into a street gutter. “I am too fine for this world,” it said as it lay
there in the mud beneath a shallow flow of water. “However, I know my
own worth, and there is always a satisfaction in that.”
So the darning needle kept its proud bearing and retained its cheerful
temper. All sorts of things floated past over it—chips, straws, and bits
of newspaper. “How they sail along!” the needle said, “and they little
know what is lying here under them. There goes a chip, thinking of
nothing in the world but itself—a chip! Now a piece of straw floats
past. How it twists and twirls about! It ought not to think only of
itself, for unless it is careful it will most likely run against a
stone. There swims a piece of old newspaper. What is printed on it has
long been forgotten, and yet see what airs it gives itself. As for me,
here I sit patiently and quietly. I know what I am, and that I shall
remain.”
One day something glittering lay close by its side, and the darning
needle thought this glittering object was a diamond. Really it was only
a piece of a broken bottle. But because it was so bright, the darning
needle spoke to it and introduced itself as a scarf-pin. “You are a
diamond, I suppose,” said the needle.
“Yes, I am something of that sort,” responded the piece of glass.
So each thought the other something very choice, and they gossiped
together about the arrogance and pride of the world.
“I have lived in a box that belonged to a young lady,” explained the
darning needle. “The young lady was a cook, she had five fingers on each
hand. I was only intimate with those on her right hand, and never have I
seen anything else so conceited as were those five fingers. Yet they
were made simply to take me out of the box and put me back again.”
“Were they very distinguished?” asked the piece of glass.
“Distinguished!” said the darning needle. “No, but they were conceited
and haughty. They were five brothers and were always together one by the
side of the other, though they were of different lengths. The first was
Mr. Thumb. He was short and thick, and had only one joint in his back,
so he could only make one bend when he bowed. Foreman, the second, dived
into all the foods, both sweet and sour, to test them, pointed to the
sun and moon, and pressed on the pen in writing. Middleman, the third,
looked right over the heads of all the others. Ringman, the fourth, wore
a golden girdle round his waist. Littleman, the fifth, did nothing at
all and was proud of it. The whole five were constantly bragging and
boasting, and therefore I left them.”
“And now we lie here and shine,” said the piece of glass.
Just then there was a rush of water in the gutter that carried the piece
of glass away. “She has risen in the world,” said the darning needle,
“but I remain here. I am too fine. However, that is my pride, and I have
good reason for it.”
So there it proudly lay and had many great thoughts. “I am almost
inclined to believe I am the child of a sunbeam, I am so fine,” it said.
“Indeed, it seems to me as if the sun was always looking for me here
under the water. But I am so fine that my own mother cannot find me. If
I only had my eye, which broke off, I think I should cry; but that I
shall not do—it is not considered well-bred to cry.”
One day some boys were rummaging around in the gutter hunting for
half-pence, old nails, and such-like treasures. It was dirty work, but
it gave them great pleasure. One of them pricked himself with the
darning needle. “Oh!” he cried, and took up the needle and showed it to
his comrades, saying, “Look at this fellow.”
“I am no fellow at all, but a young lady,” the needle said; but no one
heard it.
The sealing-wax had come off, and the needle had turned black, but that
made it look thinner, and therefore it thought itself finer than ever.
“Here comes an egg-shell sailing along,” said the boys, and they put the
needle into it.
“White walls, and I myself black,” said the darning needle. “That is
very becoming, and people cannot help seeing me now. I hope I shall not
be seasick.”
On it drifted in the egg-shell boat, and the voyage proved very
enjoyable. “There is no protection against seasickness like having a
steel stomach, and the constant thought of one’s worthiness,” it said.
“The finer one is the more one can bear.”
Crash! went the egg-shell as a wagon passed over it. “Good heavens!”
exclaimed the darning needle, “how that wheel presses on me! I shall be
seasick after all. I am breaking!”
But it did not break, although the heavy wagon wheel passed over it.
There it lay full length, and there it may stay.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE RABBIT AND THE GREEDY MONKEY
ONCE upon a time there lived in the mountains a rabbit and a monkey who
were great friends. As they sat by the road side one day hobnobbing
together, they saw a man approaching with a bamboo pole over his
shoulder, and at each end of the pole was a bundle hung by a string.
