A Little Book of Profitable Tales

the music in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than b

d see the Christmas day a-dawning! The prince i

ondrous work, the storm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn of the Christmas day. Everything was bright and sparkling and beautiful. And most beautiful w

cried the vine, "for

hear the vine's soft calling, n

vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning and of the comi

"Barbara will not awaken,

rop wept, and the pine-tree

with him, and the forest sang a great hymn unto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been

," said the prince, "aw

her eyes that were divine. And she was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and upon the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels wear. An

ning round about, returned with the little child unto his home,

one knew of the glory of the forest that Christmas mor

the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the humble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch ev

8

AND THE

corner, a moonbeam floated idly on the floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the chimney corner and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam upon

stress Velvetpaw, and there was your grandpa, Master Sniffwhisker,-how grave and dignified they were! Many a night have I seen them dancing upon the

the little mauve mouse. "To-morrow is

forgotten all about it. But, tell me, what i

r have I gnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I worried my mother by running behind the flour-barrel

o laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck twelve inste

e," said the old clock, "you don'

r last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a delicious rind of cheese, and-and-lots of things? I should be very ungrateful if I did not believ

-stocked pantries. Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our ancestors who came from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of the people and the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious indeed. Squeaknibble seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most conspicuous of which was a disposition to sneer at some of the most respected dogmas in mousedom. From her very infancy she doubted, for example,

d bump her head against the top of our domestic hole. The cat that deprived my sister of so large a percentage of her vertebral colophon was the same brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and anon into this room, crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and feigns to be asleep, hoping, forsooth, that some of us, heedless of her hated presence, wi

r that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her awkwardness. My reproaches irritated her; she told me that a clock's duty was to ru

e night-one fatal Christmas eve-our mother had undressed the children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to sleep earlier than usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus would bring each of them something very palatable and nice before morning. Thereupon the little dears whisked their cunning tails, pricked up their beautiful ears, and began telling one another what they hoped Santa Claus would bring. One asked for a slice of Roquefort, another for Neufchatel, another for Sap

stows, so long as it be cheese, disjoined from all traps whatsoever, unmixed with Paris green, and free from glass, strychnine, and other harmful ingredients. As for myself, I shall be satisfied with a cut of nice, fresh Western reserv

I'm going to creep out of this dark hole and have a quiet romp, all by myself, in the moonlight.' Oh, what a vain, foolish, wicked little mouse was Squeaknibble

us himself," sa

fully of Santa Claus, her wicked eyes glowed with joy, her sharp teeth watered, and her bristling fur emitted electric sparks as big as marrowfat peas. Then what did that blood-thirsty monster do but scuttle as fast as she could into Dear-my-Soul's room, leap up into Dear-my-Soul's crib, and

r emotion,-"in the first place, that wretched cat dressed herself up in that pretty little white muff, by which

stand," said

he was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and Dear-my-Soul's pretty little white mu

oll," suggested

ed the little

-Soul?" asked

e little mauve mouse. "Why, she lo

e old clock. "Now I begin

ed out of that miserable disguise. You are to understand that, contrary to her sagacious mother's injunction, and in notorious derision of the mooted coming of S

faintly. "I am so very old, and I ha

savory old cheese, you dear little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was deceived; a sceptic all her life, she was at last befooled by the most palpable and most fatal of frauds. 'How good of you!' said Squeaknibble. 'I didn't believe there was a Santa Claus, and-' but before she could say more she was seized by two sharp, cruel claws that conveyed her crushed body to the murderous mouth of mousedom's most malignant foe. I can dwell no longer upon this harrowing scene. Suffice it to say that ere the morrow's sun rose like a big yellow Herki

id the old clock. "But if you believe

you know. It is very pleasant, I assure you, to frolic in the light of the moon; only I cannot un

n a slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon a dead child's face. I see the fairies at their play, and I hear mothers singing lullabies. Last night I swept across the frozen bosom of a river. A woman's fa

wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and wonderful story. You must know many a

d over again, in every land and in every home; yet I do not

but before you begin, let me strike twelv

duty with somewhat more than usual a

n countries to the north. Hither the snow-king never came; flowers bloomed all the year, and at all times the lambs found pleasant pasturage on the hillsides. The night wind was balmy, and there was a fragrance of cedar in its

th long watching, he had fallen asleep; his crook had slipped from his hand. Upon the hillside, too, slept the shepherd's flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen across their gentle faces and brought them pleasant d

olets. 'You have come in good time. Nestle here

erful things of which

and watched; one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars peeped out; the shepherd nodded and crooned and crooned and nodded, and at last he, too, went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his keeping. Then we called to the old olive-tree yonder, a

s this Mast

plays among the flowers of the hillside. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have crushed and bruised u

I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of whom you speak.' S

not far hence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float

ght not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old olive-tree!' cried the vio

tree. 'A star beams bright over Bethlehem, the ir

r. The other child was he whom they called the little Master; about his slender form clung raiment white as snow, and around his face of heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So beautiful a child I had not seen before, no

' cried Dimas, for he

the little Master. 'Give me t

ger in the night wind, but bent its branches reverently in the presence of the little Master. It seemed as if the wind, too, stayed in its shifti

is so; for that I love thee, Dimas, and that thou shalt walk with me i

heir places in the sky, clustered upon the old olive-tree, and swung hither and thither like colored lanterns. The flowers of the hillside all awakened, and they, too, danced and sang. The angels, coming hither, hung gold and silver and jewels and precious sto

e, Dimas,' said the little Master; 'b

all through that Christmas night did the stars dance and sing; and when it came my time

t all?" asked

n's bosom, sometimes I scampered o'er a battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead child's face. I h

one paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond this cross another was lifted up, and upon it was stretched a human body my light fell not upon. But I heard a voice that somewhere I had heard before,-though

innocence upon the hillside. Long years of sinful life had seared their marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that familiar vo

he stretched forth his neck th

e Master, yet there was in his voice no to

in the dying criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his head fell upon his bosom, and the men about the cross said that

s that he had spoken under the old olive-tree upon the hillside: 'Your eyes behold the

th where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again, there shined a star over Bethlehem, and the angels descended from the sky to earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the bells,-hear them, litt

8

LL'S CHR

er hath been, that continually doth he go about among men, being so dispositioned that it sufficeth him not that men sholde of their own forwardness, and by cause of the guile born in

r fellow kind. Right wroth was ye Divell, therefore, when that he knew this ben ye Chrystmass time. And as rage doth often confirm in ye human harte an evill purpose, so was ye Divell now more diabolically minded to work his unclean will, and full hejeously fell he to roar and lash his ribald legs with his poyson taile. But ye Divell did presently conceive that naught might he accomplish by this means, since that men, affrighted by his roaring and astonied by ye fumes of brimstone and ye sulphur flames issuing from his

