Part 4

“The Prince was entranced. He gazed at the beautiful picture long and lovingly, and the crow sat on the rim of the basin and chuckled as proudly as if it had painted the picture. The girl was the loveliest the Prince had ever seen, and the cow was surely the most beautiful of her kind. The Prince’s attendants uttered exclamations of delight when they saw the picture, and his ministers, when they were sent for, were struck dumb with astonishment.

“‘If this bird could only speak!’ cried the Prince.

“But the crow went chuckling about the room saying to itself, ‘What a fool a Prince must be who cannot understand my simple language!’

“The Prince gazed at the picture framed by the gold ring for a long time. At last he concluded to take it from the water. As he did so it shrunk to its natural size, and the picture of the beautiful girl and the Cow with the Golden Horns disappeared, and the ring no longer burnt his fingers. He dropped it in the basin once more, but it remained a simple gold ring and the picture failed to appear again.

“The Prince was disconsolate. He remained in the palace and refused to go out. He moped and pined, until the family doctor was called in. The doctor fussed about and felt of the Prince’s pulse and looked at his tongue, and said that a change of air was necessary; but the Prince said he didn’t want any change of air and wouldn’t have it. In fact, he said he didn’t want any air at all, and he wouldn’t take any pills or powders, and he wouldn’t drink any sage tea, and he wouldn’t have any mustard plaster put on him. He was in love, and he knew that the more medicine he took, the worse off he would be.”

“Well, a little sage tea ain’t bad when you are in love,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “It’s mighty soothing.”

“Maybe,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “but the Prince didn’t want it, and wouldn’t have it. He wanted the beautiful girl he had seen in the picture. He was in love with her, and he wanted to marry her. So his ministers consulted together and finally they sent around a bailiff”—

“Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Meadows.

“Tut—tut!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit.

“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “he sent a crier around”—

“A herald, you mean,” suggested Buster John, who had read a good many story books.

“A bailiff could do the work just as well, but you can have it your way. Well,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “the Prince’s ministers sent a herald around to inquire at all the people’s houses if any of them had a Cow with Golden Horns, but nobody had such a cow, and everybody wondered what the herald meant. A Cow with Golden Horns! People went about asking one another if they had ever heard of such a thing before. Some said the throne was tottering. Others said the politicians were trying to work a scheme to increase taxation. Still others talked about the peril of the nation. Everybody had some explanation, but nobody had the right one. The poor young Prince was nearly crazy to find the young girl whose picture he had seen in the basin of water.

“For a few days the people heard no more of the matter, but at the end of a week the herald went round the city again declaring that the Prince would marry any young lady who would bring as her marriage portion a Cow with Golden Horns. She need not have riches of any kind; all that was necessary was a Cow with Golden Horns. This word went around among the people and from city to city. Rich men with daughters tried everywhere to buy a Cow with Golden Horns, but all to no purpose.

“The Prince waited and waited and pined and grew thinner. But just as matters were getting to be very serious indeed, an old man appeared in the palace park leading a beautiful white cow with jet black ears and golden horns. The servants set up such a shout when they saw the beautiful cow that everybody in the palace was aroused and all came out to see what caused the noise. Then the servants and attendants ran over one another in their efforts to reach the Prince, who was moping in his room. As they ran they cried:—

“‘The Cow with the Golden Horns has come! The Cow with the Golden Horns has come!’

“The Prince forgot his dignity and hurried out to see the Cow with the Golden Horns. The old man came leading her, and she was, indeed, a beautiful creature. Her head and limbs were almost as delicate as those of a deer, and her eyes were large and soft. Her body was as white as snow, her ears glistened like black silk, and her golden horns shone in the sun. The old man bowed low as he led the beautiful cow forward.

“‘I wouldn’t make much of a bride myself, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I have brought you the Cow with the Golden Horns. She might find you the bride that I failed to bring you.’

“‘I fear I shall have no such good fortune,’ replied the Prince. ‘But I think you have proved to me that I am not dreaming. How shall I reward you?’

