g^wudiui^ ui iJoho. WELVE STORIES FOR CHILDREN AND THEIR FRIENDS. EDITED BY MARY HELEN CAMPBELL. 'And without a parable spake he not unto them."— St. Matthew xii. ,?)• ptonfrtHl: WILLIAM I) K VSl) A l.f: A; CO. 1884. Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year 1884. by Mary Helen Campbell, in tiio Office of the Minister of Agriculture. Printkd by Gazette Printing Company, Montreal. In LOVING MEMORY OF WHOSE Service is Perfect In the Church Above. PREFACE. Yolio is an island in one of the small northern lakes of Ontario, only to be found depicted on local charts and un- mentioned, so far as I know, in an^ gazetteer. Yet it has a certain quiet celebrity of its own which it is far from being my desire to make iniblic. Life on the island is a return to first principles, a child life in the best and wisest sense. Children form a large element in its limited population and in that of the adjoining islands. Those who are no longer children in years, even to grandsires and granddames, are still such in heart, and find thoir chief happiness in the children's joys. 'I'he first day of the week is there the holy of the Lord and honourable, but it is also a delight. At the hour appointed for morning service, cottages and tents send forth their occupants while, in all directions, from neigh- bouring islets and from settlers' clearings upon the mainland, boats large and small bring their quota of worshippers into the quiet harbour. The chapel in which they meet is one of nature's building, a pleasant hollow among mossy rocks and boulders, overshaded by spreading maples and hemlocks. Saucy squirrels have been known to gambol and chatter among the branches over the preacher's head, stray bees and beetles to cause a temporary flutter in the choir, and the silly chuckle or mournful wail of the loon to excite the in- dignation of the otherwise well-behaved dogs. But gener- ally all nature is in harmony with the spirit of the day and helpful to devotion. The children are there expectant. They are waiting for the new story, a story they can remera- HE FACE. ber and tell and give the meaning of and lay up in their hearts for many days. Woe to the reverend divine, however pious, learned, and elotjuent he may be, if he disappoint them. With that congregation his reputation as a preacher is gone forever. From among the sermons which the children like and which their elder brothers and sisters, their fathers and mothers remember also, I have chosen twelve for publica- tion. Some of them have been delivered more than once to varying audiences in the chapel of Voho, and, unless by special retiuest as sometimes happens, cannot be repeated there. But the young people wish to have them in a book of their own, and perhaps there are other boys and girls in the world to whom the stories may give pleasure and do good. My critical young friends who have heard them spoken extempore will doubtless detect many variations from the original in form of expression, but in their main features they will find the narratives unchanged. It is not my duty to provoke or to disarm general criticism of the productions of others which it has been my office simply to collect and arrange. They pleased and profited the children and me and will do the same, I trust, to those who are like- minded. THE EDITOR. Montreal, Christmas 1884. CONTENTS. PAOK. I. The Story OF Orion 3 A Greek Myth. TI. The King who had Horse's Ears 17 An Irish Tradition. III. The Beautiful House 37 An Egyptian Story. IV. The Indian Girl and the Flowers 55 A Wyandot Fable. V. Sir Aymbr's Service for God 77 A French Romance. VI. The Fugitive of the South Seas loi A Polynesian Epic. VII. Balder 127 A Norse Edda. VIII. The Treasure Seeker 149 A Babylonian Tale. IX. The Good Lord of the Giant Mountains 179 A Sclavonic Allegory. X. The Prince who gave up a Throne 203 An Indian Legend. XI, The Peruvian Brothers 227 A Peruvian Narrative. XJI. The Island Kingdom 249 A Jewish Parable. I. I. But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteous- ness arise with healing in his wings." — Malachi, iv. 2. When looking up some bright winter evening into our clear northern sky, you have seen three large stars in a perfect line, and, hanging from them as it were, a long hazy cluster Jike a comet's tail. These are the belt and sword of Orion, the mighty hunter. You can trace his form as it is marked hy other stars above and below the girdle, and farther down in the southern heavens are the hunter's dogs, the greater and the less, that follow him in the nightly chase. Who was Orion ? Ages ago, the story tells us, when Eu- rope was a wilderness and no human foot trod the soil of this western world, he came, a giant and a slayer of wild beasts, to the beautiful island of Chios, to the court of its wise king, Oenopion. He came to one of the loveliest spots in the old world, the fairest isle in the sparkling ^gean sea, a little land of green pastures and flowing waters, of vine- clad hills and snow-capped mountains, of waving cornfields and evergreen glades. Such grapes as flourished there grew nowhere else in the world ; citrons and almonds, pomegra- nates and palms, with many another tree which was pleasant to the eye and whose fruit was good for food, stocked its orchards, or, untended by man, cheered the traveller by the wayside; and from its mountain quarries came the pure white Chian marble fit for the palace of the greatest king. 4 THE STORY OF ORION. In such a paradise th'.re was everything to make Orion happy. Good king Oenopion loved the giant hunter and, as the greatest token of his affection, gave him for wife his daughter Merope. For a time Orion acted well, but the time was very brief. Evil thoughts came into his mind, proud feelings swelled his heart, and wicked deeds soon fol- lowed them. He rebelled against the king and ill-treated his daughter ; he destroyed the fertile plains which it was his duty to protect, and made the peaceful, happy reign a time of strife and wretchedness. Oenopion was grieved. He would fain have forgiven the rebel, but without repentance forgiveness could only lead to greater sins on the part of Orion and greater injury to the king's land and people. So with a sad heart the good monarch banished the giant from court and city, from field and orchard, away to the dreary seashore, there to wait until some passing ship should call to take him to a far off country. So all unarmed Orion sat down upon the yellow sands, not daring to return to the palace or even to enter the groves and meadows that skirted the beach, for he knew that the king's trusty soldiers barred the way with their weapons of death. And as he sat there he saw many ships come that way. He knew them well, those ships of the Carian pirates that he had often fought against in Oenopion's service with his giant strength ; and the pirates knew him too, and cried : " It is Orion." But he beckoned to them to land, and, as they came near, told them that the king's enemies were now his friends and they need fear nothing. Then they left their ships and came, bringing with them leathern bags full of wine pressed from stolen Chian grapes, and sat down beside their ancient foeman. As he told his woes they gave him to drink, and, oft as he wished them to fill the cup that fired his veins, they THE STORY OF ORION. 5 filled it, till sense and memory reeled and he lay stretched upon the sands in a drunken sleep. Thereupon the pirates rejoiced and sent up a mighty shout, " Our enemy is fallen, is fallen." But the knowing ones said : " We must not leave him thus, for, when the fumes of the wine are gone, he may re- pent him and turn to the king's service and be our foe once more." So they put irons in a fire they made beside the shore, and when they were red hot they thrust them into the sleeping giant's eyes, and made haste back to their ships, not daring to look behind them. Orion awoke with the burning pain and staggered to his feet. He knew that an enemy had done this, but he could not see him. He heard the shouts, the laughter, the scorn of his boon companions of an hour ago, and in his impotent rage dashed after them into the sea, hurling great stones in the direction of their voices. Then the pirates made sail and hastened away, and Orion went back to the shore and lay there groaning in bitter agony. All the glorious summer afternoon he tossed to and fro in helpless rage and pain, and when the sun went down and the stars of heaven came forth he knew it by the evening breezes that fanned his throbbing brow and the gentle dews that fell like balm upon his sightless eyes. The morning found him still awake but quieter, a weary, suffering, broken- hearted man ; for the many-voiced birds began their songs, the sweet scents ot fresh opening fioWers were wafted to- wards him, and he felt the beams of the sun as he rose above the dark cliffs of Asia. He knew the world was full of beauty and of glory, but not for him, and the tears of the strong man who had never wept before flowed from the ach- ing eyeballs, as he thought of all that he had lost and would THE STORY OF ORION. never see again. Then came the fierce noontide heat, and the tired giant's head began to droop like the flowers in the open meadow, while fitful dreams passed through his brain, dreams of the old loveliness of by-gone happy days, of green mother earth and restless tossing sunlit sea and the great blue dome of heaven, and, ever and anon, he would awake to a sense of his misery and cry, " O wretched man that 1 am," or he would pray to One he knew not, " My sight, my lost sight ; oh, give me back my sight." So it circled round to night again, a calm, peaceful night, when all the noises of the day were hushed, and nothing broke the solemn stillness but the gentle ripple of the wave& upon the beach. Nothing else ? Yes, there was something, Orion thought, for what his eyes had lost his ears had partly gained. He seemed to hear a far distant sound as of a heavy body falling every now and then in even time. And as he hearkened it grew more and more plain to his ears, till at last he said to himself, " It is the great hammer of Vulcan's forge at Lemnos." Then he remembered looking out at night over a long, clear stretch of sea away to the northward where Lemnos lay, and seeing the great pillar of smoke which arose from it up into the clear air, and the flames that glared at the base of the pillar, or shot their red light through its gloom, and when the night was dark were the only objects visible. He could not see the flames, but he could hear the hammer rise and fall, and the sound told him that the fire was there, though to him all was darkness. A joyful hope filled Orion's breast, for he thought that he who could make the brightness of day reign in night's gloom might also give back the light that had been stolen from his eyes and the joy of which his life had been robbed. Then he arose, saying, " I am going to the light," and cast him- self intQ the sea. THE STORY OF ORION. 7 Away through the quiet waters he went, wading at first till bottom failed him, and then swimming arm over arm in eager haste and with all his giant mi^?ht. No voice was present to cheer the lonely traveller on his long sea-way, no sight of nearing land to fill his heart with hope ; nothing but the distant clang of the hammer on the great anvil and the knowledge that where the sound was, there the fire was to be found. Again and again he stopped to listen lest he should lose his course. At last his feet touch the sand. He is on land again ; but a strange misgiving fills his heart, for still, though nearer than it was, the sound that has led him is far away. Yet he hears voices joining in song and the music of well played instalments and a tinkling noise as of revellers whose golden ornaments jingle in the dance. And they call one to another, or it may be to him, to come to woody Lesbos, the home of mirth and happiness, the isle of music and of song. O poor Orion, it is not this you sought. A sorry figure the blind swimmer would make among these richly dressed, perfumed and laurel-crowned lovers of pleasure. He is almost tempted to rush in upon their revels and take revenge on them for the misery that, with- out knowing it, they mock so cruelly. But there is a lull in the music that lets the ring of the hammer sound out loud and clear, and it falls upon his ear like a voice crying " Come." His harsh, bitter laugh that had startled the dancers for a moment is changed to the voice of prayer as he hastens from the isle, and, spurning its shore from his eager feet, rises again upon the buoyant waves. . The Lesbian music is heard no more — nothing but the splash of the giant's great arms cleaving the waters on his onward course, and, keeping time with his strokes, the dis- tant hamn.er's clang. But the swimmer's strokes are tell- 8 THE STORY OF OH ION. ing now. He need not stop to listen for Vulcan's heavy blows upon the anvil. Nearer and nearer they seem to be, till at length Orion cannot hear his own motions, can hear nothing but the sound that rings in his ear, '* Come, come, come !" So he comes to the shore of Lemnos, bruising him- self as he lands on many a sharp piece of rock, and, guided still by the sound that fills all the air, staggers into the great forge that the Cyclops, giants like himself, had built in olden days for the King of Fire, Dripping with water from the sea, ragged and bruised and bleeding as he is, Vulcan takes the giant by the hand and sets him down beside the great furnace. Its generous warmth dries the soaking garments and gives back vigour to the be- numbed limbs, and, for a moment, its glorious brightness tempts Orion to cry, " I see." But darkness reigns again ; he has felt but a glow after all and has seen no man. So he kneels him down and prays : " O Vulcan, lord of fire, give me back my sight again and I am your ser- vant, your willing, grateful slave forever." But Vulcan, sad at heart and full of pity, answers : " That may not be, for I am no maker of light. The light that is given me from a higher source I use and spread abrc d amid the darkness. With it I kindle the cheerful fire that gladdens man's heart and forge the weapons wherewith he may fight the powers of evil and the tools that aid him in every work that is good. But to give light to darkened eyes is only in the power of Him that gave the light to me." Thus Orion's cup of hope was dashed to the ground. He forgot fhe genial warmth of the fire and Vulcan's kindly greeting and the smiths that left their toil to throng around him with generous words of welcome. " Was it THE STORY OF ORWiY. 