{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44924/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44924","id":"gutenberg_44924","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44924","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Children's stories","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Fairies -- Juvenile fiction","Fairy tales","Fantasy literature","Magic -- Juvenile fiction","Pets -- Juvenile fiction","Uncles -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 44924-h.htm or 44924-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/44924/pg44924-images.html)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/44924/44924-h.zip)\n\n\n      Images of the original pages are available through\n      the Google Books Library Project. See\n      http://www.google.com/books?id=2Xo-AQAAMAAJ\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _Front._        ZAC WINS THE PIG-RACE.--P. 57]\n\n\nUNCLE JOE'S STORIES\n\nby\n\nTHE RIGHT HON. E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN, M.P.\n\nWith Illustrations by Ernest Griset\n\n\nLondon\nGeorge Routledge and Sons\nBroadway, Ludgate Hill\nNew York: 416 Broome Street\n1879\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                                 PAGE\n\nUNCLE JOE                                                           1\n\nZAC'S BRIDE                                                        40\n\nEVELYN WITH THE FAIRIES                                           106\n\nCAT AND DOG                                                       183\n\nOPHELIA                                                           223\n\nTHE CRONES OF MERSHAM                                             285\n\n\n\n\nTO ALL NAUGHTY CHILDREN\n\n(IF THERE BE ANY SUCH LEFT IN ENGLAND)\n\nThis Book\n\nIS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.\n\n\nMY DEAR CHILDREN--\n\nYes--you are \"dear,\" and will be very \"dear\" to your parents and\nfriends if you continue to be naughty. I dedicate this little book to\nyou because I have been told (though it is scarcely possible to believe\nit) that I was once a naughty child myself. If it be true, it was a\n_very_ long time ago; and then there were not nearly so many pretty\n\"children's books\" as there are now, so I had not the same chance as\nyou have of knowing how much best it is to be good. As soon as I found\nthis out, I began to be good directly, and now I advise you all to do\nthe same.\n\nWhilst you are thinking how to manage it, you cannot do better than\nread a few stories about Fairies, Pigmies, Witches, and such-like\ninteresting creatures. In these stories you will find that the good\npeople always come out right at last, and the naughty people get into\nthe most disagreeable scrapes. Well, this is just the same with\ncreatures who are not Fairies nor Pigmies, nor anything of the sort. So\nas soon as you have read these stories--or even before doing so if you\ncan--leave off being naughty and be good as fast as possible. By so\ndoing you will make everybody about you happy, will become more and\nmore happy yourselves, and will show that Fairy stories are really of\nsome use. In this case we must have another book next year, and\nmeanwhile I remain your affectionate friend,\n\nE. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n                                                                 PAGE\n\nZACK WINS THE PIG-RACE (_Zac's Bride_)                             57\n\nEVELYN MEETS THE FAIRIES (_Evelyn with the Fairies_)              122\n\nTHE CAT'S LAST MUSIC-LESSON (_Cat and Dog_)                       212\n\nEND OF FAMCRAM (_Ophelia_)                                        280\n\nMARY AND BILLY MEET THE CRONES (_The Crones of Mersham_)          305\n\nSIMPLE STEENIE AND THE GRAY MAN ON THE STROLL (_The Crones\n    of Mersham_)                                                  344\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nI had almost made up my mind to write no more Fairy Tales, to let\nsprites and elves alone for ever, and to refrain from any further\nresearch into the dark and mysterious doings of warlocks and witches\nin the olden time. But fate is stronger than the will of man, and I\nam powerless to resist the influences brought to induce--nay, to\ncompel--me to alter my determination. It is not only that verbal and\nwritten requests have come to me from many quarters which it is\ndifficult to resist; it is not only that I am tired of being asked when\nmy new book is coming out, and of being generally disbelieved when I\nanswer \"never.\" There is a stronger influence still. Fairies and elves\nhave an extraordinary power which they exercise over those who have\nonce sought to pry into their mysteries. If once you have dealings with\nsuch creatures, you can rarely, if ever, leave them. There is a\nfatality which urges you on--an irresistible fascination in the subject\nwhich brings you back to it again and again, and obliges you to recur\nto it in spite of yourself. When I walk out in the woods, or ramble\nthrough the fields alone, the objects which appear ordinary and\ncommonplace to people who have, unhappily for themselves, neglected to\nstudy Fairy Lore, bear to me quite a different appearance. I see traces\nof the little beings which are not visible to the careless, still less\nto the unbelieving eye. I hear voices which are inaudible to the ear\nof the incredulous; and even without this, Fancy--free, glorious\nFancy--clothes the grass, the flowers, the bushes, the trees, with a\nbeauty of her own, and peoples every fairy haunt with a spirit company.\nIs it only Fancy? Ah! that is just what nobody knows. Only how could I\ntell so many different stories if nobody told them to me first?\n\nThat is a question I should like people to put to themselves calmly and\nquietly, and if they think, after full consideration, that some person\nor persons must have told me these curious stories, I hope they will\ncome to the conclusion that I am only doing what is right and fair in\npassing them on to other people, so that the world may know as much as\nI do about the strange and wonderful beings to whom these stories\nrelate.\n\n\n\n\nUNCLE JOE'S STORIES.\n\n\n\n\nUNCLE JOE.\n\n\nI do not think that I ever met so extraordinary a man as Uncle Joe in\nall my life. We children were all very fond of him, because he had an\ninexhaustible supply of stories, and those, too, of a kind which are\nespecially popular with children. He had exciting stories of almost\nevery sort: of thrilling adventures by land and sea, of captures by\npirates, hair-breadth escapes from Red Indians; fearful conflicts with\nrobbers; terrible struggles with wild animals; and strange encounters\nwith sea-serpents or similarly wonderful creatures. Then he knew an\nimmense deal about giants and dwarfs, witches and wizards, ogres and\nvampires, and he also possessed no little insight into all that\nconcerned fairies and fairy-land. He could tell of the little sea fairy\nthat rode on the crest of the wave, basking pleasantly when the sun\nshone down on a calm still ocean, and shrieking madly with frenzied\ndelight when the winds lashed the waves into fury, and carried her\nforward on the great flakes of snow-like foam; of the fairy who looked\nafter some particular house or family, and always appeared to warn them\nof danger just at the right moment, or to disclose a buried treasure,\nexactly in time to save them from ruin; and of the happy little\nwoodland fairies, who are to be found in the deep glades and dark\nravines of the wild forest, and about whom such innumerable legends\nhave from time to time been written by some of those fortunate mortals\nwho have visited and been aided by them in time of sickness or danger,\nand who have in gratitude chronicled their power.\n\nNothing delighted Uncle Joe so much as to tell one of his charming\nstories to us, eager listeners as we always were. He liked to get one\nchild on each knee, and to have the others clustering round as near as\npossible, and then he would start off and go on just for all the world\nas if he was only reading from a book.\n\nLooking back now, with the calmer judgment of riper years, I hardly\nknow which was most wonderful, the unlimited power of invention of\nUncle Joe, or the boundless credulity of us children. Because no man\ncould by any possibility have gone through half the wonderful\nadventures of which he pretended to have been the hero, if he had lived\nto twice the ordinary age of man, and kept on searching for adventures\nall the time. Besides, it would have been five hundred to one against\nhis escaping every time, as Uncle Joe always did, \"by the skin o' his\nteeth.\"\n\nOnce he was tied to the stake, and just going to be scalped by the\nIndians, when some miraculous thing (I forget what at this moment)\noccurred to save him; once he was in the very coils of an enormous\nsnake, and was yet preserved; and at another time, he was actually\nswallowed by a crocodile, (I am sure I don't know how he got down its\nthroat without a disabling nip from some of those teeth which I have\nnoticed in the mouths of stuffed crocodiles in museums,) and escaped by\nmeans of employing his penknife in a manner too disagreeable to\ndescribe. In short, there never was a man who, according to his own\naccount, had gone through such a series of remarkable adventures as\nUncle Joe, and I am therefore quite justified in pronouncing him to\nhave been a most extraordinary man.\n\nI have never discovered what really was Uncle Joe's profession or\noccupation. For anything I know, he may have been a soldier, a sailor,\nor a horse-marine; though, for the matter of that, I have so little\nconception of what may be the duties of persons engaged in the latter\nprofession, that I should dispute the claims of nobody who averred that\nhe had belonged to it. All I know is, that he wore a blue coat with\nbrass buttons, had a hooked nose and a bright eye, and only possessed\none arm; the other I solemnly declare I have heard him state, on\ndifferent occasions, to have been shot off in battle, lost in saving\nlife from a shipwreck, when it got jammed between two planks of the\nsinking ship, and bitten off by a tiger, under circumstances the\ndetails of which I do not happen to remember--it was gone, however,\nanyhow, was that left-arm of Uncle Joe's, and its loss must have had\nthis great consolation, that it furnished a foundation upon which he\nbuilt many a romance, pleasing to himself, and interesting to his\nlisteners.\n\nHe had been a mighty traveller, had Uncle Joe. From Canada to the\nfarthest extremity of South America, from Constantinople to Hong-Kong,\nfrom the Straits of Gibraltar to the Cape, all was familiar to him;\nwhilst, as to continental Europe, there seemed to be no hole or corner\nwhich he had not explored. England was like his own house to him; that\nis to say, he knew every county and town in one as well as he knew\nevery room in the other. In fact, to hear him talk on these subjects,\nyou never would for a moment have guessed that which was the real\ntruth, namely, that he had never been further from England than Paris,\nand had been so particularly ill in crossing the channel that nothing\nbut the fear of the laughter of his friends, coupled with his total and\nentire ignorance of the French language, prevented his settling in\nFrance for the rest of his life, sooner than again undergo the ordeal\nof that terrible passage.\n\nHappily for us children, (for this occurred before we were at the age\nof story-hearing, or indeed at any age at all,) he _did_ face the\nchannel once more, and never sought to tempt it again. But all this I\nonly learned many years after, and during the whole of the early\nportion of my life, I (in common, I am sure, with the great majority of\nhis acquaintance) set Uncle Joe down as a man who had seen more of the\nworld than most living men, and knew more of the geography of foreign\nlands, as well as of the customs and manners of their inhabitants, than\nanyone whom I ordinarily met.\n\nWith all this sin, if sin it be, of exaggeration, (one wishes to use a\nmild word in speaking of a relative,) Uncle Joe's virtues greatly\npredominated over any defects which he may have possessed. He was\ngood-natured to a fault--forgiving beyond most men--tender-hearted--a\nfaithful friend--and full of sympathy for the woes and sorrows of\nothers. I believe he lost a large sum of money in early life by\nbecoming surety for some one whom he thought to be a friend, and who\nturned out to be an arrant scoundrel. Anyhow, he was far from rich, and\nwas not one of those uncles who have always got a sovereign ready for a\nnephew going to school, or for spending at the confectioner's, if he\ncomes to see a young relative during school-time. Still, Uncle Joe was\nthe most popular of all our relations so far as the public opinion of\nthe school-room was concerned, and every juvenile heart rejoiced when\nwe were told that he was coming to spend Christmas at our home.\n\nUpon one occasion he was expected to arrive upon the day before\nChristmas Eve, and we were all greatly delighted at the prospect. Fanny\nand Kitty, my two eldest sisters, were looking forward with much\npleasure to the visits to the school-room which Uncle Joe always paid\nabout tea-time, not only on account of the stories we were sure to\nhear, but because it was so very amusing to see the violent efforts\nwhich Miss Crinkles, the governess, used to make in order to avoid\ngoing into fits of laughter at some of our uncle's jokes, and the\nentire--though only temporary--loss of dignity which followed her\ninevitable failure to keep her countenance. Tom and Gerald and I (Harry\nis my name, and I was about twelve at the time of this story) were\nequally interested, and little Lucy and Mary were employed for several\ndays beforehand in putting on their dolls' best dresses, that they\nmight be in a fit state to receive this honoured relation.\n\nWell, the day before Christmas Eve came--as it always comes every year,\nif you only look out for it--and our hearts beat high with expectation\nof Uncle Joe. But no Uncle Joe appeared at luncheon time (he often\nturned up about that time) and when tea-time had arrived, the hoped-for\nvisit was not paid. Presently the dressing-bell rang, half-an-hour\nbefore dinner, and still no Uncle Joe. Even my father began to fidget\nnow, and to wonder where the expected guest could be, and my mother\nbecame positively uneasy. If there was one thing rather than another\nabout which our uncle was particular, it was the important point of\nbeing in time for dinner. The reason he always gave for this\nparticularity was his sense of the unfairness to the cook which was\noccasioned by unpunctuality. No cook, he said, could contend against\nit, and you had no right to expect a good dinner unless you were ready\nto eat it at the hour for which it had been ordered.\n\nThe knowledge of this opinion on the part of Uncle Joe, and of the\nfirmness--not to say obstinacy--with which he always maintained\nit--increased the uneasiness of my parents as the dinner hour grew\nnearer and nearer without his appearance, and when half-past seven\narrived, and still no Uncle Joe, matters were held to be so serious\nthat messengers were despatched in several directions to make inquiries\nwhether anything had been heard or seen of the expected visitor. It was\nfortunate that this step was taken, because otherwise there exists a\nviolent probability that this story might never have been told, and we\nchildren should have had to mourn over the loss of our favourite\nrelative.\n\nUncle Joe was found lying by the roadside, barely a mile from our gate,\nat a spot where a path ran parallel with the road, but some twelve feet\nabove it. His head was bruised and his left-arm broken, and, when\nfound, he was insensible. There was snow on the ground: it had frozen\nduring the day, and, about seven o'clock, light flakes of snow had\nbegun to fall again, so that if my poor uncle had lain where he was\nmuch longer, he would either have been covered with snow, or frozen,\nand could in no case have come well out of the business. His story was,\nthat, finding that he was at the station, some five miles off, in good\ntime, he thought he would walk over to our house and have his\nportmanteau sent for from thence.\n\nSome two miles from home there stood (and still stands) a convenient\npublic-house by the road-side, bearing the respectable sign of \"The\nDuke's Head,\" a staring picture of the head and shoulders of a man,\ndisplaying the prominent nose and distinctive features of the great\nDuke of Wellington, swinging gaily in front of the said inn. I believe\nit is a very old inn, and was originally named after the great Duke of\nMarlborough, and if England ever has another \"great\" Duke, I do not\ndoubt that _his_ picture will replace the present one, and the sign\nwill do equally well for _him_.\n\nAt this hostelry, said Uncle Joe, he had pulled up to have a glass of\nhot brandy-and-water to cheer him on his way, and remembered to have\nobserved several rough-looking characters hanging about the place at\nthe time. He journeyed on, and at the spot at which he was found had\nbeen attacked by three foot-pads, whom he declared that he had resisted\nstoutly, but a blow with a short stick delivered by one of them had\nfelled him to the earth with a broken arm, while he had been rendered\ninsensible by a similar blow upon the head. The robbers seemed to have\nhad some object other than that of mere plunder, for although Uncle Joe\ndeclared that they had taken all his money but half-a-crown, which was\nfound in his waistcoat-pocket, yet it was so seldom that he had much\nmore cash about him, that no one imagined that the robbers' booty could\nhave been great, whilst they had left his big silver watch and chain\nuntouched, and also the large old-fashioned silver pencil-case, which\nhe always carried about with him. This he attributed to the\nstubbornness of his resistance, which had made the thieves glad to get\naway from the neighbourhood of so desperate a fellow as quickly as\npossible.\n\nThey were never traced, and as the snow soon afterwards came on more\nheavily, their footsteps could have been scarcely seen after the space\nof a very short time, and no one could tell in which direction they had\nfled. There were some people, indeed, who winked their eyes wickedly,\nand laid their fore-finger waggishly against the side of their noses\nwhenever allusion was made to the attack upon Uncle Joe. They were\nunkind enough to declare that our good relative's story was true enough\nup to the time of his stopping at the \"Duke's Head,\" but that at that\npoint he had quitted the limits of strict veracity. They pretended to\nhave the authority of the landlord of that highly respectable inn for\nthe fact, that Uncle Joe, soon after six o'clock, came in and had, not\none glass, but three good \"stiff\" tumblers of brandy-and-water before\nresuming his journey. They further maintained that he had gone on\nmerrily for a while after this, but that it had had sufficient effect\nupon him to have rendered it very desirable that he should have kept in\nthe road instead of following the pathway above it. Choosing the\nlatter, however, he had lost his equilibrium at the spot near which he\nwas found, tumbled down the steep bank into the road, and in this\nmanner received the injuries to head and arm which he had undoubtedly\nsustained. The landlord, moreover, said these unbelievers, indignantly\ndenied that any \"rough-looking characters\" had been near his house upon\nthat day, and declared that the only people there at or about the time\nof Uncle Joe's visit were some Christmas ringers and singers preparing\nfor, or proceeding with, their visits to the neighbouring villages,\nwith the view of exchanging carols and hymns for pence and half-pence\nwherever they found Christian people ready for such a transaction.\n\nThese reports and doubts, however, about Uncle Joe's misfortune never\nreached us children at the time, and, if they had, we should not for a\nmoment have attached the smallest weight to them. In our eyes the\nmatter was one which placed our esteemed relative still higher in the\nrank of heroes to which our childish thoughts had long since raised\nhim. Nor were we frightened at the idea of foot-pads or highwaymen\nhaving suddenly made their unwonted appearance in our happy and\ntranquil neighbourhood. It seemed to us only natural that curious and\nunusual things should attend Uncle Joe wherever he went, and it was\nwith him and his life, and not with our home and its surroundings, that\nwe connected the circumstance of this new feature in the locality.\n\nHowever, the truth or falsehood of the story mattered little to us, so\nlong as we had got our uncle safe and sound after all. There he was,\nand there he continued for several weeks; for a broken head and arm\nrequired attention, and he was nowhere so likely to receive it as at\nour house. During this long visit we saw more of Uncle Joe than we had\never done before, and it soon became an established practice that,\nafter our tea and before dressing-time, he should narrate to us some of\nthose wonderful stories of which I have spoken.\n\nOne of these I will relate, as nearly as possible in the words of my\nrevered uncle, in order that my readers may be able to imagine the kind\nof way in which all his stories were told. But the other tales which I\npropose to chronicle I will tell after a different fashion, relating\nthe substance of Uncle Joe's narrative, but leaving out the personal\nallusions to his own prowess with which it was embellished. Those who\nread have only to imagine that in the chief personage in every story\nthey discern Uncle Joe, and they will easily discover the little\nalterations which I have thought it well to make in order to vary the\nform of each tale. The one which I am now going to tell was a favourite\none with us boys, but the girls did not like so much killing, and\nrather thought Uncle Joe must have been a more cruel man in the days\nwhen these adventures happened to him than at the time he recounted\nthem. Since then I have read a great many books from the pen of Cooper,\nCaptain Mayne Reid, and Gustave Aimard, all dealing with the doings of\nRed Indians, their subtlety, their treachery, their implacable revenge,\nand other pleasing characteristics, and I have often thought that Uncle\nJoe must have intended a parody upon some of their most stirring\nrecitals of Indian adventure in the following story. But, most\ncertainly, he told it as having happened to himself, and threw so much\nvehemence into his manner of telling it, that we children never for a\nmoment doubted that such was the case.\n\nI remember quite well the day he first told it to us; and how intensely\ninterested in it we all were. He began it at tea-time: I think he liked\nto tell his most extraordinary and unlikely stories at tea-time for the\nbenefit of Miss Crinkles, and I sometimes wonder that the questions she\noccasionally asked him did not create a suspicion in our minds that\nthere was some doubt as to the truth of some of his facts. But no such\nsuspicion, as far as I can recollect, ever dawned upon our childish\nimaginations, and the only result of Miss Crinkles' questions was to\nimbue us with increased awe and respect for our uncle, whom even our\ngoverness could not readily understand without asking for further\ninformation. It was, I say, at tea-time that this story was begun, and,\nI think, finished. One of us boys had expressed a great desire to hear\nof some Indian adventures, and Uncle Joe, ever ready to oblige, at once\ncommenced the following narrative, perhaps one of the least likely of\nthe many marvellous tales with which he ever favoured us.\n\n\"It was during the time which I passed in America that some of the\nstrangest and wildest adventures of my life happened. Perhaps none of\nthese was more remarkable than that which I am about to relate to you,\nand indeed I question whether many people exist who have ever\nencountered an adventure so extraordinary. I had roamed some way\nthrough the dense forest, far from any human habitation, accompanied\nonly by my faithful dog \"Jumbo,\" a magnificent Cuban bloodhound, who\nnever left my side, and was the cleverest as well as the bravest animal\nI ever possessed. I had with me my trusty double-barrelled rifle, a\nrevolver, and a hunting-knife, and had for many days depended for my\nsupply of food upon my skill as a marksman. I remember that it was a\nlovely day, and as the dense foliage of the woods protected me from the\nheat of the sun, I rambled on and on in pleasant and listless security\nfor many a mile. At length it happened that I approached a large tree,\nstanding rather apart from its forest companions, and conspicuous not\nonly by the size of its trunk, but by the magnificent limbs which it\nthrew out on every side. I was already within a few yards of this tree\nwhen I observed something which caused me to stand still and gaze upon\nit before I advanced further. One large branch hung across my line of\nmarch, and in a few seconds I should have passed immediately beneath\nit; but it was something in connection with this very branch which\narrested my footsteps. The day was perfectly calm and still; not a\nbreath of wind was to be perceived, and yet I fancied that I saw the\nleaves with which this branch was thickly covered, tremble and rustle\njust as if a breeze was blowing through them. As I stood wondering what\ncould be the cause of this strange occurrence, and doubtful whether or\nnot to proceed, my doubts were cleared away in a manner more alarming\nthan agreeable. Suddenly I perceived, rearing itself among the leaves,\nthe hideous head of a gigantic snake. In another instant, whether to\nre-arrange its position or for what other reason I know not, the\nreptile dropped down from the branch to the length of some three or\nfour feet, and swing for a moment or two like the pendulum of a clock,\nfrom the branch around which its tail and part of its body remained\ncurled. I could not tell how long or large it might be, but I saw quite\nsufficient to assure me that it was a snake of very great size, and I\nshuddered to think of my possible fate had I passed beneath the branch\nin ignorance of its terrible tenant.\n\n\"I hastily retraced my steps for a few yards, and passing the tree at\nsome little distance, determined to quit the neighbourhood of so\ndangerous a creature. The tree upon which it had taken up its position\nwas upon the side of a somewhat steep hill, and it so happened that I\nhad walked some way along the said hill very much lower down, and was\nnow working my way back in a line parallel to my previous passage.\n\n\"I had not gone many yards beyond the snake's tree, before the manner\nof my dog attracted my attention. He threw up his head, sniffed the air\nuneasily, and then gave vent to a low whine which, from previous\nexperience, I knew full well to betoken the presence of danger. At the\nsame moment, listening with eager attention, and with an acuteness of\nhearing which those only possess who live such a life of wild,\ndangerous activity as mine was at that time, I fancied that I heard the\ncracking of a stick under the foot of man. It seemed to be at some\ndistance off, and apparently far below where I was standing. The trees\nwere too thick to enable me to see far, but creeping forward a little,\nand standing on the trunk of a fallen tree, I endeavoured to look down\nthe hill as much as the fall of the ground permitted. It so happened\nthat there was a space of ground somewhat less thickly surrounded by\ntrees than the rest of the forest, over which I had passed in my\nprevious journey, and it was upon this space that I looked, being many\nfeet above it. You may imagine my feelings when I caught sight of an\nIndian, fully armed and decked in his war-paint, just crossing this\nspace, and evidently examining the ground before him with the greatest\ncare. I should have thought but little of this, indeed, but for that\nwhich followed. He crossed the space, and immediately after him came\nnine of his companions, horrible-looking creatures, travelling in\nsingle file and closely following in their leader's footsteps. Horror\nof horrors! they were upon my track. I knew it but too well! there was\nI, alone in the wild forest, with no less than ten deadly foes after\nme, whose object undoubtedly was to take my life, and not improbably\nwith some of those tortures with which Indians delight to amuse\nthemselves at the expense of their captives.\n\n\"Now I happened to have a decided preference for living, if I could,\nand, if I _must_ die, for dying in a respectable manner. The idea\nof having my scalp torn from my head, and hung up in the wigwam of a\nwild savage, was extremely repugnant to me, and I determined at once to\navoid such an unpleasant catastrophe if I possibly could. The question\nwas, however, as to the best way in which this could be accomplished.\nIf I pushed on through the forest, it could not be long before these\nenemies, hardy and used to the woods, and animated with their savage\ndesire for my life, would overtake me, when, perhaps, I might be too\nfatigued to offer any real resistance. If I stood firm where I was,\nwhat could I hope to do against ten men? If, on the other hand, I\nassumed a friendly air and advanced to meet them, I knew their\ntreacherous nature too well to harbour for an instant the thought that\nthey would treat me otherwise than as a captive taken in war. Indeed,\nshould it be otherwise, my best fate would probably be to be obliged to\njoin their tribe, very likely to marry several very unpleasant squaws,\nand to drag out my weary existence far away from scenes into which\nchristianity or civilisation had penetrated. My aim, then, must be to\nescape from the clutches of these savages by some method or another,\nand I was indeed puzzled what to do. I had not much time to deliberate,\nand after a moment's thought, I decided to lie down flat behind the\ntrunk of the tree on which I had been standing, and calmly await the\nevent. I looked carefully to my rifle and revolver, both of which I\nascertained to be loaded and ready for action, I bid my brave Jumbo lie\ndown at my feet, which the intelligent animal immediately did,\ncrouching quite close to the fallen tree, and then, having so disposed\nmy body that I could see under one of the branches of the tree, and\nwatch the approach of my enemies, I remained still and hoped for the\nbest. It seemed to me hours before they came near. In reality it could\nnot have been much more than half an hour, for the spot at which I had\nseen them could have been barely three miles, even by the zig-zag line\nwhich I had followed, and as I, having had no suspicion of the presence\nof a foe, had taken no precaution to conceal my track, they were not\ndelayed in their pursuit by any trouble in discovering my footsteps. On\nthey came, steadily and silently, and I saw them from my hiding-place\nrapidly approaching me. The foremost Indian had already arrived at the\nspot from which I had gazed at the overhanging branch and its fearful\noccupant, and stopped for an instant at the place where my footsteps\nended, evidently puzzled as to what I had done, and where I had gone\nfrom that point.\n\n\"Not long, however, did he hesitate, but, casting a glance right and\nleft, moved rapidly forward towards the tree, to discover whether any\ntraces were to be found in that direction. Three or four of his rapid,\nnoiseless strides brought him beneath the fatal branch: enemy as he\nwas, I longed to warn him, despite the danger to myself, but it was\nmore than I dared venture to do, and in another instant it was too\nlate. With sudden and awful rapidity the snake darted downwards from\nthe branch and struck the unfortunate wretch--a piercing yell rang\nthrough the woods, but the victim cried in vain. Encircled by the coils\nof the mighty reptile, his doom was sealed beyond hope, and I turned my\nhead from the horrible sight of the last struggles of my miserable foe.\nHis companions rushed hastily back as they saw their leader's fate, and\nI earnestly hoped that this misfortune would have induced them to\ndesist from their pursuit. It was not so, however, but after the lapse\nof a few moments only, I saw them making casts like hounds directed by\na huntsman, and presently they discovered the place where I had turned\naside, and came eagerly forward on my track. There was no time to be\nlost: they were little more than twenty yards from my tree, and I had a\nfull view of them. Nine more savage-looking rascals you never saw.\nTheir war-paint made them appear even more ugly than nature had made\nthem, although that was somewhat difficult. Only three of them carried\nrifles, the rest being armed, as far as I could see, only with\ntomahawks and hunting-knives. They were evidently \"braves,\" or\nwarriors, all of them, and by their appearance and the expression upon\ntheir faces, I felt very sure that they were in that excited state that\nmy chance of mercy would be but small if I should be so unfortunate as\nto fall into their hands. I determined, therefore, to act with vigour\nand decision, and, if the worst came to the worst, to sell my life\ndearly at all events. When, therefore, my enemies were barely fifteen\nyards from me, I suddenly sprang to my feet, uttering at the same time\nthe loudest and most outlandish howl I could command, by way of a\nwar-cry, which Jumbo echoed by a bark more like the roar of a lion than\nthe sound made by an ordinary dog. As I had expected, this sudden\nmovement on my part took the Indians entirely by surprise, and caused\nthem to come to a halt on the instant. Whilst they were thus stationary\nI fired both barrels of my rifle as quickly as possible, selecting as\ntheir object two of those who had firearms in their hands. The foremost\nman threw up his arms and dropped like a log, whilst the bullet of the\nsecond barrel, fired somewhat hastily, only struck an Indian in the\nshoulder. Scarcely waiting, however, to see the result, I had no sooner\nfired than I bounded down the hill, reloading as fast as I could, and\nclosely followed by the faithful Jumbo. The Indians, disconcerted by\nthe suddenness of my appearance and attack, stood still for a moment\nwithout any effort to pursue me. Not long, however, was this the case,\nfor a wild yell of anger and revenge rang through the air, and I knew\nthat my relentless foes were again upon my track. I did not run far,\nfor being expert at loading, my rifle was soon ready, and I well knew\nthat all depended upon my speedy and effective use of the trusty\nweapon. Not fifty yards from the spot whence I had fired my first shot,\nI reached an open space, across which I bounded like a deer, and placed\nmyself behind a large tree upon the further side. A few seconds after,\nand the enemy rushed into the space, and at a glance I perceived that\nthere were only seven. My shots, then, had both told! Inspirited by\nthis good fortune, I felt my nerves grow steadier on the instant, and\nas the foremost savage bounded towards me, I fired upon him with deadly\neffect. He fell; and his six comrades immediately sought shelter in the\nbushes, but not before the shot from my second barrel reduced their\nnumber to five. Without an instant's delay, I darted down the hill\nagain, at the base of which flowed a stream which I desired to reach,\nhoping to find some place on the opposite bank where I might make a\nstand. But my pursuers, grown wise by experience, no longer followed me\ntogether, but, spreading out right and left ran silently yet swiftly\ntowards me. Full well did I know that they would do so, and that I must\nuse every stratagem within my power if I desired to escape with my\nlife.\n\n\"Accordingly, after I had gone a short distance, I seized the branch\nof a tree, and swung myself up as quietly and quickly as I could,\nmotioning to Jumbo with my hand to continue his course, which the\nclever animal did for some little way, and then stopped. It fell out as\nI had hoped. Presently a light footstep came nearer and nearer to the\ntree upon which I sat, and an Indian, creeping softly forward, stole\nactually within three yards of the spot. He passed me and went silently\nforward for a few steps, when again the report of my rifle rang through\nthe woods, and I had but four foemen to contend with. But I knew only\ntoo well the risk I had run in order thus to diminish their number.\n_I was no longer certain that all my enemies were behind me._ All I\n_did_ know was, that four active, unwounded, ferocious men were\nsomewhere near at hand, thirsting for my blood, and that I had but my\nrifle and my trusty hound to depend on to save me from their clutches.\n\n\"I remained perfectly still, not venturing even to reload my rifle, and\nlistened with an eagerness which became agony. Not a sound could I hear\nof any sort or description. The Indians had evidently become alive to\ntheir danger, and were employing all the cunning of their race in order\nto avoid their own destruction and compass mine. Jumbo also was\ncertainly aware that he had a part to play, and was in all probability\nlying still until I should summon him to my side. The suspense was\nawful, and all the more so as I knew perfectly well that a false\nmove--or perhaps any move at all--might be fatal to my hopes of escape.\n\n\"How long this state of things endured I can hardly tell you, for my\nnerves were strung to that tension that I could take no account of\ntime. It might have been, for aught I knew, five minutes or five hours,\nbut probably the former is more nearly correct. As soon as I had shot\nthe last Indian, I had drawn myself back to the thickest part of the\nbranch on which I sat, and believed that I was invisible to the eyes of\nanyone below. I soon discovered my mistake, however, and that in a\nmanner which very nearly put an end to me and my adventure together. As\nI waited anxiously for the next scene in this exciting drama, I\nsuddenly felt my hunting cap struck from my head, whilst the sound of a\nrifle-shot rang unpleasantly near to my ears: a bullet had passed\nthrough my cap within an inch of my head!\n\n\"One of the Indians had certainly caught sight of me, and, aiming from\nsome hiding-place hard by, had fired the shot which had so nearly\nproved fatal.\n\n\"Of course it would have been sheer madness to remain where I was for\none moment longer, for another shot might, and probably would, prove\nmore successful. Quick as lightning the thought flashed through my\nbrain, that my only chance was to deceive my enemy into the belief that\nhe had accomplished his purpose. Accordingly, in an instant I dropped\nheavily to the ground. Fortunately I had no great distance to fall, and\nas I did so, I kept my rifle clasped closely to my breast. It happened\nas I had anticipated, and even better than I had ventured to hope, for\nthe next moment all four of my foes came rushing through the wood from\ndifferent points, the man who had fired brandishing his rifle over his\nhead as he approached. He was within three or four yards of me when I\nsprang suddenly to my feet, and fired directly into his breast, with\nthe natural result of checking his career for ever. No sooner had I\nfired than I rushed again down the hill at full speed, calling to my\nhound as I ran.\n\n\"The three remaining Indians did not stop with their slain friend for\nan instant, but, incensed beyond measure at his death and the success\nof my stratagem, followed me at best speed, much too closely to be\npleasant. I determined, however, to reach and cross the stream if\npossible, and made every effort to do so. There was a small space\nnearly clear of trees and bushes between the edge of the wood and the\nstream, beyond which the wood again stretched away far and wide. I\nreached this space, and was within a couple of yards of the stream when\nmy foes were upon me. Fearing that they might take me at disadvantage,\nI turned and suddenly confronted them--three horrid looking ruffians\nthey were--their eyes gleaming with fury, and their appearance\naltogether enough to frighten any civilised person out of his wits.\n\n\"When I turned they were four or five yards from me--most fortunately\nnone of them had firearms, not having stayed their pursuit to pick up\nthe rifles of their deceased companions--each of them, however, had his\ntomahawk, and each hurled it at my head as I turned to face them.\nDropping suddenly on one knee, I was fortunate enough to escape these\nweapons, which all whizzed harmlessly over my head: the three men were,\nhowever, close at hand, and I had no time to escape them. At this\nmoment, however, I recollected an old trick of which I had read\nsomewhere or other, and which I instantly resolved to put in practice.\nRising from my knee, I rushed to meet one of the Indians, and as he\nfuriously came upon me, I suddenly stooped quite low, evaded the blow\nwhich he struck over me, and seizing him by both ankles, lifted him by\nsheer muscular strength over myself, so that he fell with great\nviolence upon his head several yards behind me, carried forward by the\nforce of his own weight and impetus. The other two were so confused at\nthis occurrence, that they lost the single moment in which they might\nhave struck me a deadly blow without the possibility of my warding it\noff. The next moment Jumbo sprang upon one of them, whilst I confronted\nthe other.\n\n\"My first object was to seize the wrist of the hand which held his\nhunting knife. I had no time to draw my own, and my only hope was to\ndeprive my enemy of his weapon. In an instant we closed and grappled\nfuriously. I kept firm hold of his wrist, however, well knowing that\nthis was my safety. After a short struggle we rolled on the ground\ntogether, and the Indian's hand coming in contact with something hard,\nhe dropped the fatal knife. We were now upon more equal terms, but\nstill there were many chances against me. My foe was a tall, brawny,\nmuscular man, a hardy son of the woods, and, like myself, now fighting\nfor his life. Never shall I forget that moment. In the midst of that\nterrible struggle, when I was putting forth all my strength and\nconcentrating every effort in order to gain the mastery, the pleasant\nmeadows of dear old England came up in a vision, as it were, before my\neyes, and familiar home scenes flashed like lightning across my sight.\nI redoubled my efforts, but the savage had succeeded in grasping my\nthroat with one of his hands, and it was with the greatest difficulty I\ncould draw my breath. My eyes seemed to grow dull and heavy, there was\nthe roar of ten thousand surges in my ears, my temples throbbed as if\nthey would burst, and I felt creeping over me a terrible sensation of\ndespair, which I shall never forget whilst I have power to remember\nanything.\n\n\"All at once there came upon my hearing the sound as of a short, sharp\nroar of fury--the Indian's grasp was loosened--my sight came back to\nme, again I heard, I recovered consciousness just sufficiently to see\nmy faithful Jumbo with his mighty teeth fixed in the throat of my dying\nenemy, and then I sank back in a dead faint.\n\n\"How long I remained in this state it is impossible for me to say. I\nwas awakened by a soft, cooling sensation on my forehead, and opening\nmy eyes, regained sufficient consciousness to be aware that an Indian\nmaiden was bathing my feverish brow with cold water from the\nneighbouring stream, whilst my dog, usually so ferocious, was couched\nnear, regarding her with friendly eyes, and evidently quite aware that\nshe was performing a kindly office, and was not to be interrupted. I\nstrove to speak; but my benefactress forbade me with an expressive\ngesture, placing her finger lightly upon my lips.\n\n\"'White broder no speak,' she said, in the low guttural accents of her\nrace; 'no open him lips. Silence berry good. Talkee hurt.'\n\n\"I was too confused and, I hope, too grateful to disobey, and remained\nperfectly quiet whilst the maiden continued her interesting occupation\nfor several minutes, during which time I had an opportunity of\nattentively observing her. She was certainly one of the loveliest--nay,\n_the_ loveliest of Indian maidens. Although she had not quite as\nmany clothes on as an European damsel would consider necessary, their\nabsence only served to disclose the perfect symmetry of her form, the\ngraceful rounding of her limbs, and the natural dignity of her every\nmovement. Her eyes, large and soft as those of the gazelle, were\nfringed with the most magnificent eye-lashes you can imagine, and when\nshe cast them down, she presented an ideal of female modesty and\nrefinement, which could not be surpassed by the most fashionable young\nlady that ever graced a London drawing-room. When she smiled, her face\nlighted up like that of a lovely child when, just awakened, it sees the\nloving face of its mother bending over it, and, in a word, purity,\ninnocence, and natural beauty seemed all concentrated in the form,\nfeatures, and expression of this child of the woods. Such at least was\nthe thought which occupied my breast as I lay still and gazed upon the\ngentle being who was ministering to my wants in so agreeable a manner,\nand I think I could have stayed in the same position some time longer\nwithout any great desire to move. But, after a little while, the maiden\nceased to bathe my brow, and addressing me in the same tones as before,\nsaid, 'White broder sit up now. Him better. Him no die dis time.' I\nmechanically obeyed, sat up, and felt much better already. In fact,\nthere was no reason why I should not be so, for, save and except the\nexertion and excitement which I had undergone, and the near approach to\nstrangulation from which Jumbo had providentially saved me, I had\nreally received no bodily injury. It really seems a strange thing to\nlook back upon, but here had been ten men against one poor wayfarer,\nand yet the ten had perished, and he was left alive. I did not think,\nhowever, of looking back at that moment; my thoughts were fixed upon my\nnew friend: who or what was she,--where did she come from,--could she\npossibly be one of the tribe who had been upon my trail? If so, why\ndid she not kill and scalp me whilst I lay senseless on the ground?\nHorrible thought! my head seemed to feel the knife, and I could fancy\nthe awful wrench with which one's scalp would go; but I had no need for\nsuch thoughts. My scalp was safe and sound, and the maiden evidently\ncould not belong to my enemies. The only way to find out the truth\nabout her was to ask, so, adopting my style to her own, I began without\nloss of time.\n\n\"'My sister very good;--kind to poor white broder. Where my sister come\nfrom? How she happen to be in woods? Is she far from her home? And what\nmy sister's name?'\n\n\"The girl laughed, and looked down upon the ground as she replied at\nonce:\n\n\"'White broder ask many questions. Pale-face always much talkee.\nMoon-eye not tell eberything. No good too much talkee.'\n\n\"I doubted what to say next. I had gained one piece of information\ncertainly, since the damsel evidently referred to herself as 'Moon-eye,'\nwhich was undoubtedly an appropriate name for her, and had been given\nby someone who was no bad judge of eyes in general, and hers in\nparticular. But I wanted to know a great deal more, whilst at the same\ntime I was anxious not to appear rude or inquisitive. So I remained\nsilent for a little while, when presently she rose to her feet and\naddressed me in the following words:\n\n\"'Pale-face broder come now. \"Moon-eye\" show way.'\n\n\"I obeyed without hesitation, and prepared to go wherever she led, for\nin fact I had no alternative. It was very unlikely that the girl was\nalone in the forest, and if not, the eyes and ears of her friends might\neven at this moment be within sight and hearing, in which case my\npolicy, as well as my inclination, would be to appear to be upon the\nbest possible terms with her, and to approach them in her company and\nunder her guidance. I felt somewhat weak when I attempted to walk, but\nas it was only weakness, I knew it would soon pass away, and so said\nnothing, but quietly followed my guide. She walked down to the little\nstream before mentioned, then turned along its bank and proceeded for\nseveral hundred yards until she came to a place where the water was so\nshallow as to enable us easily to wade over, which we did, and plunged\ninto the woods on the other side. By this time, I thought I might as\nwell try to get a little more conversation out of my friend, and\ntherefore accosted her with some ordinary question, but she immediately\nturned round and, placing her finger on her lips, said, in a voice so\nlow as to be little more than a whisper:\n\n\"'No talkee--enemy in woods. Moon-eye prisoner once. No want catchee\nagain.'\n\n\"For the first time the truth now dawned upon me, and I understood the\nreason of the exceeding kindness bestowed upon me by the Indian damsel,\nwhich I had previously attributed either to her own natural humanity,\nor to admiration for my noble and prepossessing appearance. But, as I\nafterwards discovered,'Moon-eye' had been carried off from her tribe by\na party of thieving Indians, who, in order to elude pursuit, had\ndivided in their journey, ten of them being entrusted with the captive\nmaiden. While passing through this part of the woods, they had struck\nmy trail, and, seeing it to be recent, had left the prisoner bound, and\nhastily followed, intending to finish me off before they continued\ntheir journey. Fortunately for me it had turned out otherwise, but it\nmight not have been fortunate for 'Moon-eye' had she not succeeded in\nfreeing herself from the bonds in which she had been left. They must\nhave been less carefully tied than most Indian fastenings that I have\nseen; but I fancy the girl had rather deceived her captors by\npretending to go with them more willingly than was really the case, and\nperchance a desire to avoid injuring her in any way had induced the\nIndians to fasten her less tightly and securely than they might\notherwise have done. Anyhow, she contrived to get loose, and also to\nfind her way to the spot where I lay senseless, and where, as we have\nseen, she treated me with a care and tenderness which I little expected\nto encounter in the depth of the forest.\n\n\"Being admonished to silence I said no more, and we tramped on in\nsilence, followed by the brave Jumbo. We had gone thus above a mile,\nwhen we heard a yell which proceeded from the direction of the place we\nhad quitted. My companion stopped short, and turning to me, said, in a\nlow voice:\n\n\"'More bad Indian. Him hear shot. Him come back and find him broder\nshot. Him follow soon now. If catchee Moon-eye and pale-face broder,\nhim killee for sartain.'\n\n\"This being very much my own opinion, I asked the girl how far off her\nfriends were, and as she now saw that something more than mere\ncuriosity dictated the question, she replied at once:\n\n\"'Two--tree--twenty mile. Bad Indian catchee before get to camp.'\n\n\"On further inquiry I found that she thought there must have been full\nfifty of the robbers who had attacked the camp of her people when most\nof the warriors were absent--that they had captured several other\nprisoners besides herself--that they had divided into three parties,\ndoubtless for the sake of greater safety in their flight, and that one\nof these parties had sundry horses laden with plunder, whilst the other\nparty had the remaining captives. In all probability the shots fired\nduring my combat with the ten Indians, who had been in charge of her,\nhad been heard by one or both of these parties, and the cries we now\nheard proceeded from them. They would certainly follow upon our trail,\nand our chances of escape depended as much upon the numbers of our\npursuers as upon any skill or strength of ours. For if thirty or forty\nwarriors were behind us, not only would resistance be vain, but we\nshould probably be surrounded before we had travelled far, whereas if\nonly a few of the savages had returned, and made the discovery of the\ndeath of their friends, there was greater hope that we might elude\nthem. Our only chance was to push on, and, having more than a mile\nstart, we must make the best of it. Accordingly,'Moon-eye' advanced\nrapidly and cautiously, and I followed her, through the forest, and we\nmust have gone quite another mile before we exchanged a word. By this\ntime we had arrived at a sort of hill, upon which the trees grew less\nthickly than at other parts of the forest. At the foot of this hill the\nground broke away to the right, the trees became still more scanty, and\na wide chasm yawned at the distance of some twenty yards from where we\nstood, the descent into which was down a precipice many feet in height,\nwhilst on the other side of the chasm the forest rose again, and grew\non in unbroken continuity. To the left the trees were somewhat thicker,\nand some forty or fifty yards before us, as we bore to that side in\nascending the hill, we perceived a building of some sort, towards which\nmy companion directed her way. Making me a sign to remain where I was\nfor a moment, she crept forward to reconnoitre, and presently\nreturning, motioned me to follow her, whilst she made her way directly\nto the right, in the direction of the precipice, to the very edge of\nwhich she advanced. Thence we looked down into a frightful abyss, down\nwhich, if one had tumbled, one would have had no chance of escape. Bits\nof jagged rock projected here and there; vegetation seemed suspended\nfor some distance down, and then the eye rested upon thick and tangled\nbushes jutting out from the sides of the rock, and completely\nconcealing the bottom of the chasm, if, indeed, it had any bottom at\nall, for it might be endless as far as one could see from the top.\nLeaning carefully forward, my companion tore a branch or two from the\nbushes growing near the edge of the precipice, and gave the place the\nappearance of having been disturbed by the passage of some heavy body.\nShe then took from my neck a handkerchief, which I had on by way of a\nneck-cloth, and which I did not in the least want to part with, but, of\ncourse, gave it up readily at her request; then she calmly dropped it\nover the side of the precipice, so that it hung upon one of the few\nbushes which grew a little way down the chasm. She then turned to me\nand said, in a low voice:\n\n\"'Bad Indian tink him fall down cliff--no follow any more;' and with\nthese words noiselessly retraced her way, treading so carefully in her\nformer footsteps as to make it appear as if there was only one trail,\nand that pointing _towards_ the precipice.\n\n\"When we had arrived at the spot from which she had previously gone to\nreconnoitre, we slowly ascended by the same way she had travelled\nbefore, carefully covering up and hiding all trace of our footsteps\nuntil we had reached the building to which I have already alluded.\n\n\"It was apparently composed entirely of logs, and seemed as if it had\nbeen built for the lodge, or more likely a place of refuge, for some\nhunting party. The logs were roughly hewn, but skilfully laid together,\nforming a strong building, with only one entrance, and that by means of\na door which had long since been broken down and destroyed. There were,\nhowever, two stories to the building, and as soon as we had entered the\ndoorway, we found ourselves in a large room, some ten feet high at\nleast, with a strong flooring of logs overhead. 'Moon-eye' rapidly made\nher way to one corner of this place, where stood some rude wooden\nsteps, above which was an opening in the flooring above. These she\nascended, motioning me to follow, and we presently crept through the\nopening into the upper room. This was lighted by two windows, one at\neach side, and had a stout roof overhead. There was no furniture\nwhatever in it, but only a number of dried leaves, which seemed to have\nblown in at the windows from time to time, since the place had been\ndeserted. 'Moon-eye' trod gently across the floor towards one of those\nwindows, and on following her I found that it commanded a view in the\ndirection from which we had come, but a view limited of course by the\ntrees which grew within a short distance of the building. Turning to\nme, the girl now whispered in her own guttural accents:\n\n\"'Bad Indian no come here, 'fraid of wicked spirit--kill much hunter\nhere one day--times ago.'\n\n\"I gathered from this remark that the place in which we were, had been\nthe scene of some cruel massacre by the Indians in days past, and that\nthe savages probably avoided it from superstitious fear. This gave me a\ndouble pleasure, for whilst it increased my hopes of safety for the\nmaiden as well as for myself, it showed me, that she was one of those\nIndians whom superior intelligence, and perhaps a better education than\nis common among the females of her race, had raised above their common\nprejudices. Her plan was easily to be perceived. Could the pursuers be\nled to believe that we had fallen down the precipice, perhaps having\nturned aside from our path with a natural desire to avoid the haunted\nbuilding, they would perhaps abandon further pursuit, and continue\ntheir journey. The place in which we now were, might have been easily\ndefended by a few men against a much larger number of enemies; and, as\nI had my rifle with me, I might have made a stand even where I was, but\nit was absolutely necessary to leave the door and the aperture into the\nupper room open, inasmuch as the sight of any defence, however slight,\nwould at once disclose our hiding-place to those who sought us. Nor,\nindeed, was there much time for consideration as to the best plan to\nadopt. In going to and returning from the edge of the precipice, and\nsubsequently in concealing our trail, we had occupied some little time;\nand scarcely had we reached the upper story, than a yell arose from the\nforest which betokened the immediate advance of the foe. There was but\na moment for reflection; through the chinks of the logs near one of the\nwindows, we could see without being seen, and here we took our station,\nwatching and waiting in breathless suspense. We had not long to wait.\nFor some little time all was silence, and the forest looked so peaceful\nand lovely, that it was difficult to believe it full of savage enemies\nthirsting for our blood.\n\n\"Meanwhile, I have forgotten to tell you of that which was at one\nmoment our great difficulty, namely, my old friend Jumbo. Invaluable as\nhe was in a fight, when the question became one of concealing a trail,\nhe was very much the reverse. His trail was easy enough to discover,\nand we were rather puzzled what to do about it. The dog, however, was\nso intelligent that I felt sure he would understand the necessity of\nour separation for a time. So when we turned from our first track in\norder to approach the building, I pointed into the woods in the\ncontrary direction, and bade him in the most impressive manner to go\nand wait for me there. The clever animal looked at me for a moment as\nif to fully take in what I had said, and then quietly turned round and\nentered the forest in obedience to my command. We were, therefore,\nunincumbered by his presence whilst we awaited the coming of our\nenemies in breathless anxiety in the upper story of the building.\n\n\"The savages were doubtless following up our trail all this time,\nsilently, slowly, but surely. The yells we had heard at first, were of\ncourse caused by their discovery of the bodies of their friends: why\nthere had been a second yell, I have never discovered to this day,\nunless it was that they had lost our trail for a moment, and that it\nhad been found again by some young warrior who had not sufficient\nexperience or self-restraint to prevent his announcing the welcome fact\nby a shout. However this may be, they yelled no more, and after we had\nwaited for some ten minutes or less, the party arrived at the spot\nwhence we had ascended the hill, that is to say, within some fifty\nyards of the place where we lay.\n\n\"As I have already said, the trees were thinner here than elsewhere,\nand we could from this cause see sufficiently well to discern objects\nmoving about at that distance.\n\n\"It was late in the afternoon now, but the light was still good, and\n'Moon-eye' looked with keen and anxious eyes through the chinks of the\nlogs in the direction of the savages. Though we could not count them,\nwe soon saw that there were certainly more than twenty of the rascals.\n\n\"The truth was, that _both_ the other two parties had heard the firing\nwhich occurred during my fight with the ten who had attacked me, but\nneither party liked to retrace their steps with their captives, and\neach had therefore again divided, and sent back a portion of their\nnumber to follow up the matter. These two divisions had met, and their\nmeeting and explanations had probably caused just that delay which had\nenabled us to take shelter in our present place of refuge.\n\n\"All was silence for a few moments longer, whilst we saw the dusky\nforms of the savages flitting, like evil spirits, through the trees at\nthe foot of the hill, and moving in the direction in which we had gone.\nThen presently came a tremendous yell of mingled surprise and\ndisappointment. They had evidently arrived at the spot where we wished\nthem to believe we had fallen over the precipice. There was no more\nsilence now, but on the contrary a Babel of tongues arose, and the\nsavages chattered one to another like a number of old women over their\nwashing-tubs, if I may make such an irreverent comparison.\n\n\"My companion turned her head to me and smiled pleasantly, whilst her\neyes laughed with joy:\n\n\"'Sioux fool,' she whispered (from which remark I first learned the\ntribe to which our foes belonged). 'Pawnee girl cheat him well. No\ncheat Pawnee warrior so!'\n\n\"I said nothing, for I did not like the silence that suddenly ensued.\nWhether some wiser chief had spoken, or what was the reason, I knew\nnot, but the clamour and confusion ceased all at once, and the Indians\nbegan to return from the edge of the precipice, and spread themselves\naround the foot of the hill as if in search of some new trail, or to\nmake sure that they had made no mistake. Still we lay quite quiet,\nconvinced that this was our best chance of safety, and hoping that the\nsuperstitious fears of the savages would keep them from entering our\nhiding-place.\n\n\"As they took no particular pains to conceal their movements, we could\nplainly hear the leaves rustle, and the dried sticks crash as they\ntramped through the surrounding woods; but for some time no one\napproached the building. Then, all of a sudden, we heard a footstep\nclose below us. How we wished that it was a couple of hours later, when\nwe might have hidden more securely in one of the dark corners of the\nroom. This, however, was impossible, and we could only lie still where\nwe were, still trusting that even if an Indian were found bold enough\nto enter the place in which we were, he would be content with\ninspecting the lower apartment. Presently the step entered the\nbuilding, stealthily as that of a wolf creeping after his prey. A\nmoment of intense anxiety followed, to be succeeded by one of as\nintense disgust. The steps creaked beneath the weight of a man, and the\nhead and shoulders of a powerful savage appeared above the opening. For\none instant he gazed round, his eyes being as yet unaccustomed to the\nimperfect light.\n\n\"Had I been alone, I should probably have closed the aforesaid eyes\nwith a bullet then and there, but my companion restrained me with a\ngesture, and in another second it was too late. The Indian naturally\nsaid 'Hugh,' in a deep guttural tone. I never knew or read of an Indian\nwho did _not_ say 'Hugh' in a similar emergency, and the next moment he\ndisappeared. Then arose a shout which summoned his comrades, and within\na couple of minutes, my companion and I were standing outside the\nunlucky building, with five-and-twenty of the most unpleasant looking\nsavages howling around us, in a manner doubtless most delightful to\nthemselves, but to us the very reverse.\n\n\"The gentleman who had discovered us was evidently the chief of the\nparty. He had got my rifle, confound him, and stood regarding us with\nsuch a complacent, self-satisfied air that I would have paid down\nhalf-a-crown cheerfully to have had one drive at his nose with my\nclenched fist. This, however, was out of the question, partly because\nit would have been a very rash and foolish proceeding under existing\ncircumstances, and partly because it would have been somewhat\ndifficult, seeing that my arms were securely fastened behind my back\nwith ropes of bark. Poor 'Moon-eye' was also bound, and did not seem\nmuch to approve of the arrangement.\n\n\"The chief now approached us, and looked me steadfastly in the face,\nwhilst I, having nothing better to do, looked back at him. Presently he\ngave a deep kind of cough or clearing of the throat, and after uttering\nthe usual 'Hugh,' remarked that he was 'Pig-face,' and a very great\nchief. To this I responded, in plain English, that I didn't think much\nof the name for beauty, but had no doubt but that he was a tremendous\n'swell' in his own country, to which remark he gravely bowed assent,\nevidently not understanding a word of it. He then came close to me,\nand, lightly touching me on the shoulder, exclaimed in a somewhat\nexcited tone, 'Pale-face tief--no good--kill Pig-face young man--carry\noff Pig-face squaw--must die.'\n\n\"Before I could by any possibility reply, 'Moon-eye' had interposed\nwith a torrent of invective of which I had scarcely supposed her\ncapable. She was terribly disgusted, I think (and no wonder at it) at\nbeing called Pig-face's squaw by that illustrious chief, and she\ncertainly told him so in pretty plain terms, if her language (which I\ndid not understand) at all corresponded to her voice and manner. This\nscene, however, could not last long. Although the Indian chief had\nkindly informed me of my doom, it was not his intention that it should\nbe immediately fulfilled. He and his party had travelled many miles\nthat day, and felt inclined for a rest before going further; added to\nwhich I imagine that they thought it would be more congenial to their\nfeelings to kill me in their own village. Accordingly, they very kindly\npostponed that operation for the present, and leading us to a spot not\nmore than half a mile distant from our late refuge, prepared to encamp\nfor the night. Each of us captives, lady as well as gentleman, was\nbound to a tree, which is by no means the easiest position in which to\npass the night, especially when vigilant eyes are upon you the whole\ntime, which was the case in this instance, as the Indians relieved each\nother every two hours, so that we were closely watched through the\nwhole night, and had no opportunity of communicating with each other.\nEarly in the morning the party again set out, and poor 'Moon-eye' and\nI, but little rested, were forced to accompany them, much against our\ninclination. I will do the savages the justice to observe that they\nloosened the girl's arms during the morning, but as they neglected to\nperform the same kindness in my case, I felt remarkably uncomfortable.\nWe journeyed along for some distance, until we came to an open grassy\nspace, upon which we halted, and our captors, producing some venison\nmeat, sat down to make a meal, unbinding my arms for a while, and\npressed both me and my companion to share their food. I had carefully\ncounted their number during our march, and found that there were\ntwenty-four men, besides the excellent chief Pig-face, so that even if\nI had been free and armed, I could neither have resisted nor escaped\nfrom so great a number. I therefore determined to forbear from any such\nattempt, which, besides being useless, might increase the severity of\nour treatment.\n\n\"As we sat, the chief again approached us and indulged in some more\nconversation. He spoke after the usual fashion of Indians, praising\nhimself and his people a good deal, abusing me and all white people\ngenerally, and assuring me that my scalp should hang at his belt before\nmany days were past. I bethought me of all the wise things which I had\nread of as having been said by 'Hawk-eye,' in Fennimore Cooper's\nimmortal books, and could have prated for half an hour about 'White\nman's gifts,' and 'Red man's gifts,' if I had been so disposed. As,\nhowever, the only 'gift' which I desired at that moment was one which\nwould have enabled me to set my companion and myself free, I did not\ncare to indulge in those sage moral reflections which always seemed to\nme as I read them singularly out of place and extremely unlikely to\nhave formed part of the conversation of a backwoodsman. I therefore\nmerely thanked the savage, and informed him at the same time that my\nscalp was exceedingly comfortable where it was, and that I had no\ndesire for its removal, a remark which he received with much composure,\nand probably imagined to be a reply entirely to the purpose. Then he\nbegan to tell my beautiful Moon-eye that she was foolish to have run\naway, that no one could withstand Pig-face, and that she should\nundoubtedly share his wigwam before long.\n\n\"The maiden heard him this time in dignified silence, and after a while\nhe left off talking, and directed his people to prepare to continue\ntheir journey.\n\n\"We walked for a considerable distance, and having re-crossed the\nstream near which my first encounter had taken place, travelled for\nseveral miles without the occurrence of any incident worthy of note\nuntil the second evening arrived. Whether the savages felt more secure\non account of being nearer their village, or from any other cause, I\ncannot say, but certain it is that they now so far relaxed their\nvigilance as to suffer my arms to be unbound for a time, and neither I\nnor Moon-eye were apparently so closely watched during the supper hour.\nStill, we knew but too well that keen eyes were upon us, and that\nflight was out of the question.\n\n\"When the Indians had finished their meal, my companion and I were both\ntied again, but not so fast as before, or at least not in so\nobjectionable a manner. We were suffered to lie down, our hands were\nfastened before us, and a rope round one ankle secured each of us to a\ntree. So darkness crept over the forest, and the savages were soon\nburied in sleep.\n\n\"Presently a low whine attracted my attention, and I perceived my\nfaithful Jumbo, who had evidently followed us all the journey, too wary\nto expose himself to view before he saw an opportunity of being of use.\nCreeping gently up to me now, the affectionate brute first licked my\nhands and face, though the latter was an attention with which I confess\nI could have dispensed. Then he began gently to gnaw the bark ropes\nwhich bound my wrists, and in a very short time succeeded in freeing my\nhands. At that instant one of the Indians started up. Jumbo slunk away\nin the shadow of the trees, whilst I kept my position, and endeavoured\nto appear as if I was fast asleep. The savage was soon satisfied, and\nlay down again, but I did not move for some minutes. Then I put out my\nhand and reached a knife which one of the party had carelessly left\nwithin my reach; with this I severed the fastening which held me to the\ntree, and crawling a few yards, performed the same office for my\ncompanion.\n\n\"Still we were not much better off, for if we ventured to fly, we were\ncertain to be speedily pursued and brought back. Therefore we looked at\neach other with a mutually disconsolate air, and hesitated what to do\nnext. At this moment the hoot of an owl broke upon our ears. The eyes\nof the Indian maiden opened to their fullest extent: her nostrils\nseemed to tremble with excitement as she listened, and her features\nworked with a convulsive movement. The cry was repeated.\n\n\"'Pawnee near--that him cry,' whispered the girl, and sat upright to\nlisten again.\n\n\"At that moment Pig-face suddenly sprang to his feet, as if he too had\nheard and recognized the sound. But before he had time to utter a word\nor cry, a furious yell broke the stillness of the night, and the\nwell-known war-cry of the Pawnees rang through the air. A band of these\nbrave people had started in pursuit of their enemies as soon as they\nhad discovered the theft of the latter, and the carrying off of\nMoon-eye, upon their return to the camp. The Sioux would probably have\ngot clear off if, in the first place, the party of ten had not been so\ndesirous of getting my scalp, and if, in the second place, their\nfriends had not thought it necessary to attempt to revenge their death.\nThe time which they had lost in following and capturing us had enabled\nthe Pawnees to overtake them, and their surprise was complete. I must\nsay for the fellows that they lost no time in flying, and that too with\namazing dexterity, for they disappeared like magic on all sides,\nPig-face included. Fortunately for them, the anxiety of the Pawnees to\nrecover the lost maiden was much in favour of their escape, for it\nappeared that the warriors had reasoned, wisely enough, that if they\nsurrounded the camp, the position of the captives might be dangerous,\nwhereas if they attacked on one side only the enemy would, in all\nprobability, be principally occupied in securing his own safety.