. Then, whiles that they journeyed together, began ye Divell to discourse of theologies and hidden mysteries, and of conjurations, and of negromancy and of magick, and of Chaldee, and of astrology, and of chymistry, and of other occult and forbidden sciences, wherein ye Divell and all that ply his damnable arts are mightily learned and practised. Now wit ye well that this frere, being an holy man and a simple, and ha

a sodaine he did cast his doubtings and his misgivings to ye winds, and did fall upon ye Divell and did buffet him full sore, crying, "Thou art ye Divell! Get thee gone!" And ye frere plucked ye cloake from ye Divell and

eness or by righteous dispensation had ye poore become poore, and that, soche being ye will of God, it was an evill and rebellious thing against God to seeke to minister consolation unto these poore peoples. Soche like specious argumentations did ye Divell use to gain his diabolical ends; but by means of a grace whereof none then knew ye source, these men and these women unto whom ye Divell

uman hartes with peace and inclining human hands to ye delectable and blessed employments of charity? Nay, but you shall know that all this very season whereof I speak ye holy Chrystchilde himself did follow ye Divell upon earth, forefending the crewel evills which ye Divell fain wolde do and girding with confidence and love ye else frail natures of men. Soothly it is known of common report among you that when ye Chrystmass season comes upon ye earth there cometh

Divell's offices shall be confined to his domain. Right grievously tormented therefore was ye Divell, in that he had nought of alms to bestow; but when presently he did meet with a beggar childe that besought him charity, ye Divell whipped out a knife and cut off his own taile, which taile ye Divell gave to ye beggar childe, for he had not else to give for a lyttle trinket toy to make merry with. Now wit ye well that this poyson instrume

rity; and all felt that ye Chrystchilde was with them. So it was plaisaunt to do ye Chrystchilde's will, to succor ye needy, to comfort ye afflicted, and t

ye snows of winter lie upon all ye earth, an

e full of swete music, ye angels shall descend to earth with singing, and ye bell

thy protecting care; forefend all envious thoughts and evil deeds; toche thou our hearts with the glory of

8

TAIN AND

stood always here upon his rocky foundation, and the sea rippled and foamed at his feet, while the air danced freely over his

merry songs. But I love the gentle sea, who in sweet humility crouches

r thousand voices sang softly with delight. But the air was fi

ious air. "Enjoy your triumph while you may, O slumber

sent them floating forever through the air in the shape of clouds. So each day the sea receded

ng, my love?" cried t

d the air, mockingly. "She is

more beseechingly than before: "Oh, whither art thou going, my beloved? I

ss love. But the mountain heard her not, for

pered the air. "I al

arms and uttered the wildest lamentations, but the mountain heard her not; and day by day the sea receded farther and farther from the mountain's base. Where she once had spread her fair surface

. Hills, valleys, forests, plains, and other mountains separated them now, but over and beyond them all he could see her fair face lifted pleadingly to

nay, had he been ten thousand times as lofty he could not have seen her, she was so far away. But still, as of old, the m

ck, O my beloved!"

stern horizon for a glimpse of his proud head and honest face. The horizon was dark. Her lover was far beyond; f

e mountain. "She is false, and she has

e day clouds came floating through the sk

ou fill'st me with such a subtile consolation? Thy breath

he loves thee, and she has sent us to bid thee

raged furiously, but all in vain. Ever after that the clouds came each day with love-messages from

rown, honest face turned whither the sea departed; the sea stretching forth her a

r see her when, in the frenzy of her hopeless love, she surges wildly and tosses he

and seams and wrinkles are on his sturdy head and honest face. But he towers majestica

come and go, but

8

N AND TH

merriest. Every morning and evening he perched himself among the berries of the linden-tree, and carolled a song that made the whole forest joyou

very tiny and so very modest that few knew there was such a pretty little creature in the world.

d lingered on the velvet moss where the little flower grew. But when he kissed her p

h wind; "let me bear you as my bride away to my splendid h

t be; no, it cannot be," till at last the so

foolish violet! How silly of her to refuse such a wooer as the south wind,

his clear song; and it seemed as if she blushed and as if she were thrilled with a great emotion as she beheld h

rd the linden-tree, it was amazed at the loveliness of t

grow to a mighty river whose course no human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast

will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs and complaints, the brook crept

as there ever another such piece of folly! Where else is there a flower that would not h

the foliage of the linden-tree where the robin was carolling. The robin did

among the mosses at the foot of the linden; and although the violet's face was turned alwa

is heart. The robin was carolling in the linden, but his song was ended suddenly, and the innocent bird fell

nything, for his life was nearly gone. The violet tried to bind his wound and stay the flow of his heart's blood

eaped earth over all, and made a great lamentation. But when they went away, the violet remained; and after the sun had set, and the greenwood all was dark, the violet bent over the robin's grave and kissed it, and sang to the

nut yonder said the violet was greatly changed; that from being a merry, happy thing, she had grown sad and reticent; she used to hold up her head as proudly as the o

rook and was taking a bridal tour to the seaside watering-places. But the violet still lingered in the greenwood, and kept her vigil at the grave of the robin. She was pale and drooping, but still she watched and sang over the spot where

arkness and frost, the boisterous north w

would not have my fair brother, but she mus

d, and she lay upon the robin's grave. Her gentle face rested close to the little mound, as if, in her

8

TREE AND

o came that way paused to admire his strength and beauty, and all t

raceful tendrils where he stood, she crept about his feet and twined her

you, little vine? Very well, then; play about my feet, and I will keep the storms f

the great ocean in the East, sometimes of the broad prairies in the West, sometimes of the ice-king who lived in the North, and sometimes of the flower-queen who dwelt in the South. Then, too, the moon told a story to the oak-tree every

ear?" the ivy would ask; and then the oak-tree would repeat the

"Cling close to me, and no harm shall befall you! See how strong

y hugged him closely; his brown, rugged breast p

had twined hither and thither about the oak-tree, covering his brown and knotted trunk, shooting forth a bright, delicious foliage and stretching far up among his lower branches. Then the oak-tree's pity grew into a love for the ivy, and the ivy was filled with a grea

he hills," he would say. "The east wind tells me so; the swallows fly low in the ai

ing love, the ivy would cling more closel

le thing he had laughingly called to his feet that spring day, many years before,-the same little ivy he had told about the stars, the clouds, and the birds. And, just as patiently as in those days he had told her of these things, he now repeated other tales the winds whispered to

ine has naught to do but to twine herself about the arr

said nothing of them to the oak-tree, and that night the oak-tree roc

me so; the swallows fly low in the air, and the sky is dark. Clasp me round about with t

nd she clasped her arms most closely

de upon the blast; his horses breathed flames, and his chariot trailed through the air like a serpent of fire. The ash fell before th

oak-tree does not bow to me, he does not

oak-tree, and the brave, strong monarch of the greenwood was

by the storm-king's thunderbol

bly, "my end has come; see,

vy, "and I will bind up your wounds a

iven and broken thing, the ivy concealed the scars upon his shat

to live with thee among the clouds, and to hear the solemn v

d; I love thee better as thou art, for with thy

ne and played at the foot of the majestic oak-tree, towering in the greenwood with no thought of the tiny shoot that crept toward him with her love. And these simple tales pleased the ol

he oak-tree was gra

broken trunk the gentle vine had so entwined her graceful tendrils and spread her fair foliage, that one saw not the havoc

