CONTENTS.
[LITTLE BETA AND THE LAME GIANT.]
[THE LINE OF GOLDEN LIGHT; OR, THE LITTLE BLIND SISTER.]
[PRINCE HARWEDA AND THE MAGIC PRISON.]
[THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE ENCHANTED MIRROR.]
[LITTLE BLESSED-EYES; OR, THE FAIRY'S BIRTHDAY GIFT.]
[THE FAIR WHITE CITY; OR, A STORY OF THE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.]
[THE LOVING CUP WHICH WAS MADE OF IRON.]
[HANS AND THE FOUR BIG GIANTS.]
[STORY OF THE SMALL GREEN CATERPILLAR AND THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE]
[THE DISCONTENTED MILL WINDOW.]
[THE STRANGE STORY OF A WONDERFUL SEA-GOD.]
[THE VISION OF DANTE.]
[Stories of Heroes.]
[HOW LITTLE CEDRIC BECAME A KNIGHT.]
[STORY OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.]
[A STORY OF DECORATION DAY FOR THE LITTLE CHILDREN OF TO-DAY.]
[Books by the Same Author.]
[Works by Denton J. Snider]
LITTLE BETA AND THE LAME GIANT.
Near the top of a high, high mountain there lived a great giant. He was a very wonderful giant indeed. From the door of his rocky cave he could look into the distance and see for miles and miles over the surrounding country, even to the point where the land touched the great ocean, yet so clearly that he could observe the smile or the frown on a child's face three miles away. More wonderful still, he could look through the darkest cloud which ever covered the sky and see the sun still shining beyond and above it. And then his hands! Oh how I wish you could have seen his hands! They were so large and strong. Such wonderful hands, too! With them he could lift up a rock as big as this room and set it to one side. Sometimes his fingers could make the sweetest kind of music come from a crude violin which he had fashioned for himself.
Then, too, he knew so much, and he knew it well. I don't believe that ten of the wisest men that our universities ever sent out could have told you such extraordinary things. He knew all about every plant which grew on the mountain, and just where the rich mines of gold and silver were hidden inside the mountain. He could have pointed out to you which pebbles could be polished into emeralds and topazes and sapphires and which were worthless. Had you asked him he could have taken you to the secret spring from which flowed the sparkling stream of healing waters, sought by all the sick folks in the country round. He was such a wonderful giant that it would take me the whole day to tell you of all the things which he could do—but—he was lame and somehow could never get down the mountain to where the ordinary mortal lived. So for ages he had been alone upon his mountain top, seeing all the people below him, loving them with all his heart, and knowing just what would help them, yet never being able to come near to them.
In one of the valleys of the great mountain lived a little maiden called Beta. She was so small that most people thought her a young child and so weak that she could not even carry a bucket of water from the well to the house. Then too, she was a very plain looking little girl, not at all pretty. Her mother used to say to her: "My dear daughter, you are neither rich, nor clever, nor beautiful, therefore you must learn to be useful to others if you would be loved."
The little maiden often wondered how she was to be of any use to the people about her. She would say to herself, "I have no money to give to them; my hands are not skilled enough to do much work for them and my brain is not quick, therefore I can not give them beautiful thoughts which will help them." Still she was a loving-hearted little girl, and love, you know, always finds a way to be helpful.
One day it occurred to her that she could gather some wild flowers and take them to the old woman who lived all alone at the end of the village and who was so deaf that nobody ever tried to talk to her.
With this thought in mind she started out in search of the brightest flowers she could find. She climbed the mountain side and gathered a whole armful of beautiful yellow golden-rod and purple asters and red Indian pinks. These she carried joyfully to the little house at the end of the village. They made the dingy old room take on a look of warmth and happiness. Gay as they were, however, the face of the old deaf woman was brighter still as she said, "Bless you, my child, bless you! Who but little Beta would ever have thought of bringing flowers to me."
The next day Beta thought she would take some flowers to the blind weaver who made all the carpets that the villagers used. "This time," she said to herself, "I must hunt for the flowers which have a sweet odor, as he cannot see their gay colors." So she gathered some wild roses and some sweet scented violets and some witch hazel. As she entered his small shop he lifted his head from his work and said, "Ah me, what is this I smell? It has been many a day since I have been near enough to the mountain's own flowers to breathe in their perfume." Beta placed them in a mug near his loom and as she ran home she was very happy, yet she hardly knew why.
After this she went daily to the mountain to gather flowers for some dear soul who could not go out to get them. Sometimes they were taken to the gentle mother who had so many children that she never found time to leave her home. Sometimes they went to the village church and made the Sunday seem more beautiful than other days. Each time she climbed higher and higher as she had soon learned that the rarer and more beautiful flowers could only be found far up the mountain. At last one day, when she had climbed farther than she had ever ventured before, she suddenly came upon the lame giant sitting on a large stump in front of his cave. In his hand was his violin, but he was not playing; his face wore a thoughtful, almost a sad look.
Beta was so frightened that the flowers dropped from her hands and she nearly stopped breathing. She had never before in all her life, seen a real, live giant. He was so big that she could hardly believe her own eyes as she looked at him. Her first impulse was to run down the mountain as quickly as possible, but somehow, the very sight of such a wonderful being held her spell-bound, so she stood motionless, gazing at him from behind a huge rock.
Soon he put his violin in position under his chin and taking up his bow began to play. He played so softly and sweetly that little Beta felt sure he could not be wicked and cruel as were the giants she had read about. Little by little she came shyly toward him. As soon as he saw her he laid down his violin and held out his hand, smiling as he did so. "Come near to me, child," he said, "I will not hurt you," Beta thus encouraged, came slowly forward.
"Tell me, little one," said he gently, "from whence came you, and how did you find your way so far up the mountain side? None but strong mountain guides have ever before come near my cave." "I was gathering flowers," answered little Beta, "and I thought I might find some blue forget-me-nots among these rocks." "So you have learned already, have you, that forget-me-nots can best be found near the mountain tops." With that he laughed softly to himself. His laugh was such a kindly laugh that it took away all fear and made Beta feel quite at home with him. "What is your name?" said she, "and why do you live up here? Do you not sometimes get lonesome?" The great giant did not answer her, but began talking about something else. In a short time he had led the little maiden into telling him all about herself and the people of the village and the flower gathering. It was not until he rose to point out to her where forget-me-nots could be found in abundance, that she noticed he was lame. She had soon gathered a whole apron full of the beautiful flowers and bidding him good-bye she climbed down the mountain, sometimes slipping and sliding, but always holding fast to the hem of her apron that the flowers might not be lost.
Many times after that she climbed the mountain to the cave of the giant and sat on a little stone at his feet while he told her stories of things which had happened in the village long before any of the people who lived in it were born. She loved best to listen to the tales of gods and heroes of the olden times. Then when she was tired of stories he would show her where the flowers grew most profusely. Little by little he taught her to know the herbs which were good for sick people. Oftentimes they were very humble looking plants which she would have passed by unnoticed. She soon learned how to brew these into drinks and medicines for the feeble and sick folks of the village. Sometimes, though not often, he would play on his violin for her. He always played such strange, weird music that it made her think of Siegfried, and of Lohengrin and the white swan, or of other beautiful beings whom she had never seen, but of whom she had heard.
Each day when she returned to her home she told the people of the village about the wonderful giant who lived so high up the mountain that its top could be seen from his cave door, but they only laughed and said, "Little Beta has been dreaming." Even after they had learned to call upon her for herbs with which to poultice bruised limbs and strengthen weak stomachs or quiet restless fevers, they gave no heed to what she said about the giant.
Years passed by and the little maiden still continued to climb the mountain to learn of the lame giant more and more of what was wonderful and beautiful in the world about her. Much climbing in the open air had made her strong and well. As time wore on, she unconsciously made a path up the mountain side, which of course caused the climbing to be much easier than in the days when she had to scramble over the rocks and push aside the underbrush to make her way up. The path too, was firm and smooth now, with no stones suddenly slipping from beneath her feet and causing painful falls.
At last one day Beta persuaded two or three of her companions to go with her to the cave. Now that there was a respectable path, the undertaking did not seem so foolish as in the days when Beta had gone scrambling up the rocks, nobody knew whither. So they laughingly consented to go, more to please Beta, whom they had learned to love, than with any expectation of seeing a real giant at the end of the journey. Therefore they were greatly astonished when, after much climbing, a sudden turn in the road brought them face to face with a being five times as large as an ordinary man, whose strong hands looked as if they might easily crush any one of them, yet whose kindly face re-assured them.
The great giant received them pleasantly, as they were little Beta's friends, and soon they were eagerly plying him with all sorts of questions. "Did he know those strange creatures, the centaurs, whose bodies were half man and half horse? They had heard that these centaurs lived somewhere among the mountains, and that they could teach any boy how to become a great hero. Had he ever ridden on the back of Pegasus, the flying horse, whom none but giants could ride without tumbling off? Did he ever drink from the fountain of youth which had the power to keep mortals from growing old? Was it true that he could change the dirt beneath their feet into golden money?" All these and many other questions they asked him and to each he gave an answer.
That night, when they returned to the village, they could talk of nothing else but the wonderful giant whose home was near the mountain top. Next day a larger number of the villagers climbed the mountain to the cave, and each succeeding day more were persuaded to make the journey, until everybody in the little valley, that is, everybody who could climb, had visited the lame giant. Then they began to discuss how they could open a road up the mountain to the cave. Finally they decided to unite together and build a broad, winding road, one wide enough to let horses and vehicles pass each other. "Then," said they, "we can take our dear old grandsires and granddames and even our little children up to the good giant that he may teach them also."