\n\nSo, indeed, it turned out, and out of the twenty-five savages who had\ncaptured us, I believe that nearly one-half escaped unhurt. More might\nhave done so if the gallant Jumbo had not thought it necessary to take\nan active part in the combat, which he did by pursuing and pulling down\nseveral of the Sioux, who thus became easy victims to their pursuers.\n\n\"Pig-face and four of his men were taken unhurt, and when our friends\nre-assembled, and congratulations had passed between them and Moon-eye,\nthe latter, having introduced me to her tribe, told them of the fate\nwhich the Sioux chief had intended for each of us.\n\n\"The leader of the Pawnees, who rejoiced in the name of 'the\nRattle-snake,' and was painted to represent that interesting animal,\napproached the unhappy Pig-face after this, and gave him a piece of his\nmind upon the subject. I did not understand what he said, of course,\nbeing, as I told you before, somewhat ignorant of their language; but I\nknew by the manner of the two that they were going on after the usual\nIndian fashion, the one telling the other that he should soon be tied\nto the stake, and what jolly fun it would be to torture him till he\nhowled again, and the other replying that he was a great chief, that\nthe other belonged to a nation of women, and that if he tortured him as\nhe said, he would see that a chief knew how to die.\n\n\"When they had satisfied themselves with this little interchange of\ncompliments, 'the Rattle-snake' came up to me and spoke in his own\nlanguage, saying, I have no doubt, several things which I should have\nvery much liked to understand. I suppose, however, that my countenance\nshowed him that he might as well have been talking to one of the trees,\nfor he presently turned to Moon-eye and beckoned her to approach, which\nshe accordingly did. Then he spoke to her in the same tongue, and she\ninterpreted what he said to me in her pretty broken English.\n\n\"'Chief say he tank pale-face broder for kill bad Indian. Pawnee him\nfriend,--white skin, Pawnee heart.'\n\n\"When I understood what the girl said, I replied at once that I was\nvery much obliged for his good opinion, but that as a matter of fact my\nkilling the bad Indians was not on account of any particular friendship\nfor his tribe, but because if I had not done so, the beggars would\ncertainly have killed _me_. 'The Rattle-snake' listened to this\nexplanation with great attention, and answered through the interpreter\nthat this was doubtless very true, inasmuch as these thieving Indians\nwould kill any fellow they found in the woods if it suited their\npurpose; but that, nevertheless, a warrior who had assisted in\ndisposing of so many Sioux _must_ be a friend to the Pawnees, even if\nhe had never heard of them before.\n\n\"There was no arguing against such a reason as this, and I therefore at\nonce professed myself as a decided friend to the Pawnees, then and for\never. To tell the truth, I was not disinclined to become so, since\nMoon-eye had made such a deep impression upon me, that I felt a natural\nliking towards her people. The thought had several times crossed my\nmind during the last few days, whether I should not be much happier if\nI gave up the roving life which I had followed so long, and settled\ndown comfortably in some quiet nook of the world, exchanging continual\nrestlessness for domestic tranquillity. Coupled with this thought came\nanother, namely, that I had become so unused to the polished manners of\ncivilized people, that an Indian home and an Indian bride might\npossibly bring me more happiness than a return to my native land. So I\nresolved to accept the offer of the Pawnees to return with them to\ntheir own village, and bethought me at the same time that if I could\nbut win the heart of the lovely Moon-eye, I might settle down among her\npeople and become a regular Pawnee.\n\n\"Perhaps, my dear children, this might have been the case, and your\ndear uncle might now have been walking about with his head shaved for\nthe most part, with an eagle's feather behind his ear, moccasins on his\nfeet, and in every respect a perfect Indian. One little circumstance\nalone prevented me, and this was the painful fact that Moon-eye herself\ntook a different view of the case. I soon discovered that her young\naffections had long been fixed upon a young chief of her tribe, who\nenjoyed the appellation of 'the Rising Sun,' and as he seemed to return\nthe young lady's feelings, I thought I should only get into hot water\nif I acted upon my first idea. So I forthwith made up my mind that it\nwould be a shocking thing for a white man of my education and position\nto marry an ignorant Indian girl, and that it was evidently my duty to\nthink no more of it.\n\n\"I went to the Pawnee's village with them and stayed for a few weeks\nvery happily. You will perhaps be glad to hear that Pig-face and his\nyoung men were not tortured after all. They were exchanged for\nprisoners whom the Sioux had taken in their last raid, and I never\nheard any more about them. Moon-eye was very gracious to me whilst I\nwas with her people, but it annoyed me to see that fellow 'Rising Sun'\nalways following her about, and I therefore shortened my stay.\n\n\"Jumbo and I took our departure early one morning, and were accompanied\nby a number of the tribe for some distance on our way. We had many more\ncurious adventures together in the woods, my trusty companion and I,\nand very lucky we were to have come so well out of them all. But on\nlooking back to my forest and wilderness life, I never remember to have\nhad a more stirring adventure than that of which I have just told you.\nIt sometimes comes back to me now, as I lie awake at nights: I fancy I\nsee those ten vagabonds tramping after me through the woods,--then\ncomes the horrid scene with the snake--the battle--the slaughter--the\nwaking--the flight with Moon-eye--the capture--the rescue,--all comes\nflitting like a vision before my eyes, and I drop to sleep at last,\nwondering how I have been preserved through so much trouble and so many\ndangers, and thinking how lucky it is for you young ones to have a\nrespectable old uncle with so many experiences to relate, and such\ninteresting and curious tales with which to instruct and amuse your\nyoung minds.\"\n\n\n\n\nZAC'S BRIDE.\n\n\nKing Fridolin sat gloomily in the ancient halls of his race. A mighty\nrace, forsooth, had they been for many a long year, and a mighty king\nwas Fridolin. I shall not tell you the precise situation of his\nkingdom, for it is only by avoiding particular descriptions that we\nhistorians escape a variety of impertinent and troublesome questions.\nSuffice it to say that the monarch ruled over a territory of goodly\nsize, containing mountains, forests, houses, vineyards, cornfields, and\neverything else which the neighbourhood of a mighty river could supply.\nFor a river, mighty, indeed, in size and reputation, flowed through his\nkingdom, and was the principal glory of his land. The monarch had\nsucceeded to the throne at an early age, and had reigned for long years\nover his people. They, poor creatures, had apparently only been created\nin order to minister to his comfort. Ground down by oppressive\ntaxation, their spirits broken, their bodies subject to the will of\ntheir despotic master, their homes held only at his pleasure, and\nscarcely daring to call their very thoughts their own, they dragged on\nsuch a miserable existence as was permitted to them, without a hope or\nan idea that their condition could ever be improved by any effort of\ntheir own. But with him, their imperious lord, the case was surely\ndifferent. He, one would have imagined, had everything to make him\nhappy. Lands, vassals, money--what would he more? And yet King Fridolin\nsat gloomily in his ancient halls. His crown was upon his\nhead--surmounted by his favourite crest, representing the figure of an\neagle clapping its wings; his left hand rested upon the hilt of the\nmighty sword which he and his fathers before him had so often wielded\nin battle, whilst in his right hand he held a watering-pot, by means of\nwhich he tormented his Lord Chamberlain, who, having offended him, and\nbeing troubled with a bad cold, had been ordered to stand below the\nbalcony upon which his majesty sat, whilst the royal hand let iced\nwater fall upon his bald head. But even as he watered, King Fridolin\npondered, and melancholy were his thoughts the while. Broad, indeed,\nwere his lands, full were his coffers, obedient his vassals, but he\nlacked that sunshine of the heart, without which life is dull and heavy\nat the best. Moreover, he had no one who dared to contradict him, no\none who ventured to suggest to him any alteration in his way of living,\nno new occupation which could relieve him from the oppressive dulness\nunder which he suffered. So there he sat, watering and thinking and\nwishing for he knew not what--_anything_ to relieve the dreary monotony\nof his existence. Suddenly he started up.\n\n\"I've hit it!\" he cried--which, if he referred to the Lord\nChamberlain's head, he certainly had, for, as he spoke, the\nwatering-pot fell directly upon the bald pate of that unlucky\nfunctionary.\n\n\"I've hit it!\" again cried the king--and the Chamberlain was not\nprepared to dispute the statement. In fact, the king gave him no time\nto do so, for the next moment, apparently forgetting his cause of\ndispleasure against the high official in question, he eagerly called\nhim up to the balcony, and bade him listen to the development of a new\nidea which had suddenly entered his royal brain.\n\n\"Pompous,\" he cried (for such was the name of the Lord Chamberlain),\n\"Pompous, I've thought of something!\"\n\n\"Happy the thing which has had the honour of occupying your majesty's\nmind,\" returned the ancient courtier, deeming it right to preserve\nhoney upon his tongue, although bitter gall was in his heart, in\nconsequence of the treatment to which he had just been exposed.\n\n\"Don't be an ass, Pompous!\" replied the king hastily. \"I tell you I've\nthought of something. Guess what it is.\"\n\nThe Lord Chamberlain drew himself up to his full height, bowed low,\ncoughed, hemmed, and, after repeating this process several times,\nmeekly answered that he could not tell what his gracious majesty might\nhave been pleased to think of.\n\n\"Tell? Why, of course not, you old noodle,\" said the King, whose manner\nof addressing his attendants was occasionally barely polite. \"Who\nexpected you to tell? I told you to _guess_, but since you are too\nstupid to do so, I may as well tell you what it is. We'll have a\npig-race!\"\n\n\"A _what_, your majesty?\" faltered out the Lord Chamberlain.\n\n\"A pig-race, you old idiot!\" roared the king into his ear. \"P I G, pig,\nR A C E, race--_pig-race_. Do you hear now?\"\n\nAnd the old man was obliged to own that he did; but although he heard,\nhe hardly understood what the king could really mean. Old Pompous,\nhowever, was a thorough courtier, and having had the misfortune to\noffend his royal master _once_ that morning, was far too good a\njudge to do so again, if he could by any possibility avoid it. He\ntherefore put on a smiling face, declared that the idea was excellent,\nand pretended to enjoy it vastly, all the time wondering what could\nhave caused the king to think of such a ridiculous project, and by what\nmeans it could ever be carried out. Whether any difficulty had\nsuggested itself to the mind of the king, or what had put the project\ninto his head at all, are questions which it is both useless and\nunnecessary to ask. It is sufficient to know that there it was, and\nwhen the despotic king of a country has a practical idea, something\ngenerally happens in consequence, and it is a fortunate thing for his\npeople if it is nothing worse than a pig-race. Now it happened that the\nkingdom of Fridolin was famous for its breed of pigs. They grew to a\nvery large size, and were much thought of by the people of that and\nneighbouring countries, who bred, bought, sold, and ate them to a great\nextent. A pig-race, however, was not a common event, nor, indeed, had\none ever been heard of in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. A pig\nhad certainly been more than once turned out, on festive occasions,\nwith his tail soaped, and a prize given to the rustic who should\nsucceed in securing the animal by holding on to that appendage; but\nthis was not what the king meant. He announced his intention of giving\na prize, to be run for by pigs, each pig to be ridden by a boy under\nfourteen years of age, and fixed that day month for the event. Pompous\nreceived the order with obsequious readiness, and was too wise to raise\nany objection to the project, or express any doubt as to the\npossibility of carrying it out. Next morning, accordingly, it was made\nknown to the world, and the whole kingdom was agitated from one end to\nthe other. It was not a great racing country; but, if it had been, a\nrace between pigs, and pigs, too, ridden by boys, would have been a\nnovelty, and the publication of the king's intentions caused a great\ndeal of surprise and excitement. The race was to take place upon a\ncommon in the immediate neighbourhood of the capital city of the\nkingdom, and the course, which was to be half a mile long, was settled\nand marked out long before the day arrived on which the event was to\ncome off. A great number of competitors had entered for the race, and\nit was calculated that at least twenty would start. Some complaints\nthere had been of the shortness of time allowed for training either\nboys or pigs; but that was not a country in which many complaints were\nmade against anything the king did, as those who made them generally\nhad their heads cut off with a promptitude which had a signal effect in\npreventing others from following their example. So there was very\nlittle said against the arrangements which had been made, and people\nonly talked of the curious scene they expected to witness, and\nspeculated upon the chance of success possessed by the pigs which came\nfrom their several neighbourhoods. As the day approached, the\nexcitement increased, and every available lodging was occupied in\nanticipation of the great event. It is right to state, perhaps, that\nthe intensity of the interest caused by the coming race, was not only\ndue to the love of sport which existed in that country. King Fridolin\nhad perhaps no other intention than that of providing amusement for\nhimself, when he first set on foot the race which now attracted so much\nof public attention, although he had, as a truly gracious monarch, no\nobjection to his subjects sharing that amusement, so long as his own\nwould not be lessened thereby. But when he came to consider the nature\nof the prize which he should offer, another thought struck him, upon\nwhich he had immediately acted.\n\nHe had read and heard of many kings who, upon suitable occasions, when\nthey wanted their country to be delivered from some misfortune, or if\nthey desired to obtain the performance of some mighty deed of valour,\nor some great feat of agility, had endeavoured to get what they wanted\nby offering the hand of their daughter as the prize for which all\nefforts should be made.\n\nThis kind of proceeding had, of course, its disadvantages, as, in a\ncountry where only one wife was permitted, the prize would be one which\nshut out at once from competition all married men, and thus greatly\nlimited the possible number of competitors. But Fridolin was in a\npeculiar position in this respect.\n\nIn the first place, as only boys of tender age were to ride, there was\nvery little probability that any of them would be married, and, in the\nnext place, he had a daughter whom he thought very unlikely to be\nmarried, unless by some clever contrivance such as that which he had\nnow planned. Belinda was the youngest of three princesses who owned\nFridolin for their father, and she was at this time just ten years of\nage. But, unhappily, whilst her two sisters, the Princesses Amabilia\nand Concaterina were lovely and well shaped, Belinda had no such\nrecommendations. Her mother, having had the misfortune to offend a\npowerful and wicked witch, had expired, through her machinations,\nshortly after the birth of her third daughter. One would have supposed\nthat the vengeance of a witch would have been satisfied by the death of\nits object; but the witch Nuisancenika was not so easily appeased. She\nvisited the dying queen, made use of language which, always\nobjectionable in itself, was doubly improper, when used at such a\nmoment, and solemnly doomed the baby child to ugliness and deformity.\nThis pretty well finished the poor mother of itself, and she actually\ndied outright, when, within ten minutes of the cruel doom having been\npronounced, a palpable hump appeared upon the infant's back, and her\nfeatures assumed an expression of ugliness seldom seen in the females\nof that country. So the child had grown up, deformed and ugly, though\nwith a sweetness of disposition which atoned for both defects in the\neyes of those who knew her well. This scarcely applied to Fridolin, who\ncared little for his children, although he occasionally had the pretty\nones down to dessert to show off to his friends, whilst poor Belinda\nwas left alone and neglected in the nursery.\n\nUnder these painful circumstances it was singular that Belinda should\nnot have grown up as deformed in mind as body, and this might very\npossibly have been the case but for the unwearied love and devotion of\nher foster-mother. This estimable person was the wife of one of the\nking's shepherds, and no mother could have watched over her own child\nmore constantly or more tenderly than she tended Belinda. Being\nmoreover of a remarkably even temper, and blessed with a kindly\ndisposition withal, the good woman doubtless did much towards the\ndevelopment of that remarkable sweetness of character, which the\nprincess had inherited from her mother. Be this how it may, she\ncertainly grew up in such a manner as to cause the remark to be\nfrequently made that her mind evinced a marked and singular contrast to\nher body, and she was generally beloved in the royal household. This,\nthen, was the daughter whose destiny King Fridolin had resolved to\ndetermine by the chances of a pig-race, and the fact was duly notified\nto those concerned, and advertised in the newspapers throughout the\nwhole length and breadth of the country.\n\nAlthough, as I have said, the circumstances of that country prevented\npeople from commenting too freely upon any proceeding of the king's,\nyet nothing could prevent this matter being talked about in private\ncircles, and wherever the conversation could be safely carried on great\nsurprise was expressed at the course which Fridolin had thought fit to\ntake. It was argued with some reason that the king, had he so chosen,\nmight have ordered any of his subjects to marry Belinda, should no\nsuitable admirer have appeared from among any of the neighbouring\nprinces, and that, if he deemed it necessary that the princess should\nbe married at all, he might in this manner have at least secured for\nher a husband more eligible than might now fall to her lot. Besides,\nthe class of people who would be likely to contend for the prize in a\npig-race would be of a varied character. It was undoubtedly true that\nmany of the highest nobility of the land were breeders of pigs, but it\nwas equally certain that there were a far greater number of small\nfarmers and even labourers who could also claim to be included in the\nsame category.\n\nMoreover, it was more than probable that the more aristocratic and\nrefined was a pig-breeder, the less likely would it be that one of his\nown sons would ride in the race, and it was to the rider and not to the\nowner of the animal that the prize was to be given. So far, indeed, the\nking seemed to have been kind and considerate, for this plan would\nsecure to his little daughter a husband better suited to her tender age\nthan if she had been bestowed upon some pig-owner of advanced years, to\nwhom she would have made a most unsuitable wife. But the king's\nintention was plainly declared; whoever won the pig-race would win\nBelinda too, and although a few years might be permitted to pass, so\nthat her education might be completed and the age of the bridegroom be\nallowed to ripen, yet at the end of that time, which the king would fix\naccording to circumstances, the nuptials would certainly be celebrated.\n\nAs I have already said, everyone in the kingdom knew the conditions\nbefore the day arrived, and many and various were the speculations as\nto the result.\n\nAt last the sun shone upon the eventful morning of the day which was to\ndecide the issue of the race and the fate of Belinda. From every\nquarter people came hurrying into the town; carts, carriages and\nvehicles of every description and size thronged the roads, which were\nalso crowded with foot-passengers, all dressed in holiday garments, and\npushing forward in one direction, namely, to the race-course. There the\ncrowd was enormous, and the grand-stand was filled with a distinguished\ncompany, as well as by many of those individuals who are only\ndistinguished by their extraordinary capacity for getting money out of\nother people's pockets.\n\nIn a private stand which was appropriated to royalty, sat Fridolin and\nhis daughters, surrounded by the nobles of the court. The king was in\nthe highest spirits, chaffing old Pompous, flirting with the maids of\nhonour, and teasing his two eldest daughters by telling them that if\nthe affair went off to his satisfaction, he should probably have\nanother on _their_ account before long. The two princesses tossed\ntheir heads haughtily at this, although they stood too much in awe of\ntheir royal parent to make any open protest. They were both dressed in\nthe extreme of the fashion, and displayed in their features the beauty\nfor which their race had always been celebrated. At a little distance\nsat poor Belinda, who had been ordered by her father to be present, but\nwho did not seem much to enjoy it, although she endeavoured to preserve\na cheerful demeanour. The child was simply dressed in white muslin,\nand her dress was in no way calculated to remove the disagreeable\nimpression produced by her ugliness and bodily defect. As her sisters\nwere known to be the king's favourites, it was naturally around them\nthat the courtiers clustered, and Belinda sat neglected, and almost\nalone, though some of the more kindly disposed and tender-hearted of\nthe court ladies paid her a little attention.\n\nThere was the usual shouting and betting, card-playing and band-playing,\npick-pocketing and cheating, wrangling and chaffing, which accompany a\nrace-course, I am told, even down to the present day; and there was a\ndog, which issued no one knew where from, and ran down the very centre\nof the course, howled at by the crowd and vainly chased by the\npolicemen, just before the race began. Carriages of all sorts were\ndrawn up by the side of the course, several rows deep, and the\noccupants of many of them appeared to have come there principally for\nthe purpose of eating and drinking, for there was a vast and continuous\npopping of corks, carving of chickens and mixing of salads, apparently\nmuch enjoyed by those who were no more immediately concerned in the\nconsumption of the same, and as greatly envied by many hungry\nlookers-on, who passed and repassed the carriages with eager and\nlonging eyes.\n\nAt last the bell for saddling rung, and after a while the course was\ncleared, and the animals which had been entered for the race came out\nof the adjoining paddock for their preliminary gallop. There were\neighteen who actually started, of whom nine were black pigs and nine\nsandy coloured. The symmetry of their forms was generally admired, and\nas they cocked their little ears, twitched their tails, and grunted\nloudly in anticipation of the struggle, great was the interest and\nintense the excitement of the spectators. The little jockeys, clad in\ntheir jackets of different colours, sat gallantly on their steeds, and\nalthough the galloping was of a somewhat curious and uncertain\ncharacter, no accident occurred, and the eighteen competitors were duly\nmarshalled at the starting post. Then began the difficulty. It seemed\nas if no power on earth could induce the animals to range themselves as\nrequired or to keep any order at all. They grunted, squealed, turned\nround the wrong way, and exhibited altogether such restlessness and\nqueer temper, that a fair start really seemed to be an impossibility.\nThis went on for nearly half-an-hour, when suddenly the starter\neffected his purpose--the flag fell--and a hushed whisper of \"They're\noff!\" ran through the crowd from one end to another. The excitement was\ntremendous. Luncheons were abandoned--champagne glasses put down when\nin the very act of being lifted to thirsty lips--opera-glasses and\ntelescopes were everywhere in requisition, and no one in all that vast\nassembly had for the moment eyes or ears for anything but the pig-race.\nThose who were in the secret knew that seven of the animals which were\nrunning belonged to members of the aristocracy, whilst no less than\neleven were owned by breeders and jobbers of an inferior class. Among\nthese knowing ones there was great speculation as to the class from\nwhich the winner would come, also as to the colour, black or sandy,\nwhich would be successful. There was no limit as to the sex of the\nanimals, and the only stipulation was that each competitor should be\ntwo years old, it being considered in that country injurious to the\nconstitution of pigs that they should be allowed to run in races before\nthat age.\n\nIt would take too long to describe the dresses of all the jockeys or to\ngive the names of the animals which they respectively bestrode. If any\nof my readers desire to know more than I tell, the matter can be easily\narranged, for the daily journals of that country inserted the fullest\nparticulars, and were doubtless filed by many racing-men of the time,\nso that reference can be made to them by the curious inquirer. It is\nsufficient for me to chronicle the fact that cards were everywhere sold\nupon the day of the race, which contained the names, weights and\ncolours of the riders, and from these every information could be\ngleaned. The names of the favourite pigs were Lubin, Toby,\nTrough-lover, Wallower and Hogwash, and it was thought by those who\nhad, or who assumed to have, most knowledge of such matters, that none\nof the other competitors had much chance. How far the event realised\nthese expectations will be presently seen. For the first few seconds\nafter the start there was a breathless silence, whilst all eyes were\neagerly fixed upon the advancing animals. Two or three could hardly be\nsaid to have earned that epithet, for they only advanced a few yards\nbefore they stopped, set their fore feet firmly in the ground and stood\nthere squealing loudly and defying every effort of their riders to urge\nthem forward. Another presently turned sharply aside and charged into\nthe crowd of bystanders, grunting fiercely, and as he was a large hog\nof savage aspect and mighty bristles, the people scattered right and\nleft and he disappeared from the course. But the other pigs pushed on\nfor a while, until some six or seven appeared to have decidedly\noutstripped the others and to be those from whom the winner would\nundoubtedly be taken. The \"knowing ones\" seemed to be pretty right, for\nall the five animals whose names I have given were among those who led.\n\nTrough-lover, a rough built, sandy-coloured pig, with a rider in a\nviolet jacket with white sleeves, came on with a long steady gallop\nwhich augured well for his chance; the scarlet jacket of the boy who\nrode Toby, also a sandy pig, showed well to the front, and Wallower's\ndark and bony frame, bestridden by a jockey in pink and white was also\nwell up. But the principal interest of the race was concentrated upon\nHogwash and Lubin, who were running neck and neck together in the\nforemost place, whilst the three already named, with a couple of\n\"outsiders\" were several yards behind. The two favourites were both\nblack pigs; Lubin, a remarkably well-shaped animal, whose jockey showed\ndark blue colours, whilst Hogwash was a beast of huge dimensions,\nridden by a boy of complexion almost as dark as his own, whose jacket\nof lilac had been conspicuous in the front rank from the first moment\nof the start. They ran on in the order which I have mentioned, after\nthey had shaken off the \"ruck\" of pigs, until within about a couple of\nhundred yards from home, when Lubin gradually came back to his pigs,\nand Hogwash forged slowly but surely ahead. The shouting on all sides\nwas tremendous, and the excitement of the spectators was at its height,\nwhen at about a hundred yards from the winning post the position of the\nleading pigs appeared unaltered, save that Toby seemed to have somewhat\ngained on the others in the second rank, and Trough-lover was coming\nalong by the rails with a stealthy, steady gallop, which made the\nbackers of Hogwash tremble in their shoes. So it was until within fifty\nyards from the finish, when a totally unexpected incident suddenly\nchanged the aspect of affairs. Out from the second rank darted a pig of\na sandy colour, and with a squeal hardly to be expected from an animal\nwhich had gone nearly half a mile at best pace, shot forward from the\nothers and rapidly gained upon the leading pig. The shouts from the\ncrowd now rent the skies, and as the sandy pig closed up with Hogwash,\nthe rider of the latter was observed to be using his whip freely,\nwhilst his rival, a boy of light hair and complexion, displaying a\ncherry-coloured jacket and black cap, sat firmly but quietly in his\nsaddle, to all appearance neither using nor requiring whip or spur. At\ntwenty yards from home he collared Hogwash, at ten yards they were neck\nand neck, racing for dear life, and when, amid the most maddening scene\nof excitement the sandy-coloured pig galloped past the winning post\nnearly a length ahead, the shout that went up from the crowd was\nsomething appalling in its vehemence. There was no doubt about it.\nHogwash was beaten and so were all the favourites, and an outsider had\nwon. Who was it? The faces of the book-makers fell, and people looked\neagerly to see what number went up, for no one had an idea of what was\nthe name of the winner, except those who were sufficiently calm to\nconsult their cards, and ascertain what pig it was that the \"cherry and\nblack\" jockey had ridden. It was soon known, Number 17 had won, and\nNumber 17 was \"Sandy Sue,\" the property of Giles Dickson, a small\nfarmer very little known among the great pig-breeders of the kingdom.\n\nBefore I go further, I may as well explain the clever manner in which\nthis great race was actually won, which was thought to reflect\nconsiderable credit upon those who had contrived it. Farmer Dickson,\nthough not in a large way of business, had plenty of brains, and it has\nbeen remarked by men of undoubted sagacity that there are two classes\nof men into which the world may be divided, namely those who have\nbrains and no money, and those who have money and no brains, the latter\nbeing created principally for the benefit of the former. Now Farmer\nDickson belonged emphatically to the former class, and as soon as ever\nthe race was announced and the course fixed, he conceived a project\nwhich he immediately carried into execution.\n\nAt the end of the course, and not above a hundred yards or so\ntherefrom, was a fence, beyond which was situated a small farm, the\nhomestead of which was thus very near the winning post, or at least not\nabove three or four hundred yards distant. Being well acquainted with\nthe tenant of this farm, the sagacious farmer made known his plan to\nhim and they agreed to carry it out together. \"Sandy Sue,\" as the large\nsow was called upon whom Farmer Dickson had resolved to set his hopes\nand stake his money, had not long since presented her owner with a fine\nlitter of pigs. These were all removed forthwith to the farm near the\nracecourse, and their mother was also comfortably housed in the\nfarmyard. Day by day she took her gentle exercise, and day by day was\nshe well fed at a spot as near to the racecourse as could be managed.\nMore than this, her favourite food was always given to her about the\ntime at which the race had been fixed to come off, and to this\nprecaution the strictest attention was given. The consequence was\nexactly that which the confederates had expected.\n\nAlthough her condition was probably not quite so good as that of some\nof the pigs with whom she had to contend, it was sufficiently so to\nenable her to run her best for a course so short as half a mile. Then,\nwhen she came near to the finish, recollections of feeding time not\nonly crowded upon her, but she had directly before her the very spot\nwhere her daily food was served out to her, and where she was\naccustomed to receive the visits of her beloved children. Stimulated to\nrenewed exertions by these facts, she did exactly that which was\nexpected from her, and forgetting every other consideration, made such\na splendid \"spirt\" as to carry her triumphantly to the victory in the\nmanner which I have described. These things all came out afterwards,\nbut they did not affect the decision of those who had to judge upon the\nrace, and \"Sandy Sue\" was without objection or protest hailed as the\nwinner.\n\nAs soon as her jockey had dismounted and been duly weighed, he was\nsummoned to the presence of the king, who was not unnaturally desirous\nto behold his future son-in-law. The boy accordingly mounted the stairs\nwhich led to the royal stand, and was forthwith ushered into the\npresence of his sovereign. As soon as he appeared, Fridolin advanced a\nfew steps to meet him, and then stood still and regarded him with a\ncurious eye.\n\nHe was, as I have said, a boy of light complexion, with light brown\nhair and light blue eyes, and by no means of an unprepossessing\nappearance, especially in his jockey dress. He stood bashfully before\nthe king, with blushing cheeks and eyes cast down, until, after a few\nmoments of silence, Fridolin addressed him.\n\n\"Well, boy,\" he said, \"thou hast won the race and hast gained the\nprize. Of what house and lineage dost thou come?\"\n\n\"Please, sir, my lord, your kingship's majesty,\" said the boy in\ntrembling accents, entirely mistaking the question, \"our house bean't\nbut a small one, and as for linen, mother does the washing and I don't\nknow nothing about it.\"\n\nAt this reply the king burst into a fit of laughter, in which his\ncourtiers joined, although some of them felt a sensation of regret\nwithin their hearts when they considered the illiterate ignorance of\nthe youth to whom the Princess Belinda was to be sacrificed. This\nreflection apparently did not trouble the king greatly, for he\npresently remarked, \"the bridegroom must be introduced to his bride\nwithout delay. Come hither, boy,\" and with these words advanced towards\nthe spot where Belinda was sitting. The poor child, understanding but\ntoo well what had happened and what was about to follow, trembled with\nvisible emotion as they came near, and would gladly have made her\nescape. But Fridolin did not intend that this should be the case by any\nmeans. He called to her as she rose from her seat and bade her be ready\nto receive the winner of the race and her future husband. Meekly and\nhumbly she obeyed, taking her seat again, and fixing her eyes modestly\nupon the floor.\n\n\"There,\" cried the king as he pushed the boy forward towards the\nprincess, \"there is the youth who will one day be your husband, child.\nKiss her, boy, and make friends at once.\"\n\nA deep blush suffused the face of the shrinking Belinda, who had not as\nyet even looked upon the other's countenance, and she trembled more\nthan ever. But with a grace which no one had expected from the quarter\nfrom which it came, the boy, immediately on receiving the king's\ncommands, stepped forward towards Belinda's chair, and, kneeling on one\nknee, raised her hand gently to his lips.\n\n\"Bravo, boy!\" cried the king with another laugh. \"I vow you're half a\ncourtier already. Two or three years' training and you'll be perfect.\"\n\nHe then proceeded to inquire more particularly about the youth's age\nand condition, and found that he was called Zachariah Dickson, or\nusually \"Zac\" for shortness, that Farmer Dickson had several other sons\nand daughters, but that this boy, being just under the limit of age,\nhad been selected as the rider of \"Sandy Sue.\" He learned, moreover,\nthat the education of the Dickson family had been somewhat neglected,\nand that though Master Zac could certainly read and write, he was no\ngreat proficient at either accomplishment. Altogether it appeared that\nthe pig-race had secured for Belinda a husband so very much beneath her\nin rank, position, breeding and education that her future happiness\ncould hardly be said to be very certain.\n\nAs, however, Fridolin had made the arrangement without any reference to\nits probable effect upon his daughter's happiness, but entirely to\ngratify his own whim, he was not greatly concerned with this\nreflection. He told the youth, indeed, that he had something to learn,\nbefore he could be really fit to be a king's son-in-law, but as in that\ncountry a king's word was always sacred, and as good as his bond, he\nnever for one moment entertained the idea of trying to be off the\nbargain.\n\nNo: \"Zac\" Dickson should be Belinda's husband, come what might. \"He had\nwon her and he alone should wear her.\" So said the king again and\nagain, at the same time avowing his determination that the boy should\nbe forthwith sent at the royal expense to one of the best colleges in\nthe country, in order that he might pursue his studies, and prepare\nhimself to discharge the duties of that lofty position to which he had\nbeen called by the voice of Fate. This announcement was received with\nrespectful submission by the boy, and with unfeigned satisfaction by\nold Dickson, who, besides having won a considerable sum of money on the\nrace, now saw the prospect of having one of his boys entirely taken off\nhis hands and better educated than he could possibly have been without\nsuch aid.\n\nThe king further declared that three years should elapse before the\nwedding, but that then, when the bridegroom was seventeen and the bride\nthirteen, the marriage should certainly be celebrated, youthful\nmarriages being always the fashion in that country. After the interview\non the royal Stand, the winner of the race was allowed to return home\nfor the night, but with orders that he was to take up his abode at the\npalace upon the following day. Then the king ordered his carriages and\nthe royal party left the course. The crowd was already broken up, and\npeople were streaming in every direction over the common upon which the\nsport had taken place.\n\nThe common was ere long left desolate and alone, only tenanted by a\ngrazing donkey or two, and a few wretched human creatures who wandered\nover every spot upon which carriages had stood and luncheons had been\neaten, in the hope of finding something which they might convert into\nmoney in order to aid the necessities of their miserable lives. Soon,\ntoo, these took their departure: the crowd of people returning home\ngrew smaller and smaller, gradually the road was less and less\nthronged, the people were only seen going along it by twos and threes,\nthen at last these, too, had found their way home, silence reigned\nwhere all had so lately been talk and mirth, noise and revelry, and\nnight came down upon the earth with her sable cloak, extinguishing the\nlast flickering rays of the sun which had so gaily and brightly shone\nupon the day of the great pig-race.\n\nThe Princess Belinda woke next morning with a load upon her young\nheart, and a novel sense of responsibility which made her feel quite a\ndifferent being from the child of the day before. She was, indeed, no\nordinary child. Even in her appearance _that_ could hardly be said\nof her, poor girl! for she was not so much ordinary as decidedly ugly,\nbut the epithet was even less applicable to her intellectual powers,\nwhich were undeniably of a superior order. Having moreover been\ndebarred by her deformity from the more active pastimes of childhood,\nshe had from a very early period sought her pleasure in books, and was,\neven at the early age of ten, far better acquainted with the literature\nof the day than many young ladies of twice her age. Well informed,\nhowever, as she was, and fortified as she might be against the storms\nof the outside world, as much as the fortifications of a prudent heart\nand well-regulated temper can avail against such adversities, she\nnevertheless awoke, as I have already said, to a new feeling upon the\nmorning after the pig-race. Her childhood seemed to be over, and the\nreal cares of life to have commenced. She had no longer only her own\nlife to regard, the life of another was thenceforth inseparably bound\nup with her own. The actual marriage, indeed, was to be deferred for\nthree years, but the boy who had been presented to her as her future\nhusband was practically, for the future, a part and parcel of her life,\nand his doings must be always of great and paramount interest and\nimportance to her. To tell the truth, he had made a very favourable\nimpression upon the heart of the youthful princess.\n\nUnaccustomed to go much into that society of which her more fortunate\nsisters were at once the ornaments and the delights, Belinda was less\nstruck than might otherwise have been the case by the somewhat rough\nand countrified bearing of the boy, and indeed, as has been already\nsaid, his action in kneeling before her on his first introduction had\nbeen far from ungraceful. She had remarked with pleasure the honest\ngaze of his blue eyes, and the healthy clearness of his fair\ncomplexion, whilst no one could deny that his form was well-shaped, and\nhis figure lithe and active. Still, the age of ten is one at which it\nis somewhat early to be engaged to be married, and it is scarcely to be\nconsidered a matter of wonder that the little princess regarded her\nprospects with some apprehension.\n\nThe youthful Zac was brought to the palace next day, according to the\nking's orders, and forthwith took up his residence in the royal abode.\nIt was a curious arrangement, and one that was made the subject of much\ncomment by the court, although it was allowed on every hand that, since\nthe king had determined upon bestowing the hand of his youngest\ndaughter upon the winner of the pig-race, there was much good sense, as\nwell as kindness, in his resolution to have that winner properly\neducated. It must be owned, too, that the lad did no discredit to his\nteachers. He was diligent, attentive, and showed no small capacity for\nlearning. Whatever there had been of vulgarity in his accent rapidly\ndisappeared, uncouth and ignorant language was banished from his\nhearing, and consequently very soon from his speech, while his errors\nof grammar speedily became things of the past. In short, it was\nconfessed even by those who had at first shaken their heads with a\ngravity befitting the occasion, and had declared that the old proverb\n\"you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear\" would be verified in\nthis case, and that a person of humble birth could by no means be\nconverted into a gentleman; even these persons, I say, began to take a\ndifferent tone, to talk about another proverb, namely that \"exceptions\nprove the rule,\" and to express their feelings towards Belinda's future\nhusband in no unfavourable terms.\n\nHe made such progress in his books that his tutors were quite\nastonished, and Belinda was herself delighted. Once a week he was\nallowed to visit her for an hour, and from time to time she found a\nperceptible difference in his manners and conversation, and a decided\nimprovement in both. In this manner a whole year passed over the heads\nof the people of whom we are speaking, and during that time no event\noccurred of a character so specially interesting as to require a\nseparate allusion. People were born, married and died as usual. Whilst\nthey lived they ate, drank, and paid their taxes--three things common\nto all mankind who happen to be resident in civilized countries--and\nafter they were dead they were comfortably buried by their relations,\nwho then went home and remembered them as long as people usually do,\nand no longer. The world, in short, went steadily on, and the inmates\nof the palace did much the same as the rest of the world. Lord Pompous,\nit is true, fell occasionally into disgrace, being rather a stupid man\nand apt to offend the king when he most wanted to please him. But as he\nalways got out again very soon, this did not signify. Fridolin was\nrather fond of the old man, if the truth must be told, and though he\nenjoyed teasing him now and then, never really meant to get rid of him.\nSo they jogged on together happily enough, and nothing occurred to\nseriously disturb either of them.\n\nThe king, however, felt time hang as heavy upon his hands as is the\ncase with most people who either have nothing to do, or are too idle to\ndo what they really _have_ to do in the shape of work. He often\nlooked back to that idea of a pig-race which had afforded him such a\ngood day's amusement, and once or twice hinted to his two elder\ndaughters that it had turned out remarkably well. The princesses,\nhowever, viewed the matter in a different light, for they guessed at\nonce at their father's intentions, and had no notion of allowing them\nto come to any practical issue. It was all very well for Belinda,\nindeed: a third sister, with neither beauty nor wealth, might fairly be\ndisposed of in any way that happened to be most convenient. It was\nentirely different, however, with girls who had beauty to recommend\nthem, and no lack of admirers to tell them so. Wherefore the fair\nAmabilia and the sweet Concaterina promptly checked their father's most\ndistant allusion to the subject, and as they were the only people of\nwhom he stood at all in awe, he soon abandoned the idea, and gave up\nall thoughts of having another pig-race.\n\nAfter young Zac's first entrance into the palace, Fridolin had\nconcerned himself very little about the boy, being content, as many\npeople are, to let matters drift on as long as they gave no trouble to\nhimself. But it happened one day that he overheard some of the\ncourtiers speaking in praise of the lad, and this excited his curiosity\nto a degree sufficient to induce him to desire that Zac should be\nsummoned to his presence. This occurred about the end of the first year\nof Zac's residence in the palace, and was really the beginning to him\nof another existence. For King Fridolin was so pleased with the\nalteration in the youth, that he thought he should like to see more of\nhim. Having no son of his own, why should not the future husband of one\nof his daughters be as a son to him? Thus the result of his great idea\nmight turn out altogether fortunate, and he should have conferred a\nbenefit upon himself as well as Belinda after all. He forthwith gave\ndirections that Zac should be present on all occasions when the king\nappeared in public, or gave a reception to any of his subjects, and he\nalso desired that he should be frequently admitted to the royal\npresence upon other occasions. The boy always conducted himself so well\nthat he gradually became a great favourite with the king, and not only\nwith the king but with the other princesses.\n\nThis occurrence was the reverse of fortunate, but perhaps it was not\nunnatural. Amabilia was little more than a year older than Zac, and\nConcaterina about his age. His good looks, his pleasant manner, the\nunfailing sweetness of his temper, and the general intelligence which\nhe evinced, were all calculated to make an impression upon the tender\nhearts of the two princesses. Surrounded by flatterers and sycophants,\nthe simple character and honest bearing of the youth had the additional\ncharm of novelty, and this was increased by the natural manner in\nwhich, considering these as his future sisters, he accepted his\nposition and treated them frankly as such. Accordingly they both fell\ndeeply in love with him. It was very sad, and I am sorry to be obliged\nto tell it, but it is no use concealing the truth, and there was and is\nno mistake about the matter. The two sisters were not long in\ndiscovering each other's secret, and as soon as they had made the\nmutual discovery, a coldness sprang up between them which was most\ndistressing. I am bound to say that no thought of or for Belinda ever\ncrossed the mind of either of them. It was not that they disliked their\nyounger sister, or that they were habitually unkind to her, but they\nhad got into the way of considering her as a kind of inferior being,\nwhose thoughts, hopes, and wishes must never for a moment interfere\nwith their own, and who could on any occasion, and in any matter, be\npushed aside as best suited their convenience, so that it scarcely at\nall, if ever, occurred to either of them that it was either wrong,\ndishonourable, or unkind to rob Belinda of her promised husband, and if\nit _had_ occurred to them, I am afraid that they had both been too\nmuch accustomed to have their own way to have hesitated even under the\ninfluence of such a thought. Nurtured as they had been in their\nfather's court, surrounded by people who had taught them to believe in\nthe divine right of kings to reign over their people, and the enormous\nprivilege which it was to be of royal blood, and the incomparable\nsuperiority of beings such as they were over the common herd of\nmortals, one would have thought it probable that their pride would have\nprevented them from yielding to the soft influence of love in such a\ncase as that of the boy of humble birth with whom they had thus\naccidentally been associated. But poets and writers of olden time have\nalways told us that Love is invincible, and I can only suppose that he\nchose to give another instance of his prowess by conquering the hearts\nof the two princesses, and forcing them to bow before his resistless\nsway. At all events, to cut the matter short, they both fell in love\nwith Zac Dickson, so that his very name (though to me there seems\nnothing at all savouring of melody about it) was music to their ears,\ntheir eyes delighted to behold him, and their blushes would soon have\ntold the tale, if indeed their tender looks and affectionate manner had\nnot been such as to reveal to the youth the ill-concealed secret of\ntheir young hearts.\n\nExtraordinary though it be to relate, and difficult to believe, Zac was\nconsiderably more annoyed than pleased by the discovery. Most boys of\nfifteen would have been far from insensible to the attentions of\nbeautiful damsels even of their own rank and station, and few there are\nwho would not have been flattered--and perchance fluttered too--by the\npalpable affection entertained towards them by lovely princesses.\nNevertheless, this was not at all the case with Zac. By some curious\nfreak of Nature, he had been constituted with an acute sense and\nappreciation of the difference between right and wrong, and a steady\ndesire and determination to avoid the latter whenever he possibly\ncould. He remembered full well the manner in which he had obtained\naccess to the palace, and the terms upon which his admission had been\narranged, and the means provided for his education. Strange to say,\nmoreover, he had conceived a real regard and affection for Belinda. He\nremembered her first reception of him as her future husband; he did not\nforget the uniformly meek and modest nature which she displayed in her\nweekly interviews with him; nor was he oblivious of the kindly interest\nshe had ever taken in his mental progress and development of those\nqualities which go to make a man's life both useful and advantageous to\nhimself and others. He had perceived, too, in the youngest princess,\nthat sweetness of disposition for which she had ever been remarkable,\nand had learned gradually to understand, and, as he understood, to love\nher better.\n\nIf, at his first entrance upon the scene of our history as the winner\nof the pig-race, he had been offered the choice of any one of the three\nprincesses, it is highly probable that he would never have looked upon\nBelinda a second time. The beauty of the elder sisters was undeniably\ngreat; their manners pleasant, though occasionally haughty; and they\nwere girls who would at once have captivated the susceptible heart of\nany young man suddenly placed in Zac's position. But a year's residence\nin the palace, and that under his peculiar circumstances and\nengagements, had made all the difference. Bound in honour to Belinda,\nhe would as soon have thought of stealing the king's crown as of making\nlove to either of her sisters, nor could he believe for a long time\nthat they had any such intentions towards himself. This, however, only\nserved to make matters worse, because he took no pains to keep out of\ntheir way, and was rather glad when any opportunity for meeting either\nof them chanced to occur. Nay, when Amabilia pressed his hand tenderly,\nhe saw in it nothing more than the regard which Belinda's sister had a\nright to entertain towards him, and when Concaterina, as they were\nbending together over a photograph, put her arms softly round his neck,\nand when their faces were almost touching, pressed her lips softly upon\nhis cheek, he even then deemed it but a proof of sisterly affection,\nand at once returned the compliment, without a suspicion that anything\nmore was meant. His eyes, however, were opened at last, when the\nattentions, looks, and words of the two elder princesses became\nunmistakable, and their design of winning him from Belinda but too\napparent.\n\nThe boy was grieved beyond measure, for not only was he sharp enough to\nknow that his own position at court might be seriously imperilled by\nwhat was before him, but he also felt that, through him, Belinda\nherself might be made to suffer. Yet what was to be done? Deceit was\nrepugnant to his honest nature, and had it been otherwise, it could\nscarcely have been long maintained, since not only one, but both\nsisters were aiming at the same thing, and to deceive the two would\nhave been beyond human skill and subtlety. If he appeared to favour\neither one, the other would probably be bitterly offended; if he seemed\nto care for both, but to hesitate between the two, their mutual\njealousy would be stimulated, and, besides, if Belinda should hear of\nit, as would be but too likely, her tender heart would be filled with\nsorrow. On the other hand, if he spoke his mind out to the two\nprincesses, openly and boldly, they had only to agree together to\ndenounce him to the king, and his position would be most precarious,\nwhilst Belinda would be quite unable to assist him.\n\nThe matter caused the poor boy much anxious thought. At first, when he\nbecame quite certain that he was not mistaken, he tried, by every means\nin his power, to avoid Amabilia and Concaterina, and was never alone\nwith either of them if he could possibly help it. But very often he\ncouldn't help it, do what he would. He made his studies a constant\nexcuse for absence from luncheon, to which meal he had latterly been\ninvited, and at which the two elder princesses were always present,\nalthough Belinda had her solitary meal in the school-room.\n\nSometimes the king was there, and then Zac dared not be away, since\nFridolin liked him to be present, and sent for him if he was not. But\nhis time of trial was \"Five o'clock Tea.\"\n\nThe two sisters had a joint sitting-room, a very comfortable place,\nwith inviting arm-chairs, delightful sofas, all the new novels, and\nevery knick-knack you can imagine, arranged as only a lady's taste\n_can_ arrange things, but so managed as to make the room wonderfully\nattractive to the male who has the good fortune to be admitted to a\nsight of its treasures. Their tea was always brought in on a silver\ntray soon after five, and to this most enjoyable meal they frequently\ninvited such of the courtiers as they specially favoured. Zac had\nconstant invitations of a general character, but whenever one of the\nsisters chanced to be absent from any cause whatever, the other was\nsure to send specially to request his attendance. This was his time of\ntrial. The \"request\" of a princess in that royalty-loving country was\nequivalent to a command, and it was entirely contrary to etiquette for\nany one to refuse compliance, save on the score of ill-health, domestic\naffliction, or some other equally valid excuse. Therefore it was very\ndifficult for Zac to refuse, though he knew only too well what awaited\nhim. Amabilia or Concaterina, whichever it happened to be--no matter\nwhich--was certain to be alone, and always received him with such\noverpowering affection as quite bewildered him. His only safety lay in\nthe fact that the two girls had become so jealous of each other, that\none never left the other alone at five o'clock tea if she could\npossibly help it. Still, sometimes such an occurrence was unavoidable,\nand if Amabilia was ever kept up-stairs by a bad cold, or Concaterina\nhad been detained elsewhere by some accidental circumstance, as sure as\nfate, one of these special invitations came to Zac, and the poor boy\nhad to go and face the lovely princess as best he could.\n\nSo things went on for several months, well into the second year of the\nyouth's residence in the palace, until at last matters seemed coming to\na crisis. For the second time, Concaterina had indulged him with a\nkiss, which he could hardly with politeness refrain from returning, and\nthe lovely Amabilia actually began the same game.\n\nShe secured him for a five o'clock tea, and whilst sitting by his side\non the sofa, and talking in her usually affectionate manner, she\nsuddenly laid her fair head upon his shoulder for an instant, and the\nnext moment as suddenly raising it, exclaimed in an energetic and\nemphatic tone: \"_Dear_ Zac!\" and imprinted at the same instant a warm\nand loving kiss upon his young lips.\n\nPoor Zac was terribly perplexed, but more in thought than in action,\nfor of course he could do no less than promptly return the compliment\njust paid him by the princess. But when she took his hand in hers,\npressed it warmly, and regarded him with loving eyes, with her face\nstill closer to his than any face but Belinda's should have been, he\nfelt that this was really carrying things too far, and that he must\nsomehow or other put an end to it. How he would have done so it is\nimpossible to say, inasmuch as the princess, evidently of a different\nopinion, appeared desirous of prolonging the situation, and his\ndifficulty in preventing her from doing so would probably have been\nconsiderable.\n\nFortunately--or unfortunately, as the taste of my readers may lead them\nto determine--the door suddenly flew open, and the princess had barely\ntime to spring to the other end of the sofa when the portly figure of\nLord Pompous entered the apartment. As Lord Chamberlain, Old Pompous\nhad the general right of entry everywhere, although he rarely ventured\nto approach the sitting-room of the princesses without special\ninvitation, and probably would not have done so upon the present\noccasion had he not been sent directly by the king. I do not think that\nAmabilia ever quite forgave the old man for his unwelcome intrusion;\nbut he really was not to blame in the matter. King Fridolin had got\ninto a difficulty about some curtains which he had recently ordered for\nhis study, and which, when they came home, he fancied were of colours\nwhich did not match; those destined for one window being of a different\nhue to those which belonged to another. Having referred the matter to\nLord Pompous, that worthy ventured to be of an opinion contrary to that\nof his sovereign, and held that the curtains matched perfectly. Upon\nthis Fridolin first threw a footstool at the head of his lord\nchamberlain--on dodging which he tumbled over the waste-paper basket\ninto the coal-scuttle, and spoiled a new white waistcoat--and then\ndirected him, since he was such a blind old fool as to be unable to\ntell one colour from another, to go immediately to Amabilia's room and\nask her to come there and decide the knotty point. Accordingly, the\nsubmissive Pompous hurried off to obey the orders of the king, and\narrived at the particularly opportune or inopportune moment which I\nhave described.\n\nAs far as Zac was concerned, the intrusion appeared to him to be little\nless than providential. The princess could do nothing else than obey,\nand as it would not have been etiquette for her either to have invited\nhim to accompany her, or told him to await her return, she had no\nalternative but to dismiss him from the apartment. This she did with a\nloving look, which certainly could not be misunderstood by its object,\nand could hardly have escaped the observation of any bystander less\nblind and stupid than Lord Pompous.\n\nThe princess then sought the presence of her father, and Zac, having\ndeeply cogitated upon the whole matter, after his return to his own\nroom, made up his mind that, unless he was to run away--a proceeding\nwhich would be difficult, uncomfortable, ruinous to his future\ninterests, and very disagreeable to others beside himself--the only\nalternative he had was to open his whole heart to Belinda upon the very\nfirst opportunity.\n\nHaving quite resolved upon this he felt somewhat more happy, for that\nwhich had really troubled him most was the apprehension that the young\nprincess might discover something of the truth, and not knowing from\nhimself how matters really stood, might imbibe some false impression\nconcerning the matter, and blame him for having employed unnecessary\nand unjustifiable concealment in a business so intimately concerning\nher interests and future happiness. He had not long to wait for the\nopportunity he desired. At their very next interview he was able to\nopen his heart to Belinda upon the subject, and to tell her all the\nawkwardness of his position as regarded the king, herself, and her two\nsisters.\n\nAt first the poor child wept bitterly, and was quite unable either to\ncontrol or to conceal her feelings. She had never expected, for she had\nnever received, great kindness from her elder sisters, but she had\nthought herself quite safe from molestation with regard to her future\nhusband. Amabilia and Concaterina had so scoffed at the idea of the\npig-race when the project was first started, they had laughed so\nheartily at the ridiculous notion of the hand of a king's daughter\nbeing given as the reward of a successful jockey, and they had tossed\ntheir heads so high at the idea of a common farmer's son being received\nand accepted as the future husband of _their_ sister, that it had never\nentered the poor child's head that there was the slightest chance of\neither of them ever desiring to obtain his affection. Yet such was the\ncase. She was attacked upon the very side upon which she had felt\nherself most secure, and her surprise was only equalled by her\ndistress. One consolation, however, she certainly had, than which none\ncould well be greater. The fidelity of Zac was a comfort which was\nbeyond all price, as it was also beyond all praise. When she was fully\nassured of this--and indeed she was too young and too honest to have\never doubted it--she felt almost glad that the occasion to prove it had\narisen. In warm but simple language she expressed at once her gratitude\nand her affection for the youth, who, on his part, declared his firm\nadherence to the troth he had plighted, and in homely words vowed that\nhe would never be false to his Belinda.\n\nBut this mutual interchange of confidence and regard rendered the\npresent position of affairs by no means less dangerous and\nuncomfortable. Zac offered to go to the king if Belinda desired it, but\nto this there was a double objection. In the first place, Fridolin\nwould probably be slow to believe anything to the disadvantage of his\nfavourite daughters, and an appeal to him, certain to lead to an entire\ndenial on the part of the princesses, would not improbably recoil upon\nthe heads of both Belinda and her promised husband. Then, in the second\nplace, Zac had a strong and conscientious objection to betraying a\nlady's secret, and had only done so in the present case because Belinda\nwas his affianced wife, and he felt himself bound in honour to tell her\nhow matters stood between her sisters and himself.\n\nThey decided, therefore, that they certainly would not say anything to\nthe king upon the subject. There was no one else to whom they could\nappeal, for Amabilia and Concaterina were omnipotent in the palace, and\nit would have been hopeless to speak to old Pompous or any of the\ncourtiers. All that Belinda could think of was to tell her old\nfoster-mother, who was allowed to see her twice a month, and who was so\nutterly devoted to her, that if the worst came to the worst, and the\npoor child had to leave the palace, she knew she could find a refuge in\nthat humble cottage as long as the old woman was allowed to live there.\nSo, after much difficulty, she obtained Zac's permission to confide to\nher the whole matter, and to ask her counsel regarding it.\n\nThe youth left his betrothed with a heavy heart, but rejoiced withal at\nthe thought that, at all events, she knew the truth, and would place in\nhim the trust which he so well deserved.\n\nThe cottage of Belinda's foster-mother was not far from the palace, and\nclose to a forest of considerable size, between which and the river\nwhich flowed through the fertile plain upon one side of it, were the\nking's pastures upon which grazed his numerous flocks and herds. As has\nbeen already stated, the good old foster-mother was the wife of one of\nthe shepherds whose duty it was to tend the king's flocks. He was now\nsomewhat advanced in years, and so was his wife; but they were a hale\nand hearty couple, and still performed their duties with diligence and\nfidelity. According to her resolution, Belinda confided to her\nfoster-mother at the very next interview the whole circumstances of her\npainful position. The worthy woman was much disturbed at hearing this\nnews. No one was better informed than she was of the state of affairs\nat the palace. She knew that the word of either Amabilia or Concaterina\nwas law, whilst her nursling had no influence whatever. If, then, the\ntwo sisters could agree between themselves as to which of them should\nappropriate Zac, there seemed but small hope that Belinda would be\npermitted to retain her lover. True, he might have a word to say upon\nthe subject himself, and would possibly--nay, probably, according to\nBelinda--be firm and true, but how far that would avail against the\nwill of those with whom he would have to deal, was a very doubtful\nmatter. So when she had heard her child's story, the old woman\ncomforted and petted her at first by condoling with her on the badness\nof the prospect before her, and the impossibility of its ever being any\nbetter. Having thus made both her nursling and herself as miserable as\nshe could, and having cried together a good deal more than the urgency\nof the case required, they began to think whether anything else could\nbe done, and for some time no thought entered either head of which any\nuse could be made. This interview took place in the palace, and the\ngood old woman said that she never _could_ think in such a grand place\nas that, but that if Belinda could manage to come and see her one of\nthose days at her own cottage, they would be able to talk the matter\nover quietly together, and perhaps something might turn up. To this\nBelinda consented, and the old woman took her departure.\n\nFor the next few days things went on much the same, the two elder\nprincesses doing all in their power to attract the affection of Zac,\nand the honest lad striving to avoid them as much as he possibly could\ndo without actual incivility. One day, however, things really came to a\ncrisis. Zac had finished his work earlier than usual, and went into the\npalace garden to enjoy the fresh air. He took a book with him, and\nfinding a pleasant seat in a little summer-house, which had been built\nnear a natural waterfall which formed one of the beauties of the place,\nhe sat himself thereupon, and began to read.\n\nIt was a lovely spot, and the moment was one which occasionally comes\nto everybody in the warm summer-time, when the sound of falling water,\nthe rays of the sun just piercing through a thick leafy screen, the low\nsinging of the birds and the humming of the insects, all induce a kind\nof dreamy happiness which gradually steals over the spirit, and not\nseldom ends in the forgetfulness of sleep. So it was with Zac. He read\na page or two with avidity--for his book was interesting--then another\npage or two rather less eagerly, then more slowly and lazily still;\nthen he ceased to turn over the pages at all, and finally the book\nslipped from his hands to his knees, and from his knees to the ground,\nhis eyes closed, and he fell into a sweet, dreamless sleep.\n\nNow, as luck would have it, the lovely Concaterina had observed the\nyouth saunter into the garden, as she was watering the mignonette\nwhich grew in a box placed upon her window-sill. The opportunity for a\n_t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate_ seemed too good to be lost, and she therefore shortly\nafterwards descended in pursuit of him, having previously made sure\nthat her beloved elder sister was practising music in their joint\nsitting-room. The princess did not find the boy directly, as she\nfancied he had gone further into the shrubberies than was really the\ncase, so that by the time she came upon him in the summer-house he was\nstretched at full length upon the seat and sleeping as I have\ndescribed.\n\nShe gazed upon him for some few seconds in a transport of maidenly\naffection--so young and so handsome did he seem in her eyes, with his\nhead leaning upon one of his arms which he had carelessly thrown behind\nit as he sank to sleep. Should she awaken him? and how? She did not\ntake long to decide. In that country there was a proverbial saying--and\nI believe it is not confined to that country--that if a gentleman finds\na lady asleep he has a right to take a kiss by way of legitimate booty.\nConcaterina had no idea that such a privilege could be properly or\nfairly confined to one sex, and she therefore leaned gently over the\nslumbering Zac, and without more ado kissed him tenderly on the cheek.\n\nThe boy started from his sleep, and blushed deeply at having been thus\nawakened and saluted. He stammered forth some apologies for having been\nfound as he was, but these were soon stopped by Concaterina, who\naddressed him in the most affectionate terms, and, sitting down by his\nside, asked him whether he quite hated her.\n\nTo this the youth could make but one reply, namely, that it was not for\nhim to hate his king's daughter, and that even were she not so, she and\nher sister had been too kind to him to make it possible for him to\nentertain any such feeling towards either of them.\n\nAt the mention of her sister the fair one pouted prettily, and\ncontinued to talk to him in terms of endearment.\n\n\"Dearest Zac,\" she said, \"if you do not hate me cannot you love me a\nlittle? I am so fond of _you_--so _very_ fond.\"\n\nZac did not know how to answer.\n\n\"I _do_ love you,\" at length he said, \"as the Princess Belinda's\nsister, and therefore one who will some day be _my_ sister too!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" sighed Concaterina, \"but I want more than that, you dear boy.\nBelinda, indeed! you are much too good for _her_, poor ill-favoured,\nchild! How happy we could be together, Zac. You don't think me ugly, do\nyou?\"\n\nZac certainly did _not_, and therefore could not say so, but when the\nprincess went on in the same way, and tried to persuade him to let her\nusurp the place in his affections which belonged to Belinda, he could\nonly reply that he knew she could not _really_ mean it, and begged her\nnot to play tricks upon him in that manner.\n\n\"Ah, Zac,\" she returned, \"they are no tricks; I never before saw anyone\nwhom I could really love, and I do love you, Zac, so _very_ much!\" and\nas she spoke she passed her arm again round the perplexed boy's neck in\na loving manner.\n\nWhat step she would next have taken I am unable to say, for at that\nmoment who should enter the summer-house but the Princess Amabilia.\n\n\"Pretty conduct this, indeed!\" she cried, when she saw the position of\naffairs. \"Concaterina! I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself,\nteasing that poor boy with your affection when you know he wants none\nof it!\"\n\nThe younger sister had by this time withdrawn the offending arm and\nturned sharply upon the intruder.\n\n\"How tiresome you are, Amabilia,\" she said pettishly; \"always\ninterfering. Zac and I understand each other quite well, and don't want\nyou here at all. Do go away!\"\n\n\"Hoity-toity!\" rejoined the other. \"_I_ go away, forsooth, that would\nbe very reasonable, when we both know that dear Zac loves me fifty\ntimes better than he does you. Impudence!\"\n\nAt this Concaterina fired up.\n\n\"He does no such thing!\" she cried angrily; \"he and I are now nearly of\nan age, and if you were a real good sister you would be glad to see how\nfond he is of me, instead of trying to take him away, you spiteful\nthing.