Chapter IV: Part 4

“So here you are!” said the little brown creature as he helped Olaf to his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time. Look!” He ran into the cave and came out dragging a broom behind him, and holding a stone so polished that even in the dim light Olaf could see his face in it. And Olaf wondered and wondered.

“Look! I’ve worn out two hundred and thirty of these brooms, and polished that rough stone smooth—all for want of proper work, since I had to leave the village.”

“Are you the Brownie?” asked Olaf, joyfully.

“Yes,” was the answer.

“Are you Aiken-Drum?”

“Yes,” came the answer again.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since I can remember. That was why the sheep knew,—because you live on the moor.”

“Yes,” said the Brownie, “the sheep know me.”

“Will you come back to the village, now?” asked Olaf.

“Not yet,” said the Brownie. “You and I must travel the world together. Then I’ll go back. Your father should have known better than to pay a Brownie. He should have known that we work for love. Here I have been all this time wearing out brooms on these rocks and polishing a stone, waiting for the village child to find me. And you’ve come!” said the Brownie, as he danced into the cave. He soon returned carrying a little wooden cage with a big cockroach inside. He opened the cage and took the cockroach on his finger.

“You’ve found me,” he kept saying, “you’ve found me! Now there’s nothing left but the travels. Fly, cockroach,” he cried, “fly fast and straight, and tell my brothers that Olaf has come. Tell them to launch the boat. Tell them we are coming—Olaf and I.”

He let the cockroach fly from his hand and it boomed away in the still air of the summer night. Olaf heard a kr-r-r-r-r-r in the pine woods. It might, he thought, be the Brownies launching the little boat.

And that is how Olaf found the Brownie and came to make his travels with him. They sailed away—away to Glittering Harbor where great ships lay close together in the golden sunset; they won the marvelous horse and they found the white flower that can be bought only for love—like the Brownies’ services.

By and by their travels were over and Aiken-Drum returned with Olaf to the village of Blednock. And that is why the kitchen floors of these village people are so wonderfully scrubbed and why the pans shine brighter than those in any other kitchens of the country side. And Aiken-Drum has a merry life as he scrubs the pans and washes the dishes, and he is very, very happy to know that he will _never_ be paid for it.

THE POOR LITTLE TURKEY GIRL

All alone in a very old cottage near the border of a village lived a little girl who herded turkeys for a living. She was very, very poor. Her clothes were patched and tattered. Little was ever given to her except the food she lived on from day to day, and now and then a piece of old worn-out clothing.

But the child had a winning face and bright eyes. She had also a very loving disposition. She was always kind to the turkeys which she drove to and from the plains every day, giving to them the affection she longed for but which she herself never received from anyone. The turkeys loved their little mistress in return. They would come immediately at her call and they would go willingly anywhere she wished to send them.

One day as the little girl went along, driving her turkeys to the plains, she heard a great commotion in the village. She stopped to see the cause of the excitement and found it to be a herald who was proclaiming from the house top, “The great festival will take place in four days. Come youths and maidens. Come one, come all. Join in the Dance of the Sacred Bird!”

Now this child had never been permitted to join in or even watch this great festivity of the people, and she longed with all her heart to see it.

“My dear turkeys, how I should love to watch this blessed festival, particularly the Dance of the Sacred Bird!” It was her custom to talk matters over with her turkeys, for they were the child’s only companions. She told them day after day of the wonderful festival that was to be, and how happy she would feel if she could join in the dance with the others. “But it is impossible, my beloved turkeys, ugly and ill-clad as I am,” she would say, when she saw the people of the village busy in cleaning their houses and preparing their clothes, laughing and talking as they made ready for the greatest holiday of the year.

The poor child never dreamed that her turkeys understood every word she said to them. But they did, and more.

The fourth day came, and all the people of the village went to join in the festivities. All but one, and that one was the poor little turkey girl who wandered about alone with her beloved flock. Soon she sat down upon a stone to rest, for she was sad at the thought of all the merrymaking while she was alone on the plains.

