home. "Look'ee, Dame Margery," said he; "I promised to pay you well and
I will keep my word. Come hither!" So the dame went to him as he had
bidden her to do, and the little man filled her reticule with black
coals from the hearth. The dame said nothing, but she wondered much
whether the little man called this good pay for her pains. After this
she climbed up on the great horse again, and behind the little man, and
they rode out of the place and home, where they were safe and sound
ere the day had fairly broken. But before the little man had left her he
drew out another little box just like the one that Tommy Lamb had
brought her the evening before, only this time the box was filled with
red ointment. "Rub your eyes with this, Dame Margery," said he.
[Illustration: DAME TWIST DRIVES AWAY THE LITTLE FOLKS]
Now Dame Margery Twist knew butter from cheese, as the saying is. She
knew that the green salve was of a kind which very few people have had
rubbed over their eyes in this world; that it was of a kind which poets
would give their ears to possess--even were it a lump no larger than a
pea. So, when she took the box of red ointment, she only rubbed one eye
with it--her left eye. Her right eye she pretended to rub, but, in
truth, she never touched it at all.
Then the little man got upon his horse again, and rode away to his home
in the hill.
After he had gone away, Dame Margery thought that she would empty her
reticule of the dirty black coals; so she turned it topsy-turvy, and
shook it over the hearth, and out tumbled--black coals? No; great lumps
of pure gold that shone bright yellow, like fire, in the light of the
candle. The good dame could scarcely believe her eyes, for here was
wealth enough to keep her in comfort for all the rest of her days.
But Dame Margery's right eye! I wish I could only see what she saw with
that right eye of hers! What was it she saw? That I will tell you.
The next night was full moon, and Dame Margery came and looked out over
the fine bed of tulips, of which she was very proud. "Hey-day!" she
cried, and rubbed her eyes, in doubt as to whether she was asleep or
awake, for the whole place was alive with little folks.
But she was awake, and it was certain that she saw them. Yes; there they
were--little men, little women, little children, and little babies, as
thick in the tulip bed as folks at a wedding. The little men sat smoking
their pipes and talking together; the little women sat nursing their
babies, singing to them or rocking them to sleep in cradles of tulip
flowers; the little children played at hide-and-seek among the
flower-stalks. So the dame leaned out of the window, watching them with
great delight, for it is always a delight to watch the little folks at
their sports.
[Illustration: Dame Margery Twist goeth to see the merry doings at the
Fair.]
After a while she saw where one of the tiny fairy children hid himself
under a leaf, while the others who were to seek him looked up and down,
and high and low, but could find him nowhere. Then the old dame laughed
and laughed to see how the others looked for the little fellow, but
could not tell where he was. At last she could hold her peace no longer,
but called out in a loud voice, "Look under the leaf, Blackcap!"
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than, whisk! whirr! off they
scampered out of the garden and away--fathers, mothers, children,
babies, all crying in their shrill voices, "She sees us! she sees us!"
For fairies are very timid folk, and dread nothing more than to have
mortals see them in their own shapes.
So they never came back again to the dame's garden, and from that day to
this her tulips have been like everybody else's tulips. Moreover,
whenever she went out the fairies scampered away before her like so many
mice, for they all knew that she could see them with her magical eye.
This, as you may see, was bad enough, but no other harm would have come
of it if she had only gathered wisdom at that time, seeing what ill came
of her speech. But, like many other old dames that I wot of, no sound
was so pleasant to her ears as the words of her own mouth.
Now, about a twelvemonth after the time that the dame had nursed the
fairy lady, the great fair was held at Tavistock. All the world and his
wife were there, so, of course, Dame Margery went also. And the fair was
well worth going to, I can tell you! Booths stood along in a row in the
yellow sunlight of the summer-time, and flags and streamers of many
colors fluttered in the breeze from long poles at the end of each booth.
Ale flowed like water, and dancing was going on on the green, for Peter
Weeks the piper was there, and his pipes were with him. It was a fine
sight to see all of the youths and maids, decked in fine ribbons of pink
and blue, dancing hand-in-hand to his piping. In the great tent the
country people had spread out their goods--butter, cheese, eggs, honey,
and the like--making as goodly a show as you would want to see. Dame
Margery was in her glory, for she had people to gossip with everywhere;
so she went hither and thither, and at last into the great tent where
these things of which I have spoken were all spread out for show.
