c THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE GODS GIVE MY DONKEY WINGS fCARNATIONJ ^^CllRTESjig] The Gods Give My Donkey Wings BY ANGUS EVAN ABBOTT f CHICAGO STONE fcf KIMBALL MDCCCXCV COPYRIGHT, 1895 BY STONE & KIMBALL ATT TO ELIZABETH EVA, ROBERT ALLAN, RUSSELL, MARIEL GRACE MARGARET, AWFUL LITTLE DONKEYS. 631! THE GODS GIVE MY DONKEY WINGS CHAPTER I Evening was upon the land when I made out the collection of thatched cottages for which I had been in search this many a day. Early in the forenoon I had stopped to allow my weary ass to drink from the brim of a pool at the foot of a fall, and myself to bathe feet in the cool waters. It proved a harsh climb before we reached the plateau across which the river wound its course, but the top once gained I knew myself to be on the verge of a discovery. Ahead a great mountain pierced the clouds, its mutch of snow drawn tightly around its head and tied under its chin by two ribbon-like gla- ciers, which, as I guessed, fed the bustling little river along whose bank I now led my patient donkey. The mountain, it seemed to me, looked down upon the valley with considerable good humour, and as I plodded along I could see the 7 8 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings deep shadows of evening playing on its gigantic shoulders like the battalions of a mighty army manoeuvring for a favourable position. The sun had disappeared by the time I reached the Thorp, but a gentle breeze, blowing up from the plain, tempered the air of the mountain to sweetness with its fragrant balm. By the peo- ple I was kindly received. There appeared to be much disputing as to which of them should have the honours, as they were good enough to consider it, of entertaining me, there being no inn or other house of public hospitality in the place. However, the matter was soon settled, for the good people saw that my ass and I were weary, and I was taken in hand by a handsome, strapping, fairfaced young man who led me with many signs of goodwill to a house, wherein I found a woman, she might be some few years older than mine host, and three fair- haired, round-faced children. As I had feared, the good people could not understand me, although I addressed them in many tongues. This was like to prove of some inconvenience to me, a packman, with a healthy itch for gossip. My pack safely indoors, — be it known a packman's first thoughts are for his stock in trade, then for his ass, and lastly for himself — The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 9 the grime of travel washed away, I sat me down to an abundant table which the good-wife had prepared for me. About me all was clean to a fault. The floors were polished until I grew suspicious of my red leather slippers, the plat- ters of beaten copper were burnished to the reflective powers of a Christian's mirror, and the table of white wood reflected the light of the taper which burned fitfully by my elbow. I could see that cleanliness was the good woman's god, and as a packman must ever humour the whims of the people, I made a note to have my slippers handy and to remove my shoes at the door, like a heathen worshipper, before entering her house. I think this little thoughtfulness won me the woman's good opinion. When I had eaten my fill and drunk to my hostess in a good flagon of home brew, my host took me by the hand and led me out into the one street of the place. It was a narrow thor- oughfare paved with cobblestones, with on either side a row of houses, each leaning com- fortably against its neighbour, their great, over- hanging, thatched eaves alive with twittering swallows, and their windows blinking blandly across the way. The people, too, appeared to io The Gods Give My Donkey Wings be hugely sociable, for the men of them sat on wooden benches under the eaves in groups, gossiping and cracking jokes, and swigging great mugs of their brew; and the women stood together with weans of all sizes and ages romp- ing about their knees, talking too and enjoying the cool of the evening. Mine host, with every manifestation of civility, led me down the street, introducing me as I took it, to group after group, who all stood up when I bowed to them, and took off their reed-braid hats to me. They were, as a body, splendid men, the copper of the open air on their cheeks; the clear light of mountain views in their eyes: broad-chested, loose jointed, and frank of face. Honest men there could be no doubt, frugal and sober in their habits, and in their souls a wholesome fear for the gods. Now as all people well know, a packman is accustomed to take note of the little things that indicate to the thoughtful mind great things; for to him, people, be they merry, or be they sad, fain would present but one aspect of feeling. And if he is to view life with its varying lights and shadows, he must be on the alert to note the small, and reason thence in a logical way until he arrives at the great. And this evening as I walked between the groups of people, I The Gods Give My Donkey Wings I I quickly became aware of a sense of unrest per- vading the Thorp. The impression soon be- came strong on my mind that something had disturbed, or threatened to disturb, the quiet of the place. The very goats that frequented the street seemed to have caught the fidgets and continued to lie down, chew their cud for a short time, and ge't up only to lie down and chew their cud again. That something untoward had happened, or was about to happen, I felt in my bones; but what this something might be was, of course, out of my power to divine. Whether the subdued excitement was of a pleasurable kind or no I could not quite make out from the faces of the people, for the different groups looked upon the matter in wholly different ways. The young men of mine host type seemed to treat whatever the question or matter might be with considerable contempt, as something un- worthy of general discussion, and they drank their beer lustily. On the other hand, the old men sat with grave faces and smoked solemnly their long reed pipes, touching but little liquor, and occasionally shaking their hoary heads the one at the other. But it is to the women I turn for anything in the way of palaver. I found that they were discussing the situation with 12 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings more vehemence than I could have credited, taking into account their cheery faces and buxom proportions. They stood in knots of eight or maybe ten, and all spoke at once at a tremendous rate and then fell into silence, look- ing at each other with looks which said that truly the strangest things imaginable happen in this world. We strolled down the street my host and I, and as we passed along he said a