there was no music in them, not in one of them. They could never be
Musicians, though they were wonderful Blowers. You see, unless they
could blow tunes on their instruments no one would ever pay merely to
hear them blow; indeed, nowadays folk seldom ventured near the mill, the
family made such a din. And this blew trade away, even on windy days.
The Miller was growing poorer and poorer, and it seemed unlikely that
his children would ever help him to earn their bread, for they had been
brought up to blow, and that was all they knew how to do.
One morning the Miller went out to grind some grain which Farmer Huss
had left the night before. Huss, who was stone deaf, was the only
neighbor who cared nowadays to come to the noisy mill, and naturally the
Miller was anxious to please him. But when he looked up at the cloudless
sky he saw that there would be no grinding done that morning. There was
no breeze anywhere, and the mill was sound asleep. The windmill was
lazy, like all its race, and unless an urging wind was blowing it would
not work at all. On breezeless days the mill slept from morning until
night, and then the farmers who had brought their grain grumbled and
were angry with the poor Miller; which, of course, was very
unreasonable. Farmer Huss had vowed that if his grain was not ground
before noon he would never come near the Miller again; and that would be
bad indeed, for, deaf though he was, he remained the Miller's best
customer. Worst of all, there was not a crust in the house, not a penny
to buy bread. And although the children were now so busy blowing that
they had forgotten to be hungry, before night they would be crying for
food. What was to be done?
Hollow-eyed with hunger and anxiety, the Miller sat down and stared at
the motionless mill. Something must be done! Unless the children could
help him earn a penny he must sell their flutes, trombones, trumpets,
bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, bassoons, and piccolos; but what
then would become of their wonderful talents for blowing?
"Must all their practice be wasted?" thought the Miller. "They have
blown, they have blown until their breath is as strong as the wind. Ha!
I have an idea!" And jumping up he ran as fast as his legs would carry
him to gather his little flock. "It is an ill babe that blows no good!"
said the Miller to himself.
The Miller found his boys in the mill yard blowing on their ten
instruments. Hans the eldest, who was head and shoulders taller than his
father, had the huge bassoon, and the baby, who was just able to toddle,
grasped a piccolo. All the other brothers big and little, tall and
short, were tootling upon their various instruments with their cheeks
bulging out like balloons; and the noise was so deafening that the bugs
and beetles burrowed down into the ground to escape it, while even the
fishes in the well turned over on their backs and fainted from the
vibrations. Whenever they were hungry the Miller's sons always blew
hardest, because then they forgot about their empty stomachs. Although
it was a still day,--so still that the windmill's arms were quite
motionless,--when the children blew the notes from their instruments the
smoke about the cottage chimney huddled itself together and scudded
horizontally away. The trees swayed as if blown by a tempest, and the
waters of the duck-pond became humpy with waves; so that the ducks were
in danger of drowning. When the Miller saw all this he was delighted,
and his face beamed like the sun after a shower.
"Good, my children, good!" he cried. "You are wonderful little Blowers,
and you shall make my fortune yet, though there is not one note of music
in the ten of you. But look now; I have an idea! Gather around me and I
will tell you."
The ten children dropped their instruments and crowded eagerly about the
Miller, for they hoped that he was going to tell them some way to get a
dinner. But instead of this, he led them in a procession straight to the
windmill, where it stood lazily holding out its arms for the breeze
which did not come.
"Look at that lazy windmill!" said the Miller. "He has ground no meal
for a whole day, and we have no money to buy food. Now, children, open
your mouths and blow, _blow_, as hard as you know how, to see whether
you cannot blow wind into his sails and make him go."
So the ten boys stood in a row, and at a signal took in a deep breath.
When the Miller counted "One--two--_three_!" they made round mouths and
blew out a long breath, straight towards the windmill's nearest arm. And
lo! Instantly the sails filled, and the great windmill spun around like
mad, whether it would or no. The Miller's idea was wonderful! The
children jumped up and down, clapping their hands. Why had they never
thought of this before? This was better than blowing instruments!
The Miller told the children to keep on blowing, and ran into the mill
to fill the hopper with grain. The white flour went sifting into the
bags till their sides were plump and firm. In a few moments all the
grain was ground, and the Miller was on his way to deliver the bags to
neighbor Huss. And deaf old Huss was so pleased to have his meal ready
before he expected it that he paid the Miller double, promising to call
again very soon. So now the Miller had money to buy bread for his
children; and a fine supper they enjoyed that night, you may be sure.
Best of it all was that their good luck had come to stay. The children
gave up their flutes, trombones, trumpets, bugles, fifes, horns, oboes,
cornets, bassoons, and piccolos, because they had decided not to be
musicians, but mill-blowers instead,--which was a blow to music. After
all, they said, their new profession was a more distinguished one. For
with practice any one can blow a blast on a trombone, but few families
of ten have lungs so mighty that they can blow a windmill when it wants
to stand still.
