Part 9
This wonderful tree bore the name of Ygdrasil. Its branches overshadowed the whole world; its top supported the sky, and its roots went so far down that no one could find the end. This tree was the home of Odin and his gods, and there they stayed, except when business called them elsewhere.
This is the way the gods found out what was going on in the world, while they were having a good time in Ygdrasil. Two ravens were always flying to and fro through the Universe, and, once a day, they would perch on Odin’s shoulders and tell him the news. A little squirrel darted swiftly up and down the tree, and picked up all the scraps of gossip it could. Near the top of the tree a great eagle kept perpetual watch, and on the very topmost branch perched a vulture; and these birds, which could see to the horizon on every side cried out, and flapped their wings when any strange thing happened.
Besides all these there was the watch-god, Heimdall. His sight and hearing were marvelous. He could hear the grass grow in the fields, and hear the wool grow on the backs of the sheep. He could not only watch a fly from the one end of the world to the other, but could count the spots on its wings, and the joints in its little legs, if it was at the opposite side of the universe from himself. He could see the smallest atom that moved at the bottom of the ocean. And, what was the most astonishing of all, he could see in the darkest night as well as in the brightest day.
It is a pity this god is not living now, for he could describe to us the bottom of the ocean, and tell us if there is an open sea at the North Pole, and an icy continent at the South Pole, and a great many things we want very much to know, and have not been able to find out.
This Heimdall had golden teeth. He had also a son, named Jarl, who was a very famous god. When he was only a child he could give heavy blows with a great club, and swim like a fish, and ride on horseback as swiftly as the wind. And he understood the language of birds and beasts, and could converse with them.
There were some very queer things about these gods. We might suppose these powerful beings would be perfectly formed, but they were not. Heimdall, as we have seen, had false teeth; Tyr had but one hand; Widar was dumb; Hoder was blind; and the great Odin himself had but one eye. And it seems, too, that they did not know everything there was to be known, as the following story will show you.
There lived in the world, in those days, a very wise man, named Kvasir. He noticed how much trouble men had in expressing their thoughts in any way but speech. If one wanted to send a message to another he could only make a rude drawing on a piece of stone to represent what he wanted to say, or paint it in certain colors that stood for certain things. There was not much of this done, for not only was this process troublesome, but it was easy to misunderstand these messages; and they caused a great deal of confusion, and many quarrels, and much fighting. Kvasir wanted to remedy this; and, after a great deal of hard study, and many experiments he invented the art of writing. He also invented poetry. He called his verses _runes_, and he wrote them on beech bark, which he made into tablets.
The gods had never thought of doing anything like this.
There is no knowing how much Kvasir would have done if he had lived longer. Perhaps he would have invented printing and paper; which, as matters turned out, nobody thought of doing until many hundred years later.
But this wise and good man was killed by two wicked dwarfs. They did this in order to steal from him this treasure of poetry, and the art of writing. You may wonder how they were going to get at the treasure, for, after they had killed him, there could be no more poetry; and they could not pick it out of his brain as a thief takes a pocket-book out of the pocket. But these dwarfs were magicians, and such people, you know, have a pretty good idea what they are about. They collected his blood, and mixed it with honey in three separate proportions. These they put into three jars which they closely sealed, and buried in a cave which had never been seen either by gods or men.
These three compounds were Logic, Eloquence, and Poetry. We shall never know what the dwarfs were going to do with them, for I am happy to say that they were not allowed to keep them.
Odin’s two ravens had witnessed the whole performance of the dwarfs, and the sensible birds concluded this must be a great treasure, or it would not be worth so much trouble. So they flew straight to Odin, and told him all about it. Odin sent the squirrel up the tree Ygdrasil with an order for the eagle to leave his post, to fly to the cave, and to bring the jars to him.
This the eagle accomplished in a very short space of time, and Odin immediately opened each jar, and tasted the contents. He at once commenced reasoning eloquently in the most ravishing strains of poetry. His daughter Saga, and his son Bragi, were with their father; and, seeing how he enjoyed these new dishes, they wanted some too. Odin politely offered the first jar to Saga, but it probably did not taste pleasantly, as she declined to do more than just touch its contents to her lips. But Bragi drank up all his father had left, and immediately began to sing a magnificent chant. From that time he was called the god of poetry.
Bragi was not stingy with his treasure, but gave some of it to men, and thus the invention of the good Kvasir was used as he would have used it had he lived; and men learned to write, and to sing.
