ROBIN'S BOOK.
When Robin went to school in a great city, he saw children trifling
with their lessons, copying from the workers, and cheating their
teachers. They succeeded for a time, but when the day of searching
trial came, he saw them fail.
When Robin became a young man, he saw many who, carrying up the craft
and ignorance of earlier days, were utterly broken down in the great
business of the world. Impressed with the ruin that lies in shunning
true and ennobling labor, he wrote a little book, and the title was--
"MEN THAT CHEAT THEMSELVES."
THE SNOW-WHITE FOX.
There was once a lion with a bushy mane, whose name was Muffler. He
lived in a country, called Antartika, where the hills were high, the
valleys low, the forests thick, and the waters broad and deep. It was
a fertile land, where grass and fruits and flowers grew in abundance.
It was also a rich, rich country, full of precious stones lying on the
ground, shining in the beds of the rivers, and glittering on the face
of the mountains. Antartika was indeed a beautiful land.
But no people lived there, nothing but birds and beasts and fishes, and
a wonderful race of tailless apes that died out long ago. And Muffler,
the lion, was king.
On a certain day, a law-court day, Muffler sat on a diamond rock, and
at his back was a rock of ruby blazing in the sun. On his head was a
crown of laurel powdered with gold-dust and pearls. Beside him stood
Old Primeval the ape, his faithful adviser, wearing on his neck a
wreath of white poplar leaves dusted with silver, and holding in his
hand a club inlaid with shining emeralds. On each side of the king and
behind him were many young lions looking respectful and brave. Some
distance in front was a crowd of all kinds of beasts, such as tigers,
panthers, bears, wild-boars, wolves, hyenas, foxes, wild-cats, and even
deer, sheep and goats, while the trees around were covered with birds
of brilliant plumage. And they were all very quiet, because they were
expecting something.
"Who is next?" enquired the king.
"Crafticus, come forward," cried old Primeval.
There was a movement among the beasts as of someone pushing his way,
and then there came out from among them a snow-white fox with a bushy
tail. He walked forward with bowed head till he stood before the great
Muffler, who looked down at him sternly and haughtily.
"Stand up," commanded the king.
Crafticus stood on his hind legs, and his eyes blinked because of the
light from the ruby, which made him look as if covered with blood.
"State the charge," said the king turning to his counsellor.
"Crafticus," said Primeval solemnly, "you are charged with wilfully
slaying Awkwardibus, the king's gander, last night up beside Lake Snow
among the Topaz Hills. What have you got to say in self-defence?"
"I did not know that the gander was the king's," replied the fox in a
humble tone.
"Crafticus, you must have known, knowing that the king's ganders and
geese are green, while all the others are gray, black, and white," and
the counsellor thought he had promptly caught the fox, and that the
king would be highly pleased.
But Crafticus replied--"There was a storm up there last night, and the
gander was covered with snow--in my eyes he was white."
Old Primeval looked perplexed and annoyed.
But king Muffler laughed and his mane shook. "Crafticus is clever,"
said he. "I know something myself about the case, nevertheless call
for witnesses."
"There is but one witness, O king, and that is the gander's widow."
"Call her," said the king.
"Stupidify, come to the front," cried the counsellor.
The green goose waddled up before the king, napped her wings, cackled,
and screamed hysterically.
"Be silent, you idiot, don't you see the king?" Primeval shouted
between her cries.
"Where?" replied the goose, looking around her confused.
"There," said Primeval emphatically, pointing his emerald club at
Muffler's nose.
"Oh yes, I think I see him," cried the goose through her tears. "But I
thought the king was like my lovely husband. Oh dear me," and she
cried bitterly.
King Muffler cast his eyes down towards her with pity and contempt.
"Stupidify," said Primeval gravely, "was there a fall of snow last
night?"
"What? What?" enquired the goose.
"Are you deaf, you silly creature?" cried Primeval angrily. "Was there
not a fall of snow last night?" He wanted to frighten her into saying
there was, for he thought the king admired the fox and wished him to
escape.
"Be patient, be patient," said king Muffler, "my counsellor's conduct
should be dignified. Be gentle with the poor widow."
"Pardon me, O king," replied Primeval bowing low. Then turning to the
goose he enquired,
"Are you deaf, dear?"
"Yes, sir," answered she, and receiving such sympathy she screamed
loudly; which was rather annoying to Muffler's ears, for they jerked as
if wasps were at their tips.
