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The Lost Dryad, by Frank R. Stockton—A Project Gutenberg eBook
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65841 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter" id="cover">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" title="cover" />
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p class="noi halftitle">THE LOST DRYAD</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p class="noi">ONE THOUSAND COPIES OF THIS BOOK HAVE BEEN PRINTED
AT HILLACRE FOR THE UNITED WORKERS OF GREENWICH—EASTERN
BRANCH, INCORPORATED.</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<div class="figcenter" id="i_frontispiece">
<img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="author portrait" title="author portrait" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter" id="i_signature">
<img src="images/i_signature.jpg" alt="" title="" />
<div class="caption">
<p class="noic">Sincerely yours<br />
Frank R. Stockton</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<h1>THE LOST DRYAD</h1>
<p class="noic">BY</p>
<p class="noi author">FRANK R. STOCKTON</p>
<div class="pad4">
<div class="figcenter illowe4" id="i_logo">
<img class="illowe4" src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo" />
</div>
</div>
<p class="noic">PRINTED AT HILLACRE<br />
FOR THE EASTERN BRANCH OF<br />
THE UNITED WORKERS OF GREENWICH<br />
RIVERSIDE, CONN.<br />
1912</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p class="noic">Copyright, 1911, by The Curtis Publishing Co.</p>
<p class="noic">Copyright, 1912, by The United Workers of Greenwich.</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter illowe24" id="i_chapdeco1">
<img src="images/i_chapdeco.jpg" alt="chapter deco" title="chapter deco" />
</div>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="Explanation">IN EXPLANATION</h2>
</div>
<div><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_a.jpg" alt="A" title="A" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">A dozen years ago,
when every one was still
reading <cite>Rudder Grange</cite>
and <cite>The Merry Chanter</cite>,
Frank R. Stockton asked
Mrs. Frederick Gotthold
which of his stories she liked best.
Her choice of the fairy tale, <cite>Old Pipes
and The Dryad</cite>, pleased him. The
fanciful stories he wrote for children
were very near to his own heart.</p>
<p>Some time after this, when the
publishers were preparing a new edition
of Stockton, Mrs. Gotthold persuaded
them to have printed for her a copy of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span>
<cite>Old Pipes</cite>, each page on a leaf of vellum.
This she illuminated and decorated,
bound it in leather and sent it to
Mr. Stockton.</p>
<p>One day Mrs. Gotthold’s mail
contained a parcel. Being opened,
this proved to be a small leather-bound
book of neatest manuscript, bearing on
the inside cover this inscription:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>To Mrs. Florence W. Gotthold, this little story—which
was written for her, and of which there is no other
copy—is gratefully presented by</p>
<p class="right">FRANK R. STOCKTON</p>
<p class="noi">Claymont, Nov. 3, 1901.<br />
Transcribed by E. W. Tuttle.</p>
</div>
<p class="noi">A title-page, also in Mr. Stockton’s
handwriting, read:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>The | Lost Dryad | By | Frank R. Stockton | Only
Copy. | Claymont | Charles Town, W. Va. | 1901</p>
</div>
<p class="noi">The book consisted of twenty pages
written by Mr. Stockton’s sister-in-law
from his dictation.</p>
<p>Ten years have passed. Mr.
