had nothing to eat, and there would be a famine. He wisely thought that
if he could get some roots and slips of this Duck Tree, and plant them
along all the water courses, in a few years there would be ducks enough
for the very poorest family.
It was considered a very dangerous thing to take a voyage to these
savage islands, but Gutefundus decided he would do it.
And he did it. He met with some fearful adventures on the way, but,
after many weary months, he arrived at the Orkneys. And there, sure
enough, right before his eyes, was the wonderful Bird Tree! Its long
trunk stretched far out over the water. Its branches were loaded with
fruit. Some of this fruit was as close shut as an egg; but some of it
was splitting open, and the little ducks coming out. Some of the ducks
were just ready to drop into the water, and others had only a small
piece of bill stuck out of the egg. Hundreds had already fallen, and
were swimming gaily about.
[Illustration: THE BIRD TREE.]
The delighted Gutefundus plucked some of the fruit that had not yet
opened, and stored it away to take home to show to his countrymen. His
next proceeding was to take measures for introducing the culture of
bird-trees into his country. He concluded he would cut off some of the
smaller branches, and some little twigs, and would put some of their
native soil in tubs on the ship, and in these he would root his slips.
From these few slips bird-trees could be spread over the country in a
few years.
The task of choosing and cutting these slips he took upon himself, and
climbed the tree for that purpose. But, no sooner had he cut the first
little twig than he felt a great shudder running all through the tree.
It shook from top to bottom. The roots tore themselves loose from the
soil with such a wrench that the whole tree fell violently forward into
the water, and sank beneath the waves as if it were made of iron. The
ducks that were swimming around went down with it, and were seen no
more. Gutefundus, entangled in the branches, would inevitably have gone
down also with the tree, had he not caught fast hold of some sedges on
the shore, and, by a great effort, got his feet free from the branches.
He, and the ship’s company knew then that this was a magic tree. The
gathered fruit they had, was therefore accursed, and they immediately
threw it all overboard. On touching the water it burst with a great
explosion. They then sailed away from the spot as quickly as possible.
From that day to this there has never been another bird tree found
anywhere. And the poor people of Gutefundus’ country lived and died
without ever tasting tree-ducks.
His next expedition was the greatest of all the undertakings of
Gutefundus. Immense stores of gold, silver, and precious stones lay
buried in the rocks of certain caverns in the mountains. But men could
not go there to dig out the treasures, because the entrance to these
caverns was guarded by a terrible dragon. A few daring individuals had
ventured near this entrance, and, peeping in, had seen heaps of bones.
These, no doubt, were all that was left of men, who, in some previous
time had attempted to get the treasures. They even got a sight of the
dragon, and represented it as a gigantic creature, partly beast, partly
bird, and partly serpent.
These venturesome men were thankful to have escaped from the
neighborhood without going any nearer the cave; and, from that time,
no one had ever been within miles of it. But Gutefundus resolved that
these treasures should no longer lie there useless. Mankind should have
the benefit of them. Nobody believed he could conquer this dragon.
Nobody would accompany him on such a mad enterprise. It did seem like
going to certain death. Nevertheless Gutefundus made up his mind to do
it.
He set out alone. It took him three years to reach the forest that
surrounded the mountain, of which he was in search. He had passed
through strange countries, and had taken part in many a good fight, but
he arrived at the edge of the forest, a day’s journey only from the
caverns, well and in good spirits for the fight with the dragon.
But here something befell him more wonderful than all he had gone
through in his life.
Night was approaching, and he looked about for a resting-place. He
heard the tinkling sound of a little bell, and bent his steps in that
direction. It led him some distance into the forest to a small hut,
made of dried mud. A little wooden belfry was built upon this, and the
bell was ringing at the close of day. Gutefundus, believing it to be
the dwelling of some hermit, entered it to ask for a night’s lodging.
There was no one there, and he wondered by what contrivance the bell
rang itself. While waiting for the owner to appear, he stretched
himself upon a couch of dried moss; and, being very tired, he soon fell
asleep.