Suddenly it seemed to the little girl that one of her big gobblers, making a fan of his tail, and skirts of his wings, strutted up to her and, stretching out his neck said, “Little Mother, we know what your thoughts and wishes are and we are truly sorry for you. We wish that you, like all the other people of the village, might enjoy this holiday. Many times we have said to ourselves at night, after you had safely placed us in our house, that you are as worthy to enjoy these gayeties as anyone in the village. Little Mother, would you like to see this dance and even join in it and be merry with the rest?”

The poor child was at first surprised, then it all seemed so very natural that her turkeys should talk to her as she had always done to them, that she looked up and said, “My dear Gobbler, how glad I am that we may speak together. But tell me what it all means.”

“Listen well, then, for I speak the speech of my people. If you will drive us in early this afternoon, when the dance is most gay and the people are happiest, we will help you to make yourself so pretty and so beautifully dressed that no man, woman, or child among all those assembled at the dance will know you. Are you willing to do as we turkeys say?”

“Oh, my dear turkeys, why should you tell me of things that you well know I long to do but cannot by any possible means in the world?”

“Trust in us,” said the old gobbler. “When we begin to call and gobble and gobble and turn toward home, follow us and we will show you what we can do for you: Only let me tell you one thing. Much happiness and good fortune may come to you through the chance for pleasure which we turkeys are going to give you. But if, through your own great happiness, you forget us, who are your friends and who depend so much upon you, we shall think that our Little Mother, though so humble and poor, deserves her hard life. We shall think that, since good fortune came to her, she does unto others as others now do to her.”

“Come, then,” said the old gobbler, and the little girl followed him. All the turkeys of their own accord followed the old gobbler and their Little Mother homeward. They knew their places well and ran to them as soon as they could. When they had all gone into their home the old gobbler called out, “Come in.” The little girl went in. “Now sit down and give me and my companions your articles of clothing one by one. You will see what we can do with them.”

The little girl took off the ragged old shawl that covered her shoulders and laid it upon the ground in front of the old gobbler. He seized it in his beak and spread it out. Then he picked and picked at it and trod upon it, and, lowering his wings, strutted back and forth, back and forth over the old worn-out garment. Once more he took it in his beak and strutted and puffed and puffed and strutted, until he finally laid it at the feet of the little girl—a beautiful white cloak, all silk-embroidered.

Then another gobbler came forward and took an article of the little girl’s clothing which he made over into a beautiful gown of golden cloth. Then another gobbler came, and another and another, until each garment the little girl had worn was new and more beautiful than any owned by the richest woman of the land.

The little girl began to dress herself in the beautiful clothes, but before she finished her turkeys circled around her, singing and singing and clucking and clucking, and brushing her with their wings until she was clean and her face was as smooth and bright as that of the fairest maiden in the village. Her hair was soft and wavy and her cheeks were full of dimples and her eyes danced with smiles, for now she knew how true were the words of her beloved turkeys. At last one old turkey came forward and said, “You shall have rich jewels, Little Mother; we turkeys have keen eyes and have picked up many valuable things in our wanderings. Wait a moment.” He spread out his wings and strutted off, but he soon returned with a beautiful necklace in his beak. “See, this is for you.” The little girl could scarcely believe her own eyes. “And this, too,” said another turkey, as he came up and laid a pair of earrings in her hand.

With these beautiful things the Little Mother decorated herself and, after thanking her beloved turkeys again and again, she started to go. As she did so all the turkeys seemed to call out in one voice: “Oh, Little Mother, we love you and we would bring you to good fortune. Leave our door open, for who knows whether you will remember your turkeys when your fortunes are changed. Perhaps you will grow ashamed that you have been our Little Mother. Remember us and do not tarry too long.”

“I will surely remember, O my turkeys,” and with that she was on her way to the great festival. Hastily she ran down the river path toward the village until she came to a long covered way that led into the great dance court. When she came just inside the court she could see the crowd of villagers making merry in the great dance. She drew nearer as if to join the others, when every eye at once seemed to catch sight of her beauty and the richness of her dress. “Who is this beautiful maiden?” they asked one another. “Where did she come from?”

“She is the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen,” said a prince. “She shall lead the dance with me.”

