and dry bread all the year round, with potatoes now and then thrown in,
and had to live in a hut, didn't they have a Little Gray Grandmother,
when so many city children, who thought themselves fine because they
lived in big houses, had never even heard of her!
Now, you can understand why all the children were gathered together
eagerly looking at something which lay on the sand before them. The
Little Gray Grandmother had been there and had left something. What was
it? They could not tell. It glittered like the surface of a pool of
water when it is quite still and the sun shines down upon it, and they
could see their faces reflected on it just as they had often seen them
in the well back of the house, only this mirrored their faces much more
clearly than the well did. _What was it?_ For whom had the Little Gray
Grandmother intended it? These were the questions they could not answer.
So they decided to take it in to the dear-mother and have her explain it
to them.
Ah, the dear-mother, she must know, she knew almost everything and what
she didn't know she always tried to find out for them. That was the
finest thing about the dear-mother. Of course she cooked their food for
them, and made their clothes, and nursed any of them when they were ill,
and all such things, but the great thing about her was that she never
seemed too busy to look at what they brought her and was always ready to
answer their questions. Therefore they with one accord decided to take
this new gift into the house and ask the dear-mother about it.
Of course she admired it; she always admired everything they brought
her, if it was only a star-fish or a new kind of sea-weed. She said it
was made of some sort of precious metal, and that it seemed to be a
mirror such as they used in olden times before looking-glasses had been
invented. "Perhaps," she added, "it has been washed up from the sea."
But the children cried, "Oh, no, the Little Gray Grandmother left it."
They were very, very sure of that. But for whom had it been left? Even
the dear-mother could not settle this question.
At last it was decided that it should be hung on the cottage wall that
all might use it; so there it hung for many a year, and ah, such strange
things as the children saw reflected in it! It was not at all like an
ordinary mirror, not in the least like anything you ever saw, and yet,
perchance you may have seen something like it. How do I know?
Well, at any rate the children had never heard of such a wonderful
mirror before. It had a queer way of swinging itself on its hinge--I
forgot to tell you that it had been fastened to the wall by a hinge so
that its face could be turned toward the east or the west window, and
thus let the children see themselves in the morning as well as the
evening light. At first they thought this was a fine idea, but sometimes
it was not exactly comfortable to have the small mirror suddenly swing
round and face them when they didn't care to be faced.
For instance, when Mai had been working hard all day and because she
felt tired, spoke crossly to the little brothers, it was not at all
agreeable to look up and see the face of a bear reflected in the silver
mirror, or when Gregory had been boasting of something fine he was going
to accomplish, to catch a glimpse of a barnyard rooster strutting about
as if he were indeed the master of the farm. Somehow it made Gregory
feel foolish even if the rest of the children did not see the image in
the mirror. Once little Beta came in ahead of the others, and, finding
some apples that the father had brought home, seized the largest one and
began to devour it. A swing of the silver mirror brought its polished
surface before her eyes, and instead of a reflection of her own chubby
face, she saw a pig greedily devouring a pile of apples. She couldn't
understand it, and yet it made her feel ashamed and she quietly laid the
apple back on the table.
But the pictures were not all disagreeable ones. Sometimes the small
silver mirror reflected _beautiful_ pictures. One bright summer day when
Mai had stayed indoors all the morning to help the dear-mother finish a
jacket for Beta, when she was longing with all her heart to be out in
the sunshine, she chanced to glance up at the small mirror, and there
was the vision of a beautiful Saint, with a golden light around her head
such as Mai had seen in a church window once when she was in the city.
The smile on the face was radiant. In a moment the vision had
disappeared and only the shining surface of silver remained.
One day Gregory rowed little Beta across the bay to the large town on
the other side, and did without his dinner that with his little farthing
he might pay for the privilege of letting her climb the light-house
stairs and see how big the world was. That night when they reached
home, tired and happy, Beta looked into the mirror and there she saw the
good St. Christopher wading through a dark stream of water with the
little Christ-child on his shoulder, and somehow the face of St.
