the tales of mother goose as first collected by charles perrault in 1696 _a new translation by charles welsh_ with an introduction by m.v. o'shea professor of education at the university of wisconsin illustrated by d.j. munro after drawings by gustave doré d.c. heath & co., publishers boston new york chicago [illustration: "she met with gaffer wolf." p. 80.] [transcriber's note: in the story "riquet of the tuft," the following symbols are used to represent special characters: [=e] = the letter "e" with superior macron [=a] = the letter "a" with superior macron] contents page introduction by professor m.v. o'shea vii list of illustrations ix cinderella, or the little glass slipper 1 the sleeping beauty in the wood 13 little thumb 29 the master cat, or puss in boots 45 riquet of the tuft 54 blue beard 66 the fairy 75 little red riding-hood 80 note 85 list of illustrations "she met with gaffer wolf" _frontispiece_ page "it went on very easily" 11 "let me see if i can do it" 15 "slipped in under his father's seat" 30 "the marquis of carabas is drowning!" 48 "i am exact in keeping my word" 63 "if you open it, there's nothing you may not expect from my anger" 67 "with all my heart, goody" 75 "he fell upon the good woman" 81 introduction what virtues do these stories possess that have kept them alive for so long a time? they have to some degree stimulated and nourished qualities of supreme worth in individual and social life. with the young the struggle against greed and falsehood and pride and cowardice is a very real one, and situations in which these homely, fundamental traits are involved are full of interest and seriousness. again, to mature people the reward of well-doing and the punishment of evil conduct portrayed in these stories are apt to seem too realistic, too much also on the cut-and-dried pattern; but it is far different with children. they have a very concrete sense of right and wrong, and they demand a clear, explicit, tangible outcome for every sort of action. they must have concrete, living examples, with the appropriate outcome of each, set before them. a modest, faithful child will be strengthened in his good qualities; while one lacking these will have them aroused, to some extent at any rate, by following cinderella in her career. arrogance and selfishness come to unhappy straits in this fancy world, and they are likely to fare the same in the real world; so it would be better to part company with them, and take up with gentleness and kindliness and faithfulness instead. and every one may be of some help to others if he be only of the right mind. the brother who thought himself faring badly with only a cat for a legacy learns betimes that even so small and apparently helpless a creature may be of much service when he is rightly disposed. a person might think little thumb could accomplish nothing of value to any one, but he again teaches the child that all depends on the willingness to be of assistance, the good-heartedness, the fellow-feeling which one has for others. in making this version anew the translator has endeavored to retain the characteristics of the style of the early chap-book versions, while evading the pompous, stilted language and johnsonian phraseology so fashionable when they were first translated. m.v. o'shea. university of wisconsin. the tales of mother goose. cinderella, or the little glass slipper. once upon a time there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that ever was seen. she had two daughters of her own, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all things. the gentleman had also a young daughter, of rare goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world. the wedding was scarcely over, when the stepmother's bad temper began to show itself. she could not bear the goodness of this young girl, because it made her own daughters appear the more odious. the stepmother gave her the meanest work in the house to do; she had to scour the dishes, tables, etc., and to scrub the floors and clean out the bedrooms. the poor girl had to sleep in the garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms with inlaid floors, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and where they had looking-glasses so large that they might see themselves at their full length. the poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not complain to her father, who would have scolded her if she had done so, for his wife governed him entirely. when she had done her work, she used to go into the chimney corner, and sit down among the cinders, hence she was called cinderwench. the younger sister of the two, who was not so rude and uncivil as the elder, called her cinderella. however, cinderella, in spite of her mean apparel, was a hundred times more handsome than her sisters, though they were always richly dressed. it happened that the king's son gave a ball, and invited to it all persons of fashion. our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very grand figure among the people of the country-side. they were highly delighted with the invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing the gowns, petticoats, and head-dresses which might best become them. this made cinderella's lot still harder, for it was she who ironed her sisters' linen and plaited their ruffles. they talked all day long of nothing but how they should be dressed. "for my part," said the elder, "i will wear my red velvet suit with french trimmings." "and i," said the younger, "shall wear my usual skirt; but then, to make amends for that i will put on my gold-flowered mantle, and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world." they sent for the best hairdressers they could get to make up their hair in fashionable style, and bought patches for their cheeks. cinderella was consulted in all these matters, for she had good taste. she advised them always for the best, and even offered her services to dress their hair, which they were very willing she should do. as she was doing this, they said to her:-"cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?" "young ladies," she said, "you only jeer at me; it is not for such as i am to go there." "you are right," they replied; "people would laugh to see a cinderwench at a ball." any one but cinderella would have dressed their hair awry, but she was good-natured, and arranged it perfectly well. they were almost two days without eating, so much were they transported with joy. they broke above a dozen laces in trying to lace themselves tight, that they might have a fine, slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glass. at last the happy day came; they went to court, and cinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them, she fell a-crying. her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter. "i wish i could--i wish i could--" but she could not finish for sobbing. her godmother, who was a fairy, said to her, "you wish you could go to the ball; is it not so?" "alas, yes," said cinderella, sighing. "well," said her godmother, "be but a good girl, and i will see that you go." then she took her into her chamber, and said to her, "run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin." cinderella went at once to gather the finest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could help her to go to the ball. her godmother scooped out all the inside of it, leaving nothing but the rind. then she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly turned into a fine gilded coach. she then went to look into the mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive. she ordered cinderella to lift the trap-door, when, giving each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, it was that moment turned into a fine horse, and the six mice made a fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored, dapple gray. being at a loss for a coachman, cinderella said, "i will go and see if there is not a rat in the rat-trap--we may make a coachman of him." "you are right," replied her godmother; "go and look." cinderella brought the rat-trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. the fairy chose the one which had the largest beard, and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat coachman with the finest mustache and whiskers ever seen. after that, she said to her:-"go into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering-pot; bring them to me." she had no sooner done so than her godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries all trimmed with gold and silver, and they held on as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. the fairy then said to cinderella, "well, you see here a carriage fit to go to the ball in; are you not pleased with it?" "oh, yes!" she cried; "but must i go as i am in these rags?" her godmother simply touched her with her wand, and, at the same moment, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all decked with jewels. this done, she gave her a pair of the prettiest glass slippers in the whole world. being thus attired, she got into the carriage, her godmother commanding her, above all things, not to stay till after midnight, and telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and her clothes would become just as they were before. she promised her godmother she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight. she drove away, scarce able to contain herself for joy. the king's son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, was come, ran out to receive her. he gave her his hand as she alighted from the coach, and led her into the hall where the company were assembled. there was at once a profound silence; every one left off dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attracted was every one by the singular beauties of the unknown newcomer. nothing was then heard but a confused sound of voices saying:-"ha! how beautiful she is! ha! how beautiful she is!" the king himself, old as he was, could not keep his eyes off her, and he told the queen under his breath that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature. all the ladies were busy studying her clothes and head-dress, so that they might have theirs made next day after the same pattern, provided they could meet with such fine materials and able hands to make them. the king's son conducted her to the seat of honor, and afterwards took her out to dance with him. she danced so very gracefully that they all admired her more and more. a fine collation was served, but the young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he occupied with her. she went and sat down beside her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities, and giving them among other things part of the oranges and citrons with which the prince had regaled her. this very much surprised them, for they had not been presented to her. cinderella heard the clock strike a quarter to twelve. she at once made her adieus to the company and hastened away as fast as she could. as soon as she got home, she ran to find her godmother, and, after having thanked her, she said she much wished she might go to the ball the next day, because the king's son had asked her to do so. as she was eagerly telling her godmother all that happened at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door; cinderella opened it. "how long you have stayed!" said she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself as if she had been just awakened. she had not, however, had any desire to sleep since they went from home. "if you had been at the ball," said one of her sisters, "you would not have been tired with it. there came thither the finest princess, the most beautiful ever was seen with mortal eyes. she showed us a thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons." cinderella did not show any pleasure at this. indeed, she asked them the name of the princess; but they told her they did not know it, and that the king's son was very much concerned, and would give all the world to know who she was. at this cinderella, smiling, replied:-"was she then so very beautiful? how fortunate you have been! could i not see her? ah! dear miss charlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of clothes which you wear every day." "ay, to be sure!" cried miss charlotte; "lend my clothes to such a dirty cinderwench as thou art! i should be out of my mind to do so." cinderella, indeed, expected such an answer and was very glad of the refusal; for she would have been sadly troubled if her sister had lent her what she jestingly asked for. the next day the two sisters went to the ball, and so did cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. the king's son was always by her side, and his pretty speeches to her never ceased. these by no means annoyed the young lady. indeed, she quite forgot her godmother's orders to her, so that she heard the clock begin to strike twelve when she thought it could not be more than eleven. she then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. the prince followed, but could not overtake her. she left behind one of her glass slippers, which the prince took up most carefully. she got home, but quite out of breath, without her carriage, and in her old clothes, having nothing left her of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to the one she had dropped. the guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not seen a princess go out, and they replied they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly dressed, and who had more the air of a poor country girl than of a young lady. when the two sisters returned from the ball, cinderella asked them if they had had a pleasant time, and if the fine lady had been there. they told her, yes; but that she hurried away the moment it struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the king's son had taken up. they said, further, that he had done nothing but look at her all the time, and that most certainly he was very much in love with the beautiful owner of the glass slipper. what they said was true; for a few days after the king's son caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry her whose foot this slipper would fit exactly. they began to try it on the princesses, then on the duchesses, and then on all the ladies of the court; but in vain. it was brought to the two sisters, who did all they possibly could to thrust a foot into the slipper, but they could not succeed. cinderella, who saw this, and knew her slipper, said to them, laughing:-"let me see if it will not fit me." her sisters burst out a-laughing, and began to banter her. the gentleman who was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at cinderella, and, finding her very handsome, said it was but just that she should try, and that he had orders to let every lady try it on. he obliged cinderella to sit down, and, putting the slipper to her little foot, he found it went on very easily, and fitted her as if it had been made of wax. the astonishment of her two sisters was great, but it was still greater when cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper and put it on her foot. thereupon, in came her godmother, who, having touched cinderella's clothes with her wand, made them more magnificent than those she had worn before. [illustration: "it went on very easily." p. 10.] and now her two sisters found her to be that beautiful lady they had seen at the ball. they threw themselves at her feet to beg pardon for all their ill treatment of her. cinderella took them up, and, as she embraced them, said that she forgave them with all her heart, and begged them to love her always. she was conducted to the young prince, dressed as she was. he thought her more charming than ever, and, a few days after, married her. cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, gave her two sisters a home in the palace, and that very same day married them to two great lords of the court. the sleeping beauty in the woods. once upon a time there was a king and a queen, who were very sorry that they had no children,--so sorry that it cannot be told. at last, however, the queen had a daughter. there was a very fine christening; and the princess had for her godmothers all the fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (there were seven of them), so that every one of them might confer a gift upon her, as was the custom of fairies in those days. by this means the princess had all the perfections imaginable. after the christening was over, the company returned to the king's palace, where was prepared a great feast for the fairies. there was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, and a knife and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. but as they were all sitting down at table they saw a very old fairy come into the hall. she had not been invited, because for more than fifty years she had not been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or enchanted. the king ordered her a cover, but he could not give her a case of gold as the others had, because seven only had been made for the seven fairies. the old fairy fancied she was slighted, and muttered threats between her teeth. one of the young fairies who sat near heard her, and, judging that she might give the little princess some unlucky gift, hid herself behind the curtains as soon as they left the table. she hoped that she might speak last and undo as much as she could the evil which the old fairy might do. in the meanwhile all the fairies began to give their gifts to the princess. the youngest gave her for her gift that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the wit of an angel; the third, that she should be able to do everything she did gracefully; the fourth, that she should dance perfectly; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play all kinds of musical instruments to the fullest perfection. the old fairy's turn coming next, her head shaking more with spite than with age, she said that the princess should pierce her hand with a spindle and die of the wound. this terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and everybody fell a-crying. at this very instant the young fairy came from behind the curtains and said these words in a loud voice:-"assure yourselves, o king and queen, that your daughter shall not die of this disaster. it is true, i have no power to undo entirely what my elder has done. the princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle; but, instead of dying, she shall only fall into a deep sleep, which shall last a hundred years, at the end of which a king's son shall come and awake her." the king, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old fairy, issued orders forbidding any one, on pain of death, to spin with a distaff and spindle, or to have a spindle in his house. about fifteen or sixteen years after, the king and queen being absent at one of their country villas, the young princess was one day running up and down the palace; she went from room to room, and at last she came into a little garret on the top of the tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her spindle. this good woman had never heard of the king's orders against spindles. "what are you doing there, my good woman?" said the princess. "i am spinning, my pretty child," said the old woman, who did not know who the princess was. "ha!" said the princess, "this is very pretty; how do you do it? give it to me. let me see if i can do it." she had no sooner taken it into her hand than, either because she was too quick and heedless, or because the decree of the fairy had so ordained, it ran into her hand, and she fell down in a swoon. the good old woman, not knowing what to do, cried out for help. people came in from every quarter; they threw water upon the face of the princess, unlaced her, struck her on the palms of her hands, and rubbed her temples with cologne water; but nothing would bring her to herself. then the king, who came up at hearing the noise, remembered what the fairies had foretold. he knew very well that this must come to pass, since the fairies had foretold it, and he caused the princess to be carried into the finest room in his palace, and to be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver. one would have taken her for a little angel, she was so beautiful; for her swooning had not dimmed the brightness of her complexion: her cheeks were carnation, and her lips coral. it is true her eyes were shut, but she was heard to breathe softly, which satisfied those about her that she was not dead. [illustration: "let me see if i can do it." p. 15.] the king gave orders that they should let her sleep quietly till the time came for her to awake. the good fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of matakin, twelve thousand leagues off, when this accident befell the princess; but she was instantly informed of it by a little dwarf, who had seven-leagued boots, that is, boots with which he could stride over seven leagues of ground at once. the fairy started off at once, and arrived, about an hour later, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons. the king handed her out of the chariot, and she approved everything he had done; but as she had very great foresight, she thought that when the princess should awake she might not know what to do with herself, if she was all alone in this old palace. this was what she did: she touched with her wand everything in the palace (except the king and queen),--governesses, maids of honor, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, undercooks, kitchen maids, guards with their porters, pages, and footmen; she likewise touched all the horses which were in the stables, the cart horses, the hunters and the saddle horses, the grooms, the great dogs in the outward court, and little mopsey, too, the princess's spaniel, which was lying on the bed. as soon as she touched them they all fell asleep, not to awake again until their mistress did, that they might be ready to wait upon her when she wanted them. the very spits at the fire, as full as they could hold of partridges and pheasants, fell asleep, and the fire itself as well. all this was done in a moment. fairies are not long in doing their work. and now the king and queen, having kissed their dear child without waking her, went out of the palace and sent forth orders that nobody should come near it. these orders were not necessary; for in a quarter of an hour's time there grew up all round about the park such a vast number of trees, great and small, bushes and brambles, twining one within another, that neither man nor beast could pass through; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers of the palace; and that, too, only from afar off. every one knew that this also was the work of the fairy in order that while the princess slept she should have nothing to fear from curious people. after a hundred years the son of the king then reigning, who was of another family from that of the sleeping princess, was a-hunting on that side of the country, and he asked what those towers were which he saw in the middle of a great thick wood. every one answered according as they had heard. some said that it was an old haunted castle, others that all the witches of the country held their midnight revels there, but the common opinion was that it was an ogre's dwelling, and that he carried to it all the little children he could catch, so as to eat them up at his leisure, without any one being able to follow him, for he alone had the power to make his way through the wood. the prince did not know what to believe, and presently a very aged countryman spake to him thus:-"may it please your royal highness, more than fifty years since i heard from my father that there was then in this castle the most beautiful princess that was ever seen; that she must sleep there a hundred years, and that she should be waked by a king's son, for whom she was reserved." the young prince on hearing this was all on fire. he thought, without weighing the matter, that he could put an end to this rare adventure; and, pushed on by love and the desire of glory, resolved at once to look into it. as soon as he began to get near to the wood, all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles gave way of themselves to let him pass through. he walked up to the castle which he saw at the end of a large avenue; and you can imagine he was a good deal surprised when he saw none of his people following him, because the trees closed again as soon as he had passed through them. however, he did not cease from continuing his way; a young prince in search of glory is ever valiant. he came into a spacious outer court, and what he saw was enough to freeze him with horror. a frightful silence reigned over all; the image of death was everywhere, and there was nothing to be seen but what seemed to be the outstretched bodies of dead men and animals. he, however, very well knew, by the ruby faces and pimpled noses of the porters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, wherein still remained some drops of wine, showed plainly that they had fallen asleep while drinking their wine. he then crossed a court paved with marble, went up the stairs, and came into the guard chamber, where guards were standing in their ranks, with their muskets upon their shoulders, and snoring with all their might. he went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, some standing and others sitting, but all were asleep. he came into a gilded chamber, where he saw upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the most beautiful sight ever beheld--a princess who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose bright and resplendent beauty had something divine in it. he approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down upon his knees before her. then, as the end of the enchantment was come, the princess awoke, and looking on him with eyes more tender than could have been expected at first sight, said:-"is it you, my prince? you have waited a long while." the prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to show his joy and gratitude; he assured her that he loved her better than he did himself. their discourse was not very connected, but they were the better pleased, for where there is much love there is little eloquence. he was more at a loss than she, and we need not wonder at it; she had had time to think of what to say to him; for it is evident (though history says nothing of it) that the good fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her very pleasant dreams. in short, they talked together for four hours, and then they said not half they had to say. in the meanwhile all the palace had woke up with the princess; every one thought upon his own business, and as they were not in love, they were ready to die of hunger. the lady of honor, being as sharp set as the other folks, grew very impatient, and told the princess aloud that the meal was served. the prince helped the princess to rise. she was entirely and very magnificently dressed; but his royal highness took care not to tell her that she was dressed like his great-grandmother, and had a high collar. she looked not a bit the less charming and beautiful for all that. they went into the great mirrored hall, where they supped, and were served by the officers of the princess's household. the violins and hautboys played old tunes, but they were excellent, though they had not been played for a hundred years; and after supper, without losing any time, the lord almoner married them in the chapel of the castle. they had but very little sleep--the princess scarcely needed any; and the prince left her next morning to return into the city, where his father was greatly troubled about him. the prince told him that he lost his way in the forest as he was hunting, and that he had slept in the cottage of a charcoal-burner, who gave him cheese and brown bread. the king, his father, who was a good man, believed him; but his mother could not be persuaded that it was true; and seeing that he went almost every day a-hunting, and that he always had some excuse ready for so doing, though he had been out three or four nights together, she began to suspect that he was married; for he lived thus with the princess above two whole years, during which they had two children, the elder, a daughter, was named dawn, and the younger, a son, they called day, because he was a great deal handsomer than his sister. the queen spoke several times to her son, to learn after what manner he was passing his time, and told him that in this he ought in duty to satisfy her. but he never dared to trust her with his secret; he feared her, though he loved her, for she was of the race of the ogres, and the king married her for her vast riches alone. it was even whispered about the court that she had ogreish inclinations, and that, whenever she saw little children passing by, she had all the difficulty in the world to prevent herself from falling upon them. and so the prince would never tell her one word. but when the king was dead, which happened about two years afterward, and he saw himself lord and master, he openly declared his marriage: and he went in great state to conduct his queen to the palace. they made a magnificent entry into the capital city, she riding between her two children. soon after, the king made war on emperor cantalabutte, his neighbor. he left the government of the kingdom to the queen, his mother, and earnestly commended his wife and children to her care. he was obliged to carry on the war all the summer, and as soon as he left, the queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law and her children to a country house among the woods, that she might with the more ease gratify her horrible longing. some few days afterward she went thither herself, and said to her head cook:-"i intend to eat little dawn for my dinner to-morrow." "o! madam!" cried the head cook. "i will have it so," replied the queen (and this she spoke in the tone of an ogress who had a strong desire to eat fresh meat), "and will eat her with a sharp sauce." the poor man, knowing very well that he must not play tricks with ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little dawn's chamber. she was then nearly four years old, and came up to him, jumping and laughing, to put her arms round his neck, and ask him for some sugar-candy. upon which he began to weep, the great knife fell out of his hand, and he went into the back yard and killed a little lamb, and dressed it with such good sauce that his mistress assured him she had never eaten anything so good in her life. he had at the same time taken up little dawn and carried her to his wife, to conceal her in his lodging at the end of the courtyard. eight days afterwards the wicked queen said to the chief cook, "i will sup upon little day." he answered not a word, being resolved to cheat her again as he had done before. he went to find little day, and saw him with a foil in his hand, with which he was fencing with a great monkey: the child was then only three years of age. he took him up in his arms and carried him to his wife, that she might conceal him in her chamber along with his sister, and instead of little day he served up a young and very tender kid, which the ogress found to be wonderfully good. all had gone well up to now; but one evening this wicked queen said to her chief cook:-"i will eat the queen with the same sauce i had with her children." now the poor chief cook was in despair and could not imagine how to deceive her again. the young queen was over twenty years old, not reckoning the hundred years she had been asleep: and how to find something to take her place greatly puzzled him. he then decided, to save his own life, to cut the queen's throat; and going up into her chamber, with intent to do it at once, he put himself into as great fury as he possibly could, and came into the young queen's room with his dagger in his hand. he would not, however, deceive her, but told her, with a great deal of respect, the orders he had received from the queen-mother. "do it; do it," she said, stretching out her neck. "carry out your orders, and then i shall go and see my children, my poor children, whom i loved so much and so tenderly." for she thought them dead, since they had been taken away without her knowledge. "no, no, madam," cried the poor chief cook, all in tears; "you shall not die, and you shall see your children again at once. but then you must go home with me to my lodgings, where i have concealed them, and i will deceive the queen once more, by giving her a young hind in your stead." upon this he forthwith conducted her to his room, where, leaving her to embrace her children, and cry along with them, he went and dressed a young hind, which the queen had for her supper, and devoured with as much appetite as if it had been the young queen. she was now well satisfied with her cruel deeds, and she invented a story to tell the king on his return, of how the queen his wife and her two children had been devoured by mad wolves. one evening, as she was, according to her custom, rambling round about the courts and yards of the palace to see if she could smell any fresh meat, she heard, in a room on the ground floor, little day crying, for his mamma was going to whip him, because he had been naughty; and she heard, at the same time, little dawn begging mercy for her brother. the ogress knew the voice of the queen and her children at once, and being furious at having been thus deceived, she gave orders (in a most horrible voice which made everybody tremble) that, next morning by break of day, they should bring into the middle of the great court a large tub filled with toads, vipers, snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to have the queen and her children, the chief cook, his wife and maid, thrown into it, all of whom were to be brought thither with their hands tied behind them. they were brought out accordingly, and the executioners were just going to throw them into the tub, when the king, who was not so soon expected, entered the court on horseback and asked, with the utmost astonishment, what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle. no one dared to tell him, when the ogress, all enraged to see what had happened, threw herself head foremost into the tub, and was instantly devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it to kill the others. the king was of course very sorry, for she was his mother; but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty children. little thumb. once upon a time there was a fagot-maker and his wife, who had seven children, all boys. the eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. they were very poor, and their seven children were a great source of trouble to them because not one of them was able to earn his bread. what gave them yet more uneasiness was that the youngest was very delicate, and scarce ever spoke a word, which made people take for stupidity that which was a sign of good sense. he was very little, and when born he was no bigger than one's thumb; hence he was called little thumb. the poor child was the drudge of the household, and was always in the wrong. he was, however, the most bright and discreet of all the brothers; and if he spoke little, he heard and thought the more. there came a very bad year, and the famine was so great that these poor people resolved to rid themselves of their children. one evening, when they were in bed, and the fagot-maker was sitting with his wife at the fire, he said to her, with his heart ready to burst with grief:-"you see plainly that we no longer can give our children food, and i cannot bear to see them die of hunger before my eyes; i am resolved to lose them in the wood to-morrow, which may very easily be done, for, while they amuse themselves in tying up fagots, we have only to run away and leave them without their seeing us." "ah!" cried out his wife, "could you really take the children and lose them?" in vain did her husband represent to her their great poverty; she would not consent to it. she was poor, but she was their mother. however, having considered what a grief it would be to her to see them die of hunger, she consented, and went weeping to bed. little thumb heard all they had said; for, hearing that they were talking business, he got up softly and slipped under his father's seat, so as to hear without being seen. he went to bed again, but did not sleep a wink all the rest of the night, thinking of what he had to do. he got up early in the morning, and went to the brookside, where he filled his pockets full of small white pebbles, and then returned home. they all went out, but little thumb never told his brothers a word of what he knew. [illustration: "slipped under his father's seat." p. 30.] they went into a very thick forest, where they could not see one another at ten paces apart. the fagot-maker began to cut wood, and the children to gather up sticks to make fagots. their father and mother, seeing them busy at their work, got away from them unbeknown and then all at once ran as fast as they could through a winding by-path. when the children found they were alone, they began to cry with all their might. little thumb let them cry on, knowing very well how to get home again; for, as he came, he had dropped the little white pebbles he had in his pockets all along the way. then he said to them, "do not be afraid, my brothers,--father and mother have left us here, but i will lead you home again; only follow me." they followed, and he brought them home by the very same way they had come into the forest. they dared not go in at first, but stood outside the door to listen to what their father and mother were saying. the very moment the fagot-maker and his wife reached home the lord of the manor sent them ten crowns, which he had long owed them, and which they never hoped to see. this gave them new life, for the poor people were dying of hunger. the fagot-maker sent his wife to the butcher's at once. as it was a long while since they had eaten, she bought thrice as much meat as was needed for supper for two people. when they had eaten, the woman said:-"alas! where are our poor children now? they would make a good feast of what we have left here; it was you, william, who wished to lose them. i told you we should repent of it. what are they now doing in the forest? alas! perhaps the wolves have already eaten them up; you are very inhuman thus to have lost your children." the fagot-maker grew at last quite out of patience, for she repeated twenty times that he would repent of it, and that she was in the right. he threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. the fagot-maker was, perhaps, more sorry than his wife, but she teased him so he could not endure it. she wept bitterly, saying:-"alas! where are my children now, my poor children?" she said this once so very loud that the children, who were at the door, heard her and cried out all together:-"here we are! here we are!" she ran immediately to let them in, and said as she embraced them:-"how happy i am to see you again, my dear children; you are very tired and very hungry, and, my poor peter, you are covered with mud. come in and let me clean you." peter was her eldest son, whom she loved more than all the rest, because he was red haired, as she was herself. they sat down to table, and ate with an appetite which pleased both father and mother, to whom they told how frightened they were in the forest, nearly all speaking at once. the good folk were delighted to see their children once more, and this joy continued while the ten crowns lasted. but when the money was all spent, they fell again into their former uneasiness, and resolved to lose their children again. and, that they might be the surer of doing it, they determined to take them much farther than before. they could not talk of this so secretly but they were overheard by little thumb, who laid his plans to get out of the difficulty as he had done before; but, though he got up very early to go and pick up some little pebbles, he could not, for he found the house-door double-locked. he did not know what to do. their father had given each of them a piece of bread for their breakfast. he reflected that he might make use of the bread instead of the pebbles, by throwing crumbs all along the way they should pass, and so he stuffed it in his pocket. their father and mother led them into the thickest and most obscure part of the forest, and then, stealing away into a by-path, left them there. little thumb was not very much worried about it, for he thought he could easily find the way again by means of his bread, which he had scattered all along as he came; but he was very much surprised when he could not find a single crumb: the birds had come and eaten them all. they were now in great trouble; for the more they wandered, the deeper they went into the forest. night now fell, and there arose a high wind, which filled them with fear. they fancied they heard on every side the howling of wolves coming to devour them. they scarce dared to speak or turn their heads. then it rained very hard, which wetted them to the skin. their feet slipped at every step, and they fell into the mud, covering their hands with it so that they knew not what to do with them. little thumb climbed up to the top of a tree, to see if he could discover anything. looking on every side, he saw at last a glimmering light, like that of a candle, but a long way beyond the forest. he came down, and, when upon the ground, he could see it no more, which grieved him sadly. however, having walked for some time with his brothers toward that side on which he had seen the light, he discovered it again as he came out of the wood. they arrived at last at the house where this candle was, not without many frights; for very often they lost sight of it, which happened every time they came into a hollow. they knocked at the door, and a good woman came and opened it. she asked them what they wanted. little thumb told her they were poor children who were lost in the forest, and desired to lodge there for charity's sake. the woman, seeing them all so very pretty, began to weep and said to them: "alas! poor babies, where do you come from? do you know that this house belongs to a cruel ogre who eats little children?" "alas! dear madam," answered little thumb (who, with his brothers, was trembling in every limb), "what shall we do? the wolves of the forest surely will devour us to-night if you refuse us shelter in your house; and so we would rather the gentleman should eat us. perhaps he may take pity upon us if you will be pleased to ask him to do so." the ogre's wife, who believed she could hide them from her husband till morning, let them come in, and took them to warm themselves at a very good fire; for there was a whole sheep roasting for the ogre's supper. as they began to warm themselves they heard three or four great raps at the door; this was the ogre, who was come home. his wife quickly hid them under the bed and went to open the door. the ogre at once asked if supper was ready and the wine drawn, and then sat himself down to table. the sheep was as yet all raw, but he liked it the better for that. he sniffed about to the right and left, saying:-"i smell fresh meat." "what you smell," said his wife, "must be the calf which i have just now killed and flayed." "i smell fresh meat, i tell you once more," replied the ogre, looking crossly at his wife, "and there is something here which i do not understand." as he spoke these words he got up from the table and went straight to the bed. "ah!" said he, "that is how you would cheat me; i know not why i do not eat you, too; it is well for you that you are tough. here is game, which comes very luckily to entertain three ogres of my acquaintance who are to pay me a visit in a day or two." he dragged them out from under the bed, one by one. the poor children fell upon their knees and begged his pardon, but they had to do with one of the most cruel of ogres, who, far from having any pity on them, was already devouring them in his mind, and told his wife they would be delicate eating when she had made a good sauce. he then took a great knife, and, coming up to these poor children, sharpened it upon a great whetstone which he held in his left hand. he had already taken hold of one of them when his wife said to him:-"what need you do it now? will you not have time enough to-morrow?" "hold your prating," said the ogre; "they will eat the tenderer." "but you have so much meat already," replied his wife; "here are a calf, two sheep, and half a pig." "that is true," said the ogre; "give them a good supper that they may not grow thin, and put them to bed." the good woman was overjoyed at this, and gave them a good supper; but they were so much afraid that they could not eat. as for the ogre, he sat down again to drink, being highly pleased that he had the wherewithal to treat his friends. he drank a dozen glasses more than ordinary, which got up into his head and obliged him to go to bed. the ogre had seven daughters, who were still little children. these young ogresses had all of them very fine complexions; but they all had little gray eyes, quite round, hooked noses, a very large mouth, and very long, sharp teeth, set far apart. they were not as yet wicked, but they promised well to be, for they had already bitten little children. they had been put to bed early, all seven in one bed, with every one a crown of gold upon her head. there was in the same chamber a bed of the like size, and the ogre's wife put the seven little boys into this bed, after which she went to bed herself. little thumb, who had observed that the ogre's daughters had crowns of gold upon their heads, and was afraid lest the ogre should repent his not killing them that evening, got up about midnight, and, taking his brothers' bonnets and his own, went very softly and put them upon the heads of the seven little ogresses, after having taken off their crowns of gold, which he put upon his own head and his brothers', so that the ogre might take them for his daughters, and his daughters for the little boys whom he wanted to kill. things turned out just as he had thought; for the ogre, waking about midnight, regretted that he had deferred till morning to do that which he might have done overnight, and jumped quickly out of bed, taking his great knife. "let us see," said he, "how our little rogues do, and not make two jobs of the matter." he then went up, groping all the way, into his daughters' chamber; and, coming to the bed where the little boys lay, and who were all fast asleep, except little thumb, who was terribly afraid when he found the ogre fumbling about his head, as he had done about his brothers', he felt the golden crowns, and said:-"i should have made a fine piece of work of it, truly; it is clear i drank too much last night." then he went to the bed where the girls lay, and, having found the boys' little bonnets:-"ah!" said he, "my merry lads, are you there? let us work boldly." and saying these words, without more ado, he cruelly murdered all his seven daughters. well pleased with what he had done, he went to bed again. so soon as little thumb heard the ogre snore, he waked his brothers, and bade them put on their clothes quickly and follow him. they stole softly into the garden and got over the wall. they ran about, all night, trembling all the while, without knowing which way they went. the ogre, when he woke, said to his wife: "go upstairs and dress those young rascals who came here last night." the ogress was very much surprised at this goodness of her husband, not dreaming after what manner she should dress them; but, thinking that he had ordered her to go up and put on their clothes, she went, and was horrified when she perceived her seven daughters all dead. she began by fainting away, as was only natural in such a case. the ogre, fearing his wife was too long in doing what he had ordered, went up himself to help her. he was no less amazed than his wife at this frightful spectacle. "ah! what have i done?" cried he. "the wretches shall pay for it, and that instantly." he threw a pitcher of water upon his wife's face, and having brought her to herself, "give me quickly," cried he, "my seven-leagued boots, that i may go and catch them." he went out into the country, and, after running in all directions, he came at last into the very road where the poor children were, and not above a hundred paces from their father's house. they espied the ogre, who went at one step from mountain to mountain, and over rivers as easily as the narrowest brooks. little thumb, seeing a hollow rock near the place where they were, hid his brothers in it, and crowded into it himself, watching always what would become of the ogre. the ogre, who found himself tired with his long and fruitless journey (for these boots of seven leagues greatly taxed the wearer), had a great mind to rest himself, and, by chance, went to sit down upon the rock in which the little boys had hidden themselves. as he was worn out with fatigue, he fell asleep, and, after reposing himself some time, began to snore so frightfully that the poor children were no less afraid of him than when he held up his great knife and was going to take their lives. little thumb was not so much frightened as his brothers, and told them that they should run away at once toward home while the ogre was asleep so soundly, and that they need not be in any trouble about him. they took his advice, and got home quickly. little thumb then went close to the ogre, pulled off his boots gently, and put them on his own legs. the boots were very long and large, but as they were fairy boots, they had the gift of becoming big or little, according to the legs of those who wore them; so that they fitted his feet and legs as well as if they had been made for him. he went straight to the ogre's house, where he saw his wife crying bitterly for the loss of her murdered daughters. "your husband," said little thumb, "is in very great danger, for he has been taken by a gang of thieves, who have sworn to kill him if he does not give them all his gold and silver. at the very moment they held their daggers at his throat he perceived me and begged me to come and tell you the condition he was in, and to say that you should give me all he has of value, without retaining any one thing; for otherwise they will kill him without mercy. as his case is very pressing, he desired me to make use of his seven-leagued boots, which you see i have on, so that i might make the more haste and that i might show you that i do not impose upon you." the good woman, being greatly frightened, gave him all she had; for this ogre was a very good husband, though he ate up little children. little thumb, having thus got all the ogre's money, came home to his father's house, where he was received with abundance of joy. there are many people who do not agree in regard to this act of little thumb's, and pretend that he never robbed the ogre at all, and that he only thought he might very justly take off his seven-leagued boots because he made no other use of them but to run after little children. these folks affirm that they are very well assured of this, because they have drunk and eaten often at the fagot-maker's house. they declare that when little thumb had taken off the ogre's boots he went to court, where he was informed that they were very much in trouble about a certain army, which was two hundred leagues off, and anxious as to the success of a battle. he went, they say, to the king and told him that if he desired it, he would bring him news from the army before night. the king promised him a great sum of money if he succeeded. little thumb returned that very same night with the news; and, this first expedition causing him to be known, he earned as much as he wished, for the king paid him very well for carrying his orders to the army. many ladies employed him also to carry messages, from which he made much money. after having for some time carried on the business of a messenger and gained thereby great wealth, he went home to his father, and it is impossible to express the joy of his family. he placed them all in comfortable circumstances, bought places for his father and brothers, and by that means settled them very handsomely in the world, while he successfully continued to make his own way. the master cat, or puss in boots. once upon a time there was a miller who left no more riches to the three sons he had than his mill, his ass, and his cat. the division was soon made. neither the lawyer nor the attorney was sent for. they would soon have eaten up all the poor property. the eldest had the mill, the second the ass, and the youngest nothing but the cat. the youngest, as we can understand, was quite unhappy at having so poor a share. "my brothers," said he, "may get their living handsomely enough by joining their stocks together; but, for my part, when i have eaten up my cat, and made me a muff of his skin, i must die of hunger." the cat, who heard all this, without appearing to take any notice, said to him with a grave and serious air:-"do not thus afflict yourself, my master; you have nothing else to do but to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me, that i may scamper through the brambles, and you shall see that you have not so poor a portion in me as you think." though the cat's master did not think much of what he said, he had seen him play such cunning tricks to catch rats and mice--hanging himself by the heels, or hiding himself in the meal, to make believe he was dead--that he did not altogether despair of his helping him in his misery. when the cat had what he asked for, he booted himself very gallantly, and putting his bag about his neck, he held the strings of it in his two forepaws, and went into a warren where was a great number of rabbits. he put bran and sow-thistle into his bag, and, stretching out at length, as if he were dead, he waited for some young rabbits, not yet acquainted with the deceits of the world, to come and rummage his bag for what he had put into it. scarcely was he settled but he had what he wanted. a rash and foolish young rabbit jumped into his bag, and monsieur puss, immediately drawing close the strings, took him and killed him at once. proud of his prey, he went with it to the palace, and asked to speak with the king. he was shown upstairs into his majesty's apartment, and, making a low bow to the king, he said:-"i have brought you, sire, a rabbit which my noble lord, the master of carabas" (for that was the title which puss was pleased to give his master) "has commanded me to present to your majesty from him." "tell thy master," said the king, "that i thank him, and that i am pleased with his gift." another time he went and hid himself among some standing corn, still holding his bag open; and when a brace of partridges ran into it, he drew the strings, and so caught them both. he then went and made a present of these to the king, as he had done before of the rabbit which he took in the warren. the king, in like manner, received the partridges with great pleasure, and ordered his servants to reward him. the cat continued for two or three months thus to carry his majesty, from time to time, some of his master's game. one day when he knew that the king was to take the air along the riverside, with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master:-"if you will follow my advice, your fortune is made. you have nothing else to do but go and bathe in the river, just at the spot i shall show you, and leave the rest to me." the marquis of carabas did what the cat advised him to, without knowing what could be the use of doing it. while he was bathing, the king passed by, and the cat cried out with all his might:-"help! help! my lord the marquis of carabas is drowning!" at this noise the king put his head out of the coach window, and seeing the cat who had so often brought him game, he commanded his guards to run immediately to the assistance of his lordship the marquis of carabas. while they were drawing the poor marquis out of the river, the cat came up to the coach and told the king that, while his master was bathing, there came by some rogues, who ran off with his clothes, though he had cried out, "thieves! thieves!" several times, as loud as he could. the cunning cat had hidden the clothes under a great stone. the king immediately commanded the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the lord marquis of carabas. [illustration: "the marquis of carabas is drowning!" p. 48.] the king was extremely polite to him, and as the fine clothes he had given him set off his good looks (for he was well made and handsome), the king's daughter found him very much to her liking, and the marquis of carabas had no sooner cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances than she fell in love with him to distraction. the king would have him come into the coach and take part in the airing. the cat, overjoyed to see his plan begin to succeed, marched on before, and, meeting with some countrymen, who were mowing a meadow, he said to them:-"good people, you who are mowing, if you do not tell the king that the meadow you mow belongs to my lord marquis of carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot." the king did not fail to ask the mowers to whom the meadow they were mowing belonged. "to my lord marquis of carabas," answered they all together, for the cat's threat had made them afraid. "you have a good property there," said the king to the marquis of carabas. "you see, sire," said the marquis, "this is a meadow which never fails to yield a plentiful harvest every year." the master cat, who went still on before, met with some reapers, and said to them:-"good people, you who are reaping, if you do not say that all this corn belongs to the marquis of carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot." the king, who passed by a moment after, wished to know to whom belonged all that corn, which he then saw. "to my lord marquis of carabas," replied the reapers, and the king was very well pleased with it, as well as the marquis, whom he congratulated thereupon. the master cat, who went always before, said the same thing to all he met, and the king was astonished at the vast estates of my lord marquis of carabas. monsieur puss came at last to a stately castle, the master of which was an ogre, the richest ever known; for all the lands which the king had then passed through belonged to this castle. the cat, who had taken care to inform himself who this ogre was and what he could do, asked to speak with him, saying he could not pass so near his castle without having the honor of paying his respects to him. the ogre received him as civilly as an ogre could do, and made him sit down. "i have been assured," said the cat, "that you have the gift of being able to change yourself into all sorts of creatures you have a mind to; that you can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, or elephant, and the like." "that is true," answered the ogre, roughly; "and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion." puss was so terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he immediately climbed into the gutter, not without much trouble and danger, because of his boots, which were of no use at all to him for walking upon the tiles. a little while after, when puss saw that the ogre had resumed his natural form, he came down, and owned he had been very much frightened. "i have, moreover, been informed," said the cat, "but i know not how to believe it, that; you have also the power to take on you the shape of the smallest animals; for example, to change yourself into a rat or a mouse, but i must own to you i take this to be impossible." "impossible!" cried the ogre; "you shall see." and at the same time he changed himself into a mouse, and began to run about the floor. puss no sooner perceived this than he fell upon him and ate him up. meanwhile, the king, who saw, as he passed, this fine castle of the ogre's, had a mind to go into it. puss, who heard the noise of his majesty's coach coming over the drawbridge, ran out, and said to the king, "your majesty is welcome to this castle of my lord marquis of carabas." "what! my lord marquis," cried the king, "and does this castle also belong to you? there can be nothing finer than this courtyard and all the stately buildings which surround it; let us see the interior, if you please." the marquis gave his hand to the young princess, and followed the king, who went first. they passed into the great hall, where they found a magnificent collation, which the ogre had prepared for his friends, who were that very day to visit him, but dared not to enter, knowing the king was there. his majesty, charmed with the good qualities of my lord of carabas, as was also his daughter, who had fallen violently in love with him, and seeing the vast estate he possessed, said to him:-"it will be owing to yourself only, my lord marquis, if you are not my son-in-law." the marquis, with low bows, accepted the honor which his majesty conferred upon him, and forthwith that very same day married the princess. puss became a great lord, and never ran after mice any more except for his diversion. riquet with the tuft. once upon a time there was a queen who had a son so ugly and so misshapen that it was long disputed whether he had human form. a fairy who was at his birth said, however, that he would be very amiable for all that, since he would have uncommon good sense. she even added that it would be in his power, by virtue of a gift she had just then given him, to bestow as much sense as he pleased on the person he loved the best. all this somewhat comforted the poor queen. it is true that this child no sooner began to talk than he said a thousand pretty things, and in all his actions there was an intelligence that was quite charming. i forgot to tell you that he was born with a little tuft of hair upon his head, which made them call him riquet[1] with the tuft, for riquet was the family name. [footnote 1: r[=e]k[=a].] seven or eight years later the queen of a neighboring kingdom had two daughters who were twins. the first born of these was more beautiful than the day; whereat the queen was so very glad that those present were afraid that her excess of joy would do her harm. the same fairy who was present at the birth of little riquet with the tuft was here also, and, to moderate the queen's gladness, she declared that this little princess should have no sense at all, but should be as stupid as she was pretty. this mortified the queen extremely; but afterward she had a far greater sorrow, for the second daughter proved to be very ugly. "do not afflict yourself so much, madam," said the fairy. "your daughter shall have her recompense; she shall have so great a portion of sense that the want of beauty will hardly be perceived." "god grant it," replied the queen; "but is there no way to make the eldest, who is so pretty, have any sense?" "i can do nothing for her, madam, as to sense," answered the fairy, "but everything as to beauty; and as there is nothing i would not do for your satisfaction, i give her for gift that she shall have power to make handsome the person who shall best please her." as these princesses grew up, their perfections grew with them. all the public talk was of the beauty of the elder and the rare good sense of the younger. it is true also that their defects increased considerably with their age. the younger visibly grew uglier and uglier, and the elder became every day more and more stupid: she either made no answer at all to what was asked her, or said something very silly. she was with all this so unhandy that she could not place four pieces of china upon the mantelpiece without breaking one of them, nor drink a glass of water without spilling half of it upon her clothes. although beauty is a very great advantage in young people, the younger sister was always the more preferred in society. people would indeed go first to the beauty to look upon and admire her, but turn aside soon after to the wit to hear a thousand most entertaining and agreeable things; and it was amazing to see, in less than a quarter of an hour's time, the elder with not a soul near her, and the whole company crowding about the younger. the elder, dull as she was, could not fail to notice this; and without the slightest regret would have given all her beauty to have half her sister's wit. the queen, prudent as she was, could not help reproaching her several times for her stupidity, which almost made the poor princess die of grief. one day, as she had hidden herself in a wood to bewail her misfortune, she saw coming to her a very disagreeable little man, but most magnificently dressed. this was the young prince riquet with the tuft, who having fallen in love with her upon seeing her picture,--many of which were distributed all the world over,--had left his father's kingdom to have the pleasure of seeing and talking with her. overjoyed to find her thus alone, he addressed himself to her with all imaginable politeness and respect. having observed, after he had paid her the ordinary compliments, that she was extremely melancholy, he said to her:-"i cannot comprehend, madam, how a person so beautiful as you are can be so sorrowful as you seem to be; for though i can boast of having seen a great number of exquisitely charming ladies, i can say that i never beheld any one whose beauty approaches yours." "you are pleased to say so," answered the princess, and here she stopped. "beauty," replied riquet with the tuft, "is such a great advantage, that it ought to take place of all things besides; and since you possess this treasure, i can see nothing that can possibly very much afflict you." "i had far rather," cried the princess, "be as ugly as you are, and have sense, than have the beauty i possess, and be as stupid as i am." "there is nothing, madam," returned he, "shows more that we have good sense than to believe we have none; and it is the nature of that excellent quality that the more people have of it, the more they believe they want it." "i do not know that," said the princess; "but i know very well that i am very senseless, and that vexes me mightily." "if that be all which troubles you, madam, i can very easily put an end to your affliction." "and how will you do that?" cried the princess. "i have the power, madam," replied riquet with the tuft, "to give to that person whom i love best as much good sense as can be had; and as you, madam, are that very person, it will be your fault only if you have not as great a share of it as any one living, provided you will be pleased to marry me." the princess was quite confused, and answered not a word. "i see," replied riquet with the tuft, "that this proposal does not please you, and i do not wonder at it; but i will give you a whole year to consider it." the princess had so little sense and, at the same time, so great a longing to have some, that she imagined the end of that year would never come, so she accepted the proposal which was made her. she had no sooner promised riquet with the tuft that she would marry him on that day twelvemonth than she found herself quite otherwise than she was before: she had an incredible faculty of speaking whatever she had in her mind in a polite, easy, and natural manner. she began that moment a very gallant conversation with riquet with the tuft, which she kept up at such a rate that riquet with the tuft believed he had given her more sense than he had reserved for himself. when she returned to the palace, the whole court knew not what to think of such a sudden and extraordinary change; for they heard from her now as much sensible discourse and as many infinitely witty phrases as they had heard stupid and silly impertinences before. the whole court was overjoyed beyond imagination at it. it pleased all but her younger sister, because, having no longer the advantage of her in respect of wit, she appeared in comparison with her a very disagreeable, homely girl. the king governed himself by her advice, and would even sometimes hold a council in her apartment. the news of this change in the princess spread everywhere; the young princes of the neighboring kingdoms strove all they could to gain her favor, and almost all of them asked her in marriage; but she found not one of them had sense enough for her. she gave them all a hearing, but would not engage herself to any. however, there came one so powerful, so rich, so witty, and so handsome that she could not help feeling a strong inclination toward him. her father perceived it, and told her that she was her own mistress as to the choice of a husband, and that she might declare her intentions. she thanked her father, and desired him to give her time to consider it. she went by chance to walk in the same wood where she met riquet with the tuft, the more conveniently to think what she ought to do. while she was walking in a profound meditation, she heard a confused noise under her feet, as it were of a great many people busily running backward and forward. listening more attentively, she heard one say:-"bring me that pot," another, "give me that kettle," and a third, "put some wood upon the fire." the ground at the same time opened, and she saw under her feet a great kitchen full of cooks, kitchen helps, and all sorts of officers necessary for a magnificent entertainment. there came out of it a company of cooks, to the number of twenty or thirty, who went to plant themselves about a very long table set up in the forest, with their larding pins in their hands and fox tails in their caps, and began to work, keeping time to a very harmonious tune. the princess, all astonished at this sight, asked them for whom they worked. "for prince riquet with the tuft," said the chief of them, "who is to be married to-morrow." the princess, more surprised than ever, and recollecting all at once that it was now that day twelvemonth on which she had promised to marry the prince riquet with the tuft, was ready to sink into the ground. what made her forget this was that when she made this promise, she was very silly; and having obtained that vast stock of sense which the prince had bestowed upon her, she had entirely forgotten the things she had done in the days of her stupidity. she continued her walk, but had not taken thirty steps before riquet with the tuft presented himself to her, gallant and most magnificently dressed, like a prince who was going to be married. "you see, madam," said he, "i am exact in keeping my word, and doubt not in the least but you are come hither to perform your promise." "i frankly confess," answered the princess, "that i have not yet come to a decision in this matter, and i believe i never shall be able to arrive at such a one as you desire." "you astonish me, madam," said riquet with the tuft. "i can well believe it," said the princess; "and surely if i had to do with a clown, or a man of no sense, i should find myself very much at a loss. 'a princess always keeps her word,' he would say to me, 'and you must marry me, since you promised to do so.' but as he to whom i talk is the one man in the world who is master of the greatest sense and judgment, i am sure he will hear reason. you know that when i was but a fool i could scarcely make up my mind to marry you; why will you have me, now i have so much judgment as you gave me, come to such a decision which i could not then make up my mind to agree to? if you sincerely thought to make me your wife, you have been greatly in the wrong to deprive me of my dull simplicity, and make me see things much more clearly than i did." "if a man of no wit and sense," replied riquet with the tuft, "would be well received, as you say, in reproaching you for breach of your word, why will you not let me, madam, have the same usage in a matter wherein all the happiness of my life is concerned? is it reasonable that persons of wit and sense should be in a worse condition than those who have none? can you pretend this, you who have so great a share, and desired so earnestly to have it? but let us come to the fact, if you please. putting aside my ugliness and deformity, is there anything in me which displeased you? are you dissatisfied with my birth, my wit, my humor, or my manners?" "not at all," answered the princess; "i love you and respect you in all that you mention." [illustration: "i am exact in keeping my word." p. 61.] "if it be so," said riquet with the tuft, "i am happy, since it is in your power to make me the most amiable of men." "how can that be?" said the princess. "it is done," said riquet with the tuft, "if you love me enough to wish it was so; and that you may no ways doubt, madam, of what i say, know that the same fairy who on my birthday gave me for gift the power of making the person who should please me witty and judicious, has in like manner given you for gift the power of making him whom you love and to whom you would grant the favor, to be extremely handsome." "if it be so," said the princess, "i wish with all my heart that you may be the most lovable prince in the world, and i bestow my gift on you as much as i am able." the princess had no sooner pronounced these words than riquet with the tuft appeared to her the finest prince upon earth, the handsomest and most amiable man she ever saw. some affirm that it was not the fairy's charms, but love alone, which worked the change. they say that the princess, having made due reflection on the perseverance of her lover, his discretion, and all the good qualities of his mind, his wit and judgment, saw no longer the deformity of his body, nor the ugliness of his face; that his hump seemed to her no more than the grand air of one having a broad back, and that whereas till then she saw him limp horribly, she now found it nothing more than a certain sidling air, which charmed her. they say further that his eyes, which were squinted very much, seemed to her most bright and sparkling, that their irregularity passed in her judgment for a mark of the warmth of his affection, and, in short, that his great red nose was, in her opinion, somewhat martial and heroic in character. however it was, the princess promised immediately to marry him, on condition that he obtained the king's consent. the king, knowing that his daughter highly esteemed riquet with the tuft, whom he knew also for a most sage and judicious prince, received him for his son-in-law with pleasure, and the next morning their nuptials were celebrated, as riquet with the tuft had foreseen, and according to the orders he had given a long time before. blue beard. once upon a time there was a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate, carved furniture, and coaches gilded all over. but unhappily this man had a blue beard, which made him so ugly and so terrible that all the women and girls ran away from him. one of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were perfect beauties. he asked for one of them in marriage, leaving to her the choice of which she would bestow on him. they would neither of them have him, and they sent him backward and forward from one to the other, neither being able to make up her mind to marry a man who had a blue beard. another thing which made them averse to him was that he had already married several wives, and nobody knew what had become of them. blue beard, to become better acquainted, took them, with their mother and three or four of their best friends, with some young people of the neighborhood to one of his country seats, where they stayed a whole week. there was nothing going on but pleasure parties, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth, and feasting. nobody went to bed, but all passed the night in playing pranks on each other. in short, everything succeeded so well that the youngest daughter began to think that the beard of the master of the house was not so very blue, and that he was a very civil gentleman. so as soon as they returned home, the marriage was concluded. about a month afterward blue beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a country journey for six weeks at least, upon business of great importance. he desired her to amuse herself well in his absence, to send for her friends, to take them into the country, if she pleased, and to live well wherever she was. "here," said he, "are the keys of the two great warehouses wherein i have my best furniture: these are of the room where i keep my silver and gold plate, which is not in everyday use; these open my safes, which hold my money, both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels; and this is the master-key to all my apartments. but as for this little key, it is the key of the closet at the end of the great gallery on the ground floor. open them all; go everywhere; but as for that little closet, i forbid you to enter it, and i promise you surely that, if you open it, there's nothing that you may not expect from my anger." she promised to obey exactly all his orders; and he, after having embraced her, got into his coach and proceeded on his journey. her neighbors and good friends did not stay to be sent for by the new-married lady, so great was their impatience to see all the riches of her house, not daring to come while her husband was there, because of his blue beard, which frightened them. they at once ran through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were so fine and rich, and each seemed to surpass all others. they went up into the warehouses, where was the best and richest furniture; and they could not sufficiently admire the number and beauty of the tapestry, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, and looking-glasses, in which you might see yourself from head to foot. some of them were framed with glass, others with silver, plain and gilded, the most beautiful and the most magnificent ever seen. [illustration: "if you open it, there's nothing you may not expect from my anger." p. 67.] they ceased not to praise and envy the happiness of their friend, who, in the meantime, was not at all amused by looking upon all these rich things, because of her impatience to go and open the closet on the ground floor. her curiosity was so great that, without considering how uncivil it was to leave her guests, she went down a little back staircase, with such excessive haste that twice or thrice she came near breaking her neck. having reached the closet-door, she stood still for some time, thinking of her husband's orders, and considering that unhappiness might attend her if she was disobedient; but the temptation was so strong she could not overcome it. she then took the little key, and opened the door, trembling. at first she could not see anything plainly, because the windows were shut. after some moments she began to perceive that several dead women were scattered about the floor. (these were all the wives whom blue beard had married and murdered, one after the other, because they did not obey his orders about the closet on the ground floor.) she thought she surely would die for fear, and the key, which she pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand. after having somewhat recovered from the shock, she picked up the key, locked the door, and went upstairs into her chamber to compose herself; but she could not rest, so much was she frightened. having observed that the key of the closet was stained, she tried two or three times to wipe off the stain, but the stain would not come out. in vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and sand. the stain still remained, for the key was a magic key, and she could never make it quite clean; when the stain was gone off from one side, it came again on the other. blue beard returned from his journey that same evening, and said he had received letters upon the road, informing him that the business which called him away was ended to his advantage. his wife did all she could to convince him she was delighted at his speedy return. next morning he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but with such a trembling hand that he easily guessed what had happened. "how is it," said he, "that the key of my closet is not among the rest?" "i must certainly," said she, "have left it upstairs upon the table." "do not fail," said blue beard, "to bring it to me presently." after having put off doing it several times, she was forced to bring him the key. blue beard, having examined it, said to his wife:-"how comes this stain upon the key?" "i do not know," cried the poor woman, paler than death. "you do not know!" replied blue beard. "i very well know. you wished to go into the cabinet? very well, madam; you shall go in, and take your place among the ladies you saw there." she threw herself weeping at her husband's feet, and begged his pardon with all the signs of a true repentance for her disobedience. she would have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful was she; but blue beard had a heart harder than any stone. "you must die, madam," said he, "and that at once." "since i must die," answered she, looking upon him with her eyes all bathed in tears, "give me some little time to say my prayers." "i give you," replied blue beard, "half a quarter of an hour, but not one moment more." when she was alone she called out to her sister, and said to her:-"sister anne,"--for that was her name,--"go up, i beg you, to the top of the tower, and look if my brothers are not coming; they promised me they would come to-day, and if you see them, give them a sign to make haste." her sister anne went up to the top of the tower, and the poor afflicted wife cried out from time to time:-"anne, sister anne, do you see any one coming?" and sister anne said:-"i see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which looks green." in the meanwhile blue beard, holding a great sabre in his hand, cried to his wife as loud as he could:-"come down instantly, or i shall come up to you." "one moment longer, if you please," said his wife; and then she cried out very softly, "anne, sister anne, dost thou see anybody coming?" and sister anne answered:-"i see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which is green." "come down quickly," cried blue beard, "or i will come up to you." "i am coming," answered his wife; and then she cried, "anne, sister anne, dost thou not see any one coming?" "i see," replied sister anne, "a great dust, which comes from this side." "are they my brothers?" "alas! no, my sister, i see a flock of sheep." "will you not come down?" cried blue beard. "one moment longer," said his wife, and then she cried out, "anne, sister anne, dost thou see nobody coming?" "i see," said she, "two horsemen, but they are yet a great way off." "god be praised," replied the poor wife, joyfully; "they are my brothers; i will make them a sign, as well as i can, for them to make haste." then blue beard bawled out so loud that he made the whole house tremble. the distressed wife came down and threw herself at his feet, all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders. "all this is of no help to you," says blue beard: "you must die;" then, taking hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up his sword in the air with the other, he was about to take off her head. the poor lady, turning about to him, and looking at him with dying eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to her thoughts. "no, no," said he, "commend thyself to god," and again lifting his arm-at this moment there was such a loud knocking at the gate that blue beard stopped suddenly. the gate was opened, and presently entered two horsemen, who, with sword in hand, ran directly to blue beard. he knew them to be his wife's brothers, one a dragoon, the other a musketeer. he ran away immediately, but the two brothers pursued him so closely that they overtook him before he could get to the steps of the porch. there they ran their swords through his body, and left him dead. the poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength enough to arise and welcome her brothers. blue beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his estate. she made use of one portion of it to marry her sister anne to a young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another portion to buy captains' commissions for her brothers; and the rest to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the sorry time she had passed with blue beard. the fairy. once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters. the elder was so much like her, both in looks and character, that whoever saw the daughter saw the mother. they were both so disagreeable and so proud that there was no living with them. the younger, who was the very picture of her father for sweetness of temper and virtue, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. as people naturally love their own likeness, this mother doted on her elder daughter, and at the same time had a great aversion for the younger. she made her eat in the kitchen and work continually. among other things, this unfortunate child had to go twice a day to draw water more than a mile and a half from the house, and bring home a pitcherful of it. one day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. "oh, yes, with all my heart, goody," said this pretty little girl. rinsing the pitcher at once, she took some of the clearest water from the fountain, and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while, that she might drink the easier. the good woman having drunk, said to her:-"you are so pretty, so good and courteous, that i cannot help giving you a gift." for this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor country-woman, to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girl would go. "i will give you for gift," continued the fairy, "that, at every word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a flower or a jewel." when this pretty girl returned, her mother scolded at her for staying so long at the fountain. "i beg your pardon, mamma," said the poor girl, "for not making more haste." and in speaking these words there came out of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds. "what is it i see there?" said her mother, quite astonished. "i think pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! how happens this, my child?" this was the first time she had ever called her "my child." the girl told her frankly all the matter, not without dropping out great numbers of diamonds. "truly," cried the mother, "i must send my own dear child thither. fanny, look at what comes out of your sister's mouth when she speaks. would you not be glad, my dear, to have the same gift? you have only to go and draw water out of the fountain, and when a poor woman asks you to let her drink, to give it to her very civilly." [illustration: "with all my heart, goody." p. 75.] "i should like to see myself going to the fountain to draw water," said this ill-bred minx. "i insist you shall go," said the mother, "and that instantly." she went, but grumbled all the way, taking with her the best silver tankard in the house. she no sooner reached the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood, a magnificently dressed lady, who came up to her, and asked to drink. this was the same fairy who had appeared to her sister, but she had now taken the air and dress of a princess, to see how far this girl's rudeness would go. "am i come hither," said the proud, ill-bred girl, "to serve you with water, pray? i suppose this silver tankard was brought purely for your ladyship, was it? however, you may drink out of it, if you have a fancy." "you are scarcely polite," answered the fairy, without anger. "well, then, since you are so disobliging, i give you for gift that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad." so soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out:-"well, daughter?" "well, mother?" answered the unhappy girl, throwing out of her mouth a viper and a toad. "oh, mercy!" cried the mother, "what is it i see? it is her sister who has caused all this, but she shall pay for it," and immediately she ran to beat her. the poor child fled away from her, and went to hide herself in the forest nearby. the king's son, who was returning from the chase, met her, and seeing her so beautiful, asked her what she did there alone and why she cried. "alas! sir, my mother has turned me out of doors." the king's son, who saw five or six pearls and as many diamonds come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. she told him the whole story. the king's son fell in love with her, and, considering that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion another bride could bring, conducted her to the palace of the king, his father, and there married her. as for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her out of doors. the miserable girl, after wandering about and finding no one to take her in, went to a corner of the wood, and there died. little red riding-hood. once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature that ever was seen. her mother was very fond of her, and her grandmother loved her still more. this good woman made for her a little red riding-hood, which became the girl so well that everybody called her little red riding-hood. one day her mother, having made some custards, said to her:-"go, my dear, and see how your grandmother does, for i hear she has been very ill; carry her a custard and this little pot of butter." little red riding-hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother's, who lived in another village. as she was going through the wood, she met gaffer wolf, who had a very great mind to eat her up; but he dared not, because of some fagot-makers hard by in the forest. he asked her whither she was going. the poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and hear a wolf talk, said to him:-"i am going to see my grandmother, and carry her a custard and a little pot of butter from my mamma." "does she live far off?" said the wolf. "oh, yes," answered little red riding-hood; "it is beyond that mill you see there, the first house you come to in the village." "well," said the wolf, "and i'll go and see her, too. i'll go this way, and you go that, and we shall see who will be there first." the wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the shortest way, and the little girl went by the longest way, amusing herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such little flowers as she met with. the wolf was not long before he reached the old woman's house. he knocked at the door--tap, tap, tap. "who's there?" called the grandmother. "your grandchild, little red riding-hood," replied the wolf, imitating her voice, "who has brought a custard and a little pot of butter sent to you by mamma." the good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out:-"pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." the wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. he fell upon the good woman and ate her up in no time, for he had not eaten anything for more than three days. he then shut the door, went into the grandmother's bed, and waited for little red riding-hood, who came sometime afterward and knocked at the door--tap, tap, tap. "who's there?" called the wolf. little red riding-hood, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at first afraid; but thinking her grandmother had a cold, answered:-"'tis your grandchild, little red riding-hood, who has brought you a custard and a little pot of butter sent to you by mamma." the wolf cried out to her, softening his voice a little:-"pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." little red riding-hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. the wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes:-"put the custard and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come and lie down with me." little red riding-hood undressed herself and went into bed, where she was much surprised to see how her grandmother looked in her night-clothes. she said to her:-"grandmamma, what great arms you have got!" "that is the better to hug thee, my dear." "grandmamma, what great legs you have got!" [illustration: "he fell upon the good woman." p. 81.] "that is to run the better, my child." "grandmamma, what great ears you have got!" "that is to hear the better, my child." "grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!" "it is to see the better, my child." "grandmamma, what great teeth you have got!" "that is to eat thee up." and, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon little red riding-hood, and ate her all up. note. the eight stories contained in this volume are first found in print in french in a magazine entitled, _receuil de pièces curieuses et nouvelles tant en prose qu'en vers_, which was published by adrian moetjens at the hague in 1696-1697. they were immediately afterward published at paris in a volume entitled, _histoires ou contes du temps passé, avec des moralites--contes de ma mère l'oie_. the earliest translation into english has been found in a little book containing both the english and french, entitled, "tales of passed times, by mother goose. with morals. written in french by m. (charles) perrault, and englished by r.s. gent." who r.s. was and when he made his translation we can only conjecture. mr. andrew lang, in his "perrault's popular tales" (p. xxxiv), writes: "an english version translated by mr. samber, printed for j. pote, was advertised, mr. austin dobson tells me, in the _monthly chronicle_, march, 1729." these stories which may be said to be as old as the race itself--certainly their germs are to be found in the oldest literature and among the oldest folk-tales in the world--were orally current in france and the neighboring countries in nearly the form in which perrault wrote them for very many years; and an interesting account of the various forms in which they are found in the literature and folklore of other nations before perrault's time is given in _les contes de ma mère l'oie avant perrault_, by charles deulin, paris, e. dentu, 1878. in this book mr. deulin inclines to the view that the stories as first published by perrault were not really written by him, but by his little son of ten or eleven, to whom perrault told the stories as he had gathered them up with the intention of rendering them in verse after the manner of la fontaine. the lad had an excellent memory, much natural wit, and a great gift of expression. he loved the stories his father told him and thoroughly enjoyed the task his father set him of rewriting them from memory, as an exercise. this was so happily done, in such a fresh, artless, and engaging style, exactly befitting the subjects of the stories, that the father found the son's version better than the one he had contemplated and gave that to the world instead. these stories made their way slowly in england at first, but in the end they nearly eclipsed the native fairy tales and legends, which, owing to puritan influence, had been frowned upon and discouraged until they were remembered only in the remoter districts, and told only by the few who had not come under its sway. indeed, the puritanical objection to nursery lore of all kinds still lingers in some corners of england. the stories of perrault came in just when the severer manifestations of puritanism were beginning to decline, and they have since become as much a part of english fairy lore as the old english folk and fairy tales themselves. these latter, thanks to mr. joseph jacob, mr. andrew lang, mr. e.s. hartland, and others, have been unearthed and revived, and prove to have lost nothing of their power of taking hold upon the minds of the little folk. perrault says of his collection that it is certain these stories excite in the children who read them the desire to resemble those characters who become happy, and at the same time they inspire them with the fear of the consequences which happen to those who do ill deeds; and he claims that they all contain a very distinct moral which is more or less evident to all who read them. emerson says: "what nature at one time provides for use, she afterwards turns to ornament," and herbert spencer, following out this idea, remarks that "the fairy lore, which in times past was matter of grave belief and held sway over people's conduct, has since been transformed into ornament for _the midsummer night's dream_, _the tempest_, _the fairy queen_, and endless small tales and poems; and still affords subjects for children's story books, amuses boys and girls, and becomes matter for jocose allusion." thus, also, sir walter scott, in a note to "the lady of the lake," says: "the mythology of one period would appear to pass into the romance of the next, and that into the nursery tales of subsequent ages," and max müller, in his "chips from a german workshop," says: "the gods of ancient mythology were changed into the demigods and heroes of ancient epic poetry, and these demigods again became at a later age the principal characters of our nursery tales." these thoughts may help to a better understanding of some of the uses of such stories and of their proper place in children's reading. c.w. the temple classics for young people [illustration] tales _of_ passed times told by master charles perrault _with twelve illustrations by_ charles robinson london: j.m. dent & company aldine house, bedford street covent garden. 1900. it is to perrault that we owe our acquaintance with the greater number of good old-fashioned fairy-tales, but an edition of these, although it includes such intimate friends of our childhood as blue beard, the sleeping beauty, and little red riding-hood, is hardly complete without "beauty and the beast"; a version of this tale, by mme. le prince de beaumont, has, therefore, been added to this collection. it has also been increased, space permitting it, by the insertion of two tales by mme. la comtesse d'aulnoy; her writings, of a less robust class than those of perrault, possess in their atmosphere of hidden magic, the charm which resides in that special feature of fairyland, and the addition of "the benevolent frog" and "princess rosette" will not, we think, be unwelcome to the youthful reader. contents page the sleeping beauty in the wood 5 little red riding-hood 23 blue beard 31 master cat; or, puss in boots 43 the fairies 55 cinderella; or, the little glass slipper 63 riquet with the tuft 77 little thumbling 91 beauty and the beast 109 the benevolent frog 133 princess rosette 169 list of illustrations page cinderella _frontispiece_ she fell into a swoon 9 "grandma, what great ears you have!" 25 "your tears are useless," said blue beard; "you must die" 37 puss among the reapers 47 she gave it to the woman 57 the king's son gave her his hand 67 "then," said the princess, "i wish you may be the handsomest prince in the world" 85 the boys followed him 93 when she opened her eyes, she saw, standing beside her, a woman of gigantic size clothed in a lion's skin 137 "oh, you are jesting," said the king of the peacocks 177 the sleeping beauty in the wood there were once a king and queen, who were very unhappy at not having any children, more unhappy than words can tell. vows, pilgrimages, everything was tried, but nothing was of any avail; at length, however, a little daughter was born to them. there was a splendid christening. for godmothers, they gave the young princess all the fairies they could find in the country--they were seven in number--in order that each making her a gift, according to the custom of fairies in those days, the princess might, by these means, become possessed of all imaginable perfections. when the ceremony was over, all the company returned to the king's palace, where a great banquet had been prepared for the fairies. the table was magnificently laid for them, and each had placed for her a massive gold case, containing a spoon, a fork, and a knife of fine gold, set with diamonds and rubies. but as they were all taking their seats, there was seen to enter an old fairy, who had not been invited, for everyone thought that she was either dead or enchanted, as she had not been outside the tower in which she lived for upwards of fifty years. the king ordered a cover to be laid for her, but there was no possibility of giving her a massive gold case, such as the others had, because there had been only seven made expressly for the seven fairies. the old fairy thought she was treated with contempt, and muttered some threats between her teeth. one of the young fairies, who chanced to be near her, overheard her grumblings, and was afraid she might bestow some evil gift on the young princess. accordingly, as soon as they rose from table, she went and hid herself behind the hangings, in order to be the last to speak, and so enable herself to repair, as far as possible, any harm the old fairy might have done. meanwhile the fairies began bestowing their gifts on the princess. the youngest, as her gift, promised that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next fairy, that she should have the mind of an angel; the third, that every movement of hers should be full of grace; the fourth, that she should dance to perfection; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; the sixth, that she should play on every kind of instrument in the most exquisite manner possible. it was now the turn of the old fairy, and she said, while her head shook more with malice than with age, that the princess should pierce her hand with a spindle, and die of the wound. the whole company trembled when they heard this terrible prediction, and there was not one among them who did not shed tears. at this moment the young fairy advanced from behind the tapestry, and said, speaking that all might hear,-"comfort yourselves, king and queen; your daughter shall not die of the wound. it is true that i have not sufficient power to undo entirely what my elder has done. the princess will pierce her hand with a spindle, but, instead of dying, she will only fall into a deep sleep, which will last a hundred years, at the end of which time a king's son will come and wake her." the king, in the hope of preventing the misfortune foretold by the old fairy, immediately sent forth a proclamation forbidding everyone, on pain of death, either to spin with a spindle, or to have spindles in their possession. fifteen or sixteen years had passed, when, the king and queen being absent at one of their country houses, it happened that the princess, while running about the castle one day, and up the stairs from one room to the other, came to a little garret at the top of a turret, where an old woman sat alone spinning with distaff and spindle, for this good woman had never heard the king's proclamation forbidding the use of the spindle. "what are you doing there?" asked the princess. "i am spinning, my pretty child," answered the old woman, who did not know who she was. "oh, how pretty it is!" exclaimed the princess. "how do you do it? give it to me, that i may see if i can do it as well." she had no sooner taken hold of the spindle, than, being very hasty, and rather thoughtless, and moreover, the fairies having ordained that it should be so, she pierced her hand with the point of it, and fainted away. the poor old woman was in great distress, and called for help. people came running from all quarters; they threw water in the princess's face, they unlaced her dress, they slapped her hands, they rubbed her temples with queen of hungary's water, but nothing would bring her to. the king, who had run upstairs at the noise, then remembered the prediction of the fairies, and wisely concluded that this accident must have happened as the fairies had said it would. he ordered the princess to be carried into a beautiful room of the palace, and laid on a bed embroidered with silver and gold. one might have thought it was an angel lying there, so lovely did she look, for the rich colours of her complexion had not faded in her swoon; her cheeks were still rosy, and her lips like coral. only, her eyes were closed, but they could hear her breathing softly, which showed that she was not dead. the king gave orders that she was to be left to sleep there in quiet, until the hour of her awaking should arrive. the good fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a hundred years, was in the kingdom of mataquin, twelve thousand leagues away, when the princess met with her accident, but she was informed of it instantly by a little dwarf, who had a pair of seven-league boots, that is, boots which enabled the wearer to take seven leagues at a stride. [illustration: "_she fell into a swoon._" _the sleeping beauty_] the fairy set out immediately, and an hour afterwards she was seen arriving in a chariot of fire, drawn by dragons. the king advanced to hand her out of the chariot. she approved of all he had done, but being gifted with great foresight, she bethought her that the princess would feel very lost and bewildered on awaking and finding herself all alone in the old castle; so this is what the fairy did. with her wand she touched everybody who was in the castle, except the king and queen: governesses, maids of honour, women of the bed-chamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, boys, guards, porters, pages, footmen; she also touched the horses that were in the stables with their grooms, the great mastiffs in the courtyard, and little fluff, the pet dog of the princess, that was on the bed beside her. as soon as she had touched them, they all fell asleep, not to wake again until the hour arrived for their mistress to do so, in order that they should all be ready to attend upon her as soon as she should want them. even the spits before the fire, hung with partridges and pheasants, and the very fire itself, went to sleep. all this was done in a moment, for fairies never lost much time over their work. the king and queen now kissed their dear daughter, who still slept on, quitted the castle, and issued a proclamation forbidding any person, whosoever, to approach it. these orders were unnecessary, for in a quarter of an hour there grew up around the park such a number of trees, large and small, of brambles and thorns interlacing each other, that neither man nor beast could have got through them, and nothing could be now seen of the castle but the tops of the turrets, and they only from a considerable distance. nobody doubted that this also was some of the fairy's handiwork, in order that the princess might be protected from the curiosity of strangers during her long slumber. when the hundred years had passed away, the son of the king at that time upon the throne, and who was of a different family to that of the sleeping princess, having been hunting in the neighbourhood, inquired what towers they were that he saw above the trees of a very thick wood. each person answered him according to the story he had heard. some said it was an old castle, haunted by ghosts; others, that all the witches of the country held their midnight revels there. the more general opinion, however, was that it was the abode of an ogre, and that he carried thither all the children he could catch, in order to eat them at his leisure, and without being pursued, he alone having the power of making his way through the wood. the prince did not know what to believe of all this, when an old peasant spoke in his turn, and said to him, "prince, it is more than fifty years ago since i heard my father say, that there was in that castle the most beautiful princess that was ever seen; that she was to sleep for a hundred years, and would be awakened by a king's son, for whom she was intended and was waiting." the young prince, at these words, felt himself all on fire. he had not a moment's doubt that he was the one chosen to accomplish this famous adventure, and urged to the deed by love and glory, he resolved, without delay, to see what would come of it. scarcely had he approached the wood, when all those great trees, all those brambles and thorns, made way for him to pass of their own accord. he walked towards the castle, which he saw at the end of a long avenue he had entered, and he was somewhat surprised to find that none of his people had been able to follow him, the trees having closed up again as soon as he had passed. nevertheless, he continued to advance; a young prince, inspired by love, is always courageous. he came to a large fore-court, where everything he saw might well have frozen his blood with terror. a frightful silence reigned around; death seemed everywhere present; on every side, nothing to be seen but the bodies of men and animals stretched out, apparently lifeless. he soon discovered, however, by the shining noses and red faces of the porters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, in which still remained a few drops of wine, sufficiently proved that they had dozed off whilst drinking. he next passed through a large courtyard paved with marble, ascended the staircase, and entered the guard-room, where the guards stood, drawn up in line, their carbines shouldered, and snoring their loudest. he traversed several rooms with ladies and gentlemen all asleep, some standing, others seated. at last he came to one covered with gold, and there on a bed, the curtains of which were open on either side, he saw the most lovely sight he had ever looked upon--a princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, and whose dazzling beauty shone with a radiance which scarcely seemed to belong to this world. he approached, trembling and admiring, and knelt down beside her. at that moment, the enchantment being ended, the princess awoke, and gazing at him for the first time with unexpected tenderness, "is it you, prince?" she said; "i have waited long for you to come." the prince, delighted at these words, and still more by the tone in which they were uttered, knew not how to express his joy and gratitude. he assured her that he loved her better than himself. his words were rather confused, but she was all the more pleased with them; there was little eloquence, but a great deal of love. he was much more embarrassed than she was, which is not to be wondered at. she had had time to think over what she should say to him, for there is reason to believe, although history does not mention it, that during her long, long sleep, the good fairy had let her enjoy very pleasant dreams. in short, they talked for four hours without having said half what they had to say to each other. in the meanwhile, all the palace had been roused at the same time as the princess. everybody remembered his or her duty, and, as they were not all in love, they were dying with hunger. the lady-in-waiting, as hungry as any of them, became impatient, and announced loudly to the princess that the meat was on the table. the prince assisted the princess to rise; she was fully dressed, and most magnificently, but he was careful not to tell her that she was dressed like his grandmother, and wore a stand-up collar, for, in spite of this, she was not a whit less beautiful. they passed into a hall of mirrors, where they supped, waited upon by the officers of the princess. the violins and hautboys played old but charming pieces of music, notwithstanding that it was a hundred years since they had been performed by anybody, and after supper, without loss of time, the grand almoner married the royal lovers in the chapel of the castle. early next morning the prince returned to the city, where he knew his father would be in anxiety about him. the prince told him that he had lost his way in the forest whilst hunting, and that he had slept in the hut of a woodcutter, who had given him black bread and cheese to eat. the king, his father, who was a simple-minded man, believed him, but his mother was not so easily satisfied. she noticed that he went hunting nearly every day, and had always some story ready as an excuse, when he had slept two or three nights away from home, and so she felt quite sure that he had a lady-love. more than two years went by and the princess had two children, the first, which was a girl, was named aurora, and the second, a son, was called day, because he was still more beautiful than his sister. the queen, hoping to find out the truth from her son, often said to him that he ought to form some attachment, but he never dared to trust her with his secret. although he loved her, he feared her, for she was of the race of ogres, and the king had only married her on account of her great riches. it was even whispered about the court that she had the inclinations of an ogress, and that when she saw little children passing, it was with the greatest difficulty that she restrained herself from pouncing upon them. the prince, therefore, would never say one word to her about his affairs. on the death of the king, however, which took place two years later, the prince, being now his own master, made a public declaration of his marriage, and went in great state to bring the queen, his wife, to the palace. she made a magnificent entry into the capital, with her two children, one on either side of her. sometime afterwards, the king went to war with his neighbour, the emperor cantalabute. he left the queen, his mother, regent of the kingdom, earnestly recommending to her care his wife and children. he was likely to be all summer in the field, and he had no sooner left than the queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law and the children to a country house in the wood, so that she might more easily gratify her horrible longing. she followed them thither a few days after, and one evening said to her head cook, "i will eat little aurora for dinner to-morrow." "ah, madam!" exclaimed the cook. "i will," said the queen, and she said it in the voice of an ogress longing to eat fresh meat; "and i will have her served with my favourite sauce." the poor man, seeing plainly that an ogress was not to be trifled with, took his great knife and went up to little aurora's room. she was then about four years old, and came jumping and laughing to throw her arms about his neck, and ask him for sweetmeats. he burst into tears, and the knife fell from his hands; then he went down again and into the farmyard, and there killed a little lamb which he served up with so delicious a sauce, that his mistress assured him she had never eaten anything so excellent. in the meanwhile, he had carried off little aurora, and given her to his wife, that she might hide her in the lodging which she occupied at the further end of the farmyard. a week later, the wicked queen said to her head cook, "i will eat little day for supper." he made no reply, having decided in his own mind to deceive her as before. he went in search of little day, and found him with a tiny foil in his hand, fencing with a great monkey, though he was only three years old. he carried the child to his wife, who hid him where she had hidden his sister, and then cooked a very tender little kid in the place of little day, which the ogress thought wonderfully good. all had gone well enough so far, but one evening this wicked queen said to the head cook, "i should like to eat the queen with the same sauce that i had with the children." then the poor cook was indeed in despair, for he did not know how he should be able to deceive her. the young queen was over twenty years of age, without counting the hundred years she had slept, and no longer such tender food, although her skin was still white and beautiful, and where among all his animals should he find one old enough to take her place? he resolved at last that, to save his own life, he would kill the queen, and he went up to her room, determined to carry out his purpose without delay. he worked himself up into a passion, and entered the young queen's room, dagger in hand. he did not wish, however, to take her by surprise, and so he repeated to her, very respectfully, the order he had received from the queen-mother. "do your duty," she said, stretching out her neck to him; "obey the orders that have been given you. i shall again see my children, my poor children, whom i loved so dearly," for she had thought them dead, ever since they had been carried away from her without a word of explanation. "no, no, madam!" replied the poor cook, touched to the quick, "you shall not die, and you shall see your children again, but it will be in my own house, where i have hidden them; i will again deceive the queen-mother by serving up to her a young hind in your stead." he led her forthwith to his own apartments, then, leaving her to embrace her children and weep with them, he went and prepared a hind, which the queen ate at her supper with as much appetite as if it had been the young queen. she exulted in her cruelty, and intended to tell the king, on his return, that some ferocious wolves had devoured the queen, his wife, and her two children. one evening, while she was prowling, as usual, round the courts and poultry-yards of the castle, to inhale the smell of fresh meat, she overheard little day crying in one of the lower rooms, because the queen, his mother, was about to whip him for being naughty, and she also heard little aurora begging forgiveness for her brother. the ogress recognised the voices of the queen and her children, and, furious at having been deceived, she gave orders, in a voice that made everybody tremble, that the next morning early there should be brought into the middle of the court a large copper, which she had filled with toads, vipers, adders, and serpents, in order to throw into it the queen and her children, the head cook, his wife, and his maid-servant. she further commanded that they should be brought thither with their hands tied behind them. there they stood, and the executioners were preparing to fling them into the copper, when the king, who was not expected back so soon, entered the courtyard on horseback. he had ridden post-haste, and in great astonishment asked what was the meaning of this horrible spectacle? no one dared tell him, when the ogress, enraged at what she saw, flung herself head foremost into the copper, where she was instantly devoured by the horrid reptiles, with which she had herself caused it to be filled. the king could not help being sorry for it; she was his mother; but he quickly consoled himself with his beautiful wife and children. some time for a husband to wait who is young, handsome, wealthy and tender, may not be a hardship too great for a maid whom love happy would render. but to be for a century bound to live single, i fancy the number of beauties but small would be found so long who could patiently slumber. to lovers who hate time to waste, and minutes as centuries measure, i would hint, those who marry in haste may live to repent it at leisure yet so ardently onwards they press, and on prudence so gallantly trample, that i haven't the heart, i confess, to urge on them beauty's example. little red riding-hood there was once upon a time a little village girl, the prettiest ever seen or known, of whom her mother was dotingly fond. her grandmother was even fonder of her still, and had a little red hood made for the child, which suited her so well, that wherever she went, she was known by the name of little red riding-hood. one day, her mother having baked some cakes, said to her, "go and see how your grandmother is getting on, for i have been told she is ill; take her a cake and this little jar of butter." whereupon little red riding-hood started off without delay towards the village in which her grandmother lived. on her way she had to pass through a wood, and there she met that sly old fellow, mr wolf, who felt that he should very much like to eat her up on the spot, but was afraid to do so, as there were woodcutters at hand in the forest. he asked her which way she was going, and the poor child, not knowing how dangerous it is to stop and listen to a wolf, answered, "i am going to see my grandmother, and am taking a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent her." "does she live far from here?" asked the wolf. "oh, yes!" replied little red riding-hood, "on the further side of the mill that you see down there; hers is the first house in the village." "well, i was thinking of going to visit her myself," rejoined the wolf, "so i will take this path, and you take the other, and we will see which of us gets there first." the wolf then began running off as fast as he could along the shorter way, which he had chosen, while the little girl went by the longer way, and amused herself with stopping to gather nuts, or run after butterflies, and with making little nosegays of all the flowers she could find. it did not take the wolf long to reach the grandmother's house; he knocked: tap, tap. "who is there?" "it is your grand-daughter, little red riding-hood," answered the wolf, imitating the child's voice. "i have brought a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent you." the good grandmother, who was ill in bed, called out, "pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." the wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. he leaped on to the poor old woman, and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been three days without food. he then shut the door again, and laid himself down in the grandmother's bed, to wait for little red riding-hood. presently she came and knocked at the door: tap, tap. [illustration: '_grandma, what great ears you have!_' _little red riding-hood_] "who is there?" little red riding-hood was frightened at first, on hearing the wolf's gruff voice, but thinking that her grandmother had a cold, she answered,-"it is your grand-daughter, little red riding-hood. i have brought a cake and a little jar of butter, which my mother has sent you." the wolf called out, this time in rather a softer voice, "pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up." little red riding-hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. when the wolf saw her come in, he hid himself under the bedclothes, and said to her, "put the cake and the little jar of butter in the cupboard, and come into bed with me." little red riding-hood undressed, and went to the bedside, and was very much astonished to see how different her grandmother looked to what she did when she was up and dressed. "grandmother," she exclaimed, "what long arms you have!" "all the better to embrace you with, my little girl." "grandmother, what long legs you have!" "all the better to run with, child." "grandmother, what long ears you have!" "all the better to hear with, child." "grandmother, what large eyes you have!" "all the better to see with, child." "grandmother, what large teeth you have!" "all the better to eat you with!" and saying these words, the wicked wolf sprang out upon little red riding-hood, and ate her up. moral now, children, take warning, and chiefly, i pray, you maidens so gentle and fair, when you come across all kinds of folk, have a care not to listen to what they may say; for it can't be thought strange if you do, should the wolf choose to eat up a few. _the_ wolf, i say here, for you'll find wolves are many, and vary in kind; there are some, easy-mannered and tame, without malice, or temper, the same, most obliging and sweet in their way, like to follow their tender young prey, and will track them right into their homes--lack-a-day! who among us has not learnt by this time to know, the most dangerous of wolves is the soft, smooth-tongued foe! blue beard once upon a time there was a man who had fine houses in town and country, gold and silver plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilt all over; but, unfortunately, this man had a blue beard, which made him look so ugly and terrible, that there was not a woman or girl who did not run away from him. one of his neighbours, a lady of rank, had two daughters, who were perfectly beautiful. he proposed to marry one of them, leaving the mother to choose which of the two she would give him. neither of the daughters, however, would have him, and they sent him from one to the other, each being unable to make up her mind to marry a man with a blue beard. a further reason which they had for disliking him was, that he had already been married several times, and nobody knew what had become of his wives. blue beard, in order to improve the acquaintance, took the girls with their mother, three or four of their most intimate friends, and some other young people who resided in the neighbourhood, to one of his country seats, where they spent an entire week. nothing was thought of but excursions, hunting and fishing-parties, balls, entertainments, suppers; nobody went to bed; the whole night was passed in games and playing merry tricks on one another. in short, all went off so well, that the youngest daughter began to think that the beard of the master of the house was not so blue as it used to be, and that he was a very worthy man. immediately upon their return to town the marriage took place. at the end of a month, blue beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a journey, which would keep him away from home for six weeks at least, as he had business of great importance to attend to. he begged her to amuse herself as well as she could during his absence, to invite her best friends, and, if she liked, take them into the country, and wherever she was, to have the best of everything for the table. "here," said he to her, "are the keys of my two large store-rooms; these are those of the chests in which the gold and silver plate, not in general use, is kept; these are the keys of the strong boxes in which i keep my money; these open the caskets that contain my jewels, and this is the master-key of all the rooms. as for this little key, it is that of the closet at the end of the long gallery on the ground floor. open everything, and go everywhere except into that little closet, which i forbid you to enter, and i forbid you so strictly, that if you should venture to open the door, there is nothing that you may not have to dread from my anger!" she promised to obey his orders to the letter, and, after having embraced her, he got into his coach and set out on his journey. the friends and neighbours of the young bride did not wait for her invitation, so eager were they to see all the rich treasures in the house, and not having ventured to visit her while her husband was at home, so frightened were they at his blue beard. they were soon to be seen running through all the rooms, and into the closets and wardrobes, each one more beautiful and splendid than the last. then they went upstairs to the store-rooms; there they could not sufficiently express their admiration at the number and beauty of the hangings, the beds, the sofas, the cabinets, the elegant little stands, the tables, the mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot, framed some with glass, some with silver, some with gilt metal, all of a costliness beyond what had ever before been seen. they never ceased enlarging upon, and envying, the good fortune of their friend, who, meanwhile, took no pleasure in the sight of all these treasures, so great was her longing to go and open the door of the closet on the ground floor. her curiosity at last reached such a pitch that, without stopping to consider how rude it was to leave her guests, she ran down a little back staircase leading to the closet, and in such haste that she nearly broke her neck two or three times before she reached the bottom. at the door of the closet she paused for a moment, calling to mind her husband's prohibition, and reflecting that some trouble might fall upon her for her disobedience; but the temptation was so strong that she could not resist it. so she took the little key, and with a trembling hand opened the door of the closet. at first she could distinguish nothing, for the windows were closed; in a few minutes, however, she began to see that the floor was covered with blood, in which was reflected the bodies of several dead women hanging on the walls. these were all the wives of blue beard, who had killed them one after another. she was ready to die with fright, and the key, which she had taken out of the lock, fell from her hand. after recovering her senses a little, she picked up the key, locked the door again, and went up to her room to try and compose herself; but she found it impossible to quiet her agitation. she now perceived that the key of the closet was stained with blood; she wiped it two or three times, but the blood would not come off. in vain she washed it, and even scrubbed it with sand and free-stone, the stain was still there, for the key was an enchanted one, and there were no means of cleaning it completely; when the blood was washed off one side, it came back on the other. blue beard returned that very evening, and said that he had received letters on the road, telling him that the business on which he was going had been settled to his advantage. his wife did all she could to make him believe that she was delighted at his speedy return. the next morning he asked her for his keys again; she gave them to him; but her hand trembled so, that he had not much difficulty in guessing what had happened. "how comes it," said he, "that the key of the closet is not with the others?" "i must have left it," she replied, "upstairs on my table." "fail not," said blue beard, "to give it me presently." after several excuses, she was obliged to go and fetch the key. blue beard having examined it, said to his wife, "why is there blood on this key?" "i don't know," answered the poor wife, paler than death. "you don't know!" rejoined blue beard; "i know well enough. you must needs go into the closet. well, madam, you shall go in again, and take your place among the ladies you saw there." she flung herself at her husband's feet, weeping and begging his pardon, with all the signs of a true repentance at having disobeyed him. her beauty and sorrow might have melted a rock, but blue beard had a heart harder than rock. "you must die, madam," said he, "and at once." "if i must die," she replied, looking at him with streaming eyes, "give me a little time to say my prayers." "i give you half a quarter of an hour," answered blue beard, "not a minute more." as soon as she found herself alone, she called her sister, and said to her, "sister anne"--for so she was named--"go up, i pray you, to the top of the tower, and see if my brothers are not in sight. they promised they would come to visit me to-day, and if you see them, sign to them to make haste." sister anne mounted to the top of the tower, and the poor unhappy wife called to her from time to time, "anne! sister anne! do you not see anything coming?" and sister anne answered her, "i see nothing but the dust turning gold in the sun, and the grass growing green." meanwhile, blue beard, with a large cutlass in his hand, called out with all his might to his wife, "come down quickly, or i shall come up there." "one minute more, if you please," replied his wife; and then said quickly in a low voice, "anne! sister anne! do you not see anything coming?" and sister anne answered, "i see nothing but the dust turning gold in the sun, and the grass growing green." "come down quickly," roared blue beard, "or i shall come up there." "i am coming," answered his wife; and then called "anne! sister anne! do you not see anything coming?" "i see a great cloud of dust moving this way," said sister anne. "is it my brothers?" "alas! no, sister, only a flock of sheep." "will you not come down?" shouted blue beard. "one minute more," replied his wife; and then she cried, "anne! sister anne! do you not see anything coming?" "i see two horsemen coming this way," she replied, "but they are still a great distance off. heaven be praised!" she exclaimed a moment afterwards. "they are my brothers! i am making all the signs i can to hasten them." [illustration: _"your tears are useless" said bluebeard, "you must die!"_ _bluebeard._] blue beard began to roar so loudly that the whole house shook again. the poor wife went down and threw herself at his feet with weeping eyes and dishevelled hair. "it is of no use," said blue beard; "you must die!" then, taking her by the hair with one hand, and raising the cutlass with the other, he was about to cut off her head. the poor wife, turning towards him her dying eyes, begged him to give her one short moment to collect herself. "no, no," said he; "commend yourself to heaven," and, lifting his arm.... at this moment there was such a loud knocking at the gate that blue beard stopped short. it was opened, and two horsemen were immediately seen to enter, who, drawing their swords, ran straight at blue beard. he recognised them as the brothers of his wife, one a dragoon, the other a musketeer, and he therefore fled at once, hoping to escape; but they pursued him so closely that they overtook him before he could reach the steps to his door, and, running their swords through his body, left him dead on the spot. the poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength to rise and embrace her brothers. it was found that blue beard had left no heirs, and so his widow came into possession of all his property. she employed part of it in marrying her sister anne to a man who had long loved her; another part in buying captains' commissions for her two brothers; and with the remainder she married herself to a very worthy man, who made her forget the dreadful time she had passed with blue beard. provided one has common sense, and of the world but knows the ways, this story bears the evidence of being one of bygone days. no husband now is so terrific, impossibilities expecting: though jealous, he is still pacific, indifference to his wife affecting. and of his beard, whate'er the hue, his spouse need fear no such disaster; indeed, 'twould often puzzle you to say which of the twain is master. master cat; or, puss in boots a miller bequeathed to his three sons all he possessed of worldly goods, which consisted only of his mill, his ass, and his cat. it did not take long to divide the property, and neither notary nor attorney was called in; they would soon have eaten up the poor little patrimony. the eldest son had the mill; the second son, the ass; and the youngest had nothing but the cat. the latter was very disconsolate at having such a poor share of the inheritance. "my brothers," said he, "may be able to earn an honest livelihood by entering into partnership; but, as for me, when i have eaten my cat and made a muff of his skin, i must die of hunger." the cat, who had heard this speech, although he had not appeared to do so, said to him with a sedate and serious air, "do not be troubled, master; you have only to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me in which i can go among the bushes, and you will see that you are not left so badly off as you believe." though his master did not place much reliance on the cat's words, he had seen him play such cunning tricks in catching rats and mice, when he would hang himself up by the heels, or hide in the flour pretending to be dead, that he was not altogether without hope of being helped by him out of his distress. as soon as the cat had what he asked for, he boldly pulled on his boots, and, hanging his bag round his neck, he took the strings of it in his fore-paws, and started off for a warren where there were a great number of rabbits. he put some bran and sow-thistles in his bag, and then, stretching himself out as if he were dead, he waited till some young rabbit, little versed in the wiles of the world, should come and poke his way into the bag, in order to eat what was inside it. he had hardly laid himself down before he had the pleasure of seeing a young scatterbrain of a rabbit get into the bag, whereupon master cat pulled the strings, caught it, and killed it without mercy. proud of his prey, he went to the palace, and asked to speak to the king. he was ushered upstairs and into the state apartment, and, after making a low bow to the king, he said, "sire, here is a wild rabbit, which my lord the marquis of carabas--for such was the title he had taken a fancy to give to his master--has ordered me to present, with his duty, to your majesty." "tell your master," replied the king, "that i thank him and am pleased with his gift." another day he went and hid himself in the wheat, keeping the mouth of his bag open as before, and as soon as he saw that a brace of partridges had run inside, he pulled the strings, and so took them both. he went immediately and presented them to the king, as he had the rabbits. the king was equally grateful at receiving the brace of partridges, and ordered drink to be given him. for the next two or three months, the cat continued in this manner, taking presents of game at intervals to the king, as if from his master. one day, when he knew the king was going to drive on the banks of the river, with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master, "if you will follow my advice, your fortune is made; you have only to go and bathe in a part of the river i will point out to you, and then leave the rest to me." the marquis of carabas did as his cat advised him, without knowing what good would come of it. while he was bathing, the king passed by, and the cat began to call out with all his might, "help! help! my lord the marquis of carabas is drowning!" hearing the cry, the king looked out of the coach window, and recognising the cat who had so often brought him game, he ordered his guards to fly to the help of my lord the marquis of carabas. whilst they were getting the poor marquis out of the river, the cat went up to the royal coach, and told the king that, while his master had been bathing, some robbers had come and carried off his clothes, although he had shouted, "stop thief," as loud as he could. the rogue had hidden them himself under a large stone. the king immediately ordered the officers of his wardrobe to go and fetch one of his handsomest suits for my lord the marquis of carabas. the king embraced him a thousand times, and as the fine clothes they dressed him in set off his good looks--for he was handsome and well made--the marquis of carabas quite took the fancy of the king's daughter, and after he had cast two or three respectful and rather tender glances towards her, she fell very much in love with him. the king insisted upon his getting into the coach, and accompanying them in their drive. the cat, delighted to see that his plans were beginning to succeed, ran on before, and coming across some peasants who were mowing a meadow, he said to them, "you, good people, who are mowing here, if you do not tell the king that this meadow you are mowing belongs to my lord the marquis of carabas, you shall all be cut in pieces as small as minced meat." the king did not fail to ask the peasants whose meadow it was they were mowing. "it belongs to my lord the marquis of carabas," said they all together, for the cat's threat had frightened them. "you have a fine property there," said the king to the marquis of carabas. "as you say, sire," responded the marquis of carabas, "for it is a meadow which yields an abundant crop every year." master cat, who still kept in advance of the party, came up to some reapers, and said to them, "you, good people, who are reaping, if you do not say that all this corn belongs to my lord the marquis of carabas, you shall all be cut into pieces as small as minced meat." [illustration: _puss among the reapers._] the king, who passed by a minute afterwards, wished to know to whom belonged all the cornfields he saw. "to my lord the marquis of carabas," repeated the reapers, and the king again congratulated the marquis on his property. the cat, still continuing to run before the coach, uttered the same threat to everyone he met, and the king was astonished at the great wealth of my lord the marquis of carabas. master cat at length arrived at a fine castle, the owner of which was an ogre, the richest ogre ever known, for all the lands through which the king had driven belonged to the lord of this castle. the cat took care to find out who the ogre was, and what he was able to do; then he asked to speak with him, saying that he did not like to pass so near his castle without doing himself the honour of paying his respects to him. the ogre received him as civilly as an ogre can, and made him sit down. "i have been told," said the cat, "that you have the power of changing yourself into all kinds of animals; that you could, for instance, transform yourself into a lion or an elephant." "'tis true," said the ogre, abruptly, "and to prove it to you, you shall see me become a lion." the cat was so frightened when he saw a lion in front of him, that he quickly scrambled up into the gutter, not without difficulty and danger, on account of his boots, which were worse than useless for walking on the tiles. shortly afterwards, seeing that the ogre had resumed his natural form, the cat climbed down again, and admitted that he had been terribly frightened. "i have also been assured," said the cat, "but i cannot believe it, that you have the power besides of taking the form of the smallest animal; for instance, that of a rat, or a mouse; i confess to you i hold this to be utterly impossible." "impossible!" exclaimed the ogre, "you shall see!" and he immediately changed himself into a mouse, and began running about the floor. the cat no sooner caught sight of it, than he pounced upon it and ate it. in the meanwhile, the king, seeing the fine castle of the ogre as he was driving past, thought he should like to go inside. the cat, who heard the noise of the coach rolling over the draw-bridge, ran to meet it, and said to the king, "your majesty is welcome to the castle of my lord the marquis of carabas!" "how, my lord marquis," exclaimed the king, "this castle belongs to you? nothing could be finer than this courtyard, and all these buildings which surround it. let us see the inside of it, if you please." the marquis handed out the young princess, and following the king, who led the way upstairs, they entered a grand hall, where they found prepared a magnificent repast, which the ogre had ordered in expectation of some friends, who were to have visited him that very day, but who did not venture to enter when they heard the king was there. the king, as greatly delighted with the excellent qualities of my lord the marquis of carabas as his daughter, who was more than ever in love with him, seeing what great wealth he possessed, said to him, after having drunk five or six bumpers, "it depends entirely on yourself, my lord marquis, whether or not you become my son-in-law." the marquis, making several profound bows, accepted the honour the king offered him, and that same day was married to the princess. the cat became a great lord, and never again ran after mice, except for his amusement. be the advantage never so great of owning a superb estate, from sire to son descended, young men oft find, on industry, combined with ingenuity, they'd better have depended. * * * * * if the son of a miller so quickly could gain the heart of a princess, it seems pretty plain, with good looks and good manners, and some aid from dress, the humblest need not quite despair of success. the fairies there was once a widow who had two daughters. the elder was so like her mother in temper and face, that to have seen the one was to have seen the other. they were both so disagreeable and proud, that it was impossible to live with them. the younger, who was the exact portrait of her father in her kindly and polite ways, was also as beautiful a girl as one could see. as we are naturally fond of those who resemble us, the mother doted on her elder daughter, while for the younger she had a most violent aversion, and made her take her meals in the kitchen and work hard all day. among other things that she was obliged to do, this poor child was forced to go twice a day to fetch water from a place a mile or more from the house, and carry back a large jug filled to the brim. as she was standing one day by this spring, a poor woman came up to her, and asked the girl to give her some water to drink. "certainly, my good woman," she replied, and the beautiful girl at once stooped and rinsed out the jug, and then, filling it with water from the clearest part of the spring, she held it up to the woman, continuing to support the jug, that she might drink with greater comfort. having drunk, the woman said to her, "you are so beautiful, so good and kind, that i cannot refrain from conferring a gift upon you," for she was really a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the girl's kind-heartedness would go. "this gift i make you," continued the fairy, "that with every word you speak, either a flower or a precious stone will fall from your mouth." the girl had no sooner reached home than her mother began scolding her for being back so late. "i am sorry, mother," said she, "to have been out so long," and as she spoke, there fell from her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds. the mother gazed at her in astonishment. "what do i see!" she exclaimed, "pearls and diamonds seem to be dropping from her mouth! how is this, my daughter?"--it was the first time she had called her _daughter_. the poor child related in all simplicity what had happened, letting fall quantities of diamonds in the course of her narrative. "i must certainly send my other daughter there," said the mother. "look, fanchon, see what falls from your sister's mouth when she speaks! would you not be glad to receive a similar gift? all you have to do, is to go and fetch water from the spring, and if an old woman asks you for some to drink, to give it her nicely and politely." "i should like to see myself going to the spring," answered the rude, cross girl. "i insist on your going," rejoined the mother, "and that at once." [illustration: '_she gave it to the woman._'] the elder girl went off, still grumbling; with her she took the handsomest silver bottle she could find in the house. she had no sooner arrived at the spring, than she saw a lady magnificently dressed walking towards her from the wood, who approached and asked for some water to drink. it was the same fairy who had appeared to the sister, but she had now put on the airs and apparel of a princess, as she wished to see how far this girl's rudeness would go. "do you think i came here just to draw water for you?" answered the arrogant and unmannerly girl; "i have, of course, brought this silver bottle on purpose for madam to drink from! well, all i have to say is--drink from it if you like." "you are scarcely polite," said the fairy, without losing her temper; "however, as you are so disobliging, i confer this gift upon you, that with every word you speak, a snake or a toad shall fall from your mouth." directly her mother caught sight of her, she called out, "well, my daughter!" "well, my mother!" replied the ill-tempered girl, throwing out as she spoke two vipers and two toads. "alack!" cried the mother, "what do i see? this is her sister's doing, but i will pay her out for it," and, so saying, she ran towards the younger girl with intent to beat her. the unhappy girl fled from the house, and went and hid herself in a neighbouring forest. the king's son, who was returning from hunting, met her, and seeing how beautiful she was, asked her what she was doing there all alone, and why she was crying. "alas! sir, my mother has driven me from home." the king's son, seeing five or six pearls and as many diamonds, falling from her mouth as she spoke, asked her to explain how this was, and she told him all her tale. the king's son fell in love with her, and thinking that such a gift as she possessed was worth more than any ordinary dower brought by another, he carried her off to his father's palace, and there married her. as for her sister, she made herself so hated, that her own mother drove her from the house. the miserable girl, having gone about in vain trying to find someone who would take her in, crept away into the corner of a wood, and there died. of higher worth are gentle words than diamonds or gold, and even o'er the minds of men a great power they hold. * * * * * it costs some pains to be polite, and needs some kindly thought, but soon or late, as here you see, reward will come unsought. cinderella; or, the little glass slipper once upon a time there was a nobleman, who took for a second wife the haughtiest and proudest woman that had ever been seen. she had two daughters of the same temper, and who resembled her in everything. the husband, on his side, had a daughter, of unexampled gentleness and goodness. she inherited these qualities from her mother, who had been the best creature in the world. the wedding was hardly over before the stepmother's ill-humour broke out. she could not endure the young girl, whose good qualities made her own daughters appear still more detestable. she put her to do all the most menial work in the house. it was she who washed up the plates and dishes, and cleaned the stairs; who scrubbed the stepmother's room, and those of her daughters. she slept in a garret at the top of the house, on a wretched straw mattress, while her sisters occupied rooms with inlaid floors, and had the latest fashioned beds, and mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot. the poor girl bore everything with patience, and did not dare complain to her father, who would only have scolded her, as he was entirely governed by his wife. when she had done her work, she was in the habit of going into the chimney-corner and sitting down amongst the cinders, which caused her to be nicknamed cindertail by the household in general. the second daughter, however, who was not quite so rude as her sister, called her cinderella. nevertheless, cinderella in her shabby clothes, still looked a thousand times more beautiful than her sisters, although so magnificently dressed. it happened that the king's son gave a ball, to which he invited everyone of position. our two fine ladies were among those who received an invitation, for they made a great show in the neighbourhood. they were now in great delight, and very busy choosing the most becoming gowns and head-dresses. a new mortification for poor cinderella, for it was she who had to iron her sisters' fine linen, and goffer their ruffles. no one talked of anything but of the style in which they were to be dressed. "i," said the eldest, "will wear my red velvet dress, and my english point-lace trimmings." "i," said the youngest, "shall only wear my usual petticoat; but, to make up for that, i shall put on my gold-flowered cloak, and my clasp of diamonds, which are none of the least valuable." they sent for a first-rate milliner, that their caps might be made to fashion, and they bought their patches from the best maker. they called cinderella to give them her opinion, for her taste was excellent. cinderella gave them the best advice in the world, and even offered to dress their hair for them, which they were very willing she should do. whilst she was busy with the hairdressing, they said to her, "cinderella, should you be very glad to go to the ball?" "alas! you only make fun of me; such a thing would not be suitable for me at all." "you are right; they would indeed laugh to see a cindertail at the ball!" any other than cinderella would have dressed their hair awry, but she had a good disposition, and arranged it for both of them to perfection. they could eat nothing for nearly two days, so transported were they with joy. more than a dozen laces were broken in making their waists as small as possible, and they were continually before their looking-glasses. at last the happy day arrived. they set off, and cinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could. when they were out of sight she began to cry. her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter. "i should so like--i should so like--" she sobbed so violently that she could not finish the sentence. "you would so like to go to the ball, is not that it?" "alas! yes," said cinderella, sighing. "well, if you will be a good girl, i will undertake that you shall go." she took her into her room, and said to her, "go into the garden and bring me a pumpkin." cinderella went at once, gathered the finest she could find, and brought it to her godmother, wondering the while how a pumpkin could enable her to go to the ball. her godmother scooped it out, and, having left nothing but the rind, struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was immediately changed into a beautiful coach, gilt all over. she then went and looked into the mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive. she told cinderella to lift the door of the mouse-trap a little, and to each mouse, as it ran out, she gave a tap with her wand, and the mouse was immediately changed into a fine horse, so that at last there stood ready a handsome train of six horses, of a beautiful dappled mouse-grey colour. as she was in some difficulty as to what she could take to turn into a coachman, cinderella said, "i will go and see if there is not a rat in the rat-trap; we will make a coachman of him." "you are right," said her godmother, "go and see." cinderella brought her the rat-trap, in which there were three large rats. the fairy chose one from the three on account of its ample beard, and having touched it, it was changed into a fat coachman, with the finest whiskers that ever were seen. she then said, "go into the garden, and there, behind the watering-pot, you will find six lizards, bring them to me." cinderella had no sooner brought them than the godmother changed them into six footmen, with their liveries all covered with lace, who immediately jumped up behind the coach, and hung on to it as if they had done nothing else all their lives. the fairy then said to cinderella, "well, there is something in which to go to the ball; are you not well pleased?" [illustration: '_the king's son gave her his hand._' _cinderella._] "yes, but am i to go in these dirty old clothes?" her godmother touched her lightly with her wand, and in the same instant her dress was changed into one of gold and silver, covered with precious stones. she then gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the world. when she was thus attired, she got into the coach; but her godmother told her, above all things, not to stay past midnight--warning her, that if she remained at the ball a minute longer, her coach would again become a pumpkin, her horses, mice, her footmen, lizards, and her clothes turn again into her old ones. she promised her godmother that she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight, and drove off, almost out of her mind with joy. the king's son, who was informed that a grand princess had arrived whom nobody knew, ran to receive her. he handed her out of the coach and led her into the hall, where the guests were assembled. there was immediately a dead silence; the dancing stopped, and the fiddlers ceased to play, so engaged did everyone become in gazing upon the wonderful beauty of the unknown lady. nothing was heard but a general murmur of "oh! how lovely she is!" the king himself, old as he was, could not take his eyes from her, and observed to the queen, that it was a long time since he had seen so lovely and amiable a person. all the ladies were intently occupied in examining her head-dress and her clothes, that they might order some like them the very next day, provided that they might be able to find materials as costly, and work-people sufficiently clever to make them up. the king's son conducted her to the most honourable seat, and then led her out to dance. she danced so gracefully that everybody's admiration of her was increased. a very grand supper was served, of which the prince ate not a morsel, so absorbed was he in the contemplation of her beauty. she seated herself beside her sisters, and showed them a thousand civilities. she shared with them the oranges and citrons which the prince had given her, at which they were greatly surprised, for she appeared a perfect stranger to them. while they were thus talking together, cinderella heard the clock strike the three quarters past eleven; she at once made a profound curtsey to the company, and left as quickly as she could. as soon as she had reached home, she went to find her godmother, and after having thanked her, said she much wished to go to the ball again next day, because the king's son had invited her. she was telling her godmother all that had passed at the ball, when the two sisters knocked at the door. cinderella went and opened it. "how late you are!" said she to them, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and then stretching herself as if she had but just awoke, although she had had no inclination to sleep since she parted from them. "if you had been at the ball," said one of her sisters to her, "you would not have been weary of it. there came to it the most beautiful princess--the most beautiful that ever was seen; she paid us many attentions, and gave us oranges and citrons." cinderella was beside herself with delight. she asked them the name of the princess, but they replied that nobody knew her, that the king's son was much puzzled about it, and that he would give everything in the world to know who she was. cinderella smiled, and said, "she was very lovely, then? how fortunate you are! could not i get a sight of her? alas! miss javotte, lend me the yellow gown you wear every day." "truly," said miss javotte, "i like that! lend one's gown to a dirty cindertail like you! i should be mad indeed!" cinderella fully expected this refusal, and was rejoiced at it, for she would not have known what to do if her sister had lent her the gown. the next day the sisters went again to the ball, and cinderella also, but still more splendidly dressed than before. the king's son never left her side, or ceased saying tender things to her. cinderella found the evening pass very pleasantly, and forgot her godmother's warning, so that she heard the clock begin to strike twelve while still thinking that it was not yet eleven. she rose and fled as lightly as a fawn. the prince followed her, but could not overtake her. she dropped one of her glass slippers, which the prince carefully picked up. cinderella reached home almost breathless, without coach or footmen, and in her shabby clothes, with nothing remaining of her finery but one of her little slippers, the fellow of that which she had dropped. the guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not seen a princess pass out; they answered that they had seen no one pass but a poorly-dressed girl, who had more the appearance of a peasant than of a lady. when the two sisters returned from the ball, cinderella asked them if they had been as much entertained as before, and if the beautiful lady had been present. they said yes, but that she had fled as soon as it had struck twelve, and in such haste, that she had dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world; that the king's son had picked it up, and had done nothing but gaze upon it during the remainder of the evening; and that, undoubtedly, he was very much in love with the beautiful person to whom the little slipper belonged. they spoke the truth; for a few days afterwards the king's son caused it to be proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would marry her whose foot would exactly fit the slipper. they began by trying it on the princesses, then on the duchesses, and so on throughout the court; but in vain. it was taken to the two sisters, who did their utmost to force one of their feet into the slipper, but they could not manage to do so. cinderella, who was looking on, and who recognised the slipper, said laughingly, "let me see if it will not fit me." her sisters began to laugh and ridicule her. the gentleman of the court who had been entrusted to try the slipper, having looked attentively at cinderella, and seeing that she was very beautiful, said that it was only fair that her request should be granted, as he had received orders to try the slipper on all maidens, without exception. he made cinderella sit down, and putting the slipper to her little foot, he saw it slip on easily and fit like wax. great was the astonishment of the two sisters, but it was still greater when cinderella took the other little slipper out of her pocket and put it on her other foot. at that moment the godmother appeared, who giving a tap with her wand to cinderella's clothes, they became still more magnificent than those she had worn before. the two sisters then recognised in her the beautiful person they had seen at the ball. they threw themselves at her feet to beg for forgiveness for all the ill-treatment she had suffered from them. cinderella raised and embraced them, said that she forgave them with all her heart, and begged them to love her dearly for the future. she was conducted, dressed as she was, to the young prince. he found her more charming than ever, and a few days afterwards he married her. cinderella, who was as kind as she was beautiful, gave her sisters apartments in the palace, and married them the very same day to two great lords of the court. beauty in woman is a treasure rare which we are never weary of admiring; but a sweet temper is a gift more fair and better worth the youthful maid's desiring. that was the boon bestowed on cinderella by her wise godmother--her truest glory. the rest was "nought but leather and prunella." such is the moral of this little story- beauties, that charm, become you more than dress, and win a heart with far greater facility. in short, in all things to ensure success, the real fairy gift is amiability! * * * * * talent, courage, wit, and worth, are rare gifts to own on earth; but if you want to thrive at court- so, at least, the wise report- you will find you need some others, such as godfathers or mothers. riquet with the tuft once upon a time there was a queen who had a son, so ugly and misshapen, that it was doubted for a long time whether his form was really human. a fairy, who was present at his birth, affirmed, nevertheless, that he would be worthy to be loved, as he would have an excellent wit; she added, moreover, that by virtue of the gift she had bestowed upon him, he would be able to impart equal intelligence to the one whom he loved best. all this was some consolation to the poor queen, who was much distressed at having brought so ugly a little monkey into the world. it is true that the child was no sooner able to speak than he said a thousand pretty things, and that in all his ways there was a certain air of intelligence, with which everyone was charmed. i had forgotten to say that he was born with a little tuft of hair on his head, and so he came to be called riquet with the tuft; for riquet was the family name. about seven or eight years later, the queen of a neighbouring kingdom had two daughters. the elder was fairer than the day, and the queen was so delighted, that it was feared some harm might come to her from her great joy. the same fairy who had assisted at the birth of little riquet, was present upon this occasion, and in order to moderate the joy of the queen, she told her that this little princess would have no gifts of mind at all, and that she would be as stupid as she was beautiful. the queen was greatly mortified on hearing this, but, shortly after, she was even more annoyed, when her second little daughter was born and proved to be extremely ugly. "do not distress yourself, madam," said the fairy to her, "your daughter will find compensation, for she will have so much intelligence, that her lack of beauty will scarcely be perceived." "heaven send it may be so," replied the queen; "but are there no means whereby a little more understanding might be given to the elder, who is so lovely?" "i can do nothing for her in the way of intelligence, madam," said the fairy, "but everything in the way of beauty; as, however, there is nothing in my power i would not do to give you comfort, i will bestow on her the power of conferring beauty on any man or woman who shall please her." as these two princesses grew up, their endowments also became more perfect, and nothing was talked of anywhere but the beauty of the elder, and the intelligence of the younger. it is true that their defects also greatly increased with their years. the younger became uglier every moment, and the elder more stupid every day. she either made no answer when she was spoken to, or else said something foolish. with this she was so clumsy, that she could not even place four pieces of china on a mantelshelf, without breaking one of them, or drink a glass of water, without spilling half of it on her dress. notwithstanding the attraction of beauty, the younger, in whatever society they might be, nearly always bore away the palm from her sister. at first everyone went up to the more beautiful, to gaze at and admire her; but they soon left her for the cleverer one, to listen to her many pleasant and amusing sayings; and people were astonished to find that in less than a quarter of an hour, the elder had not a soul near her, while all the company had gathered round the younger. the elder, though very stupid, noticed this, and would have given, without regret, all her beauty, for half the sense of her sister. discreet as she was, the queen could not help often reproaching her with her stupidity, which made the poor princess ready to die of grief. one day, when she had gone by herself into a wood, to weep over her misfortune, she saw approaching her, a little man of very ugly and unpleasant appearance, but magnificently dressed. it was the young prince riquet with the tuft, who, having fallen in love with her from seeing her portraits, which were sent all over the world, had left his father's kingdom that he might have the pleasure of beholding her and speaking to her. enchanted at meeting her thus alone, he addressed her with all the respect and politeness imaginable. having remarked, after paying her the usual compliments, that she was very melancholy, he said to her, "i cannot understand, madam, how a person so beautiful as you are can be so unhappy as you appear; for, although i can boast of having seen an infinite number of beautiful people, i can say with truth that i have never seen one whose beauty could be compared with yours." "you are pleased to say so, sir," replied the princess, and there she stopped. "beauty," continued riquet, "is so great an advantage, that it ought to take the place of every other, and, possessed of it, i see nothing that can have power to afflict one." "i would rather," said the princess, "be as ugly as you are, and have intelligence, than possess the beauty i do, and be so stupid as i am." "there is no greater proof of intelligence, madam, than the belief that we have it not; it is the nature of that gift, that the more we have, the more we believe ourselves to be without it." "i do not know how that may be," said the princess, "but i know well enough that i am very stupid, and that is the cause of the grief that is killing me." "if that is all that troubles you, madam, i can easily put an end to your sorrow." "and how would you do that?" said the princess. "i have the power, madam," said riquet with the tuft, "to give as much intelligence as it is possible to possess, to the person whom i love best; as you, madam, are that person, it will depend entirely upon yourself, whether or not you become gifted with this amount of intelligence, provided that you are willing to marry me." the princess was struck dumb with astonishment, and replied not a word. "i see," said riquet with the tuft, "that this proposal troubles you, and i am not surprised, but i will give you a full year to consider it." the princess had so little sense, and at the same time was so anxious to have a great deal, that she thought the end of that year would never come; so she at once accepted the offer that was made her. she had no sooner promised riquet with the tuft that she would marry him that day twelve months, than she felt herself quite another person to what she had previously been. she found she was able to say whatever she pleased, with a readiness past belief, and of saying it in a clever, but easy and natural manner. she immediately began a sprightly and well-sustained conversation with riquet with the tuft, and was so brilliant in her talk, that riquet with the tuft began to think he had given her more wit than he had reserved for himself. on her return to the palace, the whole court was puzzled to account for a change so sudden and extraordinary; for the number of foolish things which they had been accustomed to hear from her, she now made as many sensible and exceedingly witty remarks. all the court was in a state of joy not to be described. the younger sister alone was not altogether pleased, for, having lost her superiority over her sister in the way of intelligence, she now only appeared by her side as a very unpleasing-looking person. the king now began to be guided by his elder daughter's advice, and at times even held his council in her apartments. the news of the change of affairs was spread abroad, and all the young princes of the neighbouring kingdoms exerted themselves to gain her affection, and nearly all of them asked her hand in marriage. she found none of them, however, intelligent enough to please her, and she listened to all of them, without engaging herself to one. at length arrived a prince, so rich and powerful, so clever and so handsome, that she could not help listening willingly to his addresses. her father, having perceived this, told her that he left her at perfect liberty to choose a husband for herself, and that she had only to make known her decision. as the more intelligence we possess, the more difficulty we find in making up our mind on such a matter as this, she begged her father, after having thanked him, to allow her time to think about it. she went, by chance, to walk in the same wood in which she had met riquet with the tuft, in order to meditate more uninterruptedly over what she had to do. while she was walking, deep in thought, she heard a dull sound beneath her feet, as of many persons running to and fro, and busily occupied. having listened more attentively, she heard one say, "bring me that saucepan;" another, "give me that kettle;" another, "put some wood on the fire." at the same moment the ground opened, and she saw beneath her what appeared to be a large kitchen, full of cooks, scullions, and all sorts of servants necessary for the preparation of a magnificent banquet. there came forth a band of about twenty to thirty cooks, who went and established themselves in an avenue of the wood, at a very long table, and who, each with the larding-pin in his hand and the tail of his fur cap over his ear, set to work, keeping time to a harmonious song. the princess, astonished at this sight, asked the men for whom they were working. "madam," replied the chief among them, "for prince riquet with the tuft, whose marriage will take place to-morrow." the princess, still more surprised than she was before, and suddenly recollecting that it was just a twelvemonth from the day on which she had promised to marry prince riquet with the tuft, was overcome with trouble and amazement. the reason of her not having remembered her promise was, that when she made it she had been a very foolish person, and when she became gifted with the new mind that the prince had given her, she had forgotten all her follies. she had not taken another thirty steps, when riquet with the tuft presented himself before her, gaily and splendidly attired, like a prince about to be married. "you see, madam," said he, "i keep my word punctually, and i doubt not that you have come thither to keep yours, and to make me, by the giving of your hand, the happiest of men." "i confess to you, frankly," answered the princess, "that i have not yet made up my mind on that matter, and that i do not think i shall ever be able to do so in the way you wish." "you astonish me, madam," said riquet with the tuft. "i have no doubt i do," said the princess; "and assuredly, had i to deal with a stupid person, with a man without intelligence, i should feel greatly perplexed. 