Chapter II: Part 2

Each brother, addressing him sternly as Nemesis,

(Who, the Greeks say, less just and more cruel than Themis is,)
Said, "Now then, young Lazybones! Clear off the premises!''

He asked for some bread and some straw for a bed,

And he'd work like a slave for his brothers, he said.

But they both answered, "No ! you'd much better go :

We shall have to assist you along if you're slow!"

So, half broken-hearted, the poor lad departed,

And thus in the world for himself he was started.

'T was a poorish look out,

Of that there's no doubt ;

He'd not an idea what he'd best set about.

So, much to be pitied,

The old mill he quitted.

The door gave a slam--

Not _one_ pang was spared for him--

He sat by the dam,

And that nobody cared for him
He could not help feeling--and what was prepared for him !

Thus he sat, while big tear-drops his eyes were suffusing,
Nor speaking a word,

Till he suddenly heard,

As he was a-musing, his cat, too, a mew sing.

"Ah, Puss," he said, "you
Are unfortunate too ;

I'm inclined to think yours the more serious disaster
In having a penniless wretch for a master."

Puss, thus addressed, his master caressed,

And then in plain language his feelings expressed.

"Dear master," said he, "just leave it to me ;

You shall see, then, I promise, what then you shall see.

I 'll at once undertake
Your fortune to make,

And assist you to wreak your revenge on those brutes ;

And all that I want is a new pair of boots !"

The notion was funny :

He hadn't much money,

But as nothing more hopeful appeared to be done, he
Went off to a cobbler, who lived in a stall,

And ordered the boots to be made--rather small.

New boots, too ! Not shabby, old, worn-out, and holey 'uns,
But a spick-and-span pair of resplendent Napoleons.

The boots arrived, the bill was paid,

And Pussy an excursion made.

Some snares he prepares,

To take dozens of hares,

And a wire that will grab its
Quantum of rabbits ;

Without burning cartridges,

Catches some partridges
And several pheasants ;

And bears them as presents
To the court of the King--I can't tell you his name,

But history reports he was partial to game.

Day after day the cat brought his prey
In numbers sufficient to load a big dray,

Or the cart which they call in the Crimea an arabah ;

And each single thing
He brought to the King
"With the loyal respects of the Marquis of Carabas."

Said the monarch one day, "Come, tell me, I pray,
Whereabouts is the Marquis's property, eh ?

The cat, as requested, the quarter suggested

Where the lands lay whose fee in the Marquis was vested.

Said the monarch, "Hooray !

I'll drive over that way :

Tell the Master of Horse just to bring round the chay."

In a moment at that off went the cat
At what modern slang styles "a terrible bat,"

Faster and faster, till, reaching his master,

He cried, "Of your clothes be at once off a caster,

And jump in the river that runs by the path ! "

"In the river--" "Don't talk, sir, but pray go to bath ! "

On the bank Pussy stayed, while his master obeyed ;

But the Royal procession so long was delayed
That he felt very cold in the stream, I'm afraid.

At last, "Here they come !" cried Pussy : "now, mum
Is the word !" Said his master, "With cold I am numb,
But, while my teeth chatter so, cannot be dumb."

Said the cat, "My young friend, to this warning attend ;

If you do, it will all turn out well in the end.

You've good fortune at hand, and the path's very quick to it,
So keep a look-out,

Mind what you 're about,

And whatever I say, say you likewise--and stick to it ! "

Then crafty Puss goes
And hides all the clothes
With grass and dead leaves ; and when he perceives
The royal coach nearing him, loudly calls "Thieves ! "

His cries the whole neighbourhood round might awaken--

"The Marquis of Carabas' clothes have been taken ! "

Said the King, "Deary me !

What is it I see ?

My good friend the cat up a tropical tree ? "

Ah," said Puss, "my dear master has had a disaster,

For some one has cut--" "Cut! Oh, here's some court plaster."

"No, sire," said the cat,
"He doesn't want that.

He needs no court plaster, but needs a court suit ;

For while he was bathing some mannerless brute,

Who had chosen the reeds and the rushes to lurk in,
Cut away with his hosen, knee-breeches, and jerkin."

"Is that all ?" said the King ;

"My servants shall bring
Whatever is needful--cloak, stockings, cap, sword, robe,
Gloves, collar, and doublet--in short, a whole wardrobe,
Each thing that he wants,

From castor to pants."

[Of course, you 're aware when a king takes the air
He's provided with changes of clothing to spare--

At least, so this legend would seem to declare.]

The servants produce for the Marquis's use
A rich velvet suit with gold trimmings profuse,

A rich velvet mantle with a lining of satin,

A diamond brooch stuck a point-lace cravat in,

While another the ostrich plume fastened the hat in.
These elegant clothes
Were _couleur de rose_,

With trimmings of green and with apple-green hose,
With _noeuds of ruban_, to encase his stout _mollets_
(For further particulars, please see _Le Follet_).

Our hero, attired in the garb thus acquired,

By the King's lovely daughter was greatly admired,

Who sat (as before I intended to state) on
The right of her pa in the royal "phe-ayton."

But I'm bound to confess
Our hero no less
Was charmed by her grace and her beauty in turn--
For if she liked _his_ looks, he was ravished with "_hern_

Said the King, "My dear Marquis, it's really a treat
Thus to fall in with one I 've been dying to meet.

Pray take a seat,

And let me repeat
How much I'm obliged for your numerous presents
Of partridges, rabbits, grouse, woodcocks, and pheasants.

We 're going for a drive--pray enter the carriage.

Here's my daughter--she's yours, if you wish it, in marriage.
Any news ? None, I fear :

Bread's still getting dear,

But the weather is fine for the time of the year.

