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@@ -0,0 +1,9117 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rewards and Fairies, by Rudyard Kipling + +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: Rewards and Fairies + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: June, 1996 [Etext #556] +Posting Date: November 28, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REWARDS AND FAIRIES *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher + + + + + +REWARDS AND FAIRIES + +By Rudyard Kipling + + + +Contents + + A Charm + Introduction + Cold Iron + Cold Iron + Gloriana + The Two Cousins + The Looking-Glass + The Wrong Thing + A Truthful Song + King Henry VII and the Shipwrights + Marklake Witches + The Way through the Woods + Brookland Road + The Knife and the Naked Chalk + The Run of the Downs + Song of the Men's Side + Brother Square-Toes + Philadelphia + If-- + Rs + 'A Priest in Spite of Himself' + A St Helena Lullaby + 'Poor Honest Men' + The Conversion of St Wilfrid + Eddi's Service + Song of the Red War-Boat + A Doctor of Medicine + An Astrologer's Song + 'Our Fathers of Old' + Simple Simon + The Thousandth Man + Frankie's Trade + The Tree of Justice + The Ballad of Minepit Shaw + A Carol + + + + +A Charm + + + Take of English earth as much + As either hand may rightly clutch. + In the taking of it breathe + Prayer for all who lie beneath-- + Not the great nor well-bespoke, + But the mere uncounted folk + Of whose life and death is none + Report or lamentation. + Lay that earth upon thy heart, + And thy sickness shall depart! + + It shall sweeten and make whole + Fevered breath and festered soul; + It shall mightily restrain + Over-busy hand and brain; + it shall ease thy mortal strife + 'Gainst the immortal woe of life, + Till thyself restored shall prove + By what grace the Heavens do move. + + Take of English flowers these-- + Spring's full-faced primroses, + Summer's wild wide-hearted rose, + Autumn's wall-flower of the close, + And, thy darkness to illume, + Winter's bee-thronged ivy-bloom. + Seek and serve them where they bide + From Candlemas to Christmas-tide, + For these simples used aright + Shall restore a failing sight. + + These shall cleanse and purify + Webbed and inward-turning eye; + These shall show thee treasure hid, + Thy familiar fields amid, + At thy threshold, on thy hearth, + Or about thy daily path; + And reveal (which is thy need) + Every man a King indeed! + + + + +Introduction + + +Once upon a time, Dan and Una, brother and sister, living in the English +country, had the good fortune to meet with Puck, alias Robin Goodfellow, +alias Nick o' Lincoln, alias Lob-lie-by-the-Fire, the last survivor +in England of those whom mortals call Fairies. Their proper name, of +course, is 'The People of the Hills'. This Puck, by means of the magic +of Oak, Ash, and Thorn, gave the children power + + To see what they should see and hear what they should hear, + Though it should have happened three thousand year. + +The result was that from time to time, and in different places on the +farm and in the fields and in the country about, they saw and talked to +some rather interesting people. One of these, for instance, was a Knight +of the Norman Conquest, another a young Centurion of a Roman Legion +stationed in England, another a builder and decorator of King Henry +VII's time; and so on and so forth; as I have tried to explain in a book +called PUCK OF POOK'S HILL. + +A year or so later, the children met Puck once more, and though they +were then older and wiser, and wore boots regularly instead of going +barefooted when they got the chance, Puck was as kind to them as ever, +and introduced them to more people of the old days. + +He was careful, of course, to take away their memory of their walks and +conversations afterwards, but otherwise he did not interfere; and Dan +and Una would find the strangest sort of persons in their gardens or +woods. + +In the stories that follow I am trying to tell something about those +people. + + + + +COLD IRON + + +When Dan and Una had arranged to go out before breakfast, they did not +remember that it was Midsummer Morning. They only wanted to see the +otter which, old Hobden said, had been fishing their brook for weeks; +and early morning was the time to surprise him. As they tiptoed out of +the house into the wonderful stillness, the church clock struck five. +Dan took a few steps across the dew-blobbed lawn, and looked at his +black footprints. + +'I think we ought to be kind to our poor boots,' he said. 'They'll get +horrid wet.' + +It was their first summer in boots, and they hated them, so they took +them off, and slung them round their necks, and paddled joyfully over +the dripping turf where the shadows lay the wrong way, like evening in +the East. The sun was well up and warm, but by the brook the last of +the night mist still fumed off the water. They picked up the chain of +otter's footprints on the mud, and followed it from the bank, between +the weeds and the drenched mowing, while the birds shouted with +surprise. Then the track left the brook and became a smear, as though a +log had been dragged along. + +They traced it into Three Cows meadow, over the mill-sluice to the +Forge, round Hobden's garden, and then up the slope till it ran out +on the short turf and fern of Pook's Hill, and they heard the +cock-pheasants crowing in the woods behind them. + +'No use!' said Dan, questing like a puzzled hound. 'The dew's drying +off, and old Hobden says otters'll travel for miles.' + +'I'm sure we've travelled miles.' Una fanned herself with her hat. 'How +still it is! It's going to be a regular roaster.' She looked down the +valley, where no chimney yet smoked. + +'Hobden's up!' Dan pointed to the open door of the Forge cottage. 'What +d'you suppose he has for breakfast?' 'One of them. He says they eat good +all times of the year,' Una jerked her head at some stately pheasants +going down to the brook for a drink. + +A few steps farther on a fox broke almost under their bare feet, yapped, +and trotted off. + +'Ah, Mus' Reynolds--Mus' Reynolds'--Dan was quoting from old +Hobden,--'if I knowed all you knowed, I'd know something.' [See 'The +Winged Hats' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.] + +I say,'--Una lowered her voice--'you know that funny feeling of things +having happened before. I felt it when you said "Mus' Reynolds."' + +'So did I,' Dan began. 'What is it?' + +They faced each other, stammering with excitement. + +'Wait a shake! I'll remember in a minute. Wasn't it something about a +fox--last year? Oh, I nearly had it then!' Dan cried. + +'Be quiet!' said Una, prancing excitedly. 'There was something happened +before we met the fox last year. Hills! Broken Hills--the play at the +theatre--see what you see--' + +'I remember now,' Dan shouted. 'It's as plain as the nose on your +face--Pook's Hill--Puck's Hill--Puck!' + +'I remember, too,' said Una. 'And it's Midsummer Day again!' The young +fern on a knoll rustled, and Puck walked out, chewing a green-topped +rush. + +'Good Midsummer Morning to you! Here's a happy meeting,' said he. They +shook hands all round, and asked questions. + +'You've wintered well,' he said after a while, and looked them up and +down. 'Nothing much wrong with you, seemingly.' + +'They've put us into boots,' said Una. 'Look at my feet--they're all +pale white, and my toes are squidged together awfully.' + +'Yes--boots make a difference.' Puck wriggled his brown, square, hairy +foot, and cropped a dandelion flower between the big toe and the next. + +'I could do that--last year,' Dan said dismally, as he tried and failed. +'And boots simply ruin one's climbing.' + +'There must be some advantage to them, I suppose,'said Puck, or folk +wouldn't wear them. Shall we come this way?' They sauntered along side +by side till they reached the gate at the far end of the hillside. Here +they halted just like cattle, and let the sun warm their backs while +they listened to the flies in the wood. + +'Little Lindens is awake,' said Una, as she hung with her chin on the +top rail. 'See the chimney smoke?' + +'Today's Thursday, isn't it?' Puck turned to look at the old pink +farmhouse across the little valley. 'Mrs Vincey's baking day. Bread +should rise well this weather.' He yawned, and that set them both +yawning. + +The bracken about rustled and ticked and shook in every direction. They +felt that little crowds were stealing past. + +'Doesn't that sound like--er--the People of the Hills?'said Una. + +'It's the birds and wild things drawing up to the woods before people +get about,' said Puck, as though he were Ridley the keeper. + +'Oh, we know that. I only said it sounded like.' + +'As I remember 'em, the People of the Hills used to make more noise. +They'd settle down for the day rather like small birds settling down for +the night. But that was in the days when they carried the high hand. Oh, +me! The deeds that I've had act and part in, you'd scarcely believe!' + +'I like that!' said Dan. 'After all you told us last year, too!' + +'Only, the minute you went away, you made us forget everything,' said +Una. + +Puck laughed and shook his head. 'I shall this year, too. I've given you +seizin of Old England, and I've taken away your Doubt and Fear, but your +memory and remembrance between whiles I'll keep where old Billy Trott +kept his night-lines--and that's where he could draw 'em up and hide 'em +at need. Does that suit?' He twinkled mischievously. + +'It's got to suit,'said Una, and laughed. 'We Can't magic back at you.' +She folded her arms and leaned against the gate. 'Suppose, now, you +wanted to magic me into something--an otter? Could you?' + +'Not with those boots round your neck.' 'I'll take them off.' She threw +them on the turf. Dan's followed immediately. 'Now!' she said. + +'Less than ever now you've trusted me. Where there's true faith, there's +no call for magic.' Puck's slow smile broadened all over his face. + +'But what have boots to do with it?' said Una, perching on the gate. + +'There's Cold Iron in them,' said Puck, and settled beside her. 'Nails +in the soles, I mean. It makes a difference.' + +'How?' 'Can't you feel it does? You wouldn't like to go back to bare +feet again, same as last year, would you? Not really?' + +'No-o. I suppose I shouldn't--not for always. I'm growing up, you know,' +said Una. + +'But you told us last year, in the Long Slip--at the theatre--that you +didn't mind Cold Iron,'said Dan. + +'I don't; but folks in housen, as the People of the Hills call them, +must be ruled by Cold Iron. Folk in housen are born on the near side of +Cold Iron--there's iron 'in every man's house, isn't there? They handle +Cold Iron every day of their lives, and their fortune's made or spoilt +by Cold Iron in some shape or other. That's how it goes with Flesh and +Blood, and one can't prevent it.' + +'I don't quite see. How do you mean?'said Dan. + +'It would take me some time to tell you.' + +'Oh, it's ever so long to breakfast,' said Dan. 'We looked in the +larder before we came out.' He unpocketed one big hunk of bread and Una +another, which they shared with Puck. + +'That's Little Lindens' baking,' he said, as his white teeth sunk in +it. 'I know Mrs Vincey's hand.' He ate with a slow sideways thrust and +grind, just like old Hobden, and, like Hobden, hardly dropped a crumb. +The sun flashed on Little Lindens' windows, and the cloudless sky grew +stiller and hotter in the valley. + +'AH--Cold Iron,' he said at last to the impatient children. 'Folk in +housen, as the People of the Hills say, grow careless about Cold Iron. +They'll nail the Horseshoe over the front door, and forget to put it +over the back. Then, some time or other, the People of the Hills slip +in, find the cradle-babe in the corner, and--' + +'Oh, I know. Steal it and leave a changeling,'Una cried. + +'No,' said Puck firmly. 'All that talk of changelings is people's excuse +for their own neglect. Never believe 'em. I'd whip 'em at the cart-tail +through three parishes if I had my way.' + +'But they don't do it now,' said Una. + +'Whip, or neglect children? Umm! Some folks and some fields never alter. +But the People of the Hills didn't work any changeling tricks. +They'd tiptoe in and whisper and weave round the cradle-babe in the +chimney-corner--a fag-end of a charm here, or half a spell there--like +kettles singing; but when the babe's mind came to bud out afterwards, +it would act differently from other people in its station. That's no +advantage to man or maid. So I wouldn't allow it with my folks' babies +here. I told Sir Huon so once.' + +'Who was Sir Huon?' Dan asked, and Puck turned on him in quiet +astonishment. + +'Sir Huon of Bordeaux--he succeeded King Oberon. He had been a bold +knight once, but he was lost on the road to Babylon, a long while back. +Have you ever heard "How many miles to Babylon?"?' + +'Of course,' said Dan, flushing. + +'Well, Sir Huon was young when that song was new. But about tricks +on mortal babies. I said to Sir Huon in the fern here, on just such a +morning as this: "If you crave to act and influence on folk in housen, +which I know is your desire, why don't you take some human cradle-babe +by fair dealing, and bring him up among yourselves on the far side +of Cold Iron--as Oberon did in time past? Then you could make him a +splendid fortune, and send him out into the world." + +'"Time past is past time," says Sir Huon. "I doubt if we could do it. +For one thing, the babe would have to be taken without wronging man, +woman, or child. For another, he'd have to be born on the far side of +Cold Iron--in some house where no Cold Iron ever stood; and for yet the +third, he'd have to be kept from Cold Iron all his days till we let +him find his fortune. No, it's not easy," he said, and he rode off, +thinking. You see, Sir Huon had been a man once. 'I happened to attend +Lewes Market next Woden's Day even, and watched the slaves being sold +there--same as pigs are sold at Robertsbridge Market nowadays. Only, +the pigs have rings on their noses, and the slaves had rings round their +necks.' + +'What sort of rings?' said Dan. + +'A ring of Cold Iron, four fingers wide, and a thumb thick, just like +a quoit, but with a snap to it for to snap round the slave's neck. They +used to do a big trade in slave-rings at the Forge here, and ship +them to all parts of Old England, packed in oak sawdust. But, as I was +saying, there was a farmer out of the Weald who had bought a woman with +a babe in her arms, and he didn't want any encumbrances to her driving +his beasts home for him.' + +'Beast himself!' said Una, and kicked her bare heel on the gate. + +'So he blamed the auctioneer. "It's none o' my baby," the wench puts in. +"I took it off a woman in our gang who died on Terrible Down yesterday." +"I'll take it off to the church then," says the farmer. "Mother +Church'll make a monk of it, and we'll step along home." + +'It was dusk then. He slipped down to St Pancras' Church, and laid the +babe at the cold chapel door. I breathed on the back of his stooping +neck--and--I've heard he never could be warm at any fire afterwards. I +should have been surprised if he could! Then I whipped up the babe, and +came flying home here like a bat to his belfry. + +'On the dewy break of morning of Thor's own day--just such a day as +this--I laid the babe outside the Hill here, and the People flocked up +and wondered at the sight. + +'"You've brought him, then?" Sir Huon said, staring like any mortal man. + +'"Yes, and he's brought his mouth with him, too," I said. The babe was +crying loud for his breakfast. + +'"What is he?" says Sir Huon, when the womenfolk had drawn him under to +feed him. + +'"Full Moon and Morning Star may know," I says. "I don't. By what I +could make out of him in the moonlight, he's without brand or blemish. +I'll answer for it that he's born on the far side of Cold Iron, for he +was born under a shaw on Terrible Down, and I've wronged neither man, +woman, nor child in taking him, for he is the son of a dead slave-woman." + +'"All to the good, Robin," Sir Huon said. "He'll be the less anxious to +leave us. Oh, we'll give him a splendid fortune, and we shall act and +influence on folk in housen as we have always craved." His Lady came up +then, and drew him under to watch the babe's wonderful doings.' 'Who was +his Lady?'said Dan. 'The Lady Esclairmonde. She had been a woman once, +till she followed Sir Huon across the fern, as we say. Babies are no +special treat to me--I've watched too many of them--so I stayed on the +Hill. Presently I heard hammering down at the Forge there.'Puck pointed +towards Hobden's cottage. 'It was too early for any workmen, but it +passed through my mind that the breaking day was Thor's own day. A slow +north-east wind blew up and set the oaks sawing and fretting in a way I +remembered; so I slipped over to see what I could see.' + +'And what did you see?' 'A smith forging something or other out of Cold +Iron. When it was finished, he weighed it in his hand (his back was +towards me), and tossed it from him a longish quoit-throw down the +valley. I saw Cold Iron flash in the sun, but I couldn't quite make out +where it fell. That didn't trouble me. I knew it would be found sooner +or later by someone.' + +'How did you know?'Dan went on. + +'Because I knew the Smith that made it,' said Puck quietly. + +'Wayland Smith?' Una suggested. [See 'Weland's Sword' in PUCK OF POOK'S +HILL.] + +'No. I should have passed the time o' day with Wayland Smith, of course. +This other was different. So'--Puck made a queer crescent in the air +with his finger--'I counted the blades of grass under my nose till the +wind dropped and he had gone--he and his Hammer.' + +'Was it Thor then?' Una murmured under her breath. + +'Who else? It was Thor's own day.' Puck repeated the sign. 'I didn't +tell Sir Huon or his Lady what I'd seen. Borrow trouble for yourself if +that's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbours. Moreover, +I might have been mistaken about the Smith's work. He might have been +making things for mere amusement, though it wasn't like him, or he might +have thrown away an old piece of made iron. One can never be sure. So I +held my tongue and enjoyed the babe. He was a wonderful child--and the +People of the Hills were so set on him, they wouldn't have believed me. +He took to me wonderfully. As soon as he could walk he'd putter forth +with me all about my Hill here. Fern makes soft falling! He knew when +day broke on earth above, for he'd thump, thump, thump, like an old +buck-rabbit in a bury, and I'd hear him say "Opy!" till some one who +knew the Charm let him out, and then it would be "Robin! Robin!" all +round Robin Hood's barn, as we say, till he'd found me.' + +'The dear!' said Una. 'I'd like to have seen him!' 'Yes, he was a boy. +And when it came to learning his words--spells and such-like--he'd sit +on the Hill in the long shadows, worrying out bits of charms to try on +passersby. And when the bird flew to him, or the tree bowed to him for +pure love's sake (like everything else on my Hill), he'd shout, "Robin! +Look--see! Look, see, Robin!" and sputter out some spell or other that +they had taught him, all wrong end first, till I hadn't the heart to +tell him it was his own dear self and not the words that worked the +wonder. When he got more abreast of his words, and could cast spells for +sure, as we say, he took more and more notice of things and people in +the world. People, of course, always drew him, for he was mortal all +through. + +'Seeing that he was free to move among folk in housen, under or over +Cold Iron, I used to take him along with me, night-walking, where he +could watch folk, and I could keep him from touching Cold Iron. That +wasn't so difficult as it sounds, because there are plenty of things +besides Cold Iron in housen to catch a boy's fancy. He was a handful, +though! I shan't forget when I took him to Little Lindens--his first +night under a roof. The smell of the rushlights and the bacon on the +beams--they were stuffing a feather-bed too, and it was a drizzling warm +night--got into his head. Before I could stop him--we were hiding in +the bakehouse--he'd whipped up a storm of wildfire, with flashlights +and voices, which sent the folk shrieking into the garden, and a girl +overset a hive there, and--of course he didn't know till then such +things could touch him--he got badly stung, and came home with his face +looking like kidney potatoes! 'You can imagine how angry Sir Huon and +Lady Esclairmonde were with poor Robin! They said the Boy was never to +be trusted with me night-walking any more--and he took about as much +notice of their order as he did of the bee-stings. Night after night, +as soon as it was dark, I'd pick up his whistle in the wet fern, and +off we'd flit together among folk in housen till break of day--he asking +questions, and I answering according to my knowledge. Then we fell into +mischief again!'Puck shook till the gate rattled. + +'We came across a man up at Brightling who was beating his wife with +a bat in the garden. I was just going to toss the man over his own +woodlump when the Boy jumped the hedge and ran at him. Of course the +woman took her husband's part, and while the man beat him, the woman +scratted his face. It wasn't till I danced among the cabbages like +Brightling Beacon all ablaze that they gave up and ran indoors. The +Boy's fine green-and-gold clothes were torn all to pieces, and he had +been welted in twenty places with the man's bat, and scratted by the +woman's nails to pieces. He looked like a Robertsbridge hopper on a +Monday morning. + +'"Robin," said he, while I was trying to clean him down with a bunch of +hay, "I don't quite understand folk in housen. I went to help that old +woman, and she hit me, Robin!" + +'"What else did you expect?" I said. "That was the one time when you +might have worked one of your charms, instead of running into three +times your weight." + +'"I didn't think," he says. "But I caught the man one on the head that +was as good as any charm. Did you see it work, Robin?" + +'"Mind your nose," I said. "Bleed it on a dockleaf--not your sleeve, for +pity's sake." I knew what the Lady Esclairmonde would say. + +'He didn't care. He was as happy as a gipsy with a stolen pony, and the +front part of his gold coat, all blood and grass stains, looked like +ancient sacrifices. + +'Of course the People of the Hills laid the blame on me. The Boy could +do nothing wrong, in their eyes. + +'"You are bringing him up to act and influence on folk in housen, when +you're ready to let him go," I said. "Now he's begun to do it, why do +you cry shame on me? That's no shame. It's his nature drawing him to his +kind." + +'"But we don't want him to begin that way," the Lady Esclairmonde +said. "We intend a splendid fortune for him--not your flitter-by-night, +hedge-jumping, gipsy-work." + +'"I don't blame you, Robin," says Sir Huon, "but I do think you might +look after the Boy more closely." + +'"I've kept him away from Cold Iron these sixteen years," I said. "You +know as well as I do, the first time he touches Cold Iron he'll find +his own fortune, in spite of everything you intend for him. You owe me +something for that." + +'Sir Huon, having been a man, was going to allow me the right of it, but +the Lady Esclairmonde, being the Mother of all Mothers, over-persuaded +him. + +'"We're very grateful," Sir Huon said, "but we think that just for the +present you are about too much with him on the Hill." + +'"Though you have said it," I said, "I will give you a second chance." +I did not like being called to account for my doings on my own Hill. I +wouldn't have stood it even that far except I loved the Boy. + +'"No! No!" says the Lady Esclairmonde. "He's never any trouble when he's +left to me and himself. It's your fault." + +'"You have said it," I answered. "Hear me! From now on till the Boy has +found his fortune, whatever that may be, I vow to you all on my Hill, by +Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, and by the Hammer of Asa Thor"--again Puck made +that curious double-cut in the air--'"that you may leave me out of +all your counts and reckonings." Then I went out'--he snapped his +fingers--'like the puff of a candle, and though they called and cried, +they made nothing by it. I didn't promise not to keep an eye on the Boy, +though. I watched him close--close--close! + +'When he found what his people had forced me to do, he gave them a piece +of his mind, but they all kissed and cried round him, and being only +a boy, he came over to their way of thinking (I don't blame him), and +called himself unkind and ungrateful; and it all ended in fresh shows +and plays, and magics to distract him from folk in housen. Dear heart +alive! How he used to call and call on me, and I couldn't answer, or +even let him know that I was near!' + +'Not even once?' said Una. 'If he was very lonely?' 'No, he couldn't,' +said Dan, who had been thinking. 'Didn't you swear by the Hammer of Thor +that you wouldn't, Puck?' + +'By that Hammer!' was the deep rumbled reply. Then he came back to his +soft speaking voice. 'And the Boy was lonely, when he couldn't see me +any more. He began to try to learn all learning (he had good teachers), +but I saw him lift his eyes from the big black books towards folk in +housen all the time. He studied song-making (good teachers he had too!), +but he sang those songs with his back toward the Hill, and his face +toward folk. I know! I have sat and grieved over him grieving within a +rabbit's jump of him. Then he studied the High, Low, and Middle Magic. +He had promised the Lady Esclairmonde he would never go near folk in +housen; so he had to make shows and shadows for his mind to chew on.' +'What sort of shows?' said Dan. + +'Just boy's Magic as we say. I'll show you some, some time. It pleased +him for the while, and it didn't hurt any one in particular except a few +men coming home late from the taverns. But I knew what it was a sign of, +and I followed him like a weasel follows a rabbit. As good a boy as ever +lived! I've seen him with Sir Huon and the Lady Esclairmonde stepping +just as they stepped to avoid the track of Cold Iron in a furrow, or +walking wide of some old ash-tot because a man had left his swop-hook or +spade there; and all his heart aching to go straightforward among folk +in housen all the time. Oh, a good boy! They always intended a fine +fortune for him--but they could never find it in their heart to let him +begin. I've heard that many warned them, but they wouldn't be warned. So +it happened as it happened. + +'One hot night I saw the Boy roving about here wrapped in his flaming +discontents. There was flash on flash against the clouds, and rush on +rush of shadows down the valley till the shaws were full of his hounds +giving tongue, and the woodways were packed with his knights in armour +riding down into the water-mists--all his own Magic, of course. Behind +them you could see great castles lifting slow and splendid on arches +of moonshine, with maidens waving their hands at the windows, which all +turned into roaring rivers; and then would come the darkness of his +own young heart wiping out the whole slateful. But boy's Magic doesn't +trouble me--or Merlin's either for that matter. I followed the Boy by +the flashes and the whirling wildfire of his discontent, and oh, but I +grieved for him! Oh, but I grieved for him! He pounded back and +forth like a bullock in a strange pasture--sometimes alone--sometimes +waist-deep among his shadow-hounds--sometimes leading his shadow-knights +on a hawk-winged horse to rescue his shadow-girls. I never guessed he +had such Magic at his command; but it's often that way with boys. + +'Just when the owl comes home for the second time, I saw Sir Huon and +the Lady ride down my Hill, where there's not much Magic allowed except +mine. They were very pleased at the Boy's Magic--the valley flared with +it--and I heard them settling his splendid fortune when they should +find it in their hearts to let him go to act and influence among folk in +housen. Sir Huon was for making him a great King somewhere or other, and +the Lady was for making him a marvellous wise man whom all should praise +for his skill and kindness. She was very kind-hearted. + +'Of a sudden we saw the flashes of his discontents turned back on the +clouds, and his shadow-hounds stopped baying. + +'"There's Magic fighting Magic over yonder," the Lady Esclairmonde +cried, reigning up. "Who is against him?" + +'I could have told her, but I did not count it any of my business to +speak of Asa Thor's comings and goings. + +'How did you know?'said Una. + +'A slow North-East wind blew up, sawing and fretting through the oaks in +a way I remembered. The wildfire roared up, one last time in one sheet, +and snuffed out like a rushlight, and a bucketful of stinging hail fell. +We heard the Boy walking in the Long Slip--where I first met you. + +'"Here, oh, come here!" said the Lady Esclairmonde, and stretched out +her arms in the dark. + +'He was coming slowly, but he stumbled in the footpath, being, of +course, mortal man. + +'"Why, what's this?" he said to himself. We three heard him. + +'"Hold, lad, hold! 'Ware Cold Iron!" said Sir Huon, and they two swept +down like nightjars, crying as they rode. + +'I ran at their stirrups, but it was too late. We felt that the Boy +had touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of the Hill +shied off, and whipped round, snorting. + +'Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own shape; so I +did. + +'"Whatever it is," I said, "he has taken hold of it. Now we must find +out whatever it is that he has taken hold of, for that will be his +fortune." + +'"Come here, Robin," the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard my voice. "I +don't know what I've hold of." + +'"It is in your hands," I called back. "Tell us if it is hard and cold, +with jewels atop. For that will be a King's Sceptre." + +'"Not by a furrow-long," he said, and stooped and tugged in the dark. +We heard him. '"Has it a handle and two cutting edges?" I called. "For +that'll be a Knight's Sword." + +'"No, it hasn't," he says. "It's neither ploughshare, whittle, hook, +nor crook, nor aught I've yet seen men handle." By this time he was +scratting in the dirt to prise it up. + +'"Whatever it is, you know who put it there, Robin," said Sir Huon to +me, "or you would not ask those questions. You should have told me as +soon as you knew." + +'"What could you or I have done against the Smith that made it and laid +it for him to find?" I said, and I whispered Sir Huon what I had seen at +the Forge on Thor's Day, when the babe was first brought to the Hill. + +'"Oh, good-bye, our dreams!" said Sir Huon. "It's neither sceptre, +sword, nor plough! Maybe yet it's a bookful of learning, bound with iron +clasps. There's a chance for a splendid fortune in that sometimes." + +'But we knew we were only speaking to comfort ourselves, and the Lady +Esclairmonde, having been a woman, said so. + +'"Thur aie! Thor help us!" the Boy called. "It is round, without end, +Cold Iron, four fingers wide and a thumb thick, and there is writing on +the breadth of it." + +'"Read the writing if you have the learning," I called. The darkness had +lifted by then, and the owl was out over the fern again. + +'He called back, reading the runes on the iron: + + "Few can see + Further forth + Than when the child + Meets the Cold Iron." + +And there he stood, in clear starlight, with a new, heavy, shining +slave-ring round his proud neck. + +'"Is this how it goes?" he asked, while the Lady Esclairmonde cried. + +'"That is how it goes," I said. He hadn't snapped the catch home yet, +though. + +'"What fortune does it mean for him?" said Sir Huon, while the Boy +fingered the ring. "You who walk under Cold Iron, you must tell us and +teach us." + +'"Tell I can, but teach I cannot," I said. "The virtue of the Ring is +only that he must go among folk in housen henceforward, doing what they +want done, or what he knows they need, all Old England over. Never will +he be his own master, nor yet ever any man's. He will get half he gives, +and give twice what he gets, till his life's last breath; and if he lays +aside his load before he draws that last breath, all his work will go +for naught." + +'"Oh, cruel, wicked Thor!" cried the Lady Esclairmonde. "Ah, look see, +all of you! The catch is still open! He hasn't locked it. He can still +take it off. He can still come back. Come back!" She went as near as +she dared, but she could not lay hands on Cold Iron. The Boy could have +taken it off, yes. We waited to see if he would, but he put up his hand, +and the snap locked home. + +'"What else could I have done?" said he. + +'"Surely, then, you will do," I said. "Morning's coming, and if you +three have any farewells to make, make them now, for, after sunrise, +Cold Iron must be your master." 'So the three sat down, cheek by wet +cheek, telling over their farewells till morning light. As good a boy as +ever lived, he was.' + +'And what happened to him?' asked Dan. + +'When morning came, Cold Iron was master of him and his fortune, and +he went to work among folk in housen. Presently he came across a maid +like-minded with himself, and they were wedded, and had bushels of +children, as the saying is. Perhaps you'll meet some of his breed, this +year.' + +'Thank you,' said Una. 'But what did the poor Lady Esclairmonde do?' + +'What can you do when Asa Thor lays the Cold Iron in a lad's path? She +and Sir Huon were comforted to think they had given the Boy good store +of learning to act and influence on folk in housen. For he was a good +boy! Isn't it getting on for breakfast-time? I'll walk with you a +piece.' + +When they were well in the centre of the bone-dry fern, Dan nudged Una, +who stopped and put on a boot as quickly as she could. 'Now,' she said, +'you can't get any Oak, Ash, and Thorn leaves from here, and'--she +balanced wildly on one leg--'I'm standing on Cold Iron. What'll you do +if we don't go away?' + +'E-eh? Of all mortal impudence!'said Puck, as Dan, also in one boot, +grabbed his sister's hand to steady himself. He walked round them, +shaking with delight. 'You think I can only work with a handful of dead +leaves? This comes of taking away your Doubt and Fear! I'll show you!' + + +A minute later they charged into old Hobden at his simple breakfast of +cold roast pheasant, shouting that there was a wasps' nest in the fern +which they had nearly stepped on, and asking him to come and smoke it +out. 'It's too early for wops-nests, an' I don't go diggin' in the Hill, +not for shillin's,' said the old man placidly. 'You've a thorn in your +foot, Miss Una. Sit down, and put on your t'other boot. You're too old +to be caperin' barefoot on an empty stomach. Stay it with this chicken +o' mine.' + + + + +Cold Iron + + + 'Gold is for the mistress--silver for the maid! + Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.' + 'Good!' said the Baron, sitting in his hall, + 'But Iron--Cold Iron--is master of them all!' + + So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege, + Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege-- + 'Nay!' said the cannoneer on the castle wall, + 'But Iron--Cold Iron--shall be master of you all!' + + Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong, + When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along! + He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, + And Iron--Cold Iron--was master of it all! + + Yet his King spake kindly (Oh, how kind a Lord!) + 'What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?' + 'Nay!' said the Baron, 'mock not at my fall, + For Iron--Cold Iron--is master of men all.' + + 'Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown-- + Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.' + 'As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, + For Iron--Cold Iron--must be master of men all!' + + Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!) + 'Here is Bread and here is Wine--sit and sup with me. + Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall + How Iron--Cold Iron--can be master of men all!' + + He took the Wine and blessed It; He blessed and brake the Bread. + With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said: + 'Look! These Hands they pierced with nails outside my city wall + Show Iron--Cold Iron--to be master of men all! + + 'Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong, + Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong. + I forgive thy treason--I redeem thy fall-- + For Iron--Cold Iron--must be master of men all!' + + 'Crowns are for the valiant--sceptres for the bold! + Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.' + 'Nay!' said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, + 'But Iron--Cold Iron--is master of men all! + Iron, out of Calvary, is master of men all!' + + + + +GLORIANA + + + +The Two Cousins + + + Valour and Innocence + Have latterly gone hence + To certain death by certain shame attended. + Envy--ah! even to tears!-- + The fortune of their years + Which, though so few, yet so divinely ended. + + Scarce had they lifted up + Life's full and fiery cup, + Than they had set it down untouched before them. + Before their day arose + They beckoned it to close-- + Close in destruction and confusion o'er them. + + They did not stay to ask + What prize should crown their task, + Well sure that prize was such as no man strives for; + But passed into eclipse, + Her kiss upon their lips-- + Even Belphoebe's, whom they gave their lives for! + + + + +Gloriana + + +Willow Shaw, the little fenced wood where the hop-poles are stacked like +Indian wigwams, had been given to Dan and Una for their very own kingdom +when they were quite small. As they grew older, they contrived to keep +it most particularly private. Even Phillips, the gardener, told them +every time that he came in to take a hop-pole for his beans, and old +Hobden would no more have thought of setting his rabbit-wires there +without leave, given fresh each spring, than he would have torn down the +calico and marking ink notice on the big willow which said: 'Grown-ups +not allowed in the Kingdom unless brought.' + +Now you can understand their indignation when, one blowy July afternoon, +as they were going up for a potato-roast, they saw somebody moving +among the trees. They hurled themselves over the gate, dropping half the +potatoes, and while they were picking them up Puck came out of a wigwam. + +'Oh, it's you, is it?' said Una. 'We thought it was people.' 'I saw you +were angry--from your legs,' he answered with a grin. + +'Well, it's our own Kingdom--not counting you, of course.' + +'That's rather why I came. A lady here wants to see you.' + +'What about?' said Dan cautiously. 'Oh, just Kingdoms and things. She +knows about Kingdoms.' + +There was a lady near the fence dressed in a long dark cloak that hid +everything except her high red-heeled shoes. Her face was half covered +by a black silk fringed mask, without goggles. And yet she did not look +in the least as if she motored. + +Puck led them up to her and bowed solemnly. Una made the best +dancing-lesson curtsy she could remember. The lady answered with a long, +deep, slow, billowy one. + +'Since it seems that you are a Queen of this Kingdom,'she said, 'I can +do no less than acknowledge your sovereignty.' She turned sharply on +staring Dan. 'What's in your head, lad? Manners?' + +'I was thinking how wonderfully you did that curtsy,' he answered. + +She laughed a rather shrill laugh. 'You're a courtier already. Do you +know anything of dances, wench--or Queen, must I say?' + +'I've had some lessons, but I can't really dance a bit,' said Una. + +'You should learn, then.' The lady moved forward as though she would +teach her at once. 'It gives a woman alone among men or her enemies +time to think how she shall win or--lose. A woman can only work in man's +play-time. Heigho!'She sat down on the bank. + +Old Middenboro, the lawn-mower pony, stumped across the paddock and hung +his sorrowful head over the fence. + +'A pleasant Kingdom,' said the lady, looking round. 'Well enclosed. And +how does your Majesty govern it? Who is your Minister?' + +Una did not quite understand. 'We don't play that,' she said. + +'Play?' The lady threw up her hands and laughed. + +'We have it for our own, together,' Dan explained. + +'And d'you never quarrel, young Burleigh?' + +'Sometimes, but then we don't tell.' + +The lady nodded. 'I've no brats of my own, but I understand keeping a +secret between Queens and their Ministers. Ay de mi! + +But with no disrespect to present majesty, methinks your realm' +small, and therefore likely to be coveted by man and beast. For Is +example'--she pointed to Middenboro--'yonder old horse, with the face of +a Spanish friar--does he never break in?' + +'He can't. Old Hobden stops all our gaps for us,' said Una, 'and we let +Hobden catch rabbits in the Shaw.' + +The lady laughed like a man. 'I see! Hobden catches conies--rabbits--for +himself, and guards your defences for you. Does he make a profit out of +his coney-catching?' + +'We never ask,' said Una. 'Hobden's a particular friend of ours.' +'Hoity-toity!' the lady began angrily. Then she laughed. 'But I forget. +It is your Kingdom. I knew a maid once that had a larger one than this +to defend, and so long as her men kept the fences stopped, she asked 'em +no questions either.' + +'Was she trying to grow flowers?'said Una. + +'No, trees--perdurable trees. Her flowers all withered.' The lady leaned +her head on her hand. + +'They do if you don't look after them. We've got a few. Would you like +to see? I'll fetch you some.' Una ran off to the rank grass in the shade +behind the wigwam, and came back with a handful of red flowers. 'Aren't +they pretty?' she said. 'They're Virginia stock.' + +'Virginia?' said the lady, and lifted them to the fringe of her mask. + +'Yes. They come from Virginia. Did your maid ever plant any?' + +'Not herself--but her men adventured all over the earth to pluck or to +plant flowers for her crown. They judged her worthy of them.' + +'And was she?' said Dan cheerfully. + +'Quien sabe? [who knows?] But at least, while her men toiled abroad she +toiled in England, that they might find a safe home to come back to.' + +'And what was she called?' + +'Gloriana--Belphoebe--Elizabeth of England.' Her voice changed at each +word. + +'You mean Queen Bess?' + +The lady bowed her head a little towards Dan. 'You name her lightly +enough, young Burleigh. What might you know of her?' said she. + +'Well, I--I've seen the little green shoes she left at Brickwall +House--down the road, you know. They're in a glass case--awfully tiny +things.' + +'Oh, Burleigh, Burleigh!' she laughed. 'You are a courtier too soon.' + +'But they are,' Dan insisted. 'As little as dolls' shoes. Did you really +know her well?' + +'Well. She was a--woman. I've been at her Court all my life. Yes, I +remember when she danced after the banquet at Brickwall. They say she +danced Philip of Spain out of a brand-new kingdom that day. Worth the +price of a pair of old shoes--hey?' + +She thrust out one foot, and stooped forward to look at its broad +flashing buckle. + +'You've heard of Philip of Spain--long-suffering Philip,' she said, her +eyes still on the shining stones. 'Faith, what some men will endure at +some women's hands passes belief! If I had been a man, and a woman had +played with me as Elizabeth played with Philip, I would have--' She +nipped off one of the Virginia stocks and held it up between finger +and thumb. 'But for all that'--she began to strip the leaves one by +one--'they say--and I am persuaded--that Philip loved her.' She tossed +her head sideways. + +'I don't quite understand,' said Una. + +'The high heavens forbid that you should, wench!' She swept the flowers +from her lap and stood up in the rush of shadows that the wind chased +through the wood. + +'I should like to know about the shoes,' said Dan. + +'So ye shall, Burleigh. So ye shall, if ye watch me. 'Twill be as good +as a play.' + +'We've never been to a play,' said Una. + +The lady looked at her and laughed. 'I'll make one for you. Watch! You +are to imagine that she--Gloriana, Belphoebe, Elizabeth--has gone on a +progress to Rye to comfort her sad heart (maids are often melancholic), +and while she halts at Brickwall House, the village--what was its name?' +She pushed Puck with her foot. + +'Norgem,' he croaked, and squatted by the wigwam. + +'Norgem village loyally entertains her with a masque or play, and a +Latin oration spoken by the parson, for whose false quantities, if I'd +made 'em in my girlhood, I should have been whipped.' + +'You whipped?' said Dan. + +'Soundly, sirrah, soundly! She stomachs the affront to her scholarship, +makes her grateful, gracious thanks from the teeth outwards, thus'--(the +lady yawned)--'Oh, a Queen may love her subjects in her heart, and yet +be dog-wearied of 'em 'in body and mind--and so sits down'--her skirts +foamed about her as she sat--'to a banquet beneath Brickwall Oak. Here +for her sins she is waited upon by--What were the young cockerels' names +that served Gloriana at table?' + +'Frewens, Courthopes, Fullers, Husseys,' Puck began. + +She held up her long jewelled hand. 'Spare the rest! They were the best +blood of Sussex, and by so much the more clumsy in handling the dishes +and plates. Wherefore'--she looked funnily over her shoulder--'you +are to think of Gloriana in a green and gold-laced habit, dreadfully +expecting that the jostling youths behind her would, of pure jealousy or +devotion, spatter it with sauces and wines. The gown was Philip's gift, +too! At this happy juncture a Queen's messenger, mounted and mired, +spurs up the Rye road and delivers her a letter'--she giggled--'a letter +from a good, simple, frantic Spanish gentleman called--Don Philip.' + +'That wasn't Philip, King of Spain?'Dan asked. + +'Truly, it was. 'Twixt you and me and the bedpost, young Burleigh, these +kings and queens are very like men and women, and I've heard they write +each other fond, foolish letters that none of their ministers should +open.' + +'Did her ministers ever open Queen Elizabeth's letters?' said Una. + +'Faith, yes! But she'd have done as much for theirs, any day. You are +to think of Gloriana, then (they say she had a pretty hand), excusing +herself thus to the company--for the Queen's time is never her own--and, +while the music strikes up, reading Philip's letter, as I do.' She drew +a real letter from her pocket, and held it out almost at arm's length, +like the old post-mistress in the village when she reads telegrams. + +'Hm! Hm! Hm! Philip writes as ever most lovingly. He says his Gloriana +is cold, for which reason he burns for her through a fair written page.' +She turned it with a snap. 'What's here? Philip complains that certain +of her gentlemen have fought against his generals in the Low Countries. +He prays her to hang 'em when they re-enter her realms. (Hm, that's as +may be.) Here's a list of burnt shipping slipped between two vows of +burning adoration. Oh, poor Philip! His admirals at sea--no less than +three of 'em--have been boarded, sacked, and scuttled on their lawful +voyages by certain English mariners (gentlemen, he will not call them), +who are now at large and working more piracies in his American ocean, +which the Pope gave him. (He and the Pope should guard it, then!) Philip +hears, but his devout ears will not credit it, that Gloriana in some +fashion countenances these villains' misdeeds, shares in their booty, +and--oh, shame!---has even lent them ships royal for their sinful +thefts. Therefore he requires (which is a word Gloriana loves not), +requires that she shall hang 'em when they return to England, and +afterwards shall account to him for all the goods and gold they have +plundered. A most loving request! If Gloriana will not be Philip's +bride, she shall be his broker and his butcher! Should she still +be stiff-necked, he writes--see where the pen digged the innocent +paper!---that he hath both the means and the intention to be revenged +on her. Aha! Now we come to the Spaniard in his shirt!' (She waved +the letter merrily.) 'Listen here! Philip will prepare for Gloriana a +destruction from the West--a destruction from the West--far exceeding +that which Pedro de Avila wrought upon the Huguenots. And he rests and +remains, kissing her feet and her hands, her slave, her enemy, or her +conqueror, as he shall find that she uses him.' + +She thrust back the letter under her cloak, and went on acting, but in +a softer voice. 'All this while--hark to it--the wind blows through +Brickwall Oak, the music plays, and, with the company's eyes upon her, +the Queen of England must think what this means. She cannot remember the +name of Pedro de Avila, nor what he did to the Huguenots, nor when, nor +where. She can only see darkly some dark motion moving in Philip's dark +mind, for he hath never written before in this fashion. She must smile +above the letter as though it were good news from her ministers--the +smile that tires the mouth and the poor heart. What shall she do?' Again +her voice changed. + +'You are to fancy that the music of a sudden wavers away. Chris Hatton, +Captain of her bodyguard, quits the table all red and ruffled, and +Gloriana's virgin ear catches the clash of swords at work behind a wall. +The mothers of Sussex look round to count their chicks--I mean those +young gamecocks that waited on her. Two dainty youths have stepped +aside into Brickwall garden with rapier and dagger on a private point of +honour. They are haled out through the gate, disarmed and glaring--the +lively image of a brace of young Cupids transformed into pale, panting +Cains. Ahem! Gloriana beckons awfully--thus! They come up for judgement. +Their lives and estates lie at her mercy whom they have doubly offended, +both as Queen and woman. But la! what will not foolish young men do for +a beautiful maid?' + +'Why? What did she do? What had they done?' said Una. + +'Hsh! You mar the play! Gloriana had guessed the cause of the trouble. +They were handsome lads. So she frowns a while and tells 'em not to be +bigger fools than their mothers had made 'em, and warns 'em, if they do +not kiss and be friends on the instant, she'll have Chris Hatton horse +and birch 'em in the style of the new school at Harrow. (Chris looks +sour at that.) Lastly, because she needed time to think on Philip's +letter burning in her pocket, she signifies her pleasure to dance with +'em and teach 'em better manners. Whereat the revived company call down +Heaven's blessing on her gracious head; Chris and the others prepare +Brickwall House for a dance; and she walks in the clipped garden between +those two lovely young sinners who are both ready to sink for shame. +They confess their fault. It appears that midway in the banquet the +elder--they were cousins--conceived that the Queen looked upon him with +special favour. The younger, taking the look to himself, after some +words gives the elder the lie. Hence, as she guessed, the duel.' + +'And which had she really looked at?' Dan asked. + +'Neither--except to wish them farther off. She was afraid all the while +they'd spill dishes on her gown. She tells 'em this, poor chicks--and it +completes their abasement. When they had grilled long enough, she says: +"And so you would have fleshed your maiden swords for me--for me?" +Faith, they would have been at it again if she'd egged 'em on! but their +swords--oh, prettily they said it!