With a smile and a toss of her hair over her eyes the little girl accepted the prince’s invitation and stepped forward into the circle. Her heart became light and her feet merry, and she danced and danced until the sun sank low in the west. But alas! so great was her own happiness that she thought little about her turkeys at home and her promise to them. “Why should I go away from all this pleasure, to my flock of gobbling turkeys?” she said to herself. “I will stay a little longer at least. Just before the sun sets I’ll run back to them. Then these people will never know who I am, and I shall like to hear them talk day after day and wonder who the little girl was who joined in their dance.”

So the time sped on and another dance was called, and another, and never a moment did the little girl stop. At last she noticed that the sun had set. Then, suddenly breaking away, she ran out of the dance court down the long covered way, up the river path toward home, before any one could see where she had gone or which path she had taken. All breathless, she arrived at the door of the turkeys’ house and looked in. Not one turkey was there. The little girl called and called them. She ran into their house, she looked around, but not one of her beloved turkeys was to be seen. “Where are they?” she kept saying to herself, at the same time calling them with all the voice she had, “Come my turkeys, come, come.” But there was no answer. “I must trail them. Perhaps they have gone back to the plains.” She ran to the plains, then on to the valley, but her flock of turkeys was far, far away.

After a long, long trail over the plains, up and down the valleys, she came within sound of their voices. “I hear them, I hear my turkeys.” Faster and faster ran the little girl until she caught sight of her beloved flock hurrying away toward the woods, round the mountain and on up the valley. She could hear them saying something over and over again. As she drew nearer she called and called to them, but it was all of no use. They only quickened their steps and spread their wings to help them along. “She has forgotten us,” they kept saying. “She is not worthy of better things than those she has been accustomed to. Let us go to the mountains. Our Little Mother is not as good and true as we once thought her.” Then they spread their wings and fluttered away over the plains above and were soon lost from sight. The poor little turkey girl put her hands over her face, then she looked down at her dress. Alas! what did she see? Her old clothes, patched and tattered. She was a poor little turkey girl again. Sad at heart she looked toward the valley and gave one loud call, “Oh, my turkeys come back to me, come back.”

“Gobble, gobble, gobble,” she heard beside her. The poor little girl sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked about her. There were her beloved turkeys gathered around her calling “Gobble, gobble, gobble!” They wanted to go home, for the sun was ready to set and the village people were returning from the festival.

“Oh, my beloved turkeys,” said the little girl, when she understood it all. “I would not part with you for all the fine dresses and festivals in the whole world. How glad I am it was only a dream!”

MEADOW FIDDLERS

The red-legged locust. Oh, my, oh, my!
He plays all day. But why? But why?
You rub your legs with your dusty wings;
Your fiddle shrieks till the welkin rings;
On meadow green, through the livelong day,
You saw and eat till they’re bare and gray
Zee-e-e, zee-e-, zee-e-e!

The green katydid. Dear me, dear me!
The finest chap. Just see, just see;
You play so hard and you trill so long,
Your midget wife ne’er can sing a song,
Still you rub your wings in the drollest way
While dancing clover blossoms swing and sway
Zig, zig, z-i-g, zig, zig, z-i-g!

Cone-headed grasshopper, zip-zee, zip-zee,
The insects’ clown is he, is he!
From Maine o’er plains to the Rockies found,
With foolscap forehead and shrilling sound,
From bush and bramble your roundelay
Comes sharp and clear through the summer day,
Z-szip-zee. Z-szip, z-szip-zee!

The wee tree cricket. So free, so free!
Sings night and day! What glee, what glee!
Your high held wings make such presto fine
No human skill can compare with thine;
So fast, so shrill, and so wondrous gay,
Such tunes are joy to a dancing fay,
T-ree-ee, t-re-ee, t-re-ee! T-re-ee, t-re-ee, t-re-ee!

Sweet meadow fiddlers, zip, zee, zip, zee!
They fill the earth with glee, with glee!
We greet your coming with fond delight
And gayly hie in the sunshine bright,
Where bees and blossoms and birds all day
Wing, swing, and sing to your joyful lay.
Zip-zip-z-ee! zip-zip-z-ee!

CASTLE FORTUNE

One fine morning at sunrise, two strong young men were sauntering along through the fields. As they journeyed toward the east the gray morning mist cleared away in the distance, and there on a very high hill stood a beautiful castle with sparkling windows and glistening towers all bathed in the morning light.

“Come,” said one of the youths eagerly, “let us go over to it!”

