{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56155/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56155","id":"gutenberg_56155","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56155","summary":null,"tags":["California -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories","Christmas stories"],"text":"[Illustration: _The Moorish Pearls._      _p._ 31.]\n\n\n\n\n                              FAIRY TALES\n                                 FROM\n                              GOLD LANDS.\n\n                           BY MAY WENTWORTH.\n\n               List to these legends quaint and old,\n               Tales of the marvelous land of gold,\n               Rich in its mines of shining ore,\n               Rich in romance and mystic lore;\n               List to these tales, they come onto thee,\n               From over the waters\u2014the boundless sea.\n\n                               NEW YORK:\n                    A. ROMAN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.\n                            SAN FRANCISCO:\n                     417 & 419 MONTGOMERY STREET.\n                                 1868.\n\n\n\n\n  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867,\n  BY A. ROMAN & COMPANY,\n  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States\n  for the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATION.\n\n\n  TO\n  CHILDREN EVERYWHERE,\n  A Merry Christmas\n  TO YOU ALL,\n  WITH MUCH LOVE, I DEDICATE THESE STORIES,\n  ESPECIALLY TO MY\n  LITTLE NIECE AND NEPHEW,\n  Mamie and Wentworth.\n\n  MAY WENTWORTH.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAs a child, I was fond of stories, and well remember the dearth of\nthe intermediate season, when \"Jack the Giant Killer,\" had ceased to\nplease, and I was yet unprepared to enjoy works written for older and\nmore cultivated minds. Children require stories ingeniously written,\nwith a pleasant tinge of romance about them to fix their attention, and\na touch of pathos that goes to the heart, to make them good and happy.\n\nIn writing these Christmas Tales, I have earnestly hoped they may serve\nto while away many a weary hour, which finds its place even in the\nsunny days of childhood.\n\nThe scenes of most of these Tales, will be laid in California, a land\nfull of romance and beauty.\n\nIt is not strange to hear from the miners of \"the early days,\" tales as\nmarvelous as those of the \"Arabian Nights.\"\n\nOf these \"early days\" I shall write, and of the Spaniards, and\nMexicans who inhabited the country before the coming of the\ngold-seekers.\n\nNow as I send away the first volume of the series, I think of the\nchildren who will read it, of their sweet, innocent faces, and\nguileless hearts.\n\nMay the blessed Christ, who smiles upon them in this holy Christmas\nseason, never leave them, but dwell in their hearts making them pure\nand happy forever.\n\n  MAY WENTWORTH.\n\n  _San Francisco, 1867._\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n\n                                               PAGE\n\n     I. SANTA CLAUS AND THE CHRIST-CHILD          9\n\n    II. THE MOORISH PEARLS                       17\n\n   III. THE TWO GOOD-FOR-NOTHINGS                46\n\n    IV. CHING CHONG CHINAMAN                     77\n\n     V. ZALETTA                                 108\n\n    VI. THE STRONG MAN OF SANTA BARBARA         136\n\n   VII. JUNG-FRAU MALEEN                        152\n\n  VIII. JUANETTA                                162\n\n    IX. EMPEROR NORTON                          185\n\n     X. DEATH'S VALLEY                          204\n\n\n\n\nFAIRY TALES.\n\n\n\n\nSANTA CLAUS AND THE CHRIST-CHILD.\n\n\nIt had been raining all day, and the mist hung so heavily over the\nbay that the vailed waters tossed their troubled billows in unseen\nrestlessness, like the swelling of an aching heart that the mantle of a\nfair face covers.\n\nDown Pine Street a hundred rills were rushing, as though each had its\nspecial and important mission to perform in advancing the prosperity of\nthe queen city of the Pacific. Men passed along fearlessly, cased in\nthe invulnerable armor of India-rubber coats and glazed caps, and now\nand then a woman dared to trust her dainty little feet to the mercy of\nmud and water.\n\nMinnie Bell had been very uneasy all day, for she had been promised the\npleasure of a walk on Montgomery Street, and she intended to choose a\nfew rare gifts from all the Christmas treasures that brightened the gay\nshop-windows.\n\nMinnie had not yet learned the woman's lesson, to smile when the heart\naches, and be gentle in disappointment, so tears filled her large\nblue eyes, and the rosy lips pouted with vexation, as she looked out\non the pouring rain. Her mamma was a fair, dashing woman, who loved\nMontgomery Street as well as Minnie herself; doated upon the theatre,\nopera, and every thing gay, but, of all things in the world, disliked\nto be annoyed by the petulance and nonsense of children. She lay all\nday upon a luxurious couch, reading \"Les Miserables,\" leaving Minnie,\npoor little _miserable_ of the household, to take care of herself, and\nthus I found her alone in the hall, picking in pieces the flowers of a\npretty worsted lamp-mat, the very spirit of discontent and mischief. It\ntakes so little to make a child happy, that I am always sorry to see a\nshadow upon their young faces at the time when this life should be all\nsunshine, so I called the little one to me, and taking her upon my lap,\ntold her the story of Santa Claus and the Christ-child.\n\nMore than eighteen hundred years ago, one fair bright night, when the\nmoon was casting her floods of silver light upon the mountains and\nvalleys of Judea, it seemed to pause in worshipful wonder over the\nlittle village of Bethlehem.\n\nDiamonds sparkled in the dew-drops, and emeralds in the green grass\nof the meadows, where the shepherds fed their flocks by night. The\nshepherds were amazed, as the holy light shed its soft brilliancy\naround them, and even the grazing flocks forgot the dewy grass, as a\nsweet, unknown voice, from the viewless air, told them how that night\nthe fair Christ-child was born at Bethlehem, and lay cradled in a\nmanger, with horned oxen feeding near him. A thousand angel voices\njoined in the rich deep melody of praise and gladness, and the first\nChristmas carol echoed and re-echoed through the mountains and valleys\nof Judea.\n\nWise men from the East, brought golden treasure, jewels, and rare\nperfumes, as offerings to the pure Christ-child. There he lay in the\narms of his fair virgin mother, Mary, with all the native beauty of\ninfancy brightening every feature of his lovely face, and that rare\nhalo of divinity about him that even the inspiration of Raphael\nand Murillo has but half portrayed. These immortal artists had only\nthe colors of earth to paint the brightness of heaven. The wise men\nbowed in adoration before the Christ-child and worshiped him as their\ntemporal king, and for their rich gifts received blessings, and went\naway well pleased to their luxurious homes. Then came an old man,\ntrembling with timid humility. He was but a poor keeper of the flocks\nupon the mountains, and brought only the few pale flowers of winter, as\ntokens of his devoted homage.\n\n\"Sweet mother,\" said he, kneeling, \"I have nothing but these poor\nflowers and the unchanging love of a devoted heart to lay at the feet\nof the dear Christ-child; but, thrice-blessed mother, do not turn away\nfrom this humble offering. I bring thee all I have.\" Smiles, like the\ngolden light of morning, shone upon the face of the fair Christ-child,\nand he took the flowers more pleased than with all the rich treasures\nof the East, that lay unnoticed around him.\n\nThe holy mother blessed the poor man, and with a voice teeming with\nmaternal love and divine richness, she said: \"Thy pure, loving heart\nis an offering dearer to the Christ-child than all the riches of the\nworld, and these flowers are a fitting token of thy love. Thou shalt\nnot die as other men do, but thou shalt sleep, to awaken each Christmas\neve, and gladden young hearts through all time, and in all lands, with\nthy welcome Christmas gifts, and the blessing of the Christ-child shall\nrest upon the spirits of childhood through the holy Christmas season.\"\n\nAnd thus it is that in all countries we hear of the good Santa Claus,\nwho brings such beautiful presents on Christmas eve. In the cold north\ncountries he wraps himself in furs, and rides swiftly over the crusted\nsnow in a sleigh drawn by reindeers, his long beard shining with the\nfrost of winter. In the sunny South he rides in a light car decked with\nflowers.\n\n\"But, May,\" said the now happy Minnie, smiling; \"when Santa Claus comes\nto San Francisco he'd better bring his India-rubber coat and overshoes.\"\n\n\"I've no doubt he will, darling,\" said I, kissing the little face\nbeaming with earnestness and beauty; \"and perhaps he'll bring his\numbrella, too, but 'twill make him no Paul Pry\u2014I'm sure he won't\nintrude.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said Minnie, \"I want to see him too much for that. Do you\nthink, May, if I sit up till ten o'clock, I shall see dear old Santa\nClaus?\"\n\n\"I think, little one, if you go to bed at eight and sleep sweetly,\nhe may come to you in your dreams. He generally manages to come when\nchildren are sleeping.\"\n\nThus it was that little Minnie forgot all her sorrows and disappointments\nin the anticipated vision of the good Santa Claus. The rain fell heavily,\nbut in the sunny heart of childhood all was happiness.\n\nNow, a \"Merry Christmas\" to you all\u2014young and old! May the blessing of\nthe pure Christ-child attend you, and Santa Claus be munificent in his\nbeautiful Christmas gifts!\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOORISH PEARLS.\n\n\nMany years ago, near the Mission of Santa Barbara, there lived a\nwealthy Spaniard and his wife, who had been married a great many years,\nand were still childless.\n\nIt was the cause of great regret to both, especially to the mother, who\nloved little ones dearly.\n\nEvery day she made an offering to the blessed Virgin, and prayed her to\nhave compassion on her loneliness, and give her a dear little child to\ntake care of, and love.\n\nAt last her prayers were answered.\n\nOne Christmas eve, when gifts in memory of the blessed Christ-child,\nwere making so many young hearts happy, a beautiful little daughter\nwas given to her, making her the happiest, most thankful woman, in all\nSanta Barbara.\n\nAs the parents were very rich, all the great Spanish families in the\ncounty were present at the christening; and all the priests from the\nMission of Santa Barbara were invited.\n\nThere was a great feast, and every one was delighted; but, above all,\nthe father and mother blessed God for his precious gift, which they\nprized more than all their great riches.\n\nThe little girl grew finely, and was very beautiful, not like the\nlovely children of the North, fair and golden haired, but her\ncomplexion was a rich olive, with the pure crimson blood of health\ntinging her cheeks, and her lips were red as ripe cherries. Her hair,\nin the sunshine, had a soft purple hue; in the shadow, it was black as\na raven's wing, and her dark eyes were as soft as a young gazelle's.\n\nShe possessed in a wonderful degree, the symmetry and grace of the\nSpanish women, and her hands and feet were so small and exquisitely\nformed, that they were the marvel of the whole country.\n\nIn the family there was an old duenna, who had taken charge of the\nmother when she was young, and, to her superintending care, the little\none was intrusted.\n\nYears before, the old duenna came from Spain with the mother's family,\nand her love for the beautiful lady whom she had nursed in infancy,\nalmost amounted to a passion; but for the proud Don Carlos, the\nhusband, she had a jealous hatred, though he was always kind to her,\nand made her life in the \"wilds of the strange country,\" (thus she\nalways spoke of California,) as pleasant as possible.\n\nThough she called herself a Christian, the wild blood of the Moors\nflowing through her veins, tinged her life with the mysticism and fire\nof that fated race.\n\nSometimes she would give herself over to strange devices and\nsuperstitions, which were very displeasing to her devout mistress, but\nthe old woman covered these distasteful habits with so much art and\naffection, that she enjoyed the confidence and love of the good lady,\nand generally every thing moved on very smoothly and pleasantly, at the\nBuenna Vineyard.\n\nThe house was large and commodious, built, like most Spanish houses in\nCalifornia, in the form of a square, with an open court in the center,\nand broad piazzas on all sides. It was very cool and pleasant, with its\nlatticed windows, and vine-covered porches.\n\nIn the rear was a beautiful garden, surrounded with a high, strong\nwall, and massive gates with bolts and bars.\n\nThere, in a grape-vine covered arbor, the purple fruit hanging within\nreach, the old duenna loved to sit, spinning lazily with her distaff,\nnow and then stopping to see that no harm came to the little Lenore in\nher play, and often calling her to her side, to listen to some quaint\nold Moorish legend.\n\nThe father and mother were very fond of their little daughter, and gave\nher every thing that heart could wish. One day, when the little girl\nwas about ten years old, the father called her to him, and said: \"Papa\nis going away, far across the waters to the fair castellated land,\nwhich has been your childhood's dream, to dear, beautiful Spain, and\nwhat shall I bring back for my little daughter?\"\n\nLenore's eyes grew large and liquid. \"Beautiful Spain! beautiful\nSpain!\" she exclaimed, clasping her hands in ecstasy.\n\n\"Every thing there is so lovely, how can I tell what to ask, dear papa;\nbut wait one moment,\" and she ran to the garden arbor, and told the\nduenna all, and said, \"What shall I ask?\" The old woman frowned till\nher brows met, then she laughed strangely, and said, \"You shall ask for\na string of pearls, as pure and white as snow, and as large and clear\nas the dew-drops.\"\n\nLenore ran into the house, and throwing her arms around the father's\nneck, ran her pretty fingers through his hair, and said, \"I would like,\npapa, a string of pearls for my hair, as pure and white as snow, and as\nlarge and clear as dew-drops in the first flush of the dawning.\"\n\nThe father looked at the little lady with a heart full of love and\npride, and he kissed fondly the little, pure, oval face that was\nlifted to his, and said, \"My little daughter shall have her wish, let\nit cost what it may.\"\n\nThe little girl clapped her hands, dancing about the room, full of\nhappiness, saying, \"The dear papa! the dear papa will bring me the most\nbeautiful pearls in the world.\"\n\nHer childish joy was subdued when she looked at the mother, who had a\nsmile of love on her lips, but a tear of sorrow in her eyes.\n\nThen the father said, \"What shall I bring mamma?\"\n\nThe mother answered, laying her head upon his shoulder, \"Only yourself,\ndear husband, and your precious love.\" A tear came to his eye, but he\nbrushed it hastily away, and whispered, \"I shall soon return, dear\nwife, to my dearest treasures;\" then he kissed them both, tenderly,\nand went away, leaving Lenore and the mother weeping bitterly.\n\nLenore soon sobbed herself to sleep, with the tears resting upon her\neyelashes and cheeks. The sunlight stealing in, and shining full upon\nher innocent face, made a tiny rainbow over her head.\n\nThe sad mother saw it, and thanked God that the bow of promise\noverbends its beautiful arch over all childish griefs, and she wiped\naway her own tears, saying, \"He will return again, my dear husband, why\nshould I distrust kind Heaven.\"\n\nWhen Lenore awoke, her pretty face was wreathed with smiles, and,\nkissing her mamma, she ran out into the garden to seek the old duenna.\n\nShe found her in her favorite arbor, spinning, but when she saw\nLenore she laid aside her distaff, and drew the child to her, with a\nmischievous smile upon her dark face.\n\nHer treatment of Lenore had always been marked by a strange commingling\nof the love she bore the mother, and aversion she felt for the father,\nbut through it all, she wove a web of fascination, that gave her great\npower over the susceptible heart of the young girl. Lenore sat down by\nher side, and for a while she talked of Spain, smoothing the child's\nhair caressingly with her wrinkled hand, then she told her a curious\nlegend; of how Boabdil, the Moorish king, had once a string of pearls\nlike those she had asked the father for, and how, after the Spaniards\nhad overcome the Moors in a great battle, he intrusted these lustrous\ngems, with much other treasure, to one of his servants to be hidden\nupon a distant island, but, by some strange misfortune, as they neared\nthe landing, the Moor dropped the pearls into the sea.\n\nNow this Moor was an enchanter, and, because he could not recover the\nlost treasure, he cast a spell upon it, that would bring death to the\nfirst, who should touch the pearls, perpetual servitude to the second,\nand riches, honor, beauty, and love to the third, who should retain\nthem in the family forever.\n\n\"No matter how many years should elapse, this would surely come to\npass,\" and again the old duenna laughed that strange, unpleasant\nlaugh. Lenore, trembling with fright, sobbed convulsively, \"Oh! the\ndear papa! the dear papa! he will die! I will call mamma, she will\nsend a messenger for him, he shall not touch the horrid pearls,\" and\nshe started up to go, but the duenna caught her. \"Silly child,\" she\nsaid, \"I will tell you no more pretty stories, that was only a legend,\nand the pearls were not real and true, but only dream pearls, just to\nplease my pretty child.\" She soothed Lenore and laughed again, till\nher tears were dried, and she joined to the shrill voice of the weird\nduenna, the merry, childish laugh of trusting innocence. The days of\nabsence passed by in dreamy quietude at the Buenna Vineyard.\n\nThe wife was very lonely, for no one could supply the place of the\nloved husband in her heart. The pretty, dark-eyed Lenore missed the\ndear papa sadly, but her time was much occupied by the master who\ntaught her music, French, and English. Spanish she learned from the\nduenna, who in this language was quite a scholar.\n\nEverywhere she followed the young Lenore, and, in her varied moods,\ntreated her with a curious combination of love and selfishness,\ntenderness and severity, but, through all, maintaining her unbounded\ninfluence over her charge.\n\nFull of wonderful legends of the Moors of old, she fostered a love of\nthe marvelous in the mind of the maiden, till often she would waken\nin the darkness of the midnight, from fearful dreams trembling of\nsuperstitious dread. One morning early, she ran into her mother's\nchamber and woke her kissing her eyes and cheek.\n\n\"Oh mamma\" she said, \"do wake up, I have had such a beautiful dream\nabout Boabdil's pearls, pure and white as snow, and large and\nglistening as the dew-drops. Some one from Spain brought them to me, so\nnoble and handsome, mamma, that I could not help loving him dearly, and\nI was so happy.\" \"But, Lenore,\" said the mother, \"where was the dear\npapa.\" \"Oh, mamma,\" said Lenore, \"I did not see him, he was not there.\"\n\nA strange terror filled her heart, and looked out from her startled\neyes, and she buried her head in the pillow and wept piteously.\n\n\"'Twas only a dream, my daughter,\" said the mother, tenderly, but\nstill Lenore sobbed. \"How could I forget the dear papa, for a stranger\nand a string of pearls.\" Then the mother kissed her, and soothed her\ntill she was comforted. Soon after a ship arrived, bringing letters\nfrom the father. \"I am now in Spain,\" he wrote, my dear, native land.\nBright Castile! the world has nothing like thee! No mountains like the\nsnow-capped Sierras, no valleys like Granadas, and no river like the\nblue Guadalquivir, but, \"where the treasure is, there will the heart\nbe also,\" and my greatest earthly treasures, wife and child, are in\nCalifornia, and, though far away in castellated Spain, my heart wings\nits way homeward, and every delight is treasured, to be renewed again,\nwith you. \"I shall soon return to you, dear wife, the husband you love,\nbut little daughter, the pearls, 'pure and white as snow, and large and\nclear as the dew-drops,' I have not found in Spain, but have heard of\nthem, and if possible you shall have them at any price.\"\n\nHe wrote a long letter, glowing with hope and affection, promising a\nspeedy return, and the mother took heart again, and was happy, while\nLenore thought with delight, how beautifully the rare, Moorish pearls\nwould glisten in her purple hair.\n\nShe seemed to have forgotten the dream, and the legend that frightened\nher so much. Even the name of pearls chained her listening ear, and\nthe duenna often talked of them, their great beauty, and how pure and\nlustrous they shone among the crown jewels of the Moorish king, till\nthe imagination of Lenore was spell-bound, by the magic beauty of the\nwondrous pearls. Often she would say, \"Mamma, show me your pearls.\"\n\nThen she would take them in her hands and count them, or twine them\nround the bands of her purple hair.\n\n\"Beautiful,\" she would say, as the sunlight kissed them, \"but not clear\nand large enough. 'Pure and white as snow;' and large and clear as\nthe dew-drops, these are not so, but the dear papa will bring them.\"\nLenore's great gift was music.\n\nShe would often sit in the twilight, and improvise rare snatches of\nmelody, and when the mother would say, \"What is that Lenore?\" she would\nanswer, \"My string of pearls, mamma,\" and go on playing as though the\ngenius of music thrilled her dainty fingers. One day the duenna called\nher to an old lumber-room, to see a picture. The picture was really a\ngood one, but had been cast aside because the frame was broken. 'Twas\nof a fair young girl, standing upon a rocky shore, looking eagerly out\nupon the waters, at the white sails of a ship the wind was wafting\ntoward her.\n\n\"What does the picture represent, Lenore?\" said the duenna. \"'Tis\na maiden watching on the shore, for the ship that brings her dear\npapa and the Moorish pearls, clear and white as snow, and large and\nglistening as the dew-drops.\" The old duenna smiled, as Lenore took the\npicture to her room, and hung it over her bed where she could see it on\nwaking.