I suppose we are passing here through your estate ? "

So the King rattled on,

But the old miller's son,

Unable to answer, sat scratching his pate,

But Pussy cut in with, "Yes ! though he's in doubt of it ;
And for why ? Dash my wig !

Because it's so big
He never can tell if he's in it or out of it.

But your Majesty, p'rhaps,

Will order your chaps
To drive to the castle, which certainly caps
Any castles you'll meet in a long summer day;

And, if you 'll allow me, I'll show them the way."

To Pussy's request the King promptly accedes,

Bids his coachman to follow wherever he leads,

And away the cat sped
A long way ahead
On a road that was bordered by corn-land and meads.

Pussy well knew

That the land they passed through
Belonged to a wizard--a mighty one, too----

Who, besides with the Evil One being "colloguer,"

(Don't think I, in quoting from "Arrah na Pogue," err :

It's what Shaun the Post says to Feeney,--the rogue--urgh !) *
Was that Middle Aged cannibal known as an ogre.

But where'er in the fields, as on they kept going,

They came upon labourers reaping or mowing,

Or ploughing or harrowing, weeding or sowing--

The cat ran before,

And cried out, "Give o'er ! ,

Your master commands!" and the workmen forebore.

Said Puss, "He 'll approach
In a splendid state-coach,

And has sent me before him these tidings to broach,

And to bid you, unless you wish demons to tease you,
If the King, his companion, inquires who employs you,
With one voice in a moment, men, women, and boys, you
Must haste to declare,

With a satisfied air,

' The Marquis of Carabas, sire, an it please you ! '

See ! The carriage draws near !

Come, haste ! Do you hear ?

Quit all occupations,

And haste to your stations,

And give him the lowest of low salutations ! "

The poor people, afraid,

His orders obeyed.--

The Marquis himself became rather dismayed,

* This expletive, used to express utter loathing,
I scarcely can spell--

One really can't tell
How to put sounds in etymological clothing.

Thinking what was to end all these funny proceedings
Into which he was following Pussy's queer leadings ;

But he felt he was sinned against rather than sinning
For Pussy strange fun
With the clothes had begun,

But what would the close be of such a beginning?

Still on Pussy speeds
By pastures and meads,

And the coachman still follows wherever he leads.

"Your estates are enormous--

Pray, Marquis, inform us,

If I may inquire,

Did they come from your sire ?

He must really have been a most terrible lord,
Acquiring so much by the right of the sword.

I'm pleased to perceive,

With such riches to leave,

He'd a son of such merit
The wealth to inherit
Of so mighty a conqueror and enemy-killer."

"Yes," said the youth,

"To tell you the truth,

My late father had quite a renown as a miller."

The Princess smiled sweetly,

As if to hint neatly, '

Though she counted the father
A conqueror rather,

She fancied the son
Had a victory won--

In fact, she was sure--as the smile would infer--

About one of his conquests, and that was of her !

For she felt he was lord of her bosom completely.

And now the fields and meads they leave ;

To right and left huge mountains rise,

And seem--so much their heights deceive--

With lofty crests to touch the skies.

Pine forests clothe their sombre sides,

Where dark ravines and gorges frown,

And many a mountain torrent glides,

Or bounds from ledge to ledge adown.

Their mighty wings the eagles flap
High up among the summits lone,

Whose peaks the snows eternal cap,

Or where the glacier billows groan.

But in the plain about the base
Of this portentous mountain chain,

The signs of human toil they trace,

And find men labouring again.

Here, turned by some wild torrent's force,

Huge wheels revolve with busy hum ;

There some vast chasm stops their course,

Whose depths the eye would vainly plumb ;

Or, laden deep on shrieking wheels,

Toil waggons up the steep inclines :

Their load the mystery reveals,--

This region is a place of mines !

As soon as Puss got to this desolate spot,

Addressing the miners, he kept up the plot.

"See your master approach
In the King's grand state-coach ;

He has sent me before him, his orders to broach.

"' Then haste ts your stations

And make him the lowest of low salutations' "

If you don't wish the gnomes and the kobolds to seize you,
When asked whom you obey,

Be certain to say,

'The Marquis of Carabas, sire, an it please you !'

When His Majesty's Grace
Appears on the place,

You must bow till each one touches earth with his face!"

To every word

That from Pussy they heard
The miners attended--

Low bowed and low bended ;

And when the King came,

And asked them the name
Of their master, they answered him all just the same.
And I'd just hint to you

That as thus this whole crew
Of miners obeyed--minors always should do.

But now having passed through this wild tract at last,
They came to a plain greenly wooded and vast,

And spied out, half hid
A thick forest amid,

A castle that stood on the crest of a hill,

Or the brow of a rock--you may choose which you will ;
For the hill was so steep
The road had to creep
Round and round from the baser
To the gates of the place,

Though Pussy went straight up the side at full chase,
While slowly around
The royal coach wound,

The horses got pretty well tired, I 'll be bound,

For such roads will e'en puzzle a nag that is sound.

Half-way to the top Puss in Boots made a stop
Not because he was tired and quite ready to drop,

But because he encountered a dame and her goodman
And child--by profession the man was a woodman--

And wished to inquire
Ere he went any higher
If this past all doubt was the castle and dwelling
Of the wizard of whom I have elsewhere been telling.

So, making a bow, he said, "Pray allow
Me to ask you one question that struck me just now--
That castle that rises
To dazzle our eyes is
The abode, I suppose, of a man of position :

"The palace," said they, "of a mighty magician,

So harsh and severe he's regarded with fear
By all the poor people who dwell about here ;

The best course, if you asked us, that we'd recommend to you,
Is not to go near him--he may put an end to you."