---had been drawn for her once or +twice already. + +'"And where?" says she. "On your hobby-horses before you were breeched?" + +'"On my own ship," says the elder. "My cousin was vice-admiral of our +venture in his pinnace. We would not have you think of us as brawling +children." + +'"No, no," says the younger, and flames like a very Tudor rose. "At +least the Spaniards know us better." + +'"Admiral Boy--Vice-Admiral Babe," says Gloriana, "I cry your pardon. +The heat of these present times ripens childhood to age more quickly +than I can follow. But we are at peace with Spain. Where did you break +your Queen's peace?" '"On the sea called the Spanish Main, though 'tis +no more Spanish than my doublet," says the elder. Guess how that warmed +Gloriana's already melting heart! She would never suffer any sea to be +called Spanish in her private hearing. + +'"And why was I not told? What booty got you, and where have you hid +it? Disclose," says she. "You stand in some danger of the gallows for +pirates." + +'"The axe, most gracious lady," says the elder, "for we are gentle +born." He spoke truth, but no woman can brook contradiction. +"Hoity-toity!" says she, and, but that she remembered that she was +Queen, she'd have cuffed the pair of 'em. "It shall be gallows, hurdle, +and dung-cart if I choose." + +'"Had our Queen known of our going beforehand, Philip might have held +her to blame for some small things we did on the seas," the younger +lisps. + +'"As for treasure," says the elder, "we brought back but our bare lives. +We were wrecked on the Gascons' Graveyard, where our sole company for +three months was the bleached bones of De Avila's men." + +'Gloriana's mind jumped back to Philip's last letter. + +'"De Avila that destroyed the Huguenots? What d'you know of him?" she +says. The music called from the house here, and they three turned back +between the yews. + +'"Simply that De Avila broke in upon a plantation of Frenchmen on that +coast, and very Spaniardly hung them all for heretics--eight hundred +or so. The next year Dominique de Gorgues, a Gascon, broke in upon De +Avila's men, and very justly hung 'em all for murderers--five hundred or +so. No Christians inhabit there now, says the elder lad, though 'tis a +goodly land north of Florida." + +'"How far is it from England?" asks prudent Gloriana. + +'"With a fair wind, six weeks. They say that Philip will plant it again +soon." This was the younger, and he looked at her out of the corner of +his innocent eye. + +'Chris Hatton, fuming, meets and leads her into Brickwall Hall, where +she dances--thus. A woman can think while she dances--can think. I'll +show you. Watch!' + +She took off her cloak slowly, and stood forth in dove-coloured satin, +worked over with pearls that trembled like running water in the running +shadows of the trees. Still talking--more to herself than to the +children--she swam into a majestical dance of the stateliest balancings, +the naughtiest wheelings and turnings aside, the most dignified +sinkings, the gravest risings, all joined together by the elaboratest +interlacing steps and circles. They leaned forward breathlessly to watch +the splendid acting. + +'Would a Spaniard,' she began, looking on the ground, 'speak of his +revenge till his revenge were ripe? No. Yet a man who loved a woman +might threaten her 'in the hope that his threats would make her love +him. Such things have been.' She moved slowly across a bar of sunlight. +'A destruction from the West may signify that Philip means to descend on +Ireland. But then my Irish spies would have had some warning. The Irish +keep no secrets. No--it is not Ireland. Now why--why--why'--the red +shoes clicked and paused--'does Philip name Pedro Melendez de Avila, +a general in his Americas, unless'--she turned more quickly--unless he +intends to work his destruction from the Americas? Did he say De Avila +only to put her off her guard, or for this once has his black +pen betrayed his black heart? We'--she raised herself to her full +height--'England must forestall Master Philip. But not openly,'--she +sank again--'we cannot fight Spain openly--not yet--not yet.' She +stepped three paces as though she were pegging down some snare with her +twinkling shoe-buckles. 'The Queen's mad gentlemen may fight Philip's +poor admirals where they find 'em, but England, Gloriana, Harry's +daughter, must keep the peace. Perhaps, after all, Philip loves her--as +many men and boys do. That may help England. Oh, what shall help +England?' + +She raised her head--the masked head that seemed to have nothing to do +with the busy feet--and stared straight at the children. + +'I think this is rather creepy,' said Una with a shiver. 'I wish she'd +stop.' + +The lady held out her jewelled hand as though she were taking some one +else's hand in the Grand Chain. + +'Can a ship go down into the Gascons' Graveyard and wait there?' she +asked into the air, and passed on rustling. + +'She's pretending to ask one of the cousins, isn't she?' said Dan, and +Puck nodded. + +Back she came in the silent, swaying, ghostly dance. They saw she was +smiling beneath the mask, and they could hear her breathing hard. + +'I cannot lend you any of my ships for the venture; Philip would hear +of it,' she whispered over her shoulder; 'but as much guns and powder as +you ask, if you do not ask too--'Her voice shot up and she stamped her +foot thrice. 'Louder! Louder, the music in the gallery! Oh, me, but I +have burst out of my shoe!' + +She gathered her skirts in each hand, and began a curtsy. 'You will go +at your own charges,' she whispered straight before her. 'Oh, enviable +and adorable age of youth!' Her eyes shone through the mask-holes. 'But +I warn you you'll repent it. Put not your trust in princes--or Queens. +Philip's ships'll blow you out of water. You'll not be frightened? Well, +we'll talk on it again, when I return from Rye, dear lads.' + +The wonderful curtsy ended. She stood up. Nothing stirred on her except +the rush of the shadows. + +'And so it was finished,' she said to the children. 'Why d'you not +applaud?' + +'What was finished?' said Una. + +'The dance,' the lady replied offendedly. 'And a pair of green shoes.' + +'I don't understand a bit,' said Una. + +'Eh? What did you make of it, young Burleigh?' + +'I'm not quite sure,' Dan began, 'but--' + +'You never can be--with a woman. But--?' + +'But I thought Gloriana meant the cousins to go back to the Gascons' +Graveyard, wherever that was.' + +''Twas Virginia after-wards. Her plantation of Virginia.' + +'Virginia afterwards, and stop Philip from taking it. Didn't she say +she'd lend 'em guns?' + +'Right so. But not ships--then.' + +'And I thought you meant they must have told her they'd do it off their +own bat, without getting her into a row with Philip. Was I right?' + +'Near enough for a Minister of the Queen. But remember she gave the +lads full time to change their minds. She was three long days at Rye +Royal--knighting of fat Mayors. When she came back to Brickwall, they +met her a mile down the road, and she could feel their eyes burn through +her riding-mask. Chris Hatton, poor fool, was vexed at it. + +'"YOU would not birch them when I gave you the chance," says she to +Chris. "Now you must get me half an hour's private speech with 'em in +Brickwall garden. Eve tempted Adam in a garden. Quick, man, or I may +repent!"' + +'She was a Queen. Why did she not send for them herself?' said Una. + +The lady shook her head. 'That was never her way. I've seen her walk +to her own mirror by bye-ends, and the woman that cannot walk straight +there is past praying for. Yet I would have you pray for her! What +else--what else in England's name could she have done?' She lifted her +hand to her throat for a moment. 'Faith,' she cried, 'I'd forgotten +the little green shoes! She left 'em at Brickwall--so she did. And I +remember she gave the Norgem parson--John Withers, was he?---a text +for his sermon--"Over Edom have I cast out my shoe." Neat, if he'd +understood!' + +'I don't understand,' said Una. 'What about the two cousins?' + +'You are as cruel as a woman,' the lady answered. 'I was not to blame. +I told you I gave 'em time to change their minds. On my honour (ay de +mi!), she asked no more of 'em at first than to wait a while off that +coast--the Gascons' Graveyard--to hover a little if their ships chanced +to pass that way--they had only one tall ship and a pinnace--only +to watch and bring me word of Philip's doings. One must watch Philip +always. What a murrain right had he to make any plantation there, a +hundred leagues north of his Spanish Main, and only six weeks from +England? By my dread father's soul, I tell you he had none--none!' +She stamped her red foot again, and the two children shrunk back for a +second. + +'Nay, nay. You must not turn from me too! She laid it all fairly before +the lads in Brickwall garden between the yews. I told 'em that if Philip +sent a fleet (and to make a plantation he could not well send less), +their poor little cock-boats could not sink it. They answered that, with +submission, the fight would be their own concern. She showed 'em again +that there could be only one end to it--quick death on the sea, or slow +death in Philip's prisons. They asked no more than to embrace death +for my sake. Many men have prayed to me for life. I've refused 'em, and +slept none the worse after; but when my men, my tall, fantastical +young men, beseech me on their knees for leave to die for me, it shakes +me--ah, it shakes me to the marrow of my old bones.' Her chest sounded +like a board as she hit it. 'She showed 'em all. I told 'em that this +was no time for open war with Spain. If by miracle inconceivable they +prevailed against Philip's fleet, Philip would hold me accountable. For +England's sake, to save war, I should e'en be forced (I told 'em so) to +give him up their young lives. If they failed, and again by some miracle +escaped Philip's hand, and crept back to England with their bare lives, +they must lie--oh, I told 'em all--under my sovereign displeasure. She +could not know them, see them, nor hear their names, nor stretch out a +finger to save them from the gallows, if Philip chose to ask it. + +'"Be it the gallows, then," says the elder. (I could have wept, but that +my face was made for the day.) + +'"Either way--any way--this venture is death, which I know you fear not. +But it is death with assured dishonour," I cried. + +'"Yet our Queen will know in her heart what we have done," says the +younger. '"Sweetheart," I said. "A queen has no heart." + +'"But she is a woman, and a woman would not forget," says the elder. "We +will go!" They knelt at my feet. + +'"Nay, dear lads--but here!" I said, and I opened my arms to them and I +kissed them. + +'"Be ruled by me," I said. "We'll hire some ill-featured old +tarry-breeks of an admiral to watch the Graveyard, and you shall come to +Court." + +'"Hire whom you please," says the elder; "we are ruled by you, body and +soul"; and the younger, who shook most when I kissed 'em, says between +his white lips, "I think you have power to make a god of a man." + +'"Come to Court and be sure of't," I said. + +'They shook their heads and I knew--I knew, that go they would. If I had +not kissed them--perhaps I might have prevailed.' + +'Then why did you do it?' said Una. 'I don't think you knew really what +you wanted done.' + +'May it please your Majesty'--the lady bowed her head low--'this +Gloriana whom I have represented for your pleasure was a woman and a +Queen. Remember her when you come to your Kingdom.' + +'But--did the cousins go to the Gascons' Graveyard?' said Dan, as Una +frowned. + +'They went,' said the lady. + +'Did they ever come back?' Una began; but--'Did they stop King Philip's +fleet?' Dan interrupted. + +The lady turned to him eagerly. + +'D'you think they did right to go?' she asked. + +'I don't see what else they could have done,' Dan replied, after +thinking it over. + +'D'you think she did right to send 'em?' The lady's voice rose a little. + +'Well,' said Dan, 'I don't see what else she could have done, either--do +you? How did they stop King Philip from getting Virginia?' + +'There's the sad part of it. They sailed out that autumn from Rye Royal, +and there never came back so much as a single rope-yarn to show what +had befallen them. The winds blew, and they were not. Does that make +you alter your mind, young Burleigh?' 'I expect they were drowned, then. +Anyhow, Philip didn't score, did he?' + +'Gloriana wiped out her score with Philip later. But if Philip had won, +would you have blamed Gloriana for wasting those lads' lives?' + +'Of course not. She was bound to try to stop him.' + +The lady coughed. 'You have the root of the matter in you. Were I Queen, +I'd make you Minister.' + +'We don't play that game,' said Una, who felt that she disliked the lady +as much as she disliked the noise the high wind made tearing through +Willow Shaw. + +'Play!' said the lady with a laugh, and threw up her hands affectedly. +The sunshine caught the jewels on her many rings and made them flash +till Una's eyes dazzled, and she had to rub them. Then she saw Dan on +his knees picking up the potatoes they had spilled at the gate. + +'There wasn't anybody in the Shaw, after all,' he said. 'Didn't you +think you saw someone?' + +'I'm most awfully glad there isn't,' said Una. Then they went on with +the potato-roast. + + + + +The Looking-Glass + +Queen Bess Was Harry's daughter! + + The Queen was in her chamber, and she was middling old, + Her petticoat was satin and her stomacher was gold. + Backwards and forwards and sideways did she pass, + Making up her mind to face the cruel looking-glass. + The cruel looking-glass that will never show a lass + As comely or as kindly or as young as once she was! + + The Queen was in her chamber, a-combing of her hair, + There came Queen Mary's spirit and it stood behind her chair, + Singing, 'Backwards and forwards and sideways you may pass, + But I will stand behind you till you face the looking-glass. + The cruel looking-glass that will never show a lass + As lovely or unlucky or as lonely as I was!' + + The Queen was in her chamber, a-weeping very sore, + There came Lord Leicester's spirit and it scratched upon the door, + Singing, 'Backwards and forwards and sideways may you pass, + But I will walk beside you till you face the looking-glass. + The cruel looking-glass that will never show a lass + As hard and unforgiving or as wicked as you was!' + + The Queen was in her chamber; her sins were on her head; + She looked the spirits up and down and statelily she said: + 'Backwards and forwards and sideways though I've been, + Yet I am Harry's daughter and I am England's Queen!' + And she faced the looking-glass (and whatever else there was), + And she saw her day was over and she saw her beauty pass + In the cruel looking-glass that can always hurt a lass + More hard than any ghost there is or any man there was! + + + + +THE WRONG THING + + + + +A Truthful Song + + + THE BRICKLAYER: + + I tell this tale, which is strictly true, + just by way of convincing you + How very little since things were made + Things have altered in the building trade. + + A year ago, come the middle o' March, + We was building flats near the Marble Arch, + When a thin young man with coal-black hair + Came up to watch us working there. + + Now there wasn't a trick in brick or stone + That this young man hadn't seen or known; + Nor there wasn't a tool from trowel to maul + But this young man could use 'em all! + Then up and spoke the plumbyers bold, + Which was laying the pipes for the hot and cold: + 'Since you with us have made so free, + Will you kindly say what your name might be?' + + The young man kindly answered them: + 'It might be Lot or Methusalem, + Or it might be Moses (a man I hate), + Whereas it is Pharaoh surnamed the Great. + + 'Your glazing is new and your plumbing's strange, + But other-wise I perceive no change, + And in less than a month, if you do as I bid, + I'd learn you to build me a Pyramid.' + + THE SAILOR: + + I tell this tale, which is stricter true, + just by way of convincing you + How very little since things was made + Things have altered in the shipwright's trade. + + In Blackwall Basin yesterday + A China barque re-fitting lay, + When a fat old man with snow-white hair + Came up to watch us working there. + + Now there wasn't a knot which the riggers knew + But the old man made it--and better too; + Nor there wasn't a sheet, or a lift, or a brace, + But the old man knew its lead and place. + + Then up and spake the caulkyers bold, + Which was packing the pump in the after-hold: + 'Since you with us have made so free, + Will you kindly tell what your name might be?' + + The old man kindly answered them: + 'it might be Japhet, it might be Shem, + Or it might be Ham (though his skin was dark), + Whereas it is Noah, commanding the Ark. + + 'Your wheel is new and your pumps are strange, + But otherwise I perceive no change, + And in less than a week, if she did not ground, + I'd sail this hooker the wide world round!' + + BOTH: We tell these tales, which are strictest true, etc. + + + + +The Wrong Thing + + +Dan had gone in for building model boats; but after he had filled the +schoolroom with chips, which he expected Una to clear away, they turned +him out of doors and he took all his tools up the hill to Mr Springett's +yard, where he knew he could make as much mess as he chose. Old Mr +Springett was a builder, contractor, and sanitary engineer, and +his yard, which opened off the village street, was always full of +interesting things. At one end of it was a long loft, reached by a +ladder, where he kept his iron-bound scaffold-planks, tins of paints, +pulleys, and odds and ends he had found in old houses. He would sit here +by the hour watching his carts as they loaded or unloaded in the yard +below, while Dan gouged and grunted at the carpenter's bench near the +loft window. Mr Springett and Dan had always been particular friends, +for Mr Springett was so old he could remember when railways were being +made in the southern counties of England, and people were allowed to +drive dogs in carts. + +One hot, still afternoon--the tar-paper on the roof smelt like +ships--Dan, in his shirt-sleeves, was smoothing down a new schooner's +bow, and Mr Springett was talking of barns and houses he had built. He +said he never forgot any stick or stone he had ever handled, or any +man, woman, or child he had ever met. Just then he was very proud of the +Village Hall at the entrance of the village, which he had finished a few +weeks before. + +'An' I don't mind tellin' you, Mus' Dan,' he said, 'that the Hall will +be my last job top of this mortal earth. I didn't make ten pounds--no, +nor yet five--out o' the whole contrac', but my name's lettered on the +foundation stone--Ralph Springett, Builder--and the stone she's bedded +on four foot good concrete. If she shifts any time these five hundred +years, I'll sure-ly turn in my grave. I told the Lunnon architec' so +when he come down to oversee my work.' + +'What did he say?' Dan was sandpapering the schooner's port bow. + +'Nothing. The Hall ain't more than one of his small jobs for him, but +'tain't small to me, an' my name is cut and lettered, frontin' the +village street, I do hope an' pray, for time everlastin'. You'll want +the little round file for that holler in her bow. Who's there?' Mr +Springett turned stiffly in his chair. + +A long pile of scaffold-planks ran down the centre of the loft. Dan +looked, and saw Hal o' the Draft's touzled head beyond them. [See 'Hal +o' the Draft' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.] + +'Be you the builder of the Village Hall?' he asked of Mr Springett. + +'I be,' was the answer. 'But if you want a job--' + +Hal laughed. 'No, faith!'he said. 'Only the Hall is as good and honest +a piece of work as I've ever run a rule over. So, being born hereabouts, +and being reckoned a master among masons, and accepted as a master +mason, I made bold to pay my brotherly respects to the builder.' + +'Aa--um!' Mr Springett looked important. 'I be a bit rusty, but I'll try +ye!' + +He asked Hal several curious questions, and the answers must have +pleased him, for he invited Hal to sit down. Hal moved up, always +keeping behind the pile of planks so that only his head showed, and sat +down on a trestle in the dark corner at the back of Mr Springett's +desk. He took no notice of Dan, but talked at once to Mr Springett about +bricks, and cement, and lead and glass, and after a while Dan went on +with his work. He knew Mr Springett was pleased, because he tugged +his white sandy beard, and smoked his pipe in short puffs. The two +men seemed to agree about everything, but when grown-ups agree they +interrupt each other almost as much as if they were quarrelling. Hal +said something about workmen. + +'Why, that's what I always say,' Mr Springett cried. 'A man who can only +do one thing, he's but next-above-fool to the man that can't do nothin'. +That's where the Unions make their mistake.' + +'My thought to the very dot.' Dan heard Hal slap his tight-hosed leg. +'I've suffered 'in my time from these same Guilds--Unions, d'you call +'em? All their precious talk of the mysteries of their trades--why, what +does it come to?' + +'Nothin'! You've justabout hit it,' said Mr Springett, and rammed his +hot tobacco with his thumb. + +'Take the art of wood-carving,'Hal went on. He reached across the +planks, grabbed a wooden mallet, and moved his other hand as though he +wanted something. Mr Springett without a word passed him one of Dan's +broad chisels. 'Ah! Wood-carving, for example. If you can cut wood and +have a fair draft of what ye mean to do, a' Heaven's name take chisel +and maul and let drive at it, say I! You'll soon find all the mystery, +forsooth, of wood-carving under your proper hand!' Whack, came the +mallet on the chisel, and a sliver of wood curled up in front of it. Mr +Springett watched like an old raven. + +'All art is one, man--one!' said Hal between whacks; 'and to wait on +another man to finish out--' + +'To finish out your work ain't no sense,' Mr Springett cut in. 'That's +what I'm always sayin' to the boy here.' He nodded towards Dan. 'That's +what I said when I put the new wheel into Brewster's Mill in Eighteen +hundred Seventy-two. I reckoned I was millwright enough for the job +'thout bringin' a man from Lunnon. An' besides, dividin' work eats up +profits, no bounds.' + +Hal laughed his beautiful deep laugh, and Mr Springett joined in till +Dan laughed too. + +'You handle your tools, I can see,' said Mr Springett. 'I reckon, if +you're any way like me, you've found yourself hindered by those--Guilds, +did you call 'em?---Unions, we say.' + +'You may say so!' Hal pointed to a white scar on his cheekbone. 'This +is a remembrance from the Master watching-Foreman of Masons on Magdalen +Tower, because, please you, I dared to carve stone without their leave. +They said a stone had slipped from the cornice by accident.' + +'I know them accidents. There's no way to disprove 'em. An' stones ain't +the only things that slip,' Mr Springett grunted. Hal went on: + +'I've seen a scaffold-plank keckle and shoot a too-clever workman thirty +foot on to the cold chancel floor below. And a rope can break--' 'Yes, +natural as nature; an' lime'll fly up in a man's eyes without any breath +o' wind sometimes,' said Mr Springett. 'But who's to show 'twasn't a +accident?' + +'Who do these things?' Dan asked, and straightened his back at the bench +as he turned the schooner end-for-end in the vice to get at her counter. + +'Them which don't wish other men to work no better nor quicker than they +do,' growled Mr Springett. 'Don't pinch her so hard in the vice, Mus' +Dan. Put a piece o' rag in the jaws, or you'll bruise her. More than +that'--he turned towards Hal--'if a man has his private spite laid up +against you, the Unions give him his excuse for workin' it off.' + +'Well I know it,'said Hal. + +'They never let you go, them spiteful ones. I knowed a plasterer in +Eighteen hundred Sixty-one--down to the wells. He was a Frenchy--a bad +enemy he was.' 'I had mine too. He was an Italian, called Benedetto. +I met him first at Oxford on Magdalen Tower when I was learning my +trade-or trades, I should say. A bad enemy he was, as you say, but he +came to be my singular good friend,' said Hal as he put down the mallet +and settled himself comfortably. + +'What might his trade have been--plastering' Mr Springett asked. + +'Plastering of a sort. He worked in stucco--fresco we call it. Made +pictures on plaster. Not but what he had a fine sweep of the hand in +drawing. He'd take the long sides of a cloister, trowel on his stuff, +and roll out his great all-abroad pictures of saints and croppy-topped +trees quick as a webster unrolling cloth almost. Oh, Benedetto could +draw, but 'a was a little-minded man, professing to be full of secrets +of colour or plaster--common tricks, all of 'em--and his one single talk +was how Tom, Dick or Harry had stole this or t'other secret art from +him.' + +'I know that sort,' said Mr Springett. 'There's no keeping peace or +making peace with such. An' they're mostly born an' bone idle.' + +'True. Even his fellow-countrymen laughed at his jealousy. We two came +to loggerheads early on Magdalen Tower. I was a youngster then. Maybe I +spoke my mind about his work.' + +'You shouldn't never do that.' Mr Springett shook his head. 'That sort +lay it up against you.' + +'True enough. This Benedetto did most specially. Body o' me, the +man lived to hate me! But I always kept my eyes open on a plank or a +scaffold. I was mighty glad to be shut of him when he quarrelled with +his Guild foreman, and went off, nose in air, and paints under his arm. +But'--Hal leaned forward--'if you hate a man or a man hates you--' + +'I know. You're everlastin' running acrost him,' Mr Springett +interrupted. 'Excuse me, sir.' He leaned out of the window, and shouted +to a carter who was loading a cart with bricks. + +'Ain't you no more sense than to heap 'em up that way?' he said. 'Take +an' throw a hundred of 'em off. It's more than the team can compass. +Throw 'em off, I tell you, and make another trip for what's left over. +Excuse me, sir. You was sayin'-' + +'I was saying that before the end of the year I went to Bury to +strengthen the lead-work in the great Abbey east window there.' + +'Now that's just one of the things I've never done. But I mind there was +a cheap excursion to Chichester in Eighteen hundred Seventy-nine, an' +I went an' watched 'em leadin' a won'erful fine window in Chichester +Cathedral. I stayed watchin' till 'twas time for us to go back. Dunno as +I had two drinks p'raps, all that day.' + +Hal smiled. 'At Bury, then, sure enough, I met my enemy Benedetto. He +had painted a picture in plaster on the south wall of the Refectory--a +noble place for a noble thing--a picture of Jonah.' + +'Ah! Jonah an' his whale. I've never been as far as Bury. You've worked +about a lot,' said Mr Springett, with his eyes on the carter below. + +'No. Not the whale. This was a picture of Jonah and the pompion that +withered. But all that Benedetto had shown was a peevish grey-beard +huggled up in angle-edged drapery beneath a pompion on a wooden trellis. +This last, being a dead thing, he'd drawn it as 'twere to the life. But +fierce old Jonah, bared in the sun, angry even to death that his cold +prophecy was disproven--Jonah, ashamed, and already hearing the children +of Nineveh running to mock him--ah, that was what Benedetto had not +drawn!' + +'He better ha' stuck to his whale, then,' said Mr Springett. + +'He'd ha' done no better with that. He draws the damp cloth off the +picture, an' shows it to me. I was a craftsman too, d'ye see?' + +'"Tis good," I said, "but it goes no deeper than the plaster." + +'"What?" he said in a whisper. + +'"Be thy own judge, Benedetto," I answered. "Does it go deeper than the +plaster?" + +'He reeled against a piece of dry wall. "No," he says, "and I know it. +I could not hate thee more than I have done these five years, but if I +live, I will try, Hal. I will try." Then he goes away. I pitied him, but +I had spoken truth. His picture went no deeper than the plaster.' + +'Ah!' said Mr Springett, who had turned quite red. 'You was talkin' so +fast I didn't understand what you was drivin' at. I've seen men--good +workmen they was--try to do more than they could do, and--and they +couldn't compass it. They knowed it, and it nigh broke their hearts +like. You was in your right, o' course, sir, to say what you thought o' +his work; but if you'll excuse me, was you in your duty?' + +'I was wrong to say it,' Hal replied. 'God forgive me--I was young! +He was workman enough himself to know where he failed. But it all +came evens in the long run. By the same token, did ye ever hear o' one +Torrigiano--Torrisany we called him?' + +'I can't say I ever did. Was he a Frenchy like?' + +'No, a hectoring, hard-mouthed, long-sworded Italian builder, as vain as +a peacock and as strong as a bull, but, mark you, a master workman. More +than that--he could get his best work out of the worst men.' + +'Which it's a gift. I had a foreman-bricklayer like him once,' said Mr +Springett. 'He used to prod 'em in the back like with a pointing-trowel, +and they did wonders.' + +I've seen our Torrisany lay a 'prentice down with one buffet and raise +him with another--to make a mason of him. I worked under him at building +a chapel in London--a chapel and a tomb for the King.' + +'I never knew kings went to chapel much,' said Mr Springett. 'But I +always hold with a man--don't care who he be--seein' about his own grave +before he dies. 'Tidn't the sort of thing to leave to your family after +the will's read. I reckon 'twas a fine vault?' + +'None finer in England. This Torrigiano had the contract for it, as +you'd say. He picked master craftsmen from all parts--England, France, +Italy, the Low Countries--no odds to him so long as they knew their +work, and he drove them like--like pigs at Brightling Fair. He called us +English all pigs. We suffered it because he was a master in his craft. +If he misliked any work that a man had done, with his own great hands +he'd rive it out, and tear it down before us all. "Ah, you pig--you +English pig!" he'd scream in the dumb wretch's face. "You answer me? You +look at me? You think at me? Come out with me into the cloisters. I +will teach you carving myself. I will gild you all over!" But when +his passion had blown out, he'd slip his arm round the man's neck, and +impart knowledge worth gold. 'Twould have done your heart good, Mus' +Springett, to see the two hundred of us masons, jewellers, carvers, +gilders, iron-workers and the rest--all toiling like cock-angels, and +this mad Italian hornet fleeing one to next up and down the chapel. Done +your heart good, it would!' + +'I believe you,' said Mr Springett. 'In Eighteen hundred Fifty-four, I +mind, the railway was bein' made into Hastin's. There was two thousand +navvies on it--all young--all strong--an' I was one of 'em. Oh, dearie +me! Excuse me, sir, but was your enemy workin' with you?' + +'Benedetto? Be sure he was. He followed me like a lover. He painted +pictures on the chapel ceiling--slung from a chair. Torrigiano made +us promise not to fight till the work should be finished. We were both +master craftsmen, do ye see, and he needed us. None the less, I never +went aloft to carve 'thout testing all my ropes and knots each morning. +We were never far from each other. Benedetto 'ud sharpen his knife on +his sole while he waited for his plaster to dry--wheet, wheet, wheet. +I'd hear it where I hung chipping round a pillar-head, and we'd nod to +each other friendly-like. Oh, he was a craftsman, was Benedetto, but his +hate spoiled his eye and his hand. I mind the night I had finished the +models for the bronze saints round the tomb; Torrigiano embraced me +before all the chapel, and bade me to supper. I met Benedetto when I +came out. He was slavering in the porch Like a mad dog.' + +'Workin' himself up to it?' said Mr Springett. 'Did he have it in at ye +that night?' + +'No, no. That time he kept his oath to Torrigiano. But I pitied him. Eh, +well! Now I come to my own follies. I had never thought too little of +myself; but after Torrisany had put his arm round my neck, I--I'--Hal +broke into a laugh--'I lay there was not much odds 'twixt me and a +cock-sparrow in his pride.' + +'I was pretty middlin' young once on a time,' said Mr Springett. + +'Then ye know that a man can't drink and dice and dress fine, and keep +company above his station, but his work suffers for it, Mus' Springett.' + +'I never held much with dressin' up, but--you're right! The worst +mistakes I ever made they was made of a Monday morning,' Mr Springett +answered. 'We've all been one sort of fool or t'other. Mus' Dan, Mus' +Dan, take the smallest gouge, or you'll be spluttin' her stem works +clean out. Can't ye see the grain of the wood don't favour a chisel?' + +'I'll spare you some of my follies. But there was a man called +Brygandyne--Bob Brygandyne--Clerk of the King's Ships, a little, smooth, +bustling atomy, as clever as a woman to get work done for nothin'--a +won'erful smooth-tongued pleader. He made much o' me, and asked me to +draft him out a drawing, a piece of carved and gilt scroll-work for the +bows of one of the King's Ships--the SOVEREIGN was her name.' + +'Was she a man-of-war?'asked Dan. + +'She was a warship, and a woman called Catherine of Castile desired the +King to give her the ship for a pleasure-ship of her own. I did not +know at the time, but she'd been at Bob to get this scroll-work done and +fitted that the King might see it. I made him the picture, in an hour, +all of a heat after supper--one great heaving play of dolphins and a +Neptune or so reining in webby-footed sea-horses, and Arion with his +harp high atop of them. It was twenty-three foot long, and maybe nine +foot deep--painted and gilt.' + +It must ha' justabout looked fine,' said Mr Springett. + +'That's the curiosity of it. 'Twas bad--rank bad. In my conceit I must +needs show it to Torrigiano, in the chapel. He straddles his legs, +hunches his knife behind him, and whistles like a storm-cock through a +sleet-shower. Benedetto was behind him. We were never far apart, I've +told you. + +'"That is pig's work," says our Master. "Swine's work. You make any more +such things, even after your fine Court suppers, and you shall be sent +away." + +'Benedetto licks his lips like a cat. "It is so bad then, Master?" he +says. "What a pity!" + +'"Yes," says Torrigiano. "Scarcely you could do things so bad. I will +condescend to show." + +'He talks to me then and there. No shouting, no swearing (it was too bad +for that); but good, memorable counsel, bitten in slowly. Then he sets +me to draft out a pair of iron gates, to take, as he said, the taste +of my naughty dolphins out of my mouth. Iron's sweet stuff if you don't +torture her, and hammered work is all pure, truthful line, with a reason +and a support for every curve and bar of it. A week at that settled +my stomach handsomely, and the Master let me put the work through the +smithy, where I sweated out more of my foolish pride.' + +'Good stuff is good iron,' said Mr Springett. 'I done a pair of lodge +gates once in Eighteen hundred Sixty-three.' + +'Oh, I forgot to say that Bob Brygandyne whipped away my draft of the +ship's scroll-work, and would not give it back to me to re-draw. He said +'twould do well enough. Howsoever, my lawful work kept me too busied to +remember him. Body o' me, but I worked that winter upon the gates and +the bronzes for the tomb as I'd never worked before! I was leaner than +a lath, but I lived--I lived then!' Hal looked at Mr Springett with his +wise, crinkled-up eyes, and the old man smiled back. + +'Ouch!' Dan cried. He had been hollowing out the schooner's after-deck, +the little gouge had slipped and gashed the ball of his left thumb,--an +ugly, triangular tear. + +'That came of not steadying your wrist,' said Hal calmly. 'Don't bleed +over the wood. Do your work with your heart's blood, but no need to let +it show.' He rose and peered into a corner of the loft. + +Mr Springett had risen too, and swept down a ball of cobwebs from a +rafter. + +'Clap that on,' was all he said, 'and put your handkerchief atop. 'Twill +cake over in a minute. It don't hurt now, do it?' + +'No,' said Dan indignantly. 'You know it has happened lots of times. +I'll tie it up myself. Go on, sir.' + +'And it'll happen hundreds of times more,' said Hal with a friendly nod +as he sat down again. But he did not go on till Dan's hand was tied up +properly. Then he said: + +'One dark December day--too dark to judge colour--we was all sitting and +talking round the fires in the chapel (you heard good talk there), when +Bob Brygandyne bustles in and--"Hal, you're sent for," he squeals. I +was at Torrigiano's feet on a pile of put-locks, as I might be here, +toasting a herring on my knife's point. 'Twas the one English thing our +Master liked--salt herring. + +'"I'm busy, about my art," I calls. + + +'"Art?" says Bob. "What's Art compared to your scroll-work for the +SOVEREIGN? Come." + +'"Be sure your sins will find you out," says Torrigiano. "Go with him +and see." As I followed Bob out I was aware of Benedetto, like a black +spot when the eyes are tired, sliddering up behind me. + +'Bob hurries through the streets in the raw fog, slips into a doorway, +up stairs, along passages, and at last thrusts me into a little cold +room vilely hung with Flemish tapestries, and no furnishing except a +table and my draft of the SOVEREIGN's scrollwork. Here he leaves me. +Presently comes in a dark, long-nosed man in a fur cap. + +'"Master Harry Dawe?" said he. + +'"The same," I says. "Where a plague has Bob Brygandyne gone?" + +'His thin eyebrows surged up in a piece and come down again in a stiff +bar. "He went to the King," he says. + +'"All one. Where's your pleasure with me?" I says, shivering, for it was +mortal cold. + +'He lays his hand flat on my draft. "Master Dawe," he says, "do you know +the present price of gold leaf for all this wicked gilding of yours?" + +'By that I guessed he was some cheese-paring clerk or other of the +King's Ships, so I gave him the price. I forget it now, but it worked +out to thirty pounds--carved, gilt, and fitted in place. + +'"Thirty pounds!" he said, as though I had pulled a tooth of him. "You +talk as though thirty pounds was to be had for the asking. None the +less," he says, "your draft's a fine piece of work." + +'I'd been looking at it ever since I came in, and 'twas viler even than +I judged it at first. My eye and hand had been purified the past months, +d'ye see, by my iron work. + +'"I could do it better now," I said. The more I studied my squabby +Neptunes the less I liked 'em; and Arion was a pure flaming shame atop +of the unbalanced dolphins. + +'"I doubt it will be fresh expense to draft it again," he says. + +'"Bob never paid me for the first draft. I lay he'll never pay me for +the second. 'Twill cost the King nothing if I re-draw it," I says. + +'"There's a woman wishes it to be done quickly," he says. "We'll stick +to your first drawing, Master Dawe. But thirty pounds is thirty pounds. +You must make it less." + +'And all the while the faults in my draft fair leaped out and hit me +between the eyes. At any cost, I thinks to myself, I must get it back +and re-draft it. He grunts at me impatiently, and a splendid thought +comes to me, which shall save me. By the same token, It was quite +honest.' + +'They ain't always,' says Mr Springett. 'How did you get out of it?' + +'By the truth. I says to Master Fur Cap, as I might to you here, I says, +"I'll tell you something, since you seem a knowledgeable man. Is the +SOVEREIGN to lie in Thames river all her days, or will she take the high +seas?" + +'"Oh," he says quickly, "the King keeps no cats that don't catch mice. +She must sail the seas, Master Dawe. She'll be hired to merchants for +the trade. She'll be out in all shapes o' weathers. Does that make any +odds?" + +'"Why, then," says I, "the first heavy sea she sticks her nose into'll +claw off half that scroll-work, and the next will finish it. If she's +meant for a pleasure-ship give me my draft again, and I'll porture you a +pretty, light piece of scroll-work, good cheap. If she's meant for the +open--sea, pitch the draft into the fire. She can never carry that +weight on her bows." + +'He looks at me squintlings and plucks his under-lip. + +'"Is this your honest, unswayed opinion?" he says. + +'"Body o' me! Ask about!" I says. "Any seaman could tell you 'tis +true. I'm advising you against my own profit, but why I do so is my own +concern." + +'"Not altogether ", he says. "It's some of mine. You've saved me thirty +pounds, Master Dawe, and you've given me good arguments to use against +a willful woman that wants my fine new ship for her own toy. We'll not +have any scroll-work." His face shined with pure joy. + +'"Then see that the thirty pounds you've saved on it are honestly paid +the King," I says, "and keep clear o' women-folk." I gathered up my +draft and crumpled it under my arm. "If that's all you need of me I'll +be gone," I says. "I'm pressed." + +'He turns him round and fumbles in a corner. "Too pressed to be made +a knight, Sir Harry?" he says, and comes at me smiling, with +three-quarters of a rusty sword. + +'I pledge you my Mark I never guessed it was the King till that moment. +I kneeled, and he tapped me on the shoulder. + +'"Rise up, Sir Harry Dawe," he says, and, in the same breath, "I'm +pressed, too," and slips through the tapestries, leaving me like a stuck +calf. + +'It come over me, in a bitter wave like, that here was I, a master +craftsman, who had worked no bounds, soul or body, to make the King's +tomb and chapel a triumph and a glory for all time; and here, d'ye see, +I was made knight, not for anything I'd slaved over, or given my heart +and guts to, but expressedly because I'd saved him thirty pounds and a +tongue-lashing from Catherine of Castille--she that had asked for the +ship. That thought shrivelled me with insides while I was folding away +my draft. On the heels of it--maybe you'll see why--I began to grin +to myself. I thought of the earnest simplicity of the man--the King, I +should say--because I'd saved him the money; his smile as though +he'd won half France! I thought of my own silly pride and foolish +expectations that some day he'd honour me as a master craftsman. I +thought of the broken-tipped sword he'd found behind the hangings; the +dirt of the cold room, and his cold eye, wrapped up in his own concerns, +scarcely resting on me. Then I remembered the solemn chapel roof and +the bronzes about the stately tomb he'd lie in, and--d'ye see?---the +unreason of it all--the mad high humour of it all--took hold on me till +I sat me down on a dark stair-head in a passage, and laughed till I +could laugh no more. What else could I have done? + +'I never heard his feet behind me--he always walked like a cat--but his +arm slid round my neck, pulling me back where I sat, till my head lay +on his chest, and his left hand held the knife plumb over my +heart--Benedetto! Even so I laughed--the fit was beyond my +holding--laughed while he ground his teeth in my ear. He was stark +crazed for the time. + +'"Laugh," he said. "Finish the laughter. I'll not cut ye short. Tell +me now"--he wrenched at my head--"why the King chose to honour +you,--you--you--you lickspittle Englishman? I am full of patience now. +I have waited so long." Then he was off at score about his Jonah in Bury +Refectory, and what I'd said of it, and his pictures in the chapel which +all men praised and none looked at twice (as if that was my fault!), and +a whole parcel of words and looks treasured up against me through years. + +'"Ease off your arm a little," I said. "I cannot die by choking, for I +am just dubbed knight, Benedetto." + +'"Tell me, and I'll confess ye, Sir Harry Dawe, Knight. There's a long +night before ye. Tell," says he. + +'So I told him--his chin on my crown--told him all; told it as well +and with as many words as I have ever told a tale at a supper with +Torrigiano. I knew Benedetto would understand, for, mad or sad, he was a +craftsman. I believed it to be the last tale I'd ever tell top of mortal +earth, and I would not put out bad work before I left the Lodge. All +art's one art, as I said. I bore Benedetto no malice. My spirits, d'ye +see, were catched up in a high, solemn exaltation, and I saw all earth's +vanities foreshortened and little, laid out below me like a town from a +cathedral scaffolding. I told him what befell, and what I thought of it. +I gave him the King's very voice at "Master Dawe, you've saved me thirty +pounds!"; his peevish grunt while he looked for the sword; and how the +badger-eyed figures of Glory and Victory leered at me from the Flemish +hangings. Body o' me, 'twas a fine, noble tale, and, as I thought, my +last work on earth. + +'"That is how I was honoured by the King," I said. "They'll hang ye for +killing me, Benedetto. And, since you've killed in the King's Palace, +they'll draw and quarter you; but you're too mad to care. Grant me, +though, ye never heard a better tale." 'He said nothing, but I felt him +shake. My head on his chest shook; his right arm fell away, his +left dropped the knife, and he leaned with both hands on my +shoulder--shaking--shaking! I turned me round. No need to put my foot +on his knife. The man was speechless with laughter--honest craftsman's +mirth. The first time I'd ever seen him laugh. You know the mirth that +cuts off the very breath, while ye stamp and snatch at the short ribs? +That was Benedetto's case. + +'When he began to roar and bay and whoop in the passage, I haled him +out into the street, and there we leaned against the wall and had it all +over again--waving our hands and wagging our heads--till the watch came +to know if we were drunk. + +'Benedetto says to 'em, solemn as an owl: "You have saved me thirty +pounds, Mus' Dawe," and off he pealed. In some sort we were mad-drunk--I +because dear life had been given back to me, and he because, as he said +afterwards, because the old crust of hatred round his heart was broke up +and carried away by laughter. His very face had changed too. + +'"Hal," he cries, "I forgive thee. Forgive me too, Hal. Oh, you English, +you English! Did it gall thee, Hal, to see the rust on the dirty sword? +Tell me again, Hal, how the King grunted with joy. Oh, let us tell the +Master." + +'So we reeled back to the chapel, arms round each other's necks, and +when we could speak--he thought we'd been fighting--we told the Master. +Yes, we told Torrigiano, and he laughed till he rolled on the new cold +pavement. Then he knocked our heads together. + +'"Ah, you English!" he cried. "You are more than pigs. You are English. +Now you are well punished for your dirty fishes. Put the draft in the +fire, and never do so any more. You are a fool, Hal, and you are a fool, +Benedetto, but I need your works to please this beautiful English King." + +'"And I meant to kill Hal," says Benedetto. "Master, I meant to kill him +because the English King had made him a knight." + +'"Ah!" says the Master, shaking his finger. "Benedetto, if you had +killed my Hal, I should have killed you--in the cloister. But you are a +craftsman too, so I should have killed you like a craftsman, very, very +slowly--in an hour, if I could spare the time!" That was Torrigiano--the +Master!' + +Mr Springett sat quite still for some time after Hal had finished. +Then he turned dark red; then he rocked to and fro; then he coughed and +wheezed till the tears ran down his face. Dan knew by this that he was +laughing, but it surprised Hal at first. + +'Excuse me, sir,' said Mr Springett, 'but I was thinkin' of some stables +I built for a gentleman in Eighteen hundred Seventy-four. They was +stables in blue brick--very particular work. Dunno as they weren't the +best job which ever I'd done. But the gentleman's lady--she'd come +from Lunnon, new married--she was all for buildin' what was called +a haw-haw--what you an' me 'ud call a dik--right acrost his park. A +middlin' big job which I'd have had the contract of, for she spoke to me +in the library about it. But I told her there was a line o' springs just +where she wanted to dig her ditch, an' she'd flood the park if she went +on.' + +'Were there any springs at all?' said Hal. + +'Bound to be springs everywhere if you dig deep enough, ain't there? +But what I said about the springs put her out o' conceit o' diggin' +haw-haws, an' she took an' built a white tile dairy instead. But when +I sent in my last bill for the stables, the gentleman he paid it 'thout +even lookin' at it, and I hadn't forgotten nothin', I do assure you. +More than that, he slips two five-pound notes into my hand in the +library, an' "Ralph," he says--he allers called me by name--"Ralph," he +says, "you've saved me a heap of expense an' trouble this autumn." I +didn't say nothin', o' course. I knowed he didn't want any haws-haws +digged acrost his park no more'n I did, but I never said nothin'. No +more he didn't say nothin' about my blue-brick stables, which was really +the best an' honestest piece o' work I'd done in quite a while. He +give me ten pounds for savin' him a hem of a deal o' trouble at home. I +reckon things are pretty much alike, all times, in all places.' + +Hal and he laughed together. Dan couldn't quite understand what they +thought so funny, and went on with his work for some time without +speaking. + +When he looked up, Mr Springett, alone, was wiping his eyes with his +green-and-yellow pocket-handkerchief. + +'Bless me, Mus' Dan, I've been asleep,' he said. 