Part 1

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A WINTER NOSEGAY.

Being Tales for Children at Christmastide.

LONDON: W. SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & ALLEN, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 1881.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WOODFALL & KINDER, MILFORD LANE, STRAND, W.C.

CONTENTS.

THE MAN IN THE MOON, AND HOW HE GOT THERE 1

CAT AND DOG STORIES 13

A FORTUNE IN AN EMPTY WALLET 45

The Man in the Moon.

THE MAN IN THE MOON.

ONCE upon a time, long before people were able to learn what they wanted to know from printed books, long before children had pretty pictures to tell them tales, there lived an old student with his pupil. Together they spent all the day in poring over musty old books and papers, trying to find out why the sun was hot; and in the night-time they might always be seen gazing at the sky, counting how many stars there were there. They were very curious folk, and wanted to know the reasons for all sorts of out-of-the-way things that everybody else was content to know the mere facts of, such as why birds have two wings and not three, why crocodiles have no fins, seeing that they can swim in the water, and many other matters that would not interest sensible beings. They always had at their side a young owl, and a serpent, toothless and blind with age; for they thought that youthful observation and aged craftiness were most suitable companions for them in their labours. If at any time old Fusticus, for so the old student was named, got dispirited in his work, or felt inclined to give it up as a hopeless task, he had but to turn round in his chair, and there behind him sat his owl, who seemed to say, as he cocked his head on one side, "Never despair, success only comes after long perseverance!" Or if he stuck fast at any point, and could make no progress, one glance at the old serpent made him think, "Snakes wait whole days and nights on watch for their prey; why should I give in?" And, strange to say, with a little more attention and care, he always did get over his smaller difficulties.

But at last old Fusticus got weary of his long studies, as he seemed never to find an answer to any one of the questions he had set himself; and he was about to give them up altogether, when he came across a curious passage in the old tome in which he was reading. For a long time he could not make it out at all, but after deep thought and consultation with his pupil, he discovered that it was a spell, by which he could call up the Spirit of Darkness, whom he could compel to grant him any three wishes that he might demand. The only condition was that he should give to the Spirit of Darkness whatever he should ask of him.

Old Fusticus thought and thought a long time over this discovery, and at last decided to make use of it. So one day he repeated the charm he had learnt from the book, and when he had finished the last word, to his amazement, for he did not quite believe it was all true, there stood before him the Spirit of Darkness! He was not at all like what he had imagined he would have been; for he had not a hideous face, nor a tail, but was dressed in the costume of a court gentleman, with a sword at his side and a cocked hat in his hand. He had, too, a pigtail, ruffles and all complete!

"Sire," he said to Fusticus, "what is your will? You have summoned me to you by a power not your own--you know the condition on which you use that power. What is your wish?"

"My wish you shall soon learn, or rather my three wishes. But what is it that you demand in return?"

"All that I ask is now--nothing! All that I want is your first-born babe!"

"I have no child--I am an old man without a wife. If I had a child, you should have him." Fusticus did not think what he was saying, you see; but he felt quite safe in offering a thing that did not exist.

"'Tis a bargain!" cried the wicked Spirit at once and with glee. "Here is a written compact! Sign!" and Fusticus with a laugh put his name to the paper, for he thought: "Ah, my fine fellow! you have over-reached yourself this time! In trying to get too much, you have got nothing at all!" and he laughed again.

"Your wishes?" asked the Spirit of Darkness, putting the signed document into his coat-tail pocket.

"Well!" said Fusticus, "first of all I will have---- dear me! what shall I have? Now I come to think of it, I don't know that I want anything at all! Let me see, I have clothes, a house, my owl and my old serpent, I have a pupil, my books, my--oh! I know! I have not got a horse to ride upon! But to wish for only a horse! Spirit, let me have a _Cock_ large enough for me to ride upon!"

And forthwith there appeared a monstrous cock, so large that Fusticus could easily sit upon its back. And this he at once did. "Shan't I look grand now!" thought Fusticus, "as I ride through the village. All eyes will be upon me!" Just at that moment the cock gave a loud crow, and began to strut onwards, and away they went to the village. And as the last sound of the cock's crow died away, the Spirit of Darkness vanished.

The cock made his way straight to the village, and through the chief street. Everybody turned to look at Fusticus and his remarkable mode of travelling, but his friends did not, as he had expected, seem very much struck with its grandeur. "Poor old Fusticus has gone quite mad," they said to each other; "that comes of too much reading!" and they would not return the polite bows that Fusticus showered upon them. And so silly old Fusticus soon came to repent his first wish. "Oh! that I had not been so foolish!" cried Fusticus, and as soon as he got out of the village, he dismounted from his cock, and again called upon the Spirit of Darkness.

