{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5796/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5796","id":"gutenberg_5796","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5796","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's Anthologies","Children's literature","Literature -- Collections"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\nJOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND\n\nA NEW AND ORIGINAL\nPLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE\nWORLD'S BEST LITERATURE\nFOR CHILDREN\n\nBY\nCHARLES H. SYLVESTER\nAuthor of English and American Literature\n\nVOLUME TWO\nNew Edition\n\n1922\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nAESOP\n\nTHE FALCON AND THE PARTRIDGE (From the Arabian Nights)\n\nMINERVA AND THE OWL\n\nTHE SPARROW AND THE EAGLE (From the Arabian Nights)\n\nTHE OLD MAN AND DEATH\n\nINFANT JOY ........ William Blake\n\nTHE BABY ........ George MacDonald\n\nTHE DISCONTENTED STONECUTTER (From the Japanese)\n\nDISCREET HANS ........ Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm\n\nTHE POPPYLAND EXPRESS ........ St. Louis Star Sayings\n\nBLUEBEARD\n\nLULLABY\n\nRUMPELSTILTZKIN ........ Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm\n\nTHE MIRROR OF MATSUYANA (From the Japanese)\n\nA CONTRAST\n\nTHE GOLDEN TOUCH ........ Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\nTHE CHILD'S WORLD ........ W. B. Rands\n\nTHE FIR TREE ........ Hans Christian Andersen\n\nHANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN\n\nPICTURE BOOKS IN WINTER ........ Robert Louis Stevenson\n\nHOW THE WOLF WAS BOUND ........ Adapted by Anna McCaleb\n\nTHE DEATH OF BALDER ........ Adapted by Anna McCaleb\n\nTHE PUNISHMENT OF LOKI ........ Adapted by Anna McCaleb\n\nSEVEN TIMES ONE ........ Jean Ingelow\n\nSHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS ........ Eugene Field\n\nAFTERWHILE ........ James Whitcomb Riley\n\nWINDY NIGHTS ........ Robert Louis Stevenson\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN ........ Hans Christian Andersen\n\nTHE CHIMERA ........ Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\nA VISIT FBOM ST. NICHOLAS ........ Clement C. Moore\n\nTHE STORY OF PHAETHON\n\nTHE ENGLISH ROBIN ........ Harrison Weir\n\nTOM, THE WATER BABY ........ Charles Kingsley\n\nTHE MILKMAID ........ Jeffreys Taylor\n\nHOLGER DANSKE ........ Hans Christian Andersen\n\nWHAT THE OLD MAN DOES is ALWAYS RIGHT ........ Hans Christian Andersen\n\nTHE FAIRIES OF CALDON-LOW ........ Mary Howitt\n\nWHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST? ........ L. Maria Child\n\nTHE FIRST SNOWFALL ........ James Russell Lowell\n\nTHE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER ........ John Ruskin\n\nTHE STORY OF ESTHER\n\nTHE DARNING-NEEDLE ........ Hans Christian Andersen\n\nTHE POTATO ........ Thomas Moore\n\nTHE QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD\n\nORIGIN OF THE OPAL\n\nIN TIME'S SWING ........ Lucy Larcom\n\nWHY THE SEA IS SALT ........ Mary Howitt\n\nPRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES\n\nFor Classification of Selections, see General Index at end of Volume X.\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\nKAY AND GERDA AT PLAY AMONG THE FLOWEBS ... (Color Plate) Arthur\nHenderson\nAESOP (Halftone) ..... From Painting by Velasquez\nTHE OWL ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE SPARROW AND THE EAGLE ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nINFANT JOY ..... Lucille Enders\nJAPANESE GATE ..... Herbert N Rudeen\nTHE STONECUTTER AND HIS SILKEN COUCH ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nEVERYTHING REJOICED IN A NEW GROWTH ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nBLUEBEARD ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE PASS KEY ..... Uncredited\nSHE SLIPPED SILENTLY AWAY ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nSISTER ANN WATCHING FROM THE TOWER ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nRUMPELSTILTZKIN ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nAWAITING THE RETURN OF THE FATHER ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nJAPANESE LANTERN ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nHER GREATEST PLEASURE WAS TO LOOK INTO THE MIRROR ..... Herbert N.\nRudeen\nYEARNING LOVE ..... Lucille Enders\nTHE FIGURE OF A STRANGER IN THE SUNBEAM ..... Arthur Henderson\nMARYGOLD WAS A GOLDEN STATUE ..... Arthur Henderson\nTHE CHILD'S WORLD ..... Marion Miller\nTHE SWALLOWS AND THE STORK CAME ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE FAT MAN TOLD ABOUT KLUMPEY-DUMPEY ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nHANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN ..... (Halftone) Uncredited\nPICTURE BOOKS IN WINTER ..... Iris Weddell White\nTHE GODS WERE AMAZED ..... A. H. Winkler\nHODER HURLED THE DART ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nSTRANGE OPAL LIGHTS FILTERED THROUGH THE WATER ..... A. H. Winkler\nTHOR'S HAND GRIPPED HIM ..... W. O. Reese\nSHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS ..... Lucille Enders\nHOLLYHOCKS ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHE GOBLIN AND THE MIRROR ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE SNOW-FLAKE AT LAST BECAME A MAIDEN ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHEY FLEW OVER WOODS AND LAKES ..... Herbert N Rudeen\n\"HE IS BLOWING BUBBLES\" ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE CROW STOPPED TO LOOK AT HER ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE REINDEER RAN AS FAST AS IT COULD GO ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE SNOW QUEEN'S CASTLE ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nPEGASUS AT THE FOUNTAIN ..... Herbert N Rudeen\nPEGASUS DARTED DOWN ASLANT ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nST. NICHOLAS ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nIN VAIN PHAETHON PULLED AT THE REINS ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHERE WAS A LITTLE CHIMNEY SWEEP, AND HIS NAME WAS TOM ..... Donn P.\nCrane\nTHEY CAME UP WITH A POOR IRISH WOMAN ..... Donn P. Crane\nBEES AND HIVES ..... Donn P. Crane\nHARTHOVER PLACE ..... Donn P. Crane\nALL RAN AFTER TOM ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM LOOKED DOWN THE CLIFF ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHE OLD DAME LOOKED AT TOM ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM LOOKED INTO THE CLEAR WATER ..... Donn P. Crane\nSIR JOHN SEARCHING FOR TOM ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM WAS NOW A WATER BABY ..... Donn P. Crane\n\"OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE!\" SAID TOM ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM ESCAPED THE OTTER ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHE SALMON, KING OF ALL THE FISH ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM ON THE BUOY ..... Donn P. Crane\nPORPOISES ..... Donn P. Crane\nA LOBSTER ..... Donn P. Crane\nELLIE AND THE PROFESSOR ..... Donn P. Crane\nMRS. BEDONEBYASYOUDID ..... Donn P. Crane\nSHE TOOK TOM IN HER ARMS ..... Donn P. Crane\nTOM FOUND THE CABINET ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHE LAST OF THE GAIRFOWL ..... Donn P. Crane\nAND BEHOLD, IT WAS ELLIE ..... Donn P. Crane\nHOLGER DANSKE ..... Arthur Henderson\nTHE FIGUREHEAD ..... Arthur Henderson\n\"MY DEAR GOOD HUSBAND\" ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nTHE FAIRIES OF CALDON-LOW ..... Iris Weddell White\nWHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST? ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\n\"FATHER, WHO MAKES IT SNOW?\" ..... Iris Weddell White\n\"HELLO! I'M WET, LET ME IN\" ..... Donn P. Crane\n\"SORRY TO INCOMMODE YOU\" ..... Donn P. Crane\n\"PRAY SIR, WERE YOU MY MUG?\" ..... Donn P. Crane\n\"THOU HAST HAD THY SHARE OF LIFE\" ..... Donn P. Crane\nHE CAST THE FLASK INTO THE STREAM ..... Donn P. Crane\nTHE DWARF SHOOK THE DROPS INTO THE FLASK ..... Donn P. Crane\nMORDECAI IN THE KING'S GATE ..... Arthur Henderson\nHE PUT ON SACKCLOTH AND ASHES ..... Arthur Henderson\nTHEN HAMAN WAS AFRAID ..... Arthur Henderson\nPLUTO SEIZED PROSERPINA ..... Arthur Henderson\nIN TIME'S SWING ..... Herbert N. Rudeen\nSO THE BARGAIN WAS MADE ..... Mildred Lyon\n\n\n\n\nAESOP\n\n\nMany centuries ago, more than six hundred years before Christ was born,\nthere lived in Greece a man by the name of Aesop. We do not know very\nmuch about him, and no one can tell exactly what he wrote, or even that\nhe ever wrote anything.\n\nWe know he was a slave and much wiser than his masters, but whether he\nwas a fine, shapely man or a hunchback and a cripple we cannot be sure,\nfor different people have written very differently about him.\n\nNo matter what he was or how he lived, many, many stories are still told\nabout him, and the greater part of the fables we all like to read are\nsaid to have been written or told by him, and everybody still calls them\nAesop's fables.\n\nSome of the stories told about him are curious indeed. Here are a few of\nthem.\n\nIn those days men were sold as slaves in the market, as cattle are sold\nnow. One day Aesop and two other men were put up at auction. Xanthus, a\nwealthy man, wanted a slave, and he said to the men: \"What can you do?\"\n\nThe two men bragged large about the things they could do, for both\nwanted a rich master like Xanthus.\n\n\"But what can you do?\" said Xanthus, turning to Aesop.\n\n\"The others can do so much and so well,\" said Aesop, \"that there's\nnothing left for me to do.\"\n\n\"Will you be honest and faithful if I buy you?\"\n\n\"I shall be that whether you buy me or not.\"\n\n\"Will you promise not to run away?\"\n\n\"Did you ever hear,\" answered Aesop, \"of a bird in a cage that promised\nto stay in it?\"\n\nXanthus was so much pleased with the answers that he bought Aesop.\n\nSome time afterward, Xanthus, wishing to give a dinner to some of his\nfriends, ordered Aesop to furnish the finest feast that money could buy.\n\nThe first course Aesop supplied was of tongues cooked in many ways, and\nthe second of tongues and the third and the fourth. Then Xanthus called\nsharply to Aesop:\n\n\"Did I not tell you, sirrah, to provide the choicest dainties that money\ncould procure?\"\n\n\"And what excels the tongue?\" replied Aesop. \"It is the great channel of\nlearning and philosophy. By this noble organ everything wise and good is\naccomplished.\"\n\nThe company applauded Aesop's wit, and good humor was restored.\n\n\"Well,\" said Xanthus to the guests, \"pray do me the favor of dining with\nme again to-morrow. And if this is your best,\" continued he turning to\nAesop, \"pray, to-morrow let us have some of the worst meat you can\nfind.\"\n\nThe next day, when dinner-time came, the guests were assembled. Great\nwas their astonishment and great the anger of Xanthus at finding that\nagain nothing but tongue was put upon the table.\n\n\"How, sir,\" said Xanthus, \"should tongues be the best of meat one day,\nand the worst another?\"\n\n\"What,\" replied Aesop, \"can be worse than the tongue? What wickedness is\nthere under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons, violence,\ninjustice, and fraud are debated and resolved upon by the tongue. It is\nthe ruin of empires, of cities, and of private friendships.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\nAt another time Xanthus very foolishly bet with a scholar that he could\ndrink the sea dry. Alarmed, he consulted Aesop.\n\n\"To perform your wager,\" said Aesop, \"you know is impossible, but I will\nshow you how to evade it.\"\n\nThey accordingly met the scholar, and went with him and a great number\nof people to the seashore, where Aesop had provided a table with several\nlarge glasses upon it, and men who stood around with ladles with which\nto fill the glasses.\n\nXanthus, instructed by Aesop, gravely took his seat at the table. The\nbeholders looked on with astonishment, thinking that he must surely have\nlost his senses.\n\n\"My agreement,\" said he, turning to the scholar, \"is to drink up the\nsea. I said nothing of the rivers and streams that are everywhere\nflowing into it. Stop up these, and I will proceed to fulfill my\nengagement.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\nIt is said that at one time when Xanthus started out on a long journey,\nhe ordered his servants to get all his things together and put them up\ninto bundles so that they could carry them.\n\nWhen everything had been neatly tied up, Aesop went to his master and\nbegged for the lightest bundle. Wishing to please his favorite slave,\nthe master told Aesop to choose for himself the one he preferred to\ncarry. Looking them all over, he picked up the basket of bread and\nstarted off with it on the journey. The other servants laughed at his\nfoolishness, for that basket was the heaviest of all.\n\nWhen dinner-time came, Aesop was very tired, for he had had a difficult\ntime to carry his load for the last few hours. When they had rested,\nhowever, they took bread from the basket, each taking an equal share.\nHalf the bread was eaten at this one meal, and when supper-time came the\nrest of it disappeared.\n\nFor the whole remainder of the journey, which ran far into the night and\nwas over rough roads, up and down hills, Aesop had nothing to carry,\nwhile the loads of the other servants grew heavier and heavier with\nevery step.\n\n The people of the neighborhood in which Aesop was a slave one day\nobserved him attentively looking over some poultry in a pen that was\nnear the roadside; and those idlers, who spent more time in prying into\nother people's affairs than in adjusting their own, asked why he\nbestowed his attention on those animals.\n\n\"I am surprised,\" replied Aesop, \"to see how mankind imitate this\nfoolish animal.\"\n\n\"In what?\" asked the neighbors.\n\n\"Why, in crowing so well and scratching so poorly,\" rejoined Aesop.\n\n[Illustration: \"AESOP\" Painting by Valasquez, Madrid ]\n\n\nFables, you know, are short stories, usually about animals and things,\nwhich are made to talk like human beings. Fables are so bright and\ninteresting in themselves that both children and grown-ups like to read\nthem. Children see first the story, and bye and bye, after they have\nthought more about it and have grown older, they see how much wisdom\nthere is in the fables.\n\nFor an example, there is the fable of the crab and its mother. They were\nstrolling along the sand together when the mother said, \"Child, you are\nnot walking gracefully. You should walk straight forward, without\ntwisting from side to side.\"\n\n\"Pray, mother,\" said the young one, \"if you will set the example, I will\nfollow it.\"\n\nPerhaps children will think the little crab was not very respectful, but\nthe lesson is plain that it is always easier to give good advice than it\nis to follow it.\n\nThere is another, which teaches us to be self-reliant and resourceful. A\ncrow, whose throat was parched and dry with thirst, saw a pitcher in the\ndistance. In great joy he flew to it, but found that it held only a\nlittle water, and even that was too near the bottom to be reached, for\nall his stooping and straining.\n\nNext he tried to overturn the pitcher, thinking that he would at least\nbe able to catch some of the water as it trickled out. But this he was\nnot strong enough to do. In the end he found some pebbles lying near,\nand by dropping them one by one into the pitcher, he managed at last to\nraise the water up to the very brim, and thus was able to quench his\nthirst.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALCON AND THE PARTRIDGE\n\n                       From The Arabian Nights\n\n\nOnce upon a time a Falcon stooped from its flight and seized a\nPartridge; but the latter freed himself from the seizer, and entering\nhis nest, hid himself there. The Falcon followed apace and called out to\nhim, saying:\n\n\"O imbecile, I saw you hungry in the field and took pity on you; so I\npicked up for you some grain and took hold of you that you might eat;\nbut you fled from me, and I know not the cause of your flight, except it\nwere to put upon me a slight. Come out, then, and take the grain I have\nbrought you to eat, and much good may it do you, and with your health\nagree.\"\n\nWhen the Partridge heard these words he believed, and came out to the\nFalcon, who thereupon struck his talons into him and seized him.\n\nCried the Partridge, \"Is this that which you told me you had brought me\nfrom the field, and whereof you told me to eat, saying, 'Much good may\nit do you, and with your health agree?' Thou hast lied to me, and may\nGod cause what you eat of my flesh to be a killing poison in your maw!\"\n\nWhen the Falcon had eaten the Partridge his feathers fell off, his\nstrength failed, and he died on the spot. Know that he who digs for his\nbrother a pit, himself soon falls into it.\n\n\n\n\nMINERVA AND THE OWL\n\n\n\"My most solemn and wise bird,\" said Minerva one day to her Owl, \"I have\nhitherto admired you for your profound silence; but I have now a mind to\nhave you show your ability in discourse, for silence is only admirable\nin one who can, when he pleases, triumph by his eloquence and charm with\ngraceful conversation.\"\n\nThe Owl replied by solemn grimaces, and made dumb signs. Minerva bade\nhim lay aside that affectation and begin; but he only shook his wise\nhead and remained silent. Thereupon Minerva commanded him to speak\nimmediately, on pain of her displeasure.\n\nThe Owl, seeing no remedy, drew up close to Minerva, and whispered very\nsoftly in her ear this sage remark: \"Since the world is grown so\ndepraved, they ought to be esteemed most wise who have eyes to see and\nwit to hold their tongues.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPARROW AND THE EAGLE\n\nFrom The Arabian Nights\n\n\nOnce a Sparrow, flitting over a flock of sheep, saw a great Eagle swoop\ndown upon a newly weaned lamb and carry it up in his claws and fly away.\nThereupon the Sparrow clapped his wings and said, \"I will do even as\nthis Eagle did.\"\n\nSo he waxed proud in his own conceit, and, mimicking one greater than\nhe, flew down forthright and lighted on the back of a fat ram with a\nthick fleece, that was matted by his lying till it was like woolen felt.\nAs soon as the Sparrow pounced upon the sheep's back he flopped his\nwings to fly away, but his feet became tangled in the wool, and, however\nhard he tried, he could not set himself free.\n\nWhile all this was passing, the shepherd was looking on, having seen\nwhat happened first with the Eagle and afterward with the Sparrow. So in\na great rage he came up to the wee birdie and seized him. He plucked out\nhis wing feathers and carried him to his children.\n\n\"What is this?\" asked one of them.\n\n\"This,\" he answered, \"is he that aped a greater than himself and came to\ngrief.\"\n\nThe Old Man and Death\n\nA poor and toil-worn peasant, bent with years and groaning beneath the\nweight of a heavy fagot of firewood which he carried, sought, weary and\nsore-footed, to gain his distant cottage. Unable to bear the weight of\nhis burden longer, he let it fall by the roadside, and lamented his hard\nfate.\n\n\"What pleasure have I known since I first drew breath in this sad world?\nFrom dawn to dusk it has been hard work and little pay! At home is an\nempty cupboard, a discontented wife, and lazy and disobedient children!\nO Death! O Death! come and free me from my troubles!\"\n\nAt once the ghostly King of Terrors stood before him and asked, \"What do\nyou want with me?\"\n\n\"Noth-nothing,\" stammered the frightened peasant, \"except for you to\nhelp me put again upon my shoulders the bundle of fagots I have let\nfall!\"\n\n\n\n\nINFANT JOY\n\nBy William Blake\n\n\n\"I have no name;\n  I am but two days old.\"\n\"What shall I call thee?\"\n  \"I happy am;\nJoy is my name.\"\nSweet joy befall thee!\n\nPretty Joy!\nSweet Joy, but two days old.\nSweet Joy I call thee:\n  Thou dost smile:\n  I sing the while,\n\"Sweet joy befall thee!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BABY\n\nBy George Macdonald\n\n\nWhere did you come from, baby dear?\nOut of the everywhere into the here.\n\nWhere did you get your eyes so blue?\nOut of the sky as I came through.\n\nWhat makes the light in them sparkle and spin?\nSome of the starry spikes left in.\n\nWhere did you get that little tear?\nI found it waiting when I got here.\n\nWhat makes your forehead so smooth and high?\nA soft hand stroked it as I went by.\n\nWhat makes your cheek like a warm white rose?\nSomething better than any one knows.\n\nWhence that three-cornered smile of bliss?\nThree angels gave me at once a kiss.\n\nWhere did you get that pearly ear?\nGod spoke, and it came out to hear.\n\nWhere did you get those arms and hands?\nLove made itself into hooks and bands.\n\nFeet, whence did you come, you darling things?\nFrom the same box as the cherub's wings.\n\nHow did they all just come to be you?\nGod thought about me, and so I grew.\n\nBut how did you come to us, you dear?\nGod thought of YOU, and so I am here.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DISCONTENTED STONECUTTER\n\nAdapted from the Japanese\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man who worked from early morning till late\nat night cutting building stones out of the solid rock. His pay was\nsmall and hardly enough to keep his wife and children from starving. So\nthe poor stonecutter grew discontented and sighed and moaned bitterly\nover his hard lot.\n\nOne day when his work seemed harder than usual and his troubles more\nthan he could bear he cried out in despair:\n\n\"Oh, I wish I could be rich and lie at ease on a soft couch with a\ncurtain of red silk!\"\n\nJust then a beautiful fairy floated down from heaven, and softly said,\n\"Thy wish is granted thee.\" So the poor stonecutter found himself rich\nand powerful and resting easily on his silken couch with its red\ncurtain. As he gazed out, however, he saw the king of the country ride\nby with many horsemen before and behind him, and with a great golden\nsunshade held over his head. It irritated the rich man to have no\nparasol over his head and to see another more powerful than himself, and\nin his discontentment he exclaimed, \"Would that I were a king such as\nthat one.\"\n\nOnce again his good fairy appeared, waved his wand, and said, \"It shall\nbe as thou desirest.\" Immediately the man was king, and before him and\nbehind him rode his men-at-arms, and over his head was a golden\nsunshade. But elsewhere the sun shone fiercely down and dried up the\nvegetation with its terrible heat. It was reflected into the\nface of the king so that even the golden sunshade did not keep him from\nsuffering. Once more he sighed discontentedly, \"If I could only be the\nsun!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE STONECUTTER AND HIS SILKEN COUCH]\n\nAlmost before he spoke he found himself to be the sun, and he began\njoyously to send his fiery rays above, below and everywhere roundabout\nhim. He scorched the grass of the earth, and burned the faces of its\nrulers and felt his power unlimited until a little cloud placed itself\nbetween him and the earth and threw back his scorching rays. It still\nangered him to find something more powerful than himself, and he wished\naloud that he might be the cloud.\n\n[Illustration: EVERYTHING REJOICED IN A NEW GROWTH]\n\nAgain his wish was granted, and he found himself floating where he\nwished through the sky. He ran between the sun and the earth and\nsheltered the latter so that the grass grew green, the trees leaved out\nagain, and everything rejoiced in a new growth. Then he sent great\nfloods of rain upon the earth, filled the rivers till they overflowed,\nswept homes and herds into the sea, and destroyed the works of man in\nevery direction. But try as he would he could not move one great rock\nthat stood right across his way. Though he sent waters that roared\naround its base and pushed hard against it, yet it remained immovable.\nSuch a failure angered the man-cloud, and again he cried out, \"Would\nthat I were a rock, so strong and immovable is it.\"\n\nThis time, also, his guardian angel interfered, and he found himself a\nrock that withstood the sun, the wind and the waters. But then, one day,\nthere came along a rude stonecutter, who with chisel and heavy hammer\nbegan to cut the great rock into small, regular building stones. \"What\ndoes this mean?\" cried the rock. \"Has this man power to cut me in\npieces? Surely I am weaker than he! Would I were a stonecutter!\"\n\n\"As thou wishest, so shall it be,\" said his guardian angel, and\nimmediately he was again a stonecutter, working hard as before and for\nsmall wages, but happy and contented with his lot.\n\n\n\n\nDISCREET HANS\n\nBy Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm\n\n\nHans's mother asked, \"Whither are you going, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's,\" replied he.\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I will take care; good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good day,\" replied Grethel. \"What treasure do you bring today?\"\n\n\"I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel presented Hans with a needle.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" said he.\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the needle, stuck it in a load of hay, and walked home behind\nthe wagon.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"And what have you given her?\"\n\n\"Nothing; she has given me something.\"\n\n\"What has Grethel given you?\"\n\n\"A needle,\" said Hans.\n\n\"And where have you put it?\"\n\n\"In the load of hay.\"\n\n\"Then you have behaved stupidly, Hans; you should put needles on your\ncoat sleeve.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing at all,\" thought Hans.\n\n\"Whither are you going, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I will take care; good-bye mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?\"\n\n\"I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel gave Hans a knife.\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the knife, put it in his sleeve and went home.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"And what did you take to her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing; she has given something to me.\"\n\n\"And what did she give you?\"\n\n\"A knife,\" said Hans.\n\n\"And where have you put it?\"\n\n\"In my sleeve.\"\n\n\"Then you have behaved foolishly again, Hans; you should put knives in\nyour pocket.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing at all,\" thought Hans.\n\n\"Whither are you going, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I will take care; good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?\"\n\n\"I bring nothing; have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel gave Hans a young goat.\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the goat, tied its legs and put it in his pocket. Just as he\nreached home it was suffocated.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"And what did you take to her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing; she gave to me.\"\n\n\"And what did Grethel give you?\"\n\n\"A goat.\"\n\n\"Where did you put it, Hans?\"\n\n\"In my pocket.\"\n\n\"There you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have tied the goat with a\nrope.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing,\" thought Hans.\n\n\"Whither away, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I will take care; good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?\"\n\n\"I have nothing. Have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel gave Hans a piece of bacon.\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the bacon, tied it with a rope, and swung it to and fro, so\nthat the dogs came and ate it up. When he reached home he held the rope\nin his hand, but there was nothing on it.\n\n\"Good evening, mother,\" said he.\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing; she gave to me.\"\n\n\"And what did Grethel give you?\"\n\n\"A piece of bacon,\" said Hans.\n\n\"And where have you put it?\"\n\n\"I tied it with a rope, swung it about, and the dogs came and ate it\nup.\"\n\n\"There you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have carried the bacon on\nyour head.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing,\" thought Hans.\n\n\"Whither away, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I'll take care; good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?\"\n\n\"I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel gave Hans a calf. \"Good-bye,\" said Hans. \"Good-bye,\" said\nGrethel.\n\nHans took the calf, set it on his head, and the calf scratched his face.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"What did you take to her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing; she gave to me.\"\n\n\"And what did Grethel give you?\"\n\n\"A calf,\" said Hans.\n\n\"And what did you do with it?\"\n\n\"I set it on my head and it kicked my face.\"\n\n\"Then you acted stupidly, Hans; you should have led the calf home and\nput it in the stall.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing,\" thought Hans.\n\n\"Whither away, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Behave well, Hans.\"\n\n\"I'll take care; good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans came to Grethel. \"Good day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good day, Hans. What treasure do you bring?\"\n\n\"I bring nothing. Have you anything to give?\"\n\nGrethel said, \"I will go with you, Hans.\"\n\nHans tied a rope round Grethel, led her home, put her in the stall and\nmade the rope fast; then he went to his mother.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"What did you take her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you?\"\n\n\"She gave nothing; she came with me.\"\n\n\"And where have you left her, then?\"\n\n\"I tied her with a rope, put her in the stall, and threw her some\ngrass.\"\n\n\"Then you have acted stupidly, Hans; you should have looked at her with\nfriendly eyes.\"\n\n\"To behave better, do nothing,\" thought Hans; and then he went into the\nstall, and made sheep's eyes at Grethel.\n\nAnd after that Grethel became Hans's wife.\n\n\nThe Brothers Grimm, Jakob and Wilhelm, were very learned German scholars\nwho lived during the first half of the nineteenth century. They were\nboth professors at the University of Gottingen, and published many\nimportant works, among them a famous dictionary. In their own country it\nis, of course, these learned works which have given them much of their\nfame, but in other countries they are chiefly known for their Fairy\nTales.\n\nMost of these they did not themselves write; they simply collected and\nrewrote. They would hear of some old woman who was famous for telling\nstories remembered from childhood, and they would present themselves at\nher cottage to bribe or wheedle her into telling them her tales. Perhaps\nthe promise that her words should appear in print would be enough to\ninduce her to talk; perhaps hours would be wasted in trying to make her\ngrow talkative, without success. At any rate, the Grimm brothers finally\ncollected enough of these stories to make a big, fat book.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POPPYLAND EXPRESS\n\nSt. Louis Star Sayings\n\n\nThe first train leaves at 6 p. m.\n  For the land where the poppy blows.\nThe mother is the engineer,\n  And the passenger laughs and crows.\n\nThe palace car is the mother's arms;\n  The whistle a low, sweet strain.\nThe passenger winks and nods and blinks\n  And goes to sleep on the train.\n\nAt 8 p. m. the next train starts\n  For the poppyland afar.\nThe summons clear falls on the ear,\n  \"All aboard for the sleeping car!\"\n\nBut \"What is the fare to poppyland?\n  I hope it is not too dear.\"\nThe fare is this--a hug and a kiss,\n  And it's paid to the engineer.\n\nSo I ask of Him who children took\n  On His knee in kindness great:\n\"Take charge, I pray, of the trains each day\n  That leave at six and eight.\n\n\"Keep watch of the passengers,\" thus I pray,\n  \"For to me they are very dear;\nAnd special ward, O gracious Lord,\n  O'er the gentle engineer.\"\n\n\n\n\nBLUEBEARD\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a great lord who had many beautiful homes\nand who was fairly rolling in wealth. He had town houses and castles in\nthe country, all filled with rich furniture and costly vessels of gold\nand silver. In spite of all his riches, however, nobody liked the man,\nbecause of his ugly and frightful appearance. Perhaps people could have\nendured his face if it had not been for a great blue beard that\nfrightened the women and children until they fled at his very approach.\n\nNow, it so happened that there was living near one of his castles a fine\nlady of good breeding who had two beautiful daughters. Bluebeard, for\nsuch was the name by which he was known through all the country, saw the\ntwo daughters and determined to have one of them for his wife. So he\nproposed to the mother for one, but left it to her to decide which of\nthe daughters she would give him.\n\nNeither of the daughters was willing to marry him, for neither could\nmake up her mind to live all her life with such a hideous blue beard,\nhowever rich the owner might be. Moreover, they had heard, and the\nreport was true, that the man had been married several times before, and\nno one knew what had become of his wives.\n\nIn order to become better acquainted with the women, Bluebeard invited\nthem and their mother to visit him at one of his castles in the country.\nThey accepted the invitation, and for nine delightful days they hunted\nand fished over his vast estates, and for nine wonderful evenings they\nfeasted and danced in his magnificent rooms.\n\nEverything went so much to their liking, and Bluebeard himself was so\ngracious, that the younger girl began to think that after all his beard\nwas not so very blue; and so, soon after their return to town, the\nmother announced that the younger daughter was ready to marry him. In a\nfew days the ceremony was performed, and Bluebeard took his wife to one\nof his castles, where they spent a happy month.\n\nAt the end of that time Bluebeard told his wife that he was obliged to\nmake a long journey and would be away from home about six weeks. He\nadded that he hoped his wife would enjoy herself, and that he wished her\nto send for her friends if she wanted them, and to spend his money as\nfreely as she liked in their entertainment.\n\n\"Here,\" he said, \"are the keys of my two great storerooms, where you\nwill find everything you need for the house; here are the keys of the\nsideboards, where you will find all the gold and silver plate for the\ntable; here are the keys of my money chests, where you will find gold\nand silver in abundance [Illustration: a key] and many caskets\ncontaining beautiful jewels which you have not yet seen; and here is a\npass key which will open all the rooms in the castle excepting one.\n\n\"But here is a little key which fits the lock in the door of the little\nroom at the end of the long gallery on the first floor. This little room\nyou must not enter. Open everything else, go everywhere you like, treat\neverything as though it was your own; but I strictly forbid you to enter\nthe little room. If you even so much as put the key in the lock you may\nexpect to suffer direfully from my anger.\"\n\nThe young wife promised faithfully to observe her husband's wishes to\nthe letter, and he, pleased with the readiness with which she consented\nto obey him, kissed her fondly, sprang into his carriage and departed on\nhis journey.\n\n[Illustration: SHE SLIPPED SILENTLY AWAY]\n\nNo sooner had Bluebeard left than the friends of his wife began to\narrive. Many of them did not wait for an invitation, but came as soon as\nthey heard that her husband had gone with his terrible blue beard. Then\nwas there great merrymaking all over the house, and it was overrun from\ntop to bottom with the excited guests, for all were consumed with the\ndesire to see the treasures the castle contained. These were truly\nwonderful. Rich tapestries hanging on the walls, great mirrors that\nreflected the whole image of a person from head to foot, wonderful\npictures in frames of pure gold, gold and silver vessels of graceful\nshape and elegant design, cabinets filled with curiosities, lights\ngleaming with crystals, caskets filled with sparkling diamonds and other\nprecious stones without number, all served to charm and delight the\nguests so that they had little time to think about their hostess.\n\nThe wife, however, soon wearied of the splendor of her home, for she\nkept continually thinking about the little room at the end of the long\ngallery on the first floor. The more she thought about it the more\ncurious she became, and finally, forgetting her good manners, she left\nher guests, slipped silently away from them, and in her excitement\nnearly fell the whole length of the secret stairway that led to the long\ngallery. Her courage did not fail her till she reached the door of the\nlittle room. Then she remembered how false she was to her trust, and\nhesitated. Her conscience, however, was soon silenced by her curiosity,\nand with a beating heart and trembling hand she pushed the little key\ninto the lock, and the door flew open.\n\nThe shutters of the window in the little room were closed, and at first\nshe could see nothing; but as her eyes became accustomed to the dim\nlight she saw that clotted blood covered the floor, and that hanging\nfrom the walls by their long hair were the bloody heads of Bluebeard's\nother wives, while on the floor lay their dead bodies.\n\nWhen the young wife realized at what she was looking, the key fell from\nher shaking hand, her heart stopped beating, and she almost fell to the\nfloor in horror and amazement. Recovering herself after a while, she\nstooped and picked up the key, locked the door and hurried back to her\nchamber. In vain she tried to compose herself and meet her guests again.\nShe was too frightened to control herself, and when she looked at the\nlittle key of that awful little room at the end of the long gallery on\nthe first floor, she saw that it was stained with blood. She wiped the\nkey and wiped it, but the blood would not come off. She washed it, and\nscrubbed it with sand and freestone and brick dust, but the blood would\nnot come off; or, if she did succeed in cleaning one side and turned the\nkey over, there was blood on the other side, for it was a magic key\nwhich a fairy friend of Bluebeard's had given him.\n\nThat night the wife was terrified to hear Bluebeard returning, though\nshe tried to welcome him with every show of delight and affection. He\nexplained his sudden change of plans by saying that he had met a friend\non the road who told him that it was unnecessary for him to make the\nlong journey, as the business he was intending to transact had been all\ndone.\n\nIt was a very unhappy night she passed, but Bluebeard said nothing to\ndisturb her until morning, and then he presently asked her for his keys.\nShe gave them to him, but her hand trembled like an old woman's.\nBluebeard took the keys and looked them over carelessly.\n\n\"I see the key of the little room at the end of the long gallery on the\nfirst floor is not with the others. Where is it?\"\n\n\"It must have fallen off in the drawer where I kept the keys,\" she said.\n\n\"Please get it for me at once,\" said Bluebeard, \"as I wish to go to the\nroom.\"\n\nThe wife, as white as a sheet, and almost too faint to walk, went back\nto her chamber and returned, saying she could not find the key.\n\n\"But I must have it,\" said Bluebeard; \"go again and look more carefully\nfor it. Certainly you cannot have lost it.\"\n\nSo back to the chamber went the terrified woman, and, seeing no hope of\nescape, she carried the key down to her waiting husband.\n\nBluebeard took the key, and looking at it closely, said to his wife,\n\"Why is this blood spot on the key?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said the wife, faintly.\n\n\"You do not know!\" said Bluebeard. \"Well, I know. You wanted to go to\nthe little room. Very well; I shall see that you get there and take your\nplace with the other ladies.\"\n\nIn despair the young woman flung herself at his feet and begged for\nmercy, repenting bitterly of her curiosity. Bluebeard turned a deaf ear\nto all her entreaties and was not moved in the least by her piteous\nbeauty.\n\n\"Hear me, madam. You must die at, once,\" he said.\n\n\"But give me a little time to make my peace with God,\" she said. \"I must\nhave time to say my prayers.\"\n\n\"I will give you a quarter of an hour,\" answered Bluebeard, \"but not a\nminute more.\"\n\nHe turned away, and she sent for her sister, who came quickly at her\nsummons.\n\n\"Sister Ann,\" she said excitedly, \"go up to the top of the tower and see\nif my brothers are coming. They promised to come and see me to-day. If\nthey are on the road make signs to them to hurry as fast as they can. I\nam in awful despair.\"\n\n[Illustration: SISTER ANN WATCHING FROM THE TOWER]\n\nWithout waiting for an explanation the sister went to the top of the\ntower and began her watch.\n\nShe was scarcely seated when her sister called up, \"Sister Annie, do you\nsee any one coming?\"\n\nAnnie answered, \"I see nothing but the sun on the golden dust and the\ngrass which grows green.\"\n\nIn the meantime, Bluebeard, who had armed himself with a sharp, curved\nscimitar, stood at the foot of the stairs waiting for his wife to come\ndown.\n\n\"Annie, sister Annie, do you see any one coming down the road?\" cried\nthe wife again.\n\n\"No, I see nothing but the golden dust.\"\n\nThen Bluebeard called out, \"Come down quickly now, or I will come up to\nyou.\"\n\n\"One minute more,\" replied his wife; and then she called softly, \"Annie,\nsister Annie, do you see any one coming?\"\n\n\"I think I see a cloud of dust a little to the left.\"\n\n\"Do you think it is my brothers?\" said the wife.\n\n\"Alas, no, dear sister, it is only a shepherd boy with his sheep.\"\n\n\"Will you come down now, madam, or shall I fetch you?\" Bluebeard bawled\nout.\n\n\"I am coming,--indeed I will come in just a minute.\"\n\nThen she called out for the last time, \"Annie, sister Annie, do you see\nany one coming?\"\n\n\"I see,\" replied her sister, \"two horsemen coming, but they are still a\ngreat way off.\"\n\n\"Thank God,\" cried the wife, \"it is my brothers. Urge them to make\nhaste.\" Annie replied, \"I am beckoning to them. They have seen my\nsignals. They are galloping towards us.\"\n\nNow Bluebeard called out so loudly for his wife to come down that his\nvoice shook the whole house. His lady, not daring to keep him waiting\nany longer, hurried down the stairs, her hair streaming about her\nshoulders and her face bathed in tears. She threw herself on the floor\nat his feet and begged for mercy.\n\n\"There is no use in your pleading,\" said Bluebeard; \"you must certainly\ndie.\"\n\nThen, seizing her by the hair with his left hand, he raised his\nscimitar, preparing to strike off her head. The poor woman turned her\neyes upon him and begged for a single moment to collect her thoughts.\n\"No,\" he said; \"not a moment more. Commend yourself to God.\"\n\nHe raised his arm to strike. Just at that moment there was a loud\nknocking at the gate, and Bluebeard stopped short in his bloody work.\nTwo officers in uniform sprang into the castle and ran upon Bluebeard\nwith drawn swords. The cruel man, seeing they were his wife's brothers,\ntried to escape, but they followed and overtook him before he had gone\ntwenty steps. Though he begged for mercy they listened not to a single\nword, but thrust him through and through with their swords.\n\nThe poor wife, who was almost as dead as her lord, could hardly rise to\ngreet her brothers, but when she learned of Bluebeard's death she\nquickly recovered and embraced them heartily.\n\nBluebeard, it was found, had no heirs, and so all his riches came into\nthe possession of his wife. She was filled with thankfulness at her\nrescue, and in repentance for her curiosity she gave her sister a\ngenerous portion of her money, and established her brothers in high\npositions in the army.\n\nAs for herself, she afterwards married a worthy gentleman and lived\nhappily to a hale old age. The beautiful town and country houses were\nconstantly filled with guests, who, after they had convinced themselves\nthat the cruel master was actually dead, made the rooms ring with their\njoyous laughter and talking.\n\n\n\n\nLULLABY\n\n\nCome hither, little restless one,\n'Tis time to shut your eyes;\nThe sun behind the hills has gone,\nThe stars are in the skies.\n\nSee, one by one they show their light--\nHow clear and bright they look!\nJust like the fireflies in the night,\nThat shine beside the brook.\n\nYou do not hear the robins sing--\nThey're snug within their nest;\nAnd sheltered by their mother's wing,\nThe little chickens rest.\n\nThe dog, he will not frolic now,\nBut to his kennel creeps;\nThe turkeys climb upon the bough,\nAnd e'en the kitten sleeps.\n\nThe very violets in their bed\nFold up their eyelids blue,\nAnd you, my flower, must droop your head\nAnd close your eyelids, too.\n\nThen join your little hands and pray\nTo God, who made the light,\nTo keep you holy all the day\nAnd guard you through the night.\n\n\n\n\nRUMPELSTILTZKIN\n\nBy Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a poor miller who had a beautiful daughter.\nIt happened one day that he had an audience with the King, and in order\nto appear important he told the King that he had a daughter who could\nspin straw into gold.\n\n\"Now that's a talent worth having,\" said the King to the miller; \"if\nyour daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to my palace tomorrow,\nand I'll test her.\"\n\nWhen the girl was brought to him, he led her into a room full of straw,\ngave her a spinning-wheel and spindle, and said, \"Now set to work and\nspin all night, and if by early dawn you haven't spun the straw into\ngold you shall die.\" Then he closed the door behind him and left her\nalone inside.\n\nSo the poor miller's daughter sat down. She hadn't the least idea of how\nto spin straw into gold, and at last she began to cry. Suddenly the door\nopened, and in stepped a tiny little man who said: \"Good evening, Miss\nMiller-maid; why are you crying so bitterly?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" answered the girl, \"I have to spin straw into gold, and haven't\nthe slightest notion how it's done.\" \"What will you give me if I spin it\nfor you?\" asked the manikin.\n\n\"My necklace,\" replied the girl.\n\nThe little man took the necklace, sat down at the wheel, and whir, whir,\nwhir, round it went until morning, when all the straw was spun away, and\nall the bobbins were full of gold.\n\n[Illustration: Rumpelstiltzken spinning.]\n\nAs soon as the sun rose, the King came, and when he saw the gold he was\nastonished and delighted, but he wanted more of the precious metal. He\nhad the miller's daughter put into another room, much bigger than the\nfirst and full of straw, and bade her, if she valued her life, spin it\nall into gold before morning.\n\nWhen the girl began to cry the tiny little man appeared again and said:\n\"What'll you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?\"\n\n\"The ring from my finger,\" answered the girl. The manikin took the ring,\nand when morning broke he had spun all the straw into glittering gold.\n\nThe King was pleased beyond measure at the sight, but he was still not\nsatisfied, and he had the miller's daughter brought into a yet bigger\nroom full of straw, and said:\n\n\"You must spin all this away in the night; but if you succeed this time\nyou shall become my wife.\"\n\nWhen the girl was alone, the little man appeared for the third time, and\nsaid: \"What'll you give me if I spin the straw for you this third time?\"\n\n\"I've nothing more to give,\" answered the girl.\n\n\"Then promise me when you are Queen to give me your first child.\"\n\nSeeing no other way out of it, she promised the manikin, and he set to\nwork.\n\nWhen the King came in the morning, and found the gold, he straightway\nmade her his wife. When a beautiful son was born to her, she did not\nthink of the little man, till all of a sudden one day he stepped into\nher room and said: \"Now give me what you promised.\"\n\nThe Queen offered the little man all the riches in her kingdom if he\nwould only leave her the child.\n\nBut the manikin said, \"No, a living creature is dearer to me than all\nthe treasures in the world.\"\n\nThen the Queen began to cry and sob so bitterly that the little man was\nsorry for her, and said, \"I'll give you three days, and if in that time\nyou guess my name, you may keep your child.\"\n\nThe Queen pondered the whole night over all the names she had ever\nheard, and sent messengers to scour the land, and to pick up far and\nnear any names they should come across. When the little man arrived she\nbegan with Kasper, Melchior, Belshazzer, Sheepshanks, Cruickshanks,\nSpindleshanks, and so on through the long list. At every name the little\nman shook his head.\n\nAt last a messenger reported, \"As I came upon a high hill round the\ncorner of the wood, where the foxes and hares bid each other good-night,\nI saw a little house, and in front of the house burned a fire, and round\nthe fire sprang the most grotesque little man, hopping on one leg and\ncrying,\n\n     'Tomorrow I brew, today I bake,\n      And then the child away I'll take;\n      For little deems my royal dame\n      That Rumpelstiltzken is my name!'\"\n\nWhen the little man stepped in afterward and asked his name she said,\n\"Is your name Conrad?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Is your name, perhaps, Rumpelstiltzken?\"\n\n\"Some demon has told you that, some demon has told you that,\" screamed\nthe little man, as he vanished into the air.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MIRROR OF MATSUYANA\n\n\nThe following pretty little story comes from Japan, where it may be\nfound in a collection of tales for children. A long time ago a young\ncouple lived in the country with their only child, a beautiful little\ngirl whom they loved tenderly. The names of the parents cannot be told\nnow, for they have long been forgotten, but we know that the place where\nthey lived was Matsuyana, in the province of Echigo.\n\n[Illustration: AWAITING THE RETURN OF THE FATHER]\n\nNow it happened when the child was still very little that her father was\nobliged to go to the capital of the kingdom. As it was so long a\njourney, neither his wife nor his child could go with him and he\ndeparted alone, promising to bring them many pretty gifts on his return.\n\nThe mother had never been away from the neighborhood and was not able to\nget rid of some fear when she thought of the long journey her husband\nmust take. At the same time, however, she could not but feel pride and\nsatisfaction that it was her husband who was the first man in all that\nregion to go to the rich city where the king and the nobles lived, and\nwhere there were so many beautiful and marvelous things to be seen.\n\nAt last, when the good wife knew that her husband would return, she\ndressed her child gaily in the best clothes she had and herself in the\nblue dress that she knew he liked very much.\n\nIt is not possible to describe the joy of the good woman when she saw\nher husband return safe and sound. The little one clapped her hands and\nlaughed with delight when she saw the toys her father had brought, and\nhe never tired of telling of the wonderful things he had seen on his\njourney and at the capital.\n\n\"To you,\" he said to his wife, \"I have brought a thing of wonderful\npower, that is called a mirror. Look and tell me what you see inside.\"\nHe handed her a little flat box of white wood, and when she opened it\nshe saw a metal disk. One side was white as frosted silver and\nornamented with birds and flowers raised from the surface; the other\nside was shining and polished like a window-pane. Into this the young\nwife gazed with pleasure and astonishment, for from the depths she saw\nlooking out at her a smiling face with parted lips and animated eyes.\n\"What do you see?\" repeated the husband, charmed by her amazement and\nproud to prove that he had remembered her in his absence.\n\n\"I see a pretty young woman, who looks at me and moves her lips as if\ntalking, and who wears--what a wonderful thing! a blue dress exactly\nlike mine.\"\n\n\"Silly one! What you see is your own sweet face,\" replied the man,\ndelighted to know that his wife did not recognize herself. \"This circle\nof metal is called a looking-glass. In the city, every woman has one,\nalthough here in the country no one has seen one until to-day.\"\n\nEnchanted with her gift, the woman passed several days in wonderment,\nbecause, as I have said, this was the first time she had seen a mirror,\nand consequently the first time she had seen the image of her own pretty\nface. This wonderful jewel she thought too precious to be used every\nday, and the little box she guarded carefully, concealing it among her\nmost precious treasures.\n\nYears passed, the good man and his wife living happily through them all.\nThe delight of his life was the child, who was growing into the living\nimage of her dear mother, and who was so good and affectionate that\neverybody loved her.\n\nThe mother, remembering her own passing vanity over her beauty, kept the\nmirror hidden, to protect her daughter from any chance of vanity. As for\nthe father, no one had spoken of the glass, and he had forgotten all\nabout it. Thus the child grew up frank and guileless as her mother\nwished, knowing nothing of her own beauty or what the mirror might\nreflect.\n\nBut there came a day of terrible misfortune to this family, till then so\nhappy. The devoted and loving mother fell sick, and although her\ndaughter watched her with affectionate and tender devotion, the dear\nwoman grew worse and worse each day.\n\nWhen she knew that she must soon pass away, she was very sad, grieving\nfor husband and daughter that she must leave behind on earth; and\nespecially was she anxious for the future of her loving daughter.\nCalling the girl to the bedside, she said:\n\n[Illustration: HER GREATEST PLEASURE WAS TO LOOK INTO THE MIRROR]\n\n\"My beloved child, you see that I am so very sick that soon I must die\nand leave you and your father alone. Promise me that when I am gone,\nevery morning when you get up and every night when you go to bed, you\nwill look into the mirror which your father gave me long ago. In it, you\nwill see me smiling back at you, and you will know that I am ever near\nto protect you.\"\n\nHaving spoken these words, she pointed to the place where the mirror was\nhidden, and the girl, with tears on her cheeks, promised to do as her\nmother wished. Tranquil and resigned, the mother then passed quickly\naway.\n\nThe dutiful daughter, never forgetting her mother's wishes, each morning\nand evening took the glass from the place where it was hidden and gazed\nat it intently for a long time. There she saw the face of her dead\nmother brilliant and smiling, not pallid and ill as it was in her last\ndays, but young and beautiful. To this vision each night she confided\nthe troubles and little faults of the day, looking to it for help and\nencouragement in doing her duty. In this manner the girl grew up as if\nwatched over and helped by a living presence, trying always to do\nnothing that could grieve or annoy her sainted mother. Her greatest\npleasure was to look into the mirror and feel that she could truthfully\nsay: \"Mother, to-day I have been as you wished that I should be.\"\n\nAfter a time the father observed that his daughter looked lovingly into\nthe mirror every morning and every evening, and appeared to converse\nwith it. Wondering, he asked her the cause of her strange behavior. The\ngirl replied:\n\n\"Father, I look every day into the glass to see my dear mother and to\nspeak with her.\"\n\nShe then related to him the last wishes of her dying mother, and assured\nhim that she had never failed to comply with them.\n\nWondering at such simplicity and loving obedience, the father shed tears\nof pity and affection. Nor did he ever find the heart to explain to the\nloving daughter that the image she saw in the mirror was but the\nreflection of her own beautiful face. Thus, by the pure white bond of\nher filial love, each day the charming girl grew more and more like her\ndead mother.\n\n\n\n\nA CONTRAST\n\n[Illustration: YEARNING LOVE]\n\n\nLight blue eyes:\nFlaxen hair;\nRosy cheeks--\nDimples there!\nThese are Baby's.\n\nPudgy fists;\nRuddy toes;\nKissy lips--\nMother knows!\nThese are Baby's.\n\nCooing voice;\nWinning smiles;\nPleading arms--\nWanton wiles!\nThese are Baby's.\n\nYearning love;\nGrowing fears;\nGrief and worry--\nAll the years.\nThese are Mother's.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN TOUCH\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a very rich man, and a king besides, whose\nname was Midas; and he had a little daughter whom nobody but myself ever\nheard of, and whose name I either never knew or have entirely forgotten.\nSo, because I love odd names for little girls, I choose to call her\nMarygold.\n\nThis King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything else in the world.\nHe valued his royal crown chiefly because it was composed of that\nprecious metal. If he loved anything better or half so well, it was the\none little maiden who played so merrily around her father's footstool.\nBut the more Midas loved his daughter, the more did he desire and seek\nfor wealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could\npossibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest\npile of yellow, glistening coin that had ever been heaped together since\nthe world was made. Thus he gave all his thoughts and all his time to\nthis one purpose. If he ever happened to gaze for an instant at the\ngold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real gold and\nthat they could be squeezed safely into his strong box.\n\nWhen little Marygold ran to meet him with a bunch of buttercups and\ndandelions, he used to say, \"Pooh, pooh, child! If these flowers were as\ngolden as they look, they would be worth the plucking!\"\n\nAnd yet in his earlier days, before he was so entirely possessed with\nthis insane desire for riches, King Midas had shown a great taste for\nflowers. He had planted a garden in which grew the biggest and\nbeautifulest and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw or smelled.\nThese roses were still growing in the garden, as large, as lovely, and\nas fragrant as when Midas used to pass whole hours in gazing at them and\ninhaling their perfume. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was\nonly to calculate how much the garden would be worth if each of the\ninnumerable rose-petals were a thin plate of gold. And though he once\nwas fond of music (in spite of an idle story about his ears, which were\nsaid to resemble those of an ass), the only music for poor Midas now was\nthe chink of one coin against another.\n\nAt length (as people always grow more and more foolish unless they take\ncare to grow wiser and wiser) Midas had got to be so exceedingly\nunreasonable that he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that\nwas not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass a large portion\nof every day in a dark and dreary apartment underground, at the basement\nof his palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole-\n-for it was little better than a dungeon--Midas betook himself whenever\nhe wanted to be particularly happy. Here, after carefully locking the\ndoor, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup as big as a\nwashbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck measure of gold dust, and\nbring it from the obscure corners of the room into the one bright and\nnarrow sunbeam that fell from the dungeon-like window. He valued the\nsunbeam for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine\nwithout its help. And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag,\ntoss up the bar and catch it as it came down, sift the gold dust through\nhis fingers, look at the funny image of his own face as reflected in the\nburnished circumference of the cup, and whisper to himself, \"O Midas,\nrich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!\" But it was laughable to see\nhow the image of his face kept grinning at him out of the polished\nsurface of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behavior, and\nto have a naughty inclination to make fun of him.\n\nMidas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not yet quite so\nhappy as he might be. The very tip-top of enjoyment would never be\nreached unless the whole world were to become his treasure-room and be\nfilled with yellow metal which should be all his own.\n\nNow, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you are that in the\nold, old times, when King Midas was alive, a great many things came to\npass which we should consider wonderful if they were to happen in our\nown day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many things take\nplace nowadays which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which the\npeople of old times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I\nregard our own times as the stranger of the two; but, however that may\nbe, I must go on with my story.\n\n[Illustration: THE FIGURE OF A STRANGER IN THE SUNBEAM]\n\nMidas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room one day as usual, when\nhe perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold, and, looking suddenly\nup, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger standing in the\nbright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man with a cheerful and ruddy\nface. Whether it was the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge\nover everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help\nfancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a kind\nof golden radiance in it. Certainly, although his figure intercepted the\nsunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures\nthan before. Even the remotest corners had their share of it, and were\nlighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles\nof fire.\n\nAs Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock, and that\nno mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure-room, he of\ncourse concluded that his visitor must be something more than mortal. It\nis no matter about telling you who he was. In those days, when the earth\nwas comparatively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the resort\nof beings endowed with supernatural powers, who used to interest\nthemselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children half\nplayfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before now, and\nwas not sorry to meet one of them again. The stranger's aspect, indeed,\nwas so good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have\nbeen unreasonable to suspect him of intending any mischief. It was far\nmore probable that he came to do Midas a favor. What could that favor be\nunless to multiply his heaps of treasure?\n\nThe stranger gazed about the room, and when his lustrous smile had\nglistened upon all the golden objects that were there, he turned again\nto Midas.\n\n\"You are a wealthy man, friend Midas,\" he observed. \"I doubt whether any\nother four walls on earth contain so much gold as you have contrived to\npile up in this room.\"\n\n\"I have done pretty well--pretty well,\" answered Midas in a discontented\ntone. \"But, after all, it is but a trifle when you consider that it has\ntaken me my whole life to get it together. If one could live a thousand\nyears, he might have time to grow rich.\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed the stranger. \"Then you are not satisfied?\"\n\nMidas shook his head.\n\n\"And pray what would satisfy you?\" asked the stranger. \"Merely for the\ncuriosity of the thing, I should be glad to know.\"\n\nMidas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment that this stranger,\nwith such a golden luster in his good-humored smile, had come hither\nwith both the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes.\nNow, therefore, was the fortunate moment when he had but to speak and\nobtain whatever possible or seemingly impossible thing it might come\ninto his head to ask.\n\nSo he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up one golden\nmountain upon another in his imagination, without being able to imagine\nthem big enough. At last a bright idea occurred to King Midas. It seemed\nreally as bright as the glistening metal which he loved so much.\n\nRaising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in the face.\n\n\"Well, Midas,\" observed his visitor, \"I see that you have at length hit\nupon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your wish.\"\n\n\"It is only this,\" replied Midas. \"I am weary of collecting my treasures\nwith so much trouble, and beholding the heap so diminutive after I have\ndone my best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to gold.\"\n\nThe stranger's smile grew so very broad that it seemed to fill the room\nlike an outburst of the sun gleaming into a shadowy dell where the\nyellow autumnal leaves--for so looked the lumps and particles of gold--\nlie strewn in the glow of light.\n\n\"The Golden Touch!\" exclaimed he. \"You certainly deserve credit, friend\nMidas, for striking out so brilliant a conception. But are you quite\nsure that this will satisfy you?\"\n\n\"How could it fail?\" said Midas.\n\n\"And will you never regret the possession of it?\"\n\n\"What could induce me?\" asked Midas. \"I ask nothing else to render me\nperfectly happy.\"\n\n\"Be it as you wish, then,\" replied the stranger, waving his hand in\ntoken of farewell. \"To-morrow at sunrise you will find yourself gifted\nwith the Golden Touch.\"\n\nThe figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, and Midas\ninvoluntarily closed his eyes. On opening them again he beheld only one\nyellow sunbeam in the room, and all around him the glistening of the\nprecious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding up.\n\nWhether Midas slept as usual that night the story does not say. Asleep\nor awake, however, his mind was probably in the state of a child's to\nwhom a beautiful new plaything has been promised in the morning. At any\nrate, day had hardly peeped over the hills when King Midas was broad\nawake, and stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects\nthat were within reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden Touch\nhad really come, according to the stranger's promise. So he laid his\nfinger on a chair by the bedside and on various other things, but was\ngrievously disappointed to perceive that they remained of exactly the\nsame substance as before. Indeed, he felt very much afraid that he had\nonly dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else that the latter had\nbeen making game of him. And what a miserable affair would it be if,\nafter all his hopes, Midas must content himself with what little gold he\ncould scrape together by ordinary means instead of creating it by a\ntouch.\n\nAll this while it was only the gray of the morning, with but a streak of\nbrightness along the edge of the sky, where Midas could not see it. He\nlay in a very disconsolate mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes,\nand kept growing sadder and sadder until the earliest sunbeam shone\nthrough the window and gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed to\nMidas that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular\nway on the white covering of the bed. Looking more closely, what was his\nastonishment and delight when he found that this linen fabric had been\ntransmuted to what seemed a woven texture of the purest and brightest\ngold! The Golden Touch had come to him with the first sunbeam!\n\nMidas started up in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran about the room\ngrasping at everything that happened to be in his way. He seized one of\nthe bed-posts, and it became immediately a fluted golden pillar. He\npulled aside a window-curtain in order to admit a clear spectacle of the\nwonders which he was performing, and the tassel grew heavy in his hand--\na mass of gold. He took up a book from the table. At his first touch it\nassumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume\nas one often meets with nowadays, but on running his fingers through the\nleaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin golden plates, in which all the\nwisdom of the book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his clothes,\nand was enraptured to see himself in a magnificent suit of gold cloth,\nwhich retained its flexibility and softness, although it burdened him a\nlittle with its weight. He drew out his handkerchief, which little\nMarygold had hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear\nchild's neat and pretty stitches running all along the border in gold\nthread!\n\nSomehow or other, this last transformation did not quite please King\nMidas. He would rather that his little daughter's handiwork should have\nremained just the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into his\nhand.\n\nBut it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. Midas now took\nhis spectacles from his pocket, and put them on his nose in order that\nhe might see more distinctly what he was about. In those days spectacles\nfor common people had not been invented, but were already worn by kings,\nelse how could Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, however,\nexcellent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could not possibly\nsee through them. But this was the most natural thing in the world, for\non taking them off the transparent crystals turned out to be plates of\nyellow metal, and of course were worthless as spectacles, though\nvaluable as gold. It struck Midas as rather inconvenient that, with all\nhis wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a pair of\nserviceable spectacles.\n\n\"It is no great matter, nevertheless,\" said he to himself, very\nphilosophically. \"We cannot expect any great good without its being\naccompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth the\nsacrifice of a pair of spectacles at least, if not of one's very\neyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes, and little\nMarygold will soon be old enough to read to me.\"\n\nWise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune that the palace\nseemed not sufficiently spacious to contain him. He therefore went\ndownstairs and smiled on observing that the balustrade of the staircase\nbecame a bar of burnished gold as his hand passed over it in his\ndescent.\n\nHe lifted the doorlatch (it was brass only a moment ago, but golden when\nhis fingers quitted it) and emerged into the garden. Here, as it\nhappened, he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom and\nothers in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious was\ntheir fragrance in the morning breeze. Their delicate blush was one of\nthe fairest sights in the world, so gentle, and so full of sweet\ntranquility did these roses seem to be.\n\nBut Midas knew a way to make them far more precious, according to his\nway of thinking, than roses had ever been before. So he took great pains\nin going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most\nindefatigably, until every individual flower and bud, and even the worms\nat the heart of some of them, were changed to gold. By the time this\ngood work was completed, King Midas was summoned to breakfast, and, as\nthe morning air had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back\nto the palace.\n\nWhat was usually a king's breakfast in the days of Midas I really do not\nknow and cannot stop now to investigate. To the best of my belief,\nhowever, on this particular morning the breakfast consisted of hot\ncakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh boiled\neggs, and coffee for King Midas himself, and a bowl of bread and milk\nfor his daughter Marygold. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set\nbefore a king, and, whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have\nhad a better.\n\nLittle Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her father ordered her\nto be called, and, seating himself at the table, awaited the child's\ncoming in order to begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he\nreally loved his daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning\non account of the good fortune which had befallen him. It was not a\ngreat while before he heard her coming along the passageway crying\nbitterly. This circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of\nthe cheerfulest little people whom you would see in a summer's day, and\nhardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. When Midas heard her\nsobs he determined to put little Marygold into better spirits by an\nagreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his\ndaughter's bowl (which was a china one with pretty figures all around\nit) and transmuted it to gleaming gold.\n\nMeanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately opened the door and showed\nherself with her apron at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would\nbreak.\n\n\"How now, my little lady!\" cried Midas. \"What is the matter with you\nthis morning?\"\n\nMarygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out her hand, in\nwhich was one of the roses which Midas had so recently transmuted.\n\n\"Beautiful!\" exclaimed her father. \"And what is there in this\nmagnificent golden rose to make you cry?\"\n\n\"Ah, dear father!\" answered the child, as well as her sobs would let\nher, \"it is not beautiful, but the ugliest flower that ever grew. As\nsoon as I was dressed I ran into the garden to gather some roses for\nyou, because I know you like them, and like them the better when\ngathered by your little daughter. But--oh dear! dear me!--what do you\nthink has happened? Such a misfortune! All the beautiful roses, that\nsmelled so sweetly and had so many lovely blushes, are blighted and\nspoiled! They are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no\nlonger any fragrance. What can be the matter with them?\"\n\n\"Pooh, my dear little girl! pray don't cry about it!\" said Midas, who\nwas ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought the change which so\ngreatly afflicted her. \"Sit down and eat your bread and milk. You will\nfind it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that, which will last\nhundreds of years, for an ordinary one, which would wither in a day.\"\n\n\"I don't care for such roses as this!\" cried Marygold, tossing it\ncontemptuously away. \"It has no smell, and the hard petals prick my\nnose.\"\n\nThe child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with her grief for\nthe blighted roses that she did not even notice the wonderful\ntransmutation of her china bowl. Perhaps this was all the better, for\nMarygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures\nand strange trees and houses that were painted on the circumference of\nthe bowl, and these ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue\nof the metal.\n\nMidas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee; and, as a matter of\ncourse, the coffeepot, whatever metal it may have been when he took it\nup, was gold when he set it down. He thought to himself that it was\nrather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his simple habits,\nto breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled with the\ndifficulty of keeping his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen\nwould no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so valuable as\ngolden bowls and coffeepots.\n\nAmid these thoughts he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, and\nsipping it, was astonished to perceive that the instant his lips touched\nthe liquid it became molten gold, and the next moment hardened into a\nlump.\n\n\"Ha!\" exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.\n\n\"What is the matter, father?\" asked little Marygold, gazing at him with\nthe tears still standing in her eyes.\n\n\"Nothing, child, nothing,\" said Midas. \"Eat your milk before it gets\nquite cold.\"\n\nHe took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and, by way of\nexperiment, touched its tail with his finger. To his horror, it was\nimmediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook trout into a gold\nfish, though not one of those gold fishes which people often keep in\nglass globes as ornaments for the parlor. No; but it was really a\nmetallic fish, and looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the\nnicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones were now golden wires,\nits fins and tail were thin plates of gold, and there were the marks of\nthe fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a nicely\nfried fish exactly imitated in metal. A very pretty piece of work, as\nyou may suppose; only King Midas, just at that moment, would much rather\nhave had a real trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable\nimitation of one.\n\n\"I don't quite see,\" thought he to himself, \"how I am to get any\nbreakfast.\"\n\nHe took one of the smoking hot cakes, and had scarcely broken it when,\nto his cruel mortification, though a moment before it had been of the\nwhitest wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. To say the\ntruth? if it had really been a hot Indian cake Midas would have prized\nit a good deal more than he now did, when its solidity and increased\nweight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost in\ndespair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent\na change similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, indeed,\nmight have been mistaken for one of those which the famous goose in the\nstorybook was in the habit of laying; but King Midas was the only goose\nthat had had anything to do with the matter.\n\n\"Well, this is a quandary!\" thought he, leaning back in his chair and\nlooking quite enviously at little Marygold, who was now eating her bread\nand milk with great satisfaction. \"Such a costly breakfast before me,\nand nothing that can be eaten!\"\n\nHoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might avoid what he now felt\nto be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas next snatched a hot\npotato, and attempted to cram it into his mouth and swallow it in a\nhurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his mouth\nfull, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which so burned his\ntongue that he roared aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to\ndance and stamp about the room both with pain and affright.\n\n\"Father, dear father!\" cried little Marygold, who was a very\naffectionate child, \"pray what is the matter? Have you burned your\nmouth?\"\n\n\"Ah, dear child,\" groaned Midas dolefully, \"I don't know what is to\nbecome of your poor father.\"\n\nAnd truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of such a pitiable\ncase in all your lives? Here was literally the richest breakfast that\ncould be set before a king, and its very richness made it absolutely\ngood for nothing. The poorest laborer sitting down to his crust of bread\nand cup of water was far better off than King Midas, whose delicate food\nwas really worth its weight in gold. And what was to be done? Already,\nat breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by\ndinner-time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for supper, which\nmust undoubtedly consist of the same sort of indigestible dishes as\nthose now before him! How many days, think you, would he survive a\ncontinuance of this rich fare?\n\nThese reflections so troubled wise King Midas that he began to doubt\nwhether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in the world, or\neven the most desirable. But this was only a passing thought. So\nfascinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal that he would\nstill have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so paltry a\nconsideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal's\nvictuals! It would have been the same as paying millions and millions of\nmoney (and as many millions more as would take forever to reckon up) for\nsome fried trout, an egg, a potatoes a hot cake, and a cup of coffee.\n\n\"It would be quite too dear,\" thought Midas.\n\nNevertheless, so great was his hunger and the perplexity of his\nsituation that he again groaned aloud, and very grievously, too. Our\npretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat a moment gazing at\nher father and trying with all the might of her little wits to find out\nwhat was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful impulse\nto comfort him, she started from her chair, and, running to Midas, threw\nher arms affectionately about his knees. He bent down and kissed her. He\nfelt that his little daughter's love was worth a thousand times more\nthan he had gained by the Golden Touch.\n\n\"My precious, precious Marygold!\" cried he.\n\nBut Marygold made no answer.\n\nAlas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift which the stranger\nbestowed! The moment the lips of Midas touched Marygold's forehead a\nchange had taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as it\nhad been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yellow tear-drops\ncongealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same\ntint. Her soft and tender little form grew hard and inflexible within\nher father's encircling arms. Oh, terrible misfortune! The victim of his\ninsatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a human child no\nlonger, but a golden statue!\n\nYes, there she was, with the questioning look of love, grief, and pity\nhardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most woeful sight that\never mortal saw. All the features and tokens of Marygold were there;\neven the beloved little dimple remained in her golden chin. But, the\nmore perfect was this resemblance, the greater was the father's agony at\nbeholding this golden image, which was all that was left him of a\ndaughter. It had been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt\nparticularly fond of the child, to say that she was worth her weight in\ngold. And now the phrase had become literally true. And now at last,\nwhen it was too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart\nthat loved him exceeded in value all the wealth that could be piled up\nbetwixt the earth and sky.\n\nIt would be too sad a story if I were to tell you how Midas, in the\nfullness of all his gratified desires, began to wring his hands and\nbemoan himself, and how he could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor\nyet to look away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on the image,\nhe could not possibly believe that she was changed to gold. But,\nstealing another glance, there was the precious little figure, with a\nyellow tear-drop on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender\nthat it seemed as if that very expression must needs soften the gold and\nmake it flesh again. This, however, could not be. So Midas had only to\nwring his hands and to wish that he were the poorest man in the wide\nworld if the loss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest rose-\ncolor to his dear child's face.\n\nWhile he was in this tumult of despair he suddenly beheld a stranger\nstanding near the door. Midas bent down his head without speaking, for\nhe recognized the same figure which had appeared to him the day before\nin the treasure-room and had bestowed on him this disastrous faculty of\nthe Golden Touch.\n\nThe stranger's countenance still wore a smile which seemed to shed a\nyellow luster all about the room, and gleamed on little Marygold's image\nand on the other objects that had been transmuted by the touch of Midas.\n\n\"Well, friend Midas,\" said the stranger, \"pray how do you succeed with\nthe Golden Touch?\"\n\nMidas shook his head.\n\n\"I am very miserable,\" said he.\n\n\"Very miserable, indeed!\" exclaimed the stranger. \"And how happens that?\nHave I not faithfully kept my promise with you? Have you not everything\nthat your heart desired?\"\n\n\"Gold is not everything,\" answered Midas, \"and I have lost all that my\nheart really cared for.\"\n\n\"Ah! so you have made a discovery since yesterday?\" observed the\nstranger. \"Let us see, then. Which of these two things do you think is,\nreally worth the most--the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of\nclear, cold water?\"\n\n\"Oh, blessed water!\" exclaimed Midas. \"It will never moisten my parched\nthroat again.\"\n\n\"The Golden Touch,\" continued the stranger, \"or a crust of bread?\"\n\n\"A piece of bread,\" answered Midas, \"is worth all the gold on earth.\"\n\n\"The Golden Touch,\" asked the stranger, \"or your own little Marygold,\nwarm, soft, and loving, as she was an hour ago?\"\n\n[Illustration: MARYGOLD WAS A GOLDEN STATUE!]\n\n\"Oh, my child, my dear child!\" cried poor Midas, wringing his hands. \"I\nwould not have given that one small dimple in her chin for the power of\nchanging this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!