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diff --git a/9258-0.txt b/9258-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f49ff2 --- /dev/null +++ b/9258-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1230 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Miraculous Pitcher, by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +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: The Miraculous Pitcher + +Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9258] +First Posted: September 25, 2003 +Last Updated: December 15, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + + + + + + A WONDER-BOOK FOR GIRLS AND BOYS + + By Nathaniel Hawthorne + + + THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER + + + +CONTENTS: + + THE HILLSIDE.--Introductory to “The Miraculous Pitcher” + THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER + THE HILLSIDE--After the Story + + + +INTRODUCTORY TO “THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER” + +And when, and where, do you think we find the children next? No longer +in the winter-time, but in the merry month of May. No longer in +Tanglewood play-room, or at Tanglewood fireside, but more than half-way +up a monstrous hill, or a mountain, as perhaps it would be better +pleased to have us call it. They had set out from home with the mighty +purpose of climbing this high hill, even to the very tiptop of its bald +head. To be sure, it was not quite so high as Chimborazo, or Mont +Blanc, and was even a good deal lower than old Graylock. But, at any +rate, it was higher than a thousand ant-hillocks, or a million of mole +hills; and, when measured by the short strides of little children, might +be reckoned a very respectable mountain. + +And was Cousin Eustace with the party? Of that you may be certain; else +how could the book go on a step further? He was now in the middle of +the spring vacation, and looked pretty much as we saw him four or five +months ago, except that, if you gazed quite closely at his upper lip, +you could discern the funniest little bit of a mustache upon it. +Setting aside this mark of mature manhood, you might have considered +Cousin Eustace just as much a boy as when you first became acquainted +with him. He was as merry, as playful, as good-humored, as light of +foot and of spirits, and equally a favorite with the little folks, as he +had always been. This expedition up the mountain was entirely of his +contrivance. All the way up the steep ascent, he had encouraged the +elder children with his cheerful voice; and when Dandelion, Cowslip, and +Squash-blossom grew weary, he had lugged them along, alternately, on his +back. In this manner, they had passed through the orchards and pastures +on the lower part of the hill, and had reached the wood, which extends +thence towards its bare summit. + +The month of May, thus far, had been more amiable than it often is, and +this was as sweet and genial a day as the heart of man or child could +wish. In their progress up the hill, the small people had found enough +of violets, blue and white, and some that were as golden as if they had +the touch of Midas on them. That sociablest of flowers, the little +Housatonia, was very abundant. It is a flower that never lives alone, +but which loves its own kind, and is always fond of dwelling with a +great many friends and relatives around it. Sometimes you see a family +of them, covering a space no bigger than the palm of your hand; and +sometimes a large community, whitening a whole tract of pasture, and all +keeping one another in cheerful heart and life. + +Within the verge of the wood there were columbines, looking more pale +than red, because they were so modest, and had thought proper to seclude +themselves too anxiously from the sun. There were wild geraniums, too, +and a thousand white blossoms of the strawberry. The trailing arbutus +was not yet quite out of bloom; but it hid its precious flowers under +the last year’s withered forest-leaves, as carefully as a mother-bird +hides its little young ones. It knew, I suppose, how beautiful and +sweet-scented they were. So cunning was their concealment, that the +children sometimes smelt the delicate richness of their perfume, before +they knew whence it proceeded. + +Amid so much new life, it was strange and truly pitiful to behold, here +and there, in the fields and pastures, the hoary periwig of dandelions +that had already gone to seed. They had done with summer before the +summer came. Within those small globes of winged seeds it was autumn +now! + +Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages with any more talk about +the spring-time and wild flowers. There is something, we hope, more +interesting to be talked about. If you look at the group of children, +you may see them all gathered around Eustace Bright, who, sitting on the +stump of a tree, seems to be just beginning a story. The fact is, the +younger part of the troop have found out that it takes rather too many +of their short strides to measure the long ascent of the hill. Cousin +Eustace, therefore, has decided to leave Sweet Fern, Cowslip, +Squash-blossom, and Dandelion, at this point, midway up, until the return +of the rest of the party from the summit. And because they complain a +little, and do not quite like to stay behind, he gives them some apples +out of his pocket, and proposes to tell them a very pretty story. +Hereupon they brighten up, and change their grieved looks into the +broadest kind of smiles. + +As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden behind a bush, and +shall tell it over to you in the pages that come next. + + + +THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. + +One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his old wife Baucis sat +at their cottage-door, enjoying the cahn and