matters were getting to be very serious indeed, an old man appeared in
the palace park leading a beautiful white cow with jet black ears and
golden horns. The servants set up such a shout when they saw the
beautiful cow that everybody in the palace was aroused and all came out
to see what caused the noise. Then the servants and attendants ran over
one another in their efforts to reach the Prince, who was moping in his
room. As they ran they cried:—
“‘The Cow with the Golden Horns has come! The Cow with the Golden Horns
has come!’
“The Prince forgot his dignity and hurried out to see the Cow with the
Golden Horns. The old man came leading her, and she was, indeed, a
beautiful creature. Her head and limbs were almost as delicate as those
of a deer, and her eyes were large and soft. Her body was as white as
snow, her ears glistened like black silk, and her golden horns shone in
the sun. The old man bowed low as he led the beautiful cow forward.
“‘I wouldn’t make much of a bride myself, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I
have brought you the Cow with the Golden Horns. She might find you the
bride that I failed to bring you.’
“‘I fear I shall have no such good fortune,’ replied the Prince. ‘But I
think you have proved to me that I am not dreaming. How shall I reward
you?’
“‘I ask no reward, your Majesty. I only ask the privilege of taking away
my Cow with the Golden Horns when you have found your bride.’
“When the Prince had given his promise, the old man said, ‘You have a
ring, your Majesty, that came to you in a curious way. Let this ring be
placed on the left horn of the cow. The girl or woman that is able to
remove this ring will be the bride you are wishing for. Every morning
the Cow with the Golden Horns will appear here in the lawn and remain
until night falls. Let it be announced, your Majesty, that whoever takes
the ring from her shall be the Princess of the Realm.’”
“Huh!” exclaimed Drusilla suddenly. “He talk like he been ter college.”
“Will you hush?” cried Buster John. But Mr. Thimblefinger paid no
attention to the interruption.
“‘But how do you know,’ asked the Prince, ‘that the right one will come
to get the ring?’
“‘How do I know that your Majesty has the ring?’ the old man answered.
“This seemed to satisfy the Prince, who caused it to be announced all
through his kingdom that he would choose for his bride the girl or woman
who would take the ring from the golden horn of the Cow.
“Of course there was a great commotion among the ladies when this
announcement was made, and nearly all of them tried to take the ring
from the golden horn of the Cow. Some said they tried it just for fun,
and some said they tried it just out of curiosity; but all of them
failed. Even Eolen’s stepmother tried, and then she made her daughter
try, but when the daughter touched the ring it burnt her so that she
screamed. And then some of those who had tried and failed turned up
their noses and said it was a trick.
“Eolen had never thought of trying. She had seen the Prince and admired
him, yet she had no idea of going up before all these people. But as
soon as her stepmother started for the palace with her daughter, there
came a knock at the door. Eolen opened it, and there, standing before
her, was the old man who had carried her to the Thunder’s house, and to
the Jumping-Off Place. She was very glad to see him, and told him so,
and he was just as glad to see her.
“‘Why don’t you go and get your ring?’ he asked.
“‘It is lost,’ she answered.
“‘It is found,’ he said. ‘I have placed it on the golden horn of the Cow
that stands near the palace door. You must go and get it.’
“‘I have nothing to wear,’ she replied.
“Then the old man tapped on the wall and called:—
“‘Sister Jane! Sister Jane! Where are you?’
“‘I am where I ought to be,’ was the reply. The wall opened and out
stepped the old, old woman that Eolen had seen combing her hair by the
Well at the End of the World.
“‘Clothe this child in silk and satin and comb her hair out fine, Sister
Jane.’
“The old woman grumbled a little, but gave Eolen a touch here and there,
and in a moment she was dressed as fine as the finest lady in the land.
“‘Now she is ready, brother,’ said the old, old woman, and then she
disappeared in the wall, combing her long gray hair and smiling.
“‘Must I walk?’ asked Eolen, looking at her satin slippers.
“‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed the old man. Then he tapped in another part of
the wall. ‘Nephew! Nephew! Where are you?’
“‘Wherever you wish me to be,’ a voice replied, and then the wall
opened, and out stepped the handsome stranger who had given Eolen the
gold ring. ‘What do you want?’
“‘A carriage and horses,’ said the old man.
“‘They are at the door,’ was the reply, ‘and I’ll drive them myself.’