'a princess is bound by her word,' he would say to me, 'and you must marry me, as you have promised to do so.' but as the person to whom i speak is, of all men in the world, the one of greatest sense and understanding, i am certain he will listen to reason. you know that, when i was no better than a fool, i nevertheless could not decide to marry you--how can you expect, now that i have the mind which you have given me, and which renders me much more difficult to please than before, that i should take to-day a resolution which i could not then? if you seriously thought of marrying me, you did very wrong to take away my stupidity, and so enable me to see more clearly than i saw then." "if a man without intelligence," replied riquet with the tuft, "who reproached you with your breach of promise, might have a right, as you have just intimated, to be treated with indulgence, why would you, madam, that i should receive less consideration in a matter which affects the entire happiness of my life? is it reasonable that persons of intellect should be in a worse position than those that have none? can you assert this--you who have so much, and who so earnestly desired to possess it? but let us come to the point, if you please. setting aside my ugliness, is there anything in me that displeases you? are you dissatisfied with my birth, my understanding, my temper, or my manners?" "not in the least," replied the princess; "i admire in you everything you have mentioned." [illustration: _then said the princess "i wish that you may be the handsomest prince in the world."_ _riquet with the tuft._] "if that is so," rejoined riquet with the tuft, "i shall soon be happy, as you have it in your power to make me the most pleasing looking of men." "how can that be done?" asked the princess. "it can be done," said riquet with the tuft, "if you love me sufficiently to wish that it should be. and, in order, madam, that you should have no doubt about it, know that the same fairy, who, on the day i was born, endowed me with the power to give intelligence to the person i chose, gave you also the power to render handsome the man you should love, and on whom you should wish to bestow this favour." "if such be the fact," said the princess, "i wish, with all my heart, that you should become the handsomest and most lovable prince in the world, and i bestow the gift on you to the fullest extent in my power." the princess had no sooner pronounced these words than riquet with the tuft appeared to her eyes, of all men in the world, the handsomest, the best made, and most attractive she had ever seen. there are some who assert that it was not the spell of the fairy, but love alone that caused this metamorphosis. they say that the princess, having reflected on the perseverance of her lover, on his prudence, and on all the good qualities of his heart and mind, no longer saw the deformity of his body, or the ugliness of his features; that his hump appeared to her nothing more than a good-natured shrug of his shoulders, and that instead of noticing, as she had done, how badly he limped, she saw in him only a certain lounging air, which charmed her. they say also that his eyes, which squinted, only seemed to her the more brilliant for this; and that the crookedness of his glance was to her merely expressive of his great love; and, finally, that his great red nose had in it, to her mind, something martial and heroic. however this may be, the princess promised on the spot to marry him, provided he obtained the consent of the king, her father. the king, having learned that his daughter entertained a great regard for riquet with the tuft, whom he knew also to be a very clever and wise prince, received him with pleasure as his son-in-law. the wedding took place the next morning, as riquet with the tuft had foreseen, and according to the orders which he had given a long time before. no beauty, no talent, has power above some indefinite charm discern'd only by love. little thumbling once upon a time there was a woodcutter and his wife who had seven children, all boys. the eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. people wondered that the woodcutter had so many children so near in age, but the fact was, that several of them were twins. he and his wife were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, as not one of them was yet able to earn his livelihood. what troubled them still more was, that the youngest was very delicate, and seldom spoke, which they considered a proof of stupidity rather than of good sense. he was very diminutive, and, when first born, scarcely bigger than one's thumb, and so they called him little thumbling. this poor child was the scapegoat of the house, and was blamed for everything that happened. nevertheless, he was the shrewdest and most sensible of all his brothers, and if he spoke little, he listened a great deal. there came a year of bad harvest, and the famine was so severe that these poor people determined to get rid of their children. one evening, when they were all in bed, and the woodcutter was sitting over the fire with his wife, he said to her, with an aching heart, "you see plainly that we can no longer find food for our children. i cannot let them die of hunger before my very eyes, and i have made up my mind to take them to the wood to-morrow, and there lose them, which will be easily done, for whilst they are busy tying up the faggots, we have only to run away unseen by them." "ah!" exclaimed the woodcutter's wife, "can you find the heart to lose your own children?" in vain her husband represented to her their great poverty; she would not consent to the deed. she was poor, but she was their mother. after a while, however, having thought over the misery it would be to her to see them die of hunger, she assented to her husband's proposal, and went weeping to bed. little thumbling had overheard all they said, for having found out, as he lay in his bed, that they were talking of their affairs, he got up quietly and crept under his father's stool, so as to listen to what they were saying without been seen. he went to bed again, but did not sleep a wink the rest of the night, thinking what he should do. he got up early, and went down to the banks of the stream; there he filled his pockets with small white pebbles, and then returned home. they set out all together, and little thumbling said not a word to his brothers of what he had overheard. they entered a very thick forest, wherein, at ten paces distant, they could not see one another. the woodcutter began to cut wood, and the children to pick up brushwood for the faggots. the father and mother, seeing them busy at work, gradually stole farther and farther away from them, and then suddenly ran off down a little winding path. [illustration: '_the boys followed him._'] when the children found themselves all alone, they began to scream and cry with all their might. little thumbling let them scream, well knowing how he could get home again, for on their way to the forest, he had dropped all along the road the little white pebbles he had in his pockets. he then said to them, "have no fear, brothers; my father and mother have left us here, but i will take you safely home; only follow me." they followed him, and he led them back to the house by the same road that they had taken to the forest. they were afraid to go inside at once, but placed themselves close to the door, to listen to what their father and mother were saying. it chanced that just at the moment that the woodcutter and his wife reached home, the lord of the manor sent them ten crowns, which he had owed them a long time, and which they had given up all hope of receiving. this was new life to them, for the poor things were actually starving. the woodcutter immediately sent his wife to the butcher's, and, as it was many a day since they had tasted meat, she bought three times as much as was sufficient for two people's supper. when they had appeased their hunger, the woodcutter's wife said, "alas! where now are our poor children? they would fare merrily on what we have left. but it was you, william, who would lose them. truly did i say we should repent it. what are they now doing in the forest? alas! heaven help me! the wolves have, perhaps, already devoured them. cruel man that you are, thus to have lost your children!" the woodcutter began at last to lose his temper, for she repeated over twenty times that they would repent the deed, and that she had said it would be so. he threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. it was not that the woodcutter was not, perhaps, even more sorry than his wife, but that she made so much noise about it, and that he was like many other people, who are fond of women who say the right thing, but are annoyed by those who are always in the right. the wife was all in tears. "alas! where are now my children, my poor children?" she uttered her cry, at last, so loudly, that the children, who were at the door, heard her, and began to call out all together, "here we are! here we are!" she rushed to the door to open it, and embracing them, exclaimed, "how thankful i am to see you again, my dear children; you are very tired and hungry; and you, little peter, how dirty you are! come here and let me wash you." peter was her eldest son, and she loved him better than all the rest, because he was red-headed, and she was rather red-haired herself. they sat down to supper and ate with an appetite that delighted their father and mother, to whom they related how frightened they had been in the forest, nearly all keeping on speaking at the same time. the good people were overjoyed to see their children around them once more, and their joy lasted as long as the ten crowns. when the money was spent, however, they fell back into their former state of misery, and resolved to lose their children again; and to make quite sure of doing so this time, they determined to lead them much further from home than they had before. they could not talk of this so secretly, but that they were overheard by little thumbling, who reckoned upon being able to get out of the difficulty by the same means as the first time; but though he got up very early to collect the little pebbles, he did not succeed in his object, for he found the house door double locked. he was at his wit's end what to do, when his mother having given each of them a piece of bread for their breakfast, it occurred to him that he might make the bread take the place of the pebbles, by strewing crumbs along the path as they went, and so he put his piece in his pocket. the father and mother led them into the thickest and darkest part of the forest, and as soon as they had done so, they turned into a bypath, and left them there. little thumbling did not trouble himself much, for he believed he could easily find his way back by help of the crumbs which he had scattered wherever he had passed; but he was greatly surprised to find not a single crumb left--the birds had come and picked them all up. the poor children were now, indeed, in great distress; the further they wandered, the deeper they plunged into the forest. night came on, and a great wind arose, which filled them with terror. they fancied they heard nothing on every side but the howling of wolves, running towards them to devour them. they scarcely dared to speak or look behind them. then there came a heavy rain, which drenched them to the skin; they slipped at every step, tumbling into the mud, out of which they scrambled covered with dirt, not knowing what to do with their hands. little thumbling climbed up a tree to try if he could see anything from the top of it. having looked about on all sides, he saw a little light, like that of a candle, but it was a long way off, on the other side of the forest. he came down again, and when he had reached the ground, he could no longer see the light. he was in despair at this, but having walked on with his brothers for some time in the direction of the light, he caught sight of it again as they emerged from the forest. at length they reached the house where the candle was shining, not without many alarms, for often they lost sight of it altogether, and always when they went down into the hollows. they knocked loudly at the door, and a good woman came to open it. she asked them what they wanted. little thumbling told her they were poor children who had lost their way in the forest, and who begged a night's lodgings for charity's sake. the woman, seeing they were all so pretty, began to weep, and said to them, "alas! my poor children, to what a place have you come! know you not that this is the house of an ogre who eats little children?" "alas!" replied little thumbling, who trembled from head to foot, as indeed did all his brothers, "what shall we do? we shall certainly be all eaten up by the wolves to-night, if you do not give us shelter, and, in that case, we would rather be eaten by the ogre; perhaps he may have pity upon us, if you are kind enough to ask him." the ogre's wife, who thought that she might be able to hide them from her husband till the next morning, let the children come in, and led them where they could warm themselves by a good fire, for there was a whole sheep on the spit, roasting for the ogre's supper. just as they were beginning to get warm they heard two or three loud knocks at the door. it was the ogre who had come home. his wife immediately made the children hide under the bed, and went to open the door. the ogre first asked if his supper was ready, and if she had drawn the wine, and with that he sat down to his meal. the mutton was all but raw, but he liked it all the better for that. he sniffed right and left, saying that he smelt fresh meat. "it must be the calf i have just skinned," said his wife. "i tell you, i smell fresh meat," replied the ogre, giving an angry glance at his wife; "there is something here i do not understand." with these words, he rose from the table and went straight towards the bed. "ah!" he exclaimed, "so this is the way in which you would deceive me, you wretched woman! i do not know what hinders me from eating you also! it is well for you that you are such an old creature! but here is some game, which comes in handy, and will serve to feast three of my ogre friends, who are soon coming to pay me a visit." he dragged the children from under the bed, one after the other. they fell upon their knees, begging for mercy, but they had to deal with the most cruel of all the ogres, and who, far from feeling pity for them, devoured them already with his eyes, and said to his wife that they would be dainty bits, when she had made a good sauce for them. he went and took up a large knife, and as he came towards the children again, he whetted it on a long stone that he held in his left hand. he had already seized one of them, when his wife said to him, "why are you doing that at this hour of night? will it not be time enough to-morrow?" "hold your peace," replied the ogre. "they will be the more tender." "but you have already too much food," continued his wife. "here are a calf, two sheep, and half a pig." "you are right," said the ogre, "give them a good supper, that they may keep plump, and then put them to bed." the good woman was rejoiced, and brought them plenty of supper; but they could not eat, they were so overcome with fright. as for the ogre, he seated himself to drink again, delighted to think he had such a treat in store for his friends. he drained a dozen goblets more than usual, which made him feel sleepy and heavy, and obliged him to go to bed. the ogre had seven daughters, who were still young children. these little ogresses had the most beautiful complexions, as they lived on fresh meat like their father; but they had very small round grey eyes, hooked noses, and very large mouths, with long teeth, exceedingly sharp, and wide apart. they were not very wicked as yet; but they promised to become so, for they already began to bite little children, that they might suck their blood. they had been sent to bed early, and were all seven in a large bed, each wearing a crown of gold on her head. in the same room was another bed of the same size. it was in this bed that the ogre's wife put the seven little boys to sleep, after which she went to bed herself. little thumbling, who had noticed that the ogre's daughters had golden crowns on their heads, and who was afraid that the ogre might repent not having killed him and his brothers that evening, got up in the middle of the night, and, taking off his own nightcap, and those of his brothers, went very softly and placed them on the heads of the ogre's daughters, first taking off their golden crowns, which he put on his brothers and himself, in order that the ogre might mistake them for his daughters, and his daughters for the boys whom he wanted to kill. everything turned out as little thumbling had expected. the ogre awoke at midnight, and regretted having put off till the morning what he might have done the evening before. he, therefore, jumped suddenly out of bed, and seizing his great knife, "let us go, and see," said he, "how the young rogues are getting on! i will not think twice about it this time." so he stole on tiptoes up to his daughters' bedroom, and went up to the bed in which lay the little boys, who were all asleep except thumbling, who was dreadfully frightened when the ogre put his hand on his head to feel it, as he had in turn felt those of his brothers. the ogre, feeling the golden crowns, said, "truly, i was about to do a pretty piece of work! it's plain i drank too much wine last night." he then went to the bed where his daughters slept, and having felt the little nightcaps that belonged to the boys, "aha!" cried he, "here are our fine young fellows. let us to work boldly!" so saying, he, without pause, cut the throats of his seven daughters. well satisfied with his deed, he returned and lay down beside his wife. as soon as little thumbling heard the ogre snoring, he awoke his brothers, and bade them dress themselves quickly and follow him. they crept down into the garden and jumped over the wall. they ran nearly all night long, trembling the whole time, and not knowing whither they were going. the ogre, awaking in the morning, said to his wife, "go upstairs and dress those young scamps you took in last night." the ogress was astonished at her husband's kindness, never guessing what he meant, and only fancying that he wished her to go and put on their clothes. she went upstairs, where she was horrified to find that her own children had been killed. the first thing she did was to faint, for it is the first thing that almost all women do in similar circumstances. the ogre, fearing that his wife would be too long over the job he had given her to do, went upstairs to help her. his surprise was not less than had been his wife's, when his eyes fell on the frightful spectacle. "ah! what have i done?" he exclaimed. "the young wretches shall pay for it, and that at once." he threw a jugful of water in his wife's face, and having brought her to, said, "quick! fetch me my seven-league boots, that i may go after them and catch them." he set out, and after running in every direction, came at last upon the track of the poor children, who were not more than a hundred yards from their father's house. they saw the ogre striding from hill to hill, and stepping over rivers as easily as if they were the smallest brooks. little thumbling, who caught sight of a hollow rock close by where they were, hid his brothers in it, and crept in after them, keeping his eye on the ogre all the while. the ogre, feeling very tired with his long journey to no purpose--for seven-league boots are very fatiguing to the wearer--thought he should like to rest, and, by chance, sat down on the very rock in which the little boys had concealed themselves. as he was quite worn out, he had not rested long before he fell asleep, and began to snore so dreadfully, that the poor children were not less frightened than they were when he took up the great knife to cut their throats. little thumbling was not so much alarmed, and told his brothers to run quickly into the house while the ogre was sound asleep, and not to be uneasy about him. they took his advice and soon reached home. little thumbling then going up to the ogre, gently pulled off his boots, and put them on himself. the boots were very large and very long; but as they were enchanted boots, they had the quality of becoming larger or smaller according to the leg of the person who wore them, so that they fitted him as if they had been made for him. he went straight to the ogre's house, where he found the wife weeping over her murdered daughters. "your husband," said little thumbling to her, "is in great danger, for he has been seized by a band of robbers, who have sworn to kill him if he does not give them all his gold and silver. just as they had their daggers at his throat, he saw me, and begged me to come and tell you what had happened to him, and sent word that you were to give me all his ready money, without keeping back any of it, as otherwise they will kill him without mercy. as time pressed, he insisted on my taking his seven-league boots, which you see i have on, in order that i might make haste, and also that you might be sure i was not imposing upon you." the good woman, very much alarmed, immediately gave him all the money she could find, for the ogre was not a bad husband to her, although he ate little children. little thumbling, thus laden with all the ogre's wealth, hastened back to his father's house, where he was received with great joy. there are many persons who differ in their account of this part of the story, and who pretend that little thumbling never stole the ogre's money, and that he really only took the seven-league boots, as he felt no scruple in doing this, seeing that the ogre used them expressly for running after little children. these people assert that they have heard it from good authority, and that they have eaten and drunk in the woodcutter's house. they assure us that when little thumbling had put on the ogre's boots, he went to court, where he knew they were in much trouble about an army which was within two hundred leagues of them, and were anxious to hear the result of a battle that had been fought. they say he went to find the king, and told him that, if he wished it, he would bring him back news of the army before the end of the day. the king promised him a large sum of money if he did so. little thumbling brought news that very evening, and this first journey having made him well known, he got whatever he chose to ask, for the king paid him most liberally for carrying his orders to the army; a great number of ladies also gave him whatever he wished, in return for news of their lovers, and this brought him in the greatest gain. after he had been a courier for some time, and had saved a great deal of money, he returned to his father, and it is impossible to imagine the joy of his family at seeing him again. he made them all comfortable. he bought newly-made offices for his father and brothers, and by these means established them all, making his own way at court at the same time. often is the handsome boy made, alone, his father's joy; while the tiny, timid child is neglected, or reviled, notwithstanding, sometimes he lives, of all, the prop to be. beauty and the beast there was once a merchant, who was very, very rich. he had six children, three boys and three girls, and as he was a man of good sense, he spared no expense in order that they might be well educated, and gave them masters of every kind. his daughters were all beautiful, but his youngest one was especially admired, and from the time she was a small child, had been only known and spoken of as "beauty." the name remained with her as she grew older, which gave rise to a great deal of jealousy on the part of her sisters. the young girl was not only more beautiful than they were, but also kinder and more amiable. the elder daughters gave themselves great airs, for they were overweeningly proud of being so rich, and would not condescend to receive visits from the daughters of other merchants, as they only cared for the society of people in high position. not a day passed that they did not go to a ball, or a theatre, or for a drive or walk in a fashionable part of the town, and they made fun of their sister, who spent a great part of her time in study. the girls received many offers of marriage from well-to-do merchants, as they were known to be rich, but the two elder ones replied, that they did not intend to marry anyone, unless a duke or an earl could be found for a husband. beauty, the youngest, was more polite, and thanked those who asked for her hand, but she was, as she told them, too young as yet, and wished to remain for a few more years as a companion to her father. then, all at once, the merchant lost the whole of his fortune; nothing was left to him but a little house, situated far away in the country. he told his children, weeping, that they would be obliged to go and live there, and that, even then, they would have to support themselves by the work of their own hands. his two elder daughters refused to leave the town; they had many admirers, they said, who would be only too glad to marry them, although they were now without fortune. but these young ladies found themselves greatly mistaken, for their admirers did not even care to look at them, now that they were poor. they had made themselves generally disliked, on account of their haughty behaviour. "they do not deserve to be pitied," said everyone; "we are very glad that their pride is humbled; let them go and play the fine lady, keeping sheep." but people spoke differently of beauty. "we are very sorry," they said, "that she is in trouble; she is such a good girl! she always spoke so kindly to the poor! she was so gentle and courteous!" several of her suitors, also, still wished to marry her, although she had not a penny, but she told them that she could not think of leaving her father in his distress, and that she intended going with him into the country, to comfort him, and help with the work. beauty was very unhappy at losing her fortune, but she said to herself, "it is no use crying, tears will not give me back my riches; i must try and be happy without them." as soon as they were settled in their country house, the merchant and his sons began to till the ground. beauty rose every morning at four o'clock, and made haste to clean the house and prepare the dinner. she found her duties very painful and fatiguing at first, for she had not been accustomed to do the work of a servant; but in two months' time she had grown stronger, and the activity of her life gave her fresh health and colour. when her day's work was over, she amused herself with reading, or music; sometimes she sat down to her wheel, and sang to her spinning. meanwhile her two sisters were wearied to death with the dulness of their life; they stayed in bed till ten o'clock, did nothing all day but saunter about, and for their only diversion talked with regret of their former fine clothes and friends. "look at our young sister," they said to one another; "she is so low-minded and stupid, that she is quite content with her miserable condition." the good merchant thought differently: he knew that beauty was better fitted to shine in society than they were; he admired the good qualities of his youngest child, especially her patience, for her sisters, not content with allowing her to do all the work of the house, took every opportunity of insulting her. the family had lived in this solitude for a year, when a letter arrived for the merchant, telling him that a vessel, on which there was merchandise belonging to him, had arrived safely in port. the two elder girls were nearly out of their minds with joy when they heard this good news, for now they hoped that they should be able to leave the country. they begged their father, ere he departed, to bring them back dresses and capes, head-dresses, and all sorts of odds and ends of fancy attire. beauty asked for nothing; for, as she thought to herself, all the money that the merchandise would bring in, would not be sufficient to pay for everything that her sisters wished for. "is there nothing you wish me to buy for you?" her father said to her. "as you are so kind as to think of me," she replied, "i pray you to bring me a rose, for we have not one here." now beauty did not really care about the rose, but she had no wish to seem, by her example, to reprove her sisters, who would have said that she did not ask for anything, in order to make herself appear more considerate than they were. the father left them, but on arriving at his destination, he had to go to law about his merchandise, and after a great deal of trouble, he turned back home as poor as he came. he had not many more miles to go, and was already enjoying, in anticipation, the pleasure of seeing his children again, when, passing on his journey through a large wood, he lost his way. it was snowing hard; the wind was so violent that he was twice blown off his horse, and, as the night was closing in, he was afraid that he would die of cold and hunger, or that he would be eaten by the wolves, that he could hear howling around him. all at once, however, he caught sight of a bright light, which appeared to be some way off, at the further end of a long avenue of trees. he walked towards it, and soon saw that it came from a splendid castle, which was brilliantly illuminated. the merchant thanked god for the help that had been sent him, and hastened towards the castle, but was greatly surprised, on reaching it, to find no one in the courtyard, or about the entrances. his horse, which was following him, seeing the door of a large stable standing open, went in, and finding there some hay and oats, the poor animal, half dead for want of food, began eating with avidity. the merchant fastened him up in the stable, and went towards the house, but still no one was to be seen; he walked into a large dining-hall, and there he found a good fire, and a table laid for one person, covered with provisions. being wet to the skin with the rain and snow, he drew near the fire to dry himself, saying, as he did so, "the master of this house, or his servants, will pardon me the liberty i am taking; no doubt they will soon appear." he waited for a considerable time; but when eleven o'clock had struck, and still he had seen no one, he could no longer resist the feeling of hunger, and seizing a chicken, he ate it up in two mouthfuls, trembling the while. then he took a draught or two of wine, and, his courage returning, he left the dining-hall and made his way through several large rooms magnificently furnished. finally he came to a room where there was a comfortable bed, and as it was now past midnight, and he was very tired, he made up his mind to shut the door and lie down. it was ten o'clock next morning before he awoke, when, to his great surprise, he found new clothes put in place of his own, which had been completely spoiled. "this palace must certainly belong to some good fairy," he said to himself, "who, seeing my condition, has taken pity upon me." he looked out of the window; the snow was gone, and he saw instead, bowers of delicious flowers which were a delight to the eye. he went again into the dining-hall where he had supped the night before, and saw a little table with chocolate upon it. "i thank you, good madam fairy," he said aloud, "for your kindness in thinking of my breakfast." the merchant, having drunk his chocolate, went out to find his horse; as he passed under a bower of roses, he remembered that beauty had asked him to bring her one, and he plucked a branch on which several were growing. he had scarcely done so, when he heard a loud roar, and saw coming towards him a beast, of such a horrible aspect, that he nearly fainted. "you are very ungrateful," said the beast in a terrible voice; "i received you into my castle, and saved your life, and now you steal my roses, which i care for more than anything else in the world. death alone can make amends for what you have done; i give you a quarter of an hour, no more, in which to ask forgiveness of god." the merchant threw himself on his knees, and with clasped hands, said to the beast, "i pray you, my lord, to forgive me. i did not think to offend you by picking a rose for one of my daughters, who asked me to take it her." "i am not called my lord," responded the monster, "but simply the beast, i do not care for compliments; i like people to say what they think; so do not think to mollify me with your flattery. but you tell me you have some daughters; i will pardon you on condition that one of your daughters will come of her own free will to die in your place. do not stop to argue with me; go! and if your daughter refuses to die for you, swear that you will return yourself in three months' time." the merchant had no intention of sacrificing one of his daughters to this hideous monster, but he thought, "at least i shall have the pleasure of embracing them once more." he swore therefore to return, and the beast told him that he might go when he liked; "but," added he, "i do not wish you to go from me with empty hands. go back to the room in which you slept, there you will find a large empty trunk; you may fill it with whatever you please, and i will have it conveyed to your house." with these words the beast withdrew, and the merchant said to himself, "if i must die, i shall at least have the consolation of leaving my children enough for their daily bread." he returned to the room where he had passed the night, and finding there a great quantity of gold pieces, he filled the trunk, of which the beast had spoken, with these, closed it, and remounting his horse, which he found still in the stable, he rode out from the castle, his sadness now as great as had been his joy on entering it. his horse carried him of its own accord along one of the roads through the forest, and in a few hours the merchant was again in his own little house. his children gathered round him; but instead of finding pleasure in their caresses, he began to weep as he looked upon them. he held in his hand the branch of roses which he had brought for beauty. "take them," he said, as he gave them to her, "your unhappy father has paid dearly for them." and then he told his family of the melancholy adventure that had befallen him. the two elder girls, when they had heard his tale, cried and screamed, and began saying all sorts of cruel things to beauty, who did not shed a tear. "see what the pride of this wretched little creature has brought us to!" said they. "why couldn't she ask for wearing apparel as we did? but no, she must needs show herself off as a superior person. it is she who will be the cause of our father's death, and she does not even cry!" "that would be of little use," replied beauty. "why should i cry about my father's death? he is not going to die. since the monster is willing to accept one of his daughters, i will give myself up to him, that he may vent his full anger upon me; and i am happy in so doing, for by my death i shall have the joy of saving my father, and of proving my love for him." "no, my sister," said the three brothers, "you shall not die; we will go and find out this monster, and we will either kill him or die beneath his blows." "do not hope to kill him," said their father to them; "for the beast is so powerful, that i fear there are no means by which he could be destroyed. my beauty's loving heart fills mine with gladness, but she shall not be exposed to such a terrible death. i am old, i have but a little while to live; i shall but lose a few years of life, which i regret on your account, and on yours alone, my children." "i am determined, my father," said beauty, "that you shall not return to that castle without me; you cannot prevent me following you. although i am young, life has no great attraction for me, and i would far rather be devoured by the monster than die of the grief which your death would cause me." in vain the others tried to dissuade her, beauty persisted in her determination to go to the castle; and her sisters were not sorry about it, for the virtues of their young sister had aroused in them a strong feeling of jealousy. the merchant was so taken up with grief at losing his daughter, that he quite forgot about the trunk which he had filled with gold pieces, but, to his astonishment, he had no sooner shut himself into his room for the night, than he found it beside his bed. he resolved not to tell his children of his newly-obtained riches, for he knew that his daughters would then wish to return to the town, and he had made up his mind to die where he was in the country. he confided his secret, however, to beauty, who told him that there had been visitors at the house during his absence, among them two who were in love with her sisters. she begged her father to marry them; for she was so good of heart, that she loved them and freely forgave them all the unkindness they had shown her. the two hard-hearted girls rubbed their eyes with an onion that they might shed tears on the departure of their father and beauty; but the brothers wept sincerely, as did also the merchant; beauty alone would not cry, fearing that it might increase their sorrow. the horse took the road that led to the castle, and as evening fell, it came in view, illuminated as before. again the horse was the only one in the stable, and once more the merchant entered the large dining-hall, this time with his daughter, and there they found the table magnificently laid for two. the merchant had not the heart to eat; but beauty, doing her utmost to appear cheerful, sat down to the table and served him to something. then she said to herself, "the beast wants to fatten me before he eats me, since he provides such good cheer." they had finished their supper, when they heard a great noise, and the merchant, weeping, said farewell to his poor daughter, for he knew it was the beast. beauty could not help shuddering when she saw the dreadful shape approaching; but she did her best not to give way to her fear, and when the beast asked her if it was of her own free will that she had come, she told him, trembling, that it was so. "you are very good, and i am much obliged to you," said the beast. "good man, to-morrow morning you will leave, and do not venture ever to come here again." "good-bye, beast," replied beauty, and the beast immediately retired. "alas! my daughter," said the merchant, clasping beauty in his arms, "i am half dead with fright. listen to me, and leave me here." "no, my father," said beauty, without faltering. "you will depart to-morrow morning, and you will leave me under heaven's protection, maybe i shall find pity and help." [illustration: '_her father was just arriving._' _beauty & the beast_] they retired to rest, thinking that they would have no sleep that night; but no sooner were they in bed than their eyes closed. in her dreams there appeared to beauty a lady, who said to her, "i have pleasure in the goodness of your heart, beauty; your good action in giving your life to save that of your father will not be without its reward." beauty told her father next morning of her dream, and although it afforded him some consolation, it did not prevent his loud cries of grief when at last he was forced to bid good-bye to his dear daughter. after his departure, beauty went back and sat down in the dining-hall, and began weeping herself. she was, however, of a courageous disposition, and so she commended herself to god, and resolved not to be miserable during the short time still left her to live, for she quite thought that the beast would eat her that evening. in the meanwhile she resolved to walk about and look over the fine castle she was in. she found it impossible not to admire its beauty, but her surprise was great when she came to a door over which was written: beauty's room. she hastily opened the door, and was dazzled by the magnificence of the whole apartment; what most attracted her admiration, however, was a large bookcase, a piano, and several books of music. "he does not wish me to feel dull," she said in a low voice. then the thought came to her, "if i was only going to live here a day, there would not have been so much provided for my amusement." this thought revived her courage. she opened the bookcase and there saw a book on which was written in letters of gold:-"wish what you like, command what you will, you alone are queen and mistress here." "alas!" she murmured, sighing, "i wish for nothing but to see my dear father again, and to know what he is doing at this moment." she had only said this to herself in a low voice, what was her surprise, therefore, when, turning towards a large mirror, she saw her home, and her father, just returned, wearing a sad countenance; her sisters went forward to meet him, and in spite of the expression of sorrow which they tried to assume, it was evident in their faces that they were delighted to have lost their sister. in another minute, the picture had disappeared, and beauty could not help thinking that the beast was very kind hearted, and that she had not much to fear from him. she found the table laid for her at noon, and during her dinner she was entertained with a delightful concert, although no creature was visible. in the evening, as she was just sitting down to her meal, she heard the sound of the beast's voice, and could not help shuddering. "beauty," said the monster to her, "will you allow me to look on while you are eating your supper?" "you are master here," replied beauty, trembling. "not so," rejoined the beast, "it is you who alone are mistress; if i annoy you, you have only to tell me to go, and i will leave you at once. but confess now, you think me very ugly, do you not?" "that is true," said beauty, "for i cannot tell a lie; but i think you are very kind." "you are right," said the monster; "but, besides being ugly, i am also stupid; i know, well enough, that i am only a beast." "no one is stupid, who believes himself to be wanting in intelligence, it is the fool who is not aware of being without it." "eat, beauty," said the monster to her, "and try to find pleasure in your own house; for everything here belongs to you. i should be very sorry if you were unhappy." "you are everything that is kind," said beauty. "i assure you that your goodness of heart makes me happy; when i think of that, you no longer appear so ugly to me." "ah, yes!" replied the beast, "i have a kind heart, but for all that i am a monster." "many men are more monsters than you," said beauty; "and i care more for you with your countenance, than for those who with their human face hide a false, corrupt, and ungrateful heart." "if i had sufficient wit," responded the beast, "i would make you a pretty answer in return for your words; but i am too stupid for that, and all i can say is, that i am very grateful to you." beauty ate her supper with a good appetite. she had lost almost all her fear of the monster, but she almost died of fright, when he said, "beauty, will you be my wife?" she sat for a while without answering; she was alarmed at the thought of arousing the monster's anger by refusing him. nevertheless she finally said, trembling, "no, beast." at this the poor monster sighed, and the hideous sound he made echoed throughout the castle, but beauty was soon reassured, for the beast, after sadly bidding her adieu, left the room, turning his head from time to time to look at her again. a strong feeling of compassion for the beast came over beauty when she was left alone. "alas!" she said, "it is a pity he is so ugly, for he is so good!" beauty spent three months in the castle, more or less happily. the beast paid her a visit every evening, and conversed with her as she ate her supper, showing good sense in his talk, but not what the world deems cleverness. every day beauty discovered some fresh good quality in the monster; she grew accustomed to his ugliness, and far from fearing his visit, she would often look at her watch to see if it was nearly nine o'clock, for the beast always arrived punctually at that hour. there was only one thing which caused distress to beauty, and that was, that every evening before retiring, the monster asked her if she would be his wife, and always appeared overcome with sorrow at her refusal. one day she said to him, "you grieve me, beast; i wish it were possible for me to marry you, but i am too truthful to make you believe that such a thing could ever happen; i shall always be your friend, try to be satisfied with that." "i suppose i must," responded the beast; "i know i am horrible to look upon, but i love you very much. however, i am but too happy that you consent to remain here; promise me that you will never leave me." the colour came into beauty's face; her mirror had shown her that her father was ill with the grief of losing her, and she was hoping to see him again. "i would promise without hesitation never to leave you," said beauty to him, "but i do so long to see my father again, that i shall die of sorrow if you refuse me this pleasure." "i would rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you pain; i will send you home to your father, you will stay there, and your poor beast will die of grief at your absence." "no, no," said beauty, crying; "i care for you too much to wish to cause your death; i promise to return in a week's time. you have let me see that my sisters are married, and that my brothers have entered the army. my father is all alone, let me remain with him a week." "you shall be with him to-morrow morning, but remember your promise. when you wish to return, you have only to put your ring on the table before going to bed. farewell, beauty." the beast gave his usual sigh as he said these words, and beauty went to bed feeling troubled at the thought of the sorrow she had caused him. when she awoke the following morning, she found herself at home, and ringing a little bell that stood beside her bed, the maid-servant came in, who gave a loud cry of astonishment at seeing her there. her father ran in on hearing the cry, and almost died of joy when he found his dear daughter, and they remained clasped in each other's arms for more than a quarter of an hour. beauty, after the first transports of joy were over, remembered that she had no clothes with her; but the servant told her that she had just found a trunk in the next room, in which were dresses of gold fabric, trimmed with diamonds. beauty thanked the kind beast for his thoughtfulness. she took out the least costly of the dresses, and told the maid to lock the others away again, as she wished to give them to her sisters; but she had no sooner uttered these words, than the trunk disappeared. her father said to her that the beast evidently wished her to keep them all for herself, and the trunk and the dresses immediately reappeared. beauty dressed herself, and, meanwhile, news of her arrival was sent to her sisters, who came in haste with their husbands. they were both extremely unhappy. the eldest had married a young man who was as handsome as nature could make him, but he was so in love with his own face, that he could think of nothing else from morning to night, and cared nothing for the beauty of his wife. the second had married a very witty and clever man, but he only made use of his ability to put everybody in a bad temper, beginning with his wife. her sisters nearly died of envy when they saw beauty dressed like a princess, and beautiful as the day. in vain she showered caresses upon them, nothing could stifle their jealousy, which only increased when she told them how happy she was. these two jealous creatures went into the garden, that they might cry more at their ease. they said to one another, "why should this wretched little thing be happier than we are? are we not more attractive than she is?" "sister," said the eldest one, "an idea has occurred to me: let us try to keep her here over the week. her stupid old beast will be enraged at her breaking her word, and perhaps he will devour her." "you are right, sister," replied the other; "to carry out our plan, we must appear very loving and kind to her." and having settled this, they went back to the house and were so affectionate to her, that beauty cried for joy. when the week drew to a close, the two sisters showed such signs of grief at her departure, and made such lamentation, that she promised to stay till the end of the second one. beauty, however, reproached herself for the sorrow she would cause her poor beast, whom she loved with all her heart; and she began to miss him very much. on the tenth night of her absence, she dreamed that she was in the garden of the castle, and that she saw the beast lying on the grass, apparently dying, and that he reproached her with her ingratitude. beauty awoke with a start, and wept. "i am indeed wicked," she said, "to behave so ungratefully to a beast who has been so considerate and kind to me! is it his fault that he is ugly and that he is not clever? he is good, and that is worth everything else. why did i refuse to marry him? i should be happier with him than my sisters are with their husbands. it is neither beauty nor wit in a husband which makes a wife happy; it is amiability of character, uprightness and generosity: and the beast has all these good qualities. i do not love him, but i respect him, and i feel both affection for him, and gratitude. i will not make him unhappy; should i do so, i should reproach myself for it as long as i live." with these words, beauty rose, placed her ring on a table, and lay down again. the moment she was in bed, she fell asleep, and when she awoke next morning, she saw with delight that she was back in the beast's castle. she dressed herself magnificently, in order to please him, and the hours seemed to drag as she waited for nine o'clock to strike; but the hour came, and the beast did not appear. then beauty began to fear that she had caused his death. she ran through the castle, uttering loud cries, for she was in despair. after having looked everywhere, she remembered her dream, and ran into the garden towards the water, where she had seen him in her sleep. she found the poor beast stretched on the ground, and unconscious, and she thought he was dead. forgetting her horror at his appearance, she threw herself upon him, and feeling that his heart was still beating, she fetched some water and threw it over his head. the beast opened his eyes, and said to beauty, "you forgot your promise; in my grief at losing you, i determined to let myself die of hunger; but i die happy, since i have had the joy of seeing you once again." "no, my dear beast, you shall not die," exclaimed beauty. "you shall live to be my husband; i am yours from this moment, and only yours. alas! i thought the feeling i had for you was only one of friendship; but now i know, by the grief i feel, that i cannot live without you." beauty had scarcely uttered these words before she saw the castle suddenly become brilliantly illuminated, while fire-works, music, everything indicated the celebration of some joyful event. she did not gaze long, however, at these splendours, but quickly turned her eyes again towards her dear beast, the thought of whose danger made her tremble with anxiety. but what was her surprise when she saw that the beast had disappeared, and that a young and handsome prince was lying at her feet, who thanked her for having released him from enchantment. although this prince was fully worthy of her attention, beauty, nevertheless, could not help asking what had become of the beast. "you see him at your feet," said the prince to her. "a wicked fairy condemned me to remain in the form of a monster, until some fair damsel would consent to marry me, and she forbade me also to betray that i had intelligence. you are the only one who has been kind enough to allow the goodness of my heart to touch yours, and i cannot, even by offering you my crown, acquit myself of obligation to you." beauty, agreeably surprised, gave the young prince her hand, to help him to rise. they passed, side by side, into the castle, and beauty nearly died of joy, when she found her father and all her family assembled in the dining-hall, the beautiful lady whom she had seen in her dream having transported them thither. "beauty," said the lady, who was a well-known fairy, "receive the recompense of your noble choice; you preferred virtue to beauty or intelligence, and you therefore deserve to find all these qualities united in one person. you are soon to become a great queen; i trust your exalted position will not destroy your good disposition. as for you," said the fairy, turning to beauty's sisters, "i know your hearts and all the malice concealed in them. be turned, therefore, into statues, but preserve your consciousness beneath the stone which will envelop you. you will remain at the entrance of your sister's palace, and i impose no further punishment upon you, than to be the constant witnesses of her happiness. you will not be able to resume your present forms, until you have recognised and confessed your faults, but i greatly fear that you will always remain statues. pride, anger, greediness, and laziness may be corrected; but nothing short of a miracle can convert the envious and malicious heart." the fairy then gave a tap with her wand, and all those assembled in the dining-hall were immediately transported into the prince's kingdom. his subjects greeted him with joy; he married beauty, who lived a long life with him of perfect happiness, for it was founded upon virtue. the benevolent frog there was once a king who for many years had been engaged in a war with his neighbours; a great number of battles had been fought, and at last the enemy laid siege to his capital. the king, fearing for the safety of the queen, begged her to retire to a fortified castle, which he himself had never visited but once. the queen endeavoured, with many prayers and tears, to persuade him to allow her to remain beside him and to share his fate, and it was with loud cries of grief that she was put into her chariot by the king to be driven away. he ordered his guards, however, to accompany her, and promised to steal away when possible to visit her. he tried to comfort her with this hope, although he knew that there was little chance of fulfilling it, for the castle stood a long distance off, surrounded by a thick forest, and only those who were well acquainted with the roads could possibly find their way to it. the queen parted from her husband, broken-hearted at leaving him exposed to the dangers of war; she travelled by easy stages, in case the fatigue of so long a journey should make her ill; at last she reached the castle, feeling low-spirited and distressed. when sufficiently rested, she walked about the surrounding country, but found nothing to interest her or divert her thoughts. she saw only far-spreading desert tracts on either side, which gave her more pain than pleasure to look upon; sadly she gazed around her, exclaiming at intervals, "what a contrast between this place and that in which i have lived all my life! if i stay here long i shall die! to whom have i to talk in these solitudes? with whom can i share my troubles? what have i done to the king that he should banish me? he wishes me, it seems, to feel the full bitterness of our separation, by exiling me to this miserable castle." thus she lamented; and although the king wrote daily to her, and sent her good news of the progress of the siege, she grew more and more unhappy, and at last determined that she would return to him. knowing, however, that the officers who were in attendance upon her had received orders not to take her back, unless the king sent a special messenger, she kept her design secret, but ordered a small chariot to be built for her, in which there was only room for one, saying that she should like sometimes to accompany the hunt. she drove herself, and followed so closely on the hounds, that the huntsmen were left behind; by this means she had sole command of her chariot, and could get away whenever she liked. her only difficulty was her ignorance of the roads that traversed the forest; but she trusted to the kindness of providence to bring her safely through it. she gave word that there was to be a great hunt, and that she wished everybody to be there; she herself would go in her chariot, and each was to follow a different route, that there might be no possibility of escape for the wild beasts. everything was done according to her orders. the young queen, feeling sure that she should soon see her husband again, dressed herself as becomingly as possible; her hat was covered with feathers of different colours, the front of her dress lavishly trimmed with precious stones, and her beauty, which was of no ordinary kind, made her seem, when so adorned, a second diana. while everybody was occupied with the pleasures of the hunt, she gave rein to her horses, encouraged them with voice and whip, and soon their quickened pace became a gallop; then, taking the bit between their teeth, they flew along at such a speed, that the chariot seemed borne by the winds, and the eye could scarcely follow it. too late the poor queen repented of her rashness: "what could i have been thinking of?" she said. "how could i have imagined that i should be able to control such wild and fiery horses? alas! what will become of me? what would the king do if he knew the great danger i am in, he who loves me so dearly, and who only sent me away that i might be in greater safety! this is my gratitude for his tender care!" the air resounded with her piteous lamentations; she invoked heaven, she called the fairies to her assistance, but it seemed that all the powers had abandoned her. the chariot was overthrown; she had not sufficient strength to jump quickly enough to the ground, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree; it was only by a miracle she was saved. she remained stretched on the ground at the foot of a tree; her heart scarcely beat, she could not speak, and her face was covered with blood. she lay thus for a long time; when at last she opened her eyes, she saw, standing near her, a woman of gigantic stature, clothed only in a lion's skin, with bare arms and legs, her hair tied up with the dried skin of a snake, the head of which dangled over her shoulders; in her hand was a club made of stone, which served her as a walking-stick, and a quiver full of arrows was fastened to her side. when the queen caught sight of this extraordinary figure, she felt sure that she was dead, for she did not think it was possible that she could be alive after such a terrible accident, and she said in a low voice to herself, "i am not surprised that it is so difficult to resolve to die, since what is to be seen in the other world is so frightful." the giantess, who overheard her words, could not help laughing at the queen's idea that she was dead. "take courage," she said to her, "for know that you are still among the living; but your fate is none the less sad. i am the fairy lioness, whose dwelling is near here; you must come and live with me." the queen looked sorrowfully at her, and said, "if you will be good enough, madam lioness, to take me back to my castle, and tell the king what ransom you demand, he loves me so dearly, that he will not refuse you even the half of his kingdom." "no," replied the giantess, "i am rich enough, but for some time past my lonely life has seemed dull to me; you are intelligent, and will be able perhaps to amuse me." as she finished speaking, she took the form of a lioness, and placing the queen on her back, she carried her to the depths of her cave, and there rubbed her with a spirit which quickly healed the queen's wounds. but what surprise and misery for the queen to find herself in this dreadful abode! it was only reached by ten thousand steps, which led down to the centre of the earth; there was no light but that shed by a number of tall lamps, which were reflected in a lake of quicksilver. this lake was covered with monsters, each hideous enough to have frightened a less timid queen; there were owls, screech-owls, ravens, and other birds of ill omen, filling the air with discordant sounds; in the distance could be seen rising a mountain whence flowed the sluggish waters of a stream composed of all the tears shed by unhappy lovers, from the reservoirs of their sad loves. the trees were bare of leaves and fruit, the ground covered with marigolds, briars, and nettles. [illustration: _she saw beside her a woman of a gigantic size._] the food corresponded to the climate of this miserable country; for a few dried roots, some horse-chestnuts, and thorn-apples, were all that was provided by the fairy lioness to appease the hunger of those who fell into her hands. as soon as the queen was well enough to begin work, the fairy told her she could build herself a hut, as she was going to remain with her for the rest of her life. on hearing this, the queen could no longer restrain her tears: "alas, what have i done to you," she cried, "that you should keep me here? if my death, which i feel is near, would give you pleasure, i pray you, kill me, it is all the kindness i dare hope from you; but do not condemn me to pass a long and melancholy life apart from my husband." the lioness only scoffed at her, and told her that the best thing she could do was to dry her tears, and try to please her; that if she acted otherwise, she would be the most miserable person in the world. "what must i do then," replied the queen, "to soften your heart?" "i am fond of fly-pasties," said the lioness. "you must find means of procuring a sufficient number of flies to make me a large and sweet-tasting one." "but," said the queen, "i see no flies here, and even were there any, it is not light enough to catch them; and if i were to catch some, i have never in my life made pastry, so that you are giving me orders which it is impossible for me to execute." "no matter," said the pitiless lioness; "that which i wish to have, i will have." the queen made no reply: she thought to herself, in spite of the cruel fairy, that she had but one life to lose, and in the condition in which she then was, what was there to fear in death? instead, therefore, of going in search of flies, she sat herself down under a yew tree, and began to weep and complain: "ah, my dear husband, what grief will be yours, when you go to the castle to fetch me, and find i am not there; you will think that i am dead, or faithless, and i would rather that you should mourn the loss of my life, than that of my love; perhaps someone will find the remains of my chariot in the forest, and all the ornaments which i took with me to please you; and when you see these, you will no longer doubt that death has taken me; and how can i tell that you will not give to another the heart's love which you have shared with me? but, at least, i shall not have the pain of knowing this, since i am not to return to the world." she would have continued communing thus with herself for a long time, if she had not been interrupted by the dismal croaking of a raven above her head. she lifted her eyes, and by the feeble light saw a large raven with a frog in its bill, and about to swallow it. "although i see no help at hand for myself," she said, "i will not let this poor frog perish if i can save it; it suffers as much in its way, as i do in mine, although our conditions are so different," and picking up the first stick she could find, she made the raven drop its prey. the frog fell to the ground, where it lay for a time half-stunned, but finally recovering its froggish senses, it began to speak, and said: "beautiful queen, you are the first benevolent person that i have seen since my curiosity first brought me here." "by what wonderful power are you enabled to speak, little frog?" responded the queen, "and what kind of people do you see here? for as yet i have seen none." "all the monsters that cover the lake," replied the little frog, "were once in the world: some on thrones, some in high positions at court; there are even here some royal ladies, who caused much strife and blood*-shed; it is they whom you see changed into leeches; their fate condemns them to be here for a time, but none of those who come return to the world better or wiser." "i can well understand," said the queen, "that many wicked people together do not help to make each other better; but you, my little frog friend, what are you doing here?" "it was curiosity which led me here," she replied. "i am half a fairy, my powers are restricted with regard to certain things, but far-reaching in others; if the fairy lioness knew that i was in her dominions, she would kill me." "whether fairy or half-fairy," said the queen, "i cannot understand how you could have fallen into the raven's clutches and been nearly eaten." "i can explain it in a few words," replied the frog. "when i have my little cap of roses on my head, i fear nothing, as in that resides most of my power; unfortunately, i had left it in the marsh, when that ugly raven pounced upon me; if it had not been for you, madam, i should be no more; and as you have saved my life, you have only to command, and i will do all in my power to alleviate the sorrows of your own." "alas! dear frog," said the queen, "the wicked fairy who holds me captive wishes me to make her a fly-pasty; but there are no flies here; if there were any, i could not see in the dim light to catch them; i run a chance, therefore, of being killed by her blows." "leave it to me," said the frog. "i will soon get you some." whereupon the frog rubbed herself over with sugar, and more than six thousand of her frog friends did likewise; then they repaired to a place where the fairy kept a large store of flies, for the purpose of tormenting some of her unhappy victims. as soon as they smelt the sugar, they flew to it, and stuck to the frogs, and these kind helpers returned at a gallop to the queen. there had never been such a fly-catching before, nor a better pasty, than that the queen made for the fairy. the latter was greatly surprised when the queen handed it to her, and could not imagine how she had been clever enough to catch the flies. the queen, finding herself exposed to the inclemencies of the poisonous atmosphere, cut down some cypress branches, wherewith to build herself a hut. the frog generously offered her services, and putting herself at the head of all those who had gone to collect the flies, they helped the queen to build as pretty a little tenement as the world could show. scarcely, however, had she laid herself down to rest, than the monsters of the lake, jealous of her repose, came round her hut, and nearly drove her distracted, by setting up a noise, more hideous than any ever heard before. she rose in fear and trembling and fled from the house: this was exactly what the monsters desired. a dragon, who had formerly been a tyrant of one of the finest states of the universe, immediately took possession of it. the poor queen tried to complain of the ill-treatment, but no one would listen to her; the monsters laughed and hooted at her, and the fairy lioness told her that if she came again to deafen her with lamentations, she would give her a sound thrashing. she was forced, therefore, to hold her tongue, and to have recourse to the frog, who was the kindest body in the world. they wept together; for as soon as she put on her cap of roses, the frog was able to laugh or weep like anyone else. "i feel such an affection for you," she said to the queen, "that i will re-build your house, even though i drive all the monsters of the lake to despair." she immediately cut some wood, and the little rustic palace of the queen was so quickly reared, that she was able to sleep in it that night. the frog, who thought of everything that was necessary for the queen's comfort, made her a bed of wild thyme. when the wicked fairy found out that the queen did not sleep on the ground, she sent for her: "what gods or men are they who protect you?" she asked. "this land, watered only by showers of burning sulphur, has never produced even a leaf of sage; i am told, nevertheless, that sweet-smelling herbs spring up beneath your feet!" "i cannot explain it, madam," said the queen, "unless the cause is due to the child i hope one day to have, who will perhaps be less unhappy than i am." "what i now wish for," said the fairy, "is a bunch of the rarest flowers; see if this coming happiness you speak of will obtain these for you. if you fail to get them, blows will not fail to follow, for these i often give, and know well how to administer." the queen began to cry; such threats as these were anything but pleasant to her and she was in despair at the thought of the impossibility of finding flowers. she went back to her little house; her friend the frog came to her: "how unhappy you are!" she said to the queen. "alas! who would not be so, dear friend? the fairy has ordered a bunch of the most beautiful flowers, and where am i to find them? you see what sort of flowers grow here; my life, nevertheless, is at stake, if i do not procure them for her." "dear queen," said the frog in tender tones, "we must try our best to get you out of this difficulty. there lives a bat in this neighbourhood, the only one with whom i have made acquaintance; she is a good creature, and moves more quickly than i can; i will give her my cap of roses, and aided by this, she will be able to find you the flowers." the queen made a low curtsey; for there was no possible way of embracing the frog. the latter went off without delay to speak to the bat; a few hours later she returned, bearing under her wings the most exquisite flowers. the queen hurried off with them to the fairy, who was more overcome by surprise than before, unable to understand in what miraculous way the queen received help. meanwhile the queen was continually thinking by what means she could escape. she confided her longing to the frog, who said to her, "madam, allow me first to consult my little cap, and we will then arrange matters according to its advice." she took her cap, placed it on some straw, and then burned in front of it a few sprigs of juniper, some capers, and two green peas; she then croaked five times, and the ceremony being then completed, she put on her cap again, and began speaking like an oracle. "fate, the ruler of all things, forbids you to leave this place. you will have a little princess, more beautiful than venus herself; do not trouble yourself about anything else, time alone can comfort you." the queen's head drooped, a few tears fell from her eyes, but she resolved to trust her friend: "at least," she said to her, "do not leave me here alone; and befriend me when my little one is born." the frog promised to remain with her, and comforted her as best she could. but it is now time to return to the king. while the enemy kept him shut up in his capital, he could not continually send messengers to the queen. at last, however, after several sorties, he obliged the besiegers to retire, and he rejoiced at his success less on his own account, than on that of the queen, whom he could now bring back in safety. he was in total ignorance of the disaster which had befallen her, for none of his officers had dared to tell him of it. they had been into the forest and found the remains of the chariot, the runaway horses, and the driving apparel which she had put on when going to find her husband. as they were fully persuaded that she was dead, and had been eaten by wild beasts, their only care was to make the king believe that she had died suddenly. on receiving this mournful intelligence, he thought he should die himself of grief; he tore his hair, he wept many tears, and gave vent to his bereavement in every imaginable expression of sorrow, cries, sobs, and sighs. for some days he would see no one, nor allow himself to be seen; he then returned to his capital, and entered on a long period of mourning, to which the sorrow of his heart testified more sincerely than even his sombre garments of grief. all the surrounding kings sent their ambassadors charged with messages of condolence; and when the ceremonies, indispensable to these occasions, were over, he granted his subjects a period of peace, exempting them from military service, and helping them, in every possible way, to improve their commerce. the queen knew nothing of all this. meanwhile a little princess had been born to her, as beautiful as the frog had predicted, to whom they gave the name of moufette. the queen had great difficulty in persuading the fairy to allow her to bring up the child, for so ferocious was she, that she would have liked to eat it. moufette, a wonder of beauty, was now six months old; the queen, as she looked upon her with a tenderness mingled with pity, continually said: "ah! if your father could see you, my poor little one, how delighted he would be! how dear you would be to him! but even, already, maybe, he has begun to forget me; he believes, no doubt, that we are lost to him in death; and perhaps another fills the place in his heart, that once was mine." these sorrowful reflections caused her many tears; the frog, who truly loved her, seeing her cry like this, said to her one day: "if you would like me to do so, madam, i will go and find the king, your husband; the journey is long, and i travel but slowly; but, sooner or later, i shall hope to arrive." this proposal could not have been more warmly received than it was; the queen clasped her hands, and made moufette clasp hers too, in sign of the gratitude she felt towards madam frog, for offering to undertake the journey. she assured her that the king also would not be ungrateful; "but," she continued, "of what use will it be to him to know that i am in this melancholy abode; it will be impossible for him to deliver me from it?" "madam," replied the frog, "we must leave that to heaven; we can only do that which depends on ourselves." they said good-bye to one another; the queen sent a message to the king, written with her blood on a piece of rag; for she possessed neither ink nor paper. she begged him to give attention to everything the good frog told him, and to believe all she said, as she was bringing him news of herself. the frog was a year and four days climbing up the ten thousand steps which lead from the dark country, in which she had left the queen, up into the world; it took her another year to prepare her equipage, for she had too much pride to allow herself to appear at the court like a poor, common frog from the marshes. she had a little sedan-chair made, large enough to hold two eggs comfortably; it was covered on the outside with tortoise-shell, and lined with lizard-skin; then she chose fifty maids of honour, these were the little green frogs which hop about the meadows; each was mounted on a snail, furnished with a light saddle, and rode in style with the leg thrown over the saddle-bow; several water-rats, dressed as pages, ran before the snails, as her body-guard; in short, nothing so pretty had ever been seen before, and to crown it all, her cap of crimson roses, always fresh and in full bloom, suited her in the most admirable manner. she was a bit of a coquette in her way, so she felt obliged to add a little rouge and a few patches; some said that she was painted as were many ladies of that country, but inquiries into the matter proved that this report had only been spread by her enemies. the journey lasted seven years, during which time the poor queen went through unspeakable pains and suffering, and if it had not been for the beautiful moufette, who was a great comfort to her, she would have died a hundred times over. this wonderful little creature could not open her mouth or say a word, without filling her mother with delight; indeed, everybody, with the exception of the fairy lioness, was enchanted with her; at last, when the queen had lived six years in this horrible place, the fairy said that, provided everything she killed was given to her, she might go hunting with her. the joy of the queen at once more seeing the sun may be imagined. so unaccustomed had she grown to its light, that at first she thought it would blind her. as for moufette, she was so quick and intelligent, that even at five or six years of age, she never failed to hit her mark, and so, in this way, the mother and daughter succeeded in somewhat lessening the ferocity of the fairy. the frog travelled over mountains and valleys, never stopping day or night; at last she drew near the capital, where the king was in residence. she was surprised to see dancing and festivity in every direction; there was laughter and singing, and the nearer she got to the town, the more joyous and jubilant the people seemed. her rural equipage caused great astonishment, everyone went after it, and so large had the crowd become by the time she had reached the town, that she had great difficulty in making her way to the palace. here everything was as magnificent as possible, for the king, who had been a widower for nine years, had at last yielded to the prayers of his subjects, and was on the eve of marriage with a princess, less beautiful, it is true, than his wife, but not the less agreeable for that. the kind frog, having descended from her sedan-chair, entered the royal presence, followed by her attendants. she had no need to ask for audience, for the king, his affianced bride, and all the princes, were all much too curious to know the reason of her coming, to think of interrupting her. "sire," said she, "i hardly know if the news i bring you will give you joy or sorrow; the marriage which you are about to celebrate, convinces me of your infidelity to the queen." "her memory is dear to me as ever," said the king, unable to prevent the falling of a tear or two; "but you must know, kind frog, that kings are not always able to do what they wish; for the last nine years, my subjects have been urging me to marry; i owe them an heir to the throne, and i have therefore chosen this young princess, who appears to me all that is charming." "i advise you not to marry her, for the queen is not dead; i bring you a letter from her, written with her own blood. a little daughter, moufette, has been born to you, more beautiful than the heavens themselves." the king took the rag, on which the queen had scrawled a few words; he kissed it, he bathed it in his tears, he showed it to the whole assembly, saying that he recognised his wife's handwriting; he asked the frog a thousand questions, which she answered with vivacity and intelligence. the betrothed princess, the ambassadors who had come to be present at the marriage, began to pull long faces. one of the most important of the guests turned to the king, and said, "sire, can you think of breaking so solemn an engagement, on the word of a toad like that? this scum of the marshes has the insolence to come and tell lies before the whole court, for the pleasure of being heard!" "know, your excellency," replied the frog, "that i am no scum of the marshes, and since i am forced to exhibit my powers: come forth, fairies all!" and thereupon all the frogs, rats, snails, lizards, with the frog at their head, suddenly appeared; not, however, in the usual form of these reptiles, but with tall, majestic figures, pleasing countenances, and eyes more brilliant than stars; each wore a jewelled crown on his head, and over his shoulders a regal mantle of velvet, lined with ermine, with a long train which was borne by dwarfs. at the same time was heard the sound of trumpets, kettle-drums, hautboys, and drums, filling the air with melodious and warlike music, and all the fairies began to dance a ballet, their every step so light, that the slightest spring lifted them to the vaulted ceiling of the room. the king and his future queen, surprised as they were at this, were no less astonished, when they saw all these fairy ballet dancers suddenly change into flowers, jasmine, jonquils, violets, pinks, and tube roses, which still continued to dance as if they had legs and feet. it was like a living flower-bed, of which every movement delighted both the eye and the sense of smell. another moment, and the flowers had disappeared; in their place several fountains threw their waters into the air and fell into an artificial lake at the foot of the castle walls; this was covered with little painted and gilded boats, so pretty and dainty that the princess invited the ambassadors to go for a trip on the water. they were all pleased to do so, thinking it was all a merry pastime, which would end happily in the marriage festivities. but they had no sooner embarked, than the boats, water, and fountains disappeared, and the frogs were frogs again. the king asked what had become of the princess; the frog replied, "sire, no queen is yours, but your wife; were i less attached to her than i am, i should not interfere; but she is so deserving, and your daughter moufette is so charming that you ought not to delay a moment in going to their deliverance." "i assure you, madam frog," said the king, "that if i did not believe my wife to be dead, there is nothing in the world i would not do to see her again." "after the wonders i have shown you," she replied, "it seems to me that you ought to be more convinced of the truth of what i have told you. leave your kingdom in charge of trustworthy men, and start without delay. here is a ring which will furnish you with the means of seeing the queen, and of speaking with the fairy lioness, although she is the most terrible creature in the world." the king departed, refusing to have anyone to accompany him, after making handsome presents to the frog: "do not be discouraged," she said to him; "you will meet with terrible difficulties, but i hope that you will succeed according to your wishes." somewhat comforted by her words, the king started in search of his dear wife, with no other guide than his ring. as moufette grew older, her beauty became more perfect, and all the monsters of the quicksilver lake fell in love with her; and the dragons, with their hideous and terrifying forms, came and lay at her feet. although moufette had seen them ever since she was born, her beautiful eyes could not accustom themselves to the sight of these creatures, and she would run away and hide in her mother's arms. "shall we remain here long?" she asked her; "is there to be no end to our misery?" the queen spoke hopefully in order to cheer her child, but in her heart she had no hope; the absence of the frog, her unbroken silence, the long time that had elapsed since she had news of the king, all these things filled her with sorrow and despair. the fairy lioness had gradually made it a practice to take them with her hunting. she was fond of good things, and liked the game they killed for her, and although all they got in return was the gift of the head or the feet, it was something to be allowed to see again the light of day. the fairy took the form of a lioness, the queen and her daughter seated themselves on her back, and thus they went hunting through the forests. the king happened to be resting in a forest one day, whither his ring had guided him, and saw them pass like an arrow shot from the bow; he was unseen of them, and when he tried to follow them, they vanished completely from his sight. notwithstanding the constant trouble she had been in, the queen still preserved her former beauty; she appeared to her husband more charming than ever. he longed for her to return to him, and feeling sure that the young princess who was with her was his dear little moufette, he determined to face a thousand deaths, rather than abandon his design of rescuing her. by the help of his ring, he found his way into the obscure region where the queen had been so many years; he was not a little surprised when he found himself descending to the centre of the earth, but every fresh thing he saw astonished him more and more. the fairy lioness, who knew everything, was aware of the day and the hour when he would arrive; she would have given a great deal if the powers in league with her had ordained otherwise; but she determined at least to oppose his strength with the full might of her own. she built a palace of crystal, which floated in the centre of the lake of quicksilver, and rose and fell with its waves. in it she imprisoned the queen and her daughter, and then harangued all the monsters who were in love with moufette. "you will lose this beautiful princess," she said to them, "if you do not help me to protect her from a knight who has come to carry her away." the monsters promised to leave nothing in their power undone; they surrounded the palace of crystal; the lightest in weight took their stations on the roof and walls; the others kept guard at the doors, and the remainder in the lake. the king, advised by his faithful ring, went first to the fairy's cave; she was awaiting him in her form of lioness. as soon as he appeared she threw herself upon him; but he handled his sword with a valour for which she was not prepared, and as she was putting out one of her paws to fell him to the earth, he cut it off at the joint just where the elbow comes. she uttered a loud cry and fell over; he went up to her, put his foot on her throat and swore that he would kill her, and in spite of her ungovernable fury and invulnerability, she felt a little afraid. "what do you wish to do with me?" she asked. "what do you want of me?" "i wish to punish you," he replied proudly, "for having carried away my wife, and you shall give her up to me or i will strangle you on the spot." "look towards the lake," she said, "and see if i have the power to do so." the king turned in the direction towards which she pointed, and saw the queen and her daughter in the palace of crystal, which was floating like a vessel, without oars or rudder, on the lake of quicksilver. he was ready to die with mingled joy and sorrow; he called to them with all his might, and they heard him, but how was he to reach them? while thinking over the means by which he might accomplish this, the fairy lioness disappeared. he ran round and round the lake, but whenever the palace came close enough to him, on one side or the other, for him to spring upon it, it suddenly floated away again with terrible swiftness, and so his hopes were continually disappointed. the queen, fearing he would at length grow weary, called to him not to lose courage, that the fairy lioness wanted to tire him out, but that true love knew how to face all difficulties. she and moufette then stretched out their hands towards him with imploring gestures. seeing this, the king was filled with renewed courage, and raising his voice, he said that he would rather pass the remainder of his life in this melancholy region than go away without them. he needed great patience, for no king on earth ever spent such a wretched time before. he had only the ground, covered with briars and thorns, for his bed; his food consisted of wild fruits, more bitter than gall, and he was incessantly engaged in defending himself from the monsters of the lake. three years passed in this manner, and the king could not flatter himself that he had gained the least advantage; he was almost in despair, and over and over again was tempted to throw himself in the lake, and he would certainly have done so if he could have thought that by such a deed he might alleviate the sufferings of the queen and the princess. he was running one day as usual, first to one side of the lake then to the other, when one of the most hideous of the dragons called him, and said to him: "if you will swear to me by your crown and sceptre, by your royal mantle, by your wife and child, to give me, whenever i shall ask for it, a certain delicate morsel to eat, for which i have a taste, i will take you on my back, and i promise you that none of the monsters of this lake, who guard the palace, shall prevent us from carrying off the queen and princess moufette." "ah! my beloved dragon!" cried the king, "i swear to you, and to all the family of dragons, that i will give you your fill to eat of what you like, and will for ever remain your humble servant." "do not make any promises," replied the dragon, "if you have any thought of not fulfilling them; for, in that case, misfortunes will fall upon you that you will not forget as long as you live." the king renewed his protestations; he was dying of impatience to get possession of his dear queen. he mounted on the dragon's back, as if it was the finest horse in the world, but the other monsters now advanced to bar his passage. they fought together, nothing was to be heard but the sharp hissings of the serpents, nothing to be seen but fire, and sulphur, and saltpetre, falling in every direction. at last the king reached the palace, but here his efforts had to be renewed, for the entrances were defended by bats, owls, and ravens; however, the dragon, with his claws, his teeth and tail, cut to pieces even the boldest of these. the queen, on her side, who was looking on at this fierce encounter, kicked away pieces of the wall, and armed herself with these to help her dear husband. they were at last victorious; they ran into one another's arms, and the work of disenchantment was completed by a thunderbolt, which fell into the lake and dried it up. the friendly dragon had disappeared with all the other monsters, and the king, by what means he could not guess, found himself again in his own capital, seated, with his queen and moufette, in a magnificent dining-hall, with a table spread with exquisite meats in front of them. such joy and astonishment as theirs were unknown before. all their subjects ran in to see the queen and the young princess, who, to add to the wonder of it all, was so superbly dressed, that the eye could hardly bear to look upon her dazzling jewels. it is easy to imagine the festivities that now went on at the castle; masquerades, running at the ring, and tournaments attracted the greatest princes in the world; but even more were they attracted by the bright eyes of moufette. among those who were the handsomest and most accomplished in feats of arms, prince moufy everywhere was the most conspicuous. he was universally admired and applauded, and moufette, who hitherto had been only in the company of dragons and serpents, did not withhold her share of praise. no day passed but prince moufy showed her some fresh attention, in the hope of pleasing her, for he loved her deeply; and having offered himself as a suitor, he made known to the king and queen, that his principality was of a beauty and extent that deserved their special attention. the king replied that moufette was at liberty to choose a husband, and that he only wished to please her and make her happy. the prince was delighted with this answer, and having already become aware that he was not indifferent to the princess, offered her his hand. she assured him that if he was not her husband, no other man should be, and moufy, overcome with joy, threw himself at her feet, and in affectionate terms begged her to remember the promise she had given him. the prince and princess were betrothed, and prince moufy then returned to his principality to make preparations for the marriage. moufette shed many tears at his departure, for she was troubled with a presentiment of evil which she could not explain. the queen, seeing that the prince was also overcome with sorrow, gave him the portrait of her daughter, and begged him rather to lessen the magnificence of the preparations than to delay his return. the prince, only too ready to obey such a command, promised to comply with what would be for his own happiness. the princess occupied herself during his absence with her music, for she had, in a few months, learnt to play well. one day, when she was in the queen's room, the king rushed in, his face bathed in tears, and taking his daughter in his arms: "alas, my child," he cried. "alas! wretched father, unhappy king!" he could say no more, for his voice was stifled with sobs. the queen and princess, in great alarm, asked him what was the matter, and at last he was able to tell them that a giant of an enormous height, who gave himself out to be an ambassador from the dragon of the lake, had just arrived; that in accordance with the promise, made by the king in return for the help he had received in fighting the monsters, the dragon demanded him to give up the princess, as he wished to make her into a pie for his dinner; the king added that he had bound himself by solemn oaths to give him what he asked, and in those days no one ever broke his word. when the queen heard this dreadful news, she uttered piercing cries, and clasped her child to her breast. "my life shall be taken," she said, "before my daughter shall be delivered up to that monster; let him rather take our kingdom and all that we possess. unnatural father! can you possibly consent to such a cruel thing? what! my child made into a pie! the thought of it is intolerable! send me this terrible ambassador, maybe the sight of my anguish may touch his heart." the king made no reply, but went in search of the giant and brought him to the queen, who threw herself at his feet. she and her daughter implored him to have mercy upon them, and to persuade the dragon to take everything they possessed, and to spare moufette's life; but the giant replied that the matter did not rest with him, and that the dragon was so obstinate and so fond of good things, that all the powers combined would not prevent him eating whatever he had taken into his head he would like for a meal. he further advised them, as a friend, to consent with a good grace, as otherwise greater evils might arise. at these words the queen fainted, and the princess, had she not been obliged to go to her mother's assistance, would have done the same. no sooner was the sad news spread through the palace, than the whole town knew it. nothing was heard but weeping and wailing, for moufette was greatly beloved. the king could not make up his mind to give her to the giant, and the giant, who had already waited some days, began to grow impatient, and to utter terrible threats. the king and queen, however, said to each other, "what worse thing could happen to us? if the dragon of the lake were to come and devour us all we could not be more distressed; if moufette is put into a pie, we are lost." the giant now told them that he had received a message from his master, and that if the princess would agree to marry a nephew of his, the dragon would let her live; that the nephew was young and handsome; that, moreover, he was a prince, and that she would be able to live with him very happily. this proposal somewhat lessened their grief; the queen spoke to the princess, but found her still more averse to this marriage than to the thought of death. "i cannot save my life by being unfaithful," said moufette. "you promised me to prince moufy, and i will marry no one else; let me die; my death will ensure the peace of your lives." the king then came and endeavoured with all the tenderest of expressions to persuade her; but nothing moved her, and finally it was decided that she should be conducted to the summit of a mountain, and there await the dragon. everything was prepared for this great sacrifice; nothing so mournful had before been seen; nothing to be met anywhere but black garments, and pale and horrified faces. four hundred maidens of the highest rank, dressed in long white robes, and crowned with cypress, accompanied the princess, who was carried in an open litter of black velvet, that all might look on this masterpiece of beauty. her hair, tied with crape, hung over her shoulders, and she wore a crown of jasmine, mingled with a few marigolds. the grief of the king and queen, who followed, overcome by their deep sorrow, appeared the only thing that moved her. the giant, armed from head to foot, marched beside the litter, and looked with hungry eye at the princess, as if anticipating his share of her when she came to be eaten; the air resounded with sighs and sobs, and the road was flooded with the tears of the onlookers. "ah! frog, frog," cried the queen, "you have indeed forsaken me! alas! why did you give me help in that unhappy region, and now withhold it from me! would that i had then died, i should not now be lamenting the loss of all my hopes, i should not now have the anguish of seeing my dear moufette on the point of being devoured!" the procession meanwhile was slowly advancing, and at last reached the summit of the fatal mountain. here the cries and lamentations were redoubled, nothing more piteous had before been heard. the giant ordered everyone to say farewell and to retire, and they all obeyed him, for in those days, people were very simple and submissive, and never sought for a remedy in their misfortunes. the king and queen, and all the court, now ascended another mountain, whence they could see all that happened to the princess: and they had not to wait long, before they saw a dragon, half a league long, coming through the air. his body was so heavy that, notwithstanding his six large wings, he was hardly able to fly; he was covered with immense blue scales, and poisonous tongues of flame; his tail was twisted into as many as fifty and a half coils; each of his claws was the size of a windmill, and three rows of teeth, as long as those of an elephant, could be seen inside his wide-open jaw. as the dragon slowly made his way towards the mountain, the good, faithful frog, mounted on the back of a hawk, flew rapidly to prince moufy. she wore her cap of roses, and although he was locked into his private room, she entered without a key, and said, "what are you doing here, unhappy lover? you sit dreaming of moufette's beauty, and at this very moment she is exposed to the most frightful danger; here is a rose-leaf, by blowing upon it, i can change it into a superb horse, as you will see." there immediately appeared a horse, green in colour, and with twelve hoofs and three heads, of which one emitted fire, another bomb-shells, and the third cannon-balls. she gave the prince a sword, eight yards long, and lighter than a feather. she clothed him with a single diamond, which he put on like a coat, and which, although as hard as a rock, was so pliable that he could move in it at his ease. "go," she said, "run, fly to the rescue of her whom you love; the green horse i have given you, will take you to her, and when you have delivered her, let her know the share i have had in the matter." "generous fairy," cried the prince, "i cannot at this moment show you all my gratitude; but from henceforth, i am your faithful servitor." he mounted the horse with the three heads, which instantly galloped off on its twelve hoofs, and went at a greater rate than three of the best ordinary horses, so that in a very little time the prince reached the mountain, when he found his dear princess all alone, and saw the dragon slowly drawing near. the green horse immediately began to send forth fire, bomb-shells, and cannon-balls, which not a little astonished the monster; he received twenty balls in his throat, and his scales were somewhat damaged, and the bomb-shells put out one of his eyes. he grew furious, and made as if to throw himself on the prince; but his long sword was so finely-tempered, that he could use it as he liked, thrusting it in at times up to the hilt, and at others using it like a whip. the prince, on his side, would have suffered from the dragon's claws, had it not been for his diamond coat, which was impenetrable. moufette had recognised her lover a long way off, for the diamond that covered him was transparent and bright, and she was seized with mortal terror at the danger he was in. the king and queen, however, were filled with renewed hope, for it was such an unexpected thing to see a horse with three heads and twelve hoofs, sending forth fire and flame, and a prince in a diamond suit and armed with a formidable sword, arrive at such an opportune moment, and fight with so much valour. the king put his hat on the top of his stick, and the queen tied her handkerchief to the end of another, as signals of encouragement to the prince; and all their court followed suit. as a fact, this was not necessary, for his own heart and the peril in which he saw moufette, were sufficient to animate his courage. and what efforts did he not make! the ground was covered with stings, claws, horns, wings, and scales of the dragon; the earth was coloured blue and green with the mingled blood of the dragon and the horse. five times the prince fell to the ground, but each time he rose again and leisurely mounted his horse, and then there were cannonades, and rushing of flames, and explosions, such as were never heard or seen before. the dragon's strength at last gave way, and he fell; the prince gave him a final blow, and nobody could believe their eyes, when from this last great wound, there stepped forth a handsome and charming prince, in a coat of blue and gold velvet, embroidered with pearls, while on his head he wore a little grecian helmet, shaded with white feathers. he rushed, his arms outspread, towards prince moufy, and embraced him. "what do i not owe you, valiant liberator?" he cried. "you have delivered me from a worse prison than ever before enclosed a king; i have languished there since, sixteen years ago, the fairy lioness condemned me to it; and, such was her power, that she would have forced me, against my will, to devour that adorable princess; lead me to her feet, that i may explain to her my misfortune." prince moufy, surprised and delighted at this extraordinary termination to his adventure, showered civilities on the newly-found prince. they hastened to rejoin moufette, who thanked heaven a thousand times for her unhoped-for happiness. the king, the queen, and all the court, were already with her; everybody spoke at once, nobody listened to anybody else, and they all shed nearly as many tears of joy as they had before of grief. finally, that nothing might be wanting to complete their rejoicing, the good frog appeared, flying through the air on her hawk, which had little bells of gold on its feet. when the tinkle, tinkle, of these was heard, everyone looked up, and saw the cap of roses shining like the sun, and the frog as beautiful as the dawn. the queen ran towards her, and took her by one of her little paws, and in the same moment, the wise frog became a great queen, with a charming countenance. "i come," she cried, "to crown the faithful moufette, who preferred to risk her life, rather than be untrue to prince moufy." she thereupon took two myrtle wreaths, and placed them on the heads of the lovers, and giving three taps with her wand, all the dragon's bones formed themselves into a triumphal arch, in commemoration of the great event which had just taken place. they all wended their way back to the town, singing wedding songs, as gaily as they had before mournfully bewailed the sacrifice of the princess. the marriage took place the following day, and the joy with which it was celebrated may be imagined. princess rosette once upon a time there lived a king and queen who had two handsome boys; so well-fed and hearty were they, that they grew like the day. whenever the queen had a child, she sent for the fairies, that she might learn from them what would be its future lot. after a while she had a little daughter, who was so beautiful, that no one could see her without loving her. the fairies came as usual, and the queen having feasted them, said to them as they were going away, "do not forget that good custom of yours, but tell me what will happen to rosette"--for this was the name of the little princess. the fairies answered her that they had left their divining-books at home, and that they would come again to see her. "ah!" said the queen, "that bodes no good, i fear; you do not wish to distress me by foretelling evil; but, i pray you, let me know the worst, and hide nothing from me." the fairies continued to make excuses, but the queen only became more anxious to know the truth. at last the chief among them said to her, "we fear, madam, that rosette will be the cause of a great misfortune befalling her brothers; that they may even lose their lives on her account. this is all that we can tell you of the fate of this sweet little princess, and we are grieved to have nothing better to say about her." the fairies took their departure, and the queen was very sorrowful, so sorrowful that the king saw by her face that she was in trouble. he asked her what was the matter. she told him she had gone too near the fire and accidentally burnt all the flax that was on her distaff. "is that all?" replied the king, and he went up to his store-room and brought her down more flax than she could spin in a hundred years. but the queen was still very sorrowful, and the king again asked her what was the matter. she told him that she had been down to the river and had let one of her green satin slippers fall into the water. "is that all?" replied the king, and he sent for all the shoemakers in the kingdom, and made the queen a present of ten thousand green satin slippers. still the queen was no less sorrowful; the king asked her once more what was the matter. she told him that, being hungry, she had eaten hastily, and had swallowed her wedding-ring. the king knew that she was not speaking the truth, for he had himself put away the ring, and he replied, "my dear wife, you are not speaking the truth; here is your ring, which i have kept in my purse." the queen was put out of countenance at being caught telling a lie--for there is nothing in the world so ugly--and she saw that the king was vexed, so she told him what the fairies had predicted about little rosette, and begged him to tell her if he could think of any remedy. the king was greatly troubled, so much so, that at last he said to the queen, "i see no way of saving our two boys, except by putting the little girl to death, while she is still in her swaddling clothes." but the queen cried that she would rather suffer death herself, that she would never consent to so cruel a deed, and that the king must try and think of some other remedy. the king and queen could think of nothing else, and while thus pondering over the matter, the queen was told that in a large wood near the town, there lived an old hermit, who made his home in the trunk of a tree, whom people went from far and near to consult. "it is to him i must go," said the queen; "the fairies told me the evil, but they forgot to tell me the remedy." she started early in the morning, mounted on her little white mule, that was shod with gold, and accompanied by two of her maids of honour, who each rode a pretty horse. when they were near the wood they dismounted out of respect, and made their way to the tree where the hermit lived. he did not much care for the visits of women, but when he saw that it was the queen approaching, he said, "welcome! what would you ask of me?" she related to him what the fairies had said about rosette, and asked him to advise her what to do. he told her that the princess must be shut up in a tower, and not be allowed to leave it as long as she lived. the queen thanked him, and returned and told everything to the king. the king immediately gave orders for a large tower to be built as quickly as possible. in it he placed his daughter, but that she might not feel lonely and depressed, he, and the queen, and her two brothers, went to see her every day. the elder of these was called the big prince, and the younger, the little prince. they loved their sister passionately, for she was the most beautiful and graceful princess ever seen, and the least glance of hers was worth more than a hundred gold pieces. when she was fifteen years old, the big prince said to the king, "father, my sister is old enough to be married; shall we not soon have a wedding?" the little prince said the same to the queen, but their majesties laughed and changed the subject, and made no answer about the marriage. now, it happened that the king and queen both fell very ill, and died within a few days of one another. there was great mourning; everyone wore black, and all the bells were tolled. rosette was inconsolable at the loss of her good mother. as soon as the funeral was over, the dukes and marquises of the kingdom placed the big prince on a throne made of gold and diamonds; he wore a splendid crown on his head, and robes of violet velvet embroidered with suns and moons. then the whole court cried out, "long live the king!" and now on all sides there was nothing but rejoicing. then the young king and his brother said one to another, "now that we are the masters, we will release our sister from the tower, where she has been shut up for such a long and dreary time." they had only to pass through the garden to reach the tower, which stood in one corner of it, and had been built as high as was possible, for the late king and queen had intended her to remain there always. rosette was embroidering a beautiful dress on a frame in front of her, when she saw her brothers enter. she rose, and taking the king's hand, said, "good-day, sire, you are now king, and i am your humble subject; i pray you to release me from this tower, where i lead a melancholy life," and with this, she burst into tears. the king embraced her, and begged her not to weep, for he was come, he said, to take her from the tower, and to conduct her to a beautiful castle. the prince had his pockets full of sweetmeats, which he gave rosette. "come," he said, "let us get away from this wretched place; the king will soon find you a husband; do not be unhappy any longer." when rosette saw the beautiful garden, full of flowers, and fruits, and fountains, she was so overcome with astonishment, that she stood speechless, for she had never seen anything of the kind before. she looked around her, she went first here, then there, she picked the fruit off the trees, and gathered flowers from the beds; while her little dog, fretillon, who was as green as a parrot, kept on running before her, saying, yap, yap, yap! and jumping and cutting a thousand capers, and everybody was amused at his ways. presently he ran into a little wood, whither the princess followed him, and here her wonder was even greater than before, when she saw a large peacock spreading out its tail. she thought it so beautiful, so very beautiful, that she could not take her eyes off it. the king and the prince now joined her, and asked her what delighted her so much. she pointed to the peacock, and asked them what it was. they told her it was a bird, which was sometimes eaten. "what!" she cried, "dare to kill and eat a beautiful bird like that! i tell you, that i will marry no one but the king of the peacocks, and when i am their queen i shall not allow anybody to eat them." the astonishment of the king cannot be described. "but, dear sister," said he, "where would you have us go to find the king of the peacocks?" "whither you please, sire; but him, and him alone, will i marry." having come to this decision, she was now conducted by her brothers to their castle; the peacock had to be brought and put into her room, so fond was she of it. all the court ladies who had not before seen rosette now hastened to greet her, and pay their respects to her. some brought preserves with them, some sugar, and others dresses of woven gold, beautiful ribbons, dolls, embroidered shoes, pearls, and diamonds. everyone did their best to entertain her, and she was so well brought up, so courteous, kissing their hands, curtseying when anything beautiful was given to her, that there was not a lord or lady who did not leave her presence gratified and charmed. while she was thus occupied, the king and the prince were turning over in their minds how they should find the king of the peacocks, if there was such a person in the world to be found. they decided that they would have rosette's portrait painted; and when completed it was so life-like, that only speech was wanting. then they said to her, "since you will marry no one but the king of the peacocks, we are going together to look for him, and will traverse the whole world to try and find him for you. if we find him, we shall be very glad. meanwhile take care of our kingdom until we return." rosette thanked them for all the trouble they were taking; she promised to govern the kingdom well, and said that, during their absence, her only pleasure would be in looking at the peacock, and making her little dog dance. they all three cried when they said good-bye to each other. so the two princes started on their long journey, and they asked everyone whom they met, "do you know the king of the peacocks?" but the reply was always the same, "no, we do not." each time they passed on and went further, and in this way they travelled so very, very far, that no one had ever been so far before. they came to the kingdom of the cock-chafers; and these were in such numbers, and made such a loud buzzing, that the king feared he should become deaf. he asked one of them, who appeared to him to have the most intelligence, whether he knew where the king of the peacocks was to be found. "sire," replied the cock-chafer, "his kingdom lies thirty thousand leagues from here; you have chosen the longest way to reach it." "and how do you know that?" asked the king. "because," answered the cock-chafer, "we know you very well, for every year we spend two or three months in your gardens." whereupon the king and his brother embraced the cock-chafer, and they went off arm in arm to dine together, and the two strangers admired all the curiosities of that new country, where the smallest leaf of a tree was worth a gold piece. after that, they continued their journey, and having been directed along the right way, they were not long in reaching its close. on their arrival, they found all the trees laden with peacocks, and, indeed, there were peacocks everywhere, so that they could be heard talking and screaming two leagues off. the king said to his brother "if the king of the peacocks is a peacock himself, how can our sister marry him? it would be folly to consent to such a thing, and it would be a fine thing for us to have little peacocks for nephews." the prince was equally disturbed at the thought. "it is an unhappy fancy she has taken into her head," he said. "i cannot think what led her to imagine that there was such a person in the world as the king of the peacocks." when they entered the town, they saw that it was full of men and women, and that they all wore clothes made of peacocks' feathers, and that these were evidently considered fine things, for every place was covered with them. they met the king, who was driving in a beautiful little carriage of gold, studded with diamonds, and drawn by twelve peacocks at full gallop. this king of the peacocks was so handsome, that the king and the prince were delighted; he had long, light, curly hair, fair complexion, and wore a crown of peacocks' feathers. directly he saw them, he guessed, seeing that they wore a different costume to the people of the country, that they were strangers, and wishing to ascertain if this was so, he ordered his carriage to stop, and sent for them. [illustration: '_oh, you are jesting;_' _replied the king of the peacocks._ _princess rosette_] the king and the prince advanced, bowing low, and said, "sire, we have come from afar, to show you a portrait." they drew forth rosette's portrait and showed it to him. after gazing at it a while, the king of the peacocks said, "i can scarcely believe that there is so beautiful a maiden in the whole world." "she is a thousand times more beautiful," said the king. "you are jesting," replied the king of the peacocks. "sire," rejoined the prince, "here is my brother, who is a king, like yourself; he is called king, and my name is prince; our sister, of whom this is the portrait, is the princess rosette. we have come to ask if you will marry her; she is good and beautiful, and we will give her, as dower, a bushel of golden crowns." "it is well," said the king. "i will gladly marry her; she shall want for nothing, and i shall love her greatly; but i require that she shall be as beautiful as her portrait, and if she is in the smallest degree less so, i shall make you pay for it with your lives." "we consent willingly," said both rosette's brothers. "you consent?" added the king. "you will go to prison then, and remain there until the princess arrives." the princes made no difficulty about this, for they knew well that rosette was more beautiful than her portrait. they were well looked after while in prison, and were well served with all they required, and the king often went to see them. he kept rosette's portrait in his room, and could scarcely rest day or night for looking at it. as the king and his brother could not go to her themselves, they wrote to rosette, telling her to pack up as quickly as possible, and to start without delay, as the king of the peacocks was awaiting her. they did not tell her that they were prisoners, for fear of causing her uneasiness. the princess scarcely knew how to contain herself with joy, when she received this message. she told everybody that the king of the peacocks had been found, and that he wanted to marry her. bonfires were lit, and guns fired, and quantities of sweetmeats and sugar were eaten; everyone who came to see the princess, during the three days before her departure, was given bread-and-butter and jam, rolled wafers, and negus. after having thus dispensed hospitality to her visitors, she presented her beautiful dolls to her best friends, and handed over the government to the wisest elders of the town, begging them to look well after everything, to spend little, and to save up money for the king on his return. she also prayed them to take care of her peacock, for with her she only took her nurse, and her foster-sister, and her little green dog, fretillon. they set out in a boat on the sea, carrying with them the bushel of golden crowns, and sufficient clothes for two changes a day for ten years. they made merry on their voyage, laughing and singing, and the nurse kept on asking the boatman if they were nearing the kingdom of the peacocks; for a long time, all he said was, "no, no, not yet." then at last, when she asked again, "are we anywhere near it now?" he answered, "we shall soon be there, very soon." once more she said, "are we near, are we anywhere near it now?" and he said, "yes, we are now within reach of shore." on hearing this, the nurse went to the end of the boat, and sitting down beside the boatman, said to him, "if you like, you can be rich for the remainder of your life." he replied, "i should like nothing better." she continued, "if you like, you can earn good money." "that would suit me very well," he answered. "well," she went on, "then to-night, when the princess is asleep, you must help me throw her into the sea. after she is drowned, i will dress my daughter in her fine clothes, and we will take her to the king of the peacocks, who will only be too pleased to marry her; and as a reward to you, we will give you as many diamonds as you care to possess." the boatman was very much astonished at this proposal; he told the nurse that it was a pity to drown such a pretty princess, and that he felt compassion for her; but the nurse fetched a bottle of wine and made him drink so much, that he had no longer any power to refuse. night having come, the princess went to bed as usual, her little fretillon lying at her feet, not even stirring one of his paws. rosette slept soundly, but the wicked nurse kept awake, and went presently to fetch the boatman. she took him into the princess's room, and together they lifted her up, feather bed, mattress, sheets, coverlet, and all, and threw them into the sea, the princess all the while so fast asleep, that she never woke. but fortunately, her bed was made of phoenix-feathers, which are extremely rare, and have the property of always floating on water; so that she was carried along in her bed as in a boat. the water, however, began gradually first to wet her feather bed, then her mattress, and rosette began to feel uncomfortable, and turned from side to side, and then fretillon woke up. he had a capital nose, and when he smelt the soles and cod-fish so near, he started barking at them, and this awoke all the other fish, who began swimming about. the bigger ones ran against the princess's bed, which, not being attached to anything, span round and round like a whirligig. rosette could not make out what was happening. "is our boat having a dance on the water?" she said. "i am not accustomed to feeling so uneasy as i am to-night," and all the while fretillon continued barking, and going on as if he was out of his mind. the wicked nurse and the boatman heard him from afar, and said: "there's that funny little beast drinking our healths with his mistress. let us make haste to land," for they were now just opposite the town of the king of the peacocks. he had sent down a hundred chariots to the landing-place; they were drawn by all kinds of rare animals, lions, bears, stags, wolves, horses, oxen, asses, eagles, and peacocks: and the chariot which was intended for the princess was harnessed with six blue monkeys, that could jump, dance on the tight rope, and do endless clever tricks; they had beautiful trappings of crimson velvet, overlaid with plates of gold. sixty young maids of honour were also in attendance, who had been chosen by the king for the amusement of the princess; they were dressed in all sorts of colours, and gold and silver were the least precious of their adornments. the nurse had taken great pains to dress her daughter finely; she had put on her rosette's best robe, and decked her all over from head to foot with the princess's diamonds; but with all this, she was still as ugly as an ape, with greasy black hair, crooked eyes, bowed legs, and a hump on her back; and, added to these deformities, she was besides of a disagreeable and sulky temper, and was always grumbling. when the people saw her get out of the boat, they were so taken aback by her appearance, that they could not utter a sound. "what is the meaning of this?" she said. "are you all asleep? be off, and bring me something to eat! a nice set of beggars you are! i will have you all hanged." when they heard this, they murmured, "what an ugly creature! and she is as wicked as she is ugly! a nice wife for our king; well, we are not surprised! but it was scarcely worth the trouble to bring her from the other side of the world." meanwhile she still behaved as if she were already mistress of all and everything, and for no reason at all, boxed their ears, or gave a blow with her fist to everybody in turn. as her escort was a very large one, the procession moved slowly, and she sat up in her chariot like a queen; but all the peacocks, who had stationed themselves on the trees, so as to salute her as she passed, and who had been prepared to shout, "long live the beautiful queen rosette!" could only call out, "fie, fie, how ugly she is!" as soon as they caught sight of her. she was so enraged at this, that she called to her guards, "kill those rascally peacocks who are insulting me." but the peacocks quickly flew away, and only laughed at her. the treacherous boatman, seeing and hearing all this, said in a low voice to the nurse, "there is something wrong, good mother; your daughter should have been better looking." she answered, "hold your tongue, stupid, or you will bring us into trouble." the king had word brought him that the princess was approaching. "well," he said, "have her brothers, i wonder, told me the truth? is she more beautiful than her portrait?" "sire," said those near him, "there will be nothing to wish for, if she is as beautiful." "you are right," replied the king, "i shall be well content with that. come, let us go and see her," for he knew by the hubbub in the courtyard that she had arrived. he could not distinguish anything that was said, except, "fie, fie, how ugly she is!" and he imagined that the people were calling out about some little dwarf or animal that she had brought with her, for it never entered his head that the words were applied to the princess herself. rosette's portrait was carried uncovered, at the top of a long pole, and the king walked after it in solemn state, with all his nobles and his peacocks, followed by ambassadors from various kingdoms. the king of the peacocks was very impatient to see his dear rosette; but when he did see her--well, he very nearly died on the spot. he flew into a violent rage, he tore his clothes, he would not go near her, he felt quite afraid of her. "what!" he cried, "have those two villains i have in prison had the boldness and impudence to make a laughing-stock of me, and to propose my marrying such a fright as that? they shall both be killed; and let that insolent woman, and the nurse, and the man who is with them, be immediately carried to the dungeon of my great tower, and there kept." while this was going on, the king and his brother, who knew that his sister was expected, had put on their bravest apparel ready to receive her; but instead of seeing their prison door open and being set at liberty, as they had hoped, the gaoler came with a body of soldiers and made them go down into a dark cellar, full of horrible reptiles, and where the water was up to their necks; no one was ever more surprised or distressed than they were. "alas!" they said to one another, "this is indeed a melancholy marriage feast for us! what can have happened that we should be so ill-treated?" they did not know what in the world to think, except that they were to be killed, and they were very sorrowful about this. three days passed, and no news reached them of any kind. at the end of that time, the king of the peacocks came, and began calling out insulting things to them through a hole in the wall. "you called yourselves king and prince, that i might fall into your trap, and engage myself to marry your sister; but you are nothing better than two beggars, who are not worth the water you drink. i am going to bring you before the judges, who will soon pass their verdict upon you; the rope to hang you with is already being made." "king of the peacocks," replied the king, angrily, "do not act too rashly in this matter, or you may repent it. i am a king as well as you, and i have a fine kingdom, and rich clothing, and crowns, to say nothing of good gold pieces. you must be joking to talk like this of hanging us; have we stolen anything from you?" when the king heard him speak so boldly, he did not know what to think, and he felt half inclined to let them and their sister go without putting them to death; but his chief adviser, who was an arrant flatterer, dissuaded him from this, telling him that if he did not revenge the insult that had been put upon him, all the world would make fun of him, and look upon him as nothing better than a miserable little king worth a few coppers a day. the king thereupon swore that he would never forgive them, and ordered them to be brought to trial at once. this did not take long; the judges had only to look at the real rosette's portrait and then at the princess who had arrived, and, without hesitation, they ordered the prisoners' heads to be cut off as a punishment for having lied to the king, since they had promised him a beautiful princess, and had only given him an ugly peasant girl. they repaired with great ceremony to the prison to read this sentence to them; but the prisoners declared that they had not lied, that their sister was a princess, and more beautiful than the day; that there must be something under this which they did not understand, and they asked for a respite of seven days, as before that time had expired their innocence might have been established. the king of the peacocks, who had worked himself up to a high pitch of anger, could with great difficulty be induced to accord them this grace, but at last he consented. while these things were going on at the court, we must say something about poor rosette. both she and fretillon were very much astonished, when daylight came, to find themselves in the middle of the sea, without a boat, and far from all help. she began to cry, and cried so piteously, that even the fishes had compassion on her: she did not know what to do, nor what would become of her. "there is no doubt," she said, "that the king of the peacocks ordered me to be thrown into the sea, having repented his promise of marrying me, and to get rid of me quietly he has had me drowned. what a strange man!" she continued, "for i should have loved him so much! we should have been so happy together," and with that she burst out crying afresh, for she could not help still loving him. she remained floating about on the sea for two days, wet to the skin, and almost dead with cold; she was so benumbed by it, that if it had not been for little fretillon, who lay beside her and kept a little warmth in her, she could not have survived. she was famished with hunger, and seeing the oysters in their shells, she took as many of these as she wanted and ate them; fretillon did the same, to keep himself alive, although he did not like such food. rosette became still more alarmed when the night set in. "fretillon," she said, "keep on barking, to frighten away the soles, for fear they should eat us." so fretillon barked all night, and when the morning came, the princess was floating near the shore. close to the sea at this spot, there lived a good old man; he was poor, and did not care for the things of the world, and no one ever visited him in his little hut. he was very much surprised when heard fretillon barking, for no dogs ever came in that direction; he thought some travellers must have lost their way, and went out with the kind intention of putting them on the right road again. all at once he caught sight of the princess and fretillon floating on the sea, and the princess, seeing him, stretched out her arms to him, crying out, "good man, save me, or i shall perish; i have been in the water like this for two days." when he heard her speak so sorrowfully, he had great pity on her, and went back into his hut to fetch a long hook; he waded into the water up to his neck, and once or twice narrowly escaped drowning. at last, however, he succeeded in dragging the bed on to the shore. rosette and fretillon were overjoyed to find themselves again on dry ground; and were full of gratitude to the kind old man. rosette wrapped herself in her coverlet, and walked bare-footed into the hut, where the old man lit a little fire of dry straw, and took one of his dead wife's best dresses out of a trunk, with some stockings and shoes, and gave them to the princess. dressed in her peasant's attire, she looked as beautiful as the day, and fretillon capered round her and made her laugh. the old man guessed that rosette was some great lady, for her bed was embroidered with gold and silver, and her mattress was of satin. he begged her to tell him her story, promising not to repeat what she told him if she so wished. so she related to him all that had befallen her, crying bitterly the while, for she still thought that it was the king of the peacocks who had ordered her to be drowned. "what shall we do, my daughter?" said the old man. "you are a princess and accustomed to the best of everything, and i have but poor fare to offer, black bread and radishes; but if you will let me, i will go and tell the king of the peacocks that you are here; if he had once seen you, he would assuredly marry you." "alas! he is a wicked man," said rosette; "he would only put me to death; but if you can lend me a little basket, i will tie it round fretillon's neck, and he will have very bad luck, if he does not manage to bring back some food." the old man gave her a basket, which she fastened to fretillon's neck, and then said, "go to the best kitchen in the town, and bring me back what you find in the saucepan." fretillon ran off to the town, and as there was no better kitchen than that of the king, he went in, uncovered the saucepan, and cleverly carried off all that was in it; then he returned to the hut. rosette said to him, "go back and take whatever you can find of the best in the larder." fretillon went back to the king's larder, and took white bread, wine, and all sorts of fruits and sweetmeats; he was so laden that he could only just manage to carry the things home. when the king of the peacocks' dinner hour arrived, there was nothing for him either in the saucepan or in the larder; his attendants looked askance at one another, and the king was in a terrible rage. "it seems, then, that i am to have no dinner; but see that the spit is put before the fire, and let me have some good roast meat this evening." the evening came, and the princess said to fretillon, "go to the best kitchen in the town and bring me a joint of good roast meat." fretillon obeyed, and knowing no better kitchen than that of the king, he went softly in, while the cooks' backs were turned, took the meat, which was of the best kind, from the spit, and carried it back in his basket to the princess. she sent him back without delay to the larder, and he carried off all the preserves and sweetmeats that had been prepared for the king. the king, having had no dinner, was very hungry, and ordered supper to be served early, but no supper was forthcoming; enraged beyond words, he was forced to go supperless to bed. the same thing happened the following day, both as to dinner and supper; so that the king, for three days, was without meat or drink, for every time he sat down to table, it was found that the meal that had been prepared had been stolen. his chief adviser, fearing for the life of the king, hid himself in the corner of the kitchen to watch; he kept his eyes on the saucepan, that was boiling over the fire, and what was his surprise to see enter a little green dog, with one ear, that uncovered the pot, and put the meat in its basket. he followed it to see where it would go; he saw it leave the town, and still following, came to the old man's hut. then he went and told the king that it was to a poor peasant's home that the food was carried morning and evening. the king was greatly astonished, and ordered more inquiries to be made. his chief adviser, anxious for favour, decided to go himself, taking with him a body of archers. they found the old man and rosette at dinner, eating the meat that had been stolen from the king's kitchen, and they seized them, and bound them with cords, taking fretillon prisoner at the same time. they brought word to the king that the delinquents had been captured, and he replied, "to-morrow, the last day of reprieve for my two insolent prisoners will expire; they and these thieves shall die together." he then went into his court of justice. the old man threw himself on his knees before him, and begged to be allowed to tell him everything. as he was speaking, the king looked towards the beautiful princess, and his heart was touched when he saw her crying. when, therefore, the old man said that she was the princess rosette who had been thrown into the water, in spite of the weak condition he was in from having starved for so long, he gave three bounds of joy, ran and embraced her, and untied her cords, declaring the while that he loved her with all his heart. they at once went to find the princes, who thought they were going to be put to death, and came forward in great dejection and hanging their heads; the nurse and her daughter were brought in at the same time. the brothers and sister recognised one another, as soon as they were brought face to face, and rosette threw herself on her brothers' necks. the nurse and her daughter, and the boatman, begged on their knees for mercy, and the universal rejoicing and their own joy were so great, that the king and the princess pardoned them, and gave the good old man a handsome reward, and from that time he continued to live in the palace. finally, the king of the peacocks did all in his power to atone for his conduct to the king and his brother, expressing the deepest regret at having treated them so badly. the nurse restored to rosette all her beautiful clothes and the bushel of golden crowns, and the wedding festivities lasted a fortnight. everyone was happy down to fretillon, who ate nothing but partridge wings for the rest of his life. the end _colston & coy. limited, printers, edinburgh._ transcriber's note: punctuation has been standardised. changes to the original publication have been made as follows: page 64 as he was entirly governed by _changed to_ as he was entirely governed by page 70 your are!" said she to them, _changed to_ you are!" said she to them, page 110 they would he obliged to go and _changed to_ they would be obliged to go and page 115 withdrew, and the merchant said ro _changed to_ withdrew, and the merchant said to page 124 reassurred, for the beast, after _changed to_ reassured, for the beast, after page 148 on a piece of rag; for she possesed _changed to_ on a piece of rag; for she possessed page 151 of the room. the the king and _changed to_ of the room. the king and page 163 windwill, and three rows of teeth _changed to_ windmill, and three rows of teeth page 191 said that she was the prrincess rosette _changed to_ said that she was the princess rosette [illustration: decoration] old-time stories [illustration: "they reached the house where the light was burning."] old-time stories _told by_ master charles perrault _translated from the french by a·e·johnson with illustrations by_ w·heath robinson [illustration: decoration] new york dodd, mead & company _first published, 1921_ _printed in great britain_ prefatory note of the eleven tales which the present volume comprises, the first eight are from the master-hand of charles perrault. charles perrault (1628-1703) enjoyed much distinction in his day, and is familiar to students of french literature for the prominent part that he played in the famous _quarrel of the ancients and moderns_, which so keenly occupied french men of letters in the latter part of the seventeenth century. but his fame to-day rests upon his authorship of the traditional _tales of mother goose; or stories of olden times_, and so long as there are children to listen spellbound to the adventures of cinderella, red riding hood, and that arch rogue puss in boots, his memory will endure. to the eight tales of perrault three others have been added here. 'beauty and the beast,' by mme leprince de beaumont (1711-1781), has a celebrity which warrants its inclusion, however inferior it may seem, as an example of the story-teller's art, to the masterpieces of perrault. 'princess rosette' and 'the friendly frog' are from the prolific pen of mme d'aulnoy (1650-1705), a contemporary of perrault, whom she could sometimes rival in invention, if never in dramatic power. [illustration: decoration] contents page the sleeping beauty in the wood 1 puss in boots 21 little tom thumb 34 the fairies 55 ricky of the tuft 61 cinderella 75 little red riding hood 92 blue beard 99 beauty and the beast 113 the friendly frog 138 princess rosette 174 list of illustrations coloured plates 'they reached the house where the light was burning' (see page 41) _frontispiece_ facing page 'the most beautiful sight he had ever seen' 16 'all that remained for the youngest was the cat' 21 '"you must die, madam," he said' 99 'every evening the beast paid her a visit' 130 '"could your father but see you, my poor child"' 152 black-and-white illustrations page 'the king ... at once published an edict' 3 'a little dwarf who had a pair of seven-league boots' 7 'the king's son chanced to go a-hunting' 10 'all asleep' 12 'they all fell asleep' 13 'as though he were dead' 23 'the cat went on ahead' 26 puss in boots 27 'puss became a personage of great importance' 31 'a good dame opened the door' 37 'he could smell fresh flesh' 43 'he set off over the countryside' 47 'laden with all the ogre's wealth' 51 'lifting up the jug so that she might drink the more easily' 57 'she could not set four china vases on the mantelpiece without breaking one of them' 63 'graceful and easy conversation' 65 ricky of the tuft 71 'the haughtiest, proudest woman that had ever been seen' 77 'her godmother found her in tears' 81 'away she went' 83 'she rose and fled as nimbly as a fawn' 85 'they tried it first on the princesses' 89 little red riding hood 93 'she met old father wolf' 95 'making nosegays of the wild flowers' 96 'come up on the bed with me' 97 blue beard 101 'she washed it well' 104 sister anne 105 'brandishing the cutlass aloft' 109 'at first she found it very hard' 115 '"look at our little sister"' 117 'it was snowing horribly' 119 the beast 122 '"your doom is to become statues"' 135 'the approach to it was by ten thousand steps' 143 the friendly frog 146 'the journey lasted seven years' 155 princess rosette 179 the wicked nurse 186 'she was an ugly little fright' 189 'she floated hither and thither' 194 'a kindly old man' 195 [illustration: decoration] the sleeping beauty in the wood once upon a time there lived a king and queen who were grieved, more grieved than words can tell, because they had no children. they tried the waters of every country, made vows and pilgrimages, and did everything that could be done, but without result. at last, however, the queen found that her wishes were fulfilled, and in due course she gave birth to a daughter. a grand christening was held, and all the fairies that could be found in the realm (they numbered seven in all) were invited to be godmothers to the little princess. this was done so that by means of the gifts which each in turn would bestow upon her (in accordance with the fairy custom of those days) the princess might be endowed with every imaginable perfection. when the christening ceremony was over, all the company returned to the king's palace, where a great banquet was held in honour of the fairies. places were laid for them in magnificent style, and before each was placed a solid gold casket containing a spoon, fork, and knife of fine gold, set with diamonds and rubies. but just as all were sitting down to table an aged fairy was seen to enter, whom no one had thought to invite--the reason being that for more than fifty years she had never quitted the tower in which she lived, and people had supposed her to be dead or bewitched. by the king's orders a place was laid for her, but it was impossible to give her a golden casket like the others, for only seven had been made for the seven fairies. the old creature believed that she was intentionally slighted, and muttered threats between her teeth. she was overheard by one of the young fairies, who was seated near by. the latter, guessing that some mischievous gift might be bestowed upon the little princess, hid behind the tapestry as soon as the company left the table. her intention was to be the last to speak, and so to have the power of counteracting, as far as possible, any evil which the old fairy might do. presently the fairies began to bestow their gifts upon the princess. the youngest ordained that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the temper of an angel; the third, that she should do everything with wonderful grace; the fourth, that she should dance to perfection; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play every kind of music with the utmost skill. it was now the turn of the aged fairy. shaking her head, in token of spite rather than of infirmity, she declared that the princess should prick her hand with a spindle, and die of it. a shudder ran through the company at this terrible gift. all eyes were filled with tears. but at this moment the young fairy stepped forth from behind the tapestry. 'take comfort, your majesties,' she cried in a loud voice; 'your daughter shall not die. my power, it is true, is not enough to undo all that my aged kinswoman has decreed: the princess will indeed prick her hand with a spindle. but instead of dying she shall merely fall into a profound slumber that will last a hundred years. at the end of that time a king's son shall come to awaken her.' [illustration: '_the king ... at once published an edict_'] the king, in an attempt to avert the unhappy doom pronounced by the old fairy, at once published an edict forbidding all persons, under pain of death, to use a spinning-wheel or keep a spindle in the house. at the end of fifteen or sixteen years the king and queen happened one day to be away, on pleasure bent. the princess was running about the castle, and going upstairs from room to room she came at length to a garret at the top of a tower, where an old serving-woman sat alone with her distaff, spinning. this good woman had never heard speak of the king's proclamation forbidding the use of spinning-wheels. 'what are you doing, my good woman?' asked the princess. 'i am spinning, my pretty child,' replied the dame, not knowing who she was. 'oh, what fun!' rejoined the princess; 'how do you do it? let me try and see if i can do it equally well.' partly because she was too hasty, partly because she was a little heedless, but also because the fairy decree had ordained it, no sooner had she seized the spindle than she pricked her hand and fell down in a swoon. in great alarm the good dame cried out for help. people came running from every quarter to the princess. they threw water on her face, chafed her with their hands, and rubbed her temples with the royal essence of hungary. but nothing would restore her. then the king, who had been brought upstairs by the commotion, remembered the fairy prophecy. feeling certain that what had happened was inevitable, since the fairies had decreed it, he gave orders that the princess should be placed in the finest apartment in the palace, upon a bed embroidered in gold and silver. you would have thought her an angel, so fair was she to behold. the trance had not taken away the lovely colour of her complexion. her cheeks were delicately flushed, her lips like coral. her eyes, indeed, were closed, but her gentle breathing could be heard, and it was therefore plain that she was not dead. the king commanded that she should be left to sleep in peace until the hour of her awakening should come. when the accident happened to the princess, the good fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of mataquin, twelve thousand leagues away. she was instantly warned of it, however, by a little dwarf who had a pair of seven-league boots, which are boots that enable one to cover seven leagues at a single step. the fairy set off at once, and within an hour her chariot of fire, drawn by dragons, was seen approaching. the king handed her down from her chariot, and she approved of all that he had done. but being gifted with great powers of foresight, she bethought herself that when the princess came to be awakened, she would be much distressed to find herself all alone in the old castle. and this is what she did. [illustration: '_a little dwarf who had a pair of seven-league boots_'] she touched with her wand everybody (except the king and queen) who was in the castle--governesses, maids of honour, ladies-in-waiting, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, errand boys, guards, porters, pages, footmen. she touched likewise all the horses in the stables, with their grooms, the big mastiffs in the courtyard, and little puff, the pet dog of the princess, who was lying on the bed beside his mistress. the moment she had touched them they all fell asleep, to awaken only at the same moment as their mistress. thus they would always be ready with their service whenever she should require it. the very spits before the fire, loaded with partridges and pheasants, subsided into slumber, and the fire as well. all was done in a moment, for the fairies do not take long over their work. then the king and queen kissed their dear child, without waking her, and left the castle. proclamations were issued, forbidding any approach to it, but these warnings were not needed, for within a quarter of an hour there grew up all round the park so vast a quantity of trees big and small, with interlacing brambles and thorns, that neither man nor beast could penetrate them. the tops alone of the castle towers could be seen, and these only from a distance. thus did the fairy's magic contrive that the princess, during all the time of her slumber, should have nought whatever to fear from prying eyes. at the end of a hundred years the throne had passed to another family from that of the sleeping princess. one day the king's son chanced to go a-hunting that way, and seeing in the distance some towers in the midst of a large and dense forest, he asked what they were. his attendants told him in reply the various stories which they had heard. some said there was an old castle haunted by ghosts, others that all the witches of the neighbourhood held their revels there. the favourite tale was that in the castle lived an ogre, who carried thither all the children whom he could catch. there he devoured them at his leisure, and since he was the only person who could force a passage through the wood nobody had been able to pursue him. [illustration: '_the king's son chanced to go a-hunting_'] while the prince was wondering what to believe, an old peasant took up the tale. 'your highness,' said he, 'more than fifty years ago i heard my father say that in this castle lies a princess, the most beautiful that has ever been seen. it is her doom to sleep there for a hundred years, and then to be awakened by a king's son, for whose coming she waits.' this story fired the young prince. he jumped immediately to the conclusion that it was for him to see so gay an adventure through, and impelled alike by the wish for love and glory, he resolved to set about it on the spot. hardly had he taken a step towards the wood when the tall trees, the brambles and the thorns, separated of themselves and made a path for him. he turned in the direction of the castle, and espied it at the end of a long avenue. this avenue he entered, and was surprised to notice that the trees closed up again as soon as he had passed, so that none of his retinue were able to follow him. a young and gallant prince is always brave, however; so he continued on his way, and presently reached a large fore-court. the sight that now met his gaze was enough to fill him with an icy fear. the silence of the place was dreadful, and death seemed all about him. the recumbent figures of men and animals had all the appearance of being lifeless, until he perceived by the pimply noses and ruddy faces of the porters that they merely slept. it was plain, too, from their glasses, in which were still some dregs of wine, that they had fallen asleep while drinking. the prince made his way into a great courtyard, paved with marble, and mounting the staircase entered the guardroom. here the guards were lined up on either side in two ranks, their muskets on their shoulders, snoring their hardest. through several apartments crowded with ladies and gentlemen in waiting, some seated, some standing, but all asleep, he pushed on, and so came at last to a chamber which was decked all over with gold. there he encountered the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. reclining upon a bed, the curtains of which on every side were drawn back, was a princess of seemingly some fifteen or sixteen summers, whose radiant beauty had an almost unearthly lustre. [illustration: '_all asleep_'] trembling in his admiration he drew near and went on his knees beside her. at the same moment, the hour of disenchantment having come, the princess awoke, and bestowed upon him a look more tender than a first glance might seem to warrant. 'is it you, dear prince?' she said; 'you have been long in coming!' charmed by these words, and especially by the manner in which they were said, the prince scarcely knew how to express his delight and gratification. he declared that he loved her better than he loved himself. his words were faltering, but they pleased the more for that. the less there is of eloquence, the more there is of love. her embarrassment was less than his, and that is not to be wondered at, since she had had time to think of what she would say to him. it seems (although the story says nothing about it) that the good fairy had beguiled her long slumber with pleasant dreams. to be brief, after four hours of talking they had not succeeded in uttering one half of the things they had to say to each other. [illustration: '_they all fell asleep_'] now the whole palace had awakened with the princess. every one went about his business, and since they were not all in love they presently began to feel mortally hungry. the lady-in-waiting, who was suffering like the rest, at length lost patience, and in a loud voice called out to the princess that supper was served. the princess was already fully dressed, and in most magnificent style. as he helped her to rise, the prince refrained from telling her that her clothes, with the straight collar which she wore, were like those to which his grandmother had been accustomed. and in truth, they in no way detracted from her beauty. they passed into an apartment hung with mirrors, and were there served with supper by the stewards of the household, while the fiddles and oboes played some old music--and played it remarkably well, considering they had not played at all for just upon a hundred years. a little later, when supper was over, the chaplain married them in the castle chapel, and in due course, attended by the courtiers in waiting, they retired to rest. they slept but little, however. the princess, indeed, had not much need of sleep, and as soon as morning came the prince took his leave of her. he returned to the city, and told his father, who was awaiting him with some anxiety, that he had lost himself while hunting in the forest, but had obtained some black bread and cheese from a charcoal-burner, in whose hovel he had passed the night. his royal father, being of an easy-going nature, believed the tale, but his mother was not so easily hoodwinked. she noticed that he now went hunting every day, and that he always had an excuse handy when he had slept two or three nights from home. she felt certain, therefore, that he had some love affair. two whole years passed since the marriage of the prince and princess, and during that time they had two children. the first, a daughter, was called 'dawn,' while the second, a boy, was named 'day,' because he seemed even more beautiful than his sister. many a time the queen told her son that he ought to settle down in life. she tried in this way to make him confide in her, but he did not dare to trust her with his secret. despite the affection which he bore her, he was afraid of his mother, for she came of a race of ogres, and the king had only married her for her wealth. it was whispered at the court that she had ogrish instincts, and that when little children were near her she had the greatest difficulty in the world to keep herself from pouncing on them. no wonder the prince was reluctant to say a word. but at the end of two years the king died, and the prince found himself on the throne. he then made public announcement of his marriage, and went in state to fetch his royal consort from her castle. with her two children beside her she made a triumphal entry into the capital of her husband's realm. some time afterwards the king declared war on his neighbour, the emperor cantalabutte. he appointed the queen-mother as regent in his absence, and entrusted his wife and children to her care. [illustration: "the most beautiful sight he had ever seen."] he expected to be away at the war for the whole of the summer, and as soon as he was gone the queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law and the two children to a country mansion in the forest. this she did that she might be able the more easily to gratify her horrible longings. a few days later she went there herself, and in the evening summoned the chief steward. 'for my dinner to-morrow,' she told him, 'i will eat little dawn.' 'oh, madam!' exclaimed the steward. 'that is my will,' said the queen; and she spoke in the tones of an ogre who longs for raw meat. 'you will serve her with piquant sauce,' she added. the poor man, seeing plainly that it was useless to trifle with an ogress, took his big knife and went up to little dawn's chamber. she was at that time four years old, and when she came running with a smile to greet him, flinging her arms round his neck and coaxing him to give her some sweets, he burst into tears, and let the knife fall from his hand. presently he went down to the yard behind the house, and slaughtered a young lamb. for this he made so delicious a sauce that his mistress declared she had never eaten anything so good. at the same time the steward carried little dawn to his wife, and bade the latter hide her in the quarters which they had below the yard. eight days later the wicked queen summoned her steward again. 'for my supper,' she announced, 'i will eat little day.' the steward made no answer, being determined to trick her as he had done previously. he went in search of little day, whom he found with a tiny foil in his hand, making brave passes--though he was but three years old--at a big monkey. he carried him off to his wife, who stowed him away in hiding with little dawn. to the ogress the steward served up, in place of day, a young kid so tender that she found it surpassingly delicious. so far, so good. but there came an evening when this evil queen again addressed the steward. 'i have a mind,' she said, 'to eat the queen with the same sauce as you served with her children.' this time the poor steward despaired of being able to practise another deception. the young queen was twenty years old, without counting the hundred years she had been asleep. her skin, though white and beautiful, had become a little tough, and what animal could he possibly find that would correspond to her? he made up his mind that if he would save his own life he must kill the queen, and went upstairs to her apartment determined to do the deed once and for all. goading himself into a rage he drew his knife and entered the young queen's chamber, but a reluctance to give her no moment of grace made him repeat respectfully the command which he had received from the queen-mother. 'do it! do it!' she cried, baring her neck to him; 'carry out the order you have been given! then once more i shall see my children, my poor children that i loved so much!' nothing had been said to her when the children were stolen away, and she believed them to be dead. the poor steward was overcome by compassion. 'no, no, madam,' he declared; 'you shall not die, but you shall certainly see your children again. that will be in my quarters, where i have hidden them. i shall make the queen eat a young hind in place of you, and thus trick her once more.' without more ado he led her to his quarters, and leaving her there to embrace and weep over her children, proceeded to cook a hind with such art that the queen-mother ate it for her supper with as much appetite as if it had indeed been the young queen. the queen-mother felt well satisfied with her cruel deeds, and planned to tell the king, on his return, that savage wolves had devoured his consort and his children. it was her habit, however, to prowl often about the courts and alleys of the mansion, in the hope of scenting raw meat, and one evening she heard the little boy day crying in a basement cellar. the child was weeping because his mother had threatened to whip him for some naughtiness, and she heard at the same time the voice of dawn begging forgiveness for her brother. the ogress recognised the voices of the queen and her children, and was enraged to find she had been tricked. the next morning, in tones so affrighting that all trembled, she ordered a huge vat to be brought into the middle of the courtyard. this she filled with vipers and toads, with snakes and serpents of every kind, intending to cast into it the queen and her children, and the steward with his wife and serving-girl. by her command these were brought forward, with their hands tied behind their backs. there they were, and her minions were making ready to cast them into the vat, when into the courtyard rode the king! nobody had expected him so soon, but he had travelled post-haste. filled with amazement, he demanded to know what this horrible spectacle meant. none dared tell him, and at that moment the ogress, enraged at what confronted her, threw herself head foremost into the vat, and was devoured on the instant by the hideous creatures she had placed in it. the king could not but be sorry, for after all she was his mother; but it was not long before he found ample consolation in his beautiful wife and children. [illustration: "all that remained for the youngest was the cat."] puss in boots a certain miller had three sons, and when he died the sole worldly goods which he bequeathed to them were his mill, his ass, and his cat. this little legacy was very quickly divided up, and you may be quite sure that neither notary nor attorney were called in to help, for they would speedily have grabbed it all for themselves. the eldest son took the mill, and the second son took the ass. consequently all that remained for the youngest son was the cat, and he was not a little disappointed at receiving such a miserable portion. 'my brothers,' said he, 'will be able to get a decent living by joining forces, but for my part, as soon as i have eaten my cat and made a muff out of his skin, i am bound to die of hunger.' these remarks were overheard by puss, who pretended not to have been listening, and said very soberly and seriously: 'there is not the least need for you to worry, master. all you have to do is to give me a pouch, and get a pair of boots made for me so that i can walk in the woods. you will find then that your share is not so bad after all.' now this cat had often shown himself capable of performing cunning tricks. when catching rats and mice, for example, he would hide himself amongst the meal and hang downwards by the feet as though he were dead. his master, therefore, though he did not build too much on what the cat had said, felt some hope of being assisted in his miserable plight. on receiving the boots which he had asked for, puss gaily pulled them on. then he hung the pouch round his neck, and holding the cords which tied it in front of him with his paws, he sallied forth to a warren where rabbits abounded. placing some bran and lettuce in the pouch, he stretched himself out and lay as if dead. his plan was to wait until some young rabbit, unlearned in worldly wisdom, should come and rummage in the pouch for the eatables which he had placed there. hardly had he laid himself down when things fell out as he wished. a stupid young rabbit went into the pouch, and master puss, pulling the cords tight, killed him on the instant. well satisfied with his capture, puss departed to the king's palace. there he demanded an audience, and was ushered upstairs. he entered the royal apartment, and bowed profoundly to the king. 