Part 13

How you flutter, and reach, and climb! How eager your wee faces are! Aye, turned to the light till the blind old night Is led to the world by a star. Well, it surely is hard to feel one’s wings, And still be prisoned like wingless things.

“Tweet, tweet,” then says Parson Thrush, Who is preaching up in a tree; “Though you never may fly while the world goes by, Take heart, little flowers,” says he; “For often, I know, to the souls that aspire Comes something better than their desire!”

_St. Nicholas._

THE TRAILING ARBUTUS.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

I wandered lone where the pine trees made Against the east their barricade; And, guided by its sweet Perfume, I found within a narrow dell The trailing spring flower, tinted like a shell, Amid dry leaves and mosses at my feet.

From under dead boughs, for whose loss the pines Moaned ceaseless overhead, the blossoming vines Lifted their glad surprise, While yet the bluebird smoothed in leafless trees His feathers, ruffled by chill sea breeze, And snowdrifts lingered under April skies.

As, pausing, o’er the lowly flowers I bent, I thought of lives thus lowly, clogged and pent, Which yet find room, Through care and cumber, coldness and decay, To lend a sweetness to the ungenial day, And make the sad earth happier for their bloom.

A BUNCH OF COWSLIPS.

In the rarest of English valleys A motherless girl ran wild, And the greenness and silence and gladness Were soul of the soul of the child. The birds were her gay little brothers, The squirrels her sweethearts shy; And her heart kept tune with the raindrops, And sailed with the clouds in the sky; And angels kept coming and going, With beautiful things to do; And wherever they left a footprint, A cowslip or primrose grew.

She was taken to live in London— So thick with pitiless folk— And she could not smile for its badness, And could not breathe for its smoke; And now as she lay on her pallet, Too weary and weak to rise, A smile of ineffable longing Brought dews to her faded eyes; “Oh, me! for a yellow cowslip, A pale little primrose dear! Won’t some kind angel remember, And pluck one and bring it here?”

They brought her a bunch of cowslips; She took them with fingers weak, And kissed them, and stroked them, and loved them, And laid them against her cheek. “It was kind of the angels to send them; And now I’m too tired to pray, If God looks down at the cowslips, He’ll know what I want to say.” They buried them in her bosom; And when she shall wake and rise, Why may not the flowers be quickened, And bloom in her happy skies?

DAFFODILS.

ROBERT HERRICK.

We have short time to stay as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth, to meet decay, As you or anything. We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer’s rain, Or as the pearls of morning’s dew, Ne’er to be found again.

CHRYSANTHEMUMS.

MRS. MARY E. DODGE.

Bravest of brave sweet blossoms in all of the garden-row; Fair, when most of the flowers shrink from the winds that blow; Gay, when the dismal north wind wails through the tree-tops dumb; Breathing a breath of gladness is the brave Chrysanthemum.

One is of tawny color; another of cardinal glow, As the cheek of a sun-warmed maiden and reddest of wine will show; While some are of gorgeous yellow, like gold in a monarch’s crown, And some of a royal purple, dusted with softest down.

Some of a creamy whiteness, touched to a rosy blush, As the snow of the lovely Jungfrau glows with a sunset flush; Some flame at the heart, pearl-petaled; and lavender-hued are some; Yet each of them, crude or cultured, just a brave Chrysanthemum.

ROSES.

It is summer, says a fairy, Bring me tissue light and airy; Bring me colors of the rarest, Search the rainbow for the fairest Sea-shell, pink and sunny yellow, Kingly crimson, deep and mellow; Faint red in Aurora beaming, And the white in pure pearl gleaming.

Bring me diamonds from the spaces Where the air the earth embraces; Bring me gold-dust by divining Where the humming-bird is mining; Bring me sweets as rich as may be From the kisses of a baby; With an art no fay discloses I am going to make some roses.

THE MESSAGE OF THE SNOWDROP.

Courage and hope, true heart! Summer is coming though late the spring, Over the breast of the quiet mold, With an emerald shimmer—a glint of gold, Till the leaves of the regal rose unfold At the rush of the swallow’s wing.

Courage and hope, true heart! Summer is coming though spring be late; Wishing is weary and waiting is long, But sorrow’s day hath an even-song, And the garlands that never shall fade belong To the soul that is strong to wait.

RAGGED SAILORS.

O ragged, ragged Sailors! I pray you answer me: What may you all be doing So far away from sea?

“We’re loitering by the roadsides, We’re lingering on the hills, To talk with pretty Daisies In stiff and snowy frills.