Christopher was Gregory's face. As she cried, "Look!" she pointed to the
mirror, but Gregory could see nothing but its shining surface. Still,
Beta ever afterwards called him "St. Christopher," little dreaming that
in years to come he would truly be the means by which many little
children were carried safely across the dark streams.
At another time Doodle had rescued a poor frightened cat from some boys
on the beach who were tormenting her, and even though they jeered at him
and called him "chicken-hearted" he had taken the little creature up in
his arms and brought her in to the dear mother. As he passed the small
silver mirror, a picture of a young knight shone in the depths of its
surface, with a face so strong and pure and brave that Doodle stopped to
admire it and wonder how it came there. Again and again when the
children did a kind, or a truthful, or loving thing, the mirror
reflected for a moment some beautiful image which instantly disappeared
if it were spoken of. Somehow it constantly reminded them of the glad
look in the eyes of the Little Gray Grandmother when she found them
playing peacefully and happily together. And strange to say, the Little
Gray Grandmother never came again after the small silver mirror had been
hung on the wall. Probably she thought they did not need her any longer.
Many years passed by and the children were all grown, when the
dear-mother was called to pass on to her heavenly home. As they gathered
around her death bed she asked them to hand her the small silver mirror
which still hung on the home wall. She took it and broke it into pieces,
giving a piece to each of of the eight children, and each piece
immediately became a full-sized mirror as large as the first one had
been. These she told them to keep always with them, and then with a
gentle smile she passed away. As they separated to go out into the
world, each one took his or her small silver mirror and hung it in his
or her private bed room, that each might look into it and know, for
certain, whether that day had been spent for the cause of the right or
the wrong.
_LITTLE BLESSED-EYES; OR, THE FAIRY'S BIRTHDAY GIFT._
In the olden times when fairies could be seen by mortals, they often
took upon themselves the office of sponsors, god-fathers and
god-mothers, to new-born children. In such cases, the child adopted was
sure, sooner or later, to receive some wonderful gift from his fairy
god-mother.
One bright, Spring morning, a sweet boy baby came into a humble home,
made ready for him by love. As his mother looked fondly upon the wee
form at her side she thought, naturally enough, of his future, and
wondered what kind of a man he would become. "How I wish," said she
softly, "that I could give to you, my darling child, the richest gift on
earth, so that Kings and Emperors might be proud to call you their
companion." "So you can," said a gentle voice beside her. The mother was
startled by the words, for she thought herself alone when she uttered
the wish. She looked to the right, then to the left,--nobody had
entered the room. "Ah, silly woman that I am," sighed she. "I have let
my own thoughts answer me." Again she looked down at her babe.
"I can give him the greatest and most wonderful gift on earth," said the
same gentle voice. This time the mother was quite sure that some one had
spoken, though the voice was unlike any human voice she had ever heard.
It was so soft and musical that it sounded like the tinkling of silver
bells. The poor woman was quite frightened and drew her babe closer to
her side as she peered into the shadowy corners of the room.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the silvery voice, "Are you afraid of me!"
Following the sound this time, the mother's eyes fell upon a tiny
creature no larger than your thumb who sat perched upon a post of the
bed. The body of this strange, little being was as perfect as that of
any child. From its two shoulders extended two wings as thin as gauze,
but gleaming with every tint of the rainbow. Upon its head was a slender
gold crown, and its small face just at this moment was bright with a
merry smile.
The mother knew instantly that it was one of the good fairies who were
reported to be present at the birth of every babe, and who, if seen and
recognized, were sure to bring some good fortune to the child, but if
unnoticed, went away sorrowing, because they were then powerless to help
the infant.
"What will you do for my child?" cried the mother. "Will you give him
comfort and ease and fill his days with pleasure?"
"Ah no," replied the fairy, "I will give him something _far better_ than
pleasant food and a soft bed and fine clothes!"
"Will you make him great and powerful so that men may bow down before
him?" said the mother eagerly.
"No! no!" again replied the fairy shaking her head. "I will give him
something of far more worth than fame and power!"
"You will make him rich, so rich that he will never have to work?"
exclaimed the mother.