Soon the whole village was humming with the sound of pickaxe and spade. Everybody worked and everybody was eager and happy in the work. It took a long time, several years, in fact, before the road was completed, but it was done at last and it proved a greater blessing than they had anticipated, for not only could they now drive up the mountain to the lame giant's cave, but he was able to come down to them! This was a thing of which they had never dreamed, and great was the rejoicing on the occasion of his first visit to them.
Years passed by and the little valley became the most famous spot on the whole earth, so rich was its soil, so remarkable the products it sent out. People came from all over the land now to visit the lame giant and learn of him some of the wonderful secrets which had been hidden for centuries, and all loved him and revered him.
My story would not be complete if I did not tell you that he too became less lame, since the journeys up and down the mountain helped to make him much stronger.
Perhaps some day you may go to this valley yourselves and learn how to do many wonderful things, which now seem impossible to you.
THE LINE OF GOLDEN LIGHT; OR, THE LITTLE BLIND SISTER.
Once upon a time there lived a child whose name was Avilla. She was sweet and loving, and fair to look upon, and had everything in the world to make her happy,—but she had a little blind sister, and Avilla could not be perfectly happy as long as her sister's eyes were closed so that she could not see God's beautiful world, nor enjoy His bright sunshine. Little Avilla kept wondering if there was not something that she could do which would open this blind sister's eyes.
At last, one day, she heard of an old, old woman, nobody knew how old, who had lived for hundreds of years in a dark cave, not many miles away. This queer, old woman knew a secret enchantment, by means of which the blind could receive their sight. The child, Avilla, asked her parents' permission to make a journey to the cave, in order that she might try to persuade the old woman to tell her this secret. "Then," exclaimed she, joyfully, "my dear sister need sit no longer in darkness." Her parents gave a somewhat unwilling consent, as they heard many strange and wicked stories about the old woman. At last, however, one fine spring morning, Avilla started on her journey. She had a long distance to walk, but the happy thoughts in her heart made the time pass quickly, and the soft, cool breeze seemed to be whispering a song to her all the way.
When she came to the mouth of the cave, it looked so dark and forbidding that she almost feared to enter it, but the thought of her little blind sister gave her courage, and she walked in. At first she could see nothing, for all the sunshine was shut out by the frowning rocks that guarded the entrance. Soon, however, she discerned the old woman sitting on a stone chair, spinning a pile of flax into a fine, fine thread. She seemed bent nearly double with age, and her face wore a look of worry and care, which made her appear still older.
The child Avilla came close to her side, and thought, she is so aged that she must be hard of hearing. The old woman did not turn her head, nor stop her spinning. Avilla waited a moment, and then took fresh courage, and said, "I have come to ask you if you will tell me how I can cure my blind sister?" The strange creature turned and stared at her as if she were very much surprised; she then spoke in a deep, hollow voice, so hollow that it sounded as if she had not spoken for a very long time. "Oh," said she with a sneer, "I can tell you well enough, but you'll not do it. People who can see, trouble themselves very little about those who are blind!" This last was said with a sigh, and then she scowled at Avilla until the child's heart began to beat very fast. But the thought of her little blind sister made her brave again, and she cried out, "Oh please tell me. I will do anything to help my dear sister!" The old woman looked long and earnestly at her this time. She then stooped down and searched in the heap of the fine-spun thread which lay at her side until she found the end of it. This she held out to the child, saying, "Take this and carry it all around the world, and when you have done that, come to me and I will show you how your blind sister may be cured." Little Avilla thanked her and eagerly seized the tiny thread, and wrapping it carefully around her hand that she might not lose it, turned and hastened out of the close, damp cave.
She had not traveled far before she looked back to be sure the thread had not broken, it was so thin. Imagine her surprise to see that instead of its being a gray thread of spun flax, it was a thread of golden light, that glittered and shone in the sunlight, as if it were made of the most precious stuff on earth. She felt sure now that it must be a magic thread, and that it somehow would help her to cure her blind sister. So she hastened on, glad and happy.
Soon, however, she approached a dark, dense forest. No ray of sunlight seemed ever to have fallen on the trunks of its trees. In the distance she thought she could hear the growl of bears and the roar of lions. Her heart almost stopped beating. "Oh, I can never go through that gloomy forest," said she to herself, and her eyes filled with tears. She turned to retrace her steps, when the soft breeze which still accompanied her whispered, "Look at the thread you have been carrying! Look at the golden thread!" She looked back, and the bright, tiny line of light seemed to be actually smiling at her, as it stretched across the soft greensward, far into the distance, and, strange to say, each tiny blade of grass which it had touched, had blossomed into a flower. So, as the little girl looked back, she saw a flowery path with a glittering line of golden light running through it. "How beautiful!" she exclaimed, "I did not notice the flowers as I came along, but the enchanted thread will make the next traveler see them."
This thought filled her with such joy that she pushed forward into the dark woods. Sometimes she knocked her head against a tree which stood in her way; sometimes she almost feared she was lost, but every now and then she would look back and the sight of the tiny thread of golden light always renewed her courage. Once in a while she felt quite sure that she could see the nose of some wild beast poking out in front of her, but when she came nearer it proved to be the joint in a tree trunk, or some strange fungus which had grown on a low branch. Then she would laugh at her own fear and go on. One of the wonderful things about the mysterious little thread which she carried in her hand was, that it seemed to open a path behind it, so that one could easily follow in her foot-steps without stumbling over fallen trees, or bumping against living ones. Every now and then a gray squirrel would frisk by her in a friendly fashion, as if to assure her that she was not alone, even in the twilight of the dark woods. By and by she came to the part of the forest where the trees were less dense, and soon she was out in the glad sunshine again.
But now a new difficulty faced her. As far as she could see stretched a low, swampy marsh of wet land. The mud and slime did not look very inviting, but the thought of her little blind sister came to her again, and she bravely plunged into the mire. The dirty, dripping mud clung to her dress and made her feet so heavy that she grew weary lifting them out of it. Sometimes she seemed to be stuck fast, and it was only with a great effort that she could pull out, first one foot, and then the other. A lively green frog hopped along beside her, and seemed to say, in his funny, croaking voice, "Never mind the mud, you'll soon be through it." When she had at last reached the end of the slippery, sticky marsh, and stood once more on firm ground, she looked back at the tiny thread of golden light which trailed along after her. What do you think had happened? Wherever the mysterious and beautiful thread had touched the mud, the water had dried up, and the earth had become firm and hard, so that any other person who might wish to cross the swampy place could walk on firm ground. This made the child Avilla so happy, that she began to sing softly to herself.
Soon, however, her singing ceased. As the day advanced, the air grew hotter and hotter. The trees had long ago disappeared, and now the grass became parched and dry, until at last she found herself in the midst of a dreary desert. For miles and miles the scorching sand stretched on every side. She could not even find a friendly rock in whose shadow she might rest for a time. The blazing sun hurt her eyes and made her head ache, and the hot sand burned her feet. Still she toiled on, cheered by a swarm of yellow butterflies that fluttered just ahead of her. At last the end of the desert was reached, just as the sun disappeared behind a crimson cloud. Dusty and weary, the child Avilla was about to throw herself down on the ground to rest. As she did so, her eyes turned to look once more at the golden thread which had trailed behind her all day on the hot sand. Lo, and behold! What did she see? Tall shade trees had sprung up along the path she had traveled, and each tiny grain of sand that the wonderful thread had touched, was now changed into a diamond, or ruby, or emerald, or some other precious stone. On one side the pathway across the desert shone and glittered, while on the other the graceful trees cast a cool and refreshing shade.
Little Avilla stood amazed as she looked at the beautiful trees and the sparkling gems. All feeling of weariness was gone. The air now seemed mild and refreshing, and she thought that she could hear in the distance some birds singing their evening songs. One by one the bright stars came out in the quiet sky above her head, as if to keep guard while she slept through the night.
The next morning she started forward on her long journey round the world. She traveled quite pleasantly for a while, thinking of how cool and shady the desert path would now be for any one who might have to travel it, and of the precious jewels she had left for some one else to gather up. She could not stop for them herself, she was too anxious to press forward and finish her task, in order that her little blind sister might the sooner see.
After a time she came to some rough rocks tumbled about in great confusion, as if angry giants had hurled them at each other. Soon the path grew steeper and steeper, and the rocks sharper and sharper, until they cut her feet. Before her she could see nothing but more rocks until they piled themselves into a great mountain, which frowned down upon her, as much as to say, "How dare you attempt to climb to my summit?" The brave child hesitated. Just then two strong eagles with outspread wings rose from their nest of sticks on the side of a steep cliff near by, and soared majestically and slowly aloft. As they passed far above her head they uttered a loud cry which seemed to say, "Be brave and strong and you shall meet us at the mountain-top."
Sometimes the ragged edges of the rocks tore her dress, and sometimes they caught the tiny golden thread, and tangled it so that she had to turn back and loosen it from their hold. The road was very steep and she was compelled to sit down every few minutes and get her breath. Still she climbed on, keeping the soaring eagles always in sight. As she neared the top, she turned and looked back at the enchanted thread of golden light which she had carried through all the long, strange journey. Another marvelous thing had happened! The rugged path of sharp, broken rocks, had changed into broad and beautiful white marble steps, over which trailed the shining thread of light. She knew that she had made a pathway up this difficult mountain and her heart rejoiced.
