Part 19

The lady was the daughter of the king of Bengal. Many of her attendants were by this time awakened. She told Firouz, therefore, that she should be glad to hear the particulars of his adventure in the morning, but for the present besought him to withdraw. At the same time she ordered her attendants to conduct him to a chamber, and supply him with such refreshments as he wanted.

The prince attended her the next day and related to her all the particulars of the arrival of the Indian with his horse, of his insolent demand, and its consequences. He concluded his account of his journey by observing that however much he had been enraged at the Indian, he now began to consider him his benefactor; "since," added he, "he has been the cause of my being known to a lady whose chains I shall be proud to wear as long as I live."

The princess received this compliment in such a manner as showed it was very acceptable to her. She invited the prince to repose a few days in her palace to recover himself from the fatigue and alarm he had undergone. He accepted this invitation; and being much together, they fell more and more in love with each other. And, at last, when filial duty obliged Firouz to think of returning to Persia, the fond princess, fearing she should see him no more, dropped a hint that she should not be afraid to trust herself with him on the enchanted horse; and the prince, equally enamored, failed not to confirm her in this rash adventure.

Everything being agreed on between the lovers, they repaired, one morning at daybreak, to the roof where the horse still remained; and Firouz assisted the princess to mount him. He then placed himself before her, and turning the peg, they were out of sight before any of the attendants in the palace were stirring; and in two hours the prince discovered the capital of Persia.

He would not alight at the king's palace, but directed his course to a small cottage in a wood, a little distance from town, that he might inform his father who the lady was, and secure her a reception suitable to her dignity. When they alighted, he led her into a handsome apartment, and ordered the keeper of the house to show her all imaginable respect. Then he hastened to the palace, where the king received him with unspeakable joy. Firouz related to his father all that had befallen him, and the king was so delighted with his son's safe arrival, that he readily complied with his desire that the wedding ceremonies between him and the princess should be immediately celebrated.

While the necessary preparations were being made, the king ordered the Indian, who was to have been executed the next day, to be released from prison, and brought before him. "My son's safe arrival," said the king to him, "hath preserved thy life. Take thy horse, and begone from my dominions; where, if thou art ever seen again, I will not fail to put thee to death." The Indian being then freed from his chains, and set at liberty, withdrew in silence.

But he meditated a severe revenge. He had learned from those who fetched him out of prison, that Firouz had brought home with him a beautiful princess, to whom he was about to be married. He was told also that she was at the house in the wood, where he was directed to go and take away his horse. While Firouz was preparing a great retinue to conduct the princess in state to the palace, the Indian hastened to the house in the wood, and told the keeper he was sent by the prince to conduct her, on the horse, to the capital; and that the whole court and people were waiting with impatience for the wonderful sight.

The keeper knew that the Indian had been imprisoned on account of the prince's absence; and, seeing him now at liberty, he believed all he said. He presented the traitor to the princess, who, not doubting but he came from Firouz, readily agreed to go with him. The Indian, overjoyed at his success, mounted his horse, took the princess behind him, and turning the peg, the horse immediately ascended into the air. The king and his whole court were on the road to the house in the wood, to conduct the princess of Bengal from thence to the palace; when the Indian, to brave them, and revenge the severe treatment he had received, passed several times over their heads with his prize. The rage and grief of the king were extreme. He loaded the villain with a thousand execrations, in which he was joined by the courtiers and people. The Indian, having expressed his contempt for them, and his triumph over the king and his son, was presently out of sight.

But who can describe the horror and despair of Firouz, when he saw his beloved princess torn from him by a vile Indian he so thoroughly detested, and found himself unable to afford her the least assistance. At first he abandoned himself to despair; but, recollecting that such a conduct would neither recover the princess nor punish the captor, he restrained his affliction, and began to consider how he could best effect these desirable purposes. He put on the habit of a dervish, and left the palace the same evening, uncertain which way to go, but determined not to return till he had found his princess again.

In the meantime, the Indian having pursued his journey for several hours, alighted in a wood, near the capital of Cashmere. As he was hungry himself, and doubted not but the princess was so too, he left her by the side of a brook and flew away on the horse to the city to procure provisions. The princess made the best use in her power of his absence; and though faint for want of food, she traveled on, and had got a considerable distance from the place where he left her, when she had the mortification to see him return and alight close by her; for the Indian had wished to be set down wherever the princess was, and the horse always obeyed the desire of the rider.

The Indian produced some wine and provisions, and ate heartily, urging her to follow his example, which she thought it best to do. When they had done, he drew near and began to pay his addresses to the princess, which she repulsed with indignation. Her outcries drew a company of horsemen to her assistance.

