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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-02 03:21:05 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-02 03:21:05 -0800 |
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diff --git a/75499-h/75499-h.htm b/75499-h/75499-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8460c89 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/75499-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3605 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The star jewels and other wonders | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.bbox {border: 2px solid; padding: 1em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph3 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph4 {text-align: left; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph5 {text-align: right; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph6 {text-align: left; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.xxlarge {font-size: 200%;} +.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} +.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: 3em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: 4em;} +.poetry .first {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +.antiqua { + font-family: Blackletter, Fraktur, Textur, "Old English Text MT", "Olde English Mt", + "Olde English", "Old English", "Engravers Old English BT", "Collins Old English", + "New Old English", Gothic, serif, sans-serif;} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowe28_125 {width: 28.125em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75499 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="bbox"> + +<p class="ph1"><span class="antiqua">By Abbie Farwell Brown</span></p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS.<br> +    Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq.<br> +    12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated.<br> +    Square 12mo, $1.10, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.21.</p> + +<p>A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated.<br> +    12mo, $1.00, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.09.</p> + +<p>IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated. 12mo,<br> +    $1.10, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.21. <i>School edition</i>,<br> +    50 cents, <i>net</i>, postpaid.</p> + +<p>THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY<br> +    BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p>THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq.<br> +    12mo, 85 cents, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, 95 cents.</p> + +<p class="ph1">HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br> +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span></p> +</div></div></div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1> +THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER<br> +WONDERS</h1> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span></p> +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i_frontis"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">WAVILOCKS AND THE CRAB (Page <a href="#Page_10">10</a>)</p></figcaption> +</figure> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="title page"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<p><span class="xxlarge">THE STAR JEWELS</span><br> +<span class="xlarge">AND OTHER WONDERS</span></p> + +<p>BY<br> +<span class="large">ABBIE FARWELL<br> +BROWN</span></p> + +<p>PICTURES BY ETHEL C. BROWN</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title_logo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></div> + +<p>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br> +<span class="antiqua">The Riverside Press, Cambridge</span><br> +1905</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +COPYRIGHT 1905 BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN<br> +<br> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br> +<br> +<i>Published September 1905</i></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"><i>To the Mermaid of the Pink Grotto</i></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Thanks are due to the publishers of <i>The Churchman</i> +for permission to reprint “The Star Jewels,” +“The Balloon Boy,” “Trees,” and “Child or +Fairy;” to <i>The Interior</i> for “Karl and the Dryad;” +and to <i>The Congregationalist</i> for “The Green Cap.”</p> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Why nature loves the number five,</div> +<div class="verse">And why the star-form she repeats.”</div> +</div></div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">FORE-WORD</h2> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">In the land of Far-away,</div> +<div class="indent">In the time of Used-to-be,</div> +<div class="verse">Wonders happened, so folk say,</div> +<div class="indent">Which we all should like to see.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">But perhaps, if we knew how,</div> +<div class="indent">In the pleasant land of Here,</div> +<div class="verse">In the lovely time of Now,</div> +<div class="indent">We could witness sights as queer.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Oh, for Faith without an end,</div> +<div class="indent">And the blessed eyes to see!</div> +<div class="verse">Let us beg the Fairies send</div> +<div class="indent">Such a gift to You and Me.</div> +</div></div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table> +<tr><th colspan="2"><i>Stories</i></th></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Star Jewels</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Balloon Boy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23"> 23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Green Cap</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41"> 41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Karl and the Dryad</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65"> 65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Indian Fairy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95"> 95</a></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><i>Rhymes</i></th></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Foreword</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_ix"> ix</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Ocean Wonders</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21"> 21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Balloons</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40"> 40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Child or Fairy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64"> 64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Trees</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_93"> 93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Fairies</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134"> 134</a></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><i>Pictures</i></th></tr> + +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Wavilocks and the Crab</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"> <i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Little Man</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31"> 31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Old Woman is surprised</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55"> 55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Karl and the Dryad</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73"> 73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Rob and the Indian Fairy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_131"> 131</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> +<p class="ph3">THE STAR JEWELS</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="Wavilocks and the Crab"></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">THE STAR JEWELS</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time there was a little mermaid +who lived down at the bottom of the sea in a +cave of pink coral. Her cheeks were as pink +as the coral itself; her teeth were like a row +of the pearls which hung around her neck; +and her hair—which was very long and +wavy—was as green as the greenest seaweed +you ever saw. And though green hair sounds +strange to us, it was accounted a mermaid’s +greatest beauty. Her name was Wavilocks. +Also she had instead of two rosy feet a funny +little scaly tail with which she steered herself +through the water. She was a famous swimmer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>Wavilocks was a pretty little mermaid, and +old Triton, her father, doted upon her and +spoiled her, as foolish papas sometimes do. He +gave his little daughter everything that she +wanted,—everything in the wide ocean which +a sea-child could wish. She had her own little +coral playroom, with its toys of shell and +sponge; and her pets among the fishes and curious +ocean creatures. She had a living flower-garden +of beautiful sea anemones, pink and +purple, yellow and red. She had a little chariot +all her own, in which to ride about the sea, +like the grown-up ocean folk. It was of pinky, +pearl-lined shell, most beautiful, and it was +drawn by a span of sea-horses, the sweetest +little fellows in the whole kingdom of Neptune.</p> + +<p>She had also the prettiest things for her +toilet,—golden combs, with which to comb +her long green hair, mirrors of polished pearl, +and fans of coral, scarves of silky seaweed, and +ornaments of shell. But the thing of which +she was most proud was the beautiful necklace +of pearls which her father had given her. +All the mermaids wore lovely necklaces, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> +Wavilocks had the most beautiful of any. +Old Triton, who knew every cave and corner +of the sea, had scoured and scraped the ocean +treasuries to find the finest pearls for his little +daughter. She wore always about her neck a +long rope of them, wound around and around, +such as the Sea Queen herself could not match. +Some of the pearls were as big as kernels of +corn; some were as big as grapes; and a few +were like hen’s eggs, as large and smooth, +and twice as white as the whitest. Nobody +ever saw such pearls as Wavilocks wore about +her neck every day of her life. The sea-mothers +found fault with doting old Triton, and said +he had no business to let a little mermaid wear +such gorgeous jewels. But when he told Wavilocks +of this, she chuckled and said that they +were jealous because they had no such jewels +themselves. She may have been partly right +about this, but they were right too in what +they said.</p> + +<p>Now you would think that Wavilocks must +have been contented and happy in her lovely +home, where she had everything that a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> +mermaid could wish. And she was happy so +long as she could have her own way. But +there came a time when she could not have +her own way, and then she grew sulky and +discontented. For days and days she moped +in her coral playroom, and nothing that poor +old Triton could do made her smile.</p> + +<p>What do you suppose she wanted? She had +happened to sit up one night later than a little +young mermaid should, and she had seen the +diamond stars twinkling in the sky. She wanted +them for a necklace! She declared that she +<i>must</i> have them for a necklace. She was tired +of her beautiful rope of pearls, and vowed that +she would not wear it any more unless she +could have the starry one to wear with it. +This made poor Triton very unhappy, for he +had taken great pride in his beautiful gift to +his little daughter, but now she cared nothing +at all for it, and demanded something which +he could not give her.</p> + +<p>The naughty little mermaid teased and wept +and refused to be good. “I shall cry always, +always, until I have those lovely stars. Boo-hoo!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> +she sobbed. Her father was at his wit’s +end. He worried and worried because it would +be dreadful to have Wavilocks always crying +for something which he could not give her. +He worried until his green hair began to turn +white, and his poor old eyes looked as wild as +those of a cuttle-fish. Then he said to himself:</p> + +<p>“I will go to King Neptune and see whether +he can help me or no. Perhaps he will tell me +how I can get the stars from the sky for Wavilocks, +for I am sure I do not know.”</p> + +<p>That very night Triton went to the King’s +beautiful palace in the deepest, greenest part +of the sea, and told him how his little daughter +needed a starry necklace which he could not +get for her. And he begged the Sea King to +tell him what must be done. But Neptune +looked very stern.</p> + +<p>“Tell your child,” he said, pulling his sea-green +beard, which waved to and fro in the +water, “tell her that she is an ungrateful +daughter, and that I forbid her to think any +longer of the far-off jewels. Already she has +the most beautiful necklace in the sea,—such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> +a one as not even my Queen can match. A +starry necklace is fit only for the Sky Queen +to wear. No other may possess those wonderful +jewels. There are fair enough gems in the +sea for any mermaid’s use. If she cannot be +content with them she shall be punished.”</p> + +<p>Old Triton was alarmed at these words, +for he could not bear to think of his dear daughter +being punished. Very sadly he went home, +and very sadly he told Wavilocks what the +King had said.</p> + +<p>“He does not wish me to have the starry +necklace, because the Queen has none,” pouted +the naughty little mermaid. “But I must have +it, I <i>will</i> have it, or I shall cry always and +always.”</p> + +<p>Instead of spanking her, as he should have +done, Triton only shook his head and said +sadly,—</p> + +<p>“I would gladly give it to you if I might, +dear daughter. But the King has spoken. +The stars are not for you; you must not even +think of them again. Never go out when they +are shining in the sky. Be a good girl, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> +to-morrow I will bring you a beautiful new +coral belt, such as no mermaid ever before +wore.”</p> + +<p>But Wavilocks sulked and sniffed and declared +that she did not want a coral belt, and +she would not kiss her kind father good-night. +He sighed and went away, poor merman, to +his thinking-place in a rocky cavern.</p> + +<p>Now there was one creature who had overheard +the talk between Wavilocks and her +father, and his little eyes gleamed wickedly +at mention of the starry necklace. The Crab +was the most evil of all the sea-creatures, and +old Triton had forbidden Wavilocks ever to +play with him or listen to his words. The sea-folk +hated the Crab because of his mischievousness +and because of his wicked history. +He had not always been the sneaking nuisance +of the sea. Once, long before, he had +lived in the sky. He was a cousin of the great +Sky Crab, the guardian of the star jewels, and +once he too had helped to take care of them. +But because he had tried to steal a few for +his own use, the big Sky Crab had indignantly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> +cast him out of heaven, down to the +lowest depths of the sea. Oh, yes, the Crab +knew all about the stars which Wavilocks so +longed to own!</p> + +<p>Wavilocks had never been told this story, +but she knew that she must never have anything +to do with the ugly, crawling fellow. +And so, when she heard his harsh voice close +beside her cradle, she ought not to have +listened.</p> + +<p>“Hist!” said the voice. “Hist!”</p> + +<p>Wavilocks knew who it was, and she knew +that sly whisper meant mischief. She herself +was feeling very naughty.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Crab?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“I have accidentally overheard what you +were saying to Master Triton,” he hissed, +“and I do not blame you at all. The King +is wrong. You, fairest Mermaid, ought to +wear the starry necklace,—it is your right. +The jewels are said to be even more beautiful +when closely seen. But they are hardly fair +enough for you!”</p> + +<p>So spoke the wicked old Crab with a flattering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> +tongue. Wavilocks was pleased. “I +should like to see them closely,” she said.</p> + +<p>“One could climb up there, I think,” said +the Crab slyly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how? Tell me how it can be done, +dear Crab?” cried Wavilocks eagerly. The +Crab winked one eye.</p> + +<p>“There is a silver staircase that leads up to +the moon. Sometimes one can see it, sometimes +not. To-night it is very bright. The +moon is a round silver doorway through which +streams light, and beyond it is a beautiful +land where my cousin, the Sky Crab, lives and +has charge of the star jewels. I have always +wanted to go up there and see him, but I do +not care to go alone. If I could find some one +to go with me—” The Crab stopped and +sighed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how I should like to go with you, +Crab!” exclaimed Wavilocks, sitting up on +the edge of her cradle. “But my father and +the King have forbidden me even to think of +the starry jewels.