Part 13

Stefan thought at first that the shrewd old fellow's chuckle of delight was a tribute to his and Agatha's achievement. But he was soon enlightened as to its real source. Old Shelton bestowed hearty praise on the little house and neat garden, he congratulated him in advance for the morrow, but his small eyes fairly snapped as he added, tapping his own pocket.

"Ye'v spent a pile of money on all this there, and I s'pose you ain't got much left--I got somepin here that 'ud interest ye."

It was the answer to Stefan's unuttered question. He started as old Shelton pulled out from his pocket two yellowish, stiff folders with much black lettering upon them, which, when opened by Shelton's toil-worn fingers, disclosed a number of large square stamps pasted on the printed squares. Agatha, woman-like, was quick to inquire. Old Shelton explained with zest.

He showed them first the Thrift card with its green twenty-five cent stamps. "I got them at odd times, at the post office," he told them with his exultant chuckle. "These here," showing the Savings Certificates with blue five-dollar stamps, "I bought right out when I saw what a sure thing it was. Safe as Uncle Sam's Capitol at Washington. Can't never bust up, these can't. No, siree! Long as this here country holds out, these here stamps are worth the coin! And look at the money ye make on 'em."

And he explained the process by which today's purchaser of a blue stamp would be the possessor of a five-dollar note when the stamps matured at the end of five years. "Only four-nineteen, ye see," he pointed with a horny finger. "Only four-nineteen today, but five good round dollars in five years. Ye can't beat that, I tell ye. Not to be safe and sound, ye understand."

Stefan and Agatha looked at each other. They knew old Shelton to be the shrewdest, most cautious man in the community. In a moment they knew what they should do with the modest roll of bills. The safe place had been found. The United States Treasury was the only spot.

"As safe as Vavel!" murmured Stefan as the old farmer after repeated congratulations and chuckled approval of the young people's eager acceptance of his gospel of thrift, disappeared down the long road.

"As safe as Vavel," he repeated, and a great surge of joyful relief flooded his very soul.

He put his arm about Agatha and they turned their faces toward the sunset glow. In the dim glory of the skies they saw the steadfast gleam of their own dear hearth-fire.

"The good God has shown us the way," they said.

--_Casimir A. Sienkiewicz. Courtesy Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia._

This story can be easily divided into a definite series of shorter stories. The titles of these shorter stories will serve as an outline. Look over the selection quickly, and write the outline.

QUESTIONS

Even government bonds and thrift stamps have to be guarded so that they will not be lost, burned, or stolen.

Where is the safest place to keep such valuable things as liberty bonds and thrift stamps? How much does it cost to rent a safe place for your savings? Where can you rent one in your town?

UNPATRIOTIC CARELESSNESS

Are you careless? That makes you stop and think a bit, doesn't it? If you are honest with yourself, the answer probably will be "_Yes_," for almost everybody in this country is careless. That is the principal reason why we have so many fires.

Here are some figures that should open our eyes. In 1913, the year before the outbreak of the war, the average fire-loss for each man, woman and child in France was 49 cents; in England it was 33 cents; in Germany, 28 cents; in Austria, 25 cents; in Italy, 25 cents; in Switzerland, 15 cents; and in Holland, only 11 cents. In the United States for the same year the direct loss was $2.10--and the indirect loss was far higher. Our record was, therefore, more than four times as bad as that of France, and nearly twenty times as bad as that of Holland.

Vienna and Chicago are cities of about the same size. Vienna had fire losses for the year 1913 of $303,200; Chicago's were $5,513,237, or more than eighteen times as great. New York City's fire losses were about four and one-half times as large as those of London. A similar comparison might be made with many other cities. Can we be proud of such figures?

Of course there are more wooden buildings in America than in Europe. This is a condition which will take many years to change. But the most serious cause of fires could be removed at once, if all the people would assist; this cause is found in one word--_carelessness_.

It must be admitted that the United States, with all its advantages, is a nation of careless people. Carelessness is not a thing to be proud of; it is a great national sin. It shows itself in many habits of recklessness, wastefulness, and untidiness. It burns our towns; it leads people to risk their lives at railroad crossings and other places of danger; it takes chances with health; it is shown in all dirty streets, littered back yards, and untidy homes. It has been well described by Roy K. Moulton, a writer in the "_News_" of Grand Rapids, Michigan, as follows:

_WHO AM I?_

I am more powerful than the combined armies of the world.

I am more deadly than bullets, and I have wrecked more homes than the mightiest of siege guns.

I steal in the United States alone over $300,000,000 each year.

I spare no one, and find my victims among the rich and poor alike, the young and old, the strong and the weak; widows and orphans know me.

I massacre thousands upon thousands of wage-earners in a year.

I lurk in unseen places, and do most of my work silently. You are warned against me, but you heed not.

