THE STORY OF SOHRAB AND RUSTEM
Rustem once went on a hunting trip that led him to the boundaries of Persia. Becoming tired after a long day's chase, he lay down to sleep, leaving his splendid horse Rakush to graze near by. Some Tartar robbers, creeping up, led away the horse. Rustem, when he awoke, followed the hoofprints until he arrived at the kingdom of Samengan. Its king came to meet the hero, and promised to give back his horse if he became his guest. While here Rustem met the king's daughter, the princess Tamineh. They fell in love and were married with great splendour.
It was not possible for Rustem to live long with his bride, because he was needed by his lord, the king of Persia. He was compelled to leave Tamineh before he could even see the baby that was born. But he sent them a splendid present.
The baby was a boy, and Tamineh said to herself, "If Rustem hears that his child is a boy he will send for him, and leave me desolate." So she told the messenger who brought the present that the child was a girl. Tamineh named her son Sohrab. As he grew up he became very strong and brave. When he was ten years old she told him that his father was Rustem, but added, "If you let this be known Rustem's enemies will try to kill you, for he is hated by many warriors here, because he has beaten them in battle."
When Sohrab was fourteen years old he was as strong as the greatest warrior. He now declared that he intended to conquer Kaoos, the king of Persia, and to make Rustem king in his stead. King Afraysiab, who was a great enemy of the Persians, heard of this plan. He thought to himself, "Sohrab is the only hero strong enough to meet Rustem. If I can keep him from recognizing Rustem perhaps he will kill him as a foe." So he sent word to Sohrab that he would join with him in the war. But secretly he told his generals, Human and Bahman, that they should not permit Sohrab to recognize Rustem, and that if they could they should bring the two together in battle.
When the armies met, these generals arranged with King Kaoos that two champions, one for each side, should meet in single combat. The king selected his greatest hero, Rustem, as the champion for the Persians. Sohrab, of course, was chosen by Afraysiab's generals to fight against him.
Sohrab suspected that his foe was Rustem, and when they met begged him to tell his name, but Rustem refused. Twice they fought, and twice Sohrab conquered. But he was moved by a strange love for his foe, and, though victor, spared his life.
And now the third and last day of the struggle arrived.
As Sohrab was putting on his armour he looked at the Persian hero, and said to Human, "See how strong and brave my foe appears! just such a man as my mother said that Rustem is. He surely is Rustem."
"Not at all," replied Human, "I know Rustem's appearance well. That horse, it is true, looks like Rakush, but is less strong and beautiful."
The champions now approached each other.
Sohrab, again in doubt, spoke, "Let us sit here as friends, for my heart is drawn to you. Be as generous as I am, and tell me who you are! Say, are you Rustem, whom I long to know?"
"Away with your excuses!" cried Rustem. "We meet to fight. I claim the struggle."
"Old man," said Sohrab, "you refuse to listen to me. Then take care for yourself!"
Each now tied his horse, tightened his belt, and rubbed his arms and wrists in angry excitement, for the struggle was to be by wrestling. And now the heroes meet and clasp; in the terrible strain they seem like raging elephants. The ground grows black with the blood and sweat that drops from their straining bodies. Sohrab threw himself forward with a sudden spring and seized his enemy around the belt. Rustem, feeling his strength give way, fell heavily to the ground. Sohrab leaned over to kill him, but Rustem cried out, "Hold! Do you not know the law? It gives the beaten man a second chance."
This was a crafty lie. Sohrab believed it. He left his foe, and went proudly back to the cheering ranks of his friends. Careless he waited, and made no preparation for the next fight. But Rustem went to a stream, and bathed his limbs, and prayed for the strength that once had been his.
The two then met again. Sohrab scornfully exclaimed, "You dare to meet me, do you? Are you looking for a death with honour, because you have been beaten so often? But you care not, old man, for the truth, and perhaps you have another trick to try. Twice already have I spared you just because you are old."
"You are young and haughty," replied Rustem, "but perhaps my aged arm will yet subdue your pride."
Then they rushed to the fight, tugging and bending, and twisting their great limbs, until Rustem with a mighty effort grasped Sohrab. Bending his back, he hurled him to the ground. But he knew that he was not strong enough to keep him there, so he quickly drew his dagger and stabbed him.
Sohrab writhed in pain as he said, "Do not now boast in your pride; I have brought this upon myself. Fate ordered that you should kill me. O, if only I could have seen my father! My mother told me how to recognize him, and I sought for him. My only wish is to see him, and here I die alone! But do not hope to escape him! Wherever you flee, Rustem in sorrow and anger will pursue you."
Rustem shook with horror at these words. His brain reeled; at last with a groan he cried, "Prove you are mine! For I am Rustem!"
Sohrab stared wildly at him, and said, "If you are Rustem, you have indeed a cruel heart, else you would have known me long ago. Take from my arm its coat of mail, and see there the golden bracelet you left with my mother."
Rustem tore off the mail; at the sight of the gleaming bracelet he fell to the ground, crying, "By my own hand my son, my son is killed!"
Lying in the dust, with groans, in his despair he tore his hair and clothing.
Meantime the sun had set, and Rakush, forgotten by his master, started for the camp and entered the ranks of the waiting Persians. They saw the empty saddle, and in fear galloped to the battle ground.
The dying Sohrab heard the tramp of their horses, and said, "Let peace come from my death. Beseech King Kaoos to spare the Tartar army, for they are not to blame. I am to blame. I sought to find you. And how often did I look for my father Rustem, and how sure I felt that you were he. But you denied it, and yet I could not kill you. Now Fate has disappointed all my hopes, and stained your hands with my life blood."
The soldiers approached, and horror came upon them as they saw the agony of Rustem.
"Here ends the war," he said to them; then, looking at his dying son, he groaned, "Oh what a curse has come upon a parent's head!"
