;-NRLF 14 32fl ISfl MERRY'S BOOK TALES AND STOKIES. EDITED BY UNCLE MERRY. NEW-YORK: H. DAYTON, No. 36 HOWARD STREET. INDIANAPOLIS, IND. : ASHER & CO. 1860. Univ. Libraiy, DC Santa Croz 1999 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by H. DAYTON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York J. J. Rsun, PRINTER &. STERKOTVPEH, 43 & 45 Centre Street, CONTENTS. PAGB The Birth-Day Party, 18 Coming Through the Hay, 24 Pic-Nics, 29 The Bright Shilling, 37 Robin Hood, 42 How Edward Sharp Got Cured of his Faults, 49 The Yellow Rose, ,... 52 The Lost Puzzle, 63 The Sleigh Ride, 70 An Adventure, 83 The Three Wishes, 86 The Courtship of the Stork-Cailif, 98 The New Skates, 123 Little Alice, a Story for Christmas, 132 A Visit from St. Nicholas, 137 The Legend of King Robert of Sicily, 139 The Sailor Youth, 152 The Little Sailor Boy,. 170 An Exquisite Story by Lamartine fc 177 Woolsey Bridge ; or the Boy Bachelor, 180 Tale of the Three Spinners, , 215 Somebody not pleased with His Name, 221 Turkish Titles 233 The Old English Village Pastor, 234 A Warning, 239 PAQK Frontispiece, 2 The Birth-Day Party, 13 Flowers, 19 A Frolic in the Fields, 25 ThePic-Nic, 29 The Vine Arbor, 31 The Swing, 33 The May Queen, , 35 The Dolls, 38 Telling the Story, 40 Child Amidst the Flowers at Play, 41 Robin Hood and Little John, 43 How Edward Sharp Got Cured of His Faults, 51 Gardening,. 53 Among the Roses, 61 The Orator, 87 The Stork, 104 The Ruins, Ill The Owl, 113 The Pleasures of Winter, 123 The Christmas Tree, 132 The Village Church, 152 The Pilot, 170 The Ocean, 172 A Storm at Sea, 174 The Crags, 176 Till ENGRAVINGS. MM The Stranded Ship, , 176 An Exquisite Story by Lamartine, 178 Woolsey House, 180 Going to School, 183 Leaving Home, 192 The Monks, 197 Tale of the Three Spinners, 216 Spinning, 219 The Spinning Wheel, 220 The Village Pastor, 234 The Pastor Listening to the News, 237 Lizzie in the Garden, . . .238 PREFACE. is stranger than fiction." And true stories JL if well told, are not only better and more in- structive, but more entertaining than fictitious ones. We do not mean to say that all the stories in this volume are true in all their details ; but they are true in this, that they speak truly of the habits and feelings of children and youth, and illustrate truly the tempta- tions and dangers to which they are exposed, and the duties they are required to perform, or they relate some interesting fact in natural history. We think that no story can be truly amusing even which has not some good lesson in it which does not justly represent some peculiar aspect of our life, some trait of character, some natural incident of human history, or some fact in the history and habits of the animal creation. We are quite sure that our young friends will agree with us in this ; and that any of them would much prefer a plain tale of truth to the most glowing pictures of fairies and X PREFACE. they have seen, without the trouble and expense of visiting them in person. This is a very profitable and interesting kind of reading, and one that never tires. It affords a great variety of information and pleasure. We learn geography from the description of the coun- tries, and the seas, the rivers, the lakes, and the moun- tains, which the traveler explores. We learn history from his accounts of the country and its people na- tural history from his description of the animals, birds, &c. botany from his account of the trees, and plants, and flowers, and so on adding to all our stores of knowledge, in proportion as our traveler is particular and accurate in describing all he sees. Travels, voy- ages, and adventures, are always found to be interest- ing and acceptable to the young. We trust they will be pleased with what we have given them here. We know with what great delight and profit the whole Merry family followed Peter Parley in his " Balloon Travels," visiting some of the most prominent and in- teresting places in the world, and becoming acquainted with a great many things they had never heard of be- fore. And we know how sorry they were when the travels came to an end. We have often wished we had a balloon of our own, that we might take them all out on another excursion in some of the unvisited re- PREFACE. XI gions of the earth. As soon as we can find one that can be safely trusted to carry so large and precious a family, we shall send out our invitations far and wide, and a glorious time we will have. Till then, we shall do all we can to supply the place of a personal visit, by giving the best that we can find of the travels and voy- ages of others that is to say, those best adapted to the tastes and capacities of young persons. And now, a word of advice, in reading travels and voyages. Always endeavor to put yourself in the place of the traveler. Make yourself fully acquainted with his descriptions, so that you can bring distinctly before your mind the places he visits. Take your maps, and trace out his course, and find all the places he men- tions. Recollect all you have ever read about them before. Imagine yourself in the place of the writer ; enter into his feelings, and then you will be prepared to understand all he says, to remember it, and profit by it. And then too you will derive the greatest possible pleasure from all that he is disposed to tell you. This is particularly necessary in the reading of personal adventures, feats of daring and danger, hair-breadth escapes, &c. It is impossible fully to understand and appreciate them, without, for the time we are reading them, putting ourselves, as it were, in the place of him who writes or relates them. of Salts rah THE BIRTFT-DAY PARTY, FAR from the city and the " busy haunts of men," in the little village of B , lived Annie Cam- eron, a blithe, gay child, who had never as yet known sorrow, or shed a tear for aught else than perchance for the committal of some slight fault, or over the death of some antiquated pet. She with her mother lived in a rose-embowered cottage, where 14 MERRY'S BOOK OF the brilliant humming-bird ever was welcome, and where the summer breezes gently shook the leaves or played with Annie's long curling hair, and any one that had seen her for the first time when I did, would have thought that the wind used it as a play- thing pretty often. She had been out with a party of little friends gathering strawberries, and many a stain here and there betrayed her occupation, her cheeks doing their best to rival the rich color of the fruit. Her dress was caught up, not ungracefully, but certainly un- knowingly, by a piece of briar- rose which had clung to her during her ramble. Her long curls were blown back from her face in wild confusion, while a wreath of field flowers, strung together with the united taste of the strawberry party, held her hair in unwilling bondage. I had arrived at B that afternoon on a visit to my mother's old friend, Mrs. Cameron, and I had been listening to a parent's description of her only child just as the door flew open, and in rushed the whole flock eager to tell of their frolic and adven- tures. All stopped at the sight of a stranger except Annie, who sprang forward to her mother, throwing a large bouquet into her lap, and then turning to me said, " I suppose as you are mamma's friend, you are mine, too, are you not ?" and a smiling assent soon made us as familiar as old acquaintances. Annie introduced many of her little companions TALES AND STORIES. 15 to me, and I was soon in earnest conversation with Lizzie and Herbert Gray, Julia Lunt, James Ward, and I do not know how many others, each anxious to tell of the afternoon's fun in his own words. Lizzie Gray said she knew where all the finest straw- berries that her brother had picked were to be found, and she laughingly pointed to a little basket made' of oak leaves, well filled with the largest and reddest wood-strawberries I have ever seen. The basket bore on it the name of Annie, pricked in the leaves with a pin, and she soon claimed her property. The little party now separated, and we were left to ourselves. Tea was served, and Annie seating herself at the head of the table, presided as demure- ly as an old housekeeper, and when we had left the table and drawn to the window to watch the glow- ing sunset, she rang the bell, and the neat maid- servant brought her in a little tub, mop, and nap- kin, with which she carefully washed and wiped the silver tea-set, and put it carefully away not till then did she join us at the window. Mrs. Cameron and I talked about old times, and she told me of her intimacy with my mother when a girl. She told me of their studies and pleasures, of their duties and amusements ; her mother combined the useful with the agreeable in the education of her children, and rigidly insisted upon duty before pleasure. She thought that " all work and no play," and " all play and no work," were equally 16 MERRY'S BOOK OF wrong, and would surely " make Jack a dull boy." Among others of her childish pleasures, Mrs. Came- ron mentioned a little party her mother once gave, in which all her young friends were dressed in the costume of some country, each character telling something of her presumed home, of its situation, climate, habits, &c., thus giving a series of geo- graphical lessons, at the same time instructive and amusing. We were highly entertained by Mrs. Cameron's account, and Annie said, " Oh ! mamma, why not let rne have a little party on my birth-day, and let us dress in costume, too, it will be so new and interesting to us all, and you know next week vacation begins, so that it shall not interfere with our lessons ; I will not even mention it till then, and oh, what fun we should have ! Minnie, plead with and for me, won't you ?" Who can resist a request from an only child, when the request is reasonable and proper, and when the bright eyes and happy face of that only child are looking so earnestly into yours ? Not Mrs. Cameron certainly, for though like her mother rigid in enforcing duty, she likewise delighted in giving pleasure. The assent was given, and Annie performed a pi- rouette, which soon brought her panting to her seat. " Annie," said h< r mother, " I have several condi- tions to make as regards this little party. 1st. Nothing new shall be bought for any dress. I do not like useless or frivolous expense. 2dly. Your TALES AND STORIES. 17 characters shall all be kept secret, and I will have you announced as you enter the room. 3dly. The party shall commence and close early. I do not wish to be reproached by heavy eyes and aching heads on the morrow. 