\"\n\nAmabilia replied with equal warmth, and poor Zac's position became one\nof extreme discomfort, both princesses claiming him as their own, when\nhe in reality neither belonged nor wished to belong to either.\n\nPresently, however, they brought their animated discussion to a close\nby appealing to Zac himself. Amabilia ingenuously declared that as she\nwas eldest she ought to have the first choice, and that since matters\nhad come to this pass, she would not be ashamed of telling Zac to his\nface that she loved him dearly, and was prepared to accept him for her\nhusband. To this she added that in most courts such a hint as she had\ngiven would be considered equivalent to a command, and that she was\nthankful to say and feel that, as in their case there was love on both\nsides, a command would be quite superfluous.\n\nConcaterina then put in her claim. She said that in matters of love it\nwas not a question of being eldest or youngest, the heart must follow\nits own promptings. She loved Zac--oh, so dearly! and she felt that he\nreturned her love, only diffidence forbade him to confess it. But if he\nwould be hers, she was certain her sister would soon find another mate,\nand that the king, her father, would make no objection. Thus accosted\nby two young and beautiful princesses, poor Zac would have had a most\ndifficult task to decide between them, had it not been that the path of\nduty lay straight before him, and he had all along resolved to follow\nit.\n\n\"Dear ladies!\" he said, addressing them both, and bowing respectfully\nto one and the other, \"I thought you were but playing with me, and I\nwould fain hope so still. If not--what reply can I make to you? I love\nyou both--each has been so kind to me since I first entered the palace,\nthat I should be worse than a brute if I did not love you both. But I\ncame here as the promised husband of your sister Belinda. My troth is\nplighted to her. She believes in and trusts me. How can I break my word\nand her heart? Dear princesses, you are so beautiful that you can\ncommand love whenever and wherever you wish it. It is not so with poor\nBelinda. She has but me, and I have vowed to be faithful to her!\"\n\nWhilst Zac was speaking thus, his eyes fired with animation, and his\nface beaming with excitement, the princesses thought they had never\nseen him look so handsome. But when his words showed them that their\nefforts to wean his heart from their younger sister had been\nunsuccessful, rage gradually took possession of their souls.\n\n\"You despise our love!\" they both cried out at once. \"You, a mere\npeasant boy, who was only taken into the palace out of charity, you\n_dare_ to say that you despise our beauty and ourselves, and take\nup with that little lump of deformity, Belinda! How can you be such a\nfool?\"\n\nPoor Zac protested that he was far from despising either of them, and\nadmired their beauty greatly, as indeed anyone with eyes must do. This,\nhowever, was far from satisfying the enraged damsels. They insisted\nupon it that the youth had encouraged them both, and the only dispute\nbetween them now was as to which of them had been worse treated by him.\nThey told him, moreover, that his pretended fidelity to Belinda should\nnot bring happiness either to him or her. They would plague her life\nout, for the matter of that. Ugly little toad! why should she have a\nhusband at all? And as for him--he should be punished handsomely for\nthis, and that, too, perhaps, sooner than he thought.\n\nThey then left the summer-house, and, I am sorry to say, allowed their\nanger to carry them far beyond what could in any way be justified. They\nagreed to go to their father that very afternoon, and tell him that Zac\nhad been very impertinent to both of them, and that Amabilia had\nsurprized him trying to kiss Concaterina against her will in the\nsummer-house. This they accordingly did, and the effects were much what\nthey had expected.\n\nThe king flew into a violent passion, threw both his boots with an\nunerring aim at the head of Lord Pompous, and vowed that the world must\ncertainly be coming to an end. When the courtiers had all agreed to\nthis as a novel but most reasonable remark, he called them a parcel of\nfools for thinking such a thing at all probable, and ordered Zac to be\nimmediately arrested. When told of what he was accused, the poor boy\nwas almost beside himself with grief. He was sorry enough for the\ntrouble he was in, and for that which might fall upon Belinda in\nconsequence; but he was still more sorry for the cruel conduct of the\ntwo princesses, whom he had really liked, and who had behaved so\nheartlessly to him for only doing his duty. Even now, however, he\nbehaved like a true gentleman.\n\nWhen Fridolin asked him what he had to allege in his defence, he bowed\nlow before the king, and said \"Nothing.\" When asked if he then\nconfessed himself guilty, he replied:\n\n\"May it please your majesty, I should feel guilty if I allowed myself\nto deny any statement made by the noble princesses, your majesty's\nroyal daughters.\"\n\nThis speech would have touched many hearts, but Fridolin was in too\ngreat a passion at that moment to be touched by anything, and he gave\norders that Zac should immediately be thrown into a deep dungeon, fed\nupon bread and water, and confined there until it should be settled\nwhether he should be beheaded or banished, which were the only two\npunishments which occurred to the king just then. Accordingly, the poor\nboy was roughly dragged away from the royal presence, taken down a\ngreat many stone steps, until he arrived at the dungeon door, and then\nthrust through it, and left to think over all that had happened.\n\nThe Princess Belinda, meanwhile, was quite ignorant of the whole affair\nuntil the next morning, when her two sisters visited her in her\napartment. They came, as may be supposed, in no very friendly state of\nmind, and told their story in a manner which would have greatly\ndistressed Belinda, if she had not had the most perfect reliance upon\nZac. They pretended to condole with her on the circumstance of his\nhaving repeatedly made love to both of them, playing one off against\nthe other, and striving to induce them to persuade the king to let him\nmarry one of them instead of her. They said that they had refrained\nfrom telling her this before, for fear of wounding her feelings, but\nthat now they were obliged to do so. Then they told their concocted\nstory about the summer-house, and related all that had subsequently\noccurred. Poor Belinda shed bitter tears, but showed her disbelief in\ntheir story so plainly, that they presently changed their tone, asked\nwho and what _she_ was, forsooth, that a husband should be provided for\nher--telling her that she should never have him after all, that they\nwould take care he was kept in the dungeon until he came to his senses,\nand making all kinds of other unpleasant observations, which made the\npoor child very unhappy. So as soon as her sisters had left her, she\ndetermined to go down to her foster-mother's cottage, and seek\nconsolation from her.\n\nOff she set, and walked down to the forest, crying all the way, until\nshe got to the cottage. There, to her dismay, she found the door\nlocked, for the good woman had gone to carry her husband's dinner out\nto him on the plain, and had locked up the house until her return.\nBelinda did not know what to do, for as she was not very strong, she\nfelt somewhat tired with her walk, and not equal to walking back again\nwithout rest. So she sat down in the trellised arbour by the cottage\ndoor, and presently fell fast asleep. As she slept, she dreamed a\ncurious dream. She thought that her mother came and looked upon her. Of\ncourse, Belinda could not remember her mother, for the very good reason\nthat she had died very shortly after the child was born. Still, somehow\nor other, she knew it was her mother, very bright and beautiful, and\nwith such a loving look upon her face as only mothers have when they\ngaze upon their children. When her mother had looked down upon her for\na little while, she stooped down and spoke, in a soft, sweet, gentle\ntone of voice.\n\n\"My little one,\" she said, \"do not despair and be down-hearted: all\nwill yet be well with you. You have had much trouble in the past, but\nyour happiness in the future will be all the brighter by the contrast.\nIf you want help, you are near it now, for Canetto, the Prince of the\nForest Mannikins, is my cousin, and you are in his country.\"\n\nBelinda started up wide-awake, just as her mother seemed to have\nfinished speaking. The words were still ringing in her ears, and she\nlooked round and rubbed her eyes in great amazement. There was nothing\nto be seen. A soft breeze from the south gently stirred the leaves of\nthe honeysuckle and sweetbriar which enfolded the little arbour in\ntheir fragrant embrace. The doves were gently cooing in the fir-trees,\nand far, far away she heard the distant bleating of the sheep on the\nplain, but there was no mortal being near her. The loving mother, then,\nhad been but the unreal vision of a dream, and the encouraging words\nhad been no more than a passing thought or fancy of her own,\nmysteriously clothed for a moment with sound. Yet they seemed so\nvivid--so true. So certain was she that she had actually heard them,\nthat almost insensibly she found herself repeating them aloud.\n\n\"Canetto, the Prince of the Forest Mannikins,\" she exclaimed, and the\nnext moment started with affright at the effect which her own words had\nproduced.\n\n\"Who calls Canetto?\" said a voice; and at the same instant she\nperceived a figure standing a few yards off from the entrance to the\narbour. It was the figure of a little old man, about three feet high,\ndressed in a dark green coat, with a velveteen waistcoat and white\ncorduroys. In his hand he held a hunting-whip, with which he carelessly\nflicked off the heads of the daisies as he stood. Upon his head was a\nspecies of wide-awake, as far as Belinda could judge; at least it was\nof that kind of shape, and seemed to be made of some light material\nsuited to the heat of the weather. But the most remarkable thing about\nthe old gentleman was the marvellous mixture of intelligence and\ngood-humour which appeared upon his countenance. His eyes sparkled with\na kind of light, which told you at the first glance that he was not a\nman to be easily hum-bugged, whilst the smile which seemed constantly\nhovering upon his mouth betokened a fund of humour and kind-heartedness\nwhich was very reassuring to the young princess.\n\n\"Who calls Canetto?\" he said again, in a kind voice.\n\nThe maiden knew that common politeness, as well as her own interest,\nrequired a prompt reply.\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I am Belinda, King Fridolin's youngest daughter, and\nmy mother was your cousin, I think, and I am very unhappy, and I don't\nknow what to do, and I dreamed that my mother came and told me to ask\nyou to help me; and oh! pray don't be angry with me, for I do not want\nto do any harm to anybody, only if I may be a little happier!\"\n\nWhile Belinda spoke the little man kept on flicking his hunting-whip\nand smiling benignly all the time.\n\n\"A little happier, my lambkin?\" he said as soon as she had finished.\n\"To be sure you shall. Why not? Your mother my cousin? That she was\nindeed, poor darling! Not only my cousin was she, but we used to be the\nbest of friends before she married King Fridolin, after which I saw\nlittle of her, and knew nothing of her great trouble until it was too\nlate to help her.\"\n\nAt these words the princess quite forgot her own sorrow for the moment,\nin the intense desire she had to know the history of the mother of whom\nneither her father nor her sisters ever spoke.\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" she cried in an agitated voice, \"please tell me about my\ndear mother. I have so longed to know all about her, and I never shall\nknow unless somebody tells me, for she died when I was quite little,\nand no one in the palace ever speaks of her to me.\"\n\nA tinge of melancholy replaced the smile upon the little man's face as\nhe replied to Belinda's question.\n\n\"Your mother,\" said he, \"was neither more nor less than an angel, which\nis more than I can say for your royal father; although, after all, his\nfaults are rather those of his education than any which arise from his\nnatural disposition, which is far from bad. But it is difficult for\nkings, who have the world at their feet and always get their own way,\nto be all that one could wish them. Your mother was as near perfection,\nin body as well as mind, as any human being can attain. Why she married\nyour father I could never understand, except it was because she chose\nto do so. There were others,\" (here the small gentleman drew himself up\nto his full height, placed his right hand upon his heart, and heaved a\ndeep sigh), \"there were others who loved her as well and might have\nmade her happier. But Fridolin carried her off, and for a time they\nwere happy. When your elder sisters were born he was contented,\nalthough he had wished for a prince, but he could not object to\nchildren of such rare beauty. Then came the trouble.\n\n\"The fairy Nuisancenika had, and has, wondrous power over the Plain\ncountry--by which I don't mean the country of 'plain' people, though\n_she_ is 'plain' enough in all conscience, but the flat country,\nwherever there are no woods and hills. Well, this disagreeable woman\nwas always jealous of your mother's beauty, because she herself\npossessed none, and was the more angry with her because, I think, she\nalways had a fancy to be queen herself. Still, she dared not injure a\nqueen who had carefully avoided doing anything which might give her\nreasonable cause of offence. True, she did what she could to poison\nyour father's mind and make him dislike his wife; but, save for an\nunfortunate accident, I think she would have failed altogether. The\npoor queen dropped her writing-case upon one occasion, and the wicked\nfairy, finding it, secured some of her private note paper and envelopes\nwith her own particular cipher thereupon. Of these she made use by\nwriting, in exact imitation of your mother's handwriting, some very\ndisagreeable things about the king, which she took good care should\nfall into his hands. This caused unpleasantness between the hitherto\nhappy couple, and Nuisancenika made it her business to manage that it\nshould not pass away. Then, most unhappily, in driving out one day in\nher pony-carriage, your poor mother had the bad luck to drive over one\nof the fairy's favourite adders, which was fast asleep on a grass ride\nwhere it had no earthly business to be, and had no right whatever to\ncomplain of being killed. But the wicked mistress was furious beyond\nmeasure; and as the event occurred when the queen was in the plain\ncountry, driving, I believe, to fetch her husband news how the lambing\nwas going on, this circumstance somehow or other gave the fairy power\nover her which she cruelly used. Had I only known of it in time, the\nwhole misfortune might have been prevented, but I chanced to be away on\na visit, and when I returned, your mother was dead and the mischief\ndone. I heard of it too late, and the wretch Nuisancenika had taken\nsuch precautions by her enchantments during my absence that, although\nmy power is greater than hers, I could do nothing at all in the matter;\nnor could I have even disclosed to you the truth, as I have now done,\nunless you had, of your own free will, come into my country and asked\nme the question outright.\"\n\nBy the time Canetto had finished his sad story, the poor child to whom\nhe spoke was bathed in tears. She thought not of herself, for her want\nof beauty and good shape were misfortunes which she had been long\naccustomed to regard with resignation; but the sorrows and sufferings\nof her mother penetrated her gentle spirit with the profoundest\nemotion. She looked up through her tears at the little man, and thanked\nhim in a soft, low voice, broken by her sobs, for his goodness in\nsatisfying her curiosity.\n\nAfter a short pause he began again:--\n\n\"Dry your tears, my petkin,\" he said, \"for I have not come here to make\nyou miserable, but the very reverse, if I can but manage to do so. It\nwas only right that you should know the sorrows of your mother, and the\nstory of your birth, but I should not have cared to tell you if I could\ndo nothing more. It is now _your_ turn to speak, and tell me the reason\nof your coming here; because I have had no communication with the\npalace, and could have none, during the time that the spell lasted,\nwhich you have this day broken by coming here.\"\n\nBelinda did as she was told (which young ladies should always do, if\nthey wish to be respected and beloved, unless they are told to do\nsomething which they dislike, in which case of course it is quite a\ndifferent matter) and then proceeded to tell the Prince of the Forest\nMannikins the whole story of her life, her affection for Zac, the\nconduct of her sisters with regard to that excellent youth, and her\npresent affliction in consequence of his imprisonment by her father.\n\nDuring the narration of her story, the little man flicked his\nhunting-whip continually and appeared at once interested and excited.\nWhen she had concluded, and seemed much inclined to indulge in another\nflood of tears, he hastily stopped her.\n\n\"Little petkin,\" he remarked, \"crying can do nobody any good at all,\nand least of all anyone who has another and better cure for their\nmisfortunes. Come with me, Childerkin, and we will see whether\nsomething cannot be done to make matters wear a better appearance.\"\n\nWith these words Canetto led the way into the forest behind the\nshepherd's cottage, and Belinda followed him with the utmost\nconfidence, being quite sure that he meant to help her if he could. And\nhere we must leave our little princess for a time, in order to return\nto another individual in whom we ought to be equally interested.\n\nPoor Zac had been cast into a most uncomfortable dungeon, in which\nthere was only one half-broken wooden form to sit down upon, whilst the\nair was close and heavy, the space confined, and the only light came\nfrom a grating in one corner of the ceiling, probably placed there for\nthe purposes of ventilation, and opening into the bottom of a kind of\ndeep ditch, which itself could only be reached by the light from a long\ndistance above. This was indeed a sad change for the poor boy, who had\nso long been accustomed to the comforts and luxuries of the palace. He\nfelt, as was natural, much cast down and dispirited by his sudden\nreverse of fortune, and his only consolation was that he had not\nbrought it on himself by any bad conduct of his own. It was very\nunpleasant, certainly, to be accused of behaving badly to the two\nprincesses, when no one could have possibly behaved better; but he\nthought to himself that it would have been much worse if he had really\nbeen guilty. Besides, he had another consolation, in the firm reliance\nwhich he felt in the constancy and affection of Belinda. She, he knew,\nwould be true to him, whatever happened, and this thought cheered his\ndrooping spirits.\n\nHe felt rather hungry, and, finding a loaf of black bread and a pitcher\nof water near it, determined to satisfy his craving forthwith. Having\ndone this there was nothing for it but to sit and think, which he\naccordingly did, going carefully over in his mind all the events of his\npast life, and wondering much at the curious fate which had befallen\nhim. He could not recollect anything that had happened when he was\n_very_ young. He only remembered being very unhappy at his father's\nhouse, being called by his elder brothers and sisters \"the little\ngentleman,\" and pushed about here and there and everywhere, as if\neverybody wished him out of the way. Then he called to mind how hard he\nhad tried to be gentle and loving to all, and how he had gradually\nseemed to get on better and to be more kindly treated. Then came the\ncircumstance of his having specially to tend the pigs, and then the\nproclamation of the pig-race, when he remembered a discussion about who\nshould ride \"Sandy Sue,\" and how one of the elder Dicksons had been\nanxious to do so, but was forbidden by his father, who said that\n\"gentleman Zac\" was the only one who could win on her, and ride he\nshould. Since that day of course he remembered everything very\ndistinctly--how he had been introduced to the little princess, and her\nsisters, and the king--how frightened he had been at first, and how\nsoon he had got over that feeling--how kind they had all been to\nhim--how he had taken to his learning and delighted in his books; and\nthen all the sad and trying events of the last few months and his\nsudden downfall from his career of promised happiness.\n\nAll these thoughts passed through the poor boy's head as he sat in his\nlonely dungeon, and hours slipped by without his taking any count of\nthem. The shades of evening had now fallen upon the palace, but this\nmade little difference to Zac, and indeed he found he could see rather\nbetter than upon his first entrance, since his eyes began to become\naccustomed to the light. All at once he heard a little noise, as if\nsome animal was scratching close at hand. He looked listlessly round,\nand thought how little it mattered to him what it was. A rat or a mouse\nwould be a companion to his solitude, but if such a creature appeared\nit would probably fly as soon as it caught sight of him. The noise\ncontinued, and in another moment a little mouse poked its head out of a\nhole in the corner of the dungeon, and fixed its sharp black eyes upon\nthe prisoner as if it had come on purpose to see him and was very glad\nto find him disengaged. Zac did not move at first, being fearful lest\nhe should disturb his little visitor; but he need not have been\nalarmed, for it presently came quite out of the hole and sat a few\nyards off from him, steadily looking him in the face. Seeing the\nconfidence of the animal, Zac thought there could be no fear of his\ndriving it away by the sound of his voice, so he said, partly to the\nmouse and partly to himself:--\n\n\"Poor little creature, I wonder what _you_ want here?\"\n\nTo his intense surprise the small creature immediately replied, in a\nshrill but by no means unpleasant voice:--\n\n\"I came to see you, Mr. Zac, and to tell you the latest news.\"\n\n\"To see me!\" exclaimed the astonished boy. \"Well, you must be the best\nmouse that ever was born to come and take pity upon a poor prisoner\nlike me. And since you can talk so well, perhaps you will kindly inform\nme what news it is you have to tell.\"\n\n\"King Fridolin is very, very angry with you, Mr. Zac,\" replied the\nmouse.\n\n\"Unfortunately, my little darling, _that_ is no news at all,\" rejoined\nthe boy; \"I knew it, to my cost, some hours ago, and it is for that\nvery reason that you find me here.\"\n\n\"But,\" continued the mouse, \"he is so angry that he is determined to\npunish you with the most terrible punishment ever known, and is only\ndoubting now whether you shall be thrown into the adder-pit, or\nstripped, smeared with honey and tied to a tree to amuse the wasps and\nflies.\"\n\nThe poor boy shuddered at these words; but, recovering his firmness\nimmediately, rejoined:--\n\n\"Whatever it be, it will be in a good cause that I shall suffer, and I\nmust bear it as best I may.\"\n\nThe mouse went on:--\n\n\"You really ought not to have tried to kiss the Princess Concaterina,\nMr. Zac,\" she said.\n\n\"If you know anything at all, little mouse,\" said the boy, indignantly,\n\"you must know that I did no such thing.\"\n\n\"Then,\" rejoined the other, \"why did you not deny it before the king?\"\n\n\"Do you think I would brand Belinda's own sisters as the tellers of a\nfalsehood?\" returned Zac.\n\n\"I think _I_ should, sooner than be thrown into a dungeon, and perhaps\ninto an adder-pit afterwards,\" gravely observed his visitor. \"But they\nsay there is some hope for you yet; for the princesses are really fond\nof you, and if you will consent to marry Concaterina, all may yet be\nwell with you.\"\n\n\"Do you think I would be so base as to save my life upon such terms?\"\nangrily responded the boy.\n\n\"Well, I don't know,\" said the mouse in a slow, hesitating tone of\nvoice, \"I think I should, if I were you. I should really advise you to\ndo so. Just consider what a disagreeable, uncomfortable place this is,\ncompared with the palace. Then how _very_ unpleasant it would be to\nfeel the adders, creeping all over you with their cold, slimy touch,\nand then stinging you to death at their leisure afterwards. Or how\npainful and distressing to feel the wasps and flies biting and stinging\nyou, cheerfully buzzing about to look out for a tender place. Oh, it\nwould be a horrible death to die! I should _strongly_ advise you to\nmarry Concaterina and escape such a fate!\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Zac, \"do you come here pretending to be a friend of\nmine, and advise me to be false to Belinda and break my plighted word?\nI am quite ashamed of you for giving such advice, little mouse; as I\nshould be of myself if I could listen to it for one moment!\"\n\n\"As for Belinda,\" replied the animal, shaking its head sorrowfully, \"I\ndo not think you need concern yourself about _her_. She implicitly\nbelieves the charge against you, and is eager that you should be\npunished; whilst her tender-hearted sisters are inclined to ask their\nfather to pardon you.\"\n\nAt these words Zac started up in a great passion.\n\n\"Belinda false!\" he cried. \"Belinda believe me _guilty_! Mouse, I will\nnever believe it! You have betrayed yourself, and are an enemy instead\nof a friend. I would sooner believe evil of myself than of the princess\nagainst whom you utter this calumny. Take this for your wicked\nfalsehood!\" So saying, he seized his shoe to throw at the mouse; when,\nto his intense surprise, the little animal became suddenly transformed\ninto a human being, and Belinda herself stood before him.\n\n\"Dearest Zac!\" she said, running up at once to the boy and embracing\nhim tenderly, \"forgive me for the trial to which I have put your\nconstancy. It was not _my_ wish to do so, but the order of those who\nhave the right to command. I have found a friend who is as able as he\nis willing to help us, and by his assistance I believe our happiness\nwill yet be secured. By his power I have been enabled to visit you in\nyour dungeon in the shape of a mouse, in order that I might convey to\nyou some information which is quite necessary to your safety.\"\n\n\"But who is this powerful friend?\" asked Zac, when, having returned her\ncaress, he found words to express his feelings.\n\n\"He is Canetto, the Prince of the Forest Mannikins,\" replied Belinda;\n\"and having been a near relative of my dear mother's, he is very well\ndisposed towards me.\"\n\n\"What then am I to do?\" asked the boy. \"For, shut up, as I am, in this\nhorrid dungeon, it seems to me that nobody can do anything for me,\nunless indeed they would change me into a mouse, that I might pass out\nby the same hole as that by which you entered.\"\n\n\"That,\" said Belinda, \"might doubtless be a very good plan, but it is\nnot the one which I am directed to follow. You must know that our\nfriend, all-powerful in the forest, has elsewhere bounds and limits to\nhis power, the reasons and degree of which you and I cannot understand.\nIt is for this cause that he does not come here at once and deliver you\nfrom the dungeon; but, though he does not attempt this, he will give\nyou such help as shall assuredly procure your deliverance in due time.\nHe bade me tell you that you will certainly be taken out of this place\nto-morrow, when the king will advise with his council what to do with\nyou. Be firm--though this I need scarcely tell you: if they give you\nyour choice of death, or if they offer you one wish before you die,\nchoose to be killed in the forest, under the shadow of the trees near\nmy foster-mother's cottage, and if they grant that wish the rest will\nbe easy. If (as is of course possible) they offer you no choice at all\nin the matter, you must pronounce the magic word which alone can\nprevent them harming you, but with which you are invulnerable.\"\n\n\"And what may that word be?\" anxiously inquired Zac.\n\n\"It is not an easy one,\" replied the princess, \"but as I may only say\nit twice, listen very carefully whilst I do so, that you may remember\nit well, since the least mistake might be attended with disastrous\nconsequences. The word is--'Ballykaluphmenonabababandleby.\"\n\n\"_What?_\" exclaimed Zac in a horrified voice; upon which the princess\nrepeated the word again very slowly; but, though it doubtless appears\nvery easy to the reader, it completely puzzled poor Zac. He shook his\nhead mournfully--\n\n\"If it depends upon _that_,\" said he, \"the game is up--I should never\nbe able to pronounce that word, if I waited till apples grow on peach\ntrees.\"\n\n\"I am very sorry,\" answered the princess in a sorrowful voice, \"but you\nsee I can only tell you what Canetto told _me_, and we must hope for\nthe best. But now it is time for me to be off, for if I am not back at\nthe palace soon, my absence will be discovered, and I may be exposed to\nunpleasant questions.\" So saying, she once more embraced the boy, and\nthen, approaching the hole, muttered some words which the mannikin king\nhad, no doubt, told her, and in another moment became once more a\nmouse, and vanished from his sight.\n\nThe interview had somewhat encouraged Zac, although he had fearful\nmisgivings about the magic word, which, strange to say, appeared to him\nboth long and difficult. However, he resolved to make the best of it;\nand having finished his loaf of bread and pitcher of water, lay down on\nsome straw which he found in the corner of his room, and fell fast\nasleep. In the morning he was awakened by a surly gaoler, who brought\nhim a fresh loaf and some more water, of which he partook with all the\nrelish of a good appetite. Not long after this, he heard the noise of\npersons descending the steps which led to his dungeon, and presently\nthe door was thrown open, and a guard appeared, whose orders were to\nconduct the prisoner once more before the king.\n\nFridolin was sitting in his chair of state, surrounded by his\ncourtiers; and near him stood the two elder princesses, with downcast\neyes and cheeks suffused with modest blushes.\n\nWhen the boy was brought in, the king frowned angrily upon him, and\nshook his royal fist in a threatening manner.\n\n\"Well, you young villain!\" he cried; \"have you passed the night\nbewailing your sins, and making ready for the death which certainly\nawaits you?\"\n\n\"My lord king,\" answered the boy, with uplifted head and undaunted eye,\n\"I have done no wrong against you or yours, and I deserve no death at\nyour hands.\"\n\n\"What?\" cried the king in a rage. \"Didst thou not admit thy crime\nyesterday? Art thou not guilty of the charge brought against thee by\nour daughters?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" replied the boy, \"I said yesterday, and I say again, that I\nwill not deny any statement made by these noble ladies.\"\n\n\"This is nonsense,\" said the king; \"this is mere quibbling--again he\nadmits his guilt. What shall we do with him? I say death!\"\n\nThe courtiers all immediately said death too, as they would with equal\nunanimity have said anything else if their sovereign had happened to\nsay it instead.\n\n\"Well, then,\" rejoined the king, \"by what death shall he die? What say\nyou, Lord Pompous?\"\n\n\"Boil him,\" promptly replied the lord chamberlain, who was quite taken\naback at being thus suddenly addressed, and who was at the moment\nthinking of a turkey which he had ordered for dinner, and with which he\nconfused the prisoner at the moment.\n\n\"Pompous, you are a fool!\" shouted the king.\n\n\"As your majesty pleases,\" responded the old man, with a low obeisance;\nand Fridolin went on to ask other opinions, which were all given with a\nguarded reservation, that they were subject to his majesty thinking the\nsame, and if not, were no opinions at all.\n\n\"I think,\" said Fridolin presently, \"that the pit of adders is the best\nplace for him.\"\n\n\"Just so, sire.\"\n\n\"Exactly what we thought.\"\n\n\"The very thing,\" were the muttered exclamations which immediately\npassed round.\n\nAt this moment, Amabilia, rushed forward and threw herself at her\nfather's feet.\n\n\"Oh, no! dear father,\" she cried in piteous tones; \"_not_ such a\ndreadful fate as that, poor boy. Pray be more merciful, for _my_ sake.\"\n\nFridolin raised her affectionately from the ground.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he said, \"have it your own way, my queenly girl; he shall\n_not_ be thrown into the adder-pit if you have the slightest objection.\nGentlemen,\" he continued, turning to his council, \"what say you to the\nhoney torture, and giving the wasps and bees and flies a treat?\"\n\n\"Very good, your Majesty;\" \"Just the proper punishment for his crime,\"\nand similar observations, again proceeded from the crowd of sycophants.\n\nBut at this instant Concaterina jumped up and performed precisely the\nsame feat as that of her sister. Throwing herself upon her knees, she\nclasped those of her father, and begged him not to subject poor Zac to\nsuch a dreadful fate.\n\n\"All right,\" said the king, to whom nothing was so disagreeable as to\nsee his daughters cry, which Concaterina was beginning to do, and that\ncopiously. \"He shall not die thus, if you don't wish it, my beauty; but\nwhat in the name of all that is wonderful do you want me to do with the\nfellow, if I am not to execute him according to the regular punishments\nof the country?\"\n\nNow both the princesses had begun to be sorry for Zac; for on calmer\nreflection they had come to the conclusion that it was rather hard that\nhe should die so young, and die, too, for keeping his faith which he\nhad plighted to a lady. True, he was a horrid fool for not preferring\none of them; but then fidelity was a virtue, and a rare one, and he\npunished himself by preferring a plain--not to say ugly--wife to a\nbeauty. They would have been quite content to have given him a little\nmore taste of dungeon life, and then let him off, and all this talk\nabout killing him did not at all chime in with their ideas. Still, they\nhad raised the storm, and, as other people in a similar position have\noften discovered, knew not how to allay it. If they recommended Zac's\npardon, they feared that their father would begin to doubt whether he\nhad really committed any offence at all. So they hung their heads and\nsaid nothing, whilst Zac turned upon them a grateful look for having\nsaved him from two such unpleasant alternatives as those which had been\nsuggested.\n\nAfter the king had pondered a minute, he struck violently at Lord\nPompous' toe with his sceptre, and gave vent to his usual exclamation\nwhen excited by a sudden idea--\"I've hit it!\" which, fortunately for\nthe lord chamberlain, was in this instance untrue.\n\n\"The prisoner,\" continued the king, \"shall choose his own death and the\nplace of his execution. Thus shall we blend mercy with justice, and\nmaintain our royal reputation for both.\"\n\nOn hearing these gracious words, the courtiers naturally turned\ntheir eyes up to the heavens in admiration of such a display of\nelevated feeling; and Lord Pompous looked wiser than ever, though\nhe instinctively edged a little further off from his august sovereign.\n\nThe latter now turned to Zac and demanded of him what death he would\nchoose to die, and where it should take place; calling upon him, at the\nsame time, to take notice of the clemency with which he was treated.\n\nAlthough this did not strike Zac very forcibly, he was exceedingly glad\nthat matters had fallen out in this way, especially since his\ntreacherous memory had already completely forgotten the magic word,\nwhich might otherwise have been his only chance of escape. He therefore\nlost no time in answering the king's question.\n\n\"May it please your majesty,\" he said, \"since my death is resolved\nupon, I should like to be shot in the breast, so that I may stand face\nto face with my executioners. For the place, I should like to be taken\ndown to the forest, where of old I kept my father's pigs, a simple boy\nknowing nothing of palaces and princesses, which have brought me to\nthis. These were the scenes of my happy childhood. There let me end my\nshort life.\"\n\nWhen the boy had finished speaking, Amabilia and Concaterina both burst\ninto tears, and would have interceded once more with their royal\nparent, but the stern frown which he wore on his countenance restrained\nthem from so doing.\n\nFridolin directed that preparations should be made for the execution\nwithin two hours of that time, and that all his court should be\nsummoned to it. It was to take place in a large open space upon the\nedge of the forest, not far from the shepherd's cottage; and, in\nconsequence of the magnitude of the crime, and the exalted position\nwhich the criminal had lately occupied as the affianced husband of one\nof the king's daughters, the executioners were to be composed of\nmembers of the nobility, all of whom were ordered to draw lots by which\nit should be decided who should undertake this duty. Some little delay\nwas caused by the name of Lord Pompous being first drawn, who was known\nto entertain a rooted aversion to fire-arms. This being properly\nrepresented to the king, and also the extreme probability that the lord\nchamberlain would in his confusion certainly shoot the wrong man, his\nmajesty was graciously pleased to allow the name to be set aside, and\ntwelve others selected. This done, and all the other arrangements\ncompleted, the royal party set forth at the proper time, and came to\nthe spot which had been selected for the execution.\n\nThe two princesses who had been the cause of all this were by this time\nplunged into the deepest distress, for they had never really intended\nit to go so far, and thought that Zac would probably have been brought\nto his knees and his senses before this, and would have been pardoned\non condition of his marrying one of them. They had not taken into\naccount the necessity of satisfying offended royalty, and that their\nfather, insulted as he believed himself to have been through them,\ncould not possibly pass the matter over without taking summary\nvengeance on the culprit.\n\nNobody had thought anything of Belinda; but, to the surprise of many of\nthe party, she emerged from the door of her foster-mother's cottage,\nleaning upon the old woman's arm, and apparently overwhelmed with\ngrief.\n\nWhen the prisoner had been brought forward, the king in a loud voice\ndeclared to the people what his crime had been, and what was to be his\npunishment.\n\nThen Zac, in a firm, calm tone, spoke to the crowd in these words. \"I\nhave only one thing to answer to what is brought against me. I was\nbetrothed to the Princess Belinda, and I have been loyal and true to\nher ever since my betrothal.\"\n\nBefore any one could prevent her, Belinda here suddenly sprang forward\nwith an agility of which no one believed her capable, and threw herself\ninto Zac's arms, exclaiming at the same time--\"I believe you, my own\nZac; let us die together.\"\n\nThe crowd began to murmur. The king began to waver. The elder sisters\ncried still more bitterly at the sight of such devotion. There was a\nmoment's hesitation, and a hope that Fridolin might relent from his\ncruel purpose; when at that very moment a loud, hissing noise was\nheard, and the figure of a little old woman, long past middle age and\nwithout the slightest pretensions to beauty, came driving into the\nmiddle of the crowd in a car drawn by pole-cats, whilst upon and around\nher twined numerous snakes and adders, who hissed in such a threatening\nmanner at the crowd that the latter parted right and left in every\ndirection, and made way for her to advance within a very short distance\nof the spot upon which stood the royal party and the prisoner.\n\nEvery eye was at once turned upon the new-comer, who waved her hand in\nan imperious manner, and looked round with an eye accustomed to\ncommand. As soon as it was evident she was about to speak, the snakes\nand adders left off hissing, and there was a dead silence throughout\nthe whole body of people present. The old woman's voice was not\nmelodious--rather the contrary, in fact--but she spoke clearly enough,\nand there was not the slightest difficulty in understanding her\nmeaning.\n\n\"I am the fairy Nuisancenika,\" she said, \"and I reign, as many of you\nmay possibly know, over the Plain country. Having been particularly\nbusy lately in inventing a new kind of adder whose bite shall be beyond\nthe power of any antidote, I had not heard of the event which has been\nappointed for to-day. As soon as I _did_ hear, I determined to come and\nwitness a righteous act performed by my old friend, King Fridolin.\n\n\"It is now some years ago since I avenged him upon his abominable wife,\nwhom I always detested, and who fortunately gave me power over her by\ndriving over my best viper in my own country. My vengeance, however,\nwas not satisfied by her death. Although I had no power over her elder\ndaughters, I was enabled to endow the last child with certain defects\nand deformities which it is pleasant to me to find have been rather\nincreased than lessened by time. But if this girl gets a good and\nloving husband, these things will cease to trouble her, and I shall be\nrobbed of one half my revenge. The low-born person she has chosen for\nher husband would be beneath my notice but that she has fixed her\naffections upon him. That is enough for me. He must die; and, when\nFridolin considers that this fellow has insulted his elder and\nbeautiful daughters, I cannot doubt that he will be of my opinion, and\ndirect that the sentence be carried out without further delay.\"\n\nShe ceased; and a dead silence prevailed for a few seconds.\n\nThen Fridolin turned sharply to Pompous. \"Lord chamberlain, what had I\nbetter do?\"\n\n\"What your majesty deems best under the circumstances,\" responded the\nhigh functionary thus addressed.\n\n\"Pompous, you are a fool,\" retorted the king, angrily.\n\n\"If your majesty please to say so,\" replied the courtier, with a low\nbow, and once more the sovereign had to think for himself. \"There is\nmuch force, madam, in what you advance upon this subject,\" he remarked\nto the fairy.\n\n\"If there had not been I should not have taken the trouble to advance\nit,\" answered she. \"Do not make fool of yourself by pretending to doubt\nas to what you ought to do. Have the young man shot directly, unless\nyou prefer that I should let my adders loose upon him.\"\n\nScarcely were these words out of her mouth, when a clear, flute-like\nvoice was heard ringing through the assembly. \"Who talks of letting\nloose adders in _my_ country?\"\n\nThe people looked up and beheld a little man in a dark green coat,\nvelveteen waistcoat, and white corduroys, coming out of the forest with\na hunting-whip in his hand, which he leisurely flicked about as he\nwalked towards the royal party.\n\nBut this strange figure was not alone. There trooped after him, three\nand three at a time, a whole regiment of little men, all dressed in\ngreen, and apparently belonging to the first comer. They had also\nwhips, but kept them quiet, whilst they gradually increased in number,\nuntil there were really more than you could have easily counted.\n\n\"I say!\" repeated the little man in the same voice. \"Who talks of\nletting loose adders in _my_ country?\"\n\n\"_Your_ country?\" asked Fridolin indignantly. \"It is _mine_!\"--but he\nwas checked by the fairy, who put him aside at once, telling him that\nhis claim was not disputed, but had nothing to do with the question.\n\n\"_Your_ country?\" she asked of the little man. \"I like that! why you\nknow quite well it is _mine_, and has been for ages.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said the other.\n\n\"I beg _yours_,\" retorted the fairy. \"What do you mean by your mannikin\nimpudence? It is my country, and I mean to have the prince killed, and\nsettle once for all with this last child of your doll-faced cousin.\"\n\n\"Not so fast, madam,\" replied the little man, calmly. \"It has never\nbeen disputed that my kingdom--that is, the forest territory--includes\nall the land within the limits of the forest, and the forest is held by\nour greatest fairy lawyers, beyond all doubt, to mean all the land upon\nand within which trees grow which are not separated from the bulk of\nthe forest by any fence. Cast your eyes behind you and you will see\nthat within the last few years, whilst you have been breeding adders,\nand I have been hunting and travelling, King Fridolin has planted\nlargely, and those chestnut plantations, stretching from the forest on\nthe extreme right, quite across to the fringe of forest on the left,\nhave enclosed every yard of ground on which we are standing to-day, and\nhave rendered it beyond all doubt, part and parcel of the forest\nterritory, and consequently my country.\"\n\nThe fairy Nuisancenika looked right and left, and her countenance fell\nconsiderably.\n\n\"Upon my word,\" she said, reluctantly, \"I believe you are right. I had\noverlooked those plantations. I don't know that I have any right to\ninterfere--I have given my advice--perhaps I had better go--\" and she\ntook her whip up as if to lash her polecats forward.\n\n\"Stop!\" cried the little man in a clear, strong voice. \"There are two\nwords to that bargain: those who enter the forest territory cannot quit\nit without my permission!\" So saying, he made a sign to his mannikins,\nwho immediately formed a ring, several deep, around the fairy and the\nwhole royal party. Then the little man made a courteous bow to\nFridolin, and proceeded as follows:\n\n\"Do not think for a moment, King Fridolin,\" he said, \"that any\nusurpation of your rights is intended by my claim, undoubted as it is,\nto sovereignty over this forest country. It is yours as kingdoms are\nreckoned among mortals, and mine is a species of power which will never\nclash with your authority. But you have several things to learn to-day\nwhich it would have been well for you if you had learned before. I am\nCanetto, king like yourself, and cousin to your late lamented wife.\nYour conduct to her would be perfectly inexcusable if it had not been\nthat your mind was poisoned and you were utterly deceived by this\nvilest of wicked fairies, Nuisancenika.\"\n\n\"'Tis false, villain!\" shrieked this person, on finding herself alluded\nto in this uncomplimentary manner.\n\n\"Hag!\" replied Canetto, with a glance of wrath at her, \"I should be\nsorry to be obliged to proceed at once to extremities, but another such\ninterruption will expose you to the violent probability of being\nwhipped to death with your own adders immediately.\"\n\nThe fairy made a gesture of impotent wrath, and gnashed her teeth\nsavagely while the mannikin thus continued:\n\n\"The letters, king, which you believed to have been written by Queen\nRosetta, were all forged by this wretch, and written upon paper which\nshe had stolen from my poor cousin. She it was, moreover, who poisoned\nthe queen by viper-broth, and caused Belinda to be deformed and\nafflicted as you see her. Fortunately, she was powerless to deprave her\nmind, or debase her intellect, and you are happy in the possession of\nsuch a daughter. But this wrinkled old sinner was not content with this\nmischief. She it is who has been endeavouring to sow dissension in your\nfamily, first, by putting it into the heads of both your elder\ndaughters to try and take away their sister's promised husband, and\nnext, by hardening your heart and preventing your showing mercy when\nall your children would desire you to do so. But for this she has a\nreason beyond her hatred of Rosetta, which has lasted even after her\ndeath. Did you hear her mention the word 'prince' just now in speaking\nof Zac? Well, Zac _is_ a prince!\"\n\nHere all three of the princesses started, and the two elder screamed\naloud.\n\n\"Yes!\" continued Canetto, \"that which I tell you is quite true,\nsurprising though it be. Zac's father is a powerful monarch, the king\nof the country of the Red Camellias, which lies beyond my forest.\nHaving a spite against the king, this vile sorceress stole the boy at\nan early age, and left him at a spot where he was found and taken home\nby Farmer Dickson, who will verify all that I say. By my magic art I\nknew this, but as I could do little or nothing beyond my forest, I\nthought it best to keep quiet. Now, however, you know the secret of\nZac's gentle manners and general good behaviour, which, whenever you\nobserve in a boy, you may be perfectly sure that he is either the son\nof a king, or of somebody else. The continuous and cruel hatred of\nNuisancenika has carried her to such a pitch, that she has come here\nto-day to gratify her vengeance, and feast her murderous old eyes upon\nthe death of this poor boy, and the sufferings of your youngest\ndaughter. Her first punishment, therefore, shall be to witness\nsomething precisely the reverse.\"\n\nThen turning to Zac he touched his fetters with the hunting-whip which\nhe held in his hand, when they immediately fell off. He next raised the\nwhip and laid the lash lightly across Belinda's shoulders, at the same\ntime pronouncing the words--\"Marlika, Marlika, humphty cambia,\" which\nall the world knows to be Mannikin expressions of vast power. In this\ninstance their effect was both instantaneous and marvellous. Belinda's\nhump fell off, formed itself into a round ball like a cannon ball;\nbounded up, hit the wicked Fairy a tremendous blow in the chest which\nknocked her backwards for a moment, and then utterly disappeared. But\nthis was not nearly all. Every defect in the young princess's form and\nfeatures vanished as if by magic, and she stood before the king, tall,\nupright, straight as an arrow, and blushing in all the pride of\nconscious beauty. At this moment, I am glad to say that Amabilia and\nConcaterina, instead of showing any jealous feeling at a change which\nreally made their younger sister more charming than themselves, gave\nvent to loud exclamations of joy, and rushed to congratulate and\nembrace her. The latter ceremony had already been performed by Zac, and\nall the royal family began to shed tears of happiness together.\n\nBut Fridolin had buried his face in his hands, and when he lifted up\nhis head, the marks of deep sorrow were set upon his features. \"Oh, my\nRosetta!\" he cried, in bitter anguish. \"My lost and loved Rosetta! my\nonly love! my noble queen!\" and as he spoke he swung his right arm\nviolently round in the extremity of his grief, catching Lord Pompous\nfull upon the nose with his fist, and causing it to bleed profusely.\n\n\"Do not grieve so much,\" observed Canetto with a smile; \"look behind\nyou and see what is to be seen.\"\n\nThe king turned and perceived a lady of great beauty and stately mien\nslowly advancing from the shepherd's cottage.\n\n\"'Tis she! 'Tis she!\" he shrieked at the top of his voice, hit Lord\nPompous a tremendous blow on the third button of his waistcoat, which\ndoubled him up in no time, and with another cry of \"Rosetta!\" rushed\ninto the arms of his long lost wife.\n\n\"You see,\" said Canetto, still smiling, \"Adder-broth is not so deadly\nbut what the forest has an antidote. Although I could not disclose it\nuntil now, and even pretended to Belinda that her mother had died\nduring my absence, it was not so. By my magic art I contrived that you\nshould bury a waxen figure instead of your queen, whom I safely\nconveyed to the forest. Had I not seen that you really repented of your\nsins against her, and was I not captivated by Belinda's goodness, I\nreally think I should never have let you have her again. But, since she\nwishes to return to you and to her children, I have agreed that it\nshall be so. Take care you treat her well and tenderly for the future.\n\n\"The royal family were now full of joy, and even Amabilia and\nConcaterina came in for their share of good luck, for the King of the\nMannikins chucked each of them pleasantly under the chin, told them\nthat he knew they were good girls at heart, and promised that both\nshould have royal husbands before they were twenty. Then he turned to\nthe fairy Nuisancenika with a dark frown upon his countenance.\n\n\"Miserable reprobate!\" he exclaimed, apparently taking particular\ndelight in finding new epithets applicable to the old woman. \"It only\nremains now to deal with you. During an existence now prolonged to an\nextent greater than that which any person kindly disposed towards\nmankind could have wished, you have done an infinite quantity of\nmischief. You have had considerable power, which you have consistently\nemployed as badly as possible. You are a pitiless, revengeful,\nremorseless, black-hearted old hag. And now at last you are completely\nin my power. Nothing can save you.\"\n\n\"Oh, mercy, mercy, dear, good King Canetto!\" piteously whined the\nfairy, as she crouched down in her car.\n\n\"Such mercy as you showed Rosetta and Belinda, and such as you wished\nto show Zac. Such, I say, and no more, shall be your own portion. And\nnow for the first scene of the last act. Kill the polecats!\"\n\nHe turned to his mannikins as he said this, and in another moment every\npolecat was knocked on the head.\n\n\"Now for the adders,\" said Canetto; and the little men cut them to\npieces with their whips in less time than you would have thought\npossible.\n\nThen the king turned to Nuisancenika and spoke again.\n\n\"I might have you dealt with in the same way,\" he said; \"and if I did\nso, there is no one present who would not warmly approve and say,\n'served her right.' But a true mannikin is never bloodthirsty, and I\nwill not adjudge to you that fate which you so richly deserve. Still,\nsince your power has been always exercised for ill, it must remain to\nyou no longer. I sentence you to be immediately and henceforth confined\nin a cave at the extreme eastern corner of the world, never to emerge\nthence until the hour comes when women leave off caring for dress, men\nlabour no more for power, and donkeys abandon braying.\"\n\nScarcely had Canetto finished speaking, when the unfortunate being,\nupon whom he had pronounced this appalling sentence, uttered one\nfrantic yell, and then disappeared in a whirlwind, which carried her\nright away over the forest. Nobody ever saw or heard of her again to my\nknowledge, but there is very little doubt that the sentence of the King\nof the Mannikins was duly carried out. The wise men, who have studied\nthese things carefully, say that there is very clear and certain proof\nof this. In the spring-time of the year, especially about March, a\ncold, bitter, spiteful wind blows from the east, seizes delicate\nthroats and tender noses, keeps people indoors when they much desire\nair and exercise; and if they attempt to get either, afflicts them with\nheavy colds, and what modern doctors call \"bronchial affections,\"\nmeaning much the same thing as that which our poor benighted fathers\nand mothers used to call \"sore throats.\" Well, do you think this east\nwind is a common, ordinary, respectable wind? Not at all. It is nothing\nmore nor less (say these wise ones) than the wicked old Fairy\nNuisancenika, who, heartily tired of her imprisonment in the cavern,\nfumes and rages madly about, and sometimes gets near enough to the\nmouth of the cave to spit and blow out some of her venom into the\nworld. Then comes disease to man and beast, and whenever I think of it\nI regret that Canetto did not serve the wretched old hag as he did her\npolecats and adders, and direct his mannikins to cut her in pieces with\ntheir hunting-whips. Just fancy if he had! Perhaps we should have had\nno more of those cruel east winds. But it was fated otherwise, and this\nis the result.\n\nAt all events, the bad fairy was comfortably got rid of so far as the\nroyal family of King Fridolin were concerned, and there is very little\nmore to be said about the rest that followed. Of course everything now\nwent rightly. Messages were sent to Zac's real father--the story of\nCanetto having been entirely confirmed by Farmer Dickson--and the\nresult was in every respect satisfactory. The king of the country of\nthe Red Camellias was delighted to recover his long lost son, and\nshowed his sense of what was right and proper under the circumstances\nby dying shortly after the wedding of Zac and Belinda had been duly\ncelebrated. The young prince consequently conveyed his lovely and\nloving bride to his own country, where they reigned for many years in\ngreat happiness and prosperity.\n\nAmabilia and Concaterina, having a mother's influence to guide them,\nimproved daily in every respect, and had no difficulty whatever in\nsecuring royal husbands within the time prophesied by Canetto, whose\ncourts they adorned by their beauty and whose homes they made happy by\ntheir domestic virtues.\n\nAs for King Fridolin, he passed the evening of his days more happily\nthan any other part of his life. Conscious of his former folly, he\nlearned to appreciate his restored queen as she deserved, and their\nrenewed affection for each other was romantic in its strength and\nfervour. Canetto paid them occasional visits, and was always received\nby them with that respect and regard which his conduct had so well\nearned. Everything flourished thenceforward in Fridolin's kingdom. Even\nLord Pompous hailed the change with delight, since his sovereign,\noccupied constantly in the enjoyment of his newly recovered happiness,\nomitted the practical jokes upon his lord chamberlain with which he had\nfrequently been wont to solace his idle hours. And during the long\nyears that followed before Fridolin's reign and life ended, the king\nconstantly called to mind the thrilling scenes of interest which I have\nrecounted, and invariably spoke with the greatest thankfulness of the\nhappy thought which came into his head upon that memorable day when he\nfirst projected the pig-race.\n\n\n\n\nEVELYN WITH THE FAIRIES.\n\n\nThere was once a little girl who was exceedingly fond of fairy tales.\nShe had read almost all the books that had ever been written about\nfairies and elves, and never lost an opportunity of hearing a story\nupon the same subject. The result of so much attention to this\nparticular branch of study was that which might have been expected. She\nbecame the most devout believer in the existence of the dear little\ncreatures about whom she read, and had no greater desire than that she\nmight some day or other become personally acquainted with one or more\nof them.\n\nHer chief regret was caused by the fact (which was, unhappily, too\ntrue) that no fairy godmother had presided over her birth, and that\nnone of those pleasant adventures had befallen her which usually follow\nsuch an event. Not only was this the case, but, so far as she could\nascertain, neither her father, mother, or any of her relations had ever\ncome in contact with a fairy, and she had been, little by little,\ndriven to the conclusion that she belonged to a commonplace, unromantic\nfamily, with whom the dwellers in fairyland had no concern and no\nconnection whatever.\n\nThis was a sad thought to the child, who was possessed of an extremely\nlively imagination, and would have liked nothing better than to have\nlived in those good old days when either a fairy or a witch, an ogre or\na dwarf, were to be found at every corner. She looked back to those\ndays with fond delight, and often wished that they might come again.\nShe loved to muse over the tales she had read and heard, and to imagine\ncurious scenes and strange creatures on every side of her, as she\nrambled through the shrubberies around her father's house, or strolled\naway into the great woods on one side of the park.\n\nOne day she had taken a longer stroll than usual, and suddenly came\nupon a part of the wood which she never remembered to have seen before.\nSomehow or other, she had strayed out of the path, and all around her\nwere tangled masses of fern, old pollard-trees bowed down to the ground\nby age and the weight of their branches, and thickets of thorns and\nbrambles, and here and there patches of smooth grass and moss, without\neither trees, fern or brambles upon them.\n\nThe birds were singing sweetly in the wood, the sun was shining\nbrightly in the heavens above (although his rays could not penetrate\nthe dense foliage of the trees), the dewdrops were glistening on the\nleaves, and everything seemed as beautiful as human eye could behold or\nhuman heart desire. The child looked around her for a moment, entranced\nwith the loveliness of the scene; then she heaved a deep sigh (too\ndeep, you would have thought, for so young a creature, who could hardly\nas yet have sorrows heavy enough to cause such a sigh), and said to\nherself with a sorrowful air:\n\n\"What a place this would be for my fairy godmother to meet me, if only\nI _had_ a fairy godmother! Heigho! Why are there not any fairies here?\"\n\nScarcely had she spoken when she started back astonished, for the\nspeech was hardly out of her mouth than the concluding word, \"fairies\nhere,\" seemed repeated by a myriad of tiny voices all round her, in\ntones so soft, so plaintive, and dying away with such a melancholy\ncadence that it needed no great amount of cleverness to assure the\nchild that they came from no ordinary or mortal throats.\n\nFor an instant she trembled, but it was more with expectation than\nfear, and she looked around her with eager eyes, to the right and left,\nlonging to see the beings who had uttered those soft and touching\nsounds. She saw nothing, however, and began to fear that, after all,\nshe would hear and see no more, and that nobody at home would believe\nher when she told of the mysterious voices. But, being a child of\ncourage, and remembering, moreover, that in most of the fairy tales of\nwhich she knew, the mortal to whom the kind fairies condescended to\nspeak or appear, was never frightened, but always did exactly the right\nthing, unless he or she happened to be wicked, when they invariably did\nthe _wrong_ thing and suffered accordingly. So she looked round once\nagain, and then said, in her most polite tones:\n\n\"Are there _really_ any fairies here?\"\n\nScarcely were the words out of her mouth, when the same sounds arose\nonce more, even more distinctly than before, on every side of her. This\ntime, however, there was something more than sound. The fern and the\ntrees, the brambles and the leaves, all seemed to be suddenly agitated\nas if by the wind swaying gently through them, though there was not a\nbreath of wind in the air.\n\nThere was one universal rustling all round, and the next moment Evelyn\n(for that was the little girl's name) saw that she was standing in the\nmiddle of a crowd of living, moving, active beings, who looked out upon\nher from every corner of the place. Every leaf seemed tenanted by one\nof them; each stem of fern appeared to afford cover, every thicket to\ngive protection to a small creature: they were perched on the trees\nabove her head, and peeped out from the tufts of moss almost beneath\nher feet. Bright restless eyes seemed to peer eagerly out upon her on\nall sides, and in an instant she knew that her long-cherished hopes and\ndreams were at last realized, and that she was in the presence of\nundeniable fairies.\n\nAlthough Evelyn had read so many fairy tales, and had so often fancied\nherself in the position she now was, and settled what she ought to do\nand say in such case, it must be confessed that when the reality came\nthus suddenly upon her, she was as much at a loss as if she had never\nread or thought anything at all about the subject.\n\nShe stood still and stared with eyes wide open with astonishment, just\nas any child would naturally do under similar circumstances. The little\nbeings about her had nothing in their appearance or demeanour at all\nlikely to frighten her. They were neither ugly in feature, deformed in\nfigure, or evil in the expression of their faces. On the contrary they\nwere graceful, beautiful, and looked remarkably good-natured. Very\nlittle they certainly were, for none of them could have been above a\nfoot high, and very numerous also, for, turn her head which way she\nwould, the whole place seemed alive with them.\n\nEvelyn stood, as I have said, perfectly silent, and looked about her as\nif struck dumb with surprise at the unlooked-for appearance of the\nlittle creatures. She had not long to wait before one of them hopped\nlightly from the stem of a venerable hornbeam hard by, and stood\nimmediately in front of her.\n\nIt was a charming little figure that did this: barely a foot high, but\nof a form perfectly symmetrical, a face bright with exceeding beauty,\nand with an air of nobility conspicuous in its features, and, indeed,\nin its whole bearing. It was dressed in some light drapery, which\nfloated around it in such a manner as to add to instead of concealing,\nthe beauty of its faultless form, and, as it stood erect before Evelyn,\nshe thought she had never seen anything so exquisitely beautiful in the\nwhole course of her existence.\n\n[Illustration: EVELYN AND THE FAIRIES.--P. 122]\n\nThe little being regarded her for one moment in silence, and then it\nspoke. Spoke! it was hardly like speaking: the voice that came from its\nthroat was a mixture of all the most delightful sounds that ever\nrejoiced the human ear. Think of the soothing, contented hum of the\nbees in the early summer, when they are sipping the sweetest honey from\ntheir favourite flowers; think of the softest murmuring of the\nsea-waves when they gently break upon the shore, and lovingly kiss the\nrocks against which, in their hours of anger, they dash so madly; think\nagain, of the blessed sound of distant church bells heard across the\nwater as you stand listening upon a silent summer's eve; think of the\nwarbling of the tender nightingale in the old shrubbery, full of home\nmemories; and think, more than all, of the loving words whispered for\nthe first time in the happy ears of the gentle maiden; think, I say, of\nall these sounds, and of the music they possess, and you will be able\nto form some idea of the melody which sounded in the fairy's voice.\n\nShe spoke in poetry, of course, by which Evelyn was more than ever\nconvinced that she was a regular, proper fairy, because poetry is the\nnatural language of such people, and no fairy, who is at all equal to\nthe position she aspires to hold, ever begins a conversation with a\nmortal in prose. Of course they get to it, after a bit, because too\nmuch rhyme bores people, and fairies never do _that_, because there\nare so many people in the world who can and do perform that feat to\nperfection, and fairies only care to do that which human beings cannot\naccomplish so easily of themselves. And thus ran the speech of the\nfairy, since such she was beyond all reasonable doubt.\n\n    \"Welcome, gentle maiden child,\n    To the forest grand and wild:\n    Welcome to the lofty trees\n    Gently waving in the breeze:\n    Welcome to the leafy shade,\n    By their spreading branches made:\n    Welcome to the mossy bed,\n    'Neath their shadows overhead:\n    Welcome to each grassy mound\n    In the open spaces found,\n    And to every flower that springs\n    Near the mighty forest kings.\n    Thou hast wandered here full oft,\n    Never at the fairies scoft,\n    But hast aye essayed to learn\n    From the lovely maiden-fern,\n    From the honeysuckle sweet,\n    From the dew-drops 'neath thy feet,\n    Lessons of the fairy race\n    Not for mortal ken to trace.\n    But to maid of gentle mind\n    Fairy elves are ever kind;\n    If she love them, they can prove\n    (Giving fondly love for love)\n    How their might can work to aid\n    Manly youth or gentle maid.\n    Say, then, maiden, would'st thou seek\n    Knowledge which an elf may speak?\n    Would'st thou (such I scarce suppose)\n    Fairy succour 'gainst thy foes?\n    Would'st thou have another's heart\n    Made thine own by magic art?\n    Would'st thou wealth--or, better still,\n    Freedom from some mortal ill?\n    Speak thy wish, then, maiden dear:\n    Speak it low and speak it clear.\"\n\nEvelyn listened with amazement not unmixed with pleasure. Pleasure it\ncertainly was to find herself at last in the presence of a real live\nfairy, and amazement she undoubtedly felt both at the sight before her,\nand at the speech to which she had just listened. She was perfectly\naware that her reply ought to be given in verse, and the difficulty was\nthat she was particularly stupid at making rhymes. She was one of those\nchildren who always tried to beg off if any of those amusing games was\nproposed in the evenings at home, in which either everybody has to make\nfour rhymes or more on a certain given subject, generally answering a\nquestion and introducing some noun which has nothing to do with it, or\nelse four rhymes are given out, and everybody has to write the previous\npart of the four lines in any metre they please.\n\nEvelyn, I say, always either begged to be excused playing, or else\nnestled up close to her father (who was rather handy at that kind of\nthing), and asked him to write her lines quietly for her, which he\nunfortunately was in the habit of doing--unfortunately, because the\nconsequence was that at the present momentous crisis, the poor child\ncould not by any means think what to say. One reason, perhaps, was that\nshe had nothing particular for which she wished to ask the fairies,\nbut, whatever the reason, no rhyme _would_ come to her mind.\n\nAll she could think of was an occasional line of some of Dr. Watts's\nhymns, which did not seem to have anything at all to do with fairies,\nand one or two old pieces of poetry which she had heard long ago in the\nschool-room and which kept coming into her head now, and probably\nkeeping out something which might have answered her purpose much\nbetter.\n\nThe fairy waited for a few seconds without impatience, but as no answer\nappeared to be forthcoming, she stamped her foot upon the ground, and\nappeared visibly annoyed. Conscious that she was hardly acting either a\nwise or dignified part in remaining silent, Evelyn now made a great\neffort to remember or to invent something that might be suitable to the\noccasion, and as the fairy stamped her foot a second time, somewhat\nimpatiently, she hastily blurted out:--\n\n    \"Let dogs delight to bark and bite--\n    I don't know how to answer right;\"\n\nand then stood blushing and trembling just as if she had certainly\nanswered _wrong_. Upon this the fairy gave vent to a low, musical\nlaugh, like the last notes of a _very_ good musical box, and then once\nmore accosted the child as follows:\n\n    \"When fairies speak in kindly mood,\n    To answer nothing back were rude;\n    Yet need you never rack your brain\n    To answer me in rhyme again.\n    Though verse be sweet to us, forsooth,\n    Prose, if it comes of simple truth,\n    From child-like lips and guileless tongue,\n    May pass with elves as well as song.\n    But say, fair child, for what intent,\n    With spirit young and innocent,\n    Untainted with the world's cold touch;\n    (Ah! would that we might keep thee such!)\n    Unfettered yet by Fashion's chain,\n    Untouched by pride or high disdain,\n    As yet unvisited by cares\n    Which fate for mortal life prepares,\n    Why hast thou left the haunts of men\n    To seek the lonely fairy glen?\"\n\nWhilst the fairy was speaking, Evelyn gathered together her ideas, and\nresolved to show that she not only had something to say, but knew how\nto say it. So as soon as the speaker had concluded, she replied,\nkeeping still to rhyme, as if determined not to appear more stupid than\nshe really was,\n\n    \"How doth the little busy bee\n      Improve each shining hour--\n    For years and years I've longed to see\n      A fairy's woodland bower.\n\n    How skilfully she builds her cell,\n      How neat she spreads the wax--\n    Since, now, dear elves, I've seen you well,\n      My spirit nothing lacks.\"\n\nAs soon as Evelyn had got through these verses, which she did with some\nlittle pride, she was rather surprised and even annoyed to find that\ntheir only effect was to cause all the little beings around her to\nindulge in a hearty fit of laughter. Their musical sounds rang through\nthe forest, and the echo faintly returned them, whilst the child stood\nlistening and wondering at the result of her attempt. Then the fairy\nqueen, for such Evelyn thought she must be, spoke once again:--\n\n    \"If nothing lack'st thou, mortal child,\n    Why wander through the forest wild\n    And seek, with meditative air,\n    The beings who inhabit there?\n    Since hither thou hast found thy way,\n    Be satisfied awhile to stay:\n    For those who have not been afraid\n    To trespass on the fairy glade,\n    And long, with curious mortal eye,\n    Our elfin mysteries to spy,\n    When once they know where fairies hide,\n    Most there be ready to abide.