353




AL 3525.10
* A
HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY








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1


FRANK R. STOCKTON
VOLUME XVII
STORIES
III


|
1






DAY


THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF
FRANK R. STOCKTON
STORIES
III
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1900
.butz zid mi notdot2 .M
.dgorgofodd MOTT



Mr. Stockton in his study.
From a photograph.


THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF
FRANK R. STOCKTON
STORIES
III

FR
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1900


ALSOACTIO
* A
HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
PUTNAM MEMORIAL
Juc 25,1730
Copyright, 1887, 1888, 1892, 1893, 1897, 1900,
by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
THE DE VINNE PRESS.
1


Смо
L
THE GRIFFIN AND THE MINOR
-
CANON
CONTENTS
·
OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
✔ THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR, THE
FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM
PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
THE BANISHED KING
•
EXPERIENCES
✔ THE PHILOPENA
✔AMOS KILBRIGHT: HIS ADSCITITIOUS
·
•
•
•
PAGE
•
3
25
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS 169
51
669
93
117
145
189
203
231


CONTENTS
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
THE BISHOP'S GHOST AND THE
PRINTER'S BABY
THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE
EXISTENCES
PAGE
281
. 311
321
vi


THE GRIFFIN AND THE MINOR
CANON


NO


THE GRIFFIN AND THE MINOR
CANON
VER the great door of an old, old church, which
stood in a quiet town of a far-away land, there
was carved in stone the figure of a large griffin. The
old-time sculptor had done his work with great care,
but the image he had made was not a pleasant one to
look at. It had a large head, with enormous open
mouth and savage teeth. From its back arose great
wings, armed with sharp hooks and prongs. It had
stout legs in front, with projecting claws, but there
were no legs behind, the body running out into a long
and powerful tail, finished off at the end with a barbed
point. This tail was coiled up under him, the end
sticking up just back of his wings.
The sculptor, or the people who had ordered this
stone figure, had evidently been very much pleased
with it, for little copies of it, also in stone, had been
placed here and there along the sides of the church,
not very far from the ground, so that people could
easily look at them and ponder on their curious forms.
There were a great many other sculptures on the out-
side of this church-saints, martyrs, grotesque heads
of men, beasts, and birds, as well as those of other
creatures which cannot be named, because nobody
knows exactly what they were. But none were so
curious and interesting as the great griffin over the
3


THE GRIFFIN AND
door and the little griffins on the sides of the
church.
A long, long distance from the town, in the midst of
dreadful wilds scarcely known to man, there dwelt the
Griffin whose image had been put up over the church
door. In some way or other the old-time sculptor
had seen him, and afterwards, to the best of his mem-
ory, had copied his figure in stone. The Griffin had
never known this until, hundreds of years afterwards,
he heard from a bird, from a wild animal, or in some
manner which it is not easy to find out, that there was
a likeness of him on the old church in the distant town.
Now, this Griffin had no idea whatever how he
looked. He had never seen a mirror, and the streams
where he lived were so turbulent and violent that a
quiet piece of water, which would reflect the image of
anything looking into it, could not be found. Being,
as far as could be ascertained, the very last of his race,
he had never seen another griffin. Therefore it was
that, when he heard of this stone image of himself, he
became very anxious to know what he looked like, and
at last he determined to go to the old church and see
for himself what manner of being he was. So he
started off from the dreadful wilds, and flew on and
on until he came to the countries inhabited by men,
where his appearance in the air created great conster-
nation. But he alighted nowhere, keeping up a steady
flight until he reached the suburbs of the town which
had his image on its church. Here, late in the after-
noon, he alighted in a green meadow by the side of a
brook, and stretched himself on the grass to rest. His
great wings were tired, for he had not made such a
long flight in a century or more.
The news of his coming spread quickly over the
4


THE MINOR CANON
town, and the people, frightened nearly out of their
wits by the arrival of so extraordinary a visitor, fled
into their houses and shut themselves up. The Griffin
called loudly for some one to come to him; but the
more he called, the more afraid the people were to
show themselves. At length he saw two laborers hur-
rying to their homes through the fields, and in a ter-
rible voice he commanded them to stop. Not daring
to disobey, the men stood, trembling.
"What is the matter with you all?" cried the
Griffin. "Is there not a man in your town who is
brave enough to speak to me?"
"I think," said one of the laborers, his voice
shaking so that his words could hardly be under-
stood, "that-perhaps - the Minor Canon - would
come."
"Go, call him, then!" said the Griffin. "I want to
see him."
The Minor Canon, who filled a subordinate position
in the old church, had just finished the afternoon ser-
vice, and was coming out of a side door, with three
aged women who had formed the week-day congrega-
tion. He was a young man of a kind disposition, and
very anxious to do good to the people of the town.
Apart from his duties in the church, where he con-
ducted services every week-day, he visited the sick
and the poor; counselled and assisted persons who were
in trouble, and taught a school composed entirely of
the bad children in the town, with whom nobody else
would have anything to do. Whenever the people
wanted something difficult done for them, they always
went to the Minor Canon. Thus it was that the la-
borer thought of the young priest when he found that
some one must come and speak to the Griffin.
5


THE GRIFFIN AND
The Minor Canon had not heard of the strange
event, which was known to the whole town except
himself and the three old women, and when he was
informed of it, and was told that the Griffin had asked
to see him, he was greatly amazed and frightened.
"Me!" he exclaimed. "He has never heard of me !
What should he want with me?"
"Oh, you must go instantly!" cried the two men.
"He is very angry now because he has been kept wait-
ing so long, and nobody knows what may happen if
you don't hurry to him."
The poor Minor Canon would rather have had his
hand cut off than to go out to meet an angry griffin;
but he felt that it was his duty to go, for it would be a
woeful thing if injury should come to the people of the
town because he was not brave enough to obey the
summons of the Griffin; so, pale and frightened, he
started off.
"Well," said the Griffin, as soon as the young man
came near, "I am glad to see that there is some one
who has the courage to come to me."
The Minor Canon did not feel very courageous, but
he bowed his head.
"Is this the town," said the Griffin, "where there
is a church with a likeness of myself over one of the
doors?"
The Minor Canon looked at the frightful creature
before him, and saw that it was, without doubt, ex-
actly like the stone image on the church. "Yes," he
said, "you are right.”
"Well, then," said the Griffin, "will you take me
to it? I wish very much to see it."
The Minor Canon instantly thought that if the
6


THE MINOR CANON
Griffin entered the town without the people knowing
what he came for, some of them would probably be
frightened to death, and so he sought to gain time to
prepare their minds.
"It is growing dark now," he said, very much
afraid, as he spoke, that his words might enrage the
Griffin, "and objects on the front of the church can-
not be seen clearly. It will be better to wait until
morning, if you wish to get a good view of the stone
image of yourself."
"That will suit me very well," said the Griffin. "I
see you are a man of good sense. I am tired, and I
will take a nap here on this soft grass, while I cool
my tail in the little stream that runs near me. The
end of my tail gets red-hot when I am angry or ex-
cited, and it is quite warm now. So you may go; but
be sure and come early to-morrow morning, and show
me the way to the church.”
The Minor Canon was glad enough to take his leave,
and hurried into the town. In front of the church he
found a great many people assembled to hear his re-
port of his interview with the Griffin. When they
found that he had not come to spread ruin and devas-
tation, but simply to see his stony likeness on the
church, they showed neither relief nor gratification,
but began to upbraid the Minor Canon for consenting
to conduct the creature into the town.
"What could I do?" cried the young man. "If I
should not bring him he would come himself, and per-
haps end by setting fire to the town with his red-hot
tail."
Still the people were not satisfied, and a great many
plans were proposed to prevent the Griffin from com-
7


THE GRIFFIN AND
ing into the town. Some elderly persons urged that
the young men should go out and kill him. But the
young men scoffed at such a ridiculous idea. Then
some one said that it would be a good thing to de-
stroy the stone image, so that the Griffin would have
no excuse for entering the town. This proposal was
received with such favor that many of the people
ran for hammers, chisels, and crowbars with which to
tear down and break up the stone griffin. But the
Minor Canon resisted this plan with all the strength
of his mind and body. He assured the people that
this action would enrage the Griffin beyond measure,
for it would be impossible to conceal from him that
his image had been destroyed during the night.
But they were so determined to break up the stone
griffin that the Minor Canon saw that there was noth-
ing for him to do but to stay there and protect it.
All night he walked up and down in front of the
church door, keeping away the men who brought
ladders by which they might mount to the great
stone griffin and knock it to pieces with their ham-
mers and crowbars. After many hours the people
were obliged to give up their attempts, and went
home to sleep. But the Minor Canon remained at his
post till early morning, and then he hurried away to
the field where he had left the Griffin.
The monster had just awakened, and rising to his
fore legs and shaking himself, he said that he was
ready to go into the town. The Minor Canon, there-
fore, walked back, the Griffin flying slowly through
the air at a short distance above the head of his guide.
Not a person was to be seen in the streets, and they
8


THE MINOR CANON
proceeded directly to the front of the church, where
the Minor Canon pointed out the stone griffin.
The real Griffin settled down in the little square
before the church and gazed earnestly at his sculptured
likeness. For a long time he looked at it. First he
put his head on one side, and then he put it on the
other. Then he shut his right eye and gazed with his
left, after which he shut his left eye and gazed with
his right. Then he moved a little to one side and
looked at the image, then he moved the other way.
After a while he said to the Minor Canon, who had
been standing by all this time:
"It is, it must be, an excellent likeness! That
breadth between the eyes, that expansive forehead,
those massive jaws! I feel that it must resemble me.
If there is any fault to find with it, it is that the neck
seems a little stiff. But that is nothing. It is an
admirable likeness-admirable!"
The Griffin sat looking at his image all the morning
and all the afternoon. The Minor Canon had been
afraid to go away and leave him, and had hoped all
through the day that he would soon be satisfied with
his inspection and fly away home. But by evening
the poor young man was utterly exhausted, and felt
that he must eat and sleep. He frankly admitted this
fact to the Griffin, and asked him if he would not like
something to eat. He said this because he felt obliged
in politeness to do so; but as soon as he had spoken
the words, he was seized with dread lest the monster
should demand half a dozen babies, or some tempting
repast of that kind.
"Oh, no," said the Griffin, "I never eat between the
9


THE GRIFFIN AND
equinoxes. At the vernal and at the autumnal equi-
nox I take a good meal, and that lasts me for half a
year. I am extremely regular in my habits, and do
not think it healthful to eat at odd times. But if you
need food, go and get it, and I will return to the soft
grass where I slept last night, and take another nap."
The next day the Griffin came again to the little
square before the church, and remained there until
evening, steadfastly regarding the stone griffin over
the door. The Minor Canon came once or twice to
look at him, and the Griffin seemed very glad to see
him. But the young clergyman could not stay as he
had done before, for he had many duties to perform.
Nobody went to the church, but the people came to
the Minor Canon's house, and anxiously asked him
how long the Griffin was going to stay.
"I do not know," he answered, "but I think he will
soon be satisfied with looking at his stone likeness, and
then he will go away."
But the Griffin did not go away. Morning after
morning he went to the church, but after a time he
did not stay there all day. He seemed to have taken
a great fancy to the Minor Canon, and followed him
about as he pursued his various avocations. He
would wait for him at the side door of the church, for
the Minor Canon held services every day, morning
and evening, though nobody came now. "If any one
should come," he said to himself, "I must be found at
my post." When the young man came out, the Griffin
would accompany him in his visits to the sick and the
poor, and would often look into the windows of the
school-house where the Minor Canon was teaching his
unruly scholars. All the other schools were closed,
10


THE MINOR CANON
but the parents of the Minor Canon's scholars forced
them to go to school, because they were so bad they
could not endure them all day at home-griffin or no
griffin. But it must be said they generally behaved
very well when that great monster sat up on his tail
and looked in at the school-room window.
When it was perceived that the Griffin showed no
sign of going away, all the people who were able to
do so, left the town. The canons and the higher offi-
cers of the church had fled away during the first day
of the Griffin's visit, leaving behind only the Minor
Canon and some of the men who opened the doors and
swept the church. All the citizens who could afford
it shut up their houses and travelled to distant parts,
and only the working-people and the poor were left
behind. After some days these ventured to go about
and attend to their business, for if they did not work
they would starve. They were getting a little used to
seeing the Griffin, and having been told that he did
not eat between equinoxes, they did not feel so much
afraid of him as before.
Day by day the Griffin became more and more at-
tached to the Minor Canon. He kept near him a
great part of the time, and often spent the night in
front of the little house where the young clergyman
lived alone. This strange companionship was often
burdensome to the Minor Canon. But, on the other
hand, he could not deny that he derived a great deal
of benefit and instruction from it. The Griffin had
lived for hundreds of years, and had seen much, and
he told the Minor Canon many wonderful things.
"It is like reading an old book," said the young
clergyman to himself. "But how many books I would
11


THE GRIFFIN AND
have had to read before I would have found out what
the Griffin has told me about the earth, the air, the
water, about minerals, and metals, and growing things,
and all the wonders of the world!"
Thus the summer went on, and drew toward its
close.
And now the people of the town began to be
very much troubled again.
"It will not be long," they said, "before the au-
tumnal equinox is here, and then that monster will
want to eat. He will be dreadfully hungry, for he has
taken so much exercise since his last meal. He will
devour our children. Without doubt, he will eat them
all. What is to be done?"
To this question no one could give an answer, but
all agreed that the Griffin must not be allowed to
remain until the approaching equinox. After talking
over the matter a great deal, a crowd of the people
went to the Minor Canon, at a time when the Griffin
was not with him.
"It is all your fault," they said, "that that monster
is among us. You brought him here, and you ought
to see that he goes away. It is only on your account
that he stays here at all, for, although he visits his
image every day, he is with you the greater part of
the time. If you were not here he would not stay.
It is your duty to go away, and then he will follow
you, and we shall be free from the dreadful danger
which hangs over us."
"Go away!" cried the Minor Canon, greatly grieved
at being spoken to in such a way. "Where shall I
go? If I go to some other town, shall I not take this
trouble there? Have I a right to do that?"
"No," said the people, "you must not go to any
12


THE MINOR CANON
other town. There is no town far enough away. You
must go to the dreadful wilds where the Griffin lives,
and then he will follow you and stay there."
They did not say whether or not they expected the
Minor Canon to stay there also, and he did not ask
them anything about it. He bowed his head, and
went into his house to think. The more he thought,
the more clear it became to his mind that it was his
duty to go away, and thus free the town from the
presence of the Griffin.
That evening he packed a leather bag full of bread
and meat, and early the next morning he set out on
his journey to the dreadful wilds. It was a long,
weary, and doleful journey, especially after he had
gone beyond the habitations of men; but the Minor
Canon kept on bravely, and never faltered. The way
was longer than he had expected, and his provisions
soon grew so scanty that he was obliged to eat but a
little every day; but he kept up his courage, and
pressed on, and after many days of toilsome travel
he reached the dreadful wilds.
When the Griffin found that the Minor Canon had
left the town, he seemed sorry, but showed no disposi-
tion to go and look for him. After a few days had
passed, he became much annoyed, and asked some of
the people where the Minor Canon had gone. But
although the citizens had been so anxious that the
young clergyman should go to the dreadful wilds,
thinking that the Griffin would immediately follow
him, they were now afraid to mention the Minor
Canon's destination, for the monster seemed angry
already, and if he should suspect their trick, he would
doubtless become very much enraged. So every one
13


THE GRIFFIN AND
said he did not know, and the Griffin wandered about
disconsolate. One morning he looked into the Minor
Canon's school-house, which was always empty now,
and thought that it was a shame that everything
should suffer on account of the young man's absence.
"It does not matter so much about the church," he
said, "for nobody went there. But it is a pity about
the school. I think I will teach it myself until he
returns."
It was the hour for opening the school, and the
Griffin went inside and pulled the rope which rang
the school bell. Some of the children who heard the
bell ran in to see what was the matter, supposing it to
be a joke of one of their companions. But when they
saw the Griffin they stood astonished and scared.
"Go tell the other scholars," said the monster, "that
school is about to open, and that if they are not all
here in ten minutes I shall come after them."
In seven minutes every scholar was in place.
Never was seen such an orderly school. Not a boy
or girl moved or uttered a whisper. The Griffin
climbed into the master's seat, his wide wings spread
on each side of him, because he could not lean back in
his chair while they stuck out behind, and his great
tail coiled around in front of the desk, the barbed end
sticking up, ready to tap any boy or girl who might
misbehave. The Griffin now addressed the scholars,
telling them that he intended to teach them while
their master was away. In speaking he endeavored
to imitate, as far as possible, the mild and gentle tones
of the Minor Canon, but it must be admitted that in
this he was not very successful. He had paid a good
deal of attention to the studies of the school, and he
14


THE MINOR CANON
determined not to attempt to teach them anything
new, but to review them in what they had been study-
ing. So he called up the various classes, and ques-
tioned them upon their previous lessons. The chil-
dren racked their brains to remember what they had
learned. They were so afraid of the Griffin's dis-
pleasure that they recited as they had never recited
before. One of the boys, far down in his class, an-
swered so well that the Griffin was astonished.
"I should think you would be at the head," said he.
"I am sure you have never been in the habit of re-
citing so well. Why is this?"
"Because I did not choose to take the trouble," said
the boy, trembling in his boots. He felt obliged to
speak the truth, for all the children thought that the
great eyes of the Griffin could see right through them,
and that he would know when they told a falsehood.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said the
Griffin. "Go down to the very tail of the class, and
if you are not at the head in two days, I shall know
the reason why."
The next afternoon this boy was number one.
It was astonishing how much these children now
learned of what they had been studying. It was as
if they had been educated over again. The Griffin
used no severity toward them, but there was a look
about him which made them unwilling to go to bed
until they were sure they knew their lessons for the
next day.
The Griffin now thought that he ought to visit the
sick and the poor, and he began to go about the town
for this purpose. The effect upon the sick was miracu-
lous. All, except those who were very ill indeed,
15


THE GRIFFIN AND
jumped from their beds when they heard he was com-
ing, and declared themselves quite well. To those who
could not get up he gave herbs and roots, which none
of them had ever before thought of as medicines, but
which the Griffin had seen used in various parts of the
world, and most of them recovered. But, for all that,
they afterwards said that no matter what happened to
them, they hoped that they should never again have
such a doctor coming to their bedsides, feeling their
pulses and looking at their tongues.
As for the poor, they seemed to have utterly disap-
peared. All those who had depended upon charity
for their daily bread were now at work in some way
or other, many of them offering to do odd jobs for
their neighbors just for the sake of their meals-a
thing which before had been seldom heard of in the
town. The Griffin could find no one who needed his
assistance.
The summer now passed, and the autumnal equi-
nox was rapidly approaching. The citizens were
in a state of great alarm and anxiety. The Griffin
showed no signs of going away, but seemed to have
settled himself permanently among them. In a short
time the day for his semi-annual meal would arrive,
and then what would happen? The monster would
certainly be very hungry, and would devour all their
children.
Now they greatly regretted and lamented that they
had sent away the Minor Canon. He was the only
one on whom they could have depended in this trouble,
for he could talk freely with the Griffin, and so find
out what could be done. But it would not do to be
inactive. Some step must be taken immediately. A
16


THE MINOR CANON
meeting of the citizens was called, and two old men
were appointed to go and talk to the Griffin. They
were instructed to offer to prepare a splendid dinner
for him on equinox day-one which would entirely
satisfy his hunger. They would offer him the fattest
mutton, the most tender beef, fish and game of vari-
ous sorts, and anything of the kind he might fancy.
If none of these suited, they were to mention that
there was an orphan asylum in the next town.
"Anything would be better," said the citizens, "than
to have our dear children devoured."
The old men went to the Griffin, but their proposi-
tions were not received with favor.
"From what I have seen of the people of this town,"
said the monster, "I do not think I could relish any-
thing which was prepared by them. They appear to
be all cowards, and, therefore, mean and selfish. As
for eating one of them, old or young, I could not think
of it for a moment. In fact, there was only one crea-
ture in the whole place for whom I could have had
any appetite, and that is the Minor Canon, who has
gone away. He was brave, and good, and honest, and
I think I should have relished him."
"Ah!" said one of the old men, very politely, "in
that case I wish we had not sent him to the dreadful
wilds!"
"What!" cried the Griffin. "What do you mean?
Explain instantly what you are talking about!"
The old man, terribly frightened at what he had
said, was obliged to tell how the Minor Canon had
been sent away by the people, in the hope that the
Griffin might be induced to follow him.
When the monster heard this he became furiously
17


THE GRIFFIN AND
angry.
He dashed away from the old men and, spread-
ing his wings, flew backward and forward over the
town. He was so much excited that his tail became
red-hot, and glowed like a meteor against the evening
sky. When at last he settled down in the little field
where he usually rested, and thrust his tail into the
brook, the steam arose like a cloud, and the water of
the stream ran hot through the town. The citizens
were greatly frightened, and bitterly blamed the old
man for telling about the Minor Canon.
"It is plain," they said, "that the Griffin intended
at last to go and look for him, and we should have
been saved. Now who can tell what misery you have
brought upon us?"
The Griffin did not remain long in the little field.
As soon as his tail was cool he flew to the town hall
and rang the bell. The citizens knew that they were
expected to come there, and although they were afraid
to go, they were still more afraid to stay away, and
they crowded into the hall. The Griffin was on the
platform at one end, flapping his wings and walking
up and down, and the end of his tail was still so warm
that it slightly scorched the boards as he dragged it
after him.
When everybody who was able to come was there,
the Griffin stood still and addressed the meeting.
"I have had a contemptible opinion of you," he said,
"ever since I discovered what cowards you are, but I
had no idea that you were so ungrateful, selfish, and
cruel as I now find you to be. Here was your Minor
Canon, who labored day and night for your good, and
thought of nothing else but how he might benefit you
and make you happy; and as soon as you imagine
18


THE MINOR CANON
yourselves threatened with a danger,—for well I know
you are dreadfully afraid of me,-you send him off,
caring not whether he returns or perishes, hoping
thereby to save yourselves. Now, I had conceived a
great liking for that young man, and had intended, in
a day or two, to go and look him up. But I have
changed my mind about him. I shall go and find him,
but I shall send him back here to live among you,
and
I intend that he shall enjoy the reward of his labor
and his sacrifices. Go, some of you, to the officers of
the church, who so cowardly ran away when I first
came here, and tell them never to return to this town
under penalty of death. And if, when your Minor
Canon comes back to you, you do not bow yourselves
before him, put him in the highest place among you,
and serve and honor him all his life, beware of my
terrible vengeance! There were only two good things
in this town: the Minor Canon and the stone image of
myself over your church door. One of these you have
sent away, and the other I shall carry away myself."
With these words he dismissed the meeting; and it
was time, for the end of his tail had become so hot
that there was danger of its setting fire to the building.
The next morning the Griffin came to the church,
and tearing the stone image of himself from its fasten-
ings over the great door, he grasped it with his power-
ful fore-legs and flew up into the air. Then, after
hovering over the town for a moment, he gave his tail
an angry shake, and took up his flight to the dreadful
wilds. When he reached this desolate region, he set
the stone griffin upon a ledge of a rock which rose in
front of the dismal cave he called his home. There
the image occupied a position somewhat similar to
19


THE GRIFFIN AND
that it had had over the church door; and the
Griffin, panting with the exertion of carrying such an
enormous load to so great a distance, lay down upon
the ground, and regarded it with much satisfaction.
When he felt somewhat rested he went to look for the
Minor Canon. He found the young man, weak and
half starved, lying under the shadow of a rock. After
picking him up and carrying him to his cave, the
Griffin flew away to a distant marsh, where he pro-
cured some roots and herbs which he well knew were
strengthening and beneficial to man, though he had
never tasted them himself. After eating these the
Minor Canon was greatly revived, and sat up and
listened while the Griffin told him what had happened
in the town.
"Do you know," said the monster, when he had
finished, "that I have had, and still have, a great
liking for you?"
"I am very glad to hear it," said the Minor Canon,
with his usual politeness.
"I am not at all sure that you would be," said the
Griffin, "if you thoroughly understood the state of the
case, but we will not consider that now.
If some
things were different, other things would be otherwise.
I have been so enraged by discovering the manner in
which you have been treated that I have determined
that you shall at last enjoy the rewards and honors to
which you are entitled. Lie down and have a good
sleep, and then I will take you back to the town."
As he heard these words, a look of trouble came
over the young man's face.
"You need not give yourself any anxiety," said the
Griffin, "about my return to the town. I shall not
20


THE MINOR CANON
remain there. Now that I have that admirable like-
ness of myself in front of my cave, where I can sit at
my leisure and gaze upon its noble features and mag-
nificent proportions, I have no wish to see that abode
of cowardly and selfish people."
The Minor Canon, relieved from his fears, lay back,
and dropped into a doze; and when he was sound
asleep, the Griffin took him up and carried him back
to the town. He arrived just before daybreak, and
putting the young man gently on the grass in the little
field where he himself used to rest, the monster, with-
out having been seen by any of the people, flew back
to his home.
When the Minor Canon made his appearance in the
morning among the citizens, the enthusiasm and cor-
diality with which he was received were truly won-
derful. He was taken to a house which had been
occupied by one of the banished high officers of the
place, and every one was anxious to do all that could
be done for his health and comfort. The people
crowded into the church when he held services, so that
the three old women who used to be his week-day
congregation could not get to the best seats, which
they had always been in the habit of taking; and
the parents of the bad children determined to reform
them at home, in order that he might be spared the
trouble of keeping up his former school. The Minor
Canon was appointed to the highest office of the old
church, and before he died he became a bishop.
During the first years after his return from the
dreadful wilds, the people of the town looked up to
him as a man to whom they were bound to do honor
and reverence. But they often, also, looked up to the
21


THE GRIFFIN AND MINOR CANON
sky to see if there were any signs of the Griffin coming
back. However, in the course of time they learned
to honor and reverence their former Minor Canon
without the fear of being punished if they did not
do so.
But they need never have been afraid of the Griffin.
The autumnal equinox day came round, and the mon-
ster ate nothing. If he could not have the Minor
Canon, he did not care for anything. So, lying down
with his eyes fixed upon the great stone griffin, he
gradually declined, and died. It was a good thing for
some of the people of the town that they did not know
this.
If you should ever visit the old town, you would
still see the little griffins on the sides of the church,
but the great stone griffin that was over the door is
gone.
223


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD


8
1
1
I


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
Α'
MOUNTAIN brook ran through a little village.
Over the brook there was a narrow bridge, and
from the bridge a foot-path led out from the village
and up the hillside to the cottage of Old Pipes and
his mother. For many, many years, Old Pipes had
been employed by the villagers to pipe the cattle
down from the hills. Every afternoon, an hour before
sunset, he would sit on a rock in front of his cottage
and play on his pipes. Then all the flocks and herds
that were grazing on the mountains would hear him,
wherever they might happen to be, and would come
down to the village-the cows by the easiest paths,
the sheep by those not quite so easy, and the goats by
the steep and rocky ways that were hardest of all.
But now, for a year or more, Old Pipes had not piped
the cattle home. It is true that every afternoon he
sat upon the rock and played upon his familiar in-
strument, but the cattle did not hear him. He had
grown old, and his breath was feeble. The echoes of
his cheerful notes, which used to come from the rocky
hill on the other side of the valley, were heard no
more, and twenty yards from Old Pipes one could
scarcely tell what tune he was playing. He had be-
come somewhat deaf, and did not know that the sound
25


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
of his pipes was so thin and weak, and that the cattle
did not hear him. The cows, the sheep, and the goats
came down every afternoon as before, but this was
because two boys and a girl were sent up after them.
The villagers did not wish the good old man to know
that his piping was no longer of any use, so they paid
him his little salary every month, and said nothing
about the two boys and the girl.
Old Pipes's mother was, of course, a great deal older
than he was, and was as deaf as a gate,-posts, latch,
hinges, and all,-and she never knew that the sound
of her son's pipe did not spread over all the mountain-
side, and echo back strong and clear from the opposite
hills. She was very fond of Old Pipes, and proud of
his piping, and as he was so much younger than she
was, she never thought of him as being very old. She
cooked for him, and made his bed, and mended his
clothes, and they lived very comfortably on his little
salary.
One afternoon, at the end of the month, when Old
Pipes had finished his piping, he took his stout staff
and went down the hill to the village to receive the
money for his month's work. The path seemed a
great deal steeper and more difficult than it used to
be, and Old Pipes thought that it must have been
washed by the rains and greatly damaged. He re-
membered it as a path that was quite easy to traverse
either up or down. But Old Pipes had been a very
active man, and as his mother was so much older than
he was, he never thought of himself as aged and in-
firm.
When the Chief Villager had paid him, and he had
talked a little with some of his friends, Old Pipes
26


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
started to go home. But when he had crossed the
bridge over the brook, and gone a short distance up
the hillside, he became very tired, and sat down upon
a stone. He had not been sitting there half a minute
when along came two boys and a girl.
"Children," said Old Pipes, "I'm very tired to-night,
and I don't believe I can climb up this steep path to
my home. I think I shall have to ask you to help
me."
"We will do that," said the boys and the girl, quite
cheerfully. Then one boy took him by the right hand,
and the other by the left, while the girl pushed him
in the back. In this way he went up the hill quite
easily, and soon reached his cottage door. Old Pipes
gave each of the three children a copper coin, and
then they sat down for a few minutes' rest before
starting back to the village.
"I'm sorry that I tired you so much," said Old
Pipes.
"Oh, that would not have tired us," said one of the
boys, "if we had not been so far to-day after the cows,
the sheep, and the goats. They rambled high up on
the mountain, and we never before had such a time
in finding them."
"Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the goats!"
exclaimed Old Pipes. "What do you mean by that?
The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook her
head, put her hand on her mouth, and made all sorts
of signs to the boy to stop talking on this subject.
But he did not notice her, and promptly answered Old
Pipes.
99
"Why, you see, good sir," said he, "that as the
cattle can't hear your pipes now, somebody has to go
27


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
after them every evening to drive them down from
the mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired us
three to do it. Generally it is not very hard work,
but to-night the cattle had wandered far."
"How long have you been doing this?" asked the
old man.
The girl shook her head and clapped her hand on
her mouth more vigorously than before, but the boy
went on.
"I think it is about a year now," he said, "since the
people first felt sure that the cattle could not hear
your pipes, and from that time we've been driving
them down. But we are rested now, and will go
home. Good night, sir."
The three children then went down the hill, the
girl scolding the boy all the way home. Old Pipes
stood silent a few moments, and then he went into his
cottage.
"Mother," he shouted, "did you hear what those
children said?"
"Children!" exclaimed the old woman. "I did not
hear them. I did not know there were any children
here."
Then Old Pipes told his mother, shouting very
loudly to make her hear, how the two boys and the
girl had helped him up the hill, and what he had heard
about his piping and the cattle.
"They can't hear you?" cried his mother. "Why,
what's the matter with the cattle?"
"Ah, me!" said Old Pipes. "I don't believe there's
anything the matter with the cattle. It must be with
me and my pipes that there is something the matter.
But one thing is certain: if I do not earn the wages
28


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
the Chief Villager pays me, I shall not take them. I
shall go straight down to the village and give back
the money I received to-day."
"Nonsense!” cried his mother. "I'm sure you've
piped as well as you could, and no more can be ex-
pected. And what are we to do without the money?"
"I don't know," said Old Pipes. "But I'm going
down to the village to pay it back."
The sun had now set; but the moon was shining
very brightly on the hillside, and Old Pipes could see
his way very well. He did not take the same path by
which he had gone before, but followed another,
which led among the trees upon the hillside, and,
though longer, was not so steep.
When he had gone about half-way, the old man sat
down to rest, leaning his back against a great oak-
tree. As he did so, he heard a sound like knocking
inside the tree, and then a voice distinctly said:
"Let me out! let me out!"
Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and
sprang to his feet. "This must be a Dryad tree!"
he exclaimed. "If it is, I'll let her out."
Old Pipes had never, to his knowledge, seen a Dryad
tree, but he knew there were such trees on the hill-
sides and the mountains, and that Dryads lived in
them. He knew, too, that in the summer-time, on
those days when the moon rose before the sun went
down, a Dryad could come out of her tree if any one
could find the key which locked her in, and turn it.
Old Pipes closely examined the trunk of the tree,
which stood in the full moonlight. "If I see that key,"
he said, "I shall surely turn it." Before long he per-
ceived a piece of bark standing out from the tree,
29


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
which appeared to him very much like the handle of
a key. He took hold of it, and found he could turn
it quite around. As he did so, a large part of the side
of the tree was pushed open, and a beautiful Dryad
stepped quickly out.
For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the
scene before her-the tranquil valley, the hills, the
forest, and the mountain-side, all lying in the soft,
clear light of the moon. "Oh, lovely! lovely!" she
exclaimed. "How long it is since I have seen any-
thing like this!" And then, turning to Old Pipes,
she said: "How good of you to let me out! I am so
happy and so thankful that I must kiss you, you dear
old man!" And she threw her arms around the neck
of Old Pipes, and kissed him on both cheeks. "You
don't know," she then went on to say, "how doleful
it is to be shut up so long in a tree. I don't mind it
in the winter, for then I am glad to be sheltered, but
in summer it is a rueful thing not to be able to see all
the beauties of the world. And it's ever so long since
I've been let out. People so seldom come this way,
and when they do come at the right time they either
don't hear me, or they are frightened and run away.
But you, you dear old man, you were not frightened,
and you looked and looked for the key, and you let
me out, and now I shall not have to go back till win-
ter has come and the air grows cold. Oh, it is glori-
ous! What can I do for you to show you how grateful
I am?"
"I am very glad," said Old Pipes, "that I let you
out, since I see that it makes you so happy. But I
must admit that I tried to find the key because I had
a great desire to see a Dryad. But if you wish to do
30


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
something for me, you can, if you happen to be going
down toward the village."
"To the village!" exclaimed the Dryad. "I will
go anywhere for you, my kind old benefactor."
"Well, then," said Old Pipes, "I wish you would
take this little bag of money to the Chief Villager, and
tell him that Old Pipes cannot receive pay for the ser-
vices which he does not perform. It is now more than
a year that I have not been able to make the cattle
hear me when I piped to call them home. I did not
know this until to-night, but now that I know it I can-
not keep the money, and so I send it back." So
handing the little bag to the Dryad, he bade her good
night, and turned toward his cottage.
"Good night," said the Dryad. "And I thank you
over and over and over again, you good old man!”
Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to be
saved the fatigue of going all the way down to the
village and back again. "To be sure," he said to him-
self, "this path does not seem at all steep, and I can
walk along it very easily, but it would have tired me
dreadfully to come up all the way from the village,
especially as I could not have expected those children
to help me again." When he reached home, his
mother was surprised to see him returning so soon.
"What!" she exclaimed, "have you already come
back? What did the Chief Villager say? Did he
take the money?"
Old Pipes was just about to tell her that he had sent
the money to the village by a Dryad, when he sud-
denly reflected that his mother would be sure to dis-
approve such a proceeding, and so he merely said he
had sent it by a person whom he had met.
31


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
"And how do you know that the person will ever
take it to the Chief Villager?" cried his mother.
"You will lose it, and the villagers will never get it.
Oh, Pipes! Pipes! when will you be old enough to
have ordinary common sense?"
Old Pipes considered that as he was already seventy
years of age he could scarcely expect to grow any
wiser, but he made no remark on this subject, and
saying that he doubted not that the money would go
safely to its destination, he sat down to his supper.
His mother scolded him roundly, but he did not mind
it, and after supper he went out and sat on a rustic
chair in front of the cottage to look at the moonlit
village, and to wonder whether or not the Chief Vil-
lager really received the money. While he was doing
these two things, he went fast asleep.
When Old Pipes left the Dryad, she did not go down
to the village with the little bag of money. She held
it in her hand, and thought about what she had heard.
"This is a good and honest old man," she said, "and
it is a shame that he should lose this money. He
looked as if he needed it, and I don't believe the
people in the village will take it from one who has
served them so long. Often, when in my tree, have I
heard the sweet notes of his pipes. I am going to take
the money back to him." She did not start immedi-
ately, because there were so many beautiful things to
look at. But after a while she went up to the cottage,
and finding Old Pipes asleep in his chair, she slipped
the little bag into his coat-pocket, and silently sped
away.
The next day Old Pipes told his mother that he
would go up the mountain and cut some wood. He
32


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
had a right to get wood from the mountain, but for a
long time he had been content to pick up the dead
branches which lay about his cottage. To-day, how-
ever, he felt so strong and vigorous that he thought
he would go and cut some fuel that would be better
than this. He worked all the morning, and when he
came back he did not feel at all tired, and had a very
good appetite for his dinner.
Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads,
but there was one thing which, although he had heard,
he had forgotten. This was that a kiss from a Dryad
makes a person ten years younger. The people of the
village knew this, and they were very careful not to
let any child of ten years or younger go into the
woods where the Dryads were supposed to be, for if
they should chance to be kissed by one of these tree-
nymphs, they would be set back so far that they would
cease to exist. A story was told in the village that a
very bad boy of eleven once ran away into the woods,
and had an adventure of this kind, and when his
mother found him he was a little baby of one year old.
Taking advantage of her opportunity, she brought
him up more carefully than she had done before, and
he grew to be a very good boy indeed.
Now, Old Pipes had been kissed twice by the Dryad,
once on each cheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous
and active as when he was a hale man of fifty. His
mother noticed how much work he was doing, and told
him that he need not try in that way to make up
for
the loss of his piping wages, for he would only tire
himself out, and get sick. But her son answered that
he had not felt so well for years, and that he was quite
able to work. In the course of the afternoon, Old
33


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
Pipes, for the first time that day, put his hand in his
coat-pocket, and there, to his amazement, he found
the little bag of money. "Well, well!" he exclaimed,
"I am stupid indeed! I really thought that I had
seen a Dryad, but when I sat down by that big oak-
tree I must have gone to sleep and dreamed it all, and
then I came home thinking I had given the money to
a Dryad, when it was in my pocket all the time. But
the Chief Villager shall have the money. I shall not
take it to him to-day, but to-morrow I wish to go to
the village to see some of my old friends, and then I
shall give up the money."
Toward the close of the afternoon, Old Pipes, as had
been his custom for so many years, took his pipes from
the shelf on which they lay, and went out to the rock
in front of the cottage.
"What are you going to do?" cried his mother.
"If you will not consent to be paid, why do you
pipe?"
"I am going to pipe for my own pleasure," said her
son. "I am used to it, and I do not wish to give it
up. It does not matter now whether the cattle hear
me or not, and I am sure that my piping will injure
no one."
When the good man began to play upon his favorite
instrument he was astonished at the sound that came
from it. The beautiful notes of the pipes sounded
clear and strong down into the valley, and spread
over the hills, and up the sides of the mountain be-
yond, while, after a little interval, an echo came
back from the rocky hill on the other side of the
valley.
"Ha, ha!" he cried, "what has happened to my
34


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
pipes? They must have been stopped up of late, but
now they are as clear and good as ever."
Again the merry notes went sounding far and wide.
The cattle on the mountain heard them, and those
that were old enough remembered how these notes
had called them from their pastures every evening,
and so they started down the mountain-side, the others
following.
The merry notes were heard in the village below,
and the people were much astonished thereby. "Why,
who can be blowing the pipes of Old Pipes?" they said.
But as they were all very busy, no one went up to
see. One thing, however, was plain enough: the
cattle were coming down the mountain. So the two
boys and the girl did not have to go after them, and
had an hour for play, for which they were very glad.
The next morning Old Pipes started down to the
village with his money, and on the way he met the
Dryad. "Oh, ho!" he cried, "is that you? Why, I
thought my letting you out of the tree was nothing
but a dream."
"A dream!" cried the Dryad. "If you only knew
how happy you have made me, you would not think
it merely a dream. And has it not benefited you?
Do you not feel happier? Yesterday I heard you
playing beautifully on your pipes."
"Yes, yes," cried he. "I did not understand it
before, but I see it all now. I have really grown
younger. I thank you, I thank you, good Dryad,
from the bottom of my heart. It was the finding of
the money in my pocket that made me think it was a
dream."
“Oh, I put it in when you were asleep," she said,
35


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
laughing, "because I thought you ought to keep it.
Good-by, kind, honest man. May you live long,
and be as happy as I am now."
Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he understood
that he was really a younger man. But that made no
difference about the money, and he kept on his way
to the village. As soon as he reached it, he was
eagerly questioned as to who had been playing his
pipes the evening before, and when the people heard
that it was himself, they were very much surprised.
Thereupon Old Pipes told what had happened to him,
and then there was greater wonder, with hearty con-
gratulations and hand-shakes, for Old Pipes was liked
by every one. The Chief Villager refused to take
his money, and although Old Pipes said he had not
earned it, every one present insisted that, as he could
now play on his pipes as before, he should lose nothing
because, for a time, he was unable to perform his duty.
So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and
after an hour or two spent in conversation with his
friends, he returned to his cottage.
There was one individual, however, who was not at
all pleased with what had happened to Old Pipes.
This was an Echo-dwarf who lived on the hills on the
other side of the valley, and whose duty it was to echo
back the notes of the pipes whenever they could be
heard. There were a great many other Echo-dwarfs
on these hills, some of whom echoed back the songs of
maidens, some the shouts of children, and others the
music that was often heard in the village. But there
was only one who could send back the strong notes of
the pipes of Old Pipes, and this had been his sole duty
for many years. But when the old man grew feeble,
36


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
and the notes of his pipes could not be heard on the
opposite hills, this Echo-dwarf had nothing to do, and
he spent his time in delightful idleness; and he slept
so much and grew so fat that it made his companions
laugh to see him walk.
On the afternoon on which, after so long an interval,
the sound of the pipes was heard on the echo hills, this
dwarf was fast asleep behind a rock. As soon as the
first notes reached them, some of his companions ran
to wake him. Rolling to his feet, he echoed back the
merry tune of Old Pipes. Naturally, he was very
much annoyed and indignant at being thus obliged to
give up his life of comfortable leisure, and he hoped
that this pipe-playing would not occur again.
But the next afternoon he was awake and listen-
ing, and, sure enough, at the usual hour along came
the notes of the pipes, as clear and strong as they ever
had been, and he was obliged to work as long as Old
Pipes played. The Echo-dwarf was very angry. He
had supposed, of course, that the pipe-playing had
ceased forever, and he felt that he had a right to be
indignant at being thus deceived. He was so much
disturbed that he made up his mind to go and try to
find out whether this was to be a temporary matter
or not. He had plenty of time, as the pipes were
played but once a day, and he set off early in the
morning for the hill on which Old Pipes lived. It
was hard work for the fat little fellow, and when
he had crossed the valley and had gone some dis-
tance into the woods on the hillside, he stopped to rest,
and in a few minutes the Dryad came tripping along.
"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the dwarf, "what are you
doing here? and how did you get out of your tree?"
37


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
"Doing!" cried the Dryad. "I am being happy,
that's what I am doing. I was let out of my tree
by the good old man who plays the pipes to call the
cattle down from the mountain, and it makes me
happier to think that I have been of service to him.
I gave him two kisses of gratitude, and now he is
young enough to play his pipes as well as ever."
The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with
passion. "Am I to believe," he said, "that you are
the cause of this great evil that has come upon me?
that you are the wicked creature who has again
started this old man upon his career of pipe-playing?
What have I ever done to you that you should have
condemned me for years and years to echo back the
notes of those wretched pipes?"
At this the Dryad laughed loudly.
"What a funny little fellow you are!" she said.
"Any one would think you had been condemned to
toil from morning till night, while what you really
have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour every
day the merry notes of Old Pipes's piping. Fie upon
you, Echo-dwarf! You are lazy and selfish, and that
is what is the matter with you. Instead of grumbling
at being obliged to do a little wholesome work, which
is less, I am sure, than that of any other Echo-dwarf
upon the rocky hillside, you should rejoice at the
good fortune of the old man who has regained so much
of his strength and vigor. Go home and learn to be
just and generous, and then, perhaps, you may be
happy. Good-by."
"Insolent creature!"
his fat little fist at her.
You shall find out what
shouted the dwarf, as he shook
"I'll make you suffer for this.
it is to heap injury and insult
!
38


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
upon one like me, and to snatch from him the repose
that he has earned by long years of toil." And shaking
his head savagely, he hurried back to the rocky hillside.
Every afternoon the merry notes of the pipes of Old
Pipes sounded down into the valley and over the hills
and up the mountain-side, and every afternoon, when
he had echoed them back, the little dwarf grew more
and more angry with the Dryad. Each day, from
early morning till it was time for him to go back to
his duties upon the rocky hillside, he searched the
woods for her. He intended, if he met her, to pretend
to be very sorry for what he had said, and he thought
he might be able to play a trick upon her which would
revenge him well. One day, while thus wandering
among the trees, he met Old Pipes. The Echo-dwarf
did not generally care to see or to speak to ordinary
people, but now he was so anxious to find the object
of his search that he stopped and asked Old Pipes if
he had seen the Dryad. The piper had not noticed
the little fellow, and he looked down on him with some
surprise.
"No," he said. "I have not seen her, and I have
been looking everywhere for her."
"You!" cried the dwarf. "What do you wish with
her?"
Old Pipes then sat down on a stone, so that he
should be nearer the ear of his small companion, and
he told what the Dryad had done for him.
When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man
whose pipes he was obliged to echo back every day,
he would have slain him on the spot had he been able.
But as he was not able, he merely ground his teeth
and listened to the rest of the story.
1
D
39


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
"I am looking for the Dryad now," Old Pipes con-
tinued, "on account of my aged mother. When I was
old myself I did not notice how very aged my mother
was; but now it shocks me to see how feeble and de-
crepit her years have caused her to become, and I am
looking for the Dryad to ask her to make my mother
younger, as she made me."
The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened. Here was a
man who might help him in his plans.
"Your idea is a good one," he said to Old Pipes,
"and it does you honor. But you should know that a
Dryad can make no person younger but one who lets
her out of her tree. However, you can manage the
affair very easily. All you need do is to find the
Dryad, tell her what you want, and request her to step
into her tree and be shut up for a short time. Then
you will go and bring your mother to the tree, she
will open it, and everything will be as you wish. Is
not this a good plan?"
"Excellent!" cried Old Pipes. "I will go instantly
and search more diligently for the Dryad."
"Take me with you," said the Echo-dwarf. "You
can easily carry me on your strong shoulders, and I
shall be glad to help you in any way that I can."
"Now, then," said the little fellow to himself, as Old
Pipes carried him rapidly along, "if he persuades the
Dryad to get into a tree,—and she is quite foolish
enough to do it,—and then goes away to bring his
mother, I shall take a stone or a club, and I will break
off the key of that tree, so that nobody can ever turn
it again. Then Mistress Dryad will see what she has
brought upon herself by her behavior to me."
Before long they came to the great oak-tree in
40