She turned again to proceed on her journey, when, only a short distance in front of her, she saw the dark cave in which lived the strange old woman who had bidden her carry the line of light around the world. She hastened forward, and on entering the cave, she saw the old creature, almost bent double, still spinning the mysterious thread. Avilla ran forward and cried out, "I have done all you told me to do, now give sight to my sister?" The old woman sprang to her feet, seized the thread of golden light and exclaimed, "At last! at last! I am freed!"
Then came so strange and wonderful a change that Avilla could hardly believe her own eyes. Instead of the ugly, cross-looking old crone, there stood a beautiful princess, with long golden hair, and tender blue eyes, her face radiant with joy. Her story was soon told. Hundreds of years ago she had been changed into the bent old woman, and shut up in the dark cave on the mountain-side, because she, a daughter of the King, had been selfish and idle, thinking only of herself, and her punishment had been that she must remain thus disguised and separated from all companions and friends until she could find someone who would be generous and brave enough to take the long, dangerous journey around the world for the sake of others. Her mother had been a fairy princess and had taught her many things which we mortals have yet to learn. She showed the child Avilla how, by dipping the golden thread into a spring of ordinary water, she could change the water into golden water, which glittered and sparkled like liquid sunshine. Filling a pitcher with this they hastened together to where the little blind sister sat in darkness waiting for some one to come and lead her home. The beautiful princess told Avilla to dip her hands into the bowl of enchanted water, and then press them upon the closed eyes of her sister. They opened! And the little blind girl could see!
After that the fairy princess came and lived with little Avilla and her sister, and taught them how to do many wonderful things, of which I have not time to tell you to-day.
PRINCE HARWEDA AND THE MAGIC PRISON.
Little Harweda was born a prince. His father was King over all the land and his mother was the most beautiful Queen the world had ever seen and Prince Harweda was their only child. From the day of his birth everything that love or money could do for him had been done. The very wind of heaven was made to fan over an aeolian harp that it might enter his room, not as a strong fresh breeze, but as a breath of music. Reflectors were so arranged in the windows that twice as much moonlight fell on his crib as on that of any ordinary child. The pillow on which his head rested was made out of the down from humming birds breasts and the water in which his face and hands were washed was always steeped in rose leaves before being brought to the nursery. Everything that could be done was done, and nothing which could add to his ease or comfort was left undone.
But his parents, although they were King and Queen, were not very wise, for they never thought of making the young prince think of anybody but himself and he had never in all his life given up any one of his comforts that somebody else might have a pleasure. So, of course, he grew to be selfish and peevish, and by the time he was five years old he was so disagreeable that nobody loved him. "Dear, dear! what shall we do?" said the poor Queen mother and the King only sighed and answered "Ah, what indeed!" They were both very much grieved at heart for they well knew that little Harweda, although he was a prince, would never grow up to be a really great King unless he could make his people love him.
At last they decided to send for his fairy god-mother and see if she could suggest anything which would cure Prince Harweda of always thinking about himself. "Well, well, well!" exclaimed the god-mother when they had laid the case before her—"This is a pretty state of affairs! and I his god-mother too! Why wasn't I called in sooner?" She then told them that she would have to think a day and a night and a day again before she could offer them any assistance. "But," added she, "if I take the child in charge you must promise not to interfere for a whole year." The King and Queen gladly promised that they would not speak to or even see their son for the required time if the fairy god-mother would only cure him of his selfishness. "We'll see about that," said the god-mother, "Humph, expecting to be a King some day and not caring for anybody but himself—a fine King he'll make!" With that off she flew and the King and Queen saw nothing more of her for a day and a night and another day. Then back she came in a great hurry. "Give me the Prince," said she; "I have his house all ready for him. One month from to-day I'll bring him back to you. Perhaps he'll be cured and perhaps he won't. If he is not cured then we shall try two months next time. We'll see, we'll see." Without any more ado she picked up the astonished young prince and flew away with him as lightly as if he were nothing but a feather or a straw. In vain the poor queen wept and begged for a last kiss. Before she had wiped her eyes, the fairy god-mother and Prince Harweda were out of sight.
They flew a long distance until they reached a great forest. When they had come to the middle of it, down flew the fairy, and in a minute more the young prince was standing on the green grass beside a beautiful pink marble palace that looked something like a good sized summer house.
"This is your home," said the god-mother, "in it you will find everything you need and you can do just as you choose with your time." Little Harweda was delighted at this for there was nothing in the world he liked better than to do as he pleased, so he tossed his cap up into the air and ran into the lovely little house without so much as saying "Thank you" to his god-mother. "Humph," said she as he disappeared, "you'll have enough of it before you are through with it, my fine prince." With that off she flew.
Prince Harweda had no sooner set his foot inside the small rose-colored palace than the iron door shut with a bang and locked itself. For you must know by this time that it was an enchanted house, as of course, all houses are that are built by fairies.
Prince Harweda did not mind being locked in, as he cared very little for the great beautiful outside world, and the new home which was to be all his own was very fine, and he was eager and impatient to examine it. Then too he thought that when he was tired of it, all he would have to do would be to kick on the door and a servant from somewhere would come and open it,—he had always had a servant ready to obey his slightest command.
His fairy god-mother had told him that it was his house, therefore he was interested in looking at everything in it.
The floor was made of a beautiful red copper that shone in the sunlight like burnished gold and seemed almost a dark red in the shadow. He had never seen anything half so fine before. The ceiling was of mother-of-pearl and showed a constant changing of tints of red and blue and yellow and green, all blending into the gleaming white, as only mother-of-pearl can. From the middle of this handsome ceiling hung a large gilded bird cage containing a beautiful bird, which just at this moment was singing a glad song of welcome to the Prince. Harweda, however, cared very little about birds, so he took no notice of the songster.
Around on every side were costly divans with richly embroidered coverings and on which were many sizes of soft down pillows. "Ah," thought the Prince, "here I can lounge at my ease with no one to call me to stupid lessons!" Wonderfully carved jars and vases of wrought gold and silver stood about on the floor and each was filled with a different kind of perfume. "This is delicious," said Prince Harweda. "Now I can have all the sweet odors I want without the trouble of going out into the garden for roses or lilies."
In the center of the room was a fountain of sparkling water which leaped up and fell back into its marble basin with a kind of rhythmical sound that made a faint, dreamy music very pleasant to listen to.
On a table near at hand were various baskets of the most tempting pears and grapes and peaches, and near them were dishes of all kinds of sweetmeats. "Good," said the greedy young prince, "that is what I like best of all," and therewith he fell to eating the fruit and sweetmeats as fast as he could cram them into his mouth. He ate so much he had a pain in his stomach, but strange to say, the table was just as full as when he began, for no sooner did he reach his hand out and take a soft mellow pear or a rich, juicy peach than another pear or peach took its place in the basket. The same thing occurred when he helped himself to chocolate drops or marsh-mallows or any of the other confectionery upon the table. For, of course, if the little palace was enchanted, everything in it was enchanted, also.
When Prince Harweda had eaten until he could eat no more he threw himself down upon one of the couches and an invisible hand gently stroked his hair until he fell asleep. When he awoke he noticed for the first time the walls which, by the way, were really the strangest part of his new home. They had in them twelve long, checkered windows which reached from the ceiling to the floor. The spaces between the windows were filled in with mirrors exactly the same size as the windows, so that the whole room was walled in with windows and looking glasses. Through the three windows that looked to the north could be seen the far distant mountains Beautiful, as they were called, towering high above the surrounding country; sometimes their snow-covered tops were pink or creamy yellow as they caught the rays of the sunrise; sometimes they were dark purple or blue as they reflected the storm cloud. From the three windows that faced the south could be seen the great ocean, tossing and moving, constantly catching a thousand gleams of silver from the moonlight. Again and again, each little wave would be capped with white from its romp with the wind. Yet, as the huge mountains seemed to reach higher than man could climb, so the vast ocean seemed to stretch out farther than any ship could possibly carry him. The eastern windows gave each morning a glorious vision of sky as the darkness of the night slowly melted into the still gray dawn, and that changed into a golden glow and that in turn became a tender pink. It was really the most beautiful as well as the most mysterious sight on earth if one watched it closely. The windows on the west looked out upon a great forest of tall fir trees and at the time of sunset the glorious colors of the sunset sky could be seen between the dark green branches.
But little Prince Harweda cared for none of these beautiful views. In fact, he scarcely glanced out of the windows at all, he was so taken up with the broad handsome mirrors, for in each of them he could see himself reflected and he was very fond of looking at himself in a looking glass. He was much pleased when he noticed that the mirrors were so arranged that each one not only reflected his whole body, head, arms, feet and all, but that it also reflected his image as seen in several of the other mirrors. He could thus see his front and back and each side, all at the same time. As he was a handsome boy he enjoyed these many views of himself immensely, and would stand and sit and lie down just for the fun of seeing the many images of himself do the same thing.
He spent so much time looking at and admiring himself in the wonderful looking-glasses that he had very little time for the books and games which had been provided for his amusement. Hours were spent each day first before one mirror and then another, and he did not notice that the windows were growing narrower and the mirrors wider until the former had become so small that they hardly admitted light enough for him to see himself in the looking-glass. Still, this did not alarm him very much as he cared nothing whatever for the outside world. It only made him spend more time before the mirror, as it was now getting quite difficult for him to see himself at all. The windows at last became mere slits in the wall and the mirrors grew so large that they not only reflected little Harweda but all of the room besides in a dim, indistinct kind of a way.