\n\nEvery day they went to the sea-shore and looked out upon the waters,\nfor the white sails of the ship that was to bring the father, till at\nlast one evening, when all the west was gorgeous with the radiance of\ngolden sunset clouds, the ship seemed to rise out of the waters, and\nthere, on the sanded sea-shore of Santa Barbara, was the living picture\nof the lumber-room.\n\nThe duenna had called Lenore from the garden early, saying, \"At sunset\nthe ship will be here; come pretty child, let us hasten to the shore,\"\nso Lenore ran and kissed the mother saying, \"Mamma! mamma! the ship,\nwith its white sails spread like the wings of a bird, is flying to us,\nand I must go. Oh! my snow-white pearls! my beautiful pearls!\"\n\n\"Lenore! Lenore!\" called the duenna, and the maiden ran away dancing,\nand clapping her hands, as she always did, when very happy. On came\nthe ship till it was moored in the harbor, and with one great rush the\npassengers came ashore.\n\nLenore's eyes dilated with delight, but by-and-by an anxious suspense\nfilled them.\n\n\"No more! no more!\" she cried, \"all landed; where is the dear papa?\"\n\nThe snow-white pearls were forgotten only the father filled her heart.\n\nThe duenna cast her eyes around. Don Carlos was not there, and who\nbetter than she knew that he could never return.\n\nThere was a handsome young stranger in the crowd, and, from his lordly\nbearing, she knew he must be a hidalgo of the old dominion, so she\napproached him and asked him for her master, Don Carlos.\n\n\"He is not here,\" said the stranger, \"but I bring a rare and beautiful\ngift for his daughter\u2014the famous Moorish pearls.\"\n\nLenore gave one glance at the stranger, she had seen him before in her\ndreams; and she trembled so that she could not move or speak.\n\n\"He is dead,\" said the duenna.\n\n\"He is dead,\" said the hidalgo, in a low tone, fixing his piercing\neyes upon the sharp, eager face of the duenna.\n\nLow as the words were spoken, they reached the strained ear of Lenore,\nand with a wild, broken wail, she fell insensible upon the ground.\n\nThe stranger handed the box which contained the pearls to the duenna,\nand taking the young girl tenderly in his arms, carried her home to the\nmother.\n\nPoor, heart-broken wife! The pearls had come, but not her treasure.\nLost! lost! God, pity all such!\n\nThe mother's love was all that saved her from madness; for her child,\nher beautiful Lenore, she bore the burden of life.\n\nThe stranger was kind and gentle.\n\nHe told the bitter story as soothingly as possible.\n\nWhen they arrived at the island, Don Carlos was suddenly taken ill,\nand just as the ship was about sailing, he breathed his last, first\nsending his undying love to his devoted wife, and the Moorish pearls to\nLenore.\n\n\"Tell them,\" he said, \"my last words were to bless them.\"\n\nIn the confusion of the first moments of their grief, the duenna stole\nfrom the room, her sallow face flushed with feverish eagerness.\n\n\"The pearls,\" she said, \"Don Carlos was the first to touch them, he is\ndead! This brave hidalgo was the second, and I will be the third to\nhold this wonderful talisman in my hands.\"\n\n\"Rich, fair, and beloved!\n\n\"Can I be fair, so old as I am?\n\n\"We shall see!\"\n\nShe pressed the secret spring, and pure and white as snow, large and\nglistening as the morning dew-drops, lay the Moorish pearls in their\ngolden casket. She took them in her hand, and held them to the light,\nand it seemed as though they absorbed whole floods of sunshine. \"How\nbeautiful,\" she exclaimed, then suddenly she dropped them upon her lap,\nand pressed her hand to her heart.\n\nWhat a strange, agonizing pain.\n\nIt seemed as though chains were riveted about her vitals.\n\n\"Can I be the second to touch the pearls, and forever a slave? No! no!\nIt cannot be!\n\n\"Don Carlos the first, the hidalgo the second, I am the third.\n\n\"Rich, fair, and beloved! But this pain,\" and again she pressed her\nhands upon her heart. Slowly she replaced the pearls in the casket, and\nthe pain passed away.\n\nWhen Lenore recovered she would not look at the pearls.\n\n\"Take them away, do not mention the hated gems to me,\" she said, with a\nshudder. So the duenna kept them.\n\nDay by day Lenore sat by the dear, sad mother, who only smiled when\nshe looked upon the beautiful face of her child, who grew more lovely\nwith every rising sun, at least so thought the young hidalgo. In their\nsorrow he never left them.\n\nAll that a devoted son could be, he was to the mother, and to Lenore he\nwas every thing.\n\nVery often the duenna sat alone in the garden-arbor, plying her\ndistaff, for Lenore seldom came to her. Often she would steal a glance\nat the beautiful pearls, saying: \"I am surely the third, why am I not\nrich and fair?\"\n\n\"Don Carlos is dead, the hidalgo was the second, I must be the third.\n\n\"I have the pearls, the rest will follow;\" then the distaff would\nfall from her hands, and she would dream curious day-dreams, and build\ncastles of her own in air.\n\nOne evening, just one year after their deep grief fell upon them, the\nyoung hidalgo and Lenore persuaded the mother to walk with them on the\nbeach.\n\nThe time had been very long and lonely to her since the\nsorrow-freighted ship came in, and as she sat upon a moss-covered\nstone, and saw the white sails of a gallant ship, winging its way to\nthe shore, the tears filled her eyes, and, that her sorrow might not\nsadden the hopeful young hearts of her children (as she loved to call\nthem), she bowed her head upon her hands, that they might not notice\nthe grief she could not restrain, when suddenly a joyous shout from\nLenore sent a warm thrill through her heart, and the blood danced\nthrough her veins with renewed life.\n\n\"The dear papa,\" cried Lenore, and sure enough, the proud form of Don\nCarlos was before them.\n\nOne moment and the happy wife was folded to the warm, true heart of her\nreturned husband, and Lenore clung to his arm, weeping for joy.\n\nOnce more light and happiness dawned upon the Buenna Vineyard, with\nthe return of the loved husband and father. How beautiful home looked\nto the wanderer, as he sank into his own chair, upon the vine-covered\npiazza. His grateful wife sat beside him, and Lenore stood leaning upon\nhis chair.\n\n\"How tall you have grown, my daughter,\" he said, looking proudly upon\nthe young maiden, just blooming into womanhood; \"but where are the\npearls, my darling?\"\n\n\"I have never seen them,\" said Lenore, \"how could I think of pearls\nand you; dear papa, gone!\" And again and again she kissed his bronzed\ncheek.\n\n\"Call the duenna,\" said the mother, smiling, \"we must see the pearls.\"\nSo Lenore called the duenna from her dreaming in the garden.\n\n\"Don Carlos returned! Not dead!\" exclaimed the old woman, while her\nheart stood still with fear, as she entered the room pale as death, and\ntrembling with an unknown dread.\n\n\"The pearls,\" said Don Carlos, after a kind greeting, to which her\npalsied tongue refused a response.\n\nShe gave them to him with a trembling hand, and, as he pressed the\nsecret spring, the golden casket opened, and there lay the wonderful\nMoorish pearls, pure and white as snow, and large and shining as the\ndew-drops in the flush of morning.\n\n\"Take them, Lenore, daughter,\" said the happy father, fondly, and the\nfair taper fingers of the maiden clasped the luminous treasure.\n\nThe duenna's eyes were fixed upon her.\n\nHow beautiful she grew with pleasure. Her dark eyes soft as a gazelles,\nwere radiant with light, her red lips parted with smiles, and the\nMoorish pearls adding a new luster to her purple hair.\n\n\"Can she be the third?\" thought the duenna, and in a voice husky with\nemotion she gasped: \"Don Carlos, those pearls! How came you by them?\nWhat hand has touched them?\"\n\n\"Tell us all, dear papa,\" said Lenore, not noticing the duenna's\nagitation, in her own delight.\n\n\"In all Spain,\" said the father, \"I could not find the pearls, but I\nheard of them from an old Moor.\n\n\"He said they were lost near the shore of a distant island, and he\npromised to procure them for me for a large reward, which I agreed to\ngive him; so we sailed for the island, but I became so ill at sea that\nwhen we arrived I was confined to my bed.\n\n\"At length the old Moor brought me this beautiful casket, and pressing\nthe spring I saw the pearls, radiant with all their snowy whiteness,\nbut I was so ill I did not take them out, and when I handed them back\nto the old Moor to place in my cabinet, the pearls fell out into his\nhands, and flooded the whole room with light. Great Allah! exclaimed\nthe old man, in terror, and, as he replaced them and closed the casket,\nhe fell down and expired instantly.\n\n\"The physician said he died of heart disease. I grew much worse, and\nfearing I should die, confided the pearls to the care of our friend,\nwho brought them to you, and soon after I fell into a swoon so like\ndeath that all thought me dead, and the ship sailed without me.\n\n\"The white sails were not hidden from sight when I began to recover,\nbut a long, lingering illness detained me from home, but thank God I am\nwith you at last, darlings, well and happy.\"\n\n\"And now that my dear papa is home again, I can enjoy the pearls, the\nbeautiful pearls,\" said Lenore, still toying with the luminous gems.\n\n\"More beautiful in your hair than in the golden casket,\" said the\nadmiring hidalgo.\n\n\"The se\u00f1orita was the second to touch them,\" he continued, \"since\nBoabdil's minion consigned them to their hiding-place.\"\n\n\"No, I was the second, shrieked the duenna, clasping her hands to her\nheart, where the chains of servitude were riveted.\n\n\"Always a slave,\" she moaned, as they bore her from the room, flushed\nwith the delirium of fever.\n\nFor many days she lay prostrate upon a bed of sickness, but when at\nlast she recovered the evil spirit had passed from her forever.\n\nShe was kind and gentle, ready to serve any one, but especially the\nmaster.\n\n\"I am but the servant of servants,\" she would say. \"I will do my duty\nin the station whereunto I am called. God have mercy upon my soul.\"\n\nDon Carlos and the mother lived to see Lenore wife of the handsome\nhidalgo, and the mother of a maiden beautiful as herself, whose purple\nhair often glowed in the luminous rays of the wonderful Moorish pearls.\n\n\n\n\n\"THE TWO GOOD-FOR-NOTHINGS.\"\n\n\nA long time ago, in a little village on the banks of the Rhine, lived\nthe young boy Karl, in the low, rude cottage of his father, Hans\nHeidermann, the carpenter.\n\nKarl was the second son in a family of ten children, all boys but the\nbaby in the cradle\u2014the little, blue-eyed Ethel, the pet and darling of\nthe household.\n\nThe good Lord had sent to the cottage plenty of children, \"the poor\nman's blessing;\" and in their youthful days, when Hans and his good\nwife were strong and full of hope, the little ones were greeted with\nsmiles of love.\n\nLater in life, when the mother found that, with all her patient labor,\nthe tiny feet must go unclad, and eat little as she possibly could, the\nsupper was not only poor but very scanty, the boy Julian and baby Ethel\nwere wept over at their coming, yet with tears so full of compassionate\ntenderness that the mother's love shone through them more sweetly than\nthrough the sunshine of smiles that dawned upon their first baby.\n\nThe youthful days of Karl were passed in toil, and though the natural\njoyousness of childhood would sometimes bubble up and overflow, the\nmantle of care fell upon him very early.\n\nWhen he was only sixteen, he was quite a man in his ways, and able to\ncontribute not a little to the comfort and support of the family, and\nhe, more than all the rest, was ever ready to lighten the burden of the\nmother's weariness and cares.\n\nWhen Karl was eighteen years old, he was guilty of a great piece of\nfolly for a poor boy, though I am sure he was not to blame. It was the\npretty, violet eyes and sweet voice of the young maiden Chimlein that\nmade him so much in love with her.\n\nPoor, foolish Karl! with nothing but his handsome boyish face and\nhonest German heart to give her, even his strong willing hands still\nbelonged to the father and mother.\n\nPoor, foolish Karl, to be in love! But he was very hopeful! The\nbrothers were growing strong, and even now all but the little Julian,\ncould add something to the family store. What brightness, wealth, and\nhappiness might not two years bring them all.\n\nOne evening, about this time, Karl received from the merchant, his\nemployer, for a successful month's work, quite a present over his\nusual pay, as a reward for his faithful industry.\n\nHe was very happy as he started homeward, and, looked smilingly upon\nhis patched clothes, thinking \"Now I shall be able to buy the new\nsuit I need so much, and I can take Chimlein the beautiful, to hear\nthe rare music that she loves so well, and she will store it away in\nher bird-like throat, and some day it will gush forth in loving songs\nin our own cottage home.\" Then he sung gay snatches of his favorite\nopera\u2014for even the peasantry of Germany are born musicians\u2014and,\nlooking at the sunshine as it danced upon the bright waters of the\nRhine, he blessed the good Lord for the brightness, beauty, and\nhappiness of life.\n\nSoon the shadow of the cottage fell upon him, and he entered to find\ntears dimming the eyes of the mother as she went silently about her\nwork. She wiped them hastily away, but Karl had seen them, and all his\nbright dreams melted at the sight of the dear, pale face, shadowed by\nage and sorrow.\n\nThrowing his strong arm round her, he softly said, \"What ails thee,\nmother?\"\n\nThen she told him how an old debt of the father's became due on the\nmorrow, and how she feared, she knew not what, because there was no\nmoney to pay it.\n\nSo Karl put his hand into his bosom and drew forth the treasure that was\nto bring him so much happiness, and placing it in his mother's hand,\nsaid: \"Take it, mother, dear;\" and before she could reply, he had gone\nout into the soft, summer air, down to the banks of the dear Rhine River.\n\nThe sun had sunk in clouds of crimson and gold, and the gray twilight\ncast its cold shadows upon the waters, and Karl's heart had grown\nvery heavy as he thought of the sweet-voiced Chimlein, and her\ndisappointment. \"But 'twas for mother,\" he said. \"Poor mother, how pale\nshe looked, her eyes wet with tears.\"\n\nHe walked on, silently, looking with dreamy eyes out of the dim present\ninto the untried future.\n\nOne year after, he stood by the mother's new made grave, and, while\nhis heart swelled with sorrow, he blessed God that he had been to\nhis care-burdened mother a loving and dutiful son. And then came the\nthought of the old clothes that, for her sake, he had worn so long,\nand he could have kissed the dear old clothes, grown so patched and\nthreadbare, for her sake, the _dear, dead mother_.\n\nAfter the mother's death, the family was broken up.\n\nThe little Ethel and Julian went away to another part of the country,\nto live with a good aunt, who was very kind to them, and the younger\nbrothers went to trades, and only Karl and the father remained at the\ncottage. Then it was that Karl brought home the sweet-voiced Chimlein\nto be the angel of his house.\n\n\"The dear father is lonely,\" she would say, as with her quiet words,\nand small, white hands she smoothed his pathway down the rugged vale of\ndim old age.\n\nThe good God only lends us the presence of his angels for a short time,\nand in the spring-time he called Chimlein from her home by the blue\nRhine River, to her home in heaven, the golden, and from the heart of\nKarl, her husband, to the bosom of the blessed Mother.\n\nThe cottage was very dark and lonely after Chimlein went to heaven.\nKarl went out to his work with a sad heart, and returned in silence\nto sit by his desolate hearth-stone, till the fire went out in the\nmidnight darkness.\n\nThe father (now an old man with locks white as the driven snow) sat\nduring the long, summer days by the little willow cradle, and sang in\nthe shrill treble of broken and sorrowful old age, to Chimlein's little\none; or, when the babe was full of playful innocent life, he would take\nit down to the banks of the clear Rhine, to revel in the sunshine and\nlisten to the voice of the waters.\n\nTo the old man's desolate heart, that child was a priceless blessing,\nand in his eyes she was the most beautiful of all the good Lord's fair\ncreation.\n\nWhen she was three months old, he dressed her in snowy white, and bore\nher to the baptismal font, where she received the name of Gretchen,\nthough to the grandfather she was always \"mein sch\u00f6nes kind\" (my\nbeautiful child).\n\nA circle of golden curls played around her baby face, and the violet\neyes of her mother shone clearly in the fair light of the morning, as\nshe looked steadily into the face of the priest who took her in his\narms and blessed her with the baptismal water which consecrated her \"a\nchild of God and an heir of heaven.\"\n\nThe old grandfather gazed wonderingly at the child, as in the softened\nlight of the sunshine stealing through the cathedral windows she looked\nso like the rare picture of the divine Christ-child.\n\n\"She is even now a bird of Paradise,\" whispered tremblingly the old\nman, as he received the little one from the priest's hands. \"The angel\nsoul is looking out from her violet eyes, and heaven's blessed light\nfalls like a halo of glory upon her golden curls.\"\n\nWith a shudder, the old man sunk away into the shadow until the\nsunshine had faded from her hair, and rocking her to and fro, while a\nmaster's hand sent rare, glorious music from the grand cathedral organ,\nhe watched the violet eyes till they closed, and the rich brown lashes\nrested upon her fair baby cheeks. One little soft hand was tangled in\nthe old man's beard, and the tone of her gentle breathing told him that\nhis darling slept the pure, refreshing sleep of healthful infancy, and\nonce more his heart was calm and happy.\n\nKarl loved the beautiful child; but when he looked at her, and saw\nher mother's eyes reflected in the dewy light of hers, a deep sadness\nfilled his heart, and often he turned quickly away to hide the\nglistening of his eyes, and drew his rough hand over his face to drive\nback the unshed tears.\n\n\"Poor little motherless thing,\" he would say: \"If it was only a boy!\"\n\"Poor little daughter, ever too much you will need a mother's care.\"\nThen he would snatch up his hat and go out to the banks of the blue\nRhine, where the body of the angel Chimlein rested. To the man, nothing\nis so dear as the pure, true woman of his heart.\n\nTwo summers had passed over the head of the little Gretchen, making\nher more charming than ever, with all the winsome ways of her innocent\nchildhood.\n\nThe grandfather was becoming every day more infirm in body, and every\nday brought his mind nearer to the innocent child who was the darling\nof his heart. Nearer and nearer to heaven, the golden, he walked with\nfaltering steps through the darkened vale of second childhood.\n\nWhen at home, Karl would watch sorrowfully over these two children, the\nold man and the beautiful child; but when he was away at his work, they\nwere a constant care upon his mind.\n\nIn passing his neighbor's door, Karl often noticed Elizabeth, the\nthrifty daughter of the house. He saw that her restless hands were\nalways busy; not one speck of dust escaped her sharp, black, eye.\n\nThough her voice was loud and shrill (Karl knew too well he could never\nfind another sweet-voiced Chimlein) he hoped her heart was kind, and\nhe thought she might take better care of the father and the little\nGretchen than he could. So he asked her to be his child's mother, his\nfather's daughter, and the mistress of his cottage.\n\nElizabeth felt keenly that he was no ardent lover; but he was her\nfirst, and might be her last; so with no more intense feeling than a\ndesire to secure a home for herself and a provider for her wants, she\nconsented to be his wife, and become mistress of the cottage.\n\nElizabeth was full of energy, and after she went to the cottage there\nwas a great change in its appearance. Every nook and corner was made\nthoroughly clean, the rents in the curtains were neatly mended, the\nbits of carpet were all washed and spread down upon the sanded floor,\nand there was always a clean shirt for Karl when he came from his work,\nand a button, was never known to be missing.\n\nAltogether there was not a more notable housewife in all the burg than\nElizabeth. But her shrill voice grated sharply upon the sensitive ear,\nand, worse than all, it seems as though the old grandfather and the\nlittle Gretchen were always in her way.\n\nFrom morning till night the old grandfather had a vile pipe in his\nmouth, and the smoke made every thing black and dirty. She then would\nlook at her clean curtains and whitewashed walls, and frown. He was\ncontinually dropping the ashes about, and sometimes would even spit\nupon the floor, which was too much for mortal woman to bear; and then\nthere was no end to the trouble the little Gretchen made her in a\nthousand ways.\n\nTo think that she, who always disliked children, should be obliged to\ntake care of another woman's child!\n\nAt first she would bite her lips and choke down the angry words that\nstrove for utterance, but in her heart she called them \"THE TWO\nGOOD-FOR-NOTHING'S,\" and would cast such angry looks upon them that\nin their shrinking sensitiveness they would steal away to the banks\nof the blue Rhine and try to forget Elizabeth and their trouble. But\nalas! poor unfortunates! too often they would return with torn or\nsoiled clothes, and then the mistress would be more angry than ever.\n\nIt was only for a short time that Elizabeth confined her anger to black\nlooks. Before she had been in the cottage two months, her sharp voice\nwould ring its angry changes upon the _Two Good-for-Nothings_, as she\nnow loudly called them, and both the grandfather and little Gretchen\nwent about silent and trembling, like two culprits who feared detection\nand punishment.\n\nShe would have them to go to bed before Karl returned in the evening,\nfor she was very careful to conceal her unkind treatment of them from\nhim. He was obliged to go very early in the morning to his work, and\nsaw but little of them, and as the cottage looked clean and cheerful\nwhen he returned, he thought they were well cared for.\n\nSometimes, for whole days the old grandfather and the little one would\nwander on the banks of the beautiful Rhine River, and in her sweet\ninfantile voice she would rival the songs of the birds.