“‘I ask no reward, your Majesty. I only ask the privilege of taking away my Cow with the Golden Horns when you have found your bride.’

“When the Prince had given his promise, the old man said, ‘You have a ring, your Majesty, that came to you in a curious way. Let this ring be placed on the left horn of the cow. The girl or woman that is able to remove this ring will be the bride you are wishing for. Every morning the Cow with the Golden Horns will appear here in the lawn and remain until night falls. Let it be announced, your Majesty, that whoever takes the ring from her shall be the Princess of the Realm.’”

“Huh!” exclaimed Drusilla suddenly. “He talk like he been ter college.”

“Will you hush?” cried Buster John. But Mr. Thimblefinger paid no attention to the interruption.

“‘But how do you know,’ asked the Prince, ‘that the right one will come to get the ring?’

“‘How do I know that your Majesty has the ring?’ the old man answered.

“This seemed to satisfy the Prince, who caused it to be announced all through his kingdom that he would choose for his bride the girl or woman who would take the ring from the golden horn of the Cow.

“Of course there was a great commotion among the ladies when this announcement was made, and nearly all of them tried to take the ring from the golden horn of the Cow. Some said they tried it just for fun, and some said they tried it just out of curiosity; but all of them failed. Even Eolen’s stepmother tried, and then she made her daughter try, but when the daughter touched the ring it burnt her so that she screamed. And then some of those who had tried and failed turned up their noses and said it was a trick.

“Eolen had never thought of trying. She had seen the Prince and admired him, yet she had no idea of going up before all these people. But as soon as her stepmother started for the palace with her daughter, there came a knock at the door. Eolen opened it, and there, standing before her, was the old man who had carried her to the Thunder’s house, and to the Jumping-Off Place. She was very glad to see him, and told him so, and he was just as glad to see her.

“‘Why don’t you go and get your ring?’ he asked.

“‘It is lost,’ she answered.

“‘It is found,’ he said. ‘I have placed it on the golden horn of the Cow that stands near the palace door. You must go and get it.’

“‘I have nothing to wear,’ she replied.

“Then the old man tapped on the wall and called:—

“‘Sister Jane! Sister Jane! Where are you?’

“‘I am where I ought to be,’ was the reply. The wall opened and out stepped the old, old woman that Eolen had seen combing her hair by the Well at the End of the World.

“‘Clothe this child in silk and satin and comb her hair out fine, Sister Jane.’

“The old woman grumbled a little, but gave Eolen a touch here and there, and in a moment she was dressed as fine as the finest lady in the land.

“‘Now she is ready, brother,’ said the old, old woman, and then she disappeared in the wall, combing her long gray hair and smiling.

“‘Must I walk?’ asked Eolen, looking at her satin slippers.

“‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed the old man. Then he tapped in another part of the wall. ‘Nephew! Nephew! Where are you?’

“‘Wherever you wish me to be,’ a voice replied, and then the wall opened, and out stepped the handsome stranger who had given Eolen the gold ring. ‘What do you want?’

“‘A carriage and horses,’ said the old man.

“‘They are at the door,’ was the reply, ‘and I’ll drive them myself.’

“Sure enough, there stood at the door a coach and four, and Eolen was carried to the palace in grand style. Liveried servants appeared and spread a strip of carpet before her, and the Cow with the Golden Horns came running to meet her, and in a moment she had the ring. Then the people set up a loud shout, crying:—

“‘The Princess! the Princess!’

“And then the Prince came out and went to her. She would have knelt, but he lifted her up and knelt himself before her, and kissed her hand, and smiled on her, for she was the lovely girl he had seen in the picture.”

“What is the moral of that?” inquired Mr. Rabbit, waking from his nap.

“Why, you didn’t even hear the story,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“That is the reason I want to hear the moral of it,” remarked Mr. Rabbit.

“There is no moral at all,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Then I’m mighty glad I was asleep,” grumbled Mr. Rabbit.

VIII.

BROTHER WOLF’S TWO BIG DINNERS.

