Part 4

No doubt, after their hard work is done, they have fine fun at their parties, and merry-makings. Whether they have “town meetings,” and public lectures, and parades, I know not. Private lectures, and concerts, I am sure they must have! And the liveliest jigs and waltzes among the branches of the trees!

A traveler in Africa once brought one of these nests away with him. It contained 340 little nests. So it had been inhabited by 340 pairs of birds, and their families. It was so heavy that several men were necessary to remove it from the tree; and it was taken away in a wagon.

THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF GUTEFUNDUS.

Once upon a time—it was four hundred years ago—the great Gutefundus, of blessed memory, made up his mind that he would go all over the world, and do good to everybody. A great part of the world as we know it, had not then been discovered, and there were not so many people in those times as there are now. But still it was something of an undertaking to go all over the world, and do good to everybody.

Nevertheless, Gutefundus resolved to do it.

He decided, in the first place, that he would kill the great Sea Serpent. This was a snake three or four miles long, which amused itself by winding its coils around ships, thus crunching them up, after which it would eat the crews at its leisure. If it were not very hungry it would follow a ship a long time, rising out of the water occasionally, and picking off a man or two at a time, until it had made an end of the whole ship’s company.

Nobody ever knew where to find this snake, for it traveled all over the ocean with incredible swiftness; and, it had such an extremely hard and horny skin, that no dart or knife could pierce it. It was therefore not an easy thing either to find the Sea Serpent, or to kill it.

Nevertheless Gutefundus determined to find it and kill it.

He embarked on this expedition in mid-summer, in the very best vessel that could be made in those days, and with a crew of picked men. Fortune favored him, and in the second month of the cruise, the great Sea Serpent was after the ship of Gutefundus, little dreaming that that very ship was after him.

The sailors were frightened nearly out of their wits when they first saw the long line of this monster’s body rising and falling on the waves, far in their rear. But the stout heart of Gutefundus knew no fear. He took in sail, and waited for his foe. But the serpent was in no hurry. He kept his distance for a couple of days, and then he sank into the water and disappeared. Gutefundus feared the snake had escaped him; but, a few days afterwards, it unexpectedly popped its head out of the water, close to the ship’s sides, and, in an instant, seized a sailor in its enormous jaws, and went down again with a tremendous splash.

At that moment Gutefundus thought that, so far, he had done no good to any body, and had been the means of leading the poor sailor to his death.

But he did not despair. The Sea Serpent would come again, he felt sure, and now that he knew the enemy’s tactics, he made his preparations. The next time the Sea Serpent reared his head over the ship’s side Gutefundus was ready for it. Barrels filled with water were arranged all along the sides of the deck, and the moment the great head was level with the deck, Gutefundus was in front of it; and, in a twinkling, he rolled a barrel into the gaping mouth of the creature. The astonished snake gulped down this unusual morsel with some difficulty; and Gutefundus took advantage of this interval of choking to plunge his long spear into one of the eyes of the monster. It sank heavily into the water; and, for several days, the ship sailed over a sea reddened with its blood.

And that was the last of the great Sea Serpent. It is a pity that the Serpent’s body never rose to the surface, so that our hero might have had its skin.

The next expedition of Gutefundus was to the Orkney Islands. Wonderful trees grew in the marshes of those distant isles. They bore eggs for fruit! At the proper season these egg-like fruits opened, and out dropped little ducks into the water, where they immediately began to swim about. These trees were called Bird Trees.

It was rather a singular thing that, although the learned men wrote full accounts of these trees, and all the common people talked about them, nobody had ever seen one of them.

Now, in Gutefundus’ country it sometimes happened that the poor people had nothing to eat, and there would be a famine. He wisely thought that if he could get some roots and slips of this Duck Tree, and plant them along all the water courses, in a few years there would be ducks enough for the very poorest family.

It was considered a very dangerous thing to take a voyage to these savage islands, but Gutefundus decided he would do it.

And he did it. He met with some fearful adventures on the way, but, after many weary months, he arrived at the Orkneys. And there, sure enough, right before his eyes, was the wonderful Bird Tree! Its long trunk stretched far out over the water. Its branches were loaded with fruit. Some of this fruit was as close shut as an egg; but some of it was splitting open, and the little ducks coming out. Some of the ducks were just ready to drop into the water, and others had only a small piece of bill stuck out of the egg. Hundreds had already fallen, and were swimming gaily about.

The delighted Gutefundus plucked some of the fruit that had not yet opened, and stored it away to take home to show to his countrymen. His next proceeding was to take measures for introducing the culture of bird-trees into his country. He concluded he would cut off some of the smaller branches, and some little twigs, and would put some of their native soil in tubs on the ship, and in these he would root his slips. From these few slips bird-trees could be spread over the country in a few years.