When he awoke, he started up, and looked around in surprise. He was
still alone. His clothes were in rags; his feet were bare, for his
shoes had fallen to pieces on the floor; the hut had crumbled until
it was only a shattered mound; the wooden belfry lay around in broken
bits; the little bell was half buried in the dried mud, by his side,
and was nearly eaten up with rust. This reminded him of his sword, and
he looked anxiously for it. He saw it directly, on the earthen floor
close by him. It had, evidently, just fallen out of the scabbard,
which, all full of rents, was still attached to his rusty belt.
The sword was as bright as ever. He remembered now that it was the
clattering it had made in falling that had awakened him. Just then the
gleam of something white crossed his eyes. It was his beard, grown
very long, and perfectly grey. He was conscious then that his head felt
cold. He clapped his hands there, and found he was bald!
He understood the whole matter now. He had been in a magic sleep! How
many years he had slept he could not guess. Maybe two or three hundred
years. Such instances were not so very uncommon. He recalled the names
of several great men, who had slept for a hundred years and more.
Some of them were sleeping still. It was clear that the dragon was a
magician, and had led him into the wood to put him into a magic sleep.
Gutefundus, upon this, arrived at two comfortable reflections. Firstly,
that the dragon was afraid of him, or it would not have sent this sleep
upon him; and, secondly, that it had no power over his trusty sword,
which was there by him unharmed. He took it up, felt the edge, and
found it sharp and keen.
He walked out of the wood, and sought the nearest town. His appearance
at first alarmed the people in the market place; but when he told who
he was, and on what errand he had come, and what had befallen him, they
received him with joy. They had heard all about him, but everybody
supposed he had been killed by the dragon twenty years before.
He had slept for twenty years! He went into the hut a man in the prime
of life. He came out of it an old, bald-headed man.
But he was as courageous as ever. The dragon, it appeared, was still
alive, and no mortal man dared go near the treasures he guarded. No one
would go with Gutefundus to attack the fearful beast. He could get no
kind of armor in the town; and no suit to wear except a blouse, and a
pair of baggy trowsers. Such was the costume of the place.
But he had his bright and trusty sword that had never yet failed him,
and he marched boldly into the wood again after the dragon.
He entered the cavern, and had proceeded unmolested for some distance,
when he heard a fearful roar, and out upon him rushed the dragon. It
stretched its beast’s body; opened its huge jaws; ran out its hissing,
serpent tongue; flapped loudly its bird’s wings; and curled its snake
tail.
[Illustration: THE DRAGON OF THE CAVERN.]
But Gutefundus stood his ground undaunted. He felt from the tips of his
toes to his bald crown that that serpent’s time had come. He swung his
sword on high. Up rushed the dragon; down came the sword, whack! and
cut the terrible head into two parts! The beast was stunned, but not
killed. Another stroke severed the body; and the third cut off its tail.
The dragon was dead, and the treasures thus became the property of
mankind.
Gutefundus contented himself with a small share of the spoils, and
passed the rest of his days quietly at home. He had been pretty much
all over the world; and, if he had not done good to everybody, he had
certainly taken some of the evil out of the earth.
I suppose none of my readers believe that these adventures actually
befell any man who ever lived upon the face of the earth. But I have
told you nothing that was not held to be true at the time Gutefundus
lived; and at a much later period too. Such wild legends were fully
credited, and not by ignorant people only. The three pictures I have
given in the story were drawn by the most learned men of that olden
time; and they had no doubt whatever of the existence of the Dragon,
the Sea Serpent, and the Bird Tree.
SOME BIG GUNS.
Ever since the invention of gunpowder, the men who have been devoting
their attention to the science of gunnery for purposes of war have been
making their cannon larger and larger.
[Illustration: A COLUMBIAD.]
This is not the case with the weapons that are carried by soldiers;
for our rifles and muskets are much smaller than those used by our
ancestors. A hundred or two years ago, the great flint-lock muskets
and blunderbusses were twice as large as the rifles now used, although
they did not carry a ball half the distance, or with any thing like the
accuracy of our improved arms.
But the cannon that used to be in fashion were but little things
compared to those of the present day.
You might put one of the old-fashioned cannon into one of our great
columbiads and fire it out of it instead of a ball.
And while the cannon have been growing larger and larger, the defenses
against cannon-shot are growing stronger and stronger.