9 for this," he cried, " that I left my home and braved the perils of the sea? You have deceived me, Father Vul- can, you and your blaze of light and the great hammer whose blows guided me to my disappointment. For me there is no hope. I will go back to be a terror and a curse among men, and fall at last upon Oenopion's spears." But Vulcan soothed the angry giant, saying : " Friend, I liave done you no wrong in telling you what I cannot do ; but I will not leave you thus. Are you willing to do more, to brave more, to suffer more, that you may gain your sight?" And Orion said, "There is nothing I will not do that I may get it back again." Then Vulcan cried, '' Send me Kedalion ;" and they brought a little lad, soft-voiced and gentle, with fair hair that streamed down upon his shoulders, and eyes blue as the summer's sky, and a face like those of the angels in heaven. So Vulcan took the boy and set him on Orion's knee, saying, " Be- hold your guide." Then Orion put forth his hand and touched him, but when he felt the long silken curls and the delicate form of the gentle lad, he was offended and asked if they meant to mock him by giving him such a guide. " Only trust him," answered Vulcan kindly, " and he will bring you to the Gates of Day, where He dwells, who can give light to your blind eyes." And the boy himself put his tender arms about the giant's neck and kissed him, whispering in his ear, " Only trust me and I will guide you safely, as I have often led others before." Orion's rough heart was touched. Half doubting and fearing, yet ashamed that it was so, and longing for the light, he placed the little guido upon his mighty shoulder, Saying, " I trust you ;" and away from the forge they went, Orion stepping forth with giant strides and Kedalion guiding with his clear blue eye. 10 TIIK STOR Y OF ORION. What a journey that was for these two travellers, away again through the deep sea to the Trojan shore, through the many kingdoms of Asia Minor and the land of Ararat, past the great empire of Persia and the nations of India, and beyond the very world's end, where the silk-weaving Seres dwelt I What sandy deserts they traversed, what mountain ranges they toiled over, what rivers they forded, what seas they swam ! So eager at times was Orion, that, after a long day's march when the night fell, he would not rest but still press on, for night and day were all the same to his poor eyes out of which the light had gone. And again, when the long, weary road had tired even him, he would lie down in field or jungle, by the roadside or on the shore, glad to snatch a moment's sleep and dream some happy dream of the bright day, while little Kedalion kept watch beside him. There were many trials and sufferings for the giant and his guide all along the way ; for wicked men, and men that called themselves wise, and great giants like Orion himself, mocked him and laughed at the gentle child upon his shoulder. Even by force they tried to turn the blind man back and take away his guide. Sweet voices, too, like those of the sirens that lured the sailor to his death among the rocks in the western sea, sounded often in Orion's ears, till he prayed Kedalion to stop and listen to the heavenly music. But Kedalion only bent over and placed his rosy lips close to the ear that was nearest the sound, and whispered " Will you have your sight again ?" Then Orion would press his hands on either side of his head and heave a deep sigh and run forward a long space till the music had died away. So on they went, these two, to find the Gates of Day. At last they came to a place where it was very dark, so dark that the cheery little guide said : " I cannot see to go THK STOll y OF ORION. - 1 T farther ; here we must rest, but light cometli in the morn- ing." Orion laid the boy gently in his arms and, as he sat upon the ground, pressed him lovingly to his breast, for the darkness made his wounded eyeballs to ache again and a great sorrow filled his heart, and the child was his only com- forter. .\11 the long dark night Orion sat and waited, and, for the first time since they left Vulcan's forge at Lemnos, the little guide slept i)eacefully in his embrace. Then the night mist lifted and the black clouds rolled away. Kedalion awoke with a joyful cry : " Orion, Orion, I see the Gates of Day, the golden gates in the great wall of rubies and sap- phires !" Then Orion fell upon his knees and placed his hand upon the head of the boy, saying : " Kedalion, I trust you." And so he wailed. Nor did he wait long, for soon the golden gates flew open and the bright sun came forth in his chariot of glory. His warm beams fell upon the giant's sightless eyeballs till they ached no more, and a voice came down from heaven, just such a gentle voice as that which had comforted him all the way, so that he almost thought it was Kedalion who spoke : " What wilt thou, Orion ?" The giant trembled like a little child, trembled with fear and with hope ; but the litde guide, upon whom his hand was resting, was the giant now. He never shook, but bravely bore up his friend that he might not fall. Then, while the sobs came thick and fast to choke his voice and his tears flowed down like summer rain, the blind man cried : ** Lord, that I may receive my sight." And the beams of the sun shot forth towards him like golden hands that came to bless, making a rainbow over the weeping eyes. " Receive thy sight," said the gentle voice, and with the word Orion lifted up his eyes and saw ; then fell upon his face and worshipped. No tongue of man can tell what Orion saw then ; it is I a TiiK sTon r of orios. hidden deep down in the heart. Old things were passed away ; all things had become new. It was as if he had become a babe again and been born into a new and lovelier world. Karth and sea and sky and all that was in them seemed touched with the glory that shone from the Gates of Day, so that the humblest little flower beneath his feet was fairer to his sight than the brightest jewel of Oenopion's crown or even the very stars of heaven themselves had been in the olden days. He looked for Kedalion that he might share his joy, but he was nowhere to be seen, for his work was done ; but instead of the fair haired child, a bird, and a true bird of Paradise this was, perched upon the shoulder he had left and there warbled such notes of gladness as put a new song into Orion's mouth — a full heart's song of praise. And as he sang, his face turned upwards to the light that healed him. He saw the Monarch of Day moving ever onwards in his course of blessing, and, lifting up his arms, he cried : " Lord, I have none but Thee ; I will follow Thee whithersoever Thou goest ; give me some place behind Thy chariot wheels." But a voice came from the sky : " Freely thou hast received ; freely give. Go thou and lead the blind and the lost back to the great Physician and to their Father's house." So Orion went back again with a joyous heart, seeking for the blind and the lame and the lost. And when he found them he carried them in the great strong arms of his gian', love over the sea and the river, the desert and the moim-tain, speaking all the way the brave words of cheer that little Kedalion had taught him when he was himself a poor blind man. Many a cold, sick, weary wanderer he warmed and fed and kindly tended at good Vulcan's Lemnian forge, and many a one that had need of healing he bore far off to the 77/ a; story of oitios. 13 dates of Day and with them waited patiently till the beams of the Sun of Righteousness made them whole. Then, when his work was done, he was carried away up into the blue heavens he loved so well, to shine among the brightest stars in the nightly firmament and guide the helpless sailor across the trackless sea. Perhaps you have found out already who the real Orion is, the great, strong man, whom God made with a giant will, mightier than that of the holy angels in heaven. In Eden's beautiful garden he lived, and talked there with the King of kings, who loved him and gave everything into his hand. But the giant lost faith in his God, and disobeyed Him, and was driven out of Paradise. Then came all the sins and blinded his mind and ruined his life, till it seemed Hcarce worth living, as some poor blind men tell us to-day. But God put a longing in man's heart to see again, to see Him and the beautiful world that is only beautiful in Him. And while he is longing to see God there comes to his ears the sound of the Sabbath bell, that tells of those who are happy, because they are ever singing God's praises and doing His work. He tears himself away, first from his hopeless gloom, and then from the worldly pleasures that would tempt him ; and, in the company of God's people, finds comfort and hope. But they cannot give him the light he needs : only a guide to bring him to the light. The child Kedalion is a little text to believe with all the heart, such as " They that seek me early shall find me " ; " He that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out ; " " God so loved the world that He gave His only- begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life;" " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." The giant carries the text- 14 THE STORY OF ORION. guide, not on his shoulder, like Orion, but in his heart, and with it he goes far away from the world, whether by night or by day, till he feels that God is very near. Then he kneels down to pray, and as he prays, confessing his sins and asking for his sight, the Holy Spirit comes and opens his mind to see the pardoning God, and fills his heart with the joy and gladness of a child whom his father loves. Now the old things are passed away and all things are become new. The world is full of light and happiness because it is full of God. The Christian, who once was blind but v/ho now sees, will follow the Sun of Righteousness, that came to him with healing under His wings, wherever he leads. But to do this he must do the work of God. So back into the world he goes to guide the weary wanderers in sinful paths to the light of the Father's countenance, to carry them in his heart in prayer before the throne of grace, and to tell the blind ones who cannot see God, how he, once blind like them, can behold Him more clearly than aught else in earth or heaven. And then, when his work is done, God takes him home, with them that are wise, to shine as the brightness of the firmament, and with them that turn many to righteousness, as the stars forever and ever. J I. II. $lxe pn0 xo\to Una gtorse^B %nxs. « If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."— I John, j. 9. The same story often appears in different parts of the world, and this teaches us that all nations of men, although now far apart, once dwelt so near to each other that they were able to carry away the same legends and traditions. Herodotus, the father of history, who lived more than four hundred years before the birth of Jesus Christ, and Strabo, a geographer who wrote about the time that our Saviour was born, both tell of an army that was saved from destruction by mice which came through the night and gnawed their enemies bowstrings, so that, when the battle began, the archers were not able to shoot. That same story is told to-day by the Muskogees of the Indian Territory and the Utes of Colorado in the United States, two wild Indian tribes. So the king who had horse's or ass's ears appears in the old world legends as Midas of Phrygia, in Asia Minor, and as Lavra of Ireland. It is the story of Lavra I am going to tell. There were many kings in Ireland in the old days, and each of these had his little court and army, but there was generally one greater than the others who was called king of all Ireland. At the time I speak, of, Lavra was king of all Ireland, and kept his royal court in the famous palace of Tara. He had not come to the throne without trouble, for he had enemies. But the kingdom was his by right, many friends 1 8 THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. gathered about him, and, as he had a strong army and was himself a brave bold soldier, he soon put down his foes and began his glorious reign. On the day that he was crowned he sent messengers all over the country to the courts of the kings and the castles of all the nobles, inviting the harpers who lived in them to come to the palace of Tara, where they should play before the king. And the messengers promised in Lavra's name that the harper who played the best should receive as his prize a harp and a wreath of pure gold. So four- teen days after the king was crowned the harpers came flocking to Tara, along all the royal roads, from north and south and west, followed by great crowds of noblemen on horseback and people on foot, who wished to hear them sing and play. At the end of the great hall sat the king of all Ireland upon his throne, and on either side of him, on lower seats, were the other kings, while brave soldiers and great officers of state stood on guard around them. The harpers marched into the hall in a long procession, dressed in flowing robes, and behind every one of them was a boy in a green tunic who carried his master's harp. Then came the noblemen, all richly clad, and took their places on seats along the walls, while the people staid outside and listened to the sounds of music and song that floated through the open doors and windows. So many were the harpers that three days passed before all could get a hearing, although the king and his court met three times a day in the great hall to try their skill. On the morning of the fourth day all came together again, and many a harper thought that he was going to win the precious prize. But the king's mind was troubled and confused, for neither he nor those who sat with him could tell who was the best harper of them all. While Lavra was wondering in his heart what he should THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. I9 do, there arose a noise and a shout at the lower end of the hall, and the guards called out so that the king could hear them, " Make way, make way for the harpers !" Then up the aisle came two tall figures of noble bearing, that might have been princesses of royal blood, and stood before the king. They were both beautiful, but the light-haired, meek- eyed one in the long white robe with the golden girdle had the beauty of the day, and the other in crimson raiment, whose dark locks were crowned with richly scented blossoms, wore the beauty of the night. No one asked them whence they camo, or why they came so late, but all gazed in wonder upon the strange new-comers, and waited for their voices and the sound of their harps. The king arose from his throne to greet them and give a kindly welcome, and then the one in the white robe began to play. As she struck the first few chords, the old, old harpers who had learned to play before the king's father was a baby in his cradle, bent forward their hoary heads to listen, for such a skilful easy touch they had never seen, such full rich, melting sounds they had never heard before. And when she lifted up her lovely head and sang, without casting a single glance at the harp strings that her fingers knew so well, the nobles and musicians held their very breath for fear that even a passing sigh should mar the heavenly music. Her song was of peace and purity, of goodness and truth and love; and now the tones were strong and brave and clear like the silver trumpet that calls to a holy war, and now they were soft and gentle and low like the pleadings of a lady mother with her only child. Had you been there then you would have seen a strange sight. The musician's dark com- panion hid her