The greatest of the gods, next to Odin, was his son Thor. He was the god of tempests. He held thunderbolts shut up in his fists, and flung lightning from his fingers’ ends. He had a mighty hammer with which he reconstructed the world after Ymer had been killed. He splintered up the mountains, and made them all over again, and he knocked away at the crust of the earth, and made valleys and caves, and sometimes he amused himself by splitting open the earth, and tumbling a mountain or two into the abyss. And that was the way earthquakes came about. He made holes in some of the mountains, and let the imprisoned fire out of them.
Odin gave Thor three wonderful gifts. The first was his great hammer. It would go out of his hand to do his bidding, and then return of its own accord. The second was a pair of iron gloves. He had only to put these on, and his spear would come back into his hand after having destroyed his victim. The third was a war belt, which made him stronger than any other being while he wore it.
It is no great wonder that with all these things to help him Thor succeeded in killing off Ymer, and his race of giants, for he did most of this work.
But, you remember, in the account given of the destruction of the giants, and the land and sea monsters, that one giant escaped, and the wolf Fenris, and the great sea-serpent, Iormungandur. And, by these three, after a great number of years, Odin and his gods came to grief.
The gods all understood that their fates depended upon the god of love, the bright and beautiful Balder. If he died they must die. Think then how troubled they must have been, when, one day, they heard a great cry ringing through the earth, and up to the very top of the ash tree, where was placed their highest heaven, called Walhalla. This piercing cry was: “Balder, fair Balder is going to die!” They had never thought before that their beloved Balder could die, but now they were sore afraid, not only for him, but for themselves. They were told by some wise woman that Balder would surely die unless all substances that could inflict death were made powerless. Upon hearing this his mother, Frigg, travelled over the whole world, and asked the rocks, and the pebbles, frost and rain, and wood and iron; everything, in short, to spare her son. And they all promised not to hurt him.
There was great joy among the gods when Frigg returned with this good news. So Balder was not to die, after all. And there was a great feast held in Walhalla to celebrate the glad tiding. In the midst of the merriment it was proposed to try some of these things that had promised not to hurt Balder, to see how they would avoid injuring him. One of the gods threw a clod of earth at Balder, and it broke into a cloud of dust before it reached him. Another poured a pitcher of water over him, and the water formed a cascade over him without wetting his clothes. Then they tried more dangerous weapons; a rock; a club; a sword; and Vali shot an arrow at him. All passed by him, or fell harmless. Even Thor’s mighty hammer refused to hit Balder.
At last a brother of Balder’s approached, holding in his hand a small bunch of leaves. All laughed at the sight of this harmless weapon. But alas! when the leaves struck Balder’s breast he fell, and died instantly. They were mistletoe leaves, and when Frigg had asked the oak tree to spare her son, she forgot to ask the mistletoe, which grows upon the oak. So the mistletoe had given no promise; and now Balder was dead. The brother who had thrown the leaves was greatly distressed, and all Walhalla was filled with mourning.
Balder being dead, the other gods must die. The giant, who had escaped Thor’s hammer, killed some of them, and others died in various ways. Finally Thor was killed by the sea-serpent; and the great Odin was torn in pieces by the wolf Fenris.
And that was the end of the Scandinavian gods.
Then the Druid priests brought their religion into the country; and, after many years, the Romans came, and taught the Scandinavians the gospel of Jesus Christ.
WORK AND WATER.
It is so easy for most of us to get a drink of water when we feel thirsty, that we are not apt to even think of the vast amount of thought and labor and money that is necessary in many parts of every country in the world in order to give people a glass or a cup of water when they want it.
And yet water is often a very costly thing, so much so indeed that there are lands where people, and civilized people too, cannot afford a drink of it every time they feel thirsty.
If we live in the country we go to our well, or our spring, or our pump from the cistern, and we get all the water we want. If we live in the city we have our hydrants, and perhaps have the water carried to every floor of the house. This is because we are Americans, and, as a nation, we believe that we cannot spend too much money in making ourselves comfortable, and having thing’s convenient around us.
We build great reservoirs and conduct into them the pure water from the streams, often far distant from our cities, and we have pipes running through every street, and into every house, so that even the poorest people can always have plenty of water, no matter what else they may have to go without.
But in many countries that were civilized and enlightened long before America was ever thought of, there are to-day no such conveniences for obtaining a drink of water.
In some places in Europe water is carried about from house to house, as the milk-man brings us milk, and some of the plans of carrying it are very curious.
In parts of Holland where the canals serve as roads, there are water-boats, that go up and down the canals serving water to everyone who wishes to buy it, and has money to pay for it. And sometimes it is pretty stale water when the last families get their supply. But people who are not used to Croton water, or Schuylkill, or Cochituate water do not seem to care much for this. They are glad enough to get water at all.
In other parts of Europe, and in this continent too, the water is carried about by men and women.