There were bananas in one bundle and sugar in the other.
“Friend of my heart,” said the monkey to the rabbit, “do as I tell you.
Go and sit in the road in front of that man, and as soon as he sees you,
run. He will be sure to drop his load and follow. Then I will pick up
his bundles and hide them, and when you come back we will share the
contents between us.”
So the rabbit went and sat in the road, and when the man saw him, away
the rabbit ran, and the man dropped his burden and gave chase. The
monkey, who had been concealed in the tall wayside grass, pounced on the
man’s bundles, climbed a tall tree with them, and began to gobble up the
bananas and sugar they contained.
By and by the man came back, hot and empty-handed. When he saw that his
goods, as well as the rabbit, were gone, he cursed loudly and went home
to be scolded by his wife.
[Illustration]
The rabbit returned soon after the man left, and hunted about for his
friend the monkey. He searched the vicinity thoroughly, but not a trace
of his friend could he find, till he happened to look up aloft, and
behold, there was Mr. Monkey in a tree munching away with every sign of
enjoyment.
“Hello, comrade!” said the rabbit, “come down out of that.”
“I’m very comfortable here, thank you,” said the monkey.
“But where is my share of our plunder?” the rabbit asked indignantly.
“All gone, all gone,” mumbled the monkey, and pelted the rabbit with
banana peels and wads of paper made out of the wrappings of the sugar.
“Where have you been all this time? I got hungry and couldn’t wait any
longer.”
The rabbit would not believe that the things in the bundles were all
gone. He thought his friend was joking. But the truth of the matter was
that the greedy creature had not left a scrap of either sugar or
bananas.
“Do you really mean it?” said the poor rabbit at last.
“If you don’t believe me, come and see,” said the monkey, and he
descended the tree-trunk nearly to the ground, seized the rabbit by his
long ears, and hauled him up into the tree. After mocking him and making
great sport he left him there and went away.
The rabbit was afraid to jump down from such a height. So he remained up
in the tree for a long time. Many animals passed under the tree, but not
one took pity on the rabbit until an old and foolish rhinoceros came
along and stopped to rub his wrinkled hide against the tree-trunk.
“Kind rhinoceros,” said the rabbit, “let me jump down on your back.”
The rhinoceros agreed, and down came the rabbit with such a thump that
the creature’s back was broken, and he died. But the rabbit was not
hurt, and he ran and he ran until he came to the king’s palace. There he
hid under the king’s golden throne. By and by in came the king with his
courtiers. All the grandees were standing around the throne in their
gorgeous robes glittering with rubies and diamonds when they were
startled by a sudden sneeze.
“God bless you!” exclaimed the courtiers.
“Who has the bad manners to sneeze in my royal presence?” cried the
king.
Each man looked at his neighbor and wondered who did it. “Off with his
head!” shouted the king.
Another sneeze came. This time every one was alert and on the watch, and
they noticed that the sound came from beneath the king’s golden throne.
So they reached under and dragged out the rabbit, who was so scared he
looked more dead than alive.
“All right,” said the king, “off with his head!”
The executioner ran to get his sword. But the rabbit, in spite of his
fright, had his wits about him, and he sat up on his hind legs, put his
two forepaws together, and said respectfully: “O great king, first hear
what I have to say. If you will spare my life I will give you a dead
rhinoceros. Let twenty men go with me to bring the body to your palace.”
The king and his courtiers laughed loud and long. However, just to see
what would come of it, the king ordered twenty men to go with the
rabbit. They were guided by the rabbit to the spot where the rhinoceros
lay dead, and with great exertion they dragged the body to the palace.
Every one was very glad, because the horn of a rhinoceros is good for
curing many diseases. The court physician ground the horn into powder,
and made out of it a most wonderful medicine, and the king was so
pleased that he gave the rabbit a horse to ride on and a handsome new
coat.
The rabbit put on his new coat, mounted the horse, and rode off.
Presently, who should he meet but his friend, the monkey. “Hello!” said
the monkey, “where did you get all that finery?”
