Chapter VI: Part 6

Sometimes field laborers, on going out in the morning to weed, or to reap, would find the work already done. A poor farmer’s wife coming into her kitchen in the morning to make the fire would find the wood all cut, and laid in order, and a pail of water brought from the spring. Sometimes the little people would go into the dining room, and wash the glasses, and clean the silver. Occasionally they would go to work, and drive all the mice and spiders out of a house. They washed dishes, and cleaned vegetables, and made themselves useful about the house in every possible way. All they required in return was a little food. A bowl of milk, or some nice fresh bread, was set upon the kitchen table, and that was supper enough for a kobold.

Some of them preferred to work in stables. They would curry the horses; comb out their manes; shake down straw for the litters, and clean the stables. But this is hard work, and the little things would get very tired. So the coachmen, and the farmers used to tie knots in the manes of the horses to afford resting places for the kobolds. They would sit in these to rest their weary limbs and often take a little nap there to refresh themselves.

They visited the sheep in the fold, or on the hill-sides, and kept the fleeces white and clean.

There were many other things the kobolds did, but I have told enough to give you an idea of the busy, and helpful life they led; and will now return to the colony that lived in the old castle.

The owl looked down and watched the frolic of the dwarfs for nearly an hour. Then one of the three dwarfs, who formed the Council, blew a shrill blast upon a whistle. At this signal the whole colony gathered into a group in front of the Council. Now all were quiet, and the owl knew this was his time to speak, for the tasks of the night were to be given out, and as each one received his commission, he would go away.

The owl flapped his wings, and they all looked up. Some of them had seen him before, and knew him to be one of the king’s messengers. So they invited him to a seat on a rock near them, and listened with respectful attention while he told them of the bad behavior of the giants, and of the advice of the wise woman. He took good care not to tell them that the king at first thought this advice ridiculous, but made it appear that his majesty relied upon the good dwarfs to conquer the giants, and to make them behave peaceably. The method of accomplishing this he left entirely to their wisdom.

It was a very flattering speech, and the owl looked so grave while delivering his message that the dwarfs believed every word of it. Never in all the history of kobolds had anything like this happened. The giants were the beings that the dwarfs feared more than any other creatures, and they took very good care always to keep out of their way. And now their king thought them capable of vanquishing these gigantic enemies! The whole colony became at once puffed up with pride and vanity, and clamored to the Council to lead them forth immediately to fight the giants.

Two of the members of the Council had their wits completely carried away by the enthusiasm of the colony, and waved their hats, and shouted, “On to the giants!” But the third member sat quiet until all the company had shouted themselves hoarse, and were still once more. Then he said:

“My friends, we can never conquer the giants in an open fight. One of these huge creatures could crush a dozen of us at a time with one foot, and a giant’s club would knock our whole colony higher than a kite. Moreover we know nothing about fighting. The kobolds have been peaceable people from the beginning of time, and all warfare is distasteful to us. The giants are big and strong, but everybody knows they have not much wit, while our small heads are full of brains. The giants do nothing but mischief, and any fool can do that. But we spend our time in work that requires intelligence and skill. The king has honored us by selecting us to punish the giants for their bad behavior, and I feel sure we can conquer them; but we must do it by using our brains, and not with weapons of war.”

The name of the dwarf who thus spoke, was Bron, and he was looked upon by the whole colony as the brightest wit among them. So they listened attentively to all he had to say. But they were not in the humor for following this good advice. The king evidently expected them to fight the giants, and fight them they would.

They sent a message back to the king that they were going forth to battle, and, in three days, would bring to him, as a trophy, the head of Kruge, the chief giant.

The dwarfs now consulted as to a plan of action. It was agreed that they should, in a body, march upon the stronghold of Kruge, surprise him while asleep, and tie him down, fast and firm, with a great number of small cords. Then they would cut off his head.

If Kruge was killed, or submitted to them, the remaining giants were as good as conquered, for they all depended upon Kruge.

The kobolds sharpened their little swords that had only been used for cutting twigs, and strings. They made bows and arrows, and gathered sharp sticks, and armed themselves with brooms, and hoes, and spades, and reaping-hooks. They organized companies, and drilled, and marched, and counter-marched all night long; and enjoyed it immensely. They slept soundly the next day; and by night, they were ready for action.

They marched gaily forth in four bands of a hundred each. The first band was assigned to Bron. He did not approve of the expedition any more than at first, and his heart was sad, for he thought his tribe was marching to certain death. But, as they were determined to fight, he resolved to go with them, and do his best. It was better to die with them than to live alone.