In the opposite picture you may see how some of these water-carriers supply their customers.
In Malaga a jaunty Spaniard with a cigar in his mouth, and two jars of water hanging from his shoulders and arms, walks up and down the streets selling the precious fluid at so much a quart or a pint.
In Pongo the water is conveyed in a great leathern jar on the back of a stout, bare-legged fellow who carries a long funnel, so that he can pour the water into the pitcher and pails without taking his jar from his shoulders.
In parts of Mexico the jars are fastened to broad straps which pass around the water-carrier’s head, while in Guaymas, the carrier has no load at all himself, but puts two great skins of water on the back of a little donkey.
The French water-carrier has a stick on his shoulders with a pail of water on each end; and when one shoulder is tired he can shift his load to the other, which is, perhaps, the next best thing to having a donkey.
But the water-carriers of Arabia and Egypt, who very often are women, are the most graceful and in some respects the most sensible of all. They carry their jar of water on their heads.
As this makes it necessary for them to keep themselves very erect, it gives them fine, straight figures, and a graceful walk. The disadvantage of their plan is that they cannot carry very much water at a time.
Carrying water on the head reminds me of a little negro girl I once saw in the South. This girl had been to a spring to get a pail of water. The pail was so large and the girl was so small that she had a hard time of it as she staggered along, holding the handle of the pail with both hands, and with the greatest difficulty keeping it from touching the ground.
I pitied the poor little creature, for her load was a great deal too heavy for her.
But at length she reached a stump of a tree, and by great efforts she got the pail on the top of this. Then she stooped down and managed to slide the pail from the stump to the crown of her head.
Then she stood up. She was all right! She seemed to forget that she had a load, and skipped away as if she had nothing heavier on her head than a spring bonnet. She did not go directly to the house where she was to carry the water, but trotted over to where some children were playing, and began running around in a perfectly easy and unconcerned way, not appearing to think at all of her pail. But she did not spill a drop of the water.
The Southern negroes are very dexterous in this matter of carrying things on their heads.
On some of the water-melon plantations there may sometimes be seen long lines of men walking from the fields to the boats which are to be loaded with these melons, and each man carries a water-melon under each arm and one on his head.
Sometimes one of these men will drop a water-melon from under his arm, but no one ever drops one from his head.
Such a thing would be considered a disgrace.
I think it is likely that very few of us would ever have a pail of water or a water-melon, if we were obliged to carry either of them very far on our heads.
THE LAND OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT.
This is the kingdom of Siam in Southern Asia. It has this name because the white elephant is the national emblem, and is represented on the Siamese flag, as the eagle is on the American flag.
Siam is a very pleasant country to live in, and a good many Europeans have from time to time had their homes there, so that the Siamese, who seem to be a teachable people, have learned a great deal from them, and have copied some of their ways. The missionaries, too, have done very much to improve the manners and customs of the Siamese. But still they retain many of their old customs, and the result is a queer sort of mixture—in some things the people show themselves to be manly and intelligent, and, in others, they appear very ignorant, and degraded.
For instance, a fine-looking Siamese gentleman will be standing by your side, conversing with you. He is a nobleman of the country, dressed in silk and diamonds. He will talk with you about foreign countries, perhaps about books, and you will be astonished at his information, and will regard him as a very superior man; as, indeed, he is. But suddenly, he will go down on his hands and knees, right in the dust. What has happened? The King has appeared upon the scene! If he wishes to speak to the king this nobleman will crawl up to him on all fours, and, as long as he is in the king’s presence, if it is for two or three hours, he remains in this degrading position. The king may be a very well-informed, and a kind-hearted man, but it has never occurred to him that this old custom of his country is ridiculous and disgraceful.
The Siamese are very fond of ornament. On the next page is a portrait of one of the little princes of the royal family.
His silken suit is covered with gold and silver embroidery, and with rows of precious stones. I hope that high pointed affair he has upon his head is not very heavy. It would be a very inconvenient thing to take off when he wished to make a bow to a lady. But then he never does wish to make a bow to a lady. That is a piece of good manners that no Siamese boy is ever taught.
When this young prince has his meals his attendants crouch before him on their hands and knees. When he wishes anything they crawl towards him with the articles. To stand erect in his presence would be an unheard of impropriety.
When he goes out for an airing he rides upon an elephant. Perhaps you think that would not be a very agreeable way of traveling, but there you are mistaken. The motion of an elephant is very easy, and pleasant to the rider; and it is a much more intelligent animal than the horse, and quite as gentle, and docile. A little child can lead a well-trained, tame elephant. The disadvantage of this kind of steed is that when it does take it into its great head to behave badly, it is sometimes very difficult to control, for it is exceedingly strong, and capable of doing a great deal of mischief. But these trained elephants of the Siamese seldom get into tantrums.
