Part 16

If you could look inside the grasshopper’s body, you would see that he has a gizzard much like that of a chicken. It is made of little bands set with fine teeth. These teeth chew up into a pulp the leaves which the grasshopper has eaten. After he has eaten for a long time, he sits quite still. He looks as if he were thinking. Sometimes, when he sits in this way, he moves his mouth as if chewing. From this action, people used to think that he chewed the cud, as cows and sheep do. But he does not chew the cud. If you watch him well, in these silent times, you will see him gravely licking his long feelers and his lips. He seems to be cleaning them. To do this, he runs out a long, limber tongue, shaped much like yours.

The color in the grasshopper does not seem to be laid on the surface of his coat, as on that of the beetle. It is not put on in plumes and scales, as the butterfly has it. But it is dyed through and through the wings and body. The wing-cases and the rings of the body are not hard, like horn or shell, as in the beetle tribe. They are of a tough skin, and are dyed with the color.

The grasshopper does not change its home. It dies near where it was born. Frost and cold kill it. It does not outlive the winter, as butterflies, bees, and wasps do. Each grasshopper lives alone. He does nothing for his neighbor, and his neighbor does nothing for him.

--JULIA MACNAIR WRIGHT.

JOHN GILPIN

John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he Of famous London town.

John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear, “Though wedded we have been These thrice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

“To-morrow is our wedding-day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair.

“My sister and my sister’s child, Myself and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we.”

He soon replied, “I do admire Of womankind but one; And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done.

“I am a linen-draper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go.”

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, “That’s well said; And for that wine is dear, We will be furnished with our own, Which is both bright and clear.”

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; O’erjoyed was he to find, That though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allowed To drive up to the door, lest all Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, Where they did all get in,-- Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folks so glad! The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse’s side, Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, But soon came down again:--

For saddletree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more.

’Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty, screaming, came downstairs, “The wine is left behind!”

“Good-lack!” quoth he, “yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.”

Now, Mrs. Gilpin (careful soul!) Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved, And keep it safe and sound.

Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well-brushed and neat, He manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o’er the stones, With caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which galled him in his seat.

So, “Fair and softly!” John he cried, But John he cried in vain; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.

So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; Away went hat and wig; He little dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till, loop and button, failing both, At last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung,-- A bottle swinging at each side, As hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, “Well done!” As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin--who but he? His fame soon spread around: “He carries weight! he rides a race! ’Tis for a thousand pound!”

And still, as fast as he drew near, ’Twas wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open threw.

And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were shattered at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse’s flanks to smoke As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle-necks Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington These gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the Wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton, his loving wife From the balcony espied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride.

“Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here’s the house!” They all at once did cry; “The dinner waits, and we are tired.” Said Gilpin,--”So am I!”

But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there! For why?--his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly--which brings me to The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender’s His horse at last stood still.

The calender, amazed to see His neighbor in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate And thus accosted him:

“What news? what news? your tidings tell; Tell me you must and shall; Say, why bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all!”

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke:

“I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road.”

The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig, A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn, Thus showed his ready wit: “My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit.

“But let me scrape the dirt away, That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case.”

Said John, “It is my wedding-day, And all the world would stare, If wife would dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware.”

So turning to his horse, he said-- “I am in haste to dine: ’Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine.”

Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast, For which he paid full dear; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear:

Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And galloped off with all his might, As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin’s hat and wig; He lost them sooner than at first; For why?--they were too big.

Now, mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country--far away, She pulled out half-a-crown;

And thus unto the youth, she said, That drove them to the Bell, “This shall be yours when you bring back My husband, safe and well.”

The youth did ride and soon did meet John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein;

But, not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels,-- The postboy’s horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry:

“Stop, thief! stop, thief!--a highwayman!” Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike-gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down.

Now let us sing, long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!

--WILLIAM COWPER.

A FOREST FIRE

The day was sultry, and towards noon a strong wind sprang up that roared in the pine tops like the dashing of distant billows, but without in the least degree abating the heat. The children were lying listlessly upon the floor, and the girl and I were finishing sunbonnets, when Mary suddenly exclaimed, “Bless us, mistress, what a smoke!”

I ran immediately to the door, but was not able to distinguish ten yards before me. The swamp immediately below us was on fire, and the heavy wind was driving a dense black cloud of smoke directly towards us.

“What can this mean?” I cried. “Who can have set fire to the fallow?” As I ceased speaking, John Thomas stood pale and trembling before me. “John, what is the meaning of this fire?”

“Oh, ma’am, I hope you will forgive me; it was I set fire to it, and I would give all I have in the world if I had not done it.”

“What is the danger?”

“Oh, I’m afraid that we shall all be burnt up,” said John, beginning to whimper. “What shall we do?”

“Why, we must get out of it as fast as we can, and leave the house to its fate.”

“We can’t get out,” said the man, in a low, hollow tone, which seemed the concentration of fear; “I would have got out of it if I could; but just step to the back door, ma’am, and see.”

