and the other children were sitting under the shade of a bazzle-bush in
the Looking-glass, telling fairy stories. It had come her turn to tell a
story, and she was trying to remember the one about the little girl who
had a silk dress made out of a muscadine skin, when all of a sudden
there was a roaring noise in the bushes near by. While they were shaking
with fright, a most horrible monster came rushing out, and glared at
them, growling all the while. It wore great green goggles. Its hair
stood out from its head on all sides, except in the bald place on top,
and its ears stuck out as big as the wings of a buzzard.
“‘Do you know who I am?’ it growled. ‘No, you don’t; but I’ll show you.
I am the Woog. Do you hear that? The Woog! Don’t forget that. What did I
hear you talking about just now? You were talking about fairies. Don’t
say you weren’t, for I heard you.’
“‘Well,’ says one of the Looking-glass Children, ‘what harm is there in
that?’
“‘Harm!’ screamed the Woog. ‘Do you want to defy me? I have caught and
killed and crushed and smoked out all the fairies that ever lived on the
earth, except a few that have hid themselves in this Looking-glass
country. What harm, indeed!—a pretty question to ask me, when I’ve spent
years and years trying to run down and smother out the whole fairy
tribe.’
“The Looking-glass Children,” Chickamy Crany Crow continued, “told the
Woog that they didn’t know there was any harm in the fairies themselves,
or in talking about them. The Woog paid no attention to their apologies.
He just stood and glared at them through his green goggles, gnashing his
teeth and clenching his hands.
“Says the monster after awhile, ‘How dare any of you wish that you could
see a fairy, or that you had a fairy godmother? What shall I do with
you? I crushed a whole population of fairies between the lids of this
book’ (he held up a big book, opened it, and clapped it together again
so hard that it sounded like some one had fired off a gun), ‘and I’ve a
great mind to smash every one of you good-for-nothing children the same
way.’
“You may be sure that by this time the poor little Looking-glass
Children were very much frightened, especially when they saw that the
Woog was fixing to make an attack on them. He dropped his big book, and
when the children saw him do this they broke and run: some went one way
and some another. The last they saw of him, he was rushing through the
bushes like a blind horse, threshing his arms about, and doing more
damage to himself than to anybody else. But the children had a terrible
scare, and if he hasn’t made way with some of them it’s not because he
is too good to do it.”
“The poor dears!” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows sympathetically.
“Dat ar creetur can’t come out’n dat Lookin’-glass like de yuthers, kin
he?” inquired Drusilla, moving about uneasily: “kaze ef he kin, I’m
gwine ’way fum here. I dun seed so many quare doin’s an’ gwine’s on dat
I’ll jump an’ holler ef anybody pints der finger at me.”
“Well, Tar-Baby,” replied Mr. Rabbit with some dignity, “he hasn’t never
come out yet. That’s all that can be said in that line. He may come out,
but if he does you’ll be in no danger at all. The Woog would never
mistake you for a fairy, no matter whether he had his green goggles on
or whether he had them off.”
“No matter ’bout dat,” remarked Drusilla. “I mayn’t look like no fairy,
but I don’t want no Woog fer ter be cuttin’ up no capers ’roun’ me. I
tell you dat, an’ I don’t charge nothin’ fer tellin’ it. Black folks
don’t stan’ much chance wid dem what knows ’em, let ’lone dem ar Woog
an’ things what don’t know ’em. Ef you all hear ’im comin’, des give de
word, and I boun’ you’ll say ter yo’se’f dat Drusilla got wings. Now you
min’ dat.”
“What does the Woog want to kill the fairies for?” asked Sweetest Susan.
“He must be very mean and cruel.”
“He’s all of that, and more,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “The fairies please
the children, and give them something beautiful to think about in the
day and to dream about at night, and the Woog doesn’t like that. He
hates the fairies because it pleases the children to hear about them,
and he hates the children because they like to hear about the fairies.”
“Well, I never want to see him until I am big enough to tote a gun,”
said Buster John. “After that, I don’t care how soon I meet him.”
“Now,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, turning to Mrs. Meadows with a solemn air,
“didn’t you say that all this about the Woog was a tale, or something of
that sort.”
“I believe I did,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “What about it?”
“Just this,” said Mr. Rabbit,—“a tale’s a tale, and it never stops until
all is told.”
“If that’s the case, I’ve heard some here that overshot the mark,”
remarked Mrs. Meadows.