In his despair he drew his weapon, to kill himself, but the Persian captains seized his arm.
Then, arousing, he exclaimed to the chief Gudurz, "Hasten! hasten to King Kaoos, and beg of him the medicine he has that yet will save my son! Remind him of my deeds for him, and entreat that he send it for my sake." Gudurz galloped to the king, but the cruel king replied, "Can I forgive that shameless boy, who scorned me with my army, and sought my throne? Only a fool would save the life of such a foe."
Gudurz returned with this bitter message. Rustem then left his dying son, and hastened himself to the king. But while he was yet on the way a messenger brought word that Sohrab was dead.
CHAPTER XIII
NEW OPPORTUNITIES
Often the governor had dinner parties for his friends. These were always a delight to Karim, who helped to make the room ready. First the servants spread upon the richly woven carpet a coloured cloth that covered the entire centre of the long room. Along the edges of this cloth a man next spread the large flaps of thin whole wheat bread. Then the centre was filled with all kinds of good things to eat. There were large plates heaped high with pilav, well buttered and mixed with bits of orange and spices, and topped with pieces of well cooked chicken. Near by in other dishes were bits of mutton in spiced gravies. The yellow curry, in saucers, was placed near the rice, all ready to be mixed with it. Other dishes held cold rice, cooked in milk and sugar until it was almost solid. Often there were large dishes of cucumbers, tomatoes, or apples, with their centres cut out and filled with spiced meats and thoroughly cooked. There were side dishes of sweet preserves, and of red peppers.
The guests left their shoes at the door, and sat down on the floor next to the table cloth. Each rested on his heels, flattening out the instep. He was careful not to move his legs at all during the meal, no matter how tired they became, because that would suggest that he was not enjoying the entertainment. Each guest was also careful to sit further from the governor than other guests of higher rank. If he did not, the guest whose place he had taken would probably have disgraced him by making him get up and change his seat.
When the eating began every one was busy. Each tore off little pieces of bread, and with their help took the meat or rice from the dishes. There were no separate plates, or knives or forks. Once in a while the governor with his own hand poked a piece of food into the mouth of the guest who sat next to him. This was a great compliment. The servants went softly about in stocking feet, seeing that the dishes were kept full.
When all had eaten enough, the table cloth was cleared, and sherbet, or sweetened water, was brought in, with plates of candy and small sweet cakes. Karim carried around a pitcher of water, while another servant went with him, carrying a basin and towel. Each guest washed his hands. By this time many in the room were laughing and chatting. Sometimes the conversation was kept up for several hours, until tea and the kalian had been passed around.
Meantime the servants, in another room, were having a splendid feast with the food left by the guests. So much was cooked that there was always plenty to spare. When they finished eating, the dishes were passed out to the hostlers; lastly, the hostlers passed on the scraps to the beggars waiting at the gate, so that nothing was lost.
One day, when Karim was sitting alone in the mirza's room, a stranger entered.
"Peace be to you," said Karim.
"May you have peace. Is not the mirza in?"
"He has been called by the agha—whose life God will lengthen!—and is very busy."
"Has he no time, then, to write a letter for me? Do you know of any one who can compose a good letter?"
"Indeed," replied Karim, who wanted to show what he knew, "the mirza, when I help him, says that my writing is second only to his. If my letter does not please you, come again when the mirza is not busy. What is your need?"
"Yesterday," said the man, "a merchant sent me some splendid pomegranates. He has made my face to shine, and I wish to thank him. I wish also to beg him to send me some more."
Karim opened the pen case, and took out a reed pen, which he sharpened and smoothed. Then he took a roll of paper, trimmed it with the scissors, and rubbed its edges with saffron. Putting the paper on his knee as he sat on the floor he began to write, pushing the pen across the paper from right to left.
"PUTTING THE PAPER ON HIS KNEE AS HE SAT ON THE FLOOR."
When he was through he read the letter to the man.
"That is just the kind of letter I want," he said.
"Very well," said Karim, "I shall seal it. Where is your seal?"
He took the man's seal, engraved on a bit of agate, and after wetting it with the thick ink, pressed it on the paper. Then he folded the letter and handed it to the man, who thanked him many times, and offered him ten shahis in payment.
When Karim told the mirza what he had written the latter said, "You have learned quickly from me how to compose well. Let me keep on teaching you, and you will become almost as skilful as I."
This is a translation of the letter that Karim composed:
"My kind, honourable and respected master, whose honour I hope may last:
"Just when my weak mind was planning to ask you about the state of your health, which is so important to us, the noble, famous and wise Sayid Ibrahim (I hope that his life may be lengthened!) unexpectedly gave me your kind letter. When I opened the letter it seemed to me that I was uncorking a bottle of rose-water. When its perfume of love reached the nose of my soul, because it brought me the news of your good health, I was as full of joy as I could be. And by showing me your favour, that is, by sending me the pomegranates, you have made me very glad. I hope that you will always gladden my heart with this kind of favour, each year sending me the happy news of your own good health. My longing eye is all the time looking up the street.
"I wish this letter to carry some sign of my love, so I am sending you with it a pair of gloves. Wear them, please, for the sake of remembering me.
"Rashid."
CHAPTER XIV
TWO IMPORTANT EVENTS
Karim used to go back several times a year to spend a week or two with Abdullah and Nana. They were always delighted to see him and to hear of his new life, and much pleased with the presents he brought.
On one of these visits Nana asked him whether he did not wish to become betrothed. Karim at once felt very bashful, but at last told his mother whom he was thinking of, and she promised to speak to Abdullah about it. She did so that very afternoon.
"Master," she said, "you know that your son is now fifteen years old, and ought to be betrothed. He told me this morning that he wishes us to ask Shahbaz if he will not let him marry his daughter Kadija."