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” whispered the Crab. “Come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> +with me to-night, and for my sake my cousin +will give you all the stars you wish.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I dare not go!” sighed Wavilocks. +“The King will punish me for disobeying +him.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh!” snorted the Crab. “He would +never know. Let us go this very night. I +long to see my dear cousin. I can scarcely +wait another minute!” (What a wicked story +that was!)</p> + +<p>Wavilocks slipped out of her cradle. “I +can hardly wait another minute to have those +star jewels!” she cried. “Yes, I will go. +Come then, wise Crab, and show me the way.”</p> + +<p>“I will take you upon my back,” said the +Crab. “We shall travel faster so, since you +have no feet for climbing.”</p> + +<p>Wavilocks seated herself upon his broad +shell, and away he crawled, the wicked fellow, +very stealthily, so as not to be seen by the +grown-up sea people, and especially by old +Triton.</p> + +<p>Up and up they went until they came to +the surface of the sea, where the big silver<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> +moon was shining upon the water, glorious +and bright.</p> + +<p>“Look where the flight of silver stairs +comes down to the sea,” said the Crab, pointing +with his claw. “We will climb up there, +Wavilocks, and pay a visit to my dear cousin. +How glad he will be to see us!” And he +chuckled wickedly to think how he was going +to repay the Big Crab for having turned him +out of the sky.</p> + +<p>Out to the bright spot upon the water where +the silver moonbeam staircase touched the sea +crept the Crab, with Wavilocks upon his back. +And no one saw them go. They reached the +foot of the stairs and began to climb,—up +and up, step by step, while the little mermaid’s +green hair streamed out behind. Her +long pearl necklace she used as a bridle, and +so she drove her strange steed up the steep +way, until they reached the silver gateway of +the moon. The door was open, and from the +wonderful sky-land beyond the light streamed +out, so that Wavilocks was dazzled. But she +was even more dazzled when they had passed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> +through the gateway and came out upon the +wide sky floor, where burned and flashed, with +a thousand rainbow colors, the five-pointed star jewels +which she had seen shining from afar.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the beautiful diamond stars!” cried +Wavilocks. “Let us make haste to find your +cousin, the Big Crab, that he may give us +some for my necklace.”</p> + +<p>But the Crab winked his eye. “We need +not wait for that,” he said. “My cousin loves +me so well that I am sure of his generosity to +you. Let us pick all we wish first, and then we +will go to him. But hist! We must be very +quiet about it, or the other sky-people will +learn what is being done, and will be jealous.”</p> + +<p>The two set eagerly to work, gathering up +the jewels which lay sprinkled over the velvet +sky-carpet like daisies in a meadow. The Crab +gathered them star by star with his clumsy claw, +as one would pick berries. Wavilocks scooped +the five-pointed stars by handfuls, and poured +them into the great conch shell which she had +brought for the purpose, until it was brimming +over with rainbow flashes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>“Oh, what a wonderful necklace I shall +have,—grander than any one ever saw before!” +cried the greedy little mermaid.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how angry the old Crab will be when +he sees how we have robbed his treasure!” +chuckled her wicked companion to himself; +and they went to work even faster than before.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a loud noise behind +them.</p> + +<p>“Wooh! Hooh!” cried a terrible voice. +“Robbers, wretched robbers, what are you +doing with my jewels?”</p> + +<p>Wavilocks screamed and the Sea Crab gave +a snort of fear. There behind them was the +Big Crab, sprawling his enormous ugly shape +among the stars. His great claws were snapping +viciously, and his goggle eyes were glaring +at the pair, as he crawled nearer and +nearer.</p> + +<p>“It is the Crab!” gasped Wavilocks’ companion. +“I am lost!” and away he scuttled +as fast as his claws would take him, while the +little mermaid clung to his back as well as she +could, for he had quite forgotten her. Then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> +began a dreadful race to the shining staircase. +The great Sky Crab clattered after them, puffing +and blowing out fire.</p> + +<p>“Wicked Sea Crab,” he cried, “so it is +you who again are seeking to rob me of the +precious stars entrusted to my care. You have +come up here from your nasty, moist den in +the sea, to which I tossed you. Moreover, you +have brought this strange sea-creature to help +you steal the jewels. Ah! this time I will +punish you both.”</p> + +<p>They could feel the flaming breath of the +Big Crab. It scorched, it sizzled, it melted +the hard shell of the Sea Crab until it became +soft and useless. It crisped the mermaid’s +pretty green hair, which streamed out behind +her in their rapid flight. Wavilocks screamed. +Her awkward steed hissed with terror, dislodging +many stars from their settings as he scrambled +among them. At last they were almost +safe at the head of the staircase, when Wavilocks +felt the great claw of the Big Crab seize +the necklace of pearls which hung about her +neck. Snap! The string broke, and the pearls<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> +went flying helter-skelter over the sky, scattering +themselves among the stars.</p> + +<p>“My necklace, oh, my necklace!” wailed +she, but they could not stop to gather up the +lost pearls.</p> + +<p>They had reached the stairs. The Crab +plunged forward, and they tumbled and rolled +and slid down from the sky to the sea, into +which they fell with a great splash. Glad +enough they were to cool their poor scorched +bodies in the wetness. Down, down, they sank +together to the bottom of the ocean, two very +miserable creatures.</p> + +<p>Now the Crab had shriveled and shrunk +and become the tiniest, most pitiful little fellow +you ever saw. Moreover he was now quite +helpless and unprotected.</p> + +<p>For his hard shell, which had served him as +a shield against his enemies, was now melted +and soft, and was no longer of any use to him. +He was at the mercy of the whole sea, which +was indignant at his new wickedness. Thenceforth +he must slink and hide away wherever +he could, an outcast thief. He became the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> +Hermit Crab, whom to-day one finds borrowing +the shells which other tiny creatures have +abandoned, creeping away into dim corners, +and always carrying his home upon his back, +because he is afraid to venture his poor, unprotected +body out of doors.</p> + +<p>Neptune decreed that the wicked Crab +needed no other punishment worse than this. +As for Wavilocks, she also had been punished +enough. The beautiful green hair which had +been her pride was scorched into an ugly +brown. Sobbing with shame, she cut it off—all +its splendid length, and tossed it away into +the sea. Sometimes you may find strands of it +nowadays, washed ashore by the tide. Long, +long afterward her green hair grew again; but +for months and years she was laughed at and +teased about her short mop of brown hair, +so unfashionable in the sea-kingdom. A sad +little mermaid she was in those days. For not +only had she lost her wavy locks, but the +lovely rope of pearls was gone forever, scattered +among the jewels of the sky. You can see +some of them to this day if you look hard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> +among the flashing stars; bright jewels they +are, but they do not twinkle like the others. +The Big Crab now watches over them also +with his other treasures, and it would have +to be a sly thief indeed who could steal them +back again. Wavilocks must go without any +necklace, although the other mermaids wear +theirs proudly. Yes, she has no necklace at all. +For what do you think became of the stars +which she went so far to steal and had so sad +a time in gathering?</p> + +<p>Wavilocks had clung closely to the conch +shell which held her stolen treasure during all +the terrible time of her fall down the silver +staircase. And when she came to the bottom +of the sea she still held it fast. But alas! +When the poor little scorched mermaid came +to look at the stars which she had hoped to +wear about her neck, she found that they had +sadly changed. The shell was full of something +living, something squirming and cold. +One by one she took out the five-pointed stars +which had been so beautiful, and they had +come alive; they were star-fish! The first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> +star-fish that had ever been seen in the +ocean.</p> + +<p>How Wavilocks screamed when the moist, +writhing feelers touched her hand! So this +was the end of the lovely necklace which she +had hoped to wear so proudly,—a conch shell +full of ugly, wriggling sea-stars. She tossed +them away as far as she could, and fled +sobbing to her poor old father, who tried to +comfort her, and forgot to punish her for disobeying +him.</p> + +<p>Poor little sea-stars! One cannot help pitying +them, who used to be the beautiful jewels +of the sky. One sees them sometimes lying +in the pools, red and purple, blue, pink and +yellow; beautiful colors indeed, such as jewels +have, but no longer sparkling and clear, as +once they were. They lie and stare up wistfully +through the green water, up at the sky which +was once their home, up at the other stars of +which they were once the shining brothers.</p> + +<p>And it was all the fault of the naughty +little mermaid, who was not wise enough to +know when she was happy.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">OCEAN WONDERS</h2> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse"> +Far below the purple waves,</div> +<div class="verse">In the hidden ocean caves,</div> +<div class="verse">Floating softly to and fro,</div> +<div class="verse">Wonder-creatures come and go.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Monsters hideous and queer,</div> +<div class="verse">Curious lovely shapes and dear</div> +<div class="verse">Dwell beneath the silent tide,</div> +<div class="verse">Where the rainbow fishes glide.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Who can say what things may be</div> +<div class="verse">In the mystic, magic sea?</div> +<div class="verse">In the depths so cool and green</div> +<div class="verse">Which no man has ever seen?</div> +<div class="verse">And what wonders happen there</div> +<div class="verse">Such as mortals may not share?</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">But a bit of pearly shell,</div> +<div class="verse">Or of sea-weed green, may tell</div> +<div class="verse">Just a hint of secret lore</div> +<div class="verse">As we walk along the shore.</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> + +<p class="ph3">THE BALLOON BOY</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i025.jpg" alt="Carlo selling balloons on the corner"></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">THE BALLOON BOY</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Carlo</span> was the brown-skinned boy who stood +on the corner of the Avenue every morning +with a great bunch of red and blue balloons +tied to a stick. Carlo used to wait smiling for +the children to come up with their nurses and +pick out the balloons with which they loved +to play. The balloons bobbed and danced +above Carlo’s head as if they wanted to fly +away. Indeed, one of them once succeeded in +escaping, just after it had been bought by +little Johnny Parker. Johnny had forgotten +to hold it tight, and <i>Pouf!</i> Off it sailed over +the trees. No one ever knew what became of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> +that little red balloon, which soared up far beyond +the reach of Johnny’s wailing. But the +other little balloons were always trying to +follow after, and sometimes they pulled so +hard at the strings that they seemed almost +ready to lift Carlo off his feet and bear him +with them over the tree-tops.</p> + +<p>Carlo was a happy boy, for he had come +from a happy country where the people still +believe in fairies, and he had not lived in this +land long enough to catch the disease which +makes one believe that there are “no such +things as the Little People.” Carlo was a kind +boy, and he loved the little children who +bought balloons of him and paid their pennies +into his rough, brown hand. Carlo had a little +sister at home in the old country, and when +he had earned money enough by selling red +and blue balloons he meant to send for Nita +to come and live with him, so they could have +a little home of their own.</p> + +<p>One morning it rained hard, oh, very hard! +Carlo did not go out to the Avenue, for he +knew that the children would all stay indoors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> +that day, playing in their nurseries with their +house toys. But in the afternoon, after dinner-time, +the rain cleared away and the sun came +out, hot and bright and beautiful, so that the +sidewalks were soon as dry as dry. Then Carlo +took his bunch of balloons and trudged to the +corner, where he always stood. For he knew +that all the nurses and all the babies, tired of +being in the house, would soon be hurrying +out for an airing in the Park. And of course +they would need balloons.</p> + +<p>Carlo took up his station as usual on the +corner where the Avenue stops short before +the high gates, and wishes it could go on into +the Park. This was where the children looked +to find him every day, and he had never yet +disappointed them.</p> + +<p>It was just the hour when the big boys +are let out of school. Carlo had forgotten +this. He did not like big boys. Suddenly—with +a rush and a whoop—a crowd of them +came tearing around the corner from the next +street. They raced up and down the Avenue, +shouting and laughing and full of mischief,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> +for they had been shut up all this rainy day +and were glad to be out of doors once more. +As they came running back down the Avenue, +one of them spied Carlo standing on +the corner.</p> + +<p>“Hallo! Balloons!” shouted the boy, and +immediately the noisy crowd rushed upon +Carlo and surrounded him.</p> + +<p>“Give me a red one!”</p> + +<p>“Hi! Blue’s my color!”</p> + +<p>“Pass me down a red one, quick, or I’ll +cut the whole string!” But they offered him +no money in exchange. Carlo held back, trying +to defend his balloons from their snatching +fingers. Then one boy cried,—</p> + +<p>“Ho! Let’s cut the whole string, anyway, +and see them go!” And quick as a flash, before +Carlo had time to do anything, a sharp +penknife had severed the string above the +stick, and away went forty balloons, sailing +over the trees merrily, glad to be free.</p> + +<p>The boys gave a yell and danced up and +down. But some one cried, “Look out! +Here’s a policeman!” and off they scampered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> +in every direction, before Carlo fairly knew +what they had done. Yes, there was a policeman, +but he had not seen what had happened, +and already he was turning the corner. Even +if Carlo could catch up with him he could +not speak enough English to tell the man his +troubles. Besides, not even a policeman could +bring back those flying balloons.</p> + +<p>Poor Carlo! No customers for him this +day. He looked down at the bare stick in his +hand, and then up to where he could just see +some tiny specks on the blue sky, far, far +away. The balloons were seeking their little +brother who escaped long before. Carlo’s eyes +filled with tears, for he was not a very big +boy, and this was a dreadful thing which had +happened to him. Already the procession of +babies was coming down the Avenue, eager to +buy Carlo’s balloons. But he had nothing to +sell them this afternoon.</p> + +<p>Slowly and sadly he turned away and slunk +down a side street toward another entrance to +the Park. But the children wondered what +had become of their balloon boy, who was always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> +waiting for them on the corner, smiling +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Carlo wandered into the Park and walked +about the twisting paths, wondering what he +should do. He had no money to buy more +balloons. How could he start out afresh in +business? He had sent his last earnings back +across the water to the little sister in the land +where they still believed in fairies, and she +had saved almost enough to bring her here to +him. But now, what was he to do now? How +buy food and lodging, and especially how +buy more balloons with which to pile up future +pennies?