face that was pale with envy and lined with angry thoughts behind the tapestry hangings of the hall ; the 20 THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. nobles and soldiers withdrew their gloves of mail from their sword hills and clasped their hands before their breasts as if in prayer ; and as the king listened eagerly, his head bent forward and his cheek resting in his open palm, the tears, all unnoticed by him or by any other, came trickling d own upon his royal beard. All the morning the sweet song lasted though it seemed but a single hour, and when at last it ended in a glorious burst of praise to the blessed God who only is the true and the beautiful and the good, then all the harpers, old and young, lifted up their voices as one man and said : *' Not unto us, not unto us, but unto her, O king, let the prize be given." Now she of the crimson robe came out from behind the curtains, and with her sweetest smile and most appealing glance knelt before Lavra saying, ** Surely the good king will hear me also." The king's heart was won by her looks and words, for her fair companion had never once called him good ; and he was ashamed of the tear drops that he saw upon his beard ; and, now that the music had ceased, he began to feel hungry like common men, so he said, " We will go and dine, and afterwards this lady shall have her turn to try for the prize." Then they all marched away to the great dining hall, and the dark musician ate and drank beside the king, while the harper of the morning went cut among the common people and played and sang for them and for many of the other harpers who came to listen such sweet simple music and words as the people love. When the feast was nearly ended and Lavra and his nobles had almost forgotten what they had heard in the morning, the rival musician arose and began to play. She too knew well how to tune her harp and voice as she sang of pleasure and rest, telling of cloudless skies and summer IHE KINO WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. tl days, of beautiful women and handsome men, of soothing sounds and sweet perfumes, of glittering jewels and great kings' palaces. Lavra and his courtiers yielded to the enchantment of the hour, and, half waking, half sleeping, dreamed they dwelt in lovely fairyland. Then came from the harp a sound of beating drums and ringing clarions, of marching men and banners flapping in the breeze, till all aroused themselves and grasped their swords. And now she sang of the fight begun, of gallant deeds of arms, of glorious victory, while the wondrous harp kept time with wild sounds that told the soldier of the rushing charge of horse and the steady tramp of footmen, the battle shout, the clashing of mingled weapons, and the very groans of dying warriors. But with all this there was no word of truth or goodness or love. Only when she ended her song with the homeward march of the victorious army, she praised King Lavra as man had never been praised before, calling him the greatest and wisest, the bravest and best of men, the mightiest monarch in all the world. Then the lesser kings and all the nobles drew their swords and waved them in the air crying " Long live Lavra, our king." Back went the company to the great hall of Tara once more, and Lavra took the golden wreath and put it upon the dark singer's brow and placed the golden harp in her hand, and proclaimed her with his royal voice the chief of all the harpers of Ireland. Then the nobles shouted again, but the harpers looked black and had not a word to say, and the murmuring of the people without was like the hollow voice of the wind over the troubled sea. Up the aisle came the white-robed harper, looking so fresh and fair, so gentle and Itindly, and yet withal so strong and brave, that the king's heart misgave him as he looked at her, and her rival turned aa THE KINO WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. away from her Steady gaze. And she said, "O king, you have done yourself and your kingdom more harm than you have done me. When the great bell of Tara tolls the hour of midnight you will know who it was deserved the prize." Then she called to her dark companion, who sat beside the king, " Come, for your work is done ;" and the proud, triumphant singer was forced to leave her seat and follow her down the aisle and out of the great gateway of the palace, till the two disappeared in the throng, and none could tell where they had gone, just as none knew whence they came. The princes and nobles, the harpers and the people, went away to their homes, talking all the way ot the strange things they had seen and the wondrous music they had heard. Only the king's own harper Craftine remained, together with the servants and guards of the palace. Lavra was tired after his four days' work of listening to many harps, and above all with the excitement of that last day,. so he went early to rest and ordered faithful soldiers to guard the door of his bedchamber lest the fair singer he had rejected should try to do him harm through the n ight. At midnight he awoke and heard the single peal of the bell struck by the watchman in the tower to let weary watchers know that half the night was gone. Before its sound had died away the room was filled with light, and Lavra, sittin/j up, tried to call to his guard, but could not, for his lips were sealed. In the midst of the light the fair harper seemed to float before his eyes. As he gazed in terror upon the vision she said : '« King Lavra, you have shown this day that your soul is that of a brute and not that of a man. As your soul is, so your ears shall be." And then she vanished and the light died away. TIIR KINO WHO HAD HOUSE'S EAHS. 9$ Lavra regained his voice and was about to call his guards, but happily for him, before he did so he lifted his hand to his head, and, oh, horror ! he felt the long, hairy ears of a horse where his own shapely ones had been. He was over- whelmed with rage and shame, but what could he do 1 He arose and fastened his door from within, that none might enter. Then, tearing down the hangings of his bed, he wound a long piece of tapestry round and round his head and these hideous ears till nothing could be seen of his new deformity. Soon as morning dawned, the king called his servants and sent them 'o find the most skilful worker in cloth in all his kingdom. The man was roused from his slumbers and brought to the king's bedchamber with all his stuff and working tools. Lavra ordered him then and there to make for him of the most costly material a tall ornamental cap such as those worn by great kings in far off eastern lands, which he, as the greatest of all kings, might wear, and over which he might place his kingly crown. So the terrified tradesman, little dreaming what the cap was for, set to work with all his might, and before it was time for Lavra to meet his nobles and to judge the people in the great hall of Tara,. the cap was finished, and the poor man was sent away with a rich reward. The nobles and the people who had come to get jusdce were astonished to see their king appear in their presence with this strange tall headdress, for Lavra used to sit among them with no other covering for his head than his long yellow hair encircled with the golden crown. So Lavra, like many other people, old and young, had to tell a lie to hide his sin. He said that they had all acknowledged him to be the greatest king in the world, and it was not meet that he should wear nothing more upon his head than subject 24 The kino who had house's eaus. princes were allowed to carry. Therefore, he said, he wore this cap to mark his greatness and the honour they had put upon him. But all the people wondered greatly when they saw that the king never went without this oip or one like it in court or review, at home or abroad, by night or by day. Then at length the king's cap began to be the fashion. The princes wore caps not quite so tall, and the nobles wore them a little shorter than the princes, and in the end even the people hid their shock heads of hair under skull-caps of different forms and colours. So nobody in Ireland paid any more attention to the king's head-dress. But nature will out in spite of all we can do, and so it was with the king. His yellow hair grew long and thick till it became a great burden for one who loved field sports and out- door life. Lavra longed for the old days when his barber came and polled him, and now he had gone full two years without a hair of his head being cut. The heat caused by the hair and the cap made his royal head ache till he could bear it no longer. He ordered the barber to be called, but gave secret commands to the captain of his guard that the moment the man left the king's chamber he was to be gagged and hurried off to execution. The unhappy barber came. He saw the horse's ears upon the king's bare head and wondered if it was to be his task to cut them off When told to poll the royal head, he thought of the grand scandal he would be able to tell to his friends, and felt so proud of his knowledge of the secret that he longed to be away and make it known. But when his work was done and he stepped lightly out of the king's chamber, he was seized by the guard and, as he attempted to speak, a wooden bridle was thrust into his mouth and made fast behind his ears. Thus he was led away to the courtyard, where the execu- THE KINO WHO HAD HOUSE'S ears. t5 tioner's sword finished the deadly work, and the body of the poor headless barber was buried out of sight. His wife and children and friends came to Tara asking where he was, but the king told another lie and said he did not know. So sad grief and mourning came to one family of the land because of Lavra's sin. It was not long before the king's head had to be polled again. So another barber was brought into the palace to do the work, but nobody ever saw him come out of the gates or heard of him more. And soon after, another barber dis- appeared, and then another, till at last there were none left in the kingdom. Then Lavra ordered that clever young men should be looked out to take the place of the barbers- They came on in their turn to cut the king's hair, and after that were never seen again. There was weeping and mourn- ing for lost friends all over the land and great fear fell upon all the people. Some of the boldest who had lost sons and brothers and husbands went to the court and asked Lavra to grant them justice and punish the murderers of their friends, but the king only laughed savagely and said that if they would tell him who the guilty persons were, he would have them punished. But Lavra, with the tall cap over his pale face and sunken eyes, looked so stern and harsh and cruel and had such a guard of soldiers as fierce as himself all around him, that the poor people did not dare to tell him what they thought. For in their hearts they felt that the king knew all about the death of their friends. One day the officers came to the hut of a poor widow who had an only son, and said to her, " Your son must come and be the king's barber." The poor widow burst into tears at once and cried, " Oh, if King Lavra knew that he is my only son and all my support and comfort in the world, •6 THE KING WHO II AD HORSE'S EARS. surely he would not take him away." But the officers said, " Hush, woman I and be proud that the king honors your son so much as to let him touch his royal head." Then the widow answered, " Let the king honour somebody else and let me keep my boy, for nobody that goes into the palace to cut the king's hair ever comes out again." The officers paid no attention to her cries but. dragged her son away from her embrace and led him off to Tara, while the poor old mother ran after them wee|)ing and crying out and tearing her gray hair. So she pushed her way through the sentries at the gate; none of the servants of the palace dared to stop her, for they thought that she was mad, and the Irish in those days would not dream of hurting a mad person ; and at last she ran up the stairway and kept up her loud wee])- ing and wailing in the royal hall. The king came out in his great cap to learn the cause of the uproar, looking very gloomy and stern, but the widow fell down at his feet and prayed with all her mother's love that he would spare her only son. Lavra's heart was touched, for there was some little good left in him, and he ordered the guards and ser- vants to go away and leave him alone with the young man and his mother. Then he said; " Do you know why none of those who came to poll me ever went out alive I It is because dead men tell no tales. Now, if your son is to live he must take a solemn vow never to breathe to you, his niother, nor to any man, woman or child, a single word or hint of what he shall see in my bed-chamber. If he does, then you and he and all he tells the secret to must be put to death. Are you willing that he should take the vow ?" And the mother cried, thankfully, " O yes, my kind king, my good king, anything to save his life." So' the widow went home comforted, and the young man trembled as Lavra THE Kiyn WHO had iroHSE's ears. Mf made him take the solemn vow and then led him into his bedchamber. Late in the afternoon the boy came home, dressed m fine clothes the king had given him, and with a little purse full of gold as his wages, which he gave to his mother. But no- gold could have made her heart so glad as the sight of her son safe and sound. Yet she noticed that he looked very- sad and unlike his own lively, joyous self. He did not sing nor even talk as he used to do, but wduld sit silent and idle half the day in the chimney corner, with his head in his hand and a troubled look in his eyes. And at night he would toss upon his bed and moan and sometimes cry out in a fright, "Did I tell the secret?" ; or he would groan aloud, "Oh the vow, the terrible vow !" At last the king's gold was all gone for food, and, as her sort did not work, the poor widow saw that they must soon starve unless she could rouse him and make him go out to his daily toil. So she called in a priest, a very wise man, and told him how her son was pining away because of a great secret that lay heavily on his breast, a secret he had bound himself by a terrible vow to tell to no man, woman or child, even the nearest and the dearest. The wise man thought a while, and then he asked, " Did he promise not to tell the secret to the winds and the waves, to the cattle and the uees?" And the mother answered, " No, not to these, but only to no man or woman or child." Then the priest turned to the young man and said : •' Rise and go to the wood of Tara. There you will find an old oak tree with a hollow trunk. Put your lips to the hole m the trunk and tell your secret where no man or woman or child can hear, and then come back and do your work as before." When he had given this good advice the wise man departed. 