They proved to be the sultan of Cashmere and his attendants, returning from a day's hunting. When the sultan asked of the Indian why he annoyed the lady, he boldly answered that she was his wife; but the princess, though she knew not the quality of the sultan, besought his protection, and declared that by the basest deceit only she had been thrown into the power of such a reptile.

The sultan of Cashmere was very chivalrous. The disorder and distress of the princess added to her beauty and interested the monarch. Judging that, whether the Indian was the husband of the lady or not, he would be best out of the way, he pretended to be much enraged against him, and ordered his head to be stuck off immediately. He then conducted the princess to his palace, and directed his attendants to bring the horse after them, though he knew nothing of the use of it.

The princess of Bengal rejoiced at her deliverance. She entertained hopes that the sultan of Cashmere would generously restore her to the prince of Persia; but she was much deceived; for as soon as the sultan learned that she was daughter to the king of Bengal, he determined to marry her, and that no untoward circumstances might happen to prevent it, he gave orders for the necessary preparations to be completed by the next day.

In the morning the princess was awakened early by the sounding of trumpets, the beating of drums, and other noisy tokens of public joy, which echoed through the palace and city. On her asking the cause of this rejoicing, she was told it was to celebrate her marriage with their sultan, which was to take place presently.

The princess' attachment to Firouz would have made any other man disagreeable to her. But this conduct of the sultan of Cashmere in proclaiming their nuptials, without even having asked her consent, at once enraged and terrified her. She was entirely in his power; and the disrespect he had paid her convinced her that she had everything to fear from his violence, if she refused to comply with his wishes.

Thus critically situated, she had recourse to art. She arose and dressed herself fancifully, and in her whole behavior appeared to her women to be unsettled in her intellect. The sultan was soon told of his misfortune, and on his approach she put on the appearance of frenzy, and endeavored to fly at him; and this fury she ever after affected whenever he came in her sight. The sultan was much disturbed at this unfortunate event, as he thought it, and offered large rewards to any physician who could cure her, but the princess would not suffer any one to come near her, so that all hope of her recovery began to be despaired of.

During this interval, Firouz, disguised as a dervish, had traveled through many provinces, full of grief, and uncertain which way to direct his course in search of his beloved princess. At last, passing through a town in India, he heard an account that a princess of Bengal had run mad on the day of the celebration of her nuptials with the sultan of Cashmere. Slender as was the hope that such a report gave him, he resolved to travel to the capital of that kingdom; where, when he arrived, he had the happiness to find he had not journeyed in vain. He learned all the particulars of her having been delivered from the Indian by their sultan, and that the very next day she was seized with madness.

Firouz saw at once the reason of the princess' conduct, and was delighted with this tender proof of her love and constancy to him. All the difficulty which remained was to obtain an opportunity of speaking to her. To gain this, he put on the clothes of a physician, and, presenting himself to the sultan, undertook to cure the princess.

His services being accepted, he desired first to see her, without being seen by her. For this purpose he was conveyed into a closet, whence he saw her unobserved. She was carelessly singing a song, in which she deplored the unhappy fate which had forever deprived her of the object she loved so tenderly. When he quitted the closet, he told the sultan she was not incurable, but that it was necessary for him to speak with her alone; and that notwithstanding her violent fits at the sight of physicians, he knew how to make her attend to him.

As the princess had been long thought incurable, the sultan made no difficulty of complying with the supposed physician's request. As soon as he entered her apartment, she began to rave at him in her usual furious manner, on which he went up close to her, and said, in a low voice, "I am the prince of Persia."

The princess ceased to rave, and the attendants withdrew, rejoiced at this proof of the physician's abilities. After mutual congratulations, Firouz acquainted her with the plan he had formed for her deliverance. He then returned to the sultan, who demanded eagerly what hopes he now entertained. The pretended physician shook his head, and said, "All depends upon a mere chance; the princess, a few hours before she was taken ill, had touched something that was enchanted. Unless I can obtain that something, whatever it may be, I cannot cure her."

The sultan of Cashmere presently recollected the horse, which was still preserved in his treasury. He showed it to the imaginary physician, who, on seeing it, very gravely said, "I congratulate your majesty on the certainty of my success. Let this horse be brought out into the great square before the palace, and let the princess attend; I will promise that in a few minutes she shall be perfectly cured."

Accordingly, the following morning the horse was placed in the middle of the square, and the supposed physician drew a large circle, and placed around it chafing dishes, with a little fire in each. The sultan, full of expectation, with all his nobles and ministers of state, attended. The princess was brought out veiled, conducted within the circle, and the physician placed her on the enchanted horse. He then went round to each chafing dish, and threw in a certain drug, which presently raised such a cloud of smoke that neither the physician, the princess, nor the horse could be seen through it. At that instant the prince of Persia mounted the horse; and, turning the peg, while the horse ascended into the air, he distinctly pronounced these words: "Sultan of Cashmere, when thou wouldst marry princesses who implore thy protection, learn first to obtain their consent."