</p> + +<p>Carlo wandered about for a long time, thinking +and puzzling, until the shadows began +to lengthen, and it was almost night. Then +he went to a little arbor in the Park, far +from the place where the nurses and children +mostly gathered. It was a spot that he loved, +for it was full of grape-vines, which reminded +him of the beautiful home from which he +had come,—the country where the fairies still +lived. He was very tired and hungry, and he +curled up on a settee in the arbor and went +to sleep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31-32]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i031"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i031.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">THE LITTLE MAN</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>He must have slept a long time, for when +he woke the Park was quite dark, save +where the electric lights made queer patches +of brightness among the leaves and on the +grass and gravel walks. In the arbor itself +hung a light which made the grape-vine with +its half-ripened clusters look strange but very +beautiful.</p> + +<p>Carlo awoke with a start, for he had certainly +felt something touch his knee. Yes! Carlo +looked again, and rubbed his eyes. There at +his knee stood a little man,—a little, thick +man in a queer long gown, with a rope about +his waist,—one of the very same Little Men +of whom his mother had often told him in +the land across the sea!</p> + +<p>“What is the matter, Carlo?” asked the +Little Man, in Carlo’s own home language. +And Carlo answered in the same soft tongue:</p> + +<p>“The boys have cut my balloons away, and +I have nothing left with which to earn my +living, that I may send money to Nita.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>“That is too bad!” exclaimed the Little +Man. “What can we do about it?”</p> + +<p>Carlo stared hard at him, for he had always +wanted to see a Little Man. His hat was tall +and had a broad brim, and on his feet were +sandals. His brown gown clung tight about +him, like the skin upon a russet apple, seeming +ready to burst with the plumpness inside. +His cheeks, too, seemed ready to burst with +laughing, even when Carlo told him the story +of the boys’ wicked deed.</p> + +<p>“That is too bad!” he cried again, but not +sadly. “What can we do about it?”</p> + +<p>He glanced thoughtfully around the arbor +in which they were sitting. It was a grape +arbor, as I have said, and already the grapes +were beginning to turn red and purple in the +autumn coolness, though some were still green.</p> + +<p>“The bad boys will steal them,” said the +Little Man to himself, looking at the grapes. +“They will not bring good to any one, only +stomach-aches.” Carlo wondered what he +could possibly mean. Still the Little Man +stared around the arbor, nodding his head<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> +slowly up and down, as if making up his mind +about something very important. At last he +turned to Carlo and asked suddenly,—</p> + +<p>“Do you know where I came from?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Carlo. “I have been wondering. +You do not seem to belong to this country +at all.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said the Little Man. “They +don’t even believe in me here, so they never, +never see me—how could they? The babies +who play over there,”—and he twisted his +thumb toward the fountain and the sand-heap,—“even +if they were to come in here +now, could not see me. For their stupid nurses +have told them that I don’t exist. Perhaps there +might be one or two who still believe; and of +them I should have to be very careful. For I +don’t want to be discovered. But they do not +often come here.”</p> + +<p>“I come here often,” said Carlo.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” chuckled the Little Man, +“naturally!”</p> + +<p>“But how happens it that you are here?” +asked Carlo, eagerly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>“Why, I came with you, to be sure. I am +the Little Man of your father’s house. And +when you left the dear old country over the +sea you brought me with you.” The Little +Man sighed. Carlo sighed too. But quickly +he remembered to be polite. “It was very +good of you to come,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” answered the Little Man. +“I had to follow. Some of them bring poison +creatures in the fruit which they sell,—tarantulas +and scorpions. Some of them bring +measles, and the evil-eye, and other dreadful +things. But you brought <i>me</i>, and I have +been watching over you ever since. I am +glad you come here every day, so I can live +in this very nice place. Now I am going to +help you.”</p> + +<p>Carlo thanked him, but he seemed not to +hear. Nimbly as a squirrel he was climbing +up the vine which draped the arbor with its +leaves and grapes. Presently down he came +again, and in his hand he held a fine bunch of +grapes, purple and red and green.</p> + +<p>“It is not stealing,” he said, in a whisper,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> +“for this bunch has stopped ripening; I can +tell by signs which a fairy knows. It would +soon wither, and would not even attract the +bad boys. So I will use it for my purposes. +Now, please give me your stick.”</p> + +<p>Carlo handed him the shorn stick, wondering. +With a few deft knots the Little Man +tied the bunch of grapes to the handle, where +the balloons used to bob.</p> + +<p>“What!” he cried, nodding delightedly, +“There you are! Now of course you must go +to sleep again. I cannot let you see how the +last touches are done.” He tapped Carlo three +times on the forehead. Immediately Carlo’s +eyes began to close, his head nodded, and +before he knew it he was lying on the bench +in the arbor, snoring lustily and forgetting all +his troubles.</p> + +<p>Then the Little Man must have done something +very strange and wonderful and marvelous; +though no one saw him, and so no one +knows just what that something was. But +when in the morning Carlo awoke with a start, +a baby in a pink dress stood in the arbor holding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> +out a little hand in which was a silver +dime, and he was saying,—</p> + +<p>“Please, Boy, give me a <i>green</i> balloon!”</p> + +<p>Carlo jumped up and reached for the stick, +which was propped between the bars of the +seat beside him. And what do you think? +The bunch of purple and red and green grapes +seemed to have grown and grown, and swelled +and swelled, until each grape had turned into +a beautiful big balloon of the same color! And +that is why on that particular day Carlo had +some green balloons in his bunch, although the +children had never seen any like them before. +And he sold one to the pink baby, and others +to the other babies who came crowding around +when he went out upon the Avenue, until the +green balloons were all gone. For of course +the babies wanted the unusual kind first. But +after that he sold off the ordinary blue and +red ones, and went home with his pockets full +of dimes, and with nothing more on the end +of his stick than when the bad boys let loose +his bunch of balloons. But now there were no +tears in his eyes—no, indeed!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>Now I do not know just what happened +next. But Carlo always looks smiling and +happy about something. The children buy his +balloons every day, and every night he carries +home a pocketful of silver. Carlo is growing +rich. And now little Nita has come across the +sea to be with him. When the cold weather +comes I daresay the Little Man will go to live +in their house, as he did in their old home in +the land where people still believe in fairies. +But you may be sure that as long as he can he +will stay in the pretty grape-vine arbor. If you +are one of the wise children who believe in +him, perhaps you will see him there yourself, +some day. At any rate, whether you believe +in the Little Man or not, if you go at the right +time you will be sure to see the Balloon Boy, +sitting on the bench and smiling happily at +something, with the bunch of red and blue +balloons bobbing over his head. And if you +pay ten cents you may have a balloon all for +your own, which will tug and tug and will +try to get away, just as little Johnny Parker’s +did.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">BALLOONS</h2> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="indent3">Where do they go,</div> +<div class="indent3">I want to know,</div> +<div class="verse">The little balloons which fly, and fly,</div> +<div class="verse">Over the trees and up so high</div> +<div class="indent3">Into the sky?</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Do they sail as far as Heaven’s gate,</div> +<div class="verse">Where chubby cherubs watch and wait,</div> +<div class="verse">Who stretch out their hands with an eager cry</div> +<div class="verse">As the little balloons come floating by?</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Do the cherubs play with the pretty things,</div> +<div class="verse">Flitting about on their baby wings,</div> +<div class="verse">While the little balloons bob to and fro,</div> +<div class="verse">Just as they did in the world below?</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">They never come back the tale to tell,</div> +<div class="verse">So no one knows what each befell.</div> +<div class="indent3">But if they can stay</div> +<div class="indent3">In that Land for aye,</div> +<div class="verse">Where the sun ever shines and the sky is blue,</div> +<div class="indent">I do not blame them for longing to fly</div> +<div class="verse">Over the trees and up so high;</div> +<div class="indent">And when mine goes I will not boo-hoo,—</div> +<div class="indent3">Will you?</div> +</div></div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> + +<p class="ph3">THE GREEN CAP</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i043.jpg" alt="The old woman and the monkey"></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">THE GREEN CAP</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> upon a time in the far East, where +people live upon rice and tea, a little old +woman dwelt all alone in a tiny hut on the +edge of the forest. The little old woman was +very, very poor; but she was a brave soul, and +so long as there was a little tea in her little +teapot, a little rice in her little rice bucket, +and a little water in her well she would smile +a little smile and say, “Oh, I have enough, +and that is all which any one needs in this +world. I am doing very well indeed.”</p> + +<p>But there came an evil time for the poor +little old woman. There was a drought in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> +land, and all the wells ran dry. There was a +famine, and no more rice nor tea were to be +had for love or money. One night the little +old woman went about to get her evening +meal and she was very, very hungry. First +she went to draw a dipper of water from the +well. But when she peered down into the +well she saw that it was almost dry.</p> + +<p>“Alack!” she cried, “when I have used +this last dipper of water there will be none +left for to-morrow. After that I must go dry. +And how long can I live so?”</p> + +<p>Slowly and sadly she went back to the house +and took her little rice bucket down from the +shelf on the wall. But when she opened it she +saw only a few grains of rice scantily covering +the bottom of the bucket.</p> + +<p>“Alack!” she cried, “when I have taken +out the handful for my supper there will be +no more left for to-morrow. After that I must +go hungry. And how long can I live so?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head mournfully and went to +her little teapot, which hung before the fire. +But when she took off the cover thereof she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> +cried again, “Alack and alas! Now even my +tea is gone, and whatever shall I do? There +is but a drop in the pot, and when I have +eaten my supper there will be none left for +the morrow. After that I must go thirsty. +But so I cannot live. Day after to-morrow I +shall die!” And the poor little old woman +shed a tear which almost fell into the teapot to +salt the last drop of tea which remained there.</p> + +<p>Now she sat down to her scanty supper and +hesitated to take the first mouthful, for it +would so soon be gone. She gave a sigh and +a groan as she lifted the little teapot to pour +out the last drop of tea, for the little old +woman loved her tea best of all.</p> + +<p>Just at that moment there came a knock on +the door, a low-down knock such as a very +little child might reach to give.</p> + +<p>“Tap—tap!”</p> + +<p>“Come in!” said the little old woman, and +she set down the teapot carefully.</p> + +<p>The latch clicked, the door opened, and in +came a queer little creature the size of a child +and walking upright upon two legs; but it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> +was not a child. It was a funny little monkey, +with a wee black face and a curled-up handy +tail, and on its head it wore a tiny green cap.</p> + +<p>“Ugh!” cried the little old woman, who +did not like monkeys, “Ugh, go away!”</p> + +<p>But the monkey skipped briskly across the +floor to the fireplace, and stood there shivering +and holding out its small hands to the blaze +quite as a little child might have done. The +old woman stared at it in surprise. “Bless my +stars, how ugly it is!” she said. “But the +poor thing seems cold. Let it stay and warm +itself if it wishes.”</p> + +<p>At these words the monkey turned about +and made a low courtesy to the little old +woman.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” said she again, for she +had never seen so remarkable an animal, even +in the land where monkeys were common.</p> + +<p>Now the monkey had ceased to shiver, and +it came skipping up to the table where the +old woman sat, ready to eat her supper.</p> + +<p>“Ugh! Go away!” cried the little old +woman. “Go away, you ugly creature!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>But the monkey rested its chin upon the +board and looked wistfully at the supper. +“May I not share with you?” it seemed to +say, though it spoke no word, and it put its +little hands out towards the old woman, +beggar-fashion.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” cried the old woman +again, “it has the way of a child. But what +an ugly child! Ugh! I cannot bear to have +it near me. Yet—it is hard even for a monkey +to be hungry.” She looked at her scanty +dipper of water, at her little dish of rice, at +her teapot with its drop of tea.</p> + +<p>“I have but one dipper of water left, one +handful of rice, one drop of tea,” she said +ruefully. “When these are gone I know not +whence to-morrow’s food will come; yet, little +creature with the hands of a child, you shall +share with me so long as I have a morsel. I +cannot refuse those hands. But do not come +too near, for I love not monkeys.”</p> + +<p>Now the monkey seemed to understand +every word the old woman spoke, although it +could not answer in words. It bowed gratefully<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> +over its clasped hands as the old woman +helped it to half the scanty meal,—half the +dipper of water, half the rice, half a drop +squeezed from the little teapot. The monkey +ate hungrily, and when it had finished patted +its little stomach and grinned happily at the +old woman as if to say, “That was very good!”</p> + +<p>“I am glad you are satisfied,” said the old +woman with a sigh; “and now will you begone? +There is nothing more in the house +for guest or for host.”</p> + +<p>But the monkey laid its head to one side +upon its little hands and closed its eyes, showing +that it was fain of sleep. Then again it +held out its hands, beseeching the old woman.</p> + +<p>“Oho!” said she, “you want to sleep here, +too? Well-a-day! That ever I should have +an ugly monkey napping in my hut! But I +cannot turn a poor creature out into the cold +night. You may stay, but keep as far from +me as maybe, at the other corner of the cottage. +Come, now, let us sleep and try to forget +that to-morrow must be a hungry day.”</p> + +<p>So they slept, the old woman on her hard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> +little cot and the monkey curled up on the +floor, which was no whit harder. And the +old woman dreamed wonderful and beautiful +dreams.</p> + +<p>When it was light she opened her eyes, and +at first she thought she must still be dreaming, +for she had forgotten the happenings of the +last night. There was the monkey with its +little green cap on one side frisking about the +cottage, sweeping the hearth, tidying the corners +and setting things to rights.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” cried the little old woman. +At these words the monkey turned, and +with a grin beckoned towards the table, where +dishes were already set out as if for a meal. +Then the old woman remembered what had +happened the evening before. But she remembered +also the empty cupboard, and sighed +wearily.