4thly. Your birth-day comes on Saturday, and as I do not wish to have your Sunday's duties mingled with the thoughts of your pleasure, we will postpone the party until the fol- lowing Tuesday. Now to bed, and sleep soundly." And with a good-night kiss was Annie off to dream of strawberry parties and birth-day parties until morning. The few days before vacation flew rapidly by, and studying hard and sewing more industriously than ever, the promised pleasure only made her the more desirous of deserving it, and her lips conned their lessons, and her needle flew in and out, taking rapid but small stitches. Vacation came, and the very day it began, Annie and I wrote about thirty invitations, in which all the parents of the invited children were begged to be present, and soon Annie's birth-day party was the talk and anticipation of the village. The young people met but little during the week of pre- paration. Youthful faces were full of bright thought, and little fingers were busy in shaping and sewing. Dark closets were ransacked, and old-fash- ioned garments again saw the light. In the search, missing and lost articles were found, and everything 18 MERRY'S BOOK OF was dragged out, and scanned, and discussed, and ingenuity was taxed to turn every thing to account for the eventful day. Mrs. Cameron, Annie, and I, worked like beavers. Herbert Gray came several times during the week, and he and Annie had evidently some plan together of which I knew nothing, nor could I learn any- thing. I asked but once, and for answer received a roguish laugh from Annie, as she tantalized me with my ignorance. Mrs. Cameron was, however, soon admitted to be one in the secret, for unless her mother was consulted, Annie would not think any plan good, or likely to succeed. The evening came. Mrs. Cameron and I lighted the lamps and candles, wiped away every stray grain of dust, arranged garden flowers in the parlor, and field flowers on the supper table. We then gave one last look at Annie as she stood ready dress- ed for her first party, and then went down to receive the company, for we already heard voices in the hall. The parents all arrived first as requested, in order that even the first comers might find spectators awaiting them. A quarter of an hour elapsed, and then, after sev- eral rings at the door-bell, a smothered laugh, and a good deal of ohing and ahing, the door was thrown open, and one by one, as they were announced, in came the expected characters. A graceful figure, draped in black gauze, entered TALES AND STORIES. 19 the door. Her head was covered with a long veil spangled with silver stars, and a crescent moon formed the front of the crown which encircled her brow. Upon one shoulder sparkled a diamond star, with a silver anchor beneath it. On the other, be- neath gauzy pink clouds, shone an equally liquid star. All this I saw at a glance, as the figure mov- ed sedately across the room : and I knew that the dark-eyed Lizzie Gray personated " Night." I knew that the manner's hope and guide the "North Star," and Venus, the "Evening Star," shone in bright rivalry on her shoulders. 20 MERRY'S BOOK OF After her, in rapid succession, came a flower-girl presenting a fragrant bouquet to all ; a gleaner with an apron-full of wheat ; and a sailor-boy, who looked as ruddy as an old sea-captain. We waited a moment, and then the door opened again, and a voice, which I knew to be that of James Ward, announced "an indigent individual who received no invitation, Holla Gray, Esq. ;" and in walked the great Newfoundland on his hind legs, with a white cap and apron on, looking the cook to perfection. We had a hearty laugh at his appearance, and dis- missed him to his proper place, the kitchen, where due attention was paid to his appetite. Visitors were now constantly arriving, and many and various were the costumes ; but not to make my stoiy too long, I will only tell of the most striking. Julia Lunt, with powdered hair and a rich bro- cade dress, high-heeled shoes, a short waist, a long train, and one or two little black patches upon her face, made an excellent and graceful court beauty. Ellen Morris was a tiny Ked Hiding Hood, with a most tempting display of cheese-cakes, and a little pat of butter, which she had herself churned for Mrs. Cameron. The announcing of " The Spoiled Child" attracted our attention, and James Ward came in. His hair was in twenty snarls, his face was streaked with dirt, and his eyes red with apparent weeping. He had a half-eaten apple in one hand, and a stick of candy in the other. Behind him came his nurse TALES AND STORIES. 21 (Ellen Ward) trying to coax him to be dressed ; and soon after his mother (Laura Lunt), alarmed by his angry cries, came running in with the sugar-bowl. Nothing, however, would do : he would neither be appeased or dressed ; and finally, in a paroxism of passion, was taken out of the room, and did not re- turn as The Spoiled Child." This little scene amused us very much : but I thought there were one or two mothers who looked rather conscious, and they must have learned a les- son that evening. When James came back, little Ellen jumped up, and began " Fy ! " Not wish to be washed ! Not wish to be clean ! But rather go dirty ! Not fit to be seen!" Which sent James, apparently overcome with shame, into a corner. I was beginning to wonder where Annie could be, and was upon the point of asking for her, when a voice, weak from age, but very sweet, was heard singing : " Pity the sorrows of a poor old man "Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store." We all ran to the window, and throwing open the blinds, saw standing in the moonlight an old man bent with age, his gray head uncovered, and his tot- 22 MERRY'S BOOK OF tering form supported by a little girl, whose tatter- ed, though clean dress, and smoothed hair bespoke at once her poverty, and a desire to make the best of her little all. The two, seeing the sympathizing looks of all, now approached the window, and on Mrs. Cameron's asking them if they did not sing together, they be- gan the following : Oh ladies bright and fair, Of gentle mien and air, Who know nor grief nor care, Take pity ! We ask but a slight gift, Oh give a helping lift, Down Sorrow's stream we drift, Oh hear our dity ! 'Tis good from your full measure Of fortune and of treasure, To give relief and pleasure To the poor ! Then list unto our prayer, Some answer through the air, Will mount to realms more fair, Be sure ! The blended voices ceased ; and all hearts were touched, and purses opened, and many were the bright pieces that found their way into the box passed round by the little girl. We counted the money ; there were three dollars and forty-two cents ! The grateful singers bowed low, and methought, as they gave thanks, the old TALES AND STORIES. 23 man's form looked less bent, his eye more piercing. Methought the little girl looked more gay, and I started was I mistaken? No! for, throwing away false hair, rags, staff, and all but the money box, the beggars (Herbert Gray and Annie Cameron) stood revealed in Scotch costume. Nothing was wanting, the tartan and the plaid, the heron plume and the maiden snood, Scotland's thistle and the kilt all were there ; and the bright and happy couple were the hero and heroine of the evening. All were now assembled ; and gaily flew the hours, dancing, singing, and music all lent their aid. The supper table was loaded with the good things of this world, and the jellies and candied fruits, cakes, and ices, all spoke of Mrs. Cameron's housely hand. Every thing had been made at home. The mammoth bouquet in the middle of the table was the offering of the poor children of the village, who, on the next day, all received some of the evening's entertainment. The money collected was bestowed upon a suffer- ing and needy woman, whom Mrs. Cameron well knew as a hard-working and worthy object for relief, and more than the mere partakers in it enjoyed the remembrance of Annie Cameron's birth-day party. 24 MERRY'S BOOK OF " COMING THROUGH THE HAY/' HARLIE and the boys had been doing their utmost to finish the job, and get in all the hay before dark, as they were to have the next day for holiday. The mea- dow was well-nigh cleared. One or two loads more would take it all, and yet the sun was a full hour high. " We'll do it, Charlie," said William to his bro- ther, " and have ample time to get all our fixing ready this evening." " You may as well say it is done already," replied Charles, " for there is time enough, and a will. So we will have to-morrow for a party to the Lake." " That we will," cried Fanny, rushing out from behind the great tree, where she had paused a mo- ment to learn what her cousins were so earnestly talking about, as they stopped in their work and leaned upon their rakes for a single moment " That we will, Coz, and Mary, and Lucy, and two or three more of the girls, will be here soon to have a little consultation about the matter." TALES AND STORIES. 25 " I am afraid," said Charles, keeping steadily at work while he talked, "you will only hinder our work, so that we shall not finish it up to-night, and so shall not be able to go at all." " So ho I" exclaimed Fan, with a wild, musical laugh, that was peculiar to her, " if we hinder you a bit, we will help you more. We will turn to, all of us, and toss, rake, or pitch ; and if we three 26 MERRY'S BOOK OF girls don't beat any three of you boys, we will pay the forfeit, that's all." Mary and Lucy now came up, with two or three more of the same sort. At the same moment, the wagons returned from the barn, and the boys were all on the ground. Discussion ran high. There was no moderator, no rules of debate. Two, three, and four would speak at the same time, while laughter and joke filled up all the gaps. After a time William succeeded in getting some- thing like order, so as to be heard. The plan was all laid out, and a part in the arrangements assigned to each one, to which each and all assented. There were lots of things to be done. Cakes, and pies, and fruits, and all the et cetera, were to be got ready. "It will be midnight before we get through with all these preparations/' said Charles. "Now hurry away, all of you, and let us get in the rest of the hay." " We'll have a bit of dance first," said Fanny, with a mischievous laugh. " Here, George, out with your flageolet, and blow away briskly. We have no time to lose." Suiting the action to the word, she seized Charles by the hand, threw down his rake, and drew him under the shade of the great tree. " So be it," cried two or three of the boys, and choosing each his partner, soon filled up the set. TALES AND STORIES. 27 Merrily, merrily they tripped the light fantastic, as if there were no work to be done, no preparations for the morrow to be made. " Begone, dull care/' seemed to smile on every face, and speak from every eye. Meanwhile, some who did not dance did some- thing else made love under the trees, as Ben and Susy are doing, or looked on with downright sym- pathy on the fun, but with a grave wish that the hay was in, .as Jerry, that old fellow on the left, is doing, and with a sober thought of the cakes and pies, as prudent Charlotte is doing on the right. Well, the dance came to an end, and the day was coming to an end too, and Charlie and William sprang to their rakes. "Come, boys, now set to with a will," exclaimed old Jerry. " Only twenty minutes to sundown, and two good loads to get in yet." Where there's a will, there's a way. Oh ! what marvels of work were done in those twenty minutes I There was a will in the work, and all worked to that one will. The girls took hold, as if they knew how. They raked the hay in heaps, they carried it in their arms, for want of forks, and then they mounted the wagons, and spread and pressed the hay, in the best possible style. They worked like men, as Jerry said, evidently intending a first-rate compliment. But Fanny repudiated the comparison, as unworthy of her sex. The women, she said, could and would always beat the men, at any work they might under- 28 MERRY'S BOOK OF take. She therefore claimed that they worked like girls, and that was enough. Jerry yielded the point very gracefully, and declared he would like to hire a dozen such hands to help him, at the next haying. Fan offered her services, and those of Susy and Mary, free gratis for nothing, and begged he would give them one day's notice, when he wanted them. When the sun went dowp, the last load of hay was stowed away in the loft, and the boys were leading the horses to the brook. TALES AND STORIES. 