Finally, however, Prince Harweda awoke one morning and found himself in total darkness. Not a ray of light came from the outside and of course, not an object in the room could be seen. He rubbed his eyes and sat up to make sure that he was not dreaming. Then he called loudly for some one to come and open a window for him, but no one came. He got up and groped his way to the iron door and tried to open it, but it was, as you know, locked. He kicked it and beat upon it, but he only bruised his fists and hurt his toes. He grew quite angry now. How dare any one shut him, a prince, up in a dark prison like this! He abused his fairy god-mother, calling her all sorts of horrid names. Then he upbraided his father and mother, the King and Queen, for letting him go away with such a god-mother. In fact, he blamed everybody and everything but himself for his present condition, but it was of no use. The sound of his own voice was his only answer. The whole of the outside world seemed to have forgotten him.
As he felt his way back to his couch he knocked over one of the golden jars which had held the liquid perfume, but the perfume was all gone now and only an empty jar rolled over the floor. He laid himself down on the divan but its soft pillows had been removed and a hard iron frame-work received him. He was dismayed and lay for a long time thinking of what he had best do with himself. All before him was blank darkness, as black as the darkest night you ever saw. He reached out his hand to get some fruit to eat, but only one or two withered apples remained on the table—was he to starve to death? Suddenly he noticed that the tinkling music of the fountain had ceased. He hastily groped his way over to it and he found in place of the dancing, running stream stood a silent pool of water. A hush had fallen upon everything about him, a dead silence was in the room. He threw himself down upon the floor and wished that he were dead also. He lay there for a long, long time.
At last he heard, or thought he heard, a faint sound. He listened eagerly. It seemed to be some tiny creature not far from him, trying to move about. For the first time for nearly a month he remembered the bird in its gilded cage. "Poor little thing," he cried as he sprang up, "You too are shut within this terrible prison. This thick darkness must be as hard for you to bear as it is for me." He went towards the cage and as he approached it the bird gave a sad little chirp.
"That's better than nothing," said the boy, "you must need some water to drink, poor thing," continued he as he filled its drinking cup. "This is all I have to give you."
Just then he heard a harsh, grating sound, as of rusty bolts sliding with difficulty out of their sockets, and then faint rays of light not wider than a hair began to shine between the heavy plate mirrors. Prince Harweda was filled with joy. "Perhaps, perhaps," said he softly, "I may yet see the light again. Ah, how beautiful the outside world would look to me now!"
The next day he was so hungry that he began to eat one of the old withered apples, and as he bit it he thought of the bird, his fellow-prisoner. "You must be hungry, too, poor little thing," said he as he divided his miserable food and put part of it into the bird's cage. Again came the harsh, grating sound, and the boy noticed that the cracks of light were growing larger. Still they were only cracks, nothing of the outside world could be seen. Still it was a comfort not to have to grope about in total darkness. Prince Harweda felt quite sure that the cracks of light were a little wider, and on going up to one and putting his eye close to it as he would to a pinhole in a paper, he was rejoiced to find that he could tell the greenness of the grass from the blue of the sky. "Ah, my pretty bird, my pretty bird!" he cried joyfully, "I have had a glimpse of the great beautiful outside world and you shall have it too."
With these words he climbed up into a chair and loosening the cage from the golden chain by which it hung, he carried it carefully to the nearest crack of light and placed it close to the narrow opening. Again was heard the harsh, grating sound and the walls moved a bit and the windows were now at least an inch wide. At this the poor Prince clasped his hands with delight. He sat himself down near the bird cage and gazed out of the narrow opening. Never before had the trees looked so tall and stately, or the white clouds floating through the sky so lovely. The next day as he was carefully cleaning the bird's cage so that the little creature might be somewhat more comfortable, the walls again creaked and groaned and the mirrors grew narrower by just so many inches as the windows widened. But Prince Harweda saw only the flood of sunshine that poured in, and the added beauty of the larger landscape. He cared nothing whatever now for the stupid mirrors which could only reflect what was placed before them. Each day he found something new and beautiful in the view from the narrow windows. Now it was a squirrel frisking about and running up some tall tree trunk so rapidly that Prince Harweda could not follow it with his eyes; again it was a mother bird feeding her young. By this time the windows were a foot wide or more. One day as two white doves suddenly soared aloft in the blue sky the poor little canary who had now become the tenderly cared for comrade of the young Prince, gave a pitiful little trill. "Dear little fellow," cried Prince Harweda, "do you also long for your freedom? You shall at least be as free as I am." So saying, he opened the cage door and the bird flew out.
The Prince laughed as he watched it flutter about from chair to table and back to chair again. He was so much occupied with the bird that he did not notice that the walls had again shaken and the windows were now their full size, until the added light caused him to look around. He turned and saw the room looking almost exactly as it did the day he entered it with so much pride because it was all his own. Now it seemed close and stuffy and he would gladly have exchanged it for the humblest home in his father's kingdom where he could meet people and hear them talk and see them smile at each other, even if they should take no notice of him. One day soon after this the little bird fluttered up against the window pane and beat his wings against it in a vain effort to get out. A new idea seized the young Prince, and taking up one of the golden jars he went to the window and struck on one of its checkered panes of glass with all his force. "You shall be free, even if I can not," said he to the bird. Two or three strong blows shivered the small pane and the bird swept out into the free open air beyond. "Ah, my pretty one, how glad I am that you are free at last," exclaimed the prince as he stood watching the flight of his fellow-prisoner. His face was bright with the glad, unselfish joy over the bird's liberty. The small, pink marble palace shook from top to bottom, the iron door flew open and the fresh wind from the sea rushed in and seemed to catch the boy in its invisible arms. Prince Harweda could hardly believe his eyes as he sprang to the door. There stood his fairy god-mother, smiling and with her hand reached out toward him. "Come, my god-child," said she gently, "we shall now go back to your father and mother, the King and Queen, and they will rejoice with us that you have been cured of your terrible disease of selfishness."
Great indeed was the rejoicing in the palace when Prince Harweda was returned to them a sweet, loving boy, kind and thoughtful to all about him. Many a struggle he had with himself and many a conquest over the old habit of selfishness, but as time passed by he grew to be a great and wise king, loving and tenderly caring for all his people and loved by them in return.
THE LITTLE GRAY GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE ENCHANTED MIRROR.
Nobody knew whence she came or whither she went. All that any one of the children could have told you about her, was that oftentimes they looked up from their play and there she stood, in her soft misty gray gown, and still softer, long, gray cloak and shadowy gray veil which always reminded them of thin smoke. Sometimes her face could scarcely be seen behind this mysterious veil, and sometimes it shone quite clear and distinct. This was always the case when any one of them had done some unselfish or brave act and thought no one knew it. And yet, if happy with the thought, he or she chanced to look up, there would be the Little Gray Grandmother, her face fairly shining with the glad smile of approval. Then suddenly she would disappear and they would not hear of her for days and days.
There was a large family of them, and they had sharp eyes too, but none of them ever saw her coming until, as I said before, there she stood in the midst of them. They lived near the great sea, and its mist often covered the coast for miles and miles so that nothing but the dim outline of objects could be seen. Therefore, their city cousins had fallen into the way of laughing at them and saying the Little Gray Grandmother was only a bit of the sea fog left behind after a damp day, but they knew better.
Although she had never spoken to them, had she not smiled at them, and sometimes looked sad when she came upon them suddenly and found any one of them doing a mean or greedy deed, and ah, how stern her eyes were the day she found Wilhelm telling a lie! Nobody could make them believe that she was only a dream which came from a bit of sea fog! Then, too, had she not left that thimble for Mai which was no sooner placed on her thimble-finger than it began to push the needle so fast that a seam a yard long would be finished before you could say, "Jack Robinson," unless you had practiced saying it very often.
Who else was it that brought those tall leather boots for Gregory which helped him to run so fast when sent on an errand that even his dog, Oyster, could not keep up with him? And as for Lelia, everybody knew that it was just after the Little Gray Grandmother had paid them a visit Lelia had found herself holding that bottle of Attic salt from far-away Greece, two grains of which placed on the end of her tongue, caused good humor and wit to flow with every word she said until she was equal to a bit of sunshine on a dark day.
All of them were as certain as certain could be that she had presented Doodle when he was a very little child with those soft, warm mittens which somehow grew as he grew and so always just fitted his hands. What wonderful mittens they were, too! All Doodle had to do on the coldest day was to reach out his hand in his hearty, cheery way, to any one, and no matter how cold that person might be, even if his teeth were chattering with the cold, he was sure to feel a warm glow all over his body. This was how Doodle got into the way of taking care of all the lame dogs and sick cats that came along; and why all the old people liked him. They said he made them feel young again. And Tom and Wilhelm and the rest of them, had not the Little Gray Grandmother left a gift for each of them?
Ah, but they were a happy family! What if they did have to eat herring and dry bread all the year round, with potatoes now and then thrown in, and had to live in a hut, didn't they have a Little Gray Grandmother, when so many city children, who thought themselves fine because they lived in big houses, had never even heard of her!
Now, you can understand why all the children were gathered together eagerly looking at something which lay on the sand before them. The Little Gray Grandmother had been there and had left something. What was it? They could not tell. It glittered like the surface of a pool of water when it is quite still and the sun shines down upon it, and they could see their faces reflected on it just as they had often seen them in the well back of the house, only this mirrored their faces much more clearly than the well did. What was it? For whom had the Little Gray Grandmother intended it? These were the questions they could not answer. So they decided to take it in to the dear-mother and have her explain it to them.
Ah, the dear-mother, she must know, she knew almost everything and what she didn't know she always tried to find out for them. That was the finest thing about the dear-mother. Of course she cooked their food for them, and made their clothes, and nursed any of them when they were ill, and all such things, but the great thing about her was that she never seemed too busy to look at what they brought her and was always ready to answer their questions. Therefore they with one accord decided to take this new gift into the house and ask the dear-mother about it.
