outrage to turn her out of her father's house while he was away on a
journey, but the thought came to her that she could hardly be less
happy living alone in the woods.
She had only time to snatch her pretty red slippers, and as soon as
she was out of sight of the house she put them on. It made her feel
less miserable. The sun was now rising and when its rays shone on her
she began to sing. With her old friends, the birds, twittering all
about her, she felt quite happy.
On and on she walked, much farther into the woods than ever before.
When she grew tired there was always a pleasant shady nook where she
could rest; when she became hungry, there were fruit trees in
abundance; and when she was thirsty she always came to a spring of
clear, fresh water. The magic slippers guided her. All day long she
wandered, and when toward evening she noticed her slippers were muddy
she took them off to clean. And then darkness fell. It began to rain
and she grew frightened. She crouched under a tree until she noticed a
light some short distance away. She got up and walked toward it.
When quite close, she saw that the light came from a cave dwelling. An
old woman came out to meet her. It was her grandmother, but so many
years had passed that Rosy-red did not recognize her. Granny, however,
at once knew her. "Come in, my child, and take shelter from the rain,"
she said kindly, and Rosy-red was only too glad to accept the
invitation.
The inside of the cave was quite cosy, and Rosy-red, who was almost
completely exhausted, quickly fell fast asleep. She awoke with a
start.
"My pretty red slippers," she cried. "Where are they?"
She put her hand in the pocket of her tattered dress, but could only
find one.
"I must have lost the other," she sobbed. "I must go out and look for
it."
"No, no," said granny. "You cannot do that. A storm is raging."
Rosy-red peered out through the door of the cave and drew back in fear
as she saw the lightning flash and heard the thunder rolling. She
sobbed herself to sleep again, and this time was awakened by voices.
She feared it might be her sisters who had discovered her hiding place
and had come to drag her forcibly back home again. So she crept into a
corner of the cave and listened intently.
A man was speaking.
"Know you to whom this red slipper belongs?" he was asking. "I found
it in the woods."
Rosy-red was on the point of rushing out to regain her lost slipper
when her granny's voice--very loud on purpose that she should
hear--restrained her.
"No, no, I know not," she repeated again and again, and at length the
man departed.
Granny came back into the cave and said, "I am sorry, Rosy-red, but
for aught I knew, he might be a messenger from your cruel sisters;
and, of course, I cannot let anyone take you back to them."
Next day, the man called again, this time with several attendants.
Again, Rosy-red concealed herself.
"I am a chieftain's son, and wealthy," said the man. "I must find the
wearer of this shoe. Only a graceful and beautiful girl can wear such
a dainty slipper."
Rosy-red did not know whether to be more frightened or pleased, when
her granny told her the man was very handsome and of noble bearing.
Day after day he came, each time with more retainers, and, finally, he
arrived mounted on a richly caparisoned camel with a hundred and one
followers, all mounted as he was.
"The girl I seek is here," he said. "Deny it no longer. My servants
have scoured the woods and the whole neighborhood. One is prepared to
swear he heard a young girl singing yesterday."
Rosy-red saw that concealment was no longer possible. She liked the
man's voice, and she stepped out bravely, wearing her one slipper.
The stranger, bowing low before her, held out the other, and Rosy-red
took it and put it on. It fitted perfectly.
"Many girls have tried to put on that shoe," said the young man, "but
all have failed. And I have sworn to make the wearer my bride. I am a
chieftain's son, and thou shalt be a princess."
So Rosy-red left the cave with her granny, and mounting a camel was
led through the woods to her new home where she knew naught but
happiness and the days of her sufferings were quite forgotten. And
always she wore her magic red slippers.
The Star-Child
When Abraham was born, his father, Terah, who was one of the chief
officers of King Nimrod, gave a banquet to a large number of his
friends. He entertained them most sumptuously, and the merriest of the
guests was the chief of the king's magicians. He was an old man,
exceedingly fond of wine, and he drank deeply. The feast lasted
throughout the night, and the gray dawn of early morning appeared in
the sky before Terah's friends thought of rising from the table.
Suddenly the old magician jumped to his feet.
"See," he cried, excitedly, pointing through the open door to the sky.
"See yon bright star in the east. It flashes across the heavens."
The others looked, but said they could see nothing.