“No doubt, no doubt,” responded Mr. Rabbit. “But what became of the
Woog?”
“I know! I know!” cried Tickle-My-Toes, who had been listening to all
that was said about the Woog.
“Very well; let’s hear about it,” suggested Mr. Rabbit.
“’Taint much,” said Tickle-My-Toes modestly. “The chap in the
Looking-glass that looks like me, he was the one that fell into the
hands or the claws of the Woog. He could have got away with the rest,
but a piece of straw was caught between his toes, and it tickled him so
that he laughed until he couldn’t run. He just fell on the ground and
rolled over and over, laughing all the time. In this way the Woog caught
up with him and grabbed him, and carried him away off in the woods in
the Looking-glass country. They were away off in that part of the
country where there was no green grass on the ground. There were no
green leaves on the trees, no flowers blooming, and no birds singing.
“The Woog carried the little chap that looks like me to that dark place,
and nearly scared him to death.
“‘You pretend to be something or somebody, do you?—you, a shadow in a
glass,’ growled the Woog.
“‘I’m what I am,’ said the little chap.
“‘You are not,’ cried the Woog. ‘You are nothing. Why do you pretend to
be somebody or something?’
“The little chap didn’t say anything in reply, because there was nothing
to say. There’s no use in disputing when you can’t help yourself. So the
Woog took him and tied him to a dead tree, leaving his big book lying
near. There is no telling what would have happened to the little chap;
but just as soon as the Woog got out of sight, a strong, tall man, with
gray hair combed straight back over his head, suddenly made his
appearance, and untied the cords, and set the little chap free.
“‘Don’t be frightened,’ said the tall man; ‘I am the Weeze. I have been
hunting the Woog for many a long day, and now I think I’ll put an end to
him.’
“Presently the Woog came back growling and grumbling. When he looked up
and saw the Weeze, it was too late for him to escape. But he turned and
tried to run. Just then the Weeze seized the big book and threw it at
the Woog. As it hit him, there was a big explosion, and the Woog and his
big book both disappeared.
“The little chap that looks like me,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “was telling
me about it to-day; and he said that it wasn’t long after the explosion
before the flowers began to bloom in that place, and the birds to sing,
and the leaves began to grow on the trees. And after awhile the fairies
began to peep out from their hiding-places; and when the little chap
came away he could see them playing Ring-Around-Rosy on the green grass.
“It was mighty funny, wasn’t it?” asked Tickle-My-Toes, in conclusion.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XXI.
UNCLE RAIN AND BROTHER DROUTH.
“Now I’m not so mighty certain that that is a real tale after all,” said
Mr. Rabbit, “although it took two to tell it. There’s something the
matter with it somewhere. The running-gear is out of order. I’m not
complaining, because what might suit me might not suit other people.
It’s all a matter of taste, as Mrs. Meadows’s grandmother said when she
wiped her mouth with her apron and kissed the cow.”
“Well,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, “there’s no telling what happens in
a Looking-glass when nobody is watching. I’ve often wanted to know. The
little that I’ve heard about the Woog and the Weeze will do me until I
can hear more.”
“I remember a story that I thought was a very good one when I first
heard it,” said Mrs. Meadows. “But sometimes a great deal more depends
on the time, place, and company than on the stories that are told. I’m
such a poor hand at telling tales that I’m almost afraid to tell any
that I know. I’ve heard a great many in my day and time, but the trouble
is to pick out them that don’t depend on a wink of the eye and a wave of
the hand.”
“Give us a taste of it, anyhow,” suggested Mr. Rabbit. “I’ll do the
winking, the Tar-Baby can do the blinking, and Mr. Thimblefinger can
wave his hands.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “once upon a time there lived in a country
not very far from here a man who had a wife and two children,—a boy and
a girl. This was not a large family, but the man was very poor, and he
found it a hard matter to get along. He was a farmer, and farming, no
matter what they say, depends almost entirely on the weather. Now, this
farmer never could get the weather he wanted. One year the Rain would
come and drown out his crops, and the next year the Drouth would come
and burn them up.
“Matters went from bad to worse, and the farmer and his wife talked of
nothing else but the Rain and the Drouth. One year they said they would
have made a living but for the Drouth, and the next they said they would
have been very well off but for the Rain. So it went on from year to
year until the two children,—the boy and the girl,—grew up large enough
to understand what their father and mother were talking about. One year
they’d hear they could have no Sunday clothes and shoes because of the
Drouth. The next year they’d hear they could have no shoes and Sunday
clothes because of the Rain.