cheerful word here and made a kindly inquiry there; but as we walked I could see that, were it not for the promptings of hospitality, he would long ere this have seated himself to his pipe and mug, to add to the weight of argument his opinions on the question that was causing such a stir. So I took an early opportunity to make him under- stand that I would, with him, join a group of fellows towards whom he had been casting wistful glances. An expression of pleasure stole into his honest face, and seating me, he brought for me a pipe and a mug of reaming brew, and himself sat down happy. With my face to the mountain I could do nothing but gaze at the marvellous scene. Soft darkness had fallen upon the valley and plain below us, but the sun's rays crawling up the side of The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 13 the mountain struck the ice cap with a million javelins of candicant light until the ice and snow sparkled and dazzled like a crust of jag- ged diamonds. The great cap high in the blue dome bristled and scintillated and buzzed with brilliant fires. At first the men around me spoke but little, as is the wont of Arcadians when a stranger comes into their midst; but seeing me wrapt in the grandeur of the scene spread out before me, they fell into passing jocular remarks and clinking their earthen mugs, and it was not long before the hum of pleasant conversation told me that they were at last feeling at home in my presence. I strained my ear to catch one word at all familiar to me, but recognize one I could not. So I settled myself down to enjoy a smoke and rest after my weary days of travel, and to accustom my ears to the strange tongue. That I would soon pick up the language of the people, I had no doubt. One skilled in many languages easily acquires an additional tongue. I had been comfortably seated but a short while, and the strangeness of my company had only time in a degree to wear from the minds of my companions, when a woman, one of a clus- ter standing near to our table suddenly stretched 14 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings out her red arm and pointed down the way. Instantly all eyes were turned in the direction, and the next moment a hum of excitement and mutterings ran along either side of the street- The women snatched their children into their arms, and the men discreetly put their huge beakers out of sight under the benches and straightened their backs into a stiffer and more respectful attitude. What in the world could be approaching! In foreign parts, more especially in remote niches among mountains, one never can guess what strange creatures are indigenous. I rapidly glanced in the direction towards which the woman pointed, more than half expecting, if the truth be told, to find some monster of the mountain, some ogre or giant-of- one-eye, with maybe a head or two of his own on his shoulders, a half dozen of other folk's at his girdle, and a great bludgeon in his hand, come swinging down the street. But no! In- stead of monster or giant or dragon, all I saw was a group of three marching towards us in the middle of the way; a man and two women, or, to put them in the order in which they trav- eled, a woman and a man and woman. Cer- tainly nothing here to fear, and nothing to cause excitement. But excitement the pedes- The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 15 trians did cause. So far as I could judge every man, woman, and child watched the progress of the three with a degree of interest curious to note. As they approached, I saw group after group arise from the tables, and first making a deep reverence to the three, remain standing until they had well passed. Although in my soul I abhor bowings and scrapings, there is that in etiquette due to an host which disarms personal likes and dislikes. So I made ready to do as those with whom I found myself were doing. But in my bowing I took good care not to protract it so long as to miss the chance of tak- ing a calculating view of the three, who, truly there could be little doubt, were of considera- ble importance in the Thorp. Of the three, I saw at a glance that there was but one of sub- stantial authority; a woman, tall, heavy of bone, with a determined face of hectic hue, a promi- nent nose slightly hooked, and a reasonable moustache to either side of her upper lip. Her eye was defiantly fiery, she walked abruptly erect, and brought her heel down with a reliant ring on the cobble-stones of the street. A wo- man from whom may the gods defend me — as from each and all of her class — if I do her not an injustice. 1 6 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings To one side of her, but half a step behind, puffed along a stumpy, little man, a good ten years older than the She if I guessed the truth, a squat body of short legs and a sublime stom- ach, and a benign, if henpecked, expression; and as he stumped and puffed along, his eyes wandered wistfully to the tables by the way, and to the groups of jolly villagers, and I saw that he knew to a nicety where the flagons of brew were secreted, and I could well believe how he yearned to take his place at one of the tables and crack jokes with the best of his neighbours. But, poor soul ! he had become entangled in the skirts of the determined shrew — for shrew I made up my mind she must be, — and was now being swept along at a greater rate than the gods had ever intended his short legs to carry him. To the left of the termagant, also half a step behind, strode a young woman, at a hazard I should say, eight-and-twenty. A glance sufficed to tell that she was the daughter of the termagant. She had the build and looks of her mother, with a certain jejuneness per- vading her expression which instantly robbed one of the feelings of awe that instinctively came to the soul at the sight of the shrew. Her fulvous hair had in places broken loose, and her The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 17 pale blue eyes were watery and indefinite, but her nose was in the air and she wibble-wabbled along, the personification of rigid propriety and paucity of brains. I paid but little heed to her, for I was fascinated by the great woman as she marched her band triumphantly down the street. We were all so busily engaged in watching the interesting three, that no one of us seemed to have noticed the approach of a fourth person from the opposite direction. Indeed, I believe it must have been the termagant herself who discovered to the spectators the presence of another, for it was plain to us all that a look of hatred and contempt overspread her face, and that she un- wittingly paused in her stride at the first sight of the new-comer. And when we followed the direction of