"Nay, good woman," said the fairy seriously. "These are but foolish
things for which you ask. My gift is greater than all of these put
together. Pleasure and influence and wealth a man may earn for
himself--and he may be very miserable after he gets them, too," added
she, with a shrug of the shoulders. "The gift that I would bestow upon
your son will make him the happiest of mortals and will give him the
power of making many, many others happy!"
"Tell me," cried the mother, "how will you make him so happy? No human
being is ever sure of happiness."
"Let me kiss him upon his two eyelids as he lies there asleep," replied
the fairy, "and do you the same each returning birthday and all will be
well."
The mother hesitated; a step was heard approaching the door.
"Quick, quick!" exclaimed the fairy. "I must be off before that door
opens, as it is forbidden us ever to be seen by more than one mortal at
a time. Shall I give him the magic kiss or not?"
"Yes!" cried the excited mother, "I trust you will do no harm to my
precious child."
Instantly the fairy fluttered down from the post of the bed, and
impressing a kiss upon each of the closed eyelids of the child, she
said, softly, "He shall be called 'Blessed-Eyes.'"
The door of the room swung back upon its hinges, the father of the child
entered with a cheery "Good morning" to wife and babe, the fairy was
gone.--The mother silently pondered over what had happened and when the
christening day came, she said his name was to be "Blessed-Eyes."
Most of her friends and relatives thought this was a very queer name
indeed to give to a child, and even went so far as to argue with the
father that the little one ought to be named "John" or "James" after one
or the other of his two grandfathers. But as the boy grew into a sweet,
healthy childhood, loving and kind to everyone, they were gradually
reconciled to the name, and little Blessed-Eyes became a general
favorite. He was always sunshiny, always happy. His mother never failed
on each new birthday to rise early, even before the day dawned, and to
go to his bedside, and, bending over him, kiss his two eyelids as the
fairy had bidden. At such times she imagined that she heard a faint
sound as of a far-away chorus of strange, silvery voices, singing:
"Love well, love well, love well,
That the heart within may swell,
Love well, love well, love well!"
Still, she was never quite sure but that it was merely the first mellow
tones of the church bell in a distant village.
Long before her child could talk the mother noticed how closely he
observed everything about him, and how quickly he responded to the
faintest smile upon her face. As he grew older it was a delight to take
him out for a walk. He was constantly discovering some new beauty in the
landscape. He saw the first red glow of the evening sunset. His eyes
were the first to spy out the early spring flower, even before the snow
was off the ground. In the late autumn when the wind was sharp and cold
and the woods were bare, he was sure to bring home some red mountain
berries, or some withered leaf into a corner of which a cunning little
caterpillar had wrapped himself, sewing it over and over as one would
sew a bag. Then he would tell gleefully how the frost had touched the
ponds and changed them into smooth glass. Often on a cold winter morning
he would waken his mother by clapping his hands with joy over the
frost-pictures on the window pane. Sometimes in the evening twilight he
would ask his mother if the stars were pinholes in the floor of heaven
through which the glory shone. No stone nor cloud nor stream nor tree
but gave him pleasure.
"Ah," thought the mother, "this is the fairy's birthday gift. She has
made his eyes to see the beautiful everywhere." "More than that, far
more than that! Kings and princes shall yet call him great!" was
whispered gently in her ear. The mother was amazed. Who could have heard
her unuttered thoughts? She looked up, but she only saw a robin hopping
about in a branch of the tree overhead. Still she seemed to hear again
the soft but distant singing of the words,
"Love well, love well, love well,
That the heart within may swell,
Love well, love well, love well."
"Surely," said she, half aloud, "who could help loving the child. He has
indeed, blessed eyes."
As the boy grew older he seemed somehow to know the people about him as
nobody else knew them. He was always finding out the best that was in
each of them. Somehow he had a way of helping all the other lads out of
their difficulties. For instance, early one morning when he chanced to
be passing the old basket maker's, he heard the shop boy speaking in
loud, angry tones to the baskets, abusing them for being so contrary and
ill-shaped. Blessed-Eyes paused, and looking through the open door he
saw the poor apprentice struggling to fit a round cover on to a square
basket and a square cover on to a round basket.