'An' I've dreamed a +dream which has made me laugh--laugh as I ain't laughed in a long day. +I can't remember what 'twas all about, but they do say that when old +men take to laughin' in their sleep, they're middlin' ripe for the next +world. Have you been workin' honest, Mus' Dan?' + +'Ra-ather,' said Dan, unclamping the schooner from the vice. 'And look +how I've cut myself with the small gouge.' + +'Ye-es. You want a lump o' cobwebs to that,' said Mr Springett. 'Oh, I +see you've put it on already. That's right, Mus' Dan.' + + + + +King Henry VII and the Shipwrights + + Harry our King in England from London town is gone, + And comen to Hamull on the Hoke in the countie of Suthampton. + For there lay the MARY OF THE TOWER, his ship of war so strong, + And he would discover, certaynely, if his shipwrights did him wrong. + + He told not none of his setting forth, nor yet where he would go + (But only my Lord of Arundel), and meanly did he show, + In an old jerkin and patched hose that no man might him mark; + With his frieze hood and cloak about, he looked like any clerk. + He was at Hamull on the Hoke about the hour of the tide, + And saw the MARY haled into dock, the winter to abide, + With all her tackle and habiliments which are the King his own; + But then ran on his false shipwrights and stripped her to the bone. + + They heaved the main-mast overboard, that was of a trusty tree, + And they wrote down it was spent and lost by force of weather at sea. + But they sawen it into planks and strakes as far as it might go, + To maken beds for their own wives and little children also. + + There was a knave called Slingawai, he crope beneath the deck, + Crying: 'Good felawes, come and see! The ship is nigh a wreck! + For the storm that took our tall main-mast, it blew so fierce and fell, + Alack! it hath taken the kettles and pans, and this brass pott as well!' + + With that he set the pott on his head and hied him up the hatch, + While all the shipwrights ran below to find what they might snatch; + All except Bob Brygandyne and he was a yeoman good, + He caught Slingawai round the waist and threw him on to the mud. + + 'I have taken plank and rope and nail, without the King his leave, + After the custom of Portesmouth, but I will not suffer a thief. + Nay, never lift up thy hand at me! There's no clean hands in the trade. + Steal in measure,' quo' Brygandyne. 'There's measure in all things made!' + + 'Gramercy, yeoman!' said our King. 'Thy counsel liketh me.' + And he pulled a whistle out of his neck and whistled whistles three. + Then came my Lord of Arundel pricking across the down, + And behind him the Mayor and Burgesses of merry Suthampton town. + + They drew the naughty shipwrights up, with the kettles in their hands, + And bound them round the forecastle to wait the King's commands. + But 'Since ye have made your beds,' said the King, 'ye needs must lie + thereon. + For the sake of your wives and little ones--felawes, get you gone!' + + When they had beaten Slingawai, out of his own lips, + Our King appointed Brygandyne to be Clerk of all his ships. + 'Nay, never lift up thy hands to me--there's no clean hands in the trade. + But steal in measure,'said Harry our King. 'There's measure in all things + made!' + + God speed the 'Mary of the Tower,' the 'Sovereign' and 'Grace Dieu,' + The 'Sweepstakes' and the 'Mary Fortune,' and the 'Henry of Bristol' too! + All tall ships that sail on the sea, or in our harbours stand, + That they may keep measure with Harry our King and peace in Engeland! + + + + +MARKLAKE WITCHES + + + + +The Way Through the Woods + + + They shut the road through the woods + Seventy years ago. + Weather and rain have undone it again, + And now you would never know + There was once a road through the woods + Before they planted the trees. + It is underneath the coppice and heath, + And the thin anemones. + Only the keeper sees + That, where the ring-dove broods, + And the badgers roll at ease, + There was once a road through the woods. + + Yet, if you enter the woods + Of a summer evening late, + When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools + Where the otter whistles his mate + (They fear not men in the woods + Because they see so few), + You will hear the beat of a horse's feet + And the swish of a skirt in the dew, + Steadily cantering through + The misty solitudes, + As though they perfectly knew + The old lost road through the woods... + But there is no road through the woods! + + + + +Marklake Witches + + +When Dan took up boat-building, Una coaxed Mrs Vincey, the farmer's wife +at Little Lindens, to teach her to milk. Mrs Vincey milks in the pasture +in summer, which is different from milking in the shed, because the +cows are not tied up, and until they know you they will not stand still. +After three weeks Una could milk Red Cow or Kitty Shorthorn quite dry, +without her wrists aching, and then she allowed Dan to look. But milking +did not amuse him, and it was pleasanter for Una to be alone in the +quiet pastures with quiet-spoken Mrs Vincey. So, evening after evening, +she slipped across to Little Lindens, took her stool from the fern-clump +beside the fallen oak, and went to work, her pail between her knees, and +her head pressed hard into the cow's flank. As often as not, Mrs Vincey +would be milking cross Pansy at the other end of the pasture, and would +not come near till it was time to strain and pour off. + +Once, in the middle of a milking, Kitty Shorthorn boxed Una's ear with +her tail. + +'You old pig!' said Una, nearly crying, for a cow's tail can hurt. + +'Why didn't you tie it down, child?' said a voice behind her. + +'I meant to, but the flies are so bad I let her off--and this is what +she's done!' Una looked round, expecting Puck, and saw a curly-haired +girl, not much taller than herself, but older, dressed in a curious +high-waisted, lavender-coloured riding-habit, with a high hunched collar +and a deep cape and a belt fastened with a steel clasp. She wore a +yellow velvet cap and tan gauntlets, and carried a real hunting-crop. +Her cheeks were pale except for two pretty pink patches in the middle, +and she talked with little gasps at the end of her sentences, as though +she had been running. + +'You don't milk so badly, child,' she said, and when she smiled her +teeth showed small and even and pearly. + +'Can you milk?' Una asked, and then flushed, for she heard Puck's +chuckle. + +He stepped out of the fern and sat down, holding Kitty Short-horn's +tail. 'There isn't much,' he said, 'that Miss Philadelphia doesn't +know about milk--or, for that matter, butter and eggs. She's a great +housewife.' + +'Oh,' said Una. 'I'm sorry I can't shake hands. Mine are all milky; but +Mrs Vincey is going to teach me butter-making this summer.' 'Ah! I'm +going to London this summer,' the girl said, 'to my aunt in Bloomsbury.' +She coughed as she began to hum, '"Oh, what a town! What a wonderful +metropolis!" + +'You've got a cold,' said Una. + +'No. Only my stupid cough. But it's vastly better than it was last +winter. It will disappear in London air. Every one says so. D'you like +doctors, child?' + +'I don't know any,' Una replied. 'But I'm sure I shouldn't.' + +'Think yourself lucky, child. I beg your pardon,' the girl laughed, for +Una frowned. + +'I'm not a child, and my name's Una,'she said. + +'Mine's Philadelphia. But everybody except Rene calls me Phil. I'm +Squire Bucksteed's daughter--over at Marklake yonder.' She jerked her +little round chin towards the south behind Dallington. 'Sure-ly you know +Marklake?' + +'We went a picnic to Marklake Green once,' said Una. 'It's awfully +pretty. I like all those funny little roads that don't lead anywhere.' + +'They lead over our land,' said Philadelphia stiffly, 'and the coach +road is only four miles away. One can go anywhere from the Green. I went +to the Assize Ball at Lewes last year.' She spun round and took a few +dancing steps, but stopped with her hand to her side. + +'It gives me a stitch,' she explained. 'No odds. 'Twill go away in +London air. That's the latest French step, child. Rene taught it me. +D'you hate the French, chi--Una?' + +'Well, I hate French, of course, but I don't mind Ma'm'selle. She's +rather decent. Is Rene your French governess?' + +Philadelphia laughed till she caught her breath again. + +'Oh no! Rene's a French prisoner--on parole. That means he's promised +not to escape till he has been properly exchanged for an Englishman. +He's only a doctor, so I hope they won't think him worth exchanging. My +uncle captured him last year in the FERDINAND privateer, off Belle Isle, +and he cured my uncle of a r-r-raging toothache. Of course, after that +we couldn't let him lie among the common French prisoners at Rye, and +so he stays with us. He's of very old family--a Breton, which is nearly +next door to being a true Briton, my father says--and he wears his hair +clubbed--not powdered. Much more becoming, don't you think?' + +'I don't know what you're--' Una began, but Puck, the other side of +the pail, winked, and she went on with her milking. 'He's going to be a +great French physician when the war is over. He makes me bobbins for my +lace-pillow now--he's very clever with his hands; but he'd doctor our +people on the Green if they would let him. Only our Doctor--Doctor +Break--says he's an emp--or imp something--worse than imposter. But my +Nurse says--' + +'Nurse! You're ever so old. What have you got a nurse for?' Una finished +milking, and turned round on her stool as Kitty Shorthorn grazed off. + +'Because I can't get rid of her. Old Cissie nursed my mother, and she +says she'll nurse me till she dies. The idea! She never lets me alone. +She thinks I'm delicate. She has grown infirm in her understanding, you +know. Mad--quite mad, poor Cissie!' + + +'Really mad?' said Una. 'Or just silly?' + +'Crazy, I should say--from the things she does. Her devotion to me is +terribly embarrassing. You know I have all the keys of the Hall except +the brewery and the tenants' kitchen. I give out all stores and the +linen and plate.' + +'How jolly! I love store-rooms and giving out things.' + +Ah, it's a great responsibility, you'll find, when you come to my +age. Last year Dad said I was fatiguing myself with my duties, and he +actually wanted me to give up the keys to old Amoore, our housekeeper. +I wouldn't. I hate her. I said, "No, sir. I am Mistress of Marklake Hall +just as long as I live, because I'm never going to be married, and I +shall give out stores and linen till I die!" + +And what did your father say?' + +'Oh, I threatened to pin a dishclout to his coat-tail. He ran away. +Every one's afraid of Dad, except me.' Philadelphia stamped her foot. +'The idea! If I can't make my own father happy in his own house, I'd +like to meet the woman that can, and--and--I'd have the living hide off +her!' + +She cut with her long-thonged whip. It cracked like a pistol-shot across +the still pasture. Kitty Shorthorn threw up her head and trotted away. + +'I beg your pardon,' Philadelphia said; 'but it makes me furious. Don't +you hate those ridiculous old quizzes with their feathers and fronts, +who come to dinner and call you "child" in your own chair at your own +table?' + +'I don't always come to dinner, said Una, 'but I hate being called +"child." Please tell me about store-rooms and giving out things.' + +Ah, it's a great responsibility--particularly with that old cat Amoore +looking at the lists over your shoulder. And such a shocking thing +happened last summer! Poor crazy Cissie, my Nurse that I was telling you +of, she took three solid silver tablespoons.' + +'Took! But isn't that stealing?' Una cried. + +'Hsh!' said Philadelphia, looking round at Puck. 'All I say is she took +them without my leave. I made it right afterwards. So, as Dad says--and +he's a magistrate-, it wasn't a legal offence; it was only compounding a +felony. + +'It sounds awful,' said Una. + +'It was. My dear, I was furious! I had had the keys for ten months, and +I'd never lost anything before. I said nothing at first, because a big +house offers so many chances of things being mislaid, and coming to hand +later. "Fetching up in the lee-scuppers," my uncle calls it. But next +week I spoke to old Cissie about it when she was doing my hair at night, +and she said I wasn't to worry my heart for trifles!' + +'Isn't it like 'em?' Una burst out. 'They see you're worried over +something that really matters, and they say, "Don't worry"; as if that +did any good!' + +'I quite agree with you, my dear; quite agree with you! I told Ciss the +spoons were solid silver, and worth forty shillings, so if the thief +were found, he'd be tried for his life.' 'Hanged, do you mean?'Una said. + +'They ought to be; but Dad says no jury will hang a man nowadays for +a forty-shilling theft. They transport 'em into penal servitude at +the uttermost ends of the earth beyond the seas, for the term of their +natural life. I told Cissie that, and I saw her tremble in my mirror. +Then she cried, and caught hold of my knees, and I couldn't for my life +understand what it was all about,--she cried so. Can you guess, my dear, +what that poor crazy thing had done? It was midnight before I pieced it +together. She had given the spoons to Jerry Gamm, the Witchmaster on the +Green, so that he might put a charm on me! Me!' + +'Put a charm on you? Why?' + +'That's what I asked; and then I saw how mad poor Cissie was! You know +this stupid little cough of mine? It will disappear as soon as I go to +London. She was troubled about that, and about my being so thin, and +she told me Jerry had promised her, if she would bring him three silver +spoons, that he'd charm my cough away and make me plump--"flesh up," she +said. I couldn't help laughing; but it was a terrible night! I had to +put Cissie into my own bed, and stroke her hand till she cried herself +to sleep. What else could I have done? When she woke, and I coughed--I +suppose I can cough in my own room if I please--she said that she'd +killed me, and asked me to have her hanged at Lewes sooner than send her +to the uttermost ends of the earth away from me.' + +'How awful! What did you do, Phil?' + +'Do? I rode off at five in the morning to talk to Master Jerry, with a +new lash on my whip. Oh, I was furious! Witchmaster or no Witchmaster, I +meant to--' + +Ah! what's a Witchmaster?' + +'A master of witches, of course. I don't believe there are witches; but +people say every village has a few, and Jerry was the master of all ours +at Marklake. He has been a smuggler, and a man-of-war's man, and now he +pretends to be a carpenter and joiner--he can make almost anything--but +he really is a white wizard. He cures people by herbs and charms. He can +cure them after Doctor Break has given them up, and that's why Doctor +Break hates him so. He used to make me toy carts, and charm off my warts +when I was a child.' Philadelphia spread out her hands with the delicate +shiny little nails. 'It isn't counted lucky to cross him. He has his +ways of getting even with you, they say. But I wasn't afraid of Jerry! +I saw him working in his garden, and I leaned out of my saddle and +double-thonged him between the shoulders, over the hedge. Well, my dear, +for the first time since Dad gave him to me, my Troubadour (I wish you +could see the sweet creature!) shied across the road, and I spilled out +into the hedge-top. Most undignified! Jerry pulled me through to his +side and brushed the leaves off me. I was horribly pricked, but I didn't +care. "Now, Jerry," I said, "I'm going to take the hide off you first, +and send you to Lewes afterwards. You well know why." + +'"Oh!" he said, and he sat down among his bee-hives. "Then I reckon +you've come about old Cissie's business, my dear." "I reckon I justabout +have," I said. "Stand away from these hives. I can't get at you there." +"That's why I be where I be," he said. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Phil, +I don't hold with bein' flogged before breakfast, at my time o' life." +He's a huge big man, but he looked so comical squatting among the hives +that--I know I oughtn't to--I laughed, and he laughed. I always laugh at +the wrong time. But I soon recovered my dignity, and I said, "Then give +me back what you made poor Cissie steal!" + +'"Your pore Cissie," he said. "She's a hatful o' trouble. But you shall +have 'em, Miss Phil. They're all ready put by for you." And, would you +believe it, the old sinner pulled my three silver spoons out of his +dirty pocket, and polished them on his cuff. "Here they be," he says, +and he gave them to me, just as cool as though I'd come to have my +warts charmed. That's the worst of people having known you when you were +young. But I preserved my composure. "Jerry," I said, "what in the world +are we to do? If you'd been caught with these things on you, you'd have +been hanged." + +'"I know it," he said. "But they're yours now." + +'"But you made my Cissie steal them," I said. + +'"That I didn't," he said. "Your Cissie, she was pickin' at me an' +tarrifyin' me all the long day an' every day for weeks, to put a charm +on you, Miss Phil, an' take away your little spitty cough." + +'"Yes. I knew that, Jerry, and to make me flesh-up!" I said. "I'm much +obliged to you, but I'm not one of your pigs!" + +'"Ah! I reckon she've been talking to you, then," he said. "Yes, +she give me no peace, and bein' tarrified--for I don't hold with old +women--I laid a task on her which I thought 'ud silence her. I never +reckoned the old scrattle 'ud risk her neckbone at Lewes Assizes for +your sake, Miss Phil. But she did. She up an' stole, I tell ye, as +cheerful as a tinker. You might ha' knocked me down with any one of them +liddle spoons when she brung 'em in her apron." + +'"Do you mean to say, then, that you did it to try my poor Cissie?" I +screamed at him. + +'"What else for, dearie?" he said. "I don't stand in need of +hedge-stealings. I'm a freeholder, with money in the bank; and now I +won't trust women no more! Silly old besom! I do beleft she'd ha' stole +the Squire's big fob-watch, if I'd required her." + +'"Then you're a wicked, wicked old man," I said, and I was so angry that +I couldn't help crying, and of course that made me cough. + +'Jerry was in a fearful taking. He picked me up and carried me into his +cottage--it's full of foreign curiosities--and he got me something to +eat and drink, and he said he'd be hanged by the neck any day if it +pleased me. He said he'd even tell old Cissie he was sorry. That's a +great comedown for a Witchmaster, you know. + +'I was ashamed of myself for being so silly, and I dabbed my eyes and +said, "The least you can do now is to give poor Ciss some sort of a +charm for me." + +'"Yes, that's only fair dealings," he said. "You know the names of the +Twelve Apostles, dearie? You say them names, one by one, before your +open window, rain or storm, wet or shine, five times a day fasting. But +mind you, 'twixt every name you draw in your breath through your nose, +right down to your pretty liddle toes, as long and as deep as you can, +and let it out slow through your pretty liddle mouth. There's virtue for +your cough in those names spoke that way. And I'll give you something +you can see, moreover. Here's a stick of maple, which is the warmest +tree in the wood."' 'That's true,' Una interrupted. 'You can feel it +almost as warm as yourself when you touch it.' + +'"It's cut one inch long for your every year," Jerry said. "That's +sixteen inches. You set it in your window so that it holds up the sash, +and thus you keep it, rain or shine, or wet or fine, day and night. I've +said words over it which will have virtue on your complaints." + +"I haven't any complaints, Jerry," I said. "It's only to please Cissie." + +'"I know that as well as you do, dearie," he said. And--and that was all +that came of my going to give him a flogging. I wonder whether he made +poor Troubadour shy when I lashed at him? Jerry has his ways of getting +even with people.' + +'I wonder,' said Una. 'Well, did you try the charm? Did it work?' + +'What nonsense! I told Rene about it, of course, because he's a doctor. +He's going to be a most famous doctor. That's why our doctor hates him. +Rene said, "Oho! Your Master Gamm, he is worth knowing," and he put up +his eyebrows--like this. He made joke of it all. He can see my window +from the carpenter's shed, where he works, and if ever the maple stick +fell down, he pretended to be in a fearful taking till I propped the +window up again. He used to ask me whether I had said my Apostles +properly, and how I took my deep breaths. Oh yes, and the next day, +though he had been there ever so many times before, he put on his new +hat and paid Jerry Gamm a visit of state--as a fellow-physician. Jerry +never guessed Rene was making fun of him, and so he told Rene about +the sick people in the village, and how he cured them with herbs after +Doctor Break had given them up. Jerry could talk smugglers' French, of +course, and I had taught Rene plenty of English, if only he wasn't so +shy. They called each other Monsieur Gamm and Mosheur Lanark, just like +gentlemen. I suppose it amused poor Rene. He hasn't much to do, except +to fiddle about in the carpenter's shop. He's like all the French +prisoners--always making knickknacks; and Jerry had a little lathe at +his cottage, and so--and so--Rene took to being with Jerry much more +than I approved of. The Hall is so big and empty when Dad's away, and +I will not sit with old Amoore--she talks so horridly about every +one--specially about Rene. + +'I was rude to Rene, I'm afraid; but I was properly served out for it. +One always is. You see, Dad went down to Hastings to pay his respects +to the General who commanded the brigade there, and to bring him to the +Hall afterwards. Dad told me he was a very brave soldier from India--he +was Colonel of Dad's Regiment, the Thirty-third Foot, after Dad left the +Army, and then he changed his name from Wesley to Wellesley, or else the +other way about; and Dad said I was to get out all the silver for him, +and I knew that meant a big dinner. So I sent down to the sea for early +mackerel, and had such a morning in the kitchen and the store-rooms. Old +Amoore nearly cried. + +'However, my dear, I made all my preparations in ample time, but the +fish didn't arrive--it never does--and I wanted Rene to ride to Pevensey +and bring it himself. He had gone over to Jerry, of course, as he always +used, unless I requested his presence beforehand. I can't send for Rene +every time I want him. He should be there. Now, don't you ever do what I +did, child, because it's in the highest degree unladylike; but--but +one of our Woods runs up to Jerry's garden, and if you climb--it's +ungenteel, but I can climb like a kitten--there's an old hollow oak +just above the pigsty where you can hear and see everything below. +Truthfully, I only went to tell Rene about the mackerel, but I saw him +and Jerry sitting on the seat playing with wooden toy trumpets. So I +slipped into the hollow, and choked down my cough, and listened. Rene +had never shown me any of these trumpets.' + +'Trumpets? Aren't you too old for trumpets?' said Una. + +'They weren't real trumpets, because Jerry opened his short-collar, and +Rene put one end of his trumpet against Jerry's chest, and put his +ear to the other. Then Jerry put his trumpet against Rene's chest, and +listened while Rene breathed and coughed. I was afraid I would cough +too. + +'"This hollywood one is the best," said Jerry. "'Tis won'erful like +hearin' a man's soul whisperin' in his innards; but unless I've a +buzzin' in my ears, Mosheur Lanark, you make much about the same kind o' +noises as old Gaffer Macklin--but not quite so loud as young Copper. It +sounds like breakers on a reef--a long way off. Comprenny?" + +'"Perfectly," said Rene. "I drive on the breakers. But before I strike, +I shall save hundreds, thousands, millions perhaps, by my little +trumpets. Now tell me what sounds the old Gaffer Macklin have made in +his chest, and what the young Copper also." + +'Jerry talked for nearly a quarter of an hour about sick people in the +village, while Rene asked questions. Then he sighed, and said, "You +explain very well, Monsieur Gamm, but if only I had your opportunities +to listen for myself! Do you think these poor people would let me listen +to them through my trumpet--for a little money? No?"--Rene's as poor as +a church mouse. + +'"They'd kill you, Mosheur. It's all I can do to coax 'em to abide it, +and I'm Jerry Gamm," said Jerry. He's very proud of his attainments. + +'"Then these poor people are alarmed--No?" said Rene. + +'"They've had it in at me for some time back because o' my tryin' your +trumpets on their sick; and I reckon by the talk at the alehouse they +won't stand much more. Tom Dunch an' some of his kidney was drinkin' +themselves riot-ripe when I passed along after noon. Charms an' +mutterin's an' bits o' red wool an' black hens is in the way o' nature +to these fools, Mosheur; but anything likely to do 'em real service is +devil's work by their estimation. If I was you, I'd go home before they +come." Jerry spoke quite quietly, and Rene shrugged his shoulders. + +'"I am prisoner on parole, Monsieur Gamm," he said. "I have no home." + +'Now that was unkind of Rene. He's often told me that he looked on +England as his home. I suppose it's French politeness. + +'"Then we'll talk o' something that matters," said Jerry. "Not to name +no names, Mosheur Lanark, what might be your own opinion o' some one +who ain't old Gaffer Macklin nor young Copper? Is that person better or +worse?" + +'"Better--for time that is," said Rene. He meant for the time being, but +I never could teach him some phrases. + +'"I thought so too," said Jerry. "But how about time to come?" + +'Rene shook his head, and then he blew his nose. You don't know how odd a +man looks blowing his nose when you are sitting directly above him. + +'"I've thought that too," said Jerry. He rumbled so deep I could scarcely +catch. "It don't make much odds to me, because I'm old. But you're +young, Mosheur--you're young," and he put his hand on Rene's knee, and +Rene covered it with his hand. I didn't know they were such friends. + +'"Thank you, mon ami," said Rene. "I am much oblige. Let us return to +our trumpet-making. But I forget"--he stood up--"it appears that you +receive this afternoon!" + +'You can't see into Gamm's Lane from the oak, but the gate opened, and +fat little Doctor Break stumped in, mopping his head, and half-a-dozen +of our people following him, very drunk. + +'You ought to have seen Rene bow; he does it beautifully. + +'"A word with you, Laennec," said Doctor Break. "Jerry has been +practising some devilry or other on these poor wretches, and they've +asked me to be arbiter." + +'"Whatever that means, I reckon it's safer than asking you to be +doctor," said Jerry, and Tom Dunch, one of our carters, laughed. + +'"That ain't right feeling of you, Tom," Jerry said, "seeing how clever +Doctor Break put away your thorn in the flesh last winter." Tom's wife +had died at Christmas, though Doctor Break bled her twice a week. Doctor +Break danced with rage. + +'"This is all beside the mark," he said. "These good people are willing +to testify that you've been impudently prying into God's secrets by +means of some papistical contrivance which this person"--he pointed +to poor Rene--"has furnished you with. Why, here are the things +themselves!" Rene was holding a trumpet in his hand. + +'Then all the men talked at once. They said old Gaffer Macklin was dying +from stitches in his side where Jerry had put the trumpet--they called +it the devil's ear-piece; and they said it left round red witch-marks on +people's skins, and dried up their lights, and made 'em spit blood, and +threw 'em into sweats. Terrible things they said. You never heard such a +noise. I took advantage of it to cough. + +'Rene and Jerry were standing with their backs to the pigsty. Jerry +fumbled in his big flap pockets and fished up a pair of pistols. You +ought to have seen the men give back when he cocked his. He passed one +to Rene. + +'"Wait! Wait!" said Rene. "I will explain to the doctor if he permits." +He waved a trumpet at him, and the men at the gate shouted, "Don't touch +it, Doctor! Don't lay a hand to the thing." + +'"Come, come!" said Rene. "You are not so big fool as you pretend. No?" + +'Doctor Break backed toward the gate, watching Jerry's pistol, and Rene +followed him with his trumpet, like a nurse trying to amuse a child, and +put the ridiculous thing to his ear to show how it was used, and talked +of la Gloire, and l'Humanite, and la Science, while Doctor Break watched +jerry's pistol and swore. I nearly laughed aloud. + +'"Now listen! Now listen!" said Rene. "This will be moneys in your +pockets, my dear confrere. You will become rich." + +'Then Doctor Break said something about adventurers who could not earn +an honest living in their own country creeping into decent houses and +taking advantage of gentlemen's confidence to enrich themselves by base +intrigues. + +'Rene dropped his absurd trumpet and made one of his best bows. I knew +he was angry from the way he rolled his "r's." + +'"Ver-r-ry good," said he. "For that I shall have much pleasure to +kill you now and here. Monsieur Gamm,"--another bow to Jerry--"you will +please lend him your pistol, or he shall have mine. I give you my word I +know not which is best; and if he will choose a second from his friends +over there"--another bow to our drunken yokels at the gate--"we will +commence." + +'"That's fair enough," said Jerry. "Tom Dunch, you owe it to the Doctor +to be his second. Place your man." '"No," said Tom. "No mixin' in +gentry's quarrels for me." And he shook his head and went out, and the +others followed him. + +'"Hold on," said Jerry. "You've forgot what you set out to do up at the +alehouse just now. You was goin' to search me for witch-marks; you +was goin' to duck me in the pond; you was goin' to drag all my bits +o' sticks out o' my little cottage here. What's the matter with you? +Wouldn't you like to be with your old woman tonight, Tom?" + +'But they didn't even look back, much less come. They ran to the village +alehouse like hares. + +'"No matter for these canaille," said Rene, buttoning up his coat so +as not to show any linen. All gentlemen do that before a duel, Dad +says--and he's been out five times. "You shall be his second, Monsieur +Gamm. Give him the pistol." + +'Doctor Break took it as if it was red-hot, but he said that if Rene +resigned his pretensions in certain quarters he would pass over the +matter. Rene bowed deeper than ever. + +'"As for that," he said, "if you were not the ignorant which you are, +you would have known long ago that the subject of your remarks is not +for any living man." + +'I don't know what the subject of his remarks might have been, but he +spoke in a simply dreadful voice, my dear, and Doctor Break turned quite +white, and said Rene was a liar; and then Rene caught him by the throat, +and choked him black. + +'Well, my dear, as if this wasn't deliciously exciting enough, just +exactly at that minute I heard a strange voice on the other side of +the hedge say, "What's this? What's this, Bucksteed?" and there was my +father and Sir Arthur Wesley on horseback in the lane; and there was +Rene kneeling on Doctor Break, and there was I up in the oak, listening +with all my ears. + +'I must have leaned forward too much, and the voice gave me such a +start that I slipped. I had only time to make one jump on to the pigsty +roof--another, before the tiles broke, on to the pigsty wall--and then +I bounced down into the garden, just behind Jerry, with my hair full of +bark. Imagine the situation!' + +'Oh, I can!' Una laughed till she nearly fell off the stool. + +'Dad said, "Phil--a--del--phia!" and Sir Arthur Wesley said, "Good Ged" +and Jerry put his foot on the pistol Rene had dropped. But Rene was +splendid. He never even looked at me. He began to untwist Doctor Break's +neckcloth as fast as he'd twisted it, and asked him if he felt better. + +'"What's happened? What's happened?" said Dad. + +'"A fit!" said Rene. "I fear my confrere has had a fit. Do not be +alarmed. He recovers himself. Shall I bleed you a little, my dear +Doctor?" Doctor Break was very good too. He said, "I am vastly obliged, +Monsieur Laennec, but I am restored now." And as he went out of the +gate he told Dad it was a syncope--I think. Then Sir Arthur said, "Quite +right, Bucksteed. Not another word! They are both gentlemen." And he +took off his cocked hat to Doctor Break and Rene. + +'But poor Dad wouldn't let well alone. He kept saying, "Philadelphia, +what does all this mean?" + +'"Well, sir," I said, "I've only just come down. As far as I could see, +it looked as though Doctor Break had had a sudden seizure." That was +quite true--if you'd seen Rene seize him. Sir Arthur laughed. "Not much +change there, Bucksteed," he said. "She's a lady--a thorough lady." + +'"Heaven knows she doesn't look like one," said poor Dad. "Go home, +Philadelphia." + +'So I went home, my dear--don't laugh so!---right under Sir Arthur's +nose--a most enormous nose--feeling as though I were twelve years old, +going to be whipped. Oh, I beg your pardon, child!' + +'It's all right,' said Una. 'I'm getting on for thirteen. I've never +been whipped, but I know how you felt. All the same, it must have been +funny!' + +'Funny! If you'd heard Sir Arthur jerking out, "Good Ged, Bucksteed!" +every minute as they rode behind me; and poor Dad saying, '"'Pon my +honour, Arthur, I can't account for it!" Oh, how my cheeks tingled when +I reached my room! But Cissie had laid out my very best evening dress, +the white satin one, vandyked at the bottom with spots of morone foil, +and the pearl knots, you know, catching up the drapery from the left +shoulder. I had poor mother's lace tucker and her coronet comb.' + +'Oh, you lucky!' Una murmured. 'And gloves?' + +'French kid, my dear'--Philadelphia patted her shoulder--'and morone +satin shoes and a morone and gold crape fan. That restored my calm. Nice +things always do. I wore my hair banded on my forehead with a little +curl over the left ear. And when I descended the stairs, en grande +tenue, old Amoore curtsied to me without my having to stop and look at +her, which, alas! is too often the case. Sir Arthur highly approved +of the dinner, my dear: the mackerel did come in time. We had all the +Marklake silver out, and he toasted my health, and he asked me where +my little bird's-nesting sister was. I know he did it to quiz me, so I +looked him straight in the face, my dear, and I said, "I always send her +to the nursery, Sir Arthur, when I receive guests at Marklake Hall."' + +'Oh, how chee--clever of you. What did he say?' Una cried. 'He said, +"Not much change there, Bucksteed. Ged, I deserved it," and he toasted +me again. They talked about the French and what a shame it was that Sir +Arthur only commanded a brigade at Hastings, and he told Dad of a battle +in India at a place called Assaye. Dad said it was a terrible fight, but +Sir Arthur described it as though it had been a whist-party--I suppose +because a lady was present.' + +'Of course you were the lady. I wish I'd seen you,'said Una. + +'I wish you had, child. I had such a triumph after dinner. Rene and +Doctor Break came in. They had quite made up their quarrel, and they +told me they had the highest esteem for each other, and I laughed and +said, "I heard every word of it up in the tree." You never saw two men +so frightened in your life, and when I said, "What was 'the subject of +your remarks,' Rene?" neither of them knew where to look. Oh, I quizzed +them unmercifully. They'd seen me jump off the pigsty roof, remember.' + +'But what was the subject of their remarks?' said Una. + +'Oh, Doctor Break said it was a professional matter, so the laugh +was turned on me. I was horribly afraid it might have been something +unladylike and indelicate. But that wasn't my triumph. Dad asked me to +play on the harp. Between just you and me, child, I had been practising +a new song from London--I don't always live in trees--for weeks; and I +gave it them for a surprise.' + +'What was it?'said Una. 'Sing it.' + +'"I have given my heart to a flower." Not very difficult fingering, but +r-r-ravishing sentiment.' + +Philadelphia coughed and cleared her throat. + +'I've a deep voice for my age and size,' she explained. 'Contralto, you +know, but it ought to be stronger,' and she began, her face all dark +against the last of the soft pink sunset: + + 'I have given my heart to a flower, + Though I know it is fading away, + Though I know it will live but an hour + And leave me to mourn its decay! + +'Isn't that touchingly sweet? Then the last verse--I wish I had my harp, +dear--goes as low as my register will reach.'She drew in her chin, and +took a deep breath: + + 'Ye desolate whirlwinds that rave, + I charge you be good to my dear! + She is all--she is all that I have, + And the time of our parting is near!' + +'Beautiful!' said Una. 'And did they like it?' 'Like it? They were +overwhelmed--accables, as Rene says. My dear, if I hadn't seen it, I +shouldn't have believed that I could have drawn tears, genuine tears, to +the eyes of four grown men. But I did! Rene simply couldn't endure +it! He's all French sensibility. He hid his face and said, "Assez, +Mademoiselle! C'est plus fort que moi! Assez!" And Sir Arthur blew his +nose and said, "Good Ged! This is worse than Assaye!" While Dad sat with +the tears simply running down his cheeks.' + +'And what did Doctor Break do?' + +'He got up and pretended to look out of the window, but I saw his little +fat shoulders jerk as if he had the hiccoughs. That was a triumph. I +never suspected him of sensibility.' + +'Oh, I wish I'd seen! I wish I'd been you,'said Una, clasping her +hands. Puck rustled and rose from the fern, just as a big blundering +cock-chafer flew smack against Una's cheek. + +When she had finished rubbing the place, Mrs Vincey called to her that +Pansy had been fractious, or she would have come long before to help her +strain and pour off. 'It didn't matter,' said Una; 'I just waited. Is +that old Pansy barging about the lower pasture now?' + +'No,' said Mrs Vincey, listening. 'It sounds more like a horse being +galloped middlin' quick through the woods; but there's no road there. +I reckon it's one of Gleason's colts loose. Shall I see you up to the +house, Miss Una?' + +'Gracious, no! thank you. What's going to hurt me?' said Una, and she +put her stool away behind the oak, and strolled home through the gaps +that old Hobden kept open for her. + + + + +Brookland Road + + + I was very well pleased with what I knowed, + I reckoned myself no fool-- + Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road + That turned me back to school. + + Low down--low down! + Where the liddle green lanterns shine-- + Oh! maids, I've done with 'ee all but one, + And she can never be mine! + 'Twas right in the middest of a hot June night, + With thunder duntin' round, + And I seed her face by the fairy light + That beats from off the ground. + + She only smiled and she never spoke, + She smiled and went away; + But when she'd gone my heart was broke, + And my wits was clean astray. + + Oh! Stop your ringing and let me be-- + Let be, O Brookland bells! + You'll ring Old Goodman * out of the sea, + Before I wed one else! + + Old Goodman's farm is rank sea sand, + And was this thousand year; + But it shall turn to rich plough land + Before I change my dear! + + Oh! Fairfield Church is water-bound + From Autumn to the Spring; + But it shall turn to high hill ground + Before my bells do ring! + + Oh! leave me walk on the Brookland Road, + In the thunder and warm rain-- + Oh! leave me look where my love goed + And p'raps I'll see her again! + Low down--low down! + Where the liddle green lanterns shine-- + Oh! maids, I've done with 'ee all but one, + And she can never be mine! + + + *Earl Godwin of the Goodwin Sands(?) + + + + +THE KNIFE AND THE NAKED CHALK + + + + +The Run of the Downs + + + The Weald is good, the Downs are best-- + I'll give you the run of 'em, East to West. + Beachy Head and Winddoor Hill, + They were once and they are still. + Firle, Mount Caburn and Mount Harry + Go back as far as sums'll carry. + Ditchling Beacon and Chanctonbury Ring, + They have looked on many a thing; + And what those two have missed between 'em + I reckon Truleigh Hill has seen 'em. + Highden, Bignor and Duncton Down + Knew Old England before the Crown. + Linch Down, Treyford and Sunwood + Knew Old England before the Flood. + And when you end on the Hampshire side-- + Butser's old as Time and Tide. + The Downs are sheep, the Weald is corn, + You be glad you are Sussex born! + + + + +The Knife and the Naked Chalk + + +The children went to the seaside for a month, and lived in a flint +village on the bare windy chalk Downs, quite thirty miles away from +home. They made friends with an old shepherd, called Mr Dudeney, who had +known their Father when their Father was little. He did not talk like +their own people in the Weald of Sussex, and he used different names for +farm things, but he understood how they felt, and let them go with him. +He had a tiny cottage about half a mile from the village, where his wife +made mead from thyme honey, and nursed sick lambs in front of a coal +fire, while Old Jim, who was Mr Dudeney's sheep-dog's father, lay at +the door. They brought up beef bones for Old Jim (you must never give +a sheep-dog mutton bones), and if Mr Dudeney happened to be far in the +Downs, Mrs Dudeney would tell the dog to take them to him, and he did. + +One August afternoon when the village water-cart had made the street +smell specially townified, they went to look for their shepherd as +usual, and, as usual, Old Jim crawled over the doorstep and took them +in charge. The sun was hot, the dry grass was very slippery, and the +distances were very distant. + +'It's Just like the sea,' said Una, when Old Jim halted in the shade +of a lonely flint barn on a bare rise. 'You see where you're going, +and--you go there, and there's nothing between.' + +Dan slipped off his shoes. 'When we get home I shall sit in the woods +all day,' he said. + +'Whuff!' said Old Jim, to show he was ready, and struck across a long +rolling stretch of turf. Presently he asked for his beefbone. + +'Not yet,' said Dan. 'Where's Mr Dudeney? Where's Master?' Old Jim +looked as if he thought they were mad, and asked again. + +'Don't you give it him,' Una cried. 'I'm not going to be left howling in +a desert.' + +'Show, boy! Show!' said Dan, for the Downs seemed as bare as the palm of +your hand. + +Old Jim sighed, and trotted forward. Soon they spied the blob of Mr +Dudeney's hat against the sky a long way off. + +'Right! All right!' said Dan. Old Jim wheeled round, took his bone +carefully between his blunted teeth, and returned to the shadow of the +old barn, looking just like a wolf. The children went on. Two kestrels +hung bivvering and squealing above them. A gull flapped lazily along the +white edge of the cliffs. The curves of the Downs shook a little in the +heat, and so did Mr Dudeney's distant head. + +They walked toward it very slowly and found themselves staring into +a horseshoe-shaped hollow a hundred feet deep, whose steep sides were +laced with tangled sheep-tracks. The flock grazed on the flat at the +bottom, under charge of Young Jim. Mr Dudeney sat comfortably knitting +on the edge of the slope, his crook between his knees. They told him +what Old Jim had done. + +'Ah, he thought you could see my head as soon as he did. The closeter +you be to the turf the more you see things. You look warm-like,'said Mr +Dudeney. + +'We be,' said Una, flopping down. 'And tired.' + +'Set beside o' me here. The shadow'll begin to stretch out in a little +while, and a heat-shake o' wind will come up with it that'll overlay +your eyes like so much wool.' + +'We don't want to sleep,' said Una indignantly; but she settled herself +as she spoke, in the first strip of early afternoon shade. + +'O' course not. You come to talk with me same as your father used. He +didn't need no dog to guide him to Norton Pit.' + +'Well, he belonged here,' said Dan, and laid himself down at length on +the turf. + +'He did. And what beats me is why he went off to live among them messy +trees in the Weald, when he might ha' stayed here and looked all about +him. There's no profit to trees. They draw the lightning, and sheep +shelter under 'em, and so, like as not, you'll lose a half-score ewes +struck dead in one storm. Tck! Your father knew that.' + +'Trees aren't messy.' Una rose on her elbow. 'And what about firewood? I +don't like coal.' + +'Eh? You lie a piece more uphill and you'll lie more natural,' said Mr +Dudeney, with his provoking deaf smile. 'Now press your face down and +smell to the turf. That's Southdown thyme which makes our Southdown +mutton beyond compare, and, my mother told me, 'twill cure anything +except broken necks, or hearts. I forget which.' + +They sniffed, and somehow forgot to lift their cheeks from the soft +thymy cushions. + +'You don't get nothing like that in the Weald. Watercress, maybe?' said +Mr Dudeney. + +'But we've water--brooks full of it--where you paddle in hot weather,' +Una replied, watching a yellow-and-violet-banded snail-shell close to +her eye. + +'Brooks flood. Then you must shift your sheep--let alone foot-rot +afterward. I put more dependence on a dew-pond any day.' + +'How's a dew-pond made?' said Dan, and tilted his hat over his eyes. Mr +Dudeney explained. + +The air trembled a little as though it could not make up its mind +whether to slide into the Pit or move across the open. But it seemed +easiest to go downhill, and the children felt one soft puff after +another slip and sidle down the slope in fragrant breaths that baffed on +their eyelids. The little whisper of the sea by the cliffs joined with +the whisper of the wind over the grass, the hum of insects in the thyme, +the ruffle and rustle of the flock below, and a thickish mutter deep in +the very chalk beneath them. Mr Dudeney stopped explaining, and went +on with his knitting. They were roused by voices. The shadow had crept +halfway down the steep side of Norton Pit, and on the edge of it, his +back to them, Puck sat beside a half-naked man who seemed busy at some +work. The wind had dropped, and in that funnel of ground every least +noise and movement reached them like whispers up a water-Pipe. + +'That is clever,' said Puck, leaning over. 'How truly you shape it!' + +'Yes, but what does The Beast care for a brittle flint tip? Bah!' The +man flicked something contemptuously over his shoulder. It fell between +Dan and Una--a beautiful dark-blue flint arrow-head still hot from the +maker's hand. + +The man reached for another stone, and worked away like a thrush with a +snail-shell. + +'Flint work is fool's work,' he said at last. 'One does it because one +always did it; but when it comes to dealing with The Beast--no good!' He +shook his shaggy head. 'The Beast was dealt with long ago. He has gone,' +said Puck. + +'He'll be back at lambing time. I know him.' He chipped very carefully, +and the flints squeaked. + +'Not he. Children can lie out on the Chalk now all day through and go +home safe.' + +'Can they? Well, call The Beast by his True Name, and I'll believe it,' +the man replied. 'Surely!' Puck leaped to his feet, curved his hands +round his mouth and shouted: 'Wolf! Wolf!' + +Norton Pit threw back the echo from its dry sides--'Wuff!' Wuff!' like +Young jim's bark. + +'You see? You hear?' said Puck. 'Nobody answers. Grey Shepherd is gone. +Feet-in-the-Night has run off. There are no more wolves.' + +'Wonderful!' The man wiped his forehead as though he were hot. 'Who +drove him away? You?' + +'Many men through many years, each working in his own country. Were you +one of them?' Puck answered. + +The man slid his sheepskin cloak to his waist, and without a word +pointed to his side, which was all seamed and blotched with scars. +His arms, too, were dimpled from shoulder to elbow with horrible white +dimples. + +'I see,' said Puck. 'It is The Beast's mark. What did you use against +him?' 'Hand, hammer, and spear, as our fathers did before us.' + +'So? Then how'--Puck twitched aside the man's dark-brown cloak--'how did +a Flint-worker come by that? Show, man, show!' He held out his little +hand. + +The man slipped a long dark iron knife, almost a short sword, from his +belt, and after breathing on it, handed it hilt-first to Puck, who took +it with his head on one side, as you should when you look at the works +of a watch, squinted down the dark blade, and very delicately rubbed his +forefinger from the point to the hilt. + +'Good!' said he, in a surprised tone. + +'It should be. The Children of the Night made it,' the man answered. + +'So I see by the iron. What might it have cost you?' + +'This!' The man raised his hand to his cheek. Puck whistled like a Weald +starling. + +'By the Great Rings of the Chalk!' he cried. 'Was that your price? Turn +sunward that I may see better, and shut your eye.' He slipped his hand +beneath the man's chin and swung him till he faced the children up the +slope. They saw that his right eye was gone, and the eyelid lay shrunk. +Quickly Puck turned him round again, and the two sat down. + +'It was for the sheep. The sheep are the people,' said the man, in an +ashamed voice. 'What else could I have done? You know, Old One.' + +Puck sighed a little fluttering sigh. 