Said Puss, "Never fear, for I'll persevere

Till the neighbourhood I of this wicked one clear."

So he went on once more, till reaching the door
Of the castle, he gave with the knocker a score
Of such rat-tat-tat-tats, to the blush as would put man-
-Y thundering knocks by a real London footman.

The door was flung wide, and Puss stept inside,

But not an attendant there was to be spied--

Nought but a hand
Bearing a wand,

That pointed the way with a courtesy bland,

By corridors gorgeous, up staircases grand,

Through halls by arched ceilings, all painted, o'erspanned,
Along galleries brilliant with lovely stained windows,

Whose curtains were made
Of that Indian brocade
Which Great Britain, 't is said, to the conquest of Scinde owes ;

Though the wizard of course got his curtains by witchcraft,
Not by merchant-ships, P. and O. steamers, or _sich_ craft.

At length doth Puss enter
A hall in whose centre
The Ogre he spies, _cui Cyclopius venter_.

(Which, translated, would mean "as a matter of taste,

His figure and form ran a good deal to waist.")

He has taken his seat,

Preparing to eat
An enormous repast of all manner of meat--

Beef, mutton, and veal, each in separate bowl--

And the different beasts are served up to him whole ;

And there's one dish, moreover,

That Puss can discover,

That strikes him with horror and harrows his soul--

Babes of quite slender years (that means tender, not thin, age)
Piled up on a dish (and no gammon), and spinach.*

Puss, nothing daunted
(Although 't will be granted
The sight in some hearts might have terror implanted),
Walked straight to the board
Where the monster abhorred
At the servants attending him bellowed and roared ;

And servants sure ne'er on their master attended
With such an unwilling respect as those men did !

"Rascals of mine !

Bring me some wine,

Or I 'll cut you in sunder from head-piece to chine ! "

* In thus making spinach
'To rhyme as with Greenwich
I 'm authorised wholly
By Anthony Rowley,

Whose edito princeps (of course it's a foli-
-O) spells the word s.p.i.n.n.a.g.e --

And if any should know how to spell it, 't would be he.

Alarmed at the speaker,

One brought a big beaker
Of wine--one-tenth part had floored any one weaker.

But the Ogre held up the great glass to his eye
In a critical way,

Smacked his lips, just to say
"That 'll do !" and then all at one gulp drained it dry,
And set down the goblet. [I cannot see why
It is called so, and count as a regular puzzle it ;

For since it's to drink,

Not to eat from, you'd think
They'd, instead of a "gobble-it," call it a "guzzle-it."]

Drawing near the huge chair with a reverent air,

With knee lowly bent, hand on heart, and head bare,

"Quite delighted, I'm sure," so Puss courteously spake,

"The acquaintance of one so distinguished to make,

For skill that's gigantic in arts necromantic,

Whose fame--not to speak it in terms sycophantic--

Is driving with envy all wizards quite frantic,

European, or Asian, or e'en Transatlantic!"

Here Puss bowed again with a courtier-like antic.

Even wizards, I fear, or so 't would appear,

Cannot always, unmoved, artful flattery hear.

The Ogre said, "Ugh !

Pray who are you ?

In return for these compliments what can I do ?

For since I'm not vain, it seems pretty plain

You would not tell me this without some hope of gain."

Says Pussy, "Quite right--you 're very polite--

Of your magical powers I'd fain have a sight.

There's one now report says is yours, the which borders
On what is impossible." "Pray give your orders,

And I 'll open your eyes with a little surprise,

And prove that report does not always tell lies."

"Well, since you're so kind--what a wonderful dodge I call
Is the power of assuming all shapes zoological--

Ape, bear, lion, elephant, wolf, hippopotamus
(The latter a beast
Scarcely known in the least
Till the Pacha of Egypt obliging got 'em us),

Tiger, peccary, leopard, gnu, paradoxurus ;

Or e'en if you wish
A bird or a fish--

The penguin, for instance, or Buckland's silurus."

Said the Ogre, "He ! he !

You quickly shall see--

That's only child's-play to a wizard like me ! "

So without more ado, hands and knees on he sunk,

His ears turned to flaps, and his nose to a trunk,

And his form all at once took so quickly to swelling,

He threatened to knock off the roof of his dwelling.

"Bravo !" cried the cat ; "that's capital, that !

You 're almost as big as the Heidelberg vat !

But can you now, please, with just as much ease
Into smaller dimensions at once yourself squeeze ?

Say, turn from the elephant, big as the house,

_Sans_ any embarrassment, into a mouse ? "

Bulk, big legs, and trunk
Immediately shrunk !

In three seconds--no more--

Was a mouse on the floor
Where the elephant stood but an instant before.

At one bound, quick as thought,

That mouse Pussy caught,

And before any aid from his charms could be sought,

Or help could be had from the spirits who followed him,
Had given the magician one grip--and then swallowed him !

Then back to the door
Puss hastened once more,

Just in time to receive the state carriage and four.

He helped to descend
His master and friend,

Who was still in bewilderment how it would end,

And proceeded to bring
The Princess and the King
Through all the grand rooms,

Where pages and grooms--

Who were glad with the Marquis their old situations
To hold in the castle--made low salutations.

To cut my tale short,

They returned to the court,

And, since nobody wished their attachment to thwart,

The young folks were married,

And he his bride carried
To his castle, where happily ever they tarried ;

And the cat was provided--

The King so decided-- '

With a cushion of silk
And a gallon of milk
Every day of his life till the day that he died-ed.