28 THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. The young man arose and ran all the way to the wood, full of impatience to tell the secret that was eating his life away. He found the tree, and, taking a hurried look all around to see that no person was near, he put his lips to the hole and cast his arms about the rough old trunk, as if it were the body of a dear friend that he embraced. Then over and over again he whispered and whispered, louder and louder, till his heart felt relief, " King Lavra has horse's ears. King Lavra has horse's ears." Now the load was off his breast. He was his old self again. He ran, he bounded, he leapt, the same glad, joyous youth he was before the dreadful secret had taken away his strength and vigour. No evil dreams disturbed his rest that night, and, in the morning he went away to his work again, singing like the lark that flies to meet the rising sun. So the mother's heart was glad, and she blessed the good priest who had given her wise counsel. You remember Craftine, the king's harper. Every day he played and sang to Lavra, and his music was good. But one morning Lavra had a sullen fit, and when Craftine played to him he said : " Take away that wretched harp. Its sounds are not fit to be heard in these halls where the lady harpers played so sweetly." Craftine thought within himself that their music had not done the king much good, but he obeyed. But when he left Lavra's presence he was so angry because his harp was despised that he dashed it to the ground and broke it in many pieces. Afterwards he was sorry for what he had done, and, knowing that, when the king's sullen fit was over, he would send for him again, he only thought of how to mend the broken instrument. The harp-strings lay on the ground still perfect, but the wood of joy, as it was called, was so shattered that it could not be pieced together again, and, even if it could, the tone of the harp was gone for ever. Craftine must find a THE KING WIW HAD HORSE'S EARS. 2^ new wood of joy, all of one piece, without crack or flaw, of strange shape, and hard and dry, so that it should not shrink or rot. Away to the wood of Tara he hied him, and, search- ing long and diligently, came at last to the old hollow oak in whose hoary trunk the young barber's secret had been buried. Eound about the very hole into which the widow's son had whispered his burden, Craftine saw the half circle of wood he needed. He called the carpenter to cut it from the dry and seasoned tree, and gave it into the hands of the wood carver, that he might polish it well and grave it with quamt device and fit it for the harp strings. All night he sat watch- ing the carver at his work, and the sun had risen in the sky before the strings were fastened to the pegs ; and then, just as he began to tune his new-made harp, a royal messenger came, saying . '' The king is waiting for his harper." Craftine rose, put on his green mantle and carried the harp himself into the king's presence. Lavra was on his royal seat, surrounded by his nobles, and Craftine saw by his face that' he was in a gracious mood. *' Come hither, Craftine," said the king, smiling, " for we cannot do without your music, and in truth there is none like it, after all." So Craftine bowed his head in reverence and thankfulness to the king and then began to strike the cords. But as he struck, he trembled with awe and fear, and the nobles turned their heads aside, and Lavra moved uneasily upon his throne and hid his face in his hands. For the harp was like a sweetly mocking human voice, and, now like a chime of bells, now like a grand cathedral chant, it kept repeating these few truthful words : " King Lavra has horse's ears. King Lavra has horse's ears, King Lavra has horse's ears." Craftine used all hisp owers. He tried to sing that he might drown the voice of the harp, but whether he would or no, he could only echo its painful 30 THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. words : " Lavra has horse's ears." All the time the king's face was working. Rage and indifference and smile of con- tempt came and went upon it, with terror and grief and the sad look of rest that comes when the worst of sorrow is known A brave soldier who loved the king, spite of all his faults drew his sword and said : "Shall I sunder the cords, shall I slay the man that unite to speak foul wrong of my king?" Then the king rose quickly, motioned with his hand to put back the sword, and with a great voice, that could be heard far beyond the hall, he thundered " No !" While the nobles and officers wondered what was about to happen, Lavra gave comr^ind to throw open the hall doors and let the people in who were waiting for him to sit on his throne of justice. When the hall was full, he turned to Craftine and said, " Strike your harp again" ; andCraftine, trembling, struck his harp, hoping for some better strain. But the same mocking voice came from its cords, " King Lavra has horse's ears !" " Why do yon always play the same thmg?" asked the king; and the harper answered: " Have mercy upon me, Sire; for it is the harp that repeats it against my will, and that with all my power I cannot make say anything else." Then Lavra said : " Let all the people listen, for this harp's voice is the voice of God against whom I have sinned that comes to condemn me." He took off his royal crown and laid it on the floor at his feet, saying " I am not fit to wear a crown, for I have been the slayer of my people and not their friend." Next he lifted the tall cap from his head and cried, " See what a king you have ; mock him and curse him, for he deserves it and more beside." But the nobles and all the people lifted up their hands, and with one voice they shouted, till the hall rang again with their shouts. Long live King Lavra, long live the king !" For when THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. 31 Lavra raised the cap, meaning that they should see the hideous ears, they saw nothing but the long yellow hair of olden days that streamed down upon his shoulders. And as it seemed to them that they had got back again the kindly, simple-hearted monarch they had loved, they shouted once more " Long live King Lavra, long live our king !" Lavra wondered with great astonishment till his eye rested upon a shield of polished steel which hung near by, and there, reflected from its bright surface, he saw his kingly form just as it had been in the olden days ; for the cause of all his auguish and deceit and cruelty, the horrid ears were gone. So the king knelt down before all the people, and when they saw him kneeling, they knelt too, and he prayed a prayer that was full of heart-broken thankfulness to the great wonder- working God in heaven. And when it was ended, though the people knew not what it was all about, they were sure from the look of the king's face that it was true and good, and all together said " Amen." Then up through the press came the well-known figure of the white-robed harper, and bending low beside Lavra she picked up the golden crown and placed it on his royal head, and as she led him back to his throne, breathed not a word of reproach or blame, but only said, <' God save the king !" which filled the hall with joyous shouts once more. After that she called Craftine and bade him tune his harp in unison with her own ; and they two played before the throne. It was strange to listen to Craftine's playing, for his truthful wood of joy had lost its mocking tone and dismal strain, and seemed to catch every note that fell from the white harper's fingers with so full and sweet a sound that it was hard to tell which was the diviner music. All the time the king sat thinking, thinking bitterly of the sad, sad past, till the harpers sang of the angels' joy in heaven over the sinner who 3* THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. repents of his wicked ways and conies back to truth and right again. Then Lavra arose and blessed his people in the name of the great forgiving God. Raising his hand to heaven he promised to make amends for all the evil he had done, and from that time forth to reign in truth and righteousness, the father and friend of his subjects, and the constant lover of all that is right and good. Lavra kept his word. There was great joy and gladness in Tara, for the king, no longer shut up in his palace, was ever among the people, seeking out the families that had suffered by his cruel orders that he might do them all the good in his power, and caring for all the sick and poor and sad and erring, as if they were his own children. The white-robed harper had departed, unnoticed as she came ; but whenever an evil spirit troubled Lavra, he sent for Craf- tine to play before him. And Craftine's harp had so learned her song of truth and beauty and goodne-s that it filled the heart of the king, and drove the evil spirit far away. After a few years the wicked spirit came no more, but Craftine still kept on harping, and Lavra became wiser and better every day. Many people came to him to Icarn what had made his life so happy and good, and chief of all the advice he gave them, even when his yellow locks were white with age, was this : " Confess your fault and all will be well." Like the Irish king, when we are setting out on life's jour- ney, we gather around us our harpers. They are the voices we listen to, the books we read, the examples that are set before us. Among them come temptations to evil , and lessons of truth and goodness. The white-robed harper is the Book of books, the Word of God, that sings divine THE KING WHO HAD HORSE'S EARS. 33 songs in our tars such as the voice of man never ut- tered, to lead us into the paths of peace and holiness. When we will not hear that song, but prefer the music of the world, then sin comes into our hearts and takes up its lodging there. Pride and falsehood and suspicion and malice and murderous thoughts follow each other, till our conscience condemns us and our life becomes a sad, dreary, wretched scene, painful to ourselves and hurtful to others. But God does not leave us. He sends His good angel to whisper better things, and when the time comes, conscience, like the wood of joy, tells us of all our faults and the ugliness of our moral nature. Then, if we are wise, like King Lavra, we will confess our sins to God and ask Him, who knows everything, to look into our hearts and see all the evil that is there, and give us new hearts to love and serve Him. If we believe that God so loved us, wicked as we are, that He sent His Son to die for us, our evil con- science, like the horse's ears, will vanish away, and by His grace we will be made strong to do that which is good, to repair past wrong, and to be helpful to those among whom God has placed us in the world. For when we con- fess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. III. III. "Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteous- ness ; that when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations."— Luke xvi. 9. Who has not heard of Egypt, that old, old land, and of its famous city Alexandria? It was in that city that the things happened which I am about to tell. Alexandria was looked upon as a new city by the native Egyptians, for while Memphis and Thebes were in the height of their pride and glory when Moses was bom and before a word of the Bible had been written, it was only built by Alexander the Great little more than three hundred years before the Saviour of man came as a babe to the cradle of Bethlehem. Many hundreds of years ago, when Alexandria was a Christian city, and before the Arabians with sword and fire entered it to kill and destroy and set up the false religion of their prophet Mahomet, there lived in that city a patriarch named John. This patriarch was a kind of archbishop, the chief of all the clergy in Egypt. But although he had been raised so high, he was not a proud or a vain man. He was- like the Apostle John, his namesake, gentle, loving and kind, fond of little children, good to the poor, and caring very little what became of himself so long as he did God's work. One of his friends was the Bishop Troilus, who used to preach in Alexandria and teach the young men and visit the people in their homes. John loved Troilus because he was a good man and tried to serve God and be useful in the world. He 38 THE nEAvriruL bouse. was a wise man, too, and a scholar ; tliis only could be said against him, he was too much in love with money. Troilus was a miser, and like many misers, he was so afraid thieves would takeaway his gold, that he either hid it in a safe place or carried it about with him. One day Patriarch John and Bishop Troilus had their donkeys saddled and rode out of the city away to the sea shore. Riding along the sands they had very pleasant talks on the way about the beautiful works of God they saw all around them, and about their own little work for God in Alexandria. Troilus enjoyed the afternoon very much, and said to John how thankful they should be that they were not like the poor Christians in the West who were being killed or driven from their homes by savage enemies. Just theu John looked forward and saw a great cloud of dust some distance off; and as he looked more closely, he saw that it was made by a large company of peoi^le coming towards them. So he and Troilus rode on quickly and came up to the company. What a sad sight it was ! There were hun- dreds of people there, but they looked like so many ghosts. Old grey haired men and women who could hardly hobble along even with the help of their sticks and crutches ; young men and women that should have been strong and fair, but that were so wasted with starvation as to be mere walking skeletons ; and little children crying piteously for bread or to be taken up into the arms of their poor fainting fathers and mothers : that was what John and Troilus saw. A tall, dark-faced man in a long black robe came forward when he saw that John and Troilus were clergymen, and spoke to them in the Latin language, which they knew, al- though their own language was Greek. He told John that he had been the minister of many of these poor people, who THR BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. ■ $^ loved «od and tried to walk in His ways. But armies of wicked men had come into their country. They sacked the towns and villages, killed many of the young men, and made slaves of all whom they took prisoners. So he and his peo- ple left the town where they lived and set out for Egypt, choosing rather to perish on the way than fall into the hands of their cruel enemies. As they went onwards they were joined by many others who were fleeing for the same cause, until they became a great company of helpless, suffering creatures. Some had fallen down by the way and died. Old people and little children, and even some mothers and fathers that had seemed strong and healthy, had been hastily buried in the sands, that no ravenous beast or bird might devour them, while the sad procession moved on. And now here they were at last, so hungry no one could tell who had not gone for days without food, their clothes all soiled and torn their shoes worn away, their flesh blisteied with the «un 'and aching with many sores made by the dust and drifting sand, and so tired and weary that again and again some of them had praved their friends to let them lie down and