\n\nSo wonderful a development of voice in the child was a marvel to all\nwho heard her, and the fond old man's heart swelled with pride as the\nneighbors gathered round to hear her sing. Every one loved them but the\nmistress, and they were always sure of a welcome at the noon-day meal\nfrom any of the neighbors. The silver-haired old man was \"grandfather\"\nto them all, and the little child \"mein schonest liebes.\"\n\nThe mistress did not object to their long strolls from home. \"The\nGood-for-Nothings\" were only in the way; it did her good to have them\nout of her sight a few minutes; while they, poor innocents, escaped\nmany a rough scolding, and the little child many a blow from the hard\nhand of the mistress.\n\nHow they enjoyed those days together.\n\nAs Gretchen grew older, and the grandfather more feeble, she would lead\nhim by the hand and run to the neighbor's for a coal to light his pipe,\nsaying: \"The dear grandfather must smoke.\" Then they would sit down on\nthe green bank, and with the smoke-wreaths curling above his head the\ngrandfather would tell old legends and fairy tales to half the children\nin the village, and \"little Golden Hair,\" as the children called her,\nwould sing to them.\n\nOne day, when Gretchen was about five years old, they returned from\ntheir accustomed stroll to find a new inmate at the cottage, and Karl\ncalled them to look at the little sister baby. The old grandfather\nlooked sad, for he could not love the mistress's child as he did\nChimlein's, and he feared it would bring yet greater trouble to his\nlittle Gretchen. But the unsuspecting child opened her large violet\neyes full of wonder and delight, thinking, as all little girls do,\nthere is nothing in the world so pretty as a baby.\n\nBut that baby was her destiny.\n\nNo more days by the dear Rhine River. No more songs with the village\nchildren, or fairy tales told under the waving trees with the fresh\nair blowing round them. But the little, golden-haired child became a\nfixture by the cradle. The baby would not go to sleep unless soothed\nby Gretchen's voice, which now was oftener full of subdued pathos than\nchildish joyousness.\n\nThe grandfather, too, had his hours of care and watching. But day by\nday he was drawing nearer the dark river that rolled between him and\nheaven the golden. His earthly love seemed all centered in Gretchen.\nKarl he seldom saw except on Sundays, and then, in his rough manhood,\nthough he was always kind to his father, he seemed a great way off with\nthe harsh Elizabeth for his wife.\n\nOnly Golden Hair, knew and shared the old man's cares and sorrows. At\nnight she slept in his bosom and always rested in his heart.\n\nThe two \"Good-for-Nothings!\"\n\nAlike sufferers from the mistress's harshness, how they loved each\nother, though they dared not show it when the mistress was near. She\nwas angry at such nonsense, as she termed their holy affection.\n\nThe winter after Gretchen was six years old, was very cold and stormy.\nThe blue waters of the Rhine had grown black and sullen. In the cottage\ntimes were not improved. The baby was teething. The mistress was not\nwell, and visited her accumulating ills upon the poor Good-for-Nothings.\n\nShe would not have allowed Gretchen to sing at all, but for the baby,\nof whom the little girl now had nearly the whole charge. And very thin\nand pale she looked, with the rich flush of her golden curls falling\nupon her white forehead, and her violet eyes large and languid; but her\nlittle hands were red and hard, poor little hands that had so much to\ndo.\n\nChild as she was, the woman was growing in her heart, and with\ntenderest care she watched the grandfather who had no one but her who\nunderstood his sensitive feebleness, and loved to care for him. Many\ntimes in the day, when the mistress was out of the room, she would put\nher little hand in his, and kiss him. Only the sick and sorrowful know\nhow sweet was the pressure of that loving hand.\n\nOne day, in that miserable winter, the baby had been more troublesome\nthan usual, the mistress more unkind and exacting, and the Two\nGood-for-Nothings more silent and depressed. Gretchen had been whipped\nbecause she did not sing; but how could she, when the grandfather's\nchair had been moved to be out of the way, into a corner far from the\nfire, and he was trembling with cold; and, more than this, Gretchen saw\nby his heavy eyes and pale face that he was ill\u2014how much, poor child,\nshe did not know.\n\nAfter a time the baby slept, and the mistress left the room. Then\nGretchen stole to the old man's side, and threw her arms round his\nneck, and begged him to draw near the fire.\n\n\"Never mind, Golden Hair,\" said the old man, \"grandfather is going\nwhere he will never be sick or cold any more. But, oh, mein kleines\nkind (my little child), 'tis thou that break'st my heart. To leave thee\nalone! mein liebes, mein schonest.\"\n\nTears gathered in the dim eyes of the old man, and the cold, withered\nhand stroked lovingly the golden hair of the little maiden, who looked\nwonderingly at him with her large, violet eyes glistening, and the big\ntears rolling down her pale face.\n\n\"Mein kleines Gretchen, she'll whip you, and call you\n_Good-for-Nothing_ when your old grandfather's gone; but sing, mein\nliebes, sing all you can; the good Lord will hear the voice of his\nown. Oh! to leave you, kleina, 'tis so hard! so hard!\" And the old man\nrocked himself to and fro, weeping and trembling with cold and sickness.\n\nThe little Gretchen threw her arms around his neck, kissing his tears,\nand, half choking with sobs, she whispered: \"You'll smoke, grandfather,\ndarling; your little Golden Hair'll get your pipe.\" Little child! she\ncould think of nothing else, and she must do something for the dear\ngrandfather; and often before, the pipe had been a great solace to him,\nwhen the mistress had been unkind; so the little nimble feet ran for\nit, and brought it to him filled, and with the red coal glowing in the\nbowl.\n\nJust then the baby cried out, and Elizabeth entered in time for her\nsharp, black eyes to take in the whole scene.\n\nSnatching the pipe angrily from the little child's hand, she threw it\nagainst the chimney, breaking it into many pieces. \"I'll teach you to\nleave the baby to be playing with fire. Take that, Good-for-Nothing.\"\nAnd she gave Gretchen a sharp blow upon the little golden-crowned head,\nand pushed her toward the cradle, adding, \"see if you can sing now!\"\n\nAnd Gretchen tried hard to obey, but 'twas a wail, broken with sobs,\nthat rose from the bursting heart of the child, through the winter cold\nair of the Rhine land, to the feet of the good Lord who took little\nchildren in his arms and blessed them.\n\nThat night when little Gretchen was sleeping, her weary head resting on\nthe grandfather's bosom, his troubled spirit passed alone and silently\nthrough the dim portals of the dusky way, and, entering the pearly\ngates, found perfect rest in heaven the golden.\n\nIn the early morning, Karl was awakened by a wild, piteous cry.\n\n'Twas little Gretchen. The grandfather was cold, icy cold, and she\ncould not warm him, though she had rubbed him till her own little hands\nwere like ice, and had pressed her soft, warm cheek to his.\n\nShe could not warm him! He could not speak to her\u2014not one word from\nthe dear grandfather for the poor, little, motherless child, now the\nlone \"Good-for-Nothing.\"\n\nWhen Karl found that the grandfather was really dead, with the big tears\nrolling down his cheek, he took the little Gretchen in his arms, and\nwrapping a blanket round her, walked to and fro, trying to soothe her.\n\nHe loved the old father and the little daughter. But the poor man's lot\nleaves little time for endearing cares. He must work early and late to\nprocure even coarse food and clothes for his family.\n\nLittle Gretchen's bitter, but uncomplaining grief brought tears to the\neyes of the kind neighbors, as they looked upon her sad, pale face, and\nlarge eyes, so filled with the shrinking loneliness of her sensitive\nnature. Even the mistress's heart was touched by the hopeless agony of\nthe little one, and while the grandfather lay dead in the house, she\nwas more gentle and kind to her than she had been before.\n\nIn a few days they buried him under the trees, by the blue Rhine River.\nBy Chimlein's grave, where he had so often listened to the sweet voice\nof his little Golden Hair, the poor old \"_Good-for-Nothing_\" sleeps his\nlast, cold sleep.\n\nVery wearily rolled now the years for Gretchen.\n\nAs she grew older, the household drudgery fell upon her. The mistress\nseldom gave her a pleasant look or word, and no matter what went\nwrong with the house or children, the burden of all fell upon the poor\n\"Good-for-Nothing.\"\n\nThe mistress had now four children, of whom Gretchen had almost the\nentire charge; and, at the age of fourteen, in the frail form of a\ndelicate child, she bore the heart of a subdued and sorrowful woman.\n\nShe had had no opportunities for improvement, always at work in the\ncottage; yet her voice, a marvel in infancy, increased wonderfully\nin strength and clearness. It was a God's gift, and she sung with\nmatchless sweetness and taste, heaven taught.\n\nOne day, as Gretchen sat rocking the youngest child in her arms, and\nsinging as only she could, there came a knocking at the door. The\nmistress opened it, and saw a tall, sweet-faced lady dressed in deep\nmourning.\n\nThere was a fine carriage at the gate, and she knew by the lordly\ncoat-of-arms, her visitor was no ordinary person, so she dropped a low\ncourtesy and waited.\n\n\"Was it you, my good woman, I heard singing just now?\" said the lady.\n\n\"Ah, no, madam, 'twas only Gretchen, the Good-for-Nothing, putting the\nbaby to sleep.\"\n\n\"But the Good-for-Nothing can sing beautifully, and I would hear her\nagain.\"\n\nSo the lady entered the cottage, to find Gretchen bending over the now\nsleeping child, with the flush of shame crimsoning her cheeks, for she\nhad heard Elizabeth's coarse reply. But she rose and courtesied to the\nlady, and, as she did so, the old broken comb fell from her hair, and a\nshower of rich golden curls covered her neck and shoulders.\n\nPoor little Gretchen! How the accident confused her. She did not\nknow that she looked very beautiful, and that her modesty was an\ninexpressible charm.\n\n\"Sing again, my child,\" said the lady, kindly.\n\nAnd Gretchen sang a little German song, full of pathos and beauty; and\nthough her voice trembled with agitation, it lost none of its pure\nrichness.\n\nTears came to the lady's eyes, and, as if speaking to herself, she\nsaid:\u2014\n\n\"My little Adela was about her age; these golden curls are like hers,\nand she sang sweetly, but not like this child.\"\n\nThen the lady drew Gretchen to her, and asked her if she would be her\nlittle girl, and love her.\n\nShe told her how her own little daughter had died, and Gretchen told\nher of the dear grandfather; then she threw her little, weary arms\naround the fair lady's neck, and they wept together\u2014the _childless\nmother_ and the _motherless child_.\n\nElizabeth was very angry when she found the lady wanted to adopt\nGretchen. \"The miserable Good-for-Nothing,\" after all the trouble she\nhad had with her, and just as she was beginning to be able to \"earn her\nsalt.\" And she was to be the rich lady's child, while her own children\nmust remain in poverty. 'Twas too much, and she determined to prevent it.\n\nShe went out to meet Karl, and told him her querulous story.\n\nBut Karl loved his child, and when the lady told him she would make\nGretchen as her own child and love her dearly, he kissed his little\ndaughter, and placing her hand in the good lady's, told her he had\nnever been able to do for Gretchen as his heart desired, and he blessed\nthe good Lord that she had at last found a friend who would give her a\nmother's care and love.\n\nSo they went away together, the high-born Countess and the beautiful\npeasant child.\n\nThe little Good-for-Nothing grew up to be a lovely and accomplished\nwoman. Her matchless voice became the marvel of the gifted and\nhigh-born, as it had once been of the village peasantry.\n\nAfter she had arrived at a proper age she married the countess's\nnephew, who had loved her tenderly for years, and lived to see her\nchildren's children noble, prosperous, and happy.\n\nIn her prosperity, Gretchen did not forget her toil-burdened father,\nand even Elizabeth and her children shared the favors heaped upon him\nby the once despised _little Good-for-Nothing_.\n\n\n\n\nCHING CHONG CHINAMAN.\n\n\nIn the \"early days\" a gallant ship left the harbor of Hong Kong, in the\nland of the Celestials, bound for the port of San Francisco.\n\nAmong the emigrants was a young China boy, of the better class, whose\nfather and mother had both died suddenly, leaving to their son only the\nmemory of the happy days of the past, over which a fleeting prosperity\nand paternal love had cast the halo of perpetual sunshine.\n\nHis father was a merchant, supposed to be immensely wealthy, but after\nthe debts of the house were paid Ching Chong found himself alone in the\nworld, and very destitute.\n\nOne evening as he walked out through the suburbs of the city, he met a\nmerchant who had been a great friend of his father. The old gentleman\nstopped the boy, and kindly inquired what he was doing, and how he had\nbeen getting along since his father's death.\n\nChing Chong was feeling very desolate, and at these expressions of\ninterest the unbidden tears began to flow down his cheeks, till, unable\nto restrain himself, he bowed his face upon his hands, and sobbed as if\nhis heart would break.\n\nThe old man gave him time to recover himself and when the boy dashed\nthe tears proudly away with the back of his hand, trying to call up the\ndawning manhood in his heart, he said: \"I will help you, you are the\nson of the friend of my youth, you shall be my son.\"\n\nHe took the young Ching Chong by the hand, kindly, led him home to his\nown house, and provided him with the best instruction the city afforded.\n\nAt the age of fifteen, Ching Chong was as handsome and intelligent a\nboy as could be found in the city of Hong Kong.\n\nOne day his benefactor called him to him, and told him of the distant\ngold land. \"There, my son,\" he said, \"you shall go to seek your\nfortune. I will provide you with every thing necessary for the journey,\nbut you must keep a strict account, and at the end of five years\nreturn, and share the gains with me.\"\n\n\"If you do well in all things, I will reward you doubly, for I love you\nas my own son.\"\n\nHere the merchant embraced him so tenderly, that the eyes of Ching\nChong were moistened with tears of gratitude.\n\nThen the merchant gave him much good advice, which the young Ching\nChong promised faithfully to follow.\n\nAs the dusk of evening came on, both grew thoughtful and silent; at\nlast the old man took the boy's hand in his, saying: \"I have been\nthinking of a curious legend which our fathers believed.\"\n\nThen he told him how years before two Chinamen, a giant and a dwarf,\nwent out into the great world, far beyond the shining waters, to seek\ntheir fortune together. How, after a weary time and great labor, they\nfound a cavern full of gold and precious stones, but at the entrance\nsat two men guarding the treasure.\n\nThe Chinamen were very cold and hungry, and the two men gave them food\nand warm blankets, but they would not allow them to touch even one of\nthe lustrous gems that sparkled around them.\n\nAt last the Chinamen went away quite rested, and with plenty of food in\ntheir sacks. They had gone only a short distance down the ca\u00f1on, when\nin the darkest shadow the giant stopped.\n\n\"Let us rest here,\" he said, \"and talk over our plans for the future.\nThere is a great treasure near us, I am strong, you are active, and we\nare separated from our wishes by only two men of ordinary strength.\"\n\nThe dwarf sighed heavily. \"They have been kind to us, but for them we\nmust have died of hunger.\"\n\n\"Fool,\" replied the giant, \"there is enough for all.\"\n\nThen it was they sat talking till the stronger prevailed over the\nweaker, and, at the still hour of midnight, they went back to the\ncavern of gold.\n\nThe dwarf had begged hard for the lives of the men, but the cruel\ngiant was obdurate.\n\n\"Let them die,\" he said, \"and the treasure will be ours.\"\n\nIn the darkness he struck the blow, but instead of falling upon the\nmen, as he had intended, he struck the stone on which their heads\nhad rested. A harsh ringing sound resounded through the cavern, and\nsuddenly a great light flashed up, and almost blinded them, so that\nthey covered their eyes with their hands.\n\nWhen a moment after they glanced fearfully around, they saw not two\ncommon men, but two horrid monsters. Whether immense giants or genii,\nthey could not tell, but the giant Chinaman before them seemed but a\nboy in size.\n\nThe poor Chinamen trembled with fear, and begged the monsters to spare\ntheir lives.\n\n\"I did not wish to kill you,\" said the dwarf. \"Oh, dear! have pity!\nhave pity! and he clasped his little hands imploringly; while his teeth\nchattered with the intensity of his fear.\n\n\"You would have robbed us,\" replied the monster, \"and for this you\nshall be punished.\"\n\nThen he laid a spell upon them, condemning them to remain far from\ntheir beloved China. Wandering through the gold land, and finding\ntreasures, but never possessing them.\n\nTo the dwarf he said, \"because the good had not all gone out of your\nheart, you may be permitted to aid the future gold-seekers, and they\nshall be blessed by your guidance. But a curse shall follow the gifts\nof the giant, and his bones shall bleach upon the mountains of the\nstranger land.\"\n\n\"Strive by deeds of kindness, poor dwarf,\" he continued, \"to wipe out\nthe stain of this present great sin of your life, so that at last, when\nyou die, your body may be wafted to the pleasant shore of the celestial\ncountry.\"\n\nThen he drove them out of the cave, and they began their weary\nwanderings. The giant filled with angry bitterness, and the heart of\nthe dwarf subdued and penitent.\n\nFor some time after the merchant had finished his story, Ching Chong\nsat in silence. At last he exclaimed, eagerly, \"who knows but they are\nnow in the gold-land to which I am going.\"\n\n\"I had thought of that,\" answered the old man. \"It may be all a myth,\nbut as you say 'who knows!' At all events there is no harm in my\nsaying, _beware of the giant, and look out for the dwarf_.\"\n\nJust as the ship was about sailing, the merchant gave to Ching Chong\na curious black wand, saying, \"this is a divining-rod, and will help\nyou to find the treasure. Remember all I have said to you. Especially\n_beware of the giant_.\"\n\nAgain Ching Chong promised, and they embraced with much affection.\n\nAt last the signal was given, the anchor weighed, and the merchant\nhastened on shore, to look out upon the waters, till Ching Chong,\nleaning over the railing of the deck, faded from his sight.\n\nThus Ching Chong became a gold-seeker, and many were the gorgeous\ndreams that filled the mind of the youth, as the ship sailed lazily\nover the placid waters.\n\nAt last, after the usual amount of winds and calms, storms and fair\nweather, the good ship sailed through the Golden Gate, and into the\npleasant harbor of San Francisco.\n\nChing Chong disembarked with the other passengers, a stranger in a land\nof strangers, where even the language of the country fell upon his ear,\nthe unmeaning jargon of an unknown tongue.\n\nFortunately for him, he was not the only Chinaman in the country,\nthough at that early day they were few in number. The Queen city of the\nPacific was then a city of many sand hills, and a few poor shanties,\nbut it was full of energy, perseverance, and hope.\n\nChing Chong was a quick, active lad, and soon learned enough of English\nto procure a situation, and for some time remained in San Francisco.\n\nAt night, when his work was over, he would take a look at his\ndivining-rod, and he often noticed it would turn in his hand, till\nit pointed to the mountain country, awaking all the wild dreams, and\neager longings that in the leisure hours of the sea-voyage filled his\nimagination.\n\nAt last he could resist the impulse no longer, and joined a party of\nprospectors for the mining districts.\n\nFor months Ching Chong wandered over the mountains with his comrades,\ntill his shoes were worn out, and his trousers and blue shirt so\npatched with flour-sacks, that it was impossible for the uninitiated to\ndistinguish the original material.\n\nStill he found nothing, even the divining-rod seemed to have lost its\npower, save when he was alone.\n\nOne night he sat apart from the others, feeling very sad, and wishing\nhe had never left China. The homesick longing to see his native land\ngrowing continually in his heart, oppressed him greatly.\n\nThe thought of the kind old merchant who had been as a father to\nhim, pursued him, but deeper down in his heart was cherished the\nmemory of the merchant's daughter. The gentle Ah Zore maiden with the\nalmond-shaped eyes, and tiny feet.\n\nJust as he was yielding himself to tender dreams, his wand rested upon\nhis bosom, and there he felt his secret talisman, the divining-rod.\n\nRising up hastily, he resolved to go off alone, and yield to the\nimpulse of the wand. Hoping he might be more successful than in the\nweary months he had passed with his companions.\n\nWith this resolve, the pressure of the rod became greater, awaking\njoyous hopes that had long been strangers to him.\n\nHe thought of the curious legend the merchant had told him, and\nwhispering softly to himself, he said: \"Where the wand leads I will\ngo\u2014on to fortune, or death; any thing is better than the weariness of\nmy present life.\"\n\nIt was a beautiful, balmy night. The silvery moonlight and the stars\nbrightened even the dim cavern, and flooded the mountains with a\nluminous beauty.\n\nChing Chong went silently up the mountain path until he came to a ledge\nthe miners had been prospecting that day.\n\nStill the divining-rod urged him on, till he had gone miles farther\ninto the mountains than ever before.\n\nAbout twelve o'clock, he began to be hungry and weary, for it was the\nearly evening when he started, and after a hard day's work.\n\nSuddenly the divining-rod changed, and pointed downward, and as Ching\nChong looked, he saw what appeared to be the entrance of a cavern, but\na huge stone was rolled against it.\n\nHe perceived a small opening which the stone left uncovered, through\nwhich he might have crept, but the darkness within was so dense that he\ndare not enter.\n\nHe threw himself down upon the ground quite overcome with hunger and\nfatigue, and taking a piece of hard bread from his pocket, began\neating, and thinking almost hopelessly of the future.