NIMBLE JIM AND THE MAGIC MELON
By J. A. Judson.
Once upon a time, in a snug little cottage by a brook under a hill, lived an old widow and her only child. She was a tidy, pleasant-faced dame, was "Old Mother Growser;" and as to her boy, there wasn't a brighter lad of his age in all the village. His real name was James, but he had always been so spry and handy that when he was a little bit of a chap the neighbors called him "Nimble Jim." At work in the cottage garden, or at play on the village green, even at his books and slate, he was ever the same industrious, active "Nimble Jim," and always a comfort to his mother.
His father had been the village cobbler, and when he died the folks said: "Who'll mend our shoes now, and auld Jamie gone?"
Then up sprang the boy, saying: "I'll mend them, now father's dead."
The simple folks laughed at him. "Hoot! toot! lad," said they; "ye canna mend shoes!"
But he answered bravely: "Am I not fifteen[page 35] years old, and e'en a'most a mon? Haven't I all father's tools? Haven't I seen him do it day after day ever since I was a wee boy? It's time I was doing something besides jobbin' and runnin' and pretendin' to work! I may take to th' auld bench, and e'en get my father's place among ye in time, so I be good enough. Mother canna allus be a-spinnin', spinnin', spinnin'. The poor old eyes are growing dim a'ready,"—and Jim gently stroked her thin gray hair.
"Ye're a brave darlin', and my own handy Nimble Jim," said the fond mother, smilingly.
"Ah, well, boy," the neighbors said, "be about it if ye will, for there's no cobbler hereabout now, and the shoes must be mended. But ye'll do the work fairly, mind, or we'll no' pay ye a penny!"
"I'll try my best, and bide your good favor, neighbors," was Jim's cheery answer.
And so he succeeded to his father's old bench by the window, the lap-stone and hammer and awl; and as he waxed his thread and stitched away, singing the old songs, the country folks passing by would listen, look at each other, smile and nod approvingly, or say:
"Hark to that, friend! One might think auld Jamie back again, with the whack o' the hammer and the blithe song, though the voice ben't so crackit like as th' auld one."
"Aye, it's a bit clearer, but no happier. Auld cobbler Jamie was a merry soul," says one.
"And the lad'll prove worthy his father, I warrant. Listen to the turn of that song, now; I've heard Jamie singin' it many a day," says another.
"Whack! whack! thump-pet-ty crack!
In go the shoe-nails with many a smack.
Zu! zu! pull the thread through;
Soon will the shoe be, done, master, for you!
"Nay! nay! there's nothin' to pay,
If it is not mended as good as I say.
I do my work honestly—that is the thing;
Then Jamie the cobbler's as good as the king!"
And the folks passed on, or stopped to leave shoes to mend.
Jim prospered in the old stall, and they called him "Nimble Jim, the Cobbler," for soon he was fairly installed as cobbler to the whole country-side. He was happy, and his old mother was happy, and proud, too, of the success of her boy, who was the light of her home and the joy of her heart.
All day Jim worked away at his bench. Winter evenings he read his few books by the firelight; in the cool of the summer days, or in the early mornings, he busied himself in the little garden. His vegetables were his pride, and for miles around no one had so trim a garden-patch, or so many good things in it, as Nimble Jim.
Only one kind of all his plants failed to come to anything,—his melon-vines,—and these always failed. This began to grieve him sorely, for he was fond of melons; and, besides, he thought if he could only raise fine ones, he might sell them for a deal of money, like gruff, rich old Farmer Hummidge.
"Oh dear! my melons don't grow like other folkses. They don't come up at all, or if they do they wither or spindle away," he said, losing his temper, and tearing up some of the vines by the roots. Then he went into the cottage, angrily, and began to pound away, driving in big hob-nails. With the twilight, his mother called him to the simple meal, but he was sullen and silent.
"What be the matter with ye, my Nimble Jim?" asked the good dame, cheerily.
"Matter enough, mother! My melons wont grow; there's somethin' the matter with them. Faith, I believe some imp has cast a spell over 'em. I do, mother," quoth he, thumping the table with his fist until the dishes rattled.
"Softly, softly, boy! Where's thy good nature gone?" said Mother Growser, staring at him in wonder.