her glance, we found a young man moving towards us. He carried over one shoul- der a sack half fined with some substance of a dripping nature, and which must have been un- commonly heavy in proportion to its bulk, for the burden gave him a perceptible list to one side as he walked. The thrill of sensation which had run through the people at the ap- pearance of the three was now intensified to an audible murmur, which continued until the 1 8 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings three and the young man were about to meet at a point nearly opposite where I stood. Then the murmur ceased, and a startling silence fell upon the people. The young man came swing- ing along, indifference depicted on his face and in his very gait, no devil-may-care air about him, but the bland unconcern that tells of a spirit careless of the censure or praise of on- lookers, whether it be as to his character, dress, or manner. When he came opposite the three, he pulled off his straw plait headgear to them, out of mechanical politeness I could see, for he did not so much as raise his eyes to one of them. As for the termagant and her brood, they none of them returned his salutation by look, word or action; but after the momentary pause, swept on down the street, the great woman's face more fiery than ever, and the man, poor soul ! although that were indeed dif- ficult, looking uneasier than before. Now a packman knows when he has seen anything of more than ordinary importance, and that this meeting seemed in the eyes of the peo- ple an episode of exceptional moment, there could be no room for doubt. I saw that the peo- ple were quite unable to take their attention off the pedestrians until the three disappeared in a The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 19 door at one end of the Thorp, and the one in a door at the other 'end of it. When this hap- pened, the people gazed in open-mouthed won- derment the one at the other for a space of time, and presently, as if a signal had been given, fell to talking, hammer and tongs. The women rapidly dropped their children to the ground, and while with one hand retaining con- trol of them by the scruff of the neck, they ges- ticulated frantically with the other; while the men, more phlegmatical by right of sex, lighted their pipes, groped under the seats for their mugs, and took a swig before turning to the dis- cussion of the incident, tragic or comic, which- ever it may have been. Certainly the affair aroused my curiosity to a pitch that I there and then made up my mind to bide in the Thorp (given reasonable success in driving my trade) until such time as I had discovered what it was all about. Even a packman has his foibles and my greatest, I fear, is a lively curiosity re- garding the affairs of my neighbours, a failing — if it be a failing at all — which prevails in many parts of the globe. I went to bed that night with a feeling that something of interest was in store for me. CHAPTER II The next morning I arose before the sun, for the air of the morning is the breath of life, and taking my ass, I led her gently along the brink of the stream that flowed by the Thorp, allow- ing the patient beast to crop the rich grasses that grew by the way, while I speculated on the strange scene of which I had been a witness the evening before, and tried to satisfy myself as to whether the people among whom I so unex- pectedly found myself were likely to be shrewd at a bargain, and well informed touching the quality and cost of my wares. It gave promise of a glorious day. A few fleecy clouds swung around the base of the mountain and dragged slowly from point to point, catching at the jag- ged shoulders of rock as though, like young birds, afraid to launch themselves upon the air, and trailing reluctantly up, and up, and up, increasing in size as they progressed until a number of them, joining their ragged edges, at last adven- tured against the blue sky of morning. Birds 20 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 21 sang cheerily, and the bleating of goats was on the air. I slowly made my way along a goat-track that followed the winding of the stream, and had reached a point as near as might be to half a Christian mile from the Thorp, when I became aware of a movement in the waters behind me. Quickly glancing over my shoulder — not that I feared, to be sure, but it is as well to be on one's guard in a strange land — I beheld the nose of a canoe coming round the bend not so very far behind me. I wondered who he could be that came abroad thus early, for few but philoso- phers, who should know better, stir abroad a moment sooner than necessity compels. Choos- ing a comfortable seat by the side of a huge boulder that hung over the brink of the stream, I resolved to wait the coming of the canoe, and to speculate on th"e cause of so early a journey. As the craft came nearer, lo! I beheld, flourish- ing the paddle with enthusiastic vigour, the young man of the previous evening's episode. His head was bare, showing a great clump of tangled hair, his jacket loose, and his chest and arms exposed to the cool morning air, were knotted with muscles that writhed and doubled to the sweep of his paddle as he shot the canoe 22 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings against the stream, which here flowed rapidly. As he approached me, I took occasion to ex- amine his face with a more minute scrutiny than had been my privilege when first I saw him. It was an open face, shaven, bright and frank, with eyes of piercing clearness, features sharply defined, straight nose, and decided chin. He did not sight me until his craft was almost abreast of the point where I sat; but when at last his eyes fell upon me, he gave no start nor any look of surprise, but called to me in a pleas- ant, manly voice some words which I took to be a morning greeting. I returned the salute speaking in my own tongue. At this he turned his face quickly towards me, at the same time checking the course of his canoe, and for a moment he ran his eye curiously over me. Gently dipping his paddle into the water to keep the canoe abreast of me, he seemed to hesitate as one searching the dictionary of his mind for a word, and at last replied in the lan- guage I myself had used, but with the stilted precision of one unaccustomed to the tongue. " A glorious morning, indeed." Now this was a pleasant surprise to me. I had despaired of finding anyone in the Thorp who was at all familiar with my tongue, and The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 23 one's own tongue from the lips of another is music in a strange land. Continuing, he in- quired: "You are a stranger in these parts, sir!" to which I replied in the affirmative, and