8

ET: A

the others. The father, a venerable, bearded oyster, of august appearance and solemn deportment, was much mortified that one of his family should happen to be so sickly; and he sent for all the doctors in the sea to come and treat her; from which

pressively. "Ahem! somewhat coated, I see. And your pulse is far from normal; no app

iptions. But the father-oyster and the mother-oyster chided her sternly; they said that the medicine would be nice and sweet, and that the littl

ed cuttlefish. The plaster she didn't mind, but the blister and the cod-liver oil were terrible; and when it came to the essence of distilled cuttlefish-well, she just couldn't stand it! In vain her mother reasoned with her, and promised her a new doll and a skipping-rope and a lot

er himself was president of one of the largest banks of Newfoundland. So Dr. Sculpin came with his neat little medicine-box under his arm. And when he had looked at the sick little oyster's tongue, and had taken her temperature, and had felt her pul

o tumblerfuls of water?" he

he brim with pure, clear sea-water. Dr. Sculpin counted three grains of white sand i

o. 2, and in an hour after that, eight drops out of No. 1; the next hour, eight drops out of No. 2; and the next, or fourt

ther, "shall she continue the f

recommend?" inqu

toast," answe

emed to suggest that Dr. Porpoise's

ack, Porpoise, passed out of the books years ago. Give the child

not do her any harm; neither did it cure her: she remained the same sick little oyster,-oh, so sick! This pained her parents very much. They did not know what to do. They took her travelling; they gave her into t

lo! with a monstrous scratchy-te-scratch, the mother-oyster and the father-oyster and hundreds of other oysters were torn from their resting-places and borne aloft in a very jumbled and very frightened condition by the impertinent machine. Then down it came again, and the sick little oyster was among the number of those who were seized by the horrid monster this time. She found herse

picking up the sick little oyster; "it is no

f the men. "Like as not it

for a Blue Point," said the other

rd shore, until she lodged against an old gum boot that lay half buried in the sand. There were no other oysters in sight. Her head ached and she was

attended school every day in the academic shade of the big rocks in the quiet cove about a mile away. He was very gentle and attentive, and every afternoon he brought fresh cool sea-foam for the sick oyster to eat; he told her pretty stories, too,-stories which his grandmother, the venerable codfish, had told him of the sea king, the mermaids, the pixies, the water sprites, and the other fantastically beautif

amily tree; how she had been taken from that forest and moulded into the shape she now bore; how she had graced and served a foot in amphibious capacities, until at last, having seen many things and having travelled much, she had been cast off and hurled into the sea to be the scorn of every crab and the derision of every fish. These stories were all new to the

votion of her friends,-the little oyster remained always a sick and fragile

her in a chair. This was very sad; yet Margaret was so gentle and uncomplaining that from aught she said you never would have thought her life was full of suffering. Seeing her helplessness, the sympathetic things of Nature had compassion and were very good to Margaret. The sunbeams stole across her pathway everywhere, the grass clustered thick

speeding gulls, of the grass, of the flowers, and of the other beautiful things of life; and so in time the children came to love Margaret. Among those who so often gathered to hear the gentle sick girl tell her pretty stories was a youth of Margaret's age,-older than the others, a youth with sturdy frame and a face full of candor and earnestness. His name was Edward, and he was a student in the city; he hoped to become a great scholar sometime, and he toiled v

p upon the beach each pleasant day. Now the old gum boot had seen e

d gum boot, "yet he comes every day with the child

the little oyster; and then she adde

fell into such hysterical laughter that she sprung a leak near her l

id the old gum boot to the little oyster, "t

and she meant it too, for she was thinking

an it!" continued the old gum

l, the most perfect being in the world; her very words seemed to exalt his nature. Yet he never spoke to her of love. He was content to

tender legends,-songs and poems and legends about the sea, the flowers, the birds, and the other beautiful creations of Nature; and in all there was a sweet simplicity, a delicacy, a reverence, that bespoke

n every home, and in every home her verses and her little stories were repeated. And so it was t

s no cure for her malady. The gallant perch with green fins was very sad, for his wooing had been hopeless. Still he was devoted, and still he came eac

less, many of the boys scampered into the water and stood there, with their trousers rolled up, boldly daring the little wav

out of the water and holding it on high. "And he

oyster. They tore the pale, knotted little thing from her foster-mother, and handled her with such rough curiosity that even had she been a robust oyster she must certainl

t she had not long to live, she sent for Edward. And Edward, when he came to her

have sung and all the words I have spoken and all the prayers I have m

"you have been my best and sweetest inspiration; you

there been a wondrous strength, and from my

and gentle life seemed to come down and rest upon her face; and the songs she had sung and the be

ame that day. He could hear them singing the songs Mar

holding a tiny shell in his hand,-"see what we have fo

misshapen thing and lo! i

eautiful than human knowledge teaches; let me see in your dear, patient little face and hear in your gentle voice the untold valor of your suffering life. Co

8

PRING

mean when they talk to the old oak-tree about death? I hear them t

,-what right had they to put such notions into a child's head? But the child did not do his gr

imperious beauty now, and will not listen to my suit; but wait till my boisterous brother comes from the North,-then yo

t it, and the daisy called in the violet, and the three little ones had a very serious conference; but, having ta

much puzzled about somethi

ould die," exclaimed the vine, "and we do not unders

k-tree smi

old oak-tree; "I call it sleep,-a

the daisy, looking very ful

he dew and sunshine and eaten so much of the goodness of the earth that we feel very weary and we long for repose. Then a great wind comes out of the no

he pleasant grass and singing bees and frolicsome butterflies? No, old oak-tree, I would never go to sl

would be dreadful to go to sleep. Wh

others dumb with terror,

u are sure to awaken again, and when you have awakened

houldn't believe a word of it. When you go to sleep

e heresy so stoutly that the little vine and the daisy and the violet were quit

eep? Would it come upon him, the child? And after he had slept awhile would he awaken?

s to the little vine, the daisy, and the violet. The crickets and the grasshoppers and the bumblebees joined in the sport, and romped and made music till it seemed like an endless carnival. Only every now and then th

-wall scampered the crickets and bumblebees to go to sleep. Whirr, whirr! Oh, but how piercing the great wind was; how di

laimed the thistle; "we're going to

re, take my leaves, little flowers, and you shall sleep warm under them. Then,

weary indeed. The promised

o to sleep if we thought we shou

ose his eyes, but her efforts were vain; she nodded and nodded, and bowed her slender form against the old stone-wall, till finally she, too, had sunk into repose. And then t

his grandsire about them, but his grandsire would not

of snow over him; and the brook that had romped and prattled all the summer and told pretty tales to the grass and flowers, the brook went to sleep too. With all his fierceness and bluster, the storm-king was very kind; he did not awaken the old oak-tree and the slumbering

and wondered whether in the springtime they would awaken from their sleep; and he wished for the springtime to com

cried the sunbeams,-"wake u

sleep, that he leaped from his bed and frolicked all over the meadow and played all sorts of curio

rd. "Have I come all this distance to find

voice awakened th

ied the violet; "how happy this ne

ine, and, last of all, the old oak-tree. The meadow was green, and all aroun

. "I had bad dreams. It was sleep, afte

d through the meadow and plucked and ate the thistle and then stalked gloomily

e vine. "It was not death,-it was only a sleep, a sweet,

om their long sleep to swell the beauty and the glory of the springtime. And they talked with the child, and the child heard them. And although the grandsir

8

AND HI

he child at Rodolph's kne

"What you have heard are old women's tales

all on him; why do the birds sing of the king; and why do the brook

ne these things; there is no king.