beautiful sunset. They had +already eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend a quiet +hour or two before bedtime. So they talked together about their garden, +and their cow, and their bees, and their grapevine, which clambered over +the cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were beginning to turn purple. +But the rude shouts of children and the fierce barking of dogs, in the +village near at hand, grew louder and louder, until, at last, it was +hardly possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear each other speak. + +“Ah, wife.” cried Philemon, “I fear some poor traveller is seeking +hospitality among our neighbors yonder, and, instead of giving him food +and lodging, they have set their dogs at him, as their custom is!” + +“Well-a-day!” answered old Baucis, “I do wish our neighbors felt a +little more kindness for their fellow-creatures. And only think of +bringing up their children in this naughty way, and patting them on the +head when they fling stones at strangers!” + +“Those children will never come to any good,” said Philemon, shaking his +white head. “To tell you the truth, wife, I should not wonder if some +terrible thing were to happen to all the people in the village, unless +they mend their manners. But, as for you and me, so long as Providence +affords us a crust of bread, let us be ready to give half to any poor, +homeless stranger, that may come along and need it.” + +“That ‘s right, husband!” said Baucis. “So we will!” + +These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and had to work pretty +hard for a living. Old Philemon toiled diligently in his garden, while +Baucis was always busy with her distaff, or making a little butter and +cheese with their cow’s milk, or doing one thing and another about the +cottage. Their food was seldom anything but bread, milk, and +vegetables, with sometimes a portion of honey from their beehive, and +now and then a bunch of grapes, that had ripened against the cottage-wall. +But they were two of the kindest old people in the world, and +would cheerfully have gone without their dinners, any day, rather than +refuse a slice of their brown loaf, a cup of new milk, and a spoonful of +honey, to the weary traveller who might pause before their door. They +felt as if such guests had a sort of holiness, and that they ought, +therefore, to treat them better and more bountifully than their own +selves. + +Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some short distance from a +village, which lay in a hollow valley, that was about half a mile in +breadth. This valley, in past ages, when the world was new, had +probably been the bed of a lake. There, fishes had glided to and fro in +the depths, and water-weeds had grown along the margin, and trees and +hills had seen their reflected images in the broad, and peaceful mirror. +But, as the waters subsided, men had cultivated the soil, and built +houses on it, so that it was now a fertile spot, and bore no traces of +the ancient lake, except a very small brook, which meandered through the +midst of the village, and supplied the inhabitants with water. The +valley had been dry land so long, that oaks had sprung up, and grown +great and high, and perished with old age, and been succeeded by others; +as tall and stately as the first. Never was there a prettier or more +fruitful valley. The very sight of the plenty around them should have +made the inhabitants kind and gentle, and ready to show their gratitude +to Providence by doing good to their fellow-creatures. + +But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely village were not +worthy to dwell in a spot on which Heaven had smiled so beneficently. +They were a very selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity for +the poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They would only have laughed, +had anybody told them that human beings owe a debt of love to one +another, because there is no other method of paying the debt of love and +care which all of us owe to Providence. You will hardly believe what I +am going to tell you. These naughty people taught their children to be +no better than themselves, and used to clap their hands, by way of +encouragement, when they saw the little boys and girls run after some +poor stranger, shouting at his heels, and pelting hum with stones. They +kept large and fierce dogs, and whenever a traveller ventured to show +himself in the village street, this pack of disagreeable curs scampered +to meet him, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth. Then they +would seize him by his leg, or by his clothes, just as it happened; and +if he were ragged when he came, he was generally a pitiable object +before he had time to run away. This was a very terrible thing to poor +travellers, as you may suppose, especially when they chanced to be sick, +or feeble, or lame, or old. Such persons (if they once knew how badly +these unkind people, and their unkind children and curs, were in the +habit of behaving) would go miles and miles out of their way, rather +than try to pass through the village again. + +What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was that when rich persons +came in their chariots, or riding on beautiful horses, with their +servants in rich liveries attending on them, nobody could be more civil +and obsequious than the inhabitants of the village. They would take off +their hats, and make the humblest bows you ever saw. If the children +were rude, they were pretty certain to get their ears boxed; and as for +the dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his master +instantly beat him with a club, and tied him up without any supper. +This would have been all very well, only it proved that the villagers +cared much about the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and +nothing whatever for the human soul, which lives equally in the beggar +and the prince. + +So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke so sorrowfully, when he +heard the shouts of the children and the barking of the dogs, at the +farther extremity of the village street. There was a confused din, +which lasted a good while, and seemed to pass quite through the breadth +of the valley. + +“I never heard the dogs so loud!” observed the good old man. + +“Nor the children so rude!” answered his good old wife. + +They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while the noise came +nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of the little eminence on which +their cottage stood, they saw two travellers approaching on foot. Close +behind them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels. A +little farther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent up shrill cries, +and flung stones at the two strangers, with all their might. Once or +twice, the younger of the two men (he was a slender and very active +figure) turned about, and drove back the dogs with a staff which he +carried in his hand. His companion, who was a very tall person, walked +calmly along, as if disdaining to notice either the naughty children, or +the pack of curs, whose manners the children seemed to imitate. + +Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and looked as if they +might not have money enough in their pockets to pay for a night’s +lodging. And this, I am afraid, was the reason why the villagers had +allowed their children and dogs to treat them so rudely. + +“Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, “let us go and meet these poor +people. No doubt, they feel almost too heavy-hearted to climb the +hill.” + +“Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, “while I make haste within +doors, and see whether we can get them anything for supper. A +comfortable bowl of bread and milk would do wonders towards raising +their spirits.” + +Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Philemon, on his part, went +forward, and extended his hand with so hospitable an aspect that there +was no need of saying, what nevertheless he did say, in the heartiest +tone imaginable,-- + +“Welcome, strangers! welcome!” + +“Thank you!” replied the younger of the two, in a lively kind of way, +notwithstanding his weariness and trouble. “This is quite another +greeting than we have met with yonder, in the village. Pray, why do you +live in such a bad neighborhood?” + +“Ah!” observed old Philemon, with a quiet and benign smile, “Providence +put me here, I hope, among other reasons, in order that I may make you +what amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors.” + +“Well said, old father!” cried the traveller, laughing; “and, if the +truth must be told, my companion and myself need some amends. Those +children (the little rascals!) have bespattered us finely with their +mud-ball; and one of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged enough +already. But I took him across the muzzle with my staff; and I think +you may have heard him yelp, even thus far off.” + +Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits; nor, indeed, would +you have fancied, by the traveller’s look and manner, that he was weary +with a long day’s journey, besides being disheartened by rough treatment +at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd way, with a sort of +cap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. Though it +was a summer evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely about +him, perhaps because his under garments were shabby. Philemen +perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of shoes; but, as it was +now growing dusk, and as the old man’s eyesight was none the sharpest, +he could not precisely tell in what the strangeness consisted. One +thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveller was so wonderfully light +and active, that it appeared as if his feet sometimes rose from the +ground of their own accord, or could only be kept down by an effort. + +“I used to be light-footed, in my youth,” said Philemen to the +traveller. “But I always found my feet grow heavier towards nightfall.” + +“There is nothing like a good staff to help one along,” answered the +stranger; “and I happen to have an excellent one, as you see.” + +This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that Philemon had ever +beheld. It was made of olive-wood, and had something like a little pair +of wings near the top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were represented +as twining themselves about the staff, and were so very skilfully +executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you know, were getting rather +dim) almost thought them alive, and that he could see them wriggling and +twisting. + +“A curious piece of work, sure enough!” said he. “A staff with wings! +It would be an excellent kind of stick for a little boy to ride astride +of!” + +By this time, Philemon and his two guests had reached the cottage-door. + +“Friends,” said the old man, “sit down and rest yourselves here on this +bench. My good wife Baucis has gone to see what you can have for +supper. We are poor folks; but you shall be welcome to whatever we have +in the cupboard.” + +The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the bench, letting his +staff fall, as he did so. And here happened something rather +marvellous, though trifling enough, too. The staff seemed to get up +from the ground of its own accord, and, spreading its little pair of +wings, it half hopt, half flew, and leaned itself against the wall of +the cottage. There it stood quite still, except that the snakes +continued to wriggle. But, in my private opinion, old Philemon’s +eyesight had been playing him tricks again. + +Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger drew his attention +from the wonderful staff, by speaking to him. + +“Was there not,” asked the stranger, in a remarkably deep tone of voice, +“a lake, in very ancient times, covering the spot where now stands +yonder village?” + +“Not in my day, friend,” answered Philemon; “and yet I am an old man, +as you see. There were always the fields and meadows, just as they are +now, and the old trees, and the little stream murmuring through the +midst of the valley. My father, nor his father before him, ever saw it +otherwise, so far as I know; and doubtless it will still be the same, +when old Philemon shall be gone and forgotten!” + +“That is more than can be safely foretold,” observed the stranger; and +there was something very stern in his deep voice. He shook his head, +too, so that his dark and heavy curls were shaken with the movement, +“Since the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affections +and sympathies of their nature, it were better that the lake should be +rippling over their dwellings again!” + +The traveller looked so stern, that Philemon was really almost +frightened; the more so, that, at his frown, the twilight seemed +suddenly to grow darker, and that, when he shook his head, there was +a roll as of thunder in the air. + +But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger’s face became so kindly and +mild, that the old man quite forgot his terror. Nevertheless, he could +not help feeling that this elder traveller must be no ordinary +personage, although he happened now to be attired so humbly, and to be +journeying on foot. Not that Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise, +or any character of that sort; but rather some exceedingly wise man, who +went about the world in this poor garb, despising wealth and all worldly +objects, and seeking everywhere to add a mite to his wisdom. This idea +appeared the more probable, because, when Philemon raised his eyes to +the stranger’s face, he seemed to see more thought there, in one look, +than he could have studied out in a lifetime. + +While Baucis was getting the supper, the travellers both began to talk +very sociably with Philemon. The younger, indeed, was extremely +loquacious, and made such shrewd and witty remarks, that the good old +man continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced him the merriest +fellow whom he had seen for many a day. + +“Pray, my young friend,” said he, as they grew familiar together, “what +may I call your name?” + +“Why, I am very nimble, as you see,” answered the traveller. “So, if +you call me Quicksilver, the name will fit tolerably well.” + +“Quicksilver? Quicksilver?” repeated Philemon, looking in the +traveller’s face, to see if he were making fun of him. “It is a very +odd name! And your companion there? Has he as strange a one?” + +“You must ask the thunder to tell it you!” replied Quicksilver, putting +on a mysterious look. “No other voice is loud enough.” + +This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might have caused +Philemon to conceive a very great awe of the elder stranger, if, on +venturing to gaze at him, he had not beheld so much beneficence in his +visage; But, undoubtedly, here was the grandest figure that ever sat so +humbly beside a cottage-door. When the stranger conversed, it was with +gravity, and in such a way that Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tell +him everything which he had most at heart. This is always the feeling +that people have, when they meet with any one wise enough to comprehend +all their good and evil, and to despise not a tittle of it. + +But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that he was, had not many +secrets to disclose. He talked, however, quite garrulously, about the +events of his past life, in the whole course of which he had never been +a score of miles from this very spot. His wife Baucis and himself had +dwelt in the cottage from their youth upward, earning their bread by +honest labor, always poor, but still contented. He told what excellent +butter and cheese Baucis made, and how nice were the vegetables which he +raised in his garden. He said, too, that, because they loved one +another so very much, it was the wish of both that death might not +separate them, but that they should die, as they had lived, together. + +As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his countenance, and made +its expression as sweet as it was grand. + +“You are a good old man,” said he to Philemon, “and you have a good old +wife to be your helpmeet. It is fit that your wish be granted.” + +And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sunset clouds threw up a +bright flash from the west, and kindled a sudden light in the sky. + +Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to the door, began to make +apologies for the poor fare which she was forced to set before her +guests. + +“Had we known you were coming,” said she, “my good man and myself would +have gone without a morsel, rather than you should lack a better supper. +But I took the most part of to-day’s milk to make cheese; and our last +loaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I never feel the sorrow of being +poor, save when a poor traveller knocks at our door.” + +“All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my good dame,” replied +the elder stranger, kindly. “An honest, hearty welcome to a guest works +miracles with the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to +nectar and ambrosia.” + +“A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, “and likewise a little honey +that we happen to have left, and a bunch of purple grapes besides.” + +“Why, Mother Baucis, it, is a feast!” exclaimed