\n\nHe was aroused by a harsh voice, and looking up, saw, just before him,\nthe immense form of a giant Chinaman.\n\n\"What are you doing here, countryman,\" said the giant, opening his huge\nmouth, and glaring with his ugly eyes upon the startled boy.\n\n\"I am thinking of home,\" replied Ching Chong, sadly, \"and fearing I\nshall never see that dearest spot again.\"\n\n\"Thank God, the bodies of all true Chinamen are carried back to repose\nin death in the bosom of their mother-land.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to insult me, minion,\" cried the giant, while his face\ngrew livid with rage, and he would have killed Ching Chong with one\nblow of his heavy club, but the boy sprang lightly out of his way.\n\n\"Foiled again,\" he muttered, between his teeth. \"Come here, boy,\" he\nadded, \"I will not hurt you, silly fool.\"\n\n\"I was only joking, just to see you jump out of the way;\" and he gave a\nloud laugh that made the mountains echo.\n\nThe rod in his bosom urging him on, Ching Chong drew cautiously near\nthe giant.\n\n\"Sit down, and tell me of your wanderings,\" said the monster, with a\nrough voice, into which he tried to throw the semblance of kindness.\n\nChing Chong told him all, only omitting the merchant's story and his\nsecret of the wand.\n\n\"Never mind, boy,\" said the giant, \"you shall win the prize, and go\nback to China a rich man. See, the morning sun is rising. Now we will\nenter the cavern, and you shall have as much gold and precious stones\nas you can carry away.\"\n\nChing Chong felt a momentary thrill of joy in his heart, which was\nsaddened by the memory of the merchant's last words, \"beware of the\ngiant.\"\n\n\"I have wandered in this cold, stranger land for three long years, and\nfound nothing until now.\n\n\"Wealth is within my grasp; if I do not seize it, I may never have\nanother chance! To be poor forever! No! no! I will take the risk.\" Then\nhe spoke aloud, in a resolute voice, \"Lead on, I will follow.\"\n\nThe giant gave the great stone a push with his foot, and rolled it away\nas though it had been a pebble.\n\nAs they entered he struck a torch, then, before proceeding, rolled back\nthe stone and closed up the opening.\n\nWhen Ching Chong saw himself shut into the cave with the giant, he\ntrembled with fear, for he saw there was no way of escape. He felt now,\nhe had only to follow where the monster at will might lead him.\n\nThey went through a long, narrow passage, then down many steps, until\nat last they entered a hall, which was lighted by a large lamp,\nsuspended from the dome of the cavern.\n\nChing Chong was almost blinded by the reflection of the luminous\ncrystals that, with curious prismatic effect, flooded the hall with a\nhundred glowing tints.\n\nGreat masses of gold lay scattered about, and huge seams ran through\nthe rugged sides of the cavern.\n\n\"Is this rich enough for you?\" said the giant, laughingly.\n\n\"Help yourself, lad, you remember I told you you should have all you\ncould carry away.\"\n\nThe delighted Ching Chong began to gather up the gold and precious\nstones into his sack, and when he had secured all he could carry,\nthrowing the sack over his shoulder, he thanked the giant, and begged\nhim to let him go out of the cave.\n\n\"Go on!\" replied the giant, with a mocking laugh. \"You're welcome to\nthe treasure, but I'm thinking you'll find it hard work to move that\nstone from the mouth of the cave.\"\n\nThen Ching Chong threw down the treasure at his feet, crying, with\ntears in his eyes, \"Take back your riches, and let me go out into the\nsunshine! the beautiful sunshine! Oh! good giant, take back your gold,\nand give me my poverty, and my liberty!\"\n\n\"What a pretty actor! go on! go on!\" said the delighted giant, and when\nChing Chong threw himself on his knees before him, wringing his hands\nin silent despair, he laughed till the mountain cavern rung.\n\n\"Do you think I will let you go? You are my slave now! and the\nsunshine! the beautiful sunshine! you shall never see again.\"\n\nChing Chong saw there was no help for him then.\n\nHe spurned the bag of gold and precious stones, pushing it with his\nfoot, as he followed the giant into the inner cave.\n\nThe giant ordered him to build a fire, and prepare supper, and, after\nthe master was served, he was permitted to eat and go to sleep upon\nthe rough but warm skin of a grizzly bear.\n\nWeeks passed by! Still he was a prisoner in the cavern, serving the\ngrim old giant, who was very capricious, and hard to please.\n\nOne evening he came home in great good humor, and, while he ate his\nsupper, he talked and laughed with Ching Chong very pleasantly.\n\nHe told how that day he had given a quantity of gold to some miners.\n\n\"Great luck it will bring them,\" he added.\n\n\"Already they are quarreling over it,\" and a malicious grin disfigured\nhis monstrous face.\n\n\"'Tis such fools as you, boy, who make things lively. Ha! ha! You may\nhave all the gold you can carry away!\n\n\"Why don't you move the stone? Ah! boy, if you had the famous\ndivining-rod, you would only have to touch the rock, and it would obey\nyour wish, but you might as well hope to wake up in your beloved China,\nas to obtain it.\"\n\nHow strangely the words of the giant thrilled the heart of Ching Chong,\nand, pressing his hand against his bosom, the famous divining-rod\nawakened the hopes that in his heart lay sleeping.\n\nIn the excess of his emotion he was obliged to hide his face from the\ngiant, lest he should see his secret written there.\n\nThat night after the loud snoring of the giant announced that he was\nsleeping soundly, Ching Chong rose carefully, and lighting the torch,\ncrept softly out of the large cave, and through the narrow passage that\nled to the entrance.\n\nHe took nothing with him. \"The treasure of the giant is cursed,\" he\nsaid.\n\nWhen he came to the rock he took the divining-rod from his bosom, and,\npressing it lightly against the rock, said: \"Giant rock remove quickly\nat the spell of the divining-rod.\"\n\nQuick as thought the rock moved from its place, and the silver\nmoonlight poured in at the entrance of the cave, and lighted up the\nface of Ching Chong, beaming with the bliss of recovered liberty.\n\nOnce more he touched the rock, saying: \"Move back giant rock at the\nspell of the the divining-rod, and remain forever so firmly fixed that\neven the giant's powerful hand cannot remove you.\"\n\nThe great stone rolled back, striking the ledge with such force that\nthe whole mountain shook, and the mighty echo was reverberated from all\nthe neighboring heights.\n\nThis great commotion aroused the sleeping giant, and he called loudly\nfor Ching Chong, and, when he received no answer, he was very much\nenraged, and searched the whole cavern in every nook and corner. At\nlast he rushed to the entrance, and pushed his broad shoulder against\nthe rock, but he could not move it one inch from its place; then he\nbecame so furious that his voice sounded like the roar of a wild beast,\nbut with all his efforts he could not move the rock. Ching Chong sat\nwithout in the calm moonlight, now and then calling to the giant to\ncome on, and that he was welcome to all the treasure he could bring\nwith him.\n\nAfter a time the giant became so exhausted that he ceased his efforts\nto move the rock, and begged Ching Chong to touch it again with his\nmagic wand, and let him out, promising him all the treasures of the\ncave; but the boy only replied: \"Your turn has come now, keep your\ntreasure, you are welcome to it, and to your underground castle.\"\n\n\"Good-by, kind master, good-by! Come out when you can, and you may have\nall the treasure you can carry.\"\n\nWith this Ching Chong started for his old cabin, but for miles the deep\nhowlings of the giant were wafted to his ears.\n\nHe reached the cabin at sunrise, just five weeks after he left it.\n\nWhen he entered he found his old companions just eating breakfast. They\nwere greatly surprised to see him, for they supposed he had been killed\nby the grizzly bears with which that district abounded.\n\nThey gave him a hearty greeting, and he sat down to breakfast, telling\nthem only the last of his marvelous adventures, omitting the secret of\nthe divining-rod entirely.\n\nWhen he had finished, he asked them what luck they had had.\n\nNothing very good, they replied. Some placer diggings of a little\npromise, but their fortunes were not yet made.\n\nChing Chong went out with them, and entered again upon the hard life of\nprospecting. Many months passed on in the same old way, and again Ching\nChong began to feel very much disheartened. Four years and a half had\ngone, and still he was poor, no nearer the realization of his dreams\nthan ever.\n\nThe intense longing for home was ever gnawing in his heart. He thought\nsadly of the old merchant who awaited his return, and sighed often as\nhe dreamed of the beautiful Ah Zore.\n\nAgain he resolved to follow the guiding of the divining-rod, hoping for\ngreater success than in his former expedition.\n\nAgain he started at nightfall, without saying any thing to his\ncompanions.\n\nHe had provided himself with a sack of food, which he carried, with his\npick and shovel, upon his shoulders.\n\nHe was young, healthy, and accustomed to the hardships of a mountain\nlife.\n\nFor hours he walked on as the divining-rod guided him, until near\nmorning, when, overcome with fatigue, he threw himself upon the ground\namong the thick sage brush, and soon fell asleep.\n\nA thousand golden imaginings mingled with his dreams, and, when he\nawoke with the sunshine pouring its flood of warmth and light upon him,\nhe rose full of bright hopes, ate his scanty breakfast, and started\nupon his way with a happy heart.\n\nThus he wandered on for several days, carefully examining every ledge\nof rocks that he passed over.\n\nHis stock of food was nearly exhausted. The divining-rod and his\nhopeful nature urged him on, but his dread of a lonely death in the\nmountains warned him to return.\n\nOne night he struck a fire in a lonely place, and sat down to eat his\nsupper, just as the twilight gave place to the stars of night.\n\nHe was getting quite disheartened. \"I must start for the camp in the\nmorning,\" he said to himself, \"'Tis no use of trying any longer.\"\n\nHe fell into a sad train of musing, from which he was aroused by the\nsoft tinkling of a silver bell, and looking up he saw before him the\ndwarf Chinaman.\n\nHe wore the round hat, blue blouse, big pants, and pointed shoes of the\nCelestials, and his words fell upon Ching Chong's ear in the language\nof his native tongue. His face was wrinkled and sad-looking, yet there\nwas a kindliness in its expression, and Ching Chong's heart warmed as\nhe pleasantly asked, \"Why so sorrowful to-night, my boy?\"\n\nThen Ching Chong told his story.\n\nWhen he had finished the dwarf said: \"Be thankful that you did not\nattempt to carry away any of the treasure.\"\n\n\"If you had taken but one ounce of gold the wand would have lost its\npower in your hand, and you would have been the slave of the giant as\nlong as you lived, and after death your bones would have whitened the\nfloor of the mountain cavern, instead of reposing in the dear native\nland.\"\n\n\"Your industry and perseverance shall now be rewarded. Lie down and\nsleep to-night upon this soft turf. In the morning rise and follow the\ndirection of the divining-rod, and where it points downward strike your\npick.\"\n\n\"Now good-night, my boy. In the days of your prosperity, sometimes\nthink kindly of the poor dwarf of the mountains.\"\n\nBefore Ching Chong could reply, he found himself alone, and though he\nlooked round carefully, he could not discover where, or how the dwarf\nhad disappeared. So he lay down, and was soon sleeping soundly.\n\nIn the morning he rose early, and following the direction of his wand,\nstopped where it pointed downward, and striking a blow with his pick,\nturned up a beautiful pure nugget of gold.\n\nHe marked the spot, and collecting a few specimens, returned to the\ncamp.\n\nAgain his companions surrounded him to hear his story.\n\nNo one but the poor, toiling miner can understand the excitement and\ndelight of the weary prospectors, as they listened to him, and examined\nhis specimens.\n\n\"Now, boys,\" said Ching Chong, \"you have been the sharers of my bad\nluck, and you shall share my good fortune.\"\n\n\"There is gold enough for all.\"\n\nThen the happy miners all shook hands with Ching Chong, saying a hearty\n\"God bless you, boy,\" while the tears glistened in their eyes, as they\nthought of the dear ones in distant lands.\n\nThat night they all dreamed golden dreams, full of love and happiness.\n\nIn the morning they all went together to the newly discovered treasure,\nwhich proved to be a large tract of the richest placer-diggings ever\nknown.\n\nIn six months they were all rich men, and left the mountains for their\ndifferent homes, blessing forever Ching Chong Chinaman.\n\nAbout that time a good ship sailed for China, and on the deck sat the\nhappy Ching Chong, and all his great wealth was on board.\n\nAfter a prosperous voyage, he reached his dear, native land, and\nwas able to give his friend the merchant, an account of himself, so\nsatisfactory that he rewarded him with the hand of his daughter, the\nbeautiful Ah Zore, and in all Hong Kong there could not be found a\nhappier man than Ching Chong Chinaman.\n\n\n\n\nZALETTA.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in a little cane hut on the borders of a\nhacienda, a poor old Mexican woman and her grandchild.\n\nThe parents of the little one were both dead, and the old woman\nmaintained herself and the child by spinning, sewing, and washing for\nthe rich Spaniards, to whom all the fine houses and cultivated lands of\nthe country belonged.\n\nThe mother of the child had been a beautiful se\u00f1orita of good family.\nShe foolishly loved and married the poor but light-hearted Mexican, who\nwould have given his life for her, but could not shield her from the\nmisfortunes which poverty and sickness brought upon them.\n\nAfter the birth of her little daughter, she died, and very soon the\nfather was lost in a fearful storm at sea; so the child was left\nalone in the world, with none to care for her but the silver-haired\ngrandmother, and no home but the little cane hut.\n\nFor some years every thing went pleasantly with the child; she had\nnever known luxury, her necessities were supplied, she returned the\nfond devotion of the old grandmother, with the ardor of her Southern\nnature; and, all day long, her innocent voice, full of childish\nhappiness, woke cheerful echoes around the little hut.\n\nOne night, when she was about ten years old, the old woman fell sick.\nShe felt the dim shadows creeping over her spirit, and her strength\ngrowing less; and calling the child to her side, she said, feebly: \"I\nhave nothing but a well-worn distaff and the poor hut to give you.\nThe Holy Virgin pity and protect you; you have been a good child to\nyour old grandmother.\" Then she kissed her, and blessing her, bade her\ngood-night, adding: \"Never forget to say your prayers before you go to\nsleep. God bless you, my poor, poor child.\"\n\nThe grandmother turned her face to the wall, and folded her thin hands\nas if in prayer, and Zaletta crept softly into bed beside her, feeling\nvery sad; but soon her innocent heart was happy, roaming through the\npleasant land of dreams. In the morning, Zaletta slept till the sun\nrose above the hills, and cast its glowing warmth down into the shaded\nvalleys, then woke full of life and joyousness.\n\nThere lay the grandmother just as she had last seen her the night\nbefore. \"She sleeps long this morning, the dear old grandmother,\"\nsaid she to herself, as she moved round quietly, preparing the scanty\nbreakfast.\n\nWhen it was all ready, she became impatient, and laid her little warm\nhand upon the old woman's arm. Cold, very cold, the poor child found\nher, and motionless. She would never move again.\n\nZaletta called her, sobbing and weeping, but there was no reply. The\nheart so ready to sympathize with all her childish sorrows was at rest.\nThe old grandmother had died, praying for the little lonely child, who\nhad been dearer than all the world to her.\n\nThe next day the people from the hacienda came and buried the old\nwoman. After the last sod was cast upon the grave, the innkeeper's wife\ntook the child by the hand, saying: \"Poor little thing, she can not\nstay here alone, I will take her home with me;\" and she smoothed the\ntangled hair of the helpless orphan with her hand, and in her harder\nheart she thought, \"By and by this girl may be made of great service to\nme, and even now I'll see that she earns all that she eats and wears.\"\n\nShe was very careful to take to the inn with her, all the poor little\nhut contained. \"'Tis but little,\" she said, \"but I'll take it for the\nchild.\" All the neighbors said it was kind in the innkeeper's wife, and\nthe rich se\u00f1or, to whom the whole hacienda belonged, gave her a shining\ngold-piece, saying: \"'Tis for your charity.\"\n\nThe cold-hearted woman went home, leading by the hand a little weeping\nchild, very desolate and sorrowful.\n\nThe innkeeper was naturally a kind man, but he had become too indolent\nand corpulent to resist the strong will of his termagant wife. \"When he\nsaw the sad-eyed little one that she had brought home, he brushed away\na tear with his big brown hand, and determined to save the unfortunate\nfrom all trouble, as much as he could; but when he thought of his\nwife's cruel disposition, he earnestly wished her in other hands.\n\n\"Poor little thing! poor little thing!\" he said, pityingly, and calling\nhis own little boy and girl to him, he placed her trembling hands in\ntheirs, adding: \"Here is a sister for you, be kind to her, my children.\"\n\nThe daughter drew her hand away, and curled her lip in scorn. She was\nlike her mother, proud and cold in her nature, and, looking at the\ncoarse clothes of the child, she said: \"Ah, no, papa, she is only fit\nfor a servant. Sister, indeed!\" and she shook the skirts of her pretty\nmuslin dress, and ran away.\n\nThe boy felt the manhood dawning in his heart, as he saw the tears\nglistening in the pretty dark eyes of the silent child, and the little\nred lips quivered with suppressed emotion.\n\n\"She shall be my sister, papa,\" said he, softly, as he took her by the\nhand, and led her out in the clear sunshine. Children understand each\nother best, thought the old man, as he sat watching them, while they\nwalked up and down the garden together, talking pleasantly.\n\nSoon the mother's sharp eye detected them, and with a harsh voice she\nbade the little girl haste to the kitchen, and see if she could not\nhelp the cook prepare the supper.\n\nThen she called the young Guilerme to her, saying: \"I hope to make a\nrich se\u00f1or of you, my son, though your father is only an innkeeper. We\nare making money, and every year increases our gains. There is good\nblood in my veins, and I am determined to raise my children above my\npresent condition. For this I save every thing. Every thing! For we\nmust have money; but remember, my son, I would not have you notice that\nmiserable girl I have brought here for a servant; by and by she may do\nfor your sister's maid; now she is the kitchen scullion.\"\n\nThus began the days of servitude and sorrow for the young Zaletta.\n\nThe inn was a spacious adobe house, with an open court in the center,\nand surrounded on all sides by a broad piazza. The kitchen and\nstore-rooms were upon one side, while the receiving and sleeping rooms\nwere on the other sides of the square.\n\nThe hacienda was in the southern part of California, where though\nthe warmth of the days produces many kinds of tropical fruits, the\nevenings are often quite chilly, and the excessive heat of the noon-day\nrenders all very susceptible to cold. In the large receiving-room (with\nthe bar at one side), on such nights, a cheerful fire always burned,\nand there all the guests of the house assembled, and talked over the\nnews of the day. Sometimes 'twas of the discovery of a rich gold mine,\nbut often 'twas of a fearful robbery in the wood.\n\nAfter all the work was done in the kitchen, Zaletta would steal\nsilently into the receiving-room, listening to the conversation, and\nwarming her chilled feet and hands before going to her miserable bed in\nthe out-house.\n\nThis did not please the se\u00f1ora. It did not look respectable to have the\nmiserable child about, she would say; but in this the innkeeper was\nresolute. \"The little one should warm herself before going to bed.\" So\nZaletta came in at evenings, but very quietly.\n\nGuilerme was always kind to her; indeed never a day passed but\nsomething nice found its way to the hiding-place in the out-house, so\nthat the child was never hungry.\n\nHe brought her the ripest bananas, and the sweetest oranges, and when\nshe would look up to him, with her soft eyes dewy with love and thanks,\nhe would kiss her brown cheek, and say: \"Never mind, little one, you\nshall be _se\u00f1ora_ one of these days.\" Then they would laugh and be\nhappy, till the mother's sharp voice would ring through the house,\ncalling the unfortunate to some new task.\n\nThe sister was changeful in her treatment to Zaletta. Sometimes she\nwould call her pleasantly to come and play with her, but very soon\nshe would become angry and strike her, calling her \"only a pitiful\nservant.\" Then the mother would whip Zaletta for making her little\nmistress angry. The father and Guilerme always took her part, making\nthe mother more displeased than ever.\n\nOne day, when Guilerme was about fourteen years old, and the girls\nwere twelve, the mother called the boy to her, telling him in two\nweeks a vessel would sail from the nearest sea-port for the Atlantic\nStates, and that, he must be ready to take passage in her, for she\nhad determined to send him to New York to school. \"Your father is now\nrich,\" she said, \"and you must be educated like other rich men's sons.\"\n\nPoor little Zaletta! What a blow it was to her. Her best friend going\naway so far over the waters. When he told her the morning before he\nsailed what his mother had said, her pretty dark eyes filled with\ntears, and she sobbed bitterly.\n\n\"Listen to me,\" said the boy, soothingly; \"I have something to tell\nyou, and must be quick, or mamma will call me before I can finish. You\nknow I am going away to be educated like a gentleman, and shall want\na lady for my wife; so you must study hard to become one, for I am\ndetermined to marry you as soon as I come back. I have taught you to\nread, and you will find all my books in the hiding-place, where I have\nleft them for you, and you must study hard and see how beautiful you\ncan grow while I am gone, for I shall make you the greatest lady in\nthe hacienda;\" and he took the little eager face between his hands and\nkissed it with much affection. Just then the mother called, \"Guilerme!