" Rodolph could hardly believe his ears. How had the cricket learned to chirp these words? It was beyond all understanding. But still the cricket chirped, and still h

he eaves, and they twittered noisily as Rodolph strode along, "The king, king, king!" "The king

raise,-how beautiful it was! "The king-the king-the king," sang the thrush, and she

pretty heads from the nests. Then the doves nestled hard by and murmured lullabies, and the

things, and they f

odolph; and in great petu

ing grass as he scampered on his way. But Rodolph turned aside and his face grew darker. He did not like the voice of the brook; for, lo!

g; yes, even in their quiet, humble way, the flowers seemed to whisper the king's name

ph. "They all conspire to plague me

plashed on the shore and told stories to the pebbles and the sands. Ro

he ship, and the giant voices of the winds and waves cried of the king, the king! The sailors strove in agony till all seemed lost.

tain waves sank into sleep, and the ship came safely into port. Then the s

cried Rodolph. "It is

re on every tongue; aye, and the things that had no voices seemed to wear the king's name wri

nor trees, nor brooks, nor flowers to prate of a monarch no one has ever seen. There shall there b

e stood upon the pinnacle, what a mighty panorama was spread before him, and what a mighty anthem swelled upon his ears! The peopled plains, with their songs and mur

in Rodolph's bosom then as Rodol

voice. "The king lives, an

of thunder, as the tempest had proclaimed him, nor in the singing voices of the birds and bro

him! Henceforth my voice shall swell the songs of all

lms, and the brook, too, all singing of the king; and Rodolph's heart was gladdened by their music. And all the earth and the things of the earth seemed

tle one. "Together let us sing to him, for he is our

8

MPSHIR

hum of bees, the song of birds, the smell of clover, and the merry music of the crickets. Their little dog Fido chased them through the high, waving grass, and rolled with them under the trees, and barked himself hoarse in his attempt to keep pace with their laughter. Wearied at length, they lay beneath the bellflower-tree and loo

be a little boy so long and to have no companions but little boys and girls, to see nothing but these sam

be a man like my gran'pa or my father or my uncles. With nothing to look at but those distant hills and the riv

his home and had no thought of any other pleasure than romping through the orchard

y: "Stay with me while you may, little boys; trample me with your merry feet; let me feel the imprint of your curly h

ng me: you are children, and you know nothing of the world beyond those distant hills. It is full of trouble and care and sorrow; abide here in this quiet spot till you

u will go out into the world and leave us and never think of us again till it is

the big bumblebee that lived in the hole under the pasture gate, and the butterfly and the wild rose pleaded with them, each in his own way

-tree,-yes, just where he had romped with the two little boys that August afternoon Fido lay sleeping amid the humming of the bees and the perfume of the clover. But Seth and Abner did not think of Fido now, nor did they give

tified. They went beyond the hills and came into the West. How great and busy was the world,-how great and busy it was here in the West! What a rush and noise and turmoil and seething and surging, and how keenly did the brothers have to watch and struggle for vantage ground. Withal, they prospered; the counsel of

They lived in splendid mansions,

senger stood in Seth's pr

have you over me that the very sight of you chi

at he was Death. Seth made no outcry; he knew what the s

d there was a strange look in his eyes and a flush upon

ner, and he threw himself abo

ere by my bedside and talk with me," said he

ence he listened, and as he listened, a s

us talk of our childhood now, for, after all the battle with this great worl

ar brother,

ly. "It was so very long ago, and yet it seems only yesterday. We were

emembering it all, as

ad played, and how weary we were, and how cool the grass was, and how

we lay among the clover and looked off at the

d bellflower-tree seemed to stretch her kind arms down to us a

ered to us, and the cricket in the raspberry-

oo, carolled

breeze blew up from the river; how like a silver lake the old pickerel pond sweltered under the su

ower-tree. And Seth's voice grew fainter, and his eyes were, oh! so dim; but to the very last he spoke of the dear old days and the orchard and the clover and

and busy city; but, looking upon Seth's dear, dead face, Abner could hear only the music voices of birds and cricket

8

ANKSGIVIN

the open fire that snapped cinders all over the hearthstone and sent its red forks dancing up the chimney to join the winds that frolicked and gambolled across the Kansas prairies that raw November night. It had rained hard all day, an

ick of it, powerful sick of it. What a miser'ble Thanksgivin' this has been! They don't know what Thanksgivin' is out t

w a strange sight in the fireplace,-yes, right among the embers and the crackling fla

Yet he did not take his eyes away, for the pic

ut now it comes back to me as nat'ral-like as an ol' friend. An' I seem to be

pon his hand, and his eyes were fixe

Dickerson boys an' Hiram Peabody, an' we've got to hyper! Brother Amos gets on about half o' my clo'es, and I get on 'bout half o' his, but it's all the same; they are stout, warm clo'es, and they're big enough to fit any of us boys,-Mother looked out for that when she made 'em. When we go downstairs we find the girls there, all bundled up nice an' warm,-Mary an' Helen an' Cousin Irene. They're goin' with us, an' we all start out tiptoe and quiet-like so's not to wake up the ol' folks. The ground is frozen hard; we stub our toes on the frozen ruts in the road. When we come to th

ck I get my own skates strapped on,-none o' your new-fangled skates with springs an' plates an' clamps an' such, but honest, ol'-fashioned wooden ones with steel runners that curl up over my toes an' have a bright brass button on the end! How I strap 'em and lash 'em and buckle 'em on! An' Laura waits for me an' tells me to be sure to get 'em on tight enough,-why, bless me! after I once got 'em strapped on, if them skates hed come off, the feet wud ha' come with 'em! An' now away we go,-Laura an' me. Around the bend-near the medder where Si Barker's dog killed a woodchuck last summer-we meet the rest. We forget all about the cold. We run races an' play snap the whip, an'

e all fly round! Mother sends Helen up into the attic to get a squash while Mary's makin' the pie-crust. Amos an' I crack the walnuts,-they call 'em hickory nuts out in this pesky country of sagebrush and pasture land. The walnuts are hard, and it's all we can do to crack 'em. Ev'ry once 'n a while one on 'em slips outer our fingers an' goes dancin' over the floor or flies into the pan Helen is squeezin' pumpkin into through the col'nder. Helen says we're shif'less an' good for nothin' but frivolin'; but Mother tells us how to crack the walnuts so 's not to let 'em fly all over the room, an' so 's not to be all jammed to

ke me an' Amos, an' useter climb over them hills an' kill rattlesnakes an' hunt partridges. Or doesn't his eyes quite reach the Holyoke hills? Do they fall kind o' lovingly but sadly on the little buryin' ground jest beyond the village? Ah, Father knows that spot, an' he loves it, too, for there are treasures there whose memory he wouldn't swap