"Fools," shouted the old man, "ye may not see, but I do. I, the wisest
of the king's magicians and astrologers, tell you it is an omen. See
how the brilliant star darts across the sky! It has swallowed a
smaller star, and another, even a third, yet a fourth. It is an omen,
I say, a portent that bodes ill. And, moreover," he added, growing
still more excited, "it is an omen connected with the birth of the
little son of Terah."
[Illustration: "The big fellow here got angry, beat the others
and smashed them to bits." (_Page 95_).]
"Nonsense," cried Terah.
"Talk not to me of nonsense," said the magician, sternly. "I must
hasten to inform the king."
Hurriedly he left the house of Terah, followed by the other magicians,
some of whom now said they also had seen a star swallow four others.
They did not think it wise to contradict their chief, although he had
drunk a great deal of wine and could not walk steadily.
King Nimrod was awakened from his sleep, and his magicians appeared
before him.
"O King, live for ever," said the chief, by way of salute. "Grave
indeed is the news that has led us to disturb thee in thy slumbers.
This night a son has been born unto thy officer, Terah, and with the
coming of the dawn a warning has appeared to us in the skies. I, the
chief of thy magicians, did observe a brilliant star rise in the east
and dart across the heavens and swallow four smaller stars."
"We observed it, too," said the other magicians.
"And what means this?" inquired the king.
"It means," said the chief magician, mysteriously, "that this
star-child will destroy other children, that his descendants will
conquer thine. Take warning. Purchase this child from thy officer,
Terah, and slay it so that it may not grow up a danger to thee."
"Thy advice pleases me," said the cruel king.
In vain Terah protested. King Nimrod would not disregard the warning
of his magicians, but he consented to give Terah three days in which
to deliver up the child. Sad at heart Terah returned home, and on the
second day told his wife the terrible news.
"We must not allow our little son, Abraham, to be slain," she said.
"If he is to become great he must live. I have a plan. King Nimrod
will not be satisfied unless a child is slain. Therefore, take thou
the child of a slave to him and tell him it is Abraham. He will not
know the difference. And so that the trick shall not be discovered,
take our child away and hide it for a time."
Terah thought this an excellent idea, and he carried it out. The sick
child of a slave, which was born only a few hours before Abraham, was
taken to King Nimrod who killed it with his own hands, and Terah's
little boy was secretly carried by his nurse to a cave in a forest.
There Abraham was carefully nurtured and brought up.
From time to time Abraham was visited by his father and mother, and
not until he was ten years old did they think it safe to bring him
from the cave in the forest to their home. Even then they deemed it
best to be careful. Their elder son, Haran, was a maker of idols and
Abraham became his helper without Haran being told it was his brother.
Abraham, the star-child, was a strange little boy. He did not believe
in the idols.
"I worship the sun by day and the moon and the stars by night," he
said to Haran.
"There are times when you cannot see the sun by day, nor the moon and
stars by night," said Haran, "but you can always have your idol with
you."
This troubled little Abraham for a while, but one day he came running
to his brother and said, "I have made a discovery. I shall no longer
worship the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars. There must be some
mighty power behind them that orders them to shine, the sun by day and
the moon and stars by night. That great power shall be my God."
Abraham asked all sorts of queer questions of his father. "Who made
the sun and the moon and the stars?" he asked.
"I know not," replied Terah.
"I have asked all your idols, your gods, and they answer not," said
Abraham.
"They cannot speak," said Terah.
"Then why do you pray to them and worship them?" persisted the boy.
Terah did not answer. Abraham asked his mother, but she could only
tell him that the gods who created everything were with them in the
house.
"But Haran made those silly things of wood and clay," said Abraham,
and at last they refused to answer his awkward questions.
Mostly he stood at the door of the house, gazing at the sky as if
trying to read the secrets behind the sun and stars.
"Thou shouldst have been placed with an astrologer," said Haran to him
one day. "Thou art a child of the stars."
Terah heard this and was angry with Haran, for he feared that the
secret of the child's birth might be betrayed.
"I know not why my father keeps thee here," said Haran afterward to
Abraham. "Thou art becoming lazy. I have worked enough this day and
will go out to the woods to watch the hunting. Stay thou here.
Perchance a purchaser may come. Be heedful and obtain good payment for
the idols."
Not long after Haran left, an old man entered the shop and said he
wished to buy an idol.
"I dropped my idol on the ground yesterday and it broke," he said. "I
must have a stronger one."