\nGuilerme!\" so he kissed her again, and said, \"remember, my little\nwife,\" and was off in a moment.\n\nThat night Zaletta wept herself to sleep, and many succeeding nights;\nbut she did not forget to study very hard, and though she labored under\ngreat difficulties, her progress was wonderful. She was working for the\napproval of the only one that loved her since the dear silver-haired\ngrandmother died. After Guilerme went away the se\u00f1ora took Zaletta into\nthe house as maid for her young daughter, who every day was growing\nmore proud and selfish.\n\nFor some years the innkeeper had been greatly prospered. The family had\nused economy in all things until they had amassed considerable wealth.\n\n\"Now,\" said the se\u00f1ora, \"the children are growing up, and we must not\nspare the money\u2014they must have position.\" She engaged a governess to\nteach her daughter, and a master to give her lessons on the harp and\nguitar.\n\nZaletta always sat in the room with the young se\u00f1orita, and listened\neagerly to every word the teachers uttered, though her hands were busy\nwith her needle.\n\nEvery day she grew in knowledge and beauty. Her dark eyes were soft as\na fawn's, and her pure olive cheek glowed with a clear rose-tint, while\nher form and features were cast in beauty's most exquisite mold. Both\nmother and daughter were often cruelly unkind to her, more especially\nwhen they saw that her beauty, and innocent sweetness of manner,\nattracted more attention than all the young se\u00f1orita's fine clothes\nand accomplishments. The se\u00f1orita was pretty and full of airs and\ngraces, but Zaletta, in her coarse dress, was far more lovely. Every\nday increased the envy of the mother and daughter, and new and harder\ntasks were invented for the weary little hands to perform.\n\nOne sultry afternoon all three sat upon the piazza of the inner court.\nA ship had arrived from New York, with letters from Guilerme, and a\nlarge box, filled with beautiful fabrics for dresses, shawls, and\nornaments, for the mother and daughter; but Zaletta received nothing,\nnot even a word of kind remembrance.\n\nAll the long night before she had wept. Guilerme, the gentleman, had\nforgotten the poor maid; but she, alas! remembered him too well.\n\nThe mother and daughter sat looking over their treasures with great\ndelight, and for the time she was unnoticed. Stitching away upon a\nbeautiful organdie muslin, at last overcome by fatigue, loss of sleep,\nand the excessive heat, she fell asleep, and in her dreams she called\nout in a piteous tone, \"Guilerme! Guilerme!\" and the tears ran down her\npale cheeks.\n\n\"What is she saying?\" said the mother. She rose and looked at her, and\nagain she called, \"Guilerme! Guilerme!\"\n\n\"Hear her, mamma,\" exclaimed the enraged daughter, \"I'll give her a\nlesson for her impertinence,\" and she raised her hand to strike the\nsleeping girl.\n\n\"Stop, daughter,\" said the mother, softly, with a malicious smile, \"we\ncan do better. The foolish Guilerme has sent her a letter and presents\nof books. The letter I have burned. The books you can do as you like\nwith, but I have a present for la se\u00f1orita, she will not like, perhaps.\"\n\nShe shook the young girl roughly by the arm, saying, \"What, sleeping\nover your work. Wake, and hear what Guilerme says. He sends you this!\"\n\nThe se\u00f1ora held out to the young girl a coarse apron, such as the lower\nservants wore. \"He hopes his sister will train you to be a good servant\nfor you must know he is in love with a rich and beautiful se\u00f1orita,\nand though they are both young now, it is thought best for them to be\nmarried before his return, which will be in about two years.\"\n\n\"Mamma, what is the matter with her? How pale she looks!\" cried the\naffrighted daughter, as Zaletta with closed eyes sank fainting upon the\nfloor.\n\n\"She has fainted, the miserable beggar. To try to creep into my family,\nand to think that foolish boy should talk of love to her. I'll fix them\nboth,\" and in her anger the se\u00f1ora and her daughter left Zaletta lying\ncold and pale upon the floor.\n\nEvening came on, with the calm, silver light of the stars, before\nZaletta recovered. At first she could not remember what had happened,\nand then it all rushed upon her, a mighty flood of sorrow.\n\n\"Guilerme has forgotten me! I remember now: this apron for the servant\nof his bride. Ah! Guilerme! Guilerme!\" Wrapping the apron about her\nneck, she rushed out into the night. \"I cannot stay in this house\nanother night. It will kill me!\" she said, and she hurried on as though\nshe could fly from her great sorrow.\n\nAt last she came to a deep wood, and, after wandering about till\nher wearied limbs refused to carry her any further, she saw a light\nglimmering through the trees, and pressing on she came to a little\ncottage.\n\nLooking in at the window she saw an old woman at her distaff spinning.\nThe faggots upon the hearth burned brightly, and lighted up the little\nroom, but especially the face of the old woman shone with the glow\nof a kind heart. Timidly she knocked at the door, but there was no\nreply. Then she knocked again louder, and the old woman called out in a\ncracked voice: \"Who knocks at my door so late in the night!\"\n\n\"Only a poor maiden, who has no home, no friend on earth. I pray you,\ngood woman, let me in. The night is cold, and the starlight chills me.\nI am so tired! so tired! Good mother, let me in!\"\n\nThe old woman opened the door and led her in. She sat down in the\ncorner, gazing silently into the fire and wondering why the good Lord\nin pity did not let her die; and big tears ran down her pale cheeks.\n\nThe old woman baked a fresh tortilla and gave it to her with a cup of\nmilk.\n\n\"Eat, child,\" she said gently, \"you are hungry,\" and she laid her hand\non the bowed head, saying again: \"There! there! eat, child! and sleep\naway the sorrow of youth which is fleeting as the dew of morning.\"\n\nThen she turned away and commenced spinning and singing in a low,\nmonotonous tone, which was strangely soothing, while Zaletta ate\nher supper, and soon the sad, weary maiden fell asleep by the warm,\npleasant fireside.\n\nFor some time the old woman went on spinning and singing, till another\nknock came at the door, and again she said: \"Who knocks at my door so\nlate in the night?\" \"'Tis I, mother,\" replied a thick, rough voice.\nShe opened the door to a most curious looking dwarf. He was round\nshouldered and thick set, with heavy, black hair covering his forehead,\nand shaggy brows meeting over his eyes.\n\n\"How fared thee, to-day, son?\"\n\n\"I haven't struck the lode yet, mother,\" said the dwarf, cheerfully,\n\"but I am sure the mine is rich. See what I have picked up among the\nloose rocks!\"\n\nHe handed her a small nugget of gold, almost pure, and turned to the\ncorner to put down his pick and shovel. \"But who have we here? A young\ngirl, and very pretty,\" he added, looking admiringly upon the sleeping\nmaiden.\n\n\"Only a poor friendless child, who came to the door a little while ago,\nweeping and asking shelter,\" answered the woman.\n\n\"Treat her kindly, mother; she will be company for you, and by-and-by I\nmay marry her, but I have no time to think of women now.\"\n\nThe dwarf sat down to the hot supper the mother had prepared for him,\nand ate heartily, for he was very hungry. Then he drew his chair near\nthe fire, and sat for sometime looking dreamily into its glowing\nembers.\n\n\"I must strike the lode soon,\" he mused. \"Oh, my rich gold mine; it\nmust come at last.\" Then he rose, saying, kindly, \"Good night, mother,\"\nand climbed up into the little loft, where in a few minutes he was\nsleeping soundly.\n\nThe old woman woke Zaletta, and they retired for the night, sleeping in\nthe same bed.\n\nIn the morning Zaletta was awakened by a kind voice calling, \"Get up\nnow, daughter, and help me to prepare my son's breakfast, he has been\nat work for an hour, and will soon come in very hungry.\"\n\nZaletta rose quickly and helped to prepare a breakfast of fresh\ntortillas nicely browned, fried plantain, and venison, which, with\nplenty of ripe fruit and goat's milk, made a repast fit for a prince.\n\nSoon the dwarf came in, so smiling and cheerful, that though Zaletta\nthought him the ugliest looking person she ever saw, she felt sure\nhis heart was in the right place. \"You are welcome, my pretty girl,\"\nhe said, \"but don't mind me; I've no time to compliment women, though\nby-and-by, when I strike a rich lode, I may marry you.\"\n\nZaletta's face flushed a deep crimson, and she looked as though that\nwould be any thing but desirable; but she made no reply, and in a\nmoment the dwarf seemed to have forgotten her presence, and she became\nmore comfortable.\n\nTwo years passed by and Zaletta remained at the cottage, helping the\nold mother, who was very fond of her, and reading books with which the\ndwarf kept her constantly supplied. All this time he was working hard\nin his mine, but could not \"strike the rich lode.\" Sometimes he grew\nquite disheartened, then he would be joyous and hopeful, and would say\nto Zaletta: \"Though I have no time to think of women now, by-and-by,\nwhen I am rich, I will marry you.\" She soon got used to this, and only\nlaughed, for he was always very kind to her, and she learned to look\nupon him as a brother.\n\nOne dark night in the rainy season she and the mother sat by the fire\nwaiting for the dwarf to come in to his supper. The old woman was\nspinning, and Zaletta reading a pleasant book of travels.\n\n\"My poor boy,\" sighed the old mother. \"How it rains; he will be wet\nthrough. Oh, dear! I fear he will never be able to strike the rich\nlode.\" Just then a loud knock came at the door. \"Who knocks at my door\nso late in the night,\" said the old woman.\n\nA voice, young, strong, and pure, answered, sending all the warm blood\nfrom Zaletta's heart to her face: \"A stranger, belated and lost in the\nwood, begs for shelter from the storm.\"\n\nThe old woman opened the door, and Guilerme\u2014dear, handsome Guilerme,\ndripping with rain, and very cold, entered.\n\nZaletta's book dropped upon the floor, and her tongue refused her heart\nutterance, but Guilerme's eyes rested upon the beautiful girl with\ndelighted surprise.\n\n\"Found at last, my own Zaletta.\" His arms opened, and the trembling,\nlonely heart of the maiden found its true resting-place.\n\nThey sat down side by side, hand clasping hand, and explained all the\npast to each other, how Guilerme had written and received no answer,\nand at last returned to find her gone, and his heart desolate.\n\nZaletta told him all she had suffered, and of the kindness she had\nreceived at the cottage. Then Guilerme took the old woman's hands and\nthanked her with a voice trembling with emotion.\n\nThe mother rejoiced with them, but there mingled a sorrow for her son\nwith the joy. \"Poor son,\" she thought, \"He is very fond of the child.\"\n\nSoon another knock came, and again the old woman asked, \"Who knocks at\nmy door so late in the night,\" and the dwarf answered:\u2014\n\n\"Mother! mother! I've struck the lode at last.\"\n\nShe opened the door, and he threw his arms round her neck and kissed\nher, then he came in, and saw Guilerme; and they both told their\nstories.\n\n\"So,\" said the dwarf, when Guilerme had finished: \"You have come to\ntake my pretty maid away? Well, if she loves you, 'tis all right, I\nhave had no time to think of women; but, somehow, I have grown fond of\nher,\" and he sighed heavily. \"I have struck the lode at last. I am a\nrich man, but I must find some one to share my good fortune with me,\nsome pure, good little girl like our Zaletta.\"\n\nIn the morning, when Guilerme and the dwarf went to the mine together,\nthey found it even richer than the dwarf had thought it, the night\nbefore. Guilerme offered to furnish the money to build a mill to crush\nthe ore, for one-half the mine; and so they became partners.\n\nSoon after this, Guilerme and Zaletta were married at the cottage in\nthe wood, and in time the good dwarf was united to a pretty Mexican\nlass, who made him very happy.\n\nAfter a time, Guilerme built a fine house for his wife, and, when they\nhad two little children, he took his family home to the old hacienda.\n\nThe mother and sister did not recognize their old servant in Guilerme's\nbrilliant se\u00f1ora, but the old father (God bless him) knew her, when she\nplaced her little soft hand in his, and kissed him; and very dearly he\nlearned to love his dutiful daughter.\n\nSo they were all rich and happy, as long as it pleased God to spare\ntheir lives.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STRONG MAN OF SANTA BARBARA.\n\n\nMany years ago, in the old Spanish mission of Santa Barbara, lived an\nold Mexican, named Joza Silva, with his wife and child, in a little\nadobe house, containing but one room.\n\nThere was a small window, rudely latticed with unplaned laths, and a\ndoor opening upon a pleasant view of the golden-sanded beach and the\nrestless waves of the ocean.\n\nAt that time, the Spaniards, Mexicans, and Indians were the only\ninhabitants of the country.\n\nOver these people, the padres, who established the mission, had\nacquired a most unlimited sway, ruling them more completely than even\nthe Pope his subjects of the Holy See of Rome.\n\nThe Mexicans are an indolent race. The luxurious climate of Santa\nBarbara is not favorable to the development of latent energy in\nany people, least of all to the inert Mexicans; yet the padres,\nby awakening their superstitious fears, made them work until the\nwilderness became a vineyard, and the golden orange glowed amid the\nleaves of the fragrant trees.\n\nPoor Joza disliked any exertion, and, if left to his own inclination,\nwould have lived on the spontaneous productions of that almost tropical\nclimate, and been happy after his oyster fashion.\n\nOften he obeyed very reluctantly, those whom he thought had power, not\nonly over the body, but could doom his soul to unnumbered years of\nsuffering, in the fearful fires of purgatory.\n\nThe padres lived in great ease and comfort; though so far from the\nelegances of the great world, their own ingenuity and the rapid growth\nof the country, furnished them with many luxuries.\n\nTheir quaint adobe houses were very pleasant, built after the Spanish\nstyle, in the form of a square with an open court in the center.\n\nBeautiful gardens flourished around them, in which grew the fragrant\ncitron, the lemon, with its shining leaves, and nearly all the rare\nfruits and flowers of the tropics.\n\nFor some years, Joza labored in the vineyards and gardens; but the\nambitious padres were planning a greater work. A new church was to be\nbuilt, and elaborately ornamented; a convent and college was planned;\nextensive grounds to be laid out and cultivated, and all to be\nsurrounded by the enduring adobe wall of mud and stones.\n\nOne evening, after a weary day in the vineyard, just as Joza was about\nstarting for home, padre Antonio called him.\n\n\"On the morrow,\" he said, \"we will begin to lay the foundation of the\nnew church, the Grand San Pedro; you shall be permitted to aid in the\nblessed work, by carrying stones and mortar, for which great mercy\nthank the holy Mother and all the saints, especially the blessed San\nPedro, who is the patron saint of this great enterprise.\"\n\nThen the padre blessed him, and wandered off into the delicious shade\nof the garden.\n\nIn the gathering gloom of the twilight, Joza returned to his cottage,\nmore disheartened than ever, wondering how much more torturing the\nfires of purgatory could be, than carrying stones under the burning sun\nof Santa Barbara.\n\nAs he approached his cottage, he saw his wife sitting before the door\nwith a stranger, both smoking, with the greatest apparent enjoyment.\n\nHis son, and a large dog, were rolling about on the soft earth, near\nthem, raising a cloud of dust, and making a great noise, which seemed\nto disturb no one, and to afford them much pleasure.\n\nWhen Joza came up, his wife introduced the stranger as his old\nplaymate, and her brother Schio, who, many years before, had gone away,\nand, until that evening, had never been heard from.\n\nJoza welcomed his old friend in the cordial Spanish way, placing his\nhouse at his disposal.\n\nFor a short time, in pleasant memories of their boyhood, he forgot the\nweary present. After they had eaten their frugal supper, and were again\nseated in the vine-clad doorway, Joza looked out upon the great ocean,\ndusky with the shadows of evening, growing sad and silent.\n\n\"What ails thee, brother,\" said Schio, in his clear, ringing voice,\nthat sounded like the strong notes of a clarionet. \"You are changed;\nyou are growing old, but see me, I am as young in heart as your boy,\nand strong as a bullock.\"\n\nHe lifted a great stone that lay near him, and held it at arms' length,\nlaughing loudly, till the caves of the ocean sent back a hundred echoes.\n\nWith many sighs, Joza told the story of his troubles; how, for years,\ntill his back had grown old and stiff, he had worked in the vineyard of\nthe padre, but the purple harvest had brought no blessing to him.\n\nHow a harder task was to be laid upon him. He was to hew and carry the\nheavy foundation-stones of the Grand San Pedro, and even at the thought\nof so great labor, the beaded sweat rolled down his forehead.\n\nHis sympathizing wife sobbed aloud, but the brother only laughed, till\nagain he woke the mysterious voices of the ocean caves.\n\nHalf angry, Joza turned to Schio, saying: \"'Tis all very well for you,\nSchio, to laugh; you who roam at will in the cool of the evening, and\nrest in the delightful shade, while the scorching sunshine is burning\nmy life out.\"\n\nPoor Joza buried his face in his hands and sighed wearily.\n\n\"Cheer up, brother,\" said Schio, pleasantly. \"Listen to me. Go in the\nmorning, to padre Antonio, and tell him you are getting old and feeble,\nand cannot work through the heat of the day, but if he will appoint\nyour task, you will accomplish it after the burning sun has gone down.\n\n\"Tell him if you carry those large stones in the day, your life will\nbe consumed like the burning candles before the altar; but that in the\ncool of the evening, your strength returns as in the days of youth.\"\n\n\"And what, then?\" said Joza, wearily.\n\n\"I will see that the morning finds your task accomplished,\" replied\nSchio.\n\nThat night Joza dreamed that his tasks were ended, and that all day\nlong he luxuriated in most delicious ease, under the shade of olive\ntrees, and, when he woke, his heart grew sad, that it was only a dream.\n\nHe rose in haste to go to his task, for he had overslept himself; then\nhe thought of Schio's advice. \"I will do as he told me, though I fear\n'twill do no good,\" thought he. \"I can but fail, and who knows what\nmay come.\n\n\"Schio is such a strange fellow; when he's talking, it seems as though\na hundred voices rung changes on his words. God grant he's not in\nleague with the devil.\"\n\nJoza crossed himself, and muttered prayers most devoutly until he\nreached the house of the padre Antonio.\n\nAfter he had told the padre all Schio had directed, his task was\nappointed, and he returned home, all day long resting in the shade of\nhis favorite lime-tree, smoking his cigarett\u00e9s, and was happy as only\na careless, indolent Mexican could be, enjoying the luxury of complete\nrepose.\n\nToward evening he began to be a little uneasy, but with the dewy\ntwilight, came Schio, waking the mysterious echoes, with his ringing\nlaughter, and, as the darkness deepened, he placed a lantern in Joza's\nhand, saying: \"Now, brother, we will go to the task you complain of so\nbitterly.\"\n\nSilently they pursued their way, until they arrived at the huge pile,\nupon which the padre had appointed Joza to begin his work.\n\nMany days would have passed before he could have hewn the rock as the\npadre desired, but, with one blow of an immense drill, in Schio's\npowerful hand, the rock was cleft in twain. As he reduced it to its\nproper size and shape, Joza stood by, trembling with fear; then pointed\nout the chosen spot, and, in silence and darkness, the first stone of\nthe Grand San Pedro was laid.\n\nWhen the full moon arose, clear and bright, shedding its floods of\ngolden light over the mission of Santa Barbara, and the blue waves\nthat washed its sanded shore, the laborers had gone\u2014Joza, to sleep\npeacefully in his little cottage, and Schio, down to the echoing\ncaverns by the sounding sea.\n\nMorning came, gorgeous with sunshine and beauty, and the padre walked\nout to inspect the site of his ambitious dreams.\n\nHe was an avaricious and unscrupulous man.\n\nIn building this new church, he hoped to erect a tower of strength and\ngreatness for himself, more than an edifice in which to worship the\nblessed Christ, the immaculate Virgin, and the holy saints.\n\nWhen he saw the huge foundation-stone that Schio had laid, he was\ngreatly amazed.\n\nEven the hewing of it, he knew to be the work of days, and there it\nwas, cleanly cleft, and in its proper place.\n\n\"There is a mystery here,\" he said; \"the people will believe it a\nmiracle; be it as it will, I must make the most of it.\"\n\nHe called Joza, who came to him smiling and happy.\n\n\"You have done well for the beginning,\" said the padre, \"but to-night,\nyou must lay two stones like this.\"\n\n\"Holy San Pedro, help me!\" exclaimed Joza. \"It is impossible!\" and he\nturned away, very sorrowful.\n\nAt night he told Schio what the padre had said. Schio frowned, and\nanswered, \"The padre should not ask too much; but this shall be as he\ndesires.\"\n\nAgain they went out in the twilight, and before the rising of the\ngolden moon, two more foundation-stones were laid.\n\nAt daybreak the padre arose, and hastened to see if the task had been\naccomplished, and before his wondering eyes, lay the three immense\nfoundation-stones, smooth, and in their proper places.\n\n\"Holy Virgin! I will give him enough to-night,\" exclaimed the amazed\npadre, and again the task was doubled.\n\nThus it went on, night after night, and week after week, till the Grand\nSan Pedro began to rise up like Aladdin's wonderful palace, but, Schio,\nthe man of iron, grew very angry, as the full moon arose upon him,\nbending over his unfinished task.\n\n\"Joza,\" said he, \"the padre may go too far for even Schio to bear; bid\nhim beware!