walk up the aisle slow, and Mother goes in first; then comes Mary, then me, then Helen, then Amos, and then Father. Father thinks it is jest as well to have one o' the girls set in between me an' Amos. The meetin'-house is full, for everybody goes to meetin' Thanksgivin' day. The minister reads the proclamation an' makes a prayer, an' then he gives out

boys wonder how anybody can remember so much of the Bible. Then I get nervous and worried. Seems to me the minister was never comin' to lastly, and I find myself wonderin' whether Laura is listenin' to what the prea

n the choir, I am glad to see that Laura is singin' outer the book with Miss Hubbard, the alto. An' goi

ackard's store an' brought along jest to keep tally on! It is a great game of ball; the bats are broad and light, and the ball is small and soft. But the Enfield boys beat us at last; leastwise they make 70 tallies to our 58, when Heman Fitts knocks the ball over into Aunt Dorcas Eastman's yard, and A

mashed potato, turnip, an' squash, and the celery is very white and cold, the biscuits are light an' hot, and the stewed cranberries are red as Laura's cheeks. Amos and I get the drumsticks; Mary wants the wish-bone to put over the door for Hiram, but Helen gets it. Poor Mary, she always did have to give up to 'rushin' Helen,' as we call her. The pies,-oh, what pies mother makes; no dyspeps

rried to a Palmer lady nex' spring, an' I think to myself I never heard better singin' than Sam's. Then we play games,-proverbs, buzz, clap-in-clap-out, copenhagen, fox-an'-geese, button-button-who's-got-the-button, spin-the-platter, go-to-Jerusalem, my-ship's-come-in, and all the rest. The ol' folks play with the young folks just as nat'ral as can be; and we all laugh when Deacon Hosea Cowles hez to measure six yards of love ribbon with Miss Hepsy Newton, and cut each yard with a kiss; for the deacon hez been sort o' purrin' round Miss Hepsy for goin' on two years. Then, aft'r a while, when Mary an' Helen bring in the cookies, nutcakes, cider, an

lin' makes me as strong as one of Father's steers. 'What kind of apples do you like best, Ezry?' asks Laura,-'russets or greenin's or crow-eggs or bellflowers or Baldwins or pippins?' 'I like the Baldwins best,' says I, ''coz they've got red cheeks just like yours.' 'Why, Ezry Thompson! how you talk!' says Laura. 'You oughter be ashamed of yourself!' But when I get the dish filled up with apples there aint a Baldwin in all the lot that can compare with the bright red of Laura's cheeks. An' Laura knows it, too, an'

with her gentleness an' clingin' love. Hers is th

piration,-mother. Dream on in the far-away firelight; and as the angel hand of memory unfolds these

8

AND E

master was very rich, and having no child but Eloise, he was anxious that she should be well married and settled in life. "For," said he, "death is

none loved her so much as did Herman and Ludwig. Nor did Eloise care for any but Herman and Ludwig, and she loved Herman. The

eral. So when the brave young captain led Eloise to the altar there was great rejoicing in the village. The beaux, forgetting their disappointments, and the maidens, seeing the cause

it was so very long ago; but now he knew his heart was consumed by a hopeless passion. Once, at a village festival, he had begun to speak to her of his love; but Eloise had placed her hand kindly upon his lips and told him to say no fu

d a message from a rich relative in a distant part of the kingdom bidding hi

were they that they were beloved by all. Meanwhile Herman had risen to greatness in the army, for by his valorous exploits he had become a general, and he was

Ludwig. No one thought of him. Ludwig w

r he lived alone and would never speak of himself; but his music was so tender and beautiful that it was called heart-music, and he himself was called the Master. He was old and bowed with infirmities, but

: "No, I am old and feeble. To leave my home would weary me unto death. Let me die he

ome or not come, as he willed. Such honor had never before been shown any subject in the kingdom, and all the pe

was a great lamentation in the land, for Herman was beloved b

iolin. His kindly face was deeply wrinkled, and a venerable beard swept down upon his breast. He was weary and footsore, but he heeded not the words of pit

ter; perchance his music wil

hold! he was the Master,-ay, the Master whose fame wa

" said Eloise, "let thy music b

t thee in thy sorrow, and thy heart shall b

rose such harmonies as Eloise had never heard before. Gently, persuasively

e I hear, and it speaks to me of love. With thy heart-music, O

h tender word and caress of Herman's life was stealing back

rings! But tell me, Master, what means this minor chord,-this undertone of sadness and of pathos that flows like a deep, unfathomabl

lorious. An undertone of pathos has been my part in all these years to symmetrize the love of Herman and Eloise. The

art Ludwig, who didst love me, and hast

him homage he heard them not, for with that last and sweete

8

LITTLE

into the next house were as cross and unfeeling as the people who had just moved out. He hoped they were not, for the people who

and their baskets are all ample and generous,-and see, there goes a bright gilt cage, and there is a plump ye

ys ago that she longed for a canary bird, just to amuse her little ones and give them correct musical ears. Honest old Fido! There was no guile in his heart, and

of the old hollow maple over the way. This was the red-headed woodpecker, who had a warm, cosey nest far down in the

cker from her high perch. "You are out bright and earl

th them. But I have been watching them closely, and by to-day noon I think I shall be on speaking t

the red-headed woodpecker; and then she added, with much determina

little boys. I have always found them the plea

climb trees and break up the nests we have worked so hard to bu

s' eggs," said Fido, "and I'm sure

linden over yonder, where, she had heard the thrush say, there lived a family of fat white grubs. The red-headed wood

d woodpecker had said, and he wondered whether it could be possible for little boys to be so cruel as to rob birds' nests. As he

e voice. "Tum here, 'ittle goggie

that the calling stranger was a little boy not more than three years old, wearing a pretty dress, and a broad hat that crowned his yellow hair and shaded his big blue eyes and dimpled face. The sight was a pleasing one, and Fido v

nd, as if to encourage Fido, the little boy stretched his

tures of his hospitable tail, trotted down the steps and over t

nger, patting Fido's honest brown

oo,-yes, all at once he loved the little boy; and he licked the dimpled hands, and gave three short, quick

grass, and Fido put his forepaws in the little boy's lap and cocked up his ears and looked up int

little boy; "me wan' to

ave the little boy kiss him, for it reminded him of another little boy who used to ki

his blue eyes to their utmost capacity and looking very pi

headed woodpecker, clinging to the bark on the hickory-tree, laughed at their merry antics till her sides ached and her beautiful head turned fairly livid. Then,

" so loudly, that Fido heard him in the wood-shed, where he was holding a morning chat with Mrs. Tabby. Fido hastened to ans

ittle goggie," said the lit

ne moments. And the little boy's guileless impeachment set Fido to feeling creepy-crawly all of a sudden, and without any further ado Fido turned deftly in his tracks, twisted his head back toward his tail, and by means of sev

me and perched in the pear-tree and sang a little song about the dear little eggs in her cunning home. And there was a flower in the fence-corner,-a sweet, modest flower that no human eyes but the little boy's had ever seen,-and she sang a little song, too, a song about the kind old mother earth and the pretty sunbeams, the gentle rain and the droning bees. Why, the little boy had never known anything hal

s home in the cornfield by the brook, and now he resided in a snug hole in the pasture. During their rambles one day, Fido