[Illustration: Dame Twist sees the little man in green for the last
time]
Then, lo and behold! who should she see, gliding here and there among
the crowd of other people, but the little man in green whom she had seen
a year ago. She opened her eyes mightily wide, for she saw that he was
doing a strange thing. By his side hung a little earthenware pot, and
in his hand he held a little wooden scraper, which he passed over the
rolls of butter, afterwards putting that which he scraped from the rolls
into the pot that hung beside him. Dame Margery peeped into the pot, and
saw that it was half full; then she could contain herself no longer.
"Hey-day, neighbor!" cried she, "here be pretty doings, truly! Out upon
thee, to go scraping good luck and full measure off of other folks'
butter!"
When the little man in green heard the dame speak to him, he was so
amazed that he nearly dropped his wooden scraper. "Why, Dame Margery!
can you see me then?"
"Aye, marry can I! And what you are about doing also; out upon you, say
I!"
"And did you not rub your eyes with the red salve then?" said the little
man.
"One eye, yes, but one eye, no," said the dame, slyly.
"Which eye do you see me with?" said he.
"With this eye, gossip, and very clearly, I would have you know," and
she pointed to her right eye.
Then the little man swelled out his cheeks until they were like two
little brown dumplings. Puff! he blew a breath into the good dame's eye.
Puff! he blew, and if the dame's eye had been a candle, the light of it
could not have gone out sooner.
The dame felt no smart, but she might wink and wink, and wink again, but
she would never wink sight into the eye upon which the little man had
blown his breath, for it was blind as the stone wall back of the mill,
where Tom the tinker kissed the miller's daughter.
Dame Margery Twist never greatly missed the sight of that eye; but all
the same, I would give both of mine for it.
All of these things are told at Tavistock town even to this day; and if
you go thither, you may hear them for yourself.
But I say again, as I said at first: if one could
only hold one's tongue as to what one sees,
one would be the better for it.
[Illustration: YE SONG OF YE GOSSIPS. This is a full page illustrated
poem depicting: the three old maids gossiping at a table, the two old
maids gossiping as the other leaves, and the last old maid sitting
alone.]
YE SONG OF YE GOSSIPS
1
One old maid,
And another old maid,
And another old maid--that's three--
And they were agossiping, I am afraid,
As they sat sipping their tea.
2
They talked of this,
And they talked of that,
In the usual gossiping way
Until everybody was black as your hat,
And the only ones white were they.
3
One old maid,
And another old maid,--
For the third had gone into the street--
Who talked in a way of that third old maid,
Which never would do to repeat.
4
And now but one
Dame sat all alone,
For the others were both away.
"I've never yet met," said she, with a groan,
"Such scandalous talkers as they."
5
"Alas! and alack!"
"We're all of a pack!
For no matter how we walk,
Or what folk say to our face, our back
Is sure to breed gossip and talk."
H. PYLE
[Illustration: A victim to Science. This is a full page illustrated
poem depicting the two physicians walking, the two finding the crow, and
the crow feet up on the path as they continue to argue.]
A VICTIM TO SCIENCE
Th're were two wise physicians once, of glory and renown,
Who went to take a little walk nigh famous Concord town.
Oh! very, very great and wise and learned men were they,
And wise and learned was th'r talk, as they walked on th'r way.
And as they walked and talked and talked, they came to wh're they found
A Crow as black as any hat, a-sitting on ye ground.
Ye Crow was very, very sick, as you may quickly see
By just looking at ye picture th't is drawn h're by me.
Now wh'n ye doctors came to him they mended of th'r pace,
And said one unto ye other, "H're's an interesting case,
A case th't sh'ld be treated, and be treated speedily.
I have--yes, here it is--a pill th't has been made by me.
Now, I have had occasion--" Said ye other, "In most cases
Your pills are excellently good, but h're, my friend, are traces
Of a lassitude, a languor, th't your pills c'ld hardly aid;
In short, they're rather violent for th's, I am afraid.
_I_ have a tincture--" Said ye first, "Your tincture cannot touch
A case as difficult as th's, my pills are better much."
"Your pills, sir, are too violent." "Your tonic is too weak."
"As I have said, sir, in th's case--" "Permit me, sir, to speak."
And so they argued long and high, and on, and on, and on,
Until they lost their tempers, and an hour or more had gone.
But long before their arguments ye question did decide,
Ye Crow, not waiting for ye end, incontinently died.
YE MORAL
(_is apparent_.)