“This horse and this coat were given to me by the king,” replied the
rabbit.
“And why should the king make such a present to a simpleton like you?”
the monkey asked.
“I, whom you call a simpleton,” said the rabbit, “got this horse and
this elegant coat by sneezing under the king’s golden throne.” Then he
rode away.
The monkey fell a-thinking how nice it would be if he could get a fine
coat and a horse. “I can sneeze,” said he. “Why shouldn’t I try my
luck?”
Off he scampered to the king’s palace, and hid beneath the king’s golden
throne. Soon the king and his courtiers came in, all richly arrayed, and
the monkey sneezed in the most auspicious manner he could contrive.
“Who is that?” thundered the king, glaring about him. “Who has the bad
manners to sneeze in the king’s presence?”
They searched till they found the monkey hidden under the throne, and
hauled him out.
“Wily tree-climber,” said the king, “have you any gift for me that might
cause me not to bid the executioner to cut off your head?”
The monkey pondered a few moments in fear and trembling, and then
stammered, “O king, I have some banana peels and pellets of paper.”
This reply only increased the king’s wrath, and the unfortunate monkey
was led away to be executed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE NIGHTINGALE
IN China, you know, the emperor is a Chinaman, and all the people around
him are Chinamen, too. The emperor’s palace, at the time of this story,
was more magnificent than any other in the world, for it was made
entirely of the finest porcelain. In the garden bloomed the rarest
flowers, and to the most beautiful ones were tied little silver bells
which tinkled perpetually, so that no one could pass the flowers without
looking at and admiring them. Every feature of the garden had been
carefully planned, and it was so large that the gardener himself did not
know where it ended. If, however, one walked straight on, one came at
last to a forest of lofty trees, and beyond the forest was the sea, deep
and blue. Close to the shore, amid the foliage of the trees, lived a
nightingale, and it sang so sweetly that even the poor fishermen would
stop and listen, when they were out at night drawing in their nets.
“Heavens! how beautiful that is!” they would say.
But they could not listen long, for they had to attend to their work;
yet if they came that way the next night they would again exclaim, “How
beautifully that bird sings!”
Travelers came from all the countries in the world to the city of the
emperor; and they admired everything very much, especially the palace
and the garden. But when they heard the nightingale they would say,
“That is best of all!”
After they got home they told of their experiences, and the learned ones
wrote books about the things they had seen and heard in the domains of
the Chinese emperor, and they never failed to praise the nightingale.
Those who were poets wrote very beautiful verses about the nightingale
in the wood by the deep, blue sea.
At length some of the books came into the hands of the emperor. He sat
in his golden chair and read them, and he nodded his head, well pleased
by the appreciative descriptions of his city and palace and garden. Then
he came to the words, “But the nightingale is best of all.”
“What is this?” said he. “The nightingale—why, I know nothing about it.
Can there be such a bird in my realm, yes, and in my own garden, which I
have never seen or heard? Fancy my having to discover this from a book!”
He called his chamberlain, who was so grand that when any one of lower
rank dared to speak to him or ask him a question, he would only answer,
“Pooh!” which means nothing at all.
“Chamberlain,” said the emperor, “these books tell of a very wonderful
bird called a nightingale in the palace garden. They declare it is the
finest thing in my great empire. Why have I never been informed about
it?”
“This is the first time I have heard it mentioned,” said the
chamberlain. “It has never been presented at court.”
“My orders are that it shall appear in the palace this evening to sing
to me,” said the emperor. “The whole world knows what I possess, while I
myself do not.”
“I have never heard it mentioned before,” said the chamberlain; “but I
will seek it, and I will find it.”
Yet where was it to be found? The chamberlain ran upstairs and
downstairs, and in and out of all the rooms and corridors, but not one
person among those he met had heard of the nightingale. So he ran back
to the emperor and said the bird must be a myth invented by the people
who wrote the books. “Your Imperial Majesty ought not to believe
everything that books contain,” said he. “They are often mere fiction,
and what we call the black art.”