Kruge lived a long distance from the castle, and, as the dwarfs had to rest most of the day, it was late in the second night when they drew near the great cave where the giant dwelt. Fortune favored them, for Kruge lay outside of the cave stretched upon the ground fast asleep. He did not hear the delicate footfalls of the tiny creatures who had come to him with such evil intent, and they could easily tie him down without awaking him. But the dwarfs saw that their small cords would avail nothing when the giant did awake. He would snap them in a minute. And the probability was that as soon as they commenced sawing at his throat to cut his head off he would wake up. What would become of them then? He could crush half a dozen of them with one hand. His size too, was appalling! They had forgotten he was so _very_ big when they sent the king word they would cut off his head.

While they whispered these things to each other, and became more frightened every moment, Bron tried to rally them into some sort of order, and some show of courage.

Suddenly the giant drew in his breath, and sent it out again in a most tremendous snore. The sound was as loud and terrible to the kobolds as the roarings of a lion is to men. Those standing in front of the giant’s mouth were blown by his breath to the distance of a hundred yards, and fell, badly bruised. And then commenced a mad stampede. The dwarfs fairly tumbled over each other in their haste to get away, and they did not stop to take breath until they reached the friendly shelter of a field of mushrooms, fully a mile from the giant’s cave. Some of the very little ones finding their legs failing them, sprang upon the backs of butterflies, and bees, and made the rest of the journey in that fashion.

The dwarfs were obliged to acknowledge that their expedition had failed; and they were so heartily ashamed of this attempt at warfare that they told Bron he might arrange the affair with the giants according to his best wisdom, and they would faithfully do as he bade them.

Bron pondered over the matter for several days. He thought of a great many stratagems for conquering the giants, but dismissed them from his mind one after another. A giant was a very unwieldy object to manage. At last he made up his mind he would consult a very cunning fox, who lived near.

The fox said to him; “You know that turkeys roost on trees?”

“Yes,” said Bron, wondering what that had to do with the matter.

“And you know that foxes can’t climb trees?”

“Yes.”

“Did you never observe that I can get a turkey whenever I want one?”

“Yes.”

“Now, how do you suppose I get that turkey when it is high up on the tree, and I can’t climb to it?”

“I never thought anything about it,” said Bron, “but it _is_ curious, now I do think of it.”

“This is the way I do it. I walk round and round that tree. The silly turkey turns its head round and round to look after me. Pretty soon it gets dizzy, and falls off.”

“I see,” said Bron. “Thank you.”

He went at once to the dwarfs, and told them he had resolved to conquer the giant himself, in single combat.

They tried to dissuade him, and told him he would never come out from that fight alive, and that the colony could not get along without him. It would be better to send word to king Rhine that the task he had assigned the dwarfs was too hard, and that they could not do it.

But Bron said the honor of the kobolds was at stake, and he was resolved to fight Kruge.

The king laughed when Bron made his proposition. He challenged the giant Kruge to single combat. If he succeeded in cutting off the forelock of the giant’s head; Kruge, and all the giants, were to be servants to the kobolds. If he failed to do this, the kobolds were to be servants to the giants.

The giants laughed when they accepted the challenge. And all the Dryads, and Nixies, and Elves, and Sylphs, and Fairies laughed when they heard the news.

In a few days a great concourse of these creatures assembled to witness the sport. The combat took place in a grassy field on the bank of the river. All the giants were there. But the kobolds thought it best not to attend. The gnomes however, crept out of their dark homes, anxious for the fate of their cousins, the kobolds.

Bron and Kruge entered the open field, and, for a moment, stood, and looked steadfastly at each other. The dwarf had to strain his eyes a little to look up so far as the giant’s head. Bron was pale, but he had a resolute air. As for Kruge, he burst into a loud laugh at the ridiculous figure cut by his small antagonist. He laughed so that he had to bend over, and hold his sides. Everybody laughed except the gnomes. The king, himself, could not restrain a smile.

Bron now slowly walked around the giant, as if examining him. The giant looked after him. Presently Bron began to walk more swiftly, and the giant turned round and round to see what the little fellow was going to do. Soon Bron was running, and the giant, much amused at this mode of warfare, turned and turned until he got tired of the sport. “I will catch the pigmy up and hold him tightly in my fist,” he thought; and he made a step forward for this purpose. He was so dizzy, by this time, that he fell headlong upon the ground. As quick as thought, Bron cut off the forelock from the giant’s head, and held it up with a shout of triumph.

All but the giants clapped their hands, and shouted. The crowd surrounded the plucky little fellow, and bore him to the king, who immediately conferred upon him a vast estate, consisting of several acres of marsh grass.

Kruge now offered to Bron the services of himself and of the other giants, according to the terms of agreement. But Bron modestly said that he was only an individual member of a community, and that the dwarfs in a body must decide upon the duties of the giants. He therefore requested Kruge to carry him on his hand to the home of the kobolds, where they would settle this affair. The giant was very angry, but he was forced to comply. Bron stood up on the palm of the giant’s hand, and Kruge reached the old castle in a few strides. Bron desired to be put down in front of the cellar door, and he then marched high up in the ruined tower to a great hall, where the kobolds held their solemn meetings. As for the giant his head just reached the hall when he stood upon the ground.