Stockton died in April, 1902. None<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span>
of his immediate family remain. The
friend for whom he dictated this
quaint little tale has regretted that her
pleasure in it was not being shared by
others. Her interest in the Eastern
Branch of The United Workers of
Greenwich, Connecticut, has prompted
her now to give the story to them for
publication. The magazine rights
were sold to the Curtis Publishing
Company. The money thus obtained
has been expended in producing this
edition of one thousand copies—the
first edition of one of the last tales of
America’s well-loved story-teller.</p>
<p>The proceeds from the sale of this
book will go into the construction of a
children’s club-house and playground
in a very poor little village, where
some of the little ones wander through
childhood almost as forlornly as the
Lost Dryad bereft of her oak-tree. To
prolong the youth and bring joy to the
lives of these children is the purpose of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>
this publication of the troubles and
adventures of The Lost Dryad.</p>
<p class="p4 noi">COS COB, CONNECTICUT,<br />
<span class="smcap">Thanksgiving day, 1911</span>.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter illowe24" id="i_chapdeco2">
<img src="images/i_chapdeco.jpg" alt="chapter deco" title="chapter deco" />
</div>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="Dryad">THE LOST DRYAD.</h2>
</div>
<div><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div>
<p class="drop-cap">There was once a dryad
who was truly lost. The
summer was drawing to
a close; the nights were
becoming cool, she had
no home, and she did
not know where she was.</p>
<p>Not long before, while she was
still in her oak tree, there had been a
terrible storm; the tree had been dashed
to the ground and splintered to pieces,
while the poor dryad had been blown
away, and away, and away, she did not
know where. Now she was looking
for another oak tree to live in, but she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
was lost, absolutely lost. One tree she
found, which she thought might shelter
her, but when she examined it she
found that it was getting old and its
trunk was badly cracked. After her
terrible experience she was afraid to go
into a cracked tree, and so she kept on
her way.</p>
<p>At a little distance, she saw a
village, shaded by trees, and the thought
came to her that she might possibly
find a home in a big oak there. That
would be fine, truly. She had never
lived in a village, it would be a new
experience.</p>
<p>So she kept on, but when she reached
the place she found that few of the
trees were oaks, and these were not
very well grown and too small for her.
It was nearly supper-time in the village
and, therefore, there were not many
people in the street, but presently she
met a big man with a cross face.</p>
<p>“Oho! Oho!” he cried, “who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span>
are you? You cannot go about the
street like that!”</p>
<p>The poor dryad was terribly
frightened. “Like what?” she asked.</p>
<p>“You must go home and dress,”
he said.</p>
<p>“I am dressed,” said she; “these
are all the clothes I ever wear.”</p>
<p>“Do you call these clothes?” he
said. “Come along with me! I am
a constable. I will take you to the
lock-up. You must be crazy! But
they will take care of you there and,
at any rate, will dress you properly.”</p>
<p>The poor dryad trembled from
head to foot. She did not know what
a lock-up was, but she knew it must be
a terrible place, and she had never seen
anyone look so cruel as this man. He
had already seized her by the arm, and
if his grasp should become tighter, she
believed her arm would break in two.
Poor, weak, beautiful dryad! What
could she do?</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_s.jpg" alt="S" title="S" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>
thought of something.
It was her only hope!
It must be remembered
that there is a peculiar
property pertaining to
the kiss of a dryad.
Whenever a dryad kisses a human being,
that person becomes ten years younger.
So all good mothers are very careful
to keep their children away from large
oak trees. If a girl, of a dozen years,
were to sit in the shade of one of these
trees, she might attract the attention of an
affectionate tree dweller; and then, if this
dryad should kiss her, the little toddler
of two years might go home—if perchance,
she remembered where she lived—and
astound her parents. But if a
child who was not yet ten should be
kissed, it would disappear utterly.</p>
<p>The dryad remembered her rare
gift, as she looked up tearfully into the
stern face of the constable.</p>
<p>“Please, sir,” she said, “don’t take<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>
me away; I shall be frightened to death
if you do. I have something to tell you,
but only you must hear it. Please let
me whisper it to you.”</p>
<p>The constable looked at her. He
was fond of hearing secrets, and it was
quite proper that people should confide
in him. So he bent down his head to
hear what the dryad had to say. In a
moment she kissed him twice, and, before
he had time to notice the change,
he was a man of thirty years of age,
vigorous and handsome. He released
his grasp upon her arm and stood up,
straight and tall.</p>
<p>“Oho!” he cried, “and who are
you?”</p>
<p>“Put down your head,” said the
dryad, “and let me tell you.” Then
she gave him two more kisses.</p>
<p>Now there stood before her a boy
of ten, very much troubled.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what is the matter
with my clothes,” said he, “my breeches<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span>
are all down about my feet. They are
like an old man’s trousers. And my shoes
and stockings! Where did I get such big
shoes and stockings? And this great
jerkin, it is too big for me. I am going
to throw it off.”</p>
<p>“That is right, little boy,” said the
dryad, “throw it off, and pull off those
shoes and stockings; you can walk a
great deal better in your bare feet. You
must have been asleep and in a dream
you put on your father’s clothes.”</p>
<p>“I expect that was it,” said he, “it
must have been that.”</p>
<p>“Now run along home, little boy,”
said the dryad, “and carry carefully your
father’s jerkin and his shoes and stockings.