29 PICNICS. JUNE is the very season for Picnics. Everywhere men, women and children, are planning and exe- cuting excursions. Strawberries, cream, nuts, crack- ers, cakes, lemons, ice, and all the et ceteras of good eating, are in pressing demand. Baskets, boxes and bags are enjoying unwonted popularity. Omnibuses, with feathers and flags for the horses ; steamboats with streamers, and wagons, carts, and nondescript vehicles of every form and size, are up for daily char- ter, and active competition ; and groves, orchards, 30 MERRY'S BOOK OF dells, glens and copses are sedulously explored, sur- veyed and discussed, as if millions were about to be staked in hopeful speculation. Then, as to lawns, laces, tissues, muslins, ribbons, flowers, jewels, and all that sort of thing ; time and words would fail, should we essay to speak of them. But of the hu- manities of the scene we may speak freely and know- ingly. Of these there are, as usual, every variety, from the octogenarian to the infant of days, white heads, gray heads/ black heads, brown heads, red heads, auburn heads, yellow heads, straw heads, round heads, flat heads, long heads and all sorts and sizes of heads. There is beauty and its opposites of all degrees and shades. There are simplicity and affectation, pride and grace, wisdom and folly, fun and pleasure, and all the countless phases and forms of character and condition, all huddled and jostled together, like the shines and shades in a kaleidescope, and producing, to the observant eye, just such phan- tasmagorean shapes and changes. It would be a study for a philosopher. But, being no philosopher, I will let that pass, and attend to the more palpable and material part of the scene, the outside enjoyment, which is all that I can reach at present. " The Grove" is a little paradise of a place, ana is now in its best possible condition. The trees are in all the leafy freshness and blossom of June. The grass, over which the scythe was passed a few days ago, is starting into new life, as soft and smooth as TALES AND STORIES. 31 a carpet of velvet. The walks are all clean, as if swept this morning for the occasion. The arbors and rustic seats are gay with vines and flowers. THE VINE ARBOR. The hirds are full of song and sweetness, and wholly unable to repress their exuberant joy, in view of the rich repast of crumbs of which they are evidently expectant, and which they seem perfectly willing to pay for beforehand, by notes which require no endor- sing, and which are always and everywhere current. The sky is clear and cloudless, though for the most part hidden from view by the luxuriant foliage of the 32 MERRY'S BOOK OF grove. The air is as delicious as the cool sea from which it comes, and the gardens of roses and acres of honeysuckles, over which it has passed, can make it. The company assembled are all pleased with themselves, with each other, with the day, the grove, and the occasion, and nothing seems wanting to com- plete their enjoyment. In a sweet little dell, overhung with heavy and fragrant foliage, a long low table has been placed. It is loaded with all the luxuries, and many of the substantials of the season, and arranged with exqui- site taste by hands formed only for the graceful and beautiful. Flowers and greens are sweetly inter- spersed with fruits and other dainties, and it is diffi- cult to tell whether the eye, the smell, or the taste, are most to be regaled. While this is being prepared, let us walk over the grounds and witness the various kinds of enjoyments which, in this simple way, are provided for so many. Here is a group of gay children playing at graces. Their hats are carefully tied up in the branches of the young saplings that nestle under the shadows of the larger trees. The many-colored hoops fly back and forth with a beautiful motion, and the attitude and action of the young performers are exceedingly graceful, picturesque, and well entitle this sport to the name by which it is called. Here we come to a party Of boys playing ball ; this open ground, outside the grove, is just the place for it, and the sport is TALES AND STORIES. 33 active, manly, and full of spirit, just adapted to de- velop a quick eye, a ready action, celerity of move- ment, alertness, precision, and an easy adaptation to unexpected emergencies. Health and happiness to THE SWING. you, boys, keep the ball in motion, while we pass on to this merry company of butterflies on the shady knoll yonder. Merry, indeed, and happy as larks, 34 MERRY'S BOOK OF playing hide and seek among the thick undergrowth, and behind the aged trees ; and here, in this quiet dell, is a young gipsy, telling fortunes, and keeping all the little ones around her in high glee, by the amusing and grotesque pictures she draws of their future. See at what a dizzy height that brave girl is swinging ; do not fear for her, the rope is strong and well secured in the crotches of two stout trees. The seat is a firm one, and a strong strap is passed round in front, so that she cannot fall out. Let the pendulum vibrate, with its living weight at the bot- tom ; so life itself vibrates between the extremes of joy and sorrow, then wanes and stops, and gives way to another, and another, and another. Heigho ! that thought has too much shadow for this time and place, let us pass into the sunshine again. Here is a boy with a burning glass, trying to set fire to the green grass, but it won't even smoke ; he wishes he had a little powder, but that, surely, would be out of place in a picnic. Here is a bright company, amu- sing themselves with a camera obscura, on which they are delighted to see all the groups and divisions of their gay party, their various movements, crossing and recrossing, their endless changes of position. u Aha !" says Charlie, " I do believe the whole grove and everybody in it, is shut up in that little box. I wish I could look inside." Well done, Charlie, look in arid learn, meanwhile we pass on to what is this ? a throne ! yes. and a TALES AND STORIES. 35 queen, and who knows how many lords and ladies, knights and fairies, nymphs, floras, and all sorts of THE MAY QUEEN. 36 MERRY'S BOOK OF bright and beautiful witches. What does this mean ? Hark, the trumpet sounds, summoning all the queen's loyal subjects to attend her coronation ; and lo ! they come, flying in from all directions. The swings are vacant, the grace hoops are hung on the trees, the ball is no longer in motion, the camera is painting the scene, with no one near to admire it, and all the world is here. The queen ascends the throne, kneel- ing on the lower step, as she goes up, to receive her crown of flowers. She addresses to her subjects a hope that they will enjoy and improve the day, so that the memory of it will be all sunshine and flow- ers. They reply in a sweet song to the " queen of flowers," which makes the grove ring and the distant hills echo, and startle all the birds to renew their songs. The queen thanks them for their kind wish- es, invites them to the feast, and leads the way. We follow and partake ; but to describe that feast, with its innocent mirth, its sweet effect upon heart and manners, its refining influence upon the rude, its harmonizing influence upon persons of different tastes and habits, and its generous interchange of kindly feelings between those in different ranks, who seldom meet elsewhere, is more than we shall at- tempt. We leave it to be imagined, or rather to be tried. Try it, parents ; try it, sabbath schools ; try it, neighborhoods ; you will find it a most happy blen- ding of utile cum dulce, in which the useful shall be altogether sweet, and the sweet altogether useful. TALES AND STORIES. 37 THE BRIGHT SHILLING. " It is more blessed to give than to receive." ff /^OME, Clara and Minnie, put up your dolls, \J dears ; it's getting quite dark, and only wants ten minutes to bed-time/' said Mrs. Anderson to her children, two merry little creatures of five and seven years old. The gentle Minnie obeyed the summons at once, saying to her sister, who seemed not to hear it, " Perhaps mamma will tell us a story, Clara, before we go to bed, if we tidy up quickly." " It must be a very short one, darling," replied mamma. " And a true one, please, ma," added Clara ; and in a few moments the two little ones had seated themselves on a large stool, at their mother's feet, and nestled their heads in her lap, while she related as follows :- " One day, while papa and 1 were staying in New York, last autumn, at Mrs. Steven's, I was walking through one of the narrow streets, with her little Emily (who is about your age, Minnie), by my side, when we saw a thin-faced, sorrowful-looking child, sitting on a doorstep, and binding a pair of shoes, stopping every now and then to wipe away the tears from her red and swollen eyes. " 'What's the matter, dear ?' I asked. "The little girl pointed to two merry children 38 MERRY S BOOK OF THE DOLLS. TALES AND STORIES. 39 who were laughing and chatting near, and burst into 'tears. At last she sobbed out : ' They're going to the great garden where the lions and tigers live, and will see lots of fine things, and I can go nowhere/ " ' How is that, my child ?' I said. " ' 'Cause they go to the Sunday-school, and mo- ther won't let me go. She makes me work the whole day ; and I'm so tired of sitting here always. And I can't go to the great garden without paying a lot of money. I've been saving farthings for it a long time, but they say there isn't half enough in this,' and she handed me a dirty little bag of small coppers. ' Mother said she'd give me a holiday to- day ; but 'tisn't of any good if I can't go anywhere. I don't know when I shall get one again.' " I felt Emily pull my dress once or twice while the poor child was speaking, and then she whispered : " ' My bright shilling, auntie ! will grandmamma be angry ?' te i But, Emily dear, I thought you were going to buy a Noah's Ark with that,' I said. "'I can do without it, auntie,' replied Emily. ' I'd much rather she should have the money ; she says she never saw any fine things. Do tell her to come and fetch it : it's in my red purse at home.' " How I wish you could have seen the poor little creature's beaming face and sparkling eyes, as Emily gave her the bright shilling an hour after our talk with her. You would not have recognized her as 40 MERRY'S BOOK OF the sorrowful, weeping child on the doorstep. But 1 scarcely think she looked happier than Emily, who skipped and jumped about the whole day, so that one would think she had just received a shilling instead of having given it away. She could think of nothing but the little girl and the great gardens. FELTERI TELLING THE STORY. " And now, darlings, my story is ended, and it is quite time these little eyes were shut." TALES AND STORIES. 41 " Oh, don't leave off yet, ma !" said Clara. " It's so interesting !" added Minnie. " Just tell us, dear ma, if the little girl enjoyed herself in the great gardens." " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Anderson, " very much, in- deed ; but it would take too long now to tell you all about that ; so good-night, darlings here comes Jane ;" and thanking their kind mamma for her lit- tle story, Clara and Minnie kissed her, and ran off to bed. A little word, in kindness spoken, A movement, or a tear, Has often healed the heart that's broken, And made a friend sincere. 