die. " My father," said the African bishop to Patriarch John, "find some food, some clothes, some shelter, some rest, for my poor flock and God will reward you." John's heart was touched with what he heard and saw ; for never before had he known such misery. Troilus, too, was drawing his sleeve across his eyes in a suspicious way and saying in his mind how thankful he ought to be. " If they will come into the city," he said to John, " we will take up a collection for them." But John waved his hand, as Troilus thought too impatiently, and answered : " How dare we ask these weary, starving creatures to go a step farther?" Then turning to the minister, he said : " Let them go aside 40 THE nEAVTlFVL HOVSK. under the shade of tliese trees ; there they will find rest, and water to quench their thirst in the meantime." So the people lay down under the trees and tried to rest. " Brother Troilus," said the patriarch, " we must do something for the friends of Christ, and yet I have no money with me; give me thirty pieces of gold." Now thirty large pieces of gold wa» a great sum, and to be asked for so much almost took away the bishop's breath ; but as John was his chief he had to obey, and count it out of his purse. John put the money into the hands of the African minister, and, giving him his ass, told told him to go with Troilus into the city and buy food enough for the people, while Troilus should call together all the presbyters and deacons and get them to provide shelter and clothing, baths and medicines and all else that the perse- cuted friends of Christ might need. So away they went into Alexandria, the minister's heart full of deepest joy and gratitude, that of Troilus heavy and sad. Patriarch John staid with the people under the trees. He saw an old man who had lost his headdress and whose head was quite bald, so that he was ashamed of himself. To him he went up, called him father, and put his own hat upon his head. A youth who was supporting his old mother had no- shoes. There were deep cuts in his feet, and the sand got into them and made them so painful that he could hardly keep down a groan as he limped along. John took water from the well, washed the wounded feet and put his own sandals upon them. Then he saw a poor wan mother, lightly clad, with a baby at her breast, looking for some place to lie down while the baby slept. So the kind patri- arch took off his cloak, laid it on the ground, and led the weary woman to this couch as respectfully as if she had been a noble lady. After that he walked about with bare THE UKAVTtFVL UOVSE. 4» head and feet, finding comfortable places for the old, soothing the fretful children, carrying water to the thirsty, washing the cuts and sores of the wounded and binding them up with pieces of his own clothes, all the time speaking kindly words to all and telling them of the food and other good things that were coming. Soon the minister came with a great train of men and animals carrying bread and figs and many things beside. What a sight it was to see these hungry people eat, and above all to see how strong and glad they seemed after a few mouthfuls had put new life into them ! Then after they had eaten and drunk, and the very old and the sick and the very young had been put on the animals and in the baskets that had brought the food, they started for the city. And all the way John walked beside a sick old grandmother, holding her up on his ass, looking, for all his bare head and feet and tattered clothes, as noble and grand as he was true and good. So they came to Alexan- dria, where the presbyterH and deacons, and many good people whose hearts God had touched, met them and carried inetn away to restful, happy homes. But the patriarch was so busy looking after the comfort of everybody that he did not notice, what surprised all the presbyters and deacons, Bishop Troilus was not there. Now 'troilus had done all that John had commanded. He had helped the African bishop to buy food for his starving people, and had called together the presbyters and deacons of the Church that they might hear the sad story and do all in their power to help the sufferers. He did not tell the bishop that the large gold pieces which he paid to the merchants for food came out of his purse, for he did not want the bishop's thanks. Nor when he assembled the offi- cers of the Church did he let them know how he, Troilus, 42 THE BE A UTIFUL HO USE . had advanced so great a sum of money for the relief of the fugitives, for he was not a vain man ea^er to have much made of his good deeds. But all the time he was thinking how long it would be before the great gap in his money-bag would be filled. Then he blamed John in his heart, because John had so much more to live upon and do good with than he, a poor bishop. It was all very well for a rich patriarch to distribute thirty pieces of gold as if he were a king, but for ■one who had to toil for his daily bread it was quite another matter. Besides, why should he bear the burden of all these people when he was only one man out of many thousands of Christians in Alexandria, all of whom were bound to help their suffering brethren. The right thing would have been whit he had advised — a collection. Then the expense would have been spread over the whole Church, and a piece of silver from every member of the Church would have amounted to far more than his thirty pieces of gold. Also, .this would have taught the people the duty of giving — a lesson they very much needed, in spite of all his earnest preaching. Along with these regretful tnoughts a great fear came upon Troilus that John might not be satisfied with the thirty pieces, but, finding he was rich enough to give so much, might ask for more. So he hastened home to leave- the rest •of his money in a safe place before he went back to meet the patriarch. In the strong box under his bed he put the gold pieces, and as he counted them out, thirty short of what he numbered in the morning, the full extent of his loss dawned upon his mind and his heart became heavy as lead. He had hardly closed the box and pushed it back into its place •when a cold chill ran through all his body ; the blood rushed to his head ; for a moment his brain seemed to be on fire ; THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. 43 and then he fell in a faint upon the floor and knew nothing. His wife came running in, full of fear when she heard the fall, and knelt beside him, thinking he was dead. She raised his head while servants brought wine and water to restore him. They bathed his forehead with the water, poured some wine into his lips, and rubbed his hands and feet, till at last he came to himself and, opening his eyes, said : " I must go back to the patriarch and to the poor friends of Christ." But this his wife and the neighbours who had come in would not let him do. He had been working too hard, he had exposed himself to the heat of the sun, he had been trying his brain with too much study ; so they said he must rest, and they would let John know why he could not go back to him that day. But as they all promised to tell the patriarch, and as everybody thought that some other body would be sure to do so, John never heard that the bishop whom he loved was sick. Troilus was laid upon his couch, and, having nothing to do, began again to think of his lost gold. His attentive wife brought him the delicacies that sick people like, but the bishop would not touch them. He muttered some nonaense about being too poor to eat such food, and cautioned his wife to be careful in her household expenses, for he was nearly a ruined man. And she was just a little offended at receiving such advice, for she was a bishop's daughter and prided herself upon knowing how to make a little go a long way. But she thought that her husband's head had been hurt by a sunstroke perhaps, or, it might be, by his fall when he fainted. So she left him in hopes that he would be better after a quiet sleep. Troilus did not sleep. All night he tossed upon his bed thinking of his gold. He went over his old reasonings as to how the needed money should have 44 THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. been raised, till he worked himself into a frame of what he called righteous indignation, and felt that in all Alexandria there was not a more abused man. He forgot his Scripture- reading;, without which he had never opened or closed the day since he gave himself to the work of God, and, worse than all, he forgot to pray. If he had prayed, his prayer would not have been " Our Father," but " Give me back my thirty pieces of gold." In the morning he was very ill. He could take no food, and this, with his want of sleep and painful thoughts, made him so pale and haggard and weak that he looked like an old, old man. His friends were in great grief. A wise phy- sician came, but with all his wisdom could not tell what was the matter with the bishop, and Troilus would not let him or anybody else know his trouble. Still the foolish man hugged his sorrow, and the cry of his heart, which seemed to shed tears of blood with every cry, was " my gold, my lost gold, my thirty broad pieces of gold." At last his mind and body could stand the strain no longer. Troilus fell into a raging fever. In his fever he was like a raving madman. Sometimes his look was wild and fierce like that of a savage beast. Then he would clutch the bedclothes as if he had hold of somebody's throat, crying out " Give me back my money." And again his face was full of terror as he seemed to be holding back one who was advancing towards him, to whom he called, " no more, not one farthing more !" Now he would sink back upon his pillow with such a sad pitiful expression, almost sobbing, " Oh John, John, why did you rob your poor bishop?" ; or he would go on for hours mut- tering like some feeble childish idiot " my thirty pieces of gold." Troilus' wife wondered very much that the patriarch did THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. 45 did not come to see her husband. But in truth nobody had told him that Troilus was ill, and, although he missed his bishop, he was so much taken up with the fugitives that he quite forgot to ask the cause of his absence from the church. So after Troilus had been three days in bed she went to see John. She told him how very sick he was, of his raving in his fever, how not even the wise physician could tell what was the cause of his sickness, and that he was always talk- ing about some lost money. John was very sorry, because he loved Troilus. He left his work and went to see him, but Troilus did not know who he was. The good patriarch knelt down and prayed that God would heal his friend, but all the time that he prayed it shocked him to hear the sick man call out, " Oh my gold, my gold, my lost gold !" Then John knew what was the matter with Troilus. So he said to his wife " My poor brother gave me thirty pieces of gold, the day that the persecuted friends of Christ came to the city, to buy them bread, and now he is afraid that without this money you and your children will be left to starve. I will send you the pieces as soon as I return home, for I only meant to borrow them for a short time, and you must find some way of let ting him know that his gold is not lost." So the patriarch went home very sad in his heart, not so much because Troilus was sick, as because his sickness was a poisonous plant springing from the love of money, which is the root of all evil. .. ' , A few minutes later a servant came with a bag of money and handed it to the bishop's wife. Troilus was lying back upon his pillow murmuring " My thirty pieces of gold, my thirty pieces of gold." As he was quiet and his bed was undisturbed, his wife took the coins out of the bag and laid them one by one upon the coverlet just above his knees. 46 THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. , Soon Troilus sat up and was beginning to tear his hair in his grief and madness, when his eye fell upon the gold. He looked at it with fixed gaze for a moment, and then, with a strange foolish chuckle, like that of a crazy person who sees something which pleases him, he stretche I oat his hand and touched the money. The touch thrilled him, as if the gold were a living thing He picked up the pieces one after another and piled them up in his other hand. Then he spread them out again upon the bed and counted them. Yes, they were all there : thirty pieces of gold, broad pieces, 'bright and shining. His wife watched him through the door and thanked God in her heart as she saw how calm and reasonable he became. When Troilus was tired of looking at his gold and counting it, he laid it under his pillow just beneath his head, and then sank into a quiet refreshing sleep, the first that had visited his eyes since his sickness began. He awoke in his right mind. The past three days he had no remembrance of, except as a troubled dream. His fever had almost left him, and, although faint and weak, he was very happy because he could put his hand under the pillow and feel that his money was there. No one had told him where it came from, but he knew that it was the patriarch who had returned it as if it were a loan, and now he had no thoughts too kmd and good for the man whom he had judged so harshly a little before. He did not complain of the food that his glad wife brought him, but ate and drank heartily, and even asked for his children that they might receive their father's blessing. There was joy in the bishop's house that night, and among his friends and neighbours, as he fell into the easy restful sleep of returning health. So Troilus slept. until the morning dawned, and then, just as THE BEAUTIFUL HOUf^E. 47 the busy round of daily life began outside his closely cur- tained windows in the streets of the city, it called him into that strange state between sleeping and waking when visions pass through men's minds, and Troilus dreamed a dream. He was walking, or floating, for he could hardly tell which, in a new country of rare beauty. Far as the eye could reach it was one great garden, whose grassy slopes were covered with unnumbered shrubs and flowers of delicious perfume and gorgeous colouring. Fountains of purest water shot up into the air and broke into delicate spray which watered the green sward, or swelled the little rills that flowed onwards in many a tiny cataract to join the great river below. And the great river itself poured its mighty tide over golden sands with a grand yet joyous rythmic motion that sounded as if ten thousand human voices were singing psalms to God. Then Troilus knew, though he could never afterwards explain it, what is meant by the voice of many waters. There were giant trees upon the river's banks, laden with all manner of fruits, such as neither Egypt nor the land of Palestine had ever known, and on their ever-green branches perched and sang birds of the richest feathering and most melodious voice. The dwellers in this Paradise were clad in robes of dazzling whiteness, and on every brow there shone a royal crown of gold and gems. Nor was there lack of habitations meet for these princely