Of course she admired it; she always admired everything they brought her, if it was only a star-fish or a new kind of sea-weed. She said it was made of some sort of precious metal, and that it seemed to be a mirror such as they used in olden times before looking-glasses had been invented. "Perhaps," she added, "it has been washed up from the sea." But the children cried, "Oh, no, the Little Gray Grandmother left it." They were very, very sure of that. But for whom had it been left? Even the dear-mother could not settle this question.
At last it was decided that it should be hung on the cottage wall that all might use it; so there it hung for many a year, and ah, such strange things as the children saw reflected in it! It was not at all like an ordinary mirror, not in the least like anything you ever saw, and yet, perchance you may have seen something like it. How do I know?
Well, at any rate the children had never heard of such a wonderful mirror before. It had a queer way of swinging itself on its hinge—I forgot to tell you that it had been fastened to the wall by a hinge so that its face could be turned toward the east or the west window, and thus let the children see themselves in the morning as well as the evening light. At first they thought this was a fine idea, but sometimes it was not exactly comfortable to have the small mirror suddenly swing round and face them when they didn't care to be faced.
For instance, when Mai had been working hard all day and because she felt tired, spoke crossly to the little brothers, it was not at all agreeable to look up and see the face of a bear reflected in the silver mirror, or when Gregory had been boasting of something fine he was going to accomplish, to catch a glimpse of a barnyard rooster strutting about as if he were indeed the master of the farm. Somehow it made Gregory feel foolish even if the rest of the children did not see the image in the mirror. Once little Beta came in ahead of the others, and, finding some apples that the father had brought home, seized the largest one and began to devour it. A swing of the silver mirror brought its polished surface before her eyes, and instead of a reflection of her own chubby face, she saw a pig greedily devouring a pile of apples. She couldn't understand it, and yet it made her feel ashamed and she quietly laid the apple back on the table.
But the pictures were not all disagreeable ones. Sometimes the small silver mirror reflected beautiful pictures. One bright summer day when Mai had stayed indoors all the morning to help the dear-mother finish a jacket for Beta, when she was longing with all her heart to be out in the sunshine, she chanced to glance up at the small mirror, and there was the vision of a beautiful Saint, with a golden light around her head such as Mai had seen in a church window once when she was in the city. The smile on the face was radiant. In a moment the vision had disappeared and only the shining surface of silver remained.
One day Gregory rowed little Beta across the bay to the large town on the other side, and did without his dinner that with his little farthing he might pay for the privilege of letting her climb the light-house stairs and see how big the world was. That night when they reached home, tired and happy, Beta looked into the mirror and there she saw the good St. Christopher wading through a dark stream of water with the little Christ-child on his shoulder, and somehow the face of St. Christopher was Gregory's face. As she cried, "Look!" she pointed to the mirror, but Gregory could see nothing but its shining surface. Still, Beta ever afterwards called him "St. Christopher," little dreaming that in years to come he would truly be the means by which many little children were carried safely across the dark streams.
At another time Doodle had rescued a poor frightened cat from some boys on the beach who were tormenting her, and even though they jeered at him and called him "chicken-hearted" he had taken the little creature up in his arms and brought her in to the dear mother. As he passed the small silver mirror, a picture of a young knight shone in the depths of its surface, with a face so strong and pure and brave that Doodle stopped to admire it and wonder how it came there. Again and again when the children did a kind, or a truthful, or loving thing, the mirror reflected for a moment some beautiful image which instantly disappeared if it were spoken of. Somehow it constantly reminded them of the glad look in the eyes of the Little Gray Grandmother when she found them playing peacefully and happily together. And strange to say, the Little Gray Grandmother never came again after the small silver mirror had been hung on the wall. Probably she thought they did not need her any longer.
Many years passed by and the children were all grown, when the dear-mother was called to pass on to her heavenly home. As they gathered around her death bed she asked them to hand her the small silver mirror which still hung on the home wall. She took it and broke it into pieces, giving a piece to each of of the eight children, and each piece immediately became a full-sized mirror as large as the first one had been. These she told them to keep always with them, and then with a gentle smile she passed away. As they separated to go out into the world, each one took his or her small silver mirror and hung it in his or her private bed room, that each might look into it and know, for certain, whether that day had been spent for the cause of the right or the wrong.
LITTLE BLESSED-EYES; OR, THE FAIRY'S BIRTHDAY GIFT.
In the olden times when fairies could be seen by mortals, they often took upon themselves the office of sponsors, god-fathers and god-mothers, to new-born children. In such cases, the child adopted was sure, sooner or later, to receive some wonderful gift from his fairy god-mother.
One bright, Spring morning, a sweet boy baby came into a humble home, made ready for him by love. As his mother looked fondly upon the wee form at her side she thought, naturally enough, of his future, and wondered what kind of a man he would become. "How I wish," said she softly, "that I could give to you, my darling child, the richest gift on earth, so that Kings and Emperors might be proud to call you their companion." "So you can," said a gentle voice beside her. The mother was startled by the words, for she thought herself alone when she uttered the wish. She looked to the right, then to the left,—nobody had entered the room. "Ah, silly woman that I am," sighed she. "I have let my own thoughts answer me." Again she looked down at her babe.
"I can give him the greatest and most wonderful gift on earth," said the same gentle voice. This time the mother was quite sure that some one had spoken, though the voice was unlike any human voice she had ever heard. It was so soft and musical that it sounded like the tinkling of silver bells. The poor woman was quite frightened and drew her babe closer to her side as she peered into the shadowy corners of the room.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the silvery voice, "Are you afraid of me!" Following the sound this time, the mother's eyes fell upon a tiny creature no larger than your thumb who sat perched upon a post of the bed. The body of this strange, little being was as perfect as that of any child. From its two shoulders extended two wings as thin as gauze, but gleaming with every tint of the rainbow. Upon its head was a slender gold crown, and its small face just at this moment was bright with a merry smile.
The mother knew instantly that it was one of the good fairies who were reported to be present at the birth of every babe, and who, if seen and recognized, were sure to bring some good fortune to the child, but if unnoticed, went away sorrowing, because they were then powerless to help the infant.
"What will you do for my child?" cried the mother. "Will you give him comfort and ease and fill his days with pleasure?"
"Ah no," replied the fairy, "I will give him something far better than pleasant food and a soft bed and fine clothes!"
"Will you make him great and powerful so that men may bow down before him?" said the mother eagerly.
"No! no!" again replied the fairy shaking her head. "I will give him something of far more worth than fame and power!"
"You will make him rich, so rich that he will never have to work?" exclaimed the mother.
"Nay, good woman," said the fairy seriously. "These are but foolish things for which you ask. My gift is greater than all of these put together. Pleasure and influence and wealth a man may earn for himself—and he may be very miserable after he gets them, too," added she, with a shrug of the shoulders. "The gift that I would bestow upon your son will make him the happiest of mortals and will give him the power of making many, many others happy!"
"Tell me," cried the mother, "how will you make him so happy? No human being is ever sure of happiness."
"Let me kiss him upon his two eyelids as he lies there asleep," replied the fairy, "and do you the same each returning birthday and all will be well."
The mother hesitated; a step was heard approaching the door.
"Quick, quick!" exclaimed the fairy. "I must be off before that door opens, as it is forbidden us ever to be seen by more than one mortal at a time. Shall I give him the magic kiss or not?"
"Yes!" cried the excited mother, "I trust you will do no harm to my precious child."
Instantly the fairy fluttered down from the post of the bed, and impressing a kiss upon each of the closed eyelids of the child, she said, softly, "He shall be called 'Blessed-Eyes.'"
The door of the room swung back upon its hinges, the father of the child entered with a cheery "Good morning" to wife and babe, the fairy was gone.—The mother silently pondered over what had happened and when the christening day came, she said his name was to be "Blessed-Eyes."
Most of her friends and relatives thought this was a very queer name indeed to give to a child, and even went so far as to argue with the father that the little one ought to be named "John" or "James" after one or the other of his two grandfathers. But as the boy grew into a sweet, healthy childhood, loving and kind to everyone, they were gradually reconciled to the name, and little Blessed-Eyes became a general favorite. He was always sunshiny, always happy. His mother never failed on each new birthday to rise early, even before the day dawned, and to go to his bedside, and, bending over him, kiss his two eyelids as the fairy had bidden. At such times she imagined that she heard a faint sound as of a far-away chorus of strange, silvery voices, singing:
"Love well, love well, love well,
That the heart within may swell,
Love well, love well, love well!"
Still, she was never quite sure but that it was merely the first mellow tones of the church bell in a distant village.
Long before her child could talk the mother noticed how closely he observed everything about him, and how quickly he responded to the faintest smile upon her face. As he grew older it was a delight to take him out for a walk. He was constantly discovering some new beauty in the landscape. He saw the first red glow of the evening sunset. His eyes were the first to spy out the early spring flower, even before the snow was off the ground. In the late autumn when the wind was sharp and cold and the woods were bare, he was sure to bring home some red mountain berries, or some withered leaf into a corner of which a cunning little caterpillar had wrapped himself, sewing it over and over as one would sew a bag. Then he would tell gleefully how the frost had touched the ponds and changed them into smooth glass. Often on a cold winter morning he would waken his mother by clapping his hands with joy over the frost-pictures on the window pane. Sometimes in the evening twilight he would ask his mother if the stars were pinholes in the floor of heaven through which the glory shone. No stone nor cloud nor stream nor tree but gave him pleasure.