'Take the knife. I listen.' The +man bowed his head, drove the knife into the turf, and while it still +quivered said: 'This is witness between us that I speak the thing that +has been. Before my Knife and the Naked Chalk I speak. Touch!' + +Puck laid a hand on the hilt. It stopped shaking. The children wriggled +a little nearer. + +'I am of the People of the Worked Flint. I am the one son of the +Priestess who sells the Winds to the Men of the Sea. I am the Buyer +of the Knife--the Keeper of the People,' the man began, in a sort of +singing shout. 'These are my names in this country of the Naked Chalk, +between the Trees and the Sea.' + +'Yours was a great country. Your names are great too,' said Puck. + +'One cannot feed some things on names and songs.' The man hit himself +on the chest. 'It is better--always better--to count one's children safe +round the fire, their Mother among them.' + +'Ahai!' said Puck. 'I think this will be a very old tale.' 'I warm +myself and eat at any fire that I choose, but there is no one to light +me a fire or cook my meat. I sold all that when I bought the Magic Knife +for my people. It was not right that The Beast should master man. What +else could I have done?' + +'I hear. I know. I listen,' said Puck. + +'When I was old enough to take my place in the Sheepguard, The Beast +gnawed all our country like a bone between his teeth. He came in behind +the flocks at watering-time, and watched them round the Dew-ponds; he +leaped into the folds between our knees at the shearing; he walked out +alongside the grazing flocks, and chose his meat on the hoof while our +boys threw flints at him; he crept by night 'into the huts, and licked +the babe from between the mother's hands; he called his companions and +pulled down men in broad daylight on the Naked Chalk. No--not always did +he do so! This was his cunning! He would go away for a while to let us +forget him. A year--two years perhaps--we neither smelt, nor heard, nor +saw him. When our flocks had increased; when our men did not always +look behind them; when children strayed from the fenced places; when our +women walked alone to draw water--back, back, back came the Curse of +the Chalk, Grey Shepherd, Feet-in-the-Night--The Beast, The Beast, The +Beast! + +'He laughed at our little brittle arrows and our poor blunt spears. He +learned to run in under the stroke of the hammer. I think he knew when +there was a flaw in the flint. Often it does not show till you bring it +down on his snout. Then--Pouf!---the false flint falls all to flinders, +and you are left with the hammer-handle in your fist, and his teeth in +your flank! I have felt them. At evening, too, in the dew, or when it +has misted and rained, your spear-head lashings slack off, though you +have kept them beneath your cloak all day. You are alone--but so close +to the home ponds that you stop to tighten the sinews with hands, teeth, +and a piece of driftwood. You bend over and pull--so! That is the minute +for which he has followed you since the stars went out. "Aarh!" he +"Wurr-aarh!" he says.' (Norton Pit gave back the growl like a pack of +real wolves.) 'Then he is on your right shoulder feeling for the vein +in your neck, and--perhaps your sheep run on without you. To fight +The Beast is nothing, but to be despised by The Beast when he fights +you--that is like his teeth in the heart! Old One, why is it that men +desire so greatly, and can do so little?' + +'I do not know. Did you desire so much?' said Puck. + +'I desired to master The Beast. It is not right that The Beast should +master man. But my people were afraid. Even, my Mother, the Priestess, +was afraid when I told her what I desired. We were accustomed to be +afraid of The Beast. When I was made a man, and a maiden--she was a +Priestess--waited for me at the Dew-ponds, The Beast flitted from off +the Chalk. Perhaps it was a sickness; perhaps he had gone to his Gods to +learn how to do us new harm. But he went, and we breathed more freely. +The women sang again; the children were not so much guarded; our flocks +grazed far out. I took mine yonder'--he pointed inland to the hazy +line of the Weald--'where the new grass was best. They grazed north. I +followed till we were close to the Trees'--he lowered his voice--'close +there where the Children of the Night live.' He pointed north again. + +'Ah, now I remember a thing,' said Puck. 'Tell me, why did your people +fear the Trees so extremely?' + +'Because the Gods hate the Trees and strike them with lightning. We can +see them burning for days all along the Chalk's edge. Besides, all the +Chalk knows that the Children of the Night, though they worship our +Gods, are magicians. When a man goes into their country, they change his +spirit; they put words into his mouth; they make him like talking water. +But a voice in my heart told me to go toward the north. While I watched +my sheep there I saw three Beasts chasing a man, who ran toward the +Trees. By this I knew he was a Child of the Night. We Flint-workers fear +the Trees more than we fear The Beast. He had no hammer. He carried a +knife like this one. A Beast leaped at him. He stretched out his knife. +The Beast fell dead. The other Beasts ran away howling, which they would +never have done from a Flint-worker. The man went in among the Trees. I +looked for the dead Beast. He had been killed in a new way--by a single +deep, clean cut, without bruise or tear, which had split his bad heart. +Wonderful! So I saw that the man's knife was magic, and I thought how to +get it,--thought strongly how to get it. + +'When I brought the flocks to the shearing, my Mother the Priestess +asked me, "What is the new thing which you have seen and I see in your +face?" I said, "It is a sorrow to me"; and she answered, "All new things +are sorrow. Sit in my place, and eat sorrow." I sat down in her place by +the fire, where she talks to the ghosts in winter, and two voices spoke +in my heart. One voice said, "Ask the Children of the Night for the +Magic Knife. It is not fit that The Beast should master man." I listened +to that voice. + +'One voice said, "If you go among the Trees, the Children of the Night +will change your spirit. Eat and sleep here." The other voice said, "Ask +for the Knife." I listened to that voice. + +'I said to my Mother in the morning, "I go away to find a thing for the +people, but I do not know whether I shall return in my own shape." She +answered, "Whether you live or die, or are made different, I am your +Mother." + +'True,' said Puck. 'The Old Ones themselves cannot change men's mothers +even if they would.' + +'Let us thank the Old Ones! I spoke to my Maiden, the Priestess who +waited for me at the Dew-ponds. She promised fine things too.' The man +laughed. 'I went away to that place where I had seen the magician with +the knife. I lay out two days on the short grass before I ventured among +the Trees. I felt my way before me with a stick. I was afraid of the +terrible talking Trees. I was afraid of the ghosts in the branches; of +the soft ground underfoot; of the red and black waters. I was afraid, +above all, of the Change. It came!' + +They saw him wipe his forehead once again, and his strong back-muscles +quivered till he laid his hand on the knife-hilt. + +'A fire without a flame burned in my head; an evil taste grew in my +mouth; my eyelids shut hot over my eyes; my breath was hot between my +teeth, and my hands were like the hands of a stranger. I was made to +sing songs and to mock the Trees, though I was afraid of them. At the +same time I saw myself laughing, and I was very sad for this fine young +man, who was myself. Ah! The Children of the Night know magic.' + +'I think that is done by the Spirits of the Mist. They change a man, if +he sleeps among them,' said Puck. 'Had you slept in any mists?' + +'Yes--but I know it was the Children of the Night. After three days I +saw a red light behind the Trees, and I heard a heavy noise. I saw the +Children of the Night dig red stones from a hole, and lay them in fires. +The stones melted like tallow, and the men beat the soft stuff with +hammers. I wished to speak to these men, but the words were changed in +my mouth, and all I could say was, "Do not make that noise. It hurts my +head." By this I knew that I was bewitched, and I clung to the Trees, +and prayed the Children of the Night to take off their spells. They were +cruel. They asked me many questions which they would never allow me to +answer. They changed my words between my teeth till I wept. Then they +led me into a hut and covered the floor with hot stones and dashed water +on the stones, and sang charms till the sweat poured off me like +water. I slept. When I waked, my own spirit--not the strange, shouting +thing--was back in my body, and I was like a cool bright stone on the +shingle between the sea and the sunshine. The magicians came to hear +me--women and men--each wearing a Magic Knife. Their Priestess was their +Ears and their Mouth. + +'I spoke. I spoke many words that went smoothly along like sheep in +order when their shepherd, standing on a mound, can count those coming, +and those far off getting ready to come. I asked for Magic Knives for my +people. I said that my people would bring meat, and milk, and wool, and +lay them in the short grass outside the Trees, if the Children of the +Night would leave Magic Knives for our people to take away. They +were pleased. Their Priestess said, "For whose sake have you come?" I +answered, "The sheep are the people. If The Beast kills our sheep, our +people die. So I come for a Magic Knife to kill The Beast." + +'She said, "We do not know if our God will let us trade with the people +of the Naked Chalk. Wait till we have asked." + +'When they came back from the Question-place (their Gods are our Gods), +their Priestess said, "The God needs a proof that your words are true." +I said, "What is the proof?" She said, "The God says that if you have +come for the sake of your people you will give him your right eye to be +put out; but if you have come for any other reason you will not give it. +This proof is between you and the God. We ourselves are sorry." + +'I said, "This is a hard proof. Is there no other road?" + +'She said, "Yes. You can go back to your people with your two eyes in +your head if you choose. But then you will not get any Magic Knives for +your people." + +'I said, "It would be easier if I knew that I were to be killed." + +'She said, "Perhaps the God knew this too. See! I have made my knife +hot." + +'I said, "Be quick, then!" With her knife heated in the flame she put +out my right eye. She herself did it. I am the son of a Priestess. She +was a Priestess. It was not work for any common man.' + +'True! Most true,' said Puck. 'No common man's work that. And, +afterwards?' + +'Afterwards I did not see out of that eye any more. I found also that a +one eye does not tell you truly where things are. Try it!' + +At this Dan put his hand over one eye, and reached for the flint +arrow-head on the grass. He missed it by inches. 'It's true,' he +whispered to Una. 'You can't judge distances a bit with only one eye.' + +Puck was evidently making the same experiment, for the man laughed at +him. + +'I know it is so,' said he. 'Even now I am not always sure of my blow. +I stayed with the Children of the Night till my eye healed. They said I +was the son of Tyr, the God who put his right hand in a Beast's mouth. +They showed me how they melted their red stone and made the Magic Knives +of it. They told me the charms they sang over the fires and at the +beatings. I can sing many charms.' Then he began to laugh like a boy. + +'I was thinking of my journey home,' he said, 'and of the surprised +Beast. He had come back to the Chalk. I saw him--I smelt his lairs as +soon as ever I left the Trees. He did not know I had the Magic Knife--I +hid it under my cloak--the Knife that the Priestess gave me. Ho! Ho! +That happy day was too short! See! A Beast would wind me. "Wow!" he +would say. "Here is my Flint-worker!" He would come leaping, tail +in air; he would roll; he would lay his head between his paws out of +merriness of heart at his warm, waiting meal. He would leap--and, oh, +his eye in mid-leap when he saw--when he saw the knife held ready for +him! It pierced his hide as a rush pierces curdled milk. Often he had no +time to howl. I did not trouble to flay any beasts I killed. Sometimes +I missed my blow. Then I took my little flint hammer and beat out his +brains as he cowered. He made no fight. He knew the Knife! But The Beast +is very cunning. Before evening all The Beasts had smelt the blood on my +knife, and were running from me like hares. They knew! Then I walked as +a man should--the Master of The Beast! + +'So came I back to my Mother's house. There was a lamb to be killed. +I cut it in two halves with my knife, and I told her all my tale. She +said, "This is the work of a God." I kissed her and laughed. I went to +my Maiden who waited for me at the Dew-ponds. There was a lamb to be +killed. I cut it in two halves with my knife, and told her all my tale. +She said, "It is the work of a God." I laughed, but she pushed me away, +and being on my blind side, ran off before I could kiss her. I went +to the Men of the Sheepguard at watering-time. There was a sheep to be +killed for their meat. I cut it in two halves with my knife, and told +them all my tale. They said, "It is the work of a God." I said, "We talk +too much about Gods. Let us eat and be happy, and tomorrow I will take +you to the Children of the Night, and each man will find a Magic Knife." + + +'I was glad to smell our sheep again; to see the broad sky from edge to +edge, and to hear the sea. I slept beneath the stars in my cloak. The +men talked among themselves. + +'I led them, the next day, to the Trees, taking with me meat, wool, and +curdled milk, as I had promised. We found the Magic Knives laid out on +the grass, as the Children of the Night had promised. They watched us +from among the Trees. Their Priestess called to me and said, "How is it +with your people?" I said "Their hearts are changed. I cannot see their +hearts as I used to." She said, "That is because you have only one eye. +Come to me and I will be both your eyes." But I said, "I must show my +people how to use their knives against The Beast, as you showed me how +to use my knife." I said this because the Magic Knife does not balance +like the flint. She said, "What you have done, you have done for the +sake of a woman, and not for the sake of your people." I asked of her, +"Then why did the God accept my right eye, and why are you so angry?" +She answered, "Because any man can lie to a God, but no man can lie to +a woman. And I am not angry with you. I am only very sorrowful for you. +Wait a little, and you will see out of your one eye why I am sorry." So +she hid herself. + +'I went back with my people, each one carrying his Knife, and making +it sing in the air--tssee-sssse. The Flint never sings. It +mutters--ump-ump. The Beast heard. The Beast saw. He knew! Everywhere +he ran away from us. We all laughed. As we walked over the grass my +Mother's brother--the Chief on the Men's Side--he took off his Chief's +necklace of yellow sea-stones.' + +'How? Eh? Oh, I remember! Amber,' said Puck. + +'And would have put them on my neck. I said, "No, I am content. What +does my one eye matter if my other eye sees fat sheep and fat children +running about safely?" My Mother's brother said to them, "I told you he +would never take such things." Then they began to sing a song in the Old +Tongue--The Song of Tyr. I sang with them, but my Mother's brother said, +"This is your song, O Buyer of the Knife. Let us sing it, Tyr." + +'Even then I did not understand, till I saw that--that no man stepped +on my shadow; and I knew that they thought me to be a God, like the God +Tyr, who gave his right hand to conquer a Great Beast.' + +'By the Fire in the Belly of the Flint was that so?' Puck rapped out. + +'By my Knife and the Naked Chalk, so it was! They made way for my shadow +as though it had been a Priestess walking to the Barrows of the Dead. +I was afraid. I said to myself, "My Mother and my Maiden will know I am +not Tyr." But still I was afraid, with the fear of a man who falls into +a steep flint-pit while he runs, and feels that it will be hard to climb +out. + +'When we came to the Dew-ponds all our people were there. The men showed +their knives and told their tale. The sheep guards also had seen +The Beast flying from us. The Beast went west across the river in +packs--howling! He knew the Knife had come to the Naked Chalk at +last--at last! He knew! So my work was done. I looked for my Maiden +among the Priestesses. She looked at me, but she did not smile. She made +the sign to me that our Priestesses must make when they sacrifice to the +Old Dead in the Barrows. I would have spoken, but my Mother's brother +made himself my Mouth, as though I had been one of the Old Dead in the +Barrows for whom our Priests speak to the people on Midsummer Mornings.' + +'I remember. Well I remember those Midsummer Mornings!' said Puck. + +'Then I went away angrily to my Mother's house. She would have knelt +before me. Then I was more angry, but she said, "Only a God would have +spoken to me thus, a Priestess. A man would have feared the punishment +of the Gods." I looked at her and I laughed. I could not stop my unhappy +laughing. They called me from the door by the name of Tyr himself. A +young man with whom I had watched my first flocks, and chipped my first +arrow, and fought my first Beast, called me by that name in the Old +Tongue. He asked my leave to take my Maiden. His eyes were lowered, his +hands were on his forehead. He was full of the fear of a God, but of me, +a man, he had no fear when he asked. I did not kill him. I said, "Call +the maiden." She came also without fear--this very one that had waited +for me, that had talked with me, by our Dew-ponds. Being a Priestess, +she lifted her eyes to me. As I look on a hill or a cloud, so she looked +at me. She spoke in the Old Tongue which Priestesses use when they make +prayers to the Old Dead in the Barrows. She asked leave that she might +light the fire in my companion's house--and that I should bless their +children. I did not kill her. I heard my own voice, little and cold, +say, "Let it be as you desire," and they went away hand in hand. My +heart grew little and cold; a wind shouted in my ears; my eye darkened. +I said to my Mother, "Can a God die?" I heard her say, "What is it? What +is it, my son?" and I fell into darkness full of hammer-noises. I was +not.' + +'Oh, poor--poor God!' said Puck. 'And your wise Mother?' + +'She knew. As soon as I dropped she knew. When my spirit came back +I heard her whisper in my ear, "Whether you live or die, or are made +different, I am your Mother." That was good--better even than the water +she gave me and the going away of the sickness. Though I was ashamed to +have fallen down, yet I was very glad. She was glad too. Neither of us +wished to lose the other. There is only the one Mother for the one son. +I heaped the fire for her, and barred the doors, and sat at her feet as +before I went away, and she combed my hair, and sang. + +'I said at last, "What is to be done to the people who say that I am +Tyr?" + +'She said, "He who has done a God-like thing must bear himself like a +God. I see no way out of it. The people are now your sheep till you die. +You cannot drive them off." + + +'I said, "This is a heavier sheep than I can lift." She said, "In time +it will grow easy. In time perhaps you will not lay it down for any +maiden anywhere. Be wise--be very wise, my son, for nothing is left you +except the words, and the songs, and the worship of a God." + +'Oh, poor God!' said Puck. 'But those are not altogether bad things.' + +'I know they are not; but I would sell them all--all--all for one small +child of my own, smearing himself with the ashes of our own house-fire.' + +He wrenched his knife from the turf, thrust it into his belt and stood +up. + +'And yet, what else could I have done?' he said. 'The sheep are the +people.' + +'It is a very old tale,' Puck answered. 'I have heard the like of it not +only on the Naked Chalk, but also among the Trees--under Oak, and Ash, +and Thorn.' + +The afternoon shadows filled all the quiet emptiness of Norton Pit. The +children heard the sheep-bells and Young jim's busy bark above them, and +they scrambled up the slope to the level. + +'We let you have your sleep out,' said Mr Dudeney, as the flock +scattered before them. 'It's making for tea-time now.' + +'Look what I've found, said Dan, and held up a little blue flint +arrow-head as fresh as though it had been chipped that very day. + +'Oh,' said Mr Dudeney, 'the closeter you be to the turf the more you're +apt to see things. I've found 'em often. Some says the fairies made 'em, +but I says they was made by folks like ourselves--only a goodish time +back. They're lucky to keep. Now, you couldn't ever have slept--not to +any profit--among your father's trees same as you've laid out on Naked +Chalk--could you?' + +'One doesn't want to sleep in the woods,' said Una. + +'Then what's the good of 'em?' said Mr Dudeney. 'Might as well set in +the barn all day. Fetch 'em 'long, Jim boy!' + +The Downs, that looked so bare and hot when they came, were full of +delicious little shadow-dimples; the smell of the thyme and the salt +mixed together on the south-west drift from the still sea; their eyes +dazzled with the low sun, and the long grass under it looked golden. The +sheep knew where their fold was, so Young Jim came back to his master, +and they all four strolled home, the scabious-heads swishing about their +ankles, and their shadows streaking behind them like the shadows of +giants. + + + + +Song of the Men's Side + + + Once we feared The Beast--when he followed us we ran, + Ran very fast though we knew + It was not right that The Beast should master Man; + But what could we Flint-workers do? + The Beast only grinned at our spears round his ears-- + Grinned at the hammers that we made; + But now we will hunt him for the life with the Knife-- + And this is the Buyer of the Blade! + + Room for his shadow on the grass--let it pass! + To left and right--stand clear! + This is the Buyer of the Blade--be afraid! + This is the great God Tyr! + + Tyr thought hard till he hammered out a plan, + For he knew it was not right + (And it is not right) that The Beast should master Man; + So he went to the Children of the Night. + He begged a Magic Knife of their make for our sake. + When he begged for the Knife they said: + 'The price of the Knife you would buy is an eye!' + And that was the price he paid. + + Tell it to the Barrows of the Dead--run ahead! + Shout it so the Women's Side can hear! + This is the Buyer of the Blade--be afraid! + This is the great God Tyr! + + Our women and our little ones may walk on the Chalk, + As far as we can see them and beyond. + We shall not be anxious for our sheep when we keep + Tally at the shearing-pond. + + We can eat with both our elbows on our knees, if we please, + We can sleep after meals in the sun; + For Shepherd-of-the-Twilight is dismayed at the Blade, + Feet-in-the-Night have run! + Dog-without-a-Master goes away (Hai, Tyr aie!), + Devil-in-the-Dusk has run! + + Then: + Room for his shadow on the grass--let it pass! + To left and right--stand clear! + This is the Buyer of the Blade--be afraid! + This is the great God Tyr! + + + + +BROTHER SQUARE-TOES + + + + +Philadelphia + + + If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, + You mustn't take my stories for a guide. + There's little left indeed of the city you will read of, + And all the folk I write about have died. + Now few will understand if you mention Talleyrand, + Or remember what his cunning and his skill did. + And the cabmen at the wharf do not know Count Zinnendorf, + Nor the Church in Philadelphia he builded. + + It is gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis + (Never say I didn't give you warning). + In Seventeen Ninety-three 'twas there for all to see, + But it's not in Philadelphia this morning. + + If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, + You mustn't go by everything I've said. + Bob Bicknell's Southern Stages have been laid aside for ages, + But the Limited will take you there instead. + Toby Hirte can't be seen at One Hundred and Eighteen, + North Second Street--no matter when you call; + And I fear you'll search in vain for the wash-house down the lane + Where Pharaoh played the fiddle at the ball. + + It is gone, gone, gone with Thebes the Golden + (Never say I didn't give you warning). + In Seventeen Ninety-four 'twas a famous dancing-floor-- + But it's not in Philadelphia this morning. + + If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, + You must telegraph for rooms at some Hotel. + You needn't try your luck at Epply's or the 'Buck,' + Though the Father of his Country liked them well. + It is not the slightest use to inquire for Adam Goos, + Or to ask where Pastor Meder has removed--so + You must treat as out-of-date the story I relate + Of the Church in Philadelphia he loved so. + + He is gone, gone, gone with Martin Luther + (Never say I didn't give you warning). + In Seventeen Ninety-five he was (rest his soul!) alive, + But he's not in Philadelphia this morning. + If you're off to Philadelphia this morning, + And wish to prove the truth of what I say, + I pledge my word you'll find the pleasant land behind + Unaltered since Red Jacket rode that way. + Still the pine-woods scent the noon; still the cat-bird sings his tune; + Still Autumn sets the maple-forest blazing. + Still the grape-vine through the dusk flings her soul-compelling musk; + Still the fire-flies in the corn make night amazing. + They are there, there, there with Earth immortal + (Citizens, I give you friendly warning). + The things that truly last when men and times have passed, + They are all in Pennsylvania this morning! + + + + +Brother Square-Toes + + +It was almost the end of their visit to the seaside. They had turned +themselves out of doors while their trunks were being packed, and +strolled over the Downs towards the dull evening sea. The tide was dead +low under the chalk cliffs, and the little wrinkled waves grieved along +the sands up the coast to Newhaven and down the coast to long, grey +Brighton, whose smoke trailed out across the Channel. + +They walked to The Gap, where the cliff is only a few feet high. A +windlass for hoisting shingle from the beach below stands at the edge of +it. The Coastguard cottages are a little farther on, and an old ship's +figurehead of a Turk in a turban stared at them over the wall. 'This +time tomorrow we shall be at home, thank goodness,' said Una. 'I hate +the sea!' + +'I believe it's all right in the middle,' said Dan. 'The edges are the +sorrowful parts.' + +Cordery, the coastguard, came out of the cottage, levelled his telescope +at some fishing-boats, shut it with a click and walked away. He grew +smaller and smaller along the edge of the cliff, where neat piles of +white chalk every few yards show the path even on the darkest night. +'Where's Cordery going?'said Una. + +'Half-way to Newhaven,'said Dan. 'Then he'll meet the Newhaven +coastguard and turn back. He says if coastguards were done away with, +smuggling would start up at once.' + +A voice on the beach under the cliff began to sing: + + 'The moon she shined on Telscombe Tye-- + On Telscombe Tye at night it was-- + She saw the smugglers riding by, + A very pretty sight it was!' + +Feet scrabbled on the flinty path. A dark, thin-faced man in very neat +brown clothes and broad-toed shoes came up, followed by Puck. + + 'Three Dunkirk boats was standin' in!' + +the man went on. 'Hssh!' said Puck. 'You'll shock these nice young +people.' + +'Oh! Shall I? Mille pardons!' He shrugged his shoulders almost up to his +ears--spread his hands abroad, and jabbered in French. 'No comprenny?' +he said. 'I'll give it you in Low German.' And he went off in another +language, changing his voice and manner so completely that they hardly +knew him for the same person. But his dark beady-brown eyes still +twinkled merrily in his lean face, and the children felt that they did +not suit the straight, plain, snuffy-brown coat, brown knee-breeches, +and broad-brimmed hat. His hair was tied 'in a short pigtail which +danced wickedly when he turned his head. + +'Ha' done!' said Puck, laughing. 'Be one thing or t'other, +Pharaoh--French or English or German--no great odds which.' + +'Oh, but it is, though,' said Una quickly. 'We haven't begun German yet, +and--and we're going back to our French next week.' + +'Aren't you English?' said Dan. 'We heard you singing just now.' + +'Aha! That was the Sussex side o' me. Dad he married a French girl +out o' Boulogne, and French she stayed till her dyin' day. She was an +Aurette, of course. We Lees mostly marry Aurettes. Haven't you ever come +across the saying: + + 'Aurettes and Lees, + Like as two peas. + What they can't smuggle, + They'll run over seas'? + +'Then, are you a smuggler?' Una cried; and, 'Have you smuggled +much?'said Dan. + +Mr Lee nodded solemnly. + +'Mind you,' said he, 'I don't uphold smuggling for the generality o' +mankind--mostly they can't make a do of it--but I was brought up to the +trade, d'ye see, in a lawful line o' descent on'--he waved across the +Channel--'on both sides the water. 'Twas all in the families, same +as fiddling. The Aurettes used mostly to run the stuff across from +Boulogne, and we Lees landed it here and ran it up to London Town, by +the safest road.' + +'Then where did you live?' said Una. + +'You mustn't ever live too close to your business in our trade. We kept +our little fishing smack at Shoreham, but otherwise we Lees was all +honest cottager folk--at Warminghurst under Washington--Bramber way--on +the old Penn estate.' + +'Ah!' said Puck, squatted by the windlass. 'I remember a piece about the +Lees at Warminghurst, I do: + + 'There was never a Lee to Warminghurst + That wasn't a gipsy last and first. + +I reckon that's truth, Pharaoh.' + +Pharaoh laughed. 'Admettin' that's true,' he said, 'my gipsy blood must +be wore pretty thin, for I've made and kept a worldly fortune.' + +'By smuggling?' Dan asked. 'No, in the tobacco trade.' + +'You don't mean to say you gave up smuggling just to go and be a +tobacconist!' Dan looked so disappointed they all had to laugh. + +'I'm sorry; but there's all sorts of tobacconists,' Pharaoh replied. +'How far out, now, would you call that smack with the patch on her +foresail?' He pointed to the fishing-boats. + +'A scant mile,' said Puck after a quick look. + +'Just about. It's seven fathom under her--clean sand. That was where +Uncle Aurette used to sink his brandy kegs from Boulogne, and we fished +'em up and rowed 'em into The Gap here for the ponies to run inland. +One thickish night in January of 'Ninety-three, Dad and Uncle Lot and me +came over from Shoreham in the smack, and we found Uncle Aurette and the +L'Estranges, my cousins, waiting for us in their lugger with New Year's +presents from Mother's folk in Boulogne. I remember Aunt Cecile she'd +sent me a fine new red knitted cap, which I put on then and there, for +the French was having their Revolution in those days, and red caps was +all the fashion. Uncle Aurette tells us that they had cut off their +King Louis' head, and, moreover, the Brest forts had fired on an English +man-o'-war. The news wasn't a week old. + +'"That means war again, when we was only just getting used to the +peace," says Dad. "Why can't King George's men and King Louis' men do on +their uniforms and fight it out over our heads?" + +'"Me too, I wish that," says Uncle Aurette. "But they'll be pressing +better men than themselves to fight for 'em. The press-gangs are out +already on our side. You look out for yours." + +'"I'll have to bide ashore and grow cabbages for a while, after I've run +this cargo; but I do wish"--Dad says, going over the lugger's side with +our New Year presents under his arm and young L'Estrange holding the +lantern--"I just do wish that those folk which make war so easy had to +run one cargo a month all this winter. It 'ud show 'em what honest work +means." + +'"Well, I've warned ye," says Uncle Aurette. "I'll be slipping off now +before your Revenue cutter comes. Give my love to Sister and take care +o' the kegs. It's thicking to southward." 'I remember him waving to us +and young Stephen L'Estrange blowing out the lantern. By the time we'd +fished up the kegs the fog came down so thick Dad judged it risky for me +to row 'em ashore, even though we could hear the ponies stamping on +the beach. So he and Uncle Lot took the dinghy and left me in the smack +playing on my fiddle to guide 'em back. + +'Presently I heard guns. Two of 'em sounded mighty like Uncle Aurette's +three-pounders. He didn't go naked about the seas after dark. Then come +more, which I reckoned was Captain Giddens in the Revenue cutter. He was +open-handed with his compliments, but he would lay his guns himself. I +stopped fiddling to listen, and I heard a whole skyful o' French up in +the fog--and a high bow come down on top o' the smack. I hadn't time to +call or think. I remember the smack heeling over, and me standing on the +gunwale pushing against the ship's side as if I hoped to bear her off. +Then the square of an open port, with a lantern in it, slid by in front +of my nose. I kicked back on our gunwale as it went under and slipped +through that port into the French ship--me and my fiddle.' + +'Gracious!' said Una. 'What an adventure!' + +'Didn't anybody see you come in?' said Dan. + +'There wasn't any one there. I'd made use of an orlop-deck port--that's +the next deck below the gun-deck, which by rights should not have been +open at all. The crew was standing by their guns up above. I rolled on +to a pile of dunnage in the dark and I went to sleep. When I woke, men +was talking all round me, telling each other their names and sorrows +just like Dad told me pressed men used to talk in the last war. Pretty +soon I made out they'd all been hove aboard together by the press-gangs, +and left to sort 'emselves. The ship she was the Embuscade, a +thirty-six-gun Republican frigate, Captain Jean Baptiste Bompard, two +days out of Le Havre, going to the United States with a Republican +French Ambassador of the name of Genet. They had been up all night +clearing for action on account of hearing guns in the fog. Uncle Aurette +and Captain Giddens must have been passing the time o' day with each +other off Newhaven, and the frigate had drifted past 'em. She never knew +she'd run down our smack. Seeing so many aboard was total strangers +to each other, I thought one more mightn't be noticed; so I put Aunt +Cecile's red cap on the back of my head, and my hands in my pockets like +the rest, and, as we French say, I circulated till I found the galley. + +'"What! Here's one of 'em that isn't sick!" says a cook. "Take his +breakfast to Citizen Bompard." + +'I carried the tray to the cabin, but I didn't call this Bompard +"Citizen." Oh no! "Mon Capitaine" was my little word, same as Uncle +Aurette used to answer in King Louis' Navy. Bompard, he liked it. He +took me on for cabin servant, and after that no one asked questions; and +thus I got good victuals and light work all the way across to America. +He talked a heap of politics, and so did his officers, and when this +Ambassador Genet got rid of his land-stomach and laid down the law +after dinner, a rooks' parliament was nothing compared to their cabin. I +learned to know most of the men which had worked the French Revolution, +through waiting at table and hearing talk about 'em. One of our +forecas'le six-pounders was called Danton and t'other Marat. I used to +play the fiddle between 'em, sitting on the capstan. Day in and day out +Bompard and Monsieur Genet talked o' what France had done, and how the +United States was going to join her to finish off the English in this +war. Monsieur Genet said he'd justabout make the United States fight for +France. He was a rude common man. But I liked listening. I always helped +drink any healths that was proposed--specially Citizen Danton's who'd +cut off King Louis' head. An all-Englishman might have been shocked--but +that's where my French blood saved me. + +'It didn't save me from getting a dose of ship's fever though, the week +before we put Monsieur Genet ashore at Charleston; and what was left +of me after bleeding and pills took the dumb horrors from living 'tween +decks. The surgeon, Karaguen his name was, kept me down there to help +him with his plasters--I was too weak to wait on Bompard. I don't +remember much of any account for the next few weeks, till I smelled +lilacs, and I looked out of the port, and we was moored to a wharf-edge +and there was a town o' fine gardens and red-brick houses and all the +green leaves o' God's world waiting for me outside. + +'"What's this?" I said to the sick-bay man--Old Pierre Tiphaigne he was. +"Philadelphia," says Pierre. "You've missed it all. We're sailing next +week." + +'I just turned round and cried for longing to be amongst the laylocks. + +'"If that's your trouble," says old Pierre, "you go straight ashore. +None'll hinder you. They're all gone mad on these coasts--French and +American together. 'Tisn't my notion o' war." Pierre was an old King +Louis man. + +'My legs was pretty tottly, but I made shift to go on deck, which it +was like a fair. The frigate was crowded with fine gentlemen and ladies +pouring in and out. They sung and they waved French flags, while Captain +Bompard and his officers--yes, and some of the men--speechified to +all and sundry about war with England. They shouted, "Down with +England!"--"Down with Washington!"--"Hurrah for France and the +Republic!" I couldn't make sense of it. I wanted to get out from that +crunch of swords and petticoats and sit in a field. One of the gentlemen +said to me, "Is that a genuine cap o' Liberty you're wearing?" 'Twas +Aunt Cecile's red one, and pretty near wore out. "Oh yes!" I says, +"straight from France." "I'll give you a shilling for it," he says, and +with that money in my hand and my fiddle under my arm I squeezed past +the entry-port and went ashore. It was like a dream--meadows, trees, +flowers, birds, houses, and people all different! I sat me down in +a meadow and fiddled a bit, and then I went in and out the streets, +looking and smelling and touching, like a little dog at a fair. Fine +folk was setting on the white stone doorsteps of their houses, and +a girl threw me a handful of laylock sprays, and when I said "Merci" +without thinking, she said she loved the French. They all was the +fashion in the city. I saw more tricolour flags in Philadelphia than +ever I'd seen in Boulogne, and every one was shouting for war with +England. A crowd o' folk was cheering after our French Ambassador--that +same Monsieur Genet which we'd left at Charleston. He was a-horseback +behaving as if the place belonged to him--and commanding all and sundry +to fight the British. But I'd heard that before. I got into a long +straight street as wide as the Broyle, where gentlemen was racing +horses. I'm fond o' horses. Nobody hindered 'em, and a man told me it +was called Race Street o' purpose for that. Then I followed some black +niggers, which I'd never seen close before; but I left them to run after +a great, proud, copper-faced man with feathers in his hair and a red +blanket trailing behind him. A man told me he was a real Red Indian +called Red Jacket, and I followed him into an alley-way off Race +Street by Second Street, where there was a fiddle playing. I'm fond +o' fiddling. The Indian stopped at a baker's shop--Conrad Gerhard's +it was--and bought some sugary cakes. Hearing what the price was I was +going to have some too, but the Indian asked me in English if I was +hungry. "Oh yes!" I says. I must have looked a sore scrattel. He opens +a door on to a staircase and leads the way up. We walked into a dirty +little room full of flutes and fiddles and a fat man fiddling by the +window, in a smell of cheese and medicines fit to knock you down. I was +knocked down too, for the fat man jumped up and hit me a smack in the +face. I fell against an old spinet covered with pill-boxes and the pills +rolled about the floor. The Indian never moved an eyelid. + +'"Pick up the pills! Pick up the pills!" the fat man screeches. + +'I started picking 'em up--hundreds of 'em--meaning to run out under the +Indian's arm, but I came on giddy all over and I sat down. The fat man +went back to his fiddling. + +'"Toby!" says the Indian after quite a while. "I brought the boy to be +fed, not hit." + +'"What?" says Toby, "I thought it was Gert Schwankfelder." He put down +his fiddle and took a good look at me. "Himmel!" he says. "I have hit +the wrong boy. It is not the new boy. Why are you not the new boy? Why +are you not Gert Schwankfelder?" + +'"I don't know," I said. "The gentleman in the pink blanket brought me." + +'Says the Indian, "He is hungry, Toby. Christians always feed the +hungry. So I bring him." + +'"You should have said that first," said Toby. He pushed plates at me +and the Indian put bread and pork on them, and a glass of Madeira wine. +I told him I was off the French ship, which I had joined on account of +my mother being French. That was true enough when you think of it, and +besides I saw that the French was all the fashion in Philadelphia. Toby +and the Indian whispered and I went on picking up the pills. + +'"You like pills--eh?" says Toby. "No," I says. "I've seen our ship's +doctor roll too many of em." + +'"Ho!" he says, and he shoves two bottles at me. "What's those?" + +'"Calomel," I says. "And t'other's senna." + +'"Right," he says. "One week have I tried to teach Gert Schwankfelder +the difference between them, yet he cannot tell. You like to fiddle?" he +says. He'd just seen my kit on the floor. + +'"Oh yes!" says I. + +'"Oho!" he says. "What note is this?" drawing his bow across. + +'He meant it for A, so I told him it was. + +'"My brother," he says to the Indian. "I think this is the hand of +Providence! I warned that Gert if he went to play upon the wharves +any more he would hear from me. Now look at this boy and say what you +think." + +'The Indian looked me over whole minutes--there was a musical clock on +the wall and dolls came out and hopped while the hour struck. He looked +me over all the while they did it. + +'"Good," he says at last. "This boy is good." + +'"Good, then," says Toby. "Now I shall play my fiddle and you shall sing +your hymn, brother. Boy, go down to the bakery and tell them you are +young Gert Schwankfelder that was. The horses are in Davy jones's +locker. If you ask any questions you shall hear from me." + +'I left 'em singing hymns and I went down to old Conrad Gerhard. He +wasn't at all surprised when I told him I was young Gert Schwankfelder +that was. He knew Toby. His wife she walked me into the back-yard +without a word, and she washed me and she cut my hair to the edge of a +basin, and she put me to bed, and oh! how I slept--how I slept in that +little room behind the oven looking on the flower garden! I didn't know +Toby went to the Embuscade that night and bought me off Dr Karaguen for +twelve dollars and a dozen bottles of Seneca Oil. Karaguen wanted a new +lace to his coat, and he reckoned I hadn't long to live; so he put me +down as "discharged sick." + +'I like Toby,' said Una. + +'Who was he?' said Puck. + +'Apothecary Tobias Hirte,' Pharaoh replied. 'One Hundred and Eighteen, +Second Street--the famous Seneca Oil man, that lived half of every year +among the Indians. But let me tell my tale my own way, same as his brown +mare used to go to Lebanon.' + +'Then why did he keep her in Davy Jones's locker?' Dan asked. 'That was +his joke. He kept her under David Jones's hat shop in the "Buck" tavern +yard, and his Indian friends kept their ponies there when they visited +him. I looked after the horses when I wasn't rolling pills on top of +the old spinet, while he played his fiddle and Red Jacket sang hymns. +I liked it. I had good victuals, light work, a suit o' clean clothes, a +plenty music, and quiet, smiling German folk all around that let me +sit in their gardens. My first Sunday, Toby took me to his church in +Moravian Alley; and that was in a garden too. The women wore long-eared +caps and handkerchiefs. They came in at one door and the men at another, +and there was a brass chandelier you could see your face in, and a +nigger-boy to blow the organ bellows. I carried Toby's fiddle, and he +played pretty much as he chose all against the organ and the singing. He +was the only one they let do it, for they was a simple-minded folk. They +used to wash each other's feet up in the attic to keep 'emselves humble: +which Lord knows they didn't need.' + +'How very queer!' said Una. + +Pharaoh's eyes twinkled. 'I've met many and seen much,' he said; 'but I +haven't yet found any better or quieter or forbearinger people than the +Brethren and Sistern of the Moravian Church in Philadelphia. Nor will I +ever forget my first Sunday--the service was in English that week--with +the smell of the flowers coming in from Pastor Meder's garden where +the big peach tree is, and me looking at all the clean strangeness and +thinking of 'tween decks on the Embuscade only six days ago. Being a +boy, it seemed to me it had lasted for ever, and was going on for +ever. But I didn't know Toby then. As soon as the dancing clock struck +midnight that Sunday--I was lying under the spinet--I heard Toby's +fiddle. He'd just done his supper, which he always took late and heavy. +"Gert," says he, "get the horses. Liberty and Independence for Ever! The +flowers appear upon the earth, and the time of the singing of birds is +come. We are going to my country seat in Lebanon." + +'I rubbed my eyes, and fetched 'em out of the "Buck" stables. Red Jacket +was there saddling his, and when I'd packed the saddle-bags we three +rode up Race Street to the Ferry by starlight. So we went travelling. +It's a kindly, softly country there, back of Philadelphia among the +German towns, Lancaster way. Little houses and bursting big barns, fat +cattle, fat women, and all as peaceful as Heaven might be if they farmed +there. Toby sold medicines out of his saddlebags, and gave the French +war-news to folk along the roads. Him and his long-hilted umberell +was as well known as the stage-coaches. He took orders for that famous +Seneca Oil which he had the secret of from Red Jacket's Indians, and he +slept in friends' farmhouses, but he would shut all the windows; so Red +Jacket and me slept outside. There's nothing to hurt except snakes--and +they slip away quick enough if you thrash in the bushes.' + +'I'd have liked that!' said Dan. + +'I'd no fault to find with those days. In the cool o' the morning the +cat-bird sings. He's something to listen to. And there's a smell of wild +grape-vine growing in damp hollows which you drop into, after long rides +in the heat, which is beyond compare for sweetness. So's the puffs out +of the pine woods of afternoons. Come sundown, the frogs strike up, and +later on the fireflies dance in the corn. Oh me, the fireflies in the +corn! We were a week or ten days on the road, tacking from one place to +another--such as Lancaster, Bethlehem-Ephrata--"thou Bethlehem-Ephrata." +No odds--I loved the going about. And so we jogged 'into dozy little +Lebanon by the Blue Mountains, where Toby had a cottage and a garden of +all fruits. He come north every year for this wonderful Seneca Oil the +Seneca Indians made for him. They'd never sell to any one else, and he +doctored 'em with von Swieten pills, which they valued more than their +own oil. He could do what he chose with them, and, of course, he tried +to make them Moravians. The Senecas are a seemly, quiet people, and +they'd had trouble enough from white men--American and English--during +the wars, to keep 'em in that walk. They lived on a Reservation by +themselves away off by their lake. Toby took me up there, and they +treated me as if I was their own blood brother. Red Jacket said the mark +of my bare feet in the dust was just like an Indian's and my style of +walking was similar. I know I took to their ways all over.' + +'Maybe the gipsy drop in your blood helped you?' said Puck. + +'Sometimes I think it did,' Pharaoh went on. 'Anyhow, Red Jacket and +Cornplanter, the other Seneca chief, they let me be adopted into the +tribe. It's only a compliment, of course, but Toby was angry when I +showed up with my face painted. They gave me a side-name which means +"Two Tongues," because, d'ye see, I talked French and English. + +'They had their own opinions (I've heard 'em) about the French and the +English, and the Americans. They'd suffered from all of 'em during the +wars, and they only wished to be left alone. But they thought a heap of +the President of the United States. Cornplanter had had dealings with +him in some French wars out West when General Washington was only a lad. +His being President afterwards made no odds to 'em. They always called +him Big Hand, for he was a large-fisted man, and he was all of their +notion of a white chief. Cornplanter 'ud sweep his blanket round him, +and after I'd filled his pipe he'd begin--"In the old days, long ago, +when braves were many and blankets were few, Big Hand said-" If Red +Jacket agreed to the say-so he'd trickle a little smoke out of the +corners of his mouth. If he didn't, he'd blow through his nostrils. +Then Cornplanter 'ud stop and Red Jacket 'ud take on. Red Jacket was the +better talker of the two. I've laid and listened to 'em for hours. +Oh! they knew General Washington well. Cornplanter used to meet him at +Epply's--the great dancing-place in the city before District Marshal +William Nichols bought it. They told me he was always glad to see 'em, +and he'd hear 'em out to the end if they had anything on their minds. +They had a good deal in those days. I came at it by degrees, after I was +adopted into the tribe. The talk up in Lebanon and everywhere else that +summer was about the French war with England and whether the United +States 'ud join in with France or make a peace treaty with England. Toby +wanted peace so as he could go about the Reservation buying his oils. +But most of the white men wished for war, and they was angry because +the President wouldn't give the sign for it. The newspaper said men was +burning Guy Fawkes images of General Washington and yelling after him in +the streets of Philadelphia. You'd have been astonished what those two +fine old chiefs knew of the ins and outs of such matters. The little +I've learned of politics I picked up from Cornplanter and Red Jacket +on the Reservation. Toby used to read the Aurora newspaper. He was +what they call a "Democrat," though our Church is against the Brethren +concerning themselves with politics.' + +'I hate politics, too,' said Una, and Pharaoh laughed. + +'I might ha' guessed it,' he said. 