Behind, before, on every side, we were surrounded by a wall of fire, burning furiously within a hundred yards of us, and cutting off all possibility of retreat; for, could we have found an opening through the burning heaps, we could not have seen our way through the dense canopy of smoke, and, buried as we were in the heart of the forest, no one could discover our situation till we were beyond the reach of help.

I closed the door, and went back to the parlor. Fear was knocking loudly at my heart, for our utter helplessness destroyed all hope of our being able to effect our escape. The girl sat upon the floor by the children, who, unconscious of the peril that hung over them, had both fallen asleep. She was silently weeping; while the boy who had caused the mischief was crying aloud.

A strange calm succeeded my first alarm. I sat down upon the step of the door, and watched the awful scene in silence. The fire was raging in the cedar swamp immediately below the ridge on which the house stood, and it presented a spectacle truly appalling.

From out of the dense folds of a canopy of black smoke--the blackest I ever saw--leaped up red forks of lurid flame as high as the tree-tops, igniting the branches of a group of tall pines that had been left for saw logs. A deep gloom blotted out the heavens from our sight. The air was filled with fiery particles, which floated even to the doorstep--while the crackling and roaring of the flames might have been heard at a great distance.

To reach the shore of the lake, we must pass through the burning swamp, and not a bird could pass over it with unscorched wings. The fierce wind drove the flames at the sides and back of the house up the clearing; and our passage to the road or to the forest, on the right and left, was entirely obstructed by a sea of flames. Our only ark of safety was the house, so long as it remained untouched by the fire.

I turned to young Thomas, and asked him how long he thought that would be. “When the fire clears this little ridge in front, ma’am. The Lord have mercy on us then, or we must all go.”

The heat soon became suffocating. We were parched with thirst, and there was not a drop of water in the house, and none to be procured nearer than the lake. I turned once more to the door, hoping that a passage might have been burnt through to the water. I saw nothing but a dense cloud of fire and smoke--could hear nothing but the crackling and roaring of flames, which were gaining so fast upon us that I felt their scorching breath in my face.

“Ah,” thought I--and it was a most bitter thought--”what will my beloved husband say when he returns and finds that his poor wife and his dear girls have perished in this miserable manner? But God can save us yet.”

The thought had scarcely found a voice in my heart before the wind rose to a hurricane, scattering the flames on all sides into a tempest of burning billows. I buried my head in my apron, for I thought that all was lost, when a most terrific crash of thunder burst over our heads, and, like the breaking of a waterspout, down came the rushing torrent of rain which had been pent up for so many weeks.

In a few minutes the chip yard was all afloat, and the fire effectually checked. The storm which, unnoticed by us, had been gathering all day, and which was the only one of any note we had that summer, continued to rage all night, and before morning had quite subdued the cruel enemy whose approach we had viewed with such dread.

--SUSANNAH MOODIE.

THE HORSES OF GRAVELOTTE

Hot was the battle, and bloody the fight, Cool was the evening and peaceful the night.

From the camp in the wood where the valley lies lone, Three times the signalling trumpet has blown.

Loud and ringing its clear notes fall, Over wood and field they hear the “Recall.”

In troops and by knots, by three and by two, Back they straggle, the valiant few.

Ah! not all are returning back; Full many a man doth the regiment lack.

They were there in their places at reveillé, At night they lie cold, and pallid to see.

And horses whose saddles are empty to-night Are galloping wildly to left and to right.

But the bray of the trumpet that sounds the recall, For the third time summoneth one and all.

See the black stallion is pricking his ear, And neighs at the sound he is wont to hear.

Look, how the brown ranges up to his side, It was ever his place when the trumpet cried.

And next the blood-flecked dapple-gray Limps up to his place in the ranks to-day.

By troops, by knots, by three and by two, Come riderless horses, to signal true.

For horses and riders both know the “Recall,” And the trumpet-blast it is summoning all.

And over three hundred came back that day, With empty saddles from that fierce fray.

Over three hundred! How bloody the fight That emptied so many saddles that night!

Over three hundred! The struggle was sore: One man had fallen out of every four.

Over three hundred! When trumpets blew, The riderless steeds to the flag were true.

When ye talk of Gravelotte’s noble dead, Praise the horses that answered in their stead.

--GEROK.

_From “German Ballads,” translated by Elizabeth Craigmyle, by permission of Walter Scott & Co. Limited._

FOUR-LEAF CLOVERS

I know a place where the sun is like gold, And the cherry-blooms burst with snow; And down underneath is the loveliest nook, Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith, And one is for love, you know, But God put another in for luck-- If you search, you will find where they grow.

But you must have hope, and you must have faith, You must love and be strong, and so, If you work, if you wait, you will find the place Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

--ELLA HIGGINSON.

ALADDIN

One day, in one of the rich provinces of China, an African magician stopped to watch some boys at play. Being a magician, he knew that one of them was called Aladdin, that his father was dead, that he and his mother lived alone, and that he was a careless, idle fellow, just such a boy as would be helpful to him, and one out of whom he could make a tool.

