{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56401/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56401","id":"gutenberg_56401","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56401","summary":null,"tags":["California -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Children's stories","Christmas -- Juvenile fiction","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _The Little Lace-Maker._]\n\n[Illustration: THE\n\nGOLDEN GATE\n\nSERIES.\n\nFAIRY TALES\n\nSAN FRANCISCO.\n\nA. ROMAN & C^o., PUBLISHERS.\n\nJOHN ANDRES BAY]\n\n\n\n\n  FAIRY TALES\n\n  FROM\n\n  GOLD LANDS.\n\n  SECOND SERIES.\n\n  BY MAY WENTWORTH.\n\n  High as the clouds are the mountains bold\n  That tower in the glorious Land of Gold,\n  And ca\u00f1ons dusky with twilight deep\n  Where a thousand mystic shadows peep.\n  There are vineyards graceful with trailing vine\n  Rich in the wealth of the rosy wine,\n  There are orange groves and lime trees green\n  That glint in the sunlight\u2019s glowing sheen,\n  There are deserts yellow with priceless sand,\n  All these you will find in the Golden Land.\n\n  NEW EDITION, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n  NEW YORK:\n\n  A. ROMAN & CO., PUBLISHERS.\n\n  SAN FRANCISCO:\n\n  417 & 419 MONTGOMERY STREET.\n\n  1870.\n\n\n  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by\n\n  A. ROMAN & CO.,\n\n  In the Clerk\u2019s Office of the District Court of the United States\n    for the Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n  DEDICATION.\n\n  TO THE\n\n  CHILDREN OF CALIFORNIA,\n\n  WITH GOLDEN WISHES FOR THE CHRISTMAS-TIME,\n\n  I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK.\n\n                                    MAY WENTWORTH.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIn the pleasant Christmas-time I greet the children everywhere.\n\nTo some I shall not be a stranger, for we have met before, not face to\nface, but in the pages of the last year\u2019s little book. In the sunny\ndays of childhood, a year is so long a time, that when the summer and\nwinter have passed it seems like an age gone by; yet as again I bring\nmy Christmas offering, I hope to be remembered and welcomed as the\nfriend who loves the children well.\n\nThey are the true critics, generous and fearless. For their warm hearts\nand keen appreciation, I write these stories of the Golden Clime.\n\nMay the joy and blessedness of the holy Christmas rest upon them, and\nfollow them through all the sunshine and rain of the coming year.\n\n                                                          MAY WENTWORTH.\n\nSAN FRANCISCO, 1868.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n\n                                    PAGE\n\n  THE LITTLE LACE-MAKER                9\n\n  GOLDEN SNOW                         27\n\n  GRACIA AND CATRINA                  63\n\n  THE DANCING SUNBEAM                104\n\n  THE YOUNG GOLD-SEEKER              115\n\n  THE WISHING CAP                    129\n\n  CRIMSON TUFT                       153\n\n  SNOWDROP AND ROSEBUD               209\n\n  LAZARUS AND BUMMER                 230\n\n\n\n\nFAIRY TALES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE LACE-MAKER.\n\n\nIt was the happy Christmas Eve, yet it was very cold and dark. Over\nthe quaint old town of Bruges hung the heavy snow-clouds, and the air\nwas filled with snow-flakes, which fell so thick and fast that very\nsoon the ground was covered with a white mantle, quickly hiding the\nfoot-prints of the few who were still out buying the last gifts for\nbeautiful Christmas trees. Through the narrow streets rushed the wind,\nshrieking round the comers in its shrill whistle, and seeming to say:--\n\n      \u201cAs I go,\n      I bring the snow,\n  On this holy Christmas Eve.\n      Who can show\n      Hearts like snow,\n  On this holy Christmas Eve?\n      Blow, blow, blow!\n      Pure and fleecy snow,\n  On this holy Christmas Eve.\u201d\n\nIt was really strange what curious things the wind whistled that night,\nyet through all ran the refrain of the holy Christmas Eve.\n\nNear the great belfry of Bruges was a stately mansion, where the fires\nburned brightly in the polished grates with a warm, rosy glow, making\nupon the wall grotesque shadows of a little boy and girl who were\njoyous with expectant happiness.\n\nIt was early, and the lamps were not yet lighted. The children danced\nup and down the warm, pleasant room, where they were to remain until\nthe mother called them.\n\nThe dear, loving mother had been so busy in the great parlor, doing\nsomething full of mystery, yet the children were quite sure it was a\ndelightful mystery, that would bring them a great store of happiness,\nand they were luxuriating in their own pleasant imaginings. The door\nwas still locked, but the time was fast approaching for the grand\nopening.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t wait! I can\u2019t wait much longer,\u201d said the boy, impatiently.\n\u201cWhat a lazy old thing Santa Claus is!\u201d\n\n\u201cFor shame, brother, to speak so of the good Santa Claus, who brings us\nsuch beautiful gifts. I will watch for him, the kind old Santa Claus,\nto come from the gift land for us in all the wind and snow,\u201d and the\nlittle girl ran to the window and drew aside the rich, heavy curtain.\n\n\u201cBut Santa Claus always comes down the chimney, little Miss Wisdom,\u201d\nsaid the boy, joining her. \u201cHow it snows! I\u2019m so glad. \u2019Twill be such\nfun for us boys to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis the old woman up in the clouds, picking her goose for Christmas\ndinner,\u201d said the little girl, laughing and singing,--\n\n  \u201cOld woman, up in the clouds so high,\n  Making the feathers about us fly,\n  Picking your geese for Christmas pie,\n  Give me a piece of it by and by!\u201d\n\nJust then the mother was heard calling, and the children ran into the\ngreat parlor, all ablaze with light and beauty. In the center of all\nrose the beautiful Christmas tree, luminous with shining toys and\nmany-hued candles.\n\nOh, it was delightful! To the little ones nothing could compare with\nthe long-dreamed-of Christmas tree full of beautiful presents, just\nwhat they had been wanting, and hoped that wonderful old diviner, Santa\nClaus, would think of; and, of the whole year to them, no time was like\nthe glorious Christmas season.\n\nIn quite another part of the town, very poor and squalid, lived the\nlace weavers.\n\nIn quaint old buildings, falling to ruins, they were huddled together,\nmany wretched homes under one roof, yet even there they were trying to\ncelebrate the birth of the blessed Christ child.\n\nIn the dingy rooms burned cheap tallow candles, and the little ones,\nwith their poor wee gifts, were as happy as the brother and sister with\nthe beautiful Christmas tree in the stately mansion.\n\nOne room only, a very small one, up in an attic in the lace-weavers\u2019\nquarters, was in darkness. By the window stood a little, sorrowful\ngirl, very pale-faced, all alone, watching the snow-flakes.\n\nIt was very cold, and her clothes were thin and ragged. She shivered,\nfor she was quite chilled through. She was an orphan. The father had\ndied, oh! long ago, one whole year, an age in the life of a child. Only\nthe week before, the mother was driven away to her last home in the\npaupers\u2019 grave-yard, to rest in the plain deal coffin, till beautiful\nwhite wings should waft her up to Heaven the Golden.\n\nIt was very sad to see the little pale-faced child looking after\nthe paupers\u2019 cart, driven so roughly over the frozen ground, and\nthe kind-hearted neighbors had pitied her, and, though they were\npoor lace-makers like the mother, they had given her food with their\nsympathy, and promised to help her on with the trade.\n\nThey were true-hearted, honest folk, but somehow in this joyous\nChristmas season they had all forgotten her, and, far up in the dreary\nattic-chamber of the old tenement-house, she looked out into the night\nand storm alone.\n\nIt was so dark in the room that she could not bear to leave the window,\nthough the wind whistled in at the loose casement, making quite a\nclatter, and causing her little teeth to chatter with cold.\n\nShe was very hungry. She had eaten the last crust the night before, and\neverybody had been so busy. It was not strange, she thought, that they\nhad forgotten her.\n\nShe could remember the last Christmas they were all together. How busy\nthe mother was making the Christmas pie, and how the father brought\nhome a wooden doll, saying, \u201c\u2019Tis for my good little daughter,\u201d and\nkissed her. Then, taking her on his shoulder, he danced all about the\nroom, and how the dear mother laughed.\n\nShe was so happy then, and now so desolate and wretched. Everybody else\nwas happy; she heard the children shouting, and she was so faint and\nhungry.\n\nJust then a man, in an oil-cloth coat and cap, came along, and lighted\nthe street lamp opposite the window. That made it more cheerful; still,\nthe child was so cold and hungry, she could bear it no longer.\n\n\u201cI will go out,\u201d she thought, \u201cinto the light. Perhaps I shall dare\nto go in somewhere. The neighbors have been so kind to me, but I\u2019m not\nused to them as I was to the dear mother. I will wish them a \u2018Merry\nChristmas,\u2019 and they will give me something to eat. Then, perhaps, I\ncan sleep, and go away in my dreams to the beautiful land where it is\nwarm with God\u2019s pleasant sunshine.\u201d\n\nTaking from the shelf a faded shawl and torn bonnet, which had been the\nmother\u2019s, she fastened them on as well as she could. But they were too\nlarge; it was all of no use, they would slip off again.\n\nAs she opened the door of her chamber, a great draught of wind rushed\nin from the street. Some one was coming in at the common staircase. She\nheard merry voices and footsteps on the stairs. She drew back into the\ndarkness of her own room with shrinking timidity.\n\nVery strange it was to her the cheery laughing, yet she had been as\nlight-hearted once, but it seemed a great while ago.\n\nWhen the sound of voices died away, she stole softly down the stairs to\nthe door of the great front room, which had always been the grand place\nto her. Of all the neighbors, the woman in this best room had been\nmost kind to her and the poor mother in _her_ sickness.\n\nThe little cold fingers gave a timid knock, but, within, the father and\nmother were talking, and the little ones laughing so loud, that no one\nsaid the welcome \u201cCome in,\u201d or came to open the door.\n\nThe cold winds whistled through the uncovered halls of the tenement\nhouse, and the child stood waiting with chattering teeth, and feet\nand hands so benumbed that she thought it would be better out in the\nstreet. There she could run and warm herself.\n\nIt was snowing fast, and the feathery flakes fell all over the worn\nshawl, covering its faded colors with soft white down; over the\ngreat bonnet that would fall back upon her neck; and over the rich,\ngolden-brown curls, that were left bare to the storm.\n\nAs she ran on, the streets grew lighter, and on each side of the way\nwere gay shops, with great windows filled with a thousand beautiful\nthings. How much better it was than staying in the dark attic-room\nalone; and she thought, if she were not so cold and hungry, she could\nhave quite enjoyed it.\n\nThere was a great jolly man walking on before her, humming a song.\nPresently he stopped to look in at a shop window, and she read in his\nbroad, pleasant face that his heart was kind and loving. So, without\nstopping to dread it, she ran up to him, saying, \u201cPlease, sir, I wish\nyou a merry Christmas.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, ha! little one,\u201d he said kindly, \u201cyou\u2019ve caught a Christmas gift,\nbut it is too stormy a night for little things like you to be out.\u201d\nDrawing from his pocket one of many small packages, he said, \u201cMy\nbabies will never miss this. Now run home, like a good child; no doubt\nthe mother is calling you now.\u201d\n\nThen he hurried on, and the child, with trembling fingers, untied the\nparcel. How she hoped it was a piece of bread; but no! It was a pretty\ntoy lamb, with a fleece as white as the snow that was covering her.\n\nShe was so much disappointed that the tears ran down her face very\nfast, and in the storm and cold this was uncomfortable.\n\nJust then the beautiful chimes sounded from the great belfry of Bruges.\nThis Christmas Eve they were played by a famous musician, who sat in\nthe chamber below the belfry, and struck upon an immense key-board like\nthat of a piano. These keys connect with hammers that strike the bells,\nso that in all the world there are no chimes like those of the belfry\nof Bruges.\n\nThere the grand musician sat and played, throwing the whole harmony of\nhis soul into the music, and all the town of Bruges stopped to listen,\nand, clasping each other\u2019s hands, whispered softly, \u201cHow beautiful!\u201d\nfor the divine music thrilled them.\n\nAbove all, it went to the heart of the little hungry child, out alone\nin the pitiless night and storm. The voices of the matchless chimes led\nher, and she hurried on to the great belfry, clasping the pretty white\nlamb closely in her little chilled hand.\n\nSomehow she did not feel so hungry now, and that was a blessing. There\nwas the stately mansion all ablaze with light. She could look in\nthrough the rich crimson curtains of the grand parlor window, and see\nthe beautiful Christmas tree, and the happy children dancing around it.\n\nIt was very near the belfry, and she sat down on the broad steps, and,\nwrapping her shawl about her, listened to the wonderful chimes.\n\nStill the snow fell heavily, covering her over with its cold white\nmantle, but she did not move. The voice of the chimes was whispering\nin her ear such beautiful things. It was delightful, and all the dread\nshadows that filled the night and storm faded away, for they were only\nborn of earth.\n\nYes! it told her of a great Christmas tree up in Heaven the Golden.\nThere was a pure white robe and shining wings, the priceless gift of\nthe Father\u2019s love. These were all marked with her name, and she was\nvery happy.\n\nShe was no longer hungry nor cold, for the snow mantle was thick now\nover her little shrunken form. Only the tiny pale face looked out from\nthe white covering, and that was leaning against the pillar of the\ngreat doorway. The old bonnet had fallen off; and she tried no longer\nto confine it. When the storm was over and the moon came out, it shone\nupon her golden brown hair, making it luminous with beauty.\n\nHow smoothly it sailed along, that crescent boat of the sky; and the\ndeep blue eyes watching it saw such marvelous sights so pleasant, that\na sweet peace gathered around the child. The poor little heart, that\nin the early hours of the blessed Christmas Eve beat with the quick\nflutter of fearful timidity and loneliness, was at rest in the holy\ncalm.\n\nYes! there was the dear mother in the Golden Boat, so peaceful and free\nfrom care. How tenderly her dear eyes shone, and how beautiful she was\nin the radiant light of heaven! She beckoned with her hand, and the\nlittle child reached eagerly out to her, crying, \u201cIt is the mother! Oh,\nmother, dear, I am coming! Wait, mother! I am com--\u201d\n\nUp to the Crescent Boat on to Heaven the Golden, and to the throne of\nthe loving God, had passed the spirit of the little child. Just then a\nbright star fell down from the fleecy clouds and rested upon the pure,\nice-cold forehead, leaning so heavily against the great pillar of the\nstately doorway.\n\nThe cadence of the last chime was dying away upon the still night air.\nIt was twelve o\u2019clock, and the musician went home. The great belfry was\nleft silent, and in the coming of the holy Christmas dawning all the\npeaceful town of Bruges slept.\n\nIn the morning the servant found a little child dead upon the door\nsteps of the grand mansion, with the frost glittering like a crown\nof glory in her golden hair. It was said she was a poor lace-maker\u2019s\nchild, who had died in great poverty and want. The crowd gathered about\nthe door, saying, \u201cIt is sad, oh! very sad!\u201d but they knew nothing of\nwhat the music of the bells had been to her--nothing of the Golden Boat.\n\nAt last, when men came to take the poor little thing away to the\npaupers\u2019 burying-ground, the good mother of the house said, \u201cNo, do not\ntake her away, I entreat you.\u201d\n\nThen she folded the child in her arms, kissing her pale cheeks and\ngolden hair, saying, \u201cI will see to it. The good Lord led her to my\ndoor, and, though it is late, I will do all there is left me. She shall\nrest in the pleasant garden under the linden-trees.\u201d\n\nDear little one! We can do nothing more now, but in Heaven the Golden\nthe loving God will receive her, a most precious Christmas offering!\n\n\n\n\nGOLDEN SNOW.\n\n\nThe snow-flakes were falling all over the northern Gold Land, for it\nwas mid-winter. Against the ice-bound shore the angry breakers of the\ngreat Pacific dashed, and the wind whistled like a trumpeter.\n\nA warm fire burned on the hearth of the fisherman\u2019s hut, and with a\nred face the good-wife bent over it, preparing the supper. The old man\nstood by the window looking out, and thinking his poor thoughts of the\nwind and the tide, which ended always with the same refrain, \u201cGod help\nus fisher folk!\u201d Suddenly he gave a quick start, exclaiming--\u201cHark!\nwife; what is that?\u201d\n\nThe old woman dropped the wooden spoon, and listened to the clear\nvoices that rose above the storm:--\n\n  \u201cGolden Snow! Golden Snow!\n      To and fro;\n  Over her little heart\n      We blow,\n  Our dear little sister,\n      Golden Snow.\n\n  \u201cOpen your door,\n      That the fire-light\u2019s glow\n  May tinge the cheek\n      Of Golden Snow--\n  Oh! dear little sister,\n      Golden Snow.\u201d\n\nThen came the savage old trumpeter, and blew a great blast close by the\ndoor and window of the little hut. It was really quite startling, and\nthe old woman clung to her husband\u2019s arm; but above all they could hear\nthe shrill clear voices calling--\n\n  \u201cOpen the door,\n      For the wild winds blow\n  Over the heart\n      Of Golden Snow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can not do it,\u201d said the good-wife, trembling; but the old man\nwalked straight to the door. Though his wife entreated him, saying, \u201cIt\nis the Evil One who calls without, dear husband, do not open it,\u201d he\nlifted the latch fearlessly. With a great bang in rushed the wind and\nblew out the candle.\n\n\u201cGod save us!\u201d cried the good-wife, crossing herself, almost ready to\nswoon with fright.\n\nA bright glow from the fire fell upon a willow basket, covered with a\nfine crimson cloth. As the old man took it up, a little wailing cry\nrose, which touched the woman\u2019s heart more than all her fears. Taking\nit from her husband, she exclaimed--\n\n\u201cGod pity it! It is a little innocent child!\u201d\n\nThe old man pressed hard upon the door, and drove out the ugly wind.\nThen he came to the fire, and saw his wife folding in her kind arms\nthe most beautiful little child that even a poet could imagine. She was\nas white as a snow-flake, only the rose tinge upon her cheeks and her\nlips were like ripe cherries. Her hair was soft as silk, and lay in\npretty waves of gold about her head, like the shining crown of a little\nprincess.\n\nThe good people were greatly bewildered; but when they looked into the\nliquid blue eyes of the little one, it seemed like a deep fountain\nof happiness that was opened to them, and they were delighted beyond\nmeasure. As they had no children, this child seemed like a God\u2019s gift,\nand they adopted her for their own.\n\nHer little robes were of the finest material, daintily embroidered, but\namong them all there was nothing to tell her name or parentage, only a\ncoral necklace with a golden clasp, engraved with the letters \u201cG. S.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas ever any thing so strange?\u201d said the good-wife. \u201cBut she is our\nchild now, and we will call her Golden Snow, for her hair is shining\nlike gold, and her complexion fair as the driven snow.\u201d\n\nThe poor fisher-folk had now something to love, and were never so happy\nin their lives.\n\nThe long winter gave place to the pleasant summer time, and the little\nchild grew lovelier day by day, till in all the northern gold land\nthere was not a maiden who could compare with her.\n\nGood fortune had followed the fisherman. Ever since that stormy night\nhe had never drawn in his net empty, and there had been always plenty\nin the larder. The old woman often said, \u201cIt all comes of Golden\nSnow--she is our luck child.\u201d\n\nAs the years went by, she had taught the maiden all she knew herself,\nwhich was little enough, to be sure; but the child had other teachers.\nFrom the birds she received the gift of song, and learned the wonderful\nstories of the far southern lands.\n\nThe leaves of summer, and the evergreens of winter, whispered a\nthousand pleasant things in her ear, but it was the snow-flakes that\nshe loved best of all. The old fisher-folk often heard them calling her\nas they flew about in the winter storm:--\n\n  \u201cGolden Snow! Golden Snow!\n      You are one of us.\n  When the wild winds blow,\n      Come out to us\n  From the fire-light\u2019s glow.\n      You are our sister,\n  Golden Snow.\u201d\n\nThen, before the good-wife could stop her, the little maiden would\nfly out into the storm, full of joy, dancing about as lightly as the\nsnow-flakes themselves.\n\nAt first the old fisherman would run after her, and bring her in\nquickly, for fear that the chill of the storm would kill her; but\nwhen he saw that this only saddened her, and how rosy, laughing,\nand healthful she always was with the snow-flakes, he said to the\ngood-wife--\n\n\u201cThey do not harm her--let the child have her way.\u201d\n\nAfter this they would stand by the window watching her; and very often\nthey heard her saying--\n\n\u201cMy pretty sisters, how merry we are--how much I love you! The winter,\noh! the winter, is the joy time, and my sisters the fairies of the\nwinter.\u201d\n\nThen the snow-flakes would answer:--\n\n      \u201cGolden Snow,\n  Many maids are fair,\n      We know,\n  But none like the princess\n      Golden Snow.\u201d\n\nSo it happened that the old fisher-folk found out that Golden Snow was\na princess, and they no longer wondered at the innate grace of the\nlovely child. Every thing she said, and all her ways, was so charming\nthat it was impossible to resist her; but as she was so gentle and\ngood, this was all well. Every night, before she went to sleep, she\nsaid reverently--\u201cOur Father, who art in heaven.\u201d The loving God heard\nher, and kept her heart pure, as she passed on through the portals of\nchildhood into timid, dreamy maidenhood.\n\nOne day, in the winter time, when Golden Snow was about fifteen years\nold, a herald rode by the fisherman\u2019s cottage, crying--\u201cThe prince!\nthe prince will marry the most beautiful maiden in all the Gold Land.\nHear! hear! the prince will marry the most-beautiful maiden in all the\nGold Land!\u201d\n\nThen the old fisherman went out and asked the messenger what it meant.