42 MERRY'S BOOK OF ROBIN HOOD. person is very famous in old English history _L and the popular ballads and traditions of the country people of England. He is supposed to have lived in the twelfth century, during the reign of Richard, surnamed Cceur de Lion. When William duke of Normandy conquered England, and made himself king there, he intro- duced his Norman followers into the country, and gave them the lands of the conquered Saxons. These Norman chieftains were tyrannical and op- pressive towards the country people, driving them from their farms and houses, and compelling great numbers of them to seek refuge from their oppressors in the woods and solitary places. Here they lived in bands, enjoying a sort of wild independence, and encouraging each other to keep up the old Saxon national spirit. They subsisted by hunting deer and other game ; and sometimes they attacked the Norman chiefs and plundered them. In this man- ner they lived in a state of outlawry, the government being unable to expel them from their hiding-places. The most famous of these outlaws W 7 as Robin. Hood. He was born at the town of Locksley, in Nottinghamshire, and dwelt in the forest of Sher- wood. His favorite companions were Little John, and Friar Tuck ; the latter was said to be a monk, TALES AND STORIES. 43 ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN. 44 MERRY'S BOOK OF who officiated as Eobin Hood's chaplain. Eobin Hood himself is often called by the old chroniclers, Earl of Huntington, but it is doubtful whether he had any legal claim to this title ; his true name seems to have been Kobert Fitz Ooth. His exploits were a common subject of ballads and songs from the time of Edward TIL, though many of these poems, now extant, appear to have been composed or altered in later times. They celebrate Kobin Hood's skill in archery, and the considerate manner in which he carried on his maraudings and robberies. He was famous for rob- bing the rich for the purpose of giving to the poor, and this made his story a great favorite with the common people. Stow, the old English chronicler, gives the follow- ing account of him. " In this time, about the year 1190, were many robbers and outlaws, among which Kobin Hood and Little John, renowned thieves, continued in woods, despoiling and robbing the goods of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them, or by resistance for their own defence. " The said Kobert entertained an hundred tall men, and good arcbers, with such spoils and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, or otherwise molested. Poor men's goods he spared, abundantly relieving TALES AND STORIES. 45 them with that which, by theft, he got from abbeys, and the houses of rich earls." DraytoD, an old English poet, thus speaks of Kobin Hood in his poem entitled " Polyolbion :" " From wealthy abbots' chests, And churches' abundant store, What oftentimes he took, He shared among the poor. No lordly bishop came In lusty Robin's way, To him before he went But for his pass must pay. The widow in distress * He graciously relieved ; And remedied the wrongs Of many a virgin grieved." Major, the Scottish historian, declares that Eobin Hood was indeed an arch robber, but " the gentlest thief that ever was." He seems to have been as famous in Scotland as in England. There is no doubt that this celebrated outlaw and his wild com- panions carried on their depredations without any regard to the rights of property. But it must be considered, on the other hand, that the laws and regulations established by the Norman kings of England, for the purpose of maintaining their parks and hunting grounds, were most severe and tyranni- cal, and directly calculated to drive the people into desperate ways of life. William the Conqueror had no less than sixty- eight torests, thirty-one chases, and seven hundred 46 MERRY'S BOOK OF and eighty-one parks, in England, for his private use. William Rufus, his successor, laid waste thirty miles of territory, by driving the country-people from their fields and dwellings, in order to form what was called the New Forest. By the severe " forest laws " any man who killed a deer belonging to the king, was punished by having his eyes plucked out, and other barbarous acts of mutilation. But as the English in those days, before the dis- covery of gunpowder, were trained up from boyhood to the use of the long bow, and excelled all other nations of Europe in the art of shooting with this weapon, they often infringed these laws with impu- nity. Troops of banditti, similar to that of Eobin Hood, were commonly lurking about the royal forests, and from their superior skill in archery, and their knowledge of the recesses of the wild solitudes of the country, found it no difficult matter to kill and carry off the king's deer. How great a favorite Eobin Hood was with the country people of England in former times, we may judge from the following account given by Bishop Latimer, in one of his sermons. " I came once myself to a place, riding on a jour- ney home from London ; and I sent word over night . into the town that I would preach there in the morn- ing because it was a holiday. And methought it was a holiday's work. The church stood in my way, and I took my horse, and my company, and went TALES AND STORIES. 47 thither. I thought I should have found a great company in the church ; and when I came there the church door was fast locked. I tarried there half an hour and more ; and at last the key was found, and one of the parish comes to me and says, ' Sir, this is a busy day with us. We cannot hear you ; it is Robin Hood's day. The parish are gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood, I pray you let [hinder'] them not/ I was fain then to give place to Robin Hood." The sermon in which the above anecdote is related was preached before King Ed- ward VI. The exploits of this renowned outlaw have been the theme of a great multitude of compositions both in prose and verse ; the catalogue of the ro- mances and ballads on this subject is very long, and shows the general interest which the English people cf old times felt in the romantic history ot Robin Hood. The close of Robin Hood's life has been describ- ed in the following manner. Having for a long series of years maintained a sort of independent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a proclamation was published offering a considerable reward to any person who- would cap- ture him, either alive or dead. Nobody, however, dared to attempt his arrest, or he was too much a favorite with all his neighbors to allow them to en- tertain any desire to see this done. At length, the 48 MERRY'S BOOKOF infirmities of old age came upon him, and during a fit of sickness he found it necessary to be blooded. For this purpose he applied to the prioress of a nun- nery, in Yorkshire ; as the women of the religious orders were, in that age, famous for their skill in surgery. This woman treacherously bled him to death, November 18, 1247, he being then in his eighty-seventh year. He was buried under a stone by the highway. The following epitaph was written on him, al- though the language has been modernized to make it intelligible to common readers. " Here, underneath this little stone, Through Death's assaults now lieth one, Known by the name of Robin Hood, Who was a thief and archer good. Full thirty years and something more, He robbed the rich to feed the poor ; Therefore his grave bedew with tears, And offer for his soul your prayers." TALES AND STORIES. 49 HOW EDWARD SHARP GOT CURED OF HIS FAULTS. 50 MERE Y'S BOOK OF HOW EDWAED SHAEP GOT CUBED OF HIS FAULTS. I CANNOT tell why it is, but some boys who are not very bad, do like to be in mischief. Of this kind was one of my little friends a handsome, black-eyed fellow, by the way named Edward Sharp. Edward, or Ned, as we used to call him, was not ill-natured, nor ill-tempered, nor very wicked in any way ; but he dearly loved to tease people, and many a saucy joke did he play upon his youthful compan- ions. Even his, sister Jane, who was a good, kind creature as ever lived, was often made the subject of Ned's mischievous practices. In vain did the boy's father and mother advise, caution, and threaten him for his faults and follies : a spirit of elvish fun seemed to be in his very nature. But at last he got cured in a way nobody expected. The story is this : Ned had one day placed a pin in the bottom of a chair, with the point sticking up, and he expected somebody would sit down upon it. From this he anticipated a deal of sport. He had not put the point up very high, so as to inflict a se- vere wound ; but he chuckled a great deal at the idea of seeing some one bound out of the chair, as if stung by a bumble-bee. TALES AND STORIES. 51 But it chanced that no one sat down in the chair for some time, and Ned's attention being directed to something else, he forgot all about the pin. After a little time, he was caught in his own trap, for he sat down bang in the chair, and the pin entered pretty deeply into his flesh. In his agony and surprise, he jumped into the air, and uttered a terrible cry. At first everybody in the room looked about with wonder, but pretty soon Jane went to the chair, and there seeing the pin artfully arranged, she had no difficulty in guessing at the cause of the uproar. She directed the attention of. every one in the room to the pin, and at once all eyes were turned on Master Ned. He very speedily ceased crying, and hung down his head in shame. It was needless to preach a sermon to him on the occasion. He saw very clearly the moral of his adventure which was, that he who sets traps for others, is sure some day or other to be caught. From that time he gave up his habit of teasing and mischief-making, and long before he was a man, he had learned to practice kindness to all around him. 52 MERRY'S BOOK OF THE YELLOW EOSE. are very still lately after school, what makes them so ?" said Mrs. Evans, whose house stood near the Academy ; "they used to annoy us greatly by their shouts, but lately I have not heard them at all." "Most of the larger boys have become greatly interested in gardening," said Mrs. Wilder, " hence they go home as soon as they are dismissed." " I hope they will continue to do so. When they remain and play on the green, they make noise enough to render one distracted. I have sometimes said to Mr. Evans that we should be obliged to change our residence for one more quiet." " Boys generally give their lungs some exercise when they leave the confinement of the schoolroom. It does them good." " It does not do those who are condemned to hear them much good." "It enables them to exercise the virtue of pa- tience." ft I think if you lived here, your opinion would be different." TALES AND STORIES. 53 Mrs. Evans had no children, and hence was not quite as forbearing towards their recreations and follies as she might have been. She could not see why children need make any more noise than grown persons ; she thought they had no right to make as much. Boys are not as large as men, therefore she concluded they had no right to make as much noise as men. But she found that the facts did not agree with this logical conclusion. It was notorious that boys made more noise than men. Indeed, she seemed to think that boys were little else than noise- making machines, nuisances which ought to be GARDENING. abated. Of course Mrs. Evans was not remarkably popular with the boys. It is quite possible that in 54 MERRY'S BOOK OF consequence of her peculiar opinions, there were louder shouts in the vicinity of her dwelling than there would otherwise have been. But gardening had engaged their attention, and Mrs. Evans' ears had rest. She was sure, however, that the calm would not last long, and that when the urchins began again, they would make up the temporary deficiency with interest Some amiable people are sure that if boys do right to-day, they will certainly do wrong to-morrow. Hence it is always proper to regard them with suspicion and blame. But let us turn our attention to the matter of gardening. The teacher had suggested the idea to one or two of the leading boys, and they entered into it with enthusiasm. They induced their parents to assign them a bit of land for gardens, and all their leisure hours were spent in preparing it for flowers. Their example became contagious. All the boys rushed into gardening. Those who could not procure ground that was inclosed, appropiiated portions pertaining to the highway, and inclosed them with miniature fences, which the street cows gazed at with great gravity, as they chewed the cud, and their fellow-freemen, the porkers, rooted down to see if there were any corn or potatoes within which they might root up. Boys, like men and women, like to do what other folks do. It was not strange, therefore, that the TALES AND STORIES. 