"K'choo!" sneezed Dada, and then blinked at the sun, for good luck. Both waited quietly for a minute, and then Nana exclaimed,
"Awý! What bad luck! God has shown us that we should not ask for Kadija."
"There are other girls," said Dada, and after a long talk that evening with Karim they decided to ask Suleiman for his daughter.
Next morning Dada started out to ask Mashaddi to tell his mother to see Suleiman about this. On the way he greeted Husain.
"Peace be to you."
"May you have peace," replied Husain. "Where are you going?"
"What luck!" muttered Dada, and went back home again.
"Why have you come back so soon?" asked Grandmother in surprise.
"That fool Husain asked me a question that brings bad luck," said Dada, "so of course I came back to start out over again. A person cannot be too careful at a time like this."
"We seem to be having bad luck about it all," replied Grandmother. "I had hoped that Kadija was the right girl, but of course, since you sneezed only once, she—"
"K'chee! K'choo!" broke in Nana.
"Praise be to God!" exclaimed Grandmother. "We were talking of Kadija, and Nana sneezed twice. You know that means the best of luck. Let us ask for her."
Shahbaz was much pleased when Mashaddi's mother told him what Abdullah was hoping for. When Abdullah learned this he sent rice and meat and butter to Shahbaz' house, and later came himself with Mashaddi and a few other friends, carrying as presents, among other things, a ring and a pair of shoes, and a large tray covered with candy, with a red handkerchief spread over the top.
"Peace be to you, my brothers," said Shahbaz.
"May you have peace," replied Abdullah. "I have come to ask whether you are willing to marry the light of your eyes, your daughter Kadija, to my son Karim."
"You show me so much more honour than I can possibly deserve in asking this," said Shahbaz, politely, "that I am too much overcome to trust myself to answer you. I must ask my mother and my brother about it."
He went in to ask them, and came back in fifteen minutes, all smiles.
"My daughter is like a pair of shoes to your son," he said.
"Praise be to God!" exclaimed Abdullah, and sent the ring in to Kadija, who of course was keeping out of sight of the men.
Her grandmother put it upon the girl's finger, thus showing that she was now betrothed to Karim. Then the men all sat down to a dinner cooked from the food Abdullah had sent.
After this Abdullah was careful to send a present to Shahbaz once in a while—a chicken, or a lamb, or a toman or two. It would have been more improper than ever for Karim to visit Kadija, now that they were betrothed. As she did not know how to read he could not send her notes, but had to trust that Nana or Grandmother would tell Kadija what he wished her to know. This was very hard to bear whenever he was at home on a visit, but there was no help for it.
One day the mirza said, "Karim, you know about that dog of a Kurd, Sheikh Tahar, who captured the governor's soldiers among the mountains, coming on them while they were asleep, and who robbed the village of Dizza. Now he has sent a letter to the governor in which he asks that some one be sent to talk with him and make peace. The governor is going to send Abbas Khan. He wants a mirza to go with him. I have taught you to compose and write well. I am old; why should I trot about among the mountains to please that dog of a Kurd? The work will be an honour to you. Let me recommend you."
So it came about that a few days later Karim was riding over the plain towards the mountain pass with Abbas Khan and his forty horsemen. Each man carried a breech-loading gun, with a pistol at the pommel and a dagger in his belt.
The road passed over the flat plain, by a river, now running quietly below high banks in its wide and stony bed, for it was late in the summer. In the spring, after the rains, the bed was filled from bank to bank with an angry torrent of muddy water. Crossing a bridge, with arches of red brick, and small towers at either end, built by a rich man as a good deed, to help him enter heaven when he died, they entered the village where they were to stop for the night.
The kedkhoda and village white beards met them with many bows.
Almost every house had one or more guests that night. Karim and the major who commanded the forty horsemen were together in a room that had a rude framework of poles along one side. From its top stretched downwards a long line of woollen threads of different colours. On the little stools in front, the women of the house sat while hour after hour for days at a time they patiently wove in and out the coloured wool thread that slowly built up a beautiful Persian carpet. None of these women had ever read a book telling how to weave, or had ever seen a pattern of the bright figures they wove into the rug. They had learned the patterns by practice under the direction of their mothers. Their mothers had learned them in the same way. And now the girls were sitting before the loom and learning by practice to weave the same patterns.
A small boy told them some interesting news.
"People say," he said, "that the king of the fleas lives in this village with half the fleas of the plain. We don't mind them, but many travellers can't sleep."
Karim laughed at this. He had never bothered himself much about such little things, but before morning he was quite ready to believe the boy.
CHAPTER XV
AMONG THE KURDS
A KURDISH SHEPHERD.
They started early the next morning. The road first led through a plain, between rice fields flooded with water from a large ditch. Next it wound past vineyards with bunches of white and purple grapes, and fields of glistening wheat stubble. Then, passing up a long valley, they crossed uplands covered with thick rich grass, quite different from the bare hills so often seen. In the distance grazed large flocks of sheep, guarded by Kurdish shepherds, stern, wild-looking men, with baggy trousers and jackets of many colours, and large peaked felt hats. Each had several daggers in his belt. They were followed by dogs as large and almost as fierce as wolves.
Beyond, on entering a little valley, they suddenly came upon the tents of an encampment of Kurds. The tents were of thick black felt, long and irregular in shape, and held up by a great many poles. The flaps were partly open for the air. There was not much to be seen inside; rugs here and there lay on the ground, and bedding was rolled in large bundles. A few dishes and kettles were near the hearth, and here and there hung large sheep skins sewed into a rounded shape and filled with milk ready to be churned.
On the poles hung guns and daggers, and bridles for the horses, with the saddles and saddle-cloths beneath. The horses themselves were grazing near by, each tethered by his leg with a rope to a stake. When the Persians appeared the women and children rushed into the tents, from which they looked out on the party, the dogs barked fiercely, and the few men who were lounging around with their guns handy scowled darkly when they replied to the major's "Peace be with you."