Quicksilver, laughing, +“an absolute feast! and you shall see how bravely I will play my part at +it! I think I never felt hungrier in my life.” + +“Mercy on us!” whispered Baucis to her husband. “If the young man has +such a terrible appetite, I am afraid there will not be half enough +supper!” + +They all went into the cottage. + +And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something that will make +you open your eyes very wide? It is really one of the oddest +circumstances in the whole story. Quicksilver’s staff, you recollect, +had set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well; when its +master entered the door, leaving this wonderful staff behind, what +should it do but immediately spread its little wings, and go hopping and +fluttering up the doorsteps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the kitchen +floor; nor did it rest until it had stood itself on end, with the +greatest gravity and decorum, beside Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon, +however, as well as his wife, was so taken up in attending to their +guests, that no notice was given to what the staff had been about. + +As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for two hungry +travellers. In the middle of the table was the remnant of a brown loaf, +with a piece of cheese on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on the +other. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests. +A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at a +corner of the board; and when hands had filled two bowls, and set them +before the strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of the +pitcher. Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart finds +itself pinched and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor Baucis +kept wishing that she might starve for a week to come, if it were +possible, by so doing, to provide these hungry folks a more plentiful +supper. + +And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she could not help +wishing that their appetites had not been quite so large. Why, at their +very first sitting down, the travellers both drank off all the milk in +their two bowls, at a draught. + +“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” said +Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, and I am very much athirst.” + +“Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great confusion, “I am so +sorry and ashamed! But the truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk +in the pitcher. O husband! husband! why did n’t we go without our +supper?” + +“Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, starting up from table and +taking the pitcher by the handle, “it really appears to me that matters +are not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more milk +in the pitcher.” + +So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he proceeded to fill, +not only his own bowl, but his companion’s likewise, from the pitcher, +that was supposed to be almost empty. The good woman could scarcely +believe her eyes. She had certainly poured out nearly all the milk, and +had peeped in afterwards, and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set +it down upon the table. + +“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt to be forgetful. I +suppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot, +help being empty now, after filling the bowls twice over.” + +“What excellent milk!” observed Quicksilver, after quaffing the contents +of the second bowl. “Excuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask +you for a little more.” + +Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see anything, that +Quicksilver had turned the pitcher upside down, and consequently had +poured out every drop of milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, +there could not possibly be any left. However, in order to let him know +precisely how the case was, she lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture +as if pouring milk into Quicksilver’s bowl, but without the remotest +idea that any milk would stream forth. What was her surprise, +therefore, when such an abundant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl, +that it was immediately filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the +table! The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver’s staff (but +neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe this circumstance) +stretched out their heads, and began to lap up the spilt milk. + +And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had! It seemed as if +Philemon’s only cow must have pastured, that day, on the richest herbage +that could be found anywhere in the world. I only wish that each of +you, my beloved little souls, could have a bowl of such nice milk, at +supper-time! + +“And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis,” said Quicksilver, +“and a little of that honey!” + +Baucis cut him a slice, accordingly; and though the loaf, when she and +her husband ate of it, had been rather too dry and crusty to be +palatable, it was now as light and moist as if but a few hours out of +the oven. Tasting a crumb, which had fallen on the table, she found it +more delicious than bread ever was before, and could hardly believe that +it was a loaf of her own kneading and baking. Yet, what other loaf +could it possibly be? + +But, oh the honey! I may just as well let it alone, without trying to +describe how exquisitely it smelt and looked. Its color was that of the +purest and most transparent gold; and it had the odor of a thousand +flowers; but of such flowers as never grew in an earthly garden, and to +seek which the bees must have flown high above the clouds. The wonder +is, that, after alighting on a flower-bed of so delicious fragrance and +immortal bloom, they should have been content to fly down again to their +hive in Philemon’s garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, or smelt. +The perfume floated around the kitchen, and made it so delightful, that, +had you closed your eyes, you would instantly have forgotten the low +ceiling and smoky walls, and have fancied yourself in an arbor, with +celestial honeysuckles creeping over it. + +Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame, she could not but +think that there was something rather out of the common way, in all that +had been going on. So, after helping the guests to bread and honey, and +laying a bunch of grapes by each of their plates, she sat down by +Philemon, and told him what she had seen, in a whisper. + +“Did you ever hear the like?” asked she. + +“No, I never did,” answered Philemon, with a smile. “And I rather +think, my dear old wife, you have been walking about in a sort of a +dream. If I had poured out the milk, I should have seen through the +business, at once. There happened to be a little more in the pitcher +than you thought,--that is all.” + +“Ah, husband,” said Baucis, “say what you will, these are very uncommon +people.” + +“Well, well,” replied Philemon, still smiling, “perhaps they are. They +certainly do look as if they had seen better days; and I am heartily +glad to see them making so comfortable a supper.” + +Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes upon his plate. +Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order to see the more clearly) was of +opinion that the clusters had grown larger and richer, and that each +separate grape seemed to be on the point of bursting with ripe juice. +It was entirely a mystery to her how such grapes could ever have been +produced from the old stunted vine that climbed against the cottage-wall. + +“Very admirable grapes these!” observed Quicksilver, as he swallowed one +after another, without apparently diminishing his cluster. “Pray, my +good host, whence did you gather them?” + +“From my own vine,” answered Philemon. “You may see one of its branches +twisting across the window, yonder. But wife and I never thought the +grapes very fine ones.” + +“I never tasted better,” said the guest. “Another cup of this delicious +milk, if you please, and I shall then have supped better than a prince.” + +This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took up the pitcher; for +he was curious to discover whether there was any reality in the marvels +which Baucis had whispered to him. He knew that his good old wife was +incapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom mistaken in what she +supposed to be true; but this was so very singular a case, that he +wanted to see into it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, +therefore, he slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied that it +contained not so much as a single drop. All at once, however, he beheld +a little white fountain, which gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher, +and speedily filled it to the brim with foaming and deliciously fragrant +milk. It was lucky that Philemon, in his surprise, did not drop the +miraculous pitcher from his hand. + +“Who are ye, wonder-working strangers?” cried he, even more bewildered +than his wife had been. + +“Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,” replied the elder +traveller, in his mild, deep voice, that had something at once sweet and +awe-inspiring in it. “Give me likewise a cup of the milk; and may your +pitcher never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, any more than for +the needy wayfarer!” + +The supper being now over, the strangers requested to be shown to their +place of repose. The old people would gladly have talked with them a +little longer, and have expressed the wonder which they felt, and their +delight at finding the poor and meagre supper prove so much better and +more abundant than they hoped. But the elder traveller had inspired +them with such reverence, that they dared not ask him any questions. +And when Philemon drew Quicksilver aside, and inquired how under the sun +a fountain of milk could have got into air old earthen pitcher, this +latter personage pointed to his staff. + +“There is the whole mystery of the affair,” quoth Quicksilver; “and if +you can make it out, I’ll thank you to let me know. I can’t tell what +to make of my staff. It is always playing such odd tricks as this; +sometimes getting me a supper, and, quite as often, stealing it away. +If I had any faith in such nonsense, I should say the stick was +bewitched!” + +He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces, that they rather +fancied he was laughing at them. The magic staff went hopping at his +heels, as Quicksilver quitted the room. When left alone, the good old +couple spent some little time in conversation about the events of the +evening, and then lay down on the floor, and fell fast asleep. They had +given up their sleeping-room to the guests, and had no other bed for +themselves, save these planks, which I wish had been as soft as their +own hearts. + +The old man and his wife were stirring, betimes, in the morning, and the +strangers likewise arose with the sun, and made their preparations to +depart. Philemon hospitably entreated them to remain a little longer, +until Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon the hearth, and, +perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs, for breakfast. The guests, +however, seemed to think it better to accomplish a good part of their +journey before the heat of the day should come on. They, therefore, +persisted in setting out immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to +walk forth with them a short distance, and show them the road which they +were to