have," said Ash-ie-pat-tle.
"No, I cannot let you go," said his father; "I shall lose you as well."
But Ash-ie-pat-tle would go, and he begged and prayed till the king
gave him leave to go. The king had no other horse to give him but an
old jade, for his six brothers and their men had taken all the other
horses, but Ash-ie-pat-tle did not mind that; he mounted the shabby
old nag.
"Good-bye, father," said he to the king, "I shall come back, sure
enough, and who knows but I shall have my six brothers with me as
well," and off he started.
Well, when he had got a bit on his way, he came to a raven, which was
lying in the road flapping his wings, and was unable to get out of his
way, it was so famished. "Oh, dear friend, give me something to eat,
and I will help you in your utmost need," said the raven.--"very little
food have I," said the prince, "and you don't look as if you could help
me much either, but a little I must give you for you want it badly, I
see," and then he gave the raven some of the food he had with him.
When he had traveled some distance further he came to a stream. There
he saw a big salmon, which had got ashore and was dashing and knocking
itself about and could not get into the water again, "Oh, dear friend,
help me into the water again," said the salmon to the prince, "and I
will help you in your utmost need."--"I don't suppose it can be much of
a help you can give me," said the prince, "but it is a pity you should
lie there and very likely perish," so he shoved the fish into the
stream again.
So he traveled a long, long way, till he met a wolf, which was so
famished that he was only able to drag himself along the road. "Dear
friend, give me your horse," said the wolf. "I am so hungry, I hear the
wind whistling in my empty stomach. I have had nothing to eat for two
years."
"No," said Ash-ie-pat-tle, "I can't do it; first I came to a raven
which I had to give all my food to; then I came to a salmon which I had
to help back into the water; and now you want my horse. But that is
impossible, for then I should have nothing to ride upon."
"Yes, yes, my friend, but you must help me," said the wolf, "you can
ride on me instead; I shall help you again in your utmost need."
"Well, the help you can give me will not be great; but I suppose you
must have the horse then, since you are so needy," said the prince. And
when the wolf had finished the horse Ash-ie-pat-tle took the bridle and
put the bit in the wolf's mouth and the saddle on his back, and the
wolf felt now so strong and well after what he had had to eat, that he
set off with the prince as if he were nothing at all; Ash-ie-pat-tle
had never ridden so fast before.
"When we get a little bit further I will show you a giant's castle,"
said the wolf, and in a little while they came there. "See, here is
the giant's castle," said the wolf again, "and there you see all your
six brothers, whom the giant has turned into stone, and there are their
six brides. Over yonder is the door of the castle, and you must go in
there."
"I dare not," said the prince, "the giant will kill me."
"Not at all," answered the wolf; "when you go in there you will meet
a princess. She will tell you what to do to make an end of the giant.
Only do as she tells you."
Well, Ash-ie-pat-tle went into the castle, but to tell the truth he
felt rather afraid. When he got inside, he found the giant was out; but
in a chamber sat the princess, just as the wolf had said. Such a lovely
maiden Ash-ie-pat-tle had never seen before.
"Good heavens! what has brought you here?" said the princess as soon
as she saw him. "It's sure to be your death; no one can kill the giant
who lives here, for he hasn't got any heart."--"But now when I am here,
I suppose I had better try my strength with him," said Ash-ie-pat-tle,
"and I must see if I can't release my brothers who are standing outside
here, turned into stone, and I will try to save you as well."
"Well, since you will stop, we must try and do the best we can," said
the princess. "You must creep under the bed over there and listen well
to what he says when I speak with him, and be sure to lie as quiet as
you can."
So Ash-ie-pat-tle crept under the bed, and no sooner had he done so
than the giant came home. "Ugh, what a smell of Christian blood there
is here," shouted the giant.--"Yes, a magpie flew over the house with
a man's bone and let it fall down the chimney," said the princess; "I
made haste to throw it out, but the smell doesn't go away so soon."
So the giant said no more about it, and when evening came, they went to
bed. When they had lain awhile, the princess said: "There is one thing
I wanted so very much to ask you about, if I only dared."
"Well, what can that be?" asked the giant.