"And so you already want something more? You mortals are never contented," said the latter. "Everybody laughs at my steed," answered Fusticus; "I cannot ride through the streets without looking absurd! Give me a golden carriage, drawn by four real horses this time, with as many servants as attend a duke;" and the next moment up drove the most magnificent carriage he had ever beheld, with four prancing white horses, and a footman and two postilions. Behind it rode two lords, to guard it. "Now I shall indeed be happy! Now my friends can no longer laugh!" thought Fusticus, and the very next day he took his first drive.

When his friends saw that Fusticus had come into such luck, and had such a grand carriage of his own, they all thought "Dear me! some rich relation of Fusticus must have died, and left him all this. I hope he did not see me laugh when he passed me yesterday on that curious cock of his!" But Fusticus was too pleased to be unfriendly with anybody, when he saw what marked attention his grand equipage brought him. He sat smiling inside his carriage and had a kind word for all, even for the poor old woman he saw the rough villagers jeering at and abusing. He even called to them to stop breaking the pitchers and pots that she was trying to sell in the market-place, the only grudge that they had against her being that she had a rather more hooked nose than their own!

Fusticus now lived for some time quite happy. Everybody thought a great deal of him, because of his fine carriage, in which he used to take daily drives. All the young unmarried ladies of the village tormented him that he was still a bachelor, saying that his carriage must have been made for two, as there were two seats in it. And this seemed such a forcible argument to Fusticus, that he soon took one of the ladies as a wife. In course of time a little baby was born to them. Scarcely was the child a week old, when one morning, just as Fusticus was nursing his little pet, in through the window sprang the Spirit of Darkness! Drawing the written compact from his pocket, he said, "In accordance with this, give me up your child, your first-born! But you have one wish still left. What may it be?" Fusticus was struck dumb; he could not recover himself for a long time, for in his happiness he had quite forgotten his promise, quite forgotten his third wish, and all about the Spirit of Darkness!

"I cannot yield my child, my young and innocent darling!" he cried. "Anything else you may take--my life, my carriage, anything, but leave me my child!"

"The child! the child! and nothing else!" shrieked the demon, and then, regaining himself, with a smile added: "And your last wish?"

"If I lose my boy," answered Fusticus, "my joy on this earth is for ever gone. If you take my child, then, oh Spirit of Darkness and Deceit! then, may I for all eternity pass my life in the Moon!" "Granted too is your third----" "But I have not finished yet," broke in Fusticus, "and may my child for ever remain with me there!"

And there you may see them both to this day, but the child was changed into a spider. And every now and then the good little spider lets himself down by his thread to the earth and takes his father back all the news of the day.

But if you, Reader, had three wishes granted to you, I hope you would choose them better and more wisely than did old Fusticus!

Cat and Dog Stories.

CAT AND DOG STORIES.

IT was a rainy November afternoon, and floods of water poured down from the skies, growing hourly in strength. "Just as if the heaven were weeping to find that its tears grew so plentiful," I thought. I know that it is sometimes the case with me. When I am naughty and am scolded, I begin to cry just a little; but my tears flow quicker and quicker as I think how shameful it is for a great girl like me to be weeping, and the more ashamed I become, the more I cry. But I must not go on like this, or my story will turn out a tearful one, and I shall really end by weeping myself.

Well, it was a rainy day, raining so hard that I could not go out on the lawn to play; and I was tired of amusing myself with my soft ball indoors. I was sitting with my head resting between my hands, trying to think of some new game, when suddenly the door swung open, and in walked a crooked old woman, trudging towards me on her crooked staff.

"Why are you so unhappy, my dear?" she asked me in a kind, though croaking, voice.

"I don't know how to pass the time, ma'am," I said, rather frightened.

"Little girls, aye, and big girls too, should always have something to do; they should never idle away their hours. I am your fairy godmother, Nelly; look at my face."

And I looked up at her. Sure enough, she did look like my godmother, only a little more ugly and a good deal more kind!

"As you have been a good girl this morning, and finished your knitting and sewing, I am going to give you something that will amuse you. I am going to gift you with the knowledge of animal language. Look at your cat and dog on the hearth! They are telling each other stories. Would you like to listen to what they are saying?"

"Oh, _that_ I should!" I exclaimed.

She touched me on the lips with her crooked staff, and suddenly I heard two little voices gossiping round the fire. I glanced round at my fairy godmother, but she had vanished. I had not time to think how wonderful it all was--I was too much taken up with what I heard. There sat my precious Miss Perkie, with King Charlie at her side, so interested that his little pink tongue had pushed its way out through his teeth.

I drew my chair nearer to the hearth, so that I might hear their conversation the better. But Charlie turned round upon me rather angrily, and said:

"If you want to listen, Nelly, don't make such a noise with your stool. It disturbs me, and it is really provoking to lose the thread of an adventure in that way. Pray begin the story again, Perkie."