Now our men-of-war are generally what are called “iron-clads.” The hull
is covered with immense plates of iron or steel, which it is almost
impossible to pierce with the heaviest balls or conical shot. And
the forts are so constructed that the great masses of metal that are
sometimes hurled against them in time of war seem to have but little
effect upon their massive sides. And so the competition between the
weapons of offense and the means of defense goes on. As the cannon
are made larger, the iron plates on the ships are made thicker and
stronger, and the forts are built with walls that are more massive and
more thoroughly ball-proof.
Which party will succeed in this contest it is impossible to say.
If walls and ships could be constructed that would be impervious to the
heaviest cannon balls, warfare would probably soon come to an end, for
if a nation could have such forts and such ships it would be useless
for any other nation to make attacks upon it.
And if cannon could be made that would send balls through the sides of
any iron-clad, or through the walls of any fortification, war would
probably soon cease, for no country could resist a hostile nation thus
armed.
Therefore it is almost to be hoped that one of these parties—the
manufacturers of great cannon or the builders of ships and forts will
so far surpass the other that the trials between them in time of war
will be considered useless.
But it seems very doubtful if a limit to the size and force of cannon,
and the strength of iron-clads and forts will soon be found.
[Illustration: THE GREAT CANNON OF MALTA.]
Although our cannon are so large, we hear stories of guns of the kind
that were very large and yet not at all modern.
It is said that the Knights of the island of Malta had a tremendous
cannon, which, when it was fired off, made everybody, even old gunners
stop their ears for fear that they would be deafened by the terrific
noise.
And the Chinese, who certainly invented gunpowder long before we
thought of it, have a tradition that their country once possessed a
most enormous cannon. It was constructed of pieces that were fastened
together by great bands, like the hoops on our barrels and casks.
It is said that this enormous cannon, the bore of which was so large
that you might sleep inside of it if you felt sure it was not to be
used before you came out, was never fired but once, and the inhabitants
of the locality where it stood (or still stands, for all I know,)
believe that the ball is flying yet.
It would certainly be unpleasant if any of us happened to be taking a
walk through a pleasant country, to meet this ball so suddenly that
there would be no time to turn out for it.
But one of our great American guns, that carry a five-hundred pound
ball for five or six miles, would certainly be able to knock this
Chinese cannon into a thousand splinters, if it could but once get a
fair crack at it.
I wonder what the ancients, with their battering rams, and catapults,
and javelins, and slings, and arrows, would have thought, if an
American field-battery had opened upon one of their bravest armies.
In that case I think that even Achilles would have thought it as
necessary to take the same care of his whole body as he had before
taken of his heel—which you remember was the only part of him that was
vulnerable to the weapons of that day.
TOM REYNOLDS AND MORIYAMA.
“Fun,” exclaimed Tom Reynolds, “You couldn’t have more fun than I had.
No boy could stand it.”
This was said to a boy-friend after Tom had come home from Japan.
And Tom was right. He had had a splendid time.
Tom Reynolds was an American boy, whose father was engaged in business
which made it necessary for him to visit Yokohama in Japan. It is
probable that he would not have thought of taking Tom with him on this
trip if it had not been for Moriyama. This yellow youth put the idea
into Tom’s head, and Tom, who was as good a talker as he was a walker,
which is saying a great deal, managed to convince his father that
nothing would be of as great advantage to him as a journey to Japan.
School was nothing to a trip like this, Tom argued, and he argued so
much that the end of it was he went to Japan.
Moriyama was a Japanese boy, and a first-rate fellow. He was one of the
many Japanese youths who came to America to be educated, and he went to
Tom’s school.
There these two boys became great friends. Moriyama was a very quick,
bright youth. He could speak English very well, and he was rather
better at English grammar than most of the other fellows in that
school. The other fellows explained this by saying that Moriyama didn’t
know anything about our grammar except what he had learned from books,
and of course the books were right. But they had learned their grammar
from all sorts of people, ever since they were little bits of chaps.
And so they had learned all sorts of grammar, and had a good deal to
unlearn when they came to the school.