Perhaps if you put them where
you found them, he may never know.
Now run along!”</p>
<p>And the little boy ran along.</p>
<p>The dryad was now alone, but she
was still frightened. She was sure there
were no trees here which would suit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span>
her and she was afraid of meeting some
other cruel person, so she slipped into a
side street, and there she saw a light
coming through a glass door. This was
the only light in the street and she
went up to it and looked in.</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_i.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">Inside was a small room,
not very well furnished,
and by a table, with a
light on it, there sat a
girl, trimming a hat.
The dryad smiled with
pleasure; she was not afraid of a girl,
especially one who was so pretty, and
looked so gentle. Perhaps she might
tell her where there was a good oak tree;
so she opened the door, without making
any noise, and stepped in.</p>
<p>At first the girl was startled and
dropped the hat she was trimming, but
when the dryad quickly told her who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span>
she was and what a sad plight she
was in, she was reassured. She had
heard of dryads and was glad to see one.</p>
<p>“But you must remember this,”
she exclaimed, “on no account must you
kiss me. I am engaged to be married
and I would not have you kiss me, for
the world.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no! no! no!” said the dryad,
“no matter how good you are to me, I
shall be very careful. And can you tell
me where there is a large oak tree?”</p>
<p>“I do not remember any,” said the
girl, “but I expect you sorely need one
for you must feel cold in the evening.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no!” said the dryad, “I am
not cold. But what a beautiful hat you
are making! Such lovely silk and lace
you are putting on it!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said the girl, holding up the
hat before the lamp, “I am trying to
make it pretty, but this silk is tarnished;
it has lost a good deal of its color. My
step-mother thinks it is good enough for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>
me and so I must do the best I can with it.”</p>
<p>“Poor girl!” said the dryad, “she
ought to give you the nicest stuffs there
are in the village, you are so pretty.”
And, moved by pity and affection, she
was about to give the girl a kiss of
sympathy, but remembering just in time
that that would never do, she kissed the
hat. Instantly the silk and the lace were
as bright and new as if they had just
come out of the shop. The dryad exclaimed
with delight.</p>
<p>“Look! look!” she cried, “did you
ever see more charming colors?”</p>
<p>The girl had never seen more
charming colors, but her countenance fell.</p>
<p>“They are very pretty,” she said,
“but what an old-fashioned hat! It
looks like one of those hats people used
to wear ten years ago.”</p>
<p>Now the poor dryad was greatly
troubled. “Have I spoiled it?” she said.
“Oh! I shall be too sorry if I have done
that.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p>
<p>The girl turned the hat around and
looked at it on every side.</p>
<p>“Of course, I could not wear it as
it is,” she said, “but I am sure I can alter it.