“All this set them to thinking. The boy was about ten years old and the
girl was about nine. One day at their play they began to talk as they
had heard their father and mother talk. It was early in the spring, and
their father was even then ploughing and preparing his fields for
planting another crop.
“‘We will have warm shoes and good clothes next winter if the Rain
doesn’t come and stay too long,’ said the boy.
“‘Yes,’ replied the girl, ‘and we’ll have good clothes and warm shoes if
the Drouth doesn’t come and stay too long.’
“‘I wonder why they’ve got such a spite against us,’ remarked the boy.
“‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ replied the girl. ‘If we go and see them, and
tell them who we are, and beg them not to make us so cold and hungry
when the ice grows in the ponds and on the trees, maybe they’ll take
pity on us.’
“This plan pleased the boy, and the two children continued to talk it
over, until finally they agreed to go in search of the Rain and the
Drouth. ‘Do you,’ said the boy, ‘go in search of Brother Drouth, and I
will go in search of Uncle Rain. When we have found them, we must ask
them to visit our father’s house and farm, and see the trouble and ruin
they have caused.’
“To this the girl agreed; and early the next morning, after eating a
piece of corn bread, which was all they had for breakfast, they started
on their journey, the boy going to the east and the girl to the south.
The boy traveled a long way, and for many days. Sometimes he thought he
would never come to the end of his journey; but finally he came to
Cousin Mist’s house, and there he inquired his way.
“‘What do you want with Uncle Rain?’ asked Cousin Mist. ‘He is holding
court now, and he is very busy. Besides, you are not dressed properly.
When people go to court, they have to wear a certain kind of dress. In
your case, you ought to have a big umbrella and an oilcloth overcoat.’
“‘Well,’ replied the boy, ‘I haven’t got ’em, and that’s the end of that
part of it. If you’ll show me the way to Uncle Rain’s house, I’ll go on
and be much obliged to boot.’
“Cousin Mist looked at the boy and laughed. ‘You are a bold lad,’ he
said, ‘and since you are so bold, I’ll lend you an umbrella and an
oilcloth overcoat, and go a part of the way with you.’
“So the boy put on the overcoat and hoisted the umbrella, and trudged
along the muddy road toward the house of Uncle Rain. When they came in
sight of it, Cousin Mist pointed it out, told the boy good-by, and then
went drizzling back home. The boy went forward boldly, and knocked at
the door of Uncle Rain’s house.
“‘Who is there?’ inquired Uncle Rain in a hoarse and wheezy voice. He
seemed to have the asthma, the choking quinsy, and the croup, all at the
same time.
“‘It’s only me,’ said the boy. ‘Please, Uncle Rain, open the door.’
“With that, Uncle Rain opened the door and invited the little fellow in.
He did more than that: he went to the closet and got out a dry spot, and
told the boy to make himself as comfortable as he could.”
“Got out a—what?” asked Buster John, trying hard to keep from laughing.
“A dry spot,” replied Mrs. Meadows solemnly. “Uncle Rain went to the
closet and got out a dry spot. Of course,” she continued, “Uncle Rain
had to keep a supply of dry spots on hand, so as to make his visitors
comfortable. It’s a great thing to be polite. Well, the boy sat on the
dry spot, and, after some remarks about the weather, Uncle Rain asked
him why he had come so far over the rough roads. Then the boy told Uncle
Rain the whole story about how poor his father was, and how he had been
made poorer year after year, first by Brother Drouth and then by Uncle
Rain. And then he told how he and his little sister had to go without
shoes and wear thin clothes in cold weather, all because the crops were
ruined year after year, either by Brother Drouth or Uncle Rain.
[Illustration:
THE BOY TOLD UNCLE RAIN THE WHOLE STORY
]
“He told his story so simply and with so much feeling that Uncle Rain
was compelled to wipe his eyes on a corner of the fog that hung on the
towel rack behind the door. He asked the boy a great many questions
about his father and his mother.
“‘I reckon,’ said Uncle Rain finally, ‘that I have done all of you a
great deal of damage without knowing it, but I think I can pay it back.
