THE POOR MAN'S WELL.
Among the Azores, is situated the beautiful Island of Fayal, with its orange-groves and profusion of flowers. But, notwithstanding the fruit and flowers, there is one thing which Americans who live there miss sadly, and that is fresh, cool water. There are no lakes or ponds, such as we have here; and so the people have to use rain-water, which they save in large tanks or cisterns.
There are a few wells on the island, which, as the water rises and falls in them twice in every twenty-four hours, are called "tide-wells." But there was a time, many years ago, when the people had neither cisterns nor wells, and were obliged to get water from hollows in the rocks. And this is the story of the first well.
The year 1699 was a year when scarcely any rain fell. The grain did not grow, the cows and sheep died from thirst, and many of the poor people also. Now there was a very rich man on the island, who had come here to live many years before, from another part of the world.
Though he was so rich, and might have done much good with his money, he was so stingy and so hard, that the people did not love him at all. But his bags of silver and gold did not buy him water; and at last the thought came to him, "Why! I will dig a well, as people used to do in my country. I will dig it on my own land, and no one shall have a drop of the water but myself."
So he hired men to come and dig the well; but he paid them only a little money, and was very unkind to them. They dug and they dug; but no water came. At last they said they would work no longer unless their master would promise them some of the water, and he promised them the use of the well for half of every day.
Now they dug with more patience; and one morning, as early as six o'clock, they suddenly found water. They claimed the privilege of using the well for the first six hours; and the master dared not refuse. As they were drawing the water, they noticed that it began to grow lower and lower in the well; and at twelve o'clock, the master's hour, none was left.
He was very, very angry, and said he would never give the men any work again. However, at six o'clock that night, they again demanded the use of the well. He mockingly asked them if they expected the water would come for them, and not for him. Nevertheless they went to the well; and, to the master's awe and wonder, it was full of water.
At midnight, the master again tried to get water from the well, and, as before, found it empty. He now felt afraid, believing that some divine power controlled the action of the water. He went to the church and vowed, before God, that if the water should come again next morning, he would dedicate it to the poor forever.
In the morning, when the men visited the well, there was the fresh water awaiting them. The master kept his vow, and thus the well became "The Poor Man's Well." To this day the water rises and falls in it twice in every twenty-four hours. I give you here a picture of the well, and should you ever go to Fayal you may see the original.
K. H. S.
Can you guess what she was? She was a little black kitten; and I must tell you all about her, and why we gave her such a funny name. Teddikins had a great mouse-colored cat called Maltie, and she had three little kitties,—Spitfire, Miss Tittens, and Cuddle. Spitfire was all black, just as black as a lump of coal, while Miss Tittens was gray, and Cuddle was gray and white.
The first time Teddikins and I looked into the box where Maltie and her kitties were, they were very, very little, and their eyes were not open. The black kitty was lying on top of the others; and Teddikins put in his little fat hand and picked her up. What do you suppose she did? She said, "Sptss!" and she kept on saying, "Sptss" until Teddikins put her down again; and so we called her Spitfire.
Just as soon as she could see out of her funny little gray eyes, she began to try to get out of the box. She wanted to see what there was outside, where Maltie went. She would climb up a little way, and then tumble back on Miss Tittens and Cuddle, which would make them say, "Mew," and make Teddikins laugh; but Spitfire always said, "Sptss!" and would try again.
At last, one day we heard a thump; and we looked around, and there was Spitfire on the floor. She had climbed to the top of the box, and tumbled over the edge, and there she stood, with her tail straight in the air, and her legs wide apart, looking at us, and saying, "Sptss!"
Maltie was very proud of her kitties, and used to take Cuddle and Miss Tittens in her mouth, and carry them into the dining-room when we were eating our breakfast, to show them to us. But Spitfire would not let her mamma carry her. She would walk in all alone, tumbling over on her little nose very often (for her legs were not yet strong), but carrying her little black tail just as straight as little boys carry sticks when they call them guns.
One morning, Teddikins put a saucer of milk on the floor and what do you suppose that little Spitfire did? Why, she looked at it very hard, and then she said, "Sptss," and walked right into the milk, and out the other side of the saucer, with Tittens and Cuddle after her. The floor was covered with the funny white prints of their little paws.
One day a mouse ran across the kitchen; and Cuddle and Tittens were very much frightened; but Spitfire humped up her back, and made her tail very big, and said "Sptss!" very hard, and then cantered off sideways staring at the mouse, and saying, "Sptss!" all the time.
You know how kitties like to go to sleep, all cuddled up together. But Spitfire would not lie down with the others: she always tried to get on top of them.
When the little kitties were quite strong, they used to play a funny sort of game. There was a round foot-stool, covered with carpet, and Spitfire used to sit up on it, and then Cuddle and Miss Tittens would try to climb up the sides. Then Spitfire would say, "Sptss!" and pat them on the heads with her little paws until they rolled down again. Sometimes, when she was busy driving one off, another would get up behind her, and drive her off too; but she always worked hard until she was up again.
Do you not think she was a funny kitty? She always went first, and took the lead, and used to box the ears of Cuddle and Tittens when they did not mind her. Now she is a big black cat, with a red collar around her neck, and she catches rats and mice, and is very good and useful. She only says, "Sptss!" when strange cats come into her yard; but we still call her Spitfire.
E. F.