They stopped for the night in a village at the foot of a small cliff, on whose crest were the ruined walls of a castle. Karim walked up to see it.
The wall, of cobble stone, had once been about twelve feet high and went around that part of the crest not protected by the cliff. Within were the tumbled walls of houses, and three large cracked cisterns, meant to catch rain water. On the farther side was the arched opening to an underground passage, whose round top here and there had been uncovered by the rains, so that he traced it stretching down the brown hillside to a spot below covered with green grass. Near him, in the wall, was a gateway, protected by a tower of cut stone. Near this tower was a strange recess that seemed cut into the rock.
The village boys with Karim said that this was a holy place, because the prophet Ali had been there. He had been flying through the air when going home from a visit to a holy shrine, and had stopped to rest. As he leaned back against the rock he pushed it in and so made the recess. He was able to do such a wonderful thing because he was a very holy man.
That evening Karim heard the story of the destruction of the castle. Here it is:
About fifty years before, the castle was the home of a Kurdish chief, or sheikh, who gave a great deal of trouble to the governor in the city. He robbed the villages and the caravans, and never paid taxes or gave any presents to the governor. The governor did not have enough soldiers to punish the sheikh, so at last the ruler of the province came with an army and besieged the castle. He placed guards on all sides, so that no one could go in or come out. He put a cannon on a large white stone on the hillside opposite, and fired at the castle. This troubled the sheikh very much, but still he did not surrender. So the Persians called the peasants who lived in the villages near by and asked them how the sheikh was able to get water to drink. Some peasants told about the secret passage down to water, but as it was carefully covered no one knew just where to find it. So the Persian ruler took a mule, and ordered that for several days it be given plenty of food, but no water to drink. In this way the mule became very thirsty. Then the ruler ordered his men to lead it slowly around the castle. When the mule had been led almost all the way around it suddenly stopped and began pawing the ground, because it smelled water. Here the Persians dug into the earth, and found the secret passage way.
Then the sheikh in the castle called his men together, with their wives and children, who were with them. He told them that there was no more hope, for they had no water, but that they must not fall alive into the hands of the cruel Persians. Still, he said, he would not ask them to kill their own wives and children. He would let these surrender if they wished to, but not a man must surrender. The women cried out that they would rather die than be taken prisoners. And so they rushed with their children to the cliff and threw themselves over it to death—all except one, whose clothes broke the fall. The men opened the castle gate, and, rushing out, fought fiercely until all had been killed by their foes.
CHAPTER XVI
RUMOURS OF WAR
The next day for three hours they climbed up a rocky valley, and then crossed a high ridge, from whose summit they saw a plain at the foot of snow capped mountains.
"Those mountains," said Abbas Khan, "are Sheikh Tahar's fort. Whenever we beat him in a fight he hides among their rocks. What can we do?" Going down the steep slopes in zigzags, they crossed some low hills, and entered the plain. A village lay on its edge, at the foot of some hills. The top of one of these hills was surrounded by a high adobe wall. The people of this village looked very wretched; they were wearing clothes that were in rags and tatters. The houses were without window or door frames, and as one peered through the gaping doors he saw nothing but the bare floors. No cattle or sheep could be seen. This was the village that Sheikh Tahar had robbed.
Next morning the kedkhoda told the story to Abbas Khan. Karim, as mirza, wrote down what was said.
"The Kurds," said the kedkhoda, "had told some of us that they were going to rob us. At first we did not believe it. But three days before the great attack forty of them suddenly came down upon our shepherds, who were pasturing our two thousand sheep on the hills. The ten shepherds came running for help to the village. We hurried out, thirty of us, but it was too late. The next day some men told us that the Kurds were planning to attack us within two days. The white beards talked it over, and we decided to carry everything that we could into the walled fort on the hill. We were busy doing this all the next day, until the ground inside was covered with boxes, bundles, plows, yokes, piles of wheat, jars, and everything else we had. We drove in the few cattle and sheep we had left, with our geese and chickens and donkeys. That evening our watchmen saw many Kurds on a hill near by. The next morning there seemed to be hundreds of them. They got on that hilltop yonder, which, as you see, is higher than the fort, and fired at us. We all crowded up beneath the wall nearest to them, where they could not hit us with their bullets. Then the Kurds came up to the wall, yelling like devils, and threw stones over its top. They came tumbling so thick that we could hardly stay next to the wall at all—but to move away meant to be shot. We had guns, but what use were they? If we had killed any of the Kurds they would have killed us later. We had no water, and what help could come to us? So one of our old men crept to the gate to try and talk with them; they shot him dead. Another climbed a ladder against the wall near the place where some men from a near by village were throwing stones at us—he knew them well—to beg them to speak for us to the Kurds; he fell over with a bullet in his head. So we just opened the gate and let them in. They rushed through it like a lot of wolves, with yells of joy, and began at once to snatch at everything they could. They took everything, boxes of clothing, the wedding outfits of our brides, the head-dresses of our women, with the strings of money on them, the cows and sheep and wheat. If they could not unlock a box they smashed it open. They made us take off our shoes and coats and give them up. At last, when there was not anything else left, they formed in two long lines outside the gate, and made us all pass one by one between. If anyone saw something one of us had that he wanted he snatched it. And so we got away, and ran to our houses, weeping, and some of us bleeding from wounds. There we found everything stripped bare, as you see. Now we have nothing left but these houses, and they are all empty."
All the men of the village in the room now burst out crying, and the women outside sobbed and wailed and pulled at their hair.
"Do not weep," said Abbas Khan. "The governor will command the people in the other villages to give you food and clothes, and will send you wheat to plant in your fields. He will surely punish the Kurds, because they have laughed at his beard, and he is a lion among men."