"Ah," thought the mother, "this is the fairy's birthday gift. She has made his eyes to see the beautiful everywhere." "More than that, far more than that! Kings and princes shall yet call him great!" was whispered gently in her ear. The mother was amazed. Who could have heard her unuttered thoughts? She looked up, but she only saw a robin hopping about in a branch of the tree overhead. Still she seemed to hear again the soft but distant singing of the words,
"Love well, love well, love well,
That the heart within may swell,
Love well, love well, love well."
"Surely," said she, half aloud, "who could help loving the child. He has indeed, blessed eyes."
As the boy grew older he seemed somehow to know the people about him as nobody else knew them. He was always finding out the best that was in each of them. Somehow he had a way of helping all the other lads out of their difficulties. For instance, early one morning when he chanced to be passing the old basket maker's, he heard the shop boy speaking in loud, angry tones to the baskets, abusing them for being so contrary and ill-shaped. Blessed-Eyes paused, and looking through the open door he saw the poor apprentice struggling to fit a round cover on to a square basket and a square cover on to a round basket.
"Let me help you," said Blessed-Eyes cheerily, "I think you have made a mistake, that's all. This cover was intended for that basket, and that cover for this basket." With these words he put the round cover on to the round basket, and the square cover on to the square basket, and each fitted snugly into its place.
"How clever you are, Blessed-Eyes," said the apprentice, "I have been working over these baskets for the last half hour." Without more ado he put them upon his shoulder, and started on his errand, which was to deliver them to the gardener at the King's palace.
Years passed by, changing little Blessed-Eyes into a tall young man, and each succeeding year added to the wonderful power which his eyes possessed, of seeing the best that was in everything and everybody. He was the friend of rich and poor. All sought his companionship, for he was constantly pointing out to them so many beautiful things in the world about them which they would never have seen but for him. All loved him dearly, for he was just as constantly finding the best that their inner world contained, and encouraging them to live according to their noblest ideals of how true men and women should live. So, you see, the fairy's Birthday Gift was indeed a great, and wonderful Gift.
THE FAIR WHITE CITY;
OR, A STORY OF THE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.
Many of you will remember the story I told you of Little Blessed-Eyes and the wonderful power his fairy god-mother gave him of seeing instantly the best that was in everybody. To-day I want to tell you of some of the remarkable things which happened after Blessed-Eyes had become chief counsellor to the King, for, of course, the King was glad to keep near him a man with such power as that.
Long years have passed since our last story and Blessed-Eyes had been the King's Chief Counsellor for ten years, or more, and the capital had become the most renowned city on earth. One day Blessed-Eyes was walking through its streets when he heard a deep sigh as of some one in great trouble. He turned, and looking around saw a poor laboring man with his head bent forward upon his hands, as he sat on the doorstep of a house near by.
"What is the matter?" said Blessed-Eyes gently, stopping in front of the man.
"Ah," replied the poor man, "I can find nothing to do in this great city. All the places in the shops and stores are already taken and my children are starving for want of bread."
"What large, strong arms you have!" said Blessed-Eyes.
"Yes," replied the man, "but of what use are they to me. One can measure tape or weigh sugar with much smaller arms than mine."
"Why do you not seek the King?" continued Blessed-Eyes, "and offer to go to yonder mountain range and quarry the beautiful white marble which lies there. I have heard that it is the most beautiful marble in the whole world. Those great strong arms of yours could do a grand work in the King's quarry."
The man's face softened at once. "I will go," he said.
The King gladly accepted the strong man's offer and the next day started him out with crow-bars and drills to the mountain district, and soon there came a wagon load of beautiful white marble, and then another and then another. The King was so pleased with the marble that he sent ten men to help the strong man in his work, and then twenty and then a hundred, until the mountain tops rang with the sturdy blows of the quarrymen. And soon a vast pile of the glistening, white marble had been collected in the King's stoneyard, and the poor and discouraged man with the strong arms had become the most famous stonemason in the world.
Not long after this, Blessed-Eyes and the King walked one fine evening to look at the shining white marble and to plan how best it could be used to make beautiful the city. As they reached the tall white pile, they noticed a man standing beside it, evidently measuring it carefully with his eye.
"It is a fine sight," said Blessed-Eyes, "is it not?"
The man turned and looked sadly at him for a moment, then taking a tablet from his pocket he wrote on it: "I cannot hear a word that you say; I am totally deaf, and therefore I am the loneliest man in all the King's realm."
Blessed-Eyes' heart was stirred with pity for the lonely man. He took the pencil and wrote on the tablet: "You evidently have a very correct eye for measurements."
"Yes," replied the man, as soon as he had read these words, "I can tell the difference of a hair's breath in the height of any two lines, and I think I could estimate the weight of any one of these great stones within half an ounce."
At this Blessed-Eyes seized the tablet and wrote rapidly on it these words: "You have such good eyes for measurements and weights you would surely be a good builder. This is the King. Why do you not offer to make for him some beautiful buildings out of this white marble?"
The lonely man's face brightened; he turned to the King. A short consultation showed the King that he had found a treasure, and the new architect was set to work at once drawing plans for several buildings which were to surround a charming lake that was in the King's park.
In a few months the quiet park became the scene of busy activity. Scores of men were laying foundations; others were hewing the white marble into shapely blocks; others were polishing portions of it into tall and shining white pillars, and others still, were carving beautiful capitals for the same. All were working under the direction of the new architect whose wonderful designs had so inspired the King that he decided to build the grandest and handsomest group of buildings which the nations of the earth had ever seen. When all was done and the buildings stood in their full majestic beauty with their long colonnades shining in the sunlight and their graceful towers rising airily in the upper air and their beautiful gilded domes crowning all, the scene resembled fairyland. The people could hardly believe their eyes as they wandered through the place. They came from the farthest ends of the earth to enjoy its beauty, for the sad and lonely deaf man had now become the most famous architect in the whole world, and was surrounded by friends and admirers, who rejoiced in his power to create such bewildering scenes of beauty. His face lost its sad expression and each time that he met Blessed-Eyes there came a joyful smile upon it.
Handsome and attractive as were the outsides of these buildings, within they were cold and bare, and Blessed-Eyes and the King often consulted as to how the inner walls might be made as beautiful as were the outer ones. It chanced one day that as Blessed-Eyes was walking alone through the "Court of Honor," (this was the name now given to that part of the lake which was surrounded by the white marble buildings), he observed a group of boys and young men, evidently having great sport with some object in their midst. When he came near he saw it was an embarrassed and harassed looking stranger whom they were tormenting.
With a feeling of indignation he pressed forward into their midst.
"What is your difficulty, sir?" he said quietly and respectfully.
The stranger blushed and faltered, then he stammeringly said:—
"I-I-I ca-ca-canno-no-not sp-speak your language wi-wi-withou-ou-out st—st-stammering."
At this the men roared with laughter. Again Blessed-Eyes turned an angry look upon them, and quietly slipping his arm through the stranger's he said: "Will you walk with me? I have something to say to you." And the two walked off together, leaving the crowd rather abashed and ashamed of its rudeness. When they had gone some distance in silence, Blessed-Eyes said: "As soon as I saw you I noticed you had strong, shapely and artistic hands. Surely you must be able to draw and paint." The stranger's face lighted up with a radiant smile.
"How very odd," he stammered, "th-th-that you should see I was an artist, I had hoped to get work here."
Blessed-Eyes took him at once to the King, and soon the three were deep in plans for decorating and making beautiful the inner walls of the wonderful white buildings which surrounded the "Court of Honor." It was not long before the stammering stranger had proved that he was not only an artist but a master artist. Lesser artists and new pupils flocked to him from all parts of the land and soon the interior of the handsome buildings presented scenes as busy as the outside had before shown. In less than a year the walls of all the buildings had been decorated in soft, beautiful colors, and on many of them were wonderful pictures of far-away landscapes; of beautiful sunset clouds; of fair, floating angel forms, and, best of all, true and lifelike portraits of the noblest men and women of the nation. Long before this was accomplished the stammering stranger had become recognized as the greatest artist of the age.
The next question which arose in the mind of the King and his ever faithful counsellor, Blessed-Eyes, was as to the best way to use the now truly magnificent buildings, so that all the people might enjoy them. While still full of these thoughts, Blessed-Eyes one day noticed a man wearily pacing up and down the court with bowed head, and hands clasped behind his body. On coming nearer Blessed-Eyes saw that he was blind. At the sound of his approaching foot-steps the man stopped and said:—
"Ah! that is the step of Blessed-Eyes! Much as he has been able to help his fellow men, there is nothing that he can do for me!"
"Indeed," said Blessed-Eyes, cheerily, "I am not so sure of that. If you can tell a man by his step you must certainly have very good hearing."
"Ah!" said the man, "I can hear a leaf fall to the ground a block away."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Blessed-Eyes gladly, "You are just the man for whom I have been looking. Surely a man whose hearing is so acute must be a good musician."
"Yes, yes!" said the man impatiently, "I am the finest conductor of an orchestra in the whole world, but that avails me but little in these days. Nobody cares for good music now!" With these words he shrugged his shoulders and was about to pass on.
"Come with me to the King," cried Blessed-Eyes, "I think he has need of you."
After a long talk with the King, and some experiments by which they tested the man's fine sense of hearing, the King felt quite sure that he was exactly the man needed as leader for the great orchestra which he generously supported that the people might learn to love good music, so he was at once put in charge of the same. The new musician proved to be such a wonderful leader that no man in the whole orchestra dared play a false note, and soon their music under this remarkable director, was famed throughout the land, until thousands upon thousands came to hear the afternoon concerts which were given each day in the largest of the beautiful, white marble buildings.