When the goose quieted down, Primeval asked: "You don't think of course
there was any snow last night, my dear?" He wanted to coax her to say
there wasn't, for he now thought the king was in her favor.
"I don't remember," answered Stupidify; and Primeval scratched his head
in disgust, while the king gave a muffled laugh.
"O king Muffler," said Primeval, "I can proceed no further, for the
green goose is no use as a witness. Is the explanation given by
Crafticus satisfactory? Does he go free?"
"No," replied the king, "his explanation is cunning, but untrue. I
went to the top of the Topaz Mountain last night to get nearer the ear
of the man in the moon, in order to invite him down to see me and my
country. He did not seem to hear me, although I roared and shouted at
him all night, and during the time I was there not a flake of snow
fell. Therefore my judgment is that Crafticus did know that
Awkwardibus the gander was mine, for it was green and nothing else all
the time. Crafticus, I do therefore sentence you to leave your wife
and children, with all the rest of the Craftikites, and to stay with
widow Stupidify in my barn and its near surroundings, and to provide
food and comfort for her as long as she lives."
This was a deep humiliation, and Crafticus howled with shame and
disgust. When he moved away from the king's presence with the fat
goose waddling by his side, all the hyenas laughed and laughed. And
this was so vexing to him that he slyly turned his head toward
Stupidify and showed her all his teeth in anger.
So they walked away in the direction of the king's barn, which was to
be their home when they were not out in search of food.
* * * * *
That night before the goose came in, Crafticus thought and thought how
he could get rid of Stupidify. At last he rose up and sniffed through
the dried grass in search of Furrier, the black cat.
Furrier was asleep; but Crafticus nipped his left ear gently, and he
awoke with a yawn and stretched out his claws.
"What do you want?" said he, looking up.
"I wish you to help me to get rid of that hateful goose, dear Furrier."
"I am afraid of the king," replied the cat.
"You needn't, you will be quite safe. I have a cunning plan, but I
need your help, and I will reward you well."
[Illustration: CRAFTICUS. "I have a cunning plan."]
Crafticus then told his plan, and Purrier agreed and went out to meet
the goose, while the fox lay down in a low broad box, as if fast asleep.
* * * * *
"Hail, Stupidify, lovely fat goose," cried Furrier, when he met her and
saw her by the light of the moon.
"Joy be with you, dear sooty cat."
"Has Crafticus provided any food for you to-day?"
"Not a single speck, and I have been searching till now and have
scarcely got any--this place is new to me, as you know."
"Oh my poor dear goose, how sorry I am."
And hearing this she sat down and screamed.
"Arise and assert your rights," said Purrier, "and I will help you.
Let us go together to Crafticus, and if he be as careless about your
bed as about your food, you just scream and scream till you get what
you want."
So they went along side by side, and when they entered the barn and
looked into the box, Crafticus appeared to be in a deep sleep, but he
was only pretending.
Purrier leaped in softly and lay beside him. "Oh this is cold," said
he. Then he went to the other side and lay down. "Oh, this is cold
also," and he rose up shivering. Then he poked his paw under the fox
and whispered--"Ha, ha, this is warm. The selfish fellow--it is just
like him to choose the warmest spot. Come and judge for yourself, poor
neglected Stupidify."
The goose jumped in clumsily and fell on her fat breast. Then she
poked her beak under Crafticus and found it to be as the cat had said.
It never struck her that the heat came from the fox's own body.
"Now, demand your rights," said Purrier, "demand a share of the
comfortable spot," and he went away and lay down among the dried grass.
"I want my rights," cried the goose, in the fox's ear.
"What?" said Crafticus, rubbing his eyes.
"I want my rights, I want you to move."
"You have got your rights and double your rights. You can rest on
either side of me and I have only the centre."
"I want my share of the warm part."
"How can the centre be warmer than the sides?"
"Let me try," said the goose.
"All right, but it is very disturbing," replied the fox, and he rose up
and let the goose sit down.
"It is just as I felt with my beak, it is the warmest spot, and you
can't deny it. Now, I want my share of it."
"You won't get it, your request is absurd," and he pushed her aside.
Then he lay down and buried his eyes in his tail, as if trying to sleep.
Stupidify looked as if she might give in.
"Demand your rights," cried Purrier, in a shrill menacing voice; "the
king is on your side," he added, with an emphatic yell.
"I want my rights," cried the goose, encouraged to quarrelsomeness, and
she bit Crafticus on the ear.