in return asked him if he were a native of the Thorp. Yes, he had been born and had lived his life in the Thorp. He said I would find few in those parts to speak my tongue; and when I told him that, himself alone excepted, in my forty-two days' travel I had met with none who could, he replied that so far as he knew no one understood the language, and he, more's the pity, but imperfectly. How unfortunate that this should be so, for there was one matter only that exercised my curiosity, and of that I could not be so ill-bred as to inquire of one whom I knew to be a principal to the striking incident. This would be more fhan even a packman's in- quisitiveness allowed. But not to be completely beaten, I cudgelled my brains for some way to introduce the subject of last evening's street scene without giving offence. If I failed to get a clue from this young man, who alone of all the people could speak my language, there was little likelihood of my coming to the end of the mystery without a great wrack of brain and 24 The Gods Give My Donkey Wing* speculation, if, indeed, I came by the end at all. So I said: " I saw you, did I not, walk down the middle of the street last evening? " He again glanced quickly at me, and a play- ful smile flitted across his face as he made reply : " Many people did, if my memory does not play me false." Now this I took to be a mild rebuff to my inquisitiveness, and as I well know, a man who is over curious cannot afford to draw suspicion upon himself too early in the game, for people, unthoughtful and perverse, as a rule insist on telling the news to those who do not care to hear, and withholding it from those who, like myself, are athirst for even the meanest item. The young man's answer at once made me more cautious. Unfortunately, it did not, on the other hand, assist towards the solution of the mystery. After a pause, and as if to neu- tralise the slap in the face, he asked me if I would look in at his house at sundown, saying that he would much like to have a chat with me, and I, glad of the opportunity of a crack, answered him that it would give me great pleasure to experience his hospitality. He The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 25 described to me his house, so that I might have no difficulty in finding it ; but I noticed that he did not mention his name, nor did he ask mine. As we were speaking, he had run the nose of his canoe into a patch of white sand, and stood for some minutes arranging a clump of dry rushes that had been dipped in some greasy substance, the whole affair looking very much like a flambeau. This securely fixed in an upright position at the bow of the canoe, my young friend resumed his seat, shoved off the sand bar, and, flourishing good-bye with his paddle, disappeared around a point. And now I found yet another matter to agitate my curiosity. Where in the name of goodness could the young man be going? Already he was among the roots of the moun- tain. From where I sat began the upward sweep of the mountain, and every step in the direction in which the young man had gone was a step skyward. Moreover, I could hear the roar of falling waters ahead. Yet the man in the canoe had paddled away as if he were bound for a journey of some duration. This surely was an uncommon thing. But the sun had risen, and mine host might be wondering what had become of me, so back I started, 26 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings leaving it for a more convenient season to dis- cover the secret of the stream. That afternoon the man in whose house I found myself so comfortable, by signs and beckonings led me to understand that he wished me to accompany him, but where or why I was, of course, unable to guess. I put on my cap, and taking my staff pointed to my pack and looked inquiringly at him, for it crossed my mind that he had tired of me, and wished to find me other lodgings. But no ; he shook his head, and signalling me to leave the pack, we made off. Down the street, some seven houses or so distant from mine host's, we came to one of more pretensions than its neighbours, having above the door of it, and protected from the weather by an alcove of deftly woven willow, three modelled figures in clay, as I guessed, the totem of the Thorp. Without knocking, my guide pulled the latch-string and entered a room which had all the appearances of a waiting-room. In this lobby we found no one, but before we had closed the outer door plainly heard voices in high debate. It was a masculine voice that spoke as we entered, but in a moment this was silenced, and the strident notes of a woman's tongue, cutting The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 27 short the first speaker, poured forth a raging torrent of words, which in turn was interrupted by a decisively spoken sentence, delivered in a tone which I thought I recognised. The female's tirade was checked but for a moment. The verbose torrent swept away the barrier, and began with renewed fury to rage on its way, and the next instant the door, opening into the room in which we were, flew back upon its hinges, and striding from the inner room came my young man of the canoe, and tripping after him a dainty little lady. My acquaintance held his head proudly in air, but his lips were drawn, his clear eye flashed fire, and one with half an eye could tell that he was angry from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. His cloak brushed my knees, so closely to me he passed, yet he was so absorbed in whatever had taken place that he did not see me. But the girl certainly did, for she shot a roguish glance from her black eyes, and gave me a smile that was, despite her pluck, quite half a sob — a smile which dimpled her cheeks as she passed us, and without pausing she tripped through the doorway under the arm of the man who held the door open for her, and we were once more alone in the entry. She quite took my 28 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings breath away did this slender, roguish maiden, and, old bachelor packman that I am, I fell in love with her at first sight, as, indeed, I do with most women who are little and plucky and young. The woman's voice still sounded from the inner room, and to give him his due, I could see that every word she spoke was drunk in by mine host, and doubtlessly stored away for future recapitulation. It may be that a laudable ambition to be in a position to tell a finished tale to his less fortunate townsmen had as much to do with his delay in making our presence known as had a gallant hesitancy to break in upon a scolding wife. As we stood in the waiting room, I thought of the custom that obtains in Christian lands — I speak of those Christians, for I