\n\n\"If the morning sun finds me here, I will not answer for the result;\ntoo much pressure will burst open the hidden recesses of earth, and\ncause the caverns of ocean to resound with fearful echoes of mystery.\n\n\"Can he think San Pedro will bless avarice and oppression, even in the\npadre Antonio?\"\n\nIn the morning Joza went to the padre, and entreated him to lessen the\ntask, but he only laughed, and said: \"You are getting fat and lazy. I\nwill not double your work to-night, but you shall do four times as much\nas ever, and I will be there to see it accomplished.\"\n\nJoza departed with a heavy heart, dreading to meet Schio; and when he\ntold him in the evening, he made no reply, but a black frown covered\nhis whole face, and his eyes shot fire.\n\nThat night the padre Antonio went out to watch Joza, and when he saw\nSchio cleaving the huge stones with one blow of his wonderful drill, he\nthought he had not imposed task enough, and resolved he would command\nhim to finish the Grand San Pedro in one night.\n\nJust after midnight the moon arose, and the startled Joza heard, at\nevery blow of the drill, a hundred echoes ring out from the ocean\ncaverns. But Schio worked steadily on.\n\n\"Schio,\" said Joza, suddenly, \"what is it makes these mournings from\nthe sea caves?\" But Schio only answered by a heavier blow from his\nhammer, and under their feet the ground shook violently, then opened,\nand, where the Grand San Pedro should have stood, yawned a great\ngulf, that closed upon the labor of many nights; and with the great\nfoundation-stones went down the ambitious padre.\n\nThe morning sun rose on a scene of great desolation, but only Joza was\nthere, with trembling voice, to tell the tale of the padre Antonio and\nthe Grand San Pedro.\n\nWhen others spoke of the great earth quake, he said: \"'Twas all Schio's\ndoings.\n\n\"The padre would never be satisfied, and the man of iron grew so angry,\nthat he struck the great stone from the heart of the mountain, and\nthen the earth shook, opened, and swallowed up the padre Antonio and\nthe Grand San Pedro.\"\n\nSchio was never afterward seen at the mission of Santa Barbara, but\noften, at evening, his ringing voice was wafted along the shore, from\nthe cave of echoes, down by the sea.\n\n\n\n\nJUNG-FRAU MALEEN.\n\n\nIn a small village upon the shore of the German Ocean lived a man whose\nwife had golden tresses so long and heavy that when they were unbound\nthey covered her like a cloak of sunbeams, and reached to her feet. Her\ncomplexion was so fair, and her eyes so beautiful, that her equal was\nnot to be found in all the Fatherland.\n\nAt last she fell sick and died, leaving her husband all alone in the\nworld, except one wee baby, who lay sleeping in the cradle. At first\nthe father was heart-broken, and noticed nothing, but after a time\nall his love turned to the helpless infant, who every day grew more\nlovely, and at last became as fair as her mother, with the same wealth\nof golden hair and soft violet eyes, and all the Fatherland, from far\nand near, was filled with the story of her great beauty.\n\nWhen she was only a little maid, she would go down to the sea-shore\nand dance upon the sand, until her light straw hat would drop from her\nhead, and her waving tresses fall about her like a shower of pure gold,\nand her violet eyes beam with the brightness of stars, while the flush\nupon her cheeks rivaled the soft, fresh bloom of the peach.\n\nThe maiden was called the fair Jung-frau Maleen, as she grew older\nand every day added to her charms, till half the young men in the\ncountry were ready to lay down their life for her; but though her ways\nwere winning, and she had a pleasant smile for all, no one could be\nfamiliar with her. In her guileless innocence and beauty she seemed\na great way out of their reach, yet she danced with them, talked and\nlaughed with them, till her clear, sweet voice rang out upon the air\nlike the soft notes of a silver bell, but when she turned away, they\nfelt that she had gone from them forever.\n\nAmong her lovers was a bashful student named Handsel, who worshiped the\nJung-frau Maleen with all the devotion of his great noble heart, but\never at a distance.\n\nHe seldom spoke to her.\n\nEven the rustle of her dress as she passed along would set his heart to\nbeating wildly, and the sound of her voice, or one glance of her violet\neye would send the hot blood rushing through his veins, dyeing his face\nand neck a deep crimson. Poor Handsel!\n\nHe would say to his heart, \"Down, fool, the star of heaven is not for\nyou, look for some lovely flower of earth,\" but in all the Fatherland\nhe knew there was not another maiden who could satisfy the hunger of\nhis heart.\n\nAt all the village festivals he looked on in the distance, and saw\nothers worship at the shrine he dared not approach. \"I have nothing\nworth offering her,\" he would say, and so he was silent.\n\nHe was handsome and manly, and Maleen always looked for him in the\ncrowd, and when she saw him standing far apart with his large dark eyes\nfixed upon her, she was more content than in his absence. If she had\nquestioned her heart for the reason of this she would have blushed with\nconfusion, for Jung-frau Maleen was not one who would willingly yield\nher heart unsought.\n\nMaleen always loved the bright, sparkling sea, and often she would go\nout alone in her little boat, and sail for hours over the blue waters,\ngathering the pretty sea-weed, and indulging in the day-dreams that\nGerman maidens love.\n\nOne morning as Handsel was going to the college, he saw the Jung-frau\nstep into her boat and push away from the shore.\n\nHe took off his hat and bowed.\n\nShe looked at him with that rare, sweet smile that always made him\nhappy for days.\n\nHe stopped and looked back after her as the boat glided from the\nshore, and it seemed as though the sunshine of heaven and its bright\nreflection upon the waters were united, and was poured out in one rich\nflood of glory over her golden hair.\n\nHandsel passed on out of the light into the quiet seclusion of the\ncollege, and bending over his book did not notice the rising of a\nthick, black cloud that from a tiny speck soon swept over the whole\nsky, then burst into wind and rain.\n\nHe was living over the heroic ages of the olden time, when the darkness\nfell across his book, and looking out the window he saw the fierce\nstorm gathering, and heard the wailing winds crying out, Maleen!\nMaleen! 'Twas but the work of a moment to rush out into the storm and\ndown to the lashed sea-shore and there, he saw a crowd of anxious faces\nall turned hopelessly out upon the pitiless breakers.\n\nHe looked, and there tossed wildly upon the white-capped waves, rose\nand fell the frail boat, and pale and hopeless sat the pride of the\nFatherland, the beautiful Jung-frau Maleen, her matchless golden hair\nhanging like a damp shroud about her.\n\nThere were the hosts of her admirers standing upon the shore wringing\ntheir hands and weeping, they saw only death in an attempt to save\nher, and no one was so mad as to venture out upon the storm-lashed sea.\n\nEven her father stood paralyzed in the hopelessness of his agony.\n\nA strong, manly voice burst in upon the echoes of the storm. \"A boat! a\nboat!\" cried Handsel, with a stout-hearted determination in his voice\nto brave the danger of the breakers, and save the maiden he loved from\nthe angry waters.\n\nA long rope was tied about his body, and in a moment more the life-boat\nwas tossing upon the crested waves, with the brave student at the prow,\nand the poor helpless Maleen rose up and held out her white arms toward\nhim.\n\nOn over the cruel waves, the boats were nearing each other. The agony\nof suspense that filled the breathless crowd! Great God! if they\nshould meet and crash together!\n\nDown they went into the great sea gulf; Maleen with outstretched arms,\nand Handsel with his great heart beating like a signal-drum in his\nbosom, pale but unfaltering.\n\nDown! down they went!\n\nNow up came the billow, but only one boat, and Handsel at the prow was\nstruggling for the shore.\n\n\"Oh, Maleen! Maleen!\" burst from the father's white lips, then a tress\nof rich golden hair hanging over the side of the boat met his sight,\nand he knew that Maleen was in the boat with Handsel.\n\nOn it came to the shore, like a charmed boat it escaped the perilous\nbreakers, till at last, no one could tell how, only through God's great\nmercy, they were saved, and Handsel stood upon the shore with Maleen in\nhis arms.\n\nHe gave the maiden to her weeping father, then sank away, and no one\nthought of him, all were gathered around Maleen, who had fainted.\n\nSoon she opened her violet eyes, and looked around searchingly through\nthe crowd with a strange fear. \"Where, where, is Handsel?\" she cried,\nin wild excitement.\n\nThen they all wondered how they could have forgotten him, and looking\nround they saw him sitting alone, with his head bowed down upon his\nhands. He did not want their thanks.\n\n'Twas joy enough to him, that he had saved Maleen, and, brave man as he\nwas, he sat there weeping like a child.\n\nMaleen rose up, and walked feebly to him, and kneeling down upon the\nsand, she put her hand upon his shoulder, and whispered \"Handsel!\"\n\nHandsel raised his head, and saw what he had never dared hope for, in\nthe soft violet eyes upturned to his.\n\nHe answered only, \"Maleen!\" and, throwing his arms around her, pressed\nher fair golden-crowned head to his bosom.\n\nThus it was, that in the presence of God, the storm, and all the\npeople\u2014there by the the wild sea-shore, Handsel was betrothed to the\nmost beautiful maiden in all the dear Fatherland,\u2014The Jung-frau\nMaleen.\n\n\n\n\nJUANETTA;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE TREASURE OF THE LAKE OF THE TULIES\n\n\nA great many years ago, before the discovery of the wonderful gold\nmines of California, there lived in Los Angelos an old Spanish family\nof pure Castilian blood.\n\nDon Carlos De Strada was very rich. Far as the eye could reach his\nbroad acres were spread out to his admiring view, and his flocks and\nherds almost literally fed upon a thousand hills.\n\nHis house was large and commodious, built after the Spanish fashion\u2014an\nadobe house\u2014surrounded on all sides by a wide piazza, and in the\ncenter an open courtyard. The windows were guarded by latticed bars of\niron, and all the gates and doors were opened by massive keys. Bolts\nand bars belong as much to a Spanish house, as light elegancies to the\nhotel of a Parisian.\n\nWhen Don Carlos left the banks of the Guadalquivir for the wild Lake of\nthe Tulies, he brought with him a beautiful young wife, who loved him\nwith all the passionate ardor of a Spanish woman.\n\nIt was a great change for the dainty lady, from the stately halls of\ncastellated Spain to the wilderness of Los Angelos, although it was a\nwilderness of sweets, and the most enchanting climate in the world.\nThough the Don was a thorough-bred aristocrat, he was a shrewd business\nman, and so intent was he on becoming a great lord of the soil in the\nnew country, that he did not notice the roses fading from the olive\ncheeks of his wife, and the soft mellow light of the woman's eye giving\nplace to the more ethereal brightness of spiritual fire.\n\nSpanish women seldom work, but in their hours of apparent listlessness\nthey indulge in wild and ardent imaginings; and thus she would sit on\nthe vine-clad piazza of the inner court, looking up to the clear sky,\nunrivaled even in Italy, until she would almost fancy, from the heavens\nabove, she heard the rippling of the blue waters of the Guadalquivir.\n\nThere was one great hunger of her heart the Don seldom satisfied.\nShe was his wife, and beautiful; as such, he loved her; but he never\nlavished the thousand little endearments upon her that is the natural\nfood of woman's heart.\n\nAs the evening drew near, she would go to the barred window and look\nout upon the luxurious landscape, thinking only of the coming of her\nlord; and when she saw him, she would go timidly out to meet him, and\nhold her beautiful oval face up for a kiss, longing for him to throw\nhis arms around her, and, if only for a moment, hold her to his heart.\n\nHe would kiss her lightly, saying, coldly: \"There, that will do; be a\nwoman now, not a baby.\" Then she would call up a quiet dignity, until\nshe could steal for a few moments away, unobserved, and press her hands\ntightly upon her heart, saying: \"If he would only love me! If he would\nonly love me, I could live away from home, away from Spain, from every\nthing, for him! I must learn to be a woman, and then, at least he'll\nrespect me.\n\n\"Oh, dear! I wish he didn't think it so foolish in me to want to be\nloved! But I must go to him. I'll try and talk like a woman, but I\ndon't know any thing about the business that occupies his thoughts and\ntime. He never tells me any thing because he thinks I'm such a baby. If\nhe'd only love me, and let me be a baby sometimes, I think I'd be more\nof a woman.\"\n\nThen the young wife would try to call up from her weakness new\nstrength, and wiping away the traces of her emotion, would go out to\nbe what pleased her lord, only a little paler, but with heart-strings\nquivering like an \u00c6olian harp in a cold north wind.\n\nOne year passed in the strange, new country, and a beautiful babe was\nborn to the ancient house of De Strada, but the mother died, and was\nburied by the clear Lake of the Tulies.\n\nDon Carlos wept for his beautiful young wife, whose heart had been a\nsealed book, \"Love, the Secret of Happiness,\" written for him in an\nunknown tongue.\n\nHis days of mourning were few. The rain fell upon the new-made grave as\nhe gave the infant in charge of an Indian nurse who had just lost her\nown little baby. The savage mother took the child to her bosom, while\nthe polished father turned away and looked out upon the green hills\nrich in verdure, counting the probable increase of his flocks and herds\nin the coming year, and, in the pleasant prospect, forgot his sorrow.\n\nThe little Juanetta grew to be a beautiful, healthy child, under the\ncare of her indulgent nurse.\n\nShe knew where all the wild flowers grew, could shoot an arrow very\nwell, or climb a tree, and, in many of the curious arts of the tribe,\nwas quite skillful.\n\nShe was well versed in all the Indian traditions, and believed them\nwith childish credulity. She seemed to have drawn the wildness, of the\nIndian nature from the dusky bosom of her nurse, and with her little\nbow and arrow would roam the woods for whole days.\n\nAt times her father would ask the nurse, \"How is Juanetta?\" and, at\nthe reply, \"The child is well,\" he would forget that every day she was\ngrowing less and less an infant, and needed more and more a mother's\ncare.\n\nThus things went on until she was eleven years old. She was very\ntall of her age, with her long black hair hanging over her graceful\nshoulders, her rich olive complexion deepened by the glowing sun, and\nher dark eyes, fawn-like in their softness and timidity, she looked\nlike a beautiful child of the wild wood.\n\nHer father would look at her, and say: \"The girl is a perfect savage;\nshe must be placed at a convent; the Sisters would soon make a lady of\nher, for the De Strada blood is rich in her veins;\" and then he would\nsmile proudly at her rare beauty.\n\nThe summer following brought a change to Don Carlos. Till then he had\nbeen prosperous; but there had been no rain, and the grass withered and\ndried up until the famished cattle died by thousands, and the hills,\nonce covered with animal life, were left bare and desolate. Don Carlos,\nwho lost heavily, became more than ever absorbed in business cares, and\nagain the child was forgotten.\n\nJuanetta saw that her father was greatly troubled, and she thought if\nshe could only find some of the treasures hidden so many years ago\nby the great Chief of the Tulies, she could make him rich again, and\nhe would smile upon her as he sometimes used to before the cattle\ndied\u2014since then, his dark frowning face had frightened her.\n\nShe had often listened to her old nurse, sitting by the clear lake, as\nshe told her how, years ago, a great ship came to Los Angelos filled\nwith fair men, with long flowing beards, golden in the sunshine, and\neyes like the blue summer sky, and how there was one among them, taller\nand nobler than all the rest, who was their Chief.\n\nFor days they rode about the country, making their camp by the Lake of\nthe Tulies, and tradition said they brought beautiful shining stones,\nthat glistened like the stars of night, and great sacks of yellow gold\nto the lake, and buried them there at midnight; then went away in the\ngreat ship over the water.\n\nThey were seen by an old Indian woman, who was gathering magic herbs,\nbut from that moment it seemed as though a fearful spell had fallen\nupon her, for when she tried to tell the story, just as she was about\nto speak of the place where the treasure was hidden, her tongue would\ncleave to the roof of her mouth, and she could not utter a word; and\nwhen she attempted to go to the spot where it was buried, her feet\nwould fasten themselves to the ground, and she could not move. From\nthat night she seemed bewitched, and she soon died, taking the secret\nof the buried treasure with her to the unknown spirit land.\n\nJuanetta had nothing to do but listen to the wild Indian lore, and roam\nthrough the woods and down by the Lake of the Tulies; and it was not\nstrange that with her poetic temperament, she reveled in the marvelous,\ntill it seemed to her the natural and the real.\n\nShe longed for the magic talisman to point her to the hidden treasure,\nand show her the wonders of the deep, until she felt sure that one day\nshe should discover it. She told all these fancies to her nurse, who\nwas almost her only companion, and who encouraged her, believing her,\nin her fond love, to be one of the Great Spirit's chosen children.\n\nThe winter came on with rare beauty. The rain, so long withheld, fell\ncopiously, until the hills were covered with luxurious verdure and\ngorgeous flowers. Don Carlos's heart grew lighter; he might hope to\nrecover his losses in time. The orange orchard was laden with fruit,\nand the lemons fell to the ground from the bending trees. Juanetta\nloved the green grass, the fragrant flowers, and the golden fruit, and\nher wild nature expanded into the poetry of the year.\n\nOne morning she rose with the crimson dawning, and, stealing away while\nher old nurse slept, she ran softly to the Lake of the Tulies, and\nbathed her face in the clear water till the brightness of youth and\nmorning seemed united in her radiant beauty.\n\nSuddenly Juanetta stopped, her tiny hand dripping with water, half\nraised to her glowing face, and her soft, dark eyes sparkling with\nstrange excitement. Upon the brow of the distant hill, still covered\nwith the mist of the morning, she saw the Chief of the Lake of the\nTulies. She knew it was him by the soft, purple light that gathered\naround him; by the glow of perpetual youth that enveloped him, and by\nthe crimson clouds that dropped their fleece so near, and yet could not\nconceal his noble bearing.\n\nTo her eye, there seemed a shining glory about his bronze beard, and\nhis brow and cheeks glowing in the early sunlight, were fairer than\nany she had ever seen among the dusky Indian tribes or olive Spaniards.\n\nDown the hill he came, a light straw hat in his hand, and the air\nplaying with the light waves of his abundant hair. On he came to the\nlake, and to the spot where the little maiden sat, full of wonder and\nadmiration.\n\nHe, too, seemed a little surprised when he saw her, but in the soft\nSpanish tongue, bade her \"Good morning,\" and asked whose little girl\nshe was, and what had brought her so early to the charmed lake.\n\n\"I am Don Carlos's daughter, Juanetta,\" said the child, \"and you, the\nChief of the Lake of the Tulies?\"\n\nA smile gathered around the lips of the Chief, and filled his blue\neyes, with a light so pleasant that the child drew near him, and placed\nher little brown hand confidingly in his. He drew her to him, saying,\nkindly:\u2014\n\n\"You know me, then? I am the Chief of the Lake of the Tulies, and what\ncan I do for the little Juanetta?\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the child, \"of all the wonderful treasures hidden by\nthe lake, and of the palaces of the sea, and the coral groves under the\ngreat waters!\"\n\nThe Chief led her to a rock that overhung the lake, and told her to\nlook over into the waters, and she saw them clear and sparkling in the\nmorning sun, and it seemed as though the light of a thousand brilliants\nwas stealing through the shining waves.\n\nHe told her of glittering diamonds beneath the sea, richer far than all\nthe hills and valleys of Los Angelos, covered with flocks and herds;\nand how the coral trees outshone the trees of earth, in beauty, and of\nthe crystal palaces of the deep, and of the maidens of the sea, whose,\npurple hair like sea-weed, sometimes floated above the waves.\n\nJuanetta told him she had often found locks of their silken hair upon\nthe beach, and how beautiful it was. He told her of the sounding\nshells, and ocean harps breathing their rich, deep-toned melody,\nand the thousand mysteries of the wild sea lore, till the delighted\nJuanetta begged him to take her with him down, down to the crystal\ncaves, and let her become a sea-maiden, and gather pearls under the\nblue waters of the deep.\n\nBut he replied: \"You are a child of the woods, not of the wave; you may\nbecome an immortal spirit in the sky, but never in the deep, deep sea.\"\n\nTears gathered in her eyes, and she said: \"You are cruel to Juanetta,\nChief of the Lake of the Tulies. You of all your wealth of beauty,\nwill grant Juanetta nothing. Juanetta must live alone, in the woods and\nfields, with only the old nurse and the father who always forgets her.\"\n\nHe soothed the little maiden gently, and told her he would grant her\ngreater treasures than those of the deep, if she would obey him; and\nshe kissed his hand and promised.\n\nThen he took from his bosom, a talisman, and gave it to her, saying:\n\"Juanetta, this cross will guard you from evil spirits. When you are\ntroubled or angry, take it from your bosom, and ask the great Father\nabove to bless you and help you. Do this earnestly five minutes, and\nthe evil spirits will leave you.\" And Juanetta kissed the cross and\npromised.