“Sure enough, there stood at the door a coach and four, and Eolen was
carried to the palace in grand style. Liveried servants appeared and
spread a strip of carpet before her, and the Cow with the Golden Horns
came running to meet her, and in a moment she had the ring. Then the
people set up a loud shout, crying:—
“‘The Princess! the Princess!’
[Illustration:
SHE WOULD HAVE KNELT, BUT HE LIFTED HER UP
]
“And then the Prince came out and went to her. She would have knelt, but
he lifted her up and knelt himself before her, and kissed her hand, and
smiled on her, for she was the lovely girl he had seen in the picture.”
“What is the moral of that?” inquired Mr. Rabbit, waking from his nap.
“Why, you didn’t even hear the story,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.
“That is the reason I want to hear the moral of it,” remarked Mr.
Rabbit.
“There is no moral at all,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.
“Then I’m mighty glad I was asleep,” grumbled Mr. Rabbit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
VIII.
BROTHER WOLF’S TWO BIG DINNERS.
The children said they were very much pleased with the story about the
Cow with the Golden Horns. Buster John even went so far as to say that
it was as good as some of the stories in the books. But Mr.
Thimblefinger shook his head. He said he was very glad they were pleased
with it, but he knew Mr. Rabbit was right. The story couldn’t be a very
good story, because it had no moral.
“But I think it had a very good moral,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.
“What was it?” inquired Mr. Rabbit with great solemnity.
“Why, if the little girl had been too stingy to give the old beggar a
piece of her cake, she would never have come to be Princess,” replied
Mrs. Meadows.
“Did she give the beggar a piece of cake?” asked Mr. Rabbit.
“Why, certainly she did,” Mr. Thimblefinger answered.
“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, setting himself back in his chair, “I must
have been fast asleep when she did it. But the place for a moral, as
I’ve been told, is right at the end of a story, and not at the
beginning.”
“Can’t you tell us a story with a moral?” suggested Mrs. Meadows.
“I can,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I can for a fact, and the piece of cake
you mentioned puts me in mind of it.”
Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes and rubbed his nose, and then began:—
“Once upon a time, when Brother Fox and myself were living on pretty
good terms with each other, we received an invitation to attend a
barbecue that Brother Wolf was going to give on the following Saturday.
The next day we received an invitation to a barbecue that Brother Bear
was going to give on the same Saturday.
“I made up my mind at once to go to Brother Bear’s barbecue, because I
knew he would have fresh roasting ears, and if there’s anything I like
better than another, it is fresh roasting ears. I asked Brother Fox
whether he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue or to Brother Wolf’s,
but he shook his head. He said he hadn’t made up his mind. I just asked
him out of idle curiosity, for I didn’t care whether he went or whether
he stayed.
“I went about my work as usual. Cold weather was coming on, and I wanted
to get my crops in before the big freeze came. But I noticed that
Brother Fox was mighty restless in his mind. He didn’t do a stroke of
work. He’d sit down and then he’d get up; he’d stand still and look up
in the tops of the trees, and then he’d walk back and forth with his
hands behind him and look down at the ground.
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope you are not sick, Brother Fox.’
“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit; I never felt better in my life.’
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope money matters are not troubling you.’
“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit, money was never easier with me than
it is this season.’
“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope I’ll have the pleasure of your company
to the barbecue to-morrow.’
“Says he, ‘I can’t tell, Brother Rabbit; I can’t tell. I haven’t made up
my mind. I may go to the one, or I may go to the other; but which it
will be, I can’t tell you to save my life.’
“As the next day was Saturday, I was up bright and early. I dug my
goobers and spread ’em out to dry in the sun, and then, ten o’clock, as
near as I could judge, I started out to the barbecue. Brother Wolf lived
near the river, and Brother Bear lived right on the river, a mile or two
below Brother Wolf’s. The big road, that passed near where Brother Fox
and I lived, led in the direction of the river for about three miles,
and then it forked, one prong going to Brother Wolf’s house, and the
other prong going to Brother Bear’s house.
“Well, when I came to the forks of the road, who should I see there but
old Brother Fox. I stopped before he saw me, and watched him. He went a
little way down one road, and licked his chops; then he came back and
went a little way down the other road, and licked his chops.
“Not choosing to be late, I showed myself and passed the time of day
with Brother Fox. I said, says I, that if he was going to Brother Bear’s
barbecue, I’d be glad to have his company. But he said, says he, that he
wouldn’t keep me waiting. He had just come down to the forks of the road
to see if that would help him to make up his mind. I told him I was
mighty sorry to miss his company and his conversation, and then I tipped
my hat and took my cane from under my arm and went down the road that
led to Brother Bear’s house.”