They practiced and they practiced, before and after school. And they
grew so skillful that the Miller declared them to be better than any
breeze, for they were always ready when he wanted them. On days when no
breeze was blowing and all the other windmills in the land were as quiet
as the market on Sunday,--then the neighbors flocked to the Miller of
the wonderful blowing family, and at his mill they were sure of having
their grain ground quickly and well. The Miller was fast growing rich.
He charged double price, always; and, indeed, folk thought it was worth
paying a double price to see the Miller's Ten Blowers at their work.
They had neat little uniforms of blue and white, like figures on a
tile,--blue trousers and white millers' smocks, and wooden shoes. And
they were trained to stand in an orderly row, with big Hans at the head
and chubby baby Tod at the foot, all puff-cheeked, ruddy, and
broad-chested from much blowing. And they blew all together,--one--_two!_
one--_two!_ one--_two!_--with a sound like a great wind in the chimney
on a January night, while the windmill whirled around like a mad thing
and seemed ready to blow to pieces. But the on-lookers had to be careful
to put a rock in their pockets, or to hold on to something steady, lest
they be blown from their feet by the blast which the children blew.
Stories of the Miller's wonderful family spread far and wide, and many
folk came to see the little Blowers at their work. They were often asked
to show their skill in various ways. Hans might easily have earned his
living as a blacksmith's bellows, could his father have spared him from
the mill. The village children often coaxed the younger Blowers to blow
their kites up into the sky or their sailboats down the canals. Even
the baby earned many a penny by blowing the soot out of the cottage
chimneys and the dust from corners in the goodwives' spandy floors. But
the Miller himself did not encourage all this. "Best stick to your home
mill, my sons," he said, "and good will come of it. Do not waste your
breath in blowing small things, and one day your breath shall blow us
into fortune." And this seemed likely to be true; for every day they
were becoming more famous and more rich. And all the other millers in
the land were so jealous that they could not sleep o' nights.
II
There came a time when the Miller was kept busy indeed, and proudly so.
For he had been commanded by the King himself to grind one thousand
sacks of flour for the wedding-cookery of the young Prince, his son. The
Prince was to cross the sea to be married to the daughter of the proud
King of Outland; and when he had brought his fair bride home there was
to be great rejoicing,--feasting and merrymaking at the capital of the
Land of Windmills. And the Miller's flour was to make the huge
wedding-cake and a little cake for each of the guests. For his share in
all this preparation the Miller was to receive a great price,--a bag of
gold. So he hurried about, and the children blew, and the windmill
whirled, and dusty flour went pouring into the King's sacks, until all
was done. Then the Miller sat proudly at the head of his table,
surrounded by his proud family, and with the sack of gold in the middle
of the board for them to admire.
They were eating their goodly supper and drinking the health of the
Prince and his bride, for the morrow was to be the wedding-day. Every
one was talking and laughing under his breath--for they dared not laugh
aloud nowadays, for fear of blowing out all the lights. Suddenly there
came the galloping of horses' hoofs along the highway and a thundering
knock at the door.
"Open!" cried a voice. "A messenger of the King!"
The fat Miller ran to the door and undid the bolts as fast as he could,
while his children crowded around to hear the King's message. But they
held their breaths, lest the message be blown away as soon as spoken.
There sat a rider on a great black horse; and behind him eleven grooms
held eleven horses, of different sizes, the smallest one being the
prettiest, tiniest white pony you ever saw.
"Ho! Miller!" shouted the messenger. "I bring the King's command that
you and your family of Blowers mount and ride with me to the Capital,
for the King has need of you. I bring steeds for all; lose no time in
obeying the King's message."
The Miller and his sons were startled and amazed; they could not guess
whether for joy or for sorrow they were thus called to court. But of
course there was nothing for them but to obey the King. Quickly they
mounted the eleven steeds which the eleven grooms had brought. The fat
Miller went first, on a fat little brown horse which looked like him;
and behind him came long, lanky Hans on a long-limbed bay. After him
followed Piet on a gallant chestnut, behind whom galloped all the other
brothers, with Tod the baby on the tiny white pony bringing up the rear.
But the Miller's poor wife was left behind, not knowing whether to be
sorry or glad because of the King's summons to her family.
Nearly all night they galloped, thud-thud! over the quiet roads, past
shut-eyed houses and dozy windmills, drowsy canals and dreaming
villages. And at early dawn they came to the Capital City. Here the
tired King himself rode out to meet them, accompanied by a crowd of
sleepy soldiers and cross-looking nobles. The Miller and his ten boys
slipped from their saddles and knelt in a row before the King, awaiting
his commands. But he had no time for ceremony this morning.