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
which the Dryad had lived, and, at a distance, they
saw that beautiful creature herself coming toward
them.
"How excellently well everything happens!" said
the dwarf. "Put me down, and I will go. Your
business with the Dryad is more important than mine,
and you need not say anything about my having sug-
gested your plan to you. I am willing that you should
have all the credit of it yourself."
Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but
the little rogue did not go away. He concealed him-
self between some low, mossy rocks, and he was so
much of their color that you would not have noticed
him if you had been looking straight at him.
When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time in
telling her about his mother, and what he wished her
to do. At first the Dryad answered nothing, but
stood looking very sadly at Old Pipes.
"Do you really wish me to go into my tree again?”
she said. "I should dreadfully dislike to do it, for I
don't know what might happen. It is not at all neces-
sary, for I could make your mother younger at any
time if she would give me the opportunity. I had
already thought of making you still happier in this
way, and several times I have waited about your cot-
tage, hoping to meet your aged mother; but she never
comes outside, and you know a Dryad cannot enter a
house. I cannot imagine what put this idea into your
head. Did you think of it yourself?"
"No, I cannot say that I did," answered Old Pipes.
"A little dwarf whom I met in the woods proposed
it to me."
"Oh!" cried the Dryad, "now I see through it all.
.
41


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
It is the scheme of that vile Echo-dwarf-your enemy
and mine. Where is he? I should like to see him."
"I think he has gone away," said Old Pipes.
"No, he has not," said the Dryad, whose quick eyes
perceived the Echo-dwarf among the rocks. "There
he is. Seize him and drag him out, I beg of you."
Old Pipes perceived the dwarf as soon as he was
pointed out to him, and running to the rocks, he
caught the little fellow by the leg and pulled him
out.
"Now, then,” cried the Dryad, who had opened the
door of the great oak, "just stick him in there, and
we will shut him up. Then I shall be safe from his
mischief for the rest of the time I am free."
Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree. The
Dryad pushed the door shut. There was a clicking
sound of bark and wood, and no one would have no-
ticed that the big oak had ever had an opening in it.
"There," said the Dryad. "Now we need not be
afraid of him. And I assure you, my good piper, that
I shall be very glad to make your mother younger as
soon as I can. Will you not ask her to come out and
meet me?"
"Of course I will," cried Old Pipes. "I will do it
without delay."
Then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his
cottage. But when he mentioned the matter to his
mother, the old woman became very angry indeed.
She did not believe in Dryads; and if they really
did exist, she knew they must be witches and sor-
ceresses, and she would have nothing to do with them.
If her son had ever allowed himself to be kissed by
one of them he ought to be ashamed of himself. As to
42


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
its doing him the least bit of good, she did not be-
lieve a word of it. He felt better than he used to
feel, but that was very common. She had sometimes
felt that way herself, and she forbade him ever to
mention a Dryad to her again.
That afternoon Old Pipes, feeling very sad that his
plan in regard to his mother had failed, sat down upon
the rock and played upon his pipes. The pleasant
sounds went down the valley and up the hills and
mountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons
who happened to notice the fact, the notes were not
echoed back from the rocky hillside, but from the
woods on the side of the valley where Old Pipes lived.
The next day many of the villagers stopped in
their work to listen to the echo of the pipes coming
from the woods. The sound was not as clear and
strong as it used to be when it was sent back from
the rocky hillside, but it certainly came from among
the trees. Such a thing as an echo changing its place
in this way had never been heard of before, and no-
body was able to explain how it could have happened.
Old Pipes, however, knew very well that the sound
came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak-
tree. The sides of the tree were thin, the sound
of the pipes could be heard through them, and the
dwarf was obliged by the laws of his being to echo
back those notes whenever they came to him. But
Old Pipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble
if he let any one know that the Echo-dwarf was shut
up in the tree, and so he wisely said nothing about
it.
One day the two boys and the girl who had helped
Old Pipes up the hill were playing in the woods.
43


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
Stopping near the great oak-tree, they heard a sound
of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said :
"Let me out! let me out!"
For a moment the children stood still in astonish-
ment, and then one of the boys exclaimed:
"Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found!
Let's let her out!"
"What are you thinking of?" cried the girl. "I
am the oldest of all, and I am only thirteen. Do you
wish to be turned into crawling babies? Run! run!
run!"
And the two boys and the girl dashed down into
the valley as fast as their legs could carry them. There
was no desire in their youthful hearts to be made
younger than they were. For fear that their parents
might think it well that they should commence their
careers anew, they never said a word about finding
the Dryad tree.
As the summer days went on, Old Pipes's mother
grew feebler and feebler. One day when her son was
away, for he now frequently went into the woods to
hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she arose
from her knitting to prepare the simple dinner. But
she felt so weak and tired that she was not able to do
the work to which she had been so long accustomed.
"Alas! alas!" she said, "the time has come when I
am too old to work. My son will have to hire some
one to come here and cook his meals, make his bed,
and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I had hoped that
as long as I lived I should be able to do these things.
But it is not so. I have grown utterly worthless, and
some one else must prepare the dinner for my son. I
wonder where he is." And tottering to the door, she
44


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
went outside to look for him. She did not feel able to
stand, and reaching the rustic chair, she sank into it,
quite exhausted, and soon fell asleep.
The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage to
see if she could find an opportunity of carrying out
Old Pipes's affectionate design, now happened by, and
seeing that the much-desired occasion had come, she
stepped up quietly behind the old woman and gently
kissed her on each cheek, and then as quietly disap-
peared.
In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke,
and looking up at the sun, she exclaimed: "Why, it
is almost dinner-time! My son will be here presently,
and I am not ready for him." And rising to her feet,
she hurried into the house, made the fire, set the
meat and vegetables to cook, laid the cloth, and by the
time her son arrived the meal was on the table.
"How a little sleep does refresh one!" she said to
herself, as she was bustling about. She was a woman
of very vigorous constitution, and at seventy had been
a great deal stronger and more active than her son was
at that age. The moment Old Pipes saw his mother,
he knew that the Dryad had been there. But, while
he felt as happy as a king, he was too wise to say any-
thing about her.
"It is astonishing how well I feel to-day!" said his
mother, "and either my hearing has improved or you
speak much more plainly than you have done of late."
The summer days went on and passed away, the
leaves were falling from the trees, and the air was be-
coming cold.
"Nature has ceased to be lovely," said the Dryad,
"and the night winds chill me. It is time for me to
45


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
go back into my comfortable quarters in the great oak.
But first I must pay another visit to the cottage of
Old Pipes."
She found the piper and his mother sitting side by
side on the rock in front of the door. The cattle were
not to go to the mountain any more that season, and
he was piping them down for the last time. Loud and
merrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and down the
mountain-side came the cattle, the cows by the easiest
paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, and the
goats by the most difficult ones among the rocks, while
from the great oak-tree were heard the echoes of the
cheerful music.
"How happy they look, sitting there together!" said
the Dryad, "and I don't believe it will do them a bit
of harm to be still younger." And moving quietly up
behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his cheek,
and then his mother.
Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it
was, but he did not move, and said nothing. His
mother, thinking that her son had kissed her, turned
to him with a smile and kissed him in return. Then
she arose and went into the cottage, a vigorous woman
of sixty, followed by her son, erect and happy, and
twenty years younger than herself.
The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her
shoulders as she felt the cool evening wind.
When she reached the great oak, she turned the key
and opened the door. "Come out," she said to the
Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking within. "Winter is
coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter of my
tree for myself. The cattle have come down from the
mountain for the last time this year, the pipes will no
46


OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD
longer sound, and you can go to your rocks and have
a holiday until next spring."
Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly
out, and the Dryad entered the tree and pulled the
door shut after her. "Now, then," she said to herself,
"he can break off the key if he likes. It does not
matter to me. Another will grow out next spring.
And although the good piper made me no promise,
I know that when the warm days arrive next year, he
will come and let me out again."
The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of
the tree. He was too happy at being released to think
of anything else, and he hastened as fast as he could
to his home on the rocky hillside.
THE Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in
the piper. When the warm days came again he went
to the oak-tree to let her out. But, to his sorrow and
surprise, he found the great tree lying upon the
ground. A winter storm had blown it down, and it
lay with its trunk shattered and split. And what be-
came of the Dryad, no one ever knew.
47





THE BEE-MAN OF ORN


}


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
IN
N the ancient country of Orn there lived an old
man who was called the Bee-man, because his whole
time was spent in the company of bees. He lived in
a small hut, which was nothing more than an immense
beehive, for these little creatures had built their
honeycombs in every corner of the one room it con-
tained, -on the shelves, under the little table, all about
the rough bench on which the old man sat, and even
about the headboard and along the sides of his low
bed. All day the air of the room was thick with buzz-
ing insects, but this did not interfere in any way with
the old Bee-man, who walked in among them, ate his
meals, and went to sleep without the slightest fear of
being stung. He had lived with the bees so long, they
had become so accustomed to him, and his skin was so
tough and hard, that they no more thought of sting-
ing him than they would of stinging a tree or a stone.
A swarm of bees made their hive in a pocket of
his old leather doublet; and when he put on this coat
to take one of his long walks in the forest in search of
wild bees' nests, he was very glad to have this hive
with him, for if he did not find any wild honey, he
would put his hand in his pocket and take out a piece
of honeycomb for a luncheon. The bees in his pocket
51


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
worked very industriously, and he was always certain
of having something to eat with him wherever he
went. He lived principally upon honey; and when
he needed bread or meat, he carried some fine combs
to a village near by and bartered them for other food.
He was ugly, untidy, shrivelled, and sun-burnt.
He was poor, and the bees seemed to be his only
friends. But, for all that, he was happy and con-
tented. He had all the honey he wanted, and his
bees, whom he considered the best company in the
world, were as friendly and sociable as they could be,
and seemed to increase in number every day.
One day there stopped at the hut of the Bee-man a
Junior Sorcerer. This young person, who was a stu-
dent of magic, necromancy, and the kindred arts, was
much interested in the Bee-man, whom he had fre-
quently noticed in his wanderings, and he considered
him an admirable subject for study. He had had a
great deal of useful practice in endeavoring to find
out, by the various rules and laws of sorcery, exactly
why the old Bee-man did not happen to be something
that he was not, and why he was what he happened to
be. He had studied this matter a long time, and
had found out something.
"Do you know," he said, when the Bee-man came
out of his hut, "that you have been transformed?"
"What do you mean by that?" said the other, much
surprised.
"You have surely heard of animals and human
beings who have been magically transformed into
different kinds of creatures?"
"Yes, I have heard of these things," said the Bee-
man. "But what have I been transformed from?"
52


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
"That is more than I know," said the Junior Sor-
cerer. "But one thing is certain-you ought to be
changed back. If you will find out what you have
been transformed from, I will see that you are made
all right again. Nothing would please me better than
to attend to such a case."
Then, having a great many things to study and in-
vestigate, the Junior Sorcerer went his way.
This information greatly disturbed the mind of the
Bee-man. If he had been changed from something
else, he ought to be that other thing, whatever it was.
He ran after the young man, and overtook him.
"If you know, kind sir," he said, "that I have been
transformed, you surely are able to tell me what it is
that I was."
"No," said the Junior Sorcerer, "my studies have
not proceeded far enough for that. When I become
a senior I can tell you all about it. But, in the mean-
time, it will be well for you to try to discover for
yourself your original form, and when you have done
that, I will get some of the learned masters of my art
to restore you to it. It will be easy enough to do
that, but you cannot expect them to take the time
and trouble to find out what it was."
With these words, he hurried away, and was soon
lost to view.
Greatly disquieted, the Bee-man retraced his steps,
and went to his hut. Never before had he heard any-
thing which had so troubled him.
"I wonder what I was transformed from?" he
thought, seating himself on his rough bench. "Could
it have been a giant, or a powerful prince, or some
gorgeous being whom the magicians or the fairies
53


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
wished to punish? It may be that I was a dog or a
horse, or perhaps a fiery dragon or a horrid snake. I
hope it was not one of these. But, whatever it was,
every one has certainly a right to his original form,
and I am resolved to find out mine. I will start early
to-morrow morning, and I am sorry now I have not
more pockets to my old doublet, so that I might carry
more bees and more honey for my journey."
He spent the rest of the day in making a hive of
twigs and straw, and when he had transferred to this
some honeycombs and a colony of bees which had
just swarmed, he rose before sunrise the next day,
put on his leather doublet, bound his new hive to
his back, and set forth on his quest, the bees who
were to accompany him buzzing about him like a
cloud.
As the Bee-man passed through the little village
the people greatly wondered at his queer appearance,
with the hive upon his back. "The Bee-man is going
on a long expedition, this time," they said. But no
one imagined the strange business on which he was
bent. About noon he sat down under a tree, near a
beautiful meadow covered with blossoms, and ate a
little honey. Then he untied his hive and stretched
himself out on the grass to rest. As he gazed upon
his bees hovering above him, some going out to the
blossoms in the sunshine, and some returning laden
with the sweet pollen, he said to himself: "They know
just what they have to do, and they do it. But alas
for me! I know not what I may have to do. And
yet, whatever it may be, I am determined to do it.
In some way or other I will find out what was my
54


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
original form, and then I will have myself changed
back to it."
And now the thought again came to him that per-
haps his original form might have been something
very disagreeable, or even horrid.
"But it does not matter," he said sturdily. "What-
ever I was, that shall I be again. It is not right for
any one to retain a form which does not properly
belong to him. I have no doubt I shall discover my
original form in the same way that I find the trees in
which the wild bees hive. When I first catch sight
of a bee tree I am drawn toward it, I know not how.
Something says to me: 'That is what you are looking
for.' In the same way I believe that I shall find my
original form. When I see it, I shall be drawn toward
it. Something will say to me: "That is it.""
When the Bee-man had rested he started off again,
and in about an hour he entered a fair domain.
Around him were beautiful lawns, grand trees, and
lovely gardens, while at a little distance stood the
stately palace of the Lord of the Domain. Richly
dressed people were walking about or sitting in the
shade of the trees and arbors, splendidly caparisoned
horses were waiting for their riders, and everywhere
were seen signs of opulence and gayety.
"I think," said the Bee-man to himself, "that I
should like to stop here for a time. If it should hap-
pen that I was originally like any of these happy
creatures it would please me much."
He untied his hive, and hid it behind some bushes,
and taking off his old doublet, laid that beside it. It
would not do to have his bees flying about him if
55


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
he wished to go among the inhabitants of this fair
domain.
For two days the Bee-man wandered about the
palace and its grounds, avoiding notice as much as
possible, but looking at everything. He saw hand-
some men and lovely ladies, the finest horses, dogs,
and cattle that were ever known, beautiful birds in
cages, and fishes in crystal globes, and it seemed to
him that the best of all living things were here
collected.
At the close of the second day the Bee-man said to
himself: "There is one being here toward whom I feel
very much drawn, and that is the Lord of the Domain.
I cannot feel certain that I was once like him, but it
would be a very fine thing if it were so; and it seems
impossible for me to be drawn toward any other being
in the domain when I look upon him, so handsome,
rich, and powerful. But I must observe him more
closely, and feel more sure of the matter, before ap-
plying to the sorcerers to change me back into a lord
of a fair domain."
The next morning the Bee-man saw the Lord of the
Domain walking in his gardens. He slipped along the
shady paths, and followed him so as to observe him
closely, and find out if he were really drawn toward
this noble and handsome being. The Lord of the
Domain walked on for some time, not noticing that
the Bee-man was behind him. But suddenly turning,
he saw the little old man.
"What are you doing here, you vile beggar?" he
cried, and he gave him a kick that sent him into
some bushes that grew by the side of the path.
The Bee-man scrambled to his feet, and ran as fast
1
1
F
56


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
as he could to the place where he had hidden his hive
and his old doublet.
"If I am certain of anything," he thought, "it is
that I was never a person who would kick a poor old
man. I shall leave this place. I was transformed from
nothing that I see here."
He now travelled for a day or two longer, and then
he came to a great black mountain, near the bottom
of which was an opening like the mouth of a cave.
This mountain, he had heard, was filled with caverns
and underground passages, which were the abodes of
dragons, evil spirits, and horrid creatures of all kinds.
"Ah me!" said the Bee-man, with a sigh, "I sup-
pose I ought to visit this place. If I am going to do
this thing properly, I should look on all sides of the
subject, and I may have been one of those dreadful
creatures myself."
Thereupon he went to the mountain, and as he
approached the opening of the passage which led into
its inmost recesses, he saw, sitting upon the ground,
and leaning his back against a tree, a Languid Youth.
"Good day," said this individual, when he saw the
Bee-man. "Are you going inside?”
"Yes," said the Bee-man, "that is what I intend to
do."
"Then," said the Languid Youth, slowly rising to
his feet, "I think I will go with you. I was told that
if I went in there I should get my energies toned up,
and they need it very much. But I did not feel equal
to entering by myself, and I thought I would wait
until some one came who was going in. I am very
glad to see you, and we will enter together."
So the two went into the cave, and they had pro-
57


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
ceeded but a short distance when they met a very
little creature, whom it was easy to recognize as a
Very Imp. He was about two feet high, and resem-
bled in color a freshly polished pair of boots. He was
extremely lively and active, and came bounding
toward them.
"What did you two people come here for?" he asked.
"I came," said the Languid Youth, "to have my
energies toned up."
"You have come to the right place," said the Very
Imp. "We will tone you up. And what does that
old Bee-man want?"
"He has been transformed from something, and
wants to find out what it is. He thinks he may have
been one of the things in here."
"I should not wonder if that were so," said the
Very Imp, rolling his head on one side and eying
the Bee-man with a critical gaze. "All right,"
continued the Very Imp, "he can go around and
pick out his previous existence. We have here all
sorts of vile creepers, crawlers, hissers, and snorters.
I suppose he thinks anything will be better than a
Bee-man."
"It is not because I want to be better than I am,"
said the Bee-man, "that I started out on this search.
I have simply an honest desire to become what I
originally was."
"Oh! that is it, is it?" said the other. "There is an
idiotic moon-calf here, with a clam head, which must
be very much like what you used to be."
"Nonsense," said the Bee-man. "You have not the
least idea what an honest purpose is. I shall go about
and see for myself."
58


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
"Go on," said the Very Imp, "and I will attend
to this fellow who wants to be toned up." So saying,
he joined the Languid Youth.
"Look here," said that individual, regarding him
with interest, "do you black and shine yourself every
morning?"
"No," said the other, "it is waterproof varnish.
You want to be invigorated, don't you? Well, I will
tell you a splendid way to begin. You see that Bee-
man has put down his hive and his coat with the bees
in it. Just wait till he gets out of sight, and then
catch a lot of those bees and squeeze them flat. If
you spread them on a sticky rag, and make a plaster,
and put it on the small of your back, it will invigorate
you like everything, especially if some of the bees are
not quite dead."
"Yes," said the Languid Youth, looking at him
with his mild eyes, "but if I had energy enough to
catch a bee I would be satisfied. Suppose you catch
a lot for me."
"The subject is changed," said the Very Imp. "We
are now about to visit the spacious chamber of the
King of the Snapdragons."
"That is a flower," said the Languid Youth.
"You will find him a gay old blossom," said the
other. "When he has chased you round his room, and
has blown sparks at you, and has snorted and howled,
and cracked his tail, and snapped his jaws like a pair
of anvils, your energies will be toned up higher than
ever before in your life."
"No doubt of it," said the Languid Youth. "But
I think I will begin with something a little milder."
"Well, then," said the other, "there is a flat-tailed
59


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
Demon of the Gorge in here. He is generally asleep,
and, if you say so, you can slip into the farthest corner
of his cave, and I'll solder his tail to the opposite wall.
Then he will rage and roar, but he can't get at you,
for he doesn't reach all the way across his cave; I
have measured him. It will tone you up wonderfully
to sit there and watch him."
"Very likely," said the Languid Youth. "But I
would rather stay outside and let you go up in the
corner. The performance in that way will be more
interesting to me."
"You are dreadfully hard to please," said the Very
Imp. "I have offered them to you loose, and I have
offered them fastened to a wall, and now the best
thing I can do is to give you a chance at one of them
that can't move at all. It is the Ghastly Griffin, and
is enchanted. He can't stir so much as the tip of his
whiskers for a thousand years. You can go to his
cave and examine him just as if he were stuffed, and
then you can sit on his back and think how it would
be if you should live to be a thousand years old, and
he should wake up while you are sitting there. It
would be easy to imagine a lot of horrible things he
would do to you when you look at his open mouth
with its awful fangs, his dreadful claws, and his hor-
rible wings all covered with spikes."
"I think that might suit me," said the Languid
Youth. "I would much rather imagine the exercises
of these monsters than to see them really going on."
"Come on, then," said the Very Imp, and he led the
way to the cave of the Ghastly Griffin.
The Bee-man went by himself through a great part
of the mountain, and looked into many of its gloomy
60


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
caves and recesses, recoiling in horror from most of
the dreadful monsters who met his eyes. While he
was wandering about, an awful roar was heard re-
sounding through the passages of the mountain, and
soon there came flapping along an enormous dragon,
with body black as night, and wings and tail of
fiery red. In his great fore-claws he bore a little
baby.
"Horrible!" exclaimed the Bee-man. "He is tak-
ing that little creature to some place to devour it."
He saw the dragon enter a cave not far away, and
following, looked in. The dragon was crouched upon
the ground, with the little baby lying before him. It
did not seem to be hurt, but was frightened and cry-
ing. The monster was looking upon it with delight,
as if he intended to make a dainty meal of it as soon
as his appetite should be a little stronger.
"It is too bad!" thought the Bee-man. "Somebody
ought to do something." And turning around, he ran
away as fast as he could.
He ran through various passages until he came to
the spot where he had left his beehive. Picking it
up, he hurried back, carrying the hive in his two
hands before him. When he reached the cave of the
dragon, he looked in and saw the monster still crouched
over the weeping child. Without a moment's hesita-
tion, the Bee-man rushed into the cave and threw his
hive straight into the face of the dragon. The bees,
enraged by the shock, rushed out in an angry crowd,
and immediately fell upon the head, mouth, eyes, and
nose of the dragon. The great monster, astounded by
this sudden attack, and driven almost wild by the
numberless stings of the bees, sprang back to the far-
61


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
thest portion of his cave, still followed by his relentless
enemies, at whom he flapped wildly with his great
wings and struck with his paws. While the dragon
was thus engaged with the bees, the Bee-man rushed
forward, seized the child, and hurried away. He
did not stop to pick up his doublet, but kept on until
he reached the entrance of the caves. There he saw
the Very Imp hopping along on one leg, and rubbing
his back and shoulders with his hands; he stopped to
inquire what was the matter, and what had become of
the Languid Youth.
"He is no kind of a fellow," said the Very Imp.
"He disappointed me dreadfully. I took him up to
the Ghastly Griffin, and told him the thing was en-
chanted, and that he might sit on its back and think
about what it could do if it were awake. But when
he came near it the wretched creature opened its eyes
and raised its head, and then you ought to have seen
how mad that simpleton was. He made a dash at me
and seized me by the ears. He kicked and beat me
till I can scarcely move."
"His energies must have been toned up a good deal,"
said the Bee-man.
"Toned up! I should say so!" cried the other. "I
raised a howl, and a Scissor-jawed Clipper came out of
his hole, and got after him. But that lazy fool ran so
fast he could not be caught."
The Bee-man now ran on, and soon overtook the
Languid Youth.
"You need not be in a hurry now," said the latter,
"for the rules of this institution don't allow the crea-
tures inside to come out of this opening, or to hang
around it. If they did, they would frighten away
62


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
visitors They go in and out of holes in the upper
part of the mountain."
The two proceeded on their way.
"What are you going to do with that baby?" said
the Languid Youth.
"I shall carry it along with me as I go on with my
search," said the Bee-man, "and perhaps I may find
its mother. If I do not, I shall give it to somebody
in the little village yonder. Anything would be better
than leaving it to be devoured by that horrid dragon."
"Let me carry it. I feel quite strong enough now
to carry a baby."
"Thank you," said the Bee-man, "but I can take it
myself. I like to carry something, and I have now
neither my hive nor my
doublet."
"It is very well that you had to leave them behind,"
said the Youth, "for the bees would have stung the
baby."
"My bees never sting babies," said the other.
"They probably never had a chance," remarked his
companion.
They soon entered the village, and after walking a
short distance the Youth exclaimed: "Do you see that
woman over there, sitting at the door of her house?
She has beautiful hair, and she is tearing it all to
pieces. She should not be allowed to do that."
"No," said the Bee-man. "Her friends should tie
her hands."
"Perhaps she is the mother of this child," said the
Youth, "and if you give it to her she will no longer
think of tearing her hair."
"But," said the Bee-man, "you don't really think
this is her child?"
63


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
"Suppose you go over and see," said the other.
The Bee-man hesitated a moment, and then he
walked toward the woman. Hearing him coming, she
raised her head, and when she saw the child she rushed
toward it, snatched it into her arms, and screaming
with joy, she covered it with kisses. Then with happy
tears she begged to know the story of the rescue of
her child, whom she never expected to see again.
She loaded the Bee-man with thanks and blessings;
the friends and neighbors gathered around and there
was great rejoicing. The mother urged the Bee-man
and the Youth to stay with her and rest and refresh
themselves, which they were glad to do, as they were
tired and hungry.
They remained at the cottage all night, and in the
afternoon of the next day the Bee-man said to the
Youth: "It may seem an odd thing to you, but never
in all my life have I felt myself drawn toward any liv-
ing being as I am drawn toward this baby. Therefore
I believe that I have been transformed from a baby."
"Good!" cried the Youth. "It is my opinion that
you have hit the truth. And would you really like to
be changed back to your original form?"
"Indeed I would!" said the Bee-man. "I have the
strongest yearning to be what I originally was."
The Youth, who had now lost every trace of languid
feeling, took a great interest in the matter, and early
the next morning started off to inform the Junior
Sorcerer that the Bee-man had discovered what he
had been transformed from, and desired to be changed
back to it.
The Junior Sorcerer and his learned masters were
filled with enthusiasm when they heard this report,
64


THE BEE-MAN OF ORN
and they at once set out for the mother's cottage,
where, by magic arts, the Bee-man was changed back
into a baby. The mother was so grateful for what the
Bee-man had done for her that she agreed to take
charge of this baby and to bring it up with her own.
"It will be a grand thing for him," said the Junior
Sorcerer, "and I am glad I studied his case. He
will now have a fresh start in life, and will have a
chance to become something better than a miserable
old man living in a wretched hut, with no friends or
companions but buzzing bees."
The Junior Sorcerer and his masters then returned
to their homes, happy in the success of their great
performance. And the Youth went back to his home
anxious to begin a life of activity and energy.
Years and years afterward, when the Junior Sor-
cerer had become a Senior and was very old indeed,
he passed through the country of Orn, and noticed a
small hut about which swarms of bees were flying.
He approached it, and looking in at the door, he saw
an old man in a leather doublet, sitting at a table,
eating honey. By his magic art he knew this was the
baby which had been transformed from the Bee-man.
"Upon my word!" exclaimed the Sorcerer, "he has
grown into the same thing again!”
65


1


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM


1
1


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
TH
a
HERE was once a queen who founded, in her
capital city, a grand museum. This institution
was the pride of her heart, and she devoted nearly all
her time to overseeing the collection of objects for it,
and their arrangement in the spacious halls. This
museum was intended to elevate the intelligence of
her people, but the result was quite disappointing to
the Queen. For some reason-and what it was she
could not imagine-the people were not interested in
her museum. She considered it the most delightful
place in the world, and spent hours every day in ex-
amining and studying the thousands of objects it con-
tained. But although here and there in the city there
was a person who cared to visit the collection, the
great body of the people found it impossible to feel
the slightest interest in it. At first this grieved the
Queen, and she tried to make her museum better. But
as this did no good, she became very angry, and she
issued a decree that all persons of mature age who
were not interested in her museum should be sent to
prison.
This decree produced a great sensation in the city.
The people crowded to the building, and did their
very best to be interested, but, in the majority of
69


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
cases, the attempt was an utter failure; they could
not feel any interest whatever. The consequence was
that hundreds and thousands of the people were sent
to prison, and as there was not room enough for them
in the ordinary jails, large temporary prisons were
erected in various parts of the city. Those persons
who were actually needed for work or service which
no one else could do were allowed to come out in the
daytime on parole, but at night they had to return to
their prisons.
It was during this deplorable state of affairs that a
stranger entered the city one day. He was surprised
at seeing so many prisons, and approaching a win-
dow in one of them, behind the bars of which he saw
a very respectable-looking citizen, he asked what all
this meant. The citizen informed him how matters
stood, and then, with tears mounting to his eyes, he
added:
"Oh, sir, I have tried my best to be interested in
that museum, but it is impossible. I cannot make
myself care for it in the slightest degree. What
is more, I know I shall never be able to do so, and I
shall languish here for the rest of my days."
Passing on, the Stranger met a mother coming out
of her house. Her face was pale, and she was weeping
bitterly. Filled with pity, he stopped and asked her
what was the matter. "Oh, sir," she said, "for a week
I have been trying, for the sake of my dear children,
to take an interest in that museum. For a time I
thought I might do it, but the hope proved false. It
is impossible. I must leave my little ones, and go to
prison."
The Stranger was deeply affected by these cases and
70


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
many others of a similar character which he soon
met. "It is too bad! too bad!" he said to himself.
"I never saw a city in so much trouble. There is
scarcely a family, I am told, in which there is not some
uninterested person. I must see the Queen and talk
to her about it." And with this he wended his way
to the palace.
He met the Queen just starting out on her morning
visit to the museum. When he made it known that
he was a stranger, and desired a short audience, she
stopped and spoke to him.
"Have you visited my museum yet?" she said.
"There is nothing in the city so well worth your at-
tention as that. You should go there before seeing
anything else. You have a high forehead and an in-
telligent expression, and I have no doubt that it will
interest you greatly. I am going there myself, and I
shall be glad to see what effect that fine collection has
upon a stranger."
This did not suit the Stranger at all. From what
he had heard he felt quite sure that if he went to the
museum he would soon be in jail, and so he hurried
to propose a plan which had occurred to him while on
his way to the palace.
"I came to see your Majesty on the subject of the
museum," he said, "and to crave permission to con-
tribute to the collection some objects which shall be
interesting to every one. I understand that it is
highly desirable that every one should be inter-
ested."
"Of course it is," said the Queen, "and although I
think that there is not the slightest reason why every
one should not feel the keenest interest in what the
71


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
museum already contains, I am willing to add to it
whatever may make it of greater value."
"In that case," said the Stranger, "no time should
be lost in securing what I wish to present."
"Go at once," said the Queen. "But how soon can
you return?”
"It will take some days, at least," said the Stranger.
"Give me your parole to return in a week," said
the Queen, "and start immediately."
The Stranger gave his parole and left the palace.
Having filled a leather bag with provisions from a
cook's shop, he went out of the city gates. As he
walked into the open country, he said to himself:
"I have certainly undertaken a very difficult enter-
prise. Where I am to find anything that will interest
all the people in that city I am sure I do not know;
but my heart is so filled with pity for the great num-
ber of unfortunate persons who are torn from their
homes and shut up in prison, that I am determined to
do something for them, if I possibly can. There must
be some objects to be found in this vast country that
will interest every one."
About noon he came to a great mountain-side
covered with a forest. Thinking that he was as likely
to find what he sought in one place as another, and
preferring the shade to the sun, he entered the forest,
and walked for some distance along a path which
gradually led up the mountain. Having crossed a
brook with its edges lined with water-cress, he soon
perceived a large cave, at the entrance of which sat
an aged hermit. "Ah," said the Stranger to himself,
"this is indeed fortunate! This good and venerable
man, who passes his life amid the secrets of nature,
72


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
can surely tell me what I wish to know." Saluting
the Hermit, he sat down and told the old man the
object of his quest.
"I am afraid you are looking for what you will not
find," said the Hermit. "Most people are too silly to
be truly interested in anything. They herd together
like cattle, and do not know what is good for them.
There are now on this mountain-side many commodi-
ous and comfortable caves, all of which would be
tenanted if people only knew how improving and in-
teresting it is to live apart from their fellow-men.
But, so far as it can be done, I will help you in your
quest, which I think is a worthy one. I can do
nothing for you myself, but I have a pupil who is very
much given to wandering about and looking for
curious things. He may tell you where you will be
able to find something that will interest everybody,
though I doubt it. You may go and see him, if you
like, and I will excuse him from his studies for a time,
so that he may aid you in your search."
The Hermit then wrote an excuse upon a piece of
parchment, and giving it to the Stranger, he directed
him to the cave of his pupil.
This was situated at some distance, and higher up
the mountain, and when the Stranger reached it, he
found the Pupil fast asleep upon the ground. This
individual was a long-legged youth, with long arms,
long hair, a long nose, and a long face. When the
Stranger awakened him, told him why he had come,
and gave him the Hermit's excuse, the sleepy eyes
of the Pupil brightened, and his face grew less
long.
"That's delightful," he said, "to be let off on a
73


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
Monday, for I generally have to be satisfied with a
half-holiday Wednesdays and Saturdays."
"Is the Hermit very strict with you?" asked the
Stranger.
"Yes," said the Pupil. "I have to stick closely to
the cave, though I have been known to go fishing on
days when there was no holiday. I have never seen
the old man but once, and that was when he first took
me. You know it wouldn't do for us to be too so-
ciable. That wouldn't be hermit-like. He comes up
here on the afternoons I am out, and writes down
what I am to do for the next half-week."
"And do you always do it?" asked the Stranger.
"Oh, I get some of it done,” said the Pupil. "But
there have been times when I have wondered whether
it wouldn't have been better for me to have been some-
thing else. But I have chosen my profession, and I
suppose I must be faithful to it. We will start im-
mediately on our search; but first I must put the cave
in order, for the old man will be sure to come up while
I am gone."
So saying, the Pupil opened an old parchment book
at a marked page, and laid it on a flat stone which
served as a table, and then placed a skull and a couple
of bones in a proper position near by.
The two now started off, the Pupil first putting a
line and hook in his pocket, and pulling out a fishing-
rod from under some bushes.
"What do you want with that?" asked the Stranger.
"We are not going to fish!"
"Why not?" said the Pupil. "If we come to a good
place, we might catch something that would be a real
curiosity."
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
Before long they came to a mountain brook, and
here the Pupil insisted on trying his luck. The
Stranger was a little tired and hungry, and so was
quite willing to sit down for a time and eat something
from his bag. The Pupil ran off to find some bait,
and he stayed away so long that the Stranger had
quite finished his meal before he returned. He
came back at last, however, in a state of great ex-
citement.
"Come with me! come with me!" he cried. "I
have found something that is truly astonishing! Come
quickly!"
The Stranger arose and hurried after the Pupil,
whose long legs carried him rapidly over the moun-
tain-side. Reaching a large hole at the bottom of a
precipitous rock, the Pupil stopped, and exclaiming,
"Come in here and I will show you something that
will amaze you!" he immediately entered the hole.
The Stranger, who was very anxious to see what
curiosity he had found, followed him some distance
along a narrow and winding underground passage.
The two suddenly emerged into a high and spacious
cavern, which was lighted by openings in the roof.
On the floor, in various places, were strongly fastened
boxes, and packages of many sorts, bales and bundles
of silks and rich cloths, with handsome caskets, and
many other articles of value.
"What kind of a place is this?" exclaimed the
Stranger, in great surprise.
"Don't you know?" cried the Pupil, his eyes fairly
sparkling with delight. "It is a robber's den! Isn't
it a great thing to find a place like this?"
"A robber's den!" exclaimed the Stranger, in alarm.
75


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
"Let us get out of it as quickly as we can, or the
robbers will return, and we shall be cut to pieces."
"I don't believe they are coming back very soon,"
said the Pupil, "and we ought to stop and take a look
at some of these things."
"Fly, you foolish youth!" cried the Stranger. "You
do not know what danger you are in." So saying,
he turned to hasten away from the place.
But he was too late. At that moment the robber
Captain and his band entered the cave. When these
men perceived the Stranger and the Hermit's Pupil,
they drew their swords and were about to rush upon
them, when the Pupil sprang forward and, throwing
up his long arms, exclaimed:
"Stop! it is a mistake!"
At these words, the robber Captain lowered his
sword, and motioned to his men to halt. "A mis-
take!" he said. "What do you mean by that?”
"I mean," said the Pupil, "that I was out looking
for curiosities, and wandered into this place by acci-
dent. We haven't taken a thing. You may count
your goods, and you will find nothing missing. We
have not even opened a box, although I very much
wanted to see what was in some of them."
"Are his statements correct?" said the Captain,
turning to the Stranger.
"Entirely so," was the answer.
"You have truthful features and an honest expres-
sion," said the Captain, "and I do not believe you
would be so dishonorable as to creep in here during
our absence and steal our possessions. Your lives
shall be spared, but you will be obliged to remain with
us, for we cannot allow any one who knows our secret
76


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
to leave us. You shall be treated well, and shall ac-
company us in our expeditions. And if your conduct
merits it, you shall in time be made full members."
Bitterly the Stranger now regretted his unfortunate
position. He strode up and down one side of the
cave, vowing inwardly that never again would he
allow himself to be led by a Hermit's Pupil. That
individual, however, was in a state of high delight.
He ran about from box to bale, looking at the rare
treasures which some of the robbers showed him.
The two captives were fed and lodged very well,
and the next day the Captain called them and the
band together, and addressed them.
"We are now twenty-nine in number," he said,-
"twenty-seven full members, and two on probation.
To-night we are about to undertake a very important
expedition, in which we shall all join. We shall fasten
up the door of the cave, and at the proper time I
shall tell you to what place we are going."
An hour or two before midnight the band set out,
accompanied by the Stranger and the Hermit's Pupil,
and when they had gone some miles the Captain halted
them to inform them of the object of the expedition.
"We are going,” he said, "to rob the Queen's museum.
It is the most important business we have ever under-
taken."
At these words the Stranger stepped forward and
made a protest. "I left the city yesterday," he said,
"commissioned by the Queen to obtain one or more
objects of interest for her museum; and to return
now to rob an institution which I have promised to
enrich will be simply impossible."
"You are right," said the Captain, after a moment's
77


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
reflection; "such an action would be highly dishonor-
able on your part. If you will give me your word of
honor that you will remain by this stone until our
return, the expedition will proceed without you."
The Stranger gave his word, and having been left
sitting upon the stone, soon dropped asleep, and so
remained until he was awakened by the return of the
band, a little before daylight. They came slowly toiling
along, each man carrying an enormous bundle upon
his back. Near the end of the line was the Hermit's
Pupil, bearing a load as heavy as any of the others.
The Stranger offered to relieve him for a time of his
burden, but the Pupil would not allow it.
"I don't wish these men to think I can't do as much
as they can," he said. "You ought to have been along.
We had a fine time! We swept that museum clean,
I tell you! We didn't leave a thing on a shelf or in
a case."
"What sort of things are they?" asked the Stranger.
"I don't know," replied the Pupil. "We didn't have
any light for fear people would notice it, but the moon
shone in bright enough for us to see all the shelves
and the cases, and our orders were not to try and ex-
amine anything, but to take all that was there. The
cases had great cloth covers on them, and we spread
these on the floor and made bundles of the curiosities.
We are going to examine them carefully as soon as we
get to the den.”
It was broad daylight when the robbers reached
their cave. The bundles were laid in a great circle on
the floor, and, at a given signal, they were opened.
For a moment each robber gazed blankly at the con-
tents of his bundle, and then they all began to fumble
78


THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
and search among the piles of articles upon the cloths;
but after a few minutes they arose, looking blanker
and more disappointed than before.
"So far as I can see," said the Captain, "there is
nothing in the whole collection that I care for. I do
not like a thing here!"
"Nor I!"
"Nor I!" "Nor I!" cried each one of
his band.
"I suppose," said the Captain, after musing for a
moment, "that as these things are of no use to us, we
are bound in honor to take them back."
"Hold!" said the Stranger, stepping forward. "Do
not be in too great a hurry to do that." He then told
the Captain of the state of affairs in the city, and ex-
plained in full the nature of the expedition he had
undertaken for the Queen. "I think it would be
better," he said, "if these things were not taken back
for the present. If you have a safe place where you
can put them, I will in due time tell the Queen where
they are, and if she chooses she can send for them."
"Good!" said the Captain. "It is but right that she
should bear part of the labor of transportation. There
is a disused cave a mile or so away, and we will tie up
these bundles and carry them there, and then we shall
leave the matter to you. We take no further interest
in it. And if you have given your parole to the Queen
to return in a week," the Captain further continued,
"of course you'll have to keep it. Did you give your
parole also?" he asked, turning to the Pupil.
"Oh, no!” cried that youth, "there was no time
fixed for my return. And I am sure that I like a
robber's life much better than that of a hermit. There
is ever so much more spice and dash in it."
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
The Stranger was then told that if he would prom-
ise not to betray the robbers he might depart. He
gave the promise, but added sadly that he had lost so
much time that he was afraid he would not now be
able to attain the object of his search and return within
the week.
"If that is the case," said the Captain, "we will
gladly assist you. Comrades!" he cried, addressing
his band, "after stowing this useless booty in the dis-
used cave, and taking some rest and refreshment, we
will set out again, and the object of our expedition
shall be to obtain something for the Queen's museum
which will interest every one."
Shortly after midnight the robbers set out, accom-
panied by the Stranger and the Pupil. When they
had walked about an hour, the Captain, as was his
custom, brought them to a halt, that he might tell
them where they were going. "I have concluded,"
said he, "that no place is so likely to contain what we
are looking for as the castle of the great magician,
Alfrarmedj. We will, therefore, proceed thither, and
sack the castle."
"Will there not be great danger in attacking the
castle of a magician?" asked the Stranger, in somewhat
anxious tones.
"Of course there will be," said the Captain, "but we
are not such cowards as to hesitate on account of dan-
ger. Forward, my men !" And on they all marched.
When they reached the magician's castle, the order
was given to scale the outer wall. This the robbers
did with great agility, and the Hermit's Pupil was
among the first to surmount it. But the Stranger was
not used to climbing, and he had to be assisted over
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
the wall. Inside the great courtyard they perceived
numbers of Weirds-strange, shadowy creatures who
gathered silently around them. But, not in the least
appalled, the robbers formed into a body and marched
into the castle, the door of which stood open. They
now entered a great hall having at one end a doorway
before which hung a curtain. Following their Cap-
tain, the robbers approached this curtain, and pushing
it aside, entered the room beyond. There, behind a
large table, sat the great magician, Alfrarmedj, busy
over his mystic studies, which he generally pursued
in the dead hours of the night. Drawing their swords,
the robbers rushed upon him.
"Surrender!" cried the Captain, "and deliver to us
the treasures of your castle."
The old magician raised his head from his book, and
pushing up his spectacles from his forehead, looked at
them mildly, and said:
"Freeze!"
Instantly they all froze as hard as ice, each man
remaining in the position in which he was when the
magical word was uttered. With uplifted swords and
glaring eyes, they stood, rigid and stiff, before the
magician. After calmly surveying the group, the old
man said:
"I see among you one who has an intelligent brow
and truthful expression. His head may thaw suffi-
ciently for him to tell me what means this untimely
intrusion upon my studies."
The Stranger now felt his head begin to thaw, and
in a few moments he was able to speak. He then told
the magician about the Queen's museum, and how it
had happened that he had come there with the robbers.
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
"Your motive is a good one," said the magician,
"though your actions are somewhat erratic, and I do
not mind helping you to find what you wish. In what
class of objects do the people of the city take the most
interest?"
"Truly I do not know," said the Stranger.
"This is indeed surprising!" exclaimed Alfrarmedj.
"How can you expect to obtain that which will in-
terest every one, when you do not know what it is in
which every one takes an interest? Go find out this,
and then return to me, and I will see what can be
done."
The magician then summoned his Weirds, and or-
dered them to carry the frozen visitors outside the
castle walls. Each one of the rigid figures was taken
up by two Weirds, who carried him out and stood him
up in the road outside the castle. When all had been
properly set up, with the Captain at their head, the
gates were shut, and the magician, still sitting at his
table, uttered the word "Thaw!"
Instantly the whole band thawed and marched
away. At daybreak they halted, and considered how
they should find out what all the people in the city
took an interest in.
"One thing is certain," cried the Hermit's Pupil :
"whatever it is, it isn't the same thing."
"Your remark is not well put together," said the
Stranger, "but I see the force of it. It is true that
different people like different things.
we find out what the different people like?”
"By asking them," said the Pupil.
But how shall
"Good!" cried the Captain, who preferred action to
words. "This night we will ask them."
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
He then drew upon the sand a plan of the city,-
with which he was quite familiar, having carefully
robbed it for many years,—and divided it into twenty-
eight sections, each one of which was assigned to a
man. "I omit you," the Captain said to the Stranger,
"because I find that you are not expert at climbing."
He then announced that at night the band would visit
the city, and that each man should enter the houses in
his district, and ask the people what it was in which
they took the greatest interest.
They then proceeded to the cave for rest and re-
freshment, and a little before midnight they entered
the city, and each member of the band, including the
Hermit's Pupil, proceeded to attend to the business
assigned to him. It was ordered that no one should
disturb the Queen, for they knew that what she took
most interest in was the museum. During the night
nearly every person in the town was aroused by a
black-bearded robber, who had climbed into one of
the windows of the house, and who, instead of de-
manding money and jewels, simply asked what it was
in which that person took the greatest interest. Upon
receiving an answer, the robber repeated it until he
had learned it by heart, and then went to the next
house. As so many of the citizens were confined in
prisons, which the robbers easily entered, they trans-
acted the business in much less time than they would
otherwise have required.
The Hermit's Pupil was very active, climbing into
and out of houses with great agility. He obtained his
answers quite as easily as did the others, but when-
ever he left a house there was a shade of disappoint-
ment upon his features. Among the last places that
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
he visited was a room in which two boys were sleep-
ing. He awoke them and asked the usual question.
While they were trembling in their bed, not knowing
what to answer, the Pupil drew his sword and ex-
claimed: "Come, now, no prevarication. You know
it's fishing-tackle. Speak out!" Each of the boys
then promptly declared it was fishing-tackle, and the
Pupil left, greatly gratified. "I was very much
afraid,” he said to himself, "that not a person in my
district would say fishing-tackle, and I am glad to
think that there were two boys who had sense enough
to like something that is really interesting."
It was nearly daylight when the work was finished,
and then the band gathered together in an appointed
place on the outside of the city, where the Stranger
awaited them. Each of the men had an excellent
memory, which was necessary in their profession, and
they repeated to the Stranger all the objects and sub-
jects that had been mentioned to them, and he wrote
them down upon tablets.
The next night, accompanied by the band, he pro-
ceeded to the castle of the magician, the great gate of
which was silently opened for them by the Weirds.
When they were ushered into the magician's room,
Alfrarmedj took the tablets from the Stranger and
examined them carefully.
"All these things should make a very complete col-
lection," he said, "and I think I have specimens of
the various objects in my interminable vaults." He
then called his Weirds, and giving one of them the
tablets, told him to go with his companions into the
vaults and gather enough of the things therein men-
tioned to fill a large museum. In half an hour the
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
Weirds returned and announced that the articles were
ready in the great courtyard.
"Go, then," said the magician, "and assist these men
to carry them to the Queen's museum."
The Stranger then heartily thanked Alfrarmedj for
the assistance he had given, and the band, accompanied
by a number of Weirds, proceeded to carry the ob-
jects of interest to the Queen's museum.
It was a
strange procession. Half a dozen Weirds carried a
stuffed mammoth, followed by others bearing the
skeleton of a whale, while the robbers and the rest of
their queer helpers were loaded with everything re-
lating to history, science, and art which ought to be
in a really good museum. When the whole collection
had been put in place upon the floors, the shelves, and
in the cases, it was nearly morning. The robbers,
with the Hermit's Pupil, retired to the cave, the
Weirds disappeared, while the Stranger betook himself
to the Queen's palace, where, as soon as the proper
hour arrived, he requested an audience.
When he saw the Queen, he perceived that she was
very pale and that her cheeks bore traces of recent
tears. "You are back in good time," she said to him,
"but it makes very little difference whether you have
succeeded in your mission or not. There is no longer
any museum. There has been a great robbery, and
the thieves have carried off the whole of the vast and
valuable collection which I have been so long in
making."
"I know of that affair," said the Stranger, "and I
have already placed in your museum building the
collection I have obtained. If your Majesty pleases,
I shall be glad to have you look at it. It may,
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
in some degree, compensate for that which has been
stolen."
"Compensate!" cried the Queen. "Nothing can
compensate for it. I do not even wish to see what
you have brought."
"Be that as your Majesty pleases," said the Stranger;
"but I will be so bold as to say that I have great hopes
that the collection I have obtained will interest the
people. Will your Majesty graciously allow them to
see it?"
"I have no objection to that," said the Queen.
"Indeed, I shall be very glad if they can be made
to be interested in the museum. I will give orders
that the prisons be opened, so that everybody can go
to see what you have brought. And those who shall
be interested in it may return to their homes. I did
not release my obstinate subjects when the museum
was robbed, because their fault then was just as great
as it was before, and it would not be right that they
should profit by my loss."
The Queen's proclamation was made, and for several
days the museum was crowded with people moving
from morning till night through the vast collection of
stuffed animals, birds, and fishes, rare and brilliant
insects, mineral and vegetable curiosities, beautiful
works of art, and all the strange, valuable, and instruc-
tive objects which had been brought from the inter-
minable vaults of the magician Alfrarmedj. The
Queen's officers, who had been sent to observe whether
or not the people were interested, were in no doubt
upon this point. Every eye sparkled with delight,
for every one found something which was the very
thing he wished to see. And in the throng was the
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
Hermit's Pupil, standing in rapt ecstasy before a large
case containing all sorts of fishing-tackle, from the
smallest hooks for little minnows to the great irons
and spears used in capturing whales.
No one went back to prison, and the city was full
of reunited households and happy homes. On the
morning of the fourth day, a grand procession of citi-
zens came to the palace to express to the Queen their
delight and appreciation of her museum.
The great
happiness of her subjects could but please the Queen.
She called the Stranger to her, and said to him:
"Tell me how you came to know what it was that
would interest my people."
"I asked them," said the Stranger; "that is to say,
I arranged that they should be asked."
"That was well done," said the Queen. "But it is
a great pity that my long labors in their behalf should
have been lost. For many years I have been a col-
lector of buttonholes, and there was nothing valuable
or rare in the line of my studies of which I had not
an original specimen or a facsimile. My agents
brought me from foreign lands, even from the most
distant islands of the sea, buttonholes of every kind,
in silk, in wool, in cloth of gold, in every imaginable
material, and of those which could not be obtained
careful copies were made. There was not a duplicate
specimen in the whole collection, only one of each
kind, nothing repeated. Never before was there such
a museum. With all my power I strove to educate
my people up to an appreciation of buttonholes, but,
with the exception of a few tailors and seamstresses,
nobody took the slightest interest in what I had pro-
vided for their benefit. I am glad that my people are
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
happy, but I cannot restrain a sigh for the failure of
my efforts."
"The longer your Majesty lives," said the Stranger,
"the better you will understand that we cannot make
other people like a thing simply because we like it
ourselves."
"Stranger," said the Queen, gazing upon him with
admiration, "are you a king in disguise?"
"I am,” he replied.
"I thought I perceived it," said the Queen, "and I
wish to add that I believe you are far better able to
govern this kingdom than I am. If you choose I will
resign it to you."
"Not so, your Majesty," said the other. "I would
not deprive you of your royal position, but I should
be happy to share it with you."
"That will answer very well," said the Queen. And
turning to an attendant, she gave orders that prepara-
tions should be made for their marriage on the fol-
lowing day.
After the royal wedding, which was celebrated with
great pomp and grandeur, the Queen paid a visit to
the museum, and, much to her surprise, was greatly
delighted and interested. The King then informed
her that he happened to know where the robbers had
stored her collection, which they could not sell or make
use of, and, if she wished, he would regain the collec-
tion and erect a building for its reception.
"We will not do that at present," said the Queen.
"When I shall have thoroughly examined and studied
all these objects, most of which are entirely new to
me, we will decide about the buttonholes."
The Hermit's Pupil did not return to his cave. He
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
was greatly delighted with the spice and dash of a
robber's life, so different from that of a hermit, and he
determined, if possible, to change his business and
enter the band. He had a conversation with the Cap-
tain on the subject, and that individual encouraged
him in his purpose.
"I am tired," the Captain said, "of a robber's life.
I have stolen so much that I cannot use what I have.
I take no further interest in accumulating spoils. The
quiet of a hermit's life attracts me, and, if you like, we
will change places. I will become the pupil of your
old master, and you shall be the captain of my band."
The change was made. The Captain retired to the
cave of the Hermit's Pupil, while the latter, with the
hearty consent of all the men, took command of the
band of robbers.
When the King heard of this change, he was not at
all pleased, and he sent for the ex-Pupil.
"I am willing to reward you," he said, "for assisting
me in my recent undertaking, but I cannot allow you
to lead a band of robbers in my dominions."
A dark shade of disappointment passed over the
ex-Pupil's features, and his face lengthened visibly.
"It is too bad," he said, "to be thus cut short at the
very outset of a brilliant career. I'll tell you what
I'll do," he added suddenly, his face brightening; "if
you'll let me keep on in my new profession, I'll
promise to do nothing but rob robbers."
"Very well," said the King, "if you will confine
yourself to that, you may retain your position.”
The members of the band were perfectly willing to
rob in the new way, for it seemed quite novel and ex-
citing to them. The first place they robbed was their
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THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM
own cave, and as they all had excellent memories,
they knew from whom the various goods had been
stolen, and everything was returned to its proper
owner. The ex-Pupil then led his band against the
other dens of robbers in the kingdom, and his move-
ments were conducted with such dash and vigor that
the various hordes scattered in every direction, while
the treasures in their dens were returned to the own-
ers, or, if these could not be found, were given to the
poor. In a short time every robber, except those led
by the ex-Pupil, had gone into some other business,
and the victorious youth led his band into other king-
doms to continue the great work of robbing robbers.
The Queen never sent for the collection of curiosi-
ties which the robbers had stolen from her.
She was
so much interested in the new museum that she con-
tinually postponed the reëstablishment of her old one,
and, as far as can be known, the buttonholes are still
in the cave where the robbers shut them up.
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE


(


THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
ENTURIES ago, there stood on the banks of a
CEN
was a long and winding stream which ran through dif-
ferent countries, and was sometimes narrow and swift,
and sometimes broad and placid; sometimes hurrying
through mountain passes, and again meandering
quietly through fertile plains; in some places of a
blue color and almost transparent, and in others of a
dark and sombre hue; and so it changed and changed
until it threw itself into a warm, far-spreading sea.
But it was quite otherwise with the little town. As
far back as anybody could remember, it had always
been the same that it was at the time of our story,
and the people who lived there could see no reason to
suppose that it would ever be different from what it
was then. It was a pleasant little town, its citizens
were very happy, and why there should be any change
in it, the most astute old man in all Rondaine could
not have told you.
If Rondaine had been famed for anything at all, it
would have been for the number of its clocks. It had
many churches, some little ones in dark side streets,
and some larger ones in wider thoroughfares, besides,
here and there, a very good-sized church fronting on
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
a park or open square; and in the steeple of each of
these churches there was a clock. There were town
buildings, very old ones, which stood upon the great
central square. Each of these had a tower, and in
each tower was a clock. Then, there were clocks at
street corners; two clocks in the market-place;
clocks over shop doors; a clock at each end of the
bridge, and several large clocks a little way out of
town. Many of these clocks were fashioned in some
quaint and curious way. In one of the largest a stone
man came out and struck the hours with a stone ham-
mer, while a stone woman struck the half-hours with
a stone broom. In another an iron donkey kicked
the hours on a bell behind him. It would be impos-
sible to tell all the odd ways in which the clocks of
Rondaine struck. But in one respect they were alike :
they all did strike. The good people of the town
would not have tolerated a clock which did not strike.
It was very interesting to lie awake in the night
and hear the clocks of Rondaine strike. First would
come a faint striking from one of the churches in the
by-streets-a modest sound, as if the clock was not sure
whether it was too early or not; then from another
quarter would be heard a more confident clock strik-
ing the hour clearly and distinctly. When they were
quite ready, but not a moment, before, the seven bells
of the large church on the square would chime the
hour, after which, at a respectful interval of time, the
other church clocks of the town would strike. After
the lapse of three or four minutes, the sound of all
these bells seemed to wake up the stone man in the
tower of the town building, and he struck the hour
with his hammer. When this had been done, the other
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
So.
municipal clocks felt at liberty to strike, and they did
And when every sound had died away, so that he
would be certain to be heard if there was any one
awake to hear, it would be very likely that the iron
donkey would kick out the hour on his bell, though
there were times when he kicked before any of the
clocks began to strike. One by one the clocks on the
street corners struck, the up-town ones first, and after-
wards those near the river. These were followed by
the two clocks on the bridge, the one at the country
end waiting until it was quite sure that the one at the
town end had finished. Somewhat later would be
heard the clock of Vougereau, an old country house
in the suburbs. This clock, a very large one, was on
the top of a great square stone tower, and from its age
it had acquired a habit of deliberation, so that when
it began to strike people were very apt to think it
was one o'clock, until, after a considerable interval,
another stroke would assure them that it was later or
earlier than that, and if they really wanted to know
what hour the old clock was striking they must give
themselves time enough to listen until they were en-
tirely certain it had finished.
The very last clock to strike in Rondaine was one
belonging to a little old lady with white hair, who
lived in a little white house in one of the prettiest and
cleanest streets in the town. Her clock was in a little
white tower at the corner of her house, and was the
only strictly private clock which was in the habit of
making itself publicly heard. Long after every other
clock had struck, and when there was every reason to
believe that for a considerable time nothing but half-
hours would be heard in Rondaine, the old lady's clock
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
would strike quickly and decisively, and with a con-
fident tone, as if it knew it was right, and wished every-
body to know that it knew.
In an unpretentious house which stood on a corner
of two of the smaller streets in the town lived a young
girl named Arla. For a year or more Arla had been
in the habit of waking up very early in the morning,
sometimes long before daylight, and it had become a
habit with her to lie and listen to the clocks. Her
room was at the top of the house, and one of its win-
dows opened to the west and another to the south, so
that sounds entered from different quarters. Arla
liked to leave these windows open so that the sounds
of the clocks might come in.
Arla knew every clock by its tone, and she always
made it a point to lie awake until she was positively
sure that the last stroke of the clock at Vougereau
had sounded. But it often happened that sleep over-
came her before she heard the clock of the little old
lady with white hair. It was so very long to wait for
that!
It was not because she wanted to know the hour
that Arla used to lie and listen to the clocks. She had
a little clock of her own, which stood in her room,
and on which she depended for correct information
regarding the time of day or night. This clock, which
had been given to her when she was a small girl,
not only struck the hours and half-hours and quarter-
hours, but there was attached to it a very pretty piece
of mechanism which also indicated the time. On the
front of the clock, just below the dial, was a sprig of
a rose-bush beautifully made of metal, and on this, just
after the hour had sounded, there was a large green
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
bud. At a quarter past the hour this bud opened a
little, so that the red petals could be seen. Fifteen
minutes later it was a half-blown rose, and at a quarter
of an hour more it was nearly full blown. Just before
the hour the rose opened to its fullest extent, and so
remained until the clock had finished striking, when
it immediately shut up into a great green bud. This
clock was a great delight to Arla, for not only was it
a very pleasant thing to watch the unfolding of the
rose, but it was a continual satisfaction to her to think
that her little clock always told her exactly what time
it was, no matter what the other clocks of Rondaine
might say.
Arla's father and mother were thrifty, industrious
people, who were very fond of their daughter. They
not only taught her how to employ herself usefully,
but insisted that she should take the recreation and
exercise that a young girl ought to have. All day she
was so occupied with work or play that she had little
opportunity of thinking for herself. But even if they
had considered the matter, this fact would not have
troubled her parents, as they looked upon Arla as en-
tirely too young for that sort of thing. In the very
early morning, however, listening to the clocks of
Rondaine or waiting for them, Arla did a great deal
of thinking. And it so happened, on the morning of
the day before Christmas, when the stars were bright
and the air frosty, and every outside sound very clear
and distinct, that Arla began to think of something
which had never entered her mind before.
"How in the world," she said to herself, "do the
people of Rondaine know when it is really Christmas?
Christmas begins as soon as it is twelve o'clock on
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
Christmas eve, but as some of the people depend for
the time upon one clock and some upon others, a great
many of them cannot truly know when Christmas day
has really begun. Even some of the church clocks
make people think that Christmas has come when,
in reality, it is yet the day before. Not one of them
strikes at the right time! As for that iron donkey,
I believe he kicks whenever he feels like it. And yet
there are people who go by him! I know this, for
they have told me so. But the little old lady with
white hair is worse off than anybody else. Christmas
must always come ever so long before she knows it."
With these important thoughts on her mind, Arla
could not go to sleep again. She heard all the clocks
strike, and lay awake until her own little clock told
her that she ought to get up. During this time she
had made up her mind what she should do. There
was yet one day before Christmas, and if the people of
the town could be made to see in what a deplorable
condition they were on account of the difference in
their clocks, they might have time to rectify the mat-
ter so that all the clocks should strike the correct hour,
and everybody should know exactly when Christmas
day began. She was sure the citizens had never
given this matter proper consideration, and it was
quite natural that such should be the case, for it was
not every one who was in the habit of lying awake in
the very early morning; and in the daytime, with all
the outdoor noises, one could not hear all the clocks
strike in Rondaine. Arla, therefore, thought that a
great deal depended upon her, for she knew exactly
how this matter stood.
When she went down to breakfast she asked per-
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
mission of her mother to take a day's holiday. As she
was a good girl, and never neglected either her lessons
or her tasks, her mother was quite willing to give her
the day before Christmas in which she could do as she
pleased, and she did not think it necessary to ask if she
intended to spend it in any particular way.
The day was cool, but the sun shone brightly and
the air was pleasant. In the country round about
Rondaine, Christmas-time was not a very cold season.
Arla put on a warm jacket and a pretty blue hood,
and started out gayly to attend to the business in hand.
Everybody in Rondaine knew her father and mother,
and a great many of them knew her, so there was no
reason why she should be afraid to go where she chose.
In one hand she carried a small covered basket in
which she had placed her rose-clock. The works of
this little clock were moved and regulated like those
of a watch, and therefore it could be carried about
without stopping it.
The first place she visited was the church at which
she and her parents always attended service. It was
a small building in a little square at the bottom of a
hill, and to reach it one had to go down a long flight
of stone steps. When she entered the dimly lighted
church, Arla soon saw the sacristan, a pleasant-faced
little old man whom she knew very well.
"Good morning, sir," said she. "Do you take care
of the church clock?"
The sacristan was sweeping the stone pavement of
the church, just inside the door. He stopped and
leaned upon his broom. "Yes, my little friend," he
said, "I take care of everything here except the souls
of the people."
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
"Well, then," said Arla, "I think you ought to know
that your clock is eleven minutes too fast. I came
here to tell you that, so that you might change it, and
make it strike properly."
The sacristan's eyes began to twinkle. He was a
man of merry mood. "That is very good of you, little
Arla-very good indeed. And now that we are about
it, isn't there something else you would like to change?
What do you say to having these stone pillars put to
one side, so that they may be out of the way of the
people when they come in? Or those great beams in
the roof? They might be turned over, and perhaps we
might find that the upper side would look fresher than
this lower part, which is somewhat time-stained, as
you see. Or, for the matter of that, what do you say
to having our clock-tower taken down and set out
there in the square before the church door? Then
short-sighted people could see the time much better,
don't you think? Now tell me, shall we do all these
things together, wise little friend?"
A tear or two came into Arla's eyes, but she made
no answer.
"Good morning, sir," she said, and went away.
"I suppose," she said to herself, as she ran up the
stone steps, "that he thought it would be too much
trouble to climb to the top of the tower to set the clock
right. But that was no reason why he should make
fun of me.
I don't like him as much as I used
to."
The next church to which Arla went was a large
one, and it was some time before she could find the
sacristan. At last she saw him in a side chapel at the
upper end of the church, engaged in dusting some old
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
books. He was a large man with a red face, and he
turned around quickly, with a stern expression, as she
entered.
"Please, sir," said Arla, "I came to tell you that
your church clock is wrong. It strikes from four to
six minutes before it ought to, sometimes the one and
sometimes the other. It should be changed so that it
will be sure to strike at the right time."
The face of the sacristan grew redder and twitched
visibly at her remark.
"Do you know what I wish?" he almost shouted
in reply.
"No, sir," answered Arla.
"I wish," he said, "that you were a boy, so that I
might take you by the collar and soundly cuff your
ears, for coming here to insult an officer of the church
in the midst of his duties! But, as you are a girl, I
can only tell you to go away from here as rapidly and
as quietly as you can, or I shall have to put you in the
hands of the ecclesiastical authorities!"
Arla was truly frightened, and although she did not
run,—for she knew that would not be proper in a
church,--she walked as fast as she could into the outer
air.
"What a bad man," she then said to herself, "to be
employed in a church! It surely is not known what
sort of person he is, or he would not be allowed to
stay there a day!"
Arla thought she would not go to any more churches
at present, for she did not know what sort of sacristans
she might find in them.
"When the other clocks in the town all strike prop-
erly," she thought, "it is most likely they will know
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
for themselves that their clocks are wrong, and they
will have them changed."
She now made her way to the great square of the
town, and entered the building at the top of which
stood the stone man with his hammer. She found the
concierge, or doorkeeper, in a little room by the side
of the entrance. She knew where to go, for she had
been there with her mother to ask permission to go up
and see the stone man strike the hour with his ham-
mer, and the stone woman strike the half-hour with
her broom.
The concierge was a grave, middle-aged man with
spectacles, and, remembering what had just happened,
Arla thought she would be careful how she spoke to
him.
"If you please, sir," she said, with a courtesy, “I
should like to say something to you, and I hope you
will not be offended when I tell you that your clock
is not quite right. Your stone man and your stone
woman are both too slow. They sometimes strike as
much as seven minutes after they ought to strike.”
The grave, middle-aged man looked steadily at her
through his spectacles.
"I thought," continued Arla, "that if this should be
made known to you, you would have the works of the
stone man and the stone woman altered so that they
might strike at the right time. They can be heard so
far, you know, that it is very necessary they should
not make mistakes."
"Child," said the man, with his spectacles still
steadily fixed on her, "for one hundred and fifty-seven
years the open tower on this building has stood here.
For one hundred and fifty-seven years the thunder
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
and the lightning in time of storm have roared and
flashed around it, and the sun in time of fair weather
has shone upon it. In that century and a half and
seven years, men and women have lived and have died,
and their children and their grandchildren and their
great-grandchildren, and even the children of these,
have lived and died after them. Kings and queens
have passed away, one after another, and all things
living have grown old and died, one generation after
another, many times. Yet, through all these years,
that stone man and that stone woman have stood up
there, and in storm and in fair weather, by daylight
or in the darkness of night, they have struck the hours
and the half-hours. Of all things which, one hundred
and fifty-seven years ago, were able to lift an arm to
strike, they alone are left. And now you, a child of
thirteen or perhaps fourteen years, come to me and
ask me to change that which has not been changed for
a century and a half and seven years!"
Arla could answer nothing with those spectacles
fixed upon her. They seemed to glare more and more
as she looked at them. "Good morning, sir," she said,
dropping a courtesy as she moved backward toward
the door. Reaching it, she turned and hurried into
the street.
"If those stone people," she thought, "have not been
altered in all these years, it is likely they would now
be striking two or three hours out of the way! But
I don't know. If they kept on going slow for more
than a century, they must have come around to the
right hour sometimes. But they will have to strike
ever and ever so much longer before they come around
there again!"
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
Arla now walked on until she came to a street cor-
ner where a cobbler had a little shop. In the angle
of the wall of the house, at the height of the second
story, was a clock. This cobbler did not like the con-
fined air and poor light of his shop, and whenever the
weather allowed he always worked outside on the side-
walk. To-day, although it was winter, the sun shone
brightly on this side of the street, and he had put his
bench outside, close to his door, and was sitting there,
hard at work. When Arla stopped before him he
looked up and said cheerfully:
"Good morning, Mistress Arla. Do you want them
half-soled, or heeled, or a patch put on the toes?"
"My shoes do not need mending," said Arla. "I
came to ask you if you could tell me who has charge
of the clock at this corner."
"I can easily do that," he said, "for I am the man.
I am paid by the year, for winding it up and keep-
ing it in order, as much as I should get for putting
the soles, heels, tops, linings, and buckles on a pair of
shoes."
"Which means making them out and out," said Arla.
"You are right," said he, "and the pay is not great.
But if it were larger, more people might want it and
I might lose it; and if it were less, how could I afford
to do it at all? So I am satisfied."
"But you ought not to be entirely satisfied," said
Arla, "for the clock does not keep good time. I know
when it is striking, for it has a very jangling sound,
and it is the most irregular clock in Rondaine. Some-
times it strikes as much as twenty-five minutes after
the hour, and very often it does not strike at all."
The cobbler looked up at her with a smile. "I am
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
sorry," he said, "that it has a jangling stroke, but the
fashioning of clocks is not my trade, and I could not
mend its sound with awl, hammer, or waxed end. But
it seems to me, my good maiden, that you never
mended a pair of shoes."
"No, indeed!" said Arla. "I should do that even
worse than you would make clocks."
"Never having mended shoes, then," said the cob-
bler, "you do not know what a grievous thing it is to
have twelve o'clock, or six o'clock, or any other hour,
in fact, come before you are ready for it. Now, I
don't mind telling you, because I know you are too
good to spoil the trade of a hard-working cobbler,—
and shoemaker, too, whenever he gets the chance to
be one,―that when I have promised a customer that he
Ishall have his shoes or his boots at a certain time of
day, and that time is drawing near, while the end of
the job is still somewhat distant, then do I skip up the
stairway and set back the hands of the clock accord-
ing to the work that has to be done. Then when my
customer comes I look up to the clock-face and I say
to him, 'Glad to see you!' and then he will look up
at the clock and will say, 'Yes, I am a little too soon.'
And then, as likely as not, he will sit down on the
door-step here by me and talk entertainingly; and it
may happen that he will sit there without grumbling
for many minutes after the clock has pointed out the
hour at which the shoes were promised. Sometimes,
when I have been much belated in beginning a job, I
stop the clock altogether, for you can well see for
yourself that it would not do to have it strike eleven
when it is truly twelve. So, if my man be willing
to sit down, and our talk be very entertaining, the
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
clock being above him where he cannot see it without
stepping outward from the house, he may not notice
that it is stopped. This expedient once served me
very well, for an old gentleman, over-testy and over-
punctual, once came to me for his shoes, and looking
up at the clock, which I had prepared for him, ex-
claimed, 'Bless me! I am much too early!' So he
sat down by me for three quarters of an hour, in which
time I persuaded him that his shoes were far too much
worn to be worth mending any more, and that he
should have a new pair, which, afterwards, I made."
"I do not believe it is right for you to do that,"
said Arla. "But even if you think so, there is no
reason why your clock should go wrong at night,
when so many people can hear it because of the still-
ness."
"Ah me!" said the cobbler, "I do not object to the
clock being as right as you please in the night, but
when my day's work is done, I so desire to go home
to my supper that I often forget to put the clock
right, or to set it going if it is stopped. But so many
things stop at night-such as the day itself-and so
many things then go wrong-such as the ways of evil-
minded people-that I think you truly ought to par-
don my poor clock."
"Then you will not consent," said Arla, "to make
it go right?"
"I will do that with all cheerfulness," answered the
cobbler, pulling out a pair of waxed ends with a great
jerk, "as soon as I can make myself go right. The
most important thing should always be done first.
Surely I am more important than a clock!" And
he smiled with great good humor.
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
Arla knew that it would be of no use to stand there
any longer and talk with this cobbler. Turning to go,
she said:
"When I bring you shoes to mend, you shall finish
them by my clock, and not by yours."
"That will I, my good little Arla," said the cobbler,
heartily. "They shall be finished by any clock in
town, and five minutes before the hour, or no pay-
ment."
Arla now walked on until she came to the bridge
over the river. It was a long, covered structure, and
by the entrance sat the bridge-keeper.
"Do you know, sir," said she, "that the clock at this
end of your bridge does not keep the same time as the
one at the other end? They are not so very different,
but I have noticed that this one is always done striking
at least two minutes before the other begins."
The bridge-keeper looked at her with one eye, which
was all he had.
"You are as wrong as anybody can be," said he. "I
do not say anything about the striking, because my
ears are not now good enough to hear the clock at the
other end when I am near this one, but I know they
both keep the same time. I have often looked at this
clock, and have then walked to the other end of the
bridge, and have found that the clock there was exactly
like it."
Arla looked at the poor old man, whose legs were
warmly swaddled on account of his rheumatism, and
said:
"But it must take you a good while to walk to the
other end of the bridge."
"Out upon you!" cried the bridge-keeper. "I am
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
not so old as that yet! I can walk there in no
time!"
Arla now crossed the bridge and went a short dis-
tance along a country road until she came to the great
stone house known as Vougereau. This belonged to a
rich family who seldom came there, and the place was
in charge of an elderly man who was the brother of
Arla's mother. When his niece was shown into a room
on the ground floor which served for his parlor and
his office, he was very glad to see her, and while Arla
was having something to eat and drink after her walk,
the two had a pleasant chat.
"I came this time, Uncle Anton," she said, "not
only to see you, but to tell you that the great clock
in your tower does not keep good time."
Uncle Anton looked at her a little surprised.
"How do you know that, my dear?" he said.
Then Arla told him how she had lain awake in the
early morning, and had heard the striking of the dif-
ferent clocks. "If you wish to make it right," said
she, "I can give you the proper time, for I have
brought my own little clock with me."
She was about to take her rose-clock out of her
basket, when her uncle motioned to her not to do so.
"Let me tell you something," said he. "The alter-
ing of the time of day, which you speak of so lightly,
is a very serious matter, which should be considered
with all gravity. If you set back a clock, even as little
as ten minutes, you add that much to the time that
has passed; the hour which has just gone by has been
made seventy minutes long. Now, no human being
has the right to add anything to the past, nor to make
hours longer than they were originally made. And,
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
on the other hand, if you set a clock forward even so
little as ten minutes, you take away that much from
the future, and you make the coming hour only fifty
minutes long. Now, no human being has a right to
take anything away from the future, or to make the
hours shorter than they were originally intended to
be. I desire, my dear niece, that you will earnestly
think over what I have said, and I am sure you
will then see for yourself how unwise and even cul-
pable it would be to trifle with the length of the hours
which make up our day. And now, Arla, let us talk
of other things."
So they talked of other things until Arla thought
it was time to go. She saw there was something
wrong in her uncle's reasoning, although she could
not tell exactly what it was, and thinking about it,
she slowly returned to the town. As she approached
the house of the little old lady with white hair, she
concluded to stop and speak to her about her clock.
"She will surely be willing to alter that," said Arla,
"for it is so very much out of the way."
The old lady knew who Arla was, and received her
very kindly. But when she heard why the young girl
had come to her, she flew into a passion.
"Never, since I was born," she said, "have I been
spoken to like this! My great-grandfather lived in
this house before me; that clock was good enough
for him. My grandfather lived in this house before
me; that clock was good enough for him. My father
and mother lived in this house before me; that clock
was good enough for them. I was born in this house,
have always lived in it, and expect to die in it; that
clock is good enough for me. I heard its strokes when
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
I was but a little child; I hope to hear them at my last
hour. And sooner than raise my hand against the
clock of my ancestors, and the clock of my whole life,
I would cut off that hand!"
Some tears came into Arla's eyes. She was a little
frightened. "I hope you will pardon me, good
madam," she said, "for, truly, I did not wish to offend
you. Nor did I think that your clock is not a good
one. I only meant that you should make it better.
It is nearly an hour out of the way."
The sight of Arla's tears cooled the anger of the
little old lady with white hair. "Child," she said,
"you do not know what you are talking about, and I
forgive you. But remember this: never ask persons
as old as I am to alter the principles which have al-
ways made clear to them what they should do, or the
clocks which have always told them when they should
do it."
Then, kissing Arla, she bade her good-by.
"Principles may last a great while without altering,"
thought Arla, as she went away, "but I am sure it is
very different with clocks."
The poor girl now felt a good deal discouraged.
"People don't seem to care whether their clocks are
right or not," she said to herself, "and if they don't
care, I am sure it is of no use for me to tell them about
it. If even one clock could be made to go properly,
it might help to make the people of Rondaine care to
know exactly what time it is. Now, there is that iron
donkey. If he would but kick at the right hour it
would be an excellent thing, for he kicks so hard that
he is heard all over the town."
Determined to make this one more effort, Arla
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
walked quickly to the town building at the top of
which was the clock with the iron donkey. This
building was a sort of museum. It had a great many
curious things in it, and it was in charge of a very
ingenious man, who was learned and skilful in various
ways.
When Arla had informed the superintendent of the
museum why she had come to him, he did not laugh
at her, nor did he get angry. He was accustomed to
giving earnest consideration to matters of this sort,
and he listened attentively to all that Arla had to say.
"You must know," he said, "that our iron donkey
is a very complicated piece of mechanism. Not only
must he kick out the hours, but five minutes before
doing so he must turn his head around and look at
the bell behind him, and then, when he has done kick-
ing, he must put his head back into its former posi-
tion. All this action requires a great many wheels
and cogs and springs and levers, and these cannot be
made to move with absolute regularity. When it is
cold some of his works contract, and when it is warm
they expand. There are also other reasons why he is
very likely to lose or gain time. At noon on every
bright day I set him right, being able to get the cor-
rect time from a sun-dial which stands in the court-
yard. But his works-which, I am sorry to say, are
not well made-are sure to get a great deal out of the
way before I set him again."
"Then, if there are several cloudy or rainy days
together, he goes very wrong indeed," said Arla.
"Yes, he truly does," replied the superintendent,
"and I am sorry for it. But there is no way to remedy
his irregularities except for me to make him all over
111


THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
again at my own expense, and that is something I can-
not afford to do. The clock belongs to the town, and
I am sure the citizens will not be willing to spend the
money necessary for a new donkey-clock. For, so far
as I know, every person but yourself is perfectly satis-
fied with this one."
"I suppose so," said Arla, with a sigh. "But it
really is a great pity that every striking clock in
Rondaine should be wrong!"
"But how do you know they are all wrong?" asked
the superintendent.
"Oh, that is easy enough," said Arla. "When I lie
awake in the early morning, when all else is very
still, I listen to their striking, and then I look at my
own rose-clock to see what time it really is."
"Your rose-clock?" said the superintendent.
"This is it," said Arla, opening her basket and tak-
ing out her little clock.
The superintendent took it into his hands and
looked at it attentively, both outside and inside.
Then, still holding it, he stepped out into the court-
yard. When, in a few moments, he returned, he said:
"I have compared your clock with my sun-dial, and
find that it is ten minutes slow. I see also that like
the donkey-clock its works are not adjusted in such
a way as to be unaffected by heat and cold."
"My - clock - ten-minutes slow!" exclaimed
Arla, with wide-open eyes.
"Yes," said the superintendent, "that is the case
to-day, and on some days it is, probably, a great deal
too fast. Such a clock as this-which is a very in-
genious and beautiful one-ought frequently to be
compared with a sun-dial or other correct time-keeper,
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
and set to the proper hour. I see it requires a pecul-
iar key with which to set it. Have you brought this
with you?"
"No, sir," said Arla. "I did not suppose it would
be needed."
"Well, then," said the superintendent, "you can set
it forward ten minutes when you reach home. And
to-morrow morning if you compare the other clocks
with it, I think you will find that not all of them are
wrong."
Arla sat quiet for a moment, and then she said: “I
think I shall not care any more to compare the clocks
of Rondaine with my little rose-clock. If the people
are satisfied with their own clocks, whether they are
fast or slow, and do not desire to know exactly when
Christmas day begins, I can do nobody any good by
listening to the different strikings and then looking at
my own little clock with a night-lamp by it."
"Especially," said the superintendent, with a smile,
"when you are not sure that your rose-clock is right.
But if you will bring here your little clock and your
key on any day when the sun is shining, I will set it
to the time shadowed on the sun-dial, or show you
how to do it yourself."
"Thank you very much," said Arla, and she took
her leave.
As she walked home, she lifted the lid of her basket
and looked at her little rose-clock. "To think of it!"
she said. "That you should be sometimes too fast and
sometimes too slow! And, worse than that, to think
that some of the other clocks have been right and you
have been wrong! But I do not feel like altering you
to-day. If you go fast sometimes, and slow sometimes,
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THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE
you must be right sometimes, and one of these days,
when I take you to be compared with the sun-dial,
perhaps you may not have to be altered so much."
Arla went to bed that night quite tired with her
long walks, and when she awoke it was broad daylight.
"I do not know," she said to herself, "exactly when
Christmas began, but I am very sure that the happy
day is here."
"Do you lie awake in the morning as much as you
used to?" asked Arla's mother, a few weeks after the
Christmas holidays.
"No, mother dear," said Arla. "I now sleep with
one of my windows shut, and I am no longer awak-
ened by that chilly feeling which used to come to me
in the early morning, when I would draw the bed-
covers close about me and think how wrong were the
clocks of Rondaine."
The little rose-clock never went to be compared
with the sun-dial. "Perhaps you are right now,” Arla
would say to her clock each day when the sun shone,
"and I will not take you until some time when I feel
very sure that you are wrong."
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR, THE
FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM


A


CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST; OR, THE
FRUIT OF THE FRAGILE PALM
THE
HE Horn o' Plenty was a fine, big, old-fashioned
ship, very high in the bow, very high in the
stern, with a quarter-deck always carpeted in fine
weather, because her captain could not see why one
should not make himself comfortable at sea as well as
on land. Covajos Maroots was her captain, and a fine,
jolly, old-fashioned, elderly sailor he was. The Horn
o' Plenty always sailed upon one sea, and always be-
tween two ports, one on the west side of the sea, and
one on the east. The port on the west was quite a
large city, in which Captain Covajos had a married
son, and the port on the east was another city in which
he had a married daughter. In each family he had
several grandchildren, and, consequently, it was a
great joy to the jolly old sailor to arrive at either
port. The captain was very particular about his cargo,
and the Horn o' Plenty was generally laden with good
things to eat, or sweet things to smell, or fine things
to wear, or beautiful things to look at. Once a mer-
chant brought to him some boxes of bitter aloes and
mustard-plasters, but Captain Covajos refused to take
them into his ship.
"I know," said he, "that such things are very useful
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
and necessary at times, but you would better send them
over in some other vessel. The Horn o' Plenty has
never carried anything that, to look at, to taste, or to
smell, did not delight the souls of old and young. I
am sure you cannot say that of these commodities. If
I were to put such things on board my ship, it would
break the spell which more than fifty savory voyages
have thrown around it."
There were sailors who sailed upon that sea who
used to say that sometimes, when the weather was hazy
and they could not see far, they would know they were
about to meet the Horn o' Plenty before she came in
sight. Her planks and timbers, and even her sails and
masts, had gradually become so filled with the odor of
good things that the winds that blew over her were
filled with an agreeable fragrance.
There was another thing about which Captain Cova-
jos was very particular: he always liked to arrive at
one of his ports a few days before Christmas. Never,
in the course of his long life, had the old sailor spent
a Christmas at sea, and now that he had his grand-
children to help make the holidays merry, it would
have grieved him very much if he had been unable
to reach one or the other of his ports in good season.
His jolly old vessel was generally heavily laden, and
very slow, and there were many days of calm on that
sea when she did not sail at all, so that her voyages
were usually very, very long. But the captain fixed
the days of sailing so as to give himself plenty of time
to get to the other end of his course before Christmas
came around.
One spring, however, he started too late, and when
he was about at the middle of his voyage, he called to
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
him Baragat Bean, his old boatswain. This venerable
sailor had been with the captain ever since he had
commanded the Horn o' Plenty, and on important oc-
casions he was always consulted in preference to the
other officers, none of whom had served under Captain
Covajos more than fifteen or twenty years.
"Baragat," said the captain, "we have just passed
the Isle of Guinea-hens. You can see its one moun-
tain standing up against the sky to the north."
"There she
"Ay, ay, sir," said old Baragat.
stands, the same as usual."
“That makes it plain," said the captain, "that we
are not yet half-way across, and I am very much afraid
that I shall not be able to reach my dear daughter's
house before Christmas."
"That would be doleful, indeed," said Baragat, “but
I've feared something of the kind, for we've had calms
nearly every other day, and sometimes, when the wind
did blow, it came from the wrong direction, and it's
my belief that the ship sailed backward."
"That was very bad management," said the captain.
"The chief mate should have seen to it that the sails
were turned in such a manner that the ship could not
go backward. If that sort of thing happened often,
it would become quite a serious affair."
"But what is done can't be helped," said the boat-
swain, "and I don't see how you are going to get into
port before Christmas."
"Nor do I," said the captain, gazing out over the
sea.
"It would give me a sad turn, sir," said Baragat, "to
see you spend Christmas at sea, a thing you never did
before, nor ever shall do, if I can help it. If you'll
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
take my advice, sir, you'll turn around and go back.
It's a shorter distance to the port we started from than
to the one we are going to, and if we turn back now,
I am sure we all shall be on shore before the holidays."
"Go back to my son's house!" exclaimed Captain
Covajos, "where I was last winter! Why, that would
be like spending last Christmas over again!"
"But that would be better than having none at all,
sir," said the boatswain, "and a Christmas at sea would
be about equal to none."
"Good!" exclaimed the captain. "I will give up
the coming Christmas with my daughter and her chil-
dren, and go back and spend last Christmas over again
with my son and his dear boys and girls. Have the
ship turned around immediately, Baragat, and tell
the chief mate I do not wish to sail backward if it can
possibly be avoided."
For a week or more the Horn o' Plenty sailed back
upon her track toward the city where dwelt the cap-
tain's son. The weather was fine, the carpet was never
taken up from the quarter-deck, and everything was
going on very well, when a man, who happened to
have an errand at one of the topmasts, came down
and reported that he had seen, far away to the north,
a little open boat with some people in it.
"Ah me!" said Captain Covajos, "it must be some
poor fellows who are shipwrecked. It will take us
out of our course, but we must not leave them to their
fate. Have the ship turned about, so that it will sail
northward."
It was not very long before they came up with the
boat, and, much to the captain's surprise, he saw that
it was filled with boys.
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
"Who are you?" he cried as soon as he was near
enough. "And where do you come from?"
"We are the First Class in Long Division," said the
oldest boy, "and we are cast away. Have you any-
thing to eat that you can spare us? We are almost
famished."
"We have plenty of everything," said the captain.
"Come on board instantly, and all your wants shall be
supplied."
"How long have you been without food?" he asked,
when the boys were on the deck of the vessel.
"We have had nothing to eat since breakfast,” said
one of them, "and it is now late in the afternoon.
Some of us are nearly dead from starvation."
"It is very hard for boys to go so long without eat-
ing," said the good captain, and leading them below,
he soon set them to work upon a bountiful meal.
Not until their hunger was fully satisfied did he ask
them how they came to be cast away.
"You see, sir," said the oldest boy, "we and the
Multiplication Class had a holiday to-day, and each
class took a boat and determined to have a race, so as
to settle, once for all, which was the highest branch of
arithmetic-multiplication or long division. Our class
rowed so hard that we entirely lost sight of the Multi-
plicationers, and found, indeed, that we were out of
sight of everything, so that, at last, we did not know
which was the way back, and thus we became casta-
ways."
"Where is your school?" asked the captain.
"It is on Apple Island," said the boy. "And al-
though it is a long way off for a small boat with only
four oars for nine boys, it can't be very far for a ship."
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
"That is quite likely," said the captain, "and we
shall take you home. Baragat, tell the chief mate to
have the vessel turned toward Apple Island, that we
may restore these boys to their parents and guardians."
Now, the chief mate had not the least idea in the
world where Apple Island was, but he did not like to
ask, because that would be confessing his ignorance.
So he steered his vessel toward a point where he be-
lieved he had once seen an island, which, probably,
was the one in question. The Horn o' Plenty sailed in
this direction all night, and when day broke, and there
was no island in sight, she took another course, and so
sailed this way and that for six or seven days, without
ever seeing a sign of land. All this time, the First
Class in Long Division was as happy as it could be,
for it was having a perfect holiday, fishing off the sides
of the vessel, climbing up the ladders and ropes, and
helping the sailors whistle for wind. But the captain
now began to grow a little impatient, for he felt he
was losing time; so he sent for the chief mate, and said
to him mildly but firmly :
"I know it is out of the line of your duty to search
for island schools, but if you really think that you do
not know where Apple Island lies, I wish you to say
so, frankly and openly."
"Frankly and openly," answered the mate, "I don't
think I do."
"Very well," said the captain. "Now, that is a basis
to work upon, and we know where we stand. You
can take a little rest, and let the second mate find the
island. But I can only give him three days in which
to do it. We really have no time to spare."
The second mate was very proud of the responsi-
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
bility placed upon him, and immediately ordered the
vessel to be steered due south.
"One is just as likely," he said, "to find a totally
unknown place by going straight ahead in a certain
direction as by sailing here, there, and everywhere.
In this way you really get over more water, and there
is less wear and tear on the ship and rigging."
So he sailed due south for two days, and at the
end of that time they came in sight of land. This
was a large island, and when they approached near
enough, they saw upon its shores a very handsome
city.
"Is this Apple Island?" said Captain Covajos to the
oldest boy.
"Well, sir," answered the youth, "I am not sure
I can say with certainty that I truly believe it is.
But I think, if we were to go on shore, the people
there would be able to tell us how to go to Apple
Island."
"Very likely," said the good captain. "We will
go on shore and make inquiries. And it has struck
me, Baragat," he said, "that perhaps the merchants in
the city where my son lives may be somewhat annoyed
when the Horn o' Plenty comes back with all their
goods on board, and not disposed of. Not under-
standing my motives, they may be disposed to think
ill of me. Consequently, the idea has come into my
head that it might be a good thing to stop here for a
time, and to try to dispose of some of our merchandise.
The city seems to be prosperous, and I have no doubt
there are a number of merchants here."
So the Horn o' Plenty was soon anchored in the har-
bor, and as many of the officers and crew as could be
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spared went on shore to make inquiries. Of course
the First Class in Long Division was not left behind,
and, indeed, they were ashore as soon as anybody.
The captain and his companions were cordially
welcomed by some of the dignitaries of the city who
had come down to the harbor to see the strange vessel,
but no one could give any information in regard to
Apple Island, the name of which had never been heard
on those shores. The captain was naturally desirous
of knowing at what place he had landed, and was in-
formed that this was the Island of the Fragile Palm.
"That is rather an odd name," said the old captain.
"Why is it so called?"
“The reason is this," said his informant: "Near the
centre of the island stands a tall and very slender palm-
tree, which has been growing there for hundreds of
years. It bears large and handsome fruit which is
something like the cocoanut, and, in its perfection, is
said to be a transcendently delicious fruit."
"Said to be!" exclaimed the captain. "Are you not
positive about it?"
"No," said the other. "No one living has ever tasted
the fruit in its perfection. When it becomes over-ripe
it drops to the ground, and even then it is considered
royal property, and is taken to the palace for the
king's table. But on fête-days and grand occasions
small bits of it are distributed to the populace."
"Why don't you pick the fruit," asked Captain
Covajos, "when it is in its best condition to eat?”
"It would be impossible," said the citizen, "for any
one to climb up that tree, the trunk of which is so
extremely delicate and fragile that the weight of a
man would probably snap it, and, of course, a ladder
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placed against it would produce the same result. Many
attempts have been made to secure this fruit at the
proper season, but all of them have failed. Another
palm-tree of a more robust sort was once planted near
this one, in the hope that when it grew high enough
men could climb up the stronger tree and get the fruit
from the other. But although we waited many years,
the second tree never attained sufficient height, and
it was cut down."
"It is a great pity," said the captain, "but I sup-
pose it cannot be helped." Then he began to make
inquiries about the merchants in the place, and
what probability there was of his doing a little trade
here. The captain soon discovered that the cargo of
his ship was made up of goods which were greatly de-
sired by the citizens of this place, and for several days
he was very busy selling the good things to eat, the
sweet things to smell, the fine things to wear, and the
beautiful things to look at, with which the hold of
the Horn o' Plenty was crowded.
During this time the First Class in Long Division
roamed, in delight, over the city. The busy streets,
the shops, the handsome buildings, and the queer sights
with which they occasionally met, interested and
amused them greatly. Still the boys were not satisfied.
They had heard of the Fragile Palm, and they made
up their minds to go and have a look at it. Therefore,
taking a guide, they tramped out into the country,
and in about an hour they came in sight of the beau-
tiful tree standing in the centre of the plain. The
trunk was, indeed, exceedingly slender, and, as the
guide informed them, the wood was of so very brittle
a nature that, if the tree had not been protected from
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the winds by the high hills which encircled it, it would
have been snapped off ages ago. Under the broad tuft
of leaves that formed its top, the boys saw hanging
large clusters of the precious fruit, great nuts as big as
their heads.
"At what time of the year," asked the oldest boy,
"is that fruit just ripe enough to eat?"
"Now," answered the guide. "This is the season
when it is in the most perfect condition. In about a
month it will become entirely too ripe and soft, and
will drop. But, even then, the king and all the rest
of us are glad enough to get a taste of it."
"I should think the king would be exceedingly
eager to get some of it just as it is," said the boy.
"Indeed, he is!" replied the guide. "He and his
father, and I don't know how many grandfathers back,
have offered large rewards to any one who would pro-
cure them this fruit in its best condition. But nobody
has ever been able to get any yet."
"The reward still holds good, I suppose?" said the
head boy.
"Oh, yes,” answered the guide. "There never was a
king who so much desired to taste the fruit as our
present monarch."
The oldest boy looked up at the top of the tree, shut
one eye, and gave his head a little wag. Whereupon
every boy in the class looked up, shut one eye, and
slightly wagged his head. After which the oldest boy
said that he thought it was about time for them to go
back to the ship.
As soon as they reached the vessel, and could talk
freely together, the boys had an animated discussion.
It was unanimously agreed that they would make an
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attempt to get some of the precious fruit from the
Fragile Palm, and the only difference of opinion among
them was as to how it should be done. Most of them
were in favor of some method of climbing the tree and
trusting to its not breaking. But this the oldest boy
would not listen to. The trunk might snap, and then
somebody would be hurt, and he felt, in a measure,
responsible for the rest of the class. At length a good
plan was proposed by a boy who had studied me-
chanics.
"What we ought to do with that tree,” said he, "is
to put a hinge into her. Then we could let her down
gently, pick off the fruit, and set her up again."
"But how are you going to do it?" asked the others.
"This is the way," said the boy who had studied
mechanics. "You take a saw, and then, about two
feet from the ground, you begin and saw down diag-
onally, for a foot and a half, to the centre of the trunk.
Then you go on the other side, and saw down in the
same way, the two cuts meeting each other. Now you
have the upper part of the trunk ending in a wedge,
which fits into a cleft in the lower part of the trunk.
Then, about nine inches below the place where you
first began to saw, you bore a hole straight through
both sides of the cleft and the wedge between them.
Then you put an iron bolt through this hole, and you
have your tree on a hinge, only she won't be apt to
move, because she fits in so snug and tight.
Then you
get a long rope, and tie one end in a slip-knot loosely
around the trunk. Then you get a lot of poles, and
fasten them end to end, and push this slip-knot up until
it is somewhere near the top, when you pull it tight.
Then you take another rope with a slip-knot, and push
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this a little more than half-way up the trunk. By
having two ropes, that way, you prevent too much
strain coming on any one part of the trunk. Then,
after that, you take a mallet and chisel and round off
the lower corners of the wedge, so that it will turn
easily in the cleft. Then we take hold of the ropes,
let her down gently, pick off the fruit, and haul her
up again. That will all be easy enough."
This plan delighted the boys, and they all pro-
nounced in its favor. But the oldest one suggested
that it would be better to fasten the ropes to the trunk
before they began to saw upon it, and another boy
asked how they were going to keep the tree standing
when they hauled her up again.
"Oh, that is easy," said the one who had studied
mechanics. "You just bore another hole about six
inches above the first one, and put in another bolt.
Then, of course, she can't move."
This settled all the difficulties, and it was agreed to
start out early the next morning, gather the fruit, and
claim the reward the king had offered. They accord-
ingly went to the captain and asked him for a sharp
saw, a mallet and chisel, an auger, two iron bolts, and
two very long ropes. These, having been cheerfully
given to them, were put away in readiness for the
work to be attempted.
Very early on the next morning, the First Class in
Long Division set out for the Fragile Palm, carrying
their tools and ropes. Few people were awake as
they passed through the city, and, without being ob-
served, they reached the little plain on which the tree
stood. The ropes were attached at the proper places,
the tree was sawn diagonally, according to the plan,
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
the bolt was put in, and the corners of the wedge were
rounded off. Then the eldest boy produced a pound
of butter, whereupon his comrades, who had seized the
ropes, paused in surprise and asked him why he had
brought that.
"I thought it well," was the reply, "to bring along
some butter, because, when the tree is down, we can
grease the hinge, and then it will not be so hard to
pull it up again."
When all was ready, eight of the boys took hold of
the long ropes, while another one with a pole pushed
against the trunk of the Fragile Palm. When it began
to lean over a little, he dropped his pole and ran to
help the others with the ropes. Slowly the tree moved
on its hinge, descending at first very gradually. But
it soon began to move with greater rapidity, although
the boys held it back with all their strength, and, in
spite of their most desperate efforts, the top came to
the ground at last with a great thump. Then they
all dropped their ropes and ran for the fruit. Fortu-
nately the great nuts encased in their strong husks
were not in the least injured, and the boys soon pulled
them off, about forty in all. Some of the boys were in
favor of cracking open a few of the nuts and eating
them, but this the eldest boy positively forbade.
"This fruit," he said, "is looked upon as almost
sacred, and if we were to eat any of it, it is probable
that we should be put to death, which would be ex-
tremely awkward for fellows who have gone to all the
trouble we have had. We must set up the tree and
carry the fruit to the king."
According to this advice, they thoroughly greased
the hinge in the tree with the butter, and then set
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themselves to work to haul up the trunk. This, how-
ever, was much more difficult than letting it down;
and they had to lift up the head of it, and prop it up
on poles, before they could pull upon it with advan-
tage. The tree, although tall, was indeed a very slen-
der one, with a small top, and if it had been as fragile
as it was supposed to be, the boys' efforts would surely
have broken it. At last, after much tugging and warm
work, they pulled it into an upright position, and put
in the second bolt. They left the ropes on the tree
because, as some of them had suggested, the people
might want to let the tree down again the next year.
It would have been difficult for the boys to carry in
their arms the great pile of fruit they had gathered,
but having noticed a basket-maker's cottage on their
way to the tree, two of them were sent to buy one of
his largest baskets or hampers. This was attached to
two long poles, and having been filled with the nuts,
the boys took the poles on their shoulders, and marched
into the city.
On their way to the palace they attracted a great
crowd, and when they were ushered into the presence
of the king, his surprise and delight knew no bounds.
At first he could scarcely believe his eyes, but he had
seen the fruit so often that there could be no mistake
about it.
"I shall not ask you," he said to the boys, "how you
procured this fruit, and thus accomplished a deed
which has been the object of the ambition of myself
and my forefathers. All I ask is, did you leave the
tree standing?"
"We did," said the boys.
"Then all that remains to be done," said his Maj-
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esty, "is to give you the reward you have so nobly
earned. Treasurer, measure out to each of them a
quart of gold coin. And pray be quick about it, for I
am wild with desire to have a table spread, and one
of these nuts cracked, that I may taste of its luscious
contents."
The boys, however, appeared a little dissatisfied.
Huddling together, they consulted in a low tone, and
then the eldest boy addressed the king.
"May it please your Majesty," he said, "we should
very much prefer to have you give each of us one of
those nuts instead of a quart of gold."
The king looked grave. "This is a much greater
reward," he said, "than I had ever expected to pay.
But, since you ask it, you must have it. You have
done something which none of my subjects has ever
been able to accomplish, and it is right, therefore, that
you should be fully satisfied."
So he gave them each a nut, with which they de-
parted in triumph to the ship.
By the afternoon of the next day the captain had
sold all his cargo at very good prices, and when the
money was safely stored away in the Horn o' Plenty,
he made ready to sail, for he declared he had really
no time to spare. "I must now make all possible
haste," he said to old Baragat, "to find Apple Island,
put these boys ashore, and then speed away to the
city where lives my son. We must not fail to get
there in time to spend last Christmas over again."
On the second day after the Horn o' Plenty had left
the Island of the Fragile Palm, one of the sailors who
happened to be aloft noticed a low, black, and exceed-
ingly unpleasant-looking vessel rapidly approaching.
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This soon proved to be the ship of a band of corsairs,
who, having heard of the large amount of money on
the Horn o' Plenty, had determined to pursue her and
capture the rich prize. All sails were set upon the
Horn o' Plenty, but it soon became plain that she could
never outsail the corsair vessel.
"What our ship can do better than anything else,"
said Baragat to the captain, "is to stop short. Stop
her short, and let the other one go by."
This manœuvre was executed, but although the
corsair passed rapidly by, not being able to stop so
suddenly, it soon turned around and came back, its
decks swarming with savage men armed to the teeth.
"They are going to board us," cried Baragat.
"They are getting out their grappling-irons, and they
will fasten the two ships together."
"Let all assemble on the quarter-deck," said the
captain. "It is higher there, and we shall not be so
much exposed to accidents."
The corsair ship soon ran alongside the Horn o'
Plenty, and in a moment the two vessels were fastened
together, and then the corsairs, every man of them,
each with cutlass in hand and a belt full of dirks and
knives, swarmed up the side of the Horn o' Plenty, and
sprang upon its central deck. Some of the ferocious
fellows, seeing the officers and crew all huddled to-
gether upon the quarter-deck, made a movement in
that direction. This so frightened the chief mate that
he jumped down upon the deck of the corsair ship. A
panic now arose, and he was immediately followed by
the officers and crew. The boys, of course, were not
to be left behind, and as the captain and Baragat
felt themselves bound not to desert the crew, they
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jumped also. None of the corsairs interfered with
this proceeding, for each one of them was anxious to
find the money at once. When the passengers and
crew of the Horn o' Plenty were all on board the cor-
sair ship, Baragat came to the captain, and said:
"If I were you, sir, I'd cast off those grapnels, and
separate the vessels. If we don't do that, those ras-
cals, when they have finished robbing our money-
chests, will come back here and murder us all."
"That is a good idea," said Captain Covajos. And
he told the chief mate to give orders to cast off the
grapnels, push the two vessels apart, and set some of
the sails.
When this had been done, the corsair vessel began
to move away from the other, and was soon many
lengths distant from her. When the corsairs came on
deck and perceived what had happened, they were
infuriated, and immediately began to pursue their own
vessel with the one they had captured. But the Horn
o' Plenty could not, by any possibility, sail as fast as
the corsair ship, and the latter easily kept away from
her.
"Now, then," said Baragat to the captain, "what you
have to do is easy enough. Sail straight for our port,
and those sea-robbers will follow you, for, of course,
they will wish to get their own vessel back again, and
will hope, by some carelessness on our part, to over-
take us. In the meantime the money will be safe
enough, for they will have no opportunity of spending
it, and when we come to port, we can take some sol-
diers on board, and go back and capture those fellows.
They can never sail away from us on the Horn o'
Plenty."
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"That is an admirable plan,” said the captain, "and
I shall carry it out. But I cannot sail to port imme-
diately. I must first find Apple Island and land these
boys, whose parents and guardians are probably grow-
ing very uneasy. I suppose the corsairs will continue
to follow us wherever we go."
"I hope so," said Baragat. "At any rate, we shall
see."
The First Class in Long Division was very much
delighted with the change of vessels, and the boys
rambled everywhere, and examined with great inter-
est all that belonged to the corsairs. They felt quite
easy about the only treasures they possessed, because,
when they had first seen the piratical vessel approach-
ing, they had taken the precious nuts which had been
given to them by the king, and had hidden them at
the bottom of some large boxes in which the captain
kept the sailors' winter clothes.
"In this warm climate," said the eldest boy, "the
robbers will never meddle with those winter clothes,
and our precious fruit will be perfectly safe."
"If you had taken my advice," said one of the other
boys, "we should have eaten some of the nuts. Those,
at least, we should have been sure of."
"And we should have had that many less to show to
the other classes," said the eldest boy. "Nuts like
these, I am told, if picked at the proper season, will
keep for a long time."
For some days the corsairs on board the Horn o'
Plenty followed their own vessel, but then they seemed
to despair of ever being able to overtake it, and steered
in another direction. This threatened to ruin all the
plans of Captain Covajos, and his mind became trou-
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bled. Then the boy who had studied mechanics came
forward and said to the captain :
"I'll tell you what I'd do, sir, if I were you. I'd
follow your old ship, and when night came on I'd sail
up quite near to her, and let some of your sailors swim
quietly over, and fasten a cable to her, and then you
could tow her after you wherever you wished to go."
"But they might unfasten the cable, or cut it," said
Baragat, who was standing by.
"That could easily be prevented," said the boy.
"At their end of the cable must be a stout chain
which they cannot cut, and it must be fastened so far
beneath the surface of the water that they will not be
able to reach it to unfasten it."
"A most excellent plan," said Captain Covajos. "Let
it be carried out."
As soon as it became quite dark, the corsair vessel
quietly approached the other, and two stout sailors
from Finland, who swam very well, were ordered to
swim over and attach the chain-end of a long cable to
the Horn o' Plenty. It was a very difficult operation,
for the chain was heavy; but the men succeeded at
last, and returned to report.
"We put the chain on fast and strong, sir," they
said to the captain, "and six feet under water. But
the only place we could find to make it fast to was
the bottom of the rudder."
"That will do very well," remarked Baragat, "for
the Horn o' Plenty sails better backward than forward,
and will not be so hard to tow."
For week after week, and month after month, Cap-
tain Covajos, in the corsair vessel, sailed here and
there in search of Apple Island, always towing after
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
him the Horn o' Plenty, with the corsairs on board;
but never an island with a school on it could they find,
and one day old Baragat came to the captain and said:
"If I were you, sir, I'd sail no more in these warm
regions. I am quite sure that apples grow in colder
latitudes, and are never found so far south as this."
"That is a good idea," said Captain Covajos. "We
should sail for the north if we wish to find an island
of apples. Have the vessel turned northward."
So, for days and weeks, the two vessels slowly
moved on to the north. One day the captain made
some observations and calculations, and then he hastily
summoned Baragat.
"Do you know," said he, "that I find it is now near
the end of November, and I am quite certain that we
shall not get to the port where my son lives in time
to celebrate last Christmas again. It is dreadfully
slow work, towing after us the Horn o' Plenty, full of
corsairs, wherever we go. But we cannot cast her off
and sail straight for our port, for I should lose my good
ship, the merchants would lose all their money, and
the corsairs would go unpunished. Besides all that,
think of the misery of the parents and guardians
of those poor boys. No. I must endeavor to find
Apple Island. And if I cannot reach port in time to
spend last Christmas with my son, I shall certainly get
there in season for Christmas before last. It is true
that I spent that Christmas with my daughter, but I
cannot go on to her now. I am much nearer the city
where my son lives. Besides, it is necessary to go
back and give the merchants their money. So now
we shall have plenty of time, and need not feel hur-
ried."
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
"No," said Baragat, heaving a vast sigh, "we need
not feel hurried."
The mind of the eldest boy now became very much
troubled, and he called his companions about him.
"I don't like at all," said he, "this sailing to the north.
It is now November, and although it is warm enough
at this season in the southern part of the sea, it will
become colder and colder as we go on. The conse-
quence of this will be that those corsairs will want
winter clothes; they will take them out of the cap-
tain's chests, and they will find our fruit."
The boys groaned. "That is true," said one of them.
"But still we wish to go back to our island."
"Of course," said the eldest boy, "it is quite proper
that we should return to Long Division. But think
of the hard work we did to get that fruit, and think
of the quarts of gold we gave up for it! It would be
too bad to lose it now!"
It was unanimously agreed that it would be too bad
to lose the fruit, and it was also unanimously agreed
that they wished to go back to Apple Island. But
what to do about it they did not know.
Day by day the weather grew colder and colder,
and the boys became more and more excited and dis-
tressed for fear they should lose their precious fruit.
The eldest boy lay awake for several nights, and then
a plan came into his head. He went to Captain Co-
vajos and proposed that he should send a flag of truce
over to the corsairs, offering to exchange winter cloth-
ing. He would send over to them the heavy garments
they had left on their own vessel, and in return would
take the boxes of clothes intended for the winter wear
of his sailors. In this way they would get their fruit
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
back without the corsairs knowing anything about it.
The captain considered this an excellent plan, and
ordered the chief mate to take a boat and a flag of
truce, and go over to the Horn o' Plenty and make the
proposition. The eldest boy and two of the others
insisted on going also, in order that there might be
no mistake about the boxes. But when the flag-of-
truce party reached the Horn o' Plenty they found not
a corsair there! Every man of them had gone. They
had taken with them all the money-chests, but, to the
great delight of the boys, the boxes of winter clothes
had not been disturbed, and in them still nestled, safe
and sound, the precious nuts of the Fragile Palm.
When the matter had been thoroughly looked into,
it became quite evident what the corsairs had done.
There had been only one boat on board the Horn o'
Plenty, and that was the one on which the First Class
in Long Division had arrived. The night before, the
two vessels had passed within a mile or so of a large
island, which the captain had approached in the hope
it was the one they were looking for, and they passed
it so slowly that the corsairs had time to ferry them-
selves over, a few at a time, in the little boat, taking
with them the money-and all without discovery.
Captain Covajos was greatly depressed when he
heard of the loss of all the money.
"I shall have a sad tale to tell my merchants," he
said, "and Christmas before last will not be celebrated
so joyously as it was the first time. But we cannot
help what has happened, and we all must endeavor to
bear our losses with patience. We shall continue our
search for Apple Island, but I shall go on board my
own ship, for I have greatly missed my carpeted quar-
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
ter-deck and my other comforts. The chief mate, how-
ever, and a majority of the crew shall remain on board
the corsair vessel, and continue to tow us. The Horn
o' Plenty sails better stern foremost, and we shall go
faster that way."
The boys were overjoyed at recovering their fruit,
and most of them were in favor of cracking two or
three of the great nuts and eating their contents in
honor of the occasion; but the eldest boy dissuaded
them.
"The good captain," he said, "has been very kind
in endeavoring to take us back to our school, and still
intends to keep up the search for dear old Apple
Island. The least we can do for him is to give him
this fruit, which is all we have, and let him do what
he pleases with it. This is the only way in which we
can show our gratitude to him."
The boys turned their backs on one another, and
each of them gave his eyes a little rub, but they all
agreed to give the fruit to the captain.
When the good old man received his present, he was
much affected. "I will accept what you offer me," he
said, "for if I did not, I know your feelings would be
wounded. But you must keep one of the nuts for
yourselves. And, more than that, if we do not find
Apple Island in the course of the coming year, I invite
you all to spend Christmas before last over again
with me at my son's house."
All that winter the two ships sailed up and down,
and here and there, but never could they find Apple
Island. When Christmas-time came, old Baragat went
around among the boys and the crew, and told them
it would be well not to say a word on the subject to
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
the captain, for his feelings were very tender in regard
to spending Christmas away from his families, and the
thing had never happened before. So nobody made
any allusion to the holidays, and they passed over as
if they had been ordinary days.
During the spring, and all through the summer, the
two ships kept up the unavailing search, but when the
autumn began, Captain Covajos said to old Baragat:
"I am very sorry, but I feel that I can no longer look
for Apple Island. I must go back and spend Christ-
mas before last over again with my dearest son, and
if these poor boys never return to their homes, I am
sure they cannot say it was any fault of mine.”
“No, sir,” said Baragat. “I think you have done all
that could be expected of you."
So the ships sailed to the city on the west side of
the sea, and the captain was received with great joy
by his son and his grandchildren. He went to the
merchants, and told them how he had lost all their
money. He hoped they would be able to bear their
misfortune with fortitude, and begged, as he could do
nothing else for them, that they would accept the
eight great nuts from the Fragile Palm that the boys
had given him. To his surprise, the merchants be-
came wild with delight when they received the nuts.
The money they had lost was as nothing, they said,
compared to the value of this incomparable and pre-
cious fruit, picked in its prime, and still in a perfect
condition.
It had been many, many generations since this rare
fruit, the value of which was like unto that of dia-
monds and pearls, had been for sale in any market in
the world; and kings and queens in many countries
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CHRISTMAS BEFORE LAST
were ready to give for it almost any price that might
be asked.
When the good old captain heard this he was greatly
rejoiced, and, as the holidays were now near, he in-
sisted that the boys should spend Christmas before last
over again at his son's house. He found that a good
many people there knew where Apple Island was, and
he made arrangements for the First Class in Long
Division to return to that island in a vessel which was
to sail about the first of the year.
The boys still possessed the great nut which the cap-
tain had insisted they should keep for themselves, and
he now told them that if they chose to sell it they
would each have a nice little fortune to take back with
them. The eldest boy consulted the others, and then
he said to the captain:
"Our class has gone through a good many hardships,
and has had a lot of trouble with that palm-tree and
other things, and we think we ought to be rewarded.
So, if it is all the same to you, I think we will crack
the nut on Christmas day, and we all will eat it."
"I never imagined," cried Captain Covajos, as he
sat, on that Christmas day, surrounded by his son's
family and the First Class in Long Division, the eyes
of the whole party sparkling with ecstasy as they
tasted the peerless fruit of the Fragile Palm, "that
Christmas before last could be so joyfully celebrated
over again."
141


1


PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH


ATLANTISTATIC.


PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
N the spring of a certain year, long since passed
away, Prince Hassak of Itoby determined to visit
his uncle, the King of Yan.
IN
"Whenever my uncle visited us," said the Prince,
"or when my late father went to see him, the journey
was always made by sea; and in order to do this it
was necessary to go in a very roundabout way between
Itoby and Yan. Now, I shall do nothing of this kind.
It is beneath the dignity of a prince to go out of his
way on account of capes, peninsulas, and promontories.
I shall march from my palace to that of my uncle in a
straight line. I shall go across the country, and no
obstacle shall cause me to deviate from my course.
Mountains and hills shall be tunnelled, rivers shall be
bridged, houses shall be levelled, a road shall be cut
through forests, and when I have finished my march,
the course over which I have passed shall be a mathe-
matically straight line. Thus will I show to the world
that when a prince desires to travel it is not necessary
for him to go out of his way on account of obstacles."
As soon as possible after the Prince had determined
upon this march, he made his preparations, and set
out. He took with him a few courtiers, and a large
body of miners, rock-splitters, bridge-builders, and
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
workmen of that class, whose services would, very
probably, be needed. Besides these, he had an offi-
cer whose duty it was to point out the direct course to
be taken, and another who was to draw a map of the
march, showing the towns, mountains, and the various
places it passed through. There were no compasses in
those days, but the course-marker had an instrument
which he would set in a proper direction by means of
the stars, and then he could march by it all day. Be-
sides these persons, Prince Hassak selected from the
schools of his city five boys and five girls, and took
them with him. He wished to show them how, when
a thing was to be done, the best way was to go straight
ahead and do it, turning aside for nothing.
"When they grow up they will teach these things
to their children," said he, "and thus I shall instil
good principles into my people."
The first day Prince Hassak and his party marched
over a level country, with no further trouble than that
occasioned by the tearing down of fences and walls,
and the destruction of a few cottages and barns. After
encamping for the night, they set out the next morn-
ing, but had not marched many miles before they
came to a rocky hill, on the top of which was a hand-
some house, inhabited by a Jolly-cum-pop.
"Your Highness," said the course-marker, "in order
to go in a direct line we must make a tunnel through
this hill, immediately under the house. This may
cause the building to fall in, but the rubbish can be
easily removed."
"Let the men go to work," said the Prince. "I
will dismount from my horse and watch the proceed-
ings."
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
When the Jolly-cum-pop saw the party halt before
his house, he hurried out to pay his respects to the
Prince. When he was informed of what was to be
done, the Jolly-cum-pop could not refrain from laugh-
ing aloud.
"I never heard," he said, "of such a capital idea.
It is so odd and original. It will be very funny, I am
sure, to see a tunnel cut right under my house."
The miners and rock-splitters now began to work
at the base of the hill, and then the Jolly-cum-pop
made a proposition to the Prince.
"It will take your men some time," he said, “to cut
this tunnel, and it is a pity your Highness should not
be amused in the meanwhile. It is a fine day; sup-
pose we go into the forest and hunt."
This suited the Prince very well, for he did not care
about sitting under a tree and watching his workmen,
and the Jolly-cum-pop having sent for his horse and
some bows and arrows, the whole party, with the ex-
ception of the laborers, rode toward the forest, a short
distance away.
"What shall we find to hunt?" asked the Prince of
the Jolly-cum-pop.
"I really do not know," exclaimed the latter, “but
we'll hunt whatever we happen to see-deer, small
birds, rabbits, griffins, rhinoceroses, anything that
comes along. I feel as gay as a skipping grasshopper.
My spirits rise like a soaring bird. What a joyful
thing it is to have such a hunt on such a glorious day!"
The gay and happy spirits of the Jolly-cum-pop
affected the whole party, and they rode merrily
through the forest. But they found no game, and,
after an hour or two, they emerged into the open
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
country again. At a distance, on a slight elevation,
stood a large and massive building.
"I am hungry and thirsty," said the Prince, "and
perhaps we can get some refreshments at yonder house.
So far, this has not been a very fine hunt."
"No," cried the Jolly-cum-pop, "not yet. But what
a joyful thing to see a hospitable mansion just at the
moment when we begin to feel a little tired and
hungry!"
The building they were approaching belonged to a
potentate who lived at a great distance. In some of
his travels he had seen this massive house, and thought
it would make a good prison. He accordingly bought
it, fitted it up as a jail, and appointed a jailer and
three myrmidons to take charge of it. This had oc-
curred years before, but no prisoners had ever been
sent to this jail. A few days preceding the Jolly-cum-
pop's hunt, the Potentate had journeyed this way and
had stopped at his jail. After inquiring into its con-
dition, he had said to the jailer:
"It is now fourteen years since I appointed you to
this place, and in all that time there have been no
prisoners, and you and your men have been drawing
your wages without doing anything. I shall return
this way in a few days, and if I still find you idle I
shall discharge you all and close the jail."
This filled the jailer with great dismay, for he did
not wish to lose his good situation. When he saw the
Prince and his party approaching, the thought struck
him that perhaps he might make prisoners of them,
and so not be found idle when the Potentate re-
turned. He came out to meet the hunters, and when
they asked if they could here find refreshment, he
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
gave them a most cordial welcome. His men took
their horses, and, inviting them to enter, he showed
each member of the party into a small bedroom, of
which there seemed to be a great many.
"Here are water and towels," he said to each one,
"and when you have washed your face and hands,
your refreshments will be ready." Then, going out,
he locked the door on the outside.
The party numbered seventeen: the prince, three
courtiers, five boys, five girls, the course-marker, the
map-maker, and the Jolly-cum-pop. The heart of the
jailer was joyful. Seventeen inmates was something
to be proud of. He ordered his myrmidons to give
the prisoners a meal of bread and water through the
holes in their cell doors, and then he sat down to make
out his report to the Potentate.
"They must all be guilty of crimes," he said to him-
self, "which are punished by long imprisonment. I
don't want any of them executed."
So he numbered his prisoners from one to seventeen,
according to the cell each happened to be in, and he
wrote a crime opposite each number. The first was
highway robbery, the next forgery, and after that fol-
lowed treason, smuggling, barn-burning, bribery,
poaching, usury, piracy, witchcraft, assault and bat-
tery, using false weights and measures, burglary,
counterfeiting, robbing hen-roosts, conspiracy, and
poisoning his grandmother by proxy.
This report was scarcely finished when the Potentate
returned. He was very much surprised to find that
seventeen prisoners had come in since his previous
visit, and he read the report with interest.
"Here is one who ought to be executed," he said,
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
referring to Number Seventeen. "And how did he
poison his grandmother by proxy? Did he get an-
other woman to be poisoned in her stead? Or did he
employ some one to act in his place as the poisoner?"
"I have not yet been fully informed, my lord," said
the jailer, fearful that he should lose a prisoner. "But
this is his first offence, and his grandmother, who did
not die, has testified to his general good character."
"Very well," said the Potentate. "But if he ever
does it again, let him be executed. And, by the way,
I should like to see the prisoners."
Thereupon the jailer conducted the Potentate along
the corridors, and let him look through the holes in
the doors at the prisoners within.
"What is this little girl in for?" he asked.
The jailer looked at the number over the door, and
then at his report.
"Piracy," he answered.
"A strange offence for such a child," said the Po-
tentate.
"They often begin that sort of thing very early in
life," said the jailer.
"And this fine gentleman," said the Potentate, look-
ing in at the Prince, "what did he do?"
The jailer glanced at the number, and then at the
report.
"Robbed hen-roosts," he said.
"He must have done a good deal of it to afford to
dress so well," said the Potentate, passing on, and look-
ing into other cells. "It seems to me that many of
your prisoners are very young."
"It is best to take them young, my lord," said the
jailer. "They are very hard to catch when they grow up."
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
The Potentate then looked in at the Jolly-cum-pop,
and asked what was his offence.
"Conspiracy," was the answer.
"And where are the other conspirators?"
"There was only one," said the jailer.
Number Seventeen was the oldest of the courtiers.
"He appears to be an elderly man to have a grand-
mother," said the Potentate. "She must be very aged,
and that makes it all the worse for him. I think he
should be executed."
"Oh, no, my lord," cried the jailer. "I am assured
that his crime was quite unintentional."
"Then he should be set free," said the Potentate.
"I mean to say," said the jailer, "that it was just
enough intentional to cause him to be imprisoned here
for a long time, but not enough to deserve execution.”
"Very well," said the Potentate, turning to leave.
"Take good care of your prisoners, and send me a
report every month."
"That will I do, my lord," said the jailer, bowing
very low.
The Prince and his party had been very much sur-
prised and incensed when they found that they could
not get out of their rooms, and they had kicked and
banged and shouted until they were tired; but the
jailer had informed them that they were to be con-
fined there for years, and when the Potentate arrived
they had resigned themselves to despair. The Jolly-
cum-pop, however, was affected in a different way.
It seemed to him the most amusing joke in the world
that a person should deliberately walk into a prison
cell and be locked up for several years; and he lay
down on his little bed and laughed himself to sleep.
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
That night one of the boys sat at his iron-barred
window, wide awake. He was a truant, and had
never yet been in any place from which he could not
run away. He felt that his schoolfellows depended
upon him to run away and bring them assistance, and
he knew that his reputation as a truant was at stake.
His responsibility was so heavy that he could not
sleep, and he sat at the window, trying to think of a
way to get out. After some hours the moon arose,
and by its light he saw upon the grass, not far from
his window, a number of little creatures which at first
he took for birds or small squirrels; but on looking
more attentively he perceived that they were pig-
widgeons. They were standing around a flat stone,
and seemed to be making calculations on it with a
piece of chalk. At this sight the heart of the Truant
jumped for joy. "Pigwidgeons can do anything," he
said to himself, "and certainly these can get us out."
He tried in various ways to attract the attention
of the pigwidgeons; but as he was afraid to call or
whistle very loud, for fear of arousing the jailer, he
did not succeed. Happily he thought of a pea-shooter
which he had in his pocket, and taking this out, he
blew a pea into the midst of the little group with such
force that it knocked the chalk from the hand of the
pigwidgeon who was using it. The little fellows looked
up in astonishment, and perceived the Truant beckon-
ing to them from his window. At first they stood
angrily regarding him. But on his urging them in a
loud whisper to come to his relief, they approached
the prison, and, clambering up a vine, soon reached his
window-sill. The Truant now told his mournful tale,
to which the pigwidgeons listened very attentively,
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
and then, after a little consultation among themselves,
one of them said: "We will get you out if you will tell
us how to divide five sevenths by six."
The poor Truant was silent for an instant, and then
he said: "That is not the kind of thing I am good at,
but I expect some of the other fellows could tell you
easily enough. Our windows must be all in a row,
and you can climb up and ask some of them, and if
any one tells you, will you get us all out?"
"Yes," said the pigwidgeon who had spoken before.
"We will do that, for we are very anxious to know
how to divide five sevenths by six. We have been
working at it for four or five days, and there won't be
anything worth dividing if we wait much longer."
The pigwidgeons now began to descend the vine.
But one of them lingering a little, the Truant, who
had a great deal of curiosity, asked him what it was
they had to divide.
"There were eight of us," the pigwidgeon answered,
"who helped a farmer's wife, and she gave us a pound
of butter. She did not count us properly, and divided
the butter into seven parts. We did not notice this
at first, and two of the party, who were obliged to go
away to a distance, took their portions and departed,
and now we cannot divide among six the five sevenths
that remain."
"That is a pretty hard thing," said the Truant, "but
I am sure some of the boys can tell you how to do it."
The pigwidgeons visited the next four cells, which
were occupied by four boys, but not one of them could
tell how to divide five sevenths by six. The Prince
was questioned, but he did not know, and neither did
the course-marker, nor the map-maker. It was not
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
until they came to the cell of the oldest girl that they
received an answer. She was good at mental arith-
metic, and, after a minute's thought, she told them
that it would be five forty-seconds.
"Good!" cried the pigwidgeons. "We will divide
the butter into forty-two parts, and each take five.
And now let us go to work and cut these bars."
Three of the six pigwidgeons were workers in iron,
and they had their little files and saws in pouches by
their sides. They went to work manfully, and the
others helped them, and before morning one bar was
cut in each of the seventeen windows. The cells were
all on the ground floor, and it was quite easy for the
prisoners to clamber out-that is, it was easy for all
but the Jolly-cum-pop. He had laughed so much in
his life that he had grown quite fat, and he found it
impossible to squeeze himself through the opening
made by the removal of one iron bar. The sixteen
other prisoners had all departed. The pigwidgeons
had hurried away to divide their butter into forty-two
parts, and the Jolly-cum-pop still remained in his cell,
convulsed with laughter at the idea of being caught in
such a curious predicament.
"It is the most ridiculous thing in the world," he
said. "I suppose I must stay here and cry until I get
thin." And the idea so tickled him that he laughed
himself to sleep.
The Prince and his party kept together, and hurried
from the prison as fast as they could. When the day
broke they had gone several miles, and then they
stopped to rest. "Where is that Jolly-cum-pop?"
said the Prince. "I suppose he has gone home. He
is a pretty fellow to lead us into this trouble and then
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
desert us! How are we to find the way back to his
house? Course-marker, can you tell us the direction
in which we should go?"
"Not until to-night, your Highness," answered the
course-marker, "when I can set my instrument by the
stars."
The Prince's party was now in a doleful plight.
Every one was very hungry. They were in an open
plain, no house was visible, and they knew not which
way to go. They wandered about for some time, look-
ing for a brook or a spring where they might quench
their thirst, and then a rabbit sprang out from some
bushes. The whole party immediately started off in
pursuit of the rabbit. They chased it here, there, back-
ward and forward, through hollows and over hills, until
it ran quite away and disappeared. Then they were
more tired, thirsty, and hungry than before, and, to
add to their miseries, when night came on, the sky
was cloudy, and the course-marker could not set his
instrument by the stars. It would be difficult to find
sixteen people more miserable than the Prince and
his companions when they awoke the next morning
from their troubled sleep on the hard ground. Nearly
starved, they gazed at one another with feelings of
despair.
"I feel," said the Prince, in a weak voice, "that there
is nothing I would not do to obtain food. I would
willingly become a slave if my master would give me
a good breakfast."
"So would I," ejaculated each of the others.
About an hour after this, as they were all sitting
disconsolately upon the ground, they saw, slowly ap-
proaching, a large cart drawn by a pair of oxen. On
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
the front of the cart, which seemed to be heavily
loaded, sat a man with a red beard, reading a book.
The boys, when they saw the cart, set up a feeble
shout, and the man, lifting his eyes from his book,
drove directly toward the group on the ground. Dis-
mounting, he approached Prince Hassak, who imme-
diately told him his troubles and implored relief.
"We will do anything," said the Prince, "to obtain
food."
Standing for a minute in a reflective mood, the
man with the red beard addressed the Prince in a slow,
meditative manner. "How would you like," he said,
"to form a nucleus?"
"Can we get anything to eat by it?" eagerly asked
the Prince.
"Yes," replied the man, "you can."
"We'll do it!" immediately cried the whole sixteen,
without waiting for further information.
"Which will you do first," said the man, "listen to
my explanations, or eat?"
"Eat!" cried the entire sixteen in chorus.
The man now produced from his cart a quantity of
bread, meat, wine, and other provisions, which he dis-
tributed generously, but judiciously, to the hungry
Prince and his followers. Every one had enough, but
no one too much. Soon, revived and strengthened,
they felt like new beings.
"Now," said the Prince, "we are ready to form a
nucleus, as we promised. How is it done?"
"I will explain the matter to you in a few words,"
said the man with the red beard. "For a long time I
have been desirous to found a city. In order to do
this one must begin by forming a nucleus. Every
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
great city is started from a nucleus. A few persons
settle down in some particular spot, and live there.
Then they are a nucleus. Then other people come
there, and gather around this nucleus, and then more
people come, and more, until in course of time there
is a great city. I have loaded this cart with provi-
sions, tools, and other things that are necessary for
my purpose, and have set out to find some people who
would be willing to form a nucleus. I am very glad
to have found you, and that you are willing to enter
into my plan. And this seems a good spot for us to
settle upon."
"What is the first thing to be done?" said the
Prince.
"We must all go to work," said the man with the
red beard, "to build dwellings, and also a school-house
for these young people. Then we must till some
ground in the suburbs, and lay the foundations, at
least, of a few public buildings."
"All this will take a good while, will it not?" said
the Prince.
"Yes," said the man, "it will take a good while,
and the sooner we set about it, the better."
Thereupon tools were distributed among the party,
and Prince, courtiers, boys, girls, and all, went to work
to build houses and form the nucleus of a city.
When the jailer looked into his cells in the morn-
ing, and found that all but one of his prisoners had
escaped, he was utterly astounded, and his face, when
the Jolly-cum-pop saw him, made that individual roar
with laughter. The jailer, however, was a man accus-
tomed to deal with emergencies. "You need not
laugh," he said; "everything shall go on as before, and
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
I shall take no notice of the absence of your compan-
ions. You are now numbered One to Seventeen
inclusive, and you stand charged with highway rob-
bery, forgery, treason, smuggling, barn-burning, brib-
ery, poaching, usury, piracy, witchcraft, assault and
battery, using false weights and measures, burglary,
counterfeiting, robbing hen-roosts, conspiracy, and
poisoning your grandmother by proxy. I intended
to-day to dress the convicts in prison garb, and you
shall immediately be so clothed."
"I shall require seventeen suits," said the Jolly-cum-
pop.
"Yes," said the jailer, "they shall be furnished."
"And seventeen rations a day," said the Jolly-cum-
pop.
"Certainly," replied the jailer.
"This is luxury," roared the Jolly-cum-pop. "I
shall spend my whole time in eating and putting on
clean clothes."
Seventeen large prison suits were now brought to
the Jolly-cum-pop. He put one on, and hung up the
rest in his cell. These suits were half bright yellow
and half bright green, with spots of bright red as big
as saucers.
The jailer now had doors cut from one cell to an-
other. "If the Potentate comes here and wants to
look at the prisoners," he said to the Jolly-cum-pop,
"you must appear in cell Number One, so that he can
look through the hole in the door and see you. Then,
as he walks along the corridor, you must walk through
the cells, and whenever he looks into a cell you must
be there."
"He will think," merrily replied the Jolly-cum-pop,
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
"that all your prisoners are very fat, and that the
little girls have grown up into big men."
"I shall endeavor to explain that," said the jailer.
For several days the Jolly-cum-pop was highly
amused at the idea of his being seventeen criminals,
and he would sit first in one cell and then in another,
trying to look like a ferocious pirate, a hard-hearted
usurer, or a mean-spirited chicken-thief, and laughing
heartily at his failures. But after a time he began
to tire of this, and to have a strong desire to see what
sort of a tunnel the Prince's miners and rock-splitters
were making under his house. "I had hoped," he
said to himself, "that I should pine away in confine-
ment, and so be able to get through the window-bars.
But with nothing to do, and seventeen rations a day,
I see no chance of that. But I must get out of this
jail, and as there seems no other way, I will revolt."
Thereupon he shouted to the jailer through the hole
in the door of his cell: "We have revolted! We have
risen in a body, and have determined to resist your
authority and break jail!"
When the jailer heard this he was greatly troubled.
"Do not proceed to violence," he said. "Let us
parley."
"Very well," replied the Jolly-cum-pop, "but you
must open the cell door. We cannot parley through
a hole."
The jailer thereupon opened the cell door, and the
Jolly-cum-pop, having wrapped sixteen suits of
clothes around his left arm as a shield, and holding in
his right hand the iron bar which had been cut from
his window, stepped boldly into the corridor and con-
fronted the jailer and his myrmidons.
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
"It will be useless for you to resist," he said. "You
are but four, and we are seventeen. If you had been
wise you would have made us all cheating shop-
keepers, chicken-thieves, or usurers. Then you might
have been able to control us. But when you see be-
fore you a desperate highwayman, a daring smuggler,
a bloodthirsty pirate, a wily poacher, a powerful ruf-
fian, a reckless burglar, a bold conspirator, and a
murderer by proxy, you well may tremble!"
The jailer and his myrmidons looked at each other
in dismay.
"We sigh for no blood," continued the Jolly-cum-
pop, "and will readily agree to terms. We will give
you your choice: Will you allow us honorably to sur-
render, and peacefully disperse to our homes, or shall
we rush upon you in a body, and, after overpowering
you by numbers, set fire to the jail, and escape through
the crackling timbers of the burning pile?"
The jailer reflected for a minute. "It would be
better, perhaps," he said, "that you should surrender
and disperse to your homes."
The Jolly-cum-pop agreed to these terms, and the
great gate being opened, he marched out in good order.
"Now," said he to himself, "the thing for me to do is
to get home as fast as I can, or that jailer may change
his mind." But, being in a great hurry, he turned the
wrong way, and walked rapidly into a country un-
known to him. His walk was a very merry one. "By
this time," he said to himself, "the Prince and his fol-
lowers have returned to my house, and are tired of
watching the rock-splitters and miners. How amused
they will be when they see me come back in this gay
suit of green and yellow with red spots, and with six-
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
teen similar suits upon my arm! How my own dogs
will bark at me! How my own servants will not
know me! It is the funniest thing I ever knew of!"
And his gay laugh echoed far and wide. But when
he had gone several miles without seeing any signs of
his habitation, his gayety abated. "It would have
been much better," he said, as he sat down to rest
under the shade of a tree, "if I had brought with me
sixteen rations instead of these sixteen suits of clothes."
The Jolly-cum-pop soon set out again, but he walked
a long distance without seeing any person or any
house. Toward the close of the afternoon he stopped,
and looking back, he saw coming toward him a large
party of foot travellers. In a few moments he per-
ceived that the person in advance was the jailer. At
this the Jolly-cum-pop could not restrain his merri-
ment. "How comically it has all turned out!" he
exclaimed. "Here I've taken all this trouble, and
tired myself out, and nearly starved myself, and the
jailer comes now, with a crowd of people, to take
me back. I might as well have stayed where I was.
Ha! ha!"
The jailer now left his party and came running tow-
ard the Jolly-cum-pop. "I pray you, sir," he said,
bowing very low, "do not cast us off."
"Who are you all?" asked the Jolly-cum-pop, look-
ing with much surprise at the jailer's companions, who
were now quite near.
"We are myself, my three myrmidons, and our
wives and children. Our situations were such good
ones that we married long ago, and our families lived
in the upper stories of the prison. But when all the
convicts had left we were afraid to remain, for, should
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
the Potentate again visit the prison, he would be dis-
appointed and enraged at finding no prisoners, and
probably would punish us grievously. So we deter-
mined to follow you, and to ask you to let us go with
you, wherever you are going. I wrote a report, which
I fastened to the great gate, and in it I stated that
sixteen of the convicts escaped by the aid of outside
confederates, and that seventeen of them mutinied in
a body and broke jail."
"That report," laughed the Jolly-cum-pop, "your
Potentate will not readily understand."
"If I were there," said the jailer, "I could explain
it to him. But, as it is, he must work it out for him-
self."
"Have you anything to eat with you?" asked the
Jolly-cum-pop.
"Oh, yes," said the jailer, "we brought provisions."
"Well, then, I gladly take you under my protec-
tion. Let us have supper. I have had nothing to eat
since morning, and the weight of sixteen extra suits
of clothes does not help to refresh one."
The Jolly-cum-pop and his companions slept that
night under some trees, and started off early the next
morning. "If I could only get myself turned in the
proper direction," said he, "I believe we should soon
reach my house."
The Prince, his courtiers, the boys and girls, the
course-marker, and the map-maker worked industri-
ously for several days at the foundation of their city.
They dug the ground, they carried stones, they cut
down trees. This work was very hard for all of them,
for they were not used to it. After a few days' labor,
the Prince said to the man with the red beard, who
--
1
1
I
162


PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
was reading his book: "I think we have now formed
a nucleus. Any one can see that this is intended to
be a city."
"No," said the man with the red beard, "nothing is
truly a nucleus until something is gathered around it.
Proceed with your work, while I continue my studies
upon civil government."
Toward the close of that day the red-bearded man
raised his eyes from his book and beheld the Jolly-cum-
pop and his party approaching. "Hurrah!" he cried,
"we are already attracting settlers!" And he went
forth to meet them.
When the Prince and the courtiers saw the Jolly-
cum-pop in his bright and variegated dress, they did
not know him. But the boys and girls soon recognized
his jovial face, and, tired as they were, they set up a
hearty laugh, in which they were loudly joined by
their merry friend. While the Jolly-cum-pop was
listening to the adventures of the Prince and his com-
panions, and telling what had happened to himself,
the man with the red beard was talking to the jailer
and his party, and urging them to gather around the
nucleus which had been here formed, and help to build
a city.
"Nothing will suit us better," exclaimed the jailer,
"and the sooner we build a town wall so as to keep
off the Potentate, if he should come this way, the better
shall we be satisfied."
The next morning the Prince said to the red-
bearded man: "Others have gathered around us. We
have formed a nucleus, and thus have done all that
we promised to do. We shall now depart."
The man objected strongly to this, but the Prince
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PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
paid no attention to his words. "What troubles me
most," he said to the Jolly-cum-pop, "is the dis-
graceful condition of our clothes. They have been so
torn and soiled during our unaccustomed work that
they are not fit to be seen."
"As for that," said the Jolly-cum-pop, "I have six-
teen suits with me, in which you can all dress, if you
like. They are of unusual patterns, but they are new
and clean."
"It is better," said the Prince, "for persons in my
station to appear inordinately gay than to be seen in
rags and dirt. We will accept your clothes."
Thereupon the Prince and each of the others put
on a prison dress of bright green and yellow with
large red spots. There were some garments left over,
for each boy wore only a pair of trousers with the
waistband tied around his neck, and holes cut for his
arms, while the large jackets, with the sleeves tucked,
made very good dresses for the girls. The Prince and
his party, accompanied by the Jolly-cum-pop, now
left the red-bearded man and his new settlers to con-
tinue the building of the city, and set off on their
journey. The course-marker had not been informed
the night before that they were to go away that morn-
ing, and consequently had not set his instrument by
the stars.
"As we do not know in which way we should go,"
said the Prince, "one way will be as good as another,
and if we can find a road let us take it. It will be
easier walking."
In an hour or two they found a road, and they took
it. After journeying the greater part of the day, they
reached the top of a low hill, over which the road
164


PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
ran, and saw before them a glittering sea and the
spires and houses of a city.
"It is the city of Yan," said the course-marker.
"And as we are so
"That is true," said the Prince.
near, we may as well go there."
The astonishment of the people of Yan, when this
party, dressed in bright green and yellow with red
spots, passed through their streets, was so great that
the Jolly-cum-pop roared with laughter. This set
the boys and girls and all the people laughing, and
the sounds of merriment became so uproarious that
when they reached the palace the King came out to
see what was the matter. What he thought when he
saw his nephew in his fantastic guise, accompanied by
a party apparently composed of sixteen other lunatics,
cannot now be known. But, after hearing the Prince's
story, he took him into an inner apartment, and thus
addressed him: "My dear Hassak : The next time you
pay me a visit, I beg, for your sake and my own, that
you will come in the ordinary way. You have suffi-
ciently shown to the world that, when a Prince de-
sires to travel, it is often necessary for him to go out
of his way on account of obstacles."
"My dear uncle,” replied Hassak, "your words shall
not be forgotten."
After a pleasant visit of a few weeks, the Prince and
his party (in new clothes) returned (by sea) to Itoby,
whence the Jolly-cum-pop soon repaired to his home.
There he found the miners and rock-splitters still at
work at the tunnel, which had now penetrated half-´
way through the hill on which stood his house. "You
may go home," he said, "for the Prince has changed
his plans. I will put a door to this tunnel, and it will
165


PRINCE HASSAK'S MARCH
make an excellent cellar in which to keep my wine
and provisions."
The day after the Prince's return his map-maker
said to him: "Your Highness, according to your com-
mands, I made, each day, a map of your progress to
the city of Yan. Here it is."
The Prince glanced at it and then he cast his eyes
upon the floor. "Leave me," he said. "I would be
alone."
City of
Itoby
Jolly-cum-Pop's
House
Place of The
Tabbit
Hunt
Prison
Ann
Sis
City of
Yan
Where the Nucleus
was formed
THE MAP OF THE PRINCE'S JOURNEY FROM ITOBY TO YAN.
166


THE BATTLE OF THE THIRD
COUSINS


1
1
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THE BATTLE OF THE THIRD
COUSINS
HERE was never any one who could correctly
of Mutjado. The reason
for this was that the boundary line was not station-
ary. Whenever the Autocrat felt the need of money,
he sent his tax-gatherers far and wide, and people
who up to that time had no idea of such a thing,
found that they lived in the territory of Mutjado.
But when times were ordinarily prosperous with
him, and people in the outlying districts needed pro-
tection or public works, the dominion of the Autocrat
became very much contracted.
In the course of time, the Autocrat of Mutjado fell
into bad health and sent for his doctor. That learned
man prescribed some medicine for him, and as this
did him no good, he ordered another kind. He con-
tinued this method of treatment until the Autocrat
had swallowed the contents of fifteen phials and flasks,
some large and some small. As none of these was of
the slightest benefit, the learned doctor produced an-
other kind of medicine which he highly extolled.
"Take a dose of this twice a day," said he, "and you
will soon find—”
"A new medicine?" interrupted the Autocrat, in
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
disgust. "I will have none of it! Those others were
bad enough, and rather than start with a new physic,
I prefer to die. Take away your bottles, little and
big, and send me my secretary."
When that officer arrived, the Autocrat informed
him that he had determined to write his will, and that
he should set about it at once.
The Autocrat of Mutjado had no son, and his nearest
male relatives were a third cousin on his father's side,
and another third cousin on his mother's side. Of
course these persons were in nowise related to each
other, and, as they lived in distant countries, he had
never seen either of them. He had made up his mind
to leave his throne and dominions to one of these per-
sons, but he could not determine which of them should
be his heir.
"One has as good a right as the other," he said to
himself, "and I can't bother my brains settling the
matter for them. Let them fight it out, and whoever
conquers shall be Autocrat of Mutjado."
Having arranged the affair in this manner in his
will, he signed it, and soon after died.
The Autocrat's third cousin on his father's side was
a young man of about twenty-five, named Alberdin.
He was a good horseman, and trained in the arts of
warfare, and when he was informed of the terms of his
distinguished relative's will, he declared himself per-
fectly willing to undertake the combat for the throne.
He set out for Mutjado, where he arrived in a reason-
able time.
The third cousin on the mother's side was a very
different person. He was a boy of about twelve years
of age, and as his father and mother had died when he
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
was very young, he had been for nearly all his life
under the charge of an elderly and prudent man, who
acted as his guardian and tutor. These two, also, soon
arrived in Mutjado—the boy, Phedo, being mounted
on a little donkey, which was his almost constant com-
panion. As soon as they reached the territory of the
late Autocrat, old Salim, the tutor, left the boy at an
inn, and went forward by himself to take a look at
the other third cousin. When he saw Alberdin
mounted on his fine horse, and looking so strong and
valiant, his heart was much disturbed.
"I had hoped," he said to himself, "that the other
one was a small boy, but such does not appear to be
the case. There is but one way to have a fair fight be-
tween these two. They must not now be allowed to
see each other. If they can be kept apart until my
boy grows up, he will then be able, with the military
education which I intend he shall have, to engage in
combat with any man. They must not meet for at
least thirteen years. Phedo will then be twenty-five,
and able to do worthy combat. To be sure, I am
somewhat old myself to undertake to superintend so
long a delay, but I must do my best to keep well and
strong, and to attain the greatest possible longevity."
Salim had always been in the habit of giving thirty-
two chews to every mouthful of meat, and a propor-
tionate number of chews to other articles of food, and
had, so far, been very healthy. But he now deter-
mined to increase the number of chews to thirty-six,
for it would be highly necessary for him to live until
it was time for the battle between the third cousins to
take place.
Having made up his mind on these points, the old
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
tutor introduced himself to Alberdin, and told him
that he had come to arrange the terms of combat.
"In the first place," said Alberdin, "I should like to
know what sort of a person my opponent is."
"He is not a cavalryman like you," answered Salim.
"He belongs to the heavy infantry."
At this, Alberdin looked grave. He knew very
well that a stout and resolute man on foot had often
the advantage of one who is mounted. He would have
preferred meeting a horseman, and fighting on equal
terms.
"Has he had much experience in war?" asked the
young man.
"It is not long," answered the tutor, "since he was
almost constantly in arms, winter and summer."
"He must be a practised warrior," thought Alber-
din. "I must put myself in good fighting trim before
I meet him."
After some further conversation on the subject, the
old man advised Alberdin to go into camp on a beau-
tiful plain not far from the base of a low line of moun-
tains.
"Your opponent," said he, "will intrench himself
in the valley on the other side. With the mountains
between you, neither of you need fear a surprise. And
when both are ready, a place of meeting can be ap-
pointed."
"Now, then," said Salim to himself, when this had
been settled, "if I can keep them apart for thirteen
years, all may be well."
As soon as possible, Alberdin pitched a tent upon
the appointed spot, and began to take daily warlike
exercise in the plain, endeavoring in every way to put
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
himself and his horse into proper condition for the
combat.
On the other side of the mountain, old Salim in-
trenched himself and the boy Phedo. He carefully
studied several books on military engineering, and
caused a fortified camp to be constructed on the most
approved principles. It was surrounded by high
ramparts, and outside of these was a moat filled with
water. In the centre of the camp was a neat little
house which was well provided with books, provisions,
and everything necessary for a prolonged stay. When
the drawbridge was up, it would be impossible for
Alberdin to get inside of the camp. Moreover, the
ramparts were so high that he could not look over
them to see what sort of antagonist he was to have.
Old Salim did not tell the boy why he brought him
here to live. It would be better to wait until he was
older before informing him of the battle which had
been decreed. He told Phedo that it was necessary
for him to have a military education, which could
very well be obtained in a place like this; he was
also very careful to let him know that there was a
terrible soldier in that part of the country who might
at any time, if it were not for the intrenchments,
pounce down upon him and cut him to pieces. Every
fine day, Phedo was allowed to take a ride on his
donkey outside of the fortifications, but during this
time the old tutor kept a strict watch on the moun-
tain, and if a horseman had made his appearance, little
Phedo would have been whisked inside, and the draw-
bridge would have been up in a twinkling.
After about two weeks of this life, Phedo found it
dreadfully stupid to see no one but his old tutor, and
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
never to go outside of these great ramparts except for
donkey-rides, which were generally very short. He
therefore determined, late one moonlight night, to go
out and take a ramble by himself. He was not afraid
of the dreadful soldier of whom the old man had told
him, because at that time of night this personage
would, of course, be in bed and asleep. Considering
these things, he quietly dressed himself, took down a
great key from over his sleeping tutor's head, opened
the heavy gate, let down the drawbridge, mounted
upon his donkey, and rode forth upon the moonlit
plain.
That night-ride was a very delightful one, and for a
long time the boy and the donkey rambled and ran;
first going this way and then that, they gradually
climbed the mountain, and, reaching the brow, they
trotted about for a while, and then went down the
other side. The boy had been so twisted and turned
in his course that he did not notice that he was not
descending toward his camp, and the donkey, whose
instinct told it that it was not going the right way,
was also told by its instinct that it did not wish to go
the right way, and that the intrenchments offered it
no temptations to return. When the morning dawned,
Phedo perceived that he was really lost, and he began
to be afraid that he might meet the terrible soldier.
But, after a time, he saw riding toward him a very
pleasant-looking young man on a handsome horse, and
he immediately took courage.
"Now," said he to himself, "I am no longer in
danger. If that horrible cut-throat should appear,
this good gentleman will protect me."
Alberdin had not seen any one for a long time, and
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
he was very glad to meet with so nice a little boy.
When Phedo told him that he was lost, he invited
him to come to his tent, near by, and have breakfast.
While they were eating their meal, Alberdin asked
the boy if, in the course of his rambles, he had met
with a heavy-infantry soldier, probably armed to the
teeth, and very large and strong.
"Oh, I've heard of that dreadful man!" cried Phedo,
"and I am very glad I did not meet him. If he
comes, I hope you'll protect me from him."
"I will do that," said Alberdin. "But I am afraid
I shall not be able to help you find your way home,
for in doing so I should throw myself off my guard,
and might be set upon unexpectedly by this fellow,
with whom I have a regular engagement to fight.
There is to be a time fixed for the combat, for which
I feel myself nearly ready, but I have no doubt that
my enemy will be very glad to take me at a disad.
vantage if I give him a chance.”
Phedo looked about him with an air of content.
The tent was large and well furnished; there seemed
to be plenty of good things to eat ; the handsome horse-
man was certainly a very good.humored and agreeable
gentleman; and, moreover, the tent was not shut in by
high and gloomy ramparts.
"I do not think you need trouble yourself," said
he to his host, "to help me to find my way home. I
live with my tutor, and I am sure that when he knows
I am gone he will begin to search for me, and after
a while he will find me. Until then I can be very
comfortable here."
For several days the two third cousins of the Auto-
crat lived together in the tent, and enjoyed each
175


BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
other's society very much. Then Alberdin began to
grow a little impatient.
"If I am to fight this heavy-infantryman," he
said, "I should like to do it at once. I am now quite
ready, and I think he ought to be. I expected to hear
from him before this time, and I shall start out and
see if I can get any news of his intentions. I don't
care about going over the mountain without giving
him notice, but the capital city of Mutjado is only a
day's ride to the west, and there I can cause inquiries
to be made as to when he would like to meet me, and
where."
"I will go with you," said Phedo, greatly delighted
at the idea of visiting the city.
"Yes, I will take you," said Alberdin. "Your
tutor doesn't seem inclined to come for you, and, of
course, I can't leave you here.”
The next day, Alberdin on his horse and Phedo on
his donkey set out for the city, where they arrived
late in the afternoon. After finding a comfortable
lodging, Alberdin sent messengers to the other side of
the mountain, where his opponent was supposed to be
encamped, and gave them power to arrange with him
for a meeting. He particularly urged them to try to
see the old man who had come to him at first, and who
had seemed to be a very fair-minded and sensible per-
son. In two days, however, the messengers returned,
stating that they had found what they supposed to
be the intrenched camp of the heavy-infantry-man for
whom they had been sent in search, but that it was
entirely deserted, and nobody could be seen anywhere
near it.
"It is very likely," said Alberdin, "that he has
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
watched my manœuvres and exercises from the top of
the mountain, and has concluded to run away. I shall
give him a reasonable time to show himself, and then,
if he does not come forward, I shall consider him
beaten, and claim the Autocracy."
"That is a good idea," said Phedo, "but I think, if
you can, you ought to find him and kill him, or drive
him out of the country. That's what I should do, if I
were you."
"Of course I shall do that, if I can," said Alberdin,
"but I can not be expected to wait for him forever."
When his intention had been proclaimed, Alberdin
was informed of something which he did not know
before, and that was that the late Autocrat had left
an only daughter, a princess about twenty years old.
But, although she was his daughter, she could not in-
herit his crown, for the laws of the country forbade
that any woman should become Autocrat. A happy
idea now struck Alberdin.
"I will marry the Princess," he said, "and then
every one will think that it is the most suitable thing
for me to become Autocrat."
So Alberdin sent to the Princess to ask permission
to speak with her, and was granted an audience.
With much courtesy and politeness he made known
his plans to the lady, and hoped that she would con-
sider it advisable to marry him.
"I am sorry to interfere with any of your arrange-
ments," said the Princess, "but as soon as I heard the
terms of my father's will, I made up my mind to marry
the victor in the contest. As I cannot inherit the
throne myself, the next best thing is to be the wife of
the man who does. Go forth, then, and find your
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
antagonist, and when you have conquered him, I will
marry you."
"And if he conquers me, you will marry him?" said
Alberdin.
"Yes, sir," answered the Princess, with a smile, and
dismissed him.
It was plain enough that there was nothing for Al-
berdin to do but to go and look for the heavy-infantry-
man.
Phedo was very anxious to accompany him,
and the two, mounted as before, set out from the city
on their quest.
When old Salim, the tutor of Phedo, awoke in the
morning and found the boy gone, he immediately
imagined that the youngster had run away to his old
home. So he set forth with all possible speed, hoping
to overtake him. But when he reached the distant
town where Phedo had lived, he found that the boy
had not been there; and, after taking some needful
rest, he retraced his steps, crossed the mountains, and
made his way toward the capital city, hoping to find
news of him there. It was necessary for him to be
very careful in his inquiries, for he wished no one to
find out that the little boy he was looking for was the
third cousin of the late Autocrat on the mother's side.
He therefore disguised himself as a migratory medical
man, and determined to use all possible caution.
When he reached the camp of the young horseman,
Alberdin, and found that personage gone, his suspi-
cions became excited.
"If these two have run off together," he said to
himself, "my task is indeed difficult. If the man dis-
covers it is the boy he has to fight, my poor Phedo
will be cut to pieces in a twinkling. I do not believe
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
there has been any trouble yet, for the boy does not
know that he is to be one of the combatants, and the
man would not be likely to suspect it. Come what
may, the fight must not take place for thirteen years.
And in order that I may still better preserve my
health and strength to avert the calamity during that
period, I will increase my number of chews to forty-
two to each mouthful of meat."
When old Salim reached the city, he soon found
that Alberdin and the boy had been there, and that
they had gone away together.
"Nothing has happened so far," said the old man,
with a sigh of relief, "and things may turn out all
right yet. I'll follow them, but I must first find out
what that cavalryman had to say to the Princess."
For he had been told of the interview at the palace.
It was not long before the migratory medical man
was brought to the Princess. There was nothing the
matter with her, but she liked to meet with persons
of skill and learning to hear what they had to say.
"Have you any specialty?" she asked of the old
man.
"Yes," said he, "I am a germ-doctor."
"What is that?" asked the Princess.
"All diseases,” replied the old man, "come from
germs, generally very little ones. My business is to
discover these, and find out all about them."
"Then I suppose," said the Princess, "you know
how to cure the diseases?"
"You must not expect too much," answered the old
man. "It ought to be a great satisfaction to us to
know what sort of germ is at the bottom of our woes."
"I am very well, myself," said the Princess, "and,
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
so far as I know, none of my household is troubled
by germs. But there is something the matter with my
mind which I wish you could relieve." She then told
the old man how she had determined to marry the
victor in the contest for her father's throne, and how
she had seen one of the claimants whom she con-
sidered to be a very agreeable and deserving young
man, while the other, she had heard, was a great,
strong foot-soldier, who was probably very disagree-
able, and even horrid. If this one should prove the
conqueror, she did not know what she should do.
"You see, I am in a great deal of trouble,” said she.
"Can you do anything to help me?"
The pretending migratory medical man looked at
her attentively for a few moments, and then he said:
"The reason why you intend to marry the victor in
the coming contest is that you wish to remain here in
your father's palace, and to continue to enjoy the
comforts and advantages to which you have been ac-
customed."
"Yes," said the Princess, "that is it."
"Well, having discovered the germ of your dis-
order," said the old man, "the great point is gained.
I will see what I can do."
And with a respectful bow he left her presence.
"Well," said old Salim to himself, as he went away,
“she can never marry my boy, for that is certainly out
of the question. But now that I have found out her
motive, I think I can arrange matters satisfactorily,
so far as she is concerned. But to settle the affair be-
tween that young man and Phedo is immensely more
difficult. The first thing is to find them."
Having learned the way they had gone, the old
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
tutor travelled diligently, and in two days came up
with Alberdin and Phedo. When he first caught
sight of them, he was very much surprised to see that
they were resting upon the ground quite a long dis-
tance apart, with a little stream between them. No-
ticing that Alberdin's back was toward him, he threw
off his disguise and hastened to Phedo. The boy re-
ceived him with the greatest delight, and, after many
embraces, they sat down to talk. Phedo told the old
man all that had happened, and finished by relating
that, as they had that day stopped by this stream to
rest, Alberdin had taken it into his head to inquire
into the parentage of his young companion, and
after many questions about his family, it had been
made clear to both of them that they were the two
third cousins who were to fight for the Autocracy of
Mutjado.
"He is very angry," said the boy, "at the tricks that
have been played upon him, and went off and left me.
Is it true that I am to fight him? I don't want to do
it, for I like him very much."
"It will be a long time before you are old enough
to fight," said Salim, "so we need not consider that.
You stay here, and I'll go over and talk to him."
Salim then crossed the stream, and approached Al-
berdin. When the young man saw him, and recog-
nized him as the person who had arranged the two
encampments, he turned upon him with fury.
"Wretched old man, who came to me as the emissary
of my antagonist, you are but the tutor of that boy!
If I had known the truth at first, I would have met
him instantly, would have conquered him without
hurting a hair on his head, and carrying him bound
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BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
to the capital city, would have claimed the Autocracy,
and would now have been sitting upon the throne.
Instead of that, look at the delay and annoyance to
which I have been subjected. I have also taken such
a fancy to the boy that, rather than hurt him or injure
his prospects, I would willingly resign my pretensions
to the throne, and go back contentedly to my own
city. But this cannot now be done. I have fallen
in love with the daughter of the late Autocrat, and
she will marry none but the victorious claimant. Be-
hold to what a condition you have brought me!"
The old man regarded him with attention.
"I wish very much," said he, "to defer the settle-
ment of this matter for thirteen years. Are you will-
ing to wait so long?"
"No, I am not," said Alberdin.
"Very well, then," said the old man, "each third
cousin must retire to his camp, and as soon as matters
can be arranged the battle must take place."
"There is nothing else to be done," said Alberdin, in
a troubled voice, "but I shall take care that the boy
receives no injury if it can possibly be avoided."
The three now retraced their steps, and in a few
days were settled down, Alberdin in his tent in the
plain, and Salim and Phedo in their intrenchments on
the other side of the low mountain. The old man now
gave himself up to deep thought. He had discovered
the germ of Alberdin's trouble, and in a few days he had
arranged his plans, and went over to see the young man.
"It has been determined," said he, "that a syndicate
is to be formed to attend to this business for Phedo."
"A syndicate !" cried Alberdin. "What is that?"
"A syndic," answered Salim, "is a person who at-
182


BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
tends to business for others, and a syndicate is a body
of men who are able to conduct certain affairs better
than any individual can do it. In a week from to-day,
Phedo's syndicate will meet you in the large plain
outside of the capital city. There the contest will
take place. Will you be ready?"
"I don't exactly understand it," said Alberdin, "but
I shall be there."
General notice was given of the coming battle of the
contestants for the throne, and thousands of the in-
habitants of the Autocracy assembled on the plain on
the appointed day. The Princess with her ladies was
there, and as everybody was interested, everybody was
anxious to see what would happen.
Alberdin rode into the open space in the centre of
the plain, and demanded that his antagonist should
appear. Thereupon old Salim came forward, leading
Phedo by the hand.
"This is the opposing heir," he said. "But as every
one can see that he is too young to fight a battle, a
syndicate has been appointed to attend to the matter
for him; there is nothing in the will of the late
Autocrat which forbids this arrangement. The syndi-
cate will now appear."
At this command there came into the arena a horse-
man heavily armed; a tall foot-soldier completely
equipped for action; an artilleryman with a small
cannon on wheels; a sailor with a boarding-pike and
a drawn cutlass, and a soldier with a revolving gun
which discharged one hundred and twenty balls a
minute.
"All being ready," exclaimed Salim, "the combat
for the Autocracy will begin!"
183


BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
Alberdin took a good long look at the syndicate
ranged before him. Then he dismounted from his
horse, drew his sword, and stuck it, point downward,
into the sand.
"I surrender!" he said.
"So do I!" cried the Princess, running toward him,
and throwing herself into his arms.
The eyes of Alberdin sparkled with joy.
"Let the Autocracy go!" he cried. "Now that I
have my Princess, the throne and the crown are noth-
ing to me."
"So long as I have you," returned the Princess, "I
am content to resign all the comforts and advantages
to which I have been accustomed."
Phedo, who had been earnestly talking with his
tutor, now looked up.
"You shall not resign anything!" he cried. "We
are all of the same blood, and we will join together
and form a royal family, and we shall all live at the
palace. Alberdin and my tutor shall manage the
government for me until I am grown up, and if I
have to go to school for a few years, I suppose I must.
And that is all there is about it!"
The syndicate was now ordered to retire and dis-
band. The heralds proclaimed Phedo the conquering
heir, and the people cheered and shouted with de-
light. All the virtues of the late Autocrat had come
to him from his mother, and the citizens of Mutjado
much preferred to have a new ruler from the mother's
family.
"I hope you bear no grudge against me," said Salim
to Alberdin, "but if you had been willing to wait for
thirteen years, you and Phedo might have fought on
----
184


BATTLE OF THE THIRD COUSINS
equal terms. As it is now, it would have been as hard
for him to conquer you as for you to conquer the syn-
dicate. The odds would have been quite as great."
"Don't mention it," said Alberdin. "I prefer things
a they are. I should have hated to drive the boy
avay and deprive him of a position which the people
wsh him to have. Now we are all satisfied."
Phedo soon began to show signs that he would
pnbably make a very good Autocrat. He declared
that if he was to be assisted by ministers and cabinet
offters when he came to the throne, he would like
then to be persons who had been educated for their
postions, just as he was to be educated for his own.
Conequently he chose for the head of his cabinet a
brigt and sensible boy, and had him educated as a
Minster of State. For Minister of Finance he chose
anoter boy with a very honest countenance, and for
the oher members of his cabinet suitable youths were
selectd.
Heilso said that he thought there ought to be still
anothe officer, one who would be something like a Min-
ister o General Comfort, who would keep an eye on
the helth and happiness of the subjects, and would
also se that everything went all right in the palace,
not onł in regard to meals, but lots of other things.
For thi office he chose a bright young girl, and had
her eduated for the position of Queen.
185


1
1
1


THE BANISHED KING


m m
1


THE BANISHED KING
HERE was once a kingdom in which everything
go
everybody talked about it, especially the King. The
bad state of affairs troubled him more than it did any
one else, but he could think of no way to make it
better.
"I cannot bear to see things going wrong," he said
to the Queen and his chief councillors. "I wish
I knew how other kingdoms were governed."
One of his councillors offered to go to some other
countries, see how they were governed, and come
back and tell him all about it, but this did not suit
his Majesty.
"You would simply return," he said, "and give me
your ideas about things. I want my own ideas.”
The Queen then suggested that he should take a
vacation, and visit other kingdoms, and see for him-
self how things were managed in them.
This did not suit the King. "A vacation would not
answer," he said. "I should not be gone a week be-
fore something would happen here which would make
it necessary for me to come back."
The Queen then suggested that he be banished for
a certain time, say a year. In that case he could not
189


THE BANISHED KING
come back, and would be at full liberty to visit foreign
kingdoms and find out how they were governed.
This plan pleased the King. "If it were made im-
possible for me to come back," he said, "of course I
could not do it. The scheme is a good one.
Let me
be banished." And he gave orders that his council
should pass a law banishing him for one year.
Preparations were immediately begun to carry out
this plan, and in a day or two the King bade farewell
to the Queen, and left his kingdom, a banished man.
He went away on foot, entirely unattended. But, as
he did not wish to cut off all communication between
himself and his kingdom, he made an arrangement
which he thought a very good one. At easy shouting
distance behind him walked one of the officers of the
court, and at shouting distance behind him walked
another, and so on, at distances of about a hundred
yards from each other. In this way there would al-
ways be a line of men extending from the King to his
palace. Whenever the King had walked a hundred
yards the line moved on after him, and another officer
was put in the gap between the last man and the
palace door. Thus, as the King walked on, his line of
followers lengthened, and was never broken. When-
ever he had any message to send to the Queen or any
other person in the palace, he shouted it to the officer
next him, who shouted it to the one next him, and
it was so passed on until it reached the palace. If he
needed food, clothes, or any other necessary thing, the
order for it was shouted along the line, and the article
was passed to him from man to man, each one carrying
it forward to his neighbor, and then retiring to his
proper place.
190


THE BANISHED KING
In this way the King walked on day by day until
he had passed entirely out of his own kingdom. At
night he stopped at some convenient house on the
road, and if any of his followers did not find himself
near a house or cottage when the King shouted back
the order to halt, he lay down to sleep wherever
he might be. By this time the increasing line of
followers had used up all the officers of the court, and
it became necessary to draw upon some of the under
government officers in order to keep the line perfect.
The King had not gone very far outside the limits
of his dominions when he met a sphinx. He had often
heard of these creatures, although he had never seen
one before. But when he saw the winged body of a
lion with a woman's head, he knew instantly what it
was. He knew, also, that the chief business of a
sphinx was that of asking people questions, and then
getting them into trouble if the right answers were
not given. He therefore determined that he would
not be caught by any such tricks as these, and that
he would be on his guard if the Sphinx spoke to him.
The creature was lying down when the King first saw
it, but when he approached nearer it rose to its feet.
There was nothing savage about its look, and the King
was not at all afraid.
"Where are you going?" said the Sphinx to him, in
a pleasant voice.
"Give it up," replied the King.
"What do you mean by that?" said the other, with
an air of surprise.
"I give that up, too," said the King.
The Sphinx then looked at him quite astonished.
"I don't mind telling you," said the King, "of my
191


THE BANISHED KING
own free will, and not in answer to any question, that
I do not know where I am going. I am a king, as
you may have noticed, and I have been banished from
my kingdom for a year. I am now going to look into
the government of other countries in order that I may
find out what it is that is wrong in my own kingdom.
Everything goes wrong, and there is something very
faulty at the bottom of it all. What this is I want to
discover."
"I am much interested in puzzles and matters of
that kind," said the Sphinx, "and if you like I will go
with you and help to find out what is wrong in your
kingdom."
"All right," said the King. "I shall be glad of your
company."
"What is the meaning of this long line of people
following you at regular distances?" asked the Sphinx.
"Give it up," said the King.
The Sphinx laughed.
"I don't mind telling you," said the King, "of my
own free will, and not in answer to any question, that
these men form a line of communication between me
and my kingdom, where matters, I fear, must be going
on worse than ever, in my absence."
The two now travelled on together until they came
to a high hill, from which they could see, not very far
away, a large city.
"That city," said the Sphinx, "is the capital of
an extensive country. It is governed by a king of
mingled sentiments. Suppose we go there. I think
you will find a government that is rather peculiar."
The King consented, and they walked down the hill
toward the city.
192


THE BANISHED KING
"How did the King get his sentiments mingled?"
asked the King.
"I really don't know how it began," said the Sphinx,
"but the King, when a young man, had so many sen-
timents of different kinds, and he mingled them up so
much, that no one could ever tell exactly what he
thought on any particular subject. Of course, his
people gradually got into the same frame of mind, and
you never can know in this kingdom exactly what
people think or what they are going to do. You will
find all sorts of people here: giants, dwarfs, fairies,
gnomes, and personages of that kind, who have been
drawn here by the mingled sentiments of the people.
I, myself, came into these parts because the people
every now and then take a great fancy to puzzles and
riddles."
On entering the city, the King was cordially wel-
comed by his brother sovereign, to whom he told his
story, and he was lodged in a room in the palace.
Such of his followers as came within the limits of the
city were entertained by the persons near to whose
houses they found themselves when the line halted.
Every day the Sphinx went with him to see the
sights of this strange city. They took long walks
through the streets, and sometimes into the surround-
ing country-always going one way and returning
another, the Sphinx being very careful never to bring
the King back by the same road or street by which
they went. In this way the King's line of followers,
which, of course, lengthened out every time he took
a walk, came to be arranged in long loops through
many parts of the city and suburbs.
Many of the things the King saw showed plainly
193


THE BANISHED KING
the mingled sentiments of the people. For instance,
he would one day visit a great smith's shop, where
heavy masses of iron were being forged, the whole
place resounding with tremendous blows from heavy
hammers, and the clank and din of iron on the anvils,
while the next day he would find the place trans-
formed into a studio, where the former blacksmith
was painting dainty little pictures on the delicate sur-
face of egg-shells. The King of the country, in his
treatment of his visitor, showed his peculiar nature
very plainly. Sometimes he would receive him with
enthusiastic delight, while at others he would upbraid
him with having left his dominions to go wandering
around the earth in this senseless way. One day his
host invited him to attend a royal dinner, but when
he went to the grand dining-hall, pleased with antici-
pations of a splendid feast, he found that the senti-
ments of his Majesty had become mingled, and that he
had determined, instead of having a dinner, to con-
duct the funeral services of one of his servants who
had died the day before. All the guests were obliged
by politeness to remain during the ceremonies, which
our King, not having been acquainted with the de-
ceased servant, did not find at all interesting.
"Now," said the King to the Sphinx, "I am in favor
of moving on. I am tired of this place, where every
sentiment is so mingled with others that you can never
tell what anybody really thinks or feels. I don't be-
lieve any one in this country was ever truly glad or
sorry. They mix one sentiment so quickly with an-
other that they cannot discover the actual ingredi-
ents of any of their impulses."
"When this King first began to mingle his senti-
194


THE BANISHED KING
ments," said the Sphinx, "it was because he always
desired to think and feel exactly right. He did not
wish his feelings to run too much one way or the
other."
"And so he is never either right or wrong," said the
King. "I don't like that at all. I want to be one
thing or the other."
"I have wasted a good deal of time at this place,"
continued the King, as they walked on, "and I have
seen and heard nothing which I wish to teach my
people. But I must find out some way to prevent
everything going wrong in my kingdom. I have tried
plan after plan, and sometimes two or three together,
and have kept this up year after year, and yet nothing
seems to do my kingdom any good."
"Have you heard how things are going on there
now?" asked the Sphinx.
"Give it up," said the King. "But I don't mind
saying of my own accord, and not in answer to any
question, that I have sent a good many communica-
tions to my Queen, but have never received any from
her; so I do not know how things are going on in
my kingdom."
They then travelled on, the long line of followers
coming after, keeping their relative positions a hun-
dred yards apart, and passing over all the ground the
King had traversed in his circuitous walks about the
city. Thus the line crept along, like an enormous
snake, in straight lines, loops, and coils; and every
time the King walked a hundred yards a fresh man
from his capital city was obliged to take his place at
the tail of the procession.
"By the way," said the Sphinx, after they had
195


THE BANISHED KING
walked an hour or more, "if you want to see a king-
dom where there really is something to learn, you
ought to go to the country of the Gaumers, which we
are now approaching."
"All right," said the King. "Let us go there."
In the course of the afternoon they reached the
edge of a high bluff. "On the level ground beneath
this precipice," said the Sphinx, "is the country of the
dwarfs called Gaumers. You can sit on the edge of
the bluff and look down upon it."
The King and the Sphinx then sat down and looked
out from the edge over the country of the little people.
The officer of the court who had formed the head of
the line wished very much to see what they were
looking at, but when the line halted he was not near
enough.
"You will notice," said the Sphinx, "that the little
houses and huts are gathered together in clusters.
Each one of these clusters is under a separate king."
"Why don't they all live under one ruler?" asked
the King. "That is the proper way."
"They do not think so," said the Sphinx. "In each
of these clusters live the Gaumers who are best suited
to one another. And if any Gaumer finds he cannot
get along in one cluster, he goes to another. The
kings are chosen from among the very best of them,
and each one is always very anxious to please his sub-
jects. He knows that everything that he, and his
queen, and his children, eat, or drink, or wear, or have,
must be given to him by his subjects, and if it were
not for them he could not be their ruler. So he
does everything that he can to make them happy and
contented, for he knows if he does not please them and
196


THE BANISHED KING
govern them well, they will gradually drop off from
him and go to other clusters, and he will be left with-
out any people or any kingdom."
"That is a very queer way of ruling," said the King.
"I think the people ought to try to please their sov-
ereign."
"He is only one, and they are a great many," said
the Sphinx. "Consequently they are much more im-
portant than he is. No subject is ever allowed to look
down upon a king simply because he helps to feed and
clothe him and send his children to school. If any
one does a thing of this kind, he is banished until he
learns better."
"All that may be very well for Gaumers," said the
King, "but I can learn nothing from a government
like that, where everything seems to be working in
an opposite direction from what everybody knows is
right and proper. A king anxious to deserve the good
opinion of his subjects! What nonsense! It ought
to be just the other way. The ideas of this people
are as dwarfish as their bodies."
The King now arose and took up the line of march,
turning away from the country of the Gaumers. But
he had not gone more than two or three hundred yards
before he received a message from the Queen. It
came to him very rapidly, every man in the line seem-
ing anxious to shout it to the man ahead of him as
quickly as possible. The message was to the effect
that he must either stop where he was or come home :
his constantly lengthening line of communication had
used up all the chief officers of the government, all the
clerks in the departments, and all the officials of every
grade, excepting the few who were actually needed
T
197


THE BANISHED KING
to carry on the government, and if any more men
went into the line it would be necessary to call upon
the laborers and other persons who could not be
spared.
"I think," said the Sphinx, "that you have made
your line long enough."
"And I think," said the King, "that you made it a
great deal longer than it need to have been by taking
me about in such winding ways."
"It may be so," said the Sphinx, with its mystic
smile.
"Well, I am not going to stop here," said the King,
"and so I might as well go back as soon as I can."
Then he shouted to the head man of the line to pass
on the order that his edict of banishment be revoked.
In a very short time the news came that the edict
was revoked. The King next commanded that the
procession return home, tail-end foremost. The march
was at once begun, each man, as he reached the city,
going immediately to his home and family.
The King and the greater part of the line had a
long and weary journey, as they followed each other
through the country and over the devious ways in
which the Sphinx had led them in the City of Mingled
Sentiments. The King was obliged to pursue all these
complicated turnings, or be separated from his officers,
and so break up his communication with his palace.
The Sphinx accompanied him.
When at last he reached his palace, his line of
former followers having apparently melted entirely
away, he hurried up-stairs to the Queen, leaving the
Sphinx in the courtyard.
The King found, when he had time to look into the
198


THE BANISHED KING
affairs of his dominions, that everything was in the
most admirable condition. The Queen had retained
a few of the best officials to carry on the government,
and had ordered the rest to fall, one by one, into the
line of communication. The King set himself to work
to think about the matter. It was not long before he
came to the conclusion that the main thing which had
been wrong in his kingdom was himself. He was so
greatly impressed with this idea that he went down to
the courtyard to speak to the Sphinx about it.
"I dare say you are right," said the Sphinx, "and I
don't wonder that what you learned when you were
away, and what you have seen since you came back,
have made you feel certain that you were the cause of
everything going wrong in this kingdom. And now,
what do you intend to do about your government?”
"Give it up," promptly replied the King.
"That is exactly what I should advise," said the
Sphinx.
The King did give up his kingdom. He was con-
vinced that being a king was exactly the thing he
was not suited for, and that he would get on much
better in some other business or profession. He deter-
mined to be a traveller and explorer, and to go abroad
into other countries to find out things that might be
useful to his own nation. His Queen had shown that
she could govern the country most excellently, and it
was not at all necessary for him to stay at home. She
had ordered all the men who had made up his line to
follow the King's example and to go into some good
business, in order that, not being bothered with so
many officers, she would be able to get along quite
easily.
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THE BANISHED KING
The King was very successful in his new pursuit,
and although he did not this time have a line of fol-
lowers connecting him with the palace, he frequently
sent home messages which were of use and value to
his nation.
"I may as well retire," said the Sphinx to itself.
"As the King has found his vocation, and everything
is going all right, it is not necessary I should remain
where I may be looked upon as a questionable per-
sonage."
200


THE PHILOPENA





THE PHILOPENA
HERE were once a prince and a princess who,
when quite young, ate a philopena together.
They agreed that the one who, at any hour after sun-
rise the next day, should accept anything from the
other-the giver at the same time saying "Philopena!"
-should be the loser, and that the loser should marry
the other.
They did not meet the next day, as they had ex-
pected, and at the time our story begins many years
had elapsed since they had seen each other, and the
Prince and the Princess were nearly grown up. They
often thought of the philopena they had eaten to-
gether, and wondered if they should know each other
when they met. He remembered her as a pretty
little girl dressed in green silk, playing with a snow-
white cat, while she remembered him as a handsome
boy, wearing a little sword, the handle of which was
covered with jewels. But they knew that each must
have changed a great deal in all this time.
Neither of these young people had any parents.
The Prince lived with guardians and the Princess with
uncles.
The guardians of the Prince were very enterprising
and energetic men, and were allowed to govern the
203


THE PHILOPENA
country until the Prince came of age. The capital
city was a very fine city when the old king died, but
the guardians thought it might be much finer, so they
set to work with all their might and main to improve
it. They tore down old houses and made a great
many new streets; they built grand and splendid
bridges over the river on which the city stood; they
constructed aqueducts to bring water from streams
many miles away; and they were at work all the time
upon some extensive building enterprise.
The Prince did not take much interest in the works
which were going on under direction of his guardians,
and when he rode out, he preferred to go into the
country or to ride through some of the quaint old
streets where nothing had been changed for hundreds
of years.
The uncles of the Princess were very different people
from the guardians of the Prince. There were three
of them, and they were very quiet and cosey old men,
who disliked any kind of bustle or disturbance, and
wished that everything might remain as they had al-
ways known it. It even worried them a little to find
that the Princess was growing up. They would have
much preferred that she should remain exactly as she
was when they first took charge of her. Then they
never would have been obliged to trouble their minds
about any changes in the manner of taking care of
her. But they did not worry their minds very much,
after all. They wished to make her guardianship as
little laborious or exhausting as possible, and so di-
vided the work. One of them took charge of her
education, another of her food and lodging, and the
third of her dress. The first sent for teachers, and
204


THE PHILOPENA
told them to teach her; the second had handsome
apartments prepared for her use, and gave orders that
she should have everything she needed to eat and
to drink; while the third commanded that she should
have a complete outfit of new clothes four times a
year. Thus everything went on very quietly and
smoothly, and the three uncles were not obliged to
exhaust themselves by hard work. There were never
any new houses built in that city, and if anything had
to be repaired, it was done with as little noise and dirt
as possible. The city and the whole kingdom were
quiet and serene, and the three uncles dozed away
most of the day in three great, comfortable thrones.
Everybody seemed satisfied with this state of things
except the Princess. She often thought to herself that
nothing would be more delightful than a little noise
and motion, and she wondered if the whole world were
as quiet as the city in which she lived. At last she
became unable to bear the dreadful stillness of the
place any longer, but she could think of nothing to do
but to go and try to find the Prince with whom she
had eaten the philopena. If she should win, he must
marry her, and then, perhaps, they could settle down
in some place where things would be bright and lively.
So, early one morning, she put on her white dress,
and mounting her prancing black horse, she rode away
from the city. Only one person saw her go, for nearly
all the people were asleep.
About this time, the Prince made up his mind that
he could no longer stand the din and confusion, the
everlasting upsetting and setting-up in his native
city. He would go away, and see if he could find the
Princess with whom he had eaten the philopena. If he
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THE PHILOPENA
should win, she would be obliged to marry him, and
then, perhaps, they could settle down in some place
where it was quiet and peaceful. So, on the same
morning in which the Princess rode away, he put on
a handsome suit of black clothes, and mounting a
gentle white horse, he rode out of the city. Only one
person saw him go, for, even at that early hour, the
people were so busy that little attention was paid to
his movements.
About half-way between these two cities, in a tall
tower which stood upon a hill, there lived an Inquisi-
tive Dwarf, whose whole object in life was to find out
what people were doing and why they did it. From
the top of this tower he generally managed to see all
that was going on in the surrounding country. And
in each of the two cities that have been mentioned he
had an agent, whose duty it was to send him word, by
means of carrier-pigeons, whenever a new thing hap-
pened. Before breakfast, on the morning when the
Prince and Princess rode away, a pigeon from the city
of the Prince came flying to the tower of the Inquisi-
tive Dwarf.
"Some new building started, I suppose," said the
Dwarf, as he took the little roll of paper from under
the pigeon's wing. "But no, it is very different ! ”
"The Prince has ridden away from the city alone,
and is travelling to the north.'”
But before he could begin to puzzle his brains about
the meaning of this departure, another pigeon came
flying in from the city of the Princess.
"Well!" cried the Dwarf, "this is amazing! It is a
long time since I have had a message from that city,
I
•
·
206


THE PHILOPENA
and my agent has been drawing his salary without
doing any work. What possibly can have happened
there?"
When he read that the Princess had ridden alone
from the city that morning, and was travelling to the
south, he was truly amazed.
"What on earth can it mean?" he exclaimed. "If
the city of the Prince were to the south of that of the
Princess, then I might understand it, for they would
be going to see each other, and that would be natural
enough. But as his city is to the north of her city,
they are travelling in opposite directions. Now what
is the meaning of this? I most certainly must find
out."
The Inquisitive Dwarf had three servants whom he
employed to attend to his most important business.
These were a Gryphoness, a Water Sprite, and an Ab-
solute Fool. This last one was very valuable, for there
were some things he would do which no one else would
think of attempting. The Dwarf called to him the
Gryphoness, the oldest and most discreet of the three,
and told her of the departure of the Princess.
"Hasten southward," he said, "as fast as you can,
and follow her, and do not return to me until you have
found out why she left her city, where she is going,
and what she expects to do when she gets there. Your
appearance may frighten her, and, therefore, you must
take with you the Absolute Fool, to whom she will
probably be willing to talk. But you must see that
everything is managed properly."
Having despatched these two, the Inquisitive Dwarf
then called the Water Sprite, who was singing to her-
self at the edge of a fountain, and telling her of the
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THE PHILOPENA
departure of the Prince, ordered her to follow him,
and not to return until she had found out why he left
his city, where he was going, and what he intended
to do when he got there.
"The road to the north," he said, "lies along the
river-bank. Therefore you can easily keep him com-
pany."
The Water Sprite bowed, and dancing over the dewy
grass to the river, threw herself into it. Sometimes
she swam beneath the clear water, sometimes she rose
partly in the air, where she seemed like a little cloud
of sparkling mist borne onward by the wind, and some-
times she floated upon the surface, her pale blue robes
undulating with the gentle waves, while her white
hands and feet shone in the sun like tiny crests of
foam. Thus, singing to herself, she went joyously and
rapidly on, aided by a full, strong wind from the south.
She did not forget to glance every now and then upon
the road which ran along the river-bank, and, in the
course of the morning, she perceived the Prince. He
was sitting in the shade of a tree near the water's
edge, while his white horse was grazing near by.
The Water Sprite came very gently out of the river,
and seating herself upon the edge of the grassy bank,
she spoke to him. The Prince looked up in astonish-
ment, but there was nothing in her appearance to
frighten him.
"I came," said the Water Sprite, "at the command
of my master, to ask you why you left your city,
where you are going, and what you intend to do when
you get there."
The Prince then told her why he had left his city, and
what he intended to do when he had found the Princess.
208


THE PHILOPENA
"But where I am going," he said, "I do not know
myself. I must travel and travel until I succeed in
the object of my search."
The Water Sprite reflected for a moment, and then
she said:
"If I were you, I would not travel to the north. It
is cold and dreary there, and your Princess would not
dwell in such a region. A little above us, on the other
side of this river, there is a stream which runs some-
times to the east and sometimes to the south, and
which leads to the Land of the Lovely Lakes. This
is the most beautiful country in the world, and you
will be much more likely to find your Princess in those
lovely regions than among the desolate mountains of
the north."
"I dare say you are right," said the Prince, "and I
will go there, if you will show me the way."
"The road runs along the bank of the river,” said
the Water Sprite, "and we shall soon reach the Land
of the Lovely Lakes."
The Prince then mounted his horse, forded the river,
and was soon riding along the bank of the stream,
while the Water Sprite gayly floated upon its dancing
ripples.
When the Gryphoness started southward in pursuit
of the Princess, she kept out of sight among the bushes
by the roadside, but sped swiftly along. The Abso-
lute Fool, however, mounted upon a fine horse, rode
boldly along upon the open road. He was a good-
looking youth, with rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and a
handsome figure. As he cantered gayly along, he felt
himself capable of every noble action which the human
mind has ever conceived. The Gryphoness kept near
209