Here Mr. Rabbit paused, straightened himself up a little, and looked at
the children. Then he continued:—
“I reckon you all never stood on the top of a hill three quarters of a
mile from the smoking pits and got a whiff or two of the barbecue?”
“I is! I is!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Don’t talk! Hit make me dribble at de
mouf. I wish I had some right now.”
[Illustration:
HE WENT A LITTLE WAY DOWN ONE ROAD
]
“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, “I got a whiff of it and I was truly glad I had
come—truly glad. It was a fine barbecue, too. There was lamb, and kid,
and shote, all cooked to a turn and well seasoned, and then there was
the hash made out of the giblets. I’ll not tell you any more about the
dinner, except that I’d like to have one like it every Saturday in the
year. If I happened to be too sick to eat it, I could sit up and look at
it. Anyhow, we all had enough and to spare.
“After we had finished with the barbecue and were sitting in Brother
Bear’s front porch smoking our pipes and talking politics, I happened to
mention to Brother Bear something about Brother Wolf’s barbecue. I said,
says I, that I thought I’d go by Brother Wolf’s house as I went on home,
though it was a right smart step out of the way, just to see how the
land lay.
“Says Brother Bear, says he: ‘If you’ll wait till my company take their
leave, I don’t mind trotting over to Brother Wolf’s with you. The walk
will help to settle my dinner.’
“So, about two hours by sun, we started out and went to Brother Wolf’s
house. Brother Bear knew a short cut through the big canebrake, and it
didn’t take us more than half an hour to get there. Brother Wolf was
just telling his company good-by; and when they had all gone he would
have us go in and taste his mutton stew, and then he declared he’d think
right hard of us if we didn’t drink a mug or two of his persimmon beer.
“I said, says I, ‘Brother Wolf, have you seen Brother Fox to-day?’
“Brother Wolf said, says he, ‘I declare, I haven’t seen hair nor hide of
Brother Fox. I don’t see why he didn’t come. He’s always keen to go
where there’s fresh meat a-frying.’
“I said, says I, ‘The reason I asked was because I left Brother Fox at
the forks of the road trying to make up his mind whether he’d eat at
your house or at Brother Bear’s.’
“‘Well, I’m mighty sorry,’ says Brother Wolf, says he; ‘Brother Fox
never missed a finer chance to pick a bone than he’s had to-day. Please
tell him so for me.’
“I said I would, and then I told Brother Wolf and Brother Bear good-by
and set out for home. Brother Wolf’s persimmon beer had a little age on
it, and it made me light-headed and nimble-footed. I went in a gallop,
as you may say, and came to the forks of the road before the sun went
down.
“You may not believe it, but when I got there Brother Fox was there
going through the same motions that made me laugh in the morning—running
down one road and licking his chops, and then running down the other and
licking his chops.
“Says I, ‘I hope you had a good dinner at Brother Wolf’s to-day, Brother
Fox.’
“Says he, ‘I’ve had no dinner.’
“Says I, ‘That’s mighty funny. Brother Bear had a famous barbecue, and I
thought Brother Wolf was going to have one, too.’
“Says Brother Fox, ‘Is dinner over? Is it too late to go?’
“Says I, ‘Why, Brother Fox, the sun’s nearly down. By the time you get
to Brother Bear’s house, he’ll be gone to bed; and by the time you go
across the swamp to Brother Wolf’s house, the chickens will be crowing
for day.’
“‘Well, well, well!’ says Brother Fox, ‘I’ve been all day trying to make
up my mind which road I’d take, and now it’s too late.’
“And that was the fact,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “The poor creature had
been all day trying to make up his mind which road he’d take. Now, then,
what is the moral?”
Sweetest Susan looked at Mrs. Meadows, but Mrs. Meadows merely smiled.
Buster John rattled the marbles in his pocket.
“I know,” said Drusilla.
“What?” inquired Mr. Rabbit.
“Go down one road an’ git one dinner, den cut ’cross an’ git some mo’
dinner, an’ den go back home down de yuther road.”
Mr. Rabbit shook his head.
“Tar-Baby, you are wrong,” he said.
“If you want anything, go and get it,” suggested Buster John.