Yes, I can change the shape and then,
with these new trimmings, it will be
perfectly lovely. I thank you ever so
much. But please do not come any
nearer; you might forget yourself.”</p>
<p>“And you are going to be married?”
asked the dryad.</p>
<p>“Yes, truly, if I can,” said the girl,
“but my step-mother does not wish it;
she wants me to stay here and work for
her. But I shall be patient and, in the
meantime, I am so glad that he will see
me in my new hat.”</p>
<p>“And is your step-mother so very
cross?” asked the dryad.</p>
<p>“Oh, very! If she were at home I
could not let you stay here, and as I expect
her to come back shortly, I am
afraid—”</p>
<p>The poor dryad clasped her hands.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span>
“You do not mean,” she said, “that I
must go away? I hoped that I might
stay here until the people of the village
were all in bed.”</p>
<p>“I am very sorry,” said the girl,
“but really, if my step-mother should
come back and see you here I don’t
know what would happen; but I will
tell you what I will do: I will lend you
one of my frocks and a cape, and you can
put on my sun-bonnet; then you can go
out and look for a tree and people will
not be apt to notice you, and if you will
come back after a while, when my step-mother
has gone to bed, I will go out
with you and help you to find a tree if
you have not found one. Oh, now please
don’t! People can be very grateful without
kissing, you know, and I will bring
you the clothes in a minute.”</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_w.jpg" alt="W" title="W" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">When<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>
the dryad had put
on the frock and the
little cape and the sun-bonnet,
she looked very
much like an ordinary
person, and when she
went out on the street nobody noticed
her, for there were girls in that village
who were so poor that they were
obliged to go barefooted.</p>
<p>This lost dryad had no very good
idea of time and, after she had walked
about the streets, and even a little way
into the country, looking for a tree and
finding none, she thought that the cruel
step-mother must surely have gone to
bed, and so she went back to the house
of her friend the girl, and opening the
door she slipped in. There she saw the
cruel step-mother scolding the girl. As
she entered, the step-mother stopped
short in her scolding, and the poor girl
looked as if she was about to faint.</p>
<p>“Heigho!” cried the woman, “and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>
who is this? How dare you come in
without knocking? What! Where did
you get that sun-bonnet? You wretched
creature!” she cried, addressing her step-daughter,
“what does this mean? And
your cape and your frock?” And without
waiting for an answer she stepped up to
the dryad.</p>
<p>“Take that off this minute, whoever
you are!” she cried, and as she said this
she grasped the sun-bonnet and pulled
it from the dryad’s head.</p>
<p>The girl almost fainted and sank
into a chair, while the poor dryad, nearly
scared out of her wits, had barely
sense enough left to throw her arms
around the step-mother’s neck and give
her four kisses, as quick as lightning.</p>
<p>The next day was the step-mother’s
birthday, and she intended to celebrate
the occasion by inviting some of her old
cronies to sup with her; but now there
was a little girl standing on the floor,
beginning to cry. The dryad clapped<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span>
her hands with delight.</p>
<p>“So many clothes,” she exclaimed,
“and such a dear little body in the
middle of them all!”</p>
<p>The girl with the hat cried out,
“Oh, what have you done!” But, in spite
of her consternation, she could not help
laughing.</p>
<p>“She does look funny,” said she.
There was such a difference between
the little child and the cross step-mother,
that it was impossible for any one to be
really sorry.</p>
<p>“How queer it is!” said the dryad.
“She knows nothing at all of the life
she has lived.”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” said the girl, “she
could not look back on her future, you
know.”</p>
<p>“I want to go to bed,” said the little
one, rubbing her eyes, “and please take
these things off.”</p>
<p>“That is what we must do,” cried
the dryad, “we must undress her and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span>
put her to bed.”</p>
<p>“No, let me do it alone, you
might forget,” said the girl.</p>
<p>So the little child was put to bed
in the back room and, in a moment,
was asleep.</p>
<p>“Now I need not go away,” cried
the dryad.</p>
<p>“No, indeed,” said the girl, “I
should be afraid to be left alone with
that little thing who was my step-mother.”</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_t.jpg" alt="T" title="T" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">The dryad threw aside the
uncomfortable gown and
cape, and her face
sparkled with delight;
she was so glad that she
need not go away and
was so happy at what she had done.</p>
<p>“Now,” said she to the girl, “you
can be married, and you two can take
care of the little girl.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p>
<p>“Yes, I can be married,” said the
other, “but not immediately, and in the
meantime I must support this little child
and myself. I have no money and how
am I going to do that?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I wish I could help you,”
cried the dryad. “Could not I live here
until you are married? I really ought
to do something for you, and I will
never kiss you or the child.”</p>
<p>“But how could you help me?”