\n\n\u201cIt means this,\u201d replied the man, \u201cthat though the prince and all his\nancestors were born in Russia, he has determined to marry only in the\nGold Land, and the most beautiful maiden. For you must know, that\nthough he is so high born in the old world, the estates are getting\npoor, but here he has won every thing. He has opened a mine so rich\nthat he will never be able to count his money. He wishes his children\nto be real lords of the Gold Land--to be miner princes. So here he will\nmarry even the poorest maiden, but she must be the most beautiful.\u201d\n\nThen he told how all the lovely young girls in the country were invited\nto a great feast at the castle, and that the prince would choose a wife\nfrom among them.\n\nAfter this, the herald went crying before every house, no matter how\nhumble, for this was the command of the prince.\n\nThe old fisherman went into the cottage, and told all to the good-wife.\n\n\u201cGolden Snow is the most beautiful maiden,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the old man, \u201cGolden Snow is the most beautiful, but he who\nwins must seek her. She should not go to the castle for a husband, even\nthough he were a king.\u201d\n\nThis grieved the mother, for all her life she had eaten the bread of\ntoil, and she longed to see the dainty fingers of her adopted child\ncovered with rings, and to have her wear costly trailing robes, such as\nthe wives and daughters of the great miner princes wore.\n\nIn the corner sat Golden Snow, braiding her silken hair, which was so\nlong it swept the ground. She bound the broad plaits about her head,\nand formed a shiny-crown.\n\n\u201cWas there ever any thing like it?\u201d said the old woman, sighing, and\npassing her brown hand fondly over the beautiful tresses.\n\n\u201cThe father is right,\u201d replied Golden Snow. \u201cMy sisters will see to\nit. Have never a care, mother;\u201d and the maiden began singing the\nnightingale\u2019s song, till the rafters of the old hut rang with the\nsilvery melody.\n\n\u201cThe chit of a child has never a care,\u201d thought the old woman, \u201cbut it\nis different with me, who know what life is.\u201d\n\nAll through the north land there was great excitement. Everywhere the\nyoung girls wrought upon gay dresses, and the fathers and mothers\nconsulted together, that nothing might be wanting in the ball costumes\nof their daughters, for each one thought--\u201cOur child is the most\nbeautiful maiden.\u201d\n\nThe morning dawned without a ray of sunshine. Only the heavy\nsnow-clouds covered the sky.\n\n\u201cMy sisters are getting ready for the ball to-night,\u201d laughed Golden\nSnow. \u201cVery soon the messengers will be flying out after the fleecy\nfringes and ribbons, for every one must be dressed in the real court\ncostume.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilly child, silly child,\u201d answered the old woman; yet silently she\nthought--\u201cIf my daughter could go to the ball, the prince would surely\nfall in love with her, for in all the north land she is the only true\nprincess.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee, they are coming, mother!\u201d exclaimed Golden Snow, clapping her\nhands with delight.\n\nThe old woman looked out of the window, and saw everywhere the\nsnow-flakes flying about, like little madcaps, over hill and valley.\n\nIt seemed a long day to her; there was a chill in the air, and she\nwas not happy. Satos, the old fisherman, came in, saying, in his\ngood-natured voice, \u201cIt will be stormy to-night, wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, well,\u201d replied she, \u201cwhat will that matter to us, who stay at\nhome?\u201d\n\nJust then a knock came at the door; and when the old man opened it, he\nsaw a stately lady, who was so covered with snow that no part of her\ndress could be seen. It was like a cloak about her. Upon her head she\nwore a band of shining brilliants, that so dazzled the old man that he\ncould not speak a word.\n\nThe lady stepped into the cottage, and when she saw Golden Snow, she\nembraced her fondly, saying, \u201cMy dear child, I have not forgotten that\nit is your birthday, and that you are now fifteen years old.\u201d She took\na little box from her pocket, and placed it upon the floor. In a few\nmoments it had increased to so great a size that it was large enough to\nhold the entire wardrobe of a lady.\n\nGolden Snow kissed her hand, and thanked her again and again.\n\n\u201cI must go now,\u201d said the lady; \u201cI can not endure the heat; but never\nfear, my child, for your sisters shall attend to every thing. Now,\ngood-bye;\u201d and again she embraced the young maiden tenderly, and in a\nmoment was gone.\n\nThe fisherman and his wife had been standing gazing upon this scene in\nsilent amazement; but when the lady had disappeared, and they could not\nsee how, the old woman recovered her voice--\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cthe lady! she did not go out at the door,\nnor the window; how did she go?\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t ask me, wife--I don\u2019t know any thing,\u201d replied the old man in a\nbewildered way. \u201cI believe--I rather think I am in the fog.\u201d And after\nthis he sank into a chair, and did not speak again for an hour. He was\ntrying in vain to get out of the fog. A clear, ringing laugh startled\nthe old man; it was Golden Snow, whose eyes were glistening with mirth.\n\n\u201cWho was she, child?\u201d asked the good-wife.\n\n\u201cIt was the Snow Queen, mother,\u201d replied the young girl, as soon as she\ncould speak for laughing. \u201cBut now let us look at my birthday gift.\u201d\n\nThe good woman\u2019s curiosity overcame her wonder; so, taking the silver\nkey, she unlocked the great box, and displayed such a quantity of\nbeautiful things, that her admiration was as great as her amazement.\n\nThere were shining robes of silver and gold cloth, and rich cloaks of\nfur, ornamented with glittering gems. Golden Snow was almost wild with\ndelight, and her beaming eyes glistened with the unexpected pleasure.\nAnd the good-wife, though the mysticism troubled her greatly, could not\nbut rejoice at the sight of all these treasures.\n\nShe took up a robe of silver cloth, richly embroidered with gold,\nsaying, \u201cOh! my child, if you could only wear this to the ball, I\nshould live to see you the bride of a real prince, and the richest man\nin all the Russian possessions, except the great czar himself.\u201d\n\nThe old woman sighed heavily, adding, \u201cIt would not be right to say\naught against the good-man, for there is nobody like him; but I do\nbelieve he would have his way if old Nickey Bend stood at the door with\nhis cloven hoof, so it is no use talking--we must give up the ball, my\nchild.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am content,\u201d said Golden Snow, fastening a string of pearls into\nthe shining crown that she had formed of her own abundant tresses. Then\nshe threw about her a rich fur mantle, made of a thousand different\nskins of the finest quality.\n\n\u201cI must go now, and dance for a while with my sisters. Remember,\nmother,\u201d she added, as the old woman shook her head, \u201cit is my\nbirthnight--you would not deny me.\u201d\n\nThe old woman listened, and heard the clear voices calling:--\n\n  \u201c\u2019Tis thy birthnight, sister fair,\n  Join us fairies of the air.\n  Where the night-winds round us blow\n  We are waiting, Golden Snow.\u201d\n\n\u201cKiss me, mother, for I must go,\u201d said the maiden, eagerly. And with\nthe old woman\u2019s kiss warm upon her cheek, she ran out and danced with\nthe pretty snow-flakes till her face glowed and her eyes sparkled like\nthe rich carbuncle that clasped her mantle.\n\n\u201cIt is getting late; come in, child! come in!\u201d called the old woman,\nwho grew weary waiting.\n\nThe maiden kissed her white hands to the fleecy snow-flakes, singing\nlike a bird--\n\n  \u201cGood night!\n  Snow-flakes white.\n  Golden Snow\n  Now must go.\n  Sisters white,\n  Good night! Good night!\u201d\n\nThere was a little sound, as though soft hands met and young lips\nkissed each other, and Golden Snow ran into the house, rosy, joyous,\nand ready to obey the good mother, even when she said, \u201cGo to bed, my\ndear child,\u201d though the bright eyes were still wide awake.\n\n\u201cYou will tell me a story, mother,\u201d said the young girl, in a coaxing\ntone.\n\nSo the old woman sat down by the bedside, and told her a wonderful\nstory of the olden time, how a fair princess was changed into a blue\nbird by the incantations of a wicked old witch, who had red eyes,\nand had studied the black art. And how, after a long time, the cruel\nenchantment was broken by a brave young prince, who had marvelous\nadventures. \u201cSo it all ended happily,\u201d said the old mother, bending\nover Golden Snow to kiss her. Then she saw that the young maiden slept,\nand she stood gazing upon her fresh young face, and thinking curious\nthoughts, which somehow were enwoven with the web of the story she\nhad been telling, but all ended in this:--\u201cGolden Snow is the most\nbeautiful maiden.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt the castle the musicians were playing, and the grand saloon was like\nan enchanted hall, with fragrant air and gorgeous light. The delicious\nmusic stole into the heart, and throbbed in the impassioned pulses of\nthe guests, the noble gentlemen and fair ladies.\n\nThe dark-eyed brunette rivaled the delicate blonde, and all were lovely\nin their dainty robes, with the soft mellow light floating around them.\n\nAmid the festive throng, with courtly hospitality, walked the young\nprince. The winds and sun had bronzed his handsome face, and the damp\nexhalations of the mine had moistened the rich curls of his dark hair.\nYet nothing in all the rough miner\u2019s life had harmed him in any way.\nHe was a prince born, and a real prince at heart. There was not a\nfather in the north land who would not have taken him by the hand, nor\na mother who would not have been proud of him. Even the young maidens\nwhispered together, \u201cHe is a _man_; one could look up to him, and that\nis the best of all.\u201d\n\nThe prince was attentive to all his fair guests, but he danced more\nwith the consul\u2019s daughter. She was a proud young beauty, so ambitious,\nthat she had treated with scorn many an honest heart in the Gold Land.\n\n\u201cMy great-great-grandfather was younger brother to an earl, and I am\nbeautiful enough to be the bride of a nobleman,\u201d she would say, as she\nsat by her mirror. When the herald came with the invitation to the\nball, she determined in her mind to marry the rich Russian prince.\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d she thought, \u201cI am the most beautiful, so that is settled.\nI will go back to the old world, where I will astonish even the queen\nwith the richness of my dress and the luster of my jewels, and every\none will pay court to the princess of the Gold Land.\u201d\n\nSo she went to the ball with glistening eyes and a proud flush upon her\ncheek, and all the guests whispered, \u201cThe consul\u2019s daughter is the most\nbeautiful maiden.\u201d It found an echo in the heart of the prince, so that\nthe matter seemed really decided.\n\nJust then the music ceased, for the musicians were weary. The dancers\nwere quite out of breath, and the windows of the grand saloon were\nopened to admit the refreshing air.\n\nWithout, the snow-flakes were holding their revel in honor of the\nprincess Golden Snow. Up to the great carved windows they flew, and\ntheir clear voices sounded through the ball-room so distinctly, that\nthe prince and all his guests heard them:\n\n  \u201cThe consul\u2019s daughter is fair, we know,\n  But not like the beautiful Golden Snow.\n  There are lovely maids at the castle ball,\n  But Golden Snow is fairer than all.\u201d\n\nThe flush of pride in the cheek of the consul\u2019s daughter gave place to\nthe deeper red of anger. Her eyes shot flames of fire, and her brow\ndarkened with heavy clouds. \u201cWhat does this insult mean?\u201d she said\nsharply to the prince.\n\nThe young man gave a start, as though he were awaking from a dream. \u201cIt\nis strange,\u201d he answered, \u201cbut it shall be looked to, lady. What it\nmeans I can not tell.\u201d\n\nHe called his servants, telling them to bring in the people who were\ncrying without. When the men returned, they were trembling, and seemed\nquite afraid.\n\n\u201cThere are a hundred voices, but no person is without, only the\nsnow-flakes flying about like living things.\u201d\n\nThen the prince went out himself, and a great search was made all over\nthe grounds of the castle, but not a human being could be found. Still,\neverywhere the voices could be heard, and the snow-flakes thickened,\ntill at last the search was given up.\n\n\u201cIt is the work of magic and evil,\u201d said the consul and all his\nfriends; but the prince offered a great reward to any one who would\nfind the beautiful Golden Snow, and all the guests were invited to\nreturn in one week\u2019s time.\n\nAll the week the young prince could think of nothing but the mysterious\nvoices that pursued him, and everywhere his messengers were seeking\nfor the beautiful Golden Snow.\n\nThe consul\u2019s daughter was nearly wild with rage and disappointment.\nOne evening, in the dusky twilight, she went down into the shadows of\na dark ca\u00f1on, and consulted a wicked old witch, who lived in a dismal\ncavern.\n\n\u201cAm I not the fairest of all the maidens in the new world?\u201d she asked,\n\u201cbut what means this cry of \u2018Golden Snow?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are very fair,\u201d answered the old witch, \u201cbut I must read the\nstars.\u201d So she went down into the lowest depths of the ca\u00f1on, and in\nthe bottom of a deep well she read the stars:--\n\n  \u201cThere were maidens fair at the prince\u2019s ball,\n  But Golden Snow is fairer than all.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does it mean?\u201d asked the consul\u2019s daughter, pale and trembling\nwith emotion.\n\n\u201cI will tell you! Golden Snow is the Elixir of Beauty, and if you can\nobtain it, and wash in it, you will become the most enchanting maiden\nin the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere shall I find it? I will give you any thing--any thing for this\nElixir of Beauty.\u201d\n\nThen the witch told her, if she would promise to be her slave one day\nin every month, she would help her to procure the great treasure.\n\n\u201cI can buy the old woman off when I become the bride of the rich\nprince,\u201d thought the young girl. So she promised, and the witch brought\nout a wrinkled yellow parchment, and wrote the contract. Piercing\nthe maiden\u2019s arm, she dipped the pen in the blood, and the consul\u2019s\ndaughter signed it with a trembling hand.\n\n\u201cThat is good,\u201d said the old witch, her red eyes glaring at the maiden.\n\u201cNow you must go to the summit of the black mountain, just over the\nprince\u2019s mine, and bring me a quart of the snow that has drifted round\nthe roots of the blasted pine. All your gold and jewelry you must\nbring, and, at twelve o\u2019clock to-morrow night, come to the cavern, and\nI will give you the Elixir of Beauty, the wonderful golden snow.\u201d\n\nThe consul\u2019s daughter took off all her jewelry, necklace, bracelets,\nand all the gold she had she gave to the old witch. Then she toiled up\nthe steep mountain, and at last, weary and worn, returned with the snow\nfrom the roots of the blasted pine.\n\nWhen the young girl had left the cavern, the woman bent over the\nblazing fire, with alembic and crucible. \u201cWho can tell the wonderful\nmystery,\u201d she muttered to herself, as the liquid boiled up yellow as\ngold. \u201cI myself will wash in it, and become young and fair again.\u201d\n\nThe night came on in darkness, and at eleven o\u2019clock the old witch\ncarried the liquid out in the chill air, and with her red eyes, that\ncould see best in the darkness, watched it as it changed in form, till,\njust as the bell in the church tower rung out twelve, she saw before\nher the Elixir of Beauty, the magic golden snow.\n\nJust at that moment she heard the voice of the consul\u2019s daughter\ncalling, \u201cIt is so dark, I cannot see; give me your hand, and lead me\nto the Elixir of Beauty. I have dared so much for it! I am almost dead\nwith fright.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn a moment,\u201d answered the old woman, and she slipped the golden snow\ninto a crevice in the rock, leaving only a little for the maiden.\nReaching out her hand, she led the trembling girl into the cavern, and,\ntaking an ivory box, filled it with pure white snow. Sprinkling over it\nthe remnant of the Elixir of Beauty, she gave it to the maiden, saying,\n\u201cWash in it, and you will become as lovely as the dawn.\u201d\n\nWhen the young girl opened the box, it looked to her yellow and shiny,\nfor the old witch had cast a glamour over it, so she went away quite\nsatisfied.\n\nShe concealed her treasure in her private closet, and every night,\nafter all in the house had retired, she washed her face, and, because\nthere was the remnant of the Elixir of Beauty in it, she became fairer\nevery day. All who saw her wondered, and said, \u201cSurely the consul\u2019s\ndaughter is the most beautiful maiden!\u201d\n\nThrough the whole week the herald of the prince rode over the Gold\nLand, everywhere seeking for Golden Snow. Once he passed the\nfisherman\u2019s cottage, but that morning the fisher folk and their adopted\nchild had gone down to the beach. As chance would have it, they missed\nthe messenger.\n\nAgain the castle was illuminated, and the guests were assembled.\n\nThere were beautiful maidens, but the consul\u2019s daughter shone like\nthe morning. Again the heart of the prince re-echoed the wondering\nadmiration of the guests, and his deep dark eyes flashed with a strange\nmagnetic fire.\n\nAs the evening advanced, it grew warm, with the great lights flashing\neverywhere, and the delicious notes of the music vibrating and\nthrilling in every form.\n\n\u201cDo not open the windows,\u201d entreated the consul\u2019s daughter, \u201cfor the\nsnow-flakes are drifting with the wind, and the night air is chill.\u201d\nA shudder passed over her, so they opened only the doors of the grand\nsaloon. But one of the warm and weary dancers went out secretly, and\nopened the carved oval window of the great hall. Then, louder than\never, the clear voices floated into the hall, and in all the winding\ncorridors found a hundred echoes, till the whole castle reverberated\nwith them:--\n\n  \u201cThe consul\u2019s daughter is fair, we know,\n  But not like the princess Golden Snow.\n  There are lovely maids at the castle ball,\n  But Golden Snow is fairer than all.\u201d\n\nThe consul\u2019s daughter was again frantic with rage; her eyes glared with\nfury, and her face grew frightful with the heat of passion. The dream\nhad passed forever from the heart of the prince, and he wondered that,\nonly a moment before, he had thought the face, so contorted with anger,\nbeautiful as a painter\u2019s bright ideal.\n\nEverywhere they searched, but could find no one, so, while the mystery\ndeepened, the ball ended.\n\nIn the morning, the prince mounted a fine black horse, and started off\nas for a long journey. For months he wandered over the northern Gold\nLand, seeking everywhere the princess Golden Snow.\n\nAt last, when he had given up all hope, and was returning disappointed\nto the castle, he chanced to ride by the fisherman\u2019s cottage. The old\nfisher folk sat in the corner mending a net, and Golden Snow, in her\nrich, marvelous voice, was singing to them one of the songs of the sea.\nThe prince stopped his horse and listened, drinking in every note of\nthe delicious melody. When it was ended, he dismounted, and, leading\nhis horse by the bridle, knocked at the door, and the good-wife opened\nit.\n\n\u201cTell me, good mother, who it was singing, for, in all my life, never a\nvoice came so into my heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was the princess Golden Snow,\u201d answered the old woman, proudly.\n\nThe prince entered, and saw Golden Snow in all her matchless grace and\nbeauty. Around her head was her crown of shining hair, decked with\nbrilliants, and a mantle of the richest fur covered her. She had only\njust returned from the sea-shore, with the rich flush of exercise upon\nher cheek, and her eyes were beaming with the rare beauty of her gentle\nspirit.\n\nThe fisherman rose to meet the young prince, who told him, in his\nhandsome, manly way, how all over the north land he had been seeking\nfor the princess Golden Snow; and how at last, when hope was almost\ndying, he had found the treasure.\n\nThe old man listened gravely; then he placed the white hand of the\nmaiden in the young man\u2019s strong, true palm, saying, \u201cNot because you\nare a Russian prince, but because you are one of God\u2019s noblemen, I give\nyou my dear child. Take her, for in her loving heart she is the most\nbeautiful maiden.\u201d\n\nThus the young people were betrothed in the cottage of the good fisher\nfolk, and, when the news spread over the country, there was great\nrejoicing. They were married at the old church, where the stones are\ncovered with lichens, and many a poor man\u2019s heart was made glad by the\ngenerosity of the prince that day.\n\nThe consul\u2019s daughter was too angry to join in the festivities, but\nall the former guests of the castle were there, and among them sat the\nfisher folk in the place of honor.\n\nAll over the northern Gold Land flew the joyous snow-flakes, dancing at\nthe wedding of their princess.\n\nEverywhere in the grand saloon, and through the winding corridors of\nthe castle, with strains of rich music mingled the clear mysterious\nvoices:--\n\n  \u201cAll the north land now shall know,\n  The most beautiful maiden is Golden Snow.\n  We are her sisters, snow-flakes white,\n  She is the princess of golden light.\u201d\n\nThus all were happy, save the consul\u2019s daughter, whose pride and rage\ndevoured her. For one day every month she was doomed to be the slave of\nthe wicked old witch, which was wretchedness. At last, one night, when\nher tasks had been too hard for endurance, from her great weariness and\nsickness of heart, she cried out, \u201cO Lord Christ, forgive and pity me!\u201d\n\nThen the old witch gave a wild shriek of madness, and disappeared in\nthe black shadows of the ca\u00f1on forever.\n\nBecause she had hidden part of the golden snow, by this prayer the\nmaiden was delivered out of her hands.\n\nThe selfish pride of the consul\u2019s daughter was humbled, and she grew so\ngentle and good, that all, even the poor and dependent, learned to love\nher, so that she, too, became, in heart, a beautiful maiden.\n\n\n\n\nGRACIA AND CATRINA.\n\n\nNear the Mission of San Diego lived a very wealthy Spaniard and his\nwife, the most beautiful se\u00f1ora in all the country for many miles\naround.\n\nThey had every thing about them to make life pleasant: a fine orange\nand lemon grove; a large garden, containing olive, almond, peach, and\npear trees; indeed, all kinds of fruit and flowers, that the luxurious\nclimate of San Diego produces.\n\nTheir house was pleasant, and furnished with all the comforts and\nmany of the luxuries of life; and when God blessed them with a little\ndaughter, they felt as though there was nothing left to wish for. The\nchild resembled her beautiful mamma in features as much as the tiny\nbud is like the full-blown rose.