The same day the prince of Persia and his beloved princess arrived safely at his father's court, when their nuptials were immediately celebrated with the greatest splendor.

--_Arabian Nights._

THINKING

Arrange your paper with your name on the first line, at the right, and your grade below it on the second line. Put nothing on the next line. Here are ten problems to be answered, not with figures, but with the word, _yes_ or _no_. No other answer will be satisfactory. Put the answer to the first problem on the fourth line, and in the margin of your paper mark it number 1. Use a new line for each new answer guess at it, and pass on to the next problem.

1. One day last June, I picked sixty-five pounds of cherries. My mother wanted about thirty pounds. Did I have enough to sell Mrs. Clark thirty pounds also?

2. Sugar-cane grows in a moist tropical region. If you were a farmer in Kansas, would you plant most of your farm with sugar-cane?

3. All the boys and girls of the Sixth Grade belong to the School Library. Marie is in the Sixth Grade. Is she a member of the Library?

4. John is older than Robert. I am younger than John. Do you know that Robert is older than I am?

5. I have been saving since last vacation in order to buy a bicycle. It will cost me $19.50, but I have already saved more than half of this. If my father gives me ten dollars for my birthday shall I be able to get the bicycle?

6. All the boys in the Sixth Grade have enlisted in the United States School Garden Army. Robert is a member of the United States School Garden Army. Does that prove that he is a member of the Sixth Grade?

7. Hawaii has a warm moist climate. From what you read in the second problem, would you expect to find sugar-cane growing there?

8. John is three years younger than Robert. I am one year older than John. Is Robert the oldest?

WHAT IS A BOY SCOUT?

Perhaps you are a Boy Scout already, though not a very big one. Perhaps you intend to be one some day. In this description of the best kind of Scout, find reasons why you would like to be one.

A Scout enjoys a hike through the woods more than he does a walk in the city streets. He can tell north or south or east or west by the "signs." He can tie a knot that will hold; he can climb a tree which seems impossible to others; he can swim a river; he can pitch a tent; he can mend a tear in his trousers; he can tell you which fruits and seeds are poisonous and which are not; he can sight nut-bearing trees from a distance. If he lives near the ocean or a lake he can reef a sail or take his trick at the wheel, and, if near any body of water at all he can pull an oar or use paddles and sculls; in the woods he knows the names of birds and animals; in the water he tells you the different varieties of fish.

A Scout walks through the woods with silent tread. No dry twigs snap under his feet, and no loose stones turn over and throw him off his balance. His eyes are keen and he sees many things that others do not see. He sees tracks and signs which reveal to him the nature and habits of the creatures that made them. He knows how to stalk birds and animals and how to study them in their natural haunts. He sees much, but is little seen.

A Scout, like an old frontiersman, does not shout his wisdom from the housetops. He possesses the quiet power that comes from knowledge. He speaks softly and answers questions modestly. He knows a braggart but he does not challenge him, allowing the boaster to expose his ignorance by his own loose-wagging tongue.

A Scout can kindle a fire in the forest on the wettest day, and he seldom uses more than one match. When no matches can be had, he can still have a fire, for he knows the secret of the rubbing sticks used by the Indians, and he knows how to start a blaze with only his knife blade and a piece of flint. He knows, also, the danger of forest fires; so he kindles a blaze that will not spread. The fire once started, what a meal he can prepare out there in the open! Just watch him and compare his appetite with that of a boy who lounges at a lunch counter in a crowded city. He knows the unwritten rules of the campfire, and he contributes his share to the pleasures of the council. He also knows when to sit silent before the ruddy embers and give his mind free play.

A Scout holds his honor to be his most precious possession, and he would rather die than have it stained. He knows what is his duty, and all obligations imposed by duty he fulfills of his own free will. His sense of honor is his only task-master, and his honor he guards as jealously as did the knights of old. In this manner a Scout wins the confidence and respect of all people.

A Scout practices self-control, for he knows that men who master problems in the world must first master themselves. He keeps a close guard on his tongue, for he knows that loud speech is often a cloak to ignorance, that swearing is a sign of weakness, and that untruthfulness shatters the confidence of others. He keeps a close guard on his appetite and eats moderately of food which will make him strong; he never uses alcoholic liquors because he does not wish to poison his body; he desires a clear, active brain, so he avoids tobacco.

A Scout never flinches in the face of danger; for he knows that at such a time every faculty must be alert to preserve his safety and that of others. He knows what to do in case of fire, or panic, or shipwreck; he trains his mind to direct and his body to act. In all emergencies he sets an example of resourcefulness, coolness and courage, and considers the safety of others before that of himself. He is especially considerate of the helpless and weak.