\"\n\nAs Evelyn heard these words, a cold chill ran through her veins, for\nthey betokened to her that something was going to happen upon which she\nhad never calculated. In an instant her thoughts flew back to the many\ninstances of which she had read in fairy tales, of children being\nchanged into dogs, cats, birds, toads, or something which no sensible\nchild has the least wish to become; and the terrible fear arose that\nshe was about to become the victim of some such unpleasant\ntransformation. On second thoughts, however, she remembered that in\nmost of these cases the child concerned had either been naughty and\ndisagreeable at home, or disbelieving in or impertinent to the fairies,\nand had therefore deserved punishment. In her own case, she had done\nnothing recently at home more naughty than accidentally dropping some\nmarmalade on her clean frock at breakfast, and had entertained such\nfull and constant belief and respect in and for the fairies, that she\nwas quite sure she deserved no punishment at their hands. Besides, the\nvoice of the queen (if such she was), and the looks and gestures of her\ncompanions, had displayed neither anger nor offence at her intrusion\ninto their glen, and she could not believe that any harm was intended\nto her. All these thoughts passed through the child's mind much faster\nthan I can write them, and although she stood there in uncertainty and\ndoubt, her momentary fear was gone directly. She was not prepared,\nhowever, for what followed.\n\nThe fairy queen waved a sprig of fern three times over her head,\nadvancing nearer and nearer to Evelyn as she did so. At each wave of\nthe hand, the child felt herself growing downwards and becoming smaller\nand smaller. Yes! there really was no doubt about it; down and down she\ngrew, until the horrible thought crossed her mind that she might grow\nright down into the earth, and disappear altogether.\n\nAt the same time a strange drowsiness stole over her, everything\nappeared to grow less and less distinct, and gradually to fade quite\naway from sight; sounds grew fainter and fainter, and she seemed to be\nabout to sink into a deep, fast, heavy sleep. Then, all of a sudden,\nshe was as wide awake as ever again, and looked up, bright and lively,\ntrying to remember where she was, and what had happened to her. There\nwas very little doubt about _that_. She was a regular fairy like the\nrest of them. She was of the same height; she had the same kind of\nlight dress (though what it was made of, she could never describe,\nalthough she was very often questioned on the subject,) and she felt\nsuch an extraordinary sensation of lightness and elasticity as quite\nsurprised her. She knew in a moment that she could move about in a\nmanner which had been quite impossible to her as a mortal child: that\nshe could stand upon branches and plants and tufts of fern without\ncausing them to bend or break, that she could tread upon the leaves and\nsoft moss without leaving the impression of her tiny feet, and that she\npossessed new powers, new knowledge, and a new being altogether.\n\nBut more wonderful still, was the transformation which everything\naround her seemed to have undergone. The trees, the leaves, the fern,\nthe moss--all appeared ten times as beautiful as they were before. The\ndewdrops that glistened upon the grass and fern sparkled with\ntwenty-fold brilliancy; the green of the leaves was by far more tender\nand exquisite than before her change; the mighty trunks of the old\ntrees were more majestic than ever, the whole glen was enriched with\ngreater beauties, and the notes of the woodland birds possessed more\nmelody than she had ever fancied in her old, childish wanderings\nthrough the forest.\n\nIt was as if all these beauties had been but imperfectly seen, and only\nfeebly appreciated by the child of mortals, whose natural perceptions\nhad been blunted by the sin and sorrow of her kind; but, that the\nmoment the earthly nature and form had been shaken off, a purer and\nmore intellectual state of being had brought with it the power to see,\nto know, and to appreciate in a higher degree the beauties of nature\nand of nature's God. Never had Evelyn experienced such a delicious\nsensation of entire pleasure as at that moment.\n\nCuriously enough, no recollections of home, of parents, of relations,\ncame across her; all seemed blotted out for the moment as if they had\nnever existed. She only felt the intense pleasure of her present\nexistence--a pleasure so pure and at the same time so utterly absorbing\nand engrossing that it seemed to leave room for no other thought or\nsensation, and the child stood as one in a trance--but a trance\nexquisitely delightful!\n\nPresently the fairy queen turned aside, apparently about to occupy\nherself with other matters, and having no more to say to Evelyn. The\nlatter, however, was not neglected. Two of the other fairies took her,\neach by one hand, and led her under the great spreading trees, beneath\nwhose branches was a wide open space, where there was room enough for\nhundreds of such small creatures to sport and play. There they began to\ndance, lightly and gracefully, first joining hand in hand, then\nseparating and dancing the most curious figures you can imagine, in and\nout of the hollow of the tree under which they were, round its trunk\nand its roots, and now and then catching hold of the lower branches and\nswinging themselves up. Such a dance it was! And the most extraordinary\nthing was that it all seemed to come quite as natural to Evelyn as if\nshe had been at it all her life. She danced and skipped and swung in\nthe branches with the best of them, and had not the slightest feeling\nof fatigue after the exertion. She felt, moreover, a lightness and\nbuoyancy of spirit such as she had never felt before, and as to being\nshy or bashful in the presence of strangers, she experienced no such\nsensation for a single moment. On the contrary, she laughed and talked\nwith the little elves as happily and merrily as if she had known them\nfrom her cradle, and there was no difficulty about learning their\nlanguage, for they all spoke English as well as any English child could\nhave done. Perhaps they _were_ English children, which would in some\nmeasure account for it. However that may be, Evelyn never had a\ncheerier or more enjoyable dance than this one, and she thoroughly\nentered into it.\n\nPresently they took to climbing. Up the trees they swarmed, ran out on\nthe branches, and balanced themselves on the ends (roaring with\nlaughter when one or other of them lost his balance and had a fall,\nwhich he always broke by cleverly catching hold of the next branch\nbelow), pelted each other with leaves, and chased one another wildly\nthrough the tops of the trees. Then they played at hide-and-seek in and\naround the trees. One hid in a rabbit-hole under the roots, another in\na crevice on the top of one of the hornbeam pollards, and great was the\nlaughter when one little scamp crept into an old magpie's nest, and lay\nhidden there for several minutes before he was found. But perhaps the\nbest fun of all was when they chased a squirrel, who was thoroughly\npuzzled by the proceeding, and caused them immense merriment by his\nchattering, as well as by his various dodges to elude his pursuers.\nSometimes he would climb to the very tops of the highest trees, and\nappear astonished beyond measure when the little elves followed him so\nhigh; then, again, he would throw himself off, and catch a branch in\nfalling, as quickly and as cleverly as if he had been himself a fairy.\nOnce more he would lie pressed up so close against the thick branch of\na tree, that he would appear to be a part of the tree himself; and then\nhe would betake himself to his nest, and occasionally peer out with\nhis sparkling little eyes, as if to ascertain whether anyone would be\ndaring enough to follow him _there_. But the fairies never attempted to\nhurt him, and Evelyn soon found that these woodland fairies were not of\na sort which at all enjoyed making other people unhappy. _She_ was\ncertainly anything but unhappy, and enjoyed her afternoon amazingly.\nNevertheless, as all things come to an end, so at last did these fairy\ngambols.\n\nSuddenly there sounded through the forest a low, sweet, but thrilling\nwhistle, like an unusually melodious railway whistle heard at a long\ndistance off in a still evening. Every elf knew it at once to be the\nqueen's signal, and accordingly they all hurried back to the spot where\nEvelyn had first seen them, from which they had been wandering right\nand left through the merry green wood in their sports. The queen\ngraciously smiled as her obedient children flocked around her, and\nproceeded to give them her directions for the employment of their\nevening.\n\n\"Sprightly,\" said she, addressing one little fellow, whom Evelyn had\nobserved to be particularly lively in the dancing and other games, \"go\nyou, with a couple more of your friends, to old Farmer Grubbins. He was\nvery cross this morning to two poor boys who picked a couple of apples\nfrom one of his trees which overhung the footpath, and is going to take\nthem before the magistrates to-morrow morning. He goes to bed early and\nwill be asleep before nine. But you need not wait for _that_, for he is\nsure to doze heavily in his arm-chair after supper. Go and plague him\nwell. Pinch his toe till he thinks it is gout; whisper to him that the\nrats are in his barn, and that a man with a lucifer matchbox has been\nseen in his rick-yard. And if _that_ neither keeps him from sleep nor\ngives him uncomfortable dreams, tell him that wheat is down in the\nmarket ten shillings a quarter, American beef is coming into this\ncountry in such quantities, that homefed beef will never sell well\nagain, and all his rates and taxes are going to be doubled directly.\nGive him a real bad night of it, and when he is lying awake, thoroughly\nuncomfortable, whisper to him a few words in favour of the poor lads in\nany way you think most likely to be useful.\n\n\"Mirthful, do you go off to poor old Mrs. Marshall at Nettlebush\nCottage. She is down with the rheumatism, very bad, and in a good deal\nof pain. Cheer the old dame up a bit, whisper all kinds of pleasant\nthings in her ear, gently rub her poor aching limbs, and keep the dust\nquiet so that her room may be kept cheerful and clean. Sweeten the\ntaste of what food she has, and do what you can to lighten the time to\nher.\n\n\"Flittermouse, Childerkin, Gadaway, go to Doctor Backbrusher's school,\nand comfort the hearts of the youngsters there. The old fellow has\nflogged a lot of them as usual to-day. Go and cheer them up; and if you\n_could_ put a few crumbs--good, hard, sleep-stopping crumbs--into the\ndoctor's bed, so much the better. Do it just when he has put his candle\nout, and is going to step into bed, and one of you take away the box of\nmatches he always has by his bedside, and hide it in his brown pitcher.\nHe'll never find it there, and if he is once well in bed with those\ncrumbs, he'll have a rough time of it.\n\n\"You, Pitiful and Hoverer, go to little Miss Wilson's room at The\nPriory, and teach her to remember her French verbs. Poor child! they\nare sadly too much for her, and it would be a real kindness to get rid\nof the grammar for her, only they would be sure to get another; so the\nbetter way will be to help her to remember.\n\n\"The rest of you go where you like; sleep or play, visit mortals, or\nremain unseen by them, only do nothing unkind to anyone, and be sure to\nbe back here precisely at midnight for the ring dance.\"\n\nAs soon as the fairy queen had finished speaking, the little elves to\nwhom she had given special directions set off without any delay to obey\nher orders, while the rest scattered themselves in every direction\nthrough the forest, each following the pursuit which seemed best to\nhim.\n\nAs Evelyn felt herself not only at liberty to go where she pleased, but\nable to keep up with any of her companions and to go where they went\nand do as they did, she thought she should very much like to see how\nSprightly performed the commission entrusted to him, and as the elf\nmade no objection, off they tripped together, accompanied by another\nlittle being whose name I forget, but who was as lively and merry as\nthe rest of them. They went at a pace at which our young friend Evelyn\nhad never gone before, but which somehow or other seemed quite natural\nto her, and which very speedily brought them to the house of Farmer\nGrubbins.\n\nArrived there, they walked quietly up to the door, which opened to them\nwithout any of the people inside knowing that it had done so, although\nthe fact of its having opened was proved to Evelyn not only by her\npassing through with the others, but by the remark which she heard the\nold farmer make as she and her companions entered, namely, that there\nwas a terrible draught from that door.\n\nThe farmer was an old bachelor, and there was no one in the house with\nhim but his niece and the servants. He and his niece were just\nfinishing supper when the fairies entered, and on seeing this Sprightly\nwinked knowingly at his companions, and they all stood quietly aside\nuntil the old man should be asleep and their duties would begin.\n\nThey had not long to wait. Farmer Grubbins pushed back his chair with a\nremark to his niece upon the supper, to the effect that the beefsteak\npie had been uncommon good, to which she readily assented. The old man\nthen settled himself in his own particular arm-chair by the fireside,\ndrew a long breath, and quietly composed himself to sleep. In a very\nfew moments, after a contented snort or two, much after the fashion of\na grampus which found itself more than commonly comfortable, he quietly\ndozed off and was immediately in the land of dreams.\n\nThen Evelyn's companions crept stealthily up to him and began their\ngames. One climbed up on to the old man's shoulder, whilst the other\nseated himself upon the footstool upon which his feet rested, well\nencased in large and easy slippers. The first began to whisper in his\near, while the second tickled his feet with a lightness of touch which\nno one but a fairy could have done. Presently the sleeper suddenly\ntwitched his foot, whereupon the elf waited until it was still again;\nand then resumed his tickling. Then the farmer moaned in his sleep, and\nuneasily turned his head upon one side, at which movement the other elf\nbegan to whisper more vigorously than ever. A snort, a start, and the\nsleeper awoke.\n\n\"Eh, Jane? Did you speak?\" he asked his niece, who replied in a low\nvoice that she had said nothing, and almost before she had answered,\nhis head fell back again and once more he dozed. Still the tickling and\nthe whispering continued, and the sleep of the old farmer appeared to\nbe most uncomfortable.\n\nEvelyn watched in great amusement, until at last she saw Sprightly, who\nhad taken his place at the footstool, take out what appeared to be a\npair of pincers, and, applying them to the great toe of the farmer's\nright foot, give it a nip with all his force. The old man instantly\nwoke up with a roar.\n\n\"Oh, my toe!\" he called out in evident pain. \"Drat that gout, I've got\nit again!\" and he began to groan sadly.\n\nHis niece got up, put her knitting down upon the table and came across\nthe room to him, but after another groan or two, the pain seemed to\nsubside, and he dozed off again. Presently he started once more and\nturned in his chair.\n\n\"Rats in the barn, did you say, Jane?\" he muttered rather than said;\n\"can't be--don't bother--keep quiet, there's a good girl,\" and all was\nsilent again for a few moments, until Sprightly, again producing the\npincers and applying them to the same toe, pressed them with both hands\nas hard as ever he could. The roar which now burst from the farmer's\nlips really frightened Evelyn, who fancied for the moment that he\n_must_ discover that some hand, mortal or elfin, had inflicted the\ninjury upon him.\n\nNot a bit of it: the elves were certainly invisible, and the old man\nattributed everything to the gout, and vowed it was the worst pain he\nhad ever had in the whole course of his life.\n\nMeanwhile the two elves were laughing ready to split their sides, and,\nsomehow or other, Evelyn felt very much inclined to do the same. It was\nno laughing matter, however, for Farmer Grubbins. He rose from his\nchair, not in the best of tempers, nor using the choicest language, and\ndeclared that he should go to bed and try if a good night would put\nmatters right with him.\n\nAs he spoke, the two elves roared again with laughter, and made the\nmost extraordinary grimaces at the old man, which seemed to Evelyn all\nthe more ridiculous from the knowledge that he could not see and was\nperfectly unconscious of them.\n\nThen he slowly ascended the stairs, upon which Sprightly and his\ncompanion beckoned to Evelyn, and they all followed the farmer,\ntreading very lightly, and still laughing as he muttered expressions by\nno means complimentary to the gout.\n\nWhen he reached his bedroom he speedily undressed and turned into bed,\nhaving first carefully placed upon his head an old red night-cap, in\nwhich he presented an appearance so ludicrous as greatly to increase\nthe amusement of his unseen guests. His niece just looked in, and asked\nif he wanted anything, and being told that she need not trouble herself\nabout him, quickly took the hint, and retired for the night.\n\nThen began the real fun of the little fairies. As soon as the old man\nhad made himself comfortable, and a drowsy comfortable feeling began to\nsteal over him, they were at him again. First one of them tickled his\nnostrils with a feather until he was obliged to rub his nose violently,\nwhich woke him up at the critical moment when he was just about to go\noff into a quiet sleep. Then the same thing happened to his right ear;\nthen it was his left, and then his nostrils again. Then they left him\nalone for a few moments until he was really just asleep, when Sprightly\nsaid in his ear, quite close, and in a voice that was almost above a\nwhisper,\n\n\"That man has lighted the match--close to the stacks in the rick-yard.\nFire!\"\n\nThe old man started up as if he had been shot.\n\n\"Fire!\" he cried out; \"what the dickens was that? Who said fire?\"\n\nHe sat up in his bed and listened, and then he grumbled to himself\nabout the folly of eating dumplings for supper after beefsteak-pudding,\nand how it always made one dream such nonsense, and then back he sank\nupon his pillow, grumbling still until he gradually dropped off again.\nThen, softly uncovering his feet, the cruel Sprightly, before this\nsleep had lasted more than a minute, gave him a sharp and severe nip on\nthe same toe as before, and again the unhappy man woke with a yell, or\nrather bellow, of pain, and said bitter words against that gout to\nwhich he firmly believed himself to be the victim. The pain kept him\nawake some minutes, but at last he dozed off again, and then came more\ntickling and whispering, so that he could by no possibility get any\nreal or prolonged repose.\n\nAt last there was a long and careful whisper on the part of Sprightly's\ncompanion, during which the farmer did not indeed awake but turned over\nagain and again, first on one side and then on the other, muttering to\nhimself meanwhile:\n\n\"Wheat down again! Ruin--ruin--ruin! Markets awful bad;\" and presently\nagain he groaned out in his sleep, \"Drat them Yankees and their beef!\"\nall of which remarks, distinctly heard by Evelyn as she stood on a\nchair by the bedside, told her plainly enough that the little elves\nwere fulfilling the commands of their queen with great and precise\nexactness. Still the old man dozed and woke, and woke and dozed, and\never and anon turned uneasily in his bed, as if passing a decidedly\nuncomfortable time of it, until at last, after another tremendous nip\nfrom Sprightly's pincers, he quite woke up and groaned audibly.\n\nAt that moment, to her great surprise (for there seemed no possibility\nof his thinking it a dream _then_) Sprightly and his companion seated\nthemselves one on each side of the old man's head, and began to wave\ntheir hands gently over his eyes. He appeared to see nothing, and to be\nquite ignorant of what they were doing, or indeed that there was any\none there, and presently he closed his eyes, though he did not breathe\nheavily, or snore, or give any palpable sign of being asleep.\n\nBoth the little elves now began to whisper eagerly in his ears, and\nEvelyn quite plainly heard the words, \"poor boys!\" \"only a couple of\napples,\" \"honest parents,\" \"no such great offence after all,\" and\nvarious other expressions calculated to appease the wrath of the old\nfarmer against the culprits of whom the fairy queen had spoken. The old\nman soon began to mutter again, and from what he said it was evident to\nEvelyn that the words of the whisperers were not without their effect.\nPresently he seemed to be quite awake.\n\n\"Curious that I should dream about them lads,\" he said. \"I hope the\npoor chaps haven't had such a bad night as I seem in for. Maybe they\ndidn't know they was doing so wrong. I've took apples myself, before\nnow, when I hadn't ought to have done so. I don't know as I'll go\nagainst them after all! Dash me if I will, either!\"\n\nScarcely were the words out of his mouth when the faces of both the\nelves lighted up with the brightness of conscious triumph; they knew\nthat their queen's commands had been obeyed, and her desire\naccomplished, and they lost no time in their next proceeding.\nAbandoning at once their previous endeavours at whispering, tickling,\nand tormenting, they made sundry passes over the old man's face, which\nhad the effect of immediately plunging him into a profound sleep. Twice\nhe snored heavily, but this time it was not the snore of restlessness\nor disgust, but the contented sound of a peaceful and happy sleeper.\n\nAt this moment the three-quarters past eleven sounded on the chimes of\nthe neighbouring church clock. The little elves instantly started up,\nwhispered to Evelyn that the queen would be shortly expecting them, and\nbeckoning the little girl to follow them, crept quietly and stealthily\nfrom the farmer's bedroom, descended the stairs, and passing through\nthe front door in the same manner by which they had entered it, hastily\nsped back to the forest.\n\nIn the glade they found the queen, standing among a group of elves who\nwere positively convulsed with merriment. They were listening to the\naccount which Flittermouse, Childerkin, and Gadaway were giving of the\nvisit to Dr. Backbrusher, which they had lately paid, and from which\nthey had but just returned, and they seemed to have given the worthy\ndoctor rather a rough time of it, having bothered him with hard crumbs\nin his bed until he had lost all patience, and bounced out of bed for a\nlight, in searching for which he had tumbled into his bath, and been\nmade thoroughly uncomfortable for the night.\n\nWhether this proceeding on the part of the elves was calculated to make\nthe doctor more tender of his pupils' feelings was a question which\nEvelyn found herself unable to solve, but she hoped for the best when\nshe heard the fairy queen, after expressing her entire approval of what\nhad been done, publicly declare her intention of persevering, and\ngiving orders that Dr. Backbrusher should be persistently and\nthoroughly plagued every night until he had been brought to a kinder\nand more satisfactory frame of mind.\n\nWhen the fairies had laughed enough at the account of the\nschoolmaster's disasters, the queen asked the others to relate how they\nhad fulfilled their several missions, and expressed herself very well\nsatisfied with the manner in which her wishes with regard to Farmer\nGrubbins had been carried out. Nor was she less pleased with the\nconduct of the elves who had been sent upon errands of a more\nemphatically benevolent nature.\n\nTears stood in Evelyn's eyes as she heard little Mirthful relate the\ngratitude of the poor old woman whom she had been sent to comfort. To\nbe sure, she had not exactly known whom to thank, having seen no one,\nbut for all that she had shown a thankful disposition, and such a\ncheerful determination to look at the bright side of a life that seemed\ndark enough, poor thing! and to make the best of everything, come what\nmight, that Evelyn felt quite touched at the narrative. She felt\nsincere sympathy, too, for and with little Miss Wilson, whom Pitiful\nand Hoverer had vastly assisted with her French verbs. They told of all\nher trouble in learning, and how, by their secret help, she had\nsuddenly found herself able to remember, and had been quite astonished\nat finding that she could learn with such unusual and unexpected ease.\nShe had not the least idea, they said, that she was being helped by\nfairies, and of course it was the best thing in the world for her to be\nthus deceived, because having once overcome her difficulties, as she\nthought, by her own patience and determination, she would always in\nfuture employ the same weapons, and that with an additional confidence\nwhich would go far to insure success.\n\nFrom all these accounts Evelyn learned that which she had always hoped\nand believed to be true, namely, that it is the pleasure of good\nfairies--such as those who principally inhabit forest glades and\nmountain wilds--to help and comfort mortals who require it, and\nespecially such mortals as love to help and comfort others, and have\ntender feeling hearts within their breasts. She could not but feel,\nmoreover, that those mortals whom the elves delighted to plague and\ntorment were generally, if not always, people who richly deserved it,\nand who were not over-scrupulous about hurting the feelings of their\nfellow-mortals.\n\nThus it appeared to Evelyn that the elfin race performed most useful\nfunctions, and were deserving to the utmost of the affection and\nrespect which she had ever bestowed upon them.\n\nWhile these thoughts passed through the child's mind, the messenger\nelves had all finished their accounts of their doings, and the queen\nnow waved her hand solemnly, upon which they parted right and left, and\nshe remained standing alone. Then she spoke thus:\n\n    \"Midnight hour has struck again,\n    One more day is with the slain:\n    One more morn will soon be here,\n    Heralded by chanticleer.\n    While as yet 'tis sacred night,\n    Practise we the mystic rite:--\n    Hand-in-hand join, light and free,\n    All beneath the woodland tree;\n    Softly o'er the leafy bed\n    In fantastic measure tread,\n    Soon to mortal eyes to bring\n    Traces of the fairy ring.\"\n\nWhen she had thus spoken, the queen stepped forward, and taking the\nhand of another elf in each of her own, paused one moment until all the\nothers had followed her example, and then began the dance. They\ncompletely encircled one of the large oaks, and for some time danced\nround and round it with great solemnity, singing sweetly as they did\nso. Evelyn found herself irresistibly compelled to join both in the\ndance and song, but it was ever after a matter of regret to her that\nshe could not recollect the words of the latter, which she remembered\nto have been full of beauty and most melodious.\n\nAfter a time they separated, and, gaily dancing upon one side, came out\ninto an open space where was luxuriant grass, a perfect carpet of\ndaisies and buttercups being beneath their feet. Here the class formed\nthemselves once more into a circle, and danced round and round as if\nthey were never going to stop. Again they sang, words as pleasant and\nmusic as sweet as before, but again Evelyn found herself entirely\nunable to recollect the air or the words afterwards.\n\nAt last, whilst they were still dancing, a faint, very faint streak of\nlight began to glimmer in the sky, and to lessen the darkness of the\nnight. Soon after, even as they danced, the note of a robin broke upon\ntheir ears: the earliest songster of the wood, waking up at the first\ndawn of light, and carolling forth his morning hymn before setting out\nto search for his breakfast.\n\nScarcely had the sound been heard when the fairy queen let fall the\nhand of her companion elf, and waved her own in the air. Every one of\nher attendants immediately and exactly followed her example, and Evelyn\nnaturally did the same as the rest. Then they turned without another\nword or sound, and scampered away as fast as they could go into the\nthickest part of their favourite glade. Evelyn unhesitatingly went with\nthem, having in fact nothing else to do, and she followed the example\nof her companions by crouching underneath the fern at the foot of one\nof the trees which grew around the glade, and hiding herself as well as\nshe could from the gaze of any possible passer-by.\n\nAll this time, in everything that she did, there seemed to be nothing\nat all strange, or out of the common way. She felt just as if she had\nbeen a fairy all her life, and took everything just as it came with the\nmost perfect unconcern. She thought not of her parents, her home or the\npursuits which had daily occupied her whilst she was an ordinary mortal\nchild. All these had passed away from her mind altogether. There was\nonly an intense feeling of present happiness and light-heartedness, and\nnot only no wish to return to her former state, but an entire\nforgetfulness that she had ever been anything else than that which she\nnow felt herself to be--a subject of the Fairy Queen, and a woodland\nfairy herself to all intents and purposes.\n\nIt has often been disputed, by those learned in the history of elves\nand Elf-land, whether the little creatures ever sleep, or whether, like\nspirits, they seek and require no rest, but wander over the world at\nwill without sense of fatigue.\n\nEvelyn's experience may furnish an answer to the curious inquirer upon\nthis point. She slept; and slept soundly, and always explained the\nmatter in a perfectly intelligible manner. It is not, she said, that\nfairies are ever really tired: there are different degrees and various\nkinds of fairies, possessing greater or less power in relation to the\nearth and to mortal affairs, in accordance with their own rank and\nposition in the great fairy family. But there is no fairy, except some\nof the very inferior description, who cannot perform almost any given\nfeat of strength if required to do so; and no fairy, properly so\ncalled, was ever actually tired in the sense that mortal beings feel\nfatigue.\n\nBut that fairies sleep is absolutely certain, and there are two reasons\nfor their doing so. In the first place, their power is much greater by\nnight than by day, and many of them have the greatest objection to the\nsunlight, though to some few it is little less pleasant than to human\nbeings. This being the case, they find it on all accounts desirable to\nseek shelter from the rays of the sun during the day, and do not see\nthe use, when doing this, of keeping their eyes open when it is more\ncomfortable to close them. And their other reason is also extremely\nsensible, namely, that they have an opinion that it is monotonous and\ntedious to be always running about, sporting, playing, or interfering\nwith the business of mankind, and that by taking some few hours' rest\nin every twenty-four hours, they come again with greater zest to their\nordinary pursuits, and enjoy themselves a great deal more than they\nwould do if they never left off.\n\nThis was always Evelyn's theory, and having been, as we know, a fairy\nherself, I have no reason to doubt that it is the correct one. Be this\nas it may, it is quite certain that, upon the occasion in question,\nboth Evelyn and her companions slept sweetly and quietly, couched under\nthe grass and plants beneath the fern, and sheltered from the rays and\nwarmth of the sun by the overhanging branches of the great forest\ntrees.\n\nBut yet the sleep of fairies is not such but that they awake, readily\nand easily enough, if it is necessary that they should be stirring. To\nbelieve Evelyn, the voice of a man, or even the passing footstep of an\nanimal pushing its way through the brushwood, was always quite enough\nto arouse the whole elfin world into activity; and, at the first sound\nof the kind, a score or two of little elfin heads might be seen peering\nout from their secret hiding-places, eagerly gazing on every side to\ndiscover who or what might be the intruder.\n\nNo one appeared to disturb this first fairy sleep of our little\nheroine, and she slumbered calmly on with her new companions. Slowly\nthe sun rose over the forest, tinging the leaves with his golden rays,\nand warming all creation into life as he lighted up the world with his\nglorious lamp. Then the sounds in the forest became more and more\nfrequent. From every thicket birds carolled forth their joyous songs;\nthe wood-pigeon softly cooed to her mate in the fir-trees; the jackdaw\ncackled in the old pollard as he looked out from the hole in which his\nnest was built; the jay screamed in his harsh, discordant notes, trying\nto put the blackbirds and thrushes out of tune, and failing signally;\nthe woodpecker began to tap merrily, trying the trees all round till he\nfound one that suited his beak; the squirrels climbed to the top of the\nhighest trees to see what sort of a morning it was, and the still\nsilence of the forest was gradually changed into moving life and\nbustling sound.\n\nMen went out to their daily toil in field and street, in country and\ncity, busy brains schemed and plotted, and the work of the world went\non as it had done the day before, and would do the next day again. And\nthere, beneath the green fern of the forest, the little fairies slept\npeaceably on, and the mortal child that had donned the fairy form slept\non with them, little recking of the busy world, with all its cares and\nwoes, its sin and sorrow, its toilings and strife, which lay beyond and\noutside the forest, and could not disturb or break that sweet sleep.\n\nBut it has probably struck some of my readers that Evelyn's absence\nmust, before this time, have caused some disturbance at her home. So\nindeed it was. She had gone out very soon after luncheon, and when\ntea-time came, Mrs. Trimmer, her governess, began to wonder where she\nwas, and why she had not come back. Perhaps you will think that Mrs.\nTrimmer ought to have begun to wonder rather before, but really I do\nnot think she was much to blame. She had very kindly started off\ndirectly after luncheon to carry some sago-pudding to a sick woman in\nthe village; and as Evelyn's mamma had asked her to do this, and knew\nshe had gone, she naturally supposed that Evelyn would be with her\nmamma, or would at least be somewhere with the latter's knowledge and\npermission. Moreover, since the young lady was now twelve years old,\nand both a sensible and trustworthy child, Mrs. Trimmer would in no\ncase have had any fears for her safety, especially in that peaceful and\nquiet part of the country in which they lived. But when the good lady\nbustled in just before tea-time, ran up and took off her things, and\nthen hurried down to make the tea, lo and behold there was no Evelyn.\nSo she rang the bell for Betsy, the school-room maid, and asked whether\nMiss Evelyn was with her mamma; and on the girl coming back to say she\nwas not, Mrs. Trimmer began to get rather uneasy, and presently went to\nthe boudoir and asked for herself. Evelyn's mamma knew nothing more\nthan that the child had gone out to stroll in the shrubberies after\nluncheon, since which time she had seen nothing of her, and had fancied\nshe was in the school-room.\n\nBeginning to get alarmed, she went to the study in which Evelyn's\nfather was writing his letters for the late post. When he heard what\nwas the matter, he went into the shrubberies and called his daughter's\nname loudly, but of course with no result. Then he sent a footman down\nto enquire at the keeper's house by the forest, and another to the\nstables to order horses to be saddled for himself, the coachman, and\nthe two grooms, and off they set to scour the country in every\ndirection, and make every possible inquiry concerning the lost child.\n\nThe poor mother remained at home in terrible anxiety, fearing she knew\nnot what, but dreading the worst, according to the usual custom of\nmothers under such circumstances.\n\nIt was quite ten o'clock before the horsemen returned, but of course\nthey brought no tidings whatever of the missing young lady, who was,\nabout that time, as we know, amusing herself with Sprightly at the\nhouse of Farmer Grubbins, and thinking nothing at all of what was going\non at home.\n\nThe poor father was much distressed, for he was devoted to his little\ndaughter, and the uncertainty about her fate made the affliction still\nmore hard to bear. He could not imagine what had become of her, and\ntherefore knew not what steps to take for her recovery. He would have\nall the ponds dragged next day, but there were very few in the\nneighbourhood, and none into which a girl of twelve was likely to have\nfallen.\n\nAt one time there used to be a number of gipsies who frequented that\nneighbourhood, and the half frantic mother suggested that some of these\nwild people might have stolen her daughter. Her husband, however,\ndiscouraged the idea, since no gipsies had been seen or heard of for\nsome time past; nor would they have been at all likely to steal a girl\nof Evelyn's age. Had any accident befallen her, or even if the unlikely\nsupposition that she had been stolen, hurt, or killed, had been\ncorrect, it seemed almost impossible but that some trace must have been\nleft--some portion of clothing, some signs of a struggle, some\nsuspicious strangers seen about the place. But no: there was absolutely\nnothing of the kind, and no clue whatever to account for her mysterious\ndeparture.\n\nIt never once entered her parents' heads that their daughter could have\nwillingly left her home: she was always so bright, happy, and\naffectionate; so devoted to the place and to the dear ones who made it\nso pleasant for her. The thought that her absence was voluntary was\nbanished, if it occurred at all to any of the family, before expression\nwas given to it; although its rejection of course made the sorrow still\nheavier, since if she had been taken away by violence, or lost her life\nby some accident, the calamity would really be greater than if she had\nwilfully played the truant.\n\nThe only two things left to be done, were attended to next day; namely,\nthe county police were informed of the matter, and advertisements were\ninserted in the local papers. In both cases the usual results followed.\nThe police arrested two persons who had clearly nothing to do with the\nmatter, and who consequently had to be compensated; and many weeks\nafter the occurrence the same authorities declared that they had known\nall along that no crime had been committed, and that the child would be\nrestored to her parents in due time. Still less followed from the\nnewspaper advertisements; the papers being but little read in the\ncountry districts where Evelyn lived, and having no circulation among\nthe fairies.\n\nSo the next day passed over in darkness and sorrow for the suffering\nparents, who feared that they had lost for ever the child who had been\nso lately the light and comfort of their home.\n\nThere were two beings, however, who felt the loss of Evelyn little less\nthan the father and mother; and these were her brother Philip and his\nblack terrier Pincher.\n\nPhilip was only two years older than Evelyn--in fact, not quite so\nmuch, and they were great companions whenever he was at home for his\nholidays. Whenever he had work to do, to settle down to which he felt\n(as boys sometimes will) disinclined, it was Evelyn who encouraged him\nto face it boldly, and who helped him in any way she could; and if she\nwas in any trouble about French verbs or German exercises, as will\nsometimes happen even to the best disposed young ladies, it was to\nPhilip she always flew for sympathy and consolation. And as there was\ngood fellowship between them in their work, so they loved to play\ntogether whenever they could, and many a time had Evelyn joined her\nbrother in a game of cricket, or rambled with him in his birds-nesting\nexpeditions through the woods.\n\nSometimes these rambles had extended far into the forest where the\nadventures which I have been relating had befallen Evelyn; and during\nthese wanderings she had often talked to her brother upon her favourite\nsubject, and told him strange legends of fairies and goblins, at which\nhe had always laughed heartily.\n\nHe had no great belief in such things himself, he used to say. Perhaps\nhis head was too full of Latin or Greek, or perhaps he had not turned\nhis attention sufficiently to fairy-land stories; but anyhow, he\nlistened to his sister without being convinced by what she said, and\nshe had more than once been rather vexed at his want of faith.\n\nNow it so happened that Philip came home for his summer holidays the\nvery day after his sister's disappearance. Great was his consternation,\nas you may suppose, at finding what had happened, and no less was his\nsorrow at the loss of his favourite companion.\n\nHe arrived in the morning, and was so overcome by the news that he was\nonly able to gulp down two plates full of cold beef, some apple tart\nand custard, a little bread and cheese, and a couple of glasses of\nbeer, at the family luncheon.\n\nAfter this he went out on the lawn, and thought deeply over the\nbusiness; but without being able to arrive at any satisfactory\nconclusion.\n\nWhilst he stood and thought, Pincher came running up to him, and began\nto jump upon him with great manifestations of delight. Philip caressed\nhim, and as he did so, remarked to himself half aloud:\n\n\"Pincher, old boy, why should not you and I have a ramble in the wood?\"\n\nAs he spoke, the thought came into his heart that there was someone\nelse besides Pincher with whom he used to ramble, and a sigh broke\ninvoluntarily from him as he remembered that he had no other companion\nnow than his faithful dog.\n\nHe took a stick in his hand, sauntered over the lawn, through the\nlittle gate at the end of the meadow, and into the big wood away among\nthe trees, where he and Evelyn had so often roamed together.\n\nHe strolled lazily along, and happened, strangely enough, to take the\nvery same line which his sister had taken the day before.\n\nPresently Pincher started a rabbit, and, according to the invariable\npractice of terriers, rushed after it as fast as he could; whilst the\nrabbit, also following the custom of its race, fled before him at the\ntop of its speed, taking the direction straight as a line towards the\nfairy glade.\n\nPhilip gave a shout, and dashed after his dog without hesitation,\nalthough he had no expectation either that he would come up with\nPincher, or Pincher with the rabbit. But before he had gone many yards,\nhe knew, by unfailing evidence, that the chase had come to an end.\nPincher had stopped, probably at the hole into which the rabbit had\nmade its escape, and was no longer yelping as he had continually done\nduring the pursuit, but, as the boy thought most likely, scratching\nfuriously at the hole. Philip pushed his way forward as well as he\ncould, and called to his dog, who presently responded by a bark, the\nsound of which enabled his master to discover where he was. It was near\nthe roots of a large tree, surrounded by fern and brushwood; and\nPincher was running round and round this tree, and then darting off\ninto the fern, and as quickly coming back again, as if something had\npuzzled him completely and he was anxious to have it set right as soon\nas possible.\n\nThe boy stood still for a moment, looked first one way and then\nanother, but could see nothing. Of course the truth was that the\nfairies were there, and Pincher knew it, but had no means of letting\nhis master know, for he did not happen to understand English or French,\nand even in Dog Latin would have made but a poor hand in conversing\nwith human beings. But animals, as is well known, can often see fairies\nand such creatures when they are invisible to human eye; and I suppose\nthat Pincher very likely had not only discovered the elves, but had\nbeen surprised and utterly disconcerted by perceiving that his master's\nsister, his own little friend and kind mistress, was amongst them.\n\nI do not say for certain that he discovered this; but dogs of the\nterrier kind, especially when well-bred as Pincher was, are very keen\nscented, and could probably smell out their master or mistress even if\ndisguised ten times over as a goblin or fairy. So as the dog chanced to\nhave stumbled upon the very spot where the fairies were all sleeping,\nit is only natural to suppose from his behaviour that he not only saw\nthe little creatures, but recognised Evelyn.\n\nThe fairies, for their part, were nearly as much disconcerted as the\ndog, for they had expected no visitor, and had not intended to wake up\nand move for two or three hours more at least. They knew that neither\ndog nor boy could hurt them, of course; but still they were hastily\nroused from their sleep, and I dare say that their movements, running\nto and fro to hide themselves wherever they could, considerably added\nto the confusion of the dog.\n\nPhilip of course saw nothing at all, for it is a very unusual\ncircumstance for fairies to allow themselves to be seen by any one who\nhas not implicit faith in their existence and power. So he called\nPincher to come away, and would presently have quitted the glade\naltogether without ever knowing how close he had been to his lost\nsister. But, for the first and only time in his life, Pincher seemed\ninclined to disobey his master. He ran round the tree again, whined,\nsat up on his hind quarters, chattering his teeth and half howling, as\nif he saw a polecat or stoat or squirrel in the top branches of the old\npollard, and waited to be put up the tree so as to have a chance of\ngetting at it.\n\nPhilip thought that this must certainly be the case, and, changing his\nmind about leaving the place, turned round and again approached the\ntree. As he did so, to his intense astonishment he heard a voice behind\nhim, which certainly, and beyond all doubt, called him by his name. He\nturned sharply round, and to his great surprise could see no one at\nall. At the same time a voice again called him from the other side, and\nwith precisely the same result. This went on for several moments. His\nname seemed to be called at intervals from every side, and wherever he\nturned, the voice or voices were always behind him. Profoundly puzzled,\nand rather vexed by this extraordinary incident, the boy was at a loss\nto know what to do, and at last exclaimed:\n\n\"By Jingo, this is a queer thing!\"\n\nHardly had he uttered these words, when a chorus of laughter burst upon\nhis astonished ears; and to his unutterable astonishment he heard a\nnumber of voices singing, to a tune he well knew, the following words:\n\n    \"We don't want to hide; but by Jingo, if we do,\n    We've got the fern--we've got the trees--\n        We've got the brambles too.\"\n\nAnd again loud laughter ran through the forest, whilst Pincher danced\nround the old pollard more frantically than ever.\n\nPhilip stood rooted to the ground with surprise, when a sound, somewhat\ndifferent from the rest, attracted his attention; and looking round he\nperceived a large white owl attentively regarding him with her eyes\nwide open. As soon as she saw that he was aware of her presence, the\nowl gravely bowed her head three times, and then began to speak in a\nvoice so exactly like that of a human being, that you would not have\nknown the difference, unless you had actually seen her in her feathers,\nand been assured by the evidence of your own eyesight that she was a\nveritable bird. And these were the words that fell upon the ears of her\nastonished listener:--\n\n    \"In every glade of forest lone,\n    Some mystic word of might is known,\n    Which, once pronounced, to mortals' eyes\n    Gives sight they have not otherwise;\n    Gives mortal ears a hearing new\n    Of things much disbelieved--yet true;\n    And suffers mortal hand to trace\n    The circle of the magic space.\n    Boy! list--thou hast obtained this aid.\n    \"By Jingo\"--motto of our glade--\n    Converts all here to friends from foes,\n    And bids all secrets to disclose.\n    Break branch from tree where thou dost stand,\n    'Twill serve thee for a magic wand;\n    Around thee then a circle trace\n    Within this same enchanted place;\n    Then wish a wish, and speak the word--\n    'Tis granted ere thy voice be heard;\n    And thou shall rule like any king\n    Within the sacred Fairy Ring.\"\n\nPhilip listened with great attention to the observations of the owl,\nwhich appeared to him to be exceedingly clear and distinct, although\nthe circumstances under which they were made were singular, and the\nquarter from which they came unexpected. He felt, however, that he was\n\"in for the thing,\" as he afterwards expressed it, and that he had\nbetter comply with the directions of the worthy bird. He therefore\nstretched out his hand and broke off a branch from the nearest tree,\nwhich happened to be hazel. He then sharpened the end of the branch,\nand drew with it a circle, in the midst of which he remained standing.\n\nNow, of course, the correct and proper thing for the boy to have done\nwould have been to have immediately pronounced the magic words; wished\nfor his sister back at the same moment; for her then to have appeared\nand thrown herself into his arms, and for the story to have thus ended\nin a comfortable, good, old-fashioned way, which would have been\neminently satisfactory to all parties concerned. Why should not I make\nthis happen? Well, I really would if I could, but you must remember\nthat all these stories are as true as the histories of \"Don Quixote,\"\n\"Baron Munchausen,\" \"Gulliver's Travels,\" and all those other\nhistories, upon the veracious nature of which no sensible person has\never entertained a doubt. So you will see at once that I cannot, as a\nfair and true historian, invent anything, even for the purpose of\npleasing my beloved readers, but must go on perforce and relate the\nfacts as they really occurred.\n\nPhilip was doubtless very fond of his sister, and if it had been put to\nhim by anyone at the moment that the above course was that which he\nought to pursue, I am sure that he would have done so without the\nslightest hesitation. But as nobody _did_ tell him, and the owl\n(probably because it was not her business to do so) made no such\nsuggestion, I regret to say that, for the instant, Philip followed\nanother line of thought, and when he again pronounced the mystic words,\n\"By Jingo,\" he wished--not that his sister might instantly appear,\nbut--that he might understand what was the nature of the strange place\nin which he seemed to be, and the meaning of all that had occurred. You\nwill see at once that this was rather a different thing from wishing\nfor his sister; and the reason of his not doing so probably was that,\nin the hurry and surprise of the whole affair, he did not connect it\nwith her disappearance. So, as I say, he wished that he might be able\nto understand the mysteries of the place.\n\nAs soon as ever he had formed this wish, the fairies of course became\nvisible to the boy. They came out on all sides, just as they had come\nwhen they had disclosed themselves to Evelyn. They peered from strange\ncorners and holes, they darted quickly from spot to spot, and abandoned\naltogether the rest and sleep from which the coming of the boy had\ndisturbed them.\n\nSoon, however, their proceedings acquired greater regularity. I suppose\nit was in consequence of his standing in the magic ring, or perhaps it\nmight have been by the mere virtue of the mystic words which he had\npronounced; but for some reason or other the fairies had no power over\nhim as they had had over his sister. More than this, they seemed to\nhave been constrained by some one of those mysterious rules which\nobtain in Fairy-land to pay him some kind of respect and homage.\n\nThey linked hand in hand, and whilst Philip looked on in the greatest\nastonishment, they formed in a circle round the space in which he\nstood, and danced merrily round him for at least a couple of minutes.\nThen they stopped, and whilst all the rest fell back into the fern and\nbrushwood behind, the queen remained, and after a short pause,\naddressed the boy as follows:--\n\n    \"Possessor of the magic words\n    Which here control both fays and birds:\n    What would'st thou in this glade to-day,\n    That we can give thee--if we may?\"\n\nNow Philip was not much of a hand at rhyming: to tell the truth, he\ndisliked all poetry particularly, from Dr. Watts' hymns up to the Latin\nverses he had to do at school. For an instant he doubted whether, in\nspite of this, he was not bound to make some reply in rhyme, as well as\nhe could manage it, having been addressed in this manner by the lady\nbefore him. However, on second thoughts, it appeared to him that\nprobably this was needless, as he had accidentally acquired a position\nwhich was evidently one of authority. Therefore he replied in the way\nordinarily employed among mortals, that is, in prose; and, having now\nremembered the main object of his expedition into the wood, he thus\nreplied:--\n\n\"Madam, I want my sister Evelyn. I cannot tell whether or no you can\nhelp me in the matter, but my sister has disappeared and I am looking\nfor her everywhere.\"\n\nThe fairy bowed with grave courtesy when Philip had spoken thus, and\nthen answered him at once,--\n\n    \"Those who invade our magic bower,\n    And hold--and speak--the words of power,\n    Have their first wish--and thou hast prayed\n    To know the nature of the glade.\n    If thou had'st wished thy sister free,\n    It had not been denied to thee;\n    And she no longer might have been\n    The subject of the Fairy Queen.\n    But we small children of the moon\n    Are bound to grant no second boon;\n    And if thou would'st regain the lost,\n    Thou now wilt have to count the cost!\n    Reseek thine home--for one whole day\n    No single word to mortal say:\n    And by no sign or look or sigh\n    Permit them to discover _why_!\n    For that same time be only fed\n    With crystal water and with bread,\n    Then, at the rising of the moon,\n    Come here and ask the second boon!\"\n\nShe spoke; and, even as she ended, her little form appeared to grow\nfainter and less perceptible to Philip's eyes, and at last faded away\naltogether. He stood at first amazed, and then wrapped in deep thought.\nIt was evident, from what the fairy had said, that she not only knew\nwhat had become of Evelyn, but had the power to restore her.\n\nIt seemed a very wonderful thing, but he could not disbelieve the\nevidence of his own senses, which had assured him of the presence of\nfairies; and if they could be present, as he had seen and heard them,\nthey might certainly possess power of which he had previously had no\nidea. There was no doubt in his mind that, if he could only carry out\nthe directions which the Fairy Queen had given, he would stand a very\ngood chance of recovering his sister. It was true that there might be\nsome difficulty in not speaking to anybody for a whole day, especially\nas no one would understand or guess the reason, and there would also be\nrequired a certain amount of self-denial--especially in the case of a\nschoolboy just come home for the holidays--in restricting himself to\nthe homely diet of bread and water. However, then and there he made up\nhis mind to try his best, and all the more so as he could not but feel\nthat he had been somewhat thoughtless and negligent of Evelyn's\ninterests in not having made her the subject of his first wish.\n\nPincher now showed as much eagerness to leave the spot as he had\npreviously evinced to keep to the tree. I forgot to mention that he had\ncrept to his master's side within the magic circle just as the fairies\nappeared. Probably, being a sagacious dog, he knew that if he remained\noutside it, he might be changed into a rat or a hedgehog, or something\nunpleasant, and so made sure of his safety from such a fate. Now,\nhowever, he seemed actuated by one sole desire, namely, that of leaving\nthe place; and, as his young master was entirely of the same opinion,\nthey made no longer stay.\n\nPhilip walked back through the wood the same way that he had come,\nregained the shrubberies, walked up the lawn and re-entered the house.\nThere he was at once encountered by his mother, who accosted him with\naffectionate words, and eagerly asked him if he had heard any news of\nhis sister. When the boy for reply merely placed one finger upon his\nmouth and said nothing, the good lady seemed, and doubtless was, rather\nastonished.\n\n\"My darling boy,\" she said, \"what is the matter? Why don't you speak?\nAre you hurt? Have you any pain anywhere?\" And withal she poured upon\nhim such a torrent of questions that Philip did not know what to do.\nStill, however, he persevered in his silence, although it was very hard\nto do so when his mother kissed him and spoke so kindly to him all the\nwhile. He could hardly bear it, so broke hastily from her, and ran up\nto his own room, pushing almost rudely past Mrs. Trimmer, who met him\non the stairs and was quite ready for a chat.\n\nWhen he got to his room he threw himself into a chair, and pondered\nover all the strange events of that afternoon, which seemed to him\nbeyond belief, only that, as they had actually taken place under his\nown eyes, he could not help believing them. Whilst thus engaged, the\ndressing-bell rang, and the servant brought up some warm water and put\nout his evening clothes.\n\n\"What time shall I call you to-morrow morning, master Philip?\" asked\nthe man, and was exceedingly surprised to find that the young gentleman\nmade no reply whatever. He repeated the question with the same result,\nand then, supposing that Philip must have some unknown reason for his\nconduct, left the room without further remark.\n\nThe boy proceeded to dress and, at the proper time, descended to the\ndrawing-room, where his father and mother already were. They were both\nin a melancholy frame of mind, as may well be supposed, for no tidings\nhad been heard of their daughter, and they could not but fear that she\nwas lost to them for ever. Philip walked stealthily into the room, in\nthe direst perplexity how he should be able to avoid speaking.\n\n\"Well, my dear boy,\" began his mother directly, \"have you found your\ntongue yet?\"\n\nThe boy made no reply, upon which his father joined in.\n\n\"Philip, my boy, why do not you answer your mother?\"\n\nStill no word came from Philip, and his father, who was accustomed to\nbe treated with respect and obedience, grew angry at his continued\nsilence.\n\n\"Why don't you speak, boy?\" he asked again. \"Your mother and I are in\ntrouble enough to-day without your adding to it by any childish folly\nof this kind. I should have thought you would have felt the same as we\ndo.\"\n\nStill the poor boy spoke not a word, which made his father still more\nangry.\n\n\"Have you got no tongue in your head, sir?\" he cried, and laid his hand\nupon Philip's shoulder somewhat roughly.\n\nBut the mother here interposed.\n\n\"Don't scold him, James,\" she said. \"Don't be cross with the\nboy--remember he is the only child we have left now,\" and she burst\ninto tears.\n\nIn soothing her the husband forgot the boy, or perhaps found it more\nconvenient to say nothing further at the moment. They went into dinner,\nand were astonished to see Philip shake his head when the servants\noffered him soup, fish, and roast veal (of which he was particularly\nfond) and content himself with eating his bread and drinking a glass of\nwater. They began to think that their son must be ill; but it was in\nvain that they questioned him. He only put his finger over his mouth\nand resolutely declined to speak. Then his father expressed his fear\nthat something or other must have frightened or hurt him in such a\nmanner as to have affected his brain, and, at length, he determined to\nsend for the doctor, who lived about three miles off, in the nearest\ntown. Still Philip remained silent, and the strangeness of the\noccurrence was so far useful to his parents as that it, in some\nmeasure, turned the current of their thoughts from the great sorrow in\nwhich they had previously been absorbed.\n\nAs soon as the doctor came he performed the usual mysteries of his\nprofession. He looked at Philip's tongue and said it was not unhealthy.\nHe felt his pulse and declared there was no fever, and he finally\npronounced that his indisposition--for such he termed it--though Philip\nwas never better in his life, proceeded from some temporary\ndisarrangement of the nervous system, which he had no doubt of being\nable to treat with success. He prescribed two pills to be taken at\nnight, and a draught (the colour of which was the only pleasant thing\nabout it) in the morning, and left the patient with a promise to return\nnext day. During the whole of his visit, however, not one syllable did\nhe get out of Philip, which, as he prided himself upon his\nconversational powers, and the successful manner in which he always got\non, especially with young people, rather annoyed him.\n\nWhen Doctor Pillgiver had gone, the parents, somewhat relieved by his\nreport, strove again to persuade their son to resume his natural habits\nof conversation, for Philip was a boy neither sullen nor shy, but one\nthat generally talked freely, and had plenty to say for himself. As,\nhowever, he entirely declined to say anything, his father at last got\nangry, and, telling him that he feared he was giving way to an\nobstinacy which, unless conquered, would prove his ruin, sent him\nupstairs to bed.\n\nPoor Philip was really rejoiced at this, for he was not likely to have\nany mortal to speak to before morning. But his tender mother, unhappy\nat the thought that her boy might be ill, and thinking that he might\nrepent of his silence after he had left her and his father, came to his\nbedside to see him the last thing before she herself retired. This was\nhard to bear, for to refuse the last kiss and \"good-night\" to one's\nmother is difficult indeed. Philip felt this, but he also felt that\neverything probably depended upon his obeying the conditions of the\nfairy queen, so the rogue pretended to be asleep, and said nothing,\neven when the dear mother softly kissed his forehead and invoked a\nblessing upon her beloved son.\n\nAll that night the boy could scarcely sleep for thinking over the\nextraordinary things that had happened. He tossed uneasily to and fro,\nthen got up and drank some water, then laid down in one particular\nposition, and determined to remain just so until he _did_ get to\nsleep--then changed his mind and turned quite round to try another\nposition, and altogether managed to have such a restless and\nuncomfortable night as seldom falls to the share of a boy of his age\nand good health.\n\nAt last morning came, and Thomas, the footman, called him as usual,\nwondering again that his young master never wished him \"good morning,\"\nor asked him if it was a fine day, as he almost always did. Philip\ndressed and came down to prayers and breakfast, according to his\nfather's rule, or otherwise he would have slipped out of the house and\nkept away all day, until the time of his silence should be past. It was\na great trial to him that morning, for his parents were both evidently\nvexed with him, and could not understand the meaning of his silence.\n\nHis father spoke so sharply to him that the tears came into his eyes,\nbut his mother again interceded for him, and as soon as breakfast was\nover he stole away to take refuge in the garden.\n\nHere again he had difficulties to encounter, for the gardener came to\nask him some question about the rolling of the cricket-ground, about\nwhich Philip was always very anxious, and it was exceedingly tiresome\nnot to be able to answer him, especially as this was the head gardener,\nand anyone who has ever had anything to do with such people, knows that\nthey are personages of dignity and position, with whom it is never safe\nto trifle. So the boy knew that he ran no small chance of having his\ncricket-ground altogether neglected if he offended Mr. Collyflower, and\nwould not have run the risk on any account, had not the recovery of his\nsister been of paramount importance.\n\nNext he sauntered into the park, where the gamekeeper presently\nappeared to take his wishes as to a hawk's nest which he had found, and\nthe eggs of which he thought he could get, if so be that Master Philip\nwould fancy to have them.\n\nIt seemed both uncivil and ungrateful to give no answer, but he felt\nthe whole weight of his responsibility and said never a word. But his\nworst trial was yet to come.\n\nFlora Malcolm, a young lady who lived near, and of whom Philip was\nparticularly fond, rode over to luncheon that day, and wanted him to\nride part of the way back with her. She was astonished at his silence\nand at his diet at luncheon, and rallied him considerably upon both.\nYet the boy held his tongue.\n\nMost fortunately for him, his father had again gone off to renew his\nsearch after the lost girl, for had he been at luncheon, I think it\nmore than probable that he would have resorted to some of those\npaternal remedies for filial disobedience which would have rendered\npoor Philip extremely uncomfortable, even if it had not ended in his\ndisobeying the injunction of the fairy queen, and so losing Evelyn for\never.\n\nFlora's raillery was hard to bear, but after a while she ceased, and\nbeing a clever girl, took it into her head that there might be a reason\nfor his silence which she could not understand. For be it observed that\nthere is no more certain sign of cleverness than when a person is able\nto feel and realise that there may be some things above and beyond his\nor her comprehension. For the generality of people think they can\nunderstand anything and everything, and that what they cannot\ncomprehend is sure to be absurd, unreasonable, and foolish, whereas in\nall probability these are the epithets which should in reality be\napplied to themselves.\n\nFlora took a different view, and being goodnatured moreover, left off\nteasing Philip when she perceived that it was no joke with him, but\nthat there was something serious as well as singular in his proceeding.\nShe had to ride back alone, poor girl, for Philip shook his head when\nshe suggested that he should join her, and of course she could say no\nmore. She did not stay long after luncheon, finding the distress in\nwhich the family were plunged, and as soon as she was gone, the boy\nagain betook himself to the garden, and got through the afternoon\nwithout a word.\n\nHe looked forward with the greatest horror to dinner time--a feeling\nwhich had hitherto been as strange to him as to any other schoolboy. So\nit was now, however, for he knew he should have a terrible ordeal to go\nthrough. His father, having returned from another unsuccessful ride,\nwould not only feel angry, but hurt, if his son made no inquiries as to\nwhether any news had been heard of his sister. If again, he saw him for\nthe second night remaining silent and refusing everything to eat and\ndrink save bread and water, his patience would most likely be\nexhausted, and he might act in a manner the consequences of which might\nbe unpleasant.\n\nSuppose his anger should take the form of sending Philip to his own\nroom immediately after dinner, and thus preventing his being in the\nforest at the time appointed by the fairy queen!\n\nThis was a thought which gave the boy so much uneasiness, that he at\nlast made up his mind that, as the risk was too serious to run, he had\nbetter shirk dinner altogether. So when the dressing-bell rang at\nhalf-past seven (for his parents always dined at eight), instead of\ngoing in to dress, Philip slipped quietly out of the shrubberies, with\nPincher by his side, and made the best of his way to the forest. The\nmoon would not rise that night till past nine, and of course he would\nbe missed before that; but he thought they would very likely not send\nfor him, or if they did, no one would be likely to find him.\n\nHe marched into the forest full of hope, feeling sure that he had\nobeyed the fairy's directions in every particular, and that unless she\nhad grossly deceived him, he should soon see his dear sister once more.\n\nOn he went, as he thought, exactly in the same direction in which he\nhad gone the day before. The air was mild and pleasant--a gentle breeze\nrustled in the leaves overhead--the birds had hushed their singing, and\nNature seemed to be about taking her rest preparatory to a new day of\nlife and action.\n\nThe turf was soft and springy under the boy's feet, the trees cast\naround him their strange and fantastic shadows, the distant bells fell\nfaintly on his ears, and more faintly still as he went further into the\nforest, and all seemed so peaceful and rest-bringing that he thought it\nwas no wonder that hermits and such like worthy people should generally\nchoose some woodland recess in which to dwell when they have had enough\nof the outside world, and want to find rest and peace and happiness in\nthe oblivion of worldly strife which such a solitude would engender.\n\nBut when Philip, thinking these thoughts and a great many others, no\ndoubt, besides, had walked some distance, it struck him that he must\nsomehow or other have missed his way, for he seemed to be in quite a\ndifferent part of the forest from that in which he had met with his\nyesterday's adventure. It was getting darker and darker, as far as he\ncould see, and he began to be afraid that he might after all miss the\nplace and never find his sister again.\n\nUnder these circumstances he did not think it of much use to go\nwandering on and on, uncertain whether he was going right or wrong, and\ntherefore sat down upon the gigantic roots of a large oak, and there\ntook time to consider what he had better do next. It must now have been\ngetting on for nine o'clock, and presently a soft, tender light began\nto steal down through the overhanging branches, and illuminate the\nforest with a silvery tinge. The moon was evidently beginning to assert\nher dominion over the night, and to tell the darkness that it could not\npossibly be allowed to have it all its own way.\n\nThis, then, was the hour of which the Fairy Queen had spoken, when she\ntold him to come at the rising of the moon and make his second request.\n\nYes! beyond all doubt this was the hour; but where the Fairy glade was,\nwas quite a different question.\n\nEverything seemed to be quiet and still in the forest, which was going\non in its natural way, as if it had never had a fairy in its shades,\nand did not want one either.\n\nPhilip rose to his feet and listened attentively. Nothing was to be\nheard but the distant hoot of an owl.\n\nThe moon grew brighter and brighter, and very beautiful did the trunks\nof the old trees appear in her silvery light, seeming to assume quaint\nand curious shapes, as the boy gazed earnestly around him, in the hope\nof seeing or hearing something which might direct his next proceeding.\n\nFor some time he gazed in vain, and then, remembering that he was not\nforbidden to speak save to a mortal, that Pincher was probably not\nconsidered a mortal in the sense in which the word had been used, and\nthat if he was, the command to silence had ceased with the rising of\nthe moon, he addressed his dog in the following words:--\n\n\"Pincher, old boy, I wish you would find the glade for me. After making\nme hold my tongue so long, and eat nothing but bread and water, it\nwould be a thundering shame if the fairy sold me after all!\"\n\nPincher, on being thus accosted, looked up in his master's face, whined\ngently, wagged his tail, and seemed inclined to run off, as if for a\nhunt on his own account.\n\nBut at that moment the rustling of wings was heard, accompanied by a\nrumbling sound inside the oak under which Philip had been sitting, and\nan instant afterwards he was startled by the sudden appearance of a\nwhite owl, very similar to that which he had seen and heard in the\nfairy glade. She bustled out of the hollow of the tree in just such a\nhurry as you might fancy her to have been in if she had overslept\nherself and found she should very likely be late for the train, and, as\nsoon as she got well out, she perched upon a branch for a moment, shook\nher head once or twice as if to be quite satisfied that she was awake,\nand then pronouncing in a low tone the word \"Follow,\" flew slowly off.\n\nPhilip did not hesitate for a moment to obey the bird's directions, as\nhe had found it answer so well to do so before. He followed as fast as\nhe could, though of course, being but a boy, he could not keep up with\na bird, and would soon have lost sight of her if the distance had been\nlong. Instead of this, however, it was fortunately short, and before\nthe boy had gone above a hundred yards at the most, he found himself\nonce more at the entrance of the fairy glade.\n\nHe knew pretty well what to do this time. He advanced to what appeared\nto be an eligible spot, pronounced the magic words with great emphasis,\nand then, breaking off a branch from a neighbouring tree as before,\ndrew the mystic circle round himself and the dog, and then stood\nquietly waiting to see and hear what would happen next.\n\nHe had hardly completed the circle when the same thing happened as on\nthe previous day: the same chorus of voices all broke out in the same\ntune, only with words slightly different--they sang\n\n    \"We don't want to drink--but by Jingo if we do,\n    We've got the wine--we've got the rain--\n        We've got the ev'ning dew,\"\n\nand then came peals of laughter from every side.