Mr. Rabbit shook his head and looked at Sweetest Susan, whereupon she
said:—
“If you can’t make up your mind, you’ll have to go hungry.”
Mr. Rabbit shook his head.
“Eat a good breakfast,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and you won’t be worried
about your dinner.”
“All wrong!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, with a chuckle. “The moral is this:
He who wants too much is more than likely to get nothing.”
“Well,” remarked Mrs. Meadows dubiously, “if you have to work out a
moral as if it was a sum in arithmetic, I’ll thank you not to trouble me
with any more morals.”
“The motion is seconded and carried,” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
IX.
THE LITTLE BOY OF THE LANTERN.
“Of course,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “all of you can tell better stories
than I can, because you are larger. Being taller, you can see farther
and talk louder; but I sometimes think that if I was to climb a tree,
I’d see as far as any of you.”
“Well, I hope your feelings are not hurt,” remarked Mr. Rabbit
sympathetically. “It’s not the fault of your stories that I fall asleep
when you are telling them. It’s my habit to sit and nod at certain hours
of the day, and if you’ll watch me right close, you’ll see that I
sometimes drop off when I’m telling a story myself. I’ll try and keep
awake the next time you tell one.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to prop Mr. Rabbit’s eyelids open with straws,”
said Mrs. Meadows, laughing.
“I’ll just try you with a little one,” Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “I’ll
tell you one I heard when I was younger. I want to see whether Mr.
Rabbit will keep awake, and I want to see whether there’s a moral in the
tale.”
So he took off his little hat, which was shaped like a thimble, and run
his hand over the feather ornament to straighten it out. Then he began:—
“A long time ago, when there was a great deal more room in the country
next door than there is now, there lived a man who had a wife, one son,
a horse, a cow, and a calf. He was a hard-working man, so much so that
he had little or no time to devote to his family. He worked hard in the
field all day, and when night came he was too tired to trouble much
about his son. His wife, too, having no servant, was always busy about
the house, sewing, washing, cooking, cleaning, patching, milking, and
sweeping. Day in and day out it was always the same. The man was always
working, and the woman was always working. They had no rest except on
Sunday, and then they were too tired to pay much attention to their son.
“The consequence was, that while the boy was a very bright lad, he was
full of mischief, up to all sorts of tricks and pranks that some people
call meanness. By hook or by crook—or maybe by book—he had learned how
to spell and read. But the only book he had to read was one with big
pictures of men dressed in red clothes, and armed with yellow cutlasses.
The book was called ‘The Pirooters of Peruvia.’”
“Maybe the name was ‘The Pirates of Peru,’” suggested Buster John.
“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “I don’t suppose any such country
as Peru had been found on the map when that book was written. But never
mind about that. The boy read only that book, and he became rather wild
in his mind. He wanted to be a pirooter, whatever that was, and so he
armed himself with old hoe helves and called them pikes, and he tied a
shingle to his side and called it a cutlass, and he got him a
broom-handle and called it a horse.
“This boy’s name was Johnny, but sometimes they called him Jack for
short. Some people said he was mean as he could be; but I don’t say
that. He was fonder of scampering over the country than he was of
helping his mother. Maybe he didn’t know any better because he wasn’t
taught any better. But one morning his mother was so tired that she
couldn’t get out of bed. She had worn herself out with work. The next
morning she couldn’t get up, nor the next; and then the neighbors, who
had come in to see what the matter was, said that she would never get up
any more. So one day Johnny found everything very still in the house,
and the neighbors who were there were kinder to him than they ever had
been, and then he knew that his mother would never get tired any more.
“He felt so bad that he wandered off into the woods, crying as he went.
His eyes were so full of tears that he couldn’t see where he was going,
and he didn’t care. He went on and on, until, finally, when he took
heart to look around, he found himself in a part of the country that was
new to him. This caused him to dry his eyes, for he was perfectly sure
that he had traveled neither fast nor far enough to be beyond the limits
of the numberless journeys he had made in all directions from his
father’s house; and yet, here he was, suddenly and without knowing how
he got there, in a country that was altogether new to him.
“It was just like when you came down through our spring gate,” said Mr.
Thimblefinger. “The grass was different and the trees were different,
and even the sand and the gravel were of a color that Johnny had never
seen before. Suddenly, while he was wondering how he could have missed
seeing all these strange things when he had journeyed this way before, a
lady, richly dressed, came out of the woods and stood before him. She
neither smiled nor looked severe, but pity seemed to shine in her face.
