor and earnestness. His name was Edward, and he was a +student in the city; he hoped to become a great scholar sometime, and he +toiled very zealously to that end. The patience, the gentleness, the +sweet simplicity, the fortitude of the sick girl charmed him. He found +in her little stories a quaint and beautiful philosophy he never yet had +found in books; there was a valor in her life he never yet had read of +in the histories. So, every day she came and sat upon the beach, Edward +came too; and with the children he heard Margaret's stories of the sea, +the air, the grass, the birds, and the flowers. + +From her moist eyrie in the surf the old gum boot descried the group +upon the beach each pleasant day. Now the old gum boot had seen enough +of the world to know a thing or two, as we presently shall see. + +"That tall young man is not a child," quoth the old gum boot, "yet he +comes every day with the children to hear the sick girl tell her +stories! Ah, ha!" + +"Perhaps he is the doctor," suggested the little oyster; and then she +added with a sigh, "but, oh! I hope not." + +This suggestion seemed to amuse the old gum boot highly; at least she +fell into such hysterical laughter that she sprung a leak near her +little toe, which, considering her environments, was a serious mishap. + +"Unless I am greatly mistaken, my child," said the old gum boot to the +little oyster, "that young man is in love with the sick girl!" + +"Oh, how terrible!" said the little oyster; and she meant it too, for +she was thinking of the gallant young perch with green fins. + +"Well, I've said it, and I mean it!" continued the old gum boot; "now +just wait and see." + +The old gum boot had guessed aright--so much for the value of worldly +experience! Edward loved Margaret; to him she was the most beautiful, +the most perfect being in the world; her very words seemed to exalt his +nature. Yet he never spoke to her of love. He was content to come with +the children to hear her stories, to look upon her sweet face, and to +worship her in silence. Was not that a very wondrous love? + +In course of time the sick girl Margaret became more interested in the +little ones that thronged daily to hear her pretty stories, and she put +her beautiful fancies into the little songs and quaint poems and tender +legends,--songs and poems and legends about the sea, the flowers, the +birds, and the other beautiful creations of Nature; and in all there was +a sweet simplicity, a delicacy, a reverence, that bespoke Margaret's +spiritual purity and wisdom. In this teaching, and marvelling ever at +its beauty, Edward grew to manhood. She was his inspiration, yet he +never spoke of love to Margaret. And so the years went by. + +Beginning with the children, the world came to know the sick girl's +power. Her songs were sung in every home, and in every home her verses +and her little stories were repeated. And so it was that Margaret came +to be beloved of all, but he who loved her best spoke never of his love +to her. + +And as these years went by, the sick little oyster lay in the sea +cuddled close to the old gum boot. She was wearier now than ever before, +for there was no cure for her malady. The gallant perch with green fins +was very sad, for his wooing had been hopeless. Still he was devoted, +and still he came each day to the little oyster, bringing her cool +sea-foam and other delicacies of the ocean. Oh, how sick the little +oyster was! But the end came at last. + +The children were on the beach one day, waiting for Margaret, and they +wondered that she did not come. Presently, grown restless, many of the +boys scampered into the water and stood there, with their trousers +rolled up, boldly daring the little waves that rippled up from the +overflow of the surf. And one little boy happened upon the old gum boot. +It was a great discovery. + +"See the old gum boot," cried the boy, fishing it out of the water and +holding it on high. "And here is a little oyster fastened to it! How +funny!" + +The children gathered round the curious object on the beach. None of +them had ever seen such a funny old gum boot, and surely none of them +had ever seen such a funny little oyster. They tore the pale, knotted +little thing from her foster-mother, and handled her with such rough +curiosity that even had she been a robust oyster she must certainly have +died. At any rate, the little oyster was dead now; and the bereaved +perch with green fins must have known it, for he swam up and down his +native cove disconsolately. + +It befell in that same hour that Margaret lay upon her deathbed, and +knowing that she had not long to live, she sent for Edward. And Edward, +when he came to her, was filled with anguish, and clasping her hands in +his, he told her of his love. + +Then Margaret answered him: "I knew it, dear one; and all the songs I +have sung and all the words I have spoken and all the prayers I have +made have been with you, dear one,--all with _you_ in my heart of +hearts." + +"You have purified and exalted my life," cried Edward; "you have been my +best and sweetest inspiration; you have taught me the eternal +truth,--you are my beloved!" + +And Margaret said: "Then in my weakness hath there been a wondrous +strength, and from my sufferings cometh the glory I have sought--" + +So Margaret died, and like a broken lily she lay upon her couch; and all +the sweetness of her pure and gentle life seemed to come down and rest +upon her face; and the songs she had sung and the beautiful stories she +had told were back, too, on angel wings, and made sweet music in that +chamber. + +The children were lingering on the beach when Edward came that day. He +could hear them singing the songs Margaret had taught them. They +wondered that he came alone. + +"See," cried one of the boys, running to meet him and holding a tiny +shell in his hand,--"see what we have found in this strange little +shell. Is it not beautiful!" + +Edward took the dwarfed, misshapen thing and lo! it held a beauteous +pearl. + +_O little sister mine, let me look into your eyes and read an +inspiration there; let me hold your thin white hand and know the +strength of a philosophy more beautiful than human knowledge teaches; +let me see in your dear, patient little face and hear in your gentle +voice the untold valor of your suffering life. Come, little sister, let +me fold you in my arms and have you ever with me, that in the glory of +your faith and love I may walk the paths of wisdom and of peace._ + +1887. + + * * * * * + +The Springtime. + + + + +THE SPRINGTIME. + + +A child once said to his grandsire: "Gran'pa, what do the flowers mean +when they talk to the old oak-tree about death? I hear them talking +every day, but I cannot understand; it is all very strange." + +The grandsire bade the child think no more of these things; the flowers +were foolish prattlers,--what right had they to put such notions into a +child's head? But the child did not do his grandsire's bidding; he loved +the flowers and the trees, and he went each day to hear them talk. + +It seems that the little vine down by the stone-wall had overheard the +south wind say to the rosebush: "You are a proud, imperious beauty now, +and will not listen to my suit; but wait till my boisterous brother +comes from the North,--then you will droop and wither and die, all +because you would not listen to me and fly with me to my home by the +Southern sea." + +These words set the little vine to thinking; and when she had thought +for a long time she spoke to the daisy about it, and the daisy called in +the violet, and the three little ones had a very serious conference; +but, having talked it all over, they came to the conclusion that it was +as much of a mystery as ever. The old oak-tree saw them. + +"You little folks seem very much puzzled about something," said the old +oak-tree. + +"I heard the south wind tell the rosebush that she would die," exclaimed +the vine, "and we do not understand what it is. Can you tell us what it +is to die?" + +The old oak-tree smiled sadly. + +"I do not call it death," said the old oak-tree; "I call it sleep,--a +long, restful, refreshing sleep." + +"How does it feel?" inquired the daisy, looking very full of +astonishment and anxiety. + +"You must know," said the old oak-tree, "that after many, many days we +all have had such merry times and have bloomed so long and drunk so +heartily of the dew and sunshine and eaten so much of the goodness of +the earth that we feel very weary and we long for repose. Then a great +wind comes out of the north, and we shiver in its icy blast. The +sunshine goes away, and there is no dew for us nor any nourishment in +the earth, and we are glad to go to sleep." + +"Mercy on me!" cried the vine, "I shall not like that at all! What, +leave this smiling meadow and all the pleasant grass and singing bees +and frolicsome butterflies? No, old oak-tree, I would never go to sleep; +I much prefer sporting with the winds and playing with my little +friends, the daisy and the violet." + +"And I," said the violet, "I think it would be dreadful to go to sleep. +What if we never should wake up again!" + +The suggestion struck the others dumb with terror,--all but the old +oak-tree. + +"Have no fear of that," said the old oak-tree, "for you are sure to +awaken again, and when you have awakened the new life will be sweeter +and happier than the old." + +"What nonsense!" cried the thistle. "You children shouldn't believe a +word of it. When you go to sleep you die, and when you die there's the +last of you!" + +The old oak-tree reproved the thistle; but the thistle maintained his +abominable heresy so stoutly that the little vine and the daisy and the +violet were quite at a loss to know which of the two to believe,--the +old oak-tree or the thistle. + +The child heard it all and was sorely puzzled. What was this death, this +mysterious sleep? Would it come upon him, the child? And after he had +slept awhile would he awaken? His grandsire would not tell him of these +things; perhaps his grandsire did not know. + +It was a long, long summer, full of sunshine and bird-music, and the +meadow was like a garden, and the old oak-tree looked down upon the +grass and flowers and saw that no evil befell them. A long, long +play-day it was to the little vine, the daisy, and the violet. The +crickets and the grasshoppers and the bumblebees joined in the sport, +and romped and made music till it seemed like an endless carnival. Only +every now and then the vine and her little flower friends talked with +the old oak-tree about that strange sleep and the promised awakening, +and the thistle scoffed at the old oak-tree's cheering words. The child +was there and heard it all. + +One day the great wind came out of the north. Hurry-scurry! back to +their warm homes in the earth and under the old stone-wall scampered the +crickets and bumblebees to go to sleep. Whirr, whirr! Oh, but how +piercing the great wind was; how different from his amiable brother who +had travelled all the way from the Southern sea to kiss the flowers and +woo the rose! + +"Well, this is the last of us!" exclaimed the thistle; "we're going to +die, and that's the end of it all!" + +"No, no," cried the old oak-tree; "we shall not die; we are going to +sleep. Here, take my leaves, little flowers, and you shall sleep warm +under them. Then, when you awaken, you shall see how much sweeter and +happier the new life is." + +The little ones were very weary indeed. The promised sleep came very +gratefully. + +"We would not be so willing to go to sleep if we thought we should not +awaken," said the violet. + +So the little ones went to sleep. The little vine was the last of all to +sink to her slumbers; she nodded in the wind and tried to keep awake +till she saw the old oak-tree close his eyes, but her efforts were vain; +she nodded and nodded, and bowed her slender form against the old +stone-wall, till finally she, too, had sunk into repose. And then the +old oak-tree stretched his weary limbs and gave a last look at the +sullen sky and at the slumbering little ones at his feet; and with that, +the old oak-tree fell asleep too. + +The child saw all these things, and he wanted to ask his grandsire about +them, but his grandsire would not tell him of them; perhaps his +grandsire did not know. + +The child saw the storm-king come down from the hills and ride furiously +over the meadows and over the forest and over the town. The snow fell +everywhere, and the north wind played solemn music in the chimneys. The +storm-king put the brook to bed, and threw a great mantle of snow over +him; and the brook that had romped and prattled all the summer and told +pretty tales to the grass and flowers,--the brook went to sleep too. With +all his fierceness and bluster, the storm-king was very kind; he did not +awaken the old oak-tree and the slumbering flowers. The little vine lay +under the fleecy snow against the old stone-wall and slept peacefully, +and so did the violet and the daisy. Only the wicked old thistle +thrashed about in his sleep as if he dreamt bad dreams, which, all will +allow, was no more than he deserved. + +All through that winter--and it seemed very long--the child thought of +the flowers and the vine and the old oak-tree, and wondered whether in +the springtime they would awaken from their sleep; and he wished for the +springtime to come. And at last the springtime came. One day the +sunbeams fluttered down from the sky and danced all over the meadow. + +"Wake up, little friends!" cried the sunbeams,--"wake up, for it is the +springtime!" + +The brook was the first to respond. So eager, so fresh, so exuberant was +he after his long winter sleep, that he leaped from his bed and +frolicked all over the meadow and played all sorts of curious antics. +Then a little bluebird was seen in the hedge one morning. He was +calling to the violet. + +"Wake up, little violet," called the bluebird. "Have I come all this +distance to find you sleeping? Wake up; it is the springtime!" + +That pretty little voice awakened the violet, of course. + +"Oh, how sweetly I have slept!" cried the violet; "how happy this new +life is! Welcome, dear friends!" + +And presently the daisy awakened, fresh and beautiful, and then the +little vine, and, last of all, the old oak-tree. The meadow was green, +and all around there were the music, the fragrance, the new, sweet life +of the springtime. + +"I slept horribly," growled the thistle. "I had bad dreams. It was +sleep, after all, but it ought to have been death." + +The thistle never complained again; for just then a four-footed monster +stalked through the meadow and plucked and ate the thistle and then +stalked gloomily away; which was the last of the sceptical +thistle,--truly a most miserable end! + +"You said the truth, dear old oak-tree!" cried the little vine. "It was +not death,--it was only a sleep, a sweet, refreshing sleep, and this +awakening is very beautiful." + +They all said so,--the daisy, the violet, the oak-tree, the crickets, +the bees, and all the things and creatures of the field and forest that +had awakened from their long sleep to swell the beauty and the glory of +the springtime. And they talked with the child, and the child heard +them. And although the grandsire never spoke to the child about these +things, the child learned from the flowers and trees a lesson of the +springtime which perhaps the grandsire never knew. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Rodolph and his King. + + + + +RODOLPH AND HIS KING. + + +"Tell me, Father," said the child at Rodolph's knee,--"tell me of the +king." + +"There is no king, my child," said Rodolph. "What you have heard are old +women's tales. Do not believe them, for there is no king." + +"But why, then," queried the child, "do all the people praise and call +on him; why do the birds sing of the king; and why do the brooks always +prattle his name, as they dance from the hills to the sea?" + +"Nay," answered Rodolph, "you imagine these things; there is no king. +Believe me, child, there is no king." + +So spake Rodolph; but scarcely had he uttered the words when the cricket +in the chimney corner chirped loudly, and his shrill notes seemed to +say: "The king--the king." Rodolph could hardly believe his ears. How +had the cricket learned to chirp these words? It was beyond all +understanding. But still the cricket chirped, and still his musical +monotone seemed to say, "The king--the king," until, with an angry +frown, Rodolph strode from his house, leaving the child to hear the +cricket's song alone. + +But there were other voices to remind Rodolph of the king. The sparrows +were fluttering under the eaves, and they twittered noisily as Rodolph +strode along, "The king, king, king!" "The king, king, king," twittered +the sparrows, and their little tones were full of gladness and praise. + +A thrush sat in the hedge, and she was singing her morning song. It was +a hymn of praise,--how beautiful it was! "The king--the king--the king," +sang the thrush, and she sang, too, of his goodness,--it was a wondrous +song, and it was all about the king. + +The doves cooed in the elm-trees. "Sing to us!" cried their little ones, +stretching out their pretty heads from the nests. Then the doves nestled +hard by and murmured lullabies, and the lullabies were of the king who +watched over and protected even the little birds in their nests. + +Rodolph heard these things, and they filled him with anger. + +"It is a lie!" muttered Rodolph; and in great petulance he came to the +brook. + +How noisy and romping the brook was; how capricious, how playful, how +furtive! And how he called to the willows and prattled to the listening +grass as he scampered on his way. But Rodolph turned aside and his face +grew darker. He did not like the voice of the brook; for, lo! just as +the cricket had chirped and the birds had sung, so did this brook murmur +and prattle and sing ever of the king, the king, the king. + +So, always after that, wherever Rodolph went, he heard voices that told +him of the king; yes, even in their quiet, humble way, the flowers +seemed to whisper the king's name, and every breeze that fanned his brow +had a tale to tell of the king and his goodness. + +"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "They all conspire to plague me! +There is no king--there is no king!" + +Once he stood by the sea and saw a mighty ship go sailing by. The waves +plashed on the shore and told stories to the pebbles and the sands. +Rodolph heard their thousand voices, and he heard them telling of the +king. + +Then a great storm came upon the sea, a tempest such as never before had +been seen. The waves dashed mountain-high and overwhelmed the ship, and +the giant voices of the winds and waves cried of the king, the king! The +sailors strove in agony till all seemed lost. Then, when they could do +no more, they stretched out their hands and called upon the king to save +them,--the king, the king, the king! + +Rodolph saw the tempest subside. The angry winds were lulled, and the +mountain waves sank into sleep, and the ship came safely into port. Then +the sailors sang a hymn of praise, and the hymn was of the king and to +the king. + +"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "It is a lie; there is no king!" + +Yet everywhere he went he heard always of the king; the king's name and +the king's praises were on every tongue; aye, and the things that had no +voices seemed to wear the king's name written upon them, until Rodolph +neither saw nor heard anything that did not mind him of the king. + +Then, in great anger, Rodolph said: "I will go to the mountain-tops; +there I shall find no birds, nor trees, nor brooks, nor flowers to prate +of a monarch no one has ever seen. There shall there be no sea to vex me +with its murmurings, nor any human voice to displease me with its +superstitions." + +So Rodolph went to the mountains, and he scaled the loftiest pinnacle, +hoping that there at last he might hear no more of that king whom none +had ever seen. And as he stood upon the pinnacle, what a mighty panorama +was spread before him, and what a mighty anthem swelled upon his ears! +The peopled plains, with their songs and murmurings, lay far below; on +every side the mountain peaks loomed up in snowy grandeur; and overhead +he saw the sky, blue, cold, and cloudless, from horizon to horizon. + +What voice was that which spoke in Rodolph's bosom then as Rodolph's +eyes beheld this revelation? + +"There is a king!" said the voice. "The king lives, and this is his +abiding-place!" + +And how did Rodolph's heart stand still when he felt Silence proclaim +the king,--not in tones of thunder, as the tempest had proclaimed him, +nor in the singing voices of the birds and brooks, but so swiftly, so +surely, so grandly, that Rodolph's soul was filled with awe ineffable. + +Then Rodolph cried: "There is a king, and I acknowledge him! Henceforth +my voice shall swell the songs of all in earth and air and sea that know +and praise his name!" + +So Rodolph went to his home. He heard the cricket singing of the king; +yes, and the sparrows under the eaves, the thrush in the hedge, the +doves in the elms, and the brook, too, all singing of the king; and +Rodolph's heart was gladdened by their music. And all the earth and the +things of the earth seemed more beautiful to Rodolph now that he +believed in the king; and to the song all Nature sang Rodolph's voice +and Rodolph's heart made harmonious response. + +"There _is_ a king, my child," said Rodolph to his little one. "Together +let us sing to him, for he is _our_ king, and his goodness abideth +forever and forever." + +1885 + + * * * * * + +The Hampshire Hills. + + + + +THE HAMPSHIRE HILLS. + + +One afternoon many years ago two little brothers named Seth and Abner +were playing in the orchard. They were not troubled with the heat of the +August day, for a soft, cool wind came up from the river in the valley +over yonder and fanned their red cheeks and played all kinds of pranks +with their tangled curls. All about them was the hum of bees, the song +of birds, the smell of clover, and the merry music of the crickets. +Their little dog Fido chased them through the high, waving grass, and +rolled with them under the trees, and barked himself hoarse in his +attempt to keep pace with their laughter. Wearied at length, they lay +beneath the bellflower-tree and looked off at the Hampshire hills, and +wondered if the time ever would come when they should go out into the +world beyond those hills and be great, noisy men. Fido did not +understand it at all. He lolled in the grass, cooling his tongue on the +clover bloom, and puzzling his brain to know why his little masters were +so quiet all at once. + +"I wish I were a man," said Abner, ruefully. "I want to be somebody and +do something. It is very hard to be a little boy so long and to have no +companions but little boys and girls, to see nothing but these same old +trees and this same high grass, and to hear nothing but the same +bird-songs from one day to another." + +"That is true," said Seth. "I, too, am very tired of being a little boy, +and I long to go out into the world and be a man like my gran'pa or my +father or my uncles. With nothing to look at but those distant hills and +the river in the valley, my eyes are wearied; and I shall be very happy +when I am big enough to leave this stupid place." + +Had Fido understood their words he would have chided them, for the +little dog loved his home and had no thought of any other pleasure than +romping through the orchard and playing with his little masters all the +day. But Fido did not understand them. + +The clover bloom heard them with sadness. Had they but listened in turn +they would have heard the clover saying softly: "Stay with me while you +may, little boys; trample me with your merry feet; let me feel the +imprint of your curly heads and kiss the sunburn on your little cheeks. +Love me while you may, for when you go away you never will come back." + +The bellflower-tree heard them, too, and she waved her great, strong +branches as if she would caress the impatient little lads, and she +whispered: "Do not think of leaving me: you are children, and you know +nothing of the world beyond those distant hills. It is full of trouble +and care and sorrow; abide here in this quiet spot till you are prepared +to meet the vexations of that outer world. We are for you,--we trees and +grass and birds and bees and flowers. Abide with us, and learn the +wisdom we teach." + +The cricket in the raspberry-hedge heard them, and she chirped, oh! so +sadly: "You will go out into the world and leave us and never think of +us again till it is too late to return. Open your ears, little boys, and +hear my song of contentment." + +So spake the clover bloom and the bellflower-tree and the cricket; and +in like manner the robin that nested in the linden over yonder, and the +big bumblebee that lived in the hole under the pasture gate, and the +butterfly and the wild rose pleaded with them, each in his own way; but +the little boys did not heed them, so eager were their desires to go +into and mingle with the great world beyond those distant hills. + +Many years went by; and at last Seth and Abner grew to manhood, and the +time was come when they were to go into the world and be brave, strong +men. Fido had been dead a long time. They had made him a grave under the +bellflower-tree,--yes, just where he had romped with the two little boys +that August afternoon Fido lay sleeping amid the humming of the bees and +the perfume of the clover. But Seth and Abner did not think of Fido now, +nor did they give even a passing thought to any of their old +friends,--the bellflower-tree, the clover, the cricket, and the robin. +Their hearts beat with exultation. They were men, and they were going +beyond the hills to know and try the world. + +They were equipped for that struggle, not in a vain, frivolous way, but +as good and brave young men should be. A gentle mother had counselled +them, a prudent father had advised them, and they had gathered from the +sweet things of Nature much of that wisdom before which all knowledge is +as nothing. So they were fortified. They went beyond the hills and came +into the West. How great and busy was the world,--how great and busy it +was here in the West! What a rush and noise and turmoil and seething and +surging, and how keenly did the brothers have to watch and struggle for +vantage ground. Withal, they prospered; the counsel of the mother, the +advice of the father, the wisdom of the grass and flowers and trees, +were much to them, and they prospered. Honor and riches came to them, +and they were happy. But amid it all, how seldom they thought of the +little home among the circling hills where they had learned the first +sweet lessons of life! + +And now they were old and gray. They lived in splendid mansions, and all +people paid them honor. + +One August day a grim messenger stood in Seth's presence and beckoned to +him. + +"Who are you?" cried Seth. "What strange power have you over me that the +very sight of you chills my blood and stays the beating of my heart?" + +Then the messenger threw aside his mask, and Seth saw that he was Death. +Seth made no outcry; he knew what the summons meant, and he was content. +But he sent for Abner. + +And when Abner came, Seth was stretched upon his bed, and there was a +strange look in his eyes and a flush upon his cheeks, as though a fatal +fever had laid hold on him. + +"You shall not die!" cried Abner, and he threw himself about his +brother's neck and wept. + +But Seth bade Abner cease his outcry. "Sit here by my bedside and talk +with me," said he, "and let us speak of the Hampshire hills." + +A great wonder overcame Abner. With reverence he listened, and as he +listened, a sweet peace seemed to steal into his soul. + +"I am prepared for Death," said Seth, "and I will go with Death this +day. Let us talk of our childhood now, for, after all the battle with +this great world, it is pleasant to think and speak of our boyhood +among the Hampshire hills." + +"Say on, dear brother," said Abner. + +"I am thinking of an August day long ago," said Seth, solemnly and +softly. "It was _so very_ long ago, and yet it seems only yesterday. We +were in the orchard together, under the bellflower-tree, and our little +dog--" + +"Fido," said Abner, remembering it all, as the years came back. + +"Fido and you and I, under the bellflower-tree," said Seth. "How we had +played, and how weary we were, and how cool the grass was, and how sweet +was the fragrance of the flowers! Can you remember it, brother?" + +"Oh, yes," replied Abner, "and I remember how we lay among the clover +and looked off at the distant hills and wondered of the world beyond." + +"And amid our wonderings and longings," said Seth, "how the old +bellflower-tree seemed to stretch her kind arms down to us as if she +would hold us away from that world beyond the hills." + +"And now I can remember that the clover whispered to us, and the +cricket in the raspberry-hedge sang to us of contentment," said Abner. + +"The robin, too, carolled in the linden." + +"It is very sweet to remember it now," said Seth. "How blue and hazy the +hills looked; how cool the breeze blew up from the river; how like a +silver lake the old pickerel pond sweltered under the summer sun over +beyond the pasture and broom-corn, and how merry was the music of the +birds and bees!" + +So these old men, who had been little boys together, talked of the +August afternoon when with Fido they had romped in the orchard and +rested beneath the bellflower-tree. And Seth's voice grew fainter, and +his eyes were, oh! so dim; but to the very last he spoke of the dear old +days and the orchard and the clover and the Hampshire hills. And when +Seth fell asleep forever, Abner kissed his brother's lips and knelt at +the bedside and said the prayer his mother had taught him. + +In the street without there was the noise of passing carts, the cries of +trades-people, and all the bustle of a great and busy city; but, +looking upon Seth's dear, dead face, Abner could hear only the music +voices of birds and crickets and summer winds as he had heard them with +Seth when they were little boys together, back among the Hampshire +hills. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Ezra's Thanksgivin' out West. + + + + +EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST. + + +Ezra had written a letter to the home folks, and in it he had complained +that never before had he spent such a weary, lonesome day as this +Thanksgiving day had been. Having finished this letter, he sat for a +long time gazing idly into the open fire that snapped cinders all over +the hearthstone and sent its red forks dancing up the chimney to join +the winds that frolicked and gambolled across the Kansas prairies that +raw November night. It had rained hard all day, and was cold; and +although the open fire made every honest effort to be cheerful, Ezra, as +he sat in front of it in the wooden rocker and looked down into the +glowing embers, experienced a dreadful feeling of loneliness and +homesickness. + +"I'm sick o' Kansas," said Ezra to himself. "Here I've been in this +plaguey country for goin' on a year, and--yes, I'm sick of it, powerful +sick of it. What a miser'ble Thanksgivin' this has been! They don't know +what Thanksgivin' is out this way. I wish I was back in ol' +Mass'chusetts--that's the country for _me_, and they hev the kind o' +Thanksgivin' I like!" + +Musing in this strain, while the rain went patter-patter on the +window-panes, Ezra saw a strange sight in the fireplace,--yes, right +among the embers and the crackling flames Ezra saw a strange, beautiful +picture unfold and spread itself out like a panorama. + +"How very wonderful!" murmured the young man. Yet he did not take his +eyes away, for the picture soothed him and he loved to look upon it. + +"It is a pictur' of long ago," said Ezra, softly. "I had like to forgot +it, but now it comes back to me as nat'ral-like as an ol' friend. An' I +seem to be a part of it, an' the feelin' of that time comes back with +the pictur', too." + +Ezra did not stir. His head rested upon his hand, and his eyes were +fixed upon the shadows in the firelight. + +"It is a pictur' of the ol' home," said Ezra to himself. "I am back +there in Belchertown, with the Holyoke hills up north an' the Berkshire +mountains a loomin' up gray an' misty-like in the western horizon. Seems +as if it wuz early mornin'; everything is still, and it is so cold when +we boys crawl out o' bed that, if it wuzn't Thanksgivin' mornin', we'd +crawl back again an' wait for Mother to call us. But it _is_ +Thanksgivin' mornin', an' we're goin' skatin' down on the pond. The +squealin' o' the pigs has told us it is five o'clock, and we must hurry; +we're goin' to call by for the Dickerson boys an' Hiram Peabody, an' +we've got to hyper! Brother Amos gets on about half o' my clo'es, and I +get on 'bout half o' his, but it's all the