One bright, spring morning Blessed-Eyes started out to enjoy the sunshine and the perfume of the flowers and the glad song of the birds. "Ah," thought he, as he walked along, drinking in great draughts of the fine, fresh air, "no human being can possibly be sad on such a morning as this." But while he was yet speaking, his eyes fell upon the tear-stained face of a woman. As it was impossible for Blessed-Eyes to pass any one who was in trouble, he stopped and said gently, "Dear Madam, is there anything I can do for you?"
"Alas, alas!" said the poor woman, "What can you, or anyone else, do for a broken-hearted mother whose four little children have been taken by death from her arms. Unless I have children to love, life has no brightness for me."
"Surely," said Blessed-Eyes softly and compassionately, "there are yet many children who need your love. Will you not come with me to the palace of the King?"
The woman looked puzzled and perplexed, but so sweet and gentle had been the tone of his voice that she instinctively followed him. I do not know just what happened in the consultation with the King, but this I do know, that only a few days elapsed before the "Court of Honor" rang each day with the voices of happy children as they followed the no longer sad-faced woman around to the concert hall to hear the sweet music, or off to the buildings whose walls were covered with beautiful pictures, or back again to their own handsome building, set apart for their particular use by the King.
Here she told them stories and taught them songs and led them in charming games and plays, and trained their little hands into skillful work until throughout the kingdom there was no happier band of children than those who had once been the waifs of the city, wandering through its streets. So full of motherly love was the woman's work with her new children that other beautiful and noble women came, in time, and joined her in it, until at last there was no child in the whole city who had not learned how to use his hands skillfully, how to love sweet music, how to enjoy beautiful pictures and how to be kind and thoughtful towards others.
In time many of these children grew into manhood and womanhood and became musicians, artists, authors, physicians, clergymen, and wonderfully skilled workmen of all sorts. Many of the women married and became loving and wise mothers because of the training they had received from the pale-faced, childless woman in the King's "Court of Honor."
At last the good King died, and the question arose, "Who shall be our next King." The counsellors of the nation met together to decide the matter. They sent to the stonemasons far away in the back country and the great master-mason cried, "Let Blessed-Eyes be our King! Did he not teach me how to use my strong arms? Has he not furnished bread for us and our families?" And the hundreds of stone-cutters and miners and diggers round about shouted aloud, "Long live King Blessed-Eyes!"
Then they sent to the various villages and towns of the Kingdom and the architects said "Let Blessed-Eyes be King! Has he not created the great Court of Honor from which we have all learned to make beautiful whatever we build!" And the carpenters and joiners and plasterers and painters all cried out, "Long live King Blessed-Eyes!"
Then they sent to the mills and the factories of the great cities and the masterworkmen and designers answered and said, "Why not make Blessed-Eyes our King? It was he who first introduced Art into our land and showed us how to make as beautiful as pictures our carpets and curtains and walls. Have not these things made our merchandise sought for all over the world." Then the spinners and weavers and dyers all shouted aloud, "Long live King Blessed-Eyes!"
Then they sent to all the colleges and schools in the land and the grave presidents and superintendents said, "We know of no better man than Blessed-Eyes. He first taught us that a love of the beautiful should be part of each child's education." Then the youths and the maidens, the boys and the girls, and even the little children shouted until they were hoarse, "Long live King Blessed-Eyes!"
Then the whole nation seemed to cry out, "Blessed-Eyes, Blessed-Eyes, Long live King Blessed-Eyes!" There is none among us whom he has not helped. When the news was brought to Blessed-Eyes that all the people desired him to rule over them, he smiled gently and said, "I had hoped to rest now, but if I can serve my country I must do it." So he was made King and the nation became wise and great and powerful under his reign. For the little children grew up learning to love the beautiful and to see it everywhere until at last there was a whole nation of blessed-eyes, and every city in the land became as beautiful as was the White City by the Lake.
THE LOVING CUP WHICH WAS MADE OF IRON.
Upon the edge of a great forest a woodcutter had built him a cottage, and soon he brought a fair young bride to live in it. She was a neat, trim, little body, who wasted nothing and kept everything in the house in perfect order, so that in a short time their small yard showed her care also.
One day some cousins came from town to see the woodcutter, and his wife. They brought with them their dinner in a large basket, and a jolly time they had of it, wandering through the woods, lying on the soft green grass, and gathering the wild flowers. Finally, hunger drove them back to the woodcutter's house, and as they sat on the porch eating their luncheon, they thoughtlessly threw the skins of their oranges and the banana peelings on the grass in front of them. The woodcutter's wife said nothing, but she felt sure that such litter and dirt on the fresh green grass would grieve the wood-fairies who were trying to keep the forest and all of its surroundings as beautiful as possible. Therefore when the guests had gone, she quietly picked up all the skins and scraps of paper and burned them.
This so pleased the wood-fairies, that when her first boy baby came, they sent him a loving-cup of gold. Around it were circles of diamonds and pearls and deep red rubies. Of course, the young mother was very happy, for she knew that such a gift meant her son would some day possess much money. So she set herself to work to make her yard more beautiful than it had been before, by planting flower-seeds in a border by the fence. "If my son is to become a rich man," said she to herself, "he must learn to love what is beautiful, that he may use his money wisely." She did not stop when she had made her own yard beautiful, but soon began scattering more flower-seed down by the spring that the wood-fairies might have flowers to enjoy while they came to drink. Before long her kind heart led her to plant other flowers by the dusty roadside and down in the lonely valley, in order that weary travelers, as they journeyed along, might see the bright blossoms and smell the sweet perfume.
This pleased the wood-fairies even more than her thoughtful tidiness had done, so, when her second boy baby came, they sent him a loving-cup of pure silver. Around the outside of it were carved pictures of youths and maidens dancing in a circle on the green grass. This gift made the mother even happier than the first had done, for she read in the carving on the cup that her boy would love the open air and would grow up strong and healthy and her heart grew tender to all things about her.
She had noticed that some of the ugliest and most neglected weeds often bore delicate flowers, which, however, soon faded for lack of care. "I will see," said she, "if I cannot make the weeds grow into flowers by watering them and pruning them and lovingly caring for them. In this way I can help to make the whole forest wholesome, and thus show the wood-fairies that I am grateful to them for their gift of health to my second son."
She began by caring for the weeds which stood nearest her own home, and was rewarded by seeing them slowly change into shapely plants and their blossoms become strong and beautiful. Then her care extended to the weeds along the wayside, and in a short time there was not a hurtful weed to be found in the neighborhood. All had been changed, by a little patient care, into strong, thrifty shrubs and plants, each blooming according to its own nature, but all gladdening the sight by their bright flowers and healthy green leaves.
This changing of weeds into flowers so surprised and delighted the wood-fairies who had never heard of such a thing, that when her third boy-baby came, they consulted among themselves and decided to send him the best gift they had to bestow. Accordingly they sent to the new baby a loving-cup made of strong, black iron, and with it, three large earthen jars. One was filled with the sweetest golden nectar ever tasted by mortal lips, another contained a brown vinegar so sour that half a teaspoonful of it would make your face wrinkle, while the third jar held a blackish-looking gall, of such a bitter flavor that one drop of it would make one shrink from ever wanting to taste it again. With this strange present they sent word that if the mother loved her boy, whom by the way she had named Philip, she would mix a cupful of the sweet nectar, the sour vinegar and the bitter gall, using half as much vinegar as she did nectar, and half as much gall as vinegar, and give it to the boy to drink on his birthday, each year, until he was twenty-one years old.
The mother hesitated. It seemed so hard to make her darling child taste of the bitter gall when there was plenty of the sweet nectar to last until he was grown, but she knew that the wood-fairies were wise. Were they not trying to make the whole earth beautiful? Surely they would not require so hard a thing of her unless it was for little Philip's welfare.
Therefore, each succeeding birthday she mixed the fairies' drink and poured it into the iron cup and gave it to the child. Sometimes he cried and sometimes he fretted, but she held the cup firmly to his lips until the last drop was drained, and then she would kiss him and tell him that he was her dear, brave boy, and would some day thank her for making him drink the fairies' potion. He soon found that if he drank the contents of the loving-cup early in the morning, he tasted nothing but the sweet nectar, whereas if he put it off until noon, he could not taste anything but the sour vinegar, and when he delayed the drinking of it until night, it seemed as if the whole contents of the cup had changed to gall, and he would be days and days getting over the bitter taste. So being a sensible boy, he learned to drink it as soon as it was mixed.
Each year he grew more loving and thoughtful of others, more like the wood-fairies in his effort to make the world around him beautiful. Little by little he gained the power which the wood-fairies alone can give—the wonderful power of knowing just what is going on in the hearts of the people about you, even when you do not speak to them or they to you.
If he chanced to meet a sad-faced man or woman on the street, his beautiful eyes seemed to say more tenderly than words could say, "I see you are in trouble and I feel so sorry for you." If he passed a group of merry makers, his smile was so bright that they knew it meant "What a lot of fun you are having! I am so glad!" As he grew older his hands became almost as wonderful as his eyes, or his smile. If he found a little child crying over a broken toy he would stop and mend it, and in a few moments the tears would be gone and the little one would go off laughing or singing, hugging his mended toy.
Sometimes a young girl would come to him with a beautiful picture which she had been embroidering on a screen, but which had been spoiled by some crooked, careless stitches, and he would patiently sit down beside her and would point out to her just where the wrong stitches had been put into the picture, and would help her take them out. Then he would show her how to put in the right kind of stitches and she would go away happy and contented, ready to work day by day on the lovely screen with which she was someday going to make her future home beautiful.