“What!” exclaimed the other, who was a lazy fellow, “do you not know that it is miles away? I am sure I cannot walk so far.”

“Try,” said a sweet strange voice.

On turning about they saw a lovely fairy dressed in gauzy white, holding a golden wand in her hand. She was standing on a magic crystal ball which rolled along with her toward the distant castle. As she passed the travelers, she pointed with her wand toward the east smilingly, and said, “Follow me!”

“That would be easy to do,” mumbled the lazy youth, “if one could roll along as you do with no effort.” He then threw himself down on the grass to rest.

His companion, however, started off after the fairy as fast as he could run, and catching hold of her floating robe he cried, “Who are you?”

“I am Fortune,” she answered. “Yonder is my castle. Follow me there. Waste no time, and if you reach the castle before midnight I’ll receive you as a friend. But remember! If you come one moment after the last stroke of midnight, the door will be closed against you.”

With these words the fairy drew her robe about her and rolled swiftly on in the morning breeze. And the crystal ball sparkled, sparkled in the sunlight.

The youth now hurried back to his companion and said breathlessly, “Yonder is the Castle of Fortune. Come! Let us go!”

“What nonsense!” said the lazy youth. “With a good horse one might get there easily, but for my part I don’t intend to try to walk all that way.”

“Farewell, then,” said his friend, and away he started briskly with his eyes fixed steadily on the distant towers. The lazy youth sighed wearily and threw himself down on the soft grass. “If only good luck would show me an easy way to get there,” he murmured. “How beautiful the castle looks!” He then stretched himself out and fell fast asleep. In a little while he was awakened by something like a warm breeze blowing in his ear. He slowly rubbed his eyes and yawned aloud. Then he heard the neighing of a horse, and turning, he saw standing near a beautiful milk white steed all saddled and bridled!

“Good luck,” he cried. “Come here, my fine friend. You and I will soon reach the castle.” Then he jumped into the saddle and started off at a fine gait.

He soon passed his comrade and called out, “What do you think of my steed?”

The other did not speak, but nodded cheerily and kept on at a steady pace.

About midday the horse and rider reached the summit of a hill. In the distance the castle towers shone brightly against the clear blue sky. Presently the horse turned into a shady grove on the hillside and stopped.

“A very good idea!” exclaimed the lazy man. “‘Make haste slowly’ is good wisdom. This shady slope is a fine place to rest awhile, and my appetite is keen enough to enjoy the luncheon I have in my pocket.” So, jumping off, he found a cool shady nook and stretched himself out on the grass.

After he had eaten his savory sandwich he felt so drowsy that he soon fell into a sound sleep. What a pleasant sleep he had! He dreamed he was in Castle Fortune resting on downy cushions. Every wish he had was granted! Soft strains of music soothed him, while brilliant fireworks all crimson and gold were set off in his honor. This continued for some time, when suddenly the explosion of a beautiful Roman candle awoke him. He sat up rubbing his eyes. In the west the sun was sinking, and he could hear the song of a traveler in the valley below! “I must have been asleep a long while!” he murmured. “It is high time to be off. Ready, my steed! Where are you?”

He whistled and shouted again and again, but no steed came. An old bony gray donkey browsing on the hilltop was the only creature in sight. “Better a donkey than nothing,” the lazy man thought. So he walked slowly over to the place where the beast was grazing, and mounted him.

After some urging, the donkey set off at a slow jog. The lazy man soon found that this kind of traveling was very uncomfortable. The donkey trudged slowly on. Soon it began to grow dark. In the distance he could see that the castle was being lighted up. How beautiful it looked. He was becoming anxious. If only the donkey would move a little faster. But instead he seemed to be going slower and slower, slower and slower, until in the midst of a thick wood the beast stood still and refused to move. The rider coaxed and threatened and urged and kicked. It was of no use. The donkey refused to move. At last the lazy man was thoroughly aroused. He struck the beast a hard blow with his fist, screaming, “Get on, I say.” Up went the donkey’s heels and over his head into the briers and stones went the rider. What a plight to be in! He was bruised and sore and bewildered. He sat up and tried to collect his thoughts. Ah! There in the distance the lights were shining in Castle Fortune. Oh, for a soft comfortable couch on which to rest his aching bones. The stubborn old donkey! Where could he be?