"Let me help you," said Blessed-Eyes cheerily, "I think you have made a
mistake, that's all. This cover was intended for that basket, and that
cover for this basket." With these words he put the round cover on to
the round basket, and the square cover on to the square basket, and each
fitted snugly into its place.
"How clever you are, Blessed-Eyes," said the apprentice, "I have been
working over these baskets for the last half hour." Without more ado he
put them upon his shoulder, and started on his errand, which was to
deliver them to the gardener at the King's palace.
Years passed by, changing little Blessed-Eyes into a tall young man, and
each succeeding year added to the wonderful power which his eyes
possessed, of seeing the best that was in everything and everybody. He
was the friend of rich and poor. All sought his companionship, for he
was constantly pointing out to them so many beautiful things in the
world about them which they would never have seen but for him. All loved
him dearly, for he was just as constantly finding the best that their
inner world contained, and encouraging them to live according to their
noblest ideals of how true men and women should live. So, you see, the
fairy's Birthday Gift was indeed a great, and wonderful Gift.
_THE FAIR WHITE CITY; OR, A STORY OF THE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE._
Many of you will remember the story I told you of Little Blessed-Eyes
and the wonderful power his fairy god-mother gave him of seeing
instantly the best that was in everybody. To-day I want to tell you of
some of the remarkable things which happened after Blessed-Eyes had
become chief counsellor to the King, for, of course, the King was glad
to keep near him a man with such power as that.
Long years have passed since our last story and Blessed-Eyes had been
the King's Chief Counsellor for ten years, or more, and the capital had
become the most renowned city on earth. One day Blessed-Eyes was walking
through its streets when he heard a deep sigh as of some one in great
trouble. He turned, and looking around saw a poor laboring man with his
head bent forward upon his hands, as he sat on the doorstep of a house
near by.
"What is the matter?" said Blessed-Eyes gently, stopping in front of the
man.
"Ah," replied the poor man, "I can find nothing to do in this great
city. All the places in the shops and stores are already taken and my
children are starving for want of bread."
"What large, strong arms you have!" said Blessed-Eyes.
"Yes," replied the man, "but of what use are they to me. One can measure
tape or weigh sugar with much smaller arms than mine."
"Why do you not seek the King?" continued Blessed-Eyes, "and offer to go
to yonder mountain range and quarry the beautiful white marble which
lies there. I have heard that it is the most beautiful marble in the
whole world. Those great strong arms of yours could do a grand work in
the King's quarry."
The man's face softened at once. "I will go," he said.
The King gladly accepted the strong man's offer and the next day started
him out with crow-bars and drills to the mountain district, and soon
there came a wagon load of beautiful white marble, and then another and
then another. The King was so pleased with the marble that he sent ten
men to help the strong man in his work, and then twenty and then a
hundred, until the mountain tops rang with the sturdy blows of the
quarrymen. And soon a vast pile of the glistening, white marble had been
collected in the King's stoneyard, and the poor and discouraged man with
the strong arms had become the most famous stonemason in the world.
Not long after this, Blessed-Eyes and the King walked one fine evening
to look at the shining white marble and to plan how best it could be
used to make beautiful the city. As they reached the tall white pile,
they noticed a man standing beside it, evidently measuring it carefully
with his eye.
"It is a fine sight," said Blessed-Eyes, "is it not?"
The man turned and looked sadly at him for a moment, then taking a
tablet from his pocket he wrote on it: "I cannot hear a word that you
say; I am totally deaf, and therefore I am the loneliest man in all the
King's realm."
Blessed-Eyes' heart was stirred with pity for the lonely man. He took
the pencil and wrote on the tablet: "You evidently have a very correct
eye for measurements."
"Yes," replied the man, as soon as he had read these words, "I can tell
the difference of a hair's breath in the height of any two lines, and I
think I could estimate the weight of any one of these great stones
within half an ounce."
At this Blessed-Eyes seized the tablet and wrote rapidly on it these
words: "You have such good eyes for measurements and weights you would
surely be a good builder. This is the King. Why do you not offer to make
for him some beautiful buildings out of this white marble?"