'i bring you, sire,' said he, 'a rabbit from the warren of the marquis of carabas (such was the title he invented for his master), which i am bidden to present to you on his behalf.' 'tell your master,' replied the king, 'that i thank him, and am pleased by his attention.' [illustration: '_as though he were dead_'] another time the cat hid himself in a wheatfield, keeping the mouth of his bag wide open. two partridges ventured in, and by pulling the cords tight he captured both of them. off he went and presented them to the king, just as he had done with the rabbit from the warren. his majesty was not less gratified by the brace of partridges, and handed the cat a present for himself. for two or three months puss went on in this way, every now and again taking to the king, as a present from his master, some game which he had caught. there came a day when he learned that the king intended to take his daughter, who was the most beautiful princess in the world, for an excursion along the river bank. 'if you will do as i tell you,' said puss to his master, 'your fortune is made. you have only to go and bathe in the river at the spot which i shall point out to you. leave the rest to me.' the marquis of carabas had no idea what plan was afoot, but did as the cat had directed. while he was bathing the king drew near, and puss at once began to cry out at the top of his voice: 'help! help! the marquis of carabas is drowning!' at these shouts the king put his head out of the carriage window. he recognised the cat who had so often brought him game, and bade his escort go speedily to the help of the marquis of carabas. while they were pulling the poor marquis out of the river, puss approached the carriage and explained to the king that while his master was bathing robbers had come and taken away his clothes, though he had cried 'stop, thief!' at the top of his voice. as a matter of fact, the rascal had hidden them under a big stone. the king at once commanded the keepers of his wardrobe to go and select a suit of his finest clothes for the marquis of carabas. the king received the marquis with many compliments, and as the fine clothes which the latter had just put on set off his good looks (for he was handsome and comely in appearance), the king's daughter found him very much to her liking. indeed, the marquis of carabas had not bestowed more than two or three respectful but sentimental glances upon her when she fell madly in love with him. the king invited him to enter the coach and join the party. [illustration: '_the cat went on ahead_'] delighted to see his plan so successfully launched, the cat went on ahead, and presently came upon some peasants who were mowing a field. 'listen, my good fellows,' said he; 'if you do not tell the king that the field which you are mowing belongs to the marquis of carabas, you will all be chopped up into little pieces like mince-meat.' [illustration: _puss in boots_] in due course the king asked the mowers to whom the field on which they were at work belonged. 'it is the property of the marquis of carabas,' they all cried with one voice, for the threat from puss had frightened them. 'you have inherited a fine estate,' the king remarked to carabas. 'as you see for yourself, sire,' replied the marquis; 'this is a meadow which never fails to yield an abundant crop each year.' still travelling ahead, the cat came upon some harvesters. 'listen, my good fellows,' said he; 'if you do not declare that every one of these fields belongs to the marquis of carabas, you will all be chopped up into little bits like mince-meat.' the king came by a moment later, and wished to know who was the owner of the fields in sight. 'it is the marquis of carabas,' cried the harvesters. at this the king was more pleased than ever with the marquis. preceding the coach on its journey, the cat made the same threat to all whom he met, and the king grew astonished at the great wealth of the marquis of carabas. finally master puss reached a splendid castle, which belonged to an ogre. he was the richest ogre that had ever been known, for all the lands through which the king had passed were part of the castle domain. the cat had taken care to find out who this ogre was, and what powers he possessed. he now asked for an interview, declaring that he was unwilling to pass so close to the castle without having the honour of paying his respects to the owner. the ogre received him as civilly as an ogre can, and bade him sit down. 'i have been told,' said puss, 'that you have the power to change yourself into any kind of animal--for example, that you can transform yourself into a lion or an elephant.' 'that is perfectly true,' said the ogre, curtly; 'and just to prove it you shall see me turn into a lion.' puss was so frightened on seeing a lion before him that he sprang on to the roof--not without difficulty and danger, for his boots were not meant for walking on the tiles. perceiving presently that the ogre had abandoned his transformation, puss descended, and owned to having been thoroughly frightened. 'i have also been told,' he added, 'but i can scarcely believe it, that you have the further power to take the shape of the smallest animals--for example, that you can change yourself into a rat or a mouse. i confess that to me it seems quite impossible.' 'impossible?' cried the ogre; 'you shall see!' and in the same moment he changed himself into a mouse, which began to run about the floor. no sooner did puss see it than he pounced on it and ate it. presently the king came along, and noticing the ogre's beautiful mansion desired to visit it. the cat heard the rumble of the coach as it crossed the castle drawbridge, and running out to the courtyard cried to the king: 'welcome, your majesty, to the castle of the marquis of carabas!' [illustration: '_puss became a personage of great importance_'] 'what's that?' cried the king. 'is this castle also yours, marquis? nothing could be finer than this courtyard and the buildings which i see all about. with your permission we will go inside and look round.' the marquis gave his hand to the young princess, and followed the king as he led the way up the staircase. entering a great hall they found there a magnificent collation. this had been prepared by the ogre for some friends who were to pay him a visit that very day. the latter had not dared to enter when they learned that the king was there. the king was now quite as charmed with the excellent qualities of the marquis of carabas as his daughter. the latter was completely captivated by him. noting the great wealth of which the marquis was evidently possessed, and having quaffed several cups of wine, he turned to his host, saying: 'it rests with you, marquis, whether you will be my son-in-law.' the marquis, bowing very low, accepted the honour which the king bestowed upon him. the very same day he married the princess. puss became a personage of great importance, and gave up hunting mice, except for amusement. [illustration: decoration] little tom thumb once upon a time there lived a wood-cutter and his wife, who had seven children, all boys. the eldest was only ten years old, and the youngest was seven. people were astonished that the wood-cutter had had so many children in so short a time, but the reason was that his wife delighted in children, and never had less than two at a time. they were very poor, and their seven children were a great tax on them, for none of them was yet able to earn his own living. and they were troubled also because the youngest was very delicate and could not speak a word. they mistook for stupidity what was in reality a mark of good sense. this youngest boy was very little. at his birth he was scarcely bigger than a man's thumb, and he was called in consequence 'little tom thumb.' the poor child was the scapegoat of the family, and got the blame for everything. all the same, he was the sharpest and shrewdest of the brothers, and if he spoke but little he listened much. there came a very bad year, when the famine was so great that these poor people resolved to get rid of their family. one evening, after the children had gone to bed, the wood-cutter was sitting in the chimney-corner with his wife. his heart was heavy with sorrow as he said to her: 'it must be plain enough to you that we can no longer feed our children. i cannot see them die of hunger before my eyes, and i have made up my mind to take them to-morrow to the forest and lose them there. it will be easy enough to manage, for while they are amusing themselves by collecting faggots we have only to disappear without their seeing us.' 'ah!' cried the wood-cutter's wife, 'do you mean to say you are capable of letting your own children be lost?' in vain did her husband remind her of their terrible poverty; she could not agree. she was poor, but she was their mother. in the end, however, reflecting what a grief it would be to see them die of hunger, she consented to the plan, and went weeping to bed. little tom thumb had heard all that was said. having discovered, when in bed, that serious talk was going on, he had got up softly, and had slipped under his father's stool in order to listen without being seen. he went back to bed, but did not sleep a wink for the rest of the night, thinking over what he had better do. in the morning he rose very early and went to the edge of a brook. there he filled his pockets with little white pebbles and came quickly home again. they all set out, and little tom thumb said not a word to his brothers of what he knew. they went into a forest which was so dense that when only ten paces apart they could not see each other. the wood-cutter set about his work, and the children began to collect twigs to make faggots. presently the father and mother, seeing them busy at their task, edged gradually away, and then hurried off in haste along a little narrow footpath. when the children found they were alone they began to cry and call out with all their might. little tom thumb let them cry, being confident that they would get back home again. for on the way he had dropped the little white stones which he carried in his pocket all along the path. 'don't be afraid, brothers,' he said presently; 'our parents have left us here, but i will take you home again. just follow me.' they fell in behind him, and he led them straight to their house by the same path which they had taken to the forest. at first they dared not go in, but placed themselves against the door, where they could hear everything their father and mother were saying. now the wood-cutter and his wife had no sooner reached home than the lord of the manor sent them a sum of ten crowns which had been owing from him for a long time, and of which they had given up hope. this put new life into them, for the poor creatures were dying of hunger. the wood-cutter sent his wife off to the butcher at once, and as it was such a long time since they had had anything to eat, she bought three times as much meat as a supper for two required. when they found themselves once more at table, the wood-cutter's wife began to lament. 'alas! where are our poor children now?' she said; 'they could make a good meal off what we have over. mind you, william, it was you who wished to lose them: i declared over and over again that we should repent it. what are they doing now in that forest? merciful heavens, perhaps the wolves have already eaten them! a monster you must be to lose your children in this way!' [illustration: '_a good dame opened the door_'] at last the wood-cutter lost patience, for she repeated more than twenty times that he would repent it, and that she had told him so. he threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. it was not that the wood-cutter was less grieved than his wife, but she browbeat him, and he was of the same opinion as many other people, who like a woman to have the knack of saying the right thing, but not the trick of being always in the right. 'alas!' cried the wood-cutter's wife, bursting into tears, 'where are now my children, my poor children?' she said it once so loud that the children at the door heard it plainly. together they all called out: 'here we are! here we are!' she rushed to open the door for them, and exclaimed, as she embraced them: 'how glad i am to see you again, dear children! you must be very tired and very hungry. and you, peterkin, how muddy you are--come and let me wash you!' this peterkin was her eldest son. she loved him more than all the others because he was inclined to be red-headed, and she herself was rather red. they sat down at the table and ate with an appetite which it did their parents good to see. they all talked at once, as they recounted the fears they had felt in the forest. the good souls were delighted to have their children with them again, and the pleasure continued as long as the ten crowns lasted. but when the money was all spent they relapsed into their former sadness. they again resolved to lose the children, and to lead them much further away than they had done the first time, so as to do the job thoroughly. but though they were careful not to speak openly about it, their conversation did not escape little tom thumb, who made up his mind to get out of the situation as he had done on the former occasion. but though he got up early to go and collect his little stones, he found the door of the house doubly locked, and he could not carry out his plan. he could not think what to do until the wood-cutter's wife gave them each a piece of bread for breakfast. then it occurred to him to use the bread in place of the stones, by throwing crumbs along the path which they took, and he tucked it tight in his pocket. their parents led them into the thickest and darkest part of the forest, and as soon as they were there slipped away by a side-path and left them. this did not much trouble little tom thumb, for he believed he could easily find the way back by means of the bread which he had scattered wherever he walked. but to his dismay he could not discover a single crumb. the birds had come along and eaten it all. they were in sore trouble now, for with every step they strayed further, and became more and more entangled in the forest. night came on and a terrific wind arose, which filled them with dreadful alarm. on every side they seemed to hear nothing but the howling of wolves which were coming to eat them up. they dared not speak or move. in addition it began to rain so heavily that they were soaked to the skin. at every step they tripped and fell on the wet ground, getting up again covered with mud, not knowing what to do with their hands. little tom thumb climbed to the top of a tree, in an endeavour to see something. looking all about him he espied, far away on the other side of the forest, a little light like that of a candle. he got down from the tree, and was terribly disappointed to find that when he was on the ground he could see nothing at all. after they had walked some distance in the direction of the light, however, he caught a glimpse of it again as they were nearing the edge of the forest. at last they reached the house where the light was burning, but not without much anxiety, for every time they had to go down into a hollow they lost sight of it. they knocked at the door, and a good dame opened to them. she asked them what they wanted. little tom thumb explained that they were poor children who had lost their way in the forest, and begged her, for pity's sake, to give them a night's lodging. noticing what bonny children they all were, the woman began to cry. 'alas, my poor little dears!' she said; 'you do not know the place you have come to! have you not heard that this is the house of an ogre who eats little children?' 'alas, madam!' answered little tom thumb, trembling like all the rest of his brothers, 'what shall we do? one thing is very certain: if you do not take us in, the wolves of the forest will devour us this very night, and that being so we should prefer to be eaten by your husband. perhaps he may take pity on us, if you will plead for us.' the ogre's wife, thinking she might be able to hide them from her husband till the next morning, allowed them to come in, and put them to warm near a huge fire, where a whole sheep was cooking on the spit for the ogre's supper. just as they were beginning to get warm they heard two or three great bangs at the door. the ogre had returned. his wife hid them quickly under the bed and ran to open the door. the first thing the ogre did was to ask whether supper was ready and the wine opened. then without ado he sat down to table. blood was still dripping from the sheep, but it seemed all the better to him for that. he sniffed to right and left, declaring that he could smell fresh flesh. 'indeed!' said his wife. 'it must be the calf which i have just dressed that you smell.' '_i smell fresh flesh_, i tell you,' shouted the ogre, eyeing his wife askance; 'and there is something going on here which i do not understand.' with these words he got up from the table and went straight to the bed. 'aha!' said he; 'so this is the way you deceive me, wicked woman that you are! i have a very great mind to eat you too! it's lucky for you that you are old and tough! i am expecting three ogre friends of mine to pay me a visit in the next few days, and here is a tasty dish which will just come in nicely for them!' one after another he dragged the children out from under the bed. [illustration: '_he could smell fresh flesh_'] the poor things threw themselves on their knees, imploring mercy; but they had to deal with the most cruel of all ogres. far from pitying them, he was already devouring them with his eyes, and repeating to his wife that when cooked with a good sauce they would make most dainty morsels. off he went to get a large knife, which he sharpened, as he drew near the poor children, on a long stone in his left hand. he had already seized one of them when his wife called out to him. 'what do you want to do it now for?' she said; 'will it not be time enough to-morrow?' 'hold your tongue,' replied the ogre; 'they will be all the more tender.' 'but you have such a lot of meat,' rejoined his wife; 'look, there are a calf, two sheep, and half a pig.' 'you are right,' said the ogre; 'give them a good supper to fatten them up, and take them to bed.' the good woman was overjoyed and brought them a splendid supper; but the poor little wretches were so cowed with fright that they could not eat. as for the ogre, he went back to his drinking, very pleased to have such good entertainment for his friends. he drank a dozen cups more than usual, and was obliged to go off to bed early, for the wine had gone somewhat to his head. now the ogre had seven daughters who as yet were only children. these little ogresses all had the most lovely complexions, for, like their father, they ate fresh meat. but they had little round grey eyes, crooked noses, and very large mouths, with long and exceedingly sharp teeth, set far apart. they were not so very wicked at present, but they showed great promise, for already they were in the habit of killing little children to suck their blood. they had gone to bed early, and were all seven in a great bed, each with a crown of gold upon her head. in the same room there was another bed, equally large. into this the ogre's wife put the seven little boys, and then went to sleep herself beside her husband. little tom thumb was fearful lest the ogre should suddenly regret that he had not cut the throats of himself and his brothers the evening before. having noticed that the ogre's daughters all had golden crowns upon their heads, he got up in the middle of the night and softly placed his own cap and those of his brothers on their heads. before doing so, he carefully removed the crowns of gold, putting them on his own and his brothers' heads. in this way, if the ogre were to feel like slaughtering them that night he would mistake the girls for the boys, and _vice versa_. things fell out just as he had anticipated. the ogre, waking up at midnight, regretted that he had postponed till the morrow what he could have done overnight. jumping briskly out of bed, he seized his knife, crying: 'now then, let's see how the little rascals are; we won't make the same mistake twice!' he groped his way up to his daughters' room, and approached the bed in which were the seven little boys. all were sleeping, with the exception of little tom thumb, who was numb with fear when he felt the ogre's hand, as it touched the head of each brother in turn, reach his own. 'upon my word,' said the ogre, as he felt the golden crowns; 'a nice job i was going to make of it! it is very evident that i drank a little too much last night!' forthwith he went to the bed where his daughters were, and here he felt the little boys' caps. 'aha, here are the little scamps!' he cried; 'now for a smart bit of work!' [illustration: '_he set off over the countryside_'] with these words, and without a moment's hesitation, he cut the throats of his seven daughters, and well satisfied with his work went back to bed beside his wife. no sooner did little tom thumb hear him snoring than he woke up his brothers, bidding them dress quickly and follow him. they crept quietly down to the garden, and jumped from the wall. all through the night they ran in haste and terror, without the least idea of where they were going. when the ogre woke up he said to his wife: 'go upstairs and dress those little rascals who were here last night.' the ogre's wife was astonished at her husband's kindness, never doubting that he meant her to go and put on their clothes. she went upstairs, and was horrified to discover her seven daughters bathed in blood, with their throats cut. she fell at once into a swoon, which is the way of most women in similar circumstances. the ogre, thinking his wife was very long in carrying out his orders, went up to help her, and was no less astounded than his wife at the terrible spectacle which confronted him. 'what's this i have done?' he exclaimed. 'i will be revenged on the wretches, and quickly, too!' he threw a jugful of water over his wife's face, and having brought her round ordered her to fetch his seven-league boots, so that he might overtake the children. he set off over the countryside, and strode far and wide until he came to the road along which the poor children were travelling. they were not more than a few yards from their home when they saw the ogre striding from hill-top to hill-top, and stepping over rivers as though they were merely tiny streams. little tom thumb espied near at hand a cave in some rocks. in this he hid his brothers, and himself followed them in, while continuing to keep a watchful eye upon the movements of the ogre. now the ogre was feeling very tired after so much fruitless marching (for seven-league boots are very fatiguing to their wearer), and felt like taking a little rest. as it happened, he went and sat down on the very rock beneath which the little boys were hiding. overcome with weariness, he had not sat there long before he fell asleep and began to snore so terribly that the poor children were as frightened as when he had held his great knife to their throats. little tom thumb was not so alarmed. he told his brothers to flee at once to their home while the ogre was still sleeping soundly, and not to worry about him. they took his advice and ran quickly home. little tom thumb now approached the ogre and gently pulled off his boots, which he at once donned himself. the boots were very heavy and very large, but being enchanted boots they had the faculty of growing larger or smaller according to the leg they had to suit. consequently they always fitted as though they had been made for the wearer. he went straight to the ogre's house, where he found the ogre's wife weeping over her murdered daughters. [illustration: '_laden with all the ogre's wealth_'] 'your husband,' said little tom thumb, 'is in great danger, for he has been captured by a gang of thieves, and the latter have sworn to kill him if he does not hand over all his gold and silver. just as they had the dagger at his throat, he caught sight of me and begged me to come to you and thus rescue him from his terrible plight. you are to give me everything of value which he possesses, without keeping back a thing, otherwise he will be slain without mercy. as the matter is urgent he wished me to wear his seven-league boots, to save time, and also to prove to you that i am no impostor.' the ogre's wife, in great alarm, gave him immediately all that she had, for although this was an ogre who devoured little children, he was by no means a bad husband. little tom thumb, laden with all the ogre's wealth, forthwith repaired to his father's house, where he was received with great joy. * * * * * many people do not agree about this last adventure, and pretend that little tom thumb never committed this theft from the ogre, and only took the seven-league boots, about which he had no compunction, since they were only used by the ogre for catching little children. these folks assert that they are in a position to know, having been guests at the wood-cutter's cottage. they further say that when little tom thumb had put on the ogre's boots, he went off to the court, where he knew there was great anxiety concerning the result of a battle which was being fought by an army two hundred leagues away. they say that he went to the king and undertook, if desired, to bring news of the army before the day was out; and that the king promised him a large sum of money if he could carry out his project. little tom thumb brought news that very night, and this first errand having brought him into notice, he made as much money as he wished. for not only did the king pay him handsomely to carry orders to the army, but many ladies at the court gave him anything he asked to get them news of their lovers, and this was his greatest source of income. he was occasionally entrusted by wives with letters to their husbands, but they paid him so badly, and this branch of the business brought him in so little, that he did not even bother to reckon what he made from it. after acting as courier for some time, and amassing great wealth thereby, little tom thumb returned to his father's house, and was there greeted with the greatest joy imaginable. he made all his family comfortable, buying newly-created positions for his father and brothers. in this way he set them all up, not forgetting at the same time to look well after himself. the fairies once upon a time there lived a widow with two daughters. the elder was often mistaken for her mother, so like her was she both in nature and in looks; parent and child being so disagreeable and arrogant that no one could live with them. the younger girl, who took after her father in the gentleness and sweetness of her disposition, was also one of the prettiest girls imaginable. the mother doted on the elder daughter--naturally enough, since she resembled her so closely--and disliked the younger one as intensely. she made the latter live in the kitchen and work hard from morning till night. one of the poor child's many duties was to go twice a day and draw water from a spring a good half-mile away, bringing it back in a large pitcher. one day when she was at the spring an old woman came up and begged for a drink. 'why, certainly, good mother,' the pretty lass replied. rinsing her pitcher, she drew some water from the cleanest part of the spring and handed it to the dame, lifting up the jug so that she might drink the more easily. now this old woman was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor village dame to see just how far the girl's good nature would go. 'you are so pretty,' she said, when she had finished drinking, 'and so polite, that i am determined to bestow a gift upon you. this is the boon i grant you: with every word that you utter there shall fall from your mouth either a flower or a precious stone.' when the girl reached home she was scolded by her mother for being so long in coming back from the spring. 'i am sorry to have been so long, mother,' said the poor child. as she spoke these words there fell from her mouth three roses, three pearls, and three diamonds. 'what's this?' cried her mother; 'did i see pearls and diamonds dropping out of your mouth? what does this mean, dear daughter?' (this was the first time she had ever addressed her daughter affectionately.) the poor child told a simple tale of what had happened, and in speaking scattered diamonds right and left. 'really,' said her mother, 'i must send my own child there. come here, fanchon; look what comes out of your sister's mouth whenever she speaks! wouldn't you like to be able to do the same? all you have to do is to go and draw some water at the spring, and when a poor woman asks you for a drink, give it her very nicely.' 'oh, indeed!' replied the ill-mannered girl; 'don't you wish you may see me going there!' 'i tell you that you are to go,' said her mother, 'and to go this instant.' [illustration: '_lifting up the jug so that she might drink the more easily_'] very sulkily the girl went off, taking with her the best silver flagon in the house. no sooner had she reached the spring than she saw a lady, magnificently attired, who came towards her from the forest, and asked for a drink. this was the same fairy who had appeared to her sister, masquerading now as a princess in order to see how far this girl's ill-nature would carry her. 'do you think i have come here just to get you a drink?' said the loutish damsel, arrogantly. 'i suppose you think i brought a silver flagon here specially for that purpose--it's so likely, isn't it? drink from the spring, if you want to!' 'you are not very polite,' said the fairy, displaying no sign of anger. 'well, in return for your lack of courtesy i decree that for every word you utter a snake or a toad shall drop out of your mouth.' the moment her mother caught sight of her coming back she cried out, 'well, daughter?' 'well, mother?' replied the rude girl. as she spoke a viper and a toad were spat out of her mouth. 'gracious heavens!' cried her mother; 'what do i see? her sister is the cause of this, and i will make her pay for it!' off she ran to thrash the poor child, but the latter fled away and hid in the forest near by. the king's son met her on his way home from hunting, and noticing how pretty she was inquired what she was doing all alone, and what she was weeping about. 'alas, sir,' she cried; 'my mother has driven me from home!' as she spoke the prince saw four or five pearls and as many diamonds fall from her mouth. he begged her to tell him how this came about, and she told him the whole story. the king's son fell in love with her, and reflecting that such a gift as had been bestowed upon her was worth more than any dowry which another maiden might bring him, he took her to the palace of his royal father, and there married her. as for the sister, she made herself so hateful that even her mother drove her out of the house. nowhere could the wretched girl find any one who would take her in, and at last she lay down in the forest and died. ricky of the tuft once upon a time there was a queen who bore a son so ugly and misshapen that for some time it was doubtful if he would have human form at all. but a fairy who was present at his birth promised that he should have plenty of brains, and added that by virtue of the gift which she had just bestowed upon him he would be able to impart to the person whom he should love best the same degree of intelligence which he possessed himself. this somewhat consoled the poor queen, who was greatly disappointed at having brought into the world such a hideous brat. and indeed, no sooner did the child begin to speak than his sayings proved to be full of shrewdness, while all that he did was somehow so clever that he charmed every one. i forgot to mention that when he was born he had a little tuft of hair upon his head. for this reason he was called ricky of the tuft, ricky being his family name. some seven or eight years later the queen of a neighbouring kingdom gave birth to twin daughters. the first one to come into the world was more beautiful than the dawn, and the queen was so overjoyed that it was feared her great excitement might do her some harm. the same fairy who had assisted at the birth of ricky of the tuft was present, and, in order to moderate the transports of the queen she declared that this little princess would have no sense at all, and would be as stupid as she was beautiful. the queen was deeply mortified, and a moment or two later her chagrin became greater still, for the second daughter proved to be extremely ugly. 'do not be distressed, madam,' said the fairy; 'your daughter shall be recompensed in another way. she shall have so much good sense that her lack of beauty will scarcely be noticed.' 'may heaven grant it!' said the queen; 'but is there no means by which the elder, who is so beautiful, can be endowed with some intelligence?' 'in the matter of brains i can do nothing for her, madam,' said the fairy, 'but as regards beauty i can do a great deal. as there is nothing i would not do to please you, i will bestow upon her the power of making beautiful any person who shall greatly please her.' as the two princesses grew up their perfections increased, and everywhere the beauty of the elder and the wit of the younger were the subject of common talk. it is equally true that their defects also increased as they became older. the younger grew uglier every minute, and the elder daily became more stupid. either she answered nothing at all when spoken to, or replied with some idiotic remark. at the same time she was so awkward that she could not set four china vases on the mantelpiece without breaking one of them, nor drink a glass of water without spilling half of it over her clothes. [illustration: '_she could not set four china vases on the mantelpiece without breaking one of them_'] now although the elder girl possessed the great advantage which beauty always confers upon youth, she was nevertheless outshone in almost all company by her younger sister. at first every one gathered round the beauty to see and admire her, but very soon they were all attracted by the graceful and easy conversation of the clever one. in a very short time the elder girl would be left entirely alone, while everybody clustered round her sister. [illustration: '_graceful and easy conversation_'] the elder princess was not so stupid that she was not aware of this, and she would willingly have surrendered all her beauty for half her sister's cleverness. sometimes she was ready to die of grief, for the queen, though a sensible woman, could not refrain from occasionally reproaching her with her stupidity. the princess had retired one day to a wood to bemoan her misfortune, when she saw approaching her an ugly little man, of very disagreeable appearance, but clad in magnificent attire. this was the young prince ricky of the tuft. he had fallen in love with her portrait, which was everywhere to be seen, and had left his father's kingdom in order to have the pleasure of seeing and talking to her. delighted to meet her thus alone, he approached with every mark of respect and politeness. but while he paid her the usual compliments he noticed that she was plunged in melancholy. 'i cannot understand, madam,' he said, 'how any one with your beauty can be so sad as you appear. i can boast of having seen many fair ladies, and i declare that none of them could compare in beauty with you.' 'it is very kind of you to say so, sir,' answered the princess; and stopped there, at a loss what to say further. 'beauty,' said ricky, 'is of such great advantage that everything else can be disregarded; and i do not see that the possessor of it can have anything much to grieve about.' to this the princess replied: 'i would rather be as plain as you are and have some sense, than be as beautiful as i am and at the same time stupid.' 'nothing more clearly displays good sense, madam, than a belief that one is not possessed of it. it follows, therefore, that the more one has, the more one fears it to be wanting.' 'i am not sure about that,' said the princess; 'but i know only too well that i am very stupid, and this is the reason of the misery which is nearly killing me.' 'if that is all that troubles you, madam, i can easily put an end to your suffering.' 'how will you manage that?' said the princess. 'i am able, madam,' said ricky of the tuft, 'to bestow as much good sense as it is possible to possess on the person whom i love the most. you are that person, and it therefore rests with you to decide whether you will acquire so much intelligence. the only condition is that you shall consent to marry me.' the princess was dumbfounded, and remained silent. 'i can see,' pursued ricky, 'that this suggestion perplexes you, and i am not surprised. but i will give you a whole year to make up your mind to it.' the princess had so little sense, and at the same time desired it so ardently, that she persuaded herself the end of this year would never come. so she accepted the offer which had been made to her. no sooner had she given her word to ricky that she would marry him within one year from that very day, than she felt a complete change come over her. she found herself able to say all that she wished with the greatest ease, and to say it in an elegant, finished, and natural manner. she at once engaged ricky in a brilliant and lengthy conversation, holding her own so well that ricky feared he had given her a larger share of sense than he had retained for himself. on her return to the palace amazement reigned throughout the court at such a sudden and extraordinary change. whereas formerly they had been accustomed to hear her give vent to silly, pert remarks, they now heard her express herself sensibly and very wittily. the entire court was overjoyed. the only person not too pleased was the younger sister, for now that she had no longer the advantage over the elder in wit, she seemed nothing but a little fright in comparison. the king himself often took her advice, and several times held his councils in her apartment. the news of this change spread abroad, and the princes of the neighbouring kingdoms made many attempts to captivate her. almost all asked her in marriage. but she found none with enough sense, and so she listened to all without promising herself to any. at last came one who was so powerful, so rich, so witty, and so handsome, that she could not help being somewhat attracted by him. her father noticed this, and told her she could make her own choice of a husband: she had only to declare herself. now the more sense one has, the more difficult it is to make up one's mind in an affair of this kind. after thanking her father, therefore, she asked for a little time to think it over. in order to ponder quietly what she had better do she went to walk in a wood--the very one, as it happened, where she encountered ricky of the tuft. while she walked, deep in thought, she heard beneath her feet a thudding sound, as though many people were running busily to and fro. listening more attentively she heard voices. 'bring me that boiler,' said one; then another--'put some wood on that fire!' at that moment the ground opened, and she saw below what appeared to be a large kitchen full of cooks and scullions, and all the train of attendants which the preparation of a great banquet involves. a gang of some twenty or thirty spit-turners emerged and took up their positions round a very long table in a path in the wood. they all wore their cook's caps on one side, and with their basting implements in their hands they kept time together as they worked, to the lilt of a melodious song. the princess was astonished by this spectacle, and asked for whom their work was being done. 'for prince ricky of the tuft, madam,' said the foreman of the gang; 'his wedding is to-morrow.' at this the princess was more surprised than ever. in a flash she remembered that it was a year to the very day since she had promised to marry prince ricky of the tuft, and was taken aback by the recollection. the reason she had forgotten was that when she made the promise she was still without sense, and with the acquisition of that intelligence which the prince had bestowed upon her, all memory of her former stupidities had been blotted out. she had not gone another thirty paces when ricky of the tuft appeared before her, gallant and resplendent, like a prince upon his wedding day. 'as you see, madam,' he said, 'i keep my word to the minute. i do not doubt that you have come to keep yours, and by giving me your hand to make me the happiest of men.' 'i will be frank with you,' replied the princess. 'i have not yet made up my mind on the point, and i am afraid i shall never be able to take the decision you desire.' 'you astonish me, madam,' said ricky of the tuft. 'i can well believe it,' said the princess, 'and undoubtedly, if i had to deal with a clown, or a man who lacked good sense, i should feel myself very awkwardly situated. "a princess must keep her word," he would say, "and you must marry me because you promised to!" but i am speaking to a man of the world, of the greatest good sense, and i am sure that he will listen to reason. as you are aware, i could not make up my mind to marry you even when i was entirely without sense; how can you expect that to-day, possessing the intelligence you bestowed on me, which makes me still more difficult to please than formerly, i should take a decision which i could not take then? if you wished so much to marry me, you were very wrong to relieve me of my stupidity, and to let me see more clearly than i did.' 'if a man who lacked good sense,' replied ricky of the tuft, 'would be justified, as you have just said, in reproaching you for breaking your word, why do you expect, madam, that i should act differently where the happiness of my whole life is at stake? is it reasonable that people who have sense should be treated worse than those who have none? would you maintain that for a moment--you, who so markedly have sense, and desired so ardently to have it? but, pardon me, let us get to the facts. with the exception of my ugliness, is there anything about me which displeases you? are you dissatisfied with my breeding, my brains, my disposition, or my manners?' 'in no way,' replied the princess; 'i like exceedingly all that you have displayed of the qualities you mention.' 'in that case,' said ricky of the tuft, 'happiness will be mine, for it lies in your power to make me the most attractive of men.' 'how can that be done?' asked the princess. [illustration: _ricky of the tuft_] 'it will happen of itself,' replied ricky of the tuft, 'if you love me well enough to wish that it be so. to remove your doubts, madam, let me tell you that the same fairy who on the day of my birth bestowed upon me the power of endowing with intelligence the woman of my choice, gave to you also the power of endowing with beauty the man whom you should love, and on whom you should wish to confer this favour.' 'if that is so,' said the princess, 'i wish with all my heart that you may become the handsomest and most attractive prince in the world, and i give you without reserve the boon which it is mine to bestow.' no sooner had the princess uttered these words than ricky of the tuft appeared before her eyes as the handsomest, most graceful and attractive man that she had ever set eyes on. some people assert that this was not the work of fairy enchantment, but that love alone brought about the transformation. they say that the princess, as she mused upon her lover's constancy, upon his good sense, and his many admirable qualities of heart and head, grew blind to the deformity of his body and the ugliness of his face; that his hump back seemed no more than was natural in a man who could make the courtliest of bows, and that the dreadful limp which had formerly distressed her now betokened nothing more than a certain diffidence and charming deference of manner. they say further that she found his eyes shine all the brighter for their squint, and that this defect in them was to her but a sign of passionate love; while his great red nose she found nought but martial and heroic. however that may be, the princess promised to marry him on the spot, provided only that he could obtain the consent of her royal father. the king knew ricky of the tuft to be a prince both wise and witty, and on learning of his daughter's regard for him, he accepted him with pleasure as a son-in-law. the wedding took place upon the morrow, just as ricky of the tuft had foreseen, and in accordance with the arrangements he had long ago put in train. cinderella once upon a time there was a worthy man who married for his second wife the haughtiest, proudest woman that had ever been seen. she had two daughters, who possessed their mother's temper and resembled her in everything. her husband, on the other hand, had a young daughter, who was of an exceptionally sweet and gentle nature. she got this from her mother, who had been the nicest person in the world. the wedding was no sooner over than the stepmother began to display her bad temper. she could not endure the excellent qualities of this young girl, for they made her own daughters appear more hateful than ever. she thrust upon her all the meanest tasks about the house. it was she who had to clean the plates and the stairs, and sweep out the rooms of the mistress of the house and her daughters. she slept on a wretched mattress in a garret at the top of the house, while the sisters had rooms with parquet flooring, and beds of the most fashionable style, with mirrors in which they could see themselves from top to toe. the poor girl endured everything patiently, not daring to complain to her father. the latter would have scolded her, because he was entirely ruled by his wife. when she had finished her work she used to sit amongst the cinders in the corner of the chimney, and it was from this habit that she came to be commonly known as cinder-slut. the younger of the two sisters, who was not quite so spiteful as the elder, called her cinderella. but her wretched clothes did not prevent cinderella from being a hundred times more beautiful than her sisters, for all their resplendent garments. it happened that the king's son gave a ball, and he invited all persons of high degree. the two young ladies were invited amongst others, for they cut a considerable figure in the country. not a little pleased were they, and the question of what clothes and what mode of dressing the hair would become them best took up all their time. and all this meant fresh trouble for cinderella, for it was she who went over her sisters' linen and ironed their ruffles. they could talk of nothing else but the fashions in clothes. 'for my part,' said the elder, 'i shall wear my dress of red velvet, with the honiton lace.' 'i have only my everyday petticoat,' said the younger, 'but to make up for it i shall wear my cloak with the golden flowers and my necklace of diamonds, which are not so bad.' they sent for a good hairdresser to arrange their double-frilled caps, and bought patches at the best shop. they summoned cinderella and asked her advice, for she had good taste. cinderella gave them the best possible suggestions, and even offered to dress their hair, to which they gladly agreed. while she was thus occupied they said: 'cinderella, would you not like to go to the ball?' 'ah, but you fine young ladies are laughing at me. it would be no place for me.' [illustration: '_the haughtiest, proudest woman that had ever been seen_'] 'that is very true, people would laugh to see a cinder-slut in the ballroom.' any one else but cinderella would have done their hair amiss, but she was good-natured, and she finished them off to perfection. they were so excited in their glee that for nearly two days they ate nothing. they broke more than a dozen laces through drawing their stays tight in order to make their waists more slender, and they were perpetually in front of a mirror. at last the happy day arrived. away they went, cinderella watching them as long as she could keep them in sight. when she could no longer see them she began to cry. her godmother found her in tears, and asked what was troubling her. 'i should like--i should like----' she was crying so bitterly that she could not finish the sentence. said her godmother, who was a fairy: 'you would like to go to the ball, would you not?' 'ah, yes,' said cinderella, sighing. 'well, well,' said her godmother, 'promise to be a good girl and i will arrange for you to go.' she took cinderella into her room and said: 'go into the garden and bring me a pumpkin.' cinderella went at once and gathered the finest that she could find. this she brought to her godmother, wondering how a pumpkin could help in taking her to the ball. her godmother scooped it out, and when only the rind was left, struck it with her wand. instantly the pumpkin was changed into a beautiful coach, gilded all over. then she went and looked in the mouse-trap, where she found six mice all alive. she told cinderella to lift the door of the mouse-trap a little, and as each mouse came out she gave it a tap with her wand, whereupon it was transformed into a fine horse. so that here was a fine team of six dappled mouse-grey horses. but she was puzzled to know how to provide a coachman. 'i will go and see,' said cinderella, 'if there is not a rat in the rat-trap. we could make a coachman of him.' 'quite right,' said her godmother, 'go and see.' cinderella brought in the rat-trap, which contained three big rats. the fairy chose one specially on account of his elegant whiskers. as soon as she had touched him he turned into a fat coachman with the finest moustachios that ever were seen. 'now go into the garden and bring me the six lizards which you will find behind the water-butt.' no sooner had they been brought than the godmother turned them into six lackeys, who at once climbed up behind the coach in their braided liveries, and hung on there as if they had never done anything else all their lives. then said the fairy godmother: 'well, there you have the means of going to the ball. are you satisfied?' 'oh, yes, but am i to go like this in my ugly clothes?' her godmother merely touched her with her wand, and on the instant her clothes were changed into garments of gold and silver cloth, bedecked with jewels. after that her godmother gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the world. [illustration: '_her godmother found her in tears_'] thus altered, she entered the coach. her godmother bade her not to stay beyond midnight whatever happened, warning her that if she remained at the ball a moment longer, her coach would again become a pumpkin, her horses mice, and her lackeys lizards, while her old clothes would reappear upon her once more. she promised her godmother that she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight, and away she went, beside herself with delight. [illustration: '_away she went_'] the king's son, when he was told of the arrival of a great princess whom nobody knew, went forth to receive her. he handed her down from the coach, and led her into the hall where the company was assembled. at once there fell a great silence. the dancers stopped, the violins played no more, so rapt was the attention which everybody bestowed upon the superb beauty of the unknown guest. everywhere could be heard in confused whispers: 'oh, how beautiful she is!' the king, old man as he was, could not take his eyes off her, and whispered to the queen that it was many a long day since he had seen any one so beautiful and charming. all the ladies were eager to scrutinise her clothes and the dressing of her hair, being determined to copy them on the morrow, provided they could find materials so fine, and tailors so clever. the king's son placed her in the seat of honour, and at once begged the privilege of being her partner in a dance. such was the grace with which she danced that the admiration of all was increased. a magnificent supper was served, but the young prince could eat nothing, so taken up was he with watching her. she went and sat beside her sisters, and bestowed numberless attentions upon them. she made them share with her the oranges and lemons which the king had given her--greatly to their astonishment, for they did not recognise her. while they were talking, cinderella heard the clock strike a quarter to twelve. she at once made a profound curtsey to the company, and departed as quickly as she could. as soon as she was home again she sought out her godmother, and having thanked her, declared that she wished to go upon the morrow once more to the ball, because the king's son had invited her. while she was busy telling her godmother all that had happened at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door. cinderella let them in. 'what a long time you have been in coming!' she declared, rubbing her eyes and stretching herself as if she had only just awakened. in real truth she had not for a moment wished to sleep since they had left. [illustration: '_she rose and fled as nimbly as a fawn_'] 'if you had been at the ball,' said one of the sisters, 'you would not be feeling weary. there came a most beautiful princess, the most beautiful that has ever been seen, and she bestowed numberless attentions upon us, and gave us her oranges and lemons.' cinderella was overjoyed. she asked them the name of the princess, but they replied that no one knew it, and that the king's son was so distressed that he would give anything in the world to know who she was. cinderella smiled, and said she must have been beautiful indeed. 'oh, how lucky you are. could i not manage to see her? oh, please, javotte, lend me the yellow dress which you wear every day.' 'indeed!' said javotte, 'that is a fine idea. lend my dress to a grubby cinder-slut like you--you must think me mad!' cinderella had expected this refusal. she was in no way upset, for she would have been very greatly embarrassed had her sister been willing to lend the dress. the next day the two sisters went to the ball, and so did cinderella, even more splendidly attired than the first time. the king's son was always at her elbow, and paid her endless compliments. the young girl enjoyed herself so much that she forgot her godmother's bidding completely, and when the first stroke of midnight fell upon her ears, she thought it was no more than eleven o'clock. she rose and fled as nimbly as a fawn. the prince followed her, but could not catch her. she let fall one of her glass slippers, however, and this the prince picked up with tender care. when cinderella reached home she was out of breath, without coach, without lackeys, and in her shabby clothes. nothing remained of all her splendid clothes save one of the little slippers, the fellow to the one which she had let fall. inquiries were made of the palace doorkeepers as to whether they had seen a princess go out, but they declared they had seen no one leave except a young girl, very ill-clad, who looked more like a peasant than a young lady. when her two sisters returned from the ball, cinderella asked them if they had again enjoyed themselves, and if the beautiful lady had been there. they told her that she was present, but had fled away when midnight sounded, and in such haste that she had let fall one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest thing in the world. they added that the king's son, who picked it up, had done nothing but gaze at it for the rest of the ball, from which it was plain that he was deeply in love with its beautiful owner. they spoke the truth. a few days later, the king's son caused a proclamation to be made by trumpeters, that he would take for wife the owner of the foot which the slipper would fit. they tried it first on the princesses, then on the duchesses and the whole of the court, but in vain. presently they brought it to the home of the two sisters, who did all they could to squeeze a foot into the slipper. this, however, they could not manage. cinderella was looking on and recognised her slipper: 'let me see,' she cried, laughingly, 'if it will not fit me.' [illustration: '_they tried it first on the princesses_'] her sisters burst out laughing, and began to gibe at her, but the equerry who was trying on the slipper looked closely at cinderella. observing that she was very beautiful he declared that the claim was quite a fair one, and that his orders were to try the slipper on every maiden. he bade cinderella sit down, and on putting the slipper to her little foot he perceived that the latter slid in without trouble, and was moulded to its shape like wax. great was the astonishment of the two sisters at this, and greater still when cinderella drew from her pocket the other little slipper. this she likewise drew on. at that very moment her godmother appeared on the scene. she gave a tap with her wand to cinderella's clothes, and transformed them into a dress even more magnificent than her previous ones. the two sisters recognised her for the beautiful person whom they had seen at the ball, and threw themselves at her feet, begging her pardon for all the ill-treatment she had suffered at their hands. cinderella raised them, and declaring as she embraced them that she pardoned them with all her heart, bade them to love her well in future. she was taken to the palace of the young prince in all her new array. he found her more beautiful than ever, and was married to her a few days afterwards. cinderella was as good as she was beautiful. she set aside apartments in the palace for her two sisters, and married them the very same day to two gentlemen of high rank about the court. little red riding hood once upon a time there was a little village girl, the prettiest that had ever been seen. her mother doted on her. her grandmother was even fonder, and made her a little red hood, which became her so well that everywhere she went by the name of little red riding hood. one day her mother, who had just made and baked some cakes, said to her: 'go and see how your grandmother is, for i have been told that she is ill. take her a cake and this little pot of butter.' little red riding hood set off at once for the house of her grandmother, who lived in another village. on her way through a wood she met old father wolf. he would have very much liked to eat her, but dared not do so on account of some wood-cutters who were in the forest. he asked her where she was going. the poor child, not knowing that it was dangerous to stop and listen to a wolf, said: 'i am going to see my grandmother, and am taking her a cake and a pot of butter which my mother has sent to her.' 'does she live far away?' asked the wolf. 'oh yes,' replied little red riding hood; 'it is yonder by the mill which you can see right below there, and it is the first house in the village.' [illustration: _little red riding hood_] 'well now,' said the wolf, 'i think i shall go and see her too. i will go by this path, and you by that path, and we will see who gets there first.' [illustration: '_she met old father wolf_'] the wolf set off running with all his might by the shorter road, and the little girl continued on her way by the longer road. as she went she amused herself by gathering nuts, running after the butterflies, and making nosegays of the wild flowers which she found. the wolf was not long in reaching the grandmother's house. he knocked. _toc toc._ 'who is there?' 'it is your little daughter, red riding hood,' said the wolf, disguising his voice, 'and i bring you a cake and a little pot of butter as a present from my mother.' [illustration: '_making nosegays of the wild flowers_'] the worthy grandmother was in bed, not being very well, and cried out to him: 'pull out the peg and the latch will fall.' the wolf drew out the peg and the door flew open. then he sprang upon the poor old lady and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been more than three days without food. after that he shut the door, lay down in the grandmother's bed, and waited for little red riding hood. presently she came and knocked. _toc toc._ 'who is there?' now little red riding hood on hearing the wolf's gruff voice was at first frightened, but thinking that her grandmother had a bad cold, she replied: 'it is your little daughter, red riding hood, and i bring you a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother.' [illustration: '_come up on the bed with me_'] softening his voice, the wolf called out to her: 'pull out the peg and the latch will fall.' little red riding hood drew out the peg and the door flew open. when he saw her enter, the wolf hid himself in the bed beneath the counterpane. 'put the cake and the little pot of butter on the bin,' he said, 'and come up on the bed with me.' little red riding hood took off her clothes, but when she climbed up on the bed she was astonished to see how her grandmother looked in her nightgown. 'grandmother dear!' she exclaimed, 'what big arms you have!' 'the better to embrace you, my child!' 'grandmother dear, what big legs you have!' 'the better to run with, my child!' 'grandmother dear, what big ears you have!' 'the better to hear with, my child!' 'grandmother dear, what big eyes you have!' 'the better to see with, my child!' 'grandmother dear, what big teeth you have!' 'the better to eat you with!' with these words the wicked wolf leapt upon little red riding hood and gobbled her up. [illustration: "'you must die, madam,' he said."] blue beard once upon a time there was a man who owned splendid town and country houses, gold and silver plate, tapestries and coaches gilt all over. but the poor fellow had a blue beard, and this made him so ugly and frightful that there was not a woman or girl who did not run away at sight of him. amongst his neighbours was a lady of high degree who had two surpassingly beautiful daughters. he asked for the hand of one of these in marriage, leaving it to their mother to choose which should be bestowed upon him. both girls, however, raised objections, and his offer was bandied from one to the other, neither being able to bring herself to accept a man with a blue beard. another reason for their distaste was the fact that he had already married several wives, and no one knew what had become of them. in order that they might become better acquainted, blue beard invited the two girls, with their mother and three or four of their best friends, to meet a party of young men from the neighbourhood at one of his country houses. here they spent eight whole days, and throughout their stay there was a constant round of picnics, hunting and fishing expeditions, dances, dinners, and luncheons; and they never slept at all, through spending all the night in playing merry pranks upon each other. in short, everything went so gaily that the younger daughter began to think the master of the house had not so very blue a beard after all, and that he was an exceedingly agreeable man. as soon as the party returned to town their marriage took place. at the end of a month blue beard informed his wife that important business obliged him to make a journey into a distant part of the country, which would occupy at least six weeks. he begged her to amuse herself well during his absence, and suggested that she should invite some of her friends and take them, if she liked, to the country. he was particularly anxious that she should enjoy herself thoroughly. 'here,' he said, 'are the keys of the two large storerooms, and here is the one that locks up the gold and silver plate which is not in everyday use. this key belongs to the strong-boxes where my gold and silver is kept, this to the caskets containing my jewels; while here you have the master-key which gives admittance to all the apartments. as regards this little key, it is the key of the small room at the end of the long passage on the lower floor. you may open everything, you may go everywhere, but i forbid you to enter this little room. and i forbid you so seriously that if you were indeed to open the door, i should be so angry that i might do anything.' she promised to follow out these instructions exactly, and after embracing her, blue beard steps into his coach and is off upon his journey. [illustration: _blue beard_] her neighbours and friends did not wait to be invited before coming to call upon the young bride, so great was their eagerness to see the splendours of her house. they had not dared to venture while her husband was there, for his blue beard frightened them. but in less than no time there they were, running in and out of the rooms, the closets, and the wardrobes, each of which was finer than the last. presently they went upstairs to the storerooms, and there they could not admire enough the profusion and magnificence of the tapestries, beds, sofas, cabinets, tables, and stands. there were mirrors in which they could view themselves from top to toe, some with frames of plate glass, others with frames of silver and gilt lacquer, that were the most superb and beautiful things that had ever been seen. they were loud and persistent in their envy of their friend's good fortune. she, on the other hand, derived little amusement from the sight of all these riches, the reason being that she was impatient to go and inspect the little room on the lower floor. so overcome with curiosity was she that, without reflecting upon the discourtesy of leaving her guests, she ran down a private staircase, so precipitately that twice or thrice she nearly broke her neck, and so reached the door of the little room. there she paused for a while, thinking of the prohibition which her husband had made, and reflecting that harm might come to her as a result of disobedience. but the temptation was so great that she could not conquer it. taking the little key, with a trembling hand she opened the door of the room. at first she saw nothing, for the windows were closed, but after a few moments she perceived dimly that the floor was entirely covered with clotted blood, and that in this were reflected the dead bodies of several women that hung along the walls. these were all the wives of blue beard, whose throats he had cut, one after another. she thought to die of terror, and the key of the room, which she had just withdrawn from the lock, fell from her hand. when she had somewhat regained her senses, she picked up the key, closed the door, and went up to her chamber to compose herself a little. but this she could not do, for her nerves were too shaken. noticing that the key of the little room was stained with blood, she wiped it two or three times. but the blood did not go. she washed it well, and even rubbed it with sand and grit. always the blood remained. for the key was bewitched, and there was no means of cleaning it completely. when the blood was removed from one side, it reappeared on the other. [illustration: '_she washed it well_'] blue beard returned from his journey that very evening. he had received some letters on the way, he said, from which he learned that the business upon which he had set forth had just been concluded to his satisfaction. his wife did everything she could to make it appear that she was delighted by his speedy return. [illustration: _sister anne_] on the morrow he demanded the keys. she gave them to him, but with so trembling a hand that he guessed at once what had happened. 'how comes it,' he said to her, 'that the key of the little room is not with the others?' 'i must have left it upstairs upon my table,' she said. 'do not fail to bring it to me presently,' said blue beard. after several delays the key had to be brought. blue beard examined it, and addressed his wife. 'why is there blood on this key?' 'i do not know at all,' replied the poor woman, paler than death. 'you do not know at all?' exclaimed blue beard; 'i know well enough. you wanted to enter the little room! well, madam, enter it you shall--you shall go and take your place among the ladies you have seen there.' she threw herself at her husband's feet, asking his pardon with tears, and with all the signs of a true repentance for her disobedience. she would have softened a rock, in her beauty and distress, but blue beard had a heart harder than any stone. 'you must die, madam,' he said; 'and at once.' 'since i must die,' she replied, gazing at him with eyes that were wet with tears, 'give me a little time to say my prayers.' 'i give you one quarter of an hour,' replied blue beard, 'but not a moment longer.' when the poor girl was alone, she called her sister to her and said: 'sister anne'--for that was her name--'go up, i implore you, to the top of the tower, and see if my brothers are not approaching. they promised that they would come and visit me to-day. if you see them, make signs to them to hasten.' sister anne went up to the top of the tower, and the poor unhappy girl cried out to her from time to time: 'anne, sister anne, do you see nothing coming?' and sister anne replied: 'i see nought but dust in the sun and the green grass growing.' presently blue beard, grasping a great cutlass, cried out at the top of his voice: 'come down quickly, or i shall come upstairs myself.' 'oh please, one moment more,' called out his wife. and at the same moment she cried in a whisper: 'anne, sister anne, do you see nothing coming?' 'i see nought but dust in the sun and the green grass growing.' 'come down at once, i say,' shouted blue beard, 'or i will come upstairs myself.' 'i am coming,' replied his wife. then she called: 'anne, sister anne, do you see nothing coming?' 'i see,' replied sister anne, 'a great cloud of dust which comes this way.' 'is it my brothers?' 'alas, sister, no; it is but a flock of sheep.' 'do you refuse to come down?' roared blue beard. [illustration: '_brandishing the cutlass aloft_'] 'one little moment more,' exclaimed his wife. once more she cried: 'anne, sister anne, do you see nothing coming?' 'i see,' replied her sister, 'two horsemen who come this way, but they are as yet a long way off.... heaven be praised,' she exclaimed a moment later, 'they are my brothers.... i am signalling to them all i can to hasten.' blue beard let forth so mighty a shout that the whole house shook. the poor wife went down and cast herself at his feet, all dishevelled and in tears. 'that avails you nothing,' said blue beard; 'you must die.' seizing her by the hair with one hand, and with the other brandishing the cutlass aloft, he made as if to cut off her head. the poor woman, turning towards him and fixing a dying gaze upon him, begged for a brief moment in which to collect her thoughts. 'no! no!' he cried; 'commend your soul to heaven.' and raising his arm---at this very moment there came so loud a knocking at the gate that blue beard stopped short. the gate was opened, and two horsemen dashed in, who drew their swords and rode straight at blue beard. the latter recognised them as the brothers of his wife--one of them a dragoon, and the other a musketeer--and fled instantly in an effort to escape. but the two brothers were so close upon him that they caught him ere he could gain the first flight of steps. they plunged their swords through his body and left him dead. the poor woman was nearly as dead as her husband, and had not the strength to rise and embrace her brothers. it was found that blue beard had no heirs, and that consequently his wife became mistress of all his wealth. she devoted a portion to arranging a marriage between her sister anne and a young gentleman with whom the latter had been for some time in love, while another portion purchased a captain's commission for each of her brothers. the rest formed a dowry for her own marriage with a very worthy man, who banished from her mind all memory of the evil days she had spent with blue beard. beauty and the beast once upon a time there lived a merchant who was exceedingly rich. he had six children--three boys and three girls--and being a sensible man he spared no expense upon their education, but engaged tutors of every kind for them. all his daughters were pretty, but the youngest especially was admired by everybody. when she was small she was known simply as 'the little beauty,' and this name stuck to her, causing a great deal of jealousy on the part of her sisters. this youngest girl was not only prettier than her sisters, but very much nicer. the two elder girls were very arrogant as a result of their wealth; they pretended to be great ladies, declining to receive the daughters of other merchants, and associating only with people of quality. every day they went off to balls and theatres, and for walks in the park, with many a gibe at their little sister, who spent much of her time in reading good books. now these girls were known to be very rich, and in consequence were sought in marriage by many prominent merchants. the two eldest said they would never marry unless they could find a duke, or at least a count. but beauty--this, as i have mentioned, was the name by which the youngest was known--very politely thanked all who proposed marriage to her, and said that she was too young at present, and that she wished to keep her father company for several years yet. suddenly the merchant lost his fortune, the sole property which remained to him being a small house in the country, a long way from the capital. with tears he broke it to his children that they would have to move to this house, where by working like peasants they might just be able to live. the two elder girls replied that they did not wish to leave the town, and that they had several admirers who would be only too happy to marry them, notwithstanding their loss of fortune. but the simple maidens were mistaken: their admirers would no longer look at them, now that they were poor. everybody disliked them on account of their arrogance, and folks declared that they did not deserve pity: in fact, that it was a good thing their pride had had a fall--a turn at minding sheep would teach them how to play the fine lady! 'but we are very sorry for beauty's misfortune,' everybody added; 'she is such a dear girl, and was always so considerate to poor people: so gentle, and with such charming manners!' there were even several worthy men who would have married her, despite the fact that she was now penniless; but she told them she could not make up her mind to leave her poor father in his misfortune, and that she intended to go with him to the country, to comfort him and help him to work. poor beauty had been very grieved at first over the loss of her fortune, but she said to herself: 'however much i cry, i shall not recover my wealth, so i must try to be happy without it.' when they were established in the country the merchant and his family started working on the land. beauty used to rise at four o'clock in the morning, and was busy all day looking after the house, and preparing dinner for the family. at first she found it very hard, for she was not accustomed to work like a servant, but at the end of a couple of months she grew stronger, and her health was improved by the work. when she had leisure she read, or played the harpsichord, or sang at her spinning-wheel. [illustration: '_at first she found it very hard_'] her two sisters, on the other hand, were bored to death; they did not get up till ten o'clock in the morning, and they idled about all day. their only diversion was to bemoan the beautiful clothes they used to wear and the company they used to keep. 'look at our little sister,' they would say to each other; 'her tastes are so low and her mind so stupid that she is quite content with this miserable state of affairs.' the good merchant did not share the opinion of his two daughters, for he knew that beauty was more fitted to shine in company than her sisters. he was greatly impressed by the girl's good qualities, and especially by her patience--for her sisters, not content with leaving her all the work of the house, never missed an opportunity of insulting her. they had been living for a year in this seclusion when the merchant received a letter informing him that a ship on which he had some merchandise had just come safely home. the news nearly turned the heads of the two elder girls, for they thought that at last they would be able to quit their dull life in the country. when they saw their father ready to set out they begged him to bring them back dresses, furs, caps, and finery of every kind. beauty asked for nothing, thinking to herself that all the money which the merchandise might yield would not be enough to satisfy her sisters' demands. 'you have not asked me for anything,' said her father. 'as you are so kind as to think of me,' she replied, 'please bring me a rose, for there are none here.' beauty had no real craving for a rose, but she was anxious not to seem to disparage the conduct of her sisters. the latter would have declared that she purposely asked for nothing in order to be different from them. [illustration: '"_look at our little sister_"'] the merchant duly set forth; but when he reached his destination there was a law-suit over his merchandise, and after much trouble he returned poorer than he had been before. with only thirty miles to go before reaching home, he was already looking forward to the pleasure of seeing his children again, when he found he had to pass through a large wood. here he lost himself. it was snowing horribly; the wind was so strong that twice he was thrown from his horse, and when night came on he made up his mind he must either die of hunger and cold or be eaten by the wolves that he could hear howling all about him. [illustration: '_it was snowing horribly_'] suddenly he saw, at the end of a long avenue of trees, a strong light. it seemed to be some distance away, but he walked towards it, and presently discovered that it came from a large palace, which was all lit up. the merchant thanked heaven for sending him this help, and hastened to the castle. to his surprise, however, he found no one about in the courtyards. his horse, which had followed him, saw a large stable open and went in; and on finding hay and oats in readiness the poor animal, which was dying of hunger, set to with a will. the merchant tied him up in the stable, and approached the house, where he found not a soul. he entered a large room; here there was a good fire, and a table laden with food, but with a place laid for one only. the rain and snow had soaked him to the skin, so he drew near the fire to dry himself. 'i am sure,' he remarked to himself, 'that the master of this house or his servants will forgive the liberty i am taking; doubtless they will be here soon.' he waited some considerable time; but eleven o'clock struck and still he had seen nobody. being no longer able to resist his hunger he took a chicken and devoured it in two mouthfuls, trembling. then he drank several glasses of wine, and becoming bolder ventured out of the room. he went through several magnificently furnished apartments, and finally found a room with a very good bed. it was now past midnight, and as he was very tired he decided to shut the door and go to bed. it was ten o'clock the next morning when he rose, and he was greatly astonished to find a new suit in place of his own, which had been spoilt. 'this palace,' he said to himself, 'must surely belong to some good fairy, who has taken pity on my plight.' he looked out of the window. the snow had vanished, and his eyes rested instead upon arbours of flowers--a charming spectacle. he went back to the room where he had supped the night before, and found there a little table with a cup of chocolate on it. 'i thank you, madam fairy,' he said aloud, 'for being so kind as to think of my breakfast.' having drunk his chocolate the good man went forth to look for his horse. as he passed under a bower of roses he remembered that beauty had asked for one, and he plucked a spray from a mass of blooms. the very same moment he heard a terrible noise, and saw a beast coming towards him which was so hideous that he came near to fainting. 'ungrateful wretch!' said the beast, in a dreadful voice; 'i have saved your life by receiving you into my castle, and in return for my trouble you steal that which i love better than anything in the world--my roses. you shall pay for this with your life! i give you fifteen minutes to make your peace with heaven.' the merchant threw himself on his knees and wrung his hands. 'pardon, my lord!' he cried; 'one of my daughters had asked for a rose, and i did not dream i should be giving offence by picking one.' 'i am not called "my lord,"' answered the monster, 'but "the beast." i have no liking for compliments, but prefer people to say what they think. do not hope therefore to soften me by flattery. you have daughters, you say; well, i am willing to pardon you if one of your daughters will come, of her own choice, to die in your place. do not argue with me--go! and swear that if your daughters refuse to die in your place you will come back again in three months.' [illustration: _the beast_] the good man had no intention of sacrificing one of his daughters to this hideous monster, but he thought that at least he might have the pleasure of kissing them once again. he therefore swore to return, and the beast told him he could go when he wished. 'i do not wish you to go empty-handed,' he added; 'return to the room where you slept; you will find there a large empty box. fill it with what you will; i will have it sent home for you.' with these words the beast withdrew, leaving the merchant to reflect that if he must indeed die, at all events he would have the consolation of providing for his poor children. he went back to the room where he had slept. he found there a large number of gold pieces, and with these he filled the box the beast had mentioned. having closed the latter, he took his horse, which was still in the stable, and set forth from the palace, as melancholy now as he had been joyous when he entered it. the horse of its own accord took one of the forest roads, and in a few hours the good man reached his own little house. his children crowded round him, but at sight of them, instead of welcoming their caresses, he burst into tears. in his hand was the bunch of roses which he had brought for beauty, and he gave it to her with these words: 'take these roses, beauty; it is dearly that your poor father will have to pay for them.' thereupon he told his family of the dire adventure which had befallen him. on hearing the tale the two elder girls were in a great commotion, and began to upbraid beauty for not weeping as they did. 'see to what her smugness has brought this young chit,' they said; 'surely she might strive to find some way out of this trouble, as we do! but oh, dear me, no; her ladyship is so determined to be different that she can speak of her father's death without a tear!' 'it would be quite useless to weep,' said beauty. 'why should i lament my father's death? he is not going to die. since the monster agrees to accept a daughter instead, i intend to offer myself to appease his fury. it will be a happiness to do so, for in dying i shall have the joy of saving my father, and of proving to him my devotion.' 'no, sister,' said her three brothers; 'you shall not die; we will go in quest of this monster, and will perish under his blows if we cannot kill him.' 'do not entertain any such hopes, my children,' said the merchant; 'the power of this beast is so great that i have not the slightest expectation of escaping him. i am touched by the goodness of beauty's heart, but i will not expose her to death. i am old and have not much longer to live; and i shall merely lose a few years that will be regretted only on account of you, my dear children.' 'i can assure you, father,' said beauty, 'that you will not go to this palace without me. you cannot prevent me from following you. although i am young i am not so very deeply in love with life, and i would rather be devoured by this monster than die of the grief which your loss would cause me.' words were useless. beauty was quite determined to go to this wonderful palace, and her sisters were not sorry, for they regarded her good qualities with deep jealousy. the merchant was so taken up with the sorrow of losing his daughter that he forgot all about the box which he had filled with gold. to his astonishment, when he had shut the door of his room and was about to retire for the night, there it was at the side of his bed! he decided not to tell his children that he had become so rich, for his elder daughters would have wanted to go back to town, and he had resolved to die in the country. he did confide his secret to beauty, however, and the latter told him that during his absence they had entertained some visitors, amongst whom were two admirers of her sisters. she begged her father to let them marry; for she was of such a sweet nature that she loved them, and forgave them with all her heart the evil they had done her. when beauty set off with her father the two heartless girls rubbed their eyes with an onion, so as to seem tearful; but her brothers wept in reality, as did also the merchant. beauty alone did not cry, because she did not want to add to their sorrow. the horse took the road to the palace, and by evening they espied it, all lit up as before. an empty stable awaited the nag, and when the good merchant and his daughter entered the great hall, they found there a table magnificently laid for two people. the merchant had not the heart to eat, but beauty, forcing herself to appear calm, sat down and served him. since the beast had provided such splendid fare, she thought to herself, he must presumably be anxious to fatten her up before eating her. when they had finished supper they heard a terrible noise. with tears the merchant bade farewell to his daughter, for he knew it was the beast. beauty herself could not help trembling at the awful apparition, but she did her best to compose herself. the beast asked her if she had come of her own free will, and she timidly answered that such was the case. 'you are indeed kind,' said the beast, 'and i am much obliged to you. you, my good man, will depart to-morrow morning, and you must not think of coming back again. good-bye, beauty!' 'good-bye, beast!' she answered. thereupon the monster suddenly disappeared. 'daughter,' said the merchant, embracing beauty, 'i am nearly dead with fright. let me be the one to stay here!' 'no, father,' said beauty, firmly, 'you must go to-morrow morning, and leave me to the mercy of heaven. perhaps pity will be taken on me.' they retired to rest, thinking they would not sleep at all during the night, but they were hardly in bed before their eyes were closed in sleep. in her dreams there appeared to beauty a lady, who said to her: 'your virtuous character pleases me, beauty. in thus undertaking to give your life to save your father you have performed an act of goodness which shall not go unrewarded.' when she woke up beauty related this dream to her father. he was somewhat consoled by it, but could not refrain from loudly giving vent to his grief when the time came to tear himself away from his beloved child. as soon as he had gone beauty sat down in the great hall and began to cry. but she had plenty of courage, and after imploring divine protection she determined to grieve no more during the short time she had yet to live. she was convinced that the beast would devour her that night, but made up her mind that in the interval she would walk about and have a look at this beautiful castle, the splendour of which she could not but admire. imagine her surprise when she came upon a door on which were the words 'beauty's room'! she quickly opened this door, and was dazzled by the magnificence of the appointments within. 'they are evidently anxious that i should not be dull,' she murmured, as she caught sight of a large bookcase, a harpsichord, and several volumes of music. a moment later another thought crossed her mind. 'if i had only a day to spend here,' she reflected, 'such provision would surely not have been made for me.' this notion gave her fresh courage. she opened the bookcase, and found a book in which was written, in letters of gold: 'ask for anything you wish: you are mistress of all here.' 'alas!' she said with a sigh, 'my only wish is to see my poor father, and to know what he is doing.' as she said this to herself she glanced at a large mirror. imagine her astonishment when she perceived her home reflected in it, and saw her father just approaching. sorrow was written on his face; but when her sisters came to meet him it was impossible not to detect, despite the grimaces with which they tried to simulate grief, the satisfaction they felt at the loss of their sister. in a moment the vision faded away, yet beauty could not but think that the beast was very kind, and that she had nothing much to fear from him. at midday she found the table laid, and during her meal she enjoyed an excellent concert, though the performers were invisible. but in the evening, as she was about to sit down at the table, she heard the noise made by the beast, and quaked in spite of herself. 'beauty,' said the monster to her, 'may i watch you have your supper?' 'you are master here,' said the trembling beauty. 'not so,' replied the beast; 'it is you who are mistress; you have only to tell me to go, if my presence annoys you, and i will go immediately. tell me, now, do you not consider me very ugly?' 'i do,' said beauty, 'since i must speak the truth; but i think you are also very kind.' 'it is as you say,' said the monster; 'and in addition to being ugly, i lack intelligence. as i am well aware, i am a mere beast.' 'it is not the way with stupid people,' answered beauty, 'to admit a lack of intelligence. fools never realise it.' 'sup well, beauty,' said the monster, 'and try to banish dulness from your home--for all about you is yours, and i should be sorry to think you were not happy.' 'you are indeed kind,' said beauty. 'with one thing, i must own, i am well pleased, and that is your kind heart. when i think of that you no longer seem to be ugly.' 'oh yes,' answered the beast, 'i have a good heart, right enough, but i am a monster.' 'there are many men,' said beauty, 'who make worse monsters than you, and i prefer you, notwithstanding your looks, to those who under the semblance of men hide false, corrupt, and ungrateful hearts.' the beast replied that if only he had a grain of wit he would compliment her in the grand style by way of thanks; but that being so stupid he could only say he was much obliged. beauty ate with a good appetite, for she now had scarcely any fear of the beast. but she nearly died of fright when he put this question to her: 'beauty, will you be my wife?' for some time she did not answer, fearing lest she might anger the monster by her refusal. she summoned up courage at last to say, rather fearfully, 'no, beast!' the poor monster gave forth so terrible a sigh that the noise of it went whistling through the whole palace. but to beauty's speedy relief the beast sadly took his leave and left the room, turning several times as he did so to look once more at her. left alone, beauty was moved by great compassion for this poor beast. 'what a pity he is so ugly,' she said, 'for he is so good.' beauty passed three months in the palace quietly enough. every evening the beast paid her a visit, and entertained her at supper by a display of much good sense, if not with what the world calls wit. and every day beauty was made aware of fresh kindnesses on the part of the monster. through seeing him often she had become accustomed to his ugliness, and far from dreading the moment of his visit, she frequently looked at her watch to see if it was nine o'clock, the hour when the beast always appeared. one thing alone troubled beauty; every evening, before retiring to bed, the monster asked her if she would be his wife, and seemed overwhelmed with grief when she refused. one day she said to him: 'you distress me, beast. i wish i could marry you, but i cannot deceive you by allowing you to believe that that can ever be. i will always be your friend--be content with that.' 'needs must,' said the beast. 'but let me make the position plain. i know i am very terrible, but i love you very much, and i shall be very happy if you will only remain here. promise that you will never leave me.' beauty blushed at these words. she had seen in her mirror that her father was stricken down by the sorrow of having lost her, and she wished very much to see him again. 'i would willingly promise to remain with you always,' she said to the beast, 'but i have so great a desire to see my father again that i shall die of grief if you refuse me this boon.' 'i would rather die myself than cause you grief,' said the monster. 'i will send you back to your father. you shall stay with him, and your beast shall die of sorrow at your departure.' 'no, no,' said beauty, crying; 'i like you too much to wish to cause your death. i promise you i will return in eight days. you have shown me that my sisters are married, and that my brothers have joined the army. my father is all alone; let me stay with him one week.' 'you shall be with him to-morrow morning,' said the beast. 'but remember your promise. all you have to do when you want to return is to put your ring on a table when you are going to bed. good-bye, beauty!' as usual, the beast sighed when he said these last words, and beauty went to bed quite down-hearted at having grieved him. [illustration: "every evening the beast paid her a visit."] when she woke the next morning she found she was in her father's house. she rang a little bell which stood by the side of her bed, and it was answered by their servant, who gave a great cry at sight of her. the good man came running at the noise, and was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of his dear daughter. their embraces lasted for more than a quarter of an hour. when their transports had subsided, it occurred to beauty that she had no clothes to put on; but the servant told her that she had just discovered in the next room a chest full of dresses trimmed with gold and studded with diamonds. beauty felt grateful to the beast for this attention, and having selected the simplest of the gowns she bade the servant pack up the others, as she wished to send them as presents to her sisters. the words were hardly out of her mouth when the chest disappeared. her father expressed the opinion that the beast wished her to keep them all for herself, and in a trice dresses and chest were back again where they were before. when beauty had dressed she learned that her sisters, with their husbands, had arrived. both were very unhappy. the eldest had wedded an exceedingly handsome man, but the latter was so taken up with his own looks that he studied them from morning to night, and despised his wife's beauty. the second had married a man with plenty of brains, but he only used them to pay insults to everybody--his wife first and foremost. the sisters were greatly mortified when they saw beauty dressed like a princess, and more beautiful than the dawn. her caresses were ignored, and the jealousy which they could not stifle only grew worse when she told them how happy she was. out into the garden went the envious pair, there to vent their spleen to the full. 'why should this chit be happier than we are?' each demanded of the other; 'are we not much nicer than she is?' 'sister,' said the elder, 'i have an idea. let us try to persuade her to stay here longer than the eight days. her stupid beast will fly into a rage when he finds she has broken her word, and will very likely devour her.' 'you are right, sister,' said the other; 'but we must make a great fuss of her if we are to make the plan successful.' with this plot decided upon they went upstairs again, and paid such attention to their little sister that beauty wept for joy. when the eight days had passed the two sisters tore their hair, and showed such grief over her departure that she promised to remain another eight days. beauty reproached herself, nevertheless, with the grief she was causing to the poor beast; moreover, she greatly missed not seeing him. on the tenth night of her stay in her father's house she dreamed that she was in the palace garden, where she saw the beast lying on the grass nearly dead, and that he upbraided her for her ingratitude. beauty woke up with a start, and burst into tears. 'i am indeed very wicked,' she said, 'to cause so much grief to a beast who has shown me nothing but kindness. is it his fault that he is so ugly, and has so few wits? he is good, and that makes up for all the rest. why did i not wish to marry him? i should have been a good deal happier with him than my sisters are with their husbands. it is neither good looks nor brains in a husband that make a woman happy; it is beauty of character, virtue, kindness. all these qualities the beast has. i admit i have no love for him, but he has my esteem, friendship, and gratitude. at all events i must not make him miserable, or i shall reproach myself all my life.' with these words beauty rose and placed her ring on the table. hardly had she returned to her bed than she was asleep, and when she woke the next morning she saw with joy that she was in the beast's palace. she dressed in her very best on purpose to please him, and nearly died of impatience all day, waiting for nine o'clock in the evening. but the clock struck in vain: no beast appeared. beauty now thought she must have caused his death, and rushed about the palace with loud despairing cries. she looked everywhere, and at last, recalling her dream, dashed into the garden by the canal, where she had seen him in her sleep. there she found the poor beast lying unconscious, and thought he must be dead. she threw herself on his body, all her horror of his looks forgotten, and, feeling his heart still beat, fetched water from the canal and threw it on his face. the beast opened his eyes and said to beauty: 'you forgot your promise. the grief i felt at having lost you made me resolve to die of hunger; but i die content since i have the pleasure of seeing you once more.' 'dear beast, you shall not die,' said beauty; 'you shall live and become my husband. here and now i offer you my hand, and swear that i will marry none but you. alas, i fancied i felt only friendship for you, but the sorrow i have experienced clearly proves to me that i cannot live without you.' beauty had scarce uttered these words when the castle became ablaze with lights before her eyes: fireworks, music--all proclaimed a feast. but these splendours were lost on her: she turned to her dear beast, still trembling for his danger. judge of her surprise now! at her feet she saw no longer the beast, who had disappeared, but a prince, more beautiful than love himself, who thanked her for having put an end to his enchantment. with good reason were her eyes riveted upon the prince, but she asked him nevertheless where the beast had gone. 'you see him at your feet,' answered the prince. 'a wicked fairy condemned me to retain that form until some beautiful girl should consent to marry me, and she forbade me to betray any sign of intelligence. you alone in all the world could show yourself susceptible to the kindness of my character, and in offering you my crown i do but discharge the obligation that i owe you.' in agreeable surprise beauty offered her hand to the handsome prince, and assisted him to rise. together they repaired to the castle, and beauty was overcome with joy to find, assembled in the hall, her father and her entire family. the lady who had appeared to her in her dream had had them transported to the castle. [illustration: '"_your doom is to become statues_"'] 'beauty,' said this lady (who was a celebrated fairy), 'come and receive the reward of your noble choice. you preferred merit to either beauty or wit, and you certainly deserve to find these qualities combined in one person. it is your destiny to become a great queen, but i hope that the pomp of royalty will not destroy your virtues. as for you, ladies,' she continued, turning to beauty's two sisters, 'i know your hearts and the malice they harbour. your doom is to become statues, and under the stone that wraps you round to retain all your feelings. you will stand at the door of your sister's palace, and i can visit no greater punishment upon you than that you shall be witnesses of her happiness. only when you recognise your faults can you return to your present shape, and i am very much afraid that you will be statues for ever. pride, ill-temper, greed, and laziness can all be corrected, but nothing short of a miracle will turn a wicked and envious heart.' in a trice, with a tap of her hand, the fairy transported them all to the prince's realm, where his subjects were delighted to see him again. he married beauty, and they lived together for a long time in happiness the more perfect because it was founded on virtue. the friendly frog once upon a time there was a king who had been at war for a long time with his neighbours. after many battles had been fought his capital was besieged by the enemy. fearing for the safety of the queen, the king implored her to take refuge in a stronghold to which he himself had never been but once. the queen besought him with tears to let her remain at his side, and share his fate, and lamented loudly when the king placed her in the carriage which was to take her away under escort. the king promised to slip away whenever possible and pay her a visit, seeking thus to comfort her, although he knew that there was small chance of the hope being fulfilled. for the castle was a long way off, in the midst of a dense forest, and only those with a thorough knowledge of the roads could possibly reach it. the queen was broken-hearted at having to leave her husband exposed to the perils of war, and though she made her journey by easy stages, lest the fatigue of so much travelling should make her ill, she was downcast and miserable when at length she reached the castle. she made excursions into the country round about, when sufficiently recovered, but found nothing to amuse or distract her. on all sides wide barren spaces met her eye, melancholy rather than pleasant to look upon. 'how different from my old home!' she exclaimed, as she gloomily surveyed the scene; 'if i stay here long i shall die. to whom can i talk in this solitude? to whom can i unburden my grief? what have i done that the king should exile me? he must wish me, i suppose, to feel the bitterness of separation to the utmost, since he banishes me to this hateful castle.' she grieved long and deeply, and though the king wrote every day to her with good news of the way the siege was going, she became more and more unhappy. at last she determined that she would go back to him, but knowing that her attendants had been forbidden to let her return, except under special orders from the king, she kept her intention to herself. on the pretext of wishing sometimes to join the hunt, she ordered a small chariot, capable of accommodating one person only, to be built for her. this she drove herself, and used to keep up with the hounds so closely that she would leave the rest of the hunt behind. the chariot being in her sole control, this gave her the opportunity to escape whenever she liked, and the only obstacle was her lack of familiarity with the roads through the forest. she trusted, however, to the favour of providence to bring her safely through it. she now gave orders for a great hunt to be held, and intimated her wish that every one should attend. she herself was to be present in her chariot, and she proposed that every follower of the chase should choose a different line, and so close every avenue of escape to the quarry. the arrangements were carried out according to the queen's plan. confident that she would soon see her husband again, she donned her most becoming attire. her hat was trimmed with feathers of different colours, the front of her dress with a number of precious stones. thus adorned, she looked in her beauty (which was of no ordinary stamp) like a second diana. when the excitement of the chase was at its height she gave rein to her horses, urging them on with voice and whip, until their pace quickened to a gallop. but then, getting their bits between their teeth, the team sped onwards so fast that presently the chariot seemed to be borne upon the wind, and to be travelling faster than the eye could follow. too late the poor queen repented of her rashness. 'what possessed me,' she cried, 'to think that i could manage such wild and fiery steeds? alack! what will become of me! what would the king do if he knew of my great peril? he only sent me away because he loves me dearly, and wished me to be in greater safety--and this is the way i repay his tender care!' her piteous cries rang out upon the air, but though she called on heaven and invoked the fairies to her aid, it seemed that all the unseen powers had forsaken her. over went the chariot. she lacked the strength to jump clear quickly enough, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree. it was only by a miracle that she was not killed, and she lay stretched on the ground at the foot of a tree, with her heart scarcely beating and her face covered with blood, unable to speak. for a long time she lay thus. at last she opened her eyes and saw, standing beside her, a woman of gigantic stature. the latter wore nought but a lion's skin; her arms and legs were bare, and her hair was tied up with a dried snake's skin, the head of which dangled over her shoulder. in her hand she carried, for walking-stick, a stone club, and a quiver full of arrows hung at her side. this extraordinary apparition convinced the queen that she was dead, and indeed it seemed impossible that she could have survived so terrible a disaster. 'no wonder death needs resolution,' she murmured, 'since sights so terrible await one in the other world.' the giantess overheard these words, and laughed to find the queen thought herself dead. 'courage,' she said; 'you are still in the land of the living, though your lot is not improved. i am the lion-witch. my dwelling is near by; you must come and live with me.' 'if you will have the kindness, good lion-witch, to take me back to my castle, the king, who loves me dearly, will not refuse you any ransom you demand, though it were the half of his kingdom.' 'i will not do that,' replied the giantess, 'for i have wealth enough already. moreover, i am tired of living alone, and as you have your wits about you it is possible you may be able to amuse me.' with these words she assumed the shape of a lioness, and taking the queen on her back, bore her off into the depths of a cavern. there she anointed the queen's wounds with an essence which quickly healed them. but imagine the wonder and despair of the queen to find herself in this dismal lair! the approach to it was by ten thousand steps, which led downward to the centre of the earth, and the only light was that which came from a number of lofty lamps, reflected in a lake of quicksilver. this lake teemed with monsters, each of which was hideous enough to have terrified one far less timid than the queen. ravens, screech-owls, and many another bird of evil omen filled the air with harsh cries. far off could be espied a mountain, from the slopes of which there flowed the tears of all hapless lovers. its sluggish stream was fed by every ill-starred love. the trees had neither leaves nor fruit, and the ground was cumbered with briars, nettles, and rank weeds. the food, too, was such as might be expected in such a horrid clime. a few dried roots, horse-chestnuts, and thorn-apples--this was all the fare with which the lion-witch appeased the hunger of those who fell into her clutches. when the queen was well enough to be set to work, the witch told her she might build herself a hut, since she was fated to remain in her company for the rest of her life. on hearing this the queen burst into tears. 'alas!' she cried, 'what have i done that you should keep me here? if my death, which i feel to be nigh, will cause you any pleasure, then i implore you to kill me: i dare not hope for any other kindness from you. but do not condemn me to the sadness of a life-long separation from my husband.' but the lion-witch merely laughed at her, bidding her dry her tears, if she would be wise, and do her part to please her. otherwise, she declared, her lot would be the most miserable in the world. 'and what must i do to soften your heart?' replied the queen. 'i have a liking for fly-pasties,' said the lion-witch; 'and you must contrive to catch flies enough to make me a large and tasty one.' [illustration: '_the approach to it was by ten thousand steps_'] 'but there are no flies here,' rejoined the queen; 'and even if there were there is not enough light to catch them by. moreover, supposing i caught some, i have never in my life made pastry. you are therefore giving me orders which i cannot possibly carry out.' 'no matter,' said the pitiless lion-witch; 'what i want i will have!' the queen made no reply, but reflected that, no matter how cruel the witch might be, she had only one life to lose, and in her present plight what terror could death hold for her? she did not attempt to look for flies, therefore, but sat down beneath a yew tree, and gave way to tears and lamentations. 'alas, dear husband,' she cried, 'how grieved you will be when you go to fetch me from the castle, and find me gone! you will suppose me to be dead or faithless; how i hope that you will mourn the loss of my life, not the loss of my love! perhaps the remains of my chariot will be found in the wood, with all the ornaments i had put on to please you: at sight of these you will not doubt any more that i am dead. but then, how do i know that you will not bestow on some one else the heartfelt love which once belonged to me? at all events i shall be spared the sorrow of that knowledge, since i am never to return to the world.' these thoughts would have filled her mind for a long time, but she was interrupted by the dismal croaking of a raven overhead. lifting her eyes, she saw in the dim light a large raven on the point of swallowing a frog which it held in its beak. 'though i have no hope of help for myself,' she said, 'i will not let this unfortunate frog die, if i can save it; though our lots are so different, its sufferings are quite as great as mine.' she picked up the first stick which came to hand, and made the raven let go its prey. the frog fell to the ground and lay for a time half stunned; but as soon as it could think, in its froggish way, it began to speak. 'beautiful queen,' it said, 'you are the first friendly soul that i have seen since my curiosity brought me here.' [illustration: _the friendly frog_] 'by what magic are you endowed with speech, little frog?' replied the queen; 'and what people are they whom you see here? i have seen none at all as yet.' 'all the monsters with which the lake is teeming,' replied the little frog, 'were once upon a time in the world. some sat on thrones, some held high positions at court; there are even some royal ladies here who were the cause of strife and bloodshed. it is these latter whom you see in the shape of leeches, and they are condemned to remain here for a certain time. but of those who come here none ever returns to the world better or wiser.' 'i can quite understand,' said the queen, 'that wicked people are not improved by merely being thrown together. but how is it that you are here, my friendly little frog?' 'i came here out of curiosity,' she replied. 'i am part fairy, and though, in certain directions, my powers are limited, in others they are far-reaching. the lion-witch would kill me if she knew that i was in her domain.' 'whatever your fairy powers,' said the queen, 'i cannot understand how you could have fallen into the raven's clutches and come so near to being devoured.' 'that is easily explained,' said the frog. 'i have nought to fear when my little cap of roses is on my head, for that is the source of my power. unluckily i had left it in the marsh when that ugly raven pounced upon me, and but for you, madam, i should not now be here. since you have saved my life, you have only to command me and i will do everything in my power to lessen the misfortunes of your lot.' 'alas, dear frog,' said the queen, 'the wicked fairy who holds me captive desires that i should make her a fly-pasty. but there are no flies here, and if there were i could not see to catch them in the dim light. i am like, therefore, to get a beating which will kill me.' 'leave that to me,' said the frog, 'i will quickly get you some.' thereupon the frog smeared sugar all over herself, and the same was done by more than six thousand of her froggy friends. they then made for a place where the fairy had a large store of flies, which she used to torment some of her luckless victims. no sooner did the flies smell the sugar than they flew to it, and found themselves sticking to the frogs. away, then, went the latter at a gallop, to bring their friendly aid to the queen. never was there such a catching of flies before, nor a better pasty than the one the queen made for the fairy. the surprise of the witch was great when the queen handed it to her, for she was baffled to think how the flies could have been so cleverly caught. the queen suffered so much from want of protection against the poisonous air that she cut down some cypress branches and began to build herself a hut. the frog kindly offered her services. she summoned round her all those who had helped in the fly hunt, and they assisted the queen to build as pretty a little place to live in as you could find anywhere in the world. but no sooner had she lain down to rest than the monsters of the lake, envious of her repose, gathered round the hut. they set up the most hideous noise that had ever been heard, and drove her so nearly mad that she got up and fled in fear and trembling from the house. this was just what the monsters were after, and a dragon, who had once upon a time ruled tyrannously over one of the greatest countries of the world, immediately took possession of it. the poor queen tried to protest against this ill-treatment. but no one would listen to her: the monsters laughed and jeered at her, and the lion-witch said that if she came and dinned lamentations into her ears again she would give her a sound thrashing. the queen was therefore obliged to hold her tongue. she sought out the frog, who was the most sympathetic creature in the world, and they wept together; for the moment she put on her cap of roses the frog became able to laugh or weep like anybody else. 'i am so fond of you,' said the frog to the queen, 'that i will build your house again, though every monster in the lake should be filled with envy.' forthwith she cut some wood, and a little country mansion for the queen sprang up so quickly that she was able to sleep in it that very night. nothing that could make for the queen's comfort was forgotten by the frog, and there was even a bed of wild thyme. when the wicked fairy learnt that the queen was not sleeping on the ground, she sent for her and asked: 'what power is it, human or divine, that protects you? this land drinks only a rain of burning sulphur, and has never produced so much as a sage-leaf: yet they tell me fragrant herbs spring up beneath your feet.' 'i cannot explain it, madam,' said the queen, 'unless it is due to the child i am expecting. perhaps for her a less unhappy fate than mine is in store.' 'i have a craving just now,' said the witch, 'for a posy of rare flowers. see if this happiness which you expect will enable you to get them. if you do not succeed, such a thrashing as i know well how to give is surely in store for you.' the queen began to weep, for threats like these distressed her, and she despaired as she thought of the impossibility of finding flowers. but when she returned to her little house, the friendly frog met her. 'how unhappy you look!' she said. 'alas, dear friend,' said the queen, 'who would not be so? the witch has demanded a posy of the most beautiful flowers. where am i to find them? you see what sort of flowers grow here! yet my life is forfeit if i do not procure them.' 'dear queen,' said the frog tenderly, 'we must do our best to extricate you from this dilemma. hereabouts there lives a bat of my acquaintance--a kindly soul. she moves about more quickly than i do, so i will give her my cap of roses, and with the aid of this she will be able to find you flowers.' the queen curtseyed low, it being quite impossible to embrace the frog, and the latter went off at once to speak to the bat. in a few hours the bat came back with some exquisite flowers tucked under her wings. off went the queen with them to the witch, who was more astonished than ever, being quite unable to understand in what marvellous way the queen had been assisted. the queen never ceased to plot some means of escape, and told the frog of her longings. 'madam,' said the latter, 'allow me first to take counsel with my little cap, and we will make plans according to what it advises.' having placed her cap upon some straw, she burnt in front of it a few juniper twigs, some capers, and a couple of green peas. she then croaked five times. this completed the rites, and having donned her cap again, she began to speak like an oracle. 'fate, the all-powerful, decrees that you must not leave this place. you will have a little princess more beautiful than venus herself. let nothing fret you; time alone can heal.' the queen bowed her head and shed tears, but she determined to have faith in the friend she had found. 'whatever happens,' she said, 'do not leave me here alone, and befriend me when my little one is born.' the frog promised to remain with her, and did her best to comfort her. it is now time to return to the king. so long as the enemy kept him confined within his capital he could not regularly send messengers to the queen. but at length, after many sorties, he forced the enemy to raise the siege. this success gave him pleasure not so much on his own account, as for the sake of the queen, who could now be brought home in safety. he knew nothing of the disaster which had befallen her, for none of his retinue had dared to tell him of it. they had found in the forest the remains of the chariot, the runaway horses, and the apparel in which she had driven forth to find her husband, and being convinced that she was killed or devoured by wild beasts, their one idea was to make the king believe that she had died suddenly. it seemed as if the king could not survive this mournful news. he tore his hair, wept bitterly, and lamented his loss with all manner of sorrowful cries and sobs and sighs. for several days he would see nobody, and hid himself from view. later, he returned to his capital and entered upon a long period of mourning, to the sincerity of which his heartfelt sorrow bore even plainer testimony than his sombre garb of woe. his royal neighbours all sent ambassadors with messages of condolence, and when the ceremonies proper to these occasions were at length over, he proclaimed a period of peace. he released his subjects from military service, and devoted himself to giving them every assistance in the development of commerce. of all this the queen knew nothing. a little princess had been born to her in the meantime, and her beauty did not belie the frog's prediction. they gave her the name of moufette, but the queen had great difficulty in persuading the witch to let her bring up the child, for her ferocity was such that she would have liked to eat it. at the age of six months moufette was a marvel of beauty, and often, as she gazed upon her with mingled tenderness and pity, the queen would say: 'could your father but see you, my poor child, how delighted he would be, and how dear you would be to him! but perhaps even now he has begun to forget me: doubtless he believes that death has robbed him of us, and it may be that another now fills the place i had in his affections.' many were the tears she shed over these sad thoughts, and the frog, whose love for her was sincere, was moved one day by the sight of her grief to say to her: 'if you like, madam, i will go and seek your royal husband. it is a long journey, and i am but a tardy traveller, but sooner or later i have no doubt i shall get there.' [illustration: "could your father but see you, my poor child."] no suggestion could have been more warmly approved, the queen clasping her hands, and bidding little moufette do the same, in token of the gratitude she felt towards the good frog for offering to make the expedition. nor would the king, she declared, be less grateful. 'of what advantage, however,' she went on, 'will it be to him to learn that i am in this dire abode, since it will be impossible for him to rescue me from it?' 'that we must leave to providence, madam,' said the frog; 'we can but make those efforts of which we are capable.' they took farewell of each other, and the queen sent a message to the king. this was written with her blood on a piece of rag, for she had neither ink nor paper. the good frog was bringing him news of herself, she wrote, and she implored him to give heed to all that she might tell him, and to believe everything she had to say. it took the frog a year and four days to climb the ten thousand steps which led from the gloomy realm in which she had left the queen, up into the world. another year was spent in preparing her equipage, for she was too proud to consent to appear at court like a poor and humble frog from the marshes. a little sedan-chair was made for her, large enough to hold a couple of eggs comfortably, and this was covered outside with tortoise-shell and lined with lizard-skin. from the little green frogs that hop about the meadows she selected fifty to act as maids of honour, and each of these was mounted on a snail. they had dainty saddles, and rode in dashing style with the leg thrown over the saddle-bow. a numerous bodyguard of rats, dressed like pages, ran before the snails--in short, nothing so captivating had ever been seen before. to crown all, the cap of roses, which never faded but was always in full bloom, most admirably became her. being something of a coquette, too, she could not refrain from a touch of rouge and a patch or two; indeed, some said she was painted like a great many other ladies of the land, but it has been proved by inquiry that this report had its origin with her enemies. the journey lasted seven years, and during all that time the poor queen endured unutterable pain and suffering. had it not been for the solace of the beautiful moufette she must have died a hundred times. every word that the dear little creature uttered filled her with delight; indeed, with the exception of the lion-witch, there was nobody who was not charmed by her. there came at length a day, after the queen had lived for six years in this dismal region, when the witch told her that she could go hunting with her, on condition that she yielded up everything which she killed. the queen's joy when she once more saw the sun may be imagined; though at first she thought she would be blinded, so unaccustomed to its light had she become. so quick and lively was moufette, even at five or six years of age, that she never failed in her aim, and mother and daughter together were thus able to appease somewhat the fierce instincts of the witch. meanwhile the frog was travelling over hills and valleys. day or night, she never stopped, and at last she came nigh to the capital, where the king was now in residence. to her astonishment signs of festivity met her eye at every turn; on all sides there was merriment, song and dancing, and the nearer she came to the city the more festive seemed the mood of the people. all flocked with amazement to see her rustic retinue, and by the time she reached the city the crowd had become so large that it was with difficulty she made her way to the palace. [illustration: '_the journey lasted seven years_'] at the palace all was splendour, for the king, who had been deprived of his wife's society for nine years, had at last yielded to the petitions of his subjects, and was about to wed a princess who possessed many amiable qualities, though she lacked, admittedly, the beauty of his wife. the good frog descended from her sedan-chair, and with her attendants in her train entered the royal presence. to request an audience was unnecessary, for the king and his intended bride and all the princes were much too curious to learn why she had come to think of interrupting her. 'sire,' said the frog, 'i am in doubt whether the news i bring will cause you joy or sorrow. i can only conclude, from the marriage which you are proposing to celebrate, that you are no longer faithful to your queen.' tears fell from the king's eyes. 'her memory is as dear to me as ever,' he declared; 'but you must know, good frog, that monarchs cannot always follow their own wishes. for nine years now my subjects have been urging me to take a wife, and indeed it is due to them that there should be an heir to the throne. hence my choice of this young princess, whose charms are apparent.' 'i warn you not to marry her,' rejoined the frog; 'the queen is not dead, and i am the bearer of a letter from her, writ in her own blood. there has been born to you a little daughter, moufette, who is more beautiful than the very heavens.' the king took the rag on which the short message from the queen was written. he kissed it and moistened it with his tears; and declared, holding it up for all to see, that he recognised the handwriting of his wife. then he plied the frog with endless questions, to all of which she replied with lively intelligence. the princess who was to have been queen, and the envoys who were attending the marriage ceremony, were somewhat out of countenance. 'sire,' said one of the most distinguished guests, turning to the king, 'can you contemplate the breaking of your solemn pledge upon the word of a toad like that? this scum of the marshes has the audacity to come and lie to the entire court, just for the gratification of being listened to!' 'i would have you know, your excellency,' replied the frog, 'that i am no scum of the marshes. since you force me to display my powers--hither, fairies all!' at these words the frogs, the rats, the snails, and the lizards all suddenly ranged themselves behind the frog. but in place of their familiar natural forms, they appeared now as tall, majestic figures, handsome of mien, and with eyes that outshone the stars. each wore a crown of jewels on his head, while over his shoulders hung a royal mantle of velvet, lined with ermine, the train of which was borne by dwarfs. simultaneously the sound of trumpets, drums, and hautboys filled the air with martial melody, and all the fairies began to dance a ballet, with step so light that the least spring lifted them to the vaulted ceiling of the chamber. the astonishment of the king and his future bride was in no way diminished when the fairy dancers suddenly changed before their eyes into flowers--jasmine, jonquils, violets, roses, and carnations--which carried on the dance just as though they were possessed of legs and feet. it was as though a flower-bed had come to life, every movement of which gave pleasure alike to eye and nostril. a moment later the flowers vanished, and in their place were fountains of leaping water that fell in a cascade and formed a lake beneath the castle walls. on the surface of the lake were little boats, painted and gilt, so pretty and dainty that the princess challenged the ambassadors to a voyage. none hesitated to do so, for they thought it was all a gay pastime, and a merry prelude to the marriage festivities. but no sooner had they embarked than boats, fountains, and lake vanished, and the frogs were frogs once more. 'sire,' said the frog, when the king asked what had become of the princess, 'your wife alone is your queen. were my affection for her less than it is, i should not interfere; but she deserves so well, and your daughter moufette is so charming, that you ought not to lose one moment in setting out to their rescue.' 'i do assure you, madam frog,' replied the king, 'that if i could believe my wife to be alive, i would shrink from nothing in the world for sight of her again.' 'surely,' said the frog, 'after the marvels i have shown you, there ought not to be doubt in your mind of the truth of what i say. leave your realm in the hands of those whom you can trust, and set forth without delay. take this ring--it will provide you with the means of seeing the queen, and of speaking with the lion-witch, notwithstanding that she is the most formidable creature in the world.' the king refused to let any one accompany him, and after bestowing handsome gifts upon the frog, he set forth. 'do not lose heart,' she said to him; 'you will encounter terrible difficulties, but i am convinced that your desires will meet with success.' he plucked up courage at these words, and started upon the quest of his dear wife, though he had only the ring to guide him. now moufette's beauty became more and more perfect as she grew older, and all the monsters of the lake of quicksilver were enamoured of her. hideous and terrifying to behold, they came and lay at her feet. although moufette had seen them ever since she was born, her lovely eyes could never grow accustomed to them, and she would run away and hide in her mother's arms. 'shall we remain here long?' she would ask; 'are we never to escape from misery?' the queen would answer hopefully, so as to keep up the spirits of the child, but in her heart hope had died. the absence of the frog and the lack of any news from her, together with the long time that had passed since she had heard anything of the king, filled her with grief and despair. by now it had become a regular thing for them to go hunting with the lion-witch. the latter liked good things, and enjoyed the game which they killed for her. the head or the feet of the quarry was all the share they got, but there was compensation in being allowed to look again upon the daylight. the witch would take the shape of a lioness, and the queen and her daughter would seat themselves on her back. in this fashion they ranged the forests a-hunting. one day, when the king was resting in a forest to which his ring had guided him, he saw them shoot by like an arrow from the bow. they did not perceive him, and when he tried to follow them he lost sight of them completely. the queen was still as beautiful as of old, despite all that she had suffered, and she seemed to her husband more attractive than ever, so that he longed to have her with him again. he felt certain that the young princess with her was his dear little moufette, and he resolved to face death a thousand times rather than abandon his intention of rescuing her. with the assistance of his ring he penetrated to the gloomy region in which the queen had been for so many years. his astonishment was great to find himself descending to the centre of the earth, but with every new thing that met his eyes his amazement grew greater. the lion-witch, from whom nothing was hid, knew well the day and hour of his destined arrival. much did she wish that the powers in league with her could have ordered things otherwise, but she resolved to pit her strength against his to the full. she built a palace of crystal which floated in the midst of the lake of quicksilver, rising and falling on its waves. therein she imprisoned the queen and her daughter, and assembling the monsters, who were all admirers of moufette, she gave them this warning: 'you will lose this beautiful princess if you do not help me to keep her from a gallant who has come to bear her away.' the monsters vowed that they would do everything in their power, and forthwith they surrounded the palace of crystal. the less heavy stationed themselves upon the roofs and walls, others mounted guard at the doors, while the remainder filled the lake. following the dictates of his faithful ring, the king went first to the witch's cavern. she was waiting for him in the form of a lioness, and the moment he appeared she sprang upon him. but she was not prepared for his valiant swordsmanship, and as she put forth a paw to fell him to the ground, he cut it off at the elbow-joint. she yelped loudly and fell over, whereupon he went up to her and set his foot upon her throat, swearing that he would kill her. notwithstanding her uncontrollable rage, and the fact that she had nothing to fear from wounds, she felt cowed by him. 'what do you seek to do to me?' she asked; 'what do you want of me?' 'i intend to punish you,' replied the king with dignity, 'for having carried away my wife. deliver her up to me, or i will strangle you on the spot.' 'turn your eyes to the lake,' she answered, 'and see if it lies in my power to do so.' the king followed the direction she indicated, and saw the queen and her daughter in the palace of crystal, where it floated like a boat without oars or rudder on the lake of quicksilver. he was like to die of mingled joy and sorrow. he shouted to them at the top of his voice, and they heard him. but how was he to reach them? while he pondered a plan for the accomplishment of this, the lion-witch vanished. he ran round and round the lake, but no sooner did the palace draw near enough, at one point or another, to let him make a spring for it, than it suddenly receded with menacing speed. as often as his hopes were raised they were dashed to the ground. fearing that he would presently tire, the queen cried to him that he must not lose courage, for the lion-witch sought to wear him down, but that true love could brave all obstacles. she stretched out imploring hands, and so did moufette. at sight of this the king felt his courage renewed within him. lifting his voice, he declared that he would rather live the rest of his life in this dismal region than go away without them. patience he certainly needed, for no monarch in the world ever spent such a miserable time. there was only the ground, cumbered with briars and thorns, for bed, and for food he had only wild fruit more bitter than gall. in addition, he was under the perpetual necessity of defending himself from the monsters of the lake. three years went by in this fashion, and the king could not pretend that he had gained the least advantage. he was almost in despair, and many a time was tempted to cast himself into the lake. he would have done so without hesitation had there been any hope that thereby the sufferings of the queen and the princess could be alleviated. one day as he was running, after his custom, from one side of the lake to the other, he was hailed by one of the ugliest of the dragons. 'swear by your crown and sceptre, by your kingly robe, by your wife and child,' said the monster, 'to give me a certain tit-bit to eat for which i have a fancy, whenever i shall ask for it, and i will take you on my back: none of the monsters in this lake which are guarding the palace will prevent us from carrying away the queen and princess moufette.' 'best of dragons!' cried the king; 'i swear to you, and to all of dragon blood, that you shall have your fill of whatsoever you desire, and i will be for ever your devoted servant.' 'promise nothing which you do not mean to fulfil,' replied the dragon; 'for otherwise life-long misfortunes may overwhelm you.' the king repeated his assurances, for he was dying of impatience to regain his beloved queen, and mounted the dragon just as though he were the most dashing of steeds. but now the other monsters rushed to bar the way. the combat was joined, and nought was audible save the hissing of the serpents, nought visible save the brimstone, fire and sulphur, which were belched forth in every direction. the king reached the palace at last, but there fresh efforts were required of him, for the entrances were defended by bats and owls and ravens. but even the boldest of these was torn to pieces by the dragon, who attacked them tooth and nail. the queen, too, who was a spectator of this savage fight, kicked down chunks of the wall, and armed with these helped her dear husband in the fray. victory at length rested with them, and as they flew to one another's arms, the enchantment was brought to an end by a thunderbolt which plunged into the lake and dried it up. the friendly dragon vanished, along with all the other monsters, and the king found himself (by what means he had not the least idea) home again in his own city, and seated, with his queen and moufette beside him, in a splendid dining-hall before a table laid with the richest fare. never before was there such amazement and delight as theirs. the populace came running for a sight of the queen and princess, and to add to the wonder of it all, the latter was seen to be attired in apparel of such magnificence that the gaze was almost dazzled by her jewels. you can easily imagine what festivities now took place at the palace. there were masquerades, and tournaments with tilting at the ring which attracted the highest princes from all over the world; even more were these drawn by the bright eyes of moufette. amongst the handsomest and most accomplished in skill-at-arms, there was none anywhere who could outshine prince moufy. he won the applause and admiration of all, and moufette, who had hitherto known only dragons and serpents, was not backward in according him her share of praise. prince moufy was deeply in love with her, and not a day passed but he showed her some fresh attention in the hope of gaining her favour. in due course he offered himself as a suitor, informing the king and queen that his realm was of a richness and extent that might well claim their favourable consideration. the king replied that moufette should make her own choice of husband, for his only wish was to please her and make her happy. with this answer the prince was well satisfied, for he was already aware that the princess was not indifferent to him. he offered her his hand, and she declared that if he were not to be her husband, then no other man should be. prince moufy threw himself in rapture at her feet, and exacted, lover-like, a promise that she would keep her word with him. the prince and princess were betrothed, and prince moufy then returned to his own realm, in order to make preparations for the marriage. moufette wept much at his going, for she was oppressed by an inexplicable presentiment of evil. the prince likewise was much downcast, and the queen, noticing this, gave him a portrait of her daughter with an injunction to curtail the splendour of his preparations rather than allow his return to be delayed. the prince was nothing loth to obey her behest, and promised to adopt a course which so well consulted his own happiness. the princess amused herself with music during his absence, for in a few months she had learned to play exceedingly well. one day, when she was in the queen's apartment, the king rushed in. tears were streaming down his face as he took his daughter in his arms and cried aloud: 'alas, my child! o wretched father! o miserable king!' sobs choked his utterance, and he could say no more. greatly alarmed, the queen and princess asked him what had happened, and at last he got out that there had just arrived an enormously tall giant, who professed to be an envoy of the dragon of the lake; and that in pursuance of the promise which the king had given in exchange for assistance in fighting the monsters, the dragon demanded that he should give up the princess, as he desired to make her into a pie for dinner. the king added that he had bound himself by solemn oaths to give the dragon what he asked--and in the days of which we are telling no one ever broke his word. the queen received this dire news with piercing shrieks, and clasped her child to her bosom. 'my life shall be forfeit,' she cried, 'ere my daughter is delivered up to this monster. let him rather take our kingdom and all that we have. unnatural father! is it possible you can consent to such cruelty? what! my child to be made into a pie! the bare notion is intolerable! send this grim envoy to me; it may be the spectacle of my anguish will soften his heart.' the king said nothing, but went in quest of the giant. he brought him to the queen, who flung herself at his feet with her daughter. she begged him to have mercy, and to persuade the dragon to take all that they possessed, but to spare moufette's life. the giant replied, however, that the matter did not rest with him. the dragon, he said, was so obstinate, and so addicted to the pleasures of the table, that no power on earth would restrain him from eating what he had a mind to make a meal of. furthermore, he counselled them, as a friend, to yield with a good grace lest greater ills should be in store. at these words the queen fainted, and the princess would have been in similar case, if she had not been obliged to go to the assistance of her mother. no sooner was the dreadful news known throughout the palace than it spread all over the city. on all sides there was weeping and wailing, for moufette was greatly beloved. the king could not bring himself to give her up to the giant, and the latter, after waiting several days, grew restive and began to utter terrible threats. but the king and queen, taking counsel together, were agreed. 'what is there worse that could happen to us?' they said; 'if the dragon of the lake were to come and eat us all up, we could not suffer more, for if moufette is put into a pie that will be the end of us.' presently the giant informed them that he had received a message from the dragon, to the effect that if the princess would agree to marry one of his nephews, he would spare her life. this nephew was not only young and handsome, but a prince to boot; and there was no doubt of her being able to live very happily with him. this proposal somewhat assuaged their grief, but when the queen mentioned it to the princess, she found her more ready to face death than entertain this marriage. 'i cannot break faith just to save my life,' said moufette; 'you promised me to prince moufy, and i will marry none else. let me perish, for my death will enable you to live in peace.' the king in his turn tried, with many endearments, to persuade her, but she could not be moved. finally, therefore, it was arranged that she should be conducted to a mountain-top, there to await the dragon. everything was made ready for the great sacrificial rite, and nothing so mournful had ever been seen before. black garments and pale, distraught faces were encountered at every turn. four hundred maidens of the noblest birth, clad in long white robes and wearing crowns of cypress, accompanied the princess. the latter was borne in an open litter of black velvet, that all men might behold the wondrous miracle of her beauty. her tresses, tied with crape, hung over her shoulders, and she wore a crown of jasmine and marigolds. the only thing that seemed to affect her was the grief of the king and queen, who walked behind her, overwhelmed with the burden of their sorrow. beside the litter strode the giant, armed from top to toe, and looking hungrily at the princess, as though already he savoured his share of the dish she was to make. the air was filled with sighs and sobs, and the tears of the spectators made rivulets along the road. 'o frog, dear frog,' cried the queen; 'you have indeed forsaken me! why give me help in that dismal place and refuse it to me here? had i but died then, i should not now be mourning the end of all my hopes, and i should have been spared the agony of waiting to see my darling moufette devoured.' slowly the procession made its way to the summit of the fatal mountain. on arrival there the cries and lamentations broke out with renewed force, and a more pitiful noise was never heard before. the giant then directed that all farewells must be said, and a general withdrawal made, and his order was obeyed. folks in those days were docile and obedient, and never thought of combating ill-fortune. the king and queen, with all the court, now climbed another hill-top, from which they could obtain a view of all that happened to the princess. they had not long to wait, for they quickly espied a dragon, half a league long, sailing through the sky. he flew laboriously, for his bulk was so great that even six large wings could hardly support it. his body was covered all over with immense blue scales and tongues of poison flame, his twisted tail had fifty coils and another half coil beyond that, while his claws were each as big as a windmill. his jaws were agape, and inside could be seen three rows of teeth as long as an elephant's tusks. now while the dragon was slowly wending his way to the mountain-top, the good and faithful frog, mounted on a hawk's back, was flying at full speed to prince moufy. she was wearing her cap of roses, and though he was locked in his privy chamber she needed no key to enter. 'hapless lover!' she cried; 'what are you doing here? this very moment, while you sit dreaming about her beauty, moufette is in direst peril! see, here is a rose-leaf; i have but to blow upon it and it will become a mettlesome steed.' as she spoke there suddenly appeared a green horse. it had twelve hoofs and three heads, and from the latter it could spit forth fire, bomb-shells, and cannon-balls respectively. the frog then gave the prince a sword, eight yards long and no heavier than a feather, and a garment fashioned out of a single diamond. this he slipped on like a coat, and though it was hard as rock it was so pliant that his movements were in no way impeded. 'now fly to the rescue of your love,' said the frog; 'the green horse will carry you to her. do not omit to let her know, when you have delivered her, of what my part has been.' 'great-hearted fairy!' cried the prince, 'this is no moment to return you thanks, but from henceforth i am your faithful servant.' off went the horse with the three heads, galloping on its twelve hoofs three times as fast, and more, than the best of ordinary steeds; and in a very short time the prince had reached the mountain, where he found his dear princess all alone. as the dragon slowly drew near, the green horse began to throw out fire, bomb-shells, and cannon-balls, which greatly disconcerted the monster. twenty balls lodged in his throat, his scaly armour was dinted, and the bomb-shells put out one of his eyes. this enraged him, and he tried to hurl himself upon the prince. but the latter's long sword was so finely tempered that he could do what he liked with it, and now he plunged it in up to the hilt, now cut with it as though it had been a whip. the prince would have suffered, however, from the dragon's claws had it not been for his diamond coat, which was impenetrable. moufette had recognised her lover from afar, for the gleaming diamond which covered him was transparent; and she was like to die of terror at the risk he ran. the king and queen, however, felt hope revive within them. they had little thought to see arriving so opportunely a horse with three heads and twelve hoofs that breathed forth fire and flame, nor yet a prince, in diamond mail, and armed with so redoubtable a sword, who performed such prodigies of valour. the king put his hat on the end of his stick, the queen tied a handkerchief to hers, and with all the court following suit, there was no lack of signals of encouragement to the prince. not that such were necessary, for his own stout heart and the peril in which he saw moufette were enough to keep his courage up. heavens, how he fought! barbs, talons, horns, wings, and scales fell from the dragon till the ground was covered with them, and the soil was dyed blue and green with the mingled blood of dragon and horse. five times the prince was unhorsed, but each time he picked himself up and composedly mounted his steed again. then would follow such cannonades, bombardments, and flame-throwing as had never been seen or heard of before. at length, its strength exhausted, the dragon fell, and the prince delivered a finishing stroke. none could believe their eyes when from the gaping wound so made there stepped forth a handsome and elegant prince, clad in a coat of blue and gold velvet, embroidered with pearls, and wearing on his head a little grecian helmet with a crest of white feathers. with outstretched hands this new-comer ran to prince moufy and embraced him. 'how can i ever repay you, my gallant deliverer?' he cried. 'never was monarch confined in a more dreadful prison than the one from which you have freed me. it is sixteen years since the lion-witch condemned me to it, and i have languished there ever since. moreover, such is her power that she would have obliged me, against my will, to devour that sweet princess. i beg you to let me pay my respects to her, and explain my hapless plight!' astonished and delighted by the remarkable way in which his adventure had ended, prince moufy lavished courtesies upon the newly-discovered prince. together they went to moufette, who rendered thanks a thousand times to providence for her unexpected happiness. already the king and queen and all the court had joined her, and everybody spoke at once, and nobody listened to anybody, while nearly as many tears were shed for joy as a little time ago had been shed for grief. and finally, to set the crown on their rejoicing, the good frog was espied flying through the air on her hawk. the latter had little golden bells upon its feet, and when the faint tinkling of these caused every one to look up, there was the frog, beautiful as the dawn, with her cap of roses shining like the sun. the queen ran to her and took her by one of her little paws. at that instant the wise frog was transformed into a majestic royal lady of gracious mien. 'i come,' she cried, 'to crown the faithful moufette, who preferred to face death rather than break her word to prince moufy.' with these words she placed two myrtle wreaths upon the lovers' heads; and at a signal of three taps from her wand the dragon's bones rose up and formed a triumphal arch to commemorate the auspicious occasion. back to the city went all the company, singing wedding songs as gladly as they had previously with sorrow bewailed the sacrifice of the princess. on the morrow the marriage took place, and with what festivities it was solemnised may be left to the imagination. princess rosette once upon a time there lived a king and queen who had two handsome boys, and so well looked after were the latter that they grew apace, like the daylight. the queen never had a child without summoning the fairies to be present at the birth, and she always begged them to tell what its future was to be. when in due course she had a beautiful little daughter--so pretty that one could not set eyes on her without loving her--all the fairies came to visit her, and were hospitably entertained. as they were making ready to go, the queen said to them: 'do not forget your friendly custom, but tell me what fortune awaits rosette.' such was the name which had been given to the little princess. the fairies replied that they had left their magic books at home, but would come and see her some other time. 'ah,' said the queen, 'that bodes ill. you are anxious not to distress me by an unhappy prophecy. but tell me all, i implore you, and hide nothing from me.' the fairies did their utmost to excuse themselves. but the queen became more and more eager to learn everything, and at last the chief of them made a declaration. 'we fear, madam,' she said, 'that rosette will bring disaster on her brothers, and that in some fashion she will be the cause of their death. this much and no more can we foretell of the pretty child, and we are grieved that we should have no better news to give you.' then the fairies went away, and the queen was left grieving. so deep was her grief that the king saw it in her face, and asked what ailed her. she had gone too near the fire, she told him, and had burnt all the flax that was on her distaff. 'is that all?' said the king, and going up to his storeroom he brought her more flax than she could have spun in a hundred years. but the queen continued sad, and again the king asked what ailed her. she declared that in walking by the river she had let her green satin slipper fall into the water. 'is that all?' said the king, and summoning all the shoemakers in the kingdom he brought her ten thousand green satin slippers. still she grieved, and once more he asked what ailed her. she told him that in eating with rather too vigorous an appetite she had swallowed her wedding-ring, which had been on her finger. the king knew at once that she was not telling the truth, for he had put away this ring himself. 'my dear wife,' he said, 'you lie; i put away your ring in my purse--here it is!' she was not a little confused at being caught telling a lie (for there is nothing in the world so ugly), and she saw that the king was displeased. she told him, therefore, what the fairies had prophesied of little rosette, and implored him to say if he could think of any good remedy. the king was plunged in the deepest melancholy, so much so that he remarked on one occasion to the queen: 'i see no other means of saving our two sons but to bring about the death of our little child while she is still in long clothes.' but the queen exclaimed that she would rather suffer death herself. she would never consent, she declared, to such a cruel course, and he must think of something else. the royal pair were at their wits' end when the queen was told that in a forest near the city there lived an aged hermit. his habitation was a hollow tree, and folks were wont to seek his advice upon all manner of things. 'i too must go there,' said the queen; 'the fairies have warned me of the evil, but they have forgotten to tell me of the remedy.' she rose betimes and mounted a dainty little white mule that was shod with gold, and took with her two of her ladies, each riding a bonny horse. when they had entered the wood they dismounted, as a sign of deference, and presented themselves at the tree where the hermit lived. the latter had an aversion from the sight of women, but on recognising the queen he addressed her. 'you are welcome,' he said; 'what do you want of me?' she told him what the fairies had said of rosette, and begged for advice. his reply was that the princess must be placed in a tower and never be allowed to leave it. the queen tendered her thanks, and having bestowed liberal alms upon him, returned to tell everything to the king. when the king had heard her news he gave orders at once for a great tower to be built. in this the princess was shut up, and to keep her amused the king and queen and her two brothers went every day to see her. the elder boy was known as the big prince, and the younger as the little prince. both were passionately attached to their sister, for she had such beauty and charm as had never been seen before. for the lightest of looks from her many would have paid a hundred gold pieces and more. when the princess was fifteen years old the big prince spoke of her to his father. 'my sister is old enough now to marry, sire,' he said; 'shall we not soon be celebrating her wedding?' the little prince said the same thing to his mother. but their royal parents turned the conversation and made no answer on the subject of the marriage. one day the king and queen were stricken by a grievous malady, and died almost within twenty-four hours. throughout the realm there was mourning; every one wore black, and on all sides the tolling of bells was heard. rosette was grieved beyond consolation by the death of her dear mother. but when the royal dead had been interred, the noblemen of the realm set the big prince upon a throne of gold and diamonds, robed him in purple velvet embroidered with suns and moons, and placed a splendid crown upon his head. then all the court cried aloud three times: 'long live the king!' and there followed universal festivities and rejoicings. 'now that we are in power,' said the king and his brother as soon as they could converse in private, 'we must release our sister from the tower in which she has languished so long.' they had only to cross the garden to reach the tower, which was built in a corner. it had been reared as high as possible, for it had been the intention of the late king and queen that their daughter should remain in it for life. rosette was busy with embroidery when her brothers entered, but on catching sight of them she rose and left the frame at which she was working. taking the king's hand, she said: 'good-morrow, sire; you are king to-day, and i am your humble servant. i implore you to release me from the tower in which i have been languishing so long.' and with these words she burst into tears. the king embraced her and told her not to weep, for he had come to take her from the tower and establish her in a beautiful castle. the prince, who had brought a pocketful of sweets to give to rosette, added his word. 'come,' he said, 'let us leave this hateful tower, and do not be unhappy any longer. very soon the king will find a husband for you.' when rosette saw the beautiful garden, with all its flowers and fruit and its many fountains, she was overcome with amazement and could not speak a word. she had never before seen anything of the kind. she looked about her on all sides, and then ran hither and thither, picking the fruit from the trees and the flowers from the beds, while her little dog frillikin (who was as green as a parrot, had only one ear, and could dance deliciously) capered in front of her, yapping his loudest, and amusing everybody present by his absurd gambols. [illustration: _princess rosette_] presently frillikin dashed into a little copse, and the princess followed. never was any one so struck with wonder as she, to behold there a great peacock with tail outspread. so beautiful, so exquisitely and perfectly beautiful did it seem to her that she could not take away her eyes. when the king and the prince joined her they asked what it was that had so taken her fancy. she pointed to the peacock and asked what it was, to which they replied that it was a bird that was sometimes served at table. 'what?' she cried; 'a bird so beautiful as that to be killed and eaten? i tell you, i will marry no one but the king of the peacocks, and when i am queen no one shall ever eat such a dish again!' no words can express the astonishment of the king. 'my dear sister,' he said, 'where do you suppose that we are to find the king of the peacocks?' 'wherever you please, sire,' was the answer; 'but i will marry none but him!' after having announced this decision she allowed her brothers to escort her to their castle. but so great was the fancy she had taken to the peacock that she insisted on its being brought and placed in her apartment. all the ladies of the court, by whom rosette had never yet been seen, now hastened to pay their dutiful respects. gifts of every kind were proffered to her--sweetmeats and sugar, gay ribbons, and dresses of cloth-of-gold, dolls, slippers richly embroidered, with many pearls and diamonds. all did their best to show her attention, and she displayed such charming manners, kissing hands and curtseying so graciously when any gift was offered to her, that not a gentleman or lady of the court but left her presence loud in her praise. while the princess was being thus entertained, the king and the prince were taking counsel as to how they could find the king of the peacocks, supposing such a person did really exist. in pursuit of the plan which they formed a portrait was painted of the princess rosette, and so cunningly wrought was this picture that only speech seemed wanting to make it live. then they said to their sister: 'since you will marry none but the king of the peacocks, we are setting forth together in quest of him through the wide world. if we find him we shall be well rewarded. wait for our return, and take care of our kingdom while we are away.' rosette thanked them for the trouble they were taking, and promised to govern the kingdom well. she declared that while they were away her only pleasures would be to admire the beautiful peacock and make frillikin dance. their adieux were said with many tears. behold, then, the royal pair upon their travels, asking of all whom they met: 'do you know the king of the peacocks?' the reply from all was 'no, we do not.' then the travellers would pass on and go further, journeying in this way so far, far away that no one had ever been so far before. at last they reached the kingdom of the cockchafers, and the latter in their myriads made so loud a buzzing that the king thought he would go deaf. he asked one who seemed more intelligent than the rest if he knew whereabouts the king of the peacocks was to be found. 'sire,' said the cockchafer, 'his kingdom is thirty thousand leagues away; you have taken the longest road to get there.' 'how do you know that?' asked the king. 'because we know you well,' replied the cockchafer; 'every year we spend two or three months in your garden!' the king and his brother embraced the cockchafer warmly, and struck up a great friendship. arm in arm they all went off to dinner, over which the visitors expressed their astonishment at the remarkable features of this country, where the smallest leaf from a tree was worth a gold piece. presently they set off for their destination, and as they now knew the road they were not long in reaching it. they observed that all the trees were full of peacocks; indeed the place held so many of them that their screaming as they talked could be heard two leagues away. 'if the king of the peacocks is himself a peacock,' said the king to his brother, 'how can our sister dream of marrying him? it would be folly to sanction it. a nice set of relatives she would present to us--a lot of little peacocks for nephews!' the prince was equally uneasy in his mind. 'it was an unfortunate notion to come into her head,' he declared; 'i cannot imagine how she ever came to think that such a person as the king of the peacocks existed.' when they reached the city they found it peopled with men and women, but the latter all wore garments fashioned out of peacocks' feathers; and from the profusion in which these objects were everywhere to be seen it was plain that they were regarded with an intense admiration. they encountered the king of the peacocks, who was out for a drive in a splendid little chariot of gold, studded with diamonds, drawn by a dozen galloping peacocks. the king of the peacocks, fair of complexion, with a crown of peacocks' feathers surmounting his long and curly yellow locks, was so extremely handsome that the king and prince were delighted with his appearance. he guessed from their clothes, so different from those of the natives, that they were strangers; but to make sure he caused his carriage to stop and summoned them to him. the king and the prince advanced to meet him, and bowed low. 'we have come from far away, sire,' they said, 'in order to show you a portrait.' with these words they drew from the pack which they carried the magnificent portrait of rosette. 'i do not believe,' said the king of the peacocks, when he had looked long and well at it, 'that the world holds so beautiful a maiden.' 'she is a hundred times more beautiful than that,' said the king. 'you are joking,' said the king of the peacocks. 'sire,' said the prince, 'this is my brother, who is a monarch like yourself: men call him king. for myself, i am known as prince. this portrait shows our sister, the princess rosette. we are here to ask if you are willing to marry her. she has good sense as well as good looks, and we will give her for dowry a bushel of golden crowns.' 'why, certainly,' said the king of the peacocks, 'i will marry her with all my heart. i promise she shall want for nothing, and i will love her truly. but i would have you know that she must be as beautiful as her picture, and that if she falls short of it by the least little bit, i will put you to death.' 'we accept the conditions,' said rosette's two brothers. 'you accept?' said the king of the peacocks. 'then you must bide in prison until the princess has arrived.' the royal brothers raised no objection to this, for they knew well that rosette was more beautiful than her portrait. the king of the peacocks saw to it that his captives were well looked after, and went often to visit them. the portrait of rosette was placed in his palace, and he was so taken up with it that, night or day, he could scarcely sleep. from prison the king and the prince sent a letter to the princess telling her to pack at once all she might require and come as quickly as possible, for the king of the peacocks awaited her. they did not dare to mention that they were in prison, lest she should be too uneasy. when the princess received this letter her transports of delight were enough to kill her. she announced to every one that the king of the peacocks had been found, and desired to wed her. bonfires were lit, guns fired, and sugar and sweetmeats eaten in abundance; while for three days every one who came to see the princess was treated to bread and butter with jam, and cakes and ale. having dispensed hospitality in this liberal fashion, the princess gave all her beautiful dolls to her dearest friends, and entrusted her brother's realm to the wisest elders of the city. she bade them take care of everything, spend as little as possible, and save money until the king should return. at the same time she begged them to look after her peacock. taking with her only her nurse and foster-sister, and her little green dog frillikin, she embarked on a vessel and put out to sea. they had with them the bushel of golden crowns, and clothes enough to last for ten years, with a change of dress twice a day; and they did nothing but laugh and sing on the voyage. presently the nurse said to the boatman: 'tell me, tell me, are we near the land of peacocks?' 'not yet, not yet,' replied the boatman. a little later she asked again: 'tell me, tell me, are we near it now?' 'presently, presently,' replied the boatman. once more she asked: 'tell me, tell me, are we near it now?' [illustration: _the wicked nurse_] 'very near, very near,' said the boatman. when he answered thus the nurse sat down beside him in the stern of the boat. 'if you like, you can be rich for ever,' she said to him. 'i should like that well,' replied the boatman. 'if you like,' she went on, 'you can gain good money.' 'i ask nothing better,' said he. 