have but lately returned from a journey to their abodes. Those strange people, then, have a custom of knocking at the outer door and waiting until invited from the inside to enter. To be sure, it is a custom that would never be put up with here, for it assumes on the part of the owner of the house an unreadiness or an unwillingness to re- ceive whosoever asks for admission, neither of which assumptions is creditable to one party or the other. But it occurred to me that in this The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 29 particular case the Christian practice would be of some convenience at least. However, there was nothing for it but, after listening a reasonable time, to open the door and walk in. This, therefore, we did. The room into which we stepped was larger than that we had quitted, and furnished in a more becoming fashion. The walls were hung with tapestry, well-modelled figures of clay occupied niches, and the furniture was richly carved and of substantial proportions. But not the furniture, nor the size of the room, nor the tapestry and ornaments attracted my interest. For deeply sunk in a great cushioned chair, his hands thrust well into his pockets, his fat legs stretched before him, and a most woe- begone look on his podgy face, sat the old man I had seen on the previous evening hurried down the street; and walking the floor, in a hurricane of passion, the masculine she, the termagant, rage writ on her every feature, who, as we entered, shot one withering glance of contempt at the old man. He appeared to be about to hazard a reply to her ragings when his eye fell upon us, and she, noticing a ripple of recognition pass over his face, looked sharply around. Without acknowledging our saluta- 30 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings tions, she strode out of the room like an indignant ogress. Whew ! Thank you ! No lace shall I try to barter with you ! The very sight of you has taken my breath away ! The old man glanced timorously over his shoulder to make sure that she had gone, and when he saw that she had indeed quitted the room, he threw his head in the air, as though tossing away the remembrance of her tongue, withdrew his hands from his pockets, and sat up in his chair, a melancholy grin overspreading his countenance. Mine host took me by the hand as if I were a child, although I was old enough to be his father, and, leading me for- ward, bowed to the old man, and said something of which I could not understand one word. But a packman knows the language of the face, the lips, the eyes, the very wrinkles, and I guessed that I was being made known to a digni- tary of the Thorp as a stranger within its gates. Poor fellow ! I could well believe that he was a kind, old man, with a great heart that had not yet been sapped of all its juices, or completely crushed under the heel of domestic adversity. He arose and laid his hands impressively upon my head and spoke, a benediction it might have been, so solemnly were the words uttered. The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 31 He seated us, and when he turned to mine host, and especially after he had brought to us something in the shape of good liquor, I saw with joy the jovial, sociable soul of the old man expand, until presently it beamed from his fat face. We sat with him for a long time. When at last we arose to depart, he saw us to the door, and gazing away to the mountain that, covered with snow, towered to the sky, — snow no whiter than his own hair — he repeated the benediction. As I walked away, I could not but feel a touching sorrow for the old man. And that termagant ! The gods protect me, an old bachelor, from her, and from the likes of her ! May the spears of the followers of the false prophet Mohamet pierce me ; may the cruel after-life fires of the Christians warp me ; may the rods of the Confucian fall upon the soles of my fefit, and the dread spells of all foreign gods and devils combined be upon my soul, rather than that I should fall into the keeping of a scolding wife ! Ah, what a differ- ence to turn the mind from the termagant to the little lady who had tip-toed so gracefully after the young man ! And, by the way, what in the world were the two of them, the little lady and the young man of the canoe, doing 32 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings in the presence of the termagant and the old man ? They were exactly the people I did not expect to find together. And why had the termagant flown into such a deplorable rage ? " Confound it all," I said to myself, " I must bestir me to learn the language." In the early evening I took my seat on one of the benches in front of the door where already the men folk, returned from fat fields and pasture lands, were assembling to gossip and to swig, for I determined to hearken at- tentively to their conversation that my ear might be attuned to their strange tongue. The followers of Christ have it that "to whom the gods hath given, he shall receive the more from the gods ; " and verily I believe those strange peoples are not so far wrong as is their wont to be, for I have found with each new tongue acquired an increased ease in acquiring the next. It is but picking a word from this tongue and a word from that, and there one has the language. But first of all, as I have said, the ear takes impatiently to the new arrangement and proportion of sounds, and must be broken in like the foal of an ass. I soon found sitting around me a group of men, sturdy and stoutly built, with thews like supple steel, from much 1 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 33 climbing after the he-goats of the mountain, and who drank with a certain grandeur of capacity that charmed me, for truly the world admires a large drinking man as it does a soft spoken woman. The fellows comfortably settled to their benches and their bowls, I could see that the event of last night was still the great subject of speculation, and that mine host had suddenly become a mighty important per- sonage, as compared with the previous evening, was equally apparent. He passed from group to group, followed by an ever-increasing num- ber of listeners eager, as many people are, to hear a second telling of a tale, and in this way he was slowly making down the street. Whatever had happened at the interview this afternoon between the young man of the canoe and the old man of the termagant wife, it was undoubtedly a matter of moment, and a definite step in the career of the dispute. I cannot believe that packman was ever in such a tantalising position as I found my- self. The drama acted all around me, and I unable to follow the shiftings of the play. I almost screwed my spirit to a resolve to ask the