The task of choosing and cutting these slips he took upon himself, and climbed the tree for that purpose. But, no sooner had he cut the first little twig than he felt a great shudder running all through the tree. It shook from top to bottom. The roots tore themselves loose from the soil with such a wrench that the whole tree fell violently forward into the water, and sank beneath the waves as if it were made of iron. The ducks that were swimming around went down with it, and were seen no more. Gutefundus, entangled in the branches, would inevitably have gone down also with the tree, had he not caught fast hold of some sedges on the shore, and, by a great effort, got his feet free from the branches.

He, and the ship’s company knew then that this was a magic tree. The gathered fruit they had, was therefore accursed, and they immediately threw it all overboard. On touching the water it burst with a great explosion. They then sailed away from the spot as quickly as possible.

From that day to this there has never been another bird tree found anywhere. And the poor people of Gutefundus’ country lived and died without ever tasting tree-ducks.

His next expedition was the greatest of all the undertakings of Gutefundus. Immense stores of gold, silver, and precious stones lay buried in the rocks of certain caverns in the mountains. But men could not go there to dig out the treasures, because the entrance to these caverns was guarded by a terrible dragon. A few daring individuals had ventured near this entrance, and, peeping in, had seen heaps of bones. These, no doubt, were all that was left of men, who, in some previous time had attempted to get the treasures. They even got a sight of the dragon, and represented it as a gigantic creature, partly beast, partly bird, and partly serpent.

These venturesome men were thankful to have escaped from the neighborhood without going any nearer the cave; and, from that time, no one had ever been within miles of it. But Gutefundus resolved that these treasures should no longer lie there useless. Mankind should have the benefit of them. Nobody believed he could conquer this dragon. Nobody would accompany him on such a mad enterprise. It did seem like going to certain death. Nevertheless Gutefundus made up his mind to do it.

He set out alone. It took him three years to reach the forest that surrounded the mountain, of which he was in search. He had passed through strange countries, and had taken part in many a good fight, but he arrived at the edge of the forest, a day’s journey only from the caverns, well and in good spirits for the fight with the dragon.

But here something befell him more wonderful than all he had gone through in his life.

Night was approaching, and he looked about for a resting-place. He heard the tinkling sound of a little bell, and bent his steps in that direction. It led him some distance into the forest to a small hut, made of dried mud. A little wooden belfry was built upon this, and the bell was ringing at the close of day. Gutefundus, believing it to be the dwelling of some hermit, entered it to ask for a night’s lodging. There was no one there, and he wondered by what contrivance the bell rang itself. While waiting for the owner to appear, he stretched himself upon a couch of dried moss; and, being very tired, he soon fell asleep.

When he awoke, he started up, and looked around in surprise. He was still alone. His clothes were in rags; his feet were bare, for his shoes had fallen to pieces on the floor; the hut had crumbled until it was only a shattered mound; the wooden belfry lay around in broken bits; the little bell was half buried in the dried mud, by his side, and was nearly eaten up with rust. This reminded him of his sword, and he looked anxiously for it. He saw it directly, on the earthen floor close by him. It had, evidently, just fallen out of the scabbard, which, all full of rents, was still attached to his rusty belt. The sword was as bright as ever. He remembered now that it was the clattering it had made in falling that had awakened him. Just then the gleam of something white crossed his eyes. It was his beard, grown very long, and perfectly grey. He was conscious then that his head felt cold. He clapped his hands there, and found he was bald!

He understood the whole matter now. He had been in a magic sleep! How many years he had slept he could not guess. Maybe two or three hundred years. Such instances were not so very uncommon. He recalled the names of several great men, who had slept for a hundred years and more. Some of them were sleeping still. It was clear that the dragon was a magician, and had led him into the wood to put him into a magic sleep.

Gutefundus, upon this, arrived at two comfortable reflections. Firstly, that the dragon was afraid of him, or it would not have sent this sleep upon him; and, secondly, that it had no power over his trusty sword, which was there by him unharmed. He took it up, felt the edge, and found it sharp and keen.

He walked out of the wood, and sought the nearest town. His appearance at first alarmed the people in the market place; but when he told who he was, and on what errand he had come, and what had befallen him, they received him with joy. They had heard all about him, but everybody supposed he had been killed by the dragon twenty years before.

He had slept for twenty years! He went into the hut a man in the prime of life. He came out of it an old, bald-headed man.

But he was as courageous as ever. The dragon, it appeared, was still alive, and no mortal man dared go near the treasures he guarded. No one would go with Gutefundus to attack the fearful beast. He could get no kind of armor in the town; and no suit to wear except a blouse, and a pair of baggy trowsers. Such was the costume of the place.

