Chapter 1

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

IN TEN VOLUMES

ILLUSTRATED

VOLUME V

The Children's Hour

STORIES FROM SEVEN OLD FAVORITES

Selected & Arranged by Eva March Tappan

Houghton Mifflin Company

Between the dark and the daylight, when the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the days occupations, that is known as the Children's Hour.

CONTENTS

TO THE CHILDREN

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE _John Bunyan_

A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER _John Bunyan_

AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL _John Bunyan_

CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON _John Bunyan_

THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR _John Bunyan_

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS _John Bunyan_

THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY _John Bunyan_

THE CELESTIAL CITY _John Bunyan_

ROBINSON CRUSOE

ROBINSON CRUSOE IS SHIPWRECKED _Daniel Defoe_

UNLOADING A WRECK _Daniel Defoe_

ROBINSON CRUSOE'S FIRST HOME ON THE ISLAND _Daniel Defoe_

ROBINSON CRUSOE BUILDS A BOAT _Daniel Defoe_

THE MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT _Daniel Defoe_

THE COMING OF FRIDAY _Daniel Defoe_

HOMEWARD BOUND _Daniel Defoe_

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS

GULLIVER IS SHIPWRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT _Jonathan Swift_

GULLIVER SEIZES THE ENEMY'S FLEET _Jonathan Swift_

A LILLIPUTIAN ODE TO THE MAN-MOUNTAIN _Jonathan Swift_

AMONG THE BROBDINGNAGIAN GIANTS _Jonathan Swift_

ADVENTURES IN BROBDINGNAG _Jonathan Swift_

GULLIVER'S ESCAPE _Jonathan Swift_

DON QUIXOTE

DON QUIXOTE DETERMINES TO BECOME A KNIGHT _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE INNKEEPER'S BILL _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE BATTLE OF THE SHEEP _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE CONQUEST OF MAMBRINO'S HELMET _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

DON QUIXOTE'S BATTLE WITH THE GIANTS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

DON QUIXOTE MEETS THE LIONS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE RIDE ON THE WOODEN HORSE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE THREE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND ODD LASHES _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE RETURN AND DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS

THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP

ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES

SINDBAD THE SAILOR

THE TRAVELS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN

THE BARON'S FIRST WANDERINGS _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S JOURNEY TO ST. PETERSBURG _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S WONDERFUL HORSE _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S COLD DAY _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS _Charles and Mary Lamb_

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE _Charles and Mary Lamb_

THE TEMPEST _Charles and Mary Lamb_

ILLUSTRATIONS

FERDINAND AND ARIEL _Sir John Everett Millais_

CHRISTIAN IS HARNESSED FOR THE PILGRIMAGE _David Scott, R.S.A._

CAUGHT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ASLEEP _David Scott, R.S.A._

THE SECOND RAFT _J. Finnemore_

THE PRINT OF A MAN'S NAKED FOOT ON THE SHORE _J. Finnemore_

PRODUCING HIS CREDENTIALS _T. Morten_

THE HUGE CREATURE TROD SHORT _T. Morten_

HURLED AWAY BOTH KNIGHT AND HORSE _Gustave Doré_

A HIDEOUS GENIE OF GIGANTIC SIZE APPEARED _Robert Smirke, R.A._

THE GREAT HEAPS OF GOLD DAZZLED HER EYES _Robert Smirke, R.A._

PURSUED BY THE ROCS _J.D. Batten_

THE LION JUMPED FORWARD INTO THE CROCODILE'S MOUTH _Gustave Doré_

THE VESSEL WILL BE DASHED TO PIECES _G. Romney_

TO THE CHILDREN

This volume is made up of stories from seven famous books. These books are as different as they can possibly be; and yet there are not many boys and girls who do not like every one of them. The chief reason for this is because they seem so true, so much more "real" than most other stories. When you read about Tom Thumb, for instance, you do not really believe that there ever was a little boy no bigger than his mother's thumb; at least, you do not believe it in the same way that you believe the sun shines or the wind blows; but when you read "Robinson Crusoe," you feel as if every word of it must be true.