A Scout can make himself known to a brother Scout wherever he may be by a method which only Scouts can know. He has brothers in every city in the land and in every country in the world. Wherever he goes he can give his signs and be assured of a friendly welcome. He can talk with a brother Scout without making a sound or he can make known his message by imitating the click of a telegraph key.

--_From "The Boy Scouts' Year Book", Courtesy of D. Appleton and Company._

QUESTIONS

1. Why would you like a Boy Scout as a companion if you were lost in the woods?

2. What is meant by, "His sense of honor is his only task-master"?

3. Why would you trust a Boy Scout who lived up to the teachings of the Boy Scouts?

THE SCOUT AND THE KNIGHT

Some of the pledges which the knights of King Arthur's Round Table had to take were not unlike the code of the Boy Scouts. Find the points of likeness in these lines from Tennyson's version of the vows:

"To honor his own word as if his God's; To ride abroad redressing human wrongs; To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it."

THE FIRE SPIRIT

Here is a splendid story that makes the discovery of fire real to us because it shows us how a man might have felt.

This is a story to read and enjoy. No questions will be asked about it, but you may ask your teacher to explain anything you do not understand. Perhaps you would like to tell the story to your parents or friends or to some class below yours in the school.

Before the years were counted or the circuit of the seasons reckoned, man lived where it was always summer, and summer heat ruled the Northland, now ruled by winter cold. As the scepter of the Frost King reached farther and farther south, men slowly and reluctantly retreated from the old homes. But some lingered through the fireless winters for the love of the familiar places and the beauty of the northern spring and summer.

Among those who lingered was Ang, the mighty hunter. His home was in a cave at the edge of the great forest. It faced the south so that it could catch all the scant rays of the winter's sun. The mouth of the cave was partly closed by a screen of fir boughs, while a bark slab, torn from a big tree, formed a rude door. Inside the cave were bunks piled high with dry moss and leaves, with the skins of animals which Ang had slain thrown over them.

It was not yet midwinter, but it was cold, bitter cold. As Ang sat in front of his cave, chipping knife blades and arrow points from flint, he moved from time to time to keep in the feeble light of the sun, but it seemed to have little warmth, and he shivered and grumbled to himself: "Every year the cold grows stronger. The old men tell of a time when it came late and went soon, but that must have been long ago. Ugh! but it is cold! It gets under my bearskin; it nips my ears and numbs my hands. I wish I had taken the long journey to the Southland, but it was far for the woman and the child, and I hoped that the Ice Giant would grow old and lose his strength--and I was born here; my father and my father's father hunted in these woods and fished in this river, and men, like trees, take root."

The sun sank into a cold gray cloud in the west. The bite of the wind grew sharper. The hoarse cough of a child echoed from the cave behind him, and the dull crooning song of the mother, as she tried to warm the sick child at her breast, could be heard as the wind was lulled for a moment.

Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang would not enter the cave. He could not bear to hear the troubled breathing of the child or see the face of the mother. He dreaded the coming of the grim White Spirit for this, his last child. Sometimes he fancied he could hear him rushing through the woods above the cliff, and feel the chill of his breath on his face. Had he no other food but children, this dread hunter?

Colder and more cold it grew, but Ang still lingered. He piled dry moss about his feet and tried to bring warmth to his numb hands by hammering off flakes of flint which he would later shape into rough weapons and tools. He struck two flints together in a kind of dumb fury. It was a glancing blow, and one of the flints dropped into the dry moss at his feet with a flicker of sparks. A coil of gray smoke crept out of the moss like a serpent coming out of his hole. A bright spot at its heart grew brighter and brighter, and then red flames lapped hungrily.

Ang leaped to his feet in astonishment. At the smiting of the flint the Fire Spirit had been born. Its breath was the breath of summer. He stretched out his hands over the flames, and the cold loosened its grip. He touched the flame, and it stung him like an angry bee. Clearly the Spirit must not be handled. Awe and wonder filled the mind of Ang. He fell on his knees and prayed to the Fire Spirit: "Spirit of light and heat, Thou hast come in our hour of need--I know not whence. Stay and keep away the terrible cold Spirit with thy red arrows. Stay! I will deny thee nothing. If Thou art hungry, I will feed thee."

As Ang watched the fire, it hungrily ate up the dry moss, and lapped the dry sticks. He brought more and fed them to the reaching flames. The northern darkness had shut in the rest of the world, light lingered at the door of the cave of Ang, and the warm breath of the fire brought back the heat of summer in the midst of winter. Joy filled the heart of Ang, and he called to the mother and the child: "Oma, Om, come! The Great One has heard. Come, come, come quickly."