\n\n\"I have yet another talisman\" he continued, \"and very powerful. It\nopens a new world of delight and beauty, to those who are willing to\ngive their time, care, and diligent attention to the study of it. Would\nyou like it, Juanetta? You could no longer wander all day through the\nwoods, hunting wild-flowers, or dream away your life by the Lake of the\nTulies. Could you give up the wild pleasures of your present life, for\nthe gifts of the talisman I have promised?\"\n\nJuanetta's face was glowing with wonder and delight; she longed to\nenter the unknown promised land:\n\n\"I will do any thing, I will give up any thing you tell me, she cried,\nwith enthusiasm.\"\n\nShe was enchanted with the unseen gifts that left so much to her fervid\nimagination to picture, and she was delighted with the giver, the\nhandsome young Chief of the Lake of the Tulies, whose pleasant smile,\nand pleasing words, made morning's golden sunshine in her heart.\n\n\"But won't you show me where the treasure of the Lake of the Tulies\nlies hidden?\" she said, blushingly. \"All those rare gems, crimson,\npurple, golden, and diamonds sparkling like the morning dew. What can\nbe more beautiful than these?\"\n\nAll her life, Juanetta had heard of the matchless luster of these\nhidden jewels, and now to be so near them, with the Chief of the Lake\nof the Tulies by her side, she felt that her day dreams of beauty\nmight, with one word of his, or a touch of his magic wand, be realized.\n\n\"Do not ask for too much in one morning, Juanetta,\" he replied,\nlaughing. \"Now for talisman number two,\" and he took a book from his\npocket, and until the sun had risen high in the heavens, they sat\nbending over it together with mutual pleasure.\n\nThen the Chief of the Lake of the Tulies arose, taking her little\nbronzed hand in his, saying: \"I must go, my little Juanetta. Keep the\ntalisman, and study it well. The new morning is dawning for you now;\nwhat a queen of light 'twill make you?\" And he passed his hand over the\nthick waves of tangled hair that fell in long masses over the shoulders\nof the beautiful child.\n\nTears gathered in the dark eyes of the maiden. \"Are you going now,\nChief of the Lake of the Tulies?\" said she, sadly: \"Going to the\ncrystal palaces of the sea? And shall you take the treasure of the lake\nwith you? Take the talisman, I can do nothing without you! Here alone!\nOnly the old nurse, and the father who never thinks, never thinks of\nJuanetta! And you, too, will forget Juanetta!\"\n\n\"No! no, Juanetta, I will not forget you, but will come again\nto-morrow. I will not go to the sea, since you cannot go, but will stay\nand teach you the use of the talisman, and the treasure of the lake\nshall rest till we can find it together! So now good-by to-day.\"\n\nAnd then they parted, and Juanetta was very happy in the light of the\nnew dawning.\n\nAll day long she studied, and many successive days, and the Chief of\nthe Lake of the Tulies always came, either at morning or at evening, to\nhear her lesson.\n\nSometimes she would ask him about the hidden treasure, as they walked\nby the lake; he would smile and say, \"I have found a treasure by the\nLake of the Tulies richer than all the gems of the ocean,\" and when\nJuanetta begged him to show it to her, he would tell, her to look into\nthe water; but she could see only the reflection of her own sweet\nface, full of wondering happiness.\n\nThen he would laugh again, and say, he could not tell her now of his\ntreasure by the Lake of the Tulies, but he would describe the rich gold\nmine he had discovered in the ca\u00f1on, and tell her there was gold enough\nin it almost to fill up the lake.\n\nThus weeks and months passed by. Juanetta was twelve years old. She\nhad improved rapidly in her studies, and had learned to call her\nyoung teacher by another name, not so long or high sounding, but very\npleasant to them both, and often they would laugh at their first\nstrange meeting by the charmed Lake of the Tulies.\n\nAt last her father was aroused to the sense of her increasing beauty.\nHe saw, that the years of childhood were fast passing away, and that\nshe stood upon the threshold of dawning womanhood.\n\nHe was greatly surprised, and delighted to find her proficient in\nstudies of which he supposed she knew nothing, and he made all possible\nhaste to have her placed at a convent, where she could enjoy every\nadvantage of culture and refinement.\n\nThe young stranger who had been her teacher, became a great favorite\nwith Don Carlos. He was engaged in developing a mine, in the San\nFrancisco ca\u00f1on, in which he succeeded in amassing great wealth, though\nin after years the mine failed to yield its store of golden treasure.\n\nFour years passed away, and Juanetta returned to her father's house, an\naccomplished, and beautiful lady. Again by the Lake of the Tulies, she\nmet the Chief of her childhood's dreams, and there together, they found\nthe treasure greater than all the wealth of land or sea, the pure and\nearnest love of their youthful hearts.\n\nThey were married, and Don Carlos's heart swelled proudly, as he\nthought of the great wealth their union had brought into his family,\nwhile they blessed God for the lifelong treasure He had given them, by\nthe charmed Lake of the Tulies.\n\n\n\n\nEMPEROR NORTON.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived near a small village on the shore of the\nAtlantic, an honest farmer named Norton, who had three sons.\n\nThe two elder were smart, active lads, but the youngest was quiet,\nand so much given to dreaming that his brothers ridiculed and often\nslighted him.\n\n\"He is so stupid,\" they would say, \"he will be a disgrace to the\nfamily;\" but what annoyed him most, they gave him the unpleasant\n_sobriquet_ of Dumpy, on account of his fat, rosy cheeks.\n\nAs the boys grew up, the eldest took the farm, and was to take care\nof the father and mother, the second became clerk to a merchant in a\nneighboring city, but poor Dumpy, in the indolence of his disposition,\ndid nothing. He was always hoping some impossible thing would \"turn\nup,\" but he had no rich relations, indeed no one seemed to take much\ninterest in him but the mother, who would always say, \"Poor Dumpy, he\nis a good-hearted boy,\" then she would sigh heavily, as though there\nwas nothing more to be said.\n\nAt last the father became quite out of patience, and calling the boy\nto him one day, he said: \"You are now twenty years old, and never\nhave earned so much as your salt, and it is quite time for you to do\nsomething for yourself. Your brother, who has taken the farm, complains\nthat he is obliged to support you in idleness, which certainly is not\nright.\"\n\n\"For the farm he will take care of your mother and me, but you and\nyour other brother must look out for yourselves.\"\n\n\"Give me,\" answered Dumpy, \"what money you can spare, I ask nothing\nmore, I will go and seek my fortune, and you shall hear of me when I\nbecome a rich man.\"\n\nThe father gave him what money he could, and he went away, no one at\nhome knew whither, leaving only the mother to weep for him.\n\nWhen Dumpy left the farm-house he walked on to the village, feeling\nthat he was going into the great world full of promise, but he never\ndreamed of disappointment.\n\nWhen he arrived at the village inn the stage was standing at the door.\n\"I will go,\" he said, \"where fortune leads me.\" So he took his seat in\nthe stage, and paid his fare to the end of the route, which happened to\nbe the great city of New York.\n\nAll day long he was very happy looking out of the windows upon the\nchanging landscape, and indulging in day-dreams. Sometimes he would\ncome to a pretty village nestling among the hills. \"I would like,\" he\nwould think, \"of all things to stop here, 'tis so very pleasant, but I\nhave paid my money, and I must go on.\"\n\nIt was night when the stage entered the city, its heavy wheels rumbling\nover the paved streets, and crowding along past carts, omnibuses, and\ncarriages, till poor Dumpy, who had never been in the city before,\nbegan to feel very much bewildered and confused.\n\n\"Where shall I go,\" said Dumpy to the driver, when the stage stopped.\n\"'Tis so noisy I can't hear myself think. Oh, dear! I don't know what\nto do,\" and he looked so pitiably helpless that the driver was sorry\nfor him, though he could not help laughing. \"Come with me, my boy,\" he\nsaid, so he went with the driver to the cheap lodging-house, where he\nstopped when in town.\n\nTo enumerate all poor Dumpy's adventures while in New York would be\nimpossible. Enough to say it was not long before his money was gone,\nand he shipped before the mast in a merchant vessel for California.\n\nPoor Dumpy! Now came woful experiences, for a time he was wretchedly\nseasick, and he soon found that to go before the mast was no joke, but\nin his way he was quite a philosopher, and after a few weeks became a\nvery good sailor.\n\nAs he was pleasant and obliging he became a favorite with all on board,\nbut he loved most of all when off duty, to sit by himself in the soft\nstarlit evenings as the good ship sailed over the tropic seas, and\ndream of the land of gold to which he was going.\n\nHe possessed a vivid imagination, and his visions of the wealth of the\nnew Eldorado were most glowing.\n\nHe would picture to himself how like a prince he would luxuriate in\nriches, how great and generous he would be, even to the brothers who\nhad despised him. It is a happiness to be able to revel in dreams as he\ndid, for the pleasures of anticipation are but too often greater than\nthe reality.\n\nHe loved his mother, she at least had always been kind and gentle to\nhim.\n\n\"My dear mother,\" he would say to himself, with a bright tear in his\neye, \"she shall yet live in a palace. God bless her, dear mother.\"\n\nThen he would sigh till a bright thought drove away the sad one. \"Oh,\n'tis so delightful to be rich,\" he would say.\n\nThen he would rub his hands as complacently as though the wealth of the\nIndies lay at his feet.\n\n\"I shall give the father every thing he wishes of course,\" he would\ncontinue, \"and I will make the brothers rich men, for to be generous\nand forgive is the attribute of true greatness, and for myself I will\nmarry the prettiest woman in the world, and I will give her every thing\nshe can possibly desire.\"\n\nOften the sharp quick bell, for change of watch, would call him to\nduty, and scatter his gorgeous dreams, leaving only the dull, hard\npresent in his mind and heart.\n\nAt length the good ship arrived in San Francisco, and there again Dumpy\nfound all the wild bustle and confusion of the early days.\n\nGold was plenty in dust and bars.\n\nWhen a man bought any thing he would take out of his bag of gold dust\nas much dust as he was to pay for the article, and he would be off.\n\nThe highest price was paid for labor, and Dumpy soon engaged to drive\na cart for two hundred and fifty dollars per month, but he determined\nto make this arrangement only for a short time, till he could get money\nenough to go out prospecting in the mining districts.\n\nThis he soon accomplished, but he found a life in the mines even harder\nthan before the mast, but the golden future was before him, and he\npersevered.\n\nHe and another young adventurer built a cabin together by a little\nspring of clear, bubbling water.\n\nThey worked early and late, with the wearisome pick and shovel for\nthe precious gold that was to pave the pathway of their lives with\nhappiness, but often night found them disappointed and weary, and they\nwould return to their lonely cabins, cook and eat their coarse supper,\nand lie down upon the hard floor, wrap their blankets around them,\nwith heavy and hopeless hearts. But thank God, sunshine and the fresh\nmorning brings renewed life and hope to young hearts.\n\nOne morning when Dumpy awoke he found his companion had risen and gone\nout before him, so he went out alone, thinking, \"who knows what will\nturn up before night, I may become a millionaire. I'll try my luck\nalone to-day;\" so he did not go to the ledge they had been prospecting\nthe day before, but started off in a new direction.\n\nAll day long he worked diligently, but the sunset found him as poor as\nthe dawning, and quite worn out, he threw himself down upon the ledge\nto rest a little before going home. \"Ah, me!\" thought he, sadly, \"how\nlong the poor mother will have to wait for her palace.\"\n\nAs the sunset deepened into twilight, he rose, and shouldering his pick\nand shovel, started for the cabin. \"I can not call it home,\" he said to\nhimself, \"there is no mother there.\"\n\nHe had not gone far, before a little shrill voice arrested him, and\nlooking down, he saw a little old man, sitting among the loose stones,\nrubbing his foot and ankle, and groaning piteously.\n\nHe was very quaintly dressed, in a little red jacket, and wore a\nSpanish hat with little gold bells around it, and his long gray beard\nswept the ground, as he sat dismally among the rocks.\n\n\"Oh, dear! I cannot move,\" said the little man; \"I have sprained my\nfoot, will not you help me home? Oh dear! oh dear!\" and he moaned so\npiteously that Dumpy, who was kind-hearted, was very sorry for him; so\nhe took the old man up in his arms as tenderly as if he had been an\ninfant.\n\nThe old man pointed out the way, and Dumpy trudged wearily on, for\nthough he was no bigger than a child of eight years old, he seemed\nquite heavy to Dumpy. After working all day with the pick and shovel,\nand finding nothing, his heart was heavy with hope deferred. \"If I had\nfound gold to-day,\" thought he, \"a light heart would have made a light\nburden; but thank God I am well, and this poor man suffers fearfully.\"\n\nPoor Dumpy! He went on, down the ca\u00f1on, then up the mountain, it seemed\nto him for miles; at last the little man pointed to a crevice in the\nrock, through which Dumpy managed with some difficulty to creep; but\nas he went on it widened, and suddenly opened into a large cavern.\n\n\"Go on,\" said the old man, sharply, as Dumpy stopped and gazed around\nwith astonishment. So he went on till they came to a large hall\nsparkling with crystal, and glowing with precious stones.\n\nA large chandelier hung from the roof, and cast a flood of softened\nlight through the whole cavern, and Dumpy could see in the stone floor\nlarge masses of pure yellow gold.\n\nHe saw in the huge irregular pillars that rose to the dome of the\ncavern, great veins of the precious ore, and everywhere it was\nscattered about with the most lavish profusion.\n\nCurious golden figures, carved with strange devices, stood in the\nniches, and there were couches with golden frames, and tables of gold,\nso that the light, reflected from the clear crystal dome, glittering\nwith shining pendants, by the softening yellow tinge, was mellow and\npleasant.\n\nPoor Dumpy had been so long in the twilight and darkness, that he was\ndazzled by the brilliant scene, and for a few moments was obliged to\nclose his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw that he was surrounded\nby a large crowd of the little people, who were full of anxious fears\nabout the old man he held in his arms, but he assured them he was\nsuffering only from a sprain, which, though very painful, was not\ndangerous. They gathered anxiously around the little man as he laid him\nupon a couch.\n\nHe soon discovered that the man he had assisted was king over the\nlittle people who guard the mountain treasures, covering the rich\nplaces with unpromising stones and earth, and often misleading the\nhonest miner by scattering grains of the precious metal in waste\nplaces; thus it is we hear so often of disappointed hopes, and\nabandoned mines.\n\nAfter they had in some measure relieved the suffering of their chief,\nthey turned to Dumpy, who stood in the most profound astonishment,\ndrinking in all he saw or heard.\n\n\"You have done me a great kindness,\" said the chief; \"and, though it\nis our business to mislead miners, we can be grateful, and you may now\nclaim any reward you desire.\"\n\n\"I have saved your ruler,\" said Dumpy, looking at the crowd of little\npeople, and trying to think of something great to ask as a reward.\n\n\"Our chief! our king!\" cried all the little people, together. \"Ask what\nyou will and it shall be granted.\"\n\n\"I would be great as well as rich,\" thought Dumpy, so he said aloud:\n\"Make me emperor of all the mines, and let all the miners pay tribute\nto me.\"\n\n\"It shall be so,\" said the king. Then he called one of his servants\nto bring the golden crown and scepter, and bidding Dumpy kneel before\nhim, he placed the scepter in his hand and the crown upon his head, and\nstriking him a sharp blow upon his shoulder, he said, \"Arise, Emperor\nNorton.\n\n\"As long as you preserve this crown and scepter from moth or rust, dew\nor fog, you shall be the true emperor of all the mines in California\nand Nevada, and all the miners shall pay you yearly tribute, but if you\nlose either crown or scepter, or moth, rust, midnight dews and damps\nfall upon them, they will fade away, and you will be emperor in name\nonly, and the miners shall pay you no yearly tribute.\"\n\n\"So let it be,\" said the newly-made emperor; and they all sat down to\na table spread with every delicacy, and feasted till the noon of the\nfollowing day.\n\nWhen the emperor bade the knights of the mountain adieu, the little\ngray king said: \"Beware of the dews and damps of the night,\" and he\nstarted for his cabin.\n\n\"I will first visit my old comrade,\" he said, \"though he is now one of\nmy subjects, I will not be proud and haughty.\"\n\nOne of the little men ran before him, and led the way out of the cave\ninto the sunlight, which was so bright that the emperor shaded his\neyes with his hand, and when he had removed it the little man had\ndisappeared.\n\nThe emperor looked around, but could see no trace of him; even the\ncrevice through which he had passed, was nowhere to be seen.\n\n\"It is a wonderful dream,\" said he; but no! there was the golden crown\nupon his head, and the scepter in his hand.\n\n\"I will find that cave,\" thought he; so he began to look for it very\neagerly, till the lengthening shadows told of the coming of evening,\nand he thought of the gray king's warning, \"Beware of the dews and\ndamps of night.\"\n\n\"Oh dear! if I should lose the tribute money,\" he said, in great\ndistress; \"I should be emperor but could build no palace for the\nmother, nor could I marry the prettiest woman in the world, and supply\nher innumerable wants;\" so he started in great haste for the camp,\nalways keeping fast hold of the crown and scepter.\n\nOn he rushed till the shades of twilight filled the deep ca\u00f1on, through\nwhich he was obliged to pass, then he broke into a run, crying, \"Oh\nme! if I should be too late! too late! now that my hopes are crowned\nwith success. Too late! too late!\"\n\n\"Haste makes waste,\" and so the emperor found it. He lost the path and\nbecame entangled in brush and rocks, until he became almost wild with\ndespair.\n\nThe night came on with a heavy mist that near morning deepened into\nrain.\n\nWith the gray twilight of the dawning, weary and worn, he reached his\ncabin door, but the golden crown and scepter had passed away into the\nmists of night.\n\nThe poor emperor told of his wanderings to his comrades, and mourned\nover the night in which his crown and scepter had departed from him,\nbut they only laughed, saying, \"You have been dreaming again, Emperor\nNorton.\"\n\nHe never took the pick and shovel again. \"Shall an emperor work,\" he\nwould say, \"while thousands of his subjects roll in luxury?\"\n\nAn emperor, he thought, should reside in the chief city of his realm,\nso he left the mines and came to San Francisco.\n\nHere for years he has lived, always wearing a well-worn suit of blue,\nwith epaulettes upon the shoulders, which, perhaps, might have been an\nunmentioned gift of the gray king of the mountains.\n\nAt the table of all restaurants and hotels he is a free and welcome\nguest, and all places of amusement are open to him; in fact, wherever\nyou go in San Francisco, you are almost sure to meet the Emperor\nNorton.\n\n\n\n\nDEATH'S VALLEY;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE GOLDEN BOULDER.\n\n\nYears ago, even before what Californians understand to be the \"early\ndays,\" Dick Fielding was promoted to a captaincy in the United States\nArmy.\n\nMerry days were those, while he was stationed near the metropolitan\ncity. Good pay, little work, brilliant parties to attend, and beautiful\nwomen to make love to. Love making seemed the natural element of\nthe gay young captain, and thanks to his handsome face and shining\nepaulettes, he was very successful.\n\nIn this world our dear delights are but fleeting as the smiles of\nan April day\u2014so thought poor Dick as he sat one morning about\neleven o'clock at his luxurious breakfast, reading a dispatch from\nhead-quarters that doomed him to the wilderness of Fort Tejon, far\nbelow the quaint old Spanish town of Los Angelos.\n\n'Twas a sad day for the gallant young captain, but all his sighs\nand regrets were unavailing. There was no reprieve\u2014orders must be\nobeyed. Fortunately Dick was of an elastic temperament, and the love\nof adventure and the charm of novelty which the new country possessed\nfor him soon returned to him that zest for life which youth and health\nseldom entirely lose.\n\nSouthern California has a most generous climate, producing in the\nvalleys the luxurious vegetation of the tropics, and on the hills and\nmountains the hardier products of the temperate zone.\n\nDick was a favorite among the officers, social and joyous in his\ndisposition, he became the life of the garrison. He was a fine\nhorseman, and often he would join a party of the Mexican rangers in\ntheir excursions, and ride for days over the beautiful country round\nFort Tejon.\n\nHe could shoot an arrow very handsomely, and by his easy good nature he\nwas soon on friendly terms with the Indians, who in that part of the\ncountry are so mixed with the native Californians or Mexicans that it\nis difficult to distinguish the races.\n\nHe became an expert in all the athletic sports of the country, but\nwith all he could do, the monotony of a life at Fort Tejon was very\nwearisome to him; so when he found a beautiful young girl among the\nIndians, he plunged recklessly into his old habit, of love making; and\nin a few weeks he was domesticated in a little adobe house near the\nfort with his pretty Indian bride, who amused him for the time like any\nother novelty of the country.\n\nShe, poor simple child of the wild-wood, worshiped her handsome,\nblue-eyed husband, and thought his hair and beard had stolen their\ngolden beauty from the glowing sunshine.