Bron found the whole tribe of kobolds there assembled, talking over the wonderful event. They were very much startled, and not a little frightened at this sudden appearance of Kruge in their midst, especially as he did not look at them very pleasantly. But Bron with a very grand air, presented the giant to them as his captive, and lawful prize, won in single combat.

It was then decided by the dwarfs that the giants should lay aside their swords, clubs, and spears, and should become peaceable citizens. That they should thenceforth work for what they ate, and wore, and not seize it by plunder. That they should learn the useful arts of farming, housework, and stable-cleaning. In short that they should become like the kobolds themselves.

The giants served the dwarfs in these ways for a long time, but it was very distasteful work. They felt so ashamed and so degraded at serving these tiny creatures that they shunned all living beings as much as possible, and hid in the depths of the forest. They knew they were a laughing-stock to all men, and fairies, and water-spirits, and wood-nymphs. Kruge fared worst of all. All these people when they saw him would point at him, and say: “There goes the giant whose head was turned by a pigmy!” He would sit for hours, when he was not at work, holding his head, tearing his hair, and grinding his teeth with rage. It would have been a grievous thing to him to have been conquered by another giant, but to have been vanquished by a pigmy was too humiliating!

He finally proposed to the giants that they should all quit that country. This they did. Thus the king was happily rid of these wicked and troublesome subjects; and not a giant has been seen on the banks of the Rhine from that time to the present.

THE MIRAGE.

The small caravan slowly wound its way over the burning sands of the desert. Fifteen days of unbroken desert travel had greatly weakened the little band which had left the last oasis in such gay spirits.

The Syrian merchant, Ahmed, was the leader of this band, and with him was Calvert, a European, and several Arabs. On some of the camels Ahmed had merchandise that would bring high prices in Damascus. Calvert was traveling for pleasure.

By some unaccountable means the caravan had wandered from the regular route, and Ahmed had no idea where they were. The compass told them in what direction to go, but how were they ever to find any particular spot in this trackless waste? Eight days from the last oasis should have brought them to the next on the regular route. Now it was the fifteenth day. The twelfth day found their supply of water reduced so low that only a very small quantity could be given to each individual, Ahmed and Calvert, (to their praise be it told) taking no more than the others.

As for the camels they had nothing to drink, but they would not suffer for a long time, as they had an internal arrangement of water-sacks from which to refresh themselves.

And now, on the fifteenth day, there was not a drop of water. Ahmed would have given all his merchandise for a pint of the precious fluid. Death stared them in the face.

The caravan halted. One of the Arab attendants had fallen upon the sands. He was the first to succumb to the sufferings of thirst, increased by the burning heat of the desert. Most of the men dismounted, and gathered around him, but they could do little for him.

A loud shout from a couple of men on the camels caused the whole party to look up. The men pointed to the westward. Exclamations of delight burst from the lips of all; for there, not two miles away, lay an oasis, a palm grove in the midst of a clear lake, whose waters sparkled invitingly in the sunlight.

Even the sick Arab turned his dim eyes thither, and his feeble lips uttered a faint cry of joy. The sight so revived him that he was able, lying on a camel’s back, to go with the others to this oasis.

But, alas! the nearer they drew to the palm grove the more distant it appeared; and, at last, they lost sight of it altogether.

Then the travelers knew it to have been a _mirage_, and they looked at each other in despair. But Calvert encouraged them. A mirage, he said, was a picture of some object painted in the air by the refraction of the sun’s rays through a peculiar atmosphere. It was a deceptive appearance, but it was caused by a real thing. In order to produce the picture of an oasis in the sky the oasis itself must be _somewhere_. True, it might be at a long distance from them; but he thought it more probable that it was quite near. And he indicated in what direction it was likely they would find it.

Calvert spoke so earnestly that the courage of the party revived. They immediately started off again under his direction. And, after seven hours’ march, they did come upon a real oasis. Whether it was the one they had seen pictured in the air they did not know, but this was no matter. It was smaller than the picture, but images of things are often distorted.

The sick Arab recovered after a couple of days’ rest, and the caravan renewed its march, men and beasts strengthened and refreshed. They took with them a liberal supply of water.

At this oasis they also found guides, who conducted them into the regular caravan route; and they all arrived safely at Damascus.

CORAL.

Coral had been used many hundreds of years before men found out what it was. The savages used to fashion it into ornaments for their knife and axe handles; and, when men were more civilized, and had learned to work in iron, and to make armor, they liked to adorn their shields and helmets with coral. Women made of this beautiful red substance, necklaces for the neck, bracelets for the arms, and ornaments for the hair. But it is not likely that any of these savages or partially civilized people made any attempt to find out what kind of substance this coral was. They gathered it near the surface of the sea, and never stopped to think how it got there.

