JOCK O’ THE PIPES.
One summer afternoon the Talking Chair told the following story to Aunt
Polly, who told it to Dorothy, who told it to me:--
Once upon a time in a bright country lived the most beautiful little
queen in all the world. She was called Content, and while she reigned,
there was great happiness among her people.
Indeed, they were so very happy that a certain wicked old woman who
rides through the air on a broomstick grew very jealous.
She did not like to see anybody happy, so she began to plot and plan a
way to get rid of Queen Content.
“If I could only drive her out of the hearts of these simple people
all would be well,” said the old woman. Then she went about among the
people doing all sorts of mischief; telling stories, spoiling their
lovely gardens, and predicting all kinds of misfortune. But in spite
of all her evil doings the people cherished Queen Content, and they
scarcely noticed the wicked old woman.
At last she grew very angry. She took her old broom and swept great
clouds of dust that filled the good people’s eyes, so that they could
not see clearly at all. Then they became dissatisfied, and one day they
sent their beautiful Queen away and put another in her place.
The new queen began her reign with a great flourish of trumpets. She
was not beautiful at all, and was called Queen Discord.
She found fault with everything and was never at rest. Costly
festivals, cruel wars, and foolish undertakings were all the time going
on, and the people became poorer and more unhappy every day.
When the old woman on the broomstick saw this state of affairs, she
laughed long and loud, and sailed away to do mischief elsewhere.
In the meantime Queen Content had moved into a small cottage on the
outskirts of the village. It contained only two rooms, but in the
lovely Queen’s eyes it was as dear as any palace. The beautiful flower
fields were her gardens and she rejoiced in the still walks of the
green woods.
Sometimes rumors reached her of the doings of Queen Discord, but they
never disturbed her peace of mind.
One dark night a traveler knocked at Queen Content’s door. He was a
rollicking, roving merry lad, and his name was Jock.
When Queen Content opened the door Jock made a low bow, saying, “I have
traveled far and am weary; may I enter your cottage?”
“Whoever knocks at my door may find rest. Enter and welcome,” was the
answer.
Jock entered and Queen Content gave him a good supper. It was only
bread and milk, to be sure, but no dainties at the table of a king
ever tasted better. And although the bed that Jock slept on was made
of straw, he had never rested so well in his life.
The next morning Jock continued his journey to the village. He had not
been there very long when he discovered the true state of affairs.
He realized that the foolish people had put away the most beautiful
queen in the world for the most disagreeable.
“I’m going to help these foolish people,” said Jock to himself, and he
shook all over with merriment at the mere thought of doing them a good
turn.
Straight he went to the palace of Queen Discord and begged an audience
with her most obnoxious majesty.
“What do you want, good-for-nothing?” said the haughty Queen, frowning
on Jock, who stood cap in hand with a quizzical look on his merry face.
“I have good news for your majesty,” said Jock with a grin.
“Good news!” thundered the horrid queen.
“It is against our laws. You shall be thrown into prison; we don’t want
people who go about telling good news.”
Jock’s grin broadened, but he saw his mistake and quickly added: “Ah!
your majesty, I have just traveled through your uncle’s kingdom--King
Hate--and I found nothing there but strife and confusion and bitterness
of spirit. Your people are so much happier that I was only going to
remind you of the fact. Surely that is good news.”
When Jock made this little speech the Queen’s eyes (they were great,
green jealous eyes) flashed, but she was silent for a moment.
“Strife, confusion, and bitterness of spirit.” The words were sweet as
honey to Queen Discord’s taste, and she repeated them over and over
to herself. They are just what I want, thought the queen, and she
regarded Jock with great interest, saying:
“Tell me how to stir up strife, confusion and bitterness of spirit in
this old kingdom and your reward shall be great.”
“I know that it will,” thought Jock grinning all over. Aloud he said,
“Give me three days and I’ll return with something that will surely
please your most sea-green majesty.”
So saying he almost doubled in two with laughter, and tossing his
bright cap into the air, left the presence of the frowning queen.
Straight to the heart of the merry green woods ran Jock. He played
leap-frog with elves and danced with wood-nymphs. They all loved him
because he was so merry, and he feared no one because his heart was
innocent as that of a little child.
By and by Jock told about his conversation with Queen Discord, and when
he had finished such a merry shout went up from every elf, wood-nymph
and fairy that the very leaves shook and an acorn fell to the ground.