55 cultivation of flowers was the order of the day. All the gardens in the vicinity, which contained flowers, were laid under contribution by those who were under the influence of this newly awakened zeal. The supply was limited, and the demand great. What was to be done ? Flower gardens without flowers were not exactly the thing. Some thought of turning utilitarians, and of filling their gardens with corn and cabbages, but the fashion set exclusively in the direction of the ornamental, and the rebellious attempt was not made. At length it occurred to James Halsey, that spring was nursing in the woods and fields many choice flowers which she would readily consent should be transferred to gardens, provided they were treated tenderly. Dame Nature is not willing that any of her productions should be treated unkindly and harshly. If it is done, she withdraws her counten- ance and support, which is sure to cause them to fade and die. If, on the other hand, men treat her offspring kindly, she will assist in rearing them, and in bringing them to a higher perfection than they woulft have attained in the places where they were born. " Come," said James to Herbert Alfred, on the morning of a holiday, " let us go into the woods and find some wild flowers, and plant them in our gar- dens." " I never knew any body to plant wild flowers in 56 MERRY'S BOOK OF the garden/' said Herbert. " Any body can see them in the woods." " True, but it is some trouble to go to the woods to see them. I think they will look very pretty in our gardens." " If we could find some which nobody has seen, and were to pretend we got them from somebody's garden, a great way off, it would do, I think. Folks would think a great deal of them, then." " As I stock my garden to please myself, I do not care whether other folks think a great deal of my flowers or not. I wish to get those that are really beautiful, and enjoy them." u Well, I will go with you, but you must not let anybody know it." " Why not ?" " Because I don't want anybody else to get any. If all the boys get them, there will be no use in having them." Herbert was like many grown-up people. They want many things, not because they regard them as beautiful, but because others regard them so. And they regard things as valuable in propor- tion as they are uncommon, and think a thing has lost all desirableness if some other person has one like it. In their weakness and follies, boys and girls are quite as bad as men and women. James and Herbert furnish themselves with bas- kets and tools, and set out for a forest which cover TALES AND STORIES. 57 ed the southern side of a hill. The south wind was whispering gently to the violets, and other spring flowers, to come forth and show themselves, and, under the warm rays of the sun, they were begin- ning to do so. The boys soon filled their baskets with flowers and flowering shrubs, which were really more beautiful than any of the flowers and shrubs they had procured from gardens. Even Herbert, who was so much accustomed to let other persons form his opinions for him, was struck with the beauty of the violets, and said, " If these had come from Eng- land they would be prettier than anything we have." James did not enter into controversy with him. He was content with perceiving and enjoying their beauty, which, to his eye, was as great as if they had been reared in Queen Victoria's garden. James had the rare habit of thinking for himself of form- ing his own opinions. It happened that both boys had more flowers than they had space to put them in. James perceived his surplus, and offered them to the first one that came along. He knew he would have an opportuni- ty of disposing of them in a short time, for the boys were constantly passing round to see what progress each was making. Herbert having set out such of his collection as he had room for, hastened to destroy the rest, before any one should come along to ask for them. He came to see James just as James was in the act of 58 MERRY'S BOOK OF giving his surplus to Allen Irvine, a boy who was in feeble health, and unable to go to the forest him- self. " What made you such a fool as to give him those flowers ?" said Herbert, as soon as Allen was out of hearing. " I did not want them/' said James. " Well, why did you not throw them away ?" " Because they had good roots and will do well in his garden." " What of that ? I didn't mean to have any- body know we had them till it was too late to get any more. Now every boy in the place will get them, and very likely they will find handsomer ones than ours." " That will not make ours the less beautiful." "If I wanted to give them away, I would not have given them to James Allen." " Why not ?" " Because he is poor and sickly, and you never can get anything from him in pay." " He seemed very thankful, and that I think is good pay." " If you call thankfulness good pay, you can soon get rid of everything you have." Herbert, in the conversation above recorded, ex- hibited some further traits of character which are frequently found in grown-up people. There are those who, if they have favors to bestow, will care- TALES AND STORIES. 59 fully confine them to those who have ability to re- turn them. What they would call acts of benevo- lence are simply investments, on which they hope and expect to recover a high rate of interest. Of course, such persons know nothing of the pleasures of benevolence. James had experience of the pleasure of benevo- lence when he gave his flowers to Allen. He gave them to him because he was poor and sickly, unable to get them himself, and unable to give anything in return. Herbert's last remark seems to imply that, in his opinion, thankfulness was a commodity easily ob- tained. I do not agree with him. It is not often that true thankfulness, either to God or man, follows the reception of favors. I am sure Herbert would have felt very little thankfulness for any favors done him. We must do good for its own sake, and not in or- der to receive benefits in return, or thankfulness from those on whom our favors are conferred. In a certain garden, the property of a stern old man, there was a yellow rose, the only one in the vil- lage. The owner rejoiced in his sole proprietorship, and refused all applications for shoots, which it threw up abundantly from its roots. One day, a poor ragged boy, who never attended school, and who was looked down upon and often ill treated by the school boys on account of his pover- ty, brought James a shoot from said rose. 60 MERRY'S BOOK OF " Where did you get this ?" said James, as the boy, with evident satisfaction, placed it in his hand. " I got it at Mr. Storms'." " How did you get it ?" " I have been at work in his garden." " Did he give you leave to take it ?" "No." " Do you suppose I want stolen goods ?" " I didn't steal it." " How did you get it, then ?" "I took it." James was half indignant and half amused at the distinction made between taking and stealing. it is a distinction which many boys make but it is plain- ly a distinction without a difference. " I can't take it, Tom." " Why not ? I wanted you to have it. I would not have taken it for any body else. You have always treated me well." " That is no reason why you should steal it for me." "I didn't steal it. Mr. Storms told me to make a bed for parsnips. He told me to dig up every thing in it, and pick out all the roots and every thing. In digging, I threw up this root, and I thought I might as well bring it to you as to throw it away." This statement put a different aspect on the mat- ter. The idea of theft had not entered Tom's mind. TALES AND STO^TKS. 61 X The rose was a very desirable object. Might he not without blame accept it and place it in his garden ? Many would have seen no difficulty in so doing, but James knew that there was a difference between what is just right and what is not quite right. He knew that the true standard for a man is what is just right. So, after pondering the matter for some time, he said, " I am much obliged to you for your kindness, but I will not set it out till I get Mr. Storms' permission. Do you work for Mr. Storms to-morrow ?" " Yes." " Well, you take this root back, and take care of it, and I will come in the morning and tell him you dug it up by mistake, and, maybe, he will let me have it." 62 MERRY'S BOOK OF " I know he won't." " Perhaps he will. You take it back now to his garden." Tom very unwillingly retraced his steps to the garden, carrying with him the rose which he sup- posed James would be eager to receive. Just as he entered the garden, Mr. S., who had unexpectedly returned, met him. " What have you there ?" said he. " Something that I dug up in making the parsnip bed." " What have you been doing with it ?" " I thought it would die if it was not set out, so I took it over to James Halsey ; but he would not take it without your consent/' " Wouldn't take it ?" " No, sir. I told him I found it among the roots you told me to dig up and throw away." " I didn't tell you to dig up a rose-bush, you stupid ; but since there is one honest boy in the place, you may take it to him and tell him I say he may have it. But if you ever take anything out of the garden again, you will be sorry for it." Tom did not wait to be told a second time to take the rose to its proprietor. If the reader has paid attention to the foregoing pages, he has had several points worthy of reflection set before his mind, and has seen another illustration of the old proverb that honesty is the best policy. TALES AND STORIES. 63 THE LOST PUZZLE. ELL, Willie, one would think that you had lost your best friend." Aunt Susan, some one has stolen my Chinese puzzle, and now I can not show it to George Lawson." " And where did you leave it last night, when you. went to bed ?" " On the hall table, and I believe that Jim Brown, the washerwoman's boy, took it when he was here this morning." " Be careful, Willie, how you accuse another. You may have forgotten where you laid it." u Oh, I am certain that I left it here on this table." " Do not be too sure. Come with me and I will see if I can not find it for you. Have you looked everywhere ?" " Yes, high and low, in every place where I thought it likely to be. That Jim Brown has it, 64 MERRY'S BOOK OF and I will go straight to his house, and make him give it back to me." " Wait, and see that it is nowhere about the house." " I know that it has gone, for I have looked every- where." " Not everywhere, as I have no recollection of seeing you in my room this morning, and that is the last place you had it last night." " Every thing that I get is taken from me. All the other boys keep their toys, while mine go some way or another." " And how do they go ? Do you not dispose of them yourself? The handsome top I gave you went for a rusty knife ; your elegant glass marbles for a piece of cake. That soon vanished, and the kite Uncle John sent, you left out in the rain, and it was of course spoiled. Now can you tell me wh*ere they go ?" " But this puzzle I had determined to keep, and now that Jim Brown has it." " Hurrah ! What is this, Willie ?" said Aunt Susan, holding up the identical puzzle. " Oh yes, I forgot I left it here last night." "But you insisted that you left it in the hall, and knew that poor Jim Brown had it." " As I thought it was gone, I knew that no one came in so early as Jim, so I thought he had taken it." TALES AND STORIES. 