I 've only to add
The fortunate lad
Sent and fetched his two brothers so cruel and bad,

And recalling the past
To their memory, at' last
Told his present good fortune, which made them aghast ;
And then, bidding them better in future behave them,
To be nobly revenged on them both--he forgave them!

CINDERELLA

THERE once was a Baron who dwelt at the top
Of a rock by the Rhine,

Whence, whene'er he'd incline,

Upon travellers that way he was ready to drop,

And lighten their purses--

Which brought many curses
On the head of the Baron of Snitherumpopp
For a practice, which now
We shouldn't allow,

And, in fact, the police would immediately stop.

Hard by where the Bar(i)on *

These strange tricks did carry on
There lived a young Prince, who by flourish of clarion
Proclaimed unto all, both great folks and small,

He intended to give a great banquet and ball--

Or, to use modern language, a spread and a hop :--

'T was good news for the daughters of Snitherumpopp.

For the Baron, you see, had daughters three,

The two eldest as ugly as ugly can be,

And prouder than Lucifer--(no ! I must scratch
_That_ through. For they'd waited so long for a catch,

It's not true that their pride was above any match)--

But the youngest was fair, with beautiful hair ;

Her sisters looked on her with rage and despair ;

And that _they_'d have no chance they declared past a doubt,
If that "forward young minx" was allowed to "come out."

* At this new mode of spelling the word don't feel shy--
I have seen a Baron with more than one eye !

So for fear of her beauty their lovers bewitching,

They compelled her to stop
In that wretched cook's-shop
Which is--by its own denizens--christened the "kitching."
In clothes very mean they compelled her to clean
Pots, kettles, and pans--_implements de cuisine_.

In her pa's worn-out gloves
She polished the stoves,

Poker, shovel, and tongs, and whatever belongs

To the _role_ of what Stubbs * calls "_say po-vers onfongs_,"

The General Servants--or Maids-of-All-Work,

Though this last is a name they seem anxious to shirk,

Or at least as a rule in advertisements burke.

Though far from robust, she'd to sweep and to dust,

And to see dinner cooked, when skewered rightly or trussed,
(Though dining herself off a scrap and a crust,

While if aught turned out wrong by her pa she was cussed)
Not to mention, _en passant_, the fact that she must
Chairs and tables adjust ; and, from last unto fust,

See that all things were clean from dirt, mildew, or rust.
(For this last she used paper, which is, unless memory
Deserts this poor brain altogether, called Emery.)

[N.B. Any doubt on the point to enlighten,

I don't mean the actor, although he's a bright 'un.]

When the ball was announced, off the two sisters bounced
To send their best dresses to have them re-flounced,

And soon became clawers from various drawers
Of fans, flowers, gloves (by the shopman styled "strawers"),
Trimmings, ribbons, and laces, to add to the graces
Of their very poor forms and their very poor faces.

* Of scenes continental Poor Stubbs has been viewer
But once, though he speaks of his trip as "mong two-er."

I must own that they were (since plain speaking _de rigueur _'s)
What tradesmen denominate "marked in plain figures ! "

One routs out a scarf, one contrives to unearth a
Compound of _tulle_
And ribbons which you 'll
Hear described by your sister or wife as a Bertha.

The eldest's inclined to declare for a tarlatane,

Either an emerald green or a scarlet 'un,

With a silk under-petticoat known as a slip ;

While the second decides double skirts are "the tip."

(What "the tip" means you know, though one can't see the point of it.
I'd not use the slang, save that rhyme makes a joint of it.)

At last draws near the festal day !

The ball's to last three nights, they say.

What a hustle and bustle--oh, dear ! what a fuss 'll
Be made when the ball-dresses whisper and rustle,

I 'll warrant that scuffle
And noise quite enough 'll
Be made when along the oak floors their feet shuffle,

While the band are all playing as hard as they 're able
The popular waltz of the season--the "Mabel."

While her unprepossessing
Two sisters are dressing,

Cinderella to do all the work, I'm afraid, is made,

Not only of general servant, but lady's maid.

She lays out the robes by which each so much store sets,

Takes things down to air, -

Cleans their shoes, curls their hair,

Pins their sleeves, hooks their dresses, and laces their corsets.

And now they're both drest,--each, looking her best,

Is prepared to become at the Prince's a guest.

They 're gone ! And yet neither her thanks has conveyed
To poor Cinderella for lending her aid ;

They 've not wished her good-night--they have not even kist her,
Though for once they 've allowed her to act as assister.

She could not but feel it, her heart being tender,

So she sat down and had a good cry on the fender ;

When--as good Mrs. Brown,

Of world-wide renown,

Whose figures of speech may, without any bosh,

Be described as "the things that _come home_ from the wash,"
Says--"All of a suddin "

The room was a flood in
Of light ! Cinderella, surprised, said, "Oh, Jim'ni !

The soot must have caught and set fire to the chimney !

But no ! t' was not so !

The beautiful glow
Was not due to an accident--quite the contrairy--

Altogether another affair,--and a fairy !

Cinderella had got what now-a-day not
Very often has fallen to any one's lot,

As I fancy you can't but instantly grant
When you learn it's a fairy by way of an aunt.

This benevolent fay has called in, in this way
To hear what her favourite niece has to say,

And to send her, if any desire she evinces
To share in the fun, to the ball at the Prince's.

When she said, "Will you go?" she didn't say, "No!"

But answered, "Just shouldn't I, aunt !" adding, "Oh !

How I wish I'd a ball-dress--one fit for a belle--a
White muslin with tucks !" "So you shall, Cinderella.

But first we must get you an equipage proper.

You'll find some black-beetles down there by the copper;
There's a rat in the trap, and some mice, too, mayhap,

And there's also a lizard, a little green chap,

On the grass-plot before the scullery door.