I am relentless. I am everywhere; in the home, on the street, in the factory, at railroad crossings, and on the sea.

I bring sickness, degradation and death, and yet few seek to avoid me.

I destroy, crush and maim; I give nothing, but take all.

I am your worst enemy.

I AM CARELESSNESS.

If a foreign army should land upon our shores, it could not wreak more destruction than this. If such an army should come and any American were found to be giving it aid, he would be called a traitor to his country. Every patriot would rise against such a foe.

The spirit of carelessness in the United States is really a greater enemy than any foreign invader, and it is found in millions of little unconscious acts of carelessness. Whenever you, yourself, commit such an act, therefore, you really range yourself as an enemy of your country, but if you begin earnestly to watch your actions and to form new habits of carefulness, you will be helping our great nation to become safer, healthier, happier, and more useful to humanity. This is the spirit of true patriotism.

If, then, you are determined to try with all your might to form these new habits of carefulness, the first great step toward preventing fire will have been taken.

--_National Board of Fire Underwriters._

QUESTIONS

When you have finished reading, write the answers to these questions. If you can not answer immediately, find the answer somewhere in the story, but do not read it all again; read only enough to get the correct answer.

1. What two reasons can you find to account for the greater loss by fire in the United States than in Europe?

2. Which of these two reasons can be the more quickly removed? Which one can you help to remove?

3. What other bad results besides fires come from our great national sin?

4. Do you think it is fair to call a careless person unpatriotic? Why?

A MEMORY TEST

Can you memorize by one careful reading these five lines which tell of the great result of a small piece of carelessness?

For want of a nail the shoe was lost; For want of a shoe the horse was lost; For want of the horse the rider was lost; For want of the rider the battle was lost; For want of the battle a kingdom was lost.

CALIPH FOR ONE DAY

This story, "Caliph for One Day," is a tale from "The Arabian Nights". If you have never read this story, you will find it very interesting. Of course you have heard of Ali Baba, and of Aladdin with his wonderful lamp, and of the Old Man of the Sea.

Your teacher would like to know which of you have read any of the "Arabian Nights" tales and which of these tales you have read.

You ought to try to read such stories as this rapidly. To some extent the rapidity with which you read is a habit. Every one forms his own habits; and if you will try hard you can form habits that will be useful to you as long as you live. One of these habits is that of reading rapidly.

The sun was just setting, and its last rays gilded the roofs and towers of the City of Bagdad, on the river Tigris; and far away, also, on the ripples of the river fell the evening light, and the numerous boats and ships which moved about on the surface of the water seemed to plough through melted gold. On the railing of a high bridge which led over the Tigris leaned a young man, who now turned his face towards the sparkling water, now towards the people passing over the bridge. His attention, however, appeared to be given less to the inhabitants of the city than to those who might be taken for strangers through their appearance and behavior. The eyes of many a passer-by were turned also upon him, and it seemed many times as if one or another of them wished to approach him. But a stern, repelling glance from the young man had the effect, each time of making them go on their way after a slight hesitation, shaking the head.

Suddenly two men drew near. The first of them seemed, judging from his clothing, to be a rich business man from the city of Mussal; the second, who followed him at some distance, was apparently his servant. When the man waiting upon the bridge saw them come up to him, he straightened up and went to meet them. Greeting respectfully the man who was apparently a merchant, he said: "Sir, if, as I assume, you are a stranger in this city, I beg you to come home with me and sleep in my house."

As the stranger seemed rather taken by surprise, he continued: "I am called 'Queer Abu Hassan', and live in my own house. I have made it my duty for some time to take a stranger home with me every evening as my guest, and entertain him there as well as I can until the following morning. You would do me a great honor if you would accept my invitation."

The stranger was no one else than the Caliph Harun Alrashid, who was thus caught on one of his favorite wanderings through the city accompanied by one of his slaves.

After a few kindly words he agreed, called his servant to him, and both joined Abu Hassan, who soon brought them to his house not far away. Here he bade them lie down and make themselves at home. Soon a servant appeared and brought their supper. It consisted of several well prepared dishes, and seemed to please both strangers very well. All kinds of fruit were placed upon the table for dessert, and after the meal was finished they had a lively conversation, in which Abu Hassan's mother took part when she came in to greet the guests. Although neither she nor her son had any idea of the lofty position of their guest, they bustled around him so pleasantly and kindly that Harun stretched himself out comfortably on a divan and took his share in the talk with real enjoyment. At last the Caliph requested Abu Hassan to tell him his history. And so the host of the evening began as follows:

"I am the son of a very rich merchant, who died only too young, and I had a good education as a boy. But if my father made any mistake at that time, it was that he gave me very little money, and so prevented my learning how to spend more wisely, which must really be learned in order to be done properly. So, after his death, I devoted myself to this occupation with a number of other young fellows, and enjoyed myself at such a rate that I soon had got rid of a great part of my property. Fortunately I saw soon enough the abyss into which my way of living must lead me. For this reason I drew back, but first decided to test my friends and see whether they were true or not. I told them that I had gone through all my money, and asked them to help me. Not one of them gave me a reassuring answer. Furthermore, they avoided me, and acted on the street as if they had never known me. This contemptible behavior hurt me so deeply, that I came near to hating the whole human race. But after I had lived a long time in melancholy loneliness, I pulled myself together again, and decided to go out among people once more. I promised myself, however, never again to invite a friend, but only strangers, and never to keep one longer than one night in my house, and if I ever saw them again to act as if I had never seen them. So this evening, just before I saw you, I turned away from several persons who had been my guests before, and who were about to speak to me."

The Caliph laughed, and said: "No one can blame you under such circumstances, and because of your extraordinary experience."

After Abu Hassan's mother had retired the young man brought out a bottle of his best wine, and presented a glass of it to the Caliph, after first politely tasting it. The Caliph drank to him, and asked Abu if he could not do him a favor in return for his kind hospitality. But Abu answered with a smile: "You understand, sir, that I do not count upon recognition, and to-morrow morning will not know you any more."

"That's so," laughed Harun; "but I had forgotten it. You can, however, pay no further attention to me if you wish, and yet if it is distasteful to you to ask a favor for yourself, request a helping hand to be given to somebody else."

"Sir," cried Abu Hassan, "my friends were not of the quality that I would want to do anything for them, nor will I harm them, either. So I would not know what wish I could make. But wait!" he broke out suddenly. "There is one wish which I have often thought of and will tell you of, although you cannot fulfil it, and perhaps will find it extremely ridiculous. But you will at least understand why people call me 'Queer Abu Hassan'."

"Let's hear it," said the Caliph.

Abu Hassan sighed, and announced: "Just for one day I would like to be Caliph."

"And what influences you to this wish?" asked Harun. "Would you carry out some important law in the State? Or look out for yourself immediately?"

"Neither one nor the other," answered Queer Abu Hassan. "I would just like to have some scamps among my neighbors thoroughly beaten."

"And you would like to be caliph merely for this purpose?" laughed Harun Alrashid.

"Certainly, sir," replied Abu Hassan, "because I cannot get a suitable punishment measured out to them in any other way. Since they are rascals, they would easily get away from the judge to whom I might denounce them."

"Do you think so?" asked the Caliph.

"They would the more surely avoid punishment," said Abu Hassan, "because their ringleader is a holy Imam of respected appearance, whom the judge would never believe capable of any wrong action, and yet they slander all the respectable people in this quarter of the city, and try by using every means to gain an influence over the consciences of the Faithful, while they themselves pay but scant attention to the laws of the Koran."

"Well," said the Caliph, as he tried to calm Abu Hassan, who had worked himself up to a rage, "perhaps your wish to see these scoundrels properly punished will come true in some way, even if you are not the Commander of the Faithful. Let us drink to the realization of your wish."

The Caliph seized the bottle and filled the glasses full, at the same time dropping a pinch of white powder into Abu Hassan's glass without his noticing it.

Hardly had they drank it off before Abu Hassan nodded his head and fell into a deep sleep. The Caliph immediately called his slave, and ordered him to take the sleeping man on his shoulders and bear him to the palace. Then he left Abu Hassan's house, pulling the door to, but not shutting it.

Once arrived at his palace, Harun Alrashid ordered Abu Hassan to be clothed in a splendid night robe and laid in the Caliph's own costly bed. Then the officers, servants, slaves, and slave women received the strictest orders to carry out Abu Hassan's commissions faithfully next morning, and, above all, to treat him as if he were the Commander of the Faithful.

You can imagine Abu Hassan's astonishment when he woke up next morning in the splendid bed and looked around at the room so beautifully decorated with gold and expensive wall hangings. At first he thought he was dreaming. He kept opening and closing his eyes, trying to find out for sure if he were asleep or awake. Still greater was his amazement when he caught sight of a garment of woven gold near his bed, and a caliph's cap on a silken cushion. But yet he could not believe that these were all real things, and he had to convince himself by feeling them that he was not in a world of dreams.

"Where am I, then?" he cried. "What has happened to me? Everything looks as if I were in the Caliph's palace. Or have I become Caliph myself over night?"

While scolding himself for his foolish thoughts, he was trying all the time to go to sleep again. But suddenly the lofty double doors of his chamber opened, and a troop of wonderfully beautiful women and black slaves stepped in. One band of women began to sing and play charming music on different instruments. The others threw themselves down before him, and one of the black slaves stepped to the bedside and said: "Commander of the Faithful, it is time for early prayers. May it please you to get up?"