Mr. Woodchuck," said Fido. "I have t

legged fyste that ever walked. It was only last week that I whipped Deacon Skinner's

n he saw the woodchuck solemnly perched at the

t arms and running toward the woodchuck,-"oh, see,-nuz

the little boy's cordial greeting might mask, the old woodchuck dis

odpecker's eggs in the hollow maple had hatched, and the proud mother had great tales to tell of her baby birds,-of how beautiful and knowing they were, and of what good, noble birds they were going to be when they grew up. The yellow-bird, too, had four fuzzy little babies in her nest in the lilac-bush, and every now and then she came to sing to the little boy and Fido of her darlings. Then, when the little boy and Fid

n had been long gone to the harvest fields, and the heat of the early autumn day had driven the birds to the thickest foliage of the trees. Fido could n

ut no, the flower had not laid eyes on the little boy, and she could only shake her head doubtfully when Fido asked her what it all meant. At last in desperation Fido braced himself for an h

talk with the old woodchuck about this strange thing. Th

little boy?" asked

ited for him and called to him ag

den sound, how each footfall, startled him! How he sat all those days upon the front door-stoop, with his eyes fixed on the fence-corner and his rough bro

rms out. They saw it was the little boy, and, oh! how pale and ill he looked. But his yellow hair was as glorious as ever, and the dimples came back with the smile that lighted his thin little

er; and the yellow-bird came, too, and they all talked of the little boy. And at that very moment the old woodchuck reared hi

and see what the little boy is doing. Sing him one of your pretty songs, and tell h

y had once seen the little boy, and alighting upon the sill, she peered

p," said the

!" crie

for I could see a smile on his face, and his little hands were folded on his bosom. There were

call to him at once. Then perhaps he will hear

o loudly that the still air of that autumn morning was strangely startled, and

alled, "why are you sleeping? Wh

ces are sealed; the baby voice that sang your playtime songs with you is hushed, and all about him is the fragrance and the beauty of flowers. Call on, O honest fri

8

OLD

apped eyes on. Bein' our fust, we sot our hearts on him, and Lizzie named him Willie, for that wuz the name she liked best, havin' had a brother Willyum killed in the war. But I never called him anything but the Old

at we was goin' to make of him; Lizzie havin' her heart sot on his bein' a preacher like his gran'pa Baker, and I wantin' him to be a lawyer 'nd git rich out'n the corporations, like his uncle Wilson Barlow. So we ne

y Baxter's baby Lizzie sot up day 'nd night till he wuz well, holdin' his hands 'nd singin' songs to him, 'nd cryin' herse'f almost to death because she dassent give him cold water to drink when he called f'r it. As for me, my heart wuz wrapt up

k, when nobody wuz lookin'; oncet I tried to sing him a song, but it made him cry, 'nd I never tried my hand at singin' again. But, somehow, the Old Man didn't take to me like he took to his mother: would climb down outern my lap to git wher

n' the kind of clothes he wears. But the Old Man wuz diff'rent; he allowed that his mother wuz his best

'." Never could find out what the Old Man wanted to tell Lizzie; like 's not he didn't wanter tell her nothin'; may be he wuz lonesome 'nd jest wanted to feel that Lizzie wuz round. But that didn't make no diff'rence; it wuz all the same to Lizzie. No matter where she wuz or what she wuz a-doin', jest as soon as the Old Man told her he wanted to tell her

nly yesterday or the day before that I heern the Old Man callin', "Mudder, mudder, I wanter

sleep. May be you've been through it yourself,-may be you've tended a child that's down with the fever; if so, may be you know what we went through, Lizzie 'nd me. The doctor shook his head one night when he come to see the Old Man; we knew what that meant. I went out-doors,-I couldn't stand it in the room there, with the Old

he day wuz breakin'; the cattle wuz lowin' outside; a beam of light come through the winder and fell on the Old Man's face,-perhaps it wuz the summons for which h

is voice warn't strong 'nd clear like it u

Old Man up 'nd held him in her arms, l

rlin'? Here I b

ld Man,-"tum here; I w

per in her ear. But his arms fell limp and helpless-like, '

8

HE LOKI

Bill had the biggest feet in the township, but I'll bet my wallet that he never trod on a violet in all his life. Bill never took no slack from enny m

hat Bill got more good out'n likker, and likker got more good out'n Bill, than I ever see before or sence. It warn't when the likker wuz in Bill that Bill wuz at his best, but when he hed been on to one uv his bats 'nd had drunk himself sick 'nd wuz comin' out uv the other end of the bat, then Bill wuz one uv the meekest 'nd properest critters you ever seen. An' potry? Some uv the most beautiful potry I ever re

ime he got a telegraph,-Mr. Ivins told me 'bout it afterwards,-and when he read it he put his hands up to his face 'nd groaned, like. That day he got full uv likker 'nd he kep' full of likker for a week; but when he come round all

cud be mighty comical when he sot out to be, but his best holt was serious pieces. Nobody could beat Bill writin' obituaries. When

"but to be frank with you, I hev jest on

t?" asked t

asure uv readin' what Bill Newton sez about me in the paper. I know it'll

t pome without cryin',-why, that pome wud hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary. Old Tim Hubbard, the meanest man in the State, borrered a paper to read the pome, and he wuz so 'fected by it that he never borrered anuther paper as lo

emed like Bill had a way of his own of sayin' things that wuz beautiful 'nd tender; he said he loved the chil

powerful dark, 'nd it wuz all the darker to me, because seemed like all the light hed gone out

z he, "whar be you goi

goin' on the saddest

he, comin' up to me

ittle girl-my little girl-

e many words of comfort to mine. And nex' day he had a piece in the paper about our little girl; we cut it out and put it in the big Bible in the front room. Sometimes whe

you knew it you wuz all choked up. I know all about your fashionable potry and your famous potes,-Martha took Godey's for a year. Folks that live in the city can't write potry,-not the real, genuine article. To write potry, as I figure it, t

poor, sorrowful, shiverin' critter waitin' for his turn to come. Pictur', if you can, how full uv penitence he is, 'nd how full uv potry 'nd gentleness 'nd misery. The Lord aint a-goin' to be too hard on that poor wretch. Of course we can't comprehend Divine mercy; we only know that it is full of compassion,-a compassion infini

spread 'em all around it 'nd over it, coverin' its scars 'nd splintered branches with a velvet g