The next day they rode across the plain to a large village. The roofs of the houses here were little above the surface of the ground. In the house where Karim spent the night the animals lived in the same room with the men, and so helped to keep it warm. He found it hard to sleep. Two lambs shut under a large basket bleated pitifully for a long time. Next some animal startled him from a doze by beginning to lick his hand. Very early in the morning the rooster in the room began to crow, and kept it up at intervals until dawn. Worst of all, he could only grumble to himself and not wring the rooster's neck, even though he was the servant of the governor. He did not dare to make trouble, because the villagers here, unlike those near the city, were not much afraid of the governor, and not at all afraid of a fight.
CHAPTER XVII
SHEIKH TAHAR
That afternoon ten Kurds rode into the village. Their three leaders were gaily dressed in baggy red trousers and blue and crimson jackets. They wore broad crimson sashes, and red silk streamers floated from their turbans. All were armed with rifles and several daggers apiece, while three carried long lances as well. Abbas Khan met them at the door of the house where he was staying, and the leaders followed him inside, where they sat together on the cushions at one end, while a row of well armed Persians sat around the walls.
Outside, in the yard, four Kurds stood by the horses. The Persian soldiers gathered around them, and as one Kurd could speak the Persian language a lively conversation soon began.
"Our agha is very angry," said one, "and will never rest until your chief has eaten dirt before him."
"Wallah!" said the Kurd, "if he wants him to eat dirt, let him catch him."
"But your chief knows well that he cannot fight with the Persians," was the reply. "Because he has trapped a few sons of dogs when they were asleep does he think he can face the cannon and horsemen our agha will send against him? Wah! if he is wise he will eat a mouthful of dirt now, instead of many handfuls later. Is he stronger than was Ismail Agha?"
"We all know of Ismail Agha," replied the Kurd. "My cousin's wife's uncle was there when he was killed. Your general came with his horsemen to the foot of the hill where the Agha's castle was built. He sent up two khans to ask him to come down. The khans swore by all that was holy that no harm would come to him, and said that they themselves would stay at the castle gate as hostages if he went. He was an honest man and believed them. He rode down the hill with only ten horsemen with him. After a while the Kurds at the castle gate heard the sound of guns. The two Persian khans—sons of liars—with faces full of joy exclaimed, 'Peace has been made. They are shooting off their guns for joy. Let us ride down and join in the celebration.' We Kurds are honest fellows; we did not shoot them, but turned to mount our horses—and they galloped off and left us. The Kurds pursued, but only to meet the agha's ten horsemen coming at breakneck speed with the news that Ismail Agha was dead. The general had received him very politely, but as he turned to mount his horse after the talk was over a Persian shot him from behind. But Sheikh Tahar will not be caught in that way."
The major now interrupted, saying, "But our agha does not fight in that way. He does not use tricks. He has cannon, and horsemen, and he fights in the open."
"I know you have cannon," said the Kurd, "yet still we do not fear. By tricks you win. But they will not succeed against Sheikh Tahar. Do you know the story of the Kurdish fox and the Persian fox?
"Once these two foxes met. The Kurdish fox said to the Persian fox,
"'How many tricks do you know?'
"The Persian fox replied, 'I know twenty-six. How many do you know?'
"'I know only one,' said the Kurdish fox, 'but it is all I need.'
"They walked on together until the Persian fox saw a piece of meat and snapped at it. He found himself caught in a trap.
"'My brother!' he cried in distress, 'what can I do? Come and help me!'
"'Why do you want help?' said the Kurdish fox, 'use your twenty-six tricks.'
"'Really, my brother,' said the Persian fox, 'not a single one of them is of any use against this trap.'
"'Well, then,' said the Kurdish fox, 'I will tell you the one trick that I know. To-morrow the owner of the trap will come. You must pretend to be dead. I shall lie down near at hand, and also pretend to be dead. He'll take your foot out of the trap. You must still pretend to be dead. He'll see me; then he'll drop you and come to get me. Then you jump up and run, and I'll run, too. So we'll both be free.'
"So the one trick of the Kurdish fox was better than the twenty-six tricks of the Persian fox."
The next day Abbas Khan ordered all to be ready to ride out to meet Sheikh Tahar, who had promised to come down for a talk. Everyone was busy, seeing that the rifles were ready for use, the pistols loaded, and the saddle girths strong; the horses were given a good breakfast; in short, everything was put in order, for no one knew just what they might have to do,—talk, fight, or run away.
About noon all was ready, and they started. The cavalrymen amused themselves and kept up their courage by galloping in great circles.
SHEIKH TAHAR AND HIS HORSEMEN.
As they approached the mountain, the Kurdish horsemen came in sight from behind a hill; they, too, were galloping in all directions and brandishing their spears. As they drew nearer both sides gathered into close groups, and rode on in silence.
There were about seventy-five men with Sheikh Tahar. Most of these were on horseback, dressed in baggy red trousers, wide red sashes, with scarlet and blue jackets, and wide turbans of red silk. Each man was a sort of walking arsenal, with long lines of cartridges, a Martini Henry rifle, and silver hilted daggers or swords. But some of the footmen were dressed in very ragged clothes and two of them carried old flintlock guns.
When the parties were a few hundred feet apart both stopped. After a few minutes Abbas Khan with five Persians rode forward. On the other side Sheikh Tahar with five of the gayest clothed Kurds also rode forward. The sheikh was a young man, with a heavy moustache and piercing, cruel eyes. When they met all twelve dismounted. Some Persian grooms and Kurdish footmen ran forward and led the horses off a little distance. One man spread a carpet on the ground. On this the two leaders sat down. They seemed very glad to see each other, for they kissed one another on the cheeks several times. After some conversation the servants brought tea, which they drank together. Karim noticed that two tea urns and two sets of tumblers were used, and that each leader was careful to have his tea made and poured into his own glass by his own man. Then they stood up, kissed each other again, bowed low, and each edged carefully away to his own company, while every man in sight kept his rifle cocked.