THE PHILOPENA
him, and in the course of the morning they overtook
the Princess, who was allowing her horse to walk in
the shade by the roadside. The Absolute Fool dashed
up to her, and, taking off his hat, asked her why she
had left her city, where she was going, and what she
intended to do when she got there.
The Princess looked at him in surprise. "I left my
city because I wanted to," she said, "I am going
about my business, and when I get to the proper
place, I shall attend to it."
"Oh," said the Absolute Fool, "you refuse me your
confidence, do you? But allow me to remark that I
have a Gryphoness with me who is very frightful to
look at, and whom it was my intention to keep in the
bushes, but if you will not give fair answers to my
questions, she must come out and talk to you, and
that is all there is about it."
"If there is a Gryphoness in the bushes," said the
Princess, "let her come out. No matter how frightful
she is, I would rather she should come where I can
see her than to have her hiding near me."
The Gryphoness, who had heard these words, now
came out into the road. The horse of the Princess
reared in affright, but his young rider patted him on
the neck and quieted his fears.
"What do you and this young man want?" said the
Princess to the Gryphoness, "and why do you question
me?"
"It is not of our own will that we do it," said the
Gryphoness, very respectfully. "But our master, the
Inquisitive Dwarf, has sent us to obtain information
about the points on which the young man questioned
210


THE PHILOPENA
you, and until we have found out these things, it is
impossible for us to return."
"I am opposed to answering impertinent questions,"
replied the Princess, "but in order to rid myself of
you, I will tell you the reason of my journey." She
then briefly stated the facts of the case.
"Ah me!" said the Gryphoness. "I am very sorry,
but you cannot tell us where you are going, and we
cannot return until we know that. But you need not
desire to be rid of us, for it may be that we can assist
you in the object of your journey. This young man
is sometimes very useful, and I shall be glad to do any-
thing that I can to help you. If you should think that
I would injure you, or willingly annoy you by my
presence, it would grieve me to the heart." And as
she spoke, a tear bedimmed her eye.
The Princess was touched by the emotion of the
Gryphoness.
"You may accompany me," she said, "and I will
trust you both. You must know this country better
than I do. Have you any advice to give me in regard
to my journey?"
"One thing I would strongly advise," said the
Gryphoness, "and that is that you do not travel any
farther until we know in what direction it will be
best to go. There is an inn close by, kept by a worthy
woman. If you will stop there until to-morrow, this
young man and I will scour the country round about,
and try to find some news of your Prince. The young
man will return and report to you to-morrow morning;
and if you should need help or escort, he will aid and
obey you as your servant. As for me, unless we have
211


THE PHILOPENA
found the Prince, I shall continue searching for him.
There is a prince in the city to the north of my mas-
ter's tower, and it is not unlikely that it is he whom
you seek."
"You can find out if it is he," answered the Prin-
cess, "by asking about the philopena."
"That will I do," said the Gryphoness, "and I will
return hither as speedily as possible." Then, with
respectful salutations, the Gryphoness and the Abso-
lute Fool departed by different ways.
The Princess then repaired to the inn, where she
took lodgings.
The next morning, the Absolute Fool came back to
the inn, and, seeing the Princess, said: "I rode until
after nightfall, searching for the Prince, before it
occurred to me that, even if I should find him, I would
not know him in the dark. As soon as I thought of
that, I rode straight to the nearest house, and slept
until daybreak, when I remembered that I was to
report to you this morning. But as I have heard no
news of the Prince, and as this is a beautiful, clear
day, I think it would be extremely foolish to remain
idly here, where there is nothing of interest going on,
and when a single hour's delay may cause you to miss
the object of your search. The Prince may be in one
place this morning, and there is no knowing where he
will be in the afternoon. While the Gryphoness is
searching we should search also. We can return be-
fore sunset, and we will leave word here as to the
direction we have taken, so that when she returns
she can quickly overtake us. It is my opinion that
not a moment should be lost. I will be your guide.
I know this country well."
212


THE PHILOPENA
The Princess thought this sounded like good reason-
ing, and consented to set out. There were some beau-
tiful mountains to the southeast, and among these, the
Absolute Fool declared, a prince of good taste would
be very apt to dwell. They, therefore, took this
direction. But when they had travelled an hour or
more, the mountains began to look bare and bleak,
and the Absolute Fool declared that he did not be-
lieve any prince would live there. He therefore
advised that they turn into a road that led to the
northeast. It was a good road, and therefore he
thought it led to a good place, where a person of good
sense would be likely to reside. Along this road they
therefore travelled. They had ridden but a few miles
when they met three men, well armed and mounted.
These men drew up their horses, and respectfully sa-
luted the Princess.
"High-born lady," they said, "for by your aspect
we know you to be such, we would inform you that we
are the soldiers of the King, the outskirts of whose
dominions you have reached. It is our duty to ques-
tion all travellers, and, if their object in coming to our
country is a good one, to give them whatever assistance
and information they may require. Will you tell us
why you are come?"
"Impertinent vassals!" cried the Absolute Fool,
riding up in a great passion. "How dare you inter-
fere with a princess who has left her city because it
was so dull and stupid, and is endeavoring to find a
prince with whom she has eaten a philopena, in order
that she may marry him! Out of my way, or I will
draw my sword and cleave you to the earth, and thus
punish your unwarrantable curiosity!"
213


THE PHILOPENA
The soldiers could not repress a smile.
"In order to prevent mischief," they said to the Ab-
solute Fool, "we shall be obliged to take you into cus-
tody."
This they immediately did, and then requested the
Princess to accompany them to the palace of their
King, where she would receive hospitality and aid.
The King welcomed the Princess with great cor-
diality. He had no son, and he much wished he had
one, for in that case it might be his Prince for whom
the young lady was looking. But there was a prince,
he said, who lived in a city to the north, who was
probably the very man, and he would send and make
inquiries. In the meantime the Princess would be
entertained by himself and his Queen, and if her ser-
vant would make a suitable apology his violent lan-
guage would be pardoned. But the Absolute Fool
positively refused to do this.
"I never apologize," he cried. "No man of spirit
would do such a thing. What I say I stand by."
"Very well," said the King, "you shall fight a wild
beast." Then he gave orders that the affair should
be arranged for the following day.
In a short time, however, some of his officers came
to him and told him that there were no wild beasts,
those on hand having been kept so long that they had
become tame.
"To be sure, there's the old lion Sardon," they said,
"but he is so dreadfully cross, and has had so much
experience in these fights, that for a long time it has
not been considered fair to allow any one to enter the
ring with him.”
"It is a pity," said the King, "to make the young
214


THE PHILOPENA
man fight a tame beast, but, under the circumstances,
the best thing to do will be to represent the case to
him just as it is. Tell him we are sorry we have not
an ordinary wild beast, but that he can take his choice
between a tame one and the lion Sardon, whose dispo-
sition and experience you will explain to him."
When the matter was stated to the Absolute Fool,
he refused with great scorn to fight a tame beast.
"I will not be degraded in the eyes of the public,"
he said. "I will take the old lion."
The next day the court and the public assembled
to see the fight, but the Queen and our Princess took
a ride into the country, not wishing to witness a com-
bat of this kind, especially one which was so unequal.
The King ordered that every advantage should be
given to the young man, in order that he might have
every possible chance of success in fighting an animal
which had been a victor on so many similar occasions.
A large iron cage, furnished with a turnstile, into
which the Absolute Fool could retire for rest and re-
freshment, but where the lion could not follow him,
was placed in the middle of the arena, and the youth
was supplied with all the weapons he desired. When
everything was ready, the Absolute Fool took his
stand in the centre of the arena, and the door of the
lion's den was opened. The great beast came out; he
looked about for an instant, and then, with majestic
step, advanced toward the young man. When he was
within a few paces of him, he crouched for a spring.
The Absolute Fool had never seen so magnificent a
creature, and he could not restrain his admiration.
With folded arms and sparkling eyes, he gazed with
delight upon the lion's massive head, his long and
215


THE PHILOPENA
flowing mane, his magnificent muscles, and his power-
ful feet and legs. There was an air of grandeur and
strength about him which completely enraptured the
youth. Approaching the lion, he knelt before him,
and gazed with wondering ecstasy into his great, glow-
ing eyes. "What glorious orbs!" he inwardly ex-
claimed. "What unfathomable expression! What
possibilities! What reminiscences! Everywhere,
what majesty of curve!"
The lion was a good deal astonished at the conduct
of the young man, and he soon began to suppose that
this was not the person he was to fight, but probably
a keeper, who was examining into his condition.
After submitting to this scrutiny a few minutes, he
gave a mighty yawn, which startled the spectators,
but which delighted the Absolute Fool, for never be-
fore had he beheld such a depth of potentiality. He
knelt in silent delight at this exhibition of the beauty
of strength.
Old Sardon soon became tired of all this, however,
and he turned and walked back to his den. "When
their man is ready," he thought to himself, "I will
come out and fight him."
One tremendous shout now arose from the multitude.
"The youth has conquered!" they cried. "He has
actually frightened the lion back into his den!" Rush-
ing into the arena, they raised the Absolute Fool upon
their shoulders and carried him in triumph to the
open square in front of the palace, that he might be
rewarded for his bravery. Here the King, followed
by his court, quickly appeared, for he was as much
delighted as anyone at the victory of the young
man.
216


THE PHILOPENA
"Noble youth," he exclaimed, "you are the bravest
of the brave. You are the only man I know who is
worthy of our royal daughter, and you shall marry her
forthwith. Long since I vowed that only with the
bravest should she wed."
At this moment the Queen and the Princess, re-
turning from their ride, heard with joy the result of
the combat, and riding up to the victor, the Queen
declared that she would gladly join with her royal
husband in giving their daughter to so brave a man.
The Absolute Fool stood for a moment in silent
thought; then, addressing the King, he said:
"Was your Majesty's father a king?"
"He was," was the answer.
"Was his father of royal blood?"
"No, he was not," replied the King. "My grand-
father was a man of the people; but his preeminent
virtue, his great ability as a statesman, and the dignity
and nobility of his character made him the unanimous
choice of the nation as its sovereign."
"I am sorry to hear that," said the Absolute
Fool, "for it makes it necessary for me to decline
the kind offer of your daughter in marriage. If I
marry a princess at all, she must be one who can
trace back her lineage through a long line of royal
ancestors." As he spoke his breast swelled with
manly pride.
For a moment the King was dumb with rage. Then,
loudly he shouted: "Ho, guards! Annihilate him!
Avenge this insult!"
At these words the sword of every bystander
leaped from its scabbard. But before any one could
take a step forward, the Princess seized the Absolute
217


THE PHILOPENA
Fool by his long and flowing locks, and put spurs to
her horse. The young man yelled with pain, and
shouted to her to let go. But she held firmly to his
hair, and as he was extraordinarily active and fleet of
foot, he kept pace with the galloping horse. A great
crowd of people started in pursuit, but as none of them
were mounted, they were soon left behind.
"Let go my hair! Let go my hair!" shouted the
Absolute Fool, as he bounded along. "You don't
know how it hurts. Let go! Let go!"
But the Princess never relinquished her hold until
they were out of the King's domain.
"A little more," cried the indignant youth, when
she let him go, "and you would have pulled out a
handful of my hair."
"A little less," said the Princess, contemptuously,
"and you would have been cut to pieces, for you have
not sense enough to take care of yourself. I am sorry
I listened to you, and left the inn to which the
Gryphoness took me. It would have been far better
to wait there for her, as she told me to do.”
"Yes," said the Absolute Fool, "it would have been
much better."
"Now," said the Princess, "we will go back there,
and see if she has returned."
"If we can find it," said the other, "which I very
much doubt."
There were several roads at this point, and, of course,
they took the wrong one. As they went on, the Abso-
lute Fool complained bitterly that he had left his horse
behind him, and was obliged to walk. Sometimes he
stopped, and said he would go back after it, but this
the Princess sternly forbade.
218


THE PHILOPENA
When the Gryphoness reached the city of the Prince,
it was night, but she was not sorry for this. She did
not like to show herself much in the daytime, because
so many people were frightened by her. After a good
deal of trouble, she discovered that the Prince had
certainly left the city, although his guardians did not
seem to be aware of it. They were so busy with a new
palace, in part of which they were living, that they
could not be expected to keep a constant eye upon
him. In the morning she met an old man who knew
her and was not afraid of her, and who told her that
the day before, when he was up the river, he had
seen the Prince on his white horse, riding on the
bank of the stream, and that near him, in the water,
was something which looked now like a woman,
and again like a puff of mist. The Gryphoness
reflected.
"If this Prince has gone off in that way," she said to
herself, "I believe that he is the very one whom the
Princess is looking for, and that he has set out in
search of her; and that creature in the water must
be our Water Sprite, whom our master has probably
sent out to discover where the Prince is going. If he
had told me about this, it would have saved much
trouble. From the direction in which they were going,
I feel sure that the Water Sprite was taking the Prince
to the Land of the Lovely Lakes. She never fails to
go there, if she can possibly get an excuse. I will
follow them. I suppose the Princess will be tired,
waiting at the inn, but I must know where the Prince
is, and whether or not he is really her Prince, before
I go back to her."
The Gryphoness soon arrived at the Land of the
219


THE PHILOPENA
Lovely Lakes, but although she wandered all that day
and the next night, she saw nothing of those for whom
she was looking.
The Princess and the Absolute Fool journeyed on
until near the close of the afternoon, when the sky
began to be overcast, and it looked like rain. They
were then not far from a large piece of water, and at
a little distance they saw a ship moored near the
shore.
"I shall seek shelter on board that ship," said the
Princess.
"It is going to storm," remarked the Absolute Fool.
"I should prefer to be on dry land."
"As the land is not likely to be very dry when it
rains," said the Princess, "I prefer a shelter, even if it
is upon wet water."
"Women will always have their own way," mut-
tered the Absolute Fool, folding his arms upon his
chest and knitting his brows.
The ship belonged to a crew of Amazon sailors, who
gave the Princess a hearty welcome.
"You may go on board if you choose," said the Ab-
solute Fool to the Princess, "but I shall not risk my
life in a ship manned by women."
"It is well that you are of that opinion," said the
captain of the Amazons, who had overheard this
remark, "for you would not be allowed to come on
board, if you wished to. But we will give you a tent
to protect you and the horse, in case it should rain,
and will send you something to eat."
While the Princess was taking tea with the Amazon
captain, she told her about the Prince, and how she
was trying to find him.
220


THE PHILOPENA
"Good!" cried the captain. "I will join in the
search and take you in my ship. Some of my crew
told me that yesterday they saw a young man, who
looked like a prince, riding along the shore of a lake
which adjoins the one we are on. In the morning we
will sail after him. We shall keep near the shore, and
your servant can mount your horse and ride along the
edge of the lake. From what I know of the speed of
this vessel, I think he can easily keep up with us."
Early in the morning, the Amazon captain called
her crew together. "Hurrah, my brave girls!" she
said. "We have an object. I never sail without an
object, and it delights me to get one. The purpose of
our present cruise is to find the Prince of whom this
Princess is in search, and we must spare no pains to
bring him to her, dead or alive."
Luckily for her peace of mind, the Princess did not
hear this speech. The day was a fine one, and before
long the sun became very hot. The ship was sailing
quite near the land, when the Absolute Fool rode down
to the water's edge, and called out that he had some-
thing very important to communicate to the Princess.
As he was not allowed to come on board, she was
obliged to go on shore, to which she was rowed in a
small boat.
"I have been thinking," said the Absolute Fool,
"that it is perfectly ridiculous, and very uncomfort-
ble, to continue this search any longer. I would go
back, but my master would not suffer me to return
without knowing where you are going. I have, there-
fore, a plan to propose. Give up your useless search
for this Prince, who is probably not nearly so hand-
some and intellectual as I am, and marry me. We
221


THE PHILOPENA
will then return, and I will assume the reins of gov-
ernment in your domain."
"Follow the vessel," said the Princess, "as you have
been doing, for I wish some one to take care of my
horse." Then, without another word, she returned to
the ship.
"I should like to sail as far as possible from shore
during the rest of the trip," said she to the captain.
"Put the helm bias!" shouted the Amazon captain
to the steerswoman, "and keep him well out from
land."
When they had sailed through a small stream into
the lake adjoining, the outlook, who was swinging in
a hammock hung between the tops of the two masts,
sang out, "Prince ahead!" Instantly all was activity
on board the vessel. Story-books were tucked under
coils of rope, hemstitching and embroidery were laid
aside, and every woman was at her post.
"The Princess is taking a nap," said the captain,
"and we will not awaken her. It will be so nice to
surprise her by bringing the Prince to her. We will
run our vessel ashore, and then steal quietly upon him.
But do not let him get away. Cut him down if he
resists!"
The Prince, who was plainly visible only a short
distance ahead, was so pleasantly employed that he
had not noticed the approach of the ship. He was
sitting upon a low, moss-covered rock, close to the
water's edge, and with a small hand-net, which he had
found on the shore, he was scooping from the lake the
most beautiful fishes, holding them up in the sunlight
to admire their brilliant colors and graceful forms, and
then returning them uninjured to the water. The
222


THE PHILOPENA
reits f
as yo
te care
e retame
le from
the cap
azon d
1 stream
Swing
Le two
was act
Dekeda
Ty wer
the cas
De so t
r. Wer
горс
dovi:
nly a st
ed thr
Be
Lose to
nich be
he lake
he sul
forms,
ater. T
Water Sprite was swimming near him, telling the
fish to come up and be caught, for the gentle Prince
would not hurt them. It was very delightful and
rare sport, and it is not surprising that it entirely
engrossed the attention of the Prince. The Amazons
silently landed, and softly stole along the shore, a little
back from the water. Then, at their captain's com-
mand, they rushed upon the Prince.
It was just about this time that the Gryphoness,
who had been searching for the Prince, caught her first
sight of him. Perceiving that he was about to be at-
tacked, she rushed to his aid. The Amazon sailors
reached him before she did, and seizing upon him, they
began to pull him away. The Prince resisted stoutly,
but seeing that his assailants were women, he would
not draw his sword. The Amazon captain and mate,
who were armed with broad knives, now raised their
weapons, and called upon the Prince to surrender or
die. But at this moment the Gryphoness reached the
spot, and catching the captain and mate each by an
arm, she dragged them back from the Prince. The
other Amazons, however, continued the combat, and
the Prince defended himself by pushing them into the
shallow water, where the Water Sprite nearly stifled
them by throwing over them showers of spray. And
now came riding up the Absolute Fool. Seeing a youth
engaged in combat with the Amazon sailors, his blood
boiled with indignation.
"A man fighting women!" he exclaimed. "What
a coward! My arm shall ever assist the weaker sex."
Jumping from the horse, he drew his sword, and
rushed upon the Prince. The Gryphoness saw the
danger of the latter, and she would have gone to his
223


THE PHILOPENA
assistance, but she was afraid to loosen her hold of the
Amazon captain and mate.
Spreading her wings, she flew to the top of a tree,
where she deposited the two warlike women upon a
lofty branch, from which she knew it would take them
a long time to get down to the ground. When she
descended she found that the Absolute Fool had
reached the Prince. The latter, being a brave fellow,
although of so gentle a disposition, had been glad to
find a man among his assailants, and had drawn his
sword to defend himself. The two had just begun to
fight when the Gryphoness seized the Absolute Fool
by the waist and hurled him backward into some
bushes.
"You must not fight him!" she cried to the Prince.
"He is beneath your rank! And as you will not draw
your sword against these Amazons, you must fly from
them. If you run fast they cannot overtake you."
The Prince followed her advice, and, sheathing his
sword, he rapidly ran along the bank, followed by
some of the Amazons who had succeeded in getting
the water out of their eyes and mouths.
"Run from women!" contemptuously remarked the
Absolute Fool. "If you had not interfered with me,"
he said to the Gryphoness, "I should soon have put an
end to such a coward."
The Prince had nearly reached the place opposite
to which the ship was moored, when the Princess, who
had been awakened by the noise of the combat, ap-
peared upon the deck of the vessel. The moment she
saw the Prince, she felt convinced that he was cer-
tainly the one for whom she was looking. Fearing
that the pursuing Amazons might kill him, she sprang
224


THE PHILOPENA
from the vessel to his assistance. But her foot caught
in a rope, and instead of reaching the shore, she fell
into the water, which was here quite deep, and imme-
diately sank out of sight. The Prince, who had no-
ticed her just as she sprang, and who felt equally
convinced that she was the one for whom he was
searching, stopped his flight and rushed to the edge
of the bank. Just as the Princess rose to the surface,
he reached out his hand to her, and she took it.
"Philopena!" cried the Prince.
"You have won," said the Princess, gayly shaking
the water from her curls, as he drew her ashore.
At the request of the Princess, the pursuing Ama-
zons forbore to assail the Prince, and when the captain
and the mate had descended from the tree, everything
was explained.
Within an hour, the Prince and Princess, after tak-
ing kind leave of the Gryphoness and Water Sprite,
and of the Amazon sailors, who cheered them loudly,
rode away to the city of the Princess, while the three
servants of the Inquisitive Dwarf returned to their
master to report what had happened.
The Absolute Fool was in a very bad humor, for he
was obliged to go back on foot, having left his horse
in the kingdom where he had so narrowly escaped
being killed. And, besides this, he had had his hair
pulled, and had not been treated with proper respect
by either the Princess or the Gryphoness. He felt
himself deeply injured. When he reached home, he
determined that he would not remain in a position
where his great abilities were so little appreciated.
"I will do something," he said, "which shall prove to
the world that I deserve to stand among the truly
225


THE PHILOPENA
great. I will reform my fellow-beings, and I will
begin by reforming the Inquisitive Dwarf." There-
upon he went to his master and said:
"Sir, it is foolish and absurd for you to be meddling
thus with the affairs of your neighbors. Give up your
inquisitive habits, and learn some useful business.
While you are doing this, I will consent to manage
your affairs."
The Inquisitive Dwarf turned to him and said: "I
have a great desire to know the exact appearance of
the North Pole. Go and discover it for me."
The Absolute Fool departed on this mission, and
has not yet returned.
When the Princess, with her Prince, reached her
city, her uncles were very much amazed, for they had
not known she had gone away. "If you are going to
get married," they said, "we are very glad, for then
you will not need our care, and we shall be free
from the great responsibility which is bearing us
down."
In a short time the wedding took place, and then
the question arose in which city should the young
couple dwell. The Princess decided it.
"In the winter," she said to the Prince, "we will
live in your city, where all is life and activity, and
where the houses are so well built, with all the latest
improvements. In the summer we will come to my
city, where everything is old, and shady, and serene."
This they did, and were very happy.
The Gryphoness would have been glad to go and
live with the Princess, for she had taken a great fancy
to her; but she did not think it worth her while to
ask permission to do this.
226


THE PHILOPENA
"My impulses, I know, are good," she said, "but
my appearance is against me."
As for the Water Sprite, she was in a truly discon-
solate mood, because she had left so soon the Land of
the Lovely Lakes, where she had been so happy. The
more she thought about it, the more she grieved, and
one morning, unable to bear her sorrow longer, she
sprang into the great jet of the fountain. High into
the bright air the fountain threw her, scattering her
into a thousand drops of glittering water, but not one
drop fell back into the basin. The great, warm sun
drew them up, and, in a little white cloud, they
floated away across the bright blue sky.
227


1


AMOS KILBRIGHT:
HIS ADSCITITIOUS EXPERIENCES
९


|


AMOS KILBRIGHT:
HIS ADSCITITIOUS EXPERIENCES
[This story is told by Mr. Richard Colesworthy, an
attorney-at-law in a large town in one of our Eastern
States. The fact that Mr. Colesworthy is a practical
man, and but little given, outside of his profession, to
speculative theorizing, adds a weight to his statements
which they might not otherwise possess.]
N the practice of my profession I am in the habit
sorts and conditions of men,
women, and even children. But I do not know that I
ever encountered any one who excited in me a greater
interest than the man about whom I am going to tell
you.
I was busily engaged one morning in my office,
which is on the ground floor of my dwelling and opens
upon the street, when, after a preliminary knock,
young man entered and asked leave to speak with
me. He was tall and well made, plainly but decently
dressed, and with a fresh, healthy color on his smoothly
shaven face. There was something in his air, a sort
of respectful awkwardness, which was not without a
suggestion of good breeding, and in his countenance
there was an annoyed or troubled expression which
did not sit well upon it. I asked him to take a chair,
231


AMOS KILBRIGHT
and as he did so the thought came to me that I should
like to be of service to him. Of course I desire to aid
and benefit all my clients, but there are some persons
whose appearance excites in one an instinctive sym-
pathy, and toward whom there arise at first sight sen-
timents of kindliness. The man had said almost
nothing. It was simply his manner which had im-
pressed me. I mention these points because gener-
ally I do not take an interest in persons until I know
a good deal about them.
"What can I do for you?" I asked.
The man did not immediately answer, but began
searching for something in one of the pockets of his
coat. The little awkwardness which I had first no-
ticed now became more apparent. He appeared to
be looking for his pockets rather than for what might
be in one of them. He was conscious of his ungainli-
ness, and reddened a little as he fumbled on the inside
and outside of his coat.
"I pray you pardon me," he said, "but I will bring
before you instantly the matter of my business."
So saying, he got his hand into a breast-pocket
and drew out a little packet. There was a certain
intonation of his voice which at first made me think
that he was not an American, but in that intonation
there was really nothing foreign. He was certainly a
stranger,—he might be from the backwoods,—and both
his manner and speech appeared odd to me. But soon
I had no doubt about his being my countryman. In
fact, there was something in his general appearance
which seemed to me to be distinctively American.
"I came to you, sir," he said, "to ask if you would
have the goodness to purchase one or more of these
232


AMOS KILBRIGHT
tickets." Then he held out to me a card entitling one
person to admission to a séance to be given by a party
of spiritualists in one of the public buildings of the
town.
A feeling of anger arose within me. I was cha-
grined to think that I had begun to interest myself in
a person who merely came to interrupt me in my busi-
ness by trying to sell me tickets to a spiritualistic ex-
hibition. My instant impulse was to turn from the
man and let him see that I was offended by his intru-
sion, but my reason told me that he had done nothing
that called for resentment. If I had expected some-
thing more important from him, that was my affair.
He had not pretended to have any other business
than that which brought him.
Besides, he offered me something which in fact
I wanted. I am a member of a society for psychical
research, which, about a year before, had been or-
ganized in our town. It is composed almost exclusively
of persons who are desirous of honestly investigating
the facts, as well as theories, connected with the spirit-
ual phenomena, not only of our own day, but of all
ages. We had heard of the spiritualistic exhibitions
which were to be given in our town, and I, with a
number of my fellow-members, had determined to
attend them. If there was anything real or tangible
in the performances of these people, we wanted to
know it. Considering all this, it would be foolish for
me to be angry with a man who had brought me the
very tickets I intended to buy, and, instead of turning
away from him, I took out my pocket-book.
"I will take one ticket for each of the three séances,"
I said, and I placed the money on the table.
233


AMOS KILBRIGHT
I would have been glad to buy two sets of tickets,
one for my wife, but I knew this would be useless.
She did not belong to our society, and took no inter-
est in its investigations.
"Those things are all tricks and nonsense,” she had
said. "I don't want to know anything about them.
And if they were true, I most certainly would not want
to know anything about them."
So I contented myself with the tickets for my own
use, and as the man slowly selected them from his
little package, I asked him if he had sold many of
them.
"These you now buy are the first of which I have
made disposal," he answered. "For two days I have
endeavored to sell them, but to no purpose. There
are many people to whom I cannot bring myself to
speak upon the matter, and those I have asked care
not for these things. I would not have come to you,
but having twice passed your open window, I liked
your face and took courage."
I smiled. So this man had been studying me before
I began to study him! This discovery revived in
me the desire that he had come on some more interest-
ing business than that of selling tickets, a thing he did
so badly as to make me wonder why he had under-
taken it.
"I imagine," said I, "that this sort of business is out
of your line."
He looked at me a moment, and then with earnest-
ness exclaimed: "Entirely! utterly! absolutely! I
am altogether unfitted for this calling, and it is an
injustice to those who send me out for me to longer
continue in it. Some other person might sell their
234


AMOS KILBRIGHT
tickets; I cannot. And yet," he said, with a sigh,
"what is there that I
may do?"
The idea that this strong, well-grown man should
have any difficulty in finding something to do sur-
prised me. If he chose to go out and labor with his
hands, and surely no man who was willing to wander
about selling tickets should object to that,-there would
be no difficulty in his obtaining a livelihood in our town.
"If you want regular employment," I said, "I think
you can easily find it."
“I want it,” he answered, his face clouded by a
troubled expression, "but I cannot take it."
"Cannot take it!" I exclaimed.
"No," he said. "I am not my own master.
much a slave as any negro hereabouts!"
I was rather surprised at this meaningless allusion,
but contented myself with asking him what he meant
by not being his own master.
He looked on the floor, and then he looked at me
with a steady, earnest gaze. "I should like well to
tell you my story," he said. "I have been ordered
not to tell it, but I have resolved that when I should
meet a man to whom I should be moved to speak I
would speak."
I am as
Now I felt a very natural emotion of pride. My
perception of objects of interest was a quick and a
correct one. "Speak on," I said; "I shall be very
glad to hear what you have to say."
He looked toward the open door. I arose and closed
it. When I had resumed my seat he drew his chair
closer to me, leaned toward me, and said:
"In the first place, you should know that I am a
materialized spirit."
235


AMOS KILBRIGHT
I sat up, hard pressed against the back of my chair.
"Nay, start not," he said. "I am now as truly flesh
and blood as you are, but a short three weeks ago
I
was a spirit in the realms of endless space. I know,"
he continued, "that my history is a sore thing to in-
flict upon any man, and there are few to whom I
would have broached it, but I will make it brief.
Three weeks ago these spiritualists held privately in
this town what they call a séance, and at that time I
was impelled, by a power I understood not, to appear
among them. After I had come it was supposed that
a mistake had been made, and that I was not the
spirit wanted. In the temporary confusion occasioned
by this supposition, and while the attention of the ex-
hibitors was otherwise occupied, I was left exposed to
the influence of the materializing agencies for a much
longer time than had been intended-so long, indeed,
that instead of remaining in the misty, indistinct form
in which spirits are presented by these men to their
patrons, I became as thoroughly embodied, as full of
physical life and energy, and as complete a mortal man
as I was when I disappeared from this earth, one hun-
dred and two years ago."
"One hundred and two years!" I mechanically
ejaculated. There was upon me the impulse to get
up and go where I could breathe the outer air, to find
my wife and talk to her about marketing or some
household affair, to get away from this being-human
or whatever he was; but this was impossible. That
interest which dawned upon me when I first perceived
my visitor now held me as if it had been a spell.
"Yes," he said, "I deceased in seventeen hundred
and eighty-five, being then in my thirtieth year. I
236
1
·


AMOS KILBRIGHT
was a citizen of Bixbury, on the Massachusetts coast,
but I am not unconnected with this place. Old Mr.
Scott, of your town, is my grandson."
I am obliged to chronicle the fact that my present
part in this conversation consisted entirely of ejacu-
lations. "Old Mr. Scott your grandson!" I said.
"Yes," he replied. "My daughter, who was but two
years old when I left her, married Lemuel Scott of
Bixbury, who moved to this town soon after old Mr.
Scott was born. It was, indeed, on account of this
good old man that I became materialized. He was
present at the private séance of which I have spoken,
and being asked if he would like to see a person from
the other world, he replied that he should be pleased
to behold his grandfather. When the necessary influ-
ences were set to work I appeared. The spiritualists,
who, without much thought, had conceived the idea
that the grandfather of old Mr. Scott ought, in the
ordinary nature of things, to be a very venerable per-
sonage, were disappointed when they saw me, and
concluded I was one who, by some mistake, had been
wrongfully summoned. They therefore set me aside,
as it were, and occupied themselves with other mat-
ters. Old Mr. Scott went away unsatisfied, and
strengthened in his disbelief in the powers of the
spiritualists, while I, as I have before said, was left
unnoticed under the power of the materializing force,
until I was made corporeal, as I am now.
"When the spiritualists discovered what had hap-
pened they were much disturbed, and set about to de-
materialize me; for it is not their purpose or desire to
cause departed spirits to again become inhabitants of
this world. But all their efforts were of no avail. I
237


AMOS KILBRIGHT
remained as much a man as any one of themselves.
They found me in full health and vigor, for I had
never had a day's sickness in my life, having come to
my death by drowning while foolishly swimming too
far from land in a strong ebb-tide, and my body, being
carried out to sea, was never recovered. Being thus
put to their wit's end, they determined to keep the
matter privy, and to make the best of it, and the first
necessity was to provide me with clothing, for on my
second entrance into this world I was as totally with-
out apparel as when I first came into it. They gave
me these garments of the ordinary fashion of the day,
but to which I find myself much unaccustomed, and
enjoined upon me to keep silent regarding what
had happened, fearing, as I was made aware by some
unguarded words, that their efforts to dematerialize
me might bring them into trouble."
My professional instincts now came to the front.
"That would be murder," I said, "and nothing less."
"So I myself told them," he continued, "for I had
come to the determination that I would choose to
finish out the life I had broken off so suddenly. But
they paid little heed to my words and continued their
experiments. But, as I have told you, their efforts
were without avail, and they have ceased to make
further trial of dematerialization. As, of course, it
would be impossible to keep a full-grown man for any
considerable length of time secluded and unseen, they
judged it wise to permit me to appear as an ordinary
human being. Having no other use to which they
could put me, they set me to selling tickets for them,
and in this business I have fared so badly that I shall
restore to them these that are left, and counsel them
238


AMOS KILBRIGHT
to seek another agent, I being of detriment to them
rather than profit. What may then happen I do not
know, for, as I told you, I am not my own master."
"I do not understand you," I said. "If you have
been, in this unparalleled manner, restored to your
physical existence, surely you are free to do as you
please. What these spiritualists have done for you
was done by accident. They intended you no benefit,
and they have no claim upon you."
"That is true," he said, with a sigh, "but they have
a hold upon me. It was but yesterday that they in-
formed me that although, so far, they had failed to
restore me to what they call my normal spiritual
existence, they had every reason to believe that they
soon would be able to do so. A psychic scientist of
Germany has discovered a process of dematerialization,
and they have sent to him for his formula. This, in a
short time, they expect to receive, and they assure me
that they will not hesitate to put it in force if I should
cause them trouble. Now, sir," he continued, and as
he spoke there was a moisture about his eyes, "I am
very fond of life. I have been restored to that mor-
tality from which I was suddenly snatched by the
cruel sea, and I do not wish to lose it again until I
have lived out my natural term of years. My family
is one of long life, and I feel that I have a right to
fifty more years of existence, and this strong desire for
the natural remainder of my life is that which gives
these men their power over me. I was never a cow-
ard, but I cannot but fear those who may at any mo-
ment cause this form, these limbs, my physical state
and life, to vanish like a candle-flame blown out."
My sympathies were now strongly aroused in be-
239


AMOS KILBRIGHT
half of the subject of these most extraordinary
conditions.
"That which you fear must not be allowed," I said.
"No man has the right to take away the life of an-
other, no matter what plan or method he may use. I
will see the spiritualists, and make it plain to them
that what they threaten they cannot be allowed to do."
The man arose. "Sir," he said, "I feel that I have
truly found a friend. Whatever may happen to me,
I shall never forget your kindness to a very stranger."
He held out his hand, and I stood up by him and took
it. It was as much a flesh-and-blood hand as my own.
"What is your name?" I asked. "You have not
yet told me that."
"I am Amos Kilbright of Bixbury," he answered.
"You have not revisited your native place?” I said.
"No," he replied. "I much desire to do so, but I
have no money for a journey, even on foot, and I
doubt me much if those men would suffer me to go to
Bixbury."
"And have you spoken to your grandson, old Mr.
Scott?" I said. "It is but right that you should make
yourself known to him."
"So have I thought," he answered, "and I have felt
an earnest drawing toward my daughter's child. I
have seen him thrice, but have not had the heart to
speak to him and declare myself the progenitor of that
mother whose memory I know he cherishes."
"You shall make yourself known to him,” I said.
"I will prepare the way."
He shook me again by the hand, and took his leave
without a word. He was deeply affected.
I reseated myself by my table, one thought after
240


AMOS KILBRIGHT
It
wedis
me life :
may st
lain to
cwed
that Is
Stra
msad
as m
bar
Swee
Sobr
Dot,
me tog
clis
hare
heart!
roft
I
sle
another rushing through my mind. Had ever man
heard a story such as this? What were all the ex-
periences of the members of the Society for Psychical
Research, their stories of apparitions, their instances
of occult influences, their best-authenticated incidents
of supernaturalism, compared to this experience of
mine! Should I hasten and tell it all to my wife? I
hesitated. If what I had heard should not be true-
and this my first doubt or suspicion impressed upon
me how impossible to me had been doubt or suspicion
during the presence of my visitor-it would be wrong
to uselessly excite her mind. On the other hand, if I
had heard nothing but the truth, what would happen
should she sympathize as deeply with Amos Kilbright
as I did, and then should that worthy man suddenly
become dematerialized, perhaps before her very eyes?
No, I would not tell her—at least, not yet. But I
must see the spiritualists. And that afternoon I went
to them.
The leader and principal worker of the men who
were about to give a series of spiritual manifestations
in our town was Mr. Corbridge, a man of middle age
with a large head and earnest visage. When I spoke
to him of Amos Kilbright he was very much annoyed.
"So he has been talking to you," he said, "and after
all the warnings I gave him! Well, he does that sort
of thing at his own risk!"
"We all do things at our own risk," I said, "and he
has as much right to choose his line of conduct as any-
body else."
"No, he hasn't," said Mr. Corbridge. "He belongs to
us, and it is for us to choose his line of conduct for
him."
E
241


AMOS KILBRIGHT
"That is nonsense," said I. "You have no more
right over him than I have."
"Now, then," said Mr. Corbridge, his eyes beginning
to sparkle, "I may as well talk plainly to you. My
associates and myself have considered this matter very
carefully. At first, we thought that if this fellow
should tell his story we would simply pooh-pooh the
whole of it, and let people think he was a little touched
in his mind, which would be so natural a conclusion
that everybody might be expected to come to it. But
as we have determined to dematerialize him, his dis-
appearance would bring suspicion upon us, and we
might get into trouble if he should be considered a
mere commonplace person. So we decided to speak
out plainly, say what we had done and what we were
going to do, and thus put ourselves at the head of the
spirit operators of the world. But we are not yet
ready to do anything or to make our announcements,
and if he had held his tongue we might have given
him a pretty long string."
"And do you mean," I said, "that you and your as-
sociates positively intend to dematerialize Mr. Kil-
bright?"
"Certainly we do," he answered.
"Then I declare such an act would be inhuman-
a horrible crime."
"No," said Mr. Corbridge, "it would be neither. In
the first place, he isn't human. It is by accident that
he is what he is. But it was our affair entirely, and
it was a most wonderfully fortunate thing for us that
it happened. At first it frightened us, but we have
become used to it now, and we see the great oppor-
242


AMOS KILBRIGHT
tunities that this entirely unparalleled case will give
us. As he is, he is of no earthly good to anybody.
You can't take a man out of the last century and
expect him to get on in any sort of business at the
present day. He is too old-fashioned. He doesn't
know how we do things in the year eighteen hundred
and eighty-seven. We put this subject to work selling
tickets just to keep him occupied. But he can't even
do that. But as a spirit who can be materialized or
dematerialized whenever we please, he will be of the
greatest value to us. When a spirit has been brought
out as strongly as he has been, it will be the easiest thing
in the world to do it again. Every time you bring one
out, the less trouble it is to make it appear the next
time you want it. And in this case the conditions are
so favorable that it will be absolute business suicide
in us if we allow ourselves to lose the chance of work-
ing it.
So you see, sir, that we have marked out our
course, and I assure you that we intend to stick to it."
"And I assure you," said I, rising to go, "that I
shall make it my business to interfere with your
wicked machinations."
Mr. Corbridge laughed. "You'll find," he said,
"that we have turned this thing over pretty care-
fully, and we are ready for whatever the courts may
do. If we are charged with making away with any-
body, we can make him appear, alive and well,
before judge and jury. Then what will there be
to say against us? Besides, we are quite sure that
no laws can be found against bringing beings from the
other world, or sending them back into it, provided it
can be proved by the subject's admission, or in any
243


AMOS KILBRIGHT
other manner, that he really died once in a natural
way. You cannot be tried for causing a man's death
a second time.”
I was not prepared to make any answer on this
point, but I went away with a firm resolution to pro-
tect Amos Kilbright in the full enjoyment of his re-
assumed physical existence, if the power of law, or
any other power, could do it.
The next morning Mr. Corbridge called on me at
my office. "I shall be very sorry," he said, "if any of
my remarks of yesterday should cause unpleasant
feelings between us. We are desirous of being on
good terms with everybody, especially with members
of the Society for Psychical Research. You ought to
work with us."
"We do not work with you," I replied, "nor ever
shall. Our object is to search earnestly and honestly
into the subject of spiritual manifestation, and not to
make money out of unfortunate subjects of experi-
ment."
"You misunderstand us," said he, "but I am not
going to argue the question. I wish to be on good
terms with you and to act fairly and plainly all around.
We find that we cannot make use of the demateriali-
zation process as soon as we expected, for the German
scientist who controls it has declined to send us his
formula, but has consented to come over and work it
on this subject himself. His engagements will not
allow him to visit this country immediately, but he is
very enthusiastic about it, and he is bound to come
before long. Now, as you seem to be interested in
this ex-Kilbright, we will make you an offer. We
will give him into your charge until we want him.
244


AMOS KILBRIGHT
He is of no use to us, as he can't tell us anything about
spiritual matters, his present memory beginning just
where it broke off when he sank in the ocean in
seventeen hundred and eighty-five; but he might be
very useful to a man who was inclined to study up old-
time manners and customs. So, if it suits you, we will
make him over to you, agreeing to give you three days'
notice before we take any measures to dematerialize
him. We are not afraid of your getting away with
him, for our power over him will be all the same, no
matter where he is."
"I will have no man made over to me,” said I, “and
Mr. Kilbright, being his own master, can do with him-
self what he pleases. But, as I said before, I shall
protect him, and do everything in my power to thwart
your schemes against him. And you must remember
he will have other friends besides me. He has rela-
tives in this town."
"None but old Mr. Scott, at least so far as I know,"
said Corbridge, "and he need not expect any help from
him, for that ancient personage is a most arrant dis-
believer in spiritualism."
And with this remark he took his leave.
That very afternoon came to me Amos Kilbright,
his face shining with pleasure. He greeted me warmly,
and thanked me for having so kindly offered to give
him employment by which he might live and feel
under obligations to no man.
I had promised nothing of the kind, and my mind
was filled with abhorrence of such men as Corbridge,
who would not only send a person into the other world
simply to gratify a scientific curiosity or for purposes
of profit, but would rehabilitate a departed spirit with
245