\n\nThe hidalgo had never ceased to regard his wife with that kind of\nworshipful love so dear to woman\u2019s heart; and his great delight was\nto watch tenderly over mother and child, that even the slightest wish\nmight not pass ungratified.\n\nAs it grew older, the little one learned to recognize the glance of\nlove; and when at last it would open its large dark eyes and look\neagerly at the dear papa, and, holding out its tiny hands, crow with\nall the innocent delight of infancy, he would take the babe in his\narms, and all the harsh lines about his mouth softened into smiles. He\nwas happier than any one in the whole country, except the delighted\nmother, who was never weary of looking upon the darling of her heart.\n\n[Illustration: _Gracia and Catrina._]\n\nThe se\u00f1ora was a devout Catholic, and, though she seldom left the\nchild alone with her nurse, as the feast of Corpus Christi approached,\nshe felt that this year, above all others so blessed to her in the\nbirth of her beloved child, she should assist in the celebration. On\nthe morning of the holy day, she gave her treasure, with many charges,\ninto the care of the old servant, bidding her on no account whatever to\nleave the child, even for a moment. Twice, as she was about leaving,\nshe returned to embrace the little one, with her soft eyes filled with\ntears. As she covered the face of her babe with kisses, she whispered,\n\u201cMamma loves thee. _Mijita mia._ Foolish mamma trembles to leave thee,\nyet the divine eye of the Holy Mother will watch over thee. _Mia vida,\nmia vida!_\u201d Then came the sound of music, and the voice of the hidalgo\ncalling her; so with a last embrace, with mingled smiles and tears,\nthe young mother parted from her little one, for the first time since\nits birth.\n\nThere was to be a large procession formed upon the plaza, where rustic\nbooths were built, and ornamented according to the taste and wealth of\nthe devout, who often sacrificed the comfort of weeks, to be able to\ngive this tribute of honor to the Holy Mother and the Blessed Christ.\n\nPictures of the Madonna were placed upon the rude altars, entwined with\nbeautiful wreaths, while rare flowers shed their rich incense from\ncostly vases. The se\u00f1ora had spared neither money nor pains.\n\n\u201cIt is in honor of the Merciful Christ--the Redeemer of the world,\u201d she\nsaid; \u201clet every thing be as worthy of His greatness as possible; it\nwill fall far short of what my thankful heart would offer.\u201d\n\nPictures from the hands of the old masters were brought from the\nhouse, with tapestry and fringes; and every thing that the luxurious\nclimate produced was added, until nothing seemed wanting to make it the\none booth of enchanting beauty.\n\nThe se\u00f1ora superintended the arrangement of all, while the se\u00f1or sat a\nlittle apart, watching with delight the magic workings of her exquisite\ntaste and refinement. All this time the nurse held the infant in her\narms, singing quaint old Indian ballads, rocking her to and fro with a\nsoothing motion, till at last the restless fingers were stilled and the\npretty eyes closed. The little one slept, and dreamed, no doubt, such\ndreams as the loving God sends to guileless infancy.\n\nJust then the procession started, and the music fell upon the ear of\nthe young Indian girl who was always near to wait upon old Macata, the\nnurse.\n\n\u201cMacata,\u201d she said, as she started lightly from the mat on which she\nwas sitting, \u201cit touches my heart; I must go! See, the baby sleeps.\nNothing can harm it. Come, mother Macata, only for a moment!\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing can harm it,\u201d said the old Indian, as she laid the child in\nits little straw cradle, for she, too, loved the festive sight and glad\nmusic of the _f\u00eate_.\n\nShe had wished, of all things, to join the gossips of the mission on\nthe plaza, but, since that could not be, she saw no reason, while\nthe child was sleeping so sweetly, that she should not go to the\ngarden wall, and for a few moments catch a passing glimpse of the gay\nprocession. She bent over the child, patting it softly with her great\nstrong hand, and singing in a low voice:--\n\n  \u201cSleep! baby, sleep!\n  While I softly creep\n  To the roadside near;\n  Sleep, baby, dear.\u201d\n\nThe little form was so still and peaceful. Surely there could be no\ndanger! So the nurse, who loved her dearly, knelt down and kissed her\nvery lightly, saying, in the Indian tongue,\n\n\u201cMaster of life, preserve the little white rosebud.\u201d\n\nAgain she pressed her dusky lips to the sweet little face, so peaceful\nin its innocent repose, then ran away through the garden to the\nroadside, with her companion, the bright-eyed Indian girl.\n\nIt was a rare sight in the eyes of these simple Indians, that long\nprocession, with its swelling music and waving banners. All the Indian\nlads and maidens in the country were there, dressed in their gala\nattire, while the bright-colored handkerchiefs and shawls of the more\nrustic se\u00f1oras, as they rode by on horseback, added not a little to\nthe festive scene.\n\nFor full fifteen minutes they sat watching the procession, crouching\nbehind the garden wall, that the se\u00f1ora might not see them. Well they\nknew her eyes would be attracted by the magnetism of love to her child\nand home.\n\n\u201cSee, mother Macata,\u201d said the young girl, sorrowfully, \u201cthere are all\nmy mates, while I am here. Oh! how I wish I could go with them!\u201d\n\nJust then the se\u00f1ora passed, and, mid all the joy of the occasion,\nMacata saw a look of deep solicitude in her face as she turned toward\nthe house. \u201cWe must go,\u201d said the old woman, taking the hand of the\nyoung girl.\n\n\u201cOnly one moment,\u201d replied the maiden; and while old Macata yielded,\nshe could not suppress an emotion of uneasiness which the se\u00f1ora\u2019s\nlook had nervously roused.\n\n\u201cNow! now!\u201d said the old woman, nervously, as again she clasped the\nhand of the girl, and dragged her away from the attractive scene.\n\n\u201cYou know the baby sleeps,\u201d said the girl, pettishly; but Macata, in\nher uneasiness, hurried onward.\n\nThey passed through the pleasant garden into the silent house, and the\nsoftly shaded room where they had left the sleeping child. There stood\nthe dainty little cradle, but the child was gone!\n\nAt first they thought some of the servants had returned and taken it to\nsome other room; but when they had searched the whole house, and ran,\ncalling in vain, through the garden, they were almost wild with fright.\n\nTears streamed from the eyes of the young girl as she looked\nhelplessly into the face of old Macata, who tore her long hair, and\nmoaned piteously. She could not cease looking, although it seemed\nhopeless.\n\n\u201cIn so short a time to disappear, and leave no trace behind to aid this\nsearch!\u201d The child! The poor little innocent child she loved so dearly,\ngone, she knew not where! How could she meet the father and mother?\n\nThus, full of despair, she ran about, looking in vain, and calling\nwildly upon her darling, until the se\u00f1or and his wife returned.\n\nTo picture the scene that followed would be impossible. The torturing\ngrief of the unhappy father was mingled with all the terrors of\nsuspense, and the desolate heart of the sorrowing mother refused to\nbe comforted. Day and night she sobbed bitterly, \u201cWould that God had\ntaken my baby to himself!\u201d\n\nThe whole country was roused. The search continued for many days, till\nhope died out in every heart. Then it was that a fearful fever seized\nthe mother, exhausted by grief, want of sleep, and the fatigues of a\nhopeless search. For weeks her life was despaired of; and when at last\nthe fever left her, the light had gone from her eye, the smile from her\nlips, and the hope of happiness from her heart.\n\nThe old Macata never left her side. At first the mother shuddered when\nshe came near; but as she looked upon the hair of the old woman, which,\nsince the loss of the child, had become white as the driven snow, her\nheart softened, and she shed her first tears upon the bosom of the\npenitent and sorrowing nurse.\n\nFor many weeks the luxury of tears had been denied her, and, from that\nfirst bursting of the flood-gates of her grief, she could not bear the\nold Indian long out of her sight. A mutual sorrow bound their hearts\ntogether.\n\nMacata could never do enough for the dear, sad se\u00f1ora, but sometimes\nshe would go to her, saying, \u201cBless me now, se\u00f1ora dear; I am going to\nlook for our baby.\u201d\n\nThen the se\u00f1ora would bless her, and say, \u201cGo, my poor Macata.\u201d\n\nAll day long she roamed through woods, down deep into the shadowy\nca\u00f1ons, or upon the mountain tops. After weary hours, and sometimes\ndays, of fruitless search, she would return, worn and heart-broken with\nher vain wanderings. Kneeling before the se\u00f1ora, weeping, and wringing\nher hands, she would cry, \u201cOh! dear se\u00f1ora, forgive me! I have not\nfound our baby. I lost it, but I will find it. I will find it before I\ndie, so help me, Wacondah, Great Spirit!\u201d\n\nOften the old woman fell fainting at the feet of her beloved se\u00f1ora,\nwho would have her raised tenderly and placed upon the bed, where for\nhours she sat by her, watching and weeping.\n\nThus these two sorrowing ones, the broken-hearted mother and the\ngrief-crazed nurse, became very dear to each other.\n\nThe father mourned deeply, but to the heart of man time brings its\nsoftening balm. He loved his wife fondly, and, for her sake, sometimes\ntried to waken a hope that the child might be restored to them. Yet\nwithin his shadowed heart he mourned the precious one as dead.\n\nVery sadly he missed the tiny outstretched hands that once were sure\nto greet him, and that radiant little face that was all the world to\nhim; and as months and years went by, whenever he looked upon a little\nmaiden full of grace and beauty, he would press his hand to his heart\nin sorrow, for \u201cwhat might have been.\u201d\n\nSometimes the se\u00f1ora, leaning her weary head on his breast, would\nsay: \u201cI shall know my darling, no matter how many years shall pass\nbefore we meet.\u201d Then she would clasp her hands, exclaiming: \u201cWhat if\nI should die before Macata finds her? Then, oh! then, I shall know\nher in heaven,\u201d she would bow her head lower upon the beloved breast\nin prayer. Thus she would remain till the tender voice of the hidalgo\naroused her; then she would clasp her thin hands about his neck, and\nlook pityingly into his eyes to see the sorrow of her heart reflected\nthere.\n\nThus it was with the parents as the years passed sadly by, but all the\nwhile the seasons went and came again; the sunshine gladdened the\nearth; the rainbow beautified the shower; the flowers blossomed in the\ngarden; and young hearts beat happily as theirs upon their bridal day.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn that bright morning of the _f\u00eate_ of Corpus Christi, which resulted\nso unfortunately for the hidalgo and the poor se\u00f1ora, Macata had not\nnoticed that the garden gate was left unlocked, nor in her haste did\nshe see the crouching form of a fierce-looking woman hiding behind the\nlime-tree.\n\nNo sooner was she and the young girl out of sight than the woman rose\nstealthily, and gathering up her coarse brown cloak around her, glided\nswiftly through the garden and into the room where the cradle stood,\nstill moving from the parting motion of Macata\u2019s hand. Glancing hastily\naround, she snatched up the still sleeping child, and wrapping it in\nthe folds of her cloak, ran out of the garden, away from the road, on\nthrough the orange-grove, and before Macata and the girl returned, was\nfar away out of sight.\n\nStill on she went, through the vineyard, and over the hill beyond; nor\ndid she pause for a moment after she entered the thick wood, until\nmiles away in the dusk of the evening, deep down in a ca\u00f1on she came to\na rude cottage overhung with trees and rocks.\n\nAll day long the delicate child had been out in the burning sunshine,\ntasting nothing but a tortilla moistened in water.\n\nWhen they entered the cottage she had cried herself to sleep, and her\nlittle head rested wearily upon the bosom of the woman who had stolen\nher from her mother and her happy home.\n\nOn the floor sat a little girl shelling beans. She was a poor,\nmisshapen child of misfortune, with a sad mark of suffering upon her\nface, which, when the woman entered, deepened.\n\n\u201cTake this child, Catrina. Put it away anywhere--anywhere out of sight.\nIt is hateful to me.\u201d Then throwing off the brown cloak, and rubbing\nher hands, she drew near the fire, adding: \u201cBe in a hurry, girl. Give\nme my supper, for I am tired and hungry.\u201d\n\nThe young girl had taken the little one and laid it upon the bed, and,\nthough there was an expression of surprise upon her face, she placed\nthe supper upon the table without speaking. Then, placing chairs, she\nand the woman sat down together. Still not a word was spoken. By and\nby, after they had eaten, and the dishes were washed, the hearth swept,\nand more fagots heaped upon the fire, the girl pointed to the sleeping\nchild.\n\n\u201cLet her be,\u201d said the woman, crossly. \u201cI can not support you in\nidleness. Go shell your beans.\u201d\n\nThe girl placed a cup of milk at the fire, sat down again to her task,\nand, for a long time, nothing was heard but the crackling pods. At\nlength the woman spoke.\n\n\u201cIt is little use in talking to you, Catrina: but I must speak\nsometimes, and you are the only being I have, about me, and you can not\ntell what I say. You can not remember, Catrina! Many years ago I was\nbeautiful; I was young. Now I am old, not with years! See this hair\nonce so glossy--look at it.\u201d\n\nShe caught out the comb with an angry grasp, and all over her neck and\nshoulders fell the heavy tangles of long, gray hair.\n\n\u201cI was young, beautiful, and beloved. Oh, it seems an age of years\nago! I have been so wretched since. That child\u2019s father caused his\ndeath! I lived! God knows how till your father came, and I married him.\nFor love? Oh, no, for the poor protection that woman\u2019s nature craves\nand a shelter from despair. But even this failed me!\n\n\u201cWhat a life for both! But I am revenged, ha! ha! They will wait long\nfor their pretty darling, now.\u201d The woman laughed wildly, and such\na look of hate and exultation covered her face, that, in the fitful\nfire-light, was almost fiendish.\n\nCatrina dropped her hands on her lap, and shuddered, while her eyes\nwere fixed upon the wretched woman with a kind of fascination.\n\n\u201cGo to work! go to work! I say, you stupid little witch, what are you\nstaring at? You look as if you were frightened out of the little sense\nyou have.\u201d\n\nAgain the woman laughed a strange laugh, that grated harshly upon the\near of the unfortunate girl. Tears filled her eyes, but still no reply.\n\nPoor child! she had never spoken one word in her short but sorrowful\nlife. She was only the poor little step-daughter of the woman, and\nsince the death of her father she had been unhappy.\n\nThe noise had awakened the little one, and opening her large eyes, she\nlooked around first with wonder, and then with fear, at the strange\nplace and strange faces before her. The woman rose and took her in her\narms.\n\n\u201cSo, little chick, you are awake, and how do you think your lady mamma\nfeels now, and your proud papa? Ha! ha! he never thought how I felt,\nwhen years ago he brought death to my heart, nor will I think of him.\u201d\n\nSlowly she began swaying the child to and fro, talking fiercely all\nthe while. The tiny lips of the baby quivered, as, for a moment, she\nsuppressed her cry, then a pitiful wail filled the cottage.\n\nCatrina was preparing the bowl of bread and milk, and as she\napproached, the little one held out her hands, and when Catrina took\nher she hid her face in her bosom and sobbed softly. The child was\nhungry, and as the girl offered her the bread and milk, she ate it\neagerly, but all the while her frightened gaze was fixed upon the face\nof the woman, who seemed to grow uneasy before the pitiful terror of\nthose innocent eyes.\n\n\u201cIt is always so now. Even this child shrinks from me, and I don\u2019t mean\nto harm her. She has her bread and milk here, if it is not in a silver\nbowl. Ah! my heart is of stone, now--of stone!\u201d and instinctively she\nfolded her arms over her bosom, and, rocking herself, gazed into the\nfire as though she were reading the future in its fitful embers.\n\nNo wonder that the child, used only to tenderness, looked fearfully\nupon that pale, dark face, grown prematurely old. Her hair still hung\nover her shoulders, a long and tangled mass, all its purple luster,\nall its beauty gone forever. There was a strange, wild look about the\neyes, and under them a dark, sunken circle. Far into the night she sat\nbrooding over the glowing embers, till they were turned to blackened\ncinders.\n\nThat night Catrina had a more pleasant dream than she had known since\nher father died.\n\nAfter the little one had eaten her supper, Catrina undressed her, and\nwrapping her in a blanket, placed her in her own bed, patting her\ncaressingly with her hand till she fell asleep.\n\nCatrina lay down beside her, and soon she dreamed that an angel came\nto the cottage and changed the darkness to light, that even her\nstep-mother\u2019s face grew gentle and tender, and her voice soft and\nlow in that blessed presence. Her own weary heart grew light, and as\nshe looked fondly at this angel, full of gratitude for her new-born\nhappiness, she saw only the child before her, but clearly she heard\nthese words, in the well-remembered tones of her father\u2019s voice,\nsaying:--\n\n\u201cThis child shall be the angel of the house.\u201d She awoke to find her\nface bathed in tears, and kissed the baby a hundred times, and in her\nsilence prayed God to bless the darling.\n\nAlready the joy of an angel\u2019s presence filled her heart. Poor little\nCatrina! She was only a child of ten years, yet her face looked\npinched, old, and careworn. This was not strange for the work of the\ncottage fell to her small hands, and there was no one to say: \u201cYou have\ndone well, my little Catrina.\u201d\n\nShe could not remember her own gentle mother, nor when the step-mother\ncame to them, but she never forgot the sad face of the dear papa, when\nhe used to put his hand upon her tangled hair, saying: \u201cCatrina, you\nwill miss papa; no one else but my poor little desolate _Mijita mia,\nMijita mia_.\u201d Then he would turn to hide the tears that would not be\ndriven back. In those days of illness he was helpless as Catrina in her\nbabyhood.\n\nOne day, when the step-mother had been gone since the dawning, the\nfather seemed to sleep, Catrina sat very silently for many hours, for\nyoung as she was, she did not wish to disturb poor sick papa when\nsleeping. She grew very weary, but still he did not wake; so she ran\nsoftly to the bedside, and looked at him till her heart grew faint. He\nlay so still, and was very pale; and when she climbed up and laid her\nlittle face against his, she shuddered and wept bitterly, it was so\nvery cold. After a while the step-mother returned. Soon some men came\nand took the father away, and though they looked very rough, one of\nthem stopped and gave her a tortilla, saying: \u201cPoor little young one,\nshe has lost her best friend.\u201d\n\nAs soon as the little girl could do any thing, the step-mother gave her\nplenty of work. Thus the years went by till the eve of the _f\u00eate_ of\nCorpus Christi, when baby Gracia was brought to the cottage.\n\nIt seemed like the dawn of a new life to the lonely Catrina to look\ninto that sweet baby face, and when the little one learned to love her\nand cry for her, though she found her task much heavier, her heart grew\nso light that her little hands worked wonders.\n\nThe woman took off the pretty coral necklace and sleeve clasps, and all\nthe child\u2019s fine clothes, and placed them in the strong oaken chest at\nthe head of her bed. Little Gracia was dressed in clothes coarse as\nCatrina\u2019s, but still she grew more lovely every day, and looked like a\nlittle princess in her rags.\n\nEven the seared heart of the woman softened to the winning ways of the\npretty child, though sometimes she would drive her away, exclaiming:\n\u201cGo, go from me--I hate the race.\u201d At other times she would take her in\nher arms, saying: \u201cThe baby is not to blame,\u201d and with tears dimming\nher eyes, cover the little face with fond caresses.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus passed five long years at the cottage. Catrina had grown stronger,\nand more shapely. Her face was full of love and tenderness, though\nexposure had made her skin very rough and brown. Gracia had changed\nfrom babyhood to a sportive child, graceful as a young fawn.\n\nOne rainy night the woman came home very late, leaning heavily upon the\narm of an old Indian, who with great difficulty supported her trembling\nsteps. She was very ill, and she felt the cold shadow of death falling\nupon her.\n\nGracia was asleep, but Catrina sat by the fire waiting, and keeping\nthe supper hot. She was frightened when she saw the pale face of the\nstep-mother, and trembled with fear as she helped the Indian to lay\nher upon the bed.\n\nFor a few moments the sick woman was silent from exhaustion, but after\na time she called Catrina to her.\n\n\u201cListen to me, Catrina, for my time is growing short. I have been cruel\nto you at times, but you have been always good and true. Forgive me\nnow, my poor Catrina as you pray the good Lord to forgive you.\u201d\n\nHere the woman grew so faint that she was obliged to stop speaking, and\nCatrina wept as though her heart would break.\n\nPoor girl! she had been hardly used, but she knew no other fate; and\nthough she did not love the step-mother as she did the little Gracia,\nit seemed very desolate to sit there by the dying woman who had given\nher a home, poor though it was. She pressed the cold hand to her lips,\nand buried her head in the bed-clothes.\n\n\u201cOh! that child!\u201d gasped the wretched woman. \u201cCatrina, I have no time\nto lose. I see every thing so differently.\n\n\u201cI have been crazy, but all is clear now. Catrina, when you think of me\nremember me only as a poor suffering woman, and forgive me, as you hope\nfor God\u2019s mercy.\n\n\u201cBut the child! in that trunk you will find her clothes and papers\nwhich will prove her birth. Her father is a good and true man, as I\nhave learned this day. My life\u2019s great wrong came from another\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cPromise me, Catrina, that you will never rest till you have restored\nher to her home, and the parents who love her.\u201d\n\nThe step-mother\u2019s words grew fainter, but her eyes, full of the\nbrightness of expiring fires, were fixed upon Catrina, who reverently\nmade the sign of the cross, and bowed her head in solemn acquiescence.\n\n\u201cCatrina,\u201d she continued, \u201cgo up to the ca\u00f1on, keeping to the right,\nthen over the mountain path, till you come to the great wood.\u201d A spasm\nof pain convulsed her, and she ceased speaking. In a few moments it\npassed away, and a calm happy smile settled upon her face.\n\n\u201cI repent of all my sins; I forgive even the murderer of him who was\ndearer than my life. Now, may God have mercy upon my soul.\u201d\n\nThe husky voice was hushed, the clasped hands relaxed, and the\nsuffering woman was dead!