\"\n\n\"You are wiser than you were, King Midas,\" said the stranger, looking\nseriously at him. \"Your own heart, I perceive, has not been entirely\nchanged from flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be\ndesperate. But you appear to be still capable of understanding that the\ncommonest things, such as lie within everybody's grasp, are more\nvaluable than the riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle after.\nTell me now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this Golden\nTouch?\"\n\n\"It is hateful to me!\" replied Midas.\n\nA fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the floor, for it,\ntoo, had become gold. Midas shuddered.\n\n\"Go, then,\" said the stranger, \"and plunge into the river that glides\npast the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase of the same water,\nand sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change back again\nfrom gold into its former substance. If you do this in earnestness and\nsincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief which your avarice has\noccasioned.\"\n\nKing Midas bowed low, and when he lifted his head the lustrous stranger\nhad vanished.\n\nYou will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a great\nearthen pitcher (but alas me! it was no longer earthen after he touched\nit) and hastening to the riverside. As he scampered along and forced his\nway through the shrubbery, it was positively marvelous to see how the\nfoliage turned yellow behind him, as if the autumn had been there and\nnowhere else.\n\nOn reaching the river's brink he plunged headlong in, without waiting so\nmuch as to pull off his shoes.\n\n\"Poof! poof! poof!\" snorted King Midas, as his head emerged out of the\nwater. \"Well, this is really a refreshing bath, and I think it must have\nwashed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my pitcher.\"\n\nAs he dipped the pitcher into the water it gladdened his very heart to\nsee it change from gold into the same good, honest earthen vessel which\nit had been before he touched it. He was conscious also of a change\nwithin himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have gone out\nof his bosom. No doubt his heart had been gradually losing its human\nsubstance and transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now\nsoftened back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet that grew on the\nbank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed\nto find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, instead of\nundergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch had therefore\nreally been removed from him.\n\nKing Midas hastened back to the palace, and I suppose the servants knew\nnot what to make of it when they saw their royal master so carefully\nbringing home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water, which was to\nundo all the mischief that his folly had wrought, was more precious to\nMidas than an ocean of molten gold could have been. The first thing he\ndid, as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls over the\ngolden figure of little Marygold.\n\nNo sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed to see how the\nrosy color came back to the dear child's cheek, and how she began to\nsneeze and sputter, and how astonished she was to find herself dripping\nwet and her father still throwing more water over her.\n\n\"Pray do not, dear father!\" cried she. \"See how you have wet my nice\nfrock, which I put on only this morning.\"\n\nFor Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden statue, nor\ncould she remember anything that had happened since the moment when she\nran with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.\n\nHer father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child how very\nfoolish he had been, but contented himself with showing how much wiser\nhe had now grown. For this purpose he led little Marygold into the\ngarden, where he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over the rose-\nbushes, and with such good effect that above five thousand roses\nrecovered their beautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, however,\nwhich, as long as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden\nTouch.\n\nOne was that the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the other, that\nlittle Marygold's hair had now a golden tinge which he had never\nobserved in it before she had been transmuted by the effect of his kiss.\nThe change of hue was really an improvement, and made Marygold's hair\nricher than in her babyhood.\n\nWhen King Midas had grown quite an old man and used to trot Marygold's\nchildren on his knee, he was fond of telling them this marvelous story,\npretty much as I have told it to you. And then he would stroke their\nglossy ringlets and tell them that their hair likewise had a rich shade\nof gold, which they had inherited from their mother.\n\n\"And to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,\" quoth King Midas,\ndiligently trotting the children all the while, \"ever since that morning\nI have hated the very sight of all other gold save this.\"\n\n\nHawthorne was by no means the first man who ever told about King Midas,\nnor are the children who have lived since his time the first who ever\nheard this story; for hundreds and hundreds of years ago, in a country\nvery different from ours, the little Greek children heard it told in a\nlanguage that would seem very strange to us. However, Hawthorne has by\nno means told the story just as the Greek mothers or Greek nurses might\nhave told it to their children; he has added much which makes the story\nseem more real and the characters more human.\n\nFor instance, as he says, the old myth told nothing about any daughter\nof Midas's, and yet I think we are all ready to admit that we should not\nlove the story half so well without dear little Marygold.\n\nThen too, the talk about Midas's spectacles and about his trotting his\ngrandchildren on his knee is but a little pleasant fooling on the part\nof Hawthorne, for spectacles were not even thought of for centuries\nafter the time of old King Midas, and it is much more than unlikely that\nany old Greek ever trotted children on his knee.\n\nHawthorne had a perfect right to make these changes in the story; for\nthe old myths have come down to us from so long ago that they seem to\nbelong to everybody, and every one forms his own ideas of them.\n\nThus you will see that while the author of this story thought of\nMarygold as a little child who climbed up onto her father's knee, the\nartists in dealing with the subject have thought of her as almost a\nyoung woman. Which of these two ideas do you like better?\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD'S WORLD\n\nBy W. B. Rands\n\n\nGreat, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,\nWith the wonderful water round you curled,\nAnd the wonderful grass upon your breast--\nWorld, you are beautifully dressed.\n\nThe wonderful air is over me,\nAnd the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;\nIt walks on the water, and whirls the mills,\nAnd talks to itself on the tops of the hills.\n\nYou, friendly Earth! how far do you go\nWith the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow,\nWith cities and gardens, and cliffs, and isles,\nAnd people upon you for thousands of miles?\n\nAh, you are so great, and I am so small,\nI tremble to think of you, World, at all;\nAnd yet, when I said my prayers to-day,\nA whisper inside me seemed to say:\n\n\"You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot--\nYou can love and think, and the Earth cannot!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIR TREE\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\nOut in the forest stood a pretty little Fir Tree. It had a good place;\nit could have sunlight, air there was in plenty, and all around grew\nmany larger comrades--pines as well as firs. But the little Fir Tree\nwished ardently to become greater. It did not care for the warm sun and\nthe fresh air; it took no notice of the peasant children, who went about\ntalking together, when they had come out to look for strawberries and\nraspberries. The children often came with a whole basketful, or with a\nstring of berries which they had strung on a straw. Then they would sit\ndown by the little Fir Tree and say, \"How pretty and small this one is!\"\nThe Fir Tree did not like that at all.\n\nNext year he had grown bigger, and the following year he was taller\nstill.\n\n\"Oh, if I were only as tall as the others!\" sighed the little Fir. \"Then\nI would spread my branches far around and look out from my crown into\nthe wide world. The birds would then build nests in my boughs, and when\nthe wind blew I would nod grandly.\"\n\nIt took no pleasure in the sunshine, in the birds, or in the red clouds\nthat went sailing over it morning and evening.\n\n[Illustration: THE SWALLOWS AND THE STORK CAME]\n\nWhen it was winter, and the snow lay all around, white and sparkling, a\nhare would often come jumping along and spring right over the little Fir\nTree. O, that made him so angry! But two winters went by, and when the\nthird came, the little Tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged\nto run around it.\n\n\"Oh, to grow, to grow, and become old; that's the only fine thing in the\nworld,\" thought the Tree.\n\nIn the autumn the woodcutters always came and felled a few of the\nlargest trees; that was done this year, too, and the little Fir Tree,\nthat was now quite well grown, shuddered with fear, for the stately\ntrees fell to the ground with a crash, and their branches were cut off,\nso that the trees looked quite naked, long and slender, and could hardly\nhe recognized. Then they were laid upon wagons, and the horses dragged\nthem away out of the wood. Where were they going? What destiny awaited\nthem?\n\nIn the spring, when the Swallows and the Stork came, the Tree asked\nthem, \"Do you know where the big firs were taken? Did you meet them?\"\n\nThe Swallows knew nothing about it, but the Stork looked thoughtful,\nnodded his head and said: \"Yes, I think so. I met many new ships when I\nflew out of Egypt; on the ships were tall masts; I fancy these were the\ntrees. They smelt like fir. I can assure you they're stately--very\nstately.\"\n\n\"Oh, that I were big enough to go over the sea. What kind of a thing is\nthis sea, and how does it look?\"\n\n\"It would take long to explain all that,\" said the Stork, and he went\naway.\n\n\"Rejoice in thy youth,\" said the Sunbeams; \"rejoice in thy fresh growth,\nand in the young life that is within thee.\"\n\nAnd the wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears upon it; but the\nFir Tree did not understand.\n\nWhen Christmas time approached, quite young trees were felled, sometimes\ntrees which were neither so old nor so large as this Fir Tree, that\nnever rested, but always wanted to go away. These beautiful young trees\nkept all their branches; they were put upon wagons, and horses dragged\nthem away out of the wood.\n\n\"Where are they all going?\" asked the Fir Tree. \"They are not greater\nthan I--indeed, one of them was much smaller. Why do they keep all their\nbranches? Whither are they taken?\"\n\n\"We know that! We know that!\" chirped the Sparrows. \"Yonder in the town\nwe looked in at the windows. We know where the fir trees go. We have\nlooked in at the windows and have seen that they are planted in the\nmiddle of a warm room and dressed up in the greatest splendor with the\nmost beautiful things--gilt apples, honey-cakes, playthings, and many\nhundreds of candles.\"\n\n\"And then?\" asked the Fir Tree, trembling through all its branches. \"And\nthen? what happens then?\" \"Why, we have not seen anything more. But it\nwas wonderful!\"\n\n\"Perhaps I may be destined to this glorious end one day!\" cried the Fir\nTree, rejoicing. \"That is even better than traveling across the sea. How\nI long for it! If it were only Christmas! Now I am great and grown up\nlike the rest who were led away last year. Oh, if I were only on the\nwagon! If I were only in the warm room amidst all the pomp and splendor!\nAnd then? Yes, then something even better will come, something far more\ncharming, else why should they adorn me so? There must be something\ngrander, something greater still to come; but what? Oh! I'm suffering,\nI'm longing! I don't know myself what is the matter with me!\"\n\n\"Rejoice in us,\" said Air and Sunshine. \"Rejoice in thy fresh youth here\nin the woodland.\"\n\nThe Fir Tree did not rejoice at all, but it grew and grew; winter and\nsummer it stood there, green, dark green. The people who saw it said,\n\"That's a handsome tree!\" and at Christmas time it was felled before any\nof the others. The axe cut deep into its marrow, and the tree fell to\nthe ground with a sigh; it felt a pain, a sensation of faintness, and\ncould not think at all of happiness, for it was sad at parting from its\nhome, from the place where it had grown up; it knew that it should never\nagain see the dear old companions, the little bushes and the flowers all\naround, perhaps not even the birds. The Tree came to itself only when it\nwas unloaded in a yard, with other trees, and heard a man say:\n\n\"This one is famous; we want only this one!\"\n\nNow two servants came in gay liveries, and carried the Fir Tree into a\nlarge, beautiful room. All around the walls hung pictures, and by the\ngreat stove stood large Chinese vases with lions on the covers; there\nwere rocking chairs, silken sofas, great tables covered with picture\nbooks, and toys worth a hundred times a hundred dollars; at least, the\nchildren said so. And the Fir Tree was put into a great tub filled with\nsand; but no one could see that it was a tub, for it was hung round with\ngreen cloth, and stood on a large, many-colored carpet. Oh, how the Tree\ntrembled! What was to happen now? The servants, and the young ladies\nalso, decked it out. On one branch they hung little bags cut out of\ncolored paper, and every bag was filled with sweetmeats. Golden apples\nand walnuts hung down as if they grew there, and more than a hundred\nlittle candles, red, white, and blue, were fastened to the different\nboughs. Dolls that looked exactly like real people--the Tree had never\nseen such before--swung among the foliage, and high on the summit of the\nTree was fixed a tinsel star. It was splendid.\n\n\"This evening,\" said all, \"this evening it will shine.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" thought the Tree, \"that it were evening already! Oh that the\nlights may be soon lit! When will that be done? I wonder if trees will\ncome out of the forest to look at me? Will the Sparrows fly against the\npanes? Shall I grow fast here, and stand adorned in summer and winter?\"\n\nBut the Tree had a backache from mere longing, and the backache is just\nas bad for a tree as the headache for a person.\n\nAt last the candles were lighted. What a brilliance, what splendor! The\nTree trembled so in all its branches that one of the candles set fire to\na green twig, and it was scorched, but one of the young ladies hastily\nput the fire out.\n\nNow the Tree might not even tremble. Oh, that was terrible! It was so\nafraid of setting fire to some of its ornaments, and it was quite\nbewildered with all the brilliance. And now the folding doors were\nthrown open, and a number of children rushed in as if they would have\noverturned the whole Tree, while the older people followed more\ndeliberately. The little ones stood quite silent, but only for a minute;\nthen they shouted till the room rang; they danced gleefully round the\nTree; and one present after another was plucked from it.\n\n\"What are they about?\" thought the Tree. \"What's going to be done?\"\n\nAnd the candles burned down to the twigs, and as they burned down they\nwere extinguished, and then the children were given permission to\nplunder the Tree. They rushed in upon it, so that every branch cracked\nagain; if it had not been fastened by the top and by the golden star to\nthe ceiling, the Tree certainly would have fallen down.\n\nThe children danced about with their pretty toys. No one looked at the\nTree except one old man, who came up and peeped among the branches, but\nonly to see if a fig or an apple had not been forgotten.\n\n\"A story! A story!\" shouted the children, as they drew a little fat man\ntoward the Tree. He sat down just beneath it--\"for then we shall be in\nthe green wood,\" said he, \"and the Tree may have the advantage of\nlistening to my tale. But I can tell only one. Will you hear the story\nof Ivede-Avede, or of Klumpey-Dumpey, who fell downstairs, and still was\nraised up to honor and married the princess?\"\n\n\"Ivede-Avede,\" cried some; \"Klumpey-Dumpey,\" cried others, and there was\na great crying and shouting. Only the Fir Tree was silent, and thought,\n\"Shall I not be in it? Shall I have nothing to do in it?\" But he had\nbeen in the evening's amusement and had done what was required of him.\n\nAnd the fat man told about Klumpey-Dumpey, who fell downstairs, and yet\nwas raised to honor and married the princess. And the children clapped\ntheir hands, and cried, \"Tell another, tell another!\" for they wanted to\nhear about Ivede-Avede; but they got only the story of Klumpey-Dumpey.\n\nThe Fir Tree stood quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds in\nthe wood told such a story as that. Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, and\nyet came to honor and married the princess!\n\n\"Yes, so it happens in the world!\" thought the Fir Tree, and believed it\nmust be true, because that was such a nice man who told it. \"Well, who\ncan know? Perhaps I shall fall downstairs, too, and marry a princess!\"\nAnd it looked forward with pleasure to being adorned again, the next\nevening, with candles and toys, gold and fruit. \"To-morrow I shall not\ntremble,\" it thought. \"I shall rejoice in all my splendor. To-morrow I\nshall hear the story of Klumpey-Dumpey again, and perhaps that of Ivede-\nAvede, too.\"\n\nAnd the Tree stood all night quiet and thoughtful.\n\nIn the morning the servants and the chambermaid came in.\n\n\"Now my splendor will begin afresh,\" thought the Tree.\n\nBut they dragged him out of the room and up-stairs to the garret, and\nthere they put him in a dark corner where no daylight shone.\n\n\"What's the meaning of this?\" thought the Tree. \"What am I to do here?\nWhat is to happen?\"\n\nAnd he leaned against the wall, and thought, and thought. And he had\ntime enough, for days and nights went by, and nobody came up; and when\nat length some one came, it was only to put some great boxes in a\ncorner. Now the Tree stood quite hidden away, and the supposition is\nthat it was quite forgotten.\n\n[Illustration: THE FAT MAN TOLD ABOUT KLUMPEY-DUMPEY]\n\n\"Now it's winter outside,\" thought the Tree. \"The earth is hard and\ncovered with snow, and people cannot plant me; therefore I suppose I'm\nto be sheltered here until spring comes. How considerate that is! How\ngood people are! If it were only not so dark here, and so terribly\nsolitary! Not even a little hare! It was pretty out there in the wood,\nwhen the snow lay thick and the hare sprang past; yes, even when he\njumped over me; but then I did not like it. It is terribly lonely up\nhere!\"\n\n\"Piep! Piep!\" said a little Mouse, and crept forward, and then came\nanother little one. They smelt at the Fir Tree, and then slipped among\nthe branches.\n\n\"It's horribly cold,\" said the two little Mice, \"or else it would be\ncomfortable here. Don't you think so, you old Fir Tree?\"\n\n\"I'm not old at all,\" said the Fir Tree. \"There are many much older than\nI.\"\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" asked the Mice. \"And what do you know?\" They\nwere dreadfully inquisitive.\n\n\"Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth. Have you been\nthere? Have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelves,\nand hams hang from the ceiling; where one dances on tallow candles, and\ngoes in thin and comes out fat?\"\n\n\"I don't know that,\" replied the Tree; \"but I know the wood, where the\nsun shines and the birds sing.\" And then it told all about its youth.\n\nAnd the little Mice had never heard anything of the kind; and they\nlistened, and said:\n\n\"What a number of things you have seen! How happy you must have been!\"\n\n\"I?\" replied the Fir Tree; and it thought about what it had told. \"Yes,\nthose were really quite happy times.\" But then he told of the Christmas\nEve, when he had been hung with sweatmeats and candles.\n\n\"Oh!\" said the little Mice, \"how happy you have been, you old Fir Tree!\"\n\n\"I'm not old at all,\" said the Tree. \"I came out of the wood only this\nwinter. I'm only rather backward in my growth.\"\n\n\"What splendid stories you can tell!\" said the little Mice.\n\nAnd next night they came with four other little Mice, to hear what the\nTree had to relate; and the more it said, the more clearly did it\nremember everything, and thought, \"Those were quite merry days. But they\nmay come again. Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, and yet he married the\nprincess. Perhaps I may marry a princess, too!\" And then the Fir Tree\nthought of a pretty little Birch Tree that grew out in the forest; for\nthe Fir Tree, that Birch was a real princess.\n\n\"Who's Klumpey-Dumpey?\" asked the little Mice.\n\nAnd then the Fir Tree told the whole story. It could remember every\nsingle word; and the little Mice were ready to leap to the very top of\nthe tree with pleasure. Next night a great many more Mice came, and on\nSunday two Rats even appeared; but these thought the story was not\npretty, and the little Mice were sorry for that, for now they also did\nnot like it so much as before.\n\n\"Do you know only one story?\" asked the Rats.\n\n\"Only that one,\" replied the Tree. \"I heard that on the happiest evening\nof my life; I did not think then how happy I was.\"\n\n\"That's a very miserable story. Don't you know any about bacon and\ntallow candles--a storeroom story?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the Tree.\n\n\"Then we'd rather not hear you,\" said the Rats. And they went back to\ntheir own people. The little Mice at last also stayed away; and then the\nTree sighed and said, \"It was very nice when they sat around me, the\nmerry little Mice, and listened when I spoke to them. Now that's past,\ntoo. But I shall remember to be pleased when they take me out.\"\n\nBut when did that happen? Why, it was one morning that people came and\nrummaged in the garret; the boxes were put away, and the Tree was\nbrought out; they certainly threw him rather roughly on the floor, but a\nservant dragged him away at once to the stairs, where the daylight\nshone.\n\n\"Now life is beginning again,\" thought the Tree.\n\nIt felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams, and then it was out in the\ncourtyard. Everything passed so quickly that the Tree quite forgot to\nlook at itself, there was so much to look at all around. The courtyard\nwas close to a garden, and there everything was blooming; the roses hung\nfresh and fragrant over the little paling, the linden trees were in\nblossom, and the swallows cried, \"Quinze-wit! quinze-wit! my husband's\ncome!\" But it was not the Fir Tree that they meant.\n\n\"Now I shall live!\" cried the Tree, rejoicingly, and spread its branches\nfar out; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in the\ncorner among nettles and weeds. The tinsel star was still upon it, and\nshone in the bright sunshine.\n\nIn the courtyard a couple of the merry children were playing who had\ndanced round the Tree at Christmas time, and had rejoiced over it. One\nof the youngest ran up and tore off the golden star.\n\n\"Look what is sticking to the ugly old Fir Tree!\" said the child, and he\ntrod on the branches till they cracked under his boots.\n\nAnd the Tree looked at all the blooming flowers and the splendor of the\ngarden, then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark\ncorner of the garret; it thought of its fresh youth in the wood, of the\nmerry Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice which had listened so\npleasantly to the story of Klumpey-Dumpey.\n\n\"Past! past!\" said the old Tree. \"Had I but rejoiced when I could have\ndone so! Past! past!\"\n\nAnd the servant came and chopped the Tree into little pieces; a whole\nbundle lay there; it blazed brightly under the great brewing copper, and\nit sighed deeply, and each sigh was like a little shot; and the\nchildren, who were at play there, ran up, seated themselves by the fire,\nlooked into it, and cried \"Puff! puff!\" But at each explosion, which was\na deep sigh, the Tree thought of a summer day in the woods, or of a\nwinter night there, when the stars beamed; he thought of Christmas Eve\nand of Klumpey-Dumpey, the only story he had ever heard or knew how to\ntell; and thus the Tree was burned.\n\nThe boys played in the garden, and the youngest had on his breast a\ngolden star, which the Tree had worn on its happiest evening. Now that\nwas past, and the Tree's life was past, and the story is past, too:\npast! past!--and that's the way with all stories.\n\n\n\n\nHANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN\n\n\nWhen a man writes as beautiful and as interesting stories as Hans\nChristian Andersen has written for children, we like to know something\nabout him; and we find that nothing that he ever wrote was much more\ninteresting than his own life. Certainly no one who knew him while he\nwas a child could have thought that he would ever have much chance of\nbecoming a famous man.\n\nHe was born on April 2nd, 1805, in the city of Odense, in Denmark. The\nroom in which he was born was kitchen, parlor, bedroom and workshop for\nthe whole family, for the family of Andersen had little to do with, and\nlittle knowledge of how to make the best of what they had. The father\nwas a cobbler, but a cobbler who was much more interested in other\nthings than he was in his trade, into which he had been forced quite\ncontrary to his own wishes. The mother was a careless, easy-going\nperson, who was kind to her child, but had not the slightest idea of\ntraining him, or of restraining any of his odd tastes. These tastes were\ndetermined more or less by his father, who was a great reader,\nparticularly of plays; and we see the results of this early introduction\nto the drama in Hans Christian Andersen throughout his life.\n\nLittle Hans Christian was a most extraordinary child. He was ugly, as he\nremained all his life; for his body and neck were too long and too thin,\nhis feet and his hands were too large and too bony, his nose was large\nand hooked, and his eyes were small and set like a Chinaman's. However,\nit was not his looks, but his oddity, which cut him off from other\nchildren. He would sit all day and make doll clothes, or cut dolls and\nanimals out of paper; and these were not things which would be likely to\nmake other boys like him and admire him. He had little schooling, and\neven when he was a grown man he knew none too much of the grammar of his\nown language.\n\nAfter his father's death, when he himself was about eleven, little Hans\nChristian was more solitary than before, and shut himself up still more\nwith his doll's clothes, his toy theaters, and his books, for he was,\nlike his father, very fond of reading. Especially did he like those\nbooks which had anything about ghosts or witches or fairies in them.\nWhile he was but a child, he wrote a play of his own, in which most of\nthe characters were kings and queens and princesses; and because he felt\nthat it could not be possible that such lofty personages would talk the\nsame language as ordinary people, he picked out from a dictionary, which\nhe managed somehow to get hold of, French words, German words, English\nwords, and high-sounding Danish words, and strung them all together to\nmake up the conversation of his characters.\n\nIt was no more than natural that such a strange, unattractive-looking\nchild should be made fun of by the prosaic, commonplace people of his\nneighborhood, and this was untold pain to the sensitive boy. There were,\nhowever, in the town, people of a higher class, who perceived in the boy\nsomething beyond the ordinary, and who interested themselves in his\nbehalf. They had him sent to school, but he preferred to dream away his\ntime rather than to study, and his short period of schooling really\ntaught him nothing.\n\nHis mother, careless as she was, began to see that matters must change--\nthat the boy could not go on all his life in this aimless fashion; but\nsince he steadily declined to be a tailor or a cobbler, or indeed to\ntake up any trade, it seemed no easy question to settle. However, in\n1818, there came to Odense a troupe of actors who gave plays and operas.\nYoung Andersen, who by making acquaintance with the billposter was\nallowed to witness the performances from behind the scenes, decided at\nonce that he was cut out to be an actor. There was no demand for actors\nin his native town, and he therefore decided to go to Copenhagen, the\ncapital of Denmark, there to seek his fortune.\n\nWith about five dollars in his pocket, Andersen reached Copenhagen in\nSeptember, 1819, but he found that a fortune was by no means as easily\nmade as he had fancied. He himself felt convinced that he should be a\nfamous actor, but how was he to convince any one else of this fact? From\none actor to another, from one theater manager to another he went, but\nall told him that for one reason or another he was not fitted for the\nstage. Particularly did Andersen resent the excuse of one manager, who\ntold him that he was too thin. This fault Andersen assured him that he\nwas only too willing to remedy, if he would only give him a chance and a\nsalary; but still the manager refused.\n\nFinally the boy was destitute of money and knew not where to turn for\nmore, for he was too proud to go back to his native town. However, an\nItalian singing teacher, Siboni, into whose home Andersen had almost\nforced himself while a dinner party was in progress, became interested\nin him, and with some friends provided him with enough to live on. He\nalso gave him singing lessons until the boy's voice gave out. Other\ninfluential people gradually became interested in the strange creature,\nwho certainly did appear to have some talent, but who had even more\nobvious defects; and so he lived on, supported in the most meager\nfashion.\n\nDetermined to write plays if he could not play them, Andersen composed\ndrama after drama. He would rush into the house of a total stranger, of\nwhom perhaps he had heard as a patron of genius, declaim some scenes\nfrom his plays, and then rush out, leaving his auditor in gasping\namazement. Finally he made the acquaintance of one of the directors of\nthe Royal Theatre, Jonas Collin, who was ever afterward his best friend.\nThrough the influence of this kindly man, Anderson was sent to school at\nSlagelse, and as he said later, the days of his degradation were over\nonce and for all.\n\nAndersen did not have an entirely pleasant time at school. He loved\nsystematic study no more than he had early in his life, and he did not\nfall in very readily with his young companions. However, he persisted,\nfor he was ashamed to disappoint his patron, Collin, and by the time he\nleft school in 1827, he had an education of which he needed not to be\nashamed. After his return to Copenhagen, he was able to pass his\nexaminations satisfactorily.\n\n[Illustration: HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 1805-1875]\n\nFrom this time on, Andersen's life was in the main happy, although he\nwas so sensitive and so sentimental that he was constantly fancying\ngrievances where none existed, and making himself miserable over\nimaginary snubs. It is true that his dramatic works were not well\nreceived, but this was because there was no real merit in them, and not,\nas Andersen persisted in believing, because the critics to whom they\nwere submitted had grudges against him. His first works that made a\ndistinctly favorable impression were travel sketches, for Andersen was\nall his life a great traveler, and knew how to write most charmingly and\nhumorously of all that he saw. His trips to other countries were all\ntreated most delightfully, and every book that appeared increased the\nauthor's fame. His visit to Italy, the country which all his life he\nloved above any other, also resulted in a novel, THE IMPROVISATORE,\nwhich became immensely popular and caused Andersen to be hailed as a\nfuture great novelist.\n\nHowever, it was neither for travel sketches nor for novels that he was\nto be best known, but for something entirely different, which he himself\nwas inclined at first to look down upon, and which many of his critics\nat the outset regarded as mere child's play. These were the fairy tales\nwhich he began in 1835, and which he published at intervals from that\ntime until his death. The children loved The Ugly Duckling, The Fir Tree\nand The Snow Queen; but it was not only the children who loved them.\nGradually people all over the world began to realize that here was a man\nwho knew how to tell tales to children in so masterly a manner that even\ngrown folks would do well to listen to him.\n\nNow that Andersen was at the height of his fame, he had no lack of\nfriends; for whether he was in Germany, or Spain, or England, he was\neverywhere given ovations that were fit for a king, and was everywhere\nentertained by the best people in the most sumptuous manner. At one time\nhe stayed for five weeks with Charles Dickens in his home at Gad's Hill,\nand the two were ever afterward firm friends. All of these people loved\nAndersen, not because of his fame, but because of the stories which had\nbrought him fame, and because he was distinctly lovable in spite of his\noddity; for Andersen was still odd. He was ugly and ungainly, and, owing\nto his fondness for decoration, often dressed in the most peculiar\nfashion. Then, too, he was so childishly vain of the fame which had come\nto him that he was at any time quite likely to stop in a crowded street\nand call across to a friend on the other side about some favorable\nnotice which he had just received. After people became accustomed to\nthis trait, however, they saw that it was but another phase of the\nchildlikeness which made Andersen so charming and so unlike many other\nfamous men.\n\nDespite his intimate knowledge of children, Andersen was never really\nfond of them. They worried him, and he, for some reason or other, never\nseemed very attractive to them. But if he could be induced to tell them\nor read them one of his stories, illustrating it with the queer antics\nand faces which he alone knew how to make, he was certain of an\nintensely interested audience.\n\nAndersen's fame and the love felt for him at home and abroad grew with\nhis every year, and when he died, in 1875, his death was looked upon as\na more than national calamity. The highest people in Denmark, including\nthe king and queen, who had come to look upon Andersen's friendship as a\ngreat honor, followed him to his grave; and children all over the world\nsorrowed when they were told that the author of the beloved Fairy Tales\nwould never write them another story.\n\n\n\n\nPICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER\n\nBy Robert Louis Stevenson\n\n\nSummer fading, winter comes--\nFrosty mornings, tingling thumbs,\nWindow robins, winter rooks,\nAnd the picture story-books.\n\nWater now is turned to stone\nNurse and I can walk upon;\nStill we find the flowing brooks\nIn the picture story-books.\n\nAll the pretty things put by\nWait upon the children's eye--\nSheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,\nIn the picture story-books.\n\nWe may see now all things are--\nSeas and cities, near and far,\nAnd the flying fairies' looks--\nIn the picture story-books.\n\nHow am I to sing your praise,\nHappy chimney-corner days,\nSitting safe in nursery nooks,\nReading picture story-books!\n\n\nWhat we like about so fine a little poem as this is that it sets our\nthoughts to flying. As we read it, we see autumn coming on, with the red\nand the gold and the orange tinting the leaves. We can hear the last\nnotes of the birds as they wing their way through the soft blue sky to\ngayer places in the warm southland. The cold comes fast, and in the\nmorning, as we try to play ball or gather the ripe nuts from the hazel\nbushes, our thumbs tingle with the frost.\n\nThe little Scotch boy sees his robin, a little bird with a reddish-\nyellow breast, come to his window, and hears the cawing of the rooks. We\nin the United States can hear the rough voice of the blue-jay, or\nperhaps see the busy downy woodpecker tapping industriously at the suet\nwe have hung in the tree for him.\n\nA few days later the water in the pond becomes hard as stone, and we can\nwalk over its smooth, glittering surface, or, if we are old enough, can\nmake our way back and forth in widening circles to the music of our\nringing skates. When the cold grows too severe and our cheeks burn in\nthe wind, we can run inside, curl up in a big chair where it is warm and\ncheery, and, burying our faces in our favorite books, can see once more\nthe little waves dancing on the pebbly shore of the pond, and hear the\nbabble of the brook.\n\nWhat can we find in the books? Everything that makes life merry, and\neverything that helps us to be true and manly. Out in the pasture the\nsheep are grazing, and among them walk the shepherds, singing gaily to\nthe wide sky and the bright sun. When, perchance, a frisking lamb strays\nnear the woods where perils lie, the shepherd follows, and with the\ncrook at the end of his staff draws the wanderer back to safety.\n\nThese wonderful books of ours will carry us across the seas, even. We,\nfor instance, might go to Scotland and play with the boy Stevenson. What\na delight it would be; for the man who can write so charmingly about\nchildren must have been a wonderfully interesting boy to play with. And\nthe cities we should see--quaint old Edinburgh, with its big, frowning\ncastle on the top of that high rugged hill, and in the castle yard, old\nMons Meg, the big cannon that every Scotch lad feels that he must crawl\ninto.\n\nIf that is too far away from us, we will come back to Boston, and walk\nthrough the Common, and hear again the Yankee boys bravely complaining\nto General Gage because the British soldiers have trampled down the snow\nfort the youngsters have built.\n\nBut those are only real things; the more wonderful things are the flying\nfairies whose deeds we may read in this very book.\n\nBut how can we write in prose the praise of the picture story-books when\nStevenson thinks he cannot do it in his pretty rhymes? Moreover, we have\njust found out that the poet's chimney corner is filled with the little\nones who can read only the simplest things, and need big, fine pictures\nand easy words. He was not writing for us at all--but that does not\nmatter. His little poem pleases us just the same.\n\nLet us turn back and read it again--I suspect that, after all, we are\nall of us small enough to sit in a chimney corner; and perhaps every\nbook is but a picture story-book to the man or woman who is old enough\nand big enough to read it rightly.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE WOLF WAS BOUND\n\nAdapted by Anna McCaleb\n\n\nIt seems strange that any one who might have lived with the gods in\ntheir beautiful city of Asgard [Footnote: The Norse peoples believed\nthat their gods lived above the earth in a wonderful city named Asgard.\nFrom this city they crossed to the earth on a bridge, which by people on\nearth was known as the rainbow.] and have shared in their joys and their\ngood works should have preferred to associate with the ugly, wicked\ngiants. But that was the case with Loki--Red Loki, as he was called,\nbecause of his red hair. He was handsome like a god; he was wise and\nclever like a god--more clever than any of the other gods. In one way,\nhowever, he differed from the others; he had a bad heart, and liked much\nbetter to use his cleverness in getting gods and men into trouble than\nin making them happy. Besides this, he was very proud, and could not\nbear to submit even to Odin, the king of the gods.\n\n\"Who is Odin,\" [Footnote: Odin, chief of the Norse gods, had been\ninduced to part with one eye in exchange for wisdom.] he muttered, \"that\nhe should be set over me? Is he more clever than I am? Is he more\nhandsome, with his one eye and his gray beard?\" And Loki held his\nhandsome head high.\n\nProud as he was, however, he was not too proud to do a disgraceful\nthing. He went off to the home of the giants and married the ugliest and\nfiercest of all the giantesses. Just why he did it does not seem very\nclear, for he certainly could not have loved her. Perhaps he did it just\nto spite the other gods and to show them that he cared nothing for what\nthey thought.\n\nBut he must have repented of his act when he saw the children which the\ngiantess bore him, for they were certainly the most hideous and\nfrightful children that were ever born into the world. The daughter,\nHela, was the least awful, but even she was by no means a person one\nwould care to meet. She was half white and half blue, and she had such\ngloomy, angry eyes that any one who looked at her sank into\nunconquerable sadness and finally into death. But the other two! One was\na huge, glistening, scaly serpent, with a mouth that dripped poison, and\nglaring, beady eyes; and the other was a white-fanged, red-eyed wolf.\n\nThese two monsters grew so rapidly that the king of the gods, looking\ndown from his throne in the heavens, was struck with fear.\n\n\"The gods themselves will not be safe if those monsters are allowed to\ngo unchecked,\" he said. \"Down there in the home of the giants they will\nbe taught to hate the gods, and at the rate they're growing, they'll\nsoon be strong enough to shake our very palaces.\"\n\nHe sent, therefore, the strongest of his sons to fetch the children of\nLoki before him. Well was it for those gathered about Odin's throne that\nthey were gods and goddesses, else would the eyes of Hela have sent them\nto their death. Upon her, Odin looked more in pity than in anger--she\nwas not all bad.\n\n\"You, Hela,\" he said, \"although it is not safe to allow you to remain\nabove ground, where you may do great harm to men, are not all wicked.\nHonor, therefore, shall be yours, and ease; but happiness shall be far\nfrom you. I shall make you queen over the regions of the dead--that\nkingdom which is as large as nine worlds.\"\n\nThen it was believed that the only honorable form of death was death in\nbattle; and the bravest of the heroes who died in battle were brought by\nOdin's messengers, the Valkyries, who always hovered on their cloud-\nhorses above battlefields, to the great palace of Valhalla. Therefore\nonly the cowards or the weak, who died in their beds, went to the\nunderground realm, and Hela knew that they were not subjects of whom she\ncould be proud. Nevertheless, she went without a word.\n\nOdin, then, without speaking, suddenly stooped and seized in his strong\narms the wriggling, slippery serpent. Over the wall of the city he threw\nit, and the gods watched it as it fell down, down, down, until at last\nit sank from sight into the sea. This was by no means the last of the\nserpent, however; under the water it grew and grew until it was so large\nthat it formed a girdle about the whole earth, and could hold its tail\nin its mouth.\n\nThe question as to what should be done with the great wolf, Fenris, was\nnot so easily answered. It seemed to all the gods that he had grown\nlarger and fiercer in the brief time he had stood before them, and none\nof them dared touch him. At length some one whispered, \"Let us kill\nhim,\" and the wolf turned and showed his teeth at the speaker; for as he\nwas the son of Loki, he could understand and speak the language of the\ngods.\n\n\"That cannot be,\" said Odin. \"Have we not sworn that the streets of our\ncity shall never be stained with blood? Let us leave the matter until\nanother time.\"\n\nSo the wolf was permitted to roam about Asgard, and the gods all tried\nto be kind to him, for they thought that by their kindness they might\ntame him. However, he grew stronger and stronger and more and more\nvicious, until only Tyr, [Footnote: Tyr was the Norse war-god.] the\nbravest of all the gods, dared go near him to give him food. One day, as\nthe gods sat in their council hall, they heard the wolf howling through\nthe streets.\n\n\"How long,\" said Odin, \"is our city to be made hideous by such noises?\nWe must bind Fenris the wolf.\"\n\nSilence followed his words, for all knew what a serious thing it was\nthat Odin proposed. Fenris must be bound--that was true; but who would\ndare attempt the task? And what chain could ever hold him? At length\nThor [Footnote: Thor, god of thunder, was the strongest of all the gods]\narose, and all sighed with relief; for if any one could bind the wolf,\nit was Thor. \"I will make a chain,\" he said, \"stronger than ever chain\nwas before, and then we shall find some way to fasten it upon him.\"\n\nThor strode to his smithy, and heaped his fire high. All night he worked\nat his anvil; whenever any of the gods awakened they could hear the\nclank! clank! clank! of his great hammer, and could see from their\nwindows the sparks from his smithy shining through the gloom. In the\nmorning the chain was finished, and all wondered at its strength, Then\nThor called to the huge wolf and said:\n\n\"Fenris, you are stronger than any of the gods. We cannot break this\nchain, but for you it will be mere child's play. Let yourself be bound\nwith it, that we may see how great your strength really is.\"\n\nNow the wolf knew his might better than any of them did, and he suffered\nhimself to be bound fast. Then he arose, stretched himself as if he were\njust waking from a nap, and calmly walked off, leaving the fragments of\nthe chain on the ground. The amazed gods looked at each other with\nfright in their eyes--what could they do?\n\n\"I will make a stronger chain,\" said Thor, undiscouraged. And again he\nwent to his smithy, where he worked all day and all night.\n\n\"This is the strongest chain that can ever be made,\" he said, when he\npresented it to the gods. \"If this will not hold him, nothing can.\"\n\nCalling the wolf, they flattered him and praised his strength, and\nfinally persuaded him to let himself be bound with this chain, \"just for\na joke.\" You may be sure, however, that they said nothing about its\nbeing the strongest chain that could ever be made.\n\nFenris pretended to lie helpless for a time; then he struggled to his\nfeet, shook his mighty limbs, tossed his hideous head--and the chain\nsnapped, and fell into a hundred pieces! Then indeed there was\nconsternation among the gods; but Odin, the all-wise, had a sudden\nhelpful thought. Calling his swiftest messenger, he said:\n\n\"Go to the dwarfs in their underground smithy. Tell them to forge for us\na chain which cannot be broken; and do you make all haste, for the wolf\ngrows stronger each moment.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE GODS WERE AMAZED]\n\nOff hastened the messenger, and in less time than it takes to tell it he\nwas with the dwarfs, giving them the message from Odin. The little men\nbustled about here and there, gathering up the materials of which the\nchain was to be made; and when these were all collected and piled in a\nheap, you might have looked and looked, and you would have seen nothing!\nFor this extraordinary chain was made of such things as the roots of\nmountains, the sound of a cat's footsteps, a woman's beard, the spittle\nof birds and the voice of fishes. When it was finished the messenger\nhurried back to Asgard and displayed it proudly to the anxious gods. It\nwas as fine and soft as a silken string, but the gods knew the\nworkmanship of the dwarfs, and had no fear.\n\n\"It will be easy,\" they said, \"to persuade Fenris to let himself be\nbound with this.\"\n\nBut they were mistaken. The wolf looked at the soft, shining cord\nsuspiciously, and said:\n\n\"If that is what it looks to be, I shall gain no honor from breaking it;\nif it has been made by magic, I shall never free myself.\"\n\n\"But we will free you,\" cried the gods. \"This is but a game to test your\nstrength.\"\n\n\"Not you,\" growled the wolf. \"I've lived here long enough to know that\nif I don't look out for myself, no one else will look out for me.\"\n\n\"All right, if you are afraid,\" said Thor, with a shrug of his\nshoulders. And the wolf replied, \"To show that I am no more cowardly\nthan the gods, I will suffer myself to be bound if one of you will put\nhis hand into my mouth.\"\n\nTo refuse to do this was, as the gods knew, to admit that they had meant\ntrickery, and thus to make Fenris hate them worse than ever. But what\none of them was willing to sacrifice his hand? Thor was no coward, but\nhe knew that he was the chief defender of the gods, and he could not let\nhimself be maimed. However, they did not have to wait long, for Tyr came\nforward, and thrust his hand into the wolf's mouth.\n\nThe wolf, his suspicions quieted, let himself be wrapped and bound with\nthe cord; and then, as he had done with the other chains, he stretched\nhimself--or tried to. For the magic rope but drew tighter and tighter\nfor all his struggling, until it cut into his very skin. Enraged, he\nbrought his great teeth sharply together, and bit off Tyr's hand at the\nwrist. Then he howled and snapped and growled, until the gods, unwilling\nto have their peace disturbed, thrust a sword into his mouth, so that\nthe hilt rested upon his lower jaw and the point pierced the roof of his\nmouth. They next fastened the cord to a rock, and left the wolf to\nwrithe and struggle and shake the earth. So they were freed for a time\nfrom their enemy, but at the cost of Tyr's hand.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF BALDER\n\nAdapted by Anna McCaleb\n\n\nOf all the gods in Asgard, Balder was most beloved; for no one had ever\nseen him frown, and his smile and the light of his eyes made all happy\nwho looked at him. And of all who dwelt in Asgard or ever gained\nadmission there, Loki was most hated. Clever as he was, he used his\ncleverness to harass the other gods and to make them wretched, and often\nhe attempted real crimes against them. It was natural enough that Loki,\nslighted and frowned upon, should hate Balder the beautiful, even though\nBalder himself had never spoken an unkind word to him.\n\n\"I cannot bear the sight of his shining hair and happy eyes,\" muttered\nLoki to himself. \"If I could just blot them out of Asgard I should be\nrevenging myself upon the gods for their bitterness toward me, for harm\nto Balder would hurt them more than harm to themselves.\"\n\nOne morning the assembled gods noticed that when Balder came among them\nhe looked less radiant than usual, and they gathered about him, begging\nthat he tell them what was wrong.\n\n\"It's nothing! It's nothing!\" said Balder; and he forced a smile, but it\nwas not his old smile. It reminded them all of the faint light the sun\nsheds when a thin cloud has drifted before it.\n\nAll day long, as they went about their tasks and their pleasures, the\ngods were conscious of a feeling of gloom; and when they stopped and\nquestioned themselves, they found that the cause lay in the diminished\nbrightness of Balder's smile. When, the next morning, Balder again came\nslowly to the great hall of the gods and showed a careworn face, Odin\nand Frigga, his father and mother, drew him apart and implored him to\ntell them the cause of his grief.\n\n\"My son,\" spoke Odin, \"it is not well that this gloom should rest on all\nthe gods, and they not know the cause. Perhaps we, your father and your\nmother, may help you.\"\n\nAt last Balder told them that for two nights he had had strange,\nhaunting dreams; what they were he could not remember clearly when he\nawoke, but he could not shake off their depressing effect.\n\n\"I only know,\" he said, \"that there was ever a thick cloud, which\ndrifted between me and the sun, and there were confused sounds of woe,\nand travelings in dark, difficult places.\"\n\nNow the gods knew well that their dreams were messages given them by the\nNorns, or Fates, and not for a moment did Odin and Frigga venture to\nlaugh at Balder's fears. They soothed him, however, by promising to find\nsome means of warding off any danger that might be threatening him.\nSomewhat cheered, Balder went home to his palace to comfort his\ndistressed wife, Nanna, while Odin and Frigga discussed measures for\ntheir son's safety.\n\n\"I,\" said Odin, \"shall ride to the domains of Hela, queen of the dead,\nand question the great prophetess who lies buried there, as to what\nBalder's dream may mean.\" And mounting Sleipnir, his eight-footed steed,\nhe rode away.\n\nAcross the rainbow bridge he passed, out of the light, and down, down,\ndown into the dark, hopeless realm of Hela. As he rode by the gate he\nsaw that preparations for a feast were being made within. A gloomy feast\nit would have to be in those drear regions, but evidently it was being\nspread for some honored guest, for rich tapestries and rings of gold\ncovered the couches, and vessels of gold graced the tables. Past the\ngate rode Odin, to a grave without the wall, where for ages long the\ngreatest of all prophetesses had lain buried. Here, in this dark, chill\nplace, was to be spoken the fate of Balder, bringer of light.\n\nSolemnly Odin chanted the awful charms that had power to raise the dead,\nand king of gods as he was, he started when the grave opened, and the\nprophetess, veiled in mist, rose before him.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" she demanded in hollow, ghost-like tones. \"And what\ncanst thou wish to know so weighty that only I, long dead, can answer\nthee?\"\n\nKnowing that she would refuse to answer him should she know who he\nreally was, Odin concealed his identity, and simply asked for whom the\nfeast was preparing in Hela's realm.\n\n\"For Balder, light of gods and men,\" replied the prophetess.\n\n\"And who shall dare to strike him down?\" cried Odin.\n\n\"By the hand of his blind brother Hoder shall he fall. And now let me\nrest.\" And the prophetess sank again into her tomb, leaving Odin with a\nheart more heavy and chill than the darkness which closed round him.\n\nMeanwhile Frigga had busied herself with a plan which her mother love\nhad suggested. First to all the gods in Asgard, then through all the\nearth did she go, saying, \"Promise me--swear to me--that you will never\nhurt Balder.\" Every bird, every beast, every creeping thing; all plants,\nstones and metals; all diseases and poisons known to gods and men; fire,\nwater, earth, air--all things gladly took oath to do Balder no harm.\n\n\"For do not we,\" they cried to Frigga, \"love him even as you do? And why\nthen should we harm him?\"\n\nGladly Frigga took her way toward home, feeling certain that she had\nsaved Balder forever. As she was about to enter Odin's palace, Valhalla,\nshe noticed on a branch of an oak that grew there, a tiny, weak-looking\nshrub. \"That mistletoe is too young to promise, and too weak to do any\nharm,\" said Frigga; and she passed it by.\n\nAll the gods rejoiced with her when she told of her success; even Odin\npartially shook off his fears, as he told the younger gods and the\nheroes who dwelt with him in his palace to go and seek enjoyment after\ntheir period of gloom. To the great playground of the gods they\nhastened, and there they invented a new game. Balder, smiling as of old,\ntook his stand in the midst, and all the others hurled at him weapons,\nstones and sticks, and even hit at him with their battle-axes. They grew\nvery merry over this pastime, for do what they would, none of them could\nharm Balder; the missiles either fell short, or dropped to his feet\nharmless.\n\nLoki, passing by, was at first amazed when he saw Balder being used as a\ntarget; then, when he saw that Balder remained unhurt through all, he\nbecame angry--he could not bear this proof of the fact that all things\nloved Balder. Hastening away, he disguised himself as an old woman and\nhobbled off to Fensalir, the mansion of Frigga.\n\n\"Do you know,\" said this old woman, entering the room where Frigga sat\nspinning, \"that the gods and heroes are playing a very dangerous game?\nThey are hurling all sorts of things at your son Balder, who stands in\ntheir midst.\"\n\n\"That is not a dangerous game,\" replied Frigga, smiling serenely. \"Last\nyear it might have been, but now all things have given me their solemn\noath not to harm Balder.\"\n\n\"Well, well, well,\" said the old woman, \"isn't that wonderful? To think\nthat any being should be so much beloved that everything should promise\nnot to hurt him! You said EVERYTHING, did you not?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Frigga. \"That is, it really amounts to everything. There\nis one tiny parasite, the mistletoe, which grows on the Valhalla oak,\nwhich I did not bother with.\"\n\nOnce out of sight of Frigga, Loki moved rapidly enough; and shortly he\nappeared, in his own form, among the gods, who were still shouting with\njoy over their game. In his hand he carried a dart; but who could have\nguessed, to look at it, that it had been fashioned from the mistletoe on\nthe Valhalla oak?\n\nOutside of the circle of the gods stood Hoder, Balder's blind brother,\nand there was no smile on his face. Loki approached him and asked\ncraftily:\n\n\"Why do you not join in the game? Are you not afraid that Balder will\nthink you are jealous of his good fortune if you take no part in this\nsport they have invented in his honor?\"\n\n[Illustration: HODER HURLED THE DART]\n\n\"Alas!\" said poor Hoder, \"I am left out of all the sports of the gods.\nHow can I, with my sightless eyes, tell where Balder is? And you see\nthat I have nothing in my hand. What, then, could I throw?\"\n\n\"I have here a little dart that I will give you,\" replied Loki. \"And\nsince you cannot direct your aim, I will guide your arm.\"\n\nJoyfully Hoder thanked him, and when Loki indicated the direction in\nwhich he was to throw, he hurled the dart with all his might.\nUnswervingly flew the mistletoe dart, and instead of falling at Balder's\nfeet, it lodged in his heart, so that he fell dead on the grass.\n\nThen, instead of the laughter which Hoder waited to hear, there went up\na shuddering wail of terror; and angry hands seized Hoder and angry\nvoices were in his ear.\n\n\"What have I done?\" he pleaded. \"I but wished to show honor to Balder as\nthe rest have done.\"\n\n\"And you have killed him!\" they cried. \"You shall die yourself.\"\n\n\"Peace! Peace!\" said Heimdal. \"Such a deed of violence must not stain\nthe home of the gods. Moreover, Hoder did it all unwittingly. It was\nLoki who directed his aim, and we are all to blame that we allowed him\nto set foot on our playground.\"\n\nBitter indeed was Hoder's grief, and he implored his heart-broken\nmother, Frigga, that he might be allowed to take Balder's place in dark\nHela's realm.\n\n\"Not you alone,\" she replied, \"but any of the gods, would willingly die\nfor Balder. But not in that way can he be brought back to Asgard. There\nis one chance--speak to Hermod, fleetest of the gods; tell him to take\nOdin's horse, Sleipnir, and ride to Hela's abode. Perchance, if he\nentreat her, she may give Balder up.\" Hermod, at the word of the\ndespairing Hoder, mounted the eight-footed steed, and set off on the\nperilous journey.\n\nMeanwhile, the other gods prepared the funeral pyre for Balder,\ndetermined that it should be worthy of the beloved and honored god.\nGreat pine trees were felled and piled upon the deck of Ringhorn,\nBalder's ship; tapestry hangings, garlands of flowers and ornaments of\ngold and silver were heaped upon the pyre.\n\nAnd finally, in sad procession, came the gods, bearing Balder's body,\nwhich they placed upon the flowers. His horse and his dogs were killed\nand placed beside him, that they might be with him to serve him in the\nunderworld. Then one after one of the gods stepped forward and chanted\ntheir farewells; but when Nanna's turn came, she was unable to speak.\nHer heart broke, and her spirit fled to join that of her husband. The\ngods could not sorrow for her death; they knew that the abode of the\ndead would have less terrors for the loving pair if they could be\ntogether there, so without tears they laid her beside her husband.\n\nLast of all, Odin advanced and cast upon the pyre his treasured ring,\nDraupnir, gift of the dwarfs, as an offering to his dead son. Then Thor,\nwith a touch of his hammer, which caused the lightning, set fire to the\npile, and the ship, with sails set, was launched.\n\nIn solemn silence the gods watched the ship float out upon the sea.\n\n   \"And wreathed in smoke, the ship stood out to sea.\n    Soon with a roaring rose the mighty fire,\n    And the pile crackled; and between the logs\n    Sharp quivering tongues of flame shot out, and leapt,\n    Curling and darting, higher, till they lick'd\n    The summit of the pile, the dead, the mast,\n    And ate the shriveling sails; but still the ship\n    Drove on, ablaze above her hull with fire.\n    And the gods stood upon the beach and gazed,\n    And while they gazed, the sun went lurid down\n    Into the smoke-wrapt sea, and night came on.\n    Then the wind fell, with night, and there was calm;\n    But through the night they watched the burning ship\n    Still carried o'er the distant waters on,\n    Farther and farther, like an eye of fire.\n    And long, in the far dark, blazed Balder's pile;\n    But fainter, as the stars rose high, it flared;\n    The bodies were consumed, ash choked the pile.\n    And as, in a decaying winter fire,\n    A charr'd log, falling, makes a shower of sparks--\n    So with a shower of sparks the pile fell in,\n    Reddening the sea around; and all was dark.\"\n[Footnote: The poetic quotations in this story are from\nMatthew Arnold's Balder Dead.]\n\nThen, when all was over, the gods went mournfully back to their homes,\nthere to await the return of Hermod. Their palaces were brightly\nilluminated, but no lights shone from the windows of Breidablik,\nBalder's palace; and as long as that was dark, the gods cared little for\nthe brilliance of their own dwellings.\n\nHermod, in the meantime, had journeyed across the rainbow bridge, and on\nand on toward the north until he reached the Giall river, which runs\nbetween the regions of Hela and the upper world. Well the guard of the\nbridge knew, when she heard on the bridge the noise of the horse's feet,\nthat it was no shade who was crossing; but when Hermod told his errand,\nhe was allowed to go on. And now his way led over trackless, slippery\nice, on which scarce any other horse could have kept his footing; and\nsurely no other horse could have leapt, as did Sleipnir, the gate to\nHela's own realm. Once within, Hermod came rapidly into the presence of\nthe queen, and on his knees before her implored her to allow Balder to\nreturn to the light and the upper air.\n\n    \"'For Heaven was Balder born, the city of gods\n      And heroes, where they live in light and joy.\n      Thither restore him, for his place is there!'\"\n\nHela remained unmoved by his pleadings; and what wonder? For she was\nLoki's daughter, and knew by whose act Balder had been sent below.\nFinally she said:\n\n\"Hermod, I shall try whether the protestations that all things lament\nBalder are indeed true. Return to Asgard; and if, through all the earth,\nall things, living and dead, weep for Balder, he shall return. But if\none thing in all the world refuses to shed tears, here he shall stay.\"\n\nCheered by this promise, Hermod turned to depart, but before he left he\ntalked with Balder and with Nanna, his wife. They told him that all\nhonor which could be paid to any one in the realms of the dead was paid\nto them; that Balder was made the judge in disputes between the shades.\nBut despite that, the days were weary, hopeless; no joy was there,\nnothing substantial--just days and nights of unvarying twilight, with\nnever a gleam of real brightness. Nor would Balder admit that there was\ncause for rejoicing in the promise of Hela. \"Well we know the family of\nLoki. Were there not some trick, Hela would never have spoken that\nword.\"\n\nNevertheless, it was with a heart lighter than at his coming that Hermod\nset out on his return journey. And when he reached Asgard there was\nrejoicing among the gods. For the first time since Balder's death, there\nwere the sounds of cheerful hurryings to and fro and of gods calling\neach to each as they set out upon their tasks; for all the gods wanted a\npart in the work of bringing Balder back to life.\n\nIn twos and threes they rode throughout all the world, and soon \"all\nthat lived, and all without life, wept.\" Trees, stones, flowers, metals\njoined willingly in grief for Balder the beautiful; and most of the gods\nspeedily returned in joy. But Hermod, as he rode, came to the mouth of a\ndark cave where sat an old hag named Thok. Years long she had sat there,\nand the gods knew her well, for she always cried out mockingly to all\nwho passed by; but Hermod could not know that to-day Loki had changed\nforms with the old hag, and that it was really that enemy of the gods\nwho sat before him. Dismounting, he besought the old woman to weep for\nBalder, as all things in heaven and earth had promised to do. But in a\nshrill voice she cried:\n\n\"With dry tears will Thok weep for Balder. Let Hela keep her prey.\"\n\nAnd as she fled, with harsh laughter, to the cave's depth, Hermod knew\nthat it was Loki who had this second time stolen life from Balder.\n\nSadly he rode back to Asgard, and in silent grief the gods heard his\ntale; for they knew that brightness was gone forever from the abode of\nthe gods--that Balder the beautiful should return no more.\n\n\nThis story of Balder is one of those myths which were invented to\nexplain natural happenings. The ancient peoples, knowing nothing about\nscience, could not account for such things as the rising and setting of\nthe sun and the change from summer to winter; and they made up\nexplanations which in time grew into interesting stories.\n\nSome students believe that in this story the death of Balder (the sun)\nby the hand of Hoder (darkness) represents the going down of the sun at\neach day's close.\n\nAnother explanation, and a more probable one, is that the death of\nBalder represents the close of the short northern summer and the coming\non of the long winter. That is, the dreary winter, with its darkness, is\nrepresented by Hoder, who had strength, but could not make use of it to\naid men or gods; who could, however, with his blind strength, slay\nBalder, who stood for the blessed, life-giving qualities of the summer\nsun.\n\nLoki represented fire. He had in him elements of good, but because of\nthe fact that he had used his power often to harm, as does fire, instead\nof to bless, he was feared and hated and avoided; and thus he became\njealous of Balder.\n\nFor a myth which the Greeks and Romans invented about the sun, see the\nstory of Phaethon, in this volume.\n\n[Illustration: STRANGE OPAL LIGHTS FILTERED THROUGH THE WATER]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PUNISHMENT OF LOKI\n\nAdapted by Anna McCaleb\n\n\nAfter Balder's death the gods felt that they had little to make them\nhappy. Their thoughts dwelt always on their loss, or on their desire to\npunish Loki; and in neither of these thoughts was there any joy, for to\nthe pure minds of the gods, the thought of violence could bring nothing\nbut pain.\n\nOne day the sea-god Aegir sent to the dwellers in Asgard an invitation\nto a banquet in his sea caverns, and all accepted except Thor, who had\nbusiness that called him elsewhere. On the appointed morning they\nappeared at Aegir's palace, and while at first they forced themselves to\nsmile and appear cheerful, in compliment to their host, they soon found\nthemselves, because of the novelty of all about them, becoming genuinely\ninterested. The palace was of coral, pink and white--rough on the\noutside, but smooth and polished within; and the floors were strewn with\nsand so fine and white that it looked like marble. Draperies of bright-\ncolored seaweed hung everywhere, and the gay sea flowers met their eyes\nat every turn, while the dishes and cups in which the feast was served\nwere the most delicate pearl-tinted shells. Strange opal lights filtered\nthrough the water and into the banqueting hall, and great whales and sea\nsnakes looked in through the windows on the gods as they sat at table.\n\nAll was cheerfulness and merriment, but suddenly the gods felt a chill\ncome over them, as if a wind from Hela's ice-bound realm had rushed\npast. Turning, they saw Loki on the threshold. With a muttered excuse\nfor his lateness he slipped into his seat; and then, since none except\nhis host greeted him, and since the merry talk was not resumed, he\nglanced about the table and said:\n\n\"Pretty manners are these! Does no one pledge me in wine? Does no one\nhave a word for me?\"\n\nPainfully the gods forced themselves to take up their conversation,\nthough all avoided talking directly to Loki, whose expression became\nmore lowering every moment. At length Odin turned to his host.\n\n\"This servant, Funfeng, is deft and skilful. Even in my palace I have\nnot his superior.\"\n\nAegir bowed. \"Since the king of the gods is pleased with Funfeng,\nFunfeng is no longer my servant, but the servant of Odin. He shall wait\nupon the heroes in Valhalla.\"\n\nWith a cry of jealous rage Loki sprang to his feet. \"Never!\" he cried,\nand he struck Funfeng so violently that he fell dead.\n\nAll the gods leaped up, and they drove Loki from the palace, commanding\nhim never to appear in their presence again; but scarcely had they\nseated themselves to resume their interrupted feast, when the crafty god\nagain entered the room. Not waiting for them to speak, he began to\nrevile them. His words came in a rapid stream; he stopped not to draw\nbreath. Beginning with Odin, he attacked the gods in turn, mocking their\nphysical peculiarities, recounting every deed which they had done that\nwas not to their credit, shaming them because he had always been able to\nelude them easily, and because only he could help them out of their\ndifficulties. Finally he came to Sif, Thor's golden-haired wife, whom\nlong before he had robbed of her tresses.\n\n\"As for Sif,\" he began, \"I could tell a tale of her that--\"\n\nBut he went no further, for a peal of thunder drowned his words, and a\nblinding flash of lightning made him cover his eyes with his hands. The\ngods sighed in relief, for Thor stood among them, his eyes shooting\nfire.\n\n\"Already,\" he cried, \"has Aegir's palace been stained with blood to-day.\nI will not, therefore, kill you here. But if ever you appear before my\neyes again, I shall smite you; and if ever you dare to speak Sif's name,\nI shall hear it though I am in the uttermost parts of the earth, and I\nshall have vengeance.\"\n\n\"Well spoken, son Thor,\" said Odin. \"But I too have something to say to\nLoki. We shall permit you to go unharmed to-day, but if you care for\nyour life, hide yourself. We shall seek you; and the gods have keen\neyes. And if we find you out, you shall die.\"\n\nSullen, frightened, Loki withdrew. He wandered about long in the most\nbarren, desolate parts of the earth, cursing the gods and hating\nhimself. At length he found a spot which he felt sure would be hidden\neven from Odin's eyes. It was in a steep, rocky valley, where nothing\ngrew, and where no sound ever came except the weird noise of the wind as\nit swept through the narrow passes, and the chatter of a mountain stream\nas it leapt down the rocks.\n\nHere, in this solitary place, Loki built himself a hut of piled-up\nrocks. Four walls had the hut, and in each wall was a door, for Loki\nwished to be able to see the gods, from whatever direction they\napproached, and to make his escape. He had always been a famous\nfisherman, and now the fish which he took from the stream formed his\nonly food.\n\nSometimes he changed himself into a salmon and floated about in the\nquieter places of the stream. He never talked with the other fish who\nlived in the stream, but somehow he felt less lonely with those living\nthings about him than he did in his solitary hut on the mountain side.\n\nOne day (for Loki was a very clever workman) he began to fashion\nsomething, the like of which there had not been in the world before.\nThis was a net for fishing; and so interested did Loki become in\ntwisting and knotting the cords, that he almost forgot to keep watch for\nhis enemies, the gods. The net was almost finished, when one afternoon\nLoki raised his head and saw through one of his doors three gods\napproaching--Odin, Thor and Heimdal, wisest of the gods. With a curse he\ntossed his net upon the fire--\"THEY shall never have it!\"--and slipped\nfrom his hut. Splash! And there was a huge salmon deep down in the\nstream, while Loki was nowhere to be seen.\n\nThe gods were greatly disappointed when they entered the hut; they had\nbeen so sure that at last they had found the hiding place of the wicked\none, and it seemed they had missed him again. However, they knew his\npower of disguising himself, and they were not utterly discouraged.\n\n\"He has not been gone long,\" said Heimdal, \"for look--the fire still\nburns. And what is this upon the fire?\" And he drew out the partly\nburned fish net.\n\n\"What can it be?\" asked Odin. \"It is too coarse for any sort of covering\nfor the body, and not strong enough to use in entangling an enemy.\"\n\n\"Wait!\" said Heimdal. \"I have it--I have it! It's a net for fishing--\nLoki was always a fisherman. See,\" he exclaimed excitedly, \"you take it\nSO,\" thrusting one end into Thor's hand, \"and you drag it through the\nwater SO. The water runs through and the fish are held. O, clever Loki!\"\n\n\"But why,\" asked Thor, \"should he burn it up, when he has spent so much\nwork upon it?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Heimdal musingly, \"unless--unless. Where could he\nhide except in that stream, and how could he conceal himself there\nwithout changing himself to a fish? Mark my words. Loki is there, and he\nfeared we might catch him with his own net.\"\n\n\"That,\" said Odin, \"would be a form of justice for which one would\nscarcely dare hope. I fear the net is too badly burned for use.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" replied Heimdal. \"Here is more flax, and we can easily repair\nthe damage the fire has done.\"\n\nSo the three gods sat upon the floor of the hut and mended the burned\nnet, keeping an eye always on the stream, that Loki might not make his\nescape. And when the net was ready they went forth, and with it dragged\nthe stream. Not a fish did they catch, for Loki had frightened the real\nfish away, and he himself was hiding between two big stones, so that the\nnet passed over him.\n\n\"The thing is too light,\" said Thor. \"It does not touch the bottom.\"\n\n\"That we can soon change,\" replied Heimdal, and he set about fastening\nstones to the lower edge of the net.\n\nAgain they began to drag the river, and this time Loki feared that he\ncould not escape. But just as the net almost touched him, he gave a\nmighty leap and sprang clear of the net. The silvery flash, the sudden\nsplash, startled the gods, so that they almost dropped the net; but it\ntold them what they wanted to know--Loki WAS in the stream. Turning,\nthey dragged the net down the stream, driving Loki nearer and nearer to\nthe sheer drop of the waterfall, down which he dared not plunge.\nDesperate, he made another leap, and again he almost escaped; but Thor's\nquick eyes saw him, Thor's strong, iron-gloved hand gripped him. The\ngreat salmon struggled, but Thor held it fast by the tail, and finally\nflung it out upon the bank.\n\n[Illustration: THOR'S HAND GRIPPED HIM]\n\nLoki, within the fish, vowed to himself that he would not return to his\nown shape; but the fish's body could not live long out of the water, and\nsoon he found himself growing weak and faint. At length, therefore, he\nwas obliged to assume his own form, and there he stood, handsome, but\nevil-looking, before the waiting gods.\n\n\"It hurts us,\" said Odin, \"that we should be forced to treat one of our\nown kind in this way. Perhaps even now--tell us that you do regret your\npast wickedness, that you are sorry for the trouble you have caused the\ngods, that you grieve sometimes for Balder's death.\"\n\n\"I grieve,\" said Loki, \"only that I have caused so little trouble among\nthe gods; I regret only that the days for pitting my cleverness against\nyour stupidity are at an end--for I ask for no mercy. As for Balder's\ndeath, it has been my chief cause for rejoicing as I have dwelt here in\nthis solitary place.\"\n\nShocked by his hardness, the gods led him away to the punishment which\nthey had planned for him. The other gods met them by the way, and troops\nof dwarfs and elves and human beings and animals sprang up on every\nside, and followed them. And in the hearts of all these followers there\nwas joy, for Loki had never done them anything but harm; and besides,\nhad he not slain Balder, the beautiful, the beloved?\n\nBut in the hearts of the gods there was pain, for Loki was of their own\nnumber, and far back in the beginnings of time, before he had become\nwicked, he had been their great pride, by reason of his cleverness.\n\nThey passed, a noisy procession, to a dark, underground cavern, a damp,\nslimy place, where snakes looked out from their holes, and toads sat\nupon the stones. Here were three sharp-pointed rocks, which Thor pierced\nwith holes; and to these rocks they bound the wretched Loki with chains\nof adamant.\n\n\"Here he shall stay,\" said Odin, \"until the last great day shall come\nfor gods and men.\"\n\nA giantess, whose son Loki had killed, came with a great serpent, which\nshe fastened directly over Loki's head; and from the serpent's mouth\ndripped poison, which fell, drop by drop, upon Loki's upturned face. His\nwife, Sigyn, could not bear to see her husband in such agony, so she\ntook her stand beside him, cup in hand, and caught the poison as it\nfell. There through the ages on ages she stood, relieving Loki's pain,\nand trying to cheer him, for whom there was no cheer. When the cup was\nfilled and she had to go to the cavern's mouth to empty it, then the\nvenom fell on Loki's face, and in his terrible pain he struggled and\nwrithed until the earth shook. And all the people, startled at their\nwork or from their sleep, cried, \"Loki's earthquake!\"\n\n\n\n\nSEVEN TIMES ONE\n\nBy Jean Ingelow\n\n\nThere's no dew left on the daisies and clover,\nThere's no rain left in heaven;\nI've said my \"seven times\" over and over--\nSeven times one are seven.\n\nI am so old, so old I can write a letter;\nMy birthday lessons are done;\nThe lambs play always, they know no better;\nThey are only one times one.\n\nO moon! in the night I have seen you sailing\nAnd shining so round and low;\nYou were bright! ah, bright! but your light is failing--\nYou are nothing now but a bow.\n\nYou moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,\nThat God has hidden your face?\nI hope if you have you will soon be forgiven,\nAnd shine again in your place.\n\nO velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow,\nYou've powdered your legs with gold!\nO brave marsh marybuds, rich and yellow,\nGive me your money to hold!\n\nO columbine, open your folded wrapper,\nWhere two twin turtledoves dwell!\nO cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper\nThat hangs in your clear green bell!\n\nAnd show me your nest with the young ones in it;\nI will not steal them away;\nI am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet--\nI am seven times one to-day.\n\n\n\n\nSHUFFLE-SHOON AND AMBER-LOCKS\n[Footnote: From 'Love Songs of Childhood'. Copyright, 1894,\nby Eugene Field, published by Charles Scribner's Sons.]\n\nBy Eugene Field\n\n\nShuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks\nSit together, building blocks;\nShuffle-Shoon is old and gray,\nAmber-Locks a little child.\n\nBut together at their play\nAge and Youth are reconciled,\nAnd with sympathetic glee\nBuild their castles fair to see.\n\n\"When I grow to be a man,\"\n(So the wee one's prattle ran),\n\"I shall build a castle so--\nWith a gateway broad and grand;\nHere a pretty vine shall grow,\nThere a soldier guard shall stand;\nAnd the tower shall be so high,\nFolks will wonder, by and by!\"\n\nShuffle-Shoon quoth: \"Yes, I know;\nThus I builded long ago!\nHere a gate and there a wall,\nHere a window, there a door;\nHere a steeple wondrous tall\nRiseth ever more and more!\nBut the years have leveled low\nWhat I builded long ago!\"\n\nSo they gossip at their play,\nHeedless of the fleeting day;\nOne speaks of the Long Ago\nWhere his dead hopes buried lie;\nOne with chubby cheeks aglow\nPrattleth of the By-and-By;\nSide by side, they build their blocks--\nShuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks.\n\n\n\n\nAFTERWHILE\n[Footnote: From the poem to Afterwhiles by James\nWhitcomb Riley. Used by special permission of the\npublishers--The Bobbs-Merrill Company.]\n\nBy James Whitcomb Riley\n\n\nAfterwhile we have in view\nThe old home to journey to:\nWhere the Mother is, and where\nHer sweet welcome waits us there.\nHow we'll click the latch that locks\nIn the pinks and hollyhocks,\nAnd leap up the path once more\nWhere she waits us at the door;\nHow we'll greet the dear old smile\nAnd the warm tears--afterwhile.\n\n\n\n\nWINDY NIGHTS\n\nBy ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON\n\n\nWhenever the moon and stars are set,\nWhenever the wind is high,\nAll night long in the dark and wet,\nA man goes riding by.\nLate in the night when the fires are out,\nWhy does he gallop and gallop about?\nWhenever the trees are crying aloud,\nAnd ships are tossed at sea,\nBy, on the highway, low and loud,\nBy at the gallop goes he.\nBy at the gallop he goes, and then\nBy he comes back at the gallop again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\nTHE FIRST STORY\n\nWHICH TREATS OF THE MIRROR AND FRAGMENTS\n\n\nLook you, now we're going to begin. When we are at the end of the story\nwe shall know more than we do now, for he was a bad goblin. He was one\nof the very worst, for he was a demon. One day he was in very good\nspirits, for he had made a mirror which had this peculiarity, that\neverything good and beautiful that was reflected in it shrank together\ninto almost nothing, but that whatever was worthless and looked ugly\nbecame prominent and looked worse than ever. The most lovely landscapes\nseen in this mirror looked like boiled spinach, and the best people\nbecame hideous, or stood on their heads and had no bodies; their faces\nwere so distorted as to be unrecognizable, and a single freckle was\nshown spread out over nose and mouth. That was very amusing, the demon\nsaid. When good, pious thoughts passed through any person's mind these\nwere again shown in the mirror, so that the demon chuckled at his\nartistic invention.\n\nThose who visited the goblin school--for he kept a goblin school--\ndeclared everywhere that a wonder had been wrought. For now, they\nasserted, one could see, for the first time, how the world and the\npeople in it really looked. Now they wanted to fly up to heaven, to\nsneer and scoff at the angels themselves. The higher they flew with the\nmirror, the more it grinned; they could scarcely hold it fast. They flew\nhigher and higher, and then the mirror trembled so terribly amid its\ngrinning that it fell down out of their hands to the earth, where it was\nshattered into a hundred million million and more fragments.\n\nAnd now this mirror occasioned much more unhappiness than before; for\nsome of the fragments were scarcely as large as a barleycorn, and these\nflew about in the world, and whenever they flew into any one's eye they\nstuck there, and that person saw everything wrongly, or had only eyes\nfor the bad side of a thing, for every little fragment of the mirror had\nretained the power which the whole glass possessed. A few persons even\ngot a fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and that was terrible\nindeed, for such a heart became a block of ice. A few fragments of the\nmirror were so large that they were used as window panes, but it was a\nbad thing to look at one's friends through these panes: other pieces\nwere made into spectacles, and then it went badly when people put on\nthese spectacles to see rightly, and to be just; and then the demon\nlaughed till his paunch shook, for it tickled him so. But without, some\nlittle fragments of glass still floated about in the air--and now we\nshall hear\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND STORY\n\nA LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL\n\n\nIn the great town, where there are many houses, and so many people that\nthere is not room enough for every one to have a little garden, and\nwhere consequently most persons are compelled to be content with flowers\nin pots, were two poor children who possessed a garden somewhat larger\nthan a flowerpot. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each\nother quite as much as if they had been. Their parents lived just\nopposite each other in two garrets, there where the roof of one\nneighbor's house joined that of another. And where the water pipe ran\nbetween the two houses was a little window; one had only to step across\nthe pipe to get from one window to the other.