But he had his bright and trusty sword that had never yet failed him, and he marched boldly into the wood again after the dragon.

He entered the cavern, and had proceeded unmolested for some distance, when he heard a fearful roar, and out upon him rushed the dragon. It stretched its beast’s body; opened its huge jaws; ran out its hissing, serpent tongue; flapped loudly its bird’s wings; and curled its snake tail.

But Gutefundus stood his ground undaunted. He felt from the tips of his toes to his bald crown that that serpent’s time had come. He swung his sword on high. Up rushed the dragon; down came the sword, whack! and cut the terrible head into two parts! The beast was stunned, but not killed. Another stroke severed the body; and the third cut off its tail.

The dragon was dead, and the treasures thus became the property of mankind.

Gutefundus contented himself with a small share of the spoils, and passed the rest of his days quietly at home. He had been pretty much all over the world; and, if he had not done good to everybody, he had certainly taken some of the evil out of the earth.

I suppose none of my readers believe that these adventures actually befell any man who ever lived upon the face of the earth. But I have told you nothing that was not held to be true at the time Gutefundus lived; and at a much later period too. Such wild legends were fully credited, and not by ignorant people only. The three pictures I have given in the story were drawn by the most learned men of that olden time; and they had no doubt whatever of the existence of the Dragon, the Sea Serpent, and the Bird Tree.

SOME BIG GUNS.

Ever since the invention of gunpowder, the men who have been devoting their attention to the science of gunnery for purposes of war have been making their cannon larger and larger.

This is not the case with the weapons that are carried by soldiers; for our rifles and muskets are much smaller than those used by our ancestors. A hundred or two years ago, the great flint-lock muskets and blunderbusses were twice as large as the rifles now used, although they did not carry a ball half the distance, or with any thing like the accuracy of our improved arms.

But the cannon that used to be in fashion were but little things compared to those of the present day.

You might put one of the old-fashioned cannon into one of our great columbiads and fire it out of it instead of a ball.

And while the cannon have been growing larger and larger, the defenses against cannon-shot are growing stronger and stronger.

Now our men-of-war are generally what are called “iron-clads.” The hull is covered with immense plates of iron or steel, which it is almost impossible to pierce with the heaviest balls or conical shot. And the forts are so constructed that the great masses of metal that are sometimes hurled against them in time of war seem to have but little effect upon their massive sides. And so the competition between the weapons of offense and the means of defense goes on. As the cannon are made larger, the iron plates on the ships are made thicker and stronger, and the forts are built with walls that are more massive and more thoroughly ball-proof.

Which party will succeed in this contest it is impossible to say.

If walls and ships could be constructed that would be impervious to the heaviest cannon balls, warfare would probably soon come to an end, for if a nation could have such forts and such ships it would be useless for any other nation to make attacks upon it.

And if cannon could be made that would send balls through the sides of any iron-clad, or through the walls of any fortification, war would probably soon cease, for no country could resist a hostile nation thus armed.

Therefore it is almost to be hoped that one of these parties—the manufacturers of great cannon or the builders of ships and forts will so far surpass the other that the trials between them in time of war will be considered useless.

But it seems very doubtful if a limit to the size and force of cannon, and the strength of iron-clads and forts will soon be found.

Although our cannon are so large, we hear stories of guns of the kind that were very large and yet not at all modern.

It is said that the Knights of the island of Malta had a tremendous cannon, which, when it was fired off, made everybody, even old gunners stop their ears for fear that they would be deafened by the terrific noise.

And the Chinese, who certainly invented gunpowder long before we thought of it, have a tradition that their country once possessed a most enormous cannon. It was constructed of pieces that were fastened together by great bands, like the hoops on our barrels and casks.

It is said that this enormous cannon, the bore of which was so large that you might sleep inside of it if you felt sure it was not to be used before you came out, was never fired but once, and the inhabitants of the locality where it stood (or still stands, for all I know,) believe that the ball is flying yet.

It would certainly be unpleasant if any of us happened to be taking a walk through a pleasant country, to meet this ball so suddenly that there would be no time to turn out for it.

But one of our great American guns, that carry a five-hundred pound ball for five or six miles, would certainly be able to knock this Chinese cannon into a thousand splinters, if it could but once get a fair crack at it.

I wonder what the ancients, with their battering rams, and catapults, and javelins, and slings, and arrows, would have thought, if an American field-battery had opened upon one of their bravest armies.

In that case I think that even Achilles would have thought it as necessary to take the same care of his whole body as he had before taken of his heel—which you remember was the only part of him that was vulnerable to the weapons of that day.

TOM REYNOLDS AND MORIYAMA.