“But the books in which I have been reading about the nightingale,” said
the monarch, “were sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan;
so there cannot be anything untrue in them. I will hear the nightingale,
and I insist that it must sing to me tonight. It shall have my gracious
protection, and if you fail to have it here the whole court shall be
trampled on after supper.”
“Tsing-pe!” said the chamberlain, and away he ran again up and down the
stairs and in and out of all the rooms and corridors. Half the court ran
with him, for they none of them wished to be trampled on, and there was
a great inquiry after the wonderful nightingale which was known to all
the outside world, but to no one at court.
At last they found a poor little maid in the kitchen, who said: “Dear
me, I know the nightingale very well, and it certainly can sing! Every
evening I have permission to take home to my sick mother some of the
scraps from the table. She lives by the seashore, and on my way back,
when I am tired, I sit down to rest a while in the wood, and then I hear
the nightingale. Its song makes the tears come into my eyes, and I feel
as if my mother were kissing me!”
“Little maid,” said the chamberlain, “I will procure you a permanent
position in the kitchen, and permission to see the emperor dining, if
you will take us to the nightingale, for it must appear at the court
this evening.”
Then they all went out into the wood where the nightingale sang. As they
were going along at their best pace a cow began to bellow. “Oh,” said
the courtiers, “that is it! What a wonderful power there is in the song
for such a small creature! And we certainly have heard it before.”
“That is a cow bellowing,” said the little maid. “We are a long way yet
from the place where the nightingale sings.”
Presently some frogs began to croak in a marsh. “Beautiful!” said the
Chinese court chamberlain. “Now I hear it. The sound is just like the
tinkling of tiny church bells.”
“Those are frogs,” said the little maid. “But I think we shall soon hear
the nightingale now.”
Then the nightingale began to sing. “That’s it,” said the little maid.
“Listen, listen; and look—there it sits!” She pointed to a little gray
bird up among the branches.
“Is it possible?” said the chamberlain. “I should never have thought the
nightingale was like that. How common it looks! I suppose it has lost
its color through a faintness caused by the unexpected sight of so many
grand people.”
“Little nightingale,” said the kitchen-maid, “our gracious emperor
wishes you to sing to him.”
“I will do so with the greatest pleasure,” said the nightingale, and it
warbled a song in the most delightful fashion.
“Its singing sounds just like crystal bells,” said the chamberlain. “See
how it works its little throat. I wonder that we have never heard it
before. It will be a great success at court.”
“Shall I sing again to the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought
the monarch was present.
“My excellent little nightingale,” said the chamberlain, “I have the
honor to invite your attendance at a court festival tonight, when you
will charm his Imperial Majesty with your fascinating singing.”
“My singing sounds best among the trees,” said the nightingale, but it
went with them willingly when it understood that the emperor wanted it
to come.
The palace had been splendidly decorated for the occasion. The porcelain
walls and floors reflected the light of many thousands of golden lamps;
the most beautiful flowers, all of the tinkling kind, were arranged in
the corridors; and there was such a running to and fro as kept the bells
in constant motion and filled one’s ears full of the tinkling.
In the center of the great hall, where the emperor sat, a golden perch
had been fixed for the nightingale. The whole court was present, and the
little kitchen-maid was permitted to stand behind the door, for she had
been promoted to be a real palace cook. All were dressed in their very
best, and all had their eyes on the little gray bird, to whom the
emperor nodded.
The nightingale sang so beautifully that tears came into the emperor’s
eyes and ran down his cheeks. Indeed, the song touched the heart of
every one who heard it. The emperor was so charmed that he said the
nightingale should have his golden garter to wear around its neck. But
the nightingale declined with thanks, saying that it had already
received sufficient reward; “for I have seen tears in the emperor’s
eyes,” it added, “and I could ask for nothing more.”
Then again it sang its heavenly song. “That is the sweetest possible
sort of coquetry,” said the ladies; and they took some water into their
mouths to try to make the same gurgling when any one spoke to them.
Everybody expressed satisfaction—even the footmen and chamber-maids, and
that is saying a great deal, for they are always the most difficult
people to please. In short, the nightingale was a great success.