The children said they were very much pleased with the story about the Cow with the Golden Horns. Buster John even went so far as to say that it was as good as some of the stories in the books. But Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. He said he was very glad they were pleased with it, but he knew Mr. Rabbit was right. The story couldn’t be a very good story, because it had no moral.

“But I think it had a very good moral,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.

“What was it?” inquired Mr. Rabbit with great solemnity.

“Why, if the little girl had been too stingy to give the old beggar a piece of her cake, she would never have come to be Princess,” replied Mrs. Meadows.

“Did she give the beggar a piece of cake?” asked Mr. Rabbit.

“Why, certainly she did,” Mr. Thimblefinger answered.

“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, setting himself back in his chair, “I must have been fast asleep when she did it. But the place for a moral, as I’ve been told, is right at the end of a story, and not at the beginning.”

“Can’t you tell us a story with a moral?” suggested Mrs. Meadows.

“I can,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I can for a fact, and the piece of cake you mentioned puts me in mind of it.”

Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes and rubbed his nose, and then began:—

“Once upon a time, when Brother Fox and myself were living on pretty good terms with each other, we received an invitation to attend a barbecue that Brother Wolf was going to give on the following Saturday. The next day we received an invitation to a barbecue that Brother Bear was going to give on the same Saturday.

“I made up my mind at once to go to Brother Bear’s barbecue, because I knew he would have fresh roasting ears, and if there’s anything I like better than another, it is fresh roasting ears. I asked Brother Fox whether he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue or to Brother Wolf’s, but he shook his head. He said he hadn’t made up his mind. I just asked him out of idle curiosity, for I didn’t care whether he went or whether he stayed.

“I went about my work as usual. Cold weather was coming on, and I wanted to get my crops in before the big freeze came. But I noticed that Brother Fox was mighty restless in his mind. He didn’t do a stroke of work. He’d sit down and then he’d get up; he’d stand still and look up in the tops of the trees, and then he’d walk back and forth with his hands behind him and look down at the ground.

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope you are not sick, Brother Fox.’

“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit; I never felt better in my life.’

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope money matters are not troubling you.’

“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit, money was never easier with me than it is this season.’

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope I’ll have the pleasure of your company to the barbecue to-morrow.’

“Says he, ‘I can’t tell, Brother Rabbit; I can’t tell. I haven’t made up my mind. I may go to the one, or I may go to the other; but which it will be, I can’t tell you to save my life.’

“As the next day was Saturday, I was up bright and early. I dug my goobers and spread ’em out to dry in the sun, and then, ten o’clock, as near as I could judge, I started out to the barbecue. Brother Wolf lived near the river, and Brother Bear lived right on the river, a mile or two below Brother Wolf’s. The big road, that passed near where Brother Fox and I lived, led in the direction of the river for about three miles, and then it forked, one prong going to Brother Wolf’s house, and the other prong going to Brother Bear’s house.

“Well, when I came to the forks of the road, who should I see there but old Brother Fox. I stopped before he saw me, and watched him. He went a little way down one road, and licked his chops; then he came back and went a little way down the other road, and licked his chops.

“Not choosing to be late, I showed myself and passed the time of day with Brother Fox. I said, says I, that if he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue, I’d be glad to have his company. But he said, says he, that he wouldn’t keep me waiting. He had just come down to the forks of the road to see if that would help him to make up his mind. I told him I was mighty sorry to miss his company and his conversation, and then I tipped my hat and took my cane from under my arm and went down the road that led to Brother Bear’s house.”

Here Mr. Rabbit paused, straightened himself up a little, and looked at the children. Then he continued:—

“I reckon you all never stood on the top of a hill three quarters of a mile from the smoking pits and got a whiff or two of the barbecue?”

“I is! I is!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Don’t talk! Hit make me dribble at de mouf. I wish I had some right now.”

“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, “I got a whiff of it and I was truly glad I had come—truly glad. It was a fine barbecue, too. There was lamb, and kid, and shote, all cooked to a turn and well seasoned, and then there was the hash made out of the giblets. I’ll not tell you any more about the dinner, except that I’d like to have one like it every Saturday in the year. If I happened to be too sick to eat it, I could sit up and look at it. Anyhow, we all had enough and to spare.