But the fact was that Moriyama was as thoroughly in earnest about his
studies as most boys are about base-ball. So it was no wonder that he
succeeded.
He was not a large boy nor was he very young. As Tom put it, he was
a good deal smaller than he was young. There were plenty of fellows
in the school who could have whipped him, if they had wanted to, but
they didn’t want to, for two reasons. He was a quiet, obliging boy,
who seldom offended any one, and if any one had tried to whip him they
would first have had to whip Tom Reynolds, which was no easy job. Tom
had a fist as heavy as one end of a dumb-bell, and the muscles on his
arms swelled up a good deal like the other end of a dumb-bell.
[Illustration: FUSI-YAMA.]
Moriyama’s time at school was up, and he had to go to Japan. Tom’s
time wasn’t up, but he promised to study ever so hard when he came
back—with his mind improved by travel—and so the three of them, Tom,
Tom’s father, and Moriyama, sailed for Yokohama.
This story will not be long enough for me to tell anything about the
journey—how they sailed from New York to Aspinwall, and went across
the Isthmus of Panama by railroad, and then took another steamship and
crossed the Pacific Ocean; and how, at last they steamed up the bay
of Yedo, and saw towering up to the sky, the great extinct volcano,
Fusi-yama, the sacred mountain of Japan.
I cannot even tell about their landing at Yokohama, nor even very
much about Tom’s adventures in Japan, but I can give you some of his
experiences, and if you ever meet him, he can tell you the rest. And he
will be very apt to do it, too, if you are the right kind of a boy or
girl, for Tom is a great talker, and very sociable.
When they arrived at Yokohama Tom’s father took lodgings for himself
and his son at the house of an American merchant in the town, but
Moriyama went into the country where his family lived.
Of course it was very natural that he should want to see his father and
mother, and brothers and sisters, but Tom could not help feeling sorry
about it. It would have been such a capital thing to have had Moriyama
to take him around at the very beginning of his visit, and tell him
about all the curious things he saw.
But Tom had to do his sight-seeing pretty much by himself, at first,
for his father was very busy, and the Americans that he met did not
have much time to go about with a boy.
But Tom was not a bad fellow to take care of himself, and as his father
engaged for him a horse and a _betto_, as a man who attends horses in
Japan is called, he had every opportunity of going about as much as he
wanted to.
When Tom’s horse was brought out for him the first time there were two
bettos in attendance. One of them had clothes enough on, but the other
one looked as if he were just ready to take a swim.
[Illustration: JAPANESE BETTOS.]
This fellow was the one who accompanied Tom wherever he went. He was
a good-natured man and very ready to talk, and if Tom could have
understood a word he said, he might have been very interesting.
But they got along capitally together, and Tom rode about Yokohama all
day, and came home at night, and asked questions of his father. In this
way he got some information about the things he had seen, but in many
cases he had to make up theories of his own about things. And some very
curious theories he made.
There was a porter who had a lodge at the door of the house where they
lived, and he used to strike on a gong every time any one entered.
Sometimes he struck once, and sometimes two or three times, and Tom
could not imagine what he did it for. He might have asked his father
about this, but he made up his mind that he would find it out for
himself.
You must not suppose that Tom’s father was not a good-natured man, or
that he objected to giving information to his son. But the truth was
that Mr. Reynolds was not only very busy all day, and very often at
night, with his merchant friends, but he did not know a great deal
about Japanese life himself.
As soon as he had got through with the most pressing part of his
business, he intended to go about and see Japan. He had never been
there before.
At first Tom thought that when he heard one crack on the gong it meant
that that was the first time he had come in. But when he heard only one
stroke the second and the third time, while some other people got two
taps the first time they came, he knew that this must be a mistake.
Before he found out what these taps really meant Moriyama returned to
town. Tom greeted him heartily enough, and as they went into the house
together that morning the porter struck, first two taps, then one.
“What is that banging for?” cried Tom. “I’ve been trying to find out
ever so long, but it’s too much for me.”
“Why two taps are for me and one is for you,” said Moriyama.
“How’s that?”
“He taps once for a citizen or a merchant,” said Moriyama, “and twice
for an officer or an interpreter—I didn’t tell you I had been appointed
an interpreter since I returned—and for a governor or a consul he’d
strike three times, and four times for an admiral or higher officer.”