He always was rather a sharp-tempered dog, so I did not answer him. Yet the rude way in which he addressed me struck me as rather funny. I remember thinking that, perhaps, if all the world spoke dog-language, dogs would be the masters, and we human beings the slaves.

Perkie then continued:

"As I was saying----"

"No, she has put the first part out of my head, now! If I am once stopped in a story all the first part vanishes. I never was very quick at learning and all that, you know. People think that petting and cuddling are quite enough for a dog of my royal pedigree! They never consider my mind. It is true I can beg, and play at hide-and-seek with a biscuit: I can eat game, and drink real turtle-soup. And they pay great respect to my dignity and kingly grace; but as for my mental--however, never mind that, Pussy; it's not to the point! Go on with your story from the beginning, and Nelly and I will listen."

"I was going to tell Charlie of an adventure that I once had with some horrid, mongrel dogs," said Pussy. "I hate dogs, and so does my whole race, and mongrels more than any others. Now a noble mastiff or a royal King Charles" (and here Miss Perkie bowed graciously to her companion, though I fancied I could see a faint little smile curl round her lower jaw as she glanced up at me, as if to say to me that she only put up with him for my sake), "neither of _them_ would worry a harmless cat, for they are real gentlemen, who honour weakness and timidity" (another little nod). "But to go on with my story--

'I was out in the yard one day to see if I could not pick up a stray mouseling or so, when I suddenly came upon three brutal-looking dogs, asleep and snoring near a basket.

"I turned to flee, as quickly as I could; but the middle dog must have heard the little cry of fright that escaped me. He leaped up, gave a loud bark that awoke his two friends, and all three set after me.

"A tall wall surrounded the yard, and foolishly I had not made for the gate through which I had come in. What was I to do? 'They will have me,' I thought, 'they must have me sooner or later!' My terror was too great for me to describe.

"Round and round the yard they chased me--round and round again! I could not see the opening of the gate for a long time, so quickly did I tear along.

"Mongrel curs are clever, though I don't know why they should be. They had sense enough--bad sense I then thought it; but now I laugh at the adventure, as it is happily over, and as I paid the dogs back in their own coin--well, they had sense enough to separate and drive me into a corner. 'Now, surely, it is all over with me!' I said to myself; but I managed to keep them off for a long while by setting up my back and spitting at them. They dared not draw nigh, they dared not touch me, for they knew my claws were all ready stretched out to scratch their eyes out.

"How long we stood thus I cannot say. My nerves were so tight-strung that I was scarcely myself at all."

"Well, and what did you do?" asked King Charlie, his big eyes almost starting from his head, and his tongue far protruded from his mouth. "Do go on! You keep one so long in suspense! Did they kill you or not?"

I could not help laughing at his silly question; but Charlie seemed mightily offended at my conduct, so I smothered my merriment as best I could.

"Shall I go on?" asked Pussy; to which we both eagerly replied, "Yes, yes, _please_, Pussy."

She continued: "I was in this awkward position, hissing, spitting, back up, claws shot out, when an idea struck me. The dogs were close together in a body, and it was not much of a jump for me--I sprang forward, right over their heads, and rushed away towards the gate which stood straight before me. I reached it in safety, and looked around.

"There were the three dogs, barking loudly, close behind me! 'Now for my idea!' thought I, 'now or never! Victory or death!'

"The door was only half open, and that favoured my plans. If that had not been the case----"

"Do keep to the story!" again interrupted the eager King Charles; "you are always moralizing."

"If that had not been the case, I should have been lost," continued Pussy, quite calmly, and not regarding His Highness. "Well, I jumped violently against the half-closed gate, and slammed it to with a loud bang. It just caught the first dog's toe, and I knew what had happened by the yelping and howling of the wretched cur. Ah! the tables were turned now! And, in triumph, I laid my side close up against the door, and purred as loudly as I could, until my throat ached. The dog howled still louder than before on the other side, his two brother sinners barking all the time in disappointed fury.

"A funny concert it must have been! All the animals flocked out from the farmyard close by, to see what was the matter. The turkey joined in, screeching at her loudest. The little pig grunted and squeaked, and _I_ lay against the door, purring louder than ever.

"Then the donkey came up, and looked on. He was a bit of a philosopher, and looked grave and unconcerned. Or it may have been that the clover he had in his mouth was too precious to gobble down or to drop. In fact, his attention did seem to be divided; for one ear appeared to be listening to the concert, the other to the music of his own crunching. Poor old Neddy! he thinks himself so wise and such a philosopher in human and animal things! And all the time he is such a stupid! Even _I_ stopped purring for a moment to laugh at him.