\n\nAs these words rang in his ears, the boy wished as hard as he possibly\ncould that his sister might be suffered to come back with him safe and\nsound, and no sooner had he formed the wish than there she stood under\nthe old pollard, looking very much as usual, and rubbing her eyes as if\nshe had just been suddenly awakened from a very comfortable sleep, and\ndidn't half like it.\n\nPhilip's first impulse was to rush up to her at once, but he\nfortunately remembered that he was not in an ordinary place or\ndischarging ordinary duties. On the contrary, he had a tremendous\nresponsibility upon his shoulders, and if he should make any mistake it\nwas impossible to foresee the consequences either to his sister or\nhimself. He therefore stood perfectly still and said in clear and\ndistinct tones,--\n\n\"Evelyn, I want you.\"\n\nThe child scarcely appeared to see him when bespoke--then she seemed to\nmake an effort to move forward, but stopped as if something prevented\nher, and the next moment the whole troop of little beings came darting\nout from every corner of the glade and stood between her and her\nbrother. Then, as they had done on the previous occasion, they joined\nhands and danced round and round the circle in which Philip stood,\nalthough their dance was slower and less merry than before.\n\nThis went on for several minutes, and then they stopped, and fell back\non all sides into the fern and brushwood, whilst the little queen\nremained. She stood perfectly still for a full minute, casting a look\nupon Evelyn in which pleasure and sorrow were curiously blended, and\nseemingly unwilling to break the silence which prevailed. Then she\nturned her head round and looked upon Philip, who stood there, full of\nanxiety as to what would be the upshot of the whole affair, and\ndoubtful whether he ought himself to speak or not. Then she said,--\n\n    \"Once again, alas! we've heard\n    Magic sound of mighty word;\n    Which, tho' we would fain delay,\n    Elfins dare not disobey.\n    Since the maid has joined our ranks,\n    Shared our dance, and played our pranks\n    (Wonder not at what I tell),\n    We have learnt to love her well.\n    Greater grief has none e'er proved\n    Than to love--and lose the loved;\n    And if she would still remain,\n    Gladly we'd the maid detain.\n    Still--when magic word is said,\n    Magic word of mystic dread,\n    'Tis not as the Fairies please,\n    Save the Maiden's will agrees.\n    Say, dear child, sweet artless maid,\n    Dost thou love the woodland shade?\n    Would'st thou in the forest dwell,\n    Ever haunt the Fairy dell,\n    Ever leave thy former self,\n    And remain a woodland elf?\n    Wish--and thou hast power to be\n    Thing as wild, from earth as free,\n    As the Elf who speaks to thee!\n    Wish it _not_!--then count the cost--\n    To the Fairies thou art lost,\n    Never more in forest wild\n    Shalt thou act the elfin child;\n    Never, free from mortal care,\n    Flit on elf-wings through the air:\n    Scorning bolt, or bar, or lock,\n    Till the crowing of the cock\n    Summon back thy mates and thee\n    To moss-couches 'neath the tree.\n    Form thy wish, then, maiden dear,\n    None shall dare to interfere!\"\n\nAs the fairy queen spoke, Philip listened with great attention, with\nsome concern, and no little indignation. Her voice was very sweet and\npleasant; the picture she drew of the forest life of an elf was by no\nmeans disagreeable, and as he gathered from her words that Evelyn had\nalready tasted of its delights, he was apprehensive of the effect which\nthis temptation still to share it might possibly have. He felt,\nmoreover, that as he had honestly fulfilled his part of the bargain, it\nwould be palpably unfair if he got nothing by it, except the knowledge\nthat his sister was a fairy, which would be but a very small\nconsolation to the people at home. So he thought he had better strike\nin and tell his opinion at once, which he did in the following way:--\n\n\"I say!\" he cried, \"this is not fair. I was to come here to-night and\nhave my second boon--and I have said what it is. It will be no end of a\nshame if you don't give me back my sister. In fact, you promised it\nyesterday; and no fellow can stand being made to hold his tongue and\neat nothing but bread and water for the best part of a day and a half,\nand then be sold after all. Come! I say! this won't do at all, you\nknow!\"\n\nThe fairy listened to him with great politeness, and at once replied to\nhis remarks,--\n\n    \"I bade thee come by light of moon\n    If thou would'st crave a second boon.\n    I bade thee come: and thou art here,\n    A faithful brother, void of fear;\n    And thou hast kept conditions two,\n    Such as had been observed by few.\n    Yet--ere you blame my words, good youth,\n    Be moderate, and hear the truth.\n    When maids or youths o'er fairy lore\n    Attentively are wont to pore,\n    Their hearts 'twould mightily surprise\n    To see how oft our elfin eyes\n    See, and rejoice to see, them read\n    Of many a magic Fairy deed.\n    And when such youth or maiden list\n    To say that Fairies do exist,\n    We love them passing well, forsooth,\n    Because that they believe the truth.\n    So, when beneath our woodland shade\n    There wanders tender youth or maid,\n    On certain spot--at certain hours--\n    Our might avails to make them ours.\n    And when, resisting not herself,\n    A Maiden once becomes an elf,\n    Dares from her mortal form t' escape,\n    And roam the world in Elfin shape,\n    Unless it be by her free will,\n    She must remain an Elfin still.\n    'Tis true: the words of power have might\n    To force us into mortal sight,\n    And, tho' in elfin garment drest,\n    A mortal maid must stand confest\n    To eyes of him who once has known\n    And said these words--to him alone.\n    Thy sister, then, thine eyes have seen,\n    But I, thy sister's Fairy queen,\n    Have right to counsel and persuade\n    Her--who is half a woodland maid--\n    And should she wish it, she must stay\n    Beneath my loving Fairy sway.\n    If so--kind youth, oh! ne'er repine,\n    Or envy this success of mine;\n    _Her_ fate for ever light and free\n    From mortal grief, will happy be,\n    For mortal sin and human woe,\n    Thenceforward she shall never know!\"\n\nAs the fairy queen spoke these words, many thoughts passed rapidly\nthrough the mind of the boy. He saw at once that the victory was not\nyet so entirely won as he had supposed, and that people could not\nchange to and fro between mortal and fairy form as quickly as they\npleased. Of course he had not known his sister's fate until the fairy\nqueen uttered these rhymes, and even now he was left somewhat in the\ndark. Besides, as you will recollect, the excellent elfin had not told\nhim the exact truth after all, because she led him distinctly to infer\nthat Evelyn had become one of the elves by her own consent and free\nwill, whereas we know perfectly well that she had no intention of\nbecoming anything of the kind, and that as to \"resisting not herself,\"\nshe had no idea that resistance would do any good, and if she had\nthought so, would not have known in what way to resist, when the fern\nleaf was waved over her head, and she began to be sensible of the magic\ncharm which came over her.\n\nIt is quite true that she had taken kindly to the life of an elf, but\nit was certainly hardly fair to let her brother suppose she had become\none by choice. This, however, was not a point upon which he was at all\ntroubled. For one instant he doubted whether, if she were really so\nhappy, it would be doing her a real kindness to take her away from the\nfairies. But it was only for an instant. He felt sure that she must be\nunder some charm which prevented her declaring her own sentiments, and\ntherefore he did not at once put the question to her.\n\nBut he remembered to have read in various books concerning elves and\nfairies, that though they are a very interesting part of creation, they\nare in some respects inferior to mankind, and that they are a kind of\nbeing existing entirely and for ever in their present condition, with\nno soul and with no such future as that for which Christian men and\nwomen hope. Therefore, according to this view, his sister's condition\nwould be materially changed for the worse if she remained an elf, and\nit was his duty, if possible, to prevent it. Moreover, his father and\nmother had some claim to be considered; and he could not help thinking\nthat if Evelyn was a free agent and could say what she thought, felt,\nand wished, she would not only promptly recognise that claim, but would\nlong to rejoin the parents of whom she was so devotedly fond. He\nthought, perhaps, also of the mutual affection which had so long\nexisted between his sister and himself; but I will do him the justice\nto say that I do not think he would have wished her back if he had been\nsatisfied that it would be best for her own happiness that she should\nstay where she was.\n\nAll these thoughts flashed through Philip's mind during the fairy's\nspeech, and by the time it was ended he had quite made up his mind what\nto do. He looked firmly--though not unkindly--at the little lady, and\nthen, turning to his sister, he said in a loud, clear, steady voice,--\n\n\"Evelyn, I wish you to come to me and we will go home together.\"\n\nAs soon as the words were out of his mouth, a long, low wailing sound\narose on all sides of him, as if the little beings of the glade were\nbemoaning an affliction which they saw preparing for them and had no\npower to prevent. It hung in the air for a few seconds, and then died\naway in mournful cadence among the trees.\n\nMeanwhile the effect of Philip's words upon his sister were immediate\nand wonderful. She threw back her head, rubbed her eyes again, looked\nfirst to the right and then to the left, and then stepped straight\nforward for a couple of yards, and stopped, just as if somebody was\ntrying to hold her back. I suppose that she was too big to be held back\nby the little elves, since she had resumed her old mortal form at the\nfirst summons of her brother; but I also suppose from this circumstance\nthat they tried to keep her, and she always said afterwards, that soft\nmusical voices were in her ears, telling her of the joys of fairy-land\nand the happiness of the little elves, and begging her not to leave\ntheir merry party who had loved her so well.\n\nPhilip, observing her apparent hesitation, deemed it quite necessary to\ntake forthwith another and a more decided step. Elevating his voice a\nlittle, and speaking in a very firm tone, he said:\n\n\"Come along, Evelyn dear, pray do not dawdle any longer. I wish you\nwould come directly. By jingo, we shall hardly be in time for tea!\"\n\nThe words were scarcely spoken, when the same mournful sound arose,\neven more piteous than before, and rang through the evening stillness\nwith a melancholy cadence which might have melted the hardest heart, so\nmuch did it convey of real sorrow. But at the same moment all attempts\nto retain Evelyn ceased--her natural look, colour, and manner seemed\nsuddenly to have returned, and she bounded into the magic circle, and\nran into her brother's arms.\n\n\"Oh, Philip dear!\" she cried. \"Where _have_ you been? I haven't seen\nyou for _such_ a time! How nice it is to have you at home again!\"\n\nThe brother returned her affectionate caresses, and reminding her of\nthe lateness of the hour, said that they must return home at once. He\npurposely forebore to say anything of what had recently occurred, not\nknowing what the consequences might be, either to his sister or\nhimself, and putting his arm tenderly round her waist, began to leave\nthe glade, calling Pincher to follow him. They had not moved many yards\nforward, however, before low strains of sweet music were heard behind\nthem, and turning round, they saw the form of the fairy queen, who was\ngazing after them with a look of mingled tenderness and regret. She\ngracefully waved her hand to them as they retreated, and in her own\nsweet voice thus addressed them:\n\n    \"Farewell! ye mortal children twain,\n    Perchance we ne'er may meet again;\n    Yet, should we ever chance to meet,\n    My elves the twain will kindly greet.\n    And ye, in prose or minstrel lays,\n    When ye shall read of woodland fays,\n    Have friendly feeling for the elves\n    Who love you as they love themselves.\n    No more amid our glade to roam--\n    The brother leads his sister home.\n    From Fairy-land the twain depart,\n    To gladden soon a mother's heart,\n    And make a saddened home, to-night,\n    Once more enraptured with delight.\n    True brother! thou hast brought thine aid\n    To rob us of our captured maid;\n    Yet wast thou right, and for the same\n    'Tis not for fairy lips to blame.\n    And thou, sweet Eve, who thus has left\n    Thy elf companions all bereft,\n    Since thou with us no more wilt dwell,\n    We wish thee, lovingly, farewell.\"\n\nThen the fairy stepped lightly and gracefully back, still waving her\nhand; the music grew fainter and fainter, and ere long both the sound\nand the fairy form melted away from the sight and hearing of the\nbrother and sister, though the last lingering word, Farewell, once and\nagain repeated, still seemed to fall softly on their ears as they left\nthe glade.\n\nThey hastened home as fast as they could, and you may imagine the\nexcitement with which their arrival was greeted. Evelyn and her mother\ndevoured each other with kisses, and the father had such share of them\nas was left for him. Philip was at once restored to favour, and not\nonly was his former silence forgiven, but every amends was made to him,\nin the way of diet, for his fasting upon the previous day.\n\nMrs. Trimmer was so rejoiced at the happy conclusion of the adventure,\nthat she did not scold Evelyn for a month, in consequence of which her\nprogress in French and German was visibly slower than for some time\npast.\n\nEverybody in the house was glad to get the child back, and the only\nprovoking part of it was that, even after her extraordinary adventures,\ndisbelief in fairies still existed even in that well-informed\nhousehold. One gave one explanation of Evelyn's absence, and one\nanother; one laid it to the gipsies, another said she had run away and\nhid in a hollow tree, but nobody seemed to be entirely satisfied with\nthe plain, unvarnished truth as I have told it to you.\n\nBut so it is in this wicked world. Invent a perfectly untrue story, but\nmake it seem a little probable, and everybody will believe you, and not\nthrow the slightest doubt upon your veracity. On the other hand, let an\nextraordinary thing really happen, and if it falls to your lot to tell\nit, you are generally considered a \"story-teller\" in the worst sense of\nthe word.\n\nThis makes me so cross sometimes, that I think I will give up writing\nabout fairies altogether, and only write about grave and serious\nsubjects. But if I do that, I am afraid that nobody except members of\nparliament and diplomatists, politicians and teetotalers, and all those\nsilly sort of people, will read what I write, and so I think I will go\non for a little while longer in my old style.\n\n_I_ know that elves and fairies exist, and if all the rest of the world\nbelieves differently, it does not cause me the slightest inconvenience;\n_they_ can go their way, and I can go mine; and if they don't see any\nfairies, it is probably their own fault, as it is, I am sure, their own\nloss.\n\nI have no more to tell you of Philip and Evelyn now, except that they\nboth grew up and prospered, and that Evelyn often tells _her_ little\ngirls the story of her adventure with the fairies; and if anyone who\nreads this story would like to know more particulars, she is so\ngood-natured that I am quite sure she will tell them all about it if\nthey will only take the trouble to ask her when she does not happen to\nbe particularly engaged.\n\n\n\n\nCAT AND DOG.\n\n\nTo \"live like cat and dog\" has long been proverbial as a description of\na state of life in which quarrels and bickerings are of frequent\noccurrence. No one, however, as far as I am aware, has ever followed to\nits sources the proverb which is so familiar to us all; nor has anyone\nattempted to explain the reason of the antagonistic spirit which\nundoubtedly prevails between these domestic animals. Its prevalence is\ncertain, its consequences not seldom unfortunate, and many a once happy\nhousehold has been rendered miserable by its existence.\n\nAnimated by a sincere desire to acquire information, which might be at\nonce interesting to myself, and instructive as well as beneficial to my\nfellow creatures, I have spared no pains to discover the truth upon\nthis all-important subject; and if I can succeed in placing that truth\nclearly and dispassionately before the world, I shall feel--and I think\nI may cherish the feeling without exposing myself to the charge of\npresumption,--that I have not lived in vain.\n\nWhatever rumours may, in a less enlightened age, have prevailed upon\nthe subject, I believe that there is no doubt as to the origin of the\nunfortunate difference which first caused hostility to become deeply\nrooted in the breasts of the canine and feline races. Some have\nsupposed it to have sprung from certain acts of favouritism displayed\nby the human race towards one or other of the two species of animals;\nothers have come to the conclusion that in-bred and natural wickedness\ngave rise to the evil, whilst others again have started different, but\nequally unsound theories.\n\nThe true reason--the real beginning--the cause and foundation of the\nwhole thing, is to be found in the words of the old song, so familiar\nto nursery people:\n\n    \"Hey diddle, diddle; the cat and the fiddle;\n      The cow jumped over the moon:\n    The little dog laughed to see such sport,\n      And the dish ran away with the spoon.\"\n\nThe author of this ballad is unknown, but it has always been vastly\npopular with the race of cats, who see in it at once a tribute to the\nmusical genius of their people, as being identified with the violin\n(vulgarly herein called fiddle) and a recognition of their supremacy\nand superiority over other animals, inasmuch as \"the cat\" is mentioned\nfirst, before either cow or dog, fiddle or moon, and is evidently\npointed out as the chief personage celebrated by the rhyme.\n\nOn the other hand, dogs have never liked the verse. They directly and\npositively object to the precedence given to the cat; they dispute\naltogether the statement about the cow and the moon, as being\nimprobable, if not palpably false; and they further say that, if the\nlaughter of the little dog is intended to refer to this occurrence, it\nis a reflection upon the gravity and decorum of the dog race, whilst,\nif it is to be referred to the last line of the verse, it displays\ntheir representative as treating with unworthy levity that which, as\nfar as the dish is concerned, was either an unlawful elopement or a\npitiful theft.\n\nAt one time, when there was still a hope that the enmity of the two\nraces might be appeased, and a better state of things brought about, a\njoint committee of dogs and cats sat upon the question, in order to\nsubmit a report to the great council of animals, which might form the\nbasis of an amicable settlement. A lengthy and acrimonious discussion\nensued. The cats claimed precedence, and advanced many arguments to\nprove their superiority over their opponents. They boldly purred out\ntheir declaration to the effect that nature, custom, and all the\nevidence at command was clearly in their favour. They cited the\nopinions of mankind, as given in many books, speeches, wise proverbs,\nand witty sayings. They called to mind how that, in the case of heavy\nrain, men always remarked that \"it rained cats and dogs;\" placing, as\nthey averred, the superior animal of the two first, when it was\nnecessary to mention both, and the inferior one last. Moreover, many\nother things in the history of mankind denoted the prevalence and\nundoubted predominance of the same opinion. One of their favourite\nnames for their daughters was Kate--spelt commonly with a C when given\nin full, Catherine--and evidently a name adopted from that of cat, and\naffording another implied recognition of the general superiority of the\nfeline race.\n\nThen, said they, look at the way in which dogs are habitually spoken of\nwith contempt, and their name used as a reproach. If one man call\nanother a \"dog,\" it is held to be an insult. Tell anyone that such and\nsuch a person has a \"hang-dog\" look about him, and it is known you\nintend to convey the idea of his being a rascal only fit to be strung\nup at once. If a man is tiresome in argument, his companions term him\n\"dogmatic;\" if he is of an obstinate temper and sullen disposition, he\nis frequently called dog-ged; whilst on crossing the channel a person\nwho suffers from the malady of the sea is said to be \"as sick as a\ndog;\" and when mankind desire to express the failure in life, the ruin,\nthe abject and miserable condition of one of their own race, there is\nno more common or proverbial expression than that he has \"gone to the\ndogs.\"\n\nAll these, and many other instances, they quoted, as bearing upon the\ngreat question of the superiority of cats to dogs, and in fact,\nestablishing the same beyond any reasonable doubt.\n\nThe dogs, having listened to these observations and arguments with an\nattention which was only equalled by their indignation, advanced their\ncounter-arguments with great force, and evinced much learning and\nerudition. They took a preliminary objection to the evidence founded\nupon the manners and habits of human beings; avowing that even if they\nadmitted every instance which had been adduced, they might appeal to\nthe general practice of man, and the greater trust and reliance which\nhe habitually placed in the dog, as utterly negativing the supposition\nthat he had ever intended to imply the superiority of the feline tribe\nby any casual proverb or familiar saying. When was a cat employed to\ntend sheep? What keeper would trust a cat to do the office of a\nretriever, and to watch the young birds? To what cat was ever committed\nthe custody of a house, or when was a kennel provided for a cat, to\nserve the purpose for which only a mastiff, or some similar specimen of\nthe noble breed of dogs, was fit? All this forbad the supposition that\nmen preferred cats before dogs, or esteemed them at all equally, either\nas useful or ornamental animals. But if they considered the arguments\nbrought forward by the cats, one by one, with logical acuteness, they\nwould not find a single argument which was not susceptible of an\nentirely different construction from that put upon it by the cat\norators.\n\nFor instance, the expression that \"it rained cats and dogs\" clearly\nsignified (if taken for more than a colloquial expression to convey the\nmeaning that it rained hard) that the heavens from which the rain came\ndesired to get rid of the inferior animals first, and that it was only\nwhen the cats had been got rid of that a possible superfluity of dogs\nwas taken into consideration. The name Kate (which, by the way, was the\nabbreviation of Katharine, and had really nothing to do with the name\nCatherine) was not derived from anything to do with cats or kittens\neither; and it was much the same as if the dogs on their part were to\nclaim affinity with the ancient Doges of Venice, or to pretend to\nunwonted holiness because most of the good books of the early church\nwere written or translated by the monks into Dog Latin.\n\nAgain, as to one man insulting another by calling him a dog, that was\nnot exactly the case. Dogs did not speak with human tongues, and\ntherefore, when a man was called a \"dumb dog,\" it was only implied that\nhe was as dumb as a dog as far as the human tongue was concerned; dogs,\nmoreover, did not pretend to universal goodness--there were good dogs\nand bad dogs, mad dogs and sad dogs. When men wished to bestow praise\nupon one of themselves, they constantly called him a \"jolly dog;\" and\nif they sometimes called one of their own kind a \"cur,\" they alluded to\nan inferior species of dog, and in fact acknowledged the superiority of\nthe canine race by the very fact that they selected it as the race with\nwhich alone they could fairly compare one of themselves.\n\nThe \"hang-dog\" argument also told directly against, instead of for, the\ncats. What did it mean? Why, that any man who was a villain and a\nrascal looked as if he would actually be ready to hang a dog; and such\na crime would, in fact, constitute him both rascal and villain at once.\nWhat better proof could be afforded of the high estimation in which\ndogs were held by men?\n\nThe dogs further said that the cats had attributed a bad meaning to\nthe word \"dog-matic,\" but that it was also susceptible of a good\ninterpretation, being derived from a Greek word, dogma, a settled\nopinion, and signifying one who, knowing the truth, and having\nconfidence in the opinion at which he had duly arrived, had the courage\nof his convictions and stuck to them gallantly, which was certainly no\nreproach either to dog or man. The word \"dogged\" also might of course\nbe taken to mean \"sullen\" or \"sulky,\" but its primary signification was\nrather \"pertinacious;\" and it really meant that steadiness with which\nan honest dog pursued his course through life, yielding neither to\nbribes nor temptations, from whatever quarter they might chance to\ncome.\n\nWith regard to the expression, \"sick as a dog,\" they stated that it was\nscarcely more commonly used among men than the equivalent expression,\n\"sick as a cat;\" and they forbore, out of delicacy, to advance\narguments upon so disagreeable a point. It bore but little upon the\nquestion, and they might as well say that men hated cats, because they\nwere subjected to catalepsy; or that they evinced their dislike to the\nfeline portion of creation by calling a misfortune a \"cat-astrophe,\" a\nbad cough a \"cat-arrh,\" and a disease in the eye, a \"cataract.\" The\nlast allusion of the cats, namely, that to a man spoken of as having\n\"gone to the dogs,\" was the subject of a long and able argument on the\npart of the latter; who principally contended that the real meaning of\nthe phrase, duly considered and wisely interpreted, was quite different\nfrom that which their adversaries supposed; inasmuch as no man, being\nruined and miserable, would go to persons or beings who were held in\ncontempt or were in disgrace. What was really meant was, that, when a\nman had really failed in everything, and, being penniless and wretched,\nfound neither support, sympathy, nor consolation from those of his own\nspecies, he went where kindness, good faith, honesty, and charity were\never to be found, and sought among the true-hearted and friendly race\nof dogs that kindly welcome and reception which had been denied to him\nby his own people. It was a tribute, indeed, paid to dog-nature by\nmankind; and nothing of the sort had ever been said with regard to\ncats, who were well-known to be much more likely to scratch, than to\ncomfort, the unfortunate.\n\nThe arguments so forcibly advanced by the dogs made very little\nimpression on the cats who were upon the joint committee. There was a\ngood deal of purring, setting up of backs, miawing, and I fear a little\nspitting; but they listened with tolerable attention, and then replied\nin the same style as before.\n\nThey mentioned a bad, useless fish--which was called the dog-fish, on\naccount, they said, of its bad qualities; the dog-days--so called\nbecause hotter and more unbearable than any other days in the summer:\nthey drew attention to the fact that loose, bad rhyme was said to be\n\"doggerel,\" and that an inferior kind of flower was termed \"dog-rose.\"\n\nThe dogs rejoined, with spirit, that men called a depository for dead\nbodies a \"cat-acomb,\" a disagreeable insect a \"cat-apillar,\" and that\nanyone who was made use of by another to obtain his own ends was\ncontemptuously designated a \"cat's-paw.\"\n\nA debate carried on in this spirit could clearly lead to no\nsatisfactory result, and the end of the matter was that the committee\nseparated without having been able to agree to any report. The\nconsequence naturally was, that each race continued to regard the other\nwith suspicion and aversion; and that the relations between the two\nbecame, and seemed likely to remain, exceedingly unpleasant.\n\nThis version of the matter was given me by an animal whose veracity is\nabove suspicion, being none other than old Jenny, the donkey. She was a\nmost learned antiquarian, and had lived to a very advanced age before\nshe had finally settled her opinion upon the merits of the question.\nBut, being an ass of well-balanced mind, and entirely impartial between\nthe two races, I believe that she fairly stated the arguments on both\nsides, and that her accuracy may be thoroughly relied on.\n\nShe went on to relate to me chronicles of the past, which I found most\ninteresting; and it is with a view to the better understanding, by\nthose who care to read them, of those chronicles, that I have ventured\nto give the above preliminary facts upon the authority of this\nvenerable quadruped.\n\nThere was a time, she said, when dogs and cats were certainly upon\nbetter terms than at the present day. It was a happier time for both,\nshe had no doubt; but still, being but a donkey, and very humble, she\ndid not wish to put forward her opinion as by any means conclusive upon\nthat or any other point. She could not recollect the time when the two\nraces were positively upon friendly terms, but she believed such a time\nto have existed, and that within the memory of ravens, if not of asses.\n\nThere was a curious legend which had been told her by a tinker's\ndonkey, who had been a great traveller, and knew more than most of his\nkind, though there was, as a rule, much more knowledge among donkeys\nthan men supposed. This particular donkey, however, had seen and\nlearned in his travels a great deal more than many men; who, when they\ntravel abroad, only seem to try how far they can go, and when they\narrive at a city, live with their own fellow-countrymen as much as they\ncan, import their own method of life into foreign countries, instead of\nliving as the people of the country do; and come home again with a very\nsmall addition to the knowledge with which they started.\n\nThe tinker's donkey, being of a very different cast of character, and\nmuch given to careful and attentive observation of all he saw in the\nvarious places he visited, always brought home a vast deal of useful\ninformation, with which he never refused to enliven his brother asses\nas they enjoyed a friendly bray over their thistles. And it was during\none of these long journeys of his that he picked up the legend which he\ntold old Jenny, and which she generously imparted to me.\n\nAt a remote period of history--no matter exactly when and no matter\nexactly where--perfect love and harmony existed between the two great\nraces of dog and cat. There was neither jealousy nor rivalry between\nthem; and, indeed, why should there have been such at any period of\ntime?\n\nDogs have ever preferred bones, or portions of the carcasses of\nslaughtered animals, to any other food; whilst, to cats, the flesh of\nthe mouse, disdained as a rule by the canine species, and the tender\nbreast of the newly-fledged bird, form more attractive feasts.\n\nTrue it is, that both races are fond of milk, but there is nothing in\nthat single similarity of taste to excite ill-feeling and bitterness;\nand no dog ever clashed with the love of the cat for fish, nor have\ncats the same partiality for biscuits which some of the other race have\nfrequently displayed.\n\nThen, again, their pursuits in life are of a somewhat different\ncharacter, those of the dog being more varied than those of the feline\nspecies. The sheep-dog guards with vigilance the flock entrusted to his\ncare; the foxhound follows his prey with keen scent and unfailing\nardour; the greyhound stretches his lanky form in eager pursuit of the\nunfortunate hare; the mastiff, seated in front of his kennel in the\nbackyard, warns the inmates of the house of the approach of beggars or\npersons of doubtful character: the pug-dog, the terrier, the\npomeranian, all have their separate employments and varied uses, in\nnone of which does a cat seek to share, and with none of which does she\never wish to interfere.\n\nThe cat, on the other hand, has amusements and occupations to a great\nextent peculiar to herself. She loves to bask in the sun, upon the\nwindow-sill if such be available, on fine days, and in wet or cold\nweather to nestle snugly upon the hearthrug. When she goes out, it is\nnot to run here and there and everywhere, after the fearless and\nsometimes intrusive manner of the dog. She prefers to steal quietly and\nleisurely along, placing her velvety feet softly upon the ground, and\npeering round on each side of her, to see that the country is secure.\nCrawling along the top of a wall, or creeping up the stem of a tree,\nshe strives to capture the unwary bird, who may afford her sport and\namusement first, and a meal afterwards. Or, seated demurely in some\ncorner of a room or near some tree, where mice frequent, she does not\nobject to watch patiently, whilst minutes and hours pass away, in the\nhope of at last finding an opportunity to pounce upon her favourite\nvictim. With all this no dog has any reason to interfere, and none has\never attempted to rival the cat in the pursuit of bird or mouse.\n\nAgain: dogs are more apt to attach themselves to the persons of men or\nwomen, cats more readily become attached to the places in which they\nhave lived; so that, once for all, if we consider the nature, the\ncharacter, and the habits of these two great races, we shall, I am\nconfident, come to the conclusion that there can be no real cause for\ntheir natural enmity, but that, in the great scheme of creation, they\nwere intended to be upon as friendly and harmonious terms as was\ncertainly the case at the time of which we now speak.\n\nSuch were the reflections of Jenny, and I am inclined to endorse them\nall, and to think that I see the confirmation of their truth in the\nlegend which I am about to tell as she told to me.\n\nIt chanced that at this time a worthy couple possessed an animal of\neach sort, of which they were extremely fond. The dog was a handsome,\nblack, curly fellow; of what particular breed I don't know, but this\ndescription of him sounds as if he was a Romney-Marsh retriever, or\nsomething of the sort. The cat was a tortoise-shell, and one of the\nmost perfect specimens of her kind; with glossy fur, elegantly-shaped\nbody, and tail like a fox's brush, which swept the ground as she\nwalked.\n\nJenny did not know the names of the worthy couple who owned these\nanimals; and in fact I have noticed that, in most of the stories which\nanimals have told me from time to time, men and women are made to play\na very subordinate part, and are indeed for the most part considered as\naltogether inferior beings by the excellent animals of and by whom the\nstories are told. Thus, in the present instance, although the good ass\nknew perfectly well that the dog's name was Rover, and the cat's Effie,\nshe knew no more than an ignorant calf might have done of the names of\nthe people with whom they lived. Nay, if I remember rightly, her\nexpression was that, \"Some people lived in and kept the house in which\nRover and Effie dwelt;\" so that very likely the donkey, and perhaps the\nanimals themselves, considered that the premises belonged to\nthemselves, and that the man and woman were merely lodgers on\nsufferance.\n\nAnd very likely, as a matter of fact, this is the actual view\nentertained by many of our animals--horses, dogs, cats, possibly even\npigs and chickens--at the present day, if we did but know it. Perhaps\nit is as well we do not, as we might consider our supremacy challenged\nand our rights invaded, and this might make us less kind to the poor\nanimals, which would be very sad.\n\nI should not wonder, however, if it was the truth; for I am sure our\nservants--or some of them--have firmly-rooted convictions that our\nhouses and everything in them, are at least as much, if not more,\ntheirs than ours, and some of us give in to them very much as if we\nthought so too. So I do not see why the four-legged creatures, as well\nas the two-legged, should not think the same thing,--and perhaps they\ndo.\n\nRover and Effie, as I have said, lived in this house, which, to put the\nmatter in a way not likely to be offensive to anybody, was also\ninhabited by an old couple--I mean a man and his wife; because, of\ncourse, \"a couple\" might, standing alone, mean a couple of ducks, or a\ncouple of fowls, or rabbits, or anything else of the kind. But it was a\nman and his wife, and they had no children, and they were very fond of\nthe dog and cat, and petted them both exceedingly. They passed very\nhappy lives, having very little to trouble themselves about, and being\npossessed of a comfortable home, and plenty of agreeable neighbours.\n\nRover and Effie used to walk out together, and were for some time, as\nmost of their respective races were, the very best of friends. Neither\nof them would have suffered a strange dog or cat to breathe a syllable\nagainst the other; and in their tastes, thoughts, and actions, they\nwere as much allied as was possible under the circumstances.\n\nThings continued in this happy condition until an old weasel, who lived\nin the immediate neighbourhood, cast his envious and malicious eye upon\nthe two friends and determined it possible to interrupt their amicable\nrelations. He had his own reasons for so doing.\n\nThe family of weasels, though of ancient lineage and old blood, had\nnever been considered as particularly respectable. In fact they had\nalways been a set of arrant scamps. The rats and rabbits complained\nbitterly of their intrusive habits, and extremely disliked their\nabominable practice of entering the holes used by other animals, and\ncarrying blood and murder into homes that were otherwise peaceful and\ncontented. The hens also raised their homely cackle in the same strain,\nand counting egg-sucking as among the worst of crimes, brought heavy\ncharges against the weasels on that account. In fact, no one had a good\nword for the little animals, except indeed their cousins the stoats,\nand some of the unclean sorts of birds, to wit, the jay, the magpie and\nthe carrion crow, who themselves lived chiefly by thieving.\n\nThe weasel had a great jealousy of the cat, because she interfered with\nhim in the matter of rats, mice, and small birds, to all of which he\nwas partial; and he also saw in the dog a rival as regarded rabbits.\n\nWhilst the two remained in such close alliance, he thought that they\nwere able to wield a power which, although not actively exerted against\nhimself, was little likely to be ever used in his favour; and he\ntherefore resolved to lessen that power if he possibly could, by sowing\nthe seeds of discord between the hitherto friendly animals. But clever\nas he was, the weasel racked his brains in vain for a long time. He\ncould think of nothing which would effect his object, and could satisfy\nhimself with no plan by which he might approach the two animals with\nthat intent.\n\nIt would not, indeed, have been hard for him to have entered the house\nby the means open to him, namely, a drain or a rat's hole, of which\nthere were several. But, should he do so, he ran the greatest risk of\nhaving his intentions mistaken, and of suddenly falling a victim to one\nof the very two animals with whom (though not from any kindly feeling)\nhe wished to communicate. The same fear prevented his accosting them\nduring their walks, for he could not tell but that they might turn upon\nhim and seize him before he could escape. Direct communication, then,\nappeared to be out of the question; and he accordingly resolved to seek\na confederate, through whom he might perchance accomplish his wicked\nends.\n\nSo he went to a neighbouring magpie, knowing the love of meddling which\ncharacterises that class of birds, and sought her aid in his scheme.\nThe magpie was a very wary and cunning bird, and would not trust\nherself within paws' length of the weasel, for although she knew that,\nhappily for herself, she was not a morsel which even a weasel could eat\nwith relish, yet she was also well aware of the bloodthirsty nature of\nthe animal, and thought it better not to expose him to the temptation\nof getting her neck into his mouth. So she sat up in the old hawthorn\ntree, and chattered away to herself, whilst the little animal came\nunderneath and tried to attract her attention.\n\nWhen at last she condescended to see him, she would not enter upon\nbusiness for some time, but, like many persons who, not being blameless\nthemselves, are very ready to blame other people, chattered away to him\nfor a good five minutes upon the subject of his general bad behaviour,\nand read him a lesson upon morality, coupled with a homily upon the sin\nof thieving, which would have come admirably from the beak of a\nrespectable rook, but was very ill-placed in that of a notorious bad\nliver and evil-doer like the magpie.\n\nThe weasel, however, keeping his object steadily in view, heard her\nremarks with great apparent politeness, although as a matter of fact\nher advice (like that which many better people give, both in and out of\nseason) went in at one of his ears and out at the other, and produced\nnot the smallest effect upon his future conduct. When her chatter came\nat last to an end, he unfolded the nature of his business and asked her\ncounsel and assistance in the matter.\n\nNow the magpie was by no means friendly to the dog and cat, having an\nidea that they were better off in their worldly affairs than she was,\nwhich is always a sufficient cause for evil-minded people to dislike\nothers. So she had no objection at all to enter upon a scheme which\nmight annoy and injure them, and indeed her natural love of mischief\nwould have prompted her to do so, had she had no other feeling in the\nmatter. Having always, however, an eye to the main chance, she asked\nthe weasel what she should gain by the transaction, and having been\nfaithfully promised the eye-picking out of the first twelve young\nrabbits he should catch, she at once consented to go into the business.\n\nThe idea of the two confederates was to create in the first place a\ncoldness between the dog and cat, by means of inducing the couple\nalready mentioned, to show greater favour to one than the other.\n\nHere, however, arose another difficulty. How could either weasel or\nmagpie obtain access to a man and woman, or in any shape exercise an\ninfluence over their conduct and actions? The idea was so preposterous\nthat they had to give it up.\n\nThen came the question whether they could not persuade either the cat\nor dog to do something which would offend and annoy the other, either\nby being opposed to his or her feelings and prejudices, or being\nactually unpleasant and disagreeable. If they could only settle on\nsomething of this kind, it did not appear so impossible to carry out\nthe plan. The weasel need not be seen in the matter, and would incur no\nsuch personal danger as that to which he might have been exposed by any\nscheme which entailed his actual communication with the enemy. The\nthing must be done by the magpie, who, seated upon the roof of the\nhouse, or in an adjacent tree, could converse with either cat or dog\nwithout the smallest risk, and was sly and crafty enough to poison the\nminds of both.\n\nSo it was agreed that this should be the course taken, and what was to\nbe the precise form of the magpie's address will be speedily gathered\nfrom the story.\n\nThe two innocent animals who were the object of this nefarious plot\nupon the part of creatures so vastly inferior to themselves, were all\nthe while quite unconscious of the conspiracy which was being hatched\nagainst them. They went on just the same, and were as friendly as ever.\nNor was their harmony disturbed by the introduction into the household\nof a small poodle, whom somebody gave to the mistress of the house, and\nwho rather amused them than otherwise by his curious antics and\ngrotesque behaviour. He was a curious dog, and had some funny tricks,\nbut old Jenny said that she never heard that there was much against\nhim, or that he had any concern in the wicked plot of the weasel and\nthe magpie.\n\nHaving fully determined upon the plan to be pursued, the crafty pair of\nrascals waited until they could hit upon a time when the cat and dog\nwere not together. The opportunity soon occurred. One fine morning the\nhuman occupier of the house (who laboured under the strange but, among\nhuman beings, not uncommon delusion that the place and all that it\ncontained belonged to him) went out for a walk in the country,\naccompanied, as was frequently the case, by honest Rover.\n\nThe sun was shining so brightly that Mrs. Effie thought that she had\nbetter make the most of it, and get some fresh air at the same time,\nwith no more exertion than was necessary. So she climbed quietly up on\nthe window-sill, stretched herself at full length thereupon, and basked\nluxuriously in the warm rays of the sun.\n\nSeeing her thus enjoying herself, the magpie flew leisurely into an\napple tree which grew near the house, and began to chatter in a way\nwhich was certain to attract the cat's attention before long. After a\nlittle while Effie began to wink and blink her eyes, move her ears\nagainst the woodwork on which she lay, and appear as if disturbed by\nthe noise. Presently she lifted up her head, shook it, and sneezed\nviolently.\n\n\"Bless you, Pussy,\" immediately said the magpie from the apple tree.\n\nEffie looked at her in some surprise.\n\n\"Many thanks,\" she said; \"the more so, indeed, since I do not happen to\nhave the pleasure of your acquaintance.\"\n\n\"More's the pity,\" replied the bird; \"but that is no reason why I\nshould refrain from giving a civil blessing to a person who happens to\nsneeze, for you know well enough that if you sneeze three times without\nsomeone blessing you, evil is sure to follow within the week.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" answered the cat, somewhat coldly, for she hardly approved of\nbeing addressed by a mere bird, and that, too, a perfect stranger, in\nsuch a familiar manner. \"Indeed, I am sure you are very kind.\"\n\nAnd she laid her head calmly down again upon the windowsill. But the\nmagpie was not to be daunted, and determined not to lose the\nopportunity which she had so carefully sought.\n\n\"Although you don't know me,\" continued she, \"which is not surprising,\nconsidering that you move in high circles, whilst I am only, as one may\nsay, a humble drudge among the inferior parts of creation, it does not\nfollow, madam, that I am not well acquainted with _you_, and have long\nwished to obtain your friendship. The beauty of your fur, the elegant\nshape of your body, the graceful action with which you move, and, above\nall, the sweetness of your voice (which I have sometimes been fortunate\nenough to hear at nights), have all made an impression upon me which\nwill not easily be removed. I only wish I might know you better.\"\n\nAs the bird spoke, she hopped from twig to twig of the apple-tree,\nuntil she came within easy speaking distance of Effie, and lowered her\nvoice so as to make it less harsh, and more impressive in conversation.\nNow cats, as is well known to the attentive student of natural history,\nare by no means averse to flattery. It has sometimes been said that the\nsame is true of women, but this is by no means fair as a general\ndescription of the latter, many of them cordially disliking it, and\ntaking it as anything but a compliment when men bespangle them with\nempty flattery, instead of carrying on sensible conversation, and\ntreating them like reasonable beings. But it is undoubtedly true of\ncats. Three things they can never resist: cream, scratching their\nheads, and flattery; and as the magpie had no cream, and forbore to\nattempt scratching the cat's head for reasons of her own, she fell\nback, as we have seen, upon flattery.\n\nEffie listened, it must be confessed, with pleasure, and drank in the\nwords of the magpie as greedily as if they had been inspired by the\nundoubted spirit of truth. As a matter of fact, her elegance of body,\nbeauty of fur, and gracefulness of action might all have been fairly\nconceded to be matters of opinion, in which many would have agreed with\nthe magpie. But as to the beauty of her voice, anybody who has ever\nlain awake at night and listened to a concert of cats upon the adjacent\nroofs will be inclined to stop his ears at the bare recollection of it,\nand to confess that the magpie must have well known that she was\ntelling a--well, a tarradiddle.\n\nStrange to say, however, the allusion to her voice touched and pleased\nEffie more than anything else in the magpie's speech, and this the\ncunning bird had fully expected. She knew cat nature well, which\ndiffers but little from human nature in this respect, that people very\noften fancy themselves to possess some talent or virtue, in which they\nare, as a matter of fact, deficient, and not unfrequently, whilst\npriding themselves upon the fancied possession, neglect to cultivate\nand develop some other quality which they really have, and which might\nbe made much more useful to themselves and others.\n\nSo Effie was proud of her voice--where there was nothing to be proud\nof--and extremely pleased to hear it praised by the magpie, whom she\ninstantly set down in her mind as an evidently respectable and\nwell-informed bird, and one whose acquaintance it might be well to\nmake. Without lifting her head, however, or disturbing the position of\nher body, which was so placed as to get as much sun as possible, she\nreplied in a languid tone of voice:\n\n\"You are really very kind, Madam Magpie, and I am far from wishing to\ndecline the acquaintance you offer.\"\n\nThe magpie broke in at once in a quick chatter, her words tumbling one\nover another as if they could not get fast enough out of her beak.\n\n\"Oh, how good, and kind, and nice, and polite, and generous, and\naffable, and altogether charming you are! I have often watched you\nsunning on the window-sill or strolling about the gardens, or looking\nout for mice, or amusing yourself in one way or another, and I have\nalways looked, and longed, and hoped, and wished, and wondered if I\nmight make so bold as to speak to such a grand, lady-like, beautiful,\nqueenly creature; and when I've heard your voice, I've often said to\nmyself, 'Here's music, and melody, and taste, and feeling, and harmony,\nand everything that is delightful in sound, and if the lady would only\nlearn singing (though little learning it is she wants), and take it up\nas a profession, how happy the world and everybody in it would be made:\nand what so pleasant as to make people happy with the good gifts we\nhave, and who has more than she?'\"\n\nAs the magpie rattled on, Effie felt more and more pleased, and became\nstill more strongly convinced than before that the bird was a superior\ncreature, who had well used her opportunities, and possessed opinions\nwhich were entitled to great weight.\n\nMeantime the weasel, who was listening to the conversation from an old\nrat's hole in which he had hidden hard by, was fit to kill himself with\nlaughter when he heard the flattery of his ally, and how the cat took\nit all in.\n\nThe latter now raised not only her head but her body, and sat up upon\nthe window-ledge, looking with friendly glance at the old bird in the\ntree.\n\n\"Really,\" she said, in rather an affected tone, \"really, you think too\nwell of me--you do indeed--but now you speak of it, I _have_ (so my\nfriends say at least) something of a voice, and have often thought of\ncultivating it more than I have hitherto done. But all are not of the\nsame opinion, and I know that my friend Rover the dog thinks\ndifferently.\"\n\nHere the magpie quickly interposed.\n\n\"Oh the jealousy of this wicked world and of them dogs in particular!\nTo hear that black, ugly, shaggy animal howl at the moon, or what not,\nof a night. I declare if it isn't enough to drive one crazy; and for\nsuch an animal as _that_ to think anything but good of your lovely,\nsweet, tuneful, angelic notes! 'Tis really shocking to think he should\ndo so--but envy and meanness, my dear creature, and malice and jealousy\nwas ever in the hearts of dogs--forgive me that I should say so,\nknowing as how you live in the same house and bear with him as you do.\"\n\nThese words rather gave Effie a new idea of her situation, but as they\nwere evidently intended to be complimentary to herself, though at her\nfriend's expense, she listened to them with complacency.\n\n\"You must not blame my friend,\" she demurely answered, \"because he has\nnot such a voice as mine. Few have such, as I think I may say without\nbeing suspected of vanity, and I have no reason to think that he is\neither mean or envious. True, he does not evince the same pleasure in\nmy notes as that which you so kindly express, but this is merely a\nmatter of taste.\"\n\n\"Ah, you dear, kind, good, charitable creature,\" rejoined the magpie,\n\"it is so like you to take the best and most pleasant view of whatever\nanybody else says or does. But never mind, if the dog don't like it,\nothers do, and for _my_ part, I should like to hear you play and sing\nall day and all night long.\"\n\n\"As for playing,\" returned the cat, \"I do not pretend to do _that_; in\nfact I have never learned, and have always been accustomed to trust to\nmy natural voice without any accompaniment.\"\n\n\"Never learned to play?\" cried the magpie in a voice of astonishment.\n\"Dear me, dear me, what a pity! I have so often heard good singers like\nyou speak of the pleasure of being able to accompany oneself, and I am\nsure you _could_ play if you liked. Now I have a neighbour who plays\nthe violin in the most delightful manner, and what is more, he gives\nlessons upon that charming instrument. A very few lessons from him, and\nI am sure you would play so well that the whole neighbourhood would\nflock to hear you!\"\n\n\"Really,\" said Effie, \"this sounds very tempting. I have always felt\nthat one ought to cultivate one's talents, and make the most of the\ngifts which Nature has given us. Your words are well worth\nconsideration,\" and she mused for a few moments, purring all the while\nin a contented and self-satisfied tone.\n\nThe magpie, who had now brought the conversation to the very point she\ndesired, according to the plan agreed upon with the weasel, began to\npress the matter home to the cat, telling her that she was wronging\nherself as well as all the other animals in not making her talents of\nmore avail to them, and taking advantage of the opportunity which now\noffered.\n\nThe musical neighbour of whom she had spoken, turned out to be \"Honest\nJohn,\" the hare, and although his services were in great requisition,\nthe magpie said, she was sure that she should be able to secure them\nfor so distinguished a person as the cat, provided that she would\nconsent to take lessons.\n\nAfter a little more talk, Mrs. Effie decided to allow the magpie to\nsound the hare upon the subject, and appointed another meeting upon the\nfollowing day in order to discuss the matter further. Then the magpie,\nhaving done a good morning's work, and successfully laid the train by\nwhich she hoped to carry out her plot with the weasel, flew chuckling\noff, whilst the weasel stole silently away, and occupied himself on his\nown affairs.\n\nMeanwhile the cat was much gratified by all that had passed. She felt\nthat she was appreciated; and that those who lived around evidently\nrecognized her as a person to be considered and made much of. She\nresolved that she would tell the dog nothing whatever of her interview\nwith the magpie, partly because she thought he would laugh at the\nreadiness with which she had listened to the bird's flattery, and\npartly because she was quite sure that he would entirely disapprove of\nher proposed lessons upon the violin. Thus, then, were the first seeds\nsown of that unhappy quarrel which was destined to divide the two once\nunited races.\n\nRover returned from his walk in a cheerful and pleasant mood, and\nbehaved in the most friendly spirit towards his old friend. He could\nnot help observing, however, that she hardly treated him after the same\nfashion. She seemed to hold her head higher than usual, and stood more\nupon her dignity than had formerly been the case. Being a good-natured\ndog, he took no notice of this, and, in fact, attributed her conduct to\nsome accidental derangement of the nerves or the digestion. But when\nthe same thing continued during the whole of the next day, he began to\nfeel rather annoyed. Still he said nothing, and went for his walk as\nusual. As soon as his back was fairly turned, the magpie again made her\nappearance, and commenced another conversation with the cat. She had\nnot been able to see Honest John, she said, but had made an appointment\nfor the following day, and would call again on the morning after. Then\nshe went on in her former strain, praising the cat's beauty and\nsweetness of voice to the skies, and throwing in all the nasty\ninsinuations she could think of against poor Rover. Jenny always used\nto get angry when she came to this part of the story, vowing that no\nfaithful person, and, in fact, no real lady, would have allowed anyone\nto say such things of an absent friend, but would have stopped the\nmischievous gossip at once.\n\nEffie, however, did no such thing; and after all, we must own that she\nonly acted in the same manner as a great many men and women, for\neverybody likes to hear himself praised, and when a person wants to\nabuse or run down another, if he manages to do so in the same\nconversation in which he flatters his listener, he has an excellent\nchance of escaping without rebuke from the latter. Besides, whatever\nJenny's opinion may have been, we know very well that, after all, she\nwas but an ass.\n\nSo the second visit passed off as successfully as the magpie could have\nwished, and then there was a third, and at each interview she scattered\nher poisoned seed so cleverly, that day by day the difference between\nthe two old friends grew imperceptibly wider. I think it was not until\nthe magpie had paid her fourth visit that the arrangement about the\nviolin lessons was finally made.\n\n\"Honest John\" had reasons for declining to visit the house in which\nMrs. Effie lived, but, on being bribed by promises of lettuce and\nparsley from the garden, freely given by the cat, and conveyed to him\nby the magpie, the hare consented to give evening lessons three times a\nweek to Effie, provided that she would consent to come down and receive\nthem by the stream which crossed the meadow close to the wood in which\nHonest John generally resided. In that meadow lived a most respectable\ncow, reputed to be a great lover of music, and John suggested that\nafter a short time it might be possible for the two to take lessons\ntogether, and that a duet between them would be most melodious.\n\nStill this arrangement was kept completely secret from the dog, and the\nresults that followed almost entirely arose from this silence on\nEffie's part, which was really as foolish as it was unnecessary. Had\nshe opened her heart to her old friend, all might yet have been well,\nbut she had promised the magpie to conceal the matter, and so she did.\n\nShe was obliged to practise deceit in order to go forth to her lessons\nwithout the knowledge of the dog. She therefore pretended to him that\nshe had a great fancy for cockchafers, which always came buzzing about\nin the early summer evenings, which was the best time to catch them. So\nshe made this the excuse for stealing out of the house somewhat late,\nand Rover, finding that she evidently did not want his company, and\nbeing too proud to force himself upon anybody, stayed quietly at home.\n\nSo the lessons began, and it must have been a curious sight to see the\nhare and the cat sitting side by side between the wood and the stream,\nthe former instructing the latter how to hold the violin and to wring\nfrom it those sounds with which, according to the magpie, she would\nsoon delight the world.\n\nThe worthy Rover, albeit quite unsuspicious of what was going on, saw\nno improvement in the manners and behaviour of his old friend. She was\nnot only cold to him, but not unfrequently behaved with positive\ndiscourtesy, making faces when he wished to engage in a friendly game\nof play with her, frequently setting up her back at him, and\noccasionally going to the length of spitting. In fact, whatever harmony\nshe might be learning from the hare, the harmony of the household was\ncertainly not increased, and a most uncomfortable state of things\nprevailed. The good dog became positively unhappy when he found that\nsuch an estrangement had grown up between his old friend and himself,\nand often wondered whether he had given her any just cause of offence,\nand whether any action on his part would be able to set matters right\nagain.\n\nSo matters went on for some time, and the magpie and weasel chuckled\nvastly over the success of their wicked plot. The cat, meanwhile, made\nsome progress with her lessons, and received the compliments of honest\nJohn upon her performance, which in reality was execrable. She had not\nthe slightest idea of time or tune, and could hardly produce a sound\nfrom the violin, whilst her voice was so disagreeable that the cow, far\nfrom consenting to join her in a duet, invariably left that part of the\nmeadow as soon as she began, and went away to moo by herself as far off\nas possible. Still the cat persevered, the foolish hare expressed\nhimself satisfied, and the magpie lost no opportunity of encouraging\nEffie in her praiseworthy exertions.\n\nShe irritated Rover exceedingly about this time by caterwauling\nfrequently at night, which made the honest fellow quite fidgety, and no\ndoubt contributed in some degree to the final catastrophe which was now\ndrawing near.\n\nThe magpie, who, as it may be seen, cared neither for dog, cat, hare,\nnor for anything nor anybody except her own interest and amusement, saw\nplainly enough that the cat could not be deceived for ever by her\nflattery, and that some day or other she would discover the truth,\nnamely that she was making no progress at all with her music, and was\nin fact no further advanced than when she first began. Having no regard\nwhatever for the hare, upon whose large eyes she sometimes cast a\ncovetous glance as if longing to peck them out, the wicked old bird\nthought that her best plan to turn the cat's possible anger from\nherself, would be to persuade her that her progress towards musical\nperfection was only delayed by the negligence or stupidity of \"Honest\nJohn.\"\n\nShe began by suggesting to Effie that although her voice was as fine as\never, and her notes as clear and true, she did not seem to be able to\naccompany herself as yet upon the violin. Considering her great natural\ntalent this was certainly rather strange. Was she _quite_ satisfied\nwith her master? Hares were jealous animals. Was this one free from the\ndisease? Would it not be well to ask him why she could not yet\naccompany herself as she wished to do?\n\nBy means of such words as these, the cunning magpie succeeded in\ngradually instilling into the mind of Effie discontent and suspicion of\nthe hare, towards whom she had up to that time entertained nothing but\nfeelings of gratitude and friendship. At her very next lesson she\ncomplained of not getting on fast enough, and questioned Honest John\nsharply upon the subject. The hare made the best excuses that he could,\ntook most of the blame upon himself, denied that there was any such\nwant of progress as was supposed, and promised that the very next\nevening he would persuade the cow to be present, and join in their\nmusical performance. That night Effie nearly drove Rover mad with her\nattempts at a private rehearsal.\n\nThe dog passed a sleepless night, baying angrily but uselessly at the\nmoon, and wondering how on earth any living creature, cat, dog, or man,\ncould find pleasure in squalling all night instead of going comfortably\nto bed, and seeking their natural rest. When next morning came, he had\nnearly had enough of it, and felt cross all day towards the cat, who\nhad really become such a disagreeable inmate of the house as to have\nalmost altogether destroyed its comfort as a home. The day wore on, and\nas evening approached, the cat made her usual preparations to leave the\nhouse for the purpose of taking her lesson.\n\nIn order fully to understand how it was that the events came to pass\nwhich I am about to relate, I must here remark that the little poodle,\nwhose name was Frisky, had observed the constant absence of Effie at\nthis particular time, and had once or twice spoken about it to Rover.\n\nOn this evening, when the same thing happened again, he remarked to the\nold dog that it was curious that the cat should so often go out of an\nevening, and suggested that they should stroll out together and see if\nthey could find out where she had gone to, and how she managed to catch\nthe cockchafers.\n\nTo this Rover consented, partly out of good nature towards the little\npoodle, and partly because, being rather out of sorts, and irritated by\nall he had lately had to go through, he thought a moonlight stroll\nmight cool his heated blood and do him good. So, about an hour after\nthe departure of the cat, when the moon was up and shining brightly,\nthe two dogs sauntered forth for their walk.\n\nMeanwhile Effie had gone down to her accustomed trysting place with the\nhare, and there she found Honest John, and saw that, true to his word,\nhe had induced the cow to cross the stream and consent to join in their\nperformance.\n\n[Illustration: THE CAT'S LAST MUSIC LESSON.--P. 212]\n\nThey began well enough: the hare playing a solo upon the violin, on\nwhich he was really skilful; and the cow afterwards mooing melodiously;\nthen the cat, after a gentle \"miauw,\" which hurt nobody's ears, took\nthe violin, and made a prodigious effort after success, raising her\nvoice at the same time in tones so discordant that the hare\ninvoluntarily clapped his paws to his ears to keep out the horrible\nsounds. This action suddenly and at once disclosed to the cat the real\npoverty of her performance; and the manner in which she had been\ndeceived by those who had flattered her upon an excellence of voice\nwhich she had never possessed. Forgetful of the real culprit, who had\nled her to the pass at which she had now arrived, she turned the full\ncurrent of her rage against the master who had failed to supply her\nwith that voice and taste for music which nature had denied. Dropping\nthe violin in a paroxysm of rage, she clasped the unhappy hare suddenly\nround the neck, as if in a loving embrace, perhaps meaning at first\nonly to give him a good shaking for his misbehaviour. As she did so,\nshe exclaimed--\n\n\"Honest John, Honest John, do you laugh at your pupils, then, and stop\nyour ears against the sounds you yourself have taught them to make?\"\n\nThe hare could only reply by a faint squeak, for the cat held him\ntight, and pressed his body close to her own. As she did so, I suppose\nnature asserted itself in her breast, and she could not resist the\ntemptation of fastening her teeth in the throat which was so invitingly\nnear her mouth. A fatal nip it was that she gave the poor hare. The\nwarm blood followed immediately. The tiger's thirst was awakened in the\ncat at once, and, all the more excited by the struggles of the hare to\nescape, she threw her paws more closely around him, and bit so fiercely\nthat the poor wretch soon knew that he was lost indeed. Forgetful of\nmusic, of the cow, of the violin, of everything but the mad passion of\nthe moment, Effie clung tightly to the dying hare, purring to herself\nwith a savage and horrible satisfaction as she did him slowly to death,\nand his large liquid eyes, turned to her at first with a piteous look\nas if to ask for mercy, grew fixed and glassy and dull as he yielded up\nhis innocent life and lay dead beneath his cruel pupil.\n\nAll this passed in a minute, and so indeed did that which followed. The\ncow, too utterly astonished at what had happened to think of\ninterfering, even if her peaceful disposition would not in any case\nhave prevented her doing so, stood aghast during the short struggle,\nrooted to the ground with horror and amazement. Then, when the horrid\ndeed was done, she gave vent to a mighty, unearthly bellow, turned\nround, rushed to the stream, in which the reflection of the glorious\nmoon above was clearly shining at the moment, leaped straight over it,\nand ran wildly away to the other end of the meadow.\n\nOther actors appeared upon the scene at the same moment. Rover and\nFrisky had by chance come that way in their stroll, and had seen the\nmusical performers just at the very moment when the cat gave vent to\nthose discordant notes which had so offended the ears of the\nunfortunate hare.\n\nThey had precisely the same effect upon worthy Rover, who no sooner\nheard them than he threw himself upon the ground, buried his head in\nhis paws, and tried to shut them out altogether. As he shut his eyes at\nthe time, he did not immediately see what followed. In fact he lay\nstill, groaning audibly for a minute or two, until aroused by shouts of\nlaughter from his little companion.\n\n\"Look, Mr. Rover,\" exclaimed little Frisky, still holding his sides\nwith merriment. \"See what fun they are having! Effie and a hare are\nrolling about together so funnily. And see--oh, _do_ look. Here comes\nthe cow! Oh, what a jump!\"\n\nAnd he went off into another fit of laughter as the cow came thundering\nby them in her mad career.\n\nBut when Rover raised his head and looked forward, he comprehended the\nscene at once, and knew that it was no laughing matter, at least for\none of the actors. For an instant--but only for an instant--he paused,\nbut in the next moment his resolution was taken. With a loud, indignant\nbark, he sprang forward, and rushed towards the spot where the\ntreacherous Effie still held her lifeless victim in her fatal embrace.\n\n\"Murderess!\" he shouted, as he sprang across the stream. \"Vile\nmurderess, these then are your cockchafers, and this the meaning of\nyour moonlight rambles! But you shall be punished for this abominable\ncrime, and that without delay!\"\n\nPerhaps if good Rover had made a shorter speech, or rushed upon the cat\nwithout making one at all until he had caught her, he would have\nsucceeded in his object, and avenged the poor hare.\n\nBut Effie was no fool, and as soon as she heard the honest bark of her\nold companion, she knew by instinct that the game was up, and that the\nsooner she was off the better. Therefore, without a moment's delay, she\ntore herself from the still panting body of the luckless hare, and\ndarted into the wood scarce half-a-dozen yards in front of the pursuing\nRover. In fact I think he would actually have caught her, and possibly\nchanged the whole current of the future relations which were\nthenceforward to exist between their respective races, but for her\nskill in climbing, of which she took advantage by rushing up a large\nleafy oak which stood near the outside of the wood, and from the lofty\nbranches of which she presently sat licking her lips and looking down\nin safety upon her late friend, but now justly incensed enemy.\n\nWith bitter words did the good dog upbraid her with her cold unkindness\nand deceit towards himself, and with her still worse treachery and\ncruelty towards her more recent acquaintance, the hare. He warned her\nagainst approaching any more the house which had hitherto been their\njoint home, and declared that for his part he could no longer have any\nfriendship for one so utterly base and wicked.\n\nThe cat, having no real defence to make against honest Rover's attack,\ncontented herself with setting up her back, and spitting violently\nuntil she had somewhat cooled down. Then, with consummate craft, she\nbegan to excuse herself, declaring that the dog was himself in fault,\nthat his arrogance and overbearing manners had become perfectly\ninsufferable, and that if she had done anything unworthy of her noble\nrace, it was not to a dog that she looked to be reproved for the same.\n\nThe bitter language which passed between these two animals is believed\nby Jenny to have been the source and origin of the subsequent\nestrangement of the two races, and there seems no reason to doubt the\naccuracy of her information. Certain it is that Effie never returned\nhome; whether remorse for her disgraceful conduct had any share in\nproducing this result, or whether it was simply from the fear of\nRover's threats, it is at this distance of time impossible to say.\n\nBut from that day to this not only did this particular cat never\nassociate with dogs upon friendly terms, but for any cat to do so,\nafter she had left kittenhood and reached years of discretion, was and\nis quite exceptional conduct.\n\nSome of Effie's race frequent the woods and mountain fastnesses,\navoiding altogether the abodes of men; others, indeed, consent to be\nconsidered as \"domestic\" animals, but they, for the most part, regard a\ndog as an intruder if he enters the house-door, and keep him at arm's\nlength as much as possible.