young man point blank what it was all about, but the thought of the quiet 34 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings snub of the morning withered the heroic reso- lution. Again it occurred to me as I sat there that I might do worse than discuss with myself the question of how the people of the Thorp were likely to look upon my visit to the young man. Undoubtedly he was unpopular. As to that, there could be no question. Would my visit to him include me in his unpopularity? A pack- man must look sharply to his doings that he mix not himself with the wrong cliques, or his bargain-driving will inevitably suffer in the long run. But when I propounded question and supplied answer I found it came to this : either I must risk a problematical decrease in sales or forego any chance of coming by the truth of the doings which were so exer- cising my soul. It was a sore choice for a thrifty packman ; but I made up my mind to hazard my reputation, and tramp away if I found the people at variance with me. Any packman would have done the same, I feel assured, for gossip is to us as the breath of our nostrils. So I betook me up the street to the house of the young man. CHAPTER III I pulled the latch-string, the door swung open, and passing at once through the ante- room, I pushed back a heavy curtain and slipped into the house proper, and found — ? Myself in the strangest place one could well imagine. A large, oblong room, the floor of earth pounded to a stone-like surface, and smooth, with great blotches of quaintly woven carpets here and there, ceilingless, rafters exposed and the rush-thatch showing through, festooned with many spider webs, and heavy cross-beams hung with strange weapons of the chase and of wa^. At places, thick curtains of fine material fell toward the floor, and were caught back to make a passage-way, or hung against the wall, and the evening light poured through more windows than I had ever seen in such a small compass. These and many other matters I took in at a glance. But they were trifles in comparison with the chief feature of the great room. For hanging from the cross- 35 36 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings beams, swinging from pegs in the wall, lying on the floors, with ghastly mouths open as if in the last throes of strangulation, heaped in the corners, piled up on the floor, grinning, leering, frowning, staring, gasping, crying, laughing, blinking; everywhere, from one end of the room to the other, and up to the ceiling, were strange shapes in clay of the ghastliest white. They filled the room with scowl and smirk, and the place looked the very abode of my youthful nightmares, — my dreams of the after world. The shades of night flitted across the upturned faces, until I began to think I saw several of them wink leeringly at me, and I verily believe that anyone but a packman would have turned tail and fled from the place of awful shapes. Assuredly it was only by a strong effort of will that I screwed myself to the pitch and entered the room. This morning truly I had met with a congenial spirit, for, ah ! I love the gods and the makers of them. The fashioner of wet clay, the moulder of grinning faces and strange bodies, the sculptor, the craftsman of the countryside, the soul of art in the body of flesh ; in fact, the maker of gods. And there he stood among his gods, a coarse overall about him to keep the clay from his clothes, his bushy The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 37 head bare, and his cheeks swollen with water which he was about to blow against a dun-clay figure that stood on a pedestal with its wraps of coarse brown cloth at its feet. As I entered, he glanced towards me, but, his mouth full of water, he could only nod a welcome, and continued to blow the spray against the passive figure. This gave me time to look about me. Such gods! Such serviceable gods! Convenient of size, portable, non-interfering, and fashioned for any mood and occasion. To my right, as I entered, stood the god of rain, moulded of a clay which the sun would shiver in an after- noon, so that should the god prove an indolent god, he was so to his own destruction. And to my left there stood, balanced on one foot, the god of the quiet earth, in much requisition in mountainous ^and volcanic districts where land-slides and tremblings of the earth sorely distress the good folk. The god of the quiet earth balanced on one foot so daintily that should he allow the slightest tremor of the ground, down he himself must come and smash to pieces on the stones arranged around his foot for that very purpose. For the inhabitants of the Thorp, sensible people, looked after their gods, and saw to it that the gods were not 38 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings only worshipped, but that they did their duty. Among such deities and their brood, water- nymphs, fays, goblins, and strange-horned beasts, I picked my way until I stood beside the man, the creator of clay creatures, the maker of gods. Some time passed before he even looked towards me, but having wetted the clay figure to a nicety, he proceeded to bandage and wrap it up with strips of damp cloth, fastening these with wooden skewers until the figure stood muffled from foot to head. Not until this was done to his satisfaction did he pause to glance at me — a wistful look it seemed to me. His expression was that of one trying to make uphis mind on some point or other as to my friend- ship, trustworthiness, sagacity, or mental acu- men. At last, as though satisfied on the score, he said abruptly enough : " I am glad you have come. I am going." I looked him in the face, but said nothing. His brows fell as he continued impatiently in the short sentences of one who is not a thorough master of the language which he finds it necessary to employ. " I go. I have enough. They stone me in the street. They point ; they jeer. Wait. The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 39 Their gods shall go done. Who will make them more? " He ceased speaking as abruptly as he had begun, and bent his gaze upon me, a gaze intended to be of the sternest ; but I thought that I could divine somewhere away at the back of his eye a merry twinkle that told of a humorous soul within. "They will cry aloud to the gods, but the gods will not heed. Drought will fall upon the land. The earth shall tremble to their undoing. For I go. By the gods they shall lose their gods — and more. But you are not as these. You are from afar. Will you do me a service?" I told him I would be pleased to be of any service to the maker of gods. "Then you will keep this till the sun rises to-morrow, and when it reaches the height of yonder shoulder," — he pointed to the moun- tain, — " you will take it and place it yourself— trust to no one — in the hands of the father." He gave me a parchment carefully sealed, and addressed with many queer flourishes and figures, but written in the language I understood not. "The father?" 