But when men became still more highly civilized they thought more deeply about things, and began to ask each other what caused day, and night; and heat, and cold; why the Moon grew from a little bright streak into the brilliant full orb, and a multitude of other questions. There was no one to answer these questions, and so the wisest men set to work to study it all out. They found out a great deal, but, of course they made a great many mistakes that had to be set right afterwards by other learned men.

Very early they made investigations into the nature of coral. For a long time they were sorely puzzled. In the first place they decided it was a mineral because it was so very hard, and took such a beautiful polish. But, after further examination the wise men all came to the conclusion that it was a plant.

It looked like a plant. There could be no doubt about that. The large specimens examined had trunks composed of layers or rings, very much like many trees. From this trunk were branches, covered with a rose-colored bark in which were some curious depressions.

Others made a still closer examination, and discovered that these depressions were really little star-shaped flowers, with several colored rays. This settled the question. Of course, if coral produced flowers it must be a plant; and, as a plant, it was spoken of, and written about for two thousand years.

“But,” it was asked, “how can a plant grow into a substance as hard as a stone? There is nothing else of such growth known in nature. It is impossible.”

The sailors and coral fishers answered this question by asserting that the coral was in a soft state under the water, like any other plant; but when it was exposed to the air it became petrified—that is, turned into stone. It would not have been a very difficult thing for the learned men to have investigated this matter, and tried for themselves whether it was soft and flexible under the water. But they never did, and so _that_ question was settled.

It was settled for twenty centuries. At the close of that long period of time a French physician, named Peyssonnel, while traveling along the Mediterranean coast, became much interested in the coral fisheries carried on there. He examined the coral flowers with great care, and found that they were not flowers at all, but animals! The ancients had been deceived by their flower-like form, for they were unlike flowers in every other respect, having no stamens, or pistils, or pollen, and producing no seed.

But the opinions of people were not to be overturned all at once by a country doctor. Was it reasonable to suppose he should know more about this matter than all the learned men who had ever lived, or who were living then? So everybody, but Peyssonnel himself, went on believing that coral was a plant, and bore flowers; that it grew in the sea like other marine plants; and that, when broken off, and brought to the surface, it suddenly hardened into stone.

Not long, however, did they continue in this belief. Nicolai, an Inspector of coral fisheries, thought it was about time that an investigation should be made deep down in the ocean to see whether the coral there was flexible, and soft. He sent down one of his best divers, and the man brought back word that the coral was just as hard in the sea, as in the air. This was such surprising news that Nicolai went down himself to make sure of the fact. There was no doubt about it. The coral in the ocean was as hard as a stone.

For hundreds of years wise men had been accepting the statements of ignorant fishermen without investigation.

Further research into the subject proved Peyssonnel to be right. The little star-like ornaments on the coral branches are animals. We show here a section of a coral branch as it looks under a magnifying glass, that you may understand how easy it would be for an ordinary observer to suppose the little stars to be blossoms. You can also see the different stages of development of the very singular little coral animal. B is the _ovule_, or egg, from which it comes, C the _larva_, or young creature before it undergoes its last change, and A is the full-grown animal.

Since then, the habits of these coral animals have been more carefully studied, and their ways are truly wonderful.

They are so small that it requires a magnifying glass to get a good view of them. They are in the form of tiny cylinders, at one end of which there is a mouth, surrounded by branching arms, called _tentacles_. These give them their flower-like form. With these _tentacles_ they convey their food to their mouths. The food consists of the smallest particles of dead fish, or other animal matter that may have escaped the jaws of the larger fish. But, although they feed in this manner and must therefore possess the senses of touch and taste, there is no indication that they can see, or hear, or that they are sensitive when handled. They cannot move about, but remain always in the place where they were born.

And yet this minute being, which belongs to the very lowest class of animals, not only makes the branching masses of coral that look like great stone forests under the water, but they also build immense walls, and piles of rocks, sometimes hundreds of miles in extent. The coral is made from a lime-like substance within the animal, which soon becomes very hard, and also from their lime-like bodies after they die.

Coral reefs are found only in the warm regions of the globe, for the little workmen cannot endure the cold of the northern ocean. They cannot live in the air, and so they never work above the surface of the water.

Of the branching coral there are three kinds; white, red, and pink. The white is the most porous and the least valuable, and the pink is the rarest, and most costly.

These animals are called polyps, or polypi. In some parts of the ocean there are islands that were formed by them. That is, the coral builders commenced the business by gradually piling up in the wave a mass of coral. This they began upon some sand bar far down in the ocean, and they kept at work until they got a rocky wall up to the surface of the water; and then they could go no farther. These walls are generally circular.