\n\nThe parents of each child had a great box, in which grew kitchen herbs\nthat they used, and a little rosebush; there was one in each box, and\nthey grew famously. Now, it occurred to the parents to place the boxes\nacross the pipe, so that they reached from one window to another, and\nlooked quite like two embankments of flowers. Pea plants hung down over\nthe boxes, and the rosebushes shot forth long twigs, which clustered\nround the windows and bent down toward each other; it was almost like a\ntriumphal arch of flowers and leaves. As the boxes were very high, and\nthe children knew that they might not creep upon them, they often\nobtained permission to step out upon the roof behind the boxes, and to\nsit upon their little stools under the roses, and there they could play\ncapitally.\n\nIn the winter time there was an end of this amusement. The windows were\nsometimes quite frozen over. But then they warmed copper shillings on\nthe stove, and held the warm coins against the frozen pane; and this\nmade a capital peep-hole, so round! so round! and behind it gleamed a\npretty mild eye at each window; and these eyes belonged to the little\nboy and the little girl. His name was Kay and the little girl's was\nGerda.\n\nIn the summer they could get to one another at one bound; but in the\nwinter they had to go down and up the long staircase, while the snow was\npelting without.\n\n\"Those are the white bees swarming,\" said the old grandmother.\n\n\"Have they a queen bee?\" asked the little boy. For he knew that there is\none among the real bees.\n\n\"Yes, they have one,\" replied grandmamma. \"She always flies where they\nswarm thickest. She is the largest of them all, and never remains quiet\nupon the earth; she flies up again into the black cloud. Many a midnight\nshe is flying through the streets of the town, and looks in at the\nwindows, and then they freeze in such a strange way, and look like\nflowers.\"\n\n\"Yes, I've seen that!\" cried both the children; and now they knew that\nit was true.\n\n[Illustration: THE SNOWFLAKE AT LAST BECAME A MAIDEN]\n\n\"Can the Snow Queen come in here?\" asked the little girl.\n\n\"Only let her come,\" cried the boy; \"I'll set her upon the warm stove,\nand then she'll melt.\"\n\nBut grandmother smoothed his hair, and told some other tales. In the\nevening, when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he clambered\nupon the chair by the window, and looked through the little hole. A few\nflakes of snow were falling outside, and one of them, the largest of\nthem all, remained lying on the edge of one of the flower boxes.\n\nThe snowflake grew larger and larger, and at last became a maiden\nclothed in the finest white gauze, put together of millions of starry\nflakes. She was beautiful and delicate, but of ice--of shining,\nglittering ice. Yet she was alive; her eyes flashed like two clear\nstars, but there was no peace or rest in them. She nodded toward the\nwindow, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and\nsprang down from the chair; then it seemed as if a great bird flew by\noutside, in front of the window.\n\nNext day there was a clear frost, and then the spring came; the sun\nshone, the green sprouted forth, the swallows built nests, the windows\nwere opened, and the little children again sat in their garden high up\nin the roof, over all the floors.\n\nHow splendidly the roses bloomed this summer! The little girl had\nlearned a psalm, in which mention was made of roses; and, in speaking of\nroses, she thought of her own; and she sang it to the little boy, and he\nsang, too:\n\n    \"The roses will fade and pass away,\n     But we the Christ-child shall see one day.\"\n\nAnd the little ones held each other by the hand, kissed the roses,\nlooked at God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it, as if the Christ-child\nwere there. What splendid summer days those were! How beautiful it was\nwithout, among the fresh rosebushes!\n\nKay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture book of beasts and birds.\nThen it was, while the clock was just striking twelve on the church\ntower, that Kay said:\n\n\"Oh! something struck my heart and pricked me in the eye.\" The little\ngirl fell upon his neck; he blinked his eyes. No, there was nothing at\nall to be seen.\n\n\"I think it is gone,\" said he; but it was not gone. It was just one of\nthose glass fragments which sprang from the mirror--the magic mirror\nthat we remember well, the ugly glass that made every great and good\nthing which was mirrored in it to seem small and mean, but in which the\nmean and the wicked things were brought out in relief, and every fault\nwas noticeable at once. Poor little Kay had also received a splinter\njust in his heart, and that will now soon become like a lump of ice. It\ndid not hurt him now, but the splinter was still there.\n\n\"Why do you cry?\" he asked. \"You look ugly like that. There's nothing\nthe matter with me. Oh, fie!\" he suddenly exclaimed, \"that rose is worm-\neaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all, they're ugly roses.\nThey're like the box in they stand.\"\n\nAnd then he kicked the box with his foot, and tore both the roses off.\n\n\"Kay, what are you about?\" cried the little girl.\n\nAnd when he noticed her fright he tore off another rose, and then sprang\nin at his own window, away from pretty little Gerda.\n\nWhen she afterward came with her picture book, he said it was only fit\nfor babies in arms; and when his grandmother told stories he always came\nin with a BUT; and when he could manage it, he would get behind her, put\non a pair of spectacles, and talk just as she did; he could do that very\ncleverly, and the people laughed at him. Soon he could mimic the speech\nand the gait of everybody in the street. Everything that was peculiar or\nugly about people, Kay would imitate; and every one said, \"That boy must\ncertainly have a remarkable genius.\" But it was the glass that struck\ndeep in his heart; so it happened that he even teased little Gerda, who\nloved him with all her heart.\n\nHis games now became quite different from what they were before; they\nbecame quite sensible. One winter's day when it snowed he came out with\na great burning glass, held up the blue tail of his coat, and let the\nsnowflakes fall upon it.\n\n\"Now look at the glass, Gerda,\" said he.\n\nAnd every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a splendid\nflower, or a star with ten points--it was beautiful to behold.\n\n\"See how clever that is,\" said Kay. \"That's much more interesting than\nreal flowers; and there's not a single fault in it--they're quite\nregular until they begin to melt.\"\n\nSoon after, Kay came in thick gloves, and with his sledge upon his back.\nHe called up to Gerda. \"I've got leave to go into the great square,\nwhere the other boys play;\" and he was gone.\n\nIn the great square the boldest among the boys often tied their sledges\nto the country people's carts, and thus rode with them a good way. They\nwent capitally. When they were in the midst of their playing there came\na great sledge. It was painted quite white, and in it sat somebody\nwrapped in a rough, white fur, with a white, rough cap on his head. The\nsledge drove twice round the square, and Kay bound his little sledge to\nit, and so he drove on with it. It went faster and faster, straight into\nthe next street. The man who drove turned round and nodded in a familiar\nway to Kay; it was as if they knew one another. Each time when Kay\nwanted to cast loose his little sledge, the stranger nodded again, and\nthen Kay remained where he was, and thus they drove out at the town\ngate. Then the snow began to fall so rapidly that the boy could not see\na hand's breadth before him; but still he drove on. Now he hastily\ndropped the cord, so as to get loose from the great sledge; but that was\nno use, for his sledge was fast bound to the other, and they went on\nlike the wind. Then he called out quite loudly, but nobody heard him;\nand the snow beat down, and the sledge flew onward. Every now and then\nit gave a jump, and they seemed to be flying over hedges and ditches.\nThe boy was quite frightened. He wanted to say his prayer, but could\nremember nothing but the multiplication table.\n\nThe snowflakes became larger and larger; at last they looked like white\nfowls. All at once they sprang aside, the great sledge stopped, and the\nperson who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap were made\naltogether of ice. It was A LADY, tall and slender, and brilliantly\nwhite: it was the Snow Queen!\n\n\"We have driven well!\" said she. \"But why do you tremble with cold?\nCreep into my fur.\"\n\nAnd she seated him beside her in her own sledge, and wrapped the fur\nround him, and he felt as if he sank into a snowdrift.\n\n\"Are you still cold?\" asked she, and then she kissed him on the\nforehead.\n\nOh, that was colder than ice; it went quite through to his heart, half\nof which was already a lump of ice. He felt as if he were going to die,\nbut only for a moment; for then he seemed quite well, and he did not\nnotice the cold all about him.\n\n\"My sledge! Don't forget my sledge.\"\n\nThat was the first thing he thought of; and it was bound fast to one of\nthe white chickens, and this chicken flew behind him with the sledge\nupon its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he had\nforgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home.\n\n\"Now you shall have no more kisses,\" said she, \"for if you did I should\nkiss you to death.\"\n\nKay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more\nsensible or lovely face; she did not appear to him to be made of ice\nnow, as she did when she sat at the window and beckoned to him. In his\neyes she was perfect; he did not feel at all afraid. He told her that he\ncould do mental arithmetic as far as fractions; that he knew the number\nof square miles and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she\nalways smiled, and then it seemed to him that what he knew was not\nenough. And he looked up into the wide sky, and she flew with him high\nup upon the black cloud, and the storm blew and whistled; it seemed as\nthough the wind sang old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea\nand land; below them the cold wind roared, the wolves howled, the snow\ncrackled; over them flew the black, screaming crows; but above all the\nmoon shone bright and clear, and Kay looked at the long, long winter\nnight; by day he slept at the feet of the Queen.\n\n\n\nTHE THIRD STORY\n\nTHE FLOWER GARDEN OF THE WOMAN WHO COULD CONJURE\n\n\nBut how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay did not return? What\ncould have become of him? No one knew, no one could give information.\nThe boys only told that they had seen him bind his sledge to another\nvery large one, which had driven along the street and out at the town\ngate. Nobody knew what had become of him; many tears were shed, and\nlittle Gerda especially wept long and bitterly. Then she said he was\ndead--he had been drowned in the river which flowed close by their\nschool. Oh, those were very dark, long winter days! But now spring came,\nwith warmer sunshine.\n\n\"Kay is dead and gone,\" said little Gerda.\n\n\"I don't believe it,\" said the Sunshine.\n\n\"He is dead and gone,\" said she to the Sparrows. \"We don't believe it,\"\nthey replied; and at last little Gerda did not believe it herself.\n\n\"I will put on my new red shoes,\" she said one morning--\"those that Kay\nhas never seen; and then I will go down to the river, and ask for him.\"\n\nIt was still very early; she kissed the old grandmother, who was still\nasleep, put on her red shoes, and went quite alone out of the town gate\ntoward the river.\n\n\"Is it true that you have taken my little playmate from me? I will give\nyou my red shoes if you will give him back to me.\"\n\nAnd it seemed to her as if the waves nodded quite strangely; and then\nshe took her red shoes, which she liked best of anything she possessed,\nand threw them both into the river; but they fell close to the shore,\nand the little wavelets carried them back to her, to the land. It seemed\nas if the river would not take from her the dearest things she possessed\nbecause he had not her little Kay. But she thought she had not thrown\nthe shoes far enough out, so she crept into a boat that lay among the\nreeds, went to the other end of the boat, and threw the shoes from\nthence into the water; but the boat was not bound fast, and at the\nmovement she made it glided away from the shore. She noticed it, and\nhurried to get back; but before she reached the other end, the boat was\na yard from the bank, and it drifted away faster than before.\n\nThen little Gerda was very much frightened, and began to cry; but no one\nheard her except the Sparrows, and they could not carry her to land; but\nthey flew along the shore, and sang, as if to console her, \"Here we are!\nhere we are!\" The boat drove on with the stream, and little Gerda sat\nquite still, with only her stockings on her feet; her little red shoes\nfloated along behind her, but they could not come up to the boat, for\nthat made more way.\n\nIt was very pretty on both shores. There were beautiful flowers, old\ntrees, and slopes with sheep and cows; but not ONE person was to be\nseen.\n\n\"Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,\" thought Gerda.\n\nAnd then she became more cheerful, and rose up, and for many hours she\nwatched the charming green banks; then she came to a great cherry\norchard, in which stood a little house with remarkable blue and red\nwindows; it had a thatched roof, and without stood two wooden soldiers,\nwho presented arms to those who sailed past.\n\n[Illustration: THEY FLEW OVER WOODS AND LAKES]\n\nGerda called to them, for she thought they were alive, but of course\nthey did not answer. She came quite close to them. The river carried the\nboat toward the shore.\n\nGerda called still louder, and then there came out of the house an old\nwoman leaning on a crutch; she had on a great velvet hat, painted over\nwith the finest flowers.\n\n\"You poor little child!\" said the old woman. \"How did you manage to come\non the great rolling river, and to float thus far out into the world?\"\n\nAnd then the old woman went quite into the water, seized the boat with\nher crutch stick, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And\nGerda was glad to be on dry land again, though she felt a little afraid\nof the strange old woman.\n\n\"Come and tell me who you are, and how you came here,\" said the old\nlady. And Gerda told her everything; and the old woman shook her head,\nand said, \"Hem! hem!\" And when Gerda had told everything, and asked if\nshe had not seen little Kay, the woman said that he had not yet come by,\nbut that he probably would soon come. Gerda was not to be sorrowful, but\nto look at the flowers and taste the cherries, for they were better than\nany picture book, for each one of them could tell a story. Then she took\nGerda by the hand and led her into the little house, and locked the\ndoor.\n\nThe windows were very high, and the panes were red, blue and yellow; the\ndaylight shone in a remarkable way, with different colors. On the table\nstood the finest cherries, and Gerda ate as many of them as she liked,\nfor she had leave to do so. While she was eating them, the old lady\ncombed Gerda's hair with a golden comb, and the yellow hair hung softly\nround the friendly little face, which looked as blooming as a rose.\n\n\"I have long wished for such a dear little girl as you,\" said the old\nlady. \"Now you shall see how well we shall live with one another.\"\n\nAnd as the ancient dame combed her hair, Gerda forgot her adopted\nbrother Kay more and more; for this old woman could conjure, but she was\nnot a wicked witch. She only practiced a little magic for her own\namusement, and wanted to keep little Gerda. Therefore she went into the\ngarden, stretched out her crutch toward all the rosebushes, and,\nbeautiful as they were, they all sank into the earth, and one could not\ntell where they had stood. The old woman was afraid that, if the little\ngirl saw roses, she would think of her own, and remember little Kay, and\nrun away.\n\nNow Gerda was led out into the flower garden. What fragrance was there,\nand what loveliness! Every conceivable flower was there in full bloom;\nthere were some for every season; no picture book could be gayer and\nprettier. Gerda jumped high for joy, and played till the sun went down\nbehind the high cherry trees; then she was put into a lovely bed, with\nred silk pillows stuffed with blue violets, and she slept there, and\ndreamed as gloriously as a queen on her wedding day.\n\nNext day she played again with the flowers in the warm sunshine; and\nthus many days went by. Gerda knew every flower; but, many as there were\nof them, it still seemed to her as if one were wanting, but which one\nshe did not know. One day she sat looking at the old lady's hat with the\npainted flowers, and the prettiest of them all was a rose. The old lady\nhad forgotten to efface it from her hat when she caused the others to\ndisappear. But so it always is when one does not keep one's wits about\none.\n\n\"What, are there no roses here?\" cried Gerda.\n\nAnd she went among the beds, and searched and searched, but there was\nnot one to be found. Then she sat down and wept; her tears fell just\nupon a spot where a rosebush lay buried, and when the warm tears\nmoistened the earth, the tree at once sprouted up as blooming as when it\nhad sunk; and Gerda embraced it, kissed the roses, and thought of the\nbeautiful roses at home, and also of little Kay.\n\n\"Oh, how I have been detained!\" said the little girl. \"I wanted to seek\nfor little Kay! Do you not know where he is?\" she asked the roses. \"Do\nyou think he is dead?\"\n\n\"He is not dead,\" the roses answered. \"We have been in the ground. All\nthe dead people are there, but Kay is not there.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said little Gerda, and she went to the other flowers,\nlooked into their cups, and asked, \"Do you know where little Kay is?\"\n\nBut every flower stood in the sun thinking only of her own story, or\nfancy tale. Gerda heard many, many, of them; but not one knew anything\nof Kay.\n\nAnd what did the Tiger Lily say?\n\n\"Do you hear the drum, 'Rub-dub'? There are only two notes, always 'rub-\ndub'! Hear the mourning song of the women; hear the call of the priests.\nThe Hindoo widow stands in her long red mantle on the funeral pile; the\nflames rise up around her and her dead husband; but the Hindoo woman is\nthinking of the living one here in the circle, of him whose eyes burn\nhotter than flames, whose fiery glances have burned into her soul more\nardently than the flames themselves, which are soon to burn her body to\nashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pile?\"\n\n\"I don't understand that at all!\" said little Gerda.\n\n\"That's my story,\" said the Lily.\n\nWhat says the Convolvulus?\n\n\"Over the narrow road looms an old knightly castle; thickly the ivy\ngrows over the crumbling red walls, leaf by leaf up to the balcony,\nwhere stands a beautiful girl; she bends over the balustrade and glances\nup the road. No rose on its branch is fresher than she; no apple blossom\nwafted onward by the wind floats more lightly along. How her costly\nsilks rustle! 'Comes he not yet?'\"\n\n\"Is it Kay whom you mean?\" asked little Gerda.\n\n\"I'm only speaking of a story--my dream,\" replied the Convolvulus.\n\nWhat said the little Snowdrop?\n\n\"Between the trees a long board hangs by ropes; that is a swing. Two\npretty little girls, with clothes white as snow and long green silk\nribbons on their hats, are sitting upon it, swinging. Their brother, who\nis greater than they, stands in the swing, and has slung his arm round\nthe rope to hold himself, for in one hand he has a little saucer, and in\nthe other a clay pipe. He is blowing bubbles. The swing flies, and the\nbubbles rise with beautiful, changing colors; the last still hangs from\nthe pipe bowl, swaying in the wind. The swing flies on; the little black\ndog, light as the bubbles, stands up on his hind legs, and wants to be\ntaken into the swing: it flies on, and the dog falls, barks, and grows\nangry, for he is teased, and the bubble bursts. A swinging board and a\nbursting bubble--that is my song.\"\n\n\"It may be very pretty, what you're telling, but you speak it so\nmournfully, and you don't mention little Kay at all.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"HE IS BLOWING BUBBLES\"]\n\nWhat do the Hyacinths say?\n\n\"There were three beautiful sisters, transparent and delicate. The dress\nof one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third quite\nwhite; hand in hand they danced by the calm lake in the bright\nmoonlight. They were not elves; they were human beings. It was so sweet\nand fragrant there! The girls disappeared in the forest, and the sweet\nfragrance became stronger: three coffins, with three beautiful maidens\nlying in them, glided from the wood-thicket across the lake; the\nglowworms flew gleaming about them like little hovering lights. Are the\ndancing girls sleeping, or are they dead? The flower scent says they are\ndead, and the evening bell tolls their knell.\"\n\n\"You make me quite sorrowful,\" said little Gerda. \"You scent so\nstrongly, I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Ah! is little Kay\nreally dead? The Roses have been down in the earth, and they say he is\nnot.\"\n\n\"Kling! klang!\" tolled the Hyacinth bells. \"We are not tolling for\nlittle Kay--we don't know him; we only sing our song, the only one we\nknow.\"\n\nAnd Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming forth from the green leaves.\n\n\"You are a little bright sun,\" said Gerda. \"Tell me, if you know, where\nI may find my companion.\"\n\nAnd the Buttercup shone so gaily, and looked back at Gerda. What song\nmight the Buttercup sing? It was not about Kay.\n\n\"In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm on the first day of\nspring. The sunbeams glided down the white wall of the neighboring\nhouse; close by grew the first yellow flower, glancing like gold in the\nbright sun's ray. The old grandmother sat out of doors in her chair; her\ngranddaughter, a poor, handsome maid-servant, was coming home for a\nshort visit. She kissed her grandmother. There was gold, heart's gold,\nin that blessed kiss--gold in the mouth, gold in the south, gold in the\nmorning hour. See, that's my little story,\" said the Buttercup.\n\n\"My poor old grandmother!\" sighed Gerda. \"Yes, she is surely longing for\nme and grieving for me, just as she did for little Kay. But I shall soon\ngo home and take Kay with me. There is no use of my asking the flowers;\nthey know only their own song, and give me no information.\" And then she\ntied her little frock round her, that she might run the faster; but the\nJonquil struck against her leg as she sprang over it, and she stopped to\nlook at the tall yellow flower, and asked, \"Do you, perhaps, know\nanything of little Kay?\"\n\nAnd she bent quite down to the flower, and what did it say?\n\n\"I can see myself! I can see myself!\" said the Jonquil. \"Oh! oh! how I\nsmell! Up in the little room in the gable stands a little dancing girl.\nShe stands sometimes on one foot, sometimes on both; she seems to tread\non all the world. She's nothing but an ocular delusion: she pours water\nout of a teapot on a bit of stuff--it is her bodice. 'Cleanliness is a\nfine thing,' she says; her white frock hangs on a hook; it has been\nwashed in the teapot too, and dried on the roof. She puts it on and ties\nher saffron handkerchief round her neck, and the dress looks all the\nwhiter. Point your toes! look how she seems to stand on a stalk. I can\nsee myself! I can see myself!\"\n\n\"I don't care at all about that,\" said Gerda. \"You need not tell me\nthat.\"\n\nAnd then she ran to the end of the garden. The door was locked, but she\npressed against the rusty lock, and it broke off, the door sprang open,\nand little Gerda ran with naked feet out into the wide world. She looked\nback three times, but no one was there to pursue her. At last she could\nrun no longer, and seated herself on a great stone; and when she looked\nround the summer was over--it was late in autumn. One could not notice\nthat in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and where\nthe flowers of every season always bloomed.\n\n\"Alas! how I have loitered!\" said little Gerda. \"Autumn has come. I may\nnot rest again.\"\n\nAnd she rose up to go on. Oh! how sore and tired her little feet were.\nAll around it looked cold and bleak; the long willow leaves were quite\nyellow, and the dew fell down like water; one leaf after another\ndropped; only the sloe-thorn still bore fruit, but the sloes were sour,\nand set the teeth on edge. Oh! how gray and gloomy it looked--the wide\nworld!\n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH STORY\n\nTHE PRINCE WHO MIGHT HAVE BEEN KAY\n\n\nGerda was compelled to rest again; then there came hopping across the\nsnow, just opposite the spot where she was sitting, a great Crow. This\nCrow stopped a long time to look at her, nodding its head, and then it\nsaid, \"Krah! krah! Good day! good day!\" It could not pronounce better,\nbut it felt friendly toward the little girl, and asked where she was\ngoing all alone in the wide world. The word \"alone\" Gerda understood\nvery well, and felt how much it expressed; and she told the Crow the\nstory of her whole life and fortunes, and asked if it had not seen Kay.\n\n[Illustration: THE CROW STOPPED TO LOOK]\n\nAnd the Crow nodded very gravely, and said:\n\n\"That may be! that may be!\"\n\n\"What? do you think so?\" cried the little girl, and nearly pressed the\nCrow to death, she kissed it so.\n\n\"Gently, gently!\" said the Crow. \"I think I know. I believe it may be\nlittle Kay; but he has certainly forgotten you, with the princess.\"\n\n\"Does he live with a princess?\" asked Gerda.\n\n\"Yes; listen,\" said the Crow. \"But it's so difficult for me to speak\nyour language. If you know the Crow's language, I can tell it much\nbetter.\"\n\n\"No, I never learned it,\" said Gerda; \"but my grandmother understood it,\nand could speak the language, too. I only wish I had learned it.\"\n\n\"That doesn't matter,\" said the Crow. \"But it will go badly.\"\n\nAnd then the Crow told what it knew.\n\n\"In the country in which we now are lives a princess who is quite\nwonderfully clever; but then she has read all the newspapers in the\nworld, and has forgotten them again, she is so clever. Lately she was\nsitting on the throne--and that's not so pleasant as is generally\nsupposed--and she began to sing a song, and it was just this: 'Why\nshould I not marry now?' You see, there was something in that,\" said the\nCrow. \"And so she wanted to marry, but she wished for a husband who\ncould answer when he was spoken to, not one who only stood and looked\nhandsome, for that was wearisome. And so she had all her maids of honor\nsummoned, and when they heard her intention they were very glad. 'I like\nthat,' said they; 'I thought the very same thing the other day.' You may\nbe sure that every word I am telling you is true,\" added the Crow. \"I\nhave a tame sweetheart who goes about freely in the castle, and she told\nme everything.\"\n\nOf course the sweetheart was a crow, for one crow always finds out\nanother, and birds of a feather flock together.\n\n\"Newspapers were published directly, with a border of hearts and the\nprincess's initials. One could read in them that every young man who was\ngood-looking might come to the castle and speak with the princess, and\nhim who spoke so that one could hear he was at home there, and who spoke\nbest, the princess, would choose for her husband. Yes, yes,\" said the\nCrow, \"you may believe me. It's as true as that I sit here. Young men\ncame flocking in; there was a great crowding and much running to and\nfro, but no one succeeded the first or second day. They could all speak\nwell when they were out in the streets, but when they entered at the\npalace gates, and saw the guards standing in their silver lace, and went\nup the staircase, and saw the lackeys in their golden liveries, and the\ngreat lighted halls, they became confused. And when they stood before\nthe throne itself, on which the princess sat, they could do nothing but\nrepeat the last word she had spoken, and she did not care to hear her\nown words again. It was just as if the people in there had taken some\nnarcotic and fallen asleep till they got into the street again, for not\ntill then were they able to speak. There stood a whole row of them, from\nthe town gate to the palace gate. I went out myself to see it,\" said the\nCrow. \"They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace they did not\nreceive so much as a glass of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest had\nbrought bread and butter with them, but they would not share with their\nneighbors, for they thought, 'Let him look hungry, and the princess\nwon't have him.'\"\n\n\"But Kay, little Kay?\" asked Gerda. \"When did he come? Was he among the\ncrowd?\"\n\n\"Wait! wait! We're just coming to him. It was on the third day that\nthere came a little personage, without horse or carriage, walking quite\nmerrily up to the castle. His eyes sparkled like yours; he had fine long\nhair, but his clothes were shabby.\"\n\n\"That was Kay!\" cried Gerda, rejoicing. \"Oh, then, I have found him!\"\nAnd she clapped her hands.\n\n\"He had a little knapsack on his back,\" observed the Crow.\n\n\"No, that must certainly have been his sledge,\" said Gerda, \"for he went\naway with a sledge.\"\n\n\"That may well be,\" said the Crow, \"for I did not look at it very\nclosely. But this much I know from my tame sweetheart, that when he\npassed under the palace gate and saw the life guards in silver, and\nmounted the staircase and saw the lackeys in gold, he was not in the\nleast embarrassed. He nodded, and said to them, 'It must be tedious work\nstanding on the stairs--I'd rather go in.' The halls shone full of\nlight; privy councilors and Excellencies walked about with bare feet,\nand carried golden vessels; any one might have become solemn; and his\nboots creaked most noisily, but he was not embarrassed.\"\n\n\"That is certainly Kay!\" cried Gerda. \"He had new boots on; I've heard\nthem creak in grandmother's room.\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly they creaked,\" resumed the Crow. \"And he went boldly in\nto the princess herself, who sat on a pearl that was as big as a\nspinning wheel, and all the maids of honor with their attendants, and\nall the cavaliers with their followers, and the followers of their\nfollowers, who themselves kept a page apiece, were standing round; and\nthe nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. The\nfollowers' followers' pages could hardly be looked at, so proudly did\nthey stand in the doorway!\"\n\n\"That must be terrible!\" faltered little Gerda. \"And yet Kay won the\nprincess?\"\n\n\"If I had not been a crow, I would have married her myself,\nnotwithstanding that I am engaged. They say he spoke as well as I can\nwhen I speak the crows' language; I heard that from my tame sweetheart.\nHe was merry and agreeable; he had not come to marry, only to hear the\nwisdom of the princess; and he approved of her, and she of him.\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly that was Kay!\" said Gerda. \"He was so clever; he could\ndo mental arithmetic up to fractions. Oh! won't you lead me to the\ncastle, too?\"\n\n\"That's easily said,\" replied the Crow. \"But how are we to manage it?\nI'll talk it over with my tame sweetheart: she can probably advise us;\nfor this I must tell you--a little girl like yourself will never get\nleave to go completely in.\"\n\n\"Yes, I shall get leave,\" said Gerda. \"When Kay hears that I'm there\nhe'll come out directly, and bring me in.\"\n\n\"Wait for me yonder at the grating,\" said the Crow; and it wagged its\nhead and flew away.\n\nIt was late in the evening when the Crow came back.\n\n\"Rax! rax!\" it said. \"I'm to greet you kindly from my sweetheart, and\nhere's a little loaf for you. She took it from the kitchen. There's\nplenty of bread there, and you must be hungry. You can't possibly get\ninto the palace, for you are barefooted, and the guards in silver and\nthe lackeys in gold would not allow it. But don't cry; you shall go up.\nMy sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads up to the\nbedroom, and she knows where she can get the key.\"\n\nAnd they went into the garden, into the great avenue, where one leaf was\nfalling down after another; and when the lights were extinguished in the\npalace, one after the other, the Crow led Gerda to a back door, which\nstood ajar.\n\nOh, how Gerda's heart beat with fear and longing! It was just as if she\nhad been going to do something wicked; and yet she only wanted to know\nwhether it was little Kay. Yes, it must be he. She thought so deeply of\nhis clear eyes and his long hair; she could fancy she saw how he smiled,\nas he had smiled at home when they sat among the roses. He would\ncertainly be glad to see her; to hear what a long distance she had come\nfor his sake; to know how sorry they had all been at home when he did\nnot come back. Oh, what a fear and what a joy that was!\n\nNow they were on the staircase. A little lamp was burning upon a\ncupboard, and in the middle of the floor stood the tame Crow, turning\nher head on every side and looking at Gerda, who courtesied as her\ngrandmother had taught her to do.\n\n\"My betrothed has spoken to me very favorably of you, my little lady,\"\nsaid the tame Crow. \"Your history, as it may be called, is very moving.\nWill you take the lamp? then I will precede you. We will go the straight\nway, and then we shall meet nobody.\"\n\n\"I feel as if some one were coming after us,\" said Gerda, as something\nrushed by her. It seemed like a shadow on the wall; horses with flying\nmanes and thin legs, hunters, and ladies and gentlemen on horseback.\n\n\"These are only dreams,\" said the Crow; \"they are coming to carry the\nhigh masters' thoughts out hunting. That's all the better, for you may\nlook at them the more closely, in bed. But I hope, when you are taken\ninto favor and get promotion, you will show a grateful heart.\"\n\n\"Of that we may be sure!\" observed the Crow from the wood.\n\nNow they came into the first hall; it was hung with rose-colored satin,\nand artificial flowers were worked on the walls. And here the dreams\nagain came flitting by them, but they moved so quickly that Gerda could\nnot see the high-born lords and ladies. Each hall was more splendid than\nthe last; yes, one could almost become bewildered! Now they were in the\nbedchamber. Here the ceiling was like a great palm tree with leaves of\nglass, of costly glass, and in the middle of the floor two beds hung on\na thick stalk of gold, and each of them looked like a lily. One of them\nwas white, and in that lay the princess; the other was red, and in that\nGerda was to seek little Kay. She bent one of the red leaves aside, and\nthen she saw a little brown neck. Oh, that was Kay! She called out his\nname quite loud, and held the lamp toward him. The dreams rushed into\nthe room again on horseback--he awoke, turned his head, and--it was not\nlittle Kay!\n\nThe prince was only like him in the neck, but he was young and good-\nlooking; and the princess looked up, blinking, from the white lily, and\nasked who was there. Then little Gerda wept, and told her history, and\nall that the Crows had done for her.\n\n\"You poor child!\" said the prince and princess.\n\nAnd they praised the Crows, and said that they were not angry with them\nat all, but the Crows were not to do it again. However, they should be\nrewarded.\n\n\"Will you fly out free,\" asked the princess, \"or will you have fixed\npositions as court Crows, with the right to everything that is left in\nthe kitchen?\"\n\nAnd the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed positions, for they\nthought of their old age, and said, \"It is so good to have some\nprovisions for one's old days,\" as they called them.\n\nAnd the prince got up out of his bed, and let Gerda sleep in it, and he\ncould not do more than that. She folded her little hands and thought,\n\"How good men and animals are!\" and then she shut her eyes and went\nquietly to sleep. All the dreams came flying in again, looking like\nangels, and they drew a little sledge, on which Kay sat nodding; but all\nthis was only a dream, and therefore it was gone again as soon as she\nawoke.\n\nThe next day she was clothed from head to foot in velvet; and an offer\nwas made to her that she should stay in the castle and enjoy pleasant\ntimes, but she only begged for a little carriage, with a horse to draw\nit, and a pair of little boots; then she would drive out into the world\nand seek for Kay.\n\nAnd she received not only boots, but a muff likewise, and was neatly\ndressed; and when she was ready to depart, a coach, made of pure gold,\nstopped before the door. Upon it shone like a star the coat of arms of\nthe prince and princess; coachmen, footmen, and outriders--for there\nwere outriders, too--sat on horseback, with gold crowns on their heads.\nThe prince and princess themselves helped her into the carriage, and\nwished her all good fortune. The forest Crow, who was now married,\naccompanied her the first three miles; he sat by Gerda's side, for he\ncould not bear riding backward; the other Crow stood in the doorway,\nflapping her wings; she did not go with them, for she suffered from\nheadache that had come on since she had obtained a fixed position and\nwas allowed to eat too much. The coach was lined with sugar biscuits,\nand in the seat there were gingerbread, nuts, and fruit.\n\n\"Farewell, farewell!\" cried the prince and princess; and little Gerda\nwept, and the Crow wept.\n\nSo they went on for the first three miles, and then the Crow said good-\nbye, and that was the heaviest parting of all. The Crow flew up on a\ntree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the coach, which\nglittered like the bright sunshine.\n\n\n\nTHE FIFTH STORY\n\nTHE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL\n\n\nThey drove on through the thick forest, but the coach gleamed like a\ntorch. It dazzled the robbers' eyes, and they could not bear it.\n\n\"That is gold! that is gold!\" cried they; and they rushed forward,\nseized the horses, killed the postilions, the coachmen, and the footmen,\nand then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage.\n\n\"She is fat--she is pretty--she is fed with nut kernels!\" said the old\nrobber woman, who had a very long matted beard and shaggy eyebrows that\nhung down over her eyes. \"She's as good as a little pet lamb; how I\nshall relish her!\"\n\nAnd she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed in a horrible way.\n\n\"Oh!\" screamed the old woman at the same moment: for her own daughter,\nwho hung at her back, bit her ear in a very naughty and spiteful manner.\n\"You ugly brat!\" screamed the old woman; and she had not time to kill\nGerda.\n\n\"She shall play with me!\" said the little robber girl. \"She shall give\nme her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed!\"\n\nAnd then the girl gave another bite, so that the woman jumped high up,\nand turned right round, and all the robbers laughed, and said:\n\n\"Look how she dances with her calf.\"\n\n\"I want to go into the carriage,\" said the little robber girl,\n\nAnd she would have her own way, for she was spoiled and very obstinate;\nand she and Gerda sat in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone\ndeep into the forest. The little robber girl was as big as Gerda, but\nstronger and more broad-shouldered, and she had a brown skin; her eyes\nwere quite black, and they looked almost mournful. She clasped little\nGerda round the waist, and said:\n\n\"They shall not kill you as long as I am not angry with you. I suppose\nyou are a princess?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Gerda. And she told all that had happened to her, and how\nfond she was of little Kay.\n\nThe robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded slightly, and said:\n\n\"They shall not kill you, even if I do get angry with you, for then I\nwill do it myself.\"\n\nAnd then she dried Gerda's eyes, and put her two hands into the\nbeautiful muff that was so soft and warm.\n\nNow the coach stopped, and they were in the courtyard of a robber\ncastle. It had burst from the top to the ground; ravens and crows flew\nout of the great holes, and big bulldogs--each of which looked as if he\ncould devour a man--jumped high up, but did not bark, for that was\nforbidden.\n\nIn the great, old, smoky hall, a bright fire burned upon the stone\nfloor; the smoke passed along under the ceiling, and had to seek an exit\nfor itself. A great cauldron of soup was boiling and hares and rabbits\nwere roasting on the spit.\n\n\"You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little animals,\" said the\nrobber girl.\n\nThey had something to eat and drink, and then went to a corner, where\nstraw and carpets were spread out. Above these sat on laths and perches\nmore than a hundred pigeons, and all seemed asleep, but they turned a\nlittle when the two little girls came.\n\n\"All these belong to me,\" said the little robber girl; and she quickly\nseized one of the nearest, held it by the feet, and shook it so that it\nflapped its wings. \"Kiss it!\" she cried, and beat it in Gerda's face.\n\"There sit the wood rascals,\" she continued, pointing to a number of\nlaths that had been nailed in front of a hole in the wall, \"Those are\nwood rascals, those two; they fly away directly if one does not keep\nthem well locked up. And here's my old sweetheart 'Ba.'\" Arid she pulled\nout by the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up, and had a polished copper\nring round its neck. \"We're obliged to keep him tight, too, or he'd run\naway from us. Every evening I tickle his neck with a sharp knife, and\nhe's badly frightened at that.\"\n\nAnd the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft in the wall, and let\nit glide over the Reindeer's neck; the poor creature kicked out its\nlegs, and the little robber girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with\nher.\n\n\"Do you keep the knife while you're asleep?\" asked Gerda, and looked at\nit in a frightened way.\n\n\"I always sleep with my knife,\" replied the robber girl. \"One does not\nknow what may happen. But now tell me again what you told me just now\nabout little Kay, and why you came out into the wide world.\"\n\nAnd Gerda told it again from the beginning; and the Wood Pigeons cooed\nabove them in their cage, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber\ngirl put her arm round Gerda's neck, held her knife in the other hand,\nand slept so that one could hear her; but Gerda could not close her eyes\nat all--she did not know whether she was to live or die.\n\nThe robbers sat round the fire, sang and drank, and the old robber woman\ntumbled about. It was quite terrible for a little girl to behold. Then\nthe Wood Pigeons said: \"Coo! coo! we have seen little Kay. A white owl\nwas carrying his sledge; he sat in the Snow Queen's carriage, which\ndrove close by the forest as we lay in our nests. She blew upon us young\npigeons, and all died except us two. Coo! coo!\"\n\n\"What are you saying there?\" asked Gerda. \"Whither was the Snow Queen\ntraveling? Do you know anything about it?\"\n\n\"She was probably journeying to Lapland, for there they have always ice\nand snow. Ask the Reindeer that is tied to the cord.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE REINDEER RAN AS FAST AS IT COULD GO]\n\n\"There is ice and snow yonder, and it is glorious and fine,\" said the\nReindeer. \"There one may run about free in great glittering plains.\nThere the Snow Queen has her summer tent; but her strong castle is up\ntoward the North Pole, on the island that's called Spitzbergen.\"\n\n\"O Kay, little Kay!\" cried Gerda.\n\n\"You must lie still,\" exclaimed the robber girl, \"or I shall thrust my\nknife into your body.\"\n\nIn the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood Pigeons had said, and\nthe robber girl looked quite serious, and nodded her head and said,\n\"That's all the same, that's all the same!\"\n\n\"Do you know where Lapland is?\" she asked the Reindeer.\n\n\"Who should know better than I?\" the creature replied, and its eyes\nsparkled in its head. \"I was born and bred there; I ran about there in\nthe snow fields.\"\n\n\"Listen!\" said the robber girl to Gerda. \"You see all our men have gone\naway. Only mother is here still, and she'll stay; but toward noon she\ndrinks out of the big bottle, and then she sleeps for a little while;\nthen I'll do something for you.\"\n\nThen she sprang out of bed, and clasped her mother round the neck and\npulled her beard, crying:\n\n\"Good morning, my own old nanny goat.\" And her mother filliped her nose\ntill it was red and blue; and it was all done for pure love.\n\nWhen the mother had drunk out of her bottle and had gone to sleep upon\nit, the robber girl went to the Reindeer, and said:\n\n\"I should like very much to tickle you a few times more with the knife,\nfor you are very funny then; but it's all the same. I'll loosen your\ncord and help you out, so that you may run to Lapland; but you must use\nyour legs well, and carry this little girl to the palace of the Snow\nQueen, where her playfellow is. You've heard what she told me, for she\nspoke loud enough, and you were listening.\"\n\nThe Reindeer sprang up high for joy. The robber girl lifted little Gerda\non its back, and had the forethought to tie her fast, and even to give\nher her own little cushion as a saddle.\n\n\"There are your fur boots for you,\" she said, \"for it's growing cold;\nbut I shall keep the muff, for that's so very pretty. Still, you shall\nnot be cold, for all that; here's my mother's big muffles--they'll just\nreach up to your elbows. Now you look just like my ugly mother.\"\n\nAnd Gerda wept for joy.\n\n\"I can't bear to see you whimper,\" said the little robber girl. \"No, you\njust ought to look very glad. And here are two loaves and a ham for you;\nnow you won't be hungry.\"\n\nThese were tied on the Reindeer's back. The little robber girl opened\nthe door, coaxed in all the big dogs, and then cut the rope with her\nsharp knife, and said to the Reindeer:\n\n\"Now run, but take good care of the little girl.\"\n\nAnd Gerda stretched out her hands with the big muffles toward the little\nrobber girl, and said, \"Farewell.\"\n\nAnd the Reindeer ran over stock and stone, away through the great\nforest, over marshes and steppes, as fast as it could go. The wolves\nhowled, and the ravens croaked. \"Hiss! hiss!\" sounded through the air.\nIt seemed as if the sky were flashing fire.\n\n\"Those are my old Northern Lights,\" said the Reindeer. \"Look how they\nglow!\" And then it ran on faster than ever, day and night.\n\n\n\nTHE SIXTH STORY\n\nTHE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN\n\n\nAt a little hut they stopped. It was very humble; the roof sloped down\nalmost to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had to\ncreep on their stomachs when they wanted to go in or out. No one was in\nthe house but an old Lapland woman, cooking fish by the light of a\ntrain-oil lamp; and the Reindeer told Gerda's whole history, but it\nrelated its own first, for this seemed to the Reindeer the more\nimportant of the two. Gerda was so exhausted by the cold that she could\nnot speak.\n\n\"Oh, you poor things,\" said the Lapland woman; \"you've a long way to run\nyet! You must go more than a hundred miles into Finmark, for the Snow\nQueen is there, staying in the country, and burning Bengal Lights every\nevening. I'll write a few words on a dried cod, for I have no paper, and\nI'll give you that as a letter to the Finland woman; she can give you\nbetter information than I.\"\n\nAnd when Gerda had been warmed and refreshed with food and drink, the\nLapland woman wrote a few words on a dried codfish, and telling Gerda to\ntake care of these, tied her again on the Reindeer, and the Reindeer\nsprang away. Flash! flash! The whole night long the most beautiful blue\nNorthern Lights were burning.\n\nAnd then they got to Finmark, and knocked at the chimney of the Finland\nwoman; for she had not even a hut.\n\nThere was such a heat in the chimney that the woman herself went about\nalmost naked. She at once loosened little Gerda's dress and took off the\nchild's muffles and boots; otherwise it would have been too hot for her\nto bear. Then she laid a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, and read\nwhat was written on the codfish; she read it three times, and when she\nknew it by heart, she popped the fish into the soup-cauldron, for it was\neatable, and she never wasted anything.\n\nNow the Reindeer first told his own story, and then little Gerda's; and\nthe Finland woman blinked with her clever eyes, but said nothing.\n\n\"You are very clever,\" said the Reindeer. \"I know you can tie all the\nwinds of the world together with a bit of twine; if the seaman unties\none knot, he has a good wind; if he loosens the second, it blows hard;\nbut if he unties the third and fourth, there comes such a tempest that\nthe forests are thrown down. Won't you give the little girl a draught,\nso that she may get twelve men's power, and overcome the Snow Queen?\"\n\n\"Twelve men's power!\" repeated the Finland woman. \"Great use that would\nbe!\"\n\nAnd she went to a bed and brought out a great rolled-up fur, and\nunrolled it; wonderful characters were written upon it, and the Finland\nwoman read until the perspiration ran down her forehead.\n\nBut the Reindeer again begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked\nat the Finland woman with such beseeching eyes, full of tears, that she\nbegan to blink again with her own, and drew the Reindeer into a corner,\nand whispered to him, while she laid fresh ice upon his head.\n\n\"Little Kay is certainly at the Snow Queen's, and finds everything there\nto his taste and thinks it is the best place in the world; but that is\nbecause he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and a little fragment in\nhis heart; but these must be got out, or he will never be a human being\nagain, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him.\"\n\n\"But cannot you give something to little Gerda, so as to give her power\nover all this?\"\n\n\"I can give her no greater power than she possesses already; don't you\nsee how great that is? Don't you see how men and animals are obliged to\nserve her, and how she gets on so well in the world, with her naked\nfeet? She cannot receive her power from us; it consists in this--that\nshe is a dear, innocent child. If she herself cannot penetrate to the\nSnow Queen and get the glass out of little Kay, we can be of no use! Two\nmiles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins; you can carry the little\ngirl thither; set her down by the great bush that stands with its red\nberries in the snow. Don't stand gossiping, but make haste, and get back\nhere!\"\n\nAnd then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the Reindeer, which\nran as fast as it could.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't my boots! I haven't my muffles!\" cried Gerda.\n\nShe soon noticed that in the cutting cold; but the Reindeer dared not\nstop. It ran till it came to the bush with the red berries; there it set\nGerda down, and kissed her on the mouth, and great big tears ran down\nthe creature's cheeks; and then it ran back, as fast as it could. There\nstood poor Gerda without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of the\nterrible, cold Finmark.\n\nShe ran forward as fast as possible; then came a whole regiment of\nsnowflakes; but they did not fall down from the sky, for that was quite\nbright, and shone with the Northern Lights: the snowflakes ran along the\nground, and the nearer they came, the larger they grew. Gerda still\nremembered how large and beautiful the snowflakes had appeared when she\nhad looked at them through the burning glass. But here they were\ncertainly far larger and much more terrible--they were alive. They were\nadvance posts of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes. A few\nlooked like ugly great porcupines; others like knots formed of snakes,\nwhich stretched forth their heads; and others like little fat bears,\nwhose hair stood up on end; all were brilliantly white, all were living\nsnowflakes.\n\nThen little Gerda said her prayer; and the cold was so great that she\ncould see her own breath, which went forth out of her mouth like smoke.\nThe breath became thicker and thicker, and formed itself into little\nangels, who grew and grew whenever they touched the earth; and all had\nhelmets on their heads, and shields and spears in their hands. Their\nnumber increased, and when Gerda had finished her prayer a whole legion\nstood round about her, and struck with their spears at the terrible\nsnowflakes, so that these were shattered into a thousand pieces; and\nlittle Gerda could go forward afresh, with good courage. The angels\nstroked her hands and feet, and then she felt less how cold it was, and\nhastened on to the Snow Queen's palace.\n\nBut now we must see what Kay was doing. He was not thinking of little\nGerda, and least of all that she was standing in front of the palace.\n\n[Illustration: THE SNOW QUEEN'S CASTLE]\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTH STORY\n\nOF THE SNOW QUEEN'S CASTLE, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST\n\n\nThe walls of the palace were formed of the drifting snow, and the\nwindows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred\nhalls, all blown together by the snow; the greatest of these extended\nfor several miles; the strong Northern Lights illuminated them all, and\nhow great and empty, how icily cold and shining they all were! Never was\nmerriment there--not even a little bear's ball, at which the storm could\nhave played the music, while the bears walked about on their hind legs\nand showed off their pretty manners; never any little sport of mouth-\nslapping or bars-touch; never any little coffee gossip among the young\nlady white foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow\nQueen. The Northern Lights flamed so brightly that one could count them\nwhere they stood highest and lowest. In the midst of this immense empty\nsnow hall was a frozen lake, which had burst into a thousand pieces; but\neach piece was like the rest, so that it was a perfect work of art; and\nin the middle of the lake sat the Snow Queen, when she was at home, and\nthen she said that she sat in the Mirror of Reason, and that this was\nthe only one, and the best in the world.\n\nLittle Kay was quite blue with cold--indeed, almost black! but he did\nnot notice it, for she had kissed the cold shudderings away from him,\nand his heart was like a lump of ice. He dragged a few sharp, flat\npieces of ice to and fro, joining them together in all kinds of ways,\nfor he wanted to achieve something with them. It was just like when we\nhave little tablets of wood, and lay them together to form figures--what\nwe call the Chinese game. Kay also went and laid figures, and, indeed,\nvery artistic ones. That was the icy game of Reason. In his eyes these\nfigures were very remarkable and of the highest importance; that was\nbecause of the fragment of glass sticking in his eye. He laid out the\nfigures so that they formed a word--but he could never manage to lay\ndown the word as he wished to have it--the word eternity. The Snow Queen\nhad said:\n\n\"If you can find out this figure, you shall be your own master, and I\nwill give you the whole world and a pair of new skates.\"\n\nBut he could not.\n\n\"Now I'll hasten away to the warm lands,\" said the Snow Queen. \"I will\ngo and look into the black spots.\" These were the volcanoes, Etna and\nVesuvius, as they are called. \"I shall whiten them a little! That's\nnecessary; that will do the grapes and lemons good.\"\n\nAnd the Snow Queen flew away, and Kay sat quite alone in the great icy\nhall that was miles in extent, and looked at his pieces of ice, and\nthought so deeply that cracks were heard inside him; one would have\nthought that he was frozen.\n\nThen it happened that little Gerda stepped through the great gate into\nthe wide hall. Here reigned cutting winds, but she prayed a prayer, and\nthe winds lay down as if they would have gone to sleep; and she stepped\ninto the great, empty, cold halls, and beheld Kay; she knew him, and\nflew to him, and embraced him, and held him fast, and called out:\n\n\"Kay, dear little Kay! I have found you!\"\n\nBut he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little Gerda wept hot\ntears, that fell upon his breast; they penetrated into his heart, they\nthawed the lump of ice, and consumed the little piece of glass in it. He\nlooked at her, and she sang:\n\n\"The roses will fade and pass away,\n But we the Christ-child shall see one day.\"\n\nThen Kay burst into tears; he wept so that the splinter of glass came\nout of his eye. Now he recognized her, and cried rejoicingly:\n\n\"Gerda, dear Gerda! where have you been all this time? And where have I\nbeen?\" And he looked all around him. \"How cold it is here! How large and\nvoid!\"\n\nAnd he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so\nglorious that even the pieces of ice round about danced for joy; and\nwhen they were tired and lay down, they formed themselves into just the\nletters of which the Snow Queen had said that if he found them out he\nshould be his own master, and she would give him the whole world and a\nnew pair of skates.\n\nAnd Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming; she kissed his\neyes, and they shone like her own; she kissed his hands and feet, and he\nthen became well and merry. The Snow Queen might now come home; his word\nof release stood written in shining characters of ice.\n\nAnd they took one another by the hand, and wandered forth from the great\npalace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother and of the roses on the\nroof; and where they went the winds rested and the sun burst forth; and\nwhen they came to the bush with the red berries, the Reindeer was\nstanding there waiting; it had brought another young Reindeer, which\ngave the children warm milk, and kissed them on the mouth. Then they\ncarried Kay and Gerda, first to the Finnish woman, where they warmed\nthemselves thoroughly in the hot room, and received instructions for\ntheir journey home; and then to the Lapland woman, who had made them new\nclothes and put their sledge in order.\n\nThe Reindeer and the young one sprang at their side, and followed them\nas far as the boundary of the country. There the first green sprouted\nforth, and there they took leave of the two Reindeer and the Lapland\nwoman. \"Farewell!\" said all. And the first little birds began to\ntwitter, the forest was decked with green buds, and out of it, on a\nbeautiful horse (which Gerda knew, for it was the same that had drawn\nher golden coach) a young girl came riding, with a shining red cap on\nher head and a pair of pistols in the holsters. This was the little\nrobber girl, who had grown tired of staying at home, and wished to go\nfirst to the north, and if that did not suit her, to some other region.\nShe knew Gerda at once, and Gerda knew her too; and it was a right merry\nmeeting.\n\n\"You are a fine fellow to gad about!\" she said to little Kay. \"I should\nlike to know if you deserve that one should run to the end of the world\nafter you?\"\n\nBut Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the prince and princess.\n\n\"They've gone to foreign countries,\" said the robber girl.\n\n\"But the Crow?\" said Gerda.\n\n\"The Crow is dead,\" answered the other. \"The tame one has become a\nwidow, and goes about with an end of black worsted thread round her leg.\nShe complains most lamentably, but it's all talk. But now tell me how\nyou have fared, and how you caught him.\"\n\nAnd Gerda and Kay told their story.\n\n\"Snipp-snapp-snurre-purre-basellurre!\" said the robber girl.\n\nAnd she took them both by the hand, and promised that if she ever came\nthrough their town, she would come up and pay them a visit. And then she\nrode away into the wide world.\n\nBut Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, and as they went it became\nbeautiful spring, with green and with flowers. The church bells sounded,\nand they recognized the high steeples and the great town; it was the one\nin which they lived, and they went to the grandmother's door, and up the\nstairs, and into the room, where everything remained in its usual place.\nThe big clock was going \"Tick! tack!\" and the hands were turning; but as\nthey went through the rooms they noticed that they had become grown-up\npeople. The roses out on the roof-gutter were blooming in at the open\nwindow, and there stood the children's chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat\nupon the chairs, and held each other by the hand. They had forgotten the\ncold, empty splendor at the Snow Queen's like a heavy dream. The\ngrandmother was sitting in God's bright sunshine, and read aloud out of\nthe Bible, \"Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise\nenter into the kingdom of God.\"\n\nAnd Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and all at once they\nunderstood the old song:\n\n\"The roses will fade and pass away,\n But we the Christ-child shall see one day.\"\n\nThere they both sat, grown up, and yet children--children in heart; and\nit was summer--warm, delightful summer.\n\n\n\nHOW TO REMEMBER THE STORY\n\n\nWhen we read a good long story like The Snow Queen, we enjoy it and\nthink we should like to remember it. If it is really good we ought to\nremember it, not only because of its excellence, but, in the case of an\nold story, because we so often find allusions to it in our other\nreading. The best way to fix a story in mind is to make an outline of\nthe incidents, or plot. Then we can see the whole thing almost at a\nglance, and so remembrance is made easy.\n\nA good outline of The Snow Queen would appear something like this:\n\nI. The Goblin's Mirror. (Enlarges evil; distorts and diminishes good.)\n   1. The Mirror is broken.\n\nII. Kay and Gerda.\n   1. The little rose garden.\n   2. Pieces of the mirror find their way into Kay's eye and heart.\n   3. The Snow Queen.\n     a. Finds Kay.\n     b. Carries him away.\n     c. Makes him forget Gerda.\nIII. Gerda's Search for Kay.\n   1. Carried away by the river.\n   2. Rescued by the old witch.\nIV. In the Flower garden.\n   1. The rose reminds Gerda of Kay.\n   2. Gerda questions the flowers.\n     a. The Tiger Lily.\n     b. The Convolvulus.\n     c. The Snowdrop.\n     d. The Hyacinth.\n     e. The Buttercup.\n     f. The Jonquil.\nV. Gerda Continues Her Search in Autumn.\n   1. Gerda meets the Crow and follows him.\n     a. The princess's castle,\n     b. The prince is not Kay.\n     c. Gerda in rich clothes continues her search in a carriage.\nVI. Gerda meets the Robbers.\n   1. The old woman claims Gerda.\n   2. The robber girl fancies Gerda.\n   3. The Wood Pigeons tell about Kay.\n   4. The Reindeer carries Gerda on her search.\nVII. Gerda's Journey on the Reindeer.\n   1. The Lapland woman,\n     a. Cares for Gerda.\n     b. Sends message on a codfish.\n   2. The Finland woman.\n     a. Cares for Gerda.\n     b. Tells what has happened to Kay.\n     c. Tells what ails Kay and says Kay may be saved by the power of\n        innocent girlhood.\nVIII. Kay's Rescue.\n   1. At the Snow Queen's palace.\n     a. Kay cannot write eternity.\n     b. The Snow Queen leaves for Italy.\n     c. Gerda finds Kay.\n     d. Her tears melt his icy heart.\n     e. Her song brings tears that clear his eyes.\n     f. Kay knows Gerda.\n     g. Pieces of ice spell the word eternity.\nh. Gerda's kisses restore Kay to warmth and health.\n   2. The return journey.\n     a. The reindeer.\n     b. The Finland woman.\n     c. The Lapland woman.\n     d. The prince and princess.\n     e. The robber girl.\n   3. Gerda and Kay at home.\n\n\n\nA GOOD LESSON TO LEARN\n\n\nThere is little use in reading if we do not get from it something that\nmakes us wiser, better or nobler, or that gives us an inspiration to\nwork harder and make more of ourselves. I think the author of The Snow\nQueen meant that we should get something more than a half-hour's\nenjoyment out of his beautiful story.\n\nHe makes us like little Kay and his sweet friend Gerda, and then saddens\nus with Kay's misfortunes. We do not like to see him become\ncrossgrained, mean in disposition and stony hearted.\n\nThen we learn to admire the faithfulness and courage and bravery of\nGerda, and follow her to the Snow Queen's palace, afraid every moment\nshe will not find Kay.\n\nWhen she does find him, it is her tears of sympathy that melt his icy\nheart, her sweet faith in the Christ-child that clears his eyes, and her\nlove that brings him back to life.\n\nOf course this is all a fairy story; but children and all the race of\ngrownups, even, may learn that it is only by innocence, sympathy and\nlove that the wickedness in the world can be overcome.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHIMERA\n\nBy Nathaniel Hawthorne\n\n\nOnce, in the old, old times (for all the strange things which I tell you\nabout happened long before anybody can remember), a fountain gushed out\nof a hillside in the marvelous land of Greece. And, for aught I know,\nafter so many thousand years it is still gushing out of the very\nselfsame spot. At any rate, there was the pleasant fountain welling\nfreshly forth and sparkling adown the hillside in the golden sunset when\na handsome young man named Bellerophon drew near its margin. In his hand\nhe held a bridle studded with brilliant gems and adorned with a golden\nbit. Seeing an old man and another of middle age and a little boy near\nthe fountain, and likewise a maiden who was dipping up some of the water\nin a pitcher, he paused and begged that he might refresh himself with a\ndraught.\n\n\"This is very delicious water,\" he said to the maiden as he rinsed and\nfilled her pitcher after drinking out of it. \"Will you be kind enough to\ntell me whether the fountain has any name?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is called the Fountain of Pirene,\" answered the maiden; and\nthen she added, \"My grandmother has told me that this clear fountain was\nonce a beautiful woman; and when her son was killed by the arrows of the\nhuntress Diana, she melted all away into tears. And so the water which\nyou find so cool and sweet is the sorrow of that poor mother's heart!\"\n\n\"I should not have dreamed,\" observed the young stranger, \"that so clear\na wellspring, with its gush and gurgle and its cheery dance out of the\nshade into the sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its bosom. And,\nthis, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden, for telling me its\nname. I have come from a far-away country to find this very spot.\"\n\nA middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow to drink out of the\nspring) stared hard at young Bellerophon and at the handsome bridle\nwhich he carried in his hand.\n\n\"The watercourses must be getting low, friend, in your part of the\nworld,\" remarked he, \"if you come so far only to find the Fountain of\nPirene. But pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridle in\nyour hand; and a very pretty one it is, with that double row of bright\nstones upon it. If the horse was as fine as the bridle, you are much to\nbe pitied for losing him.\"\n\n\"I have lost no horse,\" said Bellerophon with a smile, \"but I happen to\nbe seeking a very famous one, which, as wise people have informed me,\nmust be found hereabouts if anywhere. Do you know whether the winged\nhorse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do?\"\n\nBut then the country fellow laughed.\n\nSome of you, my little friends, have probably heard that this Pegasus\nwas a snow-white steed with beautiful silvery wings, who spent most of\nhis time on the summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild and as swift and\nas buoyant in his flight through the air as any eagle that ever soared\ninto the clouds. There was nothing else like him in the world. He had no\nmate, he had never been backed or bridled by a master, and for many a\nlong year he led a solitary and a happy life.\n\nOh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! Sleeping at night, as\nhe did, on a lofty mountain top, and passing the greater part of the day\nin the air, Pegasus seemed hardly to be a creature of the earth.\nWhenever he was seen up very high above people's heads, with the\nsunshine on his silvery wings, you would have thought that he belonged\nto the sky, and that, skimming a little too low, he had got astray among\nour mists and vapors and was seeking his way back again. It was very\npretty to behold him plunge into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud and\nbe lost in it for a moment or two, and then break forth from the other\nside. Or in a sullen rainstorm, when there was a gray pavement of clouds\nover the whole sky, it would sometimes happen that the winged horse\ndescended right through it, and the glad light of the upper region would\ngleam after him. In another instant, it is true, both Pegasus and the\npleasant light would be gone away together. But any one that was\nfortunate enough to see this wondrous spectacle felt cheerful the whole\nday afterward, and as much longer as the storm lasted.\n\nIn the summer time and in the most beautiful of weather Pegasus often\nalighted on the solid earth, and, closing his silvery wings, would\ngallop over hill and dale for pastime as fleetly as the wind. Oftener\nthan in any other place he had been seen near the Fountain of Pirene,\ndrinking the delicious water or rolling himself upon the soft grass of\nthe margin. Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his food), he\nwould crop a few of the clover-blossoms that happened to be sweetest. To\nthe Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people's great-grandfathers had been\nin the habit of going (as long as they were youthful and retained their\nfaith in winged horses) in hopes of getting a glimpse at the beautiful\nPegasus. But of late years he had been very seldom seen. Indeed, there\nwere many of the country folks dwelling within half an hour's walk of\nthe fountain who had never beheld Pegasus, and did not believe that\nthere was any such creature in existence. The country fellow to whom\nBellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of those incredulous persons.\n\n[Illustration: PEGASUS AT THE FOUNTAIN]\n\nAnd that was the reason why he laughed.\n\n\"Pegasus, indeed!\" cried he, turning up his nose as high as such a flat\nnose could be turned up. \"Pegasus, indeed! A winged horse, truly! Why,\nfriend, are you in your senses? Of what use would wings be to a horse?\nCould he drag the plow so well, think you? To be sure, there might be a\nlittle saving in the expense of shoes, but then how would a man like to\nsee his horse flying out of the stable window?--yes, or whisking him up\nabove the clouds when he only wanted to ride to mill? No, no! I don't\nbelieve in Pegasus. There never was such a ridiculous kind of a horse-\nfowl made!\"\n\n\"I have reason to think otherwise,\" said Bellerophon quietly.\n\nAnd then he turned to an old gray man who was leaning on a staff and\nlistening very attentively with his head stretched forward and one hand\nat his ear, because for the last twenty years he had been getting rather\ndeaf.\n\n\"And what say you, venerable sir?\" inquired he. \"In your younger days, I\nshould imagine, you must frequently have seen the winged steed.\"\n\n\"Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor,\" said the aged man. \"When I\nwas a lad, if I remember rightly, I used to believe there was such a\nhorse, and so did everybody else. But nowadays I hardly know what to\nthink, and very seldom think about the winged horse at all. If I ever\nsaw the creature, it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the\ntruth, I doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I\nwas quite a youth, I remember seeing some hoof-prints round about the\nbrink of the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks, and so\nmight some other horse.\"\n\n\"And have you never seen him, my fair maiden?\" asked Bellerophon of the\ngirl, who stood with the pitcher on her head while this talk went on.\n\"You surely could see Pegasus if anybody can, for your eyes are very\nbright.\"\n\n\"Once I thought I saw him,\" replied the maiden, with a smile and a\nblush. \"It was either Pegasus or a large white bird a very great way up\nin the air. And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain with my\npitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh as that\nwas! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me,\nnevertheless, so that I ran home without filling my pitcher.\"\n\n\"That was truly a pity!\" said Bellerophon.\n\nAnd he turned to the child whom I mentioned at the beginning of the\nstory, and who was gazing at him, as children are apt to gaze at\nstrangers, with his rosy mouth wide open.\n\n\"Well, my little fellow,\" cried Bellerophon, playfully pulling one of\nhis curls, \"I suppose you have often seen the winged horse.\"\n\n\"That I have,\" answered the child very readily. \"I saw him yesterday and\nmany times before.\"\n\n\"You are a fine little man!\" said Bellerophon, drawing the child closer\nto him. \"Come, tell me all about it.\"\n\n\"Why,\" replied the child, \"I often come here to sail little boats in the\nfountain and to gather pretty pebbles out of its basin. And sometimes,\nwhen I look down into the water, I see the image of the winged horse in\nthe picture of the sky that is there. I wish he would come down and take\nme on his back and let me ride him up to the moon. But if I so much as\nstir to look at him, he flies far away, out of sight.\"\n\nAnd Bellerophon put his faith in the child who had seen the image of\nPegasus in the water, and in the maiden who had heard him neigh so\nmelodiously, rather than in the middle-aged clown who believed only in\ncart horses, or in the old man who had forgotten the beautiful things of\nhis youth.\n\nTherefore he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene for a great many days\nafterward. He kept continually on the watch, looking upward at the sky\nor else down into the water, hoping forever that he should see either\nthe reflected image of the winged horse or the marvelous reality. He\nheld the bridle with its bright gems and golden bit always ready in his\nhand. The rustic people who dwelt in the neighborhood and drove their\ncattle to the fountain to drink would often laugh at poor Bellerophon,\nand sometimes take him pretty severely to task. They told him that an\nable-bodied young man like himself ought to have better business than to\nbe wasting his time in such an idle pursuit. They offered to sell him a\nhorse if he wanted one, and when Bellerophon declined the purchase they\ntried to drive a bargain with him for his fine bridle.\n\nEven the country boys thought him so very foolish that they used to have\na great deal of sport about him, and were rude enough not to care a fig\nalthough Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for example,\nwould play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers by way of\nflying, while one of his schoolfellows would scamper after him holding\nforth a twist of bulrushes which was intended to represent Bellerophon's\nornamental bridle. But the gentle child who had seen the picture of\nPegasus in the water comforted the young stranger more than all the\nnaughty boys could torment him. The dear little fellow in his play-hours\noften sat down beside him, and, without speaking a word, would look down\ninto the fountain and up toward the sky with so innocent a faith that\nBellerophon could not help feeling encouraged.\n\nNow, you will perhaps wish to be told why it was that Bellerophon had\nundertaken to catch the winged horse, and we shall find no better\nopportunity to speak about this matter than while he is waiting for\nPegasus to appear.\n\nIf I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon's previous adventures, they\nmight easily grow into a very long story. It will be quite enough to say\nthat in a certain country of Asia a terrible monster called a Chimera\nhad made its appearance, and was doing more mischief than could be\ntalked about between now and sunset. According to the best accounts\nwhich I have been able to obtain, this Chimera was nearly, if not quite,\nthe ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and\nunaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with and the most difficult to\nrun away from, that ever came out of the earth's inside. It had a tail\nlike a boa constrictor, its body was like I do not care what, and it had\nthree separate heads, one of which was a lion's, the second a goat's,\nand the third an abominably great snake's; and a hot blast of fire came\nflaming out of each of its three mouths. Being an earthly monster, I\ndoubt whether it had any wings; but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and\na lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived to make\nabout as much speed as all the three together.\n\nOh, the mischief and mischief and mischief that this naughty creature\ndid! With its flaming breath it could set a forest on fire or burn up a\nfield of grain, or, for that matter, a village with all its fences and\nhouses. It laid waste the whole country round about, and used to eat up\npeople and animals alive, and cook them afterwards in the burning oven\nof its stomach. Mercy on us, little children! I hope neither you nor I\nwill ever happen to meet a Chimera.\n\nWhile the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call it) was doing\nall these horrible things, it so chanced that Bellerophon came to that\npart of the world on a visit to the king. The king's name was Iobates,\nand Lycia was the country which he ruled over. Bellerophon was one of\nthe bravest youths in the world, and desired nothing so much as to do\nsome valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all mankind admire\nand love him. In those days the only way for a young man to distinguish\nhimself was by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his country\nor with wicked giants or with troublesome dragons or with wild beasts,\nwhen he could find nothing more dangerous to encounter. King Iobates,\nperceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposed to him to go\nand fight the Chimera, which everybody else was afraid of, and which,\nunless it should be soon killed, was likely to convert Lycia into a\ndesert. Bellerophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the king that he\nwould either slay this dreaded Chimera or perish in the attempt.\n\nBut, in the first place, as the monster was so prodigiously swift, he\nbethought himself that he should never win the victory by fighting on\nfoot. The wisest thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very best\nand fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And what other horse in\nall the world was half so fleet as the marvelous horse Pegasus, who had\nwings as well as legs, and was even more active in the air than on the\nearth? To be sure, a great many people denied that there was any such\nhorse with wings, and said that the stories about him were all poetry\nand nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon believed that\nPegasus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself might be fortunate\nenough to find him; and once fairly mounted on his back, he would be\nable to fight the Chimera at better advantage.\n\nAnd this was the purpose with which he had traveled from Lycia to Greece\nand had brought the beautifully ornamented bridle in his hand. It was an\nenchanted bridle. If he could only succeed in putting the golden bit\ninto the mouth of Pegasus, the winged horse would be submissive, and\nwould own Bellerophon for his master, and fly whithersoever he might\nchoose to turn the rein.\n\nBut, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time while Bellerophon waited\nand waited for Pegasus, in hopes that he would come and drink at the\nfountain of Pirene. He was afraid lest King Iobates should imagine that\nhe had fled from the Chimera. It pained him, too, to think how much\nmischief the monster was doing, while he himself, instead of fighting\nwith it, was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright waters of\nPirene as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus came\nthither so seldom in these latter years, and scarcely alighted there\nmore than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he might grow an\nold man, and have no strength left in his arms nor courage in his heart,\nbefore the winged horse would appear. Oh, how heavily passes the time\nwhile an adventurous youth is yearning to do his part in life and to\ngather in the harvest of his renown! How hard a lesson it is to wait!\nOur life is brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching us only this!\n\nWell was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond of\nhim and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning the child\ngave him a new hope to put in his bosom instead of yesterday's withered\none.\n\n\"Dear Bellerophon,\" he would cry, looking up hopefully into his face, \"I\nthink we shall see Pegasus to-day.\"\n\nAnd at length, if it had not been for the little boy's unwavering faith,\nBellerophon would have given up all hope, and would have gone back to\nLycia and have done his best to slay the Chimera without the help of the\nwinged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon would at least have been\nterribly scorched by the creature's breath, and would most probably have\nbeen killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try to fight an earthborn\nChimera unless he can first get upon the back of an aerial steed.\n\nOne morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully than\nusual.\n\n\"Dear, dear Bellerophon,\" cried he, \"I know not why it is, but I feel as\nif we should certainly see Pegasus to-day.\"\n\nAnd all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon's side; so\nthey ate a crust of bread together, and drank some of the water of the\nfountain. In the afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown\nhis arm around the child, who likewise had put one of his little hands\ninto Bellerophon's. The latter was lost in his own thoughts, and was\nfixing his eyes vacantly on the trunks of the trees that over-shadowed\nthe fountain. But the gentle child was gazing down into the water; he\nwas grieved, for Bellerophon's sake, that the hope of another day should\nbe deceived like so many before it, and two or three quiet teardrops\nfell from his eyes and mingled with what were said to be the many tears\nof Pirene, when she wept for her slain children.\n\nBut, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of the\nchild's little hand and heard a soft, almost breathless, whisper:\n\n\"See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water.\"\n\nThe young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of the fountain, and\nsaw what he took to be the reflection of a bird which seemed to be\nflying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its\nsnowy or silvery wings.\n\n\"What a splendid bird it must be!\" said he. \"And how very large it\nlooks, though it must really be flying higher than the clouds!\"\n\n\"It makes me tremble,\" whispered the child. \"I am afraid to look up into\nthe air. It is very beautiful, and yet I dare only look at its image in\nthe water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? It, is\nthe winged horse Pegasus.\"\n\nBellerophon's heart began to throb. He gazed keenly upward, but could\nnot see the winged creature, whether bird or horse, because just then it\nhad plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but a\nmoment, however, before the object reappeared, sinking lightly down out\nof the cloud, although still at a vast distance from the earth.\nBellerophon caught the child in his arms and shrank back with him, so\nthat they were both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew all\naround the fountain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreaded\nlest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away and\nalight in some inaccessible mountain top. For it was really the winged\nhorse. After they had expected him so long, he was coming to quench his\nthirst with the water of Pirene.\n\nNearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying in great circles, as\nyou may have seen a dove when about to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in\nthose wide, sweeping circles which grew narrower and narrower still as\nhe gradually approached the earth. The nigher the view of him, the more\nbeautiful he was and the more marvelous the sweep of his silvery wings.\nAt last, with so light a pressure as hardly to bend the grass about the\nfountain or imprint a hoof-tramp in the sand of its margin, he alighted,\nand, stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew in the water with\nlong and pleasant sighs and tranquil pauses of enjoyment, and then\nanother draught, and another, and another. For nowhere in the world or\nup among the clouds did Pegasus love any water as he loved this of\nPirene. And when his thirst was slaked he cropped a few of the honey-\nblossoms of the clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to make\na hearty meal, because the herbage just beneath the clouds on the lofty\nsides of Mount Helicon suited his palate better than this ordinary\ngrass.