'very well, then,' said the nurse; 'to-night, when the princess is asleep, you must help me to throw her into the sea. when she is drowned i will dress up my daughter in her fine clothes, and we will take her to the king of the peacocks, who will be delighted to marry her. you shall have your fill of diamonds as reward.' the boatman was taken aback by this suggestion from the nurse. he declared it was a pity to drown so beautiful a princess, and that he had compassion for her. but the nurse fetched a bottle of wine, and plied him with drink until he no longer had wits enough left to refuse. when night fell the princess went to sleep, according to her usual practice, with little frillikin comfortably curled up at the foot of the bed, stirring not a paw. when rosette was fast asleep the wicked nurse, who had remained awake, went to find the boatman. she took him to the cabin where the princess lay, and with the help of the foster-sister they lifted her up--feather-bed, mattress, sheets, blankets, and all--without disturbing her, and threw her into the sea just as she was. so soundly did the princess slumber that she never woke up. now luckily her bed was made of feathers from the phoenix, which are very rare and have this peculiar virtue that they never sink in water. consequently the princess went floating along in her bed, just as though she were in a boat. presently, however, the water began little by little to lap first against the sides of the feather-bed, then against the mattress, until rosette began to feel uncomfortable. she turned over restlessly, and frillikin woke up. he had a very keen nose, and when he scented the soles and the cod-fish so near at hand he began yapping. he barked so loudly that he woke up all the other fish, and they began to swim round and about. some of the big fish bumped their heads against the bed, and there being nothing to steady the latter it spun round and round like a top. you may imagine how astonished the princess was! 'is our vessel doing a dance upon the water?' she exclaimed; 'i do not remember ever to have been so uncomfortable as i am to-night.' and all the time frillikin was barking as though he had taken leave of his senses. the wicked nurse and the boatman heard him from afar. 'do you hear that?' they exclaimed; 'it is that funny little dog drinking our very good health with his mistress! let us make haste and get ashore.' by this time, you must understand, they were lying off the capital of the king of the peacocks. a hundred carriages had been sent to the water's edge by the king. these were drawn by animals of every kind--lions, bears, stags, wolves, horses, oxen, asses, eagles, and peacocks. the carriage in which princess rosette was to be borne was drawn by six blue monkeys which could leap and dance upon the tight-rope and perform endless amusing antics; these had trappings of crimson velvet, studded with gold plates. sixty young girls awaited the coming of the princess. they had been selected by the king to be her maids of honour, and their attire, of every colour of the rainbow, shone with ornaments of which gold and silver were the least precious. the nurse had taken great pains over the toilette of her daughter. she had decked her out in rosette's most beautiful gown, and placed her diamonds on her head. but nothing could disguise the fact that she was an ugly little fright. her hair was black and greasy, she was cross-eyed and bow-legged, and in the middle of her back she had a big hump. moreover she was ill-tempered and sulky, and was for ever grumbling. [illustration: '_she was an ugly little fright_'] when the people of peacock land saw her disembark they were so completely taken aback that none could say a word. 'what's the matter with you all?' she demanded; 'have you all gone to sleep? bring me something to eat at once, do you hear? i'll have the lot of you hanged, precious riff-raff that you are!' 'what a horrible creature!' murmured the citizens amongst themselves, when they heard these threats; 'as ill-tempered as she is ugly! a nice bride for our king, or i am much mistaken! it was hardly worth the trouble to bring her all the way across the world.' the girl meantime continued to behave in most domineering fashion, giving slaps and blows to every one without the slightest provocation. the procession, being very large, was obliged to move slowly, and as the carriage bore her along she comported herself as though she were a queen. but all the peacocks, who had perched upon the trees to greet her as she passed, and had arranged to call out 'long live the beautiful queen rosette!' cried out when they saw how horrible she was: 'fie! fie! how ugly she is!' this enraged her, and she called out to her escort: 'kill those impudent peacocks: they are insulting me!' but the peacocks flew nimbly away, and laughed at her. the rascally boatman was witness of all that occurred, and whispered to the nurse: 'things are not going well for us, my good woman: your daughter should have been prettier.' 'hold your tongue, stupid!' she replied; 'or you will get us into trouble.' word was brought to the king that the princess was approaching. 'well,' said he; 'did her brothers speak the truth? is she more beautiful than her portrait?' 'sire,' said the courtiers, 'if she is only as beautiful, that should be enough.' 'very true!' exclaimed the king. 'i shall be content with that. let us go and see her.' he could tell from the din which arose from the courtyard that the princess had arrived, but the only words he could hear plainly amidst the hubbub were cries of 'fie! fie! how ugly she is!' he supposed people must be referring to some dwarf or pet creature which she had perhaps brought with her, for it never entered his head that it could be the princess herself who was meant. the portrait of rosette, uncovered, was hoisted on the end of a long pole, and carried in front of the king, who walked in state with his barons and peacocks, and the ambassadors from neighbouring kingdoms in his train. great was the impatience of the king of the peacocks to behold his dear rosette; but when at length he did set eyes on her--gracious heavens, it was a wonder the shock did not kill him on the spot! he flew into a most terrible rage, rending his clothes, and refusing to go near her. indeed, she frightened him. 'what!' he cried; 'have those two dastardly prisoners the impudence to mock me thus, and propose that i should wed such a loathsome creature as that? they shall die for it! away with that hussy and her nurse, and the fellow who brought them here; cast them into the dungeon of my keep!' now the king and his brother, who had heard in prison that their sister was expected, had attired themselves handsomely to receive her. but instead of the prison being opened and their liberty restored, as they had anticipated, there came the gaoler with a squad of soldiers, and made them descend into a black dungeon, swarming with vile creatures, where the water was up to their necks. never were two people more astounded or more distressed. 'alas!' they cried to each other; 'this is a doleful wedding feast for us! what has brought this unhappy fate upon us?' they did not know what in the world to think, except that it was desired to compass their death, and this reflection filled them with melancholy. three days passed and they heard not a word of anything. at the end of the third day the king of the peacocks came and hurled insults at them through a hole in the wall. 'you called yourselves king and prince to trap me,' he shouted to them, 'and sought thus to make me promise to wed your sister. but you are nought but a couple of beggars, not worth the water you drink. you shall be sent for trial, and the judges will make short work of your case--the rope to hang you with is being plaited already!' 'not so fast, king of the peacocks,' replied the captive monarch, angrily, 'or you will have cause to repent it! i am a king like yourself: i rule over a fair land, i have robes and crowns and treasure in plenty. i pledge my all to the truth of what i say. you must be joking to talk of hanging us--of what have we robbed you?' the king of the peacocks hardly knew what to make of this bold and confident challenge. he was almost of a mind to spare their lives and let them take their sister away. but his chancellor, an arrant flatterer, egged him on, whispering that if he did not avenge himself, he would be the laughing-stock of the whole world, and would be looked upon as a mere twopenny-halfpenny monarch. thus influenced, he vowed he would not pardon them, and ordered their trial to take place. this did not take long, for it was only necessary to compare side by side the portrait of the true princess rosette with the actual person who had come in her place and claimed identity with her. the prisoners were forthwith condemned to have their heads cut off as a penalty for lying, in that they brought the king an ugly little peasant girl after promising a beautiful princess. the sentence was read with great ceremony at the prison, but the victims protested that they had spoken the truth, that their sister was indeed a princess, and that there was something at the back of all this which they did not understand. they asked for a respite of seven days, that they might have an opportunity of establishing their innocence; and though the king of the peacock's wrath was such that he had great difficulty in granting this concession, he agreed to it at length. something must now be told of what was happening to poor princess rosette while all these events were taking place at the court. great was her astonishment, and frillikin's also, to find herself, when day came, in mid-ocean without boat or any means of assistance. she fell to weeping, and cried so long and bitterly that all the fishes were moved to compassion. she knew not what to do, nor what would become of her. 'there is no doubt,' she said, 'that i have been thrown into the sea by order of the king of the peacocks. he has regretted his promise to marry me, and to be rid of me without fuss he has had me drowned. a strange way for a man to behave! and i should have loved him so much, and we should have been so happy together!' these thoughts made her weep the more, for she could not dispel her fancy for him. [illustration: '_she floated hither and thither_'] for two days she floated hither and thither over the sea, soaked to the skin, nigh dead with cold, and so nearly benumbed that but for little frillikin, who snuggled to her bosom, and kept a little warmth in her, she must have perished a hundred times. she was famished with hunger, but on seeing some oysters in their shells she took and ate as many as would appease her. frillikin did the same, but only to keep himself alive, for he did not like them. when night fell rosette was filled with terror. 'bark, frillikin,' she said to her dog; 'keep on barking, or the soles will come and eat us!' so frillikin barked all night. [illustration: '_a kindly old man_'] when morning came the bed was not far off the shore. hereabouts there lived, all alone, a kindly old man. his home was a little hut where no one ever came, and as he had no desire for worldly goods he was very poor. he was astonished when he heard the barking of frillikin, for no dogs ever came that way; and supposing that some travellers must have missed their road, he went out with the good-natured intention of putting them right. suddenly he saw the princess and frillikin floating out at sea. the princess caught sight of him, and stretching out her arms to him, cried: 'save me, kind old man, or i shall perish; two whole days have i been floating thus.' he was filled with pity when he heard her speak thus dolefully, and went to his house to fetch a big crook. he waded out till the water was up to his neck, and after being nearly drowned two or three times he succeeded in grappling the bed and drawing it to the shore. rosette and frillikin were delighted to find themselves once more on land. rosette thanked the good man warmly. she accepted the offer of his cloak, and having wrapped herself in it walked barefoot to his hut. there he lit a little fire of dry straw, and took from a chest his dead wife's best dress, with a pair of stockings and shoes, which the princess put on. clad thus in peasant's attire, with frillikin gambolling round her to amuse her, she looked as beautiful as ever. the old man saw plainly that rosette was a great lady, for the coverlets of her bed were of gold and silver, and her mattress of satin. he begged her to tell him her story, promising not to repeat a word if she so desired. she related everything from beginning to end--not without tears, for she still believed that the king of the peacocks had meant her to be drowned. 'what are we to do, my child?' said the old man. 'a great lady like you is accustomed to live on dainties, and i have only black bread and radishes--very poor fare for you. but i will go, if you will let me, and tell the king of the peacocks that you are here. there is not the least doubt he will marry you, once he has seen you.' 'he is a bad man,' said rosette; 'he wanted me to die. if only you can supply me with a small basket to fasten on my dog's neck, it will be exceedingly bad luck if he does not bring us back something to eat.' the old man handed a basket to the princess, and she hung it round frillikin's neck with these words: 'find the best stew-pot in the town, and bring me back whatever is inside it.' off went frillikin to the town, and as he could think of no better stew-pot than the king's, he made his way into the royal kitchen. having found the stew-pot, he cleverly extricated its contents and returned to the house. 'now go back to the larder,' said rosette, 'and bring the best that you can find there.' away went frillikin to the larder and took some white bread, some choice wine, and an assortment of fruit and sweets. in fact, he took as much as he could carry. when the king of the peacocks should have dined there was nothing in the stew-pot and nothing in the larder. everybody gazed blankly at everybody else, and the king flew into a terrible rage. 'oh, very good,' said he; 'it seems i am to have no dinner! well, put the spits to the fire, and see to it that some good roast joints are ready for me this evening!' when evening came the princess said to frillikin: 'find the best kitchen in the town and bring me a nice roast joint.' off went frillikin to carry out this order from his mistress. thinking there could be no better kitchen than the king's, he slipped in quietly when the cooks' backs were turned, and took off the spit a roast joint, which looked so good that the mere sight of it gave one an appetite. his basket was full when he brought it back to the princess, but she sent him off again to the larder, and from there he carried away all the king's sweetmeats and dessert. the king was exceedingly hungry, having had no dinner, and ordered supper betimes. but there was nothing to eat, and he went to bed in a frightful temper. next day at dinner and supper it was just the same. for three days the king had nothing to eat or drink, for every time he sat down at table it was found that everything had been stolen. the chancellor, being very much afraid that the king would die, went and hid in a corner of the kitchen, whence he could keep the stew-pot on the fire constantly in view. to his astonishment he saw a little green dog, with only one ear, creep in stealthily, take the lid off the pot, and transfer the meat to his basket. he followed it in order to find out where it went, and saw it leave the town. still pursuing, he came to the house of the good old man. he went immediately to the king and told him that it was to a poor peasant's house that every morning and evening his dinner and supper vanished. the king was mightily astonished, and ordered investigations to be made. the chancellor, to curry favour, volunteered to go himself, and took with him a posse of archers. they found the old man at dinner with the princess, and the pair of them eating the king's provisions. they seized and bound them with strong ropes, not forgetting to deal in like manner with frillikin. 'to-morrow,' said the king, when he was told that the prisoners had arrived, 'the seven days' grace expires which i granted to those miscreants who insulted me. they shall go to execution with the stealers of my dinner.' when the king of the peacocks entered the court of justice the old man flung himself on his knees, and declared that he would narrate all that had happened. as he told his story the king eyed the beautiful princess, and was touched by her weeping. when presently the good man declared that her name was the princess rosette, and that she had been thrown into the sea, he bounded three times into the air, despite the weak state in which he was after going so long without food, and ran to embrace her. as he undid the cords which bound her he cried out that he loved her with all his heart. [illustration: decoration] a guard had been sent for the princes, who approached just then. they came sadly with bowed heads, for they believed the hour of their execution had come. the nurse and her daughter were brought in at the same moment. recognition was instant on all sides. rosette flung herself into her brothers' arms, while the nurse and her daughter, with the boatman, fell on their knees and prayed for clemency. so joyous was the occasion that the king and the princess pardoned them. the good old man was handsomely rewarded, and given quarters at the palace for the rest of his life. finally, the king of the peacocks made all amends in his power to the royal brothers, expressing his deep regret at having ill-treated them. the nurse delivered up to rosette her beautiful dresses and the bushel of golden crowns, and the wedding festivities lasted for fifteen days. every one was happy, not excepting frillikin, who ate nothing but partridge wings for the rest of his life. [illustration: decoration] the end edinburgh: printed by t. and a. constable ltd. transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_. other than the corrections listed below, printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained. the following misprints have been corrected: changed "book-case" into bookcase page 127 added ' before i am sure,' page 120 added ' after there are no flies here, page 145 added ' after possibly carry out. page 145 illustrations have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest paragraph break. the blossoms of morality; intended for the amusement and instruction of young ladies and gentlemen. by the editor of the looking-glass for the mind. with forty-seven cuts, designed and engraved by [illustration: i. bewick] _the fourth edition._ london: printed by j. swan, 76, fleet street, for j. harris; scatcherd and letterman; b. crosby and co. darton and harvey; lackington, allen, and co. j. walker; and vernor and hood. 1806. preface. the very flattering encouragement the public have been pleased to give "the looking-glass for the mind, or intellectual mirror," has invited the editor of that work to intrude once more on their indulgence. as a general preceptor, he wishes to be useful to the rising generation, and with that view recommends to their serious perusal "the blossoms of morality." the looking-glass is a _very free_ translation of some of the most interesting tales of mons. berquin, and other foreign writers, whose works in the juvenile line undoubtedly merit the highest encomiums, and claim the most extensive patronage of their fellow-citizens. it certainly must be allowed, that great merit is due to those foreign celebrated writers, who, after studying the higher branches of literature, instead of attempting to acquire honour and fame by delivering lectures on the abstruse sciences, have condescended to humble themselves to the plain language of youth, in order to teach them wisdom, virtue, and morality. with respect to the present work, though we have not so largely borrowed from foreign writers, yet we have endeavoured to supply that deficiency by the introduction of original matter. the juvenile mind very early begins to enlarge and expand, and is capable of reflection much sooner than we are generally apt to imagine. from these considerations, we have carried our ideas in this volume one step higher than in the last: and, though we have given many tales that may contribute to amuse the youthful mind, yet we have occasionally introduced subjects which, we hope, will not fail to exercise their judgment, improve their morals, and give them some knowledge of the world. for instance: in the history of ernestus and fragilis, which is the first, and one of the original pieces inserted in this volume, the youthful reader is led to reflect on the instability of all human affairs; he is taught to be neither insolent in prosperity nor mean in adversity; but is shown how necessary it is to preserve an equality of temper through all the varying stages of fortune. he is also shown, how dangerous are the indulgences of parents, who suffer children to give themselves up to indolence and luxury, which generally, as in this history, terminate in a manner fatal to all the parties concerned. may these blossoms of morality, in due time, ripen to maturity, and produce fruit that may be pleasing to the youthful taste, tend to correct the passions, invigorate the mental faculties, and confirm in their hearts true and solid sentiments of virtue, wisdom, and glory. contents. _ernestus and fragilis_ page 7 _juvenile tyranny conquered_ 19 _the book of nature_ 28 _the unexpected reformation_ 39 _the recompence of virtue_ 49 _the pleasures of contentment_ 58 _the happy effects of sunday schools on the morals of the rising generation_ 68 _the happy villager_ 76 _the indolent beauty_ 86 _an oriental tale_ 98 _generosity rewarded_ 104 _an evening vision_ 109 _the anxieties of royalty_ 113 _the generous punishment_ 124 _female courage properly considered_ 134 _the beautiful statue_ 141 _dorcas and amarillis_ 156 _the conversation_ 170 _edwin and matilda_ 188 _the pious hermit_ 197 _the caprice of fortune_ 207 _the melancholy effects of pride_ 216 _the nettle and the rose_ 224 [illustration] _ernestus and fragilis._ the faint glimmerings of the pale-faced moon on the troubled billows of the ocean are not so fleeting and inconstant as the fortune and condition of human life. we one day bask in the sunshine of prosperity, and the next, too often, roll in anguish on the thorny bed of adversity and affliction. to be neither too fond of prosperity, nor too much afraid of adversity, is one of the most useful lessons we have to learn and practise in the extensive commerce of this world. happy is the youth whose parents are guided by these principles, who govern their children as good princes should their subjects, neither to load them with the chains of tyranny, nor suffer them to run into the excesses of dissipation and licentiousness. the following history of ernestus and fragilis is founded upon these general principles. ernestus and fragilis were both the children of fortune, but rocked in two different cradles. philosophy and prudence were the nurses of the first, and vanity and folly lulled the second to his repose. ernestus was early used to experience the various changes of the air, and accustomed to a regular diet; while fragilis was treated in a very different manner, being kept in a room where, it was supposed, no rude wind could intrude itself; and hurtful delicacies were given him, under the idle notion, that strength is to be acquired in proportion to the dainties and excesses of our meals. hence it is no wonder if, after a few years had strengthened their limbs and mental faculties, that there appeared an indisputable difference between the two youths. ernestus was all life and gaiety, and soon showed a propensity to be at the head of all kinds of mischief. though this disposition often got him into disgrace with his parents, yet he always showed much contrition and sorrow when he really found he had injured any one, and seldom slept after the commission of a boyish crime till he had made ample amends to the party injured. fragilis had very different passions, and very contrary notions of things. being accustomed to be indulged with whatever he cried for, his ideas soon wandered from real to imaginary wants, and as these could not possibly be gratified, he naturally became peevish, fretful, and ill-natured. whenever the mind is affected, the body must partake of the shock it occasions. fragilis was weak, rickety, and feeble; and the remedies they applied to relieve him only contributed to increase the evil. as the two little heroes of my history lived in the same neighbourhood, and their parents were nearly equal in point of fortune, they consequently became intimate companions, and frequently visited each other. it was easily to be discovered which of these two children would one day figure most on the busy stage of the world. ernestus and his lady with pleasure beheld in their little son an ample share of spirit and activity, kindness and affability, resolution and integrity. the parents of fragilis, however, had not the same pleasing prospect in their favourite and darling; for he was of a dull and gloomy turn, seldom contented with any thing, perpetually wrangling with every one about him, and constantly pining after those things which he knew were not to be procured. ernestus made a rapid progress in his literary pursuits, under the tuition of his masters; for his application to his books was equal to the genius nature had bestowed on him. on the other hand, fragilis advanced very slowly in the paths of science; for his genius had been spoiled by the pernicious indulgences of his parents in his infant years, and he had been suffered to acquire a habit of indolence, which made the least labour of body or of mind tiresome and disgustful. these circumstances, however, did not seem to interrupt the rising friendship between these two youths, their connections growing stronger as they ripened in years. they were joint proprietors in their kites, their tops, their marbles, and their dumps; though ernestus was generally the manufacturer of the first and last articles. indeed, the kites made by fragilis were always too heavy, and not equally balanced on both sides; consequently they were difficult to be raised into the air, and when there, they had a wavering and unsteady motion; whereas, those made by ernestus were light and elegant, darted into the air like an eagle, and remained there as steady as a hawk resting on its wings; his dumps had the elegance of medals; and his tops and marbles were so judiciously chosen as to claim the admiration of all the neighbouring youths. the time at length arrived, when it is usual for parents to begin to think of sending their children from home, to engage in the busy commerce of the world, and to learn how to provide for themselves. the feathered inhabitants of the woods and groves give up every pleasure to that of rearing their little brood; but, as soon as they have acquired a proper degree of maturity, they then drive them from their nests, to form new connections, and to shift for themselves. man, more helpless than birds, requires the assistance of the parental hand, for some years, to rear and cherish him; nor do their cares and anxieties for him cease till life is no more. though ernestus loved his parents with all the affections of a dutiful child, yet he could not help rejoicing at the idea of embarking in the bustle of the world, and making a figure as a man. on the other hand, fragilis could not prevail on himself to quit the apron-string of his mother, and engage in the rude clamour of a commercial life, in which so much attention, thought, and industry, are required. neither could his parents part with their darling, whose constitution they had spoiled, and rendered unfit for business. ernestus, in a short time after, by his own desire, was placed as a clerk in a merchant's house in london; while fragilis continued with his parents, to squander away his time in destructive scenes of indolence and luxury. five years had glided away as it were imperceptibly, when ernestus found himself disengaged from the ties of his clerkship. his person was by this time arrived at the state of manhood, his figure was graceful and genteel, and his mind was improved from the polite companies he had engaged in at his leisure hours. as business had ever been the first object of his attention, and as he had thereby made himself of no small consequence to his late master, the latter, to connect him more closely with his interests, offered ernestus his daughter in marriage, and a considerable share in the trade of the house. such a flattering offer could not admit of a moment's hesitation, especially as a secret passion had long mutually glowed in the bosom of each party. they were married, and they were happy. soon after this period, a most dreadful inundation happened on the sea-coast, on the very spot where the houses and lands of the parents of ernestus and fragilis were situated. dreadful indeed it was, for it not only washed down their houses, but drowned some hundreds of cattle, and left that as a part of the briny ocean, which, but a few hours before, was beautiful meadows and gardens, adorned with every thing pleasing to regale the appetite, or please the eye. deplorable indeed was now the situation of those two families: their houses washed away, their cattle destroyed, and all their fruitful lands, on the produce of which their fortunes depended, were irrecoverably lost, and become of no value. surely, to support such a situation with any tolerable degree of tranquility of mind, requires more courage and philosophy than generally fall to the lot of imperfect mortals! after the first transports of terror and affright were a little abated, and calm reason and reflection succeeded the sad emotions of horror and despair, the old ernestus thus addressed the fair partner of his misfortunes:-"my dearest emelia," for that was the name of his amiable lady, "in the midst of this terrible misfortune, we have the happiness to reflect, that what has befallen us is not derived from any fault of our own, but by the pleasure of him who gave us every thing, and who has a just right to take what he pleases from us. though he has taken from us our house and lands, he has still graciously left us our beloved son, who will not fail to console us in our misery, and who will perhaps help us in our distresses. though we are deprived of our fortune, we have the pleasing consolation to reflect, that, by bringing him up in the school of prudence and industry, we have secured him from sinking under the wreck of our present calamity. nothing can more contribute to soften the calamities of good parents, than to reflect that their children are not exposed to partake of their miseries." the heart of this amiable spouse was, for some time, too full of grief for the misfortune she felt, to give any immediate reply: but, at last, recovering her usual spirits and sensibility, she withdrew her head from the bosom of her generous husband, on which it had been for some time tenderly reclined. "ah! my beloved partner of happiness and misery," said she, "why am i thus sorrowful and wretched? why do i thus fly in the face of providence, for depriving us only of the baubles of life? have i not still left an amiable and tender husband, and a dutiful and beloved son. these are treasures which i still possess--treasures infinitely beyond those i have lost--treasures that will support me in the stormy hour of adversity, and enable me to make a mockery and derision of every thing that the cruel hand of fabled fortune can inflict." she then caught her husband in her arms, and there fainted, rather through excess of joy than grief. virtuous minds, however they may be distressed for a moment, by unforeseen accidents, soon find an inexpressible consolation in the integrity of their hearts. such was the character of ernestus and his lady, that this dreadful calamity was no sooner known, than all the neighbouring gentry flocked round them, and seemed to contend with each other for the honour of assisting such distinguished characters. what is the empty parade of riches acquired by fraud, rapine, and plunder, when compared to the heartfelt satisfaction which virtue in distress must have here felt? it may reasonably be supposed, that it was not long before this dreadful calamity of these amiable parents reached the ears of young ernestus. a youth, brought up in the wilds of modern extravagance, would have exclaimed, perhaps in bitter terms, on being thus suddenly deprived of a fine patrimonial estate; he would, probably, have even arraigned the severe hand of providence, and have dared to utter impieties against his omnipotent maker! such was not the conduct of ernestus. his parents had taken care to give him, not a flighty and frothy, but a rational and manly education, the foundation of which was honour, probity, and virtue; not folly, luxury, and vanity. it is a just proverb, that the first seasoning sticks longest by the vessel, and that those who have been accustomed, in their early days, to tread the paths of prudence, will seldom, when they grow up, run into those of folly. ernestus received the news of this terrible calamity, just as he and his lady returned from a party of pleasure. it is too often found, that after pleasure comes pain, and never was it more truly verified than in this instance; with this exception, that here the one was not the consequence of the other. he tenderly embraced his lady, took leave of her for the present, and instantly set out for the fatal scene of ruin, to assist, console, and comfort, his unfortunate parents. what passed between them in the first moments of their meeting, afforded such a scene of tenderness and affection, as exceeds the possibility of description to reach: the feelings of the heart, in such a situation, exceed every thing the most lively imagination can fabricate. ernestus found his dear parents had taken shelter in the house of an old gentleman, who lived in the neighbourhood, who was immensely rich, and had neither children nor relations living. here they enjoyed all the consolation and comfort their generous hearts could wish for; nor was the young ernestus suffered to contribute his mite to their aid. "it is enough," said the old gentleman of the house, "that you have lost your patrimony; but i have riches sufficient, and have no near relation to succeed me. how can i dispose of it better than in cherishing the distressed, and in taking virtue by the hand to raise it above the wrecks of fortune?" in a little time after, this worthy old gentleman paid the debt of nature, and left the bulk of his fortune to the parents of ernestus; who, by this act of generosity, were become as opulent as ever, and consequently resumed their former figure in the world. the fortune of young ernestus was every day increasing, from his great success in commerce, till he at length found himself master of a sufficient independency, when he quitted trade; and he and his lady retired to the country, where they passed their days under the same roof with their parents, happy in themselves, and diffusing happiness to all who lived within the circle of their knowledge. we could wish here to drop the curtain, and leave the mind filled with those pleasing ideas, which the good fortune of the family of ernestus must raise in the bosoms of the generous and humane--but we must return to the unhappy family of fragilis. young fragilis, owing to the mistaken manner in which he was brought up, was feeble and enervated at that age, in which youths generally grow strong and robust. hence it happened, from the sudden inundation of the waters, that it was with great difficulty he could save his life. however, though he escaped the fury of the unrelenting waves, he caught such a cold, that a fever ensued, which, heightened by the fright he had received, proved too much for his weakly constitution to support, and put a period to his existence in a few days. trying indeed was the situation of mr. fragilis and his lady: in one day, deprived of all their wealth and possessions, and in a few days afterwards of their only son, whom they loved to excess, whom they ruined by false indulgences, and by whom they were reproached for their mistaken conduct in his dying moments. to be reproached by the only object they loved in this world, as being in some distant degree instrumental to his death, was too cutting a consideration for them to bear. they felt the wound effectually, it festered in their hearts, and they soon followed their son to his untimely tomb. reflect, ye too tender and indulgent parents, how dangerous it is to rear your children in the lap of luxury and indolence, since you thereby make them unfit members of the community, frequently a heavy load to themselves, and always a source of anxiety and fear to their mistaken parents. without health, strength, and vigour, life is but a burthen; why should then so many parents take such trouble to deprive their children of the three principal blessings of this life, which, when once lost, are never known to return? [illustration] [illustration] _juvenile tyranny conquered._ mr. wilson, his lady, and little family, left the noise and bustle of the city, to pass the more agreeable half of the year amidst the delights of rural scenes and prospects. mr. wilson, to a refined education, had added much knowledge and experience in the commerce of the polite world. his lady, though an amiable and sensible woman, had, in the education of her children, given rather too much into the fashionable errors of the metropolis. as soon as they were properly settled in their rural retirement, mr. wilson thus addressed his lady: "i flatter myself, my dear, that you will now leave me at liberty to manage our two children, in the manner that shall appear to me most proper; for i wish to eradicate those seeds of pride, obstinacy, and perversity, which the little circle of their acquaintance in london has sown in their minds, and to which the corrupted manners of the city have given deep root." mrs. wilson seemed a little angry at this introduction, and wished to know what were those defects he imagined to have discovered in the minds of her two little ones: she entreated him not to conceal them from her, as it was equally her duty to assist in every thing where the happiness of their children was concerned. "i do not wish, my dear," replied mr. wilson, "to complain of your conduct as a wife; but i think you are too fond and indulgent as a mother, you encourage them too much in the pride of dress, and fill their minds with the love of those things, which, so far from being of any use to them, may in time be productive of the worst of evils. children, who are taught to value themselves only on their dress, or in proportion as they expect a superiority of fortune to others, will with difficulty consent to be governed by the rigid rules of prudence, or submit with cheerfulness to those laborious studies, from which alone true greatness is derived." mrs. wilson laughed at the oddities of her husband, as she called them, and represented him as one born in the beginning of the last century. she considered it as an indispensable duty to educate her children in conformity to the manners of the times, and the modes of education almost universally adopted in the fashionable world. mr. wilson, however, was of a very different opinion, and considered nothing so dangerous to the morals of his children, as to suffer them to be brought up in the modern school of extravagance and pride. he owned it was a privilege which most wives claimed, of being permitted to spoil their daughters in their own way; and if, out of complaisance, he gave up that point, he hoped he should be permitted to educate his son as he thought proper. the first thing he should endeavour to break him of, he said, should be his pride, which induced him to despise every one who was not dressed like himself, or whom he otherwise thought beneath him. mr. wilson considered it as very pernicious, to suffer children to value themselves merely on account of their dress or fortune. mrs. wilson, however, could not be convinced of the truth of these arguments. "i suppose," said she, "you would have him brought up like a ploughman, or as if he were born to nothing greater than little jackson, the son of the gardener, who lives at the bottom of your grounds." the conversation now began to grow serious, and the gentleman could not help saying, he most heartily wished that his son, born as he was to an ample fortune, possessed all the good qualities which were conspicuous in that _poor_ boy. he very judiciously observed, that what the world generally calls a _polite_ education, often falls short of producing those happy effects, which nature sometimes bestows on uncultivated minds. children of humble birth are often despised, merely on account of their poverty, without considering, whether nature may not have done more for them than for the children of fortune. "happy should i think myself," said he, "if my son and heir possessed half the civility and condescension which are so much taken notice of and admired in that little fellow you seem inconsiderately to despise." mrs. wilson, though a little disconcerted by these observations, seemed by no means inclined to give up the argument. "did i not know otherwise," said the lady, "i should suspect you of being prejudiced against every thing the world considers as polite, in favour of poverty and rusticity. with all your boasted qualifications of this little jackson, what would you say, should i clearly prove to you, that he possesses secret faults, such as may be hurtful to your son; that he is guilty of robbing yours and every orchard in the neighbourhood? that he gluttonizes on the fruits of his robberies in private? and that, though he is so very complaisant with the children of fortune in the presence of their parents, he is a tyrant over the little ones in private?" mr. wilson observed, that if his lady could prove little jackson to be guilty of one half of the crimes she had laid to his charge, he would instantly order, that he should never more be suffered to enter his house. the lady then proposed to make a fair and candid experiment of this matter. "i will," said she, "order a little feast for our son and daughter, and young jackson shall be one of the party. we will find an opportunity to conceal ourselves, when we shall hear every thing that passes. from thence we shall have an opportunity of judging whether you or i be right." the proposal was so just and reasonable, that both parties instantly agreed to it. some fruit and other things were immediately ordered to be brought into the parlour, and miss and master wilson were sent for, as well as little jackson. as soon as the latter entered, the little lady and her brother complained of the strong smell of dung he brought with him; and, though he was very clean and decent, they were afraid of his coming too near them, lest he should spoil their fine clothes. though mr. wilson did not approve of this kind of behaviour in his children, he took no notice of it at present, but desired that they would be all happy together, while he and his lady took a walk into the garden. they then left the room, but softly entered it at another door, before which a screen was designedly placed, by which means they plainly overheard every thing that passed among the young folks. the first thing they heard, was their little daughter calling to her brother to come and sit by her; at the same time telling young jackson he must stand, and think himself happy that he was, at any rate, permitted to remain in their company. the little fellow seemed no ways displeased at this treatment, but told them he was not at all tired, and was very happy to be with them in any situation. master wilson and his sister then divided the fruit into three parcels, as though they intended one of them for young jackson; but, as soon as they had eat up their own shares, they began upon that intended for him, and eat it all up without giving him a taste, and even made ridicule of him all the time. they told him they would give him the parings of the apples, which were as much as such a poor creature as he could expect, and that he ought to think himself happy he could be indulged with them. young jackson told them he was not hungry, and he hoped they would not deny themselves any thing on his account. they promised him they would not, and then set up a loud laugh; all which jackson bore without uttering the least word of complaint. at last, miss wilson and her brother having eaten up all the fruit, without permitting poor jackson to taste a bit of it, they ordered him to go into the garden, and steal them some apples, promising, if he behaved well, to give him one for his obedience. "i cannot think of doing any such thing," replied jackson. "you indeed forced me twice to do so, and then went and told the gardener that i stole them for myself, though you very well know i did not eat a morsel of them." "poor thing!" said the young gentlefolks in derision, "and did they serve you so? well, we insist on your going and doing the same now, or, look you, that cane in the corner shall be laid across your shoulders. we will teach you, that it is the duty of you beggars to obey us gentlefolks." jackson still persisting in his refusal to be again guilty of any thing of the kind, master wilson took up the cane, and gave poor jackson two or three blows with it, as hard as he could, while miss wilson stood looking on, encouraging her brother, telling jackson at the same time, that if he complained of being beaten to their papa, they would again accuse him of stealing fruit, and that their words would be sooner believed than his. poor jackson replied, that he would rather be beaten all day than do so dishonest a thing as they desired him. he observed to them, that this was not the first by many times that he had been beaten by them unjustly and wantonly, and he did not suppose this would be the last. however, he said he should put up with it, without complaining to any one. mr. wilson and his lady could not patiently hear any more, but instantly came from behind the screen.--"sweet children, indeed!" said mrs. wilson. "we have, behind that screen, unseen by you, heard all you have been saying, and in what manner you have treated that poor little fellow!" little jackson was all in a tremble, and told her, that they were only at play, and meant no harm. but this would not satisfy the lady, who was now convinced of the bad conduct of her son and daughter. "you wicked children," said she to them, with a resolute look and stern voice, "you have accused this innocent child of gluttony and theft, while you only are the authors of those abominable crimes. you have not scrupled to tell me the grossest falsehood, such as god will one day call you to account for, and severely punish you in the next world, where it will not be in my power to intercede for you. this moment ask pardon of that little boy, whom you have so unjustly treated, and sincerely ask pardon of god, for the wickedness you have been guilty of!" her children were so overcome with shame, confusion, and sorrow, that they both fell down at their mother's feet, and with tears of sincerity most humbly begged pardon of god and her, promising never to be again guilty of such crimes. little jackson ran to them, and endeavoured to lift them up, while the tears stole down his cheeks in abundance. "do not be angry with them, madam," said he to the lady, "for we were only in play; and i am sorry i am come here to breed so much uneasiness. but, if you are angry with them, let me humbly beg of you to forgive them." mr. wilson also interfered, and promised, if their mamma would forgive them this time, to be bound for their better conduct in future. the lady ordered them instantly to rise, to kiss little jackson, and beg his pardon. this they did in so affecting a manner, as gave the most pleasing satisfaction to both their parents, who were now fully persuaded, that reason and tenderness will do more with children than the iron hand of correction. [illustration] [illustration] _the book of nature._ my dear papa, said young theophilus to his father, i cannot help pitying those poor little boys, whose parents are not in a condition to purchase them such a nice gilded library, as that with which you have supplied me from my good friend's at the corner of st. paul's church-yard. surely such unhappy boys must be very ignorant all their lives; for what can they learn without books? i agree with you, replied his father, that you are happy in having so large a collection of books, and i am no less happy in seeing you make so good a use of them.--there is, however, my dear child, another book, called _the book of nature_, which is constantly open to the inspection of every one, and intelligible even to those of the tenderest years. to study that book, nothing more is required, than to be attentive to the surrounding objects which nature presents to our view, to contemplate them carefully, and to explore and admire their beauties; but without attempting to search into their hidden causes, which youths must not think of, till age and experience shall enable them to dive into physical causes. i say, my dear theophilus, that even children are capable of studying this science; for you have eyes to see, and curiosity sufficient to induce you to ask questions, and it is natural for human nature to wish to acquire knowledge. this study, if it may be so called, so far from being laborious or tiresome, affords nothing but pleasure and delight. it is a pleasing recreation, and a delightful amusement. it is inconceivable how many things children would learn, were we but careful to improve all the opportunities with which they themselves supply us. a garden, the fields, a palace, are each a book open to their view, in which they must be accustomed to read, and to reflect thereon. nothing is more common among us than the use of bread and linen; and yet how few children are taught to know the preparation of either! through how many shapes and hands wheat and hemp must pass before they are made into bread and linen! a few examples will serve to show, how far we ought to study nature in every thing that presents itself to our view, and therein trace out the handy-works of the great creator. the first preacher that proclaimed the glory of the supreme god was the sky, where the sun, moon, and stars shine with such amazing splendour; and that book, written in characters of light, is sufficient to render all inexcusable who do not read and contemplate it. the divine wisdom is not less admirable in its more humble productions of what the earth brings forth, and these we can survey with more ease, since the eye is not dazzled by them. let us begin with plants. what appears to us mean and despicable, often affords wherewith to astonish the sublimest minds. not a single leaf is neglected by nature; order and symmetry are obvious in every part of it, and yet with so great a variety of pinking ornaments and beauties, that none of them are exactly like the others. what is not discoverable by the help of microscopes in the smallest seeds! and with what unaccountable virtues and efficacies has it not pleased god to endow them! nothing can more demand our admiration, than the choice which our great creator has made of the general colour that beautifies all plants. had he dyed the fields in white or scarlet, we should not have been able to bear either the brightness or the harshness of them. if he had darkened them with more dusky colours, we should have taken little delight in so sad and melancholy a prospect. a pleasant verdure keeps a medium between these two extremes, and it has such an affinity with the frame of the eye, that it is diverted, not strained by it, and sustained and nourished, rather than wasted. what we considered at first but as one colour, is found to afford an astonishing diversity of shades: it is green every where, but it is in no two instances the same. not one plant is coloured like another, and that surprising variety, which no art can imitate, is again diversified in each plant, which is, in its origin, its progress, and maturity, of a different sort of green. should my fancy waft me into some enamelled meadow, or into some garden in high cultivation, what an enamel, what variety of colours, what richness, are there conspicuous! what harmony, what sweetness in their mixture, and the shadowings that temper them! what a picture, and by what a master! but let us turn aside from this general view, to the contemplation of some particular flower, and pick up at random the first that offers to our hand, without troubling ourselves with the choice. it is just blown, and has still all its freshness and brightness. can the art of man produce any thing similar to this? no silk can be so soft, so thin, and of so fine a texture. even solomon's purple, when contrasted with the flowers of the fields, is coarse beyond comparison. from the beauties of the meadows and gardens, which we have just been surveying, let us take a view of the fruitful orchard, filled with all sorts of fruits, which succeed each other, according to the varying seasons. view one of those trees bowing its branches down to the ground, and bent under the weight of its excellent fruit, whose colour and smell declare the taste. the quantity, as well as the quality, is astonishing. methinks that tree says to me, by the glory it displays to my eyes, "learn of me what is the goodness and magnificence of that god, who has made me for you. it is neither for him, nor for myself that i am so rich: he has need of nothing, and i cannot use what he has given me. bless him, and unload me. give him thanks; and since he has made me the instrument of your delight, be you that of my gratitude." the same invitations catch me on all sides, and, as i walk on, i discover new subjects of praise and adoration. here the fruit is concealed within the shell; there the fruit is without, and the kernel within: the delicate pulp without shines in the most brilliant colours. this fruit sprung out of a blossom, as almost all do; but this other, so delicious, was not preceded by the blossom, and it shoots out of the very bark of the fig-tree. the one begins the summer, the other finishes it. if this be not soon gathered, it will fall down and wither; if you do not wait for that, it will not be properly ripened. this keeps long, that decays swiftly; the one refreshes, the other nourishes. among the fruit-trees, some bear fruit in two seasons of the year, and others unite together spring, summer, and autumn, bearing at the same time the blossom and green and ripe fruit; to convince us of the sovereign liberality of the creator, who, in diversifying the laws of nature, shows that he is the master of it, and can at all times, and with all things, do equally what he pleases. it is observable, that weak trees, or those of an indifferent pith, are those that bear the most exquisite fruits; and the higher they grow, the less rich is their productions. other trees, which bear nothing but leaves, or bitter and very small fruit, are nevertheless useful for the important purposes of building and navigation. if we had not seen trees of the height and bigness of those that are in forests, we could not believe that some drops of rain falling from heaven were capable to nourish them; for they stand in need of moisture not only in great plenty, but also such as is full of spirits and salts of all kinds, to give the root, the trunk, and branches, the strength and vigour we admire in them. it is even remarkable, that the more neglected these trees are, the handsomer they grow; and that if men applied themselves to cultivate them, as they do the small trees of their gardens, they would do them more harm than service. you, therefore, o author of all things! thus establish this indisputable proof, that it is you alone who have made them; and you teach man to know, that his cares and industry are useless to you. if indeed you require his attention to some shrubs, it is but to employ him, and warn him of his own weakness, in trusting weak things only to his care. let us now turn to the scaly inhabitants of the water, and what a number and variety of fishes are there formed! at the first sight of these creatures they appear only to have a head and tail, having neither feet nor arms. even their head has no free motion; and were i to attend their figure only, i should think them deprived of every thing necessary for the preservation of their lives. but, few as their exterior organs are, they are more nimble, swift, artful, and cunning, than if they had many hands and feet; and the use they make of their tail and fins shoot them forward like arrows, and seem to make them fly. how comes it to pass, that in the midst of waters, so much impregnated with salt that i cannot bear a drop of them in my mouth, fishes live and sport, and enjoy health and strength? how, in the midst of salt do they preserve a flesh that has not the least taste of it? it is wonderful when we reflect, how the best of the scaly tribe, and those most fit for the use of man, swarm upon our shores, and offer themselves, as it were, to our service; while many others, of less value to him, keep at a greater distance, and sport in the deep waters of the ocean. some there are that keep in their hiding places unknown to men, whilst they are propagating and growing to a certain size, such as salmon, mackerel, cod, and many others. they come in shoals, at an appointed time, to invite the fishermen, and throw themselves, as it were, of their own accord, into their nets and snares. we see several sorts of these scaly animals, and those of the best kind get into the mouths of rivers, and come up to their fountain head, to communicate the benefits of the sea to those who are distant from it. the hand that directs them, with so much care and bounty for man, is at all times, and every where to be seen; but the ingratitude of man, and the capricious wanderings of his heart, often make him forgetful of the greatest bounties. from the scaly inhabitants of the water, let us turn our attention to the feathered animals of the air. in several dumb creatures we see an imitation of reason which is truly astonishing; but it no where appears in a stronger degree, than in the industry and sagacity of birds in making their nests. in the first place, what master has taught them that they had need of any? who has taken care to forewarn them to get them ready in time, and not to be prevented by necessity? who has told them how they must be contrived? what mathematician has given them such regular plans for that purpose? what architect has directed them to chuse a firm place, and to build upon a solid foundation? what tender mother has advised them to line the bottom of them with materials so soft and nice as down and cotton? and when these are wanting, who suggested to them that ingenious charity, which urges them to pluck from their breast with their bill, as much down as is requisite to prepare a convenient cradle for their young ones? in the second place, what wisdom has traced out to each kind a particular way of making their nest, where the same precautions are kept, but in a thousand different ways? who has commanded the swallow, the most industrious of all birds, to come near man, and chuse his house to build her habitation, immediately in his view, without fearing to have him for a witness, but on the contrary, seeming to invite him to survey her works? she does not imitate other birds, who build their nests with hay and small twigs: she uses cement and mortar, and makes her whole work so solid, as not to be destroyed without some labour. her bill is her only instrument; and she has no other means of carrying her water, than by wetting her breast while she expands her wings. it is with this dew she sprinkles the mortar, and with this only she dilutes and moistens her masonry, which she afterwards arranges and sets in order with her bill. in the third place, who has made these little feathered animals sensible, that they are to hatch their eggs by sitting over them? that both the father and mother must not be absent at the same time from the nest; and that if one went in quest of food, the other was to wait till its partner returned? who has taught them that knowledge of calculating time, so as to make them able to know precisely the number of days of this rigorous attendance? who has told them how to relieve the egg of the burthen of the young one, perfectly formed therein, by first breaking the shell at the critical moment, which they never fail to perform? lastly, what lecturer has read lessons to birds, to teach them to take care of their young, till they have proper strength and agility to shift for themselves? who has taught them that wonderful sagacity and patience, to keep in their mouths either food or water, without permitting them to pass into their stomachs, and there preserve them for their young ones, to whom it supplies the place of milk? who has made them capable of distinguishing between so many things, of which some are adapted to one kind, but are pernicious to another; and between those which are proper for the old ones, but would be hurtful to their young? we have daily opportunities of seeing the anxities of mothers for their children, and the tenderness of nurses for the little ones committed to their charge; but it will admit of a doubt, whether we see any thing so perfect in the nursing of the human race as we see among the feathered inhabitants of the air. it cannot be for birds alone that the omnipotent creator has united in their natures so many miracles, of which they are not sensible. it is obvious, that his design was to direct our attention to him, and to make us sensible of his providence and infinite wisdom; to fill us with confidence in his goodness. think of these things, my theophilus, and do not fail to read the book of nature, from which you will learn to perceive your own insignificancy, and the omnipotency of him who made you. [illustration] [illustration] _the unexpected reformation._ little marcus was the only child of a wealthy tradesman, who had acquired an ample fortune by the sweat of his brow, and the reputable character he had invariably supported in the course of his business. he had always been an enemy to those little arts which some people put in practice to deceive those they have dealings with, being fully persuaded in his own mind, that no fortune could be so pleasing and grateful as that acquired by integrity and honour. being much hurried in his business, both he and his amiable spouse agreed, that it would be more prudent to send young marcus into the country for his education, where he would not be likely to receive those pernicious examples he would every day see before him in the metropolis. after a very nice enquiry, they were satisfied with the account they received of an academy at the distance of about a hundred miles from london, for the good management of which they were referred to several young gentlemen, who had there received their education, and were universally admired for their learning and prudence. the master of the academy considered all his pupils as his children; he was equally attentive to instruct them in the different branches of science, and to admonish them against those errors which young people are naturally prone to run into. he endeavoured to excite their industry by proper encouragement, and, by example, to implant in their minds the seeds of honour and probity. he had also taken the most prudent precautions in the choice of those who were to assist him in so arduous an undertaking. from so promising a situation, every parent would naturally expect the most happy consequences; but their son marcus, whether from too tender a treatment at home, or not having been properly attended to, had an unhappy turn of mind, and an utter aversion to every kind of study. his thoughts were perpetually wandering after childish pastimes, so that his masters could make him comprehend nothing of the rudiments of science. the same marks of indolence appeared in the care of his person; for every part of his dress was generally in disorder; and though he was well made and handsome, yet his slovenly appearance made him disgustful to every one. let me advise my young readers to be particularly attentive, next to their studies, to the neatness of their persons; for no character is more prejudicial to a youth than that of a sloven. but do not let them mistake me, and suppose that i mean, by neatness in their dress, foppish and ridiculous apparel. it may easily be supposed, that these defects in his conduct rendered him contemptible in the eyes of those children who were at first much behind him, but soon overtook him, to his inevitable disgrace. his master was so much ashamed of him, as well on account of his ignorance as slovenliness, that whenever any visitors came to the school, poor marcus was sent out of the way, lest such a figure as he was might bring disgrace on the academy. it might reasonably be expected, that so many humiliating circumstances would have made some impression on his mind; but he continued the same course of inconsistence, indolence, and dissipation; nor did there appear the least dawn of hope, that he would ever return into the paths of industry and prudence. his master was very uneasy on his account, and knew not how to act: to keep him at his school, he considered as a robbery on his parents, and to send him home as a dunce and a blockhead would be a cutting consideration to his father and mother. he would sometimes say to his unworthy pupil, "marcus, what will your father and mother think of me, when i shall send you home to them, so little improved in learning and knowledge?" it was, however, in vain to talk to him; for he seldom made any answer, but generally burst into tears. two years had glided away in this miserable manner, without his having made the least progress in learning, and without showing the least inclination for study. one evening, however, just as he was going to bed, he received a letter sealed with black wax, which he opened with some degree of indifference, and then read as follows: "my dear marcus, "this morning has deprived me of the most affectionate husband, and you of the most tender parent. alas, he is gone, to return no more! if there be any thing that can enable me to support this dreadful calamity, it is only in what i receive from the recollection, that i have left in my son the dear image of his father. it is from you only therefore i can look for comfort; and i am willing to flatter myself, that i shall receive as much pleasure from your conduct as i do from my tender affection for you. should i find myself disappointed in my hopes, should you be only like your father in person, and not resemble him in his industry, integrity, and virtue, sorrow and despair will put a period to my miserable life. by the person who brings you this letter, i have sent you a miniature picture of your father. wear it constantly at your bosom, and frequently look at it, that it may bring to your remembrance, and induce you to imitate, all the purest virtues and uncommon endowments of the dear original. i shall leave you in your present situation one year longer, by which time i hope you will be complete in your education. in the mean time, do not let this slip from your memory, that my happiness or misery depends on your conduct, industry, and attention to your studies. that god may bless you, and give you patience cheerfully to tread the rocky paths of science, is my sincere wish." the errors of marcus were the consequence of bad habits and customs he had imbibed in his infancy, and not from any natural depravity of the heart. he had no sooner read this letter than he found every sentiment of virtue awakening in his bosom. he burst into a flood of tears, and frequently interrupted by sighs, exclaimed, "o my dear father! my dear father! have i then lost you for ever?" he earnestly gazed on the miniature picture of his parent, pressed it to his bosom, while he, in faultering accents, uttered these words:--"thou dear author of my existence, how unworthy am i to be called your son! how shamefully have i abused your tenderness, in idling that time away for which you have paid so dearly! but let me hope that reformation will not come too late." he passed that night in sorrow and contrition, he bedewed his pillow with tears, and sleep was a stranger to his troubled mind. if he happened but to slumber, he suddenly started, imagining he saw the image of his deceased father standing before him in the dreadful garb of death, and thus reproaching him: "ungenerous youth! is this the manner in which you ought to return my past cares and attention to your interest?--thou idle sloven, thou ungenerous son! awaken from your state of indolence, and properly improve the little time you have left for the pursuit of science, which you have hitherto so shamefully neglected; and do not, by an unpardonable inattention to yourself, shorten the few remaining days of your dear mother's life!" i hope my youthful readers are well convinced that there are no such things as ghosts or apparitions, and that they are nothing more than the effects of a troubled imagination. such was the ease with marcus, who fancied he saw his father on the one hand, reproaching him for what was past, and his dear mother on the other, exhorting him to better conduct in future. "what a wretch i am," said he to himself, "to act in this manner! when my time for leaving this academy shall arrive, and i must appear before my mother to give proofs of my literary knowledge, what must be the pangs of her maternal heart, when she shall find that the child, on whom she had placed all the prospects of her future felicity, is an ungrateful, ignorant, and unworthy wretch? she will call on the friendly hand of death to take her from such an insupportable scene!" poor marcus thus lay rolling on the thorny bed of trouble and anxiety, till, at last, totally overcome by grief and despair, he fell asleep. as soon as he awoke in the morning, on his bended knees he implored the assistance of the almighty in the reformation he intended to make in his conduct. he instantly hastened to his master's chamber, and there threw himself on his knees before him: "behold, sir," said he, "prostrate before you, an ungrateful wretch, who has hitherto treated, with the most shameful indifference, all the wise lessons you would have bestowed on him. yet, unworthy as i may be of your future instructions, let me implore you, for the sake of my dear mother, whose life i fear i shall shorten by my unworthy conduct, to extend your bounty to me once more, and i will endeavour to convince you, by my future conduct, how much ashamed i am of what is past." his master raised him up, took him in his arms, and tenderly embracing him, they shed tears together. "my dear marcus," said his master to him, "to be sensible of your errors is half way to reformation. you have, it is true, squandered away, in the pursuit of trifles, two years that ought to have been employed in the acquisition of useful science. you have still one year left, and, as you appear to stand self-convicted of the imprudence of your past conduct, i would not wish to drive you to despair; but to encourage you by saying, that, by proper application, great things may be done, even in the remaining year. begin this moment, lose no more time, and may god give you resolution to proceed suitably to my wishes, and your own interest." marcus seized the hand of his master, tenderly kissed it, and then retired, being totally unable to utter a single word. he instantly ran to his chamber, there eased his heart in a flood of tears, and then set about the necessary business. he applied himself so closely to his books, and made therein so rapid a progress, as astonished his master and teachers. his companions, who had hitherto treated him with the utmost contempt, began to love and revere him. marcus, thus encouraged by the different treatment he now received, pursued his studies with the utmost attention and alacrity. he was no longer despised for his wickedness and perversity, but admired and caressed for the affability and goodness of his temper. formerly no severities or entreaties could make him attend to his studies; but they were now forced to use some degree of violence to make him partake of necessary recreations. in this manner his last twelvemonth passed on, and he viewed with regret the approach of that time when he was to leave school, and engage in pursuits of a different nature. he was hereafter to study men, and endeavour to acquire a knowledge of the latent motions of the human heart, perhaps the most difficult study in the commerce of this world. the time allowed him being expired, his mother ordered him up to london. by the end of the year, the change he had made in his conduct so operated in his favour, that his departure was regretted by all his school companions; and, when he took his leave, sorrow visibly appeared in the countenance of every one. it was a pleasing reflection to his master, that a youth he had given up as lost, should on a sudden reform, and, in the circle of one year, make as great a progress in the sciences as the generality of youths do in three. the journey afforded marcus the most pleasing reflections; for he had now nothing to apprehend from the interrogatories of his mother, with respect to his education; and though he sincerely lamented the two years he had lost, yet he could not but feel the effects of the happy employment of the third. his schoolmaster had before acquainted his mother of the happy reformation in her son, and the great improvement he had made since the death of his father. these considerations, added to the natural feelings of a mother, made their meeting a scene of the most tender delights and heartfelt transports. marcus lost only a week in paying visits to his relations and friends, and then applied himself to his father's business with unremitted assiduity and the most flattering success. in a few years he took an amiable partner for life, with whom he lived happy and contented. he was blessed with dutiful children, to whom he would frequently give this lesson: "my dear children, do not forget, that time once lost is not to be recalled; and that those hours you trifle away in your early years, you will severely lament the loss of when you shall have reached the age of maturity. an old age of ignorance is despicable indeed; for he who has neglected properly to cultivate his mind in his youth, will embitter the evening of his life with self-accusations and reproaches. happy the youth who, having toiled hard during spring in the garden of science, sits down in the autumn at leisure to regale on the fruits of his labour!" [illustration] _the recompence of virtue._ the northern confines of france boast of a small spot of ground, where virtue renders law unnecessary, and procures the inhabitants a state of peace as pure and unsullied as the air they breathe. in process of time, this territory fell into the hands of a widow, who merited a much more valuable patrimony. madam clarisse, for that was the lady's name, joined benevolence of heart to a cultivated mind and an elevated genius. the place afforded neither physician nor apothecary; but madam clarisse supplied the want of them by her own knowledge of the medical qualities of different roots and plants. her conduct evidently proved how much good a generous heart is capable of doing, even where fortune has not been lavish of her smiles. this lady had a servant maid, whose name was maria, and who had seen twelve revolving suns in her service. her attachment to her mistress, her disinterested behaviour, affability, and attention, procured her the just esteem of all who lived in the neighbourhood. it was a happiness for this girl, that she had all her life been brought up on this spot of innocence, and had not been exposed to the corrupting and pestiferous air of the metropolis. madam clarisse had the highest opinion of the good qualities of maria, and had entertained a strong affection for her. maria, who in her turn tenderly loved her mistress, and was a little older than her, always wished that her good lady might be the longer survivor; but providence had ordered it otherwise. madam clarisse was attacked with a disorder, which, on its first appearance, was supposed to be of no consequence; but, by the improper treatment of her physicians, who mistook her disorder, it at last proved fatal. the visible approach of death did not disturb the peace and tranquility of the mind of this virtuous lady: her bosom was fortified with religious consolations; her heart had never been the receptacle of evil; and, while every one around her was bewailing her approaching dissolution, she alone seemed peaceful and tranquil. the salutary regimen she exactly followed, protracted her death for a little while, and her courage gave her strength. she was not confined to her bed, but walked about, and had the village girls around her, whom she instructed in the principles of religion and virtue. one delightful morning, in the blooming month of may, she rose very early, and took a walk in the fields, accompanied by maria, who never forsook her. she reached the summit of a verdant hill, from whence the eye wandered over the most delightful prospects. she sat down on the enamelled turf, and maria by her side. "what a delightful view!" said she. "see, maria, that verdant meadow, over which we have so frequently walked! it is not long since, if you remember, that we there met the good old genevive, who bent beneath the load on her back, while she carried in her hand a basket full of apples: you insisted on taking the load from her, and, in spite of all her resistance, i seized her basket of apples. do you not remember what joy and pleasure every step afforded us, how grateful the good creature seemed, and what a hearty breakfast we ate in her cottage? "look a little to the right, and there you see the willow-walk by the lake, in which, when we were young, we used so frequently to angle. how often have we there made ozier baskets, and then filled them with cowslips and violets! you recollect that cottage in front of us, the peaceful habitation of myrtilla, for whom you in two days made up the wedding clothes i gave her. to the left, see the entrance of the wood, where i used every holiday to keep my evening school in the summer, for the instruction of the peasants' children. how happily those moments glided away, while surrounded by my youthful neighbours! how many sweet and delightful tales has the lovely priscilla there told, and how many enchanting songs did the sweet miranda there warble forth, while the feathered songsters seemed to stop their own notes to listen to her divine warblings! methinks every thing around me brings back something pleasing to my reflection, and gives an inexpressible delight to my present sensations! "you are sensible, maria, that there is a school in this village kept by a poor old woman. many who attend her school can pay for instruction without any inconvenience, while there are others, who, for want of money, are obliged to keep their children at home in ignorance. had i any hopes of living a few years longer, i should be much pleased with the idea, that i should by that time have saved a hundred crowns, which would have been sufficient to provide education for the children of those who cannot afford to pay for it; but, since it is the will of god that such shall not be the case, i submit without repining." here maria turned her head aside, in order to conceal from her lady the tender tear that stole down her cheeks. madam clarisse perceiving the situation of her amiable servant, "my dear maria," said she, "why do you weep? we shall again meet each other to part no more, and for the present let my serenity console you. i have not a doubt but you will always have a sure asylum in my house long after i shall have left it. had it pleased god, i should have been happy to have it in my power to make some provision for you; but i cannot; and it is for me to submit." lifting up her hands, she exclaimed, "accept, o gracious god! my most grateful acknowledgments for having placed me in a situation far from the temptations and vanities of this world. a stranger to headstrong passions and delusive pleasures, i have passed my tranquil life on this retired spot of innocence, secure from the tumultuous pursuits of pride and vanity, and a perfect stranger to the gnawing pangs of jealousy or envy. innocence and peace, and all the tender feelings of friendship and humanity, have been my constant companions. in that critical and awful moment, when the remembrance of past actions is not to be supported by the wicked, my mind enjoys inexpressible serenity and composure." madam clarisse here stopped short, and her head sunk on the bosom of maria; who, looking on the face of her amiable mistress, found it turned pale, and her eyes closed-never more to be opened!--thus cracked the cordage of a virtuous heart;--good night, thou amiable woman; may choirs of angels sing you to your rest! maria was undoubtedly much afflicted at the death of her lady, and her sorrow on that account, added to the fatigues she had undergone, threw her into a fever, from which her recovery was for a long time doubtful. nature, however, at last conquered her disorder, when she determined to quit that place, as soon as her strength would permit her. when she found herself capable of pursuing the journey, she packed up the little matter she had, and first repaired to the church-yard where her amiable lady lay buried. having there paid the tribute of a tear upon her grave, she instantly set out for charleville, her native place, sincerely regretted by the minister and people, who knew not what was become of her. two years had elapsed, and no news was heard of maria, though every possible enquiry was made in the neighbourhood. about that time, however, the minister of the parish received a parcel containing some money, and the following letter with it: "at last, my dear reverend sir, i am enabled to send you the hundred crowns which my worthy lady, in her expiring moments, so ardently wished to be possessed of, not for her own use, but for the emolument of others. her wishes shall now be fulfilled, and the pious work she projected shall be completed. had not this been the all i am possessed of in this world, i would have brought it myself. i am too poor to support myself among you; but i am happy in my poverty, and feel no anxieties but those occasioned by the loss of my dear lady. i beseech you to put this money out to interest, and inform the mistress of the school that it is for her use. this i hope will enable her to take under her care the children of such poor people, who cannot afford to pay for their education. if i have any favour to ask of heaven, it is only this, that i may, before i am called hence, be enabled to save a little money, in order to be in a condition to pay you a visit. should i live to see this school established on the plan my deceased lady wished for, i shall then be perfectly happy, and shall quit this world without envying those who roll in the gifts of fortune, but have not a heart properly to use them.--maria." the curate, who was a man of generous feelings, read this letter with admiration, and the next day, in the church, communicated the contents of it to his congregation, who could not refrain from tears on the relation of so generous an action. according to maria's request, he placed the hundred crowns out to interest; and thus, from the produce of two year's incessant labour of this amiable woman, was a foundation laid for the education of the poor children of the parish. the generous maria, having thus disposed of every thing she was possessed of, again sat down to work; but not with so much ardour as before, as she had now only to labour for her own maintenance. about this time, however, a relation died and left her ten pounds a year, which to her was a little fortune. it soon came to the knowledge of maria, that the curate had read her letter to his congregation, which gave her no small degree of uneasiness, as she wished it to remain unknown. however, it soon became the conversation of every one, and at last reached the place where she lived. people of the first character and fortune in charleville, at which place she then lived, were anxious to be acquainted with her; and some of them even went so far as to offer her apartments in their house. but she preferred her present situation to a life of ease and indolence. the curate, having occasion soon after to visit paris, mentioned maria in all companies, and related the affecting story of her charity, which soon became the general subject of conversation in that metropolis, was publicly related in the paris gazette, and from thence copied into most of the public papers in europe. a young prince, who lived with his parents, at paris, and who was hardly nine years of age, was so affected, young as he was, with this generous action of maria, that he talked of nothing else from morning till night. "i wish i were a man," said the little prince one morning in his father's hearing. "and if you were a man," replied the peer, "what then would you do?" the young prince threw his arms round his father's neck, and having obtained a promise that he would grant him what he asked, "i would," said he, "give maria a pension." his father embraced him, applauded the generosity of his heart, and instantly settled fifty pounds a year on maria for life. we may learn from hence, that virtue often meets with its recompence in the possession of the good things of this life, besides that inexpressible delight it receives from the inward feelings of the heart. maria received this donation with all becoming gratitude; but she used it as though she were only the steward of it: she fed the hungry, she clothed the naked, and diffused through the whole village a spirit of industry, prudence, and benevolence. [illustration] [illustration] _the pleasures of contentment._ amidst all the objects of our pursuits in this world, in order to acquire happiness, contentment is the first. without this, all the parade of grandeur, the possession of the most beautiful villa, and all the studied delicacies of the table are dull and tasteless. when contentment has taken up its seat in the bosom, the straw-built hut is a palace, and the coarsest viands are preferable to the most sumptuous delicacies. the following history of an eastern vizier will contribute to support this opinion. alibeg, in his youth, had been a very great favourite of the sultan mahmud: he had been the partner of his childish sports, and, as they grew up, the companion of his more manly amusements. he entrusted him with all his secrets, and generally followed his advice in most matters of importance. mahmud, therefore, out of gratitude, advanced him to the first office of state in the empire. alibeg was a man of a noble and generous heart, and of a complexion of mind very different from those who generally flock about royalty, like drones about the hive, only to rob it of its sweets. the inferior ministers of mahmud were avaricious, cruel, and oppressive, and sacrificed the ease and happiness of the people to gratify their own pleasure, avarice, and ambition. alibeg was determined, whatever might be the consequences, to set about a reformation of many shameful abuses. an attempt of this nature naturally brought upon him the united opposition of the imans and grandees. they first endeavoured to ruin alibeg in the opinion of the sultan, by charging him with those very crimes, which he was in reality endeavouring to correct; but their endeavours were for a long time ineffectual. the sultan loved alibeg, and well knew that all the accusations against him were false and groundless. men in power, who have no other object in view but the gratification of their unbounded passions, dread nothing so much as the influence which wise and virtuous minds sometimes have over good princes. the wicked courtiers finding they could not prevail on the sultan, by fair means, to give up his favourite alibeg, called in to their aid diabolical rebellion. the deluded multitude rose against their best friend, whose only wish was to make them happy, by freeing them from the shameful tyranny in which the ministers and great men held them. what a pity it is, that the lower class of people, on whom the prosperity of almost every nation undoubtedly depends, should be so often blind to their own interest, as to be persuaded, by artful and designing men, to forge fetters for themselves! the sultan, finding he must either give up his empire or his favourite, consented to the disgrace of alibeg; but not till the leaders of the rebellion had sworn, by the holy prophet, that alibeg should be permitted to retire where he pleased, without being insulted or molested. alibeg, thus divested of power and all his property, without a friend who dared to give him the least assistance, retired to spend the remainder of his days among the rocks and deserts of the korasan. here, on the borders of a limpid and meandering stream, he erected himself a little hut; and here, remote from the converse of ambitious and deceitful man, he passed his time unnoticed by any human being. he had lived in this solitary retreat, amidst rocks and deserts for upwards of two years, when the virtuous mentor discovered his gloomy abode. this good man, who was the intimate friend of alibeg, and who had advised him to attempt the reformation of the state, was thereby instrumental in the ruin of his friend. however, as soon as alibeg was banished by the people, mentor banished himself, and retired to a little village at a great distance from the capital. mentor sighed for the absence of his friend, and, as he knew he was retired to the korasan, he determined to set out in search of him. as he was walking on, and at about a furlong distant from the abode of alibeg, they suddenly met in a winding path. they instantly knew each other, embraced, and wept. when they had wiped away their tears, and had got over the first emotions of joy which so sudden and unexpected a meeting had occasioned, mentor was astonished to see how much serenity and composure were visible on the countenance of his friend alibeg, whose bosom was the repository of peace and contentment. "blessed be the eternal," said mentor, "who gives strength to the weak, and contentment to the unfortunate! he, who had fertile plains at his command in the environs of the capital, is now contented and happy in a cottage, among barren rocks and deserts! but alibeg has brought virtue with him to these rocks, and he despises the roses that for ever bloom in the garden of hiera, the diamonds that harden in the rich mines of nishapous, and the silks that rustle in the manufactories of mezendran. but tell me, my dear friend, has it taught you to live alone? is it possible, that any one can live without the converse of a friend? such a life would be the solitude of a tomb!" while mentor was thus addressing his friend, they kept walking on; when they approached the cottage, which alibeg left that morning before the sun had given light to the eastern parts of the horizon, their ears were first assailed with the neighing of a colt that came to meet them. when the animal approached its master, its motions seemed to express its satisfaction on seeing him again: it turned about either walking or prancing before him all the way home. presently two beautiful heifers came running towards them from an adjoining meadow. they moved in a circle round them, then stopped, as it were, to offer him their milk, and holding out their necks to him to be yoked; for nature had taught these animals to be grateful to the hand that fed them. when they had proceeded a little further, two goats, attended by their kids, as soon as they caught sight of alibeg, descended from the rocks, and expressed their joy on seeing him again by skipping and sporting round him. while mentor was amusing himself with this pleasing scene, his attention was called aside to observe five or six sheep, which had just issued from a neighbouring thicket, and were bleating as they ran. they leaped with joy, and approached to lick their master's hand, who, in return, made much of them, and showed them, by the manner in which he received those marks of their gratitude, how much he was satisfied with their affection for him. this tender scene engaged much the attention of mentor, who was still more surprised when he saw a flock of doves surround alibeg, some of which hovered over his head, and others perched on his shoulders. by this time he had entered the inclosure of his cottage, when a cock perceiving him, instantly began crowing; and, to complete the concert, the hens flew from their pursuit of food, and endeavoured, in their way, to welcome his return. but all these marks of attachment were not equal to those shown by two dogs who waited, at the door of the cot, the arrival of alibeg, their generous master. neither of them would stir out to meet him, but kept to the post he seemed to have assigned them, that of taking care of his house. however, as soon as he and his friend had entered the cot, they pawed and jumped round him, played a thousand antics, crouched before him, and expressed their joy by their agility; they licked their master's feet, and, when he stretched his hand to pat and stroke them, they would hardly stay to receive the fond mark of approbation, but, rushing through the door-way, sprung forward, and made long circuits over the rocks, and scoured backwards and forwards to express their joy. when they had tired themselves, they returned and lay down at the feet of their beloved master. mentor seemed lost in astonishment, and was convinced, in his own mind, that his friend must be happier in this cot, amidst these irrational beings, if they deserved to be so called, than he could possibly be among faithless men, in the palaces of mahmud. "you here see, my good friend," said alibeg, "that i know how to make myself happy, even among the rocks and deserts of korasan. i endeavoured to teach men the love of virtue, to inspire the subjects of mahmud with the proper notions of liberty, and to shake off that tyranny they laboured under from the usurpation of the rich and powerful; but they despised my advice, and drove me from my native spot, to seek shelter here, where i have found animals of the brute creation more grateful than men. thus, you see, my solitude is not a tomb, and that i here enjoy a kind of sovereignty over those animals, which is far more grateful, and less dangerous, than the condition of mahmud, who reigns over a fickle and inconstant people, who is every hour deceived by them, and who may perhaps one day drive him from his throne." while they were thus conversing together, they heard the sound of a number of horses' feet on the solid rock. alibeg was alarmed, and could not conceive that any band of robbers could inhabit those regions; nor could he suppose that any civilized beings would come that way in the pursuit of pleasure. a few minutes, however, cleared up all his doubts, when he saw about a hundred horsemen approaching his cot. at the head of these alibeg perceived his old friend sha-abba, who had been the principal cause of changing alibeg's sentence, from that of losing his head to perpetual banishment. sha-abba leaped from his horse, and caught alibeg in his arms. mentor, who was a witness to this scene, could not conceive what all this could mean; but he soon learned, that the people were so wearied out with the oppressions of the great, which had been carried to a more enormous height than ever since the banishment of alibeg, that they unanimously rose in their defence, and destroyed all the authors of their oppression; but remained firm in their duty and attachment to the sultan mahmud. the sultan had sent these horsemen, a hundred in number, with sha-abba at their head, in quest of the virtuous alibeg, whom he was to bring back with him by force, if entreaty could not prevail, to assume his former post of vizier. when alibeg was informed of this, he wept bitterly, and exclaimed, "after having learned to know in what happiness and contentment consist, why am i thus to be snatched in a moment from them, and again compelled to hazard my peace of mind among men more savage than the rocks and deserts of korasan? how can i forsake these faithful companions of my retirement, my dogs, my doves, and my cattle? no, if i must go, they shall follow me, that i may have them ready to attend me when fortune shall again drive me to these deserts." sha-abba and mentor endeavoured to pacify his mind: the former assured him, that all his enemies had been killed by the hands of the oppressed multitude, and the general voice of both the sultan and people was for the return of alibeg. by these and such like arguments they prevailed on alibeg to return to the capital, and resume his former exalted employments. alibeg mounted his colt, and, after shedding a flood of tears, as a tributary farewell to the rocks and deserts of korasan, he proceeded on his journey; his two faithful dogs by his side, while the doves fluttered around him, and his kids, sheep, and heifers, followed in the rear. when they arrived within a few miles of the metropolis, they were met by some thousands of the citizens, who seemed at a loss how properly to express their happiness on the return of their faithful alibeg, while shame, for having treated him so unjustly, in some measure diminished their joy. mahmud waited for him at the door of his palace; he received him with open arms; and alibeg all his life afterwards was equally esteemed by the sultan and his people. happy is he who, in every various station of life, in prosperity or adversity, can maintain the same equanimity, resolution, and fortitude. [illustration] [illustration] _the happy effects of sunday schools on the morals of the rising generation._ whatever may be said of the increasing luxury and dissipation of englishmen, their hearts have not yet lost any part of their ancient reputation for the feelings of humanity, and they are still ever ready to provide clothing for the naked, medical assistance for the sick and lame, and education for the untaught children of the poor. the great number of hospitals, infirmaries, free-schools, and other charitable establishments, with which almost every part of this country abounds, afford an ample display of british benevolence. the institution of sunday schools owes its foundation to the humanity of the present times, and will be a credit to it in future ages. the following history of dorcas and amarillis may serve as one instance of the happy effects of sunday schools. in a solitary village, far remote from the metropolis, and not near to any capital city, lived the parents of dorcas and amarillis. the husband was a shepherd and his wife a shepherdess; but their earnings were so little, that even with their joint labour they could hardly procure bread for themselves and their children, and a morsel of meat once a week was the highest pitch of their luxury, though even that was of the very coarsest kind. as soon as dorcas and amarillis grew up, the former was sent into the fields to frighten birds from the grain, and the latter was kept at home to knit coarse yarn stockings for the use of the family. their whole library consisted only of a testament and a prayer-book; but these were so injured by the depredations of time, having passed from hand to hand for many years, that what was not torn away, was rendered nearly illegible. however, that was of little consequence, since neither of them could read, and consequently could have no idea of writing. the church was at some distance from them, which served as an excuse to be absent from thence. dorcas had neither hat, shirt, shoes, nor stockings; and all the apparel of poor amarillis was only a straw hat and a coarse gown and petticoat.--these considerations alone were sufficient to keep them from church, admitting they had any inclination to go there. in course, as sunday was the only day of rest they had from their labour, both boys and girls passed it in such tricks and gambols as were most suitable to their age and taste. thus they lived almost in a state of nature, without knowing any thing of the supreme being, or of any of the duties we owe to him. they had no idea of prayer, further than, "i thank god we have had a fine season this year, &c." and herein consisted all their devotion. however, amidst all this ignorance and poverty, dorcas, his sister, and family, were all strictly honest, and never, like others in their village, employed their sunday in stealing fowls, and other things from their rich neighbours, which they thought it no crime to do: the only dread they had of the commission of these robberies, was the fear of being discovered, and the punishment that would inevitably follow it. these two children, dorcas and amarillis, lived in this state of ignorance till they were ten or eleven years of age. it had been some time a custom with dorcas and his sister, with a black-lead pencil they had found by chance, to imitate, on the back of a clean white trencher, all the letters they found in the remains of their common prayer-book, though they knew not the sound, nor combination of the different letters of the alphabet, in order to form and connect words. as they were one winter's evening hovering over the fire, dorcas said to his sister, "how happy are those young people, who, having parents that can afford to pay for their education, are taught to read, write, and cast accounts! and yet how many of those children prefer the most idle pastimes to the more invaluable improvement of their minds? there must be something vastly pretty, in being able to read that testament and prayer-book." "i agree with you, my dear dorcas," said the blooming amarillis, "that there must be something uncommonly delightful, to be able to unriddle the meaning of all those words we see in that book. what a hardship it is, that we should be born to spend our days in ignorance, and know none of the pleasures which learning must undoubtedly bring with it!" the next morning, the principal person in the village, who owned a great part of it, came to their hovel, and acquainted the old folks that they might the next sunday send their children to church, where they would be instructed in the principles of the christian religion, and be likewise taught to read, without any expence to themselves. the next sunday morning, accompanied by other children in the village, they accordingly repaired to church, where they were all dressed in new apparel, prepared for them by the voluntary subscriptions of the humane and generous. though their clothes were but of coarse materials, yet dorcas and amarillis had never been so fine before; the one thought herself as elegant as cleopatra, and the other considered himself as great as cã¦sar. besides clothing, such as could read tolerably well had a bible, testament, and common prayer given them; while others who could not read, had only a spelling-book. a schoolmaster was appointed in each village to instruct the poor children in the evening; and every sunday they went regularly to church, to be examined by the parson in public. it was a pleasing change to behold: instead of noise, riot, and confusion, every sunday, from one end of the village to the other, peace, order, and decorum were every where seen. instead of having recourse to mischievous inventions to pass away the time, each was now seen quietly seated on the enamelled turf, with a book in his hand, and either reading to himself or to some others. among all these youthful students, dorcas and amarillis made the most distinguished figures, and displayed such a genius and attention as attracted the wonder and amazement of every one. in a few months they learned to read with some degree of emphasis, and could write a hand sufficient for any of the common concerns of business. such an uncommon display of genius created them many friends, and they frequently received invitations from the younger branches of the neighbouring gentry. from these visits they learned a polite and graceful behaviour, and consequently soon got rid of their awkward rusticity. as they increased in knowledge, so their minds opened and expanded; and, though their wishes were at first only to learn to read, they now sighed after the higher branches of literature. "what a pleasing thing it must be," said dorcas one day to his sister, "to read of what passed in the former ages of the world, and trace out the tempers and dispositions of the people in those days! what a narrow span of earth are we confined to, in comparison of what we are told the world is at large! i should like to read those books which give a description of the different parts of the earth and seas; what animals inhabit them, and what curiosities they contain superior to our own." "i have the same wish," replied amarillis; "but let us be thankful to that good god, and to the generosity of our opulent neighbours, by whose bounty and goodness we were rescued from a state of ignorance and gloomy despair, have been enabled to read the sacred writings, and imbibe the glorious doctrines of salvation." this conversation was overheard by a gentleman, who immediately bought them some small books of history and geography, of which they made so proper a use, that there were very few young people, within several miles of them, who were able to converse with them on geographical and historical subjects. within the course of two years, dorcas and his sister had made great improvements in the sciences, when it was thought necessary to send them into the world to provide for themselves, as their parents were now engaged in a gentleman's family, in a much better situation than that of a shepherd and shepherdess. amarillis was taken as a waiting maid, attendant and companion of a young lady of distinction and fortune; and dorcas thought himself happy in being taken as clerk in the shop of a capital tradesman. in this situation all parties at present remain, and afford an unanswerable proof of the utility of sunday schools. had it not been for that noble institution, dorcas and amarillis must have lived and died in the grossest ignorance, overwhelmed with poverty and despair; their parents must have lingered out a half-starved life in their miserable cot, without being able to bequeath any thing to their children but rags and poverty. what may be the future situation of dorcas and amarillis we cannot say; but we need not search the roll of fate to know this, that they are bound to pray, as they undoubtedly do, for the first promoters of sunday schools. let me advise my youthful readers, whatever their condition in life may be, to imitate the industry of dorcas and amarillis. let them remember that, however painful a few years of hard study may be, how pleasing will be the consequences to them all the rest of their lives, when they will be possessed of that which nothing but their final dissolution can take from them! [illustration] [illustration] _the happy villager._ mr. jackson had been an eminent tradesman in the city of london, where he by trade acquired an independent fortune, and was now retired into the country to spend the remainder of his days amidst rural retreats, to enjoy the pleasures of rambling through woods and groves, by the side of purling and meandering streams, while the harmony of the feathered songsters would charm the ear, and lull the busy mind into the most tranquil repose. the retreat mr. jackson had chosen was situated in the county of worcester, and near to the place where he drew his first breath. his house was a well-designed mean between the vast piles raised for magnificence and those smaller ones in which convenience alone is considered. the walk from the back of the house led through a wood, by the side of a delightful stream, which meandered over grass from out of a deep hollow. a gush of water, which fell into it, gurgled through a rocky cavity; and in front you looked down on a fine lawn, terminated with a noble bank of hanging woods. he would frequently ramble to a great distance from home, to survey the beauties of the surrounding country. he had already visited every neighbouring village, and therefore one day strayed farther than usual in pursuit of new objects. on a sudden he discovered a delightful valley, the appearance of which seemed to correspond with every thing descriptive of a rural scene. it was surrounded on all sides by hills, at the feet of which were thickly scattered cottages, groves, and gardens, which seemed to be the abode of rural happiness. the silence of the scene was broken only by the dashings of a torrent, which, rushing from an eminence, precipitated, bellowing, into a cavern beneath. having there vented its rage in foam, it then divided into a multitude of little rills, and forming serpentine sweeps, refreshed the meadows and surrounding gardens with its friendly streams. however pleased mr. jackson was with the natural beauties of the place, he was no less struck with the neatness and simplicity of the many cottages that presented themselves to his view, every house having a garden, an orchard, and some well-cultivated ground about it. their only fences were hedges of holly, which afforded a convincing proof of two things, the fertility of the soil, and the confidence each one had in his neighbour. mr. jackson was so wholly employed in contemplating this pleasing scene, that he paid no attention to a storm that was gathering around him, till the lightning flashed in his face, the thunder rolled over his head, and the rain began to fall in torrents. he instantly ran to the nearest farm door, and having there knocked, gained immediate admittance. it was an elderly woman that came to the door, and who, though old, was not decrepid, and appeared to have something venerable in her countenance. "come in, sir," said she, "and i will make a fire to dry you. i am glad our cottage was so near to you; but you would have met with a kind reception in any of these cottages. there is hardly a house here which is not kept by some of our children or descendants." mr. jackson had sufficient leisure, while the good woman was lighting the fire, to survey the apartment. every thing appeared uncommonly neat, and it was easy to be seen, from the nature of the furniture, that necessity had no abode under that roof. the novelty of the whole scene, and the particular words the good old woman had dropped in conversation during the lighting of the fire, gave mr. jackson a strong desire to know further particulars. while he was drying his clothes, he heard a voice in the other room, asking if the stranger was taken care of, to which the good woman replied in the affirmative. "i suppose," said mr. jackson, "that is your husband in the next room, whose voice i hear. may i go in and thank him for his hospitality and kindness!" "with all my heart, sir," replied the woman, "you will please to step in, and i believe you will not be dissatisfied with your reception." mr. jackson did so; and there found an old man reclining on a bed, of which the clothes and furniture were very neat and clean. he had on a cap, and his snow-white locks hung over his venerable shoulders. his countenance indicated the goodness and serenity of his heart, and even time had here been more sparing of his devastations than is generally the case. the appearance of this happy villager had a very great effect upon mr. jackson, who could not look on him without being, in some measure, prejudiced in his favour. "what is the matter with you?" said he to the old cottager, "i suppose you are ill, and obliged to keep your bed?" "god be praised," replied the old man, "that is not the case; though it cannot be expected, that a person turned of fourscore years of age should be free from all kinds of complaints. it is not a long time since i have given up daily labour, which my children obliged me to do; for they said i had worked long enough for them, and that it was now time they should work for me in their turns." mr. jackson highly applauded the conduct of his children; and observed to the old man, that he must have purchased his present repose at the expence of a great deal of labour; but he wished to know, after having passed his life in such active scenes, how he could amuse himself at present. "my whole life," replied the old man, "has been a constant succession of labour. there are few men who have carried in more hay, or tied more sheaves together than i have; but my labour procured me health, contentment, and happiness. as to time, it never sits heavy on my hands; and, when my body is at rest, my mind is at work. how can any person be at a loss for thoughts who has ten children, and fifty children's children to think for? they every day give me an account of their affairs and labour, and it is i who put every thing in order. there is always one constantly upon my hands that must be married, and matches of that kind are not to be settled in a moment. if those i have provided for in this way are now in a thriving state, it is to me they owe their welfare. i have at this time three marriages in hand, and i hope they will soon be settled to the mutual satisfaction of all parties." mr. jackson observed, that he must be very happy in so numerous a family, and asked him how many he had at home with him. "i have at present only two," replied the old man, "who are my grand-daughters, for i cannot lodge an army here. it is my lands, and not my house, that i wish to enlarge. thank god, i have been able to give each of my children a tolerable portion; not in gold, but acres, and that without impoverishing myself. for a mere trifle, i bought a large quantity of land, which none of my neighbours thought worth meddling with: but i set about improving it, and gave it to my daughters as so many marriage portions, which are now, in their improved state, of great value. "whenever any of my children were ill, i had skill enough to cure them by the use of those few plants i am acquainted with, and of their behaviour to me i never had any reason to complain. i always took care to set them a good example; for though in my youth i was as wild as any other, and there could not be a dance in this or any neighbouring parish but i was sure to be there, yet, as soon as i was married, i left off those pranks. my wife was fortunately handsome, good, and sprightly, and that kept me in awe. "i took my boys into the fields with me as soon as they could walk, and i presently made them useful in one way or other. i put my youngest son on the plough, and was pleased to see the others frolic round him; and, on my return home in the evening, my little girls would divert me with singing, while they were spinning at their wheel. "i used to go among my children and grandchildren, to see if every thing went on properly; but now, since old age has prevented me, they come and see me. the sermon is no sooner over on a sunday, than my daughters and grand-daughters bring their little ones; and it would please you, sir, to behold me in the midst of twenty women dressed as for a marriage, and as pretty as angels. there is a family resemblance in their children, and that charms me." mr. jackson observed, that the other six days of the week must be very tiresome to him, since he could not have the company of his family to amuse him. to this the old man replied, "if i be denied this pleasure, yet i have others to supply its place. i know every inch of ground in this parish, and am as well acquainted with all who live in it. my neighbours, therefore, frequently come to ask my opinion on matters of husbandry, in which they are engaged. i give them my advice with pleasure; and if they be poor people, i provide them with the seed they want, and they repay it me the ensuing harvest. thus am i serviceable to others, without injuring myself or my family. "in my endeavours to do good to my neighbours, i am assisted by our vicar, who is a very good man, and of whom i have, in some degree, made a bishop, by the weddings, christenings, and tithes with which i have enriched him. i have even given him some instructions concerning his business in the pulpit; for the country people, in general, like example better than precept. the general rule i taught him to lay down to his congregation was no more than this: _no rest, good neighbours, to your land; but peace among yourselves._" mr. jackson could not help applauding such principles, and told the good old villager, that he apprehended he was of more service to the vicar than he was to the lawyer, if any such professional man lived near them. the good old man replied, "we have indeed one lawyer among us, but i have pretty well spoiled his trade. had i taken only sixpence every time i have been consulted, in order to settle disputes, i should at this time have been a very rich man. in all places, there frequently will happen disputes of one kind or other, and principally when the ground of any deceased person is to be parceled out among his successors. "on these occasions, they generally come to me for my advice; and if there be children to be married, i soon settle the affair. if there be any ground in dispute, and the parties cannot agree about it, they take me in their little cart, and, being on the spot, i have the ground surveyed; i then weigh the good and bad qualities of it in my mind, and endeavour, if i can, to satisfy the different parties. "when i find the parties are not inclined to agree, the next day i get them all together here, and i always keep a barrel of good ale on the run, such as will soften the most obdurate and flinty heart. i give them a glass or two of it, and in the mean time i tell them, that a lawsuit would cost ten times more than the ground is worth; that if they proceed in it, they will lose a great deal of time as well as money, and ever after be enemies to each other. these arguments and a few glasses of ale, never fail to make up the matter, and bring about a perfect reconciliation. it is true, i lose my ale by such a practice; but then i am amply repaid by the reflection of having done good." here the cottager called to his wife, and told her to bring a jug of their ale. mr. jackson drank some of it, and confessed that it was admirably calculated to make peace among his neighbours in the village, especially when administered by so able a hand, who knew how to extract friendship from the very means that often produce strife and disaffection. by this time the storm was entirely abated, nature had put off her gloomy aspect, and the returning sun began to enliven every thing. mr. jackson took a friendly leave, and promised to see them again in a few days. on his return home, "who would not," said he to himself, "prefer the healthful age of this good cottager, happy in his own esteem and the love of others, to the vanity of those great men, who make no other use of their abundance, than to set examples of luxury and dissipation, who make light of public scorn and hatred, and whom the very grave will not protect from infamy and execration!" [illustration] [illustration] _the indolent beauty._ we too often see beauty contaminated by vanity, and a fine genius by indolence. bella was the only daughter of a tender and affectionate mother, whose virtue and discretion were a source of happiness to her family, and a credit to her sex. bella, on her arrival at six years of age, afforded every symptom of a good heart, complaisance, affability, and a tolerable share of understanding. this was the glaring part of the picture; for the shade afforded a strange attachment to indolence, and a disgust to every species of refined education. though her mother possessed all the talents necessary for an excellent instructress, yet she had never before any opportunity of reducing them to practice, and an only child was not perhaps the most proper object for her experience in the science of juvenile education. it should ever be one important point with parents, never to give up a command they have once laid on their children, but punctually to insist on its performance. the observation of this rule would frequently save a great deal of uneasiness to both parents and children. her mother could not think of applying even the most tender correction, and the use of threatenings only added to her own uneasiness. she hoped, as her daughter grew older, she would become more sensible of her indolence and inattention to business, and, as she ripened in years, would proportionably increase in sense and judgment; but the older the twig grew the less pliant it became, and what might have been accomplished in its younger state, was by time become almost impracticable. bella, however, when she arrived at eight years of age, showed very little inclination to make any alteration in her conduct; the little creature's idleness rather increased than diminished, and she began to be troublesome even to herself. her mother now conceived the plan of putting down on paper, every evening, the value of such things as she had lost or spoiled in the course of the day, in consequence of her carelessness and invincible indolence. her mother had flattered herself that bella, when she came to know the value of money, would act in a more prudent manner; but she read over the account with the utmost indifference, and considered the sums there mentioned as too insignificant for her notice and attention. a pretended head-ache was almost her constant excuse to avoid her attendance on her masters; and thus, though naturally sincere, she began to accustom herself to deviate from the truth. bella had reached her thirteenth year, without the least appearance of alteration in her conduct, and the lost and broken account, kept by her mother, was increased to a large sum. one irregularity, if not timely checked, brings on others; and thus bella to indolence soon added inconsistence. she presently grew tired of every thing; her harpsichord, which was one week her favourite instrument, was the next discarded with disgust, to make room for the guitar; and this, in a short time after, for something else. she had masters to teach her geography, french, and italian; writing, accounts, dancing, drawing, and music. these added to her mother's long catalogue of expences, contributed but little to her improvement. it is natural to suppose, that when the follies of youth are not early corrected, they will, like pernicious weeds, thrive so fast as to check the growth of every thing that is valuable in the same soil. hence it happened, that after three years more had elapsed, the lovely bella, instead of growing wiser by age, as her mother had vainly expected, became more indolent, whimsical, and capricious. all the money paid to her masters was thrown away, she learned nothing, and was in fact little more than an _ignorant beauty_: a character i most sincerely wish is not applicable to any of my fair readers, since nothing can be more dangerous, pernicious, and derogatory to female reputation. at this period of her folly, a young gentleman of fortune and character, whom i shall call by the name of honestus, among other company, visited the parents of bella. he was struck with her charms, and immediately conceived some thought of paying his addresses to that capricious beauty; but, when he learned what was her character, he declined all thoughts of forming such a connection. the tender mother did not fail to represent this disappointment to her daughter, who was then of an age capable to receive remonstrances of that nature. to her natural disposition for indolence she had now added pride, the forerunner of all evils to a female mind. instead of properly feeling the reproaches of a tender mother, she haughtily replied, "it is true, i have lost a great deal of time, and have not improved myself much from the lessons of my masters; but what need have i of learning, when my parents are so rich, and you yourself acknowledge i am so pretty?" as soon as bella had attained her eighteenth year, she began to think herself happy in being no longer incommoded with the visits of her teachers; so, when a young lady arrives at that age, she is supposed to be accomplished in point of education, and has nothing else to do but to apply herself to the application of those rules she learned from her masters. alas! this was not the case of the lovely bella: she had learned nothing but those principles which never fail to be pernicious to the youthful mind. that morning, which on its opening appeared to her so delightful and brilliant, was soon enveloped in dark and heavy clouds. her mother entered her chamber with a countenance that convinced bella something was amiss. after an awful pause, she thus addressed her daughter: "my dear child, you are this day eighteen years of age; but i fear your education is far short of what it now ought to be. i fear the indulgences i have granted you have made you too vain of yourself, and have fatally induced you to believe, that you had less occasion for an education than others. will beauty make you lovely? separated from the graces of the mind, it will not so much as please. are you not always uneasy in yourself, and constantly dissatisfied with others? besides, rich as you imagine your father to be, are you sure that, while we are now speaking, he is not a ruined and undone man?" the last words awakened in the bosom of bella all the alarms which an unexpected disappointment to ambition is capable of feeling. her mother got up, and left the room without saying any thing more. the apprehensions of bella on this occasion were but too well founded; for, in a few days after this conversation, her father stopped payment. this imprudent gentleman, not contented with a fortune of six thousand pounds a year, engaged in a very hazardous undertaking, which, happening to fail, brought on a bankruptcy. he had all his life been the child of fortune, and therefore made but a poor pupil in the school of adversity: he took this matter so to heart, that in spite of all the care and attention of his wife and daughter, he soon bid adieu to the cares of this world, and fled for repose to the next. he died perfectly sensible, exhorting those around him, never to give way to the emotions of avarice and rapacity, since these first brought him to ruin, and then to his grave. his wife undoubtedly felt this shock severely, though she supported it with christian fortitude. she had a small jointure, which the creditors could not, nor did they wish to touch. having performed the duties of the last funeral rites to her husband, she and her daughter retired to a private situation in the west of england, where every necessary article of life was cheaper than in the metropolis. bella, however, behaved with all the propriety that could be expected from a repenting daughter, and made every effort she was capable of to console her unhappy mother. she would frequently reproach herself with her past negligence, and reckon up the vast sums of money that had been squandered away upon her to so little purpose. bella had valued herself much on the fortune she supposed herself born to; but it pleased providence to deprive her of it. she had, however, her beauty still left to boast of; but even of this she was soon to be deprived. be cautious, my youthful readers, how you place too great a confidence in the possession of wealth and beauty, since they are fleeting as the wind, and as unsteady as the vessel on the troubled billows of the ocean. fortify your minds with religion and virtue, and a proper knowledge of the useful sciences; the storms and hurricanes of fortune may then attack you, but you will always safely withstand their rage, and deride their fury. one evening, while she was bewailing her past neglect, and vowing a reform for the future, she was seized with a head-ache, and being otherwise very ill, she went to bed. the next morning a violent fever seized her, and a physician being sent for, her disorder was declared to be that which is frequently so fatal to female beauty. it was one of the most unpromising kind; the doctors could say but little, and the mother was driven to despair. day after day, and night after night, her mother never left her bed-side, but was constantly with her, in a state of uncertainty, worse than that of death itself. the afflicted bella became delirious, the disorder made a rapid progress, and her eyes were soon excluded from the light. though this circumstance is not uncommon in this fatal disorder, and therefore did not at first create any alarm in her mother, yet at last it increased to such a dangerous height, that the physicians were no longer able to dissemble matters, and candidly confessed their apprehensions, that her daughter would be blind all her life. judge, if you can, what must be the feelings of a tender mother on so trying a calamity! however, youth got the better of her disorder, very contrary to the expectation of her mother, the physicians, and every one around her; she also recovered her sight, but there were left terrible marks on her face of the devastation it had there made. as soon as she was able to walk about the room, she looked in the glass, and then exclaimed: "ah! what is become of that lovely face, of which the proud bella so lately boasted? has cruel fortune robbed her of all she boasted, of all she valued herself for but a month ago, her fortune and her beauty? i am justly punished, and i will patiently submit." bella, thus instructed by misfortune, soon conquered her indolence, and all her former imperfections; a sudden revolution took place, and her very nature seemed to be reformed. her mother's conversation now became delightful to her, and she began to sit down to study with unwearied attention. reading, music, and drawing were her daily amusements; and so great were her improvements therein, that she soon made up for the time she had before thrown away in the most shameful indolence. her beauty was indeed vanished, but the improvements she made in her mind procured her more friends than she was ever before able to acquire by the charms of her person. her shape was still truly elegant, and her eyes and countenance were still expressive of the vivacity of her heart. she was no longer expensive in her dress, though she was always neat and fashionable.--though her visitors did not look upon her with that astonishment as formerly, yet they soon became captivated with the charms of her mind and the politeness of her conversation. two years had passed away in this retired situation, when honestus, who had long before ceased to think of making a partner of bella, on account of her capricious and indolent temper, being on some business in that quarter, called on the mother and daughter to see them. he was introduced into a parlour elegantly furnished, and adorned with pictures. "is not this," said the lady, "a neat apartment? every thing you here see, and these drawings in particular, are the works of my daughter." honestus was much surprised at hearing what he considered as a tale, and his looks expressed his incredulity. he turned round, and stedfastly gazing on the face of bella, was equally astonished at seeing her so changed. "is this the lovely creature," said he to himself, "with whose beauty i was once so much enraptured, and whom i forsook on account of her pride, vanity, and indolence!" out of politeness he entered into conversation with her, and found in her a most pleasing alteration: before she was a beauty without sense; now she had lost the charms of her face, but had found those of the mind, which are infinitely the most to be valued. honestus passed day after day in the company of bella, whose conversation was so pleasing and attracting, that he began to feel himself uneasy when she was out of his sight. in order, therefore, that he might enjoy the pleasure of her company without interruption, he offered her his hand for life. "you certainly deserve her," said her mother, "since you refused her in the bloom of her beauty, when her fortune too afforded the most splendid promises, and now admire her when they are both for ever vanished." though the fortune of honestus was not very splendid, yet it was sufficient, with the assistance of his trade, to keep up a genteel appearance, and to provide decently for a family, should such be the consequence of their marriage. they soon quitted this rural retreat and returned to london, where they now live in the enjoyment of all those pleasures which conjugal love, friendship, and virtue are capable of producing. let my youthful readers reflect on what they have here read, and they will then become sensible how vain and momentary, how fickle and inconstant are the possession of riches and beauty. they are like habitations built on the sands of the ocean, which are perpetually liable to be swept away by the violence of winds and floods. i mean not, that fortune and beauty are to be spised, i mean only that they should be used properly, and that the possessor of them should not vainly imagine, that they will supply the place of education, industry, benevolence, charity, and virtue. [illustration] [illustration] _an oriental tale._ time, the devourer of all things, has permitted me to be the spectator of a long series of events. the colour of my locks is now changed to that of the swans, which sport in the gardens of the mighty kings of the earth. age and experience have taught me to believe, that the sovereign disposer of our destinies has given to man a heart susceptible of virtue, and a soul capable of tasting the pleasures which arise from doing good. a noble and disinterested action must somewhere meet with its reward. listen, o sons of adam! listen to my faithful tale. in one of those delightful valleys which cut the chain of the mountains in arabia, for a long time lived a rich pastor. he was happy because he was contented, and his happiness consisted in doing good. one day, as he was walking on the enamelled borders of a purling stream, under the shade of a grove of palm-trees, which extended their verdant branches even to the heads of the lofty cedars with which the mountain was crowned, he heard a voice that frequently echoed into the valley the most piercing cries, and sometimes low murmuring plaints, which were lost in the noise of the torrent. the venerable pastor hastened to the place from whence the voice proceeded, when he saw a young man prostrate on the sand, at the foot of a rock. his garment was torn, and his hair, in wild confusion, covered his face, on which were easily to be traced the flowers of beauty, faded by grief: tears trickled down his cheeks, and his head was sunk on his bosom: he appeared like the rose which the rude blast of a storm had leveled to the earth. the pastor was touched at the sight: he approached the youth, and said to him, "o child of grief! hasten to my arms. let me press to my bosom the offspring of despair!" the youth lifted up his head in mournful silence; in astonishment he fixed his eyes on the pastor; for he supposed no human being was capable of feeling for his sufferings. the sight of so venerable a figure inspired him with confidence, and he perceived in his eyes the tear of pity and the fire of generosity. if to a generous soul it is pleasure to complain, and unfold the latent secrets of the heart, that pleasure surely must be heightened when we complain to those who will not shut their ears to the voice of truth, but will weigh every thing in the scale of reason, even though those truths may be disagreeable, and such as they wish to have no existence. the youth rose up, covered with dust, and, as he flew to the arms of the pastor, uttered cries which the neighbouring mountains trebly echoed. "o my father!" said he: "o my father!" when he had a little recovered himself, after the tender embraces and the wise counsels of the old man who asked him many questions. "it is," continued the unfortunate youth, "behind those lofty cedars, which you behold on those high mountains, it is there dwells shel-adar, the father of fatima. the abode of my father is not far distant from thence. fatima is the most beautiful damsel of all those in the mountains. i offered my service to shel-adar, to conduct one particular part of his flock, and he granted me my request. the father of fatima is rich; mine is poor. i fell in love with fatima, and she fell in love with me. her father perceived it, and i was ordered to retire from the quarter in which lived every thing that was dear to my heart. "i besought shel-adar, in the most suppliant terms, to permit me to attend his far-distant flocks, where i could have no opportunity to speak to the object of my soul. my entreaties were in vain, and i was ordered instantly to retire. my mother is no more; but i have an aged father, and two brothers so young, that they can yet hardly reach the most humble of the palm-tree branches. they have long depended on me for support; but that support is now at an end. let me die, hoary-headed sire, and put an end to my woes!" the pastor went instantly in search of shel-adar, and having found him, thus addressed him. "a dove from aleppo took refuge at damos, and lived with a dove of that country. the master feared that the dove from aleppo would one day entice away his companion, and therefore caused them to be separated. they would eat no grain but that which they received when together; they languished; they died. o shel-adar! separate not those who cannot live unless they live together!" shel-adar listened with attention to the words of the pastor; and, when he found that the flock and the horses he had brought with him were now given to the bewailing youth, he took fatima by the hand, and led her to the arms of her lover. they then retired to the neighbouring grove, where the nymphs and swains from the mountains assembled around them, crowned them with garlands, and in circles tripped over the enamelled grass to the sweet notes of the lute. the day had passed too swiftly, when the twinkling stars appearing in the heavens, gave the signal for retiring each to their habitation. the reverend pastor then withdrew, but not till he had uttered these words:-"listen, ye tender branches, to your parent stock; bend to the lessons of instruction, and imbibe the maxims of age and experience. as the pismire creeps not to its labour till fed by its elder, as the young eagle soars not to the sun but under the shadow of its mother's wings, so neither doth the child of mortality spring forth to action, unless the parent hand point out its destined labour. dangerous are the desires of pleasure, and mean the pursuits of the sons of the earth. they stretch out their sinews like the patient mule; they persevere, with the swiftness of the camel in the desert, in their pursuit of trifles. as the leopard springs on his prey, so does man rejoice over his riches, and, like the lion's cub, basks in the sunshine of slothfulness. on the stream of life float the bodies of the careless and intemperate, as the carcasses of the dead on the waves of the tigris. wish not to enjoy life longer than you wish to do good." the worthy pastor then retired, and the moon darted forth her glimmering lights to illumine the way to his habitation. the amiable young shepherd and shepherdess, being now left by themselves, "my adorable fatima," said the youth, "let us not retire to repose till we have offered up our most grateful thanks to him, whose throne is as far above that of earthly princes, as all the waters of the mighty ocean exceed one single drop falling from the clouds. to him we owe all the gratification of our wishes, and to him alone we must hereafter look up as our friend, guardian, and protector. may it be recorded in after times, that among these mountains once lived the happy fatima and dorillis, whose affections for each other, whose universal benevolence to all within the narrow sphere of their knowledge, and whose virtues and piety have left an example worthy the imitation of all who wish and know how to be happy." [illustration] [illustration] _generosity rewarded._ of all the graces that contribute to adorn the human mind, there are perhaps none, more estimable than generosity and gratitude. to define the exact boundary between generosity and profusion, is not perhaps easy, since every one will explain it by the ideas they have of their own motives for action; yet how far soever avarice may have deprived some men of every spark of generosity, yet those very men fail not to expect it from others, and are sure to complain bitterly of those who do not display it in all their actions. nothing can equal the pleasure arising from the glow of a generous heart, which is prompted to a noble action solely from the love of virtue, and who wishes not to make of it a worldly parade. fame is often purchased by generous donations, which would never have been given, had not popular idolatry been the motive; while others, like the generous man in the following tale, consult only the approbation of their own honest feelings. one of the califs of egypt, being in the field of battle, was unexpectedly surrounded by a great number of rebels, who were preparing to give that fatal blow, which would at once have finished his life and put an end to his mortal career. fortunately for him an arab happened to be near the spot with other soldiers of his party, who, seeing the situation of the calif, rushed upon the rebels, and soon put them to flight. the name of this arab was nadir, who had for some months lived a wandering life in the most retired and unfrequented places, in order to escape the vengeance of the calif, against whom he had joined the people in a late insurrection. this generous conduct of nadir was so much admired by all the arabians, that the sires still tell it their children among their evening tales. this adventure had the happy effect of perfectly reconciling nadir to the calif, who, charmed with the generosity of a man who had saved his life, at the very instant he might have destroyed it, promised to place in him an implicit confidence. "but," said the calif, "let me hear how you have passed your time, during your banishment." "i have been a wandering fugitive," replied nadir, "ever since your family were elevated to the throne of this empire; conscious that the sword of vengeance was at all times hanging over my head, it became natural for me to seek security in retirement. i found refuge for some time in the house of a friend at basra; but fearing that my stay in that city might be dangerous, i one night quitted it under the favour of a disguise, and pursued my journey towards the desert. "i had escaped the vigilance of the guards, and thought myself out of all danger, when a man of a suspicious countenance seized my camel's bridle, and expressed his suspicions that i was the man the calif was in search of, and for the apprehension of whom a very considerable reward had been promised. "i answered, that i was not the man he was in quest of."--"is not your name nadir?" said he. "this disconcerted me, and i could no longer deny myself to be the object of his pursuit. i put my hand into my bosom, and pulling out a jewel of some value, 'receive,' said i, 'this trifling token of my gratitude, for the important service i hope you will now do me, in keeping silence, and favouring my escape. should fortune again smile on me, i will share my prosperity with you.' "he took my diamond, and examined it very attentively, 'before i put this diamond into my turban, as your gift,' said he, 'i would wish you to answer me one question honestly. i have heard you have been a liberal man, and always ready to assist the poor and necessitous; but did you ever give away one half of your wealth at one time?' i answered in the negative; and he renewed his questions till he came down to one-tenth; when i replied, that i believed i had, at one time, given away more than one-tenth of my whole fortune. "'if that be the case,' said the man, as soon as i had made him that reply, 'that you may know there is at least one person in the realm more bountiful than yourself, i, who am nothing better than a private soldier, and receive only two dollars per month, return you your jewel, which must certainly be worth three thousand times that money.' having thus said, he threw me back my diamond, and pursued his journey. "astonished at so benevolent and generous an action, i rode after him, and begged him to return. 'generous friend,' said i to him, 'i would rather be discovered, and forfeit my head, than be thus vanquished in point of generosity. magnanimous stranger, either i must follow you all day or you must accept this tribute of my gratitude.' "he then, turning about, said to me, 'were i to take from you your diamond, i should consider myself as a robber on the highway, since you receive no value from it. let me advise you to lose no time, but set off for your proposed retreat.' he continued inflexible, and we parted." the calif knew not which to admire most, the generosity of nadir or the soldier. a proclamation was published, ordering the generous soldier to appear at the calif's court, that he might receive the reward of his virtues; but all was to no effect, as no one came forward to claim the glorious reward. however, about a twelvemonth afterwards, when nadir attended the calif at a general review, a private soldier received a blow from his officer, for holding down his head as the calif passed. this drew the attention of nadir, who, after looking stedfastly in the face of the offending soldier, leaped from his horse, and caught him in his arms. to conclude, this proved to be the man who had so generously treated nadir, and had endeavoured to shun the reward of his virtues. the calif paid him singular honours; and at last raised him to the highest rank in his army. [illustration] [illustration] _an evening vision._ one beautiful, serene, summer evening, after rambling in a grove of laurels, till the lamp of night arose to illumine the objects around me, i seated myself on the bank of a meandering river; a weeping willow spread over me its branches, which bent so humbly as to sweep the stream. an antique tower, partly in ruins, mantled in ivy, and surrounded with yew and cypress, was the only building to be seen. i had been reading a melancholy tale, which in strong colours impressed itself on my memory, and led me to reflect on the strange pleasure we sometimes feel in perusing the most tragical adventures. what, said i to myself, can occasion it? can the human heart feel any delight in the misfortunes of others?--forbid it heaven! my eyes were fixed on the surface of the water; the soft beams of luna sported on the curling waves, and all nature seemed hushed to repose; when a gentle slumber stole upon my senses, and methought a being of angelic form seated herself before me. a mantle of the palest sapphire hung over her shoulders to the ground, her flaxen hair fell in waving curls on her lovely neck, and a white veil, almost transparent, shaded her face. as she lifted it up, she sighed, and continued for some moments silent. never did i behold a countenance so delicate; and, notwithstanding a smile sported on her coral lips, her lovely blue eyes were surcharged with tears, and resembled violets dropping with dew. below her veil she wore a wreath of amarinths and jessamines. "wonder not," said she, in accents soft as the breath of zephyrs, "that a state of woe can please. i am called _sensibility_, and have been from my infancy your constant companion. my sire was _humanity_, and my mother _sympathy_, the daughter of _tenderness_. i was born in a cavern, overshadowed with myrtles and orange-trees, at the foot of parnassus, and consigned to the care of melpomene, who fed me with honey from hybla, and lulled me to rest with plaintive songs and melancholy music. "down on one side of the cavern ran a stream from helicon, and in the trees around it the doves and nightingales built their nests. i make it my sole care to augment the felicity of some favoured mortals, who nevertheless repine at my influence, and would gladly be under the dominion of _apathy_. "alas, how inconsiderate! if the rose has thorns, has it not also a balsamic tincture and ambrosial sweetness? if the woodbine droops, laden with the dew drops of the morning, when the sun has exhaled them, will it not be refreshed, and yield richer fragrance? so, if a heart be touched with a story of distress, it will at the same time experience a delightful sensation; and, if the tears sometimes flow, say, can you call it weakness? can you wish to be divested of this genuine test of _tenderness_, and desire the departure of _sensibility_? were i totally to forsake you, man would become a senseless being, and presently imbibe the ferocity of the savage inhabitants of the forest." "ah no, fair nymph!" said i, "still deign to be my attendant; teach me to sigh with the unhappy, and with the happy to rejoice. i am now sensible, that the pleasures which arise from legends of sorrow, owe their origin to this certain knowledge, that our hearts are not callous to the finer feelings, but that we have some generous joys, and some generous cares beyond ourselves." scarcely had i pronounced these words, when the loud tolling of the village bell broke the fetters in which morpheus had bound me, and dispelled the airy illusion. [illustration] [illustration] _the anxieties of royalty._ the califs of the east having extended their dominions as far as the boundaries of europe, found their iron sceptre too heavy to be supported with any degree of pleasure or satisfaction. they therefore appointed what are called emirs; but each of these governors soon assumed the power of sultans. not contented with the appearance of being equal to their master, they frequently arraigned his conduct, and sometimes dethroned him. mahmoud was the most celebrated of all the califs who had kept their court at ispahan. he was a patron of the arts and sciences, and naturally a friend to the blessings of peace. some of his predecessors, however, had been of different sentiments, and thought their happiness and glory consisted only in warlike exploits, in the desolation of villages, towns, and cities, without regarding the horrible carnage of human beings, and the miseries to which thousands of families were thereby reduced. his subjects being thus accustomed to warlike achievements, being naturally savage, and thinking nothing but a victorious hero fit to govern them, they rebelled against their peaceful monarch. though mahmoud wisely preferred peace to war, yet he was by no means destitute of true courage, and he now found himself under the disagreeable necessity of taking the field, as the only means of quelling his rebellious subjects. his arms were every where victorious, and he returned in triumph to ispahan, where he hoped to enjoy the fruits of his victories in peace and tranquility. in this, however, he was much disappointed; for his rebellious subjects attributed his successes more to good fortune than wisdom or courage, and they seemed only to be in want of a chief to lead them to open rebellion. selim put himself at the head of these rebels; but, in the course of two years' contest, selim lost his head, and mahmoud returned in triumph to his capital. the man, who has long been accustomed to scenes of blood and slaughter, will naturally become hardened and of savage feelings, totally the reverse of those of pity, tenderness, and humanity. almost every day convinced mahmoud, that he must part with either his tender feelings or his throne. he wished to pursue the middle path between clemency and tyranny; but the rebellious spirit of his subjects by degrees so hardened his heart, that he at last became the complete tyrant. the people soon began to groan under the weight of his iron hand, and offered up their prayers to the great prophet for a peaceful king, such as mahmoud had been. alas! all their prayers were in vain, for mahmoud was young and vigorous, and beloved by his army. he was once loved; he was now dreaded in every part of the persian empire. the calif, after having some time exercised his tyranny with a high hand, suddenly withdrew from public affairs, and shut himself up in the recesses of his palace, visible to no one but the emir he had always trusted. in this unprecedented solitude he passed his time during the whole course of a moon, and then suddenly appeared again on his throne. a visible alteration had taken place in his countenance, and, instead of the ferocity of a tyrant, clemency and mercy seemed seated on his brow. he was no longer the savage calif, but the father of his country. such an unexpected change undoubtedly became the universal topic of conversation, and various reasons were assigned for his sudden transformation, but none of their conjectures came near the truth. an accident, however, brought every thing to light. among the wise men of ispahan was alicaun, who was one day conversing with an iman, and several dervises, concerning the change of the calif's conduct. one of the dervises laid claim to the honour of this change, having obtained it of mahomet by fasting and prayer. another said, that this great work had been accomplished by a beauty in the seraglio; but an iman, or priest, was bold enough to contradict them both, and boasted, that it was by his remonstrances that the calif's heart was softened. alicaun being then called upon to give his opinion, replied, "the lion, weary of the chase, lies down to repose a little: but let the traveller be upon his guard; perhaps he is only sleeping to recover his lost strength, that, when he wakes, he may rush forth with additional fury." one of the treacherous dervises reported this conversation to the calif, and, in consequence thereof, alicaun was ordered to appear before him. alicaun accordingly made his appearance, when the calif, having taken his seat at the tribunal, thus addressed him: "i have been informed of the particulars of your late conversation; your having compared me to the noble lion, can have nothing in it that ought reasonably to offend me; but tell me sincerely, in which of these lights you considered the lion; as the generous monarch of the forest, or as the savage tyrant?" alicaun bowed down his head to the earth, and replied, "my sovereign, you have ordered me to speak sincerely: i will obey your orders, regardless of the consequences that may follow. when i lately took the liberty to compare you to the lion, i must own i had in my view the ferocity of that animal. i am sensible i deserve to die:--your decree will determine, whether you are the monarch of the forest, or the savage tyrant. should you be graciously pleased to spare me, it will turn to your own advantage; because if you condemn me to die, my accusers will think i spoke truth; but pardon me, and they will be confounded." "i forgive you, alicaun," said the calif; "and i will tell you, and all present, my motive for doing so. you are not a stranger to the influence my favourite emir, abdalla, has over me. like many other monarchs, i became jealous of my favourite, on the unbounded acclamations he received on his return home from a war of no great consequence. i therefore resolved on putting him to death, but was at a loss in what manner i should accomplish that purpose. "to attempt it by open violence would endanger my throne; i therefore resolved to do it by stratagem. at the bottom of my palace gardens, you all know, is a tremendous precipice, whose base is washed by the waters of the tigris. hither i resolved to take him, under the idea of consulting him on some important matters of state, and, when i found him off his guard, as he could not suspect my intentions, to shove him headlong over the precipice into the river. "thought i in myself, this is the last sun abdalla shall ever behold; for, by this time, we had reached the fatal spot; when, on a sudden, by chance, let me say rather, by the will of heaven, the ground trembled beneath my feet, and i perceived part of the rock on which i stood was parting from the main body. at this critical moment, abdalla seized me by the arm, and forcibly pulled me to him, otherwise i should certainly have fallen down the horrible precipice into the foaming billows beneath, and thus have met with that fate i designed for another. "shame and gratitude for some moments struck me dumb and motionless: with shame, that a sovereign prince should stoop to such mean treachery; and with gratitude, that i should owe my life to that man, who saved mine at the very moment i was plotting his destruction! "i instantly retired to the most secret chamber in my palace, and opened my soul in prayer and thanksgiving to the eternal. in this dejected situation, i suffered several days and nights to pass away, bitterly reflecting on my folly, and reproaching myself for sinking so much beneath the real dignity of royalty. what, said i, is the life of a sovereign more than that of his meanest subject, since the one is no more secure from the arrows of death than the other! "in a little time, by reasoning in this manner, i found all my tyranny and self-consequence humbled, and i wished in future to be considered only as a man. as the nights were long and tedious to me, in order to divert my mind from painful and disagreeable reflections, i resolved to take my rambles in disguise through the different parts of ispahan. "among these rambles, chance carried me one night into a house of public entertainment. here, while drinking the liquor i had ordered, i listened to the conversation of several parties round me. "one of these parties consisted of a grave old man, surrounded by several youths, who seemed to pay the greatest veneration and attention to the words of the aged sire. i drew nearer to them, and was surprised to find them talking of the late transaction between me and abdallah. the substance of their debates will never be erased from my memory. "'there was a time,' said the old man, 'when all persia would have extolled to the skies the generous action of abdalla; but i fear, there is not at present a single voice that will thank him for saving the life of the calif.' "one of the youths, who i found was the old man's son, said he perfectly agreed in what he had mentioned, but advised him at the same time to be cautious in his observations; 'for,' said he, 'what is more quick than the ears of a tyrant, or more baneful than the tongue of a courtier!' "'i fear not,' said the venerable old man, 'the ears of a tyrant, nor the tongue of a courtier. the most they can do is to shorten a life that has already almost finished its career. a man on the verge of fourscore has little to fear from the terrors of this life. my father, who has been dead half that time, left behind him in his cellar nine bottles of wine of a most delicious flavour. believe me, this is the only liquor i ever dared to drink in opposition to the laws of mahomet; and not even this, but on very particular occasions; nor have i yet consumed the whole. "i drank the first two bottles, continued the old man, on the birth of your eldest brother: two other bottles were dispatched, when the father of the present calif delivered persia from the invasion of a tyrant: and two others when the present tyrant mounted the throne. believe me, i shall be happy to live to treat you with the other three bottles, when mahmoud shall be called into the next world, to give an account of his conduct in this. yet i would much rather wish to drink them with you, should he reform, cease to be a tyrant, and again become that good prince he one day was." "the company could not help smiling at such a declaration; but i was far from wishing to partake of their mirth. had the old man, but a few days before, uttered such words as these, his head would undoubtedly have been the price of his temerity; but what would then have excited my revenge, now filled my mind with the deepest reflections. i stole away for fear of being discovered, and hastened home to my palace, there to ruminate by myself on this adventure. it is evident, said i to myself, that i must have been the worst of tyrants, since this good old man, who drank but two bottles at the birth of his eldest son, wishes to drink three on the news of my decease. he hopes for such an event to crown all his wishes, and to complete his victory. "in this manner my thoughts were agitated, and it was not till some time afterwards i recollected he said, that he should finish his bottle with still greater pleasure, should he hear of my reformation. all my former notions of tyranny and power appeared to vanish before me, and my heart seemed to receive impressions of a different nature. to accomplish this work was my motive for being so long hidden from public view, and from thence has arisen that change in my conduct with which i see all my good subjects so much astonished and delighted. i will endeavour to change no more, but to live in the affections of my people. i leave you now to judge whether the good old man may not venture to drink his remaining three bottles." "those three bottles are already drank," exclaimed a youth, while he was endeavouring to penetrate through the crowd of courtiers to the throne. as soon as he got to the calif, he threw himself at his feet, and again exclaimed, "commander of the faithful under mahomet, they are already drank!" mahmoud then ordered him to rise, and asked him who he was that had thus spoken. the youth replied, "most gracious sovereign, i am one of five children, of whom the old man you have just mentioned is the father. i was one of the party in that conversation, which has made such a noble and generous impression on your royal heart. as we were yesterday surrounding him, he thus addressed us: 'i feel nature is nearly exhausted in me; but i shall now die with pleasure, since i have lived to see such an unexpected reformation in mahmoud. let us drink the three remaining bottles and be merry.'" the calif then ordered him to fetch his father, that he might have the sire and son always near him. the youth then retired, and mahmoud dismissed the assembly for the present. thus you see, my youthful readers, how easily you are to be led astray by your passions, when you suffer them to prevail over reason. learn early to give law to your passions, or your passions will in time give law to you, and govern you with a tyrannical power. [illustration] [illustration] _the generous punishment._ kalan was one of the principal favourites of mahmoud, of whom we have said so much in the preceding article. he had chosen him from among the number of his courtiers, to bestow on him those favours of which royalty was possessed, and which he merited. he was more beholden to nature than to art for his education, which would have been sufficient to make him happy, had it been his lot to live remote from the snares and artifices of a court. an open and disinterested heart, instead of procuring him love and esteem, often carried him to the brink of ruin; for those with whom he mingled, were artful and treacherous hypocrites, a set of vermin that infest every court. though he wished to hate no man, yet he could not love those who were every day privately seeking his destruction. these ungenerous attempts were so often repeated, that kalan, fearing he should acquire a habit of despising human beings, resolved to retire from the noise and bustle of a court. he was strengthened in this resolution by a review of his affairs, which were so much deranged by his unbounded charity and benevolence, that he found it impossible any longer to support such expences. kalan, before he retired to enjoy a peaceful and tranquil life, left the following lines engraven on his door: "the man who no ingratitude has found, has never trod on courtiers' slipp'ry ground." the calif, having one day heard these lines repeated, desired to know who was the author of them. at this time kalan was supposed to be dead, and therefore the courtiers had nothing to fear, and no reason to conceal the name of the author. those people who had formerly returned all his favours with ingratitude, now launched into high encomiums on his merit. in all this there is nothing astonishing. with respect to the arts and sciences, we see how different is the treatment the professors of them receive during their lives, and after they are no more. while living, he could perhaps hardly support his miserable existence; when dead, sumptuous and costly monuments are erected to his memory. kalan, having accidentally heard how much mahmoud was pleased with the inscription on his door, quitted his retreat, and again appeared at ispahan, to the astonishment of his friends, and the invidious regret of the courtiers. the calif received him kindly, and made him ample amends for all the neglect of his friends. kalan was put into an office which enabled him to gratify all his beneficent wishes. as the nettle and the rose thrive together on the same soil, so was the bosom of kalan not without a weed. his too strong attachment to women sometimes led him astray, and made him unmindful of his duty. the calif was not ignorant of this fault in kalan, for the courtiers that surrounded him took care that this error should not remain concealed. mahmoud, though he pitied his weakness, did not esteem him the less on that account. "true it is," said the calif, "that an unbounded passion for women is much to be censured; but this folly will in time forsake him; while ambition, cruelty, and avarice, had any such vices got possession of him, would grow stronger as he advanced in age." the calif's courtiers extolled the sublimity of this observation; but no sooner had he turned his back on them, than they ridiculed such a paltry idea. how much are courtiers to be pitied, who take so much pains to render themselves contemptible! some little time afterwards, the calif gave kalan a commission to the furthest part of persia, and fixed even the day and hour when he should expect him back. kalan immediately set out on his journey, discharged his duty with the strictest punctuality, and returned a day before the time allowed. he received the applause due to his diligence, and was told, that every hour he gained on the stipulated time was of the utmost service to his country. kalan was the more pleased with these marks of the calif's approbation, as he received it in the presence of many courtiers, who all showed him the highest marks of applause, while in their hearts they hated and detested him, and envied the honours paid him by the calif. the next day, however, one of these courtiers, deputed by the rest, approached mahmoud, and, after bowing to the earth, thus addressed him:--"most noble and glorious sovereign of the faithful, though i know not the nature of kalan's late commission, yet i judge it was of the highest importance. pardon then my zeal if, notwithstanding the transcendent light in which i behold him, i am under the disagreeable necessity of informing your highness, that he presumed to pass five days of that time so precious to the state, in the enjoyment of the pleasures of love." the calif, astonished at this declaration, told the malevolent informer, that he hoped he could prove what he had asserted. "dread sovereign," answered he, "his own slave will prove to you, that, at gauri, nearly a hundred miles from this capital, he loitered in the lap of pleasure. the daughter of a caravanserist had influence over him sufficient to induce him to neglect, for five days, the confidence you had reposed in him, and the most important concerns of the state. if time should prove that i have accused him falsely, let me be the victim of your resentment." mahmoud thanked him for his vigilant information, which he presumed could arise from no other motive than his great attachment to his glory; and he assured him, that he would nicely search into the truth of what he had informed him. "neither will i be forgetful," said the calif, "of the greatness of your soul, which has induced you to sacrifice to my interest the man, you say, you so much admire and revere." the courtier then bowed his head to the earth, and retired, not much pleased, however, with the last words of the calif, who, he had from thence reason to believe, was not greatly satisfied with the accusation, and who might let fall that vengeance on this head, which he was endeavouring to prepare for another. mahmoud presently afterwards sent for kalan; which being known to the courtiers, they secretly triumphed in the idea, that the hour was hastily approaching, in which they hoped to find their revenge and hatred amply gratified. as soon as kalan appeared before the calif, "i will not," said the latter, "ask you any artful questions, such as may lead you inadvertently to criminate yourself; and, in the course of this business i will be your judge and counsellor, and will afford you every opportunity of clearing yourself of the charge laid against you. you cannot forget how precious i told you was the time i allowed you for the completion of your embassy; yet it has been reported to me, that you stopped five days on the road, to enjoy yourself in the lap of pleasure, without blushing at the praises you received for that one day, which i supposed your zeal and attachment to my interest had procured me. say, are these things true?" "my dread sovereign," replied kalan, "had i a soul mean enough of having recourse to a falsehood to cover a crime, i should perhaps answer in the negative; but, sorry i am to say, that the charge is true. i really did saunter away in idleness five whole days at gauri. i was intoxicated; yes, commander of the faithful, i was intoxicated with a passion that destroyed all my other faculties. i know i have merited death; but it is not the fear of death that terrifies me, but the hateful recollection of having displeased my friend and sovereign. having completed the business of my embassy, and being arrived, on my return, at gauri, wanting horses, and my slave too being harassed with the journey, i resolved to stop one night, which was the first i had indulged myself in from the time of my leaving the palace. "having taken a little refreshment, and being seated near a window, i suddenly heard a voice in the adjoining chamber strike forth in such melodious notes, that nothing could equal it. i listened with eager attention, and could plainly distinguish they were the lamentations of love. i was in great doubt to determine which were the more excellent, the music or the words. as soon as she had finished, i enquired who she was, and found it was the daughter of my host; that her voice was not her only merit, since the words were of her own composition, and besides, she was said to be as lovely as venus, and as chaste as diana. "no wonder if this description excited my desire to see her; and i begged the caravanserist would gratify my wish. he for some time objected; but i persisted in my request, and at last, his great respect for the ambassador of mahmoud made him yield to my entreaties. the moment she appeared i was enamoured with her beauty; but, when i heard her play upon her harp, o powerful love! my embassy, my duty as a subject, and the punishment to which my delay might expose me, every thing of this sort was totally forgotten. "all my thoughts were absorbed at this time in one wish only, that of being beloved by zada. i offered my hand in marriage, but during two days she made many trifling excuses. on the third day she confessed, that if ever she could love any man, it probably would be me. the fourth day she received my addresses, and on the fifth gave me every thing to hope for. on the arrival of the evening of this day, she happened to mention your name, when, recollecting myself, i became fully sensible of my guilt. she perceived my confusion, and begged to know the cause of it. as soon as i told her, she insisted on my setting out that night--that very night on which i promised myself so much felicity. "sensible i am that i merit death, for having thus shamefully neglected my duty; but one thing i have to beg, that my sufferings may not be long." all was silent for a few moments. after which said the calif--"your punishment shall be the slowest that human ingenuity can possibly invent. imprisonment shall be your fate as long as life shall be able to support it. take him hence, soldiers, and let his treatment henceforward be the severest man can endure." the soldiers conducted kalan to his place of confinement, and the courtiers followed him with their eyes, which seemed to be moistened with tears, while their hearts rejoiced in his disgrace. in about an hour or two after this event, it was reported, that the calif had dispatched a messenger; but no one could tell whither, or on what account. in the course of the five following days, the name of kalan was forgotten; but on the sixth, to the astonishment of every one, the calif ordered him again to be brought before him. as soon as kalan appeared, the calif, after asking him some taunting questions, "yes," said he, "a song on some voluptuous subject, and a harp in that fair damsel's hand you saw upon your journey, made you negligent of what you knew your duty. i am, therefore, resolved both to punish and remind you of the fault you have committed, by decreeing, that in future you shall listen to such songs as are descriptive of complaining lovers. let the egyptian take her harp and play upon it." instantly was heard a voice so sweet, that mahmoud's courtiers scarce dared to breathe, for fear of interrupting so much harmony. as soon as it began, the prisoner gave a cry, fell down, and beat the ground with his forehead. "rise, kalan," said the calif, "and hear your sentence. you that at present surround my throne," speaking to his courtiers, "who so often stand in need of indulgence, tell me, which among you, being in kalan's place, on the point of having all his wishes accomplished, and after having passed five days in the pursuit of it, would not have presumed to hazard a sixth day?" (_here a pause ensued._) "no answer?