When the rocky coral walls reach the surface, the waves rush over them constantly, carrying with them sand, and broken fragments of corals. Some of these are left on the rocks, until, finally, they are piled up so high that the waves cannot roll over them. Thus is formed a singular-looking island, consisting of a circle of rock, with a pond of still water in the centre. This little lake is called a lagoon. Sand is strewn by the waves over the rocky reef, and rolled down into the lake, which it fills up, and, after a long time the soil becomes of sufficient depth to support coarse grasses, and sea plants. These die, and enrich the soil; and the winds, bringing from other shores the seeds of palm trees, and various plants, scatter them over the island, which is soon crowned with verdure and flowers.

THE GREAT EASTERN.

The Great Eastern is the largest steamship in the world; and is, indeed, the largest vessel of any kind in the world. You can see from the portion of the deck given in the picture that the whole ship must be of an enormous size.

The scene on the deck is a busy one, for the vessel is being prepared for a voyage; the workmen are putting on the finishing touches in the way of carpenter-work and painting; and the sailors are busy with the sails and rigging. Hundreds of people are employed with steam engines, hoisting cranes, and various machines, and yet there is plenty of room for them to do their work without confusion.

For the upper deck of this great steamer measures 680 feet from stem to stern, which is twice the length of the largest of other ocean steamers. The deck, in the widest part, is 82 feet wide. From this deck rise six great masts, and five smoke stacks.

Great care has been taken to make the vessel proof against very heavy seas. The hull is double, and is made of iron plates. Ten thousand tons of iron were used to build the hull, and it took no less than 3,000,000 rivets to fasten on the iron plates.

The Great Eastern carries a cargo of 28,500 tons; and can accommodate 10,000 passengers. So, if you went across the ocean in her, when she has her full complement of passengers, it is not at all likely that you would know all your fellow-voyagers. It would be very strange if you were even to see them all.

She is an English vessel, and has been to this country several times. She was visited by crowds of people while lying at the wharf in New York. She also went to Norfolk, and Baltimore. And, everywhere she was an object of curiosity and wonder. But the expense of sailing so monstrous a vessel is very great, and her owners have not always known exactly what to do with their ship. She was very useful in laying the Atlantic Telegraph Cable a few years ago. She was the only ship that could conveniently carry such a tremendous weight as this cable which was to cross the Atlantic Ocean, and connect two continents.

The vessel, as you see her in the picture, does not lie close to the wharf, and small steamers are employed to take the passengers out to the ship when she is ready to sail. These steamers seem like baby vessels when they are lying alongside the Great Eastern. Her great hull rises far above their chimneys. The “gangway” is a long flight of stairs; and it is quite a slow process to get all the people out of the small steamers, up the stairs, and on to the deck of the Great Eastern.

The great deck is pretty well filled during the embarkation. The passengers are all there; and their friends who have come to bid them good-bye; and there are piles of baggage of every description. But, after the small steamers have gone back to the shore with the visitors, the decks are cleared, and the baggage stowed away in the proper places for it; and everything is trim and orderly.

Every arrangement is made for the comfort of the passengers. There are two saloons, a large, and a small one. These are beautiful rooms lighted by sky-lights, and elegantly ornamented, and furnished. There are a great number of state-rooms; and three dining-rooms. In these last are long rows of tables.

But one of the advantages that the Great Eastern possesses is that she does not roll and pitch much, even in stormy weather, because she is so large and heavy. Consequently people are not so apt to be sea-sick on this ship, as on most of the ocean steamers.

The great saloon is a very pleasant place for promenading, conversation or reading, when it is too cold or stormy to be on deck. People meet here from all parts of the world, perhaps. They get acquainted and have long talks with each other, and have music, and get up games to help pass away the time. And, when the voyage is over, they separate, with no expectation of ever meeting again, unless some chance should make them fellow-travelers another time.

All the children on board are sure to make friends with each other; and they have plenty of room to play on the long decks, and in the saloons, without interfering with the comfort of older persons.

It would be a delightful thing to take a voyage on such a magnificent steamer as this. Apart from the pleasure that the ship itself, with all its great machinery and its splendid appointments would afford, there would be the satisfaction of knowing that there is some chance of escaping sea-sickness when on board of the Great Eastern.

And any one who ever has been sea-sick would be very apt to appreciate the advantages of a vessel that does not pitch and toss on every ordinary wave.

KANGAROOS.

In the continent of Australia where there are so many queer plants and animals, lives the numerous, and droll-looking family of the kangaroos.

There are several varieties of this family, but all have the same general characteristics; a very large tail, very long hind legs, and very short fore legs.

Kangaroos can out-jump the very best jumpers you ever saw, or heard of. They use their long hind legs something in the grasshopper style; and their tails are not only big, but strong, and are of great assistance to them in their leaps.