'But here's something that isn't +politics. One hot evening late in August, Toby was reading the newspaper +on the stoop and Red Jacket was smoking under a peach tree and I was +fiddling. Of a sudden Toby drops his Aurora. + +'"I am an oldish man, too fond of my own comforts," he says. "I will +go to the Church which is in Philadelphia. My brother, lend me a spare +pony. I must be there tomorrow night." + +'"Good!" says Red Jacket, looking at the sun. "My brother shall be +there. I will ride with him and bring back the ponies." + +'I went to pack the saddle-bags. Toby had cured me of asking questions. +He stopped my fiddling if I did. Besides, Indians don't ask questions +much and I wanted to be like 'em. + +'When the horses were ready I jumped up. + +'"Get off," says Toby. "Stay and mind the cottage till I come back. The +Lord has laid this on me, not on you. I wish He hadn't." + +'He powders off down the Lancaster road, and I sat on the doorstep +wondering after him. When I picked up the paper to wrap his +fiddle-strings in, I spelled out a piece about the yellow fever being in +Philadelphia so dreadful every one was running away. I was scared, for +I was fond of Toby. We never said much to each other, but we fiddled +together, and music's as good as talking to them that understand.' + +'Did Toby die of yellow fever?'Una asked. + +'Not him! There's justice left in the world still. He went down to the +City and bled 'em well again in heaps. He sent back word by Red Jacket +that, if there was war or he died, I was to bring the oils along to the +City, but till then I was to go on working in the garden and Red Jacket +was to see me do it. Down at heart all Indians reckon digging a squaw's +business, and neither him nor Cornplanter, when he relieved watch, was +a hard task-Master. We hired a nigger-boy to do our work, and a lazy +grinning runagate he was. When I found Toby didn't die the minute he +reached town, why, boylike, I took him off my mind and went with my +Indians again. Oh! those days up north at Canasedago, running races and +gambling with the Senecas, or bee-hunting 'in the woods, or fishing in +the lake.' Pharaoh sighed and looked across the water. 'But it's best,' +he went on suddenly, 'after the first frosts. You roll out o' your +blanket and find every leaf left green over night turned red and yellow, +not by trees at a time, but hundreds and hundreds of miles of 'em, like +sunsets splattered upside down. On one of such days--the maples was +flaming scarlet and gold, and the sumach bushes were redder--Cornplanter +and Red Jacket came out in full war-dress, making the very leaves look +silly: feathered war-bonnets, yellow doeskin leggings, fringed and +tasselled, red horse-blankets, and their bridles feathered and shelled +and beaded no bounds. I thought it was war against the British till I +saw their faces weren't painted, and they only carried wrist-whips. Then +I hummed "Yankee Doodle" at 'em. They told me they was going to visit +Big Hand and find out for sure whether he meant to join the French in +fighting the English or make a peace treaty with England. I reckon those +two would ha' gone out on the war-path at a nod from Big Hand, but they +knew well, if there was war 'twixt England and the United States, their +tribe 'ud catch it from both parties same as in all the other wars. They +asked me to come along and hold the ponies. That puzzled me, because +they always put their ponies up at the "Buck" or Epply's when they went +to see General Washington in the city, and horse-holding is a nigger's +job. Besides, I wasn't exactly dressed for it.' + +'D'you mean you were dressed like an Indian?'Dan demanded. + +Pharaoh looked a little abashed. 'This didn't happen at Lebanon,' +he said, 'but a bit farther north, on the Reservation; and at that +particular moment of time, so far as blanket, hair-band, moccasins, and +sunburn went, there wasn't much odds 'twix' me and a young Seneca buck. +You may laugh'--he smoothed down his long-skirted brown coat--'but I +told you I took to their ways all over. I said nothing, though I was +bursting to let out the war-whoop like the young men had taught me.' + +'No, and you don't let out one here, either,' said Puck before Dan could +ask. 'Go on, Brother Square-toes.' + +'We went on.' Pharaoh's narrow dark eyes gleamed and danced. 'We went +on--forty, fifty miles a day, for days on end--we three braves. And how +a great tall Indian a-horse-back can carry his war-bonnet at a canter +through thick timber without brushing a feather beats me! My silly head +was banged often enough by low branches, but they slipped through like +running elk. We had evening hymn-singing every night after they'd blown +their pipe-smoke to the quarters of heaven. Where did we go? I'll tell +you, but don't blame me if you're no wiser. We took the old war-trail +from the end of the Lake along the East Susquehanna through the Nantego +country, right down to Fort Shamokin on the Senachse river. We crossed +the Juniata by Fort Granville, got into Shippensberg over the hills by +the Ochwick trail, and then to Williams Ferry (it's a bad one). From +Williams Ferry, across the Shanedore, over the Blue Mountains, through +Ashby's Gap, and so south-east by south from there, till we found the +President at the back of his own plantations. I'd hate to be trailed by +Indians in earnest. They caught him like a partridge on a stump. After +we'd left our ponies, we scouted forward through a woody piece, and, +creeping slower and slower, at last if my moccasins even slipped +Red Jacket 'ud turn and frown. I heard voices--Monsieur Genet's for +choice--long before I saw anything, and we pulled up at the edge of +a clearing where some niggers in grey-and-red liveries were holding +horses, and half-a-dozen gentlemen--but one was Genet--were talking +among felled timber. I fancy they'd come to see Genet a piece on his +road, for his portmantle was with him. I hid in between two logs as near +to the company as I be to that old windlass there. I didn't need anybody +to show me Big Hand. He stood up, very still, his legs a little apart, +listening to Genet, that French Ambassador, which never had more manners +than a Bosham tinker. Genet was as good as ordering him to declare war +on England at once. I had heard that clack before on the Embuscade. +He said he'd stir up the whole United States to have war with England, +whether Big Hand liked it or not. + +'Big Hand heard him out to the last end. I looked behind me, and my two +chiefs had vanished like smoke. Says Big Hand, "That is very forcibly +put, Monsieur Genet--" + +'"Citizen--citizen!" the fellow spits in. "I, at least, am a +Republican!" + +"Citizen Genet," he says, "you may be sure it will receive my fullest +consideration." This seemed to take Citizen Genet back a piece. He rode +off grumbling, and never gave his nigger a penny. No gentleman! + +'The others all assembled round Big Hand then, and, in their way, they +said pretty much what Genet had said. They put it to him, here was +France and England at war, in a manner of speaking, right across the +United States' stomach, and paying no regards to any one. The French +was searching American ships on pretence they was helping England, but +really for to steal the goods. The English was doing the same, only +t'other way round, and besides searching, they was pressing American +citizens into their Navy to help them fight France, on pretence that +those Americans was lawful British subjects. His gentlemen put this +very clear to Big Hand. It didn't look to them, they said, as though the +United States trying to keep out of the fight was any advantage to her, +because she only catched it from both French and English. They said that +nine out of ten good Americans was crazy to fight the English then and +there. They wouldn't say whether that was right or wrong; they only +wanted Big Hand to turn it over in his mind. He did--for a while. I +saw Red Jacket and Cornplanter watching him from the far side of the +clearing, and how they had slipped round there was another mystery. Then +Big Hand drew himself up, and he let his gentlemen have it.' + +'Hit 'em?' Dan asked. + +'No, nor yet was it what you might call swearing. He--he blasted 'em +with his natural speech. He asked them half-a-dozen times over whether +the United States had enough armed ships for any shape or sort of war +with any one. He asked 'em, if they thought she had those ships, to give +him those ships, and they looked on the ground, as if they expected to +find 'em there. He put it to 'em whether, setting ships aside, their +country--I reckon he gave 'em good reasons--whether the United States +was ready or able to face a new big war; she having but so few years +back wound up one against England, and being all holds full of her own +troubles. As I said, the strong way he laid it all before 'em blasted +'em, and when he'd done it was like a still in the woods after a storm. +A little man--but they all looked little--pipes up like a young rook +in a blowed-down nest, "Nevertheless, General, it seems you will be +compelled to fight England." Quick Big Hand wheeled on him, "And is +there anything in my past which makes you think I am averse to fighting +Great Britain?" + +'Everybody laughed except him. "Oh, General, you mistake us entirely!" +they says. "I trust so," he says. "But I know my duty. We must have +peace with England." + +'"At any price?" says the man with the rook's voice. + +'"At any price," says he, word by word. "Our ships will be searched--our +citizens will be pressed, but--" + +'"Then what about the Declaration of Independence?" says one. + +'"Deal with facts, not fancies," says Big Hand. "The United States are +in no position to fight England." + +'"But think of public opinion," another one starts up. "The feeling in +Philadelphia alone is at fever heat." + +'He held up one of his big hands. "Gentlemen," he says--slow he spoke, +but his voice carried far--"I have to think of our country. Let me +assure you that the treaty with Great Britain will be made though every +city in the Union burn me in effigy." + +'"At any price?" the actor-like chap keeps on croaking. + +'"The treaty must be made on Great Britain's own terms. What else can I +do?" 'He turns his back on 'em and they looked at each other and slinked +off to the horses, leaving him alone: and then I saw he was an old man. +Then Red Jacket and Cornplanter rode down the clearing from the far end +as though they had just chanced along. Back went Big Hand's shoulders, +up went his head, and he stepped forward one single pace with a great +deep Hough! so pleased he was. That was a statelified meeting to +behold--three big men, and two of 'em looking like jewelled images among +the spattle of gay-coloured leaves. I saw my chiefs' war-bonnets sinking +together, down and down. Then they made the sign which no Indian makes +outside of the Medicine Lodges--a sweep of the right hand just clear +of the dust and an inbend of the left knee at the same time, and those +proud eagle feathers almost touched his boot-top.' + +'What did it mean?' said Dan. + +'Mean!' Pharaoh cried. 'Why it's what you--what we--it's the Sachems' +way of sprinkling the sacred corn-meal in front of--oh! it's a piece +of Indian compliment really, and it signifies that you are a very big +chief. + +'Big Hand looked down on 'em. First he says quite softly, "My brothers +know it is not easy to be a chief." Then his voice grew. "My children," +says he, "what is in your minds?" + +'Says Cornplanter, "We came to ask whether there will be war with King +George's men, but we have heard what our Father has said to his chiefs. +We will carry away that talk in our hearts to tell to our people." + +'"No," says Big Hand. "Leave all that talk behind--it was between white +men only--but take this message from me to your people--'There will be +no war.'" + +'His gentlemen were waiting, so they didn't delay him-, only Cornplanter +says, using his old side-name, "Big Hand, did you see us among the +timber just now?" + +'"Surely," says he. "You taught me to look behind trees when we were +both young." And with that he cantered off. + +'Neither of my chiefs spoke till we were back on our ponies again and a +half-hour along the home-trail. Then Cornplanter says to Red Jacket, "We +will have the Corn-dance this year. There will be no war." And that was +all there was to it.' + +Pharaoh stood up as though he had finished. + +'Yes,' said Puck, rising too. 'And what came out of it in the long run?' + +'Let me get at my story my own way,'was the answer. 'Look! it's later +than I thought. That Shoreham smack's thinking of her supper.' The +children looked across the darkening Channel. A smack had hoisted a +lantern and slowly moved west where Brighton pier lights ran out in a +twinkling line. When they turned round The Gap was empty behind them. + +'I expect they've packed our trunks by now,' said Dan. 'This time +tomorrow we'll be home.' + + + + +IF-- + + If you can keep your head when all about you + Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; + If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, + But make allowance for their doubting too; + If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, + Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, + Or being hated, don't give way to hating, + And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; + + If you can dream--and not make dreams your master; + If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim, + If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster + And treat those two impostors just the same; + If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken + Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, + Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, + And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools; + + If you can make one heap of all your winnings + And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, + And lose, and start again at your beginnings + And never breathe a word about your loss; + If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew + To serve your turn long after they are gone, + And so hold on when there is nothing in you + Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' + + If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, + Or walk with Kings--nor lose the common touch, + If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, + If all men count with you, but none too much; + If you can fill the unforgiving minute + With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, + Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, + And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! + + + + +'A PRIEST IN SPITE OF HIMSELF' + + + + +A St Helena Lullaby + + + How far is St Helena from a little child at play? + What makes you want to wander there with all the world between? + Oh, Mother, call your son again or else he'll run away. + (No one thinks of winter when the grass is green!) + + How far is St Helena from a fight in Paris street? + I haven't time to answer now--the men are falling fast. + The guns begin to thunder, and the drums begin to beat + (If you take the first step you will take the last!) + + How far is St Helena from the field at Austerlitz? + You couldn't hear me if I told--so loud the cannons roar. + But not so far for people who are living by their wits. + ('Gay go up' means 'gay go down' the wide world o'er!) + + How far is St Helena from an Emperor of France? + I cannot see--I cannot tell--the crowns they dazzle so. + The Kings sit down to dinner, and the Queens stand up to dance. + (After open weather you may look for snow!) + + How far is St Helena from the Capes of Trafalgar? + A longish way--a longish way--with ten year more to run. + It's South across the water underneath a setting star. + (What you cannot finish you must leave undone!) + + How far is St Helena from the Beresina ice? + An ill way--a chill way--the ice begins to crack. + But not so far for gentlemen who never took advice. + (When you can't go forward you must e'en come back!) + + How far is St Helena from the field of Waterloo? + A near way--a clear way--the ship will take you soon. + A pleasant place for gentlemen with little left to do. + (Morning never tries you till the afternoon!) + + How far from St Helena to the Gate of Heaven's Grace? + That no one knows--that no one knows--and no one ever will. + But fold your hands across your heart and cover up your face, + And after all your trapesings, child, lie still! + + + + +'A Priest in Spite of Himself' + + +The day after they came home from the sea-side they set out on a tour +of inspection to make sure everything was as they had left it. Soon they +discovered that old Hobden had blocked their best hedge-gaps with stakes +and thorn-bundles, and had trimmed up the hedges where the blackberries +were setting. + +'It can't be time for the gipsies to come along,' said Una. 'Why, it was +summer only the other day!' + +'There's smoke in Low Shaw!' said Dan, sniffing. 'Let's make sure!' + +They crossed the fields towards the thin line of blue smoke that leaned +above the hollow of Low Shaw which lies beside the King's Hill road. +It used to be an old quarry till somebody planted it, and you can look +straight down into it from the edge of Banky Meadow. + +'I thought so,' Dan whispered, as they came up to the fence at the edge +of the larches. A gipsy-van--not the show-man's sort, but the old black +kind, with little windows high up and a baby-gate across the door--was +getting ready to leave. A man was harnessing the horses; an old woman +crouched over the ashes of a fire made out of broken fence-rails; and a +girl sat on the van-steps singing to a baby on her lap. A wise-looking, +thin dog snuffed at a patch of fur on the ground till the old woman put +it carefully in the middle of the fire. The girl reached back inside the +van and tossed her a paper parcel. This was laid on the fire too, and +they smelt singed feathers. + +'Chicken feathers!' said Dan. 'I wonder if they are old Hobden's.' + +Una sneezed. The dog growled and crawled to the girl's feet, the old +woman fanned the fire with her hat, while the man led the horses up to +the shafts, They all moved as quickly and quietly as snakes over moss. + +'Ah!' said the girl. 'I'll teach you!' She beat the dog, who seemed to +expect it. + +'Don't do that,' Una called down. 'It wasn't his fault.' + +'How do you know what I'm beating him for?' she answered. + +'For not seeing us,' said Dan. 'He was standing right in the smoke, and +the wind was wrong for his nose, anyhow.' + +The girl stopped beating the dog, and the old woman fanned faster than +ever. + +'You've fanned some of your feathers out of the fire,' said Una. +'There's a tail-feather by that chestnut-tot.' + +'What of it?' said the old woman, as she grabbed it. + +'Oh, nothing!' said Dan. 'Only I've heard say that tail-feathers are as +bad as the whole bird, sometimes.' + +That was a saying of Hobden's about pheasants. Old Hobden always burned +all feather and fur before he sat down to eat. + +'Come on, mother,' the man whispered. The old woman climbed into the +van, and the horses drew it out of the deep-rutted shaw on to the hard +road. + +The girl waved her hands and shouted something they could not catch. + +'That was gipsy for "Thank you kindly, Brother and Sister,"' said +Pharaoh Lee. + +He was standing behind them, his fiddle under his arm. 'Gracious, you +startled me!' said Una. + +'You startled old Priscilla Savile,' Puck called from below them. 'Come +and sit by their fire. She ought to have put it out before they left.' + +They dropped down the ferny side of the shaw. Una raked the ashes +together, Dan found a dead wormy oak branch that burns without flame, +and they watched the smoke while Pharaoh played a curious wavery air. + +'That's what the girl was humming to the baby,' said Una. + +'I know it,'he nodded, and went on: + + 'Ai Lumai, Lumai, Lumai! Luludia! + Ai Luludia!' + + +He passed from one odd tune to another, and quite forgot the children. +At last Puck asked him to go on with his adventures in Philadelphia and +among the Seneca Indians. + +'I'm telling it,' he said, staring straight in front of him as he +played. 'Can't you hear?' + +'Maybe, but they can't. Tell it aloud,' said Puck. + +Pharaoh shook himself, laid his fiddle beside him, and began: + +'I'd left Red Jacket and Cornplanter riding home with me after Big Hand +had said that there wouldn't be any war. That's all there was to it. +We believed Big Hand and we went home again--we three braves. When we +reached Lebanon we found Toby at the cottage with his waistcoat a foot +too big for him--so hard he had worked amongst the yellow-fever people. +He beat me for running off with the Indians, but 'twas worth it--I was +glad to see him,--and when we went back to Philadelphia for the winter, +and I was told how he'd sacrificed himself over sick people in the +yellow fever, I thought the world and all of him. No, I didn't neither. +I'd thought that all along. That yellow fever must have been something +dreadful. Even in December people had no more than begun to trinkle back +to town. Whole houses stood empty and the niggers was robbing them out. +But I can't call to mind that any of the Moravian Brethren had died. It +seemed like they had just kept on with their own concerns, and the good +Lord He'd just looked after 'em. That was the winter--yes, winter of +'Ninety-three--the Brethren bought a stove for the church. Toby spoke in +favour of it because the cold spoiled his fiddle hand, but many thought +stove-heat not in the Bible, and there was yet a third party which +always brought hickory coal foot-warmers to service and wouldn't +speak either way. They ended by casting the Lot for it, which is like +pitch-and-toss. After my summer with the Senecas, church-stoves didn't +highly interest me, so I took to haunting round among the French emigres +which Philadelphia was full of. My French and my fiddling helped me +there, d'ye see. They come over in shiploads from France, where, by what +I made out, every one was killing every one else by any means, and they +spread 'emselves about the city--mostly in Drinker's Alley and Elfrith's +Alley--and they did odd jobs till times should mend. But whatever they +stooped to, they were gentry and kept a cheerful countenance, and after +an evening's fiddling at one of their poor little proud parties, the +Brethren seemed old-fashioned. Pastor Meder and Brother Adam Goos didn't +like my fiddling for hire, but Toby said it was lawful in me to earn my +living by exercising my talents. He never let me be put upon. + +'In February of 'Ninety-four--No, March it must have been, because a +new Ambassador called Faucher had come from France, with no more +manners than Genet the old one--in March, Red Jacket came in from the +Reservation bringing news of all kind friends there. I showed him round +the city, and we saw General Washington riding through a crowd of folk +that shouted for war with England. They gave him quite rough music, +but he looked 'twixt his horse's ears and made out not to notice. His +stirrup brished Red Jacket's elbow, and Red Jacket whispered up, "My +brother knows it is not easy to be a chief." Big Hand shot just one look +at him and nodded. Then there was a scuffle behind us over some one who +wasn't hooting at Washington loud enough to please the people. We went +away to be out of the fight. Indians won't risk being hit.' + +'What do they do if they are?' Dan asked. + +'Kill, of course. That's why they have such proper manners. Well, +then, coming home by Drinker's Alley to get a new shirt which a French +Vicomte's lady was washing to take the stiff out of (I'm always choice +in my body-linen) a lame Frenchman pushes a paper of buttons at us. He +hadn't long landed in the United States, and please would we buy. He +sure-ly was a pitiful scrattel--his coat half torn off, his face cut, +but his hands steady; so I knew it wasn't drink. He said his name +was Peringuey, and he'd been knocked about in the crowd round the +Stadt--Independence Hall. One thing leading to another we took him up +to Toby's rooms, same as Red Jacket had taken me the year before. The +compliments he paid to Toby's Madeira wine fairly conquered the old man, +for he opened a second bottle and he told this Monsieur Peringuey all +about our great stove dispute in the church. I remember Pastor Meder and +Brother Adam Goos dropped 'in, and although they and Toby were direct +opposite sides regarding stoves, yet this Monsieur Peringuey he made 'em +feel as if he thought each one was in the right of it. He said he had +been a clergyman before he had to leave France. He admired at Toby's +fiddling, and he asked if Red Jacket, sitting by the spinet, was a +simple Huron. Senecas aren't Hurons, they're Iroquois, of course, and +Toby told him so. Well, then, in due time he arose and left in a style +which made us feel he'd been favouring us, instead of us feeding him. +I've never seen that so strong before--in a man. We all talked him over +but couldn't make head or tail of him, and Red Jacket come out to walk +with me to the French quarter where I was due to fiddle at a party. +Passing Drinker's Alley again we saw a naked window with a light in it, +and there sat our button-selling Monsieur Peringuey throwing dice all +alone, right hand against left. + +'Says Red Jacket, keeping back in the dark, "Look at his face!" + +'I was looking. I protest to you I wasn't frightened like I was when Big +Hand talked to his gentlemen. I--I only looked, and I wondered that +even those dead dumb dice 'ud dare to fall different from what that face +wished. It--it was a face! + +'"He is bad," says Red Jacket. "But he is a great chief. The French have +sent away a great chief. I thought so when he told us his lies. Now I +know." + +'I had to go on to the party, so I asked him to call round for me +afterwards and we'd have hymn-singing at Toby's as usual. "No," he says. +"Tell Toby I am not Christian tonight. All Indian." He had those fits +sometimes. I wanted to know more about Monsieur Peringuey, and the +emigre party was the very place to find out. It's neither here nor +there, of course, but those French emigre parties they almost make you +cry. The men that you bought fruit of in Market Street, the hairdressers +and fencing-masters and French teachers, they turn back again by +candlelight to what they used to be at home, and you catch their real +names. There wasn't much room in the washhouse, so I sat on top of the +copper and played 'em the tunes they called for--"Si le Roi m'avait +donne," and such nursery stuff. They cried sometimes. It hurt me to +take their money afterwards, indeed it did. And there I found out about +Monsieur Peringuey. He was a proper rogue too! None of 'em had a good +word for him except the Marquise that kept the French boarding-house on +Fourth Street. I made out that his real name was the Count Talleyrand de +Perigord--a priest right enough, but sorely come down in the world. He'd +been King Louis' Ambassador to England a year or two back, before the +French had cut off King Louis' head; and, by what I heard, that head +wasn't hardly more than hanging loose before he'd run back to Paris and +prevailed on Danton, the very man which did the murder, to send him back +to England again as Ambassador of the French Republic! That was too much +for the English, so they kicked him out by Act of Parliament, and he'd +fled to the Americas without money or friends or prospects. I'm telling +you the talk in the washhouse. Some of 'em was laughing over it. Says +the French Marquise, "My friends, you laugh too soon. That man 'll be on +the winning side before any of us." + +'"I did not know you were so fond of priests, Marquise," says the +Vicomte. His lady did my washing, as I've told you. + +'"I have my reasons," says the Marquise. "He sent my uncle and my two +brothers to Heaven by the little door,"--that was one of the emigre +names for the guillotine. "He will be on the winning side if it costs +him the blood of every friend he has in the world." + +'"Then what does he want here?" says one of 'em. "We have all lost our +game." + +'"My faith!" says the Marquise. "He will find out, if any one can, +whether this canaille of a Washington means to help us to fight England. +Genet" (that was my Ambassador in the Embuscade) "has failed and gone +off disgraced; Faucher" (he was the new man) "hasn't done any better, +but our Abbe will find out, and he will make his profit out of the news. +Such a man does not fall." + +'"He begins unluckily," says the Vicomte. "He was set upon today in the +street for not hooting your Washington." They all laughed again, and one +remarks, "How does the poor devil keep himself?" + +'He must have slipped in through the washhouse door, for he flits past +me and joins 'em, cold as ice. + +'"One does what one can," he says. "I sell buttons. And you, Marquise?" + +'"I?"--she waves her poor white hands all burned--"I am a cook--a very +bad one--at your service, Abbe. We were just talking about you." + +They didn't treat him like they talked of him. They backed off and stood +still. + +'"I have missed something, then," he says. "But I spent this last +hour playing--only for buttons, Marquise--against a noble savage, the +veritable Huron himself." + +'"You had your usual luck, I hope?" she says. + +'"Certainly," he says. "I cannot afford to lose even buttons in these +days." + +'"Then I suppose the child of nature does not know that your dice are +usually loaded, Father Tout-a-tous," she continues. I don't know +whether she meant to accuse him of cheating. He only bows. '"Not yet, +Mademoiselle Cunegonde," he says, and goes on to make himself agreeable +to the rest of the company. And that was how I found out our Monsieur +Peringuey was Count Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Perigord.' + +Pharaoh stopped, but the children said nothing. + +'You've heard of him?' said Pharaoh. + +Una shook her head. 'Was Red Jacket the Indian he played dice with?' Dan +asked. + +'He was. Red Jacket told me the next time we met. I asked if the lame +man had cheated. Red Jacket said no--he had played quite fair and was +a master player. I allow Red Jacket knew. I've seen him, on the +Reservation, play himself out of everything he had and in again. Then I +told Red Jacket all I'd heard at the party concerning Talleyrand. + +'"I was right," he says. "I saw the man's war-face when he thought he +was alone. That's why I played him. I played him face to face. He's a +great chief. Do they say why he comes here?" + +'"They say he comes to find out if Big Hand makes war against the +English," I said. + +'Red Jacket grunted. "Yes," he says. "He asked me that too. If he had +been a small chief I should have lied. But he is a great chief. He knew +I was a chief, so I told him the truth. I told him what Big Hand said to +Cornplanter and me in the clearing--'There will be no war.' I could not +see what he thought. I could not see behind his face. But he is a great +chief. He will believe." + +'"Will he believe that Big Hand can keep his people back from war?" I +said, thinking of the crowds that hooted Big Hand whenever he rode out. + +'"He is as bad as Big Hand is good, but he is not as strong as Big +Hand," says Red Jacket. "When he talks with Big Hand he will feel this +in his heart. The French have sent away a great chief. Presently he will +go back and make them afraid." + +'Now wasn't that comical? The French woman that knew him and owed all +her losses to him; the Indian that picked him up, cut and muddy on +the street, and played dice with him; they neither of 'em doubted that +Talleyrand was something by himself--appearances notwithstanding.' + +'And was he something by himself?' asked Una. + +Pharaoh began to laugh, but stopped. 'The way I look at it,'he said, +'Talleyrand was one of just three men in this world who are quite by +themselves. Big Hand I put first, because I've seen him.' 'Ay,' said +Puck. 'I'm sorry we lost him out of Old England. Who d'you put second?' + +'Talleyrand: maybe because I've seen him too,' said Pharaoh. + +'Who's third?'said Puck. + +'Boney--even though I've seen him.' + +'Whew!' said Puck. 'Every man has his own weights and measures, but +that's queer reckoning.' 'Boney?' said Una. 'You don't mean you've ever +met Napoleon Bonaparte?' + +'There, I knew you wouldn't have patience with the rest of my tale after +hearing that! But wait a minute. Talleyrand he come round to Hundred +and Eighteen in a day or two to thank Toby for his kindness. I didn't +mention the dice-playing, but I could see that Red Jacket's doings had +made Talleyrand highly curious about Indians--though he would call him +the Huron. Toby, as you may believe, was all holds full of knowledge +concerning their manners and habits. He only needed a listener. The +Brethren don't study Indians much till they join the Church, but Toby +knew 'em wild. So evening after evening Talleyrand crossed his sound leg +over his game one and Toby poured forth. Having been adopted into the +Senecas I, naturally, kept still, but Toby 'ud call on me to back up +some of his remarks, and by that means, and a habit he had of drawing +you on in talk, Talleyrand saw I knew something of his noble savages +too. Then he tried a trick. Coming back from an emigre party he turns +into his little shop and puts it to me, laughing like, that I'd gone +with the two chiefs on their visit to Big Hand. I hadn't told. Red +Jacket hadn't told, and Toby, of course, didn't know. 'Twas just +Talleyrand's guess. "Now," he says, "my English and Red Jacket's French +was so bad that I am not sure I got the rights of what the President +really said to the unsophisticated Huron. Do me the favour of telling it +again." I told him every word Red Jacket had told him and not one word +more. I had my suspicions, having just come from an emigre party where +the Marquise was hating and praising him as usual. + +'"Much obliged," he said. "But I couldn't gather from Red Jacket exactly +what the President said to Monsieur Genet, or to his American gentlemen +after Monsieur Genet had ridden away." + +'I saw Talleyrand was guessing again, for Red Jacket hadn't told him a +word about the white men's pow-wow.' + +'Why hadn't he?' Puck asked. + +'Because Red Jacket was a chief. He told Talleyrand what the President +had said to him and Cornplanter; but he didn't repeat the talk, between +the white men, that Big Hand ordered him to leave behind. 'Oh!' said +Puck. 'I see. What did you do?' + +'First I was going to make some sort of tale round it, but Talleyrand +was a chief too. So I said, "As soon as I get Red Jacket's permission +to tell that part of the tale, I'll be delighted to refresh your memory, +Abbe." What else could I have done? + +'"Is that all?" he says, laughing. "Let me refresh your memory. In a +month from now I can give you a hundred dollars for your account of the +conversation." + +'"Make it five hundred, Abbe," I says. '"Five, then," says he. + +'"That will suit me admirably," I says. "Red Jacket will be in town +again by then, and the moment he gives me leave I'll claim the money." + +'He had a hard fight to be civil, but he come out smiling. + +'"Monsieur," he says, "I beg your pardon as sincerely as I envy the +noble Huron your loyalty. Do me the honour to sit down while I explain." + +'There wasn't another chair, so I sat on the button-box. + +'He was a clever man. He had got hold of the gossip that the President +meant to make a peace treaty with England at any cost. He had found +out--from Genet, I reckon, who was with the President on the day the two +chiefs met him. He'd heard that Genet had had a huff with the President +and had ridden off leaving his business at loose ends. What he +wanted--what he begged and blustered to know--was just the very words +which the President had said to his gentlemen after Genet had left, +concerning the peace treaty with England. He put it to me that in +helping him to those very words I'd be helping three great countries as +well as mankind. The room was as bare as the palm of your hand, but I +couldn't laugh at him. + +'"I'm sorry," I says, when he wiped his forehead. "As soon as Red Jacket +gives permission--" + +'"You don't believe me, then?" he cuts in. '"Not one little, little +word, Abbe," I says; "except that you mean to be on the winning side. +Remember, I've been fiddling to all your old friends for months." + +'Well, then his temper fled him and he called me names. + +'"Wait a minute, ci-devant," I says at last. "I am half English and half +French, but I am not the half of a man. I will tell thee something the +Indian told me. Has thee seen the President?" + +'"Oh yes!" he sneers. "I had letters from the Lord Lansdowne to that +estimable old man." + +'"Then," I says, "thee will understand. The Red Skin said that when thee +has met the President thee will feel in thy heart he is a stronger man +than thee." + +'"Go!" he whispers. "Before I kill thee, go." + +'He looked like it. So I left him.' + +'Why did he want to know so badly?' said Dan. + +'The way I look at it is that if he had known for certain that +Washington meant to make the peace treaty with England at any price, +he'd ha' left old Faucher fumbling about in Philadelphia while he went +straight back to France and told old Danton--"It's no good your wasting +time and hopes on the United States, because she won't fight on our +side--that I've proof of!" Then Danton might have been grateful and +given Talleyrand a job, because a whole mass of things hang on knowing +for sure who's your friend and who's your enemy. Just think of us poor +shop-keepers, for instance.' + +'Did Red Jacket let you tell, when he came back?' Una asked. + +'Of course not. He said, "When Cornplanter and I ask you what Big Hand +said to the whites you can tell the Lame Chief. All that talk was left +behind in the timber, as Big Hand ordered. Tell the Lame Chief there +will be no war. He can go back to France with that word." + +'Talleyrand and me hadn't met for a long time except at emigre parties. +When I give him the message he just shook his head. He was sorting +buttons in the shop. + +'"I cannot return to France with nothing better than the word of an +unsophisticated savage," he says. + +'"Hasn't the President said anything to you?" I asked him. + +'"He has said everything that one in his position ought to say, but--but +if only I had what he said to his Cabinet after Genet rode off I believe +I could change Europe--the world, maybe." '"I'm sorry," I says. "Maybe +you'll do that without my help." + +'He looked at me hard. "Either you have unusual observation for one so +young, or you choose to be insolent," he says. + +'"It was intended for a compliment," I says. "But no odds. We're off in +a few days for our summer trip, and I've come to make my good-byes." + +'"I go on my travels too," he says. "If ever we meet again you may be +sure I will do my best to repay what I owe you." + +'"Without malice, Abbe, I hope," I says. + +'"None whatever," says he. "Give my respects to your adorable Dr +Pangloss" (that was one of his side-names for Toby) "and the Huron." I +never could teach him the difference betwixt Hurons and Senecas. + +'Then Sister Haga came in for a paper of what we call "pilly buttons," +and that was the last I saw of Talleyrand in those parts.' + +'But after that you met Napoleon, didn't you?' said Una. 'Wait Just +a little, dearie. After that, Toby and I went to Lebanon and the +Reservation, and, being older and knowing better how to manage him, +I enjoyed myself well that summer with fiddling and fun. When we came +back, the Brethren got after Toby because I wasn't learning any lawful +trade, and he had hard work to save me from being apprenticed to +Helmbold and Geyer the printers. 'Twould have ruined our music together, +indeed it would. And when we escaped that, old Mattes Roush, the +leather-breeches maker round the corner, took a notion I was cut out for +skin-dressing. But we were rescued. Along towards Christmas there comes +a big sealed letter from the Bank saying that a Monsieur Talleyrand had +put five hundred dollars--a hundred pounds--to my credit there to use as +I pleased. There was a little note from him inside--he didn't give any +address--to thank me for past kindnesses and my believing in his future, +which he said was pretty cloudy at the time of writing. I wished Toby to +share the money. I hadn't done more than bring Talleyrand up to Hundred +and Eighteen. The kindnesses were Toby's. But Toby said, "No! Liberty +and Independence for ever. I have all my wants, my son." So I gave him +a set of new fiddle-strings, and the Brethren didn't advise us any more. +Only Pastor Meder he preached about the deceitfulness of riches, and +Brother Adam Goos said if there was war the English 'ud surely shoot +down the Bank. I knew there wasn't going to be any war, but I drew the +money out and on Red Jacket's advice I put it into horse-flesh, which +I sold to Bob Bicknell for the Baltimore stage-coaches. That way, I +doubled my money inside the twelvemonth.' 'You gipsy! You proper gipsy!' +Puck shouted. + +'Why not? 'Twas fair buying and selling. Well, one thing leading to +another, in a few years I had made the beginning of a worldly fortune +and was in the tobacco trade.' + +'Ah!' said Puck, suddenly. 'Might I inquire if you'd ever sent any news +to your people in England--or in France?' + +'O' course I had. I wrote regular every three months after I'd made +money in the horse trade. We Lees don't like coming home empty-handed. +If it's only a turnip or an egg, it's something. Oh yes, I wrote good +and plenty to Uncle Aurette, and--Dad don't read very quickly--Uncle +used to slip over Newhaven way and tell Dad what was going on in the +tobacco trade.' + +'I see-- + + Aurettes and Lees-- + Like as two peas. + +Go on, Brother Square-toes,' said Puck. Pharaoh laughed and went on. + +'Talleyrand he'd gone up in the world same as me. He'd sailed to France +again, and was a great man in the Government there awhile, but they +had to turn him out on account of some story about bribes from American +shippers. All our poor emigres said he was surely finished this time, +but Red Jacket and me we didn't think it likely, not unless he was quite +dead. Big Hand had made his peace treaty with Great Britain, just as +he said he would, and there was a roaring trade 'twixt England and the +United States for such as 'ud take the risk of being searched by British +and French men-o'-war. Those two was fighting, and just as his gentlemen +told Big Hand 'ud happen--the United States was catching it from both. +If an English man-o'-war met an American ship he'd press half the best +men out of her, and swear they was British subjects. Most of 'em was! If +a Frenchman met her he'd, likely, have the cargo out of her, swearing +it was meant to aid and comfort the English; and if a Spaniard or a +Dutchman met her--they was hanging on to England's coat-tails too--Lord +only knows what they wouldn't do! It came over me that what I wanted in +my tobacco trade was a fast-sailing ship and a man who could be French, +English, or American at a pinch. Luckily I could lay my hands on both +articles. So along towards the end of September in the year 'Ninety-nine +I sailed from Philadelphia with a hundred and eleven hogshead o' good +Virginia tobacco, in the brig BERTHE AURETTE, named after Mother's +maiden name, hoping 'twould bring me luck, which she didn't--and yet she +did.' + +'Where was you bound for?' Puck asked. + +'Er--any port I found handiest. I didn't tell Toby or the Brethren. They +don't understand the ins and outs of the tobacco trade.' + +Puck coughed a small cough as he shifted a piece of wood with his bare +foot. + +'It's easy for you to sit and judge,' Pharaoh cried. 'But think o' what +we had to put up with! We spread our wings and run across the broad +Atlantic like a hen through a horse-fair. Even so, we was stopped by an +English frigate, three days out. He sent a boat alongside and pressed +seven able seamen. I remarked it was hard on honest traders, but the +officer said they was fighting all creation and hadn't time to argue. +The next English frigate we escaped with no more than a shot in our +quarter. Then we was chased two days and a night by a French privateer, +firing between squalls, and the dirty little English ten-gun brig which +made him sheer off had the impudence to press another five of our men. +That's how we reached to the chops of the Channel. Twelve good men +pressed out of thirty-five; an eighteen-pound shot-hole close beside our +rudder; our mainsail looking like spectacles where the Frenchman had +hit us--and the Channel crawling with short-handed British cruisers. +Put that in your pipe and smoke it next time you grumble at the price of +tobacco! + +'Well, then, to top it off, while we was trying to get at our leaks, a +French lugger come swooping at us out o' the dusk. We warned him to keep +away, but he fell aboard us, and up climbed his Jabbering red-caps. We +couldn't endure any more--indeed we couldn't. We went at 'em with all +we could lay hands on. It didn't last long. They was fifty odd to our +twenty-three. Pretty soon I heard the cutlasses thrown down and some one +bellowed for the sacri captain. + +'"Here I am!" I says. "I don't suppose it makes any odds to you thieves, +but this is the United States brig BERTHE AURETTE." + +'"My aunt!" the man says, laughing. "Why is she named that?" + +'"Who's speaking?" I said. 'Twas too dark to see, but I thought I knew +the voice. + +'"Enseigne de Vaisseau Estephe L'Estrange," he sings out, and then I was +sure. + +'"Oh!" I says. "It's all in the family, I suppose, but you have done a +fine day's work, Stephen." + +'He whips out the binnacle-light and holds it to my face. He was young +L'Estrange, my full cousin, that I hadn't seen since the night the smack +sank off Telscombe Tye--six years before. + +'"Whew!" he says. "That's why she was named for Aunt Berthe, is it? +What's your share in her, Pharaoh?" + +'"Only half owner, but the cargo's mine." + +'"That's bad," he says. "I'll do what I can, but you shouldn't have +fought us." '"Steve," I says, "you aren't ever going to report our +little fall-out as a fight! Why, a Revenue cutter 'ud laugh at it!" + +'"So'd I if I wasn't in the Republican Navy," he says. "But two of our +men are dead, d'ye see, and I'm afraid I'll have to take you +to the Prize Court at Le Havre." + +'"Will they condemn my 'baccy?" I asks. + +'"To the last ounce. But I was thinking more of the ship. She'd make a +sweet little craft for the Navy if the Prize Court 'ud let me have her," +he says. + +'Then I knew there was no hope. I don't blame him--a man must consider +his own interests, but nigh every dollar I had was in ship or cargo, and +Steve kept on saying, "You shouldn't have fought us." + +'Well, then, the lugger took us to Le Havre, and that being the one time +we did want a British ship to rescue us, why, o' course we never saw +one. My cousin spoke his best for us at the Prize Court. He owned he'd +no right to rush alongside in the face o' the United States flag, but +we couldn't get over those two men killed, d'ye see, and the Court +condemned both ship and cargo. They was kind enough not to make us +prisoners--only beggars--and young L'Estrange was given the BERTHE +AURETTE to re-arm into the French Navy. + +'"I'll take you round to Boulogne," he says. "Mother and the rest'll be +glad to see you, and you can slip over to Newhaven with Uncle Aurette. +Or you can ship with me, like most o' your men, and take a turn at King +George's loose trade. There's plenty pickings," he says. + +'Crazy as I was, I couldn't help laughing. + +'"I've had my allowance of pickings and stealings," I says. "Where are +they taking my tobacco?" 'Twas being loaded on to a barge. + +'"Up the Seine to be sold in Paris," he says. "Neither you nor I will +ever touch a penny of that money." + +'"Get me leave to go with it," I says. "I'll see if there's justice to +be gotten out of our American Ambassador." + +'"There's not much justice in this world," he says, "without a Navy." +But he got me leave to go with the barge and he gave me some money. That +tobacco was all I had, and I followed it like a hound follows a snatched +bone. Going up the river I fiddled a little to keep my spirits up, as +well as to make friends with the guard. They was only doing their duty. +Outside o' that they were the reasonablest o' God's creatures. They +never even laughed at me. So we come to Paris, by river, along in +November, which the French had christened Brumaire. They'd given new +names to all the months, and after such an outrageous silly piece o' +business as that, they wasn't likely to trouble 'emselves with my rights +and wrongs. They didn't. The barge was laid up below Notre Dame church +in charge of a caretaker, and he let me sleep aboard after I'd run about +all day from office to office, seeking justice and fair dealing, and +getting speeches concerning liberty. None heeded me. Looking back on it +I can't rightly blame 'em. I'd no money, my clothes was filthy mucked; +I hadn't changed my linen in weeks, and I'd no proof of my claims except +the ship's papers, which, they said, I might have stolen. The thieves! +The door-keeper to the American Ambassador--for I never saw even the +Secretary--he swore I spoke French a sight too well for an American +citizen. Worse than that--I had spent my money, d'ye see, and I--I took +to fiddling in the streets for my keep; and--and, a ship's captain with +a fiddle under his arm--well, I don't blame 'em that they didn't believe +me. + +'I come back to the barge one day--late in this month Brumaire it +was--fair beazled out. Old Maingon, the caretaker, he'd lit a fire in a +bucket and was grilling a herring. + +'"Courage, mon ami," he says. "Dinner is served." + +'"I can't eat," I says. "I can't do any more. It's stronger than I am." +'"Bah!" he says. "Nothing's stronger than a man. Me, for example! Less +than two years ago I was blown up in the Orient in Aboukir Bay, but +I descended again and hit the water like a fairy. Look at me now," he +says. He wasn't much to look at, for he'd only one leg and one eye, but +the cheerfullest soul that ever trod shoe-leather. "That's worse than a +hundred and eleven hogshead of 'baccy," he goes on. "You're young, too! +What wouldn't I give to be young in France at this hour! There's nothing +you couldn't do," he says. "The ball's at your feet--kick it!" he says. +He kicks the old fire-bucket with his peg-leg. "General Buonaparte, for +example!" he goes on. "That man's a babe compared to me, and see what +he's done already. He's conquered Egypt and Austria and Italy--oh! half +Europe!" he says, "and now he sails back to Paris, and he sails out +to St Cloud down the river here--don't stare at the river, you young +fool!