AMOS KILBRIGHT
all his lost needs and appetites, and then foist him
upon a comparative stranger for care and sustenance.
Such conduct was not only mean, but criminal in its
nature, and if there was no law against it, one ought
to be made.
Kilbright then proceeded to tell me how happy he
had been when Corbridge informed him that his de-
materialization had been indefinitely postponed, and
that I had consented to take him into my service.
"It is now plain to me," he said, "that they have no
power to do this thing and cannot obtain it from
others. This discardment of me proves that they have
abandoned their hopes."
It was evident that Corbridge had said nothing of
the expected coming of the German scientist, and I
would not be cruel enough to speak of it myself. Be-
sides, I intended to have said scientist arrested and
put under bonds as soon as he set foot on our shores.
"I do not feel," continued Kilbright, "that I am
beginning a new life, but that I am taking up my old
one at the point where I left it off."
"You cannot do that," I said. "Things have
changed very much, and you will have to adapt your-
self to those changes. In many ways you must begin
again."
"I know that," he said, "and with respect to much
that I see about me I am but a child. But as I am
truly a man, I shall begin to do a man's work, and
what I know not of the things that are about me, that
will I learn as quickly as may be. It is my purpose,
sir, to labor with you in any manner which you may
deem fit, and in which I may be found serviceable,
until I have gained sufficient money to travel to Bix-
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
bury, and there endeavor to establish myself in some
worthy employment. I had at that place a small
estate, but of that I shall take no heed. Without
doubt it has gone, rightly, to my heirs, and even if I
could deprive them of it, I would not."
"Have you living heirs besides your grandson here?"
I asked.
"That I know not," he said. "But if there be such
I greatly long to see them."
"And how about old Mr. Scott?" said I. "When
shall we go to him and tell him who you are?"
"I greatly desire that that may be done soon," an-
swered Kilbright, "but first I wish to establish myself
in some means of livelihood, so that he may not think
that I come to him for maintenance."
Of course it was not possible for me to turn this man
away and tell him I had nothing for him to do, and
therefore I must devise employment for him. I found
that he wrote a fair hand, a little stiff and labored,
but legible and neat, and as I had a good deal of copy-
ing to do, I decided to set him to work upon this. I
procured board and lodging for him in a house near
by, and a very happy being was Amos Kilbright.
As for me, I felt that I was doing my duty, and a
good work. But the responsibility was heavy, and
my road was not at all clear before me. My principal
source of anxiety was in regard to my wife. Should
I tell her the truth about my new copyist, or not? In
the course of a night I resolved this question, and de-
termined to tell her everything. When the man was
merely Mr. Corbridge's subject the case was different;
but to have daily in my office a clerk who had been
drowned one hundred and two years before, and not
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
tell Mrs. Colesworthy of it would be an injustice to
her.
When I first made known to her the facts of the case,
my wife declared that she believed "psychics" had
turned my brain. But when I offered to show her
the very man who had been materialized, she con-
sented to go down and look at him. I informed Kil-
bright that my wife knew his story, and we three had
a long and very interesting conversation. After an
hour's talk, during which my wife asked a great many
questions which I should never have thought of, we
went up-stairs and left Kilbright to his work.
"His story is a most wonderful one," said Mrs. Coles-
worthy, "but I don't believe he is a materialized spirit,
because the thing is impossible. Still, it will not do to
make any mistakes, and we must try all we can to help
him in case he was drowned when he says he was, and
if that German comes over to end his mortal career a
second time. Science is getting to be such a wicked
thing that I am sure if he crosses the ocean on purpose
to dematerialize Mr. Kilbright, he will try to do it in
some way or other, whether the poor man was ever a
spirit before or not. One thing, however, is certain :
I want to be present when old Mr. Scott is told that
that young man is his grandfather."
Mr. Kilbright worked very assiduously, and soon
proved himself of considerable use to me. When he
had lived in Bixbury he had been a surveyor and a
farmer, and now, when he finished his copying duties
for the day, or when I had no work of that kind ready
for him, it delighted him much to go into my garden
and rake and hoe among the flowers and vegetables.
I frequently walked with him about the town, showing
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
and explaining to him the great changes that had
taken place since the former times in which he had
lived. But he was not impressed by these things as I
expected him to be.
"It seems to me," he said, "as though I was in a
foreign country, and I look upon what lies about me
as if everything had always been as I see it. This
town is so different from anything I have ever known
that I cannot imagine it has changed from a condition
which was once familiar to me. At Bixbury, however,
I think the case will be otherwise. If there are
changes there I shall notice them. In a little place
like that, however, I have hopes that the changes will
not be great."
He was very conservative, and I could see that in
many cases he thought the old ways of doing things
much better than the new ones. He was, however, a
polite and sensible man, and knew better than to make
criticisms to one who had befriended him. But in
some cases he could not conceal his disapprobation.
He had seen a train of cars before I met him, and I
was not able to induce him to approach again a rail-
road track. Whatever other feelings he may have had
at first sight of a train in motion were entirely swal-
lowed up in his abhorrence of this mode of travelling.
"We must not be in a hurry," said my wife, when
we talked of these matters. "When he gets more ac-
customed to these things he will be more surprised at
them."
There were some changes, however, which truly did
astonish him, and these were the alterations-in his
opinion, entirely uncalled for and unwarrantable-
which had been made in the spelling of the words of
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
our language since he had gone to school. No steam-
engine, no application of electricity, none of the
modern inventions which I showed him, caused him
the emotions of amazement which were occasioned by
the information that in this country "honor" was now
spelled without a u.
During this time Mr. Kilbright's interest in his
grandson seemed to be on the increase. He would
frequently walk past the house of that old gentleman
merely for the purpose of looking at him as he sat by
the open window reading his newspaper or quietly
smoking his evening pipe on a bench in his side yard.
When he had been with me about ten days he said:
"I now feel that I must go and make myself known to
my grandson. I am earning my own subsistence, and,
however he may look upon me, he need not fear that
I am come to be a burden upon him. You will not
wonder, sir, that I long to meet with this son of the
little baby girl I left behind me."
I did not wonder, and my wife and I agreed to go
with him that very evening to old Mr. Scott's house.
The old gentleman received us very cordially in his
little parlor.
"You are a stranger in this town, sir," he said to
Kilbright. "I did not exactly catch your name. Kil-
bright?" he said, when it had been repeated to him.
"That is one of my family names, but it is long since I
have heard of any one bearing it. My mother was a
Kilbright, but she had no brothers, and no uncles of
the name. My grandfather was the last of our branch
of the Kilbrights. His name was Amos, and he was a
Bixbury man. From what part of the country do you
come, sir?"
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
"My name is Amos, and I was born in Bixbury."
Old Mr. Scott sat up very straight in his chair.
"Young man, that seems to me impossible!" he ex-
claimed. "How could there be any Kilbrights in Bix-
bury and I not know of it?" Then, taking a pair of
big silver spectacles from his pocket, he put them on
and attentively surveyed his visitor, whose counte-
nance during this scrutiny was filled with emotion.
Presently the old gentleman took off his spectacles,
and, rising from his chair, went into another room.
Quickly returning, he brought with him a small oil-
painting in a narrow, old-fashioned frame. He stood
it up on a table in a position where a good light from
the lamp fell upon it. It was the portrait of a young
man with a fresh, healthy face, dressed in an old-style
high-collared coat, with a wide cravat coming up
under his chin, and a bit of ruffle sticking out from his
shirt-bosom. My wife and I gazed at it with awe.
"That," said old Mr. Scott, "is the picture of my
grandfather, Amos Kilbright, taken at twenty-five.
He was drowned at sea some years afterwards, but
exactly how I do not know. My mother did not re-
member him at all. And I must say," he continued,
putting on his spectacles again, "that there is some-
thing of a family likeness between you, sir, and that
picture. If it wasn't for the continental clothes in the
painting there would be a good deal of resemblance—
yes, a very great deal."
"It is my portrait," said Mr. Kilbright, his voice
trembling as he spoke. "It was painted by Tatlow
Munson in the winter of seventeen hundred and eighty,
in payment for my surveying a large tract of land
north of the town, he having no money to otherwise
251


AMOS KILBRIGHT
He wrote his name in ink upon the
compensate me.
back of the canvas."
Old Mr. Scott took up the picture and turned it
around; and there we all saw plainly written upon
the time-stained back, "Tatlow Munson, 1780.”
Old Mr. Scott laid the picture upon the table, took
off his spectacles, and with wide-open eyes gazed first
at Mr. Kilbright and then at us.
The sight of the picture had finished the conversion
of my wife. "Oh, Mr. Scott," she cried, leaning so far
forward in her chair that it seemed as if she were
about to go down on her knees before the old man,
"this gentleman is your grandfather! Yes, he is,
indeed! Oh, don't discard him, for it was you who
were the cause of his being here. Don't you remem-
ber when you went to the spiritualist meeting, and
asked to see the spirit of your grandfather? That
spirit came, but you didn't know it. The people who
materialized him were surprised when they saw this
young man, and they thought he couldn't be your
grandfather, and so they didn't say anything about it.
They left him right in the middle of whatever they
use, and he kept on materializing without their think-
ing of him until he became just what you see him
And if he now wore old-fashioned clothes, with
a queue, he would be the exact image of that portrait
of him which you have, only a little bit older-looking
and fuller in the face. But the spiritualists made him
cut off his long hair, because they said that wouldn't
do in these days, and dressed him in those common
clothes just like any other person. Now, dear Mr.
Scott, you must see for yourself that he is truly your
grandfather!"
now.
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
Old Mr. Scott made no answer, but still sat with
wide-open eyes, gazing from one to the other of us.
As I looked at that aged, white-haired man, and
thought of his mother, who must have died ever so
long ago, being the daughter of the young man who sat
opposite to him, it was indeed difficult to believe that
these things could be so.
"Mr. Scott," exclaimed my wife, "will you not speak
to him? Will you not give him your hand? Will
you not acknowledge him as your grandfather, whose
picture you have always had near you, and which,
when a little boy, I expect your dear mother has often
told you to look up to and try to be like? And if you
have grown old, and he has not, on account of differ-
ences in circumstances, why should that make any
difference in your feelings, dear Mr. Scott? Oh, why
don't you let him take you to his heart? I don't see
how you can help it," she said, with a sob, “and you
his little daughter's only child !"
Old Mr. Scott rose to his feet. He pulled down the
sleeves of his coat, and gave an adjusting shake to its
collar and lapels. Then he turned to my wife and
said: "Madam, let us two dance a Virginia reel while
your husband and that other one take the poker and
tongs and beat out the music on the shovel. We might
as well be durned fools one way as another, and all go
to the lunatic asylum together."
Now arose Mr. Kilbright to his feet, and stood up
very tall. "Grandson Lemuel," he said, "I leave not
your house in anger. I see well that too heavy a task
has been laid upon your declining years when you are
asked to believe that which you have heard to-day.
But I wish you to know that I am here to ask nothing
253


AMOS KILBRIGHT
of you save that you will give me your hand.
I ear-
nestly crave that I may again touch one of my own
flesh and blood."
Old Mr. Scott picked up the portrait and looked at
it. Then he laid it down and looked at Mr. Kilbright.
"Young man," said he, "can you stand there and put
your hand upon your heart, and say to me that you
are truly Amos Kilbright, my mother's father, who
was drowned in the last century, and who was brought
back and turned into a live man by those spiritualists,
and that you are willing to come here and let yourself
be vouched for by Mr. and Mrs. Colesworthy, who be-
long to some sort of society of that kind and ought to
know about such things?"
I was on the point of remarking that the Society for
Psychical Research had nothing to do with spiritualism
except to investigate it, but my wife saw my intention
and checked me.
Mr. Kilbright put his hand upon his heart and
bowed. "What you have heard is true," he said.
"On my honor, I swear it."
"Then, grandfather," said old Mr. Scott, "here is
my hand. It doesn't do to doubt things in these days.
I didn't believe in the telephone when they first told
me of it, but when I had a talk with Squire Braddon
through a wire, and heard his new boots creak as he
came up to see who it was wanted him, and he in his
own house a good two miles away, I gave in. 'Fetch
on your wonders,' says I, 'I am ready.' And I don't
suppose I ought to be any more dumfounded at seeing
my grandfather than at any of the other wonders.
I'm getting too old now to try to find out the whys
and the wherefores of the new things that turn up
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
every day. I must just take them as they come.
So, if you, Grandfather Kilbright, and our good
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Colesworthy, will come into the
back room, we'll have a cup of tea, and a talk over old
times. To be sure, there will be some gaps which none
of us will be able to get over, but we must do the best
we can."
After this Mr. Kilbright and his grandson saw a
good deal of each other, and the old gentleman always
treated his mother's father with the respectful defer-
ence which was due to such a relative.
"There are times," he once said to me, "when this
grandfather business looks to me about as big and
tough as anything that any human being was ever
called on to swallow. But then I consider that you
and Mrs. Colesworthy have looked into these matters,
and I haven't, and that knowin' nothing I ought to say
nothing. And if it ever happens to look particularly
tough, I just call to mind the telephone and Squire
Braddon's creaking boots, and that settles it."
Mr. Kilbright became more and more useful to me,
particularly after he had disciplined his mind to
the new style of spelling. When he had been with
me about a month I insisted that he should take a
holiday and visit Bixbury, for I knew that to do this
was the great desire of his heart. He could easily
reach his native place by rail, but believing that he
would rather not go at all than travel on a train, I
procured a saddle-horse for him, and when I had given
him full directions as to the roads, he set out.
In four days he returned. "How did you find Bix-
bury?" I asked of him.
"There is no longer such a place," he answered
255


AMOS KILBRIGHT
sadly. "I found a town of that name, but it is not
the Bixbury in which I was born. That has utterly
disappeared."
And after this he never again alluded to his native
place.
The high character and many admirable qualities
of this man daily increased the affectionate regard and
esteem in which he was held by my wife and myself,
and, feeling that we could do nothing better for him
than to endeavor to make him forget the things of the
past, and take a lively and earnest interest in those of
the present, we set ourselves to work upon this task.
In a great degree our efforts were successful, and we
soon perceived that Mr. Kilbright cared more and
more for what he saw about him. It was, indeed,
natural that he should do this, for he was still a young
man, and able to adapt himself to changes in his sur-
roundings.
As I have said, he gradually did so adapt himself,
and in the course of the autumn this adaptation took
a form which at first amused Mrs. Colesworthy and
myself, and afterwards enlisted our hearty sympathy.
He became attached to Miss Budworth, the librarian
of our town library. He frequently went there for
books, and as she was a very intelligent young woman,
and very willing to aid him in his selections, it was
not strange that he should become interested in her.
Very often he would remain at the library until it
closed in the evening, when he would walk to her
home with her, discoursing upon literary and histori-
cal subjects.
My wife and I discussed this situation very thor.
oughly. Lilian Budworth was a good girl, a sensible
I
256


AMOS KILBRIGHT
one, and a very good-looking one. Her family was
highly respectable and her years well proportioned to
those of Mr. Kilbright. There seemed to be, there-
fore, no reason why this intimacy should not be en-
couraged. But yet we talked over the matter night
after night.
"You see," said my wife, "it all seems plain and
simple enough. But, on the other hand, it isn't. In
the first place, she does not know that he has had a
wife, or what old Mr. Scott is to him. He has prom-
ised us that he will never say anything to anybody
about having lived in the last century without first
consulting us. Old Mr. Scott has said over and over
again that he doesn't intend to speak of it, and the
spiritualists have left town long ago. So, of course,
she knows nothing about it. But if things go on she
must be told, and what will happen then I would like
to know!"
"I am very sorry, indeed, that I cannot tell you,” I
answered.
"It would be a queer case, anyway," Mrs. Coles-
worthy continued. "Mr. Kilbright has had a wife,
but he never was a widower. Now, having been mar-
ried, and never having been a widower, it would seem
as if he ought not to marry again. But his wife is
dead now; there can be no doubt about that."
It was not long before there was no further need for
suppositions in regard to this matter, for Mr. Kilbright
came to us and announced that he had determined to
offer himself in marriage to Miss Budworth.
"I think it is meet and proper," he said, "that I
should wed and take that position at the head of a
family which a right-minded and respectable man of
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
my age should fill. I reasoned thus when, for the first
time, I took upon me this pleasing duty, and these
reasons have now the selfsame weight as then. I
have been studying the surveying methods of the pres-
ent day, and I believe I could reëstablish myself in
my former profession. Thus could I maintain a wife,
if, haply, I get her."
"Get her!" exclaimed Mrs. Colesworthy. "Of course
you will get her! She can't help accepting you."
"I should feel the more hope, madam," said Mr.
Kilbright, "were it not requisite that she be informed
of all that has happened to me. And all this must she
know before I require her to make answer to me.”
“I must admit,” I said, "that I am afraid you are
going to have a tough job."
"I don't believe it!" warmly exclaimed my wife.
"Lilian Budworth is a girl of good, solid sense, and
when she knows just exactly what has happened, it is
my opinion she will not object a bit."
"Madam," said Mr. Kilbright, "you greatly em-
bolden me, and I shall speak to Miss Budworth this
very day."
Notwithstanding my wife's confidence in Miss Lil-
ian's good sense, she was as much surprised as I when,
the next morning, Mr. Kilbright informed us that he
had been accepted. As it was yet an hour before the
library would open, she hurried around to Miss Bud-
worth's home to know all about it.
The young lady was found pale but very happy.
"When he left me last night," she said, "my mind
was in a strange hubbub. He had told me that he
loved me, and had asked me to marry him, and my
heart would not let me say anything but yes. And
258


AMOS KILBRIGHT
yet, after he had gone, his wondrous story came up
before me as it had not come when he told it, having
just been told something else. I did not sleep all night,
thinking of it. I have read and pondered a great
deal upon these subjects, but I have never been able to
make up my mind whether or not to put faith in the
strange spiritual manifestations of which we are told.
So I determined, a good while ago, not to consider
the matter at all. I could do nothing with it, and it
I would be better that I should let it alone. To this
same determination I came early this morning in the
case of Mr. Kilbright. None of us knows what he may
once have been, nor what he may become. All we
know is what we are. Mr. Kilbright may be mistaken
as to what he was, but I know what he is. And to
that man I give myself as I am. I am perfectly satis-
fied with the present."
Mrs. Colesworthy enfolded her in an approbatory
embrace, and hurried home to tell me about it.
"There, now!" she exclaimed, "didn't I say that
Lilian Budworth was a girl of good, sound common
sense?"
"That is what you said," I answered, "but I must
admit that I was afraid her common sense would in-
terfere with her acceptance of his story. We had out-
side evidence in regard to it, but she had only his
simple statement."
"Which is quite enough when a woman truly loves,"
said Mrs. Colesworthy.
When old Mr. Scott was informed of what had hap-
pened, he put down his newspaper, took off his spec-
tacles, and smiled a strange, wide smile. "I have been
reading," he said, "about a little machine, or box, that
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
you can talk into and then cork up and send by mail
across the ocean to anybody you know there. And
then he can uncork it, and out will come all you have
said in your very words and voice, with the sniffles
and sneezes that might have got in accidental; so
that if one of the Old Testament Egyptians that they've
been diggin' up lately had had one of these boxes with
him, it might have been uncorked, and people could
have heard in his own voice just who he was and what
was his personal opinion of Moses and his brother
Aaron. Now, when an old man like me has just come
to know of a thing of this kind, it isn't for him to have
a word to say when he is told that Lilian Budworth is
to be his step-grandmother. He must take it in along
with the other wonders."
As to Mr. Kilbright and his lady-love, they troubled
themselves about no wonders. Life was very real to
them, and very delightful, and they were happy.
Despite her resolutions to give no consideration what-
ever to her lover's previous existence, Miss Budworth
did consider it a good deal, and talked and thought
about it, and at last came to understand and to appre-
ciate the fact as thoroughly as did Mrs. Colesworthy
and myself. She learned much more of Mr. Kilbright's
former life than his modesty had allowed him to tell
us, and some of these things she related with much
pride. He had been a soldier during the Revolution,
having enlisted, at the age of twenty-three, under
General Sullivan, when his forces lay near Newport.
He afterwards followed that commander in his Indian
campaigns in western New York, and served during
the rest of the war. It was when the army was in
winter quarters in 1780 that Tatlow Munson painted
260


AMOS KILBRIGHT
his portrait in payment of an old debt. Miss Bud-
worth's glowing rendition of Mr. Kilbright's allusions
to some of the Revolutionary incidents in which he
had had a part made us proud to shake hands with a
man who had fought for our liberties and helped to
give us the independence we now enjoy.
Mr. Kilbright's business prospects soon began to
look promising. As was quite natural, his ideas upon
some subjects were a little antiquated. But although
many of the changes and improvements he saw about
him met with no favor in his eyes, he had sense enough
to take advantage of certain modern progressive ideas,
especially such as related to his profession of surveying.
My introduction of him as a friend from Bixbury
helped him much in respect to patronage, and having
devoted all his spare time during the autumn and
winter to study and the formation of business connec-
tions, he secured enough profitable employment for
the coming season to justify him in taking to himself
a wife, and his marriage with Miss Budworth was
appointed for the middle of April.
It was about the end of March when I received a
letter from Mr. Corbridge, the spiritualist manager,
in which he informed me that Dr. Hildstein, the Ger-
man scientist of whom he had previously spoken to
me, had set sail for America and would probably ar-
rive in about ten days.
"As soon as possible after his arrival," wrote Mr.
Corbridge, "we shall resume possession of the subject
of whom you have been kind enough to take charge
during the time when we had no need of him. He will
then be dematerialized in order that we may cause him
to manifest himself in our séances whenever it may be
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
desirable, but never, I may say, in the complete and
perfect physical condition to which he was unintention-
ally materialized the first time. I promised you that I
would give you at least three days' notice of our inten-
tion to resume work on this subject, and I have now
been much better than my word. I have written very
plainly of our intentions, because we wish you to under-
stand exactly what we are going to do; and should
we succeed in our proposed experiment, which we cer-
tainly expect to do, we shall, probably, make public our
whole action in the affair, for this course would most
greatly benefit both ourselves and our cause. It will
not be necessary for you to inform the subject of our
intention, for our power over him will be as great at one
time and at one place as at another; and as his coöpera-
tion is not in any way needful, you will see for yourself
that it will be pleasanter for him not to concern himself
with what we are about to do."
When I had read this letter, I sat for half an hour
with it open in my hands. It came upon me like a
shower of iced water. I had supposed that the spirit-
ualists had utterly abandoned their endeavors to de-
materialize Mr. Kilbright. Therefore the news of the
revival of these criminal intentions greatly shocked
me. To be sure, the coming scientist might have no
such power as he pretended to possess, but this sup-
position did not comfort me. If the man had not al-
ready had success in that sort of thing it was not likely
that he would come over here to attempt it now.
When I had sufficiently quieted my mental agita-
tion I wrote instantly to Mr. Corbridge, and in my
letter I assumed a very confident tone. I told him
that Mr. Kilbright's circumstances had so changed
that the intended action of the spiritualists in regard
1
262


AMOS KILBRIGHT
to him was now rendered impossible. He had become
an active member of society, had gone into business,
and would be married in April. The mere statement
of these facts I felt quite certain,—so I wrote,—would
cause the spiritualists to instantly relinquish all idea
of carrying out their previous intention in regard to
this most estimable man. If, however, any inhuman
craving for scientific investigation should cause them
to persist in their cruel and criminal designs, the
utmost power of the law should be invoked against
them. "To take away human life," I wrote, "in a
case like this is murder, no matter how it is done, and
should you take away Mr. Kilbright's life, or even
attempt it, you shall be indicted and punished for this
cold-blooded and premeditated crime."
Before I mailed this letter, I found it absolutely
necessary for my peace of mind that I should make my
wife acquainted with the threatened danger, and con-
fer with her as to what it would be well to do. Of
course, Mrs. Colesworthy was greatly shocked when I
read her Corbridge's letter, but she recovered courage
sooner than I had done.
"It's all stuff and nonsense," she said. "The man
is just as much alive as you and I are, and I don't be-
lieve any human power can turn him into a spirit.
They might kill him, but then he would be a dead
man and not a spiritual mist or vapor. I don't believe
they even intend to try to do anything of the kind.
They merely wish you to hand him over to them so
they can make him work for them for little or no pay.
They think, and with good reason, too, that by this time
you have taught him how to get along at the present
day, and that he may now be of some use to them."
+
263


AMOS KILBRIGHT
I showed her the letter I had written, and she highly
approved of it. "If I were you," she said, "I would
send that letter, and then I would not do another
thing. Take my word for it, you will never hear from
those people again."
We resolved, of course, that we would say nothing
to Mr. Kilbright or Lilian about this matter, for it
was unwise to needlessly trouble their minds. But we
could not help talking about it a great deal ourselves.
In spite of the reassuring arguments which we con-
tinually thought of, or spoke of to each other, we were
troubled, anxious, and apprehensive.
"If we could only get them safely married," said
Mrs. Colesworthy, "I should feel at ease. Certainly
those people would not do anything to him then.”
"I don't believe they can do anything to him at
all," I answered. "But how a marriage is going to
protect him I cannot imagine."
"Of course, you can't explain such things," said my
wife, "but I do wish they were married and settled."
Not long after this she came to me with a supposi-
tion. "Supposing," she said, "that those people find
it impossible to dematerialize him, they might do
something which would be a great deal worse."
"What could that possibly be?" I asked.
"They might materialize his first wife," said she,
"and could anything be more dreadful than that? I
suppose that woman lived to a good old age, and to
bring her forward now would be a height of cruelty
of which I believe those people to be fully capable."
"My dear," I exclaimed, "don't bring up any har-
rowing possibilities which no one but yourself is likely
to think of!"
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
"I wish I could be sure of that," she said. "I have
heard, but I don't know how true it is, that spirits
cannot be called up and materialized unless somebody
wants them, and I don't suppose there is anybody who
wants the first Mrs. Kilbright. But these men might
so work on Mr. Kilbright's mind as to make him think
that he ought to want her."
I groaned. "Dear me !" I said. "I suppose if they
did that they would also bring up old Mr. Scott's
mother, and then we should have a united family."
"And a very funny one it would be," said my wife,
smiling, notwithstanding her fears, "for now I remem-
ber that old Mr. Scott told me that his grandmother
died before she was sixty, but that his mother lived to
be seventy-five. Now, he is eighty, if he is a day, so
there would be a regular gradation of ages in the
family, only it would run backward instead of in the
usual way. But, thinking it over, I don't believe the
spiritualists will permanently bring up any more of
that family. If they did, they would have to support
them, for they could not ask old Mr. Scott to do it,
who hasn't money enough to satisfy his descendants,
and ought not to be expected to support his an-
cestors."
My letter must have had a good deal of effect upon
Mr. Corbridge, for in less than a week after it was
written he came into my office. He informed me that
he and his associates were about to give a series of
séances in our town, but that he had come on before
the others in order to talk to me. "I am extremely
sorry," he said, "to hear of this proposed marriage.
We want to do what is right and fair, and we have no
desire that any act of ours shall create a widow."
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
"Then," I exclaimed, "you relinquish your design
against Mr. Kilbright?"
"Not at all," said he. "We shall carry out our plan
before our subject marries. If you choose to hurry up
matters and have the wedding take place before we
are ready to proceed with our dematerializing process,
we shall be very sorry, but the blame must rest on
you. You should have had consideration enough for
all parties to prevent any such complication as an en-
gagement to marry. As to what you said in your
letter in regard to invoking the law against us, I at-
tach no weight whatever to that threat."
"You will find you have made a great mistake,"
said I, angrily, "when I have brought the law to bear
upon you, which now I shall not delay to do."
"You will merely bring ridicule upon yourself,” he
said, "if you assert that the man you wish to protect
is Amos Kilbright. We can prove by records, still to
be seen in Bixbury, that said person died in seventeen
hundred and eighty-five. On the other hand, if you
choose to assert that he is, or was, anybody else, how
are you going to prove it? All that you can say is that
the person you refer to came from you know not where,
and has gone you know not where. If you declare that
at one time he was a materialized spirit, you know very
well how such a statement as that would be received
in a court of law. It will be much wiser to let it be
supposed that the person who has lately been seen
about this town has run off to Canada than to make
any sort of legal inquiry into the matter. If said
person were really a man we could have nothing
to do with his disappearance, while if he were a
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
materialized spirit the law would have nothing to do
with him."
I arose and paced the floor. There was entirely too
much force in this man's arguments, but although I
could not immediately answer him, his cool determi-
nation to persevere in his iniquitous designs so angered
me that I declared that he should be punished if I had
to do it myself.
"Then you admit," he said, with a smile, "that the
law cannot do it. The situation," he continued, "is
very plain to us. Although the law can take no cog-
nizance of our action, the case will be very different
with all believers in spiritualism, and those who are
interested in us. The news that we have done this
thing will spread through the spiritualistic circles of
the world."
"Has your German arrived?" I asked abruptly.
"Not yet," answered Corbridge, "but we expect him
in a few days. He will come directly to this town,
because we wish to give him an opportunity of ob-
serving the subject in his present form before begin-
ning the dematerializing process."
"What refinement of cruelty!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, of course, the doctor will not make himself
known," said Corbridge. "He will merely wish to
take a good look at the subject, and see for himself
how perfect his materialization has been. Then he
will know just what work is before him."
So saying, Mr. Corbridge went away, leaving me
too angry to speak, if, indeed, I could have thought
of anything which it would have been worth my while
to say.
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
When Mrs. Colesworthy heard what Corbridge had
said, she turned white. "They must be married in-
stantly!" she exclaimed. "I knew that was the only
way."
It was all very well to talk of an immediate mar-
riage, but it was not so easy to bring it about. It was
yet a week before the day fixed for the wedding, and
the happy lovers were busy with their preparations,
never dreaming of the danger which hung over them.
What reason could we give for hastening the marriage
rites? At one time we thought it might be wise to
explain to them fully the state of the case, but from
this course we were deterred for fear of the terrible
effect that the news might have on Lilian. Should
she hear of the design of Dr. Hildstein, she would
never again have a moment's peace, married or un-
married. Once I advised that the two be dissuaded
from marrying, at least for a year. In that time we
could see if these people really had any power over
Mr. Kilbright.
"That will not do at all," said Mrs. Colesworthy.
"It will be very long to postpone their happiness, and
besides, if that German gets hold of Mr. Kilbright
while he is still unmarried, he will snap him up, or
rather blow him out, in no time."
"I thought we had persuaded ourselves," I said
sadly, "that no one could have any real power of
dematerialization."
"So we had," said she, "but that sort of persuasion
does not always last."
The result was that we did nothing but hope for the
best. But we could not blame ourselves, for, really,
there was nothing else to do. I had given up all idea
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
of endeavoring to put Mr. Corbridge and his associates
under legal restriction, because if they had power to
do the evil we feared, they could do it in one place as
well as another, and no court could determine when,
how, or by whom Mr. Kilbright had been dematerial-
ized.
The day before the wedding day the German doctor
arrived in our town; and having heard this, I went
immediately to the hotel where Mr. Corbridge and his
party were staying. The spiritualistic manager was
not glad to see me, and frankly said so.
"I had hoped," he remarked, "that you had con-
cluded to keep out of this thing. It is no concern of
yours. You can be of no possible good to anybody,
and the wisest thing you can do will be to drop it."
I assured him that I had no intention of dropping
it, and that I should do everything in my power to
protect Mr. Kilbright.
"Then, again," continued Corbridge, "there is really
no need of giving yourself all this worry. Dr. Hild-
stein may succeed, and he may not. We have failed,
and so may he. He has seen the subject, and has come
to a very philosophical and sensible conclusion in re-
gard to him. He will not believe, merely on our
assertion, that the man is a materialized spirit. He
will proceed with his experiments, and, if they fail, he
will consider that the man is a man, and was never
anything else. If they succeed, then he will be quite
satisfied that he had a perfect right to dematerialize
what we had materialized."
"Then you really believe," I said, "that there is a
chance that he may fail?"
"Of course there is," said Corbridge. "I do not
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
know his methods, and there may be nothing in
them."
I had no doubt that this change of tone in Cor-
bridge was intended to produce in me a feeling of
security, that they might thus rid themselves of me.
But, though I saw through his purpose, the man's
words encouraged me. Of course there must be a good
deal of doubt about the German's powers, and, after
all, there might be no cause whatever for our anxieties.
"Now, sir," said Corbridge, as I left, "if I were you
I would trouble myself no more about this matter.
If Dr. Hildstein fails, you will still have your man to
do your copying, or your surveying, or anything you
like. If he succeeds, we are all in the same condition
we were a year ago. "That subject did not exist at
that time. He does not exist at this time.' That will
be all we shall have to say about it."
"You forget," I said severely, "the wife he may
leave behind him."
"I have nothing to say about that," said Corbridge,
rather sharply. "It is a reprehensible business, and I
have nothing to do with it."
I went away without seeing the German doctor, but
as I heard he spoke no English, and as I did not know
German, an interview with him would have been of
no avail.
Neither Mrs. Colesworthy nor myself slept that
night, we were so filled with anxious fears. But when
the day broke, bright and clear, and I had hurried
round to Mr. Kilbright's lodgings, and had found him
as full of life and vigor as I had ever seen him, we
were greatly comforted, and ate our breakfasts with
fair appetites.
1
270


AMOS KILBRIGHT
"If it had been a dark and lowering day," said my
wife, "I don't believe I could have swallowed a
mouthful."
The marriage was to take place at noon, and the
happy pair were to start by the first afternoon train
for the sea-shore, where they were to spend a week.
Mr. Kilbright hated locomotives and railroads almost
as much as ever, but he had told me some time before
that he intended to conquer this prejudice, if such a
thing were possible.
"Being one of you, I must do as you do," he had
said.
The wedding was to be a very simple one. Miss
Budworth was to go from her mother's house to the
church, where Mr. Kilbright was to meet her. We
insisted that he should dress at our house, where he
would find better accommodations than at his lodg-
ings; and we assigned him our best guest-room,
where he repaired in very good season to array him-
self in his wedding suit.
It was not quite eleven o'clock when I went up-stairs
to see if I could be of any use to Mr. Kilbright in re-
gard to the conclusion of his toilet. I knocked at
the door, but received no answer. Waiting a few
moments, I opened it and entered. On the floor, in
front of a tall dressing-glass, was a suit of clothes.
Not only did I see the black broadcloth suit,—not laid
out at length, but all in a compact heap,-but I saw
the shoes and stockings, the collar and cravat, every-
thing. Near by lay a whisk broom.
The truth was plain. While giving the last touches
to his wedding attire, all that was Amos Kilbright
had utterly disappeared!
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
I stood where I had stopped, just inside the door,
trembling, scarcely breathing, so stunned by the ter-
rible sight of those clothes that I could not move, nor
scarcely think. If I had seen his dead body there I
should have been shocked; but to see nothing! It
was awful to such an extent that my mind could not
deal with it.
Presently I heard a step, and slightly turning, saw
my wife close by me. She had passed the open door,
and seeing me standing as if stricken into a statue,
had entered.
It did not need that I should speak to her. Pale
as a sheet, she stood beside me, her hand tightly grasp-
ing my arm, and with her lips pallid with horror, she
formed the words: "They have done it!"
In a few moments she pulled me gently back, and
said in quick, low tones, as if we had been in presence
of the dead: "In less than an hour she will be at the
church. We must not stay here."
With this she turned and stepped quickly from the
room. I followed, closing the door behind me.
Swiftly moving, and without a word, my wife put
on her hat and left the house. Mechanically I fol-
lowed. I could speak no word of comfort to that poor
girl, at this moment the happiest of expectant brides.
I knew that I had not the power even to attempt to
explain to her the nature of the dreadful calamity
that had fallen upon her. But I could not let my wife
go alone. She, indeed, must speak to Lilian, but there
were other members of the family. I might do some-
thing.
To my great surprise, Mrs. Colesworthy did not turn
into the street which led to the Budworths' house, but
272


AMOS KILBRIGHT
went straight on. I thought at first she was going to
the church to countermand the wedding preparations ;
but before I could put a question to her she had gone
around a corner, and was hurrying up the steps of the
principal hotel in our town.
"Is Dr. Hildstein in?" she asked of the first person
she met.
The man, gazing astonished at her pallid face, re-
plied that he was, and immediately conducted us to a
little parlor on the first floor, the door of which stood
partly open. Without knocking, Mrs. Colesworthy
hastily entered, I closely following. A middle-aged
man suddenly arose from a small table at which he
was sitting, and, turning quickly toward us, made an
abrupt exclamation in German.
As I have said, I do not understand German, but
Mrs. Colesworthy knows the language well, and step-
ping up to the man, she said (she afterwards told me
the meaning of the words that passed between them):
"Are you Dr. Hildstein?"
"I am," he said, his face agitated by emotion, and
his eyes sparkling; "but I can see no one, speak to no
one! I go out this moment to observe the result of an
important experiment!"
My wife motioned to me to close the door. "You
need not go," she said, "I can tell you that your ex-
periment has succeeded. You have dematerialized
Mr. Kilbright. In one hour he was to be married to
a noble, loving woman, and now all that remains
where he stood is a pile of clothes!"
"Do you tell me that?" exclaimed the doctor, wildly
seizing his hat.
"Stop!" cried Mrs. Colesworthy, her face glowing
273


AMOS KILBRIGHT
!
with excitement, her eyes flashing, and her right arm
extended. "Stir not one step! Do you know what
you have done?"
"I have done what I had a right to do!" exclaimed
the doctor, almost in a shout. "If he is gone he was
nothing but a spirit. Tell me where-"
"I will tell you this!" exclaimed my wife. "He
was a great deal more than a spirit. He was a man
engaged to be married at twelve o'clock this day.
You may think there is no law that will sweep down
on you, but I tell you there is, and before the clock
strikes twelve you shall know it. Do you imagine
you have come upon a people who will endure the
presence of an ogre―a wretch who reduces to noth-
ing a fellow human being, and calls it an experiment?
When we tell what you have done,-my husband can-
not speak German, but he is a leader in this town, and
he supports me in all I say,-when we have told what
you have done, there will be no need of courts or
judges or lawyers for you. Like a wild beast you will
be hunted down. You will be trampled under foot,
you will be torn to pieces! Fire, the sword, the hang-
man's noose, clubs, and crowbars will not be enough
to satisfy the vengeance of an outraged people upon
a cold-blooded wretch who came to this country solely
for the purpose of perpetrating a crime more awful
than anything that was ever known before! Did you
ever hear of lynching? I see by your face you know
what that means. You are in the midst of a people
who, in ten short minutes, will be shrieking for your
blood!"
The man's face changed, and he looked anxiously
at me. I did not know what my wife had been say-
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
ing, but I had seen by her manner that she had been
threatening him, and I shook my uplifted fist.
"Now, heed what I say," cried Mrs. Colesworthy.
"If you do not wish to perish at the hands of an in-
furiated mob, to die a thousand deaths before your
vile spirit leaves this world, knowing that, besides
the torments you feel, and those which are to come,
you will be in the power of men who will bring you
back in a half-finished form to make sport at their
meetings whenever they feel like it—”
Drops of perspiration stood on the doctor's face.
"Stop that!" he cried, throwing up his arm. "I can-
not stand that! I did not know the subject had such
friends!"
"Nothing shall be stopped!" exclaimed my wife,
"and everything shall happen unless you immediately
sit down at that table, or wherever you do those things,
and rematerialize Mr. Kilbright, just as you found him,
and into the very clothes that were left lying upon
the floor!"
The doctor stepped forward-his face was now pale
--and addressed himself very deferentially to my wife,
totally ignoring me. "If you will retire," he said, "I
will try-I swear to you that I will try."
"There is not a minute to be lost," said Mrs. Coles-
worthy, "not one second. And if as much as a finger-
nail is missing, remember what I have told you!"
With this we quickly left the room.
As we went down the steps of the hotel Mrs. Coles-
worthy looked at her watch. "It is twenty-five min-
utes to twelve," she said. "We must get home as fast
as we can."
We hurried along, sometimes almost running.
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AMOS KILBRIGHT
When we reached our house, Mrs. Colesworthy mo-
tioned to me to go up-stairs-she had no breath left
with which to speak. I ran up, and stood for a mo-
ment at the closed door of our guest-room. With my
hand on the knob, I was unable to open it. I heard
a step on the stairs behind me, and I opened the door.
There stood Mr. Kilbright, in his wedding clothes,
with the whisk broom in his hand.
He turned at the sound of my entrance.
"Do you know," cried the cheery voice of my wife
from just outside the door, "that we have barely fifteen
minutes in which to get to the church?”
"Can that be?" cried Mr. Kilbright. "The time
has flown without my knowing it. We must truly
make haste!"
"Indeed we must," said Mrs. Colesworthy, and as
she stepped back from the door, she whispered in my
ear: "Not a look, not a tremble, to let him know!"
In less than thirty seconds we were on our way to
the church, in the carriage which had been ordered
for the purpose.
On the church porch we found old Mr. Scott. He
was dressed in his best clothes, and greeted us cor-
dially. "In good time," he said. "I am glad to see
that. It promises well." Then, looking around to
see that no one was within hearing, he came nearer
to us. "If I were you," he continued, "I wouldn't say
nothing to folks in general about relationships, for there
are people, and very good people, too, whose minds
haven't got on far enough to make 'em able to under-
stand telephones and the other new kinds of wonders."
We acknowledged the force of his remarks, and all
went into the church.
276


AMOS KILBRIGHT
Three days after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Kil-
bright on their wedding tour, my wife received a
letter from Dr. Hildstein, written by himself from
New York, but addressed in the handwriting of Mr.
Corbridge.
"I return," he wrote, " to Germany, perfectly happy
in having succeeded in my experiments; but nevermore,
esteemed lady, will I dematerialize a subject who has
remained long enough in this world to make friends,
and I am the only man who can do this thing."
This letter greatly satisfied us. "It shows that he
has some heart, after all," said Mrs. Colesworthy, "but
as to that man Corbridge, I believe he would have
kept poor Mr. Kilbright dancing backward and for-
ward between this world and the other as long as a
dollar could be made out of him. But there is only
one way in which he can do us any harm now, and
that is by materializing the first Mrs. Kilbright. But
knowing us as he now does, I don't believe he will
ever try that."
"No," said I, "I don't believe he ever will."
Should you ever meet with Mr. Amos Kilbright,
you need not hesitate to intrust him with any sur-
veying you may have on hand. Mr. Corbridge cannot
dematerialize him, the German scientist will not, and
there is no one else in the world who would even think
of such a thing. Therefore you need feel no fear that
he may suddenly vanish from your sight, leaving
nothing behind him but his clothes and the contents
of his pockets-unless, indeed, he should again be so
foolish as to go to swim in the ocean at a point where
there is a strong ebb-tide.
277


J
1
I
I


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH


}


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
W
HENEVER I make a Christmas present I like
it to mean something-not necessarily my
sentiments toward the person to whom I give it, but
sometimes an expression of what I should like that
person to do or to be. In the early part of a certain
winter, not very long ago, I found myself in a position
of perplexity and anxious concern regarding a Christ-
mas present which I wished to make.
The state of the case was this: There was a young
lady, the daughter of a neighbor and old friend of my
father, who had been gradually assuming relations
toward me which were not only unsatisfactory to me,
but were becoming more and more so. Her name was
Mildred Bronce. She was between twenty and twenty-
five years of age, and as fine a woman in every way as
one would be likely to meet in a lifetime. She was
handsome, of a tender and generous disposition, a fine
intelligence, and a thoroughly well-stocked mind. We
had known each other for a long time, and when four-
teen or fifteen Mildred had been my favorite com-
panion. She was a little younger than I, and I liked
her better than any boy I knew. Our friendship had
continued through the years, but of late there had
been a change in it. Mildred had become very fond
281


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
of me, and her fondness seemed to have in it certain
elements which annoyed me.
As a girl to make love to, no one could be better
than Mildred Bronce. But I had never made love to
her, at least not earnestly,-and I did not wish that
any permanent condition of loving should be estab-
lished between us. Mildred did not seem to share
this opinion, for every day it became plainer to me
that she looked upon me as a lover, and that she was
perfectly willing to return my affection.
But I had other ideas upon the subject. Into the
rural town in which my family passed the greater part
of the year there had recently come a young lady, Miss
Janet Clinton, to whom my soul went out of my own
option. In some respects, perhaps, she was not the
equal of Mildred, but she was very pretty. She was
small; she had a lovely mouth; she was apparently of a
clinging nature, and her dark eyes looked into mine
with a tingling effect that no other eyes had ever pro-
duced. I was in love with her because I wished to
be, and the consciousness of this fact caused me a
proud satisfaction. This affair was not the result of
circumstances, but of my own free will.
I wished to retain Mildred's friendship, I wished to
make her happy; and with this latter intent in view
I wished very much that she should not disappoint
herself in her anticipations of the future.
Each year it had been my habit to make Mildred a
Christmas present, and I was now looking for some-
thing to give her which would please her and suit my
purpose.
When a man wishes to select a present for a lady
which, while it assures her of his kind feeling toward
-
282


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
her, shall at the same time indicate that not only has
he no matrimonial inclinations in her direction, but
that it would be entirely unwise for her to have any
such inclinations in his direction; that no matter with
what degree of fondness her heart is disposed to turn
toward him, his heart does not turn toward her, and
that, in spite of all sentiments induced by long associa-
tion and the natural fitness of things, she need never
expect to be to him anything more than a sister, he
has, indeed, a difficult task before him. But such
was the task I set for myself.
Day after day I wandered through the shops. I
looked at odd pieces of jewelry and bric-a-brac, and at
many a quaint relic or bit of art work which seemed
to have a meaning, but nothing had the meaning I
wanted. As to books, I found none which satisfied
me-not one which was adapted to produce the exact
impression that I desired.
One afternoon I was in a little basement shop kept
by a fellow in a long overcoat, who, so far as I was
able to judge, bought curiosities, but never sold any.
For some minutes I had been looking at a beautifully
decorated saucer of rare workmanship for which there
was no cup to match, and for which the proprietor
informed me no cup could be found or manufactured.
There were some points in the significance of an arti-
cle of this sort, given as a present to a lady, which
fitted my purpose, but it would signify too much.
I did not wish to suggest to Mildred that she need
never expect to find a cup. It would be better, in
fact, if I gave her anything of this kind, to send her a
cup and saucer entirely unsuited to each other, and
which could not, under any conditions, be used together.
283


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
I put down the saucer, and continued my search
among the dusty shelves and cases.
"How would you like a paper-weight?" the shop-
keeper asked. "Here is something a little odd,” hand-
ing me a piece of dark-colored mineral nearly as big
as my fist, flat on the under side, and of a pleasing
irregularity above. Around the bottom was a band
of arabesque work in some dingy metal, probably
German silver. I smiled as I took it.
"This is not good enough for a Christmas present,"
I said. "I want something odd, but it must have
some value."
"Well," said the man, "that has no real value, but
there is a peculiarity about it which interested me
when I heard of it, and so I bought it. This mineral is
a piece of what the iron-workers call shadrach. It is a
portion of the iron or iron ore which passes through
the smelting-furnaces without being affected by the
great heat, and so they have given it the name of one of
the Hebrew youths who was cast into the fiery furnace
by Nebuchadnezzar, and who came out unhurt. Some
people think there is a sort of magical quality about
this shadrach, and that it can give out to human beings
something of its power to keep their minds cool when
they are in danger of being overheated. The old
gentleman who had this made was subject to fits of
anger, and he thought this piece of shadrach helped to
keep him from giving way to them. Occasionally he
used to leave it in the house of a hot-tempered neigh-
bor, believing that the testy individual would be cooled
down for a time, without knowing how the change had
been brought about. I bought a lot of things of the
old gentleman's widow, and this among them. I
284


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
thought I might try it some time, but I never
have done so."
I held the shadrach in my hand, ideas concerning it
rapidly flitting through my mind. Why would not
this be a capital thing to give to Mildred? If it
should, indeed, possess the quality ascribed to it, if it
should be able to cool her liking for me, what better
present could I give her? I did not hesitate long.
"I will buy this," I said. "But the ornamentation
must be of a better sort. It is now too cheap and
tawdry-looking."
"I can attend to that for you," said the shopkeeper.
"I can have it set in a band of gold or silver filigree-
work like this, if you choose."
I agreed to this proposition, but ordered the band
to be made of silver, the cool tone of that metal being
more appropriate to the characteristics of the gift than
the warmer hues of gold.
When I gave my Christmas present to Mildred, she
was pleased with it. Its oddity struck her fancy.
"I don't believe anybody ever had such a paper-
weight as that," she said, as she thanked me. "What
is it made of?"
I told her, and explained what shadrach was, but I
did not speak of its presumed influence over human
beings, which, after all, might be nothing but the wild-
est fancy. I did not feel altogether at my ease as I
added that it was merely a trifle, a thing of no value
except as a reminder of the season.
"The fact that it is a present from you gives it
value," she said, as she smilingly raised her eyes to
mine.
I left her house—we were all living in the city then
285


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
-with a troubled conscience. What a deception I
was practising upon this noble girl, who, if she did
not already love me, was plainly on the point of doing
so! She had received my present as if it indicated a
warmth of feeling on my part, when, in fact, it was
the result of a desire for a cooler feeling on her part.
But I called my reason to my aid, and I showed
myself that what I had given Mildred-if it should
prove to possess any virtue at all—was, indeed, a most
valuable boon. It was something which would prevent
the waste of her affections, the wreck of her hopes.
No kindness could be truer, no regard for her happi-
ness more sincere, than the motives which prompted
me to give her the shadrach.
I did not soon again see Mildred, but as often as
possible I visited Janet. She always received me
with a charming cordiality, and if this should develop
into warmer sentiments I was not the man to wish to
cool them. In many ways Janet seemed much better
suited to me than Mildred. One of the greatest charms
of this beautiful girl was a tender trustfulness, as if I
were a being on whom she could lean and to whom
she could look up. I liked this. It was very different
from Mildred's manner. With the latter I had always
been well satisfied if I felt myself standing on the same
plane.
The weeks and months passed on, and again we were
all in the country, and here I saw Mildred often. Our
homes were not far apart, and our families were very
intimate. With my opportunities for frequent obser-
vation I could not doubt that a change had come over
her. She was always friendly when we met, and
seemed as glad to see me as she was to see any other
·
1
286