"Stupidify," said the fox, slowly raising his head, "you are breaking
my rest. Don't you know that I have to run in the king's chamois chase
to-morrow, and that I need all the sleep I can get?"
"The king is my friend," answered the goose with a chuckle and a
stubborn look.
"Do let me alone," rejoined the fox, as he buried his face again in his
tail. But it was no use.
"I want my rights, I want my rights," screamed the goose, and she went
on demanding them or scolding and hissing every now and then till
midnight.
At last Crafticus arose and said--"I can't stand this any longer. I
can't get any sleep, and I shall be quite unfit for the king's chase."
Then turning to the goose he cried--"Wretch, you have provoked me to
kill you, and you have yourself to blame"; and having said this, he
seized Stupidify by the neck and killed her.
Purrier now sprang from his bed and leaped into the box beside
Crafticus, and they had a right royal feast together. They chatted and
laughed, and Purrier told what he said to the goose when he met her and
walked with her towards the barn.
"You have done well, Purrier, and I'll never forget you."
"Oh, my part was nothing," replied he, "it was your own wise head that
planned the whole trick. And when your case comes again before the
king, I am sure it can't be broken."
"Thank you sincerely," rejoined Crafticus. "I shall now get back to my
dear, sorrowing wife and children."
* * * * *
Two days afterwards, the fox stood again before the king.
"Crafticus," said the counsellor, with a grave face, "you are charged
this time with wilfully killing Stupidify, the king's fat goose. Now
what have you to say for yourself?"
Then Crafticus told the whole story of his provocation in a persuasive,
modest manner, and he finished by saying--
"Purrier, if I mistake not, was present at the time, and, if so, he
will be able to support every word I have spoken."
"Call for the black cat," commanded the king.
"Purrier, to the front," cried Primeval.
With a few fine springs the cat was in his place and on his hind legs
before the king. But his eyes were closed because of the glare of
light from the ruby and the diamond.
"Tell king Muffler all you know about Stupidify's treatment of
Crafticus."
Purrier did so and added--
"I was so sorry and indignant after the selfish goose sat down in the
poor fox's warm place that I called out to him--'Demand your rights,
the king is on your side.'"
Then Purrier finished by saying--
"Pardon me, O king, if I venture to say that such senseless, irritating
conduct as the goose exhibited all that night might almost try your own
great patience."
"It would indeed," said Muffler, "it was absurd and provoking in the
highest degree, and if there be nothing to set aside your testimony,
Crafticus shall go free." And when Purrier bowed and sprang away, the
king smiled approvingly and called after him--"You are a sympathetic,
clever little fellow, and I like your glossy, black coat."
"Next witness," said Muffler.
"Niblius, come forward," cried the counsellor.
But although everyone looked, no one could see Niblius, and they
wondered if he had dared not to be present. At last a little mouse
with a white face and white feet was seen running up the hairy body of
Primeval and out along his extended arm, and then sitting bolt upright
on his broad palm. Then it bowed with a pretty jerk to king Muffler,
and he nodded back and smiled.
"I suppose you will be able to prove the black cat's words to be true?"
remarked Primeval.
"No, my king," replied the little fellow bravely, and he told
everything he overheard in the barn.
King Muffler opened his eyes in astonishment and enquired--
"Is Niblius truthful?"
"He was never known to tell a lie in all his life," answered Primeval.
"Then Purrier must be very treacherous," rejoined the king.
"He is," said the counsellor.
"It is no new thing," remarked the king, "for crafty creatures to get
the simple to begin a foolish quarrel."
[Illustration: KING MUFFLER. "It is no new thing," remarked the king,
"for crafty creatures to get the simple to begin a foolish quarrel."]
"True, O king, and the crafty gain their end by seeming to be in the
right."
"If not found out," said Muffler. "Crafticus," he added, indignantly,
"such trickery, if practised by all my subjects, would break up my
mighty realm. And, besides, you showed no mercy. I do therefore
sentence you to be struck down by the lion Thunderpeal, my grumbling
uncle, or, if you choose, to be torn in pieces by the tiger Clawnailia,
my cruel cousin, or to the mercy of anyone as cruel-hearted as
yourself, and if you can escape their terrible clutches, good and well.
I am sorry for you, and I am doubly sorry that talent like yours should
be so much abused."
"I bow to your will, O King," said Crafticus meekly.
The fox's wife and children now came forward to bid him farewell
forever. They were beautiful creatures, especially the little foxes,
and their cries were heart-rending. They looked wistfully into the
eyes of the condemned Crafticus, and placed their heads gently and
affectionately beside his drooping head.