\n\nRover returned home on that eventful night tired in body and sad at\nheart. To his honest and confiding nature it had been a cruel blow to\nfind that one whom he had of old trusted and loved had turned out to be\nboth treacherous and cruel. Singularly enough, in his return home, whom\nshould he encounter but the weasel, who, forgetful of his usual\ncaution, and desirous of annoying his enemy, let him know that he was\naware of the cat having deceived him, and too plainly showed his\nexultation at the quarrel which had taken place, and his hope that it\nwould be permanent. Rover rushed upon the little beast before he could\nescape, and made an end of him with a single shake.\n\nThe result as regarded the magpie was more curious still. Being an\ninveterate thief, she no sooner saw that both the dogs, as well as the\ncat, were out of the house, than she flew in through the window, and\nseized a silver spoon which was lying upon an ordinary meat dish for\nthe usual purpose to which such articles are devoted, namely, the\nhelping of the gravy. Delighted with her booty, she flew to the\nwindow-sill, and having hid the spoon in the ivy which clustered round\nit, had just hopped into the room again, when the door suddenly opened,\nand the window blew to with a bang in consequence of the sudden\ndraught.\n\nAs it was a self-fastening window, the bird was unable to get out, and\nsat there trembling whilst the man-servant belonging to the house\nentered the room. Looking round, he presently perceived some gravy\nspilt on the clean table-cloth, and another glance satisfied him that\nthe silver gravy spoon was missing.\n\nAs he knew he should be held responsible for the loss, the plate being\nall in his charge, the man was naturally much annoyed, and looked right\nand left to see where on earth the spoon could have flown to. Soon he\nespied the magpie crouching in the corner of the window-seat, and\ntrying to hide herself.\n\n\"There's the thief, I'll be bound!\" he cried, and stepped towards her.\n\nThe bird, quite beside herself with fear, fluttered on this side and\nthat, vainly endeavouring to escape through the window.\n\n\"No you don't!\" said the man. \"You've been stealing, have you, Mistress\nMag. Where's the silver gravy spoon?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" shrieked the magpie; \"I never stole it!--I never stole it!\"\n\n\"What has become of it?\" said the man.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know--indeed I don't know! The dish ran away with it!\"\nshrieked the magpie, in great distress of mind, as the man reached out\nhis hand to seize her.\n\n\"Tell that to the marines!\" replied the man, which was an idle and\nuseless saying, for there were no marines there; and if there had been,\nit was highly improbable that the magpie would have told _them_.\n\nHe seized the bird by the wing, and in the agitation and confusion of\nthe moment, she resented the affront by giving him a sharp peck on the\nhand, a compliment which he returned by immediately wringing her neck.\n\nThus (said Jenny invariably, when she reached this point in her story)\nyou see that treachery and cunning, although they may be successful for\na time, in the long run always bring those who practise them into\ntrouble. So the magpie and weasel, who, by their malicious tricks\nbrought disunion among friends, and introduced strife into a once\nunited family, both lost their own lives within a very short time after\nthe success of their wily arts had been accomplished.\n\nIt was upon this old legend that the song was founded to which I\nalluded at the beginning of the story. I confess that I am not quite\nclear about the first words, \"Hey diddle diddle!\" Wise men and learned\nwriters have given several interpretations of this interjaculation, or\ninvocation, or exclamation, or whatever you please to call it.\n\nSome think that the word \"diddle\" (not to be found in any English\ndictionary of repute) must be a proper name, and that either it\nbelonged to the man who, owning the house in which the dog and cat\nlived, knew all the circumstances of the story, and being likely to be\ninterested in it, was naturally invoked by the author at the beginning\nof his song; or that it was, in fact, the name of the author himself,\nand that the words mean that \"I, Diddle, wish to call your attention to\nthe following extraordinary facts.\" Others, however, equally learned,\nhold that the word to \"diddle\" signifies, in slang or common language,\nto \"do\"--to \"get the better of\"--\"to cheat,\" and that so the words\nintend to convey the moral of the whole story; namely, that those who\ntry to cheat others generally suffer for it in some way or other.\nAnother interpretation is that it is only another form of the word\n\"Idyll,\" and that this song about the cat and dog is meant as a species\nof \"Idyll\" or \"Diddle,\" on one of the most important topics which has\never agitated the animal world. But, whatever be their origin, there\nthe words are, and they are the only words in the song which have\ncaused me the slightest doubt. They are the more curious if the story\nbe true that the song was composed by a very respectable jay, who was\nfully acquainted with the facts as they occurred.\n\n_She_ could have known nothing about \"Diddle,\" if he was a man; and\nvery likely only put the words in to suit the jingle of the rhyme.\nThere can be no doubt that \"the cat and the fiddle,\" are words in which\nis intended a satirical allusion to Effie's lessons on the violin with\nthe unfortunate hare; and \"the cow jumped over the moon,\" is an\nunmistakeable allusion to the cow's leap over the stream in which the\nimage of the moon was reflected at the moment.\n\nWhen I think of the palpable reference in the next words to the conduct\nof the little poodle who had accompanied Rover, and remember the\nunhappy magpie's attempt to avoid her well-deserved fate by attempting\nto impute her crime to the dish, I can have no difficulty whatever in\ncoming to the conclusion that it is upon Jenny's legend that this\nremarkable song has been founded.\n\nJudging, moreover, from the acknowledged antiquity of the legend, and\nthe extraordinary way in which the facts it relates seem to fit and\ndove-tail in with the circumstances we all know of as bearing upon the\ngeneral relations between cat and dog, I am inclined to strongly favour\nthe opinion that the story is the correct version of the first\nbeginning of the great and terrible schism which exists between the\nraces. It should be a warning to us human beings to be careful how we\nplace confidence either in dog or cat with regard to the other.\n\nIf a breakage occurs in my house, and the servant in whose department\nit has happened brings forward the not altogether unfamiliar statement\nthat \"the cat did it,\" I always suspect that some dog has probably\nwhispered it in his or her ear; and any imputation upon the conduct of\nmy dogs I invariably attribute to the suggestion of some old cat.\nStill, the world is wide enough for both races; and, looking at it from\na selfish point of view, their feud does not so much matter, so long as\nthey are both obedient and useful to mankind.\n\nWherefore, after I had heard Jenny's narrative, and duly rewarded her\nwith a carrot, I always used to go home and think how much we may all\nlearn from the habits of the different animals with which our world is\npeopled, and how their errors are in reality no greater than our own.\nFor I am sure I have before now heard people both sing and play the\nfiddle, without any more pretension than Effie to be able to do either;\nI have heard people boast of having done things quite as impossible as\nthat the cow should really have jumped over the moon; I have known\npeople over and over again laugh in the wrong place like the little\ndog, and call things sport which are nothing of the kind, and I have\nlistened to those who could accuse their neighbours of crimes just as\nunlikely as that which the magpie attributed to the dish.\n\nI will say no more, save that I hope it never happens _now_ among men\nand women, that husband and wife ever live in such a manner as to\njustify the description of their existence as being \"like Cat and Dog!\"\n\n\n\n\nOPHELIA.\n\n\nNext to an insane Giant there is nothing more terrible than a mad\nPigmy. It was therefore a dreadful event for all people concerned when\nthe King of the Pigmies went out of his senses. The disease came on\ngradually, and was not immediately discovered.\n\nHis majesty had never been of a very lively disposition, and the court\nwas therefore not much amazed when he withdrew from the public gaze,\nlittle by little, until he was very rarely visible beyond the precincts\nof the palace, and was understood to be deep in his studies. Those,\nhowever, who had the privilege of being immediately about his royal\nperson, were well aware that his majesty was seriously indisposed. At\nfirst the symptoms were only those of profound melancholy. He declined\nhis food repeatedly, refused to open his letters, buried his face\nconstantly in his hands, and went to bed when the dinner bell rang.\n\nThis was unpleasant, as the royal household were forbidden by the laws\nof that kingdom to have any dinner except at the same time with the\nking, and as pigmies are invariably blessed with good appetites, much\ninconvenience would have been caused but for the recognised fact that\nnobody ever obeyed the laws unless it happened to suit him to do so. In\nthis manner the difficulty was got over, and the illness of the king\nmight have been concealed from his people if no other symptoms had\nappeared. But from silent melancholy the unhappy monarch shortly passed\nto the stage of frantic violence.\n\nHe threw anything he could lay hands on at the head of any individual\nwho came near him, used the most fearful language, and gave the most\nextraordinary orders. These at first were evaded or received in silence\nin the hope they might be forgotten as soon as spoken. But when the\nking insisted upon it that the Prime Minister should be cut in pieces,\nthe Lord Chamberlain fed upon rabbit skins and oil, and the Chief\nJustice baked without further delay, these functionaries severally and\ntogether came to the conclusion that the thing could go no further.\n\nThe laws of Pigmyland were clear and well known; upon the death or\nincapacity through illness of the reigning sovereign, his eldest son\nalways ascended the throne as a matter of course, and, failing sons,\nhis nearest relative succeeded to the sceptre.\n\nUnfortunately, however, the King of the Pigmies had neither son nor\nrelative of any kind, which arose principally from the fact of his\nhaving destroyed his father's and mother's families, owing to those\njealous fears which often disturb and distract the minds of tyrants,\nand from the additional circumstance that he had never seen fit to\nmarry. Thus King Pugpoz was the last of his race, and although he was\nundoubtedly no longer fit to govern the nation, the question as to his\nsuccessor was, as will readily be imagined, one of very great doubt and\ndifficulty.\n\nThe three great officers of state, that is to say, the Prime Minister,\nthe Lord Chamberlain and the Chief Justice, who rejoiced in the ancient\nand highsounding names of Binks, Chinks and Pigspud, laid their heads\ntogether several times before they could by any means agree as to what\nshould be done. Each of them would have been willing to undertake the\ngovernment himself, and each thought that he was the best person to\nwhom it could possibly be entrusted. But the other two held quite a\ndifferent opinion. Chinks and Pigspud well knew that Binks, eaten up\nwith gout and rheumatism, was not a person whom the Pigmy nation would\never accept for their king: Pigspud and Binks were perfectly well aware\nthat Chinks had a wife and family, whose combined arrogance and\nextravagance would certainly ruin the kingdom if he were placed upon\nthe throne, and Binks and Chinks were thoroughly acquainted with the\nevil life which caused the public to regard Pigspud as one of the worst\nof men though the best of judges.\n\nSo, since it was evident that none of the three could be safely\nelevated to the throne, it became necessary to look about for somebody\nelse.\n\nThe names of all the great people about the court were duly considered,\nbut although there were several who would have been very willing to\nundertake the business, there were objections to all. One was too old,\nanother too idle, a third of too tyrannous a disposition, and a fourth\ntoo stupid for the place. So for a time it really seemed as if it would\nbe impossible to find a king, and that they must either put up with\ntheir mad sovereign or go without one altogether.\n\nNeither of these results, however, would have been satisfactory, either\nto the court or to the nation, and it was therefore with joy rather\nthan anger that the three great officers of state received the news\nthat a relation of the royal family had been discovered to exist, in\nwhom a successor to the unhappy madman might be found. This was the\nonly son of the king's uncle, who, having been cruelly treated by his\nfather in early youth, had left Pigmyland in disgust and had been\ncurrently reported to have died shortly afterwards. This, however, had\nnot been the case.\n\nPrince Famcram had done nothing of the kind, and had never intended to\nleave the world unless compelled to do so, by circumstances beyond his\ncontrol. He had embarked on board a vessel which was bound on a long\nvoyage, and had possibly cherished the hope that his absence from home\nwould soften his father's heart, and procure for him kinder treatment\nupon his return. It is impossible to say whether this might or might\nnot have been the result, inasmuch as the opportunity of proving the\nsame never occurred.\n\nIt was not long after the prince's flight, that his cousin the king\ntook it into his royal head to destroy all his blood relations, among\nwhom his uncle, the prince's father, naturally perished. When,\ntherefore, the young man next received news of his family, he learned\nthat there were none of them left alive except the royal destroyer of\nthe rest. This news, strange as it may appear, afforded him no\ninducement to return to the land of his nativity, for, dear as one's\ncountry should be to every well regulated mind, life is not\nunfrequently dearer still, and Prince Famcram was unable to discover\nany sufficient reason why he should imperil the one by visiting the\nother.\n\nHe stayed away, therefore, and lived as best he could in foreign lands,\nuntil the insanity of his cousin King Pugpoz had been officially\nproclaimed and publicly made known. Then, having no longer any fear for\nhis life, he returned to Pigmyland without delay, and at once advanced\nhis claim to the sovereignty.\n\nThere were, as is usual in such cases, some persons who pretended to\ndoubt his identity and declared that he was only an impostor. The\nevidence in his favour was, however, too strong for these disloyal and\nworthless persons.\n\nThe prince had all the characteristics of his noble family. His hair\nwas of a bright, staring red; he squinted frightfully with both eyes,\nhad one leg considerably shorter than the other, and was gifted with a\nprotuberance between his shoulders which was not far removed from a\nhump. He had, moreover, the family dislike to cold water, a strong\npropensity to drink spirits, and a temper which of itself was enough to\nstamp him as one of the royal line which he claimed to represent. Add\nto this, that his language was by no means well chosen or polite, that\nhis disposition was cowardly and cruel, and that he cared for nobody in\nthe world but himself, and you have a fair and accurate picture of the\nprince upon whose head the crown of the unhappy Pugpoz was about to\ndescend.\n\nIt may readily be inferred that the prospects of Pigmyland did not seem\nto have been much brightened by the change. Indeed, between a mad king\nand a bad king the difference appeared so small to some people that\nthey were unable to see what the country had gained by the substitution\nof the one for the other. Nevertheless, the unswerving devotion to\nroyalty which has always distinguished Pigmies did not fail that mighty\nnation upon the present occasion.\n\nFamcram was welcomed by the voice of the people, and those who doubted\nhis identity were got rid of as soon as possible. His first act,\nindeed, put beyond doubt the righteous nature of his claim. He directed\nPugpoz to be immediately strangled, partly to avenge the death of his\nrelatives, and partly because he thought it a safer and more\nsatisfactory arrangement that any chance of his returning to a sane\ncondition of mind should at once be destroyed.\n\nBeing now undeniably the only legitimate claimant to the throne of his\nancestors, he determined to enjoy himself as much as he possibly could.\n\nThere were considerable treasures in the royal coffers, which had been\namassed by Pugpoz and his predecessors, and with which King Famcram\nmight have purchased as much enjoyment as would have served him for a\nprolonged life-time. Being, however, of opinion that to be merry at\nother people's expense is by far the best plan if you can possibly\nmanage it, he gave out that he expected the principal grandees of the\ncountry to entertain him at banquets, balls, croquet and lawn-tennis\nparties, and in order to encourage them in their endeavours to out-do\neach other in pleasing their beloved monarch, he declared his intention\nof marrying the daughter of the nobleman who, at the end of the next\nsix months, should have best succeeded in that laudable attempt. The\ninfluence of such a promise was of course prodigious.\n\nTo be the father-in-law of the king was an object well worth the\nattainment, and every great man throughout the length and breadth of\nthe country felt his heart beat high at the royal announcement. Some\nindeed there were, who, having no daughters, were not particularly\nimpressed by the circumstance, and spoke of the whole affair as a whim\nof the monarch to which slight importance was to be attached. Others,\nwho, having seen the manner in which the late king had disposed of his\nrelations, doubted the advantage of becoming too closely connected with\nthe royal family, proposed to themselves to take no particular pains to\nsurpass their neighbours in the attempt to please King Famcram. But, to\ntell the truth, the great majority of those who heard the royal\ndetermination, and who happened to have marriageable daughters,\nreceived the news with great delight, and determined to spare no\nexertion which might secure such a son-in-law for themselves.\n\nConspicuous among these would-be competitors for the prize were the\nthree great officials, Binks, Chinks, and Pigspud. Each was married,\nand none was daughterless. To all three, therefore, the field was open,\nand hope beat high in their official breasts.\n\nSince they first heard of the arrival and claims of Famcram, the three\nstatesmen had unitedly and steadily welcomed and supported him. They\nhad therefore some claims upon the royal gratitude, and hitherto their\ninterests had been so far identical that they had been able to work\ntogether. Now, however, the interests of each were opposed to those of\nthe other two.\n\nAccording to the laws of Pigmyland, the king could only marry one wife,\nand therefore his selection of the daughter of either of the three\nministers would at once throw the others in the shade, and place the\nfather of the bride in a position far superior to that of the other\ntwo. This circumstance, as might have been expected, caused some slight\ninterruption of the harmony which had hitherto prevailed between these\nthree illustrious personages. At first, however, the only intention of\neach of them was honestly to outdo the other two in the splendour of\nthe reception which he should afford his sovereign. To Binks, as Prime\nMinister, fell the first opportunity, and King Famcram gave him due\nnotice that he should shortly honour him with a visit to his villa,\nwhich was situate near the Pigmy metropolis.\n\nNow it so chanced that Binks was a widower, principally in consequence\nof his wife having died, and of his having thought it unnecessary to\nseek another. He had, however, two fair daughters, gems of their sex,\nand bright ornaments of the court of Pigmydom.\n\nEuphemia was above the height ordinarily allotted to her race, and\ncould not have been less than three feet and a half high. Her nose was\naquiline, her cheeks flushed with the red blossom of youth, her eyes\ndark and piercing, her figure all that could be desired, and her voice\nclear as a lover's lute in a still evening.\n\nAraminta, less tall than her sister, had a delicacy of complexion\nunrivalled in Pigmyland; her blue eyes were modestly cast down if you\naccosted her. She spoke in tones soft and low like the south wind\nwhispering in the mulberry-trees, and whilst her sister took your heart\nby storm, she stole into it unawares, and made you captive before you\nknew you were in danger.\n\nSuch is the description of the two daughters of the noble house of\nBinks, as given by a Pigmy writer of eminence at that time, and such\nwere the charms against which King Famcram had to contend at the\nbeginning of the campaign. The Prime Minister had intended that his\nentertainment should take the shape of a banquet; but the ladies\ninsisted upon a ball, and a ball it was consequently to be. Immense\npreparations were made for days, nay, for weeks beforehand. The villa\nwas gorgeously decorated, the ball-room tastefully arranged, the\nchoicest music was provided, and no pains spared to ensure the desired\nsuccess. At last the day arrived, and the hearts of Binks and his\ndaughters beat high with expectation.\n\nThe villa was beautifully placed upon the slope of a mountain, at the\nfoot of which a broad river wound through flowery meads and fertile\nfields, enriching and beautifying both in its onward course. The\ngrounds of the villa stretching along the banks of the river, were\nbeautiful to a degree seldom seen out of Pigmyland, and never had they\nappeared to greater advantage than on the present occasion. Gay flags\nstreamed from staffs placed in the most conspicuous positions as well\nas from many of the tallest of the trees which abounded in those\nmagnificent gardens; sounds of lively music were wafted upon the soft\nsummer breeze to the entranced ear of the listener; and every heart was\nfilled with rejoicing and merriment.\n\nKing Famcram was received at the entrance by a crowd of well-dressed\ncourtiers and obsequious attendants, who awaited his coming with all\nthat exuberant loyalty which is pre-eminently characteristic of the\ntrue Pigmy. He appeared somewhat late, as was in those days always\ndeemed becoming in royal personages, and his coming was announced by\nthe enthusiastic cheers of the dense crowd which thronged the\napproaches to the garden gates.\n\nSeated in the hereditary coach of the Pigmy monarchs, drawn by eight\ncream-coloured guinea-pigs, and clad in rich garments of various hue,\nFamcram drew near to the habitation of the honoured Binks. In his hand\nhe held the ancient sceptre of his race, which was nothing less than\nthe petrified skull of an early occupant of the Pigmy throne, who had\nby his will left his head to be devoted to this purpose, and directed\nthat it should be rivetted in gold settings upon his favourite\nwalking-stick, and further ornamented by such gifts as his faithful\nsubjects might choose to bestow out of respect for the memory of their\ndeceased lord. As his successors, each upon his accession to the\nthrone, invited new gifts to the sceptre as a test of continuous\nloyalty and devotion to the throne, the head of the dead king had\npractically brought greater wealth to his family than it had ever done\nduring his life-time, and although an additional precious stone or two\nwas set in the skull after each recurrence of gifts, the greater\nportion of these were, it was more than supposed, converted into cash\nby the various monarchs who received them, and appropriated to their\nown royal purposes. This valuable weapon King Famcram waved in his hand\nas he neared his prime minister's dwelling, and looked round upon his\npeople with a proud and kingly gaze as he passed along.\n\nBinks, as was but natural, met his royal master at the gate, and\nprepared to escort him up the avenue to the door of the villa, across a\nprofusion of flowers with which the way thereto was covered.\n\nFamcram alighted from his carriage, and suffered his host to conduct\nhim through the great gates, and to go bowing and scraping before him\nup the avenue. He followed, squinting around him in a friendly manner,\nand graciously expressing his approval of the beauty of the place. But\nas soon as he had reached the stone steps which led up to the villa\ndoor, the latter was thrown open, and, one on each side of the doorway,\nstood the two daughters of the ancient house of Binks, clad in gorgeous\nattire, and each holding in her hand a magnificent bouquet of the\nchoicest flowers, which it was their intention to humbly offer to their\naugust sovereign, and which they lost not a moment in presenting.\nScarcely, however, had Famcram set eyes upon the sisters and perceived\ntheir intention, than he positively snorted with disgust, and starting\nhastily backwards, (during which process he planted his heel firmly\nupon the gouty toe of his Prime Minister,) he turned round fiercely\nupon the latter and accused him of having intended to poison him:\n\n\"Wretch!\" he cried, \"there is poison in those flowers which your\ndaughters--if such they be--offer to me, and doubtless it has not been\nplaced there without the knowledge and consent of their vile parent. I\nknow it but too well. Make no excuses, for they will all be useless.\nThe nose of a Pigmy of the royal race is never mistaken. My\ngreat-great-grandfather was poisoned by a subtle venom concealed in a\ncarnation, and in the similar flowers which are conspicuous in each of\nthe bouquets I see before me, I detect the fate you had in store for\nyour sovereign. But you shall bitterly rue it! Seize him, guard!\"\n\nThe unhappy Binks, overcome with astonishment and terror, in vain\nraised his voice to protest that nothing was further from his thoughts\nthan to perpetrate such a terrible crime as that which the king\nsuspected--and that, too, against a prince whose cause he had espoused\nfrom the first, and in whose favour his whole hopes were placed. He\nvowed that his daughters were certainly as innocent as he was, and\nimplored that the bouquets might be carefully examined, in order to\nprove that no poisonous substance had been placed therein. It was all\nto no purpose. Famcram only flew into a still more violent passion.\n\n\"No poison in the flowers!\" he cried. \"The villain doubts his king's\nnose and his king's words! Off with him, guards, at once; and let his\ndaughters be taken too!\"\n\nAt these words Euphemia and Araminta, who had listened with awe-struck\ncountenances and beating hearts to the extraordinary remarks of the\nking, gave utterance to wild shrieks, and fell fainting upon the\ndoorway, from which they were speedily dragged by the king's orders,\nand hurried away, with their unhappy father, to the dungeons of the\npalace.\n\nHaving thus got rid of his host and hostess, Famcram allowed himself to\ncalm down gradually, and, entering the ball-room, permitted those to\ndance who wished to do so, whilst he himself proceeded without delay to\nthe supper-room, and made himself as comfortable as possible. He then\ndirected all the plate and valuables of the luckless Binks to be packed\nup and taken to the palace; and, having placed a guard over the villa,\nwhich he declared should in future be a royal residence, he departed,\nwith the satisfactory feeling of having made a good night's work of it.\n\nWhen news of what had been done reached Chinks, the soul of the Lord\nChamberlain was greatly exercised thereat. He did not for a moment\nimagine that Binks or his daughters had been guilty of the crime\nimputed to them by their royal master; but in the acts of the latter he\ndiscerned a steady determination to possess himself of the wealth of\nhis richest subjects, and to reign more absolutely and despotically\nthan his predecessors.\n\nHow to escape the fate of Binks was a problem by no means easy of\nsolution. He was blessed with three daughters, Asphalia, Bettina, and\nParaphernalia, so much alike that they could not be known apart, and so\nbeautiful that nobody could see them without immediately becoming\ndevoted to them. In these damsels Chinks placed his hopes, and could\nnot but believe that the king, however hardly he had dealt with his\nPrime Minister, would not be insensible to the charms of his Lord\nChamberlain's daughters. Still, he received with some fear and\ntrembling the notice which Famcram shortly sent him, that he would\nvisit him at his country house in the following week.\n\nAs the selection of a ball had not turned out well in the case of\nBinks, the Chinks family resolved upon another sort of entertainment,\nand at vast expense hired a celebrated conjuror to perform before the\nsovereign and his court.\n\nThe preparations were great--the company numerous--the weather all that\ncould be desired, and the monarch, with his attendant courtiers,\narrived in due time at the house, and was ushered into the spacious\nhall, where everything had been arranged for his reception. The three\ndaughters of the house, dressed exactly alike, were there to receive\nhim; but not a flower was to be seen about any of them, so that the\nfatal error of the Prime Minister's children might be avoided. They\nwere dressed simply, and reverently knelt before the king as they\nraised their voices to sing (in tones as true as they were sweet) an\node which their father had himself composed in honour of his\nsovereign's visit.\n\nScarcely, however, had they finished the first verse, when the little\ntyrant roared out at the top of his voice--\n\n\"They sing out of tune! they sing out of tune! A royal ear is never\ndeceived! He has made them do it because he knows I cannot bear a false\nnote. Seize him, guards! away with him and his shabbily-dressed girls!\"\n\nChinks stepped forward to explain matters in his most courtly fashion,\nwhen the king brought down his sceptre upon his head with such a\n\"thwack,\" that you might have heard it at the other end of the hall,\nand, though his wig, which was particularly large, partially saved him,\nhe dropped senseless upon the floor, whilst his daughters broke into\nshrieks of despair which were really out of tune, and were painful\nindeed to hear.\n\nFamcram stopped his ears, and howled loudly for his guard, and before\nmany minutes had passed, the Lord Chamberlain and his daughters were on\ntheir way to the same dungeons whither Binks and his girls had preceded\nthem, and the king was occupied in selecting everything in the house\nwhich appeared to be most costly and beautiful, and directing that it\nshould be forthwith sent to his palace.\n\nThus within a few days were two out of the three great functionaries of\nthe kingdom dismissed, disgraced, and left in great peril of their\nlives, whilst the king had added considerably to his wealth, and had\ngot rid of two people whom he had either suspected or pretended to\nsuspect of being likely to be troublesome.\n\nThese events made a profound impression upon the mind of Pigspud, and\nall the more so when notice came from the king that he should pay him a\nvisit in the following week. The Lord Chief Justice was a wily and\nastute man. Although his life had not been reputable, the peccadilloes\nof great lawyers in that country were so usual as to be regarded by the\npublic with a lenient eye, and, late in life, his appearance had become\nso eminently respectable, that a stranger would certainly have taken\nhim for a dean rather than for a judge, for a deep divine rather than\nfor a learned lawyer.\n\nHe had but one daughter. Tall, majestic of stature (for she was nearly\nfour feet high), and with dark hair and eyes so bright that they seemed\nto look right through you, Ophelia Pigspud was a most remarkable woman.\nShe was well read; so well read that people said she could have passed\nan examination with credit in almost any subject she had been pleased\nto try. Reading, in fact, was no effort to her, and her powers of\nmemory were extraordinarily great. It was even said that she knew more\nof law than many lawyers of the day, whilst no one could deny her skill\nin modern languages, and her astonishing proficiency in general\nliterature.\n\nAs the venerable Chief Justice gazed upon his child, who was indeed the\npride of his heart, he could not but feel uneasy at the prospect of her\nbeing sent to join the families of Binks and Chinks in the dungeons of\nthe royal palace.\n\n\"Never,\" he exclaimed, \"shall such a fate befall my peerless Ophelia!\"\n\nAnd having given utterance to this exalted sentiment, he thought for\nthree days and three nights how to carry it out, and utterly failed to\ndiscover anything at all likely to succeed. Then he bethought himself\nof consulting the young lady herself, of whose opinion he thought so\nhighly that it is curious he had not done so before.\n\nShe smiled calmly when he laid the case before her, reminding her at\nthe same time that there wanted but three more days to the time fixed\nby the king for his visit.\n\n\"Be not alarmed, my beloved father,\" said she, \"but be assured that the\nblood of a true Pigspud will not be untrue to itself in the coming\ntrial. Besides, the education which your kind care has provided for me,\nhas taught me means of escape from even worse dangers than those which\ncan proceed from our tyrannical sovereign. Doubt not that it will turn\nout well.\"\n\nWith such reassuring words did the daughter of the Chief Justice\nrestore courage to the heart of her parent, and he began to look\nforward with less fear to the banquet at which it had been arranged\nthat he should entertain his royal master. It was to be served in the\nlarge banqueting hall of his town house, and great preparations were\nset on foot for several days before that appointed for the festive\ngathering. But instead of busying herself about the matter, Ophelia\ntreated it as if it was one wholly indifferent to her, and refused to\nbe troubled about it in any way whatever. It was in vain that the\ndomestics, who were accustomed to take all orders from her, besought\nher to give various directions upon different questions which arose.\nShe declined altogether; deputing everything to Mrs. Brushemup, the\nhousekeeper; and telling old Winelees, the butler, not to come near her\non pain of instant dismissal.\n\nHer own rooms were in a wing of the house which stretched down to the\nbanks of the river already mentioned, and from a private door she could\nget down upon the banks without coming in sight of the windows of the\nprincipal apartments.\n\nBut before I relate that which happened to the fair Ophelia at this\neventful time, it is but right to inquire what had become of the\nunhappy families who had already felt the weight of the tyrant\nFamcram's displeasure. Binks, with his two, and Chinks, with his three\ndaughters, had been cast into the dungeons of the Royal Palace, and the\nwife of Chinks having been added to the party, greatly increased the\nmisery of all by her continual upbraidings of her husband and his\nfriend as the cause of the misfortune which had befallen their two\nfamilies, which were all the more hard to bear, because they were\ntotally unreasonable and without foundation.\n\nThe dungeons were small, hot, and unsavoury, and the prisoners suffered\ngreatly, especially as the food supplied to them was scanty in quantity\nand wretched in quality. The young ladies endeavoured to pass away the\ntime in composing epitaphs upon their parents and themselves, which\nafter all did but little towards raising their spirits, being, as such\nthings not uncommonly are, of a somewhat melancholy character. Euphemia\nand Araminta, however, were so proud of one of their compositions, that\nit would be a pity that it should be lost to the world:--\n\n    \"Here lies the minister, great Binks,\n    No more he for his country thinks;\n    No more he eats--no more he drinks--\n    But, conquered by misfortune, sinks.\"\n\nThe daughters of the Lord Chamberlain were scarcely equal to such a\npoetic effort as the above; but, determined not to be behindhand,\npresented their parent with the following stanza:--\n\n    \"Look through these bars with eye of lynx,\n    And see the chamberlain, Lord Chinks!\n    He scarce can breathe, and feebly winks,\n    Quite done to death by prison stinks.\"\n\nIn this manner did the innocent maidens endeavour to lighten the hours\nof captivity which passed over their heads, and when, upon the second\nweek of their imprisonment, they were moved into larger and more airy\napartments, hope at once revived within their drooping bosoms. It must,\nhowever, be confessed, that in the midst of their distress both Binks\nand Chinks contemplated with silent but real satisfaction the probably\nspeedy advent of Pigspud to join them in their prison, and share their\nsorrows. This event they both regarded as quite certain to occur, and\nwithout having any particular ill-feeling towards the Chief Justice,\nthe three had been too long in the position of rivals to make either\ntwo sorry for any misfortune that befell the third, especially if it\nhad previously fallen upon themselves.\n\nLeaving these worthies to their expectations, we will now endeavour to\ndiscover what was passing at the abode of Pigspud. It was the evening\nbut one before the projected banquet. The shades of evening were fast\nclosing in around the city, and the mists of the river were beginning\nto rise like vapoury spirits from the water, when the private door of\nOphelia's wing was stealthily and quietly opened, and a figure emerged,\nclothed from head to foot in a cloak of dark gray. Slowly but surely,\nas one who knew the road well, the figure passed along the low\nterrace-walk that led down to the bank of the river, and stood at the\nbrink, silently for a few moments, and then began to murmur words in a\nlow tone. A listener, however attentive, could scarcely have made out\nthe meaning of that which Ophelia (for it was none other than the\ndaughter of the house of Pigspud) was reciting, for the language in\nwhich she spoke was strange, and her tone somewhat indistinct;--\n\n    \"Marley-quarley-pachel-farley,\n    Mansto macken furlesparley,\n    Mondo pondo sicho pinto,\n    Framsigalen hannotinto.\"\n\nSuch were the mystic words which issued from the lips of the maiden.\nNor was it long before a response was given. A low murmuring sound\nproceeded from the river, and out of the rushes which fringed the bank\nthere presently arose a form of strange and weird appearance. It was\nthat of an old, a very old woman, with a red cloak wrapped around her,\nan umbrella in her hand, and a poke bonnet upon the top of her head.\nShe was small, though not much below the ordinary height of a Pigmy;\nbut the most remarkable thing about her was the extreme keenness of her\neye, which seemed to pierce you through and through when she fixed it\nupon you. Slowly she rose from among the rushes, and scrambled, somehow\nor other, up the bank, until she stood opposite to the maiden who had\nsummoned her. As soon as she had accomplished this feat, she struck her\numbrella upon the ground, and remarked in a somewhat masculine tone of\nvoice:\n\n    \"What is it, Ophelia, and what do you fear,\n    That you've called your affectionate godmother here?\n    Has your 'Pa' been unkind? (since no 'Ma' you have got),\n    Or a lover appeared when you'd rather he'd _not_?\n    Are you ill, or unhappy, or is't for a freak\n    That your godmother's presence you suddenly seek?\"\n\nOphelia listened with respectful attention whilst the old woman uttered\nthese words, and then replied in a low, sweet voice:--\n\n    \"Did I not deem the crisis grave\n    I had not called thee from thy wave:\n    And if in doing so I err,\n    Forgive me, gracious godmother!\n    My father knows thee not, great dame;\n    My mother told me, all the same,\n    Thou _wast_ my godmother, and so\n    I love thee in my weal and woe.\n    O'ercome by cruel destiny,\n    Poor Binks and Chinks in dungeons lie,\n    And our bad king--a grievous sin--\n    Hath likewise put their daughters in.\n    Dear godmother! 'twere sad, you know,\n    My father should to prison go;\n    But sadder still (you'll hardly fail\n    To see) that _I_ should go to gaol.\n    Yet is the time but two days hence\n    When Famcram comes; on some pretence\n    He'll surely send us both to pris'n,\n    And make _our_ valuables hisn.\n    Dear Godmother! Pray leave thy wave\n    Thy loving god-daughter to save,\n    Or tell me how, by thy kind aid,\n    The tyrant's power I may evade!\"\n\nWhilst Ophelia was speaking, the old woman kept tapping her umbrella\nupon the ground in visible wrath, and a frown appearing upon her face,\nwhich was otherwise not particularly beautiful, did not greatly improve\nher personal appearance. As soon as the maiden ceased, she lost not a\nmoment in making her reply:--\n\n    \"I'm ready, my darling, to do your behest,\n    For tyrants like Famcram I greatly detest,\n    And if your good father was not such a dolt,\n    From the land of the despot he'd speedily bolt.\n    For Binks and for Chinks I have nothing to say,\n    And they're probably just as well out of the way;\n    But as to their daughters--I'm really inclined\n    To think that the king has gone out of his mind,\n    And in _your_ case, I'll teach him, as well as I can,\n    A woman has rights just as much as a man,\n    And he's vastly mistaken, poor wretch, if he thinks\n    A god-child of mine is the same as Miss Binks.\n    Now listen to me: when King Famcram comes here,\n    Betray not the slightest suspicion of fear,\n    But enter, quite calmly, the banqueting room\n    Arrayed in your commonest morning costume.\n    He'll show irritation; and rage, beyond doubt\n    (You know he could scarcely be royal without);\n    But never mind _that_, tho' he rages meanwhile,\n    Bestow on the fool a contemptuous smile;\n    In spite of his anger, continue the same,\n    And ask 'If he isn't content, why he came?'\n    Whate'er he replies, pray be careful of this,\n    And do not one word or one syllable miss;\n    As soon as he threatens, stand just as you are,\n    But hold up before him this earthenware jar,\n    Remarking, 'King Famcram, determined I am\n    To ask you to taste of my raspberry jam.'\n    He'll do it--he must--since, the truth for to tell,\n    This jar carries with it a wonderful spell;\n    And when I've said o'er it the words I'll now say,\n    Whoever you choose will acknowledge your sway.\n    While kept in your hand (not a difficult task)\n    Each person you speak to will do what you ask;\n    And once the jam tasted, you'll have for your slave\n    King Famcram, and teach him the way to behave.\n    But keep the jar safe, for, broken or chipped,\n    Of your spell and your sway you'll be speedily stripped.\"\n\nWith these words the old lady, who, whilst speaking, had pulled out of\nsome pocket or other, or else from the folds of her umbrella, a small\njar, now held it aloft in her hand and displayed it before the eyes of\nOphelia. As soon as she had done so for as long a time as she thought\nfit, she stuck her umbrella firmly into the ground, and holding the jar\nimmediately over it, pronounced certain mystic and fearful words, which\nno mortal of ordinary nature could utter, much less write, and which\nthere is the less reason to mention, because if they were written or\nuttered, no child of man could possibly understand them. But when she\nhad finished this fearful muttering to herself, she spoke out more\nloudly, addressing herself thus to the jar and its contents:\n\n    \"Jar! possessed of mighty spell,\n    Do thy work, and do it well.\n    Serve Ophelia night and day--\n    Famcram bring beneath her sway.\n    Jam! do duty day and night;\n    Tempt the royal appetite--\n    Be to Famcram wine and meat,\n    Bring him to Ophelia's feet;\n    Cause him eagerly to crave\n    Life but as Ophelia's slave;\n    Bow him humbly, bring him down,\n    At her footstool place his crown,\n    And, thy mission to fulfil,\n    Let him live but by her will.\"\n\nHaving finished her incantation, and repeated these lines in a voice\nsufficiently distinct, though not unlike the croak of a raven, the old\nwoman now turned once more to Ophelia, as if to ascertain whether she\nhad anything more to say. The maiden smiled sweetly upon her, and at\nonce expressed her thanks in the following words:--\n\n    \"Dear godmother! how good thou art!\n    The burden now has left my heart,\n    Which like a weight has bowed me down\n    With fear of tyrant Famcram's frown.\n    Well do I know 'twere hard to find\n    A councillor more wise and kind;\n    And, with thy might and magic aid\n    No longer shall I feel afraid.\n    I'll use the jar and jam as told,\n    And very tight the former hold,\n    And when King Famcram is subdued\n    I, with this magic power imbued,\n    Will make him slave--and let him know it--\n    And ne'er forget to whom I owe it!\"\n\nSo speaking, Ophelia held out her hand for the promised jar, when the\nold woman, making a stride forward, placed it in her hands, and then,\nthrowing both her arms round the maiden, clasped her tightly in a long\nand loving embrace with which she could very well have dispensed.\nGratitude, however, for the immense favour which she was about to\nreceive at the hands of her excellent godmother, prevented her from\ndisclosing the repugnance which she probably felt at the vehemence of\nthe old lady's affection, and having endured it with silent fortitude,\nshe took the jar into her hands, and, bidding her companion a\nrespectful farewell, forthwith re-entered the private door through\nwhich she had come, and shortly disappeared within the house.\n\nThe old woman then took up her umbrella, and slowly descending the bank\nof the river to the rushes from which she had emerged, speedily became\ninvisible. The shades of night closed in, and darkness soon set its\nseal upon the Pigmy capital and nation.\n\nThe Chief Justice did not see his daughter that evening, and although\nhe had great confidence in her sagacity, talents, and resources, it\nmust be confessed that he rose next morning with a heavy heart. In all\nprobability, he thought, it was his last day of office, and not only of\noffice, but of freedom. With the fate of the Prime Minister and the\nLord Chamberlain before his eyes, how could he possibly hope to escape?\nFor a moment the thought of flight crossed his mind, but was as\ninstantly banished. His hopes, his wealth, his relations, his\nhome--everything that could make life pleasant was fixed and centred in\nhis native country, and at his age no change was to be thought of or\ncould be endured. And then, where could he fly to, and how escape from\nthe tyrant's spies?\n\nNo: the thought was madness--the event, be it what it might, must be\nencountered: the morrow must come in its due course, and, after all,\nhe, a lawyer, a statesman and a philosopher, ought to be able to put up\nwith his fate at least as well as other people.\n\nWhile the worthy Pigspud thus mused upon the melancholy prospect before\nhim, he was interrupted by the approach of his daughter, the calmness\nof whose countenance and demeanour was certainly calculated to reassure\nher anxious parent. However, although she spoke hopefully and bade the\nold man take courage and be sure that things would turn out better than\nhe expected, she told him not one word about her secret interview of\nthe previous evening, or of the powerful assistance she had procured.\n\nSo the old gentleman passed but a sad day, and could only console\nhimself by resolving to be loyal to the last to his sovereign, and to\nprovide him an entertainment of which he should not be ashamed.\n\nVast, indeed, were the preparations made for that banquet. So many\ndelicacies had probably not been collected together for one repast\nwithin the memory of man. Nothing was omitted. From the oysters with\nwhich each guest was to be furnished at the beginning, down to the\nliqueurs at the end of the feast, everything was there, and everything\nwas in perfection.\n\nPigspud had even hired a special poet to compose and recite an ode in\npraise of the King, but there were doubts expressed as to the complete\nsuccess of the composition, confined as it was to the doings of the\ntable, and celebrating dishes which were made to tickle the palate by\ntheir taste rather than the ear by their well-sung praises. The ode\nbegan,--\n\n    \"Come servants all, the table put on\n    Well-roasted beef and tender mutton.\n    Guests, down your throats white veal and lamb cram,\n    And drink the health of good King Famcram!\n    Consume the oaten cakes and wheat-bread,\n    The calves-foot jelly and the sweet-bread,\n    And own the table splendid, that is\n    So well supplied with oyster-patties.\"\n\nThere was much more of this, in a similar strain, but in the confusion\nthat afterwards followed, and in the interesting events which I shall\npresently have to chronicle, the ode itself was lost, and as no copies\ncould be afterwards obtained, I am unable to supply the rest of it to\nthe anxious reader. With regard to the entertainment, generally, there\nwas certainly no fault to be found.\n\nOld Winelees and Mrs. Brushemup had surpassed themselves, and the\nconfectioners, cooks and pastrycooks to whom had been assigned the\nduties connected with the preparation of the affair, had exerted\nthemselves beyond all praise.\n\nThe decorations were gorgeous, and everything appeared to have been\narranged with such care and good taste, and with such an utter\ndisregard of expense, that there were not wanting many, even among\nthose who were acquainted (as who was not) with the upshot of the\nefforts made by the Prime Minister and the Lord Chamberlain to do\nhonour to their sovereign, who prophesied a greater success and even a\ntriumphant result to the Chief Justice. The hour drew near at which\nFamcram was expected, and ere long the distant trumpets heralded his\napproach. The mob cheered him lustily along the streets, not because he\nwas popular, but because he was handsomely dressed, had his crown upon\nhis head and the famous sceptre in his hand, which facts were quite\nsufficient to justify a mob in cheering anybody.\n\nNearer and nearer his carriage drew, and at last stopped before the\ndoor of Pigspud's mansion. Then, after one last loud flourish, the\ntrumpets ceased to sound. The king alighted to his feet. The Chief\nJustice received him kneeling on one knee.\n\nFamcram bowed coldly, glanced right and left, and then slowly entered\nthe banqueting room, while his host tremblingly followed behind, his\nheart balanced between hope and fear, but much, it must be owned,\ninclining to the latter. The king paused at the entrance of the room.\nEverything was so beautifully arranged that it was difficult to find\nfault, even for one who was determined to do so. The flowers, the\nfruit, the flags, the garlands, the decorations which met his eye were\nall so splendid, that those who saw them, and knew at the same time\nthat the tyrant was certain to find some occasion to carry out his\npurpose, marvelled within themselves, what cause for fault-finding he\ncould possibly discover, or what excuse he would be able to invent for\nhis action.\n\nThey had not long to marvel, however, for the next moment the eyes of\nall were turned upon Ophelia, who came sauntering down the room,\nbetween the tables, very leisurely, even carelessly, and advanced\ntowards the king.\n\nShe was dressed in her morning dress of an unpretending brown colour,\nfitting closely to the figure, and unadorned by ornament of any kind\nsave a steel chatelaine, from which hung sundry useful articles,\nscissors, thimble, needlecase and the like; but which added to the\nsuspicion which her general appearance created, that she had merely\nwalked from her sitting-room to the banquetting-hall without any change\nof toilet in honour of the king.\n\nThis was quite enough for Famcram, and furnished him with an excuse for\nanger against his Chief Justice, far more legitimate than those which\nhad been made the pretext for the punishment of his two brother\nofficials. The king lost no time in flying into a violent passion.\n\n\"What ho!\" he cried, in as loud a voice as his anger would permit him\nto raise. \"What bold hussey is this who comes to meet her sovereign in\ncommon everyday garments? What malapert conduct have we here?\" and he\nstrutted forward puffing and fuming like a turkey-cock.\n\nOphelia, who had learned her lesson well, and knew how much depended\nupon it, paid not the smallest attention to the anger of the king, but\nadvanced towards him with the same careless step, and a contemptuous\nsmile upon her countenance. Of course this made matters worse, and the\nunhappy Pigspud trembled in his shoes in dire anticipation of what\nwould follow, whilst the courtiers and attendants opened their eyes\nwider than they had ever done at the strange conduct of the infatuated\nmaiden.\n\nThe sight of the smile upon the maiden's face incensed Famcram to a\nstill greater degree. He stamped violently upon the floor, and turning\nto the Chief Justice demanded in imperious tones what was the meaning\nof this insult.\n\n\"Who is it?\" he cried, \"who is this brazen-faced daughter of a demon\nwho dares to come thus into our presence?\"\n\nThe unhappy Pigspud in trembling tones admitted that it was his own\ndaughter.\n\n\"Your daughter?\" exclaimed the king, with a smile or rather grin in\nwhich fury, triumph and revenge contended for the mastery. \"It is then\nin your house and by your daughter that I am thus treated? I will deal\nwith you presently, Chief Justice. What do you mean, hussey, by this\nshameful impudence?\"\n\nTo the surprise of the king himself and of every person present,\nOphelia actually yawned whilst the monarch was speaking, and when he\nhad concluded, kept smiling upon him with palpable contempt, and\nglancing round at the decorations and beautiful objects right and left\nof her, remarked in a languid, drawling tone--\"If you are not content,\nKing Famcram, why did you come?\"\n\nThis filled up the measure of her iniquity, and drove the king nearly\nmad. Half beside himself with rage, he seemed to those about him to\nfoam at the mouth as he spluttered forth his furious answer.\n\n\"Vile wench! you and your father shall suffer for this! You shall, by\nall that a Pigmy holds dear I swear it. The fate of Binks and Chinks\nshall be paradise to _your_ lot, you wretched scum of the earth. Ho!\nguard, seize these traitors at once, and have the lowest and darkest\ndungeon made ready for them without delay!\"\n\nA groan burst from the lips of the unfortunate Pigspud as the royal\nlips pronounced these words, for in them he naturally saw the\nrealisation of his worst fears. But before one of the guards could move\nhand or foot, the fair Ophelia, with the same smile continuously upon\nher lips, took a step or two forward, and, holding out in her hand the\nlittle jar of which we know--but of the existence of which everyone\npresent was profoundly ignorant, said in a remarkably calm and clear\nvoice--\n\n    \"Pray listen: King Famcram, determined I am\n    To ask you to taste of my raspberry jam!\"\n\nScarcely were the words out of her mouth when a perceptible change came\nover the face, voice, and manner of Famcram. The first turned ghastly\nwhite; the second sank to a low whisper; and the third lost all its\nviolence, and became as quiet as the manner of a sheep when in the\nhands of its executioner.\n\nOne shiver passed over the king's frame, as if there was a strong\ninternal struggle; but it was over in a moment. Murmuring something so\nindistinctly that no one was quite sure what he said, but apparently\nsomething about \"not liking to refuse a lady,\" he shuffled forward to\nmeet Ophelia, whilst the crowd around was plunged in the deepest\namazement at his strange and altered conduct.\n\nThe maiden, as he approached, took a small silver salt-spoon from the\ntable near her, scooped out of her jar a good spoonful of the jam, and\nheld it to Famcram's mouth. He meekly received the spoon therein, and\ndevoured the jam without a word, good, bad, or indifferent. The next\nmoment he grovelled--literally grovelled--at Ophelia's feet, covering\nthem with kisses, and vowing that he was her slave for life.\n\nThe people could hardly believe their eyes, and looked at each other as\nif they felt that they must all be in a dream, or suffering from some\noptical delusion, and that it could not be a reality which was passing\nbefore them. But Ophelia took it all quite as a matter of course.\n\nShe ordered Famcram, in haughty tones, to kneel on all fours, and as\nsoon as he had done so, she sat down upon him with the greatest\ncalmness.\n\nWonder upon wonders! The tyrant, who had shown every disposition to\ntreat his people like miserable slaves, seemed now to be reduced to\nmore abject slavery than the meanest of his vassals.\n\nA moment before, he was uttering threats of vengeance against his host;\nnow, he was prostrate and humble, the meek servitor of that host's\ndaughter.\n\nNo one could imagine whence or how this mighty change had come, but the\nvoice of Ophelia soon turned their thoughts to other things. Still\nseated upon her living stool, she bade the guests be seated, and told\nthem that her father would do the honours.\n\nHaving seen her power displayed in so miraculous a manner, no one felt\nthe least inclined to disobey her, the more particularly as her\ncommands were by no means of an unwelcome nature, and the feast was one\nof a very inviting description.\n\nNo one offered to interfere between the lady and the sovereign, being\nprobably of opinion that to do so would expose themselves to danger\nwithout benefit to their lord and master, for whom, moreover, none of\nthem had any very particular affection. Accordingly they obeyed\nOphelia's commands without either reluctance or hesitation, seated\nthemselves at the tables and began to attack the good things thereupon\nwithout any unnecessary delay.\n\nMeantime Ophelia kept her seat, and Famcram, not being particularly\nstrong, soon groaned beneath her weight, especially as she did not try\nto lighten his burden, but sat as heavy as she could, occasionally\nlifting her feet from the ground to give greater weight to her body.\nThe king spoke not a word, however, being apparently restrained by some\npower. He merely panted and breathed deeply, once or twice trembling so\nas to shake the maiden. Whenever he did so, she struck him a sharp blow\non the side of the head with the back of her hand, addressing him at\nthe same time with epithets the reverse of complimentary.\n\n\"Beast, keep quiet.\" \"Be still, you stupid brute,\" and such like\nejaculations were all the king got from his fair mistress, and this\ncontinued until the banquet was well nigh over, and most of the good\nthings consumed. Then Ophelia arose, and taking the king by the ear\n(which she pinched and twisted so that an involuntary yell broke from\nthe unhappy sufferer), led him to the head of the table at which her\nfather was presiding. The latter trembled even then, partly for fear of\nthe extraordinary power possessed by his daughter, and perhaps in a\ngreater degree lest it should suddenly fail her after all, and the\nvengeance of the enslaved monarch be worse to endure than would have\nbeen his first anger.\n\nNo such fear, however, troubled Ophelia, who had her own purpose in\nwhat she was now about to do. She desired to show to the people her\ngreat and full power over their sovereign, and this she had already\ndone; but it was by no means part of her plan that they should cease to\npay him deference, or at least obedience, for it was through him that\nshe could alone possess that power over them which she fully intended\nto gain. She therefore caused him to be seated at her father's right\nhand, and to be supplied with food and drink of which she directed him\nto partake. Famcram obeyed at once, meekly and without complaint, and\nate what was given to him with a grateful glance at Ophelia, such as a\ndog might have given to a master who had thrown him a bone.\n\nShe, meanwhile, seating herself on the other side of her father,\nlistlessly asked for some boiled chicken, and, whilst she trifled with\nher knife and fork, began to converse upon indifferent subjects, making\nno allusion whatever to the incidents of the day. This behaviour caused\nthe Chief Justice the greatest astonishment, and at another time he\nwould have demanded explanations of his daughter without delay.\n\nBut his joy at the unexpected turn which things had taken, and at his\nown safety, at least for the time, from the peril with which he had\nbeen so recently threatened, caused him to take less notice of the\nmatter than he would otherwise have done.\n\nTo speak the truth, moreover, his joy had been somewhat increased and\nhis spirits in no small degree elated by an unusual quantity of dry\nchampagne which he had imbibed in the excitement of the moment, so that\nthings appeared natural and reasonable to him which would generally\nhave seemed most extraordinary.\n\nOphelia meantime was playing her game well. She judged--and judged\nrightly--that the conduct of the king in throwing himself at her feet,\nin allowing her to sit upon him as if he were a chair or stool, and in\nafterwards meekly following her to the head of the table, would be\nattributed to nothing else than devoted love by a great many of those\nwho were present, and especially by such as had not been near enough to\nwitness his first outburst of anger, or to hear his first words, which\nhad certainly not been those of affection.\n\nThis idea would be speedily followed by another, when the guests saw\nher seated on one side of the Chief Justice and King Famcram on the\nother.\n\nWhat _could_ it mean save that she was about to be raised to the\nhighest dignity in the kingdom, and to share the throne and power of\nFamcram as his queen?\n\nThis was in fact the resolution which she had formed, and determined to\nomit no precaution which might ensure its success. So she sat and ate\nat the banquet, already looking and feeling like a queen, and her\ndevice fully succeeded in making the people believe that things were as\nshe desired.\n\nBut all this would be insufficient without some public avowal on the\npart of the king, and she resolved that this should be given.\n\nPresently, therefore, she leant forward across her father, and,\nsteadily looking Famcram in the face, thus addressed him:--\n\n\"King, your wish--the anxious wish of your heart--shall be gratified. I\nconsent to become your queen, and you may at once announce the happy\ntidings to this august assembly.\"\n\nAs she said these words, the luckless Famcram turned quite red in the\nface, and there was visibly another struggle within his breast between\ncontending passions. This struggle lasted longer than the first, and\nnot only did he make no sign of acquiescence to the lady's proposal,\nbut there were those who afterwards declared that they heard--deep and\nlow like the sound of fire struggling to burst loose from walls within\nwhich it is enclosed--a sepulchral voice within the king which muttered\nthe words--\"I don't want any queen.\"\n\nBut, whether such words were spoken or not, Ophelia was equal to the\noccasion.\n\n\"Jam, dear, did you say?\" she asked in her most winning tones, and in\nanother second the salt-spoon was out, and a portion of the contents of\nthe little jar transferred without delay to the king's mouth, whilst in\na low, determined voice, the maiden continued, speaking in tones which\ncould scarcely be heard by anyone save the king himself and the Chief\nJustice.\n\n\"Speak out, slave, at once, and acknowledge me as your only queen.\"\n\nMechanically, as if moved by springs, uprose King Famcram. There was a\ndead silence for a moment; then there burst forth a loud cheer, for the\nguests naturally supposed that the king was about to speak, and knew\nthat it was proper to cheer before he said anything, in order to show\nthat they were ready to do so afterwards.\n\nThen again there was a silence, and Famcram spoke these words:\n\n    \"Ophelia Pigspud is my queen, and only she.\"\n\nAnd down he sat again so suddenly that everybody thought it was by\naccident, and there must be something more coming.\n\nAs, however, there was _not_, it was evidently the duty of all present\nto cheer again, and this they did most lustily, again and again, though\na great many of them had not heard what the king had said, a great many\nmore thought there was something in the proceeding which they could not\nunderstand, and still a great many more did not care sixpence, one way\nor other, about the announcement.\n\nNevertheless, Ophelia had gained her end: the king had publicly\ndeclared that she, and she only, was his queen, and the rest appeared\nto depend upon herself.\n\nBy this time the Chief Justice was in a condition which rendered it\ndesirable that no further business of importance should be transacted,\nfor the excitement of the afternoon had proved altogether too much for\nhim. He was therefore assisted to his room, and retired amid loud\ncheers from such of the guests as had not made sufficient noise before.\nThen Ophelia directed the butler and his attendants to conduct Famcram\nto the state chamber, and to direct the guards to be placed in the\nusual manner.\n\nThe courtiers and guests were forthwith dismissed, and the eventful day\ndrew to its close.\n\nMany and deep were the thoughts which occupied Ophelia's mind that\nnight; she had a difficult game to play, and though her spirit was high\nand her courage undaunted, it was impossible that she should not feel\nsome anxiety as to the result. So far, indeed, all had gone well.\n\nFamcram, who had evidently entered the banqueting-room with no better\nintentions towards her father and herself than those which he had\nentertained and carried out in the case of the unhappy families of\nBinks and Chinks, had been entirely overcome by the magic assistance of\nher godmother.\n\nThe jam had proved most efficacious indeed, and the evening had been\none continued triumph.\n\nBut doubts and fears still remained as to the future. At the very\nmoment of the king's recognition of her as his queen, he had but too\nplainly evinced a disinclination to the step which appeared to indicate\nthat the power of the jam was but temporary, unless, indeed, it was the\nlast struggle of his obstinate nature against that power. He had\ncertainly yielded, and nothing could have been more complete than\nOphelia's victory. But then came the question, if the jam had not\nsufficient force to keep the king enchained as her slave for a longer\ntime than the duration of the banquet, might not its power die away\naltogether before morning? In that case, what would be her position if\nthe monarch, too wary to see her, and so run the risk of being again\nsubjected to the same treatment, should issue orders directed against\nher and hers, and fully revenge himself for the events of the previous\nevening?\n\nTrue--if she retained the jar, she might operate upon his messengers in\nsuch a manner as to prevent their inflicting personal injury upon\nherself, but she would probably be unable to protect her father or his\nproperty, as the power she possessed seemed to be personal, closely\nconnected with the jam, and such as could only be exercised when she\nhad the jar in her hand.\n\nSuppose, again, that Famcram should awake during the night, discover\nthat he was not in his own palace, summon his attendants, and surprise\nher father and slay or capture him whilst asleep. Or suppose he should\nleave the house by stealth, and that next morning it should be\nsurrounded by royal guards before she was awake, and her jar possibly\ntaken from her.\n\nAll these thoughts passed constantly through the mind of the daughter\nof Pigspud, and she got but little rest throughout the whole of that\nlong and dreary night.\n\nEarly in the morning she arose, performed her toilet with the greatest\ncare, and forthwith descended to the grand drawing-room of the mansion,\nwhere several of the courtiers had already assembled. The king had not\nyet made his appearance, and it must be owned that Ophelia awaited his\ncoming with some anxiety. Presently, however, the doors were thrown\nopen, and the sun shining through the great windows on the staircase,\nfell full upon the bright red hair of the little monarch, making it\nbrighter than ever.\n\nAs he slowly descended, Ophelia grasped tightly in her hand the little\njar, which she kept concealed in the folds of her dress, quite prepared\nto have recourse to it again immediately, if occasion should require.\nShe soon saw, however, that she need be under no immediate\napprehension. There was a submissive look about Famcram's general\nappearance, and a humility even in his squint (which seemed that\nmorning to be more frightful than ever), which greatly re-assured the\nmaiden.\n\nHe came limping into the room, and bowed before her as he entered. Now\nwas the moment when Ophelia's course of action must be clear and\ncertain. She had already resolved upon it, and proceeded according to\nher determination.\n\nTo keep Famcram in awe of herself--to preserve their last evening's\nrelations of mistress and slave--was positively necessary, but it was\nequally desirable not to lower her future husband in the eyes of his\ncourtiers and attendants. She therefore saluted him with a graceful\nbend of the head, and invited him to the breakfast-room, where they\ntook their seats side by side.\n\nThe Chief Justice was rather late that morning, at which nobody\nmanifested any surprise, having seen that his fatigue was great on the\nprevious evening. Ophelia therefore had everything to do, and she did\nit admirably. The guests were well treated, the breakfast was\nexcellently arranged, and everybody appeared satisfied and in good\nspirits.\n\nAt the conclusion of the repast, Ophelia notified to the king that he\nshould appoint a time that morning at which he would receive his\nsubjects, and publicly fix the day upon which their marriage should be\ncelebrated.\n\nThe little man made no objection, and trembled visibly when the maiden\nfixed her eyes upon him. So it was arranged that at a public audience\nto be held at twelve o'clock, the king should make solemn proclamation\nof his intended marriage, and that, as delays in such matters were\nundesirable, the ceremony should be performed the very next day.\n\nThus far had Ophelia Pigspud certainly overcome the evils with which\nfate had threatened her, and she began to feel confident that all would\ngo well, and that her triumph would be final and complete. Twelve\no'clock came, and the appointed reception was duly held, the\nproclamation that it would be so having attracted many of the better\nclass of Pigmies. The shortness of the notice was no hindrance to this\nresult.\n\nIn some countries, I have been told, when subjects are admitted to the\npresence of their sovereign, they are compelled, whether men or women,\nto adopt a costume which they never think of wearing at any other time,\nwhich is exceedingly inconvenient and sometimes ridiculous. Although\nthese ceremonies take place, like the royal receptions in Pigmyland, in\nthe broad daylight, the ladies who attend are obliged to do so in\ndresses more fit for evening parties, with their heads fantastically\narranged and crowned with feathers, more ludicrous than imposing,\nwhile, irrespective of weather, their throats and chests are exposed in\na manner exceedingly likely to produce colds and coughs and such like\nundesirable ailments.\n\nThe gentlemen, all armed with swords, as if the sovereign was likely to\norder a sudden attack upon them, or to require their services in order\nto repel one upon himself, are dressed in various degrees of absurdity,\naccording to the particular rank or grade to which each belongs, but no\none wears an ordinary dress, and the whole thing is somewhat like a\nfancy ball or a masquerade without the masks. These, however, are of\ncourse only half civilized people, and not an intelligent and\nprogressive race such as the Pigmies. The latter appear before their\nmonarch in their ordinary clothes, the only regulation being that they\nshall be decent and respectable, as in fact they always are. Thus the\nsovereign sees his people as they really are, whilst they on their part\ncome into the royal presence without restraint, or the uncomfortable\nfeeling of presenting an appearance similar to that of a jackdaw in\npeacock's feathers. This ensures a large attendance on reception days,\nwhich are also the more frequently held, and at short notice, since\nthey do not entail upon the people, as in the countries to which I have\nalluded, the necessity of long notice to dress-makers and tailors, and\nthe not inconsiderable expense contingent upon dealings with such\npeople. So although the proclamation was only made upon the same\nmorning, the greater part of the aristocracy of Famcram's capital,\ntogether with many of the middle classes, who were not excluded from\nthat court, attended his reception.