--kalan, since even envy thus keeps silence, you find favour with your king. take your zada, therefore, and be happy for the time to come; she is now yours." kalan, after having thrown himself at the feet of the calif, was no sooner risen up than he flew into the arms of his beloved zada. they retired in mutual embraces; and the courtiers with hearts full of envy and fell malignity. [illustration] [illustration] _female courage properly considered._ the rev. mr. sherlock being one day in company with a number of young ladies, the conversation happened to turn on the courage of their own sex. one observed, that miss lovelace had a resolution above being curbed by her guardians, and was determined to dress as she liked; while another gave it as her opinion, that it would be better for her to check her temper, and submit to the will of her guardians. "if ever i should be married," said one of the young ladies, "i think i shall have courage enough to make my husband do as i please."--"you may be right, miss," said another, "but i think, should i ever be married, i shall always consult my husband's opinion, and readily submit to it, whenever reason seems to require it." the young ladies kept up this kind of conversation for some time; when, at last, finding their opinions were so different, they requested the reverend divine to give them his sentiments, wherein true female courage consisted. "i have," said dr. sherlock, "been listening to your conversation, and, as you have been pleased to appeal to me, i shall speak truth, without the least reserve. i hope you will attend to what i am going to say, and treasure it up in your minds. "i consider _true_ courage as one of the noblest ornaments of the fair sex, since it must be allowed, that without a becoming resolution, many female accomplishments would be lost, and sunk in obscurity, and that even virtue itself, unassisted by true courage, would soon dwindle to a shadow. i doubt not but that each of you amiable young ladies flatter yourselves with being possessed of this noble accomplishment; but permit me to tell you, that it is not every possessor of a pretty face who knows what it is. it is not xantippe, but lucretia, whom i call the woman of true courage. "xantippe is the daughter of two noble personages, and the wife of a sensible and prudent man; the mother of a blooming offspring, and the sole mistress of a plentiful fortune, the produce of which her husband cannot receive without her order. elated with the thoughts of her high birth, and sensible of the dependence her husband has on her will, she subjects him to the most rigorous discipline, is cruelly severe to her children, and arbitrary and tyrannical over her servants.--insolent and disdainful in her behaviour to her equals, and haughty and arrogant in her demeanour to her superiors, her jealousy is equalled only by her ill-nature; the most innocent freedom of her husband to a visitor is sufficient to give rise to the former; and the most trifling repartee is sure to occasion the latter. these are her qualities, which she is so far from endeavouring to amend, that she considers them as marks of true courage; or, to speak in a more polite phrase, they make her pass for a woman of spirit! "how reverse is the conduct of lucretia!--possessed of no other fortune than what good sense and a proper education give her, she passes through life with peace and serenity of mind.--the will of her husband, the care of her children, and the due preservation of order and economy in her house, are her principal studies. easy, good-natured, and affable to her equals, and humble, submissive, and obliging to her superiors; as no height of prosperity makes her forgetful of adversity, so no storms of angry fortune are able to disturb the calm within her breast, or deprive her of that hope with which true courage will always support those who possess it. "true courage, rightly understood, and properly cultivated, will inspire the fair sex with the noblest sentiments of honour and generosity. it will elevate their minds above those mean and paltry methods, which too many of them put in practice, to captivate the hearts of the giddy and unthinking. it will raise in them a noble and emulative zeal for literary studies, which will rescue them from the odium that is too frequently, and too justly, cast on many of them, of being pretty, but silly, prattling creatures. it is true courage only that can raise in them such sentiments as shall preserve them the esteem and affection of all, when the bloom of youth shall be lost in the evening of life; when the lily and rose shall fade on their cheek, and the beautiful form of their persons can be no longer admired. "i have now, young ladies, given you my opinion of what really ought to be considered as _true courage_ in your sex, and i hope it will have some influence on your minds, as well as on your conduct in the commerce of this busy world. it is not at all surprising, that you young ladies should differ in your opinions on so delicate a question, since _true courage_ is, in these times of refinement, considered in a very different light to what it was in the remote ages of antiquity. in order to amuse you, and perhaps instruct you, i shall beg your attention to a piece of ancient history; from which you will judge what was the barbarous ideas the ladies of antiquity had of true courage. "mithridates, king of pontus, proving unsuccessful in the war in which he was engaged against lucullus, a roman general, had shut up two of his wives (for the custom of that country allowed of a plurality) and two of his sisters, whom he most loved, in that part of his kingdom which was the most remote from danger. at last, not being able to brook the apprehensions of their falling into the hands of the romans, he sent orders to bacchalides, a eunuch, to put them to death. the manner in which they received this order, strongly marks the ideas the ladies of those times and regions had of true courage. "berenice and monimes were these unfortunate princesses. the first was born in the island of chio, and the other in miletus, a city of ionia, towards the borders of cairo, on the coast of the ã�gean sea. monimes was celebrated for the invincible resistance which she made to all the offers of mithridates, who was most violently in love with her, and to which she never consented, till he had declared her queen, by calling her his wife, and sending her the royal diadem--a ceremony indispensable in the marriage of kings in that part of the world. "however, even then she consented with reluctance, and only to gratify the inclinations of her family, who were dazzled with the lustre of the crown and power of mithridates, who was at that time victorious and loaded with glory. monimes abandoned herself to a perpetual melancholy, which the abject slavery in which mithridates kept his wives, the distance she then was from greece, where she had no hopes of returning, and perhaps too, a secret passion, which she always disguised, rendered insurmountable. "when bacchalides had declared to them the fatal message, and that they were at liberty to chuse what death appeared to them the most easy, monimes tore off the royal bandage which she always wore on her head, and, fixing it round her neck, endeavoured to strangle herself; but the bandage broke, and left her in a condition truly to be pitied. 'unfortunate diadem,' said she, trampling it under her feet, 'thou hast brought me to all my miseries! thou hast been witness of my slavery and wretchedness! why wouldst thou not at last help me to put an end to them all?'--after having shown these marks of her resentment, she snatched a dagger from the hand of bacchalides, and sheathed it in her bosom. "berenice swallowed the dreadful potion with astonishing resolution, and obeyed, without murmuring, the frenzy of a barbarous lover. "the king's two sisters, statira and roxana, followed the example of berenice. roxana, after having a long time kept a profound silence, swallowed the fatal draught, and died without uttering a single word. as for statira, after having shown her grief for the king's defeat, she highly praised his conduct, and ordered bacchalides to thank him for thinking of her amidst the wreck of his affairs, and thereby securing her, by a timely death, from the shameful slavery of the romans." dr. sherlock having now finished, the young ladies all rose and thanked him for the instruction he had been pleased to give them. they assured him, that they should in future endeavour to distinguish between the _true courage_ of these modern times, and those in which lived the wives and sisters of mithridates. [illustration] [illustration] _the beautiful statue._ one of the kings of balsora proved unfortunate in the choice of his queen, whose temper was as disgustful and displeasing as her person was lovely and beautiful. discontented with every one around her, she made her own life miserable, and did all she could to interrupt the happiness of others. they had an only son, and his father began very early to turn his thoughts, in what manner he should secure the young prince, when he came of age, from forming a connection in matrimony so disagreeable as his own. "if it should please heaven," said he, "to spare my life till my son shall attain the years of discretion, i then shall be able properly to direct him in the search of a prudent wife; but, as there is no certainty in human life, and as i may be taken from him in his early days, before he can be capable of comprehending my admonitions, i will leave proper instructions with my executors, who, i hope, will fulfil my requests, when i shall be at rest in my peaceful grave." in consequence of this resolution, the king took every precaution he thought necessary in so important a business; and scarcely had he finished his regulations, when the unrelenting decree of death summoned him from this world to take up his eternal abode in the ever-blooming regions of felicity. no sooner was the king dead than his will was examined. by this it was directed, that his son achmet should be instructed in all the principles of rigid virtue, and in every scientific accomplishment necessary to form the mind of a wise and good prince. it was also directed, that at the age of eighteen years he should be put in possession of all his wealth, which was deposited in spacious vaults under the palace. the will, however, strongly directed that these vaults were not to be opened, under any pretence whatever, before the appointed time, on pain of achmet losing the whole contents of them. it may easily be supposed what were the anxieties of a youthful mind, while he waited with impatience for the arrival of that day, which was to make him master of so many hidden treasures. at length the day arrived, the vaults were opened, and the heart of achmet leaped within his bosom at the sight of such unbounded riches. amidst all this glare of profuse wealth, in one particular apartment of the vault, the eye of achmet was caught by the dazzling view of nine pedestals of massy gold, on eight of which stood as many beautiful adamantine statues. achmet could not help expressing his astonishment, where his father could collect such uncommon and valuable curiosities. the ninth pedestal, however, increased his surprise, and he could not conceive why that alone should be without a statue on it. on going nearer to it, he found it covered with a piece of satin, upon which were written these words: "my dear achmet, the acquisition of these statues has cost your father much; yet, beautiful as they are, you see there is one wanting, which is far more brilliant than either of those which now present themselves to your view. this, however, must be sought for in a remote quarter of the world, and, if you wish to be possessed of it, you must depart for cairo, in the kingdom of egypt. you will there find one alibeg, formerly one of my slaves. inform him who you are, and what is your business. he will properly direct your pursuits after this incomparable statue, the possession of which will make you one of the happiest and greatest monarchs of the east." as soon as achmet had appointed proper persons to govern his kingdom in his absence, he set out in quest of this grand object. he pursued his journey without any thing particular happening; and, on his arrival at cairo, he soon found out the house of alibeg, who was supposed to be one of the richest persons in that city. as alibeg knew the time was nearly advanced, in which he was to expect a visit from achmet, the arrival of the latter at cairo did not at all surprise him. however, he appeared ignorant of the business; enquired of him what brought him to that city, his name, and his profession. to all these questions achmet gave the most satisfactory answers; and informed him, that it was a statue he was engaged in the pursuit of. this declaration of achmet seemed at once to convince alibeg, that he was talking with the son of the late king; and he blessed the great prophet for permitting him so honourable an interview. "my dear and honoured prince," said alibeg, "your father bought me as a slave, and never made me free; consequently i am a slave still, and all my property is yours."--"from this moment," replied achmet, "you are a free man, and i for ever renounce any future claim on your person or possessions." alibeg then assured the young king, that he would do every thing in his power to procure him the ninth statue he was so ardent in the pursuit of; but advised him, after so fatiguing a journey, to take a few weeks rest. the next day, however, the king told alibeg, that he was sufficiently rested; that he came not there for pleasure, and therefore wished immediately to enter on the pursuit of his grand object. alibeg told him, that he should certainly obtain his wish; but reminded him, that he must encounter much toil and fatigue before he could accomplish that desirable end. "i fear neither toils nor fatigues," replied the young king, "i am equal to the task, and by the blessing of the great prophet i will undertake any thing, however difficult it may appear. i entreat you only to let me know what part i am to act." alibeg, after a short pause, thus addressed his youthful sovereign: "you must swear to me by the holy prophet, that, when you set out from hence, you will immediately return to your own dominions. as soon as you arrive on the borders of it, you will immediately proceed on the search of what i am going to direct you to. your search must be to find out a youthful female, whose age must not exceed sixteen years, nor be less than fifteen. she must be the offspring of virtuous parents, and who has never been the dupe to a previous passion of love. she must be as lovely as venus, as chaste as diana, and a native of your own kingdom. you must, therefore, traverse every part of your extensive dominions; and as soon as you shall be so fortunate to find one who corresponds with this description, you must bring her to me, and i will soon after put you in possession of the statue you sigh for. remember, however, that should your pursuits be attended with success, you must have the most rigorous command over your passions while you are conducting the fair one hither, and not have even the least conversation with her. if this last condition be not punctually fulfilled, you will lose all claim to what you are now in pursuit of. consider within yourself, whether the possession of the statue has so many charms in it, as to enable you to surmount all these obstacles, so difficult to one of your age." the young king, with an ardour natural to a youth of his years, was going to reply, when alibeg, stopped him, by saying, that he had not yet done, but had still something further to say on the subject. "you may idly imagine," continued alibeg, "that should you be fortunate enough to find such a maiden as i have described to you, and your youthful ideas should lead you astray, you may imagine they will not be discovered; but herein you will be mistaken, for the great prophet will reveal your deceit, and you will thereby infallibly lose all pretensions to the statue. i must tell you still further, that, in order to give a sanction to your search for so virtuous a maiden, you must cause it to be reported, that you mean to make her the lawful partner of your throne." achmet listened with attention to every word that dropt from the mouth of alibeg, and in proportion as difficulties were mentioned to him, the more did his youthful bosom burn to show how much he was above them. he eagerly took the oath prescribed to him, grew more and more impatient to become possessed of the statue, and thought every hour an age that retarded his departure in pursuit of his favourite object. the next morning, alibeg, being unwilling to abate the ardour of the young prince, presented him with a looking-glass. "i here give you," said he to achmet, "an invaluable present. in the course of your pursuit, you will meet with many beautiful damsels, fair to external appearance as aurora herself; but outward forms may deceive you, and what your eye may applaud, your heart, on a more intimate acquaintance, may despise. believe me, royal youth, the beauties of the person and those of the mind are very different. a degenerate and wicked heart may be concealed under the most lovely external appearances. whenever, therefore, you meet with a beautiful female, whose charms may dazzle your eye, tell her to breathe upon this mirror. if she be chaste, her breath will not long remain upon the glass; but, if her pretensions are not founded in truth, her breath will long remain on the mirror, as a testimony of the falsehood she has advanced." these useful lessons, which alibeg gave his royal pupil, were not the result of thoughts of his own, but were the consequence of the wise plan the late king of balsora had prescribed for his son. he well knew that little artifices of this nature seldom failed of succeeding with youthful minds naturally fond of mystery. the young prince took an affectionate leave of alibeg, promised to be punctual to all his instructions, and then, taking up his miraculous glass, took the direct road from egypt to balsora. his intention was to commence his enquiries as soon as he reached the borders of his dominions; but a thought struck him, that it would be mean in him to seek the wished-for damsel among shepherds and peasants, when his own court furnished such a display of beauties. as soon as he arrived in his own dominions, he proclaimed the resolution he had taken concerning marriage. he invited every maiden of fifteen years of age, who was born of virtuous parents, and had never experienced the passion of love, to repair to his court, out of which he proposed to chuse the fortunate partner of his crown and empire. this proclamation soon surrounded his palace with the first beauties of the kingdom; but as soon as the king presented to them the mirror, which was to be the touchstone of their prudence, they all shrunk back from the trying ordeal, conscious that they could not, with safety to their characters, run the hazard of such a trial. here it seems necessary to say a few words by way of explanation, lest the youthful part of my readers should be led into an error. the properties which alibeg ascribed to this looking-glass were merely fabulous, and calculated only to strike a terror on the minds of youthful females, who, from the apprehensions of being discovered in their attempt to deceive an eastern monarch, refused to breathe on the glass. so that the young prince could not find, in any part of his capital, a maiden of fifteen perfectly answerable to the terms proposed by alibeg. achmet, being thus disappointed in his capital, traversed every part of his dominions, and visited even the most sequestered villages; but he every where found the morals of the people so very corrupt, that no maiden could be found who would venture to look on the mirror, which they apprehended would reveal their most trifling defects. achmet, therefore, began to be disheartened, and feared he should at last be disappointed in the grand object of his pursuit, and never be able to obtain the statue he so ardently sighed for. as he was one evening reposing himself in a mean habitation, situated in a lonely and recluse village, an iman came to pay him a visit, having previously learned what was the cause of the king's journey. "i must confess," said he to the king, "that your majesty is engaged in a very difficult pursuit; and i should be led to believe, that all your researches would be in vain, did i not know of a beautiful damsel, who perfectly answers to the description of your wants. her father was formerly a vizier of balsora; but he has now left the court, and leads a private and recluse life, solely occupied in the education of his daughter. if it is your pleasure, royal sir, i will to-morrow attend you to the habitation of this lovely damsel. her father will undoubtedly be exceedingly happy to have the king of balsora for his son-in-law." achmet very prudently replied, "i cannot think of promising to marry the beauty you mention till i have seen her, and have put her to those trials which none have yet been able to withstand. i am satisfied with your account of her beauty, but i must have proof of her virtue and prudence." the king then told him of the glass he had in his possession, and which had hitherto so far terrified every damsel, that none had dared to look into it. the iman, however, still persisted in every thing he had advanced concerning this beautiful female; and, in consequence, they went the next morning to see her and her father. as soon as the old gentleman was acquainted with the real character and business of his royal visitor, he ordered his daughter elvira to attend unveiled. the king was struck with wonder and astonishment, when he beheld in this beautiful damsel such perfections as his court could not equal. after gazing on her some time with inexpressible astonishment, he pulled out his glass, and acquainted the lovely elvira with the severe trial she would be put to on looking into that mirror of truth. her conscious innocence derided all fear, she breathed on the glass without the least apprehension, when the high-polished surface rejected the breath thrown on it, and soon recovered its usual brightness. as achmet was now in possession of the person he had so long wished for, he asked her father to give him his permission to marry her; to which he readily consented, and the marriage ceremony was performed with all the decency a country village would admit of. achmet, however, could not help feeling the impressions which the charms of elvira had made on his mind; and, though he hastened the preparations for his departure, yet it was with evident marks of reluctance. the vizier, who attended him in the pursuit of this fair one, plainly perceived it, and enquired the cause of it. it seemed very singular to achmet, that the vizier should ask him such a question. "can there be any creature," said he, "more lovely than the angel i have married? can you be any ways surprised, should i be tempted to dispute the instructions of alibeg, and place her as the partner of my throne?" "be cautious what you do," said the vizier. "it will not be becoming of a prince like you, to lose the statue after you have done so much to obtain it." this rebuke roused him, and he determined not to lose it; but he desired the vizier to keep her from his sight, as he feared he had seen her too much already. as soon as every thing was ready, achmet set out for cairo, and on his arrival there was introduced to alibeg. the fair bride had performed the journey in a litter, and had not seen the prince since she was married. she enquired where she was, and whether that was her husband's palace. "it is time, madam," said alibeg, "to undeceive you. prince achmet only aimed at getting you from your father as a present to our sultan, who wishes to have in his possession such a beautiful living picture as you are." at these words elvira shed a torrent of tears, which greatly affected both achmet and alibeg. as soon as her grief would permit her to speak, "how can you," said she, "be so treacherous to a stranger! surely the great prophet will call you to an account for this act of perfidy!" however, her tears and arguments were in vain. achmet, indeed, seemed to feel for her situation, which alibeg viewed with pleasure. "you have now performed your promise," said he to achmet, "by bringing hither this beautiful virgin. the sultan will undoubtedly reward you, by putting you in possession of the statue you seek after. i will immediately send a person to balsora to fetch the pedestal; and, within the compass of nine days, you may expect to see it and the statue in one of the apartments of my palace; for surely you only are worthy of such a precious possession." elvira was immediately separated from achmet; she made the bitterest bewailings, and wished for death to hide her sorrows and disgrace. notwithstanding the fond desire of achmet to be in possession of the statue, he could not reconcile his mind to the hard fate of elvira. he reproached himself with having taken her from an indulgent father, to throw her into the arms of a tyrant. he would sometimes say with a sigh, "o beautiful damsel, cruel indeed is your condition!" at the expiration of the nine days, which had passed between hope and sorrow, achmet was conducted into an apartment of the palace, in order to be put in possession of the inestimable statue. but it is impossible to express his astonishment and surprise, when, instead of such a figure as he expected, he beheld the beautiful maiden he had seduced from her father. "achmet," said the lovely virgin, "i doubt not but your expectations are sadly disappointed, in finding me here, instead of the inestimable statue you expected, and to obtain which you have taken so much pains." as soon as achmet had recovered from his surprise, "the great prophet can bear me witness," said he, "that i was frequently tempted to break the oath i had solemnly taken to alibeg, and to sacrifice the idea of every statue in the world to you. i love my dear, beautiful elvira more than all the world besides!" "prince achmet," said alibeg, "this is the ninth statue, which you have so long been in pursuit of, and which was the intentions of your father, who had contrived this method, in order to procure you a queen with whom you might be happy. love her tenderly, be faithful to her, and in proportion as you endeavour to procure her happiness so will she yours." achmet, enraptured with the lovely countenance and virtuous dispositions of his dear elvira, that day proclaimed her queen of balsora, and thereby amply made her amends for the short disquietude he had occasioned her. we may from hence draw this conclusion, that merit is not every where to be found; but, like diamonds of the first lustre, take up much toil and time in the pursuit. what we gain too easily, we are apt to think too little of; and we are accustomed to estimate the value of every thing in proportion to the care and pains it costs us. this the wise father of achmet well knew, and therefore devised those means which were most likely to enable him to discover the woman of beauty, virtue, and prudence, without leaving him any hopes of finding it in the lap of pride, indolence, and luxury. [illustration] [illustration] _dorcas and amarillis._ dorcas was born in a village far remote from the capital, amidst rocks and precipices, in the northern parts of the island. his parents laboured hard for their daily bread, and with difficulty procured a subsistence for themselves and their little son. a fever, which they both caught, put an untimely end to their existence, and dorcas was taken care of by the parish, being then of too tender an age even to be sensible of his loss. his education was adapted to his humble situation, and extended no farther than writing and reading. as soon as he had reached the fifteenth years, the directors of the workhouse thought it time to ease the parish of their burden, and accordingly placed him as a servant to a neighbouring farmer, to watch his cattle, and attend to the duties of husbandry. amarillis was of nearly the same age, the daughter of a farmer, and employed by her father in looking after his sheep. she would frequently bring her flock into the meadows to feed and wanton on the enamelled carpet of the sweetest herbage, where she frequently met with dorcas. the youthful shepherd did her every little service in his power, and amarillis was pleased to see him so solicitous to oblige her. dorcas was never so happy as when in company with his shepherdess, and amarillis always found pleasure in the presence of dorcas. some years glided away in this pleasing intercourse between dorcas and amarillis, when what had hitherto appeared only under the name of friendship began gradually to assume a softer title, which at last ripened into love. their hearts were formed for each other, and they began to be uneasy when separated. dorcas talked of the happiness of marriage, and obtained permission from amarillis to ask her father's consent to their union. the maiden's delicacy would not suffer her to be present when dorcas paid his visit to her father on that business; and, therefore, appointed a time when she was obliged to go to a neighbouring town, for him to take the opportunity of opening the matter to her parent, desiring he would meet her on her way home at night, and acquaint her with the success of his commission. at the appointed time the shepherd waited on her father, and disclosed to him the secrets of his heart, adding, how happy he should be to have her for a wife. "i suppose so," replied the old man. "what, you are in love with my daughter! do you know what you are talking of? have you any clothes to give her? have you any house of your own? learn how to get your own living, before you think of encumbering yourself with a wife. a poor shepherd as you are, you cannot have a penny beforehand. my daughter is not rich enough to keep herself, and i am sure you cannot keep her." "if i am not rich," replied dorcas, "i am vigorous and hearty, and those who are industrious never want for work. out of the forty shillings i receive yearly for my wages, i have already saved five pounds, which will buy us goods in plenty. i will take a little farm, and i will work harder. the richest men in the village had no better beginning, and why may not i do as well as they have?" the old man, however, told him he was young enough, and must wait for better circumstances. "get rich," said the old farmer, "and amarillis shall be yours; but speak no more to me concerning her, till your money shall induce me to listen to you." it was in vain for dorcas to argue any more; and as amarillis was by this time on her return home, he went out to meet her. when they met, dorcas was quite thoughtful, and the pretty shepherdess knew from thence he had not met with success. "i can see," said amarillis, "that my father is averse to our marriage."--"what a misfortune it is," replied dorcas, "to be born poor! yet, i will not be cast down; for i may, by industry, perhaps change my situation. had your father given his consent to our marriage, i would have laboured to procure you every thing comfortable. but i know we shall still be married, if we do but wait with patience, and trust till it shall please providence to be more favourable to our wishes." as the lovers were thus talking over the disappointment to their views, the night rapidly increased upon them; they therefore hastened their pace, that they might reach the cottage in good time. as they were pursuing their way home on the road, dorcas stumbled over something, and fell down. as he felt about to discover what had occasioned his fall, he found a bag, which, on his lifting it, proved very heavy. curiosity made them both anxious to know what it could be; but, on opening it, they were presently convinced, dark as it was, that it certainly was money. "this is the gift of heaven," said dorcas, "who has made me rich to make you happy. what say you, my pretty amarillis, will you now have me? how gracious has heaven been to my wishes in sending me this wealth, such as is more than sufficient to satisfy your father, and make me happy!" these ideas gave birth to inexpressible joy in their hearts; they anxiously surveyed the bag, they looked affectionately on each other, and then resumed the path that led to their village, eager to acquaint the old man with their unexpected good fortune. they had nearly reached their habitation, when a thought struck dorcas, and made him suddenly stop short. "we imagine," said he to amarillis, "that this money will complete our happiness; but we should recollect that it is not ours. some traveller has undoubtedly lost it. our fair is but just over, and some dealer, coming from thence, may probably have dropped this bag; and while we are thus rejoicing over our good fortune on finding it, we may be assured that somebody is truly wretched on having lost it." "my dear dorcas," answered amarillis, "your thoughts are very just. the poor man is undoubtedly much distressed by his loss. we have no right to this money, and were we to keep it, we should act a very dishonest part." "we are going with it to your father's," said dorcas, "and he would undoubtedly be glad to see us so rich; but what joy or happiness can we expect in possessing the property of another, whose family is perhaps ruined by the loss of it? as our minister is a worthy man, and has always been good to me, let us leave it with him. he is the properest person to consult on this occasion, as i am sure he will advise me for the best." they accordingly went to the minister's, and found him at home. the honest dorcas delivered the bag into his possession, and told him the whole tale; how happy they were at first on finding it, and what motives, from second thoughts, had induced them to bring it to him. he confessed his love for amarillis, and acquainted him with the obstacles that poverty threw in the way of his felicity. "yet," added dorcas, "nothing shall tempt me to wander from the paths of honesty." the minister was much pleased with their mutual affection for each other, and assured them, that heaven would not fail to bless them, so long as they persevered in that line of conduct. "i will endeavour," said the minister, "to find out to whom this bag belongs, who will, no doubt, amply reward your honesty. even out of the small matters i can save, i will add something to the present he shall make you, and i will then undertake to procure for you the consent of the father of amarillis. should the money not be claimed, it will be your property; and i shall then think myself bound to return it to you." dorcas and his lovely shepherdess returned to their homes much better satisfied than they would have been, had they otherwise made use of the treasure they had found, and they were happy in the promises the good minister had made them. the money was cried all round the country, and printed bills were distributed in towns and villages even at some distance. many were base enough to put in their pretensions to it; but as they could neither describe the bag, nor what was in it, all they got by it was to establish their names as scandalous impostors. in the mean time, the minister was not unmindful of the promise he had made the young lovers. a short time afterwards he put dorcas into a little farm, provided him with money to purchase stock and farming implements, and at last procured him his beloved amarillis. the young couple having acquired every object of their humble wishes, sent up to heaven their unfeigned thanks, and called down for blessings on the head of their good minister. dorcas was industrious about the farm, and amarillis kept every thing right in the house; they were punctual in the payment of their rent, and lived within the bounds of their income. two years had now passed, and no one had yet appeared to lay claim to the lost treasure. the minister, therefore, apprehended there was no necessity to wait any longer for a claimant, but took it to the virtuous couple, and gave it to them, saying, "my dear children, take what it has pleased providence to throw in your way. this bag, which contains five hundred guineas, has not yet been claimed by its right owner, and therefore must at present be your property; but, should you ever discover the real person who lost it, you must then return it to him. at present, make such use of it as may turn it to advantage, and always be equal in value to the money, should it be justly demanded." dorcas entirely agreed with the minister, in laying out the money in such a manner that it might be ready on the shortest notice, or at least in something full the value in kind. as the landlord was proposing to sell the farm which dorcas occupied, and as he valued it at little more than five hundred guineas, he thought he could not lay out the money to greater advantage than in the purchase of this farm; for, should a claimant ever appear, he would have no reason to complain of the disposal of his money, since it would be easy to find a purchaser for it, after it had received improvements from his labour. the good pastor entirely agreed in opinion with dorcas: the purchase was made, and, as the ground was now in his own hands, he turned it to much greater advantage. he was happy with his amarillis, and two sweet children blessed their union. as he returned from his labour in the evening, his wife constantly welcomed his return, and met him on the way with her children, who fondled round him with inexpressible cheerfulness and delight. the worthy minister, some years after this happy union, paid the debt of nature, and was sincerely wept for by both dorcas and amarillis.--the death of this worthy pastor brought them to reflect on the uncertainty of human life. "my dear partner," said dorcas, "the time will come when we must be separated, and when the farm will fall to our children. you know it is not ours, nor perhaps ever properly will be. should the owner appear, he will have nothing to show for it, and we shall go to the grave without having secured his property." dorcas, therefore, drew up a short history of the whole affair in writing, got the principal inhabitants to sign it, and then put it into the hands of the succeeding minister. having thus taken all the precautions they could to secure the property to the right owner, should he ever appear, they were much more easy and contented than before. upwards of ten years had elapsed since they had been in possession of the farm; when dorcas coming home from the fields one day to dinner, saw a phaeton in the road, which he had hardly cast his eyes on, till he saw it overset. he hastened to the spot to give them his assistance, and offered them the use of his team to convey their baggage. in the mean time, he begged them to step to his house, and take such refreshment as it afforded, though they had fortunately received no hurt. "this place," said one of the gentlemen, "is always mischievous to me, and i suppose i must never expect to pass it without some accident.--about twelve years since, i somewhere hereabouts lost my bag, as i was returning from the fair, with five hundred guineas in it." "five hundred guineas, sir!" said dorcas, who was all attention. "did you make no enquiry after so great a loss?"--"i had it not in my power," replied the stranger, "as i was then going to the indies, and was on my road to portsmouth, which place i reached before i missed my bag. the ship was getting under way when i arrived there, and would have gone without me had i been an hour later. considering it was money i had lost, it appeared to me a doubtful matter whether i should hear any thing of it after making the strictest enquiry; and had i been fortunate enough to succeed, even in that case, by losing my passage, i should have sustained a much greater loss than that of my bag and its contents." after the part dorcas has acted, this conversation was undoubtedly pleasing to him, and he consequently became more earnest in wishing the travellers to partake of the fare of his table. as there was no house nearer, they accepted the offer; he walked before to show them the way, and his wife came out to meet them, to see what accident had happened; but he desired her to return, and prepare dinner. while the good woman was dressing the dinner, dorcas presented his guests with some refreshments, and endeavoured to turn the conversation on the traveller's loss. being convinced of the truth of his assertions, he ran to the minister, told him who he had with him, and begged he would come and dine with him. they all sat down to dinner, and the strangers could not help admiring the order, decency, and neatness that were every where conspicuous. they could not but notice the generosity and frankness of dorcas, and were highly delighted with his helpmate, and the manner in which she treated her children. as soon as dinner was over, dorcas showed them his house, his garden, sheepfold, flocks, and granaries. "this house and premises," said he, addressing himself to the traveller who had formerly lost his money, "is your property. i was fortunate enough to find your bag and money, with which i purchased this farm, intending to restore it to the owner, should he ever come forward, and show himself. for fear i should die before an owner was found, i left a full detail in writing with the minister, not wishing my children to enjoy what was not their own." it is impossible to express the surprise and astonishment of the stranger, who read the paper, and then returned it. he first gazed on dorcas, then on amarillis, and then on their young ones. at last, "where am i?" cried he; "and what is it i have heard? is this world capable of producing so much probity and virtue! and in what an humble station do i find it! is this the whole of your property, my friend?" "this house, my herd, and my cattle," replied dorcas, "are all i possess. even though you should keep the premises in your hand, still you will want a tenant, and i shall wish to be indulged with the preference." the stranger replied, after a moment's pause, "integrity like yours merits a more ample reward. it is upwards of twelve years since i first lost the money, and providence threw it in your way. providence has been no less kind to me, in blessing my undertakings. i had long since forgotten my loss, and even were i to add it to my fortune this day, it would not increase my happiness. since it has pleased god that you should be the fortunate finder of it, far be it from me to wish to deprive you of it. keep then what you have so well merited, and may heaven bless and prosper you with it." he then tore the paper, on which dorcas had made his acknowledgment of finding the purse, saying, "i will have a different writing drawn up, which shall contain my free gift of these premises, and shall serve to hand down to posterity the virtue and probity of this amiable pair." he fulfilled his word, by immediately sending for a lawyer, when he made over the premises to dorcas and his heirs for ever. dorcas and amarillis were then going to fall at the feet of their generous benefactor, but he would by no means permit it. "i am infinitely happy," said the generous stranger, "in having it in my power this day to confirm your felicity. may your children long after you inherit your farm, and imitate all your virtues!" remember, my youthful readers, that the pleasures and the comforts of human life are not in proportion to the extent of our possessions, but to the manner in which we enjoy them. the cottage of liberty, peace, and tranquility, is preferable to the gilded palaces of slavery, anxiety, and guilt. [illustration] [illustration] _the conversation._ it happened on one of those delightful summer afternoons, when the heat of the day was tempered with the gently-wafting zephyrs, that madam heathcote was entertaining a large company at tea in her arbour in the garden. no situation could be more delightful. the arbour looked full in front of a fine river, on which some were busily employed in fishing, or pursuing their different occupations, while others were skimming on its surface for amusement. all round the arbour the luxuriant grapes hung in clusters, and the woodbine and jessamine stole up between them. a situation like this will naturally incline the mind to be thoughtful, and the whole company, by imperceptible degrees, began to draw moral reflections. they remarked, how different were the objects of our pursuits, how unsteady and fickle are all human affairs, and what empty baubles frequently attract our most serious attention. after some time being spent in a kind of desultory conversation, the principal speakers began to arrange their ideas under distinct heads, and of this class the first who spoke was _dr. chamberlaine._ i am very well acquainted with two brothers, whom i shall conceal under the borrowed names of mercurius and honestus. mercurius was the elder son of a gentleman, who, with a moderate fortune, and by a nice management, so regulated his affairs, that he was generally thought to be exceedingly rich.--he gave a genteel education to his two sons, who finished their studies at cambridge. mercurius attached himself more to the gaiety and politeness of the college, than to the drudgery of books. he was a gay and lively companion, and a perfect master of those little arts which always recommend a young gentleman to the acquaintance of the giddy fools of fortune, who are sent to both our universities more out of complaisance to fashion, than to improve their morals, or enlarge their understandings. mercurius had drawn this conclusion, (and it must be confessed, that experience tells us it is too true a conclusion), that powerful connections are more likely to raise a man's fortune in life than all the natural and acquired abilities which human nature is capable of possessing. he, therefore, took every opportunity to ingratiate himself with the noble young students, whose follies he flattered, and the fire of whose vanities he fanned. amidst this pursuit after fortune and grandeur, his father died, and left but a small pittance for the support of him and his brother honestus.--this was soon known in the college, where fortune is considered as the first of all things.--mercurius was now forced, in order to keep up his noble connections, to stoop to many meannesses, such as the thirst of ambition only can persuade the true dignity of a man to submit to; but, when we once quit the path of virtue in pursuit of imaginary pleasure, we must give up every hope of a retreat. among the patrons of mercurius was a young nobleman of great fortune and connections, such as were more than sufficient to make a coxcomb of the happiest genius. the time arrived in which he was to quit college, and mercurius accompanied him to london as his companion and friend. he was the constant partner of his nocturnal revels, and little more, in fact, than his footman out of livery. he was the dupe to his prejudices, the constant butt of his wit, and the contempt of every independent mind. but let us leave this mistaken man to the feelings of his own mind, and his fears for his future existence, that we may return to his brother. honestus, less ambitious than his brother, had a mind above stooping too low in order to rise the higher. he applied himself closely to his studies, and employed the little his father had left him in the most frugal manner. he turned his whole attention to the study of the law, in which he became a very able proficient, and at last quitted the university with the reputation of a profound scholar, a cheerful companion, and a sincere friend. these, however, are seldom characters sufficient to raise a man in the world. he long remained unnoticed in his profession as a counsellor; but, however long the beams of the sun may be obscured, they at last pierce through the densest bodies, and shine in their native lustre. he now reaps the fruits of his honest labours, and often looks back with pity on the tottering state of his brother, and the parade of empty ambition. _madam lenox._ when we consider the short duration of human life, when extended even to its longest period, and the many perplexities, cares, and anxities, which contribute to disturb the repose of even those whom we should be led to consider as happy mortals, what is there in our sublunary pursuits that ought to make any long and lasting impression on our minds? we have seen many of the wisest people, on the loss of a darling child, or on a sudden and unexpected wreck in their affairs, retire from the world, and endeavour to seek consolation, by indulging their melancholy in some gloomy retreat. surely, however, nothing can be more inconsistent with the dignity of human nature than such a conduct. if to fly from the face of an enemy in the hour of battle, and seek a retreat in some sequestered forest, may be considered as cowardice in the soldier, is it no less so in the moral militant, who has not courage to face the storms of fortune, but precipitately flies from the field of adversity, the ground of which he ought to dispute inch by inch? it has been an old and long-received maxim, that fortune favours the daring, and shuns the coward. whatever may be the whims and caprice of dame fortune, who sometimes makes a peer of a beggar, and as often reduces the peer to a state of penury, yet experience tells us, that she is seldom able, for any considerable length of time, to withstand resolute and unremitted importunities; and, when she has hurled us to the bottom of her wheel, whatever motion that wheel afterwards makes, it must throw us upwards. as those, who have enjoyed a good state of health during the prime of their lives, feel the infirmities of age, or a sudden sickness, more keenly than those who have laboured under a weakly and sickly constitution; so those, who have basked in the perpetual sunshine of fortune, are more susceptible of the horrors of unexpected calamities, than those who have been rocked in the cradle of misfortune. to bear prosperity and adversity with equal prudence and fortitude is, perhaps, one of the greatest difficulties we have to conquer; and it is from hence we may venture to form our opinions of the generality of people. those who are insolent in prosperity will be mean in adversity; but he who meets adversity with manly courage and fortitude, will, in the hour of prosperity, be humane, gentle, and generous. to fly from misfortunes, and endeavour to console ourselves by retiring from the world, is undoubtedly increasing the evil we wish to lessen. this has often been the case of disappointed lovers, when the object of their hearts has proved inconstant or ungrateful. they have vainly imagined that there must be something very soothing to the afflicted mind, in listening to the plaintive sound of some purling and meandering stream, or in uttering their plaints to the gentle breezes and the nodding groves. but, alas! these delusive consolations only contribute to feed the disorders of the mind, and increase the evil, till melancholy takes deep root in their souls, and renders their complaints incurable. the society of the polite and refined of both sexes is the only relief, at least the principal one, for any uneasiness of the mind. here a variety of objects will insensibly draw our attention from that one which tyrannises in our bosom, and endeavours to exclude all others. in the commerce of this life there is hardly an evil which has not some good attending it; nor a blessing which does not, in some degree or other, carry with it some bitter ingredient. to be, therefore, too confident in prosperity, is a folly; and to despair in adversity, is madness. those who enjoy the good while they have it in their power, and support the evil without sinking under its weight, are surely best fitted for this uncertain and transitory state. to have too nice and delicate feelings is, perhaps, a misfortune; and the wise man has very justly said, "as we increase in knowledge, so we increase in sorrow." we are apt to form too great an opinion of ourselves, and to examine so closely into the conduct of others, that we at last begin to shun and despise all the world, in whom we can find no belief; but were we to examine our own conduct as critically, we should find, that we have as much to ask from the candour of others, as we have cause to give. self-love and pride are the sources from whence flow most of our real, as well as imaginary woes; and if we seek the retired and sequestered hut, it is not so much with a view to avoid misery itself, as to endeavour to conceal it in ourselves from the eyes of the world. _sir john chesterfield._ certain philosophers tell us, that "there is no such thing as happiness or misery in this life, and that they are terms merely confined to the ideas of different people, who differently define them." it must indeed be confessed, from constant and invariable experience, that what a man, at one time in his life, considered as a misery, he will at another consider as a happiness. cleorus was, from his childhood, bred to business, and the pursuit of riches appeared to him as the principal blessing he had in view, since, from his worldly possessions, he hoped to derive every comfort of life. he viewed, with an eye of pity and contempt, the follies and extravagancies of young fellows of his own age, and considered their nocturnal revels and excursions as so many sad scenes of misery. he continued in this opinion till he was turned of the age of forty; at which period, losing his wife, and finding his circumstances easy, he joined in the company of those we call _free_ and _easy_. new company, by degrees, made him imbibe new sentiments, and what he had formerly considered as miseries, began insensibly to assume the name of pleasure, and his former happiness was soon construed to be misery. he began to reflect on the dull path he had trodden all the prime of his life, and therefore determined to atone for it in the evening of his days, by entering on such scenes as were disgraceful even to the youthful partners of his follies. suffice it to say, that after having exchanged prudence for pleasure, he soon fell a martyr to his vices. it is a melancholy but a just observation, that the man who turns vicious in the evening of his life, is generally worse than the youthful libertine, and his conversation often more lewd and obscene. hence we may conclude with ovid, that no man can be truly said to be blessed, till death has put a seal on his virtuous actions, and rendered him incapable of committing bad ones. the destruction of happiness and misery is, perhaps, more on a level than we are in general apt to imagine. if the labouring man toils all the day, and hardly earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, yet every meal is to him a sumptuous feast, and he sleeps as soundly between coarse blankets as on a bed of down; nor does any part of his life betray a sense of that state of misery, such as it would be considered by the courtier. if the courtier basks in the sunshine of fortune; if he be loaded with honours, riches, and titles, keeps a brilliant equipage, and has numerous dependants at his command, the world in general will consider him as placed in a state of happiness; but, if we contemplate him at leisure, see the anxieties of his mind to be still more great and powerful, which interrupt his broken slumbers, and see how insipid to him are all the luxuries of his table, his perpetual succession of false pleasure, and the mean adoration he is compelled to pay to the idol of power, we shall hardly allow him the idea of happiness, but justly consider him as more miserable than the labouring peasant. the mind is undoubtedly the seat of happiness and misery, and it is within our power to determine which shall hold the empire there. to maintain a uniform conduct through all the varying stations of life--to content ourselves with what comes within our reach, without pining after what we cannot obtain, or envying others what they possess--to maintain a clear unsullied conscience--and to allow for the infirmities of others from a retrospect of our own, are perhaps some of the best rules we can lay down, in order to banish misery from this mortal frame, and to acquire such a degree of happiness, as may enable us to perform our terrestrial journey with some degree of satisfaction to ourselves and others. _lady heathcote._ though the depravity, luxury, and corruption of the times, form just subjects of complaint for the grave, the thoughtful, and the aged, yet i cannot help believing, that many of these complainants are themselves lending a helping hand to render the rising generation as effeminate and corrupt as the present. i am now appealing to parents on the education of their children, which appears to me a subject that ought to attract the serious attention of those who wish longevity, peace, and happiness to their children, and prosperity, repose, and a reformation of manners to the rising generation. "the first seasoning," says plato, "sticks longest by the vessel. thus those, who are permitted from their earliest periods to do wrong, will hardly ever be persuaded, when they arrive at maturity, to do right." it is a maxim with some people, a maxim surely founded only on pride, that their children shall not be checked in their early years, but be indulged in whatever their little hearts shall pant after; and for this reason, because they will grow wiser as they grow older. but, since the love of ease, finery, and pleasure, is natural to almost every youthful mind, how careful ought each parent to be to check those juvenile sallies, which, if encouraged, will in time be productive of the very evils they complain of in the present generation. it is not only in childhood, but also in their progress through school, and during their apprenticeship, that these indulgences are continued; and an excuse is always ready, that their children must not be more hardly treated than others. hence it follows, that you often meet the apprentice of eighteen strutting through the streets in his boots on an errand of business, or screening himself from the dew of heaven under the shade of a large silken umbrella!--it would be worse than sacrilege, in their opinions, to appear abroad with an apron before them, or in their working dress. their evenings are too often spent abroad at chair clubs, in alehouses, at the theatres, or in some gardens. "to know the world," as they call it, is more their study than the attainment of their profession, by which they are hereafter to live. but of what does this knowledge of the world consist?--to despise virtue, to laugh at morality, and to give way to the most shocking scenes of folly and dissipation. their sundays, part of which, at least, ought to be spent in acts of piety, are passed in revelling and drunkenness; and the exploits and excesses of that day furnish plenty of boastful conversation for the rest of the week. what can be expected from a youth, when he shall arrive at manhood, who has thus passed the morning of his life? and with what reason can either parents or masters complain of the depravity of the times, since they themselves take so little care of the morals of the rising generation? the youth who has been long accustomed to revel through the dangerous wilds of gaiety and pleasure, and has once given a loose to the excesses of the town, will hardly ever be prevailed on to quit them, for what he considers as the dull enjoyments of a calm, peaceable, and virtuous life. deaf to all remonstrances, he pursues his pleasures, and perishes in the midst of his delusive enjoyments. to check these evils, and thereby prevent the fatal consequences, the infant mind must be carefully watched, and the unruly passions made to give way to the reason and authority of the parent. nothing can be so pleasing and delightful, and, at the same time, more the duty of the parent, than to watch over the tender thought, and teach the young ideas to flow in a proper channel. to leave these cares to the vain hope, that reason and maturity will gradually fix the wandering mind, and bring it to a proper sense of its duty, is as absurd and ridiculous as to expect that the fiery steed, who has never felt the spur nor the curb, the saddle nor the bridle, will with age become the peaceful, the quiet, and the obedient animal. nature seems, in some instances, to have given to the inferior class of beings that degree of instinct, which sometimes puts human reason to the blush. shall inferior beings, merely by the power of instinct qualities, show more care and prudence in rearing their tender offspring, than proud man, with all his lordly and boasted superiority of human reason? _dr. sterne._ when i was last summer on my travels through yorkshire, i one day met with a person who gave me a very singular history of himself, of the veracity of which i was assured by some gentlemen i might rely upon. i shall repeat his history to you, as nearly as i can recollect, in his own words. though i was born of poor parents, said he, i was fortunate enough to pick up a tolerable education in one of those public schools in the country, which are supported by voluntary and charitable contributions. nature formed me of an active and lively disposition; and, as i grew up, my vanity began to flatter me, that i was not destitute of genius. i happened one day, accidentally, to take up the tragedy of the orphan, when i was particularly struck with the following lines, which i seemed inclined never to forget: "i would be busy in the world, and learn; not like a coarse and worthless dunghill weed, fix'd to one spot, to rot just where i grow." as soon as i had reached the age of fourteen, i was discharged from the school, when my parents put me to the farming business; but my ideas soared above that menial profession. i had frequently heard it mentioned in our village, that the only place for preferment was the great and rich city of london; where a young fellow had only to get himself hired as a porter in some respectable shop, and he would soon rise to be shopman, then clerk, then master, and at last a common-councilman, or an alderman, if not a lord mayor. i, therefore, soon determined to leave my native village, and hasten up to this centre of preferment and happiness. on my arrival in london, i was advised to apply to a register office, from whence i was sent to a capital grocer in the city, who was then in want of a porter, and where i was accordingly engaged. "how happy am i," said i to myself, "at once to jump into so capital a place? i shall here learn a fine business, and in time, like my master, keep a splendid coach, horses, and livery servants." however, i was here very sadly mistaken; for i was constantly every day so driven about, from one end of the town to the other, with loads, that i had no opportunity of getting the least insight into the business; and every sunday morning i almost sunk under a load of various kinds of provisions i was forced to carry to our villa in kentish-town, from whence i returned in the evening with a still more enormous burden of the produce of the garden, consisting of cabbages, turnips, and potatoes, or whatever happened to be in season, for the use of the townhouse, during the ensuing week. i, therefore, was not much displeased at being obliged to quit this service on my master's becoming a bankrupt. i next engaged myself with a wholesale linen-draper, to open and shut up shop, and go occasionally on errands; but here again i was disappointed, being obliged to employ all my leisure hours in blacking shoes, cleaning knives, or whatever the cook-maid was pleased to set me about. my stay here consequently was but short, any more than in my next place, where my master starved his servants in order to feed his horses. i shall not trouble you with an account of all the places i was in, during the space of seven years, without the least hopes of success, till, by accident, i got to be a kind of shopman at a tobacconist's. here hope seemed to afford me some glimmerings of success, as i was well treated in the house, and taken particular notice of by my master, who was very rich, and had an only daughter, who was young and beautiful. i soon fell in love equally with her person and her fortune, and had great reason to believe, from her looks, that i was not indifferent to her. one evening, when all the family were out on a visit, and miss had thought proper to stay at home, being a little indisposed, i determined to improve the favourable opportunity, and, by one resolute action, complete the summit of my wishes. i accordingly entered the parlour, threw myself at her feet, and declared my passion for her, assuring her that i could not live without her. she seemed at first surprised; but, recollecting herself, with a most gracious smile, bid me rise and hope. i instantly retired, thinking i had done enough for the first attempt. but, alas! i was called up the next day after dinner, and was desired by miss, in the presence of a large company, who all joined in the laugh against me, not to trouble myself with paying her any further addresses. my master then kicked me down stairs, and out of the house. i am now returned to my native village, having given over all hopes of ever being either a lord mayor, an alderman, or even a common-councilman! * * * * * here dr. sterne finished; and, as the sun was sunk beneath the horizon, and night was speedily advancing, the conversation ended for the present. madam heathcote thanked the company for the favour of their visit, and did not doubt but that the young ladies and gentlemen who were present, would go away pleased and edified by the polite conversation they had heard. [illustration] [illustration] _edwin and matilda._ edwin and his sister were natives of a town in glamorganshire, whose father had but little more to leave them at his death than the virtues he possessed in his lifetime. his character and assiduity procured him an employment of consequence, which, in a few years, enabled him to save a very decent fortune. honour, virtue, and integrity, however amiable in themselves, will not always protect us against the calamities of human life, though they may contribute to soften them. in the midst of his career of business, he was attacked by a long and tedious disorder, which considerably impaired his constitution, and obliged him to relinquish all thoughts of business at a very early age. not long after he had given up all mercantile pursuits, the failure of his banker deprived him of two-thirds of his fortune. the remainder of his possessions, which consisted only of the house he then lived in, and a few cottages in the village, afforded him but a scanty pittance for the support of his wife and two children, edwin, then about ten years of age, and matilda, about nine. their mother was tenderly fond of them, and consequently was less able to endure the afflicting prospect of seeing them reduced so low, and her philosophy failed her in this instance. the narrow scale of living to which she was now forced to submit, and the parting with many little comforts and conveniences in which she had taken pleasure to indulge her children, and which they were no more to expect;--the affliction of seeing her dear edwin and matilda become her servants, and that dumb sorrow she fancied she beheld in their countenances whenever she looked on them;--all these, and many other thoughts, crowding on her mind, so weakened and impaired her constitution, that she was no longer the same woman. every time she looked at her children, the tears stole down her cheeks; and her husband, who most tenderly loved her, would sometimes mingle his tears with hers, and at other times retire to conceal them. as edwin was one day gathering apples in the orchard, he perceived his parents in close conversation with each other. a hedge of rosebushes only parted them, so that he heard every thing they said. his mother gave a sigh, and his father thus endeavoured to console her. "i was far from blaming," said he, "the excess of your affliction in the infancy of our misfortunes, and i did not attempt to interrupt you; but now you ought to be wiser from experience, and patiently bear those evils which cannot be removed, but may be increased by our impatience under them. i have concealed my sorrows, fearing they might add to yours; but you, in return, put no restraint on yourself; and you are shortening my days, without being sensible of what you are doing. i love my children no less than you, and feel for their misfortune in losing what i hoped they would live to enjoy after we were no more. consider my infirmities, which will probably carry me to my long home before you. you must then act the part of father and mother; but how will you be able to do this, if you give way to such immoderate grief? you are sensible these misfortunes are not my own seeking; they are the works of the almighty, and it is impiety not to submit to them. it has pleased him to deprive me of my property and health, while you deprive me of the satisfaction of seeing you submissive to his decrees. i see sorrow must pursue me to the grave, and you will not help to protract that awful hour of my dissolution." edwin treasured up in his youthful bosom every word that dropped from the lips of his father, but his mother answered only in sighs and half-finished words. "do not distress your mind," continued her husband, "on the hapless situation of our children, since they may still be happy though deprived of their fortune. edwin has noble and generous sentiments; and matilda has been brought up in the strictest principles of virtue. let us, therefore, set our children an example, by teaching them to submit to the will of providence, instead of teaching them to repine at his decrees." as soon as the conversation was ended, edwin got away as softly as he could, and, going into the house, met his sister matilda, who, as she saw him look very serious, asked him what was the matter with him. they went together into the parlour, when edwin thus addressed his sister. "ah! my dear sister, had you, like me, heard what has just passed between my father and mother, on our account, i am sure you would have been equally afflicted. i was very near the arbour in which they were conversing; but though i could hear every thing they said, they could not see me. my mother talks of nothing but about our being ruined; and my father says every thing he can to pacify and comfort her. you well know, that my father has never had a good state of health, and my mother's is going very fast; so that i fear we shall soon lose them both. what, my dear sister, will become of us, and what shall we do without them? i could wish to die with them." "let us hope," replied matilda, "that things will not go so hard with us. do not let such melancholy thoughts enter your head, and be particularly careful not to cry in their presence, as that would affect them more than any thing else. let us endeavour to be cheerful, and when they see us so, it will possibly lessen their affliction. they love us tenderly, and we ought, in return, to do every thing in our power to make them cheerful and contented, if we cannot make them happy." their father, coming to the door just as they began their conversation, stopped short, and heard every word that passed between the two young folks. his heart could not fail of being tenderly affected by their conversation, he rushed into the room, and caught them in his arms. "my dear children," said he, "how amiable is your conduct, and how worthy are you of a better fortune!" he then took them by the hand, and led them to their mother, who was reading in another room. "lay down your book," said he, "and kiss your children; for neither of us need be any more afflicted on their account. they stand not in need of our pity, for they have resources of happiness within their own youthful bosoms. we have been deceiving each other, in thus afflicting ourselves on their account, when nothing has disturbed them. nothing can be wanting to the possessors of so much virtue." he then related to their mother the conversation he had just overheard, and appealed to her tenderest feelings, whether she ought not to exert herself to the utmost to make herself happy, and endeavour to promote the felicity of two such children. their mother again shed tears, but they were tears of joy. "i will from henceforth," said she, "endeavour to quiet the storm within my breast, that i may be the better able to take care of my dear children. it would be disgraceful in me, to let the world see that i have children from whom i have to learn lessons of philosophy." edwin and matilda were so lost in the delightful sensations they received from the words and caresses of their parents, that they thought themselves the happiest of all little mortals. from this moment all their griefs and anxities seemed to subside, and the six following months glided away without even a desponding look from either of the parties. edwin frequently walked abroad with his father, who constantly taught him to draw some moral reflection, or some useful knowledge in the commerce of life, from every thing they saw. it is too often the case with parents, when they take their children abroad, to amuse themselves with their gossiping tales, instead of teaching them to reflect upon the different interesting subjects that fall within their view. children are much sooner capable of reflecting than the generality of parents are aware of; and they would soon be convinced of the truth of this assertion, would they but make the trial, wait patiently for their answers, and endeavour to correct their youthful ideas when wrong. six months had now slid away in peace and serenity; but the apparent tranquility of their mother was only in outward appearance. despair had taken deep root in her heart, and was secretly making great havoc with her constitution. a fever at last seized her, which soon put a period to her life. the death of their mother was the source of inexpressible sorrow to her husband, who never recovered the shock it gave him. she expired in his arms, while poor edwin and matilda were drowned in tears by her side. the house, for some time, afforded one continued scene of lamentation. her character was truly amiable; her children obeyed her through love, for fear had no share in their duty. she possessed the happy skill of penetrating into the infant heart, and making it sensible, by its own feelings, of the propriety of what she commanded to be done. thus she at once improved the heart and understanding, without ruffling the infant mind. edwin and matilda severely felt the loss of their mother; but it was a still greater shock to their father, whose health, which was bad enough before, evidently grew worse from this fatal stroke. grief brought on a complication of disorders, which soon confined him to his bed; and in this sad situation he lived near a twelvemonth, when, his strength being totally exhausted, he expired in the arms of his son. the situation of edwin and matilda was much to be pitied. they had no relation left to fly to, and friends are rarely to be found when distress seeks them. edwin was almost driven to despair; but matilda had more fortitude, and recalled her brother back to reason. it is certain, that the female mind, in scenes of distress, often shows more fortitude than we meet with in men. the young orphans agreed to live together, and cultivate the little spot that was left them. the remembrance of the virtues of their parents animated their labour, and their moderation regulated their wants. they enjoyed the sweets of friendship, and lived happily, because they had learned how to be contented with little. remember, my youthful readers, how fleeting and uncertain is the possession of riches. of these fortune may deprive you, but it cannot rob you of your virtue. virtue is an invaluable treasure, which even the revolutions of states and empires cannot take from you. like edwin and matilda, love and reverence your parents, cherish them in the evening of their days, and be a comfort to them in the time of trial, in the hour of sickness, and in the expiring moments of their lives. let every wise mother imitate the mother of edwin and matilda, who never suffered passion to get the upper hand of her reason, when she argued with her children on those little imperfections, which young people are apt to run into, and which are necessary to be corrected. it is better to be beloved than feared; but to indulge children in excesses, will neither create fear nor esteem. happy are those parents who have such children as edwin and matilda; and happy those children who know how properly to love, honour, and obey their parents. [illustration] [illustration] _the pious hermit._ at the bottom of the cordillieres, whose towering summits overlook peru and chili in the new world, as it is called, is situated an uninhabited spot of land, on which nature has exhausted all her art, being decorated with innumerable beauties. woods of stately poplars rear their heads to the clouds, and odoriferous groves shed their fragrance over every part of it; while the roaring river oroonoko rolls its majestic floods through an immense bed which, at length exhausting itself, contracts into peaceful rills and meandering streams. these beauties are terminated by a thick, gloomy forest, which serves as a foil to these enchanting beauties. in this charming solitude lived nestor, an old and venerable hermit, who, for a long time, had withdrawn himself from the tumultuous bustle of the world, and had seen forty revolving suns pass over his head in this peaceful retreat. a stranger to the passions, without wishes or desires, he passed his life in tranquility, without the fear of experiencing either cares or disappointments. he was grown old in the practice of virtue, for this spot afforded not even the shadow of temptations. he felt not the infirmities which are natural to old age; nor had he any of those complaints, to which the luxurious inhabitants of cities and large towns are subject before they reach the meridian of their lives. he had made himself a hut at the foot of a verdant hill, that screened it from the cold blasts of winter. thick leaves and sod composed its walls, which time had covered and cemented with a mossy crust. a plantation of various trees, peculiar to the soil, reared their lofty heads around his mansion, and a narrow path led through them to his rustic habitation. a clear and transparent spring arose near his hut; which, after forming a little bason for domestic services, overflowed and fled away in meandering streams through the wood. his time was employed in cultivating a little garden he had made contiguous to his house. here he studied the works of nature, and explored her wonderful operations in the production of fruits and vegetables. here nature furnished him with a volume that was never to be read through, but discovered something new every time it was opened. the sun was one evening sinking beneath the horizon, when nestor was seated on the stump of a tree, near the door of his hut, shaded with woodbines and jessamines. his venerable front, which was now whitened by time, was lifted up towards heaven; calmness and serenity were seated on his countenance, and every thing about him accorded with wisdom and philosophy. "how i delight," said he, "to view the beautiful azure of that glorious firmament! what a variety of beautiful colours show themselves in those clouds! o rich and magnificent dome! when shall i leave this sublunary world, and ascend to those regions of bliss, where my mind will be lost in raptures that will know no end! however, let me not be impatient, since the measure of my life is nearly exhausted. i ought not to repine at the length of my continuance here, since i enjoy, in this solitary retreat, what is denied to almost every one who is engaged in the busy pursuits of life. every thing i possess is my own, and i live in the enjoyment of what is purely natural, without the troublesome alloy of ambition and parade. in whatever direction i turn my view, i see nothing but smiling landscapes. the sun affords to me the same cheering warmth, and its light in as great a degree, as to the first monarch of the earth! should i not live to see his rising beams, yet he will rise to cheer the hearts of others, when i shall no longer want them. "yonder lie the ruins of that ancient habitation in which once lived the venerable shepherd and his daughter, who taught me how to live, when i retired from the empty bustle of the world, and first took up my abode in these mansions of peace. if their hut be fallen into ruins, it is but an emblem of what will, in a few years, be the fate of the most stately palaces. both he and his daughter now lie at rest under the shade of those neighbouring and lofty poplars. "the scythe of time mows down every thing that comes within the reach of its keen edge; it has destroyed not only towns and cities, but even whole empires, which were once mistresses of the world, and reduced them to a state of pity. the most lofty and luxuriant trees, by time, are reduced to dry trunks, without being able to give nourishment to a single leaf. i have seen huge and tremendous rocks, to all appearance invulnerable, crumbled into powder by the roaring thunders and the vivid lightnings. once the rose was blushing in my blooming cheeks; but grey hairs have now covered my head, and wrinkles hide my forehead. but the time is now coming, in which my mortal race will be finished." a young man had, for some years, taken a part in his solitude, and as the virtuous nestor found himself weak and exhausted, he exerted himself in calling upon the youth. misfortunes more severe than those that generally happen to mortal beings, first brought him into this charming solitude. the pleasing gloom of that retreat, which was not without its beauties to change the scenes, soon calmed the storm within his bosom, and made him happy in retirement; to which the conversation of the venerable old man contributed not a little. "come hither, my son," said the virtuous nestor in faltering accents, "and embrace your friend for the last time in this world. my eyes will soon be closed for ever, and i must return to the earth from whence i came. complain not that i go before you to the regions of bliss, for i have enjoyed a long succession of happy years. my career is finished, and i die without a murmur. it is our ignorance only of what may be our state hereafter, that makes men afraid of death; but everlasting happiness is promised to us, and death puts us in possession of it. though you will in me lose a mortal friend, yet i leave you one in heaven who is eternal, and who never will forsake you, so long as you pursue the paths of virtue. as soon as i shall be no more, dig my grave close by the poplar which grows on the borders of the river, where it waters my last plantation. that spot afforded me infinite delight while i was living, and there i wish my body to repose. this is the last favour i have to ask of you. farewell for ever, my virtuous companion.--the earth seems to fly from me--my time is come--once more, farewell.--grieve not for the loss of me, but respect my memory.--keep constantly in your view the example which it has pleased heaven to permit me to set you, and you will be happy, because you will be virtuous." having finished these words, the good nestor closed his eyes, and expired without a struggle; he passed away like a cloud floating in the ambient air, which insensibly disperses and dissipates itself in a sky of azure. how peaceful and tranquil are the last moments of the virtuous man! the youth looked stedfastly on that venerable front, which appeared graceful even in death. he embraced him, and could not help sighing. "o my dear father," said he, "you are no more! you leave me in this solitude, without any one to partake of it with me. who will, in future, be the comfort of my existence? and to whom am i to tell my tales of past woe?" his heart was sensibly affected, and the tears flowed down his cheeks; but he recollected the last words of his friend nestor, and endeavoured to moderate his grief. he took the body on his shoulders, and carried it to the place where nestor had desired it might be buried. being come to the borders of the river, he gently laid down the body of his deceased friend, and then dug the grave. while he was thus sadly employed in his last work for nestor, he thought all nature, and whatever breathed throughout the region round him, united their tears for his virtuous benefactor. after he had deposited the body in the grave, it was some time before he could prevail on himself to cover it with the earth. he felt his heart very powerfully affected; he stood almost motionless, and the tears stole insensibly down his cheeks. "happy nestor," said he, "you can neither see nor condemn my weakness. if you could, you would forgive me, and pity me. you were my father, philosopher, and friend; you taught me to love you, and now i have lost you. let me indulge my tears in this melancholy moment, as the only tribute i can pay to your virtues." he then proceeded to fill up the grave; but every shovelful of earth was accompanied with a sigh. when he had covered part of his face, he stopped suddenly. "farewell, my dear friend," said the generous and pious youth, "a little more earth, and then you will be lost from my sight for ever! it is the decree of heaven, it must be so, and it is my duty to submit. but though you will soon be for ever lost from my sight, your memory will never be erased from my mind, till my mortal clay, like yours, shall be incapable of knowing what passes in this world. may my end be like yours, peaceful, composed, and tranquil." after a few minutes pause, he proceeded in his business, filled up the grave, and covered it with the most verdant turf he could find. he then planted round it the woodbine and jessamine, and inclosed the whole with a fence of blushing roses. his business being now completed, he turned to the transparent stream, and thus uttered his devotions, to which no mortal could be witness, and his plaintive accents were heard only by the wafting gentle zephyrs. "thou great and omnipotent being, who, in your gracious bounty to me, unworthy wretch as i am, have been pleased to take me from the regions of folly, and place me here in those of innocence and virtue, where i have learned to forget the former dreadful misfortunes of my life, grant me, o gracious heaven! thy protection, and endow me with the same virtues that reverend sage possessed, to whose memory i have just paid the last duties. left as i am without either guide or companion, his sacred ashes shall supply the place of them. sooner shall this stream cease to flow, and the sun withdraw its benign influence from these happy regions, than i to wander from the paths into which my departed friend has conducted me." though nestor's death left the virtuous youth without friend or companion, yet he in some measure consoled himself for that loss by daily visiting his grave, and cautiously watching the growth of that funeral plantation. he suffered not a weed to grow near it, and kept every thing about it in the highest state of perfection. every morning and evening the birds assembled in the surrounding bushes, and warbled forth their notes over the departed sage. though it is neither to be expected nor wished, that my youthful readers should turn hermits, yet it would be proper for them to remember, that happiness is not always to be found among the bustling crowd, where every thing appears under borrowed shapes. in whatever condition fortune may place them, let them remember this one certain truth, that there can be no real happiness where virtue is wanting. [illustration] [illustration] _the caprice of fortune._ painters represent fortune with a bandage over her eyes, by which they mean to tell us, that she distributes her gifts indiscriminately, and as chance happens to throw a happy object in her way, without paying regard to either virtue or merit. the following short history will evince the truth of the old adage, that there is a something necessary, besides merit and industry, to make a person's fortune in this capricious world. a brave old soldier, whom i shall conceal under the borrowed name of ulysses, had acquired immortal honours in the service of his country on the field of battle. having passed the prime of his life in actual service, he retired to pass the evening of his days in the circle of his family, and the care of his children. he tenderly loved his offspring, and he had the inexpressible pleasure and delight to find himself beloved by them. as his eldest son had entered into a marriage contract by the consent of all parties, a house was taken for the young couple, and the necessary repairs and embellishments were not forgotten. one of the apartments being designed for pictures, the generous youth, without acquainting his father with his design, employed a painter to describe all the heroic actions of his sire. this business was completed with great expedition and secrecy, and as soon as the house was properly ornamented and furnished, the young gentleman invited all his relations and particular acquaintances to partake of an elegant dinner, on his commencing housekeeping. when the veteran entered the room, where all his glorious actions were represented in the most lively colours, he could not avoid being singularly struck with the generous piety of his son. the company were at a loss which they should most admire, the heroic exploits of the father, or the exemplary conduct of the son. the old general surveyed every picture with an air of carelessness, at which the company were not a little surprised, and could not help wondering at his composed indifference. "you acted very properly, son," said the old gentleman, "to conceal your intentions of this matter from me till you had completed it, as i otherwise should most certainly have stifled it in its birth. what you have thus done is a convincing proof of your love and affection for me; but, however sensible it may make me of your attachments to me, yet it does not much flatter my vanity. "few pieces of biography are correct on their first appearance in the world, where the parties meant to be handed down to posterity have not been previously consulted. the most particular event, from the want of proper information, is frequently omitted. such is the case, my son, in the present instance. there is one circumstance in my life which ought to have been recorded, since to that action alone i owe all my fortune, and my promotion in the army." however, as dinner was then serving up, the conversation was dropped, and the company very soon began to have something else to think of. the next day, however, being at dinner with his children and a small party of friends, his son requested him to inform him what was that heroic act he had forgotten in his penciled history. the general replied, he had no objections to do so, but observed, that it would be necessary to go into the room where the pictures were hanging. as soon as they had entered the room, the general began his observations on the paintings. "i suppose son," said he, "you have terminated the first line with that in which his majesty is supposed to have made me a lieutenant-general. in this, indeed, you have made a very capital error, as you have here brought together events that happened at different periods. but i would wish to know, whether the military honours i have received, were in consequence of the actions represented in this picture, or on account of what is represented in the whole." the young gentleman replied, without the least hesitation, that the honours he had received were in consequence of all his services, and not of any single one. "you are very much mistaken," said the general, "for it was in consequence only of one action in my life, that i enjoy my present honours; and this action you have not recorded." the young gentleman was very much surprised to think that he should forget the principal occurrence of his father's life, and that too from which alone he was raised in the army. he censured his own want of memory, and was the more angry with himself, as he could not even then recollect it. "do not make yourself uneasy," said the general to his son, "for it is not possible that you could paint an action you never knew any thing of. it is a transaction which i have never yet related to any one; but i shall now give you the particulars. "during the very early part of my life as a soldier, i lost my left leg, and received so dangerous a wound in my head, that my life was for some time despaired of, nor did i perfectly recover of it till after sixteen months had elapsed. i lost my three youngest sons on the field of battle, where they bled in the service of their king and country. "notwithstanding all these services, i enjoyed no higher rank than that of a major for nearly thirty years, while in that battle, in which i lost my limb, my general fled, in order to preserve his precious life from danger, and was rewarded with a title and a pension. but he was the nephew of a favourite at court, who took care to represent him to his sovereign and the nation, as having on the day of battle exposed himself to the most imminent dangers. it may easily be supposed, that my affections for my family, and my wishes to do well for them, induced me to hope for preferment. numbers were, like me, seeking for promotion; but i could not, like the generality of them, stoop to their means to obtain it; and if they had not more merit than myself, at least they had better fortune. tired out with expectations that met with nothing but disappointments, i took the resolution to hang about the court no longer in expectancy, but to retire into the country, and there spend the remainder of my days in private. however, fortune at length smiled on me, and, when i least expected it, led me into the path of fame and preferment. of this circumstance not the least notice is taken in your paintings!" the young gentleman appeared very much astonished, and could not guess what this circumstance could be, which he had omitted in his pictures, since he apprehended that he was well acquainted with all the material occurrences in the life of his father. "i know not, sir," said his son, "what this circumstance can be that i have omitted. perhaps it may be something which the pencil of the artist cannot express. i must confess, that i long much to know what this occurrence can be." "nothing can be more easy," replied the general, "than to represent this scene on canvass: a beautiful river, ladies weeping on the borders of it, and i on horseback in the liquid stream, holding a little lap-dog in a half-drowned condition. surely this could not be a very difficult scene for an able pencil to represent, and could give but little trouble to the painter!" the young gentleman could hardly think his father serious, and could not comprehend how such a scene as this could be considered as one of the general's most glorious military exploits, by which he had gained his promotion as a soldier. he, therefore, begged he would be pleased to explain himself more fully. "trifling as you may think this exploit," replied the veteran, "i owe to it my present promotion, which the loss of a limb in the field of battle could not procure me. i will give you the history of this strange affair in as few words as possible. "as i was one morning riding on horseback, for the benefit of the air, as well as for the advantage of exercise, on the beautiful banks of the thames, near richmond, a coach passed me.--curiosity induced me to look into it, when i discovered the mistress of the minister; who appeared to me as a pretty doll, agreeable to behold, but from whom you must expect neither sense nor reason, and but a very small share of modesty, that first accomplishment of the fair sex. though she knew me perfectly well, she condescended only to give me a nod, and having driven to some distance before me, she got out of her carriage to walk with her companions on the banks of the river. "in order to avoid giving her the trouble of taking notice of me again, i turned into a lane; but hardly had i entered it, when i heard a cry of distress from the same women. i doubted not but some misfortune had happened to them, and i, therefore, galloped towards them. as soon as i got to them, the pretty doll cried out, 'help, help, dear major! my dear sweet chloe has fallen into the water, and is unable to get out!--the poor dear will be drowned, and i shall die with grief. save him, major, save him, i beg of you.' "though i cared as little for the mistress as for the animal, yet compassion urged me to put spurs to my horse, and get into the river. i happened to get hold of the ugly cur, and brought him in safety to his mistress. i know not whether the scene which followed excited most pity or contempt, since the most affectionate mother could not have shown more joy on the recovery of her child. the idle and ridiculous congratulations from the company, and their eager endeavours who should be first to caress the ugly animal, exceeds all description. every mouth was open, and every tongue was in motion, each endeavouring to be most noticed by the doll of fashion. "as i apprehended my company was no longer wanted, i was about taking my leave, when the little dog's mistress pressed me so warmly to stay, that i alighted from my horse, and she took me by the arm. as we sauntered along, at a little distance behind the company, and out of their reach of hearing, she told me, she had been informed, some time before, what rank i had been soliciting for. 'if i forget this service,' said she, 'and if the minister is not from this day your warmest advocate,--then major--o my poor dear chloe!--you shall see--yes, that you shall.' "i made her a bow without saying any thing; for i was too proud to wish to owe my preferment to such a woman, and to such paltry services.--however, the very next day, i was sent for to the minister's levee, when he drew me aside, and told me, that the king had recollected both my name and my services, and that he himself had represented the justice there would be in my promotion. in short, in less than a month from that day, i was promoted to the rank of a lieutenant-general. thus, by saving the life of a little ugly animal, did i obtain more than all my services in the field could procure me." [illustration] [illustration] _the melancholy effects of pride._ a few miles distant from the metropolis lived an industrious farmer, who had a son named bounce. he had so strong a propensity to the military life, that he was observed to be continually shouldering his hoe, and treating it in other respects as a gun. he was fond of the company of soldiers, and took great delight in hearing them repeat their accounts of sieges and battles. when he had reached the eighteenth year of his age, he enlisted in one of the marching regiments; and as he had previously learned at school to read, write, and cast up common accounts, he became so useful in his present station, that he was first made a corporal, and soon after was advanced to the higher state of a serjeant. much about this time, war was declared between england and france, and, by a succession of the most fortunate circumstances, at the commencement of the campaign, he had a lieutenantcy given him. he behaved with great conduct on all occasions, and whenever any bold and daring enterprise was to be undertaken, he was always appointed to command it, and constantly came off with honour. the examples he set others of his bravery, made every soldier under him as brave as himself. so strongly had his conduct recommended him to the favour of his general, that he soon after presented him with a company, in order that his fortune might raise in the common soldiers an emulation to imitate his conduct. he had not long enjoyed this new promotion, when a most desperate battle was fought, which proved fatal to several superior officers. on this occasion, bounce, who had performed wonders during the battle, was instantly appointed a major. his exploits had often been recorded in the public papers, which being read in his native village, all the inhabitants ran to congratulate his parents on the occasion. his parents and brothers, undoubtedly, were not a little flattered with the bravery and good fortune of bounce. the tear of joy would frequently steal down their cheeks when these matters were mentioned. they longed for the happy day in which he was to return, that they might have the inexpressible pleasure of embracing a son and brother in their arms, whose bravery had done so much honour to his family, and raised himself to such an elevated situation. we have hitherto only surveyed the brilliant colourings of the picture; but we must now proceed to examine its shades. all his good qualities were tarnished by one predominant and odious vice, which was pride. in relating the history of his own achievements, he would consider himself as little less than an alexander or a cã¦sar. he paid himself all the compliments for his heroic actions, which the most fulsome flatterer would give a victorious prince in his presence.--he assumed to himself all the honours of every battle he had been engaged in, without allowing the least merit to any other officer. all parties being at last tired of the war, many thousands of their subjects having perished in the contest, many widows left to bemoan their husbands, and a great number of children to lament the loss of their fathers, a general peace put an end to this horrid carnage of human beings. it so happened, that the regiment to which bounce belonged was directed to pass along the road on which his father's house was situated, in order to proceed to windsor, where it was to be disbanded. by this time, his father and mother had paid their last debt to nature; but his brothers, who were still living, hearing of his approach, ran to meet him, accompanied by many others in the village. they soon found him at the head of his battalion, exercising his men, in quality of captain and major. they ran to him with open arms, saying, "o dear bounce! were but our parents now living, what joy would this give to their aged hearts! my brother and i have been long sighing for this moment of seeing and embracing you. thanks to that god who has preserved you through so many dangers, and at last has afforded us this inexpressible pleasure!" having thus said, the two brothers attempted to embrace him. the major, however, was very much displeased, that men, who had no cockades in their hats, should presume to take these freedoms with him, and call him brother. he pushed them from him, and treated their marks of affection with insolence and contempt. "what do you mean," said he, "by taking these freedoms with me?"--"is it possible," replied the younger brother, "that you have forgotten us? look at me, i am george, whom you formerly loved, whom you taught to dig and sow this ground, when i was but a little one, and not higher than the length of the sword which now dangles by your side." this put the major into a violent rage, and he threatened he would have them apprehended as impostors, if they did not immediately depart. this scene of pride and vanity passed at the head of his battalion, to which every soldier was witness. they dared not to speak their minds openly, but in their hearts execrated his conduct. they vented their indignation in whispers to each other. "is it possible," said they, "that our major can be ashamed of having once been what we are at present? on the contrary, he ought to think himself happy, and be thankful, that fortune has raised him from nothing to what he now is. it is more to the honour and reputation of a man, to acquire a fortune by merit, than it is to be born to one." these were sentiments, however, of which bounce had no idea; the fortune he met with seemed to increase the depravity of his heart rather than correct it. he even wished his fellow-soldiers to forget that he had originally been, like them, one of the rank and file, and consequently treated them with the most haughty and insolent contempt; while they, on the other hand, viewed him in the just light in which men ought to be considered, who, having soared above their original obscurity, suffer themselves to be led away by the empty parade of pride and ambition. as he was one day reviewing the regiment in the presence of the colonel, the latter having found some fault in his method of giving the word of command, he gave him a very insolent and haughty answer, such as the military laws will not admit an inferior to give to a superior officer. he had frequently before given shameful instances of his pride and arrogance to those of higher rank; his colonel, therefore, determined to try him by a court-martial, and at once punish him for all his audacious infractions of the military law. he was accordingly tried, found guilty, and solemnly declared incapable of serving any longer in the army. he was disgraced and ruined. it can hardly be expected, that such a man as we have here described, could have any great share of prudence or economy in the management of his private affairs. he was not worth any thing at the time of his disgrace, and, therefore, found himself obliged either to labour for his living, or starve. what a situation for a man to be reduced to, who, but a little while since, ingloriously despised that condition, which he was now forced to apply to for his subsistence! necessity, at last, obliged him to pay a visit to the place of his nativity, and beg the assistance of those whom he had so lately despised. the villagers, when they saw him thus reduced, in their turn, treated him with contempt, and made him experience how dangerous it is, whatever may be our present fortune, to despise any one merely because he may not be so great as ourselves.--during the whole course of his prosperity he had formed no friendly connections, and therefore now, in the hour of adversity, he had no creature to apply to, either to advise or assist him. thus had his pride and folly deprived him of one of the greatest blessings of this life. the mind receives some little consolation in being _pitied_; but deplorable indeed is his situation, who cannot command that most trifling relief. finding himself neglected and despised by every one he had hitherto applied to, he was at last forced to seek relief from his brothers, whom he had lately insulted so cruelly. it was now, indeed, their turn to retaliate on him; but they had souls far greater than his. they despised every idea of mean revenge, and did him all the service they could under his present difficulties. the little matters their father had left them had long been divided among them, and bounce had made away with his share, as well as with all his pay. in this situation, the brothers gave him a little spot of ground to cultivate, on which he was obliged to employ all his time, in order to procure a scanty subsistence. he had now time enough to reflect on the elevated station from which his pride and folly had thrown him. he would frequently exclaim to himself, "o diabolical pride, to what a melancholy situation hast thou brought me! why, o fortune! did you raise me so far above my original character, as to make me forget my former situation, and thereby make my fall more inglorious and irreparable? had you not raised me above the state of a subaltern, i might have still been happy; but, by making me great, you have ruined and undone me!" ideas and reflections such as these perpetually haunted him, and interrupted his repose; until death, more kind to him than fortune, put an end to his feelings and sufferings by an untimely end, leaving an example of the fatal consequences which pride brings in its train. be cautious, my youthful readers, how you suffer this vice to get possession of your hearts, since it renders deformed the most perfect beauty, and eclipses the most brilliant accomplishments. [illustration] [illustration] _the nettle and the rose._ we may consider human life as a garden, in which roses and nettles are promiscuously scattered, and in which we often feel the sting of the wounding nettle, while we enjoy the fragrance of the blooming rose. those bowers of delight, entwined with the woodbine and jessamine, under whose friendly umbrage we seek shelter from the noon-day sun, frequently are the abode of snakes, adders, and venomous creatures, which wound us in those unguarded scenes of delight. as the year has its seasons, and winter and summer are constantly in pursuit of each other; so changeable likewise is the condition of mortals; and, as the elements are frequently disturbed by storms, hurricanes, and tempests, so is the human mind frequently ruffled and indisposed, till the sun-shine of reason and philosophy bursts forth and dispels the gloom. murmuring brooks, purling streams, and sequestered groves, whatever the fictions of a poetical imagination may have advanced, are not always the seat of unmingled pleasure, nor the abode of uninterrupted happiness. the hapless florio pined away some months on the delightful banks of the severn: he complained of the cruelty of the lovely anabella, and told his fond tale to the waters of that impetuous stream, which hurried along regardless of his plaints. he gathered the lilies of the field; but the lilies were not so fair as his anabella, nor the fragrance of the blushing rose so sweet as her breath; the lambs were not so innocent, nor the sound of the tabor on the green half so melodious as her voice. time, however, has joined florio and anabella in the fetters of wedlock, and the plaints of the swain are changed. the delusion of the enchantment is vanished, and what he but lately considered as the only object worthy of his sublunary pursuit, he now contemplates with coolness, indifference, and disgust: enjoyment has metamorphosed the rose into a nettle. ernestus, contrary to his inclinations, was compelled by his parents to marry the amiable clara, whose sense, tenderness, and virtues, soon fixed the heart of the roving ernestus; and what at first gave him pain and disgust, by degrees became familiar, pleasing, and delightful. here the nettle was changed to the rose. the wandering libertine, who pursues the rose through the unlawful paths of love, who tramples on every tender plant that comes within his reach, and who roves from flower to flower, like the bee, only to rob it of its sweets, will at last lose his way; and, when benighted, be compelled to repose on the restless bed of wounding nettles. the blooming rose is an utter stranger to the regions of ambition, where gloomy clouds perpetually obscure the beams of the joyful sun; where the gentle zephyrs never waft through the groves, but discordant blasts are perpetually howling, and where the climate produces only thorns and nettles. the rose reaches its highest perfection in the garden of industry, where the soil is neither too luxuriant, nor too much impoverished. temperance fans it with the gentlest breezes, and health and contentment sport around it. here the nettle no sooner makes its appearance, than the watchful eye of prudence espies it; and, though it may not be possible totally to eradicate it, it is never suffered to reach to any height of perfection. since then human life is but a garden, in which weeds and flowers promiscuously shoot up and thrive, let us do what we can to encourage the culture of the rose, and guard against the spreading nettle. however barren may be the soil that falls to our lot, a careful and assiduous culture will contribute not a little to make the garden, at least, pleasing and cheerful. [illustration: finis] printed by j. swan, 76, fleet street. transcriber's notes: punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced quotation marks retained. ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. occasional occurrences of the archaic long "s" (printed as "f") have been replaced with the modern "s". occasional missing periods and opening or closing quotation marks remedied. page 95: "though her visitors did not look" was printed as "visiters", but was changed here for consistency with other occurrences of "visitor" or "visitors" in this text. page 97: "spised" probably should be "despised". transcriber's note: chapter headings in the table of contents and in the main body of the book appear as they do in the original. phrases printed in italics in the original version are indicated in this electronic version by _ (underscore). a list of amendments are given at the end of the book. the looking-glass for the mind; or intellectual mirror; being an elegant collection of the most delightful little stories and interesting tales: chiefly translated from that much admired work l'ami des enfans. with seventy-four cuts, designed and engraved on wood, by i. bewick the sixteenth edition. london: printed for john harris, g. whittaker, harvey and co., longman and co., j. and c. rivington, t. cadell, h. s. kirby, baldwin and co., hamilton and co., j. souter, simpkin and co., and j. nunn. 1825 printed by s. and r. bentley, dorset street, fleet street, london. preface. the following pages may be considered rather as a collection of the beauties of m. berquin, than as a literally abridged translation of that work, several original thoughts and observations being occasionally introduced into different parts of them. the stories here collected are of a most interesting kind, since virtue is constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice as the source of every evil. nothing extravagant or romantic will be found in these tales: neither enchanted castles, nor supernatural agents, but such scenes are exhibited as come within the reach of the observations of young people in common life; the whole being made familiar by an innocent turn of thought and expression, and applied to describe their amusements, their pursuits, and their necessities. as a useful and instructive _pocket looking-glass_, we recommend it for the instruction of every youth, whether miss or master; it is a _mirror_ that will not flatter them, nor lead them into error; it displays the follies and improper pursuits of youthful breasts, points out the dangerous paths they sometimes tread, and clears the way to the _temple of honour and fame_. contents. little adolphus 1 anabella's journey to market 8 the absurdity of young people's wishes exposed 16 louisa's tenderness to the little birds in winter 21 the story of bertrand, a poor labourer, and his little family 31 nancy and her canary-bird, poor cherry 38 the birds, the thorn-bushes, and the sheep 48 poor crazy samuel, and the mischievous boys 54 bella and marian 60 little jack 75 leonora and adolphus 91 flora and her little lamb 97 the fruitful vine 102 sir john denham and his worthy tenant 107 alfred and dorinda 118 rosina; or, the froward girl reformed 122 little anthony 128 history of jonathan the gardener 132 the sparrow's nest 138 william and thomas; or, the contrast between industry and indolence 145 mischief its own punishment 150 antony and augustus; or, rational education preferable to riches 158 the destructive consequences of dissipation & luxury 167 william and amelia 175 the rival dogs 187 cleopatra; or, the reformed little tyrant 193 the passionate boy 197 caroline; or, a lesson to cure vanity 201 arthur and adrian; or, two heads better than one 213 madam d'allone and her four pupils 217 the bird's egg 224 the covetous boy 234 dissipation the certain road to ruin 242 calumny and scandal great enemies to society 247 clarissa; or, the grateful orphan 252 returning good for evil, the noblest revenge 257 grey hairs made happy 263 the looking glass. little adolphus. [illustration] in one of the villages in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, lived little adolphus, who had the misfortune to lose his mother before he had reached his eighth year. notwithstanding his early age, this loss made a strong impression on his mind, and evidently affected the natural gaiety of his disposition. his aunt, the good mrs. clarkson, soon took him home to her house, in order to remove him from the scene of his affliction, and to prevent his grief adding to the inconsolable sorrows of his father. after the usual time, they left off their mourning; but though little adolphus affected cheerfulness, yet his tender heart still felt for the loss of his mother. his father, whom he sometimes visited, could not avoid observing how little adolphus endeavoured to conceal his grief; and this consideration made him feel the more for the loss of a wife, who had given birth to so promising a child. this made such an impression on his mind, that every one foresaw it would bring on his final dissolution. poor adolphus had not been to see his dear father for some time; for, whenever he proposed it to his aunt, she constantly found some excuse to put it off. the reason was, that mr. clarkson being so ill, she feared that seeing him in that condition would increase the grief of adolphus too much, and lay on his heart a load too heavy for him to support. in short, the loss of his wife, and his uneasiness for his son, put an end to mr. clarkson's life on the day before he reached the fiftieth year of his age. the next morning, little adolphus thus addressed his aunt: "this is my dear father's birth-day, i will go and see him, and wish him joy." she endeavoured to persuade him from it; but, when she found that all her endeavours were in vain, she consented, and then burst into a flood of tears. the little youth was alarmed, and almost afraid to ask any questions. at last, "i fear," said he, "my dear papa is either ill or dead. tell me, my dear aunt, for i must and will know: i will sleep no more till i see my dear father, who so tenderly loves me." mrs. clarkson was unable to speak; but when adolphus saw his aunt take out his mourning clothes, he was too well satisfied of what had happened. "my dear papa is dead!" cried he; "o my papa! my mamma! both dead! what will become of poor adolphus!" and then fainted, when mrs. clarkson found it difficult to bring him to his senses. as soon as he was a little come to himself, "do not afflict yourself, my dear child," said his aunt, "your parents are both living in heaven, and will intercede with god to take care of you while on earth. while he yesterday was dying, his last prayer was for you, and his prayer will be heard." "what! did my dear father die yesterday, while i was thinking of the pleasure i should this day have on seeing him? oh! let me go and see him, since i cannot now disturb him, or make him unhappy on my account. pray, my dear aunt, let me go." mrs. clarkson could not resist his importunities, and, engaged to go along with him, provided he would promise to keep himself composed. "you see my sorrow," said she, "and how much i am grieved for the loss of a brother, who was good, charitable, and humane, and from whose bounty i received the greater part of the means of my livelihood. though i am now left poor and helpless, yet i trust in providence, and you shall see me cry no more. let me entreat you, my dear child, to do the same." poor adolphus promised he would do as she would wish him; when mrs. clarkson took him by the hand, and led him to the melancholy scene. as soon as they were come to the house, adolphus slipped from his aunt, and rushed into the room where his father lay in his coffin, surrounded by his weeping neighbours: he threw himself on the breathless body of his dear papa. after lying some little time in that state, without being able to speak, he at last raised his little head, and cried out, "see how your poor adolphus cries for having lost you. when mamma died, you comforted me, though you wept yourself; but now, to whom am i to look for comfort? o my dear papa, my good papa!" by this time his aunt got into the room, and, with the assistance of the neighbours, forced him from the coffin, and carried him to a friend's house, in order to keep him there till his father should be buried; for his aunt dreaded the thoughts of letting him follow the funeral. the solemn scene was now preparing, and the bell began to toll, which adolphus heard, and every stroke of it pierced his little innocent heart. the woman to whose care he had been left, having stept into another room, he took that opportunity to regain his liberty, got out of doors, and ran towards the churchyard. on his arrival there, he found the funeral service finished, and the grave filling up, when on a sudden, a cry was heard, "let me be buried with my dear papa." he then jumped into the grave. such a scene must naturally affect every one who saw it. they pulled him out of the grave, and carried him home pale and speechless. for several days he refused almost every kind of sustenance, being at intervals subject to fainting fits. after some time, however, the consolations and advice of his good aunt appeared to have some weight with him, and the tempest in his little heart began to abate. the affectionate conduct of adolphus was the conversation for miles round their habitation, and at last reached the ears of a wealthy merchant, who had formerly been a little acquainted with the deceased mr. clarkson. he accordingly went to see the good adolphus, and feeling for his distresses, took him home with him, and treated him as his son. adolphus soon gained the highest opinion of the merchant, and as he grew up, grew more and more in his favour. at the age of twenty, he conducted himself with so much ability and integrity, that the merchant took him into partnership, and married him to his only daughter. adolphus had always too great a soul to be ungenerous: for even during his younger days he denied himself every kind of extravagance, in order to support his aunt; and when he came into possession of a wife and fortune, he placed her in a comfortable station for the remainder of her life. as for himself, he every year, on his father's birth-day, passed it in a retired room alone, sometimes indulging a tear, and sometimes lifting up his heart to heaven, from whence he had received so much. my little readers, if you have the happiness still to have parents living, be thankful to god, and be sensible of the blessing you enjoy. be cautious how you do any thing to offend them; and should you offend them undesignedly, rest neither night nor day till you have obtained their forgiveness. reflect on, and enjoy the happiness that you are not, like poor little adolphus, bereft of your fathers and mothers, and left in the hands, though of a good, yet poor aunt. [illustration] anabella's journey to market. [illustration] nothing can be more natural and pleasing than to see young children fond of their parents. the birds of the air, and even the wild inhabitants of the forest, love and are beloved by their young progeny. little anabella was six years old, very fond of her mamma, and delighted in following her every where. her mother, being one day obliged to go to market, wished to leave her little daughter at home, thinking it would be too fatiguing for anabella, and troublesome to herself; but the child's entreaties to go were so earnest and pressing, that her mother could not withstand them, and at last consented to her request. the cloak and bonnet were soon on, and the little maid set off with her mamma, in high spirits. such was the badness of the paths in some places, that it was impossible for them to walk hand-in-hand, so that anabella was sometimes obliged to trudge on by herself behind her mamma; but these were such kind of hardships as her little spirit was above complaining of. the town now appeared in sight, and the nearer they approached it, the more the paths were thronged with people. anabella was often separated from her mamma; but this did not at present much disturb her, as by skipping over a rut, or slipping between the people as they passed, she soon got up again to her mother. however, the nearer they approached the market, the crowd of course increased, which kept her eyes in full employment, to spy which way her mother went; but a little chaise drawn by six dogs having attracted her attention, she stopped to look at them, and by that means lost sight of her mother, which soon became the cause of much uneasiness to her. here, my little readers, let me pause for a moment, to give you this necessary advice. when you walk abroad with your parents or servants, never look much about you, unless you have hold of their hand, or some part of their apparel. and i hope it will not be deemed impertinent to give similar advice to parents and servants, to take care that children do not wander from them, since, from such neglect, many fatal accidents have happened. but to proceed.-little anabella had not gazed on this object of novelty for more than a minute, before she recollected her mamma, and turned about to look for her; but no mamma was there, and now the afflictions of her heart began. she called aloud, "mamma, mamma;" but no mamma answered. she then crawled up a bank, which afforded her a view all around; but no mamma was to be seen. she now burst into a flood of tears, and sat herself down at the foot of the bank, by which people were passing and repassing in great numbers. almost every body that passed said something or other to her, but none offered to help her to find her mother. "what is the matter with you, my little dear," said one, "that you cry so sadly?" "i have lost my mamma;" said anabella, as well as the grief of her heart would permit her to speak. another told her never to mind it, she would find her again by and by. some said, "do not cry so, child, there is nobody that will run away with you." some pitied her, and others laughed at her; but not one offered to give her any assistance. such, my little pupils, is the conduct of most people. when any misfortune brings you into trouble, you will find enough ready to pity you, but few who will give you any material assistance. they will tell you what you then know yourselves, that you should not have done so and so; they will be sorry for you, and then take their leave of you. little anabella, however, was soon relieved from her present terrible anxieties. a poor old woman, with eggs and butter in a basket, happened to be that day going to the same market, whither anabella's mother was gone before her. seeing anabella in so much distress, still crying as if her little heart would break, she went up to her, and asked her what was the cause of those tears that fell from her little cheeks: she told her she had lost her mamma. "and to what place, my dear," cried the old woman, "was your mamma going when you lost her?" "she was going to the market," replied anabella. "well, my sweet girl," continued the old woman, "i am going to the market too, and, if you will go along with me, i make no doubt but we shall find your mother there. however, i will take care of you till you do find her." she then took anabella by the hand, and led her along the road. the good old woman put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a piece of nice plum-cake, which she gave to anabella, who thankfully accepted of it; but her little heart was too full to permit her to think of eating at that time. she therefore put it into her pocket, saying that she would eat it by and by, when she had found her mamma, which she hoped would be soon. as they walked along, the good old woman endeavoured to amuse anabella by telling her pretty stories, and enquiring of her what books she read. "i very well know," said the old woman, "that you young children are too apt to be fond of histories of haunted houses, of witches, ghosts, and apparitions, which tend only to fill you with idle fears and apprehensions, and make you afraid even of your own shadows." but when anabella told her that her books were all bought at the corner of st. paul's church-yard, she seemed perfectly satisfied. they had hardly entered the market, when the little rambling eyes of anabella caught sight of her mamma. she shrieked with joy, and, like an arrow out of a bow, darted from the old woman, and flew to her parent, who clasped her pretty dear in her arms, and, after tenderly embracing her, "how came you," said she, "my sweet angel, to wander from me? i have been so frightened as to be hardly able to contain myself." anabella threw her arms round the neck of her mamma, and fixing her lips to her cheeks, kept kissing her, till a torrent of tears gave ease to her heart. as soon as she was able to speak, "my dear mamma," said she, "i stopped to look at a pretty little chaise drawn by six dogs, and in the mean time i lost you. i looked for you, and called for you, but i could neither see nor hear you. i sat down crying by the side of a bank; some as they passed pitied me, and others joked me; but none attempted to take care of me, till this good old woman led me by the hand, and brought me here." anabella's mother was very thankful to the good old woman for her tenderness and humanity to her daughter; and not only bought of her what eggs and butter she had left, but even made her a small present besides, which she a long time declined accepting of, saying she had done no more than what every good christian ought to do. anabella kissed the good old woman over and over again, and all her way home talked of nothing but her kindness. nor did she afterwards forget it, as she would frequently go and pay her a visit, when she always took with her some tea and sugar, and a loaf of bread. anabella's mother constantly bought all the eggs and butter the good old woman had to spare, and paid her a better price for them than she could have got at market, saving her, at the same time, the trouble of going thither. thus you see, my young friends, what are the consequences of good nature and humanity. you must accustom yourselves early, not only to feel for the misfortunes of others, but to do every thing that lies in your power to assist them. whatever may be your condition in life at present, and however improbable it may be, that you may ever want, yet there are strange vicissitudes in this world, in which nothing can be said to be really certain and permanent. should any of my readers, like anabella, lose themselves, would they not be happy to meet with so good an old woman as she did? though your stations in life may place you above receiving any pecuniary reward for a generous action, yet the pleasing sensations of a good heart, on relieving a distressed fellow-creature, are inexpressible. [illustration] the absurdity of young people's wishes exposed. [illustration] the present moment of enjoyment is all young people think of. so long as master tommy partook of the pleasure of sliding on the ice, and making snow up in various shapes, he wished it always to be winter, totally regardless of either spring, summer, or autumn. his father hearing him one day make that wish, desired him to write it down in the first leaf of his pocket-book; which tommy accordingly did, though his hand shivered with cold. the winter glided away imperceptibly, and the spring followed in due time. tommy now walked in the garden with his father, and with admiration beheld the rising beauty of the various spring flowers. their perfume afforded him the highest delight, and their brilliant appearance attracted all his attention. "oh!" said master tommy, "that it were always spring!" his father desired him to write that wish also in his pocket-book. the trees, which lately were only budding, were now grown into full leaf, the sure sign that spring was departing, and summer hastening on apace. tommy one day, accompanied by his parents, and two or three of his select acquaintance, went on a visit to a neighbouring village. their walk was delightful, afforded them a prospect sometimes of corn, yet green, waving smoothly, like a sea unruffled with the breeze, and sometimes of meadows enamelled with a profusion of various flowers. the innocent lambs skipped and danced about, and the colts and fillies pranced around their dams. but what was still more pleasing, this season produced for tommy and his companions a delicious feast of cherries, strawberries, and a variety of other fruits. so pleasant a day afforded them the summit of delight, and their little hearts danced in their bosoms with joy. "do you not think, tommy," said his father to him, "that summer has its delights as well as winter and spring?" tommy replied, he wished it might be summer all the year; when his father desired him to enter that wish in his pocket-book also. the autumn at length arrived, and all the family went into the country to view the harvest. it happened to be one of those days that are free from clouds, and yet a gentle westerly wind kept the air cool and refreshing. the gardens and orchards were loaded with fruits, and the fine plums, pears, and apples, which hung on the trees almost to the ground, furnished the little visitors with no small amusement and delight. there were also plenty of grapes, apricots, and peaches, which were the sweeter, as they had the pleasure of gathering them. "this season of rich abundance, tommy," said his father to him, "will soon pass away, and stern and cold winter will succeed it." tommy again wished that the present happy season would always continue, and that the winter would not be too hasty in its approaches, but leave him in possession of autumn. tommy's father desired him to write this in his book also, and, ordering him to read what he had written, soon convinced him how contradictory his wishes had been. in the winter, he wished it to be always winter; in the spring, he wished for a continuance of that season; in the summer, he wished it never to depart; and when autumn came, it afforded him too many delicious fruits to permit him to have a single wish for the approach of winter. "my dear tommy," said his father to him, "i am not displeased with you for enjoying the present moment, and thinking it the best that can happen to you; but you see how necessary it is that our wishes should not always be complied with. god knows how to govern this world much better than any human being can pretend to. had you last winter been indulged in your wish, we should have had neither spring, summer, nor autumn; the earth would have been perpetually covered with snow. the beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air, would either have been starved or frozen to death; and even the pleasures of sliding, or making images of snow, would have soon become tiresome to you. it is a happiness that we have it not in our power to regulate the course of nature: the wise and unerring designs of providence, in favour of mankind, would then, most probably, be perverted to their own inevitable ruin." [illustration] louisa's tenderness to the little birds in winter. [illustration] however long the winter may appear, the spring will naturally succeed it. a gentle breeze began to warm the air, the snow gradually vanished, the fields put on their enamelled livery, the flowers shot forth their buds, and the birds began to send forth their harmony from every bough. little louisa and her father left the city, to partake of the pleasures of the country.--scarcely had the blackbird and the thrush begun their early whistle to welcome louisa, than the weather changed all on a sudden; the north wind roared horribly in the grove, and the snow fell in such abundance, that every thing appeared in a silver-white mantle. though the little maid went to bed shivering with cold, and much disappointed in her expectations, yet she thanked god for having given her so comfortable a shelter from the inclemency of the elements. such a quantity of snow had fallen during the night, that the roads were almost impassable in the morning, which was a matter of great affliction to poor louisa; but she observed, that the birds were as dull as herself upon the occasion. every tree and hedge being so covered with snow, that the poor birds could get nothing to eat; not so much as a grain of corn or worm to be found. the feathered inhabitants now forsook the woods and groves, and fled into the neighbourhood of inhabited towns and villages, to seek that relief from man, which nature alone would not then afford them. incredibly numerous were the flight of sparrows, robins, and other birds, that were seen in the streets and courtyards, where their little beaks and claws were employed in turning over whatever they thought could afford them a single grain. a large company of these feathered refugees alighted in the yard belonging to the house in which little louisa and her father then were. the distress of the poor birds seemed to afflict the tender-hearted maid very much, which her father perceived as soon as she entered his chamber. "what is it makes you look so pensive now," said her father, "since it is but a few minutes ago when you were so remarkably cheerful?"--"o my dear papa!" said louisa, "all those sweet birds, that sung so charmingly but a day or two ago, are now come into the yard starving with hunger. do, pray, let me give them a little corn!" her papa very readily granted her so reasonable a request, and away she ran, accompanied by her governess, to the barn on the other side of the yard, which had that morning been cleanly swept. here she got a handful or two of corn, which she immediately scattered in different parts of the yard. the poor little birds fluttered around her, and soon picked up what the bounty of her generous hand had bestowed on them. it is impossible to describe the pleasure and satisfaction expressed in the countenance of louisa, on seeing herself the cause of giving so much joy to those little animals. as soon as the birds had picked up all the grains, they flew to the house-top, and seemed to look down on louisa as if they would say, "cannot you give us a little more?" she understood their meaning, and away she flew again to the barn, and down they all came to partake of her new bounty; while louisa called to her papa and mamma to come and enjoy with her the pleasing sight. in the mean time, a little boy came into the yard, whose heart was not of so tender a nature as louisa's. he held in his hand a cage full of birds, but carried it so carelessly, that it was evident he cared very little for his poor prisoners. louisa, who could not bear to see the pretty little creatures used so roughly, asked the boy what he was going to do with those birds. the boy replied, that he would sell them if he could; but, if he could not, his cat should have a dainty meal of them, and they would not be the first she had munched alive. "o fie," said louisa, "give them to your cat! what, suffer such innocent things as those to be killed by the merciless talons of a cat?"--"even so," said the boy, and giving the cage a careless swing, that tumbled the poor birds one over another, off he was setting, when louisa called him back, and asked him what he would have for his birds. "i will sell them," said he, "three for a penny, and there are eighteen of them." louisa struck the bargain, and ran to beg the money of her papa, who not only cheerfully gave her the money, but allowed her an empty room for the reception of her little captives. the boy, having thus found so good a market for his birds, told all his companions of it; so that, in a few hours, louisa's yard was so filled with little bird-merchants, that you would have supposed it to be a bird-market. however, the pretty maiden purchased all they brought, and had them turned into the same room, with those of her former purchase. when night came, louisa went to bed with more pleasure than she had felt for a long time. "what a pleasing reflection it is," said she to herself, "to be thus capable of preserving the lives of so many innocent birds, and save them from famine and merciless cats!--when summer comes, and i go into the woods and groves, these pretty birds will fly round me, and sing their sweetest notes, in gratitude for my kind attention to them."--these thoughts at last lulled her to sleep, but they accompanied her even in her dreams; for she fancied herself in one of the most delightful groves she had ever seen, where all the little birds were busied, either in feeding their young, or in singing, and in hopping from bough to bough. the first thing louisa did, after she had got up in the morning, was to go and feed her little family in the room, and also those that came into the yard. though the seed to feed them cost her nothing, yet she recollected that the many purchases she had lately made of birds must have almost exhausted her purse; "and if the frost should continue," said she to herself, "what will become of those poor birds that i shall not be able to purchase! those naughty boys will either give them to their cats, or suffer them to die with hunger." while she was giving way to these sorrowful reflections, her hand was moving gently into her pocket, in order to bring out her exhausted purse; but, judge what must be her surprise and astonishment, when, instead of pulling out an empty purse, she found it brimful of money! she ran immediately to her papa, to tell him of this strange circumstance, when he snatched her up in his arms, tenderly embraced her, and shed tears of joy on her blooming cheeks. "my dear child," said her papa to her, "you cannot conceive how happy you now make me! let these little birds continue to be the objects of your relief, and, be assured, your purse shall never be reduced to emptiness." this pleasing news gladdened the little heart of louisa, and she ran immediately to fill her apron with seed, and then hastened to feed her feathered guests. the birds came fluttering round her, and seemed conscious of her bounty and generosity. after feeding these happy prisoners, she went down into the yard, and there distributed a plentiful meal to the starving wanderers without. what an important trust had she now taken on herself!--nothing less than the support of a hundred dependants within doors, and a still greater number without! no wonder that her dolls and other playthings should be now totally forgotten. as louisa was putting her hand into the seed-bag, to take out of it the afternoon food for her birds, she found a paper, on which were written these words: "the inhabitants of the air fly towards thee, o lord! and thou givest them their food; thou openest thy hand, and fillest all things living with plenteousness." as she saw her papa behind her, she turned round and said, "i am therefore now imitating god."--"yes, my sweet louisa," said her father, "in every good action we imitate our maker. when you shall be grown to maturity, you will then assist the necessitous part of the human race, as you now do the birds; and the more good you do, the nearer you will approach the perfections of god." louisa continued her attention to feed her hungry birds for more than a week, when the snow began to melt, and the fields by degrees recovered their former verdure. the birds who had lately been afraid to quit the warm shelter of the houses, now returned to the woods and groves. the birds in our little louisa's aviary were confined, and therefore could not get away; but they showed their inclination to depart, by flying against the windows, and pecking the glass with their bills. these birds, perhaps, were industrious, and wished not to be troublesome to louisa, since they could not procure their own living. louisa, not being able to comprehend what could make them so uneasy, asked her papa if he could tell the cause of it "i know not, my dear," said her papa; "but it is possible these little birds may have left some companions in the fields, which they now wish to see."--"you are very right, papa," replied louisa, "and they shall have their liberty immediately." she accordingly opened the window, and all the birds flew out of it. these little feathered animals had no sooner obtained their liberty, than some were seen hopping on the ground, others darting into the air, or sporting in the trees, from twig to twig, and some flying about the windows, chirping, as though out of gratitude to their benefactor. louisa hardly ever went into the fields, but she fancied that some of her little family seemed to welcome her approach, either by hopping before her, or entertaining her with their melodious notes, which afforded her a source of inexhaustible pleasure. [illustration] the story of bertrand, a poor labourer, and his little family. [illustration] think yourselves happy, my little readers, since none of you perhaps know what it is to endure hunger day after day, without being able to enjoy one plentiful meal. confident i am, that the following relation will not fail to make an impression on your tender years. bertrand was a poor labourer, who had six young children, whom he maintained with the utmost difficulty. to add to his distresses, an unfavourable season much increased the price of bread. this honest labourer worked day and night to procure subsistence for his family, and though their food was composed of the coarsest kind, yet even of that he could not procure a sufficiency. finding himself reduced to extremity, he one day called his little family together, and with tears in his eyes, and a heart overflowing with grief, "my sweet children," said he to them, "bread is now so extravagantly dear, that i find all my efforts to support you ineffectual. my whole day's labour is barely sufficient to purchase this piece of bread which you see in my hand; it must therefore be divided among you, and you must be contented with the little my labour can procure you. though it will not afford each of you a plentiful meal, yet it will be sufficient to keep you from perishing with hunger." sorrow and tears interrupted his words, and he could say no more, but lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven. his children wept in silence, and, young as they were, their little hearts seemed to feel more for their father than for themselves. bertrand then divided the small portion of bread into seven equal shares, one of which he kept for himself, and gave to the rest each their lot. but one of them, named harry, refused his share, telling his father he could not eat, pretending to be sick. "what is the matter with you, my dear child?" said his father, taking him up in his arms. "i am very sick," replied harry, "very sick indeed, and should be glad to go to sleep." bertrand then carried him to bed, and gave him a tender kiss, wishing him a good night. the next morning the honest labourer, overwhelmed with sorrow, went to a neighbouring physician, and begged of him, as a charity, to come and see his poor boy. though the physician was sure of never being paid for his visit, yet such were his humanity and feelings, that he instantly went to the labourer's house. on his arrival there, he found no particular symptoms of illness, though the boy was evidently in a very low and languishing state. the doctor told him he would send him a cordial draught; but harry begged he would forbear sending him any thing, as he could do him no good. the doctor was a little angry at this behaviour, and insisted on knowing what his disorder was, threatening him, if he did not tell him immediately, he would go and acquaint his father with his obstinacy. poor harry begged the doctor would say nothing about it to his father, which still more increased the doctor's wish to get at the bottom of this mystery. at last poor harry, finding the doctor resolute, desired his brothers and sisters might leave the room, and he would acquaint him with every particular. as soon as the physician had sent the children out of the room, "alas! sir," said little harry, "in this season of scarcity, my poor dear father cannot earn bread enough to feed us. what little quantity he can get, he divides equally among us, reserving to himself the smallest part. to see my dear brothers and sisters suffer hunger is more than i can bear; and, as i am the eldest, and stronger than they, i have therefore not eaten any myself, but have divided my share among them. it is on this account that i pretended to be sick and unable to eat; i beseech you, however, to keep this a secret from my father." the physician, wiping away a tear which started involuntarily from his eye, asked poor harry if he were not then hungry. he acknowledged indeed that he was hungry; but said that did not give him so much affliction as to see the distresses of his family. "but my good lad," said the doctor, "if you do not take some nourishment, you will die."--"i am indifferent about that," replied harry, "since my father will have then one mouth less to feed, and i shall go to heaven, where i will pray to god to assist my dear father, and my little sisters and brothers." what heart but must melt with pity and admiration at the relation of such facts? the generous physician, taking up harry in his arms, and clasping him to his bosom, "no, my dear little boy," said he, "thou shalt not die. god and i will take care of thy little family; and return thanks to god for having sent me hither. i must leave you for the present, but i will soon return." the good physician hastened home, and ordered one of his servants to load himself with refreshments of every kind. he then hastened to the relief of poor harry and his starving brothers and sisters. he made them all sit down at the table, and eat till they were perfectly satisfied. what could be a more pleasing scene, than that which the good physician then beheld, six pretty little innocent creatures smiling over the bounty of their generous and humane friend? the doctor, on his departure, desired harry to be under no uneasiness, as he should take care to secure them a supply of whatever might be wanting. he faithfully performed his promise, and they had daily cause of rejoicing at his bounty and benevolence. the doctor's generosity was imitated by every good person, to whom he related the affecting scene. from some they received provisions, from some money, and from others clothes and linen. so that, in a short time, this little family, which was but lately in want of every thing, became possessed of plenty. bertrand's landlord, who was a gentleman of considerable fortune, was so struck with the tender generosity of little harry that he sent for his father, and paying him many compliments on his happiness of having such a son, he offered to take harry under his own inspection, and bring him up in his own house. this matter being agreed on, bertrand's landlord settled an annuity on him, promising, at the same time, to provide for his other children as they grew up. bertrand, transported with joy, returned to his house, and falling on his knees, offered up his most grateful thanks to that good god, who had graciously condescended to bestow on him such a son! hence you may learn, my young readers, how much you have it in your power to prove a blessing to your parents, and a comfort to yourselves. it is not necessary, that, in order to do so, you should be reduced to the same necessity that poor harry was: for, however exalted your station may be, you will always find opportunities enough to give proofs of your duty to your parents, your affection for your brothers and sisters, and your humanity and benevolence to the poor and needy. happy indeed are those poor children, who have found a friend and protector when they were needful and helpless; but much happier those who, without ever feeling the griping hand of penury and want themselves, have received the inexpressible delight that never fails to arise from the pleasing reflection of having raised honest poverty to happiness and plenty. [illustration] nancy and her canary bird, poor cherry. [illustration] as nancy was one day looking out of her window, a man happened to come by, crying, "canary-birds; come, buy my canary-birds." the man had a large cage upon his head, in which the birds hopped about from perch to perch, and made nancy quite in love with them. "will you buy a pretty bird or two, miss?" said the man. "i have no objection," replied the little maid, "provided my papa will give me leave. if you will stop a little while, i will soon let you know." so away ran nancy down stairs to her papa, while the birdman put down his cage at the door. nancy ran into her papa's chamber quite out of breath, crying, "o dear papa, only come here! here is a man in the street that has a large cage on his head, with, i dare say, a hundred canary-birds in it."