"It be well enough to say 'Softly, softly,'" said he, "and I don't want to grieve ye, mother; but it's naught with me but hammer, stitch, dig,—hammer, stitch, dig,—the day in, the day out, when I might be raisin' fine melons and sellin' 'em for mints of gold in the great city. Yea, mother, sellin' 'em e'en to the king and queen and all the grand lords and ladies at the court, like old Farmer Hummidge."
For almost the first time in his life Jim was unhappy.
"I would you had your wish, Nimble Jim; but then we've a neat bit garden besides the melons; and the home is snug, and you're a good boy and the best o' cobblers. Can't you be happy with that, my lad?"
But Nimble Jim shook his head, for the spirit of discontent had taken possession of him.
Now, for many days, Nimble Jim neglected his cobbling and let the weeds grow in his garden, while he moodily watched his melons as they withered away. Soon he came to idle about them in the evening, too, until, one bright moonlight night, as he was grieving over the wretched, scraggy vines, he heard a tiny, silvery voice quite near him cry, tauntingly:
"Hello, Nimble Jim! How are your melons?"
Jim would have been very angry at such a question could he have seen anybody to be angry with; but, though he looked and looked with all his eyes, not a soul could he see.
THE ELFIN QUEEN
"Hello, Nimble Jim! How are your melons? Ha, ha, ha! Melons! melons! Ha, ha, ha!" [page 36] And the sweet little voice sang, in a merry, mocking strain:
"Nice sweet melons!
Round ripe melons!
Nimble Jim likes them, I know.
Mean sour melons,
Crooked green melons,
Nimble Jim only can grow!
Ha, ha, ha! How are your melons, Nimble Jim?"
"Who are you? What are you? Where are you?" cried Jim, hardly knowing whether to be angry, amused, or frightened.
"You ask a good many questions at once, don't you?" said the silvery voice. "Who am I? What am I? Where am I? Eh! I'm the Queen of the Elfs," said her tiny majesty, "and if you look sharply you'll see where I am."
Just then a moonbeam streaming through the trees overhead fell across his path, and, dancing up and down on it, he saw the tiny elfin queen,—a lovely little creature with long, bright, wavy hair, and glittering garments fluttering in the breeze, wings like a butterfly, a mischievous smile on her face, and in her hand a wee wand tipped with a star. But the brightest thing about her was the twinkle that played hide-and-seek in her eye.
Nimble Jim took off his hat and made a low bow.
"Now, what is all this about?—and why are you neglecting your work, sir?" demanded she, sternly.
Jim trembled beneath her royal gaze, little as she was, and replied humbly:
"May it please your majesty, I wish I'd some melon-seeds that'd grow like magic. I am dead tired of being nothin' but a cobbler. I want to be a melon-merchant, and raise the finest, largest melons ever seen,—supply the whole kingdom with them, and grow to be as rich as the king himself."
"Oh, you do, do you?" she answered, laughing her merry little laugh, and capering up and down the moonbeam. "Oh! quite a modest youth! Well, I'll make a bargain with you; and if you will do something for me, you shall have your wish," said the queen.
Nimble Jim was about to pour out his gratitude, when she interrupted him, saying: "Now, Nimble Jim, listen to me. Your wish is a foolish one, and I warn you that if you gain it you will be sorry. Why will you not be content as you are?"
"Your majesty," replied the obstinate youth. "I cannot be content as I am."
"Well, since you insist on having your own way, we'll make our bargain. Here,"—and, sitting down on the moonbeam, she pulled off a shoe,—"here, sir, I want you to mend my shoe. I tripped just now on a rough place in this moonbeam. Mend the rip; show me you are a good cobbler, and I promise that you shall have your wish."
"But, your majesty," began Nimble Jim, taking the shoe, which was no bigger than a bean, "I can't sew such a little shoe; my fingers are ——"
"There, there! Stop! I'm a queen, and people don't say 'can't' or 'wont' to me, sir," interrupted her majesty, with much dignity. "Take the shoe, and find a way to mend it. I will come for it to-morrow night at this same place and hour," and off she went up the moonbeam, half skipping, half flying, while Jim stood stupidly staring until she had entirely disappeared. Then he began, slowly: "Well,—I—never—in—all—my—life—saw—such—a——"
He said no more, but went in, and sat up all night, thinking how and where he could find needle and thread fine enough to do such a piece of cobbling as this. About dawn a thought struck him. His mother thought he had gone crazy when she saw him chasing bees and pulling down spider-webs. Hours and hours he worked, and though his fingers were big, they were nimble, like his name; so, by and by, with a needle made of a bee's sting and thread drawn from a spider-web, he sewed up the rip in her fairy majesty's dainty shoe.