\n\nOphelia stood by his side, carefully retaining the jar of jam all the\ntime, and the little monarch was as submissive as upon the previous\nday. The people saw and recognised her position.\n\nWhether they murmured at all, or entertained any objection to the\nsudden elevation of the daughter of Pigspud, I cannot say, but at all\nevents no such feeling was evinced, the reception passed off as well as\nOphelia could possibly have wished, and Famcram was as much her slave\nas ever.\n\nFor greater security, she gave him a small piece of bread and jam\nimmediately after luncheon, and he really seemed to require no more in\norder to keep him perfectly submissive and obedient to the will of his\nmistress. Of course it was necessary to make great preparations for the\nnext day.\n\nChief Justice Pigspud, finding his daughter's position, to all\nappearance, firmly established, took heart again, recovered much of his\nformer confidence, and began to hold up his head and to prepare to take\na full share in the future government of the kingdom. He naturally took\nthe lead in arranging the proceedings of the following day, the more\nespecially as Famcram seemed to have suddenly changed his character.\nInstead of being captious, jealous, ill-tempered, arbitrary, and\ntyrannical, he appeared to have subsided into a meek, quiet, timid\nbeing, who hardly dared call his soul his own. He spoke, looked, and\nmoved as if in a kind of stupor, and obeyed every command of Ophelia\nwithout a protest or even a murmur of objection.\n\nThe Chief Justice, seeing that this result had been obtained in some\nmysterious way, was too well satisfied with it to trouble his daughter\nby inquiries into the means she had used or the agencies she had\nemployed. It is due to the old man to say that he suspected nothing\nunlawful, but even had he entertained such suspicions, I do not know\nthat he would have deemed it necessary to take any action upon them,\nsince, whatever the means taken, the end secured had been one so\ndesirable.\n\nWith all his faults Pigspud was not without generosity, and now that he\nsaw good prospects of prosperity before him and his house, he bethought\nhimself of his old associates, Binks and Chinks, and determined, if\npossible, to effect their release from unmerited imprisonment.\n\nWith this object he went to his daughter in the afternoon of the day\nbefore the wedding, representing to her that it would be a graceful act\non her part, and one likely to be popular with the people, if she were\nto persuade the king to release his old ministers and their families,\nand invite them to be present at his approaching nuptials.\n\nOphelia was somewhat vexed at the request. She hardly felt as yet\nsufficiently secure in her position to run any risks, and, although she\nwould have been glad enough to have aided in the release of the Prime\nMinister and the Lord Chamberlain, an indefinable something seemed to\ntell her that in the daughters of the two ministers she would find\nenemies who had better not be placed in any position in which they\ncould possibly do harm.\n\nShe knew the power which jealousy has over the female mind--that is to\nsay, in Pigmyland, though, of course, in ordinary countries, such a\nfeeling is unknown to the softer sex--and she feared she knew not what.\nHowever, she felt that it would be ungracious, as well as ungrateful,\nto refuse her father his first request, and she, therefore, told\nFamcram that the prisoners must be released in order to be present at\nthe wedding next day. The king raised no objection, but did as he was\ntold, and orders were immediately sent to the dungeons for the\nliberation of the ex-ministers and their families, at which they were,\nof course, delighted; but some difficulty was experienced after their\nrelease from prison, as to where they should go to, inasmuch as King\nFamcram had appropriated all their property. As, however, their\nrespective houses remained unoccupied, they were permitted to return\nthither, and make themselves as comfortable as they could. The ladies\nof the party were the worst off, and great were their complaints of\ntotal inability to appear in proper dresses at the festivities on the\nensuing day.\n\nOphelia felt for their difficulty, and did all she could to remove it,\nsupplying them with many articles of dress from her own wardrobe, and\nassuring them of her sincere sympathy for their sufferings in the past,\nand her readiness to promote their happiness in the future. So when the\nmorning fixed for the royal marriage dawned, all seemed likely to go\nwell, and content reigned upon the face of every Pigmy.\n\nOwing to a conflagration which, at a subsequent period, destroyed all\nthe records in the public offices of that country, I am unable to\nsupply my readers with a full and accurate account of all the details\nof the interesting ceremony which united Ophelia to her royal husband.\n\nVarious accounts were written and published at the time, but none of\nthem by authority, and I am unwilling to trust to unauthorized\nnarratives when dealing with a subject of such immense importance. That\nwhich it most concerns us to know, however, is that the wedding\nactually took place, which fact having been once ascertained, even the\nappearance of the bride and the dresses of the bridesmaids become\nmatters of comparatively little moment Of this great fact there is\nhappily no doubt.\n\nKing Famcram was legally married to Ophelia Pigspud after the custom of\nPigmy marriages, and the maiden was undoubtedly Queen of the Pigmies.\nHer first act was at once gracious and becoming. She caused Binks and\nChinks to be reinstated in their former offices, and arranged that\npecuniary compensation should be given them for the losses they had\nsustained. Furthermore, she appointed Euphemia and Araminta Binks,\ntogether with the three daughters of the lord chamberlain, Asphalia,\nBettina, and Paraphernalia, as her ladies in waiting, and promised to\nthem and to herself that the court should ever be made the scene of\ngaieties and entertainments to which it had long been a stranger.\n\nBut however good were the motives of Ophelia, however kind her feeling\ntowards these five young ladies, however pleasant her plans might have\nappeared to them under other circumstances, I am sorry to say that they\nneither believed in nor appreciated them.\n\nFeelings of jealousy had sprung up within their tender breasts, from\nthe first moment that they had found Ophelia preferred to the throne\nbefore themselves. Possessed, as has been related, of beauty, wit, and\nfascination in different degrees, but in the case of each of them, a\nsuperior degree to the generality of maidens, they felt that they had,\neach and all, as good a right to have shared the throne of Famcram as\nthe more fortunate damsel who had obtained that position.\n\nInstead, therefore, of being loyal to Ophelia, and grateful for her\nkindness towards them, they regarded her with envy and spite, and their\nbeautiful faces but ill reflected the ugly feelings which occupied\ntheir hearts. Ignorant of this, Ophelia had forgotten her first fears\nand doubts upon the question of their release, and, unsuspicious of\nevil, kept one or other of the maidens constantly near her.\n\nFor a day or two all went well. The king kept in the same state of\ntorpor, and his passive obedience to his wife made him, in the general\nopinion of Pigmy ladies, a model for all husbands. Ophelia, however,\nknowing the source from which her power was derived, kept her jar\nalways at hand, so that she might be able to have immediate recourse to\nit if the occasion should arise. It was not extraordinary that, under\nthese circumstances, her ladies in waiting should become acquainted\nwith, and take notice of, the fact. It became, very shortly after their\nappointment, a matter of conversation amongst them, and of wonder that\nthe Queen should always carry about with her a common looking little\njar, of which they knew neither the use nor the contents.\n\nParaphernalia, the youngest and prettiest of the Chinks family, wished\nto ask a question about it outright, but the worldly wisdom of her\nelder sisters checked her, for they feared that their position at court\nmight be imperilled by any forwardness or impertinence of the kind.\n\nWhether Ophelia, if asked, would have given such information, or at\nleast have dropped such hints, as might have prevented the occurrence\nof the facts I am about to relate, cannot now be known. The opportunity\nwas not afforded her, and the five ladies in waiting remained in\nignorance upon the subject.\n\nOn the third day after her marriage, Ophelia was to receive the ladies\nof the court and such of the fairer portion of Pigmyland as desired to\nbe presented to her. She was richly arrayed in garments well suited to\nthe occasion, and looked right royal as she stood to receive her\nguests. The king, with meek and submissive gait, stood by her side, and\nnever had she looked more lovely or felt more triumphant. Resolved,\nhowever, to take care of safety as well as of appearance, she kept in\nher left hand the little jar, having a scarf lightly thrown over her\narm and concealing it from view. It had not, however, escaped the sharp\neyes of Paraphernalia Chinks, who determined in her own mind that the\nday should not pass by without her knowing something more about the\nevident mystery to which that jar related. The ladies in waiting were,\nnaturally enough, near the queen, and stood looking on whilst those who\nwere presented to her majesty trooped by, making their reverent\nobeisances as they did so.\n\nAfter a while, Ophelia began to feel rather tired of bowing and\nsmiling, but still continued graciously to do so, until an elderly dame\nin passing, tripped over her train and seemed in danger of falling. The\nqueen made an involuntary movement forward as if to save her, and in so\ndoing happened to loosen her hold upon the jar in her left hand. At the\nvery same instant, Paraphernalia, who had been watching her opportunity\nall the time, started forward as if to assist her majesty, and, as if\nby accident, gave a violent push to her left arm, when, sad to relate,\nthe jar fell from her hand upon the marble pavement at her feet, and\nwas instantly broken in pieces.\n\nAt the sight of the contents, which appeared to be ordinary jam, the\nladies-in-waiting could hardly restrain themselves from exclamations of\nsurprise, and all the more so when they perceived the pallor which\nimmediately overspread the countenance of the queen. But their\nattention was at once directed to something else.\n\nScarcely had the accident happened, and the jar slipped from Ophelia's\ngrasp and met with the fate I have described, when a great and\nmarvellous change came over the appearance and demeanour of the king.\nNo longer meek and subdued, his countenance flushed with rage, his\nsquinting appeared more furiously malicious than ever, and he stood\nbefore the Court, not the obedient slave and husband, but once more the\ntyrant Famcram, restored to his former self.\n\nHe passed his hand across his brow, as if to sweep away from him some\nunpleasant memories, and then glared fiercely around him for a minute\nwithout uttering a syllable. There was a dead silence. Everybody feared\nsome dreadful outburst, and nobody knew what to expect.\n\nThen Famcram broke forth in fury--\n\n\"What sorcery is here?\" he cried. \"What witchcraft has been going on?\nWhat drab is this whom I see beside me assuming a place as if she were\nqueen? Who are these over-dressed peacocks on every side? Toads,\nvipers, serpents! Ho, guards! away with them!\" and again he looked with\nfrightful grimaces upon those who stood about him.\n\nBinks, Chinks, and Pigspud fell instantly on their knees, all in a row.\nThe ladies-in-waiting, between trembling and fainting, did nothing for\nthe moment, whilst Ophelia, recognising at once that her power of\ncompulsion was gone, resolved to make an instant appeal to the better\nfeelings of the king.\n\n\"Sire,\" she said, turning round and confronting him with dignity, \"I am\nyour lawful queen. Three days ago you wedded me, and I share your\nthrone. Pray let us govern with justice and mercy, and you shall never\nhave cause to repent of having elevated me to this position.\"\n\n\"Position! You! Throne! Queen! _Us_ govern!\" shrieked Famcram at the\ntop of his voice, now perfectly beside himself with fury. \"You fool!\nYou idiot! You jackanapes! You witch! You vile creature! _You_ a queen,\nforsooth! Out upon your folly, that led you to try and deceive Famcram.\nSeize her, guards!\" he continued; \"seize the whole lot of them! Strip\noff their fine robes, and away with them to the palace dungeons! We\nwill soon see who is to be king and master here!\"\n\nAs he spoke, the obedient guards came forward; and, in spite of all\nthat Ophelia could do or say, stripped her of her ornaments, and cloak\nof rich fur, took from her head the crown with which the queens of that\ncountry were always decorated on state occasions, and began to drag her\naway.\n\nFamcram grinned with malicious spite as he saw her in the hands of his\nrough attendants.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"this is _real_ jam, now!\" and from these casual words\nof the king sprang an expression which has now become proverbial in\nthat country, indicating some special pleasure or remarkably gratifying\nincident.\n\nOphelia was not alone in her misfortune. Her five ladies-in-waiting\nwere all seized at the same time, their fine clothing taken from them,\nand themselves conveyed back again to the same dungeons which they had\npreviously occupied, and which the wretched Ophelia now shared with\nthem.\n\nTheir behaviour to the fallen queen was, I am sorry to say, neither\nladylike nor generous. Forgetful of the fact that it was to her they\nhad owed their liberty, and that she had shown them all possible\nkindness during her brief period of prosperity, they only remembered\nthat it was through her discomfiture that they were themselves\nsuffering at the moment They overwhelmed her with reproaches, in which\nParaphernalia, herself the real cause of their joint misfortune, was\nespecially forward, and not content with this, the three daughters of\nChinks set upon her, cuffed her, scratched her, slapped her, pulled her\nhair, and vowed that they would do much worse before they had done with\nher.\n\nParaphernalia went so far as to suggest cutting off all her hair, and\nspoiling her beauty by burning or otherwise marking her face; but the\nothers had hardly come to such a state of wickedness and malice as\nthis, although they joined in making the poor girl more miserable than\nshe would otherwise have been, and showed a want of consideration and\ngood feeling which was much to be blamed.\n\nThe discomfort and misery of all the ladies were, as may be supposed,\nconsiderable; nor was their condition at all improved by the news that\nFamcram had resolved that the parents of the three families, Binks,\nChinks, and Pigspud, should be executed in the public market place\nwithin three days. This news, conveyed to them by some of those\nofficious persons who always like to bring unpleasant tidings, if only\nthat they may watch their effects upon the people they are likely to\nmake unhappy, plunged all six ladies into the deepest sorrow.\n\nNor was the next piece of news at all calculated to lighten the burden\nof affliction which weighed them down. Famcram sent a special messenger\nto inform the captives that they should all suffer the extreme penalty\nof the law also. At first he had declared that they should be publicly\nwhipped in the square opposite the palace, and afterwards be beheaded,\nbut upon an earnest representation being made to him by a deputation\nfrom the anti-flogging society, who were numerous in the city, he\nconsented to forego that part of the punishment, and to have them sewn\nup in sacks and thrown into the river, which was a form of punishment\nmuch in vogue in that part of the world.\n\nResolved, however, to make them suffer as much as possible, he directed\nthat their execution should take place upon the day preceding that of\ntheir fathers, and that the latter should be obliged to tie the mouths\nof the sacks, and roll their own children into the water.\n\nThe girls heard this doom with horror, but there was no way of averting\nit. On the morning of the day on which the sentence was to be carried\ninto effect, the daughters of Chinks became more furious than ever\nagainst Ophelia, and declared that she ought to be scratched to death\nin the dungeon, and not share the fate of honourable damsels like\nthemselves. But a better spirit had come over Euphemia and Araminta,\nthe daughters of the late Prime Minister.\n\nThey had felt some compunction at the treatment of Ophelia by their\nfriends and prison companions, and had not joined in the personal\nattack which had been led by Paraphernalia. And when they remembered\nhow Ophelia had behaved as queen, and saw how meekly she bore the cruel\ninsults now heaped upon her by the others, they spoke out boldly, and\ninterfered to prevent further violence.\n\nSo the hours passed by until the afternoon arrived, and all six ladies,\nhaving a thick coarse white sheet cast round each of them, as if about\nto stand and do penance, were led forth from the palace dungeons and\ntaken to the appointed place of execution.\n\nEverything had been arranged under the direct orders of the tyrant\nhimself. Marshalled two and two between their guards, the poor girls\nfound that they had to pass through a crowd of gaping and staring\npeople, and to walk over the mud and stones upon their bare feet.\n\nTheir beauty attracted general notice, but Ophelia's form and bearing\nmade by far the greatest impression upon the bystanders.\n\nSide by side she walked by Euphemia Binks, but the latter's beauty was\nentirely eclipsed by that of the late queen. The daughter of Pigspud\nwalked with a royal air--upright, majestic in figure, with a look of\nresignation and yet contempt of fate--she excited an universal feeling\nof pity and admiration.\n\nLow murmurs were heard among the crowd, and whispers which, had they\ncome to Famcram's ears, would certainly have caused the whisperers\ntrouble. The tyrant, however, was so much feared, and the loyalty of\nPigmies is ever so devoted, even when their sovereign is one whom no\none can love or respect, that no sign of an outbreak was shown.\n\nSlowly the mournful procession marched upon its way, until it reached\nthe road leading directly to the river.\n\nAt this moment the great cathedral bell began to toll, filling the\nhearts of those who heard it with a certain awful feeling impossible to\nbe described in words, which was increased in intensity when men in\nblack garments, with masks over their faces, appeared, carrying the\nsacks which were to be employed in the execution of the unhappy\nmaidens.\n\nWith a refinement of cruelty, the brutal tyrant had directed that the\nprocession should turn aside and pass through the hall of the Chief\nJustice's house, so that Ophelia in her disgrace and misery, should be\nmade to look upon the place in which her recent but shortlived triumph\nhad occurred. So they marched into the house and through the great\nbanqueting-room, and out into the gardens, and as they slowly descended\nto the river, again the solemn deep death-warning clang of the\ncathedral bell sounded in their ears, and the girls knew that now\nindeed their end was very near.\n\nClose to the spot which he had fixed for the execution, in a\nmagnificent arm-chair upon a kind of temporary dais erected for the\noccasion, sat Famcram himself, uglier than ever, with his crown upon\nhis head, and the famous sceptre in his hand. As the procession drew\nnear he arose from his chair, around which stood his principal\ncourtiers, whilst at a little distance might be observed the wretched\nBinks, Chinks, and Pigspud, each guarded by two armed attendants.\n\nWhen the ladies had approached quite close to the king, he grinned upon\nthem with more than his usual malice, and began to sneer at and abuse\nthem.\n\n\"Is this our queen?\" he asked in a jeering tone. \"The queen that was to\nshare our throne, and it was to be 'us' who would govern, was it not?\nPoor wretch! the bed of the river will soon be your royal couch, and\nyou shall share it with the eels--if\" (and here he grinned horribly)\n\"they can make their way through the sack which will hold your lovely\nform. _You_ to be queen, you nasty, staring, goggle-eyed vixen! And\nhere come our Prime Minister's and Lord Chamberlain's children! Pretty\nducklings, you shall be sown up nice and tight, and your own fathers\nshall give you to the pike and the rats. Nice tender morsels for these\nye will be!\"\n\nTo these taunts the poor girls made no reply, and the tyrant continued\nto insult them, having ordered the procession to stand still for the\npurpose. And still the great bell tolled on.\n\nThey had stopped very near to the river, and now, at a signal from the\nking, the men clothed in black came forward with the sacks, the white\nsheets were taken from the fair shoulders of the victims, and each was\nthrust into her sack in the dishevelled garments she wore, and left\nthere for a few moments until the unhappy fathers should perform the\nduties assigned to them.\n\nUp to this time Ophelia had kept silence. She despised the wretched\nFamcram too much to condescend to answer his taunts. If death was to be\nmet, she would meet it like a true daughter of Pigspud, and her ancient\nlineage should never be disgraced by her behaviour.\n\nBut, at this extreme moment, a ray of hope darted suddenly into her\nheart. Where was she? Upon the very spot where she had received the\nmystic jar which had worked for her such wonders. The place was the\nsame--the hour, though not so late, was possibly not unpropitious, for\nthe sun was beginning to sink behind the higher buildings of the city.\nWas it impossible that the same power which had helped her before might\nagain befriend her? The effort was at least worth making, and failure\ncould make matters no worse.\n\nSo, even in the sack, before it was closed over her head, with enemies\nseemingly all around, and death staring her in the face, Ophelia lifted\nup her head and looking towards the river, slowly pronounced these\nwords.\n\n    \"Marley-quarley-pachel-farley--\n    Mansto macken furlesparley,--\n    Mondo pondo sicho pinto,\n    Framsigalen hannotinto!\"\n\nEverybody was surprised at the words and behaviour of the unfortunate\nlady.\n\nBut what followed surprised them infinitely more. A curious whining,\nmurmuring, incomprehensible sound came along the banks of the river,\nfilling the hearts of those who heard it with a strange sense of fear,\nand a feeling that something wonderful was about to happen.\n\nThe river, too, instead of flowing on in its usual quiet and majestic\nmanner, seemed perturbed in an extraordinary manner, and became as\nrough as the open ocean in a storm.\n\nBy common consent everyone who was present stood as if struck by one\nfeeling of awe, which palsied and unfitted them for action. The men who\nwere supporting the sacks in which the unhappy maidens stood, shivering\nwith fear, remained rooted to their places, and mingled fear and wonder\nsat upon the faces of the people.\n\nThen slowly arose from the rushes by the waterside the same grotesque\nfigure which had once before held converse with Ophelia. The red cloak,\nthe umbrella, the poke bonnet, the keen eye, were all there, and the\nold woman stood upon the bank within a very short distance of the\nsacks.\n\nShe looked round upon the people as if rather surprised at seeing them\nthere, but appeared after a short time to have eyes only for Ophelia,\nupon whom she fixed her gaze attentively, and striking her umbrella\nupon the ground accosted her in the following words:\n\n    \"What is it, Ophelia! and what do you fear\n    That you've called your affectionate godmother here?\n    Have matters gone wrong since you wanted me last?\n    I fear that they have, as my eyes round I cast--\n    You haven't got on the same dress that you wore\n    When you came down to see the old lady before--\n    And unless my old eyesight its certainty lacks\n    You seem hampered and bound in the coarsest of sacks,\n    And some other girls, too! in what sad plight you are;\n    My darling; has aught gone amiss with the jar?\"\n\nIn a mournful voice Ophelia replied at once:--\n\n    \"Dear godmother! my woes are great,\n    And miserable is my fate:\n    The jar is broken! and I am\n    Both 'out of luck' and 'out of' jam!\n    This cruel tyrant, whom I wed\n    (I would I'd been at Bath instead!)\n    His senses managed to recover,\n    And, now no more obedient lover,\n    Used language really quite past bearing\n    (He always _was_ too prone to swearing),\n    Swore I no more his wealth should sponge on,\n    And clapt me in a dirty dungeon.\n    And then, his wrath no way abating,\n    My ladies--five of them--in waiting\n    He also sent there--scarce politely--\n    And tho' they've not behaved quite rightly,\n    They scarcely have in crime abounded\n    So much--as to be sacked--and drownded!\n    Tho' if my throne I once were back in\n    _I_ should have given _three_ a \"sacking\"--\n    But, godmother, see what I'm brought to!\n    That naughty king!--he didn't ought to!\"\n\nOphelia sobbed aloud when she had concluded these words, which were\nuttered somewhat incoherently, as if the poor girl was quite overcome\nby her misfortune. But scarcely had she finished, when the old woman\nstrode up to the sack without another word, and drawing a large pair of\nscissors from her belt, immediately cut it open in such a manner that\nthe maiden was set free.\n\nUp to this time King Famcram had remained quiet, as if sharing in the\ngeneral fear and astonishment. No sooner, however, did he see that the\nold woman's purpose was to set free at least one of his prisoners, and\nthat the chief offender, than fear gave way to wrath, and he leaped up\nfrom his armchair in a tremendous passion.\n\n\"Who is this?\" he cried loudly, \"who is this that interferes with the\nKing's sentence? Seize her, guards! Vile hag, you shall soon receive\nyour deserts.\"\n\nBut not a guard moved. Some power greater than that of Famcram seemed\nto restrain them, and the old woman quietly accomplished her task\nwithout taking the slightest notice of anybody but Ophelia.\n\nWhen the latter was free, and standing by her side, she once more spoke\nin the same masculine voice as at first, and smiling upon the maiden,\nthus addressed her:--\n\n    \"Tho' jars may be broken and jam may be spoiled,\n    The plans of your godmother never are foiled,\n    And power and good-will I must certainly lack\n    Ere my favourite god-child be drowned in a sack.\n    Yet if you desire it, my god-daughter sweet,\n    These ladies of thine shall their recompense meet--\n    And since they've behaved, dear, so badly to thee,\n    We'll give them a ducking--just say--shall it be!\"\n\nOphelia, who now began to feel sure that she was safe, was too much\nrejoiced thereat to wish harm to anyone else, and in a few well chosen\nwords she begged her godmother not to be severe on the poor creatures,\nwho, she was certain, would never do it again.\n\nShe also told her of the better behaviour of the two daughters of\nBinks, upon which the old lady cut their sacks open immediately, but\ncould hardly be restrained from punishing the others, especially\nParaphernalia, who cried like a great baby from sheer fright and begged\nOphelia to forgive her. The godmother then took from her finger a ring\nwhich she held before Ophelia and addressed her in these words.\n\n    \"I give thee, my daughter, this emerald ring\n    (Its colour, you see, is a wonderful green),\n    And tho' you may lose your detestable king\n    You still shall be owned as the Pigmy-land queen.\n    Reign long and be happy--through many bright days,\n    May all your past troubles your happiness prove,\n    And would you be safe--hear what godmother says,\n    Be kind to your people, and govern by love!\"\n\nAs she said these words the old woman placed the ring upon Ophelia's\nfinger, and smiled upon her in an affectionate manner.\n\nAt this moment Famcram's rage grew beyond all bounds. He literally\nfoamed at the mouth with fury--both at the scene which was being\nenacted before his eyes, and the unwillingness or impotence of his\nguards to help him. He yelled out to them again at the top of his\nvoice, whilst his red hair seemed to blaze with fury as he whirled his\nsceptre round his head.\n\n\"Seize the vile witch, I say!\" he shouted. \"Who dares to talk of any\none reigning here while Famcram lives? Seize her and burn her! Varlets!\nWill none of ye stand by your king?\"\n\nWith these words the king jumped from the dais on which he had been\nsitting, and rushed forward himself, calling loudly to his guards to\ncome on.\n\nBut his cries were to no purpose--every man stood rooted to the ground,\nand not a hand was lifted to help the tyrant. Then the smile left the\nface of the old woman, and she turned from Ophelia to face the king. He\npaused, as she raised her hand and pointed at him with her umbrella,\nwhile she spoke again in the same voice as before. And these were her\nwords:--\n\n    \"Thou slayer of women, disgrace to thy line,\n    The vengeance is near--be thy punishment mine--\n    You wished my dear god-child in river to drown.\n    No, no, tyrant Famcram, _this_ time you're 'done brown!'\"\n\nShe had no time for more, for, overcoming his fear or whatever had\nhitherto restrained him, the little tyrant rushed upon her.\n\nThe old woman now adopted a most curious course. Dropping her umbrella\nupon the ground, she made no more ado, but seized Famcram the moment he\nwas within reach, wrenched his sceptre from him, and shook him\nseverely.\n\nHe struggled, bit, kicked and yelled, but it was all in vain. That\nfearful grasp was upon him, against which twenty times his strength had\nbeen of no avail.\n\nThe fight, if such indeed it could be called, was soon over. The\nwretched creature writhed in the hands of his enemy, who shook him to\nher heart's content, and then, raising him with apparent ease by the\nscruff of the neck, calmly placed him in the sack from which she had\njust liberated her goddaughter.\n\nIn spite of his continued struggles, she swiftly tied the mouth of the\nsack in a knot, which she managed to make; and then, without a word\nmore, good, bad, or indifferent, descended the bank, threw in the sack,\nand sat down upon it.\n\n[Illustration: OPHELIA.--P. 280]\n\nTo the surprise of the people, instead of sinking, the sack floated\naway into the midst of the river, which boiled and surged around it, so\nthat every now and then it went down, and then came up again in sight\nof the crowd--the old woman keeping her seat upon it all the time, and\nsmiling grimly as she bobbed up and down in a manner which would have\nmade many respectable old ladies of my acquaintance feel remarkably\nunwell. No such effect, however, was produced upon the old woman, and\nshe apparently enjoyed the whole thing very much.\n\nWhen they first left the bank, stifled screams were heard issuing from\nthe sack, but these soon died away, and it was plain enough that the\nwretched Famcram must have been very speedily drowned.\n\nIn a little while the old woman and the sack had floated out of sight,\nand the people began to recover somewhat from their amazement. Then\noccurred another marvellous thing.\n\nThe river suddenly rose in several places, in the form of a waterspout,\nand came dashing over the crowd. But the extraordinary part of it was\nthat whilst it drenched and half drowned the black executioners and all\nFamcram's particular friends, Ophelia and those who were on her side\nwere not touched by it. The courtiers and guards of Famcram turned and\nfled. Then, after a short pause, the three late ministers, Binks,\nChinks, and Pigspud came forward together and knelt at Ophelia's feet.\nBinks was the spokesman of the party.\n\n\"Madam,\" he said, \"after what has just happened, we cannot doubt that a\nhigher power than ours has designated you as our queen. I am sure that\nI speak in the name of all that is great, good and powerful in\nPigmyland, when I ask you to reign over us in the place of him who has\nproved himself so unworthy to do so.\"\n\nOphelia replied at once:--\"Rise, sir,\" she said, \"and you too, dear\nfather, for it is not meet that you should kneel before your child.\nThere might, doubtless, have been found worthier sovereigns for our\ncountry, but since Fate has thus decreed it, I accept the position\nwhich is offered.\"\n\nAs soon as the words were out of her mouth, loud shouts of joy broke\nforth from the surrounding people. At a sign from Ophelia, the other\ndamsels were all set free, and they now came and stood humbly before\nher, expressing in meek and lowly tones their deep contrition for the\noffences they had committed against her.\n\nParaphernalia was especially vehement in her expressions of regret,\nvowing that she had always entertained the greatest affection for\nOphelia, and that if some demon had not possessed her, she should never\nhave acted as she had done. Her sisters made various protestations of\nthe same sort, whilst Euphemia and Araminta stood with blushing cheeks\nand downcast eyes awaiting the queen's decision.\n\nOphelia did not keep them long in suspense. She told the two daughters\nof the Prime Minister that she freely forgave them all that had\noccurred, being satisfied that it was not from them or their hostility\nthat it arose. Moreover, they had been the playmates of her childhood,\nand she should wish still to retain them about her person. She told the\ndaughters of the Lord Chamberlain, however, that she must take a\ndifferent course with them.\n\nAt these words Asphalia, Bettina, and Paraphernalia burst into a\ndreadful howl, and the latter threw herself at the feet of Ophelia and\nendeavoured to kiss them. But the queen bade her arise, and told her\nthat she and her sisters need not fear that the commencement of her\nreign would be sullied by the infliction of any severe punishment upon\nthose who had been her companions in misfortune.\n\nUpon this Paraphernalia turned joyous again, and began vociferously to\nexpress her thanks, but was again stopped by the royal lady.\n\n\"I cannot have about my court,\" she said, \"persons who have behaved as\nyou have done, nor indeed can I retain you in my service. I wish that I\ncould have done so for your father's sake, but he must himself\nacknowledge that it is impossible. Out of respect to him I will only\ncondemn Asphalia and Bettina to be confined to the limits of the city\nwalls for a year, and during that time they will be forbidden to attend\nmy court. As for Paraphernalia, she must be banished from Pigmyland\naltogether, until I shall have proofs--which I much doubt my ever\nreceiving--of her entire reformation of character.\"\n\nAt this decision the unhappy Paraphernalia raised a shrill scream and\nfell fainting upon the ground, but was speedily carried off by the\nattendants. Her sisters, who felt that they had deserved, and fully\nexpected, to share her fate, returned thanks to Ophelia for her great\nclemency, and vowed to lead such lives as should convince her of their\nundying loyalty and sincere devotion to her throne and person.\n\nThese professions the queen received with a gracious inclination of the\nhead, and expressed her hope that they might prove to be founded on a\ntrue desire on the part of the damsels to repent of the past and do\nbetter for the future. She then turned to her father and requested that\nhe, Binks, and Chinks would again resume their former offices, and\nrender her their best assistance in carrying on the government of the\ncountry.\n\nTo this the three statesmen readily assented, having, in fact, desired\nnothing better. Ophelia in the first place directed them to prepare a\nproclamation, announcing her accession to the throne, and her\ndetermination to govern upon constitutional principles, which, being a\nhigh sounding phrase, and one which nobody exactly understood,\nnaturally gave great satisfaction.\n\nOne or two discontented people did indeed whisper that as the\nconstitution of Pigmyland had always been a pure despotism, Ophelia\nonly meant to say that she should rule as other Pigmy kings and queens\nhad ruled before her. These murmurs, however, were soon silenced, and\nthis the more effectually when the queen issued the next day a second\nproclamation, in which she gave free pardon to all those who had\nsupported Famcram in his late acts of tyranny, provided they would at\nonce acknowledge her as their sovereign and obey her authority.\n\nSome people indeed objected to this proclamation, on the ground that\nthose who had obeyed Famcram, whether he had been right or wrong, were\nonly acting in accordance with the country's laws in carrying out the\norders of their lawful sovereign (which he undoubtedly was), and\nrequired no pardon at all.\n\nBut these people, again, were held to be mere cavillers and idle\ntalkers, and so general was Ophelia's popularity that whatever she\nmight have chosen to make the subject of a proclamation would have been\nhailed with delight by her loving and loyal subjects.\n\nShe ascended the throne under the happiest auspices: the good-will of\nher people filled her heart with happiness and strengthened the\nstability of her throne, whilst her great talents secured for her\nkingdom the blessings of good government, her many virtues afforded a\nbright example to all her subjects, and her reign was throughout, that\nwhich it promised at the first to become, an era of unmixed happiness\nand prosperity to Pigmyland.\n\n\n\nTHE CRONES OF MERSHAM.\n\n\nThings are very dull now-a-days in the country districts of England.\n\nThe country gentlemen have got into the habit of going to London a\ngreat deal more than they used to do before railroads were made as\nextensively as has been the case of late years. The farmers, too, move\nabout more than they did in the olden days, and act very differently in\nmany respects from their forefathers.\n\nNor are the labourers quite the same; they ask more wages, touch their\nhats to master, squire, and parson less than they did, and discuss\nmatters of politics and the government of the country, which formerly\nnever entered their heads.\n\nI dare say it is all right: it is a wise and good frame of mind to\ncherish, which teaches one that whatever _is_, is right, although\nit is sometimes very difficult to think so.\n\nFor instance, when my tooth takes to aching without any obvious cause,\nand certainly very much against my will, the fact of its doing so is\nwell established, but the existing state of things in my face is not\nrecognised by me--not for one single moment--as right because it _is_\nthe existing state. And when I have overdrawn my account at my\nbanker's, and the state of things is that he will not let me do so any\nmore, the circumstance that it is so does not reconcile me to the fact\nin the very slightest degree.\n\nStill, as regards the progress which this country has made, and the\ncondition at which we have now arrived, I am ready to bow my head\nmeekly, and allow that as a general maxim, the general results may be\nadmitted by me to be \"all right.\"\n\nThere _are_ the railroads, and (though the carriages are not always\ncomfortable, and the trains generally late) they afford such facilities\nfor the gentryfolk to go to town, that we cannot wonder at their doing\nso. If it is not right that they should, surely railroads would never\nhave been permitted, cutting up the beautiful country as they do, and\nsending their screaming engines along through the green fields and\nthriving plough-lands, where all before was peaceful and quiet.\n\nThen if the farmers are changed, it is also all for the best without\ndoubt. Changed they are, beyond all question. They are a different\nclass of men from the old species of farmer who existed fifty years\nago, and who seldom went further than his market town.\n\nOur farmers, now-a-days, have all visited London again and again, and\ninstead of the homely talk over a market dinner which used to take\nplace in old days, they have got \"Chambers of Agriculture,\" in which\nthey evince a remarkable ability in discussing anything which\nParliament proposes to do about agricultural matters, and talk nearly\nas wisely, I am told, as the members of the House of Commons itself!\n\nStill, however, I stick to my text, and say that, being as it is, it\nmust be all right.\n\nOf course it is, and so also with regard to the labourers. When I was a\nboy they did not know half as much as they do now, but they worked well\nfor all that.\n\nI have lodged in two rooms in this farmhouse in which I write for\ntwenty-seven years come next Michaelmas, and I have often heard farmer\nBarrett say that his best labourers were generally those who could\nneither read nor write.\n\nMost of them can do both now, and people used to say that it was a sin\nand a shame that every labourer should not be able to read his Bible\nand write his name in it.\n\n\"All right,\" again say I, only unfortunately (as I sometimes venture to\nthink) it is not their Bibles they read, so much as the penny papers,\nand these sometimes teach them different lessons from the Bible, I\nfancy. Then there is a lot of cheap--well, trash I was going to say,\nand I think I must, too--a lot of cheap trash which is sent about all\nover the country, or which they pick up here and there, and which\nteaches them lessons altogether mischievous.\n\nMoreover, they have societies, which are curious sort of concerns, I am\ntold, and through which they are taught actually to demand an increase\nof wages, and various other things which were never thought of in old\ntimes.\n\nAll these things have made the country districts of England very\ndifferent places from what they used to be when I first knew them. That\nis now a long time ago, but I know a great deal that happened before I\nknew anything from my own eyesight and observation--I mean before I was\nborn.\n\nI am an old man now, and having enough money to live upon and be\ncomfortable, I have all my lifetime indulged my inclination for living\nin the country.\n\nI used to make it my principal endeavour to avoid railways. I hired\nlodgings in rustic villages, and lived quietly therein, studying the\nways and habits of the people, and picking up old legends, which was\nalways my chief delight. But wherever I went, a railroad was sure to be\nimmediately afterwards projected through that particular district.\n\nThe steam fiend seemed to have marked me out as an involuntary pioneer\nto herald his advance; and, move where I would, he and his myrmidons\nvery shortly appeared in my wake.\n\nThis continued for five and twenty years--for I began my system of\ncountry-lodging when I was a tolerably young man--barely turned thirty.\nWhen I tell you, as I did just now, that I have been in my present\nabode for twenty-seven years, a little calculation will show you that I\nshall never again see my eighty-second birthday. You will therefore, I\nhope, excuse the garrulity of old age, and forgive me if I have\nsomewhat wandered from the tale which in fact I have not yet begun, but\nwhich I have been leading up to all this time.\n\nFor you must know that the changes of which I have been speaking have\nhad great effect upon other people besides gentry, farmers, and\nlabourers. There are nothing like so many witches, wizards and curious\ncreatures of that kind as there were, in country places, in the good\nold times.\n\nI do not for one moment say that this is to be regretted. On the\ncontrary, I say again, that being so, I have no doubt it is \"all\nright.\"\n\nBut, right or wrong, it is undoubtedly true that the witches, warlocks\nand wise women have greatly diminished, if indeed they have not\naltogether vanished. I hope it will be understood that by \"wise women\"\nI do not allude to the ladies who give scientific lectures and talk\nabout a variety of subjects upon which they evidently know much more\nthan an old gentleman like I am could ever know, and, I must say, more\nthan I should like to know about some things.\n\nThis is a different kind of wisdom altogether, and there are plenty of\npersons who possess it, or think they do, which serves their purpose\nquite as well. I mean \"wise,\" in the sense of possessing an unusual and\nsupernatural insight into things which are commonly hidden from mortal\nknowledge.\n\nOf these people there are few, if any, left in the present day; or if\nthere are such, they do not come to the front as they once did. There\nare, indeed, many persons in the world now, who actually disbelieve in\nwitches and all creatures of that sort, and who not only disbelieve in\ntheir existence now, but who stoutly maintain that they never _did_\nexist.\n\nI don't know how they get over the Witch of Endor, or the various other\nallusions to witches in the Bible, but I suppose they _do_ somehow or\nother.\n\nPeople are much too clever for me, nowadays, and get over any\ndifficulty that comes in their way--or fancy that they do so, and\ntrouble themselves no more about it. I have even heard people\ndisbelieve in fairies, but that of course is sheer nonsense; and no one\nwho wanders--as I have often done, at all seasons and at all\nhours--through the glorious English woodlands, can doubt the existence\nof the dear little elves.\n\nDoubt their existence! I should as soon think of doubting my own! How\ndo the fairy-rings come, I should like to know? Whence comes the name\nof \"the Fairy Well\"--not uncommon by any means? Oh, no! I do not\nbelieve that anybody disbelieves that fairies exist, though I know that\nthere is a dreadful amount of unbelief in the world regarding warlocks\nand witches.\n\nI am glad to say that good Farmer Barrett was never one of the\nunbelievers. He was near upon seventy when I first came to lodge under\nhis roof, so that if he had lived till now he would have been\nninety-seven. As he didn't, however, it is no use making the remark. He\ndied some twelve years ago, when about eighty-five; cut off, as one may\nsay, in the prime of life.\n\nAh, me! how our friends, young and old, fall around us, like grass. My\ngodson, Jack Barrett, here remarks, with less of reverence than I could\nhave wished, in speaking of his grandfather, that a man taken away at\neighty-five would be better compared to hay than grass. Well, well,\nJack is young; barely forty, and boys _must_ have their jokes, as we\nall know.\n\nI was going to say that good Farmer Barrett's death affected me very\nmuch. He was a very great comfort to me, was Farmer Barrett. It was not\nonly that we agreed upon most points, and thought alike in a manner\nmost satisfactory to both of us. _That_ was a great comfort, living as\nwe did under the same roof, and sitting together, either in his kitchen\nor my parlour, almost every evening, to enjoy a quiet gossip. But there\nwere other comforts too, and the chief one--that which I may fairly\nconsider the principal advantage which I reaped from the society of\nFarmer Barrett--was derived from his extraordinary knowledge of the\nlegends and traditions of his native county concerning witches and\nwizards.\n\nMany and many an evening have we sat talking upon such matters, till I\nhave really felt quite nervous about going to bed. Not that I am a\nnervous man: not by any means; but I own that more than once, after\ndiscussing witches and their cats to a late hour, I have felt a curious\nsensation when the house cat came rubbing herself against my shins, and\nhave looked with a species of creepy feeling over my left shoulder as I\nwent upstairs to bed, almost thinking I should see something \"uncanny\"\nclose behind me.\n\nI never knew any man with such a collection of stories and legends as\nold Barrett. He had tales without end of the \"Warlock of Coombe,\" the\n\"Wizard of Bockhanger,\" and the \"Witch of Brook Hollow.\" He could tell\nof the dark doings of the \"Hag of Hothfield,\" and the fearful creature\nwho so long inhabited the regions of Charing, and darkened the woods of\nLongbeach with her awesome shadow.\n\nI do not believe that any witch or wizard ever existed in Kent whose\nstory was not well known to Barrett. Of his own knowledge he could tell\nsomething. Once there happened a curious thing in his stables.\n\nHis two teams of horses, fed alike, housed equally well, and treated\nwith precisely the same care, strangely varied in their appearance and\ncondition. One team were always sleek and slim, \"fat and well-liking,\"\nlike Pharaoh's fat kine, and the admiration of all beholders. The other\nteam were just the reverse. Nothing they took seemed to agree with\nthem, they fell away, their bones started through their skins, and\ntheir appearance was a disgrace to the farm. This state of things\ngreatly puzzled and annoyed the farmer and his men.\n\nBarrett himself laid the blame upon the waggoner and his mate, and\nthreatened to discharge both of them if things went on so, as he felt\nsure they petted one team of horses at the expense of the other. The\nmen earnestly denied the charge, and were evidently much vexed at its\nhaving been made.\n\nThings went on the same until at last the waggoner, who was a clever\nand withal a courageous man, determined to sit up all night and watch.\nHe did so, being carefully hidden in the corner of the stable. The\nhorses fed well, and lay down as usual. All was quiet until twelve\no'clock struck. At that moment several little men, about a foot high,\nleaped down from the loft above the stables, and going to the favoured\nteam, began to brush and comb them with great care and energy, rubbing\nthem well all over and uttering no words to anybody as they did so,\nsave to each other as they worked, as if to encourage themselves to\ngreater exertions.\n\n\"I work--you work, I work--you work,\" they kept saying, and the coats\nof the horses rapidly became more smooth and glossy, until, when the\nlittle men had finished, they were perfect models of what horses should\nbe.\n\nThey merely looked at the other team with funny faces, and then\nhastened up again to their loft. All this the waggoner duly told his\nmaster next morning, and, of course, with the natural incredulity of\nman, he at first refused to believe it.\n\nBut when, upon the man again and again assuring him of its truth, he\ndetermined to put the matter to the proof by hiding himself that same\nnight, he saw precisely the same thing, and was of course convinced.\n\nI forget how the story ended, but I know that, somehow or other, he\nmanaged to get some \"wise\" person in the neighbourhood to speak up for\nthe poor, thin team, and prevent the little elves, or whatever they\nwere, from \"spiting\" them any more.\n\nThen the farmer had a tale which had been told him by a groom he had\nonce in his service, who came from the hill above Charing. Up over the\nhill there was a reputed witch, Mrs. Dorland.\n\nI questioned the groom about this woman myself, so I may as well give\nthe story in his own words.\n\n\"She were a noted witch, she were,\" he said.\n\n\"How do you know?\" I asked, not because I myself doubted for a moment,\nbut because I wanted to glean all the particulars I possibly could.\n\n\"Bless ye, sir,\" replied the youth, \"I knows all about it because o' my\ngrandfather. She wouldn't never let him alone. I expect he'd affronted\nher, one time or other. I recollect when I was a-staying along with him\nonce, and the door locked and all--he looked over the stairs and there,\nsure enough, was old Dame Dorland on the mat at the bottom, and her\neyes! oh they _glounded_ in her head, they did!\"\n\n\"But how did she get in?\" I asked.\n\n\"That's just what I want to know,\" answered the boy. \"The door was shut\nand fast locked; but there she was, anyhow. Another time my grandfather\nhad to drive some bullocks down to Ashford market, and he overtook Dame\nDorland. She had a basket on her arm, and she asked my grandfather to\ncarry it for her. He wouldn't. I expect he didn't know what bad game\nmight be up. Well, do you think he could keep his bullocks in the road,\nafter that? Not he: they was over the hedge, first one side and then\nanother, and then they was for running back. He couldn't do nothing\nwith them, so he turns back and offers to carry the old girl's basket.\nThen the bullocks was all right directly, and he hadn't no trouble in\ngetting them along all the way to Ashford.\"\n\nSince Farmer Barrett had lived all his life in a county where such\npeople as Dame Dorland were to be found, there can hardly be much\nsurprise felt at his entire and implicit belief in witchcraft.\n\nBut the most wonderful tale that he ever told me was that which not\nonly concerned the county, but the very district in which he dwelt. It\nis a story to which I listened with intense interest when first I heard\nit, and my interest was never lessened by its repetition.\n\nAgain and again I asked the old farmer to go over it once more, and I\ncross-examined him upon all the particulars of his tale in a manner\nwhich would really have offended some people of my acquaintance. He,\nhowever, was not only not offended, but pleased at the perseverance\nwith which I questioned him.\n\nHe told me the story, in fact, so often, that I got to know it nearly\nby heart; and I think it is one which I ought to relate for the benefit\nof a world, in which, as far as I can see, belief of any kind, and\ncertainly belief in witches and the like, will shortly be extinct.\n\nThe parish of Mersham has long been known as a favourite resort of\nqueer people of the kind of whom I am speaking. It is a very long,\nnarrow parish: much narrower, of course, at some parts than others.\n\nIts north end runs into and beyond the park of Mersham Hatch--that is,\nthe west side of the park, the east side being in the parishes of\nBrabourne and Smeeth. The south part of the parish joins Bilsington and\nAldington, and on the south west you are very close upon the Ruckinge\nand Orlestone big woods--so close that I am not sure whether a portion\nof that vast tract of woodland does not actually lie within the\nboundaries of the parish of Mersham. Be that as it may, it is a wild\npart of the world, and just the very sort of place in which you would\nfancy witches and their confederates to abound. Whether you fancy it or\nnot, however, beyond all doubt such was the case, in the good old times\nof which I speak.\n\nNo one ever dreamed of being out at night in those parts if he could\npossibly help it. The roads were wretchedly bad, full of deep ruts and\nbig stones, with ditches inconveniently exposed on either side, and\nbushes jutting out from the adjoining woods in the most awkward manner\nfor the traveller.\n\nBut it was not the badness of the roads which deterred people from\nmoving about at night, or towards evening, but something much worse,\nnamely the strange and terrible beings who frequented the locality.\n\nAll kinds of rumours were current with respect to witch meetings, and\ngatherings held by wicked creatures, upon which, if a mortal man of\nordinary mould happened to come, he ran a terrible risk of some\ndreadful misfortune happening to him and his, shortly afterwards.\n\nCottages were few and far between: there was scarce a public house to\nbe found in the neighbourhood, save one or two which had an evil\nreputation as the haunt of smugglers and outlawed men.\n\nNo gentleman's house was near, and Bilsington Priory had passed away\nwith all its holy train of priests, and nothing was to be seen of their\nformer glory, and no vestige of themselves either, unless it was true\nthat a monk walked occasionally round the walls with ghostly tread, and\nmoaned, deeply and sadly, as he compared the past with the present. In\nshort, it was a wild, weird country, and wild, weird people dwelt\nthere.\n\nFrom Aldington Knoll, right away down to the other side of Ham-street,\nthe thick woods contained a class of beings who, if they lived there\nnowadays, would be a horror to all Christian men, and an intolerable\nnuisance to the Kent County Constabulary. There were, however, honest\nmen there, as everywhere else; and, although for the most part such\npeople preferred to dwell nearer Mersham-street or immediately below\nthe church, yet the scattered cottages further south were not\naltogether without inmates, who, having nowhere else to live, lived\nthere.\n\nJohn Gower was one of these, a respectable middle-aged man, who won his\nbread by the sweat of his brow, and was proud of the name of a Kentish\nlabourer.\n\nJohn had married early in life, lost his wife after the birth of their\nfourth child, and remained a widower ever since. Although he could\nneither read nor write, he was blessed with good common sense, and was\nable to give his children plain and sensible advice, which might serve\nthem, he said, in as good stead as book-learning, if they would only\nlay it to heart and act upon it.\n\nHis eldest girl, Mary, was as good a girl as you would meet in a day's\njourney. She had her good looks (as most Mersham girls have), but she\nhad that which is even better than good looks, an even temper and a\ngood disposition. She was about seventeen when our story begins; her\nbrother Jack, between fifteen and sixteen, was away at work \"down in\nthe sheers\" (shires), as the neighbours called all other counties but\ntheir own; and two little ones, Jane, under fourteen, and Billy, just\ntwelve, were at home, the former helping her sister as well as she\ncould, and the latter doing such odd jobs as could be found for him,\nand doing no more mischief than a boy of his age could help.\n\nThe cottage in which they lived was very near the big woods--too near\nto be pleasant for anyone who feared witches or wizards--and it must be\nconfessed that John Gower was not without his fears.\n\nHe had various horse-shoes nailed up about his premises to keep the\nevil creatures off, and he carefully barred his doors and windows every\nnight, not knowing what might happen if any of them were left open. He\ncould tell of strange cries heard in the woods at night, and if you\nsuggested that they might proceed from owls, he shook his head sadly\nand gravely, as one who knew better, and grieved over your doubting\nspirit.\n\nBut in spite of his fears and precautions, and the strange locality in\nwhich he lived, Gower could not be called otherwise than a cheerful\nman. He worked all day, got home as soon as he could, was pleasant and\nhappy with his children (of whom he was very fond), and was certainly\nof a contented disposition, and one who made the best of the world and\ntook things as he found them.\n\nSuch was he and such was his family at the time that the occurrences\ntook place which I am about to relate.\n\nSome years before the date at which our story commences, there had\nlived at the extreme south of the parish of Mersham a woman of the name\nof Betty Bartlet. She was not only a reputed witch, but the fact of her\nbeing so was testified to by a great number of credible witnesses who\nhad either suffered in their own persons from her evil power, or had\nseen and heard things which could not have been had she been an\nordinary and Christian woman.\n\nShe lived to a very great age--nobody knew exactly how old she was when\nshe died; and, although the rumours respecting her career caused the\nclergyman of the Parish to entertain serious doubts as to the course he\nshould pursue, she was eventually carried to Mersham churchyard to be\ntherein interred.\n\nBut if I am correctly informed--and I obtained my information from\nhighly respectable people--there were strange and terrible doings at\nher funeral.\n\nShe was carried on a waggon, from the cottage in which she had breathed\nher last, as far as the bridge over the river Stour, which flows, as\nall the world knows, a few hundred yards south of the church. There,\nfrom some unknown cause, the horses would not cross the bridge; and it\nwas told me that they seemed quite exhausted with the short\njourney--little over three miles--which they had performed.\n\nSo the people unharnessed them from the waggon, placed all that\nremained of old Betty on the shoulders of eight stout bearers, and\nmarched forward towards the churchyard. But not only was their burden\nwondrously heavy, but it seemed to grow heavier as they went on, and\nthey had the greatest difficulty in making their way up the short hill,\nand so round to the right towards the churchyard. And just before they\ngot to the gate, why or wherefore nobody could tell, one of the bearers\nstumbled, and in doing so tripped up another, and down came the whole\nconcern with a great crash upon the ground. Everything connected with\ntheir burden suddenly disappeared: a vast cloud of black dust arose and\nblew all over the place, and out of the dust flew a great black bird,\nwith a strange and awful croak, with which it terribly frightened the\nbystanders and bearers, as it flew off directly in the contrary\ndirection to the churchyard.\n\nWhat happened immediately afterwards Farmer Barrett never heard, or, at\nleast, he never told me, but nobody ever doubted that the old witch had\nflown off in the shape of the black, fearsome bird, being unable to\nenter the holy ground of the churchyard. Be this as it may, the ancient\nwoman left behind her three daughters, who had all inherited their\nmother's wickedness, and were witches every one of them. Their actual\nnames were Betty, Jane, and Sarah, but they were popularly known as\nSkinny, Bony, and Humpy, the two elder sisters being thin and gaunt,\nwhilst the youngest was shorter, and had a species of hump between her\nshoulders.\n\nEvery one in Mersham, and, for the matter of that, in the adjoining\nparishes also, knew these three sisters by sight, and avoided them as\nmuch as possible. No conceivable misfortune ever happened in that\nneighbourhood that was not attributed to their influence, and all that\nwent wrong was immediately laid at their door.\n\nThe sisters were well aware of the awe with which the neighbours\nregarded them, and took good care that it should not diminish, never\nlosing an opportunity of frightening those simple people with whom they\ncame in contact. They lived in a long, low cottage--scarcely worthy of\nthe name of cottage--so miserable was it both as regards the outside\nbuilding and the inside accommodation. The roof was of thatch, and the\ndwelling itself was at one end built of Kentish rag-stone, but badly\nconstructed, and all the rest of it was composed entirely of wood, and\napparently afforded but poor shelter against wind and rain.\n\nThe women lived mostly at the stone-built end of their house, for there\nwas their kitchen, such as it was; but very little was known of the\ninterior of this place, inasmuch as nobody came near it who could\npossibly go another way. It was situate, however, barely half a mile\nfrom John Gower's cottage, a fact which caused him and his no little\nannoyance, inasmuch as the three Crones of Mersham, as they were\nusually called, were not the best of neighbours, and never very\nparticular as far as other people's property was concerned.\n\nNow John Gower had a great number of relations; in fact there was and\nis an old proverb in his native parish, to the effect that \"if you know\nthe Gowers, you know all Mersham;\" and certainly the knowledge would to\nthis day make you acquainted with a large quantity of people.\n\nThey were none of them rich relations, certainly, unless you might have\napplied that adjective to the wife of a certain Farmer Long who lived a\nfew miles off, and whose husband might certainly be said to be\nthriving.\n\nSally Long was a stout, comfortable-looking dame, who could not fairly\nhave found fault if you had called her fat, but who, unlike most fat\npeople, was not gifted with the best of tempers. If all reports were\ntrue, she led her husband rather a life of it, and scolded pretty\nequally all her household. She had no children, and her husband's son\nby a former wife being a trifle weak in the head, and for that reason\ngenerally known by the name of \"Simple Steenie,\" there was no one to\ndispute her authority in house, yard or farm.\n\nThese worthy people lived in the parish of Aldington, and although John\nGower was no looker after dead men's shoes, and a man who would have\nscorned to bow down before any one for the sake of their wealth, he\nthought it was but right and fair towards his children to encourage\nthem to maintain friendly relations with his distant cousin, Dame Long.\n\nShe had noticed the children more than once, when they were quite\nlittle things; and when a woman of a certain age, with no children of\nher own, notices the children of other people, who happen to be her own\nrelations, there is no telling what may come of it. So the boys had\norders to take their caps off and the girls to drop a respectful\ncurtsey whenever they passed Mrs. Long, and any little act of civility\nwhich they could possibly perform was never forgotten.\n\nNow it happened that someone, many years ago, had given to the Gower\nfamily a very particular cat. When I use the word \"particular,\" I do\nnot mean to imply a very strict or fastidious cat, but one that was\nparticular in the sense of being different from the general run of\ncats, which was certainly true of this individual cat.\n\nShe was jet black, which you will say is not at all uncommon; but\nFarmer Barrett always maintained that no cats that he ever heard of\nwere _so_ jet and so glossy as the Gower cats. She was a magnificent\nanimal: her whiskers unusually long, her tail splendidly bushy, her\nbody beautifully and symmetrically made, and her head, in size, shape,\nand the intelligence which was displayed upon her face, little short of\nperfection.\n\nThis cat lived until a great age, and nobody exactly knew when or where\nit died. To tell the truth there was always a legend in the Gower\nfamily that it never _did_ die, at least not in their cottage, but that\nit disappeared on the very day of old Betty Bartlet's death.\n\nI do not know--for Farmer Barrett could not tell me, though I asked him\nmore than once--how they connected the two events, but nevertheless\nthey had this legend, if so I may call it.\n\nBut whatever happened to this cat, of one thing there is certainly no\ndoubt, namely, that during her lifetime she several times went through\nthe ceremony of kittening, and that her race seemed by no means likely\nto be extinct. Her kittens were always black, always very glossy and\nalways remarkably clever and intelligent, and people were always glad\nto get a kitten of the Gower breed.\n\nSo when, upon a fine summer's morning, one of the descendants of the\nfamous animal of which I have spoken was found by John Gower with a\nlittle family of four kittens around her, he and his children were not\ndispleased at the addition to their household. And when, after a few\ndays, one of these kittens appeared to be developing into an animal\nmore comely and more sprightly than the rest, the worthy man thought it\nwould be a proper and becoming compliment upon his part if he made a\npresent of it to good Mrs. Long.\n\nSo he told Mary that she should take it up in a little basket the very\nnext day, give his \"duty\" to \"old aunt Sally\" (for so they called her\nin the cottage when they spoke of her among themselves, though it was\nalways \"Mrs. Long\" when they spoke _to_ her) and ask her acceptance of\nthe gift. Mary made her preparations accordingly. She could not go up\nto the farm in the morning, for she had the rooms to \"do,\" the house to\nsweep, father's dinner to get ready and carry to him, and a number of\nlittle jobs to get done which it was necessary to finish before she\ncould feel herself at liberty to go out.\n\nAt last, however, every duty seemed to have been discharged, as is\nalways the case, at some time or other, if people will only set\nthemselves at work to do resolutely that which they have before them to\ndo, instead of sitting down with folded hands and sighing over the\nprospect of it.\n\nIt must have been between three and four o'clock in the afternoon when\nMary found that she could get away with a clear conscience. Then she\nput on her little straw hat, donned her grey cloak, put the kitten in a\nlittle basket with a little hay for it to lie on, and called her\nbrother Billy to come with her, wisely thinking this the most likely\nway to keep him out of mischief.\n\nIt was a truly glorious afternoon, such as an English summer's\nafternoon often is.\n\n\"Talk to me about foreign countries,\" as Farmer Barrett often used to\nsay, snapping his fingers audibly, \"_that_ for your furrineerers; there\nan't no land like old England, to my mind;\" and, being myself old and\nprejudiced, I confess that I am very much of the good old farmer's\nopinion.\n\nIt is very charming, no doubt, to roam through foreign lands, and there\nis doubtless much to admire. When I shut my eyes and muse over\nbeautiful views that I have seen, many such come back to me with\npleasing memories.\n\nI see the sparkling Rhine with castle-crowned heights, and scenery\nworld-worshipped for its varied beauty; I gaze with a delight tempered\nwith awe upon the mighty snow-clad mountains of life-breathing\nSwitzerland; I sit upon the shores of the sea of seas, the\nMediterranean, and I cast my eyes upon its waters of eternal blue; and,\nmost wonderful sight of all, I stand upon the plateau opposite the\nCascatelle at Tivoli, and, with the waterfall and town on one side,\nAdrian's Villa nestling below on the left, and the hills behind, look\nout over the vast Campagna with its ever-changing lights, see\nRome--grand, glorious Rome--in the far distance, and feel carried out\nof myself and away from all ideas of mere earth and earthly things as I\nlose all individuality of being in the absorbing contemplation of a\nbeauty so divinely sublime.\n\nAnd then--as the magic power of thought enables me to move faster than\nrailroads, steamers, or electric telegraphs--I suddenly transport\nmyself to a quiet, homely, English scene upon a summer's afternoon; and\nI think to myself that neither the Rhine, Switzerland, nor Italy can\nproduce anything more pleasing to the eye, more soothing to the senses,\nor more entirely enjoyable to any person capable of enjoyment, and not\ngiven to despise the beauties of scenery merely because they can be\nseen at home without hurrying off to foreign lands.\n\n[Illustration: MARY AND BILLY MEET THE CRONES.--P. 305]\n\nSuch a summer's afternoon fell on this particular day of which we are\nnow speaking. There was hardly a breath of air, but the woods having\ngot their shady green dress on, kept off the heat of the sun from the\ntraveller on the road which intersected them. It was very warm, though,\nand very still; and you might hear the voices of the woodland birds,\nsinging in notes which seemed somewhat subdued, as if the heat forbade\nthe songsters to exert themselves to their full strength.\n\nBut, warm as it was, there was a very pleasant feeling in the air.\nNature seemed to be basking in the sun and thoroughly enjoying\nherself--the rabbits hopped across the road as quietly as if there were\nno such things as weasels in the world, and keepers had never existed:\nthe old jay flitted heavily from tree to tree, her hard note softened\ndown to a low guttural sound--all insect life was on the move, and\nevery living being seemed to delight in the genial weather.\n\nOf course, under these circumstances, Mary and Billy Gower did not walk\nvery fast. On the contrary, they rather dawdled, for Billy saw now and\nthen a butterfly, now and then a birds' nest, and was constantly\ntempted to leave the road and dive into the woods on either side,\nwhilst his sister did not like to hurry on and leave him, and saw no\nreason for particular haste.\n\nThey passed along for some way without adventure, until Aldington Knoll\ncame in sight, although they were still in the shady lanes of their own\nparish. Then, on turning a corner, they came suddenly upon two figures\napproaching them from the opposite direction, that is to say, as if\nthey had come from Aldington Knoll. The children needed no second\nglance to tell them that they were in the presence of two of the\nMersham crone. \"Lanky\" and \"Skinny\" were the lovely pair whom they had\nthe good fortune thus to meet, and the children felt by no means\ncomfortable when they saw them. Mary, indeed, being now seventeen, and\nhardly to be deemed a child any longer, felt no babyish fear at the\nsight of the old women. She was, as I have said, a good sort of girl,\nand one who tried to do her duty; and she had a feeling within her (as\nsuch people generally have) that as long as she did so, no great harm\nwould be allowed to happen to her.\n\nBut, as for little Billy, who had occasionally been threatened, when\nnaughty, that he should be given to the crones, he could by no means be\nrestrained from great manifestations of fear. He trembled greatly as\nsoon as he saw the two, clutched hold of his sister's gown, and begged\nher to turn back and run away, as they were still forty or fifty yards\nfrom the old women. This, however, would have been contrary to Mary's\nsense of right.\n\nShe had been sent by her father to perform a certain duty, and that\nduty, come what would, she meant to discharge, unless prevented by\nsuperior force. So she trudged on steadily along the road, and her\nbrother accompanied her, probably because he thought it the least of\ntwo evils, and was too much terrified to run away. As they neared the\ntwo crones, they could not but feel that there was nothing either\nprepossessing or agreeable in the appearance of the latter.