Bring the dry spot with you, and come with me.’ He went into the
barnyard, and the boy followed. They went into the barn, and there the
boy saw, tied by a silver cord, a little black sheep. It was very small,
but seemed to be full grown, because it had long horns that curled round
and round on the sides of its head. And, although the horns were long
and hard, the little sheep was very friendly. It rubbed its head softly
against the boy’s hand, and seemed to be fond of him at first sight.
“Uncle Rain untied the silver cord, and placed the loose end in the
boy’s hand. ‘Here is a sheep,’ he said, ‘that is worth more than all the
flocks in the world. When you want gold, all you have to do is to press
the golden spring under the left horn. The horn will then come off, and
you will find it full of gold. When you want silver, press the silver
spring under the right horn. The horn will come off, and you will find
it full of silver. When the horns have been emptied, place them back
where they belong. This may be done once, twice, or fifty times a day.’
“The boy didn’t know how to thank Uncle Rain enough for this wonderful
gift. He was so anxious to get home that he would have started off at
once.
“‘Wait a minute,’ said Uncle Rain. ‘You may tell your father about this,
but he must tell no one else. The moment the secret of the sheep is told
outside your family, it will no longer be valuable to you.’
“The boy thanked Uncle Rain again, and started home, leading his
wonderful sheep, which trotted along after him, as if it were glad to go
along. The boy went home much faster than he had gone away, and it was
not long before he reached there.”
“But what became of the little girl?” asked Sweetest Susan, as Mrs.
Meadows paused a moment.
“I am coming to her now,” said Mrs. Meadows. “The girl, according to the
bargain that had been made between her and her brother, was to visit
Brother Drouth, and lay her complaints before him. So she started on her
way. As she went along, the roads began to get drier and drier, and the
grass on the ground and the leaves on the trees began to look as if they
had been sprinkled with yellow powder. By these signs, the girl knew
that she was not far from the house of Cousin Dust, and presently she
saw it in the distance. She went to the door, which was open, and
inquired the way to Brother Drouth’s. Cousin Dust was much surprised to
see a little girl at his door; but, after a long fit of coughing, he
recovered himself, and told her that she was now in Brother Drouth’s
country.
“‘If you’ll show me the way,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll be more than obliged
to you.’
“‘I’ll go a part of the way with you,’ said Cousin Dust, ‘and lend you a
fan besides.’
“So they went along until they came in sight of Brother Drouth’s house,
and then Cousin Dust went eddying back home in the shape of a small
whirlwind. The girl went to Brother Drouth’s door and knocked. Brother
Drouth came at once and opened the door, and invited her in.
“‘I’ll not deny that I’m surprised,’ said he, ‘for I never expected to
find a little girl knocking at my door at this time of day. But you are
welcome. I’m glad to see you. You must have come a long journey, for you
look hot.’
“With that he went to the cupboard and got her a cool place to sit on,
and this she found very comfortable. But still Brother Drouth wasn’t
satisfied. As his visitor was a little girl, he wanted to be extra
polite, and so he went to his private closet and brought her a fresh
breeze with a handle to it; and, as the cool place had a cushioned back
and the fresh breeze a handle that the girl could manage, she felt
better in Brother Drouth’s house than she had at any time during her
long journey. She sat there on the cool place and fanned with the fresh
breeze, and Brother Drouth sat in his big armchair and smiled at her.
The little girl noticed this after awhile, and so she said:—
“‘Oh, you can laugh, but it’s no laughing matter. If you could see the
trouble you’ve caused at our house, you’d laugh on the other side of
your mouth.’
“When he heard this, Brother Drouth at once became very serious, and
apologized. He said he wasn’t laughing, but just smiling because he
thought she was enjoying herself.
“‘I may be enjoying myself now,’ said the little girl, ‘and I’m much
obliged to you; but if I was at home, I shouldn’t be enjoying myself.’
“Then she went on to tell Brother Drouth how her father’s crops had been
ruined year after year, either by Uncle Rain or by Brother Drouth, and
how the family got poorer and poorer all the time on that account, so
that the little children couldn’t have warm shoes and thick clothes in
cold weather, but had to go barefooted and wear rags. Brother Drouth
listened with all his ears; and when the little girl had told her story,
he shook his head, and said that he was to blame as well as Uncle Rain.
He explained that, for many years, there had been a trial of strength
going on between him and Uncle Rain, and they had become so much
interested in overcoming each other that they had paid no attention to
poor people’s crops. He said he was very sorry that he had taken part in
any such affair. Then he told the little girl that he thought he could
pay her back for a part of the damage he had done, and that he would be
more than glad to do so.