\n\n\u201cShe has gone to the land of the Great Spirit, and He has blessed her,\u201d\nsaid the Indian, filled with amazement to see the troubled face grow so\ncalm in death.\n\nThey buried her in the shadow of the deep ca\u00f1on, and the children were\nleft alone. The kind Indian came every day to the cottage to look after\nthem, bringing always a bag of tortillas and fruits.\n\nOne morning, about a week after the death of the step-mother, he found\nCatrina and Gracia just leaving the cottage. As he gave Catrina the\ntortillas she shook his hand long and kindly, and the tears glistened\nin her eyes, but she could not speak to tell him she was going away,\nnever to rest, until she had led Gracia back to her home.\n\nFor many days the Indian returned with his bag of tortillas, and went\nsadly away, for the cottage was alone in the dusky shadows.\n\nThe children took the path to the right out of the ca\u00f1on, then on up\nthe steep mountain way. Catrina carried Gracia\u2019s baby-clothes in her\narms, and a large bag of tortillas, for she had eaten sparingly for a\nweek, that she might have food for a long journey.\n\nAfter awhile Gracia became weary, and then Catrina took her in her\narms, though they seemed full, but the willing heart found a ready way\nto help her darling.\n\nAt last they reached the top of the mountain, so very worn and weary,\nthat after they had eaten their dinners, Gracia fell heavily upon\nCatrina\u2019s lap, but she could no longer support the weight of the child;\nso, folding her in her arms, they lay down upon the soft turf together\nand slept as soundly as though it had been a bed of down.\n\nThe shadows were growing very long when the young girls awoke, and\nall the west was glowing with fleecy amber clouds. The sunset in the\nclear pure atmosphere of the mountains seemed so much more rich and\nbeautiful than in the dim ca\u00f1on, that little Gracia\u2019s eyes shone with\ndelight.\n\n\u201cOh! Catrina,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201csurely that is the glorious heaven we\nsee before us. Do you not remember what the good padre told us, when\nhe came to the cottage? Let us hurry, Catrina, \u2019tis not so very far.\nPerhaps we can get there before dark.\u201d\n\nCatrina caught the hand of the excited child, and making the sign of\nthe cross, knelt down with her face toward the sunset, and prayed for\nthe soul of the unhappy step-mother, for the little Gracia, whom she\nloved dearly, and last of all for herself.\n\nThe radiance of the sunset fell upon the poor dumb girl, and shed its\nshining beauty upon her face. When Catrina arose, Gracia looked at her\nwith eyes full of eager wonder.\n\n\u201cHow God loves you, Catrina,\u201d she whispered. \u201cHe threw his glory all\naround you when you prayed.\u201d Catrina smiled and kissed the child, and\ngiving her a tortilla, they began to descend the mountain, but the\ntwilight came on so fast that very soon they could hardly see their way.\n\nGracia clasped Catrina\u2019s hand very closely, saying: \u201cI should be afraid\nin the dark, only God loves you so much, and heaven is so near.\u201d\n\nThus they went on as long as they could see, and then sat down in the\ndarkness, and by and by slept again.\n\nCatrina woke early in the morning, and seeing a lime-tree not far\ndistant, covered with fruit, left Gracia sleeping, and ran to gather\nsome. \u201cIt will be so nice with our dry tortillas,\u201d she thought; \u201cand\ndear Gracia will be pleased with the juicy fruit.\u201d\n\nShe made great haste, fearing lest the child might wake, and be\nfrightened at her absence, and in a short time she returned with her\napron filled with the delicious fruit. Her face lighted with the smile\nof grateful love, as she saw the little girl still sleeping sweetly. A\nmoment more and the happy smile was turned to an expression of intense\nhorror.\n\nOnly a few feet from the child crouched the huge form of an immense\ncougar, his fierce eyes gloating with hungry fire upon his helpless\nprey.\n\nCatrina remained transfixed for a moment, watching the wild beast,\nuntil he crouched to spring upon her darling; she then threw her arms\nover her head, rushed forward, and by what means, God knows, her\nintense terror burst the prison-bonds of sound, and the dumb girl gave\none wild, shrill cry, that made the mountains echo.\n\nJust at that moment came a sharp flash of light, and the cougar lay\nweltering in his blood.\n\nThe startled Gracia woke to find Catrina lying as one dead upon the\nground, and a handsome young boy coming forward to help them. The\nlittle girl was much frightened, and, weeping bitterly, she threw her\narms around Catrina and called piteously,--\n\n\u201cOh, Catrina! Catrina! open your eyes; do not leave me, Catrina; God\nloves you, He has called you!\u201d\n\nThen Catrina opened her eyes, and said, with imperfect utterance,\n\u201cDon\u2019t cry, my darling. The cougar is dead. Don\u2019t cry; he will not hurt\nyou.\u201d And she kissed Gracia, and cried as hard as the child.\n\n\u201cYou! Catrina, you speak!\u201d exclaimed little Gracia, as soon as she\ncould speak, for Catrina\u2019s caresses.\n\n\u201cYou speak, who never spoke in your life. The good God heard your\nprayer last night. He shed His glory upon you, and now you speak.\u201d They\nembraced each other, and wept for joy.\n\nThen they noticed the handsome boy standing near them, resting upon his\ngun, and Catrina pressed his hand to her lips, and thanked him again\nand again.\n\nThey all went to look at the cougar together, and Catrina told the\nwondering Gracia how very near to heaven she had been, and young Leon\nDe Lande told them both how he had started by moonlight to hunt in the\nmountains, and how he thanked God he had been able to save the little\nse\u00f1orita.\n\nThey sat down to eat their tortillas and fruit, and then started for\nthe valley. Poor Catrina! How delightful to be able to talk, though she\nneeded practice to be able to speak plainly.\n\nShe was like a little child just learning, but she managed to let Leon\nknow all about Gracia, and he, with delighted surprise, told her that\nhe knew her father, who was the richest se\u00f1or in all the country, and\nthat in a few hours they could reach the vineyard.\n\nNever were there happier young people than went down the mountain\ntogether. As they entered the wood, whom should they meet but poor old\nnurse, Macata, hunting for her lost darling.\n\n\u201cI have found the little se\u00f1orita for you, good Macata,\u201d said Leon.\nMacata gave one glance at Gracia, then caught her in her arms,\nexclaiming, \u201c_Ninita mia! Ninita mia! Waconda!_ the Master of Life has\nheard my cry! I knew you were not lost for ever.\u201d\n\nThe old Indian started off at full speed, carrying Gracia in her arms,\nsobbing all the time, and blessing the Great Spirit that she had lived\nto restore the lost child to the dear se\u00f1ora.\n\nLeon and Catrina could barely keep pace with her, but at last they\nentered the very room, where, five years before, the beautiful child\nlay sleeping in her little willow cradle.\n\n\u201cI have brought her back, se\u00f1ora,\u201d cried old Macata, out of breath.\n\u201cIt is our little white bud, se\u00f1ora, dear! Oh! _Alma mia! Mijita mia_,\nWaconda has not forgotten us!\u201d The old woman placed the child in the\nmother\u2019s arms, and fell with her face upon the floor, weeping for joy.\n\nNo words can tell the joy that filled the house. Only the heart of the\nfather and mother could feel how greatly God had blessed them.\n\nNow the years went pleasantly by. The good Catrina become a lovely\nmaiden. Her form gained strength and beauty. Her hair grew soft and\nglossy; her skin clear and smooth, and her brown eyes were tender with\nthe light of happiness. But, most wonderful of all, her voice was\na marvel of sweetness. It was a great pleasure to hear her sing at\nevening, accompanied by the soft music of her light guitar. She was\nloved by all, but especially so by the young hidalgo, who won her for\nhis bride.\n\nLeon and Gracia danced together at the wedding, and it was plain enough\nto see how devoted the brave young se\u00f1or was to the graceful se\u00f1orita\nwhose life he had saved.\n\nGracia had grown more and more beautiful every year, till in all the\ncountry she was called _La Bonita_.\n\nShe had many admirers, but the se\u00f1or said, \u201cYoung Leon restored her to\nus, and to him only will we give our child.\u201d Thus, upon her sixteenth\nbirthday, the great wedding feast was made, and all San Diego around\nre-echoed the great joy. There were tables spread under the lime-trees\nfor the poor, and all the country was there.\n\nIn the quaint adobe church the marriage ceremony was performed, and\nwith a happy heart Leon received his bride, while the father and mother\nthanked God for His most blessed gifts, their son and daughter. Thus\nall their sorrows ended, and all their lives were circled by the light\nof happiness and love.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DANCING SUNBEAM.\n\n\nIn a dark, narrow street of the city stood a dingy tenement house. Many\npeople lived within, and called it by the dear name of home; yet it\nwas very different from the luxurious homes of the rich, surrounded by\npleasant gardens, filled with costly pictures, and a thousand beautiful\nthings very delightful to possess. Nor was it like the comfortable\nhomes of the middle class, where the fire burns brightly in the\npolished grate, and the table is always plentifully spread. Oh, no! The\npeople in the tenement house were all poor, from the first floor front\nto the attic back, which was the worst of all.\n\nIt was the rainy season, and through the roof, round the chimney, and\nbetween the cracked and loosened weather-boards, came the driving rain.\n\nThen there was a continual opening and shutting of doors; and at\nthe common entrance, all day long and far into the night, there was\nsomebody always coming in, or going out, letting in the chilling blast,\nthat rushed through the muddy halls, and into the rooms, pinching the\nsick and old in a pitiless way.\n\nAltogether, it was not a pleasant place to live in; but most of the\npeople in the tenement house had always been poor, and had learned to\nbe content with what the day brought them, so they were not hungry.\nOnly one in the house had known the luxury of being very rich, and she\nwas now the poorest of them all.\n\nJust under the roof she sat, wearily stitching upon the coarse work\nthat must bring bread to her little child. How the rain pattered\nand clattered upon the roof, as the daintily-bred woman bent above\nher unaccustomed task, thinking over the old thoughts, that made the\npresent more than desolate.\n\n\u201cIt was not so once,\u201d said the rain. \u201cThe old home, how comfortable and\nbeautiful it was! There you were a fair lady with lily-white hands;\nnow, you are the same, only one can not think so. There are silver\nthreads in your hair, and your hands are too red. People say: \u2018What a\npity the woman with the pretty child is so poor!\u2019 but they do not help\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe old home! the old home!\u201d echoed the sad thoughts all day long and\ninto the still hours of the night.\n\nIn the corner of the room sat a little child, playing with a doll, made\nof an old apron; yet, to the child it was \u201cthe pretty Dolladine.\u201d\n\nShe was very beautiful, with silken white hair, shimmered over with a\ngolden luster. A little garden flower, thrown out by chance upon the\ncommon wayside, yet blossoming in her own sweet beauty, in contrast\nwith every thing around her.\n\nShe was a real princess born, and her coarse, ragged clothes could make\nno difference.\n\nThe work was finished, and, though it was raining still, the mother put\non her worn bonnet to take it home.\n\n\u201cIf the sun would only shine again,\u201d she sighed heavily, looking down\ninto the dismal back alley; \u201cbut I must go.\u201d\n\nShe kissed the child, saying, \u201cBe good, darling--mamma will not be gone\nlong.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be good, mamma,\u201d she answered, \u201cand Dolladine and I will catch\nthe sunshine for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are my only sunshine now,\u201d said the mother, hastening away to\nconceal the tears that would not stay in their hiding-place.\n\nThen the little one was left alone in the attic-room, and began, as she\noften did, to talk to her doll.\n\n\u201cNow, Dolladine,\u201d she said, \u201cmamma is very sad, and sick, I fear, and\nyou and I must make sunshine for her; but how shall we do it? that is\nthe question.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you remember, Dolladine, one day the pretty lady said my hair\nwas beaming sunshine? We must shake it out for poor mamma--we must\nshake it out;\u201d and the little girl began jumping around the room,\nshaking her curls, and singing:--\n\n  \u201cWe will make the bright sunshine,\n    Dolladine, Dolladine;\n  Make for mamma glad sunshine,\n    Dolladine, Dolladine.\u201d\n\nJust then she saw the sunbeams dancing into the room. The rain was\nover, and, on the roof of the next house, a washerwoman was hanging\nout her clothes, which were blowing about in the wind, casting gleams\nof light and shadow upon the little attic window, so that the sunshine\nwent flitting about like the will-o\u2019-the-wisp, for the shadow was\nalways chasing it.\n\nThe child was delighted. \u201cDo you see it, Dolladine,\u201d she said--\u201cthe\nglorious sunshine which the loving God gives us? Now, we must catch it\nfor mamma.\u201d\n\nShe took the doll in her arms, and gave chase to the dancing phantom.\nBut it was no use; just as her little hand was ready to grasp it, it\nflew away.\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t help me enough, Dolladine,\u201d said the child, her little eyes\nfilling with tears.\n\nJust then, a great double-knock came at the door, and, before she\ncould answer it, in walked a little old man, with a very wrinkled face\nand long white beard; a big hat almost covered his face, so that the\nupper part was all in shadow.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing, little chick?\u201d he said, pleasantly; \u201cand where is\nthe mother?\u201d\n\n\u201cMamma has gone to carry home the work,\u201d answered the child, timidly;\n\u201cand Dolladine and I have been making sunshine for her. But, see! it\nflies away!\u201d and again she tried to catch the dancing beams.\n\n\u201cIt often does from older and wiser hands than yours; but how did you\nmake it, fairy?\u201d asked the old man, laughing.\n\n\u201cGod put it in my hair, and I shook it out for dear mamma, who is sick,\nand so tired of the dark days,\u201d replied the little one, again shaking\nher pretty curls, that were luminous with beauty.\n\n\u201cI see!\u201d said the old man. \u201cNow, I am a great magician, and can help\nyou;\u201d and he sang, with a clear, ringing voice:--\n\n  \u201cSunshine, sunshine, flitting and airy,\n  Dwell in the heart of the little fairy;\n  Make her gentle, loving, and mild,\n  Make her the mother\u2019s sunshine child.\u201d\n\nJust at that moment the washerwoman took down a big sheet, and the\nlittle room was flooded with warm, glowing sunshine.\n\n\u201cOh! it is glorious, is it not, Dolladine?\u201d exclaimed the child,\nclapping her hands, and dancing about with pleasure. \u201cMamma will be so\nhappy, and so will Dolladine and I.\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember,\u201d said the old magician, \u201cthat all good comes from the\nloving God, who has blessed you, and made you the sunshine child. You\ncan make the mother and every one very happy, so long as you keep God\u2019s\nsunshine in your heart; but if you forget the blessed Christ, it will\nfly away, and will not be the warm, beautiful light of God\u2019s love, but\nonly the dancing sunshine that always escapes your grasp. And then, how\nsad! you would change to the little stormy-weather child, which would\nbe worse than the darkest winter\u2019s day to the dear mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no, no! I will never forget to bless the good God. It is so\ndelightful to make mamma and every one happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis box,\u201d said the old man, \u201cis full of sunshine; I will give it you\nfor the mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me kiss you, dear magician,\u201d said the child, gently; \u201cI always\nlove anybody who is kind to poor mamma.\u201d\n\nThe old man took the little one in his arms, and kissed her fondly,\nsaying, \u201cGod bless you, darling; God bless you!\u201d Then he went away, to\nbe her life-long friend.\n\n\u201cI am so happy, I can not keep still, Dolladine,\u201d said the child; and\nshe danced about till the mother came in, weary and worn. \u201cOh! mamma,\u201d\nsaid she, running up and kissing her, \u201cwe shall always be happy now, in\nGod\u2019s glorious sunshine, and the old magician gave me this box, full of\nit, for you, mamma.\u201d\n\nIt was some time before the mother could understand all; but when she\nopened the box, sure enough, it was full of sunshine. There was the\nmissing deed, that restored to her her own--the dear old home, and all\nher great wealth.\n\nAgain she became the fair lady with the lily-white hands; but her\ngreatest joy was in the warm, genial sunshine her good little daughter\nmade. From a child she grew up to be a loving, beautiful, and pure\nwoman. But she never forgot the good God, and, all her life, remained\nthe mother\u2019s sunshine child.\n\n\n\n\nTHE YOUNG GOLD-SEEKER.\n\n\nIn the olden time, between the Mission of San Gabriel and Los Angeles,\nlived an old Spaniard, his wife, and one son.\n\nIn his early manhood, Don Pedro had been very rich, but sickness and\nmisfortune had followed him, until, in his old age, he was destitute of\nmany of the comforts of life.\n\nSorrowful and dispirited, he looked forward to death as the only portal\nof hope for future repose.\n\nFrancisco, his son, was full of youthful ambition and ardent life.\n\nOne morning he went to the bedside of his father and mother, and\nkneeling down beside them begged their blessing.\n\n\u201cI am going,\u201d he said, \u201cdear father and mother, to retrieve your fallen\nfortunes.\u201d\n\nThe father blessed him, and bade him Godspeed, but the mother wept\nand clasped her arms about him, till her silver hair mingled with the\nglossy black of his; and when he tore himself regretfully from her\nembrace, she called him again and again to return for one more kiss. At\nlast, when he rushed out, and was nearly gone from her, she buried her\nhead in the bed-clothes and sobbed as if her heart would break.\n\nFrancisco was at first greatly saddened and subdued by his dear\nmother\u2019s grief; but soon with the fresh morning air, the elastic\nspirits of youth, rose joyous and hopeful, and he sung merrily as he\nwandered on through the open country.\n\nHe had taken with him some tortillas (coarse Indian-meal cakes) and\ndried beef.\n\nWhen he was hungry, he sat down in the shade, ate sparingly of these\nand of the delicious fruits that abound through all the country, and\ndrank from the clear spring.\n\nThus passed the first few days of his journeying; but there came a\ntime, when, out in the desert, his food became exhausted, and there\nwere no cooling springs bubbling up from the yellow heat of the burning\nsand.\n\nThere were no trees, no fruit, no shade. He wandered on for two days\nand nights, until nature was almost exhausted, and when the third night\ncame, he threw himself upon the sand to die.\n\nHe prayed devoutly to the Holy Virgin to intercede for his soul, and\ngrant his fevered body rest; when, as he turned his head wearily, far\nout on the desert gleamed a light.\n\nHope rose in his bosom, and he drew his aching limbs onward, till\nnearer and nearer gleamed the blessed light from a cool oasis in the\ndesert. Soon his foot pressed the soft turf, and green trees waved\nabove his head.\n\nThe blessed Virgin had pitied him and listened to his prayer. He was\nsaved.\n\nHe thought the waters of the running stream the sweetest music he had\never beard, and bending over, with his hand he raised to his parched\nlips a draught of holy water--for \u2019twas the Mother of Mercy\u2019s gift--the\ngift of life.\n\nExtreme thirst is the most intolerable of all sufferings--greater far\nthan hunger. None but those who have endured its pangs, can have the\nleast idea of the excruciating pain it brings.\n\nAfter Francisco had drank the water, he was for a time very sick, but\nsoon was sufficiently relieved to long for food and rest, so again he\nlooked for the light that had guided him to the oasis.\n\nJust before him, from the thicket of palm-trees it gleamed. He drew\nnear cautiously, fearing it might prove the encampment of hostile\nIndians.\n\nSoftly as he stepped, the quick ear of an old Indian woman detected his\napproach, and she raised her eyes to meet his eager and hungry gaze, as\nhe looked longingly at the supper she was preparing over the fire just\noutside her little cane hut.\n\nWhen he saw that he was discovered, he went up to her, holding out his\nhand, and saying:--\n\n\u201cGood mother, I am very hungry and weary, give me something to eat and\nlet me rest here to-night, or I shall die. Oh, mother! mother!\u201d\n\nHe was thinking of his own mother at home; but his words and tones sunk\ninto the heart of the old Indian woman, and tears gathered in her dim\neyes as she placed her hand softly on Francisco\u2019s shoulders.\n\n\u201cYou call me mother,\u201d she said, in Spanish, sadly, \u201cthose who used to\ncall me mother are all dead! My boy would have been like you. My brave\nboy! my timid girl, gone! all gone!\u201d\n\nShe wept bitterly as she gave Francisco the choicest morsels, and a\ncool, delicious drink, that was a balm to his parched and aching throat.\n\nWhen Francisco had eaten, he was overcome with fatigue and want of\nsleep, but when he would have thrown himself down upon a mat in the\nhut, and fallen asleep immediately, the old mother caught him by the\narm, exclaiming:--\n\n\u201cYou must not lie down there to sleep, you would never wake again; for\nwhen the chief, my husband, returns, he would kill you, for he hates\nthe Spaniards. What can I do with you, my poor boy?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can go no farther, mother, I shall die of fatigue if I try; think of\nthe two days and nights I passed upon the desert, without food, drink\nor sleep.\u201d And he threw himself in the corner, saying: \u201che must kill me\nif he will,\u201d and in a moment was fast asleep.\n\nThe old woman bent over and kissed him, weeping.\n\n\u201cHe called me mother,\u201d she said, \u201cpoor boy, poor boy.\u201d\n\nShe covered him over with cool boughs, with the thick green leaves\nstill fresh upon them.\n\nHow long he slept he could not tell, but while it was yet dark, a rough\nvoice very near, awoke him.\n\nOpening his eyes and peering through the mass of foliage, he saw a\ngigantic Indian, surrounded by half a dozen younger men, all eating\nwhat appeared to be an early breakfast, and talking over some adventure\nin which they were about engaging.\n\nFrom their conversation he learned that he was approaching the borders\nof the rich Arizona country; and he noticed, when the chief put up his\nammunition (he was the only one who carried a gun), that the bullet was\nof pure gold.