\n\nTheir clothes were untidy and ill-fitting: each had a kind of hood half\ndrawn over her head; but not sufficiently so as to conceal her\ndecidedly ugly features, whilst a certain wild, haggard look, which sat\nupon their faces, was anything but calculated to put the traveller at\nhis ease. They walked, or rather crawled, along one side of the road,\nand close behind them followed a gaunt cat, which, if formerly black,\nwas now gray with age, and which wore upon its face the same haggard\nlook which was so plainly discernible upon those of the hags\nthemselves.\n\nMary and Billy walked quietly on, and were just passing these strange\nbeings, and really beginning to hope they might be allowed to do so\nwithout interruption, when they were suddenly pulled up by the harsh\nvoice of the crone nearest to them, who called out \"Stop!\" in a voice\nharsher than the croak of a raven, but with such a tone of authority\nthat no thought of disobeying her entered the head of either of those\nshe addressed even for a single moment.\n\n\"Stop, young people!\" she said a second time; \"whither away so fast\nthis afternoon?\"\n\nMary civilly replied, \"We are going up to Farmer Long's, ma'am; father\nsent us.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied the crone; \"going up to Farmer Long's for father, are ye,\nmy chickens? Fine times, forsooth, when John Gower's children go\nvisiting instead of minding their business at home. But pray, what have\nyou got in that basket, my pretty Minnikin?\"\n\n\"Only a kitten, ma'am, that father is going to give to Aunt Sal--I mean\nto Mrs. Long,\" replied the girl.\n\n\"_Only_ a kitten!\" cried the other crone, who had not yet spoken;\n\"_only_ a kitten, indeed! and how does John Gower the labourer have\nkittens to give away, I should like to know? Our poor old Grimalkin\nhere has lost a kitten lately--I wonder whether this can be the same,\nstrayed over to John Gower's house. If he _had_ a kitten to give away,\nhe might have thought of his poor neighbours, methinks, instead of the\nrich farmer's wife!\"\n\nWhen Mary heard these words she begin to tremble for the safety of her\nkitten, for as I have already remarked, the Crones of Mersham were not\nfamous for distinguishing clearly between other people's property and\ntheir own.\n\nSo she made reply very quickly in these words: \"Please, ma'am, this\nkitten can't be your cat's, because we've known it ever since it was\nborn, and its mother too, and it has never been out of our charge yet.\"\n\n\"No matter, no matter,\" said the crone in a testy voice; \"let me see\nit, and I shall soon know all about it.\"\n\nMary did not dare refuse, nor would it have been of much use if she had\ndone so.\n\nThe crone stretched out her long, skinny hand, and lifting the\nbasket-lid, saw the little black kitten; which, immediately that it saw\nher, crouched down in the corner of the basket and uttered a low\nmoaning sound.\n\n\"Poor little thing!\" said the old hag. \"Poor little thing! I can hardly\nsee it so. Look, sister Jane!\" and the other crone came and peered also\ninto the basket, whilst the kitten continued to crouch and moan.\n\n\"The very image of our grimalkin, I do declare!\" cried the second crone\nafter a moment. \"It _must_ be hers--there can be no doubt at all about\nit.\"\n\nSo saying, she put her hand down and stroked the back of the kitten, as\nif about to take it out of the basket.\n\nAs soon as she touched it, however, the little animal, young as it was,\nappeared to go into a paroxysm of fear and fury; it growled and spit,\nmade as if it would spring out of the basket, and suddenly inflicted a\nsevere scratch on the hand which was about to seize it.\n\nThe old woman's face immediately became distorted with rage, and as she\nhastily withdrew her hand, she fixed her eyes steadily upon the kitten,\nmuttering at the same time some words which the children could not\nunderstand, but which sounded in their ears like anything but a prayer.\nNeither of the crones, however, tried further to interfere with the\nkitten, but begged of the children to give them money, saying that they\nwere nearly starving.\n\nBilly of course had nothing, and Mary only a penny, but she thought it\nbest to give that for fear of being bewitched if she refused; so,\nsorrowfully enough, the poor child drew out her only coin and placed it\nin the hand of one of the hags, who grinned frightfully by way of\nthanks, and allowed the children to proceed on their way--although\nbefore they did so they could not help noticing the strange conduct of\ngrimalkin, who threw herself on the side of the road, turned over and\nover, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and appeared to be convulsed with\nlaughter at all that had occurred.\n\nMary and Billy, however, glad to have got away from the old women,\nhurried forward towards Farmer Long's dwelling.\n\nBut now the conduct of the kitten became inexplicable. Up to the time\nof their meeting the crones, it had behaved like a decent little animal\nof tender years, nestling quietly in its basket, and giving no trouble\nto anybody.\n\nIt now took quite a different course. It moaned and whined as if it\nwanted to get out--it pushed against the basket, first on one side and\nthen on the other, as if trying to force its way through, and behaved\nin all respects as if it was a mad kitten,--although, as I never saw a\nmad kitten, I am not sure how they _do_ behave exactly--but this was\nFarmer Barrett's expression, and a man of his years and experience was\nnot likely to be wrong.\n\nBut more than this, although the kitten was young and small, and had\ntherefore been very light and easy to carry, scarcely had the children\npassed the crones than its weight seemed to increase vastly, and it\nbecame four times as heavy as before, until poor Mary's arm quite ached\nwith carrying it.\n\nBilly, seeing her trouble, advised her to turn it out into the woods;\nbut Mary would not do this, being determined to obey her father's\norders, so she trudged steadily on until they came to the farm to which\nthey had been sent.\n\nThere they asked if Mrs. Long was at home, and were presently ushered\ninto the presence of that good lady, to whom they told the object of\ntheir visit. She received them very graciously, and expressed herself\nmuch pleased with John Gower's attention in sending her the kitten,\nsaying that she had always desired to have one of that breed.\n\nThey opened the basket, and she was going to take the creature out,\nwhen it looked her straight in the face, and she drew back her hand at\nonce.\n\n\"Lawkes! child!\" she said to Mary; \"how the thing's eyes do shine! Like\nlive coals of fire, I do declare. I never seen such eyes in all my born\ndays, that I never did!\"\n\nAs she spoke, the kitten saved her the trouble of removing it from the\nbasket by jumping out of its own accord on to the table, where it sat\nglowering at the party, and making a low noise between a purr and a\ngrowl, until Mrs. Long brought it some milk, with which it proceeded to\nregale itself, and the children, having had a slice of cake each, and\nbeen duly charged with the good lady's thanks to their father, took\ntheir departure, and reached the cottage without further adventure.\n\nNow I verily believe that the doings of that kitten at Farmer Long's\nfarm were of such a wonderful and unheard of character that a whole\nbook, and a very amusing book, too, might be written about them. But\npeople did not write many books in those days, and Farmer Barrett could\nnot recollect many particulars about this part of his story. At all\nevents, there can be no doubt (to use his own expression) that the\nanimal's \"tantrums\" were extraordinary; the cream was constantly\ndevoured, and the best cream-jug broken on one occasion, in order to\nget at it; the milk was for ever being upset; the marks of dirty paws\nwere daily to be seen on clean table cloths, or on the counterpanes of\nbeds just made, and, in short, just wherever they ought not to be.\n\nMrs. Long's best cap, having mysteriously disappeared one afternoon,\nwas seen in the kitten's clutches upon the hearthrug, a perfect wreck\nof a cap, and useless for ever afterwards. Then the perverse little\nanimal appeared to entertain a strong and marked partiality for young\nducks and chickens, which she ruthlessly murdered whenever she could\nlay her paws upon them, neglecting to touch any of the rats upon which\nher energies might have been much more beneficially employed.\n\nDay by day depredations were committed, all of which were attributed to\nthe kitten, and most of which were probably perpetrated by her. From\nthe moment of her arrival at the farm, nothing seemed to prosper with\nthe Longs.\n\nEverything turned out just the reverse way to that which they had\nhoped, and it really seemed as if some evil spell had been cast upon\nthem. Looking calmly back upon the whole history, I have no doubt at\nall but that the crones had bewitched the kitten when they met the\nchildren on that memorable afternoon, and that to this must be\nattributed all that afterwards occurred.\n\nHowever this may be, it was certainly an unlucky day for the Longs when\nthat kitten came upon their premises, and that they very soon found\nout.\n\nStill, people do not always put the saddle upon the right horse\nimmediately, and they did not at first believe that the animal had\nanything to do with their ill-luck. Mrs. Long, however, who had an eye\nto business, could not stand the constant inroad upon her ducks and\nchickens, to say nothing of the cream-jug, and the loss of her cap very\nnearly brought matters to a climax.\n\nShe might perhaps, however, have borne it a little longer, had not an\nevent occurred which was really beyond anybody's bearing. One morning,\nwhen the worthy couple were at breakfast, the kitten calmly jumped on\nto the table, seized a piece of bacon which the farmer was about to\nplace upon his own plate, and deliberately carried it off.\n\nAfter this it was quite evident that she must be got rid of. No man can\nstand being robbed of his breakfast in such a barefaced manner, and the\ngood farmer spoke up pretty strongly on the subject. As the breed was\nsupposed to be a particularly good one, he did not order the animal to\nbe killed, nor indeed would he have ventured to do so unless his wife\nhad especially wished it, but he expressed himself in forcible terms as\nto the desirability of its quitting his premises with as little delay\nas possible.\n\nMrs. Long had by this time become so entirely of the same opinion, that\nshe resolved to take immediate steps to carry out the joint views of\nher husband and herself. She accordingly directed that the cart should\nbe got ready the same afternoon, and that Tom the Bailiff should drive\nher down to Mersham, where she determined to restore the kitten to the\nGowers with her own hands.\n\nAccordingly, at the appointed time the cart was brought round, old\nDapple, the steady pony, was in it, and Tom prepared to drive. Mrs.\nLong got in, and the kitten, who had shown an unwonted and marvellous\ndocility in submitting to be placed once more in a basket, was safely\ndeposited in her lap.\n\nOff they went, out of the farmyard into the lane, and taking a turn\nwhich brought them near to Aldington Knoll, descended towards the woods\nthrough which runs the road from Mersham and Aldington to the canal,\nand so away across Romney Marsh to Dymchurch.\n\nYou must understand that Tom and his mistress were heading away from\nthe canal, only they had come into that road in order to reach the\nlower part of Mersham, in which was situate John Gower's cottage. So\nwhen they came past Aldington Knoll, and descended the hill, the marsh\nroad led back to the left, nearly parallel with that from which they\ncame, whilst they pushed straight forward along the road through the\nwoods.\n\nAs soon as they got well into the wood, or rather, into the road on\neach side of which the wood was wide and thick, old Dapple began to\nshow visible signs of uneasiness. He swerved first on one side of the\nroad, and then on the other, abandoning all the good, quiet habits of a\nrespectable middle-aged pony, and behaving much more like a giddy young\ncolt who had never been broken to harness.\n\nTom the Bailiff who was a simple country lout, did not know what to\nmake of it, and was both confused and frightened when his mistress\nbegan to tell him that it was only his bad driving. But this was\nevidently not the case. Dapple wanted very little driving at all, and\nthe best \"whip\" in the world could not have kept him straight when he\nwas in the mood which seemed now to have possessed him. Another cause\nalso disquieted good Mrs. Long.\n\nThe kitten began to fidget in her basket in a most unaccountable way,\nand to give vent to various discordant sounds, whilst the weight upon\nthe good lady's knees, as the basket had been on Mary's arm, was really\nunpleasantly heavy.\n\nThey managed to get through the wood somehow or other, until they were\nwell out of the parish of Aldington and had entered that of Mersham.\nHere all their troubles increased--the kitten's struggles were more\nviolent than before, and Dapple became perfectly unmanageable, until\nall at once they perceived a large black cat upon one side of the road,\nwhich suddenly darted in front of the cart, and so startled the pony\nthat he shied quite across the road, brought the wheel of the cart over\nthe side of the ditch, and in another moment it was overset and its\noccupants were tumbled into the brambles and bushes with which the\nditch was choked.\n\nHad it been winter, or had there been much rain lately, poor Mrs. Long\nwould probably have been drowned, or at best would only have escaped\nwith a severe ducking. As it was, the principal risk of life or limb\nshe ran was from the kicking of the pony and as Dapple was too fat to\nindulge in any great manifestations of this kind, she was tolerably\nsafe from personal injury.\n\nBut a stout woman overturned into a ditch full of brambles, is, after\nall, a pitiable object, and is not likely to be improved either in\ntemper or in appearance by the event. So as soon as the good lady could\nscramble up into a sitting position she began to abuse everybody and\neverything to the best of her ability, which was not inconsiderable\nwhen applied to such an attempt. She told Tom he should certainly \"get\nthe sack\" as soon as they got home; she declared Dapple was old and\nworn out, and only fit to draw the dung-cart in future, and she abused\nthe kitten in no measured terms.\n\nBut where was the kitten? In the tumble and scrimmage, the lid of the\nbasket had come off, and the animal had disappeared. Disappeared,\nhowever, only for a moment, for Tom the bailiff suddenly exclaimed in a\nterrified voice,--\n\n\"Look'ee, missis, do look'ee now--there be our kitten sure-ly!\" and\ncasting up her eyes, Mrs. Long beheld--or at least so she always\ndeclared to her dying day--the kitten, seated upon the back of the\nlarge black cat which had been the cause of their disaster, and which\nwas now careering full tilt down the road with this rider upon it.\n\nThe old lady, being brave as she was stout (which is saying a great\ndeal) felt nothing but rage when she saw what had happened, not only at\nthe impudence of the cat, but because this occurrence threw a light\nupon the past, and at once opened her eyes to the truth, and disclosed\nthe reason of the kitten's abominable behaviour at the farm.\n\nAfter a moment's pause she broke out in great wrath:\n\n\"It's them crones!\" she cried in loud and excited tones. \"It's them\ncrones, or some like 'em! That kitten's been bewitched--that's what\ncome to it, Tom, you may depend upon't. Drat them witches!\" Scarcely\nwere the words out of her mouth when she shrieked loudly--\"Ah-a-ah!\"\n\n\"What's the matter, missis?\" said Tom.\n\n\"Why,\" replied she, \"something scratched me;\" and pointing to her arm,\nthe sleeve around which had been pushed up high in her struggles to sit\nupright, there indeed was a long, red scratch as if inflicted by the\nnail of a hand or the claw of an angry cat.\n\nTo be sure, a lady who is seated in the middle of a bed of brambles\ncannot be expected to escape unscratched, and no supernatural agency\nneed be invoked in order to produce such a misfortune. Still Mrs. Long\nalways declared that this was no bramble scratch, and coming as it did\nat the very moment when she was speaking strongly against the witches,\nthere could be very little doubt as to the source from which the injury\nreally came. However, witches or no witches, it was impossible to sit\nall the livelong afternoon in a ditch full of brambles, so with much\ndifficulty and many struggles, Mrs. Long contrived to get up, and Tom\nthe Bailiff having looked to Dapple, found there was no very serious\ndamage done either to him or to the cart. So they righted the latter,\nand having got into it, proceeded on their journey.\n\nTrue it was that there was now no kitten to take back to the Gowers,\nbut the farmer's wife was determined to let them know the extraordinary\nmanner in which the animal had conducted itself, and had a great\ndislike to turning back without reaching the place for which she had\nstarted. So she directed Tom to drive on along the cross road which\nleads from the Aldington woods to Bilsington, and comes out into the\nmain road from Mersham to Romney Marsh. At that point, if you turn to\nthe left you can go to the Marsh, or to Ruckinge and Orlestone by a\nroad which lies a little further south, and if you turn to the right,\nyou pass through the end of the great range of woods which occupy so\nmuch of that district, and presently come from Bilsington into Mersham.\n\nOf course it was to the right that Mrs. Long turned, having made a kind\nof half-circle round Bilsington Priory, which was thus at her right\nhand all the time.\n\nIt is necessary to be thus particular, in order that no innocent parish\nmay be wrongfully suspected of having harboured the strange and wicked\ncreatures whose power was almost entirely confined to parts of Mersham,\nBilsington and Aldington, and some parishes further west on the borders\nof the Marsh. A good name is a great possession, and the adjacent\nparishes of Sevington, Hinxhill, Smeeth and Sellinge have always been\nso free from the worst class of witches that, in writing of this\nneighbourhood, one wishes to be precise.\n\nAfter they had turned to the right, as I say, a short mile brought our\ntravellers to John Gower's cottage; but before they reached it, they\nhad to pass within a hundred yards or so of the abode of the crones, to\nwhich a very little-frequented by-road led, branching off from the road\non which they were driving. It showed courage in Mrs. Long to take this\nroute, especially after what had happened, but she was naturally a bold\nwoman, and perhaps she thought that the witches had probably done all\nthat they cared to do in having overturned her cart once, and stolen\nher kitten.\n\nBe this as it may, she reckoned without her host, for Dapple, who had\nbeen quiet enough since the accident, began to grow restive again as\nthey neared the part of the road which I have mentioned, and, when\nwithin fifty yards of it, suddenly stopped and refused to move an inch.\n\nTom the Bailiff laid the whip over the pony's back with a will, but the\nonly effect was to make him rear and back, so that they were in\nimminent danger of a disaster similar to the first. Then, to make\nmatters worse, there arose a cloud of fog before them, which was so\nthick they could see nothing, and had a disagreeable smell of smoke\nabout it. Whence or wherefore it came they could not tell, for the sun\nwas still high in the heavens and the sky above their heads clear and\nblue.\n\nIt was evident that something evil was at hand and at work, and neither\nMrs. Long nor her servant knew what to make of it.\n\nPresently the good lady called out angrily, \"How dare you pinch my arm,\nTom?\" and gave a short, sharp scream as she said so.\n\n\"Oh, don't, please don't, missis!\" cried the man at the same moment, as\na hand hit him a cruel box on the ear.\n\nIt need scarcely be said that neither of the occupants of the cart had\ntouched the other; but the matter did not end there. Pinches, pushes,\nscratches, thumps, hair-pulling, and kicking began to a most\nextraordinary extent.\n\nNo one could be seen, but invisible hands assailed both Mrs. Long and\nTom so fiercely and so vigorously, that they both shouted aloud with\npain and terror, whilst, as if in answer to their cries, hoarse\nchuckles and deep bursts of laughter rang in their astonished ears,\nalthough no human being of any description was to be seen.\n\nNever was there a more unpleasant experience than that which the worthy\npair underwent, and how it would have ended I really cannot say, but\nfor an unlooked-for and fortunate event.\n\nAll of a sudden the pinching and beating ceased, the laughter came to\nan end, and the fog or cloud disappeared, as it had come, by magic, as\na cheery voice shouted out, close at hand,--\n\n\"Halloo! who is this making such a noise in the road. My good people,\nit is too bad that you should let drink get the better of you in this\nway!\"\n\nGlancing indignantly round, they beheld no less a person than the\nworthy rector of Mersham himself, riding upon a stout gray cob, and\nevidently coming home from some expedition to the further extremity of\nhis parish.\n\nMrs. Long knew not what reply to make, but as soon as she recovered\nherself sufficiently, she answered the appeal.\n\n\"I am sure, sir, there is no call to say a word about drink, to which\nsome folk lays everything that happens, be it what it will. But if\nyou'd keep your parish clear of these here witches, you'd find things\ngo a good deal better!\"\n\nThe clergyman gravely shook his head.\n\n\"You must know, my good woman,\" he replied, \"that there are no such\nbeings as witches, and you ought not to wrong elderly and respectable\nfemales by using such terms. There is nobody here, and nothing to\nhinder your journey. I am quite ashamed to see you stopping your cart\nin the middle of the road and quarrelling as has evidently been the\ncase. Take my advice, and get home as fast as you can.\" So saying, the\ngood man passed the cart and began to trot gently on.\n\nDapple, as if his difficulties were suddenly over, and his objections\nto advance removed, immediately started after the rector's cob, and\nthus they passed the dreaded by-road without further trouble. But to\nher dying day, Mrs. Long always declared that she was sure they never\nwould have got past if the rector hadn't come along just when he did.\nThis shows the great and proper respect for the clergy which then\nexisted, and is, moreover, a proof that Mrs. Long was a decent and\nrespectable woman, whose word may be taken as establishing beyond doubt\nthe truth of the events which I have undertaken to relate. But it lay\nheavy on her soul, for many a long day, that the reverend man should\nhave thought she had been drinking, and made her more than ever angry\nwith the crones whose wicked dealings had caused such an imputation to\nrest upon her.\n\nThe rector had trotted briskly on, and was before long out of sight,\nbut the cart was soon close to John Gower's cottage, between which and\nthe road was a bit of waste land; it might be as much as two or three\nperches in size, for in those days every strip of land was not enclosed\nas it is now-a-days, but there were plenty of green patches by the side\nof the roads, and in many places you could ride on grass for miles\ntogether.\n\nIt is very different now, and although it may be said on the one hand\nthat we travel faster, witches are not heard of, and England is richer\nthan in those days; yet I often say to Jack Barrett that I think there\nwere a good many pleasant things in the old times, especially in\ncountry life, which we do not get now, and for my part I should not\nmind having them back again, even with a few witches here and there\nwith them, provided we could get rid of some of the strange new-fangled\nideas and curious goings on which we have got instead, and which are\nmuch worse for all of us, than a witch or two or even a stray wizard.\nWell, Mrs. Long told Tom the Bailiff to drive upon this bit of waste as\nnear to the garden gate of John Gower's cottage as he could manage to\nget, and then down she scrambled and went into the house. John had not\nyet come home from his work, though he was expected every moment; but\nMary received her guest with much civility, for she was a good-mannered\ngirl, and knew how to behave to her betters.\n\nSo she did the honours of the house, whilst her sister and Billy sat\nstill and listened. Mrs. Long was, as you may suppose, not exactly in\nthe best of humours, nor was her dress in precisely that condition in\nwhich ladies like their dresses to be when they go out visiting. You\ncannot be overturned into a ditch, scratched, pinched, hustled, and\npushed, without some little disarrangement of your attire, and Mrs.\nLong's dress consequently required a good deal of \"putting tidy,\" in\nwhich Mary Gower assisted her to the best of her ability. Whilst doing\nso, she listened to the account of all that had occurred since the day\nupon which she and Billy had left the kitten at the farm, and, upon\nbeing questioned by Mrs. Long as to the possible cause of its\nbehaviour, she told her of their having met the two crones as I have\ndescribed.\n\nThe farmer's wife then said that, had she known the circumstances, she\nwould have had nothing to do with the kitten; but that she did not\nblame Mary for not having told her, as of course she had not suspected\nthat there was anything wrong with the animal. As she spoke, in came\nJohn Gower from his work, and to him the whole story was soon told.\n\nJohn expressed his great regret at what had happened, and went so far\nas to offer the farmer's wife another kitten, but, under the\ncircumstances, she deemed it better to decline the offer; and,\npresently afterwards departed, taking good care to avoid the road by\nwhich she had come, and turning up instead by the road, at the corner\nof which the \"Good Intent\" public-house now stands; by which means she\nkept to the north of the big woods, and got safely home. Her adventure,\nhowever, made no little talk in the neighbourhood, and people shook\ntheir heads, gravely and wisely, whenever the matter was mentioned.\nMrs. Long herself was so angry at the disrespectful manner in which she\nhad been treated, and the unjust suspicion that had been raised in the\nclergyman's breast, that she could by no means be satisfied to rest\nquiet.\n\nBefore taking any steps, however, to get matters set right, she\ndetermined to make an expedition to Brabourne, where lived a wise woman\nnamed Goody Flaskett, from whom she obtained sundry charms against\nwitchcraft, with which she decorated herself, in order that she might\nbe able to speak and act against witches with impunity. Thus armed, she\nnever lost an opportunity of doing both the one and the other; and I\nsuppose the charms must have had a certain power, because Farmer\nBarrett declared that the good woman, when she had them on, never felt\nany of those strange scratches from invisible hands which she had\nexperienced when speaking against witches on the occasion already\nmentioned.\n\nStill, say and do what she would, the power of the Mersham crones did\nnot seem to be diminished. They seldom appeared all three together, but\nmight be said, generally, to \"hunt in couples,\" although sometimes they\nwere met singly, but hardly ever without a great black cat.\n\nThe kitten was never again seen by its former owners, but in all\nprobability had been taken by the crones to form one of the guardian\ncats by which they were thus attended.\n\nPetty thefts abounded in the neighbourhood, and no one suffered from\nthem more than Farmer Long, although his farm was at a considerable\ndistance from the cottage of the crones.\n\nAt last things got so bad that the farmer really thought he could stand\nit no longer. So one day, after the disappearance of a fine lamb from\none of his fields, when the crone Humpy had shortly before been seen in\nthe immediate proximity of the flock, and one man went so far as to say\nhe had seen her driving a lamb before her in the road, the farmer\nboldly applied to the nearest justice of the peace for a warrant to\nsearch the cottage.\n\nThere was some little difficulty in the matter, owing to the\ncircumstance that old Finn, the Mersham constable, positively declined\nfor some time to go near the place, but upon being encouraged by the\nparish constable of Smeeth, bold Joe Worrell, who offered to go with\nhim, they proceeded to perform their duty, accompanied by the farmer.\n\nMrs. Long had gone to Dymchurch that day for a breath of sea air, so\nthat he knew she would not be uneasy about him, and deemed it but right\nto back up the officers of justice, whom he met by appointment at the\nfoot of Collier's Hill in Mersham, and they advanced together. But the\nroad appeared to be endless, for although it could not be much more\nthan two miles, if so much, to the cottage, it seemed as if they would\nnever get there.\n\nThen, although the weather had been fine, there came on a hailstorm\nwhich nearly blinded them, and, notwithstanding that Finn had been born\nin the parish and the others knew it well, they actually lost their\nway, and found themselves close to Kingsnorth Church, which everybody\nknows to be in quite an opposite direction. They hastily retraced their\nsteps, but then it suddenly became dark. Finn and the farmer both had\ntheir hats plucked off their heads by invisible hands, and although\nWorrell was untouched (it being well-known that no witch dare lay hands\non a Smeeth man) yet he felt far from comfortable. Determined, however,\nto do their duty, the men made another attempt, and going round towards\nAldington, were about to try and approach that side, when, all darkness\nhaving cleared away, they saw at a distance a light in the sky which\nbetokened a fire, and from the direction, it appeared to be burning\nsomewhere very near to Farmer Long's house. This put out of his head\naltogether the business upon which he was out, and he immediately\nretraced his steps as fast as possible, accompanied by the constables.\nWhen he got near home the flames seemed to have died away, but a heavy\nsmoke hung over the place, and as he approached still nearer a sad\nsight indeed met his eyes. His stables were utterly burned to the\nground, and three valuable horses destroyed, despite every effort to\nsave them. Farmer Long rushed hastily to the spot, but all he found was\nhis poor half-witted son sitting calmly on the grass contemplating the\nsmouldering embers with a vacant expression of countenance.\n\n\"What has happened, Stephen lad? Where's Tom? How did all this begin?\nWho has done it?\" were the eager questions of the excited man; but to\nall of them the youth replied with the stolid indifference of idiocy,\n\"Steenie not know.\"\n\nSubsequent inquiries proved that two (as usual) of the crones had been\nseen in the vicinity of the farm that day. As a public road ran very\nnear, this may perhaps be deemed by some to have been slight and\ninconclusive evidence of their guilt; but it was universally accepted\nat the time as beyond all doubt connecting them with the affair.\n\nSome few there were who insinuated that the idiot boy had set the\nstables on fire for amusement, unconscious of the mischief he was\ndoing; but these of course were some of those foolish and obstinate\npeople who always like to differ from the rest of the world, and put\nforward their own views against those of everybody else. Of course it\nwas the Mersham crones who had done the thing, else why should it have\noccurred at the very time when Farmer Long was engaged on an\nexpedition, the object of which was to search their cottage? At all\nevents, so entirely convinced upon the subject was the whole\nneighbourhood, that it was resolved that the matter could not rest\nthere, but must be taken up seriously.\n\nThe question was, how to do it? Inquiry before the magistrates appeared\nuseless, for if two constables, and one of them a Smeeth man, too,\ncould not even approach the crones' dwelling, of what avail was it to\ninvoke the authority of the law? The church might be tried, but the\nrector of Mersham was known to have steadily set his face against any\nbelief in witches, and it was more than probable that no other\nclergyman would like to interfere in his parish without his knowledge\nand consent.\n\nLong consultations were held, and wise heads laid together about the\nbusiness, and at last it was determined to rouse the honest people of\nthe neighbourhood round, most of whom had suffered more or less from\nthe pilfering habits of the crones, and, covered with as many charms\nand magic tokens as they could obtain from old Goody Flaskett and one\nor two other wise women who lived near the place, to advance in great\nnumbers against the enemy, in order to try what ducking in a horsepond\nwould do for them. So on one fine afternoon, a great concourse of\npeople, meeting in several parties, bore down from different quarters\nupon the cottage of the crones.\n\nIt was a mellow day in autumn, and hopping was just over at the time\nwhen this proceeding took place. John Gower had come home that day to\ndinner, and a memorable day it was in his family. Mary, Jane, and Billy\nwere all at home and they had just sat down to their homely meal when a\nlow, hurried knocking was heard at the door. At this very moment it so\nhappened that the horse-shoe which was usually nailed over that door\nhad fallen down, owing to one of the nails which supported it having\ngiven way, and consequently it lay on the grass near the door instead\nof hanging in its usual place. Farmer Barrett was always particular in\nmentioning this circumstance, else, he said, people might think that a\nhorseshoe is not a real protection against witches, whereas it is the\nbest and surest safeguard, only it must be nailed up against a wall or\nover a door. John bade his son open the door, and as soon as he had\ndone so, they perceived a good-looking young woman leading two others,\napparently older than herself, but perfectly blind, whilst on her arm\neach carried a basket. They were quite strangers to John and his\nfamily, and appeared to have walked some way.\n\n\"Might we ask to rest awhile in your cottage, good friend?\" asked the\nyoung woman. \"I and my two blind sisters have walked all the way from\nAshford to-day, and are bound to Romney.\"\n\n\"Sartainly, ma'am,\" said John in reply. \"But surely this be a long walk\nfor such as ye?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied the other, \"we should have thought so once, but a cruel\nlandlord has turned us out of our house, these poor afflicted creatures\nand me, and having relations at Romney we are going there in the only\nway the poor can travel--on our feet, and we have nothing with us but\nour tame rabbits, poor creatures, which we always carry in our baskets.\nWe should be very thankful if we might come in for a couple of hours or\nso.\"\n\n\"By all means,\" said worthy John, whose simple heart was at once\ntouched by this tale. \"Come in, come in by all means,\" and stepping\nforward, he helped one of the blind girls over the threshold and they\nall entered the cottage.\n\nThe moment they were inside, Mary's favourite cat, who had been seated\nby the fireside, intently watching the proceeding, jumped up and sprang\nthrough the open window without saying a word to anybody, which indeed,\nas a respectable but ordinary cat, she was not likely to have done\nunder any circumstances. Mary observed this, and wondered at the animal\nbeing so shy of strangers; but nobody made any remark upon the\nincident, and seats being found for the new comers, they not only sat\ndown, but condescended to share the family dinner, and that with such\nappetites, that the children of the house themselves came off but\nsecond best. John Gower asked several questions which were\nsatisfactorily answered, but he always said afterwards that he never\nfelt quite at home with his visitors, which he put down to their being\nbetter educated and of a position apparently somewhat above his own. As\nthey sat and ate and talked, a distant shout was heard, and then\nanother.\n\n\"Father, what's that?\" asked Billy.\n\n\"Oh!\" replied Gower, \"I expect it's the people out after the crones. I\nforgot all about it, not being a busy man in such matters, or I ought\nto have helped my neighbours, perhaps, for those old women are no\nbetter than they should be--ah! oh! oh, dear!\" and whilst the words\nwere still in his mouth, John Gower jumped up and began to hop about\nthe room upon one leg, having been suddenly seized, he said, with a\nviolent fit of cramp therein.\n\n\"What are they going to do with the crones, father?\" asked Billy.\n\n\"Duck 'em, I expect, boy,\" replied he; upon which the lad rejoined,--\n\n\"Oh, what fun! how I should like to see it!\" and almost immediately\nafterwards burst out crying, saying that he had such a bad pain come in\nhis inside.\n\nMeanwhile more shouting was heard, and not very far off, and presently\nthe door was thrown open, and in came a neighbour, James Firminger by\nname, and a noted enemy to witches, besides being so worthy and\nwell-thought-of a man that he had more than once been spoken of as fit\nto be parish churchwarden.\n\n\"Neighbour Gower!\" he shouted, as he came in, \"why ar't not out with\nthe rest of us after the crones? 'Twill be a grand day for Mersham if\nwe get quit of them. But you've got company, I see--bless us, what a\nsmell of sulphur!\"\n\nAs he spoke, he turned his eyes on the young woman and her two blind\ncompanions, and started as he did so. Firminger never went about\nwithout some potent witch-charm upon him, which at once protected him\nfrom the malice of such creatures, and enabled him to detect them when\ndisguised, and upon this occasion he had nothing less than a relic of\nthe great Kentish saint, Thomas \u00e0 Becket, being a small piece of the\nhair-shirt of that holy man, cut off shortly after his death by one of\nthe monks of Canterbury, who happened to be a Firminger, and\nreligiously preserved in the Firminger family ever afterwards.\n\nNaturally, as Farmer Barrett observed, no witch could stand against\n_that_, and Firminger was a lucky man to possess it. It was doubtless\nin consequence, and by virtue of this relic, that as soon as the good\nman was well inside the cottage, he not only smelt the sulphur which\nhad not been smelt by the family, but saw what was the real character\nof John Gower's visitors. He took no second look, but shouted aloud,\n\"The crones! the crones!\" and seizing the little case in which was his\nrelic in his hands, displayed it openly before them.\n\nThe effect was instantaneous. All beauty disappeared from the face of\nthe young woman, her form changed, her countenance shrivelled, and she\nstood confessed before the party as Humpy, the youngest of the three\nCrones of Mersham.\n\nNo less sudden and complete was the alteration in her two companions,\nwho recovered their sight at once, but together therewith resumed the\nunpleasant forms and features of Skinny and Bony, the two other sisters\nof this disreputable family. There was a visible agitation at the same\nmoment in the baskets which the sisters had carried upon their arms,\nand which they had deposited on the floor upon taking their seats.\n\nThe lids shook, the baskets quivered, and in another instant\noverturned, when out sprang three enormous black cats upon the floor of\nthe room.\n\nWith a yell, which seemed to burst simultaneously from the throats of\nall the crones and all the cats, they rushed out at the door; flying\nfrom the charm which James Firminger kept earnestly shaking before\ntheir eyes. Out of the door, over the green space in front of the\ncottage, into the road, and as far and fast as they could get away from\nthe object of their terror.\n\nJohn Gower and his children sat stupified with mingled surprise and awe\nfor some seconds; and then, jumping from their seats, they all rushed\nthrough the door after Firminger; who, having done so, stood still\noutside, eagerly gazing after the retreating crones. He knew well\nenough that, if nought had prevented them, the honest people who were\nout after the witches, would by this time have attacked and harried\ntheir home. Whither, then, would they fly?\n\nIf they had quitted their cottage ignorant of the coming of their\nenemies, and only bent on paying John Gower a visit--doubtless\nintending to do him some mischief or other; it might be that they would\nhurry home, and encounter the angry mob of people, in which case there\nwould be wild work one way or the other. If, however, as was more\nprobable (and as was generally believed to be the case when the matter\nwas considered afterwards), the three crones had been well aware of the\nprojected attack upon them, and had purposely left home--hoping that\nthey might lie safely hid in the abode of so honest and quiet a man as\nGower until the danger was over, then it became a serious question as\nto what other refuge they would seek, now that they had been so\nmanfully driven from their intended place of safety. The doubts of the\nlookers-on, however, were soon solved.\n\nA strange thing happened, which would never have been believed in\nthose days, but that Firminger and Gower both solemnly declared it,\nand which perhaps actually will _not_ be believed in these days of\ndoubt and want of faith, but which I must nevertheless relate as\nFarmer Barrett told it to me. As soon as they were well on the other\nside of the road, each crone jumped upon her cat, and the animals,\nlightly springing over the hedge into the next field, set off full\ngallop in an easterly direction--or, in other words, heading as\nstraight as a line to Aldington Knoll, well-known in those good old\ndays as the great fortress of witches. That was their point, no doubt,\nand it looked very much as if they were going to give up Mersham as a\nbad job, and betake themselves to other and safer quarters.\n\nAs soon as Firminger saw the line which the crones took, he turned to\nGower and said in a hasty tone, \"Come on, mate, this must be seen to at\nonce. Let us join the chaps who are gone to the old cottage as fast as\nwe can, and tell them what we have seen, and all that has happened.\"\n\nJohn Gower was too wise a man to hesitate. Had he done so, he knew well\nenough that he would be suspected of having knowingly harboured the\ncrones, and of being in league with them, a suspicion which would have\nruined him for ever in his native parish, and probably driven him from\nthe county.\n\nSo he bade Mary mind the house, and keep Jane and Billy at home, and\nthen he set off at best pace with Firminger down the road in the\ndirection of the cottage of the crones. They very soon reached it, and\nfound it surrounded by a number of people, who were engaged in\ndemolishing the premises altogether. They had not found much, probably\nbecause there was not much to find; and the owners of the place, as we\nknow, had taken themselves off before the arrival of their unwelcome\nvisitors. But they broke everything they could find, tore down the\nthatched roof to search for magic charms, none of which they found, but\nonly a number of mice, and a great deal of dust. They pulled to pieces\nthe wooden part of the cottage, and knocked down a great part of the\nstone corner, counting everything as fair game, as witches' property,\nand striving their utmost to destroy as much as they possibly could.\n\nThere were more than a couple of hundred people, all told, Farmer\nBarrett believed, and he gave me a great many names, but I forget most\nof them. There was Bully Robus, of the \"Farriers' Arms,\" I know, and\nlittle Dick Broadfoot, the tailor, of Mersham Street, and Bill Parsons,\nall the way from Warehorne Green. There were Gowers, and Farrances,\nSillibournes and Swaflers, Swinerds and Finns--in short, not a family\nin that or any of the other parishes which was not represented, and\nthey all seemed to vie with each other, which should do the most\nmischief, and be foremost in pulling down and destroying that evil\nplace.\n\nIt was several minutes before James Firminger and John Gower could\ncommand the attention of people so eagerly occupied about their\nbusiness as these witch-seekers, and it would have been still longer,\nbut for the position and character of Firminger, and his known hatred\nof all that pertained to witchcraft. He presently succeeded in making\nthem listen to the wonders he had to relate, and when they knew for\ncertain what had happened and the direction which the crones had taken,\nthe whole current of their thoughts was turned into one eager desire to\nfollow, and, if possible, to make an end of the inmates of that awful\ncottage as well as of the abode itself.\n\nThey lost no time, therefore, in finishing the work on which they were\nthen engaged, and immediately afterwards the whole party swarmed up the\nroad in the direction of Aldington Knoll, keeping up each other's\ncourage by many brave words, and shouting uncomplimentary epithets with\nregard to the three crones. So they pushed on until they came to the\nspot where four roads met; one, that which our party had traversed in\nwalking from the cottage, another bearing back to Bilsington and\nRuckinge, a third to Newchurch and the Marsh, and the fourth to\nAldington Knoll.\n\nDown this last road the people turned, and then, immediately before\nthem they had the mass of wood upon the side of the hill, which then,\nas now, encompassed the knoll itself upon the north, west, and south,\nthe ground to the east being somewhat less woody. The knoll--apparently\na grass hill, only that the grass being a good deal worn away, showed\nthe bare rock at several places--peered over the woods, and the road to\nit lay right through the latter for some distance, until by turning\ninto a gate upon your right hand, you entered the field out of which\nthe knoll rose, and from the higher points of which were magnificent\nviews over the Marsh and all the country east, west, and south, the\nhills behind shutting out the view to the north.\n\nThe people were now some three-quarters of a mile from this gate, and,\nif the truth could be known, I have no doubt whatever that some of them\nwould very gladly have been a great deal further off.\n\nThe power of the crones themselves was so well known, and the\nreputation of Aldington Knoll was so bad, that no one felt sure that\nsome terrible misfortune might not result from braving the one and\nattacking the other.\n\nThey had all heard strange tales of people bewitched, changed into\nanimals, losing their senses, and all kinds of other disagreeable\nthings, and of course such tales _would_ recur to them at such a\nmoment. But there were brave hearts--then as now--among the men of\nKent, and although fears and doubts may have been there, they did not\noperate so as to turn any man back from the work he had undertaken. The\npeople moved down the road towards Aldington, and reached the point at\nwhich the woods began. At that moment a loud clap of thunder pealed\nthrough the air, and vivid lightning flashed across the sky.\n\nA shudder passed through many a stout frame, but the men pushed boldly\non. Then came a severe hailstorm--so severe that the people took\nshelter beneath the trees, and waited until its violence seemed to be\npassed.\n\nBut none turned back. Then came a bitter, chilling wind, though it had\nbeen a lovely, soft, mellow day: the wind cut through the trees with a\nmoaning sound, and pierced the people like a mid-winter blast.\n\nStill they pressed on, knowing that witchcraft was at work, and that\nretreat would be ruin. They were half-way between the point at which\nthe road entered the woods and the gate before mentioned, when a loud\nand terrible roaring was heard upon the right, from the woods which\nstretched up close to the knoll itself. So strange and so dreadful was\nthis sound, that it made the blood of those who heard it run cold, and\nfor a moment the foremost men of the throng paused.\n\nBut three men there were in that crowd who neither quailed nor paused\nfor a moment, so resolutely determined were they to carry out the work\nthey had commenced that day. These men were James Firminger, Farmer\nLong, and old David Finn, the parish clerk of Mersham. The last named\nknew but little of crones or witches, but tradition said that there\nalways must be a Finn for parish clerk, and that Mersham would not be\nMersham without one. This being the case, the old man felt it to be his\nduty to take such prominent part in an affair like the present as\nbecame one of an ancient family, filling an hereditary office.\n\nTherefore, although he knew that the rector would most likely have\ndisapproved of the step he was taking, he had started early that day,\nand in company with Bully Robus and sundry other notables of the\nparish, had taken an active part in the proceedings from the beginning.\n\nThese three men, then, were not deterred by the roaring, though it much\nresembled that of wild and savage beasts desiring their prey, and\nseeing it before their eyes. And when no beasts appeared, and it seemed\nto be nothing but sound, the rest of the people regained their courage,\nand all continued to push on towards the gate into the knoll-field.\nAbout a hundred yards before they reached it, however, they found that\nthey had to encounter an unexpected obstacle in the shape of several\nenormous elms which lay stretched across the road in such a manner as\nto most effectually bar any further progress.\n\nBut to the astonishment of all, no sooner had Firminger, Long, and Finn\n(who were now recognised as the leaders of the expedition) approached\nclose to the barrier, than it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared,\nand left the roadway free.\n\nEncouraged by this result, as unexpected as it was satisfactory, the\nparty advanced a few yards farther, to find a great ditch yawning in\nfront of them, and evidently intended to stop their farther advance. On\nseeing this, Finn rushed to the front, and standing close to the edge\nof the abyss, pronounced in a loud voice the word \"Amen,\" which he had\nlong held to be the most sacred and powerful form of invocation known\nto the world, and one which never failed to repel any evil creature to\nwhom it was addressed.\n\nWhether from the effects of his utterance, or from any other reason, I\ncannot say, but certain it is that as the worthy clerk put one leg\nforward as if to step into the ditch, it closed up as if it had never\nbeen dug, which perhaps was the case. At all events, whether it was a\nreal ditch or only a delusion of the eye, the chasm disappeared\naltogether, and once more the party proceeded, until they reached the\ngate of the field, and faced it, about to enter and approach the knoll,\nwhich now lay upon their right, the field in which it was situate\nstretching back into the woods.\n\nOn entering the gate, they were at once struck by the novel and curious\nappearance of the knoll. Smoke appeared to envelope it on all sides,\nand a deep rumbling proceeded from within it, as if a volcano were at\nwork, and a volcano that meant mischief too. The party paused for a\nmoment, looked at each other and then at the knoll, and began to wonder\nwhat they had better do next. Everybody thought that everybody else was\nstopping quite unnecessarily, but nobody seemed inclined to move on\nfirst.\n\nEven the three bold men, Firminger, Long, and Finn, seemed less eager\nthan hitherto, and whispered to each other in low, mysterious tones,\nthat they fancied they saw dark and fearful figures moving about among\nthe smoke in which the knoll was enveloped. It was well known to these\nmen, and indeed to most or all of their companions, that Aldington\nknoll was reputed to be the abode and principal gathering-place of all\nthe evil creatures in that part of the country.\n\nBy common consent men had for a long time past shunned it as a haunted\nand wicked spot, and it was no common evidence of courage that so many\nmen had been found to approach it upon this occasion. After a few\nmoments, the three men recollected the responsibility of their\nposition, and the absolute certainty that if their party returned home\ndefeated, the neighbourhood would thenceforward be worse off than ever.\nThe crones would never forget the plunder and destruction of their\ncottage, and would doubtless exact a severe compensation from the\nperpetrators of that ruthless deed.\n\nMoreover, for a couple of hundred people to have it said that they had\nbeen circumvented and beaten by three old women, was a thing not to be\nthought of; so, shame overcoming their reluctance, they boldly marched\nforward again, and encouraged their followers to charge up to the very\nfoot of the knoll. They had got quite close to it when, either by\naccident, or because he pulled it too hard in his nervous fidgeting\nwith it, the string by which James Firminger's relic was tied round his\nneck suddenly broke, and the charm itself fell to the ground.\n\nHardly had this occurred, when a yell, most discordant in its tone, but\nappearing to express a mingled feeling of joy, triumph, fury and\nrevengeful longing all in one, broke from the interior of the mount.\nThe next instant the knoll itself opened wide, just like the mouth of a\nman preparing for a tremendous yawn, and a whole volley of cinders and\nashes came bursting over the approaching party in a most disconcerting\nand unpleasant manner. At the same time strange and uncouth figures\nsuddenly appeared issuing from the knoll, some with goat's heads and\nhorns, others with the bodies of men but a pig's head, snout and\nbristles, others like monkeys (but oh! such frightful monkeys as never\nwere seen) and all with eyes that rolled fearfully in their heads and\nglittered like fire. Conspicuous among this awful band appeared the\nfigures of the three crones, Bony, Skinny, and Humpy, each carrying a\nbroomstick in her hand, and followed by her cat, which bounded forward\nas if to attack the invaders of the haunted hill. This was more than\nthe latter could stand--they wavered--looked round--tottered a step or\ntwo backward, and then, as the cinders, hot cinders too, came upon them\nand the evil creatures almost touched them, they turned round with one\naccord, and fled down from the knoll as fast as their legs would carry\nthem. Farmer Long was the first of the three leaders who gave way, for\nhe afterwards declared that he recognized the lost kitten in a cat\nwhich seemed to select him as her particular object of attack, and as\nhe ran, he vowed that he felt a scratch which penetrated, sharp and\ndeep, in such a manner that he could not sit down comfortably for a\nfortnight, and felt perfectly sure that only the claws of that kitten\ncould or would have dealt him such a wound. As for Finn, he so lost his\nhead, that he ran off, bawling out \"Amen\" continuously at the top of\nhis voice, but in a tone which conveyed so little of the real\nimportance and dignity attaching to the word, that it is little wonder\nthat it had no effect.\n\nJames Firminger--as became a man of his character and position--stood\nhis ground longest, but his charm being gone, he felt less confidence,\nand when he, too, turned and ran, he felt himself belaboured by an\ninvisible stick all the way down to the gate of the field.\n\nShouts, shrieks and yells of laughter, followed the retreating party,\nand there was scarcely a man in whose breast, amid all his fears, the\nthought did not arise that the result of this day's work had turned out\nto be one so utterly unfortunate for the people, and so triumphant for\nthe crones, that the neighbourhood would have to submit to be\nwitch-ridden for ever after.\n\nBut, sometimes, in human affairs, whether those of an individual or a\ncommunity, at the very moment when things seem to be at their worst,\nthey begin to mend, and that amendment is not unfrequently brought\nabout by some agent which, to the wise and knowing of mankind, would\nhave appeared the most insignificant and the most unlikely to have\neffected the change. So it was in the present instance. The affrighted\npeople came rushing through the gate, and, avoiding the road through\nthe wood, which was their natural way home, turned in an easterly\ndirection, and ran up the road leading away from the woods, and into\nthe main road leading from Aldington Corner to Hythe. They had run but\na very short distance when they came upon the \"innocent,\" simple\nSteenie Long, sitting on the bank of the road side, apparently looking\nfor flowers. He looked up with a vacant expression upon his face (which\nI am told was not unusual with idiots in those days) and seemed\nastonished to see so many people all running in such a hurry.\n\nSeveral of the party hurried past the boy, too much occupied about\nproviding for their own safety to think either of him or of anybody\nelse. Presently, however, Farmer Long came running by, already somewhat\nout of breath, and burning with rage and shame at having been unable to\nresist the impulse which had made him fly before the power of the evil\ncreatures of the knoll. When he came to the place where his son was\nsitting, he stopped short in his flight, and seizing the boy by the\narm, hastily exclaimed, \"Come along, lad, come along; this is no place\nfor the likes of you!\" endeavouring at the same time to hurry the youth\naway with him.\n\nBut \"Simple Steenie\" was by no means of the same opinion. He drew\nhimself away from his father's hold, opened his large blue eyes to\ntheir fullest extent, and observed in a calm but very decided tone.\n\"Steenie not.\"\n\n\"Not _what_, boy?\" said the farmer eagerly. \"You'd better not stop\nhere, anyhow; leastways if you do, the witches will have you.\" But the\nboy, who had by this time risen to his feet, only smiled pleasantly\nupon his father, with the simple smile of the weak of intellect, and\nanswered in a gentle tone. \"Steenie not 'fraid. People run. Steenie not\nrun.\"\n\nAt this moment up came James Firminger, already bitterly repenting the\nflight which seemed certain to lead to such disastrous consequences.\nOverhearing the words of the boy, the thought instantly struck him that\nthey might be turned to good account.\n\nWell did stout Firminger know that whatever be the power of witches and\nwarlocks, it has no effect upon those whom Heaven has deprived of their\nfull share of reason and intellect, and it occurred to him (and perhaps\nit was true) that this unexpected meeting with \"Simple Steenie\" was not\naccidental, but that it was possibly so ordered, that the victory of\nthe evil ones might be prevented.\n\nHe stopped instantly, and shouted aloud to the rest of the party.\n\"Mates!\" he cried. \"Are we not shamed by the words of this innocent?\n_He_ will not run, he--why then should _we_ do so? The power which\nprotects _him_ can protect _us_. Let us turn once more, and never give\nway like this to the evil ones.\"\n\nThe words of Firminger produced a great effect upon those who heard\nhim. Some indeed there were who had already made their way so far that\nthey neither saw nor heard anything that followed, but fully two-thirds\nof the party checked their flight, and waited to see what would follow.\n\nThey were much reassured by that which immediately occurred. James\nFirminger went up to the boy and spoke to him kindly to the following\neffect. \"Steenie boy, that's right! _You_ won't run, will you, lad?\n_You_ ban't afraid of no witches nor crones neither, be you?\"\n\nThus addressed, Steenie drew himself up to his full height, smiled upon\nhis questioner as he had upon his father, and said very gravely. \"No.\nSteenie not 'fraid. Good people help Steenie.\"\n\nAs this was immediately interpreted by all who heard him to mean that\nthe half-witted lad was assured of supernatural assistance in any\nencounter which might ensue, it had a wonderfully comforting effect\nupon the whole party.\n\nThe courage which, in the case of most of them, had been \"oozing out at\ntheir fingers' ends,\" suddenly and miraculously returned to its natural\nhome in their hearts, and they began to encourage each other by speech\nand gesture, and to ask what there was to be afraid of.\n\nSeeing his opportunity, Firminger used all his arts of persuasion, and\nthe result was that those of the party who had not got beyond hearing\nwhen the above mentioned incident took place, wheeled boldly and bodily\nround, and retraced their steps towards the knoll-field, Firminger and\nLong leading the way, preceded by \"Simple Steenie,\" who declined to\nwalk with any of them, but trotted on ahead. As for Finn, he had\ndisappeared and was no more seen that day, having been so completely\novercome by the total failure of the great invocation to which he had\npinned his faith, that he was incapable of further action for the time,\nand was indeed never quite the same man afterwards.\n\nWhen the party got near the gate, there was no sign of anything\nunusual, but as soon as they set foot within the field, the same\nroaring arose which they had heard before, and the same smoke began to\npuff out from the knoll and to enwrap it once more in dark wreaths. At\nthis moment Firminger, Long, and their followers suddenly started with\nsurprise.\n\n\"Simple Steenie\" was indeed walking before them, having left the\ntrotting pace at which he had started, but he was no longer alone! A\nshort, thick-set man, clad entirely in gray from head to foot, was\nleading the boy by the hand as they advanced together. In his hand he\nheld a long staff, but otherwise appeared to be entirely unarmed.\nWhence he had sprung from no one could tell; they had not seen any of\ntheir own party rush forward, and certainly no one had descended from\nthe knoll. However, there was the Gray Man, sure enough, and on he\nmarched by \"Simple Steenie's\" side, as if they were the best friends in\nthe world, and had long ago arranged the enterprise on which they were\njointly bound. The others followed at a respectful distance, more and\nmore astonished as matters went on.\n\nThe roaring continued and presently the same process was repeated as\nthat which the people had previously witnessed and undergone. Figures\nmoved rapidly amid the thick smoke, and ever and anon a lurid flame\nflashed from one side of the knoll to the other, affording a momentary\nglimpse of awful forms with threatening gestures directed towards those\nwho appeared desirous to invade their territory.\n\nStill \"Simple Steenie\" and his companion walked calmly on until they\nwere within a very short distance of the knoll, when, as before, it\nopened, and a volume of cinders and ashes was again poured forth. But,\nat the same instant, the Gray Man raised his staff high above his head\nand shook it in the air. Suddenly, without a cloud in the sky or any\nappearance whatever of rain, a perfect torrent of water descended from\nthe heavens upon the knoll, the effect of which was to produce just\nsuch a \"fiz\" as when you throw a tumbler of water upon the fire, only\nthis sound was as if several hundred thousand tumblers had been thrown\nupon the same number of fires all at once, producing the loudest and\nmost wonderful \"fiz\" that you can imagine. At the same moment a\nprolonged and terrible howl arose from inside the hill, as if the\neffects of the water had caused great discomfort therein.\n\nNext happened a remarkable incident. The mouth of the knoll opened with\nthe same kind of yawning action as has been already described, as if\nthe same onslaught as before was about to be repeated. But instead of\nwaiting for this, \"Steenie\" and the \"Gray Man\" both raised a loud\nshout, the latter brandished his staff once more over his head, and\nboth of them rushed boldly forward into the mound, which immediately\nclosed behind them. The bystanders were struck with horror and\namazement.\n\nWas the Gray Man in league with the enemy, and had he thus lured poor\nSteenie to his destruction? If so--why and whence the torrent of water,\nwhich had evidently not been relished by the inhabitants of the knoll?\nWhat on earth did it all mean?\n\nFor a few moments the whole party stood fearful and irresolute. Soon it\nbecame evident that warm work was going on inside the knoll. Shouts,\nyells, rumblings, howls, and the most discordant noises were heard\nwithin, whilst there were those among the people, and notably James\nFirminger and Bully Robus, who always declared that they heard, in and\nabove the outcry, the word, \"Dunstan! Dunstan!\" repeated ever and anon,\nand the same thought crossed the minds of both of them at the same\ntime, namely, that the appearance of the Gray Man greatly resembled the\ndescription of the great Saint Dunstan, so famous for the manner in\nwhich he tackled the arch-enemy upon one occasion with a pair of tongs,\nand whose name was said to be especially dreaded by all evil creatures.\n\nBe this as it may, the noise had not continued above a minute or two,\nbefore the spirit of James Firminger became too much excited to allow\nof his remaining quiet any longer.\n\nCalling to his companions to come on and help poor Steenie, he rushed\nboldly forward, and was followed by most of the others. But they were\nstill several yards away from the scene of action, when they were\nstopped by an occurrence so extraordinary that no one who witnessed it\nran the smallest chance of ever forgetting it.\n\nThe knoll burst open in at least twenty different places, and from it\nthere issued the same sort of creatures as those who had previously\nattacked and routed the Mersham forces. But their aspect was now as\ncompletely changed as their behaviour. Cowering, shrieking, huddling\ntogether as if to escape some terrible pursuer, they rushed frantically\naway on all sides, with heart-rending cries of despair and anguish.\n\nThen, in the very middle of the knoll, rushing after the retreating\nfoe, appeared no less a personage than the Gray Man, flourishing his\nstaff, and closely followed by \"Simple Steenie,\" whose features were\nglowing with excitement, and whom they distinctly saw in the act of\nadministering a violent kick to a repulsive-looking creature with a\nserpent's head and man's body, who was beyond all question an evil one\nof the worst description, but whose departure was much quickened by the\naction of the \"innocent.\"\n\nAs everybody among the lookers-on was greatly confused and alarmed at\nthe extraordinary spectacle suddenly presented to their view, one\nhardly knows how far it would be safe to rely upon the many different\naccounts which were afterwards given of the details of the transaction\nof which I am writing, and good Farmer Barrett always used to warn me\nagainst believing as gospel every particular of this part of the story.\n\nHowever, there were many worthy people out upon this day who declared\nsolemnly that among the strange and horrible creatures who were turned\nout of Aldington Knoll that day, they recognised the faces and features\nof several of their neighbours, dead and gone, who had been reputed\nwitches in their life-times. And little Dick Broadfoot, the tailor of\nMersham Street, an acute man as well as an honest, and one that would\nnot willingly either lie or exaggerate, always took his bible oath that\nhe saw, as plainly as he ever saw anything in his life, three awful\ncreatures, with cats' heads and bodies, but with horns and wings, and\nwith claws longer than any possessed by mortal cat, fly out of the\nmount and down the woods, each having fast hold of and carrying with it\na form which writhed and struggled as if in fearful agony, but writhed\nand struggled in vain. And furthermore, Dick avowed that he saw--though\nhow he had time to see it I don't know--he saw, I say, and knew it for\na certain fact, that these three unhappy wretches were the three crones\nof Mersham, doubtless being carried off to their own place by the three\nevil ones who had hitherto served them under the form of cats.\n\nWhether to believe the little tailor or not I hardly know, but Bully\nRobus backed him up in the story, and as the three crones never again\nappeared in that part of the world, it may have been quite true.\n\nCertain it is that all those creatures who issued from the knoll in the\nway I have described were evidently driven out against their will,\nutterly defeated and brought to tribulation by a superior power. In a\nvery short time they had utterly disappeared, a strong smell of sulphur\nbeing the only remaining token that they had ever been there, whilst\nupon the knoll, which had closed up behind them, \"Simple Steenie\" and\nhis companion remained, standing alone in triumph.\n\nThe people saw the Gray Man lay his hand upon the lad's head for an\ninstant, as if calling down a blessing upon him; then there came a mist\nor cloud over the knoll, and when they looked again, Steenie was\nstanding alone. They hurried towards him, instinctively knowing that\nthere was no more danger to be apprehended from the place, and he\nturned smilingly to meet them with an air of triumph.\n\n\"Steenie not 'fraid,\" he said. \"Naughty people run 'way! All gone!\"\n\n[Illustration: SIMPLE STEENIE AND THE GRAY MAN ON THE KNOLL--P. 344]\n\nBut to all their questions about his late companion he could only\nanswer by a vacant smile and incoherent words, which left them as\nignorant as before. They had, however, the great consolation of knowing\nthat, whether it had come about by the aid of \"Simple Steenie's\"\ninnocent efforts, or whether the Gray Man had of his own accord planned\nthe whole affair, and arranged for the discomfiture of the wicked ones,\nthat discomfiture was certain and complete.\n\nFrom that day forth Aldington Knoll has been a peaceful quiet spot,\nfrom whence the views to which I have already alluded may be\ncontemplated without any fear of interference by any unpleasant inmates\nof the mound, for there are none worse than rabbits now. More might be\ntold about some of the characters of our story, but short and casual\nallusions are not desirable, and to do more would be to lengthen the\nstory too much. So I will leave my readers to fancy for themselves all\nthat happened afterwards to John Gower and his family, as well as to\nFarmer Long, Simple Steenie, and all the rest of them. It is a good\nmany years ago now since these things occurred, and the actors in the\nstirring scenes which I have related have long since passed away.\n\nIf I had not chronicled them now, from my recollection of good old\nFarmer Barrett's gossips, I dare say Jack Barrett--who is a careless\nfellow at best, and not equal to his father--(young men seldom are in\nthese days, according to my opinion) would have told the story\ndifferently, and only in fragments, to his children, and they would\nhave varied it again in telling it to _their_ children, so that in\na couple of generations it would have been quite uncertain, and the\nreal truth never would have been known.\n\nThis is why I have thought it right to tell it. I drove down in my\npony-carriage the other day, with a young lady by my side, to see the\nvery spot where the crones' cottage used to stand, and to go through\nall the places where these scenes occurred. I could make them all out\npretty clearly, though there is no vestige of the cottage left. We\ndrove on to Bilsington and back towards Aldington by the same road that\nMrs. Long and Tom the Bailiff drove, when they were taking the kitten\nback to the Gowers.\n\nWe did not see any witches for certain, and perhaps there are none\nleft, though, as it is a good way from a railroad, I am not very sure\non this point. In a secluded spot by one of the woods, there was the\nfigure of a man seated by the side of the road breaking stones, and I\nthought there was something in his look more than common. It was on a\nhill, up which I was walking, and if I had been alone I might have\nstopped and tried to find out more. But as I did not want to run the\nleast chance of the young lady with me being frightened, I only took\ncare to walk on the side of the road between the pony-carriage and the\nfigure, and as we passed it I laid my right hand on my heart, and\npronounced that famous mystic word of power---- Oh! I forgot, I must\nnot write it, because that is forbidden, but if any little girl wants\nto know (boys are never curious, of course, so they won't mind not\nbeing told) she must just write me a pretty little letter and ask, and\nas I am very easily coaxed, I shall very likely either come and tell\nher, or make some arrangement by which she shall be able to find out\nfor herself. It answered very well that day (as, indeed, it always\ndoes) and we got home quite safe. Home is the best place at which to\nleave one's friends, and therefore, having brought myself there in my\nwriting, I think I will stop, and only hope that others beside myself\nwill be interested in hearing the famous legend of the \"Crones of\nMersham.\"\n\n\nBRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.\n\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nMinor typographical errors have been corrected without note.\n\nIrregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained\nas printed.","title":"Uncle Joe's Stories","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":103882}