“And though our blue be ragged, Right welcome still are we To tell the nodding lasses Long tales about the sea!”

DIALOGUES.

THE QUEEN’S NECKLACE.

ALEXANDER DUMAS.

NOTE.—The scandal concerning this famous necklace—upon which the story is founded—was one of the many misfortunes endured by the unhappy Queen Marie Antoinette.

Characters:

MARIE ANTOINETTE, Queen of France. Monsieur BOEHMER, Merchant.

_Monsieur Boehmer._ We do not come to offer anything to your Majesty, we should fear to be indiscreet; but we come to fulfill a duty concerning the necklace which your Majesty did not deign to take.

_Marie Antoinette._ Oh! then the necklace has come again! It was really beautiful, M. Boehmer.

_M. B._ So beautiful that your Majesty alone was worthy to wear it.

_M. A._ My consolation is that it cost a million and a half francs, and in these times there is no sovereign that can give such a sum for a necklace; so that although I cannot wear it, no one else can.

_M. B._ That is an error of your Majesty’s. The necklace is sold.

_M. A._ Sold! To whom?

_M. B._ Ah, Madame, that is a state secret.

_M. A._ Oh, I think I am safe. A state secret means that there is nothing to tell.

_M. B._ With your Majesty we do not act as with others. The necklace is sold, but in the most secret manner, and an embassador—

_M. A._ I really think you believe it yourself! Come, M. Boehmer, tell me at least the country he comes from, or, at all events, the first letter of his name.

_M. B._ Madame, it is the embassador from Portugal.

_M. A._ The embassador from Portugal! There is none here, M. Boehmer.

_M. B._ He came expressly for this, Madame.

_M. A._ Well, so much the better for the Queen of Portugal. We will speak of it no more.

_M. B._ We could not let the diamonds leave France without expressing our regret to your Majesty. It is a necklace which is now known all over Europe, and we wished to know definitely that your Majesty really refused it before we parted with it.

_M. A._ My refusal has been made public, and has been too much applauded for me to repent it.

_M. B._ Oh, Madame, if the people found it admirable that your Majesty preferred a ship of war to a necklace, the nobility at least would not think it surprising if you bought the necklace after all.

_M. A._ Do not speak of it any more!

_M. B._ It has touched your Majesty’s neck; it ought not to belong to any one else. We will return to-morrow.

_M. A._ Impossible! I have amused myself with these jewels; to do more would be a fault.

_M. B._ Your Majesty, then, refuses them?

_M. A._ Yes, oh yes. Take the necklace back. Put it away immediately!

QUEEN ISABELLA’S RESOLVE.

EPES SARGENT.

Characters:

ISABELLA, QUEEN OF SPAIN. DON GOMEZ, a Grandee. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

_Isabella._ And so, Don Gomez, you think we ought to dismiss the proposition of this worthy Genoese?

_Don Gomez._ His scheme, your Majesty, is fanciful in the extreme. I am a plain man. I do not see visions and dream dreams like some men.

_I._ And yet Columbus has given us good reasons for believing that he can reach India by sailing in a westerly direction.

_D. G._ Delusion, your Majesty! Admitting that the earth is a sphere, how would it be possible for him to return, if he once descended the sphere in the direction he proposes? Would not the coming back be all up-hill? Could a ship accomplish it even with the most favorable wind?

_I._ What have you to say to these objections, Columbus?

_Col._ With your Majesty’s leave, I would suggest that if the earth is a sphere, the same laws of adhesion and motion must operate at every point on its surface.

_D. G._ Don’t try to make _me_, a grandee of Spain, believe such stuff as that there are people on the earth who walk with their heads down, like flies on a ceiling! Would not the blood run into my head if I were standing upside down?

_Col._ I have already answered that objection. If there are people on the earth who are our antipodes, it should be remembered that we are also theirs.

_I._ To cut short the discussion, you think that the enterprise, which Columbus proposes, is one unworthy of our serious consideration?

_D. G._ As a matter-of-fact man, I must confess that I do so regard it. Has your Majesty ever seen an embassador from this unknown coast?

_I._ Have you ever seen an embassador from the unknown world of spirits?

_D. G._ Certainly not. Through faith we look forward to it.

_I._ Even so, by faith, does Columbus look forward, far over the misty ocean, to an undiscovered shore. Know, Don Gomez, that the _absurdity_, as you style it, shall be tested, and that forthwith.