He hardly could wait for the hour of meeting, but went into the garden, with the shoe in his hand, long before the time. At length, the queen came sliding down the moonbeam, laughing and singing:
"Hello, Nimble Jim! How are your melons?"
But he was not angry now; he only laughed respectfully, made a profound bow, and said:
[page 37]
"May it please your majesty, I have mended your majesty's shoe."
The merry little queen took it from him, looked at it closely, saying to herself: "Humph! I didn't think he could, but he did,"—and, turning to Jim, said, much more graciously than before: "I suppose you think yourself quite a cobbler; and so you are—for a mortal. Since you have done your work so well, I will do as I said. Now," she continued, handing him a little package about as big as a baby's thumb, "plant these melon-seeds, and——"
"Are these little things melon seeds? They look too small," interrupted Jim,—for he had made no ceremony, even in the queen's presence, about peeping into the package,—and it must be confessed that they were very small indeed.
"Certainly they are, or I would not tell you so. They are the magic melons of fairy-land. As I was about to say when you rudely interrupted, plant——"
"I beg your pardon, your majes——"
"Will you keep still? Was there ever such a chatterbox!" said she. "I say, plant these melon-seeds to-morrow at sunrise, and you will have your wish, foolish boy." And, while Jim was thinking of melons and wealth, she skipped away up the moonbeam, singing:
"Nimble Jim is quite demented,—
Wants to be a melon-king!
Silly mortal! not contented
With the riches home-joys bring!
Oh! ho!
Oh! ho!
He will be sorry to-morrow;
To-morrow will bring only sorrow."
But Nimble Jim heeded her not. This night also he could not close his eyes, and in the early morning he hastened to tell his mother their good fortune. She looked grave, and said:
"Ah, my lad! I'd rather you minded the cobbler's bench, nor trafficked with fairies. I fear me they're uncanny folks to deal with."
"Never fear, mother; we'll be rich yet, and I'll make you a queen yourself, and then you need spin no more," said Jim, wild with hope and excitement.
"I don't mind the spinnin', my boy. I'd rather be——".
Jim heard no more, for he dashed off at once to the garden to plant his precious seeds just at sunrise. With furious energy, he tore up all his old[page 38] vines, flung them over the fence, and, after that, spaded up the melon-bed with the greatest care. Then he opened the paper and poured the magical seeds into his hand.
There were only four—four wee seeds, each no bigger than a pin's head! His first impulse was to fling them away in wrath, for he thought such little things couldn't possibly make as big a fortune as he wanted. But then he reflected, "Fairies are little, so I suppose their seeds are little, too. I'll try them, anyhow." And with that he put them in the ground and carefully covered them.
In an instant, the ground burst open in four places, and up shot four sturdy melon-vines, that grew east, west, north, south!
"BEFORE NIMBLE JIM COULD GET BACK TO THE HOUSE, THE YARD WAS FULL OF MELON-VINE."
Grew? No! they raced, they tore, they dashed through the country far and wide! In no time, before Nimble Jim could get back to the house door, the whole yard was full of melon-vine, and one great big melon, bigger than the cottage itself, blocked the door-way.
"Oh! oh! oh!" roared Jim. "What have I done? What shall I do?" And with his spade he cut a hole through the melon. It took him a whole hour, and when he got into the house he found that his poor mother had fainted from fright.
And all the time the vine and melons kept growing—east, west, north, south.
Nimble Jim was frantic!
But the vines didn't mind Jim. On they went, growing like mad, a mile a minute, faster than any railroad train. The big arms filled up the main roads; the smaller ones crammed themselves into the lanes and by-paths, while the tendrils embraced the tall trees, the houses, and the church steeples, and snarled up everything. The leaves grew so large, thick and green that they covered the whole face of the country, shutting out the sun from the fields so the crops couldn't grow; and the whole kingdom became so dark from the awful shade of Nimble Jim's magic melon-vine, that the people had to burn candles day and night.
THE MAGIC MELON OVERRUNS THE COUNTRY.