40 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings " The father of the Commune ; do you not know him? Have they not shown you to him yet? The white-haired old soul who lives in the house with the Thorp's totem above the door." "Where you were this afternoon?" I interrupted, to let him know that I had seen him, and of course with a shrewd idea that this might possibly cause him to initiate me into his secret. " How do you know that? " he asked abruptly. " How know you I was there ? You do not speak the language. They could not have told you !" " I saw you. I went into the father's house as you came out." He raised his eyebrows and looked in a very old-fashioned way at me. "Then you heard?" " Without understanding." " Ah, yes ! I had forgotten. You will enjoy it all — when you know." Another sad disappointment. " I go into the mountain," he continued, in an enthusiastically excited voice. "A league of rock and ice shall cover me from them and their ways. I shall kindle my fire on The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 41 the shores of the Yellow Lake. The bats shall flutter around me, and the cats of the mountain their flaming eyes will look out of the blackness at me, and I shall mould a god of distorted face, gaunt, and with talons in place of fingers ; and when the Thorp cries for a god, I will send one. I go to-night. When I return, I will tell you all." I followed each word he uttered with at- tention, for it is only the dull of wit or the inattentive that need ask many questions, or who fail to picture the whole from a small part. I quickly put two and two together. The mountain then was hollow, an extinct volcano with a sulphurous crater, from his mentioning the Yellow Lake, a lake cold and of unfathomable depth, shores of run lava ; in fact, a great vault of blackness with a bright circle of light away on high, through which the sun each day would shoot a million shafts of sweetening light into the bowels of the mountain, a fan of brightness that would travel slowly round the lake as the sun pro- ceeded on its course. This strange shore must be reached by some tunnel through the roots of the mountain, worn doubtless by waters that had run for ages. Such a supposition 42 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings would explain the canoe trip of the morning into the mountain, and the flambeau at the prow to light the craft on its way. A strange place, indeed, for a maker of gods to betake himself to, an inhospitable shore it must be.and cold, gloomy, eerie, and silent. Before a man would exile himself, the necessity surely must be great. Consumed with impatience to know what had caused the estrangement between the village and its craftsman, I was on the point of putting a question to him when he abruptly changed the subject. " I had a short time at my disposal, to- day." I now report him liberally, " and em- ployed it by making out for you a set of key-words to the language of this Thorp, using your alphabet and giving each word its meaning in your tongue " — here he handed me a scroll — "with this vocabulary you will soon know our language." After thanking him for his trouble and thoughtfulness, we sat down with flagons at our elbows and pipes in our mouths and fell to talking of the world, and although inquisitiveness gnawed at my heart, I was glad enough to tell him of my travels, for next to hearing gossip, a packman loves The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 43 himself to gossip. I told him of the Christian lands, and he, growing enthusiastic over his art, avowed that he had a mind to journey thither and show the people what serviceable gods he could make for a reasonable return ; and verily, I believe he could do a thriv- ing trade, for they are queer people the Christians, and eternally squabbling among themselves as to which of the innumerable sects of them has the true conception of the attributes, elasticity, energy and power of a God of whom they have not so much as a picture or clay figure. My young friend, on the other hand, could assuredly make them a god about which there would be no shadow of doubt. I told him that they are a rich people, and given to running after new gods. So we ^at talking late into the night. When at last' I arose to go, the maker of gods also got upon his feet, and donning his cap and heavy outer garments, gathered into his arms a great bundle of things that stood ready — rugs, blankets, cooking imple- ments and such like, some of which, indeed, he asked me to carry for him, and we quitted the house together. Outside, he pulled the door to, carefully pushed the latch-string 44 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings until it fell inside, and taking a piece of red chalk from his pocket, he drew on a polished panel of the door a large circle and then two heavy lines underneath. This, he informed me, was the sacred sign of privacy which all were in honour bound to heed. With that sign on the door none would molest the place, and none would dare to blot the sign from the door save only him who placed it there. The chalk-marks to his satisfaction, we made our way down to the stream where his canoe, deeply fraught, floated to its moorings, and I saw him disappear with a flourish of his paddle into the deep darkness that hung around the foundations of the mountain. CHAPTER IV When the sun had reached the appointed height, next morning, I, as in duty bound, betook myself to the house of the father, and, now familiar with the custom of the Thorp (on this one particular at least), I pulled the latch-string, and at once ushered myself into the room in which on the previous day I had been so kindly received. I found the father seated in the same chair, but, instead of the woe-begone expression on his face, there was an air of bustle and business which per- vaded the very room. Before him on the table were rolls of parchment, and on one or two sheets which lay open I saw columns of figures which I guessed to be the town's accounts. Forgetting for the moment that I could not understand his tongue, or I should rather say that I was supposed not to understand it, although, as a matter of fact, I had studied assiduously the vocabulary that the maker 45 46 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings of gods had made for me, the father gave me a dignified and kindly welcome, naming me, I made out, the Stranger Within the Gates. Our salaams ended, I took from my breast the