</p> + +<p>“Breakfast!” she grumbled; “it is little +breakfast we shall have this day. Did we not +share yestereven the last dipper of water, the +last handful of rice, the last drop of tea? +There will scarcely be any breakfast for me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> +this day, and you, who are strong and frisky, +had best seek one elsewhere, leaving me to +die.”</p> + +<p>But the monkey shook its head, grinning +knowingly, and still beckoned to the table. It +lifted the dipper and showed how it was still +full of water. It lifted the cover from the +rice dish, and lo! there was a mess of steaming +white rice. It shook the little teapot, and +a drop trickled from the spout.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” cried the little old woman, +“last night my eyes must have cheated +me. I certainly thought there was not another +mouthful in the hut. Well, here is indeed a +goodly meal,” and she sat down to the table. +The monkey looked on wistfully, but did not +venture near. Presently the old woman looked +up.</p> + +<p>“What!” she cried, “shall you not share, +little guest, you who so cleverly prepared my +breakfast? Did I not say that you should +share so long as I had a morsel upon the +board? Come, then, and eat.”</p> + +<p>The monkey grinned happily and drew to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> +the table. The scanty meal was sufficient for +them both. When they had finished, the old +woman nodded her head at the monkey and +said,—</p> + +<p>“Even a morsel tastes better when one +shares it with company. But little I thought +that a monkey would prove so pleasant a +guest.”</p> + +<p>At these words the monkey squirmed with +happiness and frisked about the cottage like a +mad thing. After that it went on with the +household duties, quite like a handy little maid. +But when it had finished these it skipped out +of the door and disappeared into the forest.</p> + +<p>“Now it is gone forever,” said the old woman +with a little sigh, “and I shall be left +alone to die of hunger and cold. For even +my store of firewood is gone, and I have not +strength to go to the forest for more.” And +she sat down and cried bitterly, for the poor +old woman’s courage was quite gone.</p> + +<p>The daylight dimmed and the night came +on, and the old woman sat rocking herself to +and fro, trying to forget how hungry she was.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> +But presently the door burst open and in came +the monkey, staggering with arms full of fagots +for the fire. It made a bright blaze on the +hearth and then came timidly up to the old +woman and laid a hand upon her knee. This +time the old woman did not shrink or cry out, +“Ugh! Go away!” for she seemed no longer +to hate monkeys as once she had done. She +looked up with half a smile and said:</p> + +<p>“Ah, you have come back, little guest! I +thought you had deserted me. I know you +think it is supper-time; but nay, there will be +no supper to-night. There is naught in the +house for us to eat, or I would gladly share +it with so willing a helper.”</p> + +<p>But the monkey shook its head and drew +the old woman gently by the skirts towards the +door.</p> + +<p>“There is no use in going to the well,” said +the old woman; “it is quite dry.” But the +monkey continued to pull her dress, and at last +the old woman rose, shaking her head because +she knew that the quest was useless. The two +went out to the well, and the monkey let down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> +the bucket. When it came up the old woman +thrust in the dipper, and lo! she brought it +out full once more with clear, cool, sparkling +water.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” she cried in astonishment, +“there is witchcraft here,” and she +looked at the monkey suspiciously. But the +little creature only grinned.</p> + +<p>Once more it pulled at her skirts, as though +it would lead her back to the house. Wondering, +the old woman followed, dipper in hand. +The monkey led her straight to where the rice +bucket stood on the shelf. The old woman +shook her head hopelessly as she took down +the bucket, because she knew that it was as +empty as a last year’s bird’s nest. But when +she drew off the cover she nearly dropped it +with surprise. There was still a handful of +rice in the bottom of the bucket.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” cried the old woman, +and she looked again at the monkey. But the +monkey only grinned and pointed towards the +teapot.</p> + +<p>“That at least I know to be empty,” said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> +the old woman positively, “for I squeezed out +the last drop with my own hand.” But what +was her amazement when she tilted the spout +and out came an amber drop of comfort.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” again cried the old +woman. “Here is really enough for another +meal. Witchcraft or no, you have certainly +brought me good luck, little guest, and though +we may die of hunger to-morrow we should +greatly rejoice now, for we thought to be dead, +even this same day.”</p> + +<p>So that night passed, and another and still +others. Every morning, as at first, the monkey +prepared breakfast for the little old woman +ere she was awake. And still there remained +a dipperful of water in the well, a handful of +rice in the bucket, and a drop of tea in the +teapot. Every night the old woman found +the same for their supper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55-56]</span></p> +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i055"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i055.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">THE OLD WOMAN IS SURPRISED</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>She was growing very fond of this queer +little creature who helped her so heartily, and +she wondered how she could ever have disliked +monkey-folk. She even forgot that she had +once thought her guest ugly, for the small face +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>seemed, indeed, to have changed and to have +become more human. The old woman had +made for the monkey a pretty dress of green +to match the green cap which her guest ever +wore upon its head. The long tail which once +she had used as an extra strong hand had +shrunk away and disappeared beneath the +pretty dress; perhaps it was gone altogether—for +the monkey was certainly changing in +many ways, though the poor old woman was +too weak-eyed to see how greatly this was so.</p> + +<p>Now the weeks passed, and the months +passed, and it was exactly a year and a day +from the time when the monkey had first appeared. +On that morning the old woman woke +up and saw as usual the little green figure +flitting about the cottage, making things neat +and tidy, and preparing the tiny breakfast +which was always the same,—scanty and +simple, but sufficient for the two, with kindness +and good feeling to eke it out. This +morning, when the old woman was ready to +get up, the busy little creature came skipping +up to the cot. And as it stood looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> +down, smiling kindly, the old woman suddenly +blinked and rubbed her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Bless my stars!” she cried. “How big +you are! How pretty you have grown! What! +Who is this? You are not my little monkey, +you are a lovely girl smiling at me.”</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mother,” said a sweet voice. +“I am your little guest. I am the same poor +creature whom you took in out of kindness, +and whom you have allowed to dwell with +you this long year, sharing your scanty store. +I owe you more than words can say.”</p> + +<p>“Words!” cried the old woman, “and how +long since a monkey could use words?” She +sat staring blankly.</p> + +<p>“You see I am really the same,” said the +pretty girl. “I still wear the green dress which +you made for me and the green cap which +I had upon my head when I came to you. In +that green cap lies my secret. I am a Fairy, +Mother.”</p> + +<p>Then she told the old woman a strange +story,—how because she was naughty the +Fairy Queen had punished her by giving her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> +that ugly monkey-shape, which she must wear +for a year and a day. But at the end of that +time she could take her own shape and go +back to Fairyland. And now the time had +come.</p> + +<p>“But you have been so kind to me, dear +Mother, that I may give you one wish before +I go back to my beautiful home,” said the +Fairy maiden.</p> + +<p>Then the old woman burst into tears and +flung her arms around the neck of her little +guest. “Oh, do not leave me, kind Fairy-child!” +she said. “I love you very dearly, and +how shall I live without you? I loved you +when I thought you were only a little monkey, +but now I love you a thousand times more.”</p> + +<p>Gently the Fairy kissed her and said, “Now +hear what the gift is that I may give you. I +may give you one wish of three, and you shall +choose between them. You shared your simple +food with a poor little animal-guest. Now +for the first wish: Would you live always on +princely fare? If you so choose you may have +more than you need to eat. You may have meats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> +and fruit, fine wheaten bread and choice sweets, +such as are set upon palace tables. You may +have everything that a dainty palate could +desire, and every day a different feast of goodies. +This you may choose, if you so will. Or, +if you think the second choice a better one, +you may become young again as I am now, +for I am a picture of your lost youth which +you have forgotten. You may have health +and strength, and appetite to enjoy life, and +the hearty meals which you will be able to +earn. That is a goodly gift, is it not?”</p> + +<p>The old woman nodded, but still her eyes +were unsatisfied.</p> + +<p>“Then there is the third choice,” said the +Fairy, and her voice was very soft. “But +that one it seems selfish for me to name, because +it is a wish for my happiness.”</p> + +<p>“What is the third wish?” asked the old +woman eagerly.</p> + +<p>“You may wish, if you choose—and the +wish will be granted by the Fairy Queen—that +all may remain as it now is; you will be +what you are, a dear old woman living still in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> +this little hut, with your little well in which +there will ever be one dipperful of water, no +more; with your little bucket in which there +will ever be one handful of rice, no more; +with your little teapot in which there will ever +be one drop of tea, no more. It is scanty fare +for one, Mother; yet withal, if you would have +one to share it, I will do so still, as I have +done so long. I will become your child—no +longer a Fairy-child, but your little human +girl-child, such as I seem now. I will live +with you always, love you and take care of +you always and share your scanty portion.”</p> + +<p>The old woman gave a cry of joy. “But +do <i>you</i> wish it?” she said. “Would you not +rather go back to your beautiful Fairyland, +where you can be happy and care-free always?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, dear Mother,” said the Fairy; “if +the choice were mine I would rather remain +here with you than anywhere in the whole +wide world, for I have been very happy here +and I have learned many things. I do not +want to go back to Fairyland to be an idle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> +careless, selfish Fairy. I would rather be a +human child and share my mother’s joys and +sorrows. Dear Mother, will you have it so?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will have it so!” cried the old +woman joyfully.</p> + +<p>“Think,” said the Fairy, lifting a warning +finger, “think of the fine feasts and the +dainties you might have. Think of the youth +and strength. Would you give up all this for +only me—who must share half the refreshment +from your well, your bucket, and your +teapot?”</p> + +<p>“That is enough,” said the old woman. +“What do we need more? We can still +offer a sup to any poor stranger who may +come as you came to my door. Oh, dear +child, if you will stay with me, that is all I +ask!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, let us sit down and have +breakfast,” said the dear little girl, tossing +her green cap into the fire. “Now I am a +Fairy no longer, but your very own little +girl-child. And here is a dipper of water—the +only one left in the well. Here is a dish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> +of rice—I used the last handful from the +bucket. Here is just a tiny drop of tea in the +teapot. Oh, Mother, I am so glad!”</p> + +<p>So they sat down to their frugal meal, and +they laughed, and they laughed, and they +laughed, they were so happy.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHILD OR FAIRY</h2> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">’Tis good to be a Fairy-thing,</div> +<div class="verse">And flit about on gauzy wing;</div> +<div class="verse">To sleep in cradles made of flowers,</div> +<div class="verse">Or play through all the joyous hours.</div> +<div class="verse">For Fairies have no grief nor care,</div> +<div class="verse">Happy they are, and always fair,—</div> +<div class="indent4">I suppose.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">And yet ’tis better far to be</div> +<div class="verse">A little human child like me,</div> +<div class="verse">With lessons hard and tasks to do,</div> +<div class="verse">And sometimes little troubles, too.</div> +<div class="verse">For I have Mother’s tender kiss,</div> +<div class="verse">And nothing is so good as this,—</div> +<div class="indent4">Every one knows!</div> +</div></div></div> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> + +<p class="ph3">KARL AND THE DRYAD</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i067.jpg" alt="Karl with his bag of acorns"></div> + + +<h2 class="nobreak">KARL AND THE DRYAD</h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once a lad named Karl who +lived with his father and mother in a little +village of the Flat Land. Karl was a big +fellow, tall and yellow-haired. But all his +strength was in his long, lean body. There +was none in his poor head. Karl was the village +simpleton.</p> + +<p>Poor Karl! His life was a sorry one. He +was despised and jeered at by the whole village. +The children followed and tormented +him at every chance, because he could not +learn at school; the grown folk were little +kinder, but nudged one another and made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> +jokes about him when he came to the market-place. +Even the cur-dogs followed and +barked at him, but they knew no better. They +were cruel folk, those dwellers in the Flat +Land.</p> + +<p>Karl’s own parents were the unkindest of +all. They did not love their son nor pity his +wretchedness, but were ashamed because he +was so simple. They were angry, too, because +in their poverty he could not help them earn +a living. For there seemed little indeed that +poor Karl could learn to do,—he was so very +simple. His parents were continually telling +him how useless he was in this workaday world.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you stupid fellow!” they would sometimes +say, driving him out of the house with +blows of broom or stick. “Oh, you great +good-for-nothing, sitting here and eating our +bread without doing aught to pay for it! +Were ever parents troubled with so worthless a +son? Other folk have bright boys and girls +who will grow up to do some good in the +world and be a credit to their parents. But +you will always be a big, overgrown baby for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> +us to take care of. Bah! Karl, we are tired of +seeing you about!”</p> + +<p>With the tears streaming down his face +poor Karl would shuffle out of the mean little +cottage where they lived, the most unhappy +boy in the whole wide world. There was one +place whither Karl loved to go at such times, +the only place where he was sure of finding +rest and quiet and a friend. In a corner of +the village was a little wood,—a rare sight in +the Flat Land, where trees grew but sparsely.</p> + +<p>Few other persons came here, for the folk +of the country cared little about rest or quiet, +and nothing at all for the beauty of nature. +They were quite satisfied with the look of +their clean-shaven country, their smooth lawns +and geometrical canals, their straight, shadeless +roads, curbed neatly on either hand. It +had never occurred to them to plant trees for +beauty and shade, and for the other good +things which trees offer. The little wood had +grown quite by accident, and no one cared +anything about it. But Karl loved the lonely, +pretty place, and especially the great oak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> +which grew in the midst thereof, the only +oak in the whole Flat Land. It was so big, +so sturdy, and yet withal so gentle when it +stretched its great limbs protectingly over his +wretchedness, giving the comfort of its shade +and coolness to refresh him in his troubles. +It was Karl’s only friend.