Seven Little People and their Friends

by Horace Elisha Scudder

Now the river ran for hundreds of miles through the forest without passing any house, but then it came to a woodman's hut where dwelt, entirely alone, the woodman and his little daughter Isal. One evening after the sun was down, Isal was playing on the river bank when she saw a limb of a tree floating down the river toward her; as it came near, the current of the stream brought it by the bank, and Isal, reaching out into the water, took hold of a twig and drew to her the very bough which had floated for hundred of miles down the river, with the Old Brown Coat snugly hid among the twigs and leaves. "Here is a coat!" said Isal. "I wonder where it could have come from!" She took it off the bough, which drifted away as she let it go, and held up the coat to look at it. "And what a strange looking coat it is!" she said. "It must be very old; it is very carefully mended too. Some poor person must have owned it; but it doesn't belong to anyone I know. I'll see if it fits me." Now Isal had never heard anything about the Old Brown Coat of the Kingdom of Percan, and of course knew nothing about the story that any one who wore it must rule or die. "It certainly fits me very well," said she, "but I don't think it is very warm; it is soft though, and I will sleep on it to night." She carried it into the house and showed it to her father, who turned it round and round but knew no more about it than she. When night came she laid the coat upon her hard bed so as to make it a little softer, for they were very poor, and soon went to sleep upon it.

Do you recollect that I told you at the beginning of this story that the Phœnix made the Old Brown Coat? Yes, the Phœnix made it, but not the one that was living then; for the Phœnix, you know, lives for five hundred years; there is only one Phœnix at a time, and when the old bird has lived his five hundred years, he builds a bonfire of sweet spices and lies down on it; when he is burned to ashes, out of the cinders rises up a new Phœnix with crimson and golden feathers who also lives five hundred years, and so on. It looks something like an eagle, though to be sure it is a great deal more magnificent than the eagle, and is a very wise bird. I do not know how old the present Phœnix is; persons differ about his age. Now it was a Phœnix—surely the great-great-great-grandfather of the one who was living in the reign of Shahtah, King of Percan, that made the Old Brown Coat; and the descendants of that bird, called generally Phœnix the Tailor, took a great interest in the coat and in all who wore it. The Phœnix who was living at the time of this story, was very much concerned about the stealing of the coat. He was a very old bird; he was four hundred and ninety-five years old when Shahtah was killed, and of course knew a great deal.

"Such a thing has not happened in my memory," said he, gravely, "but the times are growing very degenerate. When I was young there was a great deal more respect shown to the Old Brown Coat. That coat was made by the Tailor, my great-great-great grandfather. I can remember when the whole kingdom would have held their breath if there had happened a rent in the coat. But the times are sadly degenerate. I am sure I don't know what the world will come to after I die."

This he said to the Tufters. The Phœnix of course can have no children, so he generally adopts four birds of some other family and brings them up to wait on him. The four adopted children of the Phœnix were Tufters, that is a kind of goose, but differing from the goose in having a very fine scarlet tuft on the head which sets off the white body very finely; besides the Tufter is very wise. You sometimes hear persons say—as silly as a goose, but never as silly as a Tufter. Still the Tufters are geese after all, and are very fond of cackling. So, when the Phœnix had done speaking, the Tufters looked at one another and burst into a fit of cackling. The Phœnix was very much displeased at this. "How often have I told you," said he, "not to cackle in that way. It is very disrespectful in you. Besides this is no cackling matter." So the Tufters tried to look solemn, which made them look very much like geese. "I don't know exactly what it is best to do about this," proceeded the Phœnix, stroking his beak with one of his claws as he always did when he reflected; "but at any rate we must watch the coat." So the Tufters were sent off to keep watch over the coat, all except the youngest, who remained behind to take care of the aged bird. Her name was Rosedrop, because the tuft on her head was shaped and coloured like a rose.

After a while the Tufters came back very much excited. They forgot to make their obeisance to the Phœnix, when they came in, which irritated the venerable bird very much. "Where are your manners?" said he, sharply, as they were about to speak all at once. The Tufters recollected themselves, and standing in a row before the Phœnix, each upon one leg, they stretched out their long necks and bowed all together till their heads touched the ground, when they rubbed their brilliant tufts in the dirt. They always do this to show their humility. This pleased the Phœnix, and he told them they might speak now if they had anything to tell him, but one at a time. Whereupon, they all forgot their manners again, and cackled together in a most confusing manner, telling him that Kaddel had been killed, the coat had been carried down the river and captured by a woodman's little daughter, named Isal.

"I saw it myself," said the oldest, "and I saw Isal take it from the bough, on which it floated, and put it on."

"Yes," said the second, "and she has gone to sleep on it. She is very beautiful."

"But she will have to die or else rule, which is impossible, though; the law is very strict," said the next.

"Oh!" said the youngest, who had stayed with her father, "and must she die, because she put the coat on?" And Rosedrop looked very sad. She would have cried, but Tufters never cry. The Phœnix was evidently very much perplexed. He shook his head very hard while all the Tufters stood huddled around him.

"We must put this right," said he at last; but he did not say how; no doubt he knew, though, he looked so wise.