“After we had finished with the barbecue and were sitting in Brother Bear’s front porch smoking our pipes and talking politics, I happened to mention to Brother Bear something about Brother Wolf’s barbecue. I said, says I, that I thought I’d go by Brother Wolf’s house as I went on home, though it was a right smart step out of the way, just to see how the land lay.

“Says Brother Bear, says he: ‘If you’ll wait till my company take their leave, I don’t mind trotting over to Brother Wolf’s with you. The walk will help to settle my dinner.’

“So, about two hours by sun, we started out and went to Brother Wolf’s house. Brother Bear knew a short cut through the big canebrake, and it didn’t take us more than half an hour to get there. Brother Wolf was just telling his company good-by; and when they had all gone he would have us go in and taste his mutton stew, and then he declared he’d think right hard of us if we didn’t drink a mug or two of his persimmon beer.

“I said, says I, ‘Brother Wolf, have you seen Brother Fox to-day?’

“Brother Wolf said, says he, ‘I declare, I haven’t seen hair nor hide of Brother Fox. I don’t see why he didn’t come. He’s always keen to go where there’s fresh meat a-frying.’

“I said, says I, ‘The reason I asked was because I left Brother Fox at the forks of the road trying to make up his mind whether he’d eat at your house or at Brother Bear’s.’

“‘Well, I’m mighty sorry,’ says Brother Wolf, says he; ‘Brother Fox never missed a finer chance to pick a bone than he’s had to-day. Please tell him so for me.’

“I said I would, and then I told Brother Wolf and Brother Bear good-by and set out for home. Brother Wolf’s persimmon beer had a little age on it, and it made me light-headed and nimble-footed. I went in a gallop, as you may say, and came to the forks of the road before the sun went down.

“You may not believe it, but when I got there Brother Fox was there going through the same motions that made me laugh in the morning—running down one road and licking his chops, and then running down the other and licking his chops.

“Says I, ‘I hope you had a good dinner at Brother Wolf’s to-day, Brother Fox.’

“Says he, ‘I’ve had no dinner.’

“Says I, ‘That’s mighty funny. Brother Bear had a famous barbecue, and I thought Brother Wolf was going to have one, too.’

“Says Brother Fox, ‘Is dinner over? Is it too late to go?’

“Says I, ‘Why, Brother Fox, the sun’s nearly down. By the time you get to Brother Bear’s house, he’ll be gone to bed; and by the time you go across the swamp to Brother Wolf’s house, the chickens will be crowing for day.’

“‘Well, well, well!’ says Brother Fox, ‘I’ve been all day trying to make up my mind which road I’d take, and now it’s too late.’

“And that was the fact,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “The poor creature had been all day trying to make up his mind which road he’d take. Now, then, what is the moral?”

Sweetest Susan looked at Mrs. Meadows, but Mrs. Meadows merely smiled. Buster John rattled the marbles in his pocket.

“I know,” said Drusilla.

“What?” inquired Mr. Rabbit.

“Go down one road an’ git one dinner, den cut ’cross an’ git some mo’ dinner, an’ den go back home down de yuther road.”

Mr. Rabbit shook his head.

“Tar-Baby, you are wrong,” he said.

“If you want anything, go and get it,” suggested Buster John.

Mr. Rabbit shook his head and looked at Sweetest Susan, whereupon she said:—

“If you can’t make up your mind, you’ll have to go hungry.”

Mr. Rabbit shook his head.

“Eat a good breakfast,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and you won’t be worried about your dinner.”

“All wrong!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, with a chuckle. “The moral is this: He who wants too much is more than likely to get nothing.”

“Well,” remarked Mrs. Meadows dubiously, “if you have to work out a moral as if it was a sum in arithmetic, I’ll thank you not to trouble me with any more morals.”

“The motion is seconded and carried,” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger.

IX.

THE LITTLE BOY OF THE LANTERN.