\n\nHe lay for some time motionless, carefully watching their movements. At\none time he came very near being discovered.\n\nOne of the young Indians had mislaid his bow and arrow, and went to the\npile of brush to look for it; but the old woman, whose mother\u2019s heart\nhad warmed to the perishing young stranger, drove the Indian boy away,\nwith a sharp reproof for his carelessness in disturbing her basket of\nreeds, which were mingled with the concealing boughs.\n\nAt last the missing bow was found, and the company mounted and rode\naway.\n\nAgain silence fell upon the palm-shaded hut.\n\nStill weary, Francisco lay quietly watching the old woman, as she moved\nabout with a lighted taper, silently putting the things to rights; but\nat last she blew out the light, and lay down to rest upon a mat near\nthe door, and in the darkness, the green oasis of the desert faded into\nthe land of dreams.\n\nThe morning sun was shining clear and bright, through the waving\nbranches of the palm-trees, when Francisco again awoke.\n\nThere was no one in the hut when he arose and went to the spring, where\nthe night before he had slaked his thirst.\n\nAgain he drank from its pure fountain, bathing his face and neck in\nthe sparkling water, till he felt quite refreshed.\n\nAbove his head, amid the glossy leaves hung the rich yellow bananas.\n\nHe gathered some and ate them as he returned to the hut, with a\nhopeful, happy heart.\n\nThe old mother met him at the door, and greeted him pleasantly.\n\nThey sat down together and ate their morning meal. Francisco told her\nhow he had left home to seek his fortune, and of his father and mother,\nwho had once been very rich, and had become poor, and in their old\nage were suffering for the comforts of life. How he had vowed, if his\nlife was spared, that they should enjoy all that money and love could\nprovide for them. \u201cAnd now, mother,\u201d he said, \u201cI am seeking gold, and\ngold I must have, if my life pays the forfeit.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere it not that the chieftain, my husband, would kill you, I could\nshow you where gold is plenty enough,\u201d said the old woman. \u201cOnly one\nday\u2019s journey from here are the great mines, and even on the ground you\ncan pick up quite large nuggets of almost pure gold; but every hour you\nstay here your life is in danger, and you must live to be happy.\n\n\u201cThere are places in the Arizona country where the ground is yellow\nwith gold. The Indians care little for it, but you could never go there\nand return alive. At every step your way would be beset with a more\ndeadly foe than the hunger and thirst of the desert.\n\n\u201cBoy, you have wakened a love that was dead in my heart. I will save\nyou if possible, and, as nearly as I can will grant your wishes.\u201d\n\nThen the old woman prepared food and water for a journey, and taking\ntwo deer-skin bags, she filled them with great nuggets of pure gold,\nand laid across the back of a strong mule, as much as he could carry,\nand embracing Francisco, she bade him take the mule and recross the\ndesert with all possible dispatch.\n\n\u201cTo-night our men will return, and you must be far away.\u201d\n\nThen she gave him directions about the way. \u201cBy to-night, if you keep\nthe trail, you will reach green trees and water. Go home now, be rich\nand happy; but some times remember the lonely Indian mother far away in\nArizona.\u201d\n\nThe old woman embraced him again, weeping, and said: \u201cAll who call me\nmother must go from me.\u201d\n\nFrancisco kissed her brown cheek, and went out from under the shade of\nthe palm-trees into the arid waste.\n\nLooking back, as long as he could see over the desert, in the distance\nhe saw the old woman watching him. She, too, had gone out from the\nshadow of the palm-trees, and stood upon the burning sand, shading her\ntearful eyes with her wrinkled hand from the blinding sunshine.\n\nGod pity the childless mother.\n\nFrancisco was fortunate in keeping the trail, and at night reached the\ntrees and water the old woman had spoken of, but the desert was still\nbefore him--a long and toilsome journey.\n\nFor six weary days he traveled through an arid sandy waste, finding\nwater at intervals; and when at last the green hills of San Gabriel\nrose before him, he wept like a child for joy; but he soon called back\nhis manhood and laughed at his weakness.\n\nWith a full happy heart he journeyed on, till Los Angeles, dear Los\nAngeles, the home of his infancy, lay before him. There was the\ncottage of his mother, and she herself standing at the door. He had\nreturned after all his hardships, strong, rich, and happy. Again the\ngray hair of his mother rested on his shoulder, but this time she wept\ntears of joy, as he whispered in her ear: \u201cMother, dear! you and\nfather can never want again, I am rich now. I have gold enough to last\na lifetime; and, mother, you shall have a beautiful home: and I will\nask Juanita, who loves you, to come and be your daughter and my wife.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISHING-CAP.\n\n\nThrough the branches of a great almond-tree sported the golden\nsunlight, till it fell in shining flecks upon the broad verandas of a\nspacious adobe house. Nothing could be pleasanter than this homestead\nin the southern Gold Land, with the great garden around it, filled with\nall kinds of tropical flowers and fruits in their season. Here dwelt a\nlittle boy and girl, whose father and mother were both dead, so they,\npoor children, had their sorrows.\n\nAfter the mother died, the father had married a poor widow, who had two\nchildren, about the age of his own little ones.\n\nAt first, while the comfort of the new home was a novelty to the woman,\nshe had been kind to the children; but, as the strangeness wore off,\nshe began to feel like the real mistress. In a thousand ways she\nfavored her own children, who were proud and selfish; and in all their\nchildish differences, only the motherless ones were punished.\n\nThen the father died, and the step-mother became like a great shadow\nbetween them and the bright sunshine of childhood. She would have sent\nthem away from home, but their own mother had been very rich, and,\nafter the father\u2019s death, the house in which they lived, the vineyard,\nand the large herd of cattle feeding upon the hills, all belonged to\nthem.\n\nThe step-mother was very angry at this, but she was their guardian, so\nshe managed every thing to suit herself, and lived in great ease and\nluxury.\n\nOne day, as the children were playing in the garden, the step-mother\u2019s\nson threw his ball into a wild-rosebush that was covered with thorns.\n\n\u201cGo and get it for me, Zoie,\u201d said he, sharply, to the little girl.\n\n\u201cI can not,\u201d replied the child, \u201cfor the thorns will tear my dress, and\nthe se\u00f1ora will whip me.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow dare you call my mother the se\u00f1ora? It is not from respect, but\nbecause you are a hateful little beast.\u201d And he struck the child a\ncruel blow, and made her go for the ball.\n\nHer dress was torn, and her pretty hands bleeding when she recovered\nit. Just then her own brother came up, and would have fought the unkind\nboy, but the little Zoie entreated, weeping, \u201cDear brother, do not\nstrike him. Come with me, while I say, \u2018Forgive us our trespasses, as\nwe forgive those who trespass against us.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe heart of the young boy swelled with anger, and his quickened pulse\nbeat fearfully; but, because he loved his sister, he suffered her to\nlead him away, for well he knew, nothing would grieve her so much as\nhis returning blow for blow.\n\n\u201cOh! to be a man!\u201d he thought, as the hot tears filled his eyes. \u201cWhy\ndon\u2019t the years fly fast? How long must I wait, before I can take care\nof my little sister like a man?\u201d\n\nAlready the manhood was dawning in his heart; and if he could have\nprotected the dear little maiden, he would have dared any thing.\n\nAt this moment the garden gate opened, and an old Indian woman came\nup the walk, crying--\u201cStrawberries! fresh and ripe, red and bright.\nStrawberries! strawberries!\u201d\n\nAll the children ran to meet her, and looked so eagerly at the pretty\ncrimson fruit, that she gave to each of them a handful, but to the\nlittle sister, who was so modest and beautiful, she gave a small\nbasket, covered with green leaves, and filled with the delicious\nberries.\n\nWhen the other children would have taken the basket for themselves,\nthe old woman prevented them; and, while they went, crying, to\ntheir mother, Zoie hid her treasure under the trailing vines of a\npassion-flower.\n\n\u201cBe quick, little se\u00f1orita,\u201d said the old Indian. \u201cYour mother once\nsaved the life of my child, and an Indian never forgets. In the basket\nis a wonderful talisman, which will give you any thing you want, just\nfor the wishing.\u201d\n\nShe had hardly time to say this, when the step-mother came out, and\nbought all the fruit she had left.\n\nThe se\u00f1ora was very angry with the orphans, and, after whipping them\nboth for quarreling, sent them supperless to bed, in an old out-house\nwhere the Indian servants slept, but she and her children sat down to\na luxurious meal, with a large basket of delicious strawberries in the\ncenter of the table, plenty of nice white sugar, and three bowls of\nfresh, rich cream.\n\nFor some time the lonely orphans lay talking of their own dear parents,\nand weeping, as they lay shivering in each other\u2019s arms. The evening\nwas coming on, and, though the days were very warm, there was a chill\nin the damp night air, and they had only a thin sheet to cover them.\n\nAt last the brother said: \u201cSister, I can not endure it. If they would\nonly whip me--but to see them strike you! I can not endure it! You,\nwhom I promised the dear papa to love and protect. We have nothing but\nsorrow here. Let us go out into the wide world alone. It will not be\nso bad--at least we shall be away from the se\u00f1ora, who gives only hard\ncrusts to eat.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear brother, let us go! The good God, who takes care of the pretty\nbirds, will take care of us. But first bring me my blue shawl, for it\nwas the last thing the dear mamma gave me.\u201d\n\nVery softly the boy rose and went for the shawl, but the old Indian\ncook, who had lived in the family before he was born, and loved the\nchildren dearly, saw him and gave him some tortillas.\n\n\u201cThe old wizzen witch, to treat the real se\u00f1ora\u2019s children so!\u201d said\nthe woman, angrily. \u201cShe, the se\u00f1ora, to be sure! A cane hut in the\nchaparral would be good enough for her.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-bye, mammie,\u201d said the boy, throwing his arms around the old\nIndian\u2019s neck; \u201cwe are going away to seek our fortune, and when I am a\nman, you shall live with us. But do not follow us now, or she will see\nyou. We are running away from the se\u00f1ora,\u201d he whispered softly.\n\nThe old Indian pressed him to her heart for a moment, and then said,\n\u201cGo! for nothing in the wild woods will hurt you so much as staying\nhere. I shall go to-morrow, but I must wait and see that the old witch\ndoes not bring you back, for I believe she would kill you, only for me.\u201d\n\nThen the boy went softly out, and the old Indian covered her face with\nher apron, and thought over her half savage thoughts, which were still\nfull of good faith and love to the children who had slept in her bosom\nin their helpless infancy.\n\nThe little Zoie was waiting for her brother in the garden. As soon as\nshe saw him, she held up the basket of strawberries, saying, \u201cThis is\nall we have, but, no doubt in the wide world, God will give us all we\nneed.\u201d\n\nThe young boy wrapped the shawl about her, and, clasping each other\u2019s\nhands, they stole out of the garden silently, but, when the gate had\nclosed upon them, he told her how the old cook had given them the\ntortillas.\n\n\u201cThat is but the beginning of our good fortune,\u201d answered the child.\n\nAs they passed the Lake of the Tuleis, the moon and stars were shining\npleasantly, casting a flood of soft golden light upon the graves of\nthe father and mother. Here the children stopped for a moment, and\nthe little maiden laid her head upon the green grave of the mother,\ncrying--\u201cOh, mamma, mamma! We loved you so dearly, and are so lonely\nnow. We are going out into the wide world alone, mamma! dear, sweet\nmamma!\u201d\n\nShe buried her head in the long grass, and there would have wept\nherself to sleep, as she had often done before, but the brother took\nher by the hand, saying, \u201cWe must hasten, sister, or the se\u00f1ora will\ncome after us.\u201d\n\nSo they ran on as fast as they could, and every waving shrub or\ntree their fear and the darkness changed into the form of the angry\nstep-mother.\n\nAt last they came to a thick wood, and began to feel quite safe as they\nentered it. It seemed so large, and so far out into the wide world,\nthat they were sure the step-mother could never find them there.\n\nThe gray twilight of the morning was coming on, and, as they were very\ntired and hungry, they sat down under the trees to eat their tortillas\nand strawberries. In the bottom of the basket Zoie found a nut, about\nthe size of an almond. \u201cThis must be the talisman that makes wishing\n\u2018having,\u2019\u201d said the little girl.\n\nThey wished all sorts of things, but nothing came to them, and the boy\nsaid, \u201cIt is a poor talisman--throw it away.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, brother,\u201d answered the child; \u201cthe old woman was so kind to me,\nfor her sake I will keep it always, and who knows what may come of it\nyet?\u201d\n\nSo she wrapped it in a leaf, and placed it in her bosom. Then they said\ntheir prayers, and, covering themselves with the shawl, they slept\nsoundly till morning.\n\nWhen they awoke, the sun was shining through the leaves of a rich\nbanana tree, and the ripe golden fruit was hanging in thick bunches\njust above their heads.\n\n\u201cSee, brother,\u201d said the little girl, \u201cthe good God has given us our\nbreakfast;\u201d and they gathered from the ground as much of the delicious\nfruit as they wished.\n\n\u201cI am so thirsty,\u201d said the brother.\n\n\u201cI hear something that sounds like running water,\u201d replied Zoie.\n\nSo they looked around, until they found a brook, with a clear spring of\nwater bubbling up in the midst of the shining stones.\n\n\u201cI thank the good God for this pure, clear water,\u201d said the little\ngirl, drinking with much pleasure, for she, too, was beginning to be\nvery thirsty.\n\n\u201cWe must go now,\u201d said the boy.\n\nThey each took as many bananas as they could carry, and started to go,\nthey knew not whither.\n\nThey were light-hearted and happy in all their morning wanderings, but\nby noon they began to feel tired, hungry, and thirsty.\n\n\u201cI am sorry we left the beautiful shady banana tree and the brook. It\nis so hot, and I am very thirsty,\u201d said the boy, sadly. So they both\nlooked for water, but could find none.\n\n\u201cGod will give us some by and by,\u201d said the little sister. \u201cLet us sit\ndown and eat our dinner.\u201d\n\nThey ate their bananas with sad hearts, and the wide world seemed very\ndesolate. All around them the grass was withered, and the trees and\nshrubs were dying for want of water.\n\nThough they were so much fatigued, and it was very warm, they were too\nthirsty to think of rest, and all the afternoon they wandered about\nlooking for water and finding none.\n\nBy and by the twilight came on, then the stars and the great golden\nmoon shone upon the pale face of the children, glistening with tears.\n\n\u201cWhat shall we do, sister,\u201d said the boy, weeping, and falling upon the\nground in despair; \u201cwe shall die, we can not be buried by the Lake of\nthe Tuleis, with the dear papa and mamma.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not cry, brother,\u201d said the little Zoie, her own eyes filling with\ntears. \u201cI am sure God will help us, and if he lets us die here, he will\nsend the birds to cover us with leaves, as they did the poor little\n\u2018children in the woods.\u2019\u201d\n\nShe put her arms around her brother\u2019s neck, and kissed him, saying\nagain, \u201cDo not cry, dear, God _will_ help us, he is our \u2018Father who art\nin heaven.\u2019\u201d\n\nSo they started again, and very soon they saw a tiny light shining\nthrough the trees, and as they ran forward it grew brighter, and\nclearer, and they heard a very pleasant sound, the rushing of waters.\n\nTaking heart again, they urged their little weary feet forward, till\nthey came to a mill, and the clear light shone from the comfortable\nroom, in which sat the weary miller, by a glowing fire, while his young\nson prepared the supper.\n\nThey knocked timidly at the door, and a rough kind voice said, \u201cCome\nin.\u201d\n\nThey entered, and saw the miller sitting by the fire, and his handsome\nyoung son spreading the table.\n\nThe old man spoke to them, but they could not understand him, for he\nspoke in English, and they were Spanish children; but the boy said, in\nthe soft Spanish tongue, \u201cMy friends, who are you? and where did you\ncome from?\u201d\n\nThe little girl answered, \u201cWe are poor children, whose papa and mamma\nare dead, and God takes care of us. We are very hungry and thirsty, and\nhe showed us the light shining from your window, so we are here!\u201d\n\nThen the boy gave them milk to drink, and put two more plates on the\ntable, while he told the father what the children said.\n\n\u201cBless her innocent heart,\u201d said the old man, \u201cGod\u2019s little ones are\nwelcome.\u201d\n\nHe took the child in his arms, and she nestled her head down in his\nrough neck, and whispered, \u201cI love you, you seem like the dear papa.\u201d\n\nA tear came into the old man\u2019s eye, he only understood the word papa,\nbut there was affection in the little arms that twined around his neck,\nand he kissed her, and said again, \u201cBless her little heart.\u201d\n\nHer winning ways touched his affectionate nature, they made him think\nof a lonely grave, and his own lost darling.\n\nMeanwhile the boys talked pleasantly till supper was ready, then they\nsat down together to a bountiful table, and the hungry children ate\nheartily, and drank the pure sweet milk, which after their long thirst\nseemed delicious.\n\nAfter supper they went to sleep on a nice deer-skin, spread upon the\nfloor, but some how that night the old man could not sleep.\n\nHe got up two or three times to look at the children, with the tears\nstanding in his eyes.\n\nHe was living over the past. \u201cBless her little heart,\u201d he said,\nsmoothing with his rough hand the soft wavy hair of the little girl.\n\nIn the morning the children woke much refreshed. At first they did\nnot know where they were, but they saw the face of the old man turned\nkindly toward them, and remembered all.\n\nAt breakfast the brother told their story to the boy, and he\ninterpreted it to the father.\n\n\u201cThey shall stay with us,\u201d said the old man, with great satisfaction,\nfor he had dreaded parting with the child that had so won his love.\n\nAfter breakfast they went into the mill, and the handsome boy told the\norphans his story, in return.\n\n\u201cSome years ago,\u201d he said, \u201cmy father and mother came to this country,\nbringing my little sister and myself.\n\n\u201cMother and sister died very soon after we arrived, and father and I\nhave lived here alone for many years.\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t tell how lonely it was at first,\u201d he continued, \u201cand how I\nused to cry myself to sleep, and poor father was very sad. I am so glad\nyou are going to stay with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod sent us,\u201d said the little girl, smiling. And the children were\nvery contented and happy together.\n\nThus they lived for many years at the old mill.\n\nThe little Zoie grew to be a beautiful maiden, as good as fair.\n\nTo the old father she was a great blessing, making his home always neat\nand pleasant.\n\nThe two boys were handsome, strong young men, full of energy and life.\nEvery day they roamed over the mountains, prospecting for gold. The old\nmill was falling to decay, and promised but little in the future.\n\nOne evening, when they had returned after a hard day\u2019s work, weary\nand out of heart, they sat down on the stone steps of the old mill to\nrest themselves. The waters were flowing on with their usual pleasant\nmusic, and they were thinking and hoping for the future. When the\nhousehold work was done Zoie came out and sat by them. To amuse them\nshe told over the old story of the strawberries and the talisman that\nshould make \u201cwishing having.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me see the nut,\u201d said the miller\u2019s son, and Zoie gave it to him.\n\nPlacing it upon the stone door-step, he pressed his heel upon it, and\nthe shell burst open, showing a silken cap of bright crimson, trimmed\nwith cord, and tassel of gold.\n\nThey were all greatly surprised, and the miller\u2019s son placed it upon\nZoie\u2019s shining hair.\n\n\u201cHow pretty it is,\u201d said she. \u201cI wish I had a rose-bush filled with\nroses of the same color.\u201d\n\nShe had hardly spoken, before a rose-bush, covered with beautiful\ncrimson flowers, sprang up at their feet.\n\nThen they knew that the pretty silken toy was a wonderful wishing-cap,\nand that any thing they might desire, could be had for the wishing.\n\nIn the morning, when the young men went out, Zoie put on the cap, and\nwished they might find a mine of great richness.\n\n\u201cThough we could now live without the trouble of working,\u201d she said to\nthe father, \u201ca rich mine would help hundreds of poor people, who would\nfind employment in it. So it would be a real blessing.\u201d\n\nWhile they sat talking, the brother rushed in, bringing a great nugget\nof gold, telling how at last, they had found a mine of fabulous\nrichness.\n\nThus, they had every thing they desired, till one day, the miller\u2019s son\nput on the cap, and told Zoie, that above every thing in the world, he\nwished that she might love him, and consent to be his wife.\n\nThe young maiden blushed, and begged for the cap. \u201cIt was not quite\nfair,\u201d she said, \u201cin wishing that!\u201d So they talked, as young people\nwill, but it ended in her placing her hand in his, and promising to be\nhis bride.\n\n\u201cAnd this,\u201d as the father said, \u201cwas the best wish of all.\u201d\n\nThe brother was greatly pleased, and said, \u201cZoie shall be married in\nthe old home.\u201d So they all went together to the pleasant adobe house\nfrom which they had fled so long ago.\n\nThe step-mother was greatly surprised so see them. She had so often\nreported them dead, that she really began to believe it herself.\n\nShe was obliged to give up everything to the true heirs. Thus she and\nher children became very poor again. Though the brothers and sisters\ngave her a comfortable house, and provided for her, she was very\nungrateful.\n\nShe was a disappointed woman, unhappy herself and making others so\naround her.\n\nIt was a glorious day when the young people were married, and Zoie in\nher snow-white robes and rich lace veil, was as fair a bride as the sun\ncould shine upon.