--"well, and what of all that?" replied her papa; "why does that seem to rejoice you so much?" nancy answering, that she should be happy to buy one of them; her papa reminded her, that the bird must be fed, and should it be neglected, even only for a day, it would certainly die. nancy promised that she would never eat her own breakfast till she had given her bird his; but her papa reminded her that she was a giddy girl, and that he feared she had promised too much. however, there was no getting over her coaxings and wheedlings, so that her papa was at last obliged to consent that she should buy one. he then took nancy by the hand, and led her to the door, where the man was waiting with his birds. he chose the prettiest canary-bird in it: it was a male, of a fine lively yellow colour, with a little black tuft upon his head. nancy was now quite cheerful and happy, and pulling out her purse, gave it to her father to pay for the bird. but what was to be done with the bird without a cage, and nancy had not money enough? however, upon her promising that she would take great care to feed her bird, her papa bought her a fine new cage, of which he made her a present. as soon as nancy had given her canary-bird possession of his new palace, she ran about the house, calling her mamma, her brothers and sisters, and all the servants, to come and see her pretty canary-bird, to which she gave the name of poor cherry. when any of her little friends came to see her, the first thing she told them was, that she had one of the prettiest canary-birds in the world. "he is as yellow as gold," said she, "and he has a little black crest, like the plumes of my mamma's hat. come, you must go and see him! his name is cherry." cherry was as happy as any bird need wish to be, under the care of nancy. her first business every morning was to feed cherry: and whenever there was any cake at table, cherry was sure to come in for a share of it. there were always some bits of sugar in store for him, and his cage was constantly decorated with the most lively herbage. her pretty bird was not ungrateful, but did all in his power to make nancy sensible how much he was obliged to her. he soon learned to distinguish her, and the moment he heard her step into the room, he would flutter his wings, and keep up an incessant chirping. it is no wonder, therefore, if cherry and nancy became very fond of each other. at the expiration of a week he began to open his little throat, and sung the most delightful songs. he would sometimes raise his notes to so great a height, that you would almost think he must kill himself with such vast exertions. then, after stopping a little, he would begin again, with a tone so sweet and powerful, that he was heard in every part of the house. nancy would often sit for whole hours by his cage, listening to his melody. sometimes so attentively would she gaze at him, that she would insensibly let her work fall out of her hands; and after he had entertained her with his melodious notes, she would regale him with a tune on her bird organ, which he would endeavour to imitate. in length of time, however, these pleasures began to grow familiar to his friend nancy. her papa, one day, presented her with a book of prints, with which she was so much delighted, that cherry began to lose at least one half of her attention. as usual, he would chirp the moment he saw her, let her be at what distance she would; but nancy began to take no notice of him, and almost a week had passed, without his receiving either a bit of biscuit, or a fresh supply of chick-weed. he repeated the sweetest and most harmonious notes that nancy had taught him, but to no purpose. it now appeared too clearly, that new objects began to attract nancy's attention. her birth-day arrived, and her godfather gave her a large jointed doll, which she named columbine: and this said columbine proved a sad rival to cherry; for, from morning to night, the dressing and undressing of miss columbine engrossed the whole of her time. what with this and her carrying her doll up and down stairs, and into every room in the house, it was happy for poor cherry if he got fed by the evening, and sometimes it happened that he went a whole day without feeding. one day, however, when nancy's papa was at table, accidentally casting his eyes upon the cage, he saw poor cherry lying upon his breast, and panting, as it were, for life. the poor bird's feathers appeared all rough, and it seemed contracted into a mere lump. nancy's papa went up close to it; but it was unable even to chirp, and the poor little creature had hardly strength enough to breathe. he called to him his little nancy, and asked her what was the matter with her bird. nancy blushed, saying, in a low voice, "why, papa, i--somehow, i forgot;" and ran to fetch the seed-box. her papa, in the mean time, took down the cage, and found that poor cherry had not a single seed left, nor a drop of water. "alas! poor bird," said he, "you have got into careless hands. had i foreseen this, i would never have bought you." all the company joined in pity for the poor bird; and nancy ran away into her chamber to ease her heart in tears. however, her papa, with some difficulty, brought pretty cherry to himself again. her father, the next day, ordered cherry to be made a present of to a young gentleman in the neighbourhood, who, he said, would take much better care of it than his little thoughtless daughter; but poor nancy could not bear the idea of parting with her bird, and most faithfully promised never more to neglect him. her papa, at last, gave way to her entreaties; and permitted her to keep little cherry, but not without a severe reprimand, and a strict injunction to be more careful for the future. "this poor little creature," said her papa, "is confined in a prison, and is therefore totally unable to provide for its own wants. whenever you want any thing, you know how to get it; but this little bird can neither help himself, nor make his wants known to others. if ever you let him want seed or water again, look to it." nancy burst out into a flood of tears, took her papa by the hand, and kissed it; but her heart was so full, that she could not utter a syllable. cherry and nancy were now again good friends, and he for some time wanted for nothing. about a month afterwards, her father and mother were obliged to go a little way into the country on some particular business; but, before they set out, he gave nancy strict charge to take care of poor cherry. no sooner were her parents gone, than she ran to the cage, and gave cherry plenty of seed and water. little nancy now finding herself alone and at liberty, sent for some of her companions to come and spend the day with her. the former part of the day they passed in the garden, and the latter in playing at blindman's buff and four corners. she went to bed very much fatigued; but, as soon as she awoke in the morning, she began to think of new pleasures. she went abroad that day, while poor cherry was obliged to stay at home and fast. the second and third day passed in the same playful manner as before; but no poor cherry was thought of. on the fourth day, her father and mother came home, and, as soon as they had kissed her, her father enquired after poor cherry. "he is very well," said nancy, a little confused, and then ran to fetch him some seed and water. alas! poor little cherry was no more; he was lying upon his back, with his wings spread, and his beak open. nancy screamed out, and wrung her hands, when all the family ran to her, and were witnesses of the melancholy scene. "alas! poor bird," said her papa, "what a melancholy end thou hast come to! if i had twisted thy head off the day i went into the country, it would have caused you but a moment's pain; but now you have endured all the pangs of hunger and thirst, and expired in extreme agony. however, poor cherry! you are happy in being out of the hands of so merciless a guardian." nancy was so shocked and distressed on the occasion, that she would have given all her little treasure, and even all her playthings, to have brought cherry to life; but it was now too late. her papa had the bird stuffed, and hung up to the ceiling, in memory of nancy's carelessness. she dared not even to lift her eyes up to look at it, for, whenever she did, it was sure to make her cry. at last she prevailed on her papa to have it removed, but not till after many earnest entreaties and repeated acknowledgments of the fault she had been guilty of. whenever nancy was guilty of inattention, or giddiness, the bird was hung up again in its place, and every one would say in her hearing, "alas, poor cherry! what a cruel death you suffered!" thus you see, my little friends, what are the sad consequences of inattention, giddiness, and too great a fondness for pleasure, which always make us forgetful of what we ought carefully to attend to. [illustration] the birds, the thorn-bushes, and the sheep. [illustration] mr. stanhope and his son gregory were one evening, in the month of may, sitting at the foot of a delightful hill, and surveying the beautiful works of nature that surrounded them. the declining sun, now sinking into the west, seemed to clothe every thing with a purple robe. the cheerful song of a shepherd called off their attention from their meditations on those delightful prospects. this shepherd was driving home his flocks from the adjacent fields. thorn-bushes grew on each side of the road, and every sheep that approached the thorns was sure to be robbed of some part of its wool, which a good deal displeased little gregory. "only see, papa," said he, "how the sheep are deprived of their wool by those bushes! you have often told me, that god makes nothing in vain; but these briars seem only made for mischief; people should therefore join to destroy them root and branch. were the poor sheep to come often this way, they would be robbed of all their clothing. but that shall not be the case, for i will rise with the sun to-morrow morning, and with my little bill-hook and snip-snap, i will level all these briars with the ground. you may come with me, papa, if you please, and bring with you an axe. before breakfast, we shall be able to destroy them all." mr. stanhope replied, "we must not go about this business in too great a hurry, but take a little time to consider of it; perhaps, there may not be so much cause for being angry with these bushes, as you at present seem to imagine. have you not seen the shepherds about lammas, with great shears in their hands, take from the trembling sheep all their wool, not being contented with a few locks only." gregory allowed that was true; but they did it in order to make clothes, whereas the hedges robbed the sheep without having the least occasion for their wool, and evidently for no useful purpose. "if it be usual," said he, "for sheep to lose their clothing at a certain time of the year, then it is much better to take it for our own advantage, than to suffer the hedges to pull it off for no end whatever." mr. stanhope allowed the arguments of little gregory to be just; for nature has given to every beast a clothing, and we are obliged from them to borrow our own, otherwise we should be forced to go naked, and exposed to the inclemency of the elements. "very well, papa," said gregory, "though we want clothing, yet these bushes want none: they rob us of what we have need, and therefore down they shall all come with to-morrow morning's rising sun. and i dare say, papa, you will come along with me, and assist me." mr. stanhope could not but consent; and little gregory thought himself nothing less than alexander, merely from the expectation of destroying at once this formidable band of robbers. he could hardly sleep, being so much taken up with the idea of his victories, to which the next morning's sun was to be witness. the cheerful lark had hardly begun to proclaim the approach of morning, when gregory got up, and ran to awaken his papa. mr. stanhope, though he was very indifferent concerning the fate of the thorn-bushes, yet he was not displeased with having the opportunity of showing to his little gregory the beauties of the rising sun. they both dressed themselves immediately, took the necessary instruments, and set out on this important expedition. young gregory marched forwards with such hasty steps, that mr. stanhope was obliged to exert himself, to avoid being left behind. when they came near the bushes, they observed a multitude of little birds flying in and out of them, and fluttering their wings from branch to branch. on seeing this, mr. stanhope stopped his son, and desired him to suspend his vengeance a little time, that they might not disturb those innocent birds. with this view, they retired to the foot of the hill where they had sat the preceding evening, and from thence examined more particularly what had occasioned this apparent bustle among the birds. from hence they plainly saw, that they were employed in carrying away those bits of wool in their beaks, which the bushes had torn from the sheep the evening before. there came a multitude of different sorts of birds, who loaded themselves with the plunder. gregory was quite astonished at this sight, and asked his papa what could be the meaning of it. "you by this plainly see," replied mr. stanhope, "that providence provides for creatures of every class, and furnishes them with all things necessary for their convenience and preservation. here, you see, the poor birds find what is necessary for their habitations, wherein they are to nurse and rear their young, and with this they make a comfortable bed for themselves and their little progeny. the innocent thorn-bush, against which you yesterday so loudly exclaimed, is of infinite service to the inhabitants of the air; it takes from those that are rich only what they can very well spare, in order to satisfy the wants of the poor. have you now any wish to cut those bushes down, which you will perhaps no longer consider as robbers?" gregory shook his head, and said he would not cut the bushes down for the world. mr. stanhope applauded his son for so saying; and, after enjoying the sweets of the morning, they retired home to breakfast, leaving the bushes to flourish in peace, since they made so generous a use of their conquests. my young friends will hence be convinced of the impropriety of cherishing too hastily prejudices against any persons or things, since, however forbidding or useless they may at first sight appear, a more familiar acquaintance with them may discover those accomplishments or perfections which prejudice at first obscured from their observation. [illustration] poor crazy samuel, and the mischievous boys. [illustration] in the city of bristol lived a crazy person, whose name was samuel. whenever he went out he always put four or five wigs on his head at once, and as many muffs upon each of his arms. though he had unfortunately lost his senses, yet he was not mischievous, unless wicked boys played tricks with him, and put him in a passion. whenever he appeared in the streets, all the idle boys would surround him, crying, "samuel! samuel! how do you sell your wigs and your muffs?" some idle boys were of such mischievous dispositions as to throw dirt and stones at him. though the unfortunate man generally bore all this treatment very quietly, yet he would sometimes turn about in his own defence, and throw among the rabble that followed him any thing that came in his way. a contest of this nature happened one day near the house of mr. denton, who, hearing a noise in the street, went to the window, and, with much regret, saw his son joseph concerned in the fray. displeased at the sight, he shut down the sash, and went into another room. when they were at dinner, mr. denton asked his son who the man was, with whom he and other boys in the street seemed to be so pleasingly engaged. joseph said it was the crazy man, whom they called samuel. on his father asking him what had occasioned that misfortune, he replied, that it was said to be in consequence of the loss of a law-suit, which deprived him of a large estate. "had this man been known to you," said mr. denton, "at the time when he was cheated of his estate; and had he told you that he had just lost a large inheritance, which he had long peaceably enjoyed; that all his property was expended in supporting the cause, and that he had now neither country nor town-house, in short, nothing upon earth left; would you then have laughed at this poor man?" joseph, with some confusion, replied he certainly should not be guilty of so wicked an action as to laugh at the misfortunes of any man; but should rather endeavour to comfort him. "this man," said mr. denton, "is more to be pitied now than he was then, since to the loss of his fortune is added that of his senses also; and yet you have this day been throwing stones at this poor man, and otherwise insulting him, who never gave you any cause." joseph seemed very sorry for what he had done, asked his papa's pardon, and promised not only never to do the like again, but to prevent others, as much as lay in his power, committing the same crime. his father told him, that as to his forgiveness, he freely had it, but that there was another besides him, whose forgiveness was more necessary. little joseph thought that his father meant poor samuel; but mr. denton explained the matter to him. "had samuel retained his senses," said he, "it would be certainly just that you should ask his pardon; but as his disordered mind will not permit him to receive any apologies, it would be idle to attempt to make any. it is not samuel, but god, whom you have offended. you have not shown compassion to poor samuel, but, by your unmerited insults, have added to his misfortunes. can you think that god will be pleased with such conduct?" joseph now plainly perceived whom he had offended, and therefore promised that night to ask pardon of god in his prayers. he kept his word, and not only forbore troubling samuel for several weeks afterwards, but endeavoured to dissuade all his companions from doing the like. the resolutions of young people, however, are not always to be depended on. so it happened with little joseph, who, forgetting the promises he had made, one day happened to mix with the rabble of boys who were following and hooting, and playing many naughty tricks with the unfortunate samuel. the more he mixed among them, the more he forgot himself, and at last became as bad as the worst of them. samuel's patience, however, being at length tired out by the rude behaviour of the wicked boys that pursued him, he suddenly turned about, and picking up a large stone, threw it at little joseph with such violence, that it grazed his cheek, and almost cut off part of his ear. poor joseph, on feeling the smart occasioned by the blow, and finding the blood trickling down his cheek at a great rate, ran home roaring most terribly. mr. denton, however, showed him no pity, telling him it was the just judgment of god for his wickedness. joseph attempted to justify himself by saying, that he was not the only one who was guilty, and therefore ought not to be the only one that was punished. his father replied, that, as he knew better than the other boys, his crime was the greater. it is indeed but justice that a child, who knows the commands of god and his parents, should be doubly punished, whenever he so far forgets his duty as to run headlong into wickedness. remember this, my young readers; and instead of adding to the afflictions of others, do whatever you can to alleviate them, and god will then undoubtedly have compassion on you, whenever your wants and distresses shall require his assistance. [illustration] bella and marian. [illustration] the sun was just peeping above the eastern edge of the horizon, to enliven with his golden rays one of the most beautiful mornings of the spring, when bella went down into the garden to taste with more pleasure, as she rambled through those enchanting walks, the delicacies of a rich cake, of which she intended to make her first meal. her heart swelled with delight, on surveying the beauties of the rising sun, in listening to the enlivening notes of the lark, and on breathing the pleasing fragrance which the surrounding shrubs afforded. bella was so charmed with this complication of delights, that her sweet eyes were bedewed with a moisture, which rested on her eyelids without dropping in tears. her heart felt a gentle sensation, and her mind was possessed with emotions of benevolence and tenderness. the sound of steps in the walk, however, all on a sudden interrupted these happy feelings, and a little girl came tripping towards the same walk, eating a piece of coarse brown bread with the keenest appetite. as she was also rambling about the garden for amusement, her eyes wandered here and there unfixed; so that she came up close to bella unexpectedly. as soon as the little girl saw it was miss bella, she stopped short, seemed confused, and, turning about, ran away as fast as she could; but bella called to her, and asked her why she ran away. this made the little girl run the faster, and bella endeavoured to pursue her; but, not being so much used to exercise, she was soon left behind. luckily, as it happened, the little stranger had turned up a path leading into that in which bella was. here they suddenly met, and bella caught her by the arm, saying, "come, i have you fast now; you are my prisoner, and cannot get away from me." the poor girl was now more frightened than ever, and struggled hard for her liberty; but, after some time, the sweet accents of bella, and her assurance that she meant only to be her friend, having rather allayed her fears, she became a little more tractable, and quietly followed her into one of the summer-houses. miss bella, having made the stranger sit down by her, asked her if she had a father living, and what was his profession. the girl told her, that, thank god, her father was living, and that he did any thing for an honest livelihood. she said he was then at work in the garden, and had brought her with him that morning. bella then observing that the young stranger had got a piece of brown bread in her hand, desired she would let her taste it; but she said it so scratched her throat on swallowing a bit of it, that she could eat no more; and asked the little girl, why her father did not get better bread for her. "because," replied the stranger, "he does not get so much money as your papa; and, besides that, there are four more of us, and we all eat heartily. sometimes one wants a frock, another a jacket, and all he can get is barely sufficient for us, without laying out hardly any thing upon himself, though he never misses a day's work while he has it to do." upon bella's asking her if she ever ate any plum-cake, she said she did not even know what it was; but she had no sooner put a bit into her mouth, which miss bella gave her, than she said, she had never in her life tasted any thing so nice. she then asked her what was her name, when the girl, rising, and making her a low curtsey, said it was marian. "well then, my good marian," said bella, "stop here a moment; i will go and ask my governess for something for you, and will come back directly: but be sure you do not go away." marian replied, that she was now noways afraid of her, and that she should certainly wait her coming back. bella ran directly to her governess, and begged she would give her some currant jelly for a little girl, who had nothing but dry bread for breakfast. the governess, being highly pleased with the good-nature of her amiable pupil, gave her some in a cup, and a small roll also. bella instantly ran away with it, and coming to marian, said she hoped she had not made her wait, but begged her to put down her brown bread till another time, and eat what she had brought her. marian, after tasting the jelly, and smacking her lips, said it was very nice indeed; and asked bella if she ate such every day. miss replied, that she ate those things frequently, and if she would come now and then, she would always give her some. they now became very familiar together, and miss bella asked marian a number of questions, such as, whether she never was sick, seeing her now look so hearty, and in what manner she employed her time. marian replied, she did not know what it was to be sick; and, as to her employments, in winter she went to get straw for the cow, and dry sticks to make the pot boil; in summer she went to weed the corn; and, in harvest-time, to glean and pull hops. in short, they were never at a loss for work; and she said her mother would make a sad noise, if any of her little ones should take it into their heads to be lazy. miss bella, observing that her little visitor went barefooted, which much surprised her, was induced to ask the reason of it; when marian replied, that it would be too expensive for their father to think of finding shoes and stockings for them all, and therefore none of them had any; but they found no inconvenience from it, since time had so hardened the bottoms of their feet, as to make shoes unnecessary. the time having slipped away in this kind of chit-chat, marian told miss bella that she must be going, in order to gather some greens for her cow, who would want her breakfast by eight o'clock. this little girl did not eat up all her roll and jelly, but saved some part of it to carry home to her youngest sister, who, she said, she was sure would be very fond of it. bella was vastly pleased to find marian was so tender of her sister, and desired she would not fail to come again at the same hour the next morning. so, after a mutual good b'ye, they separated for the present. miss bella had now, for the first time, tasted the pleasure of doing good. she walked a little longer in the garden, enjoying the pleasing reflection how happy she had made marian, how grateful that little girl had showed herself, and how pleased her sister would be to taste currant jelly, which she had never seen before. miss bella was enjoying the idea of the pleasure she should receive from her future bounties to her new acquaintance, when she recollected that she had some ribands and a necklace, which her mamma had given her a little time before, but of which she now began to grow tired. besides these, she had some other old things to give her, which, though of no use to herself, would make marian quite fine. the next morning marian came into the garden again, and miss bella was ready to receive her, with a tolerable good portion of gingerbread. indeed, this interview was continued every morning; and miss bella always carried some dainties along with her. when her pocket failed her, she would beg her mamma to supply her with something out of the pantry, which was always cheerfully complied with. one day, however, it happened that bella received an answer which gave her some uneasiness. she had been begging her mamma to advance her something on her weekly allowance, in order to buy shoes and stockings for marian; to which her mamma gave her a flat denial, telling her, that she wished she would be a little more sparing to her favourite, for which she would give her a reason at dinner-time. bella was a little surprised at this answer, and every hour appeared an age till dinner-time arrived. at length they sat down to table, and dinner was half over before her mamma said a word about marian; but a dish of shrimps being then served up, gave her mamma an opportunity of beginning the conversation. "i think, bella," said the lady, "this is your favourite dish." bella replied it was, and could not help observing, how happy she supposed poor marian would be to taste them, who she imagined had never so much as seen any. with her mamma's leave, she begged two of the smallest, to give to that little girl. mrs. adams, for such was her mamma's name, seemed unwilling to grant her request, urging, that she was afraid she would do her favourite more mischief than good. "at present," said her mamma, "she eats her dry brown bread with an appetite, and walks barefooted on the gravel without complaining. should you continue to feed her with dainties, and accustom her to wear shoes and stockings, what would she do, should she by any means lose your favour, and with it all those indulgences? she will then lament that she had ever experienced your bounty." miss bella hastily replied, that she meant to be a friend to her all her life, and only wished that her mamma, in order to enable her to do so, would add a little to her weekly allowance, and she would manage it with all the frugality possible. mrs. adams then asked her daughter, if she did not know of any other children in distress; to which bella replied, that she knew several besides, and particularly two in a neighbouring village, who had neither father nor mother, and who, without doubt, stood much in need of assistance. her mamma then reminded her, that it was somewhat uncharitable to feed marian with sweetmeats and dainties, while other poor children were starving with hunger. to this bella replied, that she hoped she should have something to spare for them likewise: but, at all events, she loved marian best. however, her mamma advised her to give her sweet things seldomer, and instead thereof something that would be of more use to her, such as an apron or a gown. miss bella immediately proposed to give her one of her frocks; but her mamma soon made her sensible of the impropriety of dressing up a village girl, without shoes or stockings, in a muslin slip. "were i in your place," said her mamma, "i would be sparing in my amusements for some time, and when i had saved a little money, i would lay it out in buying whatever was most necessary for her. the stuffs that poor children wear are not very expensive." bella followed mamma's advice. marian was not, indeed, so punctual in her morning visits; but bella made her presents that were far more useful than sweetmeats. miss bella, besides frequently giving marian an apron, a petticoat, or such like, paid a certain sum every month to the schoolmaster of the village, to improve her in reading. marian was so sensible of these kindnesses, that she grew every day more tenderly fond of her kind benefactress. she frequently paid her a visit, and was never so happy as when she could do any little matters to oblige her. marian came one day to the garden gate to wait for bella's coming down to her; but she did not come, and she was obliged to go back again without seeing her. she returned two days successively, but no bella appeared, which was a great affliction to her little heart, and she began to fear she had inadvertently offended her. "i have, perhaps," said she to herself, "done something to vex her: i am sure, if i knew i had, i would ask her a thousand pardons, for i cannot live without loving her." while she was thus reflecting, one of mrs. adams's maids came out of the house; when poor marian stopped her, and asked her where miss bella was. "miss bella!" replied the woman, "she is ill of the small-pox; so ill, indeed, that there are no hopes of her recovery!" poor marian was all distraction, and, without considering what she did, flew up stairs and burst into mrs. adams's room, imploring, on her knees, that she might be permitted to see her dear miss bella. mrs. adams would have stopped marian; but the door being half open, she flew to her bedside like an arrow out of a bow. poor bella was in a violent fever, alone, and very low spirited; for all her little companions had forsaken her. marian, drowned in tears, seized hold of bella's hand, squeezed it in hers, and kissed it. "ah! my dear miss," said she "is it in this condition i find you! but you must not die; what would then become of me? i will watch over you, and serve you: shall i, my dear miss bella?" miss bella, squeezing marian's hand, signified to her, that staying with her would do her a great favour. and the little maid, with mrs. adams's consent, became bella's nurse, which she performed the part of to admiration. she had a small bed made up for her, close beside her little sick friend, whom she never left for a moment. if the slightest sigh escaped bella, marian was up in an instant to know what she wanted, and gave her, with her own hands, all her medicines. this grateful girl did every thing she could to amuse her friend. she ransacked mrs. adams's library for books that had pictures in them, which she would show to bella; and during the time that her eyes were darkened by her disorder, which was for near a week, marian exerted herself to the utmost to divert her. when bella grew impatient at the want of sight, marian told her stories of what happened in the village; and as she had made a good use of her schoolmaster's instructions, she read whatever she thought would be amusing and diverting to her. thus marian was not only her nurse, but philosopher also; for she would sometimes say to her, "god almighty will have pity upon you, as you have had pity on me. will you let me sing a pretty song to divert you?" bella had only to make a sign, and the little maid would sing her every song she had learnt from the village nymphs and swains, endeavouring by this means to soften the affliction of her generous friend. at length she began to open her eyes, her lowness of spirits left her, the pock dried up, and her appetite returned. her face was still covered with red spots; but marian looked at her with more pleasure than ever, from the consideration of the danger she had been in of losing her; while the grateful bella, on the other hand, regarded her with equal tenderness. "in what manner," she would sometimes say, "can i think of requiting you, to my own satisfaction, for the tender care you have taken of me?" miss bella, as soon as she found herself perfectly recovered, asked her mamma in what manner she could recompense her faithful and tender nurse; but mrs. adams, whose joy on the recovery of her daughter was inexpressible, desired bella to leave that matter to her, as she likewise was equally in her debt. mrs. adams gave private orders to have a complete suit of clothes made for marian; and bella desired that she might have the pleasure of dressing her the first time she was permitted to go into the garden. the day arrived, and it was indeed a day of rejoicing throughout the whole family: for bella was beloved by all the servants, as well as by all her acquaintance. this was a joyful day to miss bella, who had the double satisfaction of seeing her health restored, and of beholding her little friend dressed out in her new clothes! it is much easier to conceive than to express the emotions of these two tender hearts, when they again found themselves in the garden, on the very spot where their acquaintance first commenced. they tenderly embraced each other, and vowed an inseparable friendship. it is evidently clear, from the story of bella and marian, how advantageous it is to be generous and humane. had not bella, by her kindness, attached marian to her interest, she might have sunk under the severe indisposition, from which the kind attentions and the unremitting assiduities of marian were perhaps the chief means of restoring her. [illustration] little jack. [illustration] one day, as mr. glover was returning home after taking a ride over his estates, and passing by the wall of a burying-ground belonging to a small village, he heard the sound of groans and lamentations. as he had a heart that was ever open to the distresses of others, he alighted from his horse to see from whence the voice proceeded, and got over the inclosure. on his entering the place, he perceived a grave fresh filled up, upon which, at full length, lay a child about five years old, who was crying sadly. mr. glover went up to him, and tenderly asked him what he did there. "i am calling my mother," said he; "they laid her here yesterday, and she does not get up!" mr. glover then told him, that his poor mother was dead, and would get up no more. "i know," replied the poor child, "that they tell me she is dead, but i do not believe it. she was perfectly well when she left me the other day with old susan our neighbour; she told me she would soon come back, but she has not kept her word. my father has gone away too, and also my little brother; and the other boys of the village will not play with me, but say very naughty things about my father and mother, which vexes me more than all. o mammy, get up, get up!" mr. glover's eyes were filled with tears; he asked him where his father and brother were gone to. he replied, that he did not know where his father was; and as to his little brother, he was the day before taken to another town, by a person dressed in black just like their parson. mr. glover then asked him where he lived. "with our neighbour susan," said he. "i am to be there till my mother comes back, as she promised me. i love my other mammy susan very well; but i love my mammy that lies here a great deal better. o mother! mother! why do you lie so long? when will you get up?" "my poor child," said mr. glover, "it is in vain to call her, for she will awake no more!"--"then," said the poor little boy, "i will lie down here, and sleep by her. ah! i saw her when they put her into a great chest to carry her away. oh, how white she was! and how cold! i will lie down here and sleep by her!" the tears now started from the eyes of mr. glover, for he could no longer conceal them, but stooping down, took the child up in his arms, and tenderly kissed him, asking him what was his name. "when i am a good boy, they call me jackey; and when i behave amiss, they say, you jack." mr. glover, though in tears, could not help smiling at the innocence and simplicity of this answer, and begged jackey to conduct him to the house of the good susan. the child very readily consented, and, running before him as fast as his legs would carry him, conducted mr. glover to susan's door. susan was not a little surprised, on seeing jack conduct a gentleman into her cottage, and then running to her, hid his little head in her lap, crying, "this is she! this is my other mammy!" mr. glover, however, did not keep her long in suspense, but related to her what he had just seen, and begged susan to give him the history of the parents of this little boy.--susan desired the gentleman to be seated, and then related to him the following particulars: "the father of this poor child is a shoemaker, and his house is next to mine. his wife, though a handsome, was not a healthy woman; but she was a careful and good housewife. it is about seven years since they were married, always lived together on the best terms, and undoubtedly would have been perfectly happy, had their affairs been a little better. "john had nothing beyond what his trade produced him; and margaret, his wife, being left an orphan, had only a little money which she had scraped together in the service of a worthy neighbouring curate. with this they bought the most necessary articles of household furniture, and a small stock of leather to begin business with. however, by dint of labour and good management, they for some years contrived to live a little comfortably. "as children increased, so did their difficulties, and misfortunes seldom come alone. poor margaret, who had daily worked in the fields during hay-time, to bring home a little money to her husband at night, fell ill, and continued so all the harvest and winter. john's customers left him one after another, fearing that work could not go on properly in a sick house. "though margaret at last grew better, yet her husband's work continued to decline, and he was obliged to borrow money to pay the apothecary; while poor margaret continued so weakly that nobody thought it worth their while to employ her. the rent of their house and the interest of the money they had borrowed were heavy loads upon them; and they were frequently obliged to endure hunger themselves, in order to give a morsel of bread to their poor children. "to add to their misfortune, the hardhearted landlord threatened to put poor john in jail, if he did not pay the two quarters' rent that were due; and though he is the richest man in the place, it was with the greatest difficulty that they could obtain a month's delay. he declared if they did not at the end of that time pay the whole, he would sell their furniture, and put john in prison. their house was now a picture of melancholy and patient distress. how often have i lamented my inability to assist the distresses of this honest couple! "i went myself to their landlord, and begged of him, for god's sake, to have some compassion on these unfortunate people, and even offered to pawn to him all i was possessed of in the world; but he treated me with contempt, and told me i was as bad as they were. i was obliged, however, being only a poor widow, to bear the insult with patience, and contented myself by easing my heart with a flood of tears. "i advised poor margaret to make her distresses known to the worthy clergyman, with whom she had so long lived with an unblemished character, and to beg of him to advance them a little money. margaret replied, that she supposed her husband would not like that proposal, fearing that their friend might suspect their necessities proceeded from mismanagement. "it is but a few days ago since she brought me her two children, and begged me to take care of them till the evening. her intention was to go to a village at a little distance, and endeavour to get some hemp from the weaver to spin, with a view to get something towards the debt. as she could not persuade herself to wait upon the clergyman, her husband had undertaken it, and had accordingly set off on that business. as margaret was going, she clasped her two children to her breast and kissed them, little thinking it was to be the last time she should ever see them. "soon after she was gone, i heard some noise in her house, but supposed it might be only the flapping of the door. however, the evening came on, and my neighbour did not come to fetch her children as usual. i therefore determined to go to her house, and see if she was come home. i found the door open and went in; but how shall i express my horror and astonishment, when i found poor margaret lying dead at the foot of the stairs! "after trying in vain to recover her, i fetched the surgeon, who shook his head, and said all was over. the coroner's inquest brought in their verdict accidental death; but, as her husband was missing, ill-natured people raised suspicious reports. her death, however, was easily to be accounted for; she had returned to her house, to go up to the loft for a bag to hold her hemp, and as her eyes were still dimmed with tears, she had missed her step in coming down, and fallen from the top of the stairs, with her head foremost, on the ground. the bag that lay by her side showed this to have been the case. "i made an offer to the parish officers to keep the two children myself, not doubting, but that the goodness of god, even a poor widow as i was, would enable me to support them. the worthy curate came yesterday to see the unfortunate margaret, and great indeed was his affliction when i related to him what i have been now telling you. i then told him, that john was gone to him; but i was much surprised, when he declared he had seen nothing of him. the two children came up to him; and little jack asked him, if he could not awake his mother, who had been a long time asleep. this brought tears into the eyes of the good curate, who proposed to take the two children home to his own house and bring them up under his care; but as i could not consent to part with both these innocents, it was at last agreed, that he should take the younger and leave me the elder. "he asked little jack if he should not like to go with him. 'what, where my mother is?' said jack, 'oh! yes, with all my heart!' 'no, my little man,' replied the curate, 'i do not mean there, but to my handsome house and garden.'--'no, no,' answered jack, 'i will stay here with susan, and every day go to where my mother is; for i would rather go there than to your handsome garden.' "this worthy curate did not choose to vex the child more, who went and hid himself behind my bed-curtains. he told me he would send his man for the younger, who would be more trouble to me than the elder child, and before he went, left me some money towards the support of this. "this, sir, is the whole of this unfortunate business. what makes me exceedingly uneasy at present is, that john does not return, and that it is reported in the parish, that he has connected himself with a gang of smugglers, and that his wife put an end to her life through grief. these stories have obtained such credit in the village, that even the children have got it; and whenever poor jack attempts to mix with them, they drive him away as though he were infectious. hence the poor little fellow is quite dull, and now never goes out but to pay a sad visit to his mother's grave." mr. glover, who had silently listened to this melancholy tale, was deeply affected by it. little jack was now got close up to susan; he looked at her with fondness, and often called her his mother. mr. glover at length broke silence, and told susan she was a worthy woman, and that god would not fail to reward her for her generosity towards this unfortunate family. "ah!" said susan, "i am happy in what i have done, and i wish i could have done more; but my only possession consists in my cottage, a little garden, in which i have a few greens, and what i can earn by the labour of my hands. yet for these eight years that i have been a widow, god has not suffered me to want, and i trust he never will." mr. glover reminded her, that keeping this little boy must be very inconvenient to her, and that she would find it difficult to supply him with clothes. she answered, "i leave the care of that to him who clothes the fields with grass and the trees with leaves. he has given me fingers to sew and spin, and they shall work to clothe my poor little orphan. i will never part with him." mr. glover was astonished at this good woman's resolution. "i must not suffer you alone," said he, "to have all the honour of befriending this poor orphan, since god has bestowed on me those blessings of affluence which you do not enjoy. permit me to take care of the education of this sweet boy; and, since i find that you cannot live separate, i will take you both home with me, and provide for you. sell your cottage and garden, and make my house your own, where you may spend the remainder of your life amidst peace and plenty." susan gave mr. glover a most affectionate look, but begged he would excuse her accepting his offer, as she was fond of the spot on which she was born, and had lived in so long. besides, she added, she could not suit herself to the bustle of a great house, and should soon grow sick, were she to live upon dainties in idleness. "if you will please," continued susan, "now and then to send him a small matter to pay for his schooling, and to supply him with tools when he shall take to business, god will not fail to reward you for your bounty. as i have no child, he shall be as one to me, and whatever i possess shall be his at my death." mr. glover, finding she did not choose to quit her habitation, told her, he should every month send her what would be sufficient for her support, and that he would sometimes come and see them himself. susan lifted up her hands to heaven, and bid jackey go and ask the gentleman's blessing, which he did. he then threw down his purse on the table, bid them a farewell, and mounting his horse, took the road that led to the parish in which the worthy curate lived. on mr. glover's arrival there, he found the worthy curate reading a letter, on which he had shed some tears. he explained the cause of his visit to this worthy divine, and asked him, if he knew what was become of the father of the two little unfortunate children. the curate replied, that it was not a quarter of an hour since he received a letter from him to his wife. "it was," said the curate, "inclosed in one to me, and contains a small draft for the use of his wife; he requests me to deliver it to her, and to console her for his absence. as she is dead, i have opened the letter, and here it is; be so kind as to read it." mr. glover took the letter, the particulars of which were as follow: he hoped his wife would not give herself any uneasiness on account of his absence. as he was going to the clergyman's house, he began to think that it could be of no use to go thus a begging, and, if he should borrow money, he was not sure he should be able to pay it, which he thought would be as bad as thieving. at this instant a thought struck into his head, that he was young and hearty, stout and able-bodied, and therefore could see no harm if he entered on board a man of war for a few years, where he might stand a chance of getting a fortune for his wife and children, at least get enough to pay all his debts. while he was thinking of this matter, a press-gang came up, and asked him if he would enter, telling him that they would give him five pounds bounty. the thought of receiving five pounds fixed his determination at once, and he accordingly entered, received the money, and sent every farthing of it to his wife, with his love and blessing, and hoping they would all join in their prayers to god for him. he hoped the war would soon be over, and that he should then return with inexpressible joy to his dear wife. mr. glover's eyes swimmed with tears all the time he was reading the letter. when he had finished it, "this man," said he, "may indeed be justly called a good husband, a tender father, and an honest man. there is an expressive pleasure in being a friend to such characters as these. i will pay john's debts, and enable him to set up his trade again. let his money be kept for the children, to be divided between them, as soon as they shall be at an age to know how to make use of it, and i will add something to this sacred deposit." so greatly was the worthy curate affected, that he could make no reply; and mr. glover perfectly understanding the cause of his silence, squeezed him by the hand, and took his leave; but he completely accomplished all his designs in favour of john, who at length returned, and enjoyed an easiness of circumstances beyond any thing he had before experienced. nothing now disturbed john's felicity, but the sorrowful reflection of having lost his dear margaret; she had experienced part of his misfortunes, but had not lived to share in his felicity; and john's only consolation is perpetually to talk about her to susan, whom he looks upon as a sister to him, and as a mother to his children. little jack frequently visits his mother's grave; and has made so good a use of mr. glover's generosity, in improving himself, that this excellent gentleman intends placing him in a very desirable situation. john's younger son has likewise a share in his favours; and whenever mr. glover's mind is oppressed, a visit to this spot, where such an affecting scene passed, and where he has been enabled to do so much good, never fails to raise his spirits. my readers will from hence learn, that god always assists those who put their trust in him. it is on him we must rely on every occasion, and he will not desert us, provided we ourselves also try to surmount difficulties by patience and industry. [illustration] leonora and adolphus. [illustration] a young widow lady, whose name was lenox, had two children, leonora and adolphus, both equally deserving the affections of a parent, which, however, were unequally shared. adolphus was the favourite, which leonora very early began to discover, and consequently felt no small share of uneasiness on the occasion: but she was prudent enough to conceal her sorrow. leonora, though not remarkably handsome, had a mind that made ample amends for the want of beauty; but her brother was a little cupid, on whom mrs. lenox lavished all her kisses and caresses. it is no wonder that the servants, to gain the favour of their mistress, were very attentive to humour him in all his whimsies. leonora, on the other hand, was consequently slighted by every one in the house; and, so far from wishing to study her humour, they scarcely treated her with common civility. finding herself frequently alone and neglected, and taken little notice of by any one, she would privately shed a torrent of tears; but she always took care, that not the least mark of discontent should escape her in the presence of any one. her constant attention to the observance of her duty, her mildness, and endeavours to convince her mother that her mind was superior to her face, had no effect; for beauty alone attracts the attention of those who examine no further than external appearances. mrs. lenox, who was continually chiding leonora, and expecting from her perfections far beyond the reach of those more advanced in years, at last fell sick. adolphus seemed very sorry for his mother's illness; but leonora, with the softest looks and most languishing countenance, fancied she perceived in her mother an abatement of her accustomed rigour towards her, and far surpassed her brother in her attention to her parent. she endeavoured to supply her slightest wants, exerted all her penetration to discover them, that she might even spare her the pain of asking for any thing. so long as her mother's illness had the least appearance of danger, she never quitted her pillow, and neither threats nor commands could prevail on her to take the least repose. mrs. lenox, however, at length recovered, which afforded inexpressible pleasure to the amiable leonora; but she soon experienced a renewal of her misfortunes, as her mother began to treat her with her usual severity and indifference. as mrs. lenox was one day talking to her children on the pain she had suffered during her illness, and was praising them for the anxiety they had shown on her account, she desired them to ask of her whatever they thought would be the most pleasing to them, and they should certainly be indulged in it, provided their demands were not unreasonable. first addressing herself to adolphus, she desired to know what he would choose: and his desire was to have a cane and a watch, which his mother promised he should have the next morning. "and pray, leonora," said mrs. lenox, "what is your wish?"--"me, mamma, me?" answered she, trembling, "if you do but love me, i have nothing else to wish for!"--"this is not an answer;" replied the mother, "you shall have your recompense likewise, miss, therefore speak your wish instantly." however accustomed leonora might have been to this severe tone, yet she felt it on this occasion more sensibly than ever she had before. she threw herself at her mother's feet, looked up to her with eyes swimming in tears, and instantly hiding her face with both her hands, lisped out these words: "only give me two kisses, such as you give my brother." what heart could fail to relent at these words? mrs. lenox felt all the tender sentiments of a parent arise in her heart, and, taking her up in her arms, she clasped her to her breast, and loaded her with kisses. the sweet leonora, who now, for the first time, received her mother's caresses, gave way to the effusion of her joy and love; she kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her breasts, and her hands; and adolphus, who loved his sister, mixed his embraces with hers. thus all had a share in this scene of unexpected happiness. the affection which mrs. lenox had so long withheld from leonora, she now repaid with interest, and her daughter returned it with the most dutiful attention. adolphus, so far from being jealous at this change of his mother's affection for his sister, showed every mark of pleasure on the occasion, and he afterwards reaped a reward of so generous a conduct; for his natural disposition having been, in some measure, injured by the too great indulgence of his mother, he gave way in his early days to those little indiscretions, which would have lost him the heart of his parent, had not his sister stepped in between them. it was to the advice of this amiable girl that adolphus at last owed his entire reformation of manners. they all three then experienced, that true happiness cannot exist in a family, unless the most perfect union between brothers and sisters, and the most lively and equal affection between parents and children, are constantly and strictly adhered to. [illustration] flora and her little lamb [illustration] a poor countryman's little daughter, whose name was flora, was one morning sitting by the side of the road, holding on her lap a pan of milk for her breakfast, into which she was breaking some bits of coarse black bread. while flora was thus busily employed at her breakfast, a farmer was passing the road with his cart, in which were about twenty lambs, and these he was going to carry to the market for sale. these pretty little lambs were tied together like so many criminals, and lay with their legs fastened with cords, and their heads hanging down. their plaintive bleatings pierced the heart of poor flora, but they had no manner of effect on the hardhearted farmer. as soon as he came opposite the place where little flora was sitting, he threw down to her a lamb, which he was carrying across his shoulder, saying, "there, my girl, is a poor sorry creature that has just died, and made me some shillings poorer than i was. you may take it if you will, and do what you like with it." flora put down her milk and her bread, and taking up the lamb, viewed it with looks of tenderness and compassion. "but why should i pity you?" said she to the lamb. "either this day or to-morrow they would have run a great knife through your throat, whereas now you have nothing to fear." while she was thus speaking, the warmth of her arms somewhat revived the lamb, who, opening its eyes a little, made a slight motion, and cried baa, in a very low tone, as if it were calling for its mother. it would be impossible to express little flora's joy on this occasion. she covered the lamb in her apron, and over that put her stuff petticoat; she then bent her breast down towards her lap, in order to increase the warmth, and blew into its mouth and nostrils with all the force she could. by degrees the poor animal began to stir, and every motion it made conveyed joy to her little heart. this success encouraged her to proceed; she crumbled some of her bread into her pan, and, taking it up in her fingers, she with no small difficulty forced it between its teeth, which were very firmly closed together. the lamb, whose only disorder was hunger and fatigue, began to feel the effects of this nourishment. it first began to stretch out its limbs, then shake its head, to wag its tail, and at last to prick up its ears. in a little time, it was able to stand upon its legs, and then went of itself to flora's breakfast pan, who was highly delighted to see it take such pleasing liberties; for she cared not a farthing about losing her own breakfast, since it saved the life of the little lamb. in short, in a little time, it recovered its usual strength, and began to skip and play about its kind deliverer. it may naturally be supposed, that flora was greatly pleased at this unexpected success. she took it up in her arms, and ran with it to the cottage to shew it her mother. her baba, for so flora called it, became the first object of her cares, and it constantly shared with her in the little allowance of bread and milk, which she received for her meals. indeed, so fond was she of it, that she would not have exchanged it for a whole flock. nor was baba insensible of the fondness of her little mistress, since she would follow her wherever she went, would come and eat out of her hand, skip, and frisk round her, and would bleat most piteously whenever flora was obliged to leave her at home. baba, however, repaid the services of her little mistress in a more substantial manner than that of merely dancing about her, for she brought forth young lambs: those lambs grew up, and brought forth others; so that, within the space of a few years, flora had a very capital stock, that furnished the whole family with food and raiment. such, my little readers, are the rewards which providence bestows on acts of goodness, tenderness, and humanity. [illustration] the fruitful vine [illustration] it was in the beginning of the spring, when mr. jackson went to his country-house, and took with him his little son junius, in order to treat him with a walk in the garden. the primroses and violets were then displaying all their beauties, and many trees had begun to show what livery they were soon to wear. after walking some time about the garden, they happened to go into the summer-house, at the foot of which grew the stump of a vine, which twisted wildly, and extended its naked branches in a rude and irregular manner. as soon as little junius saw this tree, he exclaimed sadly against the ugly appearance it made, and began to exert all his strength to pull it up, but he found his efforts in vain, it being too well rooted to yield to his weak arm. he begged his papa to call the gardener to grub it up, and make firewood of it; but mr. jackson desired his son to let the tree alone, telling him that he would in a few months give him his reasons for not complying with his request. this did not satisfy junius, who desired his father to look at those lively crocusses and snow-drops, saying, he could not see why that barren stump should be kept, which did not produce a single green leaf. he thought it spoiled and disfigured the garden, and therefore begged his father would permit him to fetch the gardener to pluck it up. mr. jackson, who could not think of granting him his request, told him, that it must stand as it then was, at least for some time to come. little junius still persisted in his entreaties, urging how disgraceful it was to the garden; but his father diverted his attention from the vine, by turning the conversation. it so happened, that mr. jackson's affairs called him to a different part of the country, from whence he did not return till the middle of autumn. he no sooner came home, than he paid a visit to his country-house, taking little junius with him. as the day happened to be exceedingly warm, they retired to enjoy the benefit of the shade, and entered the arbour, in which the vine stump had before so much offended his son junius. "ah! papa," said the young gentleman, "how charming and delightful is this green shade! i am much obliged to you for having that dry and ugly stump plucked up, which i found so much fault with when we were here last, and for putting in its place this beautiful plant; i suppose you did it in order to give me an agreeable surprise. how delightful and tempting the fruit looks! what fine grapes! some purple, and others almost black: i see no tree in the garden that looks in so blooming a state. all have lost their fruit; but this fine one seems in the highest perfection. see how it is loaded! see those wide-spreading leaves that hide the clusters. if the fruit be as good as it appears beautiful, it must be delicious." little junius was in raptures when he tasted one of the grapes, which his father gave him, and still more when he informed him, that from such fruit was made that delicious liquor which he sometimes tasted after dinner. the little fellow was quite astonished on hearing his father talk thus; but he was far more surprised, when mr. jackson told him, that all those fine leaves, and delicious fruit grew from that very crooked and misshapen stump, with which he had been so angry in the spring. his father then asked him, if he should now order the gardener to pluck it up, and make firewood of it. junius was much confused; but, after a short silence, told his papa, that he would rather see every other tree in the garden cut down than that, so beautiful were its leaves, and so delicious its fruit. as mr. jackson was a man of good sense, he thus moralized on this occasion. "you see then, my dear," said he, "how imprudently i should have acted, had i followed your advice, and cut down this tree. daily experience convinces us, that the same thing happens frequently in the commerce of this world, which has in this instance misled you. when we see a child badly clothed, and of an unpleasing external appearance, we are too apt to despise him, and grow conceited on comparing ourselves with him; and sometimes even go so far as cruelly to address him in haughty and insulting language. but beware, my dear boy, how you run into errors by forming a too hasty judgment. it is possible that in a person so little favoured by nature may dwell an exalted soul, which may one day astonish the world with the greatness of its virtues, or enlighten it with knowledge. the most rugged stem may produce the most delicious fruit, while a straight and stately plant may be worthless and barren." [illustration] sir john denham and his worthy tenant. [illustration] one morning, sir john denham having shut himself up in his study, on some particular business, his servant came to inform him, that one of his tenants, farmer harris, desired to speak with him. sir john told him to show the farmer into the drawing-room, and to beg him to stay one moment, until he had finished writing a letter. sir john had three children, robert, arthur, and sophia, who were in the drawing-room when the farmer was introduced. as soon as he entered, he saluted them very respectfully, though not with the grace of a dancing-master, nor were his compliments very elegantly turned. the two sons looked at each other with a smile of contempt and disrespect. indeed, they behaved in such a manner, that the poor farmer blushed, and was quite out of countenance. robert was so shamefully impertinent as to walk round him, holding his nose, and asking his brother, if he did not perceive something of the smell of a dung heap. then he lighted some paper at the fire, and carried it round the room, in order to disperse, as he said, the unpleasant smell. arthur all the while stood laughing most heartily. sophia, however, acted in a very different manner; for, instead of imitating the rudeness of her brothers, she checked them for their behaviour, made apologies for them to the farmer, and approaching him with the most complaisant looks, offered him some wine to refresh him, made him sit down, and took from him his hat and stick to put by. in a little time, sir john came out of his study, and approaching the farmer in a friendly manner, took him by the hand, inquired after the health of his family, and asked him what had brought him to town. the farmer replied, that he was come to pay him half a year's rent, and that he hoped he would not be displeased at his not coming sooner, the roads having been so bad that he could not till then carry his corn to market. sir john told him he was not displeased at his not coming sooner, because he knew him to be an honest man, who had no occasion to be put in mind of his debts. the farmer then put down the money, and drew out of his great coat pocket a jar of candied fruits. "i have brought something here," said he, "for the young folks. won't you be so kind, sir john, as to let them come out one of these days, and take a mouthful of the country air with us? i'd try, as well as i could, to entertain and amuse them. i have two good stout nags, and would come for them myself, and take them down in my four-wheeled chaise, which will carry them very safely, i'll warrant it." sir john said, that he would certainly take an opportunity to pay him a visit, and invited him to stay to dinner; but the farmer excused himself, saying, he had a good deal of business to do in town, and wished to get home before night. sir john filled his pocket with cakes for his children, thanked him for the present he had made to his, and then took leave of him. no sooner was the farmer gone, than sophia, in the presence of her brothers, acquainted her papa of the very rude reception they had given the honest farmer. sir john was exceedingly displeased at their conduct, and much applauded sophia for her different behaviour. sir john, being seated at breakfast with his children, opened the farmer's jar of fruit, and he and his daughter ate some of them, which they thought were very nice; but robert and arthur were neither of them invited to a single taste. their longing eyes were fixed upon them; but their father, instead of taking any notice of them, continued conversing with sophia, whom he advised never to despise a person merely for the plainness of his dress; "for," said he, "were we to behave politely to those only who are finely clothed, we should appear to direct our attention more to the dress than to the wearer. the most worthy people are frequently found under the plainest dress, and of this we have an example in farmer harris. it is this man who helps to clothe you, and also to procure you a proper education, for the money that he and my other tenants bring me, enables me to do these things." breakfast being finished, the remainder of the fruit was ordered to be locked up; but robert and his brother, whose longing eyes followed the jar, clearly saw they were to have none of them. in this they were confirmed by their father, who told them not to expect to taste any of those fruits, either on that or any future day. robert endeavoured to excuse himself by saying, that it was not his fault if the farmer did not smell well; and he thought there was no harm in telling him of it. if people will go among dung, they must expect to smell of it. "and yet," said sir john, "if this man were not to manure his land with dung, his crops would fail him, he would be unable to pay me his rent; and you yourself would perhaps be obliged to follow a dung cart." the two boys saw displeasure in their papa's countenance, and therefore did not presume to say any thing more. early on a morning, shortly after, the good farmer came to sir john denham's door, and sent up his compliments, kindly inviting him to make a little excursion to his farm. sir john could not resist the friendly invitation, as a refusal might perhaps have made the honest farmer uneasy. robert and arthur begged very hard to go along with them, promising to behave more civilly in future; and sophia begging for them likewise, sir john at last consented. they then mounted the four-wheeled chaise with joyful countenances, and, as the farmer had a pair of good horses, they were there in a short time. on their arrival, mrs. harris, the farmer's wife, came to the door to receive them, helped the young gentlefolks out of the chaise, and kissed them. all their little family, dressed in their best clothes, came out to compliment their visitors. sir john would have stopped a moment to talk with the little ones, and caress them; but mrs. harris pressed him to go in, lest the coffee should grow cold, it being already poured out; it was placed on a table, covered with a napkin as white as snow. indeed, the coffee-pot was not silver, nor the cups china, yet every thing was in the neatest order. robert and arthur, however, looked slily at each other, and would have burst out into a laugh, had not their father been present. mrs. harris, who was a sensible woman, guessed by their looks what they thought, and therefore made an apology for the humble style in which her table was set out, which she owned could not be equal to what they met with at their own homes; but hoped they would not be dissatisfied with her homely fare. the cakes she produced were excellent, for she spared no pains in making them. as soon as breakfast was over, the farmer asked sir john to look at his orchard and grounds; and mrs. harris took all the pains she could to make the walk pleasing to the children. she showed them all her flocks, which covered the fields, and gave them the prettiest lambs to play with. she then conducted them to her pigeon-house, where every thing was clean and wholesome. there were some so young that they were unable to fly; some of the mothers sitting on their eggs, and others employed in feeding their young. from the pigeon-house, they proceeded to the bee-hive: but mrs. harris took care that they should not go too near them, for fear of being stung. most of these sights being new to the children, they seemed highly pleased with them, and were even going to take a second survey of them, when the farmer's youngest son came to inform them that dinner was ready. they ate off pewter, and drank out of delft ware; but robert and arthur, finding themselves so well pleased with their morning-walk, dared not to indulge themselves in ill-natured observations. mrs. harris, indeed, had spared neither pains nor attention to produce every thing in the best manner she was able. sir john, after dinner, perceiving two fiddles hang up against the wall, asked who played on those instruments. the farmer answered, he and his son; and, without saying a word more, he made a sign to his son luke to take down the fiddles. they by turns played some old tunes, with which sir john seemed highly pleased. as they were going to hang up the instruments, sir john desired his two sons to play some of their best tunes, putting the fiddles into their hands: but they knew not even how to hold the bow, and their confusion occasioned a general laugh. sir john, now thinking it high time to return home, desired the farmer to order the carriage. farmer harris strongly pressed sir john to stay all night, but the farmer was at last obliged to submit to sir john's excuses. on his return home, he asked his son robert how he had liked his entertainment; and what he should have thought of the farmer, if he had taken no pains to entertain them. he replied, that he liked his entertainment; but had he not taken pains to accommodate them, he should have thought him an unmannerly clown. "ah, robert! robert!" said sir john, "this honest man came to our house, and, instead of offering him any refreshment, you made game of him. which, then, is the best bred, you or the farmer?" robert blushed, and seemed at a loss what answer to make; but at length replied, that it was his duty to receive them well, as he got his living off their lands. "that is true," answered sir john, "but it may be easily seen who draws the greatest profit from my lands, the farmer or i. he indeed feeds his horses with hay which he gets off my meadows, but his horses in return plough the fields, which otherwise would be overrun with weeds. he also feeds his cows and his sheep with the hay; but their dung is useful in giving fertility to the ground. his wife and children are fed with the harvest corn; but they in return devote the summer to weeding the crops; and afterwards, some in reaping them, and some in threshing. all these labours end in my advantage. the rest of the hay and corn he takes to market to sell, and with the produce thereof he pays his rent. from this, it is evident, who derives the greatest profit from my lands." here a long pause ensued; but, at last, robert confessed that he saw his error. "remember, then, all your life," said sir john "what has now been offered to your eyes and ears. this farmer, so homely dressed, whose manners you have considered as so rustic, this man is better bred than you; and, though he knows nothing of latin, he knows much more than you, and things of much greater use. you see, therefore, how unjust it is to despise any one for the plainness of his dress, and the rusticity of his manners. you may understand a little latin, but you know not how to plough, sow grain, or reap the harvest, nor even to prune a tree. sit down with being convinced that you have despised your superior." [illustration] alfred and dorinda. [illustration] mr. venables, one fine summer day, having promised his two children, alfred and dorinda, to treat them with a walk in a fine garden a little way out of town, went up into his dressing-room to prepare himself, leaving the two children in the parlour. alfred was so delighted with the thoughts of the pleasure he should receive from his walk, that he jumped about the room, without thinking of any evil consequence that could happen; but unluckily the skirt of his coat brushed against a very valuable flower, which his father was rearing with great pains, and which he had unfortunately just removed from before the window, in order to screen it from the scorching heat of the sun. "o brother, brother!" said dorinda, taking up the flower which was broken off from the stalk, "what have you done!" the sweet girl was holding the flower in her hand, when her father, having dressed himself, came into the parlour. "bless me! dorinda," said mr. venables, in an angry tone, "how could you be so thoughtless as to pluck a flower, which you have seen me take so much care to rear, in order to have taken seed from it?" poor dorinda was in such a fright, that she could only beg her papa not to be angry. mr. venables, growing more calm, replied he was not angry, but reminded her, that as they were going to a garden where there was a variety of flowers, she might have waited till they got there to indulge her fancy. he therefore hoped she would not take it amiss if he left her at home. this was a terrible situation for dorinda, who held her head down, and said, nothing. little alfred, however, was of too generous a temper to keep silence any longer. he went up to his papa, with his eyes swimming in tears, and told him, that it was not his sister but himself, who had accidentally beaten off the head of the flower with the flap of his coat. he therefore desired, that his sister might go abroad, and he stay at home. mr. venables was so delighted with the generosity of his children, that he instantly forgave the accident, and tenderly kissed them both, being happy to see them have such an affection for each other. he told them, that he loved them equally alike, and that they should both go with him. alfred and dorinda kissed each other, and leaped about for joy. they all three then walked to the garden, where they saw plants of the most valuable kinds. mr. venables observed with pleasure how dorinda pressed her clothes on each side, and alfred kept the skirts of his coat under his arms, for fear of doing any damage in their walk among the flowers. the flower mr. venables had lost would have given him some pain had it happened from any other circumstance; but the pleasure he received from seeing such mutual affection and regard subsist between his two children, amply repaid him for the loss of his flower. i cannot omit the opportunity that here presents itself, of reminding my young friends, not only how necessary, but how amiable and praiseworthy it is, for brothers and sisters to live together in harmony. it is not only their most important interest to do so, but what should be a still stronger argument with them, such are the commands of him who made them. [illustration] rosina; or, the froward girl reformed. [illustration] i would recommend to all my little readers who have had the misfortune to contract a vicious habit, very attentively to peruse the following historical fragment, in which, if they will but properly reflect, they will see that amendment is no very difficult thing, when once they form a sincere resolution to accomplish it. rosina was the joy of her parents until the seventh year of her age, at which period the glowing light of reason begins to unfold itself, and make us sensible of our infantine faults; but this period of life had a different effect on rosina, who had then contracted an unhappy disposition, which cannot better be described, than by the practices of those snarling curs that grumble incessantly, and seem always ready to run and bite at those that approach them. if a person touched any of her playthings, though it were by mistake, she would be out of temper for hours, and murmur about the house as though she had been robbed. if any one attempted to correct her, though in the most gentle manner, she would fly into a rage, equalled only by the fury of contending elements, and the uproar of the angry billows of the ocean. her father and mother saw this unaccountable change, with inexpressible sorrow; for neither they, nor any in the house, could now bear with her. indeed, she would sometimes seem sensible of her errors, and would often shed tears in private, on seeing herself thus become the object of contempt to every one, not excepting her parents; but an ill habit had got the better of her temper, and she consequently every day grew worse and worse. one evening, which happened to be new year's eve, she saw her mother going towards her room with a basket under her cloak. rosina followed her mother, who ordered her to go back to the parlour immediately. as rosina went thither, she threw about all the stools and chairs that stood in her way. about half an hour after, her mamma sent for her; and great indeed was her surprise on seeing the room lighted up with a number of candles and the table covered with the most elegant toys. her mother called her to her, and desired her to read, in a bit of paper which she gave her, for whom those toys were intended, on which she read the following words, written in large letters; "for an amiable little girl, in return for her good behaviour." rosina looked down, and could not say a word. on her mother's asking her for whom those toys were intended, she replied, with tears in her eyes, that they could not be intended for her. her parent then showed her another paper, desiring her to see if that did not concern her. rosina took it, and read as follows: "for a froward little girl, who is sensible of her faults, and in beginning a new year will take pains to amend them." rosina, instantly throwing herself into her mother's arms, and crying bitterly, said, "o! that is i, that is i." the tears also fell from her parent's eyes, partly for sorrow, on account of her daughter's faults, and partly through joy in the promising hope of her amendment. "come, rosina," said she to her, after a short pause, "and take what was intended for you; and may god, who has heard your resolution, give you ability to fulfil it." rosina, however, insisted on it, that it belonged to the person described in the first paper, and therefore desired her mamma to keep those things for her till she answered that description. this answer gave her mother a deal of pleasure, and she immediately put all the toys into a drawer, giving the key of it to rosina, and telling her to open the drawer whenever she should think it proper so to do. several weeks passed without the least complaint against rosina, who had performed wonders on herself. she then went to her mamma, threw her arms round her neck, and asked her if she thought she had then any right to open the drawer. "yes, my dear," said her mother, clasping her tenderly in her arms, "you may now open the drawer with great propriety. but pray tell me how you have so well managed to get the better of your temper?" rosina said it had cost her a deal of trouble; but every morning and evening, and indeed almost every hour in the day, she prayed to god to assist her. her mother shed tears of delight on this occasion; and rosina became not only mistress of the toys, but of the affections of all her friends and acquaintances. her mother related this happy change in the temper of her daughter in the presence of a little miss, who gave way to the same unhappy disposition; when the little girl was so struck with the relation of it, that she immediately determined to set about the work of reformation, in order to become as amiable as rosina. her attempt was not made in vain; and rosina had the satisfaction to find, that, in being useful to herself, she had contributed to make others happy. my youthful readers, if any of you labour under bad habits, set about a reformation immediately, lest you become hardened by time, and thus totally destroy your present and future happiness. [illustration] little anthony. [illustration] on one of those fine mornings, which the month of june frequently affords us, little anthony was busily employed in preparing to set out with his father on a party of pleasure, which, for several days before, had engrossed all his attention. though, in general, he found it very difficult to rise early, yet this morning he got up soon, without being called, so much was his mind fixed on the intended jaunt. it often happens, with young people in particular, that, all on a sudden, they lose the object they flattered themselves they were almost in possession of. so it fared with little anthony; for, just as they were ready to set out, the sky darkened all at once, the clouds grew thick, and a tempestuous wind bent down the trees, and raised a cloud of dust. little anthony was running down the garden every minute to see how the sky looked, and then jumped up-stairs to examine the barometer; but neither the sky nor the barometer seemed to forbode any thing in his favour. notwithstanding all this, he gave his father the most flattering hopes that it would still be a fair day, and that these unfavourable appearances would soon disperse. he doubted not but that it would be one of the finest days in the world; and he therefore thought, that the sooner they set out the better, as it would be a pity to lose a moment of their time. his father, however, did not choose to be too hasty in giving credit to his son's predictions, and thought it more advisable to wait a little. while anthony and his father were reasoning on this matter, the clouds burst, and down came a very heavy shower of rain. poor anthony was now doubly disappointed, and vented his grief in tears, refusing to listen to the voice of consolation. the rain continued, without intermission, till three o'clock in the afternoon, when the clouds began to disperse, the sun resumed its splendour, the element its clearness, and all nature breathed the odours of the spring. as the weather brightened, so did the countenance of little anthony, and by degrees he recovered his good humour. his father now thought it necessary to indulge him with a little walk, and off they set. the calmness of the air, the music of the feathered songsters, the lively and enchanting verdure of the fields, and the sweet perfumes that breathed all around them, completely quieted and composed the troubled heart of the disappointed anthony. "do not you observe," said his father to him, "how agreeable the change is of every thing before you? you cannot have yet forgotten how dull every thing appeared to you yesterday; the ground was parched up for want of rain; the flowers had lost their colour, and hung their heads in languor; and, in short, all nature seemed to be in a state of inaction. what can be the reason, that nature has so suddenly put on such a different aspect?"--"that is easily accounted for, sir," said anthony, "it undoubtedly is occasioned by the rain that has fallen to-day." anthony had no sooner pronounced these words, than he saw his father's motive for asking him the question. he now plainly perceived the impropriety of his late conduct, in being so unhappy about what was evidently so universally serviceable. he blushed, but his father took no notice of it, judging that his own sense would sufficiently teach him another time, without reluctance, to sacrifice selfish pleasure to the general good of the community at large. [illustration] the history of jonathan, the gardener. [illustration] in the city of lincoln lived an honest and industrious gardener, whose name was jonathan, and who was in general considered as the most skilful in his profession of any in that county. his fruits were much larger than any of his neighbours, and were generally supposed to have a more exquisite flavour. it was the pride of all the neighbouring gentlemen to have jonathan's fruits to form their desserts, so that he was under no necessity of sending the produce of his garden to market, as he was always sure of meeting with a sale for them at home. his prudence and assiduity increased as his good fortune enlarged, and, instead of riches making him idle, he attended more closely to cultivation. such a character and situation could not fail of procuring him a suitable matrimonial mate, and he accordingly married a young woman in the neighbourhood, whose name was bella, and who was both prudent and handsome. the first year of their marriage was as comfortable as they could wish for; for bella assisted her husband in his business, and every thing prospered with them. this happiness, however, was not to last long; for near his house lived another gardener, whose name was guzzle, and who spent his time, from morning to night, in an alehouse. the merry and thoughtless humour of guzzle, by degrees, began to be pleasing to jonathan, who soon fell into the same ruinous error. at first, he only went now and then to drink with him, and talk to him about gardening; but he very soon began to drop the subject of plants, and delight only in the praises of malt. bella saw this change in her husband with the utmost grief and consternation. as yet, not having sufficient experience to attend the wall-fruit herself, she was frequently obliged to fetch him home to his work, when she generally found him in a state of intoxication. it would often have been better had he kept out of the garden than gone into it; for his head was generally so muddled with beer, when he went to work on his trees, that his pruning-knife committed the greatest depredations, cutting away those branches which ought to have been left, and leaving those that were useless. hence it was not to be wondered at, that the garden fell off in the quality and quantity of its fruit, and the more jonathan perceived the decay, the more he gave himself up to drinking. as his garden gradually failed in procuring him the means of getting strong liquor, he first parted with his furniture, and then with his linen and clothes. bella, in the mean time, did what little she could to keep things together; but all to no purpose. one day, when she was gone to market with some roots she had reared herself, he went and sold his working utensils, and immediately went and spent all with guzzle. judge what must be the situation of poor bella on her return! it was indeed a heart-breaking consideration, to be thus reduced to poverty by the folly of her husband; but yet she loved him, and equally felt for him as for herself, but still more for an infant, as yet but six months old, and which received its nourishment from her breast. in the evening jonathan came home drunk, and, swearing at his wife, asked her for something to eat. bella handed him a knife, and put before him a large basket covered with her apron; jonathan, in a pet, pulled away the apron; but his astonishment was inexpressible, when he beheld nothing in the basket but his own child fast asleep. "eat that," said bella, "for i have nothing else to give you. it is your own child, and if you do not devour it, famine and misery will in a short time." jonathan seemed almost petrified into a stone at these words, and for some time remained speechless, with his eyes fixed on his little sleeping son. at last recovering himself, quite sobered, his heart eased itself in tears and lamentations. he rose and embraced his wife, asked her pardon, and promised to amend; and what was still better, he was faithful to his promise. though his wife's father had for some time refused to see him, yet, on being made acquainted with his promises of reformation, he advanced money sufficient to enable him to restore his garden to its former state, jonathan did not deceive him; for his garden put on another appearance, and cut a more splendid figure than ever. after this, neither his prudence nor activity forsook him, but he became at once, and continued so even to old age, the honest man, the indulgent husband, and the tender father. he would sometimes tell this tale of his follies to his son, as a lesson to him, how dangerous it is to get connected with bad company, and how easily human nature is led astray by the poison of example. the son, who thus acquired knowledge at the father's former expense, became a wise and prudent man, and conceived such an aversion to idleness and drinking, that he continued all his life as sober as he was laborious. thus was an innocent infant the cause of reformation in a deluded father. [illustration] the sparrow's nest. [illustration] billy jessamy, having one day espied a sparrow's nest under the eves of the house, ran directly to inform his sisters of the important discovery, and they immediately fell into a consultation concerning the manner in which they should take it. it was at last agreed, that they should wait till the young ones were fledged, that billy should then get a ladder up against the wall, and that his sisters should hold it fast below, while he mounted after the prize. as soon as they thought these poor little creatures were properly fledged, preparations were made for the execution of their intended plan. the old birds flew backwards and forwards about the nest, and expressed, as well as they were able, the sorrow and affliction they felt on being robbed of their young. billy and his two sisters, however, paid no regard to their piteous moans; for they took the nest, with three young ones in it. as they had now got the innocent prisoners in their possession, the next thing to be considered was, what they should do with them. the younger sister, being of a mild and tender-hearted disposition, proposed putting them into a cage, promising to look after them herself, and to see that they wanted for nothing. she reminded her brother and sister how pretty it would be to see and hear those birds when grown up. billy, however, was of a very different opinion; for he insisted on it, that it would be better to pluck off their feathers, and then set them down in the middle of the room, as it would be very funny to see how they would hop about without feathers. the elder sister was of the same way of thinking as the younger; but billy was determined to have the matter entirely his own way. the two little ladies, finding they were not likely to have things as they wished, gave up the point without much hesitation; for billy had already begun to strip the poor helpless birds. as fast as he plucked them, he put them down on the floor, and it was not long before the little birds were stripped of all their tender feathers. the poor things cried _weet!_ _weet!_ and complained in the most piteous accents; they shook their little wings, and shuddered with cold. billy, however, who had not the least kind of feeling for their sufferings, carried his persecutions still further, pushing them with his toe, to make them go on when they stopped, and laughing most heartily whenever they staggered or tumbled down through weakness. though his two sisters at first setting off had pleaded against this cruel kind of sport, yet, seeing their brother so merry on the occasion, they forgot their former dictates of humanity, and joined in the cruel sport with him. such, as we saw in the preceding tale, is the influence of bad example! in the midst of this cruel kind of enjoyment, at a distance they saw their tutor approaching. this put them into some flurry, and each pocketed a bird. they would have avoided their tutor, but he called to them, and asked their reason for wishing to shun him. they approached him very slowly, with their eyes cast downwards, which convinced him that something amiss was going forwards. on their answering, that they were only playing, their tutor observed to them, that they very well knew he never denied them innocent amusement, but, on the contrary, was always glad to see them cheerful and happy. he took notice that each held one of their hands in their pocket, upon which he insisted on their pulling them out, and letting him see what it was they endeavoured to conceal. they were obliged to comply, much against their will, when each produced a poor bird, that had been stripped of its feathers. the tutor was filled with pity and indignation, and gave each of them a look, that was more dreadful than any words he could have spoken. after some silence, billy attempted to justify himself by saying, that it was a droll sight to see sparrows hopping about without feathers, and he could see no harm in it. "can you then," said the tutor to billy, "take pleasure in seeing innocent creatures suffer, and hear their cries without pity?" billy said he did not see how they could suffer from having a few feathers pulled off. the tutor, to convince him of his error, pulled a few hairs from his head, when he roared out loudly, that he hurt him. "what would your pain be then," said the tutor, "were i thus to pluck all the hair off your head? you are sensible of the pain you now feel, but you were insensible of the torment to which you put those innocent creatures, that never offended you. but that you, ladies, should join in such an act of cruelty, very much surprises me!" the ladies stood motionless, and then, without being able to say a word, sat down, with their eyes swimming in tears; which their tutor observing, he said no more to them. but billy still persisted in his opinion, that he did the birds no harm; on the contrary, he said, they showed their pleasure by clapping their wings and chirping. "they clapped their wings," said the tutor, "from the pain you put them to; and what you call chirping, were cries and lamentations. could those birds have expressed themselves in your speech, you would have heard them cry, 'ah, father and mother! save us, for we have fallen into the hands of cruel children, who have robbed us of all our feathers! we are cold and in pain. come, warm us and cure us, or we shall soon die!'" the little ladies could no longer refrain from tears, and accused billy of leading them into this act of cruelty. billy was himself become sensible of his faults, and had already felt the smart of having a few hairs plucked from his head; but the reproaches of his own heart were now visible on his countenance. it appeared to the tutor, that there was no need of carrying the punishment any further; for the error billy had committed did not arise from a natural love of cruelty, but merely from want of thought and reflection. from this moment billy, instead of punishing and tormenting dumb creatures, always felt for their distresses, and did what he could to relieve them. [illustration] william and thomas; _or, the contrast between industry and indolence._ [illustration] in a village, at no small distance from the metropolis, lived a wealthy husbandman, who had two sons, william and thomas, of whom the former was exactly a year older than the latter. on the day that the second son was born, the husbandman set in his orchard two young apple-trees of an equal size, on which he bestowed the same care in cultivating, and they throve so much alike, that it was a difficult matter to say which claimed the preference. as soon as the children were capable of using garden implements, their father took them, on a fine day, early in the spring, to see the two plants he had reared for them, and called after their names. william and thomas having admired the beauty of these trees, now filled with blossoms, their father told them that he made them a present of them in good condition, and that they would continue to thrive or decay, in proportion to the labour or neglect they received. thomas, though the younger son, turned all his attention to the improvement of his tree, by clearing it of insects as soon as he discovered them, and propping up the stem, that it might grow perfectly upright. he dug all round it, to loosen the earth, that the root might receive nourishment from the warmth of the sun and the moisture of the dews. no mother could nurse a child more tenderly in its infancy, than thomas did his tree. his brother william, however, pursued a very different conduct; for he loitered away all his time in the most idle and mischievous manner, one of his principal amusements being to throw stones at people as they passed. he kept company with all the idle boys in the neighbourhood, with whom he was continually fighting, and was seldom without either a black eye or a broken shin. his poor tree was neglected, and never thought of, till one day in the autumn, when, by chance, seeing his brother's tree loaded with the finest apples, and almost ready to break down with the weight, he ran to his own tree, not doubting but he should find it in the same pleasing condition. great indeed was his disappointment and surprise, when, instead of finding the tree loaded with excellent fruit, he beheld nothing but a few withered leaves, and branches covered with moss. he instantly went to his father, and complained of his partiality in giving him a tree that was worthless and barren, while his brother's produced the most luxuriant fruit. he therefore thought that his brother should at least give him one half of his apples. his father told him, that it was by no means reasonable, that the industrious should give up part of their labour to feed the idle. "if your tree," said he, "has produced you nothing, it is but a just reward of your indolence, since you see what the industry of your brother has gained him. your tree was equally full of blossoms, and grew in the same soil; but you paid no attention to the culture of it. your brother suffered no visible insect to remain on his tree; but you neglected that caution, and left them even to eat up the very buds. as i cannot bear to see even plants perish through neglect, i must now take this tree from you, and give it to your brother, whose care and attention may possibly restore it to its former vigour. the fruit it shall produce must be his property, and you must no longer consider yourself as having any right therein. however, you may go to my nursery, and there choose any other which you may like better, and try what you can do with it; but, if you neglect to take proper care of it, i shall also take that from you, and give it to your brother, as a reward for his superior industry and attention." this had the desired effect on william, who clearly perceived the justice and propriety of his father's reasoning, and instantly got into the nursery, to choose the most thriving apple-tree he could there meet with. his brother thomas assisted him in the culture of his tree, advising him in what manner to proceed; and william made the best use of his time, and the instructions he received from his brother. he left off all his mischievous tricks, forsook the company of idle boys, and applied himself cheerfully to work; and in autumn received the reward of his labour, his tree being then loaded with fruit. from this happy change in his conduct, he derived the advantage, not only of enriching himself with a plentiful crop of fruit, but also of getting rid of bad and pernicious habits. his father was so perfectly satisfied with his reformation, that the following season he gave him and his brother the produce of a small orchard, which they shared equally between them. [illustration] mischief its own punishment, exemplified in the history of william and harry. [illustration] mr. stevenson and his little son richard, as they were one fine day walking in the fields together, passed by the side of a garden, in which they saw a beautiful pear-tree loaded with fruit. richard cast a longing eye at it, and complained to his papa that he was very dry. on mr. stevenson's saying that he was dry also, but they must bear it with patience till they got home, richard pointed to the pear-tree, and begged his papa would let him go and get one; for, as the hedge was not very thick, he said he could easily get through, without being seen by any one. richard's father reminded him, that the garden and fruit were private property, and to take any thing from thence, without permission, was nothing less than being guilty of a robbery. he allowed that there might be a possibility of getting into the garden without being seen by the owner of it; but such a wicked action could not be concealed from him who sees every action of our lives, and who penetrates even to the very secrets of our hearts; and that is god. his son shook his head, and said, he was sensible of his error, and would no more think of committing what might be called a robbery. he recollected that parson jackson had told him the same thing before, but he had then forgotten it. at this instant a man started up from behind the hedge, which had before concealed him from their sight. this was an old man, the owner of the garden, who had heard every thing that had passed between mr. stevenson and his son. "be thankful to god, my child," said the old man, "that your father prevented you from getting into my garden with a view to deprive me of that which does not belong to you. you little thought, that at the foot of each tree is placed a trap to catch thieves, which you could not have escaped, and which might have lamed you for the rest of your life. i am, however, happy to find that you so readily listen to the first admonition of your father, and show such a fear of offending god. as you have behaved in so just and sensible a manner, you shall now, without any danger or trouble, partake of the fruit of my garden." he then went to the finest pear-tree, gave it a shake, and brought down near a hatful of fruit, which he immediately gave to richard. this civil old man could not be prevailed on to accept of any thing in return, though mr. stevenson pulled out his purse for that purpose. "i am sufficiently satisfied, sir," said he, "in thus obliging your son, and were i to accept of any thing, that satisfaction would be lost." mr. stevenson thanked him very kindly, and having shaken hands over the hedge, they parted; richard at the same time taking leave of the old man in a polite manner. little richard, having finished several of the pears, began to find himself at leisure to talk to his papa. "this is a very good old man," said he; "but would god have punished me, had i taken these pears without his leave?" "he certainly would," replied mr. stevenson; "for he never fails to reward good actions, and chastise those who commit evil. the good old man fully explained to you this matter, in telling you of the traps laid for thieves, into which you must have inevitably fallen, had you entered his garden in a clandestine manner. god orders every thing that passes upon earth, and directs events so as to reward good people for virtuous actions, and to punish the wicked for their crimes. in order to make this more clear to you, i will relate to you an affair which happened when i was a boy, and which i shall never forget." richard seemed very attentive to his father; and having said he should be very glad to hear his story, mr. stevenson thus proceeded:-"when i lived with my father, and was much about your age, we had two neighbours, between whose houses ours was situated, and their names were davis and johnson. mr. davis had a son named william, and mr. johnson one also of the name of harry. our gardens were at that time separated only by quickset hedges, so that it was easy to see into each others grounds. "it was too often the practice with william, when he found himself alone in his father's garden, to take pleasure in throwing stones over the hedges, without paying the least regard to the mischief they might do. mr. davis had frequently caught him at this dangerous sport, and never failed severely to reprimand him for it, threatening him with severe punishment, if he did not desist. "this child, unhappily, either knew not, or would not take the trouble to reflect, that we are not to do amiss, even when we are alone, for reasons i have already mentioned to you. his father being one day gone out, and therefore thinking that nobody could see him, or bring him to punishment, he filled his pockets with stones, and then began to fling them about at random. "mr. johnson happened to be in his garden at the same time, and his son harry with him. this boy was of much the same disposition as william, thinking there was no crime in committing any mischief, provided he were not discovered. his father had a gun charged, which he brought into the garden, in order to shoot the sparrows that made sad havoc among his cherries, and was sitting in a summer-house to watch them. "at this instant a servant came to acquaint him that a strange gentleman desired to speak with him, and was waiting in the parlour. he therefore put down the gun in the summer-house, and strictly ordered harry by no means to touch it; but he was no sooner gone, than this naughty son said to himself, that he could see no harm in playing a little with the gun; and therefore took it on his shoulder, and endeavoured to act the part of a soldier. "the muzzle of the gun happened to be pointed towards mr. davis's garden; and, just as he was in the midst of his military exercises, a stone thrown by william hit him directly in one of his eyes. the fright and pain together made harry drop the gun, which went off, and in a moment both gardens resounded with the most dismal shrieks and lamentations. harry had received a blow in the eye with a stone, and the whole charge had entered william's leg; the sad consequences of which were, the one lost his eye, and the other a leg." richard could not help pitying poor william and harry for their terrible misfortune; and mr. stevenson was not angry with his son for his tenderness. "it is true," said he "they were much to be pitied, and their parents still more, for having such vicious and disobedient children. yet it is probable, if god had not early punished these boys, they would have continued their mischievous practices as often as they should find themselves alone; but by this misfortune they learned to know that god publicly punishes all wickedness done in secret. this had the desired effect, as both ever after left off all kinds of mischief, and became prudent and sedate. certain it is, that an all-wise creator never chastises us but with a view to add to our happiness." richard was very much struck with this story, and said, he hoped he should never lose either a leg or an eye by such imprudent conduct. this interesting conversation was interrupted by their arrival at their own house; when richard hastened to find his brothers and sisters, to tell them the adventures of his walk, and the history of william and harry. [illustration] antony and augustus; or a rational education preferable to riches. [illustration] a very early friendship commenced between antony and augustus, who were nearly of an age; and, as they were neighbours, they were almost inseparable companions. the father of antony, whose name was lenox, possessed a very lucrative employment under government, and was besides possessed of a considerable fortune; but mr. littleton, the father of augustus, was not in such affluent circumstances; though he lived contentedly, and turned all his thoughts to the welfare and happiness of his son, in giving him a well-grounded education, which he thought might prove of more advantage to him than riches, or, at least, might amply supply the place of them. as soon as augustus was nine years of age, he was accustomed to bodily exercise, and his mind inured to study, which at once contributed to improve his health, strength, and understanding. being thus used to exercise and motion, he was healthy and robust; and being contented and happy in the affection of his parents, he enjoyed a tranquil cheerfulness, which much influenced those who enjoyed his company. antony was one of his happy companions, who was always at a loss for amusement when augustus was absent; and in that case, in order to fill up his time, he was continually eating without being hungry, drinking without being dry, and slumbering without being sleepy. this naturally brought on a weak habit of body, and frequent headaches. both parents ardently wished to see their children healthy and happy; but mr. lenox unfortunately pursued that object in a wrong channel, by bringing up his son, even from his cradle, in the most excessive delicacy. he was not suffered to lift himself a chair, whenever he had a mind to change his seat, but a servant was called for that purpose. he was dressed and undressed by other people, and even the cutting of his own victuals seemed a pain to him. while augustus, in a thin linen jacket, assisted his father to cultivate a small garden for their amusement, antony, in a rich velvet coat, was lolling in a coach, and paying morning visits with his mamma. if he went abroad to enjoy the air, and got out of the carriage but for a minute, his great coat was put on, and a handkerchief tied round his neck, to prevent his catching cold. thus accustomed to be humoured to excess, he wished for every thing he saw, or could think of; but his wish was no sooner obtained, than he became tired of it, and was constantly unhappy in the pursuit of new objects. as the servants had strict orders to obey him with implicit submission, he became so whimsical and imperious, that he was hated and despised by every one in the house, excepting his parents. augustus was his only companion who loved him, and it was upon that account he patiently put up with his humours. he was so perfectly master of his temper, that he would, at times, make him as good-humoured as himself. mr. lenox would sometimes ask augustus how he contrived to be always so merry; to which he one day answered, that his father had told him, that no person could be perfectly happy, unless they mixed some kind of employment with their pleasures. "i have frequently observed," continued augustus, "that the most tedious and dull days i experience are those in which i do no kind of work. it is properly blending exercise with amusement that keeps me in such good health and spirits. i fear neither the winds nor the rain, neither the heat of summer nor the cold of winter, and i have frequently dug up a whole plat in my garden before antony has quitted his pillow in the morning." mr. lenox felt the propriety of such conduct, and a sigh unavoidably escaped him. he then went to consult mr. littleton in what manner he should act, in order to make antony as hearty and robust as augustus. mr. littleton informed him in what manner he treated his son. "the powers of the body and mind," said he, "should be equally kept in exercise, unless we mean them to be unserviceable, as money buried in the ground would be to its owner. nothing can be more injurious to the health and happiness of children, than using them to excess of delicacy, and, under the idea of pleasing them, to indulge them in their whimsical and obstinate humours. the person who has been accustomed from his childhood to have his humours flattered, will be exposed to many vexatious disappointments. he will sigh after those things, the want or possession of which will equally make him miserable. i have, however, every reason to believe, that augustus will never be that man." mr. lenox saw the truth of these arguments, and determined to adopt the same plan for the treatment of his son. but it was now too late, for antony was fourteen years of age, and his mind and body so much enervated, that he could not bear the least fatiguing exertions. his mother, who was as weak as himself, begged of her husband not to tease their darling, and he was at last obliged to give way to her importunities, when antony again sunk into his former destructive effeminacy. the strength of his body declined, in proportion as his mind was degraded by ignorance. as soon as antony had entered his seventeenth year, his parents sent him to the university, intending to bring him up to the study of the law; and augustus being intended for the same profession, he accompanied him thither. augustus, in his different studies and pursuits, had never had any other instructor than his father; while antony had as many masters as there are different sciences, from whom he learned only a superficial education, by retaining little more than the terms used in the different branches he had studied. augustus, on the contrary, was like a garden, whose airy situation admits the rays of the sun to every part of it, and in which every seed, by a proper cultivation, advances rapidly to perfection. already well instructed, he still thirsted after further knowledge, and his diligence and good behaviour afforded a pattern for imitation to all his companions. the mildness of his temper, and his vivacity and sprightly humour, made his company at all times desirable; he was universally beloved, and every one was his friend. antony was at first happy of being in the same room with augustus; but his pride was soon hurt on seeing the preference that was given by every one to his friend, and he could not think of any longer submitting to so mortifying a distinction. he therefore found some frivolous excuse, and forsook the company of augustus. antony, having now nobody to advise or check him, gave loose to his vitiated taste, and wandered from pleasure to pleasure in search of happiness. it will be to little purpose to say, how often he blushed at his own conduct; but, being hardened by a repetition of his follies, he gradually fell into the grossest irregularities. to be short, he at last returned home with the seeds of a mortal distemper in his bosom, and, after languishing a few months, expired in the greatest agonies. some time after, augustus returned home to his parents, possessed of an equal stock of learning and prudence; his departure from the university being regretted both by his teachers and companions. it may easily be supposed, that his family received him with transports of joy. you know not, my little readers, how pleasing are those tender parental feelings, which arise from the prospect of seeing their children beloved and respected! his parents thought themselves the happiest people, and tears of joy filled their eyes when they beheld him. augustus had not been long at home, before a considerable employment in his profession was conferred on him, with the unanimous approbation of all who were acquainted with his character. this enabled him to gratify his generous desire of promoting the felicity of his friends, and a sense of their happiness added to his own. he was the comfort of his parents in the evening of their lives, and with interest repaid their attention and care of him in his childhood. an amiable wife, equally endued with sense, virtue, and beauty, who bore him children like himself, completed his happiness. in the characters of antony and augustus, we see the fatal consequences of giving way to folly and vice, and what a happy effect the contrary conduct has. antony fell a victim to the misguided indulgence of his parents, while augustus lived to be happy by the prudent management he received in his infancy. [illustration] the destructive consequences of dissipation and luxury. [illustration] on a fine evening, in the midst of summer, mr. drake and his son albert took a walk in some of the most agreeable environs of the city. the sky was clear, the air cool; and the purling streams, and gentle zyphyrs rustling in the trees, lulled the mind into an agreeable gloom. albert, enchanted with the natural beauties that surrounded him, could not help exclaiming, "what a lovely evening!" he pressed his father's hand, and, looking up to him, said, "you know not, papa, what thoughts rise in my heart!" he was silent for a moment, and then looked towards heaven, his eyes moistened with tears. "i thank god," said he, "for the happy moments he now permits me to enjoy! had i my wish, every one should taste the beauties of this evening as i do. were i the king of a large country, i would make my subjects perfectly happy." mr. drake embraced his son, and told him, that the benevolent wish he had just uttered came from a heart as generous as it was humane. "but would not your thoughts change with your fortune? are you certain, that in an exalted station you should preserve the sentiments which now animate you in that middling state, in which it has pleased heaven to place you?" albert was a little surprised that his father should ask such a question, for he had no idea that riches could bring with them cruelty and wickedness. mr. drake told him, that indeed was not always the case. "the world has produced fortunate persons," said he, "who have remembered their past distresses, and have always retained the most charitable ideas for the unfortunate; but we too often see, what is a disgrace to the human heart, that a change of fortune alters the most tender and sympathetic affections. while we ourselves labour under misfortunes, we look upon it as a duty incumbent on every man to assist us. should the hand of god relieve us, we then think that all his intentions in the preservation of the world are answered, and too often cease to remember those unfortunate wretches, who remain in the gulf from which we have been rescued. you may see an instance of this in the man who frequently comes to beg charity of me, whom i relieve with reluctance, and cannot but censure myself for so doing." albert told his father that he had frequently observed how coolly he put money into his hands, without speaking to him in that tender language, which he generally used to other poor people. he therefore begged his father would tell him what could be his reason for it. "i will tell you, my dear," said mr. drake, "what has been his conduct, and then leave you to judge how far i do right. mr. mason was a linen-draper in cheapside; and though the profits of his business were but moderate, yet a poor person never asked his charity in vain. this he viewed as his most pleasing extravagance, and he considered himself happy in the enjoyment of it, though he could not pursue this indulgence to the extent of his wishes. business one day called him on 'change, he heard a number of capital merchants talking together of vast cargoes, and the immense profits to be expected from them. 'ah!' said he to himself, 'how happy these people are! were i as rich, heaven knows, i should not make money my idol, for the poor should plentifully partake of my abundance.' "this man went home with a bosom full of ambitious thoughts; but his circumstances were too narrow to embrace his vast projects, as it required no small share of prudence, in the management of his affairs, to make every thing meet the end of the year. 'ah!' cried he, 'i shall never get forward, nor rise above the middling condition, in which i at present linger.' "in the midst of these gloomy thoughts, a paper inviting adventurers to purchase shares in the lottery was put into his hand. he seemed as if inspired by fortune, and caught the idea immediately. without considering the inconvenience to which his covetousness might reduce him, he hastened to the lottery-office, and there laid out four guineas. from this moment he waited with impatience for the drawing, nor could he find repose even at night on his pillow. he sometimes repented of having so foolishly hazarded what he could not well bear the loss of, and at other times he fancied he saw riches pouring in upon him from all quarters. at last the drawing began, and, in the midst of his hopes and fears, fortune favoured him with a prize of five thousand pounds. "having received the money, he thought of nothing else for several days; but when his imagination had cooled a little, he began to think what use he should make of it. he therefore increased his stock, extended his business, and, by care and assiduity in trade, soon doubled his capital. in less than ten years he became one of the most considerable men in the city, and hitherto he had punctually kept his promise, in being the friend and patron of the poor; for the sight of an unfortunate person always put him in mind of his former condition, and pleaded powerfully in behalf of the distressed. "as he now frequented gay company, he by degrees began to contract a habit of luxury and dissipation: he purchased a splendid country-house, with elegant gardens, and his life became a scene of uninterrupted pleasures and amusements. all this extravagance, however, soon convinced him, that he was considerably reducing his fortune; and his trade, which he had given up, to be the more at leisure for the enjoyment of his pleasures, no longer enabled him to repair it. besides, having been so long accustomed to put no restraint on his vanity and pride, he could not submit to the meanness of lessening his expenses. 'i shall always have enough for myself,' thought he, 'and let others take care of themselves.' "as his fortune decreased, so did his feelings for the distressed; and his heart grew callous to the cries of misery, as with indifference we hear the roaring tempest when sheltered from its fury. friends, whom he had till then supported, came as usual to implore his bounty, but he received them roughly, and forbid them his house. 'am i,' said he, 'to squander my fortune upon you? do as i have done, and get one for yourselves.' "his poor unhappy mother from whom he had taken half the pension he used to allow her, came to beg a corner in any part of his house, where she might finish her few remaining days; but he was so cruel as to refuse her request, and with the utmost indifference saw her perish for want. the measure of his crimes, however, was now nearly filled. his wealth was soon exhausted in debaucheries and other excesses, and he had neither the inclination nor ability to return to trade. misery soon overtook him, and brought him to that state in which you now see him. he begs his bread from door to door, an object of contempt and detestation to all honest people, and a just example of the indignation of the almighty." albert told his father, that if fortune made men so wicked and miserable, he wished to remain as he was, above pity, and secure from contempt. "think often, my dear child," said his father to him, "of this story, and learn from this example, that no true happiness can be enjoyed, unless we feel for the misfortunes of others. it is the rich man's duty to relieve the distresses of the poor; and in this more solid pleasure is found, than can be expected from the enervating excesses of luxury and pomp." the sun was now sinking beneath the horizon, and his parting beams reflected a lovely glow upon the clouds, which seemed to form a purple curtain round his bed. the air, freshened by the approach of evening, breathed an agreeable calm; and the feathered inhabitants of the grove sung their farewell song. the wind rustling among the trees, added a gentle murmur to the concert, and every thing seemed to inspire joy and happiness, while albert and his father returned to their house with thoughtful and pensive steps. [illustration] william and amelia. [illustration] in a pleasant village, at some distance from the metropolis, lived lord and lady russel, who had brought up an orphan, named william, from his infancy; and had a stranger to the family seen in what a tender manner he was treated, he would have supposed him to be their son. this amiable couple had only one child living, a daughter, named amelia, who was nearly of the same age with william, and the lady was pleased to see that the two children had something beyond a common attachment for each other. william and amelia were one fine summer morning sauntering in the orchard with their little friend charlotte, whose parents lived in the neighbourhood. of the little misses, amelia was the youngest, and not quite eight years of age. they were walking arm and arm, and humming over a pretty song, then fashionable in the village collection of ballads. at the same time william was walking before them, at some little distance, amusing himself with a shepherd's pipe. while amelia and charlotte were thus rambling about, they cast their eyes on some beautiful apples that hung on a fine tree, from which all the fruit had been supposed to be gathered; but the branches had hidden some from view, and in course had escaped the notice of the gatherers. the beautiful vermilion with which these apples were tinged, and which the leaves could not entirely hide, seemingly invited the hand to come and take them. william instantly climbed the tree they were admiring, and threw down as many apples as he could reach, while the ladies below held their aprons to catch them as they fell. chance directed it, that two or three, which were considered as the finest, fell into the apron of charlotte, who was much pleased with this accidental distribution, as she might with reason have been, had a premeditated preference been the cause of it; for william was in reality the politest and prettiest little fellow in the village. charlotte, with joy and triumph in her eyes, thus addressed herself to amelia: "only see how fine and large my apples are, while yours are nothing to compare to them!" amelia was very much displeased with these words; she hung down her head, and putting on a serious countenance, remained silent during the remainder of the walk. william, by a hundred assiduities, endeavoured to recover amelia's cheerfulness, again to spread a smile on her clouded countenance, and make her renew her usual pleasing prattle. as soon as they arrived near home, charlotte took her leave. little william then addressed his sister, for by that tender name he always called her, and asked her why she seemed so angry with him. "certainly," said he, "you cannot be angry at charlotte having her share of the apples. you very well know that i always loved you best, and therefore endeavoured to throw into your apron those apples, which, by chance, fell into charlotte's. you must be sensible, that i could not afterwards take them from her. besides, i thought you of too generous a disposition to take notice of such trifles. be assured, the first opportunity that shall offer, i will give you a convincing proof that i had no design to vex you, whatever you may at present think of my intentions." "very pretty, indeed, mr. william!" replied amelia, with a look of uneasiness and disdain. "pray who told you that i was vexed? suppose miss charlotte's apples had been ten times finer than mine, would that be any consideration to me? you very well know, sir, that i am no glutton; neither should i have taken any notice of the preference you showed her, had it not been for that saucy little creature's looks. i never wish to see her more: and, as for you, fall down on your knees this instant, or i never will forgive you while i live." little william could not think of submitting to such an indignity, as that would be confessing a fault, of which he was not guilty, and therefore now stood more upright than before. "i am no story-teller, miss amelia," said he, "and therefore it is very wrong in you not to believe what i so positively affirm; for i certainly had no design to vex you." "very wrong in me, sir!" replied amelia. "this is pretty indeed! but you need not thus affront me, because miss charlotte is your favourite!" so saying, and bestowing a contemptuous curtsy on him, she left him with an affected air of scorn and contempt. dinner being now ready, they sat down at table, but pouted at each other all the time it lasted. amelia would not once drink, in order to avoid saying, "your good health, william;" and william, on his part, was so vexed at her treatment of him, that he was determined not to give up the point. amelia, however, could not help sometimes stealing a glance at william, and, from a corner of her eye, watch all his motions. as it happened, one of these sly glances met the eye of william, who was equally attentive to watch all the emotions of amelia, without wishing to be observed. their eyes thus meeting, she instantly turned hers away to another object; and as william attributed this to contempt, which in reality it was not, he affected much indifference, and continued eating with the most apparent composure. as soon as the cloth was removed, and the wine and fruit put on the table, poor amelia, being sadly out of temper at the indifference she experienced from william, made a disrespectful answer to a question put to her by her mamma, and, for a second offence of the same nature, was ordered to retire from table. she obeyed, and bursting into a flood of tears, instantly withdrew, without caring whither she went. however, it so happened that the garden door was open; she therefore flew down the walk, and went into the arbour, in order there, in secret, to vent her grief. here she cried most lamentably; and soon repented of her quarrelling with william, who constantly, whenever she happened to get into disgrace with her mamma, would not only weep with her, but endeavour to bring about a reconciliation, which he never failed to accomplish. though william continued at table, he could not help feeling for the disgrace of amelia. he had fixed his eye on two peaches, and endeavoured to contrive means of getting them into his pocket, in order to convey them to amelia, whom he knew he should find somewhere in the garden, and he could easily make an excuse to go thither; yet he was fearful of having his intentions discovered. he pushed back his chair, then brought it forwards several times, and was continually looking down, as if for something on the carpet. "pretty little cã¦sar! sweet pompey!" cried he, speaking to two dogs then in the room. at this time he held a peach in his hand, which he meant to slip into his pocket as soon as he could discover the eyes of my lord and lady attracted by any other object. "only see, papa and mamma," continued he, "how prettily they are playing!" his lordship replied, that they would not eat one another, he would answer for it; and having just looked at them, put himself into his former position. thus poor william, who thought he was sure of then pocketing the peach, was sadly disappointed, and obliged to replace it on the table. these motions, however, were observed by lady russel, who conjectured what were his intentions. she therefore for some time enjoyed the poor fellow's embarrassments, and made his lordship acquainted with it by looks and dumb motions. william, who had no idea that his scheme was suspected, being fearful of trying the same stratagem twice, instantly thought of another expedient. he took a peach, and placed it in the hollow of his hands both put together, after which he conducted it to his mouth, and made believe as though he was really eating it. then, while with his left hand he found means to clap his peach into a cavity he had previously hollowed in the napkin on his knees, he put his right hand out to reach the other, which he disposed of in the same manner. in a few minutes my lord and lady forgot to watch the motions of william, and entered into conversation on various subjects. he therefore thought this a proper opportunity to get away, rose up from table with both peaches in the napkin, and began to imitate the mewing of a cat, which a young shepherd's boy had lately taught him. his view in this was to engage the attention of cã¦sar and pompey, in which he succeeded, as they both got up, and jumped about the room. lady russel was a little angry with him for making such a noise, and told him, if he wanted to make such a mewing as that, the garden was the most proper place. william pretended to be very much confused at this reproof, though the consequence of it was the very thing he wanted. he then instantly ran up to cã¦sar, "see, mamma," said william, "he wants to bite pompey!" and as he turned, he dexterously slipped the napkin into his pocket, and pretended to run after cã¦sar, to punish him. the dog ran towards the door amelia had left open when she went into the garden, and away went william in pursuit of her. lady russel called william back, and asked him where he was going. "my dear mamma," said he, "if you please, i will take a turn in the garden, and i hope you will not refuse me that favour." as lady russel did not immediately answer him, he lowered his voice and spoke in a more suppliant manner. at last, having obtained her permission, away he ran with so much haste, that his foot slipped, and down he fell; but, luckily, neither he nor the peaches were hurt. after searching round the garden for his sister, he at last found her in the arbour, sitting in an attitude of sorrow. she was exceedingly unhappy to think she had grieved the three best friends she had, her worthy parents and her dear william. "my sweetest amelia," said the little fellow, falling on his knees at the same time, "let us be friends. i would freely ask forgiveness for my fault, had i really intended to displease you. if you will ask my pardon, i will ask yours also. my pretty amelia, let us be friends. here are two nice peaches, which i could not think of eating while you were not present to partake of them." "ah, my dearest billy," said amelia, squeezing his hand while she spoke, and weeping on his shoulder, "what a sweet good-tempered little fellow you are! certainly," continued she, sobbing while she spoke, "those that are friends to us in our misfortunes are truly valuable. it was very wrong in me to be so vexed, as i was this morning, about the loss of a few apples. it was the insulting look that miss charlotte gave me that was the cause of it; but i will think of her no more. will you forgive me?" added she, wiping off the tears she had let fall on william's hand. "i confess that i sometimes love to plague you; but keep your peaches, for i cannot think of eating them." "as to plaguing me, sister," answered william, "you may do that as often as you like; but, i assure you, nobody shall do so but yourself: as to the peaches, i most certainly will not eat them. i have already told you so, and my word is like the law of the medes and persians, which altereth not." "for the very same reason," said amelia, "i shall not eat them," and immediately threw them both over the garden wall; for, besides her having said she would not eat them, she could not bear the thought of receiving a bribe to reconcile a quarrel. amelia's next consideration was, how to make it up with her mamma; and she said she should be happy indeed, if she would but permit her to appear before her, and ask her pardon. the generous little william no sooner heard these words, than he promised to settle that business, and away he instantly ran; but before he had taken many steps, he stopped short, and, turning round, said, "i will tell mamma, that it was i who made you anger her, by having vexed you in the morning." little william succeeded beyond his expectations, and all parties were soon reconciled to each other. a friendship so affectionate and generous is highly worthy of the imitation of all my juvenile readers. [illustration] the rival dogs. [illustration] a gentleman, whose name was howard, had brought up two pretty dogs from puppies. the one he called castor and the other pollux, hoping they would live in such friendship together as did the two illustrious heroes, after whom they were named. though they both came from the same mother, and, at the same time, had been fed together, and equally treated, yet it was soon seen that there was a great difference in their tempers and dispositions. castor was of a meek and tractable nature; but pollux was fierce and quarrelsome. when any person took notice of the generous castor, he would wag his tail, and jump about for joy, nor was he ever jealous on seeing more notice taken of his brother than of himself. the surly pollux, on the contrary, whenever mr. howard had him on his lap, would growl and grumble at castor if he attempted to come near him, or if any one took notice of him. when any of mr. howard's friends happened to come on a visit to his house, and bring their dogs along with them, the good-natured castor would immediately mix among them, and, in his way, endeavoured to amuse them. as he was by nature extremely pliant and engaging, they were all peace and harmony whenever it fell to his lot to entertain them. they would jump and play about the house, as boys do in school when they are left to themselves. the surly pollux acted a very different part. he would sneak into a corner, and bark all day at the strangers. if any one of them happened to pass too near him, he would then be sure to snarl and grin, and would often start up, and bite their ears or tails. if his master happened to take any notice of either of the strange dogs on account of their good-nature or handsomeness, pollux would howl as loud as if thieves were actually breaking into the house. this odious disposition of pollux did not escape the notice of mr. howard, who gradually began to neglect him; while castor, on the contrary, was every day increasing in his master's favour. as mr. howard was one day sitting at table, it suddenly entered his mind to make a more particular trial of the temper of these two dogs than he had hitherto done. both happened to be attending at table, but pollux was nearest his master; for the good-natured castor, in order to avoid strife and contention, always let him choose his place. mr. howard threw a nice piece of meat to pollux, which he devoured with much greediness. castor showed no signs of uneasiness at this, but patiently waited till his master should think it was his turn. soon afterwards, mr. howard threw castor a bone, with hardly any meat on it: but he took it without showing the least mark of discontent. the surly pollux, however, no sooner saw his brother engaged on a meatless bone, though he had feasted on his own delicious morsel, than he fell upon him, and took it from him. the good-natured castor made no opposition, but gave up the bone without a murmur. my readers must not from hence imagine that castor was a coward, or was in the least afraid of the strength of his brother; for he had lately given sufficient proof of his courage and resolution, in a battle he had been drawn into by pollux, whose intolerable moroseness had brought on him the vengeance of a neighbouring dog. pollux, after engaging his antagonist only a few minutes, though he had provoked the dog to try his strength, ran away like a coward; but castor, in order to cover the retreat of his brother, and without any one to take his part, fought him like a hero, and at last forced him to run away likewise. mr. howard was well acquainted with this circumstance; and, as he had before established his credit in point of courage, so was his master now fully convinced of his good temper, and the surly and cowardly disposition of his brother. "my good fellow," said mr. howard to castor, "it is but just that you should, at least, fare as well as your brother, who does not deserve as much as you." so saying, he cut off a large piece of nice meat and gave it to castor. pollux, seeing so nice a morsel given to his brother, accompanied with such cutting words from his master, began to growl and snarl. "since you have shown so much complaisance and generosity to your brother," continued mr. howard, still speaking to castor, "who in return treats you with ill manners, jealousy, and envy, you shall in future be my own dog, and be at liberty to range about the house at your pleasure: but your brother shall be confined in the yard. here," cried he, "bring a chain for pollux, and order the carpenter to make him a little house!" the order was instantly obeyed, and pollux was led to his kennel, while his brother rambled about at liberty. had pollux received so singular a mark of favour, he would undoubtedly have supported it with insolence; but castor was of a different disposition, and appeared very unhappy at his brother's disgrace. whenever any nice bit was given to castor, he would run away with it to pollux, wag his tail for joy, and invite him to partake of it. in short, the visited him every night in his house, and did every thing he could to amuse him under his sufferings. notwithstanding all these marks of tenderness, pollux always received his brother in the most surly manner, howling as though he were come to devour him, and treating him with every mark of disrespect. at length, rage and disappointment inflamed his blood, he pined away by degrees, and at last died a miserable spectacle. the moral of this history is so obvious, that there hardly appears a necessity to tell my young readers, that such a disposition as pollux's must render its possessor an object of contempt and abhorrence, while that of castor will ever be beloved and respected. [illustration] cleopatra; or the reformed little tyrant. [illustration] a pert little hussey, whose name was cleopatra, was continually teasing and commanding her poor brother. "so, you will not do what i bid you, mr. obstinacy?" she would often say to him: "come, come, sir, obey, or it shall be worse for you." if cleopatra's word might be taken for it, her brother did every thing wrong; but, on the contrary, whatever she thought of doing was the masterpiece of reason and sound sense. if he proposed any kind of diversion, she was sure to consider it as dull and insipid; but it often happened, that she would herself the next day recommend the same thing, and, having forgotten what she had said of it before, consider it as the most lively and entertaining. her brother was obliged to submit to her unaccountable whims and fancies, or else endure the most disagreeable lectures a little female tongue could utter. if ever he presumed to be so hardy as to reason with her on her strange conduct, instant destruction to his playthings were the inevitable consequence of it. her parents saw with regret this strange and tyrannical disposition of their daughter, and in vain did every thing they could think of to break her of it. her mother, in particular, continually enforced on her mind, that such children never procured the esteem of others; and that a girl, who set up her own opinion against that of every one else, would soon become intolerable and insupportable to all her acquaintance. this prudent advice, however, made no impression on her stubborn heart; and her brother, wearied out by her caprice and tyranny, began to have very little affection for her. it one day happened that a gentleman of a free and open temper, dined at their house. he could not help observing with what a haughty air she treated her poor brother, and, indeed, every other person in the room. at first, the rules of politeness kept him from saying any thing; but at last, tired out with her impertinence, he began addressing his discourse to her mamma in the following manner: "i was lately in france, and, as i was fond of being present at the soldiers' exercises, i used to go as often as i could, to see their manoeuvres on the parade, nearly in the same manner as they do here at st. james's. among the soldiers there were many i observed with whiskers, which gave them a very fierce and soldier-like look. now, had i a child like your cleopatra, i would instantly give her a soldier's uniform, and put her on a pair of whiskers, when she might, with rather more propriety than at present, act the part of a commander." cleopatra heard this, and stood covered with confusion; she could not help blushing, and was unable to conceal her tears. however, this reproach perfectly reformed her, and she became sensible how unbecoming was a tyrannizing temper. it has been observed, that to be sensible of our errors is half the work of reformation. so it happened with cleopatra, who with the assistance of her mother's prudent counsels, became an amiable girl. her reformation was a credit to her; and it is much to be wished that all young ladies, who take no pains to conquer their passions, would at last imitate cleopatra, and wish to avoid being told, that a soldier's dress and a pair of whiskers would better become them than nice cambric frocks and silk slips. had cleopatra attended to the advice of her parents, and not have imagined that greatness consists in impertinence, she would have been happy much sooner than she was. [illustration] the passionate boy. [illustration] young frederick had naturally a noble soul, elevated thoughts, and generous notions. his turn of mind was lively, his imagination strong and quick, and his temper cheerful and pleasing. indeed, the elegance of his person, and his behaviour and accomplishments, gained him the respect of every one; but, notwithstanding all these amiable qualities, he had one unhappy defect, which was that of giving way too readily to the most violent emotions of passion. it would frequently happen that, while he was amusing himself in the circle of his playmates, the most trifling contradiction would ruffle his temper, and fill him with the highest degree of rage and fury, little short of a state of madness. as he happened to be one day walking about his chamber, and meditating on the necessary preparations for a treat his father had permitted him to give his sister, his dear friend and favourite, marcus, came to him, to advise with him on that business. frederick, being lost in thought, saw not his friend, who therefore having spoken to him in vain, drew nearer to him, and began to pull him by the sleeve. frederick, angry, and out of patience with these interruptions, suddenly turned round, and gave marcus such a push, that he sent him reeling across the room, and he at last fell against the wainscot. marcus lay motionless on the floor, without the least appearance of life; for, in his fall, he had struck his head against something which had given him a deep and terrible wound, from which issued a great quantity of blood. how shall we describe the situation of poor frederick, who loved his friend tenderly, and for whom he would, on occasion, have sacrificed his life? frederick fell down beside him, crying out most lamentably, "he is dead! he is dead! i have killed my dear friend marcus!" so great were his fright and consternation, that he had no idea of calling for assistance, but lay by his side, uttering the most dismal groans. happily, however, his father heard him, and, instantly running in, took up marcus in his arms. he called for some sugar to stop the bleeding of the wound, and having applied some salts to his nose, and some water to his temples, they brought him a little to himself. frederick was transported with joy when he perceived symptoms of life in his friend; but the fear of relapse kept him in the greatest anxiety. they immediately sent for a surgeon, who, as soon as he arrived, searched the wound. he found it was not in the temple, but so very close to it, that the tenth part of an inch nearer would probably have made the wound dangerous indeed, if not mortal. marcus, being carried home, soon became delirious, and frederick could not be persuaded to leave him. he sat down by the side of his poor friend, wholly absorbed in silence. marcus, while he remained in that delirious state, frequently pronounced the name of frederick. "my dear frederick," he would sometimes say, "what could i have done to deserve being treated in this manner? yet, i am sure, you cannot be less unhappy than myself, when you reflect you wounded me without a cause. however, i would not wish your generous nature should be grieved. let us forgive each other; i for vexing you, and you for wounding me." in this manner did marcus talk, without being sensible that frederick was near him, though he held him by the hand at the same time. every word, thus pronounced, in which there could be neither flattery nor deceit, went to the heart of the afflicted frederick, and rendered his grief almost insupportable. in ten days time, however, it pleased god to abate the fever, and he was enabled to get up, to the great joy of his parents; but how can we express the feelings of frederick on this happy occasion! that task must be left for those who may have unfortunately been in a similar situation; his joy now was undoubtedly as great as his sorrow had been. marcus at last got perfectly well, and frederick, in consequence, recovered his former cheerfulness and good humour. he now stood in need of no other lesson, than the sorrowful event that had lately taken place, to break himself of that violence of temper, to which he had been so long a slave. in a little time, no appearance of the wound remained, excepting a small scar near his temple, which frederick could never look at without some emotion, even after they were both grown up to manhood. indeed, it ever afterwards was considered as a seal of that friendship, which they never lost sight of. [illustration] caroline; or, a lesson to cure vanity. [illustration] a plain white frock had hitherto been the only dress of caroline; silver buckles in her red morocco shoes; and her ebon hair, which had never felt the torturing iron, flowed upon her shoulders in graceful ringlets, now and then disturbed by the gentle winds. being one day in company with some little girls, who, though no older than herself, were dressed in all the empty parade of fashion, the glare and glitter of those fine clothes raised in her heart a desire she had never before felt. as soon as she got home, "my dear mamma," said she, "i have this afternoon seen miss flippant and her two sisters, whom you very well know. the eldest is not older than myself, and yet they were all dressed in the most elegant manner. their parents must certainly have great pleasure in seeing them so finely dressed; and, as they are not richer than you, do, my dear mamma, let me have a fine silk slip, embroidered shoes like theirs, and let my hair be dressed by mr. frizzle, who is said to be a very capital man in his profession!" her mother replied, that she would have no objection to gratify her wishes, provided it would add to her happiness; but she was rather fearful it might have a contrary effect. as miss caroline could not give in to this mode of thinking, she requested her mamma to explain her reasons for what she had said. "because," said her mother, "you will be in continual fear of spotting your silk slip, and even rumpling it whenever you wear it. a dress like that of miss flippant will require the utmost care and attention to preserve it from accidents; for a single spot will spoil its beauty, and you very well know there is no washing of silks. however extensive my fortune may be, i assure you, it is not sufficient to purchase you silk gowns as often as you would wish to have them." miss charlotte considered these arguments as very trifling, and promised to give her mamma no uneasiness as to her carelessness in wearing her fine clothes. though her mamma consented to let her be dressed in the manner she requested, yet she desired her to remember the hints she had given her of the vexations to which her vanity would expose her. miss caroline, on whom this good advice had no effect, lost not a moment in destroying all the pleasure and enjoyment of her infancy. her hair, which before hung down in careless ringlets, was now twisted up in paper, and squeezed between a burning pair of tongs; that fine jet, which had hitherto so happily set off the whiteness of her forehead, was lost under a clod of powder and pomatum. in a few days the mantua-maker arrived with a fine slip of pea-green taffety, with fine pink trimmings, and a pair of shoes, elegantly worked to answer the slip. the sight of them gave infinite pleasure to caroline; but it was easily to be perceived, when she had them on, that her limbs were under great restraint, and her motions had lost their accustomed ease and freedom. that innocence and candour, which used to adorn her lovely countenance, began to be lost amidst the profusion of flowers, silks, gauzes, and ribands. the novelty, however, of her appearance quite enchanted her. her eyes, with uncommon eagerness, wandered over every part of her dress, and were seldom removed, unless to take a general survey of the whole in a pier glass. she prevailed on her mamma to let her send cards of invitation to all her acquaintances, in order to enjoy the inexpressible pleasure of being gazed at. as soon as they were met, she would walk backwards and forwards before them, like a peacock, and seemed to consider herself as the empress of the world, and they as her vassals. all this triumph and consequence, however, met with many mortifying circumstances. the children who lived near her were one day permitted to ramble about the fields, when caroline accompanied them, and led the way. what first attracted their attention was a beautiful meadow, enamelled with a variety of charming flowers; and butterflies, whose wings were of various colours, hovered over its surface. the little ladies amused themselves with hunting these butterflies, which they dexterously caught without hurting them; and, as soon as they had examined their beauties, let them fly again. of the flowers that sprung beneath their feet they made nosegays, formed in the prettiest taste. though pride would not at first permit miss caroline to partake of these mean amusements, yet she at last wanted to share in the diversion; but they told her that the ground might be damp, which would infallibly stain her shoes, and hurt her silk slip. they had discovered her intention in thus bringing them together, which was only to show her fine clothes, and they were therefore resolved to mortify her vanity. miss caroline was of course under the necessity of being solitary and inactive, while her companions sported on the grass, without fear of incommoding themselves. the pleasure she had lately taken in viewing her fine slip and shoes was, at this moment, but a poor compensation for the mirth and merriment she thereby lost. on one side of the meadow grew a fine grove of trees, which resounded with the various notes of innumerable birds, and which seemed to invite every one that passed that way to retire thither, and partake of the indulgences of the shade. the little maidens entered this grove, jumping and sporting, without fearing any injury to their clothes. miss caroline would have followed them, but they advised her not, telling her, that the bushes would certainly tear her fine trimmings. she plainly saw that her friends, who were joyously sporting among the trees, were making themselves merry at her expense, and therefore grew peevish and ill-humoured. the youngest of her visitors, however, had some sort of compassion on her. she had just discovered a corner, where a quantity of fine wild strawberries grew, when she called to miss caroline, and invited her to eat part of them. this she readily attempted; but no sooner had she entered the grove, than she was obliged to call out for help. hereupon the children all gathered to the spot, and found poor caroline fastened by the gauze of her hat to a branch of white-thorn, from which she could not disengage herself. they immediately took out the pins that fastened her hat; but, to add to her misfortunes, as her hair, which had been frizzed with so much labour, was also entangled with the branch of white-thorn, it cost her almost a whole lock before she could be set at liberty. thus, in an instant, was all the boasted superstructure of her head-dress put into a state of confusion. after what had passed, it cannot be difficult to suppose in what manner her playmates viewed this accident. instead of consolation, of which caroline stood in much need, they could not refrain laughing at the odd figure she made, and did actually torment her with a hundred witty jokes. after having put her a little into order, they quitted her in search of new amusements, and were soon seen at the top of a neighbouring hill. miss caroline found it very difficult to reach this hill; for her fine shoes, that were made very tight, in order to set off her feet the better, greatly retarded her speed. nor was this the only inconvenience; for her stays were drawn so close, that she could not properly breathe. she would very willingly have gone home to change her dress, in order to be more at ease; but she well knew that her friends would not give up their amusements to please her caprice. her playmates having reached the summit of the hill, enjoyed the beautiful prospect that surrounded them on all sides. on one hand were seen verdant meadows; on the other the riches of the harvest, with meandering streams that intersected the fields, and country seats and cottages scattered here and there. so grand a prospect could not fail of delighting them, and they danced about with joy; while poor caroline found herself obliged to remain below, overwhelmed with sorrow, not being able to get up the hill. in such a situation, she had leisure enough to make the most sorrowful reflections. "to what purpose," said she to herself, "am i dressed in these fine clothes? of what a deal of pleasure do they debar me; and do not all my present sufferings arise merely from the possession of them?" she was giving up her mind to these distressing thoughts, when she suddenly saw her friends come running down the hill, and all crying out together as they passed her. "run, run, caroline! there is a terrible storm behind the hill, and it is coming towards us: if you do not make haste, your fine silk slip will be nicely soused!" the fear of having her slip spoiled, recalled her strength; she forgot her weariness, pinched feet, and tight-laced waist, and made all the haste she could to get under cover. in spite of all her efforts, however, she could not run so fast as her companions, who were not incommoded by their dresses. every moment produced some obstacle to her speed; at one time by her hoop and flounces, in the narrow paths she had to pass through; at another, by her train, of which the furzes frequently took hold; and at others by mons. pomatum and powder's fine scaffold work about her head, on which the wind beat down the branches of such trees as she was obliged, in her progress home, to pass under. at last, down came the storm with great fury, and hail and rain, mixed, fell in torrents. all her companions were safe at home before it began; and none were exposed to its rage but poor caroline, who, indeed, got home at last, but in a most disastrous condition. she had left one of her fine shoes behind her in a large muddy hole, which in her precipitate flight, she had hurried over without observing; and, to fill up the measure of her misfortunes, just as she had got over the meadow, a sudden gust of wind made free with her hat, and blew it into a pond of stagnated and filthy water. so completely soaked was every thing she had on, and the heat and rain had so glued her linen to her, that it was with some difficulty they got her undressed; as to her silk slip, it indeed afforded a miserable spectacle of fallen pride and vanity. her mother, seeing her in tears, jocosely said to her, "my dear, shall i have another slip made up for you against to-morrow?"--"oh no, mamma," answered caroline, kissing her, "i am perfectly convinced, from experience, that fine clothes cannot add to the happiness of the wearer. let me again have my nice white frock, and no more powder and pomatum till i am at least ten years older; for i am ashamed of my folly and vanity." caroline soon appeared in her former dress, and with it she recovered her usual ease and freedom, looking more modest and pleasing than she ever did in her gaudy finery. her mamma did not regret the loss she had sustained in the wreck of the slip, fine shoes, and hat, since it produced the means of bringing her daughter back to reason and prudence. [illustration] arthur and adrian; or two heads better than one. [illustration] adrian had frequently heard his father say, that children had but little knowledge with respect to what was the most proper for them; and, that the greatest proof they could give of their wisdom, consisted in following the advice of people who had more age and experience. this was a kind of doctrine adrian did not understand, or at least would not, and therefore it is no wonder he forgot it. this wise and good father had allotted him and his brother arthur a convenient piece of ground, in order that each might be possessed of a little garden, and display his knowledge and industry in the cultivation of it. they had also leave to sow whatever seed they should think proper, and to transplant any tree they liked out of their father's garden into their own. arthur remembered those words of his father which his brother adrian had forgotten, and therefore went to consult their gardener, rufus. "pray tell me," said he, "what is now in season to sow in my garden, and in what manner i am to set about my business." the gardener hereupon gave him several roots and seeds, such as were properest for the season. arthur instantly ran and put them in the ground; and rufus very kindly not only assisted him in the work, but made him acquainted with many things necessary to be known. adrian, on the other hand, shrugged up his shoulders at his brother's industry, thinking he was taking much more pains than was necessary. rufus, not observing this contemptuous treatment, offered him likewise his assistance and instruction; but he refused it in a manner that sufficiently betrayed his vanity and ignorance. he then went into his father's garden, and took from thence a quantity of flowers, which he immediately transplanted into his own. the gardener took no notice of him, but left him to do as he liked. when adrian visited his garden the following morning, all the flowers he had planted hung down their heads, like so many mourners at a funeral, and, as he plainly saw, were in a dying state. he replaced them with others from his father's garden; but, on visiting them the next morning, he found them perishing like the former. this was a matter of great vexation to adrian, who consequently became soon disgusted with this kind of business. he had no idea of taking so much pains for the possession of a few flowers, and therefore gave it up as an unprofitable game. hence his piece of ground soon became a wilderness of weeds and thistles. as he was looking into his brother's garden, about the beginning of summer, he saw something of a red colour hanging near the ground, which, on examination, he found to be strawberries of a delicious flavour. "ah!" said he, "i should have planted strawberries in my garden." sometime afterwards, walking again in his brother's garden, he saw little berries of a milk-white colour, which hung down in clusters from the branches of a bush. upon examination, he found they were currants, which even the sight of was a feast. "ah!" said he, "i should have planted currants in my garden." the gardener then observed to him, that it was his own fault that his garden was not as productive as his brother's. "never, for the future," said rufus, "despise the instruction and assistance of any one, since you will find by experience, that _two heads are better than one_." [illustration] madam d'allone and her four pupils. [illustration] madam d'allone was the governess of four young ladies, emilia, harriot, lucy, and sophia, whom she loved with the tenderness of a mother. her principal wish was, that her pupils might be virtuous and happy, and that they might enjoy all the comforts of life with tranquillity. they each experienced an equal share of her indulgence, and each received the same treatment, either as to pardon for errors, or rewards, or punishments. her endeavours were crowned with the happiest success, and her four little girls became the sweetest children upon earth. they told each other of their faults, and as readily forgave offences; they shared in each other's joys, nor were they ever happy when separated. an unforeseen event, however, disturbed this happy tranquillity, just at the very moment they began to taste its charms, which served to convince them how necessary it was to be guided by their prudent governess. madam d'allone was obliged to leave her pupils for a little time, a family affair having made it necessary for her to visit france. she left them with much reluctance, even sacrificed her interest, in some measure, to the desire of speedily settling her affairs, and, in the course of a month, returned in safety to her little flock, who received her with the warmest expressions of joy; but the alteration she perceived in her children very much surprised and alarmed her. she saw it frequently happen, that if one asked the slightest favour of another, it was ill-naturedly refused, and from thence arose tumults and quarrels. that gaiety and cheerfulness, which had used to accompany all their sports and pastimes, were now changed to a gloomy perverseness; and instead of those tender expressions of love and friendship, which had constantly dwelt in all their conversations, nothing was now heard but perpetual jarrings and wranglings. if one proposed a walk in the garden, another would give some reason why she wished to remain in her chamber; and, in short, their only study seemed to be to thwart each other. it happened one day that, not contented with showing each other how much they delighted in perverseness, they mutually distressed themselves with reciprocal reproaches. madam d'allone beheld this scene with the greatest uneasiness, and could not help shedding tears on the occasion. she did not then think it prudent to say any thing to them, but retired to her chamber, in order there to think of the properest means of restoring peace and harmony among her unhappy pupils. while she was turning these afflicting thoughts in her mind, all the four young ladies entered her apartment with a peevish and uneasy look, each complaining of the ill-temper of the rest. there was not one but what charged the other three with being the cause of it, and all together begged their governess would, if possible, restore to them that happiness they once possessed. their governess put on a very serious countenance, and said, "i have observed, my pupils, that you endeavour to thwart each other, and thereby destroy your pleasures. in order, therefore, that no such thing may happen again, let each take up her corner in this room, if she choose it, and divert herself in what manner she pleases, provided she does not interfere with either of her sisters. you may immediately have recourse to this mode of recreation, as you have leave to play till night; but remember that neither of you stir from the corner in which i shall place you." the little maidens, who were no way displeased with this proposal, hastened to their different quarters, and began to amuse themselves each in her own way. sophia commenced a conversation with her doll, or rather told her many pretty little stories; but her doll had not the gift of speech, and consequently was no companion. she could not expect any entertainment from her sisters, as they were playing, each asunder, in their respective corners. lucy took her battledore and shuttlecock, but there was none to admire her dexterity; besides, she was not allowed to strike it across the room, as that would have been an invasion on one of her sister's territories. she could not expect that either of them would quit their amusements to oblige her. harriot was very fond of her old game of hunt the slipper; but what was she to do with the slipper by herself; she could only shove it from hand to hand. it was in vain to hope for such service from her sisters, as each was amusing herself in her assigned corner. emilia, who was a very skilful pretty housewife, was thinking how she might give her friends an entertainment, and of course sent out for many things to market; but there was at present nobody near, with whom she might consult on the occasion, for her sisters were amusing themselves each in her corner. every attempt they made to find some new amusement failed, and all supposed that a compromise would be most agreeable; but, as matters were carried so far, who was first to propose it? this each would have considered as a humiliating circumstance; they therefore kept their distance, and disdainfully continued in their solitude. the day at last closing, they returned to madam d'allone, and begged her to think of some other amusement for them, than the ineffectual one they had tried. "i am sorry, my children," said their governess, "to see you all so discontented. i know but of one way to make you happy, with which you yourselves were formerly acquainted, but which, it seems, you have forgotten. yet, if you wish once more to put it into practice, i can easily bring it to your recollections." they all answered together, as though with one voice, that they heartily wished to recollect it, and stood attentive while their governess was looking at them, in eager expectation to hear what she had to say. "what you have lost, or at least forgotten," replied madam d'allone, "is that mutual love and friendship which you once had for each other, and which every sister ought cheerfully to cherish. o! my dearest little friends, how have you contrived to forget this, and thereby make me and yourselves miserable?" having uttered these few words, which were interrupted by sighs, she stopped short, while tears of tenderness stole down her cheeks. the young ladies appeared much disconcerted, and struck dumb with sorrow and confusion. their governess held out her arms, and they all at once instantly rushed towards her. they sincerely promised that they would tenderly love each other for the future, and perfectly agree as they formerly had done. from this time, no idle peevishness troubled their harmonious intercourse: and, instead of bickerings and discontents among them, nothing was seen but mutual condescension, which delighted all who had the opportunity of being in their company. may this serve as a useful lesson to my youthful readers, how easy it is for them to promote or disturb their own happiness. [illustration] the bird's egg. [illustration] master gregory was fond of walking in a wood, which stood at a short distance from his father's house. the wood being young, the trees were consequently small, and placed very near to each other, with two or three paths between them. as he was one day walking up and down, in order to rest himself a little, he placed his back against a tree, whose stem was quite slender, and therefore all its branches shook as soon as it was touched. this rustling happened to frighten a little bird, who sprang from a neighbouring bush, and flew into another part of the wood. gregory was vexed to think he had disturbed the bird, and fixed his eyes upon the bush, in hopes of seeing it return. while he was thus attentively on the watch, he imagined he saw among the twisted branches something like a tuft of hay. as his curiosity was raised to know what it was, he went up close to the hedge, and found this tuft of hay was hollow, like a bowl. on putting aside the branches, he saw something like little balls within it, which were spotted, and of an oval shape. they lay close to each other, on something very soft. "bless me," said gregory, "this must be certainly what i have heard some people call a bird's nest, and the balls must be eggs. they are indeed less than our eggs, but then our hens are larger than these birds." he had some thoughts, at first, of taking away the whole nest; but, upon second consideration, he contented himself with taking only one of the eggs, with which he instantly ran home. in the midst of his haste, he met his sister. "see this little egg," said he to her, "i have just now found it in a nest, in which were five others." she desired to have it in her hand, examined it attentively, and then returned it to her brother. at last, they began rolling it up and down a table, just as they would a ball. one pushed it one way, and the other a different way, till at last they pushed it off the table, when it fell on the floor and broke. this set them a crying, and each mutually accused the other of being the cause of this sad disaster. their mamma, happening to hear them cry, came to inquire into the cause of it, when both began at once telling their sorrows; and, having heard their different stories, she took them affectionately by the hand, and led them to a tree, whose stately boughs afforded a pleasant shade to a verdant bank, on which they all sat down together. "my dear children," said their mamma, "make yourselves easy. you have broken the egg between you, and that, to be sure, is a misfortune; but it is of too trifling a nature to suffer it to make you unhappy. after all, gregory, there is some room of complaint against you, as it was an act of injustice to rob the poor bird of its egg. you must have seen how the hen places her eggs in a nest, on which she sits to warm and animate them. in about three weeks, from the eggs proceed chickens, which pierce the shell, and in a few days come and feed out of your hand. this egg, which you have just now broken, had you left it in the nest, would have become a sort of chick. the bird you saw fly out of the bush was probably the mother, who will, very likely, return again to see what mischief you have done her, and perhaps she will forsake it altogether, which they frequently do when disturbed. "though the loss is only a single egg, yet that perhaps will inform them that their habitation is discovered, when they have every thing to be afraid of from our violence. they guess, that when their little ones shall be hatched, those that robbed them of an egg, will return and seize upon their infant family. if this nest you have been robbing, for i cannot call it anything less than a robbery, should be on that account forsaken, i think you will be very sorry for it." gregory replied that it would indeed give him much uneasiness, and seemed very sorry that he had meddled with the egg. "but," said he to his mamma, "i had not the least thought of what you have been telling me, nor did i suppose there could be any harm in bringing it to my sister, for it was principally on that account that i took it." his mamma replied, that she readily believed him; for she told him she was sensible that he had too good a heart to wish to do mischief, merely for the sake of tormenting others. gregory was, indeed, a very good boy, and was as remarkable for his duty to his parents, his tender attachment to his sister, and his universal benevolence to every one. the little girl observed to her mamma, that the nest which her brother had shown her did not in any degree resemble the swallow's nests that were seen about the corners of the windows of some houses. "my dear," replied her mamma, "every nest is not alike, any more than every bird, some being great, and others little; some are never seen to perch on trees, while others are hardly ever out of them; some are bulky and inactive, others slim, and full of cunning and industry; the plumage of some are beautiful beyond description, with an amazing variety of colours, and others have a plain and homely appearance; some subsist on fruits, some feed upon insects, and many live by making a prey of and of devouring the smaller birds." here her little daughter exclaimed, "oh, what wicked creatures! i am sure i should think it no crime to destroy the nest of such unnatural birds."