</p> + +<p>A hot, sultry day came upon the Flat Land, +and it seemed to be Karl’s evil day. In the +morning a rout of children and dogs chased +him through the village, pelting him with bad +eggs and fruit, and with stones, too. They +chased him until the school bell rang, when +he escaped; for Karl did not go to school,—he +was too simple. When he returned home, +breathless, bruised, and weary, scarcely able to +speak from fright and exhaustion, his father +beat him because he could not tell where he +had been all the morning. Poor Karl! There +was no part of the whole town where he had +not been in that dreadful chase. But he had +not the words to explain this to his parents; +so his cruel father punished him, and his +mother drove him out without his dinner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>More wretched than ever before, Karl fled +to his refuge, the little wood, and flung himself +on the greensward beneath the giant oak +tree. He buried his face in the cool, soft moss, +and cried as though his heart would break.</p> + +<p>“Poor fool! Poor fool!” he wailed. “Poor +Karl, good for nothing!”</p> + +<p>While he lay thus, sobbing aloud and filling +the cups of the moss with his tears, he heard +a heavy tread approaching. Glancing up fearfully,—for +he had no hope to meet a friendly +face, since none in all the world had ever +smiled upon him,—he saw a Farmer approaching +with a great axe over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, there!” cried the Farmer when he +spied Karl under the tree. “You Simpleton, +better get up. I am going to cut down that +tree which grows over your head.”</p> + +<p>“Cut down my tree!” gasped Karl, and he +began to tremble. Was he to lose his only +friend?</p> + +<p>“<i>Your</i> tree!” jeered the Farmer. “Poor +Fool, I never knew that you owned anything, +even your senses. The tree is mine, with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> +land on which it grows and acres on every +hand. I am going to cut down the tree to +make firewood for next winter. That is all +trees are good for.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do not do that!” begged Karl, spreading +out his arms as if to protect the tree. “I +will not let you cut it down!”</p> + +<p>“Ho ho!” laughed the Farmer. “How will +you prevent it, Simpleton? And what is the +tree to you, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“The only big tree there is anywhere!” +sobbed Karl. “The only shade; the only safe, +quiet, cool, kind place in the whole world! O +Man, do not cut down the tree! You cannot +make another.”</p> + +<p>The Farmer had lifted his axe to strike, but +now he paused and rested it on the ground. +Karl’s last words had struck him with a new +thought. “The Fool speaks a word of wisdom,” +he growled to himself. “It is easier to +cut down a tree like this than to make another. +The acorn which I might plant to-day would +become no such tree in my lifetime—nor in +that of my son, or my grandson, or my great-grandson, +for that matter. Fool, I will think +it over (the more fool I, ’tis likely). I will +spare <i>your</i> tree—ha ha!—for a time. I can +cut it down whenever I like. But as you say, +I cannot soon grow another. My folly bids +yours good-day, Fool.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73-74]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i072"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i072.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">KARL AND THE DRYAD</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>Shouldering his axe, the Farmer trudged +half sulkily away. Then Karl fell to sobbing +again, but this time with joy that his tree was +spared. He flung his arm around the great +trunk and pressed his lips against the rough +bark, kissing it again and again. Suddenly +he heard a sharp crack in the oak; another +and another, as if the bark were being ripped +away. He started up in a fright and stood +back from the tree, wondering what was happening +to his old friend.</p> + +<p>Presently a long vertical slit appeared in +the side of the tree and grew gradually wider +and wider. A door was opening in the trunk! +Karl stood gazing spell-bound at this amazing +sight, when out from the dark entrance +stepped a figure most wonderful to see. It +was a lovely maiden, dressed all in brown,—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> +color of the tree-bark. About her head +was twined a wreath of green oak leaves and +acorns, and in her hand she carried a wand, +made from a branch of the tree. She was +a Dryad, the spirit whose home was the old +oak tree; but Karl was too simple to know +that. He merely stood staring at the beautiful +stranger, too much surprised even to +close his poor foolish mouth, which hung wide +open.</p> + +<p>The Dryad smiled sweetly at the lad and +said, “Thanks, kind friend, for saving my tree. +I heard your wise words to the cruel Farmer, +and brave you were to speak them. Now what +can I do to make you happy, as we Dryads +love to make happy him who does kindness +to our sheltering trees?”</p> + +<p>Poor Karl did not understand how he had +saved the tree. He only knew that for some +reason the cruel Farmer had changed his mind. +As little did he understand why the Dryad +thanked him. But he heard the kindness of +her voice, and knew she offered aid.</p> + +<p>“Oh, can you help me, beautiful Stranger?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> +he cried, clasping his hands eagerly and looking +at her with tears in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I will help you all I can, kind +lad,” said the Dryad, waving her wand and +taking a step towards him. “Tell me about +your trouble.”</p> + +<p>Then Karl told the Dryad all the sorrow of +his life,—how he was foolish and of no use, +a burden to his parents and a disgrace to the +town; how all the village, even the little children +and the cur-dogs, hated and despised +him; how unhappy and lonesome he was.</p> + +<p>“O fair Stranger,” said Karl as he finished +the sad little tale, “I am only a poor simpleton, +and I can never do anything good or great. +But if you could only teach me how to do +some little thing that will be of use to the +world, so that I shall not always be hated and +despised even by the little children and dogs +of the village, I should be so very happy! +Will you do this, dear Tree-Maiden?”</p> + +<p>The Dryad looked at him pityingly, and the +tears stood in her own brown eyes when she +heard his wish. “Poor boy,” she said, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> +her voice was very sweet, “you ask nothing +for yourself, neither riches nor happiness nor +even wisdom. You ask only to be taught how +your simplicity may be of some use to the +world which has treated you so unkindly. +Some would call it a foolish wish. But I say, +O Karl, that it is not foolishness. Twice to-day +you have spoken wisely, lad.”</p> + +<p>The Dryad looked up into the tree under +which they stood; she looked down upon the +ground; then she glanced around and about, +thinking hard for Karl’s sake. And at last +she spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Remember the words which you spoke to-day +when the Farmer raised his axe. You told +him that he could not make another such tree; +and those words saved this great oak. You +were right, Karl. And he was right when he +agreed that the acorn which he might plant +to-day would not become like this king of +trees in his lifetime, nor in that of his son, or +his grandson, or his great-grandson. Yet the +acorn which you plant will grow, and its shade, +its beauty, its greenness will one day equal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> +this. Though you may never see it, the world +will be better for your deed, and future generations +will bless you for it. This shall be +your task, Karl, to fare forth upon a lifelong +pilgrimage and plant as you go the blessed +trees which will shelter the many people who +are to come after you. Thus the Flat Land +will become famous for all time as the place +of happy wayfaring.”</p> + +<p>Now poor Karl understood not one word of +all this which the Dryad had so prettily spoken, +save that he was to go away. But this thought +he seized eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I am to go away!” he cried. “When, +dear Maiden, and where?”</p> + +<p>“You must go to-night,” answered the +Dryad, waving her wand. “See, already the +shadows are falling. You must not be missed +nor sought for this night. You must take with +you only this,—a sack of acorns upon your +shoulders. See where they lie all about us +under the tree, ready for you to gather! And +look! I will take this green mantle which I +wear and make of it a sack to hold your burden.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> +Take it, Karl, and fill it thus with the +gift of your old friend, the oak.”</p> + +<p>Karl did as she showed him, and presently +he had the long, soft sack filled with brown +acorns. Then the Dryad gave him a lesson in +planting. She showed him how to dig a little +hole for each acorn and cover it with mould; +and though Karl was so simple he learned the +lesson readily, for he had a loving teacher. +Then the Dryad told him how he must walk a +hundred paces from the planting of one acorn +before he turned earth to cover the next.</p> + +<p>“Now, Karl, you shall go forth,” she said, +“from village to village wherever your thought +may lead,—for it does not matter,—planting +acorns on either side of the way. And if +any one asks you why you do this, do you tell +him the story of this day; and I warrant you +will need no other pence to pay for food or a +bed whenever you need them. Do not forget +this story, Karl. Do not forget.”</p> + +<p>“I am a simpleton,” said Karl humbly, +“yet I shall never forget this day’s happenings, +nor your words to me. But shall I indeed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> +be doing something for the world’s good? +I do not see how that can be.”</p> + +<p>“Trust me, Karl,” said the Dryad kindly. +“Indeed and indeed, you will be doing much, +I promise you,—more than many men who +call themselves wise. But see, already the +night is falling. It is time that you were starting +upon your journey.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon she helped him to place the stout +sack of acorns upon his shoulders, and with a +wave of the wand started him forth upon his +pilgrimage. Smiling with joy to think that at +last he was about to be of some use in the +world, Karl bent his long frame under the +heavy burden, and trudged out of the little +wood. When he reached the highroad, he +turned to wave a last farewell to the Dryad. +But already she had retreated into her tree-cell, +closing the door behind her so tightly +that one would never know where it opened. +It was to his friend the great oak, alone, that +Karl bade his last good-by.</p> + +<p>Thus Karl began his pilgrimage with the +green sack of acorns on his back, and with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> +neither penny nor crust in his pocket. He began +his pilgrimage at dusk, when every one +was indoors at the evening meal; so no one +thought of him, or spied his doings. With +great glee the simple fellow planted his first +acorn in the heart of the village, just within +sight of the parent oak. So long as light +lasted he trudged on with a happier heart than +he had ever known. He was being of some +use to the world! He did not understand +how, but he believed the gentle Dryad’s promise. +At every hundred paces he planted an +acorn, and he was so busy counting his steps +between whiles that he forgot all his troubles. +And this, too, the wise Dryad had foreseen.</p> + +<p>At last, when the way had grown so dim +that Karl could barely see to dig earth for the +last planting, a wayfarer accosted him.</p> + +<p>“What ho, Stranger! What are you doing +there?” cried this man.</p> + +<p>“I am planting an acorn,” said Karl simply.</p> + +<p>“Ho ho! what an idea!” cried the fellow +with a guffaw. “You’ll never live to enjoy +the oak that grows from that acorn. Why do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> +you take so much trouble for nothing, my +funny fellow?”</p> + +<p>Then Karl told him the whole story, as +the Dryad had bade him do. And when he +paused at the end, the man was silent for a +little time.</p> + +<p>“Poor fellow!” he said at last. “Simple, +simple! What a story made of fool’s fancies! +An oak tree—a maiden coming out of it—acorns +to be planted along the road for shade +and rest! Yet—there is something in that +last thought. It might not be a bad thing to +have trees along our highways, though I never +before heard of such a thing. Whew! I know +I should have been glad to-day for the shade +of a tree when I ate my luncheon in the burning +sun.—Have you supped? Where do you +lodge to-night, lad?”</p> + +<p>Karl dropped his foolish mouth and said +blankly that he did not know. In truth, he +had never thought of the matter until that +minute. But the stranger clapped him on the +shoulder and said,—</p> + +<p>“Come home with me and I will give you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> +a bed and a sup. Your wonderful story deserves +so much reward.”</p> + +<p>So Karl fared well that night, and on the +morrow once more started happily forth upon +his mission. Thus indeed he fared wherever +he went. At first folk laughed at the story +which he told. But when they came to think +it over, they found it not so ridiculous. Looking +at the poor fool’s eager face and watching +his tireless labor for the good of people +whom he would never see, their hearts smote +them for their own selfishness, and they were +ashamed. They treated him well. Karl never +lacked for a meal or a bed; the telling of his +story always earned either. Yet he never expected +this reward, but was continually wondering +why folk were so good to him. He +thanked them humbly for their charity, and +when he was refreshed, went forth again upon +his pilgrimage with no care for the morrow or +for the next meal. Karl was indeed a simpleton.</p> + +<p>The days and the weeks and the years went +by, and Karl still wandered, planting the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> +acorns as he went. He never retraced his +steps, but went on and on, down new roads, +new avenues, new boulevards, into new countries. +He never was curious to see how his +work was faring. He was too simple to think +of that. He had been told what he must do +in order to be useful in the world; that was +enough. The Power that watches over little +acorns and great oaks, over simpletons and +wise men, would take care of the work which +Karl had begun.</p> + +<p>Mile after mile he traversed, country after +country he visited; the years passed over his +head, silvering his hair and bending still more +his tall frame. As Karl grew older the burden +on his shoulders became lighter to carry; but +very gradually. The sack made from the +Dryad’s mantle must have had magic woven +in its tissue. For that first stock of acorns +from the old oak tree lasted throughout the +entire pilgrimage, during the whole of Karl’s +life, so that he had no need to return to the +unfriendly village for a fresh supply. On and +on he went, and behind him for miles and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> +miles through the countries and the years +stretched rows of little oak saplings, of various +heights and sizes, and full of promise,—the +beginning of a wonderful arched avenue. For +after he had passed out of sight, the people of +every village, remembering his strange words +and his wild story, began to think of him as +a holy man, and to look upon the acorns +which he had planted as holy things. So the +sprouts were cherished carefully and more +carefully as the years went by.</p> + +<p>Now at last, after many years, Karl was +grown old and feeble, and the acorns were few +in the bottom of the Dryad’s green sack; and +he knew that his pilgrimage was almost over. +He was many, many miles from home, and +for the first time he thought of returning, +longing for the Tree, his friend. He was now +bowed and white-haired. A snowy beard descended +to his waist; his garments were in rags +and his shoes were mere strips of leather bound +around his bare feet. But he was very happy, +for he knew his work was done.</p> + +<p>In a little village of the far South country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> +he planted the last acorn, and sank upon the +spot, unable to go any farther. The towns-folk +gathered around him, saying, “Who is +this? What holy man is this?” For his face +was indeed that of a blessed saint. Then once +more, for the last time, he told his story. He +told it in a faint and faltering voice, and it +was so sad, so sweet, that every one wept to +hear it, and marveled greatly, saying,—</p> + +<p>“Surely, he is indeed a holy man! See, +the green wonder-sack is empty. This is the +end of his pilgrimage. Our village is blest and +shall be famous as the end of his pilgrimage. +We will set up a shrine in his honor where +the last acorn is planted. But first we must +take him home.