inhabitants. On every side rose palaces embowered in leafy shades, surrounded by grassy lawns and approached by ancient avenues. Troilus felt ashamed of himself in his humble garb and mean appearance amid such scenes of beauty and splendour. He would fain have shrunk away into some quiet corner, but something seemed to push him forward till he came in front of a palace which the workmen were just finishing. It was of marble, 48 THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. white and polished, grander in its proportions than the most famous Grecian temple. Its pillars were of great transparent stones of changing colours, the names of which he did not know, and its pinnacles of solid gold. A man stood by his side and, pointing to the great portico that formed the entrance to the palace, said simply " Look !" Then Troilus looked upwards and saw a ladder set against the portico, and on the ladder an angel, for so he seemed, with chisel and mallet in his hand. The angel was engraving an inscription over the door ; and when he had ended his work and stood aside to look at it, Troilus read the words : " The everlasting mansion and resting place of Bishop Troilus." No sooner had the bishop read these welcome words than he sprang forward and, with a great shout of joy, awoke. The sick man was sorry that he had awakened so soon out of sleep, yet he thanked God for such a vision, and prayed that he might dream it again. Yet before he dozed off into a second sleep he put his hand beneath his pillow and felt his gold, to be sure that it was there. Once more the sights and sounds of this world faded away from eye and ear, and he found himself anew in the garden country of many mansions. Everything seemed even more beautiful than when first the heavenly scene gladdened the eye of his spirit, so that he longed to bring all his friends to this new land, and with them live there for- ever. But he was most anxious to see his own mansion, which before had appeared so fair and stately. With quick steps he hastened over the flower-sprinkled turf and up the avenue of majestic cedars, till he stood opposite the well-known portico. And now it seemed as if the sun were shining down upon the palace with the warm, mellow light of evening, for it was ten fold more glorious than before, so dazzlingly white THE BEAUTIFUL HOVSE. 49 were its marble walls, so radiant its glassy pillars of varied hues so bright and shining its roof and pinnacles of burnished gold.' Lightly he pressed on to the broad steps which led to the portico, eager to take possession of the mansion which had been built for him, and that bore his very name and office upon its arched doorway ; w'.ien the grave stranger, who had told him to look before, placed his hand upon his arm and again said : " Look ! " So Troilus, a little impatient at being checked, and expecting to see nothing that had not met his view when last he turned his eyes to the portal, gave a some- what angry glance upwards. The ladder and the angel were still there, and this seemed strange to him because the sculp- tor's work had been finished, the inscription completed at his first visit. " Look," again said the speaker, and Troilus looked more attentively, and, as he looked, a sad change canie over his heart, and burning blushes glowed upon cheek and brow. With mallet and chisel the old inscription had been struck off from the arch. A new one, just finished, had taken its place, and Troilus read it in grief and pain : " The ever- lasting mansion and resting place of John the Patriarch, which he bought from Bishop Troilus for thirty pieces of gold." The Bishop awoke the second time, and, when his wife came to smooth his pillows and to learn how he had he passed the night, she saw that he had been weeping bitterly. Troilus had fallen from the heights of bliss almost to the brink of the gulf of despair. He had seen the land of promise in all its beauty, but there was no place in it for him. Worse than all, his heavenly mansion had passed into the hands of another, and all because of his own blind folly and sinful love of earthly things. What was the value of these wretched thirty pieces of gold for which he had bar- tered his everlasting dwelling-place ! They were not enough 4 5© THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE, to gild a single pinnacle of the house that once bore his name. So the bishop came to his better self, and with a humble, penitent heart he prayed to the great builder of all things, who is God, that he would pardon all his sins for the sake of that Blessed Saviour who said, "In my Father's house are many mansions — I go to prepare a place for you." Then he called his wife and told her of all his faults and the wonderful dreams that God had sent to teach him heavenly wisdom. He gave her the thirty pieces and bade hef take thirty pieces more from the strong box beneath his couch and carry them all to John, that the good Patriarch might spend them upon the poor friends of Christ. John was glad when the bishop's wife came with the gold, because in that gold he saw how great were the riches that God had poured into the heart of Troilus. What a meeting it was when the Patriarch came to visit his bishop. He had loved Troilus well before, but now that his life was raised above earthly things and wholly given to God, he loved him with tenfold affection. With one mind and heart they went about their Master's work henceforth, so that no poor friend of Christ could tell which of them he loved the most, so perfectly had each received the spirit of Him who ** though He was rich, yet for our sakes became poor." Many happy dreams had Troilus after the busy labours of the day were done, and when at last his life's day ended and faithful friends stood round his dying bed, they heard the bishop's voice : " I see it, I see it j it is real, it is true, it is no dream ! the everlasting mansion asid resting place of the poor sinner Troilus." And so he passed away into the Paradise of God, the House of many mansions. THE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE. |I No gold can win heaven, for it is not with corruptible things such as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ that all are saved. But no covetous man who is an idolater hath any inheritance in the Kingdom of Christ and of God. So the blood of Jesus Christ must wash away from our hearts the love of money and all earthly things, and His Holy Spirit must teach us to esteem them all but dross, as matters of little value, compared with the love of God. Then, if the love of God be in our hearts, we will love His people, His poor friends, His little ones. The dross will be useful in enabling us to relieve their wants, and thus show that our love is real and true. In this way we shall make friends of the unrighteous mammon. And when at last we stand before the great Eedeemer, it will be in a very true sense these tokens of our faith and love that will receive us into everlasting habitations, for His gracious words will be, " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Come ye, blessed of my Father, inherit the King- dom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." All may not have the thirty pieces of gold to give, but if they have the Christ-like heart, it will make any gift of great price in His eyes who said, " Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you he shall in no wise lose his reward." IV. rjttt Sttdiaw mv\ and tUje W^oxozxs. IV. 5^nc jndian (SltX and the l^loujet^s. .. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of these is charity."-!. Corinth, xiii. 13. Once, so the story tells us, there were no flowers in North America. There were cones upon the pines and cedars and hemlocks, catkins on the birches, and reddish hanging tufts upon the maples that turned afterwards into wmged seeds. The marsh grass also had its blossom, and so had the corn in the clearings, and the wild gooseberries and currants that grew in the rocky clefts. But there were no showy flowers, none of beautiful colour and sweet perfume to make into a nosegay, or twine into wreaths for the heads of the Indian girls. In summer the earth was green ^^'hj^^ /^^^^ • foliage of the trees, and brown and grey with the tree .nks'and the rocks and soil beneath ; and in winter all was white with the snow, except when the wind shook it down from the dark tops of the leafy evergreens, and "^^de ^are th^^ grey leafless trunks of the hardwood trees All the b igh colour men saw was either in the skies above or m their reflection upon the earth. On a bright, clear mornmg, as he sun arose, there was a red light in the east that changed after a while to a golden yellow. It fell upon the distant hUls and gave them hazy purple tops, upon the rocks and made iJ^m glow like silver, upon the trees and gilded their greenery till it shone like a beetle's wing. Then the blue sky came m sight and 56 THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. at once found its reflection in the waters of lake and river which before were as dark and gloomy as the forest shades'. And at evening, when the sun was setting, it was even more glorious ; for the western sky and the woods and waters were all flooded with many hued waves of light, crimson and purple, yellow and azure, and light golden green, glowing up or fading away into each other till the darkness of night came on. Sometimes, too, through the day, when the light rain fell from fleecy clouds while the sun was shining, a rainbow would sud- denly start from either horizon across the sky, and in its seven- tmted ribbon display all the colours at once. In those days there was an Indian village on the shore of one of the Canadian lakes. It was placed at the end ot a bay, long but shallow, in which the Indians in their canoes fished, or hunted the deer that their dogs had driven out of the woods. The people who lived there were quite contented with their lot, as their fathers had been before them. So long as the crop of Indian corn was good, as the sweet maple sap ran freely in the early spring, and as fish and deer were to be found in plenty, they were happy and cared for nothing else. They liked a clear sky and dry weather, because they felt these to be pleasant and comfortable, but the brightness of the sun- set and the sunrise were nothing to them but signs of what the day or the morrc-- would be. They had never known what flowers were, and did not feel the want of them. Now and again, when they dressed themselves out in their holiday clothes of deer-skin and furs, and looked at their belts and collars of black and white beads, made out of the shells that once came from a distant shore, those who were fondest of show thought of the colours in the skies and longed for a moment to dip their finery in them. But the wish soon passed away as an impossible thing, and they went back to their THE INDIAN OIRL AND THE FLOWERS. 57 black and white and green and brown as if there were no other colours in the wide world. There was one, however, who thought differently. She was a little girl who had come into the village, nobody seemed to know how. Whether she had strayed there alone or had been left by some wandering tribe, or had been made prisoner in war, none were willing to tell if they knew. She lived in the house of an old chief, where there were some women and young men but no children beside herself Because she was pale, and her neat deerskin dress was tanned very white, she had been called Owistok, the snow-bird, the winter visitor of the snowy north that loses its white coat when the spring comes in, and in its grey cloak and hood, with white breast and beal and feet, looks so like a demure little nun. Just as demure and pretty, but more quiet and gentle was the little bird's name-sake, Owistok. Girls were not much thought of in those old Indian days, but, perhaps, because she lived in the house of tha old chief, and certainly because she was so wise and good, everybody had a kind word for the young foundling. She tried to be helpful to all, to the old women in their hard out-door work and household duties, to the young women with their babies, and to the children like herself in their play. She would sit with the fishermen and supply them with bait, would carry in her share of the cora harvest, boil down the maple sap into sugar, and be the first to welcome the hunters home. Even the dogs knew her, and when driven away by others, were always sure of a refuge and a bone in her company. But although she was so willing and so kind, she was not strong ; and many a time as the men and women looked after her, going away tired and weary from some good work beyond her strength, they would say : " Our little Owistok will fly away with the other snow-birds before another summer comes. 58 THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. The Indian girl loved the sky, and she loved the earth most when the colours of the sky shone upon it. These colours were something real in her eyes, and she wanted them. Why did they only come for so short a time and then fade away ; all except the blue of the water, and that hardly lasted for more than a day ? Sometimes, indeed, the lake remained beautiful all through the night, with the silver moonbeams glancing over its sapphire waves and the star points flickering on its surface. She was tempted to take some of its water up in her hand, to dip some up in a bowl of coarse earthenware, hoping to keep the blue near her. Alas ! the blue faded away, and she saw nothing but the well-known colour of hand and bowl instead. Still she did not give up her confidence. There was blue somewhere if it was not in the water. She ran a mile along the shore to find the end of the rainbow arch, only to see it vanish from sight. She climbed a hill top early in the morning to bathe herself in the violet light, and paddled her canoe in the evening far into the sunset, in hopes that even one ray of glory might descend upon her, but all in vain. Yet still, though bitterly disappointed, she believed that the colours she saw were real and true. She could not name the colours nor describe tlem to anyone. She only knew that they were beautiful, that they did her good to look at them, and that she would be more happy if she had them somehow to herself. Owistok was not selfish in her love of the colours. She wished to make the world more beautiful and the people in it happier by their means. She saw a young squaw standing in the rosy light of the morning, and noticed how lovely she looked. What would she not have given to make that passing loveliness stay ! She gathered sprigs of herbs and TBE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. S$ leafy twigs of many trees, and wove them into a garland, then hung the garland about a baby's neck. The fading sunlight shining down through the trees fell upon the different shades of green that she had woven, giving them such a brightness and newness of colour that the little child clutched the leaves as a coveted prize. Then Owistok cried like a baby herself, because the little fellow threw the garland away when he found it was made of nothing