Their flesh is good to eat, and so they are hunted a great deal. Instead of running from their pursuers like the swift-footed hares and antelopes, they jump away from them, and in this manner they get over a great extent of country in a very short time. Running would be impossible to creatures with such ridiculously short front legs; but leaping answers the same purpose; and, as this is their natural mode of progression, they do not get tired any sooner than other animals do by running.

The kangaroos are by no means ugly animals; and, though they look awkward when standing on all fours (which they seldom do) they are very graceful while making their leaps.

One of the prettiest species of the kangaroo family is called the antelope kangaroo. Its head and ears are similar to those of the antelope in appearance.

Kangaroos are common enough in menageries, and the next time you visit such a place look for one. It seems a pity to shut them up in cages, where they have no room to take even the smallest jump. But, then, if they were not caged there is no knowing where they would jump to. Some of the old kangaroos are rough customers when brought to bay. A big fellow will sometimes seize a dog in his short fore legs and with one of his great hind feet give him a scrape that will make him wish he had never seen a kangaroo.

Just as you have seen a quiet peaceable boy when he had been worried and annoyed by a teasing and quarrelsome fellow, suddenly blaze up and astonish the young rascal by giving him a good thrashing.

THE STORY OF POLARGNO.

Polargno was an Esquimaux boy. At the time the things happened to him that I am going to relate to you he was sixteen years old, and as merry a fellow as you could find anywhere. Here is his portrait.

Perhaps you think him ugly, but our ideas of beauty depend a good deal upon what we are accustomed to see around us. You like a white skin, regular features, and fine, soft, wavy hair. But the negroes of Central Africa do not admire this style in the least. They prefer thick lips, flat noses, shining black skins, and hair as tightly twisted and as wiry as possible. And Polargno’s friends looked upon him as a boy of a remarkably fine appearance, for they considered it very proper that he should have a stubby nose, thick lips, small eyes, and lank, coarse hair. His parents thought him handsome, but his mother was grieved because he was not quite as fat as other Esquimaux boys of his age. To be very beautiful in the eyes of an Esquimaux one must be very fat. Polargno’s father was not much taller than his son, but he was very much broader. He consoled his wife, however, by assuring her that he was no larger than Polargno at the same age.

In this picture, Polargno is dressed in the suit he wears out of doors in the winter. It is a complete suit of seal-skin, with the fur outside. This is put on over the in-door suit, boots and all. This in-door suit is also of seal-skin, but it is made up with the fur turned inside. To make the costume complete, he should have on his head a fur hood. People have to dress warmly in the Esquimaux country where the ground is covered with snow three-fourths of the year.

Polargno’s father owned a winter and a summer residence; which sounds very grandly, to be sure, but he was no richer than the rest of the tribe. There was much similarity among the families of the settlement in regard to wealth. One family might possess a few more skins than the others, or softer beds, or an extra lamp; but, on the whole, one man was about as well off as his neighbors, and they visited each other in the most sociable manner, knowing nothing of rank and riches.

The winter residence of Loonerkoo, the father of Polargno, was constructed in the following manner: Blocks of snow two feet long, and six inches wide and several inches thick, were cut out from the great snow heaps that abounded everywhere. These were carefully pared with a large knife and made even and smooth. They were then built into a dome. A good many layers of blocks were used to make the walls very thick and solid. There were two windows in this dome, and what do you think they were made of? Each one was a single, inch thick square of transparent, fresh water ice. There was not the least danger of its melting from the heat of the house, the outside cold being too intense for that to happen.

There was no door to this house, but there was quite a large doorway. A hole was left in the wall. It was not more than three feet high, and everybody, except very little children crawled into it on their hands and knees. The passage way was no higher, and was about sixteen feet long, so that this crawling back and forth was somewhat wearing on the clothes, although the floor was of ice and snow instead of the rough ground. This entrance was made low and narrow, so as to shut out as much cold air as possible.

The next thing was to make a chimney. This was easy enough. They simply cut a hole in the roof of the dome of snow. This contrivance did not always work well, as the wind sometimes blew the smoke back into the room as fast as it came out of it, but the Esquimaux are used to smoke in their houses; and, supposing it to be one of the necessary evils of life, are quite content to have it when it cannot be helped.

Inside of this dome there was one large, circular room. In most Esquimaux houses this was reception-room, dining-room, bed-room, and kitchen, all in one. But a few very elegant dwellings, and, among them Loonerkoo’s, had curtains of skins hung up so as to make a couple of bed-rooms.

It may make you shiver when I tell you how they made their bedsteads. These were blocks of snow, making a platform a couple of feet high, and five and six feet long. On them whalebones and seal skins were laid for mattresses. The coverlets consisted of nice, warm furs.

Exactly in the middle of the large room a circular platform was made with blocks of snow. On this stood the lamp for cooking purposes, and over it was a wooden scaffolding on which the cooking utensils were hung.