He crept about in every direction, hoping to find his donkey, but after tearing his clothes and bruising himself he gave up the search. Suddenly his hand struck something that felt a little like a saddle. It was mounted on something soft and slimy.

He hesitated. Castle Fortune’s clock was striking. He counted the strokes. “Eleven o’clock!” he exclaimed in amazement. He threw himself into the queer saddle. “This is rather comfortable,” he exclaimed as he leaned against a high back. How slowly the creature moved. At last they reached a clearing, where a long straight road led directly to Castle Fortune with its beautiful towers and its windows ablaze with lights.

The sight of the castle filled him with longing. He turned his attention for a minute to the strange creature he was riding. Horror! He was mounted on a huge snail, quite as large as a calf. No wonder they had crept along at a snail’s pace.

One! The great clock struck the first stroke of the midnight hour. He pushed both heels into his steed’s soft sides. In an instant the snail drew his head into the shell and rolled over on the ground.

Two! struck the great clock. Had the lazy man taken to his heels he might even now have reached the castle before the last stroke of the great clock. But no! There he stood filled with regret and fear. “A beast! A beast!” he cried, “Oh, for any kind of a beast to carry me to the castle!”

Three! What was moving near him? Was it the long lost steed? Without further thought he jumped into something like a low saddle. His heart leaped as he looked up! There in the open door of Castle Fortune stood his friend waving his cap and beckoning to him.

Four! chimed the great clock. The queer steed began to rouse himself.

Five! The creature moved slowly forward.

Six! What an awkward steed it was.

Seven! Which way were they going?

Eight! What! Were they moving backward? Impossible! He would jump off and run.

Nine! To our rider’s great surprise he found he was held fast by the creature’s claws which extended on all sides. Horror! He was riding on a giant crab!

Ten! Backward they moved!

Eleven! Farther and farther they were going away from the castle.

TWELVE! The castle doors shut with a clang. Castle Fortune’s doors were closed forever to the lazy man.

A LITTLE DUTCH GARDEN

I passed by a garden, a little Dutch garden,
Where useful and pretty things grew;
Heartsease and tomatoes, and pinks and potatoes,
And lilies and onions and rue.

I saw in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
A chubby Dutch man with a spade;
And a rosy Dutch frau with a shoe like a scow,
And a flaxen-haired little Dutch maid.

There grew in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
Blue flag flowers lovely and tall;
And early blush roses, and little pink posies,
And Gretchen was fairer than all.

My heart’s in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
It tumbled right in as I passed,
‘Mid ‘wildering mazes of spinach and daisies,
And Gretchen is holding it fast.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP

Down yonder by the thrashing floors, where the husbandmen thrash out their corn, some large black ants once established themselves and built their nests. They settled themselves in that place in order to be near good and wholesome food, such as wheat, barley, and maize, which they carried off whether the farmers liked it or not.

These ants prospered and became so numerous that they formed themselves into a kingdom, and had their own king.

The king, who was an old ant, was very wise and courageous. As he was a real king, he wore a golden crown upon his head and held a golden scepter in his hand.

His crown was a small piece of round gold wire, which fitted his head splendidly. His soldiers in one of their raids had found it in a country maiden’s casket. They took possession of it, and presented it to their sovereign. In the same way they had come across the scepter, which they saw one day on the thrashing floor, and appropriated in like manner. It was nothing more than a little gold watch key which had dropped off the chain of the village steward, but that was of no consequence, because as soon as the royal hand grasped it, it derived value from that circumstance alone.

The king had his own carriage. It was made out of a nutshell, and was drawn by two swift and well-harnessed beetles, who, like all royal horses, were well trained. The king generally drove out, because his majesty was now so aged that he had become quite white and feeble.

So you see that he had every blessing, and his people loved him very much. But he was not happy for he was weary and no longer found pleasure in anything. Perhaps this was because he had so much.

One day there was a great tumult in the ant kingdom. A regiment of soldiers, which had gone out upon an excursion, returned after a brilliant victory, and brought back great spoils, and also four prisoners.

The king, from the balcony of his palace, with his crown on his head and his scepter in his hand, greeted his army as it marched before him in great order, saluting him with, “Long live the King!” Then he ordered that the four prisoners should be brought before him, that he might try them.