"Whether I'm Caliph or not, I will get up at least just to see how this adventure turns out!"

Hardly did he show his intention of raising himself when the slaves jumped in a hurry to help him, and to dress him in the golden morning gown. At the same time all those present shouted: "Commander of the Faithful, God give you a blessed day!"

Now, this was too much for poor Abu Hassan. He called one of the women to him, and said: "Please bite my finger, so I can see if I am dreaming or not."

The slave that he called knew that Harun Alrashid was watching everything from the next room, and wished to amuse the real Commander of the Faithful. So she bit Abu Hassan's finger sharply. The quickness with which Abu Hassan pulled back his finger made the hidden Caliph almost split his sides with laughing, and he congratulated himself that he had found such an enjoyable diversion by carrying his plan through. He said to himself: "Abu Hassan could hardly be more curious than I am to know how the story will end."

But Abu Hassan was thinking: "I cannot understand this surprising change, but it seems to me that the queer Hassan of yesterday has become the real Caliph of today." So he let them put his clothes on him without resistance, and with a certain dignified manner which the Caliph noticed with great pleasure. Then they washed his head, face and hands with deliciously scented water. Finally the Grand Vizier announced, with many a bow of respect, that the great people of the court and of the realm were assembled and expecting the appearance of the Commander of the Faithful. So Abu Hassan drew himself up to his full height, and, preceded by armed soldiers and a number of chamberlains resplendent in gold, walked to the great throne room, where he was led to the throne by the chamberlains.

The doors of the hall opened, and the Commanders-in-Chief of the Army, the Governors of the Provinces and the nobles of the country marched in in a wonderful parade and greeted Abu Hassan as Caliph. They stepped forward to the throne, dropped on their knees, and touched the carpet before him with their foreheads. Abu Hassan took all of this as quietly as if he had been Caliph since youth. He listened to the Grand Vizier's address, took part in the consultations over matters of state, and decided difficult points with such a sound understanding of human nature that the real Caliph, who stood disguised among the officers, was greatly pleased. Suddenly Abu Hassan made a sign to the Grand Vizier to interrupt his address.

"Where is the Chief of Police of our capital city?" he cried. "Let him be brought here immediately."

When the man called for had appeared and announced himself, "at the command of his mighty master," Abu said: "In the mosque of the new quarter you will find an Imam and four other old men. I wish you to arrest them and give each one hundred stripes with the bastinado. Then let them be mounted backwards on camels and led through the city accompanied by a herald, who shall call out these words: 'In this way the Commander of the Faithful punishes those who meddle in matters that do not concern them, and who know nothing better to do than bring trouble and pain to their neighbors.' After this sentence is completed, however, you are then to tell them that they must leave that quarter of the city, and not set foot in it again under penalty of death."

While the magistrate hurried away to carry out Abu Hassan's command, the Grand Vizier went on with his address. An hour later the Chief of Police came back with the news that the Caliph's orders had been conscientiously fulfilled, at which Abu Hassan felt the greatest satisfaction, while Harun Alrashid thoroughly enjoyed seeing his substitute arrive so quickly at the realization of his long cherished wish.

After the business matters were finished, there took place another stately reception of numerous foreign ambassadors, and finally the new Caliph betook himself with his whole court to dinner. It consisted of a selection of the most delicate food and wine, and lasted late into the evening, with music and all kinds of dancing.

Abu Hassan had behaved in such a dignified manner for all this time that now he showed every favor to the people in his neighborhood, and even condescended to talk with the slaves. It was fairly late when one of the most beautiful of the slave girls came up to Abu Hassan and offered him a glass of the sweetest wine prepared especially for the Caliph. Abu Hassan was charmed, and had not any suspicion that the delicious mixture contained a potent sleeping powder. He drank it off, and in a few minutes fell into a sound sleep.

As quickly as he was brought away the day before, just so speedily now was he transported into his own dwelling. Next morning the Caliph for One Day woke up again as Abu Hassan, and found himself in his old circumstances. In spite of all his calls and shouts, neither the slaves nor the court officers of yesterday hurried to him to ask his wishes. He was sadly perplexed at first at this new change, but he soon got over it, and consoled himself with thinking that at least he had had a beautiful dream. When his mother told him that he had in fact disappeared for a whole day, and when he also learned that the Imam and his fellows had been punished exactly as he had ordered when Caliph, he did not know what to think of the whole adventure at all.

Finally, he leaned to his mother's view, who explained it by saying that some spirit had taken him away and had executed the Imam's punishment. He was thankful indeed to be rid of his rascally neighbors, but he could never give himself an explanation of what had moved the spirit to help him. In the end, however, he put the whole story out of his mind, and became again what he had been before--Queer Abu Hassan, or the Caliph for One Day.

--_Arabian Nights._

THE FIRST POTTER