same; they are stout, warm +clo'es, and they're big enough to fit any of us boys,--Mother looked out +for that when she made 'em. When we go downstairs we find the girls +there, all bundled up nice an' warm,--Mary an' Helen an' Cousin Irene. +They're goin' with us, an' we all start out tiptoe and quiet-like so's +not to wake up the ol' folks. The ground is frozen hard; we stub our +toes on the frozen ruts in the road. When we come to the minister's +house, Laura is standin' on the front stoop, a-waitin' for us. Laura is +the minister's daughter. She's a friend o' Sister Helen's--pretty as a +dagerr'otype, an' gentle-like and tender. Laura lets me carry her +skates, an' I'm glad of it, although I have my hands full already with +the lantern, the hockies, and the rest. Hiram Peabody keeps us waitin', +for he has overslept himself, an' when he comes trottin' out at last the +girls make fun of him,--all except Sister Mary, an' she sort o' sticks +up for Hiram, an' we're all so 'cute we kind o' calc'late we know the +reason why. + +"And now," said Ezra, softly, "the pictur' changes; seems as if I could +see the pond. The ice is like a black lookin'-glass, and Hiram Peabody +slips up the first thing, an' down he comes lickety-split, an' we all +laugh,--except Sister Mary, an' _she_ says it is very imp'lite to laugh +at other folks' misfortunes. Ough! how cold it is, and how my fingers +ache with the frost when I take off my mittens to strap on Laura's +skates! But, oh, how my cheeks burn! And how careful I am not to hurt +Laura, an' how I ask her if that's 'tight enough,' an' how she tells me +'jist a little tighter,' and how we two keep foolin' along till the +others hev gone an' we are left alone! An' how quick I get my _own_ +skates strapped on,--none o' your new-fangled skates with springs an' +plates an' clamps an' such, but honest, ol'-fashioned wooden ones with +steel runners that curl up over my toes an' have a bright brass button +on the end! How I strap 'em and lash 'em and buckle 'em on! An' Laura +waits for me an' tells me to be sure to get 'em on tight enough,--why, +bless me! after I once got 'em strapped on, if them skates hed come off, +the feet wud ha' come with 'em! An' now away we go,--Laura an' me. +Around the bend--near the medder where Si Barker's dog killed a +woodchuck last summer--we meet the rest. We forget all about the cold. +We run races an' play snap the whip, an' cut all sorts o' didoes, an' we +never mind the pick'rel weed that is froze in on the ice an' trips us up +every time we cut the outside edge; an' then we boys jump over the +air-holes, an' the girls stan' by an' scream an' tell us they know we're +agoin' to drownd ourselves. So the hours go, an' it is sun-up at last, +an' Sister Helen says we must be gettin' home. When we take our skates +off, our feet feel as if they were wood. Laura has lost her tippet; I +lend her mine, and she kind o' blushes. The old pond seems glad to have +us go, and the fire-hangbird's nest in the willer-tree waves us good-by. +Laura promises to come over to our house in the evenin', and so we break +up. + +"Seems now," continued Ezra, musingly,--"seems now as if I could see us +all at breakfast. The race on the pond has made us hungry, and Mother +says she never knew anybody else's boys that had such capac'ties as +hers. It is the Yankee Thanksgivin' breakfast,--sausages an' fried +potatoes, an' buckwheat cakes an' syrup,--maple syrup, mind ye, for +Father has his own sugar bush, and there was a big run o' sap last +season. Mother says, 'Ezry an' Amos, won't you never get through eatin'? +We want to clear off the table, for there's pies to make, an' nuts to +crack, and laws sakes alive! the turkey's got to be stuffed yit!' Then +how we all fly round! Mother sends Helen up into the attic to get a +squash while Mary's makin' the pie-crust. Amos an' I crack the +walnuts,--they call 'em hickory nuts out in this pesky country of +sagebrush and pasture land. The walnuts are hard, and it's all we can +do to crack 'em. Ev'ry once'n a while one on 'em slips outer our +fingers an' goes dancin' over the floor or flies into the pan Helen is +squeezin' pumpkin into through the col'nder. Helen says we're shif'less +an' good for nothin' but frivolin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the +walnuts so's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so's not to be +all jammed to pieces like the walnuts was down at the party at the +Peasleys' last winter. An' now here comes Tryphena Foster, with her +gingham gown an' muslin apron on; her folks have gone up to Amherst for +Thanksgivin', an' Tryphena has come over to help our folks get dinner. +She thinks a great deal o' Mother, 'cause Mother teaches her +Sunday-school class an' says Tryphena oughter marry a missionary. There +is bustle everywhere, the rattle uv pans an' the clatter of dishes; an' +the new kitch'n stove begins to warm up an' git red, till Helen loses +her wits an' is flustered, an' sez she never could git the hang o' that +stove's dampers. + +"An' now," murmured Ezra, gently, as a tone of deeper reverence crept +into his voice, "I can see Father sittin' all by himself in the parlor. +Father's hair is very gray, and there are wrinkles on his honest old +face. He is lookin' through the winder at the Holyoke hills over yonder, +and I can guess he's thinkin' of the time when he wuz a boy like me an' +Amos, an' useter climb over them hills an' kill rattlesnakes an' hunt +partridges. Or doesn't his eyes quite reach the Holyoke hills? Do they +fall kind o' lovingly but sadly on the little buryin' ground jest beyond +the village? Ah, Father knows that spot, an' he loves it, too, for there +are treasures there whose memory he wouldn't swap for all the world +could give. So, while there is a kind o' mist in Father's eyes, I can +see he is dreamin'-like of sweet an' tender things, and a-communin' with +memory,--hearin' voices I never heard an' feelin' the tech of hands I +never pressed; an' seein' Father's peaceful face I find it hard to think +of a Thanksgivin' sweeter than Father's is. + +"The pictur' in the firelight changes now," said Ezra, "an' seems as if +I wuz in the old frame meetin'-house. The meetin'-house is on the hill, +and meetin' begins at half pas' ten. Our pew is well up in front,--seems +as if I could see it now. It has a long red cushion on the seat, and in +the hymn-book rack there is a Bible an' a couple of Psalmodies. We walk +up the aisle slow, and Mother goes in first; then comes Mary, then me, +then Helen, then Amos, and then Father. Father thinks it is jest as well +to have one o' the girls set in between me an' Amos. The meetin'-house +is full, for everybody goes to meetin' Thanksgivin' day. The minister +reads the proclamation an' makes a prayer, an' then he gives out a +psalm, an' we all stan' up an' turn 'round an' join the choir. Sam +Merritt has come up from Palmer to spend Thanksgivin' with the ol' +folks, an' he is singin' tenor to-day in his ol' place in the choir. +Some folks say he sings wonderful well, but _I_ don't like Sam's voice. +Laura sings soprano in the choir, and Sam stands next to her an' holds +the book. + +"Seems as if I could hear the minister's voice, full of earnestness an' +melody, comin' from way up in his little round pulpit. He is tellin' us +why we should be thankful, an', as he quotes Scriptur' an' Dr. Watts, we +boys wonder how anybody can remember so much of the Bible. Then I get +nervous and worried. Seems to me the minister was never comin' to +lastly, and I find myself wonderin' whether Laura is listenin' to what +the preachin' is about, or is writin' notes to Sam Merritt in the back +of the tune book. I get thirsty, too, and I fidget about till Father +looks at me, and Mother nudges Helen, and Helen passes it along to me +with interest. + +"An' then," continues Ezra in his revery, "when the last hymn is given +out an' we stan' up agin an' join the choir, I am glad to see that Laura +is singin' outer the book with Miss Hubbard, the alto. An' goin' out o' +meetin' I kind of edge up to Laura and ask her if I kin have the +pleasure of seein' her home. + +"An' now we boys all go out on the Common to play ball. The Enfield boys +have come over, and, as all the Hampshire county folks know, they are +tough fellers to beat. Gorham Polly keeps tally, because he has got the +newest jack-knife,--oh, how slick it whittles the old broom-handle +Gorham picked up in Packard's store an' brought along jest to keep tally +on! It is a great game of ball; the bats are broad and light, and the +ball is small and soft. But the Enfield boys beat us at last; leastwise +they make 70 tallies to our 58, when Heman Fitts knocks the ball over +into Aunt Dorcas Eastman's yard, and Aunt Dorcas comes out an' picks up +the ball an' takes it into the house, an' we have to stop playin'. Then +Phineas Owens allows he can flop any boy in Belchertown, an' Moses Baker +takes him up, an' they wrassle like two tartars, till at last Moses +tuckers Phineas out an' downs him as slick as a whistle. + +"Then we all go home, for Thanksgivin' dinner is ready. Two long tables +have been made into one, and one of the big tablecloths Gran'ma had when +she set up housekeepin' is spread over 'em both. We all set +round,--Father, Mother, Aunt Lydia Holbrook, Uncle Jason, Mary, Helen, +Tryphena Foster, Amos, and me. How big an' brown the turkey is, and how +good it smells! There are bounteous dishes of mashed potato, turnip, an' +squash, and the celery is very white and cold, the biscuits are light +an' hot, and the stewed cranberries are red as Laura's cheeks. Amos and +I get the drumsticks; Mary wants the wish-bone to put over the door for +Hiram, but Helen gets it. Poor Mary, she always _did_ have to give up +to 'rushin' Helen,' as we call her. The pies,--oh, what pies mother +makes; no dyspepsia in 'em, but good-nature an' good health an' +hospitality! Pumpkin pies, mince an' apple too, and then a big dish of +pippins an' russets an' bellflowers, an', last of all, walnuts with +cider from the Zebrina Dickerson farm! I tell ye, there's a Thanksgivin' +dinner for ye! that's what we get in old Belchertown; an' that's the +kind of livin' that makes the Yankees so all-fired good an' smart. + +"But the best of all," said Ezra, very softly to himself,--"oh, yes, +the best scene in all the pictur' is when evenin' comes, when the +lamps are lit in the parlor, when the neighbors come in, and when +there is music an' singin' an' games. An' it's this part o' the +pictur' that makes me homesick now and fills my heart with a longin' I +never had before; an' yet it sort o' mellows an' comforts me, too. +Miss Serena Cadwell, whose beau was killed in the war, plays on the +melodeon, and we all sing,--all on us, men, womenfolks, an' children. +Sam Merritt is there, an' he sings a tenor song about love. The women +sort of whisper round that he's goin' to be married to a Palmer lady +nex' spring, an' I think to myself I never heard better singin' than +Sam's. Then we play games,--proverbs, buzz, clap-in-clap-out, +copenhagen, fox-an'-geese, button-button-who's-got-the-button, +spin-the-platter, go-to-Jerusalem, my-ship's-come-in, and all the +rest. The ol' folks play with the young folks just as nat'ral as can +be; and we all laugh when Deacon Hosea Cowles hez to measure six yards +of love ribbon with Miss Hepsy Newton, and cut each yard with a kiss; +for the deacon hez been sort o' purrin' round Miss Hepsy for goin' on +two years. Then, aft'r a while, when Mary an' Helen bring in the +cookies, nutcakes, cider, an' apples, Mother says: 'I don't b'lieve +we're goin' to hev enough apples to go round; Ezry, I guess I'll have +to get you to go down-cellar for some more.' Then I says: 'All right, +Mother, I'll go, providin' some one'll go along an' hold the candle.' +An' when I say this I look right at Laura, an' she blushes. Then +Helen, jest for meanness, says: 'Ezry, I s'pose you aint willin' to +have your fav'rite sister go down-cellar with you an' catch her death +o' cold?' But Mary, who hez been showin' Hiram Peabody the phot'graph +album for more 'n an hour, comes to the rescue an' makes Laura take +the candle, and she shows Laura how to hold it so it won't go out. + +"The cellar is warm an' dark. There are cobwebs all between the rafters +an' everywhere else except on the shelves where Mother keeps the butter +an' eggs an' other things that would freeze in the butt'ry upstairs. The +apples are in bar'ls up against the wall, near the potater-bin. How +fresh an' sweet they smell! Laura thinks she sees a mouse, an' she +trembles an' wants to jump up on the pork bar'l, but I tell her that +there sha'n't no mouse hurt her while I'm round; and I mean it, too, for +the sight of Laura a-tremblin' makes me as strong as one of Father's +steers. 'What kind of apples do you like best, Ezry?' asks +Laura,--'russets or greenin's or crow-eggs or bellflowers or Baldwins or +pippins?' 'I like the Baldwins best,' says I, ''coz they've got red +cheeks just like yours.' 'Why, Ezry Thompson! how you talk!' says Laura. +'You oughter be ashamed of yourself!' But when I get the dish filled up +with apples there aint a Baldwin in all the lot that can compare with +the bright red of Laura's cheeks. An' Laura knows it, too, an' she sees +the mouse agin, an' screams, and then the candle goes out, and we are in +a dreadful stew. But I, bein' almost a man, contrive to bear up under +it, and knowin' she is an orph'n, I comfort an' encourage Laura the best +I know how, and we are almost upstairs when Mother comes to the door and +wants to know what has kep' us so long. Jest as if Mother doesn't know! +Of course she does; an' when Mother kisses Laura good-by that night +there is in the act a tenderness that speaks more sweetly than even +Mother's words. + +"It is so like Mother," mused Ezra; "so like her with her gentleness an' +clingin' love. Hers is the sweetest picture of all, and hers the best +love." + +Dream on, Ezra; dream of the old home with its dear ones, its holy +influences, and its precious inspiration,--mother. Dream on in the +far-away firelight; and as the angel hand of memory unfolds these sacred +visions, with thee and them shall abide, like a Divine comforter, the +spirit of thanksgiving. + +1885 + + * * * * * + +Ludwig and Eloise. + + + + +LUDWIG AND ELOISE. + + +Once upon a time there were two youths named Herman and Ludwig; and they +both loved Eloise, the daughter of the old burgomaster. Now, the old +burgomaster was very rich, and having no child but Eloise, he was +anxious that she should be well married and settled in life. "For," said +he, "death is likely to come to me at any time: I am old and feeble, and +I want to see my child sheltered by another's love before I am done with +earth forever." + +Eloise was much beloved by all the youth in the village, and there was +not one who would not gladly have taken her to wife; but none loved her +so much as did Herman and Ludwig. Nor did Eloise care for any but Herman +and Ludwig, and she loved Herman. The burgomaster said: "Choose whom you +will--I care not! So long as he be honest I will have him for a son and +thank Heaven for him." + +So Eloise chose Herman, and all said she chose wisely; for Herman was +young and handsome, and by his valor had won distinction in the army, +and had thrice been complimented by the general. So when the brave young +captain led Eloise to the altar there was great rejoicing in the +village. The beaux, forgetting their disappointments, and the maidens, +seeing the cause of all their jealousy removed, made merry together; and +it was said that never had there been in the history of the province an +event so joyous as was the wedding of Herman and Eloise. + +But in all the Village there was one aching heart. Ludwig, the young +musician, saw with quiet despair the maiden he loved go to the altar +with another. He had known Eloise from childhood, and he could not say +when his love of her began, it was so very long ago; but now he knew his +heart was consumed by a hopeless passion. Once, at a village festival, +he had begun to speak to her of his love; but Eloise had placed her hand +kindly upon his lips and told him to say no further, for they had +always been and always would be brother and sister. So Ludwig never +spoke his love after that, and Eloise and he were as brother and sister; +but the love of her grew always within him, and he had no thought but of +her. + +And now, when Eloise and Herman were wed, Ludwig feigned that he had +received a message