in total darkness. Not a ray of light came from the outside world,
and, of course, not an object in the room could be seen. He rubbed his
eyes and sat up to make sure that he was not dreaming. Then he called
loudly for someone to come and open a window for him, but no one came.
He got up and groped his way to the iron door and tried to open it,
but it was--as you know--locked. He kicked it, and beat upon it, but
he only bruised his fists and hurt his toes. He grew quite angry now.
How dare any one shut him, a prince, up in a dark prison like this! He
abused the fairy godmother, calling her all sorts of names. In fact,
he blamed everybody and everything but himself for his trouble, but it
was of no use. The sound of his own voice was his only answer. The
whole of the outside world seemed to have forgotten him.
As he felt his way back to his couch, he knocked over one of the
golden jars which had held the liquid perfume, but the perfume was all
gone now and only an empty jar rolled over the floor. He laid himself
down on the couch, but its soft pillows had been removed and a hard
iron framework received him. He was dismayed, and lay for a long time
thinking of what he had best do with himself. All before him was blank
darkness, as black as the darkest night you ever saw. He reached out
his hand to get some fruit to eat, but only one or two withered apples
remained on the table. Was he to starve to death? Suddenly he noticed
that the tinkling music of the fountain had ceased. He hastily groped
his way to it, and he found in the place of the dancing, running
stream a silent pool of water. A hush had fallen upon everything about
him; a dead silence was in the room. He threw himself down upon the
floor and wished that he were dead also. He lay there for a long, long
time.
At last he heard, or thought he heard, a faint sound. He listened
eagerly. It seemed to be some tiny creature not far away, trying to
move about. For the first time for nearly a month, he remembered the
bird in the gilded cage. "Poor little thing," he cried as he sprang
up, "you too are shut within this terrible prison. This thick darkness
must be as hard for you to bear as it is for me." He went toward the
cage, and, as he drew near, the bird gave a glad little chirp.
"That's better than nothing," said the boy. "You must need some water
to drink. Poor thing," continued he, as he filled the drinking-cup,
"this is all I have to give you."
Just then he heard a harsh, grating sound as of rusty bolts sliding
with difficulty out of their sockets, and then faint rays of light,
not wider than a hair, began to shine between the heavy plate mirrors.
Prince Harweda was filled with joy. "Perhaps, perhaps," said he
softly, "I may yet see the light again. Ah, how beautiful the outside
world would look to me now!"
The next day he was so hungry that he began to bite one of the old
withered apples, and as he bit it, he thought of the bird, his
fellow-prisoner. "You must be hungry too, poor little thing," said he,
as he put part of the apple into the bird's cage. Again came the
harsh, grating sound, and the boy noticed that the cracks of light
were growing larger. Still they were only cracks, as nothing of the
outside world could be seen. However, it was a comfort not to have to
grope about in total darkness. Prince Harweda felt quite sure that
the cracks of light were wider, and on going up to one and putting his
eye close to it, as he would to a pinhole in a paper, he was glad to
find that he could tell the greenness of the grass from the blue of
the sky.
"Ah, my pretty bird, my pretty bird!" he cried joyfully, "I have had a
glimpse of the great beautiful outside world, and you shall have it
too."
With these words, he climbed up into a chair and, loosening the cage
from the golden chain by which it hung, he carried it carefully to the
nearest crack of light and placed it close to the narrow opening.
Again was heard the harsh, grating sound, and the walls moved a bit,
and the windows were now at least an inch wide. At this, the poor
prince clasped his hands with delight. He sat down near the bird-cage
and gazed out of the narrow opening. Never before had the trees looked
so tall and stately, or the white clouds floating through the sky so
lovely.
The next day, as he was carefully cleaning the bird's cage so that his
little friend might be more comfortable, the walls again creaked and
groaned and the mirrors grew narrower by just so many inches as the
windows widened. But Prince Harweda saw only the flood of sunshine
that poured in, and the beauty of the large landscape. He cared
nothing now for the stupid mirrors which could only reflect what was
placed before them. Each day he found something new and beautiful in
the view from the narrow windows. Now it was a squirrel frisking about
and running up some tall tree trunk so rapidly that Prince Harweda
could not follow it with his eyes; again it was a mother bird feeding
her young. By this time, the windows were a foot wide or more.
One day, as two white doves suddenly soared aloft in the blue sky, the
poor little bird, who had become the tenderly cared for comrade of the
young prince, gave a pitiful little trill. "Dear little fellow," cried
Harweda, "do you also long for your freedom? You shall at least be as
free as I am." So saying, he opened the cage door and the bird flew
out.