\n\nAfter thus drinking to his heart's content, and in his dainty fashion\ncondescending to take a little food, the winged horse began to caper to\nand fro, and dance, as it were, out of mere idleness and sport. There\nnever was a more playful creature made than this very Pegasus. So there\nhe frisked in a way that it delights me to think about, fluttering his\ngreat wings as lightly as ever did a linnet, and running little races\nhalf on earth and half in air, and which I know not whether to call a\nflight or a gallop. When a creature is perfectly able to fly, he\nsometimes chooses to run just for the pastime of the thing; and so did\nPegasus, although it cost him some little trouble to keep his hoofs so\nnear the ground. Bellerophon, meanwhile, holding the child's hand,\npeeped forth from the shrubbery, and thought that never was any sight so\nbeautiful as this, nor ever a horse's eyes so wild and spirited as those\nof Pegasus.\n\nOnce or twice Pegasus stopped and snuffed the air, pricking up his ears,\ntossing his head, and turning it on all sides, as if he partly suspected\nsome mischief or other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no sound,\nhe soon began his antics again. At length--not that he was weary, but\nonly idle and luxurious--Pegasus folded his wings and lay down on the\nsoft green turf. But, being too full of aerial life to remain quiet for\nmany moments together, he soon rolled over on his back with his four\nslender legs in the air. It was beautiful to see him, this one solitary\ncreature whose mate had never been created, but who needed no companion,\nand, living a great many hundred years, was as happy as the centuries\nwere long. The more he did such things as mortal horses are accustomed\nto do, the less earthly and the more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon\nand the child almost held their breath, partly from a delightful awe,\nbut still more because they dreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur\nshould send him up with the speed of an arrow-flight into the farthest\nblue of the sky. Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over and\nover, Pegasus turned himself about, and, indolently, like any other\nhorse, put out his forelegs in order to rise from the ground; and\nBellerophon, who had guessed that he would do so, darted suddenly from\nthe thicket and leaped astride of his back.\n\nYes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!\n\nBut what a bound did Pegasus make when, for the first time, he felt the\nweight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had\ntime to draw a breath Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet aloft,\nand still shooting upward, while the winged horse snorted and trembled\nwith terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into\nthe cold, misty bosom of a cloud at which, only a little while before,\nBellerophon had been gazing and fancying it a very pleasant spot. Then\nagain, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a\nthunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his rider head-long\nagainst a rock. Then he went through about a thousand of the wildest\ncaprioles that had ever been performed either by a bird or a horse.\n\nI cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed straight forward, and\nsideways, and backward. He reared himself erect, with his forelegs on a\nwreath of mist and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung out his\nheels behind and put down his head between his legs, with his wings\npointing right upward. At about two miles' height above the earth he\nturned a somersault, so that Bellerophon's heels were where his head\nshould have been, and he seemed to look down into the sky, instead of\nup. He twisted his head about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face,\nwith fire flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to bite him.\nHe fluttered his pinions so wildly that one of the silver feathers was\nshaken out, and, floating earthward, was picked up by the child, who\nkept it as long as he lived in memory of Pegasus and Bellerophon.\n\nBut the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good a horseman as ever\ngalloped) had been watching his opportunity, and at last clapped the\ngolden bit of the enchanted bridle between the winged steed's jaws. No\nsooner was this done than Pegasus became as manageable as if he had\ntaken food all his life out of Bellerophon's hand. To speak what I\nreally feel, it was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow\nsuddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so likewise. He looked\nround to Bellerophon with tears in his beautiful eyes, instead of the\nfire that so recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon patted his\nhead and spoke a few authoritative, yet kind and soothing words, another\nlook came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad at heart, after so\nmany lonely centuries, to have found a companion and a master. Thus it\nalways is with winged horses and with all such wild and solitary\ncreatures. If you can catch and overcome them, it is the surest way to\nwin their love.\n\nWhile Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellerophon off his\nback, he had flown a very long distance, and they had come within sight\nof a lofty mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophon\nhad seen this mountain before, and knew it to be Helicon, on the summit\nof which was the winged horse's abode. Thither (after looking gently\ninto his rider's face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and,\nalighting, waited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dismount.\nThe young man accordingly leaped from his steed's back, but still held\nhim fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, he was so affected by\nthe gentleness of his aspect and by his beauty, and by the thought of\nthe free life which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he could not bear\nto keep him a prisoner if he really desired his liberty.\n\nObeying this generous impulse, he slipped the enchanted bridle off the\nhead of Pegasus and took the bit from his mouth.\n\n\"Leave me, Pegasus!\" said he. \"Either leave me or love me.\"\n\nIn an instant the winged horse shot almost out of sight, soaring\nstraight upward from the summit of Mount Helicon. Being long after\nsunset, it was now twilight on the mountain top and dusky evening over\nall the country round about. But Pegasus flew so high that he overtook\nthe departed day, and was bathed in the upper radiance of the sun.\nAscending higher and higher, he looked like a bright speck, and at last\ncould no longer be seen in the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophon\nwas afraid that he should never behold him more. But while he was\nlamenting his own folly the bright speck reappeared, and drew nearer and\nnearer until it descended lower than the sunshine; and behold, Pegasus\nhad come back! After this trial there was no more fear of the winged\nhorse's making his escape. He and Bellerophon were friends, and put\nloving faith in one another.\n\nThat night they lay down and slept together, with Bellerophon's arm\nabout the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution, but for kindness. And they\nawoke at peep of day and bade one another good morning, each in his own\nlanguage.\n\nIn this manner Bellerophon and the wondrous steed spent several days,\nand grew better acquainted and fonder of each other all the time. They\nwent on long aerial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high that the\nearth looked hardly bigger than the moon. They visited different\ncountries and amazed the inhabitants, who thought that the beautiful\nyoung man on the back of the winged horse must have come down out of the\nsky. A thousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the fleet\nPegasus to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind of life,\nand would have liked nothing better than to live always in the same way,\naloft in the clear atmosphere; for it was always sunny weather up there,\nhowever cheerless and rainy it might be in the lower region. But he\ncould not forget the horrible Chimera which he had promised King Iobates\nto slay. So at last, when he had become well accustomed to feats of\nhorsemanship in the air, and could manage Pegasus with the least motion\nof his hand, and had taught him to obey his voice, he determined to\nattempt the performance of this perilous adventure.\n\nAt daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes, he gently\npinched the winged horse's ear in order to arouse him. Pegasus\nimmediately started from the ground and pranced about a quarter of a\nmile aloft, and made a grand sweep around the mountain top by way of\nshowing that he was wide awake and ready for any kind of an excursion.\nDuring the whole of this little flight, he uttered a loud, brisk, and\nmelodious neigh, and finally came down at Bellerophon's side as lightly\nas you ever saw a sparrow hop upon a twig.\n\n\"Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skimmer!\" cried Bellerophon,\nfondly stroking the horse's neck. \"And now, my fleet and beautiful\nfriend, we must break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terrible\nChimera.\"\n\nAs soon as they had eaten their morning meal and drunk some sparkling\nwater from a spring called Hippocrene, Pegasus held out his head of his\nown accord so that his master might put on the bridle. Then, with a\ngreat many playful leaps and airy caperings, he showed his impatience to\nbe gone, while Bellerophon was girding on his sword and hanging his\nshield about his neck and preparing himself for battle. When everything\nwas ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom when going a long\ndistance) ascended five miles perpendicularly, so as the better to see\nwhither he was directing his course. He then turned the head of Pegasus\ntoward the east, and set out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an\neagle, and came so nigh him, before he could get out of their way, that\nBellerophon might easily have caught him by the leg. Hastening onward at\nthis rate, it was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the lofty\nmountains of Lycia with their deep and shaggy valleys. If Bellerophon\nhad been told truly, it was in one of those dismal valleys that the\nhideous Chimera had taken up its abode.\n\nBeing now so near their journey's end, the winged horse gradually\ndescended with his rider, and they took advantage of some clouds that\nwere floating over the mountain tops in order to conceal themselves.\nHovering on the upper surface of a cloud and peeping over its edge,\nBellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the mountainous part of Lycia,\nand could look into all its shadowy vales at once. It was a wild,\nsavage, and rocky tract of high and precipitous hills. In the more level\npart of the country there were ruins of burned houses, and here and\nthere the carcasses of dead cattle strewn about the pastures where they\nhad been feeding.\n\n\"The Chimera must have done this mischief,\" thought Bellerophon. \"But\nwhere can the monster be?\"\n\nAs I have already said, there was nothing remarkable to be detected at\nfirst sight in any of the valleys and dells that lay among the\nprecipitous heights of the mountains--nothing at all, unless, indeed, it\nwere three spires of black smoke which issued from what seemed to be the\nmouth of a cavern and clambered sullenly into the atmosphere. Before\nreaching the mountain top these three black smoke-wreaths mingled\nthemselves into one. The cavern was almost directly beneath the winged\nhorse and his rider, at the distance of about a thousand feet. The\nsmoke, as it crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling\nscent which caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. So\ndisagreeable was it to the marvelous steed (who was accustomed to\nbreathe only the purest air) that he waved his wings and shot half a\nmile out of the range of this offensive vapor.\n\nBut on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw something that induced him\nfirst to draw the bridle and then to turn Pegasus about. He made a sign,\nwhich the winged horse understood, and sunk slowly through the air until\nhis hoofs were scarcely more than a man's height above the rocky bottom\nof the valley. In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, was the\ncavern's mouth with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. And what\nelse did Bellerophon behold there?\n\nThere seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible creatures curled up\nwithin the cavern. Their bodies lay so close together that Bellerophon\ncould not distinguish them apart; but, judging by their heads, one of\nthese creatures was a huge snake, the second a fierce lion, and the\nthird an ugly goat.\n\nThe lion and the goat were asleep; the snake was broad awake, and kept\nstaring around him with a great pair of fiery eyes. But--and this was\nthe most wonderful part of the matter--the three spires of smoke\nevidently issued from the nostrils of these three heads! So strange was\nthe spectacle, that, though Bellerophon had been all along expecting it,\nthe truth did not immediately occur to him that here was the terrible\nthree-headed Chimera. He had found out the Chimera's cavern. The snake,\nthe lion, and the goat, as he supposed them to be, were not three\nseparate creatures, but one monster!\n\nThe wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering as two thirds of it were, it still\nheld in its abominable claws the remnant of an unfortunate lamb--or\npossibly (but I hate to think so) it was a dear little boy--which its\nthree mouths had been gnawing before two of them fell asleep!\n\nAll at once Bellerophon started as from a dream, and knew it to be the\nChimera. Pegasus seemed to know it at the same instant, and sent forth a\nneigh that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At this sound\nthe three heads reared themselves erect and belched out great flashes of\nflame. Before Bellerophon had time to consider what to do next, the\nmonster flung itself out of the cavern and sprung straight toward him,\nwith its immense claws extended and its snaky tail twisting itself\nvenomously behind. If Pegasus had not been as nimble as a bird, both he\nand his rider would have been overthrown by the Chimera's headlong rush,\nand thus the battle have been ended before it was well begun. But the\nwinged horse was not to be caught so. In the twinkling of an eye he was\nup aloft, halfway to the clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered, too,\nnot with affright, but with utter disgust at the loathsomeness of this\npoisonous thing with three heads.\n\n[Illustration: PEGASUS DARTED DOWN ASLANT TOWARD THE CHIMERA'S THREE-\nFOLD HEAD.]\n\nThe Chimera, on the other hand, raised itself up so as to stand\nabsolutely on the tip end of its tail, with its talons pawing fiercely\nin the air and its three heads spluttering fire at Pegasus and his\nrider. My stars! how it roared and hissed and bellowed! Bellerophon,\nmeanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm and drawing his sword.\n\n\"Now, my beloved Pegasus,\" he whispered in the winged horse's ear, \"thou\nmust help me to slay this insufferable monster, or else thou shalt fly\nback to thy solitary mountain peak without thy friend Bellerophon. For\neither the Chimera dies, or its three mouths shall gnaw this head of\nmine, which has slumbered upon thy neck.\"\n\nPegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, rubbed his nose tenderly\nagainst his rider's cheek. It was his way of telling him that, though he\nhad wings and was an immortal horse, yet he would perish, if it were\npossible for immortality to perish, rather than leave Bellerophon\nbehind.\n\n\"I thank you, Pegasus,\" answered Bellerophon. \"Now, then, let us make a\ndash at the monster!\"\n\nUttering these words, he shook the bridle, and Pegasus darted down\naslant, as swift as the flight of an arrow, right toward the Chimera's\nthree-fold head, which all this time was poking itself as high as it\ncould into the air. As he came within arm's length, Bellerophon made a\ncut at the monster, but was carried onward by his steed before he could\nsee whether the blow had been successful. Pegasus continued his course,\nbut soon wheeled round at about the same distance from the Chimera as\nbefore. Bellerophon then perceived that he had cut the goat's head of\nthe monster almost off, so that it dangled downward by the skin, and\nseemed quite dead. But, to make amends, the snake's head and the lion's\nhead had taken all the fierceness of the dead one into themselves, and\nspit flame and hissed and roared with more fury than before.\n\n\"Never mind, my brave Pegasus!\" cried Bellerophon. \"With another stroke\nlike that we will surely stop either its hissing or its roaring.\"\n\nAnd again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslant-wise as before, the winged\nhorse made another arrow-flight toward the Chimera, and Bellerophon\naimed another downright stroke at one of the two remaining heads as he\nshot by. But this time neither he nor Pegasus escaped so well as at\nfirst. With one of its claws the Chimera had given the young man a deep\nscratch in his shoulder, and had slightly damaged the left wing of the\nflying steed with the other. On his part, Bellerophon had mortally\nwounded the lion's head of the monster, insomuch that it now hung\ndownward, with its fire almost extinguished, and sending out gasps of\nthick black smoke. The snake's head, however (which was the only one now\nleft), was twice as fierce and venomous as ever before. It belched forth\nshoots of fire five hundred yards long, and emitted hisses so loud, so\nharsh, and so ear-piercing that King Iobates heard them fifty miles off,\nand trembled till the throne shook under him.\n\n\"Well-a-day!\" thought the poor king; \"the Chimera is certainly coming to\ndevour me.\"\n\nMeanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air and neighed angrily, while\nsparkles of a pure crystal flame darted out of his eyes. How unlike the\nlurid fire of the Chimera! The aerial steed's spirit was all aroused,\nand so was that of Bellerophon.\n\n\"Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?\" cried the young man, caring less\nfor his own hurt than for the anguish of this glorious creature that\nought never to have tasted pain. \"The execrable Chimera shall pay for\nthis mischief with his last head.\"\n\nThen he shook the bridle, shouted loudly and guided Pegasus, not\naslantwise as before, but straight at the monster's hideous front. So\nrapid was the onset that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash before\nBellerophon was at close gripes with his enemy.\n\nThe Chimera by this time, after losing its second head, had got into a\nred-hot passion of pain and rampant rage. It so flounced about, half on\nearth and partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which element\nit rested upon. It opened its snake jaws to such an abominable width\nthat Pegasus might almost, I was going to say, have flown right down its\nthroat, wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it shot out a\ntremendous blast of its fiery breath and enveloped Bellerophon and his\nsteed in a perfect atmosphere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus,\nscorching off one whole side of the young man's ringlets, and making\nthem both far hotter than was comfortable from head to foot.\n\nBut this was nothing to what followed.\n\nWhen the airy rush of the winged horse had brought him within the\ndistance of a hundred yards, the Chimera gave a spring, and flung its\nhuge, awkward, venomous and utterly detestable carcass right upon poor\nPegasus, clung round him with might and main, and tied up its snaky tail\ninto a knot! Up flew the aerial steed, higher, higher, above the\nmountain peaks, above the clouds, and almost out of sight of the solid\nearth. But still the earth-born monster kept its hold and was borne\nupward along with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon, meanwhile,\nturning about, found himself face to face with the ugly grimness of the\nChimera's visage, and could only avoid being scorched to death or bitten\nright in twain by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge of the\nshield he looked sternly into the savage eyes of the monster.\n\nBut the Chimera was so mad and wild with pain that it did not guard\nitself so well as might else have been the case. Perhaps, after all, the\nbest way to fight a Chimera is by getting as close to it as you can. In\nits efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy the creature\nleft its own breast quite exposed, and, perceiving this, Bellerophon\nthrust his sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the\nsnaky tail untied its knot. The monster let go its hold of Pegasus and\nfell from that vast height downward, while the fire within its bosom,\ninstead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began to\nconsume the dead carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky all aflame, and\n(it being nightfall before it reached the earth) was mistaken for a\nshooting star or a comet. But at early sunrise some cottagers were going\nto their day's labor, and saw, to their astonishment, that several acres\nof ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle of a field there\nwas a heap of whitened bones a great deal higher than a haystack.\nNothing else was ever seen of the dreadful Chimera. And when Bellerophon\nhad won the victory he bent forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears\nstood in his eyes.\n\n\"Back, now, my beloved steed!\" said he. \"Back to the fountain of\nPirene!\"\n\nPegasus skimmed through the air quicker than ever he did before, and\nreached the fountain in a very short time. And there he found the old\nman leaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and\nthe pretty maiden filling her pitcher.\n\n\"I remember now,\" quoth the old man, \"I saw this winged horse once\nbefore, when I was quite a lad. But he was ten times handsomer in those\ndays.\"\n\n\"I own a cart horse worth three of him,\" said the country fellow. \"If\nthis pony were mine, the first thing I should do would be to clip his\nwings.\"\n\nBut the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to be\nafraid at the wrong time. So she ran away, and let her pitcher tumble\ndown, and broke it.\n\n\"Where is the gentle child,\" asked Bellerophon, \"who used to keep me\ncompany, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing into\nthe fountain?\"\n\n\"Here am I, dear Bellerophon!\" said the child softly.\n\nFor the little boy had spent day after day on the margin of Pirene,\nwaiting for his friend to come back; but when he perceived Bellerophon\ndescending through the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had\nshrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender child, and\ndreaded lest the old man and the country fellow should see the tears\ngushing from his eyes.\n\n\"Thou hast won the victory,\" said he joyfully, running to the knee of\nBellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. \"I knew thou\nwouldst.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear child!\" replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged horse.\n\"But if thy faith had not helped me, I should never have waited for\nPegasus, and never have gone up above the clouds, and never have\nconquered the terrible Chimera. Thou, my little friend, hast done it\nall. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty.\" So he slipped off the\nenchanted bridle from the head of the marvelous steed.\n\n\"Be free for evermore, my Pegasus!\" cried he, with a shade of sadness in\nhis tone. \"Be as free as thou art fleet.\"\n\nBut Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon's shoulder, and would not\ntake flight.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, \"thou shalt be\nwith me as long as thou wilt, and we will go together forthwith and tell\nKing Iobates that the Chimera is destroyed.\"\n\nThen Bellerophon embraced the gentle child and promised to come to him\nagain, and departed. But in after years that child took higher flights\nupon the aerial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achieved more\nhonorable deeds than his friend's victory over the Chimera. For, gentle\nand tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty poet!\n\n\n\n\nA VISIT FROM SAINT NICHOLAS\n\nBy Clement C. Moore\n\n\nTwas the night before Christmas, when all through the house\nNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;\nThe stockings were hung by the chimney with care,\nIn hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there;\nThe children were nestled all snug in their beds,\nWhile visions of sugarplums danced in their heads;\nAnd mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,\nHad just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,--\nWhen out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,\nI sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.\nAway to the window I flew like a flash,\nTore open the shutters and threw up the sash.\nThe moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow\nGave a lustre of midday to objects below;\nWhen, what to my wondering eyes should appear,\nBut a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,\nWith a little old driver, so lively and quick,\nI knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.\nMore rapid than eagles his coursers they came,\nAnd he whistled and shouted, and called them by name:\n\n\"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!\nOn, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!\nTo the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!\nNow dash away, dash away, dash away all!\"\n\nAs dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,\nWhen they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,\nSo up to the house-top the coursers they flew,\nWith the sleigh full of toys,--and Saint Nicholas, too.\nAnd then in a twinkling I heard on the roof\nThe prancing and pawing of each little hoof.\nAs I drew in my head, and was turning around,\nDown the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.\nHe was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,\nAnd his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;\nA bundle of toys he had flung on his back,\nAnd he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.\nHis eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!\nHis cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;\nHis droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,\nAnd the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.\nThe stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,\nAnd the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.\nHe had a broad face and a little round belly\nThat shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.\nHe was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf;\nAnd I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself.\nA wink of his eye and a twist of his head\nSoon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.\nHe spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,\nAnd filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,\nAnd laying his finger aside of his nose,\nAnd giving a nod, up the chimney he rose,\nHe sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,\nAnd away they all flew like the down of a thistle;\nBut I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,\n\"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!\"\n\n\nClement Clarke Moore, who wrote this poem, published a whole volume of\npoems, but none of the others is as famous as is this. It was written\nfor his own children, and he did not even know that it was to be\npublished. It appeared in the Troy Sentinel in 1823, just two days\nbefore Christmas, and we can imagine how delighted children were when\nthey had it read to them for the first time. It is not a great poem; but\nno Christmas poem that has been published since has been half as popular\nwith children, and even grown people like it for its jolliness and its\nChristmas spirit.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF PHAETHON\n\n\nPhaeton, the son of the nymph Clymene, was very proud of his mother's\nbeauty, and used to boast of it greatly to his playmates. Tired of the\nboy's bragging and conceit, one of his friends said to him one day:\n\n\"You're very willing to talk about your mother, but I notice you never\nspeak of your father. Are you ashamed of him?\"\n\n\"No, I'm not,\" replied Phaethon, trying to look unabashed.\n\n\"Well, then, tell us about him. If he were anything great, you would be\nwilling enough to brag about him.\"\n\nAnd because Phaethon kept quiet, all of his playmates began to jeer at\nhim, cruelly enough.\n\n\"You don't know your father. You've never seen him,\" they cried.\n\nPhaethon would not cry before them, but there were tears of shame and\nanger in his eyes as he told the story to his mother.\n\n\"Never mind, my boy,\" she said soothingly, \"To-morrow you shall tell\nthem the name of your father, and that will stop their taunts. Come, let\nme whisper it to you.\"\n\nWhen Phaethon heard what she had to tell him, his eyes shone with joy\nand pride, and he could scarce wait for morning to carry his news to his\nmocking friends. He was first at the meeting-place, but he would say\nnothing until all his playmates were gathered. Then he said, quietly,\nbut O, so proudly:\n\n\"My father is Apollo, the sun-god!\"\n\nFor a moment there was silence; then came a burst of laughter from the\ngroup crowded about Phaethon.\n\n\"A likely story! Who ever heard anything so ridiculous? It's quite plain\nthat your mother is ashamed of your father, and is trying to throw you\noff the track.\"\n\nAgain Phaethon ran home, his cheeks burning, his eyes flashing, and\nagain he told his mother all that had passed.\n\n\"It's too late to do anything about it to-day,\" said Clymene, \"but to-\nmorrow you shall go yourself to your father's palace, before he sets out\non his trip across the sky; and if he is pleased with you, he will give\nyou some proof that you are really his son.\"\n\nLong before daylight the next morning Phaethon set out, and with his\nmother's directions in mind, walked straight east until he came to the\ndazzling palace of the sun. Had he not been a bold youth, he would have\nbeen frightened and turned back; but he was determined to prove his\nboasts, and passed on into the palace. At last, on a great golden\nthrone, he saw his father--surely a more glorious father than ever boy\nhad before. So glorious was he that Phaethon dared not approach him\nclosely, as the light about the throne was blinding. When Apollo\nrecognized him, however, he took off the crown of rays from about his\nhead and called to Phaethon to approach fearlessly.\n\nAs the boy stood before the throne, he was a son of whom no father, even\nApollo, needed to be ashamed; and as he hurried into his story, the sun-\ngod smiled at the signs of his impetuous temper.\n\n\"You're willing to own me for your son, aren't you?\" finished Phaethon.\n\n\"To be sure I am,\" replied the sun-god; \"and that your mates may never\nhave chance to doubt it more, I swear by the terrible Styx [Footnote:\nThe Styx was one of the great rivers of Hades. The oath by the Styx was\nregarded as so binding that even a god could not break it without being\npunished severely for his perjury. Any god who broke his oath was\nobliged to drink of the black waters of the Styx which kept him in utter\nunconsciousness for a year; and after his return to consciousness he was\nbanished for nine years from Olympus.] to give you any proof you ask.\"\n\nIt did not take Phaethon long to decide--he had made up his mind on the\nway; and his words fairly tumbled over each other as he cried eagerly:\n\n\"Then I'll drive the sun-chariot for a day!\"\n\nApollo was horrified, for he knew that he alone of the gods could manage\nthe fiery steeds; and if great Jupiter himself could not do it, what\nwould happen if they were placed in the power of this slight boy? He\nbegged Phaethon to release him from his promise, but--\n\n\"You promised, you promised!\" repeated the boy. \"You swore by the Styx,\nand you CAN'T break your word.\"\n\nThis was true, as Apollo knew well; and at length, with a sigh, he\nturned and called to his servants, the Hours, who stood ready to attend\nhim on his journey:\n\n\"Harness my steeds, and make sure that everything is right about the\nchariot.\"\n\nWhile this was being done, Apollo explained carefully to his son the\ndangers of the way, hoping yet to turn him from his purpose.\n\n\"The path runs steeply upward at first,\" he said, \"and with all their\nstrength the horses can scarce drag the chariot. During the middle of\nthe day the course is high, high in the heavens, and it will sicken you\nand make you dizzy if you look down. But the latter part of the drive is\nmost dangerous, for it slopes rapidly down, and if the horses are not\ntightly reined in, horses, chariot and driver will fall headlong into\nthe sea.\"\n\nNothing frightened Phaethon.\n\n\"You see,\" he explained, \"it's not as if I didn't know how to drive.\nI've often driven my grandfather's horses, and they are wild and\nstrong.\"\n\nBy this time the magnificent golden chariot and the six horses of white\nfire were ready, and after one last plea to his son, Apollo permitted\nhim to mount the seat. He anointed the boy's face with a cooling lotion,\nthat the heat might not scorch him, and placed the crown of beams about\nhis head.\n\n\"And now,\" he said, \"you must be off. Already the people on earth are\nwondering why the sun does not rise. Do remember, my boy, not to use the\nwhip, and to choose a path across the heavens which is neither too high\nnor too low.\"\n\nWith but scant attention to his father's advice, Phaethon gave the word\nto his steeds and dashed out of the gates which Aurora opened for him.\nAnd thus began a day which the gods on Olympus and the people on earth\nnever forgot.\n\n[Illustration: IN VAIN PHAETHON PULLED AT THE REINS.]\n\nThe horses easily perceived that some other hand than their master's\nheld the lines, and they promptly became unmanageable. In vain Phaethon\npulled at the reins; in vain he called the steeds by name. Up the sky\nthey dashed, and then, first to the south, then to the north, they took\ntheir zigzag course across the heavens. What a sight it must have\npresented from below, this sun reeling crazily about the sky! Worst of\nall, however, the horses did not keep at the same distance from the\nearth. First they went down, down, until they almost touched the\nmountain tops. Trees, grass, wheat, flowers, all were scorched and\nblackened; and one great tract in Africa was so parched that nothing has\nsince been able to grow upon it. Rivers were dried up, the snow on the\nmountain tops was melted, and, strangest of all, the people in the\ncountry over which the sun-chariot was passing were burned black.\n[Footnote: In this way the ancients explained the great desert of\nSahara, and the dark color of the people of Africa.] Then, rising, the\nhorses dragged the chariot so far from the earth that intense, bitter\ncold killed off much of the vegetation which the fierce heat had spared.\n\nPoor Phaethon could do nothing but clutch the seat and shut his eyes. He\ndared not look down, lest he lose his balance and fall; he dared not\nlook about him, for there were, in all parts of the heavens, the most\nterrifying animals--a great scorpion, a lion, two bears, a huge crab.\n[Footnote: These terrifying animals which Phaethon saw in the sky were\nthe groups of stars, the constellations to which the ancients gave the\nnames of animals etc. We know the Big Dipper, or Great Bear, for we may\nsee it in the north any clear night.] Vainly he repented of his\nrashness; sadly he wondered in what way his death would come.\n\nIt came suddenly--so suddenly that poor Phaethon did not feel the pain\nof it. For Jupiter, when he saw the sun rocking about the heavens, did\nnot stop to inquire who the unknown charioteer was; he knew it was not\nApollo, and he knew the earth was being ruined--that was enough. Seizing\none of his biggest thunderbolts, he hurled it with all his might, and\nPhaethon fell, flaming, from his lofty seat into the Eridanus River;\nwhile the horses, whom no thunderbolt could harm, trotted quietly back\nto their stalls. Clymene bewailed her son's death bitterly, and his\ncompanions, grieved that their taunts should have driven their comrade\nto his destruction, helped her to erect over his grave a stone on which\nwere these words:\n\n\"Lies buried here young Phaethon, who sought\n To guide his father's chariot of flame.\n What though he failed? No death ignoble his\n Who fared to meet it with such lofty aim.\"\n\n Most of the Greek myths had meanings; they were not simply fairy\nstories. And while we have no means now of finding the meanings of some\nof them, many of them are so clear that we can understand exactly what\nthe Greeks meant to teach by them. By far the most numerous are the so-\ncalled \"nature myths\"--myths which they invented to explain the\nhappenings which they saw constantly about them in the natural world. Of\nthese nature myths the story of Phaethon is one.\n\nThe ancients believed that drought was caused by the sun's coming too\nclose to the earth; but how could Apollo, experienced driver of the sun-\nchariot, ever be so careless as to drive close enough to the earth to\nburn it? It was easy enough to imagine that the chariot, when it did\nsuch damage, was being driven by some reckless person who knew not how\nto guide it. But then arose the necessity of explaining Apollo's\nwillingness to trust such a reckless person with so great a task; and\nwhat more likely than that the inexperienced charioteer was Apollo's\nbeloved son, who had induced his father to grant his rash request?\nGradually details were added, until the story took the form in which we\nhave it.\n\nAs the drought of summer is often brought to a close by a storm which is\naccompanied by thunder and lightning, and which hides the light of the\nsun, so in the story Phaethon's ruinous drive is brought to an end by\nthe thunderbolt of Jupiter; while the horses, trotting back home before\ntheir time, leave the world in comparative darkness.\n\nIt must not be supposed that some one just sat down one day and said, \"I\nwill tell a story which shall explain drought and the ending of\ndrought.\" This story, like all the others, grew up gradually. Perhaps,\none day, in time of drought, some one said to his neighbor, \"The chariot\nof Apollo is coming too close to the earth,\" and perhaps his neighbor\nreplied, \"Some one who knows not how to guide the white horses is\ndriving it.\" Such language might in time easily become the common\nlanguage for describing times of drought; and so, at length, would grow\nup, out of what was at first merely a description, in figurative\nlanguage, of a natural happening, a story, in dramatic form.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENGLISH ROBIN\n\nBy Harrison Weir\n\n\nSee yon robin on the spray;\n  Look ye how his tiny form\nSwells, as when his merry lay\n  Gushes forth amid the storm.\n\nThough the snow is falling fast,\n  Specking o'er his coat with white,\nThough loud roars the chilly blast,\n  And the evening's lost in night,\n\nYet from out the darkness dreary\n  Cometh still that cheerful note;\nPraiseful aye, and never weary,\n  Is that little warbling throat.\n\nThank him for his lesson's sake,\n  Thank God's gentle minstrel there,\nWho, when storms make others quake,\n  Sings of days that brighter were.\n\n\nThe English robin is not the bird we call robin redbreast in the United\nStates. Our robin is a big, lordly chap about ten inches long, but the\nEnglish robin is not more than five and a half inches long; that is, it\nis smaller than an English sparrow. The robin of the poem has an olive-\ngreen back and a breast of yellowish red, and in habits it is like our\nwarblers. It is a sweet singer, and a confiding, friendly little thing,\nso that English children are very fond of it, and English writers are\ncontinually referring to it.\n\n\n\n\nTOM, THE WATER BABY\n\nBy Charles Kingsley\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY NOTE\n\n\nCharles Kingsley, who was born in 1819, and became Canon of the Church\nof England at Chester, wrote, in addition to his interesting and\nbrilliant novels, The Water Babies, which is a charming fairy story for\nyoung people. It is, however, one of those stories that can be read more\nthan once, and read by all classes of people.\n\nBesides telling the delightful story of Tom, the water baby, and his\nwonderful adventures on land and in water, Canon Kingsley gives in a\nvery amusing style accounts of many of the animals that live in and near\nthe water. But he brings them all into the story in such a way that they\nseem to be real, living characters, and you are almost as much\ninterested in the stately salmon and his wife, or even in the funny old\nlobster, as you would be if they were actual human beings.\n\nAs the story was written originally, there was a great deal in it for\nchildren of much larger growth than those who will read it here. In some\nrespects the story resembles Gulliver's Travels, for Kingsley took\noccasion to be satirical about many of the things which men and women\nsay, do and believe. Some of this satire children will enjoy thoroughly,\nbut some of it could not be understood well except by persons who have\nlived in this world for many years. Accordingly, in this book, we have\nthought it best to leave out some things, giving you only the story of\nTom, and hoping that when you young readers grow to manhood or womanhood\nyou will find The Water Babies, complete, a good story to read. You will\nenjoy recalling the delight you have in it now, and will find out that\neven a children's story may be so told as to keep a man thinking.\n\nMoreover, the story was written by an Englishman for an English boy, and\nthere are a great many allusions to things that only English boys\nappreciate or understand, and it has seemed wise to omit most of these.\nOn the other hand, nothing has been omitted to weaken the story of Tom,\nand nothing has been added to destroy the charm of Canon Kingsley's\nwriting.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, [Footnote: A boy\nwould have a hard time crawling through some of our chimneys nowadays,\nbut years ago, when houses had open fireplaces instead of steam plants,\nthere was a network of huge chimneys through which a small boy could\neasily work his way, brushing off the soot as he went.] and his name was\nTom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not\nhave much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the\nNorth country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep, and plenty\nof money for Tom to earn and his master to spend. He could not read nor\nwrite, and did not care to do either; and he never washed himself, for\nthere was no water up the court where he lived. He had never been taught\nto say his prayers. He never had heard of God, or of Christ, except in\nwords which you never have heard, and which it would have been well if\nhe had never heard.\n\n[Illustration: THERE WAS A LITTLE CHIMNEY SWEEP, AND HIS NAME WAS TOM.]\n\nHe cried half his time, and laughed the other half. He cried when he had\nto climb the dark flues, rubbing his poor knees and elbows raw; and when\nthe soot got into his eyes, which it did every day in the week; and when\nhis master beat him, which he did every day in the week; and when he had\nnot enough to eat, which happened every day in the week likewise. And he\nlaughed the other half of the day, when he was tossing halfpennies with\nthe other boys, or playing leapfrog over the posts, or bowling stones at\nthe horses' legs as they trotted by, which last was excellent fun, when\nthere was a wall at hand behind which to hide.\n\nAs for chimneysweeping, and being hungry, and being beaten, he took all\nthat for the way of the world, like the rain and snow and thunder, and\nstood manfully with his back to it till it was over, as his old donkey\ndid to a hailstorm; and then shook his ears and was as jolly as ever;\nand thought of the fine times coming, when he would be a man, and a\nmaster sweep, [Footnote: A master sweep was a man who had grown too\nlarge to climb up chimneys, but who kept boys whom he hired out for that\npurpose.] and sit in the public-house with a quart of beer and a long\npipe, and play cards for silver money, and wear velveteens and ankle-\njacks, and keep a white bulldog with one gray ear, and carry her puppies\nin his pocket, just like a man. And he would have apprentices, one, two,\nthree, if he could. How he would bully them, and knock them about, just\nas his master did to him; and make them carry home the soot sacks, while\nhe rode before them on his donkey, with a pipe in his mouth and a flower\nin his buttonhole, like a king at the head of his army. Yes, there were\ngood times coming; and when his master let him have a pull at the\nleavings of his beer, Tom was the jolliest boy in the whole town.\n\nOne day a smart little groom rode into the court where Tom lived, and\nhalloed to him to know where Mr. Grimes, the chimney-sweep, lived. Now,\nMr. Grimes was Tom's own master, and Tom was a good man of business, and\nalways civil to customers, so he proceeded to take orders.\n\nMr. Grimes was to come up next morning to Sir John Harthover's at the\nPlace, for his old chimney-sweep was gone to prison, and the chimneys\nwanted sweeping. And so he rode away, not giving Tom time to ask what\nthe sweep had gone to prison for, which was a matter of interest to Tom,\nas he had been in prison once or twice himself. Moreover, the groom\nlooked so very neat and clean, with his drab gaiters, drab breeches,\ndrab jacket, snow-white tie with a smart pin in it, and clean round\nruddy face, that Tom was offended and disgusted at his appearance, and\nconsidered him a stuck-up fellow, who gave himself airs because he wore\nsmart clothes, and other people paid for them.\n\nHis master was so delighted at his new customer that he knocked Tom down\nout of hand, and drank more beer that night than he usually did in two,\nin order to be sure of getting up in time next morning, for the more a\nman's head aches when he wakes, the more glad he is to turn out, and\nhave a breath of fresh air. And when he did get up at four the next\nmorning, he knocked Tom down again, in order to teach him (as young\ngentlemen used to be taught at public schools) that he must be an extra\ngood boy that day, as they were going to a very great house, and might\nmake a very good thing of it, if they could but give satisfaction.\n\nAnd Tom thought so likewise, and, indeed, would have done and behaved\nhis best, even without being knocked down. For, of all places upon\nearth, Harthover Place (which he had never seen) was the most wonderful,\nand, of all men on earth, Sir John (whom he had seen, having been sent\nto jail by him twice) was the most awful.\n\nHarthover Place was really a grand place, even for the rich North\ncountry, and Sir John a grand old man, whom even Mr. Grimes respected;\nfor not only could he send Mr. Grimes to prison when he deserved it, as\nhe did once or twice a week; not only did he own all the land about for\nmiles; not only was he as jolly, honest, sensible squire as ever kept a\npack of hounds, who would do what he thought right by his neighbors, as\nwell as get what he thought right for himself; but what was more, he\nweighed full fifteen stone, was nobody knew how many inches round the\nchest, and could have thrashed Mr. Grimes himself in fair fight, which\nvery few folk round there could do, and which, my dear little boy, would\nnot have been right for him to do, as a great many things are not which\none can do, and would like very much to do. So Mr. Grimes touched his\nhat to him when he rode through the town, and thought that that made up\nfor his poaching Sir John's pheasants.\n\nSo Tom and his master set out; Grimes rode the donkey in front, and Tom\nand the brushes walked behind; out of the court, and up the street, past\nthe closed window shutters, and the winking weary policemen, and the\nroofs all shining gray in the gray dawn. They passed through the\npitmen's village, all shut up and silent now, and through the turn-pike;\nand then they were out in the real country, and plodding along the black\ndusty road, between black slag walls, with no sound but the groaning and\nthumping of the pit-engine in the next field. But soon the road grew\nwhite, and the walls likewise; and at the wall's foot grew long grass\nand gay flowers, all drenched with dew; and instead of the groaning of\nthe pit-engine, they heard the skylark, saying his matins high up in the\nair, and the pit-bird warbling in the sedges, as he had warbled all\nnight long.\n\nAll else was silent. For old Mrs. Earth was still fast asleep; and, like\nmany pretty people, she looked still prettier asleep than awake. The\ngreat elm trees in the gold-green meadows were fast asleep above, and\nthe cows fast asleep beneath them; nay, the few clouds which were about\nwere fast asleep likewise, and so tired that they had lain down on the\nearth to rest, in long white flakes and bars, among the stems of the elm\ntrees, and along the tops of the alders by the stream, waiting for the\nsun to bid them rise and go about their day's business in the clear blue\noverhead.\n\n[Illustration: THEY CAME UP WITH A POOR IRISHWOMAN.]\n\nOn they went; and Tom looked, and looked, for he never had been so far\ninto the country before; and longed to get over a gate, and pick\nbuttercups, and look for birds' nests in the hedge; but Mr. Grimes was a\nman of business, and would not have heard of that.\n\nSoon they came up with a poor Irishwoman, trudging along with a bundle\nat her back. She had a gray shawl over her head, and a crimson madder\npetticoat; so you may be sure she came from Galway. [Footnote: Galway is\na county in the western part of Ireland. The dress here described was\nthe characteristic dress of the peasants of that county.] She had\nneither shoes nor stockings, and limped along as if she were tired and\nfootsore; but she was a very tall, handsome woman, with bright gray\neyes, and heavy black hair hanging about her cheeks. And she took Mr.\nGrimes' fancy so much, that when he came alongside he called out to her:\n\n\"This is a hard road for a gradely [Footnote: GRADELY, or GRAITHLY, is\nan old word which meant DECENT or COMELY.] foot like that. Will ye up,\nlass, and ride behind me?\"\n\nBut, perhaps she did not admire Mr. Grimes' look and voice; for she\nanswered quietly:\n\n\"No, thank you; I'd sooner walk with your little lad here.\"\n\n\"You may please yourself,\" growled Grimes, and went on smoking.\n\nSo she walked beside Tom, and talked to him, and asked him where he\nlived, and what he knew, and all about himself, till Tom thought he had\nnever met such a pleasant-spoken woman. And she asked him, at last,\nwhether he said his prayers! and seemed sad when he told her that he\nknew no prayers to say.\n\nThen he asked her where she lived, and she said far away by the sea. And\nTom asked her about the sea; and she told him how it rolled and roared\nover the rocks in winter nights, and lay still in the bright summer\ndays, for the children to bathe and play in it; and many a story more,\ntill Tom longed to go and see the sea, and bathe in it likewise.\n\nAt last, at the bottom of a hill, they came to a spring; a real North\ncountry fountain, like one of those in Sicily or Greece, where the old\nheathen fancied the nymphs [Footnote: The nymphs, according to the\nancient Greeks, were divinities in the shape of beautiful maidens, who\nlived in the woods or in springs and streams.] sat cooling themselves\nthe hot summer's day, while the shepherds peeped at them from behind the\nbushes. Out of a low cave of rock, at the foot of a limestone crag, the\ngreat fountain rose, quelling, and bubbling, and gurgling, so clear that\nyou could not tell where the water ended and the air began; and ran away\nunder the road, a stream large enough to turn a mill; among blue\ngeranium, and golden globeflower, and wild raspberry, and the bird\ncherry with its tassels of snow. [Footnote: These are English flowers,\nbut you probably know some of them. The wild geranium, for instance,\nwith its pinkish-purple flowers, is common in our woods. The globeflower\nis of rather a pale yellow, and its petals curl in so that it looks like\na ball.]\n\nAnd there Grimes stopped and looked; and Tom looked, too. Tom was\nwondering whether anything lived in that dark cave, and came out at\nnight to fly in the meadows. But Grimes was not wondering at all.\nWithout a word, he got off his donkey, and clambered over the low road\nwall, and knelt down, and began dipping his ugly head into the spring--\nand very dirty he made it.\n\nTom was picking the flowers as fast as he could. The Irishwoman helped\nhim, and showed him how to tie them up; and a very pretty nosegay they\nhad made between them. But when he saw Grimes actually wash, he stopped,\nquite astonished; and when Grimes had finished, and began shaking his\nears to dry them, he said:\n\n\"Why, master, I never saw you do that before.\"\n\n\"Nor will again, most likely. 'Twasn't for cleanliness I did it, but for\ncoolness. I'd be ashamed to want washing every week or so, like any\nsmutty collier lad.\"\n\n\"I wish I might go and dip my head in,\" said poor little Tom. \"It must\nbe as good as putting it under the town pump; and there is no beadle\nhere to drive a chap away.\"\n\n\"Thou come along,\" said Grimes; \"what dost want with washing thyself?\nThou did not drink half a gallon of beer last night, like me.\"\n\n\"I don't care for you,\" said naughty Tom, and ran down to the stream,\nand began washing his face.\n\nGrimes was very sulky, because the woman preferred Tom's company to his;\nso he dashed at him with horrid words, and tore him up from his knees,\nand began beating him. But Tom was accustomed to that, and got his head\nsafe between Mr. Grimes' legs, and kicked his shins with all his might.\n\n\"Are you not ashamed of yourself, Thomas Grimes?\" cried the Irishwoman\nover the wall.\n\nGrimes looked up, startled at her knowing his name; but all he answered\nwas, \"No, nor never was yet\"; and went on beating Tom.\n\n\"True for you. If you had ever been ashamed of yourself, you would have\ngone over into Vendale long ago.\"\n\n\"What do you know about Vendale?\" shouted Grimes; but he left off\nbeating Tom.\n\n\"I know about Vendale, and about you, too. I know, for instance, what\nhappened in Aldermire Copse, by night, two years ago come Martinmas.\"\n\n\"You do?\" shouted Grimes; and leaving Tom, he climbed up over the wall,\nand faced the woman. Tom thought he was going to strike her; but she\nlooked him too full and fierce in the face for that.\n\n\"Yes; I was there,\" said the Irishwoman quietly.\n\n\"You are no Irishwoman, by your speech,\" said Grimes, after many bad\nwords.\n\n\"Never mind who I am. I saw what I saw; and if you strike that boy\nagain, I can tell what I know.\"\n\nGrimes seemed quite cowed, and got on his donkey without another word.\n\n\"Stop!\" said the Irishwoman. \"I have one more word for you both; for you\nwill both see me again before all is over. THOSE THAT WISH TO BE CLEAN,\nCLEAN THEY WILL BE; AND THOSE THAT WISH TO BE FOUL, FOUL THEY WILL BE.\nREMEMBER.\"\n\nAnd she turned away, and through a gate into the meadow. Grimes stood\nstill a moment, like a man who had been stunned. Then he rushed after\nher, shouting, \"You come back.\" But when he got into the meadow, the\nwoman was not there.\n\nHad she hidden away? There was no place to hide in. But Grimes looked\nabout, and Tom also, for he was as puzzled as Grimes himself at her\ndisappearing so suddenly; but look where they would, she was not there.\n\nGrimes came back again, as silent as a post, for he was a little\nfrightened; and, getting on his donkey, filled a fresh pipe, and smoked\naway, leaving Tom in peace.\n\nAnd now they had gone three miles and more, and came to Sir John's lodge\ngates. Grimes rang at the gate, and out came a keeper [Footnote: A\nkeeper is a man appointed, on a large estate, to see that no one\ntrespasses on the grounds or poaches the game.] on the spot, and opened.\n\n\"I was told to expect thee,\" he said. \"Now thou'lt be so good as to keep\nto the main avenue, and not let me find a hare or a rabbit on thee when\nthou comest back. I shall look sharp for one, I tell thee.\"\n\n[Illustration.]\n\n\"Not if it's in the bottom of the soot bag,\" quoth Grimes, and at that\nhe laughed; and the keeper laughed and said: \"If that's thy sort, I may\nas well walk up with thee to the hall.\"\n\n\"I think thou best had. It's thy business to see after thy game, man,\nand not mine.\"\n\nSo the keeper went with them; and, to Tom's surprise, he and Grimes\nchatted together all the way quite pleasantly. He did not know that a\nkeeper is only a poacher turned outside in, and a poacher a keeper\nturned inside out.\n\nThey walked up a great lime avenue, a full mile long, and between their\nstems Tom peeped trembling at the horns of the sleeping deer, which\nstood up among the ferns. Tom had never seen such enormous trees, and as\nhe looked up he fancied that the blue sky rested on their heads. But he\nwas puzzled very much by a strange murmuring noise, which followed them\nall the way. So much puzzled, that at last he took courage to ask the\nkeeper what it was.\n\nHe spoke very civilly, and called him Sir, for he was horribly afraid of\nhim, which pleased the keeper, and he told him that they were the bees\nabout the lime flowers.\n\n\"What are bees?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"What make honey.\"\n\n\"What is honey?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"Thou hold thy noise,\" said Grimes.\n\n\"Let the boy be,\" said the keeper. \"He's a civil young chap now, and\nthat's more than he'll be long if he bides with thee.\"\n\nGrimes laughed, for he took that for a compliment.\n\n\"I wish I were a keeper,\" said Tom, \"to live in such a beautiful place,\nand wear green velveteens, and have a real dog-whistle at my button,\nlike you.\"\n\nThe keeper laughed; he was a kind-hearted fellow enough.\n\n\"Let well alone, lad, and ill too at times. Thy life's safer than mine\nat all events, eh, Mr. Grimes?\"\n\nAnd Grimes laughed again, and then the two men began talking quite low.\nTom could hear, though, that it was about some poaching fight; and at\nlast Grimes said surlily, \"Hast thou anything against me?\"\n\n\"Not now.\"\n\n\"Then don't ask me any questions till thou hast, for I am a man of\nhonour.\"\n\nAnd at that they both laughed again, and thought it a very good joke.\n\nAnd by this time they were come up to the great iron gates in front of\nthe house; and Tom stared through them at the rhododendrons and azaleas,\nwhich were all in flower; and then at the house itself, and wondered how\nmany chimneys there were in it, and how long ago it was built, and what\nwas the man's name that built it, and whether he got much money for his\njob.\n\n[Illustration: HARTHOVER PLACE.]\n\nBut Tom and his master did not go in through the great iron gates, as if\nthey had been dukes or bishops, but round the back way, and a very long\nway round it was; and into a little back door, where the ash-boy let\nthem in, yawning horribly; and then in a passage the housekeeper met\nthem, in such a flowered chintz dressing gown, that Tom mistook her for\nMy Lady herself, and she gave Grimes solemn orders about \"You will take\ncare of this, and take care of that,\" as if he was going up the\nchimneys, and not Tom. And Grimes listened, and said every now and then,\nunder his voice, \"You'll mind that, you little beggar?\" and Tom did\nmind, all at least that he could. And then the housekeeper turned them\ninto a grand room, all covered up in sheets of brown paper, and bade\nthem begin, in a lofty and tremendous voice; and so after a whimper or\ntwo, and a kick from his master, into the grate Tom went, and up the\nchimney, while a housemaid stayed in the room to watch the furniture.\n\nHow many chimneys Tom swept I cannot say; but he swept so many that he\ngot quite tired, and puzzled, too, for they were not like the town flues\nto which he was accustomed, but such as you would find--if you would\nonly get up them and look, which perhaps you would not like to do--in\nold country houses; large and crooked chimneys, which had been altered\nagain and again, till they ran one into another. So Tom fairly lost his\nway in them; not that he cared much for that, though he was in pitch\ndarkness, for he was as much at home in a chimney as a mole is\nunderground; but at last, coming down as he thought the right chimney,\nhe came down the wrong one, and found himself standing on the hearthrug\nin a room the like of which he had never seen before.\n\nHe had never been in gentlefolks' rooms but when the carpets were all\nup, and the curtains down, and the furniture huddled together under a\ncloth, and the pictures covered with aprons and dusters; and he had\noften enough wondered what the rooms were like when they were all ready\nfor the quality to sit in. And now he saw, and he thought the sight very\npretty.\n\nThe room was all dressed in white,--white window curtains, white bed\ncurtains, white furniture and white walls, with just a few lines of pink\nhere and there. The carpet was all over gay little flowers and the walls\nwere hung with pictures in gilt frames, which amused Tom very much.\nThere were pictures of ladies and gentlemen, and pictures of horses and\ndogs. The horses he liked; but the dogs he did not care for much, for\nthere were no bulldogs among them, not even a terrier. But the two\npictures which took his fancy most were, one a man in long garments,\nwith little children and their mothers round him, who was laying his\nhand upon the children's heads. That was a very pretty picture, Tom\nthought, to hang in a lady's room. For he could see that it was a lady's\nroom by the dresses which lay about.\n\nThe other picture was that of a man nailed to a cross, which surprised\nTom much. He fancied that he had seen something like it in a shop\nwindow. But why was it there? \"Poor man,\" thought Tom, \"and he looks so\nkind and quiet.\" But why should the lady have such a sad picture as that\nin her room? Perhaps it was some kinsman of hers, who had been murdered\nby the savages in foreign parts, and she kept it there for a\nremembrance. And Tom felt sad, and awed, and turned to look at something\nelse. The next thing he saw, and that, too, puzzled him, was a washing-\nstand, with ewers and basins, and soap and brushes, and towels, and a\nlarge bath full of clean water--what a heap of things all for washing!\n\"She must be a very dirty lady,\" thought Tom, \"by my master's rule, to\nwant as much scrubbing as all that. But she must be very cunning to put\nthe dirt out of the way so well afterwards, for I don't see a speck\nabout the room, not even on the very towels.\"\n\nAnd then, looking toward the bed, he saw that dirty lady, and held his\nbreath with astonishment.\n\nUnder the snow-white coverlet, upon the snow-white pillow, lay the most\nbeautiful little girl that Tom had ever seen. Her cheeks were almost as\nwhite as the pillow, and her hair was like threads of gold spread all\nabout over the bed. She might have been as old as Tom, or maybe a year\nor two older; but Tom did not think of that. He thought only of her\ndelicate skin and golden hair, and wondered whether she was a real live\nperson, or one of the wax dolls he had seen in the shops. But when he\nsaw her breathe, he made up his mind that she was alive, and stood\nstaring at her, as if she had been an angel out of heaven.\n\nNo. She cannot be dirty. She never could have been dirty, thought Tom to\nhimself; and then he thought, \"And are all people like that when they\nare washed?\" And he looked at his own wrist, and tried to rub the soot\noff, and wondered whether it ever would come off. \"Certainly, I should\nlook much prettier then, if I grew at all like her.\"\n\nAnd looking round, he suddenly saw, standing close to him, a little,\nugly, black, ragged figure, with bleared eyes and grinning white teeth.\nHe turned on it angrily. What did such a little black ape want in that\nsweet young lady's room? And behold, it was himself, reflected in a\ngreat mirror, the like of which Tom had never seen before.\n\nAnd Tom, for the first time in his life, found out that he was dirty;\nand burst into tears with shame and anger; and turned to sneak up the\nchimney again and hide; and upset the fender and threw the fire irons\ndown, with a noise as of ten thousand tin kettles tied to ten thousand\nmad dogs' tails.\n\nUp jumped the little white lady in her bed, and seeing Tom, screamed as\nshrill as any peacock. In rushed a stout old nurse from the next room,\nand seeing Tom likewise, made up her mind that he had come to rob,\nplunder, destroy, and burn, and dashed at him, as he lay over the\nfender, so fast that she caught him by the jacket.\n\nBut she did not hold him. Tom had been in a policeman's hands many a\ntime, and out of them, too, what is more; and he would have been ashamed\nto face his friends forever if he had been stupid enough to be caught by\nan old woman; so he doubled under the good lady's arm, across the room,\nand out of the window in a moment.\n\nHe did not need to drop out, though he would have done so bravely\nenough; for all under the window spread a tree, with great leaves and\nsweet white flowers, almost as big as his head. It was magnolia, I\nsuppose; but Tom knew nothing about that, and cared less; for down the\ntree he went, like a cat, and across the garden lawn, and over the iron\nrailings, and up the park towards the wood, leaving the old nurse to\nscream murder and fire at the window.\n\nThe under gardener, mowing, saw Tom, and threw down his scythe; caught\nhis leg in it, and cut his shin open, whereby he kept his bed for a\nweek; but in his hurry he never knew it, and gave chase to poor Tom. The\ndairymaid heard the noise, got the churn between her knees, and tumbled\nover it, spilling all the cream; and yet she jumped up, and gave chase\nto Tom. A groom cleaning Sir John's hack at the stables let him go\nloose, whereby he kicked himself lame in five minutes; but he ran out\nand gave chase to Tom. Grimes upset the soot sack in the new-gravelled\nyard, and spoilt it all utterly; but he ran out and gave chase to Tom.\nThe old steward opened the park gate in such a hurry, that he hung up\nhis pony's chin upon the spikes, and, for aught I know, it hangs there\nstill; but he jumped off, and gave chase to Tom. The ploughman left his\nhorses at the headland, and one jumped over the fence, and pulled the\nother into the ditch, plough and all; but he ran on, and gave chase to\nTom. Sir John looked out of his study window (for he was an early old\ngentleman) and up at the nurse, and a martin dropped mud in his eye, so\nthat he had at last to send for the doctor; and yet he ran out, and gave\nchase to Tom. The Irishwoman, too, was walking up to the house to beg,--\nshe must have got round by some byway,--but she threw away her bundle,\nand gave chase to Tom likewise. Only my lady did not give chase; for\nwhen she had put her head out of the window, her night-wig fell into the\ngarden, and she had to ring up her lady's maid, and send her down for it\nprivately, which quite put her out of the running, so that she came\nnowhere, and is consequently not placed.\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nIn a word, never was there heard at Hall Place--not even when the fox\nwas killed in the conservatory, among acres of broken glass, and tons of\nsmashed flowerpots--such a noise, row, hubbub, babel, shindy,\nhullabaloo, and total contempt of dignity, repose, and order, as that\nday, when Grimes, the gardener, the groom, the dairymaid, Sir John, the\nsteward, the ploughman, and the Irishwoman, all ran up the park,\nshouting \"Stop thief,\" in the belief that Tom had at least a thousand\npounds' worth of jewels in his empty pockets; and the very magpies and\njays followed Tom up, screaking and screaming, as though he were a\nhunted fox, beginning to droop his brush.\n\nAnd all the while poor Tom paddled up the park with his little bare\nfeet, like a small black gorilla fleeing to the forest. Alas for him!\nthere was no big father gorilla therein to take his part--to scratch out\nthe gardener's inside with one paw, toss the dairymaid into a tree with\nanother, and wrench off Sir John's head with a third, while he cracked\nthe groom's skull with his teeth as easily as if it had been a cocoanut\nor a paving stone.\n\nTom, of course, made for the woods. He had never been in a wood in his\nlife; but he was sharp enough to know that he might hide in a bush, or\nswarm up a tree, and, altogether, had more chance there than in the\nopen.\n\nBut when he got into the wood, he found it a very different sort of\nplace from what he had fancied. He pushed into a thick cover of\nrhododendrons, and found himself at once caught in a trap. The boughs\nlaid hold of his legs and arms, poked him in his face and his stomach,\nmade him shut his eyes tight (though that was no great loss, for he\ncould not see at best a yard before his nose); and when he got through\nthe rhododendrons, the hassock-grass and sedges tumbled him over, and\ncut his poor little fingers afterwards most spitefully; the birches\nbirched him as soundly as if he had been a nobleman at Eton, [Footnote:\nEton is one of the most famous of English public schools. The young\nBritish nobles here meet and associate with the young commoners in the\nmost democratic manner.] and over the face, too (which is not fair\nswishing, as all brave boys will agree).\n\n\"I must get out of this,\" thought Tom, \"or I shall stay here till\nsomebody comes to help me--which is just what I don't want.\"\n\nBut how to get out was the difficult matter. And indeed I don't think he\nwould ever have got out at all, but have stayed there till the cock-\nrobins covered him with leaves, if he had not suddenly run his head\nagainst a wall.\n\nNow running your head against a wall is not pleasant, especially if it\nis a loose wall, with the stones all set on edge, and a sharp-cornered\none hits you between the eyes and makes you see all manner of beautiful\nstars. The stars are very beautiful, certainly, but unfortunately they\ngo in the twenty-thousandth part of a split second, and the pain which\ncomes after them does not. And so Tom hurt his head; but he was a brave\nboy, and did not mind that a penny. He guessed that over the wall the\ncover would end; and up it he went, and over like a squirrel.\n\nAnd there he was, out on the great grouse moors, which the country folk\ncalled Harthover Fell--[Footnote: FELL is the name given, in parts of\nEngland, to moors, or stretches of high, open country of any sort.]\nheather and bog and rock, stretching away and up, up to the very sky.\n\nNow, Tom was a cunning little fellow--as cunning as an old Exmoor\n[Footnote: Exmoor is a region in Somersetshire and Devonshire, in\nEngland. It was formerly a forest, but is now a moor, and is a favorite\nresort of the deer.] stag. Why not? Though he was but ten years old, he\nhad lived longer than most stags, and had more wits to start with into\nthe bargain.\n\nHe knew as well as a stag that if he backed he might throw the hounds\nout. So the first thing he did when he was over the wall was to make the\nneatest double, sharp to his right, and run along under the wall for\nnearly half a mile. Meanwhile the gardener and the groom, the dairymaid\nand the ploughman, and all the hue and cry together, went on ahead half\na mile in the very opposite direction, and inside the wall, leaving him\na mile off on the outside; while Tom heard their shouts die away in the\nwoods and chuckled to himself merrily.\n\nAt last he came to a dip in the land, and went to the bottom of it, and\nthen he turned bravely away from the wall and up the moor; for he knew\nthat he had put a hill between him and his enemies, and could go on\nwithout their seeing him.\n\nBut the Irishwoman, alone of them all, had seen which way Tom went. She\nhad kept ahead of every one the whole time; and yet she neither walked\nnor ran. She went along quite smoothly and gracefully, while her feet\ntwinkled past each other so fast that you could not see which was\nforemost; till every one asked the other who the strange woman was; and\nall agreed, for want of anything better to say, that she must be in\nleague with Tom.\n\nBut when she came to the plantation, they lost sight of her; and they\ncould do no less. For she went quietly over the wall after Tom, and\nfollowed him wherever he went. Sir John and the rest saw no more of her;\nand out of sight was out of mind.\n\nAnd now Tom was right away into the heather, over a moor growing more\nand more broken and hilly, but not so rough but that little Tom could\njog along well enough, and find time, too, to stare about at the strange\nplace, which was like a new world to him.\n\nSo Tom went on and on, he hardly knew why; but he liked the great, wide,\nstrange place, and the cool, fresh, bracing air. But he went more and\nmore slowly as he got higher up the hill; for now the ground grew very\nbad indeed. Instead of soft turf and springy heather, he met great\npatches of flat limestone rock, just like ill-made pavements, with deep\ncracks between the stones and ledges, filled with ferns; so he had to\nhop from stone to stone, and now and then he slipped in between, and\nhurt his little bare toes, though they were tolerably tough ones; but\nstill he would go on and up, he could not tell why.\n\nWhat would Tom have said if he had seen, walking over the moor behind\nhim, the very same Irishwoman who had taken his part upon the road? But\nwhether it was that he looked too little behind him, or whether it was\nthat she kept out of sight behind the rocks and knolls, he never saw\nher, though she saw him.\n\nAnd now he began to get a little hungry, and very thirsty; for he had\nrun a long way, and the sun had risen high in heaven, and the rock was\nas hot as an oven, and the air danced reels over it, as it does over a\nlimekiln, till everything round seemed quivering and melting in the\nglare.\n\nBut he could see nothing to eat anywhere, and still less to drink.\n\nSo he went on and on, till his head spun round with the heat, and he\nthought he heard church bells ringing, a long way off.\n\n\"Ah!\" he thought, \"where there is a church there will be houses and\npeople; and, perhaps, some one will give me a bit and a sup.\" So he set\noff again, to look for the church; for he was sure that he heard the\nbells quite plain.\n\nAnd so it was; for from the top of the mountain he could see--what could\nhe not see?\n\nAnd in a minute more, when he looked round, he stopped again, and said,\n\"Why, what a big place the world is!\"\n\nBehind him, far below, was Harthover, and the dark woods, and the\nshining salmon river; and on his left, far below, was the town, and the\nsmoking chimneys of the collieries; and far, far away, the river widened\nto the shining sea; and little white specks, which were ships, lay on\nits bosom. Before him lay, spread out like a map, great plains, and\nfarms, and villages, amid dark knots of trees. They all seemed at his\nvery feet; but he had sense to see that they were long miles away.\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nAnd to his right rose moor after moor, hill after hill, till they faded\naway, blue into blue sky. But between him and those moors, and really at\nhis very feet, lay something, to which, as soon as Tom saw it, he\ndetermined to go; for that was the place for him.\n\nA deep, deep green and rocky valley, very narrow, and filled with wood;\nbut through the wood, hundreds of feet below him, he could see a clear\nstream glance. Oh, if he could but get down to that stream! Then, by the\nstream, he saw the roof of a little cottage, and a little garden set out\nin squares and beds. And there was a tiny little red thing moving in the\ngarden, no bigger than a fly. As Tom looked down, he saw that it was a\nwoman in a red petticoat. Ah! perhaps she would give him something to\neat. And there were the church bells ringing again. Surely there must be\na village down there. Well, nobody would know him, or what had happened\nat the Place. The news could not have got there yet, even if Sir John\nhad set all the policemen in the country after him; and he could get\ndown there in five minutes.\n\nTom was quite right about the hue and cry not having got thither; for he\nhad come, without knowing it, the best part of ten miles from Harthover;\nbut he was wrong about getting down in five minutes, for the cottage was\nmore than a mile off, and a good thousand feet below.\n\nHowever, down he went, like a brave little man as he was, though he was\nvery footsore, and tired, and hungry, and thirsty; while the church\nbells rang so loud, he began to think that they must be inside his own\nhead, and the river chimed and tinkled far below.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nA mile off, and a thousand feet down. So Tom found it, though it seemed\nas if he could have chucked a pebble onto the back of the woman in the\nred petticoat who was weeding in the garden, or even across the dale to\nthe rocks beyond. For the bottom of the valley was just one field broad,\nand on the other side ran the stream; and above it, gray crag, gray\ndown, gray stair, gray moor walled up to heaven.\n\nA quiet, silent, rich, happy place; a narrow crack cut deep into the\nearth; so deep, and so out of the way, that the bad bogies can hardly\nfind it out. The name of the place is Vendale.\n\nSo Tom went to go down; and first he went down three hundred feet of\nsteep heather, mixed up with loose brown gritstone, as rough as a file;\nwhich was not pleasant to his poor little heels, as he came bump, stump,\njump, down the steep. And still he thought he could throw a stone into\nthe garden.\n\nThen he went down three hundred feet of limestone terraces, one below\nthe other, as straight as if a carpenter had ruled them with his ruler\nand then cut them out with his chisel. There was no heath there, but--\n\nFirst, a little grass slope, covered with the prettiest flowers,\nrockrose and saxifrage, and thyme and basil, and all sorts of sweet\nherbs.\n\nThen bump down a two-foot step of limestone.\n\nThen another bit of grass and flowers.\n\nThen bump down a one-foot step.\n\nThen another bit of grass and flowers for fifty yards, as steep as the\nhouse-roof, where he had to slide down.\n\nThen another step of stone, ten feet high; and there he had to stop\nhimself, and crawl along the edge to find a crack; for if he had rolled\nover, he would have rolled right into the old woman's garden, and\nfrightened her out of her wits.\n\nThen, when he had found a dark, narrow crack, full of green stalked\nfern, such as hangs in the basket in the drawing-room, and had crawled\ndown through it, with knees and elbows, as he would down a chimney,\nthere was another grass slope, and another step, and so on, till--oh,\ndear me! I wish it was all over; and so did he. And yet he thought he\ncould throw a stone into the old woman's garden.\n\nAt last he came to a bank of beautiful shrubs; whitebeam, with its great\nsilver-backed leaves, and mountain ash, and oak; and below them cliff\nand crag, cliff and crag, with great beds of crown ferns and wood sedge;\nwhile through the shrubs he could see the stream sparkling, and hear it\nmurmur on the white pebbles. He did not know that it was three hundred\nfeet below.\n\nAnd all the while he never saw the Irishwoman coming down behind him.\n\nBut he was getting terribly tired now. The burning sun on the fells had\nsucked him up; but the damp heat of the woody crag sucked him up still\nmore; and the perspiration ran out of the ends of his fingers and toes,\nand washed him cleaner than he had been for a whole year. But, of\ncourse, he dirtied everything terribly as he went. There has been a\ngreat black smudge all down the crag ever since. And there have been\nmore black beetles in Vendale since than ever were known before; all, of\ncourse, owing to Tom's having blacked the original papa of them all,\njust as he was setting off to be married, with a sky-blue coat and\nscarlet leggings, as smart as a gardener's dog with a polyanthus in his\nmouth.\n\nAt last he got to the bottom. But, behold, it was not the bottom--as\npeople usually find when they are coming down a mountain. For at the\nfoot of the crag were heaps and heaps of fallen limestone of every size\nfrom that of your head to that of a stage-waggon, with holes between\nthem full of sweet heath fern; and before Tom got through them, he was\nout in the bright sunshine again; and then he felt, once for all and\nsuddenly, as people generally do, that he was b-e-a-t, beat. You must\nexpect to be beat a few times in your life, little man, if you live such\na life as a man ought to live, let you be as strong and healthy as you\nmay; and when you are, you will find it a very ugly feeling. I hope that\nthat day you may have a stout, staunch friend by you who is not beat;\nfor, if you have not, you had best lie where you are, and wait for\nbetter times, as poor Tom did.\n\nHe could not get on. The sun was burning, and yet he felt chill all\nover. He was quite empty, and yet he felt quite sick. There was but two\nhundred yards of smooth pasture between him and the cottage, and yet he\ncould not walk down it. He could hear the stream murmuring only one\nfield beyond it, and yet it seemed to him as if it was a hundred miles\noff.\n\nHe lay down on the grass till the beetles ran over him, and the flies\nsettled on his nose. I don't know when he would have got up again, if\nthe gnats and the midges had not taken compassion on him. But the gnats\nblew their trumpets so loud in his ear, and the midges nibbled so at his\nhands and face wherever they could find a place free from soot, that at\nlast he woke up, and stumbled away, down over a low wall, and into a\nnarrow road, and up to the cottage door.\n\nAnd a neat, pretty cottage it was, with clipped yew hedges all round the\ngarden, and yews inside, too, cut into peacocks and trumpets and teapots\nand all kinds of queer shapes, And out of the open door came a noise\nlike that of the frogs, when they know that it is going to be scorching\nhot to-morrow--and how they know that I don't know, and you don't know,\nand nobody knows,\n\nHe came slowly up to the open door, which was all hung round with\nclematis and roses; and then peeped in, half afraid,\n\nAnd there sat by the empty fireplace, which was filled with a pot of\nsweet herbs, the nicest old woman that ever was seen, in her red\npetticoat, and short dimity bedgown, and clean white cap, with a black\nsilk handkerchief over it, tied under her chin. At her feet sat the\ngrandfather of all the cats; and opposite her sat, on two benches,\ntwelve or fourteen neat, rosy, chubby little children, learning their\nChris-cross-row; [Footnote: Chris-cross-row is an old name for the\nalphabet] and gabble enough they made about it.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD DAME LOOKED AT TOM]\n\nSuch a pleasant cottage it was, with a shiny clean stone floor, and\ncurious old prints on the walls, and an old black oak sideboard full of\nbright pewter and brass dishes, and a cuckoo clock in the corner, which\nbegan shouting as soon as Tom appeared; not that it was frightened at\nTom, but that it was just eleven o'clock.\n\nAll the children started at Tom's dirty black figure,--the girls began\nto cry, and the boys began to laugh, and all pointed at him rudely\nenough; but Tom was too tired to care for that.\n\n\"What art thou, and what dost want?\" cried the old dame. \"A chimney-\nsweep! Away with thee! I'll have no sweeps here.\"\n\n\"Water,\" said poor little Tom, quite faint.\n\n\"Water? There's plenty i' the beck,\" she said, quite sharply.\n\n\"But I can't get there; I'm most clemmed with hunger and drought.\" And\nTom sank down upon the doorstep, and laid his head against the post.\n\nAnd the old dame looked at him through her spectacles one minute, and\ntwo, and three; and then she said, \"He's sick; and a bairn's a bairn,\nsweep or none.\"\n\n\"Water,\" said Tom.\n\n\"God forgive me!\" and she put by her spectacles, and rose, and came to\nTom. \"Water's bad for thee; I'll give thee milk.\" And she toddled off\ninto the next room, and brought a cup of milk and a bit of bread.\n\nTom drank the milk off at one draught, and then looked up, revived.\n\n\"Where didst come from?\" said the dame.\n\n\"Over Fell, there,\" said Tom, and pointed up into the sky.\n\n\"Over Harthover? and down Lewthwaite Crag? Art sure thou are not lying?\"\n\n\"Why should I?\" said Tom, and leant his head against the post.\n\n\"And how got ye up there?\"\n\n\"I came over from the Place;\" and Tom was so tired and desperate he had\nno heart or time to think of a story, so he told all the truth in a few\nwords.\n\n\"Bless thy little heart! And thou hast not been stealing, then?