Chapter IV

Seekpeace turned to see who had spoken, and beheld a beautiful little fairy, whose face was so full of loveliness that he wanted to make her his friend at once.

“Who are you, beautiful fairy?” asked Seekpeace.

“My name is Pureheart,” replied the fairy. “Goldenhand has done a great deal of good in his time, but he often leads young men away from their duty, and makes them very unhappy.”

“Don’t mind her,” said Goldenhand. “She is very pretty, but she can give you no fine houses, no rich food, no soft beds, no willing servants.”

“I can give you what is better than all these; I can give you a conscience void of offence before God and man.”

“Don’t stop to hear her prate; but come with me, and I will show you the Palace of Luxury, in which you may live and be happy, if you will only serve me faithfully, and not bother your head with Pureheart’s nonsense,” said Goldenhand.

“Be wise, Seekpeace, and do not take a step which you will regret when it is too late to repent,” urged Pureheart.

Then Seekpeace was sorely perplexed. Goldenhand promised him ever so many fine things; and Pureheart, beautiful as she was, said nothing about great houses, soft clothing, and downy beds.

After thinking a long time, he told the giant he would go with him and see the Palace of Luxury. Then he saw the tears in the eyes of Pureheart, as she turned to leave him.

Goldenhand took his arm, and presently they reached the Palace of Luxury. The doors were thrown wide open to them, and the giant pointed out the splendid carpets, the rich furniture, the soft beds, the tables loaded with all the good things of every clime, the spicy gardens, and every thing that could please the senses.

“Now will you come with me?” asked Goldenhand.

“What am I to do?”

“You see that cottage yonder. In it lives a widow, with three small children. She has a hundred pieces of gold in the house. Go and take it from her. You shall have it all for your own.”

“What! rob the widow and the orphans of their daily bread? I cannot do that,” replied Seekpeace, with evident horror.

“You are a silly young man. Why, others do just such things, and why should not you?” said Goldenhand, with a sneer.

“Others may do it, but I cannot.”

“Then you and I cannot be friends,” added the giant, angrily; and he disappeared, leaving Seekpeace standing at the door of the Palace of Luxury.

While the young pilgrim was wondering what had become of the giant, he perceived that Pureheart was again standing by his side.

“You have done well, Seekpeace,” said the fairy, with a sweet smile on her beautiful face. “But I see you still cast longing looks at the Palace of Luxury. Let us enter, and examine some of the fine things you saw there.”

Pureheart led the way into the palace, and the young man again admired the splendors of the interior, and wished he might possess them.

“What a rich carpet!” exclaimed he.

“It is very pretty, but let us examine it a little more closely.”

Then Pureheart tore up the rich carpet, and Seekpeace saw that beneath it there were a great many little sharp points; and the fairy told him that by and by the carpet would wear down, and the sharp points would prick the feet of him who owned the palace, if he got into it by robbing the widow and the orphan.

Pureheart then led him into a chamber, and showed him that beneath the downy bed there were sharp spikes, which would pierce the flesh of him who slept on the couch, if he entered the palace by such means as the giant had recommended.

In the dishes of rich food the fairy pointed out little grains of poison, as well as at the bottom of the wine cups. The fine clothes in the wardrobe were found to be filled with nettles. In the splendid apartments of the palace, hid beneath the fine furniture, they found some hideous serpents, which no one could wish to have in the house with him.

“I am sure I don’t want to live in such a place as this,” said Seekpeace.

“I thought you would not, if you only understood its nature.”

“But can’t I have all these fine things without being wicked?” asked Seekpeace.

“Perhaps you may. I don’t know. I only wanted to teach you that all these fine things are not happiness: Remember what your father and mother told you; be true to God and true to yourself, and you will be happy, whether you live in a palace or a cottage.”

“You are very beautiful,” said Seekpeace, as he gazed at the shining face of the fairy. “I wish you would go with me on my journey.”

“I will go with you if you wish me to do so; but I am jealous; and when you forget or neglect me, and love Goldenhand better than you love me, I shall leave you.”