It grew like mad. On! on! Stem, branch, leaf, tendril, fruit—on, on it went! The melons grew—great, round, smooth, rich, ripe, juicy melons, as big as houses—at the cross-roads, on the roads, in the fields, filling barn-yards and door-yards so people and cattle couldn't pass, or go in or out, till they had eaten their way through the melons, or got ladders and climbed over, or dug trenches and crawled under! On, on it went, surrounding the king's palaces and choking up his forts! Down, down it grew into the brooks and rivers, and out into the king's harbors, where the tendrils seized and wound about his ships of war riding at anchor, and climbed up the masts, while melons grew on the decks till the vessels sank to the bottom! It choked up and drank up all the rivers and lakes in the kingdom, or dammed them up so the waters overflowed the land, drowning people and cattle, and sweeping away houses and barns!
On, on it grew—melons, melons everywhere! Ruin and starvation stared the nation in the face; while poor, poor Nimble Jim, hid within the rind of the melon he had dug out, shivered, cried and bewailed his folly.
"I'll be killed! I'll be killed! The people will murder me!" he shrieked. But no one of them all save his mother knew he had had anything to do with bringing on the dire calamity that had befallen the kingdom.
Then some of the people proposed: "Let us go immediately to our king, and ask him to make a law that the vine shall stop growing ere it ruin us forever."
MAKING AN ENTRANCE FOR THE KING THROUGH THE MELON IN FRONT OF THE PALACE GATE.
But when they had eaten and hewed their way to the palace, they found the king had gone to count his soldiers; and while he was gone the vine came galloping along, and an enormous melon grew and blocked up the palace gate. So they had to help the king and his guards force their way through to the hall of audience.
When they all were in, and the king had wiped[page 39] the melon-juice off his robes and crown, and was fairly seated on his throne, surrounded by his guards and courtiers, the trumpets sounded, drums beat, banners waved, and the people fell on their knees and said:
"O mighty king! We, thy liege subjects, have come to tell thee of the ruin and desolation this fearful vine maketh in all thy great kingdom, and to entreat thy majesty to enact a law forbidding it to grow any more, and commanding it to wither away."
"Alas!" answered the troubled king, "what can I do? No law of mine can stop this awful thing. It is an enchanted vine sent to torment us. Hear me, my people! Proclaim it, ye my heralds! I pledge my kingly word to give up my crown and kingdom, and change places with any one of my subjects who will wither and instantly sweep away this direful vine. I, your king, am as helpless as a child to stop it."
And the king, who was a good old man, shed tears for the misery of his people, and commanded the queen and all the court to dress themselves in mourning and fast night and day.
The people got home as best they could, and each fell to thinking how he could stop the vine and so be king. Even Nimble Jim heard of this. So, every night, he watched, hoping to see the elfin queen. At last she came, as before, on her moonbeam footpath, saying: "Hello, Nimble Jim! How are your melons by this time?"
But he was in no mood to be facetious now. He only said, humbly:
"May it please your majesty, what can I do to stop the growth of this horrible vine, and instantly sweep it from the face of the earth? Help me, I beg your gracious majesty!"—and Jim knelt before her.
"Ha, ha! Nimble Jim don't seem to like melons! I told you you'd be sorry," laughed the little elfin queen. "I suppose you still want to be as rich as the king? Or perhaps you would like to be the king himself?" said she, tauntingly.
"Of course I would, your majesty," said Jim, "if the vine can only be stopped."
"You are a very good cobbler, Nimble Jim," she answered, "and since you mended my shoe so nicely, and as the king has promised to exchange with any one who will wither and destroy the vine, and as you might as well be king as another (and as you need a good lesson," said she to herself), "I give you the means to do it all!"
And the tiny queen pulled off the mended shoe, and cried: "Here, you silly boy! Take this and run to the palace. Once there, you need touch but a tendril with this magic shoe, and the vine will wither and disappear, and the crown and kingdom will be yours. I wish you joy of both. Good-bye! You will learn contentment yet, poor Jim, I hope," she added, as he ran out of hearing, with the precious little shoe in his hand.
Leaving his poor mother behind, for he had forgotten all about her during these days, Jim set off for the palace. It was a long, hard journey, on account of the melon-vines, that not only blocked the road, but even chased him. Many a narrow escape had he from being crushed to death in the embrace of some young tendril that would shoot out, wriggling and writhing toward him like a great green serpent.
At length, he arrived at the palace gate, which in old times was marble, but now was only a hole that had been cut through a melon.
"Halt! Who goes there!" shouted a sentinel, thrusting his spear in front of Jim's panting breast.