65 " Hereafter, if you lose anything never accuse any one of stealing it until you have some proof that he is really dishonest. It might aifect that poor boy's character for life to be called a rogue, even by a little boy like you. Sit down by me, and I will tell you a story that will show you the evil consequences arising from accusing persons falsely. " When I was a little girl, a lady of my mother's acquaintance came to reside here. She was very rich, and had many elegant dresses, and a great deal of costly jewelry. Among the latter was a peculiar- ly carved ring, with a diamond setting of great value which she always wore upon the fore finger of the left hand, and only took it off once in a great while to clean it. " My mother, having some plain sewing to do, had engaged a young girl to come to the house and assist her. She was very poor, but honest, and strove hard to keep herself and mother comfortable, by her untiring industry. Our sewing-room was in the second story of the back building, and overlook- ed the garden that was beautifully laid out in stars and diamonds, decked with the richest flowers. We had a great many bees in queer-shaped hives, glass- ed all round, so that we might see the honey- comb formed, without disturbing the bees ; also several beautiful birds in exquisite cages, that were arrang- ed among the flowers, giving a picturesque appear- **A to the view. 66 MERRY' s BOOK OF " One morning Mrs Montrose for that was the name of our visitor was in this room, and showed this ring, which for some cause she was very proud of, to the seamstress, Julia Sawyer. In doing so, she discovered that it needed cleaning ; so she took the basin with some soap and water, and stood by the window that she might see to clean it thorough- ly. She was scrubbing the ring busily, when sud- denly she raised her eyes, and saw my mother's favorite canary perched upon the top of his cage. Forgetting every thing, she dropped the ring in the basin, and hastened to catch the little songster be- fore he took refuge in the boughs of the neighboring trees. It was some time before the little prisoner was again caged. When she returned to the room, the bowl was emptied and the ring gone. In an in- stant, suspicion fell upon the little seamstress. In vain she protested herinncxcence, saying she thought Mrs. Montrose had raken it with her when she left the room. The servant who had cleaned the room during her absence was questioned closely, but knew nothing about it. " My parents felt exceedingly annoyed to think that their friend should meet with so great a loss while a visitor at their house, and that suspicion had fallen upon one in whom they had ever reposed per- fect confidence. Julia offered and insisted upon their searching her. This they would not do, be- cause they thought she had secreted it somewhere TALES AND STORIES. 67 out of the room. My father begged Mrs. Montrose not to prosecute Julia, saying that in all probability she would find it again, and, if Julia really had taken it, she might return it from fear of exposure. This kind of reasoning Mrs. Montrose would not lis- ten to, but insisted that an example should be made of her, and if there was any justice she should go to prison. We all felt deeply for the poor girl, who was near- ly deranged. A writ was issued, and as she had no one to go her bail (my father not being a proper- ty holder) she was carried off to jail. Her mother was apprised of her daughter's situation, and her agony, to think her darling child within the gloomy portals of the prison, is better imagined than de- scribed. She went on her knees to Mrs. Montrose, who said the law must take its course. A bill was filed against her, and at the next term of the court she was brought, pale and almost fainting, to the dock, where the most abandoned and depraved had received their sentences. " Her mother accompanied her ; and more like shadows than human beings did they appear as they listened to the evidence which, if true, would cer- tainly condemn her. After the testimony was taken the judge asked her if she had anything to say. Her answer was, ' I am innocent/ Of this she had no proof. She was pronounced guilty. Scarce a dry eye was in the court-room, from the judge down, 68 MERRY'S BOOK OF * with the exception of Mrs. Montrose, who thought, by punishing the poor girl, she would be repaid for her loss. The judge's voice trembled when he pro- nounced the sentence of two years in the State's prison, as that was the shortest time allowed for such cases. The poor agonized mother pleaded in vain to share her daughter's cell. That by law was forbidden. Henceforth, those who had lived for one another were separated, never more to meet this side the grave. Scarce a week had elapsed, ere the mother was found a cold and stiffened corpse, with the remnants of a fatal poison by her side. Julia bore with fortitude her great trials. A consciousness of innocence, and a firm reliance in One that will not forsake those who put their trust in him, bore her spirits up. But close confinement and hard work brought on disease, which ended in death, a few months after her incarceration. " Mrs. Montrose returned home, amply repaid for her misfortune by the conviction, of the guilty, as she thought." " Well, Aunty, 1 do believe Julia did take the ring, after all." " No, my dear, she did not. Do you see the little stream that runs along through the rear of this house, in which all the sewers empty. It was some two years after the ring was lost, that two or three little boys like yourself were playing there, and selecting the pebbles for marbles, when one TALES AND STORIES. 69 found, deeply embedded in the sand, the ring, the same ring. It had been thrown out in the basin of water into the sewer, and finally found its way to this little stream, where, in all probability, it would have lain until this time, had it *not have been for the boys hunting pebbles. Now do you not see how wrong it is to accuse any one falsely ?" " Indeed I do, and you will not catch me doing so again. What did you do with the ring ?" " We sent it to its rightful owner, stating how and where it was found." " I should think she must have felt very bad." " She did grieve very much, and came on to make Julia all the reparation in her power. It was too late she was dead. She had both mother and daughter removed to a shady nook in our cemetery, and raised a neat monument over them. Now, re- member never to accuse another, without positive proof of his guilt." 70 MERRY'S BOOK OF THE SLEIGH-RIDE. ONIES, whoa! stand still there, you will have enough to do for your little trot- ;/ ters before you come back. Stand still, my beauties !" Joe Sands was more proud of his ponies than even of his own black locks and raven whiskers, which he cultivated and curled in the most approved fashion. He was now rigged out in the most magnificent style ; his ponies almost covered with strings of bells, and his beautiful scarlet cutter richly lined and cush- ioned, and provided with a rich fox skin robe, lined with scarlet and gold plush. His own person was enveloped in an elegant wadded wrapper, with a fine Russian beaver, from which dangled a large silken tassel. His establishment was now drawn up before the comfortable mansion of Mr. Morris, and Joe was somewhat impatient for the appearance of the young ladies whom he was to have the honor of driving to the wedding, where he was to act as chief grooms- man. With an occasional crack of the whip, and a sudden reigning in of the ponies, that made all the bells jingle again, and a loud and sharp "Whoa TALES AND STORIES. 71 there !" he amused himself as well as he could, an9 OK OF suppose, the most accomplished in the world. What can you do without your legions and your arms ? With ten thousand men at your back, armed at all points, where, pray, is the wonder that you take possession of a city or a country, weakly defended perhaps, both by men and means ? But place me among savages, (provided only I can speak their tongue) give me no arms no money ; nay, even strip me of my clothes, and leave me a defenceless, solitary being among thousands, and what will fol- low p I w ill draw tears from the strongest heart among them ; they shall give me bread to eat, clothing to wear, they shall build a house to cover me, and, if my ambition extends so far, they shall choose me for their king ; and this only by the words of my mouth. Now who, I ask you, is most powerful, you or I ? " You think it was a glorious thing for Julius Caesar to pass with his captives through the streets of Home. I think it was glorious, too, for Cicero, when, after having exposed and defeated the hor- rible conspiracy of Cataline, and driven him from Borne, he was borne by the most honorable men of the city to his house, along streets crowded with thousands of inhabitants, all hailing him ' Father and savior of his country !' I wish I could be a Cicero, and you might be a Julius Ceesar and an Alexander the Great for me. " But come, William," said he, addressing his TALES AND 6TORIES. 89 other brother, " who would you choose to be ? and what argument can you bring forward in favor of your choice ?" " I," replied William, " would choose to be John Smeaton." " John Smeaton," questioned Charles ; " and pray, who in the world was John Smeaton ?" " Bless me," said George, " not know John Smeaton ! He was a cobbler, to be sure, and wrote a penny pamphlet, to prove how superior wooden shoes are to Grecian sandals I" " Not he, indeed I" interrupted William, indig- nantly ; " he built the Eddystone Lighthouse !' " 0, yes yes to be sure he did ! I wonder I should forget it," replied George. "He was a stone-mason, and had the honor of building a wall ! Upon my word, sir, yours is a noble ambition ! Why, Smeaton only did what any man might do I" " Not so, either, my good Julius Caesar !" said William. "There are not ten men in England that could have built that lighthouse as well as Smeaton did. It will stand while the world stands. It is a noble proof of the power and ingenuity of man. It defies the almost omnipotent ocean itself, and the other elements can never affect it. 96 And now, George, consider Smeaton's case with- out your soldierly prejudices. Independently of his work being a masterpiece of human skill, its import- ance will not be lessened by time. Your conquests, 90 MERRY'S BOOK OF most potent Csesar ! are wrested from you in your life-time, and your successor will hardly thank you for exhausting your country's treasure, and reducing its population, for a distant empire, which, as soon as you have left it, rises in insurrection, and almost needs re-conquering. Every year, on the contrary, makes that work of Smeaton additionally valuable ; and as the commerce of the country increases, the importance of that wall, as you are pleased to term it, increases also. There's not a ship that comes into the sea but owes its preservation, in a great measure, to that light-house. Thous- ands of lives are preserved by it ; and, when I think of it on a tempestuous night, as I often do, shining out like a star, when every other star is hid- den, a blessing springs into my heart on the skill of that man who, when the endeavor seemed hopeless, confidently went to work and succeeded. ".But I'll tell you a story now, about neither Julius Ca3sar, Cicero, nor John Smeaton, and yet which is quite apropos. " There was, once upon a time, a little city that stood by the sea. It was very famous it had abundance of treasure twenty thousand soldiers to defend its walls and orators the most eloquent in the world. You may be sure it could not exist without enemies ; its wealth, created many, and its pride provoked more. Accordingly, by some Julius Caesar of those days it was besieged. Twelve thou- TALES AND STORIES. 