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, take me home!” said Karl, who +understood only this word of all the praise +they gave him.</p> + +<p>They laid him on the green mantle and +started gently to carry him where he would +be. He could not tell them the name of the +place, but they traced the way by the acorns +which he had planted and which had sprung<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> +up in his honor. As they went from village +to village, folk came out who remembered the +holy pilgrim who had passed erewhile, telling +his quaint story; and they claimed a share in +bearing the blessed burden. So that poor Karl +had a continually growing company of people +ministering to his wants and doing him the +kindnesses of love. But he did not know why, +thinking only that the world was grown wondrously +kind since the days of his boyhood. +As they passed on, the wonder grew at the +length of his pilgrimage and the extent of +Karl’s work. For the journey was not a +matter of days but of months, even at the +steady pace they held. And as they measured +back mile after mile, the planting of Karl became +still more wonderful to see. From little +sprouts the acorns had now grown tiny treelets. +Further on the saplings were waist-high, +shoulder high, above the heads of the tallest. +In lands where he had passed years before grew +rows of tall, beautiful oaks on either side of +the road. But it was when the goodly company +entered at last the Flat Land itself that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> +they saw the trees become so sturdy and so +broad that already it was a fair avenue down +which Karl was borne. It was many, many +years since he had passed that way. He himself +was forgotten, but there remained the +tradition of a simple lad who had once gone +by, planting the blessed oaks which were now +the pride of the land. And his own countrymen +joined the company in greater numbers +than any heretofore. For now the wisdom +of the planting began to be seen. The trees +were so tall and so broad-limbed that already +they cast a grateful shade, under which the +pilgrims rested at every stage. Men, women, +and children, even the animals whom they +passed, taking shelter from the summer heat +under these same trees, blessed the wisdom +which had done this thing. But Karl knew +nothing of all this. He only knew that he +was going home; and he slept, being very +weary.</p> + +<p>At last they came to the village where Karl +was born; but he did not know it for such, he +was so simple. Nor did the people who flocked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> +to praise him remember Karl, he was so +changed. They only knew him for the unnamed +benefactor and friend who had made +their town the fairest and most famous in the +whole land. Among them were the very children, +now grown old like him, who had teased +and tormented him that woeful day. But now +they crowded around the green litter as it was +borne along, seeking to kiss the hand of the +wise man who had given them shade and shelter +on their weary way to and from the market. +The company of pilgrims bore Karl past and +under the trees which had sprung up to mark +his passing from the town. They came to the +last tree, the first which Karl had planted in +the heart of the village on that first day, and +here they paused, troubled. For they said,—</p> + +<p>“The avenue ends here. Whither shall we +now carry the holy man, and what would he +have us do? For he has spoken no word since +we began the journey.”</p> + +<p>But under this last tree Karl opened his +eyes, and raising himself on his litter stretched +out his arms to the East. Gazing whither he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> +pointed, the company saw a little wood, and +rising out of it a single giant oak, greater +than all the others which Karl had planted,—greater +than any which those men had seen.</p> + +<p>“There, there!” cried Karl, with joy in his +voice. “Take me there! Home, home!”</p> + +<p>Wondering, they bore him to the great oak +and laid him on the greensward beneath the +tree. Then a marvelous thing happened. In +the sight of all the people a little door opened +in the side of the oak, and out stepped a maiden +dressed all in brown, with a girdle of green +and with a crown of oak leaves on her head. +She bore a branch of the tree in her hand, +which she waved gently as she stepped towards +Karl.</p> + +<p>“Welcome home!” she cried sweetly, smiling +upon him. “Welcome home, dear friend. +You have had your task and it is ended. Your +wish is fulfilled. You have been of great use +to the world, and it will bless your name more +and more as the years go by. Come, now, and +rest.” Tenderly she took him by the hand, +aiding him to rise. He lifted himself, feebly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> +at first, but seeming to gain strength from her +touch. The Dryad wrapped her green mantle +around his shoulders, leading him towards the +oak. And lo! When they reached the little +door, he turned and smiled at the company, +waving his hand in a last farewell, but speaking +no word. And they looked at him amazed, +such a change seemed to have passed over him; +but they could not say how, save that the +weight of years, the weariness, the sorrow, the +yearning, seemed to have slipped away. He +smiled at them, and it was not the smile of a +simpleton, but of one who knew the meaning +of strange things. Then the Dryad drew him +gently after her and they passed in through +the little door, into the heart of the great oak +tree. Noiselessly it closed behind them, leaving +not a crack to show where it had been. +And this was the last ever seen of Karl and +the Dryad.</p> + +<p>But the people were left staring at one +another, as folk do when they have seen something +that they cannot understand.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak">TREES</h2> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">However little I may be,</div> +<div class="verse">At least I too can plant a tree.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">And some day it will grow so high</div> +<div class="verse">That it can whisper to the sky,</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">And spread its leafy branches wide</div> +<div class="verse">To make a shade on every side.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">Then on a sultry summer day,</div> +<div class="verse">The people resting there will say,—</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="first">“Oh, good and wise and great was he</div> +<div class="verse">Who thought to plant this blessed tree!”</div> +</div></div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> + +<p class="ph3">THE INDIAN FAIRY</p> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i098.jpg" alt="Rob peering down the well"></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">THE INDIAN FAIRY</h2> +</div> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Katie</span> has been complaining again of the +queer noises in the cellar,” said Rob’s mother, +as she passed the coffee cup to her husband +across the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>“It must be rats,” said Rob’s papa. “We +will get a trap.”</p> + +<p>“It is very strange,” said Mamma again, +“the girls declare that the noises seem to come +from the old well. That is what all our servants +have said for years. You know some of +them have been so frightened that they gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> +us notice, because of the noises in the well. +They think it is bewitched.”</p> + +<p>“What is ‘bewitched,’ Mamma?” asked +Rob.</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh!” said Rob’s papa. “It is only +rats, I know, and the noises do not come from +the well, but from the wall. There must be a +rat’s nest in the wall close by the well. I have +heard about those noises ever since I was a +little boy. Sometimes I used to think that +I heard them myself, and I fancied all sorts +of queer things. But of course it was nothing +but rats.”</p> + +<p>Rob had been listening with round eyes, +and now he cried eagerly, “O Papa! I did +not know that there was a well under the +house. How did it come there, and what is it +for?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, there is an old well,” said his papa. +“It has been down there longer than I can remember, +for it is even older than the house,—older +than the city, too, I daresay. It was an +Indian spring, and my great-grandfather built +the house over it, so as to have fresh water<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> +always conveniently at hand. It is covered now +with a trapdoor, so that no one can fall in by +mistake. That is why you never saw it, Rob.”</p> + +<p>“An old Indian spring!” cried Rob excitedly, +“and we drink that very same water +every day! How splendid!” He sipped some +water from his glass and smacked his lips.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” said his papa laughing. “This +is ordinary spring water bought at the store. +Our old well has not been used for years and +years. Since the city has been built up so +closely around our house, which was one of the +first ones here on the Hill, we have not dared +to use the well water, because it might not be +clean. I daresay the well is quite dry by this +time. I have not looked into it for years.”</p> + +<p>“O Papa! I want to look down into the +well!” cried Rob.</p> + +<p>“Well, you shall do so some time,” said his +papa as they rose from the table. “But I am +in a hurry now. Good-by, Mamma. Good-by, +Rob. I will buy a trap on my way down town +to-day, and we will put an end to the noises +in the cellar which trouble Katie.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>Now of course Rob was very anxious to see +that well, for he loved everything that had to +do with Indians. He thought that he could not +wait for his father to show it to him. He ran +into the kitchen and began to bother Katie.</p> + +<p>“Katie, Katie,” he begged. “Please come +into the cellar and show me the old well. I +want to look down into it.”</p> + +<p>“The Saints preserve us!” cried Katie, lifting +up her hands in horror. “What for do +ye want to be lookin’ into the well? No, me +b’y! It’s I that will be kapin’ away from that +same, and thank ye kindly. ’Tis bewitched it +is, what with the funny little noises a-comin’ +out of it day and night.”</p> + +<p>“What funny little noises, Katie?” asked +Rob. “Papa says it is rats. He is going to +buy a trap to catch them.”</p> + +<p>“Rats! A trap!” sniffed Katie scornfully. +“’Tis no rats at all do be makin’ them quare +little noises. ’Tis bewitched, I tell ye. ’Tis +stark bewitched, that well. And I wouldn’t +go near it at all for the promise of a new +bonnet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>“What does ‘bewitched’ mean, Katie?” +asked Rob again.</p> + +<p>Katie wagged her head and mysteriously +made the sign of the cross.</p> + +<p>“Oh, who will be tellin’ ye that? If it was +in the owld country I’d say it was Fairies or +maybe the Leprechaun himself. But I never +heard tell o’ Fairies in this land, at all. Maybe +’tis something worse. But oh! The funny +little noises!”</p> + +<p>“<i>What</i> noises, Katie?” begged Rob.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the little whinin’ and sobbin’, like one +wantin’ to get out. ’Tis no rats live in the +owld well. Would <i>rats</i> be whimperin’ and +beggin’ like?”</p> + +<p>“Begging, Katie!” cried Rob. “Oh, what +do they say? Please, please tell me quickly.”</p> + +<p>“La, no! Master Rob,” said Katie, looking +sidewise at the little boy, “your Mamma +wouldn’t want me to be frightenin’ ye with +tales the likes o’ these.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not frightened, Katie,” said Rob +eagerly. “I’m just <i>interested</i>.”</p> + +<p>“H’m,” said Katie doubtfully, glancing at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> +the clock. “Whisht! Master Rob! ’Tis a +quarter to nine, and time for you to be startin’ +for school, or you’ll be late.”</p> + +<p>And indeed, Rob had to run all the way, +and reached school barely in time.</p> + +<p>Rob’s papa did not forget to bring home a +rat-trap that night, and after dinner he said,—</p> + +<p>“Now, Rob, I am going down cellar to set +the trap, and if you want to come with me I +will show you the old well.”</p> + +<p>Of course Rob wanted to go. So Rob’s +papa took a lighted candle in one hand, and +the rat-trap nicely baited with cheese in the +other, and they descended the steep cellar +stairs together. It was very dark in the cellar, +and the candle made queer flares on the walls +and ceiling, and lighted up corners which Rob +had never before seen. In the very darkest +and dimmest corner of all, away in the back +cellar, Rob’s papa paused, and then Rob saw +that in the floor there was a trapdoor with an +iron ring, quite like the Arabian Nights!</p> + +<p>“It is from somewhere hereabout that +Katie says she hears the noises,” said Papa.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> +“We will set the trap on the floor, close beside +the wall, and I warrant we shall catch a big +rat before many nights are over.” So he set +the trap with the spring ready to catch the first +greedy rat who should try to steal the cheese.</p> + +<p>“Now let us look into the well,” said Rob’s +papa. “I haven’t lifted this cover for years. +Ugh! It is heavy enough!” He tugged at +the iron ring and presently the cover flew back. +Down below yawned a great black hole, very +deep and seemingly quite empty.</p> + +<p>“Here, Rob, take hold of my hand,” said +his papa, “and you can look down.” Rob +held tightly to his father’s hand, and bending +over, peered into the well. The candle which +his father held flickered and flamed and shot +a shaft of light down into the strange hole.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see anything,” said Rob, disappointed. +“I don’t think there is any water +there. But—but I think I hear something! +A queer little noise like water trickling, or +somebody whispering very softly.”</p> + +<p>“The spring may be bubbling yet,” said +his father. “Katie, O Katie!” he called upstairs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> +“Please bring me a tin pail and a ball +of stout twine. We will see whether the Indian +spring has run dry or not.”</p> + +<p>“The Saints preserve us!” Rob heard +Katie cry in the kitchen above, as she went +about to do as she was bid. And again Rob +thought he heard a murmuring in the well.</p> + +<p>“There is the queer noise again, Papa!” +he cried. “It sounds like some one talking a +long way off.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh!” said Papa. (He was always +saying, “Pooh, pooh” at Rob’s queer +notions.) “Run and get the pail and the +cord, Sonny. Katie is afraid to come near +the well. Ah! Now we shall soon know.”</p> + +<p>He tied the cord to the handle of the pail, +while Rob held the candle and they watched +the pail descend. Down, down it went, until it +disappeared into the blackness. “Well, well!” +said his father. “Ten, twenty, I must have +paid out thirty feet of cord already. I had forgotten +that the well was so deep. Hello! There +was a splash; hear it, Rob?”</p> + +<p>Rob heard,—a quick splash, and again the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> +queer little noise, a tinkle, a trickle, a rustle, +a whisper.</p> + +<p>“O Papa,” he cried, “let me draw up the +pail, please.”</p> + +<p>“Well, be very careful, Son,” said his father. +And Rob began to pull on the cord, while +his father held tightly to his jacket so that he +should not fall down into the deep, black hole. +The pail was rather heavy. It bumped against +the sides of the well, tinkling and jingling as +it came up. Rob thought that it jerked and +wobbled strangely. But perhaps his hand was +not quite steady, he was so excited. At last +the pail came in sight, full of water. They +drew it over the edge, Rob stooping eagerly +to see. Filled to the brim it was, and running +over.</p> + +<p>“Clear water, as cold as ice,” said Rob’s +Papa, dipping in his finger. “Let us take it +upstairs and see it in a better light. I would +not have believed that the old spring was still +bubbling.”</p> + +<p>Very carefully Rob carried the pail of water +up the cellar stairs. “Katie, O Katie!” he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> +called. “See the water from the old well! +From thirty feet down in the darkness it +came.”</p> + +<p>“The Saints preserve us!” cried Katie. +(She was always saying that.) “I wouldn’t +touch water from the witch-well for any money +ye could offer.”</p> + +<p>“It is clear and bright as glass,” said Rob’s +papa.</p> + +<p>“O Papa! Let me drink some,” cried Rob. +“I should so love to taste water from a real +Indian spring.”</p> + +<p>“O Mr. Evans! Don’t let the b’y taste +it!” begged Katie, clasping her hands. “It +will kill him, the p’isen water!”</p> + +<p>“No, Rob,” said Mr. Evans, “I think +Katie is right. It might be dangerous to drink +the water. But it looks delicious. What a +pity that we cannot use spring water from +our own ancestral well, instead of buying it +at the store as every one else must!”