from a rich relative in a distant part of the kingdom +bidding him come thither, and Ludwig went from the village and was seen +there no more. + +When the burgomaster died all his possessions went to Herman and Eloise; +and they were accounted the richest folk in the province, and so good +and charitable were they that they were beloved by all. Meanwhile Herman +had risen to greatness in the army, for by his valorous exploits he had +become a general, and he was much endeared to the king. And Eloise and +Herman lived in a great castle in the midst of a beautiful park, and the +people came and paid them reverence there. + +And no one in all these years spoke of Ludwig. No one thought of him. +Ludwig was forgotten. And so the years went by. + +It came to pass, however, that from a far-distant province there spread +the fame of a musician so great that the king sent for him to visit the +court. No one knew the musician's name nor whence he came, for he lived +alone and would never speak of himself; but his music was so tender and +beautiful that it was called heart-music, and he himself was called the +Master. He was old and bowed with infirmities, but his music was always +of youth and love; it touched every heart with its simplicity and +pathos, and all wondered how this old and broken man could create so +much of tenderness and sweetness on these themes. + +But when the king sent for the Master to come to court the Master +returned him answer: "No, I am old and feeble. To leave my home would +weary me unto death. Let me die here as I have lived these long years, +weaving my music for hearts that need my solace." + +Then the people wondered. But the king was not angry; in pity he sent +the Master a purse of gold, and bade him come or not come, as he willed. +Such honor had never before been shown any subject in the kingdom, and +all the people were dumb with amazement. But the Master gave the purse +of gold to the poor of the village wherein he lived. + +In those days Herman died, full of honors and years, and there was a +great lamentation in the land, for Herman was beloved by all. And Eloise +wept unceasingly and would not be comforted. + +On the seventh day after Herman had been buried there came to the castle +in the park an aged and bowed man who carried in his white and trembling +hands a violin. His kindly face was deeply wrinkled, and a venerable +beard swept down upon his breast. He was weary and footsore, but he +heeded not the words of pity bestowed on him by all who beheld him +tottering on his way. He knocked boldly at the castle gate, and demanded +to be brought into the presence of Eloise. + +And Eloise said: "Bid him enter; perchance his music will comfort my +breaking heart." + +Then, when the old man had come into her presence, behold! he was the +Master,--ay, the Master whose fame was in every land, whose heart-music +was on every tongue. + +"If thou art indeed the Master," said Eloise, "let thy music be balm to +my chastened spirit." + +The Master said: "Ay, Eloise, I will comfort thee in thy sorrow, and thy +heart shall be stayed, and a great joy will come to thee." + +Then the Master drew his bow across the strings, and lo! forthwith there +arose such harmonies as Eloise had never heard before. Gently, +persuasively, they stole upon her senses and filled her soul with an +ecstasy of peace. + +"Is it Herman that speaks to me?" cried Eloise. "It is his voice I hear, +and it speaks to me of love. With thy heart-music, O Master, all the +sweetness of his life comes back to comfort me!" + +The Master did not pause; as he played, it seemed as if each tender word +and caress of Herman's life was stealing back on music's pinions to +soothe the wounds that death had made. + +"It is the song of our love-life," murmured Eloise. "How full of +memories it is--what tenderness and harmony--and, oh! what peace it +brings! But tell me, Master, what means this minor chord,--this +undertone of sadness and of pathos that flows like a deep, unfathomable +current throughout it all, and wailing, weaves itself about thy theme of +love and happiness with its weird and subtile influences?" + +Then the Master said: "It is that shade of sorrow and sacrifice, O +Eloise, that ever makes the picture of love more glorious. An undertone +of pathos has been _my_ part in all these years to symmetrize the love +of Herman and Eloise. The song of thy love is beautiful, and who shall +say it is not beautified by the sad undertone of Ludwig's broken heart?" + +"Thou art Ludwig!" cried Eloise. "Thou art Ludwig, who didst love me, +and hast come to comfort me who loved thee not!" + +The Master indeed was Ludwig; but when they hastened to do him homage he +heard them not, for with that last and sweetest heart-song his head sank +upon his breast, and he was dead. + + +1885. + + * * * * * + +Fido's Little Friend. + + + + +FIDO'S LITTLE FRIEND. + + +One morning in May Fido sat on the front porch, and he was deep in +thought. He was wondering whether the people who were moving into the +next house were as cross and unfeeling as the people who had just moved +out. He hoped they were not, for the people who had just moved out had +never treated Fido with that respect and kindness which Fido believed he +was on all occasions entitled to. + +"The new-comers must be nice folks," said Fido to himself, "for their +feather-beds look big and comfortable, and their baskets are all ample +and generous,--and see, there goes a bright gilt cage, and there is a +plump yellow canary bird in it! Oh, how glad Mrs. Tabby will be to see +it,--she so dotes on dear little canary birds!" + +Mrs. Tabby was the old brindled cat, who was the mother of the four +cunning little kittens in the hay-mow. Fido had heard her remark very +purringly only a few days ago that she longed for a canary bird, just to +amuse her little ones and give them correct musical ears. Honest old +Fido! There was no guile in his heart, and he never dreamed there was in +all the wide world such a sin as hypocrisy. So when Fido saw the little +canary bird in the cage he was glad for Mrs. Tabby's sake. + +While Fido sat on the front porch and watched the people moving into the +next house another pair of eyes peeped out of the old hollow maple over +the way. This was the red-headed woodpecker, who had a warm, cosey nest +far down in the old hollow maple, and in the nest there were four +beautiful eggs, of which the red-headed woodpecker was very proud. + +"Good-morning, Mr. Fido," called the red-headed woodpecker from her high +perch. "You are out bright and early to-day. And what do you think of +our new neighbors?" + +"Upon my word, I cannot tell," replied Fido, wagging his tail cheerily, +"for I am not acquainted with them. But I have been watching them +closely, and by to-day noon I think I shall be on speaking terms with +them,--provided, of course, they are not the cross, unkind people our +old neighbors were." + +"Oh, I do so hope there are no little boys in the family," sighed the +red-headed woodpecker; and then she added, with much determination and a +defiant toss of her beautiful head: "I hate little boys!" + +"Why so?" inquired Fido. "As for myself, I love little boys. I have +always found them the pleasantest of companions. Why do _you_ dislike +them?" + +"Because they are wicked," said the red-headed woodpecker. "They climb +trees and break up the nests we have worked so hard to build, and they +steal away our lovely eggs--oh, I hate little boys!" + +"Good little boys don't steal birds' eggs," said Fido, "and I'm sure I +never would play with a bad boy." + +But the red-headed woodpecker insisted that all little boys were wicked; +and, firm in this faith, she flew away to the linden over yonder, +where, she had heard the thrush say, there lived a family of fat white +grubs. The red-headed woodpecker wanted her breakfast, and it would have +been hard to find a more palatable morsel for her than a white fat grub. + +As for Fido, he sat on the front porch and watched the people moving in. +And as he watched them he thought of what the red-headed woodpecker had +said, and he wondered whether it could be possible for little boys to be +so cruel as to rob birds' nests. As he brooded over this sad +possibility, his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a +voice that fell pleasantly on his ears. + +"Goggie, goggie, goggie!" said the voice. "Tum here, 'ittle goggie--tum +here, goggie, goggie, goggie!" + +Fido looked whence the voice seemed to come, and he saw a tiny figure on +the other side of the fence,--a cunning baby-figure in the yard that +belonged to the house where the new neighbors were moving in. A second +glance assured Fido that the calling stranger was a little boy not more +than three years old, wearing a pretty dress, and a broad hat that +crowned his yellow hair and shaded his big blue eyes and dimpled face. +The sight was a pleasing one, and Fido vibrated his tail,--very +cautiously, however, for Fido was not quite certain that the little boy +meant his greeting for him, and Fido's sad experiences with the old +neighbors had made him wary about scraping acquaintances too hastily. + +"Tum, 'ittle goggie!" persisted the prattling stranger, and, as if to +encourage Fido, the little boy stretched his chubby arms through the +fence and waved them entreatingly. + +Fido was convinced now; so he got up, and with many cordial gestures of +his hospitable tail, trotted down the steps and over the lawn to the +corner of the fence where the little stranger was. + +"Me love oo," said the little stranger, patting Fido's honest brown +back; "me love oo, 'ittle goggie." + +Fido knew that, for there were caresses in every stroke of the dimpled +hands. Fido loved the little boy, too,--yes, all at once he loved the +little boy; and he licked the dimpled hands, and gave three short, quick +barks, and wagged his tail hysterically. So then and there began the +friendship of Fido and the little boy. + +Presently Fido crawled under the fence into the next yard, and then the +little boy sat down on the grass, and Fido put his forepaws in the +little boy's lap and cocked up his ears and looked up into the little +boy's face, as much as to say, "We shall be great friends, shall we not, +little boy?" + +"Me love oo," said the little boy; "me wan' to tiss oo, 'ittle goggie!" + +And the little boy did kiss Fido,--yes, right on Fido's cold nose; and +Fido liked to have the little boy kiss him, for it reminded him of +another little boy who used to kiss him, but who was now so big that he +was almost ashamed to play with Fido any more. + +"Is oo sit, 'ittle goggie?" asked the little boy, opening his blue eyes +to their utmost capacity and looking very piteous. "Oo nose be so told, +oo mus' be sit, 'ittle goggie!" + +But no, Fido was not sick, even though his nose _was_ cold. Oh, no; he +romped and played all that morning in the cool, green grass with the +little boy; and the red-headed woodpecker, clinging to the bark on the +hickory-tree, laughed at their merry antics till her sides ached and her +beautiful head turned fairly livid. Then, at last, the little boy's +mamma came out of the house and told him he had played long enough; and +neither the red-headed woodpecker nor Fido saw him again that day. + +But the next morning the little boy toddled down to the fence-corner, +bright and early, and called, "Goggie! goggie! goggie!" so loudly, that +Fido heard him in the wood-shed, where he was holding a morning chat +with Mrs. Tabby. Fido hastened to answer the call; the way he spun out +of the wood-shed and down the gravel walk and around the corner of the +house was a marvel. + +"Mamma says oo dot f'eas, 'ittle goggie," said the little boy. "_Has_ oo +dot f'eas?" + +Fido looked crestfallen, for could Fido have spoken he would have +confessed that he indeed _was_ afflicted with fleas,--not with very many +fleas, but just enough to interrupt his slumbers and his meditations at +the most inopportune moments. And the little boy's guileless impeachment +set Fido to feeling creepy-crawly all of a sudden, and without any +further ado Fido turned deftly in his tracks, twisted his head back +toward his tail, and by means of several well-directed bites and plunges +gave the malicious Bedouins thereabouts located timely warning to behave +themselves. The little boy thought this performance very funny, and he +laughed heartily. But Fido looked crestfallen. + +Oh, what play and happiness they had that day; how the green grass +kissed their feet, and how the smell of clover came with the springtime +breezes from the meadow yonder! The red-headed woodpecker heard them at +play, and she clambered out of the hollow maple and dodged hither and +thither as if she, too, shared their merriment. Yes, and the yellow +thistle-bird, whose nest was in the blooming lilac-bush, came and +perched in the pear-tree and sang a little song about the dear little +eggs in her cunning home. And there was a flower in the fence-corner,--a +sweet, modest flower that no human eyes but the little boy's had ever +seen,--and she sang a little song, too, a song about the kind old mother +earth and the pretty sunbeams, the gentle rain and the droning bees. +Why, the little boy had never known anything half so beautiful, and +Fido,--he, too, was delighted beyond all telling. If the whole truth +must be told, Fido had such an exciting and bewildering romp that day +that when night came, and he lay asleep on the kitchen floor, he dreamed +he was tumbling in the green grass with the little boy, and he tossed +and barked and whined so in his sleep that the hired man had to get up +in the night and put him out of doors. + +Down in the pasture at the end of the lane lived an old woodchuck. Last +year the freshet had driven him from his childhood's home in the +cornfield by the brook, and now he resided in a snug hole in the +pasture. During their rambles one day, Fido and his little boy friend +had come to the pasture, and found the old woodchuck sitting upright at +the entrance to his hole. + +"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you, old Mr. Woodchuck," said Fido. "I have +too much respect for your gray hairs." + +"Thank you," replied the woodchuck, sarcastically, "but I'm not afraid +of any bench-legged fyste that ever walked. It was only last week that I +whipped Deacon Skinner's yellow mastiff, and I calc'late I can trounce +you, you ridiculous little brown cur!" + +The little boy did not hear this badinage. When he saw the woodchuck +solemnly perched at the entrance to his hole he was simply delighted. + +"Oh, see!" cried the little boy, stretching out his fat arms and running +toward the woodchuck,--"oh, see,--nuzzer 'ittle goggie! Tum here, 'ittle +goggie,--me love oo!" + +But the old woodchuck was a shy creature, and not knowing what guile the +little boy's cordial greeting might mask, the old woodchuck discreetly +disappeared in his hole, much to the little boy's amazement. + +Nevertheless, the old woodchuck, the little boy, and Fido became fast +friends in time, and almost every day they visited together in the +pasture. The old woodchuck--hoary and scarred veteran that he was--had +wonderful stories to tell,--stories of marvellous adventures, of narrow +escapes, of battles with cruel dogs, and of thrilling experiences that +were altogether new to his wondering listeners. Meanwhile the red-headed +woodpecker's eggs in the hollow maple had hatched, and the proud mother +had great tales to tell of her baby birds,--of how beautiful and knowing +they were, and of what good, noble birds they were going to be when they +grew up. The yellow-bird, too, had four fuzzy little babies in her nest +in the lilac-bush, and every now and then she came to sing to the little +boy and Fido of her darlings. Then, when the little boy and Fido were +tired with play, they would sit in the rowen near the fence-corner and +hear the flower tell a story the dew had brought fresh from the stars +the night before. They all loved each other,--the little boy, Fido, the +old woodchuck, the red-headed woodpecker, the yellow-bird, and the +flower,--yes, all through the days of spring and all through the summer +time they loved each other in their own honest, sweet, simple way. + +But one morning Fido sat on the front porch and wondered why the little +boy had not come to the fence-corner and called to him. The sun was +high, the men had been long gone to the harvest fields, and the heat of +the early autumn day had driven the birds to the thickest foliage of +the trees. Fido