"I should so like to know where your heart is, since you don't carry it
about you," said the princess.
"Oh, that's a thing you needn't know anything about," said the
giant, "but if you must know, it's under the stone slab in front of
the door."--"Ah, ha! we shall soon see if we can't find that," said
Ash-ie-pat-tle to himself under the bed.
Next morning the giant got up very early and set out for the wood, but
no sooner was he out of sight than Ash-ie-pat-tle and the princess
commenced looking for the heart under the door-slab, but although they
dug and searched all they could, they could not find anything. "He has
made a fool of me this time," said the princess; "but I must try him
again." So she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find and
strewed them over the door-slab, which they put in its right place
again.
When the time came for the giant to return home, Ash-ie-pat-tle crept
under the bed, and he had scarcely got well under before the giant came
in. "Ugh, what a smell of Christian blood there is here," screamed the
giant.--"Yes, a magpie flew over the house and dropped a man's bone
down the chimney," said the princess; "I made haste to clear it away,
but I suppose the smell hasn't gone away yet."
So the giant said no more about it, but in a little while he asked who
it was that had been strewing flowers around the door-slab. "Why, I, of
course," said the princess.--"And what's the meaning of it?" asked the
giant.--"Well, you know I am so fond of you," said the princess, "that
I couldn't help doing it when I knew that your heart was lying under
there."--"Ah, indeed," said the giant, "but it isn't there after all."
When they had gone to bed in the evening, the princess asked again
where his heart was, because she was so very fond of him, she said,
that she would so like to know it. "Oh, it's over in the cupboard on
the wall there," said the giant. Ah, ha, thought both Ash-ie-pat-tle
and the princess, we will soon try to find it.
Next morning the giant was early out of bed, and made for the wood
again, but the moment he was gone Ash-ie-pat-tle and the princess were
looking in the cupboard for the heart, but they looked and searched and
found no heart.
"Well, we must try once more," said the princess. She hung flowers and
garlands around the cupboard, and when the evening came Ash-ie-pat-tle
crept under the bed again. Shortly the giant came in. "Ugh, Ugh!" he
roared, "what a smell of Christian blood there is here."--"Yes, a magpie
flew past here just now, and dropped a man's bone down the chimney,"
said the princess; "I made haste to throw it out, but I suppose that's
what you still smell."
When the giant heard this, he said no more about it; but as soon as he
saw the cupboard decked out with flowers and garlands, he asked who it
was that had done that. It was the princess, of course.
[Illustration: ASH-IE-PAT-TLE'S PRINCESS.]
"But what's the meaning of all this foolery?" asked the giant.
"Well, you know how fond I am of you," said the princess, "I couldn't
help doing it, when I knew your heart was there."
"How can you be so foolish to believe it?" said the giant.--"Well, how
can I help believing it when you say so?" answered the princess.--"Oh,
you are a foolish creature," said the giant, "you can never go where my
heart is!"
"Ah, well," said the princess.--"but I should like to know for all that
where it is."--So the giant could not refuse to tell her any longer,
and he said: "Far, far away in a lake lies an island,--on that island
stands a church,--in that church there is a well,--in that well swims a
duck,--in that duck there is an egg,--and in the egg--well, there is my
heart."
Early next morning, almost before the dawn of day, the giant set out
for the wood again. "Well, I suppose I had better start as well," said
Ash-ie-pat-tle; "I wish I only knew the way!"
He said farewell to the princess for a time, and when he came outside
the castle there was the wolf still waiting for him. He told the wolf
what had happened inside, and that he was now going to set out for the
well in the church, if he only knew the way. The wolf asked him to jump
on his back,--he would try and find the way, sure enough, he said, and
away they went over hills and mountains, over fields and valleys, while
the wind whistled about them.
When they had traveled many, many days, they came at last to the lake.
The prince did not know how he should get across it; but the wolf asked
him only not to be afraid, and then he plunged into the water with the
prince on his back and swam across to the island.
When they came to the church, they found the key for the church-door
hanging high, high up on the steeple, and at first the young prince did
not know how to get hold of it. "You will have to call the raven," said
the wolf, which the prince did. The raven came at once, and flew up for
the key, and so the prince got inside the church.