91 sand men encamped round its walls, which extended on three sides, and a powerful fleet blockaded the fourth, which lay open to the sea. The inhabitants of this little city felt themselves of course, amazing- ly insulted by such an attack, and determined im- mediately to drive their audacious enemies like chaft before the wind. They accordingly sallied out, but, unfortunately, were driven back, and were obliged to shelter themselves behind their walls. Seven times this occurred, and the enemy had now been seven months encamped there : it was a thing not to be borne, and a council was called in the city. " ' Fight ! fight !' cried the orators ; ( fight for your homes for the graves of your fathers for the temples of your gods !' But in seven defeats the soldiers had been reduced to ten thousand, and the people were less enthusiastic about fighting than the orators expected. Just then a poor man came for- ward, and stepping upon the rostrum begged to pro- pose three things ; first, a plan by which the ene- my might be annoyed ! second, a means of supply- ing the city with fresh water, of which it began to be much in need ; third but scarcely had he named a third, when the impatient orators bade him hold bis peace, and the soldiers thrust him out of the as- sembly, as a cowardly proser, who thought the city could be assisted any way, except by the use of arms. The people seeing him so thrust forth, directly con- cluded that he had proposed some dishonorable 92 MERRY' s BOOK OF means perhaps had been convicted of a design to betray the city ; they therefore joined the outcry of the soldiers, and pursued him with many insults to his humble dwelling, which they were ready to burn over his head. " Now this poor man, who had never in all his life wielded a sword, and who had no ambition to do so, and who was but an indifferent speaker, was nevertheless a wise mathematician, and had wonder- ful skill in every mechanical science then known, which -he had the ability, as is common with such men, to apply admirably to every emergency. But he might as well have had no science at all, for any respect it won him ; and though he was a little cha- grined that his well-meant proposition had met no better reception, he shut to his doors, sat down in his house, and turned over his schemes in his head, till he was more sure than ever of their success. In the meantime the enemy brought up monstrous bat- tering-rams, crow-feet, balistse, and all kinds of dreadful engines for the demolishing of the walls, setting fire to the houses, and otherwise distressing the inhabitants. A thousand men were despatched to cut down a neighboring forest, from the trees of which they began to build immense wooden towers, whence they could sling masses of rock into the city. There was a deafening noise all day and all night without the walls, of deadly preparation. The dis- tress of the besieged was now intolerable, and a truce TALES AND STORIES. 93 was eagerly desired. A deputation, therefore, of the most honorable citizens, headed by the most elo- quent orators, and preceded by a herald bearing a white flag, went to the camp of the enemy. The orators addressed them in the most powerful, and, as they thought, most soul-touching words ; they craved only a truce of seven days ; but their words fell like snow-flakes upon a rock ; they moved no heart to pity, and the orators were sent back to their city with many marks of ignominy. ' Go back/ said they, 'and our answer shall reach the city before you do/ Accordingly every machine was put in motion. Arrows, hurled by the balistee, fell into the streets like hail, and ponderous stones, falling upon the buildings, threatened destruction to all. The rest of that day the inhabitants kept within their houses, for there was no security in the streets, nor, it must be confessed, much within doors. The next day, when the enemy a little relaxed their ef- forts, the people ventured out, but nothing was heard save lamentations and murmurs. " ( We have no bread/ said the people ; c we are dying of thirst ; the little corn that remains, and a few skeleton cattle are reserved for the soldiers, while we are perishing in the streets ! We will open the gates to the enemy rather than see our children die thus before our eyes !' " Upon this the orators again came forth. It WP*" n ow no use mounting the rostrum, the people 94 MERRY'S BOOK OF were sullen, and would not assemble to hear them ; they therefore came into the streets, and poured forth their patriotic harangues to the murmuring thousands that stood doggedly together. ' Will ye/ they exclaimed, 'give up the city of your fathers' glory to their bitterest enemies ? Speak ! will ye, can ye do it ?' And the people held up their pale and famishing children, saying, l These are our answer these shall speak for us \' " Just at that moment, the poor man, filled with compassion for his townspeople and suffering from want equal to their own, stepped forward. f Fellow- townspeople/ said he, ' listen ! There is no need for us and our children to die of hunger ; there is no need for us to. deliver up the city. Only do as I say, and we shall have plenty of provision, and may drive our enemies to !he four winds/ " ' What would you have us do ?' asked the peo- pie. " ' Why/ said he, ' for every engine that the en- emy brings, bring out one also : defy their battering- rams disable their crow-feet sink a shaft to the river, and* have water in plenty ! Give me but seven days, three brave men, and the means I shall ask, and I will pass through the enemy's fleet, visit the cities which are friendly to us, and return with provisions to stand out the siege yet ten months longer/ " Try him ! try him !' said they ; ' we cannot be worse than we are/ TALES AND STORIES. 95 " There was an instant re-action in favor of the poor man ; all fell to work at his bidding ; every smith's shop rang with the sound of hammers ; carpenters worked all day and all night construct- ing machines which were enigmas to them. There was such a hum of business for two whole days, that the enemy c'ould not imagine what was going for- wa.rd. In a short time all was ready. A huge ma- chine, the height of the walls, was raised, furnished with a tremendous pair of iron shears ; and no sooner had the enormous crow-foot of the enemy reared itself to pull down a part of the wallj than the shears, catching hold of it, snapped it in two. " A roar of applause echoed through the city, and this first successful effort assured them all. The poor man at once obtained the confidence of the city ; all the enemy's deadly machines he counter- acted ; he set fire to their immense wooden tower by balls of inflammable matter, which he flung in at night ; and these exploding suddenly, with hor- rible cracking and hissings, terrified the enemy al- most out of their senses, and bursting up into vol- cano-like fires, threatened to consume not only the tower but the very camp itself. While this was doing the poor man and his three colleagues passed through the fleet in the twilight, in a small vessel constructed for the purpose, which floating on the surface of the water, looked only like a buoy loosen- ed from its hold. No sooner were they outside the 96 MERRY'S BOOK OF fleet than they cut away one of the enemy's large boats that lay moored on the shore ; and, hoisting full sail, by help of a favorable wind and good row- ing, they arrived by the end of the next day at a friendly city. There they soon obtained supplies, corn, salted meat, fresh-killed cattle, and everything of which they stood in need. A large vessel was immediately stored and properly manned ; her hull was blackened, so were her masts and sails, and by good rowing, she reached the outside of the harbor by the next evening. There they waited till it was quite dark, and then with every oar muffled, silent- ly as the fall of night, yet swiftly as a bird, they passed through the midst of the fleet without being detected ; and by the next daybreak the vessel lay moored upon the quay of the city. " That, indeed, was a morning of triumph ! Men, women, and children, thronged down in thousands. Food was abundant ; they all ate and were satisfied. But the extent of the poor man's service was not known when they merely satisfied their hunger ; he had induced the friendly city to send yet further supplies, with a fleet which should not only attack the enemy's ships, but land a body of soldiers whose object would be to fall suddenly upon the camp in the rear, while the soldiers in the city made a sally on the front. Accordingly, the next day, the sea outside the harbor was covered with ships. The en- emy was in great consternation. All fell out as the TALES AND STORIES. 97 poor man had foreseen. After very little fighting, the enemy had permission to retire, leaving as hos- tages three of their principal men, till an amount of treasure was sent in which quite made up the losses of the siege. " As you may suppose, after this, nohody thought they could sufficiently honor the poor man ; his deeds were written in the annals of the city, and ever after he was universally called ' the savior of his country/ " And so you see, the poor man, by his science and skill, could do more for his city than either sol- diers or orators." " Upon my word/' said both the brothers in the same breath, " there's truth in it." 98 M ER R Y S BOOK OF THE COURTSHIP OF THE STORK-CALIF. CHAPTER I. T was on one fine summer's evening, Chasid, the calif of Bagdad, was lazily reclining ; upon his sofa. After having slept awhile, for it was ex- ceedingly warm, the calit awoke in a very good humor. He was smoking from a long rosewood pipe, drinking, at intervals, the fragrant coffee which a slave held for him ; and while tasting it, he stroked, with an air of great satisfaction, his long, fine beard. In short, any one could see at a glance that the calif was in a happy frame of mind. At such times, his highness appeared very affable, and exhibited much condescension and kindness even to the lowest of his subjects who brought any busi- ness to him. Therefore this was the hour that Manzour, his grand vizier, had selected to pay his daily visit to him. The grand vizier came this day as usual to the palace ; but, what was very unusual with him, his countenance wore a very serious aspect. TALES AND STORIES. 