H. Pyle
[Illustration: Play & Earnest. This is a full page illustrated poem
depicting the wind in fairy form first playing with the tree and then as
a tempest.]
PLAY & EARNEST
Over dewy hill and lea
Merrily
Rushed a mad-cap breeze at play,
And the daisies, like the bright
Stars at night,
Danced and twinkled in its way.
Now, a tree called to the breeze,
"Little breeze,
Will you come and have a play?"
And the wind upon its way
Stopped to play.
Then the leaves, with sudden shiver,
Sudden quiver,
Met the light
Mad-cap breeze
With delight.
Presently the breeze grew stronger,
For it cared to play no longer.
So it flung the limbs about,
And it tossed the leaves in rout,
Till it roared, as though with thunder.
Then the poor tree groaned and bent,
And the breeze,--a tempest,--rent
Leaves and branches from its crowns
Till, at last, it flung it down,
Stripped, and bare, and torn asunder.
H. Pyle
[Illustration: The accident of birth. This is a full page illustrated
poem with pictures of: "Ye King" praying, "Ye Saint" holding the baby
with stork standing by, "Ye Stork" with baby in flight, and "Ye Cobbler"
at work.]
THE ACCIDENT OF BIRTH.
_Saint Nicholas_ used to send, so I am told,
All new-born babes by storks, in days of old.
1
King Friedrich Max of Stultzenmannenkim,
For many years unto the Saint did pray,
That he would send unto his Queen and him,
A baby boy, to be the King some day.
At last the Saint the King's petition heard,
And called to him a sober long-legged bird.
2
Quoth he, "Good Wilhelm Stork (such was its name),
Here is a baby boy to take away.
It is for Fritz; so bear him to the same,
Or rather to his Queen, without delay.
For one grows weary when one always hears
The same words daily dinning in one's ears."
3
Now Wilhelm Stork was old, and dull of wits,
For age not always sharpens wisdom much,
So what does he but bear the gift to Fritz
The cobbler, who had half a score of such.
And so the baby, through a blunder, passed
From being first of all, unto--_ye last_.
4
From this I gather that a new-born Prince,
From new-born cobbler's somewhat hard to know,
For which of us could tell the difference, since
One thus experienced was mistaken so?
Also, perhaps, _I_ should be great, instead
Of writing thus, to earn my daily bread.
H.P. MDCCCLXXXIII
[Illustration]
CLEVER PETER & THE TWO BOTTLES
"Yes, Peter is clever." So said his mother; but then every goose thinks
her own gosling a swan.
The minister and all of the people of the village said Peter was but a
dull block. Maybe Peter _was_ a fool; but, as the old saying goes, never
a fool tumbles out of the tree but he lights on his toes. So now you
shall hear how that Peter sold his two baskets of eggs for more than you
or I could do, wise as we be.
"Peter," said his mother.
"Yes," said Peter, for he was well brought up, and always answered when
he was spoken to.
"My dear little child, thou art wise, though so young now; how shall we
get money to pay our rent?"
"Sell the eggs that the speckled hen has laid," said Peter.
"But when we have spent the money for them, what then?"
"Sell more eggs," said Peter, for he had an answer for everything.
"But when the speckled hen lays no more eggs, what shall we do then?"
"We shall see," said Peter.
"Now indeed art thou wise," said his mother, "and I take thy meaning;
it is this, when we have spent all, we must do as the little birds do,
and trust in the good Heaven." Peter meant nothing of the kind, but then
folks will think that such wise fellows as Peter and I mean more than we
say, whence comes our wisdom.
So the next day Peter started off to the town, with the basket full of
nice white eggs. The day was bright and warm and fair; the wind blew
softly, and the wheatfields lay like green velvet in the sun. The
flowers were sprinkled all over the grass, and the bees kicked up their
yellow legs as they tilted into them. The garlic stuck up stout spikes
into the air, and the young radishes were green and lusty. The brown
bird in the tree sang, "Cuckoo! cuckoo!" and Peter trudged contentedly
along, kicking up little clouds of dust at every footstep, whistling
merrily and staring up into the bright sky, where the white clouds hung
like little sheep, feeding on the wide blue field. "If those clouds were
sheep, and the sheep were mine, then I would be a great man and very
proud," said Peter. But the clouds were clouds, and he was not a great
man; nevertheless, he whistled more merrily than ever, for it was very
nice to think of these things.