could not understand why the little boy did not come; he +felt, oh! so lonesome, and he yearned for the sound of a little voice +calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie." + +The red-headed woodpecker could not explain it, nor could the +yellow-bird. Fido trotted leisurely down to the fence-corner and asked +the flower if she had seen the little boy that morning. But no, the +flower had not laid eyes on the little boy, and she could only shake her +head doubtfully when Fido asked her what it all meant. At last in +desperation Fido braced himself for an heroic solution of the mystery, +and as loudly as ever he could, he barked three times,--in the hope, you +know, that the little boy would hear his call and come. But the little +boy did not come. + +Then Fido trotted sadly down the lane to the pasture to talk with the +old woodchuck about this strange thing. The old woodchuck saw him coming +and ambled out to meet him. + +"But where is our little boy?" asked the old woodchuck. + +"I do not know," said Fido. "I waited for him and called to him again +and again, but he never came." + +Ah, those were sorry days for the little boy's friends, and sorriest for +Fido. Poor, honest Fido, how lonesome he was and how he moped about! How +each sudden sound, how each footfall, startled him! How he sat all those +days upon the front door-stoop, with his eyes fixed on the fence-corner +and his rough brown ears cocked up as if he expected each moment to see +two chubby arms stretched out toward him and to hear a baby voice +calling "Goggie, goggie, goggie." + +Once only they saw him,--Fido, the flower, and the others. It was one +day when Fido had called louder than usual. They saw a little figure in +a night-dress come to an upper window and lean his arms out. They saw it +was the little boy, and, oh! how pale and ill he looked. But his yellow +hair was as glorious as ever, and the dimples came back with the smile +that lighted his thin little face when he saw Fido; and he leaned on the +window casement and waved his baby hands feebly, and cried: "Goggie! +goggie!" till Fido saw the little boy's mother come and take him from +the window. + +One morning Fido came to the fence-corner--how very lonely that spot +seemed now--and he talked with the flower and the woodpecker; and the +yellow-bird came, too, and they all talked of the little boy. And at +that very moment the old woodchuck reared his hoary head by the hole in +the pasture, and he looked this way and that and wondered why the little +boy never came any more. + +"Suppose," said Fido to the yellow-bird,--"suppose you fly to the window +way up there and see what the little boy is doing. Sing him one of your +pretty songs, and tell him we are lonesome without him; that we are +waiting for him in the old fence-corner." + +Then the yellow-bird did as Fido asked,--she flew to the window where +they had once seen the little boy, and alighting upon the sill, she +peered into the room. In another moment she was back on the bush at +Fido's side. + +"He is asleep," said the yellow-bird. + +"Asleep!" cried Fido. + +"Yes," said the yellow-bird, "he is fast asleep. I think he must be +dreaming a beautiful dream, for I could see a smile on his face, and his +little hands were folded on his bosom. There were flowers all about +him, and but for their sweet voices the chamber would have been very +still." + +"Come, let us wake him," said Fido; "let us all call to him at once. +Then perhaps he will hear us and awaken and answer; perhaps he will +come." + +So they all called in chorus,--Fido and the other honest friends. They +called so loudly that the still air of that autumn morning was strangely +startled, and the old woodchuck in the pasture way off yonder heard the +echoes and wondered. + +"Little boy! little boy!" they called, "why are you sleeping? Why are +you sleeping, little boy?" + +Call on, dear voices! but the little boy will never hear. The dimpled +hands that caressed you are indeed folded upon his breast; the lips that +kissed your honest faces are sealed; the baby voice that sang your +playtime songs with you is hushed, and all about him is the fragrance +and the beauty of flowers. Call on, O honest friends! but he shall never +hear your calling; for, as if he were aweary of the love and play and +sunshine that were all he knew of earth, our darling is asleep forever. + +1885. + + * * * * * + +The Old Man. + + + + +THE OLD MAN. + + +I called him the Old Man, but he wuzn't an old man; he wuz a little +boy--our fust one; 'nd his gran'ma, who'd had a heap of experience in +sich matters, allowed that he wuz for looks as likely a child as she'd +ever clapped eyes on. Bein' our fust, we sot our hearts on him, and +Lizzie named him Willie, for that wuz the name she liked best, havin' +had a brother Willyum killed in the war. But I never called him anything +but the Old Man, and that name seemed to fit him, for he wuz one of your +sollum babies,--alwuz thinkin' 'nd thinkin' 'nd thinkin', like he wuz a +jedge, and when he laffed it wuzn't like other children's laffs, it wuz +so sad-like. + +Lizzie 'nd I made it up between us that when the Old Man growed up we'd +send him to collige 'nd give him a lib'ril edication, no matter though +we had to sell the farm to do it. But we never cud exactly agree as to +what we was goin' to make of him; Lizzie havin' her heart sot on his +bein' a preacher like his gran'pa Baker, and I wantin' him to be a +lawyer 'nd git rich out'n the corporations, like his uncle Wilson +Barlow. So we never come to no definite conclusion as to what the Old +Man wuz goin' to be bime by; but while we wuz thinkin' 'nd debatin' the +Old Man kep' growin' 'nd growin', and all the time he wuz as serious 'nd +sollum as a jedge. + +Lizzie got jest wrapt up in that boy; toted him round ever'where 'nd +never let on like it made her tired,--powerful big 'nd hearty child too, +but heft warn't nothin' 'longside of Lizzie's love for the Old Man. When +he caught the measles from Sairy Baxter's baby Lizzie sot up day 'nd +night till he wuz well, holdin' his hands 'nd singin' songs to him, 'nd +cryin' herse'f almost to death because she dassent give him cold water +to drink when he called f'r it. As for me, _my_ heart wuz wrapt up in +the Old Man, _too_, but, bein' a man, it wuzn't for me to show it like +Lizzie, bein' a woman; and now that the Old Man is--wall, now that he +has gone, it wouldn't do to let on how much I sot by him, for that would +make Lizzie feel all the wuss. + +Sometimes, when I think of it, it makes me sorry that I didn't show the +Old Man some way how much I wuz wrapt up in him. Used to hold him in my +lap 'nd make faces for him 'nd alder whistles 'nd things; sometimes I'd +kiss him on his rosy cheek, when nobody wuz lookin'; oncet I tried to +sing him a song, but it made him cry, 'nd I never tried my hand at +singin' again. But, somehow, the Old Man didn't take to me like he took +to his mother: would climb down outern my lap to git where Lizzie wuz; +would hang on to her gownd, no matter what she wuz doin',--whether she +was makin' bread, or sewin', or puttin' up pickles, it wuz alwuz the +same to the Old Man; he wuzn't happy unless he wuz right there, clost +beside his mother. + +Most all boys, as I've heern tell, is proud to be round with their +father, doin' what _he_ does 'nd wearin' the kind of clothes _he_ wears. +But the Old Man wuz diff'rent; he allowed that his mother wuz his best +friend, 'nd the way he stuck to her--wall, it has alwuz been a great +comfort to Lizzie to recollect it. + +The Old Man had a kind of confidin' way with his mother. Every oncet in +a while, when he'd be playin' by hisself in the front room, he'd call +out, "Mudder, mudder;" and no matter where Lizzie wuz,--in the kitchen, +or in the wood-shed, or in the yard, she'd answer: "What is it, +darlin'?" Then the Old Man 'ud say: "Tum here, mudder, I wanter tell you +sumfin'." Never could find out what the Old Man wanted to tell Lizzie; +like 's not he didn't wanter tell her nothin'; may be he wuz lonesome +'nd jest wanted to feel that Lizzie wuz round. But that didn't make no +diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or +what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to +tell her somethin' she dropped ever'thing else 'nd went straight to him. +Then the Old Man would laff one of his sollum, sad-like laffs, 'nd put +his arms round Lizzie's neck 'nd whisper--or pertend to +whisper--somethin' in her ear, 'nd Lizzie would laff 'nd say, "Oh, what +a nice secret we have atween us!" and then she would kiss the Old Man +'nd go back to her work. + +Time changes all things,--all things but memory, nothin' can change +_that_. Seems like it wuz only yesterday or the day before that I heern +the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter tell you sumfin'," and +that I seen him put his arms around her neck 'nd whisper softly to her. + +It had been an open winter, 'nd there wuz fever all around us. The +Baxters lost their little girl, and Homer Thompson's children had all +been taken down. Ev'ry night 'nd mornin' we prayed God to save our +darlin'; but one evenin' when I come up from the wood lot, the Old Man +wuz restless 'nd his face wuz hot 'nd he talked in his sleep. May be +you've been through it yourself,--may be you've tended a child that's +down with the fever; if so, may be you know what we went through, Lizzie +'nd me. The doctor shook his head one night when he come to see the Old +Man; we knew what that meant. I went out-doors,--I couldn't stand it in +the room there, with the Old Man seein' 'nd talkin' about things that +the fever made him see. I wuz too big a coward to stay 'nd help his +mother to bear up; so I went out-doors 'nd brung in wood,--brung in wood +enough to last all spring,--and then I sat down alone by the kitchen +fire 'nd heard the clock tick 'nd watched the shadders flicker through +the room. + +I remember Lizzie's comin' to me and sayin': "He's breathin' +strange-like, 'nd has little feet is cold as ice." Then I went into the +front chamber where he lay. The day wuz breakin'; the cattle wuz lowin' +outside; a beam of light come through the winder and fell on the Old +Man's face,--perhaps it wuz the summons for which he waited and which +shall some time come to me 'nd you. Leastwise the Old Man roused from +his sleep 'nd opened up his big blue eyes. It wuzn't me he wanted to +see. + +"Mudder! mudder!" cried the Old Man, but his voice warn't strong 'nd +clear like it used to be. "Mudder, where _be_ you, mudder?" + +Then, breshin' by me, Lizzie caught the Old Man up 'nd held him in her +arms, like she had done a thousand times before. + +"What is it, darlin'? _Here_ I be," says Lizzie. + +"Tum here," says the Old Man,--"tum here; I wanter tell you sumfin'." + +The Old Man went to reach his arms around her neck 'nd whisper in her +ear. But his arms fell limp and helpless-like, 'nd the Old Man's curly +head drooped on his mother's breast. + +1889. + + * * * * * + +Bill, the Lokil Editor. + + + + +BILL, THE LOKIL EDITOR. + + +Bill wuz alluz fond uv children 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Aint it kind o' +curious how sometimes we find a great, big, awkward man who loves sech +things? Bill had the biggest feet in the township, but I'll bet my +wallet that he never trod on a violet in all his life. Bill never took +no slack from enny man that wuz sober, but the children made him play +with 'em, and he'd set for hours a-watchin' the yaller-hammer buildin' +her nest in the old cottonwood. + +Now I aint defendin' Bill; I'm jest tellin' the truth about him. Nothink +I kin say one way or t'other is goin' to make enny difference now; +Bill's dead 'nd buried, 'nd the folks is discussin' him 'nd wond'rin' +whether his immortal soul is all right. Sometimes I _hev_ worried 'bout +Bill, but I don't worry 'bout him no more. Uv course Bill had his +faults,--I never liked that drinkin' business uv his'n, yet I allow that +Bill got more good out'n likker, and likker got more good out'n Bill, +than I ever see before or sence. It warn't when the likker wuz in Bill +that Bill wuz at his best, but when he hed been on to one uv his bats +'nd had drunk himself sick 'nd wuz comin' out uv the other end of the +bat, then Bill wuz one uv the meekest 'nd properest critters you ever +seen. An' potry? Some uv the most beautiful potry I ever read wuz writ +by Bill when he wuz recoverin' himself out'n one uv them bats. Seemed +like it kind uv exalted an' purified Bill's nachur to git drunk an' git +over it. Bill cud drink more likker 'nd be sorrier for it than any other +man in seven States. There never wuz a more penitent feller than he wuz +when he wuz soberin'. The trubble with Bill seemed to be that his +conscience didn't come on watch quite of'n enuff. + +It'll be ten years come nex' spring sence Bill showed up here. I don't +know whar he come from; seemed like he didn't want to talk about his +past. I allers suspicioned that he had seen trubble--maybe, sorrer. I +reecollect that one time he got a telegraph,--Mr. Ivins told me 'bout +it afterwards,--and when he read it he put his hands up to his face 'nd +groaned, like. That day he got full uv likker 'nd he kep' full of likker +for a week; but when he come round all right he wrote a pome for the +paper, 'nd the name of the pome wuz "Mary," but whether Mary wuz his +sister or his wife or an old sweetheart uv his'n I never knew. But it +looked from the pome like she wuz dead 'nd that he loved her. + +Bill wuz the best lokil the paper ever had. He didn't hustle around +much, but he had a kind er pleasin' way uv dishin' things up. He cud be +mighty comical when he sot out to be, but his best holt was serious +pieces. Nobody could beat Bill writin' obituaries. When old Mose +Holbrook wuz dyin' the minister sez to him: "Mr. Holbrook, you seem to +be sorry that you're passin' away to a better land?" + +"Wall, no; not exactly _that_," sez Mose, "but to be frank with you, I +_hev_ jest one regret in connection with this affair." + +"What's that?" asked the minister. + +"I can't help feelin' sorry," sez Mose, "that I aint goin' to hev the +pleasure uv readin' what Bill Newton sez about me in the paper. I know +it'll be sumthin' uncommon fine; I loant him two dollars a year ago last +fall." + +The Higginses lost a darned good friend when Bill died. Bill wrote a +pome 'bout their old dog Towze when he wuz run over by Watkins's hay +wagon seven years ago. I'll bet that pome is in every scrap-book in the +county. You couldn't read that pome without cryin',--why, that pome wud +hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary. Old Tim Hubbard, the +meanest man in the State, borrered a paper to read the pome, and he wuz +so 'fected by it that he never borrered anuther paper as long as he +lived. I don't more'n half reckon, though, that the Higginses +appreciated what Bill had done for 'em. I never heerd uv their givin' +him anythink more'n a basket uv greenin' apples, and Bill wrote a piece +'bout the apples nex' day. + +But Bill wuz at his best when he wrote things about the children,--about +the little ones that died, I mean. Seemed like Bill had a way of his own +of sayin' things that wuz beautiful 'nd tender; he said he loved the +children because they wuz innocent, and I reckon--yes, I know he did, +for the pomes he writ about 'em showed he did. + +When our little Alice died I started out for Mr. Miller's; he wuz the +undertaker. The night wuz powerful dark, 'nd it wuz all the darker to +me, because seemed like all the light hed gone out in my life. Down near +the bridge I met Bill; he weaved round in the road, for he wuz in +likker. + +"Hello, Mr. Baker," sez he, "whar be you goin' this time o' night?" + +"Bill," sez I, "I'm goin' on the saddest errand uv my life." + +"What d'ye mean?" sez he, comin' up to me as straight as he cud. + +"Why, Bill," sez I, "our little girl--my little girl--Allie, you +know--she's dead." + +I hoarsed up so I couldn't say much more. And Bill didn't say nothink at +all; he jest reached me his hand, and he took my hand and seemed like in +that grasp his heart spoke many words of comfort to mine. And nex' day +he had a piece in the paper about our little girl; we cut it out and put +it in the big Bible in the front room. Sometimes when we get to +fussin', Martha goes 'nd gets that bit of paper 'nd reads it to me; then +us two kind uv cry to ourselves, 'nd we make it up between us for the +dead child's sake. + +Well, you kin see how it wuz that so many uv us liked Bill; he had +soothed our hearts,--there's nothin' like sympathy after all. Bill's +potry hed heart in it; it didn't surprise you or scare you; it jest got +down in under your vest, 'nd before you knew it you wuz all choked up. I +know all about your fashionable potry and your famous potes,--Martha +took Godey's for a year. Folks that live in the city can't write +potry,--not the real, genuine article. To write potry, as I figure it, +the heart must have somethin' to feed on; you can't get that somethin' +whar there aint trees 'nd grass 'nd birds 'nd flowers. Bill loved these +things, and he fed his heart on 'em, and that's why his potry wuz so +much better than anybody else's. + +I aint worryin' much about Bill now; I take it that everythink is for +the best. When they told me that Bill died in a drunken fit I felt that +his end oughter have come some other way,--he wuz too good a man for +that. But maybe, after all, it was ordered for the best. Jist imagine +Bill a-standin' up for jedgment; jist imagine that poor, sorrowful, +shiverin' critter waitin' for his turn to come. Pictur', if you can, how +full uv penitence he is, 'nd how full uv potry 'nd gentleness 'nd +misery. The Lord aint agoin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of +course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of +compassion,--a compassion infinitely tenderer and sweeter than ours. And +the more I think on 't, the more I reckon that Bill will plead to win +that mercy, for, like as not, the little ones--my Allie with the +rest--will run to him when they see him in his trubble and will hold his +tremblin' hands 'nd twine their arms about him, and plead, with him, for +compassion. + +You've seen an old sycamore that the lightnin' has struck; the ivy has +reached up its vines 'nd spread 'em all around it 'nd over it, coverin' +its scars 'nd splintered branches with a velvet green 'nd fillin' the +air with fragrance. You've seen this thing and you know that it is +beautiful. + +That's Bill, perhaps, as he stands up f'r jedgment,--a miserable, +tremblin', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with +singin' and pleadin' little children--and that is pleasin' in God's +sight, I know. + +What would you--what would _I_--say, if we wuz setin' in jedgment then? + +Why, we'd jest kind uv bresh the moisture from our eyes 'nd say: "Mister +recordin' angel, you may nolly pros this case 'nd perseed with the +docket." + + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Little Yaller Baby. + + + + +THE LITTLE YALLER BABY. + + +I hev allus hed a good opinion uv the wimmin folks. I don't look at 'em +as some people do; uv course they're a necessity--just as men are. Uv +course if there warn't no wimmin folks there wouldn't be no men +folks--leastwise that's what the medikil books say. But I never wuz much +on discussin' humin economy; what I hev allus thought 'nd said wuz that +wimmin folks wuz a kind uv luxury, 'nd the best kind, too. Maybe it's +because I haint hed much to do with 'em that I'm sot on 'em. Never did +get real well acquainted with more 'n three or four uv 'em in all my +life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn't hev 'em round me as most +men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an' Ant Mary raised me +till I wuz big enuff to make my own livin'. Down here in the Southwest, +you see, most uv the girls is boys; there aint none uv them civilizin' +influences folks talk uv,--nothin' but flowers 'nd birds 'nd such things +as poetry tells about. So I kind uv growed up with the curis notion that +wimmin folks wuz too good for our part uv the country, 'nd I hevn't +quite got that notion out'n my head yet. + +One time--wall, I reckon 't wuz about four years ago--I got a letter +frum ol' Col. Sibley to come up to Saint Louey 'nd consult with him +'bout some stock int'rests we hed together. Railroad travellin' wuz no +new thing to me. I hed been prutty posperous,--hed got past hevin' to +ride in a caboose 'nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed +money in the Hoost'n bank 'nd use to go to Tchicargo oncet a year; hed +met Fill Armer 'nd shook hands with him, 'nd oncet the city papers hed a +colume article about my bein' a millionnaire; uv course 't warn't so, +but a feller kind uv likes that sort uv thing, you know. + +The mornin' after I got that letter from Col. Sibley I started for Saint +Louey. I took a bunk in the Pullman car, like I hed been doin' for six +years past; 'nd I reckon the other folks must hev thought I wuz a heap +uv a man, for every haff-hour I give the nigger haf a dollar to bresh me +off. The car wuz full uv people,--rich people, too, I reckon, for they +wore good clo'es 'nd criticised the scenery. Jest across frum me there +wuz a lady with a big, fat baby,--the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a +month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn't +payin' money to the nigger, darned if I didn't set there watchin' the +big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I aint much +of a hand at babies, 'cause I haint seen many uv 'em, 'nd when it comes +to handlin' 'em--why, that would break me all up, 'nd like 's not 't +would break the baby all up too. But it has allus been my notion that +nex' to the wimmin folks babies wuz jest about the nicest things on +earth. So the more I looked at that big, fat little baby settin' in its +mother's lap 'cross the way, the more I wanted to look; seemed like I +wuz hoodooed by the little tyke; 'nd the first thing I knew there wuz +water in my eyes; don't know why it is, but it allus makes me kind ur +slop over to set 'nd watch a baby cooin' 'nd playin' in its mother's +lap. + +"Look a' hyar, Sam," says I to the nigger, "come hyar 'nd bresh me off +agin! Why aint you tendin' to bizniss?" + +But it didn't do no good 't all; pertendin' to be cross with the nigger +might fool the other folks in the car, but it didn't fool me. I wuz dead +stuck on that baby--gol durn his pictur'! And there the little tyke set +in its mother's lap, doublin' up its fists 'nd tryin' to swaller 'em, +'nd talkin' like to its mother in a lingo I couldn't understan', but +which the mother could, for she talked back to the baby in a soothin' +lingo which I couldn't understand but which I liked to hear, 'nd she +kissed the baby 'nd stroked its hair 'nd petted it like wimmin do. + +It made me mad to hear them other folks in the car criticisn' the +scenery 'nd things. A man's in mighty poor bizness, anyhow, to be +lookin' at scenery when there's a woman in sight,--a woman _and_ a baby! + +Prutty soon--oh, maybe in a hour or two--the baby began to fret 'nd +worrit. Seemed to me like the little critter wuz hungry. Knowin' that +there wuzn't no eatin'-house this side uv Bowieville, I jest called the +train boy, 'nd says I to him: "Hev you got any victuals that will do +for a baby?" + +"How is oranges 'nd bananas?" says he. + +"That ought to do," sez I. "Jist do up a dozen uv your best oranges 'nd +a dozen uv your best bananas 'nd take 'em over to that baby with my +complerments." + +But before he could do it, the lady hed laid the baby on one uv her arms +'nd hed spread a shawl over its head 'nd over her shoulder, 'nd all uv a +suddin' the baby quit worritin' and seemed like he hed gone to sleep. + +When we got to York Crossin' I looked out'n the winder 'nd seen some men +carryin' a long pine box up towards the baggage car. Seein' their hats +off, I knew there wuz a dead body in the box, 'nd I couldn't help +feelin' sorry for the poor creetur that hed died in that lonely place uv +York Crossin'; but I mought hev felt a heap sorrier for the creeters +that hed to live there, for I'll allow that York Crossin' is a _leetle_ +the durnedest lonesomest place I ever seen. + +Well, just afore the train started agin, who should come into the car +but Bill Woodson, and he wuz lookin' powerful tough. Bill herded cattle +for me three winters, but hed moved away when he married one uv the +waiter girls at Spooner's hotel at Hoost'n. + +"Hello, Bill," says I; "what air you totin' so kind uv keerful-like in +your arms there?" + +"Why, I've got the baby," says he; 'nd as he said it the tears come up +into his eyes. + +"Your own baby, Bill?" says I. + +"Yes," says he. "Nellie took sick uv the janders a fortnight ago, +'nd--'nd she died, 'nd I'm takin' her body up to Texarkany to bury. She +lived there, you know, 'nd I'm goin' to leave the baby there with its +gran'ma." + +Poor Bill! it wuz his wife that the men were carryin' in that pine box +to the baggage car. + +"Likely lookin' baby, Bill," says I, cheerful like. "Perfect pictur' uv +its mother; kind uv favors you round the lower part uv the face, tho'." + +I said this to make Bill feel happier. If I'd told the truth, I'd 've +said the baby wuz a sickly, yaller-lookin' little thing, for so it wuz; +looked haff-starved, too. Couldn't help comparin' it with that big, fat +baby in its mother's arms over the way. + +"Bill," says I, "here's a ten-dollar note for the baby, 'nd God bless +you!" + +"Thank ye, Mr. Goodhue," says he, 'nd he choked all up as he moved off +with that yaller little baby in his arms. It warn't very fur up the road +he wuz goin', 'nd he found a seat in one uv the front cars. + +But along about an hour after that back come Bill, moseyin' through the +car like he wuz huntin' for somebody. Seemed like he wuz in trubble and +wuz huntin' for a friend. + +"Anything I kin do for you, Bill?" says I, but he didn't make no answer. +All of a suddint he sot his eyes on the prutty lady that had the fat +baby sleepin' in her arms, 'nd he made a break for her like he wuz +crazy. He took off his hat 'nd bent down over her 'nd said somethin' +none uv the rest uv us could hear. The lady kind uv started like she wuz +frightened, 'nd then she looked up at Bill 'nd looked him right square +in the countenance. She saw a tall, ganglin', awkward man, with long +yaller hair 'nd frowzy beard, 'nd she saw that he wuz tremblin' 'nd hed +tears in his eyes. She looked down at the fat baby in her arms, 'nd then +she looked out'n the winder at the great stretch uv prairie land, 'nd +seemed like she wuz lookin' off further'n the rest uv us could see. +Then, at last, she turnt around 'nd said, "Yes," to Bill, 'nd Bill went +off into the front car ag'in. + +None uv the rest uv us knew what all this meant, but in a minnit Bill +come back with his little yaller baby in his arms, 'nd you never heerd a +baby squall 'nd carry on like that baby wuz squallin' 'nd carryin' on. +Fact is, the little yaller baby was hungry, hungrier'n a wolf, 'nd there +wuz its mother dead in the car up ahead 'nd its gran'ma a good piece up +the road. What did the lady over the way do but lay her own sleepin' +baby down on the seat beside her 'nd take Bill's little yaller baby 'nd +hold it on one arm 'nd cover up its head 'nd her shoulder with a shawl, +jist like she had done with the fat baby not long afore. Bill never +looked at her; he took off his hat and held it in his hand, 'nd turnt +around 'nd stood guard over that mother, 'nd I reckon that ef any man +hed darst to look that way jist then Bill would've cut his heart out. + +The little yaller baby didn't cry very long. Seemed like it knowed +there wuz a mother holdin' it,--not its own mother, but a woman whose +life hed been hallowed by God's blessin' with the love 'nd the purity +'nd the sanctity uv motherhood. + +Why, I wouldn't hev swapped that sight uv Bill an' them two babies 'nd +that sweet woman for all the cattle in Texas! It jest made me know that +what I'd allus thought uv wimmin was gospel truth. God bless that lady! +I say, wherever she is to-day, 'nd God bless all wimmin folks, for +they're all alike in their unselfishness 'nd gentleness 'nd love! + +Bill said, "God bless ye!" too, when she handed him back his poor little +yaller baby. The little creeter wuz fast asleep, 'nd Bill darsent speak +very loud for fear he'd wake it up. But his heart wuz way up in his +mouth when he says "God bless ye!" to that dear lady; 'nd then he added, +like he wanted to let her know that he meant to pay her back when he +could: "I'll do the same for you some time, marm, if I kin." + +1888. + + * * * * * + +The Cyclopeedy. + + + + +THE CYCLOPEEDY. + + +Havin' lived next door to the Hobart place f'r goin' on thirty years, I +calc'late that I know jest about ez much about the case ez anybody else +now on airth, exceptin' perhaps it's ol' Jedge Baker, and he's so +plaguey old 'nd so powerful feeble that _he_ don't know nothin'. + +It seems that in the spring uv '47--the year that Cy Watson's oldest boy +wuz drownded in West River--there come along a book agent sellin' +volyumes 'nd tracks f'r the diffusion uv knowledge, 'nd havin' got the +recommend of the minister 'nd uv the select men, he done an all-fired +big business in our part uv the county. His name wuz Lemuel Higgins, 'nd +he wuz ez likely a talker ez I ever heerd, barrin' Lawyer Conkey, 'nd +everybody allowed that when Conkey wuz round he talked so fast that the +town pump ud have to be greased every twenty minutes. + +One of the first uv our folks that this Lemuel Higgins struck wuz +Leander Hobart. Leander had jest marr'd one uv the Peasley girls, 'nd +had moved into the old homestead on the Plainville road,--old Deacon +Hobart havin' give up the place to him, the other boys havin' moved out +West (like a lot o' darned fools that they wuz!). Leander wuz feelin' +his oats jest about this time, 'nd nuthin' wuz too good f'r him. + +"Hattie," sez he, "I guess I'll have to lay in a few books f'r readin' +in the winter time, 'nd I've half a notion to subscribe f'r a +cyclopeedy. Mr. Higgins here says they're invalerable in a family, and +that we orter have 'em, bein' as how we're likely to have the fam'ly +bime by." + +"Lor's sakes, Leander, how you talk!" sez Hattie, blushin' all over, ez +brides allers does to heern tell uv sich things. + +Waal, to make a long story short, Leander bargained with Mr. Higgins for +a set uv them cyclopeedies, 'nd he signed his name to a long printed +paper that showed how he agreed to take a cyclopeedy oncet in so often, +which wuz to be ez often ez a new one uv the volyumes wuz printed. A +cyclopeedy isn't printed all at oncet, because that would make it cost +too much; consekently the man that gets it up has it strung along fur +apart, so as to hit folks oncet every year or two, and gin'rally about +harvest time. So Leander kind uv liked the idee, and he signed the +printed paper 'nd made his affidavit to it afore Jedge Warner. + +The fust volyume of the cyclopeedy stood on a shelf in the old +seckertary in the settin'-room about four months before they had any use +f'r it. One night 'Squire Turner's son come over to visit Leander 'nd +Hattie, and they got to talkin' about apples, 'nd the sort uv apples +that wuz the best. Leander allowed that the Rhode Island greenin' wuz +the best, but Hattie and the Turner boy stuck up f'r the Roxbury russet, +until at last a happy idee struck Leander, and sez he: "We'll leave it +to the cyclopeedy, b'gosh! Whichever one the cyclopeedy sez is the best +will settle it." + +"But you can't find out nothin' 'bout Roxbury russets nor Rhode Island +greenin's in _our_ cyclopeedy," sez Hattie. + +"Why not, I'd like to know?" sez Leander, kind uv indignant like. + +"'Cause ours haint got down to the R yet," sez Hattie. "All ours tells +about is things beginnin' with A." + +"Well, aint we talkin' about Apples?" sez Leander. "You aggervate me +terrible, Hattie, by insistin' on knowin' what you don't know nothin' +'bout." + +Leander went to the seckertary 'nd took down the cyclopeedy 'nd hunted +all through it f'r Apples, but all he could find wuz "Apple--See +Pomology." + +"How in thunder kin I see Pomology," sez Leander, "when there aint no +Pomology to see? Gol durn a cyclopeedy, anyhow!" + +And he put the volyume back onto the shelf 'nd never sot eyes into it +agin. + +That's the way the thing run f'r years 'nd years. Leander would've gin +up the plaguey bargain, but he couldn't; he had signed a printed paper +'nd had swore to it afore a justice of the peace. Higgins would have had +the law on him if he had throwed up the trade. + +The most aggervatin' feature uv it all wuz that a new one uv them cussid +cyclopeedies wuz allus sure to show up at the wrong time,--when Leander +wuz hard up or had jest been afflicted some way or other. His barn burnt +down two nights afore the volyume containin' the letter B arrived, and +Leander needed all his chink to pay f'r lumber, but Higgins sot back on +that affidavit and defied the life out uv him. + +"Never mind, Leander," sez his wife, soothin' like, "it's a good book to +have in the house, anyhow, now that we've got a baby." + +"That's so," sez Leander, "babies does begin with B, don't it?" + +You see their fust baby had been born; they named him Peasley,--Peasley +Hobart,--after Hattie's folks. So, seein' as how it wuz payin' f'r a +book that told about babies, Leander didn't begredge that five dollars +so very much after all. + +"Leander," sez Hattie one forenoon, "that B cyclopeedy aint no account. +There aint nothin' in it about babies except 'See Maternity'!" + +"Waal, I'll be gosh durned!" sez Leander. That wuz all he said, and he +couldn't do nothin' at all, f'r that book agent, Lemuel Higgins, had the +dead wood on him,--the mean, sneakin' critter! + +So the years passed on, one of them cyclopeedies showin' up now 'nd +then,--sometimes every two years 'nd sometimes every four, but allus at +a time when Leander found it pesky hard to give up a fiver. It warn't no +use cussin' Higgins; Higgins just laffed when Leander allowed that the +cyclopeedy wuz no good 'nd that he wuz bein' robbed. Meantime Leander's +family wuz increasin' and growin'. Little Sarey had the hoopin' cough +dreadful one winter, but the cyclopeedy didn't help out at all, 'cause +all it said wuz: "Hoopin' Cough--See Whoopin' Cough"--and uv course, +there warn't no Whoopin' Cough to see, bein' as how the W hadn't come +yet! + +Oncet when Hiram wanted to dreen the home pasture, he went to the +cyclopeedy to find out about it, but all he diskivered wuz: "Drain--See +Tile." This wuz in 1859, and the cyclopeedy had only got down to G. + +The cow wuz sick with lung fever one spell, and Leander laid her dyin' +to that cussid cyclopeedy, 'cause when he went to readin' 'bout cows it +told him to "See Zooelogy." + +But what's the use uv harrowin' up one's feelin's talkin' 'nd thinkin' +about these things? Leander got so after a while that the cyclopeedy +didn't worry him at all: he grew to look at it ez one uv the crosses +that human critters has to bear without complainin' through this vale uv +tears. The only thing that bothered him wuz the fear that mebbe he +wouldn't live to see the last volume,--to tell the truth, this kind uv +got to be his hobby, and I've heern him talk 'bout it many a time +settin' round the stove at the tarvern 'nd squirtin' tobacco juice at +the sawdust box. His wife, Hattie, passed away with the yaller janders +the winter W come, and all that seemed to reconcile Leander to survivin' +her wuz the prospect uv seein' the last volyume uv that cyclopeedy. +Lemuel Higgins, the book agent, had gone to his everlastin' punishment; +but his son, Hiram, had succeeded to his father's business 'nd continued +to visit the folks his old man had roped in. By this time Leander's +children had growed up; all on 'em wuz marr'd, and there wuz numeris +grandchildren to amuse the ol' gentleman. But Leander wuzn't to be +satisfied with the common things uv airth; he didn't seem to take no +pleasure in his grandchildren like most men do; his mind wuz allers sot +on somethin' else,--for hours 'nd hours, yes, all day long, he'd set out +on the front stoop lookin' wistfully up the road for that book agent to +come along with a cyclopeedy. He didn't want to die till he'd got all +the cyclopeedies his contract called for; he wanted to have everything +straightened out before he passed away. + +When--oh, how well I recollect it--when Y come along he wuz so overcome +that he fell over in a fit uv paralysis, 'nd the old gentleman never got +over it. For the next three years he drooped 'nd pined, and seemed like +he couldn't hold out much longer. Finally he had to take to his bed,--he +was so old 'nd feeble,--but he made 'em move the bed up aginst the +winder so he could watch for that last volyume of the cyclopeedy. + +The end come one balmy day in the spring uv '87. His life wuz a-ebbin' +powerful fast; the minister wuz there, 'nd me, 'nd Dock Wilson, 'nd +Jedge Baker, 'nd most uv the fam'ly. Lovin' hands smoothed the wrinkled +forehead 'nd breshed back the long, scant, white hair, but the eyes of +the dyin' man wuz sot upon that piece uv road down which the cyclopeedy +man allus come. + +All to oncet a bright 'nd joyful look come into them eyes, 'nd ol' +Leander riz up in bed 'nd sez, "It's come!" + +"What is it, Father?" asked his daughter Sarey, sobbin' like. + +"Hush," sez the minister, solemnly; "he sees the shinin' gates uv the +Noo Jerusalum." + +"No, no," cried the aged man; "it is the cyclopeedy--the letter Z--it's +comin'!" + +And, sure enough! the door opened, and in walked Higgins. He tottered +rather than walked, f'r he had growed old 'nd feeble in his wicked +perfession. + +"Here's the Z cyclopeedy, Mr. Hobart," says Higgins. + +Leander clutched it; he hugged it to his pantin' bosom; then stealin' +one pale hand under the piller he drew out a faded bank-note 'nd gave it +to Higgins. + +"I thank Thee for this boon," sez Leander, rollin' his eyes up devoutly; +then he gave a deep sigh. + +"Hold on," cried Higgins, excitedly, "you've made a mistake--it isn't +the last--" + +But Leander didn't hear him--his soul hed fled from its mortal tenement +'nd hed soared rejoicin' to realms uv everlastin' bliss. + +"He is no more," sez Dock Wilson, metaphorically. + +"Then who are his heirs?" asked that mean critter Higgins. + +"We be," sez the family. + +"Do you conjointly and severally acknowledge and assume the obligation +of deceased to me?" he asked 'em. + +"What obligation?" asked Peasley Hobart, stern like. + +"Deceased died owin' me f'r a cyclopeedy!" sez Higgins. + +"That's a lie!" sez Peasley. "We all seen him pay you for the Z!" + +"But there's another one to come," sez Higgins. + +"Another?" they all asked. + +"Yes, the index!" sez he. + +So there wuz, and I'll be eternally goll durned if he aint a-suin' the +estate in the probate court now f'r the price uv it! + + +1889. + + * * * * * + +Dock Stebbins. + + + + +DOCK STEBBINS. + + +Most everybody liked Dock Stebbins, fur all he wuz the durnedest critter +that ever lived to play jokes on folks! Seems like he wuz born jokin' +'nd kep' it up all his life. Ol' Mrs. Stebbins used to tell how when the +Dock wuz a baby he use to wake her up haff a dozen times un a night +cryin' like he wuz hungry, 'nd when she turnt over in bed to him he wud +laff 'nd coo like he wuz sayin', "No, thank ye--I wuz only foolin'!" + +His mother allus thought a heap uv the Dock, 'nd she allus put up with +his jokes 'nd things without grumblin'; said it warn't his fault that he +wuz so full uv tricks 'nd funny business; kind uv took the +responsibility uv it onto herself, because, as she allowed, she'd been +to a circus jest afore he wuz born. + +Nothin' tickled the Dock more 'n to worry folks,--not in a mean way, but +jest to sort uv bother 'em. Use to hang round the post-office 'nd +pertend to have fits,--sakes alive! but how that scared the women folks. +One day who should come along but ol' Sue Perkins; Sue wuz suspicioned +of takin' a nip uv likker on the quiet now 'nd then, but nobody had ever +ketched her at it. Wall, the Dock he had one uv his fits jest as Sue +hove in sight, 'nd Lem Thompson (who stood in with Dock in all his +deviltry) leant over Dock while he wuz wallerin' 'nd pertending to foam +at the mouth, and Lem cried out: "Nothink will fetch him out'n this turn +but a drink uv brandy." Sue, who wuz as kind-hearted a old maid as ever +superntended a strawberry festival, whipped a bottle out'n her bag 'nd +says: "Here you be, Lem, but don't let him swaller the bottle." Folks +bothered Sue a heap 'bout this joke till she moved down into Texas to +teach school. + +Dock had a piece uv wood 'bout two inches long,--maybe three: it wuz +black 'nd stubby 'nd looked jest like the butt uv a cigar. Nobody but +Dock wud ever hev thought uv sech a fool thing, but Dock use to go +round with that thing in his mouth like it wuz a cigar, and when he'd +meet a man who wuz smokin' he'd say: "Excuse me, but will you please to +gimme a light?" Then the man wud hand over his cigar, and Dock wud +plough that wood stub uv his'n around in the lighted cigar and would +pertend to puff away till he had put the real cigar out, 'nd then Dock +wud hand the cigar back, sayin', kind uv regretful like: "You don't seem +to have much uv a light there; I reckon I'll wait till I kin git a +match." You kin imagine how that other feller's cigar tasted when he +lighted it agin. Dock tried it on me oncet, 'nd when I lighted up agin +seemed like I wuz smokin' a piece uv rope or a liver pad. + +One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson went over to Peory on the railroad, 'nd +while they wuz settin' in the car in come two wimmin 'nd set in the seat +ahead uv 'em. All uv a suddint Dock nudged Lem and sez, jest loud enuff +fur the wimmin to hear: "I didn't git round till after it wuz over, but +I never see sech a sight as that baby's ear wuz." + +Lem wuz onto Dock's methods, 'nd he knew there wuz sumthin' ahead. So +he says: "Tough-lookin' ear, wuz it?" + +"Wall, I should remark," says Dock. "You see it wuz like this: the +mother had gone out into the back yard to hang some clo'es onto the +line, 'nd she laid the baby down in the crib. Baby wan't more 'n six +weeks old,--helpless little critter as ever you seen. Wall, all to oncet +the mother heerd the baby cryin', but bein' busy with them clo'es she +didn't mind much. The baby kep' cryin' 'nd cryin', 'nd at last the +mother come back into the house, 'nd there she found a big rat gnawin' +at one uv the baby's ears,--had et it nearly off! There lay that +helpless little innocent, cryin' 'nd writhin', 'nd there sat that rat +with his long tail, nippin' 'nd chewin' at one uv them tiny coral +ears--oh, it wuz offul!" + +"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the mother!" says Lem, sad like. + +"Jest imagine the feelinks uv the _baby_," sez Dock. "How'd you like to +be lyin' helpless in a crib with a big rat gnawin' your ear?" + +Wall, all this conversation wuz fur from pleasant to those two wimmin in +the front seat, fur wimmin love babies 'nd hate rats, you know. It wuz +nuts fur Dock 'nd Lem to see the two wimmin squirm, 'nd all the way to +Peory they didn't talk about nuthink but snakes 'nd spiders 'nd mice 'nd +caterpillers. When the train got to Peory a gentleman met the two wimmin +'nd sez to one uv 'em: "I'm feered the trip haint done you much good, +Lizzie," says he. "Sakes alive, John," says she, "it's a wonder we haint +dead, for we've been travellin' forty miles with a real live Beadle dime +novvell!" + +'Nuther trick Dock had wuz to walk 'long the street behind wimmin 'nd +tell about how his sister had jest lost one uv her diamond earrings +while out walkin'. Jest as soon as the wimmin heerd this they'd clap +their han's up to their ears to see if their earrings wuz all right. +Dock never laffed nor let on like he wuz jokin', but jest the same this +sort uv thing tickled him nearly to deth. + +Dock went up to Chicago with Jedge Craig oncet, 'nd when they come back +the jedge said he'd never had such an offul time in all his born days. +Said that Dock bought a fool Mother Goose book to read in the hoss-cars +jest to queer folks; would set in a hoss-car lookin' at the picturs 'nd +readin' the verses 'nd laffin' like it wuz all new to him 'nd like he +wuz a child. Everybody sized him up for a ejeot, 'nd the wimmin folks +shook their heads 'nd said it wuz orful fur so fine a lookin' feller to +be such a tom fool. 'Nuther thing Dock did wuz to git hold uv a bad +quarter 'nd give it to a beggar, 'nd then foller the beggar into a +saloon 'nd git him arrested for tryin' to pass counterfit money. I +reckon that if Dock had stayed in Chicago a week he'd have had everybody +crazy. + +No, I don't know how he come to be a medikil man. He told me oncet that +when he found out that he wuzn't good for anythink he concluded he'd be +a doctor; but I reckon that wuz one uv his jokes. He didn't have much uv +a practice: he wuz too yumorous to suit most invalids 'nd sick folks. We +had him tend our boy Sam jest oncet when Sam wuz comin' down with the +measles. He looked at Sam's tongue 'nd felt his pulse 'nd said he'd +leave a pill for Sam to take afore goin' to bed. + +"How shell we administer the pill?" asked my wife. + +"Wall," says Dock, "the best way to do is to git the boy down on the +floor 'nd hold his mouth open 'nd gag him till he swallers the pill. +After the pill gits into his system it will explode in about ten minits, +'nd then the boy will feel better." + +This wuz cheerful news for the boy. No human power cud ha' got that pill +into Sam. We never solicited Dock's perfeshional services agin. + +One time Dock 'nd Lem Thompson drove over to Knoxville to help Dock +Parsons cut a man's leg off. About four miles out uv town 'nd right in +the middle uv the hot peraroor they met Moses Baker's oldest boy +trudgin' along with a basket uf eggs. The Dock whoaed his hoss 'nd +called to the boy,-- + +"Where be you goin' with them eggs?" says he. + +"Goin' to town to sell 'em," says the boy. + +"How much a dozen?" asked the Dock. + +"'Bout ten cents, I reckon," says the boy. + +"Putty likely-lookin' eggs," says the Dock; 'nd he handed the lines over +to Lem, 'nd got out'n the buggy. + +"How many hev you got?" he asked. + +"Ten dozen," says the boy. + +"Git out!" says Dock. "There haint no ten dozen eggs in that basket!" + +"Yes, there is," says the boy, "fur I counted 'em myself." + +The Dock allowed that he wuzn't goin' to take nobody's count on eggs; so +he got that fool boy to stan' there in the middle uv that hot peraroor, +claspin' his two hands together, while he, the Dock, counted them eggs +out'n the basket one by one into the boy's arms. Ten dozen eggs is a +heap; you kin imagine, maybe, how that boy looked with his arms full uv +eggs! When the Dock had got about nine dozen counted out he stopped all +uv a suddint 'nd said, "Wall, come to think on 't, I reckon I don't want +no eggs to-day, but I'm jest as much obleeged to you fur yer trouble." +And so he jumped back into the buggy 'nd drove off. + +Now, maybe that fool boy wuzn't in a peck uv trubble! There he stood in +the middle uv that hot--that all-fired hot--peraroor with his arms full +uv eggs. What wuz there fur him to do? He wuz afraid to move, lest he +should break them eggs; yet the longer he stood there the less chance +there wuz of the warm weather improvin' the eggs. + +Along in the summer of '78 the fever broke out down South, 'nd one day +Dock made up his mind that as bizness wuzn't none too good at home he'd +go down South 'nd see what he could do there. That wuz jest like one of +Dock's fool notions, we all said. But he went. In about six weeks along +come a telegraph sayin' that Dock wuz dead,--he'd died uv the fever. The +minister went up to the homestead 'nd broke the news gentle like to +Dock's mother; but, bless you! she didn't believe it--she wouldn't +believe it. She said it wuz one uv Dock's jokes; she didn't blame him, +nuther--it wuz _her_ fault, she allowed, that Dock wuz allus that way +about makin' fun uv life 'nd death. No, sir; she never believed that +Dock wuz dead, but she allus talked like he might come in any minnit; +and there wuz allus his old place set fur him at the table 'nd nuthin' +was disturbed in his little room upstairs. And so five years slipped by +'nd no Dock come back, 'nd there wuz no tidin's uv him. Uv course, the +rest uv us knew; but his mother--oh, no, _she_ never would believe it. + +At last the old lady fell sick, and the doctor said she couldn't hold +out long, she wuz so old 'nd feeble. The minister who wuz there said +that she seemed to sleep from the evenin' of this life into the mornin' +uv the next. Jest afore the last she kind uv raised up in bed and cried +out like she saw sumthin' that she loved, and she held out her arms like +there wuz some one standin' in the doorway. Then they asked her what the +matter wuz, and she says, joyful like: "He's come back, and there he +stan's jest as he use ter: I knew he wuz only jokin'!" + +They looked, but they saw nuthin'; 'nd when they went to her she wuz +dead. + + +1888. + + * * * * * + + +The Fairies of Pesth. + + + + +THE FAIRIES OF PESTH.