"Rise!" he cried impatiently. "Do not kneel there when time is so
precious! Rise and hasten to the seashore, Miller. I have heard what
wonderful Blowers your children are. It is for this reason I have sent
for you. Out yonder on the sea lies the ship of my son, the Prince, who
has sailed for Outland to bring home a bride. Yesterday morn he started;
but he has not gone far. My telescopes show that the ship still lies
helpless, as she has lain for twelve hours, becalmed between the
Windless Headlands in the Bay of Calms. The wedding was to have been
this morning at ten in the Outland King's cathedral. Hasten, Miller! He
has yet many leagues to go. You and your children must blow the Prince
into port in season for the ceremony, or his life is lost. For if he be
late, even by five minutes, the Outland King has bargained that he must
die. He is a proud father; she is a proud Princess, and must be kept
waiting by no one. My word is pledged; my son is in danger! Save the
Prince, Miller, and you shall be made a Duke, and all your children
Earls."
The King ceased speaking, and the crowd of nobles hustled the Miller and
his family down to the shore, whence, far off against the dawn, sharp
eyes could dimly see the Prince's ship lying on the water, like a leaf
on the surface of a calm well. The Miller ranged his Ten Blowers in a
row, as they always stood when about to make the windmill whirl; and
they were a flight of steps, one above the other, good to see. Then the
Miller cried,--
"Blow, my children! Blow with all your might, when I speak the word; for
a great matter is at stake. Now; one, two, _three_!"
The boys drew in a long breath, puffed their cheeks, let out their
breath, expanded their chests, and at the third count blew with all
their might, till their eyes bulged and they were purple in the face.
The trees bent to the ground, and the birds flew out of their nests,
chirping wildly. And soon after this the watchmen on the palace wall,
who were spying at the Prince's ship with their telescopes, gave a great
cheer. The sails had filled with wind, and the vessel was moving ever so
slowly towards Outland.
"Again, my babes!" roared the Miller. "One, two, _three_!" and once more
a blast blew from the shore, so mighty that the hats of the nobles went
flying off into the sea, and the King himself nearly lost his crown of
pearls and rubies; which would have been a scandalous thing! Once more
the lookouts on the battlements cheered. The Prince's ship was moving
steadily forward past the Windless Headlands, out of the Bay of Calms.
"Once more!" shouted the Miller, encouraged by the King's nod of
delight. "One more blow for our King and Prince, my children!" And a
third time the Ten filled their lungs and puffed their cheeks in the
good cause.
This time the watchers danced wildly on the palace walls, and waved a
golden banner to the King, which was the signal that all was well. For
the Prince's ship had scudded clean out of sight, straight towards
Outland and the Bride. Once in the open gulf the ship was in no further
danger of being becalmed.
[Illustration: ONE MORE BLOW FOR OUR KING]
This is how the Miller and his Ten saved the life of the Prince of the
Land of Windmills, and became very dear to their King. For, aided by the
breath of the Miller's sons, the Prince reached Outland in time,--yes,
even with time to spare; the Princess was not ready for him! And her
father was so pleased by this promptness of the bridegroom that, when
the newly married pair left Outland after the grand wedding, they took
with them as a gift from the King one hundred buckets of silver and one
hundred buckets of gold and one hundred buckets of shining jewels, the
most beautiful that ever were seen. So that when the Prince reached the
Land of Windmills he was able to give fine presents to all who had done
services for him. And you may be sure that the Miller and his boys were
not among the last of this number.
The Miller was made Duke of Millwind, and he received one of the one
hundred buckets of jewels; while each of the Earls, his sons, had one of
the buckets of gold. And the Miller's wife received one of the
buckets of silver; though she had done nothing at all but stay at home
and worry.
After that there was no longer any need for the Miller and his family to
weaken themselves with work. They were rich and noble; and now it was
fair to give the other millers in the land a chance. But no other Miller
had so talented a family, you see. The best thing of all was that the
Prince and Princess, who, upon the old King's death, themselves became
King and Queen, lived to have ten daughters, each more beautiful than
the others. And when they were grown up, the King their father married
them to the ten young Earls, the sons of the Duke of Millwind, in token
of his gratitude to that fine fat gentleman who was once a Miller. And
Hans the eldest son, who married the eldest Princess,--he who had first
shown his talent as a Blower,--Hans himself became in time King of the
Land of Windmills; which was great fortune for the Miller's son, as I
think you must agree. So the Miller's saying proved true, that they
would "blow themselves into fortune."
Now it was in the reign of this illustrious pair that two wonderful
inventions were made,--squeaker-balloons and soap-bubbles. They were
invented at the command of King Hans in honor of his first infant, who
was born with a perfectly wonderful talent for blowing.
[Illustration]
The Riverside Press
_Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Each chapter title was printed on a separate page and then repeated on
the page where the chapter began. In this e-book chapter titles are
used only once to avoid unnecessary repetition.
Page 26, "See" changed to "She" (She glanced at Joyeuse)