When the young prince takes his ride he has, at least, one attendant to walk by the elephant, and keep things all straight. The prince sits in a little ornamental tower on the beast’s back. From this lofty seat he gets a good view of the surrounding country.
Near Ayuthia, in Siam, there is a large stockade, into which the king’s elephants are driven once a year, and the finest ones are selected for use during the ensuing year. This stockade is made of posts of teak wood, driven firmly into the ground, a few feet apart. In the middle of the enclosure, thus made, is a small tower-like house, built on poles, and surrounded by strong stakes. In this are the men who are to secure the animals after they are chosen.
The king and his nobles are on a raised platform near the stockade; and they select those of the animals that have been driven into the enclosure, that they consider the most desirable.
The fine points in an elephant are these: a color approaching to white or red, black nails on the toes, and tails that have not been injured. Elephants are so fond of fighting each other that it is a rare thing to find one in a herd that has not lost some portion of its tail in a battle.
It occasionally happens, when a hunting party is out, that a white elephant is captured. This is considered a very fortunate circumstance, as the possession of a white elephant by the king is supposed to bring prosperity upon the whole kingdom. The fortunate finder of this precious animal is received with great honor upon his return to court, and is magnificently rewarded.
The elephant is placed in a large enclosure, and treated with great distinction. It is caparisoned with cloth of gold; and is fed with all the dainties that elephants like. Rings of gold are placed on its tusks, and a diadem on its head. When it is sick the court physician attends it, the priests pray for it; and when it dies the whole kingdom mourns.
Of late years the people of Siam have grown less superstitious, and do not pay as many honors to white elephants as they did while in an entirely uncivilized state. But they still retain the white elephant on their flag as the emblem of their country.
CURIOSITIES OF VEGETABLE LIFE.
It is not necessary to travel in order to find a great many curious things in vegetable growth. They lie around us everywhere.
We will find a great deal to surprise us, if we study the habits of the trees and plants about us. Some have very peculiar methods of growth; some go to sleep, and wake up at regular hours; some set little traps for catching insects; some often change the colors of their flowers; and many other curious ways they have.
But men, who travel in various countries, and study the vegetable growth of all climates, meet with very marvelous things indeed. Let us follow them about the world for awhile. But we will have to travel very swiftly, and to skip from one country to another, and back again, perhaps, with great haste.
We will first look at some trees that surprise us by their size.
On Mount Etna, in Sicily, there is a famous chestnut tree. It stands on one of the lower slopes of the mountain, so that it is often visited. There are quite a number of huge chestnut trees in that neighborhood, each of which has a distinctive name. But the “Chestnut of a Hundred Horses” is much larger than any of the others. It is a very, very old tree, and the people who now live near it, are not sure how it first got its name. Some say it was named many years ago by a Spanish queen because its thick wide branches once sheltered her and her party of a hundred horsemen, from the rain. Others say it is so called because a hundred horses can be sheltered within, and around it. It is now the home of a shepherd, who has built a hut for himself, and a fold for his sheep, within the hollow of the tree.
The trunk measures 190 feet around. It looks as if there were several trees growing together, but it is known to be all one tree.
In the centre of a graveyard, in the village of Allouville, in Normandy, there stands an oak that is over nine-hundred years old. Near the ground its trunk measures thirty feet in circumference. Two hundred years ago it was fitted up as a little chapel, and is used for that purpose to this day.
The tree is hollow, as are all these very old trees. The lower part of this hollow is lined with wood, carefully plastered and wainscoted. This is the chapel. Above it, is a second story, and in this room lives a solitary man—a hermit. Above, in the branches, is a belfry, ornamented with a cross.
In another part of France, there is an oak that is known to be fifteen hundred years old. It also is hollow, but every year, like the Hundred Horse Chestnut, and the Allouville Oak, it covers itself with thick and luxuriant foliage. The circumference of this oak is over 80 feet, and its branches spread over a circumference of 380 feet.
The inside of this tree is used for a dining hall by pleasure parties. A circular bench has been cut out of the wood, and a dozen persons can sit comfortably around the table. The room has a glass door, and a window. Beautiful ferns and mosses spring out of the sides of the tree, and decorate this hall.
Not far from Smyrna, in Asia Minor, there is a very old, and a very large Plane tree. It has three stems from one root. These join into one trunk at the height of about twenty feet from the ground, thus forming a gateway. The main road runs right through this gateway, and cavalcades of horsemen, and camel riders, and vehicles pass under this singular arch.