that he had not seen before. A canoe came round a point just then full into the glow of the western sky. The water was calm, and the canoe seemed to stand high out of it, and the two Indians who were paddling appeared to be giants, but such radiant heavenly giants, in a ship of gold with paddles of silver gently gliding over a crimson sea, that she ran to the beach to meet them, hoping to see visitors from another world. The canoe came in, a common, dirty log canoe, paddled by two of the commonest Indians in tho village ; and Owistok stood dumb with disappointment and holding her hands before her eyes for very shame. And when she came to herself she could not tell the men what she had seen far off and hoped to see near, because it would only make them unhappy to think they were so unlike her vision of beauty. One day the girl ventured to speak to the old chief about the colours in the sky. Everybody else had laughed at her when she had said they were real things and could be handled, and had told her she was foolish to hope they might be brought down into the world to stay. But the old chief listened quietly to the girl's earnest talk, and when at last he smiled, it was not a smile of doubt or ridicule, but a kindly one that seemed to say, "all you have told me is very good." When she had done talking he answered, ** My little snow-bird, let me tell you what happened long, long 6o THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS, ago, when I was young and strong, and my eyes were clear and quick to see. There came into this village three birds, much larger than our little friends whose name you bear. One was the colour of the morning sun, another that of the moon when she shines through the smoke of the burning forest, and the other that of the clear summer sky. I saw them as near to me as you are now. I could have shot them with my bow, but did not dare. They staid a little while and then flew away together. After they were gone, as I walked under the branches they had perched upon, I saw three feathers which they had let fall, one from each bird. I picked them up and kept them. Though it is so many years ago, I have them now. See for yourself that these colours are real and true." Then the old chief opened his medicine bag, took out a little roll of soft birch bark, and handed it to the child. She opened it up with eager fingers, and there lay, fresh as if they had fallen but yester- day, the feathers of the golden oriole, the scarlet tanager, the bluebird, that had come to the chief in his youthful days to teach him a lesson of faith. Owistok gazed at the feathers with eager, loving eyes. There were tears in them, but they were tears of joy. Now she knew that the loveliness of the skies was no delusion to mock the trusting heart, but something as real and true as the sober browns and greens of the forests in which she dwelt. " Oh father," cried the girl at last ; '« why cannot everybody, the old men and the warriors, the squaws and the children, have such feathers as these to handle and look at and adorn themselves with, till the world becomes more beautiful ? Will they not grow like the corn we put into the ground in spring, and give us enough for all ?" The old chief answered, " No, my little snow-bird ; " they cannot THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. 6 1 grow. If we were to put them in the ground their colour would be washed out by the rain, and they would be bleached white by th<^ sun. Very soon, my little pale-face, too soon for all our hearts, you will have more beautiful things than these. Then do not forget the people you have loved, but send us such colours as will grow." Owistok promised eagerly ; then the old man rose, and, taking her quietly in his arms, laid her upon her couch of furs, where she fell asleep. There was grief in the chief's house next morning. The old man took back his three feathers out of a little hand which would never open again, and put them away sadly in his medicine bag. The squaws moved quietly about their work, only sobbing as they looked upon a weary little face that yet wore a pleasant smile. There was neither fishing nor hunting that day. The children who knew no better cried for Owistok to come and play with them, and the older ones who knew could not comfort them. Everyone in the village felt that the world had suddenly became very empty. If a great chief had been taken away they could not have felt it more. But Owistok knew nothing of this. Very early that morning, it seemed to her, she had been awakened by the song of a bird, such a sweet song as she had never heard before. She rose up from her couch feeling strong and well, quite well, without any weariness or ache or pain at all ; and she rose into a lovely summer day. What she wanted was to see the bird that had roused her with its song ; and there it was, with crested head and shoulder tufts and plumes and long curling tail feathers of every rainbow colour, perched upon a tree beside her. She chirruped to the winged beauty as she used to do to the little snowbirds, and, like the tamest among them it came to her shoulder. 62 THE INDIAN OJRL AND THE FLOWERS. and even to her hand. Then it would fly on a little before her, singing when it stopped, to invite her to follow. So on they went along the sandy beach and among the forest trees, tho bird leading her such a race as she had never run, all in the bright sunlight too, and yet she was as fresh and strong as when they started. Then she saw that the bird must be leading her somewhere, and did not wonder at it, because the pretty creature seemed so wise. Gladly she followed and answered back its song with a voice as s^veet and a heart as full of joy. \ Owistok and her little leader came at last away from the lakeshore and the forest into a field of brightest green. Then the bird soared up towards the sky, and as her oye followed him she saw, reaching far overhead, the rainbow arch she had sought before in vain. It was firm and solid as if made of great transparent stones of every colour, and she longed to set her feet upon it that she might give another proof how real and true things beautiful were. The bird came down again and led her in a short time to the foot of the arch which was not resting upon the ground, but built upon a solid foundation that went down, how deep nobody can tell. She set her foot upon it, trembling a little at first, as she thought of disappointments before. But it was firm and solid as the everlasting hills, and soon she was running and skipping like a fawn up its gentle incline. She saw the world beneath her growing very small as she ascended, and looking forward saw the great white clouds that had seemed so small when viewed from the earth, spreading out on every side. In a little while she was among the clouds that looked like a great expanse of snow with little points of golden sun- light shining everywhere upon its surface. But it was neither cloud noi snow ; it was a great mass of flowers, white, many- THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. 63 petaled flowers, with p;olden-yellow hearts and great green leaves floating beneath them. Long purple and steel- coloured dragon flies and beautiful little birda flitted here and there and hovered over the blossoms which lay before her feet like a sea. O what joy filled the little girl's heart ! She had found the colour that would grow. It was only white, indeed, and they had the white snow and the white bark of the paper birch down in the Indian village, but they had no flower like this. She touched the blossoms ; they too were real. She smelt their fragrance, sweeter than that of the Indian grass or the marsh hay in summer harvest time. Tenderly her fingers grasped the strong flower stalk that she might bring the lovely blossom closer to her face, that she might press it to her heart. She did not break the stem, but it came away in her hand as if it were a living, thinking and loving thing that knew how she loved it and wanted to come to her embrace. So one and another and another came to her until her arms were full, and the bundle of blossoms was large enough for her bird friend to perch upon and there warble his sweetest songs. Thus, with fra- grant white lilies beneath and around her and clasped to her bosom, she went on her way over the rainbow arch. Owistok passed over the great field of lilies after a while and saw the blue sky before her. She began to be afraid that the arch ended here, but the bird went forward sing- ing gaily to let his little companion know there was nothing to fear. Then she regained her courage and went on to the point where the white ended and the blue began. Here was another joyful surprise. People might call the blue by the name sky or any other name they liked, but it was a bed of flowers all the same. Far as the eye could reach the flowers grew, blue as the waters she had tried to take into 64 THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWEIiS. her hand. They were of two kinds : one rising, out of a sheathing leaf shaped Hke an Indian arrowhead, into a long spike around which the blue blossoms thickly clustered; and the other with a leaf like the bulrush, out of which sprang a straight and narrower stem crowned with three large showy petals that curled outwards and downwards from the golden throat like tongues. What could the little girl do with these new riches, brighter than the blue bird's feather she had held in her hand last night ? Her arms were full already of the beautiful lilies. Then the thought of the feather made her think of the old chief's request, and her promise to remember the people she had loved and send them colours that would grow. So she looked down through a rift between the lilies and the flowers of blue, and saw the village from which she had come and the bay on the shore of which it was built just beneath. Kissing the flowers tenderly and breathing their fragrance again, she dropped them one by one through the rift in the sky, bidding them each go and make her friends happy and the world beauti- ful. Then she gathered the blue as she had gathered the white, till her arms were full, and went forward on her way. That night, though it was all day to Owistok, tho people of the Indian village said that they saw stars falling from the sky. Many of the braves were frightened, bat the old chief was glad, and said to himself, "Our little snowbird has kept her promise." . - . " If I have found such beautiful flowers already," thought Owistok, " what a lovely land of flowers there must be before me !" So she went forward with great hope in her heart. The walking had been very easy and pleasant so far, but now it seemed easier than ever. She had reached the top of the arch and was going down towards the western sky. THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. 6$ Soon that western sky burst upon her in all its glory. Only at sunset had she ever seen anything half so beautiful. A great field of crimson, yes of crimson blossoms, lay before her, and her bird was singing as if his heart were nigh break- ing for joy. Just such a great joy sprang up in her own breast. She did not believe now in things of beauty, she did not hope any longer ; she knew, and the knowledge made her so happy that if she had been the same little Indian girl Owistok she thought she was, there would have been no room in her little body for the treasures of that happiness. She came to the crimson field. O lovely blossoms ! now dark and rich, now bright and glowing, with your expanded wings and long tails like birds of Paradise ready to fly away from your nest of light green leaves, with what bliss you filled that young child's heart ! The white was pure and fragrant, the blue fresh and beautiful, but the crimson is warm and generous ; it is her own colour, the colour of the love she shewed on earth so well. It makes her think of the loved ones, of the dark-haired maidens whom the flower would become, of the little children whom its beauty would attract in their most wayward mood, and of the old people who could place it before them in their homes as an image of the love that once had been and was to be theirs again in the Spirit Land. So she drops the blue blossoms one by one over the edge of the rainbow arch, and again with her prayers they fall like shooting stars down into the bay near the home where grief is not yet silent. Her arms full of the crimson-scarlet flowers, Owistok goes forward, no longer treading the flowers down, but car- ried along as if she were a bird with wings ; and as she goes, the flowers appear more beautiful, the sunlight brighter, the world perfectly full of happiness. Not her one bird that led '' -' 5 ^ . ,-_,.■ -- 6$ THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. her from the humble Indian cabin, but along with him a thousand of brighter phmiage and sweeter song keep her company ; and as she nears the end of the rainbow arch she hears wonderful notes like human voices bidding her wel- come to everlasting joy. She has come to the end of the arch — no, not to the end, for the road seems to have no end, but to the point where it leaves the world out of view, and now is her only chance if she would share with her friends below the treasures which have made her so glad. Still she can see the village, a little speck in the far off distance, and somehow she does not want to go back again. Besides, the morning is not half over yet. It is hard to part with these red flowers, but then she thinks of her promise and her friends. Down they go, therefore, another heavenly shower, and she gazes over the arch to see theui fall safely and very near her old home. Then she rises with nothing in her hands, and glad she is that it is so. For before her is a golden gate wide open, and within the gate are flowers and trees so beautiful, so fragrant, so full of blessed life, that no tongue can tell, no pen can write a word about them that would be half the truth. But why she is glad to be empty- handed is because some one she has seen in her dreams, and who seems to spring out of the rainbow arch itself, folds her in arms of such love that her own arms are not empty enough to throw around his neck, while he carries the little snow-bird into the heart of the happy land. That night the old chief looks forth himself and sees the shower of meteors falling from the sky. " Owistok is thinking of us," he says to himself ; " soon we shall see brighter things than my three feathers." A long year passes away. The summer goes, and the corn harvest follows ; the winter hunting season gives place THE INDIAN ami AND TIIK FLOW K US. 67 to the spring sugar-making, and then summer comes again. Through that year there was one Owistok lying in the ground under the forest trees, and another up over the rain- how arch in the happy land. But Owistok under the trees saw nothing, felt nothing, thought nothing either good or bad, while Owistok in the happy land was full to overflowing of the blessed life. The day came round in the Indian vil- lage when the little girl went away just a year before. The old chief could not bear to