The prince laughed as he watched it flutter about from chair to table
and back to chair again. He was so occupied with the bird that he did
not notice that the walls had again shaken and that the windows were
now their full size, until the added light caused him to look around.
He turned and saw the room looking almost exactly as it had done on
the day he had entered it with so much pride because it was all his
own. Now it seemed close and stuffy, and he would gladly have given it
all for the humblest home in his father's kingdom where he could meet
people and hear them talk, and see them smile at each other, even if
they should take no notice of him.
One day soon after this, the little bird fluttered up against the
window-pane and beat his wings against it in a vain effort to get out.
A new idea seized the young prince, and taking up one of the golden
jars he went to the window and struck on one of its chequered panes of
glass with all his force. "You shall be free, even if I cannot," said
he to the bird. Two or three strong blows shivered the small pane and
the bird swept out into the free open air beyond. "Ah, my pretty one,
how glad I am that you are free at last," cried the prince, as he
stood watching the flight of his fellow-prisoner. His face was bright
with glad, unselfish joy over the bird's liberty.
The small, pink marble palace shook from top to bottom, the iron door
flew open, and the fresh wind from the sea rushed in and seemed to
catch the boy in its invisible arms. Prince Harweda could hardly
believe his eyes as he sprang to the door. There stood his fairy
godmother, smiling, and with her hand reached out toward him. "Come,
my god-child," said she gently, "we shall now go back to your father
and mother, the king and the queen, and they will rejoice with us that
you have been cured of your terrible selfishness."
Great indeed was the rejoicing in the palace when Prince Harweda was
returned to them a sweet, loving boy, kind and thoughtful to all about
him. Many a struggle he had with the old habit of selfishness, but as
time passed by he grew to be a great, wise king, loving and tenderly
caring for all his people and loved by them in return.
_The Hop-about Man_[11]
AGNES GROZIER HERBERTSON
Wee-Wun was a little gnome who lived in the Bye-bye Meadow, in a fine
new house which he loved. To live in the Bye-bye Meadow was sometimes
a dangerous thing, for all the big people lived there. Wee-Wun might
have lived on the other common with the other gnomes and fairies if he
had liked; but he did not. He liked better to be among the big people
on the Bye-bye Meadow. And perhaps if he had not been such a careless
fellow he might not have got into so much trouble there; but he was as
careless as he could be.
[Footnote 11: _From Little Folks' Magazine_. By permission of Messrs
Cassell & Co., Ltd.]
One day Wee-Wun was flying across the Bye-bye Meadow, with his cap at
the back of his head, and his pockets full of blue blow-away seeds,
when he saw lying upon the ground two little shoes of blue and silver,
with upturned toes.
"Here is a find!" cried he, and he bent down over the little shoes
with round eyes.
There they were, and they said nothing about how they had come there,
but lay sadly on their sides, as silent as could be.
"I shall certainly take them home to my fine house," said Wee-Wun the
gnome, "for they must be lonely lying here. They shall stand upon my
mantel shelf, and every morning I shall say, 'Good-morning, little
blue shoes,' and every night I shall say, 'Good-night,' and we shall
all be as happy as can be."
So he went to put the little shoes into his pockets, but he found they
were already full of blue blow-away seeds.
Then Wee-Wun took the blue blow-away seeds, and cast them over the
wall into the Stir-about Wife's garden. And he put the little shoes
into his pocket, and flew away.
The garden of the Stir-about Wife is full of golden dandelions. That
is because the Stir-about Wife likes best to brew golden spells that
will make folk happy, and of course dandelions are the flowers you use
for golden spells.
But the very next day after Wee-Wun had passed, when she came into her
garden to gather every twentieth dandelion she could hardly see a
dandelion because of the blow-aways that were growing everywhere, and
casting their fluff into the dandelions' eyes.
When the Stir-about Wife saw this mournful sight she wept, because
her beautiful spell, which she was about to finish, was quite spoiled.
And after a little while she went into her house and made another
spell instead.
On the morrow Wee-Wun the gnome came flying over the Bye-bye Meadow,
just as careless as ever. He stopped for a moment by the Stir-about
Wife's garden to look at the spot where he had found the little blue
shoes, to see if there were another pair there. And after he had seen
that no one had dropped another pair of little blue shoes, he hung
over the Stir-about Wife's wall and looked at her garden, and when he
saw the blue blow-aways he laughed so that he fell upon the ground.