99 " Ah, why do you have such a sober countenance, grand vizier ?" said the surprised calif, taking for an instant his pipe from his lips. " My lord," replied the vizier, crossing his arms upon his breast, and bowing very low, " I was not conscious that my countenance betrayed, in spite of myself, the secret thoughts of my heart ; but I just now saw, as I entered here, a Jew who was display- ing such fine merchandize, that I confess to you that I was much vexed that I had not more money." The calif, who had sought for a long time for some opportunity of bestowing a favor upon his grand vizier, for whom he had a real affection, made a sign to one of his slaves to go and bring the mer- chant. The Jew came as soon as he was commanded. He was a little man, with a dusky skin, and a nose shriveled and crooked, his upper lip thin, and turned upon either side by two large yellow teeth, the only ones that remained in his mouth. His little green, serpent-looking eyes glittered like fire under his heavy eyebrows. As soon as he appeared before the calif, he touched the floor with his forehead, and advanced as if he were crawling, while, with the appearance of smiling, he* displayed the most fright- ful grin that ever spread itself upon a human coun- tenance. He carried before him, suspended by a large strap which hung from his crooked shoulders, a box of sandal-wood, in which were packed all 100 MERRY'S BOOK OF kinds of precious wares, which his black, hairy hand displayed to the eyes of his customers with the skill- ful cunning of a true son of Judea. There were pearls of Ophir, hung in ear-rings, gold rings, studded with diamonds, which the eye could scarcely look at, so great was their brilliancy ; also richly wrought pistols, onyx stones, ivory combs, inlaid with gold, and a thousand other jewels not less rare and costly. After having examined them all, the calif bought for Manzour, and for himself, magnificent pistols, and for the wife of his vizier, a wrought silver comb, surrounded with a crown of fine pearls, which made it the richest and the most beautiful thing in the world. As the merchant was about closing his box, the calif, who could not take his eyes off from it, dis- covered a little drawer which had not been opened, and asked if he had not some other jewels there. The merchant opened the little apartment which the calif pointed out, and took from it a kind of snuff-box, containing a black powder wrapped in a paper, written over with singular characters, of which neither Chasid nor Manzour could decipher a single word. " This box came to me," said the Jew, " from a merchant who had found it in the road going to Mecca. I do not know what it is ; however, it is at your service, if you wish for it. I know nothing at all about it." TALES AND STORIES. 101 The calif, although very ignorant, gladly collected in the shelves of his library all kinds of curiosities and old parchments. He bought the snuff-box and the manuscript, and dismissed the merchant, who walked out backward, bowing as low as when he entered. Chasid contemplated joyfully his acquisition ; but not, however, without earnestly wishing that he knew what was signified by the writing on the paper^ which he turned over mechanically in his hands. " Do you not know any person who can read to me this writing ?" said he, at lafct, to his grand vizier. " Most gracious lord/' replied the latter, " 1 know a man, just opposite the grand mosque, who is called Selim the Learned. He understands, they say, all languages. Send some one to seek him ; perhaps he can explain these mysterious characters." Two slaves were sent to find Selim the Learned, with orders to bring him there immediately. " Selim," said the calif to him as he entered, " I am told that you are versed in the knowledge of all languages. Examine this writing, and see if you can read it. If you can explain it to me, I will give you a holiday dress entirely new ; but if you are unable to read it, you shall be beaten with twelve blows and twenty-five strokes upon the soles of your feet, for having usurped *the noble name of "The Learned." 102 MERRY' s BOOK OF Selim bowed, and replied, "Let your will be done, master/' Then he considered attentively the writing which had been given him. Suddenly he exclaimed, " It is Latin, my lord, or may I be hanged !" " Well, Latin or Greek, tell us quickly what is there," said the calif, impatiently. Selim hastened to translate it, and read thus : " Whoever thou art who findest this article, thank Allah for the favor he has deigned to give thee. He who takes a pinch of the powder contained in this box, and says at the same time, MUTABOR (I will be changed,) the same shall be changed, according to his own desire, into whatever animal he pleases, and shall also understand the ideas which those animals communicate in their language. If he shall wish again to return to the human form, let him bow three times towards the East while pronouncing the same word, and the charm is broken. Only beware, oh, thou who attemptest this ordeal beware of laughing while thou art changed ! Otherwise the magic word will irrecoverably escape from thy memory, and thou wilt be condemned to remain forever in the race of animals." As soon as Selim had finished the translation of the cabalistic paper, the calif experienced such a degree of pleasure, that he could hardly contain himself. After having nfade the wise man swear never to reveal to any person the secret which he TALES AND STORIES. 103 possessed, he hastened to send him away, but not before he had clothed him with a magnificent robe of silk, which added not a little to the respect which Selim the Learned already enjoyed in Bagdad. He had hardly departed when the calif gave him- self up to his joy. " This is what I call a famous bargain," exclaimed he. " What pleasure, my dear Manzour, to be able to be changed into an animal ! To-morrow morning, you come and find me ; we will go together into the fields ; we will take my precious snuff-box, and then we shall understand all that is spoken and sung, whispered and murmured, in the air and in the water, in the woods and in the fields." CHAPTER II. THE night seemed very long to the impatient calif. At length the morning dawned, and immediately, to the great surprise of his slaves, Chasid rose from his bed. He had scarcely taken his breakfast and dressed, when his grand vizier presented himself, as he had been commanded, to accompany him in his walk. Without any delay, the calif slipped into his girdle the magic snuff-box ; and, taking the arm of his vizier, after having commanded his attendants to wait behind, he commenced immediately, in com- pany with his faithful Manzour, this venturesome expedition. 104 MERRY'S BOOK OF They walked through the large gardens of the palace, but in vain ; they did not meet a single thing upon which to try their magic skill. At last, the grand vizier proposed to go farther, to a pond, where he had often seen, he said, many animals of various kinds, and especially some storks, whose awkward gait and singular chuckings had always arrested his attention. The calif gladly agreed to the proposal of his vizier, and they both proceeded towards the indicated way. Just as they reached TALES AND STORIES. 105 the borders of the pond, our two friends perceived an old stork walking slowly, to and fro, hunting for frogs, and muttering, I know not what, with his long beak ; and at the same time they noticed in the air, at a great height, another of these birds, whose flight appeared to be directed toward that side. " I will wager my beard, gracious lord," said the vizier, " that these two birds are going to converse with each other. What say you ? Shall we change ourselves into storks ?" "With all my heart," replied the calif; "but first let us recall the way by which we can become men again." " Nothing is easier," said the vizier, in a bold voice ; " we must bo\JWhrice toward the East while saying ' MUTABOB/ " " And I shall become the calif, and you the vizier/' interrupted the calif. " But we must not laugh ; for if we do, we are certainly lost." While the calif was speaking, they distinctly perceived, soaring above their heads, and gradually descending toward the earth, the stork, which at first seemed only a black spot in the sky. Unable to wait longer, he quickly drew the snuff-box from his girdle ; he took from it a large pinch then, presenting it to his vizier, who did the same, they both exclaimed, " MUTABOR !" The magic word was scarcely spoken, when their 106 MERRY'S BOOK OF legs shriveled up and became slim and brown. At the same instant, the beautiful yellow slippers of the calif, and those of his companion, turned into the ugly feet of a stork ; their arms became wings, their necks shot out an ell above their shoulders ; and, finally, to complete the change, their beards varnished, and their bodies were covered with soft hair. " You have a very fine beak, sir," cried the calif, arousing from his great surprise. " By the beard of the Prophet ! I have never seen any thing equal to this." " I thank you very respectfully,'' replied the grand vizier, bending his long neck ; " but if I may be allowed, I would say to your highness that, for my part, it seems to have a rat* better appearance in a stork than in a calif." " Flatterer," said the calif, " the metamorphosis has not changed you." " No, indeed," declared the vizier, with the great- est seriousness, "I have told you only the truth. But come a little, if you please, toward the side of our comrades, and let us see if we know truly how to speak like a stork." While they had been thus conversing, the stork had reached the ground. After having carefully cleaned her feet, and arranged her feathers by means of her. beak, she advanced towards the hunter of frogs, who was continuing still the same employ- TALES AND STORIES. 107 ment. The calif and his vizier hastened to join them and I leave you to imagine what was their astonishment on hearing the following dialogue : " Good-morning, Madam Longshanks if, indeed, it is morning upon the earth." " A thousand thanks, my dear Miss Pretty Bill. I was just going to fish for a little breakfast, which I shall be very much honored if you will take with me. A quarter of a lizard, or a leg of a frog, will, perhaps, agree with you." " I am much obliged ; but I have no appetite : I have come to this field for another purpose. I am to dance this evening at a great ball which my father gives, and I wish to practice a little by my- self." Saying thus, the yoifcg stork began to leap about and to describe upon the field the most grotesque figures. The calif and the grand vizier gazed upon everything with staring eyes and wide-open beaks, hardly able to repress their astonishment. But when the young dancer, in the last figure, stood upon one foot in the position of a sylph, bending her body, and flapping gracefully her wings, they could not restrain themselves any longer. A loud laugh burst from them, so powerful and so irresist- ible, that it was some time before they could con- trol it. The calif spoke first. " Truly," exclaimed he, " this is a good jest, a fine amusement. It is only 108 MERRY'S BOOK OF too bad that those foolish birds were frightened at our laughter ; had it not been for that, they were just going to sing." Just then the vizier remembered that laughing was strictly forbidden during their metamorphosis, under the penalty of forever remaining a beast, and this thought hushed his gayety ; his countenance became pale ; he imparted to the calif his trouble. " I declare," exclaimed the calif, i ' by Mecca and Medina ! this will be a very bad joke if I have got to be a stork. But stop ; let us think a little what we must do to change ourselves. I have not the least idea." " We must bow thrice toward the east," replied the vizier, quickly ;