', 'nd unworthy thing, perhaps, but twined about, all over, with singin'

uld I-say, if we wuz s

r eyes 'nd say: "Mister recordin' angel, you may

8

TLE YAL

a kind uv luxury, 'nd the best kind, too. Maybe it's because I haint hed much to do with 'em that I'm sot on 'em. Never did get real well acquainted with more 'n three or four uv 'em in all my life; seemed like it wuz meant that I shouldn't hev 'em round me as most men hev. Mother died when I wuz a little tyke, an' Ant Mary raised me till I wuz big enuff to make m

new thing to me. I hed been prutty posperous,-hed got past hevin' to ride in a caboose 'nd git out at every stop to punch up the steers. Hed money in the Hoost'n bank 'nd use to go to Tchicargo oncet a ye

big, fat baby,-the pruttiest woman I hed seen in a month uv Sundays; and the baby! why, doggone my skin, when I wuzn't payin' money to the nigger, darned if I didn't set there watchin' the big, fat little cuss, like he wuz the only baby I ever seen. I aint much of a hand at babies, 'cause I haint seen many uv 'em, 'nd when it comes to handlin' 'em-why, that would break me all up, 'nd like 's not 't would break the baby all up too. But it has a

igger, "come hyar 'nd bresh me off a

And there the little tyke set in its mother's lap, doublin' up its fists 'nd tryin' to swaller 'em, 'nd talkin' like to its mother in a lingo I couldn't understan', but which the mother

cenery 'nd things. A man's in mighty poor bizness, anyhow, to be lo

little critter wuz hungry. Knowin' that there wuzn't no eatin'-house this side uv Bowieville, I

ges 'nd bana

our best oranges 'nd a dozen uv your best bananas '

s 'nd hed spread a shawl over its head 'nd over her shoulder, 'nd all u

there wuz a dead body in the box, 'nd I couldn't help feelin' sorry for the poor creetur that hed died in that lonely place uv York Crossin'; but I mought

on, and he wuz lookin' powerful tough. Bill herded cattle for me three winters, but

air you totin' so kind uv kee

ys he; 'nd as he said it the

baby, Bill

d she died, 'nd I'm takin' her body up to Texarkany to bury. She lived t

t the men were carryin' in tha

ike. "Perfect pictur' uv its mother; kind uv fa

wuz a sickly, yaller-lookin' little thing, for so it wuz; looked haff-starved, too.

ten-dollar note for the

off with that yaller little baby in his arms. It warn't very fur up

in' through the car like he wuz huntin' for somebody. Se

est uv us could hear. The lady kind uv started like she wuz frightened, 'nd then she looked up at Bill 'nd looked him right square in the countenance. She saw a tall, ganglin', awkward man, with long yaller hair 'nd frowzy beard, 'nd she saw that he wuz tremblin' 'nd hed tears in his eyes.

ere wuz its mother dead in the car up ahead 'nd its gran'ma a good piece up the road. What did the lady over the way do but lay her own sleepin' baby down on the seat beside her 'nd take Bill's little yaller baby 'nd hold it on one arm 'nd cover up its head 'nd her shoulder with a s

mother holdin' it,-not its own mother, but a woman whose life hed been hallowed

! It jest made me know that what I'd allus thought uv wimmin was gospel truth. God bless that lady! I say, wherever

speak very loud for fear he'd wake it up. But his heart wuz way up in his mouth when he says "God bless ye!" to that dear lady; 'nd then

8

YCLOP

now jest about ez much about the case ez anybody else now on airth, exceptin' perhaps it's

ledge, 'nd havin' got the recommend of the minister 'nd uv the select men, he done an all-fired big business in our part uv the county. His name wuz Lemuel Higgins, 'nd he wuz ez lik

had moved into the old homestead on the Plainville road,-old Deacon Hobart havin' give up the place to him, the other boys havin' moved

I've half a notion to subscribe f'r a cyclopeedy. Mr. Higgins here says they're invalerable i

z Hattie, blushin' all over, ez brides a

often, which wuz to be ez often ez a new one uv the volyumes wuz printed. A cyclopeedy isn't printed all at oncet,because that would make it cost too much; consekently the man that gets it up has it strung a

t Leander 'nd Hattie, and they got to talkin' about apples, 'nd the sort uv apples that wuz the best. Leander allowed that the Rhode Island greenin' wuz the best, but Hattie and the Turner boy

Roxbury russets nor Rhode Island gre

know?" sez Leander,

R yet," sez Hattie. "All ours tells

r. "You aggervate me terrible, Hattie, by insist

cyclopeedy 'nd hunted all through it f'r Apples

z Leander, "when there aint no Pomology

ck onto the shelf 'nd nev

argain, but he couldn't; he had signed a printed paper 'nd had swore to it afore a just

Leander wuz hard up or had jest been afflicted some way or other. His barn burnt down two nights afore the volyume containin' the lett

in' like, "it's a good book to have in the

der, "babies does beg

,-after Hattie's folks. So, seein' as how it wuz payin' f'r a book that told

cyclopeedy aint no account. There aint nothi

and he couldn't do nothin' at all, f'r that book agent, Lemuel

use cussin' Higgins; Higgins just laffed when Leander allowed that the cyclopeedy wuz no good 'nd that he wuz bein' robbed. Meantime Leander's family wuz increasin' and growin'. Little Sarey had the hoopin' cough

clopeedy to find out about it, but all he diskivered wuz: "Drain-See

laid her dyin' to that cussid cyclopeedy, 'cause when he

squirtin' tobacco juice at the sawdust box. His wife, Hattie, passed away with the yaller janders the winter W come, and all that seemed to reconcile Leander to survivin' her wuz the prospect uv seein' the last volyume uv that cyclopeedy. Lemuel Higgins, the book agent, had gone to his everlastin' punishment; but his son, Hiram, had succeeded to his father's business 'nd continued to visit the folks his old man had roped in. By this time Leander's children had growed up; all on 'em wuz marr'd, and there wuz numeris grand

got over it. For the next three years he drooped 'nd pined, and seemed like he couldn't hold out much longer. Finally he had to take to his

ock Wilson, 'nd Jedge Baker, 'nd most uv the fam'ly. Lovin' hands smoothed the wrinkled forehead 'nd breshed back the long,

k come into them eyes, 'nd ol' Leand

" asked his daughter

lemnly; "he sees the shinin'

an; "it is the cyclopeedy-

Higgins. He tottered rather than walked, f'r he h

lopeedy, Mr. Hoba

som; then stealin' one pale hand under the piller h

z Leander, rollin' his eyes up d

excitedly, "you've made a

led from its mortal tenement 'nd hed soare

sez Dock Wilson

eirs?" asked that m

sez the

cknowledge and assume the obligati

" asked Peasley H

n' me f'r a cyclop

easley. "We all seen

other one to co

?" they

e index!