--"very true," replied her mamma, and there are many more of your way of thinking; and therefore these great birds, who live upon the smaller class, build their nests in places where they cannot be easily disturbed, such as in woods, in crevices of rocks, and in other places most unfrequented by men, or at heights beyond our reach. "since, therefore, my dear children, these birds are greatly different from each other, as well in size as in the mode of living, and in the variety of their plumage, it will naturally follow that their nests must also differ. the lark never perches on a tree, and sings only when mounting in the air, and builds her nest on the ground. the swallow builds about the roofs of houses, under what we call the eaves, and sometimes in the corners of windows. the owl, which flies abroad only in the night, seeks out deserted habitations, or some hollow trees, wherein to deposit her eggs; and the eagles, who soar above the clouds till absolutely out of sight, bring forth their young in the cliffs of craggy rocks. those birds, which so prettily sport round our houses, and hop from branch to branch, make their nests in the trees and hedges. those who sport on the water, and find their living therein, build their nests among the rushes that grow on the banks. "we will, one fine day, take a walk into the little valley that terminates our large meadow, and you will there see a number of these pretty creatures busy in selecting the materials of which they compose their nests. you will observe one employed in carrying off a wheaten straw, another with wool or feathers in its beak, another with a dried leaf, and perhaps with a little moss. you may frequently notice the swallow, on the borders of a limpid stream, moistening in the water a little bit of earth which he holds in his beak, and with this he builds his habitation; and, though the outside of its nest is formed of hard and durable materials, the inside is lined with the softest and warmest. there are even some birds, who pull off their own feathers to make up a comfortable bed, wherein to secure their young from every inclemency of the elements. "their nests are made large or small, in proportion to the number of eggs they are to contain. some birds hang up their nests by a kind of thread, which they have the skill to form of flax, of different sorts of weeds, and of the webs of spiders. others place it in the middle of a soft and gluey substance, to which they carefully stick many feathers. all birds seek retired and solitary places, and use every endeavour to make their nests strong and solid, to secure them from the attacks of enemies of various species. "it is in this kind of habitation they lay their eggs, where the mother, and at times the father, sits upon them, puts every thing within them into motion, and at last produce little creatures, who break through their shell, and come forth. "i doubt not but you have often seen a fly in winter, which appeared to have no life in it: yet, upon taking it into your hand, the warmth proceeding from it has brought it to life. it is nearly the same thing with birds, the perseverance of whose parents, in brooding upon their eggs, converts them into living creatures. "while the mother is sitting, the cock is her constant attendant, and amuses her with his music. when the young birds are hatched, the old ones endeavour to release them from the confinement of the egg. at this period their diligence is redoubled, they do everything to nourish and defend them, and are constantly employed in that interesting pursuit. no distance deters them from seeking their food, of which they make an equal distribution, every one receiving in his turn what they have been able to procure. so long as they continue young and helpless, they contrive to procure such food as is adapted to their delicacy; but as soon as they are grown stronger by age, they provide for them food of a more solid nature. "the pelican, which is a very large bird, is obliged to go a great distance for food for its young, and therefore nature has provided it with a sort of bag, which she fills with such food as she knows is most agreeable to the palate of her young ones. she warms what she procures, and by such means makes it fitter for their tender stomachs. "while they are thus acting the parental part, they seem to be forgetful of themselves, and attentive only to their little family. on the approach of either rain or tempests, they hasten to their nest, and cover it as well as they can with expanded wings, thereby keeping out the wind and water from hurting their infant brood. all their nights are employed in nourishing and keeping them warm. the most timorous among the feathered race, who will fly away on the least noise that approaches them, and tremble at the most trifling apprehensions of danger, become strangers to fear as soon as they have a young family to take care of, and are inspired with courage and intrepidity. we see an instance of this in the common hen, who, though in general a coward, no sooner becomes a parent, than she gives proofs of courage, and boldly stands forth in defence of her young. she will face the largest dog, and will not run even from a man, who shall attempt to rob her of her young. "in nearly a similar manner, the little birds endeavour to protect their infant family. when an enemy approaches, they will flutter round the nest, will seem to call out for assistance, will attack the invader, and pursue him. the mother will frequently prefer confining herself with them, to the pleasure of rambling through the woods, and will not quit her little progeny." here their mamma ended, and her two children promised they never would any more disturb those pretty feathered animals. they promised only to look at their nests, without being so cruel as to do them any harm. they said they would be satisfied with gazing on them, while employed in the delightful task of attending on their young, and comforting and caressing their unprotected offspring. "my dear children," said their mamma, "this is the conduct you ought to pursue. keep your resolutions, and i shall love you the more tenderly for it. do no injury to any creature, for he who made you made them also. take no delight in giving pain to the most insignificant part of the creation; but endeavour on all occasions to contribute to their happiness." [illustration] the covetous boy. [illustration] young samuel was the only son of a capital merchant, and was tenderly beloved by his father. he had by no means a bad heart, his countenance was pleasing, and his friends would all have been very fond of him, had he not shown, in every part of his conduct, a covetous propensity, that eclipsed all his accomplishments. his covetous disposition made him wish for every thing he saw others possessed of, and, even carried him to so great a length, that he would not share among his playmates any thing that he had, or even let them see it. it was with little samuel, as it generally is with every body else, that he lost more than he gained by his avarice. if any body gave him any sweetmeats, he would get into some private corner of the house and there swallow them, for fear any of his acquaintance should want part of them. his father, in order to cure him of this greedy disposition, used, while he was feasting in private, to give a double portion to his companions. he perceived this, and therefore left off hiding himself; but he no sooner fixed his eyes on any nicety, than he appeared ready to devour it at once; and pursued the hand of those that held it, as a vulture does its prey. from what has been already said, his father may be supposed to be much hurt at this conduct; and, in order to save himself as much vexation as possible, he ceased to give him any more niceties, or even have them within his house, so that they might not, at any rate, be within the reach of his voracious son. if samuel had a pleasing toy of any kind, he would never show it, but conceal himself in the enjoyment of it, without ever being happy. if he had any sort of fruit, he would not share it with his playmates, but devour it in private, even refusing any to those he happened to love most. consequently, none of his playmates would ever give him a part of what they had, and seemed always desirous of shunning his company. when he chanced to be engaged in a quarrel with any one, none appeared ready to take his part, not even when they knew him in the right; and, when he was in the wrong, every one joined against him. it one day happened, that a little boy observed him with an apple in his hand, and gave him by surprise a knock on the elbow, which made him let the apple fall. however, he picked it up hastily, and, in order to revenge himself on the boy, set off to catch him; but, in running, fell into a hog-pond, and had like to have been suffocated in the soil. he exerted all his power to get out, but to no effect: he endeavoured, but without succeeding, to prevail on his playmates to take hold of his hand and help him out. instead of assisting him, they laughed at his distress, and joyously danced about the pond, from which he could not relieve himself. they told him to ask the assistance of those to whom he had done the least kindness; but among all his playmates, there was not one whose help he could demand on that score. at last one of the boys, who took pity on him, came forward and gave him his hand, when he safely got out. samuel shook off the mud as well as he could, and then to show his gratitude to the little boy who had assisted him, he bit off about a quarter of the apple which caused this disaster, and which he never let go, and desired him to accept of it. but the boy, disgusted with so pitiful a gift, took the morsel, and then flung it in his face; and this served as a signal for all the boys to scout him. they pursued samuel quite home, hooting him all the way he went. this was the first time he had ever been hooted, and, as he did not want for feeling, it threw him into a depth of thought. he kept out of his father's presence, and confined himself to his room for some days. there he reasoned with himself on the cause that could produce such treatment from his playfellows. "for what reason," said he to himself, "could my little neighbour, who even lent me his hand to get out of the pond, throw the apple in my face, and set the boys to hoot me? why has he so many good friends, while i have not a single one?" on comparing the good boy's behaviour with his own, he soon discovered the reason. to become sensible of our errors is half the work of reformation. he recollected, that he had observed his friend was always ready to help every one; that whenever he had any fruit, confectionary, or the like, he seemed to feel more pleasure in sharing it with his companions, than in eating it himself, and had no kind of amusement in which he did not wish every one to bear a part. on this short review of circumstances, he plainly perceived wherein lay the difference between himself and this little good boy. he at last resolved to imitate him; and the next day, filling his pockets with fruit, he ran up to every boy he met and gave him a part of it; but he could not, on a sudden, give up _self_, having left a little in his pocket to eat at home in private. though it is evident that he had not yet completely conquered his avarice, yet he was not a little pleased with the advances he had made, since his companions were now, on their part, more generous to him; they showed themselves much more satisfied with his company, and admitted him a partner in all their little pastimes; they divided with him whatever they happened to have, and he always went home pleased and satisfied. soon after, he made a still greater progress in conquering his selfish disposition; for he pulled out of his pocket every thing he had, and divided it into as many shares as there were mouths to eat it, without reserving any more than an equal part for himself. indeed, it was the general opinion of the boys, that his own share was the least. this day he was much more satisfied than before, and went home gay and cheerful. by pursuing this conduct, he soon acquired a generous habit, and became liberal even to those who had nothing to give in return. he consequently acquired the love and esteem of his companions, who no sooner saw him than they ran to meet him with joyful countenances, and made his pleasure their own. thus, instead of being miserable and wretched through avarice, he became completely happy in the practice of generosity. his father was, undoubtedly, highly pleased with this change, and, tenderly embracing him, promised to refuse him nothing in future that might add to his pleasure and delight. samuel hereby learned in what true happiness consists. [illustration] dissipation the certain road to ruin. [illustration] a young man, whose name was humphries, was a dull companion, but an excellent workman. nothing ran in his head so much as the wish to become a master, but he had not money to gratify that wish. a merchant, however, who was well acquainted with his industry, lent him a hundred pounds, in order that he might open a shop in a proper style. it will from hence naturally follow, that humphries thought himself one of the happiest men in the world. he supposed his warehouse already filled with goods, he reckoned how many customers would crowd to buy them, and what would be his profits thereon. in the midst of these extravagant flights of fancy, he perceived an alehouse. "come," said he, on entering it, "i will indulge myself with spending one sixpence of this money." he hesitated, however, some few moments, about calling for punch, which was his favourite liquor, as his conscience loudly told him that his time for enjoyment ought to be at some distance, and not till he had paid his friend the money he had borrowed; that it would not be honest in him at present to expend a farthing of that money but in absolute necessaries. with these right ideas, he was nearly leaving the alehouse; but, bethinking himself, on the other hand, that, if he spent a sixpence of his money, he should still have a hundred pounds all but that sixpence, that such a sum was fully sufficient to set him up in trade, and that a single half-hour's industry would amply make amends for such a trifling pleasure as he wished then to enjoy; he called for his punch, and the first glass banished all his former qualms, little thinking that such a conduct would, by insensible degrees, open a way to his ruin. the next day he recollected the pleasures of the former glass, and found it easy to reconcile his conscience to the spending of another sixpence. he knew he should still have a hundred pounds left, all but one shilling. the love of liquor had at last completely conquered him, and every succeeding day he constantly returned to his favourite alehouse, and gradually increased his quantity, till he spent two shillings and sixpence at each sitting. here he seemed to make a stand; and every time he went he consoled himself, with saying, that he was spending only half-a-crown, and that he need not fear but he should have enough to carry on his trade. by this delusive way of reasoning, he silenced the prudent whispers of conscience, which would sometimes, in spite even of liquor, break in upon him, and remind him, that the proper use of money consisted in prudently applying every part of it to advantageous purposes. thus you see how the human mind is led into destructive extravagances by insensible degrees. industry had no longer any charms to allure him, being blindly persuaded, that the money he had borrowed would prove an inexhaustible source for all its extravagance. he was at last convinced, and his conviction suddenly fell on him like a clap of thunder that he could not recover the effects of his preceding dissipation, and that his generous benefactor would have little inclination to lend another hundred pounds to a man who had so shamefully abused his kindness in the first instance. entirely overcome with shame and confusion, his recourse to hard drinking, merely to quiet his conscience and reflections, served only to bring on his ruin the sooner. at last the fatal moment arrived, when, quite disgusted at the thoughts of industry, and becoming an object of horror even to himself, life became insupportable, and nothing presented themselves to him but scenes of poverty, desolation, and remorse. overtaken by despair, he fled from his country, and joined a gang of smugglers, whose ravages were dreaded through every town and village on the coast. heaven, however, did not permit these iniquities to have a long reign, for a disgraceful death soon put a period to the existence of this unhappy wretch. alas! had he listened to the first dictates of reason, and been wrought upon by the reproaches of his conscience, he might have been easy and happy in his situation, and have comfortably enjoyed the repose of a reputable old age, instead of coming to that deplorable end, which is the certain reward of vice and folly. [illustration] calumny and scandal great enemies to society. [illustration] though maria was of a tolerably good temper, yet she had contracted a most mischievous vice, and that was calumny. whenever she fancied she saw any thing amiss in others, though they were her most intimate friends, she seemed to take pleasure in publishing it to the world. the inexperience of her age frequently led her to ascribe indifferent actions to improper motives; and a single word, or volatility of disposition, was sufficient to raise in her breast the worst suspicions, with which, as soon as she had formed them, she would run into company, and there publish them as indubitable facts. as she was never at a loss for embellishments for her own fancy, in order to make her tales appear the more plausible, it may easily be supposed what mischief such a conduct was capable of producing. in a little time, all the families in the neighbourhood were set together by the ears, and the seeds of discord soon after sprung up amongst individuals; husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, masters and servants, commenced perpetual variance between each other. all on a sudden, mutual confidence seemed to be lost in every place where maria visited. matters at last were carried so far, that every one shut their doors against her, as they would have done against any one tainted with the plague; but neither hatred nor humiliation could reform a vice which custom and prejudice had so deeply rivetted in her heart. this glorious work of reformation was reserved for angelica, her cousin, who was the only one left that would keep her company, and who lived in hopes that she should in the end be able to convince her of her ruinous conduct. maria went one day to see her cousin, and entertained her as usual with a long recital of scandal against their common friends, though she well knew that such tales were disagreeable to angelica. "and now, my dear," said maria, having stopped for want of breath, "your turn is come to tell me something. you see such a variety of company, that you surely must be acquainted with a number of anecdotes." "my dear maria," answered angelica, "whenever i visit my friends, it is for the sake of enjoying their company; and i am too sensible of my own interest to forfeit their esteem by exposing their defects. indeed, i am sensible of so many errors in myself, and find it so difficult to correct them, that i have no leisure to contemplate the imperfections of others. having every reason to wish for their candour and indulgence, i readily grant them mine; and my attention is constantly turned to discover what is commendable in them, in order that i may make such perfections my own. before we presume to censure others, we ought to be certain that we have no faults ourselves. i cannot, therefore, but congratulate you on that faultless state, which i am so unhappy as to want. continue, my dear maria, this employment of a charitable censor, who would lead the world to virtue by exposing the deformity of vice, and you cannot fail of meeting your deserts." maria well knew how much she was the public object of aversion and disgust, and therefore could not help feeling the irony of angelica. from that day she began very seriously to reflect on the danger of her indiscretion; and, trembling at the recollection of those mischiefs she had caused, determined to prevent their progress. she found it difficult to throw off the custom she had long indulged of viewing things on the worst side of the question. at last, however, she became so perfectly reformed, that she studied only the pleasing parts of characters, and was never heard to speak ill of any one. maria became more and more convinced of the pernicious consequences that arise from exposing the faults of others, and began to feel the pleasing satisfaction of universal charity. my dear children, shun the vice of scandal, and, still more, being the authors of it, as you would plague, pestilence, and famine. [illustration] clarissa; or, the grateful orphan. [illustration] the amiable dorinda, soon after the misfortune of losing her husband, was so unhappy as to have a law-suit determined to her disadvantage, and thereby lost great part of her possessions, which were taken from her with the most unrelenting hand. this reduced her to the necessity of selling all her furniture, and the greater part of her jewels. the produce of these she placed in the hands of a banker, and retired to a village, where she could live much cheaper than in the metropolis, and with tolerable decency. she had not passed more than two months in this retreat, when information was brought her, that her banker had failed in trade, and consequently all her money was lost. judge what must be the horrors of her situation! sickness and grief had so debilitated her constitution, that she was unable to do any kind of work, whereby to procure a subsistence; and, after having passed her youth in ease and pleasure, she had no resources left in the evening of her life, but that of a workhouse, or common beggary. not one of her acquaintance would see her, nor condescend to take the least interest in her sufferings. being brought by her husband from a foreign country, she had no friends to cry to for assistance, except a distant relation, whom she had brought with her to england, and who, by her husband's credit, gained great riches; but this man's avarice was greater than his wealth, and there was little charity to be expected from a man who denied himself the common necessaries of life. afflicted virtue, however, always finds resource in the bounteous hands of providence, and she found the means of subsistence where she little expected it. in the former days of her prosperity, she had adopted a female orphan, whose name was clarissa, who now became her guardian and protector. clarissa had a grateful heart; she wept for the misfortunes of her friend, but she rejoiced at the thoughts of having an opportunity to show her gratitude. when dorinda mentioned her design of seeking refuge in a parish workhouse, "no," said clarissa, "you shall never leave me. from your tenderness i formerly received the indulgences of a beloved child; and, if in your prosperity i thought myself happy in the idea of being so nearly related to you by adoption, i still think it more so now i see you in adversity. thank heaven and your adoption for my comfortable situation! your maternal conduct was amply displayed in teaching me all the necessary female arts; and i am happy in the reflection, that i can make use of my knowledge for your sake. with health and courage, i fear not being able to procure for us both at least a comfortable living." this generous offer exceedingly affected the unhappy widow, who embraced clarissa, and with joy accepted of her proposal. this amiable girl, in her turn, became the mother, by adoption, of her former benefactress. not contented with feeding her with the produce of an unremitted labour, she consoled her in affliction, attended her in sickness, and endeavoured, by the tenderest methods, to soften the iron hand of fortune. for two years did the constancy and ardour of clarissa continue with unwearied attention, and her only happiness seemed to consist in promoting that of her friend. at the end of that period, when death relieved the unhappy dorinda from the cares and troubles of this life, she sincerely lamented her death, and bewailed it as a grievous misfortune. a short time after died also the relation of dorinda, of whom we have lately spoken, and who had shown himself so shamefully insensible to every claim of gratitude and kindred. as he could not carry his riches with him, he supposed it would be making some atonement for his ungenerous conduct, by leaving the injured dorinda every thing he possessed. alas! it came too late, for she was no more. the amiable dorinda had not, before her death, the consolation of knowing that such a change happened in her fortune, as in that case she might have easily turned it to the advantage of the generous clarissa. this large fortune, therefore, for want of an heir, fell to the king; but providence so directed it, that the generous conduct of the orphan to her benefactress reached the ears of the prince. "ah! then," said he, "she merits this inheritance! i renounce my right in her favour, and shall be happy in being her father and friend." this generous act of the king was applauded by the whole nation; and clarissa, having thus received so glorious a reward for her gratitude, employed it in the maintenance of orphans, such as she herself had been. it was the summit of her delight to inspire them with sentiments similar to those she herself possessed. [illustration] returning good for evil the noblest revenge. [illustration] "i will be revenged of him, that i will, and make him heartily repent it," said little philip to himself with a countenance quite red with anger. his mind was so engaged, that, as he walked along, he did not see his dear friend stephen, who happened at that instant to meet him, and consequently heard what he had said. "who is that," said stephen, "that you intend to be revenged on?" philip, as though awakened from a dream, stopped short, and, looking at his friend, soon resumed the smile that was natural to his countenance. "ah!" said he, "come with me, my friend, and you shall see whom i will be revenged on. i believe you remember my supple jack, a very pretty little cane, which my father gave me. you see it is now all in pieces. it was farmer robinson's son, who lives in yonder thatched cottage, that reduced it to this worthless state." stephen very coolly asked him what induced the farmer's son to break it. "i was walking very peaceably along," replied philip, "and was playing with my cane, by twisting it round my body. by some accident or other one of the two ends got out of my hand when i was opposite the gate just by the wooden bridge, and where the little miscreant had put down a pitcher full of water, which he was carrying home from the well. it so happened that my cane, in springing, overset the pitcher, but did not break it. he came up close to me, and began to call me names; when i assured him i did not intend any harm,--what i had done was by accident, and i was very sorry for it. without paying any regard to what i said, he instantly seized my supple jack, and twisted it here as you see; but i will make him heartily repent it." "to be sure," said stephen, "he is a very wicked boy, and he is already very properly punished for it, since nobody likes him, nor will do any thing for him. he finds it very difficult to get any companion to play with him, and, if he attempts to intrude himself into their company, they will all instantly leave him. to consider this properly, i think, should be sufficient revenge for you." "all this is true," replied philip, "but he has broken my cane. it was a present from my papa, and a very pretty cane you know it was. my father will perhaps ask me what has become of it; and, as he will suppose i have carelessly lost his present, he will probably be angry with me; of which this little saucy fellow will be the cause. i offered to fill his pitcher again, having knocked it down by accident--i will be revenged." "my dear friend," said stephen, "i think you will act better in not minding him, as your contempt will be the best punishment you can inflict upon him. he is not upon a level with you, and you may be assured that he will always be able to do more mischief to you than you would choose to do him. and now i think of it, i will tell you what happened to him not long since. "very unluckily for him, he chanced to see a bee hovering about a flower, which he caught, and was going to pull off its wings, out of sport, when the animal found means to sting him, and then flew in safety to the hive. the pain put him into a most furious passion, and, like you, he vowed to take a severe revenge. he accordingly procured a little hazel-stick, and thrust it through the hole into the bee-hive, twisting it about therein. by this means he killed several of the little animals; but, in an instant, all the swarm issued out, and, falling upon him, stung him in a thousand different places. you will naturally suppose that he uttered the most piercing cries, and rolled upon the ground in the excess of his agony. his father ran to him, but could not, without the greatest difficulty, put the bees to flight, after having stung him so severely that he was confined several days to his bed. "thus you see, he was not very successful in his pursuit of revenge. i would advise you, therefore, to pass over his insult, and leave others to punish him, without your taking any part of it. besides, he is a wicked boy, and much stronger than you are; so that your ability to obtain revenge may be doubtful." "i must own," replied philip, "that your advice seems very good. so come along with me, and i will go and tell my father the whole matter, and i think he will not be angry with me. it is not the cane that i value on any other consideration than that it was my father's present, and i would wish to convince him that i take care of every thing he gives me." he and his friend then went together, and philip told his father what had happened, who thanked stephen for the good advice he had given his son, and gave philip another cane, exactly like the first. a few days afterwards, philip saw this ill-natured boy let fall, as he was carrying home, a very heavy log of wood, which he could not get up again. philip ran to him, and replaced it on his shoulder. young robinson was quite ashamed at the thought of having received this kind of assistance from a youth he had treated so badly, and heartily repented of his behaviour. philip went home quite satisfied, to think he had assisted one he did not love, and from pure motives of tenderness and humanity. "this," said he, "is the noblest vengeance i could take, in returning good for evil." [illustration] grey hairs made happy. [illustration] opposite to the house where charlotte's parents lived, was a little opening, ornamented with a grass-plot, and overshaded by a venerable tree, commanding an extensive view before it. on this delightful spot charlotte used frequently to sit in her little chair, while employed in knitting stockings for her mamma. as she was one day thus employed, she saw a poor old man advancing very slowly towards her. his hair was as white as silver, and his back bent with age; he supported himself by a stick, and seemed to walk with great difficulty. "poor man," said charlotte, looking at him most tenderly, "he seems to be very much in pain, and perhaps is very poor, which are two dreadful evils!" she also saw a number of boys, who were following close behind this poor old man. they passed jokes upon his thread-bare coat, which had very long skirts, and short sleeves, contrary to the fashion of those days. his hat, which was quite rusty, did not escape their notice; his cheeks were hollow, and his body thin. these wicked boys no sooner saw him, than they all burst out a laughing. a stone lay in his way, which he did not perceive, and over it he stumbled, and had like to have fallen. this afforded them sport, and they laughed loudly; but it gave great pain to the poor old man, who uttered a deep sigh. "i once was as young as you are," said he to the boys, "but i did not laugh at the infirmities of age as you do. the day will come in which you will be old yourselves, and every day is bringing you forward to that period. you will then be sensible of the impropriety of your present conduct." having thus spoken, he endeavoured to hobble on again, and made a second stumble, when, in struggling to save himself from falling, he dropped his cane, and down he fell. on this, the wicked boys renewed their laugh, and highly enjoyed his misfortune. charlotte, who had seen every thing that had passed, could not help pitying the old man's situation, and, therefore, putting down her stockings on the chair, ran towards him, picked up the cane, and gave it to him, and then taking hold of his other arm, as if she had been as strong as a woman, advised him to lean upon her, and not mind any thing the boys might say to him. the poor old man, looking at her very earnestly, "sweet child," said he, "how good you are! this kindness makes me in a moment forget all the ill-behaviour of those naughty boys. may you ever be happy!"--they then walked on together; but the boys being probably made ashamed of their conduct by the behaviour of charlotte, followed the old man no farther. while the boys were turning about, one of them fell down also, and all the rest began laughing, as they had before done at the old man. he was very angry with them on that account, and, as soon as he got up, ran after his companions, pelting them with stones. he instantly became convinced how unjust it was to laugh at the distress of another, and formed a resolution, for the future, never to laugh at any person's pain. he followed the old man he had been laughing at, though at some distance, wishing for an opportunity to do him some favour, by way of atonement for what he had done. the good old man, in the mean time, by the kind assistance of charlotte, proceeded with slow, but sure steps. she asked him to stop and rest himself a little, and told him that her house was that before him. "pray stay," said she, "and sit a little under that large tree. my parents indeed are not at home, and therefore you will not be so well treated, yet it will be a little rest to you." the old man accepted charlotte's offer. she brought him out a chair, and then fetched some bread and cheese, and good small beer, which was all the pretty maid could get at. he thanked her very kindly, and then entered into conversation with her. "i find, my dear," said he, "you have parents, i doubt not but you love them, and they love you. they must be very happy, and may they always continue to be so!" "and pray, good old man," said charlotte, "i suppose you have got children."--"i had a son," replied he, "who lived in london, loved me tenderly, and frequently came to see me; but, alas! he is now dead, and i am left disconsolate. his widow, indeed, is rich; but she assumes the character of a lady, and thinks it beneath her to inquire whether i be dead or living, as she does not wish it to be known that her husband's father is a peasant." charlotte was much affected, and could hardly believe that such cruel people existed. "ah! certain i am," said she, "that my dear mother would not behave so cruelly." he then rose and thanked charlotte with a blessing; but she was determined not to leave him, till she had accompanied him a little way farther. as they walked on, they saw the little boy who had been following them; for he ran on some way before, and was then sitting on the grass. when they looked upon him, he cast his eyes downwards, got up after they had passed, and followed them again. charlotte observed him, but said nothing. she asked the old man if he lived alone; "no, little lady," answered he, "i have a cottage on the other side of that mead, seated in the middle of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. an old neighbour, whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my ground. he is an honest man, and i am perfectly easy in his society; but the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have i the happiness to see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me." these complaints touched the heart of charlotte, who told him, that she and her mother would come and see him. the sensibility and kindness of this little girl served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his mind the loss he had sustained in his son. tears came in his eyes, when he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and, instead of again putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped aside, and fell unnoticed by him or charlotte. the little boy, who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to pick it up, and gave it the old man, saying, "here, good old man, you dropped your handkerchief, and here it is."--"thank you, heartily, my little friend," said the old man. "here is a good natured lad, who does not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. you will certainly become an honest man. come both of you to my habitation, and i will give you some milk." they had no sooner reached the old man's cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had, which, though coarse, was good. they all sat down upon the grass, and made a comfortable repast. however, charlotte began to be afraid her parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being scolded by his mother. "this mother of yours," said the old man, "must be very cross to scold you."--"she is not always so," replied the boy; "but though she loves me, she makes me fear her."--"and your father?"--"oh, i scarcely knew him, he having been dead these four years."--"dead these four years!" interrupted the old man, and fixing his eyes attentively on the boy. "is it possible that i have some recollection of your features? can it be little francis?"--"yes, yes, francis is my name." for a few moments the old man stood motionless, and, with an altered voice, his eyes swimming with tears, cried out, "my dear francis, you do not recollect your grandfather! embrace me! you have got the very features of my son! my dearest child, you were not thinking of me! my son affectionately loved me, and his son will love me also. my old age will not be so miserable as i expected, and the evening of my life will not pass without some joy. i shall depart in peace!--but i forget that by detaining you, i may expose you to your mother's anger. go, my dear child, for i do not wish that my joy should cost you tears. go, love your mother, and obey her commands, even though you should not come and see me. come and see me if you can; but do not disobey or tell a story on any account." he then turned to charlotte, and said, though he then did not wish her to stay, for fear of offending her parents, yet he hoped she would come again. he then dismissed them, giving them a hearty blessing, and the two children walked away hand in hand. charlotte got home safe before her parents, who were not long after her, when she told them every thing that had passed, which furnished an agreeable conversation for the evening. the next day they all went to see the good old man, and afterwards frequently repeated their visits. francis also came to see his grandfather, who was rejoiced to hear him speak, and to receive his affectionate caresses. francis, on his side, was equally rejoiced, excepting when he did not meet with charlotte, for then he went home sorrowful and sad. the nearer francis arrived to manhood, the more his affections for charlotte increased; and accordingly, when he was old enough to marry, he would think of no other woman, though she was not rich. the old man lived to see them married and happy, and then finally closed his eyes in peace. [illustration] +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | in the contents, page 113 for the chapter titled "alfred and | | dorinda" has been changed to 118. | | | | page 20, double closing quotation mark has been added to the | | end of the chapter--ruin." | | | | page 25, closing quotation mark has been removed--munched | | alive. | | | | page 134, "about gardening. but" has been changed to "about | | gardening; but" | | | | page 159 punctuation after "contentedly" has been | | interpreted as a comma | | | | page 215 "ah!"' said he" has been changed to "ah!" said he" | | | | page 223 "down her cheeks the" has been changed to "down her | | cheeks. the" | | | | page 246 "treason, and been" has been changed to "reason, | | and been" | | | | page 266 "entored into conversation" has been changed to | | "entered into conversation" | | | | page 269 "and hear it is" has been changed to "and here it | | is" | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ the online distributed proofreading canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (this file was produced from images generously made available by the internet archive/american libraries.) [illustration: old french fairy tales comtesse de segur] [illustration: _rosalie saw before her eyes a tree of marvellous beauty_] old french fairy tales by comtesse de segur illustrated by virginia frances sterrett the penn publishing company philadelphia [illustration: copyright 1920 by the penn publishing co.] the stories blondine, bonne-biche, and beau-minon blondine 9 blondine lost 15 the forest of lilacs 23 blondine's awakening--beau-minon 25 bonne-biche 28 blondine's second awakening 33 the parrot 40 repentance 49 the tortoise 56 the journey and arrival 59 good little henry the poor sick mother 69 the crow, the cock, and the frog 73 the harvest 78 the vintage 81 the chase 84 the fishing 89 the plant of life 94 princess rosette the farm 103 rosette at the court of the king her father 109 family council 116 second day of the festival 119 third and last day of the festival 129 the little grey mouse the little house 143 the fairy detestable 150 the prince gracious 162 the tree in the rotunda 168 the casket 174 ourson the lark and the toad 182 birth and infancy of ourson 189 violette 192 the dream 204 the toad again 210 violette's sacrifice 218 the wild boar 223 the conflagration 232 the well 243 the farm--the castle--the forge 252 the sacrifice 258 the combat 263 the recompense 272 illustrations rosalie saw before her eyes a tree of marvellous beauty _frontispiece_ page leger meets the wicked princess, fourbette 11 she threw her arms around the neck of bonne-biche 35 blondine sees the castle of bonne-biche and beau-minon 50 they were three months passing through the forest 60 a large and deep river ran at the foot of the mountain 75 a part of the wall crumbled with a terrible noise 82 henry sprang upon the wolf's back 87 "what are you seeking, little one?" 94 she saw a man arrive in a laced hat and coat 105 they walked side by side during the rest of the evening 127 the fairy must give herself up to the queen and lose her power for eight days 138 rosalie never left the park which was surrounded by high walls 144 the broom was on fire at once, blazed up and burned her hands 152 agnella and passerose were dashed from cloud to cloud 185 "ah, ha! you are at last in my domain, little fool!" 211 violette takes refuge from the wild boar 224 violette consented willingly to pass the night in the forest 229 blondine bonne biche and beau minon the story of blondine, bonne-biche, and beau-minon blondine there was once a king called benin. he was good and all the world loved him; he was just and the wicked feared him. his wife, the queen doucette, was also good, and much beloved. this happy pair had a daughter called the princess blondine, because of her superb fair hair, and she was as amiable and charming as her father the king and her mother the queen. unfortunately, the poor queen died a short time after the birth of blondine and for a long time the king wept bitterly at his great loss. blondine was too young to understand her mother's death: she did not weep but continued to laugh, to play and to sleep peacefully. the king loved her tenderly and she loved him more than all the world. he gave his little daughter the most beautiful jewels, the finest bonbons, and the most rare and delicious fruits. blondine was very happy. one day it was announced to the king, that all his subjects demanded that he should marry again in order to have a son who should reign after him. he refused at first but finally yielded to the pressing desires of his people and said to his minister leger:-"my dear friend, my subjects wish me to marry again but my heart is so sad because of the death of my cherished queen doucette that i cannot undertake the task of seeking another wife. go, then, my good leger and find me a princess who will make my sweet blondine happy. go; i ask for nothing more. when you have found a perfect woman, you will demand her hand in marriage and conduct her to my court." leger set off immediately, visited many courts and saw innumerable princesses--ugly, humpbacked and wicked. at last he arrived at the kingdom of the monarch turbulent, who had a lovely daughter, bright, winning and apparently good. leger found her so charming, that he asked her hand in marriage for his king benin, without sufficiently inquiring into her real character. [illustration: _leger meets the wicked princess, fourbette_] turbulent was enchanted at the prospect of getting rid of his daughter who was jealous, proud and wicked. also, her presence often interfered with his excursions for pleasure, with the chase and with his various entertainments at the palace. without a moment's hesitation, he acceded to the prime minister's request, and he returned with the princess to the kingdom of the good king benin. the princess fourbette was accompanied by four thousand mules, loaded with the jewels and wardrobe of the charming bride. king benin had been apprised of their approach by a courier and went forward to receive the princess fourbette. he found her beautiful but he noted the absence of the mild and attractive expression of the poor lost doucette. when fourbette's eyes fell upon blondine her glance was so cruel, so wicked, that the poor child, who was now three years old, was greatly terrified and began to weep bitterly. "what is the matter?" said the king. "why does my sweet and sensible blondine weep like a bad little girl?" "papa! dear papa!" cried blondine, throwing herself into the arms of the king, "do not give me into the hands of this princess. i am afraid of her--her eyes are cruel!" the king was much surprised. he turned so suddenly towards the princess fourbette that she had no time to control herself and he perceived the terrible glance with which she regarded the little blondine. benin immediately resolved that blondine should be wholly separated from the new queen and remain as before under the exclusive protection of the nurse who had taken care of her and who loved her tenderly. the queen thus saw blondine rarely, and when she met her by chance she could not wholly dissimulate the hatred she felt for her. about a year from that time a daughter was born to the queen fourbette. she was named brunette, because of her dark hair which was black as the raven's wing. brunette was pretty but not so lovely as blondine; moreover she was as wicked as her mother. she detested blondine and played all sorts of cruel tricks upon her, bit her, pinched her, pulled her hair, broke her toys and tore her beautiful dresses. the good little blondine was never in a passion with her sister but always tried to make excuses for her conduct. "oh, papa!" she said to the king, "do not scold brunette; she is so little! she does not know that she grieves me when she breaks my toys! it is only in play that she bites me, pulls my hair and pinches me." the good king embraced his little daughter, and was silent but he knew that brunette was cruel and wicked; that blondine was too gentle and good to accuse her. he loved blondine, therefore, more and more from day to day and his heart grew cold to brunette. the ambitious queen fourbette saw all this clearly and hated intensely the innocent and gentle blondine. if she had not feared the rage of the king she would have made blondine the most wretched child in the world. benin had commanded that blondine should never be left alone with the queen. he was known to be just and good but he punished disobedience severely and the queen herself dared not defy his commands. blondine lost blondine grew to be seven years old and brunette three. the king had given blondine a charming little carriage drawn by ostriches, and a little coachman ten years of age, who was the nephew of her nurse. the little page, who was called gourmandinet, loved blondine tenderly. he had been her playmate from her birth and she had shown him a thousand acts of kindness. but gourmandinet had one terrible fault; he was a gourmand--was so fond of dainties and sweet things, that for a paper of bonbons he would commit almost any wicked action. blondine often said to him: "i love you dearly, gourmandinet, but i do not love to see you so greedy. i entreat you to correct this villainous fault which will make you despised by all the world." gourmandinet kissed her hand and promised to reform. but, alas! he continued to steal cakes from the kitchen and bonbons from the store-room. often, indeed, he was whipped for his disobedience and gluttony. the queen fourbette heard on every hand the reproaches lavished upon the page and she was cunning enough to think that she might make use of this weakness of gourmandinet and thus get rid of poor blondine. the garden in which blondine drove in her little carriage, drawn by ostriches and guided by her little coachman, gourmandinet, was separated by a grating from an immense and magnificent forest, called the forest of lilacs because during the whole year these lilacs were always covered with superb flowers. no one, however, entered these woods. it was well known that it was enchanted ground and that if you once entered there you could never hope to escape. gourmandinet knew the terrible secret of this forest. he had been severely forbidden ever to drive the carriage of blondine in that direction lest by some chance blondine might pass the grating and place her little feet on the enchanted ground. many times the king benin had sought to build a wall the entire length of the grating or to secure it in some way so as to make an entrance there impossible. but the workmen had no sooner laid the foundation than some unknown and invisible power raised the stones and they disappeared from sight. the queen fourbette now sought diligently to gain the friendship of gourmandinet by giving him every day some delicious dainties. in this way she made him so complete a slave to his appetite that he could not live without the jellies, bonbons and cakes which she gave him in such profusion. at last she sent for him to come to her, and said:-"gourmandinet, it depends entirely upon yourself whether you shall have a large trunk full of bonbons and delicious dainties or never again eat one during your life." "never again eat one! oh! madam, i should die of such punishment. speak, madam, what must i do to escape this terrible fate?" "it is necessary," said the queen, looking at him fixedly, "that you should drive the princess blondine near to the forest of lilacs." "i cannot do it, madam; the king has forbidden it." "ah! you cannot do it; well, then, adieu. no more dainties for you. i shall command every one in the house to give you nothing." "oh! madam," said gourmandinet, weeping bitterly, "do not be so cruel. give me some order which it is in my power to execute." "i can only repeat that i command you to lead the princess blondine near to the forest of lilacs; that you encourage her to descend from the carriage, to cross the grating and enter the enchanted ground." "but, madam," replied gourmandinet, turning very pale, "if the princess enters this forest she can never escape from it. you know the penalty of entering upon enchanted ground. to send my dear princess there is to give her up to certain death." "for the third and last time," said the queen, frowning fearfully, "i ask if you will take the princess to the forest? choose! either an immense box of bonbons which i will renew every month or never again to taste the delicacies which you love." "but how shall i escape from the dreadful punishment which his majesty will inflict upon me?" "do not be disquieted on that account. as soon as you have induced blondine to enter the forest of lilacs, return to me. i will send you off out of danger with your bonbons, and i charge myself with your future fortune." "oh! madam, have pity upon me. do not compel me to lead my dear princess to destruction. she who has always been so good to me!" "you still hesitate, miserable coward! of what importance is the fate of blondine to you? when you have obeyed my commands i will see that you enter the service of brunette and i declare to you solemnly that the bonbons shall never fail." gourmandinet hesitated and reflected a few moments longer and, alas! at last resolved to sacrifice his good little mistress to his gluttony. the remainder of that day he still hesitated and he lay awake all night weeping bitter tears as he endeavored to discover some way to escape from the power of the wicked queen; but the certainty of the queen's bitter revenge if he refused to execute her cruel orders, and the hope of rescuing blondine at some future day by seeking the aid of some powerful fairy, conquered his irresolution and decided him to obey the queen. in the morning at ten o'clock blondine ordered her little carriage and entered it for a drive, after having embraced the king her father and promised him to return in two hours. the garden was immense. gourmandinet, on starting, turned the ostriches away from the forest of lilacs. when, however, they were entirely out of sight of the palace, he changed his course and turned towards the grating which separated them from the enchanted ground. he was sad and silent. his crime weighed upon his heart and conscience. "what is the matter?" said blondine, kindly. "you say nothing are you ill, gourmandinet?" "no, my princess, i am well." "but how pale you are! tell me what distresses you, poor boy, and i promise to do all in my power to make you happy." blondine's kind inquiries and attentions almost softened the hard heart of gourmandinet, but the remembrance of the bonbons promised by the wicked queen, fourbette, soon chased away his good resolutions. before he had time to reply, the ostriches reached the grating of the forest of lilacs. "oh! the beautiful lilacs!" exclaimed blondine; "how fragrant--how delicious! i must have a bouquet of those beautiful flowers for my good papa. get down, gourmandinet and bring me some of those superb branches." "i cannot leave my seat, princess, the ostriches might run away with you during my absence." "do not fear," replied blondine; "i could guide them myself to the palace." "but the king would give me a terrible scolding for having abandoned you, princess. it is best that you go yourself and gather your flowers." "that is true. i should be very sorry to get you a scolding, my poor gourmandinet." while saying these words she sprang lightly from the carriage, crossed the bars of the grating and commenced to gather the flowers. at this moment gourmandinet shuddered and was overwhelmed with remorse. he wished to repair his fault by calling blondine but although she was only ten steps from him,--although he saw her perfectly--she could not hear his voice, and in a short time she was lost to view in the enchanted forest. for a long time gourmandinet wept over his crime, cursed his gluttony and despised the wicked queen fourbette. at last he recalled to himself that the hour approached at which blondine would be expected at the palace. he returned to the stables through the back entrance and ran at once to the queen, who was anxiously expecting him. on seeing him so deadly pale and his eyes inflamed from the tears of awful remorse, she knew that blondine had perished. "is it done?" said she. gourmandinet bowed his head. he had not the strength to speak. "come," said she, "behold your reward!" she pointed to a large box full of delicious bonbons of every variety. she commanded a valet to raise the box and place it upon one of the mules which had brought her jewelry. "i confide this box to gourmandinet, in order that he may take it to my father," she said. "go, boy, and return in a month for another." she placed in his hand at the same time a purse full of gold. gourmandinet mounted the mule in perfect silence and set off in full gallop. the mule was obstinate and wilful and soon grew restive under the weight of the box and began to prance and kick. he did this so effectually that he threw gourmandinet and his precious box of bonbons upon the ground. gourmandinet, who had never ridden upon a horse or mule, fell heavily with his head upon the stones and died instantly. thus he did not receive from his crime the profit which he had hoped, for he had not even tasted of the bonbons which the queen had given him. no one regretted him. no one but the poor blondine had ever loved him. the forest of lilacs when blondine entered the forest she commenced gathering the beautiful branches of lilacs. she rejoiced in their profusion and delighted in their fragrance. as she made her selection, it seemed to her that those which were more distant were still more beautiful so she emptied her apron and her hat, which were both full and filled them again and again. blondine had been thus busily occupied for about an hour. she began to suffer from the heat and to feel great fatigue. she found the branches of lilacs heavy to carry and thought it was time to return to the palace. she looked around and saw herself surrounded with lilacs. she called gourmandinet but no one replied. "i have wandered further than i intended," said blondine. "i will return at once, though i am very weary. gourmandinet will hear me and will surely come to meet me." blondine walked on rapidly for some time but she could not find the boundaries of the forest. many times she called anxiously upon gourmandinet but he did not respond and at last she became terribly frightened. "what will become of me, all alone in this vast forest? what will my poor papa think when i do not return? and gourmandinet, how will he dare go back to the palace without me? he will be scolded, perhaps beaten and all this is my fault because i would leave my carriage to gather lilacs? unfortunate girl that i am! i shall die of hunger and thirst in this forest if the wolves do not eat me up this night." weeping bitterly, blondine fell on the ground at the foot of a large tree. she wept a long time. at last her great fatigue mastered her grief. she placed her little head upon her bundle of lilacs, and slept peacefully. blondine's awakening--beau-minon blondine slept calmly all night; no ferocious beast came to trouble her slumbers. she did not suffer from the cold and awakened at a late hour in the morning. she rubbed her eyes, much surprised to see herself surrounded by trees, in place of being in her own room in the palace, and upon her own bed. she called her nurse and a soft mewing was the only response. astonished and almost frightened, she looked around and saw at her feet a superb white cat, looking gently upon her and continuing to mew plaintively. "ah! pretty puss! how beautiful you are!" cried blondine, placing her little hand caressingly upon the soft fur, white as snow. "i am so happy to see you, pretty puss, for you will conduct me to your home. i am indeed very hungry and i have not the strength to walk much further without food." blondine had scarcely uttered these words, when the white pussy mewed again and pointed with her little paw to a small package lying near her, wrapped neatly in fine white linen. she opened the parcel and found it contained bread and butter which she found delicious. she gave the crumbs to pussy, who munched them with seeming delight. when they had finished their simple meal, blondine leaned over towards her little companion, and said, caressingly: "thanks, pretty puss, for the breakfast you have given me. now, can you conduct me to my papa, who is certainly in despair because of my absence?" pussy, whom blondine named beau-minon, shook her head and mewed plaintively. "ah! you understand me, beau-minon," said blondine. "i entreat you to have pity upon me and lead me to some house before i perish with hunger, cold and terror in this vast forest!" beau-minon looked at the princess fixedly and made a sign with her little graceful white head which seemed to say, "i understand you." she rose, advanced a few steps and paused to see if blondine followed her. "i am here, beau-minon; i am following you gladly," said blondine; "but how can we pass through these bushy thickets? i see no path." beau-minon made no reply but sprang lightly into the thicket which opened of itself to allow blondine and beau-minon to pass, and then closed up immediately. blondine walked on for about half an hour. as she advanced, the forest became lighter, the grass was finer and the flowers more abundant. she saw many pretty birds singing melodiously and graceful squirrels, bounding along the branches of the trees. blondine, who had no doubt that she was about to leave the forest and see her dear father again, was enchanted with all that she saw; she wished to pause and gather the lovely wild flowers; but beau-minon advanced steadily and mewed plaintively whenever blondine relaxed her speed. in about an hour blondine perceived an elegant castle. beau-minon led her to the gilded grating. however, blondine did not know how to enter. there was no bell and the gate was closed. beau-minon had disappeared and blondine was once more alone. bonne-biche beau-minon had entered by a little passage, which seemed made expressly for him and had probably given notice to some one at the castle, as the gate opened without blondine having called. she entered the court-yard but saw no one. the door of the castle opened of itself. blondine entered the vestibule which was of rare white marble. all the doors of the castle now opened like the first and the princess passed through a suite of beautiful rooms. at last, in the back part of a charming salon, furnished with blue and gold, she perceived a white hind, lying upon a bed of fine and fragrant grasses. beau-minon stood near her. the pretty hind saw blondine, arose, and approached her. "you are most welcome, blondine," said she. "my son beau-minon and i have expected you for a long time." at these words, blondine was much frightened. "take courage, princess; you are with friends. i know the king your father and i love him and i love you also." "oh, madam," said blondine, "if you know the king my father, i pray you to take me to him. my absence must make him very wretched." "my dear blondine," said the hind, whose name was bonne-biche, sighing, "it is not in my power to conduct you to your father. you are in the hands of the magician of the forest of lilacs. i myself am subject to his power which is superior to mine but i can send soft dreams to your father, which will reassure him as to your fate and let him know that you are safe with me." "oh, madam!" said blondine, in an agony of grief, "shall i never again see my father whom i love so tenderly? my poor father!" "dear blondine, do not distress yourself as to the future. wisdom and prudence are always recompensed. you will see your father again but not now. in the meantime be good and docile. beau-minon and i will do all in our power to make you happy." blondine sighed heavily and shed a few tears. she then reflected that to manifest such grief was a poor recompense for all the goodness of bonne-biche. she resolved, therefore, to control herself and to be cheerful. bonne-biche took her to see the apartment they had prepared for her. the bedroom was hung with rose-colored silk embroidered with gold. the furniture was covered with white velvet worked with silks of the most brilliant hues. every species of animal, bird and butterfly were represented in rare embroidery. adjoining blondine's chamber was a small study. it was hung with sky-blue damask, embroidered with fine pearls. the furniture was covered with silver moirã©, adorned with nails of turquoise. two magnificent portraits, representing a young and superbly handsome woman and a strikingly attractive young man, hung on the walls. their costumes indicated that they were of royal race. "whose portraits are these, madam?" said blondine to bonne-biche. "i am forbidden to answer that question, dear blondine. you will know later;--but this is the hour for dinner. come, blondine, i am sure you are hungry." blondine was in fact almost dying of hunger. she followed bonne-biche and they entered the dining-room where she saw a table strangely served. an enormous cushion of black satin was placed on the floor for bonne-biche. on the table before her was a vase filled with the choicest herbs, fresh and nutritious and near this vase was a golden bucket, filled with fresh and limpid water. opposite bonne-biche was a little stool for beau-minon while before him was a little porringer in gold, filled with little fried fish and the thighs of snipes. at one side was a bowl of rich crystal full of fresh milk. between beau-minon and bonne-biche a plate was placed for blondine. her chair was of carved ivory covered with crimson velvet attached with nails of diamonds. before her was a gold plate richly chased, filled with delicious soup made of a young pullet and fig-birds, her glass and water-bottle were of carved rock-crystal, a muffin was placed by her side, her fork and spoon were of gold and her napkin was of linen, finer than anything she had ever seen. the table was served by gazelles who were marvellously adroit. they waited, carved and even divined the wishes of blondine, bonne-biche and beau-minon. the dinner was exquisite--the chicken was splendid, the game and fish most delicate, the pastry and bonbons superlative. blondine was hungry so she ate of all and found all excellent. after dinner, bonne-biche and beau-minon conducted the princess into the garden. she found there the most delicious fruits and lovely walks. after a charming walk, blondine entered the castle with her new friends, much fatigued. bonne-biche proposed that she retire, to which she agreed joyfully. blondine entered her chamber and found two gazelles waiting to attend her. they disrobed her with grace and adroitness, placed her in bed and seated themselves by her couch to watch over her. blondine was soon peacefully asleep--not, however, without having first thought of her father and wept bitterly over her cruel separation from him. blondine's second awakening blondine slept profoundly, and on awaking she found herself entirely changed. indeed, it seemed to her she could not be the same person. she was much taller, her intellect was developed, her knowledge enlarged. she remembered a number of books she thought she had read during her sleep. she was sure she had been writing, drawing, singing and playing on the piano and harp. she looked around, however, and knew that the chamber was the same to which bonne-biche had conducted her and in which she had gone to sleep. agitated, disquieted, she rose and ran to the glass. she saw that she was much grown and she found herself charming, a hundred times more beautiful than when she retired the night before. her fair ringlets fell to her feet, her complexion was like the lily and the rose, her eyes celestial blue, her nose beautifully formed, her cheeks rosy as the morn, and her form was erect and graceful. in short, blondine thought herself the most beautiful person she had ever seen. trembling, almost frightened, she dressed herself hastily and ran to seek bonne-biche whom she found in the apartment where she had first seen her. "bonne-biche, bonne-biche!" she exclaimed, "i entreat you to explain to me the change which i see and feel in myself. last night i went to sleep a child--i awoke this morning, and found myself a young lady. is this an illusion or have i indeed grown and developed thus during the night?" "yes, my dear blondine, you are fourteen years old to-day. but you have slept peacefully seven years. my son beau-minon and i wished to spare you the weariness of all early studies. when you first entered the castle you knew nothing; not even how to read. i put you to sleep for seven years, and beau-minon and i have passed this time in instructing you during your sleep. i see by the wonder expressed in your eyes, sweet princess, that you doubt all this. come into your study and reassure yourself on this point." blondine followed bonne-biche to the little room. she ran first to the piano, commenced playing and found that she played remarkably well. she then tried the harp and drew from it the most ravishing sounds, and she sang enchantingly. she took her pencil and brushes and drew and painted with a facility which denoted a true talent. she wrote and found her handwriting clear and elegant. she looked at the countless books which were ranged round the room and knew that she had read them all. surprised, delighted, she threw her arms around the neck of bonne-biche, embraced beau-minon tenderly and said to them: "oh! my dear true good friends, what a debt of gratitude do i owe you for having thus watched over my childhood and developed my intellect and my heart. i feel how much i am improved in every respect and i owe it all to you." bonne-biche returned her caresses and beau-minon patted her hand delicately. after the first few happy moments had passed, blondine cast down her eyes and said timidly: "do not think me ungrateful, my dear good friends, if i wish you to add one more to the benefits you have already conferred upon me. tell me something of my father. does he still weep my absence? is he happy since he lost me?" "dear blondine, your anxiety on this point is most natural and shall be relieved. look in this mirror, blondine, and you shall see the king your father and all that has passed since you left the palace." [illustration: _she threw her arms around the neck of bonne-biche_] blondine raised her eyes to the mirror and looked into the apartment of her father. the king seemed much agitated and was walking backwards and forwards. he appeared to be expecting some one. the queen, fourbette, entered and related to him that notwithstanding the remonstrances of gourmandinet, blondine had herself seized the reins and guided the ostriches who becoming frightened dashed off in the direction of the forest of lilacs and overturned the carriage. blondine was thrown over the grating which bounded the forest. she stated that gourmandinet had become insane from terror and grief and she had sent him home to his parents. the king was in wild despair at this news. he ran to the forest of lilacs and he had to be withheld by force from throwing himself across the boundary in order to search for his cherished blondine. they carried him to the palace where he yielded to the most frightful sorrow and despair, calling unceasingly upon his dear blondine, his beloved child. at last, overcome by grief, he slept and saw in a dream blondine in the castle of bonne-biche and beau-minon. bonne-biche gave him the sweet assurance that blondine should one day be restored to him and that her childhood should be calm and happy. the mirror now became misty and everything disappeared, then again clear as crystal and blondine saw her father a second time. he had become old, his hair was white as snow and his countenance was sad. he held in his hand a little portrait of blondine, his tears fell upon it and he pressed it often to his lips. the king was alone. blondine saw neither the queen nor brunette. poor blondine wept bitterly. "alas!" said she, "why is my dear father alone? where is the queen? where is brunette?" "the queen," said bonne-biche, "showed so little grief at your death, my princess, that your father's heart was filled with hatred and suspicion towards her and he sent her back to the king turbulent, her father, who confined her in a tower, where she soon died of rage and anger. all the world supposed you to be dead. as to your sister brunette, she became so wicked, so insupportable, that the king hastened to give her in marriage last year to the prince violent, who charged himself with the duty of reforming the character of the cruel and envious princess brunette. the prince was stern and harsh. brunette saw that her wicked heart prevented her from being happy and she commenced trying to correct her faults. you will see her again some day, dear blondine and your example may complete her reformation." blondine thanked bonne-biche tenderly for all these details. her heart prompted her to ask, "but when shall i see my father and sister?" but she feared to appear ungrateful and too anxious to leave the castle of her good friends. she resolved then to await another more suitable opportunity to ask this question. the days passed away quietly and pleasantly. blondine was much occupied, but was sometimes melancholy. she had no one to talk with but bonne-biche and she was only with her during the hours of lessons and repasts. beau-minon could not converse and could only make himself understood by signs. the gazelles served blondine with zeal and intelligence but they had not the gift of speech. blondine walked every day, always accompanied by beau-minon, who pointed out to her the most lovely and sequestered paths and the rarest and richest flowers. bonne-biche had made blondine promise solemnly never to leave the enclosure of the park and never to enter the forest. many times blondine had asked bonne-biche the reason of this prohibition. sighing profoundly, she had replied: "ah, blondine! do not seek to penetrate the forest. it is a fatal spot. may you never enter there." sometimes blondine mounted a pavilion which was built on an eminence near the boundary of the forest. she looked admiringly and longingly at the magnificent trees, the lovely and fragrant flowers, the thousand graceful birds flying and singing and seeming to call her name. "alas!" said she, "why will not bonne-biche allow me to walk in this beautiful forest? what possible danger can i encounter in that lovely place and under her protection?" whenever she was lost in these reflections, beau-minon, who seemed to comprehend what was passing in her heart, mewed plaintively, pulled her robe and tried to draw her from the pavilion. blondine smiled sweetly, followed her gentle companion and recommenced her walk in the solitary park. the parrot six months had passed since blondine awaked from her seven years' sleep. it seemed to the little princess a long time. the remembrance of her dear father often saddened her heart. bonne-biche and beau-minon seemed to divine her thoughts. beau-minon mewed plaintively, and bonne-biche heaved the most profound sighs. blondine spoke but rarely of that which occupied her thoughts continually. she feared to offend bonne-biche, who had said to her three or four times: "dear blondine, be patient. you will see your father when you are fifteen, if you continue wise and good. trust me, dear child; do not trouble yourself about the future and above all do not seek to leave us." one morning blondine was alone and very sad. she was musing upon her singular and monotonous existence. suddenly she was disturbed in her reverie by three soft little strokes upon her window. raising her head, she perceived a parrot with beautiful green plumage and throat and breast of bright orange. surprised at the appearance of a bird entirely unknown to her, she opened the window and invited the parrot to enter. what was her amazement when the bird said to her, in a fine sharp voice: "good day, blondine! i know that you sometimes have a very tedious time of it, because you have no one to talk to. i have taken pity upon you and come to have a chat with you. but i pray you do not mention that you have seen me, for bonne-biche would cut my throat if she knew it." "why so, beautiful parrot? bonne-biche is good; she injures no one and only hates the wicked." "blondine, listen! if you do not promise to conceal my visit from bonne-biche and beau-minon, i will fly away at once and never return." "since you wish it so much, beautiful parrot, i will promise silence. let us chat a little. it is a long time since i have had an opportunity to converse. you seem to me gay and witty. i do not doubt that you will amuse me much." blondine listened with delight to the lively talk of the parrot, who complimented extravagantly her beauty, her wit and her talents. blondine was enchanted. in about an hour the parrot flew away, promising to return the next day. in short, he returned every day and continued to compliment and amuse her. one morning he struck upon the window and said: "blondine! blondine! open the window, quickly! i bring you news of your father. but above all make no noise unless you want my throat cut." blondine was overwhelmed with joy. she opened the window with alacrity and said: "is it true, my beautiful parrot, that you bring me news of my dear father? speak quickly! what is he doing and how is he?" "your father is well, blondine, but he weeps your loss always. i have promised him to employ all my power to deliver you from your prison but i can do nothing without your assistance." "my prison!" said blondine. "but you are ignorant of all the goodness which bonne-biche and beau-minon have shown me, of the pains they have lavished upon my education, of all their tenderness and forbearance. they will be enchanted to find a way of restoring me to my father. come with me, beautiful parrot and i will present you to bonne-biche. come, i entreat you." "ah! blondine," said the sharp voice of the parrot, "it is you, princess, who do not know bonne-biche and beau-minon. they detest me because i have sometimes succeeded in rescuing their victims from them. you will never see your father again, blondine, you will never leave this forest, unless you yourself shall break the charm which holds you here." "what charm?" said blondine. "i know of no charm and what interest have bonne-biche and beau-minon in keeping me a prisoner?" "is it not to their interest to enliven their solitude, blondine? there is a talisman which can procure your release. it is a simple rose, which, gathered by yourself, will deliver you from your exile and restore you to the arms of your fond father." "but there is not a single rose in the garden. how then can i gather one?" "i will explain this to you another day, blondine. now i can tell you no more, as i hear bonne-biche coming. but to convince you of the virtues of the rose, entreat bonne-biche to give you one and see what she will say. to-morrow--to-morrow, blondine!" the parrot flew away, well content to have scattered in blondine's heart the first seeds of discontent and ingratitude. the parrot had scarcely disappeared when bonne-biche entered. she appeared greatly agitated. "with whom have you been talking, blondine?" looking suspiciously towards the open window. "with no one, madam," said the princess. "i am certain i heard voices in conversation." "i must have been speaking to myself." bonne-biche made no reply. she was very sad and tears fell from her eyes. blondine was also engaged in thought. the cunning words of the parrot made her look upon the kindness of bonne-biche and beau-minon in a totally different light. in place of saying to herself that a hind which had the power to speak, to make wild beasts intelligent, to put an infant to sleep for seven years, to dedicate seven years to a tiresome and ignorant little girl, in short, a hind lodged and served like a queen, could be no ordinary criminal; in place of cherishing a sentiment of gratitude for all that bonne-biche had done for her, blondine, alas! believed blindly in the parrot, the unknown bird of whose character and veracity she had no proof. she did not remember that the parrot could have no possible motive for risking its life to render her a service. blondine believed it though, implicitly, because of the flattery which the parrot had lavished upon her. she did not even recall with gratitude the sweet and happy existence which bonne-biche and beau-minon had secured to her. she resolved to follow implicitly the counsels of the parrot. during the course of the day she said to bonne-biche:-"why, madam, do i not see among your flowers the most lovely and charming of all flowers--the fragrant rose?" bonne-biche was greatly agitated and said in a trembling voice:-"blondine! blondine! do not ask for this most perfidious flower, which pierces all who touch it! never speak to me of the rose, blondine. you cannot know what fatal danger this flower contains for you!" the expression of bonne-biche was so stern and severe that blondine dared not question her further. the day passed away sadly enough. bonne-biche was unhappy and beau-minon very sad. early in the morning, blondine ran to her window and the parrot entered the moment she opened it. "well, my dear blondine, did you notice the agitation of bonne-biche, when you mentioned the rose? i promised you to point out the means by which you could obtain one of these charming flowers. listen now to my counsel. you will leave this park and enter the forest. i will accompany you and i will conduct you to a garden where you will find the most beautiful rose in the world!" "but how is it possible for me to leave the park? beau-minon always accompanies me in my walks." "try to get rid of him," said the parrot; "but if that is impossible, go in spite of him." "if this rose is at a distance, will not my absence be perceived?" "it is about an hour's walk. bonne-biche has been careful to separate you as far as possible from the rose in order that you might not find the means to escape from her power." "but why does she wish to hold me captive? she is all-powerful and could surely find pleasures more acceptable than educating an ignorant child." "all this will be explained to you in the future, blondine, when you will be in the arms of your father. be firm! after breakfast, in some way get away from beau-minon and enter the forest. i will expect you there." blondine promised, and closed the window, fearing that bonne-biche would surprise her. after breakfast, according to her usual custom, she entered the garden. beau-minon followed her in spite of some rude rebuffs which he received with plaintive mews. arrived at the alley which led out of the park, blondine resolved to get rid of beau-minon. "i wish to be alone," said she, sternly; "begone, beau-minon!" beau-minon pretended not to understand. blondine was impatient and enraged. she forgot herself so far as to strike beau-minon with her foot. when poor beau-minon received this humiliating blow, he uttered a cry of anguish and fled towards the palace. blondine trembled and was on the point of recalling him, when a false shame arrested her. she walked on rapidly to the gate, opened it not without trembling and entered the forest. the parrot joined her without delay. "courage, blondine! in one hour you will have the rose and will see your father, who weeps for you." at these words, blondine recovered her resolution which had begun to falter. she walked on in the path indicated by the parrot, who flew before her from branch to branch. the forest, which had seemed so beautiful and attractive near the park of bonne-biche, became wilder and more entangled. brambles and stones almost filled up the path, the sweet songs of the birds were no longer heard and the flowers had entirely disappeared. blondine felt oppressed by an inexplicable restlessness. the parrot pressed her eagerly to advance. "quick, quick, blondine! time flies! if bonne-biche perceives your absence you will never again see your father." blondine, fatigued, almost breathless, with her arms torn by the briers and her shoes in shreds, now declared that she would go no further when the parrot exclaimed:-"we have arrived, blondine. look! that is the enclosure which separates us from the rose." blondine saw at a turn in the path a small enclosure, the gate of which was quickly opened by the parrot. the soil was arid and stony but a magnificent, majestic rose-bush adorned with one rose, which was more beautiful than all the roses of the world grew in the midst of this sterile spot. "take it, blondine!" said the parrot; "you deserve it--you have truly earned it!" blondine seized the branch eagerly and in spite of the thorns which pierced her fingers cruelly, she tore it from the bush. the rose was scarcely grasped firmly in her hand, when she heard a burst of mocking laughter. the flower fell from her grasp, crying:-"thanks, blondine, for having delivered me from the prison in which bonne-biche held me captive. i am your evil genius! now you belong to me!" "ha! ha!" now exclaimed the parrot. "thanks, blondine! i can now resume my form of magician. you have destroyed your friends for i am their mortal enemy!" saying these cruel words, the parrot and the rose disappeared, leaving blondine alone in the forest. repentance blondine was stupefied! her conduct now appeared to her in all its horror. she had shown a monstrous ingratitude towards the friends who had been so tenderly devoted to her--who had dedicated seven years to the care of her education. would these kind friends ever receive her, ever pardon her? what would be her fate, if they should close their doors against her? and then, what did those awful words of the wicked parrot signify: "you have caused the destruction of your friends"? blondine turned round and wished to retrace her steps to the castle of bonne-biche. the briers and thorns tore her arms and face terribly. she continued however to force her way bravely through the thickets and after three hours of most painful walking she came before the castle of bonne-biche and beau-minon. [illustration: _blondine sees the castle of bonne-biche and beau-minon_] horror seized upon her, when in place of the superb building she saw only an appalling ruin--in place of the magnificent trees and rare flowers which surrounded it, only briers and thorns, nettles and thistles, could be seen. terrified and most desolate, she tried to force her way in the midst of the ruins, to seek some knowledge of her kind friends. a large toad issued from a pile of stones, advanced before her, and said:-"what are you seeking? have you not occasioned the death of your friends by the basest ingratitude? begone! do not insult their memory by your unwelcome presence!" "alas! alas!" cried blondine, "my poor friends, bonne-biche and beau-minon, why can i not atone by my death for the sufferings i have caused them?" and she fell, sobbing piteously, upon the stones and nettles; her grief and her repentance were so excessive that she did not feel their sharp points in her tender flesh. she wept profusely a long time. at last she arose and looked about her, hoping to find some shelter where she might take refuge. ruin only stared her in the face! "well," said she, "let the wild beasts tear me to pieces, let me die of hunger and thirst, if i can expiate my sins here upon the tomb of bonne-biche and beau-minon!" as she uttered these words, she heard a soft voice saying: "true repentance can atone for the worst of crimes." she raised her head and saw only an immense black crow flying above her. "alas! alas!" said blondine, "my repentance however true, however bitter it may be, can never give me back the lives of my dear bonne-biche and beau-minon!" "courage, courage, blondine! redeem your fault by your repentance and do not allow yourself to be utterly cast down by grief." the poor princess arose and left the scene of desolation. she followed a little path, where the large trees seemed to have rooted out the brambles and the earth was covered with moss. she was utterly exhausted with grief and fatigue and fell at the foot of a large tree, sobbing piteously. "courage, blondine!" said another voice; "courage and hope!" she saw near her only a frog, which was looking at her compassionately. "oh, frog!" said the princess, "you seem to pity my anguish! what will become of me now that i am alone and desolate in the world?" "courage and hope!" was the reply. blondine sighed deeply and looked around, hoping to discover some herb or fruit to appease her hunger and thirst. she saw nothing and her tears flowed freely. the sound of bells now somewhat dissipated her despairing thoughts. she saw a beautiful cow approaching her, gently and slowly. on arriving near her, the cow paused, bowed down, and showed her a silver porringer attached to her neck by a chain of beaten gold. blondine was very grateful for this unexpected succor. she detached the porringer, milked the cow and drank the sweet milk with delight. the pretty, gentle cow signed to her to replace the porringer. blondine obeyed, kissed her on the neck and said, sadly:-"thanks, blanchette, it is without doubt to my poor friends that i owe this sweet charity. perhaps in another and better world they can see the repentance of their poor blondine and wish to assist her in her frightful position." "a true repentance will obtain pardon for all faults," said a kind voice. "ah!" exclaimed blondine, "years of sorrow and weeping for my crimes would not suffice! i can never pardon myself!" in the mean time, night approached. notwithstanding her anguish and repentance, blondine began to reflect upon some means of securing herself from the ferocious wild beasts, whose terrible roars she already believed she heard in the distance. she saw some steps before her a kind of hut, formed by several trees growing near together and interlacing their branches. bowing her head, she entered, and found that by carefully connecting some branches she could form a pretty and secure retreat. she employed the remainder of the day in arranging this little room and gathered a quantity of moss, with which she made herself a bed and pillow. she concealed the entrance to this little retreat by some broken branches and leaves and went to rest, utterly worn out with regret and fatigue. when blondine awoke it was broad daylight. at first she could scarcely collect her thoughts and understand her position but the sad realities of her lot were soon apparent to her and she commenced weeping as before. blondine was hungry, and she could not imagine how she was to secure food but soon she heard again the sound of the cow-bells. in a few moments, blanchette stood near her. blondine again loosened the porringer, drew the milk and drank till her hunger was appeased, then replaced the porringer and kissed blanchette, hoping to see her again during the day. every day--in the morning, at midday and in the evening--blanchette came to offer blondine her frugal repast. blondine passed the time in tears for her poor friends, and bitter self-reproach for her crimes. "by my unpardonable disobedience," she said to herself, "i have caused the most terrible misfortunes, which it is not in my power to repair. i have not only lost my good and true friends but i am deprived of the only means of finding my father, my poor father, who perhaps still expects his blondine, his most unhappy blondine, condemned to live and die alone in this frightful forest where her evil genius reigns supreme." blondine sought to amuse and employ herself in every possible way. her little home was neatly arranged, and fresh moss and leaves composed her simple couch. she had tied some branches together and formed a seat and she made herself some needles and pins of the thorns and twisted some thread from the hemp which grew near her little hut, and with these implements she had mended the rents in her shoes. in this simple way blondine lived for six months; her grief was always the same and it is just to say that it was not her sad and solitary life which made her unhappy but sincere regret for her fault. she would willingly have consented to pass her life in the forest if she could thus have brought to life bonne-biche and beau-minon. the tortoise one day blondine was seated at the entrance of her hut, musing sadly as usual, thinking of her lost friends and of her father, when she saw before her an enormous tortoise. "blondine," said the tortoise, "if you will place yourself under my protection, i will conduct you out of this forest." "and why, madam tortoise, should i seek to leave this forest? here i caused the death of my friends and here i wish to die." "are you very certain of their death, blondine?" "what do you mean? is it possible i may be deceived? but, no; i saw the ruins of their castle. the parrot and the toad assured me of their death. you are kind and good and wish to console me without doubt but, alas! i do not hope to see them again. if they still lived they would not have left me alone with the frightful despair of having caused their death." "but how do you know, blondine, that this seeming neglect is not forced upon them? they may now be subjected to a power greater than their own. you know, blondine, that a true repentance will obtain pardon for many crimes." "ah! madam tortoise, if they still live, if you can give me news of them, if you can assure me that i need no longer reproach myself with their death, assure me that i shall one day see them again, there is no price which i will not gladly pay to merit this great happiness." "blondine, i am not permitted to disclose to you the fate of your friends but if you have the courage to mount on my back, remain there for six months and not address a single question to me during the journey, i will conduct you to a place where all will be revealed." "i promise all that you ask, madam tortoise, provided i can only learn what has become of my friends." "take care, blondine! reflect well. six months without descending from my back and without asking me a single question! when once you have accepted the conditions, when we have commenced our journey, if you have not the courage to endure to the end, you will remain eternally in the power of the enchanter, perroquet, and his sister rose and i cannot even continue to bestow upon you the little assistance to which you owe your life during the last six months." "let us go, madam tortoise let us be off, immediately. i prefer to die of hunger and fatigue rather than of grief and uncertainty. your words have brought hope to my poor heart, and i have courage to undertake even a more difficult journey than that of which you speak." "let it be according to your wish, blondine. mount my back. fear neither hunger nor thirst nor cold nor sunshine nor any accident during our long journey. as long as it lasts you shall not suffer from any inconvenience." blondine mounted on the back of the tortoise. "now, silence!" said she; "and not one word till we have arrived and i speak to you first." the journey and arrival the journey of blondine lasted, as the tortoise had said, six months. they were three months passing through the forest. at the end of that time she found herself on an arid plain which it required six weeks to cross. then blondine perceived a castle which reminded her of that of bonne-biche and beau-minon. they were a full month passing through the avenue to this castle. blondine burned with impatience. would she indeed learn the fate of her dear friends at the palace? in spite of her extreme anxiety, she dared not ask a single question. if she could have descended from the back of the tortoise, ten minutes would have sufficed for her to reach the castle. but, alas! the tortoise crept on slowly and blondine remembered that she had been forbidden to alight or to utter a word. she resolved, therefore, to control her impatience. the tortoise seemed rather to relax than to increase her speed. she consumed fourteen days still in passing through this avenue. they seemed fourteen centuries to blondine. she never, however, lost sight of the castle or of the door. the place seemed deserted; she heard no noise, she saw no sign of life. at last, after twenty-four days' journey, the tortoise paused, and said to blondine:-"now, princess, descend. by your courage and obedience you have earned the recompense i promised. enter the little door which you see before you. the first person you will meet will be the fairy bienveillante and she will make known to you the fate of your friends." blondine sprang lightly to the earth. she had been immovable so long she feared her limbs would be cramped but on the contrary she was as light and active as when she had lived so happily with her dear bonne-biche and beau-minon and ran joyously and gracefully gathering flowers and chasing butterflies. after having thanked the tortoise most warmly she opened the door which had been pointed out to her and found herself before a young person clothed in white, who asked in a sweet voice, whom she desired to see? [illustration: _they were three months passing through the forest_] "i wish to see the fairy bienveillante. tell her, i pray you, miss, that the princess blondine begs earnestly to see her without delay." "follow me, princess", replied the young girl. blondine followed in great agitation. she passed through several beautiful rooms and met many young girls clothed in white, like her guide. they looked at her as if they recognized her and smiled graciously. at last blondine arrived in a room in every respect resembling that of bonne-biche in the forest of lilacs. the remembrances which this recalled were so painful that she did not perceive the disappearance of her fair young guide. blondine gazed sadly at the furniture of the room. she saw but one piece which had not adorned the apartment of bonne-biche in the forest of lilacs. this was a wardrobe in gold and ivory, exquisitely carved. it was closed. blondine felt herself drawn towards it in an inexplicable manner. she was gazing at it intently, not having indeed the power to turn her eyes away, when a door opened and a young and beautiful woman, magnificently dressed, entered and drew near blondine. "what do you wish, my child?" said she, in a sweet, caressing voice. "oh, madam!" said blondine, throwing herself at her feet, "i have been assured that you could give me news of my dear, kind friends, bonne-biche and beau-minon. you know, madam, without doubt by what heedless disobedience i gave them up to destruction and that i wept for them a long time, believing them to be dead but the tortoise, who conducted me here, has given me reason to hope i may one day see them again. tell me, madam, tell me if they yet live and if i may dare hope for the happiness of rejoining them?" "blondine", replied the fairy bienveillante, sadly, "you are now about to know the fate of your friends, but no matter what you see or hear, do not lose courage or hope." saying these words, she seized the trembling blondine and conducted her in front of the wardrobe which had already so forcibly attracted her attention. "blondine, here is the key to this wardrobe. open it, and be brave!" she handed blondine a gold key. with a trembling hand the princess opened the wardrobe. what was her anguish when she saw the skins of bonne-biche and beau-minon fastened to the wardrobe with diamond nails! at this terrible sight the unfortunate princess uttered a cry of horror and fell insensible at the feet of the fairy. at this moment the door opened and a prince, beautiful as the day, sprang towards blondine, saying:-"oh, my mother! this is too severe a trial for my sweet blondine!" "alas! my son, my heart also bleeds for her. but you know that this last punishment was indispensable to deliver her for ever from the yoke of the cruel genius of the forest of lilacs." the fairy bienveillante now with her wand touched blondine, who was immediately restored to consciousness but despairing and sobbing convulsively, she exclaimed:-"let me die at once! my life is odious to me! no hope, no happiness, from this time forth for ever for poor blondine! my friends! my cherished friends! i will join you soon in the land of shadows!" "blondine! ever dear blondine!" said the fairy, clasping her in her arms, "your friends live and love you tenderly. i am bonne-biche and this is my son, beau-minon. the wicked genius of the forest of lilacs, taking advantage of the negligence of my son, obtained dominion over us and forced us into the forms under which you have known us. we could not resume our natural appearance unless you should pluck the rose, which i, knowing it to be your evil genius, retained captive. i placed it as far as possible from the castle in order to withdraw it from your view. i knew the misfortune to which you would be exposed on delivering your evil genius from his prison and heaven is my witness, that my son and i would willingly have remained a hind and a cat for ever in your eyes in order to spare you the cruel tortures to which you have been subjected. the parrot gained you over, in spite of all our precautions. you know the rest, my dear child. but you can never know all that we have suffered in witnessing your tears and your desolation." blondine embraced the fairy ardently and addressed a thousand questions to her. "what has become of the gazelles who waited upon us so gracefully?" "you have already seen them, dear blondine. they are the young girls who accompanied you. they also were changed when the evil genius gained his power over us." "and the good white cow who brought me milk every day?" "we obtained permission from the queen of the fairies to send you this light refreshment. the encouraging words of the crow came also from us." "you, then, madam, also sent me the tortoise?" "yes, blondine. the queen of the fairies, touched by your repentance and your grief, deprived the evil genius of the forest of all power over us on condition of obtaining from you one last proof of submission, compelling you to take this long and fatiguing journey and inflicting the terrible punishment of making you believe that my son and i had died from your imprudence. i implored, entreated the queen of the fairies to spare you at least this last anguish but she was inflexible." blondine gazed at her lost friends, listened eagerly to every word and did not cease to embrace those she had feared were eternally separated from her by death. the remembrance of her dear father now presented itself. the prince parfait understood her secret desire and made it known to his mother, the fairy bienveillante. "prepare yourself, dear blondine, to see your father. informed by me, he now expects you." at this moment, blondine found herself in a chariot of gold and pearls, the fairy bienveillante seated at her right hand, and the prince parfait at her feet, regarding her kindly and tenderly. the chariot was drawn by four swans of dazzling whiteness. they flew with such rapidity, that five minutes brought them to the palace of king benin. all the court was assembled about the king, all were expecting the princess blondine. when the chariot appeared, the cries of joy and welcome were so tumultuous that the swans were confused and almost lost their way. prince parfait, who guided them, succeeded in arresting their attention and the chariot drew up at the foot of the grand stairway. king benin sprang towards blondine who, jumping lightly from the chariot, threw herself in her father's arms. they remained a long time in this position and everybody wept tears of joy. when king benin had somewhat recovered himself he kissed, respectfully and tenderly, the hand of the good fairy who, after having protected and educated the princess blondine had now restored her to him. he embraced the prince parfait whom he found most charming. there were eight resplendent gala days in honor of the return of blondine. at the close of this gay festival, the fairy bienveillante announced her intention of returning home. but prince parfait and blondine were so melancholy at the prospect of this separation that king benin resolved they should never quit the place. he wedded the fairy and blondine became the happy wife of prince parfait who was always for her the beau-minon of the forest of lilacs. brunette, whose character had entirely changed, came often to see blondine. prince violent, her husband, became more amiable as brunette became more gentle and they were very happy. as to blondine, she had no misfortunes, no griefs. she had lovely daughters, who resembled her, and good and handsome sons, the image of their manly father, prince parfait. everybody loved them and every one connected with them was happy ever after. good little henry good little henry the poor sick mother there was a poor woman, a widow, who lived alone with her little son henry. she loved him tenderly and she had good reason to do so, for no one had ever seen a more charming child. although he was but seven years old, he kept the house while his good mother labored diligently and then left home to sell her work and buy food for herself and her little henry. he swept, he washed the floor, he cooked, he dug and cultivated the garden and when all this was done he seated himself to mend his clothes or his mother's shoes and to make stools and tables--in short, to do everything his strength would enable him to do. the house in which they lived belonged to them, but it was very lonesome. in front of their dwelling there was a lofty mountain so high that no one had ever ascended to its summit, and besides it was surrounded by a rushing torrent, by high walls and insurmountable precipices. the mother and her little boy were happy but alas! one day the poor mother fell sick. they knew no doctor and besides they had no money to pay for one. poor henry did not know how to cure her. he brought her fresh cool water for he had nothing else to give her, he stayed by her night and day and ate his little morsel of dry bread at the foot of her bed. when she slept he looked at her sadly and wept. the sickness increased from day to day and at last the poor woman was almost in a dying condition. she could neither speak nor swallow and she no longer knew her little henry, who was sobbing on his knees near her bed. in his despair, he cried out: "fairy bienfaisante, come to my help! save my mother!" henry had scarcely pronounced these words, when a window opened and a lady richly dressed entered and in a soft voice, said to him: "what do you wish of me, my little friend? you called me--here i am!" "madam," cried henry, throwing himself on his knees and clasping his hands, "if you are the fairy bienfaisante, save my poor mother who is about to die and leave me alone in the world." the good fairy looked at henry most compassionately and then, without saying a word, she approached the poor woman, bent over her, examined her attentively, breathed upon her and said: "it is not in my power, my poor child, to cure your mother; her life depends upon you alone, if you have the courage to undertake the journey i will point out to you." "speak, madam! i entreat you to speak! there is nothing i will not undertake to save the life of my dear mother." the fairy replied, "you must go and seek the plant of life, which grows on top of the mountain that you see from this window. when you have obtained this plant, press its juice into the mouth of your mother and she will be immediately restored to health." "i will start out immediately, madam. but who will take care of my poor mother during my absence? and, moreover," said he, sobbing bitterly, "she will be dead before my return." "do not worry, my dear child. if you go to seek the plant of life, your mother will need nothing before your return; she will remain precisely in the condition in which you leave her. but you must dare many dangers and endure many things before you pluck the plant of life. great courage and great perseverance are necessary on your part." "i fear nothing, madam, my courage and perseverance shall not fail. tell me only how i shall know this plant amongst all the others which cover the top of the mountain." "when you reach the summit, call the doctor who has charge of this plant, inform him that i have sent you and he will give you a branch of the plant of life." henry kissed the good fairy's hands and thanked her heartily, took a sorrowful leave of his mother, covering her with kisses, put some bread in his pocket and set out, after saluting the fairy respectfully. the fairy smiled encouragingly at this poor child who so bravely resolved to ascend a mountain so dangerous that none of those who had attempted it had ever reached the summit. the crow, the cock, and the frog little henry marched resolutely to the mountain which he found much more distant than it had appeared to him. instead of arriving in a half hour as he had expected, he walked rapidly the whole day without reaching its base. about one-third of the way he saw a crow which was caught by the claw in a snare which some wicked boy had set for him. the poor crow sought in vain to release himself from this trap which caused him cruel sufferings. henry ran to him, cut the cord which bound him and set him at liberty. the poor crow flew off rapidly, after having said to henry, "thanks, my brave henry, i will see you again." henry was much surprised to hear the crow speak but he did not relax his speed. some time afterwards while he was resting in a grove and eating a morsel of bread, he saw a cock followed by a fox and about to be taken by him in spite of his efforts to escape. the poor frightened cock passed very near to henry, who seized it adroitly, and hid it under his coat without the fox having seen him. the fox continued his pursuit, supposing that the cock was before him. henry did not move till he was entirely out of sight. he then released the cock, who said to him in a low voice: "many thanks, my brave henry, i will see you again." henry was now rested. he rose and continued his journey. when he had advanced a considerable distance he saw a poor frog about to be devoured by a serpent. the frog trembled and, paralyzed by fear, could not move. the serpent advanced rapidly, its horrid mouth open. henry seized a large stone and threw it so adroitly that it entered the serpent's throat the moment it was about to devour the frog. the frightened frog leaped to a distance and cried out, "many thanks, brave henry; we will meet again." henry, who had before heard the crow and the cock speak, was not now astonished at these words of the frog and continued to walk on rapidly. a short time after he arrived at the foot of the mountain but he was greatly distressed to see that a large and deep river ran at its foot, so wide that the other side could scarcely be seen. greatly at a loss he paused to reflect. [illustration: _a large and deep river ran at the foot of the mountain_] "perhaps," said he, hopefully, "i may find a bridge, or ford, or a boat." henry followed the course of the river which flowed entirely around the mountain but everywhere it was equally wide and deep and he saw neither bridge nor boat. poor henry seated himself on the bank of the river, weeping bitterly. "fairy bienfaisante! fairy bienfaisante! come to my help," he exclaimed. "of what use will it be to me to know that there is a plant at the top of the mountain which will save the life of my poor mother, if i can never reach its summit?" at this moment the cock whom he had protected from the fox appeared on the borders of the river, and said to him: "the fairy bienfaisante can do nothing for you. this mountain is beyond her control. but you have saved my life and i wish to prove my gratitude. mount my back, henry, and by the faith of a cock i will take you safe to the other side." henry did not hesitate. he sprang on the cock's back, fully expecting to fall into the water but his clothes were not even moist. the cock received him so adroitly on his back that he felt as secure as if he had been on horseback. he held on firmly to the crest of the cock who now commenced the passage. the river was so wide that he was flying constantly twenty-one days before he reached the other shore; but during these twenty-one days henry was not sleepy and felt neither hunger nor thirst. when they arrived, henry thanked the cock most politely, who graciously bristled his feathers and disappeared. a moment after this henry turned and to his astonishment the river was no longer to be seen. "it was without doubt the genius of the mountain who wished to prevent my approach," said henry. "but, with the help of the good fairy bienfaisante, i think i shall yet succeed in my mission." the harvest henry walked a long, long time but he walked in vain for he saw that he was no farther from the foot of the mountain and no nearer to the summit than he had been when he crossed the river. any other child would have retraced his steps but the brave little henry would not allow himself to be discouraged. notwithstanding his extreme fatigue he walked on twenty-one days without seeming to make any advance. at the end of this time he was no more discouraged than at the close of the first day. "if i am obliged to walk a hundred years," he said aloud, "i will go on till i reach the summit." "you have then a great desire to arrive there, little boy?" said an old man, looking at him maliciously and standing just in his path. "what are you seeking at the top of this mountain?" "the plant of life, my good sir, to save the life of my dear mother who is about to die." the little old man shook his head, rested his little pointed chin on the top of his gold-headed cane and after having a long time regarded henry, he said: "your sweet and fresh face pleases me, my boy. i am one of the genii of this mountain. i will allow you to advance on condition that you will gather all my wheat, that you will beat it out, make it into flour and then into bread. when you have gathered, beaten, ground and cooked it, then call me. you will find all the necessary implements in the ditch near you. the fields of wheat are before you and cover the mountain." the old man disappeared and henry gazed in terror at the immense fields of wheat which were spread out before him. but he soon mastered this feeling of discouragement--took off his vest, seized a scythe and commenced cutting the wheat diligently. this occupied him a hundred and ninety-five days and nights. when the wheat was all cut, henry commenced to beat it with a flail which he found at hand. this occupied him sixty days. when the grain was all beaten out he began to grind it in a mill which rose up suddenly near him. this occupied him seventy days. when the wheat was all ground he began to knead it and to cook it. he kneaded and cooked for a hundred and twenty days. as the bread was cooked he arranged it properly on shelves, like books in a library. when all was finished henry was transported with joy and called the genius of the mountain who appeared immediately and counted four hundred and sixty-eight thousand three hundred and twenty-nine new loaves of bread. he bit and ate a little end off of two or three, drew near to henry, tapped him on the cheek and said: "you are a good boy and i wish to pay you for your work." he drew from his pocket a little wooden box which he gave to henry and said, maliciously: "when you return home, open this box and you will find in it the most delicious tobacco you have ever seen." now henry had never used tobacco and the present of the little genius seemed to him very useless but he was too polite to let this be seen and he thanked the old man as if satisfied. the old one smiled, then burst out laughing and disappeared. the vintage henry began to walk rapidly and perceived with great delight that every step brought him nearer to the summit of the mountain. in three hours he had walked two-thirds of the way. but suddenly he found himself arrested by a very high wall which he had not perceived before. he walked around it, and found, after three days' diligent advance, that this wall surrounded the entire mountain and that there was no door, not the smallest opening by which he could enter. henry seated himself on the ground, to reflect upon his situation. he resolved to wait patiently--he sat there forty-five days. at the end of this time he said: "i will not go back if i have to wait here a hundred years." he had scarcely uttered these words when a part of the wall crumbled away with a terrible noise and he saw in the opening a giant, brandishing an enormous cudgel. "you have then a great desire to pass here, my boy? what are you seeking beyond my wall?" "i am seeking the plant of life, master giant, to cure my poor mother who is dying. if it is in your power and you will allow me to pass this wall, i will do anything for you that you may command." "is it so? well, listen! your countenance pleases me. i am one of the genii of this mountain. i will allow you to pass this wall if you will fill my wine-cellar. here are all my vines. gather the grapes, crush them, put the juice in the casks and arrange them well in my wine-cellar. you will find all the implements necessary at the foot of this wall. when it is done, call me." the giant disappeared, closing the wall behind him. henry looked around him and as far as he could see, the vines of the giant were growing luxuriously. "well, well," said henry to himself, "i cut all the wheat of the little old man--i can surely also gather the grapes of the big giant. it will not take me so long and it will not be as difficult to make wine of these grapes as to make bread of the wheat." [illustration: _a part of the wall crumbled with a terrible noise_] henry took off his coat, picked up a pruning-knife which he saw at his feet and began to cut the grapes and throw them into the vats. it took him thirty days to gather this crop. when all was finished, he crushed the grapes, poured the juice into the casks and ranged them in the cellar, which they completely filled. he was ninety days making the wine. when the wine was ready and everything in the cellar in complete order, henry called the giant who immediately appeared, examined the casks, tasted the wine, then turned towards henry and said: "you are a brave little man and i wish to pay you for your trouble. it shall not be said that you worked gratis for the giant of the mountain." he drew a thistle from his pocket, gave it to henry and said: "after your return home, whenever you desire anything, smell this thistle." henry did not think the giant very generous but he received the thistle with an amiable smile. then the giant whistled so loudly that the mountain trembled and the wall and giant disappeared entirely and henry was enabled to continue his journey. the chase henry was within a half-hour's walk of the summit of the mountain when he reached a pit so wide that he could not possibly jump to the other side and so deep that it seemed bottomless. henry did not lose courage, however. he followed the borders of the pit till he found himself where he started from and knew that this yawning pit surrounded the mountain. "alas! what shall i do?" said poor henry; "i scarcely overcome one obstacle when another more difficult seems to rise up before me. how shall i ever pass this pit?" the poor child felt for the first time that his eyes were filled with tears. he looked around for some means of passing over but saw no possible chance and seated himself sadly on the brink of the precipice. suddenly he heard a terrible growl. he turned and saw within ten steps of him an enormous wolf gazing at him with flaming eyes. "what are you seeking in my kingdom?" said the wolf, in a threatening voice. "master wolf, i am seeking the plant of life which alone can save my dear mother who is about to die. if you will assist me to cross this pit, i will be your devoted servant and will obey any command you may give me." "well, my boy, if you will catch all the game which is in my forests, birds and beasts, and make them up into pies and nice roasts, by the faith of the genius of the mountain, i will pass you over to the other side. you will find near this tree all the instruments necessary to catch the game and to cook it. when your work is done, call me." saying these words, he disappeared. henry took courage. he lifted a bow and arrow which he saw on the ground, and began to shoot at the partridges, woodcocks, pheasants and game of all kinds which abounded there. but, alas! he did not understand it and killed nothing. during eight days he was shooting right and left in vain and was at last wearied and despairing, when he saw near him the crow whose life he had saved in the commencement of his journey. "you rescued me from mortal danger," said the crow, "and i told you i should see you again. i have come to redeem my promise. if you do not fulfil your promise to the wolf, he will change you into some terrible wild beast. follow me. i am going a-hunting and you have only to gather the game and cook it." saying these words, the crow flew above the trees of the forest and with his beak and his claws killed all the game to be found. in fact, during one hundred and fifty days he caught one million eight hundred and sixty thousand seven hundred and twenty-six animals and birds, squirrels, moor-cocks, pheasants, and quails. as the crow killed them, henry plucked the feathers, skinned them, cut them up and cooked them in roasts or pies. when all was cooked he arranged them neatly and then the crow said to him: "adieu, henry. there remains one obstacle yet to overcome but in that difficulty i cannot aid you. but do not be discouraged. the good fairies protect filial love." before henry had time to thank the crow, he had disappeared. he then called the wolf and said to him: "master wolf, here is all the game of your forest. i have prepared it as you ordered and now will you assist me to pass this precipice?" the wolf examined a pheasant, crunched a roast squirrel and a pie, licked his lips and said to henry: "you are a brave and good boy. i will pay you for your trouble. it shall not be said that you have worked for the wolf of the mountain without receiving your reward." saying these words, he gave henry a staff which he cut in the forest and said to him: [illustration: _henry sprang upon the wolf's back_] "when you have gathered the plant of life and wish yourself transported to any part of the world, mount the stick and it will be your horse." henry was on the point of throwing this useless stick into the woods but he wished to be polite, and receiving it smilingly, he thanked the wolf cordially. "get on my back, henry," said the wolf. henry sprang upon the wolf's back and he made a bound so prodigious that they landed immediately on the other side of the precipice. henry dismounted, thanked the wolf and walked on vigorously. the fishing at last, after so many labors and perils, henry saw the lattice of the garden in which the plant of life was growing and his heart bounded for joy. he looked always upward as he walked, and went on as rapidly as his strength would permit, when suddenly he fell into a hole. he sprang backwards, looked anxiously around him and saw a ditch full of water, large and long, so long indeed that he could not see either end. "without doubt this is that last obstacle of which the crow spoke to me," said henry to himself. "since i have overcome all my other difficulties with the help of the good fairy bienfaisante, she will assist me to surmount this also. it was surely she who sent me the cock, the crow and the old man, the giant and the wolf. i will wait patiently till it shall please her to assist me this time." on saying these words, henry began to walk along the ditch, hoping to find the end. he walked on steadily two days and found himself at the end of that time just where he had started. henry would not give way to distress, he would not be discouraged; he seated himself on the borders of the ditch and said: "i will not move from this spot till the genius of the mountain allows me to pass this ditch." henry had just uttered these words when an enormous cat appeared before him and began to mew so horribly that he was almost deafened by the sound. the cat said to him: "what are you doing here? do you not know that i could tear you to pieces with one stroke of my claws?" "i do not doubt your power, mr. cat, but you will not do so when you know that i am seeking the plant of life to save my poor mother who is dying. if you will permit me to pass your ditch, i will do anything in my power to please you." "will you?" said the cat. "well, then, listen; your countenance pleases me. if, therefore, you will catch all the fish in this ditch and salt and cook them, i will pass you over to the other side, on the faith of a cat!" henry advanced some steps and saw lines, fish-hooks, bait, and nets on the ground. he took a net, and hoped that by one vigorous haul he would take many fish and that he would succeed much better than with a line and hook. he threw the net and drew it in with great caution. but alas! he had caught nothing! disappointed, henry thought he had not been adroit. he threw the net again and drew it very softly: still nothing! henry was patient. for ten days he tried faithfully without having caught a single fish. then he gave up the net and tried the hook and line. he waited an hour, two hours;--not a single fish bit at the bait! he moved from place to place, till he had gone entirely around the ditch. he tried diligently fifteen days and caught not a single fish. he knew not now what to do. he thought of the good fairy bienfaisante, who had abandoned him at the end of his undertaking. he seated himself sadly and gazed intently at the ditch when suddenly the water began to boil and he saw the head of a frog appear. "henry," said the frog, "you saved my life--i wish now to save yours in return. if you do not execute the orders of the cat of the mountain he will eat you for his breakfast. you cannot catch the fish because the water is so deep and they take refuge at the bottom. but allow me to act for you. light your fire for cooking and prepare your vessels for salting. i will bring you the fish." saying these words, the frog plunged back into the water. henry saw that the waves were agitated and boiling up, as if a grand contest was going on at the bottom of the ditch. in a moment, however, the frog reappeared, sprang ashore and deposited a superb salmon which he had caught. henry had scarcely time to seize the salmon when the frog leaped ashore with a carp. during sixty days the frog continued his labors. henry cooked the large fish and threw the little ones into the casks to be salted. finally, at the end of two months, the frog leaped towards henry and said: "there is not now a single fish in the ditch. you can call the cat of the mountain." henry thanked the frog heartily, who extended his wet foot towards him, in sign of friendship. henry pressed it affectionately and gratefully and the frog disappeared. it took henry fifteen days to arrange properly all the large fish he had cooked and all the casks of small fish he had salted. he then called the cat, who appeared immediately. "mr. cat," said henry, "here are all your fish cooked and salted. will you now keep your promise and pass me over to the other side?" the cat examined the fish and the casks; tasted a salted and a cooked fish, licked his lips, smiled and said to henry: "you are a brave boy! i will recompense your fortitude and patience. it shall never be said that the cat of the mountain does not pay his servants." saying these words, the cat tore off one of his own claws and said, handing it to henry: "when you are sick or feel yourself growing old, touch your forehead with this claw. sickness, suffering and old age will disappear. this miraculous claw will have the same virtue for all that you love and all who love you." henry thanked the cat most warmly, took the precious claw and wished to try its powers immediately, as he felt painfully weary. the claw had scarcely touched his brow when he felt as fresh and vigorous as if he had just left his bed. the cat looked on smiling, and said: "now get on my tail." henry obeyed. he was no sooner seated on the cat's tail than he saw the tail lengthen itself till it reached across the ditch. the plant of life when he had saluted the cat respectfully, henry ran towards the garden of the plant of life, which was only a hundred steps from him. he trembled lest some new obstacle should retard him but he reached the garden lattice without any difficulty. he sought the gate and found it readily, as the garden was not large. but, alas! the garden was filled with innumerable plants utterly unknown to him and it was impossible to know how to distinguish the plant of life. happily he remembered that the good fairy bienfaisante had told him that when he reached the summit of the mountain he must call the doctor who cultivated the garden of the fairies. he called him then with a loud voice. in a moment he heard a noise among the plants near him and saw issue from them a little man, no taller than a hearth brush. he had a book under his arm, spectacles on his crooked little nose and wore the great black cloak of a doctor. [illustration: "_what are you seeking little one?_"] "what are you seeking, little one?" said the doctor; "and how is it possible that you have gained this summit?" "doctor, i come from the fairy bienfaisante, to ask the plant of life to cure my poor sick mother, who is about to die." "all those who come from the fairy bienfaisante," said the little doctor, raising his hat respectfully, "are most welcome. come, my boy, i will give you the plant you seek." the doctor then buried himself in the botanical garden where henry had some trouble in following him, as he was so small as to disappear entirely among the plants. at last they arrived near a bush growing by itself. the doctor drew a little pruning-knife from his pocket, cut a bunch and gave it to henry, saying: "take this and use it as the good fairy bienfaisante directed but do not allow it to leave your hands. if you lay it down under any circumstances it will escape from you and you will never recover it." henry was about to thank him but the little man had disappeared in the midst of his medicinal herbs, and he found himself alone. "what shall i do now in order to arrive quickly at home? if i encounter on my return the same obstacles which met me as i came up the mountain, i shall perhaps lose my plant, my dear plant, which should restore my dear mother to life." happily henry now remembered the stick which the wolf had given him. "well, let us see," said he, "if this stick has really the power to carry me home." saying this, he mounted the stick and wished himself at home. in the same moment he felt himself raised in the air, through which he passed with the rapidity of lightning and found himself almost instantly by his mother's bed. henry sprang to his mother and embraced her tenderly. but she neither saw nor heard him. he lost no time, but pressed the plant of life upon her lips. at the same moment she opened her eyes, threw her arms around henry's neck and exclaimed: "my child! my dear henry! i have been very sick but now i feel almost well. i am hungry." then, looking at him in amazement, she said: "how you have grown, my darling! how is this? how can you have changed so in a few days?" henry had indeed grown a head taller. two years, seven months and six days had passed away since he left his home. he was now nearly ten years old. before he had time to answer, the window opened and the good fairy bienfaisante appeared. she embraced henry and, approaching the couch of his mother, related to her all that little henry had done and suffered, the dangers he had dared, the fatigues he endured; the courage, the patience, the goodness he had manifested. henry blushed on hearing himself thus praised by the fairy. his mother pressed him to her heart, and covered him with kisses. after the first moments of happiness and emotion had passed away, the fairy said: "now, henry, you can make use of the present of the little old man and the giant of the mountain." henry drew out his little box and opened it. immediately there issued from it a crowd of little workmen, not larger than bees, who filled the room. they began to work with such promptitude that in a quarter of an hour they had built and furnished a beautiful house in the midst of a lovely garden with a thick wood on one side and a beautiful meadow on the other. "all this is yours, my brave henry," said the fairy. "the giant's thistle will obtain for you all that is necessary. the wolf's staff will transport you where you wish. the cat's claw will preserve your health and your youth and also that of your dear mother. adieu, henry! be happy and never forget that virtue and filial love are always recompensed." henry threw himself on his knees before the fairy who gave him her hand to kiss, smiled upon him and disappeared. henry's mother had a great desire to arise from her bed and admire her new house, her garden, her woods and her meadow. but, alas! she had no dress. during her first illness she had made henry sell all that she possessed, as they were suffering for bread. "alas! alas! my child, i cannot leave my bed. i have neither dresses nor shoes." "you shall have all those things, dear mother," exclaimed henry. drawing his thistle from his pocket, he smelled it while he wished for dresses, linen, shoes for his mother and himself and also for linen for the house. at the same moment the presses were filled with linen, his mother was dressed in a good and beautiful robe of merino and henry completely clothed in blue cloth, with good, substantial shoes. they both uttered a cry of joy. his mother sprang from her bed to run through the house with henry. nothing was wanting. everywhere the furniture was good and comfortable. the kitchen was filled with pots and kettles; but there was nothing in them. henry again put his thistle to his nose and desired to have a good dinner served up. a table soon appeared, with good smoking soup, a splendid leg of lamb, a roasted pullet and good salad. they took seats at the table with the appetite of those who had not eaten for three years. the soup was soon swallowed, the leg of lamb entirely eaten, then the pullet, then the salad. when their hunger was thus appeased, the mother, aided by henry, took off the cloth, washed and arranged all the dishes and then put the kitchen in perfect order. they then made up their beds with the sheets they found in the presses and went happily to bed, thanking god and the good fairy bienfaisante. the mother also gave grateful thanks for her dear son henry. they lived thus most happily, they wanted nothing--the thistle provided everything. they did not grow old or sick--the claw cured every ill. they never used the staff, as they were too happy at home ever to desire to leave it. henry asked of his thistle only two cows, two good horses and the necessaries of life for every day. he wished for nothing superfluous, either in clothing or food and thus he preserved his thistle as long as he lived. it is not known when they died. it is supposed that the queen of the fairies made them immortal and transported them to her palace, where they still are. the princess rosette history of princess rosette the farm there was once a king and queen, who had three daughters. the two eldest were twins--orangine and roussette--and their parents loved them very dearly. they were beautiful and intelligent, but they were not very good. in this they resembled the king and queen. the third princess was called rosette and was three years younger than her sisters. she was as amiable as she was handsome, as good as she was beautiful. the fairy puissante was rosette's godmother and this made her two sisters, orangine and roussette, very jealous. they were angry because they also had not a fairy for their godmother. some days after the birth of rosette, the king and queen sent her to the country, on a farm, to be nursed. rosette lived happily here for fifteen years without her parents coming once to see her. every year they sent a small sum of money to the farmer to pay rosette's expenses and asked some questions as to her health, but they never came to see her nor disturbed themselves about her education. rosette would indeed have been very rude and ignorant if her good godmother, the fairy puissante, had not sent her teachers and all that was necessary. in this way rosette learned to read, to write, to keep accounts and to work beautifully. she became an accomplished musician, she knew how to draw and spoke several languages. rosette was the most beautiful, the most attractive, the most amiable and the most excellent princess in the whole world. she had never disobeyed her nurse or godmother, and had therefore never been reproved. she did not regret her father and mother, as she did not know them and she did not desire any other home than the farm where she had been so happy. one day when rosette was seated on a bench before the door, she saw a man arrive in a laced hat and coat; he approached her and asked if he could speak to the princess rosette. "yes, without doubt," answered the princess; "i am the princess rosette." [illustration: _she saw a man arrive in a laced hat and coat_] "then, princess," said the man, respectfully taking off his hat, "be graciously pleased to receive this letter, which the king your father has charged me to deliver to you." rosette took the letter, opened it, and read the following: "rosette: your sisters are now eighteen years old and it is time they were married. i have invited the princes and princesses of all the kingdoms of the earth to come and assist at a festival which i intend to give in order to choose husbands for orangine and roussette. you are now fifteen years old and can properly appear at this festival. you may come and pass three days with me. i will send for you in eight days. i cannot send you any money for your toilet as i am now at great expense for your sisters; besides, no one will look at you. come, therefore, in any clothes you please. "the king your father." rosette ran quickly to show this letter to her nurse. "are you pleased, rosette, to go to this festival?" "yes, my good nurse, i am delighted. i will enjoy myself and become acquainted with my father, mother and my sisters and then i will return to you." "but," said the nurse, shaking her head, "what dress will you wear, my poor child?" "my beautiful robe of white percale which i always wear on holidays, my dear nurse." "my poor little one, that robe is indeed very suitable for the country but would appear miserably poor at a party of kings and princes." "of what consequence is all this, nurse? my father himself has said that no one will look at me. this thought will make me much more at my ease. i shall see all and no one will see me." the nurse sighed but said nothing and began immediately to mend, whiten and smooth rosette's white robe. the day before the king was to send for her, the nurse called her and said: "my dear child, here is your dress for the king's festival; be very careful with it as i shall not be there to whiten and smooth it for you." "thanks, my good nurse; be satisfied--i will take great care." the nurse now packed in a little trunk the percale robe and white skirt, a pair of cotton stockings and black shoes and then a little bouquet of flowers for rosette to wear in her hair. just as she was about to close the trunk, the window opened violently and the fairy puissante entered. "you are going, then, to your father's court, my dear rosette?" said the fairy. "yes, dear godmother, but only for three days." "but what dress have you prepared for those three days?" "look, godmother! look!" and she pointed to the trunk, which was still open. the fairy smiled, drew a small bottle from her pocket and said: "i intend that my dear rosette shall make a sensation by her dress. this is unworthy of her." the fairy opened the bottle, and threw some drops of the liquid it contained upon the robe, which became a coarse india rubber cloth; then a drop upon the cotton stockings, which changed into blue yarn; a third drop upon the bouquet, which became a hen's egg; a fourth upon the shoes, and they immediately changed into coarse felt. "in this manner," said she, with a gracious air, "do i wish my rosette to appear. you must attire yourself in all this and, to complete your toilette, here is a necklace of nuts, a band for your hair of burrs, and bracelets of dried beans." she kissed rosette who was completely stupefied. the fairy then disappeared and the nurse burst into tears. "alas! it was not worth my while to give myself all the trouble of preparing this poor robe. oh, my poor rosette! do not go to this festival. pretend you are ill, my child." "no," said rosette; "that would be to displease my godmother. i am sure that she does what is best for me. she is much wiser than i am. i will go and i will wear all that my godmother has brought me." and the good and obedient rosette thought no more of her dress. she went to bed and slept tranquilly. she had scarce arranged her hair and dressed herself in the morning when the chariot of the fairy came for her. she embraced her nurse, took her little trunk and departed. rosette at the court of the king her father they were but two hours on the way, for the king's capital was only ten leagues from the farm. when rosette arrived, she was surprised to see that she had to descend in a little, dirty court-yard, where a page attended her. "come, princess, i am commissioned to conduct you to your chamber." "can i not see the queen my mother?" asked rosette, timidly. "in two hours, princess, when they are assembled for dinner, you will see her. in the mean time you can dress." rosette followed the page, who led her through a long corridor, at the end of which was a narrow staircase. she ascended, slowly, after a long, long time arriving at another corridor where she entered the chamber destined for her. the queen had lodged rosette in one of the servants' rooms. the little page placed rosette's modest trunk in a corner and said, with an air of embarrassment, "pardon me, princess, for having led you into this chamber, so unworthy of you. the queen has disposed of all the other apartments for her guests, the kings, queens, princes and princesses. there was no other room vacant and----" "well, well," said rosette, smiling, "i shall not blame you. besides, i shall be very comfortable." "i will come for you, princess, to lead you to the king and queen at the proper hour." "i will be ready," said rosette, "adieu, pretty page." rosette now unpacked her trunk. her heart was beating and swelling tumultuously. sighing heavily, she drew out her robe of coarse cloth and the other articles of her toilette. rosette was very adroit. she arranged her exquisite blonde hair most beautifully, with a pullet's feather and a band made of burrs. her head-dress was indeed so charming that it made her a hundred times more lovely. when she had put on her shoes and stockings and her robe, what was her amazement to see that it was made of gold brocade, embroidered with rubies of marvellous beauty; her coarse heavy shoes were now white satin, adorned with buckles of one single ruby of wonderful splendour; her stockings were of silk and as fine as a spider's web; her necklace was of rubies surrounded with large diamonds; her bracelets of diamonds, the most splendid that had ever been seen. rosette now ran to the glass and saw that the pullet's wing had become a magnificent locket and that the pendant was a carbuncle of such beauty and brilliancy that a fairy alone could possess it. rosette, happy, delighted, exultant, danced around the little room and thanked her good godmother aloud for having tested her obedience and thus magnificently rewarded it. the page now knocked at the door, entered and started back, dazzled by the beauty of rosette and the magnificence of her toilette. rosette followed him. they descended the stairs, passed through many apartments and at last entered a suite of superb salons, filled with kings, queens and nobles. every one who saw rosette paused and turned to admire her. the modest princess, however, was ashamed to be thus gazed at and did not dare raise her eyes. at last the page paused and said to rosette: "princess, behold the queen your mother and the king!" rosette raised her eyes and saw just before her the king and queen who regarded her with a comic surprise. "madam," said the king at last to her, "be graciously pleased to tell me your name. you are no doubt some great queen or still greater fairy whose unexpected presence is an honor and a happiness for us." "sire," said rosette, falling gracefully upon her knees, "i am neither a great queen nor a powerful fairy but your daughter rosette, for whom you were kind enough to send." "rosette!" exclaimed the queen; "rosette clothed more magnificently than i have ever been! who, then, miss, has given you all these beautiful things?" "my godmother, madam. graciously permit me, madam, to kiss your hand and present me to my sisters." the queen gave her hand coldly. then pointing to orangine and roussette, who were by her side, she said: "there are your sisters." poor rosette, saddened by this cold welcome from her father and mother, turned gladly towards her sisters and wished to embrace them but they drew back with terror, fearing that while embracing them rosette would displace the red and white with which they were painted. orangine covered herself with white to conceal her yellow skin and roussette to hide her ugly freckles. rosette was repulsed by her sisters but was soon surrounded by the ladies of the court and all the invited princes. as she conversed with ready grace and goodness and spoke several languages she charmed all those who approached her. orangine and roussette were frightfully jealous. the king and queen were furious for rosette absorbed all attention; no one paid any attention to the sisters. at table the young prince charmant, who was monarch of the most magnificent and beautiful of all the kingdoms of the earth and whom orangine hoped to wed, placed himself by the side of rosette and was completely absorbed in her during the repast. after dinner, orangine and roussette, in order to draw some attention towards themselves, sang a duet. they sang indeed admirably and accompanied themselves on the harp. rosette who was truly good and wished her sister to love her, applauded them rapturously and complimented them on their talent. orangine, in place of being touched by this generous sentiment and hoping to play her sister a malicious trick, now insisted upon her singing. rosette for some time modestly refused. her sisters, who supposed that she did not know how to sing, were insistent. the queen herself, desiring to humiliate poor rosette, joined her entreaties to those of orangine and roussette and in fact commanded the young princess to sing. rosette curtsied to the queen. "i obey, madam," said she. she took the harp and the enchanting grace of her position astonished her sisters. they would have been glad indeed to interrupt her when she commenced her prelude for they saw at a glance that her talent was much superior to theirs. but when, in a beautiful and melodious voice, she sang a romance, composed by herself on the happiness of being good and beloved there was an outbreak of admiration, the enthusiasm became general and her sisters almost fainted with jealousy and envy. charmant was transported with admiration. he approached rosette, his eyes moistened with tears and said to her: "enchanting and lovely princess, i have never heard so touching a voice. can i not have the happiness of hearing you once more?" rosette, who was painfully aware of the jealousy of her sisters, excused herself, saying she was fatigued. prince charmant, who had clear intellect and penetration, divined the true motive of her refusal and admired rosette still more for her delicacy. the queen, irritated by the success of rosette, terminated the party at an early hour and retired. rosette returned to her little room and undressed herself. she removed her robe and her ornaments and put them in a superb case of ebony which she found in her room. much to her surprise, she found in her little trunk the robe of coarse cloth, the pullet feather, the necklace of nuts, the burrs, the dry beans, the coarse shoes of felt and the blue yarn stockings. she would not allow herself, however, to be disquieted, certain that her good godmother would come to her assistance at the proper time. rosette was indeed saddened by the coldness of her parents and the jealousy of her sisters; but, as she scarcely knew them, this painful impression was effaced by the remembrance of the prince charmant, who appeared so good and who had been so flattering in his attention to her. rosette soon slept peacefully and awoke late in the morning. family council while rosette was only occupied with smiling and pleasant thoughts, the king, the queen and the princesses orangine and roussette were choking with rage. they had all assembled in the queen's apartment. "this is too horrible," said the princesses. "why did you send for this rosette, who has such dazzling jewels and makes herself admired and sought after by all these foolish kings and princes? was it to humiliate us, my father, that you called us to the court at this time?" "i swear to you, my beautiful darlings," said the king, "that it was by the order of the fairy puissante i was compelled to write for her to come. besides, i did not know that she was so beautiful and that----" "so beautiful!" interrupted the princesses. "where do you find her so beautiful? she is indeed ugly and coarse. it is her magnificent attire alone which makes her admired. why have you not given to us your most superb jewels and your richest robes? we have the air of young slovens by the side of this proud princess." "and where could i possibly have found jewels as magnificent as hers? i have none which would compare with them. it is her godmother, the fairy puissante, who has lent her these jewels." "why, then, did you summon a fairy to be the godmother of rosette, when you gave to us only queens for our godmothers?" "it was not your father who called her," cried the queen. "the fairy puissante herself, without being called, appeared to us and signified that she would be rosette's godmother." "it is not worth while to spend the time in disputing and quarrelling," said the king. "it is better to occupy ourselves in finding some means of getting rid of rosette and preventing prince charmant from seeing her again." "nothing more easy than that," said the queen. "i will have her despoiled to-morrow of her rare jewels and her beautiful robes. i will order my servants to seize her and carry her back to the farm which she shall never leave again." the queen had scarcely uttered these words, when the fairy puissante appeared with an angry and threatening air. "if you dare to touch rosette," said she, with a thundering voice, "if you do not keep her at the palace, if she is not present at all the parties, you shall feel the terrible effects of my anger. you unworthy king and you heartless queen, you shall be changed into toads and you, odious daughters and sisters, shall become vipers. dare now to touch rosette!" saying these words, she disappeared. the king, the queen and princesses were horribly frightened and separated without saying a single word but their hearts were filled with rage. the princesses slept but little and were yet more furious in the morning when they saw their eyes heavy and their features convulsed by evil passions. in vain they used rouge and powder and beat their maids. they had no longer a vestige of beauty. the king and queen were as unhappy and as despairing as the princesses and indeed they saw no remedy for their grief and disappointment. second day of the festival in the morning a coarse servant brought rosette bread and milk and offered her services to dress her. rosette, who did not wish this rude domestic to see the change in her dress, thanked her smilingly and replied that she was in the habit of arranging her hair and dressing herself. rosette then began her toilette. when she had washed and combed her hair she wished to arrange it with the superb carbuncle she had worn the day before but she saw with surprise that the ebony case had disappeared and in its place was a small wooden trunk, upon which there lay a folded paper. she took it and read the following directions: "here are your things, rosette. dress yourself as you were dressed yesterday, in the clothing you brought from the farm." rosette did not hesitate an instant, certain that her godmother would come to her help at the proper time. she arranged her pullet wing in a different manner from that of the day before, put on her dress, her necklace, her shoes, her bracelets and then stood before the glass. when she saw her own reflection in the mirror she was amazed. she was attired in the richest and most splendid riding-suit of sky-blue velvet and pearl buttons as large as walnuts; her stockings were bordered with a wreath of pearls; her head-dress was a cap of sky-blue velvet with a long plume of dazzling whiteness, which floated down to her waist and was attached by a single pearl of unparalleled beauty and splendor. the boots were also of blue velvet embroidered in gold and pearls. her bracelets and necklace also were of pearls, so large and so pure that a single one would have paid for the king's palace. at the moment when rosette was about to leave her chamber to follow the page, a sweet voice whispered in her ear, "rosette, do not mount any other horse than the one the prince charmant will present you." she turned and saw no one; but she felt convinced that this counsel came from her good godmother. "thanks, dear godmother," she said, in low tones. she felt a sweet kiss upon her cheek and smiled with happiness and gratitude. the little page conducted her, as the day before, into the royal salon, where her appearance produced a greater effect than before. her fine, sweet countenance, her splendid figure, her magnificent dress, allured all eyes and captivated all hearts. the prince charmant, who was evidently expecting her, advanced to meet her, offered his arm and led her to the king and queen who received her with more coldness than the day before. orangine and roussette were bursting with spite at the sight of the splendid appearance of rosette. they would not even say good-day to their sister. the good, young princess was of course somewhat embarrassed by this reception but the prince charmant, seeing her distress, approached and asked permission to be her companion during the chase in the forest. "it will be a great pleasure to me," replied rosette, who did not know how to dissimulate. "it seems to me," said he, "that i am your brother, so great is the affection which i feel for you, charming princess. permit me to remain by your side and to defend you against all enemies." "it will be an honor and a pleasure for me to be protected by a king so worthy of the name he bears." prince charmant was enchanted by this gracious reply and, notwithstanding the malice of orangine and roussette, who tried in every possible way to attract him to themselves, he did not leave rosette's side for a moment. after breakfast they descended to the court for a ride on horseback. a page advanced to rosette, leading a splendid black horse, which could scarcely be held by the grooms, it was so wild and vicious. "you must not ride this horse, princess," said prince charmant, "it will certainly kill you. bring another horse for the princess," he said, turning to the page. "the king and the queen gave orders that the princess should ride no other horse than this," said the page. at this the prince exclaimed: "dear princess, wait but for a moment; i myself will bring you a horse worthy of you but i implore you not to mount this dangerous animal." "i will wait your return," said rosette, with a gracious smile. a few moments afterwards prince charmant appeared, leading a magnificent horse, white as snow. the saddle was of blue velvet, embroidered in pearls and the bridle was of gold and pearls. when rosette wished to mount, the horse knelt down and rose quietly when she had placed herself in the saddle. prince charmant sprang lightly upon his beautiful steed alezan and placed himself by the side of the princess rosette. the king, the queen and the princesses, who had seen all this, were pale with rage but they dared say nothing for fear of the fairy puissante. the king gave the signal to depart. every lady had her attendant gentleman. orangine and roussette were obliged to content themselves with two insignificant princes who were neither so young nor so handsome as prince charmant. orangine and roussette were so sulky that even these princes declared they would never wed princesses so uninteresting. in place of following the chase, prince charmant and rosette wandered in the beautiful shady walks of the forest, talking merrily and giving accounts of their past lives. "but," said charmant, "if the king your father has not allowed you to reside in his palace, how is it that he has given you such beautiful jewels, worthy of a fairy?" "it is to my good godmother that i owe them," replied rosette. and then she told prince charmant how she had been educated on a farm and that she was indebted to the fairy puissante for everything that she knew and everything she valued. the fairy had watched over her education and granted her every wish of her heart. charmant listened with a lively interest and a tender compassion. and now, in his turn, he told rosette that he had been left an orphan at the age of seven years; that the fairy puissante had presided over his education; that she had also sent him to the festivals given by the king, telling him he would find there the perfect woman he was seeking. "in short, i believe, dear rosette, that i have found in you the charming and perfect creature of whom the fairy spoke. deign, princess, to connect your life with mine and authorize me to demand your hand of your parents." "before answering, dear prince, i must obtain permission of my godmother but you may be sure that i shall be very happy to pass my life with you." the morning thus passed away most agreeably for rosette and charmant and they returned to the palace to dress for dinner. rosette entered her ugly garret and saw before her a magnificent box of rosewood, wide open. she undressed and as she removed her articles of clothing they arranged themselves in the box, which then closed firmly. she arranged her hair and dressed herself with her usual neatness and then ran to the glass. she could not suppress a cry of admiration. her robe was of gauze and was so fine and light, and brilliant it looked as if woven of the wings of butterflies. it was studded with diamonds as brilliant as stars. the hem of this robe, the corsage and the waist were trimmed with diamond fringe which sparkled like suns. her hair was partly covered with a net of diamonds from which a tassel of immense diamonds fell to her shoulders. every diamond was as large as a pear and was worth a kingdom. her necklace and bracelets were so immense and so brilliant that you could not look at them fixedly without being blinded. the young princess thanked her godmother most tenderly and felt again upon her fair cheek the sweet kiss of the morning. she followed the page and entered the royal salon. prince charmant was awaiting her at the door, offered her his arm and conducted her to the apartment of the king and queen. rosette advanced to salute them. charmant saw with indignation the glances of rage and revenge which the king, queen and princesses cast upon poor rosette. he remained by her side as he had done in the morning and was witness to the admiration which she inspired and the malice and envy of her sisters. rosette was indeed sad to find herself the object of hatred to her father, mother and sisters. charmant perceived her melancholy and asked the cause. she explained it to him frankly. "when, oh! when, my dear rosette, will you permit me to ask your hand of your father? in my kingdom every one will love you and i more than all the rest." "to-morrow, dear prince, i will send you the reply of my godmother whom i shall question on the subject this evening." they were now summoned to dinner. charmant placed himself at rosette's side and they conversed in a most agreeable manner. after dinner the king gave orders for the ball to commence. orangine and roussette, who had taken lessons for ten years, danced well but without any peculiar grace. they believed that rosette had never had any opportunity to dance and with a mocking, malicious air, they now announced to her that it was her turn. the modest rosette hesitated and drew back because it was repugnant to her to show herself in public and attract the general regard. but the more she declined, the more her envious sisters insisted, hoping that she would at last suffer a real humiliation. the queen now interfered and sternly commanded rosette to dance. rosette rose at once to obey the queen. charmant, seeing her embarrassment, said to her in low tones: "i will be your partner, dear rosette. if you do not know a single step, let me execute it for you alone." "thanks, dear prince. i recognize and am grateful for your courtesy. i accept you for my partner and hope that you will not have occasion to blush for your generosity." and now rosette and charmant commenced. a more animated, graceful and light dance was never seen. all present gazed at them with ever increasing admiration. rosette was so superior in dancing to orangine and roussette, that they could scarcely suppress their rage. they wished to throw themselves upon the young princess, choke her and tear her diamonds from her. the king and queen, who had been watching them and divined their intention, stopped them, and whispered in their ears: "remember the threats and power of the fairy puissante! to-morrow shall be the last day." when the dance was concluded, the most rapturous applause resounded throughout the hall and every one entreated charmant and rosette to repeat the dance. as they felt no fatigue they did not wish to seem disobliging and executed a new dance, more graceful and attractive than the first. orangine and roussette could no longer control themselves. they were suffocating with rage, fainted and were carried from the room. they had become so marked by the passions of envy and rage that they had lost every vestige of beauty and no one had any sympathy for them, as all had seen their jealousy and wickedness. the applause and enthusiasm for rosette and charmant were so overpowering that they sought refuge in the garden. they walked side by side during the rest of the evening, and talked merrily and happily over their plans for the future, if the fairy puissante would permit them to unite the smooth current of their lives. the diamonds of rosette sparkled with such brilliancy that the alleys where they walked and the little groves where they seated themselves, seemed illuminated by a thousand stars. at last it was necessary to separate. [illustration: _they walked side by side during the rest of the evening_] "to-morrow!" said rosette, "to-morrow i hope to say, _yours eternally_." rosette entered her little room. as she undressed, her clothing arranged itself as the day before in the case. this new case was of carved ivory and studded with turquoise nails. when rosette had lain down peacefully upon her bed she put out the light, and said, in