"That is a new kind of dandelion," said he, and he picked himself up,
laughing still. Then he saw that upon the ground where he had fallen
there lay a large seed that shone in the sun. It was as blue as the
little blue shoes, and Wee-Wun had never seen any seed like it before.
He took it in his hand, and how it twinkled and shone!
"I shall plant this in my garden," said Wee-Wun, "and I shall have a
plant which will have sunbeams for flowers."
So he dropped it into his pocket and flew away home. That evening he
made a little hole, and when he had dropped the blue seed into it he
patted the earth down.
"Grow quickly, little seed," said he. Then he thought of the
Stir-about Wife's garden, and he began to laugh, and he laughed now
and again the whole night through.
But when he awakened in the morning, alack! he laughed no more, for
his fine home was so dark that he could see not a pace in front of
him.
"This is very odd, very odd, indeed!" said Wee-Wun the gnome, and he
rubbed his eyes very hard. But this was no dream, and no matter how
hard he rubbed, he could not rub it away. Then he heard upon the floor
a clatter and a rustle, and then a stepping noise--one, two; one,
two--and that was the little blue shoes that were marching round and
round over the floor very steadily.
And as they marched they sang this song:
"Ring-a-ding-dill, ring-a-ding-dill,
The Hop-about Man comes over the hill.
Why is he coming, and what will he see?
Rickety, rackety--one, two, three."
And they sang it over and over again.
"Well, this is a fine time to sing, when it is as dark as can be!"
cried Wee-Wun. But the little shoes took no notice at all.
So Wee-Wun went outside to his garden, and then he saw that the whole
world was not dark, as he had supposed, but only his little home. For
in the spot where he had sown the blue seed had sprung up a huge plant
which covered over the window of Wee-Wun's fine house, and reached far
above its roof.
Wee-Wun began to weep, for he did not see why this thing had come to
him. And after he had wept awhile he went close to the fearful plant
and walked round it, and looked up and down.
And then he said, "Why, it is a blue blow-away!" And so it was, but
far, far larger than any Wee-Wun had ever seen in his life before. And
it had grown so high and as big as that in just one night.
"What will it be like to-morrow?" thought Wee-Wun, and he began to
weep again. But the blue blow-away took no notice of his tears, and
the little shoes inside the house went on singing; so Wee-Wun had to
stir his wits, and consider what was to be done. And when he had
considered awhile, he set off for the house of the Green Ogre, shaking
in his shoes.
The Green Ogre was planting peas, one by one. When he saw Wee-Wun come
along, with tears still on his cheeks and shaking in his shoes, he
said:
"My little gnome, you had better keep away, lest I plant you in
mistake for a pea."
But Wee-Wun said:
"Oh, dear Green Ogre, wouldn't you like a nice blue blow-away for your
garden? I have one which is quite big enough for you; it is taller
than my little house. You have never seen a blow-away so fine."
"And are you weeping, my Wee-Wun, because you have such a fine blue
blow-away?" asked the Green Ogre, and he began to laugh.
But Wee-Wun said:
"I am weeping to see such a fine garden as yours without a blue
blow-away in it. That is a sad sight."
"There is something in that," said the Green Ogre, and he set down his
peas, and thought. Then he said: "Very well, I will come and look at
your blue blow-away." And he set off at once.
Now when the Green Ogre saw the blue blow-away in Wee-Wun's garden he
thought it was certainly the best he had ever seen, and much too fine
for a little gnome like Wee-Wun. So he dug it up in a great hurry and
carried it away.
"There, that was managed very easily," said Wee-Wun the gnome joyously
to himself, and he looked at the hole where the blue blow-away had
been, and laughed. Then he went into his fine home, but that was no
longer empty, for in the seat by the fireside sat a little man in a
blue smock and feather cap. And he looked quite happy and at home. And
above his head on the mantel shelf were the little blue shoes, as
quiet as could be.
"This is a nice thing," said Wee-Wun, opening his eyes wide. "Who are
you that you have come into my little house where I like to sit all
alone?"
And the little man replied at once:
"I am the Hop-about Man, and since you have let the Green Ogre carry
away the blue blow-away in which I lived, I have come to live with
you."
"But my fine house is not big enough to hold two people," cried
Wee-Wun, and he was in a way.
"It is big enough to hold twelve tigers," said the Hop-about Man, "so
it can easily hold two little gnomes. As for me, here I am, and here I
mean to stay."
