Once upon a time there was an old widow woman who had three sons: the
first two were clever enough, but the third, Bobo by name, was little
better than a silly simpleton. All his mother's scoldings and
beatings--and she smacked the poor lad soundly a dozen times a day--did
him no good whatever.
Now it came to pass that one morning Princess Zenza, the ruler of the
land, happened to pass by the cottage and heard Bobo being given a
terrible tongue-lashing. Curious as to the cause of all the noise, the
Princess drew rein, and summoned Bobo's mother to come near. On hearing
her story, it occurred to the Princess that so silly a lad might amuse
her; so she gave the mother a golden florin, and took poor silly Bobo
with her to be her page.
[Illustration: In the background, a castle; in the middle ground, a boy
throwing a spiny object into a dragon's mouth; in the foreground, a
frightened girl.]
Just as the dragon's mouth was at, its widest ....
You may be sure that it did not take the wise folk at the castle long to
discover how great a simpleton had arrived. Courtiers, footmen, lackeys,
turnspits even, were forever sending him off on ridiculous errands. Now
he would be sent to find a white craw's feather or a spray of yellow
bluebells; now he was ordered to look for a square wheel or a glass of
dry water. Everybody laughed at him and made fun of him--that is,
everybody except little Tilda, the kitchen-maid. When poor Bobo used to
return from some wild-goose chase, tired out, mud-stained, and often
enough wet to the skin, instead of laughing, little Tilda would find him
a glass of warm milk, hang his coat by the fire to dry, and tell him not
to be such a simpleton again. Thus, after a while, Bobo learned to ask
Tilda's advice before going away on a wild-goose chase, and was in this
way saved from many a jest.
Tilda, the kitchen-maid, was as sweet and pretty as she was kind and
good. She was said to be the daughter of an old crane who had come to
the castle one day, asking for help.
One pleasant mid-summer morning, when Bobo had been nearly a year at the
castle, Princess Zenza overslept half an hour and did not come down to
breakfast at the usual time. When she did get up, she found her court
waiting for her in the castle gardens. As she came down the steps of the
garden terrace, the Princess looked up at the castle clock to see how
late she was, and said to her lady in waiting,--
"Dear me--why, I've lost half an hour this morning!"
At these words, Bobo, who was in attendance, pricked up his ears and
said,--
"Please, Your Highness, perhaps I can find it."
At this idea of finding a lost half-hour, the Princess laughed, and
found herself echoed by the company.
"Shall we send Bobo in search of the lost half-hour?" said the Princess
to the courtiers.
"Yes! Yes!" cried the courtiers. "Bobo shall look for the lost
half-hour."
"I'll give him a horse," said one. "I'll give him my old hat," said
another. "He can have an old sword I broke last week," said still
another.
And so, in less time than it takes to tell about it, poor simpleton Bobo
was made ready for his journey.
Before he left the castle, Bobo went down to the kitchen to say good-bye
to Tilda.
"What, off again?" said the little kitchen-maid. "Where are you going
now?"
"The Princess has lost a half-hour and I am going in search of it," said
Bobo, proudly. And he told how the Princess herself had commanded him to
seek the half-hour through the world, and promised to bring Tilda a
splendid present when he returned.
The good kitchen-maid said little, for she feared lest some misadventure
overtake the poor simpleton; but when the chief cook was not looking,
she tucked a fresh currant-bun into Bobo's pocket, and wished him the
best of good fortune.
So Bobo went to the castle gate, and mounted his horse, which stumbled
and was blind in one eye.
"Good-bye, Bobo," cried the assembled courtiers, who were almost beside
themselves with laughter at the simpleton and his errand. "Don't fail to
bring back the lost half-hour!"
So Bobo rode over the hills and far away. Every now and then he would
stop a passer-by and ask him if he had seen a lost half-hour.
The first person whom he thus questioned was an old man who was
wandering down the high road that leads from the Kingdom of the East to
the Kingdom of the West.
"A lost half-hour?" said the old man. "I've lost something much more
serious, I've lost my reputation. You have n't seen a lost reputation
lying about here, have you? It was very dignified and wore
tortoise-shell glasses."
But Bobo had to answer "No," and the old man wandered on again.
Another day the simpleton encountered a tall, dark, fierce kind of
fellow, who answered his polite question with a scream of rage.
"A half-hour," he roared. "No, I have n't seen your half-hour; I would
n't tell you if I had; what's more, I don't want to see it. I'm looking
for something I've lost myself. I've lost my temper. I lost it two years
ago at home, and have n't been able to find it anywhere since. Answer
me, you silly, have you seen a lost temper anywhere? It's about the size
of a large melon and has sharp little points."
On Bobo's answering "No," this dreadful person uttered so perfectly
awful a screech of rage, that Bobo's horse took fright and ran away with
him, and it was all that Bobo could do to rein him in three miles
farther down the road.
Still farther along, Bobo came to Zizz, the capital city of the Kingdom
of the Seven Brooks, and was taken before the King himself.
"A lost half-hour?" said the King. "No, I am quite sure it has not been
seen in my dominions. Would you mind asking, as you go through the
world, for news of my little daughter?" (Here the poor old King took out
a great green handkerchief and wiped his eyes.) "She was stolen by the
fairies on midsummer eve fifteen years ago. Find her, worthy Bobo, and
an immense reward will be yours."
So Bobo left the proud city of Zizz, and once again rode over the hills
and far away. But never a sign of the lost half-hour did he find,
although he asked thousands of people. His faithful white horse died,
and he continued his way on foot.
Three long years passed, and Bobo grew into a handsome lad, but remained
a simpleton still. Finally, after he had wandered all about Fairyland,
he came to the edge of the sea. Finding a ship moored in a little
harbor, Bobo asked the sailors if they had seen a lost half-hour.
"No," said the sailors, "but we are going to the Isles of Iron;
suppose you go with us. The lost half-hour may be there."
So Bobo went aboard the ship, and sailed out upon the dark sea.
For two days the weather was warm and clear, but on the third day, there
came a dreadful storm, and on the third night the vessel was driven far
off her course into the unknown ocean, and was wrecked upon a mysterious
island of rocks that shone in the night like wet matches. A great wave
swept the decks, and Bobo was borne away from his companions and carried
toward the shining land. Though pounded and battered by the foaming
waves, the simpleton at length managed to reach the beach, and took
refuge in a crevice of the cliff during the stormy night.
When the dawn broke, all sign of the ship had disappeared. Looking
about, Bobo found himself on a lovely island whose heart was a high
mountain mass hidden in the fog still sweeping in from the sea. There
was not a house, a road, or a path to be seen. Suddenly Bobo noticed a
strange little door in the bark of a great lonely tree, and, opening
this door, he discovered a little cupboard in which were a pair of
wooden shoes. Above the shoes was a card, saying simply,--