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nBless thy little heart; and I'll warrant not. Why, God's guided the\nbairn, because he was innocent! Away from the Place, and over Harthover\nFell, and down Lewthwaite Crag! Who ever heard the like, if God hadn't\nled him? Why dost not eat thy bread?\"\n\n\"I can't.\"\n\n\"It's good enough, for I made it myself.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" said Tom, and he laid his head on his knees, and then asked:\n\n\"Is it Sunday?\"\n\n\"No, then; why should it be?\"\n\n\"Because I hear the church bells ringing so.\"\n\n\"Bless thy pretty heart! The bairn's sick. Come wi' me, and I'll hap\nthee up somewhere. If thou wert a bit cleaner, I'd put thee in my own\nbed, for the Lord's sake. But come along here.\"\n\nBut when Tom tried to get up, he was so tired and giddy that she had to\nhelp him and lead him.\n\nShe put him in an outhouse, upon soft, sweet hay and an old rug, and\nbade him sleep off his walk, and she would come to him when school was\nover, in an hour's time.\n\nAnd so she went in again, expecting Tom to fall fast asleep at once.\n\nBut Tom did not fall asleep.\n\nInstead of it he turned and tossed and kicked about in the strangest\nway, and felt so hot all over that he longed to get into the river and\ncool himself; and then he fell half asleep, and dreamt that he heard the\nlittle white lady crying to him, \"Oh, you're so dirty; go and be\nwashed\"; and then that he heard the Irishwoman saying, \"Those that wish\nto be clean, clean they will be.\" And then he heard the church bells\nring so loud, close to him too, that he was sure it must be Sunday, in\nspite of what the old dame had said; and he would go to church, and see\nwhat a church was like inside, for he had never been in one, poor little\nfellow, in all his life. But the people would never let him come in, all\nover soot and dirt like that. He must go to the river and wash first.\nAnd he said out loud again and again, though being half asleep he did\nnot know it, \"I must be clean, I must be clean.\"\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nAnd all of a sudden he found himself, not in the outhouse on the hay,\nbut in the middle of a meadow, over the road, with the stream just\nbefore him, saying continually, \"I must be clean, I mast be clean.\" He\nhad got there on his own legs, between sleep and awake, as children will\noften get out of bed, and go about the room, when they are not quite\nwell. But he was not a bit surprised, and went on to the bank of the\nbrook, and lay down on the grass, and looked into the clear, clear,\nlimestone water, with every pebble at the bottom bright and clean, while\nthe little silver trout dashed about in fright at the sight of his black\nface; and he dipped his feet in and found it so cool, cool, cool; and he\nsaid, \"I will be a fish; I will swim in the water; I must be clean, I\nmust be clean.\"\n\nSo he pulled off all his clothes in such haste that he tore some of\nthem, which was easy enough with such ragged old things. And he put his\npoor, hot, sore feet into the water; and then his legs; and the farther\nhe went in, the more the church bells rang in his head.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Tom, \"I must be quick and wash myself; the bells are ringing\nquite loud now; and they will stop soon, and then the door will shut,\nand I shall never be able to get in at all.\"\n\nAnd all the while he never saw the Irishwoman, not behind him this time,\nbut before.\n\nFor just before he came to the riverside, she had stept down into the\ncool, clear water; and her shawl and her petticoat floated off her, and\nthe green water weeds floated round her sides, and the white water\nlilies floated round her head, and the fairies of the stream came up\nfrom the bottom and bore her away and down upon their arms; for she was\nthe queen of them all; and perhaps of more besides.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" they asked her.\n\n\"I have been smoothing sick folks' pillows, and whispering sweet dreams\ninto their ears; opening cottage casements, to let out the stifling air;\ncoaxing little children away from gutters and foul pools where fever\nbreeds; turning women from the gin-shop door, and staying men's hands as\nthey were going to strike their wives; doing all I can to help those who\nwill not help themselves; and little enough that is, and weary work for\nme. But I have brought you a new little brother, and watched him safe\nall the way here.\"\n\nThen all the fairies laughed for joy at the thought that they had a\nlittle brother coming.\n\n\"But mind, maidens, he must not see you, or know that you are here. He\nis but a savage now, and like the beasts which perish; and from the\nbeasts which perish he must learn. So you must not play with him, or\nspeak to him, or let him see you; but only keep him from being harmed.\"\n\nThen the fairies were sad, because they could not play with their new\nbrother; but they always did what they were told. And their queen\nfloated away down the river; and whither she went, thither she came.\n\nBut all this Tom, of course, never saw or heard; and perhaps if he had\nit would have made little difference in the story; for he was so hot and\nthirsty, and longed so to be clean for once, that he tumbled himself as\nquick as he could into the clear, cool stream.\n\nAnd he had not been in it two minutes before he fell fast asleep, into\nthe quietest, sunniest, coziest sleep that ever he had in his life; and\nhe dreamt about the green meadows by which he had walked that morning,\nand the tall elm trees and the sleeping cows; and after that he dreamt\nof nothing at all.\n\nThe reason of his falling into such a delightful sleep is very simple;\nand yet hardly any one has found it out. It was merely that the fairies\ntook him.\n\nThe kind old dame came back at twelve, when school was over, to look at\nTom; but there was no Tom there. She looked about for his footprints;\nbut the ground was so hard that there was no slot, as they say in dear\nold North Devon.\n\nSo the old dame went in again, quite sulky, thinking that little Tom had\ntricked her with a false story, and shammed ill, and then run away\nagain.\n\n  * * * * *\n\nWhen Sir John and the rest of them had run themselves out of breath, and\nlost Tom, they went back again, looking very foolish. And they looked\nmore foolish still when Sir John heard more of the story from the nurse;\nand more foolish still, again, when they heard the whole story from Miss\nEllie, the little lady in white.\n\nAll she had seen was a poor little black chimney-sweep, crying and\nsobbing, and going to get up the chimney again. Of course, she was very\nmuch frightened; and no wonder. But that was all. The boy had taken\nnothing in the room; by the mark of his little sooty feet, they could\nsee that he had never been off the hearth rug till the nurse caught hold\nof him. It was all a mistake.\n\nSo Sir John told Grimes to go home, and promised him five shillings if\nhe would bring the boy quietly up to him, without beating him, that he\nmight be sure of the truth. For he took it for granted, and Grimes too,\nthat Tom had made his way home.\n\nBut no Tom came back to Mr. Grimes that evening; and he went to the\npolice office, to tell them to look out for the boy. But no Tom was\nheard of.\n\nSo Mr. Grimes came up to Harthover next day with a very sour face; but\nwhen he got there, Sir John was over the hills and far away; and Mr.\nGrimes had to sit in the outer servants' hall all day, and drink strong\nale to wash away his sorrows; and they were washed away long before Sir\nJohn came back. For good Sir John had slept very badly that night; and\nhe said to his lady, \"My dear, the boy must have got over into the\ngrouse moors, and lost himself; and he lies very heavily on my\nconscience, poor little lad. But I know what I will do.\"\n\nSo, at five the next morning up he got, and bade them bring his shooting\npony, and the keeper to come on his pony, and the huntsman, and the\nfirst whip, and the second whip, and the underkeeper with the bloodhound\nin a leash--a great dog as tall as a calf, of the colour of a gravel\nwalk, with mahogany ears and nose, and a throat like a church bell. They\ntook him up to the place where Tom had gone into the wood; and there the\nhound lifted up his mighty voice, and told them all he knew.\n\nThen he took them to the place where Tom had climbed the wall; and they\nshoved it down, and all got through.\n\nAnd then the wise dog took them over the moor, and over the fells, step\nby step, very slowly; for the scent was a day old, you know, and very\nlight from the heat and drought. But that was why cunning old Sir John\nstarted at five in the morning.\n\nAnd at last he came to the top of Lewthwaite Crag, and there he bayed,\nand looked up in their faces, as much as to say, \"I tell you he is gone\ndown here!\"\n\nThey could hardly believe that Tom would have gone so far; and when they\nlooked at that awful cliff, they could never believe that he would have\ndared to face it. But if the dog said so, it must be true.\n\n\"Heaven forgive us!\" said Sir John. \"If we find him at all, we shall\nfind him lying at the bottom.\"\n\nAnd he slapped his great hand upon his great thigh, and said:\n\n\"Who will go down over Lewthwaite Crag, and see if that boy is alive?\nOh, that I were twenty years younger, and I would go down myself!\" And\nso he would have done, as well as any sweep in the country. Then he\nsaid:\n\n\"Twenty pounds to the man who brings me that boy alive!\" And as was his\nway, what he said he meant.\n\nNow among the lot was a little groom-boy, a very little groom indeed;\nand he was the same who had ridden up the court, and told Tom to come to\nthe Hall; and he said:\n\n\"Twenty pounds or none, I will go down over Lewthwaite Crag, if it's\nonly for the poor boy's sake. For he was as civil a spoken little chap\nas ever climbed a flue.\"\n\nSo down over Lewthwaite Crag he went; a very smart groom he was at the\ntop, and a very shabby one at the bottom; for he tore his gaiters, and\nhe tore his breeches, and he tore his jacket, and he burst his braces,\nand he burst his boots, and he lost his hat, and what was worst of all,\nhe lost his shirt pin, which he prized very much, for it was gold; so it\nwas a really severe loss; but he never saw anything of Tom.\n\nAnd all the while Sir John and the rest were riding round, full three\nmiles to the right, and back again, to get into Vendale, and to the foot\nof the crag.\n\nWhen they came to the old dame's school, all the children came out to\nsee. And the old dame came out too; and when she saw Sir John, she\ncurtsied very low, for she was a tenant of his.\n\n\"Well, dame, and how are you?\" said Sir John.\n\n[Illustration: SIR JOHN SEARCHING FOR TOM]\n\n\"Blessings on you as broad as your back, Harthover,\" says she--she\ndidn't call him Sir John, but only Harthover, for that is the fashion in\nthe North country--\"and welcome into Vendale; but you're no hunting the\nfox this time of the year?\"\n\n\"I am hunting, and strange game too,\" said he.\n\n\"Blessings on your heart, and what makes you look so sad the morn?\"\n\n\"I'm looking for a lost child, a chimney-sweep, that is run away.\"\n\n\"Oh, Harthover, Harthover,\" says she, \"ye were always a just man and a\nmerciful; and ye'll no harm the poor lad if I give you tidings of him?\"\n\n\"Not I, not I, dame. I'm afraid we hunted him out of the house all on a\nmiserable mistake, and the hound has brought him to the top of\nLewthwaite Crag, and--\"\n\nWhereat the old dame broke out crying, without letting him finish his\nstory.\n\n\"So he told me the truth after all, poor little dear! Ah, first thoughts\nare best, and a body's heart'll guide them right, if they will but\nhearken to it.\" And then she told Sir John all.\n\n\"Bring the dog here, and lay him on,\" said Sir John, without another\nword, and he set his teeth very hard.\n\nAnd the dog opened at once; and went away at the back of the cottage,\nover the road, and over the meadow, and through a bit of alder copse;\nand there, upon an alder stump, they saw Tom's clothes lying. And then\nthey knew as much about it all as there was any need to know.\n\nAnd Tom?\n\nAh, now comes the most wonderful part of this wonderful story. Tom, when\nhe woke, for of course he woke--children always wake after they have\nslept exactly as long as is good for them--found himself swimming about\nin the stream, being about four inches, or--that I may be accurate--\n3.87902 inches long, and having round the parotid region of his fauces a\nset of external gills (I hope you understand all the big words) just\nlike those of a sucking eft, which he mistook for a lace frill, till he\npulled at them, found he hurt himself, and made up his mind that they\nwere part of himself, and best left alone. In fact, the fairies had\nturned him into a water baby.\n\nA water baby? You never heard of a water baby? Perhaps not. That is the\nvery reason why this story was written. There are a great many things in\nthe world which you never heard of; and a great many more which nobody\never heard of; and a great many things, too, which nobody will ever hear\nof.\n\nNo water babies, indeed? Why, wise men of old said that everything on\nearth had its double in the water; and you may see that that is, if not\nquite true, still quite as true as most other theories which you are\nlikely to hear for many a day. There are land babies--then why not water\nbabies? ARE THERE NOT WATER RATS, WATER FLIES, WATER CRICKETS, WATER\nCRABS, WATER TORTOISES, WATER SCORPIONS, WATER TIGERS AND SO ON WITHOUT\nEND?\n\nAm I in earnest? Oh dear no! Don't you know that this is a fairy tale,\nand all fun and pretense; and that you are not to believe one word of\nit, even if it is true?\n\nBut at all events, so it happened to Tom. And, therefore, the keeper and\nthe groom, and Sir John made a great mistake, and were very unhappy (Sir\nJohn, at least) without any reason, when they found a black thing in the\nwater, and said it was Tom's body and that he had been drowned. They\nwere utterly mistaken. Tom was quite alive; and cleaner, and merrier,\nthan he had ever been. The fairies had washed him, you see, in the swift\nriver, so thoroughly, that not only his dirt, but his whole husk and\nshell had been washed quite off him, and the pretty little real Tom was\nwashed out of the inside of it, and swam away, as a caddis [Footnote:\nThe caddis worm, while it lives in the water, builds for itself a case\nof stones or grass or shells, all bound together with silk When the time\nfor its transformation is near, the worm seals up with silk both ends of\nits case, and remains withdrawn until it is ready to emerge as a caddis\nfly.] does when its case of stones and silk is bored through, and away\nit goes on its back, paddling to the shore, there to split its skin, and\nfly away as a caperer, on four fawn-coloured wings, with long legs and\nhorns. They are foolish fellows, the caperers, and fly into the candle\nat night, if you leave the door open. We will hope Tom will be wiser,\nnow he has got safe out of his sooty old shell.\n\nBut good Sir John did not understand all this, and he took it into his\nhead that Tom was drowned. When they looked into the empty pockets of\nhis shell, and found no jewels there, nor money--nothing but three\nmarbles, and a brass button with a string to it--then Sir John did\nsomething as like crying as ever he did in his life, and blamed himself\nmore bitterly than he need have done. So he cried, and the groom-boy\ncried, and the huntsman cried, and the dame cried, and the little girl\ncried, and the dairymaid cried, and the old nurse cried (for it was\nsomewhat her fault), and my lady cried, for though people have wigs,\nthat is no reason why they should not have hearts; but the keeper did\nnot cry, though he had been so good-natured to Tom the morning before;\nfor he was so dried up with running after poachers, that you could no\nmore get tears out of him than milk out of leather; and Grimes did not\ncry, for Sir John gave him ten pounds, and he drank it all in a week.\n\nSir John sent, far and wide, to find Tom's father and mother; but he\nmight have looked till Doomsday for them, for one was dead, and the\nother was in Botany Bay. [Footnote: Botany Bay was originally the name\nof a settlement established in New South Wales, in Eastern Australia,\nfor the reception of criminals from England. Later, the name came to be\napplied to any distant colony to which criminals were transported.] And\nthe little girl would not play with her dolls for a whole week, and\nnever forgot poor little Tom. And soon my lady put a pretty little\ntombstone over Tom's shell in the little churchyard in Vendale.\n\nAnd the dame decked it with garlands every Sunday, till she grew so old\nthat she could not stir abroad; then the little children decked it for\nher. And always she sang an old, old song, as she sat spinning what she\ncalled her wedding dress. The children could not understand it, but they\nliked it none the less for that; for it was very sweet and very sad; and\nthat was enough for them. And these are the words of it:--\n\n\"When all the world is young, lad,\n   And all the trees are green;\n And every goose a swan, lad,\n   And every lass a queen;\n Then hey for boot and horse, lad,\n   And round the world away;\n Young blood must have its course, lad,\n   And every dog his day.\n\n\"When all the world is old, lad,\n   And all the trees are brown;\n And all the sport is stale, lad,\n   And all the wheels run down;\n Creep home, and take your place there,\n   The spent and maimed among;\n God grant you find one face there,\n   You loved when all was young.\"\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nThose are the words, but they are only the body of it; the soul of the\nsong was the dear old woman's sweet face, and sweet voice, and the sweet\nold air to which she sang; and that, alas! one cannot put on paper. And\nat last she grew so stiff and lame, that the angels were forced to carry\nher; and they helped her on with her wedding dress, and carried her up\nover Harthover Fells, and a long way beyond that too: and there was a\nnew schoolmistress in Vendale.\n\nAnd all the while Tom was swimming about in the river, with a pretty\nlittle lace collar of gills about his neck, as lively as a grig, and as\nclean as a fresh-run salmon.\n\nNow, if you don't like my story, then go to the schoolroom and learn\nyour multiplication table, and see if you like that better. Some people,\nno doubt, would do so. So much the better for us, if not for them. It\ntakes all sorts, they say, to make a world.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nTom was now quite amphibious, and what is better still, he was clean.\nFor the first time in his life he felt how comfortable it was to have\nnothing on him but himself. But he only enjoyed it; he did not know it,\nor think about it; just as you enjoy life and health, and yet never\nthink about being alive and healthy; and may it be long before you have\nto think about it!\n\nHe did not remember having ever been dirty. Indeed, he did not remember\nany of his old troubles--being tired, or hungry, or sent up dark\nchimneys. Since that sweet sleep, he had forgotten all about his master,\nand Harthover Place, and the little white girl, and in a word all that\nhad happened to him when he lived before; and what was best of all, he\nhad forgotten all the bad words which he had learned from Grimes, and\nthe rude boys with whom he used to play.\n\nThat is not strange; for you know, when you came into this world, and\nbecame a land baby, you remembered nothing. So why should he, when he\nbecame a water baby?\n\nBut Tom was very happy in the water. He had been sadly overworked in the\nland world; and so now, to make up for that, he had nothing but holidays\nin the water world for a long, long time to come. He had nothing to do\nnow but enjoy himself, and look at all the pretty things which are to be\nseen in the cool, clear water world, where the sun is never too hot and\nthe frost is never too cold.\n\nAnd what did he live on? Water cresses, perhaps; or perhaps water gruel,\nand water milk; too many land babies do so likewise. But we do not know\nwhat one tenth of the water-things eat; so we are not answerable for the\nwater babies.\n\nSometimes he went along the smooth gravel water-ways, looking at the\ncrickets which ran in and out among the stones, as rabbits do on land;\nor he climbed over the ledges of rock, and saw the sand pipes hanging in\nthousands, with every one of them a pretty little head and legs peeping\nout; or he went into a still corner, and watched the caddises eating\ndead sticks as greedily as you would eat plum pudding, and building\ntheir houses with silk and glue. Very fanciful ladies they were; none of\nthem would keep to the same materials for a day. One would begin with\nsome pebbles; then she would stick on a piece of green wood; then she\nfound a shell, and stuck it on too; and the poor shell was alive, and\ndid not like at all being taken to build houses with; but the caddis did\nnot let him have any voice in the matter, being rude and selfish, as\nvain people are apt to be; then she stuck on a piece of rotten wood,\nthen a very smart pink stone, and so on, till she was patched all over\nlike an Irishman's coat. Then she found a long straw, five times as long\nas herself, and said, \"Hurrah! my sister has a tail, and I'll have one\ntoo;\" and she stuck it on her back, and marched about with it quite\nproud, though it was very inconvenient indeed. And, at that, tails\nbecame all the fashion among the caddis-baits in that pool, and they all\ntoddled about with long straws sticking out behind, getting between each\nother's legs, and tumbling over each other, and looking so ridiculous,\nthat Tom laughed at them till he cried.\n\nThen sometimes he came to a deep, still reach; and there he saw the\nwater forests. They would have looked to you only little weeds; but Tom,\nyou must remember, was so little that everything looked a hundred times\nas big to him as it does to you, just as things do to a minnow, who sees\nand catches the little water creatures which you can only see in a\nmicroscope.\n\nAnd in the water forest he saw the water monkeys and water squirrels\n(they had all six legs, though; everything, almost, has six legs in the\nwater, except efts and water babies); and nimbly enough they ran among\nthe branches. There were water flowers there too, in thousands; and Tom\ntried to pick them; but as soon as he touched them, they drew themselves\nin and turned into knots of jelly; and then Tom saw that they were all\nalive--bells, and stars, and wheels, and flowers, of all beautiful\nshapes and colours; and all alive and busy, just as Tom was. So now he\nfound that there was a great deal more in the world than he had fancied\nat first sight.\n\nNow you must know that all the things under the water talk; only not\nsuch a language as ours; but such as horses, and dogs, and cows, and\nbirds talk to each other; and Tom soon learned to understand them and\ntalk to them; so that he might have had very pleasant company if he had\nonly been a good boy. But I am sorry to say, he was too like some other\nlittle boys, very fond of hunting and tormenting creatures for mere\nsport, till they were all afraid of him, and got out of his way, or\ncrept into their shells; so he had no one to speak to or play with.\n\nThe water fairies, of course, were very sorry to see him so unhappy, and\nlonged to take him, and tell him how naughty he was, and teach him to be\ngood, and to play and romp with him, too; but they had been forbidden to\ndo that. Tom had to learn his lesson for himself by sound and sharp\nexperience, as many another foolish person has to do, though there may\nbe many a kind heart yearning over them all the while, and longing to\nteach them what they can only teach themselves.\n\nAt last one day he found a caddis, and wanted it to peep out of its\nhouse; but its house door was shut. He had never seen a caddis with a\nhouse door before; so what must he do, the meddlesome little fellow, but\npull it open, to see what the poor lady was doing inside. What a shame!\nHow should you like to have any one breaking your bedroom door in, to\nsee how you looked when you were in bed? So Tom broke to pieces the\ndoor, which was the prettiest little grating of silk, stuck all over\nwith shining bits of crystal; and when he looked in, the caddis poked\nout her head, and it had turned into just the shape of a bird's. But\nwhen Tom spoke to her she could not answer; for her mouth and face were\ntight tied up in a new nightcap of neat pink skin. However, if she\ndidn't answer, all the other caddises did; for they held up their hands\nand shrieked: \"Oh, you nasty, horrid boy; there you are at it again! And\nshe had just laid herself up for a fortnight's sleep, and then she would\nhave come out with such beautiful wings, and flown about, and laid such\nlots of eggs; and now you have broken her door, and she can't mend it\nbecause her mouth is tied up for a fortnight, and she will die. Who sent\nyou here to worry us out of our lives?\"\n\nSo Tom swam away. He was very much ashamed of himself, and felt all the\nnaughtier; as little boys do when they have done wrong and won't say so.\n\nThen he came to a pool full of little trout, and began tormenting them,\nand trying to catch them; but they slipped through his fingers, and\njumped clean out of water in their fright. But as Tom chased them, he\ncame close to a great dark hover under an alder root, and out floushed a\nhuge old brown trout ten times as big as he was, and ran up against him,\nand knocked all the breath out of him; and I don't know which was the\nmore frightened of the two.\n\nThen he went on sulky and lonely, as he deserved to be; and under a bank\nhe saw a very ugly, dirty creature sitting, about half as big as\nhimself; which had six legs and a big stomach, and a most ridiculous\nhead with two great eyes and a face just like a donkey's.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Tom, \"you are an ugly fellow to be sure!\" and he began making\nfaces at him; and put his nose close to him, and halloed at him like a\nvery rude boy.\n\nWhen, hey presto; all the thing's donkey-face came off in a moment, and\nout popped a long arm with a pair of pincers at the end of it, and\ncaught Tom by the nose. It did not hurt him much; but it held him quite\ntight.\n\n\"Yah, ah! Oh, let me go!\" cried Tom,\n\n\"Then let me go,\" said the creature. \"I want to be quiet. I want to\nsplit.\"\n\nTom promised to let him alone, and he let go. \"Why do you want to\nsplit?\" said Tom.\n\n\"Because my brothers and sisters have all split, and turned into\nbeautiful creatures with wings; and I want to split too. Don't speak to\nme. I am sure I shall split. I will split!\"\n\nTom stood still and watched him. And he swelled himself, and puffed, and\nstretched himself out stiff, and at last--crack, puff, bang--he opened\nall down his back, and then up to the top of his head.\n\nAnd out of his inside came the most slender, elegant, soft creature, as\nsoft and smooth as Tom, but very pale and weak, like a little child who\nhas been ill a long time in a dark room. It made his legs very feebly;\nand looked about it half asleep like a girl when she goes for the first\ntime to a ballroom; and then it began walking slowly up grass stem to\nthe top of the water.\n\nTom was so astonished that he never said a word, but he stared with all\nhis eyes. And he went up to the top of the water too, and peeped out to\nsee what would happen.\n\nAnd as the creature sat in the warm, bright sun, a wonderful change came\nover it. It grew strong and firm; the most lovely colours began to show\non its body--blue and yellow and black, spots and bars and rings; out of\nits back rose four great wings of bright brown gauze; and its eyes grew\nso large that they filled all its head, and shone like ten thousand\ndiamonds.\n\n\"Oh, you beautiful creature!\" said Tom; and he put out his hand to catch\nit.\n\nBut the thing whirred up into the air, and hung poised on its wings a\nmoment, and then settled down again by Tom quite fearless.\n\n[Illustration: \"OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE! SAID TOM.]\n\n\"No!\" it said, \"you cannot catch me. I am a dragon fly now, the king of\nall flies; and I shall dance in the sunshine, and hawk over the river,\nand catch gnats, and have a beautiful wife like myself. I know what I\nshall do. Hurrah!\" And he flew away into the air, and began catching\ngnats.\n\n\"Oh! come back, come back,\" cried Tom, \"you beautiful creature. I have\nno one to play with, and I am so lonely here. If you will but come back\nI will never try to catch you.\"\n\n\"I don't care whether you do or not,\" said the dragon fly; \"for you\ncan't. But when I have had my dinner, and looked a little about this\npretty place, I will come back, and have a little chat about all I have\nseen in my travels. Why, what a huge tree this is! and what huge leaves\non it!\"\n\nIt was only a big dock; but you know the dragon fly had never seen any\nbut little water trees; starwort, and milfoil, and water crowfoot, and\nsuch like; so it did look very big to him. Besides, he was very\nshortsighted, as all dragon flies are; and never could see a yard before\nhis nose; any more than a great many other folks, who are not half as\nhandsome as he.\n\nThe dragon fly did come back, and chatted away with Tom. He was a little\nconceited about his fine colours and his large wings; but you know, he\nhad been a poor, dirty, ugly creature all his life before; so there were\ngreat excuses for him. He was very fond of talking about all the\nwonderful things he saw in the trees and meadows; and Tom liked to\nlisten to him, for he had forgotten all about them. So in a little while\nthey became great friends.\n\nAnd I am very glad to say that Tom learned such a lesson that day, that\nhe did not torment creatures for a long time after. And then the\ncaddises grew quite tame, and used to tell him strange stories about the\nway they built their houses, and changed their skins, and turned at last\ninto winged flies, till Tom began to long to change his skin, and have\nwings like them some day.\n\nAnd the trout and he made it up (for trout very soon forget if they have\nbeen frightened and hurt). So Tom used to play with them at hare and\nhounds, and great fun they had; and he used to try to leap out of the\nwater, head over heels, as they did before a shower came on; but somehow\nhe never could manage it. He liked most, though, to see them rising at\nthe flies, as they sailed round and round under the shadow of the great\noak, where the beetles fell flop into the water, and the green\ncaterpillars let themselves down from the boughs by silk ropes for no\nreason at all; and then changed their foolish minds for no reason at\nall, either; and hauled themselves up again into the tree, rolling up\nthe rope in a ball between their paws.\n\nAnd very often Tom caught them just as they touched the water; and\ncaught the alder-flies, and the caperers, and the cock-tailed duns and\nspinners, yellow, and brown, and claret, and gray, and gave them to his\nfriends the trout. Perhaps he was not quite kind to the flies; but one\nmust do a good turn to one's friends when one can.\n\nAnd at last he gave up catching even the flies; for he made acquaintance\nwith one by accident and found him a very merry little fellow. And this\nwas the way it happened; and it is all quite true.\n\nHe was basking at the top of the water one hot day in July, catching\nduns and feeding the trout, when he saw a new sort, a dark gray little\nfellow with a brown head. He was a very little fellow, indeed; but he\nmade the most of himself, as people ought to do. He cocked up his head,\nand he cocked up his wings, and he cocked up his tail, and, in short, he\nlooked the cockiest little man of all little men. And so he proved to\nbe; for instead of getting away, he hopped upon Tom's finger, and sat\nthere as bold as nine tailors; and he cried out in the tiniest,\nshrillest, squeakiest little voice you ever heard:\n\n\"Much obliged to you indeed; but I don't want it yet.\"\n\n\"Want what?\" said Tom, quite taken aback by his impudence.\n\n\"Your leg, which you are kind enough to hold out for me to sit on. I\nmust go and see after my wife for a few minutes. Dear me! what a\ntroublesome business a family is!\" (though the idle little rogue did\nnothing at all, but left his poor wife to lay all the eggs by herself).\n\"When I come back, I shall be glad of it, if you'll be so good as to\nkeep it sticking out just so;\" and off he flew.\n\nTom thought him a very cool sort of personage; and still more so, when\nin five minutes he came back, and said, \"Ah, you were tired waiting?\nWell, your other leg will do as well.\"\n\nAnd he popped himself down on Tom's knee, and began chatting away in his\nsqueaking voice.\n\n\"So you live under the water? It's a low place. I lived there for some\ntime, and was very shabby and dirty. But I didn't choose that that\nshould last. So I turned respectable, and came up to the top, and put on\nthis suit. It's a business-like suit, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Very neat and quiet indeed,\" said Tom.\n\n\"Yes, one must be quiet and neat and respectable, and all that sort of\nthing for a little, when one becomes a family man. But I'm tired of it,\nthat's the truth. I've done quite enough business, I consider, in the\nlast week, to last me my life. So I shall put on a ball dress, and go\nout and be a smart man, and see the gay world, and have a dance or two.\nWhy shouldn't one be jolly if one can?\"\n\n\"And what will become of your wife?\"\n\n\"Oh! she is a very plain, stupid creature, and that's the truth; and\nthinks about nothing but eggs. If she chooses to come, why she may; and\nif not, why I go without her; and here I go.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke, he turned quite pale, and then quite white.\n\n\"Why, you're ill!\" said Tom. But he did not answer.\n\n\"You're dead,\" said Tom, looking at him as he stood on his knee as white\nas a ghost.\n\n\"No, I ain't!\" answered a little squeaking voice over his head. \"This is\nme up here, in my ball dress; and that's my skin. Ha, ha! you could not\ndo such a trick as that!\"\n\nAnd no more Tom could. For the little rogue had jumped clean out of his\nown skin, and left it standing on Tom's knee, eyes, wings, legs, tail,\nexactly as if it had been alive.\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" he said, and he jerked and skipped up and down, never stopping\nan instant, just as if he had Saint Vitus's dance. \"Ain't I a pretty\nfellow now?\"\n\nAnd so he was; for his body was white, and his tail orange, and his eyes\nall the colours of a peacock's tail. And what was the oddest of all, the\nwhisks at the end of his tail had grown five times as long as they were\nbefore.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, \"now I will see the gay world. My living won't cost me\nmuch, for I have no mouth, you see, and no inside; so I can never be\nhungry nor have the stomach ache neither.\"\n\nNo more he had. He had grown as dry and hard and empty as a quill, as\nsuch silly, shallow-hearted fellows deserve to grow.\n\nBut instead of being ashamed of his emptiness, he was quite proud of it,\nas a good many fine gentlemen are, and began flirting and flipping up\nand down, and singing:\n\n\"My wife shall dance, and I shall sing,\n   So merrily pass the day:\n For I hold it for quite the wisest thing,\n   To drive dull care away.\"\n\nAnd he danced up and down for three days and three nights, till he grew\nso tired that he tumbled into the water and floated down. But what\nbecame of him Tom never knew, and he himself never minded; for Tom heard\nhim singing to the last, as he floated down:\n\n\"To drive dull care away-ay-ay!\"\n\nAnd if he did not care, why nobody else cared, either.\n\nBut one day Tom had a new adventure. He was sitting on a water-lily\nleaf, he and his friend the dragon fly, watching the gnats dance. The\ndragon fly had eaten as many as he wanted, and was sitting quite still\nand sleepy, for it was very hot and bright. The gnats (who did not care\nthe least for the death of their poor brothers) danced a foot over his\nhead quite happily, and a large black fly settled within an inch of his\nnose, and began washing his own face and combing his hair with his paws;\nbut the dragon fly never stirred, and kept on chatting to Tom.\n\nSuddenly Tom heard the strangest noise up the stream; cooing, and\ngrunting, and whining, and squeaking, as if you had put into a bag two\nstock-doves, nine mice, three guinea pigs, and a blind puppy, and left\nthem there to settle themselves and make music.\n\nHe looked up the water, and there he saw a sight as strange as the\nnoise; a great ball rolling over and over down the stream, seeming one\nmoment of soft brown fur, and the next of shining glass: and yet it was\nnot a ball; for sometimes it broke up and streamed away in pieces, and\nthen it joined again; and all the while the noise came out of it louder\nand louder.\n\nTom asked the dragon fly what it could be; but of course, with his short\nsight, he could not even see it, though it was not ten yards away. So\nTom took the neatest little header into the water, and started off to\nsee for himself; and, when he came near, the ball turned out to be four\nor five beautiful otters, many times larger than Tom, who were swimming\nabout, and rolling, and diving, and twisting, and wrestling, and\ncuddling, and kissing, and biting, and scratching, in the most charming\nfashion that ever was seen.\n\nBut when the biggest of them saw Tom, she darted out from the rest, and\ncried in the water language sharply enough, \"Quick, children, here is\nsomething to eat, indeed!\" and came at poor Tom, showing such a wicked\npair of eyes, and such a set of sharp teeth in a grinning mouth, that\nTom, who had thought her very handsome, said to himself, \"Handsome is\nthat handsome does,\" and slipped in between the water-lily roots as fast\nas he could, and then turned round and made faces at her.\n\n[Illustration: TOM ESCAPED THE OTTER]\n\n\"Come out,\" said the wicked old otter, \"or it will be worse for you.\"\n\nBut Tom looked at her from between two thick roots, and shook them with\nall his might, making horrible faces all the while, just as he used to\ngrin through the railings at the old women, when he lived before. It was\nnot quite well bred, no doubt; but you know, Tom had not finished his\neducation yet.\n\n\"Come away, children,\" said the otter in disgust, \"it is not worth\neating, after all. It is only a nasty eft, which nothing eats, not even\nthose vulgar pike in the pond.\"\n\n\"I am not an eft!\" said Tom; \"efts have tails.\"\n\n\"You are an eft,\" said the otter, very positively; \"I see your two hands\nquite plain, and I know you have a tail.\"\n\n\"I tell you I have not,\" said Tom. \"Look here!\" and he turned his pretty\nlittle self quite round; and sure enough, he had no more tail than you.\n\nThe otter might have got out of it by saying that Tom was a frog; but,\nlike a great many other people, when she had once said a thing she stood\nto it, right or wrong; so she answered:\n\n\"I say you are an eft, and therefore you are, and not fit food for\ngentlefolk like me and my children. You may stay there till the salmon\neat you\" (she knew the salmon would not, but she wanted to frighten poor\nTom). \"Ha! ha! they will eat you, and we will eat them;\" and the otter\nlaughed such a wicked, cruel laugh--as you may hear them do sometimes;\nand the first time that you hear it you will probably think it is\nbogies.\n\n\"What are salmon?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"Fish, you eft, great fish, nice fish to eat. They are the lords of the\nfish, and we are lords of the salmon;\" and she laughed again. \"We hunt\nthem up and down the pools, and drive them up into a corner, the silly\nthings; they are so proud, and bully the little trout, and the minnows,\ntill they see us coming, and then they are so meek all at once; and we\ncatch them, but we disdain to eat them all; we just bite off their soft\nthroats and suck their sweet juice--Oh, so good!\"--(and she licked her\nwicked lips)--\"and then throw them away, and go and catch another. They\nare coming soon, children, coming soon; I can smell the rain coming up\noff the sea, and then hurrah for a fresh, and salmon, and plenty of\neating all day long.\"\n\nAnd the otter grew so proud that she turned head over heels twice, and\nthen stood upright half out of the water, grinning like a Cheshire cat.\n\n\"And where do they come from?\" asked Tom, who kept himself very close,\nfor he was considerably frightened.\n\n\"Out of the sea, eft, the great, wide sea, where they might stay and be\nsafe if they liked. [Footnote: Salmon live in the sea, as the otter\nsays, but each autumn they go up the rivers to spawn.] But out of the\nsea the silly things come, into the great river down below, and we come\nup to watch for them; and when they go down again, we go down and follow\nthem. And there we fish for the bass and the pollock, and have jolly\ndays along the shore, and toss and roll in the breakers, and sleep snug\nin the warm dry crags. Ah, that is a merry life, too, children, if it\nwere not for those horrid men.\"\n\n\"What are men?\" asked Tom; but somehow he seemed to know before he\nasked.\n\n\"Two-legged things, eft; and, now I come to look at you, they are\nactually something like you, if you had not a tail\" (she was determined\nthat Tom should have a tail), \"only a great deal bigger, worse luck for\nus; and they catch the fish with hooks and lines, which get into our\nfeet sometimes, and set pots along the rocks to catch lobsters. They\nspeared my poor, dear husband as he went out to find something for me to\neat. I was laid up among the crags then, and we were very low in the\nworld, for the sea was so rough that no fish would come in shore. But\nthey speared him, poor fellow, and I saw them carrying him away upon a\npole. Ah, he lost his life for your sakes, my children, poor, dear,\nobedient creature that he was.\"\n\nAnd the otter grew so sentimental (for otters can be very sentimental\nwhen they choose, like a good many people who are both cruel and greedy,\nand no good to anybody at all) that she sailed solemnly away down the\nburn, and Tom saw her no more for that time.\n\nAnd lucky it was for her that she did so; for no sooner was she gone,\nthan down the bank came seven rough terrier dogs, snuffing and yapping,\nand grubbing and splashing, in full cry after the otter. Tom hid among\nthe water lilies till they were gone; for he could not guess that they\nwere the water fairies come to help him.\n\nBut he could not help thinking of what the otter had said about the\ngreat river and the broad sea. And as he thought, he longed to go and\nsee them. He could not tell why; but the more he thought, the more he\ngrew discontented with the narrow little stream in which he lived, and\nall his companions there; and wanted to get out into the wide, wide\nworld, and enjoy all the wonderful sights of which he was sure it was\nfull.\n\nAnd once he set off to go down the stream. But the stream was very low;\nand when he came to the shallows he could not keep under water, for\nthere was no water left to keep under. So the sun burned his back and\nmake him sick; and he went back again and lay quiet in the pool for a\nwhole week more.\n\nAnd then on the evening of a very hot day he saw a sight.\n\nHe had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout; for they would\nnot move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands on the\nwater, but lay dozing at the bottom under the shade of the stones; and\nTom lay dozing, too, and was glad to cuddle their smooth, cool sides,\nfor the water was quite warm and unpleasant.\n\nBut toward evening it grew suddenly dark, and Tom looked up and saw a\nblanket of black clouds lying right across the valley above his head,\nresting on the crags right and left. He felt not quite frightened, but\nvery still; for everything was still. There was not a whisper of wind,\nnor a chirp of a bird to be heard; and next a few great drops of rain\nfell plop into the water, and one hit Tom on the nose, and made him pop\nhis head down quickly enough.\n\nAnd then the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, and leaped\nacross Vendale and back again, from cloud to cloud, and cliff to cliff,\ntill the very rocks in the stream seemed to shake; and Tom looked up at\nit through the water, and thought it the finest thing he ever saw in his\nlife.\n\nBut out of the water he dared not put his head; for the rain came down\nby bucketfuls, and the hail hammered like shot on the stream and churned\nit into foam; and soon the stream rose, and rushed down, higher and\nhigher, and fouler and fouler, full of beetles, and sticks, and straws,\nand worms, and addle-eggs, and wood lice, and leeches, and odds and\nends, and this, that, and the other, enough to fill nine museums.\n\nTom could hardly stand against the stream, and hid behind a rock. But\nthe trout did not; for out they rushed from among the stones, and began\ngobbling the beetles and leeches in the most greedy and quarrelsome way,\nand swimming about with great worms hanging out of their mouths, tugging\nand kicking to get them away from each other.\n\nAnd now, by the flashes of the lightning, Tom saw a new sight--all the\nbottom of the stream alive with great eels, turning and twisting along,\nall down stream and away. They had been hiding for weeks past in the\ncracks of the rocks, and in burrows in the mud; and Tom had hardly even\nseen them, except now and then at night; but now they were all out, and\nwent hurrying past him so fiercely and wildly that he was quite\nfrightened. And as they hurried past he could hear them say to each\nother, \"We must run, we must run. What a jolly thunderstorm! Down to the\nsea, down to the sea!\"\n\nAnd then the otter came by with all her brood, twining and sweeping\nalong as fast as the eels themselves; and she spied Tom as she came by,\nand said:\n\n\"Now is your time, eft, if you want to see the world. Come along,\nchildren, never mind those nasty eels; we shall breakfast on salmon to-\nmorrow. Down to the sea, down to the sea!\"\n\nThen came a flash brighter than all the rest, and by the light of it--in\nthe thousandth part of a second they were gone again--but he had seen\nthem, he was certain of it--three beautiful little white girls, with\ntheir arms twined round each other's necks, floating down the torrent,\nas they sang, \"Down to the sea, down to the sea!\"\n\n\"Oh, stay! Wait for me!\" cried Tom; but they were gone; yet he could\nhear their voices clear and sweet through the roar of thunder and water\nand wind, singing as they died away, \"Down to the sea!\"\n\n\"Down to the sea!\" said Tom; \"everything is going to the sea, and I will\ngo too. Good-bye, trout.\" But the trout were so busy gobbling worms that\nthey never turned to answer him; so that Tom was spared the pain of\nbidding them farewell.\n\nAnd now, down the rushing stream, guided by the bright flashes of the\nstorm; past tall birch-fringed rocks, which shone out one moment as\nclear as day, and the next were dark as night; past dark hovers under\nswirling banks, from which great trout rushed out on Tom, thinking him\nto be good to eat, and turned back sulkily, for the fairies sent them\nhome again with a tremendous scolding, for daring to meddle with a water\nbaby; on through narrow strids [Footnote: strid (rare) means a place the\nlength of a stride] and roaring cataracts, where Tom was deafened and\nblinded for a moment by the rushing waters; along deep reaches, where\nthe white water lilies tossed and flapped beneath the wind and hail;\npast sleeping villages; under dark bridge arches, and away and away to\nthe sea. And Tom could not stop, and did not care to stop; he would see\nthe great world below, and the salmon, and the breakers, and the wide,\nwide sea.\n\nAnd when the daylight came, Tom found himself out in the salmon river.\n\nA full hundred yards broad it was, sliding on from broad pool to broad\nshallow, and broad shallow to broad pool, over great fields of shingle,\nunder oak and ash coverts, past low cliffs of sandstone, past green\nmeadows, and fair parks, and a great house of gray stone, and brown\nmoors above, and here and there against the sky the smoking chimney of a\ncolliery.\n\n[Illustration: THE SALMON, KING OF ALL THE FISH]\n\nBut Tom thought nothing about what the river was like. All his fancy\nwas, to get down to the wide, wide sea.\n\nAnd after a while he came to a place where the river spread out into\nbroad, still, shallow reaches, so wide that little Tom, as he put his\nhead out of the water, could hardly see across.\n\nAnd there he stopped. He got a little frightened. \"This must be the\nsea,\" he thought. \"What a wide place it is! If I go on into it I shall\nsurely lose my way, or some strange thing will bite me. I will stop here\nand look out for the otter, or the eels, or some one to tell me where I\nshall go.\"\n\nSo he went back a little way, and crept into a crack of the rock, just\nwhere the river opened out into the wide shallows, and watched for some\none to tell him his way; but the otter and the eels were gone on miles\nand miles down the stream.\n\nThere he waited, and slept, too, for he was quite tired with his night's\njourney; and, when he woke, the stream was clearing to a beautiful amber\nhue, though it was still very high. And after a while, he saw a sight\nwhich made him jump up; for he knew in a moment it was one of the things\nwhich he had come to look for.\n\nSuch a fish! ten times as big as the biggest trout, and a hundred times\nas big as Tom, sculling up the stream past him, as easily as Tom had\nsculled down.\n\nSuch a fish! shining silver from head to tail, and here and there a\ncrimson dot; with a grand hooked nose and grand curling lip, and a grand\nbright eye, looking round him as proudly as a king, and surveying the\nwater right and left as if all belonged to him. Surely he must be the\nsalmon, the king of all the fish.\n\nTom was so frightened that he longed to creep into a hole; but he need\nnot have been; for salmon are all true gentlemen, and, like true\ngentlemen, they look noble and proud enough, and yet, like true\ngentlemen, they never harm or quarrel with any one, but go about their\nown business, and leave rude fellows to themselves.\n\nThe salmon looked at him full in the face, and then went on without\nminding him, with a swish or two of his tail which made the stream boil\nagain. And in a few minutes came another, and then four or five, and so\non; and all passed Tom, rushing and plunging up the cataract with strong\nstrokes of their silver tails, now and then leaping clean out of water\nand up over a rock, shining gloriously for a moment in the bright sun;\nwhile Tom was so delighted that he could have watched them all day long.\n\nAnd at last one came up bigger than all the rest; but he came slowly,\nand stopped, and looked back, and seemed very anxious and busy. And Tom\nsaw that he was helping another salmon, an especially handsome one, who\nhad not a single spot upon it, but was clothed in pure silver from nose\nto tail.\n\n\"My dear,\" said the great fish to his companion, \"you really look\ndreadfuly tired, and you must not overexert yourself at first. Do rest\nyourself behind this rock;\" and he shoved her gently with his nose, to\nthe rock were Tom sat.\n\nYou must know that this was the salmon's wife. For salmon, like other\ntrue gentlemen, always choose their lady, and love her, and are true to\nher, and take care of her and work for her, and fight for her, as every\ntrue gentleman ought; and are not like vulgar chub and roach and pike,\nwho have no high feelings, and take no care of their wives.\n\nThen he saw Tom, and looked at him very fiercely one moment, as if he\nwas going to bite him.\n\n\"What do you want here?\" he said, very fiercely.\n\n\"Oh, don't hurt me!\" cried Tom. \"I only want to look at you; you are so\nhandsome.\"\n\n\"Ah?\" said the salmon, very stately but very civilly. \"I really beg your\npardon; I see what you are, my little dear. I have met one or two\ncreatures like you before, and found them very agreeable and well\nbehaved. Indeed, one of them showed me a great kindness lately, which I\nhope to be able to repay. I hope we shall not be in your way here. As\nsoon as this lady is rested, we shall proceed on our journey.\"\n\nWhat a well-bred old salmon he was!\n\n\"So you have seen things like me before?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"Several times, my dear. Indeed, it was only last night that one at the\nriver's mouth came and warned me and my wife of some new stake-nets\nwhich had got into the stream, I cannot tell how, since last winter, and\nshowed us the way round them, in the most charmingly obliging way.\"\n\n\"So there are babies in the sea?\" cried Tom, and clapped his little\nhands. \"Then I shall have some one to play with there? How delightful!\"\n\n\"Were there no babies up this stream?\" asked the lady salmon.\n\n\"No! and I grew so lonely. I thought I saw three last night; but they\nwere gone in an instant, down to the sea. So I went, too; for I had\nnothing to play with but caddises and dragon flies and trout,\"\n\n\"Ugh!\" cried the lady, \"what low company!\"\n\n\"My dear, if he has been in low company, he has certainly not learnt\ntheir low manners,\" said the salmon.\n\n\"No indeed, poor little dear; but how sad for him to live among such\npeople as caddises, who have actually six legs, the nasty things; and\ndragon flies, too! why they are not even good to eat; for I tried them\nonce, and they are all hard and empty; and as for trout, every one knows\nwhat they are.\" Whereon she curled up her lip, and looked dreadfully\nscornful, while her husband curled up his, too, till he looked as proud\nas Alcibiades. [Footnote: Alcibiades was a particularly handsome and\nparticularly proud Greek, who lived in the time of the great wars\nbetween the two Greek states of Athens and Sparta. He took part in these\nwars, first on the side of Athens, then on the side of Sparta, and\nfinally succeeded in gaining the hatred of both states by his treachery\nand unscrupulousness. He went into exile, but was finally put to death\nby the Persians at the command of the Athenians and Spartans (404 B.\nC.)]\n\n\"Why do you dislike the trout so?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"My dear, we do not even mention them, if we can help it; for I am sorry\nto say they are relations of ours who do us no credit. A great many\nyears ago they were just like us; but they were so lazy, and cowardly,\nand greedy, that instead of going down to the sea every year to see the\nworld and grow strong and fat, they chose to stay and poke about in the\nlittle streams and eat worms and grubs; and they are very properly\npunished for it; for they have grown ugly and brown and spotted and\nsmall; and are actually so degraded in their tastes that they will eat\nour children.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nSo the salmon went up, after Tom had warned them of the wicked old\notter; and Tom went down, but slowly and cautiously, coasting along the\nshore. He was many days about it, for it was many miles down to the sea;\nand perhaps he would never have found his way, if the fairies had not\nguided him, without his seeing their faces, or feeling their gentle\nhands.\n\nAnd as he went, he had a very strange adventure. It was a clear, still\nSeptember night, and the moon shone so brightly down through the water\nthat he could not sleep, though he shut his eyes as tight as possible.\nSo at last he came up to the top, and sat upon a little point of rock,\nand looked up at the broad yellow moon, and wondered what she was, and\nthought that she looked at him. And he watched the moonlight on the\nrippling river, and the black heads of the firs, and the silver-frosted\nlawns, and listened to the owl's hoot, and the snipe's bleat, and the\nfox's bark, and the otter's laugh; and smelt the soft perfume of the\nbirches, and the wafts of heather honey off the grouse moor far above;\nand felt very happy. You, of course, would have been very cold sitting\nthere on a September night, without the least bit of clothes on your wet\nback; but Tom was a water baby, and therefore felt cold no more than a\nfish.\n\nSuddenly he saw a beautiful sight. A bright red light moved along the\nriverside, and threw down into the water a long taproot of flame. Tom,\ncurious little rogue that he was, must needs go and see what it was; so\nhe swam to the shore, and met the light as it stopped over a shallow run\nat the edge of a low rock.\n\nAnd there, underneath the light, lay five or six great salmon, looking\nup at the flame with their great goggle eyes, and wagging their tails,\nas if they were very much pleased at it.\n\nTom came to the top, to look at this wonderful light nearer, and made a\nsplash.\n\nAnd he heard a voice say:\n\n\"There was a fish rose.\"\n\nHe did not know what the words meant; but he seemed to know the sound of\nthem, and to know the voice which spoke them; and he saw on the bank\nthree great two-legged creatures, one of whom held the light, flaring\nand sputtering, and another a long pole. And he knew that they were men,\nand was frightened, and crept into a hole in the rock, from which he\ncould see what went on.\n\nThe man with the torch bent down over the water and looked earnestly in;\nand then he said:\n\n\"Tak' that muckle fellow, lad; he's ower fifteen punds; and haud your\nhand steady.\" [Footnote: MUCKLE is an old English word meaning LARGE.]\n\nTom felt that there was some danger coming, and longed to warn the\nfoolish salmon, who kept staring up at the light as if he was bewitched.\nBut before he could make up his mind, down came the pole through the\nwater; there was a fearful splash and struggle, and Tom saw that the\npoor salmon was speared right through, and was lifted out of the water.\n\nAnd then, from behind, there sprang on these three men three other men;\nand there were shouts, and blows, and words which Tom recollected to\nhave heard before; and he shuddered and turned sick at them now, for he\nfelt somehow that they were strange, and ugly, and wrong, and horrible.\nAnd it all began to come back to him. They were men; and they were\nfighting; savage, desperate, up-and-down fighting, such as Tom had seen\ntoo many times before.\n\nAnd he stopped his little ears, and longed to swim away; and was very\nglad that he was a water baby, and had nothing to do any more with\nhorrid dirty men, with foul clothes on their backs, and foul words on\ntheir lips; but he dared not stir out of his hole, while the rock shook\nover his head with the trampling and struggling of the keepers and the\npoachers.\n\nAll of a sudden there was a tremendous splash, and a frightful flash,\nand a hissing, and all was still.\n\nFor into the water, close to Tom, fell one of the men--he who held the\nlight in his hand. Into the swift river he sank, and rolled over and\nover in the current. Tom heard the men above run along, seemingly\nlooking for him; but he drifted down into the deep hole below, and there\nlay quite still, and they could not find him.\n\nTom waited a long time, till all was quiet; and then he peeped out, and\nsaw the man lying. At last he screwed up his courage and swam down to\nhim. \"Perhaps,\" he thought, \"the water has made him fall asleep, as it\ndid me.\"\n\nThen he went nearer. He grew more and more curious, he could not tell\nwhy. He must go and look at him. He would go very quietly, of course; so\nhe swam round and round him, closer and closer; and, as he did not stir,\nat last, he came quite close and looked him in the face.\n\nThe moon shone so bright that Tom could see every feature; and, as he\nsaw, he recollected, bit by bit; it was his old master, Grimes.\n\nTom turned tail, and swam away as fast as he could,\n\n\"Oh dear me!\" he thought, \"now he will turn into a water baby. What a\nnasty, troublesome one he will be! And perhaps he will find me out, and\nbeat me again.\"\n\nSo he went up the river again a little way, and lay there the rest of\nthe night under an alder root; but when morning came, he longed to go\ndown again to the big pool, and see whether Mr. Grimes had turned into a\nwater baby yet.\n\nSo he went very carefully, peeping round all the rocks, and hiding under\nall the roots. Mr. Grimes lay there still; he had not turned into a\nwater baby. In the afternoon Tom went back again. He could not rest till\nhe had found out what had become of Mr. Grimes. But this time Mr. Grimes\nwas gone; and Tom made up his mind that he was turned into a water baby.\n\nHe might have made himself easy, poor little man; Mr. Grimes did not\nturn into a water baby, or anything like one at all. But he did not make\nhimself easy; and a long time he was fearful lest he should meet Grimes\nsuddenly in some deep pool. He could not know that the fairies had\ncarried him away, and put him, where they put everything which falls\ninto the water, exactly where it ought to be.\n\nThen Tom went on down, for he was afraid of staying near Grimes; and as\nhe went, all the vale looked sad. The red and yellow leaves showered\ndown into the river; the flies and beetles were all dead and gone; the\nchill autumn fog lay low upon the hills, and sometimes spread itself so\nthickly on the river that he could not see his way. But he felt his way\ninstead, following the flow of the stream, day after day, past great\nbridges, past boats and barges, past the great town, with its wharfs,\nand mills, and tall smoking chimneys, and ships which rode at anchor in\nthe stream; and now and then he ran against their hawsers, and wondered\nwhat they were, and peeped out, and saw the sailors lolling on board\nsmoking their pipes; and ducked under again, for he was terribly afraid\nof being caught by man and turned into a chimney-sweep once more. He did\nnot know that the fairies were close to him always, shutting the\nsailors' eyes lest they should see him, and turning him aside from\nmillraces, and sewer mouths, and all foul and dangerous things. Poor\nlittle fellow, it was a dreary journey for him; and more than once he\nlonged to be back in Vendale, playing with the trout in the bright\nsummer sun. But it could not be. What has been once can never come over\nagain. And people can be little babies, even water babies, only once in\ntheir lives.\n\nBesides, people who make up their minds to go and see the world, as Tom\ndid, must needs find it a weary journey. Lucky for them if they do not\nlose heart and stop halfway, instead of going on bravely to the end as\nTom did. For then they will remain neither boys nor men, neither fish,\nflesh, nor good red herring; having learnt a great deal too much, and\nyet not enough; and sown their wild oats, without having the advantage\nof reaping them.\n\nBut Tom was always a brave, determined little English bulldog, who never\nknew when he was beaten; and on and on he held, till he saw a long way\noff the red buoy through the fog. And then he found, to his surprise,\nthe stream turned round, and running up inland.\n\nIt was the tide, of course; but Tom knew nothing of the tide. He only\nknew that in a minute more the water, which had been fresh, turned salt\nall round him. And then there came a change over him. He felt as strong,\nand light, and fresh, as if his veins had run champagne; and gave, he\ndid not know why, three skips out of the water, a yard high, and head\nover heels, just as the salmon do when they first touch the noble, rich\nsalt water, which, as some wise men tell us, is the mother of all living\nthings.\n\nHe did not care now for the tide being against him. The red buoy was in\nsight, dancing in the open sea; and to the buoy he would go, and to it\nhe went. He passed great shoals of bass and mullet, leaping and rushing\nin after the shrimps, but he never heeded them, or they him; and once he\npassed a great, black, shining seal, who was coming in after the mullet.\nThe seal put his head and shoulders out of water, and stared at him,\nlooking exactly like a fat old greasy negro with a gray pate. And Tom,\ninstead of being frightened, said, \"How d'ye do, sir; what a beautiful\nplace the sea is!\" And the old seal, instead of trying to bite him,\nlooked at him with his soft, sleepy, wink-eyes, and said, \"Good tide to\nyou, my little man; are you looking for your brothers and sisters? I\npassed them all at play outside.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Oh, then,\" said Tom, \"I shall have play-fellows at last,\" and he swam\non to the buoy, and got upon it (for he was quite out of breath) and sat\nthere, and looked round for water babies; but there were none to be\nseen.\n\nThe sea breeze came in freshly with the tide and blew the fog away; and\nthe little waves danced for joy around the buoy, and the old buoy danced\nwith them. The shadows of the clouds ran races over the bright blue sky,\nand yet never caught each other up; and the breakers plunged merrily\nupon the wide white sands, and jumped up over the rocks, to see what the\ngreen fields inside were like, and tumbled down and broke themselves all\nto pieces, and never minded it a bit, but mended themselves and jumped\nup again. And the terns hovered over Tom like huge white dragon flies\nwith black heads, and the gulls laughed like girls at play, and the sea\npies, with their red bills and legs, flew to and fro from shore to\nshore, and whistled sweet and wild. And Tom looked and looked, and\nlistened; and he would have been very happy, if he could only have seen\nthe water babies. Then when the tide turned, he left the buoy, and swam\nround and round in search of them; but in vain. Sometimes he thought he\nheard them laughing, but it was only the laughter of the ripples. And\nsometimes he thought he saw them at the bottom, but it was only white\nand pink shells. And once he was sure he had found one, for he saw two\nbright eyes peeping out of the sand. So he dived down, and began\nscraping the sand away, and cried, \"Don't hide; I do want some one to\nplay with so much!\" And out jumped a great turbot with his ugly eyes and\nmouth all awry, and flopped away along the bottom, knocking poor Tom\nover. And he sat down at the bottom of the sea, and cried salt tears\nfrom sheer disappointment.\n\nTo have come all this way, and faced so many dangers, and yet to find no\nwater babies! How hard! Well, it did seem hard; but people, even little\nbabies, cannot have all they want without waiting for it, and working\nfor it too.\n\nAnd Tom sat upon the buoy long days, long weeks, looking out to sea, and\nwondering when the water babies would come back; and yet they never\ncame.\n\nThen he began to ask all the strange things which came in out of the sea\nif they had seen any; and some said \"Yes,\" and some said nothing at all.\n\nHe asked the bass and the pollock; but they were so greedy after the\nshrimps that they did not care to answer him a word.\n\nThen there came in a whole fleet of purple sea snails, floating along,\neach on a sponge full of foam; and Tom said, \"Where do you come from,\nyou pretty creatures? and have you seen the water babies?\"\n\nAnd the sea snails answered, \"Whence we come we know not; and whither we\nare going, who can tell? We float out our life in the mid-ocean, with\nthe warm sunshine above our heads, and the warm gulf stream below; and\nthat is enough for us. Yes; perhaps we have seen the water babies. We\nhave seen many strange things as we sailed along.\" And they floated\naway, the happy, stupid things, and all went ashore upon the sands.\n\nThen there came by a shoal of porpoises, rolling as they went--papas,\nand mammas, and little children--and all quite smooth and shiny, because\nthe fairies French-polish them every morning; and they sighed so softly\nas they came by, that Tom took courage to speak to them; but all they\nanswered was, \"Hush, hush, hush;\" for that was all they had learnt to\nsay.\n\n[Illustration: PORPOISES]\n\nAnd then there came by a beautiful creature, like a ribbon of pure\nsilver, with a sharp head and very long teeth; but it seemed very sick\nand sad. Sometimes it rolled helpless on its side; and then it\ndashed away, glittering like white fire; and then it lay sick again, and\nmotionless.\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" asked Tom. \"And why are YOU so sick and sad?\"\n\n\"I come from the warm Carolinas, and the sand-banks fringed with pines;\nwhere the great owl-rays leap and flap, like giant bats, upon the tide.\nBut I wandered north and north, upon the treacherous warm gulf stream,\ntill I met with the cold icebergs, afloat in the mid-ocean. So I got\ntangled among the icebergs, and chilled with the frozen breath. But the\nwater babies helped me from among them, and set me free again. And now I\nam mending every day; but I am very sick and sad; and perhaps I shall\nnever get home again to play with the owl-rays any more.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" cried Tom. \"And you have seen water babies! Have you seen any near\nhere?\"\n\n\"Yes; they helped me again last night, or I should have been eaten by a\ngreat black porpoise.\"\n\nHow vexatious! The water babies close to him, and yet he could not find\none.\n\nAnd then he left the buoy, and used to go along the sands and round the\nrocks, and come out in the night--like the forsaken Merman [Footnote:\nThis beautiful poem which Kingsley speaks of here is Matthew Arnold's\nThe Forsaken Merman, which you will find in Volume VII of these books.]\nin Mr. Arnold's beautiful, beautiful poem, which you must learn by heart\nsome day--and sit upon a point of rock, among the shining sea weeds, in\nthe low October tides, and cry and call for the water babies; but he\nnever heard a voice call in return. And at last, with his fretting and\ncrying, he grew quite lean and thin.\n\nBut one day among the rocks he found a playfellow. It was not a water\nbaby, alas! but it was a lobster; and a very distinguished lobster he\nwas; for he had live barnacles on his claws, which is a great mark of\ndistinction in lobsterdom, and no more to be bought for money than a\ngood conscience or the Victoria Cross. [Footnote: The Victoria Cross is\na decoration awarded British soldiers or sailors for distinguished\nbravery. The crosses are made from cannon captured in the Crimean War,\nand bear, under the crowned lion which is the British royal crest, the\nwords \"For Valour\". No other military decoration is so prized.]\n\nTom had never seen a lobster before; and he was mightily taken with this\none; for he thought him the most curious, odd, ridiculous creature he\nhad ever seen; and there he was not far wrong; for all the ingenious\nmen, and all the scientific men, and all the fanciful men in the world,\nwith all the old German bogy-painters into the bargain, could never\ninvent, if all their wits were boiled into one, anything so curious, and\nso ridiculous, as a lobster.\n\n[Illustration: A LOBSTER]\n\nHe had one claw knobbed and the other jagged; and Tom delighted in\nwatching him hold on to the seaweed with his knobbed claw, while he cut\nup salads with his jagged one, and then put them into his mouth, after\nsmelling at them, like a monkey. And always the little barnacles threw\nout their casting-nets and swept the water, and came in for their share\nof whatever there was for dinner.\n\nBut Tom was most astonished to see how he fired himself off--snap! like\nthe leapfrogs which you make out of a goose's breastbone. Certainly he\ntook the most wonderful shots, and backwards, too. For, if he wanted to\ngo into a narrow crack ten yards off, what do you think he did? If he\nhad gone in head foremost, of course he could not have turned round. So\nhe used to turn his tail to it, and lay his long horns, which carry his\nsixth sense in their tips (and nobody knows what that sixth sense is),\nstraight down his back to guide him, and twist his eyes back till they\nalmost came out of their sockets, and then made ready, present, fire,\nsnap!--and away he went, pop into the hole; and peeped out and twiddled\nhis whiskers, as much as to say, \"You couldn't do that.\"\n\nTom asked him about water babies. \"Yes,\" he said. He had seen them\noften. But he did not think much of them. They were meddlesome little\ncreatures, and went about helping fish and shells which got into\nscrapes. Well, for his part, he should be ashamed to be helped by little\nsoft creatures that had not even a shell on their backs. He had lived\nquite long enough in the world to take care of himself.\n\nHe was a conceited fellow, the old lobster, and not very civil to Tom;\nand you will hear how he had to alter his mind before he was done, as\nconceited people generally have. But he was so funny, and Tom so lonely,\nthat he could not quarrel with him; and they used to sit in holes in the\nrocks, and chat for hours.\n\nAnd about this time there happened to Tom a very strange and important\nadventure--so important, indeed, that he was very near never finding the\nwater babies at all; and I am sure you would have been sorry for that.\n\nI hope that you have not forgotten the little white lady all this while.\nAt least, here she comes, looking like a clean, white, good little\ndarling, as she always was and always will be. For it befell in the\npleasant short December days, when the wind always blows from the\nsouthwest, till Old Father Christmas comes and spreads the great white\ntablecloth, ready for little boys and girls to give the birds their\nChristmas dinner of crumbs--it befell (to go on) in the pleasant\nDecember days, that Sir John was so busy hunting that nobody at home\ncould get a word out of him. Four days a week he hunted, and very good\nsport he had; and the other two he went to the bench and the board of\nguardians, and very good justice he did; and when he got home in time,\nhe dined at five.\n\nIt befell (to go on a second time), that Sir John, hunting all day and\ndining at five, fell asleep every evening, and snored so terribly that\nall the windows in Harthover shook, and the soot fell down the chimneys.\nWhereon my Lady, being no more able to get conversation out of him than\na song out of a dead nightingale, determined to go off and leave him and\nthe doctor and Captain Swinger, the agent, to snore in concert every\nevening to their hearts' content. So she started for the seaside with\nall the children, in order to put herself and them into condition by\nmild applications of iodine.\n\nNow, it befell that, on the very shore and over the very rocks where Tom\nwas sitting with his friend the lobster, there walked one day the little\nwhite lady, Ellie herself, and with her a very wise man indeed--\nProfessor Ptthmllnsprts.\n\nHe was a very worthy, kind, good-natured little old gentleman; and very\nfond of children, and very good to all the world as long as it was good\nto him. Only one fault he had, which cock-robins have likewise, as you\nmay see if you look out of the nursery window--that when any one else\nfound a curious worm, he would hop round them, and peck them, and\nbristle up his feathers, just as a cock-robin would; and declare that he\nfound the worm first; and that it was his worm; and, if not, that then\nit was not a worm at all.\n\nSo Ellie and he were walking on the rocks, and he was showing her about\none in ten thousand of all the beautiful and curious things which are to\nbe seen there. But little Ellie was not satisfied with them at all. She\nliked much better to play with live children, or even with dolls, which\nshe could pretend were alive; and at last she said honestly, \"I don't\ncare about all these things, because they can't play with me, or talk\nwith me. If there were little children now in the water, as there used\nto be, and I could see them, I should like that.\"\n\n\"Children in the water, you strange little duck?\" said the professor.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Ellie. \"I know there used to be children in the water, and\nmermaids too, and mermen. I saw them all in a picture at home, of a\nbeautiful lady sailing in a car drawn by dolphins, and babies flying\nround her, and one sitting in her lap; and the mermaids swimming and\nplaying, and the mermen trumpeting on conch-shells; and it is called\n'The Triumph of Galatea;' [Footnote: This picture which little Ellie\nloved so was a copy of a famous painting by the great Raphael.] and\nthere is a burning mountain in the picture behind. It hangs on the great\nstaircase, and I have looked at it ever since I was a baby, and dreamt\nabout it a hundred times; and it is so beautiful that it must be true.\"\n\nThe professor, however, was not the least of little Ellie's opinion.\n\n\"But why are there not water babies?\" asked Ellie.\n\nI trust and hope that it was because the professor trod at that moment\non the edge of a very sharp mussel, and hurt one of his corns sadly,\nthat he answered quite sharply, forgetting that he was a scientific man,\n\"Because there ain't.\"\n\nWhich was not even good English, my dear little boy; for, as you must\nknow, the professor ought to have said, if he was so angry as to say\nanything of the kind--Because there are not: or are none: or are none of\nthem. And he groped with his net under the weeds so violently, that he\ncaught poor little Tom. He felt the net very heavy; lifted it out\nquickly, with Tom all entangled in the meshes.\n\n\"Dear me!\" he cried. \"What a large pink Holothurian; [Footnote: The\nHolothurians are curious creatures, such as the sea cucumbers or the sea\nslugs. One genus or class of them is known as the Synapta. These\ncreatures are quite rudimentary, and have, as the professor's next\nremark will tell you, no eyes. A Cephalopod is higher in the scale, and\nhas well-developed eyes.] with hands, too! It must be connected with\nSynapta.\" And he took him out.\n\n\"It has actually eyes;\" he cried. \"Why, it must be a Cephalopod! This is\nmost extraordinary!\"\n\n\"No, I ain't,\" cried Tom, as loud as he could; for he did not like to be\ncalled bad names.\n\n\"It is a water baby!\" cried Ellie; and of course it was.\n\n\"Water-fiddlesticks, my dear!\" said the professor; and he turned away\nsharply.\n\nNow, if the professor had said to Ellie, \"Yes, my darling, it is a water\nbaby, and a very wonderful thing it is; and it shows how little I know\nof the wonders of nature in spite of forty years of honest labour;\"--I\nthink that, if the professor had said that, little Ellie would have\nbelieved him more firmly, and respected him more deeply, and loved him\nbetter, than ever she had done before. But he was of a different\nopinion. He hesitated a moment. He longed to keep Tom, and yet he half\nwished he never had caught him; and at last he quite longed to get rid\nof him. So he turned away and poked Tom with his finger, for want of\nanything better to do; and said carelessly, \"My dear little maid, you\nmust have dreamt of water babies last night, your head is so full of\nthem.\"\n\n[Illustration: ELLIE AND THE PROFESSOR]\n\nNow Tom had been in the most horrible and unspeakable fright all the\nwhile; for it was fixed in his little head that if a man with clothes on\ncaught him, he might put clothes on him too, and make a dirty black\nchimney-sweep of him again. But when the professor poked him, it was\nmore than he could bear; and, between fright and rage, he turned to bay\nvaliantly, and bit the professor's finger till it bled.\n\n\"Oh! ah! yah!\" cried he; and glad of an excuse to be rid of Tom, dropped\nhim on to the seaweed, and thence he dived into the water and was gone\nin a moment. \"But it was a water baby, and I heard it speak!\" cried\nEllie. \"Ah, it is gone!\" And she jumped off the rock to try and catch\nTom.\n\nToo late! and what was worse, as she sprang down, she slipped, and fell\nsome six feet with her head on a sharp rock, and lay quite still. The\nprofessor picked her up, and tried to waken her, and called to her, and\ncried over her, for he loved her very much; but she would not waken at\nall. So he took her up in his arms and carried her to her governess, and\nthey all went home; and little Ellie was put to bed, and lay there quite\nstill; only now and then she woke up and called out about the water\nbaby; but no one knew what she meant, and the professor did not tell,\nfor he was ashamed to tell.\n\nAnd after a week, one moonlight night, the fairies came flying in at the\nwindow and brought her such a pretty pair of wings that she could not\nhelp putting them on; and she flew with them out of the window, and over\nthe land, and over the sea, and up through the clouds, and nobody heard\nor saw anything of her for a very long while.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nBut what became of little Tom?\n\nHe slipped away off the rocks into the water, as I said before. But he\ncould not help thinking of little Ellie. He did not remember who she\nwas; but he knew that she was a little girl, though she was larger than\nhe was now. That is not surprising; size has nothing to do with kindred.\nA tiny weed may be first cousin to a great tree; and a little dog like\nVick knows that Lioness is a dog too, though she is twenty times larger\nthan herself.\n\nSo Tom knew that Ellie was a little girl, and thought about her all that\nday, and longed to have had her to play with; but he had soon to think\nof something else.\n\nAnd here is the account of what happened to him, as it was published\nnext morning in the Waterproof Gazette, on the finest watered paper, for\nthe use of the great fairy, Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid, who reads the news\nvery carefully every morning, and especially the police cases.\n\nHe was going along the rocks in three-fathom water, watching the pollock\ncatch prawns, and the wrasses nibble barnacles off the rocks, shells and\nall, when he saw a round cage of green withes; and inside it, looking\nvery much ashamed of himself, sat his friend the lobster, twiddling his\nhorns, instead of thumbs.\n\n\"What, have you been naughty, and have they put you in the lockup?\"\nasked Tom.\n\nThe lobster felt a little indignant at such a notion, but he was too\nmuch depressed in spirits to argue; so he only said, \"I can't get out.\"\n\n\"Why did you get in?\"\n\n\"After that nasty piece of dead fish.\" He had thought it looked and\nsmelt very nice when he was outside, and so it did, for a lobster; but\nnow he turned round and abused it because he was angry with himself.\n\n\"Where did you get in?\"\n\n\"Through that round hole at the top.\"\n\n\"Then why don't you get out through it?\"\n\n\"Because I can't;\" and the lobster twiddled his horns more fiercely than\never, but he was forced to confess.\n\n\"I have jumped upwards, downwards, backwards, and sideways, at least\nfour thousand times; and I can't get out. I always get up underneath\nthere, and can't find the hole.\"\n\nTom looked at the trap, and having more wit than the lobster, he saw\nplainly enough what was the matter; as you may if you will look at a\nlobster-pot. [Footnote: You will understand from the lobster's\ndescription of his attempt to get out of the \"cage of green withes\" in\nwhich he found himself, that the lobster pot had hooks or spikes which\nwere bent in toward the center, so that the opening in the top was but\nsmall.] \"Stop a bit,\" said Tom. \"Turn your tail up to me, and I'll pull\nyou through hindforemost, and then you won't stick in the spikes.\"\n\nBut the lobster was so stupid and clumsy that he couldn't hit the hole.\nLike a great many fox hunters, he was very sharp as long as he was in\nhis own country; but as soon as they get out of it they lose their\nheads; and so the lobster, so to speak, lost his tail.\n\nTom reached and clawed down the hole after him, till he caught hold of\nhim; and then, as was to be expected, the clumsy lobster pulled him in\nhead foremost.\n\n\"Hullo! here is a pretty business,\" said Tom. \"Now take your great\nclaws, and break the points off those spikes, and then we shall both get\nout easily.\"\n\n\"Dear me, I never thought of that,\" said the lobster; \"and after all the\nexperience of life that I have had!\"\n\nYou see, experience is of very little good unless a man, or a lobster,\nhas wit enough to make use of it. For a good many people have seen all\nthe world, and yet remain little better than children after all.\n\nBut they had not got half the spikes away when they saw a great dark\ncloud over them; and lo and behold, it was the otter.\n\nHow she did grin and grin when she saw Tom. \"Yah!\" said she, \"you little\nmeddlesome wretch, I have you now! I will serve you out for telling the\nsalmon where I was!\" And she crawled all over the pot to get in.\n\nTom was horribly frightened, and still more frightened when she found\nthe hole in the top, and squeezed herself right down through it, all\neyes and teeth. But no sooner was her head inside than valiant Mr.\nLobster caught her by the nose and held on.\n\nAnd there they were all three in the pot, rolling over and over, and\nvery tight packing it was. And the lobster tore at the otter, and the\notter tore at the lobster, and both squeezed and thumped poor Tom till\nhe had no breath left in his body; and I don't know what would have\nhappened to him if he had not at last got on the otter's back, and safe\nout of the hole.\n\nHe was right glad when he got out, but he would not desert his friend\nwho had saved him; and the first time he saw his tail uppermost he\ncaught hold of it, and pulled with all his might.\n\nBut the lobster would not let go.\n\n\"Come along,\" said Tom; \"don't you see she is dead?\" And so she was,\nquite drowned and dead.\n\nAnd that was the end of the wicked otter.