\n\nAll the old friends of the family were invited to the wedding feast,\nand the old servants taken home again.\n\nEvery one was rejoiced to see the orphans enjoying their own--but of\nthem all--no one was so happy as the old miller, and when he kissed the\nbride after the ceremony, he whispered, \u201cbless your little heart, I\ncould not live without my child.\u201d The young bride looked into his face,\nwith beaming eyes, and answered only \u201cmy father.\u201d\n\nThus they were all happy, and, through the changing scenes of life,\nthe goodness and faith of the wife and mother, never failed. Like the\nlittle maid, Zoie, in the dark night, she trusted, and God always took\ncare of them.\n\n\n\n\nCRIMSON TUFT.\n\n\nIn the early days, many strange things happened. It was the mystical\nage of romance in the Gold Land, and people seemed to live years in\nmonths, or even weeks. Thus a great deal has been forgotten.\n\nIn the old countries it was not so, and it may be that some are\nliving even now at \u201cdear Bingen on the Rhine,\u201d who remember tenderly\nthe handsome young couple who left their home to seek the alluring\ntreasures of the Gold Land in \u201cthe early days.\u201d\n\nThey were honest peasants in the Father land, but over the waters had\nfloated the marvelous story, how, in the glorious El Dorado, any one\nmight become a lord of the soil or a rich miner prince.\n\nThis it was that fired the heart of the father; and as the mother\nlooked upon their boy, she too was ready to go out into the great\nworld, though her heart lay fondly to the beloved Fatherland.\n\nThey had little money, but the thrifty good-man managed to work for one\nand another on the passage, till, when he arrived at the young city of\ntents within the Golden Gate, he had cash enough to make a beginning in\nlife.\n\nThey were soon domesticated in a little shanty, and in a short time\nhad prepared a fine garden, which became the good-man\u2019s pride. Every\nmorning dame Waltenburger went to the market, where she had a stall,\nand sold fruit and vegetables for gold dust, for that was the currency\nof the country in \u201cthe early days.\u201d\n\nThe little son was ten years old, and a real delight to the mother\u2019s\nheart.\n\nHe was well formed, with fine features, golden brown hair, and\nwonderfully expressive eyes. When he was calm and happy they were of a\nsoft looming blue, but if excited or angry, they grew dark and fierce,\nflashing like balls of fire.\n\nIt pleased him above all things, to assist the dear mother at the\nmarket, and very soon he displayed great taste in the arrangements of\nthe fruits and vegetables.\n\nWith maternal pride, the mother often told the neighbors \u201cit would be\nimpossible to do without Paul,\u201d for really he was the greatest help to\nher.\n\nWhen the flowers were in blossom, the boy always made them into\nbouquets and garlands, while his pretty ways brought many a purchaser.\n\nSometimes he used to carry home parcels for ladies who had made large\npurchases, and very often he received presents from them. With the\nregular customers the handsome little fellow was a great favorite.\n\nOne day, as Paul and the mother sat in the stall together, talking of\nthe dear Fatherland so far away, they saw a very queer-looking Spanish\nwoman approaching. She seemed bowed down with age and infirmities, and\nleaned heavily upon her staff as she hobbled along with the greatest\ndifficulty.\n\nAfter the Spanish fashion her head was covered with a shawl, from which\npeered her thin sharp face, quite furrowed with wrinkles. Her bleared\neyes were red, and her long hooked nose nearly met her pointed chin.\nAltogether she was very unpleasant in her appearance.\n\nAll the time she kept her toothless mouth moving as she mumbled\nindistinctly to herself.\n\nShe came directly up to dame Waltenburger\u2019s stall, and entering it,\nthrew herself down upon the bench, exclaiming: \u201cThis is what comes of\ngrowing old, nothing but weariness, care, and aching of bones,\u201d and she\nbegan rubbing her knees and muttering to herself.\n\nLittle Paul stood looking at her, his eyes dilated with wonder, and the\ncompassion of his heart made them blue as the cloudless sky.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d exclaimed the old woman, looking into his innocent face with\na hideous grimace, \u201cwhat are you staring at, with your great round\nowl-eyes? Do you think it is a fine thing to be old, and lame, and\npoor? You will have to come to it. Ah! yes, there is a comfort in that.\u201d\n\n\u201cOld Father Time will take care of you. Yes! yes! yes!\u201d And she shook\nher long bony fingers, and chuckled in such a horrible way, that the\nchild retreated behind the mother\u2019s chair, and hid his face upon her\nprotecting shoulder.\n\n\u201cGo quickly, boy, and bring me some fresh water,\u201d said the old woman,\n\u201cI am very thirsty,\u201d she added, looking at the mother.\n\nLittle Paul took a glass and ran away to the well and drew a bucket of\nwater, so clear and sparkling that it glistened in the sunlight like\nthe dew of the morning.\n\nAs he carried it along, he thought how the professor had told him of\nshining nectar that Hebe used to bear in the golden cup to Jupiter and\nall the gods of Olympus.\n\n\u201cThat was in the olden time,\u201d he said, \u201cbut no nectar could be more\nbeautiful and pure than the water the loving God in heaven gives to us\nall.\u201d\n\nOffering it to the old woman, his open rosy face beaming with smiles,\nhe said \u201cit is nectar fit for the gods, and I am your cup-bearer.\u201d\n\nThen he bowed so prettily that the mother laughed, saying, \u201cdid one\never see such a child? oh! you mischief,\u201d and she shook her fingers in\nthe cunning old way that all mothers do.\n\nThe old woman took the glass, but managed to spill half its contents\nover the child\u2019s clean clothes, then she chuckled with delight at his\ndiscomfiture, saying \u201csee what it is to be old, my little cup-bearer.\u201d\n\nWhile the mother wiped off the water with her handkerchief the woman\nbegan picking over the vegetables and fruit with her thin hooked\nfingers, and smelling every bouquet of flowers, till little Paul\u2019s eyes\ngrew dark and flashed like living flames.\n\n\u201cJust see her, mother,\u201d he whispered, \u201cwho will buy them after she has\nhandled every thing with her dirty hands, and snuffed all the sweetness\nand beauty out of the flowers with her ugly, crooked nose?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you little viper,\u201d cried the old woman, springing forward, \u201cI\u2019ll\nteach you to mock at old age.\u201d\n\nPaul was too quick for her, and had it not been for the mother she\nwould have fallen, in her eagerness to catch him.\n\n\u201cNever mind the child, my good woman,\u201d said dame Waltenburger, gently,\n\u201cwe were all children once, now how can I serve you?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be sure! we were all children once. Ah! me!\n\n\u201cOh, no! I don\u2019t mind the child, my little cup-bearer,\u201d and the old\nwoman drew her wizen face into a hundred wrinkles, and began selecting\na large quantity of fruits, vegetables and herbs, far more than she\ncould carry.\n\n\u201cIs it far you have to go?\u201d said the mother.\n\n[Illustration: _Crimson Tuft._]\n\n\u201cNo, no! not far,\u201d replied the woman.\n\nSo the mother called Paul to help her. He was very reluctant to go;\nbut, when the mother kissed him, and promised to make him a beautiful\nball, and cover it with red morocco, he came forward and took the\nbasket readily.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the old woman, \u201cwill give him a beautiful crimson tuft;\nhe will be gay as a lark, my little cup-bearer.\u201d\n\nThis seemed delightful to Paul, and he followed after the old woman,\nthinking--\u201cI can play soldier with the crimson tuft, and the professor\nin the next house will hear me, and call me Charlemagne. It will be\nglorious to be the soldier with the crimson tuft.\u201d\n\nLittle Paul walked on in quite a lordly way, with his great martial\nthoughts echoing in all the chambers of his boyish heart, \u201cIt will be\nglorious--the soldier of the crimson tuft!\u201d\n\nOn, on they went, far out into the sand hills, in an opposite direction\nfrom his own home.\n\nPaul\u2019s arm began to ache very much, carrying the heavy basket, but he\nwas feeling so manly, that he did not like to complain; but at last he\nbecame so tired, that it was no use--he could not bear it any longer,\nand great tears filled his eyes and covered his rosy cheeks.\n\nAll the way the old woman had been muttering to herself in Spanish, but\nPaul could not understand that.\n\n\u201cI am so tired,\u201d he said, resting the basket upon the ground.\n\n\u201cOh, it is not far! not far! and I will give you the bright crimson\ntuft--think of that,\u201d replied the old woman.\n\nSo Paul took up the basket, and again they went on a long, long way,\nand turned so many corners, he feared he could never find his way back,\nbut still the thought of the crimson tuft allured him.\n\n\u201cI must have it,\u201d he said; \u201cthat would be a real pleasure.\u201d\n\nAt last, when he was just ready to fall down with fatigue, they came to\na great iron-barred gate, and the old woman rung the bell very loudly.\n\nIn a moment a great rough voice called, in Spanish, as through a\ntrumpet, \u201cWho rings at the gate?\u201d\n\nVery soon the gate was opened by a curious-looking dwarf, who started\nand grinned fearfully when he saw Paul.\n\nThe child offered him the basket, but he only shook his head, pointing\nafter the old woman, who gave him her staff, and walked along with as\nmuch ease as little Paul himself.\n\nNow the child was really frightened, and would have run away, but he\nwas already within the gate, and, with a great clang, it closed. The\ndwarf put up the iron bars, and replaced the bolts. Nothing could be\nmore secure, for all around rose an immense high fence, topped with\nsharp spikes. It was impossible to escape--no one could get in or out.\n\nA long avenue led to a pleasant-looking house, built in the Spanish\nfashion. It was shaded with beautiful trees, that had been brought from\nthe southern country. How they waved their long fan-like leaves in the\nsunshine! It was a picture engraven upon the child\u2019s mind never to be\neffaced.\n\nUnder the shadow of the trees walked the old woman toward the house,\nand Paul followed with the basket, trembling like the light leaves of\nthe tamarind. Just behind him came the dwarf. He could hear his heavy\ntread.\n\n\u201cIt is no use! no use!\u201d thought the child; but he would gladly have\ngiven the tempting crimson tuft, the red morocco ball, all, all his\npretty treasures, to have been once more by the mother\u2019s side, selling\nvegetables in the market.\n\nThey entered a large, pleasant drawing-room, with doors opening upon\nthe front piazza and upon the verandah of the inner court, so that,\nthough it was very warm, a delicious breeze swept through the room, and\nmade it delightfully cool.\n\nThe old woman threw herself upon a couch, and, pointing to a silver\nbell, told Paul to ring it, adding, \u201cMy little cup-bearer, you must be\ntired, and I will order something to refresh you before you return to\nyour good mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not so very tired,\u201d said Paul; \u201clet me go--the mother will need\nme;\u201d and he looked imploringly into the pitiless face that he was\nbeginning to fear above all things.\n\n\u201cRing the bell, boy,\u201d was the only answer.\n\nSo he rang the bell, and the dwarf, who had left them on the piazza,\nentered.\n\nThe woman addressed him in Spanish, which Paul did not understand, but,\nas he went to and from a large closet, and began spreading the table,\nhe would turn his curious squinting eyes upon the child with looks of\ncompassion.\n\nIn a short time all was ready; and what a delicious lunch it might\nhave been to the child, but for the great fear that overshadowed him!\nDelicate cakes and confections, cold chicken, eggs, and all kinds of\nfruits that children are so fond of, with many nice-looking things\nthat Paul had never seen before.\n\nThere was a great pyramid of ice-cream. \u201cHow I should like to eat it\nwith the dear mother!\u201d thought Paul.\n\nOh! that _was_ a delicious lunch, to be sure!\n\n\u201cCome, let us sit down,\u201d said the old woman.\n\n\u201cI am not hungry,\u201d answered Paul, timidly; for he longed so greatly to\nbe at home, that even these unaccustomed delicacies, and the promised\ncrimson tuft, were as nothing compared with the sweet comfort at the\ndear mother\u2019s side.\n\n\u201cYou silly child! You have walked all this distance, carrying that\ngreat basket, and are not hungry? Well, you are thirsty, and for your\nnectar of the gods, I will return you the sherbet of an eastern prince.\u201d\n\nThe woman filled a glass with a clear, rosy liquid, that bubbled up\nand sparkled so temptingly, that little Paul, who was quite overcome\nwith fatigue and thirst, grasped it eagerly, and did not take the glass\nfrom his lips till he had drained it to the bottom.\n\nThen he wished to start for home, but he felt so drowsy that he could\nnot move. He thought of the mother, but felt no emotion, and looked at\nthe hideous old woman, who was grinning horribly, without fear. In a\nfew moments he sunk down upon the couch, in a heavy sleep.\n\nThe woman stood over him, chuckling in great glee. \u201cI have you now, my\npretty cup-bearer, and will make you of great use to me. I will teach\nyou a thousand things you would be glad not to know! You shall have a\ncrimson tuft, ha! ha! ha! I will teach you to be impertinent to me! My\nhooked nose! to be sure. Ah! I am old! old! and nothing can make me\nyoung and fair. If I could only take for myself your young beauty! But,\nno! one day I must die, and that will be the end.\u201d\n\nThe woman\u2019s face grew convulsed--for she was haunted by the grim\nspecter, Death, as with a dread terror. Her life had been so filled\nwith darkness, that she could not look forward to the calm hereafter.\nAll the brightness and beauty of heaven, the golden, was like the\nfleeting dreams of childhood, that the rolling years, bearing her to\nthe portals of dim old age, had swept away.\n\nShe had studied magic, and tried to find the elixir of life, but in\nvain. She had discovered many wonderful things, but not the fountain of\nperpetual youth, nor the precious elixir of life.\n\nFor a few moments she stood gazing at the fresh face and rich curls of\nthe child, as he lay sleeping in his pure innocence. Once the word\n\u201cmother\u201d passed his rosy lips, and the woman waved a perfumed fan over\nhim, till even the mother was no longer the companion of his dreamless\nsleep.\n\n\u201cNow, it will do to begin,\u201d said the old woman, and she took from a\nsecret drawer in the closet several bottles containing liquids, and\nplaced them on a little table. Taking a pair of sharp scissors, she sat\ndown by the child, and cut off all his beautiful brown curls, leaving\nonly a little tuft. This she made quite stiff in some way, and colored\nit bright red, tying it upon the top of his head, so that it stood up\nand looked very strangely.\n\n\u201cThere is the crimson tuft, my little cup-bearer,\u201d she said, laughing\nheartily at her wicked work.\n\nThen she tinged his eyebrows red, and his skin a dark mahogany color,\nuntil, instead of the beautiful little Paul that everybody had loved\nand admired, he appeared the ugliest little wretch one could well\nimagine.\n\nShe took off his neat, plain clothes, dressing him in yellow leather\nbreeches and a fantastic red jacket. Upon his feet she put shoes with\nlong pointed toes, that turned up and were tied with red ribbons. When\nshe had finished, she looked at him with great satisfaction.\n\n\u201cEven the old dame herself would not know her cub now. What an ugly\nlittle goat he has become, to be sure!\u201d And the old woman, after her\nusual way, muttered to herself.\n\nAt last she sat down, and, eating and drinking, for, by this time, she\nwas quite hungry, every few moments she would stop and rub her long\nbony hands together, and laugh, as she looked at the transformed child.\n\nPaul slept all the afternoon, and awoke in the dusky shadow of the\ntwilight, confused and bewildered, to find himself in a strange room\nwith the horrible woman, sitting before a blazing fire, gazing steadily\ninto its fantastic pictures.\n\nAt first he could not tell where he was, but in a moment he remembered\nall, and jumped up in the greatest excitement, saying, \u201cHow could I\nhave slept, when the dear mother was expecting me? She will be so\nanxious. Oh, let me go to her! Please, good lady, let me go!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean,\u201d answered the old woman. \u201cYou have no mother! you\nare my little servant, Crimson Tuft. I gave you that name, myself, on\naccount of your red hair, which stands up like a crest on the top of\nyour ugly head.\u201d\n\nThen the child began to cry, saying, \u201cMy hair is not red, and my name\nis Paul, and it was my dear mother who sold you vegetables at the\nmarket this morning. Let me go home, oh! please let me go home to the\ndear mother.\u201d\n\nThe child\u2019s voice was broken with sobs, but the hard-hearted woman only\nlaughed, \u201cHa! ha! it is a curious dream you have had, or are you going\ncrazy? your hair not red! indeed! why, look in the glass yourself.\u201d\n\nShe led him to a mirror, and there the unhappy child saw reflected the\nugly wretch called Crimson Tuft, but never again the handsome little\nPaul.\n\nThe child was more frightened and bewildered than ever. He was sure he\nhad left the mother that morning, in company with this horrible old\nwoman. Every thing in the rude little home rose in his mind, yet he\ncould not realize his own identity. Paul surely he could not see in the\nreflecting mirror, only the ugly little Crimson Tuft.\n\nHe raised his hands and took hold of the stiff shock of red hair that\nstood up\u00b7 right upon his head. Oh, no! it was not Paul\u2019s soft silken\ncurls.\n\nYet there _was a look_ about the eyes that reminded him of Paul,\nbut even they were very different: they were the red, swollen,\nterror-strained eyes of Crimson Tuft.\n\n\u201cAre you satisfied now,\u201d said the old woman. \u201cIt was only a dream, a\nqueer dream that you have had, Crimson Tuft, and how funny that you\nshould think you were an old vegetable-woman\u2019s child. You, my servant,\nwho have never been out of this place in your life.\u201d\n\nStill the child only cried the more, and entreated, \u201cLet me go home to\nthe mother, let me go home.\u201d\n\nThough he was faint from the effects of the narcotic, and from fasting\nfor a long time, he refused food, and continued to sob, begging\nthe old woman to let him go home, but she only answered, \u201cyou are\ndreaming still, or crazy.\u201d Then she told him how sometimes people were\nbewitched, and did not know themselves.\n\n\u201cStill, I am Paul, let me go.\u201d At last the woman, losing all patience,\ncalled the dwarf to beat him, if he did not stop crying and begin\nto eat. So terror and hunger at last conquered, and the little boy,\nchoking down his sobs, sat upon a stool in silence, to eat his supper,\nvery desolate and leaden hearted.\n\nFrom that day a new era commenced in the history of the child. An era\nof servitude, sorrow, and tears, that washed away so far into the past\nthe memory of his free and joyous childhood, that he began to believe\nwhat the woman so often told him, that his mind had gone astray, that\nhe had been bewitched.\n\nSometimes he would stand looking long into the great mirror, at the\nstiff, red hairs and brown skin of poor Crimson Tuft, thinking what\na beautiful myth it was, about the happy little Paul, and the dear\nmother. How it had stolen into his heart like a real life, and still\nthe se\u00f1ora, as all about the house called her, said it was only a\nbewildering dream.\n\nInto his eyes he would often look, saying, \u201cThose are Paul\u2019s eyes, but\nthe red brows give a different expression to their sadness,\u201d he would\nadd, \u201cNo! no! they are not Paul\u2019s eyes.\u201d\n\nAlways the red hair, brown skin and sorrowful heart, \u201cI must be only\npoor Crimson Tuft.\u201d\n\nVery often his hungry heart would cry out, \u201cOh, mother! mother!\u201d\n\nToo often the shrill voice of the old woman would be the discordant\nanswer, sending him to some new task.\n\nAs months, then years, rolled by, the child became more accustomed to\nhis sorrowful lot, and in many ways it grew pleasanter. He learned to\ntalk Spanish fluently, and became very fond of the queer looking dwarf,\nwho had frightened him so much at first. He often talked to him about\nhis mysterious change, but of these things the dwarf would never speak,\nso at last Crimson Tuft ceased to mention them.\n\nHis kind-hearted friend taught him many things in leisure hours--to\nread, write, and solve difficult problems--so that at twelve, he was\nas much advanced in his studies as most boys of his age.\n\nWith the se\u00f1ora he had become quite a favorite, although at first,\nfor a long time, he had only menial service to perform, there came\na change. One day she heard him reading aloud to the dwarf, and was\nso much delighted with his distinct enunciation, and fine rendition\nof what happened to be a favorite author, that she called him to her\nprivate library, and talked a long time in a way she had never before\naddressed him.\n\n\u201cHe is a boy of quick mind,\u201d thought she, \u201cand may be more than an\nordinary servant to me. He is just what I shall need in my troublesome\nMexican affairs. I must train him to his work.\u201d\n\nFrom that day he used to sit hours in the library reading to her, and\noften she gave him long papers to copy, which he was soon able to do,\nto her entire satisfaction.\n\nVery often she would talk to him as though he were a man, in fact the\ntraining he was receiving brought only the man\u2019s thoughts. He had left\nhis happy boyhood at the little stall in the market-place.\n\nOne day he found an old guitar in the attic of an out-house, which was\nfilled with broken furniture, and many things disused and forgotten.\nFrom that hour he enjoyed a real pleasure. In a short time he picked\nout the chords and wove them into delicious harmonies, and then there\ncame into his mind a rich old melody of the fatherland. It was like\nthe memory of a happy dream, and the tears filled his eyes. Again he\nwas happy, for every thing save the spell of the divine melody was\nforgotten.\n\nTwo more years glided by, and the young boy was advancing toward\nmanhood. He was tall, and finely developed; and deep within his dreamy\neyes slept the wonderful magnetic charm. Still the brown skin and stiff\nhair remained, and he was only poor ugly Crimson Tuft.\n\nIn all this time he had never been outside the massive gate which was\nalways strongly locked and barred; and though he had often entreated\nthe dwarf, the only reply was a grave shake of the head, and a sad,\ncompassionate look, from the odd squinting eyes of his companion, and\nif he persisted the dwarf would go away and leave him alone.\n\nHe had never ventured to speak to the Se\u00f1ora but once, on the subject,\nin years, and then her fury was so unbounded, that he feared she would\ntear him in pieces with her long bony fingers, which, when she was\nenraged, possessed the power of a vice. For a week after, she fed him\non bread and water, and kept him confined in a dark room with too\nheavy tasks to allow him to question the mysterious past, or speculate\non the uncertain future.