Bring them here, there's a dear. Stay, I want one thing more--

A pumpkin ! And yonder I see, if my eyes
Don't deceive me, a pumpkin exactly the size ! "

Cinderella soon sought the things out, and brought
To her aunt, who, by magic as rapid as thought,

Turned the beetles to pages, and made of the rat
A coachman, all powder, bouquet, and laced hat.

As for the mice, they became in a trice
Eight cream-coloured galloways, worth any price ;

And the lizard--she made that most active of friskers
A footman !--with livery, calves, and big whiskers.

"And now, dear," said she,

"For a coach we must see !

Now pumpkins--some fry 'em, some boil 'em, some stew 'em,
But no one before ever made one a brougham." *

At once--although strange you may fancy the change,

And think I am drawing a bow at long range-

The pumpkin (of that as cock-sure as a bantam I'm)
Turned to a coach like a trick in a pantomime.

Then the worthy old fay touched her niece's array--

Rags and tatters all vanished at once quite away,

And, lo ! in their lieu, she appeared to the view
In a ball-dress of fashion the newest of new !

She'd such lovely jewels-

The thought of them cruel's !-

Not at Hancock's, or Ryder's, or H. Emmanuel's,

Or the shops of some forty more-

(Say Storr and Mortimore,

Hunt and Roskell, or any besides of the many
Where on things of the sort you may spend a nice penny)-

* No ! But at the Adelphi some folks "I 've heard tell on"
Are often quite carried away by a Mellon.

Could you ever procure such pearls, diamonds, and top az :

I very much doubt if their equal the Pope has ;

Though there are (so I've read in a newspaper par.) a
Good many gems in the papal tiara !

But what sort of shoes had the sweet Cinderella-

Polished leather, white satin, French kid, or prunella?

No ! not one of those hid her dear little toes.

She wore--can't you guess ?--now what _do_ you suppose ?--
She wore--come, you know what she had _pour ses souliers?_--
She wore--as A. Ward would remark, 't was "pekoolier"--
She wore, to be brief, then, a pair of glass slippers,

And what vulgar rapture calls "regular clippers ! "

"And now," said her aunt, "your sisters may flaunt,

And fancy they 'll catch the young Prince--but they shan't !
There's one thing, however, I'm anxious to mention-

And I beg you will give to my words your attention :

If you stop at the ball till the hours that are small,

Your jewels and finery'll vanish--that's all!

So when twelve's drawing near be careful, my dear,

And to get away safely take five minutes clear.

Yes ; at five minutes to, pray take your adieu,

Or something may happen you 'll long have to rue !"
Cinderella, quite charmed with her gorgeous array,

Scarce had patience to hear what her aunt had to say,

But the moment she seemed to be making an end to it,
Kissed her, and promised she'd strictly attend to it !

Cinderella steps into her carriage and eight,

Tantara-tantara-ta !

With coachman, and footmen, and pages of state,

She is driven away to the Prince's grand gate.

Tantara-tantara-ta !

Oh, didn't they think she was somebody great !

Tantara-tantara-ta !

The Prince's Lord Chamberlain rushed to the door,

Tantara-tantara-ta !

And bowed very low that fair lady before,

While retainers and guards crowded round by the score,

Tantara-tantara-ta !

And even the solemn old porter said, "Lor ! "

Tantara-tantara-ta !

The Prince, when he heard all the hubbub and din,

Tantara-tantara-ta !

Came down the grand staircase, and held out his fin
To the fair Cinderella, and welcomed her in,

Tantara-tantara-ta !

And a very sweet smile was so blest as to win.

Tantara-tantara-ta !

He leads her to the ball-room. As they enter,

At once all eyes on Cinderella centre.

Each noble of the land, well-born or grand,

Desires the honour of her tiny hand.

The women all are on the hooks styled tenter
To learn who she can be,

Though "really they can't see"-

Like female jealousy there's no fermenter

For turning -tempers naturally placid
Into a bitterly corrosive acid-

"What all the men could find in her to praise-

They'd ne'er met one more plain in all their days.
Her clothes were fine,

And did with jewels shine,

But then, you know, they'd probably been lent her."

What need to enlarge ?--It appears woman's duty
To differ from us upon questions of beauty.

The men were enchanted. The ladies said, "Well, a
More brazen-faced thing-- !" meaning poor Cinderella.

(The dissension of belles,

As experience tells,

Is one of the oldest of _horrida bella._)

The Prince claimed her hand for the very next dance ;
Cinderella consented, but gave him a glance
That set his heart dancing with passion and pleasure
Much faster by far than his feet danced the measure.

"Now 's your chance,

Miss, to dance.

Hark ! they play the 'Mabel.'

Who'd be false
To such a waltz,

If to spin he's able?

"Faster they
Ought to play-

Can't they do it quicker ?

No, that ass
The double-bass,

He's far gone in liquor.

"O'er the floor
One round more

Will not tire, I trust, you."

"Only one-

And now it's done

I'll sit down." "Oh, must you:"

For dance after dance his delight to enhance

The Prince asks her hand ; no one else has a chance !

While young ladies and old, "left out in the cold,"

Shake their heads at such doings, and say that it's "bold !

But the Prince doesn't care for any one there
But his own darling partner, so gentle and fair
(Which is more than his conduct is--so they declare).

At last Cinderella looked up at the clock,

One minute to twelve ! What a terrible shock !

In two seconds more she is out at- the door,-

She has no time to wait, but runs to the gate-

It's well no one sees her, because she's too late :

The clock has struck twelve. The enchantment is o'er

The guards who were stationed each side of the portal,
When questioned, said they
Had seen none pass that way
Except--yes ! one scullery-maid, a poor mortal,

All rag, patch, and tatter, but didn't look at her.