_D. G._ Your Majesty will excuse me if I remark that I have from your royal consort himself the assurance that the finances of the government are so exhausted by the late wars that he cannot consent to advance the necessary funds for fitting out an expedition of the kind proposed.

_I._ Be mine, then, the privilege! I have jewels, by the pledging of which I can raise the amount required; and I have resolved that they shall be pledged to this enterprise without more delay.

_Col._ Your Majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. I will return—be sure I will return—and lay at your feet such a jewel as never queen wore yet, an imperishable fame that shall couple with your memory the benedictions of millions yet unborn in climes yet unknown to civilized man. There is a conviction in my mind that your Majesty will live to bless the hour you came to this decision.

THE MILL ON THE FLOSS.

GEORGE ELIOT.

Characters:

TOM TULLIVER. MAGGIE TULLIVER.

_Maggie._ I’ll help you now, Tom. I’ve come to the school to stay ever so long. I’ve brought my box and my pinafores—haven’t I, father?

_Tom._ _You_ help me, you silly little thing! I should like to see you doing one of my lessons. Why, I learn Latin, too. Girls never learn such things. They’re too silly.

_M._ I know what Latin is very well. Latin’s a language. There are Latin words in the dictionary. There’s _bonus_, a gift.

_T._ Now you’re just wrong there, Miss Maggie. You think you’re very wise. But “bonus” means “good,” as it happens—bonus, bona, bonum.

_M._ Well, that’s no reason why it shouldn’t mean “gift.” It may mean several things—almost every word does. There’s “lawn”—it means the grass-plot as well as the stuff pocket-handkerchiefs are made of.

_T._ Now, then, come with me into the study, Maggie.

_M._ Oh, what books! How I should like to have as many books as that!

_T._ Why, you couldn’t read one of ’em. They’re all Latin.

_M._ No, they aren’t. I can read the back of this, “History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.”

_T._ Well, what does that mean? _You_ don’t know.

_M._ But I could soon find out. I should look inside and see what it was about.

_T._ Oh, I say, Maggie, we must keep quiet here, you know. If we break anything, we’ll have to cry peccavi.

_M._ What’s that?

_T._ It’s the Latin for a good scolding.

_M._ Is your Mrs. Stelling a cross woman, Tom?

_T._ I believe you!

_M._ I think all women are crosser than men. Aunt Glegg’s a great deal crosser than Uncle Glegg, and mother scolds me more than father does.

_T._ Well, you’ll be a woman some day, so _you_ needn’t talk.

_M._ But I shall be a _clever_ woman, Tom.

_T._ Oh, I dare say, and a nasty conceited thing. Everybody’ll hate you.

_M._ But you oughtn’t to hate me, Tom. It will be very wicked of you, for I shall be your sister.

_T._ Oh, bother! Come, it’s time for me to learn my lessons. Just see what I’ve got to do!

* * * * *

Characters:

Mrs. TULLIVER. Mrs. PULLET.

_Mrs. P._ My new bonnet has come home, Bessy.

_Mrs. T._ Has it, sister? And how do you like it?

_Mrs. P._ It’s apt to make a mess with clothes, taking them out and putting them in again. But it would be a pity for you to go away without seeing it. There’s no knowing what may happen.

_Mrs. T._ I’m afraid it’ll be troublesome to you getting it out, sister; but I should like to see what kind of a crown she’s made you.

_Mrs. P._ You’d like to see it on, sister? I’ll open the shutter a bit farther.

_Mrs. T._ Well, if you don’t mind taking off your cap, sister.

_Mrs. P._ I’ve sometimes thought there’s a loop too much of ribbon on the left side, sister. What do _you_ think?

_Mrs. T._ Well, I think it’s best as it is. If you meddled with it, sister, you might repent. How much might she charge you for that bonnet, sister?

_Mrs. P._ Pullet pays for it. He said I was to have the best bonnet at Garum Church, let the next best be whose it would. I may never wear it twice, sister; who knows?

_Mrs. T._ Don’t talk of that, sister. I hope you’ll keep your health this summer.

_Mrs. P._ But there may come a death in the family, as there did soon after I had my green satin bonnet.

_Mrs. T._ That _would_ be unlucky. There’s never so much pleasure in wearing a bonnet a second year, especially when the crowns are so chancy—never two summers alike.

_Mrs. P._ Ah, it’s the way of the world! Sister, if you should never see that bonnet again till I’m dead and gone, you’ll remember I showed it to you this very day.

THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.

SUSAN WARNER.

Characters:

RUFUS LANDHOLM. WINTHROP LANDHOLM.

_Rufus._ We’ve got the farm in pretty good order now.