It was now to remain at court and live in a cage. Twice a day and once
at night it had liberty to go out, but whenever it left its cage it was
accompanied by twelve servants, each holding a silken string attached to
its leg. There was not much pleasure in an outing of that sort.
The whole city talked about the wonderful bird, and if two acquaintances
met, one would say, by way of greeting, “Nightin,” and the other would
say, “gale;” and then they sighed, and perfectly understood each other.
Eleven tradesmen’s children were named after the bird, though not one of
them grew up with the least ability to sing.
One day the emperor received a large parcel on which was written, “The
Nightingale.”
“Here we have a new book about our celebrated bird,” said he.
It was no book, however, but a box that contained an artificial
nightingale made much like the living one in size and shape, but covered
all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When the imitation bird
was wound up, it could sing one of the songs the real bird sang, and
then it wagged its tail all glittering with silver and gold. Round its
neck was tied a ribbon, on which was written, “The Emperor of Japan’s
nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of China.”
Everybody said, “Oh, how beautiful!” and he who had brought the
artificial bird immediately received the title of Imperial
Nightingale-Carrier-in-Chief.
“Now the two birds must sing together,” said the courtiers. “What a
lovely duet that will be!”
So they had to sing together, but they did not get on very well, for the
real bird sang its own way, and did not keep time with the mechanical
bird.
“The discords are not the new one’s fault,” said the music-master, “for
it sings in perfect time and in every way is entirely correct.”
[Illustration:
The nightingale at court
]
Afterward the imitation bird was made to sing alone. Singing thus, it
was just as great a success as the real bird; and of course it was much
prettier to look at, for it glittered like bracelets and breastpins.
Thirty-three times it sang the same tune over, and still it was not
tired. The courtiers would willingly have heard it from the beginning
again, but the emperor said that the live nightingale must have a turn
now. Where was it? No one had noticed that it had flown out of the open
window back to its own green woods.
“What is the meaning of this?” said the emperor.
The courtiers all blamed the nightingale, and thought it a most
ungrateful creature. “Anyway, we have the best bird,” they said.
Then the imitation bird had to sing again, which made the thirty-fourth
time they had heard the same tune. But they did not know the tune
thoroughly, even then, it was so difficult. The music-master praised the
bird exceedingly, and insisted that it was much better than a live
nightingale, not only as regarded its outside with all the diamonds, but
the inside, too. “Because,” said he, “we never know what song is coming
next from the real nightingale, but with the artificial one everything
is decided beforehand. So it is, and so it must remain; it can’t be
otherwise. You can open the bird, you can explain it, and show the
ingenuity of it, how the wheels go, and how one note follows another.”
“Those are exactly my opinions,” they all said; and the music-master
received permission to show the bird to the people on the following
Sunday.
So the people saw the imitation nightingale and heard it sing, and they
were all very enthusiastic over it, and they all said, “Oh!” and stuck
their forefingers up into the air and nodded their heads.
But the poor fishermen who had heard the real bird said: “The song of
this bird is very nice, and it is much like that of the live bird, but
there is something wanting—we don’t know what.”
The real nightingale was banished from the empire, while the artificial
bird was given a place on a silk cushion close to the emperor’s bed. All
the presents which it had received lay around it, and the title of Chief
Imperial Singer of the Bedchamber on the Left Side was conferred on it.
The emperor considered the left side, where the heart is, the more
important, for even an emperor has his heart on the left side just like
other people.
A treatise in twenty-five volumes was written by the music-master about
the artificial bird, and this treatise was so learned and long, and so
full of the most difficult Chinese words, that all the people said they
had read and understood it, for otherwise they would have been thought
stupid.
A year passed, and the emperor and his court and all the other Chinamen
knew every little gurgle in the song of the artificial bird. That was
why it pleased them. They could sing with it, and often did so. Even the
street boys sang: “Tsee, tsee, tsee! Cluck, cluck, cluck!” and the
emperor did just the same. It really was most enjoyable.
But one evening, when the bird was singing its best, and the emperor was
lying in bed listening to it, something inside of the bird gave way with
a sudden snap. Then whir-r-r went all the wheels, and the music stopped.