The lonely man's face brightened; he turned to the King. A short
consultation showed the King that he had found a treasure, and the new
architect was set to work at once drawing plans for several buildings
which were to surround a charming lake that was in the King's park.
In a few months the quiet park became the scene of busy activity. Scores
of men were laying foundations; others were hewing the white marble into
shapely blocks; others were polishing portions of it into tall and
shining white pillars, and others still, were carving beautiful capitals
for the same. All were working under the direction of the new architect
whose wonderful designs had so inspired the King that he decided to
build the grandest and handsomest group of buildings which the nations
of the earth had ever seen. When all was done and the buildings stood in
their full majestic beauty with their long colonnades shining in the
sunlight and their graceful towers rising airily in the upper air and
their beautiful gilded domes crowning all, the scene resembled
fairyland. The people could hardly believe their eyes as they wandered
through the place. They came from the farthest ends of the earth to
enjoy its beauty, for the sad and lonely deaf man had now become the
most famous architect in the whole world, and was surrounded by friends
and admirers, who rejoiced in his power to create such bewildering
scenes of beauty. His face lost its sad expression and each time that he
met Blessed-Eyes there came a joyful smile upon it.
Handsome and attractive as were the outsides of these buildings, within
they were cold and bare, and Blessed-Eyes and the King often consulted
as to how the inner walls might be made as beautiful as were the outer
ones. It chanced one day that as Blessed-Eyes was walking alone through
the "Court of Honor," (this was the name now given to that part of the
lake which was surrounded by the white marble buildings), he observed a
group of boys and young men, evidently having great sport with some
object in their midst. When he came near he saw it was an embarrassed
and harassed looking stranger whom they were tormenting.
With a feeling of indignation he pressed forward into their midst.
"What is your difficulty, sir?" he said quietly and respectfully.
The stranger blushed and faltered, then he stammeringly said:--
"I-I-I ca-ca-canno-no-not sp-speak your language wi-wi-withou-ou-out
st--st-stammering."
At this the men roared with laughter. Again Blessed-Eyes turned an angry
look upon them, and quietly slipping his arm through the stranger's he
said: "Will you walk with me? I have something to say to you." And the
two walked off together, leaving the crowd rather abashed and ashamed of
its rudeness. When they had gone some distance in silence, Blessed-Eyes
said: "As soon as I saw you I noticed you had strong, shapely and
artistic hands. Surely you must be able to draw and paint." The
stranger's face lighted up with a radiant smile.
"How very odd," he stammered, "th-th-that you should see I was an
artist, I had hoped to get work here."
Blessed-Eyes took him at once to the King, and soon the three were deep
in plans for decorating and making beautiful the inner walls of the
wonderful white buildings which surrounded the "Court of Honor." It was
not long before the stammering stranger had proved that he was not only
an artist but a master artist. Lesser artists and new pupils flocked to
him from all parts of the land and soon the interior of the handsome
buildings presented scenes as busy as the outside had before shown. In
less than a year the walls of all the buildings had been decorated in
soft, beautiful colors, and on many of them were wonderful pictures of
far-away landscapes; of beautiful sunset clouds; of fair, floating angel
forms, and, best of all, true and lifelike portraits of the noblest men
and women of the nation. Long before this was accomplished the
stammering stranger had become recognized as the greatest artist of the
age.
The next question which arose in the mind of the King and his ever
faithful counsellor, Blessed-Eyes, was as to the best way to use the
now truly magnificent buildings, so that all the people might enjoy
them. While still full of these thoughts, Blessed-Eyes one day noticed a
man wearily pacing up and down the court with bowed head, and hands
clasped behind his body. On coming nearer Blessed-Eyes saw that he was
blind. At the sound of his approaching foot-steps the man stopped and
said:--
"Ah! that is the step of Blessed-Eyes! Much as he has been able to help
his fellow men, there is nothing that he can do for me!"
"Indeed," said Blessed-Eyes, cheerily, "I am not so sure of that. If you
can tell a man by his step you must certainly have very good hearing."
"Ah!" said the man, "I can hear a leaf fall to the ground a block away."