"Certainly thou must have a god so strong that naught can break it,"
answered Abraham. "Tell me, how old art thou?"
"Full sixty years, boy," replied the man.
"And yet thou hast not reached years of wisdom," said Abraham. "See
how easy it is to break thy gods," and he took a stick and smashed one
of the idols with a single blow.
The old man fled from the shop horrified.
Next, a woman entered.
"I am too poor to have an idol of my own," she said. "Therefore, I
have brought a little food as an offering to one of the many gods
here."
"Offer it to any idol that pleases thee," said Abraham, with a laugh.
The woman placed it before the smallest idol.
"This idol is small and surly," said the boy. "It does not accept thy
offering," and he raised his stick and smashed it.
"Try a bigger idol with thy offering," he said, and the woman did so.
"Thou also hast no manners," said Abraham, addressing the god; "eat,
or I shall smash thee to pieces."
The idol, of course, did not eat, and so Abraham broke it, and the
woman rushed out into the street in great alarm.
Abraham tried all the idols in turn with the food, and as each was
unable to eat, he broke them all except the largest. Before this idol,
which was as tall as a man, he paused. Then, laughing loudly, he
placed the stick which he had used in the idol's hand.
By this time, a crowd, attracted by the cries of the old man and the
woman, had gathered at the door.
"What hast thou done?" they demanded, angrily.
"I? Nothing," answered Abraham. "See, the largest idol holds in its
hand a big stick. It seems to me that he has been angry and has killed
all the others. Ask him why he did this."
The people stood bewildered until Terah and Haran returned.
"What is the meaning of this?" they asked, pointing to the broken
idols.
"Oh! Such fun," replied Abraham. "There has been a fight here. A woman
brought a food offering to the gods, and they quarrelled because they
all wanted it. So the big fellow here got angry, and, taking up the
stick which you see he still holds, he beat the others and smashed
them to bits."
"Absurd!" cried Haran. "The idols cannot do these things."
"Ask the big fellow to strike me if I have told lies," returned
Abraham.
"Cease your nonsense," commanded his father.
"What funny gods yours are," said Abraham, musingly, standing before
the big idol. "Do you think he will hit me if I smack his face?"
Before anybody could stop him, he smacked the idol's face and then
knocked off its head with the stick.
Some of the people ran off to the palace, and soon came an order from
King Nimrod that the idol-breaker should be brought before him.
Abraham, Haran and Terah were seized by the guards and marched off to
the palace.
"Which of you broke the idols?" asked the king, angrily.
"I did, because they were rude and would not accept the offering,"
said Abraham. "How can they be gods if they have no sense?"
"Not altogether a foolish remark," said Nimrod, smiling. "If idols
please thee not, then worship fire which has the power to consume."
"Fire itself can be quenched by water," replied Abraham.
"Then worship water," returned Nimrod.
"But water is absorbed by the clouds," said the boy.
"And clouds are blown by the wind," said Nimrod.
"Man can withstand the force of the wind," said Abraham.
"So he will talk all day long, this child of the stars," exclaimed
Haran.
"Child of the stars!" said the chief magician. "Now I understand. O
king, this must be no other than the child of Terah against whom, at
his birth, we warned your majesty. The message of the stars has come
true. He has dared to destroy our gods. Soon he will destroy us."
"Is this, in truth, the child of the stars?" asked Nimrod, of Terah,
but the latter did not answer.
"It is in truth, your majesty," said Haran. "I have long suspected
it."
"Then why didst thou not inform me?" exclaimed the king in a rage. "I
will test this star-child with the power of my god, fire. And thou,
Haran, for thy neglect, must also suffer. Guards, let them be bound
and cast into the furnace to which I pray daily. Terah, thou art their
father. I can forgive thee; thou wilt suffer sufficiently in losing
both thy sons to my god."
The fire was made so hot that the men who endeavored to cast Abraham
and Haran into the flames were caught and burned to death. Twelve men
in all perished before Terah's sons were thrown into the furnace.
Haran was burned to ashes at once, but to the surprise of the vast
crowd that stood at a safe distance, Abraham walked unharmed in the
flames, the fetters which bound him having been consumed.
When King Nimrod saw this, he trembled.
"Come forth, boy," he cried to Abraham, "and I will pardon thee."
"Bid your men take me out," he answered.