\n\n\u201cAlways a foolish dreamer,\u201d she said. \u201cI will teach you something, you,\nthe brown-skinned Crimson Tuft.\u201d\n\nYet it was all no use: the boy had his thoughts, that could not be\nchained. He was determined to escape.\n\n\u201cI will not excite suspicion; I will strive to please; and a time will\ncome, yes, the time will come, when I shall know all.\u201d\n\nThus in striving to lull the suspicions of the Argus-eyed woman to\nsleep, he grew into great favor, and became indispensable to her.\n\n\u201cHe can do so many things that no one else can do,\u201d she would say to\nherself, \u201cbut those great luminous eyes torment me. If they too could\nbe changed. But that is beyond my power. Would I could make them dull\nleaden and red as his flaming crimson tuft. He is useful, very useful,\nbut there are times, with all his quiet seeming, when I think he\nsuspects me. Dare I trust him? that is the question.\u201d\n\nHere the old woman would fall into long fits of musing, and gaze into\nthe glowing embers, till they faded into dead ashes.\n\nOne morning the old woman called Crimson Tuft to her, saying: \u201cI am\ngoing away, to be gone for some days, and I want you to copy these\npapers for me. They are the deeds and other valuable papers of my\nproperty in Mexico, which you will see is very great. Let the copies be\nmade with great distinctness, for these duplicates may be required. You\nsee I am cautious, and trust you very much, very much.\u201d\n\nA look of suspicion crossed her sharp wizen face; but in the ugly brown\ncountenance she could detect nothing but truth and sincerity.\n\n\u201cI can do no better,\u201d she thought, but aloud she added, \u201cthe dwarf\nknows all and will see to the safety of these and every thing. If one\nof them is lost it would bring no end of trouble, and you would have\nyour share.\u201d With an ominous shake of the head, the old se\u00f1ora rose and\nleft Crimson Tuft bending over the yellowed parchment, that was of the\nmost inestimable value to her.\n\nAbout noon she left the house, with the dwarf following her to the\ngate, which, when she had passed he barred more securely than ever.\n\nFor some days Crimson Tuft worked diligently over the papers. There\nwere deeds of haciendas and mines, mortgages, and grants of land, and\nmany long, intricate pages of law papers. Really to copy all these was\na task, and Crimson Tuft was filled with amazement at the greatness of\nthe old se\u00f1ora\u2019s possessions.\n\nAt last they were all finished, and locked up by the dwarf in the\niron-bound oaken chest, and that again was locked in the great closet,\nand the dwarf carried the key. So it was very secure.\n\nStill the old se\u00f1ora did not return! \u201cNow the time has come,\u201d thought\nCrimson Tuft, \u201cI must escape.\u201d But that was easier planned than done.\nEverywhere the dwarf followed him, and when Crimson Tuft grew angry he\nlaid his heavy hand upon his arm, saying, \u201cfrom the first I have loved\nyou, boy,--believe me it will all be well--only wait a little longer.\u201d\n\nThen Crimson Tuft took his hard, honest hand, saying, \u201cyou alone have\nloved me, and for your sake I will wait, but not long, I _can not_--do\nnot ask it.\u201d\n\nOne evening, about a week after this, the bell rang, and the se\u00f1ora\nentered, followed by a most beautiful little maiden about twelve years\nof age.\n\nShe was dressed in mourning, with a black shawl about her head; her\nlong glossy hair hung carelessly over her graceful shoulders; her\ncomplexion was a clear olive, and her skin soft and smooth as satin;\nwhile her large, dark eyes had a depth as of the mystic sea, and a pure\nclear look as of heaven.\n\nThey were more beautiful than any thing Crimson Tuft had ever seen,\nand some how they startled him. It was not like the old vision, yet it\ntouched him more deeply--this was of the present--that of the past.\n\n\u201cThis is my only granddaughter,\u201d said the old woman to the dwarf and\nCrimson Tuft. Both bowed very low to the pretty se\u00f1orita. They were\nsuch a queer-looking pair, that she clapped her dainty little hands\ntogether laughing in a pure ringing tone, clear as the notes of a\nsilver bell.\n\nPoor Crimson Tuft was very much confused, for to him the young Donna\nLeota was the first dream of beauty that had kindled the dawning fire\nof manhood in his heart, and he was ready to bow down and kiss her\nfoot-prints in the sand.\n\nStrange to say, the little Leota swayed the grandmother as absolutely\nas she had ruled the dwarf and Crimson Tuft, but in one respect the old\nwoman was resolute, the heavy gate was locked as securely upon Leota as\nupon the other inmates of the mansion, and no persuasion could induce\nher to change in this regard.\n\nLeota was passionately fond of music, and played the harp very sweetly.\n\nOnce in the still hours of night, she was awakened by the notes of her\nown harp vibrating in the most exquisite harmony.\n\nShe was filled with delight though she trembled with fear, for she was\nquite sure there was no one in the house who knew any thing of music\nbut herself, yet the chords were swept as by a master\u2019s hand.\n\nShe lay motionless until the last note died away, and it was long\nbefore she fell asleep, for the spell of the rich melodies still\nfloated through the air around her. In the morning she spoke of it,\nbut no one could explain the mystery. Again and again, in the silent\nhours came the rich melody, not old familiar airs, but the exquisite\nimprovisations of genius.\n\nOne night, when the golden moon was casting its soft amber light over\nland and sea, and the enchanted harp sending forth its entrancing\nstrains, Leota rose softly from her couch, and summoning all her\ncourage, determined herself to solve the mystery. She glided quietly\nalong the passage-way to the large glass door of the parlor, and there\nshe saw Crimson Tuft bending fondly over the harp, and calling out the\nbewildering melody that she had thought could be born only of mystical\nenchantment. The imagination of the young girl was so vivid that she\nwas easily prepared for things supernatural, but to see poor brown\nCrimson Tuft, the great magician, he, the slave, of whom she thought\nonly to laugh at--this was stranger than all.\n\nThe soft moonlight fell full upon his face, and his large luminous eyes\nwere dewy with the spirit of the rich melody. With the rare beauty that\nwas all their own, they almost redeemed the brown skin and flaming hair\nfrom positive ugliness. Leota stood entranced till the last note died\nout of the thrilled chords of the trembling harp, then, as she turned\nto go, the rustling of her robe caused Crimson Tuft to raise his eyes,\nand they fell full upon her face, to him at least the most beautiful\nface in the world. He was covered with deep confusion. Over his\nredeeming eyes fell the heavy red lashes, and the ugly brows contracted.\n\nShe, his rare divinity, had seen him play, and heard how the notes\nflowed from his own heart, through the sympathizing harp-strings that\nthrilled with his devotion to her, which would last all his life long.\n\nLeota was greatly bewildered, and as she stole away to her own room,\nstrange thoughts chased themselves through her mind. Not one word had\nbeen spoken, but every thing had changed. Crimson Tuft was no longer\nonly the ugly servant of her grandmother, but he was Crimson Tuft of\nthe mystery.\n\nThere was something interesting in that; besides, shut up in those high\nwalls, with only the old grandmother for company, and little amusement,\none must think a great deal. So Leota had her thoughts. Crimson Tuft\nhad wonderful eyes. She had found that out, and it was a great deal\nthere in that dull place.\n\nShe wished to be in Mexico again, where the most beautiful flowers\nbloom, and the delicious fruit grows ripe on the broad-leafed trees.\nYet she did not like to think she would never see the beautiful eyes\nagain. \u201cBut one must not think too much of a servant,\u201d she would say\nto herself. \u201cShe was of good blood, and that would not do, yet one\nmust treat inferiors kindly.\u201d Really it was difficult to tell what one\nmust do. So, all in a maze, she fell asleep, and dreamed of the most\nradiant eyes, which _were_ Crimson Tuft\u2019s, and the handsomest face,\nwhich surely _was not_ Crimson Tuft\u2019s.\n\nThe morning dawned clear and bright, as Crimson Tuft arose and began\nthe duties of the day. Though he was advanced to the post of private\nsecretary, the old se\u00f1ora had left him some tasks in the early part\nof the day that would prevent him from forgetting his position as a\nservant.\n\nFirst he swept and dusted the parlor and halls. This had always been\nhis work, and no one else could please the se\u00f1ora so well. As he dusted\nthe se\u00f1orita\u2019s harp a flash of indignation filled his heart. He was\nonly a servant, the ugly Crimson Tuft, and she the most beautiful\nmaiden, the divinity of his soul. There was a great difference, yet he\nfelt himself a man, and he would conquer fate in the end, even with\nhis ugly Crimson Tuft. This was what he thought.\n\nWhen Leota appeared she said nothing of her discovery, but when she\nspoke to him it was in a different tone from formerly. The mystery of\nthe enchanted harp was over, but the greater mystery had begun.\n\nThe wonderful eyes acted as a talisman upon her heart, and though\nshe strove against it, she found herself forgetting Crimson Tuft\u2019s\nposition, his ugly brown skin and red hair.\n\nOne glance of his beaming eyes would set her warm blood dancing through\nher veins till her neck and brow were a soft rose-tint, and this was in\nno way pleasant to the proud little maiden.\n\nThe next night Crimson Tuft did not touch the harp, and in the morning\nthe Donna Leota passed him at his work with a haughty toss of her\ndainty head, but with a quiver in her voice she said, \u201cCrimson Tuft,\nplay when you like, the music pleases me.\u201d\n\nAfter that Crimson Tuft would always play at twilight, and even the old\ngrandmother was touched by the magical spell of his genius.\n\nEvery year the old woman grew more infirm, till she could not even walk\nfrom room to room without leaning upon her staff. At times her temper\nwas terrible, and nothing but the soft touch of Leota\u2019s hand could calm\nher. She loved with all her strong hard nature the young maiden who\ndaily was growing to womanhood crowned with surpassing beauty.\n\nShe was getting very old. With an iron will she resisted the pitiless\nhand of time, but she could not stay it. Her long hands became more\nbony and angular, her eyes more red and bleared, and her voice more\ncracked and shrill; yet she seemed to be looking forward to a long\nlife, and was more hard and grasping than ever. It was only Leota that\nshe loved more than gold.\n\nOne night Crimson Tuft had a curious dream. He thought, as he lay half\nsleeping and half waking, dreaming delightful but impossible things,\nthat the old woman came in softly and poured something upon his head,\nand that when he started, she held a sponge to his nose, until he sank\nback powerless. He seemed to inhale something sweet and fragrant. It\nwas very pleasant and soothing: that was all he could remember. In\nthe morning, he felt heavy and drowsy, his head ached, but he roused\nhimself, rose and dressed as usual. When he looked in the glass he\nsaw that his hair was redder, and his skin a deeper brown than ever.\nMemories and a strange suspicion flashed over his mind.\n\nFar back in the years he remembered dimly a little boy, named Paul, a\nfair child, whom he had been taught to believe a dream. There was a\nmystery. Could she have changed Paul to Crimson Tuft in a night?\n\nAfter this, Crimson Tuft became more thoughtful than ever. There was\na mystery to solve, and he would devote all his energies to it. He\nwas eighteen years old, a very intelligent young man, but entirely\nunacquainted with the world. He had yet much to learn.\n\nOne day the old woman called him to her, and looked, in her curious\nway, at him for a long time. \u201cCrimson Tuft,\u201d she said, \u201cyou are my\nservant, but I have given you great advantages, so that you are as well\neducated as many a rich man\u2019s son. But that is not all; I wish to make\nyour fortune.\u201d\n\nThen the old woman fell into a deep study, and Crimson Tuft stood\nwaiting and wondering what would come next.\n\nAt length he grew tired. \u201cSe\u00f1ora,\u201d he said, \u201cyou wanted to speak with\nme.\u201d\n\nShe gave a sudden start as he spoke. \u201cOh! yes,\u201d she replied, \u201cbut I had\nforgotten you. You are my servant, and have been so always.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlways?\u201d asked Crimson Tuft.\n\nA dark frown passed over the old woman\u2019s face, and Crimson Tuft\nregretted his folly. He was very anxious to hear what she had to say to\nhim. There might be some hope of relief. But again she was silent; and,\nworse than all, she seemed displeased.\n\nThe Donna Leota passed the open window, singing lightly a pretty\nSpanish air, and the shadows began to clear away from the clouded brow.\n\n\u201cExcuse me, se\u00f1ora,\u201d said Crimson Tuft, softly. \u201cIf in some way I can\nserve you, I shall be only too happy.\u201d He, too, had heard the soothing\nsong.\n\n\u201cCrimson Tuft,\u201d she replied, \u201cI am not now so strong as I was twenty\ngood years ago, and I want some one near me whom I can trust, for I\nhave affairs that must be attended to now--some one who will not cheat\nme out of my gold. I have looked carefully about, and can see no one\nbut you--you, whom I have trained, educated, and cared for so many\nyears. The world is so ungrateful and wicked! Even you, who owe every\nthing to me, might rob me--me, an old woman. It would be a wicked\nthing--a great crime!\u201d\n\nThe red, eager eyes of the old woman were fastened upon the face of\nthe young man, and with all her shrewdness she tried to read him. Her\npinched features grew sharper, and her voice shrill as the whistling\nwind. She grasped her staff, and hobbled across the room several times,\nin an excited manner.\n\n\u201cYou are such a curious, ugly fellow. What have _you_ to hope for in\nthe world, save from me? But, if you are faithful, I will advance you.\nBut I can as easily punish as reward.\u201d\n\nThe red blood flushed even the brown cheek of the boy, for he was\npainfully conscious of his extreme ugliness, and he thought sadly of\nthe Donna Leota.\n\n\u201cListen, boy,\u201d continued the old woman. \u201cThere is a great world beyond\nthese walls. Can I trust you to go away over the waters with me?\nRemember all I promise you, and be faithful.\u201d\n\nShe looked steadfastly into the luminous eyes of Crimson Tuft, that\ndilated with pleasurable exultation. She was evidently satisfied with\nthe truth and sincerity she saw beaming there, for she proceeded:--\n\n\u201cI must go again to Mexico, but not alone. The Donna Leota will\naccompany me, for in the years to come I can not be separated from her.\nAnd you must go, as I shall need you. I am very rich, and must trust\nyou with a great secret; but I have studied you well.\u201d\n\n\u201cSe\u00f1ora,\u201d said Crimson Tuft, eagerly, \u201cI will be true to you; you shall\nnever regret.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwear it!\u201d she said, fiercely.\n\nSo the young boy knelt, and pressed the good book to his lips,\nrepeating after her a most solemn oath, to serve her faithfully, and\nkeep sacred the great secret, which was to be revealed to Leota only,\nin case of the grandmother\u2019s death.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d she said, \u201cI am weary. To-morrow I will tell you all.\u201d And she\nleaned back in the arm-chair, and shaded her eyes with her fan. Crimson\nTuft went out, with his heart beating wild in a tumult of conflicting\nemotions.\n\nOn the morrow, again she called him to the library, and locked the door.\n\n\u201cI have made my will,\u201d she said, \u201cand you are handsomely provided for,\nin consideration of your proving faithful to the trust I repose in you.\nBesides this, while I live, you shall never want for gold. Is it all\nfully understood?\u201d\n\nThen Crimson Tuft said, \u201cIt is understood, se\u00f1ora, fully.\u201d And she\ntook from her desk a carefully sealed paper, which she wrapped in\nsheep-skin, and, again sealing it, gave it to the boy. \u201cThis paper,\u201d\nshe said, \u201cdescribes the exact spot where a great treasure is hidden\nupon my hacienda, near the City of Mexico. There is no chance of your\ngaining this for yourself for there are two other persons living who\nhave similar papers; indeed, precautions, that I shall not tell you of,\nhave been taken, so that it must fall to the Donna Leota at last, for\nshe is the only true heiress. You see I am cautious, very cautious,\u201d\nshe added, the old look of suspicion rising in her face.\n\nFrom this day Crimson Tuft was her chief adviser. He and the dwarf made\nall preparations for the journey. In about a week all was ready, and\nthey went to San Francisco in a carriage, which drove immediately down\nto the steamer, and they were soon comfortably settled on board.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Crimson Tuft, \u201cthere is still time, and I can walk\nabout the city for half an hour.\u201d But the se\u00f1ora grew excited, and\nexclaimed, \u201cNo! no! you might get lost; remember, you are a stranger.\u201d\nAnd the Donna Leota said, softly, \u201cSurely, you will not go away!\u201d\n\nSo the dwarf performed all the commissions, and for an hour the se\u00f1ora\nwas absent; but, before leaving, she had said to Crimson Tuft, \u201cI leave\nthe Donna Leota in your care.\u201d\n\nAt length the ship sailed. Then came the long, sluggish, dreamy days\nat sea. Crimson Tuft and Leota were often together upon the deck, for\nthe old se\u00f1ora would not allow her there alone. What golden days they\nwere to the poor Crimson Tuft. More and more he was growing to love the\npretty young se\u00f1orita, and she could not resist the powerful spell of\nhis luminous eyes.\n\nOne night she rushed wildly through the saloon to his state-room. The\ngrandmother had been taken suddenly very ill, and must see Crimson\nTuft.\n\nShe breathed with great difficulty, and her words came low and broken:\n\u201cIf I live to reach Mexico, you will not need this paper; but I am\nold,\u201d she added, bitterly, \u201cand the old must die.\u201d\n\nWith great pain she went on: \u201cIf I should not live to reach the\nhacienda, you will see the child has her own. Dig up the treasure\nyourself, and do not defraud her of one single gold piece, or the curse\nof a dying woman will follow you, even from the darkness of the grave.\u201d\nThen again Crimson Tuft promised, and, taking the paper, left her alone\nwith \u201cthe child,\u201d as she still fondly called the Donna Leota.\n\nThis attack passed away, but another soon followed, and again Crimson\nTuft was summoned to her side. Her glazed eye brightened as she saw\nhim. \u201cRemember,\u201d was all she could say, and again he made the solemn\npromise. It was the third and last time. With the old se\u00f1ora all was\nnow over.\n\nLeota trembled with fear, and wept bitterly. The grandmother had loved\nher, and now there was no one left, only Crimson Tuft, who sat by her\nside all through the silent hours.\n\nThe next evening, at sunset, the old se\u00f1ora was buried in the sea.\n\nNo one wept but the beautiful young maiden, as the steamer went on,\nleaving in its wake the cold, lifeless body, wrapped in its shroud of\nsparkling waters.\n\nAt length the good ship arrived safely in Mexico, and Crimson Tuft took\nthe proud young heiress to the hacienda, where a crowd of friends and\nretainers awaited her.\n\nThe will was opened, and there was a large legacy left to Crimson Tuft.\nBut it was as nothing to him. With so much ugliness, what had he to\nhope for!\n\nIn the last paper the se\u00f1ora had handed him, there was a still fuller\ndescription of the spot where the treasure was hidden, and a night\nappointed for him to seek it. It was the eighteenth birthnight of the\nDonna Leota. Till then, she was to be placed in a convent, and Crimson\nTuft was to have the best tutors in the City of Mexico. This would make\na man of him.\n\nSo the young people were separated for a time, but the two years soon\nrolled by, and Crimson Tuft returned to the hacienda with his papers.\n\nWhat a change there was in him. His brown, dark face had grown every\nday more fair, and his stiff red hair more soft and silky, and of\na rich brown color. It was really wonderful. The young man was\ntransformed, day by day, from the ugly Crimson Tuft to the handsome\nPaul.\n\nThe Donna Leota had become the beautiful woman that her childhood\npromised, and when she met Paul after the two years of separation, she\nfelt that the great mystery was solved, and knew that she could never\nlove any one else. So they were betrothed, and she was to be made his\nwife on her eighteenth birthday.\n\nAt the appointed time, Paul sought and found the great treasure that\nhad been hidden for so long. There were immense iron pots, full of\nshining gold pieces, that had been hidden during one of the many\nMexican revolutions. Thus it was found that the Donna Leota was the\nrichest maiden in all Mexico, and she had many suitors among the\nwealthy Spanish hidalgoes; but she cared only for Paul, for the spell\nof the wonderful eyes, which had been Crimson Tuft\u2019s, was upon her.\n\nAt last, the joyous wedding-day came, and every one said, \u201cWhat a\ntall, handsome se\u00f1or is the bridegroom, and how very lovely the bride.\nThe sun shines upon them and it will be a happy marriage.\u201d\n\nSoon after, they went to San Francisco, and Paul felt the old dream\nreturning.\n\nOne day, as he walked through the market-place, he came to a vegetable\nstand. Behind it sat a sorrowful woman, with a sad, mild face, that\nwoke the sleeping memories of his heart. \u201cMother!\u201d he exclaimed, with\na thrill of tenderness in his voice that raised the bowed head of the\nlonely one. She gave one look into the eyes that, once seen, could\nnever be forgotten, and cried, \u201cPaul! my son, my son!\u201d and opening her\narms, received upon her bosom the head of her long lost treasure.\n\nHow she wept, and smiled, and pressed him to her heart; then held him\noff, that she might gaze upon the dear handsome face.\n\nThen they went home to the father, who was old and sick. He had lost\nstrength and heart years ago, and they were very poor. \u201cHe has never\nheld up his head,\u201d so the mother said, \u201csince our boy was taken from\nus.\u201d\n\nBut that was all over; the lost was found; poverty, sorrow, and\nsickness fled with his presence.\n\nHe took the old father and mother home to Leota, who received them into\nher own heart; for, were they not his parents and hers?\n\nAt first the old vegetable woman stood a little in awe of her high-born\ndaughter, but that soon melted away in the warmth of the dainty little\nSe\u00f1ora\u2019s affection; and the father, mother, son, and daughter, lived\nall their lives together, a happy family, united in heart and mind by\nthe silken bonds of a true, earnest affection.\n\n\n\n\nSNOWDROP AND ROSEBUD.\n\nA CALIFORNIA STORY.\n\n\nYears ago, before the gold-seekers came to California, there lived at\nthe Mission of San Gabriel, a Spaniard, whose beautiful vineyard was\nadmired by all the country.