The lamp was nothing but a dish, filled with whale oil and blubber, with a long wick of dry moss.

Around the walls the weapons and clothes of the family were hung.

This was all the furniture the house contained, and it was quite enough for these simple people. Warm clothing, plenty to eat, and comfortable places to sleep were all they required.

It is difficult for us to believe that these snow houses are comfortable, but they are very warm indeed; or, rather, I should say they are the warmest houses that could be made for the very severe climate of Greenland. The Esquimaux is hardened to the cold, and can bear it much better than we can. He wraps himself up in his furs, and lays down on his icy couch, and sleeps as peacefully and comfortably as we do on our soft mattresses.

It only required a few hours to build the winter house of Loonerkoo, and to put it into perfect order.

A still shorter time sufficed for constructing his summer residence, which was nothing more than a large tent, made of dressed skins.

The Arctic summer is short. It really lasts only about six weeks. For, after the worst of the wintry weather is over, it takes the sun a good while to melt the heavy masses of snow and ice, and to send them floating down the rivers and bays, and out into the ocean, where they finally disappear. This season is scarcely warm enough to call Spring; it is, more properly, the breaking up of Winter. It is a time when icebergs abound, and boating is a very dangerous amusement.

But, after the ground is freed from its icy envelope, everything starts into life, and grows with the most astonishing rapidity. A plant will spring up, grow two or three feet high perhaps, bud, blossom, and bear fruit in the time our plants of the temperate zone will be producing a foot or so of stalk and leaves. In a few days after the fir trees have dropped the last of their snow-wreaths their branches will be covered with delicate spears of fresh green. A field that a week or two before was white with snow will be carpeted with flowers. The reason of this growth, which seems magical, is that in the Arctic zone, after the sun once gets well up above the horizon, it stays up—it does not set again for a long time, but shines steadily on, day and night.

I use the words day and night in the sense we generally use them to mark the division of time into twenty-four hours. In our latitude this division of time also marks the periods of light and darkness, but it is not so in the Arctic countries. There, you know, the day is six months long, and the night six months. But the Esquimaux have their regular times for sleeping, for, of course, they can’t stay awake six months, or sleep six months; but they naturally spend more time in sleep in their dreary winter than during their beautiful summer.

It was on Polargno’s sixteenth birth-day that he had his adventure with the fox. It was mid-winter, and consequently midnight—that is the middle of the six months’ night—the seventh of January, I think, that his birth-day came around.

I don’t know that the Esquimaux are in the habit of remembering, or celebrating birth-days, but it was easy for Polargno’s parents to remember his birth-day, because he was the only child they had. His father, that morning, gave him a bright, new hatchet, that he had bought from the fur traders, and Polargno was so delighted with it that he started off as soon as he had his breakfast to use it in making a new trap, and to mend his old ones which were getting to be rather shaky.

The only persons he found astir in the village were two boys about his own age, and the three proceeded together to inspect their traps. They took no dogs with them, as they were of no use on such an expedition, and were apt to be troublesome.

At this season, trap-making and trap-baiting were about the only amusements that the boys had, for the cold was too severe for hunting. The men of the settlement had their traps too. These traps were made of different sizes and forms, and baited with several sorts of food, to attract all hungry animals, large and small, that might be prowling around. The Esquimaux had many ingenious ways of concealing the traps from the cautious creatures, and thus leading them suddenly to destruction. The fur of all the animals they captured in this way was valuable, and was bought up readily by the fur traders once a year. But some kinds these traders were very anxious to get, and paid for them what to the simple Esquimaux were enormous prices, though, in reality, they were almost nothing compared to the prices these traders got from the fur dealers.

Among the most valuable of these animals is the silver fox.

The boys first visited their traps near the village, but there was nothing in them; and they went on to the more distant ones, which were more likely to have tenants. They were in high spirits and walked briskly along the shore. It was quite light, although they had not had a glimpse of the sun for weeks, for the moon and stars shone brightly, and the reflection from the snow was brilliant.

Suddenly a red light flashed up from the horizon, and ran across the sky, quickly followed by other flashes of various colors. This circumstance did not alarm the boys, for it had happened often enough before, and they knew it to be the commencement of what we call an Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights. We see them sometimes in this part of the world, but ours are very feeble compared to those in the Arctic zone. This proved to be such a magnificent display that even these Esquimaux boys were touched with the sense of its beauty, and paused for awhile, and gazed upward with delight. White, red, yellow, green and blue lines crossed each other all over the sky in bewildering confusion. These would suddenly vanish, and great spears of flaming red would stand marshalled in rows. Then yellow and green banners waved across them, and extinguished them, and the whole air seemed filled with undulating waves of color. Finally, these took form, and hung, high up in the vault of heaven, a gorgeous canopy that seemed to be formed of crystal pendants, and jewelled columns, glittering with every conceivable shade and color. Every peak and crag was touched with light. Even the little stones on the beach gleamed like gems.