And not another word would he say. At this Wee-Wun was in a terrible
way, as you may think. But there was the Hop-about Man, and he did not
seem to care, not one bit.
So Wee-Wun went on his way, and when he had made a platter of porridge
for his breakfast, the Hop-about Man said:
"Ah, that is my breakfast, I see," and he ate it up in a twink. So
Wee-Wun had to make another platterful, and alack, he was careless,
and let that porridge burn, and he could not eat it, though he tried
hard. Afterwards he went out to fetch wood for his fire, and when he
had fetched it, he threw it into a corner, and he left the door wide
open, so that a draught fell upon the Hop-about Man. But the Hop-about
Man said nothing.
Then Wee-Wun went out to dig in his garden, and he dug there the whole
day long, and when he came in in the evening, there was the Hop-about
Man sitting in his chair. When Wee-Wun looked at his blue smock and
his feather cap he saw that the Hop-about Man looked just like a blue
blow-away growing in the chair at Wee-Wun's fireside. But when Wee-Wun
the gnome came in the Hop-about Man flew out of his chair, and he flew
all around the room, singing this song:
"Ring-a-ding-dill, ring-a-ding-dill,
Let all careless things hop about if they will."
Alack! he had no sooner sung this song than the door which Wee-Wun had
left open jumped off its hinges and ran about the floor, and the wood
which he had thrown into the corner flew out and rushed about too. The
Hop-about Man's platter, which Wee-Wun had forgotten to wash, flew up
to the ceiling, and the wooden spoon spun round like a top on the
floor, and all the chairs and tables Wee-Wun had left awry began to
dance.
"Certainly my fine house will come down about my ears," cried poor
Wee-Wun.
Then he felt a tug at his hair, and that was his cap, which he had put
on inside out, and which was anxious to be off and join in the fun.
And his spade, which he had left lying on the ground outside, came
running in at the place where the door had been, stirring everything
as it came. That was a muddle, and Wee-Wun began to weep.
"Oh, dear Hop-about Man," he cried, "do tell everything to be quiet
again, please, for I can hear the walls of my fine house shaking!"
But the Hop-about Man, who was again sitting in his chair, replied:
"Things will be quiet again when you have put all careless things
straight."
So Wee-Wun set to work, and he wept ever so fast. You see it is
difficult to put careless things straight when they are running about
all the time, and you have to catch them first. But at last Wee-Wun
set the door on its hinges, and put the wood in the wood cellar, and
washed the Hop-about Man's platter and spoon, and set straight all the
chairs and tables, and put the spade in the place where it ought to
be, and he was so tired that he could hardly move another step. But
the Hop-about Man did not notice him at all, and when Wee-Wun cried
out to the little blue shoes:
"See how hard I am working," they were quite silent. And you do not
know how silent blue shoes can be.
The Hop-about Man was falling asleep in his chair when all was
finished, and Wee-Wun again shed tears.
"Oh, Hop-about Man," he cried, "are you never going away?"
And the Hop-about Man replied:
"Certainly I am very comfortable here, with half of this fine house
for my own, and I can only walk away if I have a pair of little blue
shoes to walk in, and I can only go when you have set all careless
things straight."
Poor Wee-Wun! He took the little blue shoes in a hurry, and his tears
were dropping all the time.
"Good-bye, little blue shoes," he said, but the Hop-about Man did not
seem to notice. And when Wee-Wun gave them to him he put them upon his
feet, but he did not stir, not an inch.
Then Wee-Wun sighed a long sigh, and he flew over the Bye-bye Meadow
till he reached the garden of the Stir-about Wife, which is bound
about by a wall. And there all night he weeded, pulling up blue
blow-aways by the score. But when in the morning he went back to his
fine house, the Hop-about Man was gone.
_The Street Musicians_
LIDA MCMURRY
A donkey who had carried sacks to the mill for his master a great many
years became so weak that he could not work for a living any longer.
His master thought that he would get rid of his old servant, that he
might save the cost of his food. The donkey heard of this, and made up
his mind to run away. So he took the road to a great city where he had
often heard the street band play. "For," thought he, "I can make music
as well as they."
He had gone but a little way when he came to a dog stretched out in
the middle of the road and panting for breath, as if tired from
running.
"Why are you panting so, friend?" asked the donkey.
"Oh, dear!" he replied. "Now that I am old and growing weaker and
weaker, and am not able to hunt any more, my master has ordered that I
should be killed. So I have run away, but how I am to earn a living I
am sure I do not know."