The porter declared he knew nought of the matter ;

At the door as he sat he'd seen nothing thereat
But a pumpkin, a lizard, some mice, and a rat.

The Prince, who'd rushed out to look after his partner
And hand her downstairs
To her carriage, declares
He can't make it out--"It is quite a disheart'ner !"
However, next night he feels it's all right
When he sees her again at his palace alight.

Once more by his side through the hall she will glide--
And if he's a chance,

In the midst of the dance
He '11 ask her permission to make her his bride.

Cinderella, taught wisdom by yesterday's scrape,

Though enjoying the ball,

Watched the clock on the wall,

And in plenty of time from the room made escape.

But the Prince, looking out very sharply, no doubt,

Saw what his mysterious guest was about-

So sent for a follower trusty and tried,

And said he was yearning the name to be learning
Of the lady just gone to her carriage outside ;

And so he must ride
A little way on--say just down the next turning-

And follow the coach, let whatever betide !

The Prince then conducted the fair to her coach-

But in vain did his vassal await its approach
To ride in its track, so at last he came back.

At the news of his failure his master looked black,

And instead of a money-bag gave him the sack.

The next night came round--once more the Prince found
His love at the ball--and his heart gave a bound !

In the midst of the hop the question to pop
He determined--and nought his intention should stop.

How sweet are first love's tender words
As on the ear they fall !

More musical than song of birds-

More sweet than whey, more soft than curds,

So welcome to us all.

And, ah ! to Cinderella's ear,

Who'd heard so little love,

How were the Prince's accents dear,

Which her fond heart could plainly hear
All other sounds above !

Her aunt's directions to her niece
Young Cupid makes her shelve ;

When suddenly her joy must cease-

The clock upon the mantelpiece
Is on the stroke of twelve.

One ! run-

Two ! through-

Three ! the-

Four ! door.

Five ! look alive !--If you do not contrive

To be out of the place ere the clock strikes twice six,

I guess, Miss, you 'll be in a tall sort of a fix.

She is off and away without any delay,

Ere the Prince can get rid of his fear and. dismay :

Off down the stairs

Like a mad thing she tears-

When one of her slippers, small blame for that same,

Slipt off altogether, quite true to its name ;

So the Prince when he came
To the top of the staircase his love to pursue,

Found that _she_ was a slipper--but left him a shoe.

What was he to do ? He put two and two
Together at once, "calculating" like Babbage;

And as Taylor would say
In adapting a play,

Remarked, "If that's _choux_, I will make it _my_ cabbage;
The guards were all questioned, but nought could he glean ;
They had carefully watched, but had nobody seen
Except one poor beggar girl, ragged and mean.

£; Who," so one observed, "from her beautiful colour, he
Thought had been scrubbing the pans in the scullery."

The very next day, in the usual way,

His nobles he sent, with a herald, to say,

That the fortunate fair
Who could easily wear
The slipper which they on a cushion then carried
Would be by the Prince instantaneously married.

"Pooh !" say the ladies, as each trial made is,

"Only fit for Chang's lady, that shoe, we 're afraid, is.

You'd better convince that foolish young Prince,

If he waits till it's fitted--the fact not to mince-

He 'll finish at last by not marrying at all ;

The slipper is really too foolishly small !"

But in spite of their sneers, they were all half in tears,
And to get on the slipper bad given their ears ;

Indeed, there were those who cut off their toes
To try and contrive it--or so the tale goes.

Cinderella's two sisters were fiery as blisters,

And abused the young Prince and his learned min/sters,
Altogether, as Toole would observe, "just a-goin' it!"
Because, if you please,

When each tried to squeeze
The shoe on, she scarcely could get her big toe in it.
When they 'd done, Cinderella sat down in the chair :

Oh, didn't they stare with contemptuous air !

While each to the other said, "Well, I declare!"

But when the lords put
The shoe on her foot,

Without any ado it slipt into the shoe--

Said the Prince in a trice, "I 'll wed none, love, but you !"

What more ? The good fairy returned on the scene,

And, instead of the garb which was really not clean,

At a touch of her wand, in a dress of rare sheen
Presented her niece to the Prince who had been
So faithful and fond, and who made her his Queen.

[From the "Post" you will all the particulars glean
Of the marriage performed the two parties between
By a Bishop, assisted by Canon and Dean.]

Her sisters were very near dying of spleen,

And thought their aunt's conduct remarkably mean,

But lived as neglected old maids, spare and lean
(Though they'd never acknowledge to more than nineteen).
So there's no more to tell a-
-Bout sweet Cinderella,

Whose life was quite happy--in fact, "all serene ! "

HOP O' MY THUMB

UPON a forest thick and gloomy

A cottage, the reverse of roomy-

To put it plainly, just a hut
And nothing better--did abut.

'T was built of clay and roofed with straw ;
The walls had many a gap and flaw ;

The chimney wouldn't always draw;

The floor was damp, the ceiling leaky ;

With stains of rains the walls were streaky.
Around the hearth, where seldom smiled
A blazing fire, were faggots piled
As if for fuel-

Oh, mockery cruel !

For they were heaped from floor to raft-
-Ers as a check upon the draught.

The fires that used that draught to flicker to
Consisted only of a stick or two,

Enough to warm a mess of pottage.

Pshaw ! why waste time
In spinning rhyme,

When one can easily contrive
To picture it with words just five ?-

The usual "English labourer's cottage."

