Part 8

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.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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