durned if he aint a-suin' the estate in t

8

STE

' 'nd kep' it up all his life. Ol' Mrs. Stebbins used to tell how when the Dock wuz a baby he use to wake her up haff a dozen times un a nigh

mblin'; said it warn't his fault that he wuz so full uv tricks 'nd funny business; kind uv took the res

the quiet now 'nd then, but nobody had ever ketched her at it. Wall, the Dock he had one uv his fits jest as Sue hove in sight, 'nd Lem Thompson (who stood in with Dock in all his deviltry) leant over Dock while he wuz wallerin' 'nd pertending to foam at the mouth, and Lem cried out: "Nothink will fetch him o

kin' he'd say: "Excuse me, but will you please to gimme a light?" Then the man wud hand over his cigar, and Dock wud plough that wood stub uv his'n around in the lighted cigar and would pertend to puff away till he had put the real cigar out, 'nd then Dock wud hand the cigar back, sayin', kind uv

two wimmin 'nd set in the seat ahead uv 'em. All uv a suddint Dock nudged Lem and sez, jest loud enuff fur the

knew there wuz sumthin' ahead. So

ter as ever you seen. Wall, all to oncet the mother heerd the baby cryin', but bein' busy with them clo'es she didn't mind much. The baby kep' cryin' 'nd cryin', 'nd at last the mother come back into the house, 'nd there she found a bi

elinks uv the mother

z Dock. "How'd you like to be lyin' helples

'nd all the way to Peory they didn't talk about nuthink but snakes 'nd spiders 'nd mice 'nd caterpillers. When the train got to Peory a gentleman met the two wimmin 'nd sez to one uv 'em: "I'm f

earrings while out walkin'. Jest as soon as the wimmin heerd this they'd clap their han's up to their ears to see if their earrin

lookin' at the picturs 'nd readin' the verses 'nd laffin' like it wuz all new to him 'nd like he wuz a child. Everybody sized him up for a ejeot, 'nd the wimmin folks shook their heads 'nd said it wuz orful fur so fine a lookin' feller to be such a tom fool. '

I reckon that wuz one uv his jokes. He didn't have much uv a practice: he wuz too yumorous to suit most invalids 'nd sick folks. We had him tend our boy Sam j

minister the pil

d his mouth open 'nd gag him till he swallers the pill. After the pill gits into h

power cud ha' got that pill into Sam. We neve

About four miles out uv town 'nd right in the middle uv the hot peraroor they met Moses Baker's

oin' with them

to sell 'em,"

dozen?" as

ts, I reckon,"

he Dock; 'nd he handed the lines ov

ev you got?

en," say

There haint no ten doze

ys the boy, "fur I

em eggs out'n the basket one by one into the boy's arms. Ten dozen eggs is a heap; you kin imagine, maybe, how that boy looked with his arms full uv eggs! When the Dock had got about nine dozen counted out he

hot-peraroor with his arms full uv eggs. What wuz there fur him to do? He wuz afraid to move, lest he should b

ver. The minister went up to the homestead 'nd broke the news gentle like to Dock's mother; but, bless you! she didn't believe it-she wouldn't believe it. She said it wuz one uv Dock's jokes; she didn't blame him, nuther-it wuz her fault, she allowed, that Dock wuz allus that way about makin' fun uv life 'nd death. No, sir; she never believed that

this life into the mornin' uv the next. Jest afore the last she kind uv raised up in bed and cried out like she saw sumthin' that she loved, and she held out her arms like there wuz so

w nuthin'; 'nd when they

8

IES OF P

it took away all his joy and all his ambition. It was because he brooded over his sorrow, and because he was always faithful to a memory, that the townspeople deemed him a strange old poet; bu

in its melancholy refrain in the marsh beyond the meadow. The brook ran slowly, and its voice was

grass under the lindens was fresh and velvety. The air was full of fragrance, for here amid the grass grew vio

old Leeza, the witchwife; an

itchwife. "You have always been good to me. I

ld poet. "You mean more than you say. Do not

here under the lindens, and when the moon rises, the Seven Crickets will chirp thrice; then the Ra

elled at her words. He had heard the townspeople say that old Leeza was f

will tarry here beneath the three lindens and see

in the town away off; they twinkled like the stars that studded the sky. The whip-poor-will told his story over and over

" said the old poet.

gain. There could be no doubt; the world was fast asleep,-at least so thought the dear old moon. So she stepped

s music. When they saw the moon in the sky they sang "chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp

old witchwife had foretold. "Whir-r-r" went the two black wings, and then it seemed as if the R

rs, and the grass trooped a legion of fairies,-yes, right there before the old poet's e

ite as comely figure as you could expect to find even among real folk. They were quaintly dressed; the ladies wearing quilted silk gowns and broad-brim ha

med," thought the old poet. But he was not frightened. He had

e passed through the midst of them from her home in the bunch of red clover. Four dainty pages preceded her, carrying a silver web which had been spun by a black-and-yellow garden s

land of mu

olk are

d the dew

nce where'e

icket's t

ere and cir

ought and f

m cry, '

ound the

ossom, S

w, and Gan

airy fa

the sward

ock on yon

faery lust

nce, my lit

ing 'Oho' t

ng. But now they came scampering up,-Ganderfeather behind the othe

little folk, you shall dance to your heart's content. Dance y

tch your revels unbeknown to you. But I meant you no disrespect,-indeed, I

little fairy queen, "and this night shall give

e meaning; but we, who live these many years after

and he was arrayed in a wonderful suit of damask web, at the manufacture of which seventy-seven silkworms had labored for seventy-seven days, receiving in payment therefor as many mulberry leaves as seven blue beetles could carry and stow in seve

light, for a thousand and ten glowworms came from the marsh and hung their beautiful lamps over the spot where the lit

e dance was the ring-round-a-rosy which many children nowadays dance.

h that I had my violin here, for th

r own," she said, "and it is much more beauti

being provided with partners, these little people took their places for a waltz. The fairy queen and the elf prince were the only ones that did not da

the hoptoad, for he was an exceedingly methodical f

irp-chirp, chirp-chirp," three times, and away flew that host of l

ith the fairy waltz. The plumes in the hats of the cunning little ladies nodded hither and thither, and the tiny swords of the cunning little gentlemen bobbed this way and that as the throng of dancers swept now here, now there. With one tiny foot, upon which she wore a lovely shoe made

e hedge are still, the birds sleep in their nests, the brook dreams of the mountain home it stole away from yester m

isy and buttercup,-every modest wild-flower (no matter how hidden) gives glad response to the tinkle of fairy feet. Dancing daintily over this

music stole into his heart and soothed the wound there. The fai

a piping voice. "Please, dear

e hunchback fairy who, with wistful eyes, had bee

derly; "thy little limbs are weak. Come, sit thou at my feet,

and danced alone in the moonlight,-alone with my shadow. The violets are thickest there. 'Let thy halting feet fall upon us, Little Sorrowful,' they whispered, 'and we shall make music f

Sorrowful," said the elf pri

ou. My crutch is stout, and it has danced with me before. You will say tha

y; she loved the little hu

said the queen. The littl

he tapped her crutch and swung one little shrunken f

tenderer cadence, for (I know not why) the little hunchback danced ever on the violets, and their responses were full of the music of tears. There was a strange pathos in the little creature's grace; she did not weary of the dance: her cheeks

pale face, the weary eyes, and the tired little body that slept forever now. He thought of the voice that had tried to be cheerful for

ve?" he wailed. "Is it thy

is eyes, and his hea

the little hunchback danced always on the violets, and through the other music there coul

ed and the little folk could be seen no more. The birds came from their nests, the brook began to

of Pesth, saw the fairies dance and heard the fairy music,-so many years have passed since then, that had

little folk will illustrate in their revels, through which a tone of sadness steals, the comedy and pathos of our lives? Perhaps no one shall see, perhaps no one else ever did see,

have read this true story and heard

8

E

TNO

rranged by Mr.

riber'

dness' changed

her' change