_Winthrop._ Yes, father has, if those stumps were once out. We ought to have good crops this year of most things.

_R._ I am sure I have spent four or five years of _my_ life in hard work upon it.

_W._ Your life ain’t much the worse for it. Father has spent more than that. How hard he has worked—to make this farm!

_R._ It was a pretty tough subject to begin with; but now it’s the handsomest farm in the county. It ought to pay considerable after this.

_W._ It hasn’t brought us in much so far, Rufus, except just to keep along; and a pretty tight fit at that.

_R._ If the farm was clear, I’d stand the chance of its paying. It’s that keeps us down—the debt.

_W._ Debt! What debt?

_R._ The interest on the mortgage.

_W._ What is the debt?

_R._ Several thousands, I believe.

_W._ You and I must pay off that money, Rufus.

_R._ Ay; but still there’s the question, which is the best way to do it?

_W._ The best way, I’ve a notion, is not to take too long noon-spells in the afternoon.

_R._ Stop a bit. Sit down again; I want to speak to you. Do you want to spend all your life following the oxen?

_W._ What is the matter, Rufus?

_R._ Matter! Why, Winthrop, that I am not willing to stay here and be a ploughman all my life, when I might be something better.

_W._ How can you be anything better, Rufus?

_R._ Do you think all the world is like this little world which these hills shut in? There is another sort of world, Winthrop, where people know something; where other things are to be done than running plough furrows; where men may read and write—do something great—distinguish themselves. I want to be in that world.

_W._ But what will you do, Rufus, to get into that world? We are shut in here.

_R._ _I_ am not shut in! I will live for something greater than this!

_W._ So would I, if I could; but what are we to do?

_R._ There is only one thing to do. I shall go to college.

_W._ But some preparation is necessary, Rufus; isn’t it? How will you get that? Father wants us this summer. We are just beginning to help him.

_R._ We can help him much better the other way. Farming is the most miserable slow way of making money that ever was contrived.

_W._ How do _you_ propose to make money, Rufus?

_R._ I don’t know. I am not thinking about making money at present.

_W._ It takes a great deal to go to college, don’t it?

_R._ Yes. But I intend to go, Winthrop.

_W._ Yes, you’ll go.

_R._ I’ll _try_ for it.

_W._ _And you’ll get it, too_, Rufus!

MISTRESS AND MAID.

DINAH MULOCK CRAIK.

Characters:

SELINA LEAF. HILARY LEAF.

_Selina._ I’m sure I don’t know how we are to manage with Elizabeth. That greedy—

_Hilary._ And growing—

_S._ I say that greedy girl eats as much as both of us. And as for her clothes—her mother doesn’t keep her decent.

_H._ She would find it hard on three pounds a year.

_S._ Hilary, how dare you contradict me? I am only stating a plain fact.

_H._ And I another. But, indeed, I don’t want to talk, Selina.

_S._ You never do except when you are wished to be silent, and then your tongue goes like any race-horse.

_H._ Does it? Well, like Gilpin’s,

“It carries weight, it rides a race, ’Tis for a thousand pound!”

—and I only wish it were. Heigh-ho! If I could but earn a thousand pounds!

_S._ I’m sure she was as black as a chimney-sweep all to-day. Her pinafore had three rents in it, which she never thinks of mending, though I gave her needles and thread myself a week ago. She doesn’t know how to use them any more than a baby.

_H._ Possibly nobody ever taught her.

_S._ Yes, she went for a year to the National School, she says.

_H._ Well, her forte is certainly children. She is wonderfully patient with our troublesome scholars.

_S._ You always find something to say for her.

_H._ I should be ashamed if I could not find something to say for anybody who is always abused. How can I help it, Selina, if a girl fifteen years old is not a paragon of perfection? as we all are, if we only could find it out.

_S._ Her month ends to-morrow. Let her go.

_H._ And perhaps get in her place a story-teller, a tale-bearer, even a thief. By the bye, the first step in the civilization of the Polynesians was giving them clothes. Suppose we try the experiment with Elizabeth?

THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII.

EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.

City destroyed, A.D. August 24, 79. Discovered, 1750.

Characters:

CLODIUS, } PAUSA, } Citizens.

_Clodius._ When is our next wild-beast fight?

_Pausa._ It stands fixed for the ninth ide of August. We have a most lovely young lion for the occasion.

_C._ Whom shall we get for him to eat? Alas! there is a great scarcity of criminals. You must positively find some innocent or other to condemn to the lion, Pausa.