\n\nBut the lobster would not let go.\n\n\"Come along, you stupid old stick-in-the-mud,\" cried Tom, \"or the\nfisherman will catch you!\" And that was true, for Tom felt some one\nabove beginning to haul up the pot.\n\nBut the lobster would not let go.\n\nTom saw the fisherman haul him up to the boat side, and thought it was\nall up with him. But when Mr. Lobster saw the fisherman, he gave such a\nfurious and tremendous snap, that he snapped out of his hand, and out of\nthe pot, and safe into the sea. But he left his knobbed claw behind him;\nfor it never came into his stupid head to let go after all, so he just\nshook his claw off as the easier method.\n\nTom asked the lobster why he never thought of letting go. He said very\ndeterminedly that it was a point of honour among lobsters.\n\nAnd now happened to Tom a most wonderful thing; for he had not left the\nlobster five minutes before he came upon a water baby.\n\nA real, live water baby, sitting on the white sand, very busy about a\nlittle point of rock. And when it saw Tom it looked up for a moment and\nthen cried, \"Why, you are not one of us. You are a new baby! Oh, how\ndelightful!\"\n\nAnd it ran to Tom, and Tom ran to it, and they hugged and kissed each\nother for ever so long, they did not know why. But they did not want any\nintroductions there under the water.\n\nAt last Tom said, \"Oh, where have you been all this while? I have been\nlooking for you so long, and I have been so lonely.\"\n\n\"We have been here for days and days. There are hundreds of us about the\nrocks. How was it you did not see us, or hear us when we sing and romp\nevery evening before we go home?\"\n\nTom looked at the baby again, and then he said:\n\n\"Well, this is wonderful! I have seen things just like you again and\nagain, but I thought you were shells, or sea creatures. I never took you\nfor water babies like myself.\"\n\nNow, was not that very odd? So odd, indeed, that you will, no doubt,\nwant to know how it happened, and why Tom could never find a water baby\ntill after he had got the lobster out of the pot. And, if you will read\nthis story nine times over, and then think for yourself, you will find\nout why. It is not good for little boys to be told everything, and never\nto be forced to use their own wits.\n\n\"Now,\" said the baby, \"come and help me, or I shall not have finished\nbefore my brothers and sisters come, and it is time to go home.\"\n\n\"What shall I help you at?\"\n\n\"At this poor, dear little rock; a great clumsy boulder came rolling by\nin the last storm, and knocked all its head off, and rubbed off all its\nflowers. And now I must plant it again with seaweeds, and coraline, and\nanemones, and I will make it the prettiest little rock-garden on all the\nshore.\"\n\nSo they worked away at the rock, and planted it, and smoothed the sand\ndown round it, and capital fun they had till the tide began to turn. And\nthen Tom heard all the other babies coming, laughing and singing and\nshouting and romping; and the noise they made was just like the noise of\nthe ripple. So he knew that he had been hearing and seeing the water\nbabies all along; only he did not know them, because his eyes and ears\nwere not opened.\n\nAnd in they came, dozens and dozens of them, some bigger than Tom and\nsome smaller, all in the neatest little white bathing dresses; and when\nthey found that he was a new baby, they hugged and kissed him, and then\nput him in the middle and danced around him on the sand, and there was\nno one ever so happy as poor little Tom.\n\n\"Now then,\" they cried all at once, \"we must come away home, we must\ncome away home, or the tide will leave us dry. We have mended all the\nbroken seaweed, and put all the rock-pools in order, and planted all the\nshells again in the sand, and nobody will see where the ugly storm swept\nlast week.\"\n\nAnd this is the reason why the rock-pools are always so neat and clean;\nbecause the water babies come inshore after every storm to sweep them\nout, and comb them down, and put them all to rights again.\n\nOnly where men are wasteful and dirty, and let sewers run into the sea\ninstead of putting the stuff upon the fields like thrifty, reasonable\nsouls; or throw herrings' heads and dead dog-fish, or any other refuse,\ninto the water; or in any way make a mess upon the clean shore--there\nthe water babies will not come, sometimes not for hundreds of years (for\nthey cannot abide anything smelly or foul), but leave the sea anemones\nand the crabs to clear away everything till the good, tidy sea has\ncovered up all the dirt in soft mud and clean sand, where the water\nbabies can plant live cockles and whelks and razor shells and sea\ncucumbers and golden combs, and make a pretty live garden again, after\nman's dirt is cleared away. And that, I suppose, is the reason why there\nare no water babies at any watering place which I have ever seen.\n\nNow when Tom got to the home of the water babies, in Saint Brandan's\nfairy isle, he found that the isle stood all on pillars, and that its\nroots were full of caves. There were pillars of black basalt and pillars\nof green and crimson serpentine; and pillars ribboned with red and white\nand yellow sandstone; and there were blue grottoes and white grottoes,\nall curtained and draped with seaweeds, purple and crimson, green and\nbrown; and strewn with soft white sand, on which the water babies sleep\nevery night. But, to keep the place clean and sweet, the crabs picked up\nall the scraps off the floor and ate them like so many monkeys; while\nthe rocks were covered with ten thousand sea anemones, and corals and\nmadrepores, who scavenged the water all day long, and kept it nice and\npure. But, to make up to them for having to do such nasty work, they\nwere not left black and dirty, as poor chimney-sweeps and dustmen are.\nNo; the fairies are more considerate and just than that, and have\ndressed them all in the most beautiful colours and patterns, till they\nlook like vast flower beds of gay blossoms.\n\nAnd, instead of watchmen and policemen to keep out nasty things at\nnight, there were thousands and thousands of water snakes, and most\nwonderful creatures they were.\n\nThey were dressed in green velvet, and black velvet, and purple velvet;\nand were all jointed in rings; and some of them had three hundred brains\napiece, so that they must have been uncommonly shrewd detectives; and\nsome had eyes in their tails; and some had eyes in every joint, so that\nthey kept a very sharp lookout; and when they wanted a baby snake, they\njust grew one at the end of their own tails, and when it was able to\ntake care of itself it dropped off; so that they brought up their\nfamilies very cheaply. But if any nasty thing came by, out they rushed\nupon it; and then out of each of their hundreds of feet there sprang a\nwhole cutler's shop of\n Scythes,    Creeses,\n Billhooks,  Ghoorka swords,\n Pickaxes,   Tucks,\n Forks,      Javelins,\n Penknives,  Lances,\n Rapiers,    Halberts.\n Sabres,     Gisarines,\n Yataghans,  Poleaxes,\n Fishhooks,  Corkscrews,\n Bradawls,   Pins,\n Gimlets,    Needles,\n    And so forth,\nwhich stabbed, shot, poked, pricked, scratched, ripped, pinked, and\ncrimped those naughty beasts so terribly that they had to run for their\nlives, or else be chopped into small pieces and be eaten afterwards.\n\nAnd there were the water babies in thousands, more than Tom, or you\neither, could count. All the little children whom the good fairies take\nto, because their cruel mothers and fathers will not; all who are\nuntaught and brought up heathens, and all who come to grief by ill usage\nor ignorance or neglect; all the little children in alleys and courts,\nand tumble-down cottages, who die by fever, and cholera, and measles,\nand scarlatina, and nasty complaints which no one has any business to\nhave, and which no one will have some day, when folks have common sense;\nand all the little children who have been killed by cruel masters and\nwicked soldiers; they were all there, except, of course, the babes of\nBethlehem who were killed by wicked King Herod; for they were taken\nstraight to heaven long ago, as everybody knows, and we call them the\nHoly Innocents.\n\n[Illustration: MRS. BEDONEBYASYOUDID]\n\nBut I wish Tom had given up all his naughty tricks, and left off\ntormenting dumb animals now that he had plenty of playfellows to amuse\nhim. Instead of that, I am sorry to say, he would meddle with the\ncreatures, all but the water snakes, for they would stand no nonsense.\nSo he tickled the madrepores, to make them shut up; and frightened the\ncrabs, to make them hide in the sand and peep out at him with the tips\nof their eyes; and put stones into the anemones' [Footnote: The anemones\nspoken of here are not to be confused with the flowers which grow on\nland. The sea anemones are alive, but the circles of tentacles about\ntheir mouths make them look like flowers of the most beautiful colors.\nThey have no eyes, and of course could not see what Tom was offering\nthem.] mouths, to make them fancy that their dinner was coming.\n\nThe other children warned him, and said, \"Take care what you are at.\nMrs. Bedonebyasyoudid is coming.\" But Tom never heeded them, being quite\nriotous with high spirits and good luck, till, one Friday morning early,\nMrs. Bedonebyasyoudid came indeed.\n\nA very tremendous lady she was; and when the children saw her they all\nstood in a row, very upright indeed, and smoothed down their bathing\ndresses, and put their hands behind them, just as if they were going to\nbe examined by the inspector.\n\nAnd she had on a black bonnet, and a black shawl, and no crinoline at\nall, and a pair of large green spectacles, and a great hooked nose,\nhooked so much that the bridge of it stood quite up above her eyebrows;\nand under her arm she carried a great birch-rod. Indeed she was so ugly\nthat Tom was tempted to make faces at her, but did not, for he did not\nadmire the look of the birch-rod under her arm.\n\nAnd she looked at the children one by one, and seemed very much pleased\nwith them, though she never asked them one question about how they were\nbehaving; and then began giving them all sorts of nice sea things--sea\ncakes, sea apples, sea oranges, sea bullseyes, sea toffee; and to the\nvery best of all she gave sea ices, made out of sea-cows' cream, which\nnever melt under water.\n\nNow little Tom watched all these sweet things given away, till his mouth\nwatered, and his eyes grew as round as an owl's. For he hoped that his\nturn would come at last; and so it did. For the lady called him up, and\nheld out her fingers with something in them, and popped it into his\nmouth; and lo and behold, it was a nasty, cold, hard pebble.\n\n\"You are a very cruel woman,\" said he, and began to whimper.\n\n\"And you are a very cruel boy, who puts pebbles into the sea-anemones'\nmouths, to take them in, and make them fancy that they have caught a\ngood dinner. As you did to them, so must I do to you.\"\n\n\"Who told you that?\" said Tom.\n\n\"You did yourself, this very minute.\"\n\nTom had never opened his lips; so he was very much taken aback indeed.\n\n\"Yes; every one tells me exactly what they have done wrong; and that\nwithout knowing it themselves, So there is no use trying to hide\nanything from me. Now go, and be a good boy, and I will put no more\npebbles in your mouth, if you put none in other creatures'.\" \"I did not\nknow there was any harm in it,\" said Tom.\n\n\"Then you know now. People continually say that to me; but I tell them,\nif they don't know that fire burns, that is no reason that it should not\nburn you; and if you don't know that dirt breeds fever, that is no\nreason why the fevers should not kill you. The lobster did not know that\nthere was any harm in getting into the lobster-pot; but it caught him\nall the same.\"\n\n\"Dear me,\" thought Tom, \"she knows everything!\" And so she did, indeed.\n\n\"And so, if you do not know that things are wrong, that is no reason why\nyou should not be punished for them; though not as much, not as much, my\nlittle man\" (and the lady looked very kindly, after all), \"as if you did\nknow.\"\n\n\"Well, you are a little hard on a poor lad,\" said Tom.\n\n\"Not at all; I am the best friend you ever had in all your life. But I\nwill tell you; I cannot help punishing people when they do wrong. I like\nit no more than they do; I am often very, very sorry for them, poor\nthings; but I cannot help it. If I tried not to do it, I should do it\nall the same. For I work by machinery, just like an engine; and am full\nof wheels and springs inside; and am wound up very carefully, so that I\ncannot help going.\"\n\n\"Was it long ago since they wound you up?\" asked Tom. For he thought,\nthe cunning little fellow, \"She will run down some day; or they may\nforget to wind her up, as old Grimes used to forget to wind up his watch\nwhen he came in from the public-house; and then I shall be safe.\"\n\n\"I was wound up once and for all, so long ago that I forgot all about\nit.\"\n\n\"Dear me,\" said Tom, \"you must have been made a long time!\"\n\n\"I never was made, my child; and I shall go for ever and ever; for I am\nas old as Eternity, and yet as young as Time.\"\n\nAnd there came over the lady's face a very curious expression--very\nsolemn, and very sad; and yet very, very sweet. And she looked up and\naway, as if she were gazing through the sea, and through the sky, at\nsomething far, far off; and as she did so, there came such a quiet,\ntender, patient, hopeful smile over her face that Tom thought for the\nmoment that she did not look ugly at all. And no more she did; for she\nwas like a great many people who have not a pretty feature in their\nfaces, and yet are lovely to behold, and draw little children's hearts\nto them at once; because though the house is plain enough, yet from the\nwindows a beautiful and good spirit is looking forth.\n\nAnd Tom smiled in her face, she looked so pleasant for the moment. And\nthe strange fairy smiled too, and said:\n\n\"Yes. You thought me very ugly just now, did you not?\"\n\nTom hung down his head, and got very red about the ears.\n\n\"And I am very ugly. I am the ugliest fairy in the world; and I shall\nbe, till people behave themselves as they ought to do. And then I shall\ngrow as handsome as my sister, who is the loveliest fairy in the world;\nand her name is Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby. So she begins where I end,\nand I begin where she ends; and those who will not listen to her must\nlisten to me, as you will see. Now, all of you run away, except Tom; and\nhe may stay and see what I am going to do. It will be a very good\nwarning for him to begin with, before he goes to school.\n\n\"Now, Tom, every Friday I come down here and call up all who have ill-\nused little children, and serve them as they served the children.\"\n\nAnd first she called up all the doctors who give little children so much\nphysic (they were most of them old ones; for the young ones have learnt\nbetter), and she set them all in a row; and very rueful they looked; for\nthey knew what was coming.\n\nAnd first she pulled all their teeth out; and then she bled them all\nround; and then she dosed them with calomel, and jalap, and salts and\nsenna, and brimstone and treacle; and horrible faces they made; and then\nshe gave them a great emetic of mustard and water, and began all over\nagain; and that was the way she spent the morning.\n\nAnd then she called up a whole troop of foolish ladies, who pinch their\nchildren's waists and toes; and she laced them all up in tight stays, so\nthat they were choked and sick, and their noses grew red, and their\nhands and feet swelled; and then she crammed their poor feet into the\nmost dreadfully tight boots, and made them all dance; and then she asked\nthem how they liked it; and when they said not at all, she let them go;\nbecause they had only done it out of foolish fashion, fancying it was\nfor their children's good, as if wasps' waists and pigs' toes could be\npretty, or wholesome, or of any use to anybody.\n\nThen she called up all the careless nursery-maids, and stuck pins into\nthem all over, and wheeled them about in perambulators with tight straps\nacross their stomachs and their heads and arms hanging over the side,\ntill they were quite sick and stupid, and would have had sunstrokes;\nbut, being under the water, they could only have water-strokes; which, I\nassure you, are nearly as bad, as you will find if you try to sit under\na mill wheel. And mind--when you hear a rumbling at the bottom of the\nsea, sailors will tell you that it is a ground swell; but now you know\nbetter. It is the old lady wheeling the maids about in perambulators.\n\nAnd by this time she was so tired, she had to go to luncheon.\n\nAnd after luncheon she set to work again, and called up all the cruel\nschoolmasters--whole regiments and brigades of them; and when she saw\nthem, she frowned most terribly, and set to work in earnest, as if the\nbest part of the day's work was to come. And she boxed their ears, and\nthumped them over the head with rulers, and pandied their hands with\ncanes, and told them that they told stories, and were this and that bad\nsort of people; and the more they were very indignant, and stood upon\ntheir honour, and declared they told the truth, the more she declared\nthey were not, and that they were only telling lies; and at last she\nbirched them all round soundly with her great birch-rod and set them\neach an imposition of three hundred thousand lines of Hebrew to learn by\nheart before she came back next Friday. And at that they all cried and\nhowled so, that their breaths came all up through the sea like bubbles\nout of soda water; and that is one reason of the bubbles in the sea.\nThere are others; but that is the one which principally concerns little\nboys. And by that time she was so tired that she was glad to stop; and,\nindeed, she had done a very good day's work.\n\nTom did not quite dislike the old lady; but he could not help thinking\nher a little spiteful--and no wonder if she was, poor old soul; for if\nshe has to wait to grow handsome till people do as they would be done\nby, she will have to wait a very long time.\n\nPoor old Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid! she has a great deal of hard work before\nher, and had better have been born a washerwoman, and stood over a tub\nall day; but, you see, people cannot always choose their own profession.\n\nBut Tom longed to ask her one question; and, after all, whenever she\nlooked at him, she did not look cross at all; and now and then there was\na funny smile in her face, and she chuckled to herself in a way which\ngave Tom courage, and at last he said:\n\n\"Pray, ma'am, may I ask you a question?\"\n\n\"Certainly, my little dear.\"\n\n\"Why don't you bring all the bad masters here and serve them out, too?\nThe butties [Footnote: Butty, in the English coal-mining regions, is the\nname given to a man who takes a contract to work out a certain area of\ncoal. He employs other people to work for him. A nailer is a man who\nmakes nails.] that knock about the poor collier-boys; and the nailers\nthat file off their lads' noses and hammer their fingers; and all the\nmaster sweeps, like my master Grimes? I saw him fall into the water long\nago; so I surely expected he would have been here. I'm sure he was bad\nenough to me.\"\n\nThen the old lady looked so very stern that Tom was quite frightened,\nand sorry that he had been so bold. But she was not angry with him. She\nonly answered, \"I look after them all the week round; and they are in a\nvery different place from this, because they knew that they were doing\nwrong.\"\n\nShe spoke very quietly; but there was something in her voice which made\nTom tingle from head to foot, as if he had got into a shoal of sea\nnettles.\n\n\"But these people,\" she went on, \"did not know that they were doing\nwrong; they were only stupid and impatient; and therefore I only punish\nthem till they become patient, and learn to use their common sense like\nreasonable beings. But as for chimney-sweeps, and collier-boys, and\nnailer lads, my sister has set good people to stop all that sort of\nthing; and very much obliged to her I am; for if she could only stop the\ncruel masters from ill-using poor children, I should grow handsome at\nleast a thousand years sooner. And now do you be a good boy, and do as\nyou would be done by, which they did not; and then, when my sister,\nMadame Doasyouwouldbedoneby, comes on Sunday, perhaps she will take\nnotice of you, and teach you how to behave. She understands that better\nthan I do.\" And so she went.\n\nTom was very glad to hear that there was no chance of meeting Grimes\nagain, though he was a little sorry for him, considering that he used\nsometimes to give him the leavings of the beer; but he determined to be\na very good boy all Saturday; and he was; for he never frightened one\ncrab, nor tickled any live corals, nor put stones into the sea-anemones'\nmouths, to make them fancy they had got a dinner; and when Sunday\nmorning came, sure enough, Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby came too. Whereat\nall the little children began dancing and clapping their hands, and Tom\ndanced too with all his might.\n\nAnd as for the pretty lady, I cannot tell you what the colour of her\nhair was, or of her eyes; no more could Tom; for when people look at\nher, all they can think of is, that she has the sweetest, kindest,\ntenderest, funniest, merriest face they ever saw, or want to see. But\nTom saw that she was a very tall woman, as tall as her sister; but\ninstead of being gnarly, and horny, and scaly, and prickly, like her,\nshe was the most nice, soft, fat, smooth, pussy, cuddly, delicious\ncreature who ever nursed a baby; and she understood babies thoroughly,\nfor she had plenty of her own, whole rows and regiments of them, and has\nto this day. And all her delight was, whenever she had a spare moment,\nto play with babies, in which she showed herself a woman of sense; for\nbabies are the best company and the pleasantest playfellows in the\nworld; at least, so all the wise people in the world think. And\ntherefore when the children saw her, they naturally caught hold of her,\nand pulled her till she sat down on a stone, and climbed into her lap,\nand clung round her neck, and caught hold of her hands; and then they\nall put their thumbs into their mouths, and began cuddling and purring\nlike so many kittens, as they ought to have done. While those who could\nget nowhere else sat down on the sand, and cuddled her feet--for no one,\nyou know, wears shoes in the water, except horrid old bathing-women, who\nare afraid of the water babies pinching their horny toes. And Tom stood\nstaring at them; for he could not understand what it was all about.\n\n\"And who are you, you little darling?\" she said.\n\n\"Oh, that is the new baby!\" they all cried, pulling their thumbs out of\ntheir mouths, \"and he never had any mother;\" and they all put their\nthumbs back again, for they did not wish to lose any time.\n\n\"Then I will be his mother, and he shall have the very best place; so\nget out, all of you, this moment.\"\n\nAnd she took up two great armfuls of babies--nine hundred under one arm\nand thirteen hundred under the other--and threw them away, right and\nleft, into the water. But they did not even take their thumbs out of\ntheir mouths, but came paddling and wriggling back to her like so many\ntadpoles, till you could see nothing of her from head to foot for the\nswarm of little babies.\n\nBut she took Tom in her arms, and laid him in the softest place of all, and\nkissed him, and patted him, and talked to him, tenderly and low, such\nthings as he had never heard before in his life; and Tom looked up into\nher eyes, and loved her, and loved, till he fell asleep from pure love.\n\n[Illustration: SHE TOOK TOM IN HER ARMS]\n\nAnd when he woke she was telling the children a story. And what story\ndid she tell them? One story she told them, which begins every Christmas\nEve, and yet never ends at all, for ever and ever; and as she went on,\nthe children took their thumbs out of their mouths and listened quite\nseriously, but not sadly at all; for she never told them anything sad;\nand Tom listened too, and never grew tired of listening. And he listened\nso long that he fell fast asleep again, and when he awoke, the lady was\nnursing him still.\n\n\"Now,\" said the fairy to Tom, \"will you be a good boy for my sake, and\ntorment no more sea beasts till I come back?\"\n\n\"And you will cuddle me again?\" said poor little Tom.\n\n\"Of course I will, you little duck. I should like to take you with me\nand cuddle you all the way, only I must not;\" and away she went.\n\nSo Tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea beasts after\nthat as long as he lived; and he is quite alive, I assure you, still.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nHere I come to the very saddest part of all my story.\n\nNow you may fancy that Tom was quite good, when he had everything that\nhe could want or wish; but you would be very much mistaken. Being quite\ncomfortable is a very good thing; but it does not make people good.\nIndeed, it sometimes makes them naughty, and I am very sorry to say that\nthis happened to little Tom. For he grew so fond of the sea bullseyes\nand sea lollipops that his foolish little head could think of nothing\nelse; and he was always longing for more, and wondering when the strange\nlady would come again and give him some, and what she would give him,\nand how much, and whether she would give him more than the others. And\nhe thought of nothing but lollipops by day, and dreamt of nothing else\nby night--and what happened then?\n\nThat he began to watch the lady to see where she kept the sweet things;\nand began hiding, and sneaking, and following her about, and pretending\nto be looking the other way, or going after something else, till he\nfound out that she kept them in a beautiful mother-of-pearl cabinet away\nin a deep crack of the rocks.\n\nAnd he longed to go to the cabinet, and yet he was afraid; and then he\nlonged again, and was less afraid; and at last, by continual thinking\nabout it, he longed so violently that he was not afraid at all. And one\nnight, when all the other children were asleep, and he could not sleep\nfor thinking of lollipops, he crept away among the rocks, and got to the\ncabinet, and behold! it was open.\n\nBut when he saw all the nice things inside, instead of being delighted,\nhe was quite frightened, and wished he had never come there. And then he\nwould only touch them, and he did; and then he would only taste one, and\nhe did; and then he would only eat one, and he did; and then he would\nonly eat two, and then three, and so on; and then he was terrified lest\nshe should come and catch him, and began gobbling them down so fast that\nhe did not taste them, or have any pleasure in them; and then he felt\nsick, and would have only one more; and then only one more again; and so\non till he had eaten them all up.\n\nAnd all the while, close behind him, stood Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid.\n\nSome people may say, \"But why did she not keep her cupboard locked?\"\nWell, I know. It may seem a very strange thing, but she never does keep\nher cupboard locked; every one may go and taste for himself, and fare\naccordingly. It is very odd, but so it is; and I am quite sure that she\nknows best. Perhaps she wishes people to learn to keep their fingers out\nof the fire by having them burned. She took off her spectacles, because\nshe did not like to see too much; and in her pity she arched up her\neyebrows into her very hair, and her eyes grew so wide that they would\nhave taken in all the sorrows of the world, and filled with great big\ntears, as they too often do.\n\n[Illustration: TOM FOUND THE CABINET]\n\nBut all she said was: \"Ah, you poor little dear! you are just like all\nthe rest.\"\n\nBut she said it to herself, and Tom neither heard nor saw her. Now, you\nmust not fancy that she was sentimental at all. If you do, and think\nthat she is going to let off you, or me, or any human being when we do\nwrong, because she is too tender-hearted to punish us, then you will\nfind yourself very much mistaken, as many a man does every year and\nevery day.\n\nBut what did the strange fairy do when she saw all her lollipops eaten?\n\nDid she fly at Tom, catch him by the scruff of the neck, hold him, hit\nhim, poke him, pull him, pinch him, pound him, put him in the corner,\nshake him, slap him, set him on a cold stone to reconsider himself, and\nso forth?\n\nNot a bit. You may watch her at work if you know where to find her. But\nyou will never see her do that. For, if she had, she knew quite well Tom\nwould have fought and kicked, and bit, and said bad words, and turned\nagain that moment into a naughty little heathen chimney-sweep, with his\nhand, like Ishmael's of old, against every man, and every man's hand\nagainst him.\n\nDid she question him, hurry him, frighten him, threaten him, to make him\nconfess? Not a bit. You may see her, as I said, at her work often enough\nif you know where to look for her; but you will never see her do that.\nFor if she had, she would have tempted him to tell lies in his fright;\nand that would have been worse for him, if possible, than even becoming\na heathen chimney-sweep again.\n\nNo. She leaves that for anxious parents and teachers (lazy ones, some\ncall them), who, instead of giving children a fair trial, such as they\nwould expect and demand for themselves, force them by fright to confess\ntheir own faults--which is so cruel and unfair that no judge on the\nbench dare do it to the wickedest thief or murderer, for the good\nBritish law forbids it--ay, and even punish them to make them confess,\nwhich is so detestable a crime that it is never committed now.\n\nSo the fairy just said nothing at all about the matter, not even when\nTom came next day with the rest for sweet things. He was horribly afraid\nof coming, but he was still more afraid of staying away, lest any one\nshould suspect him. He was dreadfully afraid, too, lest there should be\nno sweets--as was to be expected, he having eaten them all--and lest\nthen the fairy should inquire who had taken them. But behold! she pulled\nout just as many as ever, which astonished Tom, and frightened him still\nmore.\n\nAnd when the fairy looked him full in the face, he shook from head to\nfoot; however she gave him his share like the rest, and he thought\nwithin himself that she could not have found him out.\n\nBut when he put the sweets into his mouth, he hated the taste of them;\nand they made him so sick that he had to get away as fast as he could;\nand terribly sick he was, and very cross and unhappy, all the week\nafter. Then, when next week came, he had his share again; and again the\nfairy looked him full in the face; but more sadly than she had ever\nlooked. And he could not bear the sweets; but took them again in spite\nof himself.\n\nAnd when Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby came, he wanted to be cuddled like\nthe rest; but she said very seriously: \"I should like to cuddle you, but\nI cannot; you are so horny and prickly.\"\n\nAnd Tom looked at himself; and he was all over prickles, just like a sea\negg.\n\nWhich was quite natural; for you must know and believe that people's\nsouls make their bodies just as a snail makes its shell (I am not\njoking, my little man; I am in serious, solemn earnest). And therefore,\nwhen Tom's soul grew all prickly with naughty tempers, his body could\nnot help growing prickly too, so that nobody would cuddle him, or play\nwith him, or even like to look at him.\n\nWhat could Tom do now but go away and hide in a corner and cry? For\nnobody would play with him, and he knew full well why.\n\nAnd he was so miserable all that week that when the ugly fairy came and\nlooked at him once more full in the face, more seriously and sadly than\never, he could stand it no longer, and thrust the sweetmeats away,\nsaying, \"No, I don't want any: I can't bear them now;\" and then burst\nout crying, poor little man, and told Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid every word\nas it happened.\n\nHe was horribly frightened when he had done so; for he expected her to\npunish him very severely. But instead, she only took him up and kissed\nhim, which was not quite pleasant, for her chin was very bristly indeed;\nbut he was so lonely-hearted, he thought that rough kissing was better\nthan none.\n\n\"I will forgive you, little man,\" she said. \"I always forgive people the\nmoment they tell me the truth of their own accord.\"\n\n\"Then you will take away all these nasty prickles?\"\n\n\"That is a very different matter. You put them there yourself, and only\nyou can take them away.\"\n\n\"But how can I do that?\" asked Tom, crying afresh.\n\n\"Well, I think it is time for you to go to school; so I shall fetch you\na schoolmistress, who will teach you how to get rid of your prickles.\"\nAnd so she went away.\n\nTom was frightened at the notion of a schoolmistress; for he thought she\nwould certainly come with a birch-rod or a cane; but he comforted\nhimself, at last, that she might be something like the old woman in\nVendale--which she was not in the least; for when the fairy brought her,\nshe was the most beautiful little girl that ever was seen, with long\ncurls floating behind her like a golden cloud, and long robes floating\nall round her like a silver one.\n\n\"There he is,\" said the fairy; \"and you must teach him to be good,\nwhether you like or not.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said the little girl; but she did not seem quite to like, for\nshe put her finger in her mouth, and looked at Tom under her brows; and\nTom put his finger in his mouth, and looked at her under his brows, for\nhe was horribly ashamed of himself.\n\nThe little girl seemed hardly to know how to begin; and perhaps she\nwould never have begun at all if poor Tom had not burst out crying, and\nbegged her to teach him to be good and help him to cure his prickles;\nand at that she grew so tender-hearted that she began teaching him as\nprettily as ever child was taught in the world.\n\nAnd what did the little girl teach Tom? She taught him, first, what you\nhave been taught ever since you said your first prayers at your mother's\nknees; but she taught him much more simply. For the lessons in that\nworld, my child, have no such hard words in them as the lessons in this,\nand therefore the water babies like them better than you like your\nlessons, and long to learn them more and more; and grown men cannot\npuzzle nor quarrel over their meaning, as they do here on land; for\nthose lessons all rise clear and pure, out of the everlasting ground of\nall life and truth.\n\nSo she taught Tom every day in the week; only on Sundays she always went\naway home, and the kind fairy took her place. And before she had taught\nTom many Sundays, his prickles had vanished quite away, and his skin was\nsmooth and clean again.\n\n\"Dear me!\" said the little girl; \"why, I know you now. You are the very\nsame little chimney-sweep who came into my bedroom.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" cried Tom, \"And I know you, too, now. You are the very little\nwhite lady whom I saw in bed.\" And he jumped at her, and longed to hug\nand kiss her; but did not, remembering that she was a lady born; so he\nonly jumped round and round her till he was quite tired.\n\nAnd then they began telling each other all their story--how he had got\ninto the water, and she had fallen over the rock; and how he had swum\ndown to the sea, and how she had flown out of the window; and how this,\nthat, and the other, till it was all talked out. And then they both\nbegan over again, and I can't say which of the two talked fastest.\n\nAnd then they set to work at their lessons again, and both liked them so\nwell that they went on well till seven full years were past and gone.\n\nYou may fancy that Tom was quite content and happy all those seven\nyears; but the truth is, he was not. He had always one thing on his\nmind, and that was--where little Ellie went, when she went home on\nSundays.\n\nTo a very beautiful place, she said.\n\nBut what was the beautiful place like, and where was it?\n\nAh! that is just what she could not say. And it is strange, but true,\nthat no one can say; and that those who have been oftenest in it, or\neven nearest to it, can say least about it, and make people understand\nleast what it is like.\n\nBut the dear, sweet, loving, wise, good, self-sacrificing people, who\nreally go there, can never tell you anything about it, save that it is\nthe most beautiful place in all the world; and if you ask them more,\nthey grow modest, and hold their peace, for fear of being laughed at;\nand quite right they are.\n\nSo all that good little Ellie could say was, that it was worth all the\nrest of the world put together. And of course that only made Tom the\nmore anxious to go likewise.\n\n\"Miss Ellie,\" he said at last, \"I will know why I cannot go with you\nwhen you go home on Sundays, or I shall have no peace, and give you none\neither.\"\n\n\"You must ask the fairies that.\"\n\nSo when the fairy, Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid, came next, Tom asked her.\n\n\"Little boys who are only fit to play with sea beasts cannot go there,\"\nshe said. \"THOSE WHO GO THERE MUST GO FIRST WHERE THEY DO NOT LIKE, AND\nDO WHAT THEY DO NOT LIKE, AND HELP SOMEBODY THEY DO NOT LIKE.\"\n\n\"Why, did Ellie do that?\"\n\n\"Ask her.\"\n\nAnd Ellie blushed, and said, \"Yes, Tom, I did not like coming here at\nfirst; I was so much happier at home, where it is always Sunday. And I\nwas afraid of you, Tom, at first, because--because--\"\n\n\"Because I was all over prickles? But I am not prickly now, am I, Miss\nEllie?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Ellie. \"I like you very much now; and I like coming here,\ntoo.\"\n\n\"And perhaps,\" said the fairy, \"you will learn to like going where you\ndon't like, and helping some one that you don't like, as Ellie has.\"\n\nBut Tom put his finger in his mouth, and hung his head down; for he did\nnot see that at all.\n\nSo when Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby came, Tom asked her; for he thought in\nhis little head, \"She is not so strict as her sister, and perhaps she\nmay let me off more easily.\"\n\nAh, Tom, Tom, silly fellow! and yet I don't know why I should blame you,\nwhile so many grown people have got the very same notion in their heads.\n\nBut when they try it, they just get the same answer as Tom did. For when\nhe asked the second fairy, she told him just what the first did, and in\nthe very same words.\n\nTom was very unhappy at that. And when Ellie went home on Sunday, he\nfretted and cried all day, and did not care to listen to the fairy's\nstories about good children, though they were prettier than ever.\nIndeed, the more he overheard of them, the less he liked to listen,\nbecause they were all about children who did what they did not like, and\ntook trouble for other people, and worked to feed their little brothers\nand sisters instead of caring only for their play. And when she began to\ntell a story about a holy child in old times, who was martyred by the\nheathen because it would not worship idols, Tom could bear no more, and\nran away and hid among the rocks.\n\nAnd when Ellie came back, he was shy with her, because he fancied she\nlooked down on him, and thought him a coward. And then he grew quite\ncross with her, because she was superior to him, and did what he could\nnot do. And poor Ellie was quite surprised and sad; and at last Tom\nburst out crying; but he would not tell her what was really in his mind.\n\nAnd all the while he was eaten up with curiosity to know where Ellie\nwent to; so that he began not to care for his playmates, or for the sea\npalace or anything else. But perhaps that made matters all the easier\nfor him; for he grew so discontented with everything round him that he\ndid not care to stay, and did not care where he went.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, at last, \"I am so miserable here, I'll go, if only you\nwill go with me.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Ellie, \"I wish I might; but the worst of it is, that the\nfairy says that you must go alone if you go at all. Now don't poke that\npoor crab about, Tom\" (for he was feeling very naughty and mischievous),\n\"or the fairy will have to punish you.\"\n\nTom was very near saying, \"I don't care if she does;\" but he stopped\nhimself in time.\n\n\"I know what she wants me to do,\" he said, whining most dolefully. \"She\nwants me to go after that horrid old Grimes. I don't like him, that's\ncertain. And if I find him, he will turn me into a chimney-sweep again,\nI know. That's what I have been afraid of all along.\"\n\n\"No, he won't--I know as much as that. Nobody can turn water babies into\nsweeps, or hurt them at all, as long as they are good.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said naughty Tom, \"I see what you want; you are persuading me all\nalong to go, because you are tired of me, and want to get rid of me.\"\n\nLittle Ellie opened her eyes very wide at that, and they were all\nbrimming over with tears.\n\n\"Oh, Tom, Tom!\" she said, very mournfully--and then she cried, \"Oh, Tom,\nwhere are you?\"\n\nAnd Tom cried, \"Oh, Ellie, where are you?\"\n\nFor neither of them could see the other--not the least. Little Ellie\nvanished quite away, and Tom heard her voice calling him, and growing\nsmaller and smaller, and fainter and fainter, till all was silent.\n\nWho was frightened then but Tom? He swam up and down among the rocks,\ninto all the halls and chambers, faster than ever he swam before, but\ncould not find her. He shouted after her, but she did not answer; he\nasked all the other children, but they had not seen her; and at last he\nwent up to the top of the water and began crying and screaming for Mrs.\nBedonebyasyoudid--which perhaps was the best thing to do, for she came\nin a moment.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Tom. \"Oh dear, oh dear! I have been naughty to Ellie, and I\nhave killed her--I know I have killed her.\"\n\n\"Not quite that,\" said the fairy; \"but I have sent her away home, and\nshe will not come back again for I do not know how long.\"\n\nAnd at that Tom cried bitterly.\n\n\"How cruel of you to send Ellie away!\" sobbed Tom. \"However, I will find\nher again, if I go to the world's end to look for her.\"\n\nThe fairy did not slap Tom, and tell him to hold his tongue; but she\ntook him on her lap very kindly, just as her sister would have done; and\nput him in mind how it was not her fault, because she was wound up\ninside, like watches, and could not help doing things whether she liked\nor not. And then she told him how he had been in the nursery long\nenough, and must go out now and see the world, if he intended ever to be\na man; and how he must go all alone by himself, as every one else that\never was born has to go, and see with his own eyes, and smell with his\nown nose, and make his own bed and lie on it, and burn his own fingers\nif he put them into the fire. And then she told him how many fine things\nthere were to be seen in the world, and what an odd, curious, pleasant,\norderly, respectable, well-managed, and, on the whole, successful (as,\nindeed, might have been expected) sort of a place it was, if people\nwould only be tolerably brave and honest and good in it; and then she\ntold him not to be afraid of anything he met, for nothing would harm him\nif he remembered all his lessons, and did what he knew was right. And at\nlast she comforted poor little Tom so much that he was quite eager to\ngo, and wanted to set out that minute. \"Only,\" he said, \"if I might see\nEllie once before I went!\"\n\n\"Why do you want that?\"\n\n\"Because--because I should be so much happier if I thought she had\nforgiven me.\"\n\nAnd in the twinkling of an eye there stood Ellie, smiling, and looking\nso happy that Tom longed to kiss her; but was still afraid it would not\nbe respectful, because she was a lady born.\n\n\"I am going, Ellie!\" said Tom. \"I am going, if it is to the world's end.\nBut I don't like going at all, and that's the truth.\"\n\n\"Pooh! pooh! pooh!\" said the fairy. \"You will like it very well indeed,\nyou little rogue, and you know that at the bottom of your heart. But if\nyou don't I will make you like it. Come here, and see what happens to\npeople who do only what is pleasant.\"\n\nAnd she took out of one of her cupboards (she had all sorts of\nmysterious cupboards in the cracks of the rocks) the most wonderful\nwater-proof book, full of such photographs as never were seen. For she\nhad found out photography (and this is a fact) more than 13,598,000\nyears before anybody was born; and what is more, her photographs did not\nmerely represent light and shade, as ours do, but colour also. And\ntherefore her photographs were very curious and famous, and the children\nlooked with great delight at the opening of the book.\n\nAnd on the title-page was written, \"The History of the great and famous\nnation of the Doasyoulikes, who came away from the country of Hardwork,\nbecause they wanted to play on the Jew's-harp all day long.\"\n\nIn the first picture they saw these Doasyoulikes living in the land of\nReadymade, at the foot of the Happy-go-lucky Mountains, where flapdoodle\n[Footnote: Flapdoodle is the food on which fools are supposed to be\nfed.] grows wild; and if you want to know what that is, you must read\nPeter Simple. [Footnote: Peter Simple is a novel by Captain Marryat.]\n\nThey were very fond of music, but it was too much trouble to learn the\npiano or the violin; and as for dancing, that would have been too great\nan exertion. So they sat on ant-hills all day long, and played on the\nJew's-harp; and if the ants bit them, why they just got up and went to\nthe next anthill, till they were bitten there likewise.\n\nAnd they sat under the flapdoodle trees, and let the flapdoodle drop\ninto their mouths; and under the vines, and squeezed the grape juice\ndown their throats; and if any little pigs ran about ready roasted,\ncrying, \"Come and eat me,\" as was their fashion in that country, they\nwaited till the pigs ran against their mouths, and then took a bite, and\nwere content, just as so many oysters would have been.\n\nThey needed no weapons, for no enemies ever came near their land; and no\ntools, for everything was ready-made to their hand; and the stern old\nfairy Necessity never came near them to hunt them up, and make them use\ntheir wits, or die.\n\n\"Well, that is a jolly life,\" said Tom.\n\n\"You think so?\" said the fairy. \"Do you see that great peaked mountain\nthere behind, with smoke coming out of its top?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And do you see all those ashes, and slag, and cinders lying about?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then turn over the next five hundred years, and you will see what\nhappens next.\"\n\nAnd behold, the mountain had blown up like a barrel of gunpowder, and\nthen boiled over like a kettle; whereupon one-third of the Doasyoulikes\nwere blown into the air, and another third were smothered in ashes; so\nthat there was only one-third left.\n\nAnd then she turned over the next five hundred years; and there were the\nremnant of the Doasyoulikes, doing as they liked, as before. They were\ntoo lazy to move away from the mountain; so they said, \"If it has blown\nup once, that is all the more reason that it should not blow up again.\"\nAnd they were few in number; but they only said, \"The more, the merrier,\nbut the fewer, the better fare.\" However, that was not quite true; for\nall the flapdoodle trees were killed by the volcano, and they had eaten\nall the roast pigs, who, of course, could not be expected to have little\nones. So they had to live very hard, on nuts and roots which they\nscratched out of the ground with sticks. Some of them talked of sowing\ncorn, as their ancestors used to do, before they came into the land of\nReadymade; but they had forgotten how to make ploughs (they had\nforgotten even how to make Jew's-harps by this time), and had eaten all\nthe seed corn which they had brought out of the land of Hardwork years\nsince; and of course it was too much trouble to go away and find more.\nSo they lived miserably on roots and nuts, and all the weakly little\nchildren died.\n\n\"Why,\" said Tom, \"they are growing no better than savages.\"\n\nAnd the fairy turned over the next five hundred years. And there they\nwere all living up in trees, and making nests to keep off the rain. And\nunderneath the trees lions were prowling about.\n\n\"Why,\" said Ellie, \"the lions seem to have eaten a good many of them,\nfor there are very few left now.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the fairy; \"you see, it was only the strongest and most\nactive ones who could climb the trees, and so escape.\"\n\n\"But what great, hulking, broad-shouldered chaps they are,\" said Tom;\n\"they are a rough lot as ever I saw.\"\n\n\"Yes, they are getting very strong now; for the ladies will not marry\nany but the very strongest and fiercest gentlemen, who can help them up\nthe trees out of the lions' way.\"\n\nAnd she turned over the next five hundred years. And in that they were\nfewer still, and stronger, and fiercer; but their feet had changed shape\nvery oddly, for they laid hold of the branches with their great toes, as\nif they had been thumbs, just as a Hindoo tailor uses his toes to thread\nhis needle.\n\nThe children were very much surprised, and asked the fairy whether that\nwas her doing.\n\n\"Yes, and no,\" she said, smiling. \"It was only those who could use their\nfeet as well as their hands who could get a good living; or, indeed, get\nmarried; so that they got the best of everything, and starved out all\nthe rest; and those who are left keep up a regular breed of toe-thumb-\nmen, as a breed of shorthorns, or skye terriers, or fancy pigeons is\nkept up.\"\n\n\"But there is a hairy one among them,\" said Ellie.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the fairy, \"that will be a great man in his time, and chief\nof all the tribe.\"\n\nAnd when she turned over the next five hundred years, it was true.\n\nFor this hairy chief had had hairy children, and they hairier children\nstill; and every one wished to marry hairy husbands, and have hairy\nchildren, too; for the climate was growing so damp that none but the\nhairy ones could live; all the rest coughed and sneezed, and had sore\nthroats, and went into consumptions, before they could grow up to be men\nand women.\n\nThen the fairy turned over the next five hundred years. And they were\nfewer still.\n\n\"Why, there is one on the ground picking up roots,\" said Ellie, \"and he\ncannot walk upright.\"\n\nNo more he could; for in the same way that the shape of their feet had\naltered, the shape of their backs had altered also.\n\n\"Why,\" cried Tom, \"I declare they are all apes.\"\n\n\"Something fearfully like it, poor foolish creatures,\" said the fairy.\n\"They are grown so stupid now, that they can hardly think; for none of\nthem have used their wits for many hundred years. They have almost\nforgotten, too, how to talk. For each stupid child forgot some of the\nwords it heard from its stupid parents, and had not wits enough to make\nfresh words for itself. Beside, they are grown so fierce and suspicious\nand brutal that they keep out of each other's way, and mope and sulk in\nthe dark forests, never hearing each other's voice, till they have\nforgotten almost what speech is like. I am afraid they will all be apes\nvery soon, and all by doing only what they liked.\"\n\nAnd in the next five hundred years they were all dead and gone, by bad\nfood and wild beasts and hunters; all except one tremendous old fellow\nwith jaws like a jack, who stood full seven feet high; and M. Du Chaillu\n[Footnote: Paul du Chaillu, who was born in 1835, in New Orleans,\nLouisiana, made some very remarkable discoveries during his explorations\nin Africa--so wonderful, in fact, that people refused to believe them.\nHe was the first man to observe the habits of gorillas, and to obtain\nspecimens.] came up to him, and shot him, as he stood roaring and\nthumping his breast. And he remembered that his ancestors had once been\nmen, and tried to say, \"Am I not a man and a brother?\" but had forgotten\nhow to use his tongue; and then he tried to call for a doctor, but he\nhad forgotten the word for one, So all he said was \"Ubboboo!\" and died.\n\nAnd that was the end of the great and jolly nation of the Doasyoulikes.\nAnd when Tom and Ellie came to the end of the book, they looked very sad\nand solemn; and they had good reason so to do, for they really fancied\nthat the men were apes.\n\n\"But could you not have saved them from becoming apes?\" said little\nEllie, at last.\n\n\"At first, my dear, if only they would have behaved like men, and set to\nwork to do what they did not like. But the longer they waited, and\nbehaved like the dumb beasts, who only do what they like, the stupider\nand clumsier they grew; till at last they were past all cure, for they\nhad thrown their own wits away. It is such things as this that help to\nmake me so ugly, that I know not when I shall grow fair.\"\n\n\"And where are they all now?\" asked Ellie.\n\n\"Exactly where they ought to be, my dear.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\n\"Now,\" said Tom, \"I am ready to be off, if it's to the world's end.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the fairy, \"that is a brave, good boy. But you must go\nfarther than the world's end if you want to find Mr. Grimes; for he is\nat the Other-end-of-Nowhere. You must go to Shiny Wall, and through the\nwhite gate that never was opened; and then you will come to Peace-pool,\nand Mother Carey's Haven, where the good whales go when they die. And\nthere Mother Carey will tell you the way to the Other-end-of-Nowhere,\nand there you will find Mr. Grimes.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" said Tom. \"But I do not know my way to Shiny Wall, or where\nit is at all.\"\n\n\"Little boys must take the trouble to find out things for themselves, or\nthey will never grow to be men; so that you must ask all the beasts in\nthe sea and the birds in the air, and if you have been good to them,\nsome of them will tell you the way to Shiny Wall.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Tom, \"it will be a long journey, so I had better start at\nonce. Good-bye, Miss Ellie; you know I am getting a big boy, and I must\ngo out and see the world.\"\n\n\"I know you must,\" said Ellie; \"but you will not forget me, Tom. I shall\nwait here till you come.\"\n\nAnd she shook hands with him, and bade him good-bye. Tom longed very\nmuch again to kiss her; but he thought it would not be respectful,\nconsidering she was a lady born. So he promised not to forget her; but\nhis little whirl-about of a head was so full of the notion of going out\nto see the world, that it forgot her in five minutes; however, though\nhis head forgot her, I am glad to say his heart did not.\n\n[Illustration: Tom looking up at a bird wearing glasses on a boulder.]\n\nSo he asked all the beasts in the sea, and all the birds in the air, but\nnone of them knew the way to Shiny Wall. For why? He was still too far\ndown south. But for that there was a remedy. And so he swam northward,\nday after day, till at last he met the King of the Herrings, with a\ncurrycomb growing out of his nose, and a sprat in his mouth for a cigar,\nand asked him the way to Shiny Wall; so he bolted the sprat head\nforemost, and said:\n\n\"If I were you, young gentleman, I should go to the Allalonestone, and\nask the last of the Gairfowl. [Footnote: Gairfoul, or garefowl, was\nanother name for the great auk. This bird was about thirty inches long,\nand its wings were so small in proportion to its body that it could not\nfly. There have been no great auks since about the middle of the\nnineteenth century.] She is of a very ancient clan, very nearly as\nancient as my own; and knows a good deal which these modern upstarts\ndon't, as ladies of old houses are likely to do.\"\n\nTom asked his way to her, and the King of the Herrings told him very\nkindly, for he was a courteous old gentleman of the old school, though\nhe was horribly ugly, and strangely bedizened too, like the old dandies\nwho lounge in clubhouse windows.\n\nBut just as Tom had thanked him and set off, he called after him, \"Hi! I\nsay, can you fly?\"\n\n\"I never tried,\" said Tom. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because, if you can, I should advise you to say nothing to the old lady\nabout it. There; take a hint. Good-bye.\"\n\nAnd away Tom went for seven days and seven nights due northwest, till he\ncame to a great cod-bank, the like of which he never saw before.\n\nAnd there he saw the last of the Gairfowl, standing up on the\nAllalonestone, all alone. And a very grand old lady she was, full three\nfeet high, and bolt upright, like some old Highland chieftainess. She\nhad on a black velvet gown, and a white pinner and apron, and a very\nhigh bridge to her nose (which is a sure mark of high breeding), and a\nlarge pair of white spectacles on it, which made her look rather odd;\n[Footnote: The great auks were dark above and white beneath, and had\nhuge white spots about their eyes.] but it was the ancient fashion of\nher house.\n\nAnd instead of wings, she had two little feathery arms, with which she\nfanned herself, and complained of the dreadful heat.\n\nTom came up to her very humbly, and made his bow; and the first thing\nshe said was:\n\n\"Have you wings? Can you fly?\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, no, ma'am; I should not think of such a thing,\" said cunning\nlittle Tom.\n\n\"Then I shall have great pleasure in talking to you, my dear. It is\nquite refreshing nowadays to see anything without wings. They must all\nhave wings, forsooth, now, every new upstart sort of bird, and fly. What\ncan they want with flying, and raising themselves above their proper\nstation in life? In the days of my ancestors no birds ever thought of\nhaving wings, and did very well without; and now they all laugh at me\nbecause I keep to the good old fashion.\"\n\nAnd so she was running on, while Tom tried to get in a word edgeways;\nand at last he did, when the old lady got out of breath, and began\nfanning herself again. And then he asked if she knew the way to Shiny\nWall.\n\n\"Shiny Wall? Who should know better than I? We all came from Shiny Wall,\nthousands of years ago, when it was decently cold, and the climate was\nfit for gentlefolk; but now, we have quite gone down in the world, my\ndear, and have nothing left but our honour. And I am the last of my\nfamily. A friend of mine and I came and settled on this rock when we\nwere young, to be out of the way of low people. Once we were a great\nnation, and spread over all the Northern Isles. But men shot us so, and\nknocked us on the head and took our eggs--why, if you will believe it,\nthey say that on the coast of Labrador the sailors used to lay a plank\nfrom the rock on board the thing called their ship, and drive us along\nthe plank by hundreds, till we tumbled down in the ship's waist in\nheaps, and then, I suppose, they ate us, the nasty fellows! Well--but--\nwhat was I saying? At last, there were none of us left, except on the\nold Gairfowlskerry, just off the Iceland coast, up which no man could\nclimb. Even there we had no peace; for one day, when I was quite a young\ngirl, the land rocked, and the sea boiled, and the sky grew dark, and\nall the air was filled with smoke and dust, and down tumbled the old\nGairfowlskerry into the sea. The dovekies and marrocks, [Footnote: The\ndovekies and the marrocks, or marrots, are smaller birds belonging to\nthe auk family.] of course, all flew away; but we were too proud to do\nthat. Some of us were dashed to pieces, and the rest drowned, and so\nhere I am left alone. And soon I shall be gone, my little dear, and\nnobody will miss me; and then the poor stone will be left all alone.\"\n\n\"But, please, which is the way to Shiny Wall?\" said Tom.\n\n\"Oh, you must go, my little dear--you must go. Let me see--I am sure--\nthat is--really, my poor old brains are getting quite puzzled. Do you\nknow, my little dear, I am afraid, if you want to know, you must ask\nsome of these vulgar birds about, for I have quite forgotten.\"\n\nAnd the poor old Gairfowl began to cry tears of pure oil; and Tom was\nquite sorry for her, and for himself too, for he was at his wit's end\nwhom to ask.\n\nBut there came by a flock of petrels, who are Mother Carey's own\nchickens; and Tom thought them much prettier than Lady Gairfowl, and so\nperhaps they were; for Mother Carey had had a great deal of fresh\nexperience between the time that she invented the Gairfowl and the time\nthat she invented them. They flitted along like a flock of black\nswallows, and hopped and skipped from wave to wave, lifting up their\nlittle feet behind them so daintily, and whistling to each other so\ntenderly, that Tom fell in love with them at once, and called to them to\nknow the way to Shiny Wall.\n\n\"Shiny Wall? Do you want Shiny Wall? Then come with us, and we will show\nyou. We are Mother Carey's own chickens, and she sends us out over all\nthe seas, to show the good birds the way home.\"\n\nTom was delighted, and swam off to them, after he had made his bow to\nthe Gairfowl. But she would not return his bow, but held herself bolt\nupright, and wept tears of oil.\n\nThen the petrels asked this bird and that whether they would take Tom to\nShiny Wall; but one set was going to Sutherland, and one to the\nShetlands, and one to Norway, and one to Spitzbergen, and one to\nIceland, and one to Greenland; but none would go to Shiny Wall. So the\ngood-natured petrels said that they would show him part of the way\nthemselves, but they were only going as far as Jan Mayen's Land; and\nafter that he must shift for himself.\n\nOn the way, in a wrecked ship Tom found a little black and tan terrier\ndog, which began barking and snapping at him, and would not let him come\nnear.\n\nTom knew the dog's teeth could not hurt him; but at least it could shove\nhim away, and did; and he and the dog fought and struggled, and he did\nnot want to throw the dog overboard; but as they were struggling, there\ncame a tall green sea, and walked in over the weather side of the ship,\nand swept them both into the waves.\n\nAnd the poor little dog?\n\nWhy, after he had kicked and coughed a little, he sneezed so hard, that\nhe sneezed himself clean out of his skin, and turned into a water dog,\nand jumped and danced around Tom, and ran over the crests of the waves,\nand snapped at the jellyfish and the mackerel, and followed Tom the\nwhole way to the Other-end-of-Nowhere.\n\nThen they went on again, till they began to see the peak of Jan Mayen's\nLand, standing up like a white sugar loaf, two miles above the clouds.\n\nAnd there they fell in with a whole flock of mollymocks, [Footnote: The\nmollymocks, or mallemawks, are petrels, larger than the stormy petrels.]\nwho were feeding on a dead whale.\n\n\"These are the fellows to show you the way,\" said Mother Carey's\nchickens; \"we cannot help you farther north. We don't like to get among\nthe ice pack, for fear it should nip our toes; but the mollys dare fly\nanywhere.\"\n\nSo the petrels called to the mollys; but they were so busy and greedy,\ngobbling and packing and spluttering and fighting over the blubber, that\nthey did not take the least notice.\n\n\"Come, come,\" said the petrels, \"you lazy, greedy lubbers, this young\ngentleman is going to Mother Carey, and if you don't attend to him, you\nwon't earn your discharge from her, you know.\"\n\n\"Greedy we are,\" said a great, fat old molly, \"but lazy we ain't; and as\nfor lubbers, we're no more lubbers than you. Let's have a look at the\nlad.\"\n\nAnd he flapped right into Tom's face, and stared at him in the most\nimpudent way (for the mollys are audacious fellows, as all whalers\nknow), and then asked him where he hailed from, and what land he sighted\nlast.\n\nAnd when Tom told him, he seemed pleased, and said he was a good plucked\none to have got so far.\n\n\"Come along, lads,\" he said to the rest, \"and give this little chap a\ncast over the pack, for Mother Carey's sake. We've eaten blubber enough\nfor to-day, and we'll e'en work out a bit of our time by helping the\nlad.\"\n\nSo the mollys took Tom up on their backs, and flew off with him,\nlaughing and joking--and oh, how they did smell of train oil!\n\nAnd now they came to the edge of the pack, and beyond it they could see\nShiny Wall looming, through mist, and snow, and storm. But the pack\nrolled horribly upon the swell, and the ice giants fought and roared,\nand leapt upon each other's backs, and ground each other to powder, so\nthat Tom was afraid to venture among them, lest he should be ground to\npowder too.\n\nBut the good mollys took Tom and his dog up, and flew with them safe\nover the pack and the roaring ice giants, and set them down at the foot\nof Shiny Wall.\n\n\"And where is the gate?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"There is no gate,\" said the mollys.\n\n\"No gate?\" cried Tom, aghast.\n\n\"None; never a crack of one, and that's the whole of the secret, as\nbetter fellows, lad, than you have found to their cost; and if there had\nbeen, they'd have killed by now every right whale [Footnote: A right\nwhale is a whale which yields much whalebone and much oil; it is so\ncalled because it is the \"right\" whale to take.] that swims the sea.\"\n\n\"What am I to do, then?\"\n\n\"Dive under the floe, to be sure, if you have pluck,\"\n\n\"I've not come so far to turn now,\" said Tom; \"so here goes for a\nheader.\"\n\n\"A lucky voyage to you, lad,\" said the mollys; \"we knew you were one of\nthe right sort. So good-bye.\" \"Why don't you come too?\" asked Tom.\n\nBut the mollys only wailed sadly, \"We can't go yet, we can't go yet,\"\nand flew away over the pack.\n\nSo Tom dived under the great white gate which never was opened yet, and\nwent on in black darkness, at the bottom of the sea, for seven days and\nseven nights. And yet he was not a bit frightened. Why should he be? He\nwas a brave English lad, whose business is to go out and see all the\nworld.\n\nAnd at last he saw the light, and clear, clear water overhead; and up he\ncame a thousand fathoms, among clouds of sea moths, which fluttered\nround his head. There were moths with pink heads and wings and opal\nbodies, that flapped about slowly; moths with brown wings that flapped\nabout quickly; yellow shrimps that hopped and skipped most quickly of\nall; and jellies of all the colours in the world, that neither hopped\nnor skipped, but only dawdled and yawned, and would not get out of his\nway. The dog snapped at them till his jaws were tired; but Tom hardly\nminded them at all, he was so eager to get to the top of the water, and\nsee the pool where the good whales go.\n\nAnd a very large pool it was, miles and miles across, though the air was\nso clear that the ice cliffs on the opposite side looked as if they were\nclose at hand. All round it the ice cliffs rose, in walls and spires and\nbattlements, and caves and bridges, and stories and galleries, in which\nthe ice fairies live, and drive away the storms and clouds, that Mother\nCarey's pool may lie calm from year's end to year's end. And the sun\nacted policeman, and walked round outside every day, peeping just over\nthe top of the ice wall, to see that all went right; and now and then he\nplayed conjuring tricks, or had an exhibition of fireworks, to amuse the\nice fairies. For he would make himself into four or five suns at once,\nor paint the sky with rings and crosses and crescents of white fire, and\nstick himself in the middle of them, and wink at the fairies; and I\ndaresay they were very much amused, for anything's fun in the country.\n\nAnd there the good whales lay, the happy, sleepy beasts, upon the still\noily sea. They were all right whales, you must know, and finners, and\nrazor-backs, and bottle-noses, and spotted sea unicorns with long ivory\nhorns. But the sperm whales are such raging, ramping, roaring,\nrumbustious fellows, that, if Mother Carey let them in, there would be\nno more peace in Peacepool. So she packs them away in a great pond by\nthemselves at the South Pole, two hundred and sixty-three miles south-\nsoutheast of Mount Erebus, the great volcano in the ice; and there they\nbutt each other with their ugly noses, day and night from year's end to\nyear's end.\n\nTom swam up to the nearest whale, and asked the way to Mother Carey.\n\n\"There she sits in the middle,\" said the whale.\n\nTom looked; but he could see nothing in the middle of the pool but one\npeaked iceberg, and he said so.\n\n\"That's Mother Carey,\" said the whale, \"as you will find when you get to\nher. There she sits making old beasts into new all the year round.\"\n\n\"How does she do that?\"\n\n\"That's her concern, not mine,\" said the old whale; and yawned so wide\n(for he was very large) that there swam into his mouth 943 sea moths,\n13,846 jellyfish no bigger than pins' heads, a string of salpae nine\nyards long, and forty-three little ice crabs, who gave each other a\nparting pinch all round, tucked their legs under their stomachs, and\ndetermined to die decently, like Julius Caesar.\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Tom, \"she cuts up a great whale like you into a whole\nshoal of porpoises?\"\n\nAt which the old whale laughed so violently that he coughed up all the\ncreatures; who swam away again, very thankful at having escaped out of\nthat terrible whalebone net of his, from which bourne no traveler\nreturns; and Tom went on to the iceberg, wondering.\n\nAnd when he came near it, it took the form of the grandest old lady he\nhad ever seen--a white marble lady, sitting on a white marble throne.\nAnd from the foot of the throne there swam away, out and out into the\nsea, millions of newborn creatures, of more shapes and colours than man\never dreamed. And they were Mother Carey's children, whom she makes out\nof the sea water all day long.\n\nShe sat quite still with her chin upon her hand, looking down into the\nsea with two great, grand blue eyes, as blue as the sea itself. Her hair\nwas as white as the snow, for she was very, very old--in fact, as old as\nanything which you are likely to come across, except the difference\nbetween right and wrong. And when she saw Tom, she looked at him very\nkindly.\n\n\"What do you want, my little man? It is long since I have seen a water\nbaby here.\"\n\nTom told her his errand, and asked the way to the Other-end-of-Nowhere.\n\n\"You ought to know yourself, for you have been there already,\"\n\n\"Have I, ma'am? I'm sure I forgot all about it.\"\n\n\"Then look at me.\"\n\nAnd as Tom looked into her great blue eyes, he recollected the way\nperfectly.\n\nNow, was not that strange?\n\n\"Thank you, ma'am,\" said Tom. \"Then I won't trouble your ladyship any\nmore; I hear you are very busy.\"\n\n\"And now, my pretty little man,\" said Mother Carey, \"you are sure you\nknow the way to the Other-end-of-Nowhere?\" Tom thought; and behold, he\nhad forgotten it utterly.\n\n\"That is because you took your eyes off me.\"\n\nTom looked at her again, and recollected; and then looked away, and\nforgot in an instant.\n\n\"But what am I to do, ma'am? For I can't keep looking at you when I am\nsomewhere else.\"\n\n\"You must do without me, as most people have to do, for nine hundred and\nninety-nine thousandths of their lives; and look at the dog instead; for\nhe knows the way well enough, and will not forget it. Besides, you may\nmeet some very queer-tempered people there, who will not let you pass\nwithout this passport of mine, which you must hang round your neck and\ntake care of; and, of course, as the dog will always go behind you, you\nmust go the whole way backward.\"\n\n\"Backward!\" cried Tom. \"Then I shall not be able to see my way.\"\n\n\"On the contrary, if you look forward, you will not see a step before\nyou, and be certain to go wrong; but if you look behind you, and watch\ncarefully whatever you have passed, and especially keep your eye on the\ndog, who goes by instinct, and therefore can't go wrong, then you will\nknow what is coming next, as plainly as if you saw it in a looking-\nglass.\"\n\nTom was very much astonished; but he obeyed her, for he had learnt\nalways to believe what the fairies told him.\n\nTom was very sorely tried; for though, by keeping the dog to heels (or\nrather to toes, for he had to walk backward), he could see pretty well\nwhich way the dog was hunting, yet it was much slower work to go\nbackwards than to go forwards.\n\nBut I am proud to say that, though Tom had not been to Cambridge--for if\nhe had he would have certainly been senior wrangler--he was such a\nlittle dogged, hard, gnarly, foursquare brick of an English boy, that he\nnever turned his head round once all the way from Peacepool to the\nOther-end-of-Nowhere; but kept his eye on the dog, and let him pick out\nthe scent, hot or cold, straight or crooked, wet or dry, up hill or down\ndale; by which means he never made a mistake, or had to retrace a single\nstep.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII AND LAST\n\n\nNow, as soon as Tom had left Peacepool, he came to the white lap of the\ngreat sea mother, ten thousand fathoms deep; where she makes world-pap\nall day long, for the steam giants to knead, and the fire giants to\nbake, till it has risen and hardened into mountain-loaves and island-\ncakes.\n\nAnd there Tom was very near being kneaded up in the world-pap, and\nturned into a fossil water baby; which would have astonished the\nGeological Society of New Zealand some hundreds of thousands of years\nhence.\n\nFor as he walked along in the silence of the sea twilight, on the soft\nwhite ocean floor, he was aware of a hissing, and a roaring, and a\nthumping, and a pumping, as of all the steam engines in the world at\nonce. And when he came near, the water grew boiling hot; not that that\nhurt him in the least; but it also grew as foul as gruel; and every\nmoment he stumbled over dead shells, and fish, and sharks, and seals,\nand whales, which had been killed by the hot water.\n\nAnd at last he came to the great sea serpent himself, lying dead at the\nbottom; and as he was too thick to scramble over, Tom had to walk round\nhim three quarters of a mile and more, which put him out of his path\nsadly; and when he had got round, he came to the place called Stop. And\nthere he stopped, and just in time.\n\nFor he was on the edge of a vast hole in the bottom of the sea, up which\nwas rushing and roaring clear steam enough to work all the engines in\nthe world at once; so clear, indeed, that it was quite light at moments,\nand Tom could see almost up to the top of the water above, and down\nbelow into the pit for nobody knows how far.\n\nBut as soon as he bent his head over the edge, he got such a rap on the\nnose from pebbles, that he jumped back again; for the steam, as it\nrushed up, rasped away the sides of the hole, and hurled it up into the\nsea in a shower of mud and gravel and ashes; and then it spread all\naround, and sank again, and covered in the dead fish so fast, that\nbefore Tom had stood there five minutes he was buried in silt up to his\nankles, and began to be afraid that he should have been buried alive.\n\nAnd perhaps he would have been, but that while he was thinking, the\nwhole piece of ground on which he stood was torn up and blown upwards,\nand away flew Tom a mile up through the sea, wondering what was coming\nnext.\n\nAt last he stopped--thump! and found himself tight in the legs of the\nmost wonderful bogy which he had ever seen.\n\nIt had I don't know how many wings, as big as the sails of a windmill,\nand spread out in a ring like them; and with them it hovered over the\nsteam which rushed up, as a ball hovers over the top of a fountain. And\nfor every wing before it had a leg below, with a claw like a comb at the\ntip, and a nostril at the root; and in the middle it had no stomach and\none eye; and as for its mouth, that was all on one side, as the\nmadreporiform tubercle in a starfish is. Well, it was a very strange\nbeast; but no stranger than some dozens which you may see.\n\n\"What do you want here,\" it cried quite peevishly, \"getting in my way?\"\nand it tried to drop Tom; but he held on tight to its claws, thinking\nhimself safer where he was.\n\nSo Tom told him who he was, and what his errand was. And the thing\nwinked its one eye, and sneered:\n\n\"I am too old to be taken in in that way. You are come after gold--I\nknow you are.\"\n\n\"Gold! What is gold!\" And really Tom did not know; but the suspicious\nold bogy would not believe him.\n\nBut after a while Tom began to understand a little. For, as the vapours\ncame up out of the hole, the bogy smelt them with his nostrils, and\ncombed them and sorted them with his combs; and then, when they steamed\nup through them against his wings, they were changed into showers and\nstreams of metal. From one wing fell gold dust, and from another silver,\nand from another copper, and from another tin, and from another lead,\nand so on, and sank into the soft mud, into veins and cracks, and\nhardened there. Whereby it comes to pass that the rocks are full of\nmetal.\n\nBut, all of a sudden, somebody shut off the steam below, and the hole\nwas left empty in an instant; and then down rushed the water into the\nhole, in such a whirlpool that the bogy spun round and round as fast as\na teetotum. But that was all in his day's work, like a fair fall with\nthe hounds; so all he did was to say to Tom:\n\n\"Now is your time, youngster, to get down, if you are in earnest, which\nI don't believe.\"\n\n\"You'll soon see,\" said Tom; and away he went, as bold as Baron\nMunchausen, and shot down the rushing cataract like a salmon at\nBallisodare.\n\nAnd when he got to the bottom, he swam till he was washed on shore safe\nupon the Other-end-of-Nowhere; and he found it, to his surprise, as most\nother people do, much more like This-end-of-Somewhere than he had been\nin the habit of expecting.\n\nThere Tom saw ploughs drawing horses, nails driving hammers, birds'\nnests taking boys, books making authors, bulls keeping china shops,\nmonkeys shaving cats, dead dogs drilling live lions, and, in short,\nevery one set to do something which he had not learnt, because in what\nhe had learnt, or pretended to learn, he had failed.\n\nOn the borders of that island he found Gotham, where the wise men live;\nthe same who dragged the pond because the moon had fallen into it, and\nplanted a hedge round the cuckoo, to keep spring all the year. And he\nfound them bricking up the town gate, because it was so wide that little\nfolks could not get through.\n\nSo he went on, for it was no business of his; only he could not help\nsaying that in his country if the kitten could not get in at the same\nhole as the cat, she might stay outside and mew.\n\nThen Tom came to a very famous island, which was called, in the days of\nthe great traveler Captain Gulliver, the Isle of Laputa. [Footnote:\nSwift describes, in Gulliver's Travels, a flying island, called Laputa.\nThe inhabitants were quacks, so absorbed in their false science that\nthey had eyes and ears for nothing else, and were therefore followed\nabout by servants who \"flapped\" them with a blown-up bladder, when they\nwere expected to hear or to see or to say anything.] But Mrs.\nBedonebyasyoudid has named it over again, the Isle of Tomtoddies, all\nheads and no bodies.\n\nAnd when Tom came near it, he heard such a grumbling and grunting and\ngrowling and wailing and weeping and whining that he thought people must\nbe ringing little pigs, or cropping puppies' ears, or drowning kittens;\nbut when he came nearer still, he began to hear words among the noise;\nwhich was the Tomtoddies' song which they sing morning and evening, and\nall night too, to their great idol Examination--\n\n\"I CAN'T LEARN MY LESSON; THE EXAMINER'S COMING!\"\n\nAnd that was the only song which they knew.\n\nAnd when Tom got on shore the first thing he saw was a great pillar, on\none side of which was inscribed, \"Playthings not allowed here;\" at which\nhe was so shocked that he would not stay to see what was written on the\nother side. Then he looked round for the people of the island; but\ninstead of men, women, and children, he found nothing but turnips and\nradishes, beets and mangold wurzel, without a single green leaf among\nthem, and half of them burst and decayed, with toadstools growing out of\nthem. Those which were left began crying to Tom, in half a dozen\ndifferent languages at once, and all of them badly spoken, \"I can't\nlearn my lesson; do come and help me!\"\n\n\"And what good on earth would it do you if I did help you?\" quoth Tom.\n\nWell, they didn't know that; all they knew was the examiner was coming.\n\nThen Tom stumbled on the hugest and softest nimblecomequick turnip you\never saw filling a hole in a crop of swedes, and it cried to him, \"Can\nyou tell me anything at all about anything you like?\"\n\n\"About what?\" says Tom.\n\n\"About anything you like; for as fast as I learn things I forget them\nagain. So my mamma says that my intellect is not adapted for methodic\nscience, and says that I must go in for general information.\"\n\nTom told him that he did not know general information, nor any officers\nin the army; only he had a friend once that went for a drummer; but he\ncould tell him a great many strange things which he had seen in his\ntravels.\n\nSo he told him prettily enough, while the poor turnip listened very\ncarefully; and the more he listened, the more he forgot, and the more\nwater ran out of him.\n\nTom thought he was crying; but it was only his poor brains running away,\nfrom being worked so hard; and as Tom talked, the unhappy turnip\nstreamed down all over with juice, and split and shrank till nothing was\nleft of him but rind and water; whereat Tom ran away in a fright, for he\nthought he might be taken up for killing the turnip.\n\nBut, on the contrary, the turnip's parents were highly delighted, and\nconsidered him a saint and a martyr, and put up a long inscription over\nhis tomb about his wonderful talents, early development, and\nunparalleled precocity. Were they not a foolish couple? But there was\nstill a more foolish couple next to them, who were beating a wretched\nlittle radish, no bigger than my thumb, for sullenness and obstinacy and\nwilful stupidity, and never knew that the reason why it couldn't learn\nor hardly even speak was, that there was a great worm inside it eating\nout all its brains. But even they are no foolisher than some hundred\nscore of papas and mammas, who fetch the rod when they ought to fetch a\nnew toy, and send to the dark cupboard instead of to the doctor.\n\nTom was so puzzled and frightened with all he saw, that he was longing\nto ask the meaning of it; and at last he stumbled over a respectable old\nstick lying half covered with earth. But a very stout and worthy stick\nit was, for it belonged to good Roger Ascham [Footnote: Roger Ascham was\na famous English scholar and writer of the sixteenth century. He was\nteacher of languages to Princess, afterward Queen, Elizabeth, and later,\nwas Latin secretary to both Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth.] in old\ntime.\n\n\"You see,\" said the stick, \"they were as pretty little children once as\nyou could wish to see, and might have been so still if they had been\nonly left to grow up like human beings, and then handed over to me; but\ntheir foolish fathers and mothers, instead of letting them pick flowers,\nand make dirt-pies, and get birds' nests, and dance round the gooseberry\nbush, as little children should, kept them always at lessons, working,\nworking, working, learning week-day lessons all week-days, and Sunday\nlessons all Sunday, and weekly examinations every Saturday, and monthly\nexaminations every month, and yearly examinations every year, everything\nseven times over, as if once was not enough, and enough as good as a\nfeast--till their brains grew big, and their bodies grew small, and they\nwere all changed into turnips, with little but water inside; and still\ntheir foolish parents actually pick the leaves off them as fast as they\ngrow, lest they should have anything green about them.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Tom, \"if Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby knew of it she would send\nthem a lot of tops, and balls, and marbles, and nine-pins, and make them\nall as jolly as sand-boys.\"\n\n\"It would be no use,\" said the stick. \"They can't play now, if they\ntried. Don't you see how their legs have turned to roots and grown into\nthe ground, by never taking any exercise, but sapping and moping always\nin the same place.\n\n\"But here comes the Examiner-of-all-Examiners. So you had better get\naway, I warn you, or he will examine you and your dog into the bargain,\nand set him to examine all the other dogs, and you to examine all the\nother water babies. There is no escaping out of his hands, for his nose\nis nine thousand miles long, and can go down chimneys, and through\nkeyholes, upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber, examining all\nlittle boys, and the little boys' tutors likewise. But when he is\nthrashed--so Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid has promised me--I shall have the\nthrashing of him; and if I don't lay it on with a will it's a pity.