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
member of my family, but she was not the Mildred I
used to know. It was plain that my existence did not
make the same impression on her that it once made.
She did not seem to consider it important whether I
came or went, whether I was in the room or not,
whether I joined a party or stayed away. All this
had been very different. I knew well that Mildred
had been used to consider my presence as a matter of
much importance, and I now felt sure that my Christ-
mas shadrach was doing its work. Mildred was cooling
toward me. Her affection, or, to put it more mod-
estly, her tendency to affection, was gently congealing
into friendship. This was highly gratifying to my
moral nature, for every day I was doing my best to
warm the soul of Janet. Whether or not I succeeded
in this I could not be sure. Janet was as tender and
trustful and charming as ever, but no more so than
she had been months before.
Sometimes I thought she was waiting for an indica-
tion of an increased warmth of feeling on my part
before she allowed the temperature of her own senti-
ments to rise. But, for one reason and another, I
delayed the solution of this problem. Janet was very
fond of company, and although we saw a great deal of
each other, we were not often alone. If we two had
more frequently walked, driven, or rowed together, as
Mildred and I used to do, I think Miss Clinton would
soon have had every opportunity of making up her
mind about the fervor of my passion.
The summer weeks passed on, and there was no
change in the things which now principally concerned
me, except that Mildred seemed to be growing more
and more indifferent to me. From having seemed to
287


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
care no more for me than for her other friends, she
now seemed to care less for me than for most people.
I do not mean that she showed a dislike, but she
treated me with a sort of indifference which I did not
fancy at all. This sort of thing had gone too far, and
there was no knowing how much further it would go.
It was plain enough that the shadrach was overdoing
the business.
I was now in a state of much mental disquietude.
Greatly as I desired to win the love of Janet, it grieved
me to think of losing the generous friendship of Mil-
dred-that friendship to which I had been accustomed
for the greater part of my life, and on which, as I now
discovered, I had grown to depend.
In this state of mind I went to see Mildred. I found
her in the library, writing. She received me pleas-
antly, and was sorry her father was not at home, and
begged that I would excuse her finishing the note on
which she was engaged, because she wished to get it
into the post-office before the mail closed. I sat down
on the other side of the table, and she finished her
note, after which she went out to give it to a servant.
Glancing about me, I saw the shadrach. It was
partly under a litter of papers, instead of lying on
them. I took it up, and was looking at it when Mil-
dred returned. She sat down and asked me if I had
heard of the changes that were to be made in the time-
table of the railroad. We talked a little on the sub-
ject, and then I spoke of the shadrach, saying care-
lessly that it might be interesting to analyze the bit of
metal. There was a little knob which might be filed
off without injuring it in the least.
"You may take it," she said, "and make what ex-
288


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
periments you please. I do not use it much. It is
unnecessarily heavy for a paper-weight."
From her tone I might have supposed she had
forgotten that I had given it to her. I told her that
I would be very glad to borrow the paper-weight for
a time, and, putting it into my pocket, I went away,
leaving her arranging her disordered papers on the
table, and giving quite as much regard to this occu-
pation as she had given to my little visit.
I could not feel sure that the absence of the shad-
rach would cause any diminution in the coolness of
her feelings toward me, but there was reason to be-
lieve that it would prevent them from growing cooler.
If she should keep that shadrach she might in time
grow to hate me. I was very glad that I had taken
it from her.
My mind easier on this subject, my heart turned
more freely toward Janet, and going to her house
the next day, I was delighted to find her alone. She
was as lovely as ever, and as cordial, but she was
flushed and evidently annoyed.
"I am in a bad humor to-day," she said, "and I am
glad you came to talk to me and quiet me. Dr. Gil-
bert promised to take me to drive this afternoon, and
we were going over to the hills where they find the
wild rhododendron. I am told that it is still in blos-
som up there, and I want some flowers ever so much
-I am going to paint them. Besides, I am crazy to
Idrive with his new horses. And now he sends me
a note to say that he is engaged."
This communication shocked me, and I began to
talk to her about Dr. Gilbert. I soon found that
several times she had been driving with this handsome
289


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
young physician, but never, she said, behind his new
horses, nor to the rhododendron hills.
Dr. Hector Gilbert was a fine young fellow begin-
ning practice in town, and one of my favorite asso-
ciates. I had never thought of him in connection
with Janet, but I could now see that he might make
a most dangerous rival. When a young and talented
doctor, enthusiastic in his studies, and earnestly de-
sirous of establishing a practice, and who, if his time
were not fully occupied, would naturally wish that
the neighbors would think that such were the case,
deliberately devotes some hours on I know not how
many days to driving a young lady into the surround-
ing country, it may be supposed that he is really in
love with her. Moreover, judging from Janet's pres-
ent mood, this doctor's attentions were not without
encouragement.
I went home, I considered the state of affairs, I ran
my fingers through my hair, I gazed steadfastly upon
the floor. Suddenly I rose. I had had an inspiration.
I would give the shadrach to Dr. Gilbert!
I went immediately to the doctor's office, and found
him there. He, too, was not in a very good humor.
"I have had two old ladies here nearly all the after-
noon, and they have bored me to death," he said. "I
could not get rid of them, because I found they had
made an appointment with each other to visit me
to-day and talk over a hospital plan which I proposed
some time ago, and which is really very important to
me, but I wish they had chosen some other time to
come here. What is that thing?"
"That is a bit of shadrach," I said, "made into a
paper-weight." And then I proceeded to explain
290


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
what shadrach is, and what peculiar properties it
must possess to resist the power of heat, which melts
other metal apparently of the same class. I added
that I thought it might be interesting to analyze a
bit of it and discover what fire-proof constituents it
possessed.
"I should like to do that," said the doctor, atten-
tively turning over the shadrach in his hand. "Can
I take off a piece of it?"
"I will give it to you," said I, "and you can make
what use of it you please. If you do analyze it, I
shall be very glad indeed to hear the results of your
investigations."
The doctor demurred a little at taking the paper-
weight with such a pretty silver ring around it, but I
assured him that the cost of the whole affair was tri-
fling, and I should be gratified if he would take it.
He accepted the gift, and was thanking me, when a
patient arrived, and I departed.
I really had no right to give away this paper-weight,
which, in fact, belonged to Mildred, but there are
times when a man must keep his eyes on the chief
good, and not think too much about other things.
Besides, it was evident that Mildred did not care in
the least for the bit of metal, and she had virtually
given it to me.
There was another point which I took into consid-
eration. It might be that the shadrach might simply
cool Dr. Gilbert's feelings toward me, and that would
be neither pleasant nor advantageous. If I could have
managed matters so that Janet could have given it to
him, it would have been all right. But now all that
I could do was to wait and see what would happen.
291


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
If only the thing would cool the doctor in a general
way, that would help. He might then give more
thought to his practice and his hospital ladies, an
let other people take Janet driving.
About a week after this I met the doctor. He
seemed in a hurry, but I stopped him. I had a curi-
osity to know if he had analyzed the shadrach, and
asked him about it.
"No," said he, "I haven't done it. I haven't had
time. I knocked off a piece of it, and I will attend
to it when I get a chance. Good day."
Of course, if the man was busy, he could not be ex-
pected to give his mind to a trifling matter of that
sort, but I thought he need not have been so curt
about it. I stood gazing after him as he walked
rapidly down the street. Before I resumed my walk
I saw him enter the Clinton house. Things were not
going on well. The shadrach had not cooled Dr. Gil-
bert's feelings toward Janet.
But because the doctor was still warm in his atten-
tions to the girl I loved, I would not in the least relax
my attentions to her. I visited her as often as I could
find an excuse to do so. There was generally some
one else there, but Janet's disposition was of such gra-
cious expansiveness that each one felt obliged to be
satisfied with what he got, much as he may have
wished for something different.
But one morning Janet surprised me. I met her at
Mildred's house, where I had gone to borrow a book
of reference. Although I had urged her not to put
herself to so much trouble, Mildred was standing on a
little ladder looking for the book, because, she said,
she knew exactly what I wanted, and she was sure she
292


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
could find the proper volume better than I could.
Janet had been sitting in a window-seat, reading, but
when I came in she put down her book and devoted
herself to conversation with me. I was a little sorry
for this, because Mildred was very kindly engaged in
doing me a service, and I really wanted to talk to her
about the book she was looking for. Mildred showed
so much of her old manner this morning that I would
have been very sorry to have her think that I did not
appreciate her returning interest in me. Therefore,
while under other circumstances I would have been
delighted to talk to Janet, I did not wish to give her
so much of my attention then. But Janet Clinton
was a girl who insisted on people attending to her
when she wished them to do so, and having stepped
through an open door into the garden, she presently
called me to her. Of course I had to go.
"I will not keep you a minute from your fellow-
student," she said, "but I want to ask a favor of you."
And into her dark, uplifted eyes there came a look of
tender trustfulness clearer than any I had yet seen
there. "Don't you want to drive me to the rhodo-
dendron hills?" she said. "I suppose the flowers are
all gone by this time, but I have never been there,
and I should like ever so much to go."
I could not help remarking that I thought Dr. Gil-
bert was going to take her there.
"Dr. Gilbert, indeed!" she said, with a little laugh.
"He promised once, and didn't come, and the next
day he planned for it it rained. I don't think doctors
make very good escorts, anyway, for you can't tell
who is going to be sick just as you are about to start
on a trip. Besides, there is no knowing how much
293


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
botany I should have to hear, and when I go on a
pleasure drive I don't care very much about studying
things. But of course I don't want to trouble you."
"Trouble!" I exclaimed. "It will give me the
greatest delight to take you for that drive or any
other, and at whatever time you please."
"You are always so good and kind," she said, with
her dark eyes again upraised. "And now let us go in
and see if Mildred has found the book."
I spoke the truth when I said that Janet's proposi-
tion delighted me. To take a long drive with that
charming girl, and at the same time to feel that she
had chosen me as her companion, was a greater joy
than I had yet had reason to expect. But it would
have been a more satisfying joy if she had asked me
in her own house and not in Mildred's, if she had not
allowed the love which I hoped was growing up be-
tween her and me to interfere with the revival of the
old friendship between Mildred and me.
But when we returned to the library Mildred was
sitting at a table with a book before her, opened at
the passage I wanted.
"I have just found it," she said, with a smile. "Draw
up a chair, and we will look over these maps together.
I want you to show me how he travelled when he left
his ship."
"Well, if you two are going to the pole," said Janet,
with her prettiest smile, "I will go back to my novel."
She did not seem in the least to object to my geo-
graphical researches with Mildred, and if the latter
had even noticed my willingness to desert her at the
call of Janet, she did not show it. Apparently she
was as much a good comrade as she had ever been.
294


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
This state of things was gratifying in the highest de-
gree. If I could be loved by Janet and still keep
Mildred as my friend, what greater earthly joys could
I ask?
The drive with Janet was postponed by wet weather.
Day after day it rained, or the skies were heavy, and
we both agreed that it must be in the bright sunshine
that we would make this excursion. When we should
make it, and should be alone together on the rhodo-
dendron hill, I intended to open my soul to Janet.
It may seem strange to others, and at the time it
also seemed strange to me, but there was another rea-
son besides the rainy weather which prevented my
declaration of love to Janet. This was a certain ner-
vous anxiety in regard to my friendship for Mildred.
I did not in the least waver in my intention to use the
best endeavors to make the one my wife, but at the
same time I was oppressed by a certain alarm that in
carrying out this project I might act in such a way as
to wound the feelings of the other.
This disposition to consider the feelings of Mildred
became so strong that I began to think that my own
sentiments were in need of control. It was not right
that while making love to one woman I should give so
much consideration to my relations with another. The
idea struck me that in a measure I had shared the fate
of those who had thrown the Hebrew youths into the
fiery furnace. My heart had not been consumed by
the flames, but in throwing the shadrach into what I
supposed were Mildred's affections it was quite pos-
sible that I had been singed by them. At any rate,
my conscience told me that under the circumstances
my sentiments toward Mildred were too warm. In
295


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
honestly making love to Janet I ought to forget them
entirely.
It might have been a good thing, I told myself, if I
had not given away the shadrach, but kept it as a gift
from Mildred. Very soon after I reached this con-
clusion it became evident to me that Mildred was
again cooling in my direction as rapidly as the mer-
cury falls after sunset on a September day. This dis-
covery did not make my mercury fall. In fact, it
brought it for a time nearly to the boiling-point. I
could not imagine what had happened. I almost neg-
lected Janet, so anxious was I to know what had made
this change in Mildred.
Weeks passed on, and I discovered nothing, except
that Mildred had now become more than indifferent
to me. She allowed me to see that my companionship
did not give her pleasure.
Janet had her drive to the rhododendron hills, but
she took it with Dr. Gilbert and not with me. When
I heard of this it pained me, though I could not help
admitting that I deserved the punishment. But my
surprise was almost as great as my pain, for Janet had
recently given me reason to believe that she had a
very small opinion of the young doctor. In fact, she
had criticised him so severely that I had been obliged
to speak in his defence. I now found myself in a most
doleful quandary, and there was only one thing of
which I could be certain: I needed cooling toward
Mildred if I still allowed myself to hope to marry
Janet.
One afternoon I was talking to Mr. Bronce in his
library, when, glancing toward the table used by his
daughter for writing purposes, I was astounded to see,
296


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
lying on a little pile of letters, the Christmas shadrach.
As soon as I could get an opportunity I took it in my
hand and eagerly examined it. I had not been mis-
taken. It was the paper-weight I had given Mildred.
There was the silver band around it, and there was
the place where a little piece had been knocked off by
the doctor. Mildred was not at home, but I deter-
mined that I would wait and see her. I would dine
with the Bronces, I would spend the evening, I would
stay all night-I would not leave the house until I had
had this mystery explained. She returned in about
half an hour, and greeted me in the somewhat stiff
manner she had adopted of late. But when she no-
ticed my perturbed expression and saw that I held
the shadrach in my hand, she took a seat by the table,
where for some time I had been waiting for her, alone.
"I suppose you want to ask me about that paper-
weight," she remarked.
"Indeed I do," I replied. "How in the world did
you happen to get it again?"
"You may well
"Again?" she repeated satirically.
say that. I will explain it to you. Some little time
ago I called on Janet Clinton, and on her writing-desk
I saw that paper-weight. I remembered it perfectly.
It was the one you gave me last Christmas, and after-
ward borrowed of me, saying that you wanted to ana-
lyze it, or something of the sort. I had never used it
very much, and of course was willing that you should
take it and make experiments with it if you wanted
to, but I must say that the sight of it on Janet Clin-
ton's desk both shocked and angered me. I asked her
where she got it, and she told me a gentleman had
given it to her. I did not need to waste any words in
297


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
inquiring who this gentleman was, but I determined
that she should not rest under a mistake in regard to
its proper ownership, and told her plainly that the
person who had given it to her had previously given
it to me—that it was mine, and he had no right to give
it to any one else. 'Oh, if that is the case,' she ex-
claimed, 'take it, I beg of you. I don't care for it,
and, what is more, I don't care any more for the man
who gave it to me than I do for the thing itself.' So
I took it and brought it home with me. Now you
know how I happened to have it again."
For a moment I made no answer.
Then I asked
her how long it had been since she had received the
shadrach from Janet Clinton.
"Oh, I don't remember exactly," she said. "It was
several weeks ago."
Now I knew everything. All the mysteries of the
past were revealed to me. The young doctor, fervid
in his desire to please the woman he loved, had given
Janet this novel paper-weight. From that moment
she had begun to regard his attentions with apathy,
and finally—her nature was one which was apt to go
to extremes-to dislike him. Mildred repossessed
herself of the shadrach, which she took, not as a gift
from Janet, but as her rightful property, presented to
her by me. And this horrid little object, probably
with renewed power, had cooled, almost frozen indeed,
the sentiments of that dear girl toward me. Then,
too, had the spell been taken from Janet's inclinations,
and she had gone to the rhododendron hills with Dr.
Gilbert.
One thing was certain: I must have that shad-
rach.
298


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
"Mildred," I exclaimed, "will you not give me this
paper-weight?—give it to me for my own?”
"What do you want to do with it?" she asked sar-
castically. "Analyze it again?”
"Mildred,” said I, “I did not give it to Janet. I
gave it to Dr. Gilbert, and he must have given it to
her. I know I had no right to give it away at all, but
I did not believe that you would care. But now I
beg that you will let me have it-let me have it for
my own. I assure you solemnly I will never give it
away. It has caused trouble enough already."
"I don't exactly understand what you mean by
trouble," she said, "but take it if you want it. You
are perfectly welcome." And picking up her gloves
and hat from the table, she left me.
As I walked home my hatred of the wretched piece
of metal in my hand increased with every step. I
looked at it with disgust when I went to bed that
night, and when my glance lighted upon it the next
morning I involuntarily shrank from it as if it had
been an evil thing. Over and over again that day I
asked myself why I should keep in my possession some-
thing which would make my regard for Mildred grow
less and less, which would eventually make me care for
her not at all? The very thought of not caring for
Mildred sent a pang through my heart.
My feelings all prompted me to rid myself of what
I looked upon as a calamitous talisman, but my reason
interfered. If I still wished to marry Janet it was
my duty to welcome indifference to Mildred.
In this mood I went out to stroll, to think, to de-
cide, and that I might be ready to act on my decision
I put the shadrach into my pocket. Without exactly
299


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
intending it, I walked toward the Bronce place, and
soon found myself on the edge of a pretty pond which
lay at the foot of the garden. Here, in the shade of a
tree, there stood a bench, and on this lay a book, an
ivory paper-cutter in its leaves as marker.
I knew that Mildred had left that book on the bench.
It was her habit to come to this place to read. As she
had not taken the volume with her, it was probable
that she intended soon to return. But then the sad
thought came to me that if she saw me there she would
not return. I picked up the book. I read the pages
she had been reading. As I read I felt that I could
think the very thoughts that she thought as she read.
I was seized with a yearning to be with her, to read
with her, to think with her. Never had my soul gone
out to Mildred as at that moment, and yet, heavily
dangling in my pocket, I carried-I could not bear to
think of it. Seized by a sudden impulse, I put down
the book. I drew out the shadrach, and, tearing off the
silver band, I tossed the vile bit of metal into the pond.
"There!" I cried. "Go out of my possession, out
of my sight! You shall work no charm on me. Let
nature take its course, and let things happen as they
may." Then, relieved from the weight on my heart
and the weight in my pocket, I went home.
Nature did take its course, and in less than a fort-
night from that day the engagement of Janet and Dr.
Gilbert was announced. I had done nothing to pre-
vent this, and the news did not disturb my peace of
mind. But my relations with Mildred very much dis-
turbed it. I had hoped that, released from the baleful
influence of the shadrach, her friendly feelings toward
me would return, and my passior for her had now
300


HADRAG
THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
Bree
(retty peace
in the sta
sayas
Pket.
Centen
to read !
t was
It then th
Here she to
ead the
that in
as she
ber.
SOL
ret ber
act ber
peti
the p
Ste
hear
D
pot
ed
grown so strong that I waited and watched, as a
wrecked mariner waits and watches for the sight of a
sail, for a sign that she had so far softened toward me
that I might dare to speak to her of my love. But no
such sign appeared.
I now seldom visited the Bronce house. No one of
that family, once my best friends, seemed to care to
see me. Evidently Mildred's feelings toward me had
extended themselves to the rest of the household.
This was not surprising, for her family had long been
accustomed to think as Mildred thought.
One day I met Mr. Bronce at the post-office, and,
some other gentlemen coming up, we began to talk of
a proposed plan to introduce a system of water-works
into the village, an improvement much desired by
many of us.
"So far as I am concerned," said Mr. Bronce, "I am
not now in need of anything of the sort. Since I set
up my steam-pump I have supplied my house from
the pond at the end of my garden with all the water
we can possibly want for every purpose."
"Do you mean," asked one of the gentlemen, "that
you get your drinking-water in that way?"
"Certainly,” replied Mr. Bronce. "The basin of the
pond is kept as clean and in as good order as any res-
ervoir can be, and the water comes from an excellent,
rapid-flowing spring. I want nothing better."
A chill ran through me as I listened. The shadrach
was in that pond. Every drop of water which Mil-
dred drank, which touched her, was influenced by that
demoniacal paper-weight, which, without knowing
what I was doing, I had thus bestowed upon the whole
Bronce family.
301


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
When I went home I made diligent search for a
stone which might be about the size and weight of the
shadrach, and having repaired to a retired spot, I
practised tossing it as I had tossed the bit of metal
into the pond. In each instance I measured the dis-
tance which I had thrown the stone, and was at last
enabled to make a very fair estimate of the distance
to which I had thrown the shadrach when I had
buried it under the waters of the pond.
That night there was a half-moon, and between
eleven and twelve o'clock, when everybody in our
village might be supposed to be in bed and asleep, I
made my way over the fields to the back of the Bronce
place, taking with me a long fish-cord, with a knot in
it showing the average distance to which I had thrown
the practice stone. When I reached the pond I stood
as nearly as possible in the place by the bench from
which I had hurled the shadrach, and to this spot I
pegged one end of the cord. I was attired in an old
tennis suit, and, having removed my shoes and stock-
ings, I entered the water, holding the roll of cord in
my hand.
This I slowly unwound as I advanced to-
ward the middle of the pond, and when I reached the
knot I stopped, with the water above my waist.
I had found the bottom of the pond very smooth,
and free from weeds and mud, and I now began feeling
about with my bare feet, as I moved from side to side,
describing a small arc; but I discovered nothing more
than an occasional pebble no larger than a walnut.
Letting out some more of the cord, I advanced a
little farther into the centre of the pond, and slowly
described another arc. The water was now nearly up
to my armpits, but it was not cold, though if it had
302


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
been I do not think I should have minded it in the
ardor of my search. Suddenly I put my foot on some-
thing hard and as big as my fist, but in an instant it
moved away from under my foot; it must have been
a turtle. This occurrence made me shiver a little, but
I did not swerve from my purpose, and, loosing the
string a little more, I went farther into the pond.
The water was now nearly up to my chin, and there
was something weird, mystical, and awe-inspiring in
standing thus in the depths of this silent water, my
eyes so near its gently rippling surface, fantastically
lighted by the setting moon, and tenanted by nobody
knew what cold and slippery creatures. But from
side to side I slowly moved, reaching out with my feet
in every direction, hoping to touch the thing for which
I sought.
Suddenly I set my right foot upon something hard
and irregular. Nervously I felt it with my toes. I
patted it with my bare sole. It was as big as the
shadrach. It felt like the shadrach. In a few mo-
ments I was almost convinced that the direful paper-
weight was beneath my foot.
Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I stooped
down into the water and groped on the bottom with
my hands. In some way I had moved while stooping,
and at first I could find nothing. A sensation of dread
came over me as I felt myself in the midst of the dark,
solemn water,-around me, above me, everywhere,-
almost suffocated, and apparently deserted even by
the shadrach. But just as I felt that I could hold my
breath no longer, my fingers touched the thing that
had been under my foot, and, clutching it, I rose and
thrust my head out of the water. I could do nothing
―――――
303


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
until I had taken two or three long breaths; then,
holding up the object in my hand to the light of the
expiring moon, I saw that it was like the shadrach-so
like, indeed, that I felt that it must be it.
Turning, I made my way out of the water as rapidly
as possible, and dropping on my knees on the ground,
I tremblingly lighted the lantern which I had left on
the bench, and turned its light on the thing I had
found. There must be no mistake. If this was not
the shadrach I would go in again.
necessity for reëntering the pond.
rach.
But there was no
It was the shad-
With the extinguished lantern in one hand and the
lump of mineral evil in the other, I hurried home.
My wet clothes were sticky and chilly in the night
air. Several times, in my haste, I stumbled over clods
and briers, and my shoes, which I had not taken time
to tie, flopped up and down as I ran. But I cared for
none of these discomforts. The shadrach was in my
power.
Crossing a wide field, I heard, not far away, the
tramping of hoofs, as of a horseman approaching at
full speed. I stopped and looked in the direction of
the sound. My eyes had now become so accustomed
to the dim light that I could distinguish objects some-
what plainly, and I quickly perceived that the animal
that was galloping toward me was a bull. I well knew
what bull it was. This was Squire Starling's pasture-
field, and that was his great Alderney bull, Ramping
Sir John of Ramapo II.
I was well acquainted with that bull, renowned
throughout the neighborhood for his savage temper
and his noble pedigree-son of Ramping Sir John of
304


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
Ramapo II, whose sire was the Great Rodolphin, son of
Prince Maximus of Granby, one of whose daughters
averaged eighteen pounds of butter a week, and who,
himself, had killed two men.
The bull, who had not perceived me when I crossed
the field before, for I had then made my way with as
little noise as possible, was now bent on punishing my
intrusion upon his domains, and bellowed as he came
on. I was in a position of great danger. With my
flopping shoes it was impossible to escape by flight.
I must stand and defend myself. I turned and faced
the furious creature, who was not twenty feet distant,
and then, with all my strength, I hurled the shadrach,
which I held in my right hand, directly at his shaggy
forehead. My ability to project a missile was con-
siderable, for I had held, with credit, the position of
pitcher in a base-ball nine, and as the shadrach struck
the bull's head with a great thud, he stopped as if he
had suddenly run against a wall.
I do not know that actual and violent contact with
the physical organism of a recipient accelerates the
influence of a shadrach upon the mental organism of
said recipient, but I do know that the contact of my
projectile with that bull's skull instantly cooled the
animal's fury. For a few moments he stood and looked
at me, and then his interest in me as a man and tres-
passer appeared to fade away, and moving slowly from
me, Ramping Sir John of Ramapo II began to crop
the grass.
I did not stop to look for the shadrach. I con-
sidered it safely disposed of. So long as Squire Star-
ling used that field for a pasture, connoisseurs in
mineral fragments would not be apt to wander through
305


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
it, and when it should be ploughed, the shadrach, to
ordinary eyes no more than a common stone, would be
buried beneath the sod. I awoke the next morning re-
freshed and happy, and none the worse for my wet walk.
"Now," I said to myself, "nature shall truly have
her own way. If the uncanny comes into my life and
that of those I love, it shall not be brought in by me.”
About a week after this I dined with the Bronce
family. They were very cordial, and it seemed to me
the most natural thing in the world to be sitting at
their table. After dinner Mildred and I walked to-
gether in the garden. It was a charming evening,
and we sat down on the bench by the edge of the
pond. I spoke to her of some passages in the book I
had once seen there.
"Oh, have you read that?" she asked with interest.
"I have seen only two pages of it," I said, "and
those I read in the volume you left on this bench, with
a paper-cutter in it for a marker. I long to read more
and talk with you of what I have read."
"Why, then, didn't you wait? You might have
known that I would come back."
I did not tell her that I knew that because I was
there she would not have come. But before I left the
bench I discovered that hereafter, wherever I might
be, she was willing to come and to stay.
EARLY in the next spring Mildred and I were mar-
ried, and on our wedding trip we passed through a
mining district in the mountains. Here we visited one
of the great iron-works, and were both much interested
in witnessing the wonderful power of man, air, and fire
over the stubborn king of metals.
1
J
306


THE CHRISTMAS SHADRACH
"What is this substance?" asked Mildred of one of
the officials who was conducting us through the works.
"That," said the man, "is what we call shad—”
"My dear," I cried, "we must hurry away this in-
stant or we shall lose the train. Come, quick; there
is not a moment for delay." And with a word of
thanks to the guide, I seized her hand and led her,
almost running, into the open air.
Mildred was amazed.
"Never before," she exclaimed, "have I seen you in
such a hurry! I thought the train we decided to take
did not leave for at least an hour."
"I have changed my mind," I said, "and think it
will be a great deal better for us to take the one which
leaves in ten minutes."
307





THE BISHOP'S GHOST AND
THE PRINTER'S BABY


.


THE BISHOP'S GHOST AND
THE PRINTER'S BABY
AR
ROUND the walls of a certain old church there
stood many tombs, and these had been there so
long that the plaster with which their lids were fastened
down had dried and crumbled so that in most of them
there were long cracks under their lids, and out of
these the ghosts of the people who had been buried in
the tombs were in the habit of escaping at night.
This had been going on for a long time, and, at the
period of our story, the tombs were in such bad repair
that every night the body of the church was so filled
with ghosts that before daylight one of the sacristans
was obliged to come into the church and sprinkle holy
water everywhere. This was done to clear the church
of ghosts before the first service began, and who does
not know that if a ghost is sprinkled with holy water
it shrivels up! This first service was attended almost
exclusively by printers on their way home from their
nightly labors on the journals of the town.
The tomb which had the largest crack under its lid
belonged to a bishop who had died more than a hun-
dred years before, and who had a great reputation for
sanctity-so much so, indeed, that people had been
in the habit of picking little pieces of plaster from
311


THE BISHOP'S GHOST
under the lid of his tomb and carrying them away as
holy relics, to prevent disease and accidents.
This tomb was more imposing than the others, and
stood upon a pedestal, so that the crack beneath its lid
was quite plain to view, and remarks had been made
about having it repaired.
Very early one morning, before it was time for the
first service, there came into the church a poor mason.
His wife had recently recovered from a severe sick-
ness, and he was desirous of making an offering to the
church. But having no money to spare, he had deter-
mined that he would repair the bishop's tomb, and he
consequently came to do this before his regular hours
of work began.
All the ghosts were out of their tombs at the time,
but they were gathered in the other end of the church,
and the mason did not see them, nor did they notice
him, and he immediately went to work. He had
brought some plaster and a trowel, and it was not long
before the crack under the lid of the tomb was en-
tirely filled up, and the plaster made as smooth and
neat as when the tomb was new.
When his work was finished, the mason left the
church by the little side door which had given him
entrance.
Not ten minutes afterwards the sacristan came in to
sprinkle the church with holy water. Instantly the
ghosts began to scatter right and left, and to slip into
their tombs as quickly as possible; but when the ghost
of the good bishop reached its tomb it found it im-
possible to get in. It went around and around it, but
nowhere could it find the least little chink by which
it could enter. The sacristan was walking along the
i
312


AND THE PRINTER'S BABY
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other side of the church, scattering holy water, and in
great trepidation the bishop's ghost hastened from
tomb to tomb, hoping to find one which was unoccu-
pied, into which it could slip before the sprinkling
began on that side of the church. It soon came to
one which it thought might be unoccupied, but it
discovered, to its consternation, that it was occupied
by the ghost of a young girl who had died of love.
"Alas! alas!" exclaimed the bishop's ghost. "How
unlucky! Who would have supposed this to be your
tomb?"
"It is not really my tomb," said the ghost of the
young girl. "It is the tomb of Sir Geoffrey of the
Marle, who was killed in battle nigh two centuries ago.
I was told that it had been empty for a long time, for
his ghost has gone to Castle Marle. Not long ago I
came into the church, and finding this tomb unoccu-
pied, I settled here."
"Ah me!" said the bishop's ghost, "the sacristan
will soon be around here with holy water. Could not
you get out and go to your own tomb? Where is
that?"
"Alas, good father," said the ghost of the young
girl, "I have no tomb. I was buried plainly in the
ground, and I do not know that I could find the place
again. But I have no right to keep you out of this
tomb, good father. It is as much yours as it is mine,
so I will come out and let you enter. Truly, you are
in great danger. As for me, it doesn't matter very
much whether I am sprinkled or not."
So the ghost of the young girl slipped out of Sir
Geoffrey's tomb, and the bishop's ghost slipped in, but
not a minute before the sacristan had reached the
Auto Watt A
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313


THE BISHOP'S GHOST
place. The ghost of the young girl flitted from one
pillar to another until it came near the door, and there
it paused, thinking what it should do next. Even if
it could find the grave from which it had come, it did
not want to go back to such a place. It liked churches
better.
Soon the printers began to come in to the early
morning service. One of them was very sad, and there
were tears in his eyes. He was a young man, not long
married, and his child, a baby girl, was so sick that
he scarcely expected to find it alive when he should
reach home that morning.
The ghost of the young girl was attracted by the
sorrowful printer, and when the service was over, and
he had left the church, it followed him, keeping itself
unseen. The printer found his wife in tears. The
poor little baby was very low. It lay upon the bed,
its eyes shut, its face pale and pinched, gasping for
breath.
The mother was obliged to leave the room for a few
moments to attend to some household affair, and her
husband followed to comfort her, and when they were
gone the ghost of the young girl approached the bed
and looked down on the little baby. It was nearer
death than its parents supposed, and scarcely had they
gone before it drew its last breath.
The ghost of the young girl bowed its head. It was
filled with pity and sympathy for the printer and his
wife. In an instant, however, it was seized with an
idea, and the next instant it had acted upon it.
Scarcely had the spirit of the little baby left its body
than the spirit of the young girl entered it.
314


OST
AND THE PRINTER'S BABY
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Now a gentle warmth suffused the form of the little
child, a natural color came into its cheeks, it breathed
quietly and regularly, and when the printer and his
wife came back they found their baby in a healthful
sleep. As they stood amazed at the change in the
countenance of the child, it opened its eyes and smiled
upon them.
"The crisis is past!" cried the mother. "She is
saved. And it is all because you stopped at the church
instead of hurrying home, as you wished to do." The
ghost of the young girl knew that this was true, and
the baby smiled again.
It was eighteen years later, and the printer's baby
had grown into a beautiful young woman. From her
early childhood she had been fond of visiting the
church, and would spend hours among the tombs,
reading the inscriptions, and sometimes sitting by
them, especially by the tomb of Sir Geoffrey of the
Marle. There, when there was nobody by, she used to
talk with the bishop's ghost.
Late one afternoon she came to the tomb with a
happy smile on her face. "Holy father," she said,
speaking softly through the crack, "are you not tired
of staying so long in this tomb which is not your
own?"
"Truly I am, daughter," said the bishop's ghost.
"But I have no right to complain. I never come
back here in the early morning without a feeling of
the warmest gratitude to you for having given me a
place of refuge. My greatest trouble is caused by the
fear that the ghost of Sir Geoffrey of the Marle may
some time choose to return. In that case I must give
315


THE BISHOP'S GHOST
up to him his tomb. And then, where, oh, where
shall I go?"
"Holy father," whispered the girl, "do not trouble
yourself; you shall have your own tomb again, and
need fear no one."
"How is that?" exclaimed the bishop's ghost.
"Tell me quickly, daughter."
"This is the way of it," replied the young girl.
"When the mason plastered up the crack under the
lid of your tomb he seems to have been very careful
about the front part of it, but he did not take much
pains with the back, where his work was not likely to
be seen, so that there the plaster has crumbled and
loosened very much, and with a long pin from my hair
I have picked out ever so much of it, and now there
is a great crack at the back of the tomb, where you
can go in and come out just as easily as you ever did.
As soon as night shall fall you can leave this tomb
and
go into your own."
The bishop's ghost could scarcely speak for thankful
emotions, and the happy young girl went home to the
house of her father, now a prosperous man, and the
head printer of the town.
The next evening the young girl went to the church
and hurried to the bishop's tomb. Therein she found
'the bishop's ghost, happy and content.
Sitting on a stone projection at the back of the tomb,
she had a long conversation with the bishop's ghost,
which, in gratitude for what she had done, gave her
all manner of good advice and counsel. "Above all
things, my dear daughter," said the bishop's ghost,
"do not repeat your first great mistake. Promise me
that you will not die of love."
316


AND THE PRINTER'S BABY
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The young girl smiled. "Fear not, good father,"
she replied. "When I died of love I was, in body and
soul, but eighteen years old, and knew no better.
Now, although my body is but eighteen, my soul is
thirty-six. Fear not; never again shall I die of love."
•
"
·
8
317





THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE
EXISTENCES


t


THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELATIVE
EXISTENCES
IN
Na certain summer, not long gone, my friend Bent-
ley and I found ourselves in a little hamlet which
overlooked a placid valley, through which a river
gently moved, winding its way through green stretches
until it turned the end of a line of low hills and was
lost to view. Beyond this river, far away, but visible
from the door of the cottage where we dwelt, there
lay a city. Through the mists which floated over the
valley we could see the outlines of steeples and tall
roofs, and buildings of a character which indicated
thrift and business stretched themselves down to the
opposite edge of the river. The more distant parts of
the city, evidently a small one, lost themselves in the
hazy summer atmosphere.
Bentley was young, fair-haired, and a poet. I was
a philosopher, or trying to be one. We were good
friends, and had come down into this peaceful region
to work together. Although we had fled from the
bustle and distractions of the town, the appearance in
this rural region of a city, which, so far as we could
observe, exerted no influence on the quiet character
of the valley in which it lay, aroused our interest.
No craft plied up and down the river; there were no
?
321


THE PHILOSOPHY OF
bridges from shore to shore; there were none of those
scattered and half-squalid habitations which generally
are found on the outskirts of a city; there came to us
no distant sound of bells, and not the smallest wreath
of smoke rose from any of the buildings.
In answer to our inquiries, our landlord told us that
the city over the river had been built by one man,
who had a great deal more money than common sense.
"It is not as big a town as you would think,
sirs," he said, "because the general mistiness of
things in this valley makes them look larger than
they are. Those hills, for instance, when you get
to them, are not as high as they look to be from
here. But the town is big enough, and a good deal
too big, for it ruined its builder and owner, who, when
he came to die, had not money enough left to put up
a decent tombstone at the head of his grave. He had
a queer idea that he would like to have his town all
finished before anybody lived in it, and so he kept on
working and spending money year after year and year
after year until the city was done and he had not a
cent left. During all the time that the place was
building hundreds of people came to him to buy houses
or to rent them, but he would not listen to anything
of the kind. No one must live in his town until it
was all done. Even his workmen were obliged to go
away at night to lodge. It is a town, sirs, I am told,
in which nobody has slept for even a night. There
are streets there, and places of business, and churches,
and public halls, and everything that a town full of
inhabitants could need, but it is all empty and de-
serted, and has been so as far back as I can remember,
and I came to this region when I was a little boy."
322


RELATIVE EXISTENCES
"And is there no one to guard the place?" we asked,
-"no one to protect it from wandering vagrants who
might choose to take possession of the buildings?"
"There are not many vagrants in this part of the
country," he said, "and if there were, they would not
go over to that city. It is haunted."
"By what?" we asked.
"Well, sirs, I scarcely can tell you. Queer beings
that are not flesh and blood, and that is all I know
about it. A good many people living hereabouts have
visited that place once in their lives, but I know of
no one who has gone there a second time."
"And travellers," I said,—“are they not excited by
curiosity to explore that strange uninhabited city?"
"Oh, yes," our host replied. "Almost all visitors to
the valley go over to that queer city-generally in
small parties, for it is not a place in which one wishes
to walk about alone. Sometimes they see things, and
sometimes they don't. But I never knew any man or
woman to show a fancy for living there, although it is
a very good town."
This was said at supper-time, and as it was the
period of full moon, Bentley and I decided that we
would visit the haunted city that evening. Our host
endeavored to dissuade us, saying that no one ever
went over there at night. But as we were not to be
deterred, he told us where we would find his small
boat tied to a stake on the river-bank. We soon
crossed the river, and landed at a broad but low stone
pier, at the land end of which a line of tall grasses
waved in the gentle night wind as if they were senti-
nels warning us from entering the silent city. We
pushed through these, and walked up a street fairly
323


THE PHILOSOPHY OF
wide, and so well paved that we noticed none of the
weeds and other growths which generally denote de-
sertion or little use. By the bright light of the moon
we could see that the architecture was simple, and of
a character highly gratifying to the eye. All the
buildings were of stone and of good size. We were
greatly excited and interested, and proposed to con-
tinue our walks until the moon should set, and to
return on the following morning-"to live here,
perhaps," said Bentley. "What could be so romantic
and yet so real? What could conduce better to the
marriage of verse and philosophy?" But as he said
this we saw around the corner of a cross-street some
forms as of people hurrying away.
"The spectres," said my companion, laying his hand
on my arm.
"Vagrants, more likely," I answered, "who have
taken advantage of the superstition of the region to
appropriate this comfort and beauty to themselves."
"If that be so," said Bentley, "we must have a care
for our lives."
We proceeded cautiously, and soon saw other forms
fleeing before us and disappearing, as we supposed,
around corners and into houses. And now suddenly
finding ourselves upon the edge of a wide, open public
square, we saw in the dim light-for a tall steeple
obscured the moon-the forms of vehicles, horses, and
men moving here and there. But before, in our aston-
ishment, we could say a word one to the other, the
moon moved past the steeple, and in its bright light
we could see none of the signs of life and traffic which
had just astonished us.
Timidly, with hearts beating fast, but with not one
324


RELATIVE EXISTENCES
thought of turning back, nor any fear of vagrants,-
for we were now sure that what we had seen was not
flesh and blood, and therefore harmless,—we crossed
the open space and entered a street down which the
moon shone clearly. Here and there we saw dim
figures, which quickly disappeared; but approaching
a low stone balcony in front of one of the houses, we
were surprised to see, sitting thereon and leaning over
a book which lay open upon the top of the carved
parapet, the figure of a woman who did not appear to
notice us.
――――
"That is a real person," whispered Bentley, "and
she does not see us."
"No," I replied, "it is like the others. Let us go
near it."
We drew near to the balcony and stood before it.
At this the figure raised its head and looked at us.
It was beautiful, it was young, but its substance seemed
to be of an ethereal quality which we had never seen
or known of. With its full, soft eyes fixed upon us, it
spoke.
"Why are you here?" it asked. "I have said to
myself that the next time I saw any of you I would
ask you why you come to trouble us. Cannot you live
content in your own realms and spheres, knowing, as
you must know, how timid we are, and how you
frighten us and make us unhappy? In all this city
there is, I believe, not one of us except myself who
does not flee and hide from you whenever you cruelly
come here. Even I would do that, had not I declared
to myself that I would see you and speak to you, and
endeavor to prevail upon you to leave us in peace."
The clear, frank tones of the speaker gave me
325


THE PHILOSOPHY OF
courage. "We are two men," I answered, "strangers
in this region, and living for the time in the beautiful
country on the other side of the river. Having heard
of this quiet city, we have come to see it for ourselves.
We had supposed it to be uninhabited, but now that
we find that this is not the case, we would assure you
from our hearts that we do not wish to disturb or
annoy any one who lives here. We simply came as
honest travellers to view the city."
The figure now seated herself again, and as her
countenance was nearer to us, we could see that it was
filled with pensive thought. For a moment she looked
at us without speaking. "Men!" she said.
"And so
I have been right. For a long time I have believed
that the beings who sometimes come here, filling us
with dread and awe, are men."
"And you," I exclaimed,-"who are you, and who
are these forms that we have seen, these strange in-
habitants of this city?"
She gently smiled as she answered: "We are the
ghosts of the future. We are the people who are to
live in this city generations hence. But all of us do
not know that, principally because we do not think
about it and study about it enough to know it. And
it is generally believed that the men and women who
sometimes come here are ghosts who haunt the place."
"And that is why you are terrified and flee from
us?" I exclaimed. "You think we are ghosts from
another world?"
"Yes," she replied, "that is what is thought, and
what I used to think."
"And you," I asked, "are spirits of human beings
yet to be?"
A Aa H
326


OF
RELATIVE EXISTENCES
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"Yes," she answered. "But not for a long time.
Generations of men-I know not how many-must
pass away before we are men and women."
"Heavens!" exclaimed Bentley, clasping his hands
and raising his eyes to the sky, "I shall be a spirit
before you are a woman.”
"Perhaps," she said again, with a sweet smile
upon her face, "you may live to be very, very
old."
But Bentley shook his head. This did not console
him. For some minutes I stood in contemplation,
gazing upon the stone pavement beneath my feet.
"And this," I ejaculated, "is a city inhabited by the
ghosts of the future, who believe men and women to
be phantoms and spectres?"
She bowed her head.
"But how is it," I asked, "that you discovered that
you are spirits and we mortal men?"
"There are so few of us who think of such things,"
she answered, "so few who study, ponder, and reflect.
I am fond of study, and I love philosophy, and from
the reading of many books I have learned much.
From the book which I have here I have learned
most, and from its teachings I have gradually come to
the belief, which you tell me is the true one, that we
are spirits and you men."
"And what book is that?” I asked.
"It is "The Philosophy of Relative Existences,' by
Rupert Vance."
"Ye gods!" I exclaimed, springing upon the bal-
cony, "that is my book, and I am Rupert Vance." I
stepped toward the volume to seize it, but she raised
her hand.
327


THE PHILOSOPHY OF
"You cannot touch it," she said. "It is the ghost
of a book. And did you write it?"
"Write it? No," I said, "I am writing it. It is
not yet finished."
"But here it is," she said, turning over the last
pages. "As a spirit book it is finished. It is very
successful. It is held in high estimation by intelligent
thinkers. It is a standard work."
I stood trembling with emotion. "High estima-
tion!" I said. "A standard work!"
"Oh, yes," she replied with animation, "and it well
deserves its great success, especially in its conclusion.
I have read it twice."
"But let me see these concluding pages!" I ex-
claimed. "Let me look upon what I am to write."
She smiled and shook her head, and closed the book.
"I would like to do that," she said, "but if you are
really a man you must not know what you are going
to do."
"Oh, tell me, tell me," cried Bentley, from below,
"do you know a book called 'Stellar Studies,' by
Arthur Bentley? It is a book of poems."
The figure gazed at him. "No," it said presently,
"I never heard of it."
I stood trembling. Had the youthful figure before
me been flesh and blood, had the book been a real one,
I would have torn it from her.
"O wise and lovely being!" I exclaimed, falling on
my knees before her, "be also benign and generous.
Let me but see the last page of my book. If I have
been of benefit to your world, more than all, if I have
been of benefit to you, let me see, I implore you-let
me see how it is that I have done it."
328


RELATIVE EXISTENCES
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She rose with the book in her hand. "You have
only to wait until you have done it," she said, "and
then you will know all that you could see here." I
started to my feet, and stood alone upon the balcony.
"I AM Sorry," said Bentley, as we walked toward
the pier where we had left our boat, "that we talked
only to that ghost girl, and that the other spirits were
all afraid of us. Persons whose souls are choked up
with philosophy are not apt to care much for poetry.
And even if my book is to be widely known, it is easy
to see that she may not have heard of it."
I walked triumphant. The moon, almost touching
the horizon, beamed like red gold. "My dear friend,”
said I, "I have always told you that you should put
more philosophy into your poetry. That would make
it live."
"And I have always told you," said he, "that you
should not put so much poetry into your philosophy.
It misleads people."
"It didn't mislead that ghost girl," said I.
"How do you know?" said Bentley. "Perhaps she
is wrong, and the other inhabitants of the city are
right, and we may be the ghosts, after all. Such things,
you know, are only relative. Anyway," he continued,
after a little pause, "I wish I knew that those ghosts
were now reading the poem which I am going to begin
to-morrow."
329


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