</p> + +<p>“Please, Papa—just one little sip?” +begged Rob.</p> + +<p>“No, not one little sip, Son. Here, Katie,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> +empty the pail of water into the sink,” said +Mr. Evans firmly.</p> + +<p>Tremblingly Katie took the pail and went +with it to the sink. But she had not turned +half the water away when she gave a scream.</p> + +<p>“Ow! The whimperin’ and cryin’! Hark +till it!” she shrieked. And indeed, it seemed +to Rob that the water sobbed and moaned as +it ran down the sink spout. Suddenly he had +an idea.</p> + +<p>“It is too bad to let the beautiful fresh +Indian spring water run into the horrid old +sewer,” he said. “Please, Papa, come with me +and let me pour it back into the well.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh!” laughed Mr. Evans. “What +an idea! You are as silly as Katie, Rob. I +don’t want you to get strange ideas into your +head. But—well, come along, since you are +so anxious that the famous water should not +be wasted. I want to cover up the well tightly, +so that no one can fall in.”</p> + +<p>Downstairs they went once more, Rob carrying +the pail half full of water, which he poured +back into the well. With a glad <i>splash</i> it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> +joined the hidden spring far, far below, and +again Rob felt sure that he caught the sound +of a whispering voice, tinkling, trickling, sighing, +sobbing, as if it were trying to say something +to him, perhaps to thank him. He bent +over the well, listening eagerly. But his father +pulled him back by the hand.</p> + +<p>“Come, Rob,” he said. “I want to put the +cover in place, and then we must go upstairs. +It is time that you were in bed.”</p> + +<p>So they let down the cover with a <i>bang!</i> +and Rob went away with his father out of +the dark cellar and into the gaslight. But the +sound of those queer little noises followed +after him, upstairs and upstairs, and even after +he was in bed.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The queer little sounds followed Rob upstairs, +and even after he was in bed he could +hear them echoing from far below in the cellar. +At first they were only little trickly +sounds, like water <i>seekling</i> afar off. But by +and by, when the house was very still, because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> +everybody except Rob had fallen sound asleep, +the noises grew louder and plainer. They grew +into a soft murmur, sometimes a sob, sometimes +the whisper of a little silver voice. And +at the same time there was a gentle knocking. +Rob listened and listened as hard as ever he +could, and he said to himself,—</p> + +<p>“Surely, Katie is right. There is something +strange about the cellar, and I think it comes +from the old well. What can it be?”</p> + +<p>Finally the voice sounded so loud and so +plain that Rob could hear distinctly what it +was saying, and it seemed to be talking to him.</p> + +<p>“Let me out; ah, let me out!” cried the +silvery, trickly voice, and again Rob heard +the knocking. “Good little boy, you who +would not let the water of the Indian spring +be wasted, come and free me from my prison +of so many years.”</p> + +<p>A prisoner! Some one was shut up in the +old well! Rob sat up in bed. He must set +the prisoner free. He was not a bit frightened +at the thought of going down all alone into +the cellar, for he knew that there was nothing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> +more to be afraid of in the dark than in the +daylight. He got up and thrust his feet into +a pair of slippers and put on his bath robe. +Then very softly, so as not to waken anybody +in the house, he crept downstairs: down to +the floor where his father and mother slept,—he +could hear them breathing as he passed the +door; down past the library where the books +lived and all night long told silent stories to +one another in the moonlight; down to the +empty dining-room, and through to the kitchen. +Here Rob found a candle on a shelf and lighted +it. Then, taking this in one hand and holding +up his trailing bath robe with the other, he +stole down the cellar stairs. The voice was calling +now louder than ever, and with it sounded +the knocking, which certainly came from the +old well.</p> + +<p>“Let me out, O kind boy!” sobbed the silvery, +tinkling voice. “Let me out. Oh! I +thought I was free to-day, but alas! Here I +remain yet a prisoner, for how many more long +years? O kind little boy, the first one to do +me a good turn, let me out, let me out!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>Rob hastened to the corner in which was +the old well. And as he drew near, the voice +became plainer and plainer, and the knockings +louder and louder. He set the candle down on +the floor beside the rat-trap which his father +had baited that afternoon, and his heart beat +fast as he bent over the cover of the well and +seized the iron ring in both hands. Should he +be able to lift it?</p> + +<p>One—two—three! Rob strained hard, +but the cover would not budge. One—two—three, +again! It was so heavy for a little +boy to lift. One—two—three! Once more! +Rob felt the cover move a tiny bit. The +noises down in the well had ceased suddenly. +It was very still. Rob could hear his heart +thumping like the screw of a steamboat. +Now, for one last time! One—two—<i>three</i>! +The cover came up suddenly, so suddenly that +Rob nearly went over backward. There below +yawned the great black hole of the well.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Rob, drawing a long breath.</p> + +<p>“<i>Oh!</i>” Was it an echo, or a soft little +voice, far, far below?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>Rob took up the candle and peered down +into the well. But he could see nothing. “Is +any one down there?” he asked. At first there +was no answer, and then there came a tinkly, +trickly sound like water bubbling, which +turned at last into a whispered “<i>Yes!</i>” There +certainly was some one in the old well!</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” said Rob, tingling all +over with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Oh, little friend, kind boy,” said the voice, +“I am the Fairy of the Indian spring, shut +up here for years and years, unable to get out. +I have called and called, but you are the first +who has come to aid me.”</p> + +<p>“What can I do to help you?” asked Rob +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Let down the bucket as you did this afternoon,” +said the voice. “Let down the bucket +and draw me up.”</p> + +<p>The pail with the ball of twine lay close beside +the well, where Rob’s papa had forgotten +it that afternoon. Rob set the candle down on +the floor and began to lower the pail into the +well. Yard after yard after yard the hungry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> +throat swallowed the cord. Finally he heard +the pail splash as it reached the water. He +waited a moment. The pail bobbed about and +then grew heavy on the cord. Then the silver +voice cried, “Draw up, draw up, kind boy!”</p> + +<p>Rob pulled on the cord eagerly,—pulled +and pulled without looking down into the +well, until the pail tinkled against the bricks +of the cellar floor. In the flare of the candle-light +Rob saw that it was full of water. But +that was not all! Standing with feet braced +across the top of the pail, clinging to the +cord, was the strangest little figure about +six inches high; a little figure dressed all +in brown, with black hair and bright eyes. +When the pail rested on the cellar floor he +leaped off and stood before Rob, bowing, +with one hand laid upon his head.</p> + +<p>And then Rob saw that it was a tiny Indian. +His brown dress was soft like deerskin, and +his leggings were fringed. His limp black hair +fell over a face of red-bronze, with high cheek-bones +and pouting lips. In his hair he wore +a tiny blue feather, perhaps from a blue jay’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> +wing, and in his hands he carried the sweetest +little toy bow, while a quiver of inch-long +arrows hung on his shoulders. His feet were +covered with moccasins, and he was the exact +copy of a Wild West Indian; only he looked +like one seen through the wrong end of an +opera-glass.</p> + +<p>“Oh—you must be an Indian Fairy,” +cried Rob, with his eyes bulging.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Friend,” said the tiny one. “I am +an Indian Fairy, the Fairy of the Indian spring. +And you have brought me up for the second +time this day, though you did not see me the +first time. This is the second time during fifty +years that I have left the well. Ah, must I +go back again?” Despite the warlike appearance +of the little man his silvery voice began +to tremble.</p> + +<p>“Tell me all about it,” said Rob soothingly.</p> + +<p>“I am the Fairy who lived by the spring +years, and years, and years ago, before the +White Men came to Shawmut,” said the Fairy.</p> + +<p>“What is Shawmut?” asked Rob, wondering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>“Shawmut is the Indian name of this place,” +said the Fairy. “It means the Place of Springs, +and it was so named because of the many +bubbling springs on the hillside above the +river. Oh! there were many, many of us. I +had dozens of brothers. But my spring was in +the fairest spot. This water was the sweetest +and clearest of any. Heigho! How often the +great braves used to kneel here for a refreshing +draught when they returned from the hunt +or from war! They never saw me, for I hid in +the moss about the spring. But I loved to look +at them, they were so big and wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what did they look like?” asked Rob +eagerly, for Rob loved to hear about Indians.</p> + +<p>“They dressed as I do,” said the Fairy. +“But sometimes their faces were painted +green or red or blue. And I could see no +good in that. Sometimes they wore tassels of +hair at their belts. Ugh! I did not like that +fashion. Sometimes their hands were red, +and when they went away the waters of my +spring were stained. Ugh! Neither did I like +that. But they were brave and strong and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> +noble. I loved the Red Men, for they lived +out of doors in the sweet sunlight, as I did. +They loved the fresh air and the blue sky and +the green grass. They would have no stifling +roof over their heads to shut out the sky; no +four walls to keep off the fresh air. Ugh! I +cannot breathe in a house. I stifle! I choke!”</p> + +<p>“Then how did you come to be shut up in +this house?” asked Rob, wondering very much.</p> + +<p>“Listen. The White Men came to Shawmut; +White Men with cows and dogs, women +and children. They built houses on the Hill, +near the bubbling springs, and planted corn. +They drove away the Red Men, and I loved +them not, for they were different. They wore +ugly dark garments, hats and short cropped +hair. They lived in close wigwams, and cared +nothing for fresh air and blue sky. Neither +did they love the trees, but cut them down to +burn, and mowed the flowers for their ugly +ploughed fields. The woods and the streams +meant nothing to them but places wherein +they might hunt and fish, which they did +gloomily. For they were solemn folk and sad.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> +They thought it wicked to laugh merrily, as +the brook laughs, or to smile like the flowers. +Even the little children dared not be too gay, +but were afraid of their fathers!”</p> + +<p>“That must have been a horrid time for +children,” said Rob.</p> + +<p>“Alas! It was indeed a sad time for everybody,” +went on the Fairy. “The brave Red +Men were gone. Even the rabbits and squirrels +were gone. The Hill was peopled with +solemn and ugly folk, who dared not be +happy, and it was no longer beautiful as before. +Yet I could not go away and leave my +spring, my dear spring, which ran sweet and +clear as ever. It was the favorite fountain of +the Puritans, and crouching down under the +moss and ferns I watched them come and go, +gloomily, filling their buckets and pitchers. +But I loved them not, and I hoped that the +Red Men would come back and drive them +away. But the Red Men never came again.”</p> + +<p>“And what happened next?” asked Rob, +much interested.</p> + +<p>“Years went by, and the Hill became<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> +crowded with the White Men’s ugly wigwams. +The springs still bubbled, but it was a sad +song that they sang, for everything was +changed. But that was not the worst. Came +a day when a man built a house over my very +spring! He shut in the bubbling water under +a roof, between four ugly walls, where the +blue sky could no longer shine upon it nor +the fresh air visit it freely! Alas! Would +that I had escaped before then. I might have +gone earlier, though it would have been sorrowful +to desert my lonely spring. But I had +not guessed what was about to happen until +it was too late. I had not thought that even a +White Man could be so cruel as to wall up a +living spring. I was asleep under the moss +and ferns when they raised the roof over me. +Alas! I did not even waken at the sound of +their wicked hammers. But when I opened +my eyes it was too late. There was a screen +between me and the sky!”</p> + +<p>“Why did you not run away?” asked Rob +sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you do not understand,” answered the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> +Fairy with a sad little smile. “I might have +escaped at any time before the roof covered +me. But as soon as there was a roof above my +head, and four walls rose around me, I was +under the magic spell of the White Men. I +could not go away, even though the doors and +windows were yet yawning holes. I must remain, +even as the well must remain, until some +one should take pity on me and set me free.”</p> + +<p>“And could you find no one to do that in +all those years?” cried Rob.</p> + +<p>“Alas! No. The people who lived in the +house were dull folk who did not believe in +Fairies. For many years and many years I +have remained shut up in the darkness of this +cellar, pining in the deserted well. It is quite +useless and forgotten. Long ago the ferns and +mosses died, and I have no green thing left +to love, nothing beautiful to see.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Fairy!” said Rob, and the tears +stood in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I have cried, I have called, I have knocked +on the walls of the well,” said the Fairy, +“but no one has seemed to hear my voice.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> +Or if folk heard they have not understood. +Years ago some one who stepped as you step, +whose voice sounded like yours—I never saw +his face—used to come sometimes and listen +at the well, and I heard him wish and wonder. +But that was all.”</p> + +<p>“It must have been my father!” exclaimed +Rob, remembering what had been said at the +breakfast table.</p> + +<p>“But he could not understand what I tried +to tell him,” went on the Fairy. “He wondered +and walked about, but he always went +away without doing anything. It was as if I +spoke a foreign language. But you see I do +not. You understand me quite well, is it not +so?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” cried Rob. “And yet it is very +strange. It is not language such as others +speak. It is like trickling water that makes +words.”</p> + +<p>The Fairy laughed. “It is not language at +all,” he said. “But you know it. There were +women, too; women with loud voices and a +curious twist to their tongues. They heard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> +my voice, some of them seemed even to understand +what I cried. For I heard them exclaim +and wonder and talk of the Fairy Folk. The +first time that this happened I was hopeful. +Surely, I said to myself, they know the Fairies. +They say that they come from a Green Land +where many Fairies live. Surely, surely they +will love the Little Men of another country. +They will understand why I long for green +grass and blue sky and fresh air. They will +help me to escape. But no! They were cowards. +They screamed and fainted when I spoke +from the old well. They must have had wicked +hearts, for they feared the Fairies. They dared +not come near, but complained to the master +and mistress, and would not live in the same +house with me.”</p> + +<p>“Silly things!” said Rob. “Katie was one +of them.”</p> + +<p>“So to please them the well was covered,” +sighed the Fairy, “and then it was worse than +ever. Think how dark, how lonely, how ugly +a home it was for an Indian Fairy who loved +the free, open life of outdoors! Oh, for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> +green woods, the sunshine and blue sky! The +song of birds and the odor of flowers! Oh, to +feel the soft green moss, and taste the dew +fresh in the morning! Please let me out, kind +boy, that I may know those joys again!”