“Says he, ‘Bring your cool place and your fresh breeze with you, and
come with me.’
“She followed Brother Drouth out into the barnyard, and into the barn;
and there, tied by a golden cord, she saw a snow-white goat.
“‘This goat,’ said Brother Drouth, ‘is worth more than all the goats in
the world, tame or wild.’ With that he untied the golden cord, and
placed the loose end in the girl’s hand. The goat was small, but seemed
to be old; for its horns, which were of the color of ivory, curved
upward and over its back. They were so long that, by turning its head a
bit, the snow-white goat could scratch itself on its ham. And though it
seemed to be old, it was very gentle; for it rubbed its nose and face
against the little girl’s frock, and appeared to be very glad to see
her.
“‘Now then,’ said Brother Drouth, ‘this goat is yours. Take it, and take
care of it. On the under side of each horn, you will find a small
spring. Touch it, and the horn will come off; and each horn, no matter
how many times you touch the spring, you will always find full of gold
and silver. But this is not all. At each change of the moon, you will
find the right horn full of diamonds, and the left horn full of pearls.
Now listen to me. You may tell your father about this treasure; but as
soon as the secret is told out of the family, your goat will be worth no
more to you than any other goat.’
“The little girl thanked Brother Drouth until he would allow her to
thank him no more. She would have left the cool place and the fresh
breeze, but Brother Drouth said she was welcome to both of them. ‘When
the weather is cold,’ said he, ‘you can put them away; but when it is
warm, you will find that the cool place and the fresh breeze will come
in right handy.’
“Thanking Brother Drouth again and again, the girl started on her
journey home, leading her wonderful goat, and carrying with her the cool
place and the fresh breeze. In this way, she made the long journey with
ease and comfort, and came to her father’s house without any trouble.
She reached the gate, too, just as her brother did. They were very glad
to see each other, and the sheep and the goat appeared to be old
friends; for they rubbed their noses together in friendly fashion.
“‘I’ll make our father and mother rich,’ said the boy proudly.
“‘And I’ll make them richer,’ said the girl still more proudly.
“So they took their wonderful goat and sheep into the stable, gave them
some hay to eat, and then went into the house.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XXII.
THE SNOW-WHITE GOAT AND THE COAL-BLACK SHEEP.
“Please don’t say that is the end of the story,” said Sweetest Susan, as
Mrs. Meadows made a longer pause than usual.
“Well, it ought to be the end,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “The two children
had come home with treasure and riches enough to suit anybody. That
ought to be the end of the story. You ought to be able to say that they
all lived happily together forever after. That’s the way they put it
down in the books; but this is not a book story, and so we’ll have to
stick to the facts.
“Now, then, when the boy and the girl returned home, one with the
wonderful sheep and the other with the wonderful goat, they found their
father and mother in a great state of mind. The whole country round
about had been searched for the children. The mother was sure they had
been stolen and carried off. The father, who had his own miseries always
in mind, was sure that they had grown tired of the poverty that
surrounded them, and had run away to see if they couldn’t do better
among strangers.
“So, when the children had returned home, as happy as larks, their
mother fell to weeping, and cried out: ‘I am so glad you have escaped,
my pretty dears.’ The father grinned and said: ‘Why do you come back? Is
it because the fare elsewhere is no better than it is here?’
“Now, of course, the children didn’t know what to make of all this. They
stood with their fingers in their mouths, and wondered what the trouble
was. Then they were compelled to answer a shower of questions; and by
the time the inquiries had come to an end, they were not feeling very
comfortable at all. Finally the boy said:—
“‘My sister and myself were tired of wearing ragged clothes and having
little to eat, and so we concluded to seek our fortunes. We knew that
Uncle Rain and Brother Drouth had caused all the trouble, and so we
thought the best way to do would be to hunt them up and tell them the
trouble they were causing to one poor family. I went to see Uncle Rain,
and my sister went to see Brother Drouth. We found them at home, and
both were in good humor. Uncle Rain gave me a coal-black sheep, and
Brother Drouth gave my sister a snow-white goat, and told us that with
these we could make our fortunes.’
“‘A likely story—a very likely story indeed!’ exclaimed the father. ‘If
you have brought the sheep and the goat home, you would do well to take
them back where you got them, else we shall all be put in jail for
stealing and for harboring stolen property.’