"Will you come with me?" said the donkey. "You see, I am going to try
my luck as a street musician in the city. I think we might easily earn
a living by music. You can play the bass drum and I can play the
flute."
"I will go," said the dog, and they both walked on together.
Not long after they saw a cat sitting in the road, with a face as
dismal as three days of rainy weather.
"Now what has happened to you, old Whiskers?" said the donkey.
"How can I be happy when I am in fear for my life?" said the cat. "I
am getting old, and my teeth are only stumps. I cannot catch mice any
longer, and I like to lie behind the stove and purr. But when I found
that they were going to drown me, away I ran as fast as my four legs
could carry me. But now that I have come away, what am I to do?"
"Go with us to the city," said the donkey. "You often give night
concerts, I know, so you can easily become a street musician."
"With all my heart," said the cat, so she walked on with them.
After travelling quite a long distance the three "runaways" came to a
farmyard, and on the gate stood a rooster, crowing with all his
might.
"Why are you standing there and making such a fuss?" said the donkey.
"I will tell you," replied the rooster. "I heard the cook say that
there is company coming on Wednesday and she will want me to put into
the soup. That evening my head will be cut off, so I shall crow at the
top of my voice as long as I can."
"Listen, Red Comb," said the donkey. "Would you like to run away with
us? We are going to the city, and you will find something better there
than to be made into soup. You have a fine voice, and we are all
musicians."
The rooster was glad to go, and all four went on together.
They could not reach the city in one day, and evening came on just as
they reached a wood, so they agreed to stay there all night.
The donkey and the dog lay down under a large tree, the cat stretched
herself out on one of the branches, and the rooster flew to the top,
where he felt quite safe.
Before they slept the rooster, who from his high roost could see every
way, spied far off a tiny light, and calling to his comrades told them
he thought they were near a house in which a light was shining.
"Then," said the donkey, "we must rouse up and go on to this light,
for no doubt we shall find a good stopping-place there."
The dog said he would be glad of a little piece of meat, or a couple
of bones if he could get nothing more.
Very soon they were on their way to the place where the light shone.
It grew larger and brighter as they came nearer to it, till they saw
that it came from the window of a small hut. The donkey, who was the
tallest, went near and looked in.
"What is to be seen, old Grey Horse?" said the rooster.
"What do I see?" answered the donkey. "Why, a table spread with plenty
to eat and drink, and robbers sitting at it and having a good time."
"That ought to be our supper," said the rooster.
"Yes, yes," the donkey answered; "how I wish we were inside."
Then they talked together about how they should drive the robbers
away. At last they made a plan that they thought would work. The
donkey was to stand on his hind legs and place his forefeet on the
window-sill. The dog was to stand on his back. The cat was to stand on
the dog's shoulders, and the rooster promised to light upon the cat's
head.
As soon as they were all ready they began to play their music
together. The donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, the
rooster crowed. They made such a noise that the window rattled.
The robbers, hearing the dreadful din, were terribly frightened, and
ran as fast as they could to the woods. The four comrades, rushing in,
hurried to the table and ate as if they had had nothing for a month.
When they had finished their meal they put out the light, and each one
chose a good bed for the night. The donkey lay down at full length in
the yard, the dog crouched behind the door, the cat curled herself up
on the hearth in front of the fire, while the rooster flew to the roof
of the hut. They were all so tired after their long journey that they
were soon fast asleep.
About midnight one of the robbers, seeing that the light was out and
all quiet, said to his chief: "I do not think that we had any reason
to be afraid, after all."
Then he called one of his robbers and sent him to the house to see if
it was all right.
The robber, finding everything quiet, went into the kitchen to light a
match. Seeing the glaring, fiery eyes of the cat, he thought they were
live coals, and held a match toward them that he might light it. But
Puss was frightened; she spat at him and scratched his face. This
frightened the robber so terribly that he rushed to the door, but the
dog, who lay there, sprang out at him and bit him on the leg as he
went by.
In the yard he ran against the donkey, who gave him a savage kick,
while the rooster on the roof cried out as loud as he could,
"_Cock-a-doodle-doo_."
Then the robber ran back to his chief.
"Oh! oh!" he cried, "in that house is a horrible woman, who flew at me
and scratched me down the face with her long fingers. Then by the door
stood a man with a knife, who stabbed me in the leg, and out in the
yard lay a monster who struck me a hard blow with a huge club; and up
on the roof sat the judge, who cried, 'Bring me the scoundrel here.'
You may be sure I ran away as fast as I could go."