“‘What now?’ she said, raising her hand to her head. ‘You have come fast
and come far. You are in trouble. Go back. When you want me, go to the
Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill and call my name.’
“‘Who are you?’ asked Johnny, forgetting to be polite, if he ever knew
how.
“‘The Keeper of the Cows that roam in the night,’ replied the lady.
‘When you go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill, whisper
this:—
O Keeper of Cows that roam in the night,
Come over the hill and lend me your light.’
“Johnny would have thanked the woman, but in the twinkling of an eye she
was gone without making a sound, and not a blade of grass shook to show
that she had been there. Johnny turned in his tracks and started home
the way he came. Before he had gone far he stopped to look back, but the
strange country was nowhere to be seen—only the old familiar hills and
trees that he had always known.
“When he got home there was a strange woman cooking and fixing his
father’s supper. The table was set, and everything was almost as neat
and as tidy as it used to be when his mother was alive. Even his own
little plate was in its place, and his mug, with the picture of a blue
castle painted on it, was by the plate. But Johnny had no appetite. He
went to the door and looked in, and then went to the stable. Once there,
he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to drive the cow in from
the pasture. He went running to get her, but found her coming along of
her own accord, something she was not in the habit of doing.
[Illustration:
A LADY, RICHLY DRESSED, CAME OUT OF THE WOODS
]
“Johnny wondered a little at this, but it soon passed out of his mind,
and he got behind the cow and made her go faster. He drove the cow into
the lot, and waited awhile for the woman to come and milk. But she
delayed so long that he went to the house and found his father eating
supper. Instead of going to the table, he went and sat by the fire.
“‘Have something to eat?’ said the woman.
“‘I am not hungry,’ he replied.
“‘Have a glass of fresh milk, then?’ she said.
“‘Not to-night,’ he answered. ‘I have just driven the cow in from the
pasture.’
“‘I brought her from the pasture myself,’ said the woman, ‘milked her,
and turned her out again.’
“Johnny said nothing to this, but he knew the cow had not been milked,
and he wondered where the woman got the milk that his father was
drinking. He thought it over, and forgot all about his grief. He noticed
that as soon as his father drank the milk he began to smile at the
woman. He smiled at the woman, but was cross to Johnny.
“After supper the woman went out, and after a while Johnny went out,
too, leaving his father sitting by the fire smoking his pipe. Johnny
went to the lot, thinking the woman had gone there. He wanted to see
whether she would milk the cow. He crept along the side of the fence,
and soon he was near enough to peep through a crack without being seen.
He saw the woman rubbing the cow on the back while the calf was getting
all the milk.
“‘You see how good I am to you, sister,’ said she. ‘Now I want you to be
good to me. When that boy Jack goes after you to the pasture, I want you
to lead him a chase. I saw him beating your calf to-day. But see how
good I am to your calf, sister. I give it all the milk.’
“The cow shook her horn and switched her tail, and Johnny, sitting in
the fence corner, wondered what it all meant.
“‘I see,’ said the cow, after a while. ‘You want to marry the boy’s
father, and the boy is in the way. But suppose they find you out. What
then?’
“‘Trust me for that, sister,’ said the woman; ‘trust me for that.’
“Johnny waited to hear no more, but crept away and went to bed. He was
dressed and out by sun-up next morning, but the woman was up before him,
and had breakfast nearly ready. Johnny asked her if she had milked the
cow, and she replied that she had milked and forgotten about it. Johnny
saw the milk-pail setting on the shelf, and when he looked at it he knew
the cow had not been milked, else the sides of the pail would have been
spattered.
“But the cow had been turned out, and the calf was sleeping contentedly
in the fence corner, instead of nibbling the grass. Johnny drank no milk
at breakfast, but his father did, and smiled at the woman more than
ever. During the day Johnny forgot all about the cow, but when night
came he knew she must be brought up, so he went to the pasture after
her. She was not to be found. He hunted over the hills and fields, and
then, not finding her, began to cry.
“Suddenly the lady he had seen the day before stepped out of the wood
and spoke to him. She held in her hand a tiny lantern.
“‘Take this,’ she said, holding out the lantern. ‘You wouldn’t call me,
and so I came to you.’
“‘I forgot,’ whispered Johnny.
“‘Don’t forget any more,’ said the lady. ‘Take this lantern and run to
the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill. You’ll find your cow tied
there. Drive her home, and don’t spare her.’