So he trudged along with great comfort until high noontide, against
which time he had come nigh to the town, for he could see the red roofs
and the tall spires peeping over the crest of the next green hill. By
this time his stomach was crying, "Give! give!" for it longed for bread
and cheese. Now, a great gray stone stood near by at the forking of the
road, and just as Peter came to it he heard a noise. "Click! clack!" he
turned his head, and, lo and behold! the side of the stone opened like a
door, and out came a little old man dressed all in fine black velvet.
"Good-day, Peter," said he. "Good-day, sir," said Peter, and he took off
his hat as he spoke, for he could see with half an eye that this little
old gentleman was none of your cheese-paring fine folks.
"Will you strike a bargain with me for your eggs?" said the little old
man. Yes, Peter would strike a bargain; what would the little gentleman
give him for his eggs? "I will give you this," said the little old man,
and he drew a black bottle out of his pocket.
Peter took the bottle and turned it over and over in his hands. "It is,"
said he, "a pretty little, good little, sweet little bottle, but it is
not worth as much as my basket of eggs."
"Prut!" said the little gentleman, "now you are not talking like the
wise Peter. You should never judge by the outside of things. What would
you like to have?"
"I should like," said Peter, "to have a good dinner."
"Nothing easier!" said the little gentleman, and he drew the cork. Pop!
pop! and what should come out of the bottle but two tall men, dressed
all in blue with gold trimmings. "What will you have, sir?" said the
first of these to the little gentleman.
"A good dinner for two," said the little man.
No sooner said than done; for, before you could say Frederic
Strutzenwillenbachen, there stood a table, with a sweet, clean, white
cloth spread over it, and on this was the nicest dinner that you ever
saw, for there were beer and chitterlings, and cheese and good white
bread, fit for the king. Then Peter and the little man fell to with
might and main, and ate till they could eat no more. After they were
done, the two tall men took table and dishes and all back into the
bottle again, and the little gentleman corked it up.
[Illustration: Clever Peter & the Little Gentleman in Black]
"Yes," said Peter, "I will give you my basket of eggs for the little
black bottle." And so the bargain was struck. Then Peter started off
home, and the little man went back again into the great stone and closed
the door behind him. He took the basket of eggs with him; where he took
it neither Peter nor I will ever be able to tell you.
So Peter trudged along homeward, until, after a while, the day waxing
warm, he grew tired. "I wish," said he, "that I had a fine white horse
to ride."
Then he took the cork out of the bottle. Pop! pop! and out came the two
tall fellows, just as they had done for the little old man. "What will
you have, sir?" said the first of them.
"I will have," said Peter, "a fine white horse to ride."
No sooner said than done; for there, before him in the road, stood a
fine white horse, with a long mane and tail, just like so much spun
silk. In his mouth was a silver bit; on his back was a splendid saddle,
covered all over with gold and jewels; on his feet were shoes of pure
gold, so that he was a very handsome horse indeed.
Peter mounted on his great horse and rode away home, as grand as though
he were a lord or a nobleman.
Every one whom he met stopped in the middle of the road and looked after
him. "Just look at Peter!" cried they; but Peter held his chin very
high, and rode along without looking at them, for he knew what a fine
sight he was on his white horse.
And so he came home again.
"What didst thou get for thy eggs, my little duck?" said his mother.
"I got a bottle, mother," said Peter.
Then at first Peter's mother began to think as others thought, that
Peter was a dull block. But when she saw what a wonderful bottle it was,
and how it held many good things and one over, she changed her mind
again, and thought that her Peter was as wise as the moon.
And now nothing was lacking in the cottage; if Peter and his mother
wanted this, it came to them; if they wished for that, the two tall men
in the bottle fetched it. They lined the house all inside with pure
gold, and built the chimneys of bricks of silver, so that there was
nothing so fine between all the four great rivers. Peter dressed in
satin and his mother in silk, and everybody called him "Lord Peter."
Even the minister of the village said that he was no dull boy, for
nobody is dull who rides on horseback and never wears wooden shoes. So
now Peter was a rich man.
[Illustration: Clever Peter rides to the King's Palace upon his fine
Horse.]
One morning Peter said to his mother, "Mother, I am going to ask the
King to let me marry his daughter."
To this his mother said nothing, for surely her Peter was as good as any
princess that ever lived.
So off Peter rode, dressed all in his best and seated astride of a grand
horse. At last he came to the palace which was finer than the handsome
new house of Herr Mayor Kopff. Rap! rap! rap! Peter knocked at the door,
and presently came a neat servant girl and opened it to him. "Is the
King at home, my dear?" said Peter.