a low voice: "my dear, good godmother, to-morrow i must give a definite answer to prince charmant. dictate my response, dear godmother. i will obey your command, no matter how painful it may be." "say yes, my dear rosette, to prince charmant," replied the soft voice of the fairy. "i myself arranged this marriage. it was to make you acquainted with prince charmant that i forced your father to invite you to this festival." rosette thanked the kind fairy and slept the sleep of innocence, after having felt the maternal lips of her good protectress upon her cheeks. third and last day of the festival while rosette was thus sleeping peacefully, the king, the queen, and orangine and roussette, purple with rage, were quarrelling and disputing amongst themselves. each was accusing the other of having brought about the triumph of rosette and their own humiliating defeat. one last hope remained for them. in the morning there was to be a chariot race. each chariot was to be drawn by two horses and driven by a lady. it was resolved to give rosette a very high chariot, drawn by two wild, untrained and prancing horses. "prince charmant will have no chariot and horses to exchange," said the queen, "as he had this morning in the case of the riding-horse. it is easy to find a horse for the saddle but it will be impossible for him to find a chariot ready for the course." the consoling thought that rosette might be killed or grievously wounded and disfigured on the morrow brought peace to these four wicked beings. they retired and dreamed of the next best means of ridding themselves of rosette if the chariot race failed. orangine and roussette slept but little so that in the morning they were still uglier and more unprepossessing than they had appeared the day before. rosette, who had a tranquil conscience and contented heart, slept all night calmly. she had been much fatigued and did not wake till a late hour. indeed, on rising she found she had scarcely time to dress. the coarse kitchen girl brought her a cup of milk and a piece of bread. this was by order of the queen who directed that she should be treated like a servant. rosette was not difficult to please. she ate the coarse bread and milk with appetite and began to dress. the case of carved ivory had disappeared. she put on as usual her robe of coarse cloth, her pullet's wing, and all the rude ornaments she had brought from the farm and then looked at herself in the glass. she was attired in a riding habit of straw-colored satin, embroidered in front and at the hem with sapphires and emeralds. her hat was of white velvet, ornamented with plumes of a thousand colors, taken from the plumage of the rarest birds and attached by a sapphire larger than an egg. on her neck was a chain of sapphires, at the end of which was a watch, the face of which was opal, the back a carved sapphire and the glass diamond. this watch was always going, was never out of order and never required to be wound up. rosette heard her page at the door and followed him. on entering the salon she perceived prince charmant, who was awaiting her with the most lively impatience. he sprang forward to receive her, offered his arm and said with eagerness:-"well, dear princess, what did the fairy say to you? what answer do you give me?" "that which my heart dictated, sweet prince. i consecrate my life to you as you have dedicated yours to me." "thanks! a thousand times thanks, dear and bewitching rosette. when may i demand your hand of the king your father?" "at the close of the chariot race, dear prince." "permit me to add to my first petition that of being married to you this very day. i cannot bear to see you subjected to the tyranny of your family and i wish to conduct you at once to my kingdom." rosette hesitated. the soft voice of the fairy whispered in her ear, "accept." the same voice whispered to charmant, "press the marriage, prince and speak to the king without delay. rosette's life is in danger and during eight days from the setting of the sun this evening i cannot watch over her." charmant trembled and repeated the fairy's words to rosette, who replied that it was a warning they must not neglect as it undoubtedly came from the fairy puissante. the princess now advanced to salute the king, the queen and her sisters but they neither looked at her nor spoke to her. she was however immediately surrounded by a crowd of kings and princes, each one of whom had himself proposed to ask her hand in marriage that evening but no one had an opportunity to speak to her as charmant never left her side a single moment. after the repast they went down to get into the chariots. the kings and princes were to go on horseback and the ladies to drive the chariots. the chariot designed for rosette by the queen was now brought forward. charmant seized rosette at the moment she was about to take the reins and lifted her to the ground. "you shall not enter this chariot, princess. look at these wild ungovernable horses." rosette now saw that it took four men to hold each of the horses and that they were prancing and jumping alarmingly. at this instant a pretty little jockey, attired in a straw-colored satin vest, with blue ribbon knots, exclaimed in silvery tones:-"the equipage of the princess rosette!" and now a little chariot of pearls and mother-of-pearl, drawn by two magnificent steeds with harness of straw-colored velvet ornamented with sapphires, drew up before the princess. charmant scarcely knew whether to allow rosette to mount this unknown chariot for he still feared some cunning wickedness of the king and queen. but the voice of the fairy sounded in his ear:-"allow rosette to ascend the chariot; these horses are a present from me. follow them wherever they may take rosette. the day is advancing. i have but a few hours left in which i can be of service to rosette and she must be safe in your kingdom before the day closes." charmant assisted rosette to ascend the chariot and sprang upon his horse. a few moments afterwards, two chariots driven by veiled women advanced in front of rosette. one of them dashed her chariot with such violence against that of rosette, that the little chariot of mother-of-pearl would inevitably have been crushed had it not been constructed by fairies. the heavy and massive chariot was dashed to pieces instead of rosette's. the veiled woman was thrown upon the stones, where she remained immovable whilst rosette, who had recognized orangine, tried to stop her own horses. the other chariot now dashed against that of rosette and was crushed like the first and the veiled woman was also dashed upon the stones, which seemed placed there to receive her. rosette recognised roussette and was about to descend from her chariot when charmant interfered, and said: "listen, rosette!" a voice whispered, "go, flee quickly! the king is pursuing you with a great company to kill you both. the sun will set in a few hours. i have barely time to rescue you from this danger so give my horses the reins; charmant, abandon yours." charmant sprang into the chariot by the side of rosette, who was more dead than alive. the superb steeds set off with such marvellous speed that they made more than twenty leagues an hour. for a long time they knew that they were pursued by the king with a numerous troop of armed men but they could not overtake the horses of the fairy. the chariot still flew on with lightning haste; the horses increased their speed till at last they made a hundred leagues an hour. during six hours they kept up this rate and then drew up at the foot of the stairs of prince charmant. the whole palace was illuminated and all the courtiers were waiting at the entrance in their most magnificent costumes to welcome the princess and the prince. the prince and rosette were amazed, not knowing how to understand this unexpected reception. charmant had just assisted the princess to descend from the chariot, when they saw before them the fairy puissante, who said:-"most welcome to your kingdom. prince charmant, follow me; all is prepared for your marriage. conduct rosette to her room that she may change her dress, whilst i explain to you all the events of this day which seem so incomprehensible to you. i have one hour at my disposal." the fairy and charmant now led rosette to an apartment, ornamented with the most exquisite taste, where she found her maids waiting to attend upon her. "i will return to seek you in a short time, my dear rosette," said the fairy; "my moments are counted." she departed with charmant and said to him:-"the hatred of the king and queen against rosette had become so intense that they had blindly resolved to defy my vengeance and to get rid of rosette. seeing that their cunning arrangements in the chariot race had not succeeded after i substituted my horses for those which would certainly have killed rosette, they resolved to have recourse to violence. the king employed a band of brigands, who swore to him a blind obedience; they pursued your steps with vengeance in their hearts and as the king knew your love for rosette and foresaw that you would defend her to the death, he was resolved to sacrifice you also to his hatred. orangine and roussette, ignorant of this last project of the king, attempted to kill rosette, as you have seen, by dashing their heavy chariots violently against the light chariot of the princess. i have punished them as they deserved. "orangine and roussette have had their faces so crushed and wounded by the stones that they have become frightful. i have aroused them from their state of unconsciousness, cured their wounds but left the hideous scars to disfigure them. i have deprived them of all their rich clothing and dressed them like peasants and i married them at once to two brutal ostlers whom i commissioned to beat and maltreat them until their wicked hearts are changed--and this i think will never take place. "as to the king and queen, i have changed them into beasts of burden and given them to wicked and cruel masters who will make them suffer for all their brutality to rosette. besides this, they have all been transported into your kingdom and they will be compelled to hear unceasingly the praises of rosette and her husband. "i have but one piece of advice to give you, dear prince; hide from rosette the punishment i have inflicted upon her parents and sisters. she is so good and tender-hearted that her happiness would be affected by it, but i ought not and will not take pity upon wicked people whose hearts are so vicious and unrepentant." charmant thanked the fairy eagerly and promised silence. they now returned to rosette, who was clothed in her wedding-robe, prepared by the fairy puissante. it was a tissue of dazzling golden gauze, embroidered with garlands of flowers and birds, in stones of all colors, of admirable beauty; the jewels which formed the birds were so disposed as to produce, at every motion of rosette, a warbling more melodious than the sweetest music. upon her head was a crown of flowers made of gems still more beautiful and rare than those on her robe. her neck and arms were covered with carbuncles more brilliant than the sun. charmant was completely dazzled by his bride's beauty but the fairy recalled him from his ecstasy by saying:-"quick! quick! onward! i have but half an hour, after which i must give myself up to the queen of the fairies and lose my power for eight days. we are all subject to this law and nothing can free us from it." charmant presented his hand to rosette and the fairy preceded them. they walked towards the chapel which was brilliantly illuminated and here charmant and rosette received the nuptial benediction. on returning to the parlor, they perceived that the fairy had disappeared, but, as they were sure of again seeing her in eight days her absence caused them no anxiety. charmant presented the new queen to his court. everybody found her as charming and good as the prince and they felt disposed to love her as they loved him. with a most amiable and thoughtful attention, the fairy had transported the farm, upon which rosette had been so happy, and all its occupants into charmant's kingdom. this farm was placed at the end of the park, so that rosette could walk there every day and see her good nurse. the fairy had also brought into the palace all those cases which contained the rich dresses in which rosette had been so triumphant at the festivals. [illustration: _the fairy must give herself up to the queen and lose her power for eight days_] rosette and charmant were very happy and loved each other tenderly always. rosette never knew the terrible punishment of her father, mother and sisters. when she asked charmant the fate of her sisters, he told her that their faces were much disfigured by their fall amongst the stones but they were well and married and the good fairy expressly forbade rosette to think of them. she spoke of them no more. as to orangine and roussette, the more unhappy they were, the more cruel and wicked their hearts became, so the fairy allowed them to remain always ugly and in the most degraded ranks of life. the king and queen, changed into beasts of burden, found their only consolation in biting and kicking everything that came within their reach. they were obliged to carry their masters to festivals given in honor of rosette's marriage and they were mad with rage when they heard the praises lavished upon the young couple and in seeing rosette pass by, beautiful, radiant and adored by charmant. the fairy had resolved that they should not return to their original forms till their hearts were changed. it is said that six thousand years have passed, and they are still beasts of burden. the little grey mouse the little grey mouse the little house there was once a man named prudent, who was a widower and he lived alone with his little daughter. his wife had died a few days after the birth of this little girl, who was named rosalie. rosalie's father had a large fortune. he lived in a great house, which belonged to him. this house was surrounded by a large garden in which rosalie walked whenever she pleased to do so. she had been trained with great tenderness and gentleness but her father had accustomed her to the most unquestioning obedience. he forbade her positively to ask him any useless questions or to insist upon knowing anything he did not wish to tell her. in this way, by unceasing care and watchfulness, he had almost succeeded in curing one of rosalie's great faults, a fault indeed unfortunately too common--curiosity. [illustration: _rosalie never left the park, which was surrounded by high walls_] rosalie never left the park, which was surrounded by high walls. she never saw any one but her father. they had no domestic in the house; everything seemed to be done of itself. she always had what she wanted--clothing, books, work, and playthings. her father educated her himself and although she was nearly fifteen years old, she was never weary and never thought that she might live otherwise and might see more of the world. there was a little house at the end of the park without windows and with but one door, which was always locked. rosalie's father entered this house every day and always carried the key about his person. rosalie thought it was only a little hut in which the garden-tools were kept. she never thought of speaking about it but one day, when she was seeking a watering-pot for her flowers, she said to him:-"father, please give me the key of the little house in the garden." "what do you want with this key, rosalie?" "i want a watering-pot and i think i could find one in that little house." "no, rosalie, there is no watering-pot there." prudent's voice trembled so in pronouncing these words that rosalie looked up with surprise, and saw that his face was pale and his forehead bathed in perspiration. "what is the matter, father?" said she, alarmed. "nothing, daughter, nothing." "it was my asking for the key which agitated you so violently, father. what does this little house contain which frightens you so much?" "rosalie, rosalie! you do not know what you are saying. go and look for your watering-pot in the green-house." "but, father, what is there in the little garden-house?" "nothing that can interest you, rosalie." "but why do you go there every day without permitting me to go with you?" "rosalie, you know that i do not like to be questioned and that curiosity is the greatest defect in your character." rosalie said no more but she remained very thoughtful. this little house, of which she had never before thought, was now constantly in her mind. "what can be concealed there?" she said to herself. "how pale my father turned when i asked his permission to enter! i am sure he thought i should be in some sort of danger. but why does he go there himself every day? it is no doubt to carry food to some ferocious beast confined there. but if it was some wild animal, would i not hear it roar or howl or shake the house? no, i have never heard any sound from this cabin. it cannot then be a beast. besides, if it was a ferocious beast, it would devour my father when he entered alone. perhaps, however, it is chained. but if it is indeed chained, then there would be no danger for me. what can it be? a prisoner? my father is good, he would not deprive any unfortunate innocent of light and liberty. well, i absolutely must discover this mystery. how shall i manage it? if i could only secretly get the key from my father for a half hour! perhaps some day he will forget it." rosalie was aroused from this chain of reflection by her father, who called to her with a strangely agitated voice. "here, father--i am coming." she entered the house and looked steadily at her father. his pale, sad countenance indicated great agitation. more than ever curious, she resolved to feign gaiety and indifference in order to allay her father's suspicions and make him feel secure. in this way she thought she might perhaps obtain possession of the key at some future time. he might not always think of it if she herself seemed to have forgotten it. they seated themselves at the table. prudent ate but little and was sad and silent, in spite of his efforts to appear gay. rosalie, however, seemed so thoughtless and bright that her father at last recovered his accustomed good spirits. rosalie would be fifteen years old in three weeks. her father had promised an agreeable surprise for this event. a few days passed peacefully away. there remained but fifteen days before her birth-day. one morning prudent said to rosalie:-"my dear child, i am compelled to be absent for one hour. i must go out to arrange something for your birth-day. wait for me in the house, my dear. do not yield yourself up to idle curiosity. in fifteen days you will know all that you desire to know, for i read your thoughts and i know what occupies your mind. adieu, my daughter, beware of curiosity!" prudent embraced his daughter tenderly and withdrew, leaving her with great reluctance. as soon as he was out of sight, rosalie ran to her father's room and what was her joy to see the key forgotten upon the table! she seized it and ran quickly to the end of the park. arrived at the little house, she remembered the words of her father, "beware of curiosity!" she hesitated, and was upon the point of returning the key without having looked at the house, when she thought she heard a light groan. she put her ear against the door and heard a very little voice singing softly:- "a lonely prisoner i pine, no hope of freedom now is mine; i soon must draw my latest breath, and in this dungeon meet my death." "no doubt," said rosalie to herself, "this is some unfortunate creature whom my father holds captive." tapping softly upon the door, she said: "who are you, and what can i do for you?" "open the door, rosalie! i pray you open the door!" "but why are you a prisoner? have you not committed some crime?" "alas! no, rosalie. an enchanter keeps me here a prisoner. save me and i will prove my gratitude by telling you truly who i am." rosalie no longer hesitated: her curiosity was stronger than her obedience. she put the key in the lock, but her hand trembled so that she could not open it. she was about to give up the effort, when the little voice continued:-"rosalie, that which i have to tell you will teach you many things which will interest you. your father is not what he appears to be." at these words rosalie made a last effort, the key turned and the door opened. the fairy detestable rosalie looked in eagerly. the little house was dark; she could see nothing but she heard the little voice:-"thanks, rosalie, it is to you that i owe my deliverance." the voice seemed to come from the earth. she looked, and saw in a corner two brilliant little eyes gazing at her maliciously. "my cunning trick has succeeded, rosalie, and betrayed you into yielding to your curiosity. if i had not spoken and sung you would have returned with the key and i should have been lost. now that you have set me at liberty, you and your father are both in my power." rosalie did not yet fully comprehend the extent of the misfortune she had brought about by her disobedience. she knew, however, that it was a dangerous foe which her father had held captive and she wished to retire and close the door. "stop, rosalie! it is no longer in your power to keep me in this odious prison from which i never could have escaped if you had waited until your fifteenth birth-day." at this moment the little house disappeared entirely, and rosalie saw with the greatest consternation that the key alone remained in her hand. she now saw at her side a small gray mouse who gazed at her with its sparkling little eyes and began to laugh in a thin, discordant voice. "ha! ha! ha! what a frightened air you have, rosalie! in truth you amuse me very much. but it is lucky for me that you had so much curiosity. it has been nearly fifteen years since i was shut up in this frightful prison, having no power to injure your father, whom i hate, or to bring any evil upon you, whom i detest because you are his daughter." "who are you, then, wicked mouse?" "i am the mortal enemy of your family, my pet. i call myself the fairy detestable and the name suits me, i assure you. all the world hates me and i hate all the world. i shall follow you now for the rest of your life, wherever you go." "go away at once, miserable creature! a mouse is not to be feared and i will find a way to get rid of you." "we shall see, my pet! i shall remain at your side wherever you go!" [illustration: _the broom was on fire at once, blazed up and burned her hands_] rosalie now ran rapidly towards the house; every time she turned she saw the mouse galloping after her, and laughing with a mocking air. arrived at the house, she tried to crush the mouse in the door, but it remained open in spite of every effort she could make and the mouse remained quietly upon the door-sill. "wait awhile, wicked monster!" cried rosalie, beside herself with rage and terror. she seized a broom and tried to dash it violently against the mouse but the broom was on fire at once, blazed up and burned her hands; she threw it quickly to the floor and pushed it into the chimney with her foot, lest it should set fire to the house. then seizing a kettle which was boiling on the fire, she emptied it upon the mouse but the boiling water was changed into good fresh milk and the mouse commenced drinking it, saying:-"how exceedingly amiable you are, rosalie! not content with having released me from captivity, you give me an excellent breakfast." poor rosalie now began to weep bitterly. she was utterly at a loss what to do, when she heard her father entering. "my father!" cried she, "my father! oh! cruel mouse, i beseech you in pity to go away that my father may not see you!" "no, i shall not go but i will hide myself behind your heels until your father knows of your disobedience." the mouse had scarcely concealed herself behind rosalie, when prudent entered. he looked at rosalie, whose paleness and embarrassed air betrayed her fear. "rosalie," said prudent, with a trembling voice, "i forgot the key of the little garden-house; have you found it?" "here it is, father," said rosalie, presenting it to him, and coloring deeply. "how did this cream come to be upset on the floor?" "father, it was the cat." "the cat? impossible. the cat brought a vessel of milk to the middle of the room and upset it there?" "no! no! father, it was i that did it; in carrying it, i accidentally overturned it." rosalie spoke in a low voice, and dared not look at her father. "take the broom, rosalie, and sweep up this cream." "there is no broom, father." "no broom! there was one when i left the house." "i burned it, father, accidentally, by---by----" she paused--her father looked fixedly at her, threw a searching unquiet glance about the room, sighed and turned his steps slowly towards the little house in the garden. rosalie fell sobbing bitterly upon a chair; the mouse did not stir. a few moments afterwards, prudent entered hastily, his countenance marked with horror. "rosalie! unhappy child! what have you done? you have yielded to your fatal curiosity and released our most cruel enemy from prison." "pardon me, father! oh pardon me!" she cried, throwing herself at his feet; "i was ignorant of the evil i did." "misfortune is always the result of disobedience, rosalie; disobedient children think they are only committing a small fault, when they are doing the greatest injury to themselves and others." "but, father, who and what then is this mouse, who causes you this terrible fear? how, if it had so much power, could you keep it so long a prisoner and why can you not put it in prison again?" "this mouse, my unhappy child, is a wicked fairy, but very powerful. for myself, i am the genius prudent and since you have given liberty to my enemy, i can now reveal to you that which i should have concealed until you were fifteen years old. "i am, then, as i said to you, the genius prudent; your dear mother was a simple mortal but her virtues and her graces touched the queen of the fairies and also the king of the genii and they permitted me to wed her. i gave a splendid festival on my marriage-day. unfortunately i forgot to invoke the fairy detestable, who was already irritated against me for having married a princess, after having refused one of her daughters. she was so exasperated against me that she swore an implacable hatred against me, my wife and my children. i was not terrified at her threats, as i myself had a power almost equal to her own and i was much beloved by the queen of the fairies. many times by the power of my enchantments, i triumphed over the malicious hatred of the fairy detestable. "a few hours after your birth your mother was thrown into the most violent convulsions which i could not calm. i left her for a few moments to invoke the aid of the queen of the fairies. when i returned your mother was dead. "the wicked fairy detestable had profited by my absence and caused her death. she was about to endow you with all the passions and vices of this evil world, when my unexpected return happily paralyzed her efforts. i interrupted her at the moment when she had endowed you with a curiosity sufficient to make you wretched and to subject you entirely to her power at fifteen years of age. by my power, united to that of the queen of the fairies, i counter-balanced this fatal influence and we decided that you should not fall under her power at fifteen years of age, unless you yielded three times under the gravest circumstances to your idle curiosity. "at the same time the queen of the fairies, to punish the fairy detestable, changed her into a mouse, shut her up in the little garden house, and declared that she should never leave it unless you voluntarily opened the door. also, that she should never resume her original form of fairy unless you yielded three times to your criminal curiosity before you were fifteen years of age. lastly, that if you resisted once the fatal passion you should be for ever released, as well as myself, from the power of the fairy detestable. "with great difficulty i obtained all these favors and only by promising that i would share your fate and become, like yourself, the slave of the fairy detestable, if you weakly allowed yourself to yield three times to your curiosity. i promised solemnly to educate you in such a manner as to destroy this terrible passion, calculated to cause so many sorrows. "for all these reasons i have confined myself and you, rosalie, in this enclosure. i have permitted you to see no one, not even a domestic. i procured by my power all that your heart desired and i have been feeling quite satisfied in having succeeded so well with you. in three weeks you would have been fifteen, and for ever delivered from the odious yoke of the fairy detestable. "i was alarmed when you asked for the key of the little house, of which you had never before seemed to think. i could not conceal the painful impression which this demand made upon me. my agitation excited your curiosity. in spite of your gaiety and assumed thoughtlessness, i penetrated your thoughts, and you may judge of my grief when the queen of the fairies ordered me to make the temptation possible and the resistance meritorious by leaving the key at least once in your reach. i was thus compelled to leave it, that fatal key, and thus facilitate by my absence my own and your destruction. "imagine, rosalie, what i suffered during the hour of my absence, leaving you alone with this temptation before your eyes and when i saw your embarrassment and blushes on my return, indicating to me too well that you had allowed your curiosity to master you. "i was commanded to conceal everything from you; to tell you nothing of your birth or of the dangers which surround you, until your fifteenth birthday. if i had disobeyed, you would at once have fallen into the power of the fairy detestable. "and yet, rosalie, all is not lost. you can yet repair your fault by resisting for fifteen days this terrible passion. at fifteen years of age you were to have been united to a charming prince, who is related to us, the prince gracious. this union is yet possible. "ah, rosalie! my still dear child, take pity on yourself, if you have no mercy for me and resist your curiosity." rosalie was on her knees before her father, her face concealed in her hands and weeping bitterly. at these words she took courage, embraced him tenderly and said to him:-"oh, father! i promise you solemnly that i will atone for this fault. do not leave me, dear father! with you by me, i shall be inspired with a courage which would otherwise fail me. i dare not be deprived of your wise paternal counsel." "alas! rosalie! it is no longer in my power to remain with you for i am now under the dominion of my enemy. most certainly she will not allow me to stay by your side and warn you against the snares and temptations which she will spread at your feet. i am astonished at not having seen my cruel foe before this time. the view of my affliction and despair would have for her hard heart an irresistible charm." "i have been near you all the time, at your daughter's feet," said the little gray mouse, in a sharp voice, stepping out and showing herself to the unfortunate genius. "i have been highly entertained at the recital of all that i have already made you suffer, and the pleasure i felt in hearing you give this account to your daughter induced me to conceal myself till this moment. now say adieu to your dear but curious rosalie; she must accompany me, and i forbid you to follow her." saying these words, she seized the hem of rosalie's dress with her sharp little teeth and tried to draw her away. rosalie uttered a piercing cry and clung convulsively to her father but an irresistible force bore her off. the unfortunate genius seized a stick and raised it to strike the mouse but before he had time to inflict the blow the mouse placed one of her little paws on the genius's foot and he remained as immovable as a statue. rosalie embraced her father's knees and implored the mouse to take pity upon her but the little wretch gave one of her sharp, diabolical laughs and said:-"come, come, my pretty! pity it is not here that you will find the temptations to yield twice to your irresistible fault! we will travel all over the world together and i will show you many countries in fifteen days." the mouse pulled rosalie without ceasing. her arms were still clasped around her father, striving to resist the overpowering force of her enemy. the mouse uttered a discordant little cry and suddenly the house was in flames. rosalie had sufficient presence of mind to reflect that if she allowed herself to be burned there would be no means left of saving her father, who must then remain eternally under the power of detestable. whereas, if she preserved her own life there remained always some chance of rescuing him. "adieu, adieu, dear father!" she cried; "we will meet again in fifteen days. after having given you over to your enemy, your rosalie will yet save you." she then tore herself away, in order not to be devoured by the flames. she ran on rapidly for some time without knowing where she was going. she walked several hours but at last, exhausted with fatigue and half dead with hunger, she resolved to approach a kind-looking woman who was seated at her door. "madam," said she, "will you give me a place to sleep? i am dying with hunger and fatigue. will you not be so kind as to allow me to enter and pass the night with you?" "how is it that so beautiful a girl as yourself is found upon the highways and what ugly animal is that with the expression of a demon which accompanies you." rosalie turned round and saw the little gray mouse smiling upon her mockingly. she tried to chase it away but the mouse obstinately refused to move. the good woman, seeing this contest, shook her head and said:-"go on your ways, my pretty one. the evil one and his followers cannot lodge with me." weeping bitterly, rosalie continued her journey, and wherever she presented herself they refused to receive her and the mouse, who never quitted her side. she entered a forest where happily she found a brook at which she quenched her thirst. she found also fruits and nuts in abundance. she drank, ate and seated herself near a tree, thinking with agony of her father and wondering what would become of him during the fifteen days. while rosalie was thus musing she kept her eyes closed so as not to see the wicked little gray mouse. her fatigue, and the silence and darkness around her, brought on sleep and she slept a long time profoundly. the prince gracious while rosalie was thus quietly sleeping, the prince gracious was engaged in a hunt through the forest by torch-light. the fawn, pursued fiercely by the dogs, came trembling with terror to crouch down near the brook by which rosalie was sleeping. the dogs and gamekeepers sprang forward after the fawn. suddenly the dogs ceased barking and grouped themselves silently around rosalie. the prince dismounted from his horse to set the dogs again upon the trail of the deer but what was his surprise to see a lovely young girl asleep in this lonely forest! he looked carefully around but saw no one else. she was indeed alone--abandoned. on examining her more closely, he saw traces of tears upon her cheeks and indeed they were still escaping slowly from her closed eyelids. rosalie was simply clothed but the richness of her silk dress denoted wealth. her fine white hands, her rosy nails, her beautiful chestnut locks, carefully and tastefully arranged with a gold comb, her elegant boots and necklace of pure pearls indicated elevated rank. rosalie did not awake, notwithstanding the stamping of the horses, the baying of the dogs and the noisy tumult made by a crowd of sportsmen. the prince was stupefied and stood gazing steadily at rosalie. no one present recognized her. anxious and disquieted by this profound sleep, prince gracious took her hand softly. rosalie still slept. the prince pressed her hand lightly in his but even this did not awaken her. turning to his officers, he said: "i cannot thus abandon this unfortunate child, who has perhaps been led astray by some design, the victim of some cruel wickedness." "but how can she be removed while she is asleep, prince," said hubert, his principal gamekeeper, "can we not make a litter of branches and thus remove her to some hostel in the neighborhood while your highness continues the chase?" "your idea is good, hubert. make the litter and we will immediately place her upon it, only you will not carry her to a hostel, but to my palace. this young maiden is assuredly of high birth, and she is beautiful as an angel. i will watch over her myself, so that she may receive the care and attention to which she is entitled." hubert, with the assistance of his men, soon arranged the litter upon which prince gracious spread his mantle; then approaching rosalie, who was still sleeping softly, he raised her gently in his arms and laid her upon the cloak. at this moment rosalie seemed to be dreaming. she smiled and murmured, in low tones:-"my father! my father! saved for ever! the queen of the fairies! the prince gracious! i see him; he is charming!" the prince, surprised to hear his name pronounced, did not doubt that rosalie was a princess under some cruel enchantment. he commanded his gamekeepers to walk very softly so as not to wake her and he walked by the side of the litter. on arriving at the palace, prince gracious ordered that the queen's apartment should be prepared for rosalie. he suffered no one to touch her but carried her himself to her chamber and laid her gently upon the bed, ordering the women who were to wait upon and watch over her to apprise him as soon as she awaked. then, casting a farewell look upon the sad, sweet face of the sleeper, he strode from the room. rosalie slept tranquilly until morning. the sun was shining brightly when she awoke. she looked about her with great surprise. the wicked mouse was not near her to terrify her--it had happily disappeared. "am i delivered from this wicked fairy detestable?" said she, joyfully. "am i in the hands of a fairy more powerful than herself?" rosalie now stepped to the window and saw many armed men and many officers, dressed in brilliant uniforms. more and more surprised, she was about to call one of the men, whom she believed to be either genii or enchanters, when she heard footsteps approaching. she turned and saw the prince gracious, clothed in an elegant and rich hunting-dress, standing before her and regarding her with admiration. rosalie immediately recognized the prince of her dream and cried out involuntarily:-"the prince gracious!" "you know me then?" said the prince, in amazement. "how, if you have ever known me, could i have forgotten your name and features?" "i have only seen you in my dreams, prince," said rosalie, blushing. "as to my name, you could not possibly know it, since i myself did not know my father's name until yesterday." "and what is the name, may i ask, which has been concealed from you so long?" rosalie then told him all that she had heard from her father. she frankly confessed her culpable curiosity and its terrible consequences. "judge of my grief, prince, when i was compelled to leave my father in order to escape from the flames which the wicked fairy had lighted; when, rejected everywhere because of the wicked mouse, i found myself exposed to death from hunger and thirst! soon, however, a heavy sleep took possession of me, during which i had many strange dreams. i do not know how i came here or whether it is in your palace that i find myself." gracious then related to rosalie how he had found her asleep in the forest and the words which he had heard her utter in her dream. he then added:-"there is one thing your father did not tell you, rosalie; that is, that the queen of the fairies, who is our relation, had decided that we should be married when you were fifteen years of age. it was no doubt the queen of the fairies who inspired me with the desire to go hunting by torchlight, in order that i might find you in the forest where you had wandered. since you will be fifteen in a few days, rosalie, deign to consider my palace as your own and command here in advance, as my queen. your father will soon be restored to you and we will celebrate our happy marriage." rosalie thanked her young and handsome cousin heartily and then returned to her chamber, where she found her maids awaiting her with a wonderful selection of rich and splendid robes and head-dresses. rosalie, who had never given much attention to her toilet, took the first dress that was presented to her. it was of rose-colored gauze, ornamented with fine lace with a head-dress of lace and moss rosebuds. her beautiful chestnut hair was arranged in bands, forming a crown. when her toilet was completed, the prince came to conduct her to breakfast. rosalie ate like a person who had not dined the day before. after the repast, the prince led her to the garden and conducted her to the green-houses, which were very magnificent. at the end of one of the hot-houses there was a little rotunda, ornamented with choice flowers; in the centre of this rotunda there was a large case which seemed to contain a tree but a thick heavy cloth was thrown over it and tightly sewed together. through the cloth however could be seen a number of points of extraordinary brilliancy. the tree in the rotunda rosalie admired all the flowers very much but she waited with some impatience for the prince to remove the cloth which enveloped this mysterious tree. he left the green-house, however, without having spoken of it. "what then, my prince, is this tree which is so carefully concealed?" "it is the wedding present which i destined for you but you cannot see it until your fifteenth birthday," said the prince, gayly. "but what is it that shines so brilliantly under the cloth?" said she, importunately. "you will know all in a few days, rosalie, and i flatter myself that you will not find my present a common affair." "and can i not see it before my birthday?" "no, rosalie; the queen of the fairies has forbidden me, under heavy penalties, to show it to you until after you become my wife. i do hope that you love me enough to control your curiosity till that time." these last words made rosalie tremble, for they recalled to her the little gray mouse and the misfortunes which menaced her as well as her father, if she allowed herself to fall under the temptation, which, without doubt, her enemy the fairy detestable had placed before her. she spoke no more of the mysterious case, and continued her walk with the prince. the day passed most agreeably. the prince presented her to the ladies of his court and commanded them to honor and respect in her the princess rosalie, whom the queen of the fairies had selected as his bride. rosalie was very amiable to every one and they all rejoiced in the idea of having so charming and lovely a queen. the following days were passed in every species of festivity. the prince and rosalie both saw with joyous hearts the approach of the birth-day which was to be also that of their marriage:--the prince, because he tenderly loved his cousin, and rosalie because she loved the prince, because she desired strongly to see her father again, and also because she hoped to see what the case in the rotunda contained. she thought of this incessantly. she dreamed of it during the night and whenever she was alone she could with difficulty restrain herself from rushing to the green-house to try to discover the secret. finally, the last day of anticipation and anxiety arrived. in the morning rosalie would be fifteen. the prince was much occupied with the preparations for his marriage; it was to be a very grand affair. all the good fairies of his acquaintance were to be present as well as the queen of the fairies. rosalie found herself alone in the morning and she resolved to take a walk. while musing upon the happiness of the morrow, she involuntarily approached the green-house. she entered, smiling pensively, and found herself face to face with the cloth which covered the treasure. "to-morrow," said she, "i shall at last know what this thick cloth conceals from me. if i wished, indeed i might see it to-day, for i plainly perceive some little openings in which i might insert my fingers and by enlarging just a little----. in fact, who would ever know it? i would sew the cloth after having taken a glimpse. since to-morrow is so near, when i am to see all, i may as well take a glance to-day." rosalie looked about her and saw no one; and, in her extreme desire to gratify her curiosity, she forgot the goodness of the prince and the dangers which menaced them all if she yielded to this temptation. she passed her fingers through the little apertures and strained them lightly. the cloth was rent from the top to the bottom with a noise like thunder and rosalie saw before her eyes a tree of marvellous beauty, with a coral trunk and leaves of emeralds. the seeming fruits which covered the tree were of precious stones of all colors--diamonds, sapphires, pearls, rubies, opals, topazes, all as large as the fruits they were intended to represent and of such brilliancy that rosalie was completely dazzled by them. but scarcely had she seen this rare and unparalleled tree, when a noise louder than the first drew her from her ecstasy. she felt herself lifted up and transported to a vast plain, from which she saw the palace of the king falling in ruins and heard the most frightful cries of terror and suffering issue from its walls. soon rosalie saw the prince himself creep from the ruins bleeding and his clothing almost torn from him. he advanced towards her and said sadly:-"rosalie! ungrateful rosalie! see what you have done to me, not only to me, but to my whole court. after what you have done, i do not doubt that you will yield a third time to your curiosity; that you will complete my misfortunes, those of your unhappy father and your own. adieu, rosalie, adieu! may sincere repentance atone for your ingratitude towards an unhappy prince who loved you and only sought to make you happy!" saying these words, he withdrew slowly. rosalie threw herself upon her knees, bathed in tears and called him tenderly but he disappeared without ever turning to contemplate her despair. rosalie was about to faint away, when she heard the little discordant laugh of the gray mouse and saw it before her. "your thanks are due to me, my dear rosalie, for having assisted you so well. it was i who sent you those bewitching dreams of the mysterious tree during the night. it was i who nibbled the cloth, to help you in your wish to look in. without this last artifice of mine, i believe i should have lost you, as well as your father and your prince gracious. one more slip, my pet, and you will be my slave for ever!" the cruel mouse, in her malicious joy, began to dance around rosalie; her words, wicked as they were, did not excite the anger of the guilty girl. "this is all my fault," said she; "had it not been for my fatal curiosity and my base ingratitude, the gray mouse would not have succeeded in making me yield so readily to temptation. i must atone for all this by my sorrow, by my patience and by the firmness with which i will resist the third proof to which i am subjected, no matter how difficult it may be. besides, i have but a few hours to wait and my dear prince has told me that his happiness and that of my dearly loved father and my own, depends upon myself." before her lay the smouldering ruins of the palace of the prince gracious. so complete had been its destruction that a cloud of dust and smoke hung over it, and hardly one stone remained upon another. the cries of those in pain were borne to her ears and added to her bitterness of feeling. rosalie continued to lie prone on the ground. the gray mouse employed every possible means to induce her to move from the spot. rosalie, the poor, unhappy and guilty rosalie, persisted in remaining in view of the ruin she had caused. the casket thus passed the entire day. rosalie suffered cruelly with thirst. "ought i not suffer even more than i do?" she said to herself, "in order to punish me for all i have made my father and my cousin endure? i will await in this terrible spot the dawning of my fifteenth birthday." the night was falling when an old woman who was passing by, approached and said:-"my beautiful child, will you oblige me by taking care of this casket, which is very heavy to carry, while i go a short distance to see one of my relations?" "willingly, madam," replied rosalie, who was very obliging. the old woman placed the casket in her hands, saying:-"many thanks, my beautiful child! i shall not be absent long. but i entreat you not to look in this casket, for it contains things--things such as you have never seen--and as you will never have an opportunity to see again. do not handle it rudely, for it is of very fragile ware and would be very easily broken and then you would see what it contains and no one ought to see what is there concealed." the old woman went off after saying this. rosalie placed the casket near her and reflected on all the events which had just passed. it was now night and the old woman did not return. rosalie now threw her eyes on the casket and saw with surprise that it illuminated the ground all around her. "what can there be in this casket which is so brilliant?" said she. she turned it round and round and regarded it from every side but nothing could explain this extraordinary light and she placed it carefully upon the ground, saying:-"of what importance is it to me what this casket contains? it is not mine but belongs to the old woman who confided it to me. i will not think of it again for fear i may be tempted to open it." in fact, she no longer looked at it and endeavored not to think of it; she now closed her eyes, resolved to wait patiently till the dawn. "in the morning i shall be fifteen years of age. i shall see my father and gracious and will have nothing more to fear from the wicked fairy." "rosalie! rosalie!" said suddenly the small voice of the little mouse, "i am near you once more. i am no longer your enemy and to prove that i am not, if you wish it, i will show you what this casket contains." rosalie did not reply. "rosalie, do you not hear what i propose? i am your friend, believe me." no reply. then the little gray mouse, having no time to lose, sprang upon the casket and began to gnaw the lid. "monster!" cried rosalie, seizing the casket and pressing it against her bosom, "if you touch this casket again i will wring your neck." the mouse cast a diabolical glance upon rosalie but it dared not brave her anger. while it was meditating some other means of exciting the curiosity of rosalie, a clock struck twelve. at the same moment the mouse uttered a cry of rage and disappointment and said to rosalie:-"rosalie, the hour of your birth has just sounded. you are now fifteen; you have nothing more to fear from me. you are now beyond my power and my temptations as are also your odious father and hated prince. as to myself, i am compelled to keep this ignoble form of a mouse until i can tempt some young girl beautiful and well born as yourself to fall into my snares. adieu, rosalie! you can now open the casket." saying these words, the mouse disappeared. rosalie, wisely distrusting these words of her enemy, would not follow her last counsel, and resolved to guard the casket carefully till the dawn. scarcely had she taken this resolution, when an owl, which was flying above her head, let a stone fall upon the casket, which broke into a thousand pieces. rosalie uttered a cry of terror and at the same moment she saw before her the queen of the fairies, who said:-"come rosalie, you have finally triumphed over the cruel enemy of your family. i will now restore you to your father but first you must eat and drink, as you are much exhausted." the fairy now presented her with a rare fruit, of which a single mouthful satisfied both hunger and thirst. then a splendid chariot, drawn by two dragons, drew up before the fairy. she entered and commanded rosalie to do the same. rosalie, as soon as she recovered from her surprise, thanked the queen of the fairies with all her heart for her protection and asked if she was not to see her father and the prince gracious. "your father awaits you in the palace of the prince." "but, madam, i thought that the palace of the prince was destroyed and he himself wounded sadly?" "that, rosalie, was only an illusion to fill you with horror and remorse at the result of your curiosity and to prevent you from falling before the third temptation. you will soon see the palace of the prince just as it was before you tore the cloth which covered the precious tree he destined for you." as the fairy said this the chariot drew up before the palace steps. rosalie's father and the prince were awaiting her with all the court. rosalie first threw herself in her father's arms, then in those of the prince, who seemed to have no remembrance of the fault she had committed the day before. all was ready for the marriage ceremony which was to be celebrated immediately. all the good fairies assisted at this festival which lasted several days. rosalie's father lived with his child and she was completely cured of her curiosity. she was tenderly loved by prince gracious whom she loved fondly all her life. they had beautiful children, for whom they chose powerful fairies as godmothers in order that they might be protected against the wicked fairies and genii. ourson ourson the lark and the toad there was once a pretty woman named agnella, who cultivated a farm. she lived alone with a young servant named passerose. the farm was small but beautiful and in fine order. she had a most charming cow, which gave a quantity of milk, a cat to destroy the mice and an ass to carry her fruit, butter, vegetables, eggs, and cheese to markets every wednesday. no one knew up to that time how agnella and passerose had arrived at this unknown farm which received in the county the name of the woodland farm. one evening passerose was busy milking the pretty white cow while agnella prepared the supper. at the moment she was placing some good soup and a plate of cream upon the table, she saw an enormous toad devouring with avidity some cherries which had been put on the ground in a vine-leaf. "ugly toad!" exclaimed agnella, "i will teach you how to eat my cherries!" at the same moment she lifted the leaves which contained the cherries, and gave the toad a kick which dashed it off about ten steps. she was about to throw it from the door, when the toad uttered a sharp whistle and raised itself upon its hind legs; its great eyes were flashing, and its enormous mouth opening and shutting with rage, its whole ugly body was trembling and from its quivering throat was heard a terrible bellowing. agnella paused in amazement; she recoiled, indeed, to avoid the venom of the monstrous and enraged toad. she looked around for a broom to eject this hideous monster, when the toad advanced towards her, made with its fore paws a gesture of authority, and said in a voice trembling with rage:-"you have dared to touch me with your foot! you have prevented me from satisfying my appetite with the cherries which you had placed within my reach! you have tried to expel me from your house! my vengeance shall reach you and will fall upon that which you hold most dear! you shall know and feel that the fairy furious is not to be insulted with impunity. you shall have a son, covered with coarse hair like a bear's cub and----" "stop, sister," interrupted a small voice, sweet and flute-like, which seemed to come from above. agnella raised her head and saw a lark perched on the top of the front door. "you revenge yourself too cruelly for an injury inflicted, not upon you in your character of a fairy but upon the ugly and disgusting form in which it has pleased you to disguise yourself. by my power, which is superior to yours, i forbid you to exaggerate the evil which you have already done in your blind rage and which, alas! it is not in my power to undo. and you, poor mother," she continued, turning to agnella, "do not utterly despair; there is a possible remedy for the deformity of your child. i will accord to him the power of changing his skin with any one whom he may, by his goodness and service rendered, inspire with sufficient gratitude and affection to consent to the change. he will then resume the handsome form which would have been his if my sister, the fairy furious, had not given you this terrible proof of her malice and cruelty." "alas! madam lark," replied agnella, "all this goodness cannot prevent my poor, unhappy son from being disgusting and like a wild beast. his very playmates will shun him as a monster." "that is true," replied the fairy drolette; "and the more so as it is forbidden to yourself or to passerose to change skins with him. but i will neither abandon you nor your son. you will name him ourson until the day when he can assume a name worthy of his birth and beauty. he must then be called the prince marvellous." saying these words, the fairy flew lightly through the air and disappeared from sight. the fairy furious withdrew, filled with rage, walking slowly and turning every instant to gaze at agnella with a menacing air. as she moved slowly along, she spat her venom from side to side and the grass, the plants and the bushes perished along her course. this was a venom so subtle that nothing could ever flourish on the spot again and the path is called to this day the road of the fairy furious. when agnella found herself alone, she began to sob. passerose, who had finished her work and saw the hour of supper approaching, entered the dining-room and with great surprise saw her mistress in tears. "dear queen, what is the matter? who can have caused you this great grief? i have seen no one enter the house." "no one has entered, my dear, except those who enter everywhere. a wicked fairy under the form of a toad and a good fairy under the appearance of a lark." "and what have these fairies said to you, my queen, to make you weep so piteously? has not the good fairy interfered to prevent the misfortunes which the wicked fairy wished to bring about?" "no, my dear friend. she has somewhat lightened them but it was not in her power to set them aside altogether." [illustration: _agnella and passerose were dashed from cloud to cloud_] agnella then recounted all that had taken place and that she would have a son with a skin like a bear. at this narrative passerose wept as bitterly as her mistress. "what a misfortune!" she exclaimed. "what degradation and shame, that the heir of a great kingdom should be a bear! what will king ferocious, your husband, say if he should ever discover us?" "and how will he ever find us, passerose? you know that after our flight we were swept away by a whirlwind and dashed from cloud to cloud for twelve hours with such astonishing rapidity that we found ourselves more than three thousand leagues from the kingdom of ferocious. besides, you know his wickedness. you know how bitterly he hates me since i prevented him from killing his brother indolent and his sister nonchalante. you know that i fled because he wished to kill me also. i have no reason to fear that he will pursue me for i am sure that he will wish never to see me again." passerose, after having wept and sobbed some time with the queen aimee, for that was her true name, now entreated her mistress to be seated at the table. "if we wept all night, dear queen, we could not prevent your son from being shaggy but we will endeavor to educate him so well, to make him so good, that he will not be a long time in finding some good and grateful soul who will exchange a white skin for this hairy one which the evil fairy furious has put upon him. a beautiful present indeed! she would have done well to reserve it for herself." the poor queen, whom we will continue to call agnella for fear of giving information to king ferocious, rose slowly, dried her eyes and succeeded in somewhat overcoming her sadness. little by little the gay and cheering conversation of passerose dissipated her forebodings. before the close of the evening, passerose had convinced her that ourson would not remain a long time a bear; that he would soon resume a form worthy of a noble prince. that she would herself indeed be most happy to exchange with him, if the fairy would permit it. agnella and passerose now retired to their chambers and slept peacefully. birth and infancy of ourson three months after the appearance of the toad and the cruel sentence of the fairy furious, agnella gave birth to a boy whom she named ourson, as the fairy drolette had commanded. neither agnella nor passerose could decide if he was ugly or handsome for he was so hairy, so covered with long brown bristles, you could see nothing but his eyes and his mouth, and not even these unless he opened them. if agnella had not been his mother and if passerose had not loved her like a sister, poor ourson would have died from neglect for he was so frightful no one would have dared to touch--he would have been taken for a little cub and killed with pitchforks. but agnella was his mother and her first movement was to embrace him lovingly and, bathed in tears, to exclaim:-"poor little ourson! who can ever love you well enough to deliver you from this horrible curse? alas! why will not the fairy permit me to make this exchange, which is allowed to another who may love you? no one can ever love you as i do." ourson did not reply to these endearments; he slept peacefully. passerose wept also in sympathy with agnella but she was not in the habit of afflicting herself for a long time on any occasion so she dried her eyes and said to agnella:-"dear queen, i am very certain that your dear son will be clothed but a short time with this villainous bear-skin and from this day i shall call him prince marvellous." "i beseech you not to do so," said the queen, anxiously; "you know that the fairies love to be obeyed." passerose took the child, clothed it in the linen that had been prepared for it and leaned over to embrace it but she pricked her lips against the rough bristles of ourson and drew back precipitately. "it will not be i who will embrace you frequently, my boy," said she, in a low voice; "you prick like a real hedgehog." it was passerose, however, to whom agnella gave the charge of the little ourson. he had nothing of the bear but his skin: he was the sweetest-tempered, the most knowing, the most affectionate child that ever was seen. passerose soon loved him with all her heart. as ourson grew up he was sometimes permitted to leave the farm. he was in no danger for no one knew him in the country. the children always ran away at his approach and the women repulsed him. men avoided him--they looked upon him as something accursed. sometimes when agnella went to market she put him on her donkey and took him with her and on those days she found more difficulty in selling her vegetables and cheese. the mothers fled from her, fearing that ourson would come too near them. agnella wept often and vainly implored the fairy drolette. whenever a lark flew near her, hope was born in her breast. but the larks, alas, were real larks, fit only to make pies and not fairies in disguise. violette ourson at eight years of age was tall and strong, with magnificent eyes and a sweet voice; his bristles were no longer stiff but his hair was soft as silk, and those who loved him could embrace him without being scratched, as passerose had been the day of his birth. ourson loved his mother tenderly and passerose almost as well but he was often alone and very sad. he saw too well the horror he inspired and he saw also that he was unlike other children. one day he was walking along a beautiful road which bordered on the farm. he had walked a long time and overcome with heat and fatigue he looked about him for some fresh and quiet spot for repose when he thought he saw a little object, fair and rosy, a few steps from him. drawing near with precaution he saw a little girl asleep. she seemed to be about three years old and she was beautiful as the loves and graces. her blonde hair partly covered her fair and dimpled shoulders while her soft cheeks were round and fresh and dimpled and a half smile played upon her rosy and parted lips, through which small teeth, white and even as pearls, could be seen. her charming head was reposing upon a lovely rounded arm and the little hand was beautifully formed and white as snow. the attitude of this little girl was so graceful, so enchanting, that ourson stood before her immovable with admiration. he watched with as much surprise as pleasure, this child sleeping as soundly and peacefully in the wood as if she had been at home in her own little bed. ourson looked at her a long time and examined her toilet which was more rich and elegant than anything he had ever seen. her dress was of white silk embroidered in gold; her boots were of blue satin also embroidered in gold; her stockings were silk and fine as a spider's web; magnificent bracelets were sparkling upon her arms and the clasp seemed to contain her portrait; a string of beautiful pearls encircled her throat. a lark now commenced its song just above the lovely little girl and awakened her from her profound slumber. she looked about her, called her nurse but finding herself alone in the woods, began to weep bitterly. ourson was much affected at her tears and his embarrassment was very great. "if i show myself," said he to himself, "this poor little one will take me for some wild beast of the forest. if she sees me she will be terrified; she will take to flight and wander still further from her home. if i leave her here, she will die of terror and hunger. what shall i do!" whilst ourson reflected thus, the little girl turned around, saw him, uttered a cry of alarm, tried to flee and fell back in a panic. "do not fly from me, dear little one," said ourson, in his sad, soft voice; "i would not injure you for the whole world; on the contrary, i will assist you to find your father and mother." the child gazed at him with staring eyes and seemed much alarmed. "speak to me, little one," said ourson; "i am not a bear, as you might suppose, but a poor and most unfortunate little boy, who inspires every one with terror and whom everybody avoids." the sweet child's eyes became calmer and softer, her fear seemed melting away and she looked undecided. ourson took one step towards her but she became greatly frightened, uttered a sharp cry and tried again to rise and run off. ourson paused and began to weep bitterly. "unfortunate wretch that i am," he said; "i cannot even assist this poor lost child. my appearance fills her with terror! she would rather be lost than have help from me!" so saying, poor ourson covered his face with his hands and sobbing piteously threw himself on the ground. a few moments afterwards he felt a little hand seeking to take possession of his own. he raised his head and saw the child standing before him, her eyes filled with tears. she caressed and patted the hairy cheeks of poor ourson. "don't cry, little cub, don't cry," said she. "violette is no longer afraid, she will not run away again. violette will love poor little cub. won't little cub give his hand to violette? and if you cry again, violette will embrace you, poor little cub." tears of happiness and tenderness succeeded those of despair in ourson. violette, seeing that he was again weeping, approached her soft rosy lips to ourson's hairy cheek and gave him several kisses. "you see, little cub, that violette is no longer afraid. violette kisses you! the little cub won't eat violette--she will follow you!" if ourson had followed the dictates of his heart, he would have pressed her to his bosom and covered with kisses the good and charming child who overcame her natural terror in order to assuage the grief and mortification of a poor being whom she saw unfortunate and miserable. but he feared to arouse her terrors. "she would think that i was about to devour her," he said. he contented himself, therefore, with clasping her hands softly, and kissing them delicately. violette permitted this smilingly. "now little cub is satisfied. little cub will love violette, poor violette, who is lost!" ourson understood well that her name was violette; but he could not comprehend how this little girl, so richly clad, was left alone in the forest. "where do you live, my dear little violette?" "yonder--yonder--with papa and mamma." "what is the name of your papa?" "he is the king and dear mamma is the queen." ourson was more and more surprised and asked: "why are you alone in this forest?" "violette doesn't know. poor violette rode on a big dog--he ran, oh! so fast--so fast, a long time! violette was so tired, she fell down and slept!" "and the dog, where is he?" violet turned in every direction and called softly: "ami! ami!" no dog appeared. "alas! ami has gone! poor violette is alone--alone!" ourson took violette's hand and she did not withdraw it but smiled sweetly. "shall i go and seek mamma, violette?" "no, no! violette cannot stay all alone in this wood. violette will go." "come, then, with me, dear little girl. i will take you to my mother." ourson and violette now turned their steps towards the farm. ourson gathered strawberries and cherries for violette, who would not touch them till ourson had eaten half. when she found that he still held his half in his hand, she took them, and placed them herself in his mouth, saying: "eat--eat, little cub. violette will not eat unless you eat. violette cannot have little cub unhappy. violette will not see you weep." she looked at him to see if he was content and happy. ourson was really happy. he saw that his good and pretty little companion not only tolerated him but was interested in him and sought to make herself agreeable. his eyes were sparkling with joy, his voice, always soft and sad, was now tender. after half an hour's walk, he said to her: "violette, you are no longer afraid of poor ourson, are you?" "oh! no, no, no!" exclaimed she. "ourson is good--violette will not leave him." "you are willing, then, that i shall embrace you? you are no longer afraid of me?" violette, without further reply, threw herself in his arms. ourson embraced her tenderly and pressed her to his heart. "dear violette, i will always love you. i will never forget that you are the only child who was ever willing to speak to me, touch me or embrace me." a short time after they arrived at the farm. agnella and passerose were seated at the door, talking together. when they saw ourson arrive holding a little girl richly dressed by the hand, they were so surprised that neither could utter a word. "dear mamma, here is a good and charming little girl whom i found sleeping in the forest. she is called violette. she is very well bred and is not afraid of me. she even embraced me when she saw me weeping." "and why did you weep, my poor boy?" said agnella. "because the little girl was afraid of me," said ourson, in a sad and trembling voice, "and hurt herself when trying to run away from me." "violette is not afraid now," said she, interrupting him hastily. "violette gave her hand to poor ourson, embraced him and fed him with cherries and strawberries." "but what is all this about?" said passerose. "why has our ourson the charge of this little girl? why was she alone in the wood? who is she? answer, ourson, i do not understand this." "i know nothing more than yourself, dear passerose," said ourson. "i saw this little child asleep in the wood all alone. she awoke and began to weep. suddenly she saw me and cried out in terror. i spoke to her and began to approach her; but she screamed again with fright. i was sorrowful--oh! so very sorrowful! i wept bitterly." "hush! hush! poor ourson," exclaimed violette, putting her little hand on his mouth; "violette will certainly never make you cry again." while saying these words violette's voice was trembling and her sweet eyes were full of tears. "good little girl!" said agnella, embracing her; "you love our poor ourson, who is so unhappy!" "oh, yes! violette loves ourson--will always love ourson!" agnella and passerose asked violette many questions about her father, mother and country; but they could learn nothing more from her than she had already told ourson. her father was a king, her mother a queen and she did not know how she came to be alone in the forest. agnella did not hesitate to take under her protection this poor lost child. she loved her already because of the affection the little one seemed to entertain for ourson and because of the happiness ourson's whole manner expressed on seeing himself loved by some one else than his mother and passerose. it was now the hour for supper. passerose laid the cloth and they all took their seats at the table. violette asked to be put at ourson's side. she was gay and laughed and talked merrily. ourson was more happy than he had ever been. agnella was contented, and passerose jumped for joy on seeing a little playmate for her dear ourson. in her transports she spilled a pan of cream which was not lost, however, as a cat came and licked it up to the last drop. after supper, violette fell asleep in her chair. "where shall we lay her?" said agnella. "i have no bed for her." "give her mine, dear mamma," said ourson; "i can sleep quite as well in the stable." agnella and passerose at first refused but ourson insisted so much upon being allowed to make this little sacrifice, that they at last consented. passerose carried violette still sleeping in her arms, undressed her without awaking her and laid her quietly in ourson's bed, near that of agnella. ourson went to sleep in the stable on the bundles of hay. he slept peacefully with content in his heart. passerose rejoined agnella in the parlor. she found her meditating, with her head resting on her hand. "of what are you thinking, dear queen?" said she; "your eyes are sad, your lips do not smile. i am come to show you the bracelets of the little stranger. this medallion ought to open but i have tried in vain to open it. perhaps we shall find here a portrait or a name." "give it to me, my child. these bracelets are beautiful; they may aid us, perhaps, in finding a resemblance which presents itself vaguely to my remembrance and which i am trying in vain to make clear." agnella took the bracelets and turned them from side to side and pressed them in every way, trying to open the medallion, but she succeeded no better than passerose had done. at the moment when, weary of her vain efforts, she returned them to passerose, she saw in the middle of the room a woman glittering as the sun; her face was of dazzling whiteness, her hair seemed made of threads of gold and a crown of glittering stars adorned her brow. her waist was small and her person seemed transparent, it was so delicate and luminous; her floating robe was studded with stars like those which formed her crown. her glance was soft yet she smiled maliciously but still with goodness. "madam," said she to agnella, "you see in me the fairy drolette, the protectress of your son and of the little princess whom he brought home this morning from the forest. this princess is nearly related to you for she is your niece--the daughter of your brother-in-law indolent and sister-in-law nonchalante. your husband succeeded after your flight in killing indolent and nonchalante, who did not distrust him and who passed all their time in sleeping, eating and lounging. unfortunately, i could not prevent this crime as i was absent assisting at the birth of a prince whose parents are under my protection, and i forgot myself while playing tricks upon a wicked old maid of honor and an old chamberlain who was cruel and avaricious, both of them friends of my sister, the fairy furious. but i arrived in time to save the princess violette, only daughter and heiress of king indolent and queen nonchalante. she was playing in the garden while the king ferocious was seeking her with his poniard in his hand. i induced her to mount on the back of my dog ami, who was ordered to leave her in the forest and to that point i directed the steps of the prince your son. conceal from both of them their birth and your own and do not allow violette to see these bracelets, which contain the portraits of her father and mother, nor the rich clothing which i have replaced by other articles better suited to the quiet existence she will lead here. i have here," said the fairy, "a casket of precious stones. it contains the happiness of violette but you must hide them from all eyes and not open the casket until she shall have been lost and found." "i will execute your orders most faithfully, madam, but i pray you tell me if my unhappy son must long wear his frightful covering." "patience! patience!" cried the fairy, "i watch over you, over violette and over your son. inform ourson of the faculty he has of exchanging his skin with any one who loves him well enough to make this sacrifice for his sake. remember that no one must know the rank of ourson or of violette. passerose, on account of devotion, deserves to be the only one initiated into this mystery and she can always be trusted. adieu, queen; count always upon my protection. here is a ring, which you must place upon your little finger. as long as you wear it there you will want for nothing." waving her farewell with her hand, the fairy took the form of a lark and flew away singing merrily. agnella and passerose looked at each other. agnella sighed, passerose smiled. "let us hide this precious casket, dear queen, and the clothing of violette. i am going now to see what the fairy has prepared for violette's dress to-morrow morning." she ran quickly and opened the wardrobe, and found it filled with clothing, linen and hosiery, all plain but good and comfortable. after having looked at all, counted all and approved all and after having assisted agnella to undress, passerose went to bed and was soon sound asleep. the dream in the morning ourson was the first awake, aroused by the lowing of the cow. he rubbed his eyes and looked about him and asked himself why he was in a stable. then he recalled the events of the day before, sprang up from his bundle of hay and ran quickly to the fountain to wash his face. while he was washing, passerose, who had like ourson risen at a very early hour and had come out to milk the cow, left the house-door open. ourson entered quietly and proceeded to the chamber of his mother, who was still sleeping. he drew back the curtains from violette's bed and found her sleeping as peacefully as agnella. ourson watched her for a long time and was happy to see that she smiled in her dreams. suddenly violette's brow contracted and she uttered a cry of alarm, half raised herself in the bed, and throwing her little arms around ourson's neck, she exclaimed: "ourson! good ourson! save poor violette! poor violette is in the water and a wicked toad is pulling violette!" she now awoke, weeping bitterly, with all the symptoms of great alarm. she clasped ourson tightly with her little arms: he tried in vain to reassure and control her but she still exclaimed: "wicked toad! good ourson! save violette!" agnella, who had awaked at her first cry, could not yet understand violette's alarm but she succeeded at last in calming her and the child told her dream. "violette was walking with ourson but he did not give his hand to violette nor look at her. a wicked toad came and pulled violette into the water; she fell and called ourson; he came and saved violette. she loves good ourson," she added, in a tender voice; "will never forget him." saying these words, violette threw herself into his arms. he, no longer fearing the effect of his bear-skin, embraced her a thousand times and comforted and encouraged her. agnella had no doubt that this dream was a warning sent by the fairy drolette. she resolved to watch carefully over violette and to make known to ourson all that she could reveal to him without disobeying the fairy. when she had washed and dressed violette, she called ourson to breakfast. passerose brought them a bowl of milk fresh from the cow, some good brown bread and a pot of butter. violette, who was hungry, shouted for joy when she saw this good breakfast. "violette loves good milk, good bread, good butter, loves everything here, with good ourson and good mamma ourson!" "i am not called mamma ourson," said agnella, laughing; "call me only mamma." "oh no, no! not mamma!" cried violette, shaking her head sadly. "mamma! mamma is lost! she was always sleeping, never walking, never taking care of poor violette, never kissing little violette, mamma ourson speaks, walks, kisses violette and dresses her. i love mamma ourson, oh, so much!" she said, seizing agnella's hand and pressing it to her heart. agnella replied by clasping her tenderly in her arms. ourson was much moved--his eyes were moist. violette perceived this and passing her hand over his eyes, she said, entreatingly: "i pray you don't cry, ourson; if you cry, violette must cry too." "no, no, dear little girl, i will cry no more. let us eat our breakfast and then we will take a walk." they breakfasted with good appetites. violette clapped her hands frequently and exclaimed: "oh how good it is! i love it! i am very glad!" after breakfast, ourson and violette went out to walk while agnella and passerose attended to the house. ourson played with violette and gathered her flowers and strawberries. she said to him: "we will always walk with each other. you must always play with violette." "i cannot always play, little girl. i have to help mamma and passerose to work." "what sort of work, ourson?" "to sweep, scour, take care of the cow, cut the grass and bring wood and water." "violette will work with ourson." "you are too little, dear violette, but still you can try." when they returned to the house, ourson started on his various tasks. violette followed him everywhere, she did her best and believed that she was helping him but she was really too small to be useful. after some days had passed away, she began to wash the cups and saucers, spread the cloth, fold the linen and wipe the table. she went to the milking with passerose, helped to strain the milk and skim it and wash the marble flag-stones. she was never out of temper, never disobedient and never answered impatiently or angrily. ourson loved her more and more from day to day. agnella and passerose were also very fond of her and the more so because they knew that she was ourson's cousin. violette loved them but ourson most of all. how could she help loving this good boy, who always forgot himself for her, who was constantly seeking to amuse and please her and who would indeed have been willing to die for his little friend? one day, when passerose had taken violette with her to market, agnella related to ourson the sad circumstances which had preceded his birth. she revealed to him the possibility of his getting rid of his hairy skin and receiving a smooth white skin in exchange if he could ever find any one who would voluntarily make this sacrifice from affection and gratitude. "never," cried ourson, "never will i propose or accept such a sacrifice. i will never consent to devote a being who loves me to that life of wretchedness which the vengeance of the fairy furious has condemned me to endure; never, from a wish of mine, shall a heart capable of such a sacrifice suffer all that i have suffered and all that i still suffer from the fear and antipathy of men." agnella argued in vain against this firm and noble resolve of ourson. he declared that she must never again speak to him of this exchange, to which he would most assuredly never give his consent and that it must never be named to violette or any other person who loved him. agnella promised compliance, after a few weak arguments. in reality she approved and admired his sentiments. she could not but hope, however, that the fairy drolette would recompense the generous and noble character of her little charge and, by some extraordinary exercise of her power, release him from his hairy skin. the toad again some years passed away in this peaceful manner without the occurrence of any remarkable event. ourson and violette both grew rapidly. agnella thought no more of violette's frightful dream; her vigilance had greatly relaxed and she often allowed her to walk alone or under the care of ourson. ourson was now fifteen years of age and he was tall and strong. no one could say whether he was handsome or homely for his long black hair covered his body and face entirely. he was good, generous and loving--always ready to render a service, always contented and cheerful. since the day when he had found violette in the wood his melancholy had disappeared; he was utterly indifferent to the general antipathy which he inspired and he no longer walked in uninhabited places but lived happily in the circle of the three beings whom he cherished and who loved him supremely. violette was now ten years old and she had not lost a single sweet charm of her beauty in growing up. her eyes were softer and more angelic, her complexion fresher and purer, her mouth more beautiful and arch in its expression. she had grown much in height--was tall, light and graceful and her rich blonde hair, when unbound, fell to her feet and entirely enveloped her like a veil. passerose had the care of this superb hair and agnella never ceased to admire it. violette had learned many things during those seven years. agnella had taught her how to do housework. in other things, ourson had been her teacher. he had taught her to read, write and keep accounts and he often read aloud to her while she was sewing. instructive and amusing books were found in her room without any one knowing where they came from. there was also clothing and other necessary objects for violette, ourson, agnella and passerose. there was no longer any necessity for going to market to sell or the neighboring village to buy. through the agency of the ring on agnella's little finger everything they wished for, or had need of, was speedily brought to them. one day when ourson was walking with violette she stumbled against a stone, fell and hurt her foot. ourson was frightened when he saw his cherished violette bleeding. he did not know what to do to relieve her; he saw how much she suffered, for, notwithstanding all her efforts, she could not suppress the tears which escaped from her eyes but finally he remembered that a brook flowed not ten paces from them. "dear violette," he said, "lean upon me and we will endeavor to reach the rivulet--the fresh water will relieve you." violette tried to walk while ourson supported her. he succeeded in seating her on the borders of the stream where she took off her shoe and bathed her delicate little foot in the fresh flowing water. "i will run to the house, dear violette, and bring some linen to wrap up your foot. wait for me, i shall not be long absent and take good care not to get nearer the stream for this little brook is deep and if you slip you might drown." when ourson was out of sight violette felt an uneasiness which she attributed to the pain caused by her wound. an unaccountable repulsion made her feel inclined to withdraw her foot from the water in which it was hanging. before she decided to obey this strange impulse she saw the water troubled and the head of an enormous toad appear upon the surface. the great swollen angry eyes of the loathsome animal were fixed upon violette, who since her dream had always had a dread of toads. the appearance of this hideous creature, its monstrous swollen body and menacing glance, froze her with such horror that she could neither move nor cry out. [illustration: _"ah, ha! you are at last in my domain, little fool!"_] "ah! ha! you are at last in my domain, little fool!" said the toad. "i am the fairy furious, the enemy of your family. i have been lying in wait for you a long time and should have had you before if my sister, the fairy drolette, had not protected you and sent you a dream to warn you against me. ourson whose hairy skin is a talisman of safety is now absent, my sister is on a journey and you are at last mine." saying these words, she seized violette's foot with her cold and shining paws and tried to draw her down into the water. violette uttered the most piercing shrieks; she struggled and caught hold of the plants and shrubs growing on the borders of the stream. the first, alas, gave way, and violette in despair seized hold of others. "ourson! oh, ourson! help! help! dear ourson, save me, save your poor violette! i am perishing! save me! help! help!" the fairy furious, in the form of a toad, was about to carry her off. the last shrub had given way and violette's last cry was hushed. the poor violette disappeared under the water just as another cry, more despairing, more terrible, answered to her own. but, alas! her hair alone appeared above the water when ourson reached the spot, breathless and panting with terror. he had heard violette's cries and had turned back with the rapidity of lightning. without a moment's hesitation he sprang into the water and seized violette by her long hair but he felt instantly that he was sinking with her. the fairy furious was drawing them to the bottom of the stream. he knew he was sinking but he did not lose his self-possession. instead of releasing violette, he seized her both arms and invoked the fairy drolette. when they reached the bottom, he gave one vigorous stroke with his heel which brought him again to the surface. holding violette securely with one arm, he swam sturdily with the other and through some supernatural force he reached the shore where he deposited the unconscious violette. her eyes were closed, her teeth tightly clenched and the pallor of death was on her face. ourson threw himself on his knees by her side weeping bitterly. brave ourson, whom no dangers could intimidate, no privation, no suffering could master, now wept like a child. his sweet sister, so well beloved! his only friend, his consolation, his happiness was lying there motionless, lifeless! ourson's strength and courage had deserted him and he sank down without consciousness by the side of his beloved violette. at this moment a lark flew rapidly up, approached violette and ourson, gave one stroke of her little beak to ourson and another to violette and disappeared. ourson was not the only one who replied to the shrieks of violette. passerose had heard them and then the more terrible cry of ourson which succeeded them. she ran to the house to apprise agnella and they both ran rapidly toward the stream from which the cries for help seemed to come. on approaching, they saw with surprise and alarm that violette and ourson were lying on the ground in a state of unconsciousness. passerose placed her hand on violette's heart and felt it still beating. agnella ascertained at the same moment that ourson was still living. she directed passerose to take violette home, undress her and put her to bed while she endeavored to restore consciousness to ourson with salts and other restoratives before conducting him to the farm. ourson was too tall and heavy to be carried while violette, on the contrary, was light and it was easy for passerose to carry her to the house. when she arrived there, she was soon restored to animation. it was some moments before she was conscious. she was still agitated with a vague remembrance of terror but without knowing what had alarmed her. during this time the tender care of agnella had restored ourson to life. he opened his eyes, gazed tenderly at his mother and threw himself weeping upon her neck. "mother, dear mother!" he exclaimed, "my violette, my beloved sister, has perished! let me die with her!" "be composed, my son," replied agnella; "violette still lives. passerose has carried her to the house and will bestow upon her all the attention she requires." ourson seemed to revive on hearing these words. he rose and wished to run to the farm but his second thought was consideration for his mother and he restrained his impatience to suit her steps. on their way to the farm he told his mother all that he knew of the events which had almost cost violette and himself their lives. he added that the slime from the mouth of the fairy furious had left a strange dulness in his head. agnella now told him how passerose and herself had found them stretched unconscious upon the border of the stream. they soon arrived at the farm, and ourson, still dripping, rushed into violette's presence. on seeing him violette remembered everything and she sprang towards him. she threw her arms around him and wept upon his bosom. ourson also wept and agnella and passerose were both in tears. it was a concert of emotion, enough to soften all hearts. passerose put an end to it by crying out: "would not one say--ha! ha!--that we were the most--ha! ha!--unfortunate people--ha! ha!--in the universe!--look at our poor ourson, wet as a water-reed, bathing himself in his own and violette's tears. courage, children, courage and happiness! see, we are all alive, thanks to ourson." "oh, yes!" interrupted violette; "thanks to ourson--to my dear, my well-beloved ourson. how shall i ever repay him for all i owe him? how can i ever testify my profound gratitude, my tender affection?" "by loving me always as you do now, my dear violette, my sister. ah! if it has indeed been in my power to render you some little service, have you not changed my whole existence? have you not made me gay and happy--me who was so wretched and so miserable before? are you not every day and every hour of the day the consolation and happiness of my life and of that of my excellent mother?" violette was still weeping and she answered only by pressing more tenderly to her heart her ourson, her adopted brother. "dear son," said his mother, "you are dripping wet. go and change your clothing. violette has need of some hours' repose. we will meet again at dinner." violette consented to go to bed but did not sleep for her heart was melting, overflowing with gratitude and tenderness. she sought in vain for some means of rewarding the devotion of ourson. she could think of no other way than that of trying to become perfect so as to increase the happiness of ourson and agnella. violette's sacrifice when the dinner hour came, violette arose, dressed herself and entered the dining-room where agnella and passerose were awaiting her. ourson was not there. "ourson is not with you, mother," said violette. "i have not seen him," said agnella. "nor i," said passerose; "i will go and seek him." she entered his chamber and found him seated upon his bed, his head resting upon his arm. "come, ourson, come quick; we are waiting dinner for you." "i cannot come," said ourson, in a weak voice; "i have a strange heaviness in my head." passerose flew to inform agnella and violette of his illness and they were by his side in an instant. ourson made an effort to rise in order to reassure them but he fell upon a chair. agnella found that he had a violent fever and she prevailed upon him to lie down. violette absolutely refused to leave him. "i am the cause of his illness," she said, "and i will not leave his side till he is well. i shall die of anxiety if you force me to leave my dear brother." agnella and passerose also installed themselves near their dear invalid but alas! soon poor ourson did not recognise them. he was delirious! he called his mother and violette every moment and continued to call them most importunately and to complain of their absence, even while they were holding him in their arms. agnella and violette never left him day nor night during all his sickness. the eighth day, agnella, exhausted with fatigue, had fallen asleep near the poor sufferer's bed; his difficult respiration and lifeless eye seemed to announce the near approach of death. violette was on her knees, holding and pressing in her fine white hands the hairy hands of ourson and covering them with tears and kisses. in the midst of this scene of desolation, a clear sweet song interrupted the mournful silence of the chamber of the dying boy. violette started. this soft melody seemed to bring consolation and happiness; she raised her head and saw a lark perched upon the open shutter. "violette!" said the lark. violette trembled fearfully. "violette," repeated the little soft voice of the lark, "do you love ourson?" "do i love him? ah! love him--i love him more than any one else--more than i love myself." "would you purchase his life at the price of your happiness?" "yes, gladly would i purchase life for him by the sacrifice of my happiness and of my own life." "listen, then, violette. i am the fairy drolette. i love ourson, i love you and i love your family. the venom which my sister the fairy furious has blown upon the head of ourson is sufficient to cause his death. nevertheless, if you are sincere, if you really feel for ourson the sentiments of gratitude and tenderness which you express, his life is in your hands. you are permitted to redeem it! but remember that you will soon be called upon to give the most terrible proof of your attachment and that if he lives you will pay for his existence by a most horrible sacrifice." "oh, madam! quick, quick, tell me what i am to do to save my dear ourson. nothing will be terrible to me, all will be joy and happiness if you aid me to save my brother ourson." "well, my child, very well," replied the fairy. "kiss his left ear three times, saying at each kiss: _'to thee!--for thee!--with thee!'_ reflect again, violette, before undertaking this cure. if you are not prepared for the most difficult sacrifices, the greatest misfortunes will overwhelm you and my sister furious will be the mistress of your life." as her only reply, violette crossed her hands upon her breast, cast upon the fairy, who was about to fly away, a look of tender gratitude, and, throwing herself upon ourson, she kissed his left ear three times, saying, with an accent loving and penetrating: "to thee!--for thee!--with thee!" scarcely had she said these words, when ourson uttered a profound sigh, opened his eyes, perceived violette and seizing her hands carried them to his lips, saying: "violette, dear violette! it seems to me i am awaking from a long dream. tell me all that has passed. why am i here? why are you so pale and thin? your cheeks are hollow, you seem to have grown old and your beautiful eyes are red with weeping." "hush!" said violette, "do not wake your mother, who is sleeping by your side. she has not slept for a long time and is much fatigued. you have been very ill, ourson!" "and you, dear violette, have you been resting?" violette blushed and hesitated. "how could i sleep, dear ourson, when i was the cause of all your sufferings?" ourson was silent. he looked at her tenderly, kissed her hands and again asked her to tell him what had passed. she told him but she was too modest and too truly devoted to reveal to him the price that the fairy had affixed to his cure. ourson, therefore, was far from knowing the truth. ourson now felt himself restored to health, rose up, proceeded to his mother softly and awakened her by a kiss. agnella thought he was delirious and called passerose who was astonished when violette told them that ourson had been restored by the good fairy drolette. after all this, ourson and violette loved each other more tenderly than ever and they never left each other unless their occupations forced them to be apart. the wild boar two years passed. one day ourson had been cutting wood in the forest. violette was to bring him his dinner and return with him in the evening. at midday passerose hung on violette's arm a basket containing wine, bread, a little pot of butter, some ham and some cherries. violette set off eagerly. the morning had appeared to her very long and she was impatient to be again with ourson. to shorten the way she went through the forest which was composed of large trees under which she could easily walk. there were neither briars nor thorns in her way and a soft, thick moss covered the earth. violette stepped lightly for she was happy to have found a shorter path to her dear ourson. when she had passed over about half the distance she heard the noise of a heavy and precipitate step but too far off for her to imagine what it could be. after some moments of expectation she saw an enormous wild boar coming towards her. he seemed greatly enraged, ploughed the ground with his tusks and rubbed the bark from the trees as he passed along. his heavy snorting and breathing were as distinctly heard as his step. violette did not know where to fly or to hide herself. while she was hesitating the wild boar came in sight, saw her, and paused. his eyes were flaming, his whole body bristling, his tusks clashing together. he uttered a ferocious grunt, and sprang towards violette. happily she was near a tree whose branches were within her reach. she seized one, sprang up with it, and climbed from branch to branch, until she knew she was beyond his reach. scarcely was she in safety when the savage animal precipitated himself with all his weight against the tree in which she had taken refuge. furious at this obstacle, he commenced tearing the bark from the tree and gave it such furious blows with his snout that violette was terribly frightened. the concussion caused by these violent and repeated blows might at last cause the fall of the tree. she clung tightly and trembling to the tree. the wild boar at last weary of his useless attacks laid himself down at the foot of the tree casting from time to time a menacing look at violette. many hours passed in this painful situation, violette trembling but holding on steadily and the wild boar, sometimes calm, sometimes in a terrible rage, springing against the tree and tearing it with his tusks. [illustration: _violette takes refuge from the wild boar_] violette called on her brother, her dear ourson, for help. at every new attempt of the wild boar she renewed her cries for aid but alas! ourson was too far off and he could not hear. no one came to her aid. discouragement and despair gained upon her; she began to feel hunger. she had thrown away the basket of provisions when she sprang up the tree, the wild boar had trampled upon it, crushed it and eaten up everything it contained. whilst violette was a prey to these terrors and vainly calling for help ourson was amazed at not seeing her come with the dinner. "can they have forgotten me?" he said to himself. "no, neither my mother nor violette could have forgotten me. i could not have explained myself well. without doubt they expected me back to dinner; they are looking for me now and are perhaps uneasy." at this thought ourson abandoned his work and commenced walking precipitately towards the house. he also wished to shorten the way and determined to cross the forest. soon he thought he heard plaintive cries of distress. he paused--he listened, his heart beat violently as he believed he recognized the voice of violette. but, no--he heard nothing now. he was about to resume his march when he heard a more distinct and piercing cry. now he knew that it must be violette, his violette, who was in danger and calling upon ourson for help. he ran in the direction from which the noise seemed to come. approaching, he heard not only calls for help but roars and growls accompanied by ferocious cries and violent blows. poor ourson ran on with the speed of despair. at last he perceived the wild boar shaking with his snout the tree upon which violette was still crouched in safety though pale and overcome. this sight gave him new strength. he invoked the protection of the good fairy drolette and rushed upon the wild boar with his axe in his hand. the wild boar in his rage bellowed furiously. he gnashed his formidable tusks one against the other and sprang towards ourson, who dodged the attack and jumped to one side. the boar passed beyond him, paused a moment, then turned more furious than ever against ourson who had now taken breath and with his axe raised in his hand awaited his enemy. the wild boar sprung on ourson and received on his head a most violent blow but his bones were so hard he scarcely seemed to feel it. the violence of the attack overthrew ourson. the wild boar, seeing his enemy on the ground, did not give him time to rise but sprang upon him and with his tusks endeavored to tear him to pieces. ourson now thought himself lost, indeed he thought no more of himself, he prayed only for violette's safety. whilst the wild boar was thus trampling and kicking his enemy, a jeering song was heard just above the combatants. the wild boar shuddered, suddenly quitted ourson, raised his head and saw a lark flying above them. the mocking song continued and the brute, uttering a cry of rage, lowered his head and withdrew slowly without once turning round. violette at sight of ourson's danger had fainted away but had rested supported by the branches of the tree. ourson, who thought himself torn to pieces, scarcely dared attempt to move but feeling no pain he rose promptly to assist violette. his heart was full of gratitude to the fairy drolette to whom he attributed his rescue. at this moment the lark flew towards him, pecked his cheeks and whispered in his ear: "ourson, it was the fairy furious who sent this wild boar. i arrived in time to save you. profit by the gratitude of violette and change skins with her. she will consent joyfully." "never!" cried ourson. "i would rather be a bear all my life--rather die. poor violette! i should indeed be base if i abused her tenderness towards me in this way." "good-bye, obstinate one!" said the lark, flying away singing, "till we meet again. i shall come again--and then----" "the result will be the same," said ourson. he then climbed the tree, took violette in his arms, and descended. he laid her upon the soft green moss and bathed her forehead with a little wine he found in a broken bottle. in a few moments violette was restored to consciousness. she could scarcely believe her senses when she saw ourson, living and unwounded, kneeling by her side and bathing her forehead and temples. "ourson! dear ourson! again you have saved my life. tell me, oh! tell me, what can i do to prove my gratitude?" "do not speak of gratitude, my cherished violette. do i not owe all my happiness to you? in saving your life i save my own and all i value." "all that you say, dear brother, is sweet and tender but i desire no less to render you some real and signal service, which will show all the gratitude and all the love with which my heart is filled." "good! good! we shall see," said ourson, laughing. "in the mean time let us think of preserving our lives. you have eaten nothing since morning, poor violette, for i see on the ground the remnants of the provisions you brought, as i suppose, for our dinner. it is late and the day is declining so we must hurry to return to the farm before dark." violette now tried to rise but her terror and her long fast had weakened her so much that she fell to the ground. "i cannot stand, ourson, i am too weak. what will become of us?" ourson was greatly embarrassed. violette was no longer a child and had grown so large that he could not carry her so far, neither could he leave her exposed to the attacks of the ferocious beasts of the forest and he feared she could not do without food till the morning. in this perplexity he saw a packet fall at his feet. he raised it, opened it and found a pie, a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. ourson knew that this bounty was from the hand of the fairy drolette and with a heart full of gratitude he put the bottle to violette's lips. one mouthful of this good wine which was indeed unequalled restored a portion of violette's strength. the pie and the bread completely restored her as well as ourson who did full honor to the repast. while eating and drinking they conversed of their past terrors and present happiness. now, however, it was night and neither violette nor ourson knew which way to turn their steps in order to reach the farm. they were in the midst of a wood. violette was reclining against the tree which had been her refuge from the wild boar. they dared not quit this spot lest in the obscurity they might not find as comfortable a one. "well, dear violette, do not be alarmed. it is warm, the weather is beautiful and you are reclining upon a bed of soft green moss. let us pass the night where we are. i will cover you with my coat and i will lie at your feet to protect you from all danger and alarm. mamma and passerose will not be very anxious for they are ignorant of the dangers we have encountered and you know that we have often on a lovely evening like this reached home after they had retired." violette consented willingly to pass the night in the forest. in the first place, they could not do otherwise; secondly, she was never afraid with ourson and always thought that what he decided to do was right. [illustration: _violette consented willingly to pass the night in the forest_] ourson now arranged violette's bed of moss in the best possible manner, took off his coat and in spite of her resistance spread it over her. then, after having seen violette's eyes close and sleep take possession of all her senses he lay at her feet and soon slept most profoundly. violette was the first awake in the morning. she walked around the tree which had sheltered them during the night. ourson awaked and not seeing violette he sprang up in an instant and called her name in a voice choking with terror. "i am here! i am here, dear brother!" she replied, running towards him; "i am seeking the path to the farm. but what is the matter? you tremble!" "i thought you had been carried away by some wicked fairy, dear violette, and i reproached myself for having fallen asleep. let us go now quickly in order to reach home before mamma and passerose are awake." ourson knew the forest well. he soon found the path to the farm and they arrived some moments before agnella and passerose awoke. they agreed to conceal from agnella the dangers to which they had been exposed, to spare her anguish and disquietude for the future. passerose alone was made the confidant of their dangerous adventures. the conflagration ourson now forbade violette to go alone in the forest. she was no longer allowed to carry him his dinner so he always returned to the house at midday. violette never left the farm without ourson. three years after the event in the forest, ourson saw violette arise in the morning pale and exhausted. she was seeking him. "come, come," she said, drawing him along, "i have something to say--something to relate--oh, come!" ourson was much alarmed and followed her precipitately. "what is it, dear violette? for the love of heaven, speak to me! what can i do for you?" "nothing, nothing, dear ourson; you can do nothing--only listen to me. you remember the dream i had in my childhood, of the toad! the river! the danger! well, last night i had this same dream again. it is terrible! terrible! ourson, dear ourson, your life is menaced! if you die, i will die also!" "how! by whom is my life threatened?" "listen! i was sleeping and a toad--still a toad--always a toad--came to me and said: "'the moment approaches when your dear ourson is to resume his natural skin. to you he is to be indebted for this change. i hate him! i hate you! you shall not make each other happy! ourson shall perish and you cannot accomplish the sacrifice which in your folly you meditate. in a few days, yes, perhaps in a few hours i shall take a signal vengeance upon you both. good-bye--do you hear?--till we meet again!' "i awoke, suppressed a cry which was about to issue from my lips and saw, as i saw on that day in which you saved me from the water, the hideous toad creeping upon the shutter and gazing at me menacingly. it disappeared, leaving me more dead than alive. i arose dressed myself and came to find you my brother, my friend to warn you against the vengeance of the fairy furious and to entreat you to seek the aid of the good fairy drolette." ourson listened in great alarm. he was not frightened by the fate which menaced himself--he was agitated by the sacrifice which furious announced and which he understood but too well. the thought alone of his dear and lovely violette being muffled up in his hideous bear's skin through devotion to him made him tremble and he preferred death. ourson's anguish was pictured in his countenance, and violette, who was watching him closely, threw herself upon his neck and sobbed violently. "alas! my brother, my dear brother, you will soon be torn from me. you, who do not know what it is to fear, now tremble. you who comfort me encourage me and sustain me in all my fears have now no word to utter to restore my failing courage. you who have combated the most terrible dangers now bow your head and are resigned to fate." "no, violette, it is not fear which makes me tremble--it is not fear which agitates me. it is a word which the fairy furious has uttered, of which you do not comprehend the meaning but which i understand perfectly. the threat was addressed to you, my violette. it is for you i tremble!" violette divined from this that the moment of sacrifice had come, that she was about to be called upon to keep the promise she had made to the fairy drolette. in place of trembling and shrinking, she felt the most lively joy. she could now at last make some return for the devotion, the incessant watchful tenderness of her dear ourson--could in her turn be useful to him. she made no response to the fears expressed by ourson but thanked him and spoke to him more tenderly than ever before, thinking that soon perhaps she would be separated from him by death. ourson had the same thought. they both fervently invoked the protection of the fairy drolette. ourson, indeed, called upon her in a loud voice but she did not respond to his appeal. the day passed away sadly. neither ourson nor violette spoke to agnella on the subject of their disquiet for fear of aggravating her melancholy which had been constantly increasing as ourson grew to manhood. "already twenty years old!" thought she. "if he persists in living in this solitude and seeing no one and in refusing to change with violette, who asks nothing better, i am certain, i am convinced, he will wear this bear-skin till his death." agnella wept, often wept; but her tears brought her no remedy. the day violette had her frightful dream, agnella also had a dream. the fairy drolette had appeared to her: "courage, queen," she said to her, "in a few days ourson will lose his bear's skin and you can give him his true name of prince marvellous." agnella had awaked full of hope and happiness. she redoubled her tenderness to violette, believing that it was to her she would owe the happiness of her son. every one retired at night with different feelings. violette and ourson, full of anxiety for the future which appeared so threatening, agnella's heart bounding with joy at that same future which appeared so near and so replete with happiness, passerose, astonished at the melancholy of the one and the joy of the other and ignorant of the cause of both. all slept, however. violette after weeping profusely. ourson after having invoked the fairy drolette; agnella after smiling and thinking of ourson handsome and attractive and passerose after saying to herself a hundred times: "but what is the matter with them all to-day?" scarcely an hour after all at the farm were asleep, violette was aroused by the smell of fire and smoke. agnella awoke at the same moment. "mother," said violette, "do you not smell something?" "the house is on fire," said agnella. "look what a light is round about us!" they sprang from their beds and ran to the parlor. the flames had already taken possession of it and of the neighboring chambers. "ourson! passerose!" cried agnella. "ourson! ourson!" exclaimed violette. passerose sprang half clothed into the parlor. "we are lost, madam! the flames are all through the house. the doors and windows are firmly closed--it is impossible to open them." "my son! my son!" cried agnella. "my brother! my brother!" exclaimed violette. they ran to the doors; all their efforts to open them or the windows were ineffectual. "oh! my terrible dream!" murmured violette. "dear ourson, adieu for ever!" ourson had also been awakened by the flames and smoke. he slept out of the farm-house, and near the stable. his first impulse was to run to the front of the house but notwithstanding his extraordinary strength he could not open it. one would have thought that the door would break to pieces under his efforts. it was evidently held fast by the fairy furious. ourson sprang upon a ladder and passed across the flames into a granary through an open window, then descended into the room where his mother and violette were embracing, expecting instant death. before they had time to recognize him he seized them in his arms and cried to passerose to follow him. he ran along the granary and descended the ladder with his mother in one arm and violette in the other and followed by passerose. the moment after they reached the ground in safety, the ladder and granary became a prey to the flames. ourson led agnella and violette some distance from the fire. passerose was self-possessed: she had quite a large package of clothing which she had collected at the commencement of the fire. agnella and violette had escaped barefooted and in their night robes, and the clothing brought by passerose was thus very necessary to protect them from the cold. after having thanked ourson for saving their lives at the peril of his own they complimented passerose upon her forethought. "see," said passerose, "the advantage of not losing one's senses. whilst you two were only thinking of your ourson, i made up this package of necessary things." "that is true, my good passerose; but what purpose would your package have served, if my mother and violette had perished in the flames?" "oh, i knew very well that you would not allow them to be burned up alive. is any one ever in danger when you are present? is not this the third time you have saved violette's life?" violette pressed ourson's hands tenderly and carried them to her lips. agnella embraced her and said: "dear violette, ourson is happy in your tenderness which fully rewards him for all he has done for you. i feel assured that on your part you would be happy to sacrifice yourself for him if an occasion offered, that only too willingly would you help him." before violette could speak, ourson said with animation: "mother, do not say anything to violette of sacrificing herself for me. you know the thought alone makes me wretched." in place of replying to ourson, agnella placed her hand on her forehead and cried out anxiously: "the casket, passerose! the casket! have you saved the casket?" "i forgot it, madam," said passerose. the countenance of agnella expressed such regret and anxiety, that ourson questioned her as to this precious casket which seemed to trouble her so much. "the casket was a present of the fairy drolette. she told me that the happiness of violette was contained in it. it was in the wardrobe, at the foot of my bed. alas! by what fatality did i forget it?" she had scarcely uttered these words when the brave ourson sprang towards the burning house and notwithstanding the tears and supplications of agnella, violette and passerose, disappeared in the flames exclaiming: "you shall have the casket, mother, or i will perish with it!" a horrible silence followed this act of ourson. violette fell on her knees with her arms extended towards the burning house, agnella with her hands clasped looked with straining eyes at the opening through which ourson had entered while passerose was motionless, hiding her face with her hands. some moments passed thus and they appeared ages to the three women who were expecting a sentence of life or death. ourson did not reappear. the crackling of the burning wood, the flashing of the flames, increased in violence. suddenly, a frightful noise made violette and agnella utter a cry of despair. the roof, covered with flames, had fallen in and ourson was buried under the ruins--crushed by the ruins, consumed by the fire. the silence of death succeeded this dreadful catastrophe. the flames diminished, then died away--no sound now interrupted the despair of agnella and violette. violette had fallen into the arms of agnella and they sobbed thus a long time in silence. passerose contemplated the smoking ruins and wept. poor ourson was buried there a victim of his courage and his devotion! agnella and violette still wept bitterly; they appeared neither to hear nor understand what was passing around them. "let us leave this place," said passerose, at last. agnella and violette made no response. passerose tried to lead violette away. "come," said she; "come, violette, let us seek a shelter for the night--the evening fortunately is mild." "what shelter do i want?" said violette. "what is the evening to me or the morning? there are no more beautiful days for me! the sun will shine no more but to illumine my despair!" "but if we remain here weeping we shall die of hunger, violette, and in spite of the bitterest grief, we must think of the necessities of life." "better to die of hunger than of grief! i will not leave this place where i saw my dear ourson for the last time--where he perished, a victim of his tenderness for us." passerose shrugged her shoulders; she remembered that the stable had not been burned so she ran there with all speed, milked the cow, drank a cupful of milk and tried in vain to make agnella and violette do the same. agnella rose and said to violette in a solemn tone: "your grief is just, my daughter. never did a more noble or generous heart beat in a human form than ourson's and he loved you more than he loved himself--to spare your grief he sacrificed his happiness and his life." agnella now recounted to violette the scene which preceded ourson's birth, the power violette had to deliver him from his deformity by accepting it for herself and ourson's constant prayer that violette should never be informed of the possibility of such a sacrifice. it is easy to comprehend the feelings of loving tenderness and regret which filled the heart of violette after this confidence and she wept more bitterly than ever. "and now, my daughter," continued agnella, "there remains one duty to fulfil, that is to give burial to my son. we must clear away these ruins and remove the ashes and when we have found the remains of our well-beloved ourson----" sobs interrupted her speech; she could say no more. the well agnella, violette and passerose walked slowly towards the burned walls of the farmhouse. with the courage of despair they removed the smoking ruins. they worked diligently two days before this work was completed. no vestige of poor ourson appeared and yet they had removed piece by piece, handful by handful, all that covered the site. on removing the last half-burned planks, violette perceived an aperture, which she quickly enlarged. it was the orifice of a well. her heart beat violently--a vague hope inspired it. "ourson!" cried she, with a faint voice. "violette! dear violette! i am here; i am saved!" violette could reply only by a smothered cry; she lost her consciousness and fell into the well which enclosed her dear ourson. if the good fairy drolette had not watched over her fall, she would have broken her head and limbs against the sides of the well. but their kind protectress, who had already rendered them so many services, sustained her and she fell safely at ourson's feet. violette soon returned to consciousness. their happiness was too great to be believed in--to be trusted. they did not cease to give the most tender assurances of affection. and now they were aroused from their ecstasy by the cries of passerose, who, losing sight of violette and seeking her amongst the ruins, discovered the open well. peering into the darkness she saw violette's white robe and she imagined that the poor girl had thrown herself intentionally into the well and there found the death she sought. passerose screamed loud enough to destroy her lungs. agnella came slowly forward to know the cause of this alarm. "be silent, passerose," cried ourson in a loud voice; "you are frightening our mother. i am in the well with violette; we are happy and want for nothing." "oh blessed news! blessed news!" cried passerose; "i see them! i see them! madam, madam, come quickly, quickly! they are here--they are well--they have need of nothing!" agnella, pale, and half dead with emotion, listened to passerose without comprehending her. she fell on her knees and had not strength to rise. but when she heard the voice of her dear ourson calling to her: "mother, mother, your poor son ourson still lives!" she sprang toward the well, and would have precipitated herself within, had not passerose seized her by the arms and drawn her back suddenly. "for the love of ourson, dear queen, do not throw yourself into this hole; you will kill yourself! i will restore ourson and violette to you unharmed." agnella, trembling with happiness, comprehended the wisdom of the counsel given by passerose. she remained rooted to the spot but shuddering with agitation while passerose ran to seek a ladder. passerose was absent a long time which was excusable as she was somewhat confused. first she seized a cord, then a pitchfork, then a chair. for an instant she thought of lowering the cow to the bottom of the well so that poor ourson might have a drink of fresh warm milk. at last she found the ladder before her eyes, almost in her hands, but she had not seen it. while passerose was seeking the ladder, ourson and violette talked incessantly of their present happiness and the despair and anguish they had endured. "i passed uninjured through the flames," said ourson, "and sought groping about for the wardrobe of my mother. the smoke suffocated and blinded me. then i felt myself raised by the hair and cast to the bottom of this well where you have come to join me, dear violette. "in place of finding water, or even moisture here, i felt at once a sweet, fresh air. a soft carpet was spread on the bottom: you see it is still here. there was from some source sufficient light around me. i found ample provisions at my side. look at them, violette, i have not touched them. a few drops of wine was all i could swallow. "the knowledge of your despair and that of my mother rendered me too unhappy and the fairy drolette took pity on me. she appeared to me under your form, dear violette, and i took her for you and sprang forward to seize you in my arms but i embraced only a vague form of air or vapor. i could see her but i could not touch her. "'ourson', said the fairy, smiling sweetly upon me, 'i have assumed violette's form to testify my friendship in the most agreeable way. be comforted; you shall see her to-morrow. she weeps bitterly, because she believes you to be dead but i will send her to you to-morrow. she will make you a visit at the bottom of this well. she will accompany you when you go forth from this tomb and you shall see your mother and the blue heavens and the dazzling sun which neither your mother nor violette wish to look upon since your loss, but which appeared beautiful to them while you were with them. you will return once more to this well for it contains your happiness.' "'my happiness!' i exclaimed to the fairy; 'when i have found my mother and my violette i shall be in possession of all my happiness.' "'believe implicitly what i say. this well contains your happiness and that of violette.' "'violette's happiness, madam, is to live with me and my mother.'" "ah! you replied well," interrupted violette. "but what said the fairy?" "'i know what i say,' she answered. 'in a few days something will be wanting to complete your happiness. you will find it here. we will meet again, ourson. remember what i have said.' "'yes, madam; i hope it will be soon.' "'when you see me again, my poor child, you will be scarcely content and then you will wish that you had never seen me. silence and farewell.' "she flew away smiling sweetly, leaving behind her a delicious perfume and an atmosphere so soft and heavenly that it diffused a peaceful calm in my heart. i suffered no more--i expected you." violette on her part comprehended better than ourson why the next return of the fairy would be painful to him. since agnella had revealed to her in confidence the nature of the sacrifice that she could impose upon herself, she was resolved to accomplish it, in spite of the opposition of ourson. she thought only of the delight of giving an immense proof of her affection. this hope tempered her joy at having found him. when ourson had completed his narrative, they heard the shrill voice of passerose crying out to them: "look, look, my children! the ladder. i will put it down to you. take care that it does not fall on your heads. you must have some provisions down there; send them up, if you please; we are somewhat destitute above here. for two days i have only had a little milk to drink and a crust. your mother and violette have lived upon the air and their tears. softly! softly! take care not to break the ladder. madam! madam! here they are: here are ourson's and violette's heads--good! step up! there you are!" agnella, still pallid and trembling, was immovable as a statue. after having seen violette in safety, ourson sprang from the well and threw himself into his mother's arms. she covered him with tears and kisses and held him a long time clasped to her heart. after having thought him dead during so many painful hours, it seemed a dream to her almost impossible to realize that she was holding him safe once more. finally passerose terminated this melting scene by seizing ourson and saying to him: "now it is my turn! i am forgotten, forsooth, because i do not bathe myself in tears; because i keep my head cool and preserve my strength. was it not passerose, after all, who got you out of that terrible hole? speak the truth." "yes, yes, my good passerose! you may believe that i love you and indeed i thank you for drawing me out of it where, however, i was doing very well after my sweet violette came down to me." "but now i think of it," said passerose, "tell me, violette, how did you get to the bottom of that well without killing yourself?" "i did not go down purposely. i fell and ourson received me in his arms." "all this is not very clear," said passerose. "the fairy drolette had something to do with it." "yes, the good and amiable fairy," said ourson. "she is always counteracting the cruelties of her wicked sister." while thus talking merrily, their stomachs gave indication that they were suffering for dinner. ourson had left in the well the provisions furnished by the fairy. the rest of the happy family were still embracing and weeping over past remembrances but passerose without saying a word descended into the well and remounted with the provisions which she placed on a bundle of straw; she then placed around the table four other bundles of straw for seats. "dinner is ready," said she; "come and eat; you all need food. the good queen and violette will soon fall from exhaustion. ourson has had a little wine but he has eaten nothing. here is a pie, a ham, bread and wine. long life to the good fairy!" agnella, violette and ourson did not require to be told a second time but placed themselves gayly at the table. their appetites were good and the repast excellent. happiness illuminated every countenance; they talked, laughed, clasped each other's hands and were in paradise. when dinner was over, passerose was surprised that the fairy drolette had not provided for all their wants. "look," said she, "the house is in ruins, we are destitute of everything! the stable is our only shelter, the straw our only bed and the provisions i brought up from the well our only food. formerly everything was provided before we had the time to ask for it." agnella looked suddenly at her hand--the ring was no longer there! they must now gain their bread by the sweat of their brows. ourson and violette seeing her air of consternation demanded the cause of it. "alas! my children, you will no doubt think me very ungrateful to feel disquieted about the future in the midst of our great happiness but i perceive that during the fire i have lost the ring given me by the good fairy and this ring would have furnished us with all the necessaries of life so long as it was upon my finger. alas! i have it no longer. what shall we do?" "dismiss all anxiety, dear mother," said ourson. "am i not tall and strong? i will seek for work and you can all live on my wages." "and i, too," said violette, "can i not assist my good mother and passerose? in seeking work for yourself, ourson, you can also find something for me to do." "i will go at once and seek work," said ourson. "adieu, mother. we will meet again, violette." kissing their hands, he set off with a light step. he had no presentiment, poor boy, of the reception which awaited him in the three houses where he sought employment. the farm--the castle--the forge ourson walked more than three hours before he arrived at a large and beautiful farm where he hoped to obtain employment. he saw from a distance the farmer and his family seated before his front door taking their evening meal. he was but a short way off when one of the children, a little boy about ten years of age, perceived him. he sprang from his seat, uttered a cry of terror and fled into the house. a second child, a little girl eight years old, hearing the cry of her brother turned towards ourson and commenced the most piercing shrieks. all the family now followed the movement of the children and turned around. at the sight of ourson the women cried out with terror and the children fled in wild alarm. the men seized sticks and pitchforks expecting to be attacked by poor ourson whom they took for some extraordinary animal escaped from a menagerie. ourson, seeing this movement of terror and preparation for attack, spoke to them hoping to dissipate their fears. "i am not a bear, as you seem to suppose, but a poor boy seeking work and who would be very glad if you should give him employment." the farmer was greatly amazed to hear a bear speak. he did not know whether to fly or to interrogate him further. he resolved, however, to speak. "who are you and from whence do you come?" "i come from the woodland farm and i am the son of agnella," ourson replied. "ah, then it was you who in your childhood went with your mother to market and frightened all our children to death. you have lived in the woods and done without our help. why do you seek us now? go away and live as you have lived heretofore." "our farm-house is burned to the ground. i have to work now with my hands to support my mother and sister. for this reason, i pray you to give me work. i will do all you command me." "do you suppose, boy, that i will take into my service a villainous animal like you who will frighten my wife and my servants to death and throw my children into convulsions? i am not quite such a fool, my boy; not quite such a fool. enough of this. be off, and allow us to finish our dinner." "master farmer, be merciful. only try my work. place me altogether by myself; then no one will fear me. i will conceal myself so well that your children shall not see me." "will you be done talking, wicked bear? go instantly; if you don't you shall feel the teeth of my pitchfork." poor ourson bowed his head. tears of humiliation and disappointment glittered in his eyes. he withdrew slowly, followed by the coarse laugh and shouts of the farm hands. when out of sight he no longer restrained his tears, but in all this shame and despair the thought that violette could take upon herself his ugly covering did not enter his thoughts. ourson walked on till he came in sight of a castle where he saw a crowd of men coming, going and laboring at every kind of work. some were mowing, some raking, some currying horses, some sweeping, some watering plants, some sowing. "here is a house where i shall certainly find work," said ourson to himself. "i see neither women nor children and i think the men will not be afraid of me." ourson drew near without being seen. he took off his hat and stood before a man who seemed to be the superintendent. "sir--" said he. the man looked up, recoiled a step when he saw ourson and examined him with the greatest surprise. "who are you and what do you want?" said he, in a rude voice. "sir, i am the son of agnella, mistress of the woodland farm." "well! and what has brought you here?" "our house is burned down, sir. i am seeking work in order to support my mother and sister. i hope you will be good enough to give me employment." "give employment to a bear?" "sir, i have only the appearance of a bear. under this rough outside, which is so repugnant to you, there beats a human heart--a heart capable of gratitude and affection. you shall have no reason to complain either of my work or of my good will." whilst ourson spoke and the superintendent listened with a mocking air, a great noise was heard amongst the horses. they began to kick and prance and the grooms could scarcely hold them. some of them indeed escaped and fled in terror to the woods. "it is the bear! it is the bear!" cried the grooms. "it has terrified the horses. drive it off! chase it away! we cannot control our horses." "off with you!" cried the superintendent. ourson was stupefied by his misfortunes and was immovable. "ha! you will not go," vociferated the man. "wait a few moments, you hairy beast. i will give you something to run for. halloa, men! bring out the dogs, and set them upon this animal. hurry!--see him scampering off!" in fact ourson, more dead than alive at this cruel treatment, precipitately withdrew from the presence of these wicked and inhuman men. this second attempt had failed utterly but he would not allow himself to be discouraged. "it is still three or four hours before sunset so i have time to continue my search for work." he directed his steps towards a forge which was some distance from woodland farm. the master of the forge employed a great many workmen. he gave work to those who asked it, not in charity, but in view of his own interest. he was feared but he was not loved. he developed the riches of the country but no one thanked him for it because he alone profited by it. by his avidity and his opulence he ground down the poor workmen who could only find employment with this new marquis of carabas. poor ourson arrived at the forge. the master was at the door, scolding some, threatening others and terrifying all. "sir," said ourson, drawing near, "have you any work to give me?" "certainly. what kind of work----?" he raised his head at these words for he had replied without looking at ourson. when his eye fell upon him he did not finish his phrase; his eyes flashed with rage and he stammered out:-"what foolery is this? are we in the midst of the carnival, that a workman ventures upon such a ridiculous masquerade? throw off your ugly bear's skin instantly or i will crisp your bristles for you in my fire." "this, sir, is no masquerade," replied ourson, sadly; "it is, alas! my natural skin but if you will be humane enough to employ me you will see that my strength is equal to my goodwill." "i give work to you, you vile animal!" cried the master of the forge, foaming with rage: "i will put you into a sack and send you to a menagerie or i will throw you into a den with your brother bears. you will have work enough to defend yourself from their claws. be off!" and brandishing his club he would have dealt ourson a heavy blow if the poor boy had not made a hasty retreat. the sacrifice ourson turned his steps homeward, discouraged and exhausted. he walked slowly and arrived at the farm late. violette ran to meet him, took him by the hand, and without saying a word led him to his mother. there she fell on her knees and said:-"my mother, i know what our well-beloved ourson has suffered to-day. during his absence the fairy furious has told me all and the good fairy drolette has confirmed her story. my mother, when our ourson was, as we believed, lost to us for ever and lost for my sake you revealed to me that which in his nobility and goodness he wished to conceal. i know that by changing skins with him i can restore to him his original beauty. happy, a hundred times happy in having this opportunity to recompense the tenderness and devotion of my dearly-loved brother ourson, i demand to make this exchange allowed by the fairy drolette and i entreat her to complete the transfer immediately." "violette! violette!" exclaimed ourson, in great agitation, "take back your words! you do not know to what you engage yourself; you are ignorant of the life of anguish and misery unparalleled, the life of solitude and isolation to which you thus condemn yourself; you know not the unceasing desolation you will feel at knowing that you are an object of fear to all mankind. violette, violette, in pity to me, withdraw your words!" "dear ourson," said violette, calmly, but resolutely, "in making what you believe to be so great a sacrifice, i accomplish the dearest wish of my heart; i secure my own happiness; i satisfy an ardent and imperious desire to testify my tenderness and my gratitude. i esteem myself for doing what i propose. i should despise myself if i left it undone." "pause, violette, for one instant longer, i beseech you! think of my grief, when i no longer see my beautiful violette, when i think of you exposed to the railleries, the horror of men. oh! violette, do not condemn your poor ourson to this anguish." the lovely face of violette was veiled with sadness. the fear that ourson would feel repugnance towards her made her heart tremble; but this thought, which was wholly personal, was very fleeting--it could not triumph over her devoted tenderness. her only response was to throw herself in the arms of agnella, and say:-"mother, embrace your fair and pretty violette for the last time." whilst agnella, ourson and passerose embraced her and looked lovingly upon her--whilst ourson, on his knees, supplicated her to leave him his bear-skin to which he had been accustomed for twenty years--violette called out again in a loud voice:-"fairy drolette! fairy drolette! come and accept the price of the life and health of my dear ourson." at this moment the fairy drolette appeared in all her glory. she was seated in a massive chariot of gold, drawn by a hundred and fifty larks. she was clothed with a robe of butterflies' wings, of the most brilliant colors while from her shoulders fell a mantle of network of diamonds, which trailed ten feet behind her and it was so fine in texture that it was light as gauze. her hair, glittering like tissue of gold, was ornamented by a crown of carbuncles more brilliant than the sun; each of her slippers was carved from a single ruby and her beautiful face, soft, yet gay, breathed contentment. she fixed upon violette a most affectionate regard. "you wish it, then, my daughter?" said she. "madam," cried ourson, falling at her feet, "deign to listen to me. you, who have loaded me with undeserved benefits--you, who have inspired me with boundless gratitude--you, good and just--will you execute the mad wish of my dear violette? will you make my whole life wretched by forcing me to accept this sacrifice? no, no, charming and humane fairy, you could not, you will not do it!" whilst ourson was thus supplicating, the fairy gave violette a light touch with her wand of pearl and ourson another--then said:-"let it be according to the wish of your heart, my daughter. let it be contrary to your ardent desires, my son." at the same moment, the face, arms and the whole body of the lovely young girl were covered with the long hair which ourson had worn, and ourson appeared with a white smooth skin, which set off his extreme beauty to advantage. violette gazed at him with admiration, while he, his eyes cast down and full of tears, dared not look at his poor violette, so horribly metamorphosed. at last he looked up, threw himself in her arms, and they wept together. ourson was marvellously handsome. violette was, as ourson had been, without form, without beauty, but not ugly. when violette raised her head and looked at agnella, the latter extended her hands towards her, and said:-"thanks, my daughter, my noble, generous child." "mother," said violette, in low voice, "do you love me still?" "do i love you, my cherished child? yes, a hundred times, a thousand times more than ever before." "violette," said ourson, "never fear being ugly in our eyes. to my eyes, you are a hundred times more beautiful than when clothed with all your loveliness. to me you are a sister--a friend incomparable. you will always be the companion of my life, the ideal of my heart." the combat violette was about to reply, when a kind of roaring was heard in the air, and they saw descend a chariot made of crocodile's skin, drawn by fifty enormous toads. all the toads were hissing and blowing, and would have cast their infectious venom in every direction, if they had not been restrained by the power of the fairy drolette. when the chariot reached the ground, the fairy furious, a huge and heavy creature, issued from it. her big eyes seemed bursting from their sockets, her large flat nose covered her wrinkled, withered cheeks, her monstrous mouth extended from ear to ear and when it was open a long pointed black tongue was seen licking her horrid teeth. she was not more than three feet in height and was very corpulent; her grizzly skin was gluey and cold, like a snail's and her thin red hair fell in locks of unequal length around her throat, which was disfigured by a goitre. her large, flat hands looked like the fins of a shark, her dress was made of snail's skins and her mantle of the skins of toads. she advanced towards ourson (who shall hereafter be known by his true name of prince marvellous) with a slow step. she paused in front of him and casting a furious glance upon the fairy drolette and an eye of mocking triumph upon violette, she folded her great cold arms and said in a sharp yet hoarse voice:-"my sister has triumphed over me, prince marvellous. i have, however, one consolation: you will not be happy, because you have obtained your original beauty at the expense of that little fool, who is now frightful and repugnant and whom you will now never wish to approach. yes! yes! weep, my handsome ourson! you will weep a long time, violette, and you will regret bitterly, if you do not already regret, that you have given your beautiful skin to the prince marvellous." "never, madam, never! my only regret is that i did not know sooner what i could do to testify my gratitude." the fairy drolette, whose countenance had assumed an unaccustomed expression of severity and irritation, now waved her wand and said:-"silence, sister! you shall not triumph long over the misfortunes of violette. i will provide a remedy for those misfortunes: her generous devotion merits recompense." "i defy you to come to her assistance under penalty of my wrath," said furious. "i do not doubt your rage, sister, but i disdain to punish you for it," replied drolette. "to punish me!--do you dare to threaten me?" said furious. and hissing furiously, she called her chariot, mounted it, rose in the air and tried to launch upon drolette all the venom of her toads in order to suffocate her. but drolette knew her sister perfectly. her faithful larks held the door of her chariot open and she sprang within. the larks rose in the air, hovered above the toads, and then lowered themselves rapidly upon them. the toads, in spite of their weight, escaped the blows by turning adroitly to one side. they however threw their venom on the larks which were nearest to them, who died instantly. drolette detached them with the rapidity of a thunder-bolt, rose again in the air and fell so adroitly on the toads, that the larks tore out their eyes with their claws, before furious had time to come to the rescue of her army. the outcries of the toads and the hissing of the larks made a deafening noise; and the fairy drolette called out to her friends, who were regarding the combat with terror:-"withdraw immediately and stop your ears!" which was done instantly, in obedience to her command. the fairy furious made one last effort. she guided her blinded toads in such a way as to meet the larks face to face, and to dart their venom upon them. but drolette rose higher and higher in the air and furious found herself always under her sister's chariot. at last, unable to contain her rage, furious cried out:-"you are assisted by the queen of the fairies, an old fool whom i should gladly see in the lower regions!" scarcely had she pronounced these words when her chariot fell heavily to the earth. the toads perished and the chariot disappeared. the fairy furious only remained, in the form of an enormous toad. she wished to speak but she could only bellow and snuffle. she gazed at drolette and her larks--at prince marvellous, violette and agnella, in a transport of rage but her power was destroyed. the fairy drolette lowered her chariot, descended to the earth and said:-"the queen of the fairies has punished you for your audacity, sister. repent, if you wish to obtain pardon." the only answer of furious was to spit forth her poisonous venom, which happily reached no one. drolette extended her wand towards her and said: "i command you to disappear and never to appear again to the prince marvellous, to violette or to their mother." drolette had scarcely uttered these words when the toad disappeared; there remained no vestige of the chariot or of herself. drolette remained some time motionless. she passed her hand over her brow, as if to chase away a sad thought; then approaching prince marvellous, she said to him:-"prince, the title which i give you indicates your birth. you are the son of king ferocious and the queen aimee, concealed till now under the appearance of a modest farmer woman. the name of your father sufficiently indicates his character. your mother having prevented him from killing his brother indolent and his sister-in-law nonchalante, he turned his rage against her. i was her protectress, and carried her off with her faithful passerose in a cloud. "and you, princess violette, your birth is equal to that of prince marvellous. your father and mother were that same king indolent and queen nonchalante who, saved once by queen aimee, became at last the victims of king ferocious and their own apathy. since that time king ferocious has been killed by his subjects who could no longer support his cruel yoke. "they expect you, prince, to reign over them. i have revealed to them your existence and i have promised them that you will take a wife worthy of you. you can select from the twelve princesses whom your father retained captive after having slain their parents. they are all wise and beautiful and each has a kingdom for her marriage portion." surprise had kept prince marvellous silent. at the last words of the fairy he turned towards violette, and seeing that she was weeping, he said:-"why do you weep, my violette? do you fear that i will blush for you--that i will not dare to testify before my whole court the tenderness with which you inspire me? that i will conceal what you have done for me or forget the bonds which attach me to you for ever? can you believe that i will be ungrateful enough to seek any other affection than yours and fill your place by any of those princesses held captive by my father? no, dearest violette! until this time i have seen in you only a sister but from this moment you are the companion of my life, my sole friend, my wife!" "your wife, dear brother? that is impossible! how can you seat upon your throne a creature so repulsive as your poor violette? how will you dare to brave the raillery of your subjects and of the neighboring kings? and how could i show my deformity in the midst of the festivals given on your return to your kingdom? no, no, my brother! let me live near you, near to your mother, alone, unknown, covered with a veil. i cannot be your wife! no one shall blame you for having made so sad a choice." the prince insisted long and firmly. violette could scarcely control her emotions but she resisted with as much resolution as devotion. agnella said nothing. she would have been willing that her son should accept even this last sacrifice from poor violette and simply allow her to live near to them but hidden from the world. passerose wept and in a low tone encouraged the prince in his determination. "violette," said the prince, at last, "since you absolutely refuse to ascend the throne with me, i abandon it and all royal power in order to live with you as before in solitude and happiness. without your sweet presence, the sceptre would be a heavy burden; with you at my side, our little farm will be a paradise! say, dear violette, shall it be so?" "yes, dear brother, you have triumphed; let us live as we have lived so many years: modest in our lives, happy in our affections." "noble prince and generous princess," said the fairy, "you shall be recompensed for this rare and devoted tenderness. prince, in the well to which i carried you during the fire, there is a priceless treasure for violette and yourself. descend into the well, seek for it, and when you have found it bring it to me. i will teach you its value." the prince did not wait to be told a second time; he ran towards the well; the ladder was still there and he descended. on arriving at the bottom, he saw nothing but the carpet which had been there from the first; he searched the walls of the well, but saw no indication of treasure. finally he raised the carpet, and perceived a black stone with a ring attached; he raised the stone and discovered a casket which glittered like a constellation. "this must contain the treasure spoken of by the fairy," said he. the prince seized the casket; it was as light as a nutshell. he ascended the ladder hastily, holding the casket carefully in his arms. they were awaiting his return with impatience. he handed the casket to the fairy. agnella exclaimed:-"this is the same casket you confided to me, madam, and which i supposed i had lost in the fire." "it is the same," replied the fairy. "here is the key; open it, prince." prince marvellous hastened to open it. but who can describe the general disappointment, when, in place of some rich treasure which they supposed it contained, they found only the bracelets which violette had worn when her cousin found her sleeping in the wood, and a vial of perfumed oil! the fairy looked from one to the other, and enjoyed their surprise and consternation. she took the bracelets and gave them to violette. "this is my bridal present, my dear child; every one of these diamonds has the property of guarding from all evil influences the person who wears it, and of endowing its wearer with every virtue, enormous riches and resplendent beauty, with wit, intellect and all desirable happiness. use them for the children who will be born of your union with prince marvellous. "as to this vial of perfumed oil, it is the wedding gift of the prince your cousin. i know you love perfumes, this has peculiar virtues; use it to-day. to-morrow i will return to seek you and carry you all to your kingdom," she said. "i renounce my kingdom, madam," said ourson. "who will govern your people?" said agnella. "you, my mother, if you are willing," replied ourson. the queen was about to refuse, when the fairy interfered. "we will speak of this to-morrow," said she. "you, madam, i know, desire to accept the crown which you are about to refuse. i forbid you, however, to accept it before my return. and you, dear and amiable prince," added she, in a sweet voice, accompanied with an affectionate glance, "i forbid you to repeat this offer before my return. adieu till to-morrow. when you are truly happy, my dear children, think kindly of your friend the fairy drolette." the fairy ascended her chariot. the larks flew like lightning and she soon disappeared, leaving behind her a delicious perfume. the recompense prince marvellous looked at violette and sighed heavily; violette gazed at the prince and smiled sweetly. "how handsome you are, my dear cousin! i am so happy to have it in my power to restore you your beauty. and now i will pour some of this perfumed oil upon my hands; since i cannot please your eye, i will at least embalm you," said she, laughing. she uncorked the vial, and entreated marvellous to sprinkle some drops on her forehead and cheeks. the heart of the prince was too full for words. he took the vial and obeyed the order of his cousin. their surprise and joy were indescribable on seeing that as soon as the oil touched violette's forehead the hair disappeared and her skin resumed its original purity and dazzling whiteness. the prince and violette, on seeing the virtue of this wonderful oil, uttered loud cries of delight and ran towards the stable where they saw agnella and passerose. they called their attention to the happy effect of this perfumed oil given them by the fairy. both joined in their happiness. the prince could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. and now nothing could prevent his union with violette, so good, so devoted, so tender, so lovely, so well constituted to make him supremely happy. the queen thought of the morrow--of her return to her kingdom, which she had abandoned twenty years ago. she wished that she herself, that violette, that her son the prince had clothing worthy of so great an occasion but, alas! she had neither the time nor the means to procure them: they would therefore be compelled to wear their coarse clothing, and thus show themselves to their people. violette and marvellous laughed at this distress of their mother. "do you not think, mamma," said violette, "that our dear prince is sufficiently adorned with his rare beauty and that a rich and royal robe would not make him more beautiful or more amiable?" "and do you not agree with me, my dear mother," said marvellous, "in thinking that our dear violette is lovely enough in the simplest clothing, that the lustre of her eyes surpasses the most brilliant diamonds, that the clear whiteness of her teeth rivals successfully the rarest pearls, that the richness of her blonde hair surpasses a crown of brilliants?" "yes, yes, my children," replied agnella, "without doubt, you are both of you handsome and attractive but a rich dress spoils nothing, not even beauty. jewels, embroidery and heavy brocades would detract nothing from your charms. and i who am old----" "but not ugly, madam," interrupted passerose, hastily. "you are still amiable and handsome, in spite of your little country cap, your skirts of coarse striped cloth, your waist of red camlet and your stomacher of simple cloth. besides, when you return to your kingdom, you can buy every kind of dress your heart desires." the evening passed away gayly and there seemed no anxiety about the future. the fairy had provided their supper; they passed the night on the bundles of hay in the stable and as they were all fatigued by the emotions of the day they slept profoundly. the sun had been shining a long time and the fairy drolette was with them, before they awoke. a soft "hem! hem!" of the fairy aroused them. the prince was the first to open his eyes; he threw himself on his knees before the fairy and thanked her with such warmth and gratitude that her heart was touched. violette was on her knees by his side and joining her thanks to those of the prince. "i do not doubt your gratitude, dear children," said the fairy; "but i have much to do. i am expected in the kingdom of the king benin where i am to attend at the birth of the third son of the princess blondine. this prince is to be the husband of your first daughter, prince marvellous, and i am resolved to endow him with all the qualities which will obtain for him the warm love of your daughter. and now i must conduct you to your kingdom; i will return in time to be present at your wedding. queen," she continued, turning to aimee, who was now just opening her eyes, "we are about to set out immediately for your son's kingdom. are you and your faithful passerose ready for the journey?" "madam," replied the queen, with a slight embarrassment, "we are ready to follow you but will you not blush for our dress, so little worthy of our rank?" "it is not i who will blush, queen," said the fairy, smiling, "but rather yourself who have this sensation of shame. but i will remedy this evil also." saying this, she described a circle with her wand above the head of the queen, who in the same moment found herself clothed in a robe of gold brocade. upon her head was a hat with splendid plumes, fastened with a band of superb diamonds and her boots were of velvet, spangled with gold. aimee looked at her robe with an air of complaisance. "and violette and my son the prince, will you not extend your goodness to them also?" "violette and the prince have asked for nothing. i will do as they wish. speak, violette, do you desire to change your costume?" "madam," replied violette, casting down her sweet eyes and blushing, "i have been sufficiently happy in this robe of simple cloth. in this costume my brother knew me and loved me. permit me to continue to wear it as far as regard for my station allows and allow me to preserve it always in remembrance of the happy years of my childhood." the prince thanked violette for these sweet words, and pressed her hand tenderly. the fairy kindly nodded her approval and called for her chariot, which was waiting a few steps from them. she entered and placed the queen next herself, then the prince, violette and passerose. in less than an hour the larks had flown over the three thousand leagues which separated them from the kingdom of prince marvellous. all his court and all his subjects, apprised beforehand by the fairy, expected him. the streets and the palaces were filled by the eager, happy crowd. when the chariot appeared in sight, the people uttered cries of joy which were redoubled when it drew up before the great entrance of the palace, when they saw descend queen aimee, a little older, no doubt, but still pretty and gracious, and the prince marvellous, whose natural beauty and grace were enhanced by the splendor of his clothing, glittering with gold and precious stones, which were also a present from the fairy. but the acclamations arose to frenzy when the prince, taking violette by the hand, presented her to the people. her sweet, attractive countenance, her superb and elegant form, were adorned with a dress with which the fairy had clothed her by one stroke of her wand. her robe was of gold lace, while her waist, her arms and shoulders shone with innumerable larks formed of diamonds larger than humming-birds. on her graceful head she wore a crown of larks made of precious stones of all colors. her countenance, soft but gay, her grace, her beauty, won the hearts of all. for a long time nothing was heard but shouts of "long live king marvellous! long live queen violette!" the noise and tumult were so great that many persons became deaf. the good fairy, who desired that only joy and happiness should prevail throughout the kingdom on this auspicious day, cured them instantly at the request of violette. there was a magnificent feast spread for the court and the people. a million, three hundred and forty-six thousand, eight hundred and twenty-two persons dined at the expense of the fairy and each guest was permitted to carry away enough for eight days. during the repast the fairy set off for the kingdom of king benin, promising to return in time for the wedding of marvellous and violette. during the eight days of the fairy's absence marvellous, who saw that his mother was a little sad at not being queen, entreated her earnestly to accept violette's kingdom and she consented to reign there on condition that king marvellous and queen violette would come every year and pass three months with her. queen aimee, before parting with her children, wished to witness their marriage. the fairy drolette and many other fairies of her acquaintance and many genii were invited to the marriage. they all received the most magnificent presents, and were so satisfied with the welcome given them by king marvellous and queen violette that they graciously promised to return whenever they were invited. two years afterwards they received an invitation to be present at the birth of the first child of king marvellous. there came to queen violette a daughter, who, like her mother, was a marvel of goodness and beauty. the king and queen could not fulfil the promise they had made to queen aimee. one of the genii who had been invited to the wedding of marvellous and violette, found in queen aimee so much of goodness, sweetness, and beauty, that he loved her, and, visiting her several times in her new kingdom and being affectionately and graciously received by her, he carried her off one day in a whirlwind. queen aimee wept for a while but as she loved the genius she was not inconsolable; indeed, she promptly consented to wed him. the king of the genii granted to her as a wedding present the power of participating in all the privileges of her husband: never to die, never to grow old and the ability to transport herself in the twinkling of an eye wherever she wished to go. aimee used this power very often to visit her son and his children. king marvellous and queen violette had eight sons and four daughters and they were all charming. they were happy, without doubt, for they loved each other tenderly and their grandmother, who, it was said spoiled them a little induced their grandfather, the genius bienveillant, to contribute all in his power to their happiness. consequently, they received many rich gifts. passerose, who was warmly attached to queen aimee, had followed her into her new kingdom but when the genius carried her off in a whirlwind, passerose, seeing herself forgotten and not being able to follow her mistress was so sad in the loneliness caused by the departure of aimee, that she prayed the fairy drolette to transport her to the kingdom of king marvellous and queen violette. she remained with them and took care of their children to whom she often recounted the adventures of ourson and violette. she still remains, it is said, though the genius and his queen have made her many excuses for not having carried her off in the whirlwind. "no, no," passerose replied to all these explanations; "let us remain as we are. you forgot me once--you might forget me another time. here, my dear ourson and my sweet violette never forget their old nurse. i love them and i will remain with them. they loved me and they will take care of me." the farmer, the superintendent, and the master of the forge who had been so cruel to ourson were severely punished by the fairy drolette. the farmer was devoured by a bear, some hours after he had chased away ourson. the superintendent was dismissed by his master for having let loose the dogs, who escaped and never could be found. the same night he was bitten by a venomous serpent and expired some moments afterwards. the master of the forge having reprimanded his workmen too brutally, they resolved upon vengeance: seized him and cast him into the blazing furnace where he perished miserably. 