"It's only Nimble Jim, the Cobbler. I want to see the king," said the boy.
"Be off, you fellow!" shouted the sentry. "Our noble king don't hob-nob with cobblers! Be off, I say, or——" And he shook his spear at our hero ominously.
"Hold, there!" shouted the king himself, straining out of a window to look between the melon-leaves. "Hold, I say! What do you want, young cobbler?"
"I want your crown and kingdom, sire," boldly answered Jim. "I've heard of the new law, and I'll stop the melon-vine."
"Let him pass, guards," shouted the king; "and send him hither."
A little page dressed in black led Jim to the throne-room. The king and his court no longer blazed in gold and jewels. Black covered everybody and everything, even the golden throne itself, and grief and dismay were on all faces.
Then said the king, in a hollow tone: "What know you of this vine? Speak!"
And Jim, tremblingly, told the whole story.
"Wicked boy!" groaned the king. "You well deserve punishment for the ruin you have brought on the land. But I have passed my royal word, and you shall try to destroy the vine. If you succeed, bad as you are, you then will be the king and I the cobbler. But if you fail, you shall be put where you shall have nothing but melons to eat for the rest of your days. Guards, take him away!"
That night, before the king and queen and all the assembled court, when the moon was fairly risen, Nimble Jim touched with the toe of the magic shoe the end of a tendril that was running rapidly up a tower.
In an instant, every vestige of the vine vanished throughout all the palace grounds; and in the morning the people all over the country shouted[page 40] for joy and cried with one voice: "Let us all go up to the coronation, for to-day we have a new king who has delivered us from the horrible vine."
And on they came, in hordes, till the capital was full and the country about the palace was one vast camp, while throughout the kingdom not a trace of the vine was to be seen.
Then the nobles and prelates prepared for the coronation. It was magnificent. They girt Jim with the sword of state, clothed him in the imperial robes, placed the scepter in his hand, and, as the golden crown descended upon his head, all the people shouted:
"Hail, King Nimblejimble, our deliverer! Long live the king!"
And the silly boy was happy.
Meanwhile, the poor, faithful old king, who cheerfully had given up all for his people, was hammering and stitching and digging away on Jim's cobbler-bench off in the village; and Jim's mother, whom the naughty boy, in his strange elevation, had forgotten all about, tenderly cared for the humbled old monarch.
Before long, the elfin queen saw how patient the old king and Jim's mother were, and how badly Nimble Jim was behaving now he was king, for he was given up to all sorts of wickedness and tyranny, was fast becoming hated by every one, and himself was beginning to see that he was not nearly so happy as he had been while he was a cobbler.
Jim was really good at heart, only his unreasonable discontent with his lot had got him into all[page 41] this misery. At last, he began to repent, and, one moonlight night when he was walking alone on the palace terrace, he said:
"I wish I could see that little elfin queen, and I would ask her to let me go back home again."
"Well, here I am!" said the silvery voice; and, sitting on a moonbeam beside him, there she was. "Tired of being king, Jim?" she asked.
"Yes, your majesty, indeed I am," he replied.
"Want any more melons, Jim?" said she, laughing.
"No, no, no!" groaned Jim. "No more!"
"How is your mother, Jim?" asked her majesty.
"Alas! I don't know,"—and he hung his head in shame.
"Are you ready to go and see her, Jim?" she asked, gently. "And will you be contented now?"
"Yes, yes!" was his eager reply.
Now, the old king had been mending shoes all day, and was at this moment resting in the cottage porch, when, suddenly, he was whisked away on a cloud and landed in his palace again. His crown was popped on his head, and the scepter thrust in his hand, while his old chamberlain tenderly tucked him up in bed.
At the same instant, another cloud brought back Nimble Jim to his bench and his faithful mother, who at once made him some oat-meal porridge without a murmur or word of reproach.
"There!" said the elfin queen to herself. "That boy is cured of his silly notions."
"Mother, I think I don't care much for melons. I wont plant any more," said Jim next morning.
"I don't like 'em myself, lad," said the mother. "I'd a deal rather you'd stick to the bench, like your auld father."
"I will, mother dear," answered Nimble Jim. And he is mending shoes there to this day, as happy as happy can be.
"Oh! I'm my mamma's lady-girl
And I must sit quite still;
It would not do to jump and whirl,
And get my hair all out of curl,
And rumple up my frill.
No, I'm my mamma's lady-girl,
So I must sit quite still."
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