[1] + + +An old poet walked alone in a quiet valley. His heart was heavy, and the +voices of Nature consoled him. His life had been a lonely and sad one. +Many years ago a great grief fell upon him, and it took away all his joy +and all his ambition. It was because he brooded over his sorrow, and +because he was always faithful to a memory, that the townspeople deemed +him a strange old poet; but they loved him and they loved his songs,--in +his life and in his songs there was a gentleness, a sweetness, a pathos +that touched every heart. "The strange, the dear old poet," they called +him. + +Evening was coming on. The birds made no noise; only the whip-poor-will +repeated over and over again its melancholy refrain in the marsh beyond +the meadow. The brook ran slowly, and its voice was so hushed and tiny +that you might have thought that it was saying its prayers before going +to bed. + +The old poet came to the three lindens. This was a spot he loved, it was +so far from the noise of the town. The grass under the lindens was fresh +and velvety. The air was full of fragrance, for here amid the grass grew +violets and daisies and buttercups and other modest wildflowers. Under +the lindens stood old Leeza, the witchwife. + +"Take this," said the poet to old Leeza, the witchwife; and he gave her +a silver-piece. + +"You are good to me, master poet," said the witchwife. "You have always +been good to me. I do not forget, master poet, I do not forget." + +"Why do you speak so strangely?" asked the old poet. "You mean more than +you say. Do not jest with me; my heart is heavy with sorrow." + +"I do not jest," answered the witchwife. "I will show you a strange +thing. Do as I bid you; tarry here under the lindens, and when the moon +rises, the Seven Crickets will chirp thrice; then the Raven will fly +into the west, and you will see wonderful things, and beautiful things +you will hear." + +Saying this much, old Leeza, the witchwife, stole away, and the poet +marvelled at her words. He had heard the townspeople say that old Leeza +was full of dark thoughts and of evil deeds, but he did not heed these +stories. + +"They say the same of me, perhaps," he thought. "I will tarry here +beneath the three lindens and see what may come of this whereof the +witchwife spake." + +The old poet sat amid the grass at the foot of the three lindens, and +darkness fell around him. He could see the lights in the town away off; +they twinkled like the stars that studded the sky. The whip-poor-will +told his story over and over again in the marsh beyond the meadow, and +the brook tossed and talked in its sleep, for it had played too hard +that day. + +"The moon is rising," said the old poet. "Now we shall see." + +The moon peeped over the tops of the far-off hills. She wondered whether +the world was fast asleep. She peeped again. There could be no doubt; +the world was fast asleep,--at least so thought the dear old moon. So +she stepped boldly up from behind the distant hills. The stars were glad +that she came, for she was indeed a merry old moon. + +The Seven Crickets lived in the hedge. They were brothers, and they made +famous music. When they saw the moon in the sky they sang "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, just as old Leeza, the +witchwife, said they would. + +"Whir-r-r!" It was the Raven flying out of the oak-tree into the west. +This, too, was what the old witchwife had foretold. "Whir-r-r" went the +two black wings, and then it seemed as if the Raven melted into the +night. Now, this was strange enough, but what followed was stranger +still. + +Hardly had the Raven flown away, when out from their habitations in the +moss, the flowers, and the grass trooped a legion of fairies,--yes, +right there before the old poet's eyes appeared, as if by magic, a +mighty troop of the dearest little fays in all the world. + +Each of these fairies was about the height of a cambric needle. The lady +fairies were, of course, not so tall as the gentleman fairies, but all +were of quite as comely figure as you could expect to find even among +real folk. They were quaintly dressed; the ladies wearing quilted silk +gowns and broad-brim hats with tiny feathers in them, and the gentlemen +wearing curious little knickerbockers, with silk coats, white hose, +ruffled shirts, and dainty cocked hats. + +"If the witchwife had not foretold it I should say that I dreamed," +thought the old poet. But he was not frightened. He had never harmed the +fairies, therefore he feared no evil from them. + +One of the fairies was taller than the rest, and she was much more +richly attired. It was not her crown alone that showed her to be the +queen. The others made obeisance to her as she passed through the midst +of them from her home in the bunch of red clover. Four dainty pages +preceded her, carrying a silver web which had been spun by a +black-and-yellow garden spider of great renown. This silver web the four +pages spread carefully over a violet leaf, and thereupon the queen sat +down. And when she was seated the queen sang this little song: + + "From the land of murk and mist + Fairy folk are coming + To the mead the dew has kissed, + And they dance where'er they list + To the cricket's thrumming. + + "Circling here and circling there, + Light as thought and free as air, + Hear them cry, 'Oho, oho,' + As they round the rosey go. + + "Appleblossom, Summerdew, + Thistleblow, and Ganderfeather! + Join the airy fairy crew + Dancing on the sward together! + Till the cock on yonder steeple + Gives all faery lusty warning, + Sing and dance, my little people,-- + Dance and sing 'Oho' till morning!" + +The four little fairies the queen called to must have been loitering. +But now they came scampering up,--Ganderfeather behind the others, for +he was a very fat and presumably a very lazy little fairy. + +"The elves will be here presently," said the queen, "and then, little +folk, you shall dance to your heart's content. Dance your prettiest +to-night for the good old poet is watching you." + +"Ah, little queen," cried the old poet, "you see me, then? I thought +to watch your revels unbeknown to you. But I meant you no +disrespect,--indeed, I meant you none, for surely no one ever loved +the little folk more than I." + +"We know you love us, good old poet," said the little fairy queen, "and +this night shall give you great joy and bring you into wondrous fame." + +These were words of which the old poet knew not the meaning; but we, who +live these many years after he has fallen asleep,--we know the meaning +of them. + +Then, surely enough, the elves came trooping along. They lived in the +further meadow, else they had come sooner. They were somewhat larger +than the fairies, yet they were very tiny and very delicate creatures. +The elf prince had long flaxen curls, and he was arrayed in a wonderful +suit of damask web, at the manufacture of which seventy-seven silkworms +had labored for seventy-seven days, receiving in payment therefor as +many mulberry leaves as seven blue beetles could carry and stow in seven +times seven sunny days. At his side the elf prince wore a sword made of +the sting of a yellow-jacket, and the hilt of this sword was studded +with the eyes of unhatched dragon-flies, these brighter and more +precious than the most costly diamonds. + +The elf prince sat beside the fairy queen. The other elves capered +around among the fairies. The dancing sward was very light, for a +thousand and ten glowworms came from the marsh and hung their beautiful +lamps over the spot where the little folk were assembled. If the moon +and the stars were jealous of that soft, mellow light, they had good +reason to be. + +The fairies and elves circled around in lively fashion. Their favorite +dance was the ring-round-a-rosy which many children nowadays dance. But +they had other measures, too, and they danced them very prettily. + +"I wish," said the old poet, "I wish that I had my violin here, for then +I would make merry music for you." + +The fairy queen laughed. "We have music of our own," she said, "and it +is much more beautiful than even you, dear old poet, could make." + +Then, at the queen's command, each gentleman elf offered his arm to a +lady fairy, and each gentleman fairy offered his arm to a lady elf, and +so, all being provided with partners, these little people took their +places for a waltz. The fairy queen and the elf prince were the only +ones that did not dance; they sat side by side on the violet leaf and +watched the others. The hoptoad was floor manager; the green burdock +badge on his breast showed that. + +"Mind where you go--don't jostle each other," cried the hoptoad, for he +was an exceedingly methodical fellow, despite his habit of jumping at +conclusions. + +Then, when all was ready, the Seven Crickets went "chirp-chirp, +chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, and away flew that host of +little fairies and little elves in the daintiest waltz imaginable:-- + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +The old poet was delighted. Never before had he seen such a sight; never +before had he heard so sweet music. Round and round whirled the sprite +dancers; the thousand and ten glowworms caught the rhythm of the music +that floated up to them, and they swung their lamps to and fro in time +with the fairy waltz. The plumes in the hats of the cunning little +ladies nodded hither and thither, and the tiny swords of the cunning +little gentlemen bobbed this way and that as the throng of dancers swept +now here, now there. With one tiny foot, upon which she wore a lovely +shoe made of a tanned flea's hide, the fairy queen beat time, yet she +heard every word which the gallant elf prince said. So, with the fairy +queen blushing, the mellow lamps swaying, the elf prince wooing, and the +throng of little folk dancing hither and thither, the fairy music went +on and on:-- + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Tell me, my fairy queen," cried the old poet, "whence comes this fairy +music which I hear? The Seven Crickets in the hedge are still, the birds +sleep in their nests, the brook dreams of the mountain home it stole +away from yester morning. Tell me, therefore, whence comes this wondrous +fairy music, and show me the strange musicians that make it." + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Look to the grass and the flowers," said the fairy queen. "In every +blade and in every bud lie hidden notes of fairy music. Each violet and +daisy and buttercup,--every modest wild-flower (no matter how hidden) +gives glad response to the tinkle of fairy feet. Dancing daintily over +this quiet sward where flowers dot the green, my little people strike +here and there and everywhere the keys which give forth the harmonies +you hear." + +Long marvelled the old poet. He forgot his sorrow, for the fairy music +stole into his heart and soothed the wound there. The fairy host swept +round and round, and the fairy music went on and on. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +"Why may I not dance?" asked a piping voice. "Please, dear queen, may I +not dance, too?" + +It was the little hunchback that spake,--the little hunchback fairy who, +with wistful eyes, had been watching the merry throng whirl round and +round. + +"Dear child, thou canst not dance," said the fairy queen, tenderly; +"thy little limbs are weak. Come, sit thou at my feet, and let me smooth +thy fair curls and stroke thy pale cheeks." + +"Believe me, dear queen," persisted the little hunchback, "I can dance, +and quite prettily, too. Many a time while the others made merry here I +have stolen away by myself to the brookside and danced alone in the +moonlight,--alone with my shadow. The violets are thickest there. 'Let +thy halting feet fall upon us, Little Sorrowful,' they whispered, 'and +we shall make music for thee.' So there I danced, and the violets sang +their songs for me. I could hear the others making merry far away, but I +was merry, too; for I, too, danced, and there was none to laugh." + +"If you would like it, Little Sorrowful," said the elf prince, "I will +dance with you." + +"No, brave prince," answered the little hunchback, "for that would weary +you. My crutch is stout, and it has danced with me before. You will say +that we dance very prettily,--my crutch and I,--and you will not laugh, +I know." + +Then the queen smiled sadly; she loved the little hunchback and she +pitied her. + +"It shall be as you wish," said the queen. The little hunchback was +overjoyed. + +"I have to catch the time, you see," said she, and she tapped her crutch +and swung one little shrunken foot till her body fell into the rhythm of +the waltz. + +Far daintier than the others did the little hunchback dance; now one +tiny foot and now the other tinkled on the flowers, and the point of the +little crutch fell here and there like a tear. And as she danced, there +crept into the fairy music a tenderer cadence, for (I know not why) the +little hunchback danced ever on the violets, and their responses were +full of the music of tears. There was a strange pathos in the little +creature's grace; she did not weary of the dance: her cheeks flushed, +and her eyes grew fuller, and there was a wondrous light in them. And as +the little hunchback danced, the others forgot her limp and felt only +the heart-cry in the little hunchback's merriment and in the music of +the voiceful violets. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +Now all this saw the old poet, and all this wondrously beautiful music +he heard. And as he heard and saw these things, he thought of the pale +face, the weary eyes, and the tired little body that slept forever now. +He thought of the voice that had tried to be cheerful for his sake, of +the thin, patient little hands that had loved to do his bidding, of the +halting little feet that had hastened to his calling. + +"Is it thy spirit, O my love?" he wailed. "Is it thy spirit, O dear, +dead love?" + +A mist came before his eyes, and his heart gave a great cry. + +But the fairy dance went on and on. The others swept to and fro and +round and round, but the little hunchback danced always on the violets, +and through the other music there could be plainly heard, as it crept in +and out, the mournful cadence of those tenderer flowers. + +And, with the music and the dancing, the night faded into morning. And +all at once the music ceased and the little folk could be seen no more. +The birds came from their nests, the brook began to bestir himself, and +the breath of the new-born day called upon all in that quiet valley to +awaken. + +So many years have passed since the old poet, sitting under the three +lindens half a league the other side of Pesth, saw the fairies dance and +heard the fairy music,--so many years have passed since then, that had +the old poet not left us an echo of that fairy waltz there would be none +now to believe the story I tell. + +[Illustration: Bar Music] + +Who knows but that this very night the elves and the fairies will dance +in the quiet valley; that Little Sorrowful will tinkle her maimed feet +upon the singing violets, and that the little folk will illustrate in +their revels, through which a tone of sadness steals, the comedy and +pathos of our lives? Perhaps no one shall see, perhaps no one else ever +did see, these fairy people dance their pretty dances; but we who have +heard old Robert Volkmann's waltz know full well that he at least saw +that strange sight and heard that wondrous music. + +And you will know so, too, when you have read this true story and heard +old Volkmann's claim to immortality. + +1887. + + +THE END. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1: The music arranged by Mr. Theodore Thomas.] + + + + + ++--------------------------------------------------------------+ +| | +| Transcriber's note: | +| | +| Page 75 'frowardness' changed to 'forwardness' | +| | +| Page 219. 'her' changed to 'here' | +| | +| | ++--------------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Book of Profitable Tales, by Eugene Field + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BOOK OF PROFITABLE TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 35440.txt or 35440.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/4/35440/ + +Produced by David Edwards, woodie4 and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net (This file was produced from +images generously made available by The Internet +Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/35440.zip b/35440.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d1377d --- /dev/null +++ b/35440.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..610b689 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #35440 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35440) |