stay at home that day, so he went down to the beach and pushed his canoe out into the water, and then paddled away through the long shallow bay into the great lake. There was not a cloud overhead, and the waters were as blue as the sky above. The sun was brightly shining, but a light breeze helped to make its heat pleasant, and rocked the little bark with the gently rippling waves it stirred. For a long time the old man paddled to and fro thinking of Owistok, and wondering if the land to which she had gone was more beautiful than the world he was in just then. " It is time my little snow-bird kept her pro- mise," he said to himself, as he paddled home again. Soon he reached the bay and saw the village near its end. But as he skirted the bay not very far from the shore, he felt some- thing that seemed to stop the way of the canoe, as a long fishing-line held out from it or a Hoating branch would do. He put his hand over the side as he turned the canoe half round and caught hold of something soft and slippery. He pulled it in and found a great green leaf, quite round with a narrow slit at one point running half way through till it met the stalk. This was something new. Balancing himself care- fully, the old chief peered with his dim eyes over the side of his frail craft, and saw other leaves like the first. But he saw more j in the midst of them was a flower, a growing 68 Tin: in in as hihl ami the ti.nwKns. colour, while with a golden heart ; and there was another, and yet another, tloatiiig on the surface of the water hke ivory cups and spreading tlieir fragrance far and wide. '* Oh," he cried, " if my httle Owistok were only here, what a hajjpy child I should see ! what a bringer of joy this poor old useless man might become I" And then he bethought himself, and said: "But why should I grieve,. for it is my little snowbird who has kept her promise and sent us down these pure flowers so like herself." Soon the bow of the canoe was full of water lilies, and the wrinkled, grey-haired chief was smiling towards them like a child. He was near home now, and in a little n-hile there would be joy and gladness in r'l the village he thought, and the people would remember ti.e little girl who went away a year ago. He left the water lilies behind him, but still there was something that rubbed softly against the sides of his boat. Again his hand went over the gunwale, and this time up came a stalk with a broad green arrow for a leaf and a great spike of blue blossoms, so blue that the water looked pale beside them. " Owislok has kept her promise," the old man almost shouted, as he gathered in the flowers of the pickerel weed. Nearer still to the shore he found a few late blossoms of the blue iris that flowe; s usually much earlier in the season. Then the canoe grated gently on the sandy beach full of floral treasures. He lands and walks a step forward, intending to call the boys and girls, that they may carry the treasures home, when his eye, dim as it is, falls on a little patch of green not far from the water's edge, which he has never seen there before. He stoops his aged form towards it. It is green below, indeed, but above it is the colour of blood, of the moon rising through the smoke, of the glorious evening sky. So, with a cry that echoes through the village and all Tin: lyiHAS a mi. Asn rm: flow Kits. 69 along the shores of the bay, a cry of'' Owistok, Owistok, you have kept your word," he gathers in the scarlet and crimson harvest of the cardinal flower. Everybody runs down to the beach, the braves and the young men, the scjuaws, the girls, and even the children. 'I'hey have heard the old chief's words and think that Owistok has come back again. .Some, therefore, are much disappointed when they find the aged warrior radiant with joy among the blossoms. The braves look out u])on the bay with its lining of lily pads and pickerel flowers, and declare that the fishing is ruined, and that game will never come near such a tangle of water weeds. A few careful sfiuaws want to know if the flowers are good to eat, and when the old chief indignantly answers that that is not what they are for, they go away un- concerned. But the children ! how they revel in the colours, and ask fora yellow-hearted lily or pinky-white bud, for an iris, and, almost tremblingly as if it were too much to ask, for a single blossom of the cardinal flower. Then away they go with their prizes and bathe their youn^ souls in the new-found vision of loveliness. The girls braid the long stalks in each others' hair, letting the flowers hang so skilfully that it is hard to tell which is the more becoming to these dark-eyed maidens, the pearly white or the deep sky-blue or the blood-red living ornament. Many a young man, too, does not disdain to break a thorn from a tree or take a porcupine quill from his dress, and with it pin to his hunting shirt ot deerskin one of the tokens of Owistok's love. And the good old squaws, whose steps are feeble and their backs bowed with long years of hard work, pick up a flower here and there till one hand is full, then carry them home and set them in an unused broken cup, where the weary eye may be rested by the sight of them, and with their fragrance and beauty some joy may enter the heart. fP THE INI) I A N GlltL A ND TIIK, FL WEIiS. " If our snow-bird can sec us, how happy she must be," thought the old chief, as he entered the house with an armful of treasures. But he did not know that the Great Spirit was looking down and rejoicing in the joy of his children. That summer had been from the beginning very dry, so that away from the water the grass was parched and the leaves were commencing to shrivel on the trees. There were forest fires at many points on the lake. You could smell the smoke of them in the air and feel its smart in your eyes ; but the breeze kept it away from the village. Such a breeze was blowing gently again, when next day the old chief with a heart full of loving thoughts about his little snow-bird, paddled forth into the lake. But before he had gone far the wind died away, and suddenly, like a great grey pall, the smoke came down on every side. So dense was it that he could hardly see the bow of his canoe, and everything else was hidden from sight. Not even the sun, which often on smoky days he had perceived like a little red ball in the heavens, could pierce his way through the haze, or perhaps through the clouds above it. The chief was all alone. He thought of the way he had come and tried to return upon his track. Hour after hour passed away, but he .:aw no sign of land, touched no rock, felt nothing but the water which he dashed with his paddle and the blinding smoke that made his aged eyes smart with pain. Fiercely he struggled along, careless whether he wrecked his little craft or no, the perspiration streaming from his forehead with the violent efforts he was making. Yet he came no nearer home. He knew that night had come though he could see no stars, and all through that night he toiled until his strength was well-nigh spent. Then he lay down in his canoe and washed his aching eyes and waited for day. As the old chief waited, he thought of Owistokand of the THE INDIAN GIRL AND THE FLOWERS. 7 1 flowers she had sent down, which came like stars from heaven. Then he said to himself that the little snow-bird could never have found hei way alone to the place where the flowers grew The Great Spirit must have guided her safely and very quickly, since the falling meteors came so soon. So he looked up to where he knew the sky was, though he could not see it, and he prayed " Great Spirit, guide a poor old man, as you guided my lost Owistok home." Then he rose and took his paddle once more. And lo ! a star shot down, from what point in the heavens he could not tell, but it fell some distance in front of him. Towards the spot where the star seemed to fall he paddled his canoe. After he had gone a little space he felt something dragging or in some way hindering his course. He put his hand over the side and brought close up to his eyes the most welcome of all sights, a water lily. He put his paddle down its full length in the water to feel for the bottom, ' it the paddle could not fathom the water's depth. Nevertiieless he knew that the bottom was not far off and that land was near. Carefully now he felt his way, never leaving the bed of water lilies, though sometimes he went back and sometimes forward among them. Again in his heart he prayed '' Lead me," and this time it was the blue flower of the pickerel weed which his hand grasped and brought into the canoe before his rejoicing eyes. " I shall soon be home now," he said, for the blue flower put hope into his heart. Now it was the pickerel weeds he would not leave. Sometimes they carried him back to the water lilies, and sometimes to the open water, but again and again he tried among them for the shore. At last his hand went forth and clutched another plant. He brought it up to his face and shouted for joy ; for its colour was that of the car- dinal flower, and he knew that it grew on the land. "Safe f§ THh' INDIAN (IIUL AND Till: I'LOWHHS. at home," he cried, and rose to his feet, then stumbled and fell, Ijecaiise he was very weary. In an instant he was on his feci again. What a change in a single moment ! 'I'he smoke had cleared away, the sun was high in the heavens, and there, wonder of wonders, was Httle Owislok running to meet him, her arms all full of flowers, herself the loveliest (lower of them all. He told her so, as he tenderly embraced his snowbird found once more; but when she said that he was just as lovely and much nobler and grander, he would not beHeve, and said he was a poor old Indian whom the (ireat Spirit had made young. Then they went offhand in hand into the country of never- withering flowers and never fading joys, to begin the blessed life that knows no ending. In the Indian village, a squaw going down to the lake for water found the aged chief lying half out of the canoe, with his face upon the ground in the midst of the cardinal flowers. The men came down and carried him up to his house and laid him on his couch, but he never spoke again. They wondered much how he had found his way home through the thick smoke that still lay like a dense cloud over land and water, and why there was such a happy look upon his quiet face. Then one of the women pointed to his hands. There, half-crushed by the j^addle in the one hand lay a lily and a blue water weed, and in the other, fresh and whole, was the scariet-crimson blossom of the cardinal flower. " These have guided him over the waters," she said, " and something like them must have led him to a happier home." Since that day, long, long ago, many an Indian has found his way by means of the flowers that Owistok threw down from the sky. TIIH INhlAN (JlliL AN/) TU/'J I'UtWFJtS. 73 You would like to know what the flowers are, but I must first tell you what it is to he without the flowers and to want them. 'I'here is only One who is all true and beautiful and good, and that is (lod j and everything that is true and |)caiiliful and good comes from Him. He has given us much that is beautiful in this world, but not enough to satisfy us or make us truly happy. Many people never tliink of anything better than the pleasures of this world, or, if they do for a short time, do not allow the thought to change their life. lUit others, like little Owisiok, look away from earth to heaven. They see j)art of this heaven in their own hearts, which tell that (lod is pure and holy and good and that there is a blessed world beyond the grave for those who are like God. J kit the best and truest i)art of heaven they see in the Word of (iod, which shows us heaven itself and heaven shining on our earth in God's own Son and all the sons and daughters who have been made like Him. They long to have the glories of heaven, the beauty of holiness, in their own hearts airl in the hearts and lives of all men, so that the world may share the beauty of heaven. So, in answer to their prayers and to beautify them and fill them with joy, God gives them the three flowers. The first is Faith, the pure white lily with the golden centre, for our faith has no colour at all but is just a hand that holds God's golden gift and believes all He says. The next is Hope, blue as the sky overhead, because it oj)ens heaven before us. It is not one hope but many, like the pickerel weed and the iris ; hope of being with God, of being like God, of having a place in His kingdom, of meeting our lost ones there, and many precious things beside. And last of all comes Love, blood red like the cardinal flower, for it comes from the heart and it gives the life to God, as God gave His Son's 74 I'lH'^ INDIAN untL AND Till': FLOWHItS. life-blood for us. When this flower comes into our hearts our heavenly l)OU(iuet is complete. Faith tell.i us that (iod and heaven are near and are ours, though we do not .sec them ; Hope tells us we are getting nearer, and paints before our eyes the joys of heaven ; Love tells us that heaven is begun, for it is the spirit of Jesus Christ, the great Lord of heaven, in our hearts. Then let us live like the little Indian girl, so that through our lifetime the world may see these flowers adorning us and thus desire them, and that, when we at last cross the rainbow arch into heaven, the memory we leave behind may be like the blos- soms which led the old chief to home and peace. And, above all, let us remember the flower that grows on solid ground. Few can know your faith, fewer still your hope, but love is visible to all. Therefore the Bible says : '* The greatest of these is charity." V. Mv a^ijmcv'a «jetwice tor (l5oa. V. S>ix ^xjmct^si Service for (^od. "Inasmuch as ya have done it unto one of tlic least of these my bietlircn, yc have done it unto me." — Matthew xxv. 40. Squire Aymer was the only son of a French nobleman, who lived in the old days of chivalry. He was a goodly youth, tall, and straight as an arrow, handsome in feature, strong and l>rave ; he was courteous in his manners, kind and generous to all, yet withal so full of lofty pride that he could not bear the thought of anyone having a higher aim in life than himself. As he had come to manhood's years it was time for him to drop the title of squire and take that of knight. Indeed he had already done many a knightly deed and well deserved the honour which, ut any rate, was due to Ills father's son. But his loving father was an old man and feeble. He could not go with Aymer to the king's court and say to the monarch, " Here is my son whom I wish to be made a knight." One day, however, a visitor came to the castle and told them of a great court day soon to be iield, when knights and squires from all parts of T'rance were to appear and tilt against one another with spears before the king and queen and all the lords and ladies of the land. Ricli prizes were to be given to the best tilters, and the young squires who did well in the ring were to be made knights by the king himself. When Aymer heard this he made up his mind to go to the court. His father gave his 78 sin AYMKH'S SEHVICh: F