The boys could not have described the scene to give you any idea of it, as I have tried to do, but they enjoyed it. It never occurred to them to ask what it was, or where it came from. They accepted it as they did their six months’ day and night, and great snows, and volcanoes, and all the other forms of Nature. If they thought about it at all, they probably supposed that all the world was just like Greenland.

After a little while they grew tired of the Aurora, and turned their attention once more to the traps. Polargno’s were on a point of land, shielded somewhat by a large rock. He had no less than four, and he usually found them all empty. As the boys silently approached this rock they caught sight of an animal, which was circling about the outside of one of the traps. All saw it at the same instant, and all knew it to be one of the most valuable of their Arctic animals. Their seal-skin boots had made no noise on the smooth ice, and the animal was not aware of their approach. They were not on his windward side, and therefore he was not likely to detect them by scent. The boys stood still behind the rock, and cautiously peered around it, watching every movement of the creature. They were afraid to draw a long breath lest he should hear them.

Polargno’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Here was a prize indeed! This was a fine Arctic fox, and he had never caught so valuable an animal! It was seldom that anybody did, for the Arctic fox is quite as wise and cautious as his brethren of warmer climes. He imagined himself returning to the village with this trophy, and thought with pride of the excitement he would cause, and how the people would gather around him, and congratulate him, and how the fur traders would praise him. And then he began to think what fine things he would get from them in exchange for the skin.

But still he was anxious; for, all this time, the animal was on the wrong side of the trap. If he did not go _inside_ of it, farewell to Polargno’s visions, for the boys had no guns, and they would not have done much with them, if they had had them, for they were not skilful in the use of firearms. The animal was evidently suspicious of the fir boughs thrown so carelessly down, and lightly covered with snow; but he was also very hungry, and eager for the food under this arrangement. His hunger proved too great for his prudence, and, after investigating the trap on all sides, and thinking over the matter for a time that seemed very long to the watching boys, he cautiously placed one foot over the spot where the bait lay. This was enough. Click went a wooden spring, concealed among the branches, and down went the fox through a wooden trap underneath, that snapped together again, and shut him in.

“Hi,” cried Polargno, as he rushed out from behind the rock, followed by both boys. But he was in too great a hurry. He stumbled over a stone. His feet went up into the air, and his back and head went crashing down into the trap, sending fir boughs and splints of wood flying in all directions.

The fox snapped at him, but, fortunately missed his face; and having snipped a little piece out of the boy’s ear, evidently came to the conclusion that running away was better than revenge. He therefore ran over Polargno’s prostrate body, and up his elevated legs, and, making a tremendous spring from the quivering feet, he darted away at his utmost speed.

The boys left Polargno to get out of his trap as best he could, and immediately gave chase to the fox. But they knew it was useless. They might as well try to catch the wind. If they had brought the dogs the fox would probably have had the worst of it. But, as it was, he escaped—hungry, but safe.

This was Polargno’s adventure with the fox.

The next summer, Polargno had a very surprising adventure with a seal. He was in a cave alone on the bay. He had paddled out a short distance from the shore because he had nothing else to do just then. He paddled up and down until he got tired, and then he rested on his oars, and looked about him. The scene was very different from what it had been when he and the fox had caught each other. Now the bay was entirely free from ice, and the waves leaped and danced as if rejoicing to be free once more. There was not a cloud in the sky, where the sun shone brightly far above the horizon in the same place, apparently, that it had been for several days and nights. Flowers bloomed in the grassy fields, birds perched upon the rocks, and the noise of insects could be faintly heard.

But a Greenlander is never free from the sight of snow; and, even now, in mid-summer, every high mountain peak had its white cap; and on the tallest mountains the snow extended far down the sides.

Polargno took pleasure in the summer warmth and life, but I do not suppose he thought much about the objects he saw around him. His mind was busy with the prospect of the good time he would have when two whaling ships that were cruising some miles below in the bay, should come up as high as their settlement. There was a report, too, that a large school of whales was making its way northward.

Thinking of these things while he idly looked about him, he suddenly felt that he was being lifted into the air. Before he could recover from his surprise at this rapid elevation he found that his canoe was being borne swiftly over the surface of the water. Instinctively he tightened his hold upon the paddle that he might not lose it, and this action caused one end of it to strike an animal under the boat, which immediately flapped itself free, and rolled off to a little distance, where it remained, as motionless as a log, evidently waiting to see what would happen next.

The thing that came near happening was the upsetting of Polargno’s canoe, for the blow it received from the flap of the creature’s tail sent it spinning around like a top. Polargno would not have been much alarmed if it had upset, for he could swim like a fish; but still he was very glad it remained right side up.