“You shall be my friend to the end of my journey,” said Seekpeace, as he embraced the fairy. “And if Goldenhand won’t help me without my lying, and cheating, and stealing, why, then I will be like the old man in the coarse garb, whom I met this morning. He was no friend of Goldenhand, I suspect.”

“He was not. The giant tempted him as he has tempted you; but the old man loved me best.”

“I will love you with all my soul as long as I live; and when I meet the old man in the Valley of Shadows, I hope we shall be happy.”

“You will be, forever and forever,” said the fairy, with a radiant smile.

And Seekpeace most faithfully kept his promise, and was happy to the end of his journey.’

* * * * *

“Now, how do you like my story, children?” asked Mr. Lee.

“Very much, father,” replied Flora. “I think I know what it means too. Goldenhand wasn’t a real giant, like those in Jack and the Beanstalk.”

“You are right, my child. What do you think of Pureheart?”

“She was a very nice fairy.”

“What do you think of her, Mary? Did you like her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I hope you will love her as Seekpeace did. But, Mary, you did not say ‘no’ to the giant when he asked you to take the thimble, as Goldenhand asked Seekpeace to take the widow’s gold. If you had said ‘no,’ Pureheart would at once have come to help you resist temptation, and make you happy.”

“I never will do so again,” exclaimed Mary, bursting into tears.

“I hope you never will,” added Mr. Lee. “The giant often tempts boys and girls to take what does not belong to them. Resist him, as Seekpeace did, and Pureheart will be your friend to the end of your journey.”

Mr. Lee did not tell the children that he had found the gold thimble in Mary’s basket; but he hoped that his story would do her good. And I hope my little readers will understand and profit by it.

WHIP-POOR-WILL.

A SAD STORY OF A NAUGHTY BOY.

There was a little fellow,
And his name was Willie Brown;
His mother was a widow,
In a little country town.
One day he was so naughty
That his mother told him not
To leave the house a moment
Till a whipping he had got.

If you wish to know how naughty
This Willie Brown had been,
Let me tell you that the wash tub
He had thrown poor kitty in;
And the pretty little creature—
Old pussy’s joy and pride—
Had struggled in the soap-suds
Till in agony she died.

Don’t you think ’twas very wicked
For Willie, in his wrath,
To give the darling kitty
Such a soap and water bath?
Don’t you think he needed something
To teach him better—that
Soap-suds was not the element
To drown a pussy-cat?

Willie did not want a whipping,
And the stick he dreaded so,
That he minded not his mother,
Who had told him not to go;
But in terror and in silence
He departed from the house,
Creeping out the door on tiptoe,
Like a thieving little mouse.

Behind his mother’s cottage
Was the forest deep and wide;
And the naughty boy kept running
Till he reached its gloomy side;
Then he took the beaten pathway,
Which the cows and sheep had made,
And hour after hour there
Within the forest staid.

Willie wandered in the forest
Till the sun went down at last,
And the darkness, deep and dreary,
Gloomy shadows round him cast;
Far more than any whipping
Did he fear the long dark night;
So his steps he home directed,
Guided by the cottage light.

But a little way he travelled
When a scream from overhead
Almost froze his blood with terror
As he homeward swiftly fled.
And the cry above him sounded,
“Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!”
And again it was repeated,
“Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!”

“Don’t whip me; O, don’t whip me!”
Cried the trembling little lad;
“And I’ll never drown a kitty,
And I never will be bad.”
But the voice above kept screaming,
“Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!”
Though poor Willie begged for mercy,
It kept crying, “Whip-poor-will!”

“Don’t let them whip me, mother!”
Cried poor trembling Willie Brown,
As he rushed into the cottage,
Where poor kitty he did drown.

“The monsters in the forest
Want to whip me, mother, still;
And they chased me, ever crying,
‘Whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!’”

“You are foolish, boy, as naughty;
It was nothing but a bird;
Of the whip-poor-will that says so,
Pray, have you never heard?
It was your conscience, Willie,
Made you feel so very bad,
For you did not mind your mother,
And you are a wicked lad.

“And boys who are so naughty,
Must always cowards be,
Who sometimes in their shadows
Can such awful monsters see.
But since you were so wicked
As the kitty dear to kill,
And the bird did only scare you,
Why, then, I must whip poor Will!”