“Fun,” exclaimed Tom Reynolds, “You couldn’t have more fun than I had. No boy could stand it.”

This was said to a boy-friend after Tom had come home from Japan.

And Tom was right. He had had a splendid time.

Tom Reynolds was an American boy, whose father was engaged in business which made it necessary for him to visit Yokohama in Japan. It is probable that he would not have thought of taking Tom with him on this trip if it had not been for Moriyama. This yellow youth put the idea into Tom’s head, and Tom, who was as good a talker as he was a walker, which is saying a great deal, managed to convince his father that nothing would be of as great advantage to him as a journey to Japan.

School was nothing to a trip like this, Tom argued, and he argued so much that the end of it was he went to Japan.

Moriyama was a Japanese boy, and a first-rate fellow. He was one of the many Japanese youths who came to America to be educated, and he went to Tom’s school.

There these two boys became great friends. Moriyama was a very quick, bright youth. He could speak English very well, and he was rather better at English grammar than most of the other fellows in that school. The other fellows explained this by saying that Moriyama didn’t know anything about our grammar except what he had learned from books, and of course the books were right. But they had learned their grammar from all sorts of people, ever since they were little bits of chaps. And so they had learned all sorts of grammar, and had a good deal to unlearn when they came to the school.

But the fact was that Moriyama was as thoroughly in earnest about his studies as most boys are about base-ball. So it was no wonder that he succeeded.

He was not a large boy nor was he very young. As Tom put it, he was a good deal smaller than he was young. There were plenty of fellows in the school who could have whipped him, if they had wanted to, but they didn’t want to, for two reasons. He was a quiet, obliging boy, who seldom offended any one, and if any one had tried to whip him they would first have had to whip Tom Reynolds, which was no easy job. Tom had a fist as heavy as one end of a dumb-bell, and the muscles on his arms swelled up a good deal like the other end of a dumb-bell.

Moriyama’s time at school was up, and he had to go to Japan. Tom’s time wasn’t up, but he promised to study ever so hard when he came back—with his mind improved by travel—and so the three of them, Tom, Tom’s father, and Moriyama, sailed for Yokohama.

This story will not be long enough for me to tell anything about the journey—how they sailed from New York to Aspinwall, and went across the Isthmus of Panama by railroad, and then took another steamship and crossed the Pacific Ocean; and how, at last they steamed up the bay of Yedo, and saw towering up to the sky, the great extinct volcano, Fusi-yama, the sacred mountain of Japan.

I cannot even tell about their landing at Yokohama, nor even very much about Tom’s adventures in Japan, but I can give you some of his experiences, and if you ever meet him, he can tell you the rest. And he will be very apt to do it, too, if you are the right kind of a boy or girl, for Tom is a great talker, and very sociable.

When they arrived at Yokohama Tom’s father took lodgings for himself and his son at the house of an American merchant in the town, but Moriyama went into the country where his family lived.

Of course it was very natural that he should want to see his father and mother, and brothers and sisters, but Tom could not help feeling sorry about it. It would have been such a capital thing to have had Moriyama to take him around at the very beginning of his visit, and tell him about all the curious things he saw.

But Tom had to do his sight-seeing pretty much by himself, at first, for his father was very busy, and the Americans that he met did not have much time to go about with a boy.

But Tom was not a bad fellow to take care of himself, and as his father engaged for him a horse and a _betto_, as a man who attends horses in Japan is called, he had every opportunity of going about as much as he wanted to.

When Tom’s horse was brought out for him the first time there were two bettos in attendance. One of them had clothes enough on, but the other one looked as if he were just ready to take a swim.

This fellow was the one who accompanied Tom wherever he went. He was a good-natured man and very ready to talk, and if Tom could have understood a word he said, he might have been very interesting.

But they got along capitally together, and Tom rode about Yokohama all day, and came home at night, and asked questions of his father. In this way he got some information about the things he had seen, but in many cases he had to make up theories of his own about things. And some very curious theories he made.

There was a porter who had a lodge at the door of the house where they lived, and he used to strike on a gong every time any one entered. Sometimes he struck once, and sometimes two or three times, and Tom could not imagine what he did it for. He might have asked his father about this, but he made up his mind that he would find it out for himself.

You must not suppose that Tom’s father was not a good-natured man, or that he objected to giving information to his son. But the truth was that Mr. Reynolds was not only very busy all day, and very often at night, with his merchant friends, but he did not know a great deal about Japanese life himself.

As soon as he had got through with the most pressing part of his business, he intended to go about and see Japan. He had never been there before.

At first Tom thought that when he heard one crack on the gong it meant that that was the first time he had come in. But when he heard only one stroke the second and the third time, while some other people got two taps the first time they came, he knew that this must be a mistake.