\"\n\nTom went off, but rather slowly and surlily; for he was somewhat minded\nto face this same Examiner-of-all-Examiners, who came striding among the\npoor turnips, binding heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and laying\nthem on little children's shoulders, like the Scribes and Pharisees of\nold, and not touching the same with one of his fingers; for he had\nplenty of money, and a fine house to live in; which was more than the\npoor turnips had.\n\nAnd next he came to Oldwisefabledom, where the folks were all heathens,\nand worshipped a howling ape.\n\nAnd there he found a little boy sitting in the middle of the road, and\ncrying bitterly.\n\n\"What are you crying for?\" said Tom.\n\n\"Because I am not so frightened as I could wish to be.\"\n\n\"Not frightened? You are a queer little chap; but, if you want to be\nfrightened, here goes--Boo!\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the little boy, \"that is very kind of you; but I don't feel\nthat it has made any impression.\"\n\nTom offered to upset him, punch him, stamp on him, fettle him over the\nhead with a brick, or anything else whatsoever which would give him the\nslightest comfort.\n\nBut he only thanked Tom very civilly, in fine long words which he had\nheard other folk use, and which, therefore, he thought were fit and\nproper to use himself; and cried on till his papa and mamma came.\n\nThen Tom came to a very quiet place, called Leaveheavenalone. And there\nthe sun was drawing water out of the sea to make steam-threads, and the\nwind was twisting them up to make cloud-patterns, till they had worked\nbetween them the loveliest wedding veil of Chantilly lace, and hung it\nup in their own Crystal Palace for any one to buy who could afford it;\nwhile the good old sea never grudged, for she knew they would pay her\nback honestly. So the sun span, and the wind wove, and all went well\nwith the great steam loom; as is likely, considering--and considering--\nand considering---\n\nAnd at last, after innumerable adventures, each more wonderful than the\nlast, Tom saw before him a huge building.\n\nHe walked towards it, wondering what it was, and having a strange fancy\nthat he might find Mr. Grimes inside it, till he saw running toward him,\nand shouting \"Stop!\" three or four people, who, when they came nearer,\nwere nothing else than policemen's truncheons, running along without\nlegs or arms.\n\nTom was not astonished. He was long past that. Neither was he\nfrightened; for he had been doing no harm.\n\nSo he stopped; and when the foremost truncheon came up and asked his\nbusiness, he showed Mother Carey's pass; and the truncheon looked at it\nin the oddest fashion; for he had one eye in the middle of his upper\nend, so that when he looked at anything, being quite stiff, he had to\nslope himself, and poke himself, till it was a wonder why he did not\ntumble over; but, being quite full of the spirit of justice (as all\npolicemen, and their truncheons, ought to be), he was always in a\nposition of stable equilibrium, whichever way he put himself.\n\n\"All right--pass on,\" said he at last. And then he added: \"I had better\ngo with you, young man.\" And Tom had no objection, for such company was\nboth respectable and safe; so the truncheon coiled its thong neatly\nround its handle, to prevent tripping itself up--for the thong had got\nloose in running--and marched on by Tom's side.\n\n\"Why have you no policeman to carry you?\" asked Tom after a while.\n\n\"Because we are not like those clumsy-made truncheons in the land world,\nwhich cannot go with-out having a whole man to carry them about. We do\nour own work for ourselves; and do it very well, though I say it who\nshould not.\"\n\n\"Then why have you a thong to your handle?\" asked Tom.\n\n\"To hang ourselves up by, of course, when we are off duty.\"\n\nTom had got his answer, and had no more to say, till they came up to the\ngreat iron door of the prison. And there the truncheon knocked twice,\nwith its own head.\n\nA wicket in the door opened, and out looked a tremendous old brass\nblunderbuss charged up to the muzzle with slugs, who was the porter; and\nTom started back a little at the sight of him.\n\n\"What case is this?\" he asked in a deep voice, out of his broad bell\nmouth.\n\n\"If you please, sir, it is no case; only a young gentleman from her\nladyship, who wants to see Grimes, the master sweep.\"\n\n\"Grimes?\" said the blunderbuss. And he pulled in his muzzle, perhaps to\nlook over his prison lists.\n\n\"Grimes is up chimney No. 345,\" he said from inside. \"So the young\ngentleman had better go on to the roof.\"\n\nTom looked up at the enormous wall, which seemed at least ninety miles\nhigh, and wondered how he should ever get up; but when he hinted that to\nthe truncheon, it settled the matter in a moment. For it whisked round,\nand gave him such a shove behind as sent him up to the roof in no time,\nwith his little dog under his arm.\n\nAnd there he walked along the leads, till he met another truncheon, and\ntold him his errand.\n\n\"Very good,\" it said. \"Come along; but it will be of no use. He is the\nmost unremorseful, hard-hearted, foul-mouthed fellow I have in charge;\nand thinks about nothing but beer and pipes, which are not allowed here,\nof course.\"\n\nSo they walked along over the leads, and very sooty they were, and Tom\nthought the chimneys must want sweeping very much. But he was surprised\nto see that the soot did not stick to his feet, or dirty them in the\nleast. Neither did the live coals, which were lying about in plenty,\nburn him; for he was a water baby.\n\nAnd at last they came to chimney No. 345. Out of the top of it, his head\nand shoulders just showing, stuck poor Mr. Grimes, so sooty, and\nbleared, and ugly, that Tom could hardly bear to look at him. And in his\nmouth was a pipe; but it was not alight, though he was pulling at it\nwith all his might.\n\n\"Attention, Mr. Grimes,\" said the truncheon; \"here is a gentleman come\nto see you.\"\n\nBut Mr. Grimes only said bad words, and kept grumbling, \"My pipe won't\ndraw. My pipe won't draw.\"\n\n\"Keep a civil tongue, and attend!\" said the truncheon; and popped up\njust like Punch, hitting Grimes such a crack over the head with itself,\nthat his brains rattled inside like a dried walnut in its shell. He\ntried to get his hands out, and rub the place; but he could not, for\nthey were stuck fast in the chimney. Now he was forced to attend.\n\n\"Hey!\" he said, \"why, it's Tom! I suppose you have come here to laugh at\nme, you spiteful little atomy?\"\n\nTom assured him he had not, but only wanted to help him.\n\n\"I don't want anything except beer, and that I can't get; and a light to\nthis bothering pipe, and that I can't get either.\"\n\n\"I'll get you one,\" said Tom; and he took up a live coal (there were\nplenty lying about) and put it to Grimes' pipe; but it went out\ninstantly.\n\n\"It's no use,\" said the truncheon, leaning itself up against the chimney\nand looking on. \"I tell you, it is no use. His heart is so cold that it\nfreezes everything that comes near him, You will see that presently,\nplain enough.\"\n\n\"Oh, of course, it's my fault. Everything's always my fault,\" said\nGrimes. \"Now don't go to hit me again\" (for the truncheon started\nupright, and looked very wicked); \"you know, if my arms were only free,\nyou daren't hit me then.\"\n\nThe truncheon leant back against the chimney, and took no notice of the\npersonal insult, like a well-trained policeman as it was, though it was\nready enough to avenge any transgression against morality or order.\n\n\"But can't I help you in any other way? Can't I help you to get out of\nthis chimney?\" said Tom.\n\n\"No,\" interposed the truncheon; \"he has come to the place where\neverybody must help himself; and he will find it out, I hope, before he\nhas done with me.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said Grimes, \"of course it's me. Did I ask to be brought here\ninto the prison? Did I ask to be set to sweep your foul chimneys? Did I\nask to have lighted straw put under me to make me go up? Did I ask to\nstick fast in the very first chimney of all, because it was so\nshamefully clogged up with soot? Did I ask to stay here--I don't know\nhow long--a hundred years, I do believe, and never get my pipe, nor my\nbeer, nor nothing fit for a beast, let alone a man?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered a solemn voice behind. \"No more did Tom, when you behaved\nto him in the very same way.\"\n\nIt was Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid. And when the truncheon saw her, it started\nbolt upright--Attention!--and made such a low bow, that if it had not\nbeen full of the spirit of justice, it must have tumbled on its end, and\nprobably hurt its one eye. And Tom made his bow too.\n\n\"Oh, ma'am,\" he said, \"don't think about me; that's all past and gone,\nand good times and bad times and all times pass over. But may not I help\npoor Mr. Grimes? Mayn't I try and get some of these bricks away, that he\nmay move his arms?\"\n\n\"You may try, of course,\" she said.\n\nSo Tom pulled and tugged at the bricks, but he could not move one. And\nthen he tried to wipe Mr. Grimes' face, but the soot would not come off.\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" he said. \"I have come all this way, through all these\nterrible places, to help you, and now I am of no use at all.\"\n\n\"You had best leave me alone,\" said Grimes; \"you are a good-natured,\nforgiving little chap, and that's truth; but you'd best be off. The\nhail's coming on soon, and it will beat the eyes out of your little\nhead.\"\n\n\"What hail?\"\n\n\"Why, hail that falls every evening here; and till it comes close to me,\nit's like so much warm rain; but then it comes to hail over my head, and\nknocks me about like small shot.\"\n\n\"That hail will never come any more,\" said the strange lady. \"I have\ntold you before what it was. It was your mother's tears, those which she\nshed when she prayed for you by her bedside; but your cold heart froze\nit into hail. But she is gone to heaven now, and will weep no more for\nher graceless son.\"\n\nThen Grimes was silent awhile; and then he looked very sad.\n\n\"So my old mother's gone, and I never there to speak to her! Ah! a good\nwoman she was, and might have been a happy one, in her little school\nthere in Vendale, if it hadn't been for me and my bad ways.\"\n\n\"Did she keep the school at Vendale?\" asked Tom. And then he told Grimes\nall the story of his going to her house, and how she could not abide the\nsight of a chimney-sweep, and then how kind she was, and how he turned\ninto a water baby.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Grimes, \"good reason she had to hate the sight of a chimney-\nsweep. I ran away from her and took up with the sweeps, and never let\nher know where I was, nor sent her a penny to help her, and now it's too\nlate--too late!\" said Mr. Grimes.\n\nAnd he began crying and blubbering like a great baby, till his pipe\ndropped out of his mouth, and broke all to bits.\n\n\"Oh, dear, if I was but a little chap in Vendale again, to see the clear\nbeck, and the apple orchard, and the yew hedge, how different I would go\non! But it's too late now. So you go along, you kind little chap, and\ndon't stand to look at a man crying, that's old enough to be your\nfather, and never feared the face of man, nor of worse neither. But I'm\nbeat now, and beat I must be. I've made my bed, and I must lie on it.\nFoul I would be, and foul I am. as an Irishwoman said to me once; and\nlittle I heeded it. It's all my own fault: but it's too late.\" And he\ncried so bitterly that Tom began crying too.\n\n\"Never too late,\" said the fairy, in such a strange soft, new voice that\nTom looked up at her; and she was so beautiful for the moment, that Tom\nhalf fancied she was her sister.\n\nNo more was it too late. For as poor Grimes cried and blubbered on, his\nown tears did what his mother's could not do, and Tom's could not do,\nand nobody's on earth could do for him; for they washed the soot off his\nface and off his clothes; and then they washed the mortar away from\nbetween the bricks; and the chimney crumbled down; and Grimes began to\nget out of it.\n\nUp jumped the truncheon, and was going to hit him on the crown a\ntremendous thump, and drive him down again like a cork into a bottle.\nBut the strange lady put it aside.\n\n\"Will you obey me if I give you a chance?\"\n\n\"As you please, ma'am. You're stronger than me--that I know too well,\nand wiser than me, I know too well also. And as for being my own master,\nI've fared ill enough with that as yet. So whatever your ladyship\npleases to order me; for I'm beat, and that's the truth.\"\n\n\"Be it so then--you may come out. But remember, disobey me again, and\ninto a worse place still you go.\"\n\n\"I beg pardon, ma'am, but I never disobeyed you that I know of. I never\nhad the honour of setting eyes upon you till I came to these ugly\nquarters.\"\n\n\"Never saw me? Who said to you, 'Those that will, be foul, foul they\nwill be'?\"\n\nGrimes looked up; and Tom looked up too; for the voice was that of the\nIrishwoman who met them the day that they went out together to\nHarthover. \"I gave you your warning then, but you gave it yourself a\nthousand times before and since. Every bad word that you said--every\ncruel and mean thing that you did--every time that you got tipsy--every\nday that you went dirty--you were disobeying me, whether you knew it or\nnot.\"\n\n\"If I'd only known, ma'am---\"\n\n\"You knew well enough that you were disobeying something, though you did\nnot know it was me. But come out and take your chance. Perhaps it may be\nyour last.\"\n\nSo Grimes stepped out of the chimney, and really, if it had not been for\nthe scars on his face, he looked as clean and respectable as a master\nsweep need look.\n\n\"Take him away,\" she said to the truncheon, \"and give him his ticket of\nleave.\"\n\n\"And what is he to do, ma'am?\"\n\n\"Get him to sweep out the crater of Etna; he will find some very steady\nmen working out their time there, who will teach him his business: but\nmind, if that crater gets choked again, and there is an earthquake in\nconsequence, bring them all to me, and I shall investigate the case very\nseverely.\"\n\nSo the truncheon marched off Mr. Grimes, looking as meek as a drowned\nworm.\n\nAnd for aught I know, or do not know, he is sweeping the crater of Etna\nto this very day.\n\n\"And now,\" said the fairy to Tom, \"your work here is done. You may as\nwell go back again.\"\n\n\"I should he glad enough to go,\" said Tom, \"but how am I to get up that\ngreat hole again, now the steam has stopped blowing?\"\n\n\"I will take you up the back stairs, but I must bandage your eyes first;\nfor I never allow anybody to see those back stairs of mine.\"\n\n\"I am sure I shall not tell anybody about them, ma'am, if you bid me\nnot.\"\n\n\"Aha! So you think, my little man. But you would soon forget your\npromise if you got back into the land world. I never put things into\nlittle folks' heads which are but too likely to come there of\nthemselves. So come--now I must bandage your eyes.\"\n\nSo she tied the bandage on his eyes with one hand, and with the other\nshe took it off.\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"you are safe up the stairs.\" Tom opened his eyes very\nwide, and his mouth, too; for he had not, as he thought, moved a single\nstep. But, when he looked round him, there could be no doubt that he was\nsafe up the back stairs, whatsoever they may be, which no man is going\nto tell you, for the plain reason that no man knows.\n\nThe first thing which Tom saw was the black cedars, high and sharp\nagainst the rosy dawn; and Saint Brandan's Isle reflected double in the\nstill, broad, silver sea. The wind sang softly in the cedars, and the\nwater sang among the caves: the sea birds sang as they streamed out into\nthe ocean, and the land birds as they built among the boughs; and the\nair was so full of song that it stirred Saint Brandan and her hermits,\nas they slumbered in the shade; and they moved their good old lips, and\nsang their morning hymn amid their dreams. But among all the songs one\ncame across the water more sweet and clear than all; for it was the song\nof a young girl's voice.\n\nAnd what was the song which she sang? Ah, my little man, I am too old to\nsing that song, and you too young to understand it. But have patience,\nand keep your eye single, and your hands clean, and you will learn some\nday to sing it yourself, without needing any man to teach you.\n\nAnd as Tom neared the island, there sat upon a rock the most graceful\ncreature that ever was seen, looking down, with her chin upon her hand,\nand paddling with her feet in the water. And when they came to her she\nlooked up, and behold, it was Ellie.\n\n\"Oh, Miss Ellie,\" said he, \"how you are grown!\"\n\n\"Oh, Tom,\" said she, \"how you are grown, too!\"\n\nAnd no wonder; they were both quite grown up--he into a tall man, and\nshe into a beautiful woman.\n\n\"Perhaps I may be grown,\" she said. \"I have had time enough; for I have\nbeen sitting here waiting for you many a hundred years, till I thought\nyou were never coming.\"\n\n\"Many a hundred years?\" thought Tom; but he had seen so much in his\ntravels that he had quite given up being astonished; and, indeed, he\ncould think of nothing but Ellie. So he stood and looked at Ellie, and\nEllie looked at him; and they liked the employment so much that they\nstood and looked for seven years more, and neither spoke nor stirred.\n\nAt last they heard the fairy say, \"Attention, children. Are you never\ngoing to look at me again?\"\n\n\"We have been looking at you all this while,\" they said. And so they\nthought they had been.\n\n\"Then look at me once more,\" she said.\n\nThey looked--and both of them cried out at once, \"Oh, who are you, after\nall?\"\n\n\"You are our dear Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby.\"\n\n\"No, you are good Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid; but you are grown quite\nbeautiful now!\"\n\n\"To you,\" said the fairy. \"But look again.\"\n\n\"You are Mother Carey,\" said Tom, in a very low, solemn voice; for he\nhad found out something which made him very happy, and yet frightened\nhim more than all that he had ever seen.\n\n\"But you are grown quite young again.\"\n\n\"To you,\" said the fairy. \"Look again.\"\n\n\"You are the Irishwoman who met me the day I went to Harthover!\"\n\nAnd when they looked she was neither of them, and yet all of them at\nonce.\n\n\"My name is written in my eyes, if you have eyes to see it there.\"\n\nAnd they looked into her great, deep, soft eyes, and they changed again\nand again into every hue, as the light changes in a diamond.\n\n\"Now read my name,\" said she, at last.\n\nAnd her eyes flashed, for one moment, clear, white, blazing light; but\nthe children could not read her name; for they were dazzled, and hid\ntheir faces in their hands.\n\n\"Not yet, young things, not yet,\" said she, smiling; and then she turned\nto Ellie.\n\n\"You may take him home with you now on Sundays, Ellie. He has won his\nspurs in the great battle, and become fit to go with you and be a man,\nbecause he has done the thing he did not like.\"\n\nSo Tom went home with Ellie on Sundays, and sometimes on week-days, too;\nand he is now a great man of science, and can plan railroads, and steam\nengines, and electric telegraphs, and rifled guns, and so forth; and\nknows everything about everything, except why a hen's egg doesn't turn\ninto a crocodile, and two or three other little things. And all this\nfrom what he learnt when he was a water baby, underneath the sea.\n\n\"And of course Tom married Ellie?\"\n\nMy dear child, what a silly notion! Don't you know that no one ever\nmarries in a fairy tale, under the rank of a prince or a princess?\n\n\"And Tom's dog?\"\n\nOh, you may see him any clear night in July; for the old dog star was so\nworn out by the last three hot summers that there have been no dog days\nsince; so that they had to take him down and put Tom's dog up in his\nplace. Therefore, as new brooms sweep clean, we may hope for some warm\nweather this year. And that is the end of my story.\n\n\n\nMORAL\n\nAnd now, my dear little man, what should we learn from this parable?\n\nWe should learn thirty-seven or thirty-nine things, I am not exactly\nsure which; but one thing, at least, we may learn, and that is this--\nwhen we see efts in the pond, never to throw stones at them, or catch\nthem with crooked pins. For these efts are nothing else but the water\nbabies who are stupid and dirty, and will not learn their lessons and\nkeep themselves clean; and therefore, their skulls grow flat, their jaws\ngrow out, and their brains grow small, and their tails grow long, and\ntheir skins grow dirty and spotted, and they never get into the clear\nrivers, much less into the great wide sea, but hang about in dirty\nponds, and live in the mud, and eat worms, as they deserve to do.\n\nBut that is no reason why you should ill-use them; but only why you\nshould pity them, and be kind to them, and hope that some day they will\nwake up, and be ashamed of their nasty, dirty, lazy, stupid life, and\ntry to amend, and become something better once more. For, perhaps, if\nthey do so, then after 379,423 years, nine months, thirteen days, two\nhours, and twenty-one minutes, if they work very hard and wash very hard\nall that time, their brains may grow bigger, and their jaws grow\nsmaller, and their tails wither off, and they will turn into water\nbabies again, and perhaps after that into land babies; and after that\nperhaps into grown men.\n\nMeanwhile, do you learn your lessons, and thank God that you have plenty\nof cold water to wash in; and wash in it too, like a true Englishman.\nAnd then, if my story is not true, something better is; and if I am not\nquite right, still you will be, as long as you stick to hard work and\ncold water.\n\nBut remember always, as I told you at first, that this is all a fairy\ntale, and only fun and pretence; and, therefore, you are not to believe\na word of it, even if it is true.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MILKMAID\n\nBy Jeffreys Taylor\n\n\nA milkmaid, who poised a full pail on her head,\nThus mused on her prospects in life, it is said:\n\"Let me see,--I should think that this milk will procure\nOne hundred good eggs, or fourscore, to be sure.\n\n\"Well then,--stop a bit,--it must not be forgotten,\nSome of these may be broken, and some may be rotten;\nBut if twenty for accident should be detached,\nIt will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched.\n\n\"Well, sixty sound eggs,--no, sound chickens, I mean:\nOf these some may die,--we'll suppose seventeen;\nSeventeen! not so many,--say ten at the most,\nWhich will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast.\n\n\"But then there's their barley; how much will they need?\nWhy, they take but one grain at a time when they feed,--\nSo that's a mere trifle; now then, let us see,\nAt a fair market price how much money there'll be.\n\n\"Six shillings a pair--five--four--three-and-six--\nTo prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix;\nNow what will that make? fifty chickens, I said,--\nFifty times three-and-sixpence--I'LL ASK BROTHER NED.\n\n\"Oh, but stop,--three-and-sixpence a PAIR I must sell 'em;\nWell, a pair is a couple,--now then let us tell 'em;\nA couple in fifty will go (my poor brain!)\nWhy, just a score times, and five pair will remain.\n\n\"Twenty-five pair of fowls--now how tiresome it is\nThat I can't reckon up so much money as this!\nWell, there's no use in trying, so let's give a guess,--\nI'll say twenty pounds, AND IT CAN'T BE NO LESS.\n\n\"Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow,\nThirty geese, and two turkeys,--eight pigs and a sow;\nNow if these turn out well, at the end of the year,\nI shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 'tis clear.\"\n\nForgetting her burden, when this she had said,\nThe maid superciliously tossed up her head:\nWhen, alas for her prospects! her milk-pail descended,\nAnd so all her schemes for the future were ended.\n\nThis moral, I think, may be safely attached,--\n\"Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched.\"\n\n\nThis amusing little poem may be made to seem even funnier if we stop to\nthink what an absurd little milkmaid she really was! Let us ask\nourselves a few questions:\n\nHow many quarts of milk were probably in the pail? How many dozen eggs\nin a hundred? What is milk worth a quart? What are eggs worth a dozen?\nWas she carrying enough milk to buy a hundred, or even fourscore, good\neggs?\n\nDoes a farmer count on having sixty out of eighty eggs hatch\nsuccessfully? If he has sixty chickens hatched, can he count with\ncertainty on fifty growing big enough to boil or roast?\n\nIs it true that the cost of the grain to feed them is a mere trifle?\n\nHow much is an English shilling in our money? Is a dollar and a half a\npair too much to expect for good chickens? Is eighty-seven and a half\ncents too small a price for a pair? Is twenty pounds too much or too\nlittle for twenty-five pairs of chickens at three shillings and sixpence\nper pair?\n\nIf she could get twenty pounds for her chickens, could she buy a cow,\nthirty geese, two turkeys and a sow with a litter of eight pigs for the\nmoney?\n\n\n\n\nHOLGER DANSKE\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\nNOTE.--The first paragraphs of this story contain an old Danish legend\nwhich Hans Christian Andersen uses very skilfully. We can imagine that\nthe story would mean a great deal more to boys of Denmark than it does\nto us, for they would be a great deal more familiar with the people\nreferred to than we are; but there is so much in the story that is not\nconfined to Denmark, and it is told in such a fascinating way, that even\nthe boys of the United States will find it interesting.\n\nIn Denmark there lies a castle named Kronenburgh. It lies close by the\nOer Sound, where the ships pass through by hundreds every day--English,\nRussian, and likewise Prussian ships. And they salute the old castle\nwith cannons--'Boom!' And the castle answers with a 'Boom!' for that's\nwhat the cannons say instead of 'Good day' and 'Thank you!' In winter no\nships sail there, for the whole sea is covered with ice quite across to\nthe Swedish coast; but it has quite the look of a highroad. There wave\nthe Danish flag and the Swedish flag, and Danes and Swedes say 'Good\nday' and 'Thank you!' to each other, not with cannons, but with a\nfriendly grasp of the hand; and one gets white bread and biscuits from\nthe other--for strange fare tastes best.\n\n\"But the most beautiful of all is the old Kronenburgh; and here it is\nthat Holger Danske sits in the deep, dark cellar, where nobody goes. He\nis clad in iron and steel, and leans his head on his strong arm; his\nlong beard hangs down over the marble table, and has grown into it. He\nsleeps and dreams, but in his dreams he sees everything that happens up\nthere in Denmark. Every Christmas Eve comes an angel, and tells him that\nwhat he has dreamed is right, and that he may go to sleep in quiet, for\nthat Denmark is not yet in any real danger; but when once such a danger\ncomes, then old Holger Danske will rouse himself, so that the table\nshall burst when he draws out his beard! Then he will come forth and\nstrike, so that it shall be heard in all the countries in the world.\"\n\nAn old grandfather sat and told his little grandson all this about\nHolger Danske; and the little boy knew that what his grandfather told\nhim was true. And while the old man sat and told his story, he carved an\nimage which was to represent Holger Danske, and to be fastened to the\nprow of a ship; for the old grandfather was a carver of figureheads,\nthat is, one who cuts out the figures fastened to the front of ships,\nfrom which every ship is named. And here he had cut out Holger Danske,\nwho stood there proudly with his long beard, and held the broad battle-\nsword in one hand, while with the other he leaned upon the Danish arms.\n\nAnd the old grandfather told him so much about distinguished men and\nwomen, that it appeared at last to the little grandson as if he knew as\nmuch as Holger Danske himself, who, after all, could only dream; and\nwhen the little fellow was in his bed, he thought so much of it, that he\nactually pressed his chin against the coverlet, and fancied he had a\nlong beard that had grown fast to it.\n\nBut the old grandfather remained sitting at his work, and carved away at\nthe last part of it; and this was the Danish coat of arms. When he had\nfinished, he looked at the whole, and thought of all he had read and\nheard, and that he had told this evening to the little boy; and he\nnodded, and wiped his spectacles, and put them on again, and said:\n\n\"Yes, in my time Holger Danske will probably not come; but the boy in\nthe bed yonder may get to see him, and be there when the struggle really\ncomes.\"\n\nAnd the good old grandfather nodded again; and the more he looked at\nHolger Danske, the more plain did it become to him that it was a good\nimage he had carved. It seemed really to gain color, and the armor\nappeared to gleam like iron and steel; the hearts in the Danish arms\nbecame redder and redder, and the lions with the golden crowns on their\nheads leaped up. [Footnote: The Danish arms consist of three lions and\nnine hearts.]\n\n\"That's the most beautiful coat of arms there is in the world!\" said the\nold man. \"The lions are strength, and the heart is gentleness and love!\"\n\nAnd he looked at the uppermost lion, and thought of King Canute, who\nbound great England to the throne of Denmark; and he looked at the\nsecond lion, and thought of Waldemar, who united Denmark and conquered\nthe Wendish lands; and he glanced at the third lion, and remembered\nMargaret, who united Denmark, Sweden and Norway. But while he looked at\nthe red hearts, they gleamed more brightly than before; they became\nflames, and his heart followed each of them.\n\n[Illustration: HOLGER DANSKE]\n\nThe first heart led him into a dark, narrow prison; there sat a\nprisoner, a beautiful woman, the daughter of King Christian IV, Eleanor\nUlfeld; [Footnote: This princess was the wife of Corfitz Ulfeld, who was\naccused of high treason. Her only crime was the most faithful love to\nher unhappy consort; but she was compelled to pass twenty-two years in a\nhorrible dungeon, until her persecutor, Queen Sophia Amelia, was dead.]\nand the flame, which was shaped like a rose, attached itself to her\nbosom and blossomed, so that it became one with the heart of her, the\nnoblest and best of all Danish women.\n\nAnd his spirit followed the second flame, which led him out upon the\nsea, where the cannons thundered and the ships lay shrouded in smoke;\nand the flame fastened itself in the shape of a ribbon of honor on the\nbreast of Hvitfeld, as he blew himself and his ship into the air, that\nhe might save the fleet.[Footnote: In the naval battle in Kjoge Bay\nbetween the Danes and the Swedes, in 1710, Hvitfeld's ship, the\nDanebrog, took fire. To save the town of Kjoge, and the Danish fleet,\nwhich was being driven by the wind toward his vessel, he blew himself\nand his whole crew into the air.]\n\nAnd the third flame led him to the wretched huts of Greenland, where the\npreacher Hans Egede [Footnote: Hans Egede went to Greenland in 1721, and\ntoiled there during fifteen years among incredible hardships and\nprivations. Not only did he spread Christianity, but exhibited in\nhimself a remarkable example of a Christian man.] wrought, with love in\nevery word and deed; the flame was a star on his breast, another heart\nin the Danish arms.\n\nAnd the spirit of the old grandfather flew on before the waving flames,\nfor his spirit knew whither the flames desired to go. In the humble room\nof the peasant woman stood Frederick VI., writing his name with chalk on\nthe beam.[Footnote: On a journey on the west coast of Jutland, the King\nvisited an old woman. When he had already quitted her house, the woman\nran after him, and begged him, as a remembrance, to write his name upon\na beam; the King turned back, and complied. During his whole lifetime he\nfelt and worked for the peasant class; therefore the Danish peasants\nbegged to be allowed to carry his coffin to the royal vault at\nRoeskilde, four Danish miles from Copenhagen.] The flame trembled on his\nbreast, and trembled in his heart; in the peasant's lowly room his\nheart, too, became a heart in the Danish arms. And the old grandfather\ndried his eyes, for he had known King Frederick with the silvery locks\nand honest blue eyes, and had lived for him; he folded his hands, and\nlooked in silence straight before him.\n\nThen came the daughter-in-law of the old grandfather, and said it was\nlate, and he ought now to rest; for the supper table was spread.\n\n\"But it is beautiful, what you have done, grandfather!\" said she.\n\"Holger Danske, and all our old coat of arms! It seems to me just as if\nI had seen that face before!\"\n\n\"No, that can scarcely be,\" replied the old grandfather; \"but I have\nseen it, and I have tried to carve it in wood as I have kept it in my\nmemory. It was when the English lay in front of the wharf, on the Danish\n2d of April [Footnote: On the 2d of April, 1801, occurred the naval\nbattle between the Danes and the English, under Sir Hyde Parker and\nNelson.] when we showed that we were old Danes. In the Denmark, on board\nwhich I was, in Steen Bille's squadron, I had a man at my side--it\nseemed as if the bullets were afraid of him! Merrily he sang old songs,\nand shot and fought as if he were something more than a man. I remember\nhis face yet; but whence he came, and whither he went, I know not--\nnobody knows. I have often thought he might have been old Holger Danske\nhimself, who had swum down from the Kronenburgh, and aided us in the\nhour of danger; that was my idea, and there stands his picture.\"\n\nAnd the statue threw its great shadow up against the wall, and even over\npart of the ceiling; it looked as though the real Holger Danske were\nstanding behind it, for the shadow moved, but this might have been\nbecause the flame of the candle did not burn steadily.\n\nAnd the daughter-in-law kissed the old grandfather, and led him to the\ngreat armchair by the table; and she and her husband, who was the son of\nthe old man, and father of the little boy in bed, sat and ate their\nsupper; and the grandfather spoke of the Danish lions and of the Danish\nhearts, of strength and of gentleness; and quite clearly did he explain\nthat there was another strength besides the power that lies in the\nsword; and he pointed to the shelf on which were the old books, where\nstood the plays of Kolberg, which had been read so often, for they were\nvery amusing; one could almost fancy one recognized the people of bygone\ndays in them.\n\n\"See, he knew how to strike, too,\" said the grandfather; \"he scourged\nthe foolishness and prejudice of the people so long as he could.\" And\nthe grandfather nodded at the mirror, above which stood the calendar,\nwith the \"Round Tower\" [Footnote: The astronomical observatory at\nCopenhagen.] on it, and said, \"Tycho Brahe was also one who used the\nsword, not to cut into flesh and bone, but to build up a plainer way\namong all the stars of heaven. And then HE, whose father belonged to my\ncalling, the son of the figurehead carver, he whom we have ourselves\nseen, with his silver hairs and his broad shoulders, he whose name is\nspoken of in all lands! Yes, HE was a sculptor; _I_ am only a carver.\nYes, Holger Danske may come in many forms, so that one hears in every\ncountry of Denmark's strength. Shall we now drink the health of Bertel?\"\n[Footnote: Bertel Thorwaldsen, the great Danish sculptor.]\n\n[Illustration: THE FIGUREHEAD]\n\nBut the little lad in the bed saw plainly the old Kronenburgh, with the\nOer Sound, and the real Holger Danske, who sat deep below, with his\nbeard grown through the marble table, dreaming of all that happens up\nhere. Holger Danske also dreamed of the little, humble room where the\ncarver sat; he heard all that passed, and nodded in his sleep, and said:\n\n\"Yes, remember me, ye Danish folk; remember me. I shall come in the hour\nof need.\"\n\nAnd without, by the Kronenburgh, shone the bright day, and the wind\ncarried the note of the hunting horn over from the neighboring land; the\nship sailed past, and saluted, \"Boom! boom!\" and from the Kronenburgh\ncame the reply, \"Boom! boom!\" But Holger Danske did not awake, however\nloudly they shot, for it was only \"Good day\" and \"Thank you!\"\n\nThere must be another kind of shooting before he awakes; but he will\nawake, for there is faith in Holger Danske.\n\nCan you see Holger Danske \"clad in iron and steel?\" Where have you seen\na picture of such clothing? Is it not curious that his beard is said to\nhave grown into the marble? He must have been sitting there for many\ncenturies for such a thing to happen! Do you not understand that the\nlittle boy did not KNOW that Holger Danske was in the deep cellar, but\nmerely believed it to be true? If so, why does the story say he KNEW it?\n\nWhen you read that the Danish Arms consist of \"three lions and nine\nhearts,\" what do you see? Has the United States any arms? What are they?\n\nDo you know a legend about King Canute and the waves of the sea? Can you\nfind out anything more about Waldemar and Margaret?\n\nDo you think the man whose face was carved into a figurehead was really\nHolger Danske? Do you think it possible that the grandfather could mean\nthat every brave man who fights for his country is a Holger Danske? Can\nyou imagine the great figure of Holger Danske throwing its shadow on the\nwall and seeming to move about in the candle light? Does the grandfather\nbelieve that such heroes can do other things than fight?\n\nWhat do you know about Thorwaldsen? Did you ever see a picture of his\nbeautiful statue of Christ? Did the little boy see any other Holger\nDanske than the one whose beard was grown into the marble table?\n\nHas a Holger ever come to save this United States from great danger?\nWould you call Washington and Longfellow and Hawthorne, Holgers? Why?\nCan you name a few men whom the grandfather, had he been an American,\nmight have said were Holgers? Do you not believe that if the people of\nthe United States need a great man he will be forthcoming if we have\nfaith that he will come?\n\nDo you not think that the little Danish boy, by his dreaming about\nHolger Danske, might have come to be the very one to aid his country\nmost? Is it worth while for each of us to try to be a Holger?\n\n\n\n\nWHAT THE OLD MAN DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\nI will tell you the story which was told to me when I was a little boy.\nEvery time I thought of the story it seemed to me to become more and\nmore charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people--they\nbecome better as they grow older.\n\nI take it for granted that you have been in the country, and have seen a\nvery old farmhouse with a thatched roof, and mosses and small plants\ngrowing wild upon the thatch. There is a stork's nest on the summit of\nthe gable; for we can't do without the stork. The walls of the house are\nsloping, and the windows are low, and only one of the latter is made so\nthat it will open. The baking-oven sticks out of the wall like a little\nfat body. The elder tree hangs over the paling, and beneath its\nbranches, at the foot of the paling, is a pool of water in which a few\nducks are disporting themselves. There is a yard dog, too, who barks at\nall comers.\n\nJust such a farmhouse stood out in the country; and in this house dwelt\nan old couple--a peasant and his wife. Small as was their property,\nthere was one article among it that they could do without--a horse, that\nlived on the grass it found by the side of the highroad. The old peasant\nrode into the town on this horse; and often his neighbors borrowed it of\nhim, and rendered the old couple some service in return for the loan of\nit. But they thought it would be best if they sold the horse, or\nexchanged it for something that might be more useful to them. But what\nmight this SOMETHING be?\n\n\"You'll know that best, old man,\" said the wife. \"It is fair day to-day,\nso ride into town, and get rid of the horse for money, or make a good\nexchange; whichever you do will be right to me. Ride off to the fair.\"\n\nAnd she fastened his neckerchief for him, for she could do that better\nthan he could; and she tied it in a double bow, for she could do that\nvery prettily. Then she brushed his hat round and round with the palm of\nher hand, and gave him a kiss. So he rode away upon the horse that was\nto be sold or to be bartered for something else. Yes, the old man knew\nwhat he was about.\n\nThe sun shone hotly down, and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The\nroad was very dusty, for many people, who were all bound for the fair,\nwere driving, or riding, or walking upon it. There was no shelter\nanywhere from the sunbeams.\n\nAmong the rest, a man was trudging along, driving a cow to the fair. The\ncow was as beautiful a creature as any cow can be.\n\n\"She gives good milk, I'm sure,\" said the peasant. \"That would be a very\ngood exchange--the cow for the horse.\"\n\n\"Hallo, you there with the cow!\" he said; \"I tell you what--I fancy a\nhorse costs more than a cow, but I don't care for that; a cow would be\nmore useful to me. If you like, we'll exchange.\"\n\n\"To be sure I will,\" returned the man; and they exchanged accordingly.\n\nSo that was settled, and the peasant might have turned back, for he had\ndone the business he came to do; but as he had once made up his mind to\ngo to the fair, he determined to proceed, merely to have a look at it;\nand so he went on to the town with his cow.\n\nLeading the animal, he strode sturdily on; and after a short time he\novertook a man who was driving a sheep. It was a good fat sheep, with a\nfine fleece on its back.\n\n\"I should like to have that fellow,\" said our peasant to himself. \"He\nwould find plenty of grass by our palings, and in the winter we could\nkeep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would be more practical to have\na sheep instead of a cow. Shall we exchange?\"\n\nThe man with the sheep was quite ready, and the bargain was struck. So\nour peasant went on in the highroad with his sheep.\n\nSoon he overtook another man, who came into the road from a field,\ncarrying a great goose under his arm.\n\n\"That's a heavy thing you have there. It has plenty of feathers and\nplenty of fat, and would look well tied to a string, and paddling in the\nwater at our place. That would be something for my old woman; she could\nmake much profit out of it. How often she has said, 'If we only had a\ngoose!' Now, perhaps, she can have one. Shall we exchange? I'll give you\nmy sheep for your goose, and thank you into the bargain.\"\n\nThe other man had not the least objection; and accordingly they\nexchanged, and our peasant became the owner of the goose.\n\nBy this time he was very near the town. The crowd on the highroad became\ngreater and greater; there was quite a crush of men and cattle. They\nwalked in the road, and close by the paling; and at the barrier they\neven walked into the tollman's potato field, where his own fowl was\nstrutting about with a string to its legs, lest it should take fright at\nthe crowd, and stray away, and so be lost. This fowl had short tail\nfeathers, and winked with both its eyes, and looked very cunning.\n\"Cluck! cluck!\" said the fowl. What it thought when it said this I\ncannot tell you; but as soon as our good man saw it, he thought, \"That's\nthe finest fowl I've ever seen in my life! Why, it's finer than our\nparson's brood hen. On my word, I should like to have that fowl. A fowl\ncan always find a grain or two, and can almost keep itself. I think it\nwould be a good exchange if I could get that in exchange for my goose.\nShall we exchange?\" he asked the toll taker.\n\n\"Exchange!\" repeated the man; \"well, that would not be a bad thing.\"\n\nAnd so they exchanged; the toll taker at the barrier kept the goose, and\nthe peasant carried away the fowl.\n\nNow, he had done a good deal of business on his way to the fair, and he\nwas hot and tired. He wanted something to eat and to drink; and soon he\nwas in front of the inn. He was just about to step in, when the hostler\ncame out; so they met at the door. The hostler was carrying a sack.\n\n\"What have you in that sack?\" asked the peasant.\n\n\"Rotten apples,\" answered the hostler; \"a whole sackful of them--enough\nto feed the pigs with.\"\n\n\"Why, that's terrible waste! I should like to take them to my old woman\nat home. Last year the old tree by the turf-hole only bore a single\napple, and we kept it in the cupboard till it was quite rotten and\nspoiled, 'It was always property,' my old woman said; but here she could\nsee a quantity of property--a whole sackful. Yes, I shall be glad to\nshow them to her.\"\n\n\"What will you give me for the sackful?\" asked the hostler.\n\n\"What will I give? I will give my fowl in exchange.\"\n\nAnd he gave the fowl accordingly, and received the apples, which he\ncarried into the guest room. He leaned the sack carefully by the stove,\nand then went to the table. But the stove was hot; he had not thought of\nthat. Many guests were present--horse dealers, ox-herds, and two\nEnglishmen--and the two Englishmen were so rich that their pockets\nbulged out with gold coins, and almost burst; and they could wager, too,\nas you shall hear.\n\nHiss-s-s! hiss-s-s! What was that by the stove? The apples were\nbeginning to roast.\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Why, do you know---\" said our peasant.\n\nAnd he told the whole story of the horse that he had exchanged for a\ncow, and all the rest of it down to the apples.\n\n\"Well, your old woman will give it you well when you get home,\" said one\nof the Englishmen. \"There will be a disturbance.\"\n\n\"What?--give me what?\" said the peasant.\n\n\"She will kiss me, and say, 'What the old man does is always right.'\"\n\n\"Shall we wager?\" said the Englishman. \"We'll wager coined gold by the\nton--a hundred pounds to the hundredweight!\"\n\n\"A bushel will be enough,\" replied the peasant. \"I can only set the\nbushel of apples against it; and I'll throw myself and my old woman into\nthe bargain--and I fancy that's piling up the measure.\"\n\n\"Done--taken!\"\n\nAnd the bet was made. The host's carriage came up, and the Englishmen\ngot in, and the peasant got in; away they went, and soon they stopped\nbefore the peasant's hut.\n\n\"Good evening, old woman.\"\n\n\"Good evening, old man.\"\n\n\"I've made exchange.\"\n\n\"Yes, you understand what you're about,\" said the woman.\n\nAnd she embraced him, and paid no attention to the stranger guests, nor\ndid she notice the sack.\n\n\"I got a cow in exchange for the horse,\" said he.\n\n\"Heaven be thanked!\" said she. \"What glorious milk we shall now have,\nand butter and cheese upon the table! That was a most capital exchange!\"\n\n\"Yes, but I exchanged the cow for a sheep.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's better still!\" cried the wife. \"You always think of\neverything; we have just pasture enough for a sheep. Ewe's milk and\ncheese, and woolen jackets and stockings! The cow cannot give those, and\nher hairs will only come off. How you think of everything!\"\n\n\"But I changed away the sheep for a goose.\"\n\n\"Then this year we shall have really roast goose to eat, my dear old\nman. You are always thinking of something to give me pleasure. How\ncharming that is! We can let the goose walk about with a string to her\nleg, and she'll grow fatter still before we roast her.\"\n\n\"But I gave away the goose for a fowl,\" said the man.\n\n[Illustration: \"MY DEAR GOOD HUSBAND!\"]\n\n\"A fowl? That WAS a good exchange!\" replied the woman. \"The fowl will\nlay eggs and hatch them, and we shall soon have chickens; we shall have\na whole poultry yard! Oh, that's just what I was wishing for.\"\n\n\"Yes, but I exchanged the fowl for a sack of shriveled apples.\"\n\n\"What!--I must positively kiss you for that,\" exclaimed the wife, \"My\ndear, good husband! Now I'll tell you something. Do you know, you had\nhardly left me this morning, before I began thinking how I could give\nyou something very nice this evening. I thought it should be pancakes\nwith savory herbs. I had eggs, and bacon too; but I wanted herbs. So I\nwent over to the schoolmaster's--they have herbs there, I know--but the\nschoolmistress is a mean woman, though she looks so sweet. I begged her\nto lend me a handful of herbs, 'Lend!' she answered me; 'nothing at all\ngrows in our garden, not even a shriveled apple. I could not even lend\nyou a shriveled apple, my dear woman.' But now _I_ can lend HER twenty,\nor a whole sackful. That I'm very glad of; that makes me laugh!\" And\nwith that she gave him a sounding kiss.\n\n\"I like that!\" exclaimed both the Englishmen together. \"Always going\ndownhill, and always merry; that's worth the money.\"\n\nSo they paid a hundredweight of gold to the peasant, who was not\nscolded, but kissed.\n\nYes, it always pays, when the wife sees and always asserts that her\nhusband knows best, and that whatever he does is right.\n\nYou see, that is my story. I heard it when I was a child; and now you\nhave heard it too, and know that \"What the old man does is always\nright.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON-LOW\n\nBy Mary Howitt\n\n\n\"And where have you been, my Mary,\n   And where have you been from me?\"\n\"I've been to the top of the Caldon-Low,\n   The midsummer night to see!\"\n\n\"And what did you see, my Mary,\n   All up on the Caldon-Low?\"\n\"I saw the blithe sunshine come down,\n   And I saw the merry winds blow.\"\n\n\"And what did you hear, my Mary,\n   All up on the Caldon-Hill?\"\n\"I heard the drops of water made,\n   And I heard the corn-ears fill.\"\n\n\"Oh, tell me all, my Mary--\n   All, all that ever you know;\n For you must have seen the fairies\n   Last night on the Caldon-Low.\"\n\n\"Then take me on your knee, mother,\n   And listen, mother of mine:\n A hundred fairies danced last night,\n   And the harpers they were nine;\n\n\"And merry was the glee of the harp-strings,\n   And their dancing feet so small;\n But, oh! the sound of their talking\n   Was merrier far than all!\"\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\"And what were the words, my Mary,\n   That you did hear them say?\"\n\"I'll tell you all, my mother,\n   But let me have my way.\n\n\"And some they played with the water,\n   And rolled it down the hill;\n 'And this,' they said, 'shall speedily turn\n   The poor old miller's mill;\n\n\"'For there has been no water\n   Ever since the first of May;\n And a busy man shall the miller be\n   By the dawning of the day!\n\n\"'Oh, the miller, how he will laugh,\n   When he sees the milldam rise!\n The jolly old miller, how he will laugh,\n   Till the tears fill both his eyes!'\n\n\"'And some they seized the little winds,\n   That sounded over the hill,\n And each put a horn into his mouth,\n   And blew so sharp and shrill!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"'And there,' said they, 'the merry winds go\n   Away from every horn;\n And those shall clear the mildew dank\n   From the blind old widow's corn:\n\n\"'Oh, the poor blind widow--\n   Though she has been blind so long,\n She'll be merry enough when the mildew's gone,\n   And the corn stands stiff and strong!'\n\n\"And some they brought the brown linseed,\n   And flung it down from the Low;\n 'And this,' said they, 'by the sunrise,\n   In the weaver's croft shall grow!\n\n\"'Oh, the poor lame weaver!\n   How will he laugh outright\n When he sees his dwindling flax field\n   All full of flowers by night!'\n\n\"And then up spoke a brownie,\n   With a long beard on his chin;\n 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he,\n  'And I want some more to spin.\n\n\"'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,\n   And I want to spin another--\n A little sheet for Mary's bed\n   And an apron for her mother!'\n\n\"And with that I could not help but laugh,\n   And I laughed out loud and free;\n And then on the top of the Caldon-Low\n   There was no one left but me.\n\n\"And all on the top of the Caldon-Low\n  The mists were cold and gray,\nAnd nothing I saw but the mossy stones\n  That round about me lay.\n\n\"But as I came down from the hilltop,\n  I heard, afar below,\nHow busy the jolly miller was,\n  And how merry the wheel did go.\n\n\"And I peeped into the widow's field,\n   And, sure enough, was seen\n The yellow ears of the mildewed corn\n   All standing stiff and green!\n\n\"And down by the weaver's croft I stole,\n   To see if the flax were high;\n But I saw the weaver at his gate\n   With the good news in his eye!\n\n\"Now, this is all that I heard, mother,\n   And all that I did see;\n So, prithee, make my bed, mother,\n   For I'm tired as I can be!\"\n\n\n\n\nWHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST?\n\nBy L. Maria Child\n\n\n  \"To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!\n   Will you listen to me?\n   Who stole four eggs I laid,\n   And the nice nest I made?\"\n\n\"Not I,\" said the cow; \"Moo-oo!\nSuch a thing I'd never do.\nI gave you a wisp of hay,\nBut didn't take your nest away.\nNot I,\" said the cow; \"Moo-oo!\nSuch a thing I'd never do.\"\n\n  \"To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!\n   Will you listen to me?\n   Who stole four eggs I laid,\n   And the nice nest I made?\"\n\n  \"Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link!\n   Now, what do you think?\n   Who stole a nest away\n   From the plum tree, to-day?\"\n\n\"Not I,\" said the dog; \"Bow-wow!\nI wouldn't be so mean, anyhow!\nI gave hairs the nest to make,\nBut the nest I did not take.\nNot I,\" said the dog; \"Bow-wow!\nI'm not so mean, anyhow.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n  \"To-whit I to-whit! to-whee!\n   Will you listen to me?\n   Who stole four eggs I laid,\n   And the nice nest I made?\"\n\n  \"Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link!\n   Now what do you think?\n   Who stole a nest away\n   From the plum tree, to-day?\"\n\n  \"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo!\n   Let me speak a word, too!\n   Who stole that pretty nest\n   From little yellow-breast?\"\n\n\"Not I,\" said the sheep; \"Oh, no!\nI wouldn't treat a poor bird so.\nI gave wool the nest to line,\nBut the nest was none of mine.\nBaa! Baa!\" said the sheep; \"Oh, no.\nI wouldn't treat a poor bird so.\"\n\n  \"To-whit! to-whit! to-whee!\n   Will you listen to me?\n   Who stole four eggs I laid,\n   And the nice nest I made?\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n  \"Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link!\n   Now, what do you think?\n   Who stole a nest away\n   From the plum tree, to-day?\"\n\n  \"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo!\n   Let me speak a word, too!\n   Who stole that pretty nest\n   From little yellow-breast?\"\n\n  \"Caw! Caw!\" cried the crow;\n  \"I should like to know\n   What thief took away\n   A bird's nest to-day?\"\n\n\"Cluck! Cluck!\" said the hen,\n\"Don't ask me again.\nWhy, I haven't a chick\nWould do such a trick.\nWe all gave her a feather,\nAnd she wove them together.\nI'd scorn to intrude\nOn her and her brood.\nCluck! Cluck!\" said the hen,\n\"Don't ask me again.\"\n\n  \"Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr!\n   All the birds make a stir!\n   Let us find out his name,\n   And all cry, 'For shame!'\"\n\n  \"I would not rob a bird,\"\n   Said little Mary Green;\n  \"I think I never heard\n   Of anything so mean.\"\n\n  \"It is very cruel, too,\"\n   Said little Alice Neal;\n  \"I wonder if he knew\n   How sad the bird would feel?\"\n\nA little boy hung down his head,\nAnd went and hid behind the bed;\nFor HE stole that pretty nest\nFrom poor little yellow-breast;\nAnd he felt so full of shame,\nHe didn't like to tell his name.\n\n\nIn this little dialogue, what part do the birds take? What part do the\nanimals take?\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST SNOWFALL\n\nBy James Russell Lovell\n\n\nThe snow had begun in the gloaming,\n  And busily all the night\nHad been heaping field and highway\n  With a silence deep and white.\n\nEvery pine and fir and hemlock\n  Wore ermine too dear for an earl,\nAnd the poorest twig on the elm tree\n  Was ridged inch deep with pearl.\n\nFrom sheds new-roofed with Carrara\n  Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,\nThe stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,\n  And still fluttered down the snow.\n\nI stood and watched by the window\n  The noiseless work of the sky,\nAnd the sudden flurries of snowbirds,\n  Like brown leaves whirling by.\n\nI thought of a mound in sweet Auburn\n  Where a little headstone stood;\nHow the flakes were folding it gently,\n  As did robins the babes in the wood.\n\nUp spoke our own little Mabel,\n  Saying, \"Father, who makes it snow?\"\nAnd I told of the good All-father\n  Who cares for us here below.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAgain I looked at the snowfall,\n  And thought of the leaden sky\nThat arched o'er our first great sorrow,\n  When that mound was heaped so high.\n\nI remembered the gradual patience\n  That fell from that cloud like snow,\nFlake by flake, healing and hiding\n  The scar of our deep-plunged woe.\n\nAnd again to the child I whispered,\n  \"The snow that husheth all,\nDarling, the merciful Father\n  Alone can make it fall!\"\n\nThen, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;\n  And she, kissing back, could not know\nThat MY kiss was given to her sister,\n  Folded close under deepening snow.\n[Footnote: Lowell refers here to a daughter, Blanche, who died shortly\nbefore the birth of his daughter Rosa.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER\n\nBy John Ruskin\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn a secluded and mountainous part of Styria there was, in old time, a\nvalley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was surrounded\non all sides by steep and rocky mountains, rising into peaks, which were\nalways covered with snow, and from which a number of torrents descended\nin constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, over the face of a\ncrag so high that, when the sun had set to everything else, and all\nbelow was darkness, his beams still shone full upon this waterfall, so\nthat it looked like a shower of gold. It was therefore called by the\npeople of the neighborhood the Golden River. It was strange that none of\nthese streams fell into the valley itself. They all descended on the\nother side of the mountains, and wound away through broad plains and by\npopulous cities. But the clouds were drawn so constantly to the snowy\nhills, and rested so softly in the circular hollow, that, in time of\ndrought and heat, when all the country round was burned up, there was\nstill rain in the little valley; and its crops were so heavy, and its\nhay so high, and its apples so red, and its grapes so blue, and its wine\nso rich, and its honey so sweet, that it was a marvel to every one who\nbeheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley.\n\nThe whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, called\nSchwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers,\nwere very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small, dull eyes,\nwhich were always half shut, so that you couldn't see into them, and\nalways fancied they saw very far into you. They lived by farming the\nTreasure Valley, and very good farmers they were. They killed everything\nthat did not pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds, because they\npecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they should suck the\ncows; they poisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in the kitchen;\nand smothered the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the lime\ntrees. They worked their servants without any wages, till they would not\nwork any more, and then quarrelled with them, and turned them out of\ndoors without paying them. It would have been very odd if, with such a\nfarm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't got very rich; and very\nrich they did get. They generally contrived to keep their corn by them\ntill it was very dear, and then sell it for twice its value; they had\nheaps of gold lying about on their floors, yet it was never known that\nthey had given so much as a penny or a crust in charity; they never went\nto mass; grumbled perpetually at paying tithes; and were, in a word, of\nso cruel and grinding a temper, as to receive from all those with whom\nthey had any dealings, the nickname of the \"Black Brothers.\"\n\nThe youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in both\nappearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imagined\nor desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed. and kind\nin temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agree\nparticularly well with his brothers, or, rather, they did not agree with\nhim. He was usually appointed to the honorable office of turnspit, when\nthere was anything to roast, which was not often; for, to do the\nbrothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon themselves than\nupon other people. At other times he used to clean the shoes, the\nfloors, and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what was left on\nthem, by way of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of dry blows, by\nway of education.\n\nThings went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wet\nsummer, and everything went wrong in the country round. The hay had\nhardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to the\nsea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; the\ncorn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, as\nusual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain nowhere else, so\nit had sun when there was sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy corn\nat the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black Brothers.\nThey asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor people, who\ncould only beg, and several of whom were starved at their very door,\nwithout the slightest regard or notice.\n\nIt was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day the\ntwo elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little\nGluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in, and\ngive nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it was\nraining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or\ncomfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and\nbrown. \"What a pity,\" thought Gluck, \"my brothers never ask anybody to\ndinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this,\nand nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would do\ntheir hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them.\"\n\nJust as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy\nand dull, as though the knocker had been tied up--more like a puff than\na knock.\n\n\"It must be the wind,\" said Gluck; \"nobody else would venture to knock\ndouble knocks at our door.\"\n\nNo; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very hard, and, what was\nparticularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to\nbe in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the window,\nopened it, and put his head out to see who it was.\n\nIt was the most extraordinary-looking little gentleman he had ever seen\nin his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his\ncheeks were very round and very red, and might have warranted a\nsupposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the last\neight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silky\neyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each\nside of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt\ncolor, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in\nheight, and wore a conical-pointed cap of nearly the same altitude,\ndecorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet was\nprolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration of\nwhat is now termed a \"swallow-tail,\" but was much obscured by the\nswelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must\nhave been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistling\nround the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders to\nabout four times his own length.\n\n[Illustration: \"HELLO, I'M WET, LET ME IN\"]\n\nGluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of his\nvisitor that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the old\ngentleman, having performed another and a more energetic concerto on the\nknocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he\ncaught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with\nhis mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.\n\n\"Hello!\" said the little gentleman, \"that's not the way to answer the\ndoor; I'm wet, let me in.\"\n\nTo do the little gentleman justice, he was wet. His feather hung down\nbetween his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;\nand from the ends of his mustaches the water was running into his waist\ncoat pockets, and out again like a mill-stream.\n\n\"I beg pardon, sir,\" said Gluck; \"I'm very sorry, but I really can't.\"\n\n\"Can't what?\" said the old gentleman,\n\n\"I can't let you in, sir--I can't indeed; my brothers would beat me to\ndeath, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?\"\n\n\"Want?\" said the old gentleman petulantly; \"I want fire and shelter; and\nthere's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the\nwalls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm\nmyself.\"\n\nGluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he\nbegan to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and\nsaw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long bright\ntongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory\nsmell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should\nbe burning away for nothing. \"He does look very wet,\" said little Gluck;\n\"I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour.\" Round he went to the\ndoor, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through the\nhouse came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.\n\n\"That's a good boy,\" said the little gentleman. \"Never mind your\nbrothers. I'll talk to them.\"\n\n\"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing,\" said Gluck. \"I can't let you stay\ntill they come; they'd be the death of me!\"\n\n\"Dear me,\" said the old gentleman, \"I'm very sorry to hear that. How\nlong may I stay?\"\n\n\"Only till the mutton's done, sir,\" replied Gluck, \"and it's very\nbrown.\"\n\nThen the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down on\nthe hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it was\na great deal too high for the roof.\n\n\"You'll soon dry there, sir,\" said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the\nmutton. But the old gentleman did NOT dry there, but went on drip, drip,\ndripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed and sputtered, and began\nto look very black and uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; every fold\nin it ran like a gutter.\n\n\"I beg pardon, sir,\" said Gluck at length, after watching the water\nspreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter\nof an hour; \"mayn't I take your cloak?\"\n\n\"No, thank you,\" said the old gentleman.\n\n\"Your cap, sir?\"\n\n\"I'm all right, thank you,\" said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.\n\n\"But--sir--I'm very sorry,\" said Gluck hesitatingly; \"but--really, sir--\nyou're putting the fire out.\"\n\n\"It'll take longer to do the mutton then,\" replied his visitor, dryly.\n\nGluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a\nstrange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string\nmeditatively for another five minutes.\n\n\"That mutton looks very nice,\" said the old gentleman, at length. \"Can't\nyou give me a little bit?\"\n\n\"Impossible, sir,\" said Gluck.\n\n\"I'm very hungry,\" continued the old gentleman; \"I've had nothing to eat\nyesterday, nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the\nknuckle!\"\n\nHe spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's\nheart. \"They promised me one slice to-day, sir,\" said he; \"I can give\nyou that, but not a bit more.\"\n\n\"That's a good boy,\" said the old gentleman again.\n\nThen Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a knife. \"I don't care if I do\nget beaten for it,\" thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of\nthe mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman\njumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm.\nGluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts at\nexactitude, and ran to open the door.\n\n\"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?\" said Schwartz, as he\nwalked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.\n\n\"Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?\" said Hans, administering an\neducational box on the ear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen.\n\n\"Bless my soul!\" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.\n\n\"Amen,\" said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was\nstanding in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible\nvelocity.\n\n\"Who's that?\" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning to\nGluck with a fierce frown.\n\n\"I don't know, indeed, brother,\" said Gluck, in great terror.\n\n\"How did he get in?\" roared Schwartz.\n\n\"My dear brother,\" said Gluck deprecatingly, \"he was so very wet!\"\n\nThe rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant, the\nold gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a\nshock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very\nodd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of\nSchwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the\ncorner at the further end of the room.\n\n\"Who are you, sir?\" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him.\n\n\"What's your business?\" snarled Hans.\n\n\"I'm a poor old man, sir,\" the little gentleman began very modestly,\n\"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a\nquarter of an hour.\"\n\n\"Have the goodness to walk out again, then,\" said Schwartz. \"We've quite\nwater enough in our kitchen, without making it a drying-house.\"\n\n\"It's a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray hairs.\"\nThey hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before.\n\n\"Ay!\" said Hans, \"there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!\"\n\n\"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before\nI go?\"\n\n\"Bread, indeed!\" said Schwartz; \"do you suppose we've nothing to do with\nour bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?\"\n\n\"Why don't you sell your feather?\" said Hans, sneeringly. \"Out with\nyou.\"\n\n\"A little bit,\" said the old gentleman.\n\n\"Be off!\" said Schwartz.\n\n\"Pray, gentlemen.\"\n\n\"Off, and be hanged!\" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had\nno sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went after\nthe rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner\non the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old\ngentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away\nhe went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the\nwall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.\n\nThen the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the opposite\ndirection; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatly\nabout him; clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for it\ncould not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave an\nadditional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfect\ncoolness: \"Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock\nto-night I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I have\njust experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I\never pay you.\"\n\n\"If I ever catch you here again,\" muttered Schwartz, coming, half\nfrightened, out of the corner--but before he could finish his sentence,\nthe old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a great bang;\nand past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of ragged\ncloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner of\nshapes; turning over and over in the air: and melting away at last in a\ngush of rain.\n\n\"A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!\" said Schwartz. \"Dish the\nmutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again--Bless me, why\nthe mutton's been cut!\"\n\n\"You promised me one slice, brother, you know,\" said Gluck.\n\n\"Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the\ngravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave the\nroom, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call\nyou.\"\n\nGluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much mutton\nas they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get\nvery drunk after dinner.\n\nSuch a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain without\nintermission. The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the\nshutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually\nslept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were both\nawakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violence\nthat shook the house from top to bottom.\n\n\"What's that?\" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.\n\n\"Only I,\" said the little gentleman.\n\nThe two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.\nThe room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way\nthrough a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an\nenormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a\ncork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old\ngentleman, cap and all.\n\nThere was plenty of room for it now, for the roof was off.\n\n\"Sorry to incommode you,\" said their visitor ironically. \"I'm afraid\nyour beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room;\nI've left the ceiling on there.\"\n\nThey required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wet\nthrough, and in an agony of terror.\n\n\"You'll find my card on the kitchen table,\" the old gentleman called\nafter them. \"Remember, the LAST visit.\"\n\n\"Pray Heaven it may be!\" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe\ndisappeared.\n\nDawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's little\nwindow in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and\ndesolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and\nleft, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud.\n\n[Illustration with caption: \"SORRY TO INCOMMODE YOU\"]\n\nThe two brothers crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen.\nThe water had gutted the whole first floor: corn, money, almost every\nmovable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small white\ncard on the kitchen table.\n\nOn it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were engraved the words:\n\n                 Southwest Wind, Esquire.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nSouthwest Wind, Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentous\nvisit above related, he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what\nwas worse, he had so much influence with his relations, the West Winds\nin general, and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similar\nline of conduct. So no rain fell in the valley from one year's end to\nanother. Though everything remained green and flourishing in the plains\nbelow, the inheritance of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had once\nbeen the richest soil in the kingdom became a shifting heap of red sand;\nand the brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse skies,\nabandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some means of\ngaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. All\ntheir money was gone, and they had nothing left but some curious, old-\nfashioned pieces of gold plate, the last remnants of their ill-gotten\nwealth.\n\n\"Suppose we turn goldsmiths?\" said Schwartz to Hans, as they entered the\nlarge city. \"It is a good knave's trade: we can put a great deal of\ncopper into the gold, without any one's finding it out.\"\n\nThe thought was agreed to be a very good one; they hired a furnace, and\nturned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected their trade:\nthe first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold, the second,\nthat the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, used to\nleave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out the money\nin the alehouse next door. So they melted all their gold, without making\nmoney enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one large\ndrinking-mug, which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and which\nhe was very fond of, and would not have parted with for the world;\nthough he never drank anything out of it but milk and water. The mug was\na very odd mug to look at. The handle was formed of two wreaths of\nflowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more like silk than\nlike metal, and these wreaths descended into, and mixed with, a beard\nand whiskers, of the same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded and\ndecorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold imaginable,\nright in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it which seemed to\ncommand its whole circumference. It was impossible to drink out of the\nmug without being subjected to an intense gaze out of the side of these\neyes; and Schwartz positively averred that once, after emptying it full\nof Rhenish seventeen times, he had seen them wink! When it came to the\nmug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's\nheart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the\nmelting pot, and staggered out to the alehouse; leaving him, as usual,\nto pour the gold into bars, when it was all ready.\n\nWhen they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in the\nmelting pot, The flowing hair was all gone; nothing remained but the red\nnose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than ever.\n\"And no wonder,\" thought Gluck, \"after being treated in that way.\" He\nsauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down to catch\nthe fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now\nthis window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains which, as\nI told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of\nthe peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close of\nthe day, and, when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the rocks of the\nmountain tops all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there were\nbright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and the\nriver, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from\nprecipice to precipice, with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow\nstretched across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of\nspray.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a little while,\n\"if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be!\"\n\n\"No, it wouldn't, Gluck,\" said a clear, metallic voice, close at his\near.\n\n\"Bless me, what's that?\" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody\nthere. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many\ntimes behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down\nagain at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help\nthinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really\nall gold.\n\n\"Not at all, my boy,\" said the same voice, louder than before.\n\n\"Bless me!\" said Gluck again, \"what IS that?\" He looked again into all\nthe corners and cupboards, and then began turning round and round, as\nfast as he could, in the middle of the room, thinking there was somebody\nbehind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It was singing\nnow very merrily, \"Lala-lira-la\"; no words, only a soft running\neffervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck\nlooked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house. Upstairs,\nand downstairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in\nquicker time and clearer notes every moment, \"Lala-lira-la.\" All at once\nit struck Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace. He ran to the\nopening and looked in; yes, he saw right; it seemed to be coming, not\nonly out of the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it, and ran\nback in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He stood in\nthe furthest corner of the room, with his hands up, and his mouth open,\nfor a minute or two, when the singing stopped, and the voice became\nclear and pronunciative.\n\n\"Hollo!\" said the voice. Gluck made no answer.\n\n\"Hollo, Gluck, my boy,\" said the pot again.\n\nGluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible,\ndrew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and\nits surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of its\nreflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in, he saw meeting his\nglance, from beneath the gold, the red nose and the sharp eyes of his\nold friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he\nhad seen them in his life.\n\n\"Come, Gluck, my boy,\" said the voice out of the pot again, \"I'm all\nright; pour me out.\"\n\nBut Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind.\n\n\"Pour me out, I say,\" said the voice rather gruffly,\n\nStill Gluck couldn't move.\n\n\"WILL you pour me out?\" said the voice passionately, \"I'm too hot.\"\n\nBy a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took hold of\nthe crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of a\nliquid stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty little yellow\nlegs, then some coat tails, then a pair of arms stuck akimbo, and,\nfinally, the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles,\nuniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the\nshape of a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high.\n\n\"That's right;\" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then\nhis arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it\nwould go, for five minutes, without stopping, apparently with the view\nof ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together; while Gluck\nstood contemplating him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a\nslashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismatic\ncolors gleamed over it, as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over\nthis brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full halfway to the\nground, in waving curls, so exquisitely delicate that Gluck could hardly\ntell where they ended; they seemed to melt into air. The features of the\nface, however, were by no means finished with the same delicacy; they\nwere rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion, and\nindicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious and intractable\ndisposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf had finished his\nself-examination, he turned his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck, and\nstared at him deliberately for a minute or two. \"No, it wouldn't, Gluck,\nmy boy,\" said the little man.\n\nThis was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencing\nconversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of\nGluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations out\nof the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to\ndispute the dictum.\n\n\"Wouldn't it, sir?\" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed.\n\n\"No,\" said the dwarf conclusively. \"No, it wouldn't.\" And with that, the\ndwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns of three\nfeet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs very high, and setting\nthem down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to collect his\nthoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his diminutive\nvisitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his amazement, he\nventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.\n\n\"Pray, sir,\" said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, \"were you my mug!\"\n\nOn which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck,\nand drew himself up to his full height. \"I,\" said the little man, \"am\nthe King of the Golden River.\" Whereupon he turned about again, and took\ntwo more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for the\nconsternation which this announcement produced in his auditor to\nevaporate. After which he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as\nif expecting some comment on his communication.\n\nGluck determined to say something, at all events. \"I hope your majesty\nis very well,\" said Gluck.\n\n\"Listen!\" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite inquiry.