All who approached the terrific fire, however, were burned to death,
and at last when Nimrod said he would bow down before Abraham's God
the boy came forth unharmed.
All the people bowed down before the boy who told them to rise,
saying, "Worship not me, but the true God who dwells in Heaven beyond
the sun and the stars and whose glory is everywhere."
King Nimrod loaded the boy with presents and bade him return home in
peace.
Abi Fressah's Feast
There was not in the whole city of Bagdad a greedier man than Abi
Fressah, and you may be sure he was not popular. It was not that he
was rich and refused to give heed to the needs of the poor. He was, in
truth, a merchant in moderately affluent circumstances, and he did not
withhold charity from the deserving; but he was a man of enormous
appetite and did not scruple to descend to trickery to secure an
invitation to a meal.
So skilful, indeed, did he become in wheedling these favors from his
friends and from those with whom he traded, that he devoted the major
portion of each day to feeding and left himself little time to attend
to his business affairs. Moreover, he grew unpleasantly fat. His face
was red and bloated with much wine drinking. He was not a nice person
to look upon at all, and those who had aforetime been his friends came
to the conclusion that the day had arrived when he should be taught a
severe lesson.
[Illustration: He sprang from his stool, spluttering and
cursing. (_Page 110_).]
And so it came to pass that when Abi Fressah was standing in the
bazaar at the hour of the mid-day meal and eagerly scanning the crowd
to discover some acquaintance whom he could induce to ask him to
dinner, he saw Ben Maslia, one of the wealthiest and most generous of
men in Bagdad.
"Ah, my excellent friend," Abi cried, warmly greeting Ben Maslia,
"'tis almost an eternity since my unworthy eyes were cast upon thy
pleasant countenance. Peace be on thee and thine unto the end of
days."
"Also to thee," returned Ben Maslia.
"And whence comest thou? And whither goest thou, oh most hospitable
friend?" Abi Fressah asked these questions hastily, his beady eyes
searching the other's face hungrily for a sign upon which he could
seize to invite himself to a meal. "It is the hour of the mid-day
meal. Goest thou, perchance, to thy pious home?"
"Thither go I," said Ben Maslia.
"My path lies in the same direction," said Abi Fressah. "It will be
pleasant to walk together. Come," and he grasped Ben Maslia by the
arm.
"It is kind of thee, friend Abi Fressah," rejoined the other, "but I
have built me a new abode on the other side of the city."
Abi Fressah's face fell for a moment, but he was clever enough to take
advantage of the news.
"A new dwelling erected by the wealthy Ben Maslia," he said,
winningly, "must be a building of magnificence, worth seeing."
"Indeed it is as thou sayest," cried the other enthusiastically, and
forthwith he launched into a lavish description of his residence.
Abi Fressah grew impatient when Ben Maslia began to describe each room
in detail, his hunger increased when, in glowing words, his friend
painted the gorgeous dining-room, and his mouth watered at the
information that the cellars were stocked with a thousand bottles of
wine.
"Blessings on thee and thy wine-cellar and thy house," murmured Abi
Fressah, when he could get in a word. "I have no business of
consequence to transact this afternoon. I could not pay thee a better
compliment than to spend it examining thy treasures."
"Of a certainty thou couldst not," assented the other, to his great
glee.
"Then let us proceed," said Abi Fressah.
So they set out, Ben Maslia still continuing his glowing account of
his wonderful house.
"It must be as spacious as a palace," put in Abi Fressah.
"Thou speakest truth," agreed Ben Maslia. "I will illustrate to thee
the vast expanse of my new residence."
He stopped in his walk, measured one hundred paces in the street, and
intimated that this represented the width of the central courtyard.
Abi Fressah was overwhelmed with surprise, but he was growing
momentarily hungrier, and it was with difficulty he could restrain his
impatience.
"Yes, yes," he said, "I would fain gaze upon the outer door of thy
dwelling."
"Such an outer door," said Ben Maslia, "hast thou never seen. Its
width...." and again he began to measure the street to indicate its
dimensions.
"And further," he added, calmly, either failing to notice, or
deliberately overlooking Abi Fressah's growing distress, "its shape
and design are...!" and he dragged the other through several streets
until he found a door to which he could point as being not altogether
unlike his own.
"But I weary thee," he said, suddenly, as if regretful of the time he
had wasted.