---and all in front of these pig-jobbing lawyers and citizens he +makes himself Consul, which is as good as a King. He'll be King, too, +in the next three turns of the capstan--King of France, England, and the +world! Think o' that!" he shouts, "and eat your herring." + +'I says something about Boney. If he hadn't been fighting England I +shouldn't have lost my 'baccy--should I? + +'"Young fellow," says Maingon, "you don't understand." + +'We heard cheering. A carriage passed over the bridge with two in it. +'"That's the man himself," says Maingon. "He'll give 'em something to +cheer for soon." He stands at the salute. + +'"Who's t'other in black beside him?" I asks, fairly shaking all over. + +'"Ah! he's the clever one. You'll hear of him before long. He's that +scoundrel-bishop, Talleyrand." + +'"It is!" I said, and up the steps I went with my fiddle, and run after +the carriage calling, "Abbe, Abbe!" + +'A soldier knocked the wind out of me with the back of his sword, but I +had sense to keep on following till the carriage stopped--and there just +was a crowd round the house-door! I must have been half-crazy else I +wouldn't have struck up "Si le Roi m'avait donne Paris la grande ville!" +I thought it might remind him. + +'"That is a good omen!" he says to Boney sitting all hunched up; and he +looks straight at me. + +'"Abbe--oh, Abbe!" I says. "Don't you remember Toby and Hundred and +Eighteen Second Street?" + +'He said not a word. He just crooked his long white finger to the guard +at the door while the carriage steps were let down, and I skipped into +the house, and they slammed the door in the crowd's face. '"You go +there," says a soldier, and shoves me into an empty room, where I +catched my first breath since I'd left the barge. Presently I heard +plates rattling next door--there were only folding doors between--and a +cork drawn. "I tell you," some one shouts with his mouth full, "it was +all that sulky ass Sieyes' fault. Only my speech to the Five Hundred +saved the situation." + +'"Did it save your coat?" says Talleyrand. "I hear they tore it when +they threw you out. Don't gasconade to me. You may be in the road of +victory, but you aren't there yet." + +'Then I guessed t'other man was Boney. He stamped about and swore at +Talleyrand. + +'"You forget yourself, Consul," says Talleyrand, "or rather you remember +yourself--Corsican." + +'"Pig!" says Boney, and worse. + +'"Emperor!" says Talleyrand, but, the way he spoke, it sounded worst of +all. Some one must have backed against the folding doors, for they flew +open and showed me in the middle of the room. Boney whipped out his +pistol before I could stand up. + +"General," says Talleyrand to him, "this gentleman has a habit of +catching us canaille en deshabille. Put that thing down." + +'Boney laid it on the table, so I guessed which was master. Talleyrand +takes my hand--"Charmed to see you again, Candide," he says. "How is the +adorable Dr Pangloss and the noble Huron?" + +'"They were doing very well when I left," I said. "But I'm not." + +'"Do you sell buttons now?" he says, and fills me a glass of wine off +the table. + +'"Madeira," says he. "Not so good as some I have drunk." + +'"You mountebank!" Boney roars. "Turn that out." (He didn't even say +"man," but Talleyrand, being gentle born, just went on.) + +'"Pheasant is not so good as pork," he says. "You will find some at that +table if you will do me the honour to sit down. Pass him a clean plate, +General." And, as true as I'm here, Boney slid a plate along just like +a sulky child. He was a lanky-haired, yellow-skinned little man, as +nervous as a cat--and as dangerous. I could feel that. + +'"And now," said Talleyrand, crossing his game leg over his sound one, +"will you tell me your story?" 'I was in a fluster, but I told him +nearly everything from the time he left me the five hundred dollars in +Philadelphia, up to my losing ship and cargo at Le Havre. Boney began by +listening, but after a bit he dropped into his own thoughts and looked +at the crowd sideways through the front-room curtains. Talleyrand called +to him when I'd done. + +'"Eh? What we need now," says Boney, "is peace for the next three or +four years." + +'"Quite so," says Talleyrand. "Meantime I want the Consul's order to the +Prize Court at Le Havre to restore my friend here his ship." + +'"Nonsense!" says Boney. "Give away an oak-built brig of two hundred and +seven tons for sentiment? Certainly not! She must be armed into my Navy +with ten--no, fourteen twelve-pounders and two long fours. Is she strong +enough to bear a long twelve forward?" + +'Now I could ha' sworn he'd paid no heed to my talk, but that wonderful +head-piece of his seemingly skimmed off every word of it that was useful +to him. + +'"Ah, General!" says Talleyrand. "You are a magician--a magician without +morals. But the brig is undoubtedly American, and we don't want to +offend them more than we have." + +'"Need anybody talk about the affair?" he says. He didn't look at me, +but I knew what was in his mind--just cold murder because I worried him; +and he'd order it as easy as ordering his carriage. + +'"You can't stop 'em," I said. "There's twenty-two other men besides +me." I felt a little more 'ud set me screaming like a wired hare. + +'"Undoubtedly American," Talleyrand goes on. "You would gain +something if you returned the ship--with a message of fraternal +good-will--published in the MONITEUR" (that's a French paper like the +Philadelphia AURORA). + +'"A good idea!" Boney answers. "One could say much in a message." + +'"It might be useful," says Talleyrand. "Shall I have the message +prepared?" He wrote something in a little pocket ledger. + +'"Yes--for me to embellish this evening. The MONITEUR will publish it +tonight." + +'"Certainly. Sign, please," says Talleyrand, tearing the leaf out. + +'"But that's the order to return the brig," says Boney. "Is that +necessary? Why should I lose a good ship? Haven't I lost enough ships +already?" 'Talleyrand didn't answer any of those questions. Then Boney +sidled up to the table and jabs his pen into the ink. Then he shies at +the paper again: "My signature alone is useless," he says. "You must +have the other two Consuls as well. Sieyes and Roger Ducos must sign. We +must preserve the Laws." + +'"By the time my friend presents it," says Talleyrand, still looking out +of window, "only one signature will be necessary." + +'Boney smiles. "It's a swindle," says he, but he signed and pushed the +paper across. + +'"Give that to the President of the Prize Court at Le Havre," says +Talleyrand, "and he will give you back your ship. I will settle for the +cargo myself. You have told me how much it cost. What profit did you +expect to make on it?" + +'Well, then, as man to man, I was bound to warn him that I'd set out +to run it into England without troubling the Revenue, and so I couldn't +rightly set bounds to my profits.' + +'I guessed that all along,' said Puck. + + 'There was never a Lee to Warminghurst-- + That wasn't a smuggler last and first.' + +The children laughed. + +'It's comical enough now,' said Pharaoh. 'But I didn't laugh then. Says +Talleyrand after a minute, "I am a bad accountant and I have several +calculations on hand at present. Shall we say twice the cost of the +cargo?" + +'Say? I couldn't say a word. I sat choking and nodding like a China +image while he wrote an order to his secretary to pay me, I won't say +how much, because you wouldn't believe it. + +'"Oh! Bless you, Abbe! God bless you!" I got it out at last. + +'"Yes," he says, "I am a priest in spite of myself, but they call me +Bishop now. Take this for my episcopal blessing," and he hands me the +paper. + +'"He stole all that money from me," says Boney over my shoulder. "A Bank +of France is another of the things we must make. Are you mad?" he shouts +at Talleyrand. + +'"Quite," says Talleyrand, getting up. "But be calm. The disease will +never attack you. It is called gratitude. This gentleman found me in the +street and fed me when I was hungry." + +'"I see; and he has made a fine scene of it, and you have paid him, I +suppose. Meantime, France waits." + +'"Oh! poor France!" says Talleyrand. "Good-bye, Candide," he says to me. +"By the way," he says, "have you yet got Red Jacket's permission to +tell me what the President said to his Cabinet after Monsieur Genet rode +away?" + +'I couldn't speak, I could only shake my head, and Boney--so impatient +he was to go on with his doings--he ran at me and fair pushed me out of +the room. And that was all there was to it.' Pharaoh stood up and slid +his fiddle into one of his big skirt-pockets as though it were a dead +hare. + +'Oh! but we want to know lots and lots more,'said Dan. 'How you got +home--and what old Maingon said on the barge--and wasn't your cousin +surprised when he had to give back the BERTHE AURETTE, and--' + +'Tell us more about Toby!' cried Una. + +'Yes, and Red Jacket,' said Dan. + +'Won't you tell us any more?' they both pleaded. + +Puck kicked the oak branch on the fire, till it sent up a column of +smoke that made them sneeze. When they had finished the Shaw was empty +except for old Hobden stamping through the larches. + + +'They gipsies have took two,' he said. 'My black pullet and my liddle +gingy-speckled cockrel.' + +'I thought so,' said Dan, picking up one tail-feather that the old woman +had overlooked. + +'Which way did they go? Which way did the runagates go?' said Hobden. + +'Hobby!' said Una. 'Would you like it if we told Keeper Ridley all your +goings and comings?' + + + + +'Poor Honest Men' + + + Your jar of Virginny + Will cost you a guinea, + Which you reckon too much by five shilling or ten; + But light your churchwarden + And judge it accordin' + When I've told you the troubles of poor honest men. + + From the Capes of the Delaware, + As you are well aware, + We sail with tobacco for England--but then + Our own British cruisers, + They watch us come through, sirs, + And they press half a score of us poor honest men. + + Or if by quick sailing + (Thick weather prevailing) + We leave them behind (as we do now and then) + We are sure of a gun from + Each frigate we run from, + Which is often destruction to poor honest men! + + Broadsides the Atlantic + We tumble short-handed, + With shot-holes to plug and new canvas to bend, + And off the Azores, + Dutch, Dons and Monsieurs + Are waiting to terrify poor honest men! + + Napoleon's embargo + Is laid on all cargo + Which comfort or aid to King George may intend; + And since roll, twist and leaf, + Of all comforts is chief, + They try for to steal it from poor honest men! + + With no heart for fight, + We take refuge in flight, + But fire as we run, our retreat to defend, + Until our stern-chasers + Cut up her fore-braces, + And she flies off the wind from us poor honest men! + + Twix' the Forties and Fifties, + South-eastward the drift is, + And so, when we think we are making Land's End, + Alas, it is Ushant + With half the King's Navy, + Blockading French ports against poor honest men! + + But they may not quit station + (Which is our salvation), + So swiftly we stand to the Nor'ard again; + And finding the tail of + A homeward-bound convoy, + We slip past the Scillies like poor honest men. + + 'Twix' the Lizard and Dover, + We hand our stuff over, + Though I may not inform how we do it, nor when; + But a light on each quarter + Low down on the water + Is well understanded by poor honest men. + Even then we have dangers + From meddlesome strangers, + Who spy on our business and are not content + To take a smooth answer, + Except with a handspike... + And they say they are murdered by poor honest men! + + To be drowned or be shot + Is our natural lot, + Why should we, moreover, be hanged in the end-- + After all our great pains + For to dangle in chains, + As though we were smugglers, not poor honest men? + + + + +THE CONVERSION OF ST WILFRID + + + + +Eddi's Service + + + Eddi, priest of St Wilfrid + In the chapel at Manhood End, + Ordered a midnight service + For such as cared to attend. + But the Saxons were keeping Christmas, + And the night was stormy as well. + Nobody came to service + Though Eddi rang the bell. + + 'Wicked weather for walking,' + Said Eddi of Manhood End. + 'But I must go on with the service + For such as care to attend.' + The altar candles were lighted,-- + An old marsh donkey came, + Bold as a guest invited, + And stared at the guttering flame. + + The storm beat on at the windows, + The water splashed on the floor, + And a wet yoke-weary bullock + Pushed in through the open door. + 'How do I know what is greatest, + How do I know what is least? + That is My Father's business,' + Said Eddi, Wilfrid's priest. + + 'But, three are gathered together-- + Listen to me and attend. + I bring good news, my brethren!' + Said Eddi, of Manhood End. + And he told the Ox of a manger + And a stall in Bethlehem, + And he spoke to the Ass of a Rider + That rode to jerusalem. + + They steamed and dripped in the chancel, + They listened and never stirred, + While, just as though they were Bishops, + Eddi preached them The Word. + + Till the gale blew off on the marshes + And the windows showed the day, + And the Ox and the Ass together + Wheeled and clattered away. + + And when the Saxons mocked him, + Said Eddi of Manhood End, + 'I dare not shut His chapel + On such as care to attend.' + + + + +The Conversion of St Wilfrid + + +They had bought peppermints up at the village, and were coming home +past little St Barnabas' Church, when they saw Jimmy Kidbrooke, the +carpenter's baby, kicking at the churchyard gate, with a shaving in his +mouth and the tears running down his cheeks. + +Una pulled out the shaving and put in a peppermint. Jimmy said he was +looking for his grand-daddy--he never seemed to take much notice of his +father--so they went up between the old graves, under the leaf-dropping +limes, to the porch, where Jim trotted in, looked about the empty +Church, and screamed like a gate-hinge. + +Young Sam Kidbrooke's voice came from the bell-tower and made them jump. + +'Why, jimmy,'he called, 'what are you doin' here? Fetch him, Father!' + +Old Mr Kidbrooke stumped downstairs, jerked Jimmy on to his shoulder, +stared at the children beneath his brass spectacles, and stumped back +again. They laughed: it was so exactly like Mr Kidbrooke. + +'It's all right,' Una called up the stairs. 'We found him, Sam. Does his +mother know?' + +'He's come off by himself. She'll be justabout crazy,' Sam answered. + +'Then I'll run down street and tell her.' Una darted off. + +'Thank you, Miss Una. Would you like to see how we're mendin' the +bell-beams, Mus' Dan?' + +Dan hopped up, and saw young Sam lying on his stomach in a most +delightful place among beams and ropes, close to the five great bells. +Old Mr Kidbrooke on the floor beneath was planing a piece of wood, and +Jimmy was eating the shavings as fast as they came away. He never looked +at Jimmy; Jimmy never stopped eating; and the broad gilt-bobbed pendulum +of the church clock never stopped swinging across the white-washed wall +of the tower. + +Dan winked through the sawdust that fell on his upturned face. 'Ring a +bell,' he called. + +'I mustn't do that, but I'll buzz one of 'em a bit for you,' said Sam. +He pounded on the sound-bow of the biggest bell, and waked a hollow +groaning boom that ran up and down the tower like creepy feelings down +your back. Just when it almost began to hurt, it died away in a hurry of +beautiful sorrowful cries, like a wine-glass rubbed with a wet finger. +The pendulum clanked--one loud clank to each silent swing. + +Dan heard Una return from Mrs Kidbrooke's, and ran down to fetch her. +She was standing by the font staring at some one who kneeled at the +Altar-rail. + +'Is that the Lady who practises the organ?' she whispered. + +'No. She's gone into the organ-place. Besides, she wears black,' Dan +replied. + +The figure rose and came down the nave. It was a white-haired man in +a long white gown with a sort of scarf looped low on the neck, one end +hanging over his shoulder. His loose long sleeves were embroidered with +gold, and a deep strip of gold embroidery waved and sparkled round the +hem of his gown. + +'Go and meet him,' said Puck's voice behind the font. 'It's only +Wilfrid.' + +'Wilfrid who?' said Dan. 'You come along too.' + +'Wilfrid--Saint of Sussex, and Archbishop of York. I shall wait till +he asks me.' He waved them forward. Their feet squeaked on the old +grave-slabs in the centre aisle. The Archbishop raised one hand with a +pink ring on it, and said something in Latin. He was very handsome, and +his thin face looked almost as silvery as his thin circle of hair. + +'Are you alone?' he asked. + +'Puck's here, of course,' said Una. 'Do you know him?' + +'I know him better now than I used to.' He beckoned over Dan's shoulder, +and spoke again in Latin. Puck pattered forward, holding himself as +straight as an arrow. The Archbishop smiled. + +'Be welcome,' said he. 'Be very welcome.' + +'Welcome to you also, O Prince of the church,' Puck replied. + +The Archbishop bowed his head and passed on, till he glimmered like a +white moth in the shadow by the font. + +'He does look awfully princely,' said Una. 'Isn't he coming back?' + +'Oh yes. He's only looking over the church. He's very fond of churches,' +said Puck. 'What's that?' + +The Lady who practices the organ was speaking to the blower-boy behind +the organ-screen. 'We can't very well talk here,' Puck whispered. 'Let's +go to Panama Corner.' + +He led them to the end of the south aisle, where there is a slab of iron +which says in queer, long-tailed letters: ORATE P. ANNEMA JHONE COLINE. +The children always called it Panama Corner. + +The Archbishop moved slowly about the little church, peering at the old +memorial tablets and the new glass windows. The Lady who practises the +organ began to pull out stops and rustle hymn-books behind the screen. + +'I hope she'll do all the soft lacey tunes--like treacle on porridge,' +said Una. + +'I like the trumpety ones best,' said Dan. 'Oh, look at Wilfrid! He's +trying to shut the Altar-gates!' + +'Tell him he mustn't,' said Puck, quite seriously. + +He can't, anyhow,' Dan muttered, and tiptoed out of Panama Corner while +the Archbishop patted and patted at the carved gates that always sprang +open again beneath his hand. + +'That's no use, sir,' Dan whispered. 'Old Mr Kidbrooke says Altar-gates +are just the one pair of gates which no man can shut. He made 'em so +himself.' + +The Archbishop's blue eyes twinkled. Dan saw that he knew all about it. + +'I beg your pardon,' Dan stammered--very angry with Puck. + +'Yes, I know! He made them so Himself.' The Archbishop smiled, and +crossed to Panama Corner, where Una dragged up a certain padded +arm-chair for him to sit on. + +The organ played softly. 'What does that music say?'he asked. + +Una dropped into the chant without thinking: '"O all ye works of the +Lord, bless ye the Lord; praise him and magnify him for ever." We call +it the Noah's Ark, because it's all lists of things--beasts and birds +and whales, you know.' + +'Whales?' said the Archbishop quickly. + +'Yes--"O ye whales, and all that move in the waters,"' Una +hummed--'"Bless ye the Lord." It sounds like a wave turning over, +doesn't it?' + +'Holy Father,' said Puck with a demure face, 'is a little seal also "one +who moves in the water"?' + +'Eh? Oh yes--yess!' he laughed. 'A seal moves wonderfully in the waters. +Do the seal come to my island still?' + +Puck shook his head. 'All those little islands have been swept away.' + +'Very possible. The tides ran fiercely down there. Do you know the land +of the Sea-calf, maiden?' + +'No--but we've seen seals--at Brighton.' + +'The Archbishop is thinking of a little farther down the coast. He means +Seal's Eye--Selsey--down Chichester way--where he converted the South +Saxons,' Puck explained. + +'Yes--yess; if the South Saxons did not convert me,' said the +Archbishop, smiling. 'The first time I was wrecked was on that coast. As +our ship took ground and we tried to push her off, an old fat fellow of +a seal, I remember, reared breast-high out of the water, and scratched +his head with his flipper as if he were saying: "What does that excited +person with the pole think he is doing." I was very wet and miserable, +but I could not help laughing, till the natives came down and attacked +us.' + +'What did you do?' Dan asked. + +'One couldn't very well go back to France, so one tried to make them go +back to the shore. All the South Saxons are born wreckers, like my own +Northumbrian folk. I was bringing over a few things for my old church at +York, and some of the natives laid hands on them, and--and I'm afraid I +lost my temper.' + +'It is said--' Puck's voice was wickedly meek--'that there was a great +fight.' + +Eh, but I must ha' been a silly lad.' Wilfrid spoke with a sudden thick +burr in his voice. He coughed, and took up his silvery tones again. +'There was no fight really. My men thumped a few of them, but the tide +rose half an hour before its time, with a strong wind, and we backed +off. What I wanted to say, though, was, that the seas about us were full +of sleek seals watching the scuffle. My good Eddi--my chaplain--insisted +that they were demons. Yes--yess! That was my first acquaintance with +the South Saxons and their seals.' + +'But not the only time you were wrecked, was it?' said Dan. + +'Alas, no! On sea and land my life seems to have been one long +shipwreck.' He looked at the Jhone Coline slab as old Hobden sometimes +looks into the fire. 'Ah, well!' + +'But did you ever have any more adventures among the seals?' said Una, +after a little. + +'Oh, the seals! I beg your pardon. They are the important things. +Yes--yess! I went back to the South Saxons after twelve--fifteen--years. +No, I did not come by water, but overland from my own Northumbria, to +see what I could do. It's little one can do with that class of native +except make them stop killing each other and themselves--' 'Why did they +kill themselves?' Una asked, her chin in her hand. + +'Because they were heathen. When they grew tired of life (as if they +were the only people!) they would jump into the sea. They called it +going to Wotan. It wasn't want of food always--by any means. A man would +tell you that he felt grey in the heart, or a woman would say that she +saw nothing but long days in front of her; and they'd saunter away to +the mud-flats and--that would be the end of them, poor souls, unless one +headed them off. One had to run quick, but one can't allow people to +lay hands on themselves because they happen to feel grey. +Yes--yess--Extraordinary people, the South Saxons. Disheartening, +sometimes.... What does that say now?' The organ had changed tune again. + +'Only a hymn for next Sunday,' said Una. '"The Church's One Foundation." +Go on, please, about running over the mud. I should like to have seen +you.' + +'I dare say you would, and I really could run in those days. Ethelwalch +the King gave me some five or six muddy parishes by the sea, and the +first time my good Eddi and I rode there we saw a man slouching +along the slob, among the seals at Manhood End. My good Eddi disliked +seals--but he swallowed his objections and ran like a hare.' + +'Why?'said Dan. + +'For the same reason that I did. We thought it was one of our people +going to drown himself. As a matter of fact, Eddi and I were nearly +drowned in the pools before we overtook him. To cut a long story short, +we found ourselves very muddy, very breathless, being quietly made fun +of in good Latin by a very well-spoken person. No--he'd no idea of +going to Wotan. He was fishing on his own beaches, and he showed us the +beacons and turf-heaps that divided his land from the church property. +He took us to his own house, gave us a good dinner, some more than good +wine, sent a guide with us into Chichester, and became one of my best +and most refreshing friends. He was a Meon by descent, from the west +edge of the kingdom; a scholar educated, curiously enough, at Lyons, +my old school; had travelled the world over, even to Rome, and was a +brilliant talker. We found we had scores of acquaintances in common. It +seemed he was a small chief under King Ethelwalch, and I fancy the King +was somewhat afraid of him. The South Saxons mistrust a man who talks +too well. Ah! Now, I've left out the very point of my story. He kept a +great grey-muzzled old dog-seal that he had brought up from a pup. He +called it Padda--after one of my clergy. It was rather like fat, honest +old Padda. The creature followed him everywhere, and nearly knocked down +my good Eddi when we first met him. Eddi loathed it. It used to sniff at +his thin legs and cough at him. I can't say I ever took much notice +of it (I was not fond of animals), till one day Eddi came to me with +a circumstantial account of some witchcraft that Meon worked. He would +tell the seal to go down to the beach the last thing at night, and +bring him word of the weather. When it came back, Meon might say to his +slaves, "Padda thinks we shall have wind tomorrow. Haul up the boats!" I +spoke to Meon casually about the story, and he laughed. + +'He told me he could judge by the look of the creature's coat and the +way it sniffed what weather was brewing. Quite possible. One need +not put down everything one does not understand to the work of bad +spirits--or good ones, for that matter.' He nodded towards Puck, who +nodded gaily in return. + +'I say so,' he went on, 'because to a certain extent I have been made a +victim of that habit of mind. Some while after I was settled at Selsey, +King Ethelwalch and Queen Ebba ordered their people to be baptized. I +fear I'm too old to believe that a whole nation can change its heart at +the King's command, and I had a shrewd suspicion that their real motive +was to get a good harvest. No rain had fallen for two or three years, +but as soon as we had finished baptizing, it fell heavily, and they all +said it was a miracle.' + +'And was it?' Dan asked. + +'Everything in life is a miracle, but'--the Archbishop twisted the heavy +ring on his finger--'I should be slow--ve-ry slow should I be--to assume +that a certain sort of miracle happens whenever lazy and improvident +people say they are going to turn over a new leaf if they are paid for +it. My friend Meon had sent his slaves to the font, but he had not come +himself, so the next time I rode over--to return a manuscript--I took +the liberty of asking why. He was perfectly open about it. He looked +on the King's action as a heathen attempt to curry favour with the +Christians' God through me the Archbishop, and he would have none of it. + +'"My dear man," I said, "admitting that that is the case, surely you, as +an educated person, don't believe in Wotan and all the other hobgoblins +any more than Padda here?" The old seal was hunched up on his ox-hide +behind his master's chair. + +'"Even if I don't," he said, "why should I insult the memory of my +fathers' Gods? I have sent you a hundred and three of my rascals to +christen. Isn't that enough?" + +'"By no means," I answered. "I want you." + +'"He wants us! What do you think of that, Padda?" He pulled the seal's +whiskers till it threw back its head and roared, and he pretended to +interpret. "No! Padda says he won't be baptized yet awhile. He says +you'll stay to dinner and come fishing with me tomorrow, because you're +over-worked and need a rest." + +'"I wish you'd keep yon brute in its proper place," I said, and Eddi, my +chaplain, agreed. + +'"I do," said Meon. "I keep him just next my heart. He can't tell a lie, +and he doesn't know how to love any one except me. It 'ud be the same if +I were dying on a mud-bank, wouldn't it, Padda?" + +'"Augh! Augh!" said Padda, and put up his head to be scratched. + +'Then Meon began to tease Eddi: "Padda says, if Eddi saw his Archbishop +dying on a mud-bank Eddi would tuck up his gown and run. Padda knows +Eddi can run too! Padda came into Wittering Church last Sunday--all +wet--to hear the music, and Eddi ran out." + +'My good Eddi rubbed his hands and his shins together, and flushed. +"Padda is a child of the Devil, who is the father of lies!" he cried, +and begged my pardon for having spoken. I forgave him. + +'"Yes. You are just about stupid enough for a musician," said Meon. "But +here he is. Sing a hymn to him, and see if he can stand it. You'll find +my small harp beside the fireplace." + +'Eddi, who is really an excellent musician, played and sang for quite +half an hour. Padda shuffled off his ox-hide, hunched himself on his +flippers before him, and listened with his head thrown back. Yes--yess! +A rather funny sight! Meon tried not to laugh, and asked Eddi if he were +satisfied. + +'It takes some time to get an idea out of my good Eddi's head. He looked +at me. + +'"Do you want to sprinkle him with holy water, and see if he flies up +the chimney? Why not baptize him?" said Meon. + +'Eddi was really shocked. I thought it was bad taste myself. + +'"That's not fair," said Meon. "You call him a demon and a familiar +spirit because he loves his master and likes music, and when I offer you +a chance to prove it you won't take it. Look here! I'll make a bargain. +I'll be baptized if you'll baptize Padda too. He's more of a man than +most of my slaves." + +'"One doesn't bargain--or joke--about these matters," I said. He was +going altogether too far. + +'"Quite right," said Meon; "I shouldn't like any one to joke about +Padda. Padda, go down to the beach and bring us tomorrow's weather!" + +'My good Eddi must have been a little over-tired with his day's work. +"I am a servant of the church," he cried. "My business is to save souls, +not to enter into fellowships and understandings with accursed beasts." + +'"Have it your own narrow way," said Meon. "Padda, you needn't go." The +old fellow flounced back to his ox-hide at once. + +'"Man could learn obedience at least from that creature," said Eddi, a +little ashamed of himself. Christians should not curse. '"Don't begin to +apologise Just when I am beginning to like you," said Meon. "We'll leave +Padda behind tomorrow--out of respect to your feelings. Now let's go to +supper. We must be up early tomorrow for the whiting." + +'The next was a beautiful crisp autumn morning--a weather-breeder, if I +had taken the trouble to think; but it's refreshing to escape from +kings and converts for half a day. We three went by ourselves in Meon's +smallest boat, and we got on the whiting near an old wreck, a mile or +so off shore. Meon knew the marks to a yard, and the fish were +keen. Yes--yess! A perfect morning's fishing! If a Bishop can't be a +fisherman, who can?' He twiddled his ring again. 'We stayed there a +little too long, and while we were getting up our stone, down came the +fog. After some discussion, we decided to row for the land. The ebb was +just beginning to make round the point, and sent us all ways at once +like a coracle.' + +'Selsey Bill,' said Puck under his breath. 'The tides run something +furious there.' + +'I believe you,' said the Archbishop. 'Meon and I have spent a good many +evenings arguing as to where exactly we drifted. All I know is we found +ourselves in a little rocky cove that had sprung up round us out of the +fog, and a swell lifted the boat on to a ledge, and she broke up beneath +our feet. We had just time to shuffle through the weed before the next +wave. The sea was rising. '"It's rather a pity we didn't let Padda go +down to the beach last night," said Meon. "He might have warned us this +was coming." + +'"Better fall into the hands of God than the hands of demons," said +Eddi, and his teeth chattered as he prayed. A nor'-west breeze had just +got up--distinctly cool. + +'"Save what you can of the boat," said Meon; "we may need it," and we +had to drench ourselves again, fishing out stray planks.' + +'What for?' said Dan. + +'For firewood. We did not know when we should get off. Eddi had flint +and steel, and we found dry fuel in the old gulls' nests and lit a +fire. It smoked abominably, and we guarded it with boat-planks up-ended +between the rocks. One gets used to that sort of thing if one travels. +Unluckily I'm not so strong as I was. I fear I must have been a trouble +to my friends. It was blowing a full gale before midnight. Eddi wrung +out his cloak, and tried to wrap me in it, but I ordered him on his +obedience to keep it. However, he held me in his arms all the first +night, and Meon begged his pardon for what he'd said the night +before--about Eddi, running away if he found me on a sandbank, you +remember. '"You are right in half your prophecy," said Eddi. "I have +tucked up my gown, at any rate." (The wind had blown it over his head.) +"Now let us thank God for His mercies." + +'"Hum!" said Meon. "If this gale lasts, we stand a very fair chance of +dying of starvation." + +'"If it be God's will that we survive, God will provide," said Eddi. "At +least help me to sing to Him." The wind almost whipped the words out of +his mouth, but he braced himself against a rock and sang psalms. + +'I'm glad I never concealed my opinion--from myself--that Eddi was +a better man than I. Yet I have worked hard in my time--very hard! +Yes--yess! So the morning and the evening were our second day on that +islet. There was rain-water in the rock-pools, and, as a churchman, I +knew how to fast, but I admit we were hungry. Meon fed our fire chip by +chip to eke it out, and they made me sit over it, the dear fellows, when +I was too weak to object. Meon held me in his arms the second night, +just like a child. My good Eddi was a little out of his senses, +and imagined himself teaching a York choir to sing. Even so, he was +beautifully patient with them. + +'I heard Meon whisper, "If this keeps up we shall go to our Gods. I +wonder what Wotan will say to me. He must know I don't believe in him. +On the other hand, I can't do what Ethelwalch finds so easy--curry +favour with your God at the last minute, in the hope of being saved--as +you call it. How do you advise, Bishop?" '"My dear man," I said, "if +that is your honest belief, I take it upon myself to say you had far +better not curry favour with any God. But if it's only your Jutish pride +that holds you back, lift me up, and I'll baptize you even now." + +'"Lie still," said Meon. "I could judge better if I were in my own +hall. But to desert one's fathers' Gods--even if one doesn't believe in +them--in the middle of a gale, isn't quite--What would you do yourself?" + +'I was lying in his arms, kept alive by the warmth of his big, steady +heart. It did not seem to me the time or the place for subtle arguments, +so I answered, "No, I certainly should not desert my God." I don't see +even now what else I could have said. + +'"Thank you. I'll remember that, if I live," said Meon, and I must have +drifted back to my dreams about Northumbria and beautiful France, for +it was broad daylight when I heard him calling on Wotan in that high, +shaking heathen yell that I detest so. + +'"Lie quiet. I'm giving Wotan his chance," he said. Our dear Eddi ambled +up, still beating time to his imaginary choir. + +'"Yes. Call on your Gods," he cried, "and see what gifts they will send +you. They are gone on a journey, or they are hunting." + +'I assure you the words were not out of his mouth when old Padda shot +from the top of a cold wrinkled swell, drove himself over the weedy +ledge, and landed fair in our laps with a rock-cod between his teeth. I +could not help smiling at Eddi's face. "A miracle! A miracle!" he cried, +and kneeled down to clean the cod. + +'"You've been a long time finding us, my son," said Meon. "Now +fish--fish for all our lives. We're starving, Padda." + +'The old fellow flung himself quivering like a salmon backward into the +boil of the currents round the rocks, and Meon said, "We're safe. I'll +send him to fetch help when this wind drops. Eat and be thankful." + +'I never tasted anything so good as those rock-codlings we took from +Padda's mouth and half roasted over the fire. Between his plunges Padda +would hunch up and purr over Meon with the tears running down his face. +I never knew before that seals could weep for joy--as I have wept. + +'"Surely," said Eddi, with his mouth full, "God has made the seal the +loveliest of His creatures in the water. Look how Padda breasts the +current! He stands up against it like a rock; now watch the chain of +bubbles where he dives; and now--there is his wise head under that +rock-ledge! Oh, a blessing be on thee, my little brother Padda!" + +'"You said he was a child of the Devil!" Meon laughed. '"There I +sinned," poor Eddi answered. "Call him here, and I will ask his pardon. +God sent him out of the storm to humble me, a fool." + +'"I won't ask you to enter into fellowships and understandings with any +accursed brute," said Meon, rather unkindly. "Shall we say he was sent +to our Bishop as the ravens were sent to your prophet Elijah?" + +'"Doubtless that is so," said Eddi. "I will write it so if I live to get +home." + +'"No--no!" I said. "Let us three poor men kneel and thank God for His +mercies." + +'We kneeled, and old Padda shuffled up and thrust his head under Meon's +elbows. I laid my hand upon it and blessed him. So did Eddi. + +'"And now, my son," I said to Meon, "shall I baptize thee?" + +'"Not yet," said he. "Wait till we are well ashore and at home. No God +in any Heaven shall say that I came to him or left him because I was wet +and cold. I will send Padda to my people for a boat. Is that witchcraft, +Eddi?" + +'"Why, no. Surely Padda will go and pull them to the beach by the skirts +of their gowns as he pulled me in Wittering Church to ask me to sing. +Only then I was afraid, and did not understand," said Eddi. + +'"You are understanding now," said Meon, and at a wave of his arm off +went Padda to the mainland, making a wake like a war-boat till we lost +him in the rain. Meon's people could not bring a boat across for some +hours; even so it was ticklish work among the rocks in that tideway. +But they hoisted me aboard, too stiff to move, and Padda swam behind us, +barking and turning somersaults all the way to Manhood End!' + +'Good old Padda!' murmured Dan. + +'When we were quite rested and re-clothed, and his people had been +summoned--not an hour before--Meon offered himself to be baptized.' + +'Was Padda baptized too?' Una asked. + +'No, that was only Meon's joke. But he sat blinking on his ox-hide in +the middle of the hall. When Eddi (who thought I wasn't looking) made a +little cross in holy water on his wet muzzle, he kissed Eddi's hand. A +week before Eddi wouldn't have touched him. That was a miracle, if you +like! But seriously, I was more glad than I can tell you to get Meon. A +rare and splendid soul that never looked back--never looked back!' The +Arch-bishop half closed his eyes. + +'But, sir,' said Puck, most respectfully, 'haven't you left out what +Meon said afterwards?' Before the Bishop could speak he turned to the +children and went on: 'Meon called all his fishers and ploughmen and +herdsmen into the hall and he said: "Listen, men! Two days ago I asked +our Bishop whether it was fair for a man to desert his fathers' Gods +in a time of danger. Our Bishop said it was not fair. You needn't shout +like that, because you are all Christians now. My red war-boat's crew +will remember how near we all were to death when Padda fetched them over +to the Bishop's islet. You can tell your mates that even in that place, +at that time, hanging on the wet, weedy edge of death, our Bishop, a +Christian, counselled me, a heathen, to stand by my fathers' Gods. I +tell you now that a faith which takes care that every man shall keep +faith, even though he may save his soul by breaking faith, is the faith +for a man to believe in. So I believe in the Christian God, and in +Wilfrid His Bishop, and in the Church that Wilfrid rules. You have been +baptized once by the King's orders. I shall not have you baptized again; +but if I find any more old women being sent to Wotan, or any girls +dancing on the sly before Balder, or any men talking about Thun or Lok +or the rest, I will teach you with my own hands how to keep faith with +the Christian God. Go out quietly; you'll find a couple of beefs on the +beach." Then of course they shouted "Hurrah!" which meant "Thor help +us!" and--I think you laughed, sir?' + +'I think you remember it all too well,' said the Archbishop, smiling. +'It was a joyful day for me. I had learned a great deal on that rock +where Padda found us. Yes--yess! One should deal kindly with all the +creatures of God, and gently with their masters. But one learns late.' + +He rose, and his gold-embroidered sleeves rustled thickly. + +The organ cracked and took deep breaths. + +'Wait a minute,' Dan whispered. 'She's going to do the trumpety one. It +takes all the wind you can pump. It's in Latin, sir.' + +'There is no other tongue,' the Archbishop answered. + +'It's not a real hymn,' Una explained. 'She does it as a treat after her +exercises. She isn't a real organist, you know. She just comes down here +sometimes, from the Albert Hall.' + +'Oh, what a miracle of a voice!' said the Archbishop. + +It rang out suddenly from a dark arch of lonely noises--every word +spoken to the very end: + + 'Dies Irae, dies illa, + Solvet saeclum in favilla, + Teste David cum Sibylla.' +The Archbishop caught his breath and moved forward. The music carried on +by itself a while. + +'Now it's calling all the light out of the windows,' Una whispered to +Dan. + +'I think it's more like a horse neighing in battle,' he whispered back. +The voice continued: + + 'Tuba mirum spargens sonum + Per sepulchre regionum.' + +Deeper and deeper the organ dived down, but far below its deepest note +they heard Puck's voice joining in the last line: + + 'Coget omnes ante thronum.' + +As they looked in wonder, for it sounded like the dull jar of one of the +very pillars shifting, the little fellow turned and went out through the +south door. + +'Now's the sorrowful part, but it's very beautiful.' Una found herself +speaking to the empty chair in front of her. + +'What are you doing that for?' Dan said behind her. 'You spoke so +politely too.' + +'I don't know... I thought--' said Una. 'Funny!' + +''Tisn't. It's the part you like best,' Dan grunted. + +The music had turned soft--full of little sounds that chased each other +on wings across the broad gentle flood of the main tune. But the voice +was ten times lovelier than the music. + + 'Recordare Jesu pie, + Quod sum causa Tuae viae, + Ne me perdas illi die!' + +There was no more. They moved out into the centre aisle. + +'That you?' the Lady called as she shut the lid. 'I thought I heard you, +and I played it on purpose.' + +'Thank you awfully,' said Dan. 'We hoped you would, so we waited. Come +on, Una, it's pretty nearly dinner-time.' + + + + +Song of the Red War-Boat + + + Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! + Watch for a smooth! Give way! + If she feels the lop already + She'll stand on her head in the bay. + It's ebb--it's dusk--it's blowing, + The shoals are a mile of white, + But (snatch her along!) we're going + To find our master tonight. + + For we hold that in all disaster + Of shipwreck, storm, or sword, + A man must stand by his master + When once he had pledged his word! + + Raging seas have we rowed in, + But we seldom saw them thus; + Our master is angry with Odin-- + Odin is angry with us! + Heavy odds have we taken, + But never before such odds. + The Gods know they are forsaken, + We must risk the wrath of the Gods! + + Over the crest she flies from, + Into its hollow she drops, + Crouches and clears her eyes from + The wind-torn breaker-tops, + Ere out on the shrieking shoulder + Of a hill-high surge she drives. + Meet her! Meet her and hold her! + Pull for your scoundrel lives! + + The thunder bellow and clamour + The harm that they mean to do; + There goes Thor's Own Hammer + Cracking the dark in two! + + Close! But the blow has missed her, + Here comes the wind of the blow! + Row or the squall'll twist her + Broadside on to it!---Row! + + Hearken, Thor of the Thunder! + We are not here for a jest-- + For wager, warfare, or plunder, + Or to put your power to test. + This work is none of our wishing-- + We would stay at home if we might-- + But our master is wrecked out fishing, + We go to find him tonight. + + For we hold that in all disaster-- + As the Gods Themselves have said-- + A man must stand by his master + Till one of the two is dead. + + That is our way of thinking, + Now you can do as you will, + While we try to save her from sinking, + And hold her head to it still. + Bale her and keep her moving, + Or she'll break her back in the trough... + Who said the weather's improving, + And the swells are taking off? + + Sodden, and chafed and aching, + Gone in the loins and knees-- + No matter--the day is breaking, + And there's far less weight to the seas! + Up mast, and finish baling-- + In oars, and out with the mead-- + The rest will be two-reef sailing... + That was a night indeed! + But we hold that in all disaster + (And faith, we have found it true!) + If only you stand by your master, + The Gods will stand by you! + + + + + +A DOCTOR OF MEDICINE + + + + +An Astrologer's Song + + + To the Heavens above us + Oh, look and behold + The planets that love us + All harnessed in gold! + What chariots, what horses, + Against us shall bide + While the Stars in their courses + Do fight on our side? + + All thought, all desires, + That are under the sun, + Are one with their fires, + As we also are one; + All matter, all spirit, + All fashion, all frame, + Receive and inherit + Their strength from the same. + + (Oh, man that deniest + All power save thine own, + Their power in the highest + Is mightily shown. + Not less in the lowest + That power is made clear. + Oh, man, if thou knowest, + What treasure is here!) + + Earth quakes in her throes + And we wonder for why! + But the blind planet knows + When her ruler is nigh; + And, attuned since Creation, + To perfect accord, + She thrills in her station + And yearns to her Lord. + + The waters have risen, + The springs are unbound-- + The floods break their prison, + And ravin around. + No rampart withstands 'em, + Their fury will last, + Till the Sign that commands 'em + Sinks low or swings past. + + Through abysses unproven, + And gulfs beyond thought, + Our portion is woven, + Our burden is brought. + Yet They that prepare it, + Whose Nature we share, + Make us who must bear it + Well able to bear. + + Though terrors o'ertake us + We'll not be afraid, + No Power can unmake us + Save that which has made. + Nor yet beyond reason + Nor hope shall we fall-- + All things have their season, + And Mercy crowns all. + + Then, doubt not, ye fearful-- + The Eternal is King-- + Up, heart, and be cheerful, + And lustily sing: + What chariots, what horses, + Against us shall bide + While the Stars in their courses + Do fight on our side? + + + + +A Doctor of Medicine + +They were playing hide-and-seek with bicycle lamps after tea. Dan had +hung his lamp on the apple tree at the end of the hellebore bed in the +walled garden, and was crouched by the gooseberry bushes ready to dash +off when Una should spy him. He saw her lamp come into the garden and +disappear as she hid it under her cloak. While he listened for her +footsteps, somebody (they both thought it was Phillips the gardener) +coughed in the corner of the herb-beds. + +'All right,' Una shouted across the asparagus; 'we aren't hurting your +old beds, Phippsey!' + +She flashed her lantern towards the spot, and in its circle of light +they saw a Guy Fawkes-looking man in a black cloak and a steeple-crowned +hat, walking down the path beside Puck. They ran to meet him, and the +man said something to them about rooms in their head. After a time they +understood he was warning them not to catch colds. + +'You've a bit of a cold yourself, haven't you?' said Una, for he ended +all his sentences with a consequential cough. Puck laughed. + +'Child,' the man answered, 'if it hath pleased Heaven to afflict me with +an infirmity--' + +'Nay, nay,' Puck struck In, 'the maid spoke out of kindness. I know that +half your cough is but a catch to trick the vulgar; and that's a pity. +There's honesty enough in you, Nick, without rasping and hawking.' + +'Good people'--the man shrugged his lean shoulders--'the vulgar crowd +love not truth unadorned. Wherefore we philosophers must needs dress her +to catch their eye or--ahem!---their ear.' + +'And what d'you think of that?' said Puck solemnly to Dan. + +'I don't know,' he answered. 'It sounds like lessons.' + +'Ah--well! There have been worse men than Nick Culpeper to take lessons +from. Now, where can we sit that's not indoors?' + +'In the hay-mow, next to old Middenboro,' Dan suggested. 'He doesn't +mind.' + +'Eh?' Mr Culpeper was stooping over the pale hellebore blooms by the +light of Una's lamp. 'Does Master Middenboro need my poor services, +then?' + +'Save him, no!' said Puck. 