On the way back Karim asked the major what the sheikh had said.
He replied, "Sheikh Tahar said that he knew how just a man our agha was, and how full of mercy, and how brave. He loved him so much that when he found out from the prisoners he had captured that they were the agha's soldiers he could not keep the tears from his eyes. He had not fought the Persian soldiers because he hated them, but because they had attacked him. Why did the Persians believe the lies that Sheikh Rakhim had told? Sheikh Rakhim was his enemy, and had killed ten of his men. He had revenged himself by killing fifteen men in return. Sheikh Rakhim for this reason had told lies to the Persians and had persuaded them to send soldiers against him.
"Then Abbas Khan asked him why he had attacked and robbed the village. He said that the people of that village had killed two of his men the year before. Besides, they had helped Sheikh Rakhim's men, who were really the enemies of the Persians, although they pretended to be their friends. Abbas Khan said that he was delighted to hear this from Sheikh Tahar's own lips. He said that our agha had sent soldiers against him because the ruler of the province had believed the lies told by Sheikh Rakhim. But the ruler now had learned what a mistake he had made. Our agha was anxious to see Sheikh Tahar and give him the honour he deserved. Would he not come down to the plain, near the city, and meet the agha, and be honoured by him?
"Sheikh Tahar replied that he did not deserve such honour, but if his good friend the governor commanded, it was his part to obey, and he would be pleased to come if he could. But his brothers were very angry because the Persians had killed some of their men. He was afraid that he could not persuade them to let him come down. He would come if he could, for he loved the agha."
"Do you think he will come?" asked Karim.
"God knows," said the major. "I only know that Abbas Khan is a big liar, but that Sheikh Tahar is a bigger one."
CHAPTER XVIII
A BATTLE AND WHAT CAME OF IT
The next day Abbas Khan with his company started again for the city, which they reached after a quiet journey. The mirza read Karim's reports, and changed them where necessary, so that they would be in proper form. Then he read them to the governor.
"The agha was very angry," he told Karim afterwards, "when I read how the village was robbed, and he had me write a letter to Sheikh Tahar saying that if he did not come to the city within a week he would send up an army against him."
Eight days later all was astir about the palace, for the agha had ordered four thousand men with four cannon to the mountains. Karim did not go with them. However, the major told him afterwards about the fight.
"When we reached the plain at the foot of the mountains," he said, "Sheikh Rakhim came to our general. He had four hundred men with him, and declared that every one of the four hundred had taken an oath to capture Sheikh Tahar either dead or alive. He also said that he knew where the sheikh was hiding. Our general gave him a fine horse for a present.
"Two days later we advanced from the village toward a mountain. We saw Sheikh Rakhim's Kurds galloping around at the foot of the mountain, and heard their guns. Between us and them was a large building. Our general told us to attack it, because Sheikh Tahar was inside it. So we spread out in a long irregular line, and went slowly ahead, shooting at the building all the while. They brought up one of the cannon, too, and boomed away, but somehow the gunners did not seem able to hit the building. It took us an hour to get close to it, and we kept shooting at it until its walls were full of bullet marks, and some of the soldiers had no ammunition left. But not a shot, or any sound or movement, came in reply. Finally, when we were quite near, the general ordered us to charge. My heart was in my throat, but I just shut my eyes and ran forward to the wall, thinking every step would be my last. But I heard nothing, and so, rushing to the door, I kicked it open, and looked in. I saw no one inside. Others came up, and we rushed in, and looked into all the corners, but the house was empty. Not a sign of a Kurd, not even an empty cartridge shell, could we find. That was all there was of the battle.
"We waited up there a week longer, but no one could tell us where Sheikh Tahar was. So we have come home again."
A few months after this Karim bade good-bye to his friends at the palace, and went back to his home to prepare for his wedding. The agha sent him a fine piece of Persian shawl, and a handsome present of money, and the mirza and Nasr'ulla gave him a farewell dinner. He had an equally pleasant welcome when he reached his father's house the next evening, for everyone was delighted to see him.
Here soon all were active in preparing for the wedding. Kadija busied herself with embroidering nearly twenty small caps, and knitting over a dozen pairs of red and yellow socks, which were to be given to Karim's friends. Abdullah and Nana made a trip to the city with the parents and uncle of Kadija to buy her wedding dresses. Since Karim paid for them Kadija's parents spent just as much money as Abdullah allowed, and of course he did not like to object at such a time. They bought a skirt of bright green silk, another of yellow satin, and three of bright coloured calico, with one jacket made of Persian shawl, and another of Damascus silk.
Karim accompanied his parents to the city, and went to the palace to call upon the mirza. He was surprised to find the court yard full of Kurds. The mirza was very glad to see him, but could not entertain him long.
"Come again another day," he said, "and I will invite our friends in to have some tea with you. Just now we are busy entertaining your old friend Sheikh Tahar."
"How is that?" asked Karim in astonishment. "I thought that the governor had sworn that he would never rest until the sheikh was brought to him in chains."
"So he has," replied the mirza, "and you remember how he sent up an army to capture him, and how the sheikh escaped only by making himself so small that no one could see him. But what can the agha do? This Kurdish fox, when he ran away from the agha's cannon, went down to the city of Kerbella, and there he made so many prayers at the grave of the holy martyr Husain that the chief mullah of Kerbella gave him a letter which explained how holy a man he had become, and how wrong it would be for anyone to injure him. He came back with this letter, and what can one do? All the mullahs and people would be angry if the governor did not respect it. The ruler of the province has telegraphed that the sheikh is pardoned for what he did, and now the agha is giving him a great dinner, and I must be off to write an order making him the governor of six villages, including the one he robbed. And a gold star is being sent to him by the Shah, and a title, 'The Sword of the Kingdom.' Our agha hopes that this will keep him from giving more trouble. Gold stars to pin on one's breast are cheaper than fighting. The ammunition the soldiers wasted on that empty house cost the price of fifty stars and twenty dinners."