_P._ Indeed, I have thought very seriously about it of late. It was a most infamous law which forbade us to send our own slaves to the wild beasts. Not to let us do what we like with our own! That’s what I call an infringement on property itself.

_C._ Not so in the good old days of the Republic.

_P._ And then this pretended mercy to the slaves is such a disappointment to the poor people. How they do love to see a good tough battle between a man and a lion! And all this innocent pleasure they may lose—if the gods don’t send us a good criminal soon—from this cursed law.

_C._ What can be worse policy than to interfere with the manly amusements of the people?

_P._ Well, thank Jupiter and the Fates! We have no Nero at present.

_C._ He was, indeed, a tyrant. He shut up our amphitheatre for ten years.

_P._ I wonder it didn’t create a rebellion.

_C._ As it very nearly did.

* * * * *

Characters:

GLAUCUS, } SALLUST, } LEPIDUS, } Citizens.

_Sallust._ Ah, it is a lustrum since I saw you!

_Glaucus._ And how have you spent the lustrum? What new dishes have you discovered?

_S._ I have been scientific, and have made some experiments in the feeding of lampreys. I confess I despair of bringing them to the perfection which our Roman ancestors attained.

_G._ Miserable man! and why?

_S._ Because it is no longer lawful to give them a slave to eat. But slaves are not slaves nowadays, and have no sympathy with their masters’ interest, or one of mine would destroy himself to oblige me.

_Lepidus._ What news from Rome?

_S._ The emperor has been giving a splendid supper to the senators.

_L._ He is a good creature. They say he never sends a man away without granting his request.

_S._ Perhaps he would let me kill a slave for my reservoir?

_G._ Not unlikely; for he who grants a favor to one Roman must always do it at the expense of another. Be sure that for every smile Titus has caused a hundred eyes have wept.

_S._ Long live Titus! He has promised my brother a quæstorship because he has run through his fortune.

_L._ And wishes now to enrich himself among the people.

_S._ Exactly so.

_G._ That is putting the people to some use. Well, let us to the baths. This is the time when all the world is there, and Fulvius, whom you admire so much, is going to read us an ode.

RUTH HALL.

FANNY FERN.

Characters:

Mrs. HENRY HALL. Mrs. RUTH HALL, Daughter-in-law.

_Mrs. H._ Good morning, Ruth; _Mrs. Hall_, I suppose, I _should_ call you, only that I can’t get used to being shoved aside so suddenly.

_Ruth._ Oh, pray don’t say Mrs. Hall to _me_. Call me any name that best pleases you; I shall be quite satisfied.

_Mrs. H._ I suppose you understand all about housekeeping, Ruth?

_Ruth._ No. I have but just returned from boarding-school.

_Mrs. H._ It is a great pity you were not brought up properly. Harry has his fortune yet to make, you know. Young people nowadays seem to think money comes in showers. Harry has been brought up sensibly. He has been taught economy. Do you know how to iron, Ruth?

_Ruth._ Yes. I have sometimes clear-starched my own muslins and laces.

_Mrs. H._ Glad to hear it. Can you make bread? When I say _bread_, I _mean_ bread,—none of your soda, saleratus mixtures,—old-fashioned yeast-_riz_ bread. Do you know how to make it?

_Ruth._ No. People in the city always buy baker’s bread; my father did.

_Mrs. H._ Your father! Land’s sake, child, you mustn’t quote your father, now you’re married. I hope you won’t be always running home, or running anywhere, in fact. Do you know I should like your looks better if you didn’t curl your hair?

_Ruth._ I don’t curl it; it curls naturally.

_Mrs. H._ That’s a pity. You should avoid everything that looks frivolous. And, Ruth, if you should feel the need of exercise, don’t gad in the streets. There is nothing like a broom and a dust-pan to make the blood circulate. I hope you don’t read novels and such trash. I have a very select little library containing a most excellent sermon on Predestination by our good old minister, Dr. Diggs. Any time you stand in need of _rational_ reading, come to me.

DIOGENES AND PLATO ON PRIDE.

T. A. BLAND.

_Diogenes._ Fie on thy philosophy, Plato! In spite of all, thou art the veriest of aristocrats, while philosophy teacheth humility.

_Plato._ Thou hast spoken truly, Diogenes, but not in wisdom; thy speech is wise, ’tis true, but thy thought is foolish. That I am proud, I own, and that I am a democrat, I do most sincerely maintain.

_D._ Now thou speakest in riddles. Thy words are double, and thy answer as the answer of the fool.