take. + +So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting together like old +friends. It was very remarkable indeed, how familiar the old couple +insensibly grew with the elder traveller, and how their good and simple +spirits melted into his, even as two drops of water would melt into the +illimitable ocean. And as for Quicksilver, with his keen, quick, +laughing wits, he appeared to discover every little thought that but +peeped into their minds, before they suspected it themselves. They +sometimes wished, it is true, that he had not been quite so quick-witted, +and also that he would fling away his staff, which looked so +mysteriously mischievous, with the snakes always writhing about it. +But then, again, Quicksilver showed himself so very good-humored, that +they would have been rejoiced to keep him in their cottage, staff, +snakes, and all, every day, and the whole day long. + +“Ah me! Well-a-day!” exclaimed Philemon, when they had walked a little +way from their door. “If our neighbors only knew what a blessed thing +it is to show hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their +dogs, and never allow their children to fling another stone.” + +“It is a sin and shame for them to behave so,--that it is!” cried good +old Baucis, vehemently. “And I mean to go this very day, and tell some +of then what naughty people they are!” + +“I fear,” remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, “that you will find none +of them at home.” + +The elder traveller’s brow, just then, assumed such a grave, stern, and +awful grandeur, yet serene withal, that neither Baucis nor Philemon +dared to speak a word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if they +had been gazing at the sky. + +“When men do not feel towards the humblest stranger as if he were a +brother,” said the traveller, in tones so deep that they sounded like +those of an organ, “they are unworthy to exist on earth, which was +created as the abode of a great human brotherhood!” + +“And, by the by, my dear old people,” cried Quicksilver, with the +liveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, “where is this same +village that you talk about? On which side of us does it lie? Methinks +I do not see it hereabouts.” + +Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where, at sunset, only +the day before, they had seen the meadows, the houses, the gardens, the +clumps of trees, the wide, green-margined street, with children playing +in it, and all the tokens of business, enjoyment, and prosperity. But +what was their astonishment! There was no longer any appearance of a +village! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of which it lay, had +ceased to have existence. In its stead, they beheld the broad, blue +surface of a lake, which filled the great basin of the valley, from brim +to brim, and reflected the surrounding bills in its bosom, with as +tranquil an image as if it had been there ever since the creation of the +world. For an instant, the lake remained perfectly smooth. Then, a +little breeze sprang up, and caused the water to dance, glitter, and +sparkle in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a pleasant rippling +murmur, against the hither shore. + +The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old couple were greatly +perplexed, and felt as if they could only have been dreaming about a +village having lain there. But, the next moment, they remembered the +vanished dwellings, and the faces and characters of the inhabitants, far +too distinctly for a dream. The village had been there yesterday, and +now was gone! + +“Alas!” cried these kind-hearted old people, “what has become of our +poor neighbors?” + +“They exist no longer as men and women,” said the elder traveller, in +his grand and deep voice, while a roll of thunder seemed to echo it at a +distance. “There was neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs: +for they never softened or sweetened the hard lot of mortality by the +exercise of kindly affections between man and man. They retained no +image of the better life in their bosoms; therefore, the lake, that was +of old, has spread itself forth again, to reflect the sky!” + +“And as for those foolish people,” said Quicksilver, with his +mischievous smile, “they are all transformed to fishes. There needed +but little change, for they were already a scaly set of rascals, and the +coldest-blooded beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis, whenever +you or your husband have an appetite for a dish of broiled trout, he can +throw in a line, and pull out half a dozen of your old neighbors!” + +“Ah,” cried Baucis, shuddering, “I would not, for the world, put one of +them on the gridiron!” + +“No,” added Philemon, making a wry face, “we could never relish them!” + +“As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder traveller,--“and you, +kind Baucis,--you, with your scanty means, have mingled so much +heartfelt hospitality with your entertainment of the homeless stranger, +that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nectar, and the brown +loaf and the honey were ambrosia. Thus, the divinities have feasted, at +your board, off the same viands that supply their banquets on Olympus. +You have done well, my dear old friends. Wherefore, request whatever +favor you have most at heart, and it is granted.” + +Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then,--I know not which +of the two it was who spoke, but that one uttered the desire of both +their hearts. + +“Let us live together, while we live, and leave the world at the same +instant, when we die! For we have always loved one another!” + +“Be it so!” replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. “Now, look +towards your cottage!” + +They did so. But what was their surprise, on beholding a tall edifice +of white marble, with a wide-open portal, occupying the spot where their +humble residence had so lately stood! + +“There is your home,” said the stranger, beneficently smiling on them +both. “Exercise your hospitality in yonder palace, as freely as in the +poor hovel to which you welcomed us last evening.” + +The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! neither he +nor Quicksilver was there. + +So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the marble palace, and +spent their time, with vast satisfaction to themselves, in making +everybody jolly and comfortable who happened to pass that way. The +milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its marvellous quality +of being never empty, when it was desirable to have it full. Whenever +an honest, good-humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from this +pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and most invigorating fluid +that ever ran down his throat. But, if a cross and disagreeable +curmudgeon happened to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visage +into a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk! + +Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great while, and grew +older and older, and very old indeed. At length, however, there came a +summer morning when Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance, +as on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspreading both their +pleasant faces, to invite the guests of overnight to breakfast. The +guests searched everywhere, from top to bottom of the spacious palace, +and all to no purpose. But, after a great deal of perplexity, they +espied, in front of the portal, two venerable trees, which nobody could +remember to have seen there the day before. Yet there they stood, with +their roots fastened deep into the soil, and a huge breadth of foliage +overshadowing the whole front of the edifice. One was an oak, and the +other a linden-tree. Their boughs it was strange and beautiful to +see--were intertwined together, and embraced one another, so that each +tree seemed to live in the other tree’s bosom, much more than in its own. + +While the guests were marvelling how these trees, that must have +required at least a century to grow, could have come to be so tall and +venerable in a single night, a breeze sprang up, and set their +intermingled boughs astir. And then there was a deep, broad murmur in +the air, as if the two mysterious trees were speaking. + +“I am old Philemon!” murmured the oak. + +“I am old Baucis!” murmured the linden-tree. + +But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke at once,--“Philemon! +Baucis! Baucis! Philemon!”--as if one were both and both +were one, and talking together in the depths of their mutual heart. It +was plain enough to perceive that the good old couple had renewed their +age, and were now to spend a quiet and delightful hundred years or so, +Philemon as an oak, and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what a +hospitable shade did they fling around them! Whenever a wayfarer paused +beneath it, he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves above his head, +and wondered how the sound should so much resemble words like these:-- + +“Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome!” + +And some kind soul, that knew what would have pleased old Baucis and old +Philemon best, built a circular seat around both their trunks, where, +for a great while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the thirsty +used to repose themselves, and quaff milk abundantly out of the +miraculous pitcher. + +And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher here now! + + + +THE HILLSIDE. + +AFTER THE STORY. + +“How much did the pitcher hold?” asked Sweet Fern. + +“It did not hold quite a quart,” answered the student; “but you might +keep pouring milk out of it, till you should fill a hogshead, if you +pleased. The truth is, it would run on forever, and not be dry even at +midsummer,--which is more than can be said of yonder rill, that goes +babbling down the hillside.” + +“And what has become of the pitcher now?” inquired the little boy. + +“It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty-five thousand years +ago,” replied Cousin Eustace. “The people mended it as well as they +could; but, though it would hold milk pretty well, it was never +afterwards known to fill itself of its own accord. So, you see, it was +no better than any other cracked earthen pitcher.” + +“What a pity!” cried all the children at once. + +The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the party, as did likewise a +half-grown Newfoundland puppy, who went by the name of Bruin, because +he was just as black as a bear. Ben, being elderly, and of very +circumspect habits, was respectfully requested, by Cousin Eustace, to +stay behind with the four little children, in order to keep them out of +mischief. As for black Bruin, who was himself nothing but a child, the +student thought it best to take him along, lest, in his rude play with +the other children, he should trip them up, and send them rolling and +tumbling down the bill. Advising Cowslip, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, and +Squashblossom to sit pretty still, in the spot where he left them, the +student, with Primrose and the elder children, began to ascend, and were +soon out of sight among the trees. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Miraculous Pitcher, by Nathaniel Hawthorne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER *** + +***** This file should be named 9258-0.txt or 9258-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/2/5/9258/ + +Produced by David Widger + +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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