\n\"I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape you\nsaw me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose\nenchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you,\nand your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve\nyou; therefore attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to the top\nof that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, and shall\ncast into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, for him,\nand for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing in\nhis first can succeed in a second attempt; and if any one shall cast\nunholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will become a\nblack stone.\" So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away, and\ndeliberately walked into the center of the hottest flame of the furnace.\nHis figure became red, red, white, transparent, dazzling--a blaze of\nintense light--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden\nRiver had evaporated.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; \"oh\ndear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe King of the Golden River had hardly made his extraordinary exit\nbefore Hans and Schwartz came roaring into the house, very savagely\ndrunk. The discovery of the total loss of their last piece of plate had\nthe effect of sobering them just enough to enable them to stand over\nGluck, beating him very steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the\nexpiration of which period they dropped into a couple of chairs, and\nrequested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them\nhis story, of which of course they did not believe a word. They beat him\nagain, till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. In the morning,\nhowever, the steadiness with which he adhered to his story obtained him\nsome degree of credence; the immediate consequence of which was, that\nthe two brothers, after wrangling a long time on the knotty question\nwhich of them should try his fortune first, drew their swords, and began\nfighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neighbors, who, finding they\ncould not pacify the combatants, sent for the constable.\n\nHans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; but\nSchwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the peace,\nand having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was thrown into\nprison till he should pay.\n\nWhen Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to set out\nimmediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy water was the\nquestion. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any holy\nwater to so abandoned a character. So Hans went to vespers in the\nevening for the first time in his life, and, under pretence of crossing\nhimself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph.\n\nNext morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into a\nstrong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slung\nthem over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off for\nthe mountains.\n\nOn his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he looked\nin at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself peeping out\nof the bars, and looking very disconsolate.\n\n\"Good morning, brother,\" said Hans; \"have you any message for the King\nof the Golden River?\"\n\nSchwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with all his\nstrength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make himself\ncomfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket, shook the\nbottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it frothed again, and\nmarched off in the highest spirits in the world.\n\nIt was, indeed, a morning that might have made any one happy, even with\nno Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay stretched\nalong the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains--their lower\ncliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the floating\nvapor, but gradually ascending till they caught the sunlight, which ran\nin sharp touches of ruddy color along the angular crags, and pierced, in\nlong level rays, through their fringes of spear-like pine. Far above\nshot up red splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and shivered\ninto myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak of sunlit\nsnow, traced down their chasms like a line of forked lightning; and, far\nbeyond, and far above all these, fainter than the morning cloud, but\npurer and changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the utmost peaks of the\neternal snow.\n\nThe Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowless\nelevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets of\nspray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of the\ncataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind.\n\nOn this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were fixed;\nforgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudent\nrate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled the\nfirst range of the green and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised, on\nsurmounting them, to find that a large glacier, of whose existence,\nnotwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had been\nabsolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden River.\nHe entered on it with the boldness of a practiced mountaineer; yet he\nthought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier in\nhis life. The ice was excessively slippery; and out of all its chasms\ncame wild sounds of gushing water: not monotonous or low, but changeful\nand loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of wild melody,\nthen breaking off into short, melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks,\nresembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was broken\ninto thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the\nordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious EXPRESSION\nabout all their outlines--a perpetual resemblance to living features,\ndistorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows and lurid lights\nplayed and floated about and through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling\nand confusing the sight of the traveler; while his ears grew dull and\nhis head giddy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed waters.\nThese painful circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the ice\ncrashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spires\nnodded around him, and fell thundering across his path; and though he\nhad repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, and in\nthe wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling of panic-\nterror that he leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, exhausted and\nshuddering on the firm turf of the mountain.\n\nHe had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became a\nperilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of refreshing\nhimself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This,\nhowever, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited his hardy\nframe, and, with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed his\nlaborious journey.\n\nHis way now lay straight up a ridge of bare, red rocks, without a blade\nof grass to ease the foot or a projecting angle to afford an inch of\nshade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat intensely\nupon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere was motionless, and\npenetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to the bodily\nfatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after glance he cast\non the flask of water which hung at his belt. \"Three drops are enough,\"\nat last thought he; \"I may, at least, cool my lips with it.\"\n\nHe opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fell\non an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was a\nsmall dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its tongue\nwas out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a swarm of\nblack ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye moved to the\nbottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, spurned the\nanimal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know how it was, but\nhe thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come across the blue sky.\n\nThe path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the high hill\nair, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever.\nThe noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his ears; they\nwere all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. Another hour\npassed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side; it was half\nempty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped to\nopen it, and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above him.\nIt was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its breast\nheaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and burning.\nHans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud\ncame over the sun, and long snake-like shadows crept up along the\nmountain sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descent\nseemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead air pressed\nupon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the cataract of\nthe Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely five hundred feet\nabove him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to complete\nhis task.\n\nAt this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a gray-\nhaired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his features\ndeadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair. \"Water!\"--he\nstretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly--\"Water! I am dying.\"\n\n[Illustration: THOU HAST HAD THY SHARE OF LIFE]\n\n\"I have none,\" replied Hans; \"thou hast had thy share of life.\" He\nstrode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of blue\nlightning rose out of the east, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice\nover the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable\nshade. The sun was setting; it plunged toward the horizon like a red-hot\nball.\n\nThe roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brink\nof the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red\nglory of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues of fire, and\nflashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound came\nmightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy with the\nprolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask from his girdle, and\nhurled it into the centre of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill\nshot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked, and fell. The water\nclosed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly into the\nnight, as it gushed over\n\n                      The Black Stone.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nPoor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for Hans's\nreturn. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened, and\nwent and told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened. Then\nSchwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly have\nbeen turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold to\nhimself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When he got up\nin the morning, there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluck\nwent and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so hard, and\nso neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got money enough together\nto pay his brother's fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, and\nSchwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased, and said he\nshould have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged he\nwould go and see what had become of Hans.\n\nNow when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, he\nthought to himself that such a proceeding might not be considered\naltogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and determined to\nmanage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and went\nto a bad priest, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. Then\nSchwartz was sure it was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early in\nthe morning before the sun rose, and took some bread and wine in a\nbasket, and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the\nmountains.\n\nLike his brother, he was much surprised at the sight of the glacier, and\nhad great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving his basket\nbehind him.\n\nThe day was cloudless, but not bright; a heavy purple haze was hanging\nover the sky, and the hills looked lowering and gloomy. And as Schwartz\nclimbed the steep rock path, the thirst came upon him, as it had upon\nhis brother, until he lifted his flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw\nthe fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to him, and\nmoaned for water.\n\n\"Water, indeed,\" said Schwartz; \"I haven't half enough for myself,\" and\npassed on. And as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and he\nsaw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the west; and when he had\nclimbed for another hour the thirst overcame him again, and he would\nhave drunk. Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, and\nheard him cry out for water.\n\n\"Water, indeed,\" said Schwartz; \"I haven't half enough for myself,\" and\non he went.\n\n[Illustration: HE CAST THE FLASK INTO THE STREAM]\n\nThen again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and he looked\nup, and, behold, a mist, of the color of blood, had come over the sun;\nand the bank of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were\ntossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And they cast long\nshadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path.\n\nThen Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned;\nand as he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brother\nHans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he gazed, the\nfigure stretched its arms to him, and cried for water. \"Ha, ha!\" laughed\nSchwartz, \"are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water,\nindeed! do you suppose I carried it all the way up here for you?\" And he\nstrode over the figure; yet, as he passed, he thought he saw a strange\nexpression of mockery about its lips. And when he had gone a few yards\nfarther, he looked back; but the figure was not there.\n\nAnd a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the thirst\nfor gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the bank of\nblack cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of spiry\nlightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float between their\nflashes, over the whole heavens. And the sky where the sun was setting\nwas all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong wind came out of\nthat sky, tearing its crimson clouds into fragments, and scattering them\nfar into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the brink of the\nGolden River, its waves were black like thunder-clouds, but their foam\nwas like fire; and the roar of the waters below and the thunder above\nmet, as he cast the flask into the stream. And, as he did so, the\nlightning glared in his eyes, and the earth gave way beneath him, and\nthe waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly\ninto the night, as it gushed over\n\n                    The Two Black Stones.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nWhen Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very sorry, and\ndid not know what to do. He had no money, and was obliged to go and hire\nhimself again to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and gave him\nvery little money. So, after a month or two, Gluck grew tired, and made\nup his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden River. \"The little\nking looked very kind,\" thought he. \"I don't think he will turn me into\na black stone.\" So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him some\nholy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some bread in his\nbasket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early for the\nmountains.\n\nIf the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers,\nit was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so\npracticed on the mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his\nbasket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises\nunder the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had got\nover, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the day.\nWhen he had climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and was\ngoing to drink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming down the\npath above him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff.\n\n\"My son,\" said the old man, \"I am faint with thirst; give me some of\nthat water.\"\n\nThen Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he\ngave him the water.\n\n\"Only pray don't drink it all,\" said Gluck. But the old man drank a\ngreat deal, and gave him back the bottle two thirds empty. Then he bade\nhim good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And the path became\neasier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass appeared upon it,\nand some grasshoppers began singing on the bank beside it; and Gluck\nthought he had never heard such merry singing.\n\nThen he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him so\nthat he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised the\nflask, he saw a little child lying panting by the roadside, and it cried\nout piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself and\ndetermined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle to\nthe child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled on\nhim and got up, and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it, till\nit became as small as a little star, and then turned, and began climbing\nagain. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on the\nrocks, bright green moss, with pale pink starry flowers, and soft-belled\ngentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure white\ntransparent lilies. And crimson and purple butterflies darted hither and\nthither, and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never felt\nso happy in his life.\n\nYet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became intolerable\nagain; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were only\nfive or six drops left in it, and he could not venture to drink. And as\nhe was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a little dog lying on\nthe rocks, gasping for breath--just as Hans had seen it on the day of\nhis ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the Golden\nRiver, not five hundred yards above him; and he thought of the dwarf's\nwords, that no one could succeed, except in his first attempt; and he\ntried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and Gluck stopped again.\n\"Poor beastie,\" said Gluck, \"it'll be dead when I come down again, if I\ndon't help it.\" Then he looked closer and closer at it, and its eye\nturned on him so mournfully that he could not stand it. \"Confound the\nKing and his gold too,\" said Gluck; and he opened the flask, and poured\nall the water into the dog's mouth.\n\nThe dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared, its\nears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red, its\neyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, and\nbefore Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River.\n\n\"Thank you,\" said the monarch; \"but don't be frightened, it's all\nright\"; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at this\nunlooked-for reply to his last observation. \"Why didn't you come\nbefore,\" continued the dwarf, \"instead of sending me those rascally\nbrothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones?\nVery hard stones they make, too.\"\n\n\"Oh dear me!\" said Gluck; \"have you really been so cruel?\"\n\n\"Cruel?\" said the dwarf; \"they poured unholy water into my stream; do\nyou suppose I'm going to allow that?\"\n\n[Illustration: THE DWARF SHOOK THE DROPS INTO THE FLASK]\n\n\"Why,\" said Gluck, \"I am sure, sir--your Majesty, I mean--they got the\nwater out of the church font.\"\n\n\"Very probably,\" replied the dwarf; \"but,\" and his countenance grew\nstern as he spoke, \"the water which has been refused to the cry of the\nweary and dying is unholy, though it had been blessed by every saint in\nheaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy,\nthough it had been denied with corpses.\"\n\nSo saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet.\nOn its white leaves hung three drops of clear dew, and the dwarf shook\nthem into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. \"Cast these into the\nriver,\" he said, \"and descend on the other side of the mountains into\nthe Treasure Valley. And so good speed.\"\n\nAs he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The playing\ncolors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy\nlight; he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of a\nbroad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the mist rose into the air; the\nmonarch had evaporated.\n\nAnd Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were\nas clear as crystal and as brilliant as the sun.\n\nAnd when he cast the three drops of dew into the stream, there opened\nwhere they fell a small circular whirlpool, into which the waters\ndescended with a musical noise.\n\nGluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed, because\nnot only the river was not turned into gold, but its waters seemed much\ndiminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and\ndescended the other side of the mountains, toward the Treasure Valley;\nand, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water working its way\nunder the ground. And when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley,\nbehold, a river, like the Golden River, was springing from a new cleft\nof the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable streams among the\ndry heaps of red sand.\n\nAnd as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, and\ncreeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil. Young\nflowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out when\ntwilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle and tendrils of vine cast\nlengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus the Treasure\nValley became a garden again, and the inheritance which had been lost by\ncruelty was regained by love.\n\nAnd Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven\nfrom his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of\ntreasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the dwarf's promise,\nbecome a River of Gold.\n\nAnd to this day the inhabitants of the valley point out the place where\nthe three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and trace the\ncourse of the Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in the\nTreasure Valley. And at the top of the cataract of the Golden River are\nstill to be seen two black stones, round which the waters howl\nmournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called, by\nthe people of the valley,\n\n                   The Black Brothers.\n\n\nIt would be a rather hard thing to choose the very best fairy story, but\nthere are a great many persons who would say that, everything\nconsidered, The King of the Golden River is the finest. Many like The\nUgly Duckling, by Hans Christian Andersen, and it certainly is a\nbeautiful story. We must remember in comparing the two that The Ugly\nDuckling has probably lost something in being translated into the\nEnglish, for it is almost impossible to make a translation as perfect as\nthe original. For the reason just given, perhaps, The King of the Golden\nRiver excels as literature, and almost every boy or girl is glad to\nstudy the story enough to understand what makes it so very fine.\n\nAs soon as we have read it we feel that it is an interesting story, and\nthat we are really the better for reading it. We cannot follow the\nfortunes of little Gluck without feeling our hearts grow warmer at his\nkindly acts, or without knowing that the hospitality, self-denial,\nsympathy and generosity that he shows are some of the finest traits of\nhuman character. Moreover, we are inspired with the desire to be like\nGluck, and to curb any inclination to become like his two dark brothers.\n\nWhat we wish to do, however, in this brief study, is to try to find some\nother points less noticeable, perhaps, but equally interesting, in which\nthis story excels many others. Now, one of these points is the\nremarkably brilliant way in which things are described by Mr. Ruskin.\n\nWe remember that he was a famous English writer who had a very high\nregard for painting, and who wrote about pictures until he made the\nworld believe many of the sensible things he said. Naturally, the writer\nwho had such an appreciation for pictures would be particular in\ndescription. In other words, we should expect him to paint for us\nbeautiful word pictures. In this we are not disappointed, when we reach,\nfor instance, the description of the beautiful morning when Hans started\nout on his journey to the Golden River. You will find it in an early\npart of the third section of the story.\n\nIt is not necessary for Ruskin to describe the view that lay before\nHans, but his love for the beautiful and his passion for colors made him\nsketch for us the imaginary beauties that lay before the selfish and\navaricious man. On our part we must try to see the picture as the author\nsaw it when he wrote.\n\nImagine rising before us a valley, surrounded on both sides by massive\nmountains. The valley, we may say, runs north and south, and we are at\nthe south end of it, for on the cliffs at the west side the sun is\nshining, its long level rays piercing the fringe of pines and touching\nwith a ruddy color the tops of the mountains. It would be a difficult\nmatter to climb the masses of castellated rock shivered into numberless\ncurious forms, for they extend far into the region of eternal snow, and\nfrom where we stand it seems as though they pierce the blue heavens. The\nsnow line is not level along the cliffs, for in places the drifts lie\ndeep in chasms which, from a distance, look like branching rivers of\npure white, or, as Ruskin says, when lighted by the sun, appear like\n\"lines of forked lightning.\" At one end of the valley we may see the\nGolden River, surging, possibly, from the eastern wall, as it is almost\nwholly in the shadow; yet there are dashes of spray which the shining\nsun turns to gold. Between the Golden River and ourselves lie some broad\nfields of ice. In fact, the picture is not altogether one of beauty, for\nthere is a suggestion of sublimity and awe mixed with the view which\ncauses us to shudder in spite of the glowing radiance of the morning. In\nthe next paragraph Hans is shown proceeding on his journey, and then the\ndepressing elements in the picture become clearer.\n\nWhat did Hans find that surprised him? Did it appear a longer walk to\nthe Golden River than he had anticipated? What was the nature of the\nice? If a person were crossing a glacier, would sounds of rushing water\ntend to frighten him? Was the surface of the glacier smooth? Were there\nmany fragments of ice that seemed to take human form? Why are the\nshadows called deceitful? What are lurid lights? What effect did the\nsights and sounds have upon Hans? Had Hans been in similar dangers\nbefore? Were these dangers worse than ever before, or was Hans in the\nmood to be disturbed by them?\n\nWhen you have answered the questions in the last paragraph, finish for\nyourselves the picture of the valley as we first sketched it. Close your\neyes and try to see the valley, mountains, sunlight, great rocks,\nyawning chasms, and the enormous fragments of ice that looked like\nterrible beings ready to devour any one who came near them. When you\nhave done this, you will realize the power of Ruskin's descriptions.\n\nNow compare the valley as Hans saw it with the valley as Schwartz and\nGluck saw it. What changes are there in the picture?\n\nThere are other descriptions in the story besides those of the valley\nand the Golden River. It would be interesting to go through and compare\nthe different pictures which Ruskin gives us of the King of the Golden\nRiver. If we should do this we might gather our information and put it\ninto a table something like this:\n\n\nTHE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER\n\nI. First Appearance.\n\n1. He is an extraordinary-looking little gentleman.\n2. Nose,--large and slightly brass-colored.\n3. Cheeks,--round and very red.\n4. Eyes,--twinkling under silky lashes.\n5. Mustaches,--curled twice around.\n6. Hair,--long and of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt color.\n7. Height,--four feet six.\n8. Clothing:\n    a. Cap,--conical-pointed, four feet six inches (nearly).\n    (1) Black feather, three feet long.\n    b. Doublet.\n    c. Coat,--exaggerated swallow-tail.\n    d. Cloak,--enormous, black, glossy-looking, eighteen feet long.\n\nII. Second Appearance (spinning on the globe of foam).\n\n1. Cap and all as before.\n\nIII. Third Appearance.\n\n1. The drinking-mug.\na. The handle of two wreaths of golden hair descending and mixing\n       with the beard and whiskers.\n    b. Face,--small, fierce, reddish-gold.\n    c. Nose,--red.\n    d. Eyes,--sharp.\n\n2. The King.\n    a. Height,--one and a half feet; a golden dwarf.\n    b. Legs,--little and yellow.\n    c. Face,--as before.\n    d. Doublet,--slashed, of spun gold, prismatic colors.\n    e. Hair,--exquisitely delicate curls.\n    f. Features,--coppery, fierce and determined in expression.\n\nIV. Fourth Appearance.\n\n1. Same as in third appearance.\n\nV. Different Forms the King Assumes:\n\n1. To Hans:\na. A small dog, dying of thirst; tongue hanging out, jaws dry;\n   almost lifeless; ants crawling about its lips and throat.\nb. A fair child, nearly lifeless; breast heaving with thirst; eyes\n   closed; lips parched and burning.\n   c.  An old man; sunken features; deadly pale and expressing despair.\n\n2. To Schwartz:\n    a. The fair child as it appeared to Hans.\n    b. The old man who appeared to Hans.\n    c. Brother Hans exhausted and begging for water.\n\n3. To Gluck:\n    a. An old man leaning on a staff.\n    b. A little child panting by the roadside.\n    c. A little dog gasping for breath, which changes into the king.\n\nThere are a great many things besides vivid descriptions that make The\nKing of the Golden River a fine story. But it is not a good idea to\nstudy any selection in literature too long or too hard, for in so doing\nwe are likely to lose our interest in the selection or even to take a\ndislike to it. You know if we look too long at a beautiful sunset our\neyes grow weary and we seem to lose our power to admire it, but when the\nnext evening comes, with another glorious sunset, we are just as much\ninterested in it as ever. So it is with reading. If a thing is really\nbrilliant, we may look at it so long that our minds become tired; but we\ncan leave it for a while and come back to it with renewed interest.\n\nAccordingly, when we have studied the descriptions of The King of the\nGolden River we have probably done enough for one day or one time, at\nleast. Some other time we shall enjoy returning to it and finding new\nthings. For instance, we might like to see how many beautiful sentences,\nor what great thoughts we can find well expressed.\n\nOf the fine quotations here are two:\n\n\"And there were bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering\nabout them; and the river, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column\nof pure gold.\"\n\n\"A flash of blue lightning rose out of the east, shaped like a sword; it\nshook thrice over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy,\nimpenetrable shade.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ESTHER\n\n\nI\n\n\nNow it came to pass in the third year of the reign of Ahasuerus, when\nthe king sat on the throne which is in Shushan the palace, he made a\nfeast unto all his princes and servants, and showed the riches of his\nglorious kingdom for many days.\n\nAnd when these days were expired, the king made a feast in Shushan the\npalace, seven days, in the court of the garden of the king's palace.\n\nThe silken hangings were white, green, and blue, fastened with cords of\nfine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble; and the\ncouches were of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and\nwhite, and black marble.\n\nOn the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry, he commanded\nthe chamberlains that served in his presence to bring Vashti the queen\nbefore the king with the crown royal, to show the people and the princes\nher beauty; for she was fair to look on.\n\nBut the queen Vashti refused to come at the king's commandment by his\nchamberlains; therefore was the king very wroth, and his anger burned in\nhim.\n\nThen the king said to the wise men, \"What shall I do unto Queen Vashti\nbecause she has not performed the commandment of the King?\"\n\nAnd they answered before the king, \"Vashti the queen hath done wrong not\nto the king only, but also to the princes and to all the people in all\nthe provinces of the king's dominions. Therefore, if it please the king,\nlet there go a royal commandment from him, and let it be written among\nthe laws of the Persians and the Medes, which may not be altered,\n'Vashti shall come no more before King Ahasuerus;' and let the king give\nher royal estate unto another that is better than she.\"\n\nAnd the saying pleased the king and the princes, and the king did\naccording to the word of the wise men.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nAfter these things, when the wrath of King Ahasuerus was appeased, the\nservants that ministered unto the king said, \"Let there be fair young\nvirgins sought for the king. And let the king appoint officers in all\nthe provinces of his kingdom, that they may gather together all the fair\nyoung virgins unto Shushan the palace, to the house of the women, unto\nthe custody of Hege the king's chamberlain, and let the maiden which\npleaseth the king be queen instead of Vashti.\"\n\nAnd the thing pleased the king; and he did so.\n\nNow in Shushan the palace there was a certain Jew, whose name was\nMordecai, who had been carried from Jerusalem into captivity by\nNebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, and who brought up Esther, his\nuncle's daughter. She had neither father nor mother, and the maid was\nfair and beautiful; whom Mordecai took for his own daughter. So it came\nto pass, when the king's commandment and his decree were heard, and when\nmany maidens were gathered together unto Shushan the palace, that Esther\nwas brought also unto the king's house, to the custody of Hege.\n\nThe maiden pleased him, and she obtained kindness of him, and he\npreferred her and her maids unto the best in the house of the women. And\nMordecai walked every day before the court of the women's house, to know\nhow Esther did, and what should become of her.\n\nSo Esther was taken unto King Ahasuerus, and the king loved Esther above\nall the women, and she obtained grace and favour in his sight more than\nall the virgins; so he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her\nqueen instead of Vashti.\n\nThen the king made a great feast unto all his princes and his servants,\neven Esther's feast.\n\nAnd when the virgins were gathered together the second time, then\nMordecai sat in the king's gate.\n\nEsther had not yet told her kindred nor her people, as Mordecai had\ncharged her; for Esther did the commandment of Mordecai, like as when\nshe was brought up by him.\n\nIn those days, while Mordecai sat in the king's gate, two of the king's\nchamberlains, who kept the door, were wroth, and sought to lay hand on\nthe king Ahasuerus.\n\nAnd the thing was known to Mordecai, who told it unto Esther the queen;\nand Esther told the king thereof in Mordecai's name.\n\nAnd when inquisition was made of the matter, it was found true;\ntherefore they were both hanged on a tree.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAfter these things did King Ahasuerus promote Haman the son of\nHammedatha, and advanced him, and set his seat above all the princes\nthat were with him.\n\nAnd all the king's servants, that were in the king's gate, bowed, and\nreverenced Haman; for the king had so commanded concerning him. But\nMordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence.\n\nThen the king's servants, that were in the king's gate, said unto\nMordecai, \"Why transgressest thou the king's commandment?\"\n\nNow it came to pass, when they spake daily unto him, and he hearkened\nnot unto them, that they told Haman, for Mordecai had told them that he\nwas a Jew.\n\nAnd when Haman saw that Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence, then\nwas Haman full of wrath.\n\nAnd he thought scorn to lay hands on Mordecai alone; wherefore Haman\nsought to destroy all the Jews that were throughout the whole kingdom of\nAhasuerus, even all the people of Mordecai.\n\nAnd Haman said unto King Ahasuerus, \"There is a certain people scattered\nabroad and dispersed among the people in all the provinces of thy\nkingdom; and their laws are diverse from all people, neither keep they\nthe king's laws; therefore it is not for the king's profit to suffer\nthem.\n\n\"If it please the king, let it be written that they may be destroyed,\nand I will pay ten thousand talents of silver to the hands of those that\nhave the charge of the business, to bring it into the king's\ntreasuries.\"\n\n[Illustration: MORDECAI IN THE KING'S GATE]\n\nAnd the king took his ring from his hand, and gave it unto Haman, the\nson of Hammedatha, the Jews' enemy, and said:\n\n\"The people are given to thee to do with them as it seemeth good to\nthee.\"\n\nThen were the king's scribes called, and there was written according to\nall that Haman had commanded, unto the king's lieutenants, governors and\nrulers of every province, and to every people in the kingdom after their\nown language. And it was written in the name of King Ahasuerus and\nsealed with the king's ring.\n\nAnd the letters were sent by posts into all the king's provinces, to\ndestroy and to kill all Jews, both young and old, little children and\nwomen, in one day, even upon the thirteenth day of the twelfth month,\nand to take the spoil of them for a prey.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nWhen Mordecai perceived all that was done, he rent his clothes, and put\non sackcloth with ashes, and went out into the midst of the city, and\ncried with a loud and a bitter cry; and came even before the king's\ngate, for none might enter into the king's gate clothed with sackcloth.\n\nAnd in every province, whithersoever the king's commandment and his\ndecree came, there was great mourning among the Jews, and fasting, and\nweeping, and wailing; and many lay in sackcloth and ashes.\n\nSo Esther's maids and her chamberlains came and told her about Mordecai.\nThen was the queen exceedingly grieved; and she sent raiment to clothe\nMordecai, and to take away his sackcloth from him; but he received it\nnot.\n\nThen called Esther for the chamberlain whom the king had appointed to\nattend upon her, and sent him to Mordecai to know what it was, and why\nit was that he mourned. And the chamberlain went forth to Mordecai unto\nthe street of the city which was before the King's gate.\n\nAnd Mordecai told him of all that had happened unto him.\n\nAlso he gave him the copy of the writing of the decree that was given at\nShushan to destroy the Jews, to show it unto Esther, and to charge her\nthat she should go in unto the king, to make supplication unto him, and\nto make request before him for her people.\n\nThe chamberlain came and told Esther the words of Mordecai, and again\nEsther sent to Mordecai, saying:\n\n\"All the king's servants, and the people of the king's provinces, do\nknow, that for every one, whether man or woman, that shall come unto the\nking into the inner court, when he is not called, there is one law to\nput him to death; except those to whom the king shall hold out the\ngolden sceptre; but I have not been called to come in unto the king\nthese thirty days.\"\n\nAnd they told to Mordecai Esther's words.\n\nThen Mordecai commanded to answer Esther, \"Think not with thyself that\nthou shalt escape in the king's house, more than the other Jews.\n\n\"For if thou altogether holdest thy peace at this time, then shall\ndeliverance arise to the Jews from another source; but thou and thy\nfather's house shall be destroyed. Who knoweth whether thou art not come\nto the kingdom for such a purpose as this?\"\n\n[Illustration: HE PUT ON SACKCLOTH WITH ASHES]\n\nThen Esther bade them return this answer:\n\n\"Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan, and fast\nye for me, and neither eat nor drink for three days, night or day; I\nalso, and my maidens, will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the\nking, although it is not according to the law; and if I perish, I\nperish.\"\n\nSo Mordecai went his way, and did according to all that Esther had\ncommanded him.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nNow it came to pass on the third day, that Esther put on her royal\napparel, and stood in the inner court of the king's house; and the king\nsat upon his royal throne in the royal house, over against the gate of\nthe house.\n\nAnd it was so, when the king saw Esther the queen standing in the court,\nthat she obtained favour in his sight; and the king held out to Esther\nthe golden sceptre that was in his hand. So Esther drew near, and\ntouched the top of the sceptre. Then said the king unto her, \"What wilt\nthou, Queen Esther? and what is thy request? It shall be given thee even\nto the half of my kingdom.\"\n\nAnd Esther answered, \"If it seem good unto the king, let the king and\nHaman come this day unto the banquet that I have prepared for him.\"\n\nThen the king said, \"Cause Haman to make haste, that he may do as Esther\nhath said.\"\n\nSo the king and Haman came to the banquet that Esther had prepared.\n\nAnd the king said unto Esther at the banquet, \"What is thy petition and\nthy request, and it shall be given thee even to the half of my kingdom.\"\n\nThen answered Esther, and said, \"My petition and my request is: If I\nhave found favour in the sight of the king, and if it please the king to\ngrant my petition, and to perform my request, let the king and Haman\ncome to the banquet that I shall prepare for them, and on the morrow I\nwill make my request as the king hath said.\"\n\nThen went Haman forth that day joyful and with a glad heart; but when\nHaman saw, in the king's gate, that Mordecai stood not up, nor moved for\nhim, he was full of indignation against Mordecai. Nevertheless Haman\nrefrained himself; and when he came home, he sent and called for his\nfriends, and his wife. And Haman told them of the glory of his riches,\nand the multitude of his children, and all the things wherein the king\nhad promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the princes and\nservants of the king.\n\nHaman said moreover, \"Yea, Esther the queen did let no man come in with\nthe king unto the banquet that she had prepared but myself; and to-\nmorrow am I invited unto her also with the king.\n\n\"Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew\nsitting at the king's gate.\"\n\nThen said his wife and all his friends, \"Let a gallows be made of fifty\ncubits high, and to-morrow speak thou unto the king that Mordecai may be\nhanged thereon; then go thou in merrily with the king unto the banquet.\"\nAnd the thing pleased Haman; and he caused the gallows to be made.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nOn that night could not the king sleep, and he commanded to bring the\nbook of records of the chronicles; and they were read before the king.\n\nAnd it was found written therein that Mordecai had told of the two\nkeepers of the door who had sought to lay hand on King Ahasuerus.\n\nAnd the king said, \"What honour and dignity hath been done to Mordecai\nfor this?\"\n\nThen said the king's servants that ministered unto him, \"There is\nnothing done for him.\"\n\nAnd the king said, \"Who is in the court?\"\n\nNow Haman was come into the outward court of the king's house, to ask\nthe king to hang Mordecai on the gallows that he had prepared for him.\n\nAnd the king's servants said unto Ahasuerus, \"Behold, Haman standeth in\nthe court.\"\n\nAnd the king said, \"Let him come in.\"\n\nSo Haman came in. And the king said unto him, \"What shall be done unto\nthe man whom the king delighteth to honour?\"\n\nNow Haman thought in his heart, \"To whom would the king delight to do\nhonour more than to myself?\" And Haman answered the king, \"For the man\nwhom the king delighteth to honour, let the royal apparel be brought\nwhich the king weareth, and the horse that the king rideth upon, and the\ncrown royal which is set upon his head. And let this apparel and horse\nbe delivered to the hand of one of the king's most noble princes, that\nthey may array the man whom the king delighteth to honour, and bring him\non horseback through the street of the city, and proclaim before him,\n'Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delighteth to honour.'\"\n\nThen the king said to Haman, \"Make haste, and take the apparel and the\nhorse, as thou hast said, and do even so to Mordecai the Jew, that\nsitteth at the king's gate; let nothing fail of all that thou hast\nspoken.\"\n\nThen took Haman the apparel and the horse, and arrayed Mordecai, and\nbrought him on horseback through the street of the city, and proclaimed\nbefore him, \"Thus shall it be done unto the man whom the king delighteth\nto honour.\"\n\nAnd Mordecai came again to the king's gate. But Haman hasted to his\nhouse, mourning, and having his head covered.\n\nAnd Haman told his wife and all his friends everything that had befallen\nhim.\n\nThen said his wise men and his wife, \"If Mordecai be of the seed of the\nJews, before whom thou hast begun to fall, thou shalt not prevail\nagainst him, but shalt surely fall before him.\"\n\nAnd while they were yet talking with him, came the king's chamberlains,\nand hasted to bring Haman unto the banquet that Esther had prepared.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nSo the king and Haman came to the banquet with Esther the queen.\n\nAnd the king said again unto Esther on the second day at the banquet of\nwine, \"What is thy petition, Queen Esther? and it shall be granted thee;\nand what is thy request? and it shall be performed, even to the half of\nthe kingdom.\"\n\nThen Esther the queen answered and said, \"If I have found favour in thy\nsight, O king, and if it please the king, let my life be given me at my\npetition, and my people at my request, for we are sold, I and my people,\nto be destroyed, to be slain, and to perish. But if we had been sold for\nbondmen and bondwomen only, I had held my tongue.\"\n\nThen the king Ahasuerus answered and said unto Esther the queen, \"Who is\nhe, and where is he, that durst presume in his heart to do so?\"\n\nAnd Esther said, \"The adversary and enemy is this wicked Haman.\" Then\nHaman was afraid before the king and the queen.\n\nAnd one of the chamberlains said before the king, \"Behold, the gallows\nfifty cubits high, which Haman had made for Mordecai, who had spoken\ngood for the king, standeth in the house of Haman.\"\n\nThen the king said, \"Hang him thereon.\"\n\nSo they hanged Haman on the gallows that he had prepared for Mordecai.\nThen was the king's wrath pacified.\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nAnd Mordecai came before the king; for Esther had told what he was unto\nher. And the king took off his ring, which he had taken from Haman, and\ngave it unto Mordecai. And Esther set Mordecai over the house of Haman.\n\nAnd Esther spake yet again before the king, and fell down at his feet,\nand besought him with tears to put away the mischief that Haman had\ndevised against the Jews.\n\nThen the king held out the golden sceptre toward Esther. So Esther arose\nand stood before the king, and said, \"If it please the king, and if I\nhave found favour in his sight, and the thing seem right before the\nking, and I be pleasing in his eyes, let it be written to reverse the\nletters devised by Haman the son of Hammedatha, which he wrote to\ndestroy the Jews which are in all the king's provinces; for how can I\nendure to see the evil that shall come unto my people? or how can I\nendure to see the destruction of my kindred?\"\n\n[Illustration: THEN HAMAN WAS AFRAID]\n\nThen the king Ahasuerus said unto Esther the queen, and to Mordecai the\nJew, \"Behold, I have given Esther the house of Haman, and him they have\nhanged upon the gallows, because he laid his hand upon the Jews.\n\n\"Write ye also for the Jews, as it liketh you, in the king's name, and\nseal it with the king's ring; for the writing which is written in the\nking's name, and sealed with the king's ring, may no man reverse.\"\n\nThen were the king's scribes called, and it was written according to all\nthat Mordecai commanded, unto the Jews, unto every province and unto\nevery people according to their writing, and according to their\nlanguage.\n\nAnd Mordecai went out from the presence of the king in royal apparel of\nblue and white, and with a great crown of gold, and with a garment of\nfine linen and purple; and the city of Shushan rejoiced and was glad.\nThe Jews had light, and gladness, and joy, and honour.\n\nAnd in every province, and in every city, whithersoever the king's\ncommandment and his decree came, the Jews had joy and gladness, a feast\nand a good day. And many of the people of the land became Jews; for the\nfear of the Jews fell upon them.\n\n\nThe story of Esther as told here is taken from the book of Esther in the\nBible. It has been abridged slightly, and a few words changed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DARNING-NEEDLE\n\nBy Hans Christian Andersen\n\n\nThere was once a Darning-Needle who thought herself so fine, she\nimagined she was an embroidering needle.\n\n\"Take care, and mind you hold me tight!\" she said to the Fingers which\ntook her out. \"Don't let me fall! If I fall on the ground I shall\ncertainly never be found again, for I am so fine!\"\n\n\"That's as it may be,\" said the Fingers; and they grasped her round the\nbody.\n\n\"See, I'm coming with a train!\" said the Darning-Needle, and she drew a\nlong thread after her, but there was no knot in the thread.\n\nThe Fingers pointed the needle just at the cook's slipper, in which the\nupper leather had burst, and was to be sewn together.\n\n\"That's vulgar work,\" said the Darning-Needle. \"I shall never get\nthrough. I'm breaking! I'm breaking!\" And she really broke. \"Did I not\nsay so?\" said the Darning-Needle; \"I'm too fine.\" \"Now it's quite\nuseless,\" said the Fingers; but they were obliged to hold her fast, all\nthe same; for the cook dropped some sealing wax upon the needle, and\npinned her kerchief about her neck with it.\n\n\"So now I'm a breastpin!\" said the Darning-Needle. \"I knew very well\nthat I should come to honor; when one is something, one comes to\nsomething.\"\n\nAnd she laughed quietly to herself--and one can never see when a\nDarning-Needle laughs. There she sat, as proud as if she were in a state\ncoach, and looked all about her.\n\n\"May I be permitted to ask if you are gold?\" she inquired of the Pin,\nher neighbor. \"You have a very pretty appearance, and a peculiar head,\nbut it is only little. You must take pains to grow, for it's not every\none that has sealing wax dropped upon him.\"\n\nAnd the Darning-Needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of\nthe handkerchief right into the sink, which the cook was rinsing out.\n\n\"Now we're going on a journey,\" said the Darning-Needle. \"If I only\ndon't get lost!\"\n\nBut she really was lost.\n\n\"I'm too fine for this world,\" she observed, as she lay in the gutter.\n\"But I know who I am, and there's always something in that.\"\n\nSo the Darning-Needle kept her proud behavior, and did not lose her good\nhumor. And things of many kinds swam over her--chips and straws and\npieces of old newspapers.\n\n\"Only look how they sail!\" said the Darning-Needle. \"They don't know\nwhat is under them! I'm here; I remain firmly here. See, there goes a\nchip thinking of nothing in the world but himself--of a chip! There's a\nstraw going by now. How he turns? How he twirls about! Don't think only\nof yourself; you might easily run up against a stone. There swims a bit\nof newspaper. What's written upon it has long been forgotten, and yet it\ngives itself airs. I sit quietly and patiently here. I know who I am,\nand I shall remain what I am.\"\n\nOne day something lay close beside her that glittered splendidly; then\nthe Darning-Needle believed that it was a diamond; but it was a Bit of\nbroken Bottle; and because it shone, the Darning-Needle spoke to it,\nintroducing herself as a breastpin.\n\n\"I suppose you are a diamond?\" she observed.\n\n\"Why, yes, something of that kind.\"\n\nAnd then each believed the other to be a very valuable thing; and they\nbegan speaking about the world, and how very conceited it was.\n\n\"I have been in a lady's box,\" said the Darning-Needle, \"and this lady\nwas a cook. She had five fingers on each hand, and I never saw anything\nso conceited as those five fingers. And yet they were only there that\nthey might take me out of the box, and put me back into it.\"\n\n\"Were they of good birth?\" asked the Bit of Bottle.\n\n\"No, indeed,\" replied the Darning-Needle, \"but very haughty. There were\nfive brothers, all of the Finger family. They kept very proudly\ntogether, though they were of different lengths. The outermost, the\nThumbling, was short and fat; he walked out in front of the ranks, and\nhad only one joint in his back, and could only make a single bow; but he\nsaid if he were hacked off from a man, that man was useless for service\nin war. Dainty-Mouth, the second finger, thrust himself into sweet and\nsour, pointed to the sun and moon, and gave the impression when they\nwrote. Longman, the third, looked at all the others over his shoulder.\nGoldborder, the fourth, went about with a golden belt round his waist;\nand little Playman did nothing at all, and was proud of it. There was\nnothing but bragging among them, and therefore I went away.\"\n\n\"And now we sit here and glitter!\" said the Bit of Bottle.\n\nAt that moment more water came into the gutter, so that it overflowed,\nand the Bit of Bottle was carried away.\n\n\"So, he is disposed of,\" observed the Darning-Needle. \"I remain here; I\nam too fine. But that's my pride, and my pride is honorable.\" And\nproudly she sat there, and had many great thoughts. \"I could almost\nbelieve I had been born of a sunbeam, I'm so fine. It really appears to\nme as if the sunbeams were always seeking for me under the water. Ah!\nI'm so fine that my mother cannot find me. If I had my old eye, which\nbroke off, I think I should cry; but no, I should not do that; it's not\ngenteel to cry.\"\n\nOne day a couple of street boys lay grubbing in the gutter, where they\nsometimes found old nails, farthings, and similar treasures. It was\ndirty work, but they took great delight in it.\n\n\"Oh!\" cried one, who had pricked himself with the Darning-Needle.\n\"There's a fellow for you.\"\n\n\"I'm not a fellow, I'm a young lady,\" said the Darning-Needle.\n\nBut nobody listened to her. The sealing wax had come off, and she had\nturned black; but black makes one look slender, and she thought herself\nfiner even than before.\n\n\"Here comes an eggshell sailing along,\" said the boys; and they stuck\nthe Darning-Needle fast into the eggshell.\n\n\"White walls, and black myself! that looks well,\" remarked the Darning-\nNeedle. \"Now one can see me. I only hope I shall not be seasick!\" But\nshe was not seasick at all. \"One is proof against seasickness if one has\na steel stomach and does not forget that one is a little more than an\nordinary person! The finer one is, the more one can bear.\"\n\n\"Crack!\" went the eggshell, for a hand-barrow went over her.\n\n\"How it crushes one!\" said the Darning-Needle. \"I'm getting seasick now\n--I'm quite sick.\"\n\nBut she was not really sick, though the hand-barrow had run over her;\nshe lay there at full length, and there she may lie.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POTATO\n\nBy Thomas Moore\n\n\n I'm a careless potato, and care not a pin\n     How into existence I came;\n If they planted me drill-wise, or dibbled me in,\n     To me 'tis exactly the same.\n The bean and the pea may more loftily tower,\n     But I care not a button for them;\n Defiance I nod with my beautiful flower\n     When the earth is hoed up to my stem.\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUEEN OF THE UNDER-WORLD\n\n\nCeres, goddess of agriculture, had one daughter, named Proserpina, whom\nshe loved more than anything else in earth or sky. Sometimes Proserpina\naccompanied her mother as she journeyed over the earth in her dragon-\ncar, making the corn grow; sometimes she traveled about the earth by\nherself, tending the flowers, which were her special care; but what she\nliked best was to stray with her companions, the nymphs, on the slopes\nof Mount AEtna,\n\n                         \"I, a maiden, dwelt\n With loved Demeter[FN below] on the sunny plains\n Of our own Sicily. There, day by day,\n I sported with my playmate goddesses\n In virgin freedom. Budding age made gay\n Our lightsome feet, and on the flowery slopes\n We wandered daily, gathering flowers to weave\n In careless garlands for our locks, and passed\n The days in innocent gladness.\"\n\n[Footnote: The Greeks and Romans, while they believed in many of the\nsame gods, had different names for them. The Latin names are the ones\nmost commonly used. Thus the goddess whom the Romans called Ceres, the\nGreeks knew as Demeter, while her daughter, Proserpina, was by the\nGreeks called Persephone. The poetic quotations used in this story are\nfrom the Epic of Hades, by Lewis Morris.]\n\nAll the year round the maidens enjoyed these pleasures, for never yet\nhad the change of seasons appeared upon the earth; never had the cold,\nsunless days come to make the earth barren.\n\n                        \"There was then\n Summer nor winter, springtide nor the time\n Of harvest, but the soft unfailing sun\n Shone always, and the sowing time was one\n With reaping; fruit and flower together sprung\n Upon the trees; and the blade and ripened ear\n Together clothed the plains.\"\n\nOne day while they played and laughed and sang, vying with each other as\nto which could make the most beautiful garlands, they were startled by a\nstrange rumbling sound. Nearer it came, louder it grew; and suddenly to\nthe frightened eyes of the maidens there appeared a great chariot, drawn\nby four wild-looking, foam-flecked black steeds. Not long did the girls\ngaze at the horses or the chariot--all eyes were drawn in fascination to\nthe driver of the car. He was handsome as only a god could be, and yet\nso gloomy that all knew instantly he could be none other than Pluto,\nking of the underworld.\n\nSuddenly, while his horses were almost at full speed, he jerked them to\na standstill. Then he sprang to the ground, seized Proserpina in his\narms, mounted his chariot, and was off before the frightened nymphs\ncould catch their breath to cry out. Poor Prosperina screamed and wept,\nbut no one was near to help her or even to hear her. On they flew, Pluto\ndoing his best to console the weeping girl, but refusing, with a stern\nshake of the head and a black frown, her plea that she might be allowed\nto return to her own home, or at least to bid farewell to her mother.\n\n[Illustration: PLUTO SEIZED PROSERPINA]\n\n\"Never!\" he exclaimed. \"I have as much right as the other gods to a\nbeautiful wife; and since I knew that you, whom I had seen and loved,\nwould not go with me willingly, I took this way to compel you.\"\n\nWhen they came at last to the bank of a raging river, and were obliged\nto halt, Proserpina redoubled her cries, but still no one heard. Pluto,\nfuming and fretting and calling down curses on the River Cyane, which\nthus opposed his passage, seized his great two-pronged fork and struck\nthe earth a terrific blow. To Proserpina's horror a great cavern opened\nbefore them, into which they were rapidly whirled. Then, with a crash,\nthe chasm closed behind them, and they moved on in utter darkness. The\nhorses seemed to find their way as easily as in the light, however, and\nPluto heaved a sigh of relief as the last of the daylight disappeared.\n\n\"Do not tremble so, my fair Proserpina,\" he said, in a voice far from\nunkind. \"When your eyes become accustomed to the gloom, you will find it\nmuch more restful than the glare we have left behind us.\"\n\nProserpina's only reply was \"My mother! O, my poor mother!\" And truly\nCeres deserved pity. She had hastened at evening back to her home in\nSicily, happy in the thought of seeing her daughter, only to find that\ndaughter gone. The nymphs had retreated, long before, to their beds of\nseaweed in the green ocean, and no one else could give the poor\ndistracted mother any news. When black night had really settled over the\nearth, Ceres closed the door of her home, vowing never to open it until\nshe returned with Proserpina. Then, lighting a torch, she set forth,\nalone and on foot, to seek her daughter.\n\nFrom country to country she roamed, all over the earth, neither eating\nnor sleeping, but spending day and night in her search. Of every one she\nmet she demanded, \"Have you seen my daughter?\"\n\nNo one recognized her; and small wonder, for her grief had changed her\nin appearance from a radiant goddess to a haggard, sad-eyed old woman.\n\"Mad,\" whispered people as they passed her; for her clothes were ragged\nand flapping about her, and always, even in the brightest sunlight, she\nbore in her hand the lighted torch.\n\nOne day, weary and hopeless, she sank upon a stone by the roadside, and\nsat there with her head in her hands, wondering to what land she could\nnext turn her footsteps.\n\nA soft, pitying voice broke in upon her grief, and she raised her head\nto see two young girls standing before her.\n\n\"Poor old woman,\" said one, \"why are you so sad?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" cried Ceres, \"when I look upon you I am sadder still, for I have\nlost my only child.\"\n\nImpulsively the older girl held out her hand. \"Come with us,\" she urged.\n\"We are the daughters of the king of this country, and were but now\nseeking through the city for a nurse for our baby brother, Triptolemus.\nYou, who have lost the child you loved--will you not take charge of our\nbrother and bestow on him some of your love?\"\n\nTouched by their kindness, Ceres followed them; and indeed, she felt the\nfirst joy she had known since the disappearance of her daughter when the\nlittle prince was put into her arms. But such a weak, puny, wailing\nprincelet as he was! Ceres smiled down at him, and bent her head and\nkissed him; when, to the utter amazement of those gathered about, he\nceased the crying which he had kept up for days, smiled, and clapped his\nlittle hands.\n\nAnd, unless their eyes much deceived them, he began to grow round and\nrosy and well!\n\n\"Will you give this child entirely into my keeping?\" asked Ceres.\n\n\"Gladly, gladly!\" exclaimed the mother, Metanira. For who would not have\nbeen glad to engage a nurse whose mere touch worked such wonders?\n\nBut as the child's bedtime drew near, Metanira became worried and\nrestless. No one but herself had ever tended him before--was it really\nsafe to trust this stranger? At least, she would watch; and quietly she\nstole to the door which separated her own apartment from that which had\nbeen given to Ceres. The stranger sat before the hearth, with the\ncrowing, happy baby on her knee. Gently she drew off his clothing,\ngently she anointed him with some liquid, the delicious perfume of which\nreached Metanira. Then, murmuring some sounding, rhythmic words, she\nleaned forward and placed him on the glowing coals.\n\nShrieking, Metanira rushed into the room and caught up her baby, burning\nherself badly in the act; and furiously she turned to the aged nurse.\n\n\"How dare you--\" she began; but there she stopped; for before her stood,\nnot the ragged stranger, but a woman taller than mortal, with flowing\nyellow hair, bound with a wreath of wheat ears and red poppies. And from\nher face shone a light so bright that Metanira was well-nigh blinded.\n\n\"O queen,\" she said gravely, \"thy curiosity and thy lack of faith have\ncost thy son dear. Immortality was the gift I meant to bestow upon him,\nbut now he shall grow old and die at last as other men.\" And with these\nwords the goddess vanished. [Footnote: Although Ceres was unable to do\nall she wished for Triptolemus, she did not forget him. When he grew up\nshe loaned him her dragon-car and sent him about the world teaching\npeople how to till the soil, and, in particular, to use the plow. It was\nTriptolemus who instituted the great festival at Eleusis which was held\nin honor of Ceres.]\n\nStill finding no trace of her daughter, Ceres cursed the earth and\nforbade it to bring forth fruit until Proserpina should be found.\n\n                    \"Then on all lands\n She cast the spell of barrenness; the wheat\n Was blighted in the ear, the purple grapes\n Blushed no more on the vines.\"\n\nGreat indeed must have been the anguish of this kindest of all goddesses\nwhen she could bring herself to adopt such measures. Even the grief and\nwant of the people among whom she moved could not waken her pity.\n\nOne day, when her wanderings had brought her back to Italy, Ceres came\nto the bank of the Cyane River, and there, glittering at her feet, was\nthe girdle which she had watched her daughter put on the last day she\nsaw her. Torn between hope and fear, Ceres snatched it up. Had\nProserpina, then, been drowned in this raging river? At any rate, it was\nmuch, after all these months, to find something which her dear daughter\nhad touched, and with renewed energy she started on. As she rested, late\nin the day, by the side of a cool, sparkling fountain, she fancied she\nheard words mingling with the splashing of the water. Holding her\nbreath, she listened:\n\n\"O Ceres,\" came the words, scarcely distinguishable, \"I made a long\njourney underground, to cool my waters ere they burst forth at this\npoint. As I passed through the lower world, I saw, seated beside Pluto\non his gloomy throne, a queen, crowned with stars and poppies. Strangely\nlike Proserpina she looked.\"\n\nThe words died away, and Ceres, knowing well that none but the king of\ngods could help her now, hastened to Olympus and cast herself at the\nfeet of Jupiter.\n\n\"Listen, O father of gods and men,\" she said. \"What is that sound which\nyou hear rising from the earth?\"\n\n\"It sounds to me,\" replied Jupiter, \"like the wailing of men, joined\nwith the bleating of sheep and the lowing of cattle. Who is afflicting\nmy people on earth?\"\n\n\"It is I,\" replied Ceres sternly; \"I, of old their best friend. Never\nshall spear of grass or blade of corn show above the ground, never shall\nblossom or fruit appear on any tree, until my beloved daughter is\nbrought back to me from the realm of Pluto.\"\n\nThen indeed there was consternation on Olympus; for Jupiter did not wish\nto anger his brother, and yet, how could he let the earth continue to be\nbarren? There was much consulting of the Fates, those three dread\nsisters whose decrees even Jupiter could not break, and finally Jupiter\ncalled Mercury to him, and said:\n\n\"Hasten to the lower world, and lead thence Proserpina, the daughter of\nCeres. Only, if during her stay there she have allowed food to pass her\nlips, she shall not return.\"\n\nMeanwhile, Proserpina had been dwelling in gloom. How could one whose\nchief care had been the flowers, whose chief joy had been to stray\nabroad in the sunshine with gay companions, be happy in a realm where\nthe sun never shone, where no flowers ever grew save the white, sleep-\nbringing poppies, where she had no companions except the gloomy king of\nthe dead? Pluto was kind to her, he showered jewels upon her, and\ngorgeous raiment; but what meant such things to her when she could not\ndelight with them the eyes of her mother and her friends? The dead over\nwhom she reigned she could not even make happy, and the only one who\nseemed to have profited at all by her coming to Hades was Pluto, who was\nof a certainty somewhat less stern and gloomy.\n\nOf all the food that had been set before Proserpina since she entered\nHades, nothing had tempted her but a pomegranate, and of that she had\neaten but six seeds. This one taste of food, however, she soon had\nreason to regret, for ere long Mercury, Jupiter's messenger, stood\nbefore Pluto and cried with a flourish:\n\n\"Hear the decree of mighty Jupiter and of the Fates, powerful over all.\nThe Lady Proserpina shall return with me, the messenger of mighty\nJupiter, to the upper world. Only, if she have allowed food to pass her\nlips, she shall not return, but shall remain queen of the dead forever.\"\n\nProserpina turned pale--paler than her months underground had made her--\nbut she said nothing. Then, from the throng of spirits who had crowded\nround to see the messenger of the gods, stepped forth one, Ascalaphus.\nNo pity for the white-faced, sad-eyed queen moved him as he told how he\nhad seen Proserpina eat of the pomegranate. Poor Proserpina felt that\nshe would never see her beloved mother again, and was overwhelmed with\ngrief when the messenger of the gods, the first cheerful personage she\nhad seen since leaving earth, turned to depart.\n\nMercury was a kindly god, and he described to his father and the Fates\nmost touchingly the grief of Proserpina. Ceres joined her tears with\nthose of her daughter, and the Fates finally decreed that while\nProserpina must spend underground one month of every year for each\npomegranate seed she had eaten, she might spend the rest of her time on\nearth. Back hastened Mercury with the new decree, and Pluto unwillingly\nlet his wife go. She bade him an almost affectionate farewell, for after\nall, he had been good to her, and she might quite have loved him had his\nabode been a less gloomy place. Up the dark and dangerous passages to\nearth Mercury conducted her, and it was strange to see how, as she\nstepped forth into the sunshine, her pallor and her sadness left her,\nand she became the bright-eyed, happy Proserpina of old. And not only in\nher did the change appear. About her, on all sides, the grass and corn\ncame shooting through the dry brown earth. Violets, hyacinths, daisies\nwere everywhere, and Proserpina stooped and caressed them, with a gay\nlaugh. But what was her joy when she saw at the door of her home Mother\nCeres, with arms outstretched to greet her! Not even the thought of the\nseparation which must surely come again could sadden their meeting. For\nthat day they sat together and talked of all that had happened in the\nweary months gone by; but the next morning Ceres mounted her dragon-car\nfor the first time in many, many days, and set forth to the fields to\ntend the new grain, while Proserpina ran to the seashore and with a\nhappy shout called the nymphs, her old companions, from their seaweed\nbeds.\n\nEach year thereafter, when Proserpina was led by Mercury to Pluto's\nkingdom, Ceres, in grief and anger, shut herself up and would not attend\nto her duties, so that the earth was barren and drear. Each year, with\nthe return of Proserpina, the flash of green ran across the fields and\nannounced her coming before she appeared in sight. And all the people,\nweary and depressed after the hard, bitter months, joyed with Ceres at\nher daughter's approach, and cried with her, \"She comes! She comes!\nProserpina!\"\n\nThis story, like that of Phaethon, is a nature myth; that is, it\naccounts for natural phenomena which the Greeks saw about them. As they\nconceived of Ceres, the earth goddess, as the kindest of the immortals,\nand of her daughter, Proserpina, the goddess of flowers and beautifying\nvegetation, as always young and happy, they found it hard to explain the\nbarrenness of the winter months. Why should Ceres and Proserpina neglect\nthe earth during a part of the year, so that it would bring forth\nnothing, no matter how much care was bestowed upon it?\n\nWe must remember that the people who invented these stories really\nbelieved that the earth produced grain and fruit because some goddess\nbestowed upon it her care. They even fancied, sometimes, as they entered\ntheir fields, that they saw Ceres, with her dragon-car and her crown of\nwheat ears, vanishing before them. And they did not say, during winter\nmonths, \"The ground is hard and frozen, and thus cannot give food to the\nplants;\" or, \"The seed must lie underground for a time before it can\nsend its roots down and its leaves up, and bring forth fruit.\" They\nsaid, \"Mother Ceres is neglecting the earth.\"\n\nWhat more natural, then, than that they should imagine that the earth\ngoddess was mourning for the loss of something and refusing to attend to\nher duties? And since the flowers, the special care of Ceres's daughter,\ndisappeared at the same time, it seemed most likely that it was this\ndaughter who had disappeared, stolen and held captive underground. When,\neach year, the time of her captivity was at an end, Ceres went joyfully\nback to her work, the flowers and grass once more appeared--in a word,\nit was spring.\n\nLooked at in a slightly different way, Proserpina represented the seed\nwhich is placed underground. For a time it is held there, apparently\ngone forever; but at last it appears above the earth in fresher,\nbrighter guise, just as the daughter of Ceres reappeared.\n\nIt is held by some that this myth is a symbol or allegory of the death\nof man and his ultimate resurrection. That, however, does not seem\nextremely likely, as the ancients, although they believed in the life of\nthe soul after death, conceived of that life as something far from\npleasant, even for those who had led good lives.\n\n\nThe story of Proserpina has been used as a subject for many paintings.\nOne of the best-known of these is Rosetti's \"Persephone,\" which shows\nher as she stands, sad-eyed, with the bitten fruit in her hand.\n\n\n\n\nORIGIN OF THE OPAL\n\n\nA dewdrop came, with a spark of flame\n  He had caught from the sun's last ray,\nTo a violet's breast, where he lay at rest\n  Till the hours brought back the day.\n\nThe rose looked down, with a blush and frown;\n  But she smiled all at once, to view\nHer own bright form, with its coloring warm,\n  Reflected back by the dew.\n\nThen the stranger took a stolen look\n  At the sky, so soft and blue;\nAnd a leaflet green, with its silver sheen,\n  Was seen by the idler too.\n\nA cold north wind, as he thus reclined,\n  Of a sudden raged around;\nAnd a maiden fair, who was walking there,\n  Next morning, an OPAL found.\n\n\n\n\nIN TIME'S SWING\n\nBy Lucy Larcom\n\n\nFather Time, your footsteps go\nLightly as the falling snow.\nIn your swing I'm sitting, see!\nPush me softly; one, two, three,\nTwelve times only. Like a sheet,\nSpread the snow beneath my feet.\nSinging merrily, let me swing\nOut of winter into spring.\n\nSwing me out, and swing me in!\nTrees are bare, but birds begin\nTwittering to the peeping leaves,\nOn the bough beneath the eaves\nWait,--one lilac bud I saw.\nIcy hillsides feel the thaw;\nApril chased off March to-day;\nNow I catch a glimpse of May.\n\nOh, the smell of sprouting grass!\nIn a blur the violets pass.\nWhispering from the wildwood come\nMayflower's breath and insect's hum.\nRoses carpeting the ground;\nThrushes, orioles, warbling sound:\nSwing me low, and swing me high,\nTo the warm clouds of July.\n\nSlower now, for at my side\nWhite pond lilies open wide.\nUnderneath the pine's tall spire\nCardinal blossoms burn like fire.\nThey are gone; the golden-rod\nFlashes from the dark green sod.\nCrickets in the grass I hear;\nAsters light the fading year.\n\n[Illustration: Father Time pushes the swing]\n\nSlower still! October weaves\nRainbows of the forest leaves.\nGentians fringed, like eyes of blue,\nGlimmer out of sleety dew.\nMeadow-green I sadly miss:\nWinds through withered sedges hiss.\nOh, 'tis snowing, swing me fast,\nWhile December shivers past!\n\nFrosty-bearded Father Time,\nStop your footfall on the rime!\nHard you push, your hand is rough;\nYou have swung me long enough.\n\"Nay, no stopping,\" say you? Well,\nSome of your best stories tell,\nWhile you swing me--gently, do!--\nFrom the Old Year to the New.\n\n\nThe title tells you that this poem is not about a real swing, under an\napple tree. Why is Time asked to push \"twelve times only\"? What month is\nit when the swinging begins? How many times does the swing move in the\nfirst stanza? How many times in the second? Do the birds begin to\ntwitter while the trees are still bare? Should we expect to see lilac\nbuds in February or March?\n\nDo you know the \"smell of sprouting grass\"? Do the violets pass in May?\nDoes it seem to you that the author has chosen the right flowers and\nbirds to represent each month? Do the pond lilies, the cardinal\nblossoms, the golden-rod, the asters, and the gentians follow each other\nin that order?\n\nIf you are familiar with the flowers mentioned, you will know that they\nalmost all grow in damp, marshy places. Where do sedges grow? Does it\nnot seem to you that the illustrations are particularly well chosen?\n\nThere is a series of beautiful little pictures in the words, \"underneath\nthe pine's tall spire cardinal blossoms burn like fire\"; \"the golden-rod\nflashes from the dark green sod\"; \"asters light the fading year\";\n\"gentians fringed ...glimmer out of sleety dew.\"\n\n\n\n\nWHY THE SEA IS SALT\n\nBy Mary Howitt\n\n\nThere were, in very ancient times, two brothers, one of whom was rich,\nand the other poor. Christmas was approaching, but the poor man had\nnothing in the house for a Christmas dinner; so he went to his brother\nand asked him for a trifling gift.\n\nThe rich man was ill-natured, and when he heard his brother's request he\nlooked very surly. But as Christmas is a time when even the worst people\ngive gifts, he took a fine ham down from the chimney, where it was\nhanging to smoke, threw it at his brother, and bade him be gone and\nnever show his face again.\n\nThe poor man thanked his brother for the ham, put it under his arm, and\nwent his way. He had to pass through a great forest on his way home, and\nwhen he reached the thickest part of it, he saw an old man, with a long,\nwhite beard, hewing timber. \"Good evening,\" said the poor man.\n\n\"Good evening,\" returned the old man, raising himself from his work, and\nlooking at him. \"That is a fine ham you are carrying.\"\n\nOn hearing this, the poor man told him all about the ham and how it was\nobtained.\n\n\"It is lucky for you,\" says the old man, \"that you have met with me. If\nyou will take that ham into the land of the dwarfs, the entrance to\nwhich lies just under the roots of this tree, you can make a capital\nbargain with it; for the dwarfs are very fond of ham, and rarely get\nany. But mind what I say; you must not sell it for money, but demand for\nit the old hand-mill which stands behind the door. When you come back\nI'll show you how to use it.\"\n\nThe poor man thanked his new friend, who showed him the door under a\nstone below the roots of the tree, and by this door he entered into the\nland of the dwarfs. No sooner had he set foot in it than the dwarfs\nswarmed about him, attracted by the smell of the ham. They offered him\nqueer, old-fashioned money and gold and silver ore for it; but he\nrefused all their tempting offers, and said that he would sell it only\nfor the old hand-mill behind the door. At this the dwarfs held up their\nlittle old hands and looked quite perplexed.\n\n\"We cannot make a bargain, it seems,\" said the poor man, \"so I'll bid\nyou all good day.\"\n\nThe fragrance of the ham had by this time reached the remote parts of\nthe land. The dwarfs came flocking around in little troops, leaving\ntheir work of digging out precious ores, eager for the ham. \"Let him\nhave the old mill,\" said some of the newcomers; \"it is quite out of\norder, and he does not know how to use it. Let him have it, and we will\nhave the ham.\"\n\nSo the bargain was made. The poor man took the old hand-mill, which was\na little thing, not half so large as the ham, and went back to the\nwoods. Here the old man showed him how to use it. All this had taken up\na great deal of time, and it was midnight before he reached home.\n\n\"Where in the world have you been?\" said his wife. \"Here I have been\nwaiting and waiting, and we have no wood to make a fire, nor anything to\nput into the porridge-pot for our Christmas supper.\"\n\n[Illustration: SO THE BARGAIN WAS MADE]\n\nThe house was dark and cold; but the poor man bade his wife wait and see\nwhat would happen. He placed the little hand-mill on the table, and\nbegan to turn the crank. First, out there came some grand, lighted wax\ncandles, and a fire on the hearth, and a porridge-pot boiling over it,\nbecause in his mind he said they should come first. Then he ground out a\ntablecloth, and dishes, and spoons, and knives and forks, and napkins.\n\nHe was himself astonished at his good luck, as you may believe; and his\nwife was almost beside herself with joy and astonishment. Well, they had\na capital supper; and after it was eaten, they ground out of the mill\nevery possible thing to make their house and themselves warm and\ncomfortable. So they had a merry Christmas eve and morning, made merrier\nby the thought that they need never want again.\n\nWhen the people went by the house to church the next day, they could\nhardly believe their eyes. There was glass in the windows instead of\nwooden shutters, and the poor man and his wife, dressed in new clothes,\nwere seen devoutly kneeling in the church.\n\n\"There is something very strange in all this,\" said every one.\n\n\"Something very strange indeed,\" said the rich man, when three days\nafterwards he received an invitation from his once poor brother to a\ngrand feast. And what a feast it was! The table was covered with a cloth\nas white as snow, and the dishes were all of silver or gold. The rich\nman could not in his great house, and with all his wealth, set out such\na table, or serve such food.\n\n\"Where did you get all these things?\" exclaimed he. His brother told him\nall about the bargain he had made with the dwarfs, and putting the mill\non the table, ground out boots and shoes, coats and cloaks, stockings,\ngowns, and blankets, and bade his wife give them to the poor people that\nhad gathered about the house to get a sight of the grand feast the poor\nbrother had made for the rich one, and to sniff the delightful odors\nthat came from the kitchen.\n\nThe rich man was very envious of his brother's good fortune, and wanted\nto borrow the mill, intending--for he was not an honest man--never to\nreturn it again. His brother would not lend it, for the old man with the\nwhite beard had told him never to sell or lend it to any one, no matter\nwhat inducements might be offered.\n\nSome years went by, and at last the possessor of the mill built himself\na grand castle on a rock by the sea, facing west. Its windows,\nreflecting the golden sunset, could be seen far out from the shore, and\nit became a noted landmark for sailors. Strangers from foreign parts\noften came to see this castle and the wonderful mill, of which the most\nextraordinary tales were told.\n\nAt length a great foreign merchant came, and when he had seen the mill,\ninquired whether it would grind salt. Being told that it would, he\nwanted to buy it, for he traded in salt, and thought that if he owned\nthe mill he could supply all his customers without taking long and\ndangerous voyages.\n\nThe man would not sell it, of course. He was so rich now that he did not\nwant to use it for himself; but every Christmas he ground out food and\nclothes and coal for the poor, and nice presents for the little\nchildren. So he rejected all the offers of the rich merchant, who,\nhowever, determined to have it. He bribed one of the man's servants to\nlet him go into the castle at night, and he stole the mill and sailed\naway in triumph, feeling certain that his fortune was made.\n\nHe had scarcely got out to sea before he determined to set the mill to\nwork. \"Now, mill, grind salt,\" said he; \"grind salt with all your\nmight!--Salt, salt, and nothing but salt!\" The mill began to grind, and\nthe sailors to fill the sacks; but these were soon full, and in spite of\nall that could be done, it began to fill the ship.\n\nThe dishonest merchant was now very much frightened. What was to be\ndone? The mill would not stop grinding; and at last the ship was\noverloaded, and down it went, making a great whirlpool where it sank.\n\nThe ship went to pieces; but the mill stands on the bottom of the sea,\nand keeps grinding out \"salt, salt, nothing but salt!\" That is the\nreason, say the peasants of Denmark and Norway, why the sea is salt.","title":"Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 2","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":123843}