Yes, the King was at home; would he come into the parlor and sit down?
So Peter went into the parlor and sat down, and then the King came in,
dressed all in his best dressing-gown, with silver slippers upon his
feet, and a golden crown upon his head.
"What is your name?" said the King.
"Peter Stultzenmilchen," said Peter.
"And what do you want, Lord Peter," said the King; for, as I have said,
Peter was dressed in his best clothes, and the old King thought that he
was a great lord.
"I want to marry your daughter," said Peter.
To this the King said "Hum-m-m," and Peter said nothing. Then the King
said that he had determined that no one should marry his daughter
without bringing him a basketful of diamonds, rubies, topazes, emeralds,
pearls, and all manner of precious stones; for he thought by this to get
rid of Peter.
"Is that all?" said Peter. "Nothing is easier."
So off he went, until he came to a chestnut woods just back of the royal
kitchen-garden. There he uncorked his bottle. Pop! pop! and out came the
two tall men. "What will you have, sir?" said they. Peter told them what
he wanted, and it was no sooner said than done; for, there on the ground
before him, stood a basketful of all kinds of precious stones; each of
them was as large as a hen's egg, and over all of them was spread a
nice clean white napkin. So Peter took the basket on his arm and went
back again to the palace.
But how the King did open his eyes, to be sure, and how he stared!
"Now," said Peter, "I should like to marry your daughter, if you
please."
At this the King hemmed and hawed again. No, Peter could not marry the
Princess yet, for the King had determined that no man should marry his
daughter without bringing him a bird all of pure silver that could sing
whenever it was wanted, and that more sweetly than a nightingale; for he
thought that now he should be rid of Peter, at any rate.
"Nothing easier," said Peter, and off he went again.
When he had come to the chestnut woods, he uncorked his bottle and told
the two tall men what he wanted. No sooner said than done; for there was
a bird all of pure silver. And not only that, but the bird sat in a
little golden tree, and the leaves of the tree were emeralds, and rubies
hung like cherries from the branches.
Then Peter wrapped this up in his handkerchief and took it to the
palace. As for the King, he could not look at it or listen to it enough.
"Now," said Peter, "I should like to marry your daughter, if you
please."
But at this the King sang the same tune again. No, Peter could not marry
his daughter yet, for the King had determined that the man who was to
marry his daughter should first bring him a golden sword, so keen that
it could cut a feather floating in the air, yet so strong that it could
cut through an iron bar.
"Nothing easier," said Peter, and this time the men of the bottle
brought him such a sword as he asked for, and the hilt was studded all
over with precious stones, so that it was very handsome indeed. Then
Peter brought it to the King, and it did as the King would have it--it
cut through a feather floating in the air; as for the iron bar, it cut
through that as easily as you would bite through a radish.
[Illustration: Peter Eats With the King and Princess]
And now it seemed as though there was nothing else to be done but to let
Peter marry the Princess. So the King asked him in to supper, and they
all three sat down together, the King and the Princess and Peter. And
it was a fine feast, I can tell you, for they had both white and red
wine, besides sausages and cheese, and real white bread and puddings,
and all manner of good things; for kings and princesses eat and drink of
the best.
As for Peter, he made eyes at the Princess, and the Princess looked down
on her plate and blushed, and Peter thought that he had never seen such
a pretty girl.
After a while the King began to question Peter how he came by all these
fine things--the precious stones, the silver bird, and the golden sword;
but no, Peter would not tell. Then the King and the Princess begged and
begged him, until, at last, Peter lost his wits and told all about the
bottle. Then the King said nothing more, and presently, it being nine
o'clock, Peter went to bed. After he had gone the King and the Princess
put their heads together, and the end of the matter was that the wicked
King went to Peter's room and stole the bottle from under the pillow
where he had hidden it, and put one in its place that was as empty as a
beer barrel after the soldiers have been in the town; for the King and
the Princess thought that it would be a fine thing to have the bottle
for themselves.
When the next morning had come, and they were all sitting at their
breakfast together, the King said, "Now, Lord Peter, let us see what
your bottle will do; give us such and such a kind of wine."
"Nothing easier," said Peter. Then he uncorked the bottle, but not so
much as a single dead fly came out of it.
"But where is the wine?" said the King.
"I do not know," said Peter.