The first of these books is "The Pilgrim's Progress." In one way it is a little like a fable; that is, when you read it the first time, it is simply a good story. Afterwards--sometimes a long while afterwards--you read it again or sit thinking about it, and suddenly you see that it has another meaning, that it is more than the story of a man who makes a wonderful journey. This book was written in jail by a man named John Bunyan. The English laws of that time would not allow any one to preach except clergymen of the Church of England. Bunyan, however, felt that it would be wicked for him to obey these laws, so he kept on preaching. He was thrown into prison, and the prisons of those days were horrible places. "If you will promise not to preach again, you shall be free," said the officers. "If you let me out to-day I will preach again to-morrow," declared Bunyan; and meanwhile he preached to the other prisoners. He thought of his wife and children and of how little he could do to support them while he was in jail; he thought of his little blind daughter Mary; but still he said to himself, "I must, I must do it." For twelve long years he stayed in prison. He made tags for shoe laces to sell to help his family; and he wrote the book that has been read by more people than any other volume except the Bible.

The second book, "Robinson Crusoe," was written by Daniel Defoe; and he, too, knew what it was to be in jail. He was not imprisoned for preaching, but for his political writings. Once when he had written a pamphlet that did not please the authorities, he was condemned to stand in the pillory. The people took his part, and, instead of throwing stones at him, they dropped roses about him and bought thousands of copies of a poem that he had written while in jail.

He wrote many books, but his best, "Robinson Crusoe," was produced after he had become a middle-aged man and had some money and a big, homely house with plenty of ground for his favorite gardening. The way the book came to be written was this. A sailor named Alexander Selkirk spent more than four years alone on the island of Juan Fernandez. When he was rescued and brought to England, many people went to gaze at him in his goatskin clothes and to hear him talk about his life on the island. Defoe went with the others, and he never forgot the stories told by the sailor in goatskins. Seven years later he worked in his garden and thought about the desert island. Then he went into his house and wrote the book that everybody likes, "Robinson Crusoe."

"Gulliver's Travels" was written by an Irish clergyman named Jonathan Swift. He was a strange man. Some people said he was a genius, and some said he had always been a little insane. When he wrote, he often seemed to care for nothing but to say the most cutting, scornful things that he could. There was one class of persons, however, who loved him from the bottom of their hearts, and they were the poor people about his home in Ireland. It is true that he sometimes scolded them, but they saw straight through his grumbling and understood that he really cared for them and wanted to help them, and they loved him and trusted him. He lived more than two hundred years ago, but the Irish have never forgotten him; and even to this day, if you should wander about in Ireland, you would see in many a little cottage people gathered around the fire, telling over and over the stories that their grandmothers had told them of his kind heart and his peculiar ways.

"The Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels" were all written by men of the British Isles, but our fourth book, "Don Quixote," was written by a Spaniard named Cervantes. He was a soldier part of his life and as valiant a fighter as his own hero. For five years he was a prisoner of war; he was poor and sick and in one trouble after another; but he was always brave and cheerful and good-humored. In his day, the Spaniards read few books except queer old romances of chivalry, the sort of tale in which a great champion goes out with his squire to wander over the world in search of adventures. He makes thieves give back what they have stolen, he sets prisoners free, he rescues beautiful maidens who have been dragged away from their homes; in short, he roams about making people do whatever he thinks proper. Sometimes he takes a castle all by himself, sometimes he gets the better of a whole group of champions or a host of giants or even a dragon or two. Cervantes's book makes fun of such tales as these. His hero attacks a terrible company of giants standing on a plain all ready to destroy him; but the giants prove to be windmills, and their sails give him many a heavy blow before his fight with them is over. Another time, he finds the giants in his very bedroom; and the courageous knight cuts off their heads as fast as he can swing his sword. Blood flows like water; only when a light is brought, it does not prove to be blood but--well, it is not fair to tell the rest of the story. We must let Cervantes do that for himself in "Don Quixote's Battle with the Giants."