There dwelt a goodwife, and her goodman,
Who by profession was a woodman,

But was so poor and so prolific
(A family of seven's terrific

To one whose trade is not _first_ chop),

That oft when trees he'd limb and lop
He wished--his lot did him appal so-

That he could cut his own stick also.

But while he in the woods was hewing,

What, think you, the poor wife was doing,

Who had to sit at home, and see

Her children gather round her knee

With looks that, plain as words could utter,

Said, "Please, we want some bread and butter" r
What could she do but sit and sigh,.

While bitter tears bedewed her eye ?-

His was the "hew," but hers the "cry."

Her household duties were but few :

When she had clothed the infant crew,

The toils that as a rule belong
To cooking, did not take her long ;

They never tasted meat, to vary an
Eternal diet vegetarian.

And well we know, to rear a troop
On turnip broth and carrot soup,

And ne'er taste "pieces of resistance,"

Is vegetation, not existence !

Said the husband one night
As they sat by the light
Of a fire that for them was uncommonly bright, *

"My dear, we have got
One carrot--and not
A single scrap more to put into the pot.

* How it flickered and flared has been drawn con amore
By that notable artist of artists, G. Dore.

We 're as poor as church mice, and there's nothing much surer
Than that we every day shall grow poorer and poorer.

And what for our brats
Can we do, my love ? That's
The question that gnaws at my heart 'like green rats ! '

It's long since we had any victuals to carve,

But now we 've no soup
To spoon out for the group-

What _is_ to be done ? for we can't see them starve."

The wife shook her head,

And mournfully said,

"If we have not the food, why, they cannot be fed ;

Unless we find heart to entrust them all seven .

To the Power that feeds
And attends to the needs
Of the wild things of earth and the winged things of heaven."
Said the father, "That's true !

It's what we must do-

We 'll take to the forest the poor little crew
By roundabout ways, all the more to confuse them ;

And then, when we find they 're not looking, we 'll lose them."

Here the reader polite 'll
Allow the recital
To pause while they 're settling a question so vital ;

And I, in requital,

To make it all right, 'll
Explain how my story has come by its title.

The last child that was born
To this couple forlorn

Was tiny in figure ;

Not very much bigger
Than the wee dancing dolls that one sees in an organ ;

Or rather, so small
That no figure at all
He'd, I think, have been called by Professor de Morgan,

But--devoted to fractions most infinitesimal-

That diminutive point which is known as a decimal.

So, though he was a boy,

And we do not employ-

Says the grammar that Eton lads always enjoy-

For the masculine _omne quod exit in um_,

They christened the little one Hop o' my Thumb.

The father regarded the child with surprise ;

And his mother, poor woman, shed tears for his size,
For she felt as she looked at her babe the misgiving
That so little a boy could but make a small living.

And as he grew older
Still every beholder
That he didn't grow bigger at all always told her ;
But then as some comfort they all of them found him
Possessed of great _nous_,

Though the size of a mouse-

For though he was little, they couldn't get round him.

Now it chanced on the night that begins my narration,
When his parents were holding this grave consultation,
Sleep would not come
To Hop o' my Thumb-

He was on the alert "a remarkable some ; "

So he sat up in bed,

And there by the red
And flickering light that around it was shed,

By the glare of the log
Saw the cat and the dog-

She was poor as a rat ;--he'd a waist like a frog,
Or a greyhound--but due to the absence of prog,
Not the presence of breed,-

He resembled, indeed,

He saw on her cheek a iear-drop glisten,

So he hid himself under her chair to listen

The nags that you see in a cab-driver's stud,

Whose "points" are all owing to bone, not to blood.

There his father and mother
Too sat by each other,

Conversing in tones they seemed anxious to smother,

And he saw on her cheek a tear-drop glisten,

So he hid himself under her chair to listen.

What did he hear ?-

He regarded with fear
Being left in the forest so dismal and drear !

And all for no good,

For 'twas likely he should
Get wholly mislaid, like the Babes in the Wood,

Whom (see story) with leaves the kind robin, alack ! buries,
When they eat, by mistake, deadly nightshade for blackberries !

In a state of despair,

Hidden under the chair,

Poor Hop o' my Thumb heard his parents declare
That the first thing next day they would make the excursion
Which, so they determined, should end in desertion.

"What's to be done ?

This is really no fun :

I m the wretchedest mortal that's under the sun.

To bed I must creep-

But awake I will keep,

For what I've to do is to think, not to-sleep,"

Said Hop o' my Thumb,

When his father said, "Mum !"-

To his mother, intending that she should be dumb
On the subject that late
Had formed their debate-

"I think you had better get breakfast at eight."

The boy stole to bed,

To turn o'er in his head
The things which his father and mother had said,

And discover, if possible, 'cute little chap !

As well as he can,

Some snug little plan
To guard him and brothers against a mishap.

One thing was clear :

When they started from here
He some landmarks must leave by which homeward to steer ;
For if he'd the means to discover the track again,

Go where they would, he could find his way back again !

But in vain to devise
Some guide-post he tries,

Till he's quite wearied out, and sleep closes his eyes.

But while he still sleeps,

On a moonbeam down sweeps
A fairy : beneath his closed eyelids she peeps,

And finding him busy on all sorts of schemes,

To aid his escape

From the morrow's sad scrape,

She a cunning suggestion slips into his dreams.

Where lofty oaks deep shadows make,

And ceaselessly the aspens quake,

Where ancient elms their branches spread,

And ashes whisper overhead ;

Within the forest's darkest glades
There flows a stream among the shades,

Above its wave a hoary group
Of melancholy willows droop.

The kingfisher its waters loves ;

'T is haunted by the startled doves ;

And, free of fear, beside its brink
The dappled fawn oft stops to drink.