CHAPTER XIX
FAREWELL TO KARIM
As the time for Karim's wedding approached, the man who studied the skies was asked by Abdullah to find out what day would be the best for the wedding.
"The stars show me," he said, "that it must not occur upon the first day or upon the middle day of the month, or for three days after the full moon. These days will be sure to bring bad luck."
The mullah then went to the house of Shahbaz. Kadija stood behind a curtain, so that he could not see her—for that was the custom. He read some verses from the Koran, and then made a prayer. After this he asked,
"Kadija, daughter of Shahbaz, are you willing to marry Karim, the son of Abdullah?"
"Yes," she whispered from behind the curtain.
"Very well," said the mullah, "since you yourself say that you are willing, no one can now object." And he thrust a paper, stating this, under the curtain.
The wedding celebration lasted three days, and was held in Abdullah's house. There was plenty to eat, and plenty of music, made by a fife and drum for the boys and young men to dance by in the yard; the girls and women danced inside the house. Everybody in the village came to congratulate Abdullah, and to take dinner. From all the villages near by the beggars swarmed outside in the dust of the street; they, too, were given something to eat.
On the last day Karim's friends came on horseback to Shahbaz' house to take away the bride to the house of Abdullah. Each carried a chicken as a present. Her mother threw a thick red veil over Kadija, so that no one could see her, and they led her out and placed her upon a horse. Then the procession started, a man walking on either side of Kadija to keep her from falling, while another led the horse. The crowd began to shout and yell, and to fire off guns and pistols.
KARIM AND HIS BRIDE.
The noisy procession first went to the house of the mullah, who scattered raisins for good luck over Kadija's head. Then they passed on to the house of a khan, the agha's tax collector, who happened to be in the village. He threw copper shahis into the street, and laughed heartily at the boys when they fell over each other trying to pick them up.
And so at last they reached Abdullah's house, where Karim, standing upon the roof, tried to hit his bride with three red apples, which he threw while the crowd cheered.
Lastly the men took Kadija from the horse and she was led into the house. This completed the ceremony. Here, for the first time since they had become engaged to be married, Karim spoke to his bride.
THE END.
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)
By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per vol. $1.50
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES
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Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," put into a single volume.
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY
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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS
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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO
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THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING SCHOOL
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THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA
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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION
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THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOUR
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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING
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MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM
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These ten volumes, boxed as a ten-volume set. $15.00
THE LITTLE COLONEL
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TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY
THE GIANT SCISSORS
BIG BROTHER
Special Holiday Editions
Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25
New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches.
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend of Camelback Mountain.
THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their Daughters.
KEEPING TRYST
THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A Fairy Play for Old and Young.
THE JESTER'S SWORD
| Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative | $0.50 |
| Paper boards | .35 |
There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of these six stories, which were originally included in six of the "Little Colonel" books.
JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE: By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50
A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known books.
THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK
| Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series | $1.50 |
| Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold | 3.00 |
Cover design and decorations by Amy Carol Rand.
The publishers have had many inquiries from readers of the Little Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as Betty kept. Mrs. Johnston, who has for years kept such a book herself, has gone enthusiastically into the matter of the material and format for a similar book for her young readers. Every girl will want to possess a "Good Times Book."
ASA HOLMES: Or, At the Cross-Roads. A sketch of Country Life and Country Humor. By Annie Fellows Johnston.
With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.
Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00
"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long while."—Boston Times.
THE RIVAL CAMPERS: Or, The Adventures of Henry Burns. By Ruel Perley Smith.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast.
THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT: Or, The Prize Yacht Viking. By Ruel Perley Smith.
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This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The Rival Campers" on their prize yacht Viking.
THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE
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"As interesting ashore as when afloat."—The Interior.
JACK HARVEY'S ADVENTURES: Or, The Rival Campers Among the Oyster Pirates. By Ruel Perley Smith.
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PRISONERS OF FORTUNE: A Tale of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. By Ruel Perley Smith.
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FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS. By Charles H. L. Johnston.
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Biographical sketches, with interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of the heroes of history who were leaders of cavalry.
"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers with historical personages in a pleasant informal way."—N. Y. Sun.
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. By Charles H. L. Johnston.
Large 12mo, illustrated $1.50
In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of the Indian braves who have figured with prominence in the history of our own land, including Powhatan, the Indian Cæsar; Massasoit, the friend of the Puritans; Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war chief of the Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief of the Sioux; Geronimo, the renowned Apache Chief, etc., etc.
BILLY'S PRINCESS. By Helen Eggleston Haskell.
Cloth decorative, illustrated by Helen McCormick Kennedy $1.25
Billy Lewis was a small boy of energy and ambition, so when he was left alone and unprotected, he simply started out to take care of himself.
TENANTS OF THE TREES. By Clarence Hawkes.
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One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.50
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'TILDA JANE. By Marshall Saunders.
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'TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS. A sequel to 'Tilda Jane. By Marshall Saunders.
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'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of her animal pets as ever.
THE STORY OF THE GRAVELEYS. By Marshall Saunders, author of "Beautiful Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.
Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.50
Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to hear.
BORN TO THE BLUE. By Florence Kimball Russel.
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The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the gratitude of a nation.
IN WEST POINT GRAY.
By Florence Kimball Russel.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"Singularly enough one of the best books of the year for boys is written by a woman and deals with life at West Point. The presentment of life in the famous military academy whence so many heroes have graduated is realistic and enjoyable."—New York Sun.
FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER STRAPS
By Florence Kimball Russel.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, decorative $1.50
West Point again forms the background of a new volume in this popular series, and relates the experience of Jack Stirling during his junior and senior years.
THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES
By William J. Hopkins. With fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin Williamson.
Large 12mo, decorative cover $1.50
"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for reading to small children."—Buffalo Express.
THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES
By William J. Hopkins.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval that this second book of "Sandman" tales was issued for scores of eager children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his inimitable manner.
THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES
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Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
"Children call for these stories over and over again."—Chicago Evening Post.
THE SANDMAN, HIS SEA STORIES.
By William J. Hopkins.
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Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series of stories to be read to the little ones at bed time and at other times.
THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
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A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her comrade father, written in a delightful vein of sympathetic comprehension of the child's point of view.
SWEET NANCY.
The Further Adventures of the Doctor's Little Girl. By Marion Ames Taggart.
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In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes in fact "the doctor's assistant," and continues to shed happiness around her.
THE CHRISTMAS-MAKERS' CLUB.
By Edith A. Sawyer.
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A delightful story for girls, full of the real spirit of Christmas. It abounds in merrymaking and the right kind of fun.
CARLOTA.
A Story of the San Gabriel Mission. By Frances Margaret Fox.
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THE SEVEN CHRISTMAS CANDLES.
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Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the delightful Mulvaney children.
PUSSY-CAT TOWN.
By Marion Ames Taggart.
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"Anything more interesting than the doings of the cats in this story, their humor, their wisdom, their patriotism, would be hard to imagine."—Chicago Post.
THE ROSES OF SAINT ELIZABETH.
By Jane Scott Woodruff.
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This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker of the great castle of the Wartburg, where Saint Elizabeth once had her home.
GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK.
By Evaleen Stein.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00
Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the monks in the long ago days, when all the books were written and illuminated by hand, in the monasteries.
THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE.
Translated from the French by Mary J. Safford.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by Edna M. Sawyer $1.00
"An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates the spirit of the hour,—unceasing diligence."—Chicago Record-Herald.
O-HEART-SAN.
The Story of a Japanese Girl. By Helen Eggleston Haskell.
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"The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. The shadow of Fujiyama lies across it and from every page breathes the fragrance of tea leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums."—The Chicago Inter-Ocean.
THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND: Or, The Adventures of Allan West. By Burton E. Stevenson.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance as a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are as real as they are thrilling.
THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER. By Burton E. Stevenson.
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"A better book for boys has never left an American press."—Springfield Union.
THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER. By Burton E. Stevenson.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for boys in which the actualities of life are set forth in a practical way could be devised or written."—Boston Herald.
CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER. By Winn Standish.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy.
JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS: Or, Sports on Land and Lake. By Winn Standish.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested in athletics, for it shows him what it means to always 'play fair.'"—Chicago Tribune.
JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS: Or, Millvale High in Camp. By Winn Standish.
Illustrated $1.50
Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to excite the healthy minded youngster to emulation.
JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE: Or, The Acting Captain of the Team. By Winn Standish.
Illustrated $1.50
On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing, but it is more of a school story perhaps than any of its predecessors.
CAPTAIN JINKS: The Autobiography of a Shetland Pony. By Frances Hodges White.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
The story of Captain Jinks and his faithful dog friend Billy, their quaint conversations and their exciting adventures, will be eagerly read by thousands of boys and girls. The story is beautifully written and will take its place alongside of "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."
THE RED FEATHERS. By Theodore Roberts.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young.
FLYING PLOVER. By Theodore Roberts.
Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull $1.00
Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who lives alone with her grandson, "Flying Plover," to whom she tells the stories each evening.
THE WRECK OF THE OCEAN QUEEN. By James Otis, author of "Larry Hudson's Ambition," etc.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"A stirring story of wreck and mutiny, which boys will find especially absorbing. The many young admirers of James Otis will not let this book escape them, for it fully equals its many predecessors in excitement and sustained interest."—Chicago Evening Post.
LITTLE WHITE INDIANS. By Fannie E. Ostrander.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
"A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the 'make-believe' instinct in children, and will give them a healthy, active interest in 'the simple life.'"
MARCHING WITH MORGAN. How Donald Lovell Became a Soldier of the Revolution. By John L. Veasy.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of Montgomery and Arnold against Quebec.
COSY CORNER SERIES
It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain only the very highest and purest literature,—stories that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with them in their joys and sorrows.
The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and each volume has a separate attractive cover design.
Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50
By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark.)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region.
THE GIANT SCISSORS
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."
TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY.
Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
MILDRED'S INHERITANCE.
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS.
The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people.
AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES.
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls.
BIG BROTHER.
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT.
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
THE STORY OF DAGO.
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT.
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE.
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading.
By EDITH ROBINSON
A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS
A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.
A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY
The author introduces this story as follows:
"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another ride,—the ride of Anthony Severn,—which was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
A LOYAL LITTLE MAID
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George Washington.
A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at Charlestown.
A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers.
A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER
The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.
A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT
The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights of olden days.
By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramee)
A DOG OF FLANDERS
A Christmas Story
Too well and favorably known to require description.
THE NURNBERG STOVE
This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
By FRANCES MARGARET FOX
THE LITTLE GIANT'S NEIGHBOURS
A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden.
FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS
A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends.
BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW
A charming story of child life.
BROTHER BILLY
The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty herself.
MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.
HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MULVANEYS
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief.
THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS
Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that made the occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and the funny things the children did in their new environment.
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation errors repaired. Inconsistencies in spelling retained except where noted.
Page 93, "pleasantes" changed to "pleasantest" (of the pleasantest excursions)