"Nay, nay, not at all," Abi Fressah assured him, although he was
inwardly fuming at the delay. "Thy descriptions delight me
immeasurably. Thou hast not yet unfolded to me the wonders of thy
dining-room."
Thereupon Ben Maslia took up the tale of the dining-room and its
furniture, and he dragged his companion half a mile out of their path
to show him the furniture emporium where he had purchased the tables
and the couches. Then he retraced his steps to point out a building
from which he had borrowed certain ideas of decoration.
Abi Fressah's fat body was unused to such exertion. He perspired
freely, his legs tottered beneath him, and his tongue was parched. He
was really very uncomfortable, and the pangs of hunger from which he
suffered were not lessened when Ben Maslia stopped outside a
restaurant to speak to a friend who was just going in.
The conversation was prolonged, and all the time Abi Fressah's nose
was tickled by the smell of the cooking. He endured agonies,
especially when the friend invited Ben Maslia to dine with him, and
Ben Maslia, after a few moment's hesitation, firmly declined.
"I must apologize to thee for this delay," said Ben Maslia, when at
length he left his friend, "but the matter was urgent. I will make up
to thee by the magnificence of the feast."
Abi Fressah thanked him cordially for his consideration, but his pain
was intense when Ben Maslia insisted on giving him fullest particulars
of all the dishes he would enjoy.
"Yes, yes," Abi kept saying, but Ben Maslia stayed his interruptions.
"Thy dwelling is far from the center of the city," Abi Fressah managed
to say at last.
"That is a virtue," commented Ben Maslia, and he followed it up with
the advice given to him by a renowned physician that a house was
healthiest when it stood alone, away from the busy haunts of men. To
all this and more, Abi Fressah was compelled to listen. His whole fat
body ached with weariness, he was tortured by a raging thirst, and he
fancied he felt himself growing thinner--so fearfully hungry was he.
The sun was sinking when at last they reached the house, and Abi
Fressah was afraid for a moment that his host would enlarge upon its
architecture. To his relief, however, they entered straightway, and
Ben Maslia said to him, "Thou must be fatigued after thy walk. Rest
awhile."
Abi Fressah was truly grateful, and taking off his shoes he stretched
himself on a comfortable couch. He dozed for a while, but was awakened
by the noise of clattering dishes and the smell of savory cooking. He
almost forgot his unpleasant afternoon in the prospect of the coming
feast, but Ben Maslia came not. Abi Fressah soon felt angry. He could
not restrain himself from banging a big brass gong to summon a
servant. But although he banged several times, no servant answered the
call. Abi Fressah nearly shed tears in his despair.
Suddenly Ben Maslia appeared before him.
"I thought I would give thee ample rest," he said suavely. "Come, we
must perform our ablutions."
Abi Fressah would have preferred to have dispensed with this ceremony,
but he could not offend his host by declining to conform to the custom
of the period. Ben Maslia led the way to the bath-chamber, and there
they spent quite an hour. Then, thoroughly refreshed, the host said,
"Now I will show thee the wonders and beauties of my domain."
Abi Fressah was almost stupified with hunger, but he had to permit
himself to be led through each room and to hear again the praises that
had already been poured into his ears all the afternoon. Only the
smell of the cooking fortified his spirit and enabled him to undergo
the ordeal. He seemed to wake up from a stupor when his host opened a
door and exclaimed, "This is the feasting-chamber."
A scene of splendor burst upon the eyes of Abi Fressah. He rubbed his
hands in glee and was ready to forget and forgive the discomforts of
the past few hours. The dining-room presented a magnificent
appearance, with its gorgeous hangings, its many lamps, and its marble
floor. But these things Abi Fressah scarcely noted. His gaze was
promptly directed on the table.
It was spread with the most sumptuous repast that ever he had seen.
There were dishes upon dishes of tasty sweetmeats, huge platters of
luscious fruits, many bottles of wine, and covered bowls from which
arose the most appetizing aroma. Abi Fressah's mouth began to twitch
and his eyes glowed. He moved forward to a seat.
"Good friend," said his host, "let me first introduce to your notice
my staff of servants."
He clapped his hands, and immediately, in quite startling fashion, a
dozen servants stepped from behind the hangings which had hidden them
and bowed before their master. With a dozen attendants to wait upon
him, Abi Fressah saw that he was going to enjoy a meal worthy of the
occasion. He looked upon the slaves with satisfaction.