“Now you must help me,” said Jock; “you must tell me, good friends,
what to do.”
“’Tis the pipes, ’tis the pipes that you want,” said a jolly elf, “that
is the remedy for Queen Discord.”
Then they all whispered something in Jock’s ear, which made him shake
all over with mirth. Every elf, wood-nymph and fairy had a little
secret for him, and they told it so softly that even a gray squirrel
who listened with all his might could not hear.
When they had told the secret they were merrier than ever. They all
took hands and with Jock in the middle, danced a jolly ring around him.
“Jock o’ the pipes, Jock o’ the pipes,” sang the merry elves, as they
tripped round and round, stopping now and then to whisper some new
idea. Jock laughed himself to sleep. Then the fairies left him.
When Jock awoke, he rubbed his eyes and looked around him. His late
adventure was still fresh in his mind and he laughed aloud. Just then
he spied a small bag made of skin, on the ground at his feet.
“I know what that is for,” said Jock with a broad grin. He recalled the
secrets that the merry elves had whispered.
Jock slung the bag across his shoulder and away he ran out of the woods
with peals of laughter waiting on his steps.
He traveled fast and at moonlight stood near a fence in a big city
laughing softly to himself.
Suddenly strange sounds filled the still air.
Jock looked up and beheld a band of cats on the fence. At first he
thought they were merely giving a concert to the good people of the
neighborhood, but very soon he saw his mistake.
As he looked they began to slap each other right in the face, with
uplifted paws and spat at each other with angry jaws. Suddenly a
battered, yellow, one-eyed, tailless Tommy got his back up about
something and cried like a baby. His granddaughter rebuked him with a
gentle scratch. Then there was a rush, and instead of thirty-two cats
in a line there were thirty-two cats in a ball. And it wasn’t football
either.
There were howls, shrieks, moans, and cat-calls. In the very midst of
it all Jock opened his bag.
In the twinkling of an eye the fighting cats dropped into the bag,
which shut up tight again, and Jock continued his journey.
But he was laughing so hard that he had to stand a moment to recover
himself.
A little farther on he heard loud barking.
“’Tis the watch-dog’s honest bark,” quoted Jock; but just then he heard
a terrible uproar and he realized his mistake.
He came upon a crowd of snapping, snarling, barking curs. He listened
to their disputes for three minutes. “Ha-a, now I see,” said Jock with
a chuckle; “these dogs, that I supposed were honest watch-dogs, are all
politicians. ’Tis a meeting of their common council.”
Just then the chairman gave a fierce bark, whereupon all the others
howled in concert and made a spring for the chairman’s collar. When the
dismal yells were at the very worst Jock opened his bag. In a second
every barking, snapping, snarling dog went head first into it. Not
another sound out of them. Jock laughed heartily and hurried on.
You must not forget, little reader, that it was a fairy bag, and no
matter how much went into it, it did not get an inch larger or an ounce
heavier. In his path Jock met many other occupants for his bag. A
scolding wife, a grouty husband, a croaking gossip all found their way
into the wonderful bag, and after each addition Jock was merrier than
ever.
He passed a church and heard music.
“That’s in my line,” said Jock with a grin, and he stole softly into
the choir. The female soprano had the floor and the ceiling too, while
a long-suffering congregation tried not to look grieved.
Just as she reached a top note with a shivering little curleycue
attached, Jock saw a nervous brother clutch his seat and a sympathetic
sister gasp. That note had been issued just thirty-seven years and Jock
had come to collect it. The little bag opened and plumb into it went
the shrieking soprano.
It was several minutes before Jock recovered from the fit of merriment
that followed the last disappearance. Then he went on.
In the meantime he bagged the piano next door, the cornet across the
street, the concertina up-stairs and a few other simple but effective
species, including, “dot leetle German band.”
“It is useless, I cannot go another step until I have had my laugh
out,” said Jock as he sat himself down on the steps of a great building
and shook all over for a good ten minutes.
In the midst of his hilarity, he heard a voice. It jarred him. “That’s
a school marm addressing her pupils,” quoth Jock. For a second he made
a wry face, then his eyes twinkled, and he arose and stole into the
school-room, hiding behind a great globe.
The teacher had forgotten how to talk in natural tones and was yelling
in an A sharp and D flat voice.