said the girl, smiling.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said the dryad,
reflecting, “perhaps there are some
people in the village who would like to
be younger.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said the girl, “that might do.
We could live here together and setup
a kisserie. It will be very pleasant for
me to have everything my own way
and not to be scolded, and I shall take the
best possible care of the child. I know
there are people who would like to be
kissed, but you will have to be very,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span>
very careful not to make mistakes.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I will do that!” cried the
dryad. “I promise you, that, from this
moment, I will never kiss anybody, old
or young, unless you tell me to.”</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_a.jpg" alt="A" title="A" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">At this moment, there
was a sound of hurrying
feet outside. The door
was thrown open and an
excited group of men
and women rushed into
the room.</p>
<p>“A dreadful thing has happened,”
cried one of the women; “the constable,
Johann Milder, has disappeared. He
left his clothes behind him. Stranger
yet, there is a little boy at his house
who says he lives there, and who he is
and where he came from nobody knows.
We have come to see your step-mother;
she is a wise woman and perhaps she
may help us. Where is she? Call her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span>
quickly!”</p>
<p>“She is here,” said the girl, and
stepping to the bed, she turned down
the covering.</p>
<p>Then all the people pushed into
the back room and when they saw the
sleeping child, two women fainted, just
where they stood. The others were so
much astounded that not one of them
could speak a word. Then the dryad,
who, so far, had not been noticed,
laughed out merrily. It was all so
funny that she could not help it.</p>
<p>At this the people turned and
stared at her. There were some among
them who had seen dryads and they set
up a great shout.</p>
<p>“A dryad!” they cried, “a wicked
spirit, a tree witch! She has done
this! She has been about with her sinful
kisses.”</p>
<p>With one accord the villagers
dashed at the dryad as if they would
pound her into pieces and trample them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span>
upon the floor.</p>
<p>But the dryad was in the door way,
between the two rooms, and she moved
so quickly that they could not touch
her. Had she felt free to do as she
pleased, she might have rushed in
among them and, in a very few minutes,
have made a kindergarten of the whole
company, but she had promised her
dear friend, the girl, that, without her
permission, she would never kiss anybody,
and she could not break her
word. So she fled through the open door
and away, and away, and away, until
she was far from the village.</p>
<p>It was not long before the dryad
came to the great oak which was old
and whose trunk was cracked.</p>
<p>“Ah!” she cried, “here is this tree
which I would not enter, but I shall
not despise it again. It will shelter me,
for a time, and I must no longer remain
out in this cruel world.”</p>
<p>So she slipped into the oak, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>
was so glad to feel herself safe that she
kissed the inside of the tree, over and
over again, telling it how thankful she
was to have its protection, and to feel
again as if she was at home.</p>
<div class="p2"><img class="drop-cap illowe4" src="images/i_drop_i.jpg" alt="I" title="I" /></div>
<p class="p2 drop-cap">It was not long before
the aged oak was a hundred
years younger;
strong, vigorous, clad in
the brightest green and
able to withstand the
fiercest storm.</p>
<p>Now, when the villagers knew
what had happened, they thought it
quite right that the girl should marry
and take care of the child who had been
her step-mother, and when the boy who
had been the constable grew up, he
married this child, and there was a great
deal more happiness in that village than
there would have been, if the lost dryad
had not come to it, looking for a tree.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class="tnote">
<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>
<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p>
<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p>
<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p>
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65841 ***</div>
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