"The kid in the neighbouring field pranced for very joy at the music. He had never had an accompaniment before; and he frisked about here, there, and everywhere, inviting even the frog beneath his feet to join him in the dance. Unequal playmates, you will say; and so thought the frog; but the kid was delighted nevertheless, though he soon forsook his partner, and went careering on.

"Out from her hutch the rabbit poked her head, with a sprig of forget-me-not in her mouth. Her ears were pricked up, and she listened. 'What can it all mean?' she asked her little ones.

"I looked towards the duck-pond. 'What lovely music!' cried one duckling to his comrade.

"'Hideous, you mean!' cried the other, and then they fought and quarrelled till scarcely a feather was left between them. This is the way with quick-tempered little ducklings: they fight for a worm, and are good friends again as soon as either of them has eaten it up. Sulky little boys and girls have a lesson to learn from them in this, so that even a duckling is a teacher at times, if we can only read our lesson aright.

"The noise the dogs were making reached even the end of the field, where a blackbird was busily engaged with an obstinate worm, who preferred his hole to the open air. And the terrified bird forsook half his dinner, in his anxiety to get away.

"My adventure, you see," continued Pussy, "at any rate created a noise in the neighbourhood! At length the dogs' master came out with a whip in his hand. He walked up to them, and must have laid about him pretty freely, for their howling increased to something indescribable. Then suddenly they stopped, and I heard the dog-whip flung fiercely at the crouching curs. And then their master went away, as I could tell by his retreating steps.

"I was full of curiosity to see how they looked in their humbled frame of mind. So I with great difficulty scrambled up the wall. I looked over, and nearly _tumbled_ over too, for I could hardly keep my balance, so great was my inward rejoicing at their discomfiture.

"'So you are paid out, you three cruel, mischief-makers!' I cried, and leaped down again from the wall.

"They howled back their reply, which I did not wait to hear--and that is the end of my story," said Pussy.

"Thank you, Pussy dear!" I said. And King Charlie danced frantically round the room to show his delight at the way the adventure had ended.

"I hate low under-bred curs, and I am always glad to see them punished," he cried, again assuming his kingly look. He was a despot in spirit, and really thought himself King of the dogs. Poor, harmless, vain little Charlie, I loved him all the same!

"Now it is your turn to tell _me_ a story," said Miss Perkie to him. "I will tell you something more of these three dogs afterwards."

"Very well," began King Charles, "very well; a tale you shall have, but a short one. My tail is not long, and my tales are not long," and he looked towards Pussy; then at me; but neither of us smiled: he was only a dog of small intellect, so I forgave him.

"Your story was of dogs," he went on; "mine shall be of cats. You hate dogs--I hate cats; therefore we like each other."

Pussy did not quite follow the reasoning, as I could see from her puzzled face; but since the end was true, and the argument sounded well, she thought it must be all right.

"My story is of a cat of your tribe, Perkie," he continued; "of a Maltese kitten. They are all great play-babies, you know, and I suppose you owe your earnestness of character to me. But that is not to the point! The kitten I am speaking of was called _Pussy_. That seems to be a common name in your family, Pussy; and it is a most extraordinary thing that all the cats and kittens I have ever known have had that name, and it is yours too, Perkie, isn't it? However, it is a very pretty name, so I won't say anything more about it. It is not to the point either! To proceed: this Pussy was a _very_ great play-baby. A soft ball was her joy, her comfort; a saucer of milk, her greatest delight. How you cats can live on milk, I cannot understand. It's very nice in its way, but it goes such a _little_ way, though _that_ is not much to the point again! Well, this cat's mother was a thief--all cats are thieves--she used regularly, when she had a chance, to go to the jar of milk that was kept for me and for the family, and lap up as much as she could reach with her tongue.

"Of course I hated her for this alone; but another vile practice she had increased my dislike for her. She would, every morning after the piano was dusted, jump upon the music-stool, and thence bound on to the keyboard. She would then walk about on it backwards and forwards, making the most abominable sounds--screeching notes, buzzing notes, groaning notes; groaning notes, buzzing notes, screeching notes, worse than the railway train. I could not stay in the same room with her, and used rather to go out and sit in the cold attic.

"I never actually fought her, for I always pitied her weakness, and her claws were very long and sharp. Her daughter was just as annoying in other ways, though I must confess that her ball-games were rather pretty. But still I do not agree with frivolity being turned into a science, and her games were almost scientific in grace and action. I will try to describe to you her morning occupation.

"First of all, of course, was the mewing scene--'Mieaou--mieaou--mieaou!' 'What is it my little sweetie wants, then?' the lady of the house would ask; 'does it want its pretty little ball?' And then she would throw the miserable soft ball to her.

"I sat by and looked on, half scornful, half amused, half---- I forget what the other half was!"

"Half asleep?" suggested Pussy.