epistle that had been given to my charge, and handed it to the old man. He took it, gazed in wonderment at the address and then at me before nervously breaking the seal and reading the document. I watched him narrowly, and as his eye ran over line after line a look of hopeless consternation came into his chubby face. And when he had finished, the missive slipped from his fingers and fluttered limply to the floor, while the old man clutched the table and gasped for breath. Frightened lest he might be about to have a stroke, or some other dire visitation, I made for his side, crying aloud for assistance as I ran. But before I could lay hands to help him, he recovered a little and motioned me back. The blood that had mounted to his face fell again into its proper channels, leaving him pale and his brow purflewed with beads of perspiration. My cries, however, were not without effect. Before I had well ceased calling for assistance a door flew open, and, bursting upon the scene like an embodied The Gods Give Mv Donkev Wings 47 tornado, came the she-Samson, demanding, as I took it, to know the cause of the hubbub. The old man's eyes turned towards her, at first with their accustomed look of helplessness, but gradually kindling into a blaze of fury and indignation, until, overmastering his fears, he jumped upon his feet, and bringing his fist upon the table with a rattle that caused even the Amazon to start, began to pour into her volley after volley of verbal grape and canister. No doubt in the harangue he intimated to her the contents of the letter. But, poor soul ! he was poaching on his wife's preserves, and soon began to stammer and halt for words. Con- fusion gradually settling upon him, he weakened, and finally ceased speaking altogether. The termagant, who had stood for some moments as still as a sfatue glaring down upon him, a look of utter contempt on her masculine face, presently began in earnest. She stormed and ramped and stamped ; she skirled her words out like wind among the rocks, her eyes shot a million javelins of angry light into his soul, she scathed him, blighted him, shrivelled him up, cracked him ; she lashed him with scorpions, and scourged him to the bone ; her red hands played around his white 48 The Gods Give My Donkey Wings head like the lightnings around a mountain top until I feared for his life — and mine. The gods protect me ! I would flay flake by flake, coat by coat, the ashy balloon of the forest hornet until the honey and the eggs showed yellow in the air, rather than draw down upon my head the anger of this termagant. But my time was to come, and not a word could I understand. Would that my feelings were as numb as my ears were unknowing. She whirled on me abruptly, and demanded to know something — the god of chance alone could tell what it might be. I could do nothing but shake my head at her. Again she demanded, and again I shook my head. I could see the father struggling with himself to summon up courage enough to tell her that I could understand not a word she uttered ; but before the desirable pitch had been reached, it was too late to save my skin. A third time she demanded, and the ridiculous- ness of the situation overcoming my usual restraint, I burst into a broad grin, aggravating enough under the circumstances, I have no doubt. The upshot of the matter was that the termagant flew at me like a spit-fire cat, and the next instant I found myself whirled through two doors, and occupying a most undignified The Gods Give My Donkey Wings 49 position on top of a rubbish heap in the middle of the street. I glanced up and down to see whether or no anyone had noted my undignified out- coming, and was pleased to find no one looking ; pleased indeed, for a packman can ill afford to be made a laughing-stock of, if he is to do a driving trade. Woman ! woman is — but with the recollection of that exit fresh in my mind, I cannot trust myself to write of woman. I felt that the house of the father was no place for me, and resolved to get as far away from the abode of the termagant as my legs and good grazing permitted. I will risk most things for a friend, but again show myself to that shrew, I would not for the best friend man ever had. Hastening t THE PUBLICATIONS OF STONE & KIMBALL. ADAMS, FRANCIS. Essays in Modernity. Crown 8vo. $1.25,. net. Shortly. ALLEN, GRANT. The Lower Slopes. Reminiscenses of Excursions round the Base of Helicon, under- taken for the most part in early manhood. With a titlepage by J. Illingworth Kay. Printed by T. & A. Constable, Edinburgh. Crown 8vo. 80 pp. $1-50, net. ARCHER, WILLIAM. See Green Tree Library, Vol. III. BELL, LILIAN. A Little Sister to the Wilderness. By the author of "The Love Affairs of an Old Maid." With a cover designed by Bruce Rog- ers. i6mo. 267 pp. $1.25- Fourth thousand. 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Vol. I., 191 pp. 5 vol. II., 220 pp. S2.00. TAYLOR, WINNIE LOUISE. His Broken Sword. A novel. With an introduction by Edward Everett Hale. Printed at the University Press on American laid paper. i2mo. Gilt top, deckled edges. 354 pp. Si. 2 5. Third edition. THOMPSON, MAURICE. Lincoln's Grave. A Poem. With a title- page by George H. Hallowell. Printed at the University Press,. i6mo. 36 pp. Price, $1. 00, net. VERLAINE, PAUL. Poems of Paul Verlaine. See Green Tree Library, Vol. IV. WHIBLEY, CHARLES. See Sterne. WOODBERRY, GEORGE EDWARD. See Poe. YEATS, W. B. The Land of Heart's Desire. A play. With a frontispiece by Aubrey Beardsley. Prin- ted at the University Press. i6mo. 43 pp. Price, $1.00, net. »3 The Chap-Book. A Miniature Magazine and Review. Semi-Monthly. STONE & KIMBALL The Caxton Building, Chicago. Price, 5 Cents. $1.00 a Year. CONTRIBUTORS. Thomas Bailey Aldrich Stephane Mallarme Maurice Maeterlinck Richard Henry Stoddard Gilbert Parker Kenneth Grahame Bliss Carman John Davidson Charles G. D. Roberts Paul Verlaine Alice Brown Julian Hawthorne Clyde Fitch Edmund Gosse Maurice Thompson C. F. Bragdon Will H. Bradley Louise Chandler Moulton Robert Louis Stevenson Eugene Field Hamlin Garland I. Zangwill Louise Imogen Guiney Gertrude Hall Maria Louise Pool William Sharp Archibald Lampman H. B. Marriott Watson Richard Burton H. H. Boyesen Lewis Gates H. W. Mabie F. Vallotton J. F. Raffaelli C. D. Gibson William Ernest Henley Theodore Wratislaw There is no question that the Chap-Book is the best printed periodical in the world. — Boston Traveller. The Chap-Book continues to be delight- fully clever and irresponsible. — Charleston News and Courier. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 3m-8,'49(B5572)470 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES •i^y^**^ ^i , UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 375 143 5