When he came to the well, the duck was there sure enough. It was
swimming about just as the giant had said. He commenced calling and
calling, and at last he lured her up to him and caught her. But just
as he was lifting her out of the water, the duck let the egg fall in
the well; and Ash-ie-pat-tle didn't know how to get it up again. "You
had better call the salmon," said the wolf, which the prince did. The
salmon came and fetched the egg from the bottom of the well.
The wolf then told him to squeeze the egg, and as soon as
Ash-ie-pat-tle squeezed it, they heard the giant screaming. "Squeeze
it once more," said the wolf, and when the prince did so, the giant
screamed still more piteously, and prayed so nicely and gently for
himself; he would do all the prince wished, if he only wouldn't squeeze
his heart to pieces.
"Tell him, that if he will give you back again alive your six brothers
and their brides, which he turned into stone, you will spare his life,"
said the wolf, and Ash-ie-pat-tle did so.
Yes, the giant would do that at once, and he restored the six princes
and the six princesses to life.--"Now, squeeze the egg to pieces," said
the wolf. Ash-ie-pat-tle squeezed it flat between his hands, and the
giant burst.
So when Ash-ie-pat-tle had got rid of the giant, he rode back again on
his friend, the wolf, to the giant's castle, and there stood all his
six brothers and their brides, all alive, and then Ash-ie-pat-tle went
into the mountain for his own bride, and they all set out for their
home, the royal palace. The old king was pleased, I can tell you, when
all his seven sons came back, each with his bride. "But the loveliest
of all the princesses is Ash-ie-pat-tle's bride after all," said the
king, "and he shall sit at the top of the table with her."
And then the wedding came off, and the king gave a grand feast which
lasted for many a day, and if they have not done feasting by this, why
they are still at it.
[Footnote 1: The favorite hero of most Norwegian fairy tales is called
"Askeladen," a sort of male "Cinderella" and is always the youngest
son of the family.]
[Illustration]
There is beauty in the forest,
When the trees are green and fair;
There is beauty in the meadow,
Where wild flowers scent the air;
There is beauty in the sunlight,
And the soft, blue beam above:
Oh, the world is full of beauty
When the heart is full of love!
W. L. SMITH.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
BREAD ON THE WATERS.
GEORGE L. CATLIN.
"Mister," the little fellow said,
"_Please_ give me a dime to buy some bread."
I turned to look at the ragged form,
That, in the midst of the pitiless storm,
Pinched, and haggard, and old with care,
In accents pleading, was standing there.
'Twas a little boy not twelve years old;
He shivered and shook in the bitter cold,
His eyes were red--with weeping, I fear--
And adown his cheeks there rolled a tear
E'en then.
His misery struck me dumb;
'Twas a street in a crowded city slum,
Where an errand of duty led my feet
That day, through the storm and blinding sleet.
"Poor little fellow!" at last I said,
"Have you no father?"
"No, he's dead!"
The answer came; "You've a mother, then?"
"Yes, sir," he said, with a sob; "She's been
Sick for a year, and the doctor said
She'd never again get up from bed."
"You are hungry, too!" I asked in pain,
As I looked at his poor, wan face again.
"Hungry," he said, with a bitter groan
That would melt to pity a heart of stone;
"I am starved; we are all starving," he said,
"We haven't had a crust of bread--Me,
nor mother, nor baby Kate--Since
yesterday morning."
I did not wait
To ask him more. "Come, come!" I cried,
"You shall not hunger;" and at my side
His poor little pattering footsteps fell
On my ear with a sadness I cannot tell;
But his eyes beamed bright when he saw me stop
Before the door of a baker's shop,
And we entered.
"Now eat away, my boy,
As much as you like," I said. With joy,
And a soft expression of childish grace,
He looked up into my friendly face,
And sobbed, as he strove to hide a tear:
"Oh, if mother and baby Kate were here!"
"But eat," said I, "never mind them now,"
A thoughtful look stole over his brow,
And lo! from his face the joy had fled.
"What! while they're at home!" he said;
"Oh, no, sir! I'm hungry, indeed, 'tis true.
But I cannot eat till they've had some too."