</p> + +<p>“Dear Fairy,” said Rob hesitatingly, “I +am so sorry, but to find all these things, save +the sky and air, one must now seek far from +here. The White Men have driven them away, +just as they drove the Indians, the squirrels, +and the rabbits. There is no green grass, there +are no flowers, no moss, no ferns on all the +Hill.”</p> + +<p>“What do you tell me!” cried the Fairy. +“My Hill is no longer beautiful?”</p> + +<p>“It is beautiful,” said Rob. “At least, the +White Men call it so. But the wigwams are +thick and very tall, shutting out the sunlight +from the paths between. And these paths are +dusty, hard streets, with neither grass nor trees +nor flowers.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, why do White Men try so hard to +make the world ugly?” wailed the poor Indian +Fairy. “How can they live away from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> +the woods and the flowers and the beautiful, +beautiful green grass! Where shall I go? +What shall I do?”</p> + +<p>Rob thought and wondered, and thought +again. And at last he had an idea. “There +is a green country not so very far from here,” +he said. “One goes there in an electric car,—but +you don’t know what a car is. Never mind. +I went there yesterday and brought away some +beautiful ferns, growing in the mossy earth.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that I might see them!” cried the +Fairy eagerly. “One sniff of leafy mould, one +breath of the woods lingering about the tufted +moss! To lie once more in the shadow of a +fern and feel its freshness on my face! Where +is this woodsy wonder?”</p> + +<p>“It is upstairs in my bedroom,” answered +Rob. “Will you come with me?”</p> + +<p>The Fairy hesitated, looked at the pail of +water resting beside the well, and brightened +with a sudden thought.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” he cried. “I know what may be +done. You can set me free, kind boy, you +only, of all the folk who have come to the Indian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> +spring since the Red Men left it. The +spell which binds me to the spring and chains +me beneath the roof can only be broken when +the water is set free again to mother earth. +Yesterday I came near to being emptied into +the horrible sewer. You heard my cry as the +first of the water was lost. You saved me. +For had the pail been emptied then I must +have followed. And to what a fate!”</p> + +<p>“It empties at last into the ocean,” said +Rob.</p> + +<p>“And that would have been the end of me,” +shivered the Fairy. “Salt water is the one +thing which would destroy me utterly. But +come now. I know how I may be freed. Take +the pail of water and bring me with it to the +blessed clump of ferns.”</p> + +<p>Rob agreed; he took up the candle in one +hand and the pail of water in the other. +Lightly as a bird the Fairy sprang upon the +rim of the pail, clinging to the cord. And so +they went together up out of the cellar, through +the empty kitchen and dining-room; very +softly up the stairs, past the library of silent-talking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> +books; up and up, very, <i>very</i> creepily +past the bedroom door ajar, whence Rob heard +the sound of his father and mother snoring +peacefully; up and up and up, tiptoeing so +as not to wake Katie, to Rob’s own chamber. +And there on the window-seat stood a big +flower-pot with the beautiful ferns which the +day before Rob had dug up in the woods. +The Fairy smelled them as soon as he entered +the room.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he cried, laying both little hands on +his breast, “How good that is! Dear boy, +empty the water quickly from the pail into the +earth brought from the woods, and I shall be +free to lie under my dear ferns once more.”</p> + +<p>Rob emptied the pail into the flower-pot. +And as the last drop of water trickled from +the bucket, with a glad cry that sounded like +the tiniest of Indian war-whoops, the Fairy +leaped into the moist little dell which the +ferns made, and curled up against one of the +stalks, hugging it lovingly.</p> + +<p>“Dear fern!” he cried. “Dear woodsy +fern! How sweet you smell. Dear moss, how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> +soft you are! Dear fragrant earth, made of +dead leaves and all the ripe finished things of +the forest! Oh, I am myself once more. Dear +boy, you have made me very happy.”</p> + +<p>“And you will live here with me in my +chamber, always and always, dear Fairy?” +begged Rob eagerly. “That will be so good! +I shall be happy indeed to have you for my +little neighbor. And I will never, never tell +any one about you, nor let them disturb your +green home.”</p> + +<p>The Fairy looked at Rob and sighed. +“Little friend,” he said, “I love you dearly. +I would gladly make you happy. But I have +yet one more thing to ask of you. Think of +it! Even now I am shut under a White Man’s +roof,—I, an Indian Fairy! So many years +in a foreign wigwam, walled in a dark, skyless +well! Oh! Let me go back to the green +wood. Let me be free once more like the +rabbits and the squirrels. Will you set me +free, even though it means that you will never +see me again?”</p> + +<p>Rob looked at the Fairy and his lip trembled.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> +“I hoped”—he began. But he took +a long breath and said to himself, “I will not +be selfish. I will be kind and do as I would +be done by.” Then he spoke aloud. “Tell me +how I may set you free, dear Fairy, and I will +do it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my kind friend!” cried the Fairy, “I +knew you would be generous! This, then, +you shall do for me. I will sleep to-night in +your chamber, and to-morrow, when the sun +is high, you shall take up the ferns out of the +flower-pot, these ferns all moist with the water +of the Indian spring. You shall take them up, +and me with them,—though you will not see +me after daylight,—and carry them to the +woods whence you took them. And when you +set them back in the ground of the forest +where they grew, then I shall be free, free, +free! Oh, dear boy, will you do this for me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will do this for you,” said Rob +gravely.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, thanks!” cried the Fairy. “And +now, the night is almost done. I think I +feel the daylight coming. You will see me no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> +more. But I shall be sleeping soundly under +the fern. And do you likewise go to rest in +your little bed. Look! You are shivering with +cold! But to-morrow do not forget your +promise.”</p> + +<p>“I will not forget,” said Rob, feeling indeed +very cold and shivery. He crept away to +his little bed, and was soon sound asleep, warm +and comfy.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>It was late when Rob woke the next morning. +At first he thought that the adventure +with the Indian Fairy must have been a dream. +But as soon as he sat up in bed he saw the tin +pail on the floor beside the window-seat, and +the fern moist and green in the flower-pot. +So he knew that it must all have been true. +But he could not see the Fairy himself, though +he knew that the little fellow must be snugly +curled up under the green fronds of the fern.</p> + +<p>When he came down to the breakfast table +his father and mother were talking earnestly +about something.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“It is a wonder he wasn’t killed!” said his +Mamma, shuddering. “Why did you ever +show him that dreadful well?”</p> + +<p>“I shall have the cover screwed down,” +said Mr. Evans. “It really isn’t safe. Hello, +Son! You walked in your sleep again last +night, did you know it? I suppose you don’t +remember. But Mamma found one of your +slippers outside the library door this morning, +and Katie found the other on the cellar stairs. +And Rob! <i>The cover of the old well was +open!</i> However did you lift it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember how I lifted it,” said +Rob, quite truthfully, and he looked dazed.</p> + +<p>“Well, we can’t have this, you know,” said +his father. “I shall have to lock your door +every night. But we will have that old well +screwed up hereafter. Perhaps that will satisfy +Katie, though I think she will not be troubled +with any more noises in the wall. She says +that there was a big, big rat dead in the trap +this morning.”</p> + +<p>And indeed, nobody ever heard any more +noises in the cellar after Rob helped the Indian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> +Fairy to escape. That very morning, right +after breakfast,—for it was a Saturday and +there was no school,—he dug up the ferns +which he had planted in his flower-pot, and put +them in a little basket with the earth around +their roots. Then he started to take the electric +car which would carry him out of town to +the woods.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going, Rob?” asked his +Mamma, seeing him with cap in hand.</p> + +<p>“I am going to take my ferns back to the +woods,” Rob answered. “I think it is cruel +to keep things that love the sunshine and the +fresh air shut up in a house. I am sure that +the ferns would much rather be back in the +woods, don’t you think so, Mamma?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am sure I never thought of that!” +said his Mamma. “But you may go if you +will be back in time for dinner.”</p> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131-132]</span> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe28_125" id="i131"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i131.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="caption">ROB AND THE INDIAN FAIRY</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>So Rob took the ferns to the woods and set +them back in their first home under a big +gray rock, the prettiest little spot in the world +for a Fairy to dwell! But he saw nothing +more of the Indian Fairy, though he looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> +and looked; and after he had started for home, +went back there again three separate times to +look, because he hated to part from his little +new friend. But the last time he heard, or +thought he heard, a very tiny, far-off, trickly +voice say,—</p> + +<p>“Farewell, my friend! Farewell! I am free, +free, free! And you shall always be happy +when you come to the woods, even if you +never see me. For I will make this charm +about you, because you were kind. Farewell, +farewell!”</p> + +<p>And this was the last that Rob ever heard +of the Indian Fairy, though he went often +and often to that same place in the woods; but +the Fairy charm did indeed prove true, and +Rob was always very, very happy as soon as +he came into the woods, happier than he was +anywhere else.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">FAIRIES</h2> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">If I should see a Fairy,</div> +<div class="indent">I should not be afraid,</div> +<div class="verse">I know so much about them,</div> +<div class="indent">From all that I have read.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">I’ve planned how I would greet them,</div> +<div class="indent">And what I ought to say;</div> +<div class="verse">I’d have my Wish all ready,</div> +<div class="indent">To save the least delay.</div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="verse">I sometimes feel them near me,</div> +<div class="indent">But still I cannot see.</div> +<div class="verse">I wonder, oh! I wonder,</div> +<div class="indent">Are they afraid of me?</div> +</div></div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"><span class="antiqua">The Riverside Press</span><br> +<i>Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.<br> +Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="ph4">THE FLOWER PRINCESS</p> + +<p class="ph5">By ABBIE FARWELL BROWN</p> +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“Here is a return to the gracefully romantic fairy +stories we all used to love. Four tales of adventure +in the country where the unreal touches upon the +real, prettily illustrated and written with the literary +skill that always appeals to the good taste of a child.”</p> + +<p class="right"><i>The Outlook, New York.</i></p> + +<p>“Delicate fancy and humor have gone into the making +of these pretty tales for children, which prove +again Miss Brown’s title to be numbered among the +story-tellers mothers may depend upon.”</p> + +<p class="right"><i>The Christian Register, Boston.</i></p> + +<hr class="tb"> +<p class="center">Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.</p> +<hr class="tb"> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdc">HOUGHTON<br>MIFFLIN<br>& COMPANY</td> + +<td><img src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></td> + +<td class="tdc">BOSTON<br> +AND<br> +NEW YORK</td></tr> +</table> +</div></div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="ph6">By ABBIE FARWELL BROWN</p> +<hr class="tb"> + +<p class="ph3">IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown relates some of the bravest tales from +the brave old sagas of the Northland. They have an +enchantment which appeals particularly to the youthful +mind.”</p> + +<p class="right"><i>New York Globe.</i></p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated by E. Boyd Smith.<br> +12mo, $1.10, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.21.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> +<p class="ph3">THE BOOK OF SAINTS<br> +AND FRIENDLY BEASTS</p> + +<p>“There is a very tender, sympathetic charm about +the book. Miss Brown has chosen a score of stories +concerning saints and animals to tell again simply +and with a pretty choice of word and phrase.”</p> + +<p class="right"><i>London Times.</i></p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated by F. Y. Cory.<br> +12mo, $1.25.</p> +<hr class="tb"> +<table> +<tr><td class="tdc">HOUGHTON<br>MIFFLIN<br>& COMPANY</td> + +<td><img src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></td> + +<td class="tdc">BOSTON<br> +AND<br> +NEW YORK</td></tr> +</table> +</div></div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75499 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75499-h/images/cover.jpg b/75499-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d62d27 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/75499-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..995ecfe --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/coversmall.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i004.jpg b/75499-h/images/i004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd0f3d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i004.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i025.jpg b/75499-h/images/i025.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..57e19cf --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i025.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i031.jpg b/75499-h/images/i031.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9071e9c --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i031.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i043.jpg b/75499-h/images/i043.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e30350 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i043.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i055.jpg b/75499-h/images/i055.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bdc2265 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i055.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i067.jpg b/75499-h/images/i067.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21adcdd --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i067.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i072.jpg b/75499-h/images/i072.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..32f15a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i072.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i098.jpg b/75499-h/images/i098.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee239e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i098.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i131.jpg b/75499-h/images/i131.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a75e021 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i131.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i_frontis.jpg b/75499-h/images/i_frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c635c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i_frontis.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i_logo.jpg b/75499-h/images/i_logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..15785b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i_logo.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i_title.jpg b/75499-h/images/i_title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4470321 --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i_title.jpg diff --git a/75499-h/images/i_title_logo.jpg b/75499-h/images/i_title_logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..58c931d --- /dev/null +++ b/75499-h/images/i_title_logo.jpg |