“Of course,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “all of you can tell better stories than I can, because you are larger. Being taller, you can see farther and talk louder; but I sometimes think that if I was to climb a tree, I’d see as far as any of you.”

“Well, I hope your feelings are not hurt,” remarked Mr. Rabbit sympathetically. “It’s not the fault of your stories that I fall asleep when you are telling them. It’s my habit to sit and nod at certain hours of the day, and if you’ll watch me right close, you’ll see that I sometimes drop off when I’m telling a story myself. I’ll try and keep awake the next time you tell one.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to prop Mr. Rabbit’s eyelids open with straws,” said Mrs. Meadows, laughing.

“I’ll just try you with a little one,” Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “I’ll tell you one I heard when I was younger. I want to see whether Mr. Rabbit will keep awake, and I want to see whether there’s a moral in the tale.”

So he took off his little hat, which was shaped like a thimble, and run his hand over the feather ornament to straighten it out. Then he began:—

“A long time ago, when there was a great deal more room in the country next door than there is now, there lived a man who had a wife, one son, a horse, a cow, and a calf. He was a hard-working man, so much so that he had little or no time to devote to his family. He worked hard in the field all day, and when night came he was too tired to trouble much about his son. His wife, too, having no servant, was always busy about the house, sewing, washing, cooking, cleaning, patching, milking, and sweeping. Day in and day out it was always the same. The man was always working, and the woman was always working. They had no rest except on Sunday, and then they were too tired to pay much attention to their son.

“The consequence was, that while the boy was a very bright lad, he was full of mischief, up to all sorts of tricks and pranks that some people call meanness. By hook or by crook—or maybe by book—he had learned how to spell and read. But the only book he had to read was one with big pictures of men dressed in red clothes, and armed with yellow cutlasses. The book was called ‘The Pirooters of Peruvia.’”

“Maybe the name was ‘The Pirates of Peru,’” suggested Buster John.

“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “I don’t suppose any such country as Peru had been found on the map when that book was written. But never mind about that. The boy read only that book, and he became rather wild in his mind. He wanted to be a pirooter, whatever that was, and so he armed himself with old hoe helves and called them pikes, and he tied a shingle to his side and called it a cutlass, and he got him a broom-handle and called it a horse.

“This boy’s name was Johnny, but sometimes they called him Jack for short. Some people said he was mean as he could be; but I don’t say that. He was fonder of scampering over the country than he was of helping his mother. Maybe he didn’t know any better because he wasn’t taught any better. But one morning his mother was so tired that she couldn’t get out of bed. She had worn herself out with work. The next morning she couldn’t get up, nor the next; and then the neighbors, who had come in to see what the matter was, said that she would never get up any more. So one day Johnny found everything very still in the house, and the neighbors who were there were kinder to him than they ever had been, and then he knew that his mother would never get tired any more.

“He felt so bad that he wandered off into the woods, crying as he went. His eyes were so full of tears that he couldn’t see where he was going, and he didn’t care. He went on and on, until, finally, when he took heart to look around, he found himself in a part of the country that was new to him. This caused him to dry his eyes, for he was perfectly sure that he had traveled neither fast nor far enough to be beyond the limits of the numberless journeys he had made in all directions from his father’s house; and yet, here he was, suddenly and without knowing how he got there, in a country that was altogether new to him.

“It was just like when you came down through our spring gate,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “The grass was different and the trees were different, and even the sand and the gravel were of a color that Johnny had never seen before. Suddenly, while he was wondering how he could have missed seeing all these strange things when he had journeyed this way before, a lady, richly dressed, came out of the woods and stood before him. She neither smiled nor looked severe, but pity seemed to shine in her face.

“‘What now?’ she said, raising her hand to her head. ‘You have come fast and come far. You are in trouble. Go back. When you want me, go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill and call my name.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked Johnny, forgetting to be polite, if he ever knew how.

“‘The Keeper of the Cows that roam in the night,’ replied the lady. ‘When you go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill, whisper this:—

O Keeper of Cows that roam in the night, Come over the hill and lend me your light.’