The fifth book, the "Arabian Nights," is a mystery. We do not know who composed the stories or who brought them together in one collection. We cannot even tell where they came from. The most we can say positively is that two hundred years ago a Frenchman traveling through the East came across them in some Arabian manuscripts and translated them into French. Whether they came in the first place from Arabia or Persia or India, whether they were composed five or six hundred years ago or at least one thousand, no one can say. Many learned scholars have tried in vain to answer these questions; but if we had to choose between having the stories and knowing who wrote them, I do not believe that any boy or girl who had read even one of them would find it difficult to make a choice.

The sixth book, "The Travels of Baron Munchausen," is said to have been written by a German named Raspé; but it is just as well not to believe this statement too positively, for it is quite possible that Raspé had nothing to do with the book. Learned scholars have held profound discussions on the source of the stories. One in particular, that of the frozen tunes which began to play of themselves as soon as they thawed, has been found in some form in several countries. The best match for the Baron's version is the old tale of the merchants who set out one day to buy furs. When they came to a river, they saw the fur dealers standing on the opposite shore. The dealers held up their furs and seemed to be shouting their prices, but it was so cold that the words froze in the air. Then the merchants went out on the ice and built a great fire. It warmed the air overhead, and the words thawed and came down. But long before this, the dealers had gone home. The merchants thought the prices too high, so they, too, went home; and that was the end of the tale. The "Travels" is full of stories as absurd as this, but told in such a way that while you are reading them, and sometimes for as much as five minutes afterwards, you feel as if they were really true.

The seventh and last of the books is the plays of Shakespeare. A play always contains a story, and it is the stories of some of Shakespeare's dramas that are given here. In the real plays there is much more than stories, however, because Shakespeare was not only a story-teller but also a poet. A poet must express what he sees and thinks in a way to give pleasure and he must see more than other people. Now when Shakespeare puts a thought into words, we find that no one else has expressed it so well. Moreover, he sees more clearly than any other writer how a person would feel and behave in various circumstances. As we read the plays, we say to ourselves of one character after another, "That is just the way I should feel if I were that person." We think of them as real people. We talk of what they would have done if circumstances had been different. It is only a great genius who can make out of words characters that seem almost as real as the people around us, but this is what William Shakespeare has done.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE

_By John Bunyan_

In process of time _Christian_ got up to the Gate. Now over the Gate there was written, _Knock and it shall be opened unto you_. He knocked therefore more then once or twice, saying,--

"May I now enter here? Will he within Open to sorry me, though I have bin An undeserving Rebel? Then shall I Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave Person to the Gate named _Good-Will_, who asked Who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?

_Chr._ Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of _Destruction_, but am going to Mount _Zion_, that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I would therefore, Sir, since I am informed that by this Gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in.

_Good-Will._ I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the Gate.

So when _Christian_ was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said _Christian_, What means that? The other told him, A little distance from this Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, of which _Beelzebub_ is the Captain; from thence both he and they that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this Gate, if haply they may dye before they can enter in. Then said _Christian_, I rejoyce and tremble. So when he was got in, the Man of the Gate asked him, Who directed him thither?

_Chr._ _Evangelist_ bid me come hither and knock (as I did); and he said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.

_Good-Will._ An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.

_Chr._ Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

_Good-Will._ But how is it that you came alone?

_Chr._ Because none of my Neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

_Good-Will._ Did any of them know of your coming?

_Chr._ Yes, my Wife and Children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn again; also some of my Neighbours stood crying and calling after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way.

_Good-Will._ But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back?

_Chr._ Yes, both _Obstinate_ and _Pliable_; but when they saw that they could not prevail, _Obstinate_ went railing back, but _Pliable_ came with me a little way.

_Good-Will._ But why did he not come through?