The stranger, going up to Aladdin, touched him on the shoulder, and said, “My lad, are you not the son of Mustapha, the tailor?”

“Yes,” answered the boy, “but my father has been dead for some time.” On hearing this, the magician grieved greatly, and, embracing Aladdin, said, “I am your father’s brother; go tell your mother I shall come and sup with her to-night.” He then gave a handful of money to the boy, who hastened home to relate to his mother all that had happened.

That night the stranger came. At the evening meal he expressed great admiration for Aladdin, saying: “He must be very like what his father was at his age; though it is forty years since I left my native country, my love for my brother has kept his features in my mind, and I recollected them the moment I saw the boy.”

When he asked Aladdin what trade he had chosen, the lad hung his head in shame at not being able to give an answer to that question. His mother replied that he was a worthless fellow, who cared only to loiter in the streets. The magician reproved him for his idleness, and offered to make a merchant of him, if he would but apply himself to business. This Aladdin promised to do. His pretended uncle provided him with fine clothing, and with many favors, won the confidence of the boy and his mother.

One morning the magician set out with Aladdin to show him something very wonderful. At length they came to a valley which separated two mountains. Aladdin was directed to gather dry sticks and kindle a fire. When this was done, the magician, pronouncing certain magical words, cast a perfume into the blaze. Immediately a great smoke arose, the earth trembled and opened, showing a large, flat stone. Then he said to the frightened boy, “There is hidden under that stone an immense treasure, which you may possess if you will carefully follow my instructions.” Aladdin promised exact obedience. The magician then embraced him, and putting a ring which would protect him from danger upon his finger, bade him pronounce the names of his father and his grandfather and raise the stone. Aladdin obeyed, and discovered a hole several feet deep, and steps to descend lower.

“Observe,” said the magician, “what I am about to tell you. Not only the possession of the treasure, but your life itself depends on your careful attention. I have opened the cave, but am forbidden to enter it. That honor is for you alone. Go down boldly, then. At the bottom of the steps you will find three great halls, but touch nothing in them. At the end of the halls you will come to a garden; at the farther end of it you will find a lamp, burning in a niche. Take that lamp down, throw away the wick, pour out the liquid, and put the lamp into your bosom to bring to me.”

Aladdin secured the treasure and stopped to admire the trees, which were loaded with fruits of many colors. He knew nothing of the value of these fruits, but was so pleased with their beauty that he filled his pockets. Then he returned to the entrance and called to his uncle to assist him in getting out.

Through his magic, the magician had learned that if he could possess a lamp hidden somewhere underground, it would make him more powerful than any prince in the world, and he had resolved to have some friendless boy bring him the wonderful talisman and then shut him up in the cave. When Aladdin called for help, the magician refused to assist him until he should give him the lamp, but this the boy would not do until he was out of the cave. The dispute lasted a long time, when the magician became so angry that he pronounced two magical words, which replaced the stone and closed the earth. By this means he lost all hope of obtaining the lamp; it was forever out of his power to open the cave again. He set off immediately for his own country.

In vain did the terrified boy call upon his uncle to let him out. He was in great despair. In this state he continued for two days, but on the third day, in distress, he happened to clasp his hands together, and in doing so rubbed the ring which the magician had put upon his finger, and in his haste had forgotten to take away. Immediately an enormous genie rose out of the earth, and said, “What wouldst thou? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave whilst thou wearest that ring, I and the other slaves of the ring.” Aladdin answered, “I charge thee, by the ring, if thou art able, to release me from this place.” He had no sooner spoken than the earth opened and the genie lifted him up to the surface, and immediately disappeared.

Aladdin hastened home and related all to his mother, who was overjoyed to see him, but distressed that she had no money with which to buy food for him. They agreed to sell the lamp he had brought home, but to clean it first, thinking if it were clean, it would bring a greater price. As the mother began to rub it with sand and water, a genie of gigantic size stood before her and said, “What wouldst thou? I am ready to obey thee as thy slave, the slave of all those who hold that lamp in their hands.”

The poor woman, overcome with fear, let the lamp fall, but Aladdin caught it, and said, “I am hungry; bring me something to eat at once.” The genie disappeared and returned with a large silver basin, containing twelve covered plates of the same metal, all full of the choicest dainties. When the provisions were all gone, Aladdin sold the plates one by one for the support of himself and his mother.

One day Aladdin saw the beautiful daughter of the sultan. He was so impressed with her beauty, that he requested his mother to go to the sultan and to ask for him the hand of the princess in marriage. The poor woman objected, saying, “How can I go to the sultan with such a message? What extravagant madness! Besides, no one approaches the sovereign to ask a favor without a gift. What have you to offer the sultan, even for his smallest favor, much less for the highest he can bestow?”

“I own,” replied Aladdin, “my wishes are extravagant, but you should not think I can send no gift to the sultan. I am able to furnish you with one I am sure he will accept.”