\n\nIn early life he had been a great traveler, and while in Germany, he\nmet a fair golden-haired maiden, whom he loved and married. After a\nfew years he emigrated to America, and settled at the Mission of San\nGabriel--near the town of Los Angeles.\n\nThere he prospered greatly, his cattle increased to great herds,\ncovering the green hill-sides, and his vineyard was the pride of his\nheart. He built a pleasant house, and surrounded it with a garden\nfilled with all kinds of fruit. In that delicious climate, fruits of\nthe tropic and temperate zones grow together; while the white flowers\nof the North, and their crimson-hued sisters of the South, blossom side\nby side.\n\nThere seemed nothing wanting to make his happiness complete but\nchildren. The house was too silent; he wished for the silvery laughter\nof childish voices; he longed to press little ones to his heart, and\ncall them his own.\n\nAt last, God gave him two little girls; but the fair, golden-haired\nmother lived only to bless them, and was then buried by the clear \u201cLake\nof the Tul\u00e9s.\u201d At first he was inconsolable, and for months refused to\nsee his little ones; but one day, while he slept, the old Indian nurse\ntook them into his room, and laid them on the bed by his side.\n\nLittle Snowdrop nestled in his bosom, but Rosebud ran her fingers into\nhis beard, and pulled it so hard that she woke him. There she was, when\nhe opened his eyes, crowing with delight--her little rosy lips close to\nhis, and the fair Snowdrop in his bosom.\n\nThen all the father\u2019s love, which had only slept, awoke, and he pressed\nthe little ones to his heart, weeping; but especially he loved the\nbeautiful Snowdrop, she was so like her mother.\n\nAfter this, although he still mourned greatly for his wife, he loved\nthese little ones very dearly; and as years passed by, became happy in\nthe absorbing devotion to them, which filled his whole heart.\n\nHe watched over them with the most jealous care. Even in childhood,\nhe would not allow them to play with other children; and as they grew\nolder, his fear was awakened lest some of the young se\u00f1ors of Los\nAngeles should see and fall in love with them. For his daughters to\nform a m\u00e8salliance, he was quite sure would break his heart.\n\nAs he was obliged often to go from home on business, he employed an old\nIndian woman as duenna, and charged her never to allow the girls out of\nher sight for a moment.\n\nRosebud was a Spanish girl, with purple-tinged hair, soft black eyes,\nand clear olive complexion. Through the satin skin the warm blood\nflushed her cheeks, and her lips were more tempting than ripe cherries;\nbut Snowdrop was a rare German maiden in complexion, clear and fair as\nthe noonday. Her eyes were like violets. Her hair in the sunshine was\nlike fine spun gold, and so long that it reached to her feet, and hung\nlike a mantle of glory about her.\n\nIt was no wonder the old man guarded his daughters so carefully; for\nthough so different, they were equally beautiful, and all the young men\nof good family were anxious to pay court to them.\n\nDay by day they sat upon the piazza of the inner court, reading the\nfascinating romances of old Spain, which was to them the dreamland of\ndelight. They longed very much to go out, and see something of life\namong the rich Spanish families about San Gabriel and Los Angeles, but\ntheir father would not allow it; and the old duenna was always near\nthem; even when they walked through the vineyard or the orange orchard,\nshe followed them.\n\nOne day, Rosebud called Snowdrop into the garden, and sitting under a\nlarge almond-tree, she said: \u201cLook over this book of prints with me,\nwhile we talk softly, for the duenna must not hear every thing.\u201d\n\nSnowdrop rested her golden tresses upon her sister\u2019s arm, and, turning\nover the leaves of the book, they talked together.\n\n\u201cSister dear,\u201d said Rosebud, \u201cwe lead a very dull life here. All young\ngirls are gay and happy. What is the use of being beautiful, with no\none to see us but servants and old women?\u201d A look of conscious beauty\ngathered around her pouting lips, as she ran her dainty fingers through\nthe silken meshes of her sister\u2019s golden hair.\n\n\u201cOur dear papa loves us,\u201d said Snowdrop, \u201cbut I do wish to be loved\nby others,\u201d she added--her violet eyes softening, and a faint flush\nspreading over her fair cheeks and neck.\n\n\u201cAnd I to be admired! but how can we be either?\u201d replied Rosebud,\n\u201cshut up here, with the old duenna to watch every thing we do? God made\nus beautiful, and I\u2019m sure he intended us to be seen. And for my part,\nI am determined to go to the consul\u2019s grand ball, if I have to run\naway!\u201d and her pretty dark eyes filled with tears.\n\n\u201cOh! sister Rosebud, think of the dear papa!\u201d said Snowdrop.\n\n\u201cHe did not tell us not to go out of the garden alone; he only told\nthe duenna to watch us. If we could only manage her,\u201d said Rosebud,\nthoughtfully.\n\n\u201cI am afraid it would not be right,\u201d replied Snowdrop, \u201cbut I want\nto go very much. We will make an altar-cloth, and embroider it with\ngold, as an offering to the Blessed Virgin. Perhaps she will pity our\nloneliness, and help us.\u201d\n\nSo they wrought an altar-cloth of purple and gold, and spread it upon\nthe altar, before the picture of the Blessed Mother, in their own\nchamber; putting vases of beautiful flowers upon it. When it was\nfinished they were quite happy, and sat down with their guitars, and\nsang very sweetly together, till their father came home.\n\nThe next morning, an old Mexican woman, with baskets of trinkets for\nsale, knocked at the garden gate.\n\nWhen she was admitted, she spread out her finery before the young\nse\u00f1oritas. The duenna hastened to the piazza where they were\nsitting--for no one was more fond of looking over the _vendedora\u2019s_\nbasket than she, always finding something she could not do without\namong its tempting stores--this time it was a gay-colored shawl, and\nshe ran away for her purse.\n\nAs soon as she was out of sight, the old woman whispered:--\n\n\u201cPretty se\u00f1oritas, I have charms to sell. This will make you admired,\nand this loved,\u201d she said, holding up two curious little bags--one tied\nwith long pink ribbon, the other with blue--\u201cand this,\u201d pointing to a\nthird, \u201cwill make you sleep. It contains a powder. You must drop one\ngrain into a glass of water. It is perfectly tasteless, but it brings\non a sleep so profound, that until the effect passes away, nothing\ncould awaken you from pleasant dreams.\u201d\n\nThe young girls bought the charms. Snowdrop took the one tied with blue\nribbon, and placing it in her bosom, whispered, \u201cNow I may be loved.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I will be admired,\u201d said Rosebud, taking the other; but the charm\nfor sleep she concealed in her pocket, just as the old duenna returned,\neager for her purchases.\n\n\u201cI have pretty slippers for little dancing feet,\u201d said the old woman,\nholding up two pairs of the daintiest white satin slippers you could\nimagine.\n\n\u201cThe se\u00f1oritas have no use for them,\u201d exclaimed the duenna, frowning;\nbut the young girls found that they fitted so nicely, and looked so\npretty, they bought them.\n\n\u201cPapa is rich enough to give us any thing we want, and we fancy these,\u201d\nsaid Rosebud. They bought strings of beads, ribbons, and combs for\ntheir hair, until the old duenna was nearly frantic. What they could\nwant of all these, shut up as they were, she could not tell.\n\nThen Rosebud said:--\u201cWe will have some new dresses;\u201d so they bought\nfine white muslin and lace. Snowdrop bought a bright-colored\nhandkerchief, which she gave the duenna, who was so much pleased that\nshe promised to help them make their dresses.\n\nAs soon as the old woman went away, they all sat upon the piazza,\nshaded with vines, and commenced cutting and stitching upon the\ndelicate fabric so busily, that by evening the skirts of their dresses\nwere quite finished.\n\nThe next morning they were early at work again.\n\n\u201cWhy do you hurry so much,\u201d said the duenna, who never liked to work\nvery long at a time.\n\n\u201cTo have it over the sooner, dear duenna,\u201d answered Snowdrop, smiling\nso sweetly that the duenna took her needle again quite pleasantly.\n\nSnowdrop\u2019s dress was trimmed with blue ribbon, Rosebud\u2019s with crimson\nand gold. The young girls wrought upon them all their pretty fancies,\ntill, when they were finished, the duenna thought them beautiful enough\nfor a queen.\n\nAt evening the work was all done; and the duenna, quite fatigued with\nher unaccustomed task, sat dozing in her arm-chair.\n\nSuddenly she roused herself, exclaiming:--\u201cHow warm it is! I am very\nthirsty.\u201d\n\nRosebud jumped up quickly, saying, \u201cI will bring you fresh water;\u201d so\nshe ran down to the spring at the foot of the garden, and there she met\nthe faithful old Miguel--who had been in the family for years before\nshe was born, and loved the young se\u00f1oritas as though they were his own\nchildren.\n\nRosebud caught him by the arm, and whispered:--\u201cHave the horses at the\nback garden-gate to-night at nine o\u2019clock, you dear old Miguel, for you\nshall take us to the consul\u2019s ball.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the se\u00f1or?\u201d said the old servant, in astonishment.\n\n\u201cNever mind the se\u00f1or, you dear, careful man.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the duenna?\u201d he continued.\n\n\u201cNever mind! never mind! I tell you I will go! so be sure you are ready\nin time,\u201d said Rosebud, laughing, and shaking her finger as she ran\naway.\n\nPoor old Miguel was in a great dilemma. He loved the pretty se\u00f1oritas,\nand wanted to help them; but he feared the se\u00f1or.\n\n\u201cIt may cost me my place; and in this family I have lived, and here I\nwould die; but my pretty children are so lonely, it is too bad to shut\nthem up--and old Miguel will not fail them.\u201d\n\nThus his fond love for the fair girls he had carried in his arms in\ntheir helpless infancy, conquered his discretion; and he went to the\nstable to groom the horses.\n\nRosebud brought the water--clear, cool, and sparkling--to the old\nduenna, and she drank it eagerly in her thirst, little dreaming of the\nsleep-charm the gay young se\u00f1orita had dropped into the cup.\n\nAlmost instantly she became very drowsy, and, closing her eyes, she\nfell asleep in her chair. In a short time her heavy breathing told how\nsurely the charm had taken effect.\n\n\u201cNow for the ball!\u201d said Rosebud. So the young girls dressed themselves\nquickly, but with great care--looping their sleeves with rare flowers\nfrom the garden, and tying their ribbons very tastefully.\n\n\u201cI think we shall do,\u201d said Rosebud, looking at the beautiful girl\nreflected from her mirror, then at the softer beauty of her sister.\n\nSnowdrop answered by a kiss, and they went out softly, and down the\ngarden path to the gate, where the faithful Miguel waited for them.\n\nAn hour\u2019s ride brought them to the brilliantly lighted mansion of the\nconsul, and all the young se\u00f1ors were delighted at the arrival of the\nfair sisters.\n\nNo one was so much courted and admired, among all the fair se\u00f1oritas\nat the ball that night, as Snowdrop and Rosebud; and none of the gay\nhidalgoes were more happy than old Miguel, who was peeping from behind\nthe hall door, enjoying the triumph of his darlings. At last he became\nuneasy, and, approaching them with a respectful bow, told them it was\ntime to go home.\n\nTaking special leave of their host and hostess, bowing gracefully to\nthe guests, they started for home--leaving all, admirers, and many\nlovers behind them.\n\nWhen they entered their chamber, they found the duenna still sleeping\nsoundly. They undressed themselves noiselessly, putting away all their\nclothes but their slippers, which they forgot.\n\nIn the morning, when the sun arose, the duenna awoke, and was much\nsurprised to find herself sitting in a chair, instead of being in bed.\n\nShe had but a confused recollection of things, and began to think she\nmust have taken a little more wine than she intended at dinner the day\nbefore. She thought she remembered Rosebud giving her a glass of water\nwhen she was very thirsty, but she was not sure that it might not have\nbeen wine.\n\nShe looked around, but could discover nothing to help her. The two\ngirls were sleeping soundly, and upon the face of Rosebud there was a\nsmile. She was dreaming of the ball--again surrounded by a crowd of\nadmirers.\n\nSnowdrop dreamed of the dear papa; he was angry with them for their\ndisobedience, and her long eyelashes were wet with tears.\n\n\u201cHow different they are in their ways, even in sleep!\u201d said the duenna.\n\nShe turned away, and as her eye fell upon the forgotten slippers, her\nsearching glance detected that they had been worn.\n\n\u201cWhat does this mean? So much worn, and bought yesterday! \u2019Tis very\nstrange!\u201d mused she, and put them in her pocket.\n\nShe woke the young girls, but they fell asleep again. They were so\nunused to dancing late at night, that they were very tired; and when\nthe bell rang for breakfast, they did not appear.\n\n\u201cWhere are my dear daughters?\u201d said the father, with a clouded face.\n\nShe could only tell him that they were still asleep, and seemed very\ntired.\n\n\u201cSo are my horses,\u201d replied he, angrily; \u201cbut I will see about this.\u201d\n\nThe duenna was afraid to show him the shoes, lest he should blame her;\nbut in her confusion, as she drew her handkerchief from her pocket, one\nof them dropped out upon the floor.\n\n\u201cWhat is this?\u201d said the se\u00f1or, sternly; and she was obliged to tell\nhim all she knew.\n\nFor some time the troubled father walked the floor with great agitation\nwithout speaking, while the duenna stood trembling before him. Then,\nturning to her quickly, he said:--\n\n\u201cCall my daughters;\u201d and he rang the bell for Miguel.\n\nAll three came into the room with fearful hearts; but Snowdrop\u2019s face\nwas covered with her golden hair, and the tears were shining through\nit.\n\nTurning to Miguel, he said, sternly, with a black frown covering his\nwhole face:--\n\n\u201cStand here, and tell me how it is, that this morning I find my horses\nreeking with foam?\u201d\n\nThe old man only answered, \u201cI alone am to blame, se\u00f1or. Pardon your old\nservant, who loves you and yours!\u201d and he clasped his hands, and looked\nimploringly at the dark, angry face that frowned upon him.\n\nThen Snowdrop could bear it no longer, so she ran to the\nfather--throwing her white arms around his neck, and resting her\ngolden-crowned head upon his bosom, she said:--\n\n\u201cDear papa, I will tell you all! Only do not blame dear, good old\nMiguel.\u201d\n\nThen she told him of all their loneliness, and eager longings for\ncompanions of their own age; about the altar-cloth and all, without\nreserving one thing. \u201cAnd now we are sorry; it was wrong; but the dear\npapa will forgive!\u201d and she raised her pretty face, all shining with\ntears, and begged him to kiss her.\n\nHow like her mother she was! and the father thought of the sunny days\nof his youth, when he had wandered on the banks of the Rhine with the\nfair German maiden, and wondered how he could forget that the young and\nardent hearts of his children must be like the heart of his youth.\n\nHe kissed the innocent face upturned to his, and forgave them, saying,\n\u201cI, too, have been to blame; and, in future, I will go with you to all\nplaces, my darlings, where it is proper, and right for you to go.\u201d\n\nSnowdrop and Rosebud were delighted, and willingly promised never\nagain to deceive \u201cthe dear papa;\u201d and from that day there was mutual\nconfidence and love between the young girls and the father.\n\nAfter a time, when two brave and gallant knights sought of the father\nthe hands of the fair se\u00f1oritas in marriage, he answered, \u201cLet the\nhearts of my dear children decide for you. My only wish is to see them\nhappy.\u201d\n\nThere was a great feast made at their marriage; and the old Spanish\nhouse, so long wrapped in seclusion, resounded with joyous music and\nthe merry laughter of light hearts. Again old Miguel stood behind the\ndoor, and rejoiced to see his darlings loved, admired, and happy.\n\n\n\n\nLAZARUS AND BUMMER.\n\n\nIt was a dark rainy day in the land where the rain makes the winter,\nand the sunshine and blue sky the pleasant summer-time.\n\nThrough the Golden Gate, came the ship to the new city of hope, and all\nthe people on board thought, \u201chow happy and rich we shall become in the\nGold Land. Though the city is now only a miserable place of tents and\nsand hills, one day how great it will be, and we shall live to see it.\nThe fair Golden City.\u201d\n\nOn the rude wharf stood the expectant crowd. To them the ship was the\nbeautiful carrier-dove, with its white wings spread to bring them news\nof home.\n\n\u201cPerhaps there will be some one from the old home,\u201d said a young man,\nwith his brown eyes filled with eager longing. \u201cThe dark old Atlantic!\nhow its breakers used to dash upon the rocks in sight of home. It was\nglorious. To-morrow will be Christmas! I wonder, will they remember\nall, as I do!\u201d\n\nBy his side stood a great shaggy dog, who belonged to nobody.\n\nHe talked only in the dog language, but was very learned, and\nunderstood all the young man said. He was a wonderful dog, and had his\nthoughts. \u201cI am my own master,\u201d he said, \u201cand that is pleasant--yet one\nlikes to be cared for, and nobody cares for me. I shall get no news\nfrom home, and to-morrow will be Christmas. This is not as it should\nbe; I must see to it.\u201d\n\nThe great dog was getting quite out of temper, and, with a surly growl,\nhe turned round so quickly, that he gave the young man a start.\n\n\u201cOne would think the dog was mad,\u201d said he, \u201conly it is not the\nseason.\u201d Then he looked out again hopefully to the coming ship.\n\nThe great dog ran round the corner, and through the wet streets all day.\n\nThe steamer had arrived, and there were new faces looking eagerly about\nfor old familiar ones, and the old were looking for the new; so there\nwas altogether a great bustle such as was never seen, only in those\nearly days when the ships came in from home. Thus the day passed, and\nthe evening came on, raining dismally--yet it was Christmas eve.\n\nIn a dark alley sat the great dog. His shaggy coat kept him warm, yet\nit was very desolate there alone.\n\n\u201cOne should have something to live for,\u201d growled he, \u201csomething to take\ncare of and protect, or there is no use in being strong and brave. One\nmight as well be a puny poodle, and sit by the parlor fire,\u201d and he\ngave an ugly bark, \u201cbow, wow, wow! one should have an object in life.\u201d\n\nJust then he heard a low moan, and looking round, he saw a poor lame\ndog, very thin and sick, lying down in the mud, and ready to die of\nhunger.\n\nIt was really quite wretched, and all the great dog\u2019s sympathies were\naroused. \u201cThere _is_ an object, to be sure,\u201d he said. \u201cIt is Christmas\neve, and the good Santa Claus has taken pity on me, and given me this\npoor fellow, who needs me as much as I do him. What a zest life has,\nwhen one has something to live for.\u201d\n\nWithout any useless ceremony, he raised the poor dog, and tenderly as\nthe mother dog carries her little ones, he bore him to a warm, dry\nplace, and made him a nice bed of clean straw.\n\n\u201cThis is better, my friend,\u201d said the noble creature, quite flushed and\nhappy with the pleasure of doing a kind act. \u201cWhat more can I do for\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am famishing with hunger,\u201d replied the lame dog, with a feeble\ngroan, and off went his great shaggy protector, through rain and mud,\nto a restaurant, and there the cook gave him a bone, saying, \u201ctake it,\nyou Bummer.\u201d\n\nHe caught the bone, and running off as fast as possible, in a few\nmoments laid it before the lame dog.\n\nIt was a rich bone, and had a delicious smell that was quite reviving\nto the sick one.\n\nIt was so pleasant to see the poor hungry fellow eat, that Bummer could\nnot leave him until he had finished. \u201cI never enjoyed a bone so much\nin my life,\u201d said Bummer, as he tucked the warm straw around his new\nfriend, and saw him closing his eyes with a pleasant satisfied languor.\n\n\u201cThis is something like living,\u201d added he, with a lively bark, as he\nran back to the restaurant for his own dinner.\n\n\u201cComing again, Bummer?\u201d said the jolly, red-faced cook, throwing him\nanother bone, which he ate with a famous relish.\n\nIn the morning he went back again to the restaurant, serving the sick\ndog first, and again at night, and day after day, till he became the\njolly cook\u2019s regular pensioner.\n\nAt the restaurant they grew quite curious to know what became of the\nfirst bone, and sent some one to follow Bummer, who came back telling\nthe strange story, and saying, \u201cit is really quite wonderful.\u201d\n\nThen every one talked of it, and soon the whole town came to know the\ntwo dogs, and called them Bummer and Lazarus.\n\nIn the pleasant days they walked out together, Bummer always watching\nover Lazarus with the tenderest care. It was really a pleasant sight to\nsee them, they were so happy together.\n\nThus time passed away, making no change in the protecting devotion of\nBummer, nor the trusting love of Lazarus.\n\nBut there must be an end of all things, and at last Lazarus died.\n\nThis was a great sorrow to poor Bummer, and he grew so thin and\nwretched that the jolly cook was quite distressed.\n\n\u201cYou must cheer up, my good Bummer; really it will never do; you _must_\ncheer up.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is all over now,\u201d said the dog, \u201cone must have something to live\nfor. It is no use, one must have an object.\u201d\n\nHe was no longer the Bummer of old, and he went away to the place\nwhere Lazarus rested.\n\n\u201cHe forgot to eat his bone,\u201d said the jolly cook; \u201cpoor fellow, we were\ngetting used to him, and we shall miss him. He belonged to the town--he\nwas \u2018our dog.\u2019\u201d\n\nThis was the last time he went for his bone. It was all over, and\nBummer and Lazarus became a remembrance which has passed into a\ntradition.\n\nThe skin of Bummer was carefully stuffed, and placed in a glass case.\nIt may still be seen in some restaurant on Montgomery Street, where it\nis preserved as a precious relic of the olden time.\n\nThis is a true story, little ones, and no doubt the fathers will tell\nyou, how, in the olden days, he has often seen Bummer and Lazarus.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n\n\n  Text in italics is surrounded with underscores: _italics_.\n\n  Superscripted characters are preceded by a carat character: C^o.\n\n  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.\n\n  Archaic spelling that may have been in use at the time of publication\n    has been retained.\n\n  Errors in the Table of Contents have been corrected.","title":"Fairy Tales from Gold Lands: Second Series","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":32504}