_Chr._ We indeed came both together, until we came at the Slow of _Dispond_, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my Neighbour _Pliable_ discouraged, and would not adventure further. Wherefore getting out again on that side next to his own house, he told me I should possess the brave countrey alone for him; so he went _his_ way, and I came _mine_: he after _Obstinate_, and I to this Gate.

_Good-Will._ Then said _Good-Will_, Alas, poor man, is the Coelestial Glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it?

_Chr._ Truly, said _Christian_, I have said the truth of _Pliable_, and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment 'twixt him and myself. 'T is true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. _Worldly Wiseman_.

_Good-Will._ O, did he light upon you? What! he would have had you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr. _Legality_. They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take his counsel?

_Chr._ Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out Mr. _Legality_, until I thought that the Mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.

_Good-Will._ That Mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many more; 't is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces.

_Chr._ Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not _Evangelist_ happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but 't was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that Mountain than thus to stand talking with my Lord; but O, what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here!

_Good-Will._ We make no objections against any; notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither, they in no wise are cast out; and therefore, good _Christian_, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was cast up by the Patriarchs, Prophets, Christ, his Apostles; and it is as straight as a rule can make it: This is the way thou must go.

_Chr._ But said _Christian_, Is there no turnings nor windings, by which a Stranger may lose the way?

_Good-Will._ Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and wide: But thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, _that_ only being straight and narrow.

Then I saw in my Dream, that _Christian_ asked him further If he could not help him off with his Burden that was upon his back; for as yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without help.

He told him, As to the Burden, be content to bear it, until thou comest to the place of _Deliverance_; for there it will fall from thy back itself.

Then _Christian_ began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his Journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some distance from the Gate, he would come at the House of the _Interpreter_, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then _Christian_ took his leave of his Friend, and he again bid him God speed.

A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER

_By John Bunyan_

Then _Christian_ went on till he came at the House of the _Interpreter_, where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the door, and asked Who was there?

_Chr._ Sir, here is a Travailler, who was bid by an acquaintance of the Good-man of this house to call here for my profit; I would therefore speak with the Master of the House. So he called for the Master of the house, who after a little time came to _Christian_, and asked him what he would have?

_Chr._ Sir, said _Christian_, I am a man that am come from the City of _Destruction_, and am going to the Mount _Zion_; and I was told by the Man that stands at the Gate, at the head of this way, that if I called here, you would shew me excellent things, such as would be an help to me in my Journey.

_Inter._ Then said the _Interpreter_, Come in, I will shew thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the Candle, and bid _Christian_ follow him: so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, _Christian_ saw the Picture of a very grave Person hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in its hand, the Law of Truth was written upon its lips, the World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over his head.

_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?

_Inter._ The Man whose Picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can beget Children, travel in birth with Children, and nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with eyes lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of Truth writ on his lips, it is to shew thee that his work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with Men; and whereas thou seest the World as cast behind him, and that a Crown hangs over his head, that is to shew thee that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have Glory for his reward. Now, said the _Interpreter_, I have shewed thee this Picture first, because the Man whose Picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy Guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way; wherefore take good heed to what I have shewed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy Journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large _Parlour_ that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed a little while, the _Interpreter_ called for a man to sweep. Now when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that _Christian_ had almost therewith been choaked. Then said the _Interpreter_ to a _Damsel_ that stood by, Bring hither the Water, and sprinkle the Room; the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?

_Inter._ The _Interpreter_ answered, This _Parlour_ is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet Grace of the Gospel: the _dust_ is his Original Sin and inward Corruptions, that have defiled the whole Man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but She that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas thou sawest that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the Room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choaked therewith; this is to shew thee, that the Law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, put strength into, and increase it in the soul, as it doth discover and forbid it, but doth not give power to subdue.

Again, as thou sawest the _Damsel_ sprinkle the room with Water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to shew thee, that when the Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then I say, even as thou sawest the Damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with Water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, through the Faith of it, and consequently fit for the King of Glory to inhabit.