“Once for me and twice for you,” said Tom. “What a fool the man must
be!”
“He does what he has to do, according to our laws,” said Moriyama.
“But anybody ought to know better than that,” cried Tom. “Look here!
I’m going to talk to him and then you can interpret what I say, Mr.
Two-taps.”
So Tom stepped up to the porter and remarked:
“I say old shaven head——how many bangs would he give for the Prince of
Wales, Moriyama?”
“Four, I think.”
“Well then, old fellow, princes belong to the set that they take kings
from, and I belong to the set that they take presidents from, and so
we’re even, and I want you to pound four times every time I come in the
house. Do you hear that? Tell him it, upside down, Moriyama.”
Moriyama, who was laughing at this speech, said something to the porter
in Japanese, but I do not think that he translated Tom’s words.
But Tom never got but one bang when he came in, though he used to shake
his fist at the porter every time he heard it.
Moriyama was very anxious that Tom should visit Yedo with him, and so
after a few days spent in further sight-seeing in Yokohama, the two
friends set off for the metropolis of Japan.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO A JAPANESE TAVERN.]
They traveled on horseback accompanied by their bettos and other
servants. They rode along the Tokaido, or great highway of Japan, and
they were by no means the only travelers, for the road was crowded with
foot passengers, men on horseback, and people in palanquins. The whole
road was one lively scene, and to Tom it was a very interesting one.
And the best of it was, that there was nothing, no matter how curious
or outlandish, that Moriyama could not explain to him.
They stopped on the way at a tavern, which was rather different from
anything of the kind that Tom had ever imagined.
When they reached the door they found a group of three or four persons
examining the goods of a man who seemed to be a peddler. He was very
anxious that his goods—and he did not seem to have many of them—should
be appreciated, and the bystanders were quietly and earnestly listening
to what he had to say.
But no one took notice of the newly arrived party.
After a little while, the landlord made his appearance, and though he
seemed glad to see them, and brought them a few eggs and some other
trifling refreshments, he soon went away again, and they saw no more of
him until several hours later when they took their leave.
But their own servants cooked them a good dinner of things they had
with them, and seemed to make themselves perfectly at home in the
household of the tavern.
Tom said it was a good deal like working your passage on a ship, but
Moriyama could see no objection to it. He was sure, he said, that he
would rather be waited on by his own servants than by any one likely
to be found at a roadside tavern, and he was sure their own provisions
were better than anything likely to be found there.
This was all true enough, but Tom could not help thinking what a row
would be kicked up in an American tavern, no matter how small and mean
it might be, if the guests brought their own provisions, and cooked
them in the tavern kitchen.
They stopped at other places, at one tea-house in particular, where
there were plenty of waiters, plenty of guests, and a very great plenty
of tea.
They were two days on the road, although the distance was only about
thirty miles.
It is impossible to tell one half that these two boys did and saw in
Yedo.
They saw all sorts of shops, with curious signs, tea-houses thronged
with customers; people at work at various trades—in workshops that
were entirely exposed to the view of passers-by, and almost everything
arranged in a different way from what Tom thought was right and proper.
[Illustration: JAPANESE BLACKSMITHS.]
Here were a couple of blacksmiths with scarcely a stitch of clothes
on, sitting down to their work, and one of them blowing the bellows
with his heel.
[Illustration: LITTLE JUGGLERS IN STREETS OF YEDO.]
Then they came upon a troupe of boy-jugglers directed by a man who sang
horribly sounding words in a rasping voice, while he played upon a
tambourine with two drum-sticks.
The boys’ heads were stuck into bags surmounted by hideous masks, and
as they twisted themselves into all sorts of distorted positions, one
of them standing on his hands on the stomach of another, who leaned
backwards until his hands touched the ground, Tom thought they would
certainly dislocate their spines.
He had turned many a handspring, and was quite expert on the horizontal
bar at the gymnasium, but he never saw such body-twisting as this.
[Illustration: JAPANESE SOLDIER.]
He would have watched these boys as long as they chose to perform, if
Moriyama had not forced him away to look at other things.