'He is but a horse--next door to an ass, as +you'll see presently. Come!' + +Their shadows jumped and slid on the fruit-tree walls. They filed out of +the garden by the snoring pig-pound and the crooning hen-house, to the +shed where Middenboro the old lawn-mower pony lives. His friendly eyes +showed green in the light as they set their lamps down on the chickens' +drinking-trough outside, and pushed past to the hay-mow. Mr Culpeper +stooped at the door. + +'Mind where you lie,' said Dan. 'This hay's full of hedge-brishings. + +'In! in!' said Puck. 'You've lain in fouler places than this, Nick. +Ah! Let us keep touch with the stars!' He kicked open the top of the +half-door, and pointed to the clear sky. 'There be the planets you +conjure with! What does your wisdom make of that wandering and variable +star behind those apple boughs?' + +The children smiled. A bicycle that they knew well was being walked down +the steep lane. 'Where?' Mr Culpeper leaned forward quickly. 'That? Some +countryman's lantern.' + +'Wrong, Nick,' said Puck. ''Tis a singular bright star in Virgo, +declining towards the house of Aquarius the water-carrier, who hath +lately been afflicted by Gemini. Aren't I right, Una?' Mr Culpeper +snorted contemptuously. + +'No. It's the village nurse going down to the Mill about some fresh +twins that came there last week. Nurse,' Una called, as the light +stopped on the flat, 'when can I see the Morris twins? And how are +they?' + +'Next Sunday, perhaps. Doing beautifully,' the Nurse called back, and +with a ping-ping-ping of the bell brushed round the corner. + +'Her uncle's a vetinary surgeon near Banbury,' Una explained, and if you +ring her bell at night, it rings right beside her bed--not downstairs +at all. Then she 'umps up--she always keeps a pair of dry boots in the +fender, you know--and goes anywhere she's wanted. We help her bicycle +through gaps sometimes. Most of her babies do beautifully. She told us +so herself.' + +'I doubt not, then, that she reads in my books,' said Mr Culpeper +quietly. 'Twins at the Mill!' he muttered half aloud. "And again He +sayeth, Return, ye children of men."' + +'Are you a doctor or a rector?' Una asked, and Puck with a shout turned +head over heels in the hay. But Mr Culpeper was quite serious. He told +them that he was a physician-astrologer--a doctor who knew all about the +stars as well as all about herbs for medicine. He said that the sun, +the moon, and five Planets, called Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, Saturn, and +Venus, governed everybody and everything in the world. They all lived +in Houses--he mapped out some of them against the dark with a busy +forefinger--and they moved from House to House like pieces at draughts; +and they went loving and hating each other all over the skies. If you +knew their likes and dislikes, he said, you could make them cure your +patient and hurt your enemy, and find out the secret causes of things. +He talked of these five Planets as though they belonged to him, or as +though he were playing long games against them. The children burrowed +in the hay up to their chins, and looked out over the half-door at the +solemn, star-powdered sky till they seemed to be falling upside down +into it, while Mr Culpeper talked about 'trines' and 'oppositions' and +'conjunctions' and 'sympathies' and 'antipathies' in a tone that just +matched things. + +A rat ran between Middenboro's feet, and the old pony stamped. + +'Mid hates rats,' said Dan, and passed him over a lock of hay. 'I wonder +why.' + +'Divine Astrology tells us,' said Mr Culpeper. 'The horse, being a +martial beast that beareth man to battle, belongs naturally to the red +planet Mars--the Lord of War. I would show you him, but he's too near +his setting. Rats and mice, doing their businesses by night, come under +the dominion of our Lady the Moon. Now between Mars and Luna, the one +red, t'other white, the one hot t'other cold and so forth, stands, as +I have told you, a natural antipathy, or, as you say, hatred. Which +antipathy their creatures do inherit. Whence, good people, you may both +see and hear your cattle stamp in their stalls for the self-same causes +as decree the passages of the stars across the unalterable face of +Heaven! Ahem!' Puck lay along chewing a leaf. They felt him shake with +laughter, and Mr Culpeper sat up stiffly. + +'I myself' said he, 'have saved men's lives, and not a few neither, by +observing at the proper time--there is a time, mark you, for all +things under the sun--by observing, I say, so small a beast as a rat +in conjunction with so great a matter as this dread arch above us.' He +swept his hand across the sky. 'Yet there are those,' he went on sourly, +'who have years without knowledge.' + +'Right,' said Puck. 'No fool like an old fool.' + +Mr Culpeper wrapped his cloak round him and sat still while the children +stared at the Great Bear on the hilltop. + +'Give him time,' Puck whispered behind his hand. 'He turns like a +timber-tug--all of a piece.' + +'Ahem!' Mr Culpeper said suddenly. 'I'll prove it to you. When I was +physician to Saye's Horse, and fought the King--or rather the man +Charles Stuart--in Oxfordshire (I had my learning at Cambridge), the +plague was very hot all around us. I saw it at close hands. He who +says I am ignorant of the plague, for example, is altogether beside the +bridge.' + +'We grant it,' said Puck solemnly. 'But why talk of the plague this rare +night?' + +'To prove my argument. This Oxfordshire plague, good people, being +generated among rivers and ditches, was of a werish, watery nature. +Therefore it was curable by drenching the patient in cold water, and +laying him in wet cloths; or at least, so I cured some of them. Mark +this. It bears on what shall come after.' + +'Mark also, Nick,' said Puck, that we are not your College of +Physicians, but only a lad and a lass and a poor lubberkin. Therefore be +plain, old Hyssop on the Wall!' + +'To be plain and in order with you, I was shot in the chest while +gathering of betony from a brookside near Thame, and was took by the +King's men before their Colonel, one Blagg or Bragge, whom I warned +honestly that I had spent the week past among our plague-stricken. He +flung me off into a cowshed, much like this here, to die, as I supposed; +but one of their priests crept in by night and dressed my wound. He was +a Sussex man like myself.' + +'Who was that?' said Puck suddenly. 'Zack Tutshom?' + +'No, Jack Marget,' said Mr Culpeper. + +'Jack Marget of New College? The little merry man that stammered so? Why +a plague was stuttering Jack at Oxford then?' said Puck. + +'He had come out of Sussex in hope of being made a Bishop when the King +should have conquered the rebels, as he styled us Parliament men. His +College had lent the King some monies too, which they never got again, +no more than simple Jack got his bishopric. When we met he had had a +bitter bellyful of King's promises, and wished to return to his wife and +babes. This came about beyond expectation, for, so soon as I could +stand of my wound, the man Blagge made excuse that I had been among the +plague, and Jack had been tending me, to thrust us both out from their +camp. The King had done with Jack now that Jack's College had lent the +money, and Blagge's physician could not abide me because I would not +sit silent and see him butcher the sick. (He was a College of Physicians +man!) So Blagge, I say, thrust us both out, with many vile words, for a +pair of pestilent, prating, pragmatical rascals.' + +'Ha! Called you pragmatical, Nick?' Puck started up. 'High time Oliver +came to purge the land! How did you and honest Jack fare next?' + +'We were in some sort constrained to each other's company. I was for +going to my house in Spitalfields, he would go to his parish in Sussex; +but the plague was broke out and spreading through Wiltshire, Berkshire, +and Hampshire, and he was so mad distracted to think that it might even +then be among his folk at home that I bore him company. He had comforted +me in my distress. I could not have done less; and I remembered that I +had a cousin at Great Wigsell, near by Jack's parish. Thus we footed it +from Oxford, cassock and buff coat together, resolute to leave wars on +the left side henceforth; and either through our mean appearances, or +the plague making men less cruel, we were not hindered. To be sure, they +put us in the stocks one half-day for rogues and vagabonds at a village +under St Leonard's forest, where, as I have heard, nightingales never +sing; but the constable very honestly gave me back my Astrological +Almanac, which I carry with me.' Mr Culpeper tapped his thin chest. 'I +dressed a whitlow on his thumb. So we went forward. + +'Not to trouble you with impertinences, we fetched over against Jack +Marget's parish in a storm of rain about the day's end. Here our roads +divided, for I would have gone on to my cousin at Great Wigsell, but +while Jack was pointing me out his steeple, we saw a man lying drunk, +as he conceived, athwart the road. He said it would be one Hebden, a +parishioner, and till then a man of good life; and he accused himself +bitterly for an unfaithful shepherd, that had left his flock to follow +princes. But I saw it was the plague, and not the beginnings of it +neither. They had set out the plague-stone, and the man's head lay on +it.' + +'What's a plague-stone?' Dan whispered. + +'When the plague is so hot in a village that the neighbours shut the +roads against 'em, people set a hollowed stone, pot, or pan, where such +as would purchase victual from outside may lay money and the paper of +their wants, and depart. Those that would sell come later--what will +a man not do for gain?---snatch the money forth, and leave in exchange +such goods as their conscience reckons fair value. I saw a silver groat +in the water, and the man's list of what he would buy was rain-pulped in +his wet hand. + +'"My wife! Oh, my wife and babes!" says Jack of a sudden, and makes +uphill--I with him. + +'A woman peers out from behind a barn, crying out that the village is +stricken with the plague, and that for our lives' sake we must avoid it. + +'"Sweetheart!" says Jack. "Must I avoid thee?" and she leaps at him and +says the babes are safe. She was his wife. + +'When he had thanked God, even to tears, he tells me this was not the +welcome he had intended, and presses me to flee the place while I was +clean. + +'"Nay! The Lord do so to me and more also if I desert thee now," I said. +"These affairs are, under God's leave, in some fashion my strength." + +'"Oh, sir," she says, "are you a physician? We have none." + +'"Then, good people," said I, "I must e'en justify myself to you by my +works." + +'"Look--look ye," stammers Jack, "I took you all this time for a crazy +Roundhead preacher." He laughs, and she, and then I--all three together +in the rain are overtook by an unreasonable gust or clap of laughter, +which none the less eased us. We call it in medicine the Hysterical +Passion. So I went home with 'em.' + +'Why did you not go on to your cousin at Great Wigsell, Nick?' Puck +suggested. ''tis barely seven mile up the road.' + +'But the plague was here,' Mr Culpeper answered, and pointed up the +hill. 'What else could I have done?' + +'What were the parson's children called?' said Una. + +'Elizabeth, Alison, Stephen, and Charles--a babe. I scarce saw them at +first, for I separated to live with their father in a cart-lodge. The +mother we put--forced--into the house with her babes. She had done +enough. + +'And now, good people, give me leave to be particular in this case. The +plague was worst on the north side of the street, for lack, as I showed +'em, of sunshine; which, proceeding from the PRIME MOBILE, or source of +life (I speak astrologically), is cleansing and purifying in the highest +degree. The plague was hot too by the corn-chandler's, where they sell +forage to the carters, extreme hot in both Mills, along the river, and +scatteringly in other places, except, mark you, at the smithy. Mark +here, that all forges and smith shops belong to Mars, even as corn and +meat and wine shops acknowledge Venus for their mistress. There was no +plague in the smithy at Munday's Lane--' + +'Munday's Lane? You mean our village? I thought so when you talked about +the two Mills,' cried Dan. 'Where did we put the plague-stone? I'd like +to have seen it.' + +'Then look at it now,' said Puck, and pointed to the chickens' +drinking-trough where they had set their bicycle lamps. It was a rough, +oblong stone pan, rather like a small kitchen sink, which Phillips, +who never wastes anything, had found in a ditch and had used for his +precious hens. + +'That?' said Dan and Una, and stared, and stared, and stared. Mr +Culpeper made impatient noises in his throat and went on. + +'I am at these pains to be particular, good people, because I would have +you follow, so far as you may, the operations of my mind. That plague +which I told you I had handled outside Wallingford in Oxfordshire was +of a watery nature, conformable to the brookish riverine country it bred +in, and curable, as I have said, by drenching in water. This plague of +ours here, for all that it flourished along watercourses--every soul at +both Mills died of it,--could not be so handled. Which brought me to a +stand. Ahem!' + +'And your sick people in the meantime?'Puck demanded. 'We persuaded them +on the north side of the street to lie out in Hitheram's field. Where +the plague had taken one, or at most two, in a house, folk would not +shift for fear of thieves in their absence. They cast away their lives +to die among their goods.' + +'Human nature,' said Puck. 'I've seen it time and again. How did your +sick do in the fields?' + +'They died not near so thick as those that kept within doors, and even +then they died more out of distraction and melancholy than plague. But +I confess, good people, I could not in any sort master the sickness, or +come at a glimmer of its nature or governance. To be brief, I was flat +bewildered at the brute malignity of the disease, and so--did what I +should have done before--dismissed all conjectures and apprehensions +that had grown up within me, chose a good hour by my Almanac, clapped +my vinegar-cloth to my face, and entered some empty houses, resigned to +wait upon the stars for guidance.' + +'At night? Were you not horribly frightened?' said Puck. + +'I dared to hope that the God who hath made man so nobly curious to +search out His mysteries might not destroy a devout seeker. In due +time--there's a time, as I have said, for everything under the sun--I +spied a whitish rat, very puffed and scabby, which sat beneath the +dormer of an attic through which shined our Lady the Moon. Whilst I +looked on him--and her--she was moving towards old cold Saturn, her +ancient ally--the rat creeped languishingly into her light, and there, +before my eyes, died. Presently his mate or companion came out, laid him +down beside there, and in like fashion died too. Later--an hour or +less to midnight--a third rat did e'en the same; always choosing the +moonlight to die in. This threw me into an amaze, since, as we know, the +moonlight is favourable, not hurtful, to the creatures of the Moon; +and Saturn, being friends with her, as you would say, was hourly +strengthening her evil influence. Yet these three rats had been stricken +dead in very moonlight. I leaned out of the window to see which of +Heaven's host might be on our side, and there beheld I good trusty Mars, +very red and heated, bustling about his setting. I straddled the roof to +see better. + +'Jack Marget came up street going to comfort our sick in Hitheram's +field. A tile slipped under my foot. + +Says he, heavily enough, "Watchman, what of the night?" + +'"Heart up, Jack," says I. "Methinks there's one fighting for us that, +like a fool, I've forgot all this summer." My meaning was naturally the +planet Mars. + +'"Pray to Him then," says he. "I forgot Him too this summer." + +'He meant God, whom he always bitterly accused himself of having +forgotten up in Oxfordshire, among the King's men. I called down that +he had made amends enough for his sin by his work among the sick, but he +said he would not believe so till the plague was lifted from 'em. He was +at his strength's end--more from melancholy than any just cause. I have +seen this before among priests and overcheerful men. I drenched him then +and there with a half-cup of waters, which I do not say cure the plague, +but are excellent against heaviness of the spirits.' + +'What were they?' said Dan. + +'White brandy rectified, camphor, cardamoms, ginger, two sorts of +pepper, and aniseed.' 'Whew!' said Puck. 'Waters you call 'em!' + +'Jack coughed on it valiantly, and went downhill with me. I was for the +Lower Mill in the valley, to note the aspect of the Heavens. My mind had +already shadowed forth the reason, if not the remedy, for our troubles, +but I would not impart it to the vulgar till I was satisfied. That +practice may be perfect, judgment ought to be sound, and to make +judgment sound is required an exquisite knowledge. Ahem! I left Jack and +his lantern among the sick in Hitheram's field. He still maintained +the prayers of the so-called Church, which were rightly forbidden by +Cromwell.' + +'You should have told your cousin at Wigsell,' said Puck, 'and Jack +would have been fined for it, and you'd have had half the money. How did +you come so to fail in your duty, Nick?' + +Mr Culpeper laughed--his only laugh that evening--and the children +jumped at the loud neigh of it. + +'We were not fearful of men's judgment in those days,' he answered. 'Now +mark me closely, good people, for what follows will be to you, though +not to me, remarkable. When I reached the empty Mill, old Saturn, low +down in the House of the Fishes, threatened the Sun's rising-place. Our +Lady the Moon was moving towards the help of him (understand, I speak +astrologically). I looked abroad upon the high Heavens, and I prayed the +Maker of 'em for guidance. Now Mars sparkingly withdrew himself below +the sky. On the instant of his departure, which I noted, a bright star +or vapour leaped forth above his head (as though he had heaved up his +sword), and broke all about in fire. The cocks crowed midnight through +the valley, and I sat me down by the mill-wheel, chewing spearmint +(though that's an herb of Venus), and calling myself all the asses' +heads in the world! 'Twas plain enough now!' + +'What was plain?' said Una. + +'The true cause and cure of the plague. Mars, good fellow, had fought +for us to the uttermost. Faint though he had been in the Heavens, and +this had made me overlook him in my computations, he more than any +of the other planets had kept the Heavens--which is to say, had been +visible some part of each night wellnigh throughout the year. Therefore +his fierce and cleansing influence, warring against the Moon, had +stretched out to kill those three rats under my nose, and under the nose +of their natural mistress, the Moon. I had known Mars lean half across +Heaven to deal our Lady the Moon some shrewd blow from under his shield, +but I had never before seen his strength displayed so effectual.' + +'I don't understand a bit. Do you mean Mars killed the rats because he +hated the Moon?' said Una. + +'That is as plain as the pikestaff with which Blagge's men pushed me +forth,'Mr Culpeper answered. 'I'll prove it. Why had the plague not +broken out at the blacksmith's shop in Munday's Lane? Because, as I've +shown you, forges and smithies belong naturally to Mars, and, for his +honour's sake, Mars 'ud keep 'em clean from the creatures of the Moon. +But was it like, think you, that he'd come down and rat-catch in general +for lazy, ungrateful mankind? That were working a willing horse to +death. So, then, you can see that the meaning of the blazing star above +him when he set was simply this: "Destroy and burn the creatures Of the +moon, for they are the root of your trouble. And thus, having shown you +a taste of my power, good people, adieu."' + +'Did Mars really say all that?' Una whispered. + +'Yes, and twice so much as that to any one who had ears to hear. +Briefly, he enlightened me that the plague was spread by the creatures +of the Moon. The Moon, our Lady of ill-aspect, was the offender. My own +poor wits showed me that I, Nick Culpeper, had the people in my charge, +God's good providence aiding me, and no time to lose neither. + +'I posted up the hill, and broke into Hitheram's field amongst 'em all +at prayers. + +'"Eureka, good people!" I cried, and cast down a dead mill-rat which I'd +found. "Here's your true enemy, revealed at last by the stars." + +'"Nay, but I'm praying," says Jack. His face was as white as washed +silver. + +'"There's a time for everything under the sun," says I. "If you would +stay the plague, take and kill your rats." + +'"Oh, mad, stark mad!" says he, and wrings his hands. + +'A fellow lay in the ditch beside him, who bellows that he'd as soon die +mad hunting rats as be preached to death on a cold fallow. They +laughed round him at this, but Jack Marget falls on his knees, and very +presumptuously petitions that he may be appointed to die to save the +rest of his people. This was enough to thrust 'em back into their +melancholy. '"You are an unfaithful shepherd, jack," I says. "Take a +bat" (which we call a stick in Sussex) "and kill a rat if you die before +sunrise. 'Twill save your people." + +'"Aye, aye. Take a bat and kill a rat," he says ten times over, like +a child, which moved 'em to ungovernable motions of that hysterical +passion before mentioned, so that they laughed all, and at least +warmed their chill bloods at that very hour--one o'clock or a little +after--when the fires of life burn lowest. Truly there is a time for +everything; and the physician must work with it--ahem!--or miss his +cure. To be brief with you, I persuaded 'em, sick or sound, to have +at the whole generation of rats throughout the village. And there's a +reason for all things too, though the wise physician need not blab 'em +all. Imprimis, or firstly, the mere sport of it, which lasted ten days, +drew 'em most markedly out of their melancholy. I'd defy sorrowful +job himself to lament or scratch while he's routing rats from a rick. +Secundo, or secondly, the vehement act and operation of this chase or +war opened their skins to generous transpiration--more vulgarly, sweated +'em handsomely; and this further drew off their black bile--the mother +of sickness. Thirdly, when we came to burn the bodies of the rats, +I sprinkled sulphur on the faggots, whereby the onlookers were as +handsomely suffumigated. This I could not have compassed if I had made +it a mere physician's business; they'd have thought it some conjuration. +Yet more, we cleansed, limed, and burned out a hundred foul poke-holes, +sinks, slews, and corners of unvisited filth in and about the houses in +the village, and by good fortune (mark here that Mars was in opposition +to Venus) burned the corn-handler's shop to the ground. Mars loves not +Venus. Will Noakes the saddler dropped his lantern on a truss of straw +while he was rat-hunting there.' + +'Had ye given Will any of that gentle cordial of yours, Nick, by any +chance?' said Puck. + +'A glass--or two glasses--not more. But as I would say, in fine, when we +had killed the rats, I took ash, slag, and charcoal from the smithy, +and burnt earth from the brickyard (I reason that a brickyard belongs +to Mars), and rammed it with iron crowbars into the rat-runs and buries, +and beneath all the house floors. The Creatures of the Moon hate all +that Mars hath used for his own clean ends. For example--rats bite not +iron.' + +'And how did poor stuttering Jack endure it?' said Puck. + +'He sweated out his melancholy through his skin, and catched a +loose cough, which I cured with electuaries, according to art. It is +noteworthy, were I speaking among my equals, that the venom of the +plague translated, or turned itself into, and evaporated, or went away +as, a very heavy hoarseness and thickness of the head, throat, and +chest. (Observe from my books which planets govern these portions of +man's body, and your darkness, good people, shall be illuminated--ahem!) +None the less, the plague, qua plague, ceased and took off (for we only +lost three more, and two of 'em had it already on 'em) from the +morning of the day that Mars enlightened me by the Lower Mill.' He +coughed--almost trumpeted--triumphantly. + +'It is proved,' he jerked out. 'I say I have proved my contention, which +is, that by Divine Astrology and humble search into the veritable causes +of things--at the proper time--the sons of wisdom may combat even the +plague.' + +H'm!' Puck replied. 'For my own part I hold that a simple soul--' + +'Mine? Simple, forsooth?' said Mr Culpeper. + +'A very simple soul, a high courage tempered with sound and stubborn +conceit, is stronger than all the stars in their courses. So I confess +truly that you saved the village, Nick.' + +'I stubborn? I stiff-necked? I ascribed all my poor success, under God's +good providence, to Divine Astrology. Not to me the glory! You talk as +that dear weeping ass Jack Marget preached before I went back to my work +in Red Lion House, Spitalfields.' + +'Oh! Stammering Jack preached, did he? They say he loses his stammer in +the pulpit.' + +'And his wits with it. He delivered a most idolatrous discourse when the +plague was stayed. He took for his text: "The wise man that delivered +the city." I could have given him a better, such as: "There is a time +for--"' + +'But what made you go to church to hear him?' Puck interrupted. 'Wail +Attersole was your lawfully appointed preacher, and a dull dog he was!' + +Mr Culpeper wriggled uneasily. + +'The vulgar,' said he, 'the old crones and--ahem!---the children, Alison +and the others, they dragged me to the House of Rimmon by the hand. I +was in two minds to inform on Jack for maintaining the mummeries of the +falsely-called Church, which, I'll prove to you, are founded merely on +ancient fables--' + +'Stick to your herbs and planets,' said Puck, laughing. 'You should +have told the magistrates, Nick, and had Jack fined. Again, why did you +neglect your plain duty?' + +'Because--because I was kneeling, and praying, and weeping with the rest +of 'em at the Altar-rails. In medicine this is called the Hysterical +Passion. It may be--it may be.' + +'That's as may be,' said Puck. They heard him turn the hay. 'Why, your +hay is half hedge-brishings,' he said. 'You don't expect a horse to +thrive on oak and ash and thorn leaves, do you?' + +Ping-ping-ping went the bicycle bell round the corner. Nurse was coming +back from the mill. + +'Is it all right?' Una called. + +'All quite right,' Nurse called back. 'They're to be christened next +Sunday.' + +'What? What?' They both leaned forward across the half-door. It could +not have been properly fastened, for it opened, and tilted them out with +hay and leaves sticking all over them. + +'Come on! We must get those two twins' names,' said Una, and they +charged uphill shouting over the hedge, till Nurse slowed up and told +them. When they returned, old Middenboro had got out of his stall, and +they spent a lively ten minutes chasing him in again by starlight. + + + + +'Our Fathers of Old' + + + Excellent herbs had our fathers of old-- + Excellent herbs to ease their pain-- + Alexanders and Marigold, + Eyebright, Orris, and Elecampane, + Basil, Rocket, Valerian, Rue, + (Almost singing themselves they run) + Vervain, Dittany, Call-me-to-you-- + Cowslip, Melilot, Rose of the Sun. + Anything green that grew out of the mould + Was an excellent herb to our fathers of old. + + Wonderful tales had our fathers of old-- + Wonderful tales of the herbs and the stars-- + The Sun was Lord of the Marigold, + Basil and Rocket belonged to Mars. + Pat as a sum in division it goes-- + (Every plant had a star bespoke)-- + Who but Venus should govern the Rose? + Who but Jupiter own the Oak? + Simply and gravely the facts are told + In the wonderful books of our fathers of old. + + Wonderful little, when all is said, + Wonderful little our fathers knew. + Half their remedies cured you dead-- + Most of their teaching was quite untrue-- + 'Look at the stars when a patient is ill, + (Dirt has nothing to do with disease,) + Bleed and blister as much as you will, + Blister and bleed him as oft as you please.' + Whence enormous and manifold + Errors were made by our fathers of old. + + Yet when the sickness was sore in the land, + And neither planet nor herb assuaged, + They took their lives in their lancet-hand + And, oh, what a wonderful war they waged! + Yes, when the crosses were chalked on the door-- + Yes, when the terrible dead-cart rolled, + Excellent courage our fathers bore-- + Excellent heart had our fathers of old. + Not too learned, but nobly bold, + Into the fight went our fathers of old. + + If it be certain, as Galen says, + And sage Hippocrates holds as much-- + 'That those afflicted by doubts and dismays + Are mightily helped by a dead man's touch,' + Then, be good to us, stars above! + Then, be good to us, herbs below! + We are afflicted by what we can prove; + We are distracted by what we know-- + So--ah, so! + Down from your Heaven or up from your mould, + Send us the hearts of our fathers of old! + + + + +SIMPLE SIMON + + + + +The Thousandth Man + + + One man in a thousand, Solomon says, + Will stick more close than a brother. + And it's worth while seeking him half your days + If you find him before the other. + Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend + on what the world sees in you, + But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend + With the whole round world agin you. + + 'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show + Will settle the finding for 'ee. + Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go + By your looks or your acts or your glory. + But if he finds you and you find him, + The rest of the world don't matter; + For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim + With you in any water. + + You can use his purse with no more shame + Than he uses yours for his spendings; + And laugh and mention it just the same + As though there had been no lendings. + Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call + For silver and gold in their dealings; + But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all, + Because you can show him your feelings! + + His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right, + In season or out of season. + Stand up and back it in all men's sight-- + With that for your only reason! + Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide + The shame or mocking or laughter, + But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side + To the gallows-foot--and after! + + + + +Simple Simon + + +Cattiwow came down the steep lane with his five-horse timber-tug. He +stopped by the wood-lump at the back gate to take off the brakes. His +real name was Brabon, but the first time the children met him, years and +years ago, he told them he was 'carting wood,' and it sounded so exactly +like 'cattiwow' that they never called him anything else. + +'HI!' Una shouted from the top of the wood-lump, where they had been +watching the lane. 'What are you doing? Why weren't we told?' + +'They've just sent for me,' Cattiwow answered. 'There's a middlin' big +log stacked in the dirt at Rabbit Shaw, and'--he flicked his whip back +along the line--'so they've sent for us all.' + +Dan and Una threw themselves off the wood-lump almost under black +Sailor's nose. Cattiwow never let them ride the big beam that makes +the body of the timber-tug, but they hung on behind while their teeth +thuttered. + +The Wood road beyond the brook climbs at once into the woods, and you +see all the horses' backs rising, one above another, like moving stairs. +Cattiwow strode ahead in his sackcloth woodman's petticoat, belted at +the waist with a leather strap; and when he turned and grinned, his red +lips showed under his sackcloth-coloured beard. His cap was sackcloth +too, with a flap behind, to keep twigs and bark out of his neck. He +navigated the tug among pools of heather-water that splashed in their +faces, and through clumps of young birches that slashed at their legs, +and when they hit an old toadstooled stump, they never knew whether it +would give way in showers of rotten wood, or jar them back again. + +At the top of Rabbit Shaw half-a-dozen men and a team of horses stood +round a forty-foot oak log in a muddy hollow. The ground about was +poached and stoached with sliding hoofmarks, and a wave of dirt was +driven up in front of the butt. + +'What did you want to bury her for this way?' said Cattiwow. He took his +broad-axe and went up the log tapping it. + +'She's sticked fast,' said 'Bunny' Lewknor, who managed the other team. + +Cattiwow unfastened the five wise horses from the tug. They cocked their +ears forward, looked, and shook themselves. + +'I believe Sailor knows,' Dan whispered to Una. + +'He do,' said a man behind them. He was dressed in flour sacks like the +others, and he leaned on his broad-axe, but the children, who knew all +the wood-gangs, knew he was a stranger. In his size and oily hairiness +he might have been Bunny Lewknor's brother, except that his brown eyes +were as soft as a spaniel's, and his rounded black beard, beginning +close up under them, reminded Una of the walrus in 'The Walrus and the +Carpenter.' + +'Don't he justabout know?' he said shyly, and shifted from one foot to +the other. + +'Yes. "What Cattiwow can't get out of the woods must have roots growing +to her."' Dan had heard old Hobden say this a few days before. + +At that minute Puck pranced up, picking his way through the pools of +black water in the ling. + +'Look out!' cried Una, jumping forward. 'He'll see you, Puck!' + +'Me and Mus' Robin are pretty middlin' well acquainted,' the man +answered with a smile that made them forget all about walruses. + +'This is Simon Cheyneys,' Puck began, and cleared his throat. +'Shipbuilder of Rye Port; burgess of the said town, and the only--' + +'Oh, look! Look ye! That's a knowing one,' said the man. + +Cattiwow had fastened his team to the thin end of the log, and was +moving them about with his whip till they stood at right angles to it, +heading downhill. Then he grunted. The horses took the strain, beginning +with Sailor next the log, like a tug-of-war team, and dropped almost to +their knees. The log shifted a nail's breadth in the clinging dirt, with +the noise of a giant's kiss. + +'You're getting her!' Simon Cheyneys slapped his knee. 'Hing on! Hing +on, lads, or she'll master ye! Ah!' + +Sailor's left hind hoof had slipped on a heather-tuft. One of the men +whipped off his sack apron and spread it down. They saw Sailor feel for +it, and recover. Still the log hung, and the team grunted in despair. + +'Hai!' shouted Cattiwow, and brought his dreadful whip twice across +Sailor's loins with the crack of a shot-gun. The horse almost screamed +as he pulled that extra last ounce which he did not know was in him. +The thin end of the log left the dirt and rasped on dry gravel. The butt +ground round like a buffalo in his wallow. Quick as an axe-cut, Lewknor +snapped on his five horses, and sliding, trampling, jingling, and +snorting, they had the whole thing out on the heather. + +'Dat's the very first time I've knowed you lay into Sailor--to hurt +him,' said Lewknor. + +'It is,' said Cattiwow, and passed his hand over the two wheals. 'But +I'd ha' laid my own brother open at that pinch. Now we'll twitch her +down the hill a piece--she lies just about right--and get her home by +the low road. My team'll do it, Bunny; you bring the tug along. Mind +out!' + +He spoke to the horses, who tightened the chains. The great log half +rolled over, and slowly drew itself out of sight downhill, followed by +the wood-gang and the timber-tug. In half a minute there was nothing to +see but the deserted hollow of the torn-up dirt, the birch undergrowth +still shaking, and the water draining back into the hoof-prints. + +'Ye heard him?' Simon Cheyneys asked. 'He cherished his horse, but he'd +ha' laid him open in that pinch.' + +'Not for his own advantage,' said Puck quickly. ''Twas only to shift the +log.' + +'I reckon every man born of woman has his log to shift in the world--if +so be you're hintin' at any o' Frankie's doings. He never hit beyond +reason or without reason,' said Simon. + +'I never said a word against Frankie,' Puck retorted, with a wink at the +children. 'An' if I did, do it lie in your mouth to contest my say-so, +seeing how you--' + +'Why don't it lie in my mouth, seeing I was the first which knowed +Frankie for all he was?' The burly sack-clad man puffed down at cool +little Puck. + +'Yes, and the first which set out to poison him--Frankie--on the high +seas--' + +Simon's angry face changed to a sheepish grin. He waggled his immense +hands, but Puck stood off and laughed mercilessly. + +'But let me tell you, Mus' Robin,'he pleaded. + +'I've heard the tale. Tell the children here. Look, Dan! Look, +Una!'---Puck's straight brown finger levelled like an arrow. 'There's +the only man that ever tried to poison Sir Francis Drake!' + +'Oh, Mus' Robin! 'Tidn't fair. You've the 'vantage of us all in your +upbringin's by hundreds o' years. Stands to nature you know all the +tales against every one.' + +He turned his soft eyes so helplessly on Una that she cried, 'Stop +ragging him, Puck! You know he didn't really.' + +'I do. But why are you so sure, little maid?' 'Because--because he +doesn't look like it,' said Una stoutly. + +'I thank you,' said Simon to Una. 'I--I was always trustable-like +with children if you let me alone, you double handful o' mischief.' He +pretended to heave up his axe on Puck; and then his shyness overtook him +afresh. + +'Where did you know Sir Francis Drake?' said Dan, not liking being +called a child. + +'At Rye Port, to be sure,' said Simon, and seeing Dan's bewilderment, +repeated it. + +'Yes, but look here,'said Dan. '"Drake he was a Devon man." The song +says so.' + +'"And ruled the Devon seas,"' Una went on. 'That's what I was +thinking--if you don't mind.' + +Simon Cheyneys seemed to mind very much indeed, for he swelled in +silence while Puck laughed. + +'Hutt!' he burst out at last, 'I've heard that talk too. If you listen +to them West Country folk, you'll listen to a pack o' lies. I believe +Frankie was born somewhere out west among the Shires, but his father +had to run for it when Frankie was a baby, because the neighbours was +wishful to kill him, d'ye see? He run to Chatham, old Parson Drake did, +an' Frankie was brought up in a old hulks of a ship moored in the Medway +river, same as it might ha' been the Rother. Brought up at sea, you +might say, before he could walk on land--nigh Chatham in Kent. And ain't +Kent back-door to Sussex? And don't that make Frankie Sussex? O' course +it do. Devon man! Bah! Those West Country boats they're always fishin' +in other folks' water.' + +'I beg your pardon,' said Dan. 'I'm sorry. + +'No call to be sorry. You've been misled. I met Frankie at Rye Port when +my Uncle, that was the shipbuilder there, pushed me off his wharf-edge +on to Frankie's ship. Frankie had put in from Chatham with his rudder +splutted, and a man's arm--Moon's that 'ud be--broken at the tiller. +"Take this boy aboard an' drown him," says my Uncle, "and I'll mend your +rudder-piece for love." + +'What did your Uncle want you drowned for?'said Una. + +'That was only his fashion of say-so, same as Mus' Robin. I'd a +foolishness in my head that ships could be builded out of iron. +Yes--iron ships! I'd made me a liddle toy one of iron plates beat out +thin--and she floated a wonder! But my Uncle, bein' a burgess of Rye, +and a shipbuilder, he 'prenticed me to Frankie in the fetchin' trade, to +cure this foolishness.' + +'What was the fetchin' trade?' Dan interrupted. + +'Fetchin' poor Flemishers and Dutchmen out o' the Low Countries into +England. The King o' Spain, d'ye see, he was burnin' 'em in those parts, +for to make 'em Papishers, so Frankie he fetched 'em away to our parts, +and a risky trade it was. His master wouldn't never touch it while he +lived, but he left his ship to Frankie when he died, and Frankie turned +her into this fetchin' trade. Outrageous cruel hard work--on besom-black +nights bulting back and forth off they Dutch roads with shoals on +all sides, and having to hark out for the frish-frish-frish-like of a +Spanish galliwopses' oars creepin' up on ye. Frankie 'ud have the tiller +and Moon he'd peer forth at the bows, our lantern under his skirts, till +the boat we was lookin' for 'ud blurt up out o' the dark, and we'd lay +hold and haul aboard whoever 'twas--man, woman, or babe--an' round we'd +go again, the wind bewling like a kite in our riggin's, and they'd drop +into the hold and praise God for happy deliverance till they was all +sick. + +'I had nigh a year at it, an' we must have fetched off--oh, a hundred +pore folk, I reckon. Outrageous bold, too, Frankie growed to be. +Outrageous cunnin' he was. Once we was as near as nothin' nipped by a +tall ship off Tergoes Sands in a snowstorm. She had the wind of us, and +spooned straight before it, shootin' all bow guns. Frankie fled inshore +smack for the beach, till he was atop of the first breakers. Then he +hove his anchor out, which nigh tore our bows off, but it twitched us +round end-for-end into the wind, d'ye see, an' we clawed off them sands +like a drunk man rubbin' along a tavern bench. When we could see, the +Spanisher was laid flat along in the breakers with the snows whitening +on his wet belly. He thought he could go where Frankie went.' + +'What happened to the crew?' said Una. + +'We didn't stop,' Simon answered. 'There was a very liddle new baby +in our hold, and the mother she wanted to get to some dry bed middlin' +quick. We runned into Dover, and said nothing.' + +'Was Sir Francis Drake very much pleased?' 'Heart alive, maid, he'd +no head to his name in those days. He was just a outrageous, valiant, +crop-haired, tutt-mouthed boy, roarin' up an' down the narrer seas, with +his beard not yet quilted out. He made a laughing-stock of everything +all day, and he'd hold our lives in the bight of his arm all the +besom-black night among they Dutch sands; and we'd ha' jumped overside +to behove him any one time, all of us.' + +'Then why did you try to poison him?' Una asked wickedly, and Simon hung +his head like a shy child. + +'Oh, that was when he set me to make a pudden, for because our cook was +hurted. I done my uttermost, but she all fetched adrift like in the bag, +an' the more I biled the bits of her, the less she favoured any fashion +o' pudden. Moon he chawed and chammed his piece, and Frankie chawed and +chammed his'n, and--no words to it--he took me by the ear an' walked +me out over the bow-end, an' him an' Moon hove the pudden at me on +the bowsprit gub by gub, something cruel hard!' Simon rubbed his hairy +cheek. + +'"Nex' time you bring me anything," says Frankie, "you bring me +cannon-shot an' I'll know what I'm getting." But as for poisonin'--' He +stopped, the children laughed so. + +'Of course you didn't,' said Una. 'Oh, Simon, we do like you!' + +'I was always likeable with children.' His smile crinkled up through the +hair round his eyes. 'Simple Simon they used to call me through our yard +gates.' + +'Did Sir Francis mock you?' Dan asked. + +'Ah, no. He was gentle-born. Laugh he did--he was always laughing--but +not so as to hurt a feather. An' I loved 'en. I loved 'en before England +knew 'en, or Queen Bess she broke his heart.' + +'But he hadn't really done anything when you knew him, had he?' Una +insisted. 'Armadas and those things, I mean.' + +Simon pointed to the scars and scrapes left by Cattiwow's great log. +'You tell me that that good ship's timber never done nothing against +winds and weathers since her up-springing, and I'll confess ye that +young Frankie never done nothing neither. Nothing? He adventured and +suffered and made shift on they Dutch sands as much in any one month +as ever he had occasion for to do in a half-year on the high seas +afterwards. An' what was his tools? A coaster boat--a liddle box o' +walty plankin' an' some few fathom feeble rope held together an' made +able by him sole. He drawed our spirits up In our bodies same as a +chimney-towel draws a fire. 'Twas in him, and it comed out all times +and shapes.' 'I wonder did he ever 'magine what he was going to be? Tell +himself stories about it?' said Dan with a flush. + +'I expect so. We mostly do--even when we're grown. But bein' Frankie, he +took good care to find out beforehand what his fortune might be. Had I +rightly ought to tell 'em this piece?' Simon turned to Puck, who nodded. + +'My Mother, she was just a fair woman, but my Aunt, her sister, she had +gifts by inheritance laid up in her,' Simon began. + +'Oh, that'll never do,' cried Puck, for the children stared blankly. 'Do +you remember what Robin promised to the Widow Whitgift so long as her +blood and get lasted?' [See 'Dymchurch Flit' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.] +'Yes. There was always to be one of them that could see farther through +a millstone than most,' Dan answered promptly. + +'Well, Simon's Aunt's mother,' said Puck slowly, 'married the Widow's +blind son on the Marsh, and Simon's Aunt was the one chosen to see +farthest through millstones. Do you understand?' + +'That was what I was gettin' at,' said Simon, 'but you're so desperate +quick. My Aunt she knew what was comin' to people. My Uncle being a +burgess of Rye, he counted all such things odious, and my Aunt she +couldn't be got to practise her gifts hardly at all, because it hurted +her head for a week after-wards; but when Frankie heard she had 'em, +he was all for nothin' till she foretold on him--till she looked in +his hand to tell his fortune, d'ye see? One time we was at Rye she come +aboard with my other shirt and some apples, and he fair beazled the life +out of her about it. + +'"Oh, you'll be twice wed, and die childless," she says, and pushes his +hand away. + +'"That's the woman's part," he says. "What'll come to me-to me?" an' he +thrusts it back under her nose. + +'"Gold--gold, past belief or counting," she says. "Let go o' me, lad." + +'"Sink the gold!" he says. "What'll I do, mother?" He coaxed her like no +woman could well withstand. I've seen him with 'em--even when they were +sea-sick. + +'"If you will have it," she says at last, "you shall have it. You'll do a +many things, and eating and drinking with a dead man beyond the world's +end will be the least of them. For you'll open a road from the East +unto the West, and back again, and you'll bury your heart with your best +friend by that road-side, and the road you open none shall shut so long +as you're let lie quiet in your grave." + + +[The old lady's prophecy is in a fair way to come true, for now the +Panama Canal is finished, one end of it opens into the very bay where +Sir Francis Drake was buried. So ships are taken through the Canal, and +the road round Cape Horn which Sir Francis opened is very little used.] + + +'"And if I'm not?" he says. + +'"Why, then," she says, "Sim's iron ships will be sailing on dry land. +Now ha' done with this foolishness. Where's Sim's shirt?" + +'He couldn't fetch no more out of her, and when we come up from the +cabin, he stood mazed-like by the tiller, playing with a apple. '"My +Sorrow!" says my Aunt; "d'ye see that? The great world lying in his +hand, liddle and round like a apple." + +'"Why, 'tis one you gived him," I says. + +'"To be sure," she says. "'Tis just a apple," and she went ashore with +her hand to her head. It always hurted her to show her gifts. + +Him and me puzzled over that talk plenty. It sticked in his mind quite +extravagant. The very next time we slipped out for some fetchin' trade, +we met Mus' Stenning's boat over by Calais sands; and he warned us that +the Spanishers had shut down all their Dutch ports against us English, +and their galliwopses was out picking up our boats like flies off hogs' +backs. Mus' Stenning he runs for Shoreham, but Frankie held on a piece, +knowin' that Mus Stenning was jealous of our good trade. Over by Dunkirk +a great gor-bellied Spanisher, with the Cross on his sails, came rampin' +at us. We left him. We left him all they bare seas to conquest in. + +'"Looks like this road was going to be shut pretty soon," says Frankie, +humourin' her at the tiller. "I'll have to open that other one your Aunt +foretold of." + +'"The Spanisher's crowdin' down on us middlin' quick," I says. "No odds," +says Frankie, "he'll have the inshore tide against him. Did your Aunt +say I was to be quiet in my grave for ever?" + +'"Till my iron ships sailed dry land," I says. + +'"That's foolishness," he says. "Who cares where Frankie Drake makes a +hole in the water now or twenty years from now?" + +'The Spanisher kept muckin' on more and more canvas. I told him so. + +'"He's feelin' the tide," was all he says. "If he was among Tergoes +Sands with this wind, we'd be picking his bones proper. I'd give my +heart to have all their tall ships there some night before a north gale, +and me to windward. There'd be gold in My hands then. Did your Aunt say +she saw the world settin' in my hand, Sim?" + +'"Yes, but 'twas a apple," says I, and he laughed like he always did +at me. "Do you ever feel minded to jump overside and be done with +everything?" he asks after a while. + +'"No. What water comes aboard is too wet as 'tis," I says. "The +Spanisher's going about." + +'"I told you," says he, never looking back. "He'll give us the Pope's +Blessing as he swings. Come down off that rail. There's no knowin' where +stray shots may hit." So I came down off the rail, and leaned against +it, and the Spanisher he ruffled round in the wind, and his port-lids +opened all red inside. + +'"Now what'll happen to my road if they don't let me lie quiet in my +grave?" he says. "Does your Aunt mean there's two roads to be found and +kept open--or what does she mean? I don't like that talk about t'other +road. D'you believe in your iron ships, Sim?" + +'He knowed I did, so I only nodded, and he nodded back again. '"Anybody +but me 'ud call you a fool, Sim," he says. "Lie down. Here comes the +Pope's Blessing!" + +'The Spanisher gave us his broadside as he went about. They all fell +short except one that smack-smooth hit the rail behind my back, an' I +felt most won'erful cold. + +'"Be you hit anywhere to signify?" he says. "Come over to me." + +'"O Lord, Mus' Drake," I says, "my legs won't move," and that was the +last I spoke for months.' + +'Why? What had happened?' cried Dan and Una together. + +'The rail had jarred me in here like.' Simon reached behind him +clumsily. 