“The poor children,” sighed Jock, looking serious for one second. Then
he grinned, opened the bag and the unnatural tones vanished right into
it.
Continuing his journey he caught “Annie Ould R-r-rags” and all her
relations.
Suddenly Jock found himself in a western city and was delighted to hear
that a meeting of birds was in progress, for the elation and elevation
of their sex (they were all ladies, by the way). Jock loved the ladies,
so he stole softly in to their meeting. But oh, what a shock did little
Jock get! The birds were having a terrible battle with their tongues
and Jock was so surprised that he even forgot about his bag.
It was all on account of a poor little bird who wanted to attend the
meeting and would not be permitted to. And why? Because she was black
and the other birds were white (outside).
“But I thought this meeting was good of _all_ birds,” ventured one
fair-minded little creature. Whereupon there was a storm of wrath and
scorn. This brought Jock to his senses. Cautious, as a good fisherman,
for birds have wings, Jock opened his bag, and every unjust, discordant
vibration was swallowed up.
“I’m a bit weary now,” said Jock with a chuckle, “so I’ll return
without looking farther.”
So saying, he hurried along and stopped up his ears, so that he would
not hear any more discord.
That night Jock slept in the merry green woods with the fairy bag for a
pillow.
The elves came when he was dreaming and examined the contents of the
bag.
“It will do very well,” said a jolly elf, and he attached two tiny
pipes to the top of Jock’s bag.
The elves reveled all night and whispered new secrets in Jock’s ear.
When the first streak of dawn came through the trees they hurried away
to fairyland, but not before the jolly elf dropped a small chain at
Jock’s feet.
Bright and smiling Jock awoke.
“It is the third day,” sang Jock as he washed his merry face in a
buttercup of dew.
“Now I must hurry to the Castle,” said he, stooping to pick up his bag.
All at once he noticed the pipes, which made him shake all over with
mirth.
“It looks for all the world like bagpipes now,” cried Jock, “and maybe
it is a new kind.”
Then he spied the chain, which he slipped into his pocket.
“O that jolly elf, he never forgets anything,” said Jock, and just then
some merry recollection of the jolly elf flashed into Jock’s mind and
he rolled over and over with laughter.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet, took up his pipes and was soon out of
the woods.
When he reached the castle he found Queen Discord on her throne,
surrounded by a host of unwilling followers.
Jock approached the throne, bowed low and said: “’Tis the pipes, ’tis
the pipes that you want. That is the remedy for Queen Discord.” So
saying he slipped the chain out of his pocket and presented it to the
Queen, who immediately fastened it around her neck. Quick as a flash
Jock’s deft fingers attached the chain to the pipes.
Queen Discord arose from her throne and began to speak. But horrors!
no sooner did she open her mouth than the pipes began to play--and you
know what was in that bag. The most awful, horrid, harsh, discordant
sounds rent the air and the people fled in terror.
When Queen Discord saw the effect of the pipes, she tried to pull them
off. But they were fastened around her neck by a fairy chain and no
mortal power could remove them. She hurried from the throne and ran out
of the castle, the awful pipes playing all the time.
Women and children ran from her in horror, but a crowd of angry men
with sticks and stones chased her out of the village.
On and on ran Queen Discord, making nature groan with her horrid pipes.
At last she was out of hearing and the people never saw her again. In a
few days they restored beautiful Queen Content and were once more happy.
One summer evening many years later a traveler came to Queen Content’s
country. He had traveled far and was weary, but he stopped to listen to
the most beautiful music he had ever heard.
It was Queen Content’s Symphony Orchestra playing on the Green.
Do you know, little reader, what a symphony orchestra is? No? Then
ask papa and mamma. If you live in Boston they will tell you about
delightful Saturday evenings in winter, when they go to a concert. Or
better still ask big sister. Watch her face light up as she tells you
about “dreamy” Friday afternoons; her “magnificent” conductor, the
“perfectly exquisite” first violin, etc., etc.
The adjectives are big sister’s--not mine.
Well, dear, in Queen Content’s country, love was the leader of the
symphony orchestra, and he was assisted by faith, hope, peace,
industry, thrift, health and many other players.
The traveler watched a band of laughing children on the green and the
sounds of the beautiful orchestra gladdened his ears.
He closed his tired eyes and fell asleep. Queen Content found the
traveler on her way and kissed his bonny face. It was Jock o’ the
Pipes.