\n\nAfter a time a little one came to the cottage, and the young Indian\nmother was very happy in loving the father and child who made the\nwilderness a heaven for her.\n\nWeeks, months, and years passed by, and Captain Fielding longed\nintensely to visit the gay world again. He had grown weary of his\nIndian wife, and his son in his eyes was only a young papoose, of whom\nhe was very much ashamed.\n\nAt length the order came for his reprieve. He was summoned to return\nto the Atlantic States; but of this he said nothing to his wife. One\nbright spring morning he left her looking out after him from the door\nof the little adobe, holding her three-year old boy in her arms,\nsmiling and telling him in her own soft language that dear papa would\ncome back at evening.\n\nThe burning fingers of remorse pressed heavily upon the father's\nheart as he looked upon the pretty picture\u2014but only for a moment. He\nturned away, saying with a sigh of relief: \"She'll soon forget me, for\nsome Indian Chief, perhaps,\" and was gone from her sight out into the\ndistance, on toward the great busy world.\n\nNight came on with its damps and darkness, wrapping the heart of the\nyoung wife in its shroud of shadows, never to be lifted till the\nbrightness of the spirit land made glad morning shine about her.\n\nDay by day she watched the shadows lengthen, hoping when the sun went\ndown in the crimson west he would return; but the golden moonlight\nfound her watching in vain, swaying her sleeping boy too and fro in her\narms, and drearily singing the song of her heart, in a voice from which\nthe gladness of hope was fast dying out.\n\nShe called him Dick, for his father, and with a perseverance which only\ndeep love could give her, talked his father's language to him in her\npretty, imperfect way.\n\nThe little one grew to be a strong, handsome boy, with a dark Spanish\nface, and eyes full of fire, or love as his mood moved them. In some\nthings he was like his father; gay, dashing, and attractive in his\ndisposition, he became a great favorite with the officers at Fort\nTejon, who taught him to read and write and many other things, much to\nthe delight of his mother, who would say with tears in her dark eyes:\n\"If his father lives to return he will thank you better than I can.\"\n\nIn the spring she would say: \"Before the orange-flowers ripen to golden\nfruit he will return,\" and in the autumn, \"before the fair buds gladden\nthe green hillsides he will be here!\"\n\nBut springs and autumns passed, till the broken spirit, hopeless and\nweary with waiting, passed into the unknown future, and they buried her\nwhere the first rays of the morning sun fell upon the graveyard flowers.\n\nDick loved his mother fondly, and after she died he grew more wild and\ndaring than ever, but with the undercurrent of his nature flowed all\nthe subtle instinct of the Indian.\n\nOften at Fort Tejon he heard of the great world far beyond the\nwilderness, and he learned that gold was the talisman that opened the\ngates of earthly paradise. So he said in his heart, \"I will have gold!\"\n\nYoung as he was and wild in his nature, he saw a witching paradise in\nthe soft blue eyes and sunny curls of the Colonel's young daughter\nMadeline, but no one knew that he worshiped her, no one but God and his\nown heart.\n\nAmong the Indian and Spanish boys Dick was chief. To the lowliest he\nwas gentle, to the proudest, superior, and by a wonderful magnetic\npower in one so young he bowed them all to his will. No one among\nthem thought to question his bidding; he was the ruler, and without a\nthought they obeyed him. He could ride fearlessly the wildest horse,\nsend the truest arrow from the bow, and laughed carelessly at danger as\nthough he bore a charmed life.\n\nOne evening he lay upon the green grass before an Indian encampment,\nlooking dreamily up at the great golden moon as it sailed along through\nthe clear summer sky, surrounded by the paler light of the modest stars,\nand thinking how Madeline was like the moon, queen of all maidens.\n\nThe rest were beautiful, but in comparison with the sweet Madeline were\nbut attendant lights. Then he thought of the great world where one day\nMadeline would shine fairest of the fair, and that before he could\nenter the charmed circle he must win the talisman that would give him\nevery thing, but best of all, sweet Madeline.\n\nNear him the Indian youths and maidens had gathered round an old man of\ntheir tribe, who was telling them the legend of the \"Golden Boulder.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the old man, \"white men would risk their lives for it, if\nthey could only find the valley, but even the Indians except one tribe\nwho make war upon all others, have lost trace of it; but there in the\ncenter rises a great round boulder, yellow as the full moon, all gold,\npure gold!\"\n\n\"Where?\" cried Dick, springing with one bound into the circle. Then for\nthe first time he listened to the old tradition of the Golden Boulder\nin Death's Valley.\n\n\"Far to the south,\" said the old Indian, \"lies a country rich in gold\nand precious stones. The tribe who inhabits that region makes war with\nall who dare to cross the boundaries of their hunting-grounds. In some\nway they have become possessed of guns from which they shoot golden\nbullets with unerring precision.\n\n\"The country is shut in by mountains, and the great Colorado pours its\nwaters through it. Far into the interior, deep down in the shadows,\nlies Death's Valley, and in its center rises the great Golden\nBoulder, and round it are scattered innumerable precious stones, whose\nbrightness pierces the dusky shadows with their shining light.\"\n\nThe tradition came from an old man of the hostile tribe who many years\nago was taken prisoner. Many adventurous Mexicans and Spaniards had\nsought Death's Valley, but none had ever returned from its shroud of\nshadows.\n\nDick listened to the story with deep attention. For days the thought of\nit pursued him, and at night when he closed his eyes the great round\nboulder of gold rose before him, and the glittering stones made the\nnight shining as the day.\n\nHe could learn nothing more from the Indians than the old tradition,\nbut every day he became more resolved, at any hazard, to win the great\ntalisman, gold, which alone could open the door of happiness and\ngreatness for him; even if he were obliged to seek it among the shadows\nin Death's Valley, he would win it.\n\nIt was the early days of February, which in Lower California is the\nspring time of the year. Golden oranges still hung upon the trees amid\nthe shining leaves and snow-white flowers, the buds of promise for the\ncoming year, while everywhere gorgeous flowers brightened the fragrant\nhillsides and dewy valleys.\n\nWithout a word of farewell to any one, Dick started out into the\ntrackless wilderness alone, with only his rifle and a small hatchet to\nblaze the trees now and then. Guided by the Indian's unerring instinct,\nhe reached the Colorado, strong and vigorous as when he left the\nneighborhood of Fort Tejon.\n\nHe had wanted for nothing; his trusty gun had supplied him with\ngame, and the fruits of the wild-wood had furnished him dessert. Thus\nalone in the luxuriance of that sunny clime he wandered for days, but\nstill no trace of the valley, or the Golden Boulder; but he was not\ndisheartened.\n\nDay and night, the gorgeous imagery that decked the future, gathered\nround him. As the reward of all this toil and lonely wanderings, he\nsaw his golden hopes fulfilled, and the sunny curls of the Colonel's\ndaughter resting upon his bosom. For this hope more than all others he\nlabored on.\n\nIt was the close of an excessively hot day. The dewy coolness of\nevening was delightful to the weary gold-seeker, and he threw himself\ndown upon his couch of leaves, under the shadow of the forest trees,\nthinking the way was long and weary, and feeling the desolation of the\nsolitary wilderness, casting its long shadows upon his heart.\n\nBut toil, is the mother of forgetfulness, and sleep was casting its\ndrowsy mantle over his saddened musings, when his quick ear, detected a\nsound like a light, but rapid, footstep among the dried leaves. Nearer\nand nearer it came, snapping the brittle twigs that covered the ground.\n\nHe hastily concealed himself, and waited in almost breathless stillness\nthe approach of wild beasts, or wilder Indians.\n\nA moment more, and a young Indian girl appeared, bearing upon her head\na birchen bucket. Light and graceful, with the freedom of the woods,\nshe walked along until she came to a clear spring, and bending over,\nshe filled her bucket with the pure fresh water.\n\nJust then, a rare cluster of flowers attracted her eye, and with a\nmaiden's love of the beautiful, she stopped to gather it, then poising\nher bucket upon her head, she would have started for the encampment,\nbut she was fastened spell-bound to the spot, by an unconquerable\nterror.\n\nJust opposite, and crouched ready to spring upon her, she saw a huge\npanther, his large eyes, like great balls of fire, glaring out from the\nintense shadow, already devoured her. She was paralyzed by an intense\nterror. The fearful eyes fascinated and bewildered her. In them she saw\nthe frail bridge, that separated her from the spirit land.\n\nShe could not move, or utter a sound. The panther crouched lower among\nthe tangled grass. A moment more, and he would spring upon her. The\nstream was drawing nearer, the bridge was shorter, from those fearful\neyes, she could see the gleaming of the lights of spirit land, then\na flash! a sharp report of the rifle, and the panther sprang into the\nair, and fell at the feet of the affrighted maiden!\n\nShe lived! but the waters of the spring were glowing red and warm\nwith the lifeblood of the terrible beast. His glowing eyes grew dim\nand sightless, in the river of death, and in its place, to her sight\nappeared the handsome young gold-seeker.\n\nWith all her intense emotion, she was calm, as only an Indian maiden\ncould be, but a deep glowing flush burned through the darkness of her\ncheek, as with timid grace, she gave her hand to her deliverer, and\nthrough the dusk of evening led him to the encampment, and to the\nchieftain, her father.\n\nThere was great excitement in the encampment when they saw the young\ngirl returning with a stranger. Fiercely the Indians of the hostile\ntribe gathered round them, for the girl clung tremblingly to his hand,\nand by the fitful firelight he saw the dark scowls of passion gathering\nupon their faces, yet a thrill of joy filled his heart, he now knew he\nwas by the camp-fire of the wild tribe of whom nothing was known, save\ntheir uncompromising cruelty, and that with them rested the secret of\nDeath's Valley, the great Golden Boulder, and the glittering stones.\n\nHe had saved their chieftain's daughter, and they would not harm him,\nfor well he knew the power of gratitude upon the savage heart. Calm and\nresolute he stood among them, without the shadow of a fear darkening\nhis face, until he saw the fierce fires of cruelty that shot from their\nwild eyes soften into the kindly light of gratitude and friendship, as\nthe young girl told her story with all the pathos and ardor which the\nalmost miraculous escape, had awakened in her heart.\n\nThe old chief loved his daughter with a savage intensity. She was all\nthe Great Spirit had left him, of many sons and daughters, and he felt\nthat he would be ready to battle with death itself, but he could not\ngive up his only child.\n\nThere was a mist over his fierce eyes, and a trembling about his cruel\nheart, as he bade the stranger a kindly welcome, who but for his good\nfortune in saving the girl, would have been condemned to a torturing\ndeath, unheard of.\n\nSo it was at last by this unforeseen accident, that the young\ngold-seeker slept peacefully by the smouldering camp-fire of the most\ncruel, relentless, tribe of the Colorado, and dreamed of his blue-eyed\ndarling, far away over the desert waste, safely sheltered in Fort\nTejon.\n\nThe morning dawned rich with the glowing warmth of a Southern climate,\nand though our young hero woke early, he was wearied from long travel,\nand lay for some time with half-closed eyes, lazily watching the\nIndians as they busied themselves about the encampment.\n\nHe was thinking how he should turn the advantage he had gained to the\nfurtherance of his plans, when suddenly he felt, more than saw, that\ndark, jealous eyes were upon him. He feigned to be sleeping, while by a\nstolen glance he understood every thing.\n\nThe tall, stalwart, young Indian, who bent over him with dark, knitted\nbrows and flashing eyes, loved the girl whom he had saved, and was\nalready his enemy, and one not to be scorned, as his proud bearing, and\nthe deference shown him by others attested. That he was in danger,\nDick realized; yet he rose with a free and careless manner, greeting\nthe young men with a smile, which was returned.\n\n\"Worse than I supposed,\" he said to himself; \"treachery! but they shall\nnot find me unprepared!\"\n\nThe old chief and his daughter treated him with marked kindness, and\nhe, by his modesty and pleasantry, tried to make friends among the\nyoung men.\n\nAfter breakfast preparations were made for a hunt, and Dick was\nfurnished with a fresh horse, and invited to join the company.\n\nThe day was warm and sultry, and, toward evening, the hunters, in\nstarting for the camp, became scattered, and, on entering the shadows\nof a deep ravine, Dick found himself surrounded by five of the\nstrongest young men, and, prominent among them, his enemy.\n\nIn an instant of time his hands were pinioned, and he was ordered to\nprepare for death. Looking calmly upon the dark, scowling faces around\nhim, he said: \"I am ready, only I would make one request of Tolume (his\nenemy), 'tis this; that if in his wanderings he should ever reach Fort\nTejon, he would bear a message for me to the woman I love.\"\n\nThe face of Tolume brightened, and he ordered the prisoner unbound, and\nleading him to a mossy stone, listened to the story of his love for the\nfair, blue-eyed maiden, of Fort Tejon, and of all his hopes and plans,\ntill the sun went down and the silver moon looked into the ravine.\n\nTolume was jealous no longer; so they became friends, and after\nlistening to the story of Death's Valley and the great Golden Boulder,\nhe promised to go with Dick in search of it.\n\nNothing was said on their return to the camp of the closing event of\nthe day's hunt, but Dick saw with great satisfaction, that his new\nfriend and the dark-eyed girl he had saved from death, were again\nmutually happy.\n\nIndians generally care but little for gold, but this tribe had mingled\nenough with the Spaniards to know something of its value; so the young\nIndian was very ready to accompany Dick in his adventures, and to\naccede to all his proposals, for he soon learned to look upon our hero\nas a superior being.\n\n\"To-night,\" whispered Dick, as he passed carelessly by the young\nIndian, \"when the moon rises above the mountain-tops, we will start.\"\n\nThe Indian bowed assent, and looked fondly upon the young girl he must\nleave, and whom he loved with all the fierceness of his wild nature.\n\nDuring the afternoon he told her he was going away for a short\ntime, but would return bringing her beautiful feathers, embroidered\nmoccasins, strings of shining beads, and all that the heart of a pretty\nIndian girl could desire. Then they parted, as all lovers part, with\nmingled hopes and fears.\n\nWhen the moon rose clear and bright, casting its soft, mellow light\nover the glowing landscape, the young men met silently upon the brow of\nthe hill, and started upon their journey.\n\nThey were well equipped with guns and ammunition. Each had a good\nhorse, and as much food as they could carry; the only thing they had to\nfear was lack of water and hostile Indians.\n\nFor two days they traveled on without encountering any difficulty;\nbut on the third they entered a dry, waste tract of country entirely\ndestitute of vegetation.\n\nThe ground was covered with a formation of salt and soda, and when the\nwind blew it nearly suffocated them.\n\n\"This must be Death's Valley,\" said Dick, as they rode on, talking\ncheerfully, looking carefully for any signs of gold. By noon they began\nto feel very thirsty, but there was no water, no cooling spring in all\nthe vast desert spread out before them.\n\nThe burning rays of the noontide sun seemed to dry up their blood, and\ntheir tongues were parched and feverish, but there was no shelter;\nno water. Heat, thirst, and travel began to tell upon their horses,\nso they dismounted, and led them by the bridle, till night came on,\nfinding them weary and faint, and, above all, perishing with thirst.\nTheir fevered tongues began to swell, and it seemed as though the salt\ndust permeated their whole bodies; but they dare not stop, even for a\nmoment, they were dying of thirst, and there was no water.\n\nAt last the clear, full moon rose over the desert waste of Death's\nValley and over the wayworn prospectors. They thought no more of gold,\nonly of water\u2014clear, cool, bubbling water.\n\nIt seemed to Dick as though he could hear the murmuring of the brook\nthat rippled by the cottage of his childhood home, near Fort Tejon.\n\nHe walked along, every moment growing more hopeless, when suddenly he\nsaw something bright and shining on the ground. It was a curious bow\nand quiver ornamented with little bells of silver and gold.\n\n\"Some one has been here, and only a short time ago, or the wind would\nhave swept away the track,\" said Dick, as he bent down and examined a\nfootprint upon the ground. \"'Tis too small for a man,\" he said. \"'Tis\nvery strange.\"\n\nThen he gave a loud shout, and they both listened eagerly, till they\nheard a low faint voice in reply, and, looking around, they saw by the\nclear moonlight an odd little figure trying in vain to rise from the\nground. The young men hastened to his assistance, and found a queer,\nlittle dwarf, with a long grey beard reaching nearly to his feet.\n\n\"Give me water!\" said the man. \"My horse has thrown me, and all day\nlong I have lain here in the burning sun, too weak to move, for I am\ndying of thirst! Oh give me water, only a drop of water!\"\n\n\"No water! No water!\" cried Dick, in despair. \"We, too, are famishing\nfor want of it! We must on, we have not a moment to lose, or we shall\ndie here in the desert.\"\n\n\"Do not leave me,\" cried the little man. \"I can show you water, but I\ncannot move!\" So they placed him upon one of the horses, and he pointed\nout the way.\n\nDick would have thrown aside the bow and quiver, but as he looked at\nthe curious little being beside him, quaint old Indian traditions came\nto his mind.\n\n\"This bow may serve me yet,\" he said, as he secured it to his leather\nbelt. \"Who knows but it belongs to one of the dwarf treasure-guard of\nthe valley.\"\n\nAll night they traveled on and till nearly noon the next day, when a\nlittle green spot in the desert's sand met their sight. The horses\nsnuffed the refreshing smell of water, and horses and men, faint,\nweary, and famishing, exerting all their strength started on the full\nrun for the blessed Eden before them, and soon sank down upon the soft\ngreen grass by the side of a clear, bubbling spring.\n\n\"Now I will leave you,\" said the little man. \"Give me my bow and\nquiver. We are even, I showed you the water, and you brought me to it.\"\n\n\"Not quite so fast, my little friend,\" said Dick. \"Before I give you\nthe bow and quiver, or permit you to leave us, you must lead us to the\ntreasure of the valley, then furnish us with a guide, two good mules,\nand as much of the treasure as we can carry away.\"\n\n\"I accede to your proposition on one condition! Never attempt to point\nout the treasure to any one, or to return to it yourself. If you do,\ndeath will swiftly follow, and the treasure you shall carry away will\nbe lost to you and your family for ever.\"\n\nSo they gave the promise he required, and as they were very tired they\nconcluded to wait till morning and made their frugal supper under the\ntrees, drinking plentifully of the clear, delicious water; and slept\npeacefully till morning.\n\nThe little gray man woke them early. \"Come,\" he said. \"The sun is\nrising, we must away.\" So they arose, and taking a drink of water and\neating a tortilla, started.\n\nFor some hours they traveled on in the pleasant morning air, and just\nas the sun was beginning to be scorching in its heat they entered a\ndeep ravine, and there they saw the wonderful Golden Boulder, and\ncountless precious stones, and nuggets of bright yellow gold scattered\nround it upon the shining sand.\n\nDick and his companions, were bewildered by the glittering spectacle,\nand a thousand glowing visions filled their minds. The little gray man\nblew a shrill whistle. Another little gray man appeared, and bowing\nlow, said humbly:\u2014\n\n\"What is the will of the master?\"\n\n\"Food and drink!\" answered the master.\n\nThe slave prepared a more comfortable meal than the young men had\nenjoyed since they left the encampment, and they ate heartily while the\nslave served them.\n\nWhen they had eaten, the chief ordered the slave to lade the mules with\ntreasure and conduct the young men to the confines of the valley.\n\nThen Dick returned the bow and quiver to the gray chief, and bid him\ngood-by.\n\n\"Never forget your promise, or beware!\" said the gray man, as they\nturned away, and looking back they saw in the distance the last of the\nlittle man with up-raised fingers.\n\n\"He is saying again beware!\" said Dick, laughing. How they went,\nneither of the young men could tell, but in a wonderfully short time\nthey were out of Death's Valley. The Indian returned to his tribe, but\nDick, with a happy heart, started for Fort Tejon, and after a speedy\nand safe journey he reached his early home.\n\nIt soon became rumored about, that he was the richest young man in\nthe whole country. In a short time, poor Dick, the half-breed, was\nforgotten, but every one courted Don Richard Fielding, the rich and\nelegant Spanish gentleman.\n\nThere was a great feast made at the fort, when Don Richard was united\nin the \"holy bonds of matrimony\" with the Colonel's lovely daughter,\nand never was man more happy than he, when he led his golden-haired\nbride through the halls of his pleasant mansion.\n\n\"We will travel by-and-by, love,\" he whispered. \"But first we will rest\nand be happy in our own dear home!\"\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations\n  in hyphenation have been standardized but all other spelling and\n  punctuation remains unchanged.","title":"Fairy Tales from Gold Lands","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":32197}