When Thunderpeal advanced by the counsellor's request to separate them,
he had much difficulty in pushing them away, and king Muffler's big
heart was touched with sorrow.
Then Crafticus stood alone by the side of Thunderpeal, who waited
impatiently the signal to strike him down.
"O king," said Crafticus, "may I speak one word?"
"You may, but make haste, for my uncle's face is getting dark and
cloudy."
"You gave me my choice of a slayer, O king?"
"I did, but of one as cruel as yourself."
"You placed me in their mercy, O king?"
"I did, and I am very sorry for you, but the law must take its course."
"Then, O king Muffler, I choose my wife."
On hearing this the king's eyes opened wide, while Thunderpeal broke
into a roar of anger, but a flash of Muffler's eyes sent him howling
away. Then the king turned toward his counsellor and said--
"Well, well, isn't Crafticus clever? He catches at words as a lawyer
handles them among mankind. Who would have thought that he would turn
my words in his own favor?" Then Muffler laughed, and said--"he
deserves to escape. After all, it was only a goose, and the goose was
my own, and I can well afford the loss." And he laughed till his mane
shook. "Go, Crafticus," he added, "and be slain by the mercy of your
wife--by one indeed as cruel as yourself when it is a case of geese and
ganders."
Crafticus bowed low and answered--
"I am deeply thankful, O king Muffler, for your justice and sympathy."
"Before you go," said the king, "there is one command I desire to make."
"I await your pleasure, O king."
"Make a right use of your talents, my Crafticus--be straightforward, be
straightforward."
"I will, my king, I will."
Old Primeval smiled but said nothing.
Then Crafticus left with a bound, and getting into the presence of his
wife and children, they killed him nearly--with kindness.
THE SONG-SPARROW.
The song-sparrow sang a long sweet song. Then he stopped and looked
around. Butterflies and bees and other insects were on the wing
everywhere, floating, darting and dancing in the sunshine; but the bird
did not seek to disturb any of them, he had had a good breakfast of
berries, and he was happy.
He might well be happy, not only for delicious food and glorious
sunshine and power to sing a lovely song, but for the fact that his
home was near. And in that home were his young ones--his tiny
children,--and his little wife.
So the song-sparrow raised his rufous head, and opening his mouth, and
vibrating his throat, he sang again as if in thankfulness and praise.
"Listen, Richard," said his little mate suddenly, and of course in her
own tongue, "listen, listen." She called him "Richard," but if he were
in a cage people would call him "Dickie."
Richard stopped in the middle of his song, and bending down his head,
while turning his right eye toward a pretty cottage close by, he
listened attentively and with great delight.
"Jenny," remarked he to his tiny wife, when the cottage song was done,
"Master George is at the open window, the beautiful day has stirred his
heart, and he has sung happily and well."
"Yes," said Jenny, "this must be Saturday, for his tone is unusually
bright and happy."
"It is always happy," answered Richard.
"True," said Jenny, "but it is happier to-day."
"Well, be it so, we won't differ, dear."
"That is right, dear husband, we must show a good example to our
children;" and the mother-sparrow nestled her little ones lovingly.
"There is only one thing that makes me anxious in this glad world,"
remarked Richard as he looked down from the bush to the comfortable
nest in the grass.
"What is it husband?"
"I am afraid of that snake I saw gliding outside and round the fence
yesterday."
"Ah, yes," replied the little mother, "it makes my flesh creep to think
of it; but I hope it won't venture into the garden."
"I trust not," said Richard; "but if I were a man, and if I had a gun,
I should make short work of it."
"Aren't guns wonderful things, husband? How they blow out fire and
smoke, and what a deafening noise they make!"
"They are indeed wonderful, Jenny; but aren't they fearful? Do you
remember how the poor hare fell, although it was far away from the gun
and running like a railway train?"
"I do, Richard; it tumbled over just as the fire burst out, and there
was such a big blood spot on its side. Oh, guns are dreadful things."
"They are, Jenny, and we ought to be thankful that nobody around this
garden uses them," said Richard, with a look of relief.
"Isn't Master George a fine boy?" remarked Jenny.
"He is; he wouldn't hurt a fly--that is, pull off its legs and then its
head and torment it, as wicked youngsters do."
"I love to see him in the garden," said Jenny; "somehow I feel safer
when he is near. He is so big compared with you, Richard, and so kind.