'From my shoulders down I didn't act no shape. Frankie carried +me piggyback to my Aunt's house, and I lay bed-rid and tongue-tied while +she rubbed me day and night, month in and month out. She had faith in +rubbing with the hands. P'raps she put some of her gifts into it, too. +Last of all, something loosed itself in my pore back, and lo! I was +whole restored again, but kitten-feeble. + +'"Where's Frankie?" I says, thinking I'd been a longish while abed. + +'"Down-wind amongst the Dons--months ago," says my Aunt. + +'"When can I go after 'en?" I says. + +'"Your duty's to your town and trade now," says she. "Your Uncle he +died last Michaelmas and he've left you and me the yard. So no more iron +ships, mind ye." + +'"What?" I says. "And you the only one that beleft in 'em!" + + +'"Maybe I do still," she says, "but I'm a woman before I'm a Whitgift, +and wooden ships is what England needs us to build. I lay on ye to do +so." + +'That's why I've never teched iron since that day--not to build a +toy ship of. I've never even drawed a draft of one for my pleasure of +evenings.' Simon smiled down on them all. 'Whitgift blood is terrible +resolute--on the she-side,'said Puck. + +'Didn't You ever see Sir Francis Drake again?'Dan asked. + +'With one thing and another, and my being made a burgess of Rye, I never +clapped eyes on him for the next twenty years. Oh, I had the news of +his mighty doings the world over. They was the very same bold, cunning +shifts and passes he'd worked with beforetimes off they Dutch sands, +but, naturally, folk took more note of them. When Queen Bess made him +knight, he sent my Aunt a dried orange stuffed with spiceries to smell +to. She cried outrageous on it. She blamed herself for her foretellings, +having set him on his won'erful road; but I reckon he'd ha' gone that +way all withstanding. Curious how close she foretelled it! The world in +his hand like an apple, an' he burying his best friend, Mus' Doughty--' + +'Never mind for Mus' Doughty,' Puck interrupted. 'Tell us where you met +Sir Francis next.' + +'Oh, ha! That was the year I was made a burgess of Rye--the same year +which King Philip sent his ships to take England without Frankie's +leave.' + +'The Armada!' said Dan contentedly. 'I was hoping that would come.' + +'I knowed Frankie would never let 'em smell London smoke, but plenty +good men in Rye was two-three minded about the upshot. 'Twas the noise +of the gun-fire tarrified us. The wind favoured it our way from off +behind the Isle of Wight. It made a mutter like, which growed and +growed, and by the end of a week women was shruckin' in the streets. +Then they come slidderin' past Fairlight in a great smoky pat vambrished +with red gun-fire, and our ships flyin' forth and duckin' in again. The +smoke-pat sliddered over to the French shore, so I knowed Frankie was +edgin' the Spanishers toward they Dutch sands where he was master. I +says to my Aunt, "The smoke's thinnin' out. I lay Frankie's just about +scrapin' his hold for a few last rounds shot. 'Tis time for me to go." + +'"Never in them clothes," she says. "Do on the doublet I bought you to +be made burgess in, and don't you shame this day." + +'So I mucked it on, and my chain, and my stiffed Dutch breeches and all. + +'"I be comin', too," she says from her chamber, and forth she come +pavisandin' like a peacock--stuff, ruff, stomacher and all. She was a +notable woman.' + +'But how did you go? You haven't told us,' said Una. + +'In my own ship--but half-share was my Aunt's. In the ANTONY OF RYE, to +be sure; and not empty-handed. I'd been loadin' her for three days +with the pick of our yard. We was ballasted on cannon-shot of all three +sizes; and iron rods and straps for his carpenters; and a nice passel of +clean three-inch oak planking and hide breech-ropes for his cannon, and +gubs of good oakum, and bolts o' canvas, and all the sound rope in the +yard. What else could I ha' done? I knowed what he'd need most after a +week's such work. I'm a shipbuilder, little maid. + +'We'd a fair slant o' wind off Dungeness, and we crept on till it fell +light airs and puffed out. The Spanishers was all in a huddle over by +Calais, and our ships was strawed about mending 'emselves like dogs +lickin' bites. Now and then a Spanisher would fire from a low port, and +the ball 'ud troll across the flat swells, but both sides was finished +fightin' for that tide. + +'The first ship we foreslowed on, her breastworks was crushed in, an' +men was shorin' 'em up. She said nothing. The next was a black pinnace, +his pumps clackin' middling quick, and he said nothing. But the third, +mending shot-holes, he spoke out plenty. I asked him where Mus' Drake +might be, and a shiny-suited man on the poop looked down into us, and +saw what we carried. + +'"Lay alongside you!" he says. "We'll take that all." + +'"'Tis for Mus' Drake," I says, keeping away lest his size should lee +the wind out of my sails. + +'"Hi! Ho! Hither! We're Lord High Admiral of England! Come alongside, or +we'll hang ye," he says. + +''Twas none of my affairs who he was if he wasn't Frankie, and while he +talked so hot I slipped behind a green-painted ship with her top-sides +splintered. We was all in the middest of 'em then. + +'"Hi! Hoi!" the green ship says. "Come alongside, honest man, and I'll +buy your load. I'm Fenner that fought the seven Portugals--clean out of +shot or bullets. Frankie knows me." + +'"Ay, but I don't," I says, and I slacked nothing. + +'He was a masterpiece. Seein' I was for goin' on, he hails a Bridport +hoy beyond us and shouts, "George! Oh, George! Wing that duck. He's +fat!" An' true as we're all here, that squatty Bridport boat rounds to +acrost our bows, intendin' to stop us by means o' shooting. + +'My Aunt looks over our rail. "George," she says, "you finish with your +enemies afore you begin on your friends." + +'Him that was laying the liddle swivel-gun at us sweeps off his hat an' +calls her Queen Bess, and asks if she was selling liquor to pore dry +sailors. My Aunt answered him quite a piece. She was a notable woman. + +'Then he come up--his long pennant trailing overside--his waistcloths +and netting tore all to pieces where the Spanishers had grappled, and +his sides black-smeared with their gun-blasts like candle-smoke in a +bottle. We hooked on to a lower port and hung. + +'"Oh, Mus' Drake! Mus' Drake!" I calls up. + +'He stood on the great anchor cathead, his shirt open to the middle, and +his face shining like the sun. + +'"Why, Sim!" he says. Just like that--after twenty year! "Sim," he says, +"what brings you?" + +'"Pudden," I says, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. + +'"You told me to bring cannon-shot next time, an' I've brought 'em." + +'He saw we had. He ripped out a fathom and a half o' brimstone Spanish, +and he swung down on our rail, and he kissed me before all his fine +young captains. His men was swarming out of the lower ports ready to +unload us. When he saw how I'd considered all his likely wants, he +kissed me again. + +'"Here's a friend that sticketh closer than a brother!" he says. +"Mistress," he says to my Aunt, "all you foretold on me was true. I've +opened that road from the East to the West, and I've buried my heart +beside it." + +'"I know," she says. "That's why I be come." + +'"But ye never foretold this"; he points to both they great fleets. + +'"This don't seem to me to make much odds compared to what happens to a +man," she says. "Do it?" + +'"Certain sure a man forgets to remember when he's proper mucked up with +work. Sim," he says to me, "we must shift every living Spanisher round +Dunkirk corner on to our Dutch sands before morning. The wind'll come +out of the North after this calm--same as it used--and then they're our +meat." + +'"Amen," says I. "I've brought you what I could scutchel up of odds and +ends. Be you hit anywhere to signify?" + +'"Oh, our folk'll attend to all that when we've time," he says. He turns +to talk to my Aunt, while his men flew the stuff out of our hold. I +think I saw old Moon amongst 'em, but he was too busy to more than +nod like. Yet the Spanishers was going to prayers with their bells and +candles before we'd cleaned out the ANTONY. Twenty-two ton o' useful +stuff I'd fetched him. '"Now, Sim," says my Aunt, "no more devouring of +Mus' Drake's time. He's sending us home in the Bridport hoy. I want to +speak to them young springalds again." + +'"But here's our ship all ready and swept," I says. + +'"Swep' an' garnished," says Frankie. "I'm going to fill her with devils +in the likeness o' pitch and sulphur. We must shift the Dons round +Dunkirk corner, and if shot can't do it, we'll send down fireships." + +'"I've given him my share of the ANTONY," says my Aunt. "What do you +reckon to do about yours?" + +'"She offered it," said Frankie, laughing. + +'"She wouldn't have if I'd overheard her," I says; "because I'd have +offered my share first." Then I told him how the ANTONY's sails was best +trimmed to drive before the wind, and seeing he was full of occupations +we went acrost to that Bridport hoy, and left him. + +'But Frankie was gentle-born, d'ye see, and that sort they never +overlook any folks' dues. + +'When the hoy passed under his stern, he stood bare-headed on the poop +same as if my Aunt had been his Queen, and his musicianers played "Mary +Ambree" on their silver trumpets quite a long while. Heart alive, little +maid! I never meaned to make you look sorrowful! + +'Bunny Lewknor in his sackcloth petticoats burst through the birch scrub +wiping his forehead. + +'We've got the stick to rights now! She've been a whole hatful o' +trouble. You come an' ride her home, Mus' Dan and Miss Una!' + +'They found the proud wood-gang at the foot of the slope, with the log +double-chained on the tug. + +'Cattiwow, what are you going to do with it?'said Dan, as they straddled +the thin part. + +'She's going down to Rye to make a keel for a Lowestoft fishin'-boat, +I've heard. Hold tight!' + +'Cattiwow cracked his whip, and the great log dipped and tilted, and +leaned and dipped again, exactly like a stately ship upon the high seas. + + + + +Frankie's Trade + + + Old Horn to All Atlantic said: + (A-hay O! To me O!) + 'Now where did Frankie learn his trade? + For he ran me down with a three-reef mains'le.' + (All round the Horn!) + + Atlantic answered: 'Not from me! + You'd better ask the cold North Sea, + For he ran me down under all plain canvas.' + (All round the Horn!) + + The North Sea answered: 'He's my man, + For he came to me when he began-- + Frankie Drake in an open coaster. + (All round the Sands!) + + 'I caught him young and I used him sore, + So you never shall startle Frankie more, + Without capsizing Earth and her waters. + (All round the Sands!) + + 'I did not favour him at all, + I made him pull and I made him haul-- + And stand his trick with the common sailors. + (All round the Sands!) + + 'I froze him stiff and I fogged him blind, + And kicked him home with his road to find + By what he could see of a three-day snow-storm. + (All round the Sands!) + + 'I learned him his trade o' winter nights, + 'Twixt Mardyk Fort and Dunkirk lights + On a five-knot tide with the forts a-firing. + (All round the Sands!) + + 'Before his beard began to shoot, + I showed him the length of the Spaniard's foot-- + And I reckon he clapped the boot on it later. + (All round the Sands!) + 'If there's a risk which you can make + That's worse than he was used to take + Nigh every week in the way of his business; + (All round the Sands!) + + 'If there's a trick that you can try + Which he hasn't met in time gone by, + Not once or twice, but ten times over; + (All round the Sands!) + + 'If you can teach him aught that's new, + (A-hay O! To me O!) + I'll give you Bruges and Niewport too, + And the ten tall churches that stand between 'em.' + Storm along, my gallant Captains! + (All round the Horn!) + + + + +THE TREE OF JUSTICE + + + + +The Ballad of Minepit Shaw + + + About the time that taverns shut + And men can buy no beer, + Two lads went up by the keepers' hut + To steal Lord Pelham's deer. + + Night and the liquor was in their heads-- + They laughed and talked no bounds, + Till they waked the keepers on their beds, + And the keepers loosed the hounds. + + They had killed a hart, they had killed a hind, + Ready to carry away, + When they heard a whimper down the wind + And they heard a bloodhound bay. + + They took and ran across the fern, + Their crossbows in their hand, + Till they met a man with a green lantern + That called and bade 'em stand. + + 'What are you doing, O Flesh and Blood, + And what's your foolish will, + That you must break into Minepit Wood + And wake the Folk of the Hill?' + + 'Oh, we've broke into Lord Pelham's park, + And killed Lord Pelham's deer, + And if ever you heard a little dog bark + You'll know why we come here!' + + 'We ask you let us go our way, + As fast as we can flee, + For if ever you heard a bloodhound bay, + You'll know how pressed we be.' + + 'Oh, lay your crossbows on the bank + And drop the knife from your hand, + And though the hounds are at your flank + I'll save you where you stand!' + They laid their crossbows on the bank, + They threw their knives in the wood, + And the ground before them opened and sank + And saved 'em where they stood. + 'Oh, what's the roaring in our ears + That strikes us well-nigh dumb?' + 'Oh, that is just how things appears + According as they come.' + + 'What are the stars before our eyes + That strike us well-nigh blind?' + 'Oh, that is just how things arise + According as you find.' + + 'And why's our bed so hard to the bones + Excepting where it's cold?' + 'Oh, that's because it is precious stones + Excepting where 'tis gold. + + 'Think it over as you stand + For I tell you without fail, + If you haven't got into Fairyland + You're not in Lewes Gaol.' + + All night long they thought of it, + And, come the dawn, they saw + They'd tumbled into a great old pit, + At the bottom of Minepit Shaw. + + And the keepers' hound had followed 'em close + And broke her neck in the fall; + So they picked up their knives and their cross-bows + And buried the dog. That's all. + + But whether the man was a poacher too + Or a Pharisee so bold-- + I reckon there's more things told than are true, + And more things true than are told. + + + + +The Tree of Justice + +It was a warm, dark winter day with the Sou'-West wind singing through +Dallington Forest, and the woods below the Beacon. The children set +out after dinner to find old Hobden, who had a three months' job in +the Rough at the back of Pound's Wood. He had promised to get them a +dormouse in its nest. The bright leaf Still clung to the beech coppice; +the long chestnut leaves lay orange on the ground, and the rides were +speckled with scarlet-lipped sprouting acorns. They worked their way by +their own short cuts to the edge of Pound's Wood, and heard a horse's +feet just as they came to the beech where Ridley the keeper hangs up the +vermin. The poor little fluffy bodies dangled from the branches--some +perfectly good, but most of them dried to twisted strips. + +'Three more owls,' said Dan, counting. 'Two stoats, four jays, and a +kestrel. That's ten since last week. Ridley's a beast.' + +'In my time this sort of tree bore heavier fruit.' Sir Richard +Dalyngridge reined up his grey horse, Swallow, in the ride behind them. +[This is the Norman knight they met the year before in PUCK OF POOK'S +HILL. See 'Young Men at the Manor,' 'The Knights of the Joyous Venture,' +and 'Old Men at Pevensey,' in that book.] 'What play do you make?'he +asked. + +'Nothing, Sir. We're looking for old Hobden,'Dan replied.'He promised to +get us a sleeper.' + +'Sleeper? A DORMEUSE, do you say?' + +'Yes, a dormouse, Sir.' 'I understand. I passed a woodman on the low +grounds. Come!' He wheeled up the ride again, and pointed through an +opening to the patch of beech-stubs, chestnut, hazel, and birch that +old Hobden would turn into firewood, hop-poles, pea-boughs, and +house-faggots before spring. The old man was as busy as a beaver. + +Something laughed beneath a thorn, and Puck stole out, his finger on his +lip. + +'Look!' he whispered. 'Along between the spindle-trees. Ridley has been +there this half-hour.' + +The children followed his point, and saw Ridley the keeper in an old dry +ditch, watching Hobden as a cat watches a mouse. + +'Huhh!' cried Una. 'Hobden always 'tends to his wires before breakfast. +He puts his rabbits into the faggots he's allowed to take home. He'll +tell us about 'em tomorrow.' + +'We had the same breed in my day,' Sir Richard replied, and moved off +quietly, Puck at his bridle, the children on either side between the +close-trimmed beech stuff. + +'What did you do to them?' said Dan, as they repassed Ridley's terrible +tree. + +'That!' Sir Richard jerked his head toward the dangling owls. + +'Not he!' said Puck. 'There was never enough brute Norman in you to hang +a man for taking a buck.' + +'I--I cannot abide to hear their widows screech. But why am I on +horseback while you are afoot?' He dismounted lightly, tapped Swallow +on the chest, so that the wise thing backed instead of turning in the +narrow ride, and put himself at the head of the little procession. He +walked as though all the woods belonged to him. 'I have often told my +friends,' he went on, 'that Red William the King was not the only Norman +found dead in a forest while he hunted.' + +'D'you mean William Rufus?'said Dan. + +'Yes,' said Puck, kicking a clump of red toad-stools off a dead log. + +'For example, there was a knight new from Normandy,' Sir Richard went +on, 'to whom Henry our King granted a manor in Kent near by. He chose +to hang his forester's son the day before a deer-hunt that he gave to +pleasure the King.' + +'Now when would that be?' said Puck, and scratched an ear thoughtfully. + +'The summer of the year King Henry broke his brother Robert of Normandy +at Tenchebrai fight. Our ships were even then at Pevensey loading for +the war.' + +'What happened to the knight?'Dan asked. + +'They found him pinned to an ash, three arrows through his leather coat. +I should have worn mail that day.' + +'And did you see him all bloody?'Dan continued. + +'Nay, I was with De Aquila at Pevensey, counting horseshoes, and +arrow-sheaves, and ale-barrels into the holds of the ships. The army +only waited for our King to lead them against Robert in Normandy, but +he sent word to De Aquila that he would hunt with him here before he set +out for France.' + +'Why did the King want to hunt so particularly?' Una demanded. + +'If he had gone straight to France after the Kentish knight was killed, +men would have said he feared being slain like the knight. It was +his duty to show himself debonair to his English people as it was De +Aquila's duty to see that he took no harm while he did it, But it was +a great burden! De Aquila, Hugh, and I ceased work on the ships, and +scoured all the Honour of the Eagle--all De Aquila's lands--to make a +fit, and, above all, a safe sport for our King. Look!' + +The ride twisted, and came out on the top of Pound's Hill Wood. Sir +Richard pointed to the swells of beautiful, dappled Dallington, that +showed like a woodcock's breast up the valley. 'Ye know the forest?' +said he. + +'You ought to see the bluebells there in Spring!' said Una. 'I have +seen,' said Sir Richard, gazing, and stretched out his hand. 'Hugh's +work and mine was first to move the deer gently from all parts into +Dallington yonder, and there to hold them till the King came. Next, we +must choose some three hundred beaters to drive the deer to the stands +within bowshot of the King. Here was our trouble! In the mellay of a +deer-drive a Saxon peasant and a Norman King may come over-close to each +other. The conquered do not love their conquerors all at once. So we +needed sure men, for whom their village or kindred would answer in life, +cattle, and land if any harm come to the King. Ye see?' + +'If one of the beaters shot the King,' said Puck, 'Sir Richard wanted to +be able to punish that man's village. Then the village would take care +to send a good man.' + +'So! So it was. But, lest our work should be too easy, the King had done +such a dread justice over at Salehurst, for the killing of the Kentish +knight (twenty-six men he hanged, as I heard), that our folk were half +mad with fear before we began. It is easier to dig out a badger gone to +earth than a Saxon gone dumb-sullen. And atop of their misery the +old rumour waked that Harold the Saxon was alive and would bring them +deliverance from us Normans. This has happened every autumn since +Santlache fight.' + +'But King Harold was killed at Hastings,'said Una. + +'So it was said, and so it was believed by us Normans, but our Saxons +always believed he would come again. That rumour did not make our work +any more easy.' + +Sir Richard strode on down the far slope of the wood, where the trees +thin out. It was fascinating to watch how he managed his long spurs +among the lumps of blackened ling. + +'But we did it!' he said. 'After all, a woman is as good as a man to +beat the woods, and the mere word that deer are afoot makes cripples and +crones young again. De Aquila laughed when Hugh told him over the list +of beaters. Half were women; and many of the rest were clerks--Saxon and +Norman priests. + +'Hugh and I had not time to laugh for eight days, till De Aquila, +as Lord of Pevensey, met our King and led him to the first +shooting-stand--by the Mill on the edge of the forest. Hugh and I--it +was no work for hot heads or heavy hands--lay with our beaters on the +skirts of Dallington to watch both them and the deer. When De Aquila's +great horn blew we went forward, a line half a league long. Oh, to see +the fat clerks, their gowns tucked up, puffing and roaring, and the +sober millers dusting the under-growth with their staves; and, like as +not, between them a Saxon wench, hand in hand with her man, shrilling +like a kite as she ran, and leaping high through the fern, all for joy +of the sport.' 'Ah! How! Ah! How! How-ah! Sa-how-ah!' Puck bellowed +without warning, and Swallow bounded forward, ears cocked, and nostrils +cracking. + +'Hal-lal-lal-lal-la-hai-ie!' Sir Richard answered in a high clear shout. + +The two voices joined in swooping circles of sound, and a heron rose out +of a red osier-bed below them, circling as though he kept time to the +outcry. Swallow quivered and swished his glorious tail. They stopped +together on the same note. + +A hoarse shout answered them across the bare woods. + +'That's old Hobden,'said Una. + +'Small blame to him. It is in his blood,' said Puck. 'Did your beaters +cry so, Sir Richard?' + +'My faith, they forgot all else. (Steady, Swallow, steady!) They forgot +where the King and his people waited to shoot. They followed the deer to +the very edge of the open till the first flight of wild arrows from the +stands flew fair over them. + +'I cried, "'Ware shot! 'Ware shot!" and a knot of young knights new from +Normandy, that had strayed away from the Grand Stand, turned about, and +in mere sport loosed off at our line shouting: "'Ware Santlache arrows! +'Ware Santlache arrows!" A jest, I grant you, but too sharp. One of our +beaters answered in Saxon: "'Ware New Forest arrows! 'Ware Red William's +arrow!" so I judged it time to end the jests, and when the boys saw my +old mail gown (for, to shoot with strangers I count the same as war), +they ceased shooting. So that was smoothed over, and we gave our beaters +ale to wash down their anger. They were excusable! We--they had +sweated to show our guests good sport, and our reward was a flight +of hunting-arrows which no man loves, and worse, a churl's jibe over +hard-fought, fair-lost Hastings fight. So, before the next beat, Hugh +and I assembled and called the beaters over by name, to steady them. The +greater part we knew, but among the Netherfield men I saw an old, old +man, in the dress of a pilgrim. + +'The Clerk of Netherfield said he was well known by repute for twenty +years as a witless man that journeyed without rest to all the shrines of +England. The old man sits, Saxon fashion, head between fists. We Normans +rest the chin on the left palm. '"Who answers for him?" said I. "If he +fails in his duty, who will pay his fine?" + +'"Who will pay my fine?" the pilgrim said. "I have asked that of all the +Saints in England these forty years, less three months and nine days! +They have not answered!" When he lifted his thin face I saw he was +one-eyed, and frail as a rush. '"Nay, but, Father," I said, "to whom +hast thou commended thyself-?" He shook his head, so I spoke in Saxon: +"Whose man art thou?" + +'"I think I have a writing from Rahere, the King's jester," said he +after a while. "I am, as I suppose, Rahere's man." + +'He pulled a writing from his scrip, and Hugh, coming up, read it. + +'It set out that the pilgrim was Rahere's man, and that Rahere was the +King's jester. There was Latin writ at the back. + +'"What a plague conjuration's here?" said Hugh, turning it over. +"Pum-quum-sum oc-occ. Magic?" + +'"Black Magic," said the Clerk of Netherfield (he had been a monk at +Battle). "They say Rahere is more of a priest than a fool and more of a +wizard than either. Here's Rahere's name writ, and there's Rahere's red +cockscomb mark drawn below for such as cannot read." He looked slyly at +me. + +'"Then read it," said I, "and show thy learning." He was a vain little +man, and he gave it us after much mouthing. + +'"The charm, which I think is from Virgilius the Sorcerer, says: 'When +thou art once dead, and Minos' (which is a heathen judge) 'has doomed +thee, neither cunning, nor speechcraft, nor good works will restore +thee!' A terrible thing! It denies any mercy to a man's soul!" + +'"Does it serve?" said the pilgrim, plucking at Hugh's cloak. "Oh, man +of the King's blood, does it cover me?" + +'Hugh was of Earl Godwin's blood, and all Sussex knew it, though no +Saxon dared call him kingly in a Norman's hearing. There can be but one +King. + +'"It serves," said Hugh. "But the day will be long and hot. Better rest +here. We go forward now." + +'"No, I will keep with thee, my kinsman," he answered like a child. He +was indeed childish through great age. + +'The line had not moved a bowshot when De Aquila's great horn blew for a +halt, and soon young Fulke--our false Fulke's son--yes, the imp that +lit the straw in Pevensey Castle [See 'Old Men at Pevensey' in PUCK OF +POOK'S HILL.]--came thundering up a woodway. + +'"Uncle," said he (though he was a man grown, he called me Uncle), +"those young Norman fools who shot at you this morn are saying that +your beaters cried treason against the King. It has come to Harry's long +ears, and he bids you give account of it. There are heavy fines in his +eye, but I am with you to the hilt, Uncle!" 'When the boy had fled back, +Hugh said to me: "It was Rahere's witless man that cried, ''Ware Red +William's arrow!' I heard him, and so did the Clerk of Netherfield." + +'"Then Rahere must answer to the King for his man," said I. "Keep him by +you till I send," and I hastened down. + +'The King was with De Aquila in the Grand Stand above Welansford down in +the valley yonder. His Court--knights and dames--lay glittering on the +edge of the glade. I made my homage, and Henry took it coldly. '"How +came your beaters to shout threats against me?" said he. + +'"The tale has grown," I answered. "One old witless man cried out, +''Ware Red William's arrow,' when the young knights shot at our line. We +had two beaters hit." + +'"I will do justice on that man," he answered. "Who is his master?" + +'"He's Rahere's man," said I. + +'"Rahere's?" said Henry. "Has my fool a fool?" + +'I heard the bells jingle at the back of the stand, and a red leg waved +over it; then a black one. So, very slowly, Rahere the King's jester +straddled the edge of the planks, and looked down on us, rubbing his +chin. Loose-knit, with cropped hair, and a sad priest's face, under his +cockscomb cap, that he could twist like a strip of wet leather. His eyes +were hollow-set. + +'"Nay, nay, Brother," said he. "If I suffer you to keep your fool, you +must e'en suffer me to keep mine." + +'This he delivered slowly into the King's angry face! My faith, a King's +jester must be bolder than lions! + +'"Now we will judge the matter," said Rahere. "Let these two brave +knights go hang my fool because he warned King Henry against running +after Saxon deer through woods full of Saxons. 'Faith, Brother, if thy +Brother, Red William, now among the Saints as we hope, had been timely +warned against a certain arrow in New Forest, one fool of us four would +not be crowned fool of England this morning. Therefore, hang the fool's +fool, knights!" 'Mark the fool's cunning! Rahere had himself given us +order to hang the man. No King dare confirm a fool's command to such a +great baron as De Aquila; and the helpless King knew it. + +'"What? No hanging?" said Rahere, after a silence. "A' God's Gracious +Name, kill something, then! Go forward with the hunt!" + +'He splits his face ear to ear in a yawn like a fish-pond. "Henry," says +he, "the next time I sleep, do not pester me with thy fooleries." Then +he throws himself out of sight behind the back of the stand. + +'I have seen courage with mirth in De Aquila and Hugh, but stark mad +courage of Rahere's sort I had never even guessed at.' + +'What did the King say?' cried Dan. + +'He had opened his mouth to speak, when young Fulke, who had come into +the stand with us, laughed, and, boy-like, once begun, could not check +himself. He kneeled on the instant for pardon, but fell sideways, +crying: "His legs! Oh, his long, waving red legs as he went backward!" + +'Like a storm breaking, our grave King laughed,--stamped and reeled +with laughter till the stand shook. So, like a storm, this strange thing +passed! + +'He wiped his eyes, and signed to De Aquila to let the drive come on. + +'When the deer broke, we were pleased that the King shot from the +shelter of the stand, and did not ride out after the hurt beasts as Red +William would have done. Most vilely his knights and barons shot! + +'De Aquila kept me beside him, and I saw no more of Hugh till evening. +We two had a little hut of boughs by the camp, where I went to wash me +before the great supper, and in the dusk I heard Hugh on the couch. + +'"Wearied, Hugh?" said I. + +'"A little," he says. "I have driven Saxon deer all day for a Norman +King, and there is enough of Earl Godwin's blood left in me to sicken at +the work. Wait awhile with the torch." + +'I waited then, and I thought I heard him sob.' + +'Poor Hugh! Was he so tired?' said Una. 'Hobden says beating is hard +work sometimes.' + +'I think this tale is getting like the woods,' said Dan, 'darker and +twistier every minute.' Sir Richard had walked as he talked, and though +the children thought they knew the woods well enough, they felt a little +lost. + +'A dark tale enough,' says Sir Richard, 'but the end was not all black. +When we had washed, we went to wait on the King at meat in the great +pavilion. Just before the trumpets blew for the Entry--all the guests +upstanding--long Rahere comes posturing up to Hugh, and strikes him with +his bauble-bladder. + +'"Here's a heavy heart for a joyous meal!" he says. "But each man must +have his black hour or where would be the merit of laughing? Take a +fool's advice, and sit it out with my man. I'll make a jest to excuse +you to the King if he remember to ask for you. That's more than I would +do for Archbishop Anselm." + +'Hugh looked at him heavy-eyed. "Rahere?" said he. "The King's jester? +Oh, Saints, what punishment for my King!" and smites his hands together. +'"Go--go fight it out in the dark," says Rahere, "and thy Saxon Saints +reward thee for thy pity to my fool." He pushed him from the pavilion, +and Hugh lurched away like one drunk.' + +'But why?' said Una. 'I don't understand.' + +'Ah, why indeed? Live you long enough, maiden, and you shall know the +meaning of many whys.' Sir Richard smiled. 'I wondered too, but it was +my duty to wait on the King at the High Table in all that glitter and +stir. + +'He spoke me his thanks for the sport I had helped show him, and he had +learned from De Aquila enough of my folk and my castle in Normandy to +graciously feign that he knew and had loved my brother there. (This, +also, is part of a king's work.) Many great men sat at the High +Table--chosen by the King for their wits, not for their birth. I have +forgotten their names, and their faces I only saw that one night. +But'--Sir Richard turned in his stride--'but Rahere, flaming in black +and scarlet among our guests, the hollow of his dark cheek flushed with +wine--long, laughing Rahere, and the stricken sadness of his face when +he was not twisting it about--Rahere I shall never forget. + +'At the King's outgoing De Aquila bade me follow him, with his great +bishops and two great barons, to the little pavilion. We had devised +jugglers and dances for the Court's sport; but Henry loved to talk +gravely to grave men, and De Aquila had told him of my travels to the +world's end. We had a fire of apple-wood, sweet as incense,--and the +curtains at the door being looped up, we could hear the music and see +the lights shining on mail and dresses. + +'Rahere lay behind the King's chair. The questions he darted forth at me +were as shrewd as the flames. I was telling of our fight with the apes, +as ye called them, at the world's end. [See 'The Knights of the Joyous +Venture' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.] '"But where is the Saxon knight that +went with you?" said Henry. "He must confirm these miracles." + +'"He is busy," said Rahere, "confirming a new miracle." + +'"Enough miracles for today," said the King. "Rahere, you have saved +your long neck. Fetch the Saxon knight." + +'"Pest on it," said Rahere. "Who would be a King's jester? I'll bring +him, Brother, if you'll see that none of your home-brewed bishops taste +my wine while I am away." So he jingled forth between the men-at-arms at +the door. + +'Henry had made many bishops in England without the Pope's leave. I know +not the rights of the matter, but only Rahere dared jest about it. We +waited on the King's next word. + +'"I think Rahere is jealous of you," said he, smiling, to Nigel of Ely. +He was one bishop; and William of Exeter, the other--Wal-wist the Saxons +called him--laughed long. "Rahere is a priest at heart. Shall I make him +a bishop, De Aquila?" says the King. + +'"There might be worse," said our Lord of Pevensey. "Rahere would never +do what Anselm has done." + +'This Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, had gone off raging to the Pope +at Rome, because Henry would make bishops without his leave either. I +knew not the rights of it, but De Aquila did, and the King laughed. + +'"Anselm means no harm. He should have been a monk, not a bishop," said +the King. "I'll never quarrel with Anselm or his Pope till they quarrel +with my England. If we can keep the King's peace till my son comes to +rule, no man will lightly quarrel with our England." + +'"Amen," said De Aquila. "But the King's peace ends when the King dies." + +'That is true. The King's peace dies with the King. The custom then is +that all laws are outlaw, and men do what they will till the new King is +chosen. + +'"I will amend that," said the King hotly. "I will have it so that +though King, son, and grandson were all slain in one day, still the +King's peace should hold over all England! What is a man that his mere +death must upheave a people? We must have the Law." + +'"Truth," said William of Exeter; but that he would have said to any +word of the King. + +'The two great barons behind said nothing. This teaching was clean +against their stomachs, for when the King's peace ends, the great barons +go to war and increase their lands. At that instant we heard Rahere's +voice returning, in a scurril Saxon rhyme against William of Exeter: + + '"Well wist Wal-wist where lay his fortune + When that he fawned on the King for his crozier," + +and amid our laughter he burst in, with one arm round Hugh, and one +round the old pilgrim of Netherfield. + +'"Here is your knight, Brother," said he, "and for the better disport of +the company, here is my fool. Hold up, Saxon Samson, the gates of Gaza +are clean carried away!" + +'Hugh broke loose, white and sick, and staggered to my side; the old man +blinked upon the company. + +'We looked at the King, but he smiled. + +'"Rahere promised he would show me some sport after supper to cover his +morning's offence," said he to De Aquila. "So this is thy man, Rahere?" + +'"Even so," said Rahere. "My man he has been, and my protection he +has taken, ever since I found him under the gallows at Stamford Bridge +telling the kites atop of it that he was--Harold of England!" + +'There was a great silence upon these last strange words, and Hugh hid +his face on my shoulder, woman-fashion. + +'"It is most cruel true," he whispered to me. "The old man proved it +to me at the beat after you left, and again in our hut even now. It is +Harold, my King!" + +'De Aquila crept forward. He walked about the man and swallowed. + +'"Bones of the Saints!" said he, staring. + +'"Many a stray shot goes too well home," said Rahere. + +'The old man flinched as at an arrow. "Why do you hurt me still?" he said +in Saxon. "It was on some bones of some Saints that I promised I would +give my England to the Great Duke." He turns on us all crying, shrilly: +"Thanes, he had caught me at Rouen--a lifetime ago. If I had not +promised, I should have lain there all my life. What else could I have +done? I have lain in a strait prison all my life none the less. There is +no need to throw stones at me." He guarded his face with his arms, and +shivered. "Now his madness will strike him down," said Rahere. "Cast out +the evil spirit, one of you new bishops." + +'Said William of Exeter: "Harold was slain at Santlache fight. All the +world knows it." + +'"I think this man must have forgotten," said Rahere. "Be comforted, +Father. Thou wast well slain at Hastings forty years gone, less three +months and nine days. Tell the King." + +'The man uncovered his face. "I thought they would stone me," he said. +"I did not know I spoke before a King." He came to his full towering +height--no mean man, but frail beyond belief. + +'The King turned to the tables, and held him out his own cup of wine. +The old man drank, and beckoned behind him, and, before all the Normans, +my Hugh bore away the empty cup, Saxon-fashion, upon the knee. + +"It is Harold!" said De Aquila. "His own stiff-necked blood kneels to +serve him. + +"Be it so," said Henry. "Sit, then, thou that hast been Harold of +England." + +'The madman sat, and hard, dark Henry looked at him between half-shut +eyes. We others stared like oxen, all but De Aquila, who watched Rahere +as I have seen him watch a far sail on the sea. + +'The wine and the warmth cast the old man into a dream. His white head +bowed; his hands hung. His eye indeed was opened, but the mind was +shut. When he stretched his feet, they were scurfed and road-cut like a +slave's. + +'"Ah, Rahere," cried Hugh, "why hast thou shown him thus? Better have +let him die than shame him--and me!" + +'"Shame thee?" said the King. "Would any baron of mine kneel to me if I +were witless, discrowned, and alone, and Harold had my throne?" + +'"No," said Rahere. "I am the sole fool that might do it, Brother, +unless"--he pointed at De Aquila, whom he had only met that day--"yonder +tough Norman crab kept me company. But, Sir Hugh, I did not mean to +shame him. He hath been somewhat punished through, maybe, little fault +of his own." + +'"Yet he lied to my Father, the Conqueror," said the King, and the old +man flinched in his sleep. + +'"Maybe," said Rahere, "but thy Brother Robert, whose throat we purpose +soon to slit with our own hands--" + +'"Hutt!" said the King, laughing. "I'll keep Robert at my table for +a life's guest when I catch him. Robert means no harm. It is all his +cursed barons." + +'"None the less," said Rahere, "Robert may say that thou hast not always +spoken the stark truth to him about England. I should not hang too many +men on that bough, Brother." '"And it is certain," said Hugh, "that"--he +pointed to the old man--"Harold was forced to make his promise to the +Great Duke." + +'"Very strongly, forced," said De Aquila. He had never any pride in the +Duke William's dealings with Harold before Hastings. Yet, as he said, +one cannot build a house all of straight sticks. + +'"No matter how he was forced," said Henry, "England was promised to my +Father William by Edward the Confessor. Is it not so?" William of Exeter +nodded. "Harold confirmed that promise to my Father on the bones of the +Saints. Afterwards he broke his oath and would have taken England by +the strong hand." + +'"Oh! La! La!" Rahere rolled up his eyes like a girl. "That ever England +should be taken by the strong hand!" + +'Seeing that Red William and Henry after him had each in just that +fashion snatched England from Robert of Normandy, we others knew not +where to look. But De Aquila saved us quickly. + +'"Promise kept or promise broken," he said, "Harold came near enough to +breaking us Normans at Santlache." + +'"Was it so close a fight, then?" said Henry. + +'"A hair would have turned it either way," De Aquila answered. "His +house-carles stood like rocks against rain. Where wast thou, Hugh, in +it?" + +'"Among Godwin's folk beneath the Golden Dragon till your front gave +back, and we broke our ranks to follow," said Hugh. + +'"But I bade you stand! I bade you stand! I knew it was all a deceit!" +Harold had waked, and leaned forward as one crying from the grave. + +'"Ah, now we see how the traitor himself was betrayed!" said William of +Exeter, and looked for a smile from the King. + +'"I made thee Bishop to preach at my bidding," said Henry; and turning +to Harold, "Tell us here how thy people fought us?" said he. "Their sons +serve me now against my Brother Robert!" + +'The old man shook his head cunningly. "Na--Na--Na!" he cried. "I know +better. Every time I tell my tale men stone me. But, Thanes, I will tell +you a greater thing. Listen!" He told us how many paces it was from some +Saxon Saint's shrine to another shrine, and how many more back to the +Abbey of the Battle. + +'"Ay," said he. "I have trodden it too often to be out even ten paces. +I move very swiftly. Harold of Norway knows that, and so does Tostig my +brother. They lie at ease at Stamford Bridge, and from Stamford Bridge +to the Battle Abbey it is--" he muttered over many numbers and forgot +us. + +'"Ay," said De Aquila, all in a muse. "That man broke Harold of Norway +at Stamford Bridge, and came near to breaking us at Santlache--all +within one month." + +'"But how did he come alive from Santlache fight?" asked the King. "Ask +him! Hast thou heard it, Rahere?" "Never. He says he has been stoned too +often for telling the tale. But he can count you off Saxon and Norman +shrines till daylight," said Rahere and the old man nodded proudly. + +'"My faith!" said Henry after a while. "I think even my Father the Great +Duke would pity if he could see him." + +'"How if he does see?" said Rahere. + +'Hugh covered his face with his sound hand. "Ah, why hast thou shamed +him?" he cried again to Rahere. + +'"No--no," says the old man, reaching to pluck at Rahere's cape. "I am +Rahere's man. None stone me now," and he played with the bells on the +scollops of it. + +'"How if he had been brought to me when you found him?" said the King to +Rahere. + +'"You would have held him prisoner again--as the Great Duke did," Rahere +answered. + +'"True," said our King. "He is nothing except his name. Yet that name +might have been used by stronger men to trouble my England. Yes. I must +have made him my life's guest--as I shall make Robert." + +'"I knew it," said Rahere. "But while this man wandered mad by the +wayside, none cared what he called himself." + +'"I learned to cease talking before the stones flew," says the old man, +and Hugh groaned. + +'"Ye have heard!" said Rahere. "Witless, landless, nameless, and, but +for my protection, masterless, he can still make shift to bide his doom +under the open sky." + +'"Then wherefore didst thou bring him here for a mock and a shame?" +cried Hugh, beside himself with woe. + +'"A right mock and a just shame!" said William of Exeter. + +'"Not to me," said Nigel of Ely. "I see and I tremble, but I neither +mock nor judge." "Well spoken, Ely." Rahere falls into the pure fool +again. "I'll pray for thee when I turn monk. Thou hast given thy +blessing on a war between two most Christian brothers." He meant the war +forward 'twixt Henry and Robert of Normandy. "I charge you, Brother," he +says, wheeling on the King, "dost thou mock my fool?" The King shook his +head, and so then did smooth William of Exeter. + +'"De Aquila, does thou mock him?" Rahere jingled from one to another, +and the old man smiled. + +'"By the Bones of the Saints, not I," said our Lord of Pevensey. "I know +how dooms near he broke us at Santlache." + +'"Sir Hugh, you are excused the question. But you, valiant, loyal, +honourable, and devout barons, Lords of Man's justice in your own +bounds, do you mock my fool?" + +'He shook his bauble in the very faces of those two barons whose names +I have forgotten. "Na--Na!" they said, and waved him back foolishly +enough. + +'He hies him across to staring, nodding Harold, and speaks from behind +his chair. + +'"No man mocks thee, Who here judges this man? Henry of +England--Nigel--De Aquila! On your souls, swift with the answer!" he +cried. + +'None answered. We were all--the King not least--over-borne by that +terrible scarlet-and-black wizard-jester. + +'"Well for your souls," he said, wiping his brow. Next, shrill like a +woman: "Oh, come to me!" and Hugh ran forward to hold Harold, that had +slidden down in the chair. + +'"Hearken," said Rahere, his arm round Harold's neck. "The King--his +bishops--the knights--all the world's crazy chessboard neither mock nor +judge thee. Take that comfort with thee, Harold of England!" + +'Hugh heaved the old man up and he smiled. + +'"Good comfort," said Harold. "Tell me again! I have been somewhat +punished." 'Rahere hallooed it once more into his ear as the head +rolled. We heard him sigh, and Nigel of Ely stood forth, praying aloud. + +'"Out! I will have no Norman!" Harold said as clearly as I speak now, +and he refuged himself on Hugh's sound shoulder, and stretched out, and +lay all still.' + +'Dead?' said Una, turning up a white face in the dusk. + +'That was his good fortune. To die in the King's presence, and on the +breast of the most gentlest, truest knight of his own house. Some of us +envied him,' said Sir Richard, and fell back to take Swallow's bridle. + +'Turn left here,' Puck called ahead of them from under an oak. They +ducked down a narrow path through close ash plantation. + +The children hurried forward, but cutting a corner charged full-abreast +into the thorn-faggot that old Hobden was carrying home on his back. +'My! My!' said he. 'Have you scratted your face, Miss Una?' + +'Sorry! It's all right,' said Una, rubbing her nose. 'How many rabbits +did you get today?' + +'That's tellin'!' the old man grinned as he re-hoisted his faggot. 'I +reckon Mus' Ridley he've got rheumatism along o' lyin' in the dik to see +I didn't snap up any. Think o' that now!' + +They laughed a good deal while he told them the tale. + +'An' just as he crawled away I heard some one hollerin' to the hounds +in our woods,' said he. 'Didn't you hear? You must ha' been asleep +sure-ly.' + +'Oh, what about the sleeper you promised to show us?' Dan cried. + +''Ere he be--house an' all!' Hobden dived into the prickly heart of the +faggot and took out a dormouse's wonderfully woven nest of grass and +leaves. His blunt fingers parted it as if it had been precious lace, and +tilting it toward the last of the light he showed the little, red, furry +chap curled up inside, his tail between his eyes that were shut for +their winter sleep. + +'Let's take him home. Don't breathe on him,' said Una. 'It'll make him +warm and he'll wake up and die straight off. Won't he, Hobby?' + +'Dat's a heap better by my reckonin' than wakin' up and findin' himself +in a cage for life. No! We'll lay him into the bottom o' this hedge. +Dat's jus' right! No more trouble for him till come Spring. An' now +we'll go home.' + + + + +A Carol + + + Our Lord Who did the Ox command + To kneel to Judah's King, + He binds His frost upon the land + To ripen it for Spring-- + To ripen it for Spring, good sirs, + According to His word; + Which well must be as ye can see-- + And who shall judge the Lord? + + When we poor fenmen skate the ice + Or shiver on the wold, + We hear the cry of a single tree + That breaks her heart in the cold-- + That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs, + And rendeth by the board; + Which well must be as ye can see-- + And who shall judge the Lord? + + Her wood is crazed and little worth + Excepting as to burn + That we may warm and make our mirth + Until the Spring return-- + Until the Spring return, good sirs, + When people walk abroad; + Which well must be as ye can see-- + And who shall judge the Lord? + + God bless the master of this house, + And all that sleep therein! + And guard the fens from pirate folk, + And keep us all from sin, + To walk in honesty, good sirs, + Of thought and deed and word! + Which shall befriend our latter end-- + And who shall judge the Lord? + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rewards and Fairies, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REWARDS AND FAIRIES *** + +***** This file should be named 556.txt or 556.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/556/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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