Now and then a young musician would find that his silver flute played only harsh discords instead of sweet melodies and he would grow discouraged and be ready to throw it away, when Philip would come along and pick up the flute quietly and examine it and discover that the jarring sounds came because it was not free from the dust and dirt of the street. Then he would tell the young player what was the matter and would stay with him until he had made the flute as clean as a flute should be, and he was usually rewarded by some fine music from the grateful musician. Occasionally he would come across a man toiling along the road with a pack on his back, so heavy that he was bent nearly double by it. Then Philip would stop him and plan with him how the load could be divided into two packs so that he might carry one under each arm, and thus be able to walk straight and erect and hold his head up as a man should. Nobody ever dreamed of telling him a lie! "He knows just how we feel" people used to say, and somehow the sight of his strong, manly face stirred within them a desire to be brave and noble, and true, and he was beloved by all who knew him.
This indeed was the most precious gift which the wood-fairies could give.
HANS AND THE FOUR BIG GIANTS.
Once upon a time there lived a little boy whose name was Hans. His home was in a village where the tall trees shaded the green grass that grew around the houses. Hans loved his home very much. He loved to hear the birds sing and to watch them fly high in the air, and he often threw crumbs upon the ground for them to eat. He loved the bright red and blue and yellow flowers which grew in the garden behind the house. He delighted in the sweet odors which came all unseen from their very hearts. So he gladly watered them when they looked thirsty. His mother soon taught him how to place strong straight sticks beside the weak vines so that they, too, could climb up and get the sunlight. Hans loved the dear old hens and their downy little chickens that were not afraid to peck the grain out of his hand. In fact, Hans loved everything and everybody about him, from the small naked worms which crawled about among the clods of earth, up to the strange and beautiful stars which shone so high above his head.
He was a very happy, little fellow, always busy, always finding something to do for somebody.
By and by, when he grew to be a tall, strong lad, he used to go with his father to the forest to chop wood and thus help earn money which went to buy food and clothes for his mother and his three younger brothers, for Hans' father was poor and money was scarce in his family.
After a time, when Hans had grown so tall that you and I would call him a young man, his father said to him: "Hans, my boy, it is time now that you started out to hunt some work for yourself. Your next younger brother can help me with the wood chopping and the smaller ones can help the mother in the work about the house. You must go out into the world and learn how to take care of yourself, and perhaps some day you may have to take care of your mother and me when we grow too old to work."
So Hans' mother packed his clothes in a little bundle, and, as she kissed him good-bye, she said: "Hans, my precious son, always be brave and true, and the good God will take care of you." Hans then bade farewell to his father and his younger brothers and started on his journey.
He walked a long way until by and by he came to a great city, where the houses looked dingy with smoke and the rattle of the carts and wagons made an incessant roar. After a time he found some work in the shop of a blacksmith, and although the work was grimy and rather hard to do Hans used to like to see the sparks fly from the red hot iron every time he struck a blow with his heavy hammer. He was very proud when at last he could shape the hard iron into a fine horseshoe almost as well as the smith himself. Hans did not know it, but this very work was making his arms grow big and strong and his chest broad and full.
Every day Hans used to see a beautiful princess drive past the blacksmith's shop. She was the most beautiful princess in the world, and although her blue eyes and golden hair were admired by everyone, she was chiefly beloved because of her sweet smile. Hans used often to say to himself: "How I wish I could serve this lovely young princess." At last one day he went to the palace gate and asked the gatekeeper if there was not some work in the palace which he could do.
"What can you do?" asked the gatekeeper.
"I am willing to do any kind of work which the king may need to have done," answered Hans.
Then the gatekeeper passed him on to the keeper of the king's palace.
"What can you do?" again asked the keeper of the king's palace.
"I am willing to do any kind of work which the king may need to have done," replied Hans.
So the keeper of the palace told the king that there was a strong, tall young man without who wanted to serve him. "Bring him to me," said the king. When Hans came into the presence of the mighty king the monarch looked at him very hard for a few moments and then said: "What can you do, young man?" And again Hans replied: "I am willing to do anything that you may need to have done. I would like to serve the beautiful princess."
"You would, would you?" cried the king. "Now I will test you. In the bottom of the North Sea there lies a string of enchanted pearls. If you will get those pearls and bring them to me you shall serve my daughter, the princess, and in time I may make you governor over one of my provinces; who knows?" And the king laughed to himself.
Hans was wild with delight and, turning, hastened out of the palace. The very next day he started on his journey to the North Sea. He walked and walked a long way until he was very tired. At length, just ahead of him, he saw a big giant rushing along in the strangest fashion.
"Good morning," said Hans, as he caught up with the giant. "What a very large giant you are!"
"Yes," replied the giant, looking down at Hans, "I have need to be both large and strong. Where are you going, young man?"
"I am going," answered Hans, "to the North Sea to try to get a string of enchanted pearls which lies at the bottom of the sea."
"Ah!" said the tall giant, "it will take you a long time to get there. Now if you could walk as fast as I can, it would be an easy matter."
"How fast can you walk?" asked Hans.
"I can walk faster than a greyhound can run," said the giant, "and when I run, the swift river cannot keep pace with me."
"Can you, indeed?" exclaimed Hans. "What a fine fellow you are! I wish you would come along with me. After I find the string of pearls I want to get back to the king's palace as soon as possible, for I am to serve the beautiful princess."
"If that's the case," said the giant, "I think I will go along with you."
The two walked along, chatting together, until they saw what Hans thought must be a huge round stone lying in the road. When, however, they came up to it, he saw that it was another big giant lying asleep by the road side. The hot sun was pouring down upon his face. "Stay here," said Hans, "until I can cut a branch from some tree to shade that poor fellow's face. The sun is so hot it will soon blister him."
At these words the tall giant laughed aloud. "Ho, ho!" he cried, "don't you know who that is? He is a neighbor of mine. He has such strong eyes that he can see a fly on a leaf of a tree a mile away."
The loud laugh of the tall giant awoke the sleeping giant, and he opened his great eyes and stared at Hans. "What are you doing, young man?" growled he.
"Oh, nothing," said Hans. "I was merely sticking these branches into the ground so that they might keep the sun out of your eyes."
"Bah!" cried the great giant, sitting up, "did you not know that my eyes were so strong that I could look the noonday sun straight in the face?"
"Indeed! Indeed!" said Hans. "What a wonderful giant you must be. I wish you would come with me. I may need your strong eyes, for I am on my way to the North Sea to search for an enchanted necklace of pearls which lies at the bottom of the sea."
"Oh ho!" said the giant, "if that's the case I think I will go with you."
So Hans and the two big giants walked on together. They had not gone more than three or four miles when Hans spied another great giant sitting under a tall tree. As they came up to him the wind blew his hat off his head. "I will fetch it for you," cried Hans, as he ran forward after the hat; but before he could get to the spot where the hat lay, the big giant reached out his long arm and himself picked up his hat and put it again on his head. At this all three of the huge giants laughed.
"Didn't you know that he was the giant who could reach 500 yards?" asked the long-legged giant.
"No," exclaimed Hans, clapping his hands with delight. "You are just the giant I need. When I get to the North Sea you can reach down to the bottom of it and pick up the enchanted necklace of pearls. Will you not come and help me?"
The new giant thought for a minute or two and then said: "Oh, yes; I will go along if I can be of any use to you."
So Hans and the three big giants started gayly forward on their journey to the North Sea. They had not gone far before Hans saw in the distance another giant quietly leaning up against a very large rock. He seemed so deep in thought that he did not see Hans and his fellow travelers until they came near to where he stood. Hans noticed that both of this giant's ears were stopped with cotton. "Have you the earache?" asked Hans. "Perhaps I can do something to ease your pain."
"Oh, no," said the giant, "I merely stuffed cotton into my ears to shut off some of the sounds about me. I can hear so well that I can tell what men are saying a hundred miles away from me."
"What a valuable giant you must be!" exclaimed Hans. "Will you not come with me? When I get the enchanted necklace of pearls you can tell me whether it will be safe to take it back to the king's palace."
The giant being very good-natured, said: "You think you will need me, do you? Well, I'll go along."
So Hans and the four big giants walked until they came to the North Sea. Then they got into a boat and rowed out to the deep water. The giant who could see so far soon found the place where the necklace lay on the sand at the bottom of the sea. Then the giant whose arms were so long reached down and picked up the necklace and laid it in the boat. Hans and the giants now rowed back to the shore.
As soon as they had landed, the giant who could hear so well took the cotton out of his right ear and listened to what was being said at the king's palace. He heard the people in the palace talking of a grand festival which was to take place the next night in honor of the birthday of the beautiful princess. He then told Hans of what he had heard, and the giant who could run so fast stooped down and let Hans climb up and seat himself on his great shoulders, and away the two sped, faster than a bird could fly. They reached the palace in time for Hans to give the enchanted necklace of pearls to the king, just as he was about to seat his beautiful daughter upon a throne beside his own.
The king was so pleased to get the necklace that he at once gave Hans the office of serving the beautiful princess. Hans served her so faithfully that she learned to love him dearly, and in time they were married. When the old king died Hans was made king and the beautiful princess was a queen. Hans, you may be sure, took good care of his old father and mother and both he and his queen did everything they could to make all the people in their kingdom industrious and happy.
Hans persuaded his four friends, the giants, to come and live in his kingdom, and through them it became the richest and most prosperous country on the face of the earth, so that travelers came from all over the world to visit it.