He comes gently towards our nest, and looks down on me with his
interesting, dark grey eyes; then he gets down on his knees, and
stretching out his forefinger he lightly strokes my head and wings,
saying as he does so--'Don't be frightened, birdie, I won't hurt you.'
I was scared at first, and jumped out and flew away; but I don't do
that now."
"Yes, we know our friends," chimed in Richard, "and Master George is
one of them."
The two birds went on speaking to each other this way in praise of the
kindly boy, and then the mother-bird said--
"Sing me another song, Richard; I never tire of hearing your voice.
Sing out, dear, with all your might, and make every one happy far and
near."
Richard was about to open his beak and fill the air with melody, when
his quick eye detected something among the grass. He uttered a sharp
note of warning, and the mother sparrow shrank close into the nest.
"The snake is coming," shouted Richard. But Jenny did not move, she
only kept flat and shuddered.
"Come from the nest, and we will mislead the reptile," cried Richard.
Then both birds flew around and at and over the snake, doing their
utmost to bewilder it; but it was no use--the cunning creature glided
on--it knew its helpless prey was near; and the poor parents were
frantic, as it raised its head and looked around.
* * * * *
"Mother," said George, as he looked into the garden through the open
window, "what can be wrong with our song-sparrows?"
His mother came forward, and seeing the birds fluttering about
excitedly, she said--
"Run, George, there is a cat or some other enemy at the nest."
Without a moment's delay the lad seized a cane, and running along the
garden-walk and jumping over flower-beds and bushes, he came to the
scene of the disturbance. He knew well where the nest was, and looking
to that spot he was horrified to see the snake bending over it with
arched neck and head, preparing to devour the helpless young
song-sparrows. Springing fearlessly forward like a hound, George smote
the snake on the head, and that one blow was enough. But grasping its
tail he jerked it back from the nest, and stamped upon its head, to
make sure that the life was gone. Then lifting it across his cane he
went to the fence, and flung it over in indignant disgust.
Oh, how the parent song-sparrows rejoiced. The mother flew to the nest
to examine and fondle her young, while the father-bird went up on the
twig of a white rose-bush and sang a rapturous song of deliverance.
"Ever since then the male sparrow has shown his gratitude to George in
a truly wonderful manner. When he goes into the garden the sparrow
will fly to him, sometimes alighting on his head, at other times on his
shoulder, all the while pouring out a tumultuous song of praise and
gratitude."
* * * * *
"How is it, Richard," said Jenny one day, "that nearly all these great
creatures called mankind look upon us as if we had very little
understanding in our head? Is it because we are so little and wear
feathers?"
"Oh, no, it is because our language is different. In fact, they really
think we do not speak at all, and it seems to them that where there is
no speech there is little or no thought."
"What language does Master George speak, Richard?"
"English, dear, a beautiful language when well spoken and especially
when well sung."
"And what language do we speak, Richard?"
Sloping his head a little to the side, Richard thought for a moment and
then replied with a funny twinkle in his eye--
"Our language is Song-Sparrowish."
"Dear me," said Jenny, "it must be greater than English, when it needs
such a big word. But Master George understands it, doesn't he?"
"He does indeed, he does, because he is well acquainted with us. I
overheard him say the other day that he understood our ways well, and
that our musical language and gratitude were to him a great delight."
"Here he comes," exclaimed Jenny. "See, he opens the garden-gate. I
do love to see his winsome, cheerful face."
"And he is both brave and kind," answered Richard, clearing his throat
and preparing to deliver an eloquent speech in Song-Sparrowish.
"Now raise your song of gratitude, dear, and sing your very best."
* * * * *
The above little story is founded on a fact recorded in the *_Courier
Journal_.
*A SONG-SPARROW'S GRATITUDE.
It is a rare occurrence for animals in a wild state to select man for a
companion and friend, yet well-authenticated instances where this has
been done are a matter of record. The following incident is vouched
for by a young lady who is a close and accurate observer:
"Last week my brother, a lad of 12, killed a snake which was just in
the act of robbing a song-sparrow's nest. Ever since then the male
sparrow has shown his gratitude to George in a truly wonderful manner.
When he goes into the garden the sparrow will fly to him, sometimes
alighting on his head, at other times on his shoulder, all the while
pouring out a tumultuous song of praise and gratitude. It will
accompany him about the garden, never leaving him until he reaches the
garden gate. George, as you know, is a quiet boy who loves animals,
and this may account in a degree for the sparrow's extraordinary
actions."--_Courier Journal_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairy School of Castle Frank, by Grant Balfour