The first captive was a spider.

“What is your name?” asked the king.

“Spider,” she answered humbly, and did homage with her two forelegs.

“Where were you born?” said the king.

“I was born in the mill’s dark cellar.”

After many other questions the king again said, “What art do you know?”

“I know how to weave,” said the spider. “No one can surpass me in weaving. I am the very, very best weaver in the whole wide world.”

“Good!” said the king. “You shall weave some cloth for my palace, and if your work is satisfactory, I will set you free; if not, I shall hand you over to my soldiers to be cut to pieces. Shut her up in prison and let her begin at once.”

As the king decreed this, he lowered his scepter and struck it on the ground, when immediately soldiers dragged off the spider by her feet, and put her in a cell.

The second prisoner, which was a bee, was then brought forward. The king in like manner questioned her. She said her name was “Bee,” and did him obeisance. Upon his inquiring where she was born, she replied, “In a hive, which was a house built for a number of bees to live in.”

“Do you know any trade or profession?” inquired the king.

“Certainly, your majesty, I know how to make a most delicious food. No one can excel me.”

“Good!” said the king. “You shall make all the sweetmeats that are required at the forthcoming festival, when the peasants spread their thrashing floors. If I am pleased with them, I shall release you; but if not, I shall order my soldiers to cut off your head. Shut her up in prison, and let her begin at once.”

Again he knocked with his scepter, and the detachment of soldiers led the bee off to prison. Then the king said: “Bring in the two other prisoners together, that we may finish with them; for I have other business of the kingdom on hand.”

The third and fourth captives were brought in together. One was a grasshopper, and the other a cricket.

When they were asked the customary questions as to their places of birth, the first replied, “At the roots of a bush of thyme.” And the other, “In the air!”

Then the king proceeded with: “And what arts do you know?”

“I know how to sing,” cried the cricket.

“And I, how to dance,” said the grasshopper.

“Splendid arts, truly, both the one and the other,” called out the king in a rage, and he knocked with his scepter so loudly that all his courtiers and soldiers, as well as the two prisoners, were frightened. “Since you know nothing, you are plainly of no use. I shall have you cut up, the pair of you.”

“Please, your majesty,” said the cricket boldly, while the grasshopper trembled with fear, “can we do nothing? Do we know nothing? Because this lady and myself cannot weave like the spider or make sweetmeats like the bee? We are worthy people, and the whole world loves us. We amuse all the insects on both hill and plain; we make life in the long summer days when the sun is hot a little less wearisome; then I sing, and she dances, and for those who see and hear us time soon passes. Allow us the same privilege before your majesty, and you can then judge if we be deserving of freedom or death.”

The king was not hard-hearted, and after hearing this plea of the cricket, he said, “I grant your request. I have a little time in which to divert myself, and if you can succeed in giving me pleasure in a short space of time, I will give you both your liberty, and grant you each any favor that you may ask.”

He gave orders to release them. The cricket then began to sing with all the skill that she possessed, and the grasshopper danced at the same time. Neither the king nor any of his courtiers or soldiers had ever heard so sweet a voice, or seen so artistic a dance. His majesty was delighted; his old face beamed all over, and he struck merrily with his scepter, and shouted: “Well done! Bravo! I’ll free you—I’ll free you. I only request that whenever you have the time or the inclination, you will come and amuse me and my subjects a little. Labor is good, but life wants some few pleasures also. I told you that I would grant you any favor that you asked for. Ask now what you will.” Then the cricket said pleadingly, “Your majesty, I ask this favor—that the poor spider may be released.”

“You have a good heart,” answered the king; “be it so.” And he turned to the grasshopper. “And what favor do you ask, madam dancer?”

“May it please your majesty to release the bee?”

“And you, too, have a good heart; your wish is granted.” And the king ordered the release of the prisoners.

They were immediately set free, and all the ants conducted them out of the ant hills, while the cricket, full of joy, sang along the road:

“Zi zi zi and zi zi zi,
May our lord the king live joyfully,
And all his people as well as he.”

Merry have we met,
And merry have we been;
Merry let us part,
And merry meet again.

OLD RIME.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected typographical errors. 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.