'T is fed by twenty tinkling rills,

And here and there--where sunlight spills
Through openings in the boughs o'erhead
A halo, yellow, azure, red-

A tiny rainbow bright and small
Hangs o'er the mimic waterfall ;

Where through the overarching green
Bright glimpses of the sky are seen,

The dancing waters as they go
Mirror the snatch of blue below.

Long mosses wave within its stream,

And silvery fishes glance and gleam,

And water-lilies float and sail.

But these do not concern my tale.

My point, the mystery to unravel,

Is, that the bed of it is gravel,

And that its bays and banks abound
In pebbles small, and smooth, and round.

By the side of this stream,

As he walked in his dream,

It appeared that the pebbles all set up a scream,

"Hop o' my Thumb!
Come hither, boy, come ;

If _we_ cannot show you the way it is rum !" *

At the first streak of day
He is up and away ! ,

He creeps out of the house through a crack in the

* At the slang the stones speak don't, I pray, be offended :
How their schooling's neglected
Must be recollected -

Just remember how often roads have to be mended !

Off like a rocket
To fill every pocket
With stones--precious stones, though not fit for a locket
Brooch, bracelet, or ring,

Or any such thing-

But precious to him for the help they will bring.

Away must he go
Like arrow from bow,

Yet all in a quiver,

And reaches the river.

The scene is a taking one, though this is a giver
Of peaceful delight,

Full of charm for the sight
That reads all the beauty of Nature aright.

On the bank of the stream
Rests one fleeting gleam,

Where the bluebells and dainty anemones teem,

And there rises o'er them
The grey hollow stem
Of an old pollard willow ; while many a gem
From the waters is hung
Leaf and blossom among,

For 't is here that the stream's sweetest madrigal's sung.
But what does he care for song, bluebell, or pollard ?--
There are the jockeys that have to be collared.

Down on his knees he. went, if you please,

And oblivious of sunshine, and blossoms, and trees,

Where the waterfall piped in the shrillest of trebles
Hop o' my Thumb filled his pocket with pebbles.

Then homeward he stole,

Returned through the hole,

And crept into bed, not disturbing a soul ;

But feeling the danger completely forestalled.

Curled up, and slept soundly until he was called !

At eight o' clock the mother rose,

And donning mournfully her clothes,

Lit up some sticks and put the kettle on,
As she and he did last night settle on :--
The water boiling, in goes, souse !

The one last carrot in the house.

The hapless mother can't but feel
In any case it's their last meal ;

For even if they now gave up

The plan on which they had agreed,

There's nothing left,--nor bite nor sup,--
Her hungry, starving babes to feed.

Less pain 't will be, she feels, poor mother,
To lose them one way than another.

And so this poor Hagar
Prepared her _soupe maigre_,

While grief and perplexity harass and plague her.
And soon as their eyes
Are open, with cries
Of "Oh, we 're so hungry !" the little ones rise.
While the father, who's not
Very great at a plot,

Conceives that his plan some more treachery lacks ;
So in order to hatch it, goes out with his axe,
And makes an attempt at restoring his mind's tone
By setting the edge of the blade to the grindstone.

The poor little souls
Sit down to their bowls,

And eat up their pottage without any rolls.

It's not a remarkably nourishing diet,

But it eases the pangs
Qf hunger's sharp fangs,

And the wolf in the stomach keeps partially quiet.

But the mother's afraid
It's far from well made,

For the carrot's fine flavour and strength haven't stopt in it,
And it's rather too salt--from the tears that have dropt in it.

However, no matter !

They clear out each platter :

. In expecting a share of the soup, dog and cat err ;

If they want a first course they must e'en lick the dish for it,
And as for the second, they 'll have to go fish for it-

A third they 'll not meet with, however they wish for it.

So the table was cleared ;

The cloth disappeared :

And then came what Hop o' my Thumb had so feared.
Said the father, "Come, children, I'm off to the wood,

And I 'll take you all with me providing you 're good.

There are lots of wild fruits,

Not to mention the roots,

And the hawthorns are putting forth midsummer shoots.
You 'll have plenty to eat-

'T will be really a treat ;-

So run to your mother, and all be made neat ! "

Off they ran in great glee
To their mother, and she
Did the best that she could for the boys ; but, you see,
A respectable look's not the easiest of matters
To give to clothes made of shreds, patches, and tatters.

However, at last, inspected and passed,

They set out for the forest so gloomy and vast.

The father goes first with his axe on his shoulder,

The next place was the mother's,

And then all the others ;

First he of the brothers
Who is than the rest of the family older,

And so from the tallest
Right down to the smallest,

On a scale that would greatly amuse a beholder.

And, pray, who last of all should come
But the mite of the family, Hop o' my Thumb r
Trudging along,

Humming a song,

As if he were quite unsuspecting of wrong,

But keeping an eye
Very much on the sly
On the various objects the road took them by,

And here and there along the track
Dropping a pebble to guide him back.

On they went still, mounting a hill
In the sort of locality papers call "ill"-

That retired kind of spot
You would look on as not
An unsuitable place for the scene of a murther-

Up the steep gloomy slope
They stumble and grope ;

They'd come to a fir wood, but still they went further.

At last the old woodcutter cried out a halt,

Set the children to play,

And then stole away
With his wife when he fancied they'd all be at fault.

And so they were rather

When, weary of playing
And running and straying,

They hunted in vain for their mother and father.

Oh, where could they be ?

In bush, thicket, and tree
They searched, but their parents they nowhere could see.
And some of them cried,

"Oh, where do you hide ? "

As young Lovell remarked to his beautiful bride,

Who got in "the _wrong_ box," while the key was outside,
And suffered such pains in the chest that she died.