The tears came rushing--I can't tell why--
To my eyes, as he spoke these words. Said I:
"God bless you! here, you brave little man,
Here, carry home all the bread you can."
Then I loaded him down with loaves, until
He could carry no more. I paid the bill;
And before he could quite understand
Just what I was doing, into his hand
I slipped a bright, new dollar; then said,
"Good-bye," and away on my journey sped.
'Twas four years ago. But one day last May,
As I wandered by chance through East Broadway,
A cheery voice accosted me. Lo!
'Twas the self-same lad of years ago,
Though larger grown--and his looks, in truth,
Bespoke a sober, industrious youth.
"Mister," he said, "I'll never forget
The kindness you showed when last we met.
I work at a trade, and mother is well,
So is baby Kate; and I want to tell
You this--that we owe it all to you.
'Twas you--don't blush, sir--that helped us through
In our darkest hour; and we always say
Our luck has been better since that day
When you sent me home with bread to feed
Those starving ones in their hour of need."
[Illustration]
We should make the same use of books that the bee does of a flower: he
gathers sweets from it, but does not injure it.
[Illustration]
A little spring had lost its way
Amid the grass and fern;
A passing stranger scooped a well,
Where weary men might turn;
He walled it in, and hung with care,
A ladle at the brink;
He thought not of the deed he did,
But judged that toil might drink.
He passed again, and lo! the well,
By summers never dried,
Had cooled a thousand parched tongues,
And saved a life beside.--ANON.
[Illustration]
AND oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere,
A boon, an offering heaven holds dear,
'Tis the last libation Liberty draws
From the heart that bleeds, and breaks in her cause!
THOMAS MOORE: "LALLA ROOKH."
[Illustration]
HOW BAYARD SHOT THE BEAR.
It was a hot summer day and Bayard was tired of playing horse with
Ethel, or of swinging in the hammock; so he thought he would take a
stroll in the fields back of the house, and, perhaps, go down as far as
the creek. So he took his gun and started off.
Why he took the gun, Bayard himself could hardly have told; yet it was
lucky he did take it, as we shall presently see.
The sun's rays were so scorching, and he got so warm walking, that when
he arrived at the creek he thought he would lie down and rest. How cool
it was under the trees, and how still it seemed! Not a sound was heard
save the twittering of the birds, the babbling of the water over the
stones, and the sound of the cow-bells in the neighboring pasture.
[Illustration: "LOST."]
How Bayard wished he could see something to shoot. To be sure there
were the birds; but they looked so happy and sang so sweetly, that it
seemed a pity to kill them, and then--they were so common! Anyone could
shoot a bird, a squirrel, or a rabbit. Bayard wanted game of a larger
kind. He would never waste powder on a bird. No, indeed!
Oh! if he were only in a country where there were plenty of lions and
tigers! But then, he wasn't; yet he had heard his father tell about
seeing bears in that neighborhood, and might be there was one roaming
around even then.
What if one should come out of the woods! Wouldn't he kill it, though!
The bear would be dead in less time than it takes to tell it. To doubt
that would be rank heresy.
Halloa! What was that! Only a twig snapping. There it is again! Twig
snaps some more,--heavy body. Bushes move! See there! See that brown
thing! What's that, that gleams so,--eyes?
It--it's--a bear!
Sure enough,--just what Bayard has been wanting to see. Old Bruin comes
out from the bushes and sniffs around.
Bayard's heart beats fast, and he trembles; but not from fear. Oh, no!
Perish the man who would suggest such a thing.
Bruin sees Bayard and shows his teeth.
Bayard picks up his gun. Bear growls, and stands upon his hind legs.
Bayard raises his gun to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. Bear
comes nearer.
Bayard aims. Bang!
Has he killed it? Smoke clears away. No, the bear is still there; and
he is thoroughly angry, too. Perhaps some of the shot has lodged in his
side.
Bear utters a loud growl, and springs forward. Bayard now thoroughly
frightened; but too much excited to run.
Bang! bang! Another shot.
Bear nearer; and now he has Bayard in his claws. Tight,--tighter, the
bear hugs him,--Oh, dear!
Bayard can't get away! Can't breathe! Almost dead! Oh! Oh! Help! Help!
"Bayard!" "Bayard!"
What was that?
Bayard starts up; rubs his eyes, yawns; stretches; yawns again.
What! Has he been asleep? Yes, for there he is, safe and sound, his
gun on the grass, no bear in sight; and his mother is calling him to
dinner.
And that is how Bayard shot the bear!
Indeed, he couldn't have shot it otherwise with his gun, for, don't you
see, it was only a toy gun which Cousin Guy had given him as a birthday
present.
[Illustration]
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
PHILIP JAMES BAILEY: "FESTUS."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
NEW YEAR'S EVE.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new;
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land;
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
EAST OF THE SUN AND WEST OF THE MOON.
P. C. ASBJORNSEN.
There was once a poor tenant who had many children, but very little
food or clothes to give them; they were all pretty children, but the
prettiest was the youngest daughter, who was so lovely that there was
almost too much of her loveliness.
So one Thursday evening, late in the autumn, when there was terrible
weather and it was dreadfully dark out of doors, and it rained and blew
as well till the wall creaked, they were all sitting by the hearth busy
with something or other. All at once some one knocked three times on
the window-pane. The good-man went out to see what was the matter; when
he came outside he saw a great big white bear.
"Good evening!" said the white bear.
"Good evening!" said the man.
"Will you give me your youngest daughter, and I will make you as rich
as you now are poor," said the bear.
Yes; the man thought it would be very nice to be so rich, but he must
speak with his daughter first; so he went in and told her that a great
white bear was outside, who promised that he would make them all rich
if he could only get her. She said "No," and would not agree to any
such arrangement; so the man went out and arranged with the white bear
that he should come again next Thursday evening for an answer.
In the meantime they talked her round, and told her of all the riches
they would come in possession of, and how fine she herself would have
it in her new home; so at last she gave in to their entreaties and
began washing and mending her few rags and made herself look as well
as she could, and was at last ready for the journey. Her baggage of
course, was not much to speak of.
Next Thursday evening the white bear came to fetch her; she got up
on his back with her bundle, and away they went. When they had gone
some distance the white bear said: "Are you afraid?"--No, she wasn't
afraid.--"Well, only hold tight by my coat and there's no danger," said
the bear.
And so she rode far, far away, and came at last to a big mountain. The
white bear knocked at it and a gate was opened, and they came into a
castle where there were a great many rooms all lit up and gleaming with
silver and gold, and amongst these was a great hall, where a table
stood ready laid; in fact, all was so grand and splendid that you would
not believe it unless you saw it. So the white bear gave her a silver
bell, which she was to ring whenever there was anything she wanted, and
her wishes would be attended to at once.
Well, when she had eaten, it was getting late in the evening, and she
became sleepy after the journey so she thought she would like to go to
bed. She rang the bell, and had scarcely touched it, before she was in
a room, where she found such a beautiful bed as anyone could wish for,
with silken pillows and curtains, and gold fringes; everything else in
the room was made of gold and silver. But when she had gone to bed and
put out the light, she heard someone coming into the room and sitting
down in the big arm-chair near the bed. It was the white bear, who at
night could throw off his shape, and she could hear by his snoring as
he sat in the chair that he was now in the shape of a man; but she
never saw him, because he always came after she had put out the light,
and in the morning before the day dawned he was gone.
Well, for awhile everything went on happily, but then she began to be
silent and sorrowful, for she went about all day alone, and no wonder
she longed to be home with her parents and her sisters and brothers
again. When the white bear asked what ailed her, she said she was so
lonely there, she walked about all alone, and longed for her home and
her parents and brothers and sisters, and that was the reason she was
so sad.
"But you may visit them, if you like," said the white bear, "if you
will only promise me one thing. You must never talk alone with your
mother, but only when there are others in the room. She will take you
by the hand and try to lead you into a room to speak with you all by
yourself; but you must not do this by any means, or you will make us
both unhappy, and bring